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expensiveglasses · 4 years ago

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Charming Finale

Summary: Prince Jungkook was as infuriating as he was beautiful. In line to one day be king, he requested your guidance in the ways of his people. In turn he will make you laugh, give your family fine gifts, and become an invaluable friend. Unfortunately, he will also make you fall in love with him. But the most unfortunate thing of all was his betrothal…to Snow White

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Fantasy, Angst, Snow white/au

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 7659

Warnings: The first few pages of this chapter deal with the fall out of OC’s decision, so there’s confusion, hurt, anger, etc. This story ends happily, but the first part of the chapter is a little more emotionally painful so be aware. . .

It’s not true what they say about death. The black doesn’t remain. You were surrounded by swirling shades of violet, fuchsia, and azure. Lights bursting behind the shade of your quickly cooling eyelids. Your limbs were stiff but your vision was alive and swelling. There was a consciousness you’d never known death could hold, that allowed thoughts and dreams to roam openly.

Visions of yellow daisies erupting left you breathless when suddenly there was an explosion of color and you were gasping for air, eyes shooting open and blinking in the confusion of the aftermath.

Fingers tingling and breast heaving, your vision finally came into focus and your gaze shifted to the figure leaning over you. “Jungkook?” You breathed.

Jungkook’s eyes were red, cheeks swollen with tears and you watched in surprise as he lurched forward, burying his face in your chest and crying. “I thought I’d lost you!” He wailed. “How could you do something so stupid? I need you, you’re everything to me!”

Your breathing was shallow, evening out with the life that was filling your chest. “What about Snow?”

“I could not wake her. Only true loves kiss can break the spell.”

“How did I wake up?” You asked softly.

“I kissed you.” Jungkook murmured, his tears slowing with his exhale as he lifted himself from you.

You took a deep breath as you tried to allow your thoughts to settle. “You…kissed…me?”

“I had to try.” He whispered, “I love you.”

You watched his face carefully as you took deep breaths. Your body felt heavy from death, like you’d slept too deeply and woken suddenly.

“Help me sit up?” You asked softly and Jungkook complied, helping you to sit up against the trunk of a tree.

You were still in the forest and morning light was seeping through the openings of the trees. “How long have I been…asleep?” You asked delicately. The dwarfs stood behind Jungkook’s kneeling figure, faces the picture of relief.

Jungkook frowned, eyes dimming. “You were missing 3 days. The dwarf’s found you this morning and I came as soon as I could. I thought I’d lost you.” He repeated weakly.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled. “I thought I would never see you again and couldn’t bear the thought of it. It was a very selfish thing to do, I admit.”

“Yes, it was.” Jungkook scolded and you stared in surprise. “Death is a very permanent solution to such a temporary problem. You can’t just have a tantrum when things don’t go your way. Even if I had been able to wake Snow you would have recovered from the disappointment. We all recover and move on with our lives, that’s the way of things.”

“I thought you said you loved me, why are you yelling at me?” You muttered into your lap.

“I do love you,” Jungkook sighed, “but I’m mad at you.”

You nodded, clasping your hands together. “I understand.” Silence descended and you blinked in thought. “What will happen to Snow? Will she remain asleep forever?”

Jungkook paused, blinking down at you before pushing his hair from his brow. “I find in my sorrow I neglected to tell you everything. Snow is alive and well.”

Your eyes jumped up to his, eyebrows knitting together. “But you said you couldn’t wake her.”

“I couldn’t.” Jungkook affirmed, “But it turns out the huntsman could.”

“Oh.” You breathed.

You supposed you shouldn’t have been so surprised; all the signs were there. You had just been so consumed with Jungkook and his destiny that you hadn’t paid much attention to what could have been happening between Snow and Diterich.

“Perhaps we could make our way inside.” Doc smiled and you glanced over Jungkook’s shoulder to return the gesture. “We are preparing supper and have warm blankets. It will take some time to recover from the effects of the poison.”

Jungkook stood suddenly, sliding his arms under your legs and around your waist to hoist you into his arms. “Please, lead the way.” . . The fire was warm and full as Jungkook placed you in the large chair in front of it, taking the proffered blanket from one of the dwarfs and spreading it over your body. You felt a bit too warm as you sat there, watching everyone prepare the food but Doc insisted you stay exactly as you were so that the heat could help you sweat out the remnants of the poison; much like a fever.

“What now?” You asked softly, holding onto Jungkook’s hand while he sat on the floor beside you. “Your father will be extremely unhappy about this turn of events.”

“I imagine so.” Jungkook mused, staring into the flames. Silence engulfed the two of you and you chewed on the inside of your bottom lip in thought. Even now, with Jungkook at your side and Snow awake from another’s kiss, there were no guarantees Jungkook’s father wouldn’t still insist on them marrying.

They were betrothed, after all.

“I suppose it’s unreasonable to think you could be with a commoner.” You murmured, bottom lip trembling despite yourself. “I understand if you have to go.”

Jungkook turned to look at you sharply. “I have no intention of leaving you. I thought I lost you twice, I will not lose you again.”

“But your father!” You insisted, sniffing and rubbing a tear from the corner of your eye.

“I don’t care.” Jungkook said, lifting onto his knees and sitting in front of you. “You own my heart; totally and completely. I can’t continue without you and I refuse to do so. I’ve tried to do my duty my entire life and now I want to do something for me.”

“How selfish of you.” You smiled softly, a gesture that he returned, lifting your hand to his lips and leaving a soft kiss.

“We’re all entitled to a little selfishness sometimes.”

“Well come now,” Happy beamed, patting his belly cheerfully, “the supper is ready and we should have full stomachs before such heavy talk.”

“Stay put and we’ll bring some over to you.” Doc hummed, ladling some of the stew into a wooden bowl and handing it to Grumpy to bring to you.

“Thank you.” You murmured, taking the bowl from him and he offered you one of his rare smiles, patting the top of your hand.

“You really scared us, girl.”

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, “I really am. I didn’t realize how many people my decision would impact.”

“You have many people that love you, dear.” Doc smiled, bringing a bowl to Jungkook and sitting down across from you with his own. “Sometimes we don’t see what’s right in front of us, but it doesn’t mean it’s not there. We’re glad you’re safe.”

“I would miss you.” Bashful blushed and Dopey nodded his head vigorously.

“I would miss you too.” You smiled.

“Well, tuck in. Sleepy, could you bring the bread?” Doc called. The other dwarfs came with their own bowls and a loaf of bread that everyone divided between them.

Conversation was light and jolly as they talked of music and celebrations. The bread was warm and buttered, melting on your tongue and the stew was hearty and filling. By the time you’d finished your food you felt full and as though you’d sweat a river.

Jungkook looked at you, chuckling. “You’ll need to wash yourself.”

“How preposterous. Commenting on my state in such a way.” You tutted, attempting to push the blanket from your lap before Doc pushed it back up, insisting you wait.

“We’ll prepare a bath for you. We’ve sent for your mother; she will help to bathe you.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary!” You insisted, face warming.

“My dear child,” he said softly, holding your hand in his own and speaking gently, “you’ve been dead for 3 days. You’ll need the help. Would you prefer one of us help you bathe?” He chuckled.

Jungkook looked positively mortified, “what an outrageous jest!” He said, gesticulating wildly, “that would be completely improper.”

“I see your sense of humor remains stiff and serious.” Grumpy commented offhandedly, shuffling from the room.

The dwarfs settled back into their conversations; comfortable by the warmth of the fire. Shame filled your chest as you stared down at the prince, still sat on the floor beside you, fingers locked around yours. His face was puffy and red from crying and your heart thumped uncomfortably at the thought that you’d caused him so much pain.

“Jungkook.” You murmured and he looked up at you, eyes wide in inquiry. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking…I just assumed that you’d be able to wake her and I would be forgotten…I couldn’t…I just couldn’t handle it. I’m so sorry.”

Jungkook hurried to his knees, rubbing the tears from your cheeks with his thumb as he soothed you with gentle words. “I know. I would have missed you terribly. I did miss you terribly. I was nearly out of my mind with grief when we found you.”

“I’m so sorry.” You said once again, watching his dark eyes flicker across your face; surveying him so close you could hardly believe you were here and now. “And…I love you too.”

Your heart jumped nervously at the proclamation. Even though he’d been the first to say it, it was terrifying to say out loud. The nature of your relationship was altogether forbidden and yet you craved him, yearned for him, loved him.

Anyone but him would never be enough.

Tears sprung from your eyes once more; unbidden and heavy in their tracks across your cheeks.

“I know.” He whispered, nodding and stroking your cheeks once more. “It’s such a tragedy that our first kiss was while you were sleeping, don’t you think?”

You watched as he smiled, eyes crinkling at the sides. His tone of voice was playful and you pouted at him. “Don’t tease me if you mean nothing by it.” You chastised.

He grinned, glancing around the room quickly before leaning forward to press his lips against yours. “Better?”

“That was too quick.” You breathed, reaching forward and pulling him back to you by the nape of the neck. He was warm against you, hands resting on the arms of the chair to your side as he tilted his head to fit comfortably against your mouth.

“Your mother has arrived.” Doc called from by the window and you pulled away from the prince quickly, glancing towards the door.

Jungkook stood, moving closer to the fireplace as your mother entered, eyes sunken and dark. The guilt floored you once again as you took in her expression; the fear, confusion, anger. She glanced around the room, eyes darting towards the prince.

“Your majesty.” She croaked, head bowing slightly before she moved towards you.

Your chest seized as she came to sit in front of you, eyes filling with tears and you couldn’t have felt smaller. “You stupid girl,” she whispered, hands shakily moving to grab yours resting on your lap. Her tears flowed freely now. “Are we nothing to you? Your father and I? Are we not deserving of your thoughts?”

“I’m so sorry.” You whispered, bottom lip trembling.

Her head fell into your lap, shoulders shaking with her cries and you felt the flames of tears licking at your throat. You didn’t feel like you deserved to cry now; not when you’d caused so much pain. It hadn’t even crossed your mind how many people cared. You felt foolish for ever having doubted.

Your mother raised her head, standing and wiping at her cheeks. “Will someone be kind enough to help me bring her to the bath?”

The prince immediately stepped forward. “I would be honored.” He said softly.

They both helped you to move slowly to the bathing room, your arms around their shoulders and you felt like your chest might burst open from shame.

Jungkook helped you to sit on the stool by the bath before excusing himself, closing the door behind himself. Your mother worked to undo the bindings of your dress, sliding in from your form and you shivered. She’d not bathed you since you were a child and your mortification continued to mount.

“So, it’s the prince then?” She said as she unfolded a cloth and sat it on the edge of the tub before helping you to stand and step into the water. It was warm and smelled sweet like lavender. Your bones sunk heavily into the wooden basin. “He’s the one that you’ve been going to see?”

You glanced up at her, chewing your bottom lip before nodding and staring down into the water. Your mother sighed. “I suspected as much.”

“You suspected?” You asked in surprise.

“I’m not daft child.” She remarked and your fingers twisted together under the water. She bent into a squat, dipping the cloth into the water with you and using it to gently scrub your skin. “I saw the way he looked at you that day he came back. Why do you think I insisted you wear your best dress to the castle?”

“Surely you could not have foreseen this.” You said softly.

“Certainly not.” She agreed, “Though I did hope you could raise your fortune higher than we ever could.”

“Mother,” you sighed, using your fingers to trickle water across your arms, “to marry a prince…it’s a feat I’m afraid my station in life makes me incapable of.”

“Perhaps.” She agreed, scrubbing down your back. “But his devotion is clear, my child. If I am not mistaken, I believe he will fight for you.”

She moved to the front, scrubbing carefully and you watched her work, eyes blurry with tears. “I’m so sorry mother. I was so unfair to you and father.” She looked up at you, pausing her work as you cried, “You’ve given everything for me; given me a good life and I repaid you with so much sorrow. I will spend my whole life apologizing.”

Your mother tutted, lifting your chin with her finger and you looked at her blurry face. “The best apology I could get is your happiness. My dear, a mother always forgives and loves her child. Promise me you’ll fight for your future.”

“I promise.” . .

“Would you like stew?” Happy asked as your mother helped you to settle back in the chair by the fire.

“I am a mite hungry.” She smiled, accepting the bowl from his hands and a hunk of bread.

“What will happen with Snow now?” Sneezy asked, standing beside the hearth and prodding into the fire with a poker. “The queen is dead; Snow will have to ascend to the throne.”

You glanced sharply up and Jungkook who reached out to squeeze your shoulder. “All will be well, I’m sure. I will take care of things.”

“We need to return home as soon as I’m finished.” Your mother said from the chair by the fire. “Your father is expecting us. He wants to see you home.”

“Would you like my help escorting you?” The prince asked. “It’s a bit of a walk in her state.”

Your mother bowed her head as thanks. “I will accept the help as far as the fields. Any closer and my husband will see. I’ve told him that you were injured, Y/N, but he does not know the true nature of what happened. It will remain this way. As soon as we leave this cottage, we will never speak of it again. It’s for the best.”

You nodded quietly, quickly thinking of a plausible injury while she finished her food. When everything was ready, both Jungkook and your mother hiked your arms around their shoulders once more, helping you from the cottage and carefully into the forest.

The walk was quiet, despite the racing thoughts of your party, and you moved slowly so as not to weaken yourself further. When the three of you had made it to the fields, you paused and Jungkook stepped away from beside you.

“Thank you for your help, your majesty.” Your mother said softly, bowing her head once more.

Jungkook himself bowed, to the surprise of your mother and you smiled. Ever the gentleman. “The pleasure was mine, ma’am. Y/N…” he paused, glancing at your mother before continuing. “I will speak with my father tonight. . .

~Jungkook’s P.O.V~

The king was in the study when the prince returned that evening. He sat in a comfortable chair by a roaring fire, book in one hand and glass of red wine in the other. He nodded as his son entered, closing his book and waving him over into the seat in front of him.

“I’m glad you’re here.” He said, setting the book and his glass of wine down on the small table beside him. He waited for Jungkook to seat himself. “I was wanting to speak to you about your betrothal.”

The prince nodded, hands ringing together in front of him. “I was hoping to speak with you as well.” He said, leaning forward onto his knees. “About Margit.”

“Yes, very sad affair this. The death of a monarch so suddenly; it’s quite a tragedy.” The king said; morose.

“The queen was trying to kill, Margit.” Jungkook said lowly.

The king looked over at him, gaze calculating. “There’s no need to be so moral with me, son. I know the details. We’re not here to talk about the evil queen, but of your betrothed. She’ll need to be married before she can ascend to the throne.”

“Yes,” Jungkook nodded, straightening slightly, “I wish to speak to you about that as well.”

“Good, then we are in agreement. The marriage should take place quickly. We will of course have to take time to prepare and send invitations. We have many people who will need to come from far so the earliest we can progress would be a fortnight.” The king blathered and Jungkook cleared his throat to gain his father’s attention.

“If I could father, I would like to say something.” He took a deep breath at his father’s wave of approval. “You know I respect you and that I love this kingdom. I love this kingdom so much in fact, that I’ve done a lot of thinking and I wish to break the betrothal with Margit.”

“You wish to what?” The king spluttered, back ramrod straight in his chair. “You wish to break the betrothal?!”

“Yes, father.” Jungkook continued. “Margit is a wonderful woman and she will make a very good queen…of her own kingdom. We have discussed it and neither of us wishes to marry the other. We are not in love with one another.”

“What does love have to do with anything?” The king roared, eyes bulging from their sockets. “This is a political alliance of great magnitude! This is unacceptable, you will do your duty to your kingdom and your king!”

Jungkook straightened completely, staring deep into the angry eyes of his father. He looked mad with fury. “Why is marrying someone for political gain my duty, father? Do you not think someone from our own kingdom would do well?”

“Is this about that confounded peasant girl?” The king howled, standing from his chair and pacing angrily behind it.

Jungkook stood himself, quietly and with great poise. His father’s greatest weakness was how strongly his emotion ruled him. If the prince could present a calm and collected face, perhaps his father could see reason.

“Yes, it is.” He admitted. The king stopped suddenly, turning to look at his son. “I am in love with her.”

The king opened and closed his mouth a few times, surprise clearly etched into the wrinkles of his eyes. “Well,” he blustered, “well, what’s that to do with running a kingdom? Who is this girl anyway?”

“Father, your concern is that you want what is best for the kingdom. Please believe me when I say, that is my desire as well.” The king paused a moment, scrubbing a hand down his tired face. “I have the deepest respect for you and for this kingdom. I want what is best for the people that are in my care. It is why I chose to spend so much time out trying to see the village. I will admit that it has been difficult to make acquaintances with the people without giving myself away; so, I chose to spend time studying them from afar.”

His father resumed his seat, beckoning for his son to sit again. “The people are hardworking, father.” Jungkook continued, “They are good and they are kind and I wish to know their truest needs and desires. I believe the best way to do so would be to choose a bride from among them; someone who knows intimately what it is to be a villager in our kingdom.”

“And you wish for that girl to be your wife?” The king asked, fingers bouncing along the arm of his chair as his gaze switched from the flames to his son and back again.

“I do.” Jungkook admitted. “I would do anything to have her. Anything including…including giving up my claim to the throne.”

The king turned to him suddenly, surprise renewed and his whole body tensed. “Give up the throne?!”

The prince nodded, folding his hands together and staring straight at his father. “If that’s what it takes. It is not my desire to abdicate the throne, but if that’s what it takes to have the woman I love, I would do it.”

The king spluttered again noisily before shifting a few times in his chair, as though his body was filled with energy he couldn’t seem to release. He stared straight into the fire and Jungkook could see the thoughts racing behind his eyes.

“And what of the princess? Margit still needs to marry to ascend to the throne.”

Jungkook smiled softly at his father. “I would not have suggested such a drastic change in plans if I didn’t have a solution.” He said softly.

“I suppose you mean for her to marry a peasant as well?” The king grumbled, twisting the ring on his middle finger in quick circles.

“Not quite a peasant. A huntsman.”

The king scoffed before groaning and dropping his head into his hands. Jungkook watched him, his heart squeezing with compassion. All his father had ever known was duty; his head was not accustomed to giving way to his heart.

He sighed, glancing up at his son, looking more tired than ever before. “You know I want you to be happy,” he said. “As a father, I want you to find happiness no matter what, but as your king, I need you to also be reasonable; to see what you’re asking of me. This is no easy thing…to marry a commoner.”

“I know,” Jungkook nodded, leaning forward on his elbows again, seeking his father’s eyes. “I know what I ask of you is difficult, but love and duty can be joined for once. I can be happy and still rule this kingdom well; better in fact, with one of its women as my backbone.”

The king smiled softly, shaking his head. “You have the determination of your mother, you know.”

“You say that as though it were a bad thing.” The prince smiled and the king shrugged.

“It depends on the day.” Silence descended on the room, only the cracks of the fire as company while the king thought. “You’ve still not told me the name of your bride.” He said finally.

Jungkook looked up at his father, dark eyes twinkling in the light of the fire. “I think you will quite like her.” He grinned. . .

“You’re betrothed?” Else choked, standing at the doorway of her home and you smiled. “To the prince?!”

You chuckled, leaning against the timber walls. “That’s correct. You’ve met him you know…the man from the market. Jungkook.”

“That was the prince?” Else squawked and the chickens in her yard fluttered away with angry screeches. “How in the world did you woo him? How did you ever get the chance? Oh my, poor Peter! He will be so disappointed.”

Your heart dropped at the mention of his name. You’d requested your father not tell him after the prince had come to inquire after your hand. Your father had nearly fallen off his seat when the prince had expressed his desire; thought he’d about lost his mind to be asking such an absurd question. He was a prince!

Of course, he’d given permission and then became so suddenly thrilled you thought he might just run into the streets telling anyone he saw. You wanted your friends to hear it from you, though. Especially Peter. Else was right, of course, Peter would be heartbroken. But you knew the news would be best coming from you and not from gossip. You were one of his best friends, after all.

“Yes,” you agreed with a sigh. “I plan to meet with him today to tell him. The announcement will go out to the village tomorrow so this is my only opportunity. I’m not excited for it.”

“No, I supposed not.” Else commiserated. “You are to be queen, though! Never could I have imagined.”

“It feels uncomfortable to think it.” You admitted, leaning your forehead against the wall. “I’m not deserving of the title at all.”

Else frowned, hands going to rest on her hips as she looked at you. “I disagree completely.” She huffed, “You will make an excellent queen. You are kind and thoughtful, you keep the best interest of others at heart. You know the needs of the people. There is no one better for it.”

You smiled, shaking your head at her. “So decided are we, hey?” You sighed, standing straight and dusting off your dress. “I suppose I should go now. I want to catch Peter before he makes way home.”

Else wished you luck, demanding further details at a later time and you left her at the door, traveling further up the dirt path. Peter lived a little further out of the village, on the farm his brother now owned. The day was beautiful and warm and made you feel calm as you moved down the lane.

You caught Peter just before he turned on the path to his home and he greeted you warmly. “Good morning, Y/N! What brings you here?”

You smiled gently, “I’ve come to see you, Peter.”

“Oh?” He said, smiling happily. “Well, this is a pleasant surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

You cleared your throat, pointing towards the fence and he followed you there, leaning up against it, pushing the bag at his hip aside. “I was wondering if I might have a word with you.” You said softly.

Peter seemed surprised. It was unlike you to be so formal, so timid and you could see the questions on his face. “Of course. What’s troubling you?”

You sighed, straightening your shoulders and looking up at him. “I wanted you to hear the news from me, as I think it will come as quite a shock.” You paused to gauge his reaction, but he only looked confused. You continued. “I am engaged to be married.”

“Oh,” he paused, looking stricken, “To Meinolf? He did say…well, he did say he thought he might like to do so.”

“No,” You said softly, eyeing his expression. It was worse than you’d thought. He seemed to be struggling a great deal to keep the heartbreak from his face. “I am engaged to be married to the prince.”

“The prince?” Peter repeated, numb. He stared down at the ground, hands twisting around the strap of his bag. “The one in the castle?”

You wanted to ask if he knew another prince, but understood his shock. “Yes.” You confirmed patiently.

“How?-” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat, shaking his head before continuing. “How did such a thing come about?”

“Well,” you sighed, “it started rather simply. They came to our house that time, months ago as you know, after he’d returned home from school. We were then invited to the castle and after I’d taken faint, he came to seek after my health. He requested my help in getting to know the village and I thought it would be rather good to have a king who knows intimately the struggles of his people.”

You took a deep breath and Peter nodded for you to continue. “So, I agreed and we began to spend time together. I showed him around the village; had him meet some people I thought he might like to know about, and we became naturally closer.”

Peter closed his eyes, leaning against the fence and absorbing the information. Your heart thudded painfully at the pinched look on his face, but you waited for him to be ready. “And he fell in love with you?” He asked finally.

At your shy nod, he continued. “I am unsurprised by this. You are easy to fall in love with.” He said softly. You tried not to look pitying. You hated when people pitied you and you could imagine Peter would feel the same. “But do you love him? I remember you saying something about wanting to be in love.”

He looked earnest in his inquiry, like he really hoped for an honest answer so you felt at ease to give this to him. “I do.” You said, “I love him very much.”

He sighed deeply, licking at his bottom lip before nodding. “Then I am happy for you; you deserve happiness. I always knew you could have done much better than me.”

“Don’t say that.” You chastised, “Don’t lower yourself for my honor. You deserve to be with someone who loves you just as much as you love them. Do you think you could ever truly be with someone who didn’t reciprocate your feelings?”

He shrugged, staring up into the sky, robin’s egg blue and clear of all clouds. “It’s hard to say for sure, I’ve never tried it. You’re probably right, though…to love and be loved in return; it sounds wonderful. I’m happy for you, Y/N. I wish you a very happy marriage.”

“Thank you, Peter.” You smiled.

He nodded, staring down the dirt path towards his house.” I should go. Home, I mean. They’re expecting me.”

“Of course.” You murmured, watching as he nodded once more before turning and resuming his walk. . .

The view of the village from the top of the hill by the mill was particularly beautiful today. The summer was waning slowly, but leaving in its wake a shimmering warmth. You sat below the tree with the gnarl, legs tucked underneath your dress, resting your chin against your knees.

In a fortnight, everything would change. You would no longer be with your parents; your responsibilities would be completely new. You would be expected to learn politics, languages, public affairs…it would be a lie if you said the thought didn’t make you feel faint.

You’d do it all to have Jungkook, but you certainly hadn’t thought much passed just being with him before your dreams actually came true. Now you were expected to take on the responsibilities as your kingdoms future queen and you felt ill equipped to do so.

The village below you was teeming with life. You could hear the calls of people selling their goods; could see the butcher’s wife walking up through the streets with a basket full of sausages to tempt people into their shop. No one could imagine that tomorrow, one of their own would be elevated to a position so unimaginable. You worried that maybe some would resent you.

Perhaps some would imagine themselves worthy of royalty and wonder why they themselves had not been given a chance. How could you even begin to explain that you weren’t given a chance either? It just sort of…happened.

No, you supposed you would just have to endure whatever fall out may come. No monarch was unanimously liked…aside from perhaps Snow when she eventually took the throne. You smiled at the thought. Yes, you imagined she would be well liked.

“I thought I would find you here.”

You turned to find the prince moving slowly towards you, hands clasped behind his back. The breeze moved through his hair lethargically, the strands framing his face handsomely. You could hardly believe he was yours.

“You were looking for me, your majesty?” You teased, fingers twisting in the fabric of your dress as he scrunched his face at you.

“Yes, my future queen.”

You huffed, flushing and staring out at the village below you. “I feel faint at the thought of it.” You admitted.

“It is a lot of responsibility.” He sighed, sitting down beside you and slipping his fingers into yours. “We’ll do it together, won’t we?’

“Yes, we will.” You smiled up at him.

“Did you speak with Else and Peter?” He asked delicately, tracing the veins against the back of your hand.

“I did.” You replied. “Else was very happy and Peter was disappointed; nothing I didn’t expect. They send their well wishes, though. Both of them.”

The morning was ebbing into early afternoon as you sat on that hill top together, fingers linked, the prince’s thumb stroking back and forth across the back of your hand as you enjoyed one another’s company.

“Do you remember the first time we saw each other again? At your house.” He asked suddenly. You turned your attention towards him as he smiled down at you. “Your family was waiting for my father and I outside your house and we hadn’t seen each other in years.”

“Of course I remember.” You smiled, “I was dreading it. I assumed you’d be that same awful boy from before, just older.”

Jungkook flushed pink, lips twisting into a lopsided smile. “I have the feeling you thought I still was after that meeting.”

You could remember his words even now, he’d treated you as though you were just a toy to be played with, something to amuse him. Even now, you couldn’t reconcile that man with the man before you today. “Yes, you didn’t make a great impression. I felt as though you just saw me as an accessory.”

His head hung low, bobbing up and down with his nod. “Yes, I apologize for that. At the time, I hadn’t realized how it had sounded. It was upon further reflection that I felt I had sounded unkind. I only meant to ensure that you would be at the castle with your father and Peter.”

“Why is that?” You asked him.

He smiled, staring down the hillside and avoiding your gaze. “You looked very pretty. I am a man after all, and I wanted to see you again. To show you that I’d changed. I didn’t do so well that first day.”

“No,” you said with a laugh. “No, you did not do well at all that day. Did you know that my mother put me in my best dress to go see you in the castle? I couldn’t understand why she would waste effort on making me look so presentable when I was going to go see the king. Why would he need for me to look nice?”

“The effort certainly was not wasted.” Jungkook said softly and you smiled, looking up into his soft brown eyes, warmed from affection. “You looked even more beautiful that day. I could hardly believe how much you had changed. It made me feel ashamed of myself.”

“Really?” You asked in surprise and he nodded.

“Because I had assumed that you would still be that same little girl that I had misjudged. You were amazing, though. Vivacious, beautiful, gentle, and you were so unwilling to be what others wanted you to be. That was very alluring.”

You laughed, your chest fit to bursting with equal amounts pride and embarrassment. “You make me sound so lovely.” You mumbled.

Jungkook smiled, hand going to rest against your cheek and you looked up at him, heartbeat accelerating. “You are lovely. So lovely. I love you deeply. You are far more than I deserve. I am only a man.”

“And I am only a woman.” You smiled, cheek nestling deeper in his hand as his thumb made waves across your flesh. “let’s be equals, shall we?”

His lips against yours was his gentle acceptance. . . ** About 2 months later **

The early morning was crisp. You stood at the balcony dressed in only your night shirt and a glass of warm tea clutched in your hands. Your attendant had recently left after waking you and you sipped sleepily at your drink.

You’d hardly slept last night; so much to occupy your mind. It had only been a month since your wedding, but after the party and the bedding ceremony were finished and you’d been able to get a night’s rest, you’d woken to lessons and training from sun up to sun down.

The king had been uncommonly kind; understanding of your limitations and patient with your learning. He said you were doing remarkably well all things considered. You felt he flattered you to the point of near dishonesty, but you appreciated his faith in you none the less.

It was intimidating to jump into a role you were so whole heartedly unprepared for. You could never have truly imagined how much work it would take to become an acceptable ruler. Still, there was a part of you that was really enjoying your time learning.

In the village, you’d been unable to return to school once your womanhood had begun. Your mother insisted you stay home and learn to tend a home when that time came; insisting it was the education you would need anyway.

At the time, it had felt unfair, but you’d understood. As far as you knew, you would grow up to tend a home and bear children. Language and politics were of no use to you. Now, of course, everything had changed and you felt very ill equipped.

It was still early enough in the morning that most of the villagers had not woken. You could see some smoke plumes in chimneys from your spot on the balcony, but otherwise, all was silent. A knock at your bedroom door roused your attention and you called out softly for their entry.

You knew it was Jungkook anyway.

“Good morning.” He said gently, closing the door behind him and making his way over towards your balcony. “I see the master of the wardrobe has not come yet.”

“I asked for a little extra time to revive myself.” You hummed.

Jungkook moved behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and you could see that he himself was already dressed in his outer clothing.

“You look beautiful.” He murmured, leaving a kiss against your cheek and you huffed pleasantly.

“I just woke up. I look like the undead.”

“Impossible!” Jungkook insisted. You could feel his interest against your back, the warmth of his body drawing you closer and you smiled as his nose drew a delicate line across your jaw.

“We don’t have time.” You mumbled as his lips made their way across your neck and collarbone.

“I only need a few minutes.” He murmured, hands wandering temptingly upwards.

“That’s not as reassuring as it sounds.” You teased and you could hear his muffled laugh in the dip of your neck. “I still need to dress, we need to eat, and then we must travel a morning’s journey. We don’t have as much time as you think.”

You turned in his arms, placing your cup down on the table by the door and wrapping your arms around his neck. He looked unfathomably handsome this morning. Long dark hair pushed away from his face and wearing an ornate, deep blue tunic embossed in gold.

“My prince charming.” You sighed, looking up at him and he smiled. “I still can’t believe you’re mine.”

“I’m very persuasive.” The prince hummed, rocking your bodies lightly from side to side, “My father didn’t stand a chance. I knew you would be here with me someday.”

You laughed, running your hand up his chest. “Your confidence is almost alarming at times.”

“Alarmingly attractive.” Jungkook said as you stepped away from him and back into the bedroom. You hummed your agreement and he smiled. “Shall I call the master of the wardrobe?”

“Yes please,” you said, surveying the bags of scented perfume on your bureau.

After Jungkook returned from calling the help, he moved towards where you stood, two bags in your hands. “Which should I choose for today?”

You held each bag out for his inspection and he smelled them carefully before picking one. “You know this is my favorite.” He said, fiddling with the strings of a bag you’d left on the top of the bureau.

“Yes, but I also know how you behave when I wear it and we can’t be doing that at a wedding of all places.” You teased.

“True.” He grinned wolfishly.

A knock at the door and the master of the wardrobe was stepping in at your call. Jungkook left you to get dressed with a promise to wait for you down at breakfast. . .

Snow looked radiant in her wedding dress. Deep red with gold accenting; her lovely dark hair held high in a golden snood and a crown perched delicately on top of her head. She was more beautiful than you’d ever seen her; beaming happily at Dietrich as he spoke with a wedding guest.

The king led both Jungkook and yourself towards the couple and Snow smiled even brighter, embracing you tightly. “Your highness!” She beamed, nodding her head at the king who tucked his own in greeting. “Your majesties. You’ve all come. I am so happy to have you join us today.”

“It is the greatest pleasure.” The king replied grandly. “It is a wonderful day for a wedding, is it not? The weather is pleasant and the food is plenty.”

The hall of Snow’s castle was beautiful. The kingdom of Vildüngan was nestled in the rolling green hills of Weidenbaum auf Nidd. The décor of the dining hall reflected the nature surrounding the castle, vines draped across windows and corridors with soft pink and blue forget-me-nots and edelweiss tucked into the foliage.

The high table and three long tables in the center had been adorned with dining ware, ready for their occupants. You could smell the tantalizing scents of the kitchen wafting to where you all stood, sweet and savory already pricking your taste buds into excitement.

“Will you be our honored guests at the high table?” Snow asked, her arm linked through that of her new husband’s.

“How could we refuse such a generous offer?” Jungkook smiled, motioning for them to move forward and the three in your party followed after, greeting foreign dignitaries and foreign royalty on your way.

The high table afforded you a spectacular view of the dining hall and its occupants. As everyone seated themselves, the servants began to fill the tables with food; so much you felt you could almost hear the tables groaning under the weight.

You filled your plate with the food closest to you as you engaged in conversation with the queen from Duchy of Savoy. She spoke of her children, all too young to attend, and you smiled and laughed with her stories.

She made you feel an anxious sort of excitement for your future with Jungkook. He was talking animatedly with the King, cutting into a shank of lamb and you tried desperately to concentrate on your own present conversation, despite how distracting he was.

The evening waxed late when a trumpet was sounded and Snow smiled, standing tall before all in the room. “I want to thank you once again, on behalf of myself and my new husband. How gracious you are for coming to be with us this evening and to celebrate our union. There was a time not so long ago when things could have been very different than they are now.”

She glanced down at both Jungkook and you, a small smile curving her lips up. “We have much to be grateful for tonight. Your company, for starters.” The room cheered loudly, clanking cups against the wooden tables and Snow laughed. “Yes, and of course my health. I am indebted to my dear husband on that account. I am grateful for the bravery of friends that changed the tides of fate. For the flexibility of my people and the sovereigns of this land who felt that with great change, a better world could be created.”

The room was quiet, but happily so. The atmosphere was warm and pleasant, the buzz of contentedness you got from a full belly and a warm fire. You felt the alluring tendrils of sleep tug behind your eyes, but the party was still young and you hadn’t had a dance yet.

“I hope, that going forward from this evening on, we will form a great alliance one with another; that we will remember this evening and these warm feelings. I beg we rise together, that we align together to look after our brothers of distant countries and remember we are family. I know each of you by name and you have great worth to me. Let us celebrate as long as the moon will allow and remain tied as long as our kingdoms shall endure. To our futures together!”

“Here here!” Called the room, lifting cups and drinking deeply. Jungkook finished his own glass, turning to face you and reaching for your hand under the table.

“May we live long and reign with all the dignity and love we have in us.” He whispered.

You smiled, squeezing his hand in yours, warm and whole. You felt secure, you felt loved, and you finally felt like you’d found your rightful place. With him.

“Here here.”

I’m so sorry it’s late! I had a crazy weekend and completely forgot. It’s over, though! Can’t believe it’s done. I hope that you enjoyed and I’d really appreciate you sharing your thoughts! <3

#jungkook scenarios #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook fanfic #bts jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #bts jungguk #bts jeon jungguk

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hopeaterart · 3 years ago

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So... Pyrrha. I hesitated for a while on whether or not I was keeping her alive in my AU. Basically it was a narrative (Pyrrha's death was needed to make the Fall of beacon have actual weight and make the characters move forward) vs sentimentality (Pyrrha was nice and I miss her) conflict. Sentimentality won, so here's her design from Volume 7 and onwards. I went for a slightly more practical feel. Narrative stuff under the cut.

Basically, after the Fall of Beacon, Pyrrha kind of... hit a wall. What she thought was her destiny ended up going to someone else, she and her friends were betrayed by someone they trusted, that someone shot her in the ankles and her weapon destroyed, and she would've been killed had Ruby been a minute later. So she went back to Argus, and gave up being a warrior. This is why Jaune still ends up with her sash and the metals to modify Crocea Mors, and why Team J_NR is still very pained. Having a friend end up so utterly broken can be very painful.

Instead of the scene at the statue, Jaune finds Pyrrha again, and the two talk. She helps him find Ozpin and Oscar, who had run off to buy Oscar some proper winter clothes (and because Oscar is, at this point, the only person Ozpin can stand being around) and her presence allows everyone to remember why they're doing this: so another Beacon won't happen. Her arc is about getting back up after falling down, especially when you feel like you've disappointed everyone, so it's fitting that she's reintroduced in Volume 6.

She decides that now that she's found them again, she can't simply leave her friends behind, and picks up a spear and shield to help them against Cordovin. Once in Atlas, ends up forging Kravgí and Psíthyros, aka new weapon and shield, out of them. Unlike everyone who gets their Huntsman licenses at the beginning, Pyrrha has a lot of training to catch up on, and Ozpin is more than glad to spend most of that volume rigorously training her so she can catch up with her team. Luckily for her, she's always been a fast learner.

She also spends most of Volume 7 bonding and training with Oscar, and helping him create his own weapon. I think they would've liked each other.

#art #my art #rwby art #fanart #rwby pyrrha #pyrrha nikos #rwby au #hptr au #pyrrha lives au #rwby

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heliosthegriffin · 4 years ago

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Gamer AU

Author’s Note: I really badly want to write a gamer!Jaune Fanfic, but getting a system to work that makes sense to me has been a bitch to deal with, and no, I don’t want to use the system from the Gamer, it’s over used. So I’ve been making my own system from the ground up. Any the story’s nowhere near ready for day light. Also, the main focus would be on Jaune and his immediate family and that drama, so pretty OC heavy. It’d also start pretty early in his life around ten or so, he also isn’t very interested in being a hunter, just making sure his family is happy and alive.

Any-who: Here’s a scene clip from my head, that’ll be better fleshed out later.

Scene: The Waterfront Cafe

Jaune hurriedly walks back and forth through the cafe, makings sure the dozen or so customers were being well cared for, while he cooks their food.

It was only midday, but he had already make a decent profit, meaning he didn’t have to work into the evening and keep the cafe open. A couple more weeks and he might have enough to permanently hired a waiter; For now though, he was soloing his way through running his sisters-... his cafe.

He shook his head and focused on the positive today. Like how he was fifteen years old and a successful business owner, well several businesses... and other things that were definitively illegal. but like Roman says “Legal is for people who don’t want to get rich.”

The thought of his friend, even if Roman would never admit it, brought a genuine smile to his face. He hoped Roman his enforcer came to visit soon. They made for good conversation, and were good tippers, even if the other one got a little grabby. Still, Roman had yet to send him a time to keep the Waterfront open for him to visit, so he’d have to keep a look out for one of his runners.

Only Jaune Arc would think so casually about having a powerful crime boss as a friend and customer, and his stab-happy murder goblin enforcer.

Also only Jaune Arc would fail to notice despite his Perception well over 70 that his genuine smile cause all who saw it to melt and turn their legs into jelly.

“First time?” “What? What do you mean? And what the hell was that!?” A customer whisper yelled.

“The Jaune Arc Smile, it has an effect on people. Beside the divine cooking, it’s one of the reason people come here.”

“... That's insane.”

“Oh, definitely. But, is that going to stop you from coming back?”

“I said that this was insane, but I didn’t say I was stupid. I haven’t felt so content in years.”

The two customers drifted off into conversation.

Jaune still failing to notice, having a professional standard of not ease-dropping on his customers.

Of course with that being the case Jaune failed to notice the two loud-mouth women who walked in and sat down at a table like they owned the place.

Neither woman was particularly attractive, or in shape, in-fact the only interesting thing about either was the fact that they both had dyed grey hair with grey contacts. With the only thing differing about the two, was the taller one was fat, and the shorter one thin.

“So, I said “what are you part of the Alpha Male Huntsmen agenda? Cause if you don’t give me that purse for free I’m going to cry rape!” Then he gave it to me and ran his little ass back to home.” The taller one said

“Oh, you are such a bad bitch!.” Replys the shorter one. “Oh, don’t I know it, so why are we here?”

“Oh, you don’t know, the food here is killer! Or, so I heard.”

“Really? It just looks like a shitty little cafe, the only thing really note is the location.”

“Yeah, I saw it while looking on the Scroll. Also, the service is great, but the thing is... It’s only run by one guy! You know what that means?” Shortys says

“Yes!”

““Free lunch!”“The a pair says together.

“When this glass of water get here!?”

“See, told you get the service was great!”

Jaune appears before the table, apron on, long golden hair in a ponytail and, notebook in hand. “Did some say service?

“Oh shit!”

“Fuck! Where did you come from?!” “Sorry Misses. I thought you two would like some service? I can give you more time if you’d like.”

The two get a full view of Jaunes features, reducing themselves into a blushing stuttering mess.

“There are you can scan the table for the menu if you like, or check the website, I’ll give you some more time.” Jaune says leaving with another pearly white smile.

Further burning out the pair’s brain cells.

A few minutes later.

“How, how can guy be so gorgeous? You said he was a guy right!?” The taller one says “Yeah, I did! All the reviews say he’s a guy!” Shortys says. “Like read this here, “The server is amazing, he always arrives on time, never pry's, but will always listen, what he cooks can only be called art and a world wonder, I am always happy to tip!”

The pair look at each other. “I thought it was reviewer bias.” “What ever, gorgeous or not, I’m getting a free meal today.” Say the fatter one.

The shorter one looks more hesitant. “I don’t know,, he looks so nice, it almost feels like a crime...”

“What do we care about crimes, when it’s the Alpha Male Huntsman Regime oppressing us!”

“... I’ll stick to paying, you do you though...” The shorter of the pair says, twirling her hair, heavily reconsidering keeping a different color.

“Whatever traitor, I’ll show you, and then you’ll see I’m right!”

“Suuure.” The shorter, and obviously smart one says disbelieving, ‘If he’s that pretty and nice, there’s no way that’s going to happen, cause either he’s way tough, or someones looking after him, otherwise this place would be out of business, with people trying to take advantage of him. ’

Half an hour later.

The larger one has several plates and cups empty before her, seemingly having everything on the menu, holding her bloated stomach in a state of ecstasy.

The shorter one only having finished a two plates, having had a club sandwich and muffin, along with the house brew, filling just the right amount of full and very content.

“Misses?” Jaune says “I hope you found everything to your liking.” His smile sweet like sugar, but warm like the spring breeze.

The shorter one blushes hard. “Uh, uh, yes” She finally squeaks out. “it was amazing...”

“’S alright, I guess” The fatter one says appearing disappointed and unimpressed.

Jaune seems a little hurt by the fatter one’s opinion, causing several other customers to look on murderously at the fat woman.

She is unfortunately oblivious to this.

Jaune lets go of the expression.” Well, my apologies miss, I’ll makes sure it’s better next time.”

‘It can get better!’ The fatty thinks.

The murderous glares grow sharper.

“I thought it was really good!” The shorter one says standing up, and then realizing how insanely tall and large Jaune is compared to her, and even her friend. His thighs being bigger than her torso, his pecs standing higher than she is and her friend. Yet he moved like the wind and with the grace of a dancer.

The large fatty snorts in disdainfully at her soon to be former friend.

“Now would you like to pay to together or separately?”

“I’m not pay-” The tall fatty begins. “Separately.” Only to be cut off by the shorter one. Who, glared at her, clearly unimpressed by her soon to be former friend.

Jaune nods and goes off to get their bills.

“The fuck was that! I was about to get us a free feel, bitch!”

“You were about to get us both kicked from the best cafe in the kingdom!”

“You, ungrateful cunt!”

“Whatever, I don’t need your approval,” She spots Jaune and walks over to take the bill, and tips him, before walking a way with an obvious skip in her step.

“Ma’am her is your bill-”

“I’m not paying.” “Come again?”

“I’m not paying you shit, you piece of garbage!” The woman says with a sneer.

Jaunes eyes narrow, he pulls up a chair and sits down staring her in the eyes.

“Why would that be ma’am, was there something not to your liking?” Jaune say his voice changing from airy, bubbly and sweet, to a deep, harsh, and cold tone. It was listening to a pop-star mixed with meowing of a kitten, and all the warmth of breezy, sunny spring day, to a cold winter night in Mantle while listening to a murdering whisper death-core to you .

The fat grey-head shook with intense fear for all of three second before speaking again, but not without withdrawing her eyes from his own.

“I said before I’ll say it again bastard, I’m not paying you a cent, you Valiaen Huntsman supporting shitlord!”

“My father’s a huntsman, if you have a problem with them please, do keep them to yourself.”

“I’ll say whatever I want shitlord! And if you so much as touch me, I’ll scream you rape you rapist shithole!” The woman says, suddenly getting her confidence back, remembering that she’s the one with power in this situation, or so she thinks. “An if you try anything, beside letting me walk out of here without paying, I’ll make sure you never see your family again, or even better, make sure your whole Huntsman propaganda spewing familys face’s kicked from the kingdom! And guess what fuckup? I going to come back here tomorrow with my friends and your going to give us all a free-”

“Quiet.” A single word came from Jaune’s mouth, but from the way the woman closed her mouth it looked like he shut her mouth with his own two hands.

Jaune stopped holding back his overwhelming level of Personality and letting it Project forward, all 80 levels of it and his maxed out Intimidation.

The fat woman suddenly became aware of how close Jaune was to here, how big his hands are, how long and strong his arms are, he wouldn’t even need to get up to grab her neck across the table and his hands could cover her entire next with ease, it would take no effort for him to kill then and there, and that shook her.

From the corners of her eyes it was like she could she the other customer turnign way with, but not out of fear, but with intense glee! He could kill her then and there and they wouldn’t say a word, they might even help!

Jaune spoken and with it came a weight so heavy that it choked the words out of her.

“Listen here, I’m going to say this once and never again, after I finish telling you this, you will be like you never existed to me, is that clear?” Jaune said to her with a sinister, cold and happy smiles. It was like looking at an open grave with her name on it.

She nodded with all her force, and barely let out a ”Yes,” Feeling hyper-aware of Jaune and his body, easily seeing him choking her, hitting her and smashing her face in, taking a knife to her neck letting her bleed out, the phantom pain of a eye being gouged out, and near endless death Jaune could bring to her, all while listening to him.

“I was being humble earlier, but you don’t downplay my cooking, I”m the best chef without a degree in the kingdom, In a couple months I will be the best chef in the kingdom. I am the best cafe in this kingdom. I am no rapist, but even if I was why would waste my time going after, a fat, loose, stupid, boring, and painfully annoying creature as you, do you think my standard are low enough to be in the sewer, because that where I’d fine you, But, I could accept all of that abuse.” Jaune rapid-fired at her, “But,” His eyes looked at her like razors. “But, you tried to bring my family into this... And, NOBODY, AND, I MEAN NOBODY, BEING, OR, ENTITY! MESSES WITH MY FAMILY! IS THAT YELL YOU FUCKING MICROSCOPIC, WORTHLESS, VACUUM OF INTELLIGENCE, PARASITE!?” Jaune said to her calmly before yelling at her, his voice like a hurricane on steroids made of pure anger.

The woman shook before him, tearing falling freely, squeaking out in pure terror for her life. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” Jaune shook out another caverous roar. “BITCH! I did not ask for your worthless sorry ass to say SORRY! I ASKED IF YOU GOT IT?! WELL? DID YOU FUCKING GET IT?!”

“YES, SIR I GOT! I’M SO SORRY! PLEASE DON’T-“ The woman screamed in terror,

“THEN GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE, YOU GOT YOUR FUCKING FREE MEAL, GET OUT OF HERE AND NEVER COME BACK, IF I SO MUCH AS SEE A HAIR OF YOU’RE FAT ASS, I”M GOING TO MAKE SURE THEY HAVE A MISSING PERSON’S WARRANT ON YOUR FAT ASS, AND YOU KNOW FUCKING WHAT? NOBODYS GOING TO CARE, NOW LEAVE!” Jaune said punctuation the last word by pounding the table with hands while screaming into the face of the woman.

She ran, she ran like her life depended on it, a trail of piss following her, ugly crying all the way home.

Jaune then turned to his customers. “I’m sorry, about that folks,” His voice once again melodic and beautiful. “But, I’m sure that will not happen for about a month or two.” “Don’t worry we didn’t see anything.” His regulars said, with smug grins and some outright laughing or recording to put on dustube.

“Well, since y’all didn’t see anything, I say free coffee and today pie on the house!”

“WHOO!!”

Jaune then cleaned the table, and grabbed several glasses to refill, before returning the kitchen.

Returning to the two customers from earlier.

“What was that?”

“Oh that, don’t worry about that, it comes and goes, but we regulars call it free coffee and desert day.” “That’s insane... Who wouldn’t pay for this food?”

“You got a good head on you, kid.”

Jaune was in the kitchen cooking with one hand, and typing into his scroll behind his back with the other.

‘Junior, I got a favor to call in.’

Buzz.

‘The Malachite's saw everything.’

Jaune smirked evilly.

‘Good, tell them I’ll have their favorites ready when they get here... And something for you too.’

With Junior.

Junior: Happy crime boss noises.

The Next day.

The short grey hair girl arrived just as Jaune was opening.

“I am so sorry! About that I’d like to apologize for the idiots behavior.” “Oh it’s fine, I get customers like that from time to time. Now though I must say you look better without out those grey eyes. Brown suits you better.” The short hair-girl blushed heavily, having stopped using the color contacts.

“Thanks you...” “Now would like some breakfast?”

“YES!”

Authors note:Whew, that was exhausting, but I think it turned out ok.

By the way I came up for some names for the customers.

The first regulars name is Bronson

The new guy is Becker

The fat girl is Licorish

The shorter girl is Gracie

If your curioius why Jaune’s not in school and running a his sisters cafe, or where his sister is, that will all be touch on in the story.

Now here’s Jaunes Stats

Jaune Arc

15 and 1/4

Male

Strength: 68 Speed: 72

- Toughness: 6 - Grace: 7

Wits: 53 Wisdom: 82

- Calculation: 5 - Mental Fortress: 8

Personality: 80 Perception: 75

- Attraction: 8 -Sensory : 7

- Anima:390 (This option is greyed out)

- Aura Level: 3900 (this option is greyed out)

Now these are still subject to change.

He’s maxed out: Cooking, Dancing, Intimation, CQC, MMA, Valerian Boxing, Valerian Fencing, Short blade, Cleaning, Stealth, Sprinting, Climbing, Voice Manipulation, Body Control, ????? That’s all I’m listing for now, but it will only grow.

Traits:???? Heheh, watch and wait.

That’s all for now fokes. Have a beautiful day.

#Jaune Arc Appreciation #Jaune Arc #gamer!au

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kitkatopinions · 3 years ago

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Accidentally deleted my Tyrian and Watts asks while I was trying to fix a mistake so... Sorry about that, everyone! Here they are! Tyrian and Watts for the RWBY character asks!

Let’s do Tyrian first, because I have less to say about him, I feel like.

My top three ships for the character

Tyrian/Watts. Dysfunctional villainous romance of the century, no one knows how they’ve managed to make it to their tenth anniversary without killing each other, including them. Tyrian/Salem is my second top ship for him. Major Bellatrix/Voldy vibes with this one, but I could see it. Tyrian/Hazel is my third ship for lack of options. Does this one make sense? No. But I can at least see Tyrian being super flirty and Hazel being endlessly tired, but never really stopping it. (Also I hate Hazel so much lol.)

My three least favorite ships for the character

Tyrian/Qrow sucks for me. Like... I kinda feel like two people fighting each other just gets shippers, which is fine and totally understandable. But for me, Tyrian poisoning Qrow and almost killing him and calling his beloved niece a bitch and then killing Clover is a big no from me, dog. On that note! Tyrian/Clover is also one big no from me, since Clover murdered him. And Tyrian/Ozpin is another really big no from me. Tyrian and his crazy Salem worship can stay five hundred and fifty feet away from my son.

My biggest criticism for the character

They went a little too much on the crazy in the fourth and fifth season and it made him feel annoying. Like, I don’t mind the Bellatrix vibes, but I do mind the movie version Bellatrix vibes, sometimes. It just got kinda annoying. I wish his crazy was always more on the dangerous side and less on the kooky side, but that’s just personal opinions.

My favorite thing about the character

The way people are so uncomfortable around him. Whenever Tyrian talks to Emerald or Mercury, he’s honestly freaky. Like both me and the characters are waiting for him to snap. That’s a great quality in a villain that we’re meant to hate or love to hate. He has a real presence and it’s enjoyable.

A headcanon I have about them

Tyrian doesn’t often try to act normal, but he can, and he’s got a great ‘respectable, cool guy’ act that’s actually a little reminiscent of Qrow or Clover. He’s even passed himself as a Huntsman here and there.

What I would change about them if I was making a re-write

More involvement in volumes 4 and 5, and I’d treat him a bit more seriously and make him a bit more dangerous. Maybe I’d have him wound a member of Team RNJR in his attack as well as poison Qrow (maybe give Jaune a reason to unlock his semblance in season 4 and in response to the pain of a member of his team. Also, his ‘Tyrian purple’ color should be more than just the color of his eyes. Like, how come so many RWBY characters season 4 and onward have such boring colors? I’d give Tyrian some strong purple and pink.

What I I think of their character allusion and what (if anything) I would change about it

Tyrian alludes to the animal fable ‘the Scorpion and the Frog,’ and that’s... really in name only, I think. A part of me wants to give them some kind of points for having Qrow work with him against Clover, only for Tyrian to kill Clover, which lines up with his ‘its just my nature’ scorpion stinging the frog so that they’ll both drown and die. But they didn’t mean for Qrow to really be wrong! They didn’t mean for the lesson to be ‘Qrow shouldn’t have trusted the poisonous villain’ it was ‘wowza does Qrow’s semblance hurt him. :( Too bad Clover got himself killed.’ Which makes the whole allusion kind of suck.

Now for Watts, the single best villain in my opinion.

My top three ships for the character

Tyrian/Watts. See above. This ship would be a dysfunctional mess, but it’d be a wild ride. Watts/Villain!Ironwood. I kind of hate this ship when it’s ‘fallen hero turned villain’ Ironwood. But if he actually had been written as a secret villain or obviously headed that way from the start, I can see him and Watts also being a dysfunctional mess of a wild ride ship, only with way more ‘evil power couple’ vibes than Tyrian and Watts would have. Also my favorite version of this features Watts having been the one to build Penny (maybe by stealing the plans from Pietro) and him and Ironwood raising a still bright and cheerful, still innocent and trusting, villain Penny who will attack to kill with a smile on her face and a ‘it was nice meeting you!’ And this is very weird and niche but Watts/Evil Stepsister (specifically the one with the sharp bangs and highlights.) Someone sent me an ask saying the Evil Stepmother and stepsisters should’ve been connected to Salem and gotten Cinder involved and I totally agree with this. I then started envisioning a world where the step sisters competed with Cinder and all three of them were raised in Salem’s circle. In this version of things, I could totally picture one of the step sisters having a romantic tension driven connection with Watts and the two of them subtly flirting sometimes (and bonding over their mutual hatred of Cinder.) I picked the sister with bangs for no real reason except that I like her look more.

My three least favorite ships for the character

Watts/Cinder. Watts thinks of her like a bratty little girl, and Cinder kills him. Watts/Lionheart. Kinda really hate this one because of how clearly Lionheart was terrified of him. Just a bit uncomfortable for me to see that in a relationship. Watts/Hero!Ironwood or Watts/HeroTurnedVillain/Ironwood. Sorry, but Ironwood in canon got such a bad, bad portrayal in season 8 and the end of season 7, and I just can’t help but blame Watts for quite a bit of it. I only like them as a ship if Ironwood is an antagonist from the start.

My biggest criticism for the character

They shouldn’t have killed him! He was one of Salem’s best followers and one of the best villains and it was such a big mistake to kill literally one of the only actual loyal followers. It threw off any character development for Cinder and it was a big mistake. I really wanted the Cinder / Watts / Neo team up to keep going! I’m so disappointed it got thrown away.

My favorite thing about the character

Watts is an entitled, petty bastard, and I think that’s so good for a villain that isn’t meant to be social commentary (because tbh, RWBY never should’ve tried to be social commentary.) Watts isn’t sympathetic, he’s an Atlas born and raised guy in a three piece suit, he’s posh, he’s upset because he wasn’t given exactly what he wanted. Most of the villains in RWBY are either victims of abuse, systemic oppression, or poverty, and that’s... Not fun in a show that’s never handled social commentary well and is about magical girls destroying Voldemort/Satan with the power of friendship (Ruby literally never says anything about Faunus rights iirc.) Watts is refreshing because he’s exactly the type of villain that you can expect in a show like what RWBY should’ve been, and he flourishes as that. Why would we be sympathetic to Watts when he’s just doing this all because he wasn’t picked first for his tech? Why would we feel soured towards conflicts with Watts and Team RWBY? He’s just a petty bastard being evil because he was snubbed. Why would we be frustrated that incredibly significant problems are being shoved to the side with Watts? He’s a fun villain, he’s not meant to be more, he’s not meant to make you emotionally invested only to then be gutted for it. You can hate to love him without it feeling bad. Maybe that’s why he’s just my favorite non-kid villain (other than Roman.)

A headcanon I have about them

Watts has been trying to build his own AI robot like Penny, in his spare time. He wanted it to be done in time to become a Maiden, but it wasn’t, and Salem gave that slot to Cinder and got after Watts for not contributing enough. He of course thought this was deeply unfair (especially after being made to contribute a lot to Cinder’s Beacon success without getting any credit for it.) And this just fueled his hatred of Cinder, his hatred of Pietro and Ironwood, and by extension, his hatred of Penny.

What I would change about them if I was making a re-write

I would keep him freaking alive and keep up the pair up he had going on with Cinder and Neo! But also I’d increase his relationships with Emerald, Mercury, Tyrian, Hazel... Just some more Salem’s Inner Circle moments to flesh out their characters. Other than that, I wouldn’t change much. He’s a pretty good character.

What I I think of their character allusion and what (if anything) I would change about it

Okay, I’ve talked about his character allusion in a very long post awhile ago, but I’m not scrolling down that far to tag it. To sum it up... I hate his allusion. XD I loved the Sherlock Holmes books and read most of them, and I didn’t realize he was supposed to allude to John Watson until I read someone else’s post saying so, and I started freaking out about how awful it was. Watts has so little in common with Watson, he’s essentially the anti-Watson. Which basically means he’s Sherlock Holmes, the opposite of Watson in almost every way, up to and including freaking faking his death which is one of the most iconic Sherlock Holmes thing ever. Watts is everything Sherlock Holmes is on his worst days, arrogant, callous, consumed with his projects, petty, smug, over the top - as well as being hyper intelligent and a genius who often just gets passed over. He has rivalries with his colleagues like Holmes did. And like I said, he faked his death, only to reveal himself to an old friend later on the cusp of carrying out a scheme. He’s evil Holmes! He has nothing to do with John Watson - caring, humble, down to earth, not brilliant like his friend but content to be ordinary and special because of his emotional depth and devoted heart, medical former doctor who spends quite a lot of time chronicling the successes of someone else because he’s content to live in the background. Don’t get me wrong, a ‘Watson’ character who is evil could work - Watson himself indulged in crime for the sake of Holmes sometimes in the original works and if he worshipped Salem or one of her followers and did everything for her while still being a more humble, more friendly, not brilliant person he could be good - but Watts is not that person. Even the gimmicks Watts is given are stupid and don’t make it obvious he’s Watson. Boy’s got a moustache and a revolver and they thought that’d be enough. Idk why they thought 'we’ll make him Watson’ when he’s clearly a Holmes! Also, he’s supposed to be ‘Watson if he’d met Moriarty instead of Holmes,’ and to that I say boo! Watson wouldn’t turn into a super genius just because he meets a different mastermind!

...That’s summing up my feelings, yeah. Because I have so many feelings about his warped, weird character allusion. If I was changing it, I’d just make him Holmes like I think he was clearly supposed to be.

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spectralscathath · 5 years ago

Text

Queen, Knave, King

fair Game Week, Day 6: Atlas Ball/Mantle Battle

Clover Ebi is in love with a dusty old Qrow. He knows it, Elm knows it, even Robyn knows it.

Let the cards fall where they may.

Ao3 Link

Elm spotted Branwen as he skulked around the edge of the Schnee grounds, snow crunching under his shoes in the silence as his cape fluttered behind him, the cold winds bracing and biting at her cheeks.

She shrugged to herself and walked over, giving Vine a wave to let him know she was going off on her own. He gave her a simple nod back, drawing a smile from her. It was nice to have such simple trust with her close friend.

Most people usually assumed they were a couple, which was something that Elm didn’t mind, exactly, but she knew Vine was as utterly disinterested in romance as she herself was. It just wasn’t something she felt. She’d rather have a close friend to watch her back then a lover, and that was that.

Before Vine had joined the Ace Ops, that friend had been Clover. The two of them had just been specialists that Ironwood kept pairing up, his flexible weapon and clever mind pairing well with her sheer sturdiness and ample strength.

It had been an excellent distraction at first, to apply her Huntress skills again with an entirely new element, and this time with someone who had luck on his side almost all the time. Much less likely he’d go the way of her old team. That had been reassuring.

Somewhere along the line, she’d started feeding him. She couldn’t help it, cooking and baking were just as much in her blood as being a warrior was. Unlike the friendships of team SBLE, formed through four years of battle and school, Clover’s friendship was found over shared meals and stories of a world beyond Atlas.

So, when she’d seen her friend steadily falling head-over-heels for a grumpy spy with a reckless defiance and a dour attitude, of course she knew it was her solemn duty to make sure her friend wasn’t going to get another scar on his ironically unlucky heart.

“Hey! Branwen!” She called out as he migrated from the grounds to striding along the top of the garden wall, steps light and balanced with his hands in his pockets.

He glanced at her and raised a brow, shifting his weight so he didn’t fall as she jogged over. “You after something, Ederne?”

She put a hand on her hip and looked up at his perch, taking another moment to deliberate on her plan of attack. “You know, you’ve been here for ages now and I still haven’t gotten a chance to even talk to you.”

“Been busy,” he drawled, shrugging at her.

“Hanging out with Clover, yes, I’m aware,” she grinned brashly, watching as his hair puffed up a little bit like an actual bird’s.

“What’s it to you?” Oh he got huffy. Guess he didn’t like that.

“Nothing much, I just want to talk.” She toned down her volume a little bit. Not everyone was as gung-ho as she was.

“About Clover?” Qrow glared at her, and were his cheeks a little pinker or was Elm imagining things?

“Maybe. But also just in general. I’ve seen reruns of your team’s Vytal Festivals. You were pretty impressive in your Academy days.” So was she, considering she had the winner’s trophy still on her shelf at her place.

Qrow gave her a suspicious look before he sat down on the wall, one leg dangling down as he used his other knee to prop up his elbow. “You’re a tournament fan?”

“I have the boxsets,” she admitted without a trace of shame. “You’re not?”

“I watched the one my nieces were in and that’s it. Except for when it was on in Vale when Ruby and Yang were kids, then it was a big family outing.” He waved a hand dismissively. “What’s your angle?”

“No angle.” That got a scoff. “Clover’s a good man to have watching your back out in the field. A good friend off of it as well.”

“Thought you Ace Ops didn’t do friendship,” he rolled his eyes at her.

“We’re not schoolkids, it’s not like we’re a clique,” she smiled patiently, like she had when team RWBY had said the same. “It’s a job first, and the job comes first, out on the field. Sometimes tough calls have to be made, or sometimes you lose people.” She knew that one firsthand.

“Yeah. Friends don’t usually work for me anyway. It’s best when I work alone.”

“Because you’ve done so much of that recently,” she couldn’t help a grin, and the glare that he shot her was downright malevolent.

“It’s different when his semblance can protect him.” Qrow snarled defensively. There was something under that, though. Something guilty and unspoken, like there was an end to the sentence he hadn’t tacked on.

“It can do that, yes, just as mine prevents me from being knocked down, but is that really all there is? He’s a good guy, and he’s worth making a connection with.” Well, this was something of a shovel talk, so she may as well bring it full circle. In for a penny, out for a pound. “Just… don’t string him along and hurt him. His luck can’t protect him from everything.”

She reached an arm over her shoulder, patting Timber affectionately with a cheerful grin that showed one too many teeth. “And if you do hurt him, as in, maliciously, your ass is dead. No pressure, though.”

Qrow snorted. “You think you can take me on?”

“I think I’m the woman who jumped off Atlas City and walked away whistling.”

Qrow blinked at her, looking almost impressed. “Huh. I have a friend in Patch you’d probably get on well with.”

“Introduce me some time when the CCT goes up,” she chuckled. “Just do what you think is best for you. And if that’s Clover, treat him well, okay?” Because Clover kept tossing Qrow the soppiest looks when he thought no one was looking, and even last night over their weekly dinner at her place he’d talked non-stop for twenty minutes about how ‘utterly gorgeous’ Qrow apparently was.

Which, valid, she didn’t get it, but hey, it made Clover happy. That was what mattered.

Qrow was still making some grumbly squawks of what was probably denial at her, and she shrugged them off with her usual unshakeability. “Anyway, good luck~” She singsonged as she walked off, and the next words thrown at her head was definitely an insult.

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

“Robyn, something came up! Qrow and I are going to be late.” Clover’s voice rang tinnily in her ear with the sounds of combat and gunfire in the background, the earpiece hidden by her hair as it squeaked uncomfortably. She held back a wince as she walked down the alleyway, technically searching for survivors but really walking around as the perfect bait for one little scorpion, slightly homicidal.

Damn. Sure, she wanted to beat the everloving shit out of Tyrian on her own, but she knew that it was smartest to have back-up on this fight, as much as it stung her pride.

Looks like she’d just have to manage until Boy Scout and his boyfriend showed up.

She hoped they were dating, at least. She and Clover barely talked anymore, not since she made a Mistake, big capital letters. Even her ego had to concede that particular clusterfuck that had destroyed their friendship had, yes, been her fault.

Still, she recognised what Clover In Love looked like, especially his showing off. She wondered how much of his posturing out in the tundra had been to try look tough in front of her and how much of it was him posturing for that goth twunk.

While he’d not taken her hand, a fair response after everything that had gone down between them and their partnership, she couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if she’d finished her interrogation with ‘do you have a crush on someone right now’ like some teenage girl at a slumber party.

Her semblance, at least, never lied. Not the part she let herself use.

The rest? That didn’t lie either, but she wasn’t ever going to do that to someone again.

She wondered if the caped Huntsman with the hobo scruff knew how lucky he was. Clover was at heart a genuinely decent person, dumbass goody-two-shoes need to follow the rules aside, and his loyalty to Ironwood had actually turned out to be founded in common sense and actual loyalty instead of blind military obedience.

She wondered where his boyfriend stood on the whole Salem matter. Did he know too?

Well, he fucking did now.

She walked along, forcing herself not to look up at the rooftops of the alley around her. She was believed to be a main target for Tyrian, because of her ties to Mantle and especially the fact that she was alone now.

Tyrian was a predator, apparently. He’d want to skew things in his favour, and he probably thought a little bird all on her lonesome would be such an easy hit.

Robyn’s lips twisted into a vulpine smile, teeth flashing. Careful, Callows, this little birdy had fangs.

She heard boots land on the ground behind her and whipped around, her crossbow up and a bolt nocked and loaded. Tyrian Callows stood behind her, a mechanical stinger weaving almost playfully through the air behind him. He spread his arms in a theatrical gesture, brows furrowed with anger despite his smile.

“Robyn Hill!” He announced, crazed yellow eyes focused on her own. “You have such an impact on this city, it’s not what I would have expected from such a sweet-faced vixen like yourself.”

She loosed the bolt at his head, baring her teeth in a threat as he dodged it, an amused cast to his features. He was fast. Damnit. “If I’m so sweet then why do you want to kill me?”

Tyrian cackled at that. “I can’t have you bringing your hope and wonder everywhere you go, that just wouldn’t do!” He caught the next crossbow bolt between his fingers, faking a hurt look. “I find it… disappointing.”

“Well, I’d hate to disappoint.” She shifted her weight, ready to move the second he came at her. She missed her longbow. She would have liked to use it to beat him to death. Maybe Clover could steal it back from the military for her, if he wasn’t busy mooning over that scruffy weirdo.

Tyrian snapped the crossbow bolt in his hand. “Oh I know, my dear vixen. Are you waiting for your dearest friends to arrive?”

Robyn shifted uncomfortably at the possessive undertone to his nickname for her, her crossbow ready. Catch this one, bitch, go on. “So you figured it out.” That apparently wasn’t the only thing he figured out either. Fuck.

“Do you think I’m a fool?” He laughed, pressing a hand to his chest. “Why, Robyn dearest, I’m hurt! No, the pretty bird and his kingfisher got held up by the General’s own bots. The good Doctor made sure of it.”

That explained the gunshots. “Guess I’ll just have to beat you myself then, Callows.”

His chuckles faded into a wicked smirk, his eyes glowing purple for a moment as his blades extended on his wrists, shaped like a scorpion’s pincers. “You missed my blades at your rally, but worry not. You will never escape me now, my dear.”

He charged at her, laughing as he blocked every bolt she shot. He slashed at her and she jumped, her boot landing on his head as she used him as a stepping stone before she landed in a combat roll.

Her next crossbow bolt was knocked aside by his tail as he turned to face her, smile plastered on his face. She set her jaw in determination, lavender eyes hard as steel. Clover and his boyfriend better hurry the fuck up.

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

Clover tied up a bunch of Atlas bots, leaving them stuck for Harbinger to slash through them like butter. He looked around for any others and let out a breath he’d been holding when he saw no more.

“Qrow, come on, we have to go.” Robyn was fighting Tyrian alone and like hell was he going to let her do that alone. She was good, but from what Qrow said, Callows was better.

Qrow pulled his scythe from a bot and nodded, following him along. “You think they figured out she was bait?”

“I’ll bet.” He flung Kingfisher at a rooftop and reeled himself up, aiming to use them to get the drop on Tyrian. “That’s likely where the robots came from.”

He missed Qrow’s mutter of ‘just like Beacon’ as he aimed for where Robyn was meant to be, trusting that Qrow would be hot on his heels. They worked well together. Trust was a logical conclusion.

That was what he told himself but according to Elm he was not subtle nor did he have any intent to be. He liked Qrow, quite a lot, and he was fine with that.

Also he was going to take that moment where Qrow made a luck joke to him earlier this evening and run with it because that was a potentially very good sign.

A good sign that he could think about later, as he heard the sounds of a fight up ahead, filtering up the top of an alley into the Mantle air, and sped up.

He skidded to a stop at the rooftop in time to watch Robyn land a vicious hook into Tyrian’s face, knocking him back just enough for her to wind up for a kick to his crotch. Tyrian’s tail hooked around her foot, before his hand glowed with a strange purple light.

Clover tossed Kingfisher’s reel down to snag on his wrist, yanking his hand out of the way as Robyn rallied and tossed a punch into his throat. Faster then even Clover could react, his other hand skated across her arm with that same purple energy, her lavender aura shattering to pieces as the stinger wrapped around her leg constricted.

He heard the sound of cracking bone all the way from the top of the building, saw the tip of the stinger extend, and yanked with all the force he could manage to get the bastard away from his old partner.

He saw a blur of red and brown-grey drop past him before Qrow’s heel hit hard against the side of Tyrian’s head, Tyrian’s tail flicking to toss Robyn against the wall before he turned all his attention to the new player in the arena.

Clover jumped down, taking one glance at Qrow to judge the situation. Qrow’s gorgeous red eyes locked on his as the other Huntsman gave him a smirk, before turning his attention to Tyrian with a dangerous growl. “Miss me, Callows?”

Clover tuned out Tyrian’s gleeful response as he ran over to Robyn and crouched, looking her over for damages. The impact against the brick wall at the end there had caused her hair to fall loose from her usual ponytail, much more like the flyaway mess he recognised from Academy days. “Robyn, status report.”

“You’re late,” she grinned toothily at him, sitting up. Her long coat was missing, likely shredded in the fight if the tattered fabric on the ground was any indicator. Her left leg moved with the motion and she winced a bit, looking at the damage. “I’m fine, go help your boyfriend.”

He decided not to even bother telling her Qrow wasn’t his boyfriend as right now they were on a timer. “I have a small field kit, let me see your ankle first and if he stung you, then I’ll go beat his face in.”

“Fighting for my honour now, Biceps?” She chuckled, blowing her hair out of her eyes.

“Who says it’s for you?” He paused when he noticed a skinny red tail, tipped with white, poking out of a cut in her trousers, thin and limp and raggedy looking. “You shaved it?”

She shrugged at him, looking a little wistful about it. “Faunus don’t run for politics, Clover. Half of Mantle still hates them. If I want to make real change, it had to be done.”

“I know, Robert.” He nodded and focused on getting the supplies, rolling up her pant leg and whistling at the damage. The skin was already darkening with a ring of bruises, her shin noticeably caved in. The puncture wound was just under her knee, sluggishly leaking a mixture of violet and red.

He heard her swear when she saw it herself and then she spat out a filthy curse when he gave it a small prod. “It’s fucking broken, don’t touch it, dumbass!”

“Do you want to do your own field dressings? Because I’ll let you,” he snarked at her, tossing a glance over to where Qrow was using Harbinger as a reversed blade, curved around his forearm, almost like he was holding a tonfa, and used it to block Tyrian’s blades.

“Just hurry up and splint it and shit.” Robyn gritted her teeth. “Distract me by telling me how long you’ve been dating five o’clock shadow.”

“We aren’t dating.” Yet, he added to himself.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me. Clover, what the fuck.”

“I’m working on asking him out.” He splinted her leg and she let out a sharp bark, the sound catching Tyrian’s attention. He charged at them before Qrow’s hand landed on his stinger tail, right under his telson, and yanked him back into their fight.

“Do it now, right now, after you beat that sicko, or else I’m telling him about the Haddock Incident.”

“Don’t you dare, Robert,” he dressed her sting and sat her against the wall. “Call a medic and a prison transport, we’re taking him in.”

Robyn grinned and raised her crossbow. “I got one arrow left, just for him. We’ll see him smile after that.”

“I’ll make sure you get the shot,” he knocked his knuckles against hers, careful not to touch the bare skin of her index finger. Some wounds went deep.

He pulled Kingfisher from his belt and cast the line forward, catching it on Tyrian’s tail as he yanked him back long enough for Qrow to land an uppercut and a shotgun blast right to his midsection.

Tyrian glared darkly at him, face twisted in a snarl as his eyes glowed like stars in the dark. Clover only had eyes for the genuine smile Qrow shot him, tinged with adrenaline and full of trust. He met that gaze with confidence, resolution setting in the furrow of his brow. Time to end this.

“Tyrian Callows, you’re under arrest.”

--------

I’m partial to Fox Faunus! Robyn, yes.

#Fair Game #fairgameweek2020 #Clover Ebi #Qrow Branwen #rwby #Also Elm and Robyn are here and they have OPINIONS on Clover's love life #Tyrian's here as an overdramatic punching bag #my writings

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disaster-by-chance · 5 years ago

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Okay, okay, I think I'm finally going to address Clover's death.

I know a lot of people had mixed feelings towards Clover and that a lot of people had upset feelings about his death, but I just wanna put my own opinions on it out here for all y'all.

Clover Thoughts:

At first, I wasn't too sure what to think about Clover. I wanted to like him and his team, I really did. I always get excited when cool new characters are introduced and these guys were no exception. However, since I didn't know them well and they all seemed really cocky, I couldn't help but think that they were going to be traitors or something. I bought into the Clover is a traitor theories, despite me being really interested in his character.

For me,, when someone like Clover comes along, big, confident, strong, I immediately latch onto them. There's just something so intriguing about those kinds of people that just draws me in. So I couldn't resist him. But I also didn't trust him.

Time went on and slowly I began to trust him. He really hadn't shown any warning signs or hinted at betrayal, so I started to step away from the traitor theories. I did have a nightmare in where Clover did turn and it destroyed some of the trust I had built up,, but we don't talk about that.

Okay, I liked Clover. I genuinely did. I know some fans didn't care too much for him or they just didn't like him at all, but I did. I thought he was an interesting character and I was excited to see how he and Qrow's relationship (not necessarily romantically) would play out. I just wanted luck puns

I think part of me liking Clover is just that he was nice to Qrow. He was different in his actions to him and that kinda helped Qrow with his journey to recovery. If it wasn't obvious, Qrow is my favorite character from RWBY. I'm just naturally drawn to characters who have problems and then just suddenly turn into dad figures.

So since he was nice to Qrow, I liked him. And that's just me, that's how I am. If someone's nice to me,, I just fall for them instantly. You have my never ending loyalty. Clover had my loyalty.

Soon Clover played a bigger part in how I lived life. I started to want to be more like him, more positive, more uplifting, and all that crap. I spent a week giving my siblings compliments and it freaked them out. Clover's character made me want to be better. Hell, we don't know how much Clover knew about Qrow before James paired them up. He was just nice for the sake of being nice. What was he going to get out of it? He just saw that Qrow needed a friend, Qrow needed to get better, and so he helped. And gods,, that really did motivate me.

His clover became a helpful symbol for me. I made a little paper cut out to put in my phone case for some good luck. Then I made a wallpaper of the pin for my digital watch face as a reminder to be better. And last Saturday I made a keychain to have with me at all times. A reminder to be better about things. More positive.

I guess you could say he was something of a role model to me? And I know that's ridiculous after what he did and seeing as he wasn't here for long,, but damn...I really did like him.

I don't know. I just really liked him and wish I knew more about his past and semblance. I wish his story could've been explored more and stuff but...Things didn't quite work out that way.

The Fight:

I was,, disappointed to say the least. And at this point, I don't even know why I expect anything from any creator.

Look, I'm in the Marvel and Star Wars fandoms so I've had my fair (haha) share of bad characterization, bad arcs, and bad writing. But I thought RWBY was different and better than that.

I spent most of the scenes when they were fighting in anger. Tyrian was their target. He was more of a priority. They should've acted like civilized huntsman. But no.

And I get it, Clover had to do his job. They were all under stress and the atmosphere was really tense, I understand. But really?

I'm glad Qrow attempted to talk things out, but then, y'know...That didn't work out well in the end.

After the plane crash, I was devastated. I hated seeing the two fight against each other after seeing them work so well together in capturing Tyrian, and it just sucked.

I kept telling them to just talk it out, and in between the fighting they kinda did, but it just hurt. The hurt in Qrow's voice? Ugh. So good.

The teamup?? I get it. Qrow doesn't want to fight both of them, but why not turn into a bird and fly away? Or would that not work? I don't know..Anything else would've been nice.

Still hated these fight scenes. Even if the choreography was really good.

His Death Thoughts:

If you didn't buy into the traitor theory, then you had the death theory. That either him or someone from the Ace Ops was going to kick the bucket. And if you were like me, you believed both were possible.

When I was unsure about Clover, I also bought into the death theories. I didn't really want him to die, but I knew that it could happen, but I thought it would be later on. Other times I found it very possible that both would happen. And they fucking did.

At this point, I had totally forgotten about the death theories. I loved Clover too much to believe in that kind of shit. So when it happened, it hit me like a bus.

I was in utter shock and I don't think I started crying till later. After the video ended,, I just slammed my laptop shut and sobbed for a good ten minutes.

It was probably the most brutal thing I'd ever seen and just,, it hurt so much. Emotionally and physically. It just sucked..

I was upset because I knew he wasn't coming back from this. It was a huge wound. I was upset because I loved Clover. Stop killing my favorites. I was upset because it could've been avoided. And I was upset because what was the point other than for Qrangst?

I'm going to be honest, the scene did make me a little sick. And for the rest of the day I just had a terrible feeling in my stomach and that night I had a nightmare because of all the stress and pain I was feeling over the death.

So, yeah. It really did affect me and I hated the whole thing a lot. Not from a shipping point of view or anything, but because I liked Clover and because I want just a little more Qrangst, not a lot.

Throughout the week though, my brain has tried to both hurt and try to comfort me over my loss. Constantly the scene of him being stabbed replays in my mind and then everything goes greyscale before a kazoo verison of "Piano Man" starts to play. It's ridiculous and I hate my brain for thinking about it.

But the death did make me feel a lot of things. None that which were positive emotions.

Fan Response:

Okay, I love being in a fandom. I do. But with every fandom comes toxicity and RWBY is no exception. We probably have some of the worst cases of toxic fans, right next to Star Wars and Marvel.

I acknowledge that it feels like queerbaiting and BYGs,, but I just,, I don't know.

I think death threats are terrible. There's no reason for this. It's a fucking ship. Representation is great, I know. I'm a biracial bisexual, I live for representation. Nothing was explicitly said (i.e Clover flat out saying that he was gay or bi or pan,, ect)

Were they flirting? Maybe. Did things happen off screen that we didn't get to see? Likely. Yeah, they had their gay moments but Clover's trying to get Qrow to loosen up. He wants him to crack jokes with him and stuff. Y'all gotta be friends first before any sort of romantic relationships blossom.

Yes, shame on CRWBY for hyping Fairgame up and then literally killing it, but the need for death threats?? Quitting the show?? Ridiculous! They're real life humans who enjoy working on this show! Leave them be!

Look, every fandom has a moment in where their fans are left disappointed. They can't please everyone but they try their best and I think CRWBY is one example.

I'm a multishipper. I don't care who ends up with who, so long as they're happy. And so since one guy is dead and the other is probably broken by it,, you can say I'm upset too.

Am I sending death threats? No. Do I feel for Fairgame shippers. Yes. Will I quit watching the show? Of course fucking not. Am I hoping Clover comes back? 🤡 It's not that complicated.

So yeah. Those are my thoughts on the major controversies that came out of the last episode. Let me know what y'all thought.

And please. Be respectful.

It's what Monty would want.

#rwby #qrow branwen #rwby spoilers #clover ebi #rwby7 #rwby vol7 #rwbyv7 #fair game #rwby discussion #lucky charms #opinions #clown activity

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konako · 5 years ago

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wasted potential sounds like an amazing Ruby Lucas rant 😏 just give me some red content I miss her sm

LETS GO

It’s like THEY VERY WELL KNEW THAT RUBY WOULD SOLVE A TON OF PROBLEMS IF USED CORRECTLY, so they chose to conveniently forget about her, so they could be forced to come up with ridiculous alternatives for the plot!!

Ruby as a Detective Deputy?

Brilliant. Even dormant, her wolf was there, in her senses, in her temper, in her speed, in her energy. She found a heart buried inside a chest near a river – by smell alone. She didn’t know it, but she smelt it. She found David in the woods – by listening to his breathing. Again, without even knowing it. Her partying persona was her wolf energy going unused. Her desire for adventure was her wolf longing to run free. She was a werewolf still, she had just forgotten about it.

Now imagine THIS IN LAW ENFORCEMENT:Foot pursuit? Pfft. Please. In a few feet, she caught the guy. Folks in this town are so slow, doctors should look into that.Tackling big broad men? Surprisingly easy. They just drop like empty bags. Iron deficiency in mass, perhaps…Hand to hand combat? Who knew flipping over your head could be so effortless? There is training for that? Uh?Searching for clues? People have a problem with that? Why don’t they just follow the very strong, very noticeable scent to the hidden murder weapon that is practically drenched in the culprit’s smell? Duh!

They couldn’t have that advantage, or the plot would have very little actual obstacles, so……… RUBY? WHO’S THAT?

Red being properly utilized in the War against The Evil Queen?

Yeah, we got a few glimpses of what she could do, and what she did do in that era, but they couldn’t use her too much, or the conflict would… not be?

So, okay, she can turn and kill armies very easily, check. She can search and spy and survey, check. She can sneak up inside Regina’s castle and kill her men– but let’s not have too much of that. Let’s not have Regina acknowledge that foe, or we would have to, I don’t know, have the Evil Queen envying Snow White’s wolf companion. (REAL WOLF COMPANION, not that imitation of a wolf she has with the Huntsman, just pretending to be the real thing and disappointing her kink passion) Yet another thing Snow White has that the Evil Queen only wished she could have. A real wolf, by her side, helping her, fighting for her.

Plus, having The Evil Queen realize Red’s potential against her could lead to Regina finding another beast to rival the werewolf, so she could be matched and even out the fight again. She could find another werewolf, from the pack Red broke apart?? She could find an ogre, the yaoguai, a werewolf hunter, a warrior in need of some work (maybe named mulan, idk). She could find herself a worthy sidekick to bear some of the brunt of Red’s attacks, so she could focus on Snow properly. But that would mean they would have to upgrade Red from a side character to an actual player with motivations, fears, enemies of her own. Too much work! Let’s have Jekyll and Hyde there for no reason at all maybe.

Ruby being in control of her powers and using them with full intent to save the day?

Again, experimented with, in the Frankenstein episode in season two. But, oooooh, fuck, we can’t have that! Shit, that stupid plot twist of Whale running from the hospital lasted for like 5 seconds, was solved in 2 and had NO real impact in the bigger story – IF RUBY SOLVES ALL OF OUR SHALLOW INCONSEQUENTIAL PROBLEMS, what damp piece of toilet paper will we call a script? A plot??? We can’t have that.

We need our fairytale errands to take an epic proportion, waste 70% of our run time and pretend to be a bigger problem than they are, so we can have what the kids are calling… what was it? oh, Drama! Yes!

If we misplace this Macguffin in the town and have a werewolf sniff it out in an hour, WHAT STORY WILL WE TELL? A REAL ONE? No, hear me out: Regina has gone missing, so we have to have Snow squirting this weird ass oracle juice in her eye to see through Regina’s eyes to find her – and she should go to outrageous lengths to find this all-seeing spit– THAT’S PLOT. We have it. Found it. Amazing plot. – What do you mean, her very best friend is a werewolf with incredible senses that by this point has Regina’s scent engraved in her mind (because of the hate sex in the previous season, but we won’t get into that)?? NO! ORACLE JUICE! MAGIC SQUIRT! NO WOLF.

Oh man, it sure is hard to have this character… Supernatural senses, speed, strength, stamina… that neutralizes like… 80% of our everyday obstacles. Maybe we should go for the emotional, interpersonal conflicts. That will guarantee she won’t be able to solve it, right? Right…..?

Ruby as the emotional support friend, the loyal companion, the charitable

Shit. Oh SHIT!

Snow killed Regina’s mother on impulse and is now in a deep depression over the consequences, both to Regina and to her soul. She’s struggling with the taking of a life, with the blood on her hands, with the sacrifices she’s had to made to defeat the greater evil?

What do you mean, Ruby lived through all of that and could offer her precious council, comfort, company? Ah, fuck. Does that mean we have to acknowledge Ruby’s story as well? Do you mean we have to have her as an actual character, as she helps Snow through this tough time, and they share their fears and explore their dynamic, as they finally switch roles and now Snow is the one drowning in guilt and Ruby is the one grounded? F u c k.

Regina and Red have eerily similar stories? Killed mother without meaning to, death of first boyfriend in their arms being the turning for from her previous life, a hint of darkness always swirling in their hearts and minds, a concerning ease in causing harm, an inner conflict fueled by an unsatisfied desire for freedom and the shackles of other’s expectations? And the critical difference that ultimately led them to opposite paths: a loving and accepting friend/family. Red and Regina as equals in origin, but opposite extremes in the present? Whoa, that’s too heavy. That’s some deep shit right there. That could make a serious storyline, a solid relationship of frenemies, to friends, to………………….. lovers?

That’s too dangerous. We can’t have people thinking OUAT is for philosophical shit!! What’s that, a sociological take on my evil vs. good story?? Complex character dynamics and layered personalities interacting in the full scope of a human relationship???? GET OUT OF HERE WITH THIS GAY SHIT. GIVE ME A MUSICAL EPISODE INSTEAD.

Ruby is a powerhouse of a character, it’s decided. She threatens our easy (while mind-numbingly convoluted) narrative. Let’s leave her by the road, like a proper unwanted dog.

Let’s her take a mysterious trip to FTL and blame it on Storybrooke’s overwhelming heterosexual demographic and her raging bisexuality her being the only werewolf in town, despite every other stupid type of creature populating every square inch of this hell. And not feeling comfortable there. Okay. That’ll do.

People won’t ask too many questions. Who care about Ruby anyway???

Phew. Solved it.

Bullet: dodged!

Pats on the back. Good management, good writing, good everything, OUAT. We did it. We did a writing. We write good. Where is our Emmy.

*sigh*.

just….. *sigh*.

#ruby lucas #once upon a time #Anonymous

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bleached-d-soul · 5 years ago

Text

Team ALAB: Home Sweet Home

Part 2 of Team ALAB commissions for @the-hapless-ace

When Jaune ran away from home to enroll in Beacon, his greatest fear was failing.

Now that he managed to get in the academy, fjoin a team of badass guys and even learn how to fight from them, he thought that there were few things he would be terrified of. Bullies couldn't hurt him. His grades were more or less decent. And he even managed to kill a Grimm or two by himself now! He was living the life without fear!

Until the holidays came, that is.

Winter Solaris used to be his favorite time of the year when he was a kid. You gather up with your friends and family, eat a feast of delicious food and basically relax for the entire period of the festivities. Even the Huntsmen Academies allowed their students to take a short break and go home to their families.

It was his time to go home.

Oh Gods, home...

"My parents are going to kill me."

"Kill them first then."

"You are not helping, Mercury!"

The former assassin showed no sympathy for him as he simply flipped through the comic. Then again, considering how complicated and homicidal his relationships were, Jaune couldn't blame him. But right now it wasn't Mercury Jaune was losing head about. It was his own life. His sisters would be mad. His dad would be furious. And mom... Oh Gods, mom wouldn't be mad.

She would be just disappointed.

"You know you could always stay here in Vale, right?" Ren said as he got tired of watching Jaune pace around the room. "Many students do that."

"Really?!" He was saved, wohoo! Now that he found some peace, he had a few questions. "Why are they staying though?"

"Some don't want to. Most cannot," Ren replied simply. "The latter don't have a home to go back to, that's all."

Jaune looked at his teammates. The son of the assassin who was running away from life of abuse and pain. The former terrorist exiled from his only home. And the boy who lost everyone to a Grimm. Fuck, he was feeling like such an asshole.

"You are coming with me."

All three looked up at him, confused and lost.

"Uh, Jaune? I don't think you-"

"Nope, you are coming with me, Ren. All of you are."

"Hey leader, weren't you trying to stay away from your family?" Mercury rolled his eyes. Seriously, Jaune was an okay guy but he seemed to not have much for attention span. "If this is about us killing each other without you, don't worry. Hornhead over here will be too busy stalking his ex."

"I swear to God, Black, another joke like that and I will-"

"Nope, all of you are coming with me for holidays!" Damn his cowardice! He was going to make sure the guys didn't spend the Winter Solaris alone eating some cafeteria food! "I am not taking no for an answer."

Now, all he needed to do was convince his parents to let them stay over and-

BOOM!

Something blew up in the halls.

"Where is he?!" the loud and terrifyingly familiar voice boomed through the corridors, mitigated only by even louder cries for help by the fleeing students. "Where is Jaune Arc?!"

Oh Gods, they came for him.

"He is over there! Please, don't stomp on my ballsa-AAAAAAAH!"

With a sickening crunch and then deadly silence, the four sat watching the door in suspense.

They could hear every step made towards their room but none dared to move.

They were too terrfified to move.

The blade of an axe ripped through their door, tearing the thing into bits and pieces. And now before the young men of the team ALAB stood none other than Jasmine Arc. The former Huntress. Now the mother of eight.

"Hi sweetie!" her voice dripped with warmth and love. And anger. Gods, so much anger and bloodlust even Adam found himself uncomfortable. "I decided to drop by. See how you are doing..."

Jaune gulped as he found mom's eyes staring hollowly into his.

"... and make sure you come back home for holidays!"

Before any of them could do or say anything, the young men were on the Bullhead flying back to Everwoods, the home to the Arc family.

ALAB

Adam didn't remember much of his parents.

His earliest memory was that of a dirty cell full of the other faunus children like him. Little more than cattle in the eyes of their oppressors, the kids were sent down to mine more Dust for the Schnees, as if they were not rich and fat enough. If you slacked off, you didn't get dinner. If you didn't meet your quota, you didn't get to leave the mines until you did. And if you fought back, talked back or even looked like you were thinking something other than 'Yes, sir', you got a beating. Do any of those enough times and you disappeared.

In those conditions, it was the oldest like him that had to be the parent. The mother who could comfort the smallest and weakest. The father who would give up his own stale bread and water so that others didn't starve.

Then he joined the White Fang and his fight was no longer about keeping the kids in cells fed and protected. Now he was taking them out of those cages. No matter where they went, the kids they saved from the labor camps were always the same: starving, scared and silent.

He never had a place to call home. His hoke was whichever base White Fang was situated in. The sands of Vacuo or harsh snow valleys of Atlas, none of it mattered as long as he could set another Faunus free. He never understood people who held any warmth for something as small and frail as a house.

"Waaaaaaah!"

"Shhh, Adrian, mommy is here!"

"Hey, Rouge, where did you put my book?"

"I didn't touch anything!"

"Mooom, I think the pie is burning!"

Which is why he was still unsure what he was feeling in this place. The Arc house was quite big and nice, though hardly large enough for the family of nine. It was somewhat old too. Yet none of the family seemed to mind.

There was laughter. There were jokes. Nothing so out of the ordinary and yet... Yet there was something that Adam still couldn't put his finger on. Was it the smell of all homemade food? Perhaps it was due to his increased senses that he-

"Ren, I have a problem."

"What is it?"

"There is a small child clinging to my leg." Adam pointed at the toddler who looked at him, eyes bright with some weird awe. "I think he might see me as as a threat."

"CA!"

"What is he saying?" Adam whispered as he picked the little one up. He seemed not to mind his mask, which was good enough. He would hate to remove it and get unnecessary questions asked.

"CA!"

What did that mean?

"Uh, I think he likes your horns?" Ren guessed as Adrian touched said protrusions. Did he really? Well, it was certainly a surprise. Back when he was a kid, the wardens used to push him around using his horns as one of the main targets for their verbal abuse. Why, they even called him a cow-

"MOOOOO!"

...

"Adam, are you okay? You are, uh, shaking..."

...

"Maybe I should take Adrien back to Saphron."

...

Mooo? Fucking Mooo?

"I AM NOT A DAMN COW FAUNUS!"

The room erupted in laughter. But not the kind Adam used to hear. There was no mockery or spite. Or fear and disgust. They weren't even laughing at him as much as his reaction. And somehow... Somehow he couldn't help but laugh too. Not like the brat and the sisters. Like he always did, quiet and reserved.

But a laugh nonetheless.

Adam never celebrated any holidays. Had no time. Had no desire. Why celebrate the moments of peace when his kind was still at war?

But maybe... Maybe these things weren't so bad, after all.

ALAB

Well, Adam was pissed. Which counted as good in Mercury's book.

Also, he was training with Jaune's dad, Alder. Which was pretty badass.

"You are good for your age, old man," Mercury smirked. "Too bad I am better."

"Are you sure?" and just like that, Mercury fell onto the ground, suddenly winded. What the hell? "My Semblance is called Drain. Within a certain range, it makes all the people I see slowly use up more of their stamina and Aura. Honestly, I am surprised you lasted this long. You have really good control over your body. Not something you see in a lot of young huntsmen."

Well, he wasn't the most huntsmen, was he now?

"Let's just say I didn't have a choice on that."

He didn't have the Semblance. He used to but now it was stolen, gone along with the asshole that took it from him. A part of him told him that he was crying over nothing. Without his Semblance, he was pushed to become the most vicious and efficient fighter he could be. His speed and strength were the fruits of his own work.

And hey, it was a small price to pay for his bastard dad's death.

"I am really glad my son met you guys."

Huh? "It was mostly an accident," Literally, in fact. "That crazy headmaster launched us all into the forest with a freaking catapult."

Seriously, he could have them jump off the Bullhead or something. But nooo, somehow that old psycho decided that launching them off like some paper planes was a better use of Beacon money.

"Still, I doubt Jaune would make it without you and the rest of the team," Alder said as he took a sip of his beer. Mercury wasn't quite sure why but he took a step back. No, forget that. He knew exactly why he put some distance between the two. And he hated himself for it. Hated how much power his old man had over him even now that he was dead. "You know, you are strong, Mercury."

He knew that. He had to be.

"Thanks, I guess."

"And you don't have to be a huntsman to prove it."

At that, Mercury looked at the man confused. What was that supposed to mean?

"I don't know what it is that happened to you in the past, not my place or right to pry. But I can tell from our little spar that you hate this strength you have. I can tell that you are not fighting because you decided to."

The man looked him dead in the eyes.

"You fight because you think this is the only thing you are good for."

Mercury sat silent, refusing to meet the man's eyes. What else was he good for? Dad never taught him anything beyond the simplest basics. How to write, read and count and that's it. The rest of the time was spent beating the fighting techniques into his skull. It's not like he could become an accountant or something now. At least being a huntsman would let him get his own money for whatever he wanted.

"I became a huntsman for much the same reason."

Huh?

"I thought you were some kind of town hero," Mercury could still remember all the annoying rumblings of how his dad joined Beacon to protect his home after graduating. "The whole White Knight routine and all that."

"That's only half the truth, unfortunately. Didn't want my kids to know I used to be a violent and unpleasant thug," the man chuckled. "I joined Beacon because I wanted a simple life. Be strong enough to slay a Grimm or two in some major cities. Collect enough money and live the life you want. I wanted to get out of this place so much back then. Leave and never look back."

"Let me guess," Mercury rolled his eyes. "Then you found love and decided to clean up your act?"

"No, my entire team almost died on a mission because of me."

Okay... Shit.

"I was young and reckless. But more importantly, I had nothing to lose back then. An orphan without any actual friends, all I cared about was me and what I wanted," Ardel recounted with the small sad smile. "My teammates were different. Each and one of them had something to return to. A home. A family. A lover. Something that made them so desperate to survive that they beat the impossible odds and even saved my sorry ass."

Did he have something like that though? He had no idea where his mom went. Or if he wanted to meet the woman who left him with that monster. He had no special love for his home village either. In the end, Mercury realized that he had nothing to come back to. Nobody waiting on him.

"You are young though. And I can tell you four are good for each other. Whatever comes your way, you don't have to face it alone," Alder said as he stood up and picked up his sword. "Now then, ready for another spar?"

Mercury smirked.

"I could use some more exercise."

ALAB

"Guys, dinner is ready!"

With a loud miriad of steps, the relatively big kitchen in the house of Arcs soon had no space left. The table was breaking apart under the weight of all the food, the orchestra of mouth-watering smells teasing the hungry stomachs with the promise of delectable end of the day.

But not before the man of the house finished his speech.

Which had lasted for good twenty minutes by now.

"Is he always like that?" Adam asked, not quite irritated but still hungry and exhausted from all playing with kids.

"Only when he is drunk," Jaune admitted.

"-and finally! I am happy to welcome Adam, Mercury and Ren into our family!" Alder finished, cheeks red and stance wobbling. "You three take good care of my son! And Jaune, make sure they don't have to take care of you all the time! Now, let's eat!"

The dinner began.

The table laughed, all of them exchanging their own stories and experiences.

And come the end of the night, team ALAB found themselves growing closer.

Not just teammates.

But now members of the same family.

#rwby #jaune arc #lie ren #adam taurus #mercury black #alab au #team alab

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littlemisssquiggles · 5 years ago

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Is it me, or has Ren been purposely distant/annoyed with Nora lately. I've caught on multiple occasions (Mostly CH 1,3,4 and now 5) where Nora will do something and Ren will ignore it, shake his head at her, or just bluntly call her out. It seems to me that RT might be setting up a possible conflict with Renora where Ren might actually snap at Nora for not taking something seriously and be all "Why cant you take anything serious?!" I'm very curious about this--What do you think?

Hmm…well to be fair anon-chan; while seeing Ren flat out turn down Nora’s compliment about his new outfit, much to her disappointment, was annoying to see as a Renora-shipper, outside of that, Ren’s behaviour with Nora doesn’t seem that much different. At least to me.

We’ve seen Ren make dry remarks in response to Nora’s animated outbursts in the past. But for the most part Ren has always been quite patient with Nora; allowing her to be as loud and outspoken as she wants to be and a part of me would like to think that Ren’s unyielding patience with Nora stems from their time surviving on their own together particularly the night Ren protected Nora from the Nevermore.

Nora used to be so scared and soft spoken when we first saw her as a little girl back during the Kunoyuri episode. It’s almost hard to believe she evolved into the exuberant young woman we know her to be. And I think part of that is due inpart to Ren always encouraging her to be that way with him.

The only times Ren’s sudden change in behaviour toward Nora stood out to me the most was in V7CH1 where Ren took off in combat without Nora, much to her clear annoyance and of course their moment in CH3.

Since Ren was seen being trained personally by Elm (and getting his ass clobbered) in V7CH5, I’m curious to know if this will become a routine thing for him.

Constantly training, particularly with Elm as part of his regiment when he isn’t on mission or doing team training with Nora, Jaune and perhaps Oscar too from time to time.

Though that montage with Ren and Elm was short, it was enough for me to take note of it. Why? Because it ties into my theory for Ren’s strange behaviour for this season. As I once told another anon-ninja, I chucked up Ren’s sudden distance of Nora as his way of giving himself some space so that he can grow stronger as a fighter and huntsmen.

Despite starting off as a seemingly weak-minded, scared little girl, Nora has evolved into a powerhouse. She’s definitely become a stronger person than she was before when she met Ren.

So much so that my idea was that Ren must’ve compared himself to Nora and Jaune and realized that he may be the weakest link within his team. Nora has always been a raging force of nature not to be messed with while Jaune himself has shown immense improvement over the seasons.He’s been especially impressive for this season so far.

Of the JNR trio, Ren is the one to have grown the least in terms of battle prowess. I remember how quickly he would get winded out in a fight after using his aura. Not to mention that another habit I’ve noticed of Ren in the line of combat is getting himself knocked out too easily during a fight and needing Nora to come save him.

It happened back in V1 when Ren jumped on the Death stalker’s back and got himself flung into a pillar leading to Nora coming in to avenge him alongside Pyrhha and Jaune in their first team fight when JNPR was forged.

It happened back in V2 when Yang knocked him down during the RWBY vs JNPR food fight leading to Nora tagging herself in for him.

It happened in V3 during the JNPR vs BRNZ fight at the Vytal Festival where Ren got taken out by Nolan leading to Nora coming to his defence once again.

It happened back in V4 when he nearly got himself killed by the Nuckelavee if Nora hadn’t intervened.

It happened in V5 when Hazel took him out, leading to Nora to come to his rescue and send the Juggernaut flying straight through the front door.

It even happened again in V6 with Ren getting himself taken away by Cordovin leading Nora to fire after the mechazord to get him back. Not to mention that Ren’s stunt left him unable to help defend and/or protect the rest of his team on the ground.

So yeah, as you can tell by my recap, Ren doesn’t do so hot defending himself on the battlefield despite being a competent fight. Nora coming to his aid all the time really has become a glaring habit.

Though the PLOT hasn’t given me much proof to this, I’m going to go out on a limb and say that Ren has probably done some self-assessment within recent times and has now made up his mind while the group is in Atlas to strive to improve himself and get stronger, not just for himself but for his teammates, especially Nora.

Now that I think about it, Neon’s quick jab at Ren during the JN(P)R vs FNKI battle from V7CH5 could be used as further justification for my theory:

“…Wow, your boyfriend’s actually holding his own.”

Neon saying that reaffirms my earlier point about how much Ren fumbles in a fight on his own. And I think that’s the reason for his current mood.

While I do think you might ultimately be correct too in the PLOT setting up a potential fight or tension between our favourite Flower Power pair, for me I feel it has less to do with Nora not being able to take things seriously and more on Ren needing to get stronger. Or hey, maybe both of our theories are correct?

What would make this even more interesting is if Ren’s sudden desire to become stronger ties into what he and everyone recently learnt regarding Salem.

It would be cool if the whole truth about Salem has secretly been weighing on Ren since Argus and it just occurred to him that if any of them were to attempt to go up against the Wicked Witch—even without her immortality, Ren wouldn’t stand a chance against Salem. He wouldn’t even be able to hold her back in his current shape.

Perhaps…this might even force Ren to think back to the RNJR encounter with Tyrian Callows back in V4 and remember how useless he made himself appear up against a formidable opponent like that who proclaimed himself as a servant of Salem.

If Ren couldn’t even hold his own against one of Salem’s forces then how can he even call himself a warrior? Shoot, he didn’t even stand a chance against Hazel---another confirmed member of Salem’s forces.

How was he supposed to defend himself against them, let alone his friends? Let alone his girlfriend and closest companion.

And Ren taking the upcoming fight against Salem moreseriously while Nora isn’t could tie into your hunch regarding his frustration over Nora’s nonchalance? Who knows? It’s another idea for the table of possibilities.

All this being said, a part of me is really hoping for a prospective JNPR 2.0-centric episode for V7.

I want to know what their thoughts on Ruby’s actions in V7CH2 were like. Thus far we have only covered what RWBY thinks with Weiss, Blake and Yang basically playing follow the leader and siding with Ruby. However we don’t know how Jaune, Ren and Nora took the news. We haven’t seen them antagonize Ruby or any of the RWBY girls at all.

One the contrary, JNR behave just as normally as they ever did with RWBY which says they’re fine with the way things are for now.

I find that to be a little odd given how strongly JNR reacted to the truth about Salem back in V6CH8. Perhaps their all hiding their true thoughts for the sake of friendship with Ruby and Team RWBY.

But I wonder how JNR will think about the matter once they hear it from the perspective of someone who doesn’t share in Ruby’s approach—another smaller, more honest soul who the trio have gradually been growing closer to.

It’d be interesting if we got Oscar approaching JNR for support with him possibly going forward and unveiling the truth to Ironwood. Or at least back him up when confronting Ruby again on the subject.

For me, I mostly want an episode that focuses on Ren and Nora confronting the growing strain in their relationship while potentially leading into a discussion of their past together but from Nora’s point of view this time.

I also wish for an episode like this to show Oscar conflicted on the right approach while confiding in Jaune.

@megashadowdragon shared with me their theory on Jaune telling Oscar about the time he forged his admission papers to get into Beacon Academy. I can see Jaune talking to Oscar in regards to his feelings while using himself as an example in morality.

I have a strong feeling that this WILL surely happen down the line. While we got a teaser of Oscar training with Ironwood in CH5, it is to be noted that Oscar’s training was assigned to help him jog Oz out of his mind.

Though things are reasonably friendly between Oscar and Ironwood at the moment, it wouldn’t surprise if down the line James starts to grow wary when he acknowledges that the training regimen hasn’t been successful in bringing Oz back.

While it’s definitely assisted in Oscar’s improvement as a huntsman, as I said, the purpose of the training was to bring back Oz. So if nothing happens in that regard, James will start to get suspicious. He might even start to probe Oscar for more information on his current predicament which could potentially poke holes in Ruby’s swish cheese of an alibi from V7CH2.

Perhaps…even the talk of aura experiments will finally be brought up from this. Imagine if…Ironwood eventually makes the proposition for Oscar to allow Atlas to run tests on his aura as another alternative to forcing Oz to return…unless Oscar gives him a valid reason while he shouldn’t let him undergo experimentation—meaning the truth.

Perhaps…it’ll be a case where Oscar becomes frightened regarding the thought of undergoing experimentation. It’s basically a prospect where Ironwood has unknowingly backed Oscar into a corner based on Ruby’s lie; so to speak. So either the truth comes out or…Oscar gets experimented on for no reason?

And we all know how nice those Atlesian Aura Experiments go for their subjects, right? I know Jaune certainly remembers how great it was for Pyrhha back in V3.

I dunno. I’m only bringing this concept up since I’m curious to know when the PLOT will reintroduce Atlas’ experimental aura technology and research that was revealed back in V3. I still have a feeling that’s going to come back somehow. Either it’ll be part of Oscar’s story for V7 or be savoured for the subplot with our revealed Winter Maiden: Fria.

As an alternative, Oscar could just eventually start to feel pressured by keeping the truth from the General, seeing how kind he and his lieutenants have been to him and the others.

Oscar becomes conflicted on what the right thing to do should be. He knows that the Relic of Knowledge is in his possession since Ruby trusted it with him. But at the same time, the little barn prince is also fully aware that one question still remains with the lamp—a question that could be used to unveil the whole truth to Ironwood. The problem is will Ruby want to do that?

Oh! What if…we got a JNPR parallel to RWBY in V7CH2 where Oscar confides in JNR that he wishes to reveal the truth to Ironwood using the Relic of Knowledge but is conflicted about it? One of the JNR members then prompts Oscar with the question on whether he spoke to Ruby regarding his decision.

This now brings me to my Pinehead headcanon where Ruby and Oscar meet alone and get into one big argument over their differing sentiments on trusting Ironwood with the whole truth.

In the end, Oscar begrudgingly returns the Relic to Ruby before parting ways with her implying that he was going to leave the team because of her; or something to that liking.

My rationale for wanting a plot point like this is due to its connection to the Little Prince story where the Prince left his home planet after growing frustrated with his rose.

Since the Prince left because of his rose, I considered something like that happening with Oscar where he decides to either leave the team again or just Ruby in general out of his disappointment and frustration with her recent choice of actions and attitude towards such actions.

So the little barn prince takes himself out of the equation and abandons his little red rose, returning the Relic to her because he wasn’t prepared to be the one to do to Ruby what she did to Ozpin back in V6.

Nor did he have the heart to watch her become someone else he didn’t recognize. Or something alone those lines.

As I’ve said before, I don’t wish for Oscar to go behind Ruby’s back and tattle on her to the General. I would actually hate it if the PLOT made Oscar do that to Ruby since, I don’t think Oscar would ever do that to her. We all saw how shattered Oz was following the ordeal and I’m certain Oscar felt his pain and sadness in that moment too despite not being in control.

So forgive me if this squiggle meister just can’t fathom Oscar putting Ruby through that. In my mind, he would NEVER. Not to her.

Instead what I’m banking on is a chain reaction of events that result in Oscar convincing Ruby that coming clean about the whole truth to their Atlesian Allies about Salem is the right call so that she could reveal the truth herself.

Ruby is the one responsible for planting the group in potential hot water with James after she lied the first time; possibly on Oscar’s behalf which was admittedly bold of her since Oscar didn’t exactly ask her to do that for him.

If the truth is to be revealed, it has to come from Ruby. Heck, perhaps …she and Oscar can both tell the General the truth together since, as I said, the Rosebuds are the drivers of this subplot.

It still really bothers me how the heroes (most of them anyways) really believe that lying to James—the man confirmed to be paranoid about being betrayed by those closest to him—- is a good call especially after the events of V6.

I’m even more stunned at Qrow. Qrow knows James probably a lot better than Ruby does and after what happened with Oz back in Argus, it honestly baffles me how complacent Qrow is being about keeping the truth from James especially after he went through an ordeal where he was devastated by truth after being unaware of it for years. It just doesn’t make sense to me at all.

But going back to Ren and Nora now, as I’ll reiterate I think Ren’s behaviour is about growing stronger.

Back in V5, Ren was the one to question how the heroes were going to win the fight against Salem if she can’t be killed. That was mainly his reaction to the truth while Jaune and Nora most responded in anger.

“…If Salem can’t be killed, then how are we supposed to win this?”

Seriously, we haven’t seen such a fire in Ren’s eyes since V4 against the Nuckelavee and his whole history with the beast that killed his family and destroyed his home village. So I’m assuming his key story for V7 will be bettering himself as a warrior for the people around him and for the upcoming war with Salem and the chaos that will happen once the truth comes out to the General and the rest of Remnant.

Those are my thoughts on that for now.

~LittleMissSquiggles (2019)

#Anon-ninja #squiggles answers: rwby #lie ren #nora valkyrie #oscar pine #jaune arc #ruby rose #rwby theories #rwby volume 7 theories #rwby volume 7 spoilers

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fire-the-headcanons · 6 years ago

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Follow the Beacon Qrow—The Weak Die

[Link to Masterpost]

[TW: graphic depictions of violence, blood, death, abuse. There's a TLDR at the bottom if you want to skip the details, and move on to the next chapter.]

Qrow threw himself down behind the barricade of sandbags, curling into a ball as the buckshot exploded on impact with the tavern wall above him. His aura was able to protect him from the shrapnel, but whatever Dust rounds they were using didn’t seem like they’d be as forgiving.

As if the team of Huntsmen hadn’t been enough of a clue, the fortifications proved this town had known the raid was coming.

“Hey now, this is between you and me!” Bones’ voice rang over the shots echoing from more distant parts of the village.

A moment passed, then two, and nobody fired again. Please don’t be waiting to blow my head off. He took a deep breath and rose on his knees, peeking one eye over the sandbags.

“Then call your cronies off and leave this town alone!” the Huntress shouted, training her dual pistols on the pair. Qrow slid his shotgun almost to the top of the wall, ready to point it over and shoot, but a Huntsman was watching him with a scowl.

“My family’s gotta eat, gentlemen.” Bones didn’t budge, didn’t flinch, just calmly stared down the three trained fighters. Blood dripped slowly from the tip of his sword into the street, and his pistol hung nonthreateningly in his left hand. Vanta stood a pace behind, whip draped over her shoulders and glowing faintly with the air Dust braided into it.

“You have a lot to answer for, Bones Branwen,” the other Huntsman bore a heavy axe with one arm and a large shield with the other. “Do you remember me?” His armor sparkled through the battle grime, reflected by the dozens of little golden plates hanging from the mail he wore over his deep blue robes. There was no fear in his eyes, only steely determination as he faced down the leaders of the tribe. Like a scene from a comic book.

Why do I have to be one of the bad guys?

“Yes...” Bones sounded almost mournful. “I remember. You were just a little too late.”

“Who hired you?” the Huntsman demanded, unmoved except for the slightest tension in the hand that gripped his axe. It was a beast of a weapon—one side bore a massive blade, and the other had to be the shotgun that had nearly killed Qrow earlier.

Bones chuckled. “I hate to disappoint you, but that particular broker died years ago.”

He hissed in anger, his hands tightening further on his weapon and shield. Qrow’s eyes narrowed—he’d believed Bones without question or hesitation—was his Semblance some kind of truth discernment? It’d make him easier to face in combat.

“I imagine it must be disappointing to hear. Wasn’t personal. Just taking care of my own,” Bones said. “He was a good one, your friend. Have you been looking after his family?”

“How do you know about them?“ The Huntsman’s calm mask was cracking, he was losing control—a mistake that could turn deadly.

“His last thoughts. I don’t get too many personal details from my Semblance, just training. Survival. But that always comes through, even stronger than strategy or skill. Their last thoughts.” He looked down at the pistol in his hand. “He was afraid for them.”

“And did your broker ask about them?”

Bones grinned. “I won’t kill a man’s family for another man’s grudge. But I’ll happily collect.”

“How magnanimous.” Derision bled into his words but relief showed in his posture.

“I’ve no quarrel with you yet, Huntsman, there’s no need for them to lose another protector.”

“You’re wanted on untold counts of murder and banditry, Branwen. We’re taking you in.”

Bones grinned wider, reminiscent of a Beowolf with his red eyes and bared teeth. The Grimm-like clothing didn’t hurt either. “You know what the penalty is for banditry. Do your killing yourself.”

“We’re not going to let you hurt anyone else.”

“No. I imagine you’ll help.” Bones sighed, shaking his head as he spun his sword once and flicked more blood into the street. “I’ve never killed an axe wielder before. Should be interesting.”

To the Huntsman’s credit, he didn’t attack in anger or flee in fear. He stepped forward, cautious, even as his partners took two steps to draw even with him.

Vanta struck first. Vanta always struck first. The Dust in the cord didn’t even light up in warning, she’d kept it glowing the entire time. It flew out at the Huntsman that had been watching Qrow, light as air, curling around his legs and arms. Not tight enough to damage his aura, but more than enough to send him sprawling into the mud as it wound around him like a King Taijitu. Bones leapt forward, driving the other two back as Vanta kicked the man’s fallen weapon aside, wrenching the bindings tight.

Qrow leveled his shotgun on the sandbags, ready to give cover if they called him.

The axeman and the Huntress were good, attacking in turn to keep Bones from overwhelming one of them—they were just too outnumbered. Fighting him was like fighting every person he’d ever killed.

He ducked under her sword and leapt over his axe without even looking, striking at the crook of his elbow as he fired at the back of her knee. Aura could shield them from harm but not the full force of a blow, and they staggered another pace away from their friend. As long as they were occupied Vanta could deal with their partner.

Her aura sparked black against his yellow-green as she drained him dry. None of them must have known what she could do or they would have attacked her first. Either of the Branwen siblings alone were deadly, but together they were unstoppable. After all, Bones didn’t have to win, he only had to stall while Vanta did her work.

Bones sprang over the Huntsman’s shoulders and kicked him in the back of the neck as he landed, sending him toppling into his ally. Both of them sprawled, scrambling to collect their weapons and get their feet under them. A few feet away, the trapped man’s aura shone brighter for a moment before breaking, spilling sparks of yellow-green light into the mud.

“He’s ready!” Vanta barked, giving him a vicious kick he had no defense for.

The Huntress screamed in defiance, seizing the axe and firing the massive gun into Bones’ face.

BOOM.

He disappeared in a plume of orange fire that sent the others reeling. Slowly, the smoke cleared, leaving him to lurch back to his feet. Wine-red sparks circled his head and shoulders, his aura dwindling but not broken yet.

He smiled wolfishly again and pointed his pistol squarely at the defenseless man behind him. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

His finger tightened on the trigger—

—and the gun exploded, shattering apart like hot glass on ice. Bones seized, aura snapping and skittering away even as he collapsed face first and unmoving in the mud.

Qrow stared, the world suddenly surreal. Why was Bones on the ground?…He couldn't… He, he'd get up… The shotgun slid forward, jolting him into re-tightening his grip before it could tumble over the wall out of reach.

Vanta screamed, slamming her foot down on her captive's neck, and he died with a jerk. The others leapt back to their feet, raising their weapons, but they were drained from their fight and Vanta now had the power of two. She caught the axe with aura-augmented strength and ripped it from the woman’s grasp even as the whip wound itself around her neck.

Qrow leapt over the barricade, firing again and again as he ran at the Huntsman, buying Vanta time. The man may have lost his axe, but the large shield still hung from his other arm. His aura blocked the rest.

Still, the force drove him back. Qrow kept up the barrage, until the man’s back hit the wall of a building. Just in time, from the warmth of the shotgun’s Dust assembly under his fingertips—it could only fire so many times in a row. He leapt forward at the man’s shield, slamming him into the wall as he bashed him in the face with the iron-hot barrels of the shotgun.

He roared in pain, his aura sparking the same deep blue of his robes as it snapped, and he sank to his knees clutching his head.

Down the street, the Huntress cut off mid-scream but Qrow couldn’t spare the other fight a glance. He raised the gun again, took aim—

“You’re a child,” his enemy stammered, wide-eyed with shock.

His hand froze on the trigger.

The other man didn’t hesitate, springing forward into Qrow’s legs and knocking him to the ground. By the time he rolled to his hands and knees, the Huntsman had vanished through the building’s broken window.

The familiar hum of Raven‘s portal sang behind him, followed by stunned silence. Qrow let his head drop, unable to meet her eye.

“What happened?” she demanded, seizing his arm. “What happened to Bones?“

Qrow couldn’t answer, the image of their mentor falling replaying in his mind as he struggled to catch his breath. Her grip stiffened as she dragged him to his feet but he kept his eyes down on the road, on the filth caking his hands and clothes.

It was hard to force the words out. “…Dust leak. His gun…” He couldn’t see Raven’s horror, but the panicked clench of her hand made it clear enough.

Vanta screamed again and their grips tightened on their weapons, but she was bent over her brother, screeching fury as she clutched at the wound that killed him. Bandits were trickling out of the buildings and alleys now, the distant gunshots fading with the last of the villagers’ resistance, replaced by the tribe’s worried murmurs.

Bones and Vanta had been their shield from the Huntsmen, and now one of them was dead.

Vanta’s voice broke under the strain, petering out into a weak rasp as she tried to catch her breath. Finally, she raised her eyes from her fallen partner—and met Qrow’s.

“You.” Her voice was low and ragged, but the assembled bandits fell silent at once. “You did this. You and your damn Semblance.“

His lungs seemed to squeeze, leaving him cold and breathless as if he’d fallen through ice into a freezing river. The tribe closed ranks, pressing in without a word until they were shoulder to shoulder, circling the three of them and Bones’ body. Raven’s hand dropped from his arm.

“I told you!” Sanguin snarled, shoving his way into the ring. “I told you all the damn kid would start killing!”

Qrow’s gun rattled as a shiver ran through him. “N-no! I wouldn’t—I couldn’t—”

Vanta’s eyes were wild, her face twisted with more fury than he’d ever seen. “Traitor!“

Someone crashed into him from behind, throwing him into the mud and wrenching his sword from his grip. A foot slammed into his other hand as they tossed his shotgun aside, hands braced his arms and legs and neck. Qrow jerked, trying to pull free or curl into a ball, anything to escape—his own aura was blinding him as it held back their blows. Flickers of red hid their twisted expressions until his strength ran out.

His aura snapped with a kick to his stomach that left him gasping, but they didn’t stop until he was too dazed to even feel it anymore.

“The strong live, the weak die,” Vanta said, somewhere distant. Someone shoved him onto his side—Bones lay a few paces away, staring sightlessly back. The forest of boots started to move, and Raven’s went with them.

[TLDR: One of the Branwens' raids goes horribly awry when the villagers are ready for them. Qrow watches from behind a barricade as the tribe's leaders and best fighters, Bones and Vanta, fight the Huntsmen and Huntress that are protecting the village. Bones killed their friend years ago.

The Branwens are winning when Bones's gun explodes in his hand, breaking his aura and killing him. Vanta kills one of the Huntsmen and the Huntress. Qrow fights the Huntsman that started the fight, but hesitates to kill him and is overpowered but left alive.

Vanta publicly blames Qrow's Semblance for Bones' death. The rest of the tribe injure him badly and leave him for the Grimm. Raven does nothing to stop this and leaves with them.]

Next Chapter: Raven—The Strong Live

#rwby #roosterteeth #strq #team strq #qrow branwen #raven branwen #vanta branwen #bones branwen #my fic #follow the beacon #mine

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anhed-nia · 6 years ago

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BLOGTOBER 10/24/2018: HEREDITARY

I am not ready to talk about HEREDITARY. I tried it when it came out in June, and while I think I hit all the points that were important for mass audiences, I wasn’t really ready then either, to say what I wanted to say. It isn’t because it’s so unusually beautiful, which it is. It isn’t because it’s “the scariest movie ever made”, which it is not, although it intermittently reaches seldom-seen heights of horror. It also isn’t because, contrary to popular belief, it is deeply flawed, with certain understandable markers of being someone’s first feature. It is because it feels so profoundly personal to me, even while I know that this is a not-uncommon reaction to Ari Aster’s breakout debut. It doesn’t make me special that I would take this film about grief, guilt, mental illness, genetic disorder, and irresolvable family friction so personally, but as usual, I have something I need to say about it. My experience with the movie tells me something, not about why we need HEREDITARY, but why we need art.

(spoilers abound)

This story, about a woman who recently lost her seriously disturbed mother, and who subsequently loses her also-disturbed daughter to a car wreck caused by her teenage son, has been accused of emotional exploitation by some. HEREDITARY is aggressively harrowing, with interminably protracted suspense, teasingly dense shadows, and a constant unnatural drone that characterizes everything you see, however mundane, as malignantly abnormal. Most audiences may accept this kind of brutality when it is buffered by a fantastical metaphor, as with an EXORCIST or a SHINING. You can scare someone half to death, as long as you reassure them that whatever they’ve seen probably isn’t going to happen to them, even if it reminds them of something that did, or could. If you just make people feel bad, however, they may turn on you. This is Ari Aster’s big mistake, if you want to call it that; I know parents who refuse to watch the movie, due to its infamous scene of violence against a child. It’s easy to see why any reasonable person might want to opt out of this unusually shocking scene, in which young Milly Shapiro is accidentally decapitated while her teenage brother races her to the hospital, after having neglectfully caused her need for a hospital trip in the first place. But, I think it also calls into question the place for and purpose of the artist’s contract with the audience. This concept usually refers to the unspoken promise that a filmmaker makes to his viewers, that whatever happens in the movie, even if it is confrontational, will fall within the bounds of what the viewers basically expect when they buy their tickets. It means something like, when a family-oriented entertainment producer like Disney adapts a Grimm Brothers fairy tale, the audience won’t have to see the huntsman eviscerate an animal to get his ersatz proof that he has killed Snow White, and they won’t have to see Cinderella’s wicked stepsisters mutilate their own feet to try to fit the glass slipper. Part of the problem many people have with HEREDITARY is that Ari Aster’s contract with his audience is a little unclear. It blends psychodrama about irresolvable family issues that can hit way too close to the literal home for any ordinary person, with the unthinkable but entirely doable desecration of the human body, with outrageous supernatural horrors that, while scary as hell, can seem preposterous in light of the more terrestrial torments that have gone before.

To try to be more succinct, which is difficult with such a complex film, my own problem with HEREDITARY is that it contains metaphors for real-world elements that are already in the movie. To go back to the example of THE EXORCIST: Regan’s transformation from an innocent child into a vile self-abusing demon serves as a ready metaphor for puberty, mental illness, addiction, and really anything that turns your loved one into someone you no longer recognize. Writer Peter Blatty sets this up beautifully by using banal troubles like drafts in the house or parental antagonism as agents that weaken Regan’s defenses against the forces of darkness, just as they can weaken the average person’s defenses against depression or alcoholism--the things that warp them away from their best, or at least, most socially acceptable self. HEREDITARY gets itself into a sticky spot by giving Toni Collete a family history of emotional and physical violence, schizo-affective disorder, alienation, and neglect that is as convincing as can be, and then throwing a comparatively flimsy (however great-looking) metaphorical tarp over all that in the form of witchcraft and demonic possession. A similar problem occurs in Boots Riley’s otherwise excellent SORRY TO BOTHER YOU, where he stages the action in a world--our world, however surreally dressed up--that turns on an axis of slave labor, and then he concludes his story with an outsized metaphor for slave labor. I wouldn’t really kick anything in either of these movies out of bed, at the end of the day; I’m just saying that it gets a little awkward when you craft this grandiose metaphor for a legitimately terrifying real-world thing, while that thing happens to be standing right there in the room with the metaphor.

Anyway. It is interesting to note that while the movie seems to have hurt a lot of people’s feelings based on their own contemporary reality, its spiritual DNA has been active for hundreds of years. Witchery has been a handy metaphor for, or even out-and-out "explanation” for, mental illness in women throughout history. (Ok, so it’s been an excuse for LOTS of things that have happened to or around women throughout history, but I only have so much space!) In HEREDITARY, Toni Collette describes her recently deceased mother as being extraordinarily private, having “private rituals” and even “private friends”, which we soon realize were signs of her being a devil worshiper. However, in some ways, mother and daughter are not so different. Where the mother practiced dark arts, Collette is a successful gallery artist. Her hyperreal dioramas seem like metaphorical expressions of her feelings toward her insane and abusive parent, but as we find out along the way, they are entirely realistic descriptions of actual things that have actually happened in her life--including the notorious car crash, but also things like the mother trying to force her breast on her infant granddaughter, which we later learn was part of an effort to implant Milly Shaprio with a demon. Shapiro, who inhabits a Baba Yaga-like treehouse in the yard, is also an artist, crafting twisted-looking dolls out of refuse and carrion, and like her mother, she also has unwitting witchy inclinations, perceiving grim specters and ill omens all around. Notably, no one outside the maternal bloodline perceive these things, and it seems that male members only perceive them when being supernaturally attacked. While Toni Collete and Milly Shapiro both use handcrafted art to process the trauma handed down to them by their maternal ancestor, all three women participate (knowingly or otherwise) in an ancient artistic tradition that, for some, amounts to a legitimate religion--but for many others, especially in the modern world, it is a way of dealing with feelings of impotence and subjugation. A sense of disappointment, worthlessness, and damnation plagues the women at the center of HEREDITARY, whether it involves Toni Collette’s complaint that her family blames her for all of their misfortunes, or her accusing her teenage son Alex Wolff of failing to acknowledge his responsibility for his sister’s death, or his sister ominously remarking that her grandmother’s doting attitude disguised the matriarch’s attempts to control or deform her--”She wanted me to be a boy,” Shapiro mutters, and we’ll find out she specifically wanted the child to be a boy vessel for a boy demon (about which, more later). HEREDITARY depicts a family out of control, who cannot escape the fate that has been devised for them, but who have adopted some interesting, literally artful means of trying to synthesize feelings of power.

HEREDITARY begins to fall apart, not as much because of its indecisive attitude toward fantasy and realism, as because of its last act left turn away from its heretofore cogent discussion of the disenfranchisement of women, and the guilt women live with when they fall short of their clan’s desires for strong sons, good little girls, or perfect mothers who serve their people instead of serving themselves. Make no mistake: Alex Wolff, who delivers an above-and-beyond performance as an average young man who is alienated by his freak sister and unstable mother, is always at the center of the film. The guilt he acquires from being an unwilling murderer is as potent as anything I think I’ve ever seen in a movie. So, it isn’t that this male experience of disappointing your family, and also feeling victimized by their very existence, is absent from the first leg of the story. It’s that when the film finally tries to make sense of itself, by revealing that Toni Collette’s mother intended to offer one of her male progeny as a vessel for a masculine entity that would bring her great wealth...well, it sort of flies in the face of the psychological depths we’ve plumbed up to that point. For one thing, the movie’s title suggests a singular focus on the intergenerational passing-down of trauma and blame, and the collection of damaged women to whom we’re immediately introduced are obvious experts in this matter. It doesn’t quite work when the story vacillates between sympathizing with these doomed females, and then sympathizing with a young man’s fear and loathing of adult women, who he perceives as irrational and castrating. And how is it possible that the profound mystery surrounding the family’s progressive ruin is rooted in something as shallow as money? I tried to develop a theory that it works as the final insult of any familial loss--that death is incredibly expensive to manage, and inheritance can be just burdensome as it is a blessing--but I don’t know, there’s not enough on the table for me to make a meal out of.

Setting aside the idea of sacrificing your son to a money demon, though, one can say that even if HEREDITARY is a little unsteady in its construction, the individual components are solid. And here I don’t just mean compelling, but also, real. This is the reason I people are so bothered by HEREDITARY--that it tells the truth in a much more direct manner than most audiences expect of a supernatural horror film. While that may be an unwelcome experience, it may be more helpful to think of this unpleasantness as a gift that art can give us. This kind of nasty confrontation with trauma is important for an individual’s personal development, integrity, and self-knowledge. The more demandingly exhibitionistic a movie is, the better chance we have to untangle ourselves from the billowing curtain of metaphor and anthropological generality, and to be purified by the excoriating light of realism--not the artistic genre, but actual contact with reality.

Here we find my own big reveal, my left turn away from what my previous paragraphs have led you to expect. Let me tell you about my mother. My mother was an enormously popular person. Extremely sharp, funny, fashionable, cultured--all things that help keep one’s private persona in the shadows. A prolific artist, she created hyperreal paintings and drawings from miniatures, like toys and model train props, that represented an exaggerated simulation of reality. Much of her work was about female pageantry, social expectations of women, or the chintzy objects that littered the lives of 1950s and 60s housewives, like kitschy bric-a-brac and tawdry paperbacks. People absolutely loved her for her taste, her humor, her ability to express herself. She did not like me. This was so true that, even without a history of physical abuse, that her peers sometimes say things to me that reveal their awareness of the facts of our relationship, or lack thereof. I hear things like, “Your mother loved you, you know!”, in a tone of voice that suggests that they know this would be late breaking news, without ever having asked me how I feel or what I think. From the earliest age, I seemed to refuse to meet the expectations people have of their children: I hated to be touched, I cried endlessly, I quaked with anxiety and a nameless guilt day and night, I burned with an aimless anger. I could draw, and did so compulsively, but nothing nice or bright. I was acutely aware of sexuality, violence, vanity, and shame. I was no fun whatsoever. Later in life--very recently in life, actually--I discovered that I have two important, inherent qualities: One, that I have a genetic inability to process copper properly, a mineral that is psychoactive and can make you pretty unhinged in large quantities. Two, that I suffer from a form of Autism Spectrum Disorder, a range of mental conditions that have been historically ignored in women, largely because of misogynist prejudices that society holds about essentially-female dysfunctionality. Unfortunately for me, my mother died when I was a teenager, almost two decades before I would find out these things that might have made her more tolerant of me.

Fortunately, I guess, I think I know why my mother took such an exception to me, and it isn’t all about me. It’s about her mother. My maternal grandmother was also an artist of sorts, but more in terms of artifice. I haven’t decided whether it is fair for me to spill all of the details of a story that belongs to more people than myself, but I will go so far as to say that my maternal great-grandparents meted out trauma and shame in a manner that my grandmother allowed to contribute to her painful estrangement from her sister. For my purposes, what it really did was teach my mother that darkness--any kind of darkness, even darkness that belongs to you and you alone, that you have a right to, that should be yours to process as you see fit--is inappropriate. It is just as inappropriate in adults as it is in children, which she would see very clearly in her mother’s strict orchestration of their household into an unimpeachably pure, Rockwellian model of what an American family should be like. While my mother found her way into the revolutionary world of hippie rebellion and art-making, she never let go of her prohibition against sadness and rage, even in her own child, and I suffered from it until she suddenly, rapidly and gruesomely died of lung cancer when I was barely old enough to drive. Afterward, her mother obsessed over me in a way that was simultaneously scathingly intense and unmistakably impersonal. I looked like my mother, and my grandmother’s identity was rooted entirely in dominating a family, so she couldn’t do without me. I couldn’t let her know anything about myself; my feelings about horror, pornography, death taboos, sexual identity, and media that is out to hurt you, are what make up all that I am, and are the opposite of everything she believes in. With that weight on my back, I had to pretend that we had this archetypal American familial intimacy, even when I didn’t have it with my own mother, even when I hated being touched, even when I hadn’t learned how to receive affection. Early this year, she died at 90 years old from a misdiagnosed colon condition. As my family rushed to her side to say goodbye, we discovered that her shadowy sister had pushed her doctors into lifesaving measures that would have extended her existence into something so horrific that it would have stood up to the ugliest scenes from JACOB’S LADDER, had she not miraculously died before regaining consciousness. As perversely relieving as that was, my ears ring with the sound of her last phone call to me. Intended to be a heartfelt goodbye, it devolved quickly into the woman, completely possessed of her mental faculties, absolutely screaming for her life. It was a sound as chilling as anything from any of the sadistic movies I love so well, and I really heard it, in my real life.

This all would be enough to make me talk the way that I do, but it isn’t all. Recently, my father revealed to me some details of my mother’s struggle with cancer that I had never heard before. Although my mother had been told to go straight home and make her peace upon diagnosis, she and my father plunged full bore into magical thinking. They experimented with hypnosis, acupuncture, reiki, anything that might activate my mother’s internal ability to heal herself. Soon they found themselves in the office of a charismatic self-help guru-type in a neighboring city. Incidentally, this person is now at the center of an increasingly bizarre trial that is slated to begin this January, due to her authoritative involvement with a Scientology-like cult that allegedly maintains a secret inner circle of brand-wielding sex slavers. But anyway, back to my little memoir: It isn’t clear to me what she claimed was the scope of her powers exactly, but I know that she specialized in a form of “healing” that involved hypnosis and carefully selected words, I suppose not unlike a magical incantation. She said to my mother: “I am going to heal you.” The reason she said this so forcefully, was that my mother was the physical double of a previous client of hers; a client who died from the same specific form of lung cancer that plagued my mother; and who lived in the house we had moved into, only months before my mother was diagnosed with terminal cancer. That woman died, we moved into her house, and by pure coincidence, my subsequently sick mother found herself in the office of the self-styled healer who had treated the previous owner of our new home for the very same illness. “God has given me a second chance,” the healer said, “and I am going to heal you.” My mother saw her for several months, until one day she arrived to find a third woman in the office. Astoundingly, the healer described the young coed as having supernatural gifts. The two instantly began terrorizing my mother, screaming at her and cursing her. My mother, sobbing hysterically, begged to know, “Why are you yelling at me?” and they replied, “WE’RE NOT YELLING AT YOU, WE’RE YELLING AT THE CANCER!” When he told the story, of course, my father accidentally said “demon”, not “cancer”, but in any case, they were trying to exorcize her. My mother never went back, and, some might remark, she died.

Naturally, I wanted to tell this story to anyone who would listen to me, as soon as I had heard it. It was one of the weirdest things I had ever heard, and it happened to my family. While some people’s jaw dropped in exactly the way mine had originally, I received some unexpected feedback, too. On some occasions, a dear friend would pause at the end of my story, make a calculated “surprise” sound, and then, very gently, explain to me that coincidences exist, self-hypnosis and group hysteria exist, and I shouldn’t take any of it too seriously. I found myself, not just disappointed, but embarrassed. I wasn’t trying to tell people that I believed my family was cursed by god or the devil, or that we had been molested by some evil sorceress. I was simply trying to say that, somehow...isn’t there some kind of spiritual truth to this? Isn’t it worth remarking on, that my life, my history, had congealed into such an incredible metaphor for itself? Isn’t it so much more compelling than any kind of fiction I could ever have written, any artwork I could ever have created in order to process the exact kind of trouble my family has suffered? Isn’t this just amazing, all by itself, without even the benefit of theatrical interpretation? Of course, the conclusion will be that I absolutely have to give this some kind of theatrical interpretation, or else I will go out of my mind. I’m close enough as it is. But, in some ways, I felt like this interpretation has already happened at the hands of Ari Aster, with his horrific fable about how inherited trauma among generations of women gives way to the machinations of a corrupt cult. People who know me well will realize that I’m still leaving out parallels between HEREDITARY and myself, in this already too-long piece of analysis. But I guess what I’m trying to say for now is that I need HEREDITARY, and we each need a HEREDITARY of our own to put our most unspeakable experiences on a pin, under a spotlight, inside a bell jar, to be examined from every angle and exactingly diagnosed, whether we like it or not.

#blogtober #hereditary #ari aster #horror #supernatural #witch #cult #toni collette #milly shapiro #alex wolff #gabriel byrne #anecdotal evidence #mental illness

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listenstooge-blog · 5 years ago

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The Lonesome Death of Listen, Stooge.

I have many attributes, but perseverance is not one of them.

https://www.listenstooge.com/home/the-lonesome-death-of-listen-stooge

________________________________________________________________

I have many attributes, but perseverance is not one of them.

So I am killing Listen, Stooge before it has even reached six months of age. I am killing it for one very simple reason: nobody reads it. Not my friends. Not my family.

Nobody! Not even you.

It turns out that the world doesn't want another random observer on American politics. It especially doesn't want one who won't predictably deliver thoughts that back-up what the readers already believe.

Listen, Stooge attacked the political Right and then it attacked the political Left. People in America are increasingly on one team or the other, so when an anonymous dickhead posts something that they like they assume he is on their team. When the next day he attacks their sacred cows they get pissed off. "I thought you were one of us!" they think, before deleting the link forever.

To be honest, it doesn't seem as if anybody actually did that with Listen, Stooge. The counts of readers on the LS blog are not high enough to support the paragraph above as a credible theory. The facts suggest that I am the only person who ever read it.

Nonetheless, I need a reason to explain why LS is dead as dust and for reasons of psychological health the reason can't be “it wasn't very good." That would reflect poorly on the blogger, and the blogger would rather things reflect poorly on everyone else.

In any case, this space will not become a void. One of these days it will be replaced by Blazing Prattles. BP will be different because it won't be full of reasoned reflections on things like political candidates. It will, instead, be whatever pops into my noggin, i.e., my impressions of the day and completely pointless thoughts. They will sometimes be funny, occasionally wry, at times insightful and, too-often, stupid as all get-out.

Most importantly, the postings on Blazing Prattles will be short. If there is anything one cannot do in 2019 if one wants to attract and maintain readers it is write something longer than a paragraph or two. The political statements will still lurch around the spectrum, disappointing many. I can't help myself on that front.

If Blazing Prattles doesn't work I will have to go back to earning a living at my real job. I will make humorously trenchant observations to my co-workers, chuckling with self-satisfaction until I notice their eyes looking for the closest escape route. I have experience at all that.

So tally ho, as the huntsman says before chasing down the doomed fox. Tally ho.

#ListenStoogeFarewell #BlazingPrattlesHello

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taeken-my-heart · 4 years ago

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Charming Finale

Summary: Prince Seokjin was as infuriating as he was beautiful. In line to one day be king, he requested your guidance in the ways of his people. In turn he will make you laugh, give your family fine gifts, and become an invaluable friend. Unfortunately, he will also make you fall in love with him. But the most unfortunate thing of all was his betrothal…to Snow White

Pairing: Seokjin x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Fantasy, Angst, Snow white/au

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 7659

It's not true what they say about death. The black doesn't remain. You were surrounded by swirling shades of violet, fuchsia, and azure. Lights bursting behind the shade of your quickly cooling eyelids. Your limbs were stiff but your vision was alive and swelling. There was a consciousness you'd never known death could hold, that allowed thoughts and dreams to roam openly.

Visions of yellow daisies erupting left you breathless when suddenly there was an explosion of color and you were gasping for air, eyes shooting open and blinking in the confusion of the aftermath.

Fingers tingling and breast heaving, your vision finally came into focus and your gaze shifted to the figure leaning over you. "Jin?" You breathed.

Jin's eyes were red, cheeks swollen with tears and you watched in surprise as he lurched forward, burying his face in your chest and crying. "I thought I’d lost you!" He wailed. "How could you do something so stupid? I need you, you're everything to me!"

Your breathing was shallow, evening out with the life that was filling your chest. "What about Snow?"

"I could not wake her. Only true loves kiss can break the spell."

"How did I wake up?" You asked softly.

"I kissed you." Jin murmured, his tears slowing with his exhale as he lifted himself from you.

You took a deep breath as you tried to allow your thoughts to settle. "You...kissed...me?"

"I had to try." He whispered, "I love you."

You watched his face carefully as you took deep breaths. Your body felt heavy from death, like you'd slept too deeply and woken suddenly. "Help me sit up?" You asked softly and Jin complied, helping you to sit up against the trunk of a tree.

You were still in the forest and morning light was seeping through the openings of the trees. "How long have I been...asleep?" You asked delicately. The dwarfs stood behind Jin's kneeling figure, faces the picture of relief.

Jin frowned, eyes dimming. "You were missing 3 days. The dwarf's found you this morning and I came as soon as I could. I thought I'd lost you." He repeated weakly.

"I'm sorry." You mumbled. "I thought I would never see you again and couldn't bear the thought of it. It was a very selfish thing to do, I admit,"

"Yes, it was." Jin scolded and you stared in surprise. "Death is a very permanent solution to such a temporary problem. You can't just have a tantrum when things don't go your way. Even if I had been able to wake Snow you would have recovered from the disappointment. We all recover and move on with our lives, that's the way of things."

"I thought you said you loved me, why are you yelling at me?" You muttered into your lap.

"I do love you," Jin sighed, "but I'm mad at you."

You nodded, clasping your hands together. "I understand." Silence descended and you blinked in thought. "What will happen to Snow? Will she remain asleep forever?"

Jin paused, blinking down at you before pushing his hair from his brow. "I find in my sorrow I neglected to tell you everything. Snow is alive and well."

Your eyes jumped up to his, eyebrows knitting together. "But you said you couldn't wake her."

"I couldn't." Jin affirmed, "But it turns out the huntsman could."

"Oh." You breathed.

You supposed you shouldn't have been so surprised; all the signs were there. You had just been so consumed with Jin and his destiny that you hadn't paid much attention to what could have been happening between Snow and Diterich.

"Perhaps we could make our way inside." Doc smiled and you glanced over Jin's shoulder to return the gesture. "We are preparing supper and have warm blankets. It will take some time to recover from the effects of the poison."

Jin stood suddenly, sliding his arms under your legs and around your waist to hoist you into his arms. "Please, lead the way."

. .

The fire was warm and full as Jin placed you in the large chair in front of it, taking the proffered blanket from one of the dwarfs and spreading it over your body. You felt a bit too warm as you sat there, watching everyone prepare the food but Doc insisted you stay exactly as you were so that the heat could help you sweat out the remnants of the poison; much like a fever.

"What now?" You asked softly, holding onto Jin's hand while he sat on the floor beside you. "Your father will be extremely unhappy about this turn of events."

"I imagine so." Jin mused, staring into the flames. Silence engulfed the two of you and you chewed on the inside of your bottom lip in thought. Even now, with Jin at your side and Snow awake from another's kiss, there were no guarantees Jin's father wouldn't still insist on them marrying. They were betrothed, after all.

"I suppose it's unreasonable to think you could be with a commoner." You murmured, bottom lip trembling despite yourself. "I understand if you have to go."

Jin turned to look at you sharply. "I have no intention of leaving you. I thought I lost you twice, I will not lose you again."

"But your father!" You insisted, sniffing and rubbing a tear from the corner of your eye.

"I don't care." Jin said, lifting onto his knees and sitting in front of you. "You own my heart; totally and completely. I can't continue without you and I refuse to do so. I've tried to do my duty my entire life and now I want to do something for me."

"How selfish of you." You smiled softly, a gesture that he returned, lifting your hand to his lips and leaving a soft kiss.

"We're all entitled to a little selfishness sometimes."

"Well come now," Happy beamed, patting his belly cheerfully, "the supper is ready and we should have full stomachs before such heavy talk."

"Stay put and we'll bring some over to you." Doc hummed, ladling some of the stew into a wooden bowl and handing it to Grumpy to bring to you.

"Thank you." You murmured, taking the bowl from him and he offered you one of his rare smiles, patting the top of your hand.

"You really scared us, girl."

"I'm sorry." You whispered, "I really am. I didn't realize how many people my decision would impact."

"You have many people that love you, dear." Doc smiled, bringing a bowl to Jin and sitting down across from you with his own. "Sometimes we don't see what's right in front of us, but it doesn't mean it's not there. We're glad you're safe."

"I would miss you." Bashful blushed and Dopey nodded his head vigorously.

"I would miss you too." You smiled.

"Well, tuck in. Sleepy, could you bring the bread?" Doc called. The other dwarfs came with their own bowls and a loaf of bread that everyone divided between them.

Conversation was light and jolly as they talked of music and celebrations. The bread was warm and buttered, melting on your tongue and the stew was hearty and filling. By the time you'd finished your food you felt full and as though you'd sweat a river.

Jin looked at you, chuckling. "You'll need to wash yourself."

"How preposterous. Commenting on my state in such a way." You tutted, attempting to push the blanket from your lap before Doc pushed it back up, insisting you wait.

"We'll prepare a bath for you. We've sent for your mother; she will help to bathe you."

"Oh, that's not necessary!" You insisted, face warming.

"My dear child," he said softly, holding your hand in his own and speaking gently, "you've been dead for 3 days. You’ll need the help. Would you prefer one of us help you bathe?" He chuckled.

Jin looked positively mortified, "what an outrageous jest!" He said, gesticulating wildly, "that would be completely improper."

"I see your sense of humor remains stiff and serious." Grumpy commented offhandedly, shuffling from the room.

“Jin.” You murmured and he looked up at you, eyes wide in inquiry. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking…I just assumed that you’d be able to wake her and I would be forgotten…I couldn’t…I just couldn’t handle it. I’m so sorry.”

Jin hurried to his knees, rubbing the tears from your cheeks with his thumb as he soothed you with gentle words. “I know. I would have missed you terribly. I did miss you terribly. I was nearly out of my mind with grief when we found you.”

“I’m so sorry.” You said once again, watching his dark eyes flicker across your face; surveying him so close you could hardly believe you were here and now. “And…I love you too.”

Tears sprung from your eyes once more; unbidden and heavy in their tracks across your cheeks.

“I know.” He whispered, nodding and stroking your cheeks once more. “It’s such a tragedy that our first kiss was while you were sleeping, don’t you think?”

You watched as he smiled, eyes crinkling at the sides. His tone of voice was playful and you pouted at him. “Don’t tease me if you mean nothing by it.” You chastised.

He grinned, glancing around the room quickly before leaning forward to press his lips against yours. “Better?”

“Your mother has arrived.” Doc called from by the window and you pulled away from the prince quickly, glancing towards the door.

Jin stood, moving closer to the fireplace as your mother entered, eyes sunken and dark. The guilt floored you once again as you took in her expression; the fear, confusion, anger. She glanced around the room, eyes darting towards the prince.

“Your majesty.” She croaked, head bowing slightly before she moved towards you.

“I’m so sorry.” You whispered, bottom lip trembling.

Your mother raised her head, standing and wiping at her cheeks. “Will someone be kind enough to help me bring her to the bath?”

The prince immediately stepped forward. “I would be honored.” He said softly. They both helped you to move slowly to the bathing room, your arms around their shoulders and you felt like your chest might burst open from shame.

Jin helped you to sit on the stool by the bath before excusing himself, closing the door behind himself. Your mother worked to undo the bindings of your dress, sliding in from your form and you shivered. She’d not bathed you since you were a child and your mortification continued to mount.

You glanced up at her, chewing your bottom lip before nodding and staring down into the water. Your mother sighed. “I suspected as much.”

“You suspected?” You asked in surprise.

“Surely you could not have foreseen this.” You said softly.

“Certainly not.” She agreed, “Though I did hope you could raise your fortune higher than we ever could.”

“Mother,” you sighed, using your fingers to trickle water across your arms, “to marry a prince…it’s a feat I’m afraid my station in life makes me incapable of.”

“Perhaps.” She agreed, scrubbing down your back. “But his devotion is clear, my child. If I am not mistaken, I believe he will fight for you.”

“I promise.” . . “Would you like stew?” Happy asked as your mother helped you to settle back in the chair by the fire.

“I am a mite hungry.” She smiled, accepting the bowl from his hands and a hunk of bread.

“What will happen with Snow now?” Sneezy asked, standing beside the hearth and prodding into the fire with a poker. “The queen is dead; Snow will have to ascend to the throne.”

You glanced sharply up and Jin who reached out to squeeze your shoulder. “All will be well, I’m sure. I will take care of things.”

“We need to return home as soon as I’m finished.” Your mother said from the chair by the fire. “Your father is expecting us. He wants to see you home.”

“Would you like my help escorting you?” The prince asked. “It’s a bit of a walk in her state.”

You nodded quietly, quickly thinking of a plausible injury while she finished her food. When everything was ready, both Jin and your mother hiked your arms around their shoulders once more, helping you from the cottage and carefully into the forest.

“Thank you for your help, your majesty.” Your mother said softly, bowing her head once more.

Jin himself bowed, to the surprise of your mother and you smiled. Ever the gentleman. “The pleasure was mine, ma’am. Y/N…” he paused, glancing at your mother before continuing. “I will speak with my father tonight. . . ~Jin’s P.O.V~

“I’m glad you’re here.” He said, setting the book and his glass of wine down on the small table beside him. He waited for Jin to seat himself. “I was wanting to speak to you about your betrothal.”

The prince nodded, hands ringing together in front of him. “I was hoping to speak with you as well.” He said, leaning forward onto his knees. “About Margit.”

“Yes, very sad affair this. The death of a monarch so suddenly; it’s quite a tragedy.” The king said; morose.

“The queen was trying to kill, Margit.” Jin said lowly.

“Yes,” Jin nodded, straightening slightly, “I wish to speak to you about that as well.”

“Good, then we are in agreement. The marriage should take place quickly. We will of course have to take time to prepare and send invitations. We have many people who will need to come from far so the earliest we can progress would be a fortnight.” The king blathered and Jin cleared his throat to gain his father’s attention.

“You wish to what?” The king spluttered, back ramrod straight in his chair. “You wish to break the betrothal?!”

“Yes, father.” Jin continued. “Margit is a wonderful woman and she will make a very good queen…of her own kingdom. We have discussed it and neither of us wishes to marry the other. We are not in love with one another.”

Jin straightened completely, staring deep into the angry eyes of his father. He looked mad with fury. “Why is marrying someone for political gain my duty, father? Do you not think someone from our own kingdom would do well?”

“Is this about that confounded peasant girl?” The king howled, standing from his chair and pacing angrily behind it.

Jin stood himself, quietly and with great poise. His father’s greatest weakness was how strongly his emotion ruled him. If the prince could present a calm and collected face, perhaps his father could see reason. “Yes, it is.” He admitted.

The king stopped suddenly, turning to look at his son. “I am in love with her.”

His father resumed his seat, beckoning for his son to sit again. “The people are hardworking, father.” Jin continued, “They are good and they are kind and I wish to know their truest needs and desires. I believe the best way to do so would be to choose a bride from among them; someone who knows intimately what it is to be a villager in our kingdom.”

“And you wish for that girl to be your wife?” The king asked, fingers bouncing along the arm of his chair as his gaze switched from the flames to his son and back again.

“I do.” Jin admitted. “I would do anything to have her. Anything including…including giving up my claim to the throne.”

The king turned to him suddenly, surprise renewed and his whole body tensed. “Give up the throne?!”

“And what of the princess? Margit still needs to marry to ascend to the throne.”

Jin smiled softly at his father. “I would not have suggested such a drastic change in plans if I didn’t have a solution.” He said softly.

“I suppose you mean for her to marry a peasant as well?” The king grumbled, twisting the ring on his middle finger in quick circles.

“Not quite a peasant. A huntsman.”

The king scoffed before groaning and dropping his head into his hands. Jin watched him, his heart squeezing with compassion. All his father had ever known was duty; his head was not accustomed to giving way to his heart.

“I know,” Jin nodded, leaning forward on his elbows again, seeking his father’s eyes. “I know what I ask of you is difficult, but love and duty can be joined for once. I can be happy and still rule this kingdom well; better in fact, with one of its women as my backbone.”

The king smiled softly, shaking his head. “You have the determination of your mother, you know.”

“You say that as though it were a bad thing.” The prince smiled and the king shrugged.

“It depends on the day.” Silence descended on the room, only the cracks of the fire as company while the king thought. “You’ve still not told me the name of your bride.” He said finally.

Jin looked up at his father, dark eyes twinkling in the light of the fire. “I think you will quite like her.” He grinned. . .

“You’re betrothed?” Else choked, standing at the doorway of her home and you smiled. “To the prince?!”

You chuckled, leaning against the timber walls. “That’s correct. You’ve met him you know…the man from the market. Jin.”