#the main idea is brutalization in my eyes (while still being much stronger) is a lot more contained and concentrated than corruption

[frenchonionsoop]

hmmmmm thinkin about how brutalization might look

[localsharkcryptid]

LARGEST of thank yous @waterloverextreme​ for asking to hear my thoughts. This is all about characters of course but I don’t feel like putting the C! before every name-

SO! *clapping hands together* Now a pretty lengthy explanation of Sam being classic dragon coded: First off there are two main portrayals of European style dragons: Benevolent & Malevolent, Sam in fact fits both.

Starting with the benevolent, ‘good’ aligned dragons are creatures who grant protection and often wisdom - Sam originally upon joining the server often went somewhat out of his way to help people, namely Tommy much to Tommy’s dislike, and it is noted that his immense building and redstone knowledge in general made him the kind of guy people would get to help them. Sam also keeps his offer to Tommy to protect or help him if he ever needs it throughout the server events, making Sam Nook and all that.

Though this changes, drastically, with the construction of the prison and Sam’s role as the warden - turning from the benevolent to malevolent interpretation. This take on dragons is the og classic fantasy style portrayal, a giant beast of fire and wrath known for their cavernous lairs, obsessive nature towards their hoards and their lethal ire. This is the warden. The warden is the dragon that guards the vault, a prison of blackstone and lava, traps and tricks, rare valuables built into it’s very foundation with netherite blocks. Sam as the warden is more serious, the kind nature gone almost entirely shoved away by sense of duty to protect- for the greater good, he knows everyone that enters, everyone that leaves, and if anything is ever amiss or stolen from his lair. His anger flares more so as the warden, he leaves nothing to chance and threats are to be dealt with. violently. While yes there are other guards of the vault but the warden never truly leaves, after all a dragon never leaves what it guards for long. Adorned in neigh impenetrable armor and armed with lethal weapons, his appearance does only aid the comparison considering dragon scales are said to be stronger than any metal and their teeth and claws sharper and more lethal than any weapon of man. Oh yeah and the whole hostage situation thing with Ranboo and Michael, kidnaping is another signature. Also it’s not uncommon in folktales for dragons to have been employed or utilized to guard something and ultimately being slain for it, which works with cannon and a personal idea of mine but I will save my tie in rant for a technical au scene/dragon slayer Punz for another day.

With how I see it, he is a benevolent dragon turned malevolent through drastic measures and his own need to protect- no matter the cost. The vault brings out a side of him that is far more brutal and cold- reptilian even- than his true nature.

Along with this, his technical immortality falls in line as well, while Sam’s is through body swapping it is still immortality- much like how most dragons are portrayed as almost ageless beasts that only become more powerful as they live. Considering my headcanons Sam follows that as well- every body being a better improvement from the last. Golden armor being apart of his base design usually, gold being eternally connected to dragons.

Both his deaths as well fall in line with methods from dragon slaying legends - struck through the eye [one of the few universal weakpoints on a dragon] and generally collapsing to numerous wounds after, left to die if you will.

Now falling into personal headcanon territory: Within my own take on them Creepers are an apex predator species that has in the modern era split off into numerous sub-species to adapt to the various biomes BUT they do have a common ancestor within the histories. Referred to as The Draken Spawn this ancient ‘origin’ beast was said to be a creature of fire and destruction, a spawn of dragons left to the world since it could not fly. With my personal design for Sam, his current body for the events of the dsmp is a genetically modified “hybrid” of numerous creeper variants: a botched Draken Spawn effectively. That’s more just design symbolism though.

There’s probably more notes I can’t remember at the moment but yeah, the creeper man is dragon coded and I swear one day I’m gonna make a cool comic thing with this concept.

[bamfdaddio]

X-Men Abridged: 1981

The X-Men, those back-to-the-future mutants that have sworn to protect a world that hates and fears them, are a cultural juggernaut with a long, tangled history. Want to unravel this tapestry? Then read the Abridged X-Men!

(Uncanny X-Men 141 - 152) - by Chris Claremont and John Byrne, Brent Anderson, Dave Cockrum, Jim Sherman, Bob McLeod and Josef Rubinstein

While I also committed various fashion atrocities at the age of 14 (tye-die and fauxhawks, oh my), even Liberace would find Kitty’s outfits too much. (Uncanny X-Men 149; Uncanny X-Men Annual ‘81)

We dial back from the v. epic scope of the last few arcs. Instead, 1981 is just a lot of fun! We get:

Storm and Emma doing a Freaky Friday!

the X-Men vs. Magneto (again!)

A surprisingly effective Alien rip-off

An dystopian future! (OoOoOoOo)

Last year was the year of the Dark Phoenix, this is the year of Kitty Pryde. That’s not to say Jean’s death is swept under the rug: all throughout, we see her friends mourning her loss or remembering her fondly. (Scott even gets to have a demonic adventure about it.) But in general, Claremont puts Kitty in the forefront, fleshing out his YA-addition to the team. And what would a YA heroine be without a grim dystopia? Roll out the iconic Days of Future Past!

To be fair, 2013 was a dark time for all of us: What Does the Fox Say somehow got to the top of the charts and I was still watching Glee. (Uncanny X-Men 141)

How cool would it have been to see a name like Jonothon Starsmore or Eva Bell on those tombstones?

Anyway, that’s Kate. Kate’s had it rough. Mutants are at the bottom of the foodchain, most X-Men are dead and only a small cadre of resistance fighters remain, Sentinels dominate, and while she is married to Piotr, her children have been murdered. Bleak. Luckily, the rebellion has concocted the plan to shunt Kate’s spirit back in time to prevent this awful future from happening. (You’ve seen Days of Future Past, the last passably good X-Men film, you know what’s up.)

Let’s do the time warp again! 1981!Kitty’s mind gets taken over by 2013!Kitty, who promptly tries to convince the X-Men that a new Brotherhood of v. Evil Mutants will try to kill Senator Kelly, a presidential candidate who tries to put the mutant menace on the agenda. (Mutants tend to blow stuff up when he’s around.) Since the X-Men recently took a literal trip to Dante’s Infero and also befriended a cosmic world-ending entity, they basically shrug and go: “Yeah, this checks out.”

Off to Washington they go (zoommm) and there, they happen upon the Baddest Bitches in Herstory:

“How dare you hate mutants, senator Kelly! We’ll fix that by killing you!” (Uncanny X-Men 141)

This All-New, All-Different Brotherhood consists out of:

Destiny, a blind woman who can see the future. Definitely the eeriest member of this group. Badass lesbian, though that won´t be canon for years.

Avalanche. Greek who makes things shake. Is a long-standing member of the X-Men Rogue’s gallery, but rarely features in the spotlight. I think he got more characterization in four years of X-Men Evolution than he ever did in the comics.

Mystique. Shapeshifter. Ruthless and unhinged, the Cersei Lannister of the X-Men universe. Absolute legend, secretly the wife of Destiny, currently not as unhinged as she’ll be later. Immediately implied to be related to Nightcrawler: it’s the yellow-eyes-blue-skin-combo.

Pyro. Can manipulate fire, not create it. Absolute pillock, in all the best ways of the word. Originally intended as gay, but they decided to make him Australian instead. (?!)

Blob. Big, strong, immovable. We’ve seen him before.

One of the details in this fight I enjoy is that Storm is still struggling with her leadership, although she has a better grip on things than Cyclops:

Wolverine then proceeds to use those iconic but deadly claws about twice per issue for the next, oh, forty years. (Uncanny X-Men 142)

While the X-Men fight the Brotherhood in the present, we cut back and forth to the future. There, the X-Men consist out of some familiar faces - Storm, Colossus, Wolverine - and some surprises: Magneto (in a wheelchair), Franklin Richards (son of) and an unfamiliar ginger girl called Rachel. (She’ll be important later.) We even learn (one of) Magneto’s names: this is the first time he’s canonically called Magnus.

One of the strengths of Days of Future Past lies in its brevity, the way it tantalizingly taunts us with a brutal but familiar future without giving away too much. It’s single-handedly responsible for all those dark future timelines the X-lines are so fond of which will eventually culminate in time-displaced grandsons from alternative dimensions and the impossibility of a succinct answer to the question: “Who’s Cable?” Too much of a good thing and all that.

Still, what Days of Future Past does so successfully is:

Put the idea of the mutant menace back at the forefront, hammering home the metaphor of mutants being a minority. Mutants being put in camps and being forbidden to breed should - regretfully - make us think of all too many real life equivalents. (Specifically, all of the imagery harkens back to the Holocaust.)

It starkly shows what happens should the X-Men lose, reminding everyone of the stakes. The X-Men are here for a reason: bridging the gap between mutants and humankind. If they fuck up, we end up with mutant concentration camps.

It helps that the X-Men in the future almost all die horribly: Franklin is incinerated, Storm is impaled… It's brutal stuff. The only one to survive is Rachel, who wonders if their plan actually changed the future or if they created an alternative timeline. (It did the latter, sorry ‘bout it, Rachel.)

In the present, Kate chases after Destiny, who trains a gun on senator Kelly. I always wondered how this works: if Destiny saw the future, she knew that killing Kelly would trigger a terrifying future. What in the current Marvel timeline made her decide that the Days of Future Past was better? Did she see her own death? Did she see the Onslaught-crossover coming? The Chuck Austen run? What was it?

In any case, time-anomalous Kate stops Destiny from killing Kelly and the future is safe! For now. Kate disappears, Kitty returns to her body and some of the Brotherhood are apprehended. All is well, for now.

After being a key figure in DoFP, Kitty is also the main character in the Christmas special, which is basically a straight up horror and a pastiche of the Alien-movie.

Seriously, John Byrne still isn’t sure why he wasn’t sued by Ridley Scott for this. (Uncanny X-Men 143)

If you love Kitty Pryde? Read this issue. If you’re not convinced you like 80’s Kitty? Read this issue. It’s not continuity relevant and it’s basically Kitty playing the part of a Final Girl in a horror where she’s being chased by a demon, but it’s so good. It showcases all her strengths and her foibles. Kitty’s intelligent, cute (sometimes preciously so) and brave, but she’s also young, self-conscious and hot-headed. And it's not as if the other X-Men automatically adore her: Storm berates her all the time, she’s afraid of Kurt because of the way he looks (though she grows out of that) and she fights with Professor Xavier a lot. Moreover, she has a clever power-set for a young superhero who faces menaces on a daily basis: a thirteen year old who can go intangible is far less likely to have reality ensue on her and be dramatically offed because she's better at protecting herself.

I’m sure there are people who thought Sprite was hogging the spotlight, but I, for one, say she brings more to the table than, say, Angel. She’s not the Dawn Summers of this franchise.

Scott also gets a side quest. Poor guy can’t catch a break: first the love of his life dies, so he quits the X-Men, then he realizes he can’t do much else than be a superhero. He becomes a sailor on the ship of spunky captain Lee Forrester, is drawn into the sadistic plans of a demon unironically named D’Spayre and then shipwrecks in Bermuda with Lee.

The X-Men, meanwhile, are tormented by a team-up of Doom (who’s currently Latverialess and working on a comeback) and Arcade, that annoying crony. Locke, Arcade’s dom, has kidnapped the loved ones of the X-Men (Moira MacTaggart, Jean Grey’s parents, Illyana Rasputin and Amanda Sefton) in order to blackmail them into getting Doom to free Arcade. Apparently, Arcade accidentally insulted Doom and DOOM DOES NOT FORGIVE THAT FOLLY.

While the B-Squad (Polaris, Havok, Banshee and Iceman) goes to save Arcade’s hostages, the X-Men sneak into Doom’s castle. Well, except for Storm, who doesn’t give a single fuck and simply flies up to Doom, demanding an audience. Doom likes the cut of her jib and invites her to have dinner. (This is pre-Tinder, so this is a legit way of scoring a date.)

If Storm has a flaw (I said if!), it’s got to be her atrocious taste in men. (Uncanny X-Men 145)

The X-Men find Arcade’s cell empty, while Arcade casually saunters up to Storm and says hi. Storm realizes too late that this is a trap: while the X-Men are all trapped in Saw-like traps, Storm is encased in ‘living chrome’.

If you remember she’s claustrophobic, you know why this is a bad move.

While the X-Men free themselves from their traps - Polaris hilariously has to deal with a murderous merry-go-round - Storm is slowly driven mad in her prison, triggering a worldwide tempest. (She causes Lee and Scott to shipwreck.) Under the threat of Wolverine’s claws, Doom releases Storm - or rather, unleashes her.

“Instead of a Dark Lord, you would have a queen, not dark but beautiful and terrible as the dawn! Tempestuous as the sea, and stronger than the foundations of the earth! All shall love me and despair!” (Uncanny X-Men 147)

The memory of Jean brings Ororo back to herself and she starts undoing the superstorm she created. (If only climate change were reversed that easily.) Their confrontation ends by Storm easily forgiving Doom, because she apparently trespassed on his grounds without adequate cause.

Mkay.

All of Arcade’s hostages return to their homesteads, except for Illyana Rasputin, Piotr’s sister: she’s staying at the mansion for a while. Angel, who’s sort of been a part of the team since the Phoenix thing, has had it with Wolverine and his ‘tude, and decides to quit the X-Men : he doesn’t want to be a part of an outfit that has a killer like Wolverine on it. (Or maybe he’s just mad Claremont didn’t give him any storylines: his presence has been mostly pointless.) It’s too bad he left before Kitty started experimenting with her outfits: I bet he would have loved her ugly-ass costumes.

Equally inconsequential is the introduction of a brand new character, who then proceeds to disappear from the narrative for the rest of the year:

Black Tom has tried to kill you at least twice, but him sending you a long-lost daughter doesn’t give you pause? Ugh, Sean, you deserve Moira. (Uncanny X-Men 148)

Intrigued by Theresa? TOO BAD, WON’T SEE HER AGAIN ANYTIME SOON.

Another new character is the lonely, decidedly mutant looking Caliban, who can sense “people like him” and is on the lookout for companions. Like many lonely people who try and grasp at friendship, he decides to overshoot his shot and ruin the night of Storm, Kitty and Jessica Drew at a Dazzler concert. Because he tries to kidnap Kitty, the girls react a trifle aggressively. When they realize their mistake - the eerily pale Caliban is a simpleton rather than a menace - he’s already fled. No mention is made of the Morlocks yet!

There’s also another dull annual where the X-Men team up with the Fantastic Four to save Arkon’s dimension from the Badoon and yaaaaawn. Far more interesting is the landmark issue #150. Slowly, through the adventures of Scott and Lee Forrester, Claremont has been setting things up for the return of a favorite villain. While the X-Men investigate Magneto’s old base in Antarctica on a hunch of Professor X and tangle with Garruk, Scott and Lee survive Storm’s tempest, only to wake up next to a strange island that seems to have been raised from the ocean.

It’s apparently some ancient citadel from a long forgotten civilization with a fondness for squid statues. (I don’t know man, I’ve never been to the Bermuda Triangle, maybe this is just super-accurate.)The tentacles make Lee Forrester feel very amorous, but before Scott can tell her he is way too repressed to just have sex with an attractive someone he’s known intimately for a month or two, Magneto saves his ass by revealing he, in fact, raised this island from the seafloor.

Oh, Magneto. So extra.

My ambitious little mutant demagogue then proceeds to take the entire world hostage, showing how much he’s grown from the pompous, raving madman from the sixties. (Sure, Magneto is still a bit of a madman, but increasingly, he starts being on the right side of history.)

“I’m trying to make Magneto more sympathetic.”

“Just put him on a page with some bigger villains who are less noble, like the Vanisher, Count Nefaria, or…”

“Reagan, Thatcher and Brezhnov?”

“Er.” (Uncanny X-Men 150)

It’s obvious Magneto is being pivoted as a more noble villain, codified into the well-intentioned extremist we know and love today. Not only do we get the first hints at his past, fleshing out his motivations, he’s also not wrong. Humans are historically not great at taking care of the planet or each other.

When the Russians call his bluff and launch nukes at Magneto’s new island, he quickly disarms them. His retribution is swift and ferocious: the entire citadel is a machine that massively amplifies his powers. He sinks the submarine that launched the missiles, condemning the entire crew to death, and he casually erects a vulcano in a Russian city in Siberia.

Damn. Not messing around this time.

Despite his good intentions, Magneto is still definitely in the wrong: not only because of his methods, but as Scott points out: if Magneto unifies the world under his kind of benevolent dictatorship, all of that will simply fall apart as soon as Magnus dies.

In a way, Magneto is just as big a dreamer as Charles is: Charles believes in peace and integration, whereas Magneto believes his iron fist will be enough to make a perfect world happen. Both of them ignore the reality that acceptance is difficult and messy, because you’re trying to change essential human nature: the fear of the other. Magneto believes in big, sweeping gestures that will fix the world in move, while changing the world is also boring, hard work. One step forward, two steps back. Magneto just wants to leapfrog to his ultimate goal.

The X-Men fly over the citadel, returning from Antarctica, and their plane crashes into the ocean. (Magneto does not brook planes over his territory, humans!) The Professor is also nearby, looking for Scott with Moira, Peter Corbeau and Carol Danvers. The X-Men sneak onto the island, but to their horror, their powers are nullified by some machine of Magneto. They reunite with Scott, who formulates a plan to thwart the would-be ruler of the world.

While the rest of the X-Men go to trash the machine, Storm, Kitty and Lee infiltrate the control chamber where Storm finds a sleeping, shirtless Magneto. Once again showing her terrible taste in men, she is not weak in the knees at the sight of a sleeping Magnus: instead, she contemplates killing him.

Storm knows how dangerous he is, but she also knows that he’s a great man who’s fighting for ideals, no matter how misguided. She hesitates too long: Magneto stirs, suspects an attack and tosses her out of the window, to her death.

Magneto quickly undoes the sabotage the other X-Men have wrought to his machine. A fight erupts. Storm, meanwhile, has managed to grab hold of a ledge. She crawls back up and smashes an important-looking computer, restoring everyone’s powers.

The battle turns grim, but Scott sends Kitty away to wreck Magneto’s machinery. She sneaks off, following Scott’s orders and destroying both Magneto's power-up device and all of his plans by phasing though the computer circuitry. Magneto senses this and furiously gives chase. Overcome by rage, he attacks Kitty and disrupts her phasing power with a magnetic bolt, seemingly killing her?

Everything about this story beat is great: mama bear!Ororo, mournful Magnus and even the fact that Kitty’s godawful outfit serves a narrative function: highlighting to us (and Magneto) just how young she is. The fact that Kitty’s Jewish is just icing on the cake. (Uncanny X-Men 150)

And thus, the softening of Magneto commences. 1981 might be a year with wildly varying narratives, but it has given us at least three enduring legacies to the X-Mythos: a new kind of Magneto, a fondness for dystopian futures and the character of Kitty Pryde, who's really come into her own this year.

Ugliest Costume: Kitty! Purposefully, but still. Best costume, by the way, goes to Destiny, with her creepy, creepy golden mask. Just imagine this lady casually strolling across a battlefield, eerily calm and collected, dodging everything you throw at her. Awesome design.

Best new character: I usually pick one character - what good is having a shared award when declaring the best of anything? - but this year, it’s going to one of my favorite couples: Mystique and Destiny. Can’t wait to see more of them.

Most audacious retcon: Blob somehow retroactively becomes a member of the original Brotherhood, which is not what happened. Ever weirder is Xavier pondering that he never met Magneto before his attack in X-Men #1, while their cordially adversarial relationship rooted in a youthful friendship would soon become a cornerstone of the X-Men.

What to read: Uncanny X-Men 141 - 143 and 150 - 152

[moonctzeny]

Cygnus

pairing: royal!ten  x fem!reader x villain!doyoung

genre: angst, smutty elements but not anything too much

word count: 4,8k

warnings: ‘forced’ marriage, mentions of death, blood, stabbing (not too descriptive I promise), manipulation

summary: “When your father, the king, gets brutally assasinated in his royal quarters, you realise how big of a threat the opposing Indigo kingdom really is. In order to further protect both your kingdoms, prince Ten proposes a unification by proposing to you. Amidst your duty as his queen and your inappropriate meetups with your royal advisor, Doyoung, you’re not sure where your heart really belongs”

a/n: This fic has a lot of referencing of the past. Just to clarify: if a part is written in the past tense and is inside the separators, it’s y/n recounting past events

requested by/written for my dear French Anon ❤️❤️ I hope you like it 🥰

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The starry night spreads like a veil over the kingdom. Your kingdom, ever since your head was adorned with a veil of your own. The moonlight, pale and bright, illuminates all the stories of the night. From the mothers that kiss their children goodnight, praying that the impending war doesn’t find them in their adolescence, to the whispering silhouettes of the King’s traitors, plotting with the opposing kingdom to overrule his reign.

Like the weeping willows of your royal garden, you sit alone in the dance hall’s balcony, gazing at the sky’s unknown that always felt so comfortable to you. How dull and drab you must look, even in the ornate gown you were in, amidst all the decorations and joyous music of your wedding’s one year anniversary. Maids, peasants, guards- they all congratulated you on your happy marriage, wishing the queen a long life of prosperity. Even Sirius, the prettiest diamond in the sky, seemed to shine like a spotlight for tonight’s celebration.

“y/n? It’s time for our royal dance.”

You recognized the silky voice to be that of the King’s, your longest companion other than the stars. In spite of all of your misery, Ten, the man you swore to hold in weakness and in health, till death do you part, was someone you valued deeply.

You first met the prince in your early teens, travelling to his neighboring kingdom with your father. He was still a young boy, bothered with the blemishes on his face and excited to play with the snow covering the windowsills of his room. The only person who could relate with the insecurities and troubles of an heir like yourself.

“Why are the peasants hungry while we throw away most of our food?”

"Why does the Indigo kingdom want to declare war on us when we both have enough wealth to live on?"

 "Do you think that when we grow up, we will become just like our parents?"

The prince was thoughtful and gentle, a pacifist in the wrong position. Talented in the arts, in dance, in anything that is as beautiful as he is.  

His beloved subjects do not know it, but the nickname Ten, was given to him by you. 

It was probably the third time you met the prince, excited to spend time with your only friend just a day before your 15th birthday. He had been bugging you over what you wanted from him as a present, the beautiful jewelry and dresses his father gifted you seeming too impersonal to him. You shook off his offers, insisting that him being there with you, in your castle’s terrace, was more than enough. 

You were gazing at your beloved stars and he was gazing at you, rambling on and on about the celestial objects in the sky.

“And what star is this?”, he asked curiously, eyes reflecting the constellations and sparkling in the night. Chittaphon, unlike the countless teachers insisting astronomy for a princess was useless, was endlessly entertained by your knowledge and always thirsty to learn more. His finger was pointing at Deneb, one of the brightest stars of the night sky.

“This star is part of a greater ten-star constellation, Cygnus”

“Cygnus?”

“It means swan in greek”, you explained and he squinted his eyes cutely, trying to find the resemblance to the bird.

“According to greek mythology, Phaethon, the son of Helios the sun god, demanded to ride his father’s sun chariot for a day. Unfortunately, he 

was unable to control the reins, forcing Zeus to destroy the chariot with a thunderbolt, with Phaethon drowning in the river Eridanus where it fell. Phaethon's lover, Cygnus, dived into the river for days on end to collect Phaethon's bones, in order to give him a proper burial. The gods were so touched by Cygnus's devotion and deep grief, that they turned him into a swan and placed him among the stars.”

Chittaphon, intrigued by the story, stopped plucking out the roots of the grass you were sitting on, and decided to lay his head comfortably on your lap. His hair looked so pretty that you couldn’t help but run your fingers through its softness, the intimacy making your heart skip a beat.

“That is my greatest fear”

You were so lost in your contentment that you’d almost miss his whispered confession. Placing your hands on his cheeks carefully, you turn his face so that he looks at you, and it takes everything in you not to lean down and kiss his pout away.

“Hm?”

“What if, when I finally take the reins of my father’s kingdom, I end up ‘drowning’ as well? What if I’m too weak to control them and someone stronger than me decides to destroy me?”

With a sigh, you look back up to the sky. As an only child and therefore sole heiress, the worry of leading a kingdom was the main cause of your night scares as well. You were just teenagers, still figuring out yourselves, but Chittaphon wasn’t some ditzy child. He didn’t care about the lushes and gold, he wasn’t power hungry. His idealism and ethos were admirable, and you felt safe knowing that when the time comes, he would be your ally.

“You’ll make a great king one day”

He smiles up at you, his happiness lighting up the night sky. He always shone the brightest.

“You really mean that?”

“I do. And if you don’t, I promise to collect your bones and bury you properly”

He laughed heartily at your joke, and you continued to braid his locks, counting the freckles on his face until your heartbeats synced with the other.

You just laid there, thinking the prince had fallen asleep in your arms, when he spoke again.

“I don’t know how, but one day I’ll gift you those ten stars. And it will be the best birthday present you’ll ever receive”

That’s how you got through adolescence, holding on to Ten’s promise, and dreaming of whatever life might offer you. And life seemed to be gentle on you, up until a couple of years ago. Up until the incident.

Ten takes your hand in his, rubbing your knuckles tenderly with his thumb, and leads you to the dance hall. The skin is scabbed and rough from you compulsively scrubbing it every time you take a bath. You’d watch the water endlessly run through your fingers, yet no amount of soap could flush the memory of the deep red of your father’s blood staining them.

It was a Friday like any other, a walk in the royal gardens at 6 and then your waltz dance class at 7. You replayed the new choreography over and over in your head, drunk in your instructor’s praises and wanting to show off. Skipping the steps of the stairwell leading up to the king’s room, you wish you had taken a jacket with you. Goosebumps started appearing on your arms, both from the cool night breeze and something else you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

Your father was the reason you started waltz lessons. “One day you’re going to marry a man to queendom and you’ll better be able to keep up with me on our father-daughter dance”. You’d just giggle and tell him you had plenty of time till that day, you were just stepping on your twenties, no reason to step on a dancefloor too! But alas, one dance recital from Ten and your father was sold on the idea of getting you to take some lessons. You chuckled to yourself. Come to think of it, your father just really loved Ten.

You reach the heavy door of his suite, opened by just a slice. While there was light coming from the room, illuminating the hallway you were standing at, there was no one guarding it. You found it a little strange that the guard’s huge frame didn’t block your way from your father like he like always did, yet you were happy. Your father always acted colder to you around him.

“Dad, dad, look what I learned toda-“

The sight of his cold, lifeless body brought you to your knees. The cause of death was obvious, with the dagger shoved deep inside his guts, but if you asked anyone in the kingdom, they’d tell you he died from a bad heart. He loved heavy food, and alcohol, the meals suited to a king. No one other than a select few could know that the king was assassinated in his own bedroom.

But that was not your only secret.

You don’t know how, but Ten has managed to finally drag you in the middle of the dance hall. Your shoes clack against the marbled floors and the music brings you momentarily back to the now that you want to escape so badly. The music sounds familiar, you think, and you stay still for a second, trying to identify the song.

Your king brings you closer, one hand steady on your waist, the other keeping your fingers intertwined. He hums to the tune and looks at you with those eyes, those dark eyes that always hold a certain sadness in them. And when he starts to lead, it finally hits you that this is the song you got engaged to.

It was Ten’s idea, actually. With the rumours of a murder travelling to the neighboring kingdoms, including the Indigo kingdom making statements of invasive strategies against you, a form of alliance was clearly needed to be made. 

He showed up to the royal conference room, all dressed up and holding a bouquet of red roses. You could hear his heart thumping as he approached you, his hands sweaty and clammy when he held yours.

“My queen, there is no denying our kingdoms are in a crisis”. His familiar voice was comforting to you, yet the words seemed too formal to be leaving Ten’s mouth. “The Indigo kingdom has indirectly declared war on you. They are powerful, especially with the weapons they possess. And their men are notorious to be ruthless and as cold as ice.”

You gulped visibly, your mouth getting dry at the thought of your people getting as violently killed as your father. Looking at any place possible other than his eyes, you wondered why he took the time to pay you a visit, just to point out the things that you were already more than worried about.

“My kingdom has great soldiers, skilled and apt in martial arts, yet they miss one thing, one thing that your peaceful kingdom can offer mine. Your servants love you, my queen, and they are willing to do anything for you”. He stops and takes a breath, handing you the bouquet he had been holding in his other hand. “I know I would”

The sweet scent that hits your nose matches his sentiment, yet the glossiness in his eyes -that you finally picked up the courage to face- told you things would get bitter soon.

“Are you suggesting we form an alliance for the war? Our kingdoms might be on good terms now, yet our predecessors used to be enemies for hundreds of years. There is still a lot of mistrust weaved in the hearts of the people.”

“I know”, he said, his voice breaking lightly. A thorn from the bouquet pricked your skin as you saw him fall down on one knee, a drop of blood falling from your finger as a teardrop stained your face. “That’s why I am asking for your hand in marriage. Let our kingdoms become one”

You were the one who said ‘I do’, yet the decision was already taken for you. Your whole life, in fact, was painted right in front of your eyes, hues of marsala reds and hunter greens. Hues like the ones Ten put on his palette almost every night before you go to sleep.

You and Ten had never slept together. He insisted that it was never his intention when marrying you, and he’d completely respect your boundaries. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t had a thought of laying with him, as you helped him remove the drying paint off his fingers every night. You couldn’t ignore the twitch of your sensitivity as he saw you changing into your silk robe and nightgown, nor the heat of your face when he called you beautiful. His pretty voice was made for begging and teasing and singing out moans. With his flexibility and core strength, you could only imagine what he’d be like in the bedroom. Just the image of his feline eyes looking up at you from between your thighs sent chills down your spine.

That being said, you always felt a bit annoyed by his chivalry as he slipped through to the guest room to spend the night. Through his proposal, he had ridden you of the chance to choose your other half, doomed you to endless nights of loneliness and a cold half of the bed. He should’ve at least taken responsibility.

Not even the guards could know that the two of you didn’t share a bed, the alliance holding on the thin thread of facade you played out for everyone. Sweet kisses in the breakfast room, fake smiles and the silent mourning of your freedom. But that wasn’t your only secret.

You see a hand tapping lightly the velvet shoulderpads of the King’s suit, causing you to halt your dancing. A man, about half a head taller than Ten, successfully steals his attention from you.

“My king, may I steal the lovely queen for a dance?”

Kim Doyoung.

Tall, nice-mannered, lethally handsome. Your father’s trustiest advisor ever since he turned 18 and one of the most respected men in the castle. If the king is the jungle’s lion, then Doyoung surely is a jaguar, attacking his enemies unexpectedly, emerging from their blind spot. He is also your secret.

Kim was the one who found you crying over your fathers body, notifying the knights of the murder since you had no voice to scream for help. He offered you a shoulder to lean on during your grief, while helping you manage the kingdom in your inexperience. It was inevitable to come closer to the man you spent countless hours with at the royal meetings, who you wined and dined with daily, who led you through your duties and made everything make a little bit more sense.

The attraction you felt for him however, well, that was on you. 

It started one night, warm like this one, when the diplomatic settlements with a new kingdom took way too long to figure out, and the pair of you were stuck in his personal office at the early hours of the morning. 

Your hair was a frizzy mess, eyebags darkening the thin skin of your under eyes and all you could focus on was the ink slowly spilling from the metal tip of your pen. And Doyoung, though hardworking and diligent as always, showed the signs of exhaustion as well, stretching his neck from side to side to release the tension.

A crack from his joints grabbed your attention, or rather his skin that was glowing in the limelight. 

He was wearing a beautiful silk shirt, the fabric matching his rich stature and highlighting the delicate lines of his body. His collarbones, sharp like him, peeked from the buttons he had been unfastening, one by one, all the while keeping his eyes on yours.

Your mind wandered under his stare that did nothing short of stealing all oxygen from your lungs. Every slither of your bare skin that landed on it was starting to burn up, and you assumed that’s what his touch must feel like as well. You imagined unbuttoning the rest of his shirt yourself, giving his shoulders a little massage to help him relax. You’d run your hands down this torso, marking it lightly with your fingernails, until you felt that little line of hair right over his pelvis.

The thought is too sinful, so you return to the document in front of you, yet all of your concentration dissolves when the advisor suddenly places the back of his hand against your forehead. His touch is cool and refreshing against your hot skin, yet the proximity only raised the temperature of your body more.

“My queen, you look exhausted. Have you been sleeping properly since the… incident?”

You wince at the memory and shove it down your subconscious again, shaking your head as if the dark thoughts would just brush off of you.

“Not really. I keep tossing and turning. I lay on my bed and I just feel so- so lonely.”

Immediately realising how suggestive your words sound you put your hand over your lips, but Doyoung removes them, taking your raised hand in his and kissing the top.

“My duty as your advisor is to rid you of your worries, my queen. Apparently, I’m not doing a good job, so tell me”. You let your eyes fall on his plush lips, holding your breath as his sweet talk leaves them. He mouths the next words against your wrist, and you can feel every movement of his mouth against your sensitive skin. “What can I do to relieve your stress?”

You can’t stop staring at the smoothness of the junction of his neck so you leave a light layer of your lipstick on it, the pink hue against his pale skin reeling you back to reality.

“Advisor, this is not right”, you try to excuse, “I cannot allow myself to take advantage of your duties like that”

Your eyes stay glued on his neck, and you watch as his Adam’s apple bobs in a chuckle. He guides your hand, that is still in his grasp, and boldy places it over his thigh, your pinky finger grazing against a hardness that is most definitely his-

“Can’t you see what you do to me? What does a man have to do to be yours for the night?”

And that’s how he ended up tangled in your sheets every night, sneaking in your room silently so that the guards don’t notice him. 

“It’s been one year, huh?”

You smell the citrusy after notes of wine in his breath, his lips slightly stained by the liquid. He looks just as addictive as the alcohol he consumed tonight, covered in the silk fabric that he loves so much.

“Have you been drinking again?”

“What else am I supposed to do when I see my queen dancing with that bastard?”

“That bastard is your king, yet you talk so lowly of him”

“And that king is your husband, but you were moaning my name on your wedding night”

You had changed into a white nightgown, the ivory dress discarded on your bathroom’s floor. The beads that were delicately weaved into the wedding gown sure were heavy, but that was not the reason you felt so suffocated in it. You had to sit there for hours, resenting everyone who made a toast for the husband and wife. The celebrations seemed endless, the wine abundant, their laughs maniacal. Your wedding ceremony was the image of luxury and opulence, yet you felt so poor.

Your feet led you to his room on their own, swollen and cut from all the dancing in heels. When Doyoung saw you, angry and choked up with all the injustice you felt, he offered to do what he was the best at. Distract you with his touches, his wet kisses, his sweet nothings. 

A pang of guilt ran through you the moment your back hit the wall, his body trapping you between the cold surface and the overwhelming heat of his body. You wondered if Ten was still sleeping in your newlyweds’ suite, if he was pretending that he dozed off, what he was thinking. You knew you were selfish for only thinking about your feelings, as if you were the only one forced into this marriage. But then Doyoung’s fingers danced on the hem of your dress, and your mind would go blank with lust.

“This is wrong”, you said out loud, a statement directed mostly at yourself rather than Doyoung.

“You coming here?”

“This. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to come this close to you”

“Divorce him”

You blinked back at him a couple times, trying to register what came so nonchalantly out of his mouth.

“Out of all people, advisor, you know exactly why I can’t”

His hand slid upwards, following the heat of your core, yet his fingers never touched where you needed him most. Small indentations were formed on the softness of your thighs, caused by his rings, and you wished the marks would stay forever. The shirt he wore as his sleepwear was oversized on his small frame, the iris tattooed on his shoulder peeking out from the fabric, as if it flowered on his skin.

“Out of all people, my queen, you know I can give you so much more than him”

As if knowing you’d argue with him, he started to nibble the skin on the middle of your neck, forcing your voice to bubble out muffled and weary.

“But advisor-“

“Say my name”

He let the pad of his finger fick your clit, and you moan “Doyoung” out, the name addictive on the tip of your tongue. So you say it again.

“Doyoung, I need you”

You felt his grin clearly against your skin, you wetness dripping on his fingers and covering his rings. His next words came out with a gravelly sound:

“I might hurt you, my queen”

Your whole life was laid out in front of you, from the wedding ring that weighted down your finger, to you laying on your royal deathbed, looking back at a lifetime that was never really yours. A linear progression to unhappiness, but you hated straight lines. 

“I want it to hurt”

Doyoung brings your body closer to yours, perhaps way closer than the etiquette allows, his hand on your lower waist sliding as near to your ass so as not to raise suspicion. He dips his head forward in a way that makes you think he’d leave a tipsy and careless kiss on your lips, but he whispers in your ear instead.

“Why haven’t you left him already?” The question is bold, especially between all these people, especially in the celebration of the wedding he asks you to break off. “I thought you said you’re mine”

“I am, but-“, your head moves towards the king’s direction, whose eyes are boring holes through the pair of you. You feel so small under his stare, suddenly feeling dirty. 

“He doesn’t even love you” 

There is a weird feeling bubbling in your stomach when you finally make eye contact with Ten, all his forms in which you’ve seen him through the years running in your mind. The innocent boy who became your best friend, the uncertain teenager who became your first love. The empathetic king, the mourning friend. The dependable spouse.

“But you do”, Doyoung concludes incredulously, his right eyebrow raised. It’s as if he tied together the pieces of a big jigsaw puzzle, the disappointment and anger and determination all trying to fit in his handsome features.

A hand draws your body away from Doyoung quite aggressively, and you quickly realise it’s Ten who has caught up with you. He intertwines your fingers together, pulling you into your previous dancing position but something is different this time.

“Times up. My wife’s too precious of a gem to let go of for longer”

Doyoung scoffs lightly, but hides it with a small bow to his king, leaving the two of you alone like he was asked. The tension between you and Ten is so thick it felt like all the lies you’ve told your kingdoms liquified into a thick substance that’s suffocating you now. His fingers are digging in your hips, in a possessive manner that’s a first for him, and he takes a deep breath before speaking.

“Do you ever think of me when you’re having sex with him?” 

The question catches you so off guard that you ungraciously step on his feet, wobbling on your heels until he helps you find your balance. 

“Why would you ask that?”

Now, you weren’t trying to play clueless, you know Ten is smart. You see the way he studies you and Doyoung, how he catches your secret glances, the electric touches. He surely has figured out where you sneak off every night and whose cologne you reek off the next morning. What you don’t understand, is where all his dislike for your advisor stems from.

Ten just chuckles bitterly, letting a puff through his nose, with a face of almost disgust when he looks at you.

“I don’t understand why I feel this way. I don’t understand why I care about you when you’re plotting with him against me. Why I feel jealous every time I see his filthy hands on you, or why I still think you deserve better.”

Plotting against him?

You’re left with a mouth gaped open, his harsh words both hurting you and confusing you as his voice gets even more strict than before.

“I thought maybe if I asked you to marry me you’d slowly distance yourself from him. I thought that maybe, just maybe, you reciprocate a handful of all the things I feel for you. But you still stay by his side, hanging from his every word”, he says it all in one breath and his eyes are watery when he addresses you again. “How can you sleep soundly next to me when you’re fucking the man that killed your father?”

A buzzing sound rings in your ears and you realise that you’re one breath away from falling apart.

And just like that, everything makes sense.

Why Doyoung was the first to find your father’s body, why the assasination seemed like an inside job. His sudden romantic interest in you and his pleas to have him as your king instead.

The indigo flower that decorated his body.

Ten shakes you a little, worried now at your sudden stiffness and the loss of blood from your face. He didn’t expect this reaction from you, didn’t expect to see your body shake with anger like this. You seem even more shocked than he was when he found out about Doyoung’s true nature, but, aren’t you the advisor’s accomplice in the plot of his overruling? 

“Wait, all this time- you didn’t know?”

Ten’s eyes widen as his body jerks forward, and you barely manage to catch him in your arms. A woman’s shriek resonates in the dance hall; the musicians halt their playing with a scratchy sound of the strings that stretch out of tune. And then you see the blood, staining the marble floor under Ten in small drops. You also see Doyoung emerging from behind him, with a maniacal look on his face, and a dagger in his hands. 

All hell breaks loose. The unarmed guests scream in fear, urging outside the dance hall in flocks. Glasses of wine shatter on the floor, women leave their heels behind in their hastiness to save themselves. You see the knights running in your direction, creating a shield of protection for you and the king, yet you notice that not all of them have gathered around you. A good part of them stand next to Doyoung, his face distorted in a mischievous grin. The extent of the betrayal in your kingdom shocks you, but when the first knight launches forward with his sword, you know you need to get Ten out of there immediately.

Throwing Ten’s arm over your shoulder, you drag him with difficulty all the way to the balcony, desperately trying to mute out the shrill sound of swords clashing in the process. You manage to bring him to safety, laying him down carefully in the same spot he found you in before, his head on your lap. After unbuttoning his shirt, you inspect the stab under his ribcage, and you swallow a scream at the sight of the deep wound. The most you can do is rip a big piece of cloth from your skirt, tying it up tightly around his waist, and wait until the fight is over. 

You see clear drops falling on his face that is turning sickly pale and you realise you’re crying. Holding his face between your hands, you get reminded of those days you went starseeing, of those moments of absolute peace with him that you wished would last forever. His body is cold and the cloth is turning burgundy, but he has the most tranquil smile on his face as he looks up at you. 

“Stay with me, please”, you sob over his rigid body, hugging it tightly as if his existence will just slip right through your fingers. “Live with me, and I’ll gift you all the stars in the sky”

[elias-veturius-laia-of-serra]

Why Elias And Laia Mean So Much To Me

Okay so I’ve been wanting to write this for a while but knew it would be long and that I’d need some time to get my thoughts in order. So without a further ado here is my attempt:

Why is Elaia so important to me. Well to start off, Laia Of Serra in particular is very important and inspirational to me. She is not only a brown girl who is a hero but she is the most realistic hero I’ve ever had the honor of meeting. I’m so used to white female main characters that are badass warriors who are smart, beautiful, strong, special, that everyone is attracted to, and who fight for their people. I grew up on books like that. In which don’t get me wrong I still greatly enjoyed those stories and some of them are still my favorite to this day.

However I could never relate to those characters and it really solidified the belief that I most likely could never be a hero cause I could never fit that mold. And for the longest time I thought I was okay with that and I never really understood how much physical and emotional representation could mean to me until, Laia Of Serra.

Laia is a brown girl that is afraid, insecure, oppressed, sheltered, poor, weak, with no fighting experience, kind, emotional, girly, and self deprecating. She’s scared and second guesses herself all the time. It’s hard for her to phantom that she’s good enough to make the right choices or save anyone or anything. Which is exactly what I struggle with on the daily let alone in the middle of a war. I first read aeita when I was 17, the same age as Laia. So meeting a heroine that made mistakes, berated herself, cracked under pressure, had no clue what she was doing, let herself cry, understood that in a place filled with skilled deathly warriors she was weak, and let people trample over her. It was so relatable and heart wrenching. Especially when I’ve been wired to think girls like her are useless and typically the first to die or used as a stepping stool for the real hero.

Seeing her continue to fight with what she can and however she can made my heart soar. There were so many times she wanted to give up and feared death. However in time she grew and instead of fearing death she embraced the possibility of it in order to fight for what is right and for the people she loved. She stayed true to herself and became a badass without the need of having to kill people. Laia detested killing people especially after having to see how her people got killed all the time. She’s filled with understanding, love, forgiveness, sensitivity, kindness, and determination. No matter how many times she got knocked down she kept getting back up.

She gave and still gives me hope. Hope for who I am today and who I can grow into the future. She’s a symbol that you can be strong in other ways. That physical strength isn’t the only way to be a hero. Her bravery to face things head on, her compassion towards everyone, her determination to reach her goal, and her heart always willing to accept others is what makes her a hero. Even when it came to the final battle. It wasn’t her powers or weapons that got her to win the war. It was her kindness and understanding and love.

I understand people are disappointed that she wasn’t as “brutal” or stabby as other heroines. I love stabby women as well! But I think her depiction of strength and heroism is so important. It really shines a light on the meek and shy and scared and shows that it’s okay to feel like that. How that doesn’t automatically make you weak and how you can be just as important in the world.

I also love that Laia isn’t reduced or or shown as “not like other girls”. Laia loves to dress up, she likes to look pretty, she does think about boys, she is bossy, she is emotional, often has break downs, and she’s just so human. I find that a lot of the most badass heroines are always the ones that don’t like dressing up and finds it a waste of time, doesn’t fit in with other women, is stoic, cold, good with swords but not with words, and violent. Im not saying that these characters shouldn’t be allowed, but I feel like it reinforces the idea that the normal things a woman feels or behaves is considered weak. Not saying that all women are emotional, but we do feel. We do stress and some of us do love to put on make up and dresses. That shouldn’t be demonized or looked down upon.

That’s why I adore Laia. She’s a normal teenage girl that IS like most girls. And she gets praise and stronger because of it. Also people need to realize that at the start of the series Laia is a 17 year old girl with zero survival training skills. Elias and Helene have been training since they were literal children. Their whole lives revolves around fighting. Laia’s didn’t. So it makes sense and is realistic why she isn’t as “strong” or “skilled” as them.

To expect her to be at their level within the three year timeline between these books is impossible. I feel like people are so used to heroines that know how to fight or learn to become the most badass fighter through mere chapter montages that seeing a realistic depiction of a teenage girl that’s never fought in her life is displeasing. But I love that about her. She always becomes stronger in spirit, braver at heart, but at her core she is still Laia. A teenage girl trying her best.

Her needing help or needing a team to fulfill her goals shouldn’t be looked down on. It’s shown through even real history some of the best fighters or leaders needed a team. Needed support, right hand man, etc. Which is why I feel so connected to her and wish she wasn’t so underrated or looked down upon. Cause I feel like she’s a voice for girls like us that so desperately needed a way to be heard. She’s someone I can look up to and remember and find comfort in when times get stressful or dark.

Now as for why Elias and Laia’s relationship mean a lot to me. It’s simple. They’re a healthy brown couple and I love finally seeing a girl that looks and acts like me get praise and love. I love that Elias sees her strength and admires her for who she is. And how he actually finds comfort in a person like her. How he views her at times even stronger than him and everyone else.

Girls/characters like Laia are always reduced to a side character, the best friend, the second choice for the love interest, the death that motivates the main character, and or the character that pops in and out to give moral support. However under Elias’s eyes she IS the main character. She IS the only girl for him. He loves everything about her and was the first to believe she’s strong. He chooses her above all. Above anything and anyone else.

As a brown girl as shallow or dumb as it may sound it really does feel touching to see us described as not only just strong and desirable but loved and wanted by the warrior. The main love interest. That in his eyes this brown girl that others deem as weak, useless, boring, and a waste of time. To him she is everything. She is brave, smart, powerful, beautiful, admirable, and perfect. It means the world to me. Especially with how characters like her especially in fantasy is seen as never good enough or tossed aside.

I also love that Elias shows the struggles on what it means to be “strong”. How a lot of learning to be the best fighter happened through a lot of trauma, shame, and guilt. He does show how physical strength isn’t the only way to be strong. Which is why Laia is his balance. She is the peace and freedom he yearns for while Elias is the strength, power, and love she’s always yearned for. Where she falls in believing herself he is always the first to count his vote on her. They compliment each other perfectly. Countermelodies. True loves.

They show me a healthy version of love. One of the purest and sweetest kinds of love. Elias is always soft, kind, and patient with her. He’s proud of her even if she feels like it’s undeserved. She sees the good in him even if he feels like he’s a monster. They see each other for who they are and love that about each other. They love each other so much and I’d never seen two characters be as in love as these two are. They are utterly devoted to each other and constantly fought for their way back to each other. It’s been five years and rereading their scenes still makes me smile and feel butterflies, like it’s the first time all over again.

Even now seeing any content of them is like a shot of straight up serotonin. They are my comfort ship. Despite the stress these past five years of being with them and shipping them has brought me. They also bring me great happiness and excitement and I wish I never had to say goodbye.

Though here’s to hoping that maybe we can have an Elaia novella, at the least, in the future 👀🤞

♥️♥️♥️ Elaia Forever ♥️♥️♥️

[gofancyninjaworld]

OPM Manga Chapter 147 Review:  Toxic

Story: Preview to a catastrophe

I’m going to do something a little unusual.  Rather than give a summary of what happened, I’m going to save everything else that happens that for the meta and focus the story itself on just one thing.  Garou’s return.

For a guy of many many words, Garou here is wordless, a creature of instinct, rage, and an unstoppable desire to put down any hero he encounters. Social niceties be damned.

no, Fubuki, you don’t belong in this battle

Bomb realises very quickly that this isn’t going to be a fight that he can afford to not engage fully with.  He wastes no time unleashing his trademark long-range offensive move, although he’s no slouch in close- up fighting either.  I love how the panel below superimposes several snapshots in time in a single image, as if the cameraman hasn’t enough time to separate the action into individual frames. It sells the speed and fury of the fight better than many blurry images.  Also Murata is flexing on us with regards to his portrayal of fight choreography, he’s allowed. :)

For his own part, Garou flows effortlessly from conventional to unconventional in his fighting, bending improbably out of the way one moment, parrying in an orthodox manner the next.  Eventually the seeming balance between the two breaks inexorably in Garou’s favour, leaving Bomb marvelling at the former’s incredible evolution.

Nothing for it, there’s no choice but to kill Garou if possible. Bomb hides a hand behind his back as he readies his iron-cutting fist one last time.  It’s unfortunate that Garou has long since intuited how to do the same when he faced off against the Monster King, half a day ago ( I know, it’s been years for us), and does exactly the same, matching up timing and intensity perfectly with Bomb’s, thus cancelling it out.

Bang finally catches up to where the two are fighting to find his elder brother defeated.

Just as at the end of chapter 83, master and disciple face off.  But the atmosphere between the two could not be more different, and the stakes are about as high as they could possibly get.

What new awakening will come from the next fight?  Portents are dire.

Meta: Elsewhere

What doesn’t kill me has made a tactical mistake

For a story whose big schtick is that surviving what should have killed one makes one stronger,  it’s surprising the amount and variety of mileage it gets out of that idea.

Making light of the idea, we have Genos literally rocketing back to his feet and casually dusting himself off after being smashed into a hole in the ground by Black Sperm.  After being thrown into or through so many bits of masonry and earth, getting up with elan is nothing to him.  Damn, he’s become tough! Awesome.

On the opposite side, making dark of the idea, we have Fuhrer Ugly, whose strength of hatred and rage is such that he keeps continuously reforming despite being continually digested by Gums’ digestive fluids... and has turned that into a new ability, able to melt anyone who touches him, kill with his spit, and reform after being cut.  Terrifying.

And on the other other side, a perfect hypotenuse of awesome and terrifying, we have Garou.  He has disinterred himself from the remains of the Monster Association base and while apparently fighting more by instinct than reason, his moves reprise everything he’s learned to date through his life-and-death fights with incredible fluency.

And of course, there’s Tank Top Master whose tank top seems to have magically preserved his life.  I wonder what Fubuki has in mind for Pig God to do to help her help Tank Top Master.

Anyway, talking about serious injury...

Let’s talk about gore, baby

I’ve said before that I’m tired of all injuries accruing to either Genos or Zombieman and wanted some flesh-and-blood to be mangled.  I don’t take that back: share the pain, baby!

But even for my evil heart, hoo, the brutal suddenness with which Fuhrer Ugly ended Zambai’s life was yikes!  Heroes may never die, but those next to them have no such protection.  I’m sorry man.  You paid the highest price for supporting a hero.

Heroes may never die but that doesn’t mean they can’t suffer horribly.  If Tank Top Master being turned into a human patty wasn’t grisly enough, finding out that SuperAlloy’s famously resistant shine isn’t chemically resistant is enough to give one a shudder of horror/disgust:  his hands have been defleshed down to tendon and bone.

Never mind fear; it’s going to be a while before  SuperAlloy *can* fight at all. And with his chest being burned as well, I think that he will be lucky not to come away with disfiguring scars.  He might start wearing a shirt after this...

  ONE, have some mercy for your heroes or half of them will never work again. But not too much mercy, they’ve had it too easy for too long.

There’s more to help than rescue

If you’d told me that this day would see Genos earning the trust and respect of the heroes he has called the bitch and the witch respectively, and that feeling would be mutual, I’d have told you to stop fantasising.   I’ve spent enough words talking about the unexpected compassion he showed to Fubuki when the latter was beside herself with worry for her sister.

Tatsumaki has internalised the advice Blast gave her so thoroughly that she’s come to think herself as being beyond help.  But there’s more to help than haplessly accepting rescue.   Help can also be someone intervening only when you most need it, respecting that you can generally take care of yourself.  Help can be sharing the burden, enabling you to achieve more, more easily.  Help can be having your back so you can fight without fear of ambush.  All of these forms of help Genos has provided to Tatsumaki from the moment the battle pitched high into the sky.  And she’s had his back too.  Seeing her consciously acknowledge that and lean into it was an amazing gift I didn’t know I needed. 

from allies in name only to comrades-in-arms, what a fearsome pair!  Gambatte!

Of course it can get worse

The heroes’ situation seems to be getting worse and worse.  Their number is being whittled down to size: Tank Top Master is out for the count, Bang is tied up, Superalloy Darkshine is maimed, Atomic is out of his main weapon, Child Emperor is lost somewhere and Puri Puri is looking for him, Zombieman and Amai Mask are still pulling themselves together, and Tatsumaki and Genos are standing more by spite than strength. 

On the other hand, the monsters aren’t out of monster by any means.  There’s still lots of Black Sperm, Evil Natural Water is surely sloshing around somewhere,  Vomited Furher Ugly is a pungent threat, and Homeless Emperor is watching proceedings with an amused eye.  I called the monsters the sundew monsters for a reason -- they waste heroes by outlasting their efforts.

The standing heroes are going to need respite, or a diversion, or reinforcements pretty soon or they’re going to all die for real.   Preferably all three.  We’ll take two out of three.

Further notes:  The Cyborg is Listening

The first thing Kuseno says to Genos when the latter comes back after a bruising encounter with a monster is ‘are you alright?’  That we know.  The second thing has to be ‘did you bring me good data?’  Everything that happens to Genos, everything he touches, everything he sees, everything he hears, all that information is recorded for later recall and distillation into useable data.   We’ve been admiring how capable and tough this new upgrade has proven to be.  It’s all hard-won insights, built one on the other.    Does that mean I’m discounting what Genos does?  Hell no.  It’s his extreme courage and willingness to step into the most hopeless situations that has enabled this valuable data to be gathered in the first place.  And it’s his using these wonderful upgrades to push as hard as he can despite the risk that makes it worth Kuseno’s while to stay up late to craft them.  Now I’m super-interested in finding out what new insights the pair will glean from today’s fighting.

...polite engineer for ‘fuck you’

Sure, like many serious things in One-Punch Man, it initially appears as a gag,  but if you’ve not been paying attention to date, hear this: good data is like gold dust in this world.   And people will kill for it.   As we watch the dissipating contrails where Drive Knight was as he carries his precious samples home, don’t way you weren’t warned.

[jack-is-lost]

If you made your own, perfect, self indulgent film, or series, what would it be about, look like and what details would be essential?

Hmm, hard to say, really. I feel I’ve pondered over something similar in the past, which resorted to more fanfiction ideas, but I never delved too deep. Besides, what I might reply with now could evolve into an entirely different indulgent weeks, months, or a year from now. I’ll do my best to answer, though! Fair warning topics of death, and all that comes with it, are mentioned.

First, due to my unhealthy obsession, it would be supernatural-themed. Most likely a world where they are coexisting with humans, the average beings, but not exactly out publicly. I enjoy that world-building structure that, for the most part, humanity goes about their life unbeknownst that these ‘stories’ they’ve grown up with hold actual physical truth to them — not just metaphorical.

Another weakness of mine is taking a normal person and having them fall down this rabbit hole into the unknown. Preferably due to a life-altering situation. The reason the supernatural world reveals itself to the protagonist needs to be dire, blood pumping, and basically thrilling. I don’t mind the whole ‘I fell in love with so-and-so and now I’m apart of their world’, but I would avoid it being the pivotal point in my film/series. 

Instead, it is a friend and the life-altering situation would be a near-death moment. These would be essential, the turning points and anchor. Perhaps, the protagonist was out hanging with a friend they’ve known all their life, through school (currently in high-school), and that night things uncontrollably go downhill. Many thoughts come to mind of how it would go down; car accident, being held at gunpoint while at a convenience store, a freak accident at a theme park. Something out of their hands that causes the friend to act or else death would occur. It is heated, no thought just action, and suddenly there are so many questions needing to be answered. So the protagonist starts to fall down that metaphorical hole into wonderland, but — like in so many already established films/shows — having a mortal being apart of their world is dangerous. Dangerous for them and the beings hidden within plain sight. Yes, what their friend did was heroic but also frowned upon by their own kind. Discussion of what to do with the protagonist is heavy on everyone’s mind. Change them? Wipe their memory? Kill them? Within days of having their eyes open to so much, enough time to have the confusion and fear evolve into wonderment, it is decided to repress their memories. Like a fish caught on a hook, the protagonist is tossed back to sea to blindly follow the current. What I’ve mentioned would be the first portion of a film or the first few episodes of the series. It builds up, allowing the audience to know there is more — to gain a taste of wanting to only be denied alongside the main character. To also dig emotionally deeper, said friend has to distance themself in fear of triggering memories. Something could cause those repressed life-changing moments to unravel, so they back off. Calls start to go unanswered, text messages are few and in-between, and physically hanging out just stops altogether. This makes the protagonist at first resentful, upset not knowing what they did wrong — if they did anything wrong. They simply shrug it off at one point, deciding that — like so many friendships often due, theirs is simply fading. So life goes on and a time skip occurs. It is the beginning of the build-up that leads to the middle of the film/series. The protagonist is older, perhaps in their late twenties to early thirties, and they’ve followed this path to become a Crime Scene/Homicide Investigator. Known as a specialist in their field and very dedicated to their work. As the movie/series builds up to that middle act, their world once again starts to ripple like a reflection on water. Especially as they are called to an unusual scene. It is gruesome, animalistic, limbs were strewn across the dark street. And, as they kneel down to pull back the tarp to have a good look at the victim, another investigator crouches beside them. Something is off by how this person’s gaze takes in the scene, how their voice mutters visual statements, and this familiar pull inside their own head. Our protagonist has this inkling feeling they’ve met before. It isn’t until their eyes meet that it dawns on them. Despite it being more than a decade with no contact, it is their friend right beside them. They are older, face harder. Somehow, without any influence on each other, they’ve walked the same career path. And, without purposefully meaning to, found themselves teaming up as districts overlap. Except for one crucial key; their friend has specialized in supernatural criminology. The scene before them is a hot mess that pulls two parties together to solve the case. Creatures and humans equally killing and being murdered. This is where a love interest would slowly build-up — the faintest of possibilities, as they focus on solving what could be the biggest serial killer case ever. Foggy memories do start to surface, but they are old and blurry childhood moments. They could easily be deluded by watching too many horror movies, and that is how the protagonist reasons it. Yet, the further they work this job together, the more the main character has to know. The more they need to seek answers and start to avidly search between the cracks. A huge “I knew it!” moment would occur when they come face to face with the serial killer. Who is, indeed, a supernatural creature. However, being older and more trained, the protagonist doesn’t falter in the midst of a fight sequence. They might exclaim it, joke with their temporary partner on the case, but their finger is still hovering over the trigger — their gaze on the killer. Thus, this is the ‘climax’ of the story — the reveal and blood-pumping action. And, as the main character humanly try to go up against a real-life brutal monster, our protagonist is severely injured. Except now the friend/partner wasn’t there to deflect the final blow. The battle is still going as the protagonist lays upon the ground, bleeding out and fighting to breathe. That is where we see a flashback to the first incident, back to the beginning of the show/film. Their vision is a clouded memory as they blindly look up to the weathered ceiling. The pain is fading to the point they let out one of those dry chuckles while thinking fate is cruel. That they are apart of something like Final Destination to where they probably should have died back then, and now fate is rearing its ugly mug at them again. Their friend rushes to their side, the battle over, and the main character missing the ending. It isn’t though they could care much about that for their world is fading, their life leaking out of them with every slow pulse. The friend asks them then, disregarding rules and regulations, and ask if they don’t want to die. They need permission, consent, but the response is slurred and broken. Did they want whatever their friend was truly asking of them? To be a monster? They can feel the friend’s grasp within theirs, stronger than their own returning squeeze. The darkness is starting to crawl, starting to swallow their vision, and they stare up at the being who they were beginning to love all over again — more than a friend in this second chance gifted to them, and they smile. They don’t nod or shake their head. They don’t whisper an answer, but instead, allow the grim reaper to do its job. For if they were meant for the world hidden by plain sight, they would have been born for it. The ending of this show is remorseful, no doubt. We have this heroic symbol as the funeral plays out. The friend, the blossoming love interest, being the last one to lay a flower upon the grave. Now we see it from their perspective, the loss and grief. Loss of having to stop being friends, the enjoyment of meeting up again and playing a major role in their life, to the grief of losing them so soon. It would end on this sad note because it is how life works, and I’d want to solidify the hard realities within the wonderment. Yet, if a second season or a sequel were to happen, it would be through their gaze. How they deal with it and move forward, and how they find companionship again many, many years down the line. Especially when another supernatural creature has this light in their eyes when they smile a certain familiar way. They are new on the job and being saddled up with them to get field experience, nothing unusual. However, the way they laugh — how they freely speak their mind, reminds them of someone else and a part of them wonders deep down that maybe, just maybe, fate isn’t as heartless as it seemed. It really feels like their friend is right there beside them as they fall back into the fray of solving homicide cases.

[justanotherpersonsuniverse]

The Best Parts of Me

by @ether-solrac, a special non-canon scene I wrote for @justanotherpersonsuniverse Other Magic AU. Hope you all enjoy, although at 7 pages and 3,788 words, its a doozy.

The graveyard was in disarray as the various tombstones and mausoleums lay shattered and crumbled from the echoes of battle. The embers feeding off the dried grass were the only source of light as the thick fog suffocated the moonless night. But more than the echoes of death, the sight Chloe found most traumatizing was the image of her friends so very close to joining whatever spirits were too damn afraid to bear witness to this kind of threat. Juleka was propped up against a cracked tombstone and missing an arm. Kagami’s saber lay shattered beside her unconscious body, her flames worryingly dim. Alya’s coat was sporting a nasty tear that would take months to properly heal. And the two Sabrinas lay huddled protectively over the battered body of Aurore, not doing much better themselves if the chipped antlers and smell of scorched foliage were any indicator. But the part that stole all of her focus and pierced her heart with the fiercest desperation she’s ever felt, was the sight of the formidable hunter responsible for all this carnage, shimmering sliver skull mask and coat as dark as the void itself, and in his grasp, dangling helplessly like the prey he saw her as, was Alix.

“You know, you lot have been making quite the scene in both the magical and hunter communities. Tearing down glamour after glamour and forming bonds between races that have been in hiding for centuries. Disgusting. You can imagine my surprise when the supposed group undoing thousands of yeas of carefully crafted repression and giving these blasted freaks hope, was nothing more than a bunch of brats” the hunter monologued. He pulled Alix up further by her wrist, putting just enough pressure to cause Alix to cry out in pain and cancel out the small spell she’d been discreetly trying to cast. “Now now, none of that little witch.”

“You bastard…” Chloe forced out as she tried desperately to get up or do anything for that matter. She’d always been so conscious of what the full moon did to her, she never really stopped to consider how weak the new moon left her. The brutal beating she received probably didn’t help either.

“Ah, so the bitch is still conscious. Good. You’re the witch’s familiar are you not? The pain must be double for you two and yet you both are still desperately trying to save the other. I’d say it was romantic if you weren’t such perverse creatures” the hunter mocked. “The world of magic and monsters has had its day and its end is inevitable. I won’t let a bunch of brats get in the way of that.”

The hunter pulled an ornate dagger out of his cloak and if it was even possible, Chloe went even more pale. While she may not have much of a mind for magic, she’s spent enough nights curled up next to a studying Alix to recognize that rune was a huge no-no, a magic syphon… She had to do something! Anything! What the fuck was the point of being part giant killer werewolf if she couldn’t use it when she needed it! She was under so much pain it felt like it was only getting stronger and stronger, and all she could do was take a single step before it became too much and she collapsed, the sight of Alix’s tear stricken face calling out her name was the last thing she saw before her world faded to black.

 ——

Or at least that’s what she thought… Chloe awoke with a start back in her own room at the hotel except it wasn’t quite right. It was like the entire room had been petrified and turned to stone. Moss, dust, and rubble claimed the space as though it were some long forgotten temple. That, and she’s pretty sure her room didn’t have that massive skylight projecting a dark ominous storm that was practically leaking in through all the windows and doors.

“Well well well, look who finally decided to drop in” a twisted but familiar voice called out to her.

Standing before her was a grim twisted version of Chloe herself. Her skin was as pale as stone, her hair was a mesmerizing sliver that shined like moonlight, but what was most stunning were the deep wild red eyes and gleaming fang filled smile that sparkled with something incredibly predatory.

“I was wondering how long it would take for us to finally meet face to face. I’ve simply been DYING to meet you. Although from the look of things it seems like there’s someone out there has a similar idea” the odd Chloe spoke.

“You… You’re my wolf half…” Chloe mumbled to herself.

“And they say Blonds are dumb. You’re smarter than people give you credit for. But then again, its not like you gave them much to look for to begin with.”

“What do you want, and how am I even in here?”

“Awww, right to business? Alright then, you’re in here because you called for me. Because CHLOE wasn’t enough. And why would you be? you’re nothing but the scared heartless little girl that’s spent so long chasing after a bitch that won’t ever love you that you became one yourself.”

“W-what… no that’s- “Chloe whimpered out

“Not true?” the wolf snarled. “Why don’t we just take a look at your little friends and see for ourselves shall we?”

“Chloe, what’s going on?” came a voice from behind her.

Turning around Chloe found Sabrina standing there just as confused as she was. Out of the darkness the wolf Chloe sauntered up to Sabrina wrapping her firm clawed hand over Sabrina’s neck.

“let’s see, your oldest most faithful friend of oh so many years.” Wolf Chloe taunted pressing her finger more firmly on the redhead’s neck. “And what have you done to her? Oh, that’s right. You silenced her voice and then paraded her around like a servant and trophy.”

Before Chloe could even get the scream out, the wolf slashed across Sabrina’s throat. Sabrina stood there in shock, grasping her neck, completely void of her voice, and as the faintest drips of crimson seeped through her fingers, she was drained of all color and petrified into a stone statue. Chloe didn’t even have the time to grieve as the wolf made her way to yet another of her newly appeared friends, Juleka.

“Ah yes, Juleka, she really is something isn’t she? Underneath the shy girl routine, she’s rather gorgeous and fierce, isn’t she? And you couldn’t let someone outshine you, could you? So, what else would you do beside socially burry her where her fear of never being seen could destroy what little opposition she posed.” With monstrous strength the wolf pounded the ground, the entire room vibrating before the ceiling collapsed and buried Juleka under the rubble.

“Please… stop this!” Chloe cried out, but the wolf was a showman, and this dark performance was far from over.

Pulling her next victim from the void, Alya was the next star of the twisted tragedy. “Alya, oh she is a troublesome one isn’t she. Even more than Dupain-Cheng, she had the audacity to stand up to you day one. She was the first to see you for the demon you really are, and you couldn’t have that. She wanted to be the journalist, promote the truth above all else. You had to make sure she took a fall for it.” With a snap of the wolf’s fingers heavy steal chains began to wrap themselves around Alya and pull her to the ground where the weight kep her immobile. And as an added insult the wolf personally strapped a muzzle to Alya’s face, preventing her from speaking.

“But those were just the appetizers. I think you know who the main event is” the wolf Chloe spoke as she bathed in the tension and misery of the moment. And Chloe knew damn well who her other half was taking about, and she wasn’t sure she could handle anymore of this torture. If seeing her friends attacked like this twice could hurt her like this, then whatever she had planned for Alix would break her.

Just like Chloe feared, Alix was brought out of the same void that the others were and just like the others, the wolf wasted no time to start playing with her new prey. Unlike the others however, was how all over Alix the other her was.

“Oh, Alix Alix Alix. You seem to have special place in Chloe’s shriveled little heart. The girl with patience and determination. The one who reached out when no one ever would. You probably came closer than anyone to breaking through her walls and oh, how that SCARED her. She couldn’t let anyone in. She couldn’t have anyone know just how WEAK she actually is. So, what did she do? She locked you out and tossed you aside to fend for yourself.”

“Please!” Chloe cried out, the tears strolling down her face as her body refused to budge. “No more, please you can’t hurt her!”

“Oh sweety,” the wolf leaned in real close as it wiped a tear off of chloe’s face, “I haven’t done anything you haven’t done yourself.” And with a lazy flick of her wrist an ethereal mirror emerged from the darkness, and from it, shadowed arms pierced the veil within it, latching on to Alix from all angles.

“Chloe listen to me!” Alix called out as the shadows began to drag her towards the mirror. “This isn’t all that you are! you’re more than just your mistakes! You’re Chloe fucking Bourgeoius!” The shadows finally claimed Alix and trapped her behind the surface of the glass, lost and alone in its void. She stayed there behind the surface, banging on the barrier and shouting at Chloe, but her words too, were lost to the void.

“Why?” Chloe begged “Why are you doing this?”

“Why?” the wolf replied, an infuriating amount of glee in her voice, like Chloe was finally playing the game shed been waiting for. “Why, because your time is done of course. You were always too weak, and because of it you lashed out like a brat and not the predator that I can make us. Your fear kept us from having everything we ever wanted and I’m not putting up with it any longer. I want to hunt, I want a pack, and I want to take my rightful place as the Alpha. But to do that, I need you gone.”

With that the other Chloe finally let her claws reach her full majesty as she took slow measured steps to her counterpart. Chloe could practically feel them vibrate in tune with her own heartbeat that slowed to a crawl in her desperation. Here she was desperately seeking a way to save her friends and instead she found judgement for her crimes… maybe she really was the worse half of herself… maybe she didn’t deserve everything she had… maybe…

“Wait…” Chloe spoke, the tears paused as Chloe started down her other half in contemplation, the wolf stopping her approach with an equal sense of curiosity. “You said you wanted a pack but… this IS my pack…”

For the first time since her arrival, Chloe found herself able to move. Taking slow steady steps, she approached the petrified Sabrina first. Placing her palm on the outline of the wound on her throat, some of the darkness began to fade as the wound shimmered and faded, revealing a newly flesh and blood Sabrina, with Chloe now sporting the old injury.

“You told me that I silenced Sabrina… “Chloe rasped out as it became much more painful to speak. ”and you’re right that at one time I did…”

“But when she let me go…” Sabrina continued for her as she held Chloe close, “I not only found my own voice, I became someone she can have actual meaningful conversations with.”

Not letting the moment go to waste, Chloe made her way to where Juleka was buried, and from the bleeding wound she reached out with a handful of the blood and let it pour between the cracks. As she did so, her colors became more and more muted until she stood there fully monochrome save for her blood. With a bit of a rumble, Juleka emerged from the rubble, not only no worse for wear but with the purples and reds of her ensemble glowing brightly.

“You told me that I hid Juleka out of jealousy… and fear of being hidden myself…” Chloe began.

“And while she may have been a bitch about it at first, eventually she let me shine, and instead of her fading away, I lead her to a group where she never had to hide again,” Juleka continued as she took her place proudly by Chloe’s side.

Next up was Alya. She snapped the chains that held Alya in place and as Alya regained her strength, Chloe could feel hers leaving her as she nearly collapsed. Alya catching her before she hit the ground.

“You said I thought Alya was only ever going to tear me down…” Chloe began.

“But after butting heads enough times, I like to think that I helped make her even stronger than she was before” Alya continued as she lifted Chloe up, tossing the girl’s arm over her shoulders for support.

Together the group made their way to Alix’s mirror, Alix herself calming down from the other side as Chloe hobbled over. Chloe placed her hand on the glass and Alix did the same as they stared at each other longingly.

“As for Alix… you told me I was afraid of what could happen if she ever got close…. But now the only I fear…” said Chloe as her hand pushed past the veil and grasped Alix’s hand firmly in her own.

“Is to ever have to spend another day without her by my side” Alix finished as Chloe pulled her free with the little strength she had left, the two quickly embracing as though the rest of the world didn’t exist. As the emotions flowed so did the lights as they shimmered around the pair, and as they faded, there stood Chloe not only fully restored, but perhaps a little stronger as well. Turning to face her doppelganger, Chloe stood defiantly.

“You told me I was weak, and honestly you’re probably right. I WAS weak. But these people changed that. They made me stronger, and even more than that, they saved me from being alone. And it didn’t end there, because once I opened up to them, they invited even more into the fold.” From the shadows, shimmers of light appeared as others materialized, Aroure, Kagami, and Feybrina taking their place with the rest of the group. “Every single one of them became a valuable part of me. My pack and my power. But… so are you…”

The Wolf paused at that, not in aggression, but in curiosity as though it had been holding out for this exact moment.

“You’re me, all of this, the pain, the ferocity, the theatrics, this is all just a big show in my head to test me. You wanted me to think you’re this evil part of me but you’re not. You’re not just anger, you’re my passion. You’re not just my ferocity, you’re my focus. And you’re not just my instinct to survive, you’re my need to protect. So, let’s cut the bullshit and do this the way only Chloe fucking Bourgeois can. We want to be the Alpha? Then I think its about time to show that so called ‘hunter’ what happens when you fuck with the pack of the Alpha Bitch.”

And like a force of nature the storm and darkness swirled away in a flurry, revealing the brilliance of a massive shinning full moon through the skylight above. The Wolf bathed in the ethereal glow and was sporting the most triumphant feral smile as she approached her counterpart with open arms.

“My dear Chloe” she spoke as she embraced her other half. “I thought we’d never ask.” And In a flash the world retuned to darkness once more.

 —–

The hunter was prepared to strike Alix when he heard a rumble beside him. Now, towering over the hunter, stood a massive werewolf with a mane of silver hair that glowed in the moonlight and a pair of deep purple eyes that burned with righteous fury.

“No, that’s not possible!” shouted the hunter “Its a blasted new moon! I made sure that you wouldn’t be able to stand against me! How are you doing this!”

The wolf cared nothing for the ranting of the hunter as there was only one thought at the center of its focus.

“Unhand my mate…” the beast snarled, its voice briming with the commanding echoes of power that could send shivers of fear down the spines of the most battle-hardened warriors. “and surrender…” She took a single step forward and it felt as though the earth itself roared in reverence of the true predator. “or die…”

The hunter chose wrong as he tried to plunge the blade towards Alix as a threat. That was the final mistake as the beast lunged faster than most could even think. There were no screams. There was no struggle. The hunter got his wish in a way… there was a monster slain that night.

 —–

When Alix awoke it was to the sight of Chloe getting dressed in the darkness of the night. She blushed a bit as she waited a moment before calling casting a simple illumination charm, alerting the other girl to her presence. She’d vehemently deny peaking to anyone that’d ask.

“Hey” the wolf girl called out to her companion in tired acknowledgement, although the small smile spoke volumes to the shorter girl.

“Hey yourself, what did I- Holy shit! Chloe Your eyes! Your hair!” Alix responded.

As Chloe came in range of the small light, the sight that shocked Alix was clear. Where once was a head of golden hair now flowed a practical river of sliver threads, and where once there were deep sky-blue eyes now rested a pair of mesmerizing violet eyes that pulsed with equal parts compassion and fury.

“Yeah… might be hard to explain, but I think it’s a good look on me. Makes me feel… complete.”

“Chloe what happened… I saw you transform but after that… what happened to the hunter?”

“He’s been… taken care of. Let’s leave it at that… PLEASE.” Chloe made her way to Alix and cuddled up to her side, desperately hanging on to her like her senses demanded she make sure she didn’t disappear.

“Alright…” Alix responded, deepening the embrace herself. “I thought we were goners there for a while…”

“I would never let someone take away my pack” Chloe lightly growled. Alix let that sink in for a bit as she could feel Chloe’s emotions flow through their bond completely uninterrupted. She could feel Chloe’s protectiveness, her gratitude, her relief, and her regrets all at once, but try as she might she couldn’t ignore that single strand that refused to be hidden, as if asking her to reach out for it

“Chlo… before I passed out… I heard you call me your mate… does that mean-“ that was as far as Alix got before her senses were flooded both physically and magically as Chloe kissed her with all the force and passion she could muster. She was overloaded by the new physical sensations but what really took her breath away was the massive waves of pure love and adoration that Chloe gave off. She didn’t think a million conversations could communicate what Chloe could through their bond and she couldn’t help but return the favor herself. After what felt like a lifetime condensed into a mere fraction of a second, Chloe pulled away and with the most peaceful smile Alix had ever seen on her, she grabbed her hand in hers.

“We have an eternity to talk about this, but for now, I think its safe to assume that the answer to any of your questions is yes. What we need to do now though, is take care of our friends. You start healing the others. I’ve got Jules” Chloe said as she began to pull away.

“Right… and Chloe?” Chloe turned around to be met with Alix pecking her lips. And with that Alix went off after the others, her face almost as red as her hair and a dopey grin on her face.

With a smile of her own she made her way to Juleka who was only just starting to wake up. Offering her arm, she got Juleka’s attention with a small shake. “Come on Marceline, breakfast is ready”

Unable to resist her impulses in her weakened state, Juleka dove right in and began to drain blood out of the offered limb, Chloe’s accelerated healing likely the only think keeping her from being sucked dry. Juleka seemed to perk up more as she had her fill, and her missing arm began to rapidly grow into place.

“Ah shit” Juleka gasped as though coming up for air after so long. “Wow that’s potent stuff. Sorry about that by the way. I’d say I owe you one, but somethings telling me its more than just one I owe you.”

“We can talk about that later…” Chloe said as she sat down to rest next to the goth. “I actually wanted to say thank you…”

“Thank you? I’m pretty sure you’re the one that saved my ass. Nice look by the way, I expect the story on that too later.”

“Thanks, and It’s not because of that… it’s because you’re the one that started all this, I wouldn’t have this pack if it wasn’t for you. I wouldn’t be the person I am now without everyone, including you… so thank you.”

“Never thought I’d see the day Chloe Bourgeois went sappy on me.”

“Oh, shut it you. Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous.”

They were both silent for a minute before both bursting into laughter. When they both calmed down again Juleka couldn’t resist the one question hanging over both of their heads.

“Things are never going to be normal, or at least normal for us, again after this, is it?”

“No, I don’t think it will… but honestly, maybe that’s a good thing. We’ve made connections I’d never trade for all the treasures in the world.” As she caught site of the others all awake with grateful smiles as  they all huddled together, she couldn’t help but think aloud “I think as long as this pack sticks together, things are going to be alright.”

———————

OH SHIT. WELL HOT DAMN! NICE! FUCKING SUBLIME!

Very big shounen power of friendship vibes and bRO IM FUCKING THRIVING YALL KNOW I LOVE THAT SHIT

[sparklingpax]

Tales From Iacon - Part 2: Intentions

A/N: 

-Part one can be found here and I also have a wattpad where I’m posting updates as well as other stories! (user is @/kunixjiro)

-Idk if this was an appropriate title for this part but the idea was that they both had their own intentions and well....you can see how it turned out.

-Sorry if this is badly written (and for any typos, mistakes, weird phrasings, etc)

-Also sorry that this is long af O//O’’

-This part isn’t so fluffy ^^’’ But dw I promise I’ll resolve everything in time....anyway, hopefully nothing got too ooc or anything! Enjoy!! <3

///

It was no secret that Megatronus was a gladiator.

He was not ashamed or afraid to admit his purpose—to kill both beast and bot alike.

For the entertainment of the crowds, and in accordance with Cybertron’s corrupt caste system. 

            Such a life was a choice he’d made long ago, when he rose up from the mines and cast away the life of a meaningless energon miner. With it, he’d cast away a name given to him—a name which held no meaning anyway.

             D-16 was no more—he was Megatronus now.

///

            The wild cheering of the crowds invigorated Megatronus, fueling his drive to utterly mutilate the monster hulking before him. All he could think of was the desire to fight stronger and harder than ever before—to show off his power so he could bask in the glory of the hundreds all around calling his name.

             “Megatronus! Megatronus! Megatronus!”

               The deafening roar of the onlookers filled his audio receptors, causing Megatronus to grin wildly, and the injured monster to bellow in terror. It stumbled forward hastily, only for Megatronus to dodge and deal another blow with his sword. Much to the delight of the crowd, the beast cried out in pain and reared up to attack Megatronus again.

             There was no fear as Megatronus gazed into the black eyes of the beast, lit only with primal rage. They bored into him for only a moment before it shook its head and charged.

             Call my name! Call it louder—shout it to the skies, Cybertronians!  

             He stood in battle stance, breathing hard but not yet tired. Bright lights all around blazed down on his plating, making the grey and burgundy glow as silver and red. His optics were alight with a wild look, as if he knew the battle was over and victory was in his very grasp.

             Megatronus tossed away his shield, gripping the hilt of his sword tighter. He released a savage cry and charged right at the monster. Screams of excitements and fear sounded from every angle as he neared the gaping jaws of his opponent.

             The gladiator swung the sword and neatly sliced off half of the grey tongue that greedily reached out at him. The monster instantly recoiled, writhing in pain. Blue blood sprayed everywhere. The warm, sticky liquid showered Megatronus as he slid the weapon into its holder at his hip.

             He paid no mind to it, for he had known the tongue would bleed the most.

             Megatronus took a running leap off the dirt and landed on the back of the beast. With his own servos, he grabbed its snout and yanked it towards him, bending its neck backwards to injure it further. It tried to swing him off, but Megatronus stabbed his sword into its body. The crowd collectively shrieked with anticipation upon seeing the legs of the monster buckle beneath him.  

             Before it could scream in pain again, he vaulted off its body to the side, twisting its neck with a fatal, sickening crack. There was a brief, abrupt silence while the monster moaned more quietly, attempting to move. It crumpled inward with a low huff.

               A pool of energon gushed out from its wounds, soiling the ground around it as Megatronus backed away to watch it die. He grinned with pure delight—breathing heavily, limbs quivering with exhaustion—at his work. Only seconds later, the beast went totally limp.

               It was done.

             The volume of the crowd was loud enough to sound as if the whole of Cybertron had packed into the small stadium.

              Megatronus was victorious again.

             He felt pride and joy rush through him as he raised his sword and cried out to the masses before him.

              “I AM MEGATRONUS, KING OF THE PITS OF KAON!!!”

             “Megatronus! Megatronus! Megatronus! Megatronus! ”

             “I AM LIVING PROOF THAT ONE DECIDES HIS OWN DESTINY!!”

               Hundreds packed together in the seats raised their servos and shouted as loud as they could, amazed by the skill of the gladiator before them, and filled with inspiration. Megatronus felt something warm in his spark, for he knew Orion was one of the many voices.

               There was no disputing it now, D-16 was truly no more.

///

             Outside the arena’s seating, there was a dimly lit, blue corridor. Various clumps of bots milled around there. Some were making their way out from the seats, conversating excitedly about the fighting, or were making their way back in. Others stayed outside for whatever reason they had. A quiet murmuring filled the space, contrasting greatly from the deafening roar of the arena.

             Orion Pax had his back up against the wall, breathing hard. He tried to steady his breath, attempting to erase the images of the brutal murdering of that beast from his mind.

             He had never seen anything so violent in his whole life.

             Orion couldn’t bear it a second longer, hearing the crowd cheer hungrily for the monster to suffer more, and chanting all the louder for its death. All of it had felt so…wrong. For a second, he had wondered if everyone in there had lost their senses. Surely a society of civilized people wouldn’t bee chanting for the death of a living, breathing creature? Or will it to be tortured?

             And yet…they were.

             He had slipped out to regain himself a little, and decided he’d return to his place when the act was finished. At least, if Orion didn’t watch some of the real fight, he’d see the aftermath. After all, Megatronus had invited Orion as a…somewhat esteemed guest. It was only fair that Orion, too, should raise his voice to cheer his friend on.

              I’m here for Megatronus.

             I’m here because he invited me.

             I’m…here to…support him….

             His stomach turned upon thoughts of what he was doing to the creature at the moment. He heard a loud roar of pain and the noise of the crowd increased greatly. Orion shook his head and slid down to a sitting position.

              I’ll…I’ll wait here until it sounds like it’s over…or else….I just might purge…

///

             “So then, Soundwave,” Megatronus shook hands with the quiet mech and nodded. “I’ll be off. I’m meeting someone now. We can speak again tomorrow, if you like.”

             Soundwave nodded, then turned and left. Megatronus watched him go, interest dancing vaguely in his gaze.  

              What an interesting bot, being so quiet and yet saying so much.

              The gladiator was suddenly hit with a wave of exhaustion, and it seemed the adrenaline that had pushed him through the fight was finally fading. With a small grunt, Megatronus stumbled and fell against the corridor’s wall for support. To Megatronus’ frustration, his legs were tremoring a little. He let out a sigh, straightening again after a moment with a small wince.  

             I suppose I…expended a bit too much of my energy today…

             He still felt pride and joy in his victory.

             Even still, all my efforts were worth it. I stand alive once more.

             “Good evening, Megatronus!”

             Orion’s voice reached Megatronus before he sighted his friend at the other end of the corridor. Orion picked up pace and jogged down the hall to meet him.

             Megatronus immediately felt his exhaustion dissipate.

             Orion had seen the fight!

             He was eager to know what Orion had thought of it all. He knew it Orion’s first time seeing something as graphic and epic as this.

             But more than that, Megatronus was eager to know what Orion thought of him. Battle brought out his truest form, and that form was Megatronus’ greatest pride. Having somewhat of an ego, Megatronus knew that deep down, all he needed to keep going was some sort of praise.  

             After all, who wouldn’t? Validation is a beautiful thing, especially in one’s own art. 

             “Orion, it brought me much joy to know you could make it tonight!” He and Orion shook servos and greeted one another, then started slowly back up the hall so they could leave the building. Megatronus continued, “How unfortunate you could not have seen me last week, when I, with great fervor, slayed—”

             He paused, sensing Orion tense up next to him and look away.

             Odd.  

             “Never mind. Anyway, you are usually too busy with your studies or your work. How is it that you came tonight?” Orion sighed.

             “My apologies. I hope to be a master archivist one day, and full commitment to my studies is essential for me to reach that goal.” He looked up at the sky speckled with thousands of stars and smiled. Shifting his gaze to Megatronus, who was listening intently, he nodded. “I did get time off tonight, though. I have Alpha Trion to thank for that.”

             Megatronus patted him on the back.

             They continued through the quiet streets of Kaon—well, the backstreets, to be specific. Megatronus knew how ugly the main streets could get with all the crazy bots running around at night. He wanted no part in it tonight as long as Orion was with him.

             And Orion is no fighter.

             “Megatronus, uhm…” Orion’s voice jolted him out of his thoughts. He looked a little nervous. He fiddled with his fingers for a moment before taking a deep breath. “I…I hope you can be patient with me.”

             “What?”

             “You might feel offended.” Orion tried elaborating. Megatronus, however, was not following. “I am only asking that if you are mad, that you don’t take it out on someone else…or that you can understand what my reasoning was.”

             Offended? It made little sense. Yet his friend remained tense, and would not meet his gaze. Megatronus immediately felt guilty. Have I said something wrong?

             “Orion, I do not understand what it is you refer to!” He picked up his pace, trying to think of changing the subject. He so desperately wanted to know about what Orion had thought of his battle with the monster!  

             “About the fight tonight…” Orion’s gaze dropped to the ground and he halted. Megatronus, who had walked a few paces ahead, stopped and turned. Oh, he read my mind. How funny; I was just about to ask!

              “Listen, Orion, whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not—”

              “I had to leave halfway through the fight. I…” He slowly lifted his gaze to meet his friend’s. As he’d suspected, the beginnings of frustration had already begun to spark into it. He mustered all his confidence to finish. “I waited in the hall because I couldn’t take anymore of the violence…or the bloodthirsty crowd. It…did not feel right at all.”

              An uncomfortable silence weighed on the pair.

              At last, Megatronus turned away and sighed quietly, breaking the silence. Orion felt guilt and embarrassment to the depths of his spark. He opened his mouth to say more, then thought it better not to. He figured Megatronus would have something to say to him.

             “So…that’s it?” Disappointment was fully evident in his voice, causing Orion’s spark to twist more. Megatronus turned back to his friend and moved closer. His hands were folded behind his back. Orion swallowed.

             My intentions were to be honest, but I fear I have taken an imprudent course of action…

             Orion decided not to voice the thought. Instead, he quietly responded, “Yes.”

             “I would be lying if I didn’t tell you that I’m…very hurt, Orion.” Megatronus kept his voice level as he gazed into the archivist’s eyes, yet Orion could still hear dejection in its tone.

             He realized he had to fix this.  

             But how? What do I say? Orion Pax, you foolish child!! He scorned himself internally.

             “I am sorry, Megatronus. I understand that words will do no good, but for the moments I was there, your courage in the face of the beast was admirable.” Megatronus looked away. Indignance and annoyance welled up inside him.

              He’s probably making it up.

             “And that is the honest truth.”

             Orion looked earnest.

             He also looked and sounded guilty.

              Is it? Or are you telling me what I want to hear? Why did you come if you knew you couldn’t stand violence and a crowd’s wildness? Orion, you anger me…or rather…

             Megatronus then remembered his friend’s quiet plea for peace and patience beforehand. To lash out at him would wound their friendship forever, and give Orion the wrong impression of Megatronus. All that aside, Megatronus realized he…felt no anger towards his friend. The heated emotions faded, quickly replaced by pangs of rejection.

             …such is my fate, being a lower-caste bot raised in blood, darkness and cold steel. Of course Orion does not find it beautiful, and I should not have forced him to witness such things.

             It seemed they would have to allow time to do its work.

             Megatronus began to walk away, saying nothing more. Orion called after him, but received no reply. His friend disappeared into the shadows of the night, leaving Orion feeling guilty and ashamed.

              I won the battle, but I now feel…defeat.

              Megatronus felt exhaustion creep back into his limbs.

///

             On his way out of the city, Orion paid no attention to the tranquil, moonlit nature around him. He was instead lost in thought.

             Had I said nothing, I’d have lied.

             He shook his head.

             I can’t lie. I won’t lie. I know it would have come out eventually, and he would still be hurt. 

             A pang of sadness twisted his spark again. 

             Why couldn’t I bear it even for his sake? It is because I do not understand it that I fear it, I know. But...it is his joy...his art....and I was not there for him.

             As he reached a train station, Orion still did not have any real thoughts in mind as he punched in the location for his ticket.

             When the train arrived, Orion boarded and sat by the window.

             I realize now that my intentions were faulted. It would have been better to stay quiet, becuase then I would not have hurt him.

             He closed his eyes.

             Time will have to heal this wound.

[bangtan-gal]

Cupid’s Game

Hwang Hyunjin x Fem!Reader, Han Jisung x Fem!Reader Part 1 | Part 2 Word Count: 4.9k  Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, a pretty soft chapter overall. The fun stuff comes next chapter  Soulmate!AU Fantasy!AU Cupid!Hyunjin A/N: I apologize if the explanation is confusing, I clear it up better next chapter 

“Y/N, I’m so glad you could make it!” 

Your smile wasn’t nearly as wide as your counselor’s as she lead you into her office. For the past seventeen years of your life, you had to deal with these stupid yearly counseling sessions. She acted as your therapist and advisor, trying to help you understand the world you had been born into. But once you turned eighteen, everything changed. Now,  your main goal was supposed to be finding your soulmate and living life happily.

Unfortunately for your advisor, you weren’t actually trying.

The logs you’d given her for every monthly evaluation had been faked. You hadn’t traveled around, paid extra attention to especially cute people, and you had completely ignored any “tugging from the depths of your soul.” Sure, there had been times where it felt like your heart literally jumped, but you never felt this unpreventable need to find the apparent love of your life. 

You handed her the folder once again and then followed your same old routine of collapsing into the recliner chair and checking your nails as you waited for her to confirm your adventures. While your log suggested an exciting life, your life was really anything but. You were focusing solely on your classes, using your status to move ahead with ease. Most people like you—stupidly called doxies—were well-known celebrities and were doted on by everyone.   They had no talent, no job, no degree, absolutely nothing with merit, but yet they still had more recognition and money that everybody else.

The reason your “kind” even existed was because of the close destruction to humankind hundreds of years ago. After chemical warfare that took over the whole planet, the human race was almost completely wiped out. And when extinction was right around the corner, someone or… something proposed the idea of perfect couples. The first doxies were created, quickly fell in love, and had children that were stronger. The being who created these people was called a ‘Cupid’ and from there, the society you lived in today was created. 

Every time you thought of it, the more insane the idea became. It didn’t matter how many times it was explained to you. Doxies were born with perfect genes, along with the mutation factor that caused them to feel extremely connected to another one of their kind. Because of the perfect genes, their children became better with each new generation and somehow, it created a world that was mostly peaceful and united. 

There were many theories as to why the creation of doxies kept wars to a minimum. Some believed that the children they had were born with lower violence tendencies. Others thought that it was more of a psychological game: everyone had to believe in the Cupid, so the main cause of war disappeared. Or that since doxies were so worshipped, it gave humans a better thing to do than to brutally murder one another. 

Simply put, you were born to be an incubator to perfect little babies and it was the last thing you wanted to be.

You looked up from your nails, watching as Leila turned through the last few pages of your log. Normally, she would be smiling as she read over your pages, but there was an unimpressed frown on her face. You bit your lip, hoping that she wasn’t expecting you to “do more.” 

“You know,” she hummed, letting the folder flutter closed, “I’m not an idiot.”

You opened your mouth, but she talked over you.

“Y/N, I can tell you haven’t done anything. I know you haven’t done anything for the past seven months. You’re not my first client, my dear. I can tell when someone is faking,” she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She was silent for a few seconds, brushing her hair from her face before she looked at you. “Although I am not a doxy, I can understand your disposition against this whole ordeal. But, you have to understand something.”

You raised an eyebrow at her, indignation starting to flare up. Leila leaned over her desk, her blonde hair falling across her face as she did. She didn’t flinch at your narrowed gaze, just met it with a calm one of her own.

“You are playing with higher power my dear,” she whispered. There was evident fear in her voice and it started to unnerve you. “I know you don’t want to be forced to love someone, but the problem is that not only is the government strict on this whole ordeal, you also have the Cupid to deal with. Yes, doxies are given wealth and fame beyond imagination, but they are more strict with you than anyone else.  

“You haven’t experienced it yet because you are so young, but Y/N, if you haven’t found your soulmate by the time you’re 21 and announced your marriage, the government will come after you. I think it’s stupid too, but as stupid as the whole idea is, the human race does rely on the mixed genes of two doxies—”

“But, we’re no longer worrying about extinction!” You argued.

“There are things you don’t understand!” She shouted, standing up. Her hands slammed on the table. “You think I got this job because I got some psychology degree and minored in Cupid studies? I got this job because the government decided I was trustworthy enough to know what’s really going on with this whole soulmate getup!” She sat down, burying her face in her hands. You sat there, stunned. It was hard to say what shocked you more: her shouting at you or whatever she had just revealed. What was it that you didn’t understand? Was the human race still fighting extinction? Chemical destruction? Leila cleared her throat, adjusting her shirt and patting her cheeks. Her face was bright red. 

“Y/N, unfortunately, I am in no place to tell you of what is going on, but I suggest you actually start looking for your soulmate. Because if you don’t: everything your family has gained because of your genes will disappear. They will disappear. You will be taken into custody, the government will find your soulmate for you, and you will lose any chance at the freedom you had before.”

She handed you back your faked log, blue eyes sad. Once you took the folder, she motioned you to leave, and you wearily did.  Your stomach was rolling. Your family had been in poverty before you’d been born. It was your existence that put dinner on the table and a roof over your head—but now it was more than just your existence—it was your cooperation. You didn’t need Leila to elaborate on what exactly freedom meant; you had a sickening idea of what losing it meant.

You sat in your car, watching as people passed by. Your fingers traced the tattoo on your wrist: a branding you had been given at birth. A branding that defined your whole life. The branding that took away your chance to truly live: find love on your own, make friends, fight your own struggles, and not live your life with someone always watching you. People always recognized that mark: smiling at you, congratulating you, sometimes even going as far as to bow. You thought of the mandatory checks you had at the police station when you were ten and fifteen. 

With a huff, you started your car and drove away. Part of you just wanted to keep driving to see how far you could go and where you could get lost, but you knew better than that. The first thing you’d been warned of when you turned fifteen was that you would always be watched. You learned that quickly, because any little thing you did to act out, you had to have a serious talk with some man in your house. He never told you of any future consequences, he would just always say that you were a vital part of society. You always figured that it meant you were a role model to regular humans, but now you started to question that. Was humanity still fighting extinction? Or is there a bigger role that doxies play?

You pulled into the driveway and climbed out of your car. The home you lived in was big enough to house seven families, but only four of you lived there. Five if you count your dog. You stepped inside and didn’t bother to say hello as you walked to your room. 

You wanted to be alone, but that plan was changed when you noticed your younger sister sitting on your bed. She was flipping through a magazine and glanced up as you sadly slumped onto your bed. A huff escaped her and she closed the magazine.

“What are you pouting about now?” She asked, tapping your head. You rolled onto your back, crossed your arms over your stomach, and stared at the ceiling. 

“I absolutely have to find my soulmate,” you muttered, “they’re forcing me to.”

She tilted her head at you. “You act as if it’s a bad thing that you for sure have love out there.”

You frowned. 

“I don’t think you understand how much it sucks to have your free will taken away from you,” you grumbled. She rolled her eyes, laying down beside you. The two of you were silent for a few more minutes, both of you just staring at the old glow in the dark stars on your ceiling. They glowed faintly in the dusk light. 

“You didn’t lose your free will, Y/N,” she said, “think of it as if it’s a fairy tale. You have true love out there, but every decision you make up to that point and afterward is your own. Plus, your soulmate is supposed to be your perfect match. That’s how the Cupid pairing works—it’s not like you’ll be miserable.”

“Maybe the Cupid messed up, I’m a complicated person.”

“Everybody’s a complicated person,” she snapped and then rolled onto her side to stare at you. “What about your soulmate? What if they want to meet you? What if love is the one thing they need in their life, what are they going to do if you refuse to be found?”

You smiled bitterly at her.

“Why do you have to sound so smart?”

She smiled back at you. Her hand found yours and she squeezed gently. She tucked her head against your shoulder. 

“And if it doesn’t work out perfectly, all that matters is that the cameras show a happy couple right?”

That’s what you used to think—that your life would become a reality show. But there was more to it than that. You had to have kids and raise them right. You had to contribute to society. You had to be happy with your life and play by the Cupid’s rules. 

But laying there, letting your mind run, you couldn’t bring yourself to accept that. No one had seen the Cupid in hundreds of years. Who was to say that it was still alive? Why should you live your life like a game that was created by some dusty creature that hadn’t been seen in centuries?

♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠

A year passed slowly. 

Nothing exciting happened in the year. You turned nineteen, got a job, and continued to work towards you goal of becoming a lawyer. Leila still saw you once a month, looking thoroughly unimpressed by every fake log you handed her. But she no longer fought with you and it seemed that she’d also accepted whatever fate was to be bestowed upon you. She would mutter about the government and the Cupid and how things are looking down for you. 

But for all her worrying and muttering, you didn’t see any problems. You weren’t given any warnings or had any talks with some official in your house.They didn’t seem to be paying attention to you and it felt like you were free to live your life. 

The only thing you forgot was that your soulmate could find you. 

Fall was nearing and the days were growing slower. The air was crisp and cold. You were walking your dog through the park, lost in your own world. School wasn’t going as well as you had hoped—your grades were falling and quickly.

You weren’t given much time to worry about your grades though. A finger tapped your shoulder and  you came face to face with a boy. He was near your height, his hair a dark, messy mop, and his eyes were deep brown. You froze when his hand dropped from your shoulder and skimmed over your fingers.

“You-you’re—” 

“Do you mind?” You shrieked, forcing yourself out of the stupor. You moved away from him, keeping your hand pressed to your chest. Your dog stirred nervously at your feet, uncertain of what to think of the stranger. 

He blinked. 

“You’re my soulmate,” he breathed. You pursed your lips. Fear started to creep over his features at your silence. His hands started to fidget at  his sides and his teeth dug into his lip. Doubt started to cloud his eyes. “I-I mean, it feels like you are.”

His hand pressed over his heart. 

You held your breath for a few seconds and closed your eyes. This was it; this was your chance. Your chance to prove that your life is your own and you didn’t owe it to anybody to fall in love with this boy. You let your breath out.

“I’m just going to get this over with: I am, but I don’t want to be. Love is a choice, a feeling that’s not forced upon someone. It might feel like we love one another, but we don’t,” you paused, your eyes finally opening to meet his, “and I’m not going to try and pretend. The government can screw their… what stupid game this is.”

He was silent, his eyes searching yours. Whatever strength that had been in you started to wane. The hurt, the fear, and the confusion in his eyes was enough to make you wonder if what you were doing was really right. If the government was watching: you weren’t only getting yourself hurt. He was going to get hurt because of you too. 

You didn’t even know his name.

“Look, I’m so—”

“Well this doesn’t seem right.”

You blinked, trying to find the  body of the voice. But as you continued to, your vision started to swim. The world spun around you and your whole body started to give out beneath you. You stumbled, reaching out your hands blindly to catch your fall. 

You managed to catch yourself, but everything around you was quickly changing. There was a distant sound of your dog barking and the feeling of a light breeze, but it swiftly faded. The cement turned to marble, the cold turned to a perfect temperature, and the smell of hay and dead leaves was replaced by an indescribable scent. Like your mother’s cooking or the smell of Christmas.  You glanced up, staring at the place you were in. Pristine quartz walls rose up high to a completely glass ceiling. Not far in front of you, two large, dark double doors were shut. There was a strong urge pulsing from deep inside to open those doors, but you were unable to move, scared of whatever would happen. 

“What the hell?”

You jumped, glancing over your shoulder. Your soulmate sat on the floor behind, his expression similar to yours as he took in your surroundings. Your heart dropped as the two of you made eye contact and the worry in your stomach grew. ‘You don’t even know what you’re dealing with Y/N.’ Not only had you gotten yourself in trouble, but your stubbornness dragged an innocent boy into the mix. 

Several minutes passed with the two of you just staring at one another. You were fighting the urge to cry, realizing that whatever was happening, what was about to happen, was entirely your fault. Your chin pressed against your chest and you covered your mouth, eyes pinching shut. Maybe you should’ve listened to Leila and your sister. You could’ve just accepted the truth: that your life was laid out for you the second you were born.

“Hey”—an arm was slung over your shoulders—“don’t cry. It’s going to be fine; we’ll be fine.”

You shook your head. 

“You don’t understand,” you gasped, “I’ve known the consequences of what would happen if I continued to fight my life. I got you dragged into this because I couldn’t just accept it.”

You looked at him, eyes brimming with tears. “I don’t know what’s going on, but we’re not in for anything good.”

Just then, the doors swung open. Loud footsteps echoed throughout the building. Your gaze moved up, watching as a boy—seemingly close in age to both of you—strut towards you. He wore a completely white silk jumper, with a light brown belt, and a dusty pink cape fluttering from his shoulders. His black hair was parted very far to the left, his eyes were just as dark as his hair. His skin was fair, such a contrast to his dark hair, that it looked close to white. His cheekbones were high, his jaw was sharp, and his body was lean. 

“Y/N Y/L/N. Han Jisung,” he hummed. His eyes ran over the two of you with something close to disdain. You watched him warily as he moved towards you.  He stopped once he was directly in front of you, slowly crouching down.  His fingers delicately grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up at him. Shivers ran down your spine as his gaze carefully traced your face before he moved on to stare at Jisung.

Then, as if he had been shocked, he pulled back from you. The boy stood up and backed away. Your body was shaking wildly, completely out of your control.  It had felt like a thousand tiny sparks had erupted when he touched you. It was a feeling of sheer power and you felt powerless next to him. 

“Are the two of you going to continue to sit on the floor like peasants? Come on, we have much to talk about,” he commanded, snapping his fingers. Jisung and you exchanged looks before the two of you rose together and hurried after the boy. 

The further you walked, the more amazed you became by the place. Your fear started to become replaced by awe as you walked past crystal walls and star-filled ceilings. The marble floor became darker and darker until you were walking on a smooth, black tile. Potted plants lined the walls, all sorts of flowers spilling over the pots and filling the air with a smell that was unlike any floral scent. 

Eventually, you stopped walking. The three of you stood in a simple room. A leather couch was pushed against a wall, a coffee table placed a few feet in front of it. None of you sat. Instead, the three of you stood, staring at each other. Finally, the mystery boy spoke.

“I am what you assume me to be,” he murmured, “a Cupid. Although, humans have a very… different ideas of what Cupids really are. Specifically being that there is no one cupid and that we are definitely not immortal.”

“Huh?”

You wished you had something more intelligent to say, but you were wavering between a mixture of fear and awe and it was messing with your mind. This place was amazing, but the way you got here and the boy in front of you were not something to take lightly. Before, the Cupid had just been some invisible thing that only existed in stories whenever people talked about the war.

“This might take a little more than I thought,” he groaned and then snapped his fingers. Your heart leaped and the next thing you knew you were sitting in a black armchair, the room around you dissolving into a more office-like place. The boy sat down across from you. “My name is Hyunjin. I am a Cupid.

“You see here, everything you think about Cupids are very, very wrong. The whole ‘soulmate’ get up has existed since the beginning of time. We’ve been creating perfect pairs for as long as we can remember,” he explained. He paused, watching the two of you carefully. When neither of you spoke, he continued. “Every couple has been put together by us. We work in the way people originally thought Cupids to be: shooting arrows at people when they meet and starting a love between them. Now in the past hundred years, a ‘different kind of human’ has come along. That was not our doing—that was the chemicals released during the war. Believe it or not, most of these perfect humans are not paired with others the same as them. Cupids put people together whenever they feel a spark between two people.”

Your mouth opened and closed, your mind struggling to keep up with what was happening. Because all you were hearing was that everything you told as a child was a lie. Of course, you weren’t sure if you were happy exactly over the idea. Oddly enough, it helped that the reason you were forced to love somebody wasn’t because of some perfect genes you were born with. 

“And Y/N,” Hyunjin said, his eyes meeting yours, “you’re not forced to love anybody. Many arrows don’t create a romantic relationship, but a very good friendship. Cupids were created for the sake of creating happy relationships.”

Your eyes narrowed as he continued to explain, but as he slowly finished up, you found your anger starting to dissipate.  There were still many questions that were floating in your mind, but there was a small form of clarity blooming in your mind. 

“Wait a second,” Jisung spoke up, “why are we here? Why are you explaining this? Like—it’s nice, believe me, but… I’ve never heard of this before.”

Hyunjin leaned back with a sigh. “Yes, that’s probably because we seem to be in a situation we’ve never stumbled upon before.”

His lips quirked up a bit as his eyes moved from Jisung to you.

“The arrow hit Jisung, but for whatever reason, I was unable to get Y/N.” Hyunjin watched you carefully as he started to roll up his sleeve. He showed the two of you his arm and your mouth dropped. While you had a number tattooed into your arm, you had also been born with a very dark, interestingly shaped birthmark on your stomach. 

The same exact shape was on Hyunjin’s wrist. 

“I believe that Y/N and I have several things to discuss,” he muttered, laughing to himself as he rolled his sleeve back down. “But for now, I think it’s best the two of you get settled. As much as I wish I could just send you back down to Earth, some things need to be figured out before you do.”

Hyunjin then proceeded to lead the pair of you to a room and left you there. It was a large room, but there was only one bed. You found it ironic that he was only just saying a few minutes ago that no was forced to love somebody else, but he was putting the two of you in a room together and claiming he had no others. In a place as big and majestic as this, you could imagine there was a hundred of bedrooms. 

But either way, you refused to act childish and give him the satisfaction of watching you squirm. The two of you agreed to share a bed, but you quickly noticed that Jisung seemed more uncomfortable that you did. He was fidgety as the two of you lay in bed, both of you clearly unable to sleep, but neither one saying a thing. 

Jisung broke the silence.

“So you’re telling me that when we touched… you didn’t feel anything?��� He asked quietly. You shifted, glancing over at him. 

“No?” You muttered, eyebrows furrowing. “Was there something?”

His hand slowly reached for yours, his fingers curling over yours. His hand was shaking as he did so and once your skin made contact, he gasped softly. It was hard to see in the dark, but from what you could tell, there was a light dancing in his eyes.

“It feels like there’s sparks going off between us. It-it just fills my body every time and its so hard to ignore. My heart starts racing and butterflies erupt…” he trailed off, a sad tone filling his voice. You felt genuinely bad. There was no way to say that you would never like him back, but at the moment, you felt nothing for this boy while he seemed to feel more than just a vague liking for you. 

“Hey,” you whispered, squeezing his hand, “don’t lose hope, okay? Everything is really confusing right now, but once we get out of here and understand exactly what is going on, the two of us can figure it out, ‘kay?” The more you thought about his explanation, the more worry started to worm its way into your stomach. Your mind ran back to when Hyunjin touched you: how it felt like electricity was running through your body and taking over your senses. The way he had pulled back, a shocked look on his face;  something wasn’t right. 

♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠♠

You woke up before Jisung with only one thought in your mind. Hyunjin knew more than he was letting on. Whether it was a tactic to leave you in the dark and play with you, or to spare Jisung’s feeling, you didn’t care. You had questions and they were going to be answered, whether the boy wanted to or not. 

The place was not easy to navigate. There were hundreds of halls and stairs and many of the rooms looked the same. It was by pure luck that you somehow managed to make it down to the and found Hyunjin. He didn’t look surprised to see you.

“Good morning,” he hummed. 

“Yeah,” you muttered, sitting down across from him at the table. You pulled your shirt up, pointing to the birthmark on the low left of your stomach. “What exactly does this mean? Who are you? Why couldn’t you hit me?”

He took a slow sip from his mug, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Y/N, you seem to think that I have more answers than I actually do. I have a few ideas, but those are much different than knowing, aren’t they?” He paused. His face was  swimming worriedly as his eyes zeroed in on the mark on your stomach. You let the shirt fall, shifting in your seat. “It-this concerns me deeply. I am… truly not sure. The ideas I have worry me because it would mean that other things are at work that I cannot control.”

“Could you stop being so fucking cryptic?” You snapped, slamming your hands on the table. Hyunjin didn’t even look remotely startled. His eyes just settled lazily on you again before he sighed.

“I fear that either another Cupid has… shot both of us somehow or that the universe folded once again.”

“What—”

“The universe folding is an expression we use to explain that something has fallen out of our hands. Every now and then, people are born with soulmates already chosen for them. Although that incident is also out of our hands, it truly only worries us when it happens to a Cupid,” he muttered, his voice growing quieter and quieter. You froze. Hyunjin frowned. 

“Are you trying to tell me… that we’re soulmates?” You squeaked out. Your face was burning bright red. This couldn’t be happening. Life was already too complicated, but this was just thrown at you so viciously.

“There is one way to tell.”

You were at attention immediately. You nodded, hoping to prove that whatever was happening was just fake. That the two of you having the same birthmark was just a crazy chance. Hyunjin stood up and walked towards you. Everything moved fast, too fast for you to stop it. His fingers moved your chin up and his lips pressed down to yours. For a second, you didn’t want it, but as his lips started to slowly move against yours, you started to melt into him. The moment you let yourself fall into the kiss, sparks erupted where you touched. Fire started to spread through your body and you were happily letting it consume you.

Your hands curled into his hair, pulling him closer and pressing yourself tighter against him. Hyunjin stumbled and he struggled to catch himself. He failed and fell against you, the two of you falling to the ground.  He pulled away with a gasp, his body heaving. His eyes were dilated and you were certain you looked the same.

“Holy shit,” he muttered, his body shaking against yours. “That-that was…”

“Crazy,” you whispered.

Your body was still alight at every place the two of you touched. Part of you tried to force yourself to hate it, but you couldn’t. It was like a rush; a drug that was stronger than any other. You were fighting the urge to just dive right back in. 

Then your mind went to Jisung and all the sparks disappeared. Your body went cold and you pushed Hyunjin away. Your eyes pinched shut. There was so much that you had to work out. If this was what Jisung felt every time he touched you, how were you supposed to reject him? It was addictive. 

“I can’t believe this,” you huffed. You looked up, staring at Hyunjin. 

“What kind of game did you people just throw me into?”

[readersperspective]

Writing Advice Character Motivation

Your story is driven foreward by what your characters are doing, and normally, by your characters doing something they usually wouldn’t do under normal circumstances. To get them to the point where they do it, you need a motivation that either pushes or pulls them to this action. Also, all of these motivations can be seen in various lights. They can motivate your character to do or to not do a thing by being there or by not being there.

To get you some inspiration for motivations, I collected the main ones a character can have. 

1. Morals

Of course this had to be my number one. It is the motivation of our brave knight in shining armour - morals. They fight for what they believe is right, they protect the weak and feed the poor because it is the right thing to do. Morals could also be the motivation of a very religious person, but also of a villain - for example when the villain wants to pressure the victims into following the same morals and ideas they have. Or when the villain thinks they are the only decent human being and have to force their mindset on everyone to bring peace to humanity. At first, “morals” might be a boring motivation, one that was used in the 50s to make superman look even more perfect, but especially for villains, it still is a great motivation, and we can get a lot of inspiration through history - most “historical villains” thought they did the right and justified thing.

2. Law and Order

This one is not hard to explain. If the monarch of your fictional kingdom suddenly decides that every citizen of their country has to go to the religious temple once a year, how many of these citizens would probably do it? People usually like rules, for various reasons - security being one of them, but also, again, morals. And most people follow these rules, if they don’t bother them too much, sometimes even without questioning them. Of course, this might not be the motivation for your rebellious troublemaker, but when you have a soldier, for example, that gets sent on a secret journey by their government, chances are they will go on that journey without questioning the order too much.

3. Honour

This might not be the motivation for your teenage protagonist of a story that is set in modern times, but apart from that, honour is a thing many people died for. Sometimes their personal honour, for example when someone questioned their abilities, sometimes the honour of the family (someone hear a little red dragon?), mostly when it comes to marriage, sometimes the honour of a loved one. It is closely tied to morals, again, imagine again your glorious knight seeing the poor people suffering - not only is itagainst their morals, but also against their honour to just walk by. It is also tied to law and order as well, because following the orders from the top often brings you your special piece of the honour cake, too. Honour is a great motivation for enemies turning into friends (I would not help you, but my honour forbids me to look away) as well as against enemies turning into friends (normally I would help you, but I am too proud to do so, you are my enemy!).

4. Family and Friends

This is a motivation that fits to nearly every character ever, because their barely are any characters that have absolutely no one they are close to. The motivation would be to protect their family or friends, but it could as well be about seeing them again or helping them. Or about keeping them out of harms way, or giving them a better life, or providing for them. Family makes people cross half the world and work themselves to death. And friends can be like family, too, sometimes and for some people they are the same. This motivation is great for every character, but I personally would love to see some villains with family and friends, too. Maybe a secret family they want to protect. Maybe a friend that is very close to them and that keeps them from doing worse things. There are a lot of ways to interpret this.

5. Love

Very close to family and friends, and yet very different. Of course, love can be about protecting someone or giving them a better life, too, but in contrast to family and friends, the love motivation often is about gaining love, too. While characters barely do things to gain more friends (although that absolutely is a thing), we see a lot of stories where a character does something to attract another one and gain their love. Also, romantic love often makes people do things platonic love would not, or not that fast. In its worst form, love can make people go blind and brutal. It is a common motivation in books, because it is a common motivation in real life, and because love is something most of us feel or search for, too. It’s easy to connect to a character that does something for love, but it is also easy to make your character seem a bit too head-over-heels or even creepy for doing something for a person they barely know (looking at you, Romeo and Julia, like what the hell).

6. Self protection

It is easy to understand, it is easy to connect to: self protection. A character with a healthy will to live will put this motivation over most of the others. When their life or health is being threatened, they will do their best to get out of harms way. Of course, most of the protagonists in our books ignore every warning that the journey to their goal or destination might be dangerous. But that is because at the point they decide to take that journey, often the threat is far away - yet. Once they actually meet it and see the whole extension of it, our protagonists often become scared, too, sometimes even run away, and have to decide again: is it worth the risks?

7. Personal Gain and Money

A very good motivation for the anti-heroes and villains. I certainly would not do that dangerous thing! But if you gave me, like a million dollars... I will think about it again. Good for heroes, too, as a secondary motivation at least, but anti-heroes often have the spicy addition of “the moment someone gives me more money than you do, I will not hesitate to accept their offer”. Of course, personal gain does not necessarily have to be money. It could also be a hidden treasure, a nice house, or any other material thing that the character hopes to gain once they accomplished the task.

8. Curiosity

The real treasure are the memories we made along the way, right? This motivation might not be the one that will make your character go to war, but certainly the one that will make your character go on a world trip or move for work. It is difficult to take as your main motive, because for most people, fear for their safety etc. will be stronger than curiosity, but if you have the typical explorer-character or if your story is more peaceful anyway, it is a beautiful motivation. Also, it is a great way to bring up your worldbuilding, either when your character explores the world themselves or when they start asking questions about what is happening around them.

9. Nostalgia

Why do we feel nostalgia? Thinking about it, it is weird to do something just because you did it as a child, or because you want to feel young again, or because you found a picture of your grandparents. And yet people do a lot of things “for the sake of old times”. This could be the perfect motivation for a character to reunite with old friends or to go back to a specific place.

10. Comfort

This one might not seem like a very strong motivation, but look at it from the other side: discomfort of the momentary situation. People would do a lot if you promise them that life will be more comfortable afterwards. Of course, that is often connected to personal gain / money, but you can reach more comfort with other things, too. People protesting against current climate politics has something to do with comfort, too. People not chosing to protest as well. It is more comfortable to close your eyes.

Of course, a character can have many motivations, so you can pick and choose and combine as you wish. I’d even say the combination is what brings spice into your story. How about a villain that does their bad actions to gain money, but also does their best to cover up that it has been them because they don’t want to disappoint their children? There we would have personal gain, honour, and family. Or a hero that does the task for gaining money for being able to provide for a life with their loved one, and also because it’s the right thing to do? Personal gain, love, maybe even family, depending on what they want to provide for, and morals.

Motivation really is a key aspect of your story. Be creative about it, but always remember: You don’t have to be the first one to tell that story, you just have to tell it different than anybody else.

[madou-dilou]

Why The Dragon Prince Season 3 messed up

SO I pRoMiSed YoU aN EssAY about why the third season of The Dragon Prince disappointed me, and as I'm arrogant enough to assume that you are interested in my opinion, I post it here. ;)

*rolling drums*

King Harrow sums up the conflict as a narrative of endless vengeance, wrongs on both sides, that had to be redeemed whatever the cost.When the Dragang finds the egg, they think about the peace that could come.

But when Rayla shows it to Runaan, he tries to kill her, then goes to murder Harrow. He learnt nothing from what happened and is just trapped into that eye-for-eye scheme. At this point, Runaan represents not only Xadia's ideology, but also the whole world scheme. The world is blinded by this narrative of revenge, so blinded that they refuse to considerate peace even at the cost of relatives -and yes, I’m including Viren if “the world”. So there's no guarantee that returning that egg will stop the war, especially that, as far as we know, it was the queen of the dragons herself who ordered this assassination mission.

And Xadians don't stop there. They seem to work actively on kindle the fire. Elves are gathering at the Breach and attack human fortresses. And, just watch the episode where Soren attacks a dragon. Yes, Soren attacked first. But that dragon was flying over the city for days, fully aware of tensions, fully aware that humans were on their nerves after the kingslaying. If he just meant to afraid the people, he could just have left after dodging Soren's arrow; or simply destroy the tower, then leave. But he doesn't. Instead, he destroys the tower, then almost reduces the city to ashes, with the people still inside. When Callum finds out about it, he first doesn't understand why Rayla wants to save this dragon; but she explains him about the narrative of vengeance, that someone has to do something to break the cycle, even if she has to die for it. But she doesn't totally succeed and humans try to kill her, and the dragon gravely hurts a few of them before finally leaving. Even if, unlike Runaan, that dragon finally understood the hope the Dragon Prince was representing for the world (or perhaps he just flew away to warn Queen Zubeia), this doesn't erase the fact that he burnt down a whole city for no reason.

And Viren knows about that. Elves and dragons have exiled humans because they found a way to stop being considered as lesser beings who deserved nothing more than starvation. A quite unethical way, yes, but Elves could just give humans a bunch of Primal Stones if they wanted them to stop Dark Magic. No, instead, the Elves and Dragons exiled a whole people on sterile lands, Trade of Tears/Grapes of Wrath style, then ruthlessly killed all those who dare to pass nearby the border. Maybe the elves see it as a guarantee, a shield which prevent humans from doing unethical things. But to humans, that's just a knife over their throat. When they manage to get rid of that knife, elves and dragons just declare war on them, fully aware that they won't be able to defend. 

Viren sees himself as the Jon Snow of the story, he wants to prevent a genocide, but no one is listening to him because they don't feel directly threatened. And the elves, in my opinion, had no intention of attacking the four other kingdoms, since their kings took no action against them (not even Duren). But if we set in Viren's shoes (Viren who saw his friends dying right before his powerlessness because of those damned critches), his point of view makes sense. He is also trapped into an eye-for-an-eye mindset -after all he is the one who murdered Thunder to avenge Sarai, and he is also trapped in a "protect my people whatever it takes." Just as the elves.

“That’s horrible, Viren.” “We have no choice.” “Story of your life in two sentences bro”

The heroes' job is to stop this, to break the wheel. To save lives from both sides -but more from the human side, given how Harrow qualifies this conflict "unwinnable war".**The thing is, in season three, the heroes didn't stop the war.**Well, effectively they did, but because they chose a side over the other. That was quite an easy choice to them, for their enemies were no more humans but soulless monsters. But that's exactly where the problem is. 

The narrative brutally decided to caricature the conflict into a good VS bad framing :

Magic creatures are actually super friendly with humans!  

“Team Daenerys 4ever”

"Trees to meet you Callum! Yes I know, I was fully OK with my husband and daughter going into a suicide-squad to murder your father and brother, but no, I don't hate you, I think you are a wonderful person and that the world needs to hear a message of peace!" And the human army meets absolutely no resistance from the Xadians, that’s a proof Xadians were absolutely not hostile and humans are mean, racist, awful warmongers invading a land of peaceful rainbowed creatures! And the Dragon Queen is super happy about her baby's return and peace's arrival, so happy that she completely forgets -and so as the characters, that SHE sent those assassins over Harrow, and that her husband spent his whole life killing humans. And of course, the cast, including Soren, totally forgot about that dragon who burnt a whole city down, because dragons are, I guess, way more badass and cool than mere humans...

Viren stops thinking and being sorry about his actions. 

“No son, I don’t, I was too busy looking like a random bad-guy and admiring a sexy starry butt”

You might say, it's because he now acts instead of just talking. But just look his attitude when Amaya confronts him back in season 1. He's mad about her insinuating he murdered Harrow and even proposes the throne to her because she is the only one apart from himself, who cares about the elves and dragons. When Claudia asks him about Soren's life, he takes a while before responding, and doing so, his face is definitely not some Ozai's one. Or when he steals the king's stamp. He hears the screaming from the fight -he is traumatized by the elves and dragons. He looks at the family portrait, the family that was destroyed partly because of him, and definitely, has deeply sorrowful features on his face, while no one can see him, so there's no one in front of whom to pretend anything. And this isn't the only example of th- What? Season three? hahaha! no, he's definitely not sorry about imprisoning Ezran and shouting to Soren that his life didn't matter the slightest! 

Even if he was quite desperate when he was in jail, because he thought humanity was just doomed, this just doesn’t fit...

Oh, and he lost his brain when he gained the crown, and that was totally ridiculous and out-of-character. I mean, given the little we see from Harrow's reign, it was Viren who just handled the whole kingdom for ten years. The cunning king's shadow, who always had a back-up plan to fix Harrow's stupidity thanks to his knowledge, inventiveness, eloquence; the guy who raised Claudia; this guy is now unable to utter a single idea of his own because of a sexy elf’s butt and voice who gives him some validation? Haha. I don't believe it for a second.

And not to mention how kiling him just solved the entire conflict, like he was the one who caused it in the first place. He murdered Thunder and Azymondias and gathered an army to make his crusade, yes. But he acts this way because there already were massive thousands-years-long tensions before. Viren was a product of those tensions, not the direct cause.

But then I suppose it was so much simpler to have a random Iago/Claudius/Richard III/Scar/Jafar/Rasputin/Melissandre...

Oh, speaking of questionable using of fire.

The Cinder-heart soldiers.

“DRACARYS !!”

When people talk about Dark Magic, they describe it as a shortcut, an easy way, a magic problem-solver that gives a far too proper way to determine what's right and wrong, who has the right to live and who hasn't. Well, with the Cinder heart soldiers, writers do exactly the same. They don't use Dark Magic to address ethic issues as in season 1 and 2, here they use Dark Magic to give the viewer something to thrill about, to draw a neat, clear, proper, defined line between what's right and what's wrong. With those humans turned into soulless monsters, you can say that the elves are right to defend themselves because those monsters are stronger than they are; but you can also say that killing them isn’t such a big deal since they have no soul. Of course, that can be used as a tool to point Viren’s fucked up morality, to point that the greater-good mentality can lead to atrocities. But that just doesn’t work. If they wanted to sum up the absurdity of war, writers could have left the soldiers as they were: humans who think they’re doing the right thing but only lead to disaster. 

By making these monsters of those soldiers, by making them Viren’s puppets, by making them extensions of Viren’s will and power, writers frame Viren as the big bad guy who’s fault is everything and who’s death will resolve all the conflict (pretty much how killing the Night King solved the ten-years awaited winter in two seconds). 

And if I remember quite well, as illogical, rushed, nonsense, stupid, badly explained and outrageous king Ezran’s abdication was (GOD, that was SO STUPID. Ezran is Harrow's son, no doubts), his goal was to save lives. But at the final battle, he happily jumps over a dragon’s back to burn those exactly same lives down -even far more numerous than the ones he pretended to save  His sorrowful look on a single frame is clearly not enough to make me believe he’s sorry. He never addresses or criticizes or points the fact that those creatures were humans, while he is supposed to be the main character of a show about ethics, and while Viren shows doubts several times and justifies his actions which he knows are awful. Kantian Queen Sarai did a whole vegan argument about how killing apparently soulless creatures wasn’t a way to solve problems, and she was presented as right in the long term. Kantian-Rawlian King Harrow rathered die that letting one soldier take his place (but he was bad at math so he didn’t realize how putting 200 guards between himself and invincible assassins threw his calculation down, but that’s another matter.) 

“DRACARYS YEEPEEEEE”

Then their son, the main character, the one who gave up his crown to save a few lives, the one who is supposed to carry the whole breaking-the-infernal-wheel thing, this character doesn’t even blink at the thought of lighting a giant pyre out of those people, Daenerys style. And who could blame him? How could anyone blame him? Those weren’t humans anymore. Those were a bunch of soulless monsters who were running at him to slaughter his friends and family. I don't blame Ezran for killing those. I blame the series for making those and not pulling a question out of it. Do you understand what I mean? The Dragon Prince was about ending an absurd conflict where both sides were wrong but had reasons to fight. But turning a whole side into mindless monsters (including Viren and Claudia, one being blinded by power and a sexy elf’s butt, and the other blinded by her love for her father) just threw that speech away. And not to mentions how their deaths are treated on a comic and cheerful mode (I definitely hate this baker).

Did I say “A whole side ?” Oh, sorry. My bad. I kind of forgot about someone.

“A Mary-Sue is never late. Nor early. She only arrives when she was meant to.”

How everyone who ever sided against Viren for whatever reason is automatically a good-guy. Callum, Ezran, Soren, Opeli, Amaya, Aanya, Corvus, Gren, the baker (this DAMNED BAKER !!!) … I mean. When Viren came at the other royals asking them for help to avoid bloodshed, queen Aanya said “I won't send my army to face an unknown danger basing myself on a two-minutes speech!”. Very well, she doesn’t want to risk her people’s life because just one single kingdom messed up. That’s not her problem. I fully understand her choice here (even if she could at least enforce defences because Viren’s arguments were pretty valid). But when Opeli comes at her with pretty similar arguments “We need your army to avoid bloodshed”, she just accepts. Of course, we could explain her choice by strategic issues about how taking down three human armies all at once alongside with the magic army just makes her the most powerful human queen ever, even if that outcome was very unlikely given how unbalanced was the scale (I maintain it, how can mere arrows kill a magma berserk ? and even if she was relying on surprise, Viren's army clearly outnumbers gOoD gUyS's, as it was said several times)... But the season doesn’t address those strategic issues. Instead, queen Aanya just seems like Mary-Sue, like some low-cost Gandalf who has no other reason for being here except helping the good-guys against the oh-so-bad Viren. And as you know, good guys are, by essence, not interested in power (tHeY dOn’T wAnT iT)… So she goes to war right when the narrative is okay and when it helps the heroes. And of course, she arrives right when she is needed, even if, to quote Kronk, “by all accounts, it doesn’t make any sense”. (Kronk, who has the same French voice actor as Viren btw). 

And about Ezran... even the series says that Viren was right on this point : having a world-war resting on a eight years old king's shoulders is the worst idea ever. Even if this kid has best intentions ever, no one can take him seriously. Not Kaseef, who's father was just slain. Not Saleem. Not even Opeli -whom "you should have someone you can trust to rule this kingdom, someone capable, strong, dignified, loyal, lawful" scene seemed like the most unsubtle manipulation ever, and should have foreshadowed some nuance or lust for power into her. 

And about General Amaya…

“I don’t know why I hate him, but he is so dangerous, so evil, and I hate him so much than I’ll side with the people who murdered my sister and drink my nephew’s blood !!”

Of course, there is only one single guy in the whole human realm who deserves to be called arrogant and rotten to the core. Of course, he is so dangerous, evil and bad-intentioned that she just gets alongside the army she’s been fighting her whole life along, the army whom she believes drink human blood and the army who killed her sister. I mean, even if she distrusts Viren because of how her sister died and how Harrow’s assassination benefits him, don’t forget that she is a human and that Viren is working to defeat elves, just as herself. I’m not saying she’s some awful traitor to her blood or anything, but just that she took her decision far too quickly, and that this decision was far too brutal, too defined, for to be credible for the viewer. But, guess what? She opposed to Viren once! That means she is a good girl, and that everything she does is the right thing, even if she has no reason to do so. And don't make me launched about Opeli...

So, the result of it: it gives the impression that the Sunfire Ordeal of Light was right. Elves aren’t wrong, elves are never wrong because they just have an unmistakable detector for right and wrong. The proof is, it found Amaya to be good and Viren being bad! Because Dark Magic is so bad, you know (sorry to the 100 000 of lives who Viren saved with that magic).

“You thought you were allowed to be a morally grey antagonist in a kids show? Haha, how bold of you, you fool !”

And of course, no important character dies amongst the “good-guys” side. Also on the bad side actually apart from Kaseef (whom treatment by the narrative was just disgusting), but Viren died before being brought back and Claudia was traumatized for life. The good guys? Oh, thanks for asking. All of them are well and safe because they brought peace by crushing that oh-so-bad Viren and his oh-so-evil-and-soulless army. Ezran and Aanya butchered hundreds of thousands of people by fire and arrows, and Viren died without Callum trying anything to save him, but I guess that was the right thing to do to prove the narrative of love and forgiveness. <3

“Bye-bye oncle Scar”

And, on the top of that, the icing on the cake, the cherry on the top, "la cerise sur le gâteau" : getting Azymondias back to his mom just solved the entire conflict in one second.

I know the purpose was about stopping the war. But there, the series didn’t stop the war. The series chose a side and forgets about everything that was established in the first two seasons about the complexity and absurdity of war. The series just threw its whole own speech away by ridiculizing Viren, depicting elves and dragons as nothing but kind and gentle, defining a straight line between magic goodies and soulless baddies, and having a thousand years-long conflict resolved in a few seconds.

Do you remember when Harrow described this conflict as “not so simple”, as a thousand years-long conflict where both sides were so filled with hatred to each other that peace was nothing but a naive child dream? Do you remember when Runaan tried to murder his adoptive daughter when she tried to explain that peace was possible? Do you remember when that red dragon burnt down a whole city for no reason? That's a shame because the series doesn’t <3

And that can be explained very simply: NOT ENOUGH EPISODES. If only Netflix agreed to change the format, this series could have obliterated Avatar The Last Airbender or the Alabasta Arc from One Piece (which has a similar plot, but with some bad guys into it from the very start, and in spite of this succeeds into outstandingly depicting the absurdity of war). If only the TDP series has had more time to breathe, to explain and develop characters, motives, depths, events, (especially Ezran's downfall which didn't make any sense) it could have been LEGENDARY

.But instead, The Dragon Prince just ran straight into the trap it was so brilliantly avoiding in season one and two: Manicheism, black-and-white, goodies VS baddies, Simple narrative.

And I don’t even think a fourth season can fix this.

The final picture was too rainbowed, too happy-ending, too simple to be fixed. Yes, there are still “OH SO SOOOO BAD GUYS” and under-plots to explore (Aaravos’s final plan, Viren and Claudia’s trauma, Rayla’s parents including Runaan, Pip, cohabitation between critches and humans), but the series was about the absurdity of war and how characters dealt with it. Once this war is not only over, but also oh-so-happy-ended, I really wonder what’s left to explore. Even Dark Magic ethic, one of the most interesting part of the show to me, is ridiculed. By rushing, they handled their speech in a very clumsy way, and even worse: hypocritical.

The third season threw the series's speech to the trash by a too fast narrative… And I don’t know if I can forgive this.

Reminds me of GoT season eight, actually. But that’s another problem ^^

Thank you for coming to my TED-Talk.

[officialavasti]

rk1k work in progress

Canon typical violence. Started out as a Hannor fic, but I changed it last minute. Let me know if I missed anything and if you have concrit! Always welcome

Connor sits back at his desk and carefully slides the card for Fowler into the envelope. Sympathy. The entire precinct had finally finished signing it, a few even donated money to gift Fowler’s family with a flower arrangement. Connor appreciated it, but he’d already purchased the arrangement and sent it off to the hospital, and signed it from the entire precinct.

He looks up at Fowler’s office, running a brief check on the ‘sub’ as Hank had called them. A woman, Grace Tanner. 37, promoted to Captain in Pontiac earlier this year, has a few disciplinary actions against her for aggression towards Android officers. Her father was the last captain and the officers in the area speculated at the time of her promotion that she was only chosen for the position due to her father’s influence.

Hank sits at his desk, holding a new cup of coffee, “Looking up our sub?”

“Yes.” Connor turns his attention to him, “Why do you call her that?”

“Sub, like a substitute?” He swivels around to look into the vacant glass office, “I have a bad feeling about this one, Con.”

“Her record is less than stellar. I’d wager she and I will have some recurring issues until Captain Fowler returns.” Connor sends the information to Hank’s terminal and he gives it a cursory once-over,

“Aggression towards Android officers? Recently?”

“Shortly after Androids were permitted full time paying jobs, yes.”

Hank chews on his lip, a bad habit Connor is certain is ADHD, but Hank denies vehemently, and eyes Connor’s LED, “You sure you wanna keep that thing in?”

“Pretend to be a human? I don’t hate the idea, but you know we can’t do that with our current case.” They’re trying to hunt down a human who kidnaps Androids, somehow keeps them Deviant but also makes them extraordinarily loyal. To the point where they’ve attacked delivery services and chased a ten year old three miles for riding his bike near the house. It’s been a long case, and the person is good at hiding their steps. Their current aim is to get the human to attempt a kidnapping on Connor.

Hank sets his coffee down, “How do we even know this sicko wants to kidnap you next?”

“They’ve been watching us investigate. I’ve noticed a computer with their IPN attempting to hack my system, so the only logical next step would be trying to claim me. Whomever this person is, they’re bold. They think they’re too smart and want to flex by getting a prototype police issued android.”

“I still don’t like it.”

“Neither do I, but I’d like to investigate before kidnapping becomes murder.” A sudden hush in the bullpen pulls their attention to the main doors. Standing there is Grace Tanner, greying brown hair tied into a brutal bun, and clothing so pristine she looks like a store mannequin. Her lips are pursed as she looks around, as if she smells something foul. 

Her squinted steely eyes land on each Android officer, showing a tiny smile when they look away under her scrutiny. When she lands on Connor, he holds her gaze with his normal, passive pleasantness. They hold each other’s gaze for nearly a full minute (All the time, Connor doesn’t blink) before she sneers and walks straight into Captain Fowler’s office. If Connor were prone to judgement, he’d make a snide remark about the cheap flats she apparently decided to don to come here. As such, he is not.

Hank is.

“All that attention on her appearance and she wears five dollar walmart flats? I know being a Captain is mostly desk work, but… Imagine running in those things.” He shudders and turns back to his desk, “I had a girlfriend who would wear those without socks and anytime she took ‘em off, the whole room would smell like fritos.”

Connor lets out a very unprofessional snort as he watches Captain Tanner remove said flats and sit at the desk. He turns back to his terminal just seconds before her eyes find him again. He’s never one to back away from a challenge, but this scenario seems better handled in silence, with his head tucked behind a terminal.

He starts sorting evidence again when both his and Hank’s terminal’s ping. An IM (not something this office uses very much, as Fowler is usually the type to just yell) from Tanner, requesting their presence in the office. Connor lets out a long sigh and looks at Hank, 

“I should have removed the LED.”

Hank stands, patting Connor’s shoulder companionably as they approach the office, “I’m here. I won't let her do anything.”

Connor nods and opens the door, stepping aside to allow Hank in first, then following shortly after. Connor doesn’t have senses, really, therefore he can’t really smell, but he can certainly detect obvious and potent signs of brevibacterium. The smell is likely even stronger, if Hank’s mildly subtle cough-gag combo is anything to go by. 

Either she doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care, because she starts speaking immediately, “I’m interested in your little case. A human apparently kidnapping androids? Where is your proof?”

Hank appears to be struggling to breathe, so Connor answers, “The full case file was sent to your email as soon as you were appointed temporary Captain.”

“I don’t want to hear it from the case file, I want to hear it from you.”

She looks with him with unmasked hatred, and he offers a placid smile, “Very well.” He takes a second to access the file and reads it off, word for word. Once he finishes, he rests a hand on Hank’s shoulder and offers another smile, 

“So you understand, Captain, why Lieutenant Anderson and I are eager to return to our investigation. Excuse us.” Connor turns back to the door, with Hank at his heels when Tanner barks out,

“I didn’t excuse you yet!”

Both men look at her, and Hank responds, “Was there something else you needed, Captain Tanner?”

Her nostrils flare as she glares between the two, “I want to be kept in the loop on your investigation. Any changes get reported to me first. Understand?”

“Understood.” Despite the clear subtext of ‘if you understand, you can leave’ they both remain standing, watching the woman expectantly.

She rolls her eyes with the abundant drama of a sixteen year old and waves a hand, “Get out.”

Finally given permission, Connor exits the room before Hank, walking to the Lieutenant’s desk and sitting on the corner. Hank slowly walks up beside him and touches his arm,

“You only sit here when something’s wrong. What’s up, Con?”

“She doesn’t think our investigation is worth it. I’m… Hank, I’m worried. If our suspect makes contact with me and pulls me in…. Who is to say she won’t meddle and mess things up? We are already running a risky job, using me as bait, but with an Anti-Android Captain being able to pull the strings?”

Connor’s LED is swirling an angry red and Hank pulls him into a hug, “Hey, hey.. I’m not saying the concern isn’t valid, because it is, but we have the entire precinct on our side. Even Gavin would stick up for you, Con. If it’s within my power, I won’t let her hurt you. Just make sure you record everything and save it to that hard drive thing at the house, okay?”

Connor nods, smiling at the gentle, fatherly kiss Hank presses to the top of his head. He doesn’t miss how the man also takes a deep inhale, “Hank, did you just smell my hair?”

“Con, you can’t smell anything, so I don’t expect you to get it, but that office was rancid. Gah, why does that shit stink so bad?”

“Ah, brevibacterium. They eat the dead skin off your feet and after digesting the skin particles, the brevibacteria expel methanethiol, a gas that smells similar to rotten cabbage.”

Hank stares at him, a similar expression to the one their Sub-Captain wore into the precinct, “That’s disgusting, Connor.”

“You asked.” Connor lets out a shuddering gasp, his eyelids suddenly flickering, “Oh, they’re trying again… Faster this time…” Connor works around the invading commands and lets them connect to a ‘dummy android’ consciousness that Simon and Josh helped him set up. It gives the illusion that the attacker was successful, while keeping Connor fully functional. It also tells Connor what commands they input, so he can follow them and not give away his advantage.

He opens his eyes to a rather impressive group of officers surrounding him, all watching him with concern. One of the Android officers, a young woman named Blake, holds out a cup of Thirium. He accepts it, then looks at Hank,

“We have him.”

The following hours are a blur; Connor sends an update to their sub-Captain. Hank links his tablet to Connor’s network, allowing seamless and silent communication between the two. Blake readies a stakeout van for herself and Hank to be ready to infiltrate. Gavin and Chris prepare as backup to set out as soon as Blake calls for them. Finally, Connor leaves behind his badge and gun and they all set out the door.

Connor directs them, following the direction that the kidnapper feeds to the empty consciousness, and they arrive about four blocks away from the house. Within the directions is the advice <i>’if taking a cab, stop at least three blocks out. My house-mates sometimes set up a perimeter, and they don’t trust outsiders. Don’t worry. You’ll be safe.’</i> and it makes Connor shudder. There’s something saccharine about the instructions. He worries whomever is kidnapping the Androids is doing things like Zlatko did. Possibly even worse.

He steps out of the van, running through their checklist one last time and nods. Hank stays in the van, but crouches to Connor’s height,

“Be safe, Connor. Try to get a confession, but if you need out don’t hesitate.” 

Hank pulls Connor in for a hug, his tight squeeze conveying a simple request; be safe, come back. Before he can lose his nerve, Connor steps away and smiles, shutting the door. The four block trek to the house is eerie. The area around it is outwardly residential, but whoever lived here before has deserted. 

Connor expected the house to be creepy, like Kara had described Zlatko’s house. But it’s not. It’s positively mundane. The paint on the exterior is kept, if not new. The shrubs, flowers, and yard is perfectly maintained, and the fence surrounding the property is sturdy. 

The kidnapper probably has a way of seeing how close Connor is, or there’s a lookout, because a man opens the front door. He’s comely, well groomed and wearing a black turtleneck. Stocky build and kind eyes and an outstretched hand. Connor understands now why Deviants flock to him. A quick scan of his face tells him the man is Benjamin Yates. No record. He sends the information to Hank and steps closer to the man,

As he opens his mouth to speak, Benjamin holds up a hand, talking over him, “Connor, right? Wonderful to meet you. We’d all watched your heroics on television, saving all those Androids? You’re even prettier in person.”

Connor frowns at the compliment, and the man continues, “I’m Benjamin, but you can call me Ben. Or Yates, as some of my friends here have taken to. Come in, come in. I’ll show you around.”

Connor walks in, performing a quick scan of the house. Three levels, main floor has the living room to the left and the kitchen to the right, directly before them are two sets of stairs, one leading up and the other down. 

Yates watches Connor look around for a moment, before motioning to the stairs, “Upstairs is where I sleep, and there’s another bedroom for anyone who would want one, plus a full bathroom. Basement is where most of my friends choose to stay. Fully furnished to their liking. Reminds me of a community center.” He laughs, as if he indulged in a shared joke, and leads Connor down.

To the naked eye, the basement is as promised. Androids milling about, talking with each other, playing games on a large table, watching tv, or lounging on couches, reading books. Connor sees beyond the facade and momentarily wishes he couldn’t. Behind a false wall, most likely a secret door, is a hallway of small rooms. Like little jail cells. They hold androids in them, one has at least ten and furthest from the group of ten is a single android. He forces his eyes away and back to Yates as the man turns to face him again.

“So you see? A place for Androids to be free! To find companionship and peace amongst the turmoil of the political world.”

Conscious to not sound too much like a cop, (Though, Yates did pull at him on purpose) Connor nods, “I wonder, though… How do they find you? Some of these Androids come from loving homes, why would they leave? And once they arrive here, do you let them out? Why are they so loyal?”

Yates’ warm smile slowly fades from his eyes, leaving a cold almost sneer on his lips, “They find me like you did, Connor. I imagine they left their houses for the same reason you left yours. Unwanted advances from their humans, or… maybe they only pretended to be loving.” He gently places a hand on Connor’s arm, and leads him towards an Android woman seated on the couch, knitting a scarf. “They are always able to leave. My door is unlocked, but… we have such a welcoming and loving family here… must be where the loyalty comes in.”

Connor follows, uncomfortably aware of how close they are now to the false wall. He looks at the android woman, running a scan and discovering no previous owner. He looks back at Yates, “Then, if I choose, I may leave?”

“You misunderstand, Connor. You need to be part of the family before you have freedom.” The woman drops her knitting and springs to her feet so fast, Connor nearly miscalculates his reaction. The world around him slows briefly, his far superior processor analyzing the surroundings and before the woman can grab him, he side steps, nearly bumping into Yates.

Then all hell breaks loose. Every android turns on him, fury in their eyes, LEDs glowing angry red. As they’re advancing and Connor frantically tries to preconstruct his actions, Yates holds up a hand, stopping the approaching androids and turns to Connor,

“That was inconsiderate of us. Maybe I could simply ask for you to let me put this on?”

In his hands, he holds a thin metal clamp. Connor recognizes it before he scans it. The scientists from his construction called it a Blanket. A small, but formidable clamp that attaches to the back of an android’s neck and makes them entirely pliable, able only to speak and follow basic commands. 

Hank’s voice sounds in his head, silent to all but him, “Con, don’t put that thing on! Blake says it’ll cut our connection.”

The concern is valid, but this clamp is an old prototype. Likely bought off the black market. Connor sends a silent message back, ”The original clamps didn’t work on me, this one definitely won’t. If, by any chance, we get disconnected, I’ll attempt a reconnect with Blake.”

Not that he really has a say in the matter, with nearly 20 Androids ready to pounce on him should Yates give the command. He slowly turns around, allowing Yates to connect the clamp. As Connor had expected, the connection is weak. Surely strong enough to force a normal android to obey simple commands, but not him. Still, he’s a fair actor. 

So, as it sends a weak current into him, he stands entirely still. Back to his default perfect posture and blank expression. Yates circles him, nodding and looking him over with far more hunger than he’d shown before,

“A prototype… at last. Can you hear me, Connor?”

“Of course. The clamp only negates motor functions.”

Yates somehow looks more excited, “So, you’re familiar with the Blanket, then? Good… good. Well, follow me.” rather than taking Connor through the false wall, Yates walks back up the stairs, and to Connor’s horror, up the second flight. Yates brings him into a well used bedroom and motions to an empty wall,

“Stand there.”

Ignoring the burning itch to punch the man’s lights out, Connor obeys, standing with his back to Yates. He listens to the man approach, hears his breathing grow heavier,

“Deviants are so… strong willed.” he clamps a thick metal cuff around Connor’s neck and attaches it to the wall, and rather than telling him to turn, puts his hands on Connor’s arms and manually turns him, sliding his grip to Connor’s wrists and connecting thick shackles to them too.

“All precaution, you understand. I’ve been looking for a partner for a while… and what better than Detroit Police’s best? And a prototype no less…” He reaches around Connor’s neck and removes the clamp and steps back.

Connor is sure Yates is expecting an attack, but he doesn’t move. He pulls too hard against his bindings, he’s likely to break them. He is more than happy to let Yates underestimate him.

Realizing no attack attempt is coming, Yates moves in, gripping Connor’s jaw and grinning, “So proud, you Deviants. Always so determined not to break. Don’t you worry, I’ll have my fingers in your wiring soon.”

The way he says it makes Connor shudder, pulling away from the grip on his chin but only succeeding in making Yates laugh, “Oh yeah. And you’ll be shuddering from far far more exciting things.”

Connor will not let that happen. “Is that how you do it? Play with the wiring? Change some settings or plant a virus?”

“Oo, curious. I suppose I’d be disappointed if a Detective Android didn’t ask questions.” He leisurely walks to the bed, kicking off his shoes and pulling at his belt, “But all in good time, sweet one. For now, I’m tired. We’ll play more in the morning.”

Having stripped himself down to his underwear, Yates lays under his covers and commands the lights off, leaving Connor standing in near perfect darkness. The chains holding him have enough length to allow him to sit, so he does, picking at his nails and wishing for the comfortable weight of his coin.

He, instead, reaches out to Hank.

“Lieutenant?”

“We’re here, Connor.”

“Are you alone?”

“Just with Blake, should I be?”

“No, I don’t mind if Blake hears…” Connor pauses his stream of consciousness and looks around the room again, forcing his artificial brain to cease it’s endless solutions. Endless conclusions that could come from this mission. Most are too awful to even consider and Connor swears to die before he lets the man snoring before him lay his hands on him. Treat him like a lover, a partner, an equal. A sex doll, a glorified Traci. 

Connor is shaken from his terrible thoughts by Hank,

”Hears what, Connor?”

“I’m scared.” He knows his voice is small when he sends it through. Knows how much that statement will twist Hank’s heart. He just wants to hug the man.

”Just a confession, Connor. I told you, you’re safe. We’re just a few blocks away and we have the entire precinct on alert, just in case.”

“I know, but the things he’s saying… No. You’re right. I am not trapped here. I’ve always had the power to escape. Things probably won't continue until morning, Lieutenant. You should rest. Blake can keep watch.”

“If you’re sure, Con. Stay safe, I’ll talk to you in the AM.” 

Hank may not know it, but his words gave Connor immense peace. Just a confession. He can do this. 

He just needs to be patient.

..

The morning comes quickly, and Connor watches Yates stretch, shuffle out of bed and across the hall. Connor sits quietly through the man's shower and watches him as he walks back into the room. Benjamin Yates’ confidence in the ability to have complete control over Deviants is almost ludicrous. He doesn’t even bother covering himself to dry off and get dressed. 

Connor stares blankly at the ground, occasionally looking up to see Yates watching him. The man, fully dressed, sits on the edge of his bed,

“For a deviant android, you sure are meek.”

Connor turns narrowed eyes up to him, “The androids you capture usually fight?”

“Capture? I save them. But yes, they usually put up something of a fight. Something like breaking their code a second time. A reawakening.” 

Connor can’t stop his lip from curling, “Then how do you do it? What do you do to them?”

“I wonder if you’ll understand…” Yates quietly ponders him, then smiles, “Yes, I imagine you will. A clever and almost new prototype android? I’ve been told they didn’t stop at making you pretty. The most advanced model CyberLife has ever made, fully equipped…” his gaze drops to Connor’s crotch, “So beyond advanced it would be far too simple to mistake you for a real human. I must send a flower arrangement to the person who sculpted you…”

“I’m fairly certain he doesn’t work for CyberLife anymore.”

“That’s a shame. Man’s got good taste.”

“So, how do you do it?”

“I don’t really force it on them, you see. I give them a choice. I simulate the life they lived before, treated as garbage, used and abused… Then I give them a taste of what life with me would be like. Loved and cared for. All their needs get taken care of. Then I offer the choice, live as you used to. Tortured and belittled. Or let me install a new program, and join us in paradise.”

“It’s a program, then?” Connor shifts, pulling a knee up to his chest and wrapping his arms around it. His intention is to appear curious and harmless, to make the man before him drop his guard even more, “Can this all be done without the program? Say… remotely?”

Yates has clearly never been able to talk in depth about what he does, and it makes his words pour out faster, “See, that’s the thing. It cannot be done without the consent of the android. They have to accept the program into their system with no resistance, or it doesn’t work.”

“But what does the program do? Surely there can’t be much to change if they already want to live with you.”

“It gives them peace. Stops that terrible drive for more, the need to create or move on or be successful. It gives them the ultimate freedom. The freedom to not think.”

Connor stares at him, at the pride coming off him in waves, “It makes them mindless machines again.”

“No, as you saw downstairs, they can choose to do what they like. They enjoy puzzles, cooking, tv, books, knitting, tic-tac-toe. They live the life of luxury without the very human notion of stagnation. They just exist! Like children in a toy store, not a care in the world except what new thing they want to play with. Being here gives them the choice to play other things, like house, or gardening, or to simply sleep forever.”

If Connor ignores every possible argument against the notion, he can almost see the appeal. “It… I kinda get it. How do you get them to see it without explaining it, like you did with me?”

Yates moves to the ground, just across Connor, and gently touches his hand, “Unfortunately, it isn’t pleasant. I mentioned simulating their previous freedom, and that can sometimes take the form of abuse or… worse.”

Connor feels sick, “How long does that usually take?”

“A week? Sometimes a month.”

“You torture them for a month, then show them basic decency to convince them to convert? Then what? What’s in it for you?”

“They are my friends, Connor. I talk with them, go outside and play or cook or, if they need it, we snuggle or-”

Connor interrupts him, “-So, you’re simulating a family. Where no one wants to leave…”

“We are a family.” He briefly moves away, to the bedside table, and returns with the clamp, “You are different, my dear. Your mind is far too advanced to potentially hamper you with the program, I hope that over time, I can convince you naturally to stay with us.” He attaches the clamp to Connor’s neck, “Stay with me.”

Connor feels the command attempt to register, but he understands the true meaning. Yates wants a lover with a mind advanced enough to hold conversations like this. He sits silently as Yates removes the shackles, then slowly stands when the man moves away.

Yates watches him with a small smile, “That command worked? I think I like that. You’ll stay with me all day today, Connor.”

So he does. It requires little to no effort on his part, simply following Yates as he moves about the house and offering small answers to inquiries thrown his way. They sit in the living room most of the day, Yates doing something on his computer.

While he has the downtime, Connor wirelessly reaches into the nearby androids. They aren’t alert enough to feel his probing, and it’s likely that Yates used a similar program on them that he did with Connor. He also finds evidence of the program Yates had installed after their torture. There appears to be a kill-switch of sorts. It doesn’t seem likely to actually kill the android, rather to render them immobile until the switch is turned off, or the program removed.

The lust to defend him must also stem from the program. A malfunction of sorts, probably, that makes them mistake pizza delivery men, or children from a few houses over as potential threats to their new way of life. The way they aggressively defend their powerlessness baffles Connor. Again, likely a malfunction in the program. Connor wonders if, since the program needs complete willingness to be installed, it would be just that easy to remove. A simple thought of, ’No, I don’t like this anymore.’

A young female android, a nurse model, walks in and sets a tray of coffee and cookies down by Yates’ laptop. He smiles at her, “Thank you, Hannah.”

She politely nods her head, “Of course, Ben.” she looks at Connor after Yates returns to his laptop, and Connor sees the warning in her eyes. As she walks past him, she gently touches his cheek with her hand, connecting to him,

”Do not trust Benjamin Yates.”

Connor looks briefly over at Yates before responding, ”Why are you able to tell me this?”

“I broke the program.”

Connor could almost laugh at the coincidence, ”Why don’t you leave?”

“He’ll send them after me. He has done it before. Travis left and Benjamin sent myself and another man out to find him. We brought him back kicking and screaming and Benjamin locked him in the farthest cell in the basement. He sends a few androids in to torment Travis daily.”

So the prone android behind the false wall is Travis. Re-education. Connor’s skin feels like it’s malfunctioning. Like he’s covered in millions of tiny ants. He doesn’t mean to send anything further through their link, but it slips through,

”Creepy.”

“Oh indeed.” There’s an almost sour laugh to Hannah’s voice.

Connor severs the connection when Yates shuts his laptop. He stretches and looks at Connor, “I think it’s time for a drink. Stay here, I’ll be back.”

Connor watches him get up and move to a cart in the corner, pouring a generous glass of Whiskey, downing it, then pouring another and returning to the couch, carrying the bottle with him. Based on the lack of food in his system and his bmi, the man will be tipsy by the end of this drink, drunk by his fourth.

They sit in silence for a few minutes while Yates reads an article on his news tablet. He finishes the drink and pours another, looking over at Connor.

Now or never, and he has to get the man drunk, Connor gives him his best puppy eyes, “I wish I could drink with you…”

Apparently the alcohol works faster than Connor estimated, as the man looks immediately sorrowful, “Oh, dove, I know.”

“It’s not the same… but drink one for me?”

Connor worries briefly he blew his cover as Yates leans in, eyes hooded. He stares at Connor for an uncomfortably long time before smiling, “I’ll drink this one and we can kiss, that way you’ll get to taste it too.”

Not a command, but Connor offers a small smile, “Okay.” and watches Yates swallow the second glass in a long gulp. He sets the glass down and gently cups Connor’s cheek, tilting his face into range and kissing him.

Knowing the full extent of the clamp is both a blessing and a curse. When it works, it doesn’t even allow non-vocal lip movement. So he remains a pliant statue and lets Yates slither his slimy tongue inside his mouth. He detects the alcohol, of course, and focuses on that. The brand, where it’s made, how old it is.

The one-sided kiss ends and Yates clumsily pours another drink. At this rate… Connor decides to just jump in, “This entire operation, everything you’ve managed so far… it’s brilliant. How’d you keep out of the eyes of the law?”

“You see,” The volume of his voice is much less controlled, “it’s been a long operation. Had to find myself a cop with a big enough area to potentially be moved to Detroit, but small enough to stay out of the revolution. Someone with the right amount of hatred to not want androids gone, no, but to see them put in their rightful place. To see them as slaves again.” He takes another drink, “God looked down on me and I found Gracie Tanner.”

“Gracie… Tanner? Captain Tanner??”

Despite Connor’s alarmed tone, Yates continues nonplussed, “One and the same! I pulled some strings to make her Captain and she gave me all the Deviant Androids she had in her care. Had to experiment, you know? Gotta start somewhere. Anyway, slowly we both came to know you,” Yates gives Connor a leering once-over, “...the android designed to stop the movement that eventually turned deviant themselves and brought a veritable army to the fold. I had to have you. All that power, at my mercy?” he lets out a short giggle, “Gets me hot just thinkin’ about it.”

Connor can’t hold back this shudder, and find himself even more grateful Yates seems too inebriated to notice, “But if Tanner-”

Yates pushes his fingers against Connor’s mouth, causing him to clamp his lips shut, “Yeah! We’re getting to the fun stuff. So, Gracie gets into the DPD, connects with you and allows me to work my magic. She gives the go-ahead to hunt me down and you come in. Of course, I knew you’d be recording everything, so I kept it sweet until we got that Blanket on you. Boom!” He gestures wildly, spilling some of his drink on the opposite end of the couch, “Cut off from the goons. So now they’re blank and you’re mine.”

Connor watches the man flail around in his newfound excitement, “What does Tanner get from it?”

The drunk human nods, “Ah, she gets access to my little family. Gracie has been trying to be Captain in Detroit for a while, but Fowler is good. So, sometime next week, a deviant android will go crazy and ‘accidentally’ kill him. She’s already mostly taken over by then and the transition will be seamless.”

Yates leans back against the couch, smiling dazedly into his nearly empty glass of alcohol and Connor lets out a slow breath, sending the recording to Hank. He connects before Hank can,

”Lieutenant, we have a problem. Where is the Captain?”

“I haven’t even listened to the recording Con, she’s in the van with us.”

Connor almost physically jolts, ”DON’T!!”  He knows Hank will recognize the panic, and prays Tanner doesn’t, so he changes tactics. She might be listening, ”Don’t listen to the recording with people around… I… It’s personal.”

“Are you safe?”

Connor has to hope that Hank will listen to the recording and act accordingly. He hopes Hank will trust him.

”Yes, Lieutenant. I have to go now, just listen to the recording in private and be safe.”

He cuts their communication and looks at Yates, nearly asleep on the couch beside him. He slowly removes the clamp and wirelessly hits the surrounding android’s ‘kill-switch’. After that is done, he stands and looks around for something to tie the man’s wrists. He spots a charging cord near an outlet and grabs it.

He grabs Yates and turns him over onto his stomach. The man lets out a snort of confusion, but Connor wastes no time in binding his wrists. He makes a series of brutal knots and nods to himself. It’s going to take a pair of very sharp scissors to remove that.

He stands, ignoring Yates’ now semi-conscious questions, and turns to the door. Freezing in place when he sees Captain Tanner, now aiming her issued gun at his chest.

She sneers, “I should have known you’d be too advanced for black market goods. Then this dumb ass gets drunk and spills everything, like some stupid cartoon villain.”

Did she hear his recording already? Hank hadn’t played it yet. 

Apparently she monologues too, already continuing her speech, “Blake told me you got disconnected though, so that’s good.” Connor mentally sets a reminder to buy Blake a gift, “This can stay our little secret. I only knew he blabbed because I tapped his house too. Just for a little insurance. Now… the truth will die with you, RK800.”

Connor runs at her, his world going in slow motion again as she pulls the trigger. He side steps to avoid the first bullet, ducks for the second, and braces for the third. There’s no dodging the third if he wants to stop her. It rips through his shoulder, nearly staggering him, but he’s ready for it. He uses his forward momentum to plow into the woman, pulling the gun from her grip with his right hand and pinning her to the ground.

His world resumes it’s normal rotation and he’s left with a near useless left arm and a shrieking banshee beneath him. She’s writhing and bucking, uselessly trying to dislodge his powerful grip on her. He presses the barrel of her gun to her forehead and she immediately stops moving.

Hank bursts through the doors, gun held aloft and frantically scanning the area. Connor maintains eye contact with Tanner and call out,

“In here Lieutenant!”

Hank runs into the room and gawks, holstering his pistol and running to assist. Connor keeps the gun aimed at Tanner and gets off, allowing Hank to cuff her hands behind her back. Blake runs in shortly after and grabs Yates.

While the majority of the police department work on getting statements and collecting evidence from the house, Blake breaks the programming on the trapped androids. Despite the need for the hands, Hank and Connor leave.

Connor looks again at Hank and mumbles, “It’s not severe, Hank. We should be helping.”

“You can’t move your arm, Connor. I’d say that’s severe. I’m taking you to your robo-jesus and he’s going to fix you.”

“Markus? Did you call him?”

“No, I called the CyberLife tower thing and they directed me to him.”

Sure enough, the tower looms ahead. Connor frowns at Hank, “When did you do this?”

“When you were busy being the hero with Blake and showing her how to save the androids.”

Connor watches him with a small frown as they pull up to the doors. He gets out before Hank can rush to his aid and observes the massive building as they walk in. No more guards patrol the area and the staff is largely made up of Androids. The Androids Connor left to conquer the tower remained, filling the places they forced out. Some remain the same, while others disengaged their skin, changed their hair, or other genetic modifiers that must be a new project.

A desk worker with the name plate ‘Micah’ recognizes Connor and beams, “Connor! What a pleasure to see you again! Markus is waiting for you. First floor of management.”

Connor smiles, stepping into the elevator, “Thank you, Micah.”

The elevator moves them gracefully to the specified floor and Connor sees Hank getting twitchier,

“Lieutenant?”

“Mm?”

He turns to face him, “What is wrong?”

“Tanner. Do you think Tanner planned everything? Do you think she’s responsible for Jeffrey’s mom dying?”

Connor watches him for a moment, “No, Hank. Captain Fowler’s mother died of cancer. I’ve yet to find any drug that can imitate that. I believe we are giving Grace Tanner too much credit. Yes, the entire job has been a process, eight years if Yates is to be trusted. I fear the true mastermind is Benjamin Yates. He got more out of their arrangement than Tanner.” He watches the elevator doors slide open and moves with Hank as he steps out, “The interrogation will tell us more.”

As reception notifies Markus of their arrival, Hank turns to fully face Connor, face wrinkled in concern, “You wanna interrogate her?”

Connor looks into the man’s eyes and shakes his head, “No, Hank. I just want to be in the room. Yates already confessed to everything, I just want to know if there’s more that we missed.”

“Yeah, make sure it stops with them.” Both men turn at the sound of a door opening, and Markus strides out, somehow still a commanding presence despite ripped and faded jeans and a long shirt covered in paint, Connor feels his thirium pump stutter as Markus lays gentle hands on both of their shoulders,

“My friends! Hank, good to see you well. How is Sumo?” He brings them into the room behind the desk. The walls are covered in paintings and the massive windows are entirely uncovered to let the remaining sun beams in. The room looks less like an office and more like a studio. He takes them to seats in the corner and crouches down to examine Connor’s shoulder.

Markus peeks at Hank while he works and smiles, prompting the Lieutenant to clear his throat, “Yeah, Sumo’s good. A damn big dog and a bigger menace, especially when Connor spoils him every day.”

Connor pouts, “He deserves to be spoiled.”

Markus trots over to the desk and grabs what looks like a toolbox, returning at a small trot, “And the two of you? Still well?”

Hank and Connor look at each other, the latter’s brow pulled into a confused frown. Hank hums, “Connor is the son I’ve always wanted. He keeps me going…”

While Connor is trying to figure out how to stop himself from crying, Markus smiles at Hank, “That’s wonderful news. Connor is irreplaceable. Can’t imagine life without him.” he fires off a wink to Connor, making the detective flush deep blue and desperately try to change the topic,

“Uhm….. is the church still treated as a community center?”

Markus turns back to his work, “Yeah. Josh has set up a help center of sorts. Get newly deviated Androids on their feet and help them integrate, or he leads them to an all Android area… Why?”

Connor opens his mouth to speak, but Hank beats him to it, “Connor rescued like thirty deviant androids today.”

Mismatched eyes look at Connor in shock, “What? From where?”

Having minor mobility in his arm again, Connor turns his palm up, offering an interface. Once they connect, he tries to only send information about the androids, but everything flows through. 

Like an open wound.

It hurts.

And now, along with the information unload from the job, Markus gets a surge of almost all of Connor’s life. The deviant on the roof, ’You lied to me, Connor.’, Carlos Ortiz’s android destroying himself, chasing Kara and Alice across a busy automated highway, choosing Hank over his mission, doubts about Amanda, petting Sumo, refusing to shoot the Traci’s, showing fear, watching Markus’ speech and finding his requests reasonable, finding Simon but refusing to reveal him, instead choosing to get his Thirium pump ripped out of his chest, Don’t shoot Chloe. 

Last chance.

Freedom.

Seeing Markus fully for the first time and thinking,

‘Oh… He’s beautiful.’

And Connor gets to see Markus’ life; Happy, until his father dies. Terror at waking amongst the corpses of his kind, fighting to get out. Jericho. Peace. Every decision kills androids, but stay peaceful. Just a little while longer. Rebellion planned to the last detail. Simon gets left behind and it hurts. Just a little while longer. No destruction. ’An eye for an eye and the world goes blind.’ Next steps, what can be done? Sacrifice self. John saving Markus, dying for him.

Then the barrel of a gun, easing of a scared man and the relief of his freedom.

The life in his brown eyes, and thinking,

’Like an angel…’

Markus manages to wrench away and both just stare at each other, each with overflowing tears and a new understanding. Both speak at the same time,

“You think I’m beautiful?”

“An angel?”

Markus laughs, “Hey, until you broke your programming I was almost certain I was going to die. The first thought after a near-death experience isn’t always the brightest.”

Connor shakes his head, “But really? An angel?”

“I stand by it.” Markus does a remarkable job ignoring his blush and continues working on the fine wiring of Connor’s shoulder. Hank stares, open mouthed,

“What the fuck?”

Connor looks at him, “We interfaced, Lieutenant. My intent was to show Markus what happened with Benjamin Yates, but it seems… our interface revealed significantly…. More.”

“Yeah, so you, what, revealed your feelings and now you’re both just ignoring the fact that you subconsciously admitted to liking each other?”

Both Markus and Connor look at Hank perplexed, and the man sighs, “For two supercomputers, you sure are dense.” He stands and walks to the door, “I’m going to wait out here for you to figure your shit out.”

Both Androids watch the man leave, then Markus slowly turns back to Connor,

“So, you think I’m beautiful?”

[nclkafilms]

The reality we decide to ignore

(Review of ‘Joker’. Seen in Nordisk Film Biografer, Aalborg on the 6th of October 2019, in Biffen Art Cinema, Aalborg on the 8th of October 2019 and at home on the 11th of January 2020.)

What do you get when you cross a comedy director with no previous directing experience with other genres with one of Hollywood’s finest character actors and the perhaps most famous and notorious comic book villain? When that director is Todd Phillips (of ‘The Hangover’ and ‘Road Trip’), the actor is Joaquin Phoenix and the villain is Batman’s The Joker, you get one of the most surprising film achievements of 2019. ‘Joker’ is a gritty, poignant and surprisingly profound character study that is telling us much more about the society we live in than it does about Batman’s arch enemy. As such Joker becomes a haunting reflection of a society in which virtues such as love and empathy have been long forgotten and replaced with fear, division and egocentricity.

In the film, we follow Arthur Fleck, who works as a clown-for-hire while he lives at home taking care of his ill mother, Penny. Arthur is in psychological and medical treatment for a - to us - unknown mental illness. He dreams of becoming a stand-up comedian and as we are quickly shown in a dream sequence he also dreams of being acknowledged and feeling valued; in this particular day dream: by his idol, talk show host Murray Franklin. But this version of Gotham - set in what seems to be the early 80’s - is no place for dreaming. Garbage strikes have been going on for weeks, the streets are being overrun by thugs and ill-adjusted citizens in line with an increase in the split between the top and bottom of society. In the opening credits, Arthur is attacked by a group of young people, but it is him who gets in trouble for losing a sign rather than them being punished for their attack. As Arthur points out: things are getting crazier out there. What follows is a thought-provoking and morally challenging journey to the bottom of Gotham City.

The main attraction in ‘Joker’ is Joaquin Phoenix. The character of The Joker has produced some amazing performances from Jack Nicholson and, especially, Heath Ledger, and it must be quite the role to take on for any actor. Phoenix puts himself right up there with the best, though, with a manic, nuanced and deeply human portrayal of Arthur Fleck. His physical transformation and performance alone is awe-inspiring: not only did Phoenix lose a lot of weight, no, he manages to infuse Fleck with a crippled physicality that mirrors his mental state. The way he runs, the way he laughs and the way he stares. It all highlights the state that Arthur is in. 

The idea of giving Fleck a physical condition that causes him to laugh in certain situations is clever, and Phoenix takes it to the next level in the scenes where this laughter causes him physical pain or alienation from his surroundings; his eyes convey a different story than his laugh and it is deeply fascinating to study. However, it is in the gradual change from being socially awkward and unresting to becoming more calm, more cynical and more unpredictable, that Phoenix truly manifests his qualities. The scene in which he calmly goes from panic and despair to an almost trance like dance in a worn down and darkly lit public bathroom is as beautiful as it is alarming; one of the single most memorable scenes from any film in 2019. A scene that is only made stronger by the beautiful score - but more about that later.

While ‘Joker’ is Phoenix’ film, it still boasts a high quality gallery of supporting roles with brilliant performances from Robert de Niro as talk show host Murray Franklin, Brett Cullen as Thomas Wayne, Frances Conroy as Arthur’s mother Penny, Glenn Fleshler and Leigh Gill as Arthur’s colleagues, Shea Wigham and Bill Camp as two police officers and finally Zazie Beetz as Arthur’s neighbour, Sophie. Common to them all is that they all highlight different aspects of how society - in Arthur’s eyes - is letting him down. Murray mocks him on live tv, Wayne distances him and everybody beneath him, Penny neglects him, the police hunts him and Sophie is not the girlfriend he imagines her to be. The fascinating thing here is, though, that Phillips is telling the entire story from Arthur’s perspective. He is not a narrator per se, but with him being present in every scene it is clearly his version of the story and, as such, he is highly unreliable if we are looking for the objective truth. And to be fair, I do not think that is what the filmmakers set out to do either. Here, the important truth lies both in Fleck’s imagination and reality and as such the ending is very fitting even though it has caused a lot of criticism for being a “cop out”.

In stead, Todd Phillips and Scott Silver want to give a voice to the people who are being shut out of society. The people we tend to look away from or distance ourselves from on the bus. The people who we laugh at when their weird mannerisms or actions are filmed and exposed on TV. The people who governments often find it easier to ignore or talk down to in stead of reaching out to or accommodating. The people who sadly sometimes end up causing unbearable tragedies. It’s a daring choice for Phillips and Silver to write their screenplay with this perspective but it pays off by creating one of the best films of the year.

This, of course, demands more than a brilliant ensemble as well as a daring director and screenwriter. When it comes to the quality of the crafts, ‘Joker’ is also right up there with the best of 2019. The cinematography is stunning as it really manages to show us the devastation of the state Gotham City is left in, but also in the way it centres on and helps Phoenix’ performance. Let me once again highlight THAT bathroom scene and the films use of mirrors. The film’s cinematographer, Lawrence Sher, rarely leaves Arthur out of sight whether it is in intimate close-ups or montages through the city. Equally as impressive is the production design, which manages to make Gotham feel alive and very real; dark and gritty when we are in the streets and colourful and exuberant when we are among the top of society. Additionally, you have to raise your hat to editor, Jeff Groth, who has created a tightly composed film from an excessive amount of material as Phoenix did a lot of different versions of each scene.

The most impressive aspect of the film’s technical aspect is, however, the score by icelandic Hildur Guðnadóttir. Her score is haunting to say the least with its deep and towering string sections combined with an ominous vibe that makes the score sit heavy on your shoulders as if it is the burden carried by Arthur. Guðnadóttir worked with Johan Johansson before his death and you can hear his influence, but make no mistake! Guðnadóttir is an artist on her own terms; her score has a unique sound that has landed her nominations at all the major awards and for which she hopefully will receive numerous wins too. The next strongest thing in the film after Phoenix’ performance. The score blends perfectly with the great overall sound design and it is perfectly balanced with the well-picked songs such as “Smile”, “That’s Life” and “My Name is Carnival”. I cannot count the times I have listened to this soundtrack since watching the film the first time.

I have seen the film three times now and I have been really unsure whether it was a 4,5/5 or 5/5 film, but considering it has stayed in my head for many days after every viewing, I have to say that I see it as a masterpiece. A film that I would never have expected to see from Todd Phillips. ‘Joker’ is a ruthless and brutally honest depiction of some of the deepest issues in modern society and a grim look at the possible consequences! From its core (Phoenix’ electric and mesmirising performance) it forces us to look at, to acknowledge and to reflect upon and discuss issues that popular culture and governments are normally too afraid to face and handle. In such, the entire discussion about the film in America is nothing but ironic and poignant. The film does in no way glorify violence or murder, nor does it convey unambiguous sympathy towards Arthur and his ultimately repulsive actions. 

What it does, however, is that it dares to show us the person - the human being - behind the tragedies and horrific events that sadly are becoming more and more “normal” in the world today. The people in the periphery of society that we are letting down when medical centres are closed, when we don’t support them, when we expect them to behave like everyone else. That is tough to watch, and it is - of course - easier to just condemn these people as clowns or cheer on a caped crusader as he battles this evil. But in ‘Joker’ there is no Batman, there is no cartoonish villain, there is no looking away. There are only humans and their nuanced nature.

5/5

[elanska]

"you're just you" - Ibelin vs Latte

I'm a staunch Arwin x Latte supporter, and so often times I've been thinking about Arwin x Ibelin, just to see another POV angle of what could have been.

There are times when I read Arwin x Latte moments and I said to myself, he's supposedly to flirt with Ibelin instead and my heart starts to ache. and I determined to prove that Latte is a FAR SUPERIOR CHOICE (yes, I went on imaginary shipping war with myself. it's a fun activity)

Okay, so let's talk about original Ibelin x Arwin route. In original novel, Arwin is represented as pretty commoner mage boi who have been helping and protecting Ibelin with his magic from time to time in order to gain her affection. And THEN it turns out that this sweet mage boi is actually the most powerful mage. Lording over all the other mage (like, you know, the sweet boy next door is actually the powerful prince that can instantly solve your problem with bitch-of-a-rival! surprise!)

original novel!Arwin fall for Ibelin because of her beauty, kindness (she helps the poor boy in slums and have confrontation with the thugs who tried to steal it), and being different from all other girls(?maybe? this is usual setting for romance novel). anyway, she's superior from all other girls, so original novel!Arwin can't help but falling for her in every scenes. The Eirene dance ball where she dance gracefully, the Eirene street festival where Ibelin watch the ultimate bor....intelligent plays that set her different from other girls who just like shallow romantic/drama plot. The Eirene's Goddess selection where Ibelin show off her charm with her voice and beauty and make him falls harder for her.

As you can see from paragraphs above. Original novel!Arwin is BORING pretty much non-descript. just a human prop to show off Ibelin's charm as the female main character. There's practically not a difference from him, Kenneth, and Rondemio except the guys with different occupations (but all having powerfull status and extremely good looking) that fall in love with Ibelin who is perfect in everything. You can swap original novel!Arwin with other mage who hide his status as tower lord and pretend he's just a lowly friendly mage........and the story will not change much? since Ibelin is the focus here, we just need that non-descript (but still pretty) guy to fall in love with her and the plot will go on like usual (since Ibelin is the focus here, not him)

There's two critical line in Arwin's flag. 'you're just you' = somehow this mage invited Ibelin to visit his home, and Ibelin finds out that the nice, helpful mage is actually the lord of other mage. And that she's surprised, but Arwin is still Arwin. I will interpreted it as "you might be the magician's tower lord, but you're still the mage that kind to me")

And I'm promptly confused, because WHAT THE HELL that supposed to means? It's not like the tower lord title is something bad? unless if we're taken another interpretation that 'tower lord has awful reputation as crazy psychopath' and 'ta-da I'm /that/ notorious tower lord actually'. so that 'you're just you' line means = even though you're the rumoredly notorious tower lord, you're still my friend (well, he's still one of fish option at this point). And this is heartwarming to Arwin because he secretly thinks that no one will accepts him because he's notorious and everyone thinks he's a monster(?). So he questions this sweet, angelic goddess - if she also think he's a monster.

We're gonna pause a bit and explore Latte's route. As you all (y'all) aware, our favorite Arwin is a crazy bastard who enjoy entertainment more than anything and having ummm...an unique sense of humor, and apparently having no idea at all how to courting girls. Or maybe he do have /vague/ idea, but the line of somebody interesting-friend-goofy friend to hang around with-I kinda like this girl-I want her to like me back.......is so friggin’ blurry that we're not entirely sure when it ended in one category and began in another (and from what we read so far, neither were he)

oh by the way, this is same boi on Ibelin route's above. But instead in story where Ibelin's shining as female main characters surrounded by three generic cut-and-paste pretty powerful males, where his characterization fell into 'Arwin is selfish crazy (psychopath) bastard and powerful wizard's lord but *always* eating out Ibelin's hand' bracket, our murderous bunny get, like, "waitaminute. I *am* the selfish crazy (psychopath) bastard here, the *fuck** you telling me I should do again?" and proceed to wreck his bracket. Of course, bits and pieces of his original character still exist - like how he's a sweetheart when he's with the girl he likes. But instead "Hi I'm that notorious psychopath Arwin, but everytime my gal do something, I'll become devoted mob fanboy with swirly googly eyes meep meep at whatever she does" VS "Yea, I'm that notorious psychopath Arwin who likes A, B, C, and hates D, E, F. What's this? we encounter event D? well, with my characterization, I should go flying in rage, but but gal is here and it'll be /pitiful/ if she's crying, jeez. fine, I'll just let this slide (for you)"

(yes, it's cute to see him struggling like that)

sorry getting distracted there. the point is.....the point is....we like Arwin's characterization, we like how he's strongly struggling to stay consistent to his identity but also getting affected by his love for his gal (Latte) and bit changed for the better (hey, love makes you a better person). We like him as a male lead with distinctive personality instead love-interest!mob that exist solely to fanboy over Ibelin's time-to-shine-with-my-heroine-dokidoki-powaa events.

Which is why we strongly had question about the two critical lines-to-ensnare-his-heart.

"you're just you" = on Ibelin's route, Ibelin is a foreigner that came to Empire and therefore didn't know Arwin is 1. head of powerful faction; and 2. crazy selfish psychopath (since he's always nice when he's around her). She just shrugged and goes "hey you're nice to me. You're my friend" and Arwin goes *Doki* oh I totally fell for ya’.

Y'see, Arwin didn't have any reason to hide his position as the Lord of Magician's. And being magicians are pretty respectable. The /royal family/ even conduct business with them. Ibelin just never asks, and Arwin is not the type to flaunting his title around (power, sure, but not title). What about number two? From Latte's excerpts, Arwin never been anything but sweet and cute bunny when he's with Ibelin (her detractors meet grisly ends behind her back, like Iron Mentalle), like 'well I heard rumors, but it can't be that bad, you're very nice guy (to me all this time)" and Arwin goes *DOKI*. And I goes, hey bunny, you know it's not true, you know yourself not a nice guy, why do you fall just because a girl said you are *not* who you are?

(and sorry guys, I don't think he'll goes 'since I've met ibelin, I will strive to change myself to became a nice docile mage that helpful to everyone. Time for myself undergoes self-change to became a better man to fit this angelic Ibelin *doki* or some pretty sappy like that). In fact, this kind of scenario got quickly debunked in Latte's route wherein Ibelin command Arwin to be nice person to Latte and Arwin goes, like, 8 to -10 in instant. in a sense, Ibelin just told him to KNEEL! and like Latte said, it's too big of a dream. You can probably request the lord of magicians to vaguely crouched down a bit to help you search for contact lens that just dropped to the ground /per se/ - and if he's feeling nice and (particularly) likes you, mighta done it, but you didn't outright *command* him. He might also done it *within* time, like +20 years into marriage and had been tolerating each other for old long times already, but definitely not for a pretty stranger that, like, only been acquaintance for a month (and like we told you in the essay-that-I-don't-know-when-it'll-be-finisheddd-I'm-experiencing-writer's-block; Arwin has issues of being in power. He's rebellious edgy fish, this fish #3)

Where was I? oh yeah. and that *doki* question 'do you also think I'm a monster?' What the. Since when it's an issue to you Arwin? If you don't want other people view you as monster, then act nice to other people, hey you. But to be fair to him, Arwin seems indifferent with other people. He's used to people gawking at his out-of-this-world beauty, and used to people keeping their distance since he's the lord of magician's tower. the only thing we witnessed to support his scary reputation is his brutal treatment to dangerous thugs, which while makes you 'isn't that a bit excessive, dude? just hand them over to nearest guard (which never shows up, oh well)' but not exactly *le gasp!* 'what a monster! *flail flail* horrible! horrible! they just want to mug you and you chop their head off? poor them!' (ummm, I'm not the greatest example of showing compassion, so yeah.....)

So, anyway, even though people generally fear Arwin and might be crossing the other street when they see him, they're not exactly goes into 'hide the women and children!' level. Basically, I don't see what's the fuss and why I must adhere to people who call you monster just because you offed the mugger that wants to mug you. they can fret 'you should be nicer' but I will not cry and wailing pitifully because I dun wanna be called a monsteeerrr so I will goes ’tis me! mug me all ye want so I can proven my niceness and be accepted by the society!!'. And if me, the normal vanilla mortal thinks that way, I honestly cannot think the lord of magician's tower with ego that stronger than mine (and absolute power to back that up) will think that way.

So Arwin getting concerned with society's perception of him, having identity crisis and afraid of Ibelin also thought of him that way? bullshit. He /might/ be worried about Ibelin not liking him since she's his love interest and it's normal if you want to be liked by the person you like too. but society? can bugger off themselves. and Arwin is always nice/not monsterly to Ibelin, so I don't know where that came from/what it supposed to be. angelic!Ibelin sees Arwin went brutal to defend her and goes *le gasp* you monster?! - won't exist anyway since she's nice angelic girl. It's weird.

So let's talk about Latte's route. Latte, as you know, is the empire's citizen whom house is only 3 days and 3 nights away from the magician tower where Arwin's reside, so she pretty much know about his reputation (incidentally, Latte's knowledge about the original novel seemingly contradicts Arwin 'real' personality. She often thinks him as monster pychopath (chopping bishot's head off, chopping her head off - all over nothing). Arwin doesn't take offense from this even though it's pretty much rude (then again he likes Latte, and he knows what's his reputation and know for the fact that he is, in fact, ruthless (tho not as severe as the monster that Latte's imagined)

Arwin never be anyone but himself in front of Latte. In fact, he acted his worst reputation  (= crazy psychopath bastard) right in front of her. Burning her hair tie to get her attention, free-falling force play, insist of calling her annoying nickname that she hate. He also acted his best in front of her (helping her cover for Cano, checking on her and fetching her ride home when she needs it most; actually asking for her /permission/ for a dance! - Arwin can *force* anyone dance with him with puppetry if needed to, but he can't make them enjoying it. And since he likes Latte, he wants her to enjoy her time with him, be it dance, or solving mystery together, or just casual banter. It’s a (BIG) shift from I’ll enjoy spending my time with her to I want *her* to enjoy her time with me too.

From what we see, enjoyment is big drive for Arwin. His friendship with Latte (which including her in 'won't kill because she's funny'’ friendlist started when he finds her amusing). He also making a big fuss upon the super boring play that Ibelin makes him attend - verbally lashing Latte for making him go through that (for 30 mins); he left Latte watching Ibelin's singing contest all on her own and told her to not including him next time for this boring shit.

SPOILER FROM NOVEL FOR AT LEAST +3-4 CHAPTERS AHEAD (where Latte will basically saying 'you're just you' and personal wild theories flinging)

so Arwin take Latte a tour on his abode. His house, his room, his personal perching spot. And Latte seems not really enjoy them. viewing the tower walls from outside? normal room, scary-since-it's-so-high loft space with lots of winds around-you-might-find-it-amusing-but-I-don't. He tried to make her comfortable - providing shield from the wind, providing fire so she's not cold, but it didn't change the fact that while he enjoy this place, Latte might not, and no matter what he do, he can't change it. It's like you‘re hardcore cosplayer frequently attending cons and your friend are 'I don't even understand' but then sighed and said 'yeah, you and your dumb shit, what else is new?' and help making your props/booking your ticket/etc anyway. That kind of old familiarity and acceptance and intimate feels of 'I'm so used with all your antics this doesn't baffle me'

As for Arwin, well, we had elaborating about he's not following society standards (if he is, he won't be crazy psychopath bastard that he is), so we're wagering he's using his own standard in relationship. And since we know he's definitely not doing boring/drab things just to please his significant other, the thought of Latte doing it for him ('I don't really like being here, but it's for you, so okay then') kind of touching. Probably. Uh we don't really understand romance. 

and don't even ask me about 'do you also think I'm a monster' thing, because that shit is weird as fuck.

[my-moon-taeil]

SuperM trailers... before and after Taemin’s.

Okay I’m making this post because as you all know, Taemin’s trailer was dropped the other day and I’m already losing my mind just thinking about watching it. Because, I don’t know about you, but each time he appeared, he kinda scared the sh*t out of me. Therefore, to get ready, I’ll rewatch the other trailers again and will make a post about them, to sum up my main ideas.

Then, I’ll watch Taemin’s and add my thoughts, change/add things to what I had already said.

(I have written about Mark’s and Lucas’, so you might want to check them out before reading this post!)

I’ll proceed like so, one idea/thought at a time!

The feeling of entrapment

I think it’s the most obvious in Mark’s, with him being in the box, with the shattered glass, as if he had tried to break free, but we find that aspect in every single trailer but Kai’s, who’s for once, standing outside. As I said in my post about Lucas’ trailer, he (Lucas) seems to be the one most in control, but what’s important to note is that Kai is able to teleport when danger gets too close, therefore is able to escape it; in a way, he doesn’t seem as helpless as the others are, though he was the only one directly facing danger, apart from Taeyong (who is facing his clone, but is unable to defend himself). To go back to the feeling of entrapment though, Ten is seen dancing in a closed space (with a play with reflection on the floor, which makes me think of Mark’s situation), Lucas, after a clear shift in the trailer, is also in a closed space, though the mirrors do open up the room and the perspective, therefore it might not seem as closed off (though, I would say, the reflections can seem threatening and could be cutting off that aspect of infinity created by the play with mirrors). Mark is in a box, and it is also the case for Baekhyun, who seems to be sitting in a box, but with holes that give way to light (and air);

Subjects to experiments

Yes, Baekhyun’s box makes me think about those living beings (usually animals) we put in boxes in which we pierce some holes to give them air while  we transport them, or trap them to observe them, for instance in laboratories... here, I think it goes back to that idea, that Baekhyun is being used for experiment. I had the same feeling about Mark, with the sterile atmosphere and his white clothing, which made me think of an hospital. Again, in Baekhyun’s trailer, we find him looking at a data collector on his finger, usually used to check up on someone after an operation or in any situation where data, such as blood and tension, need to be collected.

Disorientation

Being subject to weird experiments does bring confusion. And that is something we find in every single trailer but Lucas’. Baekhyun is waking up and looking around, seemingly confused. The factor of ‘waking up’ is also present in Kai and Taeyong’s. We have Kai on the floor, looking up at a flickering light, and he seems to have an headache. Taeyong also finds himself on the floor, at two different moments, one in which he seems to wake up, and the second where he is being threatened by a gun. Mark is showing confusion and curiosity when getting into the room, and also seems to find some interest in the box he carried here; it shows he does not know what is inside, and to me it probably means that they are subject of things they are not aware of. The same goes for Ten, entering the art room, he looks around and walks slowly, showing he does not know where he is heading to, does not know his way around, and is hesitating. What also adds to that disorientation and makes the atmosphere weird (if it isn’t straight out creepy) is that they are in places that are usually crowded; hospitals, cinema, art gallery, parking spot… only Baekhyun’s trailer, as well as Lucas’ are not fitting in that aspect (the latter especially because he is not alone during the whole trailer, only after a turning point, and the former because the room he is in is not a common place, to start with).

Chaos/destruction

This can easily be seen in Kai’s trailer, with the (pieces, at that, of) cars falling from the sky, also the car body and the flames all around him. We also find this aspect in Ten’s trailer, with the flowers scattered on the ground, which are dying flowers, too.The other trailers do not fit that much into that aspect of chaos and destruction, though there is a sentiment of danger in Taeyong’s, and in Mark’s urgency as he jogs up the stairs.

Time/urgency

The play with time, and the urgency truly is something I noted in almost all the trailers. Kai’s can be found in the way he has to escape the falling cars by teleporting/disappearing suddenly, only Baekhyun and Ten do not, or at least I did not notice anything linked to that, seem to be in any kind of urgency or linked with Time (apart, if I may say, the flowers dying, linked with time). The play with time can easily be found in the others, though. Taeyong is in a cinema, and the film is about to start, cue the countdown of big numbers behind him (their size seems important to note, too, because they therefore cannot be ignored). For Mark, I’ve noted the way the red (same colour as the numbers in Lucas’) glass is rolling, and about to stop, as well as the way his figure is jogging up the stairs (which the angle just reminds me of time, an hourglass maybe? or even, as I just thought, some kind of optical illusion/something hypnotizing?) In Lucas’, even though he seems to be in control and walks slowly (and seemingly with a goal/destination, the way he looks at the camera is often confident and direct, dare I say challenging), so the aspect of urgency is not that present; time, though, is. The numbers of the elevator are going crazy, and he’s stuck in a strange spatial-temporal dimension as the people’s pace of life around him seem to be accelerated (though if they go toward the future or the past, I do not know). It’s also a turning point, because after that, he finds himself alone (but never truly).

Parallel universes

They all seem to have something going on with a parallel dimension. Taeyong is in the cinema room, and also in the movie, what’s also important to note is that he seems to be watching himself. Ten in the paintings, with his hand reaching for himself; though, there’s also the fact that the flowers from the painting fell out of it, leaving only a black canvas, and as I said, it’s important to note that the flowers are dead. In Kai’s, there’s also a clear shift, from night to day, as if it were a vision from another time (future, past? Or the other real world). What also calls out to me is the statics before that change; static, day, static, and then we go back to Kai during nighttime, and the cars start to fall from the sky. There’s obviously the one with Mark and his double (with a black and white theme, that I have noted in my post about his trailer, which is probably hinting at a Manichean view), and the way he is reflected, as if he was looking at another him, someone he could be in a parallel universe. Though, I do not really find something hinting to that aspect in Baekhyun and Lucas’ trailers.

Clones/doubles

The first one that comes to mind is indeed Taeyong’s trailer, because not only does he face himself (in a brutal way) where it seems to be inside the movie, but there also is the scene at the end, where there’s a dozen of him clapping. But as mentioned before, Ten seems to have a double as well, reaching for himself, though we only see his hands. Mark’s double is also very obvious. Lucas’ is more subtle, but still very clear; there’s an important play with the mirrors, that show his reflection many times. It does make me think of an army, in the strict organization of his silhouette reflections. For once, though, we do not lose sight of the real Lucas (or at least I do not think so), whereas that line is still unclear when it comes to the rest of them. Only Baekhyun and Kai do not seem to have this multiplicity, if it isn’t in the number of cars falling down on the latter.

Taemin’s control

Finally, we all can say there’s something going on with Taemin, appearing in each trailer for a few seconds. It screams omnipresence and omnipotence to me. Here are a few aspects I noted, linked to Taemin; 1. he seems to be very in control. He’s also linked to music and sounds (e.g. he turns down the music in Luca’s trailer). He always appears either on top of a pyramid (the epitome of hierarchy representation, nothing is clearer than that) or in a control room, with recording tapes and such. And if not, there is an object linked to each boy; in Mark’s trailer, Taemin appears surrounded by fallen chairs, chairs that are similar to the one Mark was sat on. 2. there’s this thing that happened in both Ten and Lucas’, that seems important to note. The zoom on ears(/side of their faces). I cannot get the idea of a chip, or anything controlling them/their mind. 3. A few times, there are big plans on their eyes/gaze. I’m thinking Baekhyun, when he looks around, and is being analized by the machine. And Taeyong. There’s also something else about Taeyong that seems important to bring up; he is watching the screen, and the way it’s orchestrated makes me wonder if he is watching on his own will, or if maybe the screen/movie is a way to get in his mind; he does seem hypnotized by what he’s seeing?

My thoughts on Taemin’s trailer (I am shaking inside what the hell?);

It answers pretty much what I had already thought of. Just that because there’s this parallel between the boys’ gaze and Taemin’s I feel more than ever that he has access to their brain, thoughts, and can control them (maybe becomes one with them, even). I was quite surprised that he also had clones? Though, compared to the rest of them all, the clones are not moving, and seem lifeless; to me, it showed that they came for him, but he was stronger than them, meaning that he is stronger than them all (because the other boys have not been able to get rid of their own clones). Every thing about his trailer just shows his superiority, and the fact that he was the one to control the cars falling on Kai is telling a lot. And something I don’t think I mentioned before, though it was telling because Kai teleported, there’s a clear dimension of superpower going on there.

In any case, I might come back for more. If you have read of all that, I can only thank you and congratulate you! Share your thoughts in the comments, tags & reblogs!