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cursesavior · 3 months ago

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There's a moment of tension when she just stares at him, and he wonders what her next move will be - but he's relieved to see that she seems to have calmed down since their last encounter. That makes things a lot easier. "You're welcome." He accepts her reluctant thanks without much for hesitation, sitting down on the tatami floor - not too close to her, but close enough that there wasn't an unnatural distance between them. Standing the whole time was awkward, and it created the air of a power imbalance if he towered over her while she was unable to stand. That was the kind of thing he pulled with monkeys, not sorcerers. "I'm glad you're feeling better. You were in quite the dire condition, so I wasn't sure how well the monkeys would be able to patch you up... But it seems they did a fine job."

He gives a scoff of a laugh when her first question is about his getup - not that he can blame her, he's sure he looks like something of an eccentric compared to the straight-laced way he'd presented back in high school. "Not seriously," He hums, a coy smile on his lips. "It's just a bit of showmanship, that's all. Monkeys love this short of thing." And whatever would get them to follow him, to hand over their curses and bend to his will, that's what he would do. It's a means to an end, and he leaned fully into it despite how ridiculous it all was. He'll pretend like he picked out these robes at random and that he hadn't very deliberately picked out the gojo-kesa out of all the costumes he could've chosen for this role. It's just an act, after all. It meant nothing. "They find it much easier to devote themselves to a religious figure than anything else - and they can be a rather convenient resource." Whether it be their money, their curses, or their skills - they're just tools for him to collect and discard once they're no longer useful.

In some ways, though, it is more than an act. He doesn't see himself as the savior of the monkeys he presents himself to, no, that's all a lie, and he knows he isn't god - he just seems like one in comparison to the weak. But he does see himself as a savior to the strong, sees himself as a righteous force of justice to cleanse the world ( or, really, the island of Japan ) of the vermin that had overrun it for too long. Really, the lie is just about who he intends to save; he is equal parts fraudulent and genuine, depending on where you look. But he can keep that to himself for now - he's found that diving into ideology too quickly makes people think he's a lunatic. He'll ease into that conversation when the time is right. Though admittedly, his repeated referrals to non-sorcerers as monkeys had about as much subtlety as a sledgehammer.

"Would you care for some tea? You're my guest, after all." He asks politely, gesturing to the cups and kettle on the table a few steps away. Hospitality is always a good first step, if saving someone's life wasn't enough to garner some good karma on its own. "It's black tea, but if you'd prefer something else it won't be much trouble to have something else made."

IT IS A RARE THING FOR persephone to fall into dreamless sleep. the perpetual bags under her eyes are a testament to the fact that more nights than not she is plagued by nightmares. sleep is more of an obstacle than a blessing, anyway: every hour that ticks by with her not at the helm, defenseless and vulnerable to attack, is an hour that her enemies could use to move in on her. the paranoia that keeps her running from rathole to rathole every night with no respite has its grounds; even across the world, her reputation is bound to bleed into public knowledge soon. which means cops, sorcerers, and her victims' vengeful friends can be counted among potential dangers.

so they stay awake; two-hour rests here and there, in the hours when the public mills in a sea of bodies below her, just long enough to keep this exhausted vessel going. and then, occasionally, a major injury puts them in a medical coma and they feel incredible for a while, or they drink themself into oblivion and wake up with a hangover. none of them are great options. the price of paranoia, they suppose.

when she wakes, it's from a long, dreamless sleep, which means: injury. at first, she thinks she's in the unseen's infirmary, a small hospital wing built into one of their import/export warehouses. the futon is... lower to the ground than the hospital beds she's used to, but the fog hasn't quite cleared enough to feed her the truth.

it's only when she pushes herself upright with a low groan, and her eyes land on the familiar-unfamiliar robed figure standing a safe distance away, that the memories flood through her. there's a moment of panic — feeling for a gun that is no longer there, swearing in english under her breath — but only a moment. in truth, she's too fucking exhausted to go hostile again. besides, if he wanted to kill her, he would have done it while she was unconscious. persephone knows very little about suguru geto, but one thing she does know? he isn't an idiot. he wouldn't be alive if he was.

for several moments her jaw works as she stares, eyes narrowed, gauging the threat level of this situation. gauging potential paths through it. his people went through the effort to treat her wounds; he must need something from her. at least that beats wanting her dead. finally, the springloaded tension in her spidery form melts away. persephone looks him up and down properly for the first time since he walked out of jujutsu tech. buddhist monk robes, the room around her that suspiciously resembles temple architecture — is he a fucking priest now?

❝ i'm fine. ❞ technically. still woozy from blood loss, still emitting a screaming torrent of cursed energy (though markedly less than usual, for the first night after a kill), but... though they can't move very well, they're breathing. which is all they can ask for, really. a pause; a reluctant, grumbly edge to her voice. ❝ thanks to you. ❞

she's... got to admit, there's something oddly — not comforting, exactly, but familiar in a welcome way — about seeing another face from school outside of jujutsu society. they never looked into the rumors and whispers about what suguru geto became after he defected. apparently, the answer is a weird monk. ❝ okay — i need to know. what the fuck is up with the robes and the temple? you didn't seriously become a priest, did you? ❞

#— i get dark only to shine / IN CHARACTER.#— i'll make you a believer / V; CURSE USER.#its a grift! .... mostly!!#huntershowl #he's so goofy sometimes LMFAO

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mysafehaneul · 3 years ago

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Aquamarine

I am thinking of making it a series if it gets good response tho.

The Gif is from Yuri on Ice, since I can't find any other aesthetically pleasing Gif. CR to the owner.

Wonwoo×Reader (Angst; slight fluff)

Warnings: none

Word count: 1.5k ish...

ArrangemarriageAu!

Timestamp

[8:18PM]

The light illuminating from the chandelier as u stood under it and its light reflecting on the glass you were holding onto as if your life depended on that grip, you were trying your best to look calm and collected but your anxious eyes and nervous smile were slowly giving it away from time to time you were glancing towards the entrance of the mansion where you and your soon to be fiancè was supposed to get engaged yet the latter was no where to been seen most of the guest were too caught up in their own conversations pay mind to you yet giving a glance at your direction in short intervals, dressed in their finest and pulled up their most civilised and happy upfront you were aware although it didnt seemed like it, there were some silent eyes observing yours and your families every move to catch a sniff of drama for their headlines and small flashes from the camera around you, you were unconsciously biting your lips when your left a small hand slightly hovering over yours taking the glass out of your grip you looked up to see you mother with slight tensed eyes giving you a tight smile,

"Pull yourself together sweetheart I have thought you better, Where is Wonwoo?"

To be honest you would like to know the answer to that question too where is Wonwoo? A small inaudible sigh left your lips you leaned into your mother's ears to whisper

"Anywhere but here, Why don't you ask his parents about their son's whereabouts"

You both looked at the bar where Wonwoo's parents were sitting while one of their bodyguards' talking to Mr. Jeon and he looked like he was about to pop a vein of his brain trying his best to keep his voice low In order to avoid any attention when Mrs. Jeon's eyes met yours and then your mother's she gave you a small smile and diverted her attention back to her slightly frantic husband raising her hand on his back and rub it up and down to calm him down anyone from a 10-mile radius could sense the tension in the room, everyone is here except the man of the hour. You liked her, Wonwoo's mother she was a good person that's all you can say from your two encounters the first one was when both of the families ate lunch and you met your mother's childhood best friend and his wife aka Wonwoo's parents and the second was a dinner where they expressed their wish to make you their daughter-in-law, making you both you and Wonwoo choke in your respectable food and him on his drink you were well aware that things like these are not decided over two meals in the gap of one week because the way your parents looked unfazed and nodding as If it's approval to their wishes all you could think was a heads-up would have been nice so that you could have fled to Paris or something. Wonwoo looked like he was about to explode in rage but he trying to mask it with all his might but the shake in his body was slightly giving it away seemed like he had no prior knowledge of this either as he excused himself to the washroom.

Just like that day you were alone standing in the middle of a ballroom surrounded by acquaintances extended family and friends waiting for him to show up and do the formality play the part of a dutiful son and a reliable successor of their family business. You both knew that this was a marriage of convenience and no matter what you had to bend your knees in front of the responsibilities and the wishes of your families, The heels you were wearing were numbing your feet and a small headache making it way up from the tight bun and buzz from the champagne you were drinking.

Your parents were now talking or more like assuring the Jeon's when you felt someone stand next to you looking to your left you saw your best friend looking at you holding two glasses extending one in your direction which you gladly took raising it to your lips you took a small sip and felt the bubbly liquid going down your throat,

"Gosh even Aphrodite would be jealous of you today, Wonwoo is going to fall in love with you all over again "

when did he fall in love with you in the first place you thought to yourself nodding in their direction you gave them a small smile,

"Thanks, babe," you said taking a step back and doing an up and down at their attire "you don't look that bad yourself either".

Rolling their eyes they said, " I know but tonight is about you. So where is your prince charming, it's about time he showed up-" as they said that all heads turned toward the entrance in Walks the prince charming in his slicked black hair and royal blue tuxedo matching your attire he was not wearing his glasses maybe lenses. His parents sighed in relief and walked towards him you saw his father asking him something but his mother squeezed his arms stopping him from drawing any unwanted attention soon acquaintances flocking him shaking his hands and mingling you noticed the frown easing from your father's face as your mother was talking to someone from your company and your father trying to keep up with them without being rude.

Wonwoo was easily towering over most of the people in this room he was talking to someone when your eyes met but to were quick to look away.

"Close your mouth you are drooling all over the floor," your friend said making you roll your eyes throwing a small glare in their direction you were about to make a remark when from the corner of your eyes you saw his figure striding towards your direction as he reached next to you his hands going on the back of your waist and leaning in to plant a small kiss on your cheeks catching you slightly off guard your hands on autopilot went to grab his bicep before you stumble you both never stood in this proximity let alone kisses on the cheeks He leaned into your ears his lips slightly bumping the shell of your ear making the goosebumps rise on your skin as his breath fanned in your ear he whispered, "sorry I am late, I hope nothing exceptional happened in my absence"

You moved your head away your eyes locked as you reached for his ears and replied,

"Your father was about to pop a vein if you can call that exceptional" your eyes didn't miss the red mark below his ear lobe and now your question of where he was and who he was with, was answered before you even had the chance to ask with a little disappointment bubbling in your stomach but you tried ignored it with all your might.

Soon you both were standing facing each other with his hand in yours as your slid the engagement ring on his fourth finger, his mother beaming with glee and his father fashioned a proud smile on his face she and pulled out a box from her bag handing it over to wonwoo as he open the box the people surrounding the both of you went awestruck and why not it was a princess cut aquamarine ring one of a kind removing it from the box the diamond reflected the light of the chandelier he reached for your hand, there was a slight shake in wonwoo's breath and you couldnt differentiate if it was his or your hands which were sweating as the ring slid inside your finger wonwoo noticed how you hands were slightly shaking he gave your hand a light squeeze and closed his eyes taking a moment to gather himself you were about to reciprocate the squeeze but the pop of champagne starled you removing your hand form his your mother engulfed you in her arms as if you have just returned from war soon one by one the congratulations kept flooding in when you eyes met your father's he gave you a nod and an assuring smile he knew that wonwoo wasnt the one you want, but he believed that he was the best choice for you and your bussineses future. All you could think to yourself Is that It's not the parent's fault to think the best for their children and their future but why do they forget that their happiness matters equally too their opinions matter too they matter too, You can't help but look at Wonwoo, feeling sad for both of yourself he was doing a pretty decent job to pull up a happy facade which matched yours but his eyes said otherwise as you both caught each other gaze you knew that there is no turning back from here two different paths joining together to form a single road now it's unbeknownst to you how the journey will go...

#i am sick and bored #seventeen arrange marriage au #seventeen angst #jeon womwoo #seventeen scenarios #svt au #wonwoo angst #kpop fluff #kpop angst #seventeem timestamp #seventeen #kpop trending #kpop funny #kpop memes #fanfiction #most read #arrange marriage au

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flickeringart · 3 years ago

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Neptune in aspect with Mars

(Read my post about Sun and Moon aspecting Neptune and Mercury and Venus aspecting Neptune)

These planets aspecting each other makes for a curious connection, because in a sense, they represent opposing principles; Mars represents the personal drive and the ability to spring to action, the force that works to impose one’s independent will on the world – Neptune represents the inner urge for emotional unity and the religious/spiritual experience of being merged with the source of life. When these planets are in aspect in the natal chart, the personal ability to carry out one’s will is inextricably linked to redemptive longings. Simply put, Mars-Neptune individuals will put their energy into fulfilling the ego ideal, the perfection of potential that existed before the personality began to form. The personality cannot assert itself in a way that would crush the dream of perfection. Neptune is the dream of purity, the undifferentiated beauty of never having left the garden of Eden. Mars on the other hand is the agent of independence and self-motivated action – he has the purpose of fighting for the individual self which is antithetical to the Neptunian principle of surrender. While the Moon and Venus are quite social; the Moon represents nurturing and care-taking of needs, Venus represents the ability to be loving, affectionate and gracious; Mars is selfish and to a certain extent anti-social – most definitely anti-Eden and its eternal bliss. Subsequently, Neptune paired with Venus or the Moon is a little less of an obvious conflict than Neptune paired with Mars.

The conjunction of Neptune-Mars might cause considerable frustration and unconscious manipulation, because one cannot assert oneself, which is to declare separation, without feeling a deep sense of guilt and shame. It’s a little bit like the Bible story of Adam and Eve eating of the forbidden fruit and immediately becomes aware of sin. This is certainly not an easy phenomenon to deal with. The impulse to avoid accountability for one’s actions can be overwhelming, even if the consequences are perceived to be good. There can be a tremendously inflated sense of righteousness accompanying every move the individual takes because deep down there’s the feeling that one has committed a terrible trespass, that one will be unable to atone for. While the softer aspects, the trine and the sextile, more easily lend themselves to genuine selfless acts and natural inclination to fight on behalf of every bleeding heart and soul in the world through acts of sympathy and kindness, the conjunction usually brings more troubles. There can be an overwhelming feeling of having to do certain things because one cannot stand the idea of being separate from other people. One finds it easy to identify as the martyr or victim, unwilling to take radical responsibility for one’s actions – or if one does it’s in order to self-sacrifice. Often the individual will adopt any ideology that promotes the mass before the individual – often socialism or marxism fits the bill. Neptune is symbolic of undifferentiated reality, blurred edges and passive surrender. It’s not a planet that promotes autonomy and individuation. Not uncommonly, decisions and actions are referred to as byproducts of societal or larger-scale units that have little to do with the poor self. These individuals are usually profoundly dissatisfied with the ways of society because on some level they believe that individual autonomy and agency is a sin – and that the only way to redeem oneself and humanity is through some kind of chaotic dissolution of difference. This urge is seldom conscious, but it is there none the less. Vladimir Lenin had this conjunction and he wanted to revolutionize society to fit the marxist ideology, but really what this means is to overthrow the upper class – to punish those that seem to revel in the delights of Eden, to get rid of the internal shame of being excluded from paradise.

It seems like Neptune-Mars shows up in individuals with the capacity to move a crowd, perhaps most importantly, with the capacity to be the front figure and leader of the masses. Vladimir Lenin certainly affected the masses and so did Napoleon I with the same conjunction. Hassan II of Morocco, known to be one of the most severe rulers widely accused of authoritarian practices and abuses of civil rights had this conjunction as well. These examples are far removed from Neptune’s reputation for denoting empathy, soft-heartedness and sensitivity. However, it might be precisely because of the refusal to abandon the hope of the sweet sweet nectar of paradise that can only truly be accessed in a state of pre-birth if even then, that the outrage is so total. Most children scream when they are born, and this is probably the kind of terrible rage caused by separation that lingers in these people. The sign the conjunction falls in will certainly affect the expression the energies filter through – Lenin had the conjunction in Aries, Hassan had it in Leo and Napoleon had it in Virgo. Virgo is a much more analytical and practical sign than the prideful fire signs of Aries and Leo – consequently Napoleon is famous for his fine skill for method and strategy in war. On his Wikipedia page, it states that Napoleon had a hypnotic effect on people and could bend the strongest leaders to his will in one-on-one conversations. Hypnosis is a marked Neptunian phenomenon. What happens is that the person is able to gently infiltrate the other person’s will – which is quite extraordinary. If someone is receptive and open enough to suggestion, the opportunity and the invitation is there to mold the other through unconscious communion. Since there’s no obvious forcing taking place under hypnosis, the hypnotized person must cooperate on some level – yet it’s not a conscious cooperation which is why the whole phenomena of hypnosis is so unnerving. In general, people would like to think that they are in complete control of themselves, but it’s more of a fancy fantasy rather than an actual reality. We don’t know what we are receptive to and Neptune reminds us of this. He seeps through the most tightly shut doors.

(Buy products with my art)

My own family is quite Neptune dominated and what often happens is that I feel subtly manipulated, yet the manipulation is never fully conscious on the part of the individuals so it becomes difficult to confront them. The times I have, they either take offense or seem genuinely perplexed. It is impossible to confront Neptune, because he works underneath the surface, below the threshold of consciousness. When confronted these types are deeply disturbed that they could’ve imposed something on someone – they either go into a introspective mood, become appalled or proclaim their love and sympathy in an attempt to restore union. My mother has Mars in the 12th house and although it’s not aspecting Neptune, Mars is placed in the house pertaining to this planet and she has Neptune in her 1st house. She never gets angry but people around her certainly do. She is eternally understanding of everyone else’s anger and has acceptance for it, yet she doesn’t respond to any of it on a personal level. She apologizes every time something upsets her. She is never aggressive, yet she does instill subtle guilt through little cues and hints every now and then because it is a sin to have a will that does not align with the crowd that one finds oneself in. Sometimes, when things aren’t the way she wants to see them she doesn’t see them. She presumes that on the most basic level, all people want the same thing, which is probably true on a “soul level”, but sometimes it doesn’t translate to everyday matters. People’s personalities contradict each other and this is no trivial matter – people can and do clash because of individual differences and it can be detrimental to one or all of the individuals involved. However, Neptune doesn’t like to see a clash as a clash – that would be to treat it as a definite fact, which would contradict the fluidity of oceanic union. The frustratingly passive statement “It’s everyone’s fault” or “It’s everyone’s responsibility” is the attempt to not deal with cause and effect while establishing the fact that some abstract common force is always at work. This is neither true nor false but this attitude conveniently keeps everyone “unified” and dependent upon each other.

Admittedly I went with the most gruesome examples when writing about the conjunction, but it goes without saying that not all people with this aspect is going to be a Lenin type – Ryan Gosling, Avril Lavinge and Timothé Chalamet all have this conjunction and they’re all quite popular entertainers in their own ways – they move the masses on some level. Ryan Gosling has a Pisces Rising so his chart ruler is Neptune which makes it particularly strong. He gives off that pure hearted watery eyed look that is extremely mesmerizing to the public – he portrays himself as sweet and compassionate, he seems to have a marked innocence and purity to his outward projected identity. Avril Lavinge has her Sun-Mercury in the 12th house squaring her Neptune-Mars conjunction in the 3rd. She has more of an edge to her personality with a lot of planets in Scorpio but she certainly comes off as a chaotic, intense and absent-minded creative which I would attribute more to Neptune. Her strong rebellious “I don’t care” statements through her music resonates with a lot of people, but so does her more sentimental songs. Timothe´ Chalamet has his Moon in Pisces sextile Mars-Mercury-Neptune and he is quite the stereotypical Neptunian boy – he looks delicate, introspective, dreamy and androgynous, more like an ethereal creature than an earth-bound human. With the conjunction in the 5th house there’s no wonder that he can act and express himself in a very fluid way. Acting and performing musically are the specialities of the Neptune, and if enough components in the chart support the endeavor one might just become famous. The trine and sextile aspect also lend themselves well to these kind of occupations. These people can effectively gain the sympathy of the public because people recognize something of themselves – something pure and unborn, a mutual feeling.

A good example of someone with the trine aspect between Neptune and Mars is Russel Brand. He is quite the Neptunian with an angular 10th house Neptune opposing his Sun and trining his Jupiter-Mars-Moon planets in Aries. Even though he certainly has the fire and energy of an Aries Mars that can sometimes be a bit too much for people he is not only fighting for himself he is fighting for all people. In many ways he’s embodying universal hope and rage. He is fiery but also very receptive and deeply concerned with not causing any damage or hurt despite his characteristic blunt and direct approach. He has a marked religious/spiritual inclination, which is usually the case with a strong Neptune in the chart. In his early years the longing for Eden was sought through drugs, alcohol and fame, while it has now shifted to a more healthy inner exploration and focus on being of service to people. The soft aspects between Neptune and Mars-Moon-Jupiter planets in his chart helps him to cope with the disturbing Sun-Neptune opposition. In recent interviews, he admits that he still feels the pull of fame and success, yet he knows that if he goes down that path he will lose himself (his Sun) and will ultimately end up disillusioned and dissatisfied. I have the trine in my own chart, and I float aimlessly through life with the notion that things will work out and my actions will come to me, because I can’t plan or control anything. I have learnt that I have to trust the way things unfold, because I have a clear sense that my forced actions won’t lead me anywhere except to frustration and a sense of isolation. The sextile aspect seems to function a little bit more as an asset and a skill for the person to use. Politicians like Hillary Clinton, Angela Merkel and Francois Hollande all have this aspect and they can effectively use their receptivity to the masses and people in general to inform their actions.

Now to the harder aspects. Britney Spears is a good example of the dilemmas created by the Neptune-Mars square. Her Neptune squares Mars in the 12th house, the house belonging to Neptune and Pisces. Because of mental instability in her twenties she was put under a conservatorship which is essentially the equivalent of giving up personal control of one’s personal matters in order for an outside source to manage them until one gains some foothold. Mars is one of the prime factors of personal ambition and autonomy, but when it’s in the 12th it is given up – it is essentially a slave to the undifferentiated realm and subjected all the forces of the unconscious. A 12th house Mars in itself doesn’t have to produce the mess that Britney found herself in, but with it squaring Neptune, Mars is going to get swamped, mislead, confused, manipulated and subtly coerced because of the need for fusion, into doing things that will pull her further away from independent action. Another good example is Kylie Jenner. She has Neptune in her 1st house squaring Mars on the MC. She is publicly known for being part of the Kardashian-Jenner family, but she’s also gained attention because she skillfully created her own brand Kylie Cosmetics and became very “successful” (as in earning a lot of money) due to her own independent action and initiative. However, Neptune is anti-independence – and curiously enough there’s always some dishonesty involved when Neptune makes any hard aspects in the chart. She was declared the youngest self-made billionaire by Forbes in 2019, but, she has later been accused of forging tax documents to appear to be a billionaire. Neptune simply can’t let her be all that her Mars wants to be – a successful business woman with a clean record. Self-sabotage is almost always the case, however minor with this aspect, because Neptune refuses Mars’ need to be potent in the world.

The opposition creates a different dynamic although the dilemma is similar to the square. The person can be called to completely abandon an independent will to take action in favor of the glamour and blissful archetypal experience, not unlike the example of Russel Brand and his indulgence in fame and crowd-pleasing at the expense of his sense of self. The difference between having Sun opposing Neptune and Mars opposing Neptune is that in the first instance one is prone to give up a sense of self in favor of Neptune’s waters, while in the second, one feels the urge to give up the ability to direct one’s own life in order to merge with life around oneself. The opposition usually lends itself to extremism because the two polarities, in this case Mars and Neptune, can’t coexist. Queen Elizabeth II has this aspect, Mars-Jupiter in the 1st opposing Neptune in the 7th. She is on the one hand seen as an archetypal figure, immortal and divine and blissfully kept out of the real world in order to serve as a symbol and a fairytale for people to feel spiritually connected to. She’s non-aggressive, forgiving and compassionate, transcendent of the fuss of the world yet overseeing it all with care. She is essentially functioning to satisfy the religious/spiritual instinct of the masses, although it’s certainly done at the expense of her own selfish wants and needs. Luckily for her, her Mars drive is quite global and collective in nature considering that it falls in Aquarius and is conjunct Jupiter – it keeps her objective and less personal in her martial assertion. However, I’m sure she struggles with the contradiction between her own will and her role as an immortal unreality that would seem to activate itself in the interaction with other people (Neptune in the 7th). Edward Snowden also has this opposition falling in the same houses. His Mars-Sun conjunction opposes Neptune, and he famously leaked information about mass surveillance programs to the press. Neptune has everything to do with leaks and the dissolution of boundaries. He’s both been called a hero a traitor – which perfectly fits with the contradiction that the opposition represents. He certainly made a personal sacrifice by revealing the things he did so he is perfectly shouldering the martyr cape. In any case he did what he did for the public with the concern of other people in mind (Neptune 7th house) he took a non-selfish stance for the sake of a higher ideal and ethical conviction. Both Queen Elizabeth and Edward Snowden are quite extreme in their Neptunian capacity and has taken on fates of mythic magnitude.

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sweetestlamb · 3 years ago

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Flashlight

Author's note: Wasn't episode 8 just lovely? I just couldn't get this out of my head, they're becoming so dependent on each other. Be still my beating heart. They're reminding me of my MoonMun couple so much and I think that explains my obsession and the amount of fics I've written thus far lol.

Summary: Just for tonight he'll be selfish.

"Are you okay now? Is there someone there?" He moves towards the dark alley that she came bolting from looking as frightened as he's ever seen her. He feels his muscles coil ready to protect her by any means possible. But before he can move she's tightening her hold on him, clinging to him now he can feel her warmth all around him like a blanket.

"No! Don't leave me." Hearing that scared plea causes a blurry memory to resurface in his mind, he can almost feel the words swimming in his mind but the memory is foggy and it evaporates as quickly as it formed.

Strange.

"Okay, okay. I'm not going anywhere. Let's go inside." He starts to maneuver her toward her house at first she moves with him but then she stills, letting out a small sound of recollection.

"My phone." She whispers into his chest, they are pressed so closely he can feel her heartbeat still pounding through her chest into his. He strokes her back in a lazy soothing manner, shocked when she melts into his embrace further. Nothing is making sense at this moment but he doesn't care enough to stop, this.

"What about your phone?" He redirects the conversation and she continues, "I dropped it in there when I ran away."

"Okay. I'll go get it, wait here." He starts to gently untangle her hands from his flannel but she lets out a whine, gripping his shirt even stronger and moving with him.

"I'll---let's go together."

She's trembling now, positively shaking in her spot and he wants to argue with her to just go inside and wait for him but her earlier plea echoes in his ears. He can't leave her alone not right now, so he steps forward feeling her move with him, one step after another until he sees the rectangular object on the ground.

"I'm going to bend down to get it." He can feel her shifting beside him looking around wildly but thankfully no ominous figure appears, they are alone.

After a moment she nods, letting go enough for him to bend and retrieve the device and he checks the screen noting happily that it's not damaged but when he touches the screen it doesn't turn on so he tries again.

"It's dead. I forgot to charge it." She admits, taking the phone from his grasp.

He turns to her with a sharp stare, "You stayed out late after what happened and didn't charge your phone? Are you that fearless?" He chides, frustrated with her lack of awareness and disregard for her safety. If anything ever happened to her he would.... He would.......

"It wasn't on purpose. I didn't realize. I know it was irresponsible."

It's not a response he's expecting, the Hye Jin he knows would argue back, hardly taking shit from him ergo her meek uncharacteristic reply makes him feel worst, he shouldn't be blaming her especially after seeing first-hand how scared she is.

"Let's go inside now, it's cold and you're shaking." They both know the temperature has very little to do with her tremors but she doesn't disagree and carelessly he enters the code when they reach the door, ignoring the jolt in his chest that erupts as he enters his own birthday and the door clicks open. He thought she would have changed it by now.

He's grateful she hasn't.

They both take off their shoes, standing side by side now her arm around his waist and his around her shoulder. It's a small space and they can barely move but they work around it, reluctant to release each other.

"Thank you." Her voice is barely above a whisper, he thinks that he almost imagined it. He had an excuse prepared this time, he was merely patrolling and happened to pass her house. That was the lie he intended to go with, but something in her voice stops him from saying those deceitful words. He's tired of hiding and making up excuses for being around her.

"You're welcome. Here sit down, I'll make you some tea." Thoughtlessly he moves towards the kitchen, taking two steps until he can't move anymore. She's holding onto him tightly, he turns around looking at her small closed fists and then her trembling pretty face.

With a soft sigh, he takes her hand rubbing a thumb across the smooth skin.

"Just come with me." Immediately she steps forward pressing into his back, he tries to calm his heart taking the teapot and filling it with water, then he opens the cabinet retrieving a mug and setting it aside.

"I like honey. And a squeeze of lemon." He smiles at her soft demands.

Now that sounds more like his dentist. The bottle of honey is in her top cabinet and he grabs a fresh lemon from the fridge cutting it in half.

They stand silently as the water boils and he finally feels his anger boiling away as well. Angry that he was almost too late and that his town isn't safe anymore, angry that someone was able to shake this immoveable woman.

The shrill ringing of the teapot breaks him from his impasse, on autopilot he pours the water on the tea bag, then squeezes the honey in the steaming water, "I like a lot of honey." She's attached to his back her voice vibrating straight through him, he freezes when she wraps her arms around his waist. Her closeness is messing with his mind, but he tries to finish his job and get them on the couch maybe with some distance between them.

For his sanity.

"Let's go sit down." He grabs both mugs walking over to her couch, placing her cup on the far right and taking a seat on the far left putting a sea of distance between them. But immediately she sits down right next to him, leaving no space between them she might as well be in his lap. He squirms in place, standing up to get some reprieve but she grabs his hand staring up at him.

"Where are you going?" Fear bleeds into her voice and he lets go of his hesitations, tonight is not about him.

Leaning over he grabs her cup, tugging it closer.

"Nowhere, I'm not going anywhere. Drink your tea."

She blinks slowly at him before nodding and bringing the warm beverage to her lips. Her hum of satisfaction warms him all the way down to his toes.

"It's good. You really are good at everything." He preens at the compliment, thinking of all the times this week he wasn't needed or was cast aside for Director Ji. He's been swallowing his jealousy all week. So her words fill a hollow space in his chest.

He watches her drink the entire cup, ignoring his own growing cold on the table.

"I need to charge my phone." She suddenly says and he stares before nodding, taking the opportunity to drink his lukewarm tea. But then he notices that she's not moving despite having the phone and charging in her hand.

"What's wrong?" He raises an eyebrow in confusion.

She looks embarrassed now, unable to meet his eyes and he's flabbergasted at her reaction.

"Come with me?" He stares at her, feeling the same pride bloom as when she sat next to him instead of her sunbae, she's leaning on him.

He spots an outlet across the room, "Okay let's go there." She looks relieved at his lack of teasing, together they walk over to the outlet and she bends to plug in the charger and puts the phone on the ground.

In seconds the phone comes to life and he feels a sharp pain in his chest as a barrage of messages light up her phone, the majority from one person. When she clicks to open the message he instinctively looks away, not wanting to witness their conversation.

"He messaged so much." Her voice is filled with awe and childishly he moves away. He'd almost forgotten that she didn't actually need him. He was just conveniently there.

"I should go now. You're safe. Make sure to come home earlier from now on, maybe ask him to walk you home." It hurts to utter those words but it's easier than being replaced later, it's okay if he's the one that pushes her away first. "I'll see myself out."

He stands ready to leave, pointedly not looking back before he changes his mind and stays forever.

She was just scared, tonight didn't mean anything.

He grabs his fallen bagpack thrusting it on his shoulder, hopping into his boots all ready to head out. But it's unusually quiet, the silence is so deafening that he can't stop himself from looking back over at her. It's a mistake, a huge one at that. The phone has fallen from her hands, abandoned to the side and she's looking at him with the most desolate stare he's ever seen, moisture pooling in her huge round eyes.

"What's wrong? Why are you cry--"

"You said you wouldn't leave me. Why are you changing your mind? What if someone is still there? What am I supposed to do without yo--u?" Her voice cracks on the last word and his heart follows, she needs him. Nobody else has this week but here she is breaking down because he tried to leave, she needs him.

His decision is made for him in that moment.

As soon as he's close enough to touch she's clinging to him once again, he only absently realizes that she's trying to lead them to her bedroom but even he's not saintly enough for that so he stops her.

"Let's go to the couch. You'll feel more comfortable."

She doesn't question him seemingly happy to follow his lead.

The couch is comfy but definitely not intended for two grown adults, leaning over the arm rest he tries to get situated and once he stops moving she's snuggling into his side curling around him like a cat.

"Whenever I was scared, my mom used to stroke my hair."

He stares at the wall in front of them, wondering if she's aware of just how many lines they're crossing tonight- no catapulting over. But he's tired of second guessing himself so he stops thinking and just listens, bringing the hand that is curled on her shoulder up to her head before dragging his palm down her soft hair, gulping when she moans at the ministrations.

Her breathing starts to deepen and he feels her body losing its tension, she's falling asleep and once she succumbs he can finally make his escape, that's his plan. But he doesn't expect her to start stroking him too, her hand delicate on his chest.

"You've worked hard. Stopping a scammer and saving me all while recovering from a cold."

It's nothing. It's what he's supposed to do.

But it feels so good to hear those words, words that he hardly heard growing up.

"Go to sleep." He says instead of thank you, instead of kissing her like he's wanted to since he saw her outside and she ran straight into his heart.

It's a miracle but she listens to him, drifting to sleep her head heavy on his chest and he knows that he should wait a few minutes and try to extract himself but he can't, not tonight. Just for tonight he'll be selfish.

"You're making me want all sorts of things." He whispers to her sleeping face, terrified of her and all that she makes him feel. Feeling emboldened by their almost kiss initiated by her, he pushes her hair behind her ear taking a second to really looking at her face. She really is that beautiful. It doesn't seem fair. Leaning down he presses a soft kiss to her forehead, her skin is sleep warm and perfectly smooth. He presses a second one shamelessly. Her lips are right there and heavens knows that he's tempted but he can't take advantage, can't bring himself to do anything else. That's enough.

He doesn't know when he fell asleep but he wakes up to Mi-seon throwing a blanket over them, he keeps his eyes tightly shut mentally berating himself for that leaving when he had a chance.

"Just friends my ass. Just admit that you like him, look at the way you're clinging to him."

Somehow they traversed further down the couch in their sleep, both laying horizontal now with her body on top on his and her head tucked under his chin.

"I've never seen her sleep so peacefully though. She looks so young."

He tries not to think too deeply into what that might mean, listening to the retreating footsteps of her roommate and feeling himself losing the battle with sleep. She'll probably be embarrassed to find them this way tomorrow but that's a hurdle for another day.

Just for tonight I'll hold her. Until I'm not allowed to hold her anymore.

#hometown cha cha cha #another episode coda #hong du shik #yoon hye jin #they are taking over all my brain activity #another fluffy drabble #this episode broke me

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miwtze · 4 years ago

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distance (ushijima wakatoshi x reader)

cw: depression, intrusive thoughts, ushi might be ooc idk

wc: 1.9k of utter dogshit i HATE this

distance wasn’t uncommon between you and ushijima. you knew ushijima had to focus on volleyball and he knew you had times where you were unable to attend to yourself much less him. maybe that’s why you two have lasted as long as you did, you weren’t suited for love but neither was he, so you thought that maybe you guys would have a chance. he called mutual respect, and while that might be true to some extent, to you it just felt like he settled with you for convenience. you weren’t stupid. you knew that like everyone else in this world, ushijima craved affection but that was the extent of his relationship. you believed he did not need to love you. in fact he probably couldn’t. you were not loveable. how could another love a person so void of life; of course they couldn’t. you loved him but he didn't love you. you thought maybe that was enough for you, but as a human you’re selfish. you want your own form of comfort and if that means ending things with ushijima after six years of dating then so be it. as your gentle fingers continue to thread bead after bead through the wire, you wonder if your relationship between you and ushijima would snap like the thin wire in between your finger. you’re pulled from your thoughts when you hear the front door open. when ushijima pops his head out of the hall way and into the living room you greet him.

“hey, welcome back.” ushijima looks as beat up as you feel; sunken in eyes and dried sweat on his forehead. “i didn’t think you’d be back so soon, do you want me to make dinner while you shower?”

“hello.” he looks down at the beads in your hands, frowning. he knows they’re the same kind you had strung together for him when you confessed to him at 18, the same one he adorns on his wrist like an olympic medal. “did you do anything all day except play with beads?” he didn’t mean to come off like that, he wanted to talk but he didn’t know how to go about it. his indifference only made the statement come off worse, he knew this, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak up. ushijima was tired, no he was exhausted. he wanted to help you but he couldn’t cross the distance to meet you. not when your empty eyes are waiting for him on the other side.

“so no dinner then.” you want him to object. you want him to tell you that he wants to eat dinner with you, to talk to you. you want something, anything. you want ushijima wakatoshi to love you because you don’t want to leave.

“yeah no dinner tonight.”

“c’mon we haven’t hung out in forever. let’s go out and drink, it’s fine if you start crying. we all miss you,” your friend begs on the other end of the line. “i’ll come get you at six, yeah? yeah?” you smile, it felt nice knowing your presence was wanted even if it was for a little bit.

“yeah i’ll be ready at six.” you hear your friend excitedly end the call as you flop onto the bed. you need to go out. you knew it wasn’t good for you to stay inside and mope about how unloved you were. you knew you had to try just a little more, just for yourself. the little steps you had been making the couple years like cleaning your clothes, eating , going to classes, doing the works seemed completely mundane but it helped you help yourself. if nothing else you wanted to try and cross the distance yourself, maybe with ushijima on the other side maybe not.

by the time six rolls around you’ve showered and dressed up to the nines. you’ve never felt as pretty as you did in that moment and you think it has something to do with wanting to be better and much less the wings on your eyelids. as you fall into your friend’s car you’re greeted with two more of your friends and a bottle of alcohol. we’re pre-gaming before we drink some more at ayasski’s, they explain. giggling you join them getting inebriated and melting into the arms of your friends. as the night gets longer, your friends gently probe you about ushijima knowing you well enough to know something wasn’t okay.

“i think it’s kind of stupid to be in a relationship where someone can’t love you,” you giggle the blush reaching up to your cheeks. “i love him so, so, so much so i have to break up with him. i know he’s not happy with me.” you friends wrap their arms around you, booing.

“it’s his loss there’s literally no reason to not be happy with you,” you friend shouted, you could disagree ten times over. the hope that blossomed in your chest earlier today’s as completely shot down when you realized you weren’t a person meant to get better. you tossed another shot back. “but he seemed really happy when we saw you two at your graduation last year.”

“it’s been a year. what does it even matter, we got together to party not talk about my problems,” you laugh pulling them from the kitchen into the living room. you spend the night talking catching up, telling them about your first year at the company you work for, how much you missed them, about how much you missed ushijima (you couldn’t help it you were tipsy). you realize how much you've missed talking to someone about trivial matters. you missed having no distance with people. how did things get so far away with ushijima you wonder.

at some point you black out and when you finally come around you’re tucked into your friend’s bed sandwiched between your friends. you gently untangle yourself from them and wash up in the bathroom. the cold water pulling you from your drowsiness and straight into the deep end of the nastiest hangover you’ve probably ever had. “wake up losers, i'm making breakfast for our nasty ass hangovers,” you yawn as you make your way out of the bedroom. your friends shuffle around groaning telling you to shut up and we’ll be there in a bit. shuffling around the kitchen you begin making pancakes and as you wait for the batter to cook you pick up your phone. your stomach drops when you realize you have three missed calls and a couple texts from ushijima. you forgot to tell him you were going out, you honestly didn’t think he would care.

[wakatoshi ♡]

8:18 pm | I’m going to be home late today. Don’t worry about dinner.

8:18 pm | I’ll make something when I get home.

it’s not lost on you that he texted you he wouldn’t be home at an angel number. the universe was playing its jokes on you but you can’t seem to find the humor.

[wakatoshi ♡]

11:24 pm | Did you go out?

11:36 pm | When will you be home?

12:01 am | Please be quiet when you return home. Goodnight.

you laugh at his punctualness, identifiable even through text. as your friends file in and fill themselves up, you head out beginning your trek home. by the time you get home your feet hurt almost as much as your head. you bend over to free your feet from the shackles of your stupid fucking heels. “objectively i would’ve looked just as pretty with a pair of flats,” you grumble rubbing the budding blisters on your feet.

“you’re pretty in general so i doubt your attractiveness changes depending on what footwear you wear.” you snap your head up, blinking owlishly at ushijima. he places his hand out in front of you waiting for you to take it. when you do, he pulls you up and into his arms carrying you into the room. you really don’t know how to react, especially with your brain pounding for a whole new reason. cautiously, you turn your head to look up at ushijima as he sets you down, leaning up to place a kiss on his chin. you wait for a reaction, a response, anything you can get but all he does is turn around and walk out. it was as if he tied the beaded bracelet on your wrist just to yank it off.

you can’t help but sob into a pillow, what else were you supposed to do. you built yourself up to leave him only to be broken down by the tiniest bit of affection. ushijima had his hands around your throat and you couldn’t get it off you no matter what you did. you loved him so much, you couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t love you back. your throat constricted, your sobs got heavy. you froze when you heard the bedroom door open. you could’ve sworn you’ve been crying for ages but only a couple minutes had passed. you held your breath as ushijima sat next to you, running his fingers through your hair. your heart beat pitifully and tears began to spill through your eyelashes again. you’re so fucking stupid, berating yourself never once allowing yourself to consider the feelings ushijima tried to awkwardly convey to you. “what happened? did something happen when you went out?” you sob louder. how could he be so unaware. “it was me wasn’t it.” you froze. “i actually would like to talk about this so when you’re calmer, may we?” you whisper out a simple yes in return feeling the nasty rope of anxiety tie knots in your stomach.

your thoughts spiraled, what did he want to talk about, did he really not love you, were you really just a small rock in the middle of his garden, were you something much more disgusting to him. he pulls you out of your thoughts just as quickly as he dropped you in them. quite literally. he pulls you onto his lap tucking your head into his chest and wraps his arm around your waist, playing with your hair once again. you two stay like that for what feels like decades. you can’t remember the last time you felt like he wanted to be around you, much less a time where he held you. gentle you pull away from his chest to face your unnerving anxieties.

“h-hey,” you whisper gently. you don’t miss the way his eyes soften at your voice. he doesn’t know how long it’s been since he’s heard your voice for something other than small talk. he missed your warmth, your voice, he missed you. so much. ushijima wanted to do better for you. when you seem to gain your resolve you finally give voice to the anxieties that planted it’s nasty seed in your thoughts. “have you ever loved me?” before you can get a response you continue, “i know i’m not lovable but are you with me for convenience. do you just deal with me? do i burden you with-”

“i am absolutely enthralled by you but i have no clue how to go about it.” he takes your face in the palm of his hands, brushing your tears away. “i want to try and do better. our distance is growing and i don’t like it at all. i understand we don’t have the most convenient relationship but i don’t want to end it because you mean so much to me.”

“i don’t want to end it either. i know it’s hard. i know it is, but you really think we could do it?” he smiles at you and it was as if a wall was broken down, not a big one but one that you had set up so you wouldn’t acknowledge ushijima or his feelings towards you.

“i know we can.”

#/ushijima #tw depression #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima x y/n #haikyuu x y/n #haikyu x reader #haikyu x y/n #im in the nastiest mood ever i literally wanna fucken die #enjoy this or dont #ily please drink water

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harryspet · 5 years ago

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rogue angel [1] bucky barnes

[Warnings] dark bucky x reader, forced (noncon) age regression, daddy bucky, kidnapping/abduction, drugging, mild violence, hydra reader, post endgame bucky, dd lg dynamic (future ab dl?), wetting, pacifier

A/N: This one has a super taboo dynamic so forewarning! I’m trying something out that I’m into and I want to know if my readers like it too! I’ll continue if I get some good feedback. Reader is 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

In which Bucky tasks himself with deprogramming you, a former hydra soldier.

series masterlist

word count: 3.3k

You were the Rogue Angel and you were completely unhinged.

You went off the radar when Hydra was destroyed but, without the guidance of your commanders, you lost control. With no orders from the evil organization, your new identity was crumbling around you. You killed when you felt threatened. You robbed and stole to survive and to keep yourself hidden from the agencies tracking you.

You were only a child when they stole you from your family and reprogrammed you into a super-soldier. They taught you to use your youth and beauty in order to do their bidding. You never had a chance to be innocent. Still, the world wanted you dead for all the deaths you were responsible for but Bucky thought you could be saved. You could learn to be good just like he did.

Bucky was familiar with being a fugitive. He was risking a lot by going after you especially since he was going behind the governments back once again.

You had decided to “lay low” in the East End of London, “renting” an apartment sat above a convenience store, and you had little idea that Bucky was watching you. It confirmed his suspicions that you had gone off the rails and it was even interfering with your normal training. Back in the days when he was brainwashed, it would’ve taken him seconds to realize someone was trailing him and a few more seconds to kill them.

As you left the apartment one day, Bucky noted your erratic behavior. You even fumbled with your keys as you locked your door. As soon as you disappeared down the rough streets of the East End, Bucky made his way into your apartment. He didn’t bother with keys, knowing the strength of his arm could push it open easily.

He forced it open enough just to crack it, then his eyes trailed down to make sure there wasn’t any tripwire. There was and part of him was a little relieved that you weren't completely unprotected. Normally, he wouldn’t doubt that you could protect yourself, but without hydra commands, it worried him.

He maneuvered himself over the wire before shutting the door and carefully dismantling the wire that was attached to an explosive. He wondered who exactly had sold you the parts to build it. Checking for more booby traps, Bucky made his way around the apartment. It reminded him of the time he spent in Bucharest, trying to understand his relationship with Steve and why exactly he had pulled him from the water.

There was a small mattress in the corner and only a few knick knacks to decorate the barren run-down apartment. He found money shoved into a jar in one of the cabinets, currencies from all over Europe, and a large map tucked away. Bucky quickly noted that you had mapped out a few Hydra locations around the world.

Bucky sighed, folding up the map, realizing you were going to try to find another Hydra factor to join. As far as he knew, they had all been destroyed and you’d only get yourself caught by a government agency going on this scavenger hunt.

“I’ll blow your head off if you take another step,” Bucky knew you were behind him as soon as he heard your small voice. You were trying your best to deepen your feminine voice but Bucky could tell it was only an act.

Bucky moved to turn around until you shouted, “Don’t!”

You hadn’t shot him yet which raised Bucky’s suspicions, “I’m putting my hands up,” Bucky decided to test the theory developing in his mind. He slowly raised his hands and you got a glimpse of the gold and black that was his left arm.

You knew who he was as soon as you got a glimpse of his face. The Winter Soldier. You racked your brain for more information about him but all you could remember was that he had betrayed Hydra. He used to be like you.

Bucky took in your appearance, the way you skillfully held your pistol, but also the darkness around your eyes, “Who sent you?” He could tell you had recently cut your hair to be shoulder length and, whatever clothes you had purchased, were from the men’s section.

“No one,” Bucky answered monotonously, “I’m not here to turn you in.”

You were quiet for a moment. Looking over him, you realized that so much had changed since you had last heard about him. His hair was cut short and he even had a new arm.

“Then you’re from Hydra?”

You sounded … hopeful, “They’ve been destroyed, Y/N.”

You blinked, staring, before gripping your gun tighter, “That’s not my name.”

Bucky took a step forward and you only narrowed your eyes at him, “It is,” Bucky continued, “You were five when Hydra started experimenting on you. Ten when they started using you in the field. They killed your family and then made sure you’d never remember then.”

You faltered and Bucky took a step closer. You closed your eyes, shaking your head, before lunging towards him, “You’re lying!” You lunged towards him but Bucky was too fast as he sidestepped.

His arms were still raised in defense, “I’m not here to hurt you either, Y/N.”

“Don’t call me that!” Your finger pressed down on the trigger but Bucky’s movement were sudden, pushing your wrist and grabbing a hold of the barrel as he tilted it away. This led to you wrestling for the weapon. You were still strong, capable of superhuman abilities, but you were weaker without Hydra.

Bucky pinned your to the ground, sliding the gun away, and it hit the wall with a clang. You continued to fight although it was futile against his vibranium hand. He pinned your legs with his own, keeping you from kicking at him.

There was nothing but anger in your eyes, pure venom, “I’ll kill you, traitor. I’ll kill you and everyone you care about-”

Bucky shushed you, reaching into his pocket to grab a syringe, “Everything’s going to be okay,” Bucky was still learning to be gentle too and he’d get even more practice in the coming days. You flinched away but only exposed your neck more. Bucky took the opportunity to sink the needle into your neck.

Bucky began to loosen some of the pressure he was using to keep you pinned down. He watched as your body began to slump and you tried to blink your eyes in order to keep yourself awake, “You’ll pay … for this,” Her voice trailed off before you quietly whispered, “Winter … Soldier …”

Bucky’s lips pressed into a thin line as he watched you float away into a dreamless sleep, “I’m sure I will.”

You awoke in unfamiliar surroundings. Of course, everything was unfamiliar to you these days, but you had an especially bad feeling this time. You turned your head, your eyelids heavy as you blinked them open. You saw a blue sky and clouds. A supposedly peaceful scene but what was peace to you anyways? You felt nothing. Death and destruction were peaceful to you.

You turned your head to realize you weren't outside, looking up at the sky. Her eyes met with a tan leather chair and, as you continued to look around, you realized that you were sitting on an airplane. A private one.

Panic began to set in as you looked down at your body, a soft blanket covering it and keeping you warm. You lifted your arms but they shook, weak from whatever sedative was in your system. It took all your energy to throw that blanket off and everything else you had to crawl out of the chair. Well, it was more so a fall.

You grunted as you collided with the floor and Bucky finally looked up from where he was standing by the cockpit.

You realized that your legs were completely asleep as you tried to pull your body up. You turned onto your back with a wince, poking at your barren legs. You couldn’t even feel them.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Bucky approached the scene, realizing that you had fallen from your seat. He didn’t expect you to awake this soon or even have enough energy to try to hurt yourself. As soon as you saw him, you tried crawling away, pulling your limp legs with you. Bucky grabbed you by underneath your arms, against your protest, and lifted your back into the leather chair.

“Don’t,” you moaned, your voice weak too but it was useless. Bucky continued to sit you up, reaching behind you to buckle you into the seat.

“There, that’s better,” Bucky looked over his work, his hands on his hips, “You shouldn’t try to walk for awhile, Y/N.”

“What did you do?” You asked, barely able to raise your voice higher than a whisper.

“It’s easier this way,” Bucky said simply. Easier for him to keep you from escaping and for you to start to depend on him as your caregiver. He took a seat in the leather chair in front of you, lifting some mechanism that brought up a small table.

You looked down to see your legs were bare and you trailed your shaking hands up to your stomach to find soft pink fabric. Moving your hand down, you felt the soft white fabric of your panties. He had undressed you and that made you grow even more frustrated.

Bucky brought out a manila folder, flipping through its content before grabbing pictures and setting them on the table in front of you. You saw a mother and father sitting on a picnic blanket, a baby girl in their hands. The next photo was a young girl with her grandmother. They were cooking some dessert in the kitchen. Something in that little girl's eyes gave you a sense of familiarity.

“Do you recognize them?”

You shook your head and Bucky started to add even more photos. The girl seemed to get happier with each photo and you continuously shook your head.

“This was your family, Y/N.”

“And I’m … s-supposed to believe m-my . . . kidnapper,” You hated how weak you felt. Sure, you had made thousands of people bend to your will and tortured them until they told you what you wanted. Unlike you, Bucky’s motives seemed personal.

“Your Daddy,” Bucky corrected, “You’ll refer to me that way from now on.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “You crazy-”

“I won’t punish you here,” Bucky interrupted, collecting the pictures and putting them back into the confidential file, “But when we’re truly alone … I have a feeling you’ll find out.”

He wanted to be loving and caring with her. To make her feel like finally someone, other than Hydra, is looking out for her. Still, he’d have to train the bad behavior out of her.

“Where are we going?”

“America,” He was a man of a few words, you noticed. You were hoping for something a little more specific. If you knew then you could track down some former Hydra bases.

“Where’s my weapon?”

He only chuckled, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Whose plane is this?”

“My friends.”

As you opened your mouth to ask something else, a stewardess approached, carrying a tray in her hand, “Your bourbon, Mr. Barnes,” She set down the alcoholic drink and flashed the woman a thankful smile, “And for you, Ms. Barnes.”

You scowled at her, wondering if she was in on all of this, “I’m not-”

“Thank you, this is her favorite snack. Could you close the curtain for us, doll.”

“How cute,” The stewardess blushed, walking away, “Of course, Mr. Barnes.”

A white curtain was closed, blocking the two of you away from the front of the plane. You looked down at the table to see baby carrots, apple slices, chicken nuggets, and a juice box, “You should eat. We have a lot of time left before we arrive.”

“I’m not a baby,” Bucky took a sip from his glass.

“I’d have to disagree.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but instead, you slouched back in your seat, “There’s a good amount of time left on the flight,” Bucky continued.

“I’m not hungry,” You lied.

Bucky only shrugged, knowing that you were dealing with the battle going on in your mind. You wanted to be taken care of, he knew that, but your conditioning wouldn’t allow you to think that way.

You didn't touch the food, as Bucky expected, even as the flight continued for five hours. You’d experienced worst torture before. This was nothing. You could starve yourself to death if you wanted to but Bucky would just end up force-feeding you.

“Are you sure?” Bucky asked you again.

“I. Don’t. Have. To,” You explained again, though you could feel your bladder was painfully full.

“I won’t look, I promise.”

You shut your eyes tight and shook your head again.

Bucky sighed, standing from his chair, “Let’s get you dressed then, little one. We’re landing soon,” Your eyes widened as he walked to the chairs across from yours, a baby blue backpack sitting in the chair. It had the first initial of your name sewed into the front. He pulled out a pair of floral printed overalls, frilly socks, and pink Converse.

He laid out the blanket that was wrapped around you when you awoke. He undid your seatbelt and your struggling commenced as he lifted you into his arms, setting you down on the blanket, He lifted your legs, sliding on the outfit as you landed futile hits against his back, “If you ate your snacks, you might have more energy,” He was baby-talking you, “Maybe your hits would be more effective, little one.”

Little? You weren’t little. You could kill him if you just … just got your strength back.

He snapped the overalls into place, easily maneuvering your body. Next was the socks and shoes. You were sure you looked like an overgrown barbie doll. He wasn’t finished though as he pulled out another item from the bag. It was blue, leather, and reminded you of a choker. Instead … it had a white binkie built into it. You struggled the most as he forced it into your mouth, locking it around your head. You reached your hand to find the mechanism that closed it but it seemed to be a magnetic lock.

Bucky admired his work, grinning, as he put you back into your seat. The plane’s descent began shortly after that.

No one seemed to mind that a grown man was carrying you, a grown woman, like a child. Bucky thanked the pilot and the stewardess as if he was a totally sane person. Despite you pushing at his chest, he wrapped your legs around him and carried you down the steps of the plane. The gag muffled whatever curses you were spewing at him.

The sun was setting now at the private airport and you looked around for any sign of what state you could be in.

A sleek, black car was parked beside the plane and a blonde woman emerged as you and Bucky made your way to the bottom of the stairs, “You work fast, Barnes,” The woman spoke. She was dressed in a dark pantsuit, her hair straight as a pin. She looked you over, noting how different you looked from all the photos that were in your file.

You turned your head away from her, your cheeks heating up in embarrassment. You mentally cursed, angry at Bucky for putting you in this situation but you were more upset with yourself than anything.

“You have to when you’re starting from scratch,” Bucky answered, seeming to be on relatively good terms with the woman, “You have what I asked for?”

Sharon handed Bucky an envelope, “Sam thinks you’ve lost your mind.”

You felt Bucky shrug, “What’s new?”

Maybe this Sam person would help you escape. Bucky opened the back door to the car, setting you inside and buckling your seatbelt for you. As soon as he closed the door, you started fidgeting with the gag in your mouth that was forcing you to suck on a pacifier.

You were gaining some of your strength back, you could even move your left leg a little, but it wasn’t enough. Bucky was partially right, you probably would be stronger if you’d eaten the food. And now that your bladder was about to explode, you had too many things overwhelming your senses. Bucky got in the passenger seat and soon Sharon was driving them off.

You tuned yourself out of their conversation, deciding you should map out your surroundings. As you sit up to look out the window, you watch for significant landmarks that would mark your location. Your plan was foolproof except for the fact that it seemed you were completely in the middle of nowhere. You passed no cars on the road and, as the airport went out of sight, both sides of the road were covered by evergreens.

That meant you were either in the North West or Bucky had lied about even being in America.

It made your brow furrow. How could he have chosen such a perfect location? You had underestimated him. Clearly, the Winter Soldier used his new resources wisely. If only you had time to get back on your feet after Hydra.

The car pulled up to a two-story cabin, a red truck sitting outside in the driveway.

“Welcome home, Y/N,” You realized that you had zoned out when you felt Bucky undoing your seatbelt. He took you into his arms again and you wrapped your arms around his neck, only for balance.

There wasn’t some big fence or electric wires. It was just a quaint little house.

“I’ll see you soon, Barnes,” Sharon waved her goodbyes, and Bucky watched as the car backed away.

When the car was out of sight, he turned to you, “You’d like Daddy to give you a tour, wouldn’t you?”

You only scowled at him, as much as you could with the gag on. Your baby bag on his back and you strapped to his hip, he carried you inside. As he did, you felt another part of your freedom slipping away.

He carried you around the cozy home, through the living room and dining room, baby-talking you as he explained small items. The walls were a light beige, the floors a dark wood, and there seemed to be bookshelves made into all of the furniture items.

Bucky had brought you into the kitchen which surprisingly had stainless steel appliances. The thought of eating flooded your mind but you pushed it down. Before, you could completely clear the thoughts from your mind. Now, your mind was a mess of conflicting thoughts.

Suddenly, there was a loud bark, causing Bucky to pause before he smiled a bit. He set you down on the counter, your limp legs hanging down, “Wait for Daddy for one moment.”

You didn’t acknowledge his command, only watched him slip out the backdoor connected to the kitchen. As soon as he disappeared, you slowly started to ease yourself off the counter. It was a far jump, one that he probably wasn’t expecting you to attempt.

Your whole lower half was still numb but you felt it as one of your shoes touched the floor. You were relieved, holding onto the counter tightly as you tried the next leg. There was still little feeling but, if you took a moment to practice, maybe you could make it.

“Y/N?” You were so focused on the task that he had startled you. You almost fell but Bucky was there to catch you. In a swift movement, he was holding you as you pressed against the kitchen counter.

You felt tears stinging in your eyes as Bucky looked down. You felt the warmness running down your leg and pooling by your feet, ruining the new outfit he had put you in. You’d been so frightened that ...

You can’t cry.

Weak.

You can’t be weak.

You started to hyperventilate, anger and frustration boiling over.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, angel. It was just an accident,” Bucky spoke soothingly. You couldn’t even look him in the eyes. He knew you wouldn’t be able to hold it in for so long and he should’ve forced you to go earlier. Still, it gave him an excuse to comfort you, “Daddy’s gonna get you all cleaned up, don’t worry.”

Being without hydra had made him weak, you thought, and it looked like the same thing would happen to you.

Let me know if you’d like to read a second part of this story! I know this type of dynamic isn’t for everybody. Check out my master list for more of my dark marvel fics.

update: both chapter 2 and 3 are posted :)

#dark fic #dark bucky barnes #dark bucky x reader #bucky barnes #dark!bucky #dark!bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barns imagine #marvel #dark marvel #avengers x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #marvel smut #mcu fanfiction #mcu x reader #mcu smut #florence pugh

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caguaydreams · 4 years ago

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A thorough analysis on why Vah Medoh’s dungeon theme makes me want to cry

Yep, that’s an accurate title. Hi there! do you have a moment to hear about Breath of The Wild soundtrack? posting for yet a third time in hopes that tumblr won't hide it. I'm so tired

What started as a quick and harmless post, pretending to simply point out a couple of things, rolled downhill, out of my grasp and turned into a massive snowball of a short essay. How and why did this happen? Well, I assume a lot of people know about this song, and know what I’m talking about when I say that it makes me tear up and sob uncontrollably with every change in key as the seconds tick by and I spiral down into a dwell of misery from where I struggle to find the exit and to later recover.

……No?…..At the VERY LEAST it makes you a little uncomfortable. And I state this with much certainty, because after reading hundreds of comments everywhere online where this song is present, I picked up on a vast majority of people who expressed to feel the same way I did when it came down to our current music subject. See, statistics don’t lie… normally. So, naturally, my intrigue got the best of me. I wanted to find out exactly why this soundtrack was mercilessly stirring up everyone’s emotions, so I caved in and we ended up with this.

Buckle in, fellas.

Out of all Divine Beasts’ dungeon themes, Vah Medoh’s is the one that I can’t sit through. Not without growing antsy and wanting to turn it off as soon as possible. I find it genuinely difficult to listen to, and it’s not only because Revali is my favorite character and the song is just, plainly put, depressing, mind you.

We’ll start from 0 terminals activated.

It opens up similar to the other three dungeon themes; the pace is slow but eerie, gives off the impression that it sounds broken somehow. Something is off here, and it’s easy to figure out what that is from the get go: you’re basically entering a majestic, ancient, mechanical mausoleum, where everything went terribly wrong a century ago. Someone is gone, someone you knew, someone who was probably close to you, but it’s impossible to be sure. You don’t remember a thing, and this entire ordeal is confusing at best, and terrifying at worst. It’s your duty to make things right again.

It’s the same for all four Divine Beasts upon entering, save for the obvious little differences that separates them from each other and make them unique. Ruta’s is played on a major key, adhering to a sense of hopefulness. Naboris’s begins with a startling smashing of the piano keys, much like thunder of a sudden lighting strike. And Rudania’s theme starts threatening, dangerous, like scalding lava.

But now, back to Vah Medoh. The tone here is… alienating. The dissonant chords are all over the place, and feel disconnected, cold. It’s almost as if someone doesn’t want us to be here, or just like the elusive key, our presence is unexpected. Fitting, for a Divine Beast that’s high above the land, impossible for most to reach, yet we somehow made it. Apart from the piano, we have the occasional hint to rito culture, in the shape of a short, synthetic version of the rolled chords at the very beginning of Rito Village. A quiet reminder of where we come from. There is also, of course, the morse code distress signal, but we’ll talk more about that later.

As soon as this formal introduction is over, we finally get to the more, say, intimate stuff. Oh, and wouldn’t you know, it’s just tragic.

One terminal activated.

There’s no better short way I can describe this passage, other than anxiety-inducing. Especially when the strings come into play, and there’s two reasons I can think of why I feel this is an important thing to point out:

1- Characters and Symbolism.

I tend to associate stringed instruments, all of those which compose the violin family, with rito culture. And Revali, most specifically. In Creating a Champion we can see the early concept art and designs for all or most major characters in the game, and Revali’s highlighted rough design might be the one that changed the most throughout proper development of the character, out of all champions. He looks quite different from our usual depiction of him, it’s fascinating. What truly catches my eye, however, is the design of his bow.

You thought bird puns were bad? Oh boy, how do you feel about Revali having a bow that looks like a violin/cello/viola??? And do you need a bow to play it also??? Like, is it even an instrument or it’s nothing more than a mere fashion statement?-

Anyway. I believe this was originally going to be a not-so-subtle wink to rito culture, being heavily musically inclined as we can see and conclude for ourselves. Perhaps Revali was going to be a musician as well, now how cool it that!

Needless to say, the idea was eventually scrapped. But one detail I am CERTAIN carried over to the character we know and love today(okay not all of us love him but seriously if you dislike him why are you still here lol): strings. The association between bows(weapon) and stringed instruments, aside from being a quite clever and creative one, goes beyond the concept art and remains strong as part of Revali’s character, settling for having a presence via score. After all, Revali is a master of archery, so in that way it makes sense to keep strings as symbolism to reinforce the idea and drive it home.

But can you guess what other thing Revali excels at? That’s right: flying. He’s the only rito we know of who successfully managed to take advantage of wind currents and bend them to his will. And do you know what musical instruments are often used to evoke the feeling of flight and gale? If you thought of bowed strings, you’re correct! Unfortunately, I couldn’t find much support on this topic online, so you’ll have to take my word for it. I am most certain that this is fact, although not something worth discussing on the Internet, by the looks of it.

Anyhow, violins/cellos/etc are ever-present whenever we’re close to Rito Village or dealing with a rito related mission. Attack on Vah Medoh, for example, features a sequence of strings that is meant to evoke the strong winds we’re fighting against in that particular moment(*). Another great example is The Final Trial, the song that plays at the shrine of resurrection nearing the end of the Champions’ Ballad. Preceding the activation of each terminal, you’ll notice that a new instrumental element joins the crowd: the first one corresponds to the tambourines, related to the zora and Mipha; the second one are strings, referencing the rito and Revali, etc. I tell you, the moment I heard this during the trial I almost started crying like a baby. And, although strings have a lot to do with Rito culture in general, they tie most strongly to Revali, since he was the champion of his people, and his legacy carried over throughout the years. His accomplishments became material of folk tale, a legend, a source of pride and inspiration for the village. And let’s not forget that, at the end of the day, Revali is the crucial and foremost connection Link has to this place. Other than appeasing Vah Medoh, Link’s responsibility here is to free his past fellow champion’s spirit from Ganon’s malice. The soundtrack is referencing Revali first, and by extension his devotion to his home.

With all that in mind, let’s move on to our next point:

2- Nowhere to Go.

You shoot the canons, land on top of the Divine Beast, do what you gotta do, activate the first terminal and the soundtrack goes off unannounced. Like some sort of surprise anxiety bomb. The rhythm turns fast, the melody erratic, incredibly desperate in its execution. There’s this sheer despair, fear, this feeling of suffocation almost, which are so well achieved in this particular piece.

And that is, partially, because a quite familiar resource is used here as well; one that we’ve heard before in songs such as Rito Village or Revali’s theme. You could even think of it as a motif: two notes are played in an semitone interval, repeatedly and in quick succession. For the sake of later convenience, we’ll call this the Flight Motif, now let me explain why. In Breath of The Wild, this semitone loop is often followed up by some form of resolution. In Rito Village, formerly known as Dragon Roost Island(**), that resolution consists of a graceful descent of the melody, from a high that was built up previously during the motif. On the other hand, if you listen to Revali’s theme, you’ll notice that the interval repeats itself for a couple of times as thought charging up, to then rise fast and determined into a triumphal reprise of Revali’s distinctive assigned melody. This juxtaposition supposes the difference that lays between common rito flight and Revali’s trademark ability; both musical sequences are speaking of flight, albeit in two different languages depending on the way to achieve it. While the rito traditionally use their wings to glide and let themselves get swayed by the air currents Buzz Lightyear style, Revali takes full advantage of his flying capabilities to somehow create an updraft of his own, rising meters above the ground whenever he likes or needs to.

So, now that I layed out my base of thought when focusing on the strings, this’ll be much easier to explain. We’ve settled what the instruments themselves are a symbolic representation of Revali, in this scenario specifically. He was the only one inside Vah Medoh, and the score is, in a way, a retelling of what we can vaguely assume went down here during the Great Calamity, as much as it is what sets the tone and ambience for Link’s mission. But what are we hearing exactly? What we talked about, the Flight Motif, is being repeated nonstop. And that’s the thing, remember how I mentioned that this sequence usually finds resolution at the end? Well. Inside Vah Medoh,… it never does. The melody picks up in numerous occasions, but it’s not nearly as graceful, or calculated, as we’ve grown used to by now. It gets tangled and lost, and then inevitably falls to the ground in disarray. The pattern repeats itself, reaching higher after a handful of failed attempts, but no matter how much it tries, the cycle never ends. What used to tell us about flying and freedom in the skies, has morphed into an almost sinister musical incarnation of a tornado, and there is no way out of this trap. What do you think it must feel like to mindlessly flap your wings against wind currents so strong and violent, that it is impossible to get anywhere nearby, let alone take off every time you lose your balance. Or every time you’re shot down. On top of that, trying to aim and fight back in whatever short breaks and opportunities you get, at an enemy that’s much more powerful and relentless, who’s using your own element as a weapon to destroy you… it’s a risk Revali surely had to take in order to put up a fight. Even knowing full well that the odds were not in his favour, that he was most likely going to lose this battle, that he was going to die. Let that sink in. I’ll skip the activation of the second terminal, since there’s barely any change registered in the theme in general. So-

Three terminals activated.

I know this post is supposed to be a breakdown of the song purely, but that doesn’t mean there’s no place for a little theorising, and the following scrutiny is also quite relevant for our discussion. Bear with me for a bit. I’ve read almost everywhere about people’s most common interpretations on the Divine Beasts SOS signals, and how everyone thinks that Revali’s coming in last (a few seconds later than the other champions) has to do with him holding on for longer. Or, also, overconfident as he was, it means that the idea of calling out for additional support didn’t cross his mind until it was too late, and that’s why the beeping sounds more frantic and panicked than the others’ when it does appear. After giving it some thought myself, I’m betting on the latter option holding more ground, and that’s not all. I want to touch upon a detail of the piece that I never acknowledged was there until very recently(after seeing myself obliged to listen to this song fully and a handful of times, suffering every minute of it for the sole purpose of this analysis. It’s okay I didn’t need my heart anyway). Soon after activating the third terminal, the SOS signal disappears, or grows distant and faint enough that we can’t make it out from the background anymore. In its place, we’re confronted by this… shrill, piercing and painfully slow tune. It sounds synthetic, artificial, devoid of life. And it’s funny, because you know what it reminds me of? I’ll tell you:

A heartbeat flatline sound.

And I want to highlight that this doesn’t happen in any of the other Divine Beasts themes. All their SOS signals carry on, but Medoh’s is no more. This abrupt stop, followed by this bone-chilling tune…. makes me believe that Revali was the first of the champions to fall. A few days ago I came across SuperZeldaGirl’s video on a similar topic, theorising that this could very much be the case. There is not much evidence to support this claim other than some visual cues that could be suggesting to it, but after I found this in the soundtrack, and if we’re to rely on it for anything, I believe Revali was either the first champion to be ambushed by Ganon, or well…. the first to be killed. It is plausible, because short after Calamity Ganon unleashes his power, Revali parts from the group and flies directly to Vah Medoh, and he very well could’ve been the first pilot to arrive.

On this note…. we’ll have to wait and see for ourselves, when Age of Calamity provides long-awaited answers to many of our questions.

Four terminals activated.

An interesting melody is being played on what, for me, would qualify as a glockenspiel or a celesta, which are keyboard based instruments that produce a sound similar to that of a music box(***). If you want to pay more attention to it, I suggest listening to Vetrom’s Instrumental Mix Cover of the theme, where they practically zoom in on this part of the song (keep in mind that it uses the All Terminals’ time signature so it’s being played faster). For some reason, this particular addition makes me feel profound empathy. The sound of this instrument could be described as cute or childlike, magical, even. It is more often than not used to represent innocence, but I highly doubt that’s specifically the intention here. Much like the leading strings’ melody, the melodic contour of this one is trapped in a loop of going up and down constantly, but the difference is that this time around it sounds more under control. And much more uniform too. It doesn’t lose focus or takes risky, fruitless leaps, but rather chooses to stay on a path of waves that consistently rises and falls without taking detours. Like a determined battle strategy, giving it your all. You fall, but get back up again, and try again, and again. It reminds me of Revali’s approach to training, being persistent to the point of overworking himself. He had discipline nailed down to a tee, which I also think served him well in combat. It’s not just about being hard on yourself, either, but being confident and having complete faith in your abilities; believing that you’ll make it. For this to appear now, that the SOS signal is almost completely gone, is significant because it means that by this point, being so close to success on Link’s behalf, the music is sparing genuine encouragement for once, in spite of the tragic outcome of the past and the danger of the current situation. But, in all honesty, this is probably just me reading too much into it. Perhaps the composer just thought this addition sounded pretty bitching and there’s not much else to it, which is completely fine. Although, intentional or not, sometimes coincidences do happen, and at the end of the day, interpretations like this are a form of appreciation for an artist’s work and for what they can unknowingly accomplish.

All terminals activated.

This is the moment when the song finally lightens up. Notice how the strings abandon the wave pattern for a more even contour. The beat quickens, the melody stabilizes. At first I thought, coming from our flight analogy, that this meant a cease in movement entirely, and it was partly one of the reasons why the song in general makes me anxious. But thinking about it now, …there is something different going on here. The strings are playing on a steady rhythm. It resembles a march, it’s like a pounding heart. It’s a lively, hopeful statement. And what’s interesting is that, up until this point, there was so much fear and helplessness present in the score, even going as far as to reach a dead end when we activate the third terminal. But that’s it, isn’t it? the music just keeps going further.

It’s saying: this isn’t over yet. Even after complete and utter defeat, there’s still hope and an underlying wish to overcome this predicament, and we started to hear this as soon as a fourth terminal is activated. The melody we previously talked about? it’s here as well, and its beat is much more daring and confident.

And I just want to say… this is so powerful. Because this sentiment is deeply tied to the game’s story and Revali’s character arc. You see, he is introduced as someone who resents Link for being the manifestation of his failure, in a way, because Revali has trained arduously his whole life to be where he is, to be recognised. And yet… this hylian gets chosen by a magic sword and some tale of divine destiny and, apparently, that’s all it takes for him to be deemed the hero that will save the land. In Revali’s eyes, Link has done nothing to prove his worth before him, so it is easy to see why he despises the silent knight so much; he is yet another individual that was born into their destiny. Meanwhile, Revali has had to build his reputation from the ground up, earning him a place among the greatest warriors of Hyrule, and even then he finds himself surrounded by people who grew up praised for being born gifted. We can see how Revali is the odd one out, and can map out the reason for him acting so antagonistic towards Link.

But once we’re on Medoh, things start to change. When Link enters the Divine Beast, Revali greets him with disdain, as per usual. Of course, Link has no recollection of whatever happened a hundred years ago, other than a small glimpse of the rito champion talking down to him, a memory that came and went in a flash. So as Link, we more than expect Revali to act cold and mocking, which he does. He provides us with as little help as needed in order to free Medoh, reluctantly, shielding his wounded pride over having to wait for Link, of all people, to come to their rescue. But you can hear him starting to open up bit by bit(I wish I could translate his dialogue directly from Japanese but I’ll make do with a couple of dubs and other numerous sources from translators online). With each little step Link takes towards success, activating the terminals, the perception Revali has of him shifts from one of resentment to one of genuine admiration and respect. By the end of it all, he is willing to not only cheer on Link during the boss battle, but to trust him with his life’s worth achievement. And once left alone, he admits defeat and lets go of his bitterness, realising that he was wrong to underestimate Link, and later wishes he could’ve had a chance to measured up to him. To take all of this into consideration and work with it in the soundtrack I think it’s genuinely splendid. And for once, I am grateful that it ends in somewhat of a positive note that puts my soul to rest. I still have a hard time listening to the first two thirds of the entire thing, but now I can look forward to a hopeful and earnestly heartening conclusion for all the pain that this composition puts me in. I must admit that it’s beautifully and brilliantly crafted, and that I am enamoured of it regardless.

That is why I wrote roughly 4k words about it! I hate myself!

If you’re as crazy as me about the soundtrack of this game, I recommend you read the published cd interview with the composers themselves! if you haven’t already. I just found it yesterday(unbelievable but it’s true) and… after writing all of this and checking it out, I felt validated. It sure is a one of a kind feeling.

Alright folks, we’ve made it to the end. Congratulations for sticking around and thanks being interested in my nonsensical rambling!

I also hope that you, like me, will now be unable to listen to bowed strings without being reminded of Revali. Good luck!

————– Annotations/Sidenotes/Whatever

(*)The Flight Motif(in point number 2) is also present in this track. We can hear it in the background right after the Rito leitmotif, as per usual. It starts with a clarinet, I think, before the strings take the lead. (**) Note that the Flight Motif only comes into play in the Breath of The Wild rendition of the song. (***)I strongly associate this instrument with Mipha, given that it is used in her theme, in every “response” to the initial melody. It can be heard in Attack On Vah Ruta, as well, it enters the scene when the notes Mi(E) and Fa(F) are played. The initial tune, Si and Do(B and C) are played on a clarinet or oboe, wind instruments just like the flute that leads Sidon’s respective theme. The celesta can also be heard inside Vah Ruta, activating the first terminal…. when the song really takes a turn just like Medoh’s. Mipha has nothing to do with the song of this analysis, however. We must understand that instruments, although they are attached to characters/various story elements in some cases, can always be used outside of that context, for that is the nature of an orchestral soundtrack. If you have this many tools at your disposal, you will make good use of them.

#Revali #Vah Medoh #botw #loz #aoc

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twilightofthejedi · 4 years ago

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chapter 2 of "sorry to my unknown lover" is up!

read on ao3 here

read chapter 1 on ao3 here and on tumblr here

chapter summary:

He is still watching his own blood settle on the ground when Vincenzo groans, stirring. Han-seok looks down at one of the shards of glass, how it turns reflective in the light. He sees his own smirk, and looks up.

It all starts now.

read under the cut below

chapter 2: prometheus

Jang Han-seok slips his phone into his pocket. It had been almost child’s play getting his personal effects back after his brief stint in jail, and he has no intention of returning.

Not when he has who he wants right in front of him.

He looks down at the great Vincenzo Cassano, unconscious and tied to a chair. His hair is matted with his own blood, and there is glass embedded in his knees. Han-seok bends to take out the glass, and wraps the wounds with cloth. It wouldn’t do to have Vincenzo’s wounds get infected too early. He does, after all, want him to be conscious for the next part of his plan.

At first, as he had watched Vincenzo and Cha-young banter easily on the sidewalk outside the plaza, bitter green jealousy twisting his stomach like acid, he had considered taking Cha-young instead. Wouldn’t it be nice to toy with Vincenzo from afar, dangling things like Cha-young’s glittery earrings in front of him, forcing him to come to her and scream in fear for her life?

It would, but he had realized that he didn’t need Cha-young to toy with Vincenzo. He could do that from two feet away from him, in a warehouse with nobody around them for miles.

Funny, really, how many abandoned warehouses there are, with nobody to care about them or even think twice about the screams coming from them.

The screams that he has every intention of pulling from Vincenzo.

He picks up one of the glass shards that he had pulled from Vincenzo, and runs his finger along the jagged edge of it. It pricks his finger, and the blood catches the industrial lighting overhead. He watches idly as the blood beads up and falls to the ground. It sits there, staining the gray concrete a dull brown.

It all starts now.

“Noona , I can help.”

Both Cha-young and Mr. Nam look up with a start, and see Jang Han-seo standing there, shirt rumpled and tie askew. He is holding a computer and some sort of device, and his eyes are bloodshot.

She can only stare at him. “What are you doing here?”

“I got the text from hyungnim, too. That is what’s going on, right?” He looks in between them, eyes darting like he is nervous. Cha-young remembers a flippant line in Han-seo’s folder in the guillotine file: He was abused and tortured by his older brother for years, and resultant drug addiction , takes in Han-seo’s slightly shaking fingers, and decides to take a chance.

“What did he say in his message to you?” Mr. Nam says, seemingly reading her mind. He beckons Han-seo closer, and pulls out a chair for him to sink into. Han-seo unlocks his phone and sets it on the table, along with the computer and mysterious gadget. The message is nearly identical to the one that she had received but in context, significantly more terrifying: Hi Han-seo. Did you miss me? You can’t get rid of me that easily, little brother.

The picture and its caption are different, too. The picture is of a man’s hand, presumably Han-seok’s, holding a bloody watch, Vincenzo’s bare, pale wrist in the blurry background. Mr. Nam inhales sharply at the sight, and Cha-young impatiently clicks to the caption.

One more.

Cha-young has read her former hoobae ’s folder in the File; she knows what the watch signifies. For a second, she is standing outside a makgeolli shop on a rainy night, a clear plastic umbrella falling from her fingers that have suddenly gone numb, and pushing past bystanders who have gathered to watch; dispassionate, uncaring, apathetic bystanders watching one man die and another struggle to live, and sees the hundreds of sticky notes that had been stuck to the wall for months until she finally allowed herself to take them down. She stands up abruptly, and the other two men stumble to their feet after her.

“Byeonhosa-nim ?” Mr. Nam asks tentatively.

“Han-seo, what’s the laptop for?”

“Do you know where hyung is right now?” he asks abruptly. They both shake their heads. In the past few hours, Cha-young and Mr. Nam have come up with a plan for what to do when they find Han-seok, but they have been stumped on how to find him. It wasn’t like he had conveniently called them that they could track his phone, and surveillance footage courtesy of Mi-ri and Agent Ahn hadn’t turned up anything useful.

“I didn’t think so,” Han-seo continues. “You both know about his practice of collecting watches, right?” Cha-young exchanges a glance with Mr. Nam, who turns a delicate shade of green. She nods.

“ Hyungnim likes to wear the watches that he collects. He switches them around, wears a different one everyday. Never even matches them to his outfit. It’s ridiculous.” Han-seo trails off, rambling about sports watch and black suit, and Cha-young realizes she needs to steer the conversation back to relevancy.

“Han-seok has no fashion sense. So?” she asks, feeling her patience fray with every passing second. With every passing second Vincenzo could be getting tortured, or dying, or both at the same time.

Cha-young owns exactly one black hanbok . She has worn it three times in her life. First to her mother’s funeral, standing silently in the funeral parlor, fuming when her father stepped out to take a call from a client. The next time was nearly ten years later, for her father’s funeral. Then she had felt nothing, just a cold sea of emptiness, right until she saw the picture of them both at her law school graduation, at which point she had been punctured like a balloon, or a plant cell with too much water intake. The last and most recent time was at Vincenzo’s mother’s funeral. Then she had felt a bone deep sorrow, and a dizzying feeling of inevitability, like this was going to be the rest of her life. Going to funerals of people taken from her much too soon.

She refuses, however, to take out that hanbok again. Let it collect dust on its hanger in her closet. Let it fade with time. She refuses to lose anyone else, and she refuses to lose Vincenzo.

She’ll be damned if she lets Jang Han-seok change that.

“So,” Han-seo says, typing on the laptop. “I installed trackers in all of the watches. I’m finding his current location right now.” He looks up at them. “He will try to control the action from now on. His plan is probably to keep baiting you, noona , with pieces of information about Vin- hyung to keep you dependent on him. But now that we know where he is, we can confront him on our own terms. I mean, your terms. Because it’s your plan.” he finishes slightly awkwardly.

He turns the laptop to face them, and she and Mr. Nam crouch down to see. The blip on the screen is pointing to a warehouse over twenty miles outside of Seoul, which makes sense.

Cha-young looks both of her companions in the eye. “Let’s get to work.”

“Had a nice rest?”

Vincenzo leans back in the hard wooden chair he is strapped to. “It’s not first class, but it’ll do, I suppose.”

In front of him, Jang Han-seok sneers. Vincenzo just stares at him patiently. His initial few seconds when he woke up had remained unknown to his captor. He had lain there, still and silent, breathing evenly, to try and get a feel for his situation. Once he had deduced that there was only one person with him, and that they weren’t in the city, he had allowed himself to groan and let Han-seok know that he was awake. Now that his eyes are open and he has swept the area and can visualize it in his mind’s eye, he has nothing else to do other than let Han-seok show his hand.

After all, Jang Han-seok is nothing if not dependably predictable.

True to form, Han-seok stands abruptly. “Shall we take a picture? I’m sure sunbae would love to see how you’re doing right now.”

“I’m sure you’ve already sent her a picture, but go ahead.”

His captor narrows his eyes at him, and then strides away, out of sight. Vincenzo takes the opportunity to close his eyes and collect his thoughts. It’s been far too long since he was kidnapped. The last time was two years ago, when he woke up and found himself in a vineyard in Sicily, bound hand and foot.

He had burned the entire place down, as well as everyone in it.

Now, however, he cannot recklessly escape, or else he will lead Cha-young right into a trap. He has no doubt that she will find him and bring the right people and use the right resources to rescue him.

He knows this. He knows the competency of everyone that he has worked with for the past few months.

Over the past fifteen years, he has carried out more illegal acts than he can remember. He has burned, stolen, framed, defamed, and killed and killed and killed. He has not regretted much of it, save for one thing. Collateral.

Vincenzo knows that his actions after coming to Korea are in somewhat of a gray area. Yes, they are illegal, and very much dangerous, but they are justified . They are a means to a very much honorable end, and he doesn’t regret them. No, what he regrets is the collateral. Before, the word collateral had served as nothing more than a clinical way to refer to the people that got hurt in the crossfire. Collateral was a number, a number of people, an amount of money needed to fix it, statistics on a page in il capo’s ledger that got crossed off with a fountain pen, the book shut before the ink finished drying.

However, he still remembers straightening to his feet, his pointer finger still stained with fresh blood after tracing the letter C into the rapidly spreading bloodstain on the floor. He had scanned the area, because there was nothing that the capo hated more than loose ends on a job. When he had looked into the car, he had inhaled sharply, because there was a child cowering in the backseat, curled around a worn stuffed animal.

But now, collateral is the faces of people that he does not want to see gone. Against his will, he has become fond of every person living in Geumga Plaza, who has told him, with shining eyes, that he had given them something to fight for. They have all been living from day to day, not expecting much of the days to come, and now they veritably shine in their daily lives.

It’s like someone lit a fire underneath them, and once that fire was lit, no one could dare to extinguish it.

He shifts in his chair, and prepares to wait for Jang Han-seok to come back. Cha-young will come for him, and they will rain hell upon the world after that.

Until then, Vincenzo has no problem in being the one who dared to light up the world. The one who stepped down to earth, a fistful of flames in his palm. The one who bestowed heat and light and warmth and life to the world.

He does not regret his past actions, for he has kindled flames from smothered embers, and no one can put them out. For this, he will gladly be their fallen Titan, their Prometheus.

#vincenzo #chayenzo #vincenzo cassano #hong cha young #jang han seo #jang han seok #chayenzo fanfic #my writing #my fic

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clansayeed · 4 years ago

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Bound by Destiny II, part 2 ― Chapter 9: The Arrival

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny II, part 2 ⥽

They fled New York with one purpose. Find, hunt down, and return with a way to kill a vampire god. They abandoned their loved ones and survived the City of Shadows; had their trust broken and darkest secrets brought to light. All that... and Gaius still won anyway. But now that they have nothing to lose, Nadya and her friends are finally ready to do whatever it takes to see the King of Vampires overthrown.

They just have to avoid a vampire population eager to gain favor with their new monarch, the ruthless Order of the Dawn, and whatever plans Gaius has that involve Nadya captured and brought to him alive. So... easy-peasy, right? The worlds of both dark and light hang in the balance. The time has come for the Bloodkeeper to embrace her destiny. So if anyone wants to clue her in on whatever that means, now would be great!

Bound by Destiny II and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing reimagining project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

TAG LIST: @googlesentmehere, @cess02, @hellyeah90sbaby, @tayab12, @saratustra4, @imnotdonewiththeelementalists, @thepotatobleh,

*join the Tag List here!

⥼ Summary ⥽

It's the night of Vlad's masquerade ball, the most prestigious social event a vampire can attend. An entire ballroom full of faces and names every vampire in Europe knows... and apparently Nadya is going to upstage them all.

content warnings: language

[READ IT ON AO3]

A pretty big chunk of their plan relies on the staff of the Tepes Estate being just as snobbish and uppity as the man they serve.

So thankfully at least something is both easily predictable and surprisingly convenient.

Staff all around, and none of them pay the pair of them much mind. Beyond the fact that they get told by more than one footman that “guests really shouldn’t be back in the staff corridors” and receive multiple warnings about how “the Count has ensured all guests for the evening, (said while looking down the biggest snooty nose in all of Prague no less) no matter their prestige, will receive adequate time to sup on the serving staff,” and that they “really shouldn’t be allowing an undisclosed human on the premises but will look the other way this time,” Nadya and Cadence are pretty much left to their own devices.

Which means scurrying out of sight before any lone particularly loyal member of the Tepes household decides to go narc and everything ends up exploding in their faces anyway.

Because there’s no way on earth these full-face masques of theirs are providing any damage cover should their plans go KABOOM!

Nadya casts another look up at Cadence as they come across their umpteenth fork in the road. Watching him decide between right or left is starting to feel as nerve-wracking as actually choosing which direction they ought to go.

“You’re sure you know where we are?” You’re sure you know we’re going the right way?

“I’m starting to feel like you have less than zero faith in me, Nadya.” He probably thinks the glance down her way is a reassuring one. But the masque over his face is almost too neutral. It’s just a mask but it feels like it’s trying too hard, you know?

“That’s not it at all. This place is just…” A lot.

He barely remembers to reach back and take her by the hand before he chooses left in a hurry. Who knows how much time they’ve wasted just trying to find their way through this seemingly endless castle.

“It takes me a moment to recall the map Serafine showed me before we left, but I’m… ninety percent sure I know exactly where we are.”

“And the other ten percent?”

“Is trying to keep an ear out for party noises. So if you’ll zip it, thank you.”

Admittedly Nadya would have a lot more faith in this plan if it wasn’t just the pair of them, proven stumbling disasters that they are, relying on the apparently flawless memory of a man who literally introduces himself as ‘the one with amnesia.’ She understands the rationale behind it, just as she understands the rationale behind everybody else going through the front door like an entourage of normal party-goers. They have three prestigious faces and what Jax and Lily lack in clout they make up for in being practically invisible as nobodies to this upper echelon of attendees.

But shoving the two bigwigs of their gang — well, the most recognizable face in any room of vampires and the obviously human girl losing her freakin’ mind amid a cluster of the heartbeat-less undead — through the staff entrance with nothing more than simple masks to disguise them and trusting them not to mess up finding their way among the rest in time for some famed big reveal they still don’t know the full-on details of…?

Well if they live through this long enough to chronicle this part of their journey, nobody is ever allowed to even so much as imply via metaphor that Nadya never trusted her friends wholly and completely.

Actually if they’re talking about chronicling stuff, better they leave these more vague and improvised parts of their master quest to the footnotes. That way they can pretend they knew what they were doing the whole time.

For example Nadya isn’t gonna let anyone write down that she got so wrapped up in her thoughts about what may or may not get written down that she walked face-first into a brick wall.

OW.

Not a brick wall, actually.

Cadence turns around and catches Nadya’s mask just before it falls and shatters on the ground. Thank you vampire super-speed.

“Are you okay?” He asks, wide-eyed and worried, hesitant to give her back her disguise to take stock of how she really looks.

That’s such a loaded question though, so Nadya ignores it and rubs the redness on her forehead instead.

“Why’d you stop?”

The vampire takes a moment to look up and down either end of the corridor and even around the next corner. When he’s satisfied they’re alone he pries his own mask off with a groan; practically peeling his flattened hair from where its been stuck to his forehead the moment he put the darn thing on.

“Because,” with pursed lips he blows his fringe out of his eyes, “I’ve been talking this entire time… and even when I ramble you usually have some two cents or other to pitch in.”

That’s fair. Nadya takes back her mask with a sheepish shrug. “Sorry, got distracted.”

“That much is obvious. Care to share?”

“Not really. Care to keep going?” Not like they’re exactly full of free time, here.

He sweeps his arm in an after you motion, but keeps pace with Nadya’s shorter stride. “I can hear the string quartet by now. We’re close, but they haven’t begun the announcements Serafine told me to wait for.” So maybe they have a bit of free time. Got it.

Only now she can’t stop thinking about what will be on the other side of the big grand ballroom doors.

And Nadya without her set of note cards to at least help her through her dumb speech all because her dumb dress has no dumb pockets.

“You know I still don’t get why they wouldn’t budge about you not being discovered.”

“You don’t see me complaining,” Cadence says with a shrug; and actually now that he points it out…

“No, I don’t.”

He doesn’t need to look at her to know exactly why she says it that way, either. It’s not the first time they’ve had this talk. Probably won’t be the last either.

His sigh sags from his shoulders to his fingertips. “‘Surprise warmonger back from the dead’ might accidentally eclipse ‘reincarnation of the vampire Goddess.’ Can’t have that, now can we.”

“Cadence.”

“Nadya.”

They turn another corner in complete silence. Nadya’s ears strain to hear this quartet of his but nope, not close enough for her poor human ears quite yet.

Finally Cadence seems to decide on something. Gathering himself up all the way to his full height while fiddling with the porcelain in his grasp. “Actually… Serafine and Kamilah gave me the option. When they talked about prestige all this week it was largely assuming I might be able to pretend just enough to add to their collective fame. But they gave me the choice as to whether or not I wanted to try.”

“And you said no.”

“Of course I said no. I don’t envy you, Nadya. You have to do this regardless of whether or not you want to. But for the first time it feels like I’m not in that position, and I want to take full advantage of it.”

His face falls, voice going somber. “Surely you can see why.”

She can. She did, in the flesh, and while he’d been useful at the time she can still close her eyes and remember how easily Cynbel had threatened Jax, hurt Adrian and Serafine; how callous he’d been with her life even though she’d agreed with him at the time… Not to mention all the implied things that come with Serafine, always calm and cool and collected, losing her freakin’ marbles every time he ended up a part of the conversation.

He continues. “I don’t think I could have pretended to be him if my life depended on it. And if you think about it, your life does depend on it in a way. I couldn’t risk you like that. Not after how kind you’ve been to me.”

Her fingers brush over his arm. Cadence either takes it the wrong way or chooses to give a purpose to something so small; he bends his elbow and lets her arm slide into his like a proper escort to a proper ball.

“A lot of people’s lives depend on me pretending to…” Nadya can’t quite say it though, so she swallows it down. “I just have no idea what I’m supposed to do when we get there.”

“Understandably.”

“Seriously,” offering him a wry and dry smile, “that’s all the advice you’ve got?”

He mulls it over for a good and proper think. The effort is more than appreciated even if it doesn’t actually yield results. At least this way she gets to vent it out before messing up royally when the time comes.

Cadence stops first — their linked arms jerk her back and to turn and face him. “I wouldn’t call it advice, per se,” gee—great, “but maybe we both suck at pretending because we ought to be accepting, instead. Accepting who we… were. Possibly, in your case. That way we still have the chance to move on.”

It’s a sweet sentiment, but Nadya can’t help the way her nose scrunches up slightly.

“I don’t think that applies to this case, Cade.”

“Fair enough. Can’t say I didn’t try.” And that makes the pair of them laugh, no matter how weakly. Something neither of them knew they needed, nor how badly they needed it.

It doesn’t last long… but it doesn’t need to.

“You’ll figure it out when the time comes Nadya. You usually do.”

Usually.

In wordless agreement she and Cadence don their pretend masques with mutual reluctance. At least he doesn’t have to breathe in his. But it’s easier this time to see what his face really says beneath that neutral doll-like expression.

She smiles at him in return. Like many things these days they can’t quite see it, but the feeling is there.

When they get close enough that Nadya’s ears no longer strain to catch the occasional tittering laughter or melodramatic voice, Cadence diverts them yet again. This time for a staircase he just so happens to catch sight of out of the corner of his eye.

He keeps her close; closer than before. Practically hovering over her like a shadow less than a step behind her the whole way up. She pauses when he pauses, she waits when he waits, and trusts him enough to know her faith isn’t misplaced but some explanation would be swell any time he’s feeling his usual chatty self.

Crouched close to the ground (which is a feat for him, for her not so much) Cadence crooks a finger at Nadya to join him in inching steps along the carpet towards the railing overlooking the main foyer below.

Nadya is, understandably, hesitant. “What if someone sees us?” What if someone smells me, hears me, all-of-the-aboves me?

“Same principle as before.”

“Keep close and your blood will cover me up?”

He nods. Not like she really has any other choice. Well, that and the more snatches of conversation she plucks from thin air the more curious she is.

And when has her curiosity ever not won out?

Cadence’s cloak comes heavy around her other shoulder and all but smothers her. She grabs the edge and pulls it tight while making sure not to jostle it from his shoulders. For some reason she can’t shake the feeling like she’s hiding behind a curtain with her feet sticking out underneath.

But they’re here, so they might as well take advantage of it. So Nadya joins him in peering through the stone balusters to the hustle and bustle happening below.

The foyer had been beautiful already during her visit with Serafine and Jax the other night — Nadya would even go so far as to assume it was nearly completed. That assumption would have been vastly incorrect.

It’s not her contacts; she’s not seeing double. Every bauble and ribbon and glittering glassy gem brought along the entire family. There’s practically no surface without something shiny added in some form or another, and in many cases that shiny thing has a shiny thing has a shiny thing of its own on top.

On their own the decorations probably look gaudy and too-much. But when you fill the room with graceful vampires all dolled up in unique fashions and splendors everything else is lost in the background. Tasteful would probably have ended up the equivalent of a fifty-buck Party Town Supply budget. So at least the Count knows his audience.

She should be looking for their friends… and she is. But Nadya tells herself it’s being a good and thorough secret agent to observe all the other guests along the way. Two birds and all that. But it’s not easy to just sweep her eyes over the assembled masses in search of a few key faces. Not when each masque is a face all its own.

You’d think there are only so many combinations of colors, designs, and styles to make before they start getting repetitive. But that couldn’t be farther from the case. She gets it now, seeing everything and everyone from way up high and afar like this. The importance of not just the masque itself, but having the right kind of masque above everything else.

Masquerade balls are about hiding and blending in; being just another face in the crowd.

Les Visages de la Gloire is the exact opposite. And even that feels like the most watered-down way to put it she can think of.

A gentle weight falls on Nadya’s back and she shudders a gasp. When had she stopped breathing? Not for fear of being caught, but at the beauty of it all that could only be described as—literally—breathtaking.

Faceless in their full face-coverings and headdresses each more ostentatious than the last; not important enough to show who they are but still in competition with each other — still with deeds to announce and reputations to uphold. Half-masks covering the left side, the right side, the top of one and the bottom of another and all of them made uniquely for a single soul and nobody else.

Some vampires have masques that match their costumes. Others clash in a way that can’t be anything other than on purpose. Even from a distance Nadya can see the difference between carefully crafted metalwork and porcelain painted with glossy lacquer; can compare wood carvings with rich varnish and contrast that with the vast rainbow of matte colors on terracotta. Most are adorned with embellishments and jewels heavy enough to make her neck hurt just by looking at them.

Nearly all take full advantage of the fact their wearers won’t end up suffocating on the other side.

And I’m supposed to show them all up without so much as a sheer ribbon over my eyes? Yeah, Nadya’s confidence takes a knife to the gut just thinking about it.

“Over there.”

Not like Cadence’s finger isn’t pointing down to a massive crowd or anything, but that’s exactly the point — forgive the pun.

Though they can’t quite see double doors leading inside the castle from the exterior from their hiding spot, the sudden hush that falls over the idle crowd offers up an equally dramatic entrance.

It’s the kind of arrival that would be filmed in slow-motion. The kind that pans up from the purposeful echo of each expensive step; dragging over the exquisite details of their costumes in one long smooth glide all the way to the big reveal. And what a reveal it is.

Kamilah’s spindly masque may be made of steel but it curls over her sharp features with all the grace of a silken thread. It’s a face covering by only the thinnest margin of definition, with too many gaps in the framework to even pretend to conceal her identity. But after taking in the rest of the crowd… it’s obvious she’s the kind of face — the kind of presence — that simply can’t go unrecognized.

Everything about Kamilah, from her posture to her raised chin to her not-at-all-faked aura of superiority, demands recognition.

On the surface she’s the woman that Nadya knows; that she trusts and cares about so so much. But look beneath, something all too easy to do — like sweeping aside a mist, it’s impossible to miss how she’s so much more.

The Bloodqueen has arrived. And the entire foyer is speechless before her.

Without even moving a muscle the closest groups stagger back several more steps. Dozens of them nearly tripping over themselves and each other in their haste.

It’s no surprise that the space is quickly taken up by the two figures flanking Kamilah’s sides.

Serafine’s masque isn’t so much a mask as it is a scrap of lace just wide enough to earn the collective approval. As if anyone here doesn’t already know who she is regardless. But that’s how she can pull the look off if Nadya is remembering her explanation right.

No one would dare partake in Les Visages without knowing—without introduction—the woman who started it all.

Some final vestiges of their psychic connection tugs Nadya towards her; not physically so much as emotionally. Even without seeing Serafine’s features up close there’s a bittersweet ache in her chest that’s definitely not Nadya’s own.

The vampiress can offer up all the scarlet-lipped smiles she wishes. They are all hollow and fake. The simple act of being here causes Serafine nothing but distress.

And then there was Adrian.

Who, in comparison to Kamilah and Serafine, makes the women nearest him seem positively giddy and gleeful to be here tonight.

He wears his tailored costume perfectly; that wasn’t in doubt. It’s the masque that leaves him stony-faced. Gold rich and dark that catches every little flame on the chandelier over his head that covers his eyes but can’t hide the tension wracking his jaw.

He and Kamilah both wear near-identical rich crimson garnets inlaid just beneath their masque’s right eye. Shared stones for a shared Maker. But along his edges are thin metal spires, short but wicked sharp, that vary from the same gold, to steel, to a coppery hue.

A second glance confirms Nadya’s suspicions; Adrian isn’t the only one with those kinds of embellishments along the edges of their masques. Scouring a few of them from the crowd, the way they carry themselves and mirror Adrian’s ramrod-straight posture answers a question she didn’t know she needed to ask.

If the garnet labels him and Kamilah both as Turned by Gaius, then the spikes are the mark of the soldier. Any soldier; but one worth recognition for their service.

Which is everything Adrian doesn’t want. Everything he had worried over, and was working now towards overcoming in the wake of his past.

Nadya ducks her head hastily to catch her tear before it falls. Thankfully she’s quick enough. If only she could wipe away the reason for it just as easily.

Pull yourself together, girl, she scolds, and it’s just enough to do the trick and pull Nadya’s focus back to everything around them. All the stillness and nothingness and the way a room full of the undead hold their collective unnecessary breath waiting for what will happen next.

Which is exactly the kind of attention-grabbing showstopper the three of them are supposed to be. All eyes turned on the prestigious trio they are together, and away from Nadya and Cadence one floor above.

All focus on who they are, why they’ve come, what they will do; and away from the practically invisible dynamic duo that slips through the crowd towards the closed ballroom doors.

Behind her, Cadence lets out an impressed little “hah” when he finally manages to pick Lily and Jax out of the crowd. “I completely missed them. Did you see them sneak in?”

“No,” answers Nadya, but that’s actually a good thing. That was the whole point.

Without a word Kamilah takes one step forward. Her aura of command acts like an invisible shield that parts the rest; holding them at a respectable distance.

But the sudden shifting of the mass of faces and their masques gets dangerous when it turns right in their direction. If even one wandering eye looks up, they’re done for!

Without a word the vampire pulls Nadya backwards, letting the force of his bulk pull them out of eyesight in the nick of time. That was a little close, huh.

Nadya doesn’t get the chance to thank him though.

The moment she opens her mouth a loud echoing clang rings out below them, followed by the distinct shuffle of something heavy being dragged achingly close to the foyer’s marble floors.

Neither of them needs to risk sneaking a look.

Right on time. The ballroom doors have finally opened, allowing the first wave of prestige to spill forth out to the grand dance floor.

And though the shuffling of boots and sharp tapping of heels fills the vacuum of stunned silence as the attendees start to move, it’s not nearly enough noise to drown out the sudden and familiar exuberant laughter of delight that echoes across every polished surface below. The kind of laughter designed to be projected across adoring crowds; and carefully rehearsed to always seem full of intriguing promise.

What Nadya wouldn’t give to borrow a little of Vlad Tepes’ seemingly endless confidence for her own performance… looming ever-closer and starting to pick up real steam.

“Remember my lovelies! Faceless and no-names, see yourselves inside. New blood and the lucky virginal attendees right beside them!”

Her full-body shiver of discomfort is more than warranted. But Nadya only wishes she could be surprised at his… unsettling word choice.

“I’m suddenly very glad to be up here.”

She snorts at the wide-eyed stare looking out from Cadence’s mask. “You and me both.”

“Yes yes darling, oh you look a treat. And you there — you must tell me the story behind that engraving later, you simply must.” It’s really to their luck and benefit that the Count likes hearing himself talk so much. They can stay far away from the railing and still keep tabs on what gauge of prestige is next to be welcomed into the bal masqué proper.

They just have to wait until everyone—Vlad included—is inside. Everyone but the most prestigious of the lot of them. And when all eyes are (once again) on the Bloodqueen herself… they’ll have no choice but to witness Nadya’s arrival.

Having Kamilah by her side might just give her the kick in the metaphorical pants to do this thing. Not the literal though. There’s no way this practically bleach-white linen getup will survive a boot print, and especially not to the rear end.

Down below there’s a momentary lull; all but shattered by Vlad’s returning laughter now pitched higher than before.

“Why there you are, Serafine! Here I worried I had somehow lost track of your arrival in the excitement.”

His words are followed by two unmistakably wet noises; which Nadya prays are just over-dramatic kisses to her cheeks.

“Surely you jest,” she teases good-naturedly; said with all the humor of someone whose smile can’t possibly reach her eyes, “I see before me you follow the old traditions quite well. Showing the prestigious their due, their arrival witnessed by all who look to them in admiration.”

“Well of course! It makes for the grandest of entrances.”

“Ah, yes,” the elder vampiress croons, “and as the illustrious host yours would be the last, non?”

“Don’t worry darling — I would never claim credit for your centuries of contribution to our dwindling community.”

“Meaning?”

Somehow Nadya just knows Vlad throws his hair back unnecessarily as he laughs again.

“You can enter just before me, of course.”

“Then when, may I ask, might you suggest my blood-kin Adrian and I make our entrance known, old friend?”

Unlike Serafine, who at least pretends to smile while enduring the torture of his conversation, Kamilah’s question is cold and clipped. It rings with all the disinterest of the Kamilah that Nadya had met so long ago — and she’d place good money on the single raised eyebrow hiked high enough to be seen over her masque, too.

But if anyone could render Vlad speechless…

Nadya struggles to hear something, anything, until she catches the faint rustle of stiff and expensive fabric moving with haste. Vlad’s gesture of greeting, no doubt.

Just like she has no doubt that Kamilah and Adrian don’t humor him as long as Serafine has. It certainly explains the flustered, hasty way his next words tumble from his tongue with practically no filter.

“All the best surprises are the ones that sweep one off his feet. My humble gathering of our kind—nay, our family—from the nearest branch to the farthest root is made absolutely resplendent by the honor of your presence!

“Your Majesty, mon cherie —” —a beat, his attention likely shifting to Adrian— “— and Sergeant Adrian Raines, just when I had resigned myself to an evening of only the old and antiquated in renown. Here you stand before me, as handsome as the day we first met.”

Nadya quickly schools her bewildered expression — too long and it might get stuck that way. But that is flirtation if she’s ever heard it. Not good flirtation, but nevertheless.

“Vlad, as… lively… as ever.” Adrian just barely recovers, but now she’s dying to know what he had almost said instead. “Hard to believe it’s been nearly seventy-five years since last we met. Time… flies so quickly.”

“Oh pish posh,” replies the Count, “you wouldn’t know it but for the calendars. My memory of those chiseled features of yours obviously needed a refresh.”

He’s barely finished speaking when he gasps, clapping his hands together delightedly. “Speaking of memory! You’ll have to forgive my fright. As you all know surely, my recollection skills are of world-renown. Yet the sight of you all almost thrust me spiraling into self-doubt.

“And not without good reason! As I could have sworn you — the both of you, that is to say — had… cast aside your former titles.”

It’s just like before. Everything that pops into his head said without a filter all the way up until what he’s saying isn’t as vapid as it was at the start.

It must be so easy to write Vlad Tepes off at first glance. Just look at the public opinion of the guy. Nadya had, she’s humble enough to admit it. But the hard truth is that he is Vlad Tepes; he is Count Dracula.

But whether he’s all the things the myths and legends claim or not it can’t go ignored that he knows what he’s doing (even if it doesn’t seem like it). He knows how to play a crowd, how to stroke an ego. He’s a master of misdirection.

Has nobody pitched a Vegas residency to this guy yet? Seriously?

But if he thinks he’s going to out-wit someone like Kamilah he must have those leather pants on just a little too tight.

She doesn’t address his comment. Brushing it aside proves a much more important point.

“Shall Adrian and I wait patiently here while you and Serafine follow through, then?”

Vlad must be used to playing the ‘host with the most’ card, because he hesitates. But Kamilah wasn’t asking — she was just being polite.

“Yes,” he finally agrees, though surprisingly less strained than Nadya would have expected. “I would not dare nor dream of presuming your prestige. Nor would I separate the grand entrance of the progeny of our King.

“The three of you will have a most celebratory announcement, I give you my word.”

Did she hear that right?

Serafine offers a gentle tittering laugh. “I see no reason why you and I should not enter together, ma puce.”

“We shall.”

Vlad’s words die to the sound of heavy heels across the foyer floor. Too many steps to be one of her friends; but certainly more than enough for them to bring a person across the length of the room to where they are gathered.

Of course something is going wrong. They should have anticipated something going wrong. They had, her brain reminds her, and probably thinks its being helpful by doing so.

She dares to inch just close enough to catch a glimpse down below and spoiler alert — it isn’t helpful at all.

With his head held high, Marc Antony makes a bold statement in taking Kamilah’s hand without it being offered. Then he goes a step further with a half-bow and a kiss pressed to the back — or the ghost of one. He barely manages it before she yanks it from his grasp — in surprise, in anger, that’s not the part that matters.

With everyone fixated on the two oldest vampires in the room, Adrian dares to steal a glance of warning up to the railing. Wide-eyed and with pursed lips, the message when he gives the tiniest shake of his head is clear.

Nadya retreats, practically crab-walking backwards.

Cadence tries to help her sudden shaking panic with an arm over her shoulders. It’s the thought that counts.

“What,” he asks worriedly, “who is it?”

“Antony,” Nadya exhales, and the man goes rigid beside her. “It’s Marc Antony.”

#bloodbound #playchoices fanfiction #playchoices #kamilah x mc #kamilah sayeed #bloodbound mc #mc: nadya al jamil #adrian raines #serafine dupont #jax matsuo #lily spencer #marc antony #oc: cadence smith #vlad tepes #fic: oblivion bound #oblv: new chapter #oblv: bound by destiny ii #; my fics

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gothamincarnate · 5 years ago

Text

Interacting with d/Deaf muses (and d/DHH people)

for d/Deaf people reading this: I am HH but only recently Deaf so I am mostly speaking from that perspective and things I’ve heard from others in the Deaf community. If I am wrong on any point let me know. reblog this with corrections or simply send me an IM.

for hearing people reading this: like I said, my experince is incredibly personal as are most people’s navigation of Deafhood or deafness. don’t take this list and just assume it’s law. this is only tips. most of all be respectful to the individual.

putting it under a cut for length and so that i can append & correct it as needed.

I said I wasn’t going to “how to write a Deaf muse” but this needs to be said-

do not make your character d/Deaf only in a side verse. It is a lifelong thing for us.

there are people who are late deafened so chronologically this could be done, especially with regards to the Deaf journey.

but it should not be done as a side verse.

this is not to say that writing a Hearing character as Deaf is bad! In fact, I encourage you to. my main muse is Deaf Batman and I enjoy exploring his character in Deaf culture and deafness as a disability.

HOWEVER, his deafness is part of every verse that I have with him.

the reason for this is that, well, d/Deaf people face communication barriers every day and it’s not something we can take on and off for convenience. even with assistive devices we are still deaf.

Interacting with d/Deaf people in real life:

deaf & Deaf are two different things. feel free to google explanations on this.

do not question a person’s decision on how to self identify as d/Deaf or HH. if someone is being harmful then let someone who is d/Deaf handle it

a hearing person cannot give themselves or others a sign name even if a Deaf person gave them a sign name. if you want to change a namesign, ask another Deaf person. there are a rules and a required amount of fluency. It’s not just a nickname.

let the person you’re talking to set the course for using asl if at all. some of us are oral to varying degrees or use aids that work for us. many are bilingual, which means many will switch back and forth as needed when interacting with people. many even text or type instead.

there are varying degrees of hearing loss, not everyone is fully deaf. some are even hearing but use sign as their primary means of communication and therefore can be considered Deaf

lip reading is nearly impossible and takes a lot of concentration, mostly only get a few words because your outer lips only count for 20% of how we talk.

there’s also listening fatigue where is pretty self explanatory. don’t assume we even like lipreading. it’s difficult

don’t turn your face or bend down if we’re trying to have a conversation. it’s a visual language which means we need to watch your expressions and you need to watch ours.

do not, I repeat DO NOT! stare at anyone using ASL. it’s RUDE to watch us just because it’s “interesting” to you.

do NOT come up to use and sign the three words you know and walk off, don’t sign at us at all unless you mean to have an actual conversation.

stop calling ASL beautiful. Yes, it is beautiful for a lot of historical and cultural reasons but if hearing people just think its’ “beautiful” it because it’s highly visual

many go without listening aids for a variety of reasons, don’t ask about it unless the person offers you to ask them

some people are culturally Deaf & some people want nothing to do with it

some people prefer to consider deafness a disability and this is mostly an intracommunity issue, do not correct a deaf person on this

I know you have been meaning to learn ASL. Stop telling me that every time I use ASL or talk about it. It’s frustrating. Either learn it or don’t. If you really care about the ASL user in your life you’ll learn it.

do not, like never if you can help it, say “never mind” or give up when the person is asking you to repeat yourself. many of us have spent our whole lives hearing that. we deserve communication just like everyone else.

do not give a three word summary or say “i’ll tell you later”, it’s incredibly hurtful and singles us out and deprives us of a spot in the conversation

many people who use ASL use it out of a need to communicate, it’s not something we can just take for fun

Interacting with Deaf muses (not “how to write a Deaf muse”, do research for that)

hearing people cannot give themselves a namesign. do not give your hearing muse a namesign. don’t even give your d/Deaf muse a namesign. ask someone’s who a d/Deaf RPer to help you if you really want to.

some Deaf people don’t have namesigns

namesigns can change depending on who’s talking to who about what or as a character grows up. it’s not the same as a nickname but there can be nicknames in asl if established

if your character is holding something in their hands and needs to use ASL there are options. Have them tuck it in their arm or set it down. Have them use it when they sign as part of the sign. Though this requires fluency in sign. You could also have the character use one handed signs but this requires both fluency and knowing kind of what the person is talking about already like a friend or family member

if the character is holding something they can’t set down easily or at all for some reason. they will be unable to communicate with someone who is unable to hear until the object is set down. this happens in real life as well.

it takes 3 years to become conversational but if you are honestly trying most will be patient enough to fingerspell a lot

some people sign fast. asking them to slow down is frustrating to us but some will. it literally depends on the individual’s personality and past experiences

sign users often have accents due to what they learned or didn’t learn or growing up in a certain area or simply their personality. you can give your character a sign accent but like, put thought into why it’s the way it is. did they learn from a hearing teacher or a Deaf teacher?

consider the space your characters are in. siging space is a big bubble around your head and chest. this means you need to be able to hold your fully extended arms to the side and above your head. ASL users will stand a farther apart so that they have room to sign in front of them and watch the other person’s signing back.

yelling in ASL is louder and farther away, possibly looser due to being upset. ‘whispering’ takes a few extra steps like huddling or walking away.

I prefer to just translate it to English than try to gloss it or write out every sign. Taking into consideration the visual and physical, positive and negative aspects of ASL, you can still translate it to English

if you have your character obviously speaking or communicating ineffectively for some reason make sure to let the d/Deaf mun is okay with it. we already have Dinner Table Syndrome in real life, some don’t want to RP it. it’s like trans people don’t want to RP misgendering even if it “makes sense in context”

ineffective communication can include: a character mumbling or turning away. wearing a mask. not being able to see the person’s torso and face. an environment dim lighting.

if a hearing person corrects you, run it by a Deaf person first because there are hearing people who learning Deaf culture incorrectly and will white knight for us for no reason

if your character isn’t from Amercia they might not know ASL but another form of sign. Think of it like an English person learning a a language with similar roots. some words are shared or rather obvious many aren’t because it is literally an entire different language that developed

#here you go.#please reblog it uwu

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loopy777 · 4 years ago

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Nickelodeon gives you the task of writing a series based on Korra's earthbending successor with no limits on what you can do. How would you write his story?

Interesting that you say “his.” There’s no rule that the Avatars have to alternate gender, but at this point the fandom assumes it so much that I’d just go with it to avoid controversy.

Anyway, I’d probably turn Nickelodeon down if they wanted me to write Korra’s successor. I have no interest in the future that seems to be getting established in LoK. I want the franchise to stay in the past forever; there’s more than enough room, and I’d even be open to throwing away the concept of “canon” to tell stories that might merely be in-universe legends.

But, I’m going to try to answer the question in good faith. If I was a professional television writer/producer, and my career depended on saying yes to this and trying to do a good job, here’s what I’d do:

Working Title: The Last Avatar

Our star is a poor Earthlands boy. The Earth Kingdom collapsed years ago, Balkanizing into a bunching of struggling nations divided up haphazardly among various tribes, local cultures, and convenient geographical groupings. Our Boy is an Earthbender, but he hasn’t pursued any official training because it’s largely a waste of time and money. Instead, he’s been working his way through an education, learning about robotics and spirit-energy, because demand is high for that knowledge. He repairs old robots for spare money, and even has his own glitchy assistant -- who can transform into a van -- who he likes to trash-talk to show his love. He’s a huge nerd.

Actually, the only reason he can defend himself with Earthbending at all is because of a classmate and friend who’s passed on her own lessons. This girl is one of seventeen young adults who currently use the Beifong name. She’s a Metalbender using her ability to innovate with circuitry, very interested in technology and business, but she also values some of the old ways and thinks Bending is an important part of Earth culture that should not be ignored.

Our Boy knows he’s not the Avatar because the Avatar is a super-famous influencer, activist, pop-singer, and advertising icon. She lives in the Fire Nation and has green hair. You should picture Hatsune Miku for her. There are bigger celebrities, and none of her movies have been huge hits, but the Avatar still has enough culture significance that she was born famous and has managed to stay in the news.

By the way, Fire Nation culture is dominant. All the best stuff comes from the Fire Nation. Their movies, television, music, and video games are popular all over the world. Their technology is better. Their quality is life is better. They have the best doctors, the fastest internet, bigger apartments, the most prestigious schools, and the best jobs. Immigration is limited by law, in order to maintain their high quality of life.

The United Republic and the Water Tribes have seized some former Earth Kingdom territory, so their influence has expanded. The United Republic invested heavily in technology, and they’re now a dystopian cyberpunk nightmare with a government that just does whatever its corporations say. The president of the United Republic is a position that rich men use to become richer. The Water Tribes are a lot better, having managed to transition to a constitutional monarchy and maintain something like a balance between life and technology.

Note that I didn’t say “spirituality and technology,” because the two are one. All technology is spirit-powered. Spirits can meld with the internet. Spirits can inhabit robot bodies. Spirits and humans meet in abstract Virtual Realities where the difference between the two disappears.

And all of this orderly chaos is set to collapse when Our Boy accidentally Firebends during a dangerous action moment. He and Beifong Girl realize he might be the Avatar. But Hatsune Miku has demonstrated command of all four elements. On separate occasions she’s been seen and filmed Earthbending, Firebending, Waterbending, and Airbending, sometimes two at once. So how can Our Boy also do that?

Beifong Girl urges him to contact the Air Nation and the descendants of Avatar Aang to find out. Except, when he does with her family’s help, Dual-Benders -- warriors using two different elements -- try to kill him. He’s been betrayed by the Air Nation- and possibly the Beifong clan. His friend helps him get away, but she isn’t sure she can trust her family. They both go on the run, not sure what to do.

The mystery of what’s going on will drive the whole series. Here’s our cast:

Our Boy: The true Earthbending Avatar, completely untrained. He’s a poor nerd thrown into the deep end of a global conspiracy, but fortunately he has a robot who transforms into a van, so at least he has transporation.

Beifong Friend: Our Boy’s best friend. Not a love interest. She’s the youngest Beifong cousin, an Earthlands patriot who wants to raise the former Earth Kingdom out of its divided state using technology. She’s also far too gentle for her family of power-hungry vipers, but she’s still a great Earthbender and will become a Metalbender warrior before the end.

Fake Avatar Hatsune Miku: An artificial biological/spiritual construct of the Red Lotus, able to Bend two elements at any one time by swapping out a set of four spirits (all of whom are intelligent, devoted solely to her, and have different personalities), and the center of a conspiracy that she’s the Avatar. The Red Lotus built her and are using her to advance their plans. She joins the hunt for Our Boy, officially decrying him as a Disciple of a Vaatu cult trying to destroy humanity. However, she eventually begins to have thoughts of her own and resent how she’s used and abused as a tool rather than a person. She becomes our Deuteragonist, going rogue and having her own journey and arcs that intersect with Our Boy. Depending on fandom reaction, she might becomes Our Boy’s love interest, but might also become just another friend. She eventually frees her spirit friends, giving up all Bending powers.

Water Sage-Candidate: A young man who is training to be a Water Sage/Shaman. He’s a new-age hippie type who distrusts technology but likes people and spirits, wanting everyone to be nicer and more supportive to each other. He’s suspicious of what’s going on with this supposed Vatuu cult, despite his master (a Red Lotus infiltrator) telling him to trust in the true Avatar. When Our Boy and his friends come to Water Tribe territory, he joins up with them to help expose the truth.

Air Detective: An Airbender, a master detective and manhunter, who has been tasked with helping to track down Our Boy. It turns out she’s honest and completely ignorant of what’s really going on, so as she hunts Our Boy, she realizes the greater conspiracy at work- one that seems to have set its sights on the Air Nation back during the height of Avatar Korra’s influence. She’s older than the main cast and largely separate from them, but she does spend a lot of time with Fake Avatar Hatsune Miku and becomes something of a mentor to her. She struggles balancing Airbender ideals and her own cynicism about humanity, and is probably the best fighter in the story.

The Red Lotus: Our villains. They have infiltrated every level of every government in the world, and have figured how to replicate what Raava did with Wan- use a melding between spirits and humans to swap out Bending powers. They have managed to get up to a human/spirit combo being able to actively use two at a time, but they’re hot on replicating the full Avatar experience. The idea is that they eventually want to give everyone full Avatar powers, ruining the office of the Avatar and empowering everyone with the strength to topple governments and businesses. Any single person can knock over a building and kill thousands. And for those who are incompatible with the melding process and explode- well, those are necessary losses. Red Lotus foot soldiers will often have, as one of their two elements, Firebending.

Red Lotus Traitor: A NonBender history nerd from a Red Lotus family. The more he sees as he’s initiated into the family business, the more horrified he becomes, but he successfully manages to hide it- which is good, because recruits who balk tend to wind up dead in ‘accidents.’ When Our Boy comes to the Fire Nation, he and his friends encounter the Traitor, which brings them to the Red Lotus’s attention, but the Traitor finally breaks free and gets the group out, joining them.

Boss Red Lotus: The leader of the Red Lotus. A NonBender. She and her family -- siblings, a father or mother we can maybe tie to a character in LoK, and maybe a kid or spouse -- are running the whole show and have inherited the plan that the Red Lotus are executing. What separates Boss Red Lotus is her personal investment in Fake Avatar Hasune Miku. She thinks of herself as Miku’s mother, and has become more interested in creating a higher form of life than merely giving humanity Avatar powers. She grows more obsessed when Miku goes rogue and commissions a more advanced clone.

Fake Love Interest: A love interest for Our Boy who is a little bit weird and a little bit cool, very pretty in a vaguely gothy way, and fond of bugs. This is actually Koh in disguise as a human, and the romance doesn’t work out. It will be awesome, trust me.

The bulk of the series is Our Boy and his growing group of friends tooling around the world in their robot-van, chased by Fake Avatar Hatsune Miku and the Airbender Detective, slowly uncovering the Red Lotus conspiracy and eventually rising up to save the world with the help of everyone who isn’t evil. The setting is dark and inspired by science-fiction, and there’s a theme of rediscovering the past, but the past doesn’t always hold the solution. Sometimes, the past merely contains the mistakes that led to today’s problems. The redemption of the world usually comes from getting in touch with the culture of the past, and mixing that with the wondrous new technology available today.

The ending I’m envisioning is a kind of embracing of the Red Lotus’s plan, but a non-destructive form. Everyone gets all four elements, but no one is killed by it, and the power level is completely normal. The Avatar, though, is the sole person to be able to Energybend, and it’s this role -- being able to explore the limitless potential of humanity -- that makes the Avatar important going forward. The significant Red Lotus are all sucked into hell or the Fog of Lost Souls or something, except for those who die outright, with the rest being rehabilitated.

Romance will be downplayed, aside from the fakeout with Koh, but if any of the recurring characters show some chemistry, there’s room to develop it. The Fake Avatar Hatsune Miku should be designed to be the audience’s tortured, angsty, badass waifu.

The next level of development for these ideas should come from the Concept Artist team, especially focusing on the weapons used in this setting. This will be followed by a more detailed revision by me with major plot points, and then going to the writers’ room for development of the first season. Entire characters or concepts may disappear or be added during that time.

Merchandising should emphasize the Tron Lines on everyone’s clothing that glow when Bending. Also, the Robot Van can be expanded to a whole line of transforming robots toys, although the word “transform” should not appear in any official material. We see video games as a major licensing opportunity, with a possibility for “canon” stories set in the same time period, intersecting with the cartoon’s main plot. To this end, final character designs should perhaps be modeled on voice actors, so that face scans or motion capture can be employed for AAA video game appearances.

And that’s my pitch.

#Anonymous #warning: i don't hold back with this

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marginal-notes · 4 years ago

Note

I in response to your flamethrower comment, they have a cooler on Boiling Rock, which mean they have pretty good cooling system if the air outside is so hot. That means they know how to liquify some gases, assuming they just aren't hauling huge chunks of ice or something. So they probably do have the technology for flamethrowers(maybe). But from the show, they just seems to prefer chucking flaming rocks, which tbh, is easier.

You’ve unlocked my brother’s and my “cannons? Cannons?? WHY AREN’T THERE CANNONS????” discussion with a partial side of me crying at my screen about “what is the state of chemistry in this world at this point, ATLA, ANSWER ME.”

This is going to be long.

~~~

Some quick Googling:

A good portion of modern flamethrowers work by having pressurized gas pump out a liquid fuel which is ignited.

So what does this mean within ATLA?

1) They can pressurize gas. Apparently people have figured out how to compress air since the mid-19th century. This is around the time period I’ve been pegging ATLA to reflect so that works out.

2) They can mass produce stuff on an industrial scale. Hi, I’m still not over how Zhao hauled over 100 warships to the North Pole. THE LOGISTICS OF THAT. THE SCALE OF THAT. COORDINATING ALL THOSE ORDERS. THAT’S LIKE BRINGING THE ENTIRE SPANISH ARMADA TO BRITAIN.

But the navy does prove the Fire Nation has the ability to produce standardized equipment and parts. A ship needs so many rivets. There are harbors in the Fire Nation entirely dedicated to building and repairing these ships and they must be doing super interesting things to the social fabric of the nation. Also, Jesus, where are they getting all this metal from. Where are they getting all their fabric from for the uniforms. If the Fire Nation ever loses its colonies, a lot of people would be foaming at the mouth with anger.

Anyways, check that off too.

3) They want to use them. Which.

~~~

The presence of benders must really mess up the advance of technology. Bad enough that irl, before the West came smashing in, the Far East had barely any interest or initiative in developing these kinds of technology. To be fair, they weren’t constantly murdering each other through wars the way Europe did. But still. How do we clear out this mountain for our tunnels? Get an earthbender. How do we filter this water? Get a waterbender too. How do we set these people on fire and wreck psychological devastation upon the enemy by burning all their cover? Get a bunch of firebenders.

No extra equipment necessary. No oil fuel needed. No hauling around supply chains that aren’t food. If they’re around, just grab a bunch of benders.

But what about the nonbending population? Personally, I’ve always felt that benders are a minority of the population, though an elite minority. If earthbenders were all over the place, Master Yu would not be able to get away with his scamming that easily. Nonbenders are going to need tools when there isn’t the requisite bender conveniently around.

(Jesus, the social tension that must be constantly shimmering over this dynamic and its effects upon the job markets.)

And frankly, in war? There will be times where sheer quantity overpowers quality. Longbows can devastate crossbows, thanks to superior range. But if the longbows aren’t there? Tons of people quickly trained with crossbows and other ranged weaponry are going to start winning.

Emergencies like war are like a super fuel to rapid invention. Nothing motivates people to figure out tool and processes like the threat of thousands and millions of your people dying every day.

So where the fuck are the cannons.

~~~

Here’s where my brain keeps smashing against the limits imposed by the audience ATLA is intended for plus the pure reality of storytelling. ATLA works very well partially because it doesn’t go into all these details. There aren’t many filler episodes. It stays on track with the narrative. It doesn’t veer off into tangents. And I love it for that.

But why does the Earth Kingdom suck so badly at responding to the Fire Nation?

(There are plenty of easy valid answers. My primary justifications are a) Aang is the protagonist and thus warps the narrative around him and b) one hundred years of on and off war kills the best and the brightest of all the militaries.)

Benders can only throw rocks so far. That throw is only going to have so much force behind it. Excellent benders can move incredibly heavy weights, so presumably with smaller rocks they can sling those very fast. But its still not a cannon.

The most powerful catapults and trebuchets could throw up to around 1000-1500 feet.

During the American Civil War, a cannon used can hit something a mile away. During WW1, artillery could hit something 80 miles away.

The key inventions necessary include a) an ability to bore precise rifling, b) at least gunpowder in mass quantities, and c) different types of shells to taste.

(Side note from the brother: The Fire Nation might not have the natural resources for all the gunpowder necessary to hand out rifles to everyone plus feed all the artillery. I counter him with the fact that the Fire Nation made significant territorial gains into the Earth Kingdom continent and they were not losing that territory. Anyways.)

If the Fire Nation navy is able to shoot out grappling hooks from their ships, I honestly canNOT understand why they still use trebuchets. Those things require so much open space around them for the arm to operate and get top ranges. You might as well set up a bunch of cannons in that space. Want a fireball of death still? Put blasting jelly or other fire-starting materials within the shells. Hey, they definitely know how to make bombs for their airships. Buddy.

For god’s sake, they figured out hydraulics and maybe gyroscopes for their tanks. WHY ARE THEY STILL USING CATAPULTS. THAT’S STUPID.

~~~

Here’s what’s not stupid.

The use of new technology will always ruffle the feathers of members among the old guard.

The use of this kind of modern technology will fundamentally change the entire nature of war.

And these kinds of changes? They reverberate through society. Benders are no longer the only cream of the crop among the military. If the social hierarchy depends in part on bending ability, which I bet the Fire Nation’s been using for the last century plus, then this technology is, literally, revolutionary.

And that’s not pretty.

#the blah blahs #long post #as much as this drives me crazy #i'm glad ATLA didn't do this #ATLA is not a military story #i'm not kidding #Aang could have been COMPLETELY obsolete by the time he woke up #if the EK and FN were super dedicated to massacring each other the way Europe was #however this would make benders within the respective armies #also obsolete #so you know ¯\_(ツ)_/¯#but yeah i've been thinking about this a lot #because frankly given the FN military industrial capacities #where are the rifles #and more importantly #WHERE ARE THE STEAMPUNK AUS #Anonymous

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theloyaltyofthewolves · 4 years ago

Text

tag info!

hi lovelies! i’ve gotten quite a few questions abt my tagging system (for those of u who don’t pay attention to that sort of thing/only use mobile, this is my tags page) over the last few days + i thought i’d try to condense all of your questions into a single post to make it nice and convenient. pls feel free to reach out if i missed smth!

1. what are your tags from and what do they mean?

individual tags:

this is not your destruction bang chan

a tag for chan + the bravery + terror that must have accompanied his flight into stray kids. he has poured everything he has into them. they are his one shot, his only shot. his life, his blood, his greatest creation and sacrifice. this tag, which comes from nothing other than my brain, is a kind reminder to him that no matter how dark it gets, stray kids are an act of love and so will never be a mistake.

learn to dance; it is your birthright

a tag for minho. im a terrible person and can’t quite recall where or who i took it from, but i believe it was originally in french. minho came from nothing, built himself on nothing. the strength in his spine comes from suffering and endurance: living through all that life has thrown at you, getting up every single time it has knocked him down. and it has knocked him down over and over and over again. but each time, he gets back up. wipes the blood off his chin. dances. because he is owed this, this expression of love and life and control, one of the most fundamental parts of the human experience. minho dances because he is owed it, because he knows that it his right.

there is no sacrifice

my tag for changbin, from a longer piece by arianna reines. the original quote goes ‘there is no sacrifice. you have got to want to live. you have got to force yourself to want to.’ perhaps a little dark, but i believe it reflects the resolution with which changbin throws himself at life. there is no uncertainty in seo changbin. that’s why he’s stray kids’ anchor, their backbone. he’s uncompromising, devoted, resilient.

gutted and rising

for hyunjin, my very favorite embodiment of the fragility of being human. once again, his tag is from a much longer quote by katie ford: don’t say it’s the beautiful i praise. i praise the human, gutted and rising. quite honestly, it is one of my favorite lines of literature in the entire world for how vulnerable and honest it is in its devotion to the human spirit. and that’s of course what i love so much about hyunjin. he is beautiful yes, but he also breakable and delicate and sensitive and irrational and ridiculous and dramatic and sweet and so unbelievably human. such a gentle soul who has seen some of the very worst that humanity has to offer, who has been beaten down and forced to kneel. who has grown tall enough and strong enough to push himself up off the floor and keep going, scarred and gutted and soft and rising.

all you have is your fire

if uve spent a single second on this blog you will probably know that i have a serious love affair with what a walking contradiction han jisung is. he is so many impossibilities in so little physical form. fierce and shy and angry and brilliant and brave and scared and small and bright. han jisung is on fire all the time. it burns deep within him, burns him from the inside out. you can see it when he enters a room, walks on stage, opens his mouth. the core of him, all that he is, this burning burning burning energy, it flares around him, casts him in gold and red and orange. call it courage, call it fire, call it light, call it whatever you want. it is all that jisung has, just as it is all that small things have.

if there is a light im going to swallow it

this is for seungmin, and it comes from yet another one of my favorite pieces of literature. a poem called ‘blasphemies at the 5th street station’ by s. osborn and if there was ever a poem i would like you to read, it would be this one. seungmin’s particular tag comes from the final verse: ‘if there is a light, then i’m going to swallow it. if there is a god, then i’m going to eat him whole.’ appropriate for someone like seungmin who cannot be kept on his knees and who has always existed in a way that is uniquely his own. no authority, no god, no force of good or evil could bend seungmin to its will because he is simply not to be bound.

i have loved the stars too fondly

oh yongbokie. his tag fits him so well that it always makes me choke up just a little when i use it. it’s from a famous poem by sarah williams, most likely one that you have heard at least in passing. the poem details a message left by an astronomer on his deathbed to his pupil. “though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light. i have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.” which, to be honest, is so incredibly lee yongbok that i’m not sure i could clarify it any further.

as above so below

jeongin’s tag comes from an age-old saying, one of those idioms that is so ancient, its originator has been long-forgotten. it is often attributed to religious or spiritual meanings, but i like it just find secular. at its essence, the quip describes the integral connection between everything small and big. the earth and the sun, the moon and the tides, the leaf and the cell wall. the way in which things that happen happen to all, no matter how big or small or young or old. befitting of the maknae, i think. an old quote for an old soul trapped in a young kid’s body.

relationship tags:

and now the loyalty of the wolves

my very general ot8 tag, for moments when i see that little bit of more that filters through stray kids and their unrepentant love for one another. yet another reference to their growth: looking at where they are versus where they once were. stray dogs, nothing more than street hounds, scrappy and feral and dismissed. they did not belong, nor have they ever belonged. but they have grown. now, when they stand on stage, they fill it out. they draw attention and turn heads. they’re still outsiders, still outcasts, still unpolished and raw and untamed. but where once were mutts are now wolves. and now the wolves. and now the loyalty of the wolves.

i will carry you home in my teeth

i’ve mentioned this previously, but this is my tag specifically for chan and his boys. it comes from a mountain goats’ song. it embodies chan’s sacrifice and devotion to his kids, his family, his lifeblood. come hell or high water, chan’s going to get them to that finish line.

do i look moderate to you?

this tag is from moderation, a trully excellent song by florence and the machine. ‘want me to love you in moderation, do i look moderate to you?’ what better pairing to fit this lyric than hyunjin and jisung? their love was born in violence and it has always been too much. the two of them have always been too much. too much anger, too much blood, too many teeth. the imprints of their fingers are pressed into each other’s chests. they have ripped each other apart, sewn each other back together. do i look moderate to you? do i look like someone who could be with you and not make you feel everything all at once?

our fate cannot be taken from us

going back to the ancients, this is a quote from dante. ‘do not be afraid. our fate cannot be taken from us; it is a gift.’ something about it has always screamed seungbin to me, something about the impossibility of their relationship. a friendship, a love, a brotherhood that should not exist and yet it does anyway, because they are too goddamn stubborn to let any force, supernatural or otherwise, make their choices for them.

2. where do ur tags come from?

the very short answer to this question is: everywhere! movies, lyrics, poetry, tumblr posts. i have a pretty long and pretty comprehensive list of tiny pieces of writing that have stayed with me over the years. i look to it often for hope or writing advice or tattoo ideas.

3. can we see it?

nope. a, it’s too long to conveniently post on tumblr. b, it’s organized categorically in a way that works for my brain, but is unlikely to work for others. c, a lot of it is personal and Not For All Eyes. however, if you do want quotes or inspiration, you are always welcome to ask. give me an idea of what you’re looking for, a mood or an experience, a moment or an emotion, and i’ll do my best. (i also have a secret writing inspiration blog that, were there to be enough interest, i may make publicly available)

4. okay then, can we have at least a few recommendations for songs or other works that have inspired you?

it depends on what you’re looking for. what kind of feelings do you want to amass listening or reading to something? the end of the world? the free-fall of first love? bitter heartbreak? the insignificance of human kind? tell me what you want + i will do my best to get back to you.

#i hope this answers your questions #love how much y'all r interested in this #i am obsessed with the novel tag + will use it unapologetically until i die #kisses from belle #anons #replies

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