#this might be spoilers apparently so ill mark it

[lichi-rin]

[bao3bei4]

BLESSED BE THEY WHOSE LIVES DO NOT TASTE OF EVIL

BUT IF SOME GOD SHAKES YOUR HOUSE

RUIN ARRIVES

RUIN DOES NOT LEAVE

IT COMES TOLLING OVER THE GENERATIONS

IT COMES ROLLING THE BLACK NIGHT SALT UP FROM THE OCEAN FLOOR

AND ALL YOUR THRASHED COASTS GROAN

anne carson, antigonick

panting like a dog at the edge of your bed is a tian guan ci fu fanfiction written by ao3 user bloodletter. it follows he xuan, a side character in the original work, for sixty thousand odd words and over two hundred years. it is very good. it has some hefty cws, though, check them out. but on the whole it’s a funny and pleasant fic. 

you can read this without having read the fic yet. consider it an advertisement with mild spoilers.

let’s begin with a short story about graves: two brothers fight each other for the throne. one is buried a hero; one rots a rebel. their sister decides that the latter ought to be buried as well anyway, against the king’s edict. she is entombed alive as punishment. 

some other things happen too, but they’re not important. i tell you this story, the story of antigone, not because or maybe not simply because she is oedipus’ daughter and she therefore might be as psychically central as her father, but because panting is also a story about duty, remains, and being entombed alive. and it seems to ask the question, in its own way, what might happen to antigone if she hadn’t killed herself, but encased in her tomb, festered, rotted, into a shape beyond a girl, beyond a human? 

when we release antigone from her tomb, what do we see? 

we turn, actually, to zizek here briefly. he makes the salient point that being “not dead” and “undead” are two totally separate things. as he phrases it: 

the ‘undead’ are neither alive nor dead, they are precisely the monstrous ‘living dead.’ and the same goes for ‘inhuman’: ‘he is not human’ is not the same as ‘he is inhuman’... [the inhuman is] marked by a terrifying excess which, although it negates what we understand as ‘humanity,’ is inherent to being-human.

so rather than being inhuman, we might call a ghost extrahuman. they have a surplus of humanity, overfilling overflowing from them. the ghost is simply too alive to categorize. at the heart of being human, is something very very strange.

now i am going to give you a long quote. and it is not because i am lazy but because it is just that good. and i’m a little lazy. so here’s avery gordon: 

if haunting describes how that which appears to be not there is often a seething presence, acting on and often meddling with taken-for-granted realities, the ghost is just the sign, or the empirical evidence if you like, that tells you a haunting is taking place. the ghost is not simply a dead or a missing person, but a social figure, and investigating it can lead to that dense site where history and subjectivity make social life. the ghost or the apparition is one form by which something lost, or barely visible, or seemingly not there to our supposedly well-trained eyes, makes itself known or apparent to us, in its own way, of course. the way of the ghost is haunting, and haunting is a very particular way of knowing what has happened or is happening.

ghosts, then, have an epistemology all their own. they are a way of seeing what is not there, an absence. antigone is not alive. what might she say anyway? what might she want? 

we know, from freud, that ghosts are a projection of our ill will against the dead. we wanted them dead, on some level, and so they reproach us in their un-death. this is why so many ghosts have grievances; we have grievances against them in turn. 

it is perversely surprising, therefore, that he xuan might become a ghost. shi wudu has no grievance with he xuan; he sees only necessity. but panting brings he xuan to life by shi wudu’s hand. 

The man’s hand hovers in the air, and though cast in shadow, it sees uncertainty play out on his face. The companion calls from the doorway, “Oi, Shui-xiong, are we done here?” The first man gazes at the urn for a moment longer, and then turns away. Nods curtly. “We’re done.”

this is the name that animates he xuan; it is shi wudu’s ambivalent last visit, in my view, that catalyzes the whole thing. his fear that it is, in fact, not done, that sets in motion the events that bring about his demise. 

i’m going to tell you a ghost story. 水鬼 are a type of ghost. they live in rivers and streams and they are the remnants of people who died by drowning. be careful on the water: if they pull a living person in, they can finally be reincarnated. isn’t that beautiful? revenge brings you peace. i’m sure it’s that simple. 

these are the kinds of ghosts he xuan eats: “No one had to teach him how to do it. When the first time came, an instinctual part of him knew how to proceed.” but the more he eats and he eats the more he turns into a constellation of hunger. 

A hairline fracture within him widens, opening up that black chasm where the things he swallows are made room for. It spreads out to the border of him, turning him inside-out, until nothing remains except that lustful emptiness. Perhaps nothing more than that nothingness ever existed; in those feverish moments, his humanity feels like nothing so much as a wistful dream of better days that never were.

is it cannibalism for he xuan to eat a shuigui? a human? another god? or is it simply doing as was done unto him? 

lu xun writes in diary of a madman: 

the eater of human flesh is my elder brother! i am the younger brother of an eater of human flesh! i myself will be eaten by others, but none the less i am the younger brother of an eater of human flesh!

but so too did he write: 

wanting to eat men, at the same time afraid of being eaten themselves, they all look at each other with the deepest suspicion. . . . how comfortable life would be for them if they could rid themselves of such obsessions and go to work, walk, eat and sleep at ease. they have only this one step to take. yet fathers and sons, husbands and wives, brothers, friends, teachers and students, sworn enemies and even strangers, have all joined in this conspiracy, discouraging and preventing each other from taking this step.

lu xun is, of course, critiquing tradition—the “madman” sees cannibalism all around him, even in the classics he was taught. the cannibal has this in common with the ghost — they are the allegedly primitive ways of knowing that outlived the logics of capitalist modernity. the law, the state, the family, all of it bursting with this repressed violence. freud writes: “From the idea of ‘homelike,’ ‘belonging to the house,’ the further idea is developed of something withdrawn from the eyes of strangers, something concealed, secret.”

marx was no stranger to ghosts. he was of course intimate with the specter of communism, but even more than that, he writes: “the tradition of all dead generations weighs like a nightmare on the brains of the living.” the bodies we have eaten return to us. and derrida contended with this problem, describing the ways in which, quoting hamlet, “the time is out of joint,” or rather, history is disordered. the past is made present, ghosts caught forever in-between by injustices and disruptions, necessitating a new way to describe something that is and is not actually present. fredric jameson describes hauntology as derrida’s “mocking” answer to the question of if “tangible certainty and solidity corresponds to ontology... how to describe what literally undermines it and shakes our belief?”

whatever. big shock. what IF law and order were violent. i think they made a show about that. i am trying to move here, from the individual undead to the collective undead. what if it is not merely us that are undead in the world of unliving, but the world which has in fact already ended? 

before he xuan dies, (in this fic) he xuan is raped. i want to read this eschatologically: 

He’s not sure he’s ever been less of a person than this; despite all of the indignity and toil that came before, he was at least always working towards something. Like a feral dog, his purpose has become bare survival. He needs to survive long enough to serve the end of his time, and then someone will pay. 

okay before i go any further i want to give into my semi-medicated anxiety disorder. in fear of misreadings: i am not saying that any of this applies to all survivors of rape. i am making a claim about how he xuan sees and conducts himself, as a malevolent undead avatar of revenge. 

anyway: panting is a story about living past the end of the world. it follows an undead protagonist living past the end of her normal life, her life, her world, and who indeed lives beyond the limits of the original story, veering even into epilogue. this sexual violence heralds the apocalypse, and razes what-has-been to the ground. let us consider he xuan’s initial new form as a ghost: “It can’t touch anything, but neither can it be touched. It is, and it is not.” 

rape and death are a de-gendering process for he xuan. what is left afterward is the idea that mourning can be constitutive of gender. 

he xuan clings to masculinity as obligation: “It wasn’t enough for my parents to die on my behalf? I should do away with their son, too?” but bloodletter also makes new possibilities explicit as well. 

He Xuan’s true body is a weathered vessel for the memory of people he is still trying to do right by, in his way. As much as it might presently seem otherwise. He must fashion new flesh for the shameful pleasures of the dark.

and those new feminine bodies? 

The body itself is an assemblage of women she has seen and been. The form that He Xuan took on with Hua Cheng is too ghastly for polite company, so as Ming Yi she concedes to look more like a goddess.

it is not so simple as masculinity = death and femininity = possibility, by the way. it’s more complicated than that. NOT to personally equate femininity with reproductive capacity, but it’s worth talking about how ming yi’s implicit equivocation of the two through her new undead capabilities has a gender kaleidoscopic effect. 

after all, the earth that’s nature’s mother is her tomb; what is her burying grave, that is her womb. or whatever. it’s a truism at this point. is it feminine to be dead? anyway, he xuan echoes that shakespeare line: 

He Xuan has been inside mines before, in her role as the false Earth Master, and she always dislikes them, despite the comforting quality of their thick darkness. The bottom of the sea is just as black, but while underwater, He Xuan may move in endless directions. Here, she is pressed in on on all sides, and can’t help but think of the true Ming Yi, imprisoned in Ghost City.

womb and tomb, indeed. he xuan builds herself a womb/tomb to return to: 

He Xuan thinks of the manor, encompassing them on all sides. Still, solemn, cavernous. A place where the living have never trod, and any who might come to enter its depths are hers to claim.

central to the fic is the idea of circlusion, or the antonym of penetration. to encompass, to surround, to squeeze, to engulf, to circlude. my god the fisting scene. or consider this quote: 

For her own part, He Xuan dreams of Shi Qingxuan, devoured. If Shi Qingxuan were another dead thing, like herself, the temptation would be too great to resist, and then at least He Xuan could contain her: suspended in eternal digestion and assimilated into the slipstream of selves that He Xuan may drag her fingers through as she pleases, and which never disturb her otherwise.

anyway, this succession of wombs/tombs provides new form for he xuan’s gender and indeed catharsis: 

The thought that a man could look at her and want to shove something in her cunt makes her want to laugh: go ahead, go and try it; plumb those depths, where only death awaits you.

consider the cunt that gives death, not life, but is itself life. anyway. look, to sum all this up, the point i am trying to make is that grief is something that can be so trans to me. she is standing in the wreckage of her old life. and you don’t move on, you move around the shape of the loss, until you are warped and whole containing the seed/husk of yourself. 

remember poor antigone? what if instead of being buried, she was reborn? what if she ate and she ate her way free, until she was no longer human, but more than human, and the world ended around her, but she kept unliving until there was nothing left but GORGEOUS T4T SEX?????? and also there was a really good huaxuan fwb subplot that i didn’t even talk about because i got caught up in the fever of he xuan dramatics??? that’s what panting like a dog at the edge of your bed is about. in my opinion. you should read it. 

[zaddyazula]

rdr2 spoilers under the cut

this cutscene is really interesting to me because it really does start to mark the shift in the game’s narrative. sean’s death is the beginning of this shift, almost foretelling of what’s to come, but you’re still safely in chapter 3 territory at that point; it’s only when you get (officially) introduced to saint denis that this shift starts to become apparent (at least to someone who’s played the game before. obviously, first time players won’t have a clue in the world what’s about to happen). the smoke billowing up into the sky, the grit of the city that’s visible even in the sliver of it you see in this cutscene: it’s nothing positive. chapter 4 is such a pivotal chapter, not with only the deaths and missions, but with the obvious (the tuberculosis diagnosis), and the mood the game fully develops into after that. there is a sense of pure dread to me in this scene, but even without the knowledge of how badly the game goes downhill from here, this scene is anything but pleasant - it hardly paints a lovely picture of the chapter - which makes it all the more interesting. if we take the point of view of a first time player, we don’t know arthur’s ill, we don’t know how messing around in saint denis is going to domino the entire story, we don’t know hosea and lenny are going to end up dying. so having this scene here must be strange. why is there such a negative light cast on saint denis? on the beginning of a new chapter? it’s an unprecedented mood to start the chapter on, thinking about how the other chapters start before this, even with the content they might contain. they are the starting chapters, obviously, but chapter 2, we have thomas downes; chapter 3, we have sean’s death and the pinkertons looming even heavier over the gang. both chapters start wholesome enough, so to someone playing the game for the first time, it’s unusual. instilling worry into those first seeing it, and further reinforcing it into us who have played the game before - it’s the right choice for the chapter, starting off on a comforting foot: running around after children, a whole new city to explore, before returning to the sentiment it started on - absolute dread. the chapter tricks you after this scene, lulling you into a false sense of security, making you take the introduction to it as a bit strange, but nothing more, but before you know it, you’re at the bank robbery watching it fall to pieces - and it doesn’t stop there. the entireties of chapter 5 and 6 you are just forced to sit there and play as the gang falls apart.

[our-reality]

. . .

.

[usergreenpixel]

JACOBIN FICTION CONVENTION MEETING 20: ORPHANS OF THE STORM (1921)

1. The Introduction

Hello, Citizens! Welcome to the new meeting of the Jacobin Fiction Convention. Unfortunately, I can’t be here in person today because I might have Covid and I’m not feeling well, but the power of technology is here to aid me!

Anyway, today is our 20th meeting, which makes it our second anniversary! Yay! To mark this, I present you a 1921 silent movie - “Orphans of the Storm”.

I found out about it on Wikipedia and then on IMDb, but I kept hearing stuff about it before. Nothing good, mind you, but I got curious regardless, as I usually do with infamous pieces of media. I found it on YouTube and it’s readily available there if you’re curious.

And oh boy, is this movie BAD. REALLY REALLY BAD. So bad, that this is going to be a rant, more so than a review. But hopefully it will still be informative and entertaining.

Grab some snacks, take a seat and let’s fucking go.

Citizen @stalinistqueens , this review is dedicated to you!

2. The Summary

This is the story of two orphaned sisters, Louise and Henriette, who got caught up in the events of the Revolution while staying in Paris.

Also, apparently it uses Frev as commentary on the dangers of Bolshevism and Socialism.... Okay then, let’s see how it turned out!

3. The Story

(Spoilers ahead!)

I have a lot of complaints here, chief of which is the fact that misery and trouble just keeps piling up on the sisters until it just becomes impossible to believe it!

You see, for me personally, storytelling is like baking a lemon cake. You need lemon juice (aka drama) but you also need sugar (aka happy moments) to balance it out. However, the movie is the equivalent of using an entire bottle of lemon juice with only a spoonful of sugar!

First Louise becomes blind after an illness and she and Henriette lose their parents, then Henriette is kidnapped by a marquis who lusts after her, then Louise is tricked and kidnapped by evil paupers who force her to beg, then Henriette is arrested and locked up... and so on and so forth.

Do you see what I mean, Citizens? All the misery just becomes too much after a while, to the point where I personally stopped believing it and stopped caring for the characters, which is the opposite of what a storyteller is supposed to achieve. I’m only an amateur writer but even I get that!

Aside from that, there ends up being too many characters and just too much stuff happening so, in my opinion, the movie can get really confusing and a lot of scenes just drag on for way too long.

Oh, and there’s also a standard saccharine happy ending that’s so cheesy and sweet it’s ridiculous, especially because it portrays the Thermidor and The Directory as good things and “true democracy triumphing over tyranny”. Yeah, true democracy my ass!

Oh, and the entire narrative is laced with propaganda like a cupcake with frosting! Take a look at this intro:

Honestly, no comments are needed here because all the comments I do have will have to be censored. Nothing like the tired old propaganda about “The Great Land of the Free” being shoved in the face...

That said, there are a few moments that I do like, like the tender scenes where Henriette cares for Louise and looks out for her. That’s the devotion I can appreciate! Still not enough to redeem the movie though.

4. The Characters

I don’t have much to say here. I don’t give a fuck about most of the characters, to be honest.

The sisters and Henriette’s love interest are too good, Robespierre is the stereotypical dictator, Danton is the hero who saves the day...

You get the idea. And they’re not even in the “so serious they become funny” category either! They’re just fucking boring and more plain than oatmeal with water!

And also the revolutionary men (except Danton and that love interest) are shown as one bloodthirsty crazy mob, while revolutionary women wear short skirts and act suggestively so they’re pretty much portrayed as promiscuous. Nothing new here.

5. The Acting

The acting here is...okay, I guess. I get that there’s only pantomime to work with so it is going to be a bit over-exaggerated, but the actors seemed to have gone overboard regardless.

I blame the director though, because usually this is out of control of the cast.

6. The Music

The music here is decent, and this is about the nicest thing that can be said about this shit. At least they didn’t fuck up this one aspect!

7. The Setting.

Here’s where I have to agree with Citizen @stalinistqueens . It looks pretty, but that’s about it. It’s like dog poop wrapped up in a nice gift box. All style and no substance. Or rather, a lot of truly awful substance that is impossible to watch.

8. The Conclusion

I get that this movie was made as propaganda and commentary on Bolshevism. Heck, this is why there’s a 1935 adaptation of Les Mis with Enjolras as the villain (no, I didn’t make it up). I get that they wouldn’t portray revolutionaries as the good guys.

But even then, the propaganda is extremely obnoxious and they just had to promote American supremacy in the bluntest and most obvious way possible. But, even with inaccuracies moved aside (because I don’t tackle them often), it’s just not worth your time if you ask me.

A melodramatic confusing story, a bunch of bland characters and only the pretty style to make up for it.

Citizen @stalinistqueens , you said that it’s surprising the creators even remembered that Frev happened in France and, considering how much propaganda and outright lies there are, I can only agree with you because that’s the best way to put it.

Anyway, with that, let us finish today’s meeting. Please stay tuned for updates and stay safe, okay?

Love,

- Citizen Green Pixel

[lemonjoonah]

Blood Bounty - Part 2 (M)

Pairings: Yoongi x Reader, Taehyung x Reader, ft. Seokjin x Namjoon Word Count: 15.5K Rating: M Genre: Historical fantasy AU, Vampire AU, Thriller, Drama, Smut Warnings (contains spoilers): unprotected sex, fingering, oral (f. receiving), vampire feeding during intercourse, referenced non-consensual vampire feeding, attempted non-consensual vampire feeding, attempted vampire feeding on a minor, referenced captivity, referenced injury to animal, blood, violence, gore, threats, obsession, poisoning, murder, minor character death(s), illness, referenced death of brother, historical medical practices, self-inflicted injury (for the sake of vampire feeding), contemplation of action which might result in self-harm, discussion of drugging (with vampire blood)

| Series Masterlist |

Summary: He’s taken everything from you, your blood, your memories, your life, and after months spent as Taehyung’s own personal feast, you eagerly take your chance to flee. Unfortunately your escape doesn’t go as well as you had hoped, as you are soon caught by another blood thirsty beast. The vampire Yoongi claims to know you, and that he wishes to return you home. But when you can only remember the pain caused by his kind, you find it difficult to trust him, since he too could just be another monster waiting to feed.

A/N: Just a quick note, there will be a few flashbacks in part two, all of which should be italicized (as long as Tumblr doesn’t fail to format properly). Hope you all enjoy it, and please let me know what you think!

...

You wake before Yoongi at the start of dusk, after having fallen back asleep propped against his chest. The tension in your thighs from your two days of riding resurfaces as you stand. Restricted to a strained hobble, you grab the nearest supply sack. Heading outside to take a moment of privacy and address your bodily needs, while leaving Yoongi to continue his rest.

As you finish putting on the fresh clothes you acquired the day before, swapping out for a new tunic and the much needed smaller boots, Yoongi bursts out the door of the ramshackle house. His face fraught with worry. “Your Highness?!”

“Here,” you call over to him, stepping out from the cover of the trees. “I’m here.”

His chest heaves with a sigh as he relaxes. “You should have woken me.”

“So you could hover over me as I change?” You ask with a raised brow as you fit your cap back on your head.

“N-no... it’s just best if...” Yoongi’s reply is marked with stuttered speech and a tone of frustration. “H-how can I keep you safe if you wonder off in the night? You act as though you don’t have a bounty on your blood. There are sure to be hunters about and still looking for you.”

“I didn’t stray far, and there was still light out when I left you.”

“Even so, it worried me to wake, and not find you by my side.” He mutters, before returning inside to fetch the horse’s tackle and the rest of the bags.

“It won’t happen again.” You promise to his turned back, disarmed by his compassionate concern.

While he readies the horse for the day's journey, you keep to the front of the stead. Holding on to the bridal, you brush the dark mane as you make a request. “Are we able to stop at a river soon? The waterskin is running low.”

Yoongi nods, “We will cross one shortly before my ally’s post.”

“Your ally?” You ask, your heart starting to race as you panic over the suggestion. “You never said we would have to meet with more of your kind.”

“He has a residence he keeps for the clan between here and your castle. He will have a spare room and bed for us. I can promise you resting there will be far more comfortable than it has been the past two nights.”

“And it’ll be safe for me to be around such company?”

“He has no need for your blood. He resides there with his blood consort, a human-”

“A human! A captive-”

“No, no of course not.” Yoongi cuts in. “They are companions, Namjoon feeds Seokjin by choice, and in return Seokjin looks after him with his own blood, keeping Namjoon free from age and ailment.”

“But-”

“Seokjin will not approach you if I ask him not to. I trust him.” Yoongi comments as he straps the last bag in, the horse now equipped to depart.

Placing your foot in the stirrup before Yoongi can even offer to assist. Muttering your apprehension over the situation as you attempt to mount the stead. Though your endeavour to reach the saddle on your own fails miserably, resulting in your back colliding with Yoongi’s chest as you fall. His arms catch yours while your foot remains caught in the metal brace. “Careful now,” Yoongi warns you.  

“I know. I can do it on my own.” You urge back, frustration edging out into your voice over your apparent state of helplessness, as you struggle to right yourself.

“I’m sure you can.” He chuckles, while pushing you up and onto the horse, before joining you himself. “But it doesn’t mean you have to.”

You shrink down between his arms trying to avoid his touch, continuing to fume over the prospect of spending the day within reach of another vampire. Yoongi may have become less of a concern after the revelation last night, but the thought of being in such close proximity to someone of his clan puts you on edge.

As you shift in the saddle trying to find a comfortable position for your seat, one of his hands comes to clutch your waist. He presses you back against him, mercifully relieving some of the weight from your thighs.

“Better?” He asks.

You nod in reply. Despite your bitterness you lean into him further, the ache being a far more pressing issue at this moment, then the ally you meet later tonight. Soon finding comfort in his support, you turn your concern to the other vampires that neither you nor he can dismiss so easily. “Earlier you said that Taehyung’s hunters are still about, you don’t think they would make it out this far and this quickly do you?”

“For you? Most certainly. I’m sorry to say, I doubt they are far behind.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I was forced to work among them. The swiftest way for me to get to you on my own was to be granted an invitation inside, but to do that I needed to hunt. I gave them a false identity, calling myself Agust, and my services in an attempt to gain their favour.” You go rigid in the saddle. Yoongi must have sensed the change as he is quick to clarify his words. “I never gave them people, only blood I acquired in the same way that I obtained it for myself.”

“And how do you do that?”

“You know I can’t tell you,” Yoongi mutters. You’ve come to despise this answer, still huffing at his need to keep all a secret. “When you keep insisting on hiding it, I start to doubt more and more that I will like the answer.”

He hesitates before replying. “What if that is what I want?”

“I thought you said I shouldn’t judge so quickly? Now you wish for me to dislike you and your ways?” You blurt out in confusion. Why after attempting to build your trust would he want you to hate him so.

“Not necessarily, just to question and be critical once you have all of the information, to hold your own opinion and not my own view. If your memories come from me how can I know that they are unbiased.”

“But how is that a memory of mine if it’s your method of feeding?”

Yoongi doesn’t respond but merely clenches his jaw when you look back at him, refusing to speak anymore on the subject.  

The silence between you stretches on for most of the night, he checks in on occasion to ensure that you are well. But other than that you hardly exchange another word, right up to when Yoongi slows the horse at the sight of the moonlit river and bridge. He helps you dismount, and unhooks a pack from the saddle, giving you access to the provisions you require.

“Our stop is only a few more minutes away down road. We have several hours until day break.” He nods to the river, “Take all the time you need. I’ll give you some privacy and take the horse just around the bend.”

When Yoongi leaves your line of sight, you remove your boots, roll your trousers, and step into the chill waters. You take one stride in and another unit you are submerged almost to your knees. Filling up the waterskin you take a long daft, while also savouring the coolness of the river your skin and sores. The bandages on your heels are a ragged mess, in desperate need of being replaced. You reluctantly return to the banks, crouching to rummage through the pack to hunt for something that could be of use to protect the broken skin.

You have no such luck in locating any spare cloth, but find instead a heavy roll of leather at the bottom. Dragging it up to the surface of the pack, you are curious as to what it might be. While peeking up to ensure that Yoongi has not come back to check in, you loosen the string ties and unravel the well-worn wrap. There’s a small clang from whatever lies inside as it unfolds. Your heart races as you attempt to brace the objects within, slowing your motions to prevent the noise from happening again. Not wishing to draw attention to your invasion of the vampire’s belongings.

But your cautionary actions come to a swift halt when tucked inside you find sharp metal instruments, encompassing a variety of shapes, sizes, and serrations. Kept well enough to glare back at you as they reflected the moonlight. You immediately drop the leather carrier to the ground, and stumble away from the horrific implements. Though in your fear and hurry, you miscalculate the security of the ground on which you stand. Teetering on the rocks at the river’s edge, you fall back. Losing your hat to the current, while your hands plunge into shallow water. The sharp pebbles of the bank dig into your palms, skinning off the scab of Taehyung’s bitten wound.

You gasp in pain, pulling your hand out from the river to inspect the freshly opened break in your skin. Yoongi appears seconds later, reaching out for your hand from the edge of the water. “Are you hurt?”

You look from your palm up to Yoongi. The sting of the lesion and his presence triggering a memory of a darkened cobblestone street, a fanged monster hidden beneath a hood, reaching out for your hand, caked with dirt and blood. Then a gap, a break in your recollection, ending with a flash of Yoongi taking that same hand and passing his own blood over yours to close the cut. The brief glimpse ends, leaving you with a bleak look at your alleged friendship.

“You... you gave me your blood?!” You ask, delving further back into the river out of fear, the prospect of the freezing water is nothing compared to the demon who seems to have poisoned you long ago.

“What are you-”

“You gave me your blood. You used your sway to compel me into-into caring for a monster like you!”

His face falls at your accusation. “Is that how you truly view it then? You do in fact see me as a monster?”

“How else can I? Why else would someone like you carry those tools other than to harm? ”

Yoongi looks down, his lips tightening upon seeing your discovery. “Because you gave them to me!” He counters, to your shock and horror, allowing his forced confession to sink in for a moment before continuing in a more sombre tone. “If you feel that I influenced you poorly, for that I am deeply sorry. I thought, I hoped you might have seen it all differently. I had your blessing back then, but I can see that I was right to question my undue-influence on you.”  

“I’m not talking about your influence, but your blood, you used it to manipulate my thoughts and actions! If I gave you such things I was surely under your spell.”

“No, I would never intentionally force you to think a certain way! But your circumstances back then made you vulnerable, I fear they made you open to my persuasion, and to desire my good graces.” You stand there thigh deep in the river, frozen in place, as his words continue to challenge your perception and memory. “If you revoke your once good opinion of me I will not fault you for it. But I don’t know how else to remedy my mistakes other than to take you home. Can you please trust me long enough to do that?”

“I-” You begin, while trying to figure out where your answer will end, your head swimming with conflicting recollections of his blood, and kindness to you.

But your answer is halted by the sudden change in the vampire before you. Yoongi turns his head back to the line of trees his nose lifting before like it did when he caught the scent of the highwaymen. “Hunters, they’ve found us.”

A shiver passes over you, unrelated to the cold water. “You can smell them? Are they Taehyung’s?”

“No, not them per se, but the blood they are dressed in, and based on that...” He turns back to you, his expression fraught with worry as he points to the river. “Go in further and remain in there until it is safe to come out. They will not be able to fetch you if the river reaches past the leg of their mount. Promise me, whatever happens, whatever I say, whatever you hear, you will not leave until you are certain it is safe.”

You nod unable to verbalize your agreement. Your breath catches in your chest as you continue to lower yourself into the water's depths. The slow current comes to reach your waist, just before a mounted hunter and his much larger companion on foot break near the banks of the river.

“Agust,” the mounted hunter address Yoongi by his false persona, confirming your dread of who they serve. “Fancy meeting you here. We thought we smelled something sweet, but had not realized you would be attempting to collect it too. Since when do you capture live prey? I thought you dealt more in bottled goods.” He proceeds to laugh at his own words, while his fellow remains silent.

“This bounty is mine Thane.” Yoongi commands from the ground standing between you and them. His attention focused solely on the vampire with the stead, marking him as the superior of the two hunters in your eyes.

“Is it now?” He asks with an air of conceit. “It looks more like it���s just beyond your reach. Smart of her to use our weakness in such a way.”

“She’s just playing a game,” Yoongi mutters. “She won’t last long in there, the cold will send her out soon.”

You wish it wasn’t so, but there’s truth to his words, for you are unsure of how much longer you can bear the frigid temperatures. The chattering of your teeth brings further evidence to them that the chill has sunk deep into your skin.

“If she was so difficult to control why did you not give her your blood?” The larger of the two hunters asks.

“What, and taint the product with my own?” Yoongi spits back, looking offended that the hunter would suggest such practice. “I plan to take her back to Lord Taehyung, unspoiled, and alone.”

The lip of the leader, Thane, curls at Yoongi’s comment. “I do not think you will. She seems like more than you can handle.”

“Then you and your partner leave me to fetch a human who may breach the water’s banks.”

“No, you will come with me. Averill will stay and watch her.” Thane nods to the hulking vampire next to him.

“And leave my blood bounty with you? I think not.” Yoongi’s worry starts to cross into his voice, his wavering tone evident to even you. He stands down with a fake chuckle and proceeds to dismiss their presence by busying himself with the task of repacking the belongings you left out of the sack. “If you're not going to send for assistance leave me be, for I plan to wait as long as it takes to recollect her for his lordship.”

“And what will you do when the sun rises? You are not in a position to negotiate Agust. You should be glad that we are offering to even do you this favour. I hear the reward for this one is greater than any before. Lord Taehyung is offering an immediate position among his keepers to whomever can capture her.”

It becomes clear to you that they will not give in so easily, and Yoongi too pauses upon hearing this news. “Since you insist, I will go with you, but he does not make an attempt to touch her until we get back. If I find out you’ve tried to cross me-”

“He will stick to the shore of the river, until our return.” Thane looks to his companion who nods to confirm that he will abide to such terms.

Yoongi turns his back to them, the light of the moon granting a dim view of the concern on his face. He points one figure at the ground, what you can only only read as a supposed signal for you to stay, before mounting up and riding off with one of the hunters in the direction of his ally.

The vampire on the water's edge began to prowl back and forth, watching you with intrigue. “You look cold and tired my dear. You should come out, let’s not play this game any longer.”

“It’s not a game.” You mutter in response to the vampire.

A menacing grin takes hold of his face. “Of course it is, your kind consider hunting to be of sport, do they not?”

You turn your head and ignore his comment. Letting minutes pass with you in silence, until the vampire's pacing comes to a halt, and the smile has all but faded from his features.“Where the hell are they?”

Considering the torment his clan has brought you, you take great pleasure in seeing his frustration rise. “What’s wrong?” You tempt him, hoping that he might be foolish enough to try to reach you on his own. “Does the night wane too quickly for you? Is the vampire afraid of a little sunlight as well as running water? With so many weaknesses it’s a wonder you’ve survived.”

“There are still a few hours to go until sunrise human, I wouldn’t raise your hopes just yet. Because when I pull you from that river, I will show you just how well I survive. ” No sooner than the threat passes from his lips, a single horse rides back into view. Though to your terror it is not Yoongi’s stead, but Thane’s, with it’s rider wrapped his tattered and blood stained cloak. Your chest tightens and breathing stops, as you consider what might have happened to Yoongi. His absence brings grim thoughts to your mind regarding his fate, fearing what kind of situation he must be in to prevent his return.

Looking downriver with a choked sob, you contemplate your only escape with Yoongi now gone, ready to take the current to its end, or yours.

The imposing vampire that was left with you calls out to his ally. “What in the devil's name took you so long? I thought you were going to deal with Agust, and bring back someone who could assist? I see no humans!”

Thane doesn’t answer out loud. After dismounting he pulls his cloak tighter, and approaches his friend, leaning in to talk to him. It’s not until a stake pierces Averill’s chest that you see the true face of the rider. Painted with blood from, and contempt for, the being he just slaughtered.

A sense of déjà vu grips you once again, and refuses to let go. You’ve witnessed something like this before, so many years ago. Another memory starts to resurface, another vampire slaying much like this, both executed by the hand of... “Yoongi?!”

...

-10 years ago -

Just a few hours outside of the palace walls, that is all you desire. Dressed in your lady’s maid’s change of clothes you go in search of the sights outside. Hoping to find something unfamiliar and new. After hearing the very maid you ‘borrowed’ the clothes from, discuss the bakery, the public houses, the marketplace, and more. You could no longer hold back your curiosity. Your books and maps are not enough to quell your taste for adventure, your eyes seek to explore the areas that the tomes in your library fail to touch. And since it all resides on the crown's land, surely you have a duty to study it?

As much as you would have preferred to go out in the day, the cover of darkness is so much easier to slip out under. No one should look twice at a person your attire, and you yourself are not expected to be anywhere else other than bed.

Unfortunately that means the bakery is closed and the market packed up. The only place warmed with light and presence is the tavern, but you know it would be foolish to go in there. For you have no coin on hand for a meal, and are far too young to have any other sensible reason for entrance.

Despite your first expedition not being everything you wanted, it only makes you determined to plan better for your next. After two hours pacing the streets, looking for sites of interest, you consider heading back. You turn to face the direction you had just travelled and look for another route home, not wishing to view only the same roads as before. Travelling one side street and another, though you soon make an error and find a dead end greeting you on the third.

Turning about, you double back, but fail to notice the slick pile of refuse, which sends you falling forward. Your hands reach out to stop your face colliding into the cobblestones, while the rest of your body flattens painfully in your tumble.

Following the shock of your plummet you take a moment to inspect your well-being from the ground. You curse your foolish inattention when you find your palms coated in mud, and stinging with scrapes. Resulting in a small amount of blood, beading on the surface of your skin.

A man dressed in a long cloak and hood from the nearby road turns into the alley and encroaches upon your, no doubt pathetic looking form. You thought he might be there to offer his assistance after such a fall, but he only looks down upon you with a hunched posture.

“Well aren’t you a rare breed. Surely you are not from these parts, or I would have found you before.” His sinister words immediately put you on your guard, after giving you the impression that you are something to be collected rather than aided.  

“I’m sorry sir but you are mistaken.” You ascend from your knees and brush yourself off, seeking to flee his uncomfortable presence, but the stranger blocks your path. With an outstretched arm, his hand rests against the wall, taking up the entire width of the alley. The lower half of the man’s face peaks out from beneath his hood, only to show his tongue darting out to wet his lips. You clench your jaw and stand firm, attempting to give him reason to reconsider preying on one such as yourself. “I hail from here, and my family expects my return soon. Now let me pass.”

“I am not mistaken, I know a new and valued vintage when I smell it, and you are quite something...” He steps closer as you back away, continuing to cut off your escape by dragging his fingers along the stone wall. His stride resembles that of a predator, narrowing in on their presumed feast. You raise a hand in to signal for him to stop, but he merely gives it a keen stare.

“Did you hurt your hands my dear? Here let me take a look.” He reaches out with his own taloned hand, his long fingers ending with sharpened nails. “I can help heal them right up for you.”

“Thank you sir, but I would rather just go home and tend to them myself.” You give one last plea, one last appeal to his humanity. Fearing that his next action against you will be truly monstrous.

“It will take only a moment, and I promise,” the fabric of his hood falls back to reveal his feral face with pointed teeth, “You won’t remember a thing.”

He grabs your hand, pulling it to his mouth. You try to tug it back, but his grip is like none you’ve felt, so firm that even the strongest pull you can muster has no impact on him. Even a push to his chest from your other fist does not disturb him. You close your eyes waiting for the pain of his strike but there’s nothing of the sort. Only a soft grip on your wrist for a second and your hand is released. You open your eyes back up in hesitation, to find your attacker pinned against the wall by another.

“We do not feed on children! Have you forgotten our clan’s law?”

“Yoongi, I’m sorry sir you’re right. But you must understand, you must smell how sweet her blood is. Do you not find it as tempting as I?”

“We do not feed on children.” The newcomer reiterates his tone drawing into a low growl.

“Surely she is not so young that you cannot make an exception this once? No one else in the clan has to know sir, it’s just us here. I’ll even share her with you.”

There’s a swift flash of movement and the second has impaled the first through the chest with a wooden stake. The predator who cornered you looks on him with shock before slumping down the side of the wall, leaving a strip of blood in his wake.

You stare into the vial stranger’s blank eyes, unable to quell the worry that he might still launch an attack on you. “Is-is he, is it-” You manage to stutter out, as you battle your nerves, deeply shaken, but increasingly grateful for the intervention of the one before you.

“He’s dead.” The vanquisher tends to the cast-off on his coat and skin, brushing his hand over the crimson stains while he addresses you. “You should run along princess, it’s not safe for you to wander about at night.”

“You-you know who I am?”

“I’ve come across your scent before, it was just after one of your family’s gallant displays of authority.” You tilt your head confused by what he could mean. He takes in your bewilderment and explains further. “One of the royal processions, I spotted you just after dusk when you returned to the castle some years ago. Your aroma is not one my kind would forget.”

“Your kind, what do you mean your kind? What was he?”

“A weak willed monster who feeds on blood, and hunts by night. He is not alone out there, so you should stay very far away from the darkened streets.”

“But you are not like him.”

“I swear to you, he and I are the same.” The man comes towards you lowering himself on one knee and baring his fangs. “He is a vampire, and so am I.”

You don’t turn away but look at them with curiosity. His brow furrows as you move in closer. “And what of your name?” You ask, desperate to know more about him, for his appearance, his very existence, has certainly become the most intriguing part of your night .

“You don’t need-”

“But I would like it.”

“Yoongi. I go by Yoongi,” he mutters, looking taken aback once again. “May I?” He extends his hand for yours. You give it to him with little hesitation, wincing as his thumb brushes the mud away. He pauses upon noticing your discomfort and extends an offer to you. “If I take away this pain, will you promise to go straight home?”

You nod back, wondering how he could offer such a thing. He bites his hand before taking your own, rubbing the blood over the scrapes. And to you surprise, the cuts vanish before your eyes, the skin forming back together as though your fall never happened. Regardless if this being thinks he is a monster or otherwise, it’s apparent a miracle cure flows through his veins. Your brother's condition jumps to the forefront of your mind. “You can heal wounds? Cuts and contusions too?”

“I can.” His answers with a raised eyebrow.

“So you could help my brother?”

“Your brother, what of him?”

“He has an illness. My parents don’t want to spread word of his condition, but whenever he gets hurt, he bruises and bleeds without end. You can save him, right?”

“I cannot assist your brother.” He rises from his knee and proceeds to drag the body of the former vampire deeper into the shadows, all while continuing to answer your request. “Making myself even known to you goes against the wishes of my clan. I should wipe your memories, but if I do, I fear you’ll forget the danger and return here once again.”  

“Please! He needs your help.” You beg, hoping that he’d agree to be your salvation once again.

The self proclaimed monster looks at you, while tugging the stake from the chest of the corpse. Meeting your eyes when you refuse to look away from him or the gruesome sight. “If you swear to stay within the walls of your castle and tell not a soul... I will see what I can do.”

You lead him back to your home, the vampire following a few paces behind. Returning to the passage hidden in the roots of the hedge, the trap door beneath the flora, from which you ventured out earlier tonight. You open it stepping in first. Your companion stops as if being held back by some invisible force. “I need your permission to enter.”

“Why?”

“Consider it a courteous limitation of my race. Now do you want me to heal your brother or not?”

“Yes, you may come in.”

Lighting the lantern you left for yourself at the entrance, you lead him through the dark tunnel beneath the castle.

“What is this place used for? I can’t imagine anyone ventures down here much.” He remarks brushing away cobwebs that stretch across the path.

“It is an escape tunnel, to ensure the safety of the royal line. Only my immediate family knows of it. If there were to be danger we could flee down here and leave the grounds. And no, they do not visit here, only I come down myself when I wish to hide away.” The hidden offshoot of the cellar is ample space for you, and far less restrictive than the palace above ground.

You climb a set of stairs ending in a door which returns you to the halls of the castle, the entrance to the secret route concealed behind a painting of a king who came long before. Peeking out into the corridor you find it clear of guardsmen and servants, and doing the same again at your brother’s door.

The physicians and surgeons had left him for the night, which allows for Yoongi to slip in behind you. He checks over your sleeping brother, paying close attention to both the recent injury to his knee and the incision on the inside of his elbow. “Why was this made?” He points to the latter. “It’s too clean to be an accident.”

“Bloodletting, they bleed him regularly to dispose of the weakened blood.”

“Weakened Blood?” Yoongi shakes his head as he reopens the spot on his hand, spreading his blood over your brother's wounds. They close up with the skin returning to its normal state and hue. “I hadn’t realized that surgeons practiced such things. If you want to keep him alive don’t let them bleed him anymore. Come to think of it...” He examines the tools of their trade, and roles up the leather pouch in which they are contained. “May I borrow these? I might have a use for them.”

“Take them, please.” You urge, breathing a sigh of relief. It’s a shock to see your brother's condition, which has plagued your family since his birth, so easily remedied with Yoongi's help. But the worry over the uncertain future still holds. “What if it happens again? How will I find you if I shouldn’t leave the castle?”

“You said few know of the cavern below? I’m in need of somewhere safe to rest during the day when I come to town, that spot will do. If I have your consent to use it?”

...

It’s been a couple weeks since your first meeting. The vampire, Yoongi has grown more comfortable within the tunnel beneath, and far less hesitant around you. You’ve learned so much about him, and his shrouded kin, both the good and the bad.  

He lays back against the stonewall his eyes closed in satisfaction. Far different from the first few  times you met him. “You look... more relaxed.”

He keeps his eyes closed as he gives you his answer, “I had the ability to address some of my needs I’ve been neglecting. I’ve been able to feed on a far more frequent basis.”

“Oh...” You exclaim, not knowing how to comment further on the topic.

One of his eyes opens to peek at you while he remains at rest. “Does that scare you? Do you fear me now?” He chuckles darkly.

You respond with a quick and decisive, “No.” Catching the vampire by surprise judging from his tongue in cheek and open mouth.

“And why is that?”

“If you took no issue with human suffering you wouldn’t have saved me. You wouldn’t have saved my brother. Did you bring pain to the person you feed on?”

 Yoongi scoffs, his tongue still rolling in his cheek as he looks to the floor. “No, I did not. And I have you to thank for that.”

“How did I help?” You ask in utter bewilderment. The two of you have never discussed his own meals before.

“When a vampire feeds they don’t often care about the damage they cause, they can make their prey forget they ever saw them, becoming nothing more than a bad dream. I have been struggling with this way of life for a while now. But you, you gave me another method to feed, and for that I am eternally in your debt.”

“I still don’t understand.”

“I know,” he chuckles back. “I’ll show you one day. When I can be certain it is safe to do so.”

...

A month later, Yoongi sneaks into your room in the dead of night, waking you from your slumber.

“Wh-what’s wrong?” You ask with slurred words as you rub your eyes.

“Nothing, nothing, but I’m ready to show you. Dress in what you wore when we met. We can’t have anyone recognizing you.”

You bolt up out of bed and dash over to your desk. Yoongi watches as you tug out the false bottom you created in one of the drawers that hides the cotton-spun dress from sight.  

“You appear to be well versed in the art of hiding secrets princess,” Yoongi laughs, as he examines the panel.

“When every eye in the household seeks to critique you, you find ways to hide your less-than-amiable indulgences.”

“And is that what this is?” The vampire holds up a book of cartographic exploration also stored in the secret nook of the drawer. “An indulgence?”

You take the tome in question from his hand and return it to the drawer, replacing the panel to conceal it. “For a situation like my own it is.”

After changing into the plain garment Yoongi takes you from the castle, bringing only the leather roll of surgical instruments you had given him. He doesn’t take you far, a house, located only a five minute walk beyond the gates of your castle. “Are you sure you want to see this?” He asks as his fist hangs above the door.

You nod, curious as to how he’s been feeding himself.

“Very well, if anyone asks you are my assistant.”

“Assistant for what?”

He answers only with a wide grin as he knocks. The door opens a fraction, by the hands of a startled woman, whom Yoongi is quick to greet. “Sorry to intrude, and so late too. I heard you might be in need of a surgeon?”

“W-we can’t pay,” she croaks back, and attempts to close the door, but Yoongi stops it by placing the leather case in the gap.

“I require no monetary payment. My services have already been covered.”

“By who?” The woman is sceptical, and rightly so. Based on your experience with your brother’s past needs, you know a surgeon’s fee to be no small price.

“The daughter of the crown.”

“The crown? But why would she-”

“Because there are those in this kingdom in need of my assistance. I’m sure you’ve noticed the rapid recovery of your neighbour just a few doors down.”

Her eyes widen, lighting with hope. “The surgeon was you?”

“It was.” He answers with a closed lip smile.

The resident looks from Yoongi to you, her gaze lingers for a second on your appearance, before opening the door further. “You may come in.” She takes you to a small residence, her hands trembling as she escorts you into a nearby bedroom.

The stench of a sickly-sweet rot overpowers your nose the moment you step into the room. You cover your mouth in an attempt to keep down your rising dinner, while Yoongi goes to the aid of an unconscious man laying in bed. A deep and putrid gash extends from the inside of his thumb to his wrist.

“Another surgeon said he might need to take the hand... it’s not so bad is it?” Her voice quakes. “My husband won't be able to work if he loses it.”

“No, he’ll keep it.” Yoongi states, as he lifts a ceramic bowl, notched at the rim, from the bedside table and props the wounded man’s arm over it. Several small cuts already adorn the weak skin at the crease of his elbow joint. “I take it you've bled him regularly?”

The wife nods. “Yes, but we ran out of money. I couldn’t afford to have anyone else continue the bleeding. So I attempted it myself.” She looks down at the floor in shame, clearly upset that she had not been able to help her own husband.

“He will be well again. I promise I can heal this.” He assures her, before turning to you. “Can you hold these for me?” Passing you the same tools you gave him just months before. You unravel the leather pouch. Exposing the sharp tools for his selection, his slender fingers choose one of the smaller blades to make the incision. As the scarlet fluid drains, Yoongi calls for fresh linen and the wife leaves the room in search of his needs.  

The second she is out of sight, you start to question the vampire. “Bloodletting? But I thought you said-”

“It’s both a cover, and an exchange. He gives me his, and I’ll give him mine. I must thank you for the tools, they’ve been very helpful in keeping up the disguise. But do you think you can keep her out? I can’t let her see this next part, the improvement to his hand will be too drastic and too quick for her not to suspect a mystical source.” Yoongi requests as he breaks the seal on a bottle filled with thick crimson fluid. Pouring out a drop he rubs his blood onto the festering wound of his subject's hand.

You nod, watching the two sides of the laceration seal together, leaving only a clean scar. When the wife returns with a knock at the door, you take the material and ask her to wait there. Thankfully she obeys without much resistance, taking a seat just outside the room, her eyelids drooping from exhaustion, and her skin slick with the sweat of worry.

You hand over the linen to Yoongi who wraps it around the previously infected area. The man, much to your concern, remains unconscious. “Will he wake soon?”

“It might take some time, but yes. He still has a fever, but that should break in the next couple of hours with the infection gone.”

“And that?” You nod to the basin of blood.

“That, I will keep for myself.” Yoongi finishes wrapping the man’s hand before taking a wine skin from his coat, carefully pouring the viscous fluid into the flask, and taking every drop.

“It won’t affect you adversely even though he was ill when he gave it?”

“No, his ailment won’t harm me.” Taking a draft as if to prove his point, he wrinkles his nose as it goes down, and licks his lips clean to hide the evidence of his feast. “The taste isn’t always perfect, but it fills my needs, and it’s far better than the alternative.”

Yoongi passes off the patient’s care to his wife and warns her not to remove the bandages for several days. A continuation of his ploy to maintain that his methods have a more realistic recovery rate.

After returning you to the passage of the castle shortly before dawn, Yoongi looks to be apprehensive, wringing his hands as he bids you farewell for the day. “Seeing that... taking part in it wasn’t disturbing to you? You do not think it malicious for me to lie and profit in such a way?”

“No, not at all.” You shake your head, and beam at the vampire before you. “I was pleased that you showed me.”

“I owe my thanks to you,” he whispers, as a smile starts to cross his own features.

“But I did nothing.”

“You gave me the idea. I was not aware, nor did I think to benefit from such a human norm. I thought I was condemned to feed like a monster until the end. So as long as you approve, as long as you think it decent to conduct myself in this way, I will continue.”

“You’ve already helped us so much, how could I not? You are the reason my brother is well again, the reason that man will continue to live and work. You are more a saviour than any being I’ve met before.”

...

You thought him a hero in your past. Every action had a valid reason, every motive morally sound. His store of blood, the surgical knives, every memory of his history with you is beyond reproach.

“Yoongi?”

The friend of your past, falls to his knees beside the body of the hunter. He raises a hand to his face to contain a cough, but even from your distance you can see scarlet sputtering from his lips and spilling down between his fingers.  

“Yoongi!” You wade through the water as quickly as you can. Reaching his side while he continues to expel blood. “What happened?”

“Powdered silver.” He sputters again spraying your drenched trousers and ground with scarlet. “The bastard asked for some of my drink. I obliged to maintain my cover, but I didn’t notice he poisoned it in the process, and then took a sip myself.”  Despite his state he proceeds to hastily shove the body of the vampire into the river, where it starts to burn and disintegrate in the current. “Don’t worry, much like this one, he is far worse off than I.” Yoongi chuckles darkly before doubling over in another fit.

“We need to get you somewhere safe to heal.” You take his shoulder and help him on to the stolen horse.

“Seokjin, he's waiting for my return. I left everything with him. Down the road,” he whispers as another clot of blood leaves his mouth. “You’ll find a stone house.”

Once he is mounted you take the spot behind him this time, in an attempt to keep him in the saddle. “Yes, I remember it now...”

...

- 9 years ago -

You’ve fallen into a routine, where every morning an hour before sunrise you wait in the underground passage to see if Yoongi will show. It’s been over a week since he’s visited last. In the year you’ve known him he has never stuck to a schedule, his visits are random but frequent. You pass the time waiting with a travel log of a famous explorer, and an atlas for reference, studying the map and marking his trek as you pass through the pages. Cartography has long become a hobby of yours, much to the disappointment of your mother, she deemed such interests as unladylike forcing you to hide your activities. Though your hands stained with ink from your nightly studies, have betrayed you on more than one occasion.

The trap door to the outside opens, revealing your long awaited friend. “Yoongi!” You run and pull him into a hug. When you allowed him to rest here and tend to your brother as needed, you never thought that he would become your salvation too, your craved glimpse into the outside world which you have long since been denied. “You said you’d only be gone a few days!”

“I know forgive me princess, something came up. The travel back was slower than expected.”

“Were you able to do what I requested?”

“I was.” He pulls out several pages you had torn from your atlas marking them with details important to those of his kind. “Excuse my penmanship. It’s not as practiced as it once was.”

Dismissing his concerns with a wave of your hand you peer down at the sheets eager to see the world from his eyes, starting with the details closest to your own home. “Who is Seokjin?” You ask pointing to a dark spot labelled ‘Seokjin’s Post’ less than a day's ride away.

“I see you waste no time.” Yoongi smiles at your enthusiasm. “A member of my clan, a keeper, one who is stationed at a waypoint for ease of travel.”

“A keeper?” You ask unfamiliar with the vampiric title.

“One who has a claim to our land, and can give permission to other vampires to enter. It’s an honour to be trusted with such a responsibility.”

“Are you a keeper?”

“A form of keeper, yes, I share claim to the main stronghold with our clan’s lord. It took me near a quarter century as a clan hunter to be given permission to even enter, and three times as long to gain my current status. It is a prestigious role, but also a double edged sword, for it also is what keeps me away.”

“I should like to see it.”

“My clan’s fortress? No, I will never take you there, your scent could plunge the whole estate into chaos.”

You frown at the inability to visit his station, but continue to search the map. Finding another castle marked much like his own out to the west. “What of this one? ‘Lord Taehyung’s Fortress,’ you have never spoken of him.”

Yoongi goes rigid as he hovers over the mapped sheets with you. “I have not, for he is of a different clan, with far darker ambitions than our own. I choose to mark it as a warning and a place to avoid. If you should ever hear of or be near someone in his service, run. Run as far and fast as you can.”

You swallow any further questions regarding the rival clan, uneased by Yoongi’s words. Changing the subject again to learn more of your confidant and friend. “Where did you come from if you have not always resided with your clan.”

Yoongi forgoes the sheets you have given him of the surrounding area, taking the atlas out of your hands, he flips the pages to a wider view of the land. “I come from out here.” Pointing to an area not on the page, but to the right of the book, far more east than the last recorded city.

“Off map? Could we visit your old home instead?” You ask, your excitement bubbling to the surface.

“No it is far more than a night’s journey away, making it too long of a trek for you. It would take months on foot, and even if we were to make it, I doubt there would be much left, for the hearth kept by my family grew cold long ago.”

“I would like to see the area at the very least. We could get a horse. Money is no object, I have-”

“Princess, even still, your absence would be noticed. You cannot just disappear for weeks on end and return when you please. You would lose your home, your own station.”

“What if I told you that I don’t want to be a princess. That my dream is to leave this castle, and find an adventure with you.”

...

- 5 ½ years ago -

For years this disagreement raged between you both, with you desiring to leave, and him insisting you must stay. His return is always a bright moment, but your partings always cast a dark shadow when he once again embarks alone. Existence without him in the kingdom is so cold and rigid, to the point where you’ve come to rely on his visits to breathe life back into you, needing his company to live as much as your brother needs his blood. To your dismay the length between each of his appearances grows longer. Though his apologies still accompany him each time you must wait beyond his promised return.

“I told you, you should invest in a horse.” You mutter as you cling to him, greeting him with your usual hug the second he slips into the underground tunnel.

His hand draws across your back soothing you with his presence. “And I’ve told you I don’t need one for myself alone.”

“Then you will get one when we leave together?” You ask, pulling away looking up with hopeful eyes.

“Princess...” He growls as you once again bring up the dreaded topic.

“We need to talk about this Yoongi. We can’t go on like this forever.”

“No, but how is your brother? What would happen if you left?” Yoongi asks, setting up his bed roll for you both to sit on. He never leaves anything behind out of concern that someone in your family will find it while he’s away. Requiring him to get re-situated upon every return.

“He is well...” Your statement trails off unable to make a further valid argument regarding his situation.

“But that could change in an instant. And if you’re not here-”

“I might not be here much longer anyway!” Your statement hangs in the air between you both.

His face reads only of confusion, with his mouth hanging open as he attempts several false starts to respond. “Wh-What do you mean?”

You take your seat next to Yoongi determined to make him see it your way this time. There has been something weighing on you, feelings that you’ve found difficult to approach, but if you don’t say it now you worry you’ll never get to. “I am eighteen Yoongi, and well of age to marry. There have been suggestions of prospects and matches. I’ve tried delaying them but I know I will not stay in this castle much longer either way.”

His eyes darken and brows furrow. “I suppose congratulations are in order then.” His words in no way match his expression.

“No, they are not! I don’t want that life, I’ve told you this before. I have no wish to leave this castle only to become locked in another. You know that is what will happen! Any union made will be to benefit the kingdom in an alliance, they will have their own expectations, their own walls I cannot cross.”

“Maybe that is for the best though. You will live the life you were intended, saving you from a life with a monst-”

“You are not a monster Yoongi, I do not need saving from you!”

“If not from me, then at least from my kind. I cannot give you the life nor the safety which lies here, or in another castle with your own kind. A life alongside a vampire will not have a happy end.”

“And what of a life without living one’s dream? Without the one you’ve come to admire and befriend. Can that have a happy end? Would it not bother you to yield me to another who is not as kind, nor caring as you? Yoongi, I lo-”

Yoongi emits a low growl halting your argument and paramount confession. “I profess I would loathe to lose you too, but dreams and desires change. I do not wish for you to regret your path with me as I once regretted choosing this life too. If it weren’t for you... ” His voice trails off as he hangs his head in shame. “I could not bear to see you suffer knowing I brought you the pain which haunted me for years. The loss of a family, of a home, I do not wish for you to endure the same.”

“Then what would convince you? What will show you I am truly earnest in my desire?” You ask hoping to find the answer to not only show your determination to leave, but your true feelings for him too.

He pauses the discussion, getting up to pace the room. His fingers run through his hair as he ponders your query. “I don’t want you forced into this because of circumstances beyond your control...” He stops his stride mid thought, and glances to you.“I can still supply your brother with blood if you choose to marry, and leave my side. Now in having that safety I need to know that you’ve given this consideration more time. Without the weight of your brother's life hanging over you.”

“It has been all I’ve wanted these past few years, to leave this place with you.”

“But first I need you to give this life the honest chance without my presence. I will leave you with enough of my blood for the time I’m gone. Though we should discuss who you will entrust to take care of him if you are in another castle, or with me.”

“My lady’s maid.” You suggest, for you know she loves him as much as you, though she tries to keep it concealed. “I would trust his life to her, but how long do you plan to stay away?”

“My clan intends to launch a wave of hunters into rival territory, it’s the best chance we have to take down Taehyung’s stronghold.” Yoongi explains while returning to the seat next to you. “If we can do this before you wish to leave then I will be as far greater ease to take you from here, but knowing that they are out there now worries me when it comes to your safety.”

“How long Yoongi?” You reiterate, scared by his avoidance of your question.

“Six months.”

“But that’s such a long time!”

“If you want to leave with me you will have to endure it, but I wish for you to take this time and consider your options. Don’t close every door yet, simply because of how you feel now.”

You inch closer to him, “My answer will be the same half a year from now. I want you to take me will you.”

“Nevertheless, I would like to wait, and hear it again upon my return.”

“I will do as you ask, but after that wait, I expect you to be ready for me to leave alongside you. We’ll need a travel plan, supplies, and a decent horse too.”

“Whatever you require, I will have. I’ll even let you name the stead.” Yoongi promises with a smirk. Taking the glass vial of blood he uses on his patients from his coat, he gives it to you. Cupping your hands as you take it from him, he leans in, putting his lips enticingly close to your own. “I’ll be back for your final answer, just please think it over. I will bear you no ill will if you decide...” He pauses, a grimace weighing heavy on his expression. “If you decide, you would be better off if you forgot me entirely, and moved on with your life.”

“I would never wish to forget you.” You give another thought to confessing further, telling him how much you’ve grown to love him. How you crave more than just to leave with him. Wishing to close the gap between you and seal your deal with a kiss. But despite your determination to confess to him earlier, you hold your tongue and lips in place. Suspecting that he will dismiss those desires too. When he returns, you reason with yourself, putting it off for a little longer. Yes, then you will express it all to him.

...

Just as Yoongi said, further down the road and nestled between the trees, there resides a small stone house. Had you not been looking for it, you might have missed it entirely. You stop with a pull of the reins, sliding down from the saddle you tie the horse to an outdoor post, and proceed to help the increasingly catatonic vampire with his own dismount.  Propping one of his arms over your shoulder you approach the dwelling and hammer on the door.

A booming voice responds from the other side. “It damn well took you long enough!” It opens to reveal a tall man draped in a spattering of blood, extending from his broad shoulders to the small of his waist. He curses upon the sight of you and the barely conscious Yoongi on your shoulder. “I told him he wasn’t well enough to return to you alone.”

He looks human at first glance but a small chuckle reveals pointed teeth hidden by his set of full lips. “‘I must do this Seokjin,’” The vampire utters in his imitative tone of Yoongi. “‘Just look after this one’s body for me.’ That is the last time I do you a favour. I swear I’ve never seen a vampire’s corpse so saturated with blood.... even ruined my favourite shirt.”

Seokjin takes Yoongi from you and calls out to another. “Namjoon? Come help me with this determined fool and his human princess.”

You cringe from the unexpected use of your title, but the vampire pays you no mind. Looking to his human partner who descends the stairs. Namjoon ushers you into their residence, looking troubled by the state of your soggy clothes.

Just as with the abandoned house from the night the windows have heavy shutters that close from the inside, most of which are currently open, letting in the night air. But this dwelling is thankfully well lit, with several lanterns bolted to the walls, a fire roaring off to the side, and an iron candelabra at the centre of a massive wooden table.

The vampires take the lead up the narrow wooden stairs, with you and Namjoon trailing behind. Gliding through an open door in the upper hall, Seokjin places your now fully unconscious companion on the bed of a well furnished room. He takes Yoongi’s tunic and tears it open, exposing a trail of burns down his throat and chest.

“I’ve never witnessed a silver poisoning to this extent. It’s a miracle he was able to still retrieve you.” Seokjin mutters.

Namjoon grabs a blanket from the cupboard, and wraps it around your damp shoulders, before attempting to take you from the room. “Come let's get you some dry clothes.”

But you stand firm and refuse to be parted from Yoongi. Concern grows within you over Seokjin’s statement. “Will he- will he recover?”

“Yes, but it’ll take time. Though if he feeds soon, his injuries will heal far quicker.”

“Do you have any blood on hand?” You ask on his behalf. “With his supply poisoned he has nothing else to drink.”

Seokjin’s eyes bore into you expectantly, a smile coming to the corner of his lips. “Am I not looking at his blood consort now? Has he not fed from you?”

You shake your head, backing away from Yoongi’s supposed ally.

He takes in your reaction with a tilt to his head. “That must have been a struggle for him, considered I’m using all my power to not feed from you now.”

Namjoon steps in between. “Let her be Seokjin, you know who she is, and where she’s been kept. She’s clearly scared to do so, I can spare-”

The smirk on the vampire’s face dies with the offer of his human. “You will do no such thing! Your blood is mine, and mine is yours is it not?”

“It is, however-”

“Then that is the end of this discussion. If she wishes to help him then she must make that sacrifice, not you.” The vampire pushes his human out of the room before he turns back to you. “If I were in your position I would heal him, and do so quickly... for he has given up far more for you than a few drops of blood.” Seokjin then shuts the door behind him, leaving you alone with Yoongi.

You pace back and forth at the foot of the bed, hugging your blanket close in comfort. When you consider feeding him, your anxiety starts to rise to an undesirable peak, with the feeling of your heart rising to your throat and pounding in your ears. Your mind can’t help but draw on the memories of Taehyung's feeding, but this instance is different, with you in control, and the one who requires blood is not a monster but your past saviour, and love.

You empty his bags on the desk provided in the room. Making one last effort to look for any additional store of blood that might have remained unpolluted. Finding nothing but clothes, and basic supplies, until the roll of surgical instruments hits the wooden surface with a dull thud. Left with no other option but the tools before you, you grow more determined to push down the horrors of your past. Doing it for the sake of Yoongi, and the returning portion of you who adores him so adamantly.

Freeing one of the knives, you take a deep breath, and slice along the partially opened scar on your hand. The pain takes control for a moment, forcing your jaw to clench and your breath to seethe between your teeth, as the sight of scarlet turns your stomach. But seeing Yoongi suffering brings your mind back to focus as the blood wells to the surface, creating a thick pool in your palm. You go to him and straddle his form taking his chin in one hand to open his mouth. You clench your ruby drenched fist and tilt it over him. The first drip hits Yoongi’s lip, the second entering his mouth. His eyes fly open, and a snarl leaves his throat. Reaching out he grabs your hand, not to draw it closer but to push it back towards you.

“You’ve spilled enough of your blood for my kind.” He whispers, his ache evident in the hoarseness of his tone.

“Seokjin said you needed it. Will you just take it.”

“No! I have no wish to become the next monster who haunts your dreams.”

“You won’t, I remember now. From my first time meeting you, all the way up to our parting. You did so much for me and my family. You were right in saying those you feed off of were not your victims, I saw how they suffered from illness and injury.” Your voice starts to quake as you force it all out, confining his depth of importance to you to a few small statements is no easy task. “I understand why you feared your influence over me in the past. But please, know now, I do not consider myself a casualty of yours. I give you my blood of my own free will.”

You offer your hand once again but Yoongi doesn’t move his narrow gaze giving the impression that his decision is final. “Very well.” You counter, as you cup your hand with your own, pressing down on the wound as you consider the already escaped blood. “It seems a shame to waste it though. Maybe your friend Seokjin will take it, he appeared to be interested.” You play your bluff, hoping to gain a rise out of him the way Seokjin claimed Namjoon.

Shifting your weight, you ready to leave, but Yoongi moves faster, pulling you down to lay beneath him. “Why must you be so stubborn?” He mutters as he places one hand gently over your eyes obstructing your view of him. “Please, if I am to do this don’t look. I don’t want you to remember me by this act.” His other hand takes your blood soaked palm in his grip before he finally presses his lips to the dripping wound.

The tug of his mouth on your skin is gentle lasting only for a few seconds. His tongue then starts to drift down the scarlet trails that lead across your fingers, licking every inch of your skin clean. His touch is soft and attentive, you find yourself enjoying his caress, forgetting entirely the purpose of his actions. But it’s soon brought to an end when a soft scrape of his fangs crosses your knuckles, with your immediate instinct to flinch, it incites him to draw back and apologize.

He removes himself from your hand, and turns to draw his own blood. When he goes to press it to your laceration he hesitates and gives you his assurance. “This will only heal it. Do you trust me to do that?”

You nod with a deep breath and clenched teeth, dreading this part most, you look away until the tingling sensation of the skin's repair stops. When your gaze returns to the spot you find it without flaw, for his blood had also erased the scar of Taehyung. Tears begin to prick the corner of your eyes .  

Yoongi wipes at the edge of his mouth taking away the dark remnants of your blood. “I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“No, quite the opposite. Thank you for taking it away.”

“I’m sorry you had to bear his marks for so long.” His lips kiss the newly healed skin of your hand before he lays down on the bed next to you. As much as he tries to hide it you can see that he’s still weary from the silver. Your fingers trace down the slowly fading burn of his throat, a rumble of contentment flowing from it as his eyes close.

Embracing the softness of the bed you were promised earlier, and far too weary to change out of your damp clothes you join him in sleep.

...

You rest for only a few hours with the sun starting to break across the horizon, shocked but grateful that no appearance of Taehyung brought halt to your peaceful slumber. Rising to close the shutters to the light, you leave Yoongi to his sleep.

You open the door a slight amount, checking to see if anyone else is about, when you find a form of kindness you had not expected on the floor in front of your room. It would seem that Namjoon must have brought food while you slept, a small collection of bread, cured meat, and fruit awaits you along with the clothes he promised. Though your current outfit is now dry, you take the fresh garments inside for a later change before you depart in the evening. The food however, barely lasts a few minutes in your presence. For you indulge hastily on the wonderful meal as you sit at the rather cluttered desk.

Naturally, the mess you made earlier in the night still remains, the contents of Yoongi bags strewn over the desk and floor. Once finished with your plate, you start to pack the clothes and supplies all away again until there are only a few items left, including a piece of folded parchment lying in the corner. You flatten it out across the surface of the workspace, reuniting yourself with Yoongi’s map.

Of course, it wasn’t always his. No, this was the map that you had made from the fragments and pages he recorded. It was intended to be a gift for him upon his return after those long six months apart. Every stroke of the pen, every hour, and every drop of ink which bled into this creation brought you so much joy. But you also remember the sorrow that led to the error, the blotch left while trying to conceal the map before the ink had set.

...

-5 years ago-

It has been seven months since Yoongi’s departure, with no whisper or hint to his whereabouts. The blood supply he had given you was fully consumed in the past fortnight. You assure your lady’s maid, whom you imparted with the knowledge of the cure, that your friend will return soon. But still you wait for him, while putting the finishing touches to the map in the form of an ornate compass rose.

With the final mark of ink in place, your mother bursts into your room, consumed by a wealth of tears. You fold the map in haste, and tuck it under a book. Thankful that she is too distraught to realize that you should be in bed and not at your desk, but the news she shares gives grave reason to her oversight. Your brother had fallen from his own earlier in the night, causing a lesion to the back of his head. Without the aid of your vampire, you know it to be a likely death sentence.

Come near dawn, you wait in the hidden passage, praying for Yoongi to show. But when the sun comes to rise without his presence, you can only hope that your brother will survive this day without the medicine he’s grown so dependent on. However, as night falls, his health worsens, and the physicians resort to bleeding him again. You try to stop them, but that only results in you being banished from his room.

With no other options left, in the late hours of night, you don another of your maid’s old dresses, tugging it out from your hiding spot, and replacing it with the finished map which now bears an unfortunate scar. Taking your usual path you escape to the town of your kingdom. Your plan, to pace every street until you find him, or another who might know of his whereabouts.  

...

Your memory fails to pass the darkened cobblestone roads which frame your search. Leaving you to conclude that was when you were found by your capture of these past five years. Yoongi was right, the open night is dangerous for one such as yourself, even so he left you with little choice, he broke his promise first.

There’s a creak from the bed behind you, but you keep your focus forward on the map, still trying to piece it all together. Until two hands wrap around your waist and Yoongi’s chin comes to rest on your shoulder.

“You said you would come back.” You remain still in his arms, scolding the vampire with tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “Why didn’t you return to me as promised.”

Yoongi turns you around to face him, raising your chin with his finger. “You remember our arrangement?” You nod your response, refusing to meet his gaze, until he lowers his own head in disappointment. “There were... difficulties. I know it does not excuse my broken oath in full, but I was prevented from going to you.” He sits you back down in the desk chair and kneels before you, taking your hand in his. “Taehyung had found the hunters we were attempting to embed in his ranks. He dealt us a swift blow with their deaths, and then sent his men east, towards our fortress, and your kingdom. The keepers, such as myself, were ordered by our own lord to remain within the walls of our residences, out of concern that we might be captured and lured into giving Taehyung's clan access.”

“Then you should have sent word of your delay!” You cut in, had you known this you never would have left to find him.

“I did. I wrote a letter and sent it by raven, telling you to stay within the castle walls no matter what. That it was far too dangerous for you on the outside, and my return would be a longer wait. But I received no reply. I thought then that you did not want to hear from me, that you had chosen a different path. It was weeks before my raven returned badly injured. I feared then that my warning might have gone astray.” He sighs, as continues to recount  the dark narrative. “I couldn’t remain a willing captive of my own home when I know you might be in danger. So I renounced my title, I gave away my claim and access to the stronghold. Lowering myself to the status of clan hunter so I could leave and find you. But I was too late, you were already gone and well beyond my reach. I searched your room looking for any clues as to how you ended up in his hands. I found no dress, and only that in your drawer.” He nods over to the map.

“I have spent the past five years trying to correct my mistake of not going to you sooner, for not leaving with you when you asked. But when I found you again, without your memories, I had no way of knowing the choices you made or any feelings you had previous to your captivity. I kept our past from you so as to not impact your previous decisions with my own desires. If you thought me to be a monster who groomed you for my own needs, I would back away. If you were just catering to me to save the life of your brother, I wanted you to be free of that.”  His hand comes to the side of your face, with a finger dotting at a tear that had fallen from the corner of your eye. “I’m aware I don't deserve it, but please I must know. What was your decision before I let you down so horrifically, what was it that led you to be in his custody?”

“I never felt pushed to stay by you because of my brother's condition. I had no wish to marry nor leave with another, it was never simply about journeying outside the castle for an adventure. I wanted to be with you. Those six months we spent apart only confirmed what I did not wish to tell you out of worry you might dismiss those feelings too. I loved you, and still do.”

Yoongi chokes out a wavering sigh of relief, lowering your head by his hand, he presses his forehead to yours. “And I you, your highness. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I didn’t listen. I just didn’t want to unknowingly imprison you by my side with-without-”

“I know.” You whisper back. “You were right to be concerned, I was young and sheltered. I do not blame you for what happened. When the blood ran out, I could wait no longer. I had to find you. I went into the town but that is the last I remember.”

“And there you were taken.” Yoongi pulls back pausing as he bites his lip. “Now that you remember. Has your desire to return home changed?”

“I-I don’t think it can Yoongi. I still have so many gaps in my past. I hope that my return will mend that, as my time with you has brought light to our own history. Despite that, even if I was whole, the loss of my brother, it-it complicates things.”

“Your kingdom needs you to have an heir, a son to maintain the line of the crown.” He swallows glumly, as you reach out to clutch his hand. “Something that I cannot give you.”      

“When my duty was just for the sake of pleasantries between kingdoms I could find it within reason to leave, but now, the kingdom’s people, the ones you’ve helped to save are at stake.”

Yoongi gives you a solemn nod. “At least now you can be certain you will not be sent away.”

“Once I return home...” You pull back, folding your hands on your lap, fidgeting while you ask the next important question of him.  “Will you plan to stay nearby like before? You will not leave me alone again will you?”

“I must. With my lower position now, I will likely be sent back into Taehyung’s land again. Though I will be glad of it, for I can not stay still while he is still hunting, and risk you falling prey to him again. And for the sake of our attachment I feel that our parting would be easier on the both of us. Especially since it will not be long before you are asked to-”

“Marry?” You let out a deep breath of air in an attempt to dispel the building weight in your chest. Is he right to think that upon your return you’ll be bound to another so soon? You hope that there would be time to find yourself again, to re-educate your mind into what it was before. But how long will that take and how patient will your parents be without the line of succession secured. You can only hope any man who is chosen will be... will be, “Though I wish it to be you who remains by my side, if my future husband has half the character of you I should be so lucky.”

“Do not say that.” His voice cracks with his hushed plea.

“Why not?”

He stands up before you, pulling you from your seat, and tucking you into his chest. He holds you there while with one hand to your back, and the fingers of the other rooting amongst your hair. He breathes in deeply, whispering the challenges to his choice. “Because it’ll make leaving you so much harder. You made my cursed existence not only bearable, but desirable. When I consider the possibility of spending my life, with the one who gave me purpose, who saw me not as a monster but as a salvation, who I came to love more than I thought possible.” Yoongi lifts your head again, directing you to look up at him. “An eternity with you, is the greatest temptation of all.”

You reach up to take his face in your hands, delivering a solemn kiss to his lips before pulling away.“If we can not have eternity, what of one moment within it? One final memory together to help us through the time we must spend apart. Can you give me that? Can you give me yourself?”

Yoongi’s mouth comes down to you in search of another, the wave of passion in his approach is so much stronger and forceful than your own. His tongue, endeavouring to taste you in a far different manner than hours ago. “You already have me, my blood, my life, my love, it’s all yours.”

He picks you up and returns you to the bed with him, tugging off his oversized shirt, while you remove your own. His mouth seeks out your neck, your collarbone, and downward soon finding the peaks of your chest. He’s soft and careful not to leave a mark as his lips tug gently on your skin. With each graze of his tongue he insights an inadvertent reaction from you, in the form of a moan or twitch. As your fingers tangle in his locks, his eyes gazing up to look for your expression. “Are you sure you wish to continue?”

You lower your hand to his face, dragging your fingers across his cheek and lips. “Yes, I can’t tell you how much I desire a memory like this.”

He stands to remove your pants before lowering back down to hover over you on his hands and knees, straddling you as you lay on the feathered mattress. His fingers trail down the side of your chest, your waist, you hip, before moving inward to reach between your folds. You inhale with the first touch of his fingers to your slit. As his index starts to stroke from the inside, his thumb circles your clit. Forcing you to groan into his mouth which comes down again to cover yours.

Once he appears satisfied with the wetness pooling around his digits. He pulls out and takes his finger to his mouth with a hungry moan. Cursing as it slips out from his lips.

Your face heats up, embarrassed by his reaction. “Surely you are making too much fuss over it.”

“You think I don’t find you enjoyable? That I can’t see, feel or taste how divine you are?”

You grin, taking pleasure words despite their boastful nature. “Divine? No, you are just too kind to say otherwise.”

“Then allow me to prove you wrong.” Yoongi smirks, adjusting to take his place between your legs.

“What do you intend to-” He answers your question before you can finish, his mouth latching firmly onto your cunt. Your words lost as he takes in a long draft, his tongue playing along darts inside of you before shifting up to tease your most sensitive spot. When paired with his fingers, which once again come to stretch your inside, you do not stand more than a minute before biting the pillow to muffle your scream. Drenching his mouth and hands with your cum.

“As I said divine.” Yoongi grins as he looks up at you, his lips glistening with your fluids. After leaving  you with no energy to debate his notion you can only nod and accept his truth. He cleans his fingers once again with his tongue, before sending them to undo the laces of his trousers.

When his cock slips free he takes your hand, guiding it along to stroke his shaft. His head falls back in pleasure, giving you the confidence to grow bolder. You sit up to meet him pulling his length down to glide along the outside of your folds and become wet with your slick.

You find to his mouth again with a kiss as he throbs against the inside of your legs and mound. “You are sure of this then?” He asks one last time.

“I am.” You promise looking into his eyes as he leans you back and guides his cock past your folds. The air in your throat catches, and your eyes flutter as you adapt to the sensation of him inside you.

The back of his fingers brushing at your cheek before folding out to cup your face. “Still with me?”

You nod back, pushing your lips to his upper chest and shoulder as you adjust to him. Yoongi lowers you back down to the bed, cradling your form as you descend. Finally cocooning you in a close embrace, with his nose buried in the nape of your neck.

His cock swells, and you arch your back in response, meeting his chest with yours. With his arm tucked around, he keeps you in that position. Dragging his hips away and towards, his thrusts come slow as your arousal coats his shaft. Every push becomes easier for you to take, but it would seem it’s harder for him to hold on. His forehead comes to rest on your shoulder a rasping grunt, as he remains inside. He changes tactics and turns to tend to your neck instead, slowing his pace to a halt, as he kisses the marked spot.

You take note of a low growl emitting from him as he continues to lavish the spot. He must hate it as much as you, his failure to come to you in time on display before him. But you know no amount of simple affection will remove the spot from view.

“Yoongi?” You ask in concern as his disdainful rumbles grow louder. Adjusting your head to get a glimpse of his pained face, you find a dampness forming in the duct of his eye.  “Yoongi, is it-”

“I hate how he continues to mark you. It shouldn’t be here between us.”

“Then take it.” You suggest, for you like him are unable to tolerate it any longer.

He looks fearful of what you ask, his eyes wide as he explains, “I’ll need to break the skin.”

“Then do it. Please, help rid me of this too.” You tuck his head back down so his lips come to rest against your neck. No longer fearing such an act with him, not after the gentleness he showed you before.

His mouth opens with his teeth dragging across the scar. There’s a brief prick of pain before the spot is soothed by his lips. Yoongi’s groans of satisfaction start to encourage and blend with your own, his arms continuing to embrace you and coddle you.

With his still mouth fixed to your neck, you feel as his tongue turns beneath his teeth, and with a swift bite he laps his own blood on to the fresh wound. The lingering pain soon falls away as the skin heals. Your head swims in a state between dizziness and pleasure, a sense of euphoria takes over.

You place your hands on his hips wanting him to resume, craving more of his pleasure. And so the thrusts return with Yoongi’s hand pressed to the small of your back, ensuring that your clit grinds against him as he pushes deeper. He dives into you to the point where you can hear the dull thump of the bed frame against the wall.  You wish you could hold on longer, you wish you didn’t have to let go, you find yourself whispering Yoongi’s name repeatedly as if it might change that. Only to be left stuttering between breaths as you claim your last climax.

He pulls out after his own release, hovering as he smiles down on the sight of you, and your legs wrapped around his thighs. After taking a moment to collect himself he goes to grab the washing dish and jug of water, dipping the supplied towel he proceeds to take care of what he left behind. You attempt to claim the cloth from him, as he lingers between your thighs, but he insists on being though. With a grin tugging at his lip each time the towel passes over your sensitive flesh and causes you to twitch.

“I will not forget this, not ever.” Yoongi whispers once finished, as he takes to your side covering you over with the blanket.

You nod in agreement, brushing the hair from his face. “When it is all done, I want you to come back to me. I don’t care how long, I have to see you again.”

“I-I will try, but I cannot promise I will survive this task. If my demise will allow me to stand between you and him then I will gladly become that barrier.” You gasp ready to argue against such a sacrifice, but one tap of his finger to your lip stops your conflict in its place, allowing him to finish. “Rest now. Think not of what we can’t change.”  

You curl into Yoongi trying to do as he suggests. Though just as you get comfortable there’s an unexpected tap on the shutters of your room, a circumstance made even more surprising when you remember yourself to be on the second floor of the house. Your vampire rises, careful to open the window so no light shines on him. Allowing a raven to make its way inside.

Yoongi is quick to free it of a rolled letter attached to its foot before releasing the bird and blocking out the window behind it. As his eyes scan the paper, his brow furrows and his hand clenches the parchment to the point where it starts to crackle in his grip. He proceeds to throw back on his clothes, not even bothering to change out his torn shirt, while keeping the letter clutched in his hand.  

“Yoongi, is something-”

“I need to talk to Seokjin. Stay here.” He growls bursting out the door in a formidable rage, slamming it behind him. You give time for him to descend the steps before crawling from your bed wrapped in the sheet and leaning your ear to the solid wood that bars you from the hall, but nothing can be heard through the thick barrier.

You can not help but fear what might be wrong for Yoongi to react in such a way. Going against his command you throw the clothes Namjoon left you and ready to exit your room. Carefully pulling on the latch of the door so as to not make a sound. You ease through the smallest crack you can muster before settling at top of the stairs, hidden from the view of the floor below. The voice of the vampires trailing up from the main room.

“You have her smell all over you, lucky bastard,” Seokjin groans. “How did she taste?”

Yoongi doesn’t answer the question, posing his own instead, with a rustle of parchment and a loud thump on the table. “How long, how long have you known of this?”

“Yoongi-” Seokjin responds, the uncertainty of his tone is a jarring contrast from your own previous interaction with him.

“Answer me Seokjin!”

“I couldn’t tell you, you gave up your position, because of her. You know there is information we must keep from the hunters in case it falls into the wrong hands. I’ve known this to be the truth since you first went to recover her from Taehyung. We all knew it was your primary goal to retrieve her, but I wasn’t allowed to say anything that might cause a change in course from you. If you had known you would not have led her this way.”

“So you kept me in the dark? All these years?” Yoongi seethes. “I promised I would take her home! And you're just now sharing with me that I can’t? You didn’t care if I knew the whole truth, just as long as in the end I brought her closer to the clan’s reach?”

“We can keep her safe.”

“No, she deserves her life away from us. She has been tortured enough Seokjin. How am I supposed to tell her this? She was just starting to recover, to remember her past, and to trust me again, but this... it will break her. She won’t accept this new fate if this is your only solution.”

“Then don’t tell her, don’t give her a chance to refuse. She accepted your blood, did she not? Use it to send her off to sleep and don’t wake her again until she’s resting comfortably behind the clan’s walls. You can return to your old life, Hoseok will grant you your title back if you do this, I’m sure of it. You can be the high keeper again, with your princess safe by your side.”

There’s a loud clamour and groan, prompting you to peak just around the edge to witness the struggle. There on the table, Yoongi has pinned Seokjin, his fingers wrapped around the vampire's neck.

Seokjin doesn’t appear to be too put off despite his situation, choosing instead to give advice to the one who has him by the throat. “You’re immortal Yoongi, she is not, you need to remember that. Her sadness will be only temporary if she chooses to hold it against you, but if you go against us now you will be alone, without a clan for eternity.”

Yoongi stands there in silence, no more refusals, no more rebuttals. Instead of continuing to argue on your behalf, he nods and lets Seokjin up from the table. His fellow vampire claps him on the shoulder and mutters, “You’ve made the right choice old friend. Hoseok will be pleased to have you back in the clan’s coven.”

While they embrace every part of you is lit ablaze with pain and anger. You both had been played, but he... he acquiesced to his puppeteer, and plans to string you up too. There’s nothing that could willingly compel you to take shelter in a castle full of vampires again... with Yoongi by your side though? You consider the notion for a fraction of a second before a resounding ‘no’ takes hold. Your younger self might have gone, and willingly so, but now the cost to you and your people is far too great.

With the growing list of broken promises, how long before the vow of safety fractures for the sake of his clan too? What is there to stop the situation from evolving into your own past with Taehyung? You can not, you will not endure that kind of life again.

With your only option being to run, your head concocts a plan to flee. Creeping back to the bedroom you crack the window open, and glance over the edge, thankful to see that there are several crates stacked close enough for you to reach with your feet. If you’re lucky Yoongi will stay downstairs for some time and have no reason to believe you’ve flown from his side. Fitting a spare cloak you escape out the window taking the map with you. Climbing down you flee towards the stables out back.  

There you find the horse without a proper name, another painful reminder of Yoongi’s promises, and inability to return. Forcing you to recognize the constant pull between you and his clan. Your heart is left broken down the line of betrayal and understanding, for how can you entirely fault him when you yourself are determined to return to your own kingdom at the expense of his happiness. In the end the both of you are left to suffer the pain of duty over love.

Not wanting to journey with such a bitter token of the past, you choose the other smaller stead stolen from the hunters instead. Mounting the horse, you ride off into the noonday sun, eager to make it home before he or his kind have the ability to alter your course.

[beautifulterriblequeen]

Trickster: an Ethari theory

I've had yea many Ethari headcanons, and I hope I live to have yea many more. Most of them are probably wrong, or incomplete at best. But boy are they fun.

I love to wonder what Ethari will really be like in canon when we get to know him for more than 3 minutes, but whoever he really is on his own, he will have an effect on Runaan , Rayla, and everyone who loves him, because they love him.

The first headcanon I can remember having for "Tinker" was that he could be like Leonardo da Vinci: a genius, creative, surrounded by beautiful ideas given shape by his hands, but also capable of creating deadly weapons, enchantments, and devices with equal beauty, and perhaps not really seeing where the line between them was. It was fun, but Ethari has ended up far softer than my headcanon, and I love and support him in his softness!

After a nice string of Ethari headcanons, this year I've started poking at the Trickster archetype and seeing if it applies to him. And I think it absolutely does!

Tricksters often seem like Chaos. But they're not. They're just Difference. "Chaos" is subjective. Like the "divergent" in "neurodivergent." Who says? Divergent from what, exactly? Perspective matters, and Tricksters have a very broad take on things which allows them to think outside any box people might try to invite them into.

My enjoyment of Loki has brought all kinds of ideas to my dash with the arrival of the Loki show. I've got a copy of the Edda, and I highlighted the hell out of it a couple of years ago as I searched for the roots of Loki's origin story. (It's truly fascinating reading and the symbolic language hidden inside their poetry is dazzlingly amazing and I'm super using it sometime just so you know)

Loki is a Trickster, and he's far from alone in myth and legend. Anansi, Coyote, and Sun Wukong are some you may have heard of. Aaravos is another, of course. Tricksters can be called upon to lend aid and wisdom when the rules don't have an answer for some extraordinary circumstance which the Trickster's people find themselves in. But that's not because they are truly outside the rule of order. They are actually a part of it. They are the catch-all for when the everyday ordinary rules fail people, and something "unthinkable"--in the literal sense--might just hold the answer.

This post crossed my dash today, and something finally clicked in my head, and all of this coalesced from what felt like separate places. But they're not separate, not anymore! Serotonin, baby. It's basically upped my headcanon to a full-blown theory.

What caught my eye was an answer to why Ethari's clothing is so determinedly asymmetrical, compared to Runaan's specifically, but Moonshadows in general. It's because of this:

Long protective sleeves below patterns on shoulders. A high collar paired with a bright and noticeable swoop around the neck. Fine detailing and graceful taste. Asymmetrical tunic point on the left, below broad strappy leather. Knee high boots with stylish protective gaiters.

And let's not forget the curling horns! In some comics, Loki has a broken horn. So does Ethari.

Yes, there is a lot of similarity here, but I'm not focused so much on the visuals as the reason they were chosen. Feel free to consider other aspects of Ethari's personality and how they might be similar to certain parts of Loki's. I did! But I wouldn't be me if I didn't go deeper than that.

My favorite book in the universe (so far) is Lois McMaster Bujold's The Curse of Chalion, and one of the many reasons why is because of her pantheon. It holds five gods, represented by a hand: Father, Mother, Son, Daughter, and Bastard. The first four all have their roles and places. The Bastard--the thumb--inherits everything else. He is the god of all things that do not belong to any other gods, and that includes self-sacrificing vengeance and queerness. He is a Trickster, and his influence on Cazaril's life is far deeper than at first glance. Chaos has its place. It belongs, and so do the Tricksters who engender it. God, I love this book. Please read it if you haven't. Bujold's work is amazing.

If you've seen or read any version of MDZS/Untamed, you know that Wei WuXian is a trickster. Competent and badass in battle, but playful and teasing to the point where sometimes even he isn't sure what he truly wants, he can bring a massive amount of power and focus when he wants to. It's always a matter of "but is it important to me?"

I love WWX so much. The Trickster vibe is very apparent in his character, and in a way you just don't get in Western media. We see him on his own, and we see him with family and loved ones. And he's always feeling something so intensely! He's driven by his emotions, for good or ill. He vibes with chaos, and he will create it if it doesn't exist yet. But he will also create family from nothing, and that's something you don't see enough of! WWX is a Trickster with an emotional preference for joy.

In TDP, Ethari doesn't have a lot of lore yet. It's being Moonshadowed because spoilers for future seasons, and I respect that. The longer the wait for S4, the more ideas I will just amuse myself with in the meantime--and yeah, this is one of them, so what? :))) But we do know a little about him.

He loves music. He loves to read. He leaves his mark on things in swirly form. He works very hard, even through headaches, because what he's doing is that important to him, even though he would much rather be making jewelry. He loves taking the time to polish rough stones into brilliant jewels, and he adores big pretty flowers and had them at his wedding.

Ethari has a temper, but he also loves puns. The weapons he crafts are exquisite: "light, elegant, strong, and clever." And he knew darn well that Runaan was trying to flirt with him, but why return a sentiment he may or may not feel yet when he can play with the overly earnest assassin just a little bit first?

Okay, just... A "simple craftsman" deciding that it's going to be fun to toy for a bit with a broody assassin's feelings? Would you risk that? Ethari got balls the size of the moon, and a brain to match. When he has to make weaponry, he does not half-ass it. Ethari's stabby creations nearly have a life of their own. His creations are literally called "trick weapons." This elf is a lot, okay. And it's possible that he doesn't even know how "a lot" he is. Yet.

We're meeting Ethari after he's found something that is, in fact, genuinely important to him: Runaan, and Rayla, and Laindrin too. Ethari has found a relatively stable place to settle and find a role to adopt. I say adopt, though, because making weaponry for his loved ones is not what he grew up wanting to do. It's what he had to do to keep them safe, once he found a place to bestow his heart.

But in the show, Ethari has lost his family, one by one. First Lain and Tiadrin, ghosted. Then Runaan, supposedly fallen on his mission. Then Rayla, ghosted for abandoning Runaan. He and Rayla have reconnected now, but the rest of his family is still out of his reach. If Rayla has indeed told him, by S4, what she learned at the Moonhenge in TTM, then Ethari may parallel Rayla's journey to seek answers. But even if he doesn't know yet, and gets pulled into some other story arc first, we will be seeing Ethari without his family.

Remember the ATLA episode "Zuko Alone"? Consider: "Ethari Alone."

Ethari has chosen, for love, to fit himself into a box that wasn't of his own making. And now that box has broken. His family doesn't need him to be their craftsman anymore. Perhaps others will need him to be other things to them. Or perhaps he will know that his family does need him, but to be far more than just a maker of pretty swords. A rescuer, perhaps. A healer, a guide? An avenger?

A trickster. Capable of taking many shapes, because he understands them all. Ethari works with form and function. If he needs to transform himself, he will.

That's what Tricksters do. It's delightfully queer and delightfully neurodivergent. Ancient peoples accepted and revered the different among them and actively sought their help with things they themselves struggled with.

Tricksters are Difference. Sometimes that manifests as chaos, sometimes as genius. But if you do not love and appreciate your chaos, it will absolutely turn on you. Wei Wuxian did. Loki certainly has, many times. Perhaps Aaravos is doing so as well.

I cannot wait to see what Ethari does with his difference. I have something very specific that I hope he goes and breaks.

All this from a picture of Tom Hiddleston in his Avengers 1 Loki costume? Yeah. Because Ethari was designed to wear asymmetrical clothing, in a Moonshadow culture that prides itself on balance. Sure, there are some other Moonshadows who wear this or that asymmetrical item, and I do love to see it. But Ethari has the most asymmetrical lines of them all. The meta glee I feel knowing that Moonshadow elves are designed to hold many layers of meaning in their appearances--that the writers, creators, and character designers just flexed with them--is truly a delight.

Ethari is asymmetrical. The full and practical application of that is a glass casket, and I hope it becomes a gift that keeps on giving, because boy do I want to keep receiving it. But right now, I'm genuinely seeing evidence of the Trickster archetype in him. And I really hope it gets to come out and play.

[takaraphoenix]

Cruella: Review

There’s a lot to unpack here. Spoilers below the cut. Duh.

The unspoilered short version: Man, this movie was bad. But man, this movie was good.

This movie is if Ocean’s 11 met The Devil Wears Prada and the Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss meme, but Produced By DisneyTM.

Confused? Good.

Let’s start at the beginning.

The first ten minutes or so might be the cringiest bullshit I’ve seen in quite a while. Ooof, that was hard to get through, three times I nearly quit on the spot.

The first, I’d say half of it maybe, were...

If you take this as an actual Disney movie with Disney money put into the writing and thinking of it, man that’s a whole load of cringey dumb nonsense.

If this weren’t a Disney movie, this would be bloody brilliant, because the whole thing comes off like a Disney parody. From the “lol she has her split hair but it’s natural for literally no apparent reason at all” to the “also dalmatians Killed Her Mother” and “because Disney girl, she’s an orphan now” and of course the disturbingly intelligent Disney Animal SidekickTM that seemed so incredibly displaced in a not animated movie and one where the POV are the humans while the animals don’t speak.

This had all the markings of a delightfully silly Disney parody.

Which makes it an incredibly bad Disney movie. Because it doesn’t have the Enchanted charm of intentional self-awareness and poking fun at yourself. It comes off as clumsy and unintentional.

The cast’s brilliant.

The Emmas are absolutely carrying this movie and I think with a different cast, this would not have worked at all. And it’s more than just the Emmas, the whole cast just works, they’re amazing. They play it with the right balance of seriousness and complete camp that makes it come off as a parody.

Part of what makes it seem like a parody is just how they are truly pretending there was a twist there. With the “I am your mother” thing. Anyone who’s ever watched a movie must have known going in that the Baroness is going to turn out to be Cruella’s birth mom, I mean, come on, they projected it so hard. They didn’t even try to make it a twist.

(I can’t get over the “dalmatians killed her mom” bit, I’m sorry. Pause for me to laugh hysterically to myself.)

Let’s talk about the hair.

Why.

Just.

Why.

Even Once Upon a Time had the presence of mind to make that not a natural occurence. And they... didn’t even make it pay off? At all? I kept expecting her to pull off the Baroness’ wig and reveal the trademark black and white hair. A family trait. Solid unshakable proof she is her daughter.

Particularly with the way the Baroness kept her hair covered with some variety of headdress or overly ridiculous wig-hairdo-things. I was so sure there was a reason for that. But then the flashbacks of the pregnancy and birth, nothing, and the movie ends, still nothing.

So, why was that silly, unrealistic detail necessary, exactly? It could have been her persona as Cruella, she starts making a fuss as the fashion designer Cruella and creates this look for herself. To make it her natural hair... there was no point to it, aside from making things weirder and more unrealistic.

I also do have to mention Disney’s once again first ever gay rep. This one’s even worse than the last, I think five, of their first ever queers. Because he isn’t even queer in the movie. At. All. I thought, until the end, that him and Horace might kiss. But... we are really just supposed to assume him as default gay for being the Flamboyant Fashionable Gay Stereotype. That’s a new low when it comes to gay rep, even for Disney. And those are the guys who brought us “unnamed extra nr 5 speaks of having a date with a man at the beginning of Endgame” and “two unnamed women kiss for 0.2 seconds in a Star Wars movie”. At least there was actual confirmation of queerness. And not just “he dresses and behaves like the gay archetype so like that totes counts as rep”. Yikes. Even for you, Disney. Yikes.

Totally loved the found family feel of it all though and the fact that they didn’t force a romance between Estella and Jasper.

And I adored the ending. Faking her own death and blaming it on the Baroness was poetic, brilliant and really refreshing because I was so sure she was gonna have the dogs maul the Baroness to death in revenge. Nice one.

The best part though, not gonna lie, was the entire middle part. The The Devil Wears Prada section of it, if you will. Cruella upstaging the Baroness was amazing and so much fun to watch.

The last gripe I have with it was the mental illness angle. Aside from the whole “psycho” thing concerning the Baroness and the vocally expressed implication that Cruella inherited that from the Baroness and that’s why she is Cruella, there’s also the whole... Estella-Cruella thing. It felt much like Hollywood’s stereotypical portrayal of split-personality, even if it was not labeled as such in the movie. Either way, the movie heavily leaned on the “crazy makes villain! Villain is crazy!!!” angle and... it’s 2021, come the fuck on, especially with something where the source material itself didn’t demonize mental illness in that way, like you’re not even adapting something where that’s ingrained into the story. Why did you have to go there.

I feel like Anita and Roger have to be mentioned, briefly. Much like in the movie. Such a throwaway strange thing to do, quite honestly. Anita went from being her only and best friend in childhood to her... kind of helper reporter lady. But that’s supposed to be the Anita who will work for her and whose dogs Cruella is going to try and murder and in the set up of this movie, that just makes no sense at all, quite frankly.

So, yeah, this movie is a hell of a mixed bag. It was incredibly cringey, but also incredibly enjoyable, the designs and acting were amazing, the writing was less than sub-par, if it weren’t a Disney movie it’d be a brilliant parody but as a Disney movie it feels much like the “how do you do, fellow kids?” meme, as though Disney is trying something but doesn’t quite know how to grasp it because they’re out of touch, and, as always, the representation is just... sad, but what else is new.

[otonymous]

Remembrance (MLQC Gavin - NSFW)

Description: In a world where strangers abound, friends become foes. Warnings: NSFW/18+:  Explicit/graphic language — reader discretion is advised.  Spoilers for Shaw’s identity and the latest chapters in the EN server (up to and including Chapter 24; the rest is pure speculation and imagination on my part as I generally try to steer clear of spoilers on other servers), hints of exhibitionism, vaginal fingering, angst Word Count: ~1500 words (~7 mins of smut & angst) Author’s Notes: This story was inspired by one of the many karmas that recently hit the CN server (please see pic above) and Gavin won out in my poll of which boy to write for first!  As with many things MLQC-related, you know I had to inject a dose of angst with my smut 🤣

SPOILER WARNING: For all my friends that are caught up on the latest chapters in the EN server, this story takes place in a timeline where MC is still unrecognized by the boys, but has developed some of that badassery I’m so looking forward to seeing in the future (I mean, just LOOK at the expression on her face in that karma; it screams “DON’T MESS” and I’m ALLLL for it LOL).  That being said, please note the warnings listed above and happy reading! 😊

🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬

He doesn’t know you.

If there was ever any doubt, it is driven swiftly from your mind by the frost in amber eyes, the gaze that once held nothing but tenderness now tinged with suspicion and distrust.

“Who are you?  How did you gain access to the classified files?”

The grip on your wrists tightens, the leathery smoothness of his gloved hand a sharp contrast to the strength in those long fingers, binding your arms behind you with ease.  Gavin’s breath is hot, dancing on the nape of your neck in unhurried rhythm despite the precariousness of the situation.

What did he have to be afraid of, after all?  He wasn’t the one in a compromised position, pinned against a glass wall in the Archives room - the inner sanctum of the Special Task Force headquarters.

“My patience is wearing thin.  You’d better start talking.”

His voice is hushed, low and dangerous and completely out of place when directed towards you.  A lifetime ago, when the biggest worry you had involved convincing a certain CEO not to pull funding from your production company, Gavin had loved you — completely and unconditionally.

Now you knew what it was to stand on the other side of that fence.

The woman you were before would’ve cowered, limbs shaking beyond control as her blank mind raced in endless circles, trying to come up with something, anything, to extricate herself from the desperate situation.

Scared.

Helpless.

All the things you no longer identified with.

Your breath fogs up the glass, mere inches from the tip of your nose.  Each passing second of silence sees Gavin’s brows furrow even deeper in the reflection staring back at you, his handsome features easily made out against the darkness of the surrounding hallways — dim save for the odd crimson glow marking exits and doors.

Shaw said he’d provide you with cover but apparently even he was capable of miscalculation.  No one was supposed to be here, let alone his older brother.  You wondered if he watched you now through the cameras panning the room; wondered whose eyes, if any, fell upon the pair of bodies pressed so tightly together they might well have been mistaken for lovers caught in flagrante.

Lovers.

In another life, you had called Gavin yours.  

The thought settles heavy in your heart, sinking until it reaches the pit of your stomach.  You knew what had to be done, hoped you had the wherewithal to make it happen.  Physically, there is no contest: Gavin is much too strong and fast for you to take on.  Escape now is contingent on the hope that even if he had no recollection of you, his body would still respond to the things you knew he loved best.

“I bear no ill intentions towards the Special Task Force, Commander Bai, least of all towards you.”

Half-whispered, the tone of your voice is sultry, aiming to disarm.  Taking a deep breath, you step back, moving closer into the curve of Gavin’s body as you ignore the awkward angle of your stance.  The lapels of his overcoat brush soft against your bare shoulders and suddenly…

…you recognize that scent.

Soap on skin.  Windblown hair.  The memories wash over you, relentless like the undertow of a tidal wave: the letter you never opened — bloodied and crumpled.  The boy with the bandaged face, thrusting his jacket over your head as he yelled over the din of pouring rain for you to make a run for the school gates.  Your heart had pounded even then to be close enough to catch the subtle fragrance of his soap.

I’m sorry, Gavin.

You feel the heat of tears rolling down your cheeks, see them glisten in the reflection looking back at you.  And when you crane your neck to face him, amber eyes widen at the sight, Gavin’s grip on your wrists loosening just a bit to hear you say,

“You’re hurting me.”

Feigning innocence, you keep your gaze locked on his, letting your mouth fall open just enough to allow your tongue to sweep out and wet pink lips.

“Don’t you remember me, Gavin?”

Exaggerating the arch of your back, your bottom juts against the plane of his groin, hard even beneath layers of clothing.  And when your hips begin their languid sway — tracing figure eights over his body in an attempt to persuade — the prominent bob of Gavin’s Adam’s apple signals that you are on the right track.

“I…I don’t know who—”

“Touch me, and maybe then you’ll remember.”

You let your head fall back onto Gavin’s chest like so many times before, hear the echo of his heart — racing now — when you peer up at him from beneath your lashes.  Fighting against his grip, you slide your hands down and over the outline of his hardening cock…slow…until you reach the hem of your skirt.

Grasp and pull.  Up, up, up.  Try not to shiver when the cool air hits your bare skin.  Let the memories of the love you shared with this man burn bright enough to melt the ice of this Eternal Winter.

“I don’t care who sees if you don’t, Commander Bai.  You have nothing to fear from me.  I’m unarmed.  Check for yourself…”

Barely breathing now, you maneuver — cautious — until your palm is pressed to his.  Gavin’s fingers twitch and you seize the opportunity before it flees.  It is now your hand that grasps his, bringing it down and around the curve of your hip until it slides beneath the lace of your panties.

“Hm…”

Gavin moans despite himself to feel the heat radiating from your core even through leather, distraught at how uncharacteristically he was behaving.  He was seasoned enough to know when he was walking into a trap and yet, there was something about you that told him you weren’t lying; that he did know you even if he had no recollection of ever laying eyes on you in his life.

Maybe that was why he let himself be led, allowing your touch to ease the disquiet in his chest to feel like he finally found something important he once lost without even realizing it.

Your purse slides off your shoulder when you lurch forward, hands shooting out last minute to prevent your face from kissing glass as your knees shake to feel his gloved hand rubbing circles about your swelling clit.  Each stroke is torturously slow, as if Gavin were patiently getting reacquainted with the body that took very little time to respond to his touch.

You could hear it, after all — the wet sounds that accompanied the movement of his fingers, especially now that the middle and index were beginning to traverse the length of your slit, curving at your entrance to gather the arousal that pooled.

And when he holds up his hand before both of you, the sticky sheen that darkened leather in places makes you blush before all thoughts of self-consciousness are swept away by the sight of Gavin licking from knuckle to tip, white teeth biting to pull the glove off one hand, then the other.

You feel the heat of his skin now, the roughened callouses on fingers and palm sweeping gently along the line of your jaw, eyes of molten gold observing every movement in the reflection of you and him on glass like an intimate portrait.  And suddenly, there is no Special Task Force, no NW, no Black Swan…no Evol.  

Nothing else but you and him.

I love you.

The silent echo of your unspoken words settle in the darkest corners of your heart as your close your eyes, giving over to the touch of Gavin’s hands — one cradling your face as the other conforms to the curve of your breast.

“I don’t know why…”

Soft lips brush against the lobe of your ear en route to dropping kisses along the pulse of your neck.

“…but I’ll trust you this one time.”

There is an edge to his voice as Gavin pulls back, burying the tip of his nose into the nape of your neck and inhaling deep before he steps aside to let you pass.

“Go.  Before the rest of them get here.  Don’t ever let me catch you again.”

His eyes fall on you, scanning from head to toe before he reaches out to retrieve your purse from the floor and drape it over your shoulder.

“Gavin, I—”

You’re interrupted when the doors at the far end of one hallway slam open with a bang, STF agents spilling through with weapons at the ready.  Gavin shoves you towards the exit, shouting “GO NOW!” as he makes to step between you and the approaching brigade.

And as you make your escape, running so fast each breath draws the taste of blood, you fight to keep the tears from blurring your vision, all the while unaware of the amber eyes trained in your direction…watching until you merge with darkness itself.

🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬🌬

Thank you so much for reading!  Check out more of my work here! 📚

[project-paranoia]

Live Watch: S.C.I. Mystery Episode One

I enjoy camp because I've always enjoyed analysis and examination.  I enjoy looking at something from all sides, testing it with my fingertips. When I was a child I would sit for hours just looking at something until I had it all held in my mind and I felt like I understood it.  Camp necessitates that understanding the way that imitation and - good - parody requires it.  To quote Susan Sontag - who articulated what camp is so well - Camp is "a sensibility that revels in artifice, stylisation, theatricalisation, irony, playfulness, and exaggeration rather than content."  Because of this camp takes on head to head gender, sexuality, expectations, any sort of defined norm and sequins it up then shakes it down until understanding comes out.  When understanding something there are three major ways to work your investigation - what it is, what it's imitation is - the close but not quite, and what it isn't.  Camp handles all three, to quote again: "Camp sees everything in quotation marks. It's not a lamp, but a 'lamp; not a woman, but a 'woman.'"

Why are we talking about camp?  Because SCI Mystery is some of the best kind of camp outside of drag or screaming about wire hangers.  It deals a lot with mental illness in a way that would destroy a serious show, but in this one "mental illness" is a metaphor for being marginalised and a way to talk about the mouse and cat in the room.  This show is about being queer.  About being gay loudly and quietly, about resisting specific labels and needing them, about the threat of a cure and the blessing of acceptance.  All the messy realities of queer life as varied as queer people. Like Lil Nas X's Montero, you can appreciate the effort without being comfortable with it. While the show's allegory of mental illness when many queer people are still told they are ill is done well and there is reason to the choices and tone, things are said which can be hard to hear.  Knowing they're there because they're hard to hear and have been heard doesn't help everyone.

With all that said, it's also a fun, silly bl drama.  Don't let the analysis scare you off.  While the information about camp can be something to be aware of, all this show requires to be enjoyed is a willingness to be amused and spooked in turns.

You know the drill, spoilers below!

* I have memorised the youku sound, I have a triggered response with it. Not all triggers are bad, this one reminds me of Guardian

* Welcome to episode one where we just leap in!  But don't worry, one of them has a cute earring and they are colour coordinated.

* Watching from youtube the episode is 38 minutes long while most of the others are 45.  Attach whatever emotion you want to that fact.

* The exposition is handily delivered by asking a question which tells us some things, thank you show, I appreciate it

* First episode and he's already giving his partner an in case I don't come back letter to be opened if he dies

*  Wait for me!~  Go!~~

* Slow walk with dramatic music: 1 (don't make this a drinking game You Will Expire) this time with bonus almost looking back

* I've seen a similar shot on Hawaii Five O

* Don't explain what's happening, just knock everything over with a jump kick in some absolutely spotless white tennies

* Running with dramatic music with bonus looking back: Does it count?  We have yet to hear back from the judges

* They leap into the water with an explosion behind them, we are less than 2 minutes in and I love that for them

* At first I thought the boats were making a big heart before I remembered that I am very silly and they are not doing that

* This one is going to be long

* I can see his pockets through his trousers, why are his trousers so thin?

* It's not kissing to dramatic music in the surf if it's CPR

* Each story line has its own intro and that's very sexy of them

* Slow walk/dramatic music: 2-6

* These people are totally goofy and and yet the Seriousness

* Two Weeks Ago!

* The police school bus has arrived to shoo away the crows circling around Dr. Zhan staring (dramatically) at the body

* Sport scar policeman dresses even more unprofessionally than Zhao Yunlan who at least looks like a detective who was jumped by so many criminals he just gave up wearing a suit and went for jeans. Chief Bai's clothes are so thin, I'm under constant anxiety someone is going to tear them off.

* Also several of the cast pictures on MyDramaList look like the pictures your auntie insists taking to send to your other aunties and I love that for them

* Triple axil spin from the victim, the judges are loving it - this is the camp I'm here for

* The dramatic slo mo and music budget for this show was so big, just as it should be

* He's mad because he's angy

*  Master Psychiatrist can tell all about the killer from crouching by the body, it's a trope and this is one of the few places I like it because it serves the show instead of the show serving it

* When you're almost boyfriend is going away for reasons and it's not your decision but you can't go with him because of your job so you're just low key bitter about it

*  "You can't control me"

* The pettiness between these two

* Professional women who worked hard to get where they are still are constantly obsessed with boys according to most cdramas

*The male posturing in those three second has accidentally circled back around to being gay in the way those bro shows accidentally do and I love that

* I live for this 80s-90s police chief perm

* The Pettiness

* I always tend to like doctor characters, I don't know why.  Even when they aren't my favourites I like them.

* She's kind of adorable, I like her (I've seen a lot of this show and every time I say I like someone it ends badly ;-; )

* "the victems"

* If you love Creative English, this is the show for you!

* Chief Bai's crew is trying so hard to get them back together

* Dr. Zhan is so good at psychology he can tell what someone looks like from some tire tracks - this trope is used all the time in crime shows, but they push it a little farther in SCI and it really helps the viewer know what the rules for the show are

* The scene in the psychiatrist's office hearkens back to queer coded villains and the way they're treated in old black and white horror cinema - but done so artfully it's almost invisible.  It's incredibly well done, and the awareness of tropes and types all throughout the series is tremendously successful as much as it's campy fun.

* There's also the trope of someone who manipulates someone into feeling like they've been "purified" and then weaponises them against the "filthy". And of course the fact that the killer's blade is a mirror - that he's killing in others what he sees in himself. This trope hasn't just been queer-coded but has been applied to any sort of physical or mental disorder. Thesis have been written about this trope and the anxiety attached to it. I can't write them better and this is long enough, it's just a small part of the excellent handling of the themes showing up in this genre and I wanted to point it out because it deserves appreciation for the skill and knowledge in the writing.  

* The whole you need evidence vs you're saying psychoanalysis isn't trustworthy feels very much like a coded angry exes discussion

* I love the establishing shots, so good

* He kind of deserved that door to the face, what was he even doing

* Police violence in crime shows is supposed to be a release for the viewer, but many countries have issues with police violence so it hits wrong.  Here it's far more performative in a way that at least has some awareness

* The weirdest phone call, you call someone to tell them something important and they say two things to you and hang up

* The tongue thing, why always the tongue thing?

* When a serial killer tries to compliment you by calling you a carnivore and you shut down the whole alpha male supposition by calling yourself a vegetarian

* At this point I've written almost fifteen hundred words and taken almost two hours to watch 23 minutes

* This is my life, these are my choices

* Dutch Angles

* You could make this conversation about being gay, I have had this conversation about homosexuality before

* Unfortunately while I had it I was on the bus trapped in a window seat

* The conversation didn't end with me saying something cool and everyone clapping

* They just got off the bus to go to work

* The banality of evil, yo

* Her shorts are Incredibly Short, good for her

* "arrest the perp behind my back" that's his job, broheim

* He doesn't ask why she checked behind their ears

* DUN dun dun!

* Slo mo file drop, and of course the file is blood stained and aged

* Chalk Art of Doom

* Chinese word play!

* Caught almost putting his coat over his crush, embarrassing XD

* Backstory!

*  I love all the little character details, I could quote lines I think are funny all day but that would start getting silly

* Bai Yu Tong is marked as clean and having OCD but we don't see what's apparently a huge character trait at all other than the all white, do love that he's good at cooking

* Dr. Zhan: Brilliant!  Genius!  Cannot feed himself.

* Dr. Gong has indifference level 100% which is true and also I love that for him

* I love that Wang Shao part of the team because he's good at making friends, I love that for him

* Poor Zhao Fu: scared of ghosts and dumb and sweet?  At least he has an 8 pack

* Jiang Lin is very tropey except the mention of her nearsightedness

* Ma Han's height 1.7m and legs 1.8m is hilarious and I love it

* I stopped recording the slo mo walks, but if you were drinking along with them you might be dead so I really appreciate you taking time out of your afterlife to continue reading.  We appreciate all our ghost readers

* And that's the first episode!  Thanks for making it to the end!

[chalkrevelations]

WELL. Episode 3 of Word of Honor.

First of all: If you are NEW or JUST VISITING, this is a re-watch, so there are SPOILERS not just for this ep, but for the ENTIRE SHOW. A lot of them, actually. Scroll away and come back later if you haven’t seen all 36.5 eps and want to watch it unspoiled.

So, this ep feels a little disjointed. I don’t think it actually is, not in the way the back nine are a speedrun where the writing starts to feel like it’s thisclose to coming off the rails, but it feels like it, in that we’re now getting a double handful of threads thrust at us that are only just starting to be woven together into a plot, and it’s the kind of hot mess that any fiberwork looks like before the pattern starts to show itself, particularly when you’re using 15 different color threads from jump. There’s generally a major theme or issue or overriding concept that stands out to me in each ep that, you may have noticed, gets primacy of place in these reactions, but honestly, y’all, I really struggled to figure out what that might be for this episode, because a lot of this, on re-watch, strikes me as groundwork for later developments. Wen Kexing gives us an “as you know, Bob” speech about the Amory and the Glazed Armor, we meet approx. 3.2K new characters, and I feel sort of like I should start keeping a chart of who’s supposed to have a piece of the Glazed Armor and who actually does have a piece of the Glazed Armor, but it’s already so confusing that it might be too late.*

ANYWAY, on re-watch, I can absolutely see the value of spending Eps 1 & 2 on introducing us to Zhou Zishu and Wen Kexing and getting us pulled into their orbit, because then we have scenes we’re already invested in to maintain our interest as the background politics begin to frustratingly play out with a bunch of people we don’t know or have any investment in yet. I mean, y’all. I forgot just what an ill-tempered gremlin ZZS was in these early eps. He is so fk’n put out that these people will not let him drink himself to death in the gutter in peace! Or, you know, in occasional Nightly Nails Torment. And the exasperation from both ZZS and Chengling over WKX’s antics – both of their faces are priceless in the scene when they discover he’s the one who’s bought out all the rooms at the inn. I literally lol’d. Again. Even knowing it was coming. All of this interaction is so delightful. This is actually the ep that provoked my very first WoH keysmash flailing Tumblr post and inaugurated the “wen kexing’s thirst is practically a third character” tag. I guess the biggest throughline for this ep is that we can continue to see how everything changes when we know about their previous relationship – things like WKX’s insistence that they have a “deep bond through fate” take on additional layers of meaning rather than just sounding like some dude who’s trying to pick you up at last call. Interesting that ZZS describes WKX at one point during their push-pull conversational dance as “like a wretched soul that keeps haunting around.” You mean, like a GHOST? Like a Ghost Valley ghost? Like the almost forgotten memory of a past life ghost? ZZS wants to know why WKX keeps following him around, and it would be nice if WKX would just come clean, but that would be too easy, wouldn’t it?

ZZS, re: Chengling: I do my best to ensure what was entrusted to me.

WKX: :makes (already! in ep 3!) yet another in a series of bad decisions not to say anything about the fact that he, himself, was in fact entrusted to ZZS:

Show: Here’s the first of many helpings of heartache to come. EAT IT. EAT IT ALL.

(Me: Well, here’s another AU idea: What would the course of this relationship be like if WKX flat-out asked ZZS what ZZS’s relationship to Four Seasons Manor was, and bare-faced claimed sanctuary as long-lost shidi Zhen Yan at this point? Because I bet there are plenty of ways that could actually go wrong. Not to mention the deliciousness of just watching them navigate a relationship shift that sudden. I feel like, at this point, WKX would have to be actively confrontational about it, would have to throw it in ZZS’s face – it would need to be something he did in the heat of anger, in order to have this pushed out past all of his fears. Like, you say that, but where were you when I needed you? Also, you think so, well what if your responsibility actually turned out to be the TERRIFYING GHOST VALLEY MASTER, what then, huh? And ZZS, still pretty actively suicidal over all of his failures, having to deal with what’s now being presented as YET ANOTHER FAILURE.)

Also, the theme of “knowing” (zhiji, the one I know) is starting to slide in sideways – we’re seeing a lot of back and forth between them asking about seeing the other’s “true face.” WKX says that he’ll tell ZZS what he (WKX) wants from him once he gets to see ZZS’s true face (LIES, it’s going to take a lot longer than that). ZZS asks to see WKX’s figurative true face, and WKX looks kind of sad and contemplative as he warns that it may be unappealing or terrifying. So, you know, we’re starting to poke at all the softest, most tender places and the issues that are going to stab me repeatedly in the heart for the rest of the show. We’re also already seeing the way Xiao Chu just layered in references throughout the script when she wrote it that call back to each other – it’s like almost any line of dialogue references three other lines of dialogue (and that’s without even getting into all of the literary references that I’m missing because I don’t have cultural context). You get things like WKX’s little speech right at the end that it’s hard to tell a ghost from a human, which on its face might be referring to the two “ghosts” that were coming for Chengling that he took care of and act as an admonishment to ZZS not to be so quick to assume they’re actually from Ghost Valley, but it also refers to WKX, himself, and specifically lays the groundwork (“someone wearing a ghost mask is not necessarily a ghost”) for his conversation in a later ep with ZZS when he asks if ZZS thinks he’s a good person, and also calls back (“someone who looks human may not be human”) to the line from earlier in this ep, itself, when WKX tells ZZS that perhaps WKX’s true face is terrifying. And so we get a nicely little wrapped package of the dichotomy of WKX and his issues. (As a somewhat related aside, A-Xiang’s little face when Zhou Zishu says all of the ghosts of Ghost Valley are full of evil (at 6:55). D: This reaction is obviously for herself, but also may be the first time she acts as proxy for Wen Kexing, as well.)

What else, what else?

So, nobody has a good opinion of the jianghu. WKX is going to be constantly all, “You killed my father, jianghu, prepare to die,” but ZZS also goes off about how it’s just about greed, hatred and ignorance, and yeah, I guess he’d have a pretty bad impression of it, when Prince Jin and Tian Chuang seemed like a better option than the pressure he was facing, trying to keep Siji Manor Sect alive back in the day. We talk a lot about WKX’s childhood trauma, because it’s so awful and right in our faces, but I don’t know how much we actually talk about the fact that ZZS was a teenager not much older than Chengling when he inherited a sect and tried desperately to keep it from being torn apart by the rest of the jianghu. I think we see some bitterness come out in the first few episodes – frankly, in this ep, he doesn’t seem to make much of a distinction between Ghost Valley and the rest of the jianghu. Also interesting that the metaphor he uses about the jianghu’s and Ghost Valley’s greed for the treasures of the Armory is “reaping without sowing,” given what we find out is actually in there in Ep 36.

We see our metaphor of light get pulled out again – this throughline strikes me as more like beads on a string than a thread, at this point, but maybe I’ll notice it more on this second time through … Anyway, WKX’s comment at 9:11 that it’s almost dawn is notable. Indeed, but is it because your plan is beginning to work and you can see the destruction of Ghost Valley and the jianghu coming down the pike, or is it because you’ve found your shixiong?

I notice WKX has color-coordinated ZZS and Chengling in the robes he bought for them, has already grouped them together, marked them as belonging to each other – he’s already subtly treating them as each other’s family. The show, with a particular lack of subtlety, also will have ZZS there to wake up Chengling from nightmares later in the end of the ep, as Chengling calls out for his dad in his sleep.

OK, Deng Kuan is the guy in charge of the Yueyang sect contingent that arrived in time to see the Mirror Lake chaos in Ep 2 and has taken charge of cleaning up the bodies in this ep. I actually overlooked him, pretty much, the first time around, but here, he’s already got Shen Shen yelling at him (in a completely ridiculous fashion) for not getting there in time to save the Mirror Lake Sect, so he’s just going to be a punching bag through the whole show, apparently. Shen Shen is wu-di, fifth (little) brother, and he refers to Chengling’s dad as si-ge, fourth (older) brother, so Shen Shen appears to be the youngest of the Five Lakes sworn brothers, leading me to believe that some of what makes him so insufferable through a lot of the show is baby brother syndrome. Also, Shen Shen and his group find the Soul Winding Threads of the Hanged Ghost … supposedly. I mean, the Hanged Ghost was the guy who we saw get got in Ep 1, soooooo …. (remember these Soul Winding Threads, btw).

*This got super long so I’m’a put this last bit under a cut, but I did try to start a running tally of who’s holding a piece of the Glazed Armor:

Each of the Five Lakes Alliance sects is supposed to have a piece of the Glazed Armor, yes? So, as of the end of Ep 3 (hierarchical bro-titles are from didi Shen Shen’s POV):

- Yueyang Sect, led by Gao Chong (da-ge) - presumably still has his

- Tai Hu Sect, led by Zhao Jing (er-ge) – presumably still has his

- Danyang Sect, led by Lu Taichong (san-ge, presumably) – apparently the sect has already been attacked off-screen (by “Ghost Valley?” and WHEN?), as we learn in Ep 3 that Lu-zongzhu has been killed and his remaining two tiny disciples have fled to the protection of Ao Laizi and Tai Shan Sect, one of the lesser sects, and are believed to have taken Danyang’s Glazed Armor with them. We learn this from Tao Hong, Lv Liu and Begger Gang Chief, but I notice that Gao Chong only mentions the Mirror Lake massacre as the precipitating event for the Hero’s Conference and total war on Ghost Valley – he doesn’t even mention Danyang Sect, so does Five Lakes not know about this yet?

- Mirror Lake Sect, led by Zhang Yusen (si-ge) – Zhang-zongzhu killed by “Ghost Valley” in Ep 2, Glazed Armor “missing” and speculated POST EP 2 to have been taken by Ghost Valley (but will turn up in a few eps, thanks to our little Goldbean)

- Dagu Shan Sect, led by Shen Shen (wu-di) – presumably still has his

And then we move to:

- Tai Shan Sect, led by Ao Laizi – in-world speculation is that he now has the Danyang Glazed Armor. We do see him near the end of the ep with the two tiny Danyang shidi, where he makes the intriguing comment that he’s going to follow their shifu’s last wishes and keep their Glazed Armor from falling into the hands of the Five Lakes Alliance, so what exactly was going on between San-ge and his sworn brothers at the time of his death? This group also is apparently being pursued by Shen Shen to get their Glazed Armor, and they make him sound awful. You need better PR, Shen Shen.

- Ghost Valley – POST EP 2, speculated to have taken the Mirror Lake Glazed Armor (FALSE)

NOTABLY, “Ghost Valley Master” set a lot of this chaos in motion in Ep 1 when he claimed that Hanged Ghost (who got got a scene earlier) had stolen HIS piece of the Glazed Armor, although he shouldn’t have a piece (supposedly) until after Ep 2, when he’s believed to have taken Mirror Lake’s. So, what piece would that be, exactly, Terrifying Ghost Valley Master? You wouldn’t be lying in pursuit of chaos would you? (Somewhere, WKX gasps theatrically behind his fan, and he doesn’t even know what motivated it, this time.)

[suspiciouslypinkrosegarden]

The Passed Out Princess Chapters 1-2

Pairing: My CMC (Uyu, Dan Byeol) x Suit Saeran

Description: On days 7-9 of Ray’s route, the player is denied food as “Saeran” makes his presence first known. But, what if MC fell very ill under this method of torture due to a medical condition? Sadly, my custom MC, Uyu (full name Dan Byeol), would deal with exactly this dilemma.

Content warning: Descriptions of throwing up, passing out, and meal skipping. Every food related issue mentioned is strictly medical, and based on my own condition.

This was written under the assumption that you have played Ray’s route in full, so route spoilers ahead! This takes place during the very beginning of day 8, and according to the timings and contents of the chat rooms, it would take place before Saeran cuts contact with the RFA and before he installs a camera to monitor MC in her room. It is timed to match closely around to when I’d get sick myself.

My CMC’s condition deals chronic with low blood sugar, meaning she has to eat to keep it up or suffer the consequences as seen here. It is not diabetes related, it is something she is born with as am I and is linked to more complicated matters I left out to keep it simple. Some symptoms include: growing light headed, severe dizziness, nausea, vomiting, and passing out. See all chapters

I wrote this with flexibility for whichever HC for Saeran you follow (DID or BPD), because whether or not he has one of the following, Rika has drilled it in his head that Ray and Saeran are separate entities, and Saeran views it this way. Consider it written the way Cheritz writes him, with nothing exactly too set.

To make things easier for myself, I’m uploading multiple chapters on each post, chapters only separated by lines. Here is 1 and 2

Ping!

The sound of Dan’s phone alerted her to rise and greet the day with a new chat room open.

As the morning sun took its place in the clear blue sky, the little woman sat up in her big bed, bangs sticking out in all directions as her head thumped with a dull pain. Hunger induced pain, she noted, as her stomach felt empty.

Despite the beauty of this early morning, the light pouring through the windows creating a rosy glow which engulfed the princess room; there was no beautiful light shining on the brunette’s new situation, seeming so dreary and dim.

Uyu still found herself wrapped up in this place, whisked away to a castle tucked deep within mountains known as Magenta. Every corner of the building was constructed brick by brick with a beautifully ornate architectural design, but the bright exterior was only a façade. If she was left caged like this for long, what would become of her? Driven to insanity, perhaps she’d attack and claw at the walls which confined her, unable to turn her anger to Saeran, the real victim in all this. The “savior” made it clear she was the true ruling figure who lurked about as the moon rose, the mastermind behind this place’s pain and suffering.

The night before, after being so kindly introduced to “Saeran”, this golden-haired angel confirmed herself to be quite the wicked witch of the west indeed, and it took everything out of Uyu to not call her harsher names to her face.

Mint Eye was hell redecorated to wear the guise of heaven, but pretty gardens and saccharine words could not fool her. Because Dan wore no wool over her eyes, the savior had no intention of allowing her to live long enough to become the new narrator of “The Yellow Wallpaper”; and she had no shoes to click together at the heel to wish her way home with who she came here for originally.

Just as Ray’s suit did, he changed, flipping like a light switch.

Saeran, the name V previously called him by, did succeed in giving her a good fright, his attitude being the least thing she expected to see after Ray’s earlier sobs over the phone.

Uyu was mainly focused on one solid question after their encounter, though. Just what did that “cleansing” entail in full detail? What did this place do to him, to make him weep and beg for a warm hand to hold one minute, only to push back and try to scare her the next?

It was as if he was caught, dragged by the feet somewhere inescapable, a pit damp and dark down under; rising from a shivering grave cold to the touch.

If it weren’t for her position, she wouldn’t have allowed it.

Now more than ever, this room built on the foundation of fantasy and delight felt like a birdcage which barely allowed her to wiggle an arm through its bars. She relied on her song, her sweet words which Ray claimed to tickle at his heart and hold a power over him like no other before. Her goal, of course, was to use this for good, influencing him to learn to appreciate and care for himself like he should. But now, she felt unable to do even that much, not that she’d give up trying.

Saeran wished to dismiss her and her actions entirely, evident from his need to spew the fact that he bestowed upon her the label of being less than a person, his toy. His play thing.

That sick twisting she felt pooling in her gut upon first hearing the term “cleansing” seemed all too in place.

Ray, as sweet as her prince charming was, had a knack for leaving out important details about this museum of wonder. To her best guess, it was done to avoid panic as none of what went on here could be viewed as normal, or ok. He only briefly mentioned things like the “elixir”, such as on the night V arrived to spiral this place’s plans into chaos.

That was the night she could officially mark a great importance in staying, despite the vast network of lies.

Uyu wasn’t entirely stupid, she had an idea of what the elixir might be a while back, but it was still hard to process regardless.

Saeran threatened to give her one of these cleansing ceremonies...and said he could “draw out the maximum pain in the process”, telling her whatever happened to him hurt. A “no duh” moment indeed, but it was confirmation.

Ray suffered, for no reason other than he was too enwrapped in his blooming feelings for her, something that shouldn’t be taken as a negative but was. It displeased the savior that his chains which bound him by the ankles began to jingle with his new yearning to take flight.

She couldn’t allow herself to lie down and give the savior the satisfaction of breaking her, not when she still had so much to do, and not when Saeran and the RFA were at risk.

As the cool night-time air blew around them, feeling its whisper through her long locks of hair, Ray opened up about Mint Eye’s beliefs as a sanctuary for the “weak”, who had no choice but to lock themselves away to avoid further hurt.

He clearly viewed himself as someone in this category. Weak. But Saeran? Saeran shoved and shouted, which felt like a complete opposite to Ray’s whimpers and pleading. He even went as far as to accuse her of manipulation, of treating Ray like a puppet as she watched him dance to the harp she plucked.

Looking past his outburst and itch to watch her squirm, there stood a man seething with hate sparked entirely by twisted lies and his own fears. He gave himself away rather quickly as he attempted to say she messed with “hisna vefeelings” for some “big plan”.

She had to trust that there were boundaries he wouldn’t cross, being so close to her and forceful...and that was where her panic truly lied. But for now, she’d bank on the idea that he just wanted to scare her, staying alert in case he went too far. There were vases around from Ray’s various gifts that could be used as a weapon during the extreme. Unlike her, Saeran had no fighting skills either, but currently she was a bit too ill for those measures.

For once, a room so pink made her feel neither cozy nor at home.

Uyu’s fuzzy morning vision was then attracted to a black blob hanging on the doorknob. With a little eye rub, she made it out to be a dress, and a rather pretty one at that. In the way it was cut, it would expose much of her shoulders and upper back, the top front of it connected to a bow tied around the back of a neck piece with strings of fabric; like an attached choker. She could only assume it was a “gracious gift” bestowed upon her from the man she saw take Ray’s place. Apparently, he has a thing for black.

Her little device chimed again, and then once more, third time giving her the last push of annoyance she needed to reach over and respond to the opened chatroom.

She sighed with relief seeing Seven was the person active online, as she could now pester him with questions about what he was seeing on his end of the fight. They typed away, Uyu expressing concern for both of the hackers as they discussed Ra-Saeran’s new careless and aggressive tactics to snag him a victory.

As time passed, Jumin joined to ask questions as well, mainly circling around the governmental commendation from the Prime Minister to recognize the RFA for their charity work. Uyu stuck to her gut and pushed against the idea of it being a complete positive.

While both V and Seven acted oddly around the idea of the commendation, the RFA was also just a small organization which had only held two parties previous to Rika’s “passing”. The award was too fishy to trust in her judgment, especially now that she understood things going on around here weren’t at all what they had seemed to be.

Mint Eye wasn’t the only organization she was caught in that held its secrets.

After a bit of talking, Jumin agreed that the prime minister’s reasoning had to be figured out before any final decisions could be made. Everyone logged off, Seven returning to the battlefield and Jumin to stitching in his car.

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

The need for food grew worse.

Uyu showered and changed into the outfit provided…not having much of a choice to do otherwise unless she wanted to rewear old clothing. She felt down and sluggish as she dressed the way her toy maker willed, the dark frills of her attire tickling against her thighs as her step dragged. She was still ok enough to make herself look presentable, even if done at such a pace.

Her hair changed to a solid dark brown color as it took in the shower water, the gold ombré reaching her tips returning upon giving it a blow dry, making sure Saeran would have less to scoff next he saw her. She wasn’t aiming to avoid his crude comments, but instead trying to make herself feel good. Call her smelly all he wants, she knows she isn’t.

Saeran was aiming to play into her insecurities, maybe full well knowing she had so very many of them as he tried to wind her up. The least she could do was confirm his lies to be lies in the ways she knew how, if not for him then for her. She couldn’t allow him to figure out what made her gears stop, whether his words were true or not. This was no game of knife throwing, and she was no target.

11:00 AM crept up on her as she moped around quietly in her dollhouse, waiting for Saeran to come and try to take a good yanking on her marionette strings.

Dan sat upon the bed as the empty-headed feeling and banging in her temple raged, shifting to lay down fully and make herself more comfortable. If she stood for too long, she’d sway and wobble as her vision turned to black, purple and green swirls, momentarily clouding both her sight and mind.

Despite her numerous texts and occasional calls, she still heard nothing from Saeran. Not a peep.

She was growing restless as well as worried for him, and what would become of her as she continued to go unfed.

Her phone buzzed, shifting her attention over to it groggily, eyes half lidded as she wanted to sleep off this sinking feeling. Soon, she’d start to go down like the Titanic as lunch time acted as her iceberg.

Uyu hoped it was her self-proclaimed master, only to let out a grumble seeing that it wasn’t. Instead, it was Zen who had logged on.

She chatted with him, trying her best not to voice her ever-growing discomfort from skipping last night’s dinner as well as that morning’s breakfast, lunch time now creeping just around the corner.

After a quick talk, she’d call Saeran again...as uncomfortable as that conversation would be, it was her only viable option to kill the onslaught of nausea.

As they talked for a while, Yoosung joined the conversation as well….with talk of food; stew he was in the middle of making to be precise. She felt her stomach churn and rumble as the need for rest fell over her like a weighted blanket, being the only escape from the inevitable vomit now building up inside.

She logged off within another couple of seconds as the hot sweat began.

Dan swallowed thickly as her stomach went haywire, guts twisting, coaxing her to run to the toilet and empty out the water she could at least keep herself going on from the bathroom tap.

Leaving her phone on the bed, she rose to her feet best she could, stumbling till she reached the cold tiles of the bathroom floor. There, she fell to her knees, pulling her long hair back and away from her damp face, lifting up the toilet seat before her.

Within a mere moment, she felt the contents claw at the inside of her throat with a burning sensation, attempting to break free. She shuddered as her body suddenly fell in temperature, before allowing whatever her tummy could offer up to slip past her lips, color in her face all too faded away, displaying her illness. Gagging and choking noises echoed throughout the small room as the rather clearish liquid flowed from her mouth, tears from the discomfort blurring her vision as she blinked them away.

She stayed like that by the toilet for a while, throwing up a couple more times before making certain that event was over for the time being. Uyu considered herself extremely lucky that none was able to touch her or end up in her hair, but not nice to say vomiting wasn’t new to her. She knew the tricks.

Oddly, when something like this would happen, it gave her a tiny amount of strength back. It was strangely relieving, although emptying her stomach further. Her tummy was able to untense a tad.

She blew her nose and wiped her eyes before giving it all a flush down.

A fast teeth brush followed before she stumbled over to bed where she had left her phone. She fiddled with the RFA app until she could reach Saeran’s contact profile. Trying not to let the dread of being ignored again wash over her, she dialed up his number, both nervous and praying this time for a response.

After that last fit was over, her condition would move her into another stage, passing out being the only thing to come next without the blood sugar spike she needed.

The ringing went on for what felt like an eternity as she groaned and pressed her face into the pillow.

“Pick up...pick up damn it please pick up…”.

Uyu wished that she had made a bigger fuss over this earlier rather than attempting to swallow it and wait it out. Being distracted by “the savior” and Saeran’s screaming was something she shouldn’t have allowed herself to do in the midst of endangering her own health. What was she thinking? She knew it would reach this point, it always does if left unchecked. She internally cursed herself for not speaking up more assertively.

After another moment, his angry voice finally came through the speaker and she sighed softly with relief. The last she had heard from him was at four in the morning.

“Feeling this lonely and desperate already, hmm? Tch...what makes you think you have the right to contact me over and over again when I’m doing important work unlike you?”

She huffed on the other end, which he paid no mind.

“All you do is fiddle around like a good for nothing. You didn’t seem so happy to chat with me last time we spoke, but now you’re all eager and ready? You’re just itching for another visit aren’t you? Impatient little princess~.”

He let out an airy chuckle, finding her repeated acts of calling him rather amusing.

“Don’t worry. I have play time all planned out for you soon, you pest. I’ll bother you ten times more than you ever bothered me-”

She cut off his angry rambling, mumbling quietly as she spoke.

“Saeran...can you please come here? I’m not well right now and I don’t know how much longer I can keep myself functioning...I already threw up-”

“Speak up, you complainer! Seriously? You want to see me so badly that you’d put on an elaborate show? Princess...you can’t win any sort of sympathy from me by acting like a brat. Ugg, I’m going to hang up now. I’ll be imagining the million ways I can punish you for this later, stupid toy. I’m busy! Too busy for a bug like you to understand! You waste my time-”

“Wait please...please come here...it’s harder for me to explain over the phone. I...mentioned this problem earlier..please…”

And she had, briefly attempting to bring it up as he invaded a chat room between her and Jaehee.

“Begging now?”

He took on a sad tone of childish mockery as he continued.

“Please please please...please come see me... AHAHA! You airhead. I know what your medical records look like, and therefore I know you’re spinning a lie. You’re not to be trusted just as my savior says. There’s nothing there pertaining to some sort of eating issue other than the fact that your weak little body can’t handle milk…‘Uyu’~.”

He teased at her chosen nickname, and while the irony was why it was picked, this was less than fun.

“Now quit whining over an empty stomach when it hasn’t even been a full day! It’s no fun to see you give up so fast!”

Dan tried her best not to slur her speech, the task assigned to speak up being too hard of one to follow.

“Fine...fine don’t believe me. But…..it doesn’t hurt to come anyways. Since you want to see me suffer….or whatever….”

“Or whatever??? Toy, if I come see you right now...you won’t like what you’re going to get. I haven’t an ounce of pity in me to give you if that’s what you’re searching for. I'm not the type to let you rest in my lap as I stroke your hair and tell you it will be alright, and I won’t give in and feed you. Instead, I’ll make sure you never wish to call me again.”

“...ok…”

“Ok? Ok?? Haha! ...ok then. Let’s see how pathetic you’ve become as you beg and plead to me in person, little actor. Playtime is happening earlier today than I had planned. Congratulations! I’m extra pissed.”

Call ended.

She let out a puff of air, dropping her phone down next to her before closing her eyes, not bothering to stand in preparation for his arrival.

Next chapters All chapters

[rocksandrobots]

Of Rocks and Robots Ch. 33 -Don't Mole On My Parade

"Beware evil doers, for I, the mighty Minimax, doth roam the streets with my trusted partner Fred, along with his newest protégé Varian, and together we plan to buy a DVD!"

Varian watched the small robot jump upon a mailbox to proclaim this lofty goal. The little automaton looked just like his namesake, a mini Baymax, but his behavior was far different from the robotic nurse. Hiro had built him to be a sidekick for Fred and so the robot acted just as if he came out of a silver age comic.

"Hey Fred?" Varian asked.

"Yeah?"

"What happened to 'keeping a superhero's identity secret is rule number one in the hallows of superherodom'?"

His friend looked back at him confused, "It is. Why?"

"Because your robot pal isn't exactly what I would call ' inconspicuous'. Aren't you worried someone might recognize him and, you know, put two and two together?"

Fred looked surprised, as if he had never considered this possibility. After a moment's thought he called after his robotic companion.

"You know, your right. Hey Minimax,

come here, you need a disguise."

The little android dutifully ran up to the teen and Fred pulled out a pair of sunglasses and placed them upon its head.

"There! How does that look?"

"Like a small white robot wearing sunglasses."

"Exactly! Usually he wears a cape when he's superheroing."

"You seriously don't expect people to be fooled by a pair of glasses do you?"

"Why not? It worked for Henry Reeve. He played Captain Fancy in the tv show."

"Yeah but I doubt the guy was a two foot tall robot."

"As far as we know…." Fred said stone faced as he looked Varian dead in the eye; the way he often did when spouting some crazy theory that no one else believed.

Varian decided to cut his losses. There was no getting through to Fred once he latched onto an idea; regardless of how ill advised and detached from reality it was.

"So where are we going again?" Varian asked instead.

"We're going to the comic book store to buy a copy of the Professor What DVD that just came out."

"I thought you already owned every episode though?"

"I do. Of every aired episode that is. This is the "lost serial". It was recorded but never broadcast due to a production strike during the 70s and the only way to see it was through bootlegs. But now the EBC has released it in full on dvd, plus extras, like special interviews with the cast and such."

"Ok, that's cool, I guess."

"Mega cool! I can't wait to see it in all it's high definition glory!" Fred joyously squealed only to sober up as they neared the comic shop. "There's only one problem."

"What's that?"

"Richardson Mole" Fred growled.

"Mole?" Varian echoed, confused.

"My arch nemesis, remember? His is the only comic store in town that currently has any copies. The rest won't get theirs till next week!"

"Then why not wait until next week to get it then?" Varian very sensibly asked.

Fred looked at him aghast, "And let Mole gloat over getting to see it a whole week early!? Un-uh! No way! Buuuuut he won't sell me a copy; so that's why you're here."

Fred wrapped an arm around Varian's shoulder and pointed at the other teen's chest as he recounted his plan.

"You see, Minimax and I will cause a distraction drawing Mole outside. While he's gone, you quickly grab a dvd from the display stand and mix it up with a bunch of other stuff you're going to purchase and dump it all on the counter. Hopefully he'll be so annoyed by what me and Minimax have planned, that he won't notice that he sold you a copy along with all the other things you grabbed. It's the perfect plan!" Fred rubbed his hands together devilishly.

"Uh...hun….Ooor I could just walk in there and buy a copy outright instead of paying for a bunch of stuff I don't want." Varian countered.

"You know... that's so crazy…it just might work. Minimax; new plan!" Fred yelled after his robot.

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

The comic shop was not much different from the store inside the mall that Fred had taken Varian to on his first day in San Fansokyo. The main difference was it was a freestanding building and the cashier was a short child perhaps only a few years younger then Varian himself.

"Hello, welcome to my sho--oh it's you, Fred." The kid interrupted his enthusiastic greeting towards Varian the moment Fred walked in behind him.

"Why hello, Mole, unpleasant as ever I see." Fred retorted back with equal disdain.

Mole only sighed and rolled his eyes. "What do you want Fred?"

"Oh contraire, it's not what I want but what my friend here wants." Fred gently but firmly nudged Varian up to the counter as he said this. "Tell him Varian."

"Uhhh...I'd like the newest Professor What DVD...the lost episode one?... P-please." Varian wasn't sure what he had expected when Fred first asked him to come along on this quest for a DVD, but being glared at by a very irritated 12 year old from across the counter wasn't it. Moreover he hated being put on the spot like this. He really had no context for this apparent feud Fred had with this kid.

"Really?" Mole raised an eyebrow. "And there's no chance that my rival Fred here didn't put you up to the task of buying the dvd for him?"

"Uh...d-does it matter?" Varian shrugged, now completely bewildered. He had assumed Fred was only exaggerating about Mole, same as he exaggerated about just everything, but no, turns out that the pre-teen really was that petty.

"Uh, of course it matters." The kid replied as if Varian had missed something obvious. "I have the only copies in town and in limited quantities. I'll only sell them to true fans of the series, otherwise someone might just buy from me and then sell it at a mark up price online or something. Now why should I give someone else that advantage when I can corner the market?"  

Varian raised an eyebrow at this explanation but Fred stepped in before he could say anything.

"Hey, Varian's a fan. We've been marathoning the series. Tell him, buddy." Fred gave Varian another nudge.

"Oh really? Well then, Varian, who is your favorite Professor?" Mole's voice dripped with incredulity.

"Y-you mean there's more than one?" Varian began to ask in confusion but Fred jumped him, covering Varian's ears with his hands. Though it did little good as Varian could still hear Fred shushing Mole.

"Shhh...Careful with the spoilers Mole!"

"I knew it! I knew It!" Mole yelled back. "You just dragged your friend over here to buy the special edition dvd for you!"

"I did not!" Fred snapped back.

Minimax jumped up onto the counter and pointed a finger at Mole. "No one accuses my Fred of trickery, foul villain. For even though that is indeed the plan and you must have only deduced that with your nefarious cunning."

"Minimaaaax!" Fred whined.

Varian was losing his patience. He shoved Fred off him. "Look, yes, I came here to buy the DVD so Fred and I could watch it in our marathon. But so far we've only watched the first season and more copies are arriving in a week, so what does it matter!?"

"Wait? You've only seen season one, as in the original series first season from 1963?" Mole asked.

"Uh..Yeah?"

"That's what I was trying to tell you, Mole." Fred interrupted again. "He's going into the series completely blind. He doesn't know about… r-e-n-e-w-a-l yet."

"Renewal?" Varian echoed now even more confused. Fred had tried to drop his voice to a whisper but Varian heard anyway.

Mole's entire demeanor magically changed. Gone was his standoffish and combative nature and in its place was a look of genuine excitement.

"Ooooh, how I envy you my friend! Imagine being able to experience the whole series fresh! Oh..oh, then what's your favorite story so far?"

"Ummm...I liked the one we just finished… it's the one where they're stuck in the middle of the French Revolution."

"Interesting choice." Mole said intrigued. "So who's your favorite assistant?"

"Well I don't if she counts as an 'assistant' but my favorite character so far is the Professor's granddaughter, Sue."

"Yeees!" Mole exclaimed suddenly, taking Varian a back. "Finally, someone who sees sense! Sue is so underappreciated. You know what?" Mole continued as he reached behind the counter to pull a dvd box off the shelf. "Just to show my support in your endeavor to embark on such a daunting quest as to view the entirety of Professor What, here is the dvd to complete the collection, free of charge."

"Really?" Varian asked bewildered as Mole handed him the coveted copy.

"Yup, just come back and let me know how you enjoyed the later seasons, or stop by and maybe check out some of the other Professor What merch I got for sell."

Mole cheerily waved goodbye as Varian, Fred, and Minimax walked out of the shop.

"What just happened?" Fred asked.

Varian opened the thin box to see the disc inside. "Well, apparently your mortal enemy just gave me a free dvd."

"I don't trust it." Fred said darkly. "Mole is up to something."

"Do you want me to return it?"

"No!" Fred quickly exclaimed and reached out to grab the case. But Varian snatched it back out of his reach.

"Now, now, he did give it to me, you know." Varian said as if reprimanding a small child and a sly grin slowly formed on his face.

"Oooh, but.. But I waited years to see it… pleeesee."

Fred was practically crawling over him to get to the dvd but Varian fended him off while trying unsuccessfully to stifle his laughter.

"I'll tell you what… I'll let you have it…but for a price."

"Name it."

Varian thought for a moment. "I wanna drive the limo."

"Oh… but Heathcliff…" Fred stopped mid sentence as Varian waved the dvd in his face, his crooked smile growing wider.

"Ok. Fine." Fred relented. "But on one condition. Heathcliff has to teach you how to drive it."

"Deal."

They shook hands and Varian handed over the movie.

"Huhzzah!" Minimax proclaimed. "And once again the heroes have concluded their quest and now return home victorious!"

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

"Hey Mole," Fred shouted as he sauntered into the comic shop. "Do you got any replacement parts for a limited addition Space Hike laser gun? I kind of broke mine dur---"

Fred's voice trailed off when he noticed that the little store was empty. A week had passed since he and Varian had procured the Professor What DVD and Fred hadn't seen nor heard from his nemesis in that time. Fred didn't think that was too odd, it wasn't like he and Mole talked daily or anything, but it was suspicious for his rival to leave the store unattended without closing shop first.

Fred's senses went on alert and he instinctively went into stealth mode: dropping to the ground and crouching on tiptoe as he looked for booby traps on the shelves, behind the doors, and under the displays.

He didn't find any.

Though as he ransacked the counter during his search, he did hear the distant sound of laughter and music coming from the "staff only room." Which wasn't a room really. It was an elevator that went into the basement. Mole had a private arcade down there and must have been playing video games and had simply forgotten to lock up.

Satisfied that there was no danger of a prank literally blowing up in his face and covering him in some sort of slime or soap bubbles or something else that was similarly messy (Fred never forgot that time when Mole dumped dumped a bucket of chocolate fudge on his head five years ago) he decided to go down stairs to ask Mole about the previously mentioned parts.

What he found was far worse than a bucket of chocolate syrup.

In the basement Varian and Mole were both playing a video game. It was an old stand up arcade machine and on it was a retro beat 'em up. Both seemed to be enjoying themselves and called good natured taunts as they furiously pressed buttons trying to one up the other.

Neither had noticed Fred enter.

"Oh you're going down now!" Mole cheered.

"In your dreams!" Varian laughed.

He pressed the block button and his little pixelated character averted a punch from Mole's pixelated avatar and then grabbed said character into a hold and bodied slammed him to the ground.

"K.O.!" A distorted voice from the machine announced and Varian threw up his hands in victory.

"Ah…. Man!" Mole bemoaned. "You got lucky. I had you on the rocks."

"Yeah, I did." Varian admitted with a snicker.

"Best two out of three then?" Mole asked.

"Naw.. I got an essay I need to finish bef-" Varian paused mid-sentence as he turned around and finally saw Fred. Who just stood there with his mouth agape.

"Uh...hi, Fred."

Fred just pointed his finger at them and made an unintelligible sound like a cross between a gasp and a squeal.

"How the heck did you get in here Frederickson?" Mole said irritably.

This seemed to awaken Fred from his stupor.

"Betrayal!" He shouted, still pointing his finger accusingly at them both.

"Now Fred, don't overreact." Mole chided. "My friend Varian and I were just playing a friendly little game of Street Combat."

"Friend? Friend ?! My bestest buddy and protégé playing video games with my arch nemesis and mortal rival! This just like when Captain Fancy found the Fearless Ferret robbing banks with the Toymaker in Earth's Greatest #20!"

"Fred…" Varian started to reason with a weary sigh but Fred interrupted him.

"No. I don't want to hear it!" And with that he turned around on his heel and marched back into the elevator. "But mark my words Varian, Mole can't be trusted." And with this warning he pressed the first floor button and the elevator doors closed.

Varain rolled his eyes and followed after his friend. "Sorry Mole, I gotta go smooth things over with Fred. I'll see ya later."

"Okay, oh I almost forgot" the Professor What convention is next month. You want to go?" Mole replied as Varian hurried over to the elevator.

"Yeah sure, sounds like fun."  Varian answered back distractedly. "I'll see ya then." He waved bye to Mole as the door to the elevator closed.

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

When the elevator opened back up Varian saw Fred stomping away down the sidewalk outside and raced after him.

"Fred! Fred, wait up!"

"Why? So that you can stab me in the back again?" Fred called after.

"Fred...you're being ridiculous."

He stopped, incensed, and fumed at Varian, "Ridiculous?! Oh, I'm being ridiculous now am I?"

"Yeah, you are." Varain stated matter-of-factly.

"Oh, I see how it is. Crazy Fred is just being paranoid again. It can't possibly be that Mole has been trying to ruin my life since he was in dippers. Seriously, when I first met him he was a week old and I had to be the one to change him. It was all downhill from there."

Varian crossed his arms and gave Fred a reproachful look.

"Oh you don't believe hun?" Fred defended, "Well did he tell you about the time he cut the power to my house so he could win the online auction for Captain Fancy 133? Or the time he spilled hot fudge on me at his 7th birthday party? How about the time he stole my prized Captain Fancy pants? Oh, or how he bought out the mech wrestling league just so I couldn't own it? And he doesn't even like wrestling!!"

Varian didn't answer and kept up his disapproving glare.

"I tell you Mole is just using you to get to me. Don't you see? It'd be the ultimate revenge if he stole my protégé away--."

"Ok, first off, I'm not your "protégé" or "apprentice" or whatever, and second off, Mole never mentioned you the entire time we've hung out. Couldn't it just be possible that he wants to be friends with me and that you're making a big deal out of nothing?"

"Oh really? Then how would you feel if I started hanging out with that princess you hate so much? Rapunzel! Yeah, wouldn't you be hurt if I became pals with your mortal enemy."

A shadow fell across Varian's face and his mildly annoyed glare transformed into cold steely gaze.

"Fred."

"Y-yeah."

"Rapunzel left me, my father, and my entire village to die. Your 'mortal enemy' just buys the same stuff that you want."

Fred looked like a man who had just had a glass of ice water splashed in his face.

"Ooookay...I-I'm beginning to see the difference…"

Now it was Varian's turn to storm off in a huff leaving Fred to stand there bewildered.

"Wait! … She did that ?!" He turned and ran after Varian. "I thought fairy tale princesses were supposed to be nice?"

"Well, they're not, and my life is not a fairy tale Fred."

Fred pouted as he tagged long after Varian, unsure of what to say now.

Varian stopped at the bus stop to wait on his ride home and Fred sheepishly stared at his shoes. After a few awkward minutes he spoke up.

"H-hey, Varian.."

"What."

"I'm sorry….maybe I overreacted a little?"

"A little?" Varian raised an eyebrow.

"Alright, a lot. But I just don't understand why you want to even hang out with Mole."

Varian heaved a heavy sigh and relented. "Look...I just, don't have many friends ok? And before I came here I didn't have any friends. So if someone invites me to hang out with them then I wanna go. Cause that doesn't happen often, and I don't like being alone, and....and Mole doesn't know who I am or about my past. Same as Carol, or Karmi… It's just nice to feel normal for once."

"Annnd you can't feel normal around me cause I know you're magic, right?"

"For the last time Fred, I'm not magic." He growled through his teeth and then in a gentler voice said. "Also, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, you're not normal."

"Fair. Though, if we're talking 'normal' I don't think Mole counts either."

"Maybe not, but I don't think he has a lot of friends either. I guess in that way we have something in common."

Fred looked thoughtfully at that. It was true, Mole really didn't have any friends; a combination of homeschooling and being a huge nerd had left the kid pretty isolated. Fred understood that. He'd been there too, but then again he wasn't a huge jerk to people.

"I still don't get it…. Buuutt if you want to hang out with Mole I'm not going to try and stop you."

"And you're not going to pitch a fit, or sulk, or argue with me if I do?"

Fred heaved a sigh. "No. I'll be very mature about it….also very confused…but I'll be cool, promise."

"So we're still friends?" Varian asked with some slight trepidation.

"Well of course we're still friends! That was never in question. Friends have fights sometimes, ya know, but they always stick together in the end."

He gave Varian a playful nudge on the shoulder and Varian smiled back.

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

Big Hero Six walked away from the college campus and headed towards the parking lot where Wasabi had parked his car. The gang of teenagers laughed and conversed until the squeal of tires on pavement sounded off in the distance and the sound of motor revving became louder and louder.

Soon a fire red sports car came barreling down the drive towards them. They jumped back as the car skidded to a halt next to them, making black marks on the pavement.

The little group stared in shock at the close call and a window rolled down to reveal the driver.

"Hey guys!" Varian cheerfully called out, oblivious to the fright he had caused them.

"Varian, what are you doing!?" Wasabi yelled.

"Oh, Heathcliff is giving me driving lessons."

The Frederickson's faithful butler tilted his head to give the other teens a better look at him. He was dressed in his usual work attire but save for the pair of sunglasses he wore. He said nothing but his stoic face broke into a sly grin and he gave a thumbs up.  He was clearly enjoying being chauffeured around for a change.  

"Yeah, Fred let me borrow his car to practice with." Varian continued and then turned to the man sitting beside him. "You were right Heathcliff, this is cooler than the limo."

At this Gogo punched Fred in the right arm.

"Oww, what was that for?" He rubbed his arm ruefully.

"You never let me borrow the race car!" She said deeply offended.

Hiro also gave Fred's left arm a much lighter smack just to get his attention. "Yeah, and I got a learners permit; same as Varian."

"Yeah but I'll get my actual license before you so I need the practice more." Varian smugly replied.

Heathcliff interrupted this friendly spat with his usual soft spoken British accent, "Master Varian, how about we learn how to pass other cars safely on the road next; and see how fast this bad boy can really go."

"Heck yeah!" Varian laughed. He moved the gear out of 'park', yelled "See ya!", and slammed on the gas. The car took off like a shot; burning rubber as it went.

"Oh what fresh horror have you unleashed?" Wasabi asked Fred as everyone stared dumbstruck after the boisterous teen and renegade butler.

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Hey I’ve recently lost my job and am currently hunting for work so story updates will be slow. 

If you would like to help out you can all way support me on ko-fi 

https://ko-fi.com/rachelbethhines

[majimemegoro]

as a huge fan of depicting scenes i absolutely want to read how you envisioned sato and okudera's first interactions yes please

Ok !!! I'm not fully pleased with it yet, but this one is for you, comrade! anyone please share any thoughts or advice you have. *FROZEN ROAR SPOILERS*

November When Sato woke up, at first he was surprised that he wasn’t in his cell. He had gotten used to that dim, miserable little room. But instead he was - what, in some kind of shack? There was worn wood overhead, and the smell of dirt and woodsmoke. He blinked blearily up at the low ceiling and shifted a little as he struggled to remember where he was, and how he had gotten here. Then there was a shuffling sound to one side, and a face was looming over him. And Sato found himself staring into the eyes of his mark. Okudera, 51 years old, 1.8 meters, 86 kilograms. He was bearded, and his hair had grown longer, but it was unmistakeably the man from the photograph Sato had been given, smuggled in rolled up in a toilet paper tube. Urgently Sato tried to sit up, succeeding only in raising himself onto his elbows and sending a wave of excruciating pain through his body. A flash of white overtook his eyes, and then faded away. He swallowed with difficulty. “Oh no,” the man said, backing away a little, “Don’t move! You have a nasty frostbite, you’ll damage your tissues.” Frostbite. Yes. Sato had been thrown from the snowmobile, and wandered for awhile, and been sure he was going to freeze to death. But he was alive. And his mark, the man who had apparently been impossible to find for two years already, also seemed to be alive. If only he could confirm the identity for sure- “I’m Okudera, by the way,” the man said. Sato let out a shaky breath and lowered himself back down onto the bedroll. “What’s your name?” Okudera asked. Sato said nothing. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll just go into town and check the news to see which inmate recently escaped from Abashiri.” Reflexively Sato tried to sit up again, and pain shot through his body anew. He considered lying, but - the location, the uniform - it was obvious. There was no point. “Turn me in, then,” he rasped. Even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t be able to kill Okudera quickly in this state. This whole hit was turning into a mess. Instead of tracking Okudera, offing him in one good, clean swoop that would look like an accident, and then disappearing again, Sato was injured and at the mercy of the man he was supposed to kill. But Okudera shook his head, and crouched over the fire, poking at it with a stick. “I don’t want to turn you in,” he said. “I just want to know your name.” Again Sato considered lying, but as Okudera had just pointed out, it was an easy thing to fact-check. Sato’s mugshot was probably papered all over Sapporo by now. “Sato. Sato Kiyoshi.” “Nice to meet you, Sato,” Okudera said. “Are you hungry?” Sato was, in fact, hungry. He turned his head to look around the little hovel and saw there was a fireplace with a pot over it. “...Yes,” he admitted. “Great,” Okudera said. “You still shouldn’t move much, but if you can prop yourself up a little, I can tenderly feed stew into your mouth.” He threw a grimy pillow at Sato’s face. Sato gingerly maneuvered it behind his neck. Okudera finished preparing two bowls of stew and scooted over beside Sato, placing a bowl down. There was a moment’s pause. “Oh, I was kidding about feeding you,” Okudera said lightly. “Moving your arms a little isn’t going to kill you. Probably.” Scowling, Sato managed with difficulty to get into a hunched sitting position. The stew was hot, the meat tender. It was seasoned plainly, with just salt and onions. Sato tried to eat slowly, moving his arms as little as possible. It was difficult not to just wolf it down; it had probably been over 24 hours since he had eaten. “...How long was I out?” he asked between bites. Okudera swallowed what must have been a giant bite, from the effort it seemed to take, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “A whole day,” he said. “I carried you back late last night, and now it’s late again. I don’t know what time. It’s been dark for hours already.” He began shovelling food into his mouth once more. Sato nodded, and resumed feeding himself. The meat was a bit gamey. It

conjured up very old memories. “...Is this rabbit?” he asked. Mouth full, Okudera nodded. His eyes widened a little, as though he were impressed that Sato could recognize the meat by its flavour and texture. But he didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he swallowed another massive bite. “By the way,” he said, “I don’t suppose you have any contraband on you?” Sato narrowed his eyes. “What?” “You know. Isn’t jail a hotspot for contraband? Do you have any cigarettes or drugs?” “Uh, no.” “Aw. Shit,” Okudera said good-naturedly. “Oh well. Can’t have everything in this world.” And he turned his attention back to the food. Can’t have everything, huh, Sato reflected sarcastically, observing the surroundings. It seemed more like Okudera had almost nothing. The building they were in was more alike in size to a hunting hut than a proper house, and one in a poor state of upkeep at that, but the impressive array of items hung on the rough walls and piled at the edges of the floor - more than any man could carry with him - left no doubt that this was Okudera’s permanent dwelling. Wary of seeming too observant, Sato looked back down to his rabbit stew and kept eating.

[...]

“You’re lucky I found you out there,” Okudera said conversationally. “If I’d been half an hour later you probably wouldn’t have made it.” Sato didn’t reply. He was thinking about the little hearth, about having a fire in such a small, derelict structure; thinking about whether it would be possible, in theory, to suffocate Okudera and somehow blame the death on the fire. Burn the place to the ground, with Okudera inside. Preferably already dead, since Okudera looked strong and the walls didn’t. Destroy the evidence that way. It was possible. But Sato didn’t yet know if anyone else knew he was here. He cleared his throat. “Do you live alone?” he asked. His voice still hoarse, more than usual. But he had almost frozen to death. “Nope,” Okudera said. “This guy is staying with me. I rescued him from the mountain. He’s an escaped convict from Abashiri.” Sato’s eyes narrowed. “...Are you talking about me?” “No, I’m taking about the other escaped convict I rescued,” Okudera said sarcastically. Then, “Yes, idiot, I’m talking about you.” So Okudera did live alone. And with any luck, he wasn’t close with any neighbours he had, as might be predicted from the fact that no one had been able to track him down until now. Getting close to anyone was dangerous for a wanted man. Sato nodded slowly. “I hate to impose on you,” he said. He would have to exaggerate the effects of the hypothermia and frostbite, maybe even fake an illness until he had a foolproof plan, so Okudera would think he was weak. “As soon as I recover I’ll depart-“ “Ah, I don’t really care,” Okudera said. “You can stay as long as you want. But,” he added sharply, “I’m trying to make money, here, so you’ll have to learn to hunt if you want to stick around. I’m not wasting good game on you if I can help it.” “I don’t eat much,” Sato said. Okudera scoffed. “Be grateful I fed you anything,” he said. “I don’t owe you shit.” “Why did you save me?” Sato asked. “You seem like a pretty selfish guy.” The comment had been calibrated to make Okudera angry, but instead he just made a stern, motherly look. “My dear man,” he said. “Can’t a selfish guy do something out of character, if he wants to?” What an odd, dangerous thought. Sato flexed his aching fingers, judging how long it would be before they regained enough strength to pull a trigger, to grasp a knife, to wring a man’s neck. Not long. Not long. But Sato was a professional, and he didn’t want to leave any loose ends. So he needed to learn more about his target. For now, he would bide his time. Learn how to hunt, if he had to. And he said, “I guess.”

[midnight-aether]

Why Vox by Christina Dalcher is not a good novel: Review & Analysis

The premise of this novel is incredibly interesting, don’t get me wrong: Vox (2018) is about a dystopian future, in which US American women are only allowed to speak 100 words per day and must wear a bracelet that shocks them if they go over that limit. Women also aren’t allowed to write, read or use sign language. The main character is a genius linguist called Jean who hates every man in her life, including her husband Patrick and her own sons.

The first sentence already tells us three things about this novel: (1) it’s told from a first-person perspective, which means the reader will be aware of the protagonist’s every thought, (2) the oppressive regime in the novel goes by the name of Pure Movement, so it’s probably going to have something to do with religion, and (3) the action takes place in the span of a week, which I feel like it’s a huge spoiler for the fact that I won’t care for any of the characters at the end of the book, since there’s only so much character development that can happen in that time.

If anyone told me I could bring down the President, and the Pure Movement, and that incompetent little shit Morgan LeBron in a week’s time, I wouldn’t believe them.

There will be spoilers from this point on.

The Setting and the Protagonist

The main character in Vox, Dr. Jean McClellan, is a specialist researcher in the field of aphasia, that is, according to Wikipedia, “an inability to comprehend or formulate language because of damage to specific brain regions”. At some point in the novel we are made aware that a colleague of Jean’s, with her help, has discovered a cure for aphasia, even though they are both linguists and neither a chemist nor a medical researcher. However, she was unable to publish this discovery, due to the conveniently timed sexist apocalypse that stripped her of all her academic titles, as the reader is often reminded.

Jean is married to her husband Patrick and has four children with him:  three boys and a girl. Jean evidently resents every man in her family,  especially Patrick and their 17-year-old son, Steven. Apparently they’ve  all been very quickly indoctrinated to believe women shouldn’t be  allowed to speak, so they treat Jean and Sonia, the daughter,  accordingly.

There is a whole subplot about Steven, but it’s so plain and uninteresting that there isn’t much to say about it. Basically, he is all for the Pure Movement and their ideals of purity for women, but then still sleeps with his high school girlfriend and proceeds to tattle on her. When she is taken away to a camp, he realizes his mistake a leaves to save her. At some point he is captured by the Movement and ridiculed on TV. Jean doesn’t really care that he’s gone, but is pleasantly surprised when he reappears at the end safe and sound.

At this point, the Pure Movement has only been in power for less  than a year and a half. This movement is very overtly described as a Christian uprising that originated within the bible belt  and had spread to the entirety of the USA. The followers of the  Movement also adopt overly conservative views on gender roles, marriage  and sex, leaving very little doubt about the roots of the oppressive regime in Vox.

The Plot

The main intrigue in Vox begins when the brother of the US president starts suffering from aphasia after a “skiing accident” and the government comes to Jean for help, despite her being a woman in a society that literally won’t let women speak. Why do they come to her instead of going to any other male scientist? Because apparently Jean is the best linguist in the whole country... even though, as far as the government (and the reader) knows, she’s only been researching aphasia for a couple of years and hasn’t found a cure yet. Well, the author herself has a doctorate in linguistics (not in the field of aphasia), which brings me to my first problem with this novel: the blatant and, quite frankly conceited, self-insert.

You may have noticed that I wrote “skiing accident” in quotation marks on the last paragraph. That’s because it’s hinted a couple of times throughout the novel that the president’s brother was actually injured on purpose by the government, but this turns out to be false. Later it seems like he was never even injured in the first place, but this is never clearly resolved, as the character himself never appears “onscreen”; however, it’s not a cliffhanger that perpetually haunts the reader.

Back to the story: Jean agrees to help because, by taking the job, she and her daughter get to remove the shock bracelets for the duration of the research. The government then proceeds to give Jean one week (remember the novel’s first sentence) to produce a cure that, to the best of their knowledge, hasn’t even been found yet. If that sounds like a stretch, they even let her work with her old research team of three people, which is supposed to fully convince the reader that a week is a completely plausible time frame to discover, produce, test and approve a cure for an illness.

The Side Characters

This team is composed of Jean, her former colleagues Lin and Lorenzo, and their supervisor Morgan, who you might remember from the novel’s opening sentence. Morgan is apparently an idiot linguist who is very unfit for his position, which is supposed to show how twisted the society in Vox is, as they put the dumb people in charge just because they’re men, and silence the smart women. What it actually does is show that this version of the USA apparently only has a handful of linguists and no other skilled scientists.

This is the novel’s description of Lin:

Lin Kwan is a small woman. I often told Patrick she could fit in one of my pant legs – and I’m only five and a half feet and 120 soaking wet, thanks to the stress diet I’ve been on for the past several months. Everything about her is small: her voice, her almond eyes, the sleek bob that barely reaches below her ears. Lin’s breasts and ass make me look like a Peter Paul Rubens model. But her brain – her brain is a leviathan of gray matter. It would have to be; MIT doesn’t hand out dual PhDs for nothing.

Here we learn that Lin is small, not conventionally attractive (read: small boobs and ass), and finally that she is incredibly intelligent. For some reason, Jean finds it important to describe Lin’s curves, as well as her own, before mentioning Lin’s intelligence. No, this novel was not written by Michael Bay. Also, for representation’s sake, Lin is Asian and a lesbian, yet every other major character in this novel is a white straight person.

Well, there is another lesbian in this story, actually. Jean’s old college roommate, Jackie Juarez, who Jean hasn’t seen since before the machocalypse. We get to know Jackie through flashbacks: the novel tries to portray her as this loud, over-the-top feminist who often tries to make Jean join the rallies and protests against the growing Pure Movement. Alas, Jean chooses to focus on school instead of going to protests and forever regrets this, thinking that if only she had fought, she might have changed history.

I don’t know how to feel about this novel’s depiction of Jackie. She is made out to be a stereotypical feminist lesbian, who actively protests against the uprising of the Pure Movement, and yet whose efforts are in vain. Here is an excerpt that characterizes how Jean sees Jackie, and therefore how the reader is supposed to see her:

“You have to vote, Jean,” [Jackie] said, throwing down the stack of campaign leaflets she’d been running around campus with while I was prepping for what I knew would be a monster of an oral exam. “You have to.”

“The only things I have to do are pay taxes and die,” I said, not holding back the sneer in my voice. That semester was the beginning of the end for Jackie an me. I’d started dating Patrick and preferred our nightly discussions about cognitive processes to Jackie’s rants about whatever new thing she had found to protest.

Here you can see that Jean clearly dismisses Jackie and “whatever new thing she had found to protest”, and instead muses about what an intellectual she is. I understand that this is a flashback, and it’s supposed to show that Jean was wrong not to care about protesting the Pure Movement, but this is told from present Jean’s perspective, so it’s clear she still rolls her eyes at Jackie’s activism in general. It feels like Vox is trying to say that actively expressing your ideas and concerns is useless, since Jean eventually overthrows the government with science and not through activism – and it even takes her no longer than a week to do it, as we learn at the beginning of this novel. There is a lot to unpack here,  but I still wouldn’t recommend thinking too hard about the ideas in this book.  

Jackie only becomes relevant to the plot towards the end. At some point she is held hostage by the government, so that Jean is forced to finish her work. Why the government chose to kidnap Jean’s old college roommate who she hasn’t seen or spoken about in years instead of, say, her daughter, we will never know. In the end, Jackie is only there so that Jean can save her and “redeem” herself for not having been there for Jackie in the past.

Lorenzo, the last member of the team, is Jean’s love affair since way before the Pure Movement effectively took over. The novel likes to remind the reader that Jean is with the Italian hunk Lorenzo because she despises her husband Patrick, so that makes cheating okay. Eventually we learn that Jean is pregnant with Lorenzo’s child, so he offers to let her escape with him to Italy as his wife. Yet Jean can’t allow herself to leave without her daughter Sonia – she’s fine with never seeing any of her sons again, though. She considers this for a while as she works on the cure for aphasia.

The Ending

At some point during the week, Lin disappears (we later learn she was imprisoned due to big gay activity). Jean and Lorenzo announce that they’ve discovered the cure and even test the serum on a random neighbour of Jean’s who happens to have aphasia as well. Also, Jean’s mother had an aneurysm earlier that week and also started suffering from aphasia. The government is pleased with the results and take the serum away.

Later, Morgan, the supervisor, takes Jean and Lorenzo to a strange lab underground to have them further develop the cure. There they walk through a hallway full of chimpanzees in cages, and there is a bizarre scene in which Jean gets too close to a cage and is attacked by a chimpanzee. There is no purpose to this scene other than to shock the reader, honestly. Here, the novel briefly, yet disrespectfully brings up a very real woman who was mauled by a chimpanzee in 2009 and managed to survive (Wikipedia link, no pictures), by having Jean think something along the lines of “oh no, I don’t want to end up like her!” during the attack.

Jean is fine, obviously. We’re over 200 pages in and nearing the end of the novel when the first interesting development happens in the form of a plot twist: the government has been using their cure in order to create an anti-serum that gives people aphasia. Their plan is to create a more effective means to silence women, of course, since they  wouldn’t be able to comprehend or formulate language any more. When Jean discovers this, she wants to quit, but is forced to stay when they reveal they’ve been keeping Jackie, Lin and Lin’s girlfriend hostage in the same building for this very occasion. And maybe also Steven back at that camp, but we don’t even care about him at this point.

The climax of the story arrives, and everything happens so quickly the reader doesn’t have time to digest it. I had to reread what actually happened at the end, because I couldn’t remeber it anymore. I’ll try to recreate the pacing of the ending in the following paragraph, so you can understand what I mean:

Jean and Lorenzo save the lesbians (who are the only likeable characters, so that made me happy), Morgan dies, I think, and they escape with the anti-serum. Patrick appears and decides to help, so they send him to the White House with an anti-serum bomb that suceeds, giving the president and all evil politicians aphasia. Patrick is killed during this, freeing Jean from their marriage and allowing her to escape with Lorenzo and all of her children, whom she suddenly stopped resenting. The Pure Movement collapses and all is well, thanks to... well, thanks to Patrick and Lorenzo.

Conclusion

Vox is a mess of a novel. The characters are unlikeable, the plot is badly paced and the ending is too sudden. I really didn’t care about what happened to any character at any point, which is incredibly disappointing. Additionally, there are many things wrong with the political message in Vox, namely the idea that all religious people are inherently evil and that men generally wish to control and silence women. The premise was good, the writing was fine, but the performance was terrible, unfortunately. Vox feels like it was rushed to come out in time for the dystopian fiction craze of 2017-18 caused by the release of The Handmaid’s Tale TV series. Hopefully we’ll see better work from the author in the future.

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[axe-trio-commanders]

Immortality

Second time writing from one of several AU’s of my commanders! This one is... actually this one isn’t even really an AU, it’s. Actually just the cannon for someone else’s commanders, and we decided it’d be fun to put Seremnis in there. This fic is actually about the first time she more officially meets the rest of this universe’s Dragon’s Watch! It’s... it’s an eventful meeting. A whole big lot of lws4 spoilers inbound, as well as a... just a whole lot of blood and gore and Bad Dead Things Sounds. Not sure if it’s enough to count as the... actual body horror I was going for, but. Hey, these things never go as planned anyways, so... have fun! (Also blame @actually-an-octopus for... Well, this au specifically, but also all the other ones)

"The rumors of my... immortality, are drastically... understated..."

She watched, comfortably perched in a high, shadowed corner of the room. It was far from the first time she'd been there, listening in on the lich's various conversations- most of them overly long, drawn out monologues. Thorns, he could make a monologue out of anything. She'd expected this time to be different, considering how much planning he'd apparently done, but... there he was, still droning on, and on…

She looked to the white-furred charr he was trying to intimidate, almost completely ignoring the norn by her side... quite frankly, she wasn't surprised that the lich hadn't noticed her hiding spot. He had quite the tendency for tunnel vision, and it was especially apparent now- all the sylvari was surprised about was that the Vigil commander hadn't come with, though she did spot his deadeye warband member. She'd long-since stopped flinching at the crackling of the lich's bones, the way tar and dried skin squelched as he righted himself... she had spent far too much time in this palace. But, now that her commander was here, and she finally had a reason to…

She was sure there'd be backup. The commander of whispers wouldn't come without a plan for backup- but while they were waiting for backup to arrive…

The small sylvari dropped, soundlessly, to the floor, the light of various sigils on the floor and up her arms beginning to glow a harsh white. She felt power flowing into her form, bark snapping and beginning to drip sap that hit the floor with a dull hiss, and then- it burst, a spray of golden sap lost in the abrupt swirl of green and black fog, raw necromantic power just begging to be used- and, eyes on the opposing lich, she'd simply... let it. The floor turned to swiss as a hoard of unstable, screeching minions crawled out of it from some dark corner of the mists, flinging themselves at Joko in a bloody mass and quite literally exploding as he tried to gain control over them- and, well, of course, she'd take the opportunity to siphon what power she could. She simply... relished in it for a few moments, savoring the *rush* that a mild case of possession could give someone.

"You- heathen!" Joko shouted, flinging the last of the minions across the room as it spattered against the wall in a sickening crunch, blood coating the gilded walls in a fine mist as it, too, exploded. "You'd betray your benefactor in his moment of triumph?"

She let out a dark laugh, voice echoing and distorted as her ill-gotten form faded- and she'd let herself fall directly into her shade, dark shadows swallowing her form as she concentrated the power she'd stolen into volatile form. Her vision quickly went dark, excepting a few lights in the room- larger, smaller blue, dark orange, bright orange... sick, twisting, tumbling green and black- she'd let the energy loose towards that one, watching a portion of it dissipate into the air, scattered.

"...-ards! Fix this!"

Hm... more of them. Extensions of that sickly life force- oh so familiar. She heard the muffled sounds of notched arrows, grinning in a way only shades could. She'd simply... tilt her head to the side, feeling the small breeze of projectiles whizzing past- saw the new life force begin to drain out of them in thick globs, and pulling it to herself en masse with a mere twitch of a semi-physical finger.

It was muffled enough in her shade to ignore it as she continued her attack, but he was still talking. On fire as he might be, as much life force as she stole and ripped away, he still-

"Enough!"

The small sylvari stumbled back a step as she returned to her physical form, staff gripped in both hands. He hadn't really done that himself- she'd simply run out of excess life force- but she was content to let him think it was.

"You are no commander, no dragon-killer," the lich snarled, a chill running up her spine as the entire space cooled considerably. Sensible alternative to ice magic, in a desert. "And yet you think you have the ability to dethrone the magnificent lich-king?!"

She paused, straightening as if she had to take a moment to consider- only for him to interrupt again, circling her.

"I am immortal! You should know better, I've been teaching you for months! All that training to take the glorious position of my general, and this is-"

"Do you ever shut up?!" Seremnis snapped- watching with immense satisfaction as surprise, then outright rage showed itself upon the lich's face.

"You have no idea how much I've looked forward to this- just listening to you is nauseating, not to mention the actual smell," she continued- taking casual stock of the awakened beginning to fill the rafters.

"You..." the malice in the one word filled the room. "You were made to serve-"

"Do you really love your own voice that much?" She rolled past a barrage of arrows, waving her staff across the floor and listening to the sounds of archers scrambling over themselves to flee. "I'd bet if you ever got your own speeches recorded, you'd do nothing but listen to them as your whole kingdom fell around you."

"And you don't have a loyal bone in your body."

"Sylvari don't have bones."

"Then what-"

"Teeth aren't bones."

"Fine, not a loyal leaf. You think anyone in your precious Tyria will let you back in? You've sold your soul to the highest bidder twice."

Seremnis barked out a laugh, watching the lich step towards her, only to be surrounded in a pen of poison, chill, and a flurry of small, invisible cuts.

"You really think I was ever on your side? I asked for control of your soldiers and didn't bat an eye when I took more! You really never caught on until now?" She tilted her head, tutting. "I expected better from you."

"Oh, you want 'better'?"

Okay- okay, that had maybe been pushing it a little, but he kept leaving himself so wide open for-

Seremnis danced back as a near-hoard of awakened began piling into the room, the dark shape of a scythe extending from her staff as she placed mark upon mark in the room, tripping and stunning them en masse, barely flinching as attacks began landing; claws, dripping tar, tearing through soft bark, dark sludge mixing with bright sap.

"If you really fancy yourself a good enough lich to replace me, why not prove it?"

The lich's voice rang out clear over the sea of snarls, and she... considered it. Prove it, hm?

She stood, ignoring the teeth currently digging into arm- focusing, instead, on channeling her own necromantic power through the awakened around her- to force them to stop, force them to turn on their master- and, slowly... she felt the teeth in her arm remove themselves, watched as heads in the awakened crowd her around her slowly, jerkily... 

With the sound of bone in friction with bone, tar and organs crushed to compensate, they turned their heads towards Joko. And, sap dripping in a thick ooze down her back and arm, Seremnis allowed herself a sly grin. A 'better lich', hm? Oh, she'd wanted to try this for so long... It'd worked, always, when the lich wasn't paying attention- sending awakened off on long trips around Elona, by the caves under Istan, ignoring the ever-increasing number of Tyrian awakened who, mysteriously, never returned- but in front of him? Really, it could make a necromancer blush.

Unfortunately, Joko didn't seem to share the sentiment, and she felt the ground beneath her... shift- swirling into sand, pulling her just deep enough to bury her feet before surrounding her- digging into wounds, then further, into and down her throat- she felt the awakened return to shredding through what remained... Distantly, she heard the lich saying something along the lines of "Now, where were we?"

And she grinned, croaking out her last words- a sigil of healing glowing beneath the mass, the life force of every awakened around her abruptly portioned in order to extend her own life just a little longer.

"...The rumors of my immortality... are greatly..."

She only heard part of the enraged response of "NO!" before shadows crawled up her arm- once again enveloping her as she stood- once again pulling on the life force of the awakened as they stumbled and fell, feeling the satisfaction of rejuvenation.

Her voice, once again twisted and warped, finished her earlier statement as she concentrated her stolen power to once again unleash.

"...understated."

...What? He'd probably plagiarized it from somewhere, too.

...

"You... you were a far better fight than I thought you'd be," Joko drawled.

She could almost see his smug face- but only almost, given that her own face was currently pinned to the ground by a smelly, smelly lich foot. The dirt irritated the several lacerations on her face, even as that somewhat paled in comparison to the canid's claws digging into her side to keep her down- and... thhorns, she could feel them moving, pressing into raw 'muscle', but... somehow, all she could think about was how absolutely terrible a lich's feet smelled. Experiencing death so often gave one a strange perspective on things, she supposed.

"I suppose I did train you-"

"You've ignored me for the past five months."

She flinched as he dug the bottom of his staff into her shoulder, twisting into soft bark.

"Silence! You learned by my mere presence. An unfortunate side effect of being as great as I am."

She suppressed the urge to groan. He was still talking. But... in keeping his anger focused, in drawing out the fight as long as she could... she had successfully kept his focus off her commander. In that, at least, she'd won.

"Really, I should have expected such treachery from such a morally twisted thing like you, commander," he continued- almost as an afterthought.

Oh... ohh, she was in- so much pain, but she... still couldn't stop the little, childish giggle that escaped her. "Y... you've never given credit to the right person in your llife, have you?"

She let a moment pass, let the question hover.

"...You're really going to tell me this... disaster was your idea?" Joko muttered.

Seremnis smiled, innocence playing on a face it didn't belong to.

"All she asked me to do was watch Aurene."

A beat of silence, and then...

The window shattered.

...

...She didn't... have the energy left, to fall back into shade. To heal herself. Joko had started starving her of it midway through the fight- with how easy it was to draw out, it wasn't hard for her to believe that the lich had intended to make her suffer. But now, with the awakened, evidently, no longer a moral option...

...But Symph was here. She'd be okay. Her commander was…

A thought rather immediately backed by fact as she felt a purer healing magic flowing through her form- taking a deep breath, despite the pain it caused. She listened to the somewhat muffled conversation around her, felt the druid's old fern hound lightly nose her face, lamenting momentarily that she hadn't brought any treats for him.

It was... it was over. The awakened were free. It was over...

--

...She stood, leaning against a decorative pillar in one of the more... shaded areas of the fortress of Jahai. She was doing her best to ignore the sidelong glances every side of the debate was giving her- she was used to it, she told herself. She wasn't a new little Whispers recruit. She'd given just about every side a reason to be suspicious- betrayed the pact, then betrayed Joko... even before she'd done any substantial work, she'd heard the angry mutterings of anyone who knew her to be a necromancer.

...But she was used to that.

She took a long breath, wincing at the pain that still lingered from the rather deep wound in her side. It'd almost made her miss this thing- and even then, she'd had to make the trip with an escort. It would be worth it, though, as soon as everyone was here.

She'd narrow her eyes as the debate between the factions droned on, despite Symph's best attempts to placate them. Seremnis understood the importance of it, of course, but... she didn't exactly envy the position.

"...Now we can finally begin the main event."

Seremnis looked up- catching sight of the increase in Mordant Crescent around the room, saw their drawn weapons. She narrowed her eyes, starting to pull necromantic power around herself, listening... admittedly, only a little closer, as the Archon continued his rant. Injured or not, if anything happened to Symph now...

"Awakened, sunspears- you're all pathetic. And now? You're-"

And the crack of a shotgun resounded through the rotunda, the Archon stumbling forwards- turning, in rage, to confront whoever had fired. Seremnis... let her magic fall away again, a small smile on her face. Yes, he was right. The main event was here.

The Archon only had time to spit a few more insults before Koss had him more... permanently silenced, even as many others in the room continued to look for the source of the gunfire.

And when they found it…

Another crowd of awakened followed Koss into the room- one in front decidedly Asuran, blowing a small trail of smoke away from a crystal-formed rifle, her wide, sharp-toothed grin seeming permanently affixed to her face as she surveyed the room. She was far from the only one there- Pact insignias, armor and weapons littered the new crowd of charr, asura, norn- even a few sylvari were scattered among the many humans in the awakened crowd.

Every one of them, Seremnis recognized. She knew most of their names- had them written on a long paper list of those the Pact had lost to Joko. If she hadn't snuck them out of the palace herself, before getting caught...

Well, they were simply unaccounted disappearances from the stealth-trained units Joko had given her command over. The great lich had no reason to suspect her replacing disappearances, after all.

Even if every one of them had disappeared around Istan.

Even if over half of them had been former pact members.

Even if he'd lost a quarter of his forces by the time the commanders launched their attack on the fortress.

What reason would he ever have to suspect a soft little lone sylvari, when he had plagues and dragon-killing commanders to deal with?

...What? She had always wanted to try double-crossing someone.