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couchpotatoaniki · 4 years ago

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Our Fruitless Tree

As children, the three of you were inseparable. To show this, you planted a mulberry tree together--a symbol of your love and ever-lasting friendship that would withstand the test of time. But would it really?

Pairing: Servant!Hongjoong x Royal!Reader x Nobleman!Seonghwa Genre: Royal AU, Arranged marriage AU, Love triangle, heavy angst, fluff, childhood friends to lovers (?), Fantasy AU, Warnings: swearing, mentions of conception, blood, death (unknown terminal illness; tree), unrequited love, extremely poor story-telling, magic torture, Word Count: 5.8k+

@atozfic IT MAY BE SHIT, BUT THIS ONE’S FOR YOU /g

A/N: the bridal bouquet in this is inspired by Princess Diana’s. I dunno, I just really liked it.

“Y/N! Come look over here!” Seonghwa yelled at you, hand waving in the air to beckon you over where Hongjoong and he stood. Even as children, the two were taller than you, as if their bodies had not cared you were of a higher status.

You were the only child of the Kingdom’s royal family, meaning that you had little in the way of friends. Especially when the future crown stuck to you, intimidating any future playmates. Luckily Seonghwa was the son of a family friend--a nobleman with immense power, who’s faithful lineage dated back to the creation of the kingdom.

Hongjoong was similar, the only difference being that he came from that of a servant family than of one of power, a debt made by his ancestors that had sold his life to serve the royal family. But being your servant had taught him from a young age that, unlike what everyone had tried to make you believe, you were pretty much a normal human with feelings, the weight of an entire empire on your shoulders from the day you were born.

“Coming!” you yelled back, hurriedly making your way towards your only two friends, the younger holding something behind his back while the older was practically bouncing with excitement. “What are you hiding from me?”

Grinning, Seonghwa’s hands pulled into sight, unfurling to show off the sapling in his hand. “It’s a mulberry tree! You love mulberries, don’t you?”

You believe that was the first time your heart skipped a beat--at the young age of 11--but you wouldn’t realise until a quite few years later, when life was much different, though the relationship between the three of you had not changed all that much.

That day was a precious memory, where the three of you had planted the young mulberry sapling in a secret garden that your father had built just for you, but you had opened it to Seonghwa and Hongjoong; a place where none of you had to bare the titles hovering over your heads.

Even the Earth was indiscriminate when it came to dirtying your clothes as you all kneeled to plant the young sapling easily becoming the most important thing in your friendship.

Had the three of you acting as if it was your shared child, arguing who would water the roots, talking to it as if it could respond.

As the years went on, life was much different than when you were all naïve children, but the care and love you had never weakened, even during the occasional arguments that burst between you all.

With age, Hongjoong’s untameable burnt-chocolate hair lightened to a gentle chestnut, long enough that he had to tie it back into a little bun. Seonghwa’s hair, on the other hand, had changed from a soft platinum to a dirty blonde, messy strands now pulled down into a neat style.

The two were lean. Both still taller than you, though Hongjoong was only a few inches from you.

The three of you truly believed you could withstand the test of time. That your relationship would never change no matter how long it had been.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” you whispered, hand clamped to the stone railing of your balcony. “It’s your last chance to back out, Seonghwa.”

You could hear chuckling beside you, deeper than what you used to hear as a kid, though you dared not to look at the boy--the man beside you. “You know very well I can’t do that, Y/N. Would rather it be me that’s marrying you than some officious fool who knows nothing of your happiness.”

Sighing, you leaned over, letting your necklace dangling slightly in the air from around your neck. “Doesn’t mean you have to sacrifice your own happiness.”

You felt two colder hands wrap around your exposed arms, feeling nice against the humid summer night. Seonghwa’s chin rested down on your shoulder, as he looked on the same scene you were. Soft breaths against your skin had it erupting with goosebumps, and you prayed your friend had not noticed.

He did, but didn’t pay much heed to it--as per usual. If only he would put a little more though into the strange quirks you developed over time--developed around him and him only--maybe he would have realised that you loved him.

More than a friend.

Both of you were too lost in the moment to realise someone had entered your room. The final person to complete your trio. Hongjoong, dressed in his crisp cream and gold uniform, overlooked the scene of you two.

He didn’t know why his heart hurt so badly.

Clearing his throat certainly got your attention, ripping away from each other in fear that someone had caught you two a night before the wedding doing something you shouldn’t have. Was nothing like that, but people--especially those in the castle--tended to blow things out of proportion.

Upon seeing that it was only Hongjoong, you two had released a breath of relief. “For heaven’s sake, Hongjoong! You almost gave me a heart attack,” you said. Seonghwa had his eyes averted to the polished marble floor, unable to meet his friend’s, cheeks flushed.

You thought it was because of embarrassment that someone had caught the two of you so late at night.

It wasn’t.

“I think it would be best for you to return to your room, Seonghwa. Before someone actually does come looking for you. Don’t want someone to see you too,” Hongjoong laughed, now an expert at making a light-hearted aura around him with years of practice.

“Alright then. Good night,” the nobleman smiled, finally bringing his sight up to see his best friend, heart beating feverishly when he saw the gentle smile pulling at his lips. Couldn’t tell it wasn’t real, not even as he left the room.

Now it was just you and Hongjoong.

“Come, let’s take a walk.”

For as long as you could remember, the boy had been attentive to your needs (despite his occasional silly behaviour), long before he was told that it was his job. You’d like to think of it as his sixth sense; knowing how you were, what you needed, when you needed him.

Maybe that’s why he could tell that you had pre-wedding jitters, feeling so sick you barely had the life in you--skin looking more dreary than usual. You needed time away, even for a few minutes, to take a breather from all the commotion.

The two of you walked in silence in the sleeping halls, like two thieves in the night, careful not to wake anyone up.

Hongjoong was aware you liked Seonghwa, but he knew it was unrequited. Why, he could not his finger on. You were prefect, a person who deserved all the love in the world--in the universe.

You knew better than to ask where he was taking you; after all, you trusted him. And maybe because you also knew him well enough to know where he was taking you.

To the secret garden.

“She’s withstood all the storms and droughts the earth has threatened her with. No wonder her bark is so thick and her roots so tough.” His voice was tender as the tips of his fingers brushed against the rough bark, the trunk appearing darker under the absence of the sun. “Gotten so big, hasn’t she?”

As if his actions were a trigger, your hand reached out to stroke the mulberry tree too. “She has...” Tender look in your expression had his breath caught in his throat. Your eyes shifted to meet his, which were already gazing at you. “Do you think she’ll bare fruit this time?”

“The frost has long passed, so not this year, I believe.” Hongjoong couldn’t bare the instant hollow look in your eyes, saddened to his core until the light reignited in your irises--almost glowing in the dark like the fireflies surrounding them.

“But she will next year, right?”

“And she will bare the tastiest fruit. Better than those sold on the markets,” he reassured, though he had an inkling of suspicion that this fruit would not come any time soon. Not after all these years. But that spark in your eyes was the only thing he could not bare to extinguish, so he kept his lips pursed.

“I was reading up on the symbolism of the mulberry trees across cultures,” you said, moving to sit on the wooden swing that hung from one of the stronger branches; the rope had rose vines growing around it, which Hongjoong made sure to maintain so it was safe for you whenever you came. This was your favourite spot, after all.

He raised a brow, moving behind you as his hands rested on your back momentarily before pushing you slightly. “Is that so? Mind telling me?” He already knew from his extensive research to look after the tree, but there was no harm in hearing it again.

Excitedly, you let a wide grin play against your lips as he gradually pushed you higher and higher. “So, in Xiqen, it’s seen as a link between Heaven and Earth, and in Mika, it represents a support, nurturing and self-sacrifice.”

“Is that all?”

“Uh...yes.”

“Strange... I could’ve sworn there was some significance of the mulberry tree in Zepheth.” He began to slow down when he saw your back slump over slightly. Probably because he knew that it wasn’t a happy story.

“There is,” you mumbled, eyes downcast to the evergreen grass rather than meet his soft chocolate ones. “Just... it’s very sad.”

He held your hands in his larger ones, both of you loving the warmth it provided despite the slight heat of the night. “Not all stories are happy. Need to hear the sad ones too, to truly understand the picture.”

Words were a bit cryptic, even for him. Regardless, you had continued. “In Zepheth, there were these two lovers who were forbidden to wed, so they secretly arranged to meet under the mulberry tree. However, they were found out, and killed under the tree, staining the white berries red... It symbolises star-crossed lover and the final union of death.”

The air seemed to be still, despite the rustling of the leaves and chirping of the hidden crickets. Hongjoong kneeled down, pressing a hand onto your cheek to soothe even the slightest bit the grief in your face. “Good thing the other two have nice symbols. Cancels the bad things out.”

Chuckling slightly, you rested your own hand on his, nuzzling into his palm as your eyes shut. Stark contrast between your skins, yours being softer than silk while his were calloused and rough. But it felt nice against the supple flesh of your cheek.

You both thought so.

But with the moon so high and hair beginning to stick to your necks from the humidity and heat, you thought it best to return. “Escort me to my chambers? After all, it is a very big day tomorrow and we both have to rise early for the final preparations.”

As if he needed reminding of that. “Very well then.”

Your servant wasn’t happy with the proceedings--not when he knew that Seonghwa’s eyes did not meet the passion you had in yours, despite your many years of friendship. But he had to agree with him on one thing.

Seonghwa was the best and safest choice you (and the kingdom) had in this moment of time.

So Hongjoong didn’t protest when you walked down the isle in the most breath-taking attire, adorned with pearls and jewels, and a gorgeous bouquet of green and white; gardenias, lily of the valley, earl mountbatten roses, freesia, and ivy--and most importantly, white mulberries.

He didn’t challenge when the vows were spoken and Seonghwa promised to love you and only you forever.

He didn’t object when the Priestess gave the crowd one last chance to speak or forever hold their peace before the deal was sealed with a kiss.

Despite his gut and every other fibre in his being screaming at him otherwise.

Another two decades passed, and now strands of white hairs were peeking through, but unlike before, much had changed. You were now a parent of three--triplets, conceived within the first few tries.

Yunho, San, and Wooyoung. The mulberries of your eyes.

You suppose that’s when the rose-tint on your married life began to fade. Though he was extremely affectionate in the beginning, Seonghwa never touched you like that again after the birth of your children. Though the three kids never really noticed it much as it was all they had known, you could see it clearly.

How he would spend more and more time in his office. How he would climb in bed and talk about your day, but doing nothing more. It was if you two had reverted back to friends--that very thought breaking your heart when you had loved him so dearly.

Felt as if he looked at your feelings as if it were a trinket in a shop before putting it back, not finding it suitable enough for him.

But for Seonghwa, that wasn’t the case at all.

He tried--he really did--to love you.

By now, time had made him wise enough to know of your compassion for him and he begged himself to return your feelings. Spent many nights while you were asleep praying to the entities residing in the Heavens, crying on the hard floor of the palace’s temple until his arms grew sore and his legs went numb.

But he could not look at any other. Seonghwa could not stop his heart knocking against his chest, his cheeks pooling with heat, whenever he saw Hongjoong smile, or laugh, or do the most menial of tasks.

Could not stop the thoughts of him being by his side rather than you--and it killed him to think that, especially when you have been nothing but kind and loving to the both of them--never giving your personal servant too much work or being too stubborn in wanting your husband’s affection. Instead of pressing too much, you worked on the kids and kingdom.

You were kind, selfless.

Maybe Seonghwa should have let someone else marry you. Maybe they could love you back for all those times he couldn’t.

But he supposes that the best thing out of this marriage was his children. Despite Yunho’s hyperactivity, San’s clinginess, and Wooyoung’s mischievousness, he loved the three to the moon and back.

Helped you in raising them over the last two decades into great people.

It was the only thing he couldn’t bring himself to regret.

That, and how it had given him the excuse to be closer with Hongjoong too, the two of them learning how to look after the triplets (one already proved to be a handful, but three was a nightmare) while you were unwell or busy with other business.

There were times where he glanced at his childhood friend, playing games with the young kids or feeding them or changing them, and had completely forgotten about you. All that swirled in his head was if this is what it would look like if Hongjoong and he had a family together.

Then Seonghwa would snap out of it a spilt second later, cold shame eating away at the warmth in his chest because how could he ever think of such a thing about the mother of his kids?

Meanwhile, Hongjoong--your intelligent and faithful servant--had figured this out too. Figured out the reason why he felt so sick to his stomach when he saw you be so loving towards a man who doesn’t love you back, and why said man could not reciprocate your feelings.

If Seonghwa felt guilty, then Hongjoong felt a million times worse.

Felt as if he was the reason you were in so much pain--and he could tell you were, because he was the one you came running to in the beginning, when your husband kept his wall up around you and you became so frustrated and upset that you spilled waterfalls of salty tears onto his jacket, mumbling words of pain and heartbreak that stayed within the walls of the secret garden.

It stayed safe there, as Seonghwa no longer visited.

Not even you had visited less, despite being consumed with your children and the work of the kingdom. The tree was a sign of your love for each other, it was your very first child.

Hongjoong, too, had stayed. Continued to care for it, to keep it company on his breaks, to talk about his problems since he certainly could not tell you or Seonghwa. His own tears often landed on the roots of the tree, nurturing it with his pain.

Perhaps that’s why the tree had not bore any mulberries, from the saltiness of the water or the anguish it carried.

But he kept whispering the same thing to you whenever you asked, that the mulberries would definitely come, and they would be tastiest you would ever have. Better than those from the markets.

Five more years had passed and you grew ill. Hid it well, so well that no one except the royal physician knew of your condition. Not even Hongjoong knew, so you took that as an achievement. Rarely anything got by him, especially when it came to you.

Dr Yeosang had looked at you with dreary eyes, putting his equipment away which had signalled the end of your appointment. “Anything?” you inquired, coughing into a blood-stained napkin.

“I’m afraid there is still no diagnosis. None of the symptoms match up to any known illnesses and it appears that it is not spread by people since everyone else in the palace is as fit as a fiddle.”

Your smile was small as you chuckled. “Everyone except me, it seems,” you joked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Yeosang simply sighed. “I believe it’s time. Tell your family before it gets even worse--which it has been doing since the first appointment. At least Hongjoong.”

“You know very well I can’t do that. We’re in the middle of a drought and there’s raids going on in the North--”

“Every kingdom faces those, and yours has already dealt with such situations in the past very well.”

You looked away, cheeks now starting to sink in from the lack of appetite. “I know,” you whispered, ”but I can’t bring myself to say it.”

He licked his lips in contemplation, understanding why you wouldn’t want to tell anyone. A monarch is as strong as the kingdom--any instability in the family will cause instability for the nation. And the same goes for a parent and their family.

“I suppose I can try to hide it a little longer... but a month is all I can do--from the rate your illness is progressing.”

Lips tightening in a thin line, you nodded. There was never going to be enough time. Would go greedy, wishing for a month, then another, then another. But your timer was non-negotiable.

So the first thing you did when you left the royal physicians was go see your sons. If there were anyone who needed your attention, they would be your boys.

Short on breath, you tried to travel swiftly through the hallways--bones, now weary with age and sickness, no longer moving the same way as you used to. As you made your way to the royal family’s private wing, you overheard wisps of conversation through a nearby door.

Slowing to a halt, you listened closer, recognising the voices but not seeming to put names to them--brain too muddled to think straight.

“--know.”

“You can’t do that, Seonghwa. Not to her.”

“I can’t force myself to stop caring about you, Hongjoong!”

Your heart stopped mid-beat.

“Keep your voice down!” There was a pause while the floorboards of Seonghwa’s private office creaked, most likely Hongjoong’s habit of pacing while he was thinking. “You need to. I care about you as a friend, but nothing more.”

“You think if I could, I would’ve done so already?” your husband’s voice was seething. “Heavens know how hard I have tried to love her, b-but I just can’t!”

“Well I can’t love you back, if that’s what you’re asking for.”

Another stretch of silence passed, and you could almost imagine the two glaring at each other as they normally did in a fight. “Because you love her. Am I correct?”

A soft sigh came from who you assumed was Hongjoong, quiet but still loud enough for your ears to capture (greatly timed to cover your own gasp at the revelation).

“I don’t know...”

“What do you mean by that?”

“...Nothing.”

“Hongjoong, you know you can tell me anything. Regardless of our positions before or after this conversation, we will always be friends.”

“This is better kept between me and the Heavens.” He sighed once more. “All you need to know is that we can’t be together because I don’t love you and I have my loyalty. End of discussion.”

Had it been anyone else, Seonghwa would’ve had them arrested for speaking that way to their king. But neither of you could ever so that to him. He was your rock, your old friend--his loyalty shining bright even after all these years of serving you.

Before Hongjoong could open the door, you had fled the scene, not wanted to be caught eavesdropping on such a private conversation--even if the topic had concerned you.

Just before entering the Princes’ linked chambers, you caught your breath, willing your pounding heart to stop beating so feverishly.

There was too much going on. Too much, and your brain can’t seem to wrap itself around it all.

“So that’s why,” you whispered, lacking breath in your lungs. “His heart belongs to another...” Then a fit of coughs burst once more and your hands scrambled to retrieve a fresh napkin tucked beneath your sleeve to catch the blood.

Upon hindsight, it was a bad idea to stop in front of your son’s private room, because your extreme coughing had caught his attention. Yunho’s confused eyes melted away to concern, especially after seeing the dark red liquid tainting the pure white cloth.

“Mother!”

His cry had attracted the attention of your other two sons, who swarmed around you as Yunho cradled his arms around you, guiding you to his bed.

San brushed the strands of hair that had escaped from your tight bun away from your face while Wooyoung rubbed your back in attempt to sooth your violent coughing. “What’s wrong, Mum?”

“We need to tell Papa!”

“We need Dr Yeosang--”

“He knows,” you tried to say, doing your breath to bring your breathing back to normal. “The doctor. He’s known... for a long time.”

“What do you mean ‘a long time’?” San asked, his hands clasped around yours, a desperate look in his eyes begging for an explanation. “What’s going on, Mama?”

Not right now. You were supposed to have a month extra. They weren’t supposed to find out so soon. “I...” you throat felt tight and dry, “I’m very unwell. The doctor doesn’t know what’s wrong because he’s never seen anything like it before.”

“Then we get a new doctor!” Yunho piped in, voice raised and slightly frantic. You really didn’t need them panicking.

“If Yeosang doesn’t know, then no one will.”

“What about Dad?” Wooyoung asked. “Does he know? Uncle Hongjoong has to know, right? Uncle Hongjoong always kn--”

“Neither of them know. We must keep it that way. So you need to pretend that I’m healthy and well for just one more month. That’s all I ask for. One month.”

You looked between all your children, trying to memorise their faces because Heavens know how long you have left.

As promised, the boys kept your secret for as long as they could--caring and tending to you as much as they could without arousing suspicion from Hongjoong or Seonghwa.

But before your month was up, you had collapsed just after a dinner--slipping in and out of consciousness while your old friend carried you up to Yeosang’s office, the rest of your family in tow, beyond worried.

Yeosang later explained, when you were fully awake, that whatever illness you had was growing at a much faster rate than he anticipated, and you had a few weeks at most.

Now, you were bedridden in your chambers, limbs too heavy and painful to move, lungs feeling like they were being pressed down from the gravity and it got harder and harder to keep your eyes open.

Not a day went by where your sons or husband visited you, and Hongjoong had rarely ever left your side. As strong as they all tried to be, their puffy crimson eyes and sniffling noses were all too obvious.

“Seonghwa? Hongjoong?” you said, voice faint and dry. “Could you go out... for a few minutes. I need to... talk to the boys.”

They exchanged glances, before following your quiet word. “What is it, Mama?” San said, crouched beside you as he held your hand once again.

Even as a man in his mid-twenties, your little baby still called you ‘Mama’ and refused to let go of his mother’s hand. Found you as the most comforting thing in the world.

“Remember... the mulberry tree? The one I showed you?”

“Yeah, Ma,” Wooyoung said leaning against the wall that faced you. Despite his playful and nonchalant nature, you knew he was the most emotional one out of the three. Which was why you were very concerned over his silence for the past few days until he finally spoke now.

“I want you three... to look after it once I’m gone.”

“You’re not going, Mother,” Yunho sniffled, tears in his eyes threatening to drop. He was the oldest (by a few minutes) and was still the most respectful. But even then, he was still a kind and soft-hearted boy, much like his brothers.

“But promise me... regardless. That you’ll look after her. And when she finally bares fruit...”

“It’ll be the tastiest fruit,” your sons recited in unison, eyes glossy with unshed tears, “better than any other on the markets.”

With the little strength you had left, you mustered a weak smile. “My good boys... You will become... fine kings one day. I have no doubt.” You let go of San’s hand, hand instantly being consumed by the cold from the lack of insulation and warm blood pumping through your veins. “Now... call in your Father and Uncle.”

And they did so, leaving the room to leave the three of you alone. “What is it, my dear?” Seonghwa caressed your cheek lovingly, but you both knew that it was more of a platonic gesture than a romantic one--more for you than it was for him.

“I know...about your love for Hongjoong.”

You could feel the tension in the air thicken to such a degree that you could slice it with the letter opener that resided on your bedside table. It was Hongjoong who spoke up. “Y/N, you need to know that we never--”

“Did anything... I know.” You look to him, that same weak smile plastering on your face. “Such a loyal friend. Never did deserve you, did I?”

He shook his head as he came down to hold your hand. “No--don’t say that. If anything, I didn’t deserve you as a friend.”

You chuckled softly, careful not to trigger another one of your coughing fits. “If I can’t say things like that... then neither can you. But I would like you both to do two final things for me.”

“Anything,” his voice was still strong, unwavering, but you knew Hongjoong long enough to see the stormy ocean behind his calm gaze, the turmoil he must be feeling right now from losing his closest and oldest friend.

“First thing is.. be happy,” you shifted your gaze over to your husband, “and you too. If you can’t with me... then at least with each other.”

For the first time, your servant let go of your hands, denying your request. “I can’t be happy without you.”

“Then learn to do so. After all, you have... the rest of your life.”

He couldn’t verbally agree to that, not when what he said was true. Not when his own heart lay in your possession--and would to until the day he passed as well. So Seonghwa took the painful step in asking what your second wish was.

You recalled the Zepheth’s symbol of your most beloved possession. Star-crossed lovers and the final union of death. Though the three of you were stuck in a sick triangle of unrequited love by the Heavens, it felt fitting for your story.

And perhaps, with your permanent presence, the fruit would finally grow.

“Bury me under the mulberry tree.”

Extra, alternative ending below If you’re not a fan of fantasy or torturous spirits or man-eating trees, just stop here.

Two young travellers searched around the ruins of a lost palace, greenery overflowing, filling every nook and cranny of the battered stone walls--a rather beautiful sight of Mother Nature reclaiming her lands.

“Where even are we, Mingi?” the shorter, more muscular one of the pair said, stumbling over vines and rubble as he followed the much taller man.

“Not where we’re meant to be, I think,” he quipped, looking at the architecture to find some clues of their whereabouts.

The other rolled his eyes. “This would’ve been a lot easier if you didn’t drop the map in the river.”

“Hey! In my defence, it was really windy and the rain made the ground slippery. Leave me alone, Jongho.”

“Not until you give me a damn map.”

Like the archaeology student he was, Mingi studied the tattered tapestry and engravings on the walls until it had hit him. “Holy mother of fresh, sweet hell.”

“What?”

Without answering his best friend’s question, the man too off running, as if he already knew the layout of the place. Jongho ran after him, screaming and almost tripping over the vegetation in the way of his heavy boots.

Once Mingi stopped, his friend held his knees, heaving to catch his breath. “What... the hell... was that for?”

Swivelling on his heel, the tall explorer had sparkles in his eyes. “This is it! The Lost Kingdom! The thing we’ve been looking for!”

Jongho’s head snapped up. “You mean you’ve been looking for? I was just dragged along by your antics as usual.” He narrowed his eyes when he finally saw where his friend took him. “A tree? You took me to see a goddamn TREE?!”

Mingi got closer the enormous mulberry tree, gazing at it as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. “Not just any tree. It’s the Queen Y/N’s tree!”

“Okay, let me get this straight,” Jongho sighed, feeling the rage burn within him like a furnace, “you took me to see a dead woman’s tree?”

“Yes, but--”

“WE ALMOST DIED, MINGI! TWICE!” He held up two fingers, expressing his point further. “AND ALL THAT FOR A GODDMAN TREE?!”

“The lore surrounding it was well worth the trip,” a voice said, the two boys’ head spinning to see a person dressed in old, fancy clothing, perched upon the swing--now completely covered with vines and moss. Both of them swore they hadn’t noticed them there. Yet, they brushed it off anyways, thinking that they just had silent movement.

“Who are you?” Mingi asked, head cocked to the side as he became familiar with the sight of them.

“The protector of this tree,” they replied. “Who are you?”

“Some travellers...sightseeing,” Jongho piped in, sceptical of this person who looked like they were in their twenties, just like them.

“You were talking about lore?” The older of the two inquired, already greatly invested in the whole place. “Are you familiar with it?”

“Why, I must be. After all, I look after her,” they said, lovingly stroking the trunk of the tree. “Would you like to hear it?”

“Yes, please!” Mingi sat down, like a child excited for story time despite knowing the book by-heart, while Jongho stayed stood up beside him.

“Well, once upon a time, there was a very strong and powerful Kingdom--”

“The Lost Kingdom!” the child-like man shot out, too giddy to hold back.

The person giggled, his antics reminding them of someone they used to know. “Yes, I believe that’s what you call it. Well, there were three children that lived here; one was of royalty, one of nobility, and the third was a servant--but they were the best of friends, despite their status.”

The muscular boy narrowed his eyes at the childish tone the person was using, not liking how it sounded--how it started to make him feel weary.

“They planted this tree,” they tapped the trunk with their hand, “right here, and nurtured it for as long as they could. As they grew older, the royal and nobleman got married and had children together, while the servant dedicated his life to helping them.”

Jongho sat down, feeling more dreary than normal, coughing a little, while Mingi did the same, not feeling so well either.

“They were all still close, regardless of personal disputes between them, but their love for each other began to weaken only once the tree remained barren of fruit. But they kept up hope, saying that it will the next year.”

The travellers had found it hard to breath, as if there was a pressure on their lungs, squeezing them flat.

“But then, the royal found out they were dying, so they asked to buried under the mulberry tree. In their mind, their body would give the tree the nutrients it needed to finally bare the mulberries they so desperately craved. But no fruit had bore, making the spirit of the royal restless.”

Jongho coughed violently, thick red liquid dribbling down his chin, looking over to Mingi who was hunched over in pain. "But... that’s a fruitless... mulberry tree.”

It appeared to be the wrong thing to say, as their brows furrowed, scowl pulling at their lips, the swing stopped swinging. “And who are you to say that?”

“Because I study... goddamn plants.”

Then it clicked in Mingi’s head--what was going on. “Jongho... shut up--” His chest squeezed harder, a yelp escaping his lips as he toppled to the side.

“Carrying on from that rude interruption,” the person glared at the younger of the two, who was now lying on his side, curled into the foetal position, “the nobleman and servant then died a while after, and were buried side-by-side with the royal.”

Overgrown roots of the tree began to soften, becoming more flexible like snakes as they began to slither their way to the two young boys.

“But even their bodies weren’t enough. So the royal’s spirit swore to use whatever they could to make the tree finally bare fruit.”

The roots wrapped around each boys ankle, spiralling up until it wrapped the two of them in a cocoon. And neither of them could do anything, too tired to yell or move around, succumbing to the sweet release of sleep.

Getting up off the swing, the person rested their forehead on the trunk of the tree.

“And it will be the tastiest fruit. Better than any other on the markets.”

A/N: If you didn’t get it, the tree not growing any fruit was a metaphor of unrequited love. I feel like I didn’t really explain that properly, but there you go.

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crusherthedoctor · 5 years ago

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The Lutrudis Hadeer Design Concept Masterpost

Every now and then, I get the occasional question about my very own Lutrudis, which I'm always gladly willing to answer. Yet for all the times I've answered such questions, it seems some folks are still a bit left in the dark as to how Trudy came to be. So I figured I could make one big post all about the creation process. Maybe not every single detail per say, but at least everything that I think is worth mentioning in a post of this sort.

I'm aware that fellow pal @benignmilitancy covered this subject herself recently, but I might as well do my part to back up what she said.

1. When did Lutrudis become an idea?

The basic idea for Lutrudis - and indeed, the setting of Viridonia and Beyond the Stars itself as a story - was thought up as early as 2014. When I say basic idea however, I really do mean it, as aside from the general concept of her being the latest Friend of the Week helping Sonic and Co fight evil on her home island, very little else about Trudy was set up, including her name and species. While some aspects of her personality were already set in stone by that point, I focused on the design first when I decided to go ahead and make her and Beyond the Stars a real thing. The idea being to use what personality traits I had in mind to create a mental image, then use that mental image to help figure out the rest of her traits, as a design can often help out with working out a personality.

So basically, I scratched my back, so that I could scratch it again. Made sense to me.

2. Why a horse? Is it because friendship is magic?

Maybe...

Actually, I wanted a species that hadn't been used before, at least in the games, its continuity being the one Beyond the Stars takes place in. But at the same time, I also wanted to go with a fairly mundane species rather than anything rare, extinct, or extravagant, as I felt that the latter would undermine the story arc that I had in mind for this particular character. Compared to the likes of Sonic, Shadow, or Blaze, Lutrudis is more akin to Amy in the sense that she's ordinary by comparison, despite her living conditions and the magical brand of ammo she eventually decides to use. To have the arc of a “normal” lady becoming a hero in her own right be represented by a T-rex or a dragon wouldn't really land the same impact in the context of this universe.

Already, I was quickly warming up to making her a horse because of this. But then I realised that many of Trudy's personality traits - her loyalty, her passion, her elegance - were ALSO commonly attributed to horses in real life. And if you're not aware, I'm a big fan of letting Sonic and Co have character tics representative of their species, and a horse in particular had plenty of potential to have some funny and cute moments by letting their horsiness show itself. This additional thought helped make my decision on the matter final.

...Well, that and I wanted Trudy to have longer hair than the average Sonic female due to how, IMO, short hair wouldn't work as well for her. Obviously horses have manes, so that made it easier to get away with than it would have if she were a hedgehog, though it also helps that Trudy's hair is never any more detailed than the rest of her, meaning her hair actually looks like her own rather than her wearing an overly detailed wig to appease a certain disgraced comic writer, one of whom I will probably have the entirety of Beyond the Stars uploaded by the time he actually does something with his echidna libido-fueled comic at this rate... Looking forward to it in 2030.

As for what kind of horse she is, I decided to go with an English Thoroughbred, if only to further justify Trudy's English accent, which is nonetheless fairly mild compared to everyone else in Viridonia, who sound as though they jumped out of a 90's Rareware title.

3. “THIS IS WHO I AM... But who am I?”

Believe it or not, but even by 2016, I still hadn't decided on what to call my little pony. I had already figured that whatever I was going to call her, it would abide by the same naming convention as Amy Rose, Miles Prower, and Ivo Robotnik, to help further add to the aforementioned notion that she's an ordinary lady who wasn't born with any superpowers. That, and because “___ the Horse” doesn't have the same ring to it as “___ the Hedgehog” or “___ the Echidna”.

So what did I do?

I looked up a list of female names for baby girls. Duh.

Well, it worked out, because I stumbled across “Lutrudis”, which was German for “strength of the village”. The more I repeated it in my head, the more it appealed to me. Sometimes, you can have various names that mean the same thing, yet one in particular will just have that perfect sound to it. That was me with this name. This horse being named Lutrudis felt right to me, even if I perfectly understood that it was perhaps a bit more exotic than your usual Sonic anthro name.

Not that it mattered too much, since I was quick to think of “Trudy” as a nickname for her, since in addition to being less of a mouthful, that name - also German in origin - had a similar meaning, “universal strength”. Fit her character and arc just as well.

So that was the first name sorted, but what about the surname? Well, when looking at a selection of appropriate words, I stumbled on “Hadeer”, and while the Arabic meaning of the name is slightly unclear - some sources say ��adventurous”, others say “sound of the water falls” - I felt that the meanings associated with it were all equally appropriate regardless. Then I combined it with the first name, said the full name over and over again in my head, and thought “Yeah... this sounds correct.”

I realise the irony of a part-German, part-Arabic name being associated with an English character, but considering this is the same universe where a man who is presumably not Polish is given a Polish term for a name (Robotnik), I think we can let it slide.

4. “You guys know what EDS is, right?”

It's no secret that another friend of mine, @greenyvertekins, has Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, which has a lot of unfortunate complications to it, but in laymen's terms basically means your body is more fragile than that of the average person's. This condition is rather rare, so much so that a majority of people have never heard of it. Sure enough, I was one of those people, until I became friends with Verte.

After hearing Verte talk about her EDS and what she's had to go through, along with doing my own research on the condition, not only was I considerably more informed on it, but I also felt very sympathetic to not only my friend, but everyone else who has had to experience it, particularly with how ignorant other people continue to react to it due to lack of public awareness. It made me want to do something in dedication, and in the process, a certain pony eventually crossed my mind.

This wasn't done for the sake of appeasing blue checkmarks on Twitter. I genuinely wanted to help raise awareness of EDS however I could, and I considered that perhaps its inclusion in my story would help do that, so long as it didn't sacrifice everything else about the story or forget that it was still a Sonic the Hedgehog story. Yes, it's a fanfic, and thus not as well known as a Hollywood blockbuster or a bestselling novel, but if even a few people were to end up learning about EDS through Lutrudis, I would be happy.

However, I was well aware that the idea of a Sonic character having EDS might be seen as a bit jarring, and if done badly, could potentially be accidentally insulting. So I made sure to consult Verte about it, saying that I would only go through with it if she was comfortable with me doing so, and made it very clear that I would try to make its representation as tasteful and as faithful as I can, despite the inherent nature of the Sonic universe that Trudy is part of.

By the way, horses in real life can fall victim to very similar disorders, so that was yet another reason why I went with that choice.

5. “Hey Benign, I'm shite at art, please help.”

I can't remember the exact conversation that led to it, but after I talked to @benignmilitancy about Lutrudis, she offered to bring the character's design to life through her mad art skillz. Initially I was hesitant to take up the offer, since I felt guilty about having to rely on someone else to show people what my own character looks like, but I was giddily honored by the offer and decided to agree as long as she was willing. Luckily for her, she wasn't working with a blank canvas so to speak, as I had a relatively complete image in my mind regarding what Trudy would look like, having already reasoned to myself why this or that would apply.

When putting my vision into words to Benign, I mentioned that...

- Since Trudy is the same age as Rouge, logically that should mean she's given a similar mature build as the latter, as opposed to the pipe limbs you see with the other female characters. Since Trudy spends a lot of time with Amy and Cream and has a lot of motherly interactions with the latter in particular, it helps signify that she's older than them.

- Being a horse, she would have two slits for nostrils rather than the usual dot nose that most characters have. Similarly, though you don't see them most of the time anyway, her feet are grey hooves, but they abide by the usual Sonic-style feet rather than being more realistic ala Clove's hooves, if only because the latter didn't look right for this character IMO.

- To add to her gentle warmth, her eyes would be a honey shade of brown. Just like how Cream has brown eyes. Again, it's like poetry, they sort of, they rhyme. Every stanza kinda rhymes with the last one. *shrug* Hopefully it'll work.

- Since EDS tends to apply several subtle physical traits to those who have it, at least some of them should logically apply to Trudy as well. Those with EDS often have a bluish-grey tint to their sclera, and they also tend to have paler skin than most, so Trudy would have those qualities too.

- To emphasize her love for Mother Nature and all its amazing sights, and also to contrast with Amy and Cream's colour schemes, Trudy herself would be green, albeit a more gentler green rather than the brighter tones of Vector and Jet, while her clothes would be blue, with slightly different shades depending on the clothing to prevent her from looking like a drab curtain. After a few initial sketches, Benign eventually suggested that some of her clothing could be changed to brown to balance out her overall colour scheme, as well as to further add to the subtle nature motif by having brown (trees) go along with blue (water) and green (grass). Needless to say, I wholeheartedly approved of this idea, and decided that the best placement for the brown sections would be for her leggings and glove cuffs.

- Speaking of, as a nod to her equine status, she would wear leggings that could pass off as Equestrian jodhpurs. (Not that she has an aversion to wearing skirts or dresses, since she's girly and tomboyish in pretty much equal measures, compared to how Sonic females usually lean towards one or the other.)

- People with EDS are unable to wear heels since they can hurt their feet, so heels were out of the equation for this little horsie. But I also figured that regular shoes or sandals wouldn't mesh well with the rest of Trudy's clothing, so I went with boots that were flat at the heels. They can allude to her adventurous streak AND allude to how there's a lady willing to kick ass behind that quiet, mellow, introverted demeanour. Plus, much like how being stomped by a real horse's hoof would be very painful to put it mildly, so too would being stomped by this horse's boot.

- Seeing how Trudy's arms have permanent scars on them - permanent scars being another common effect of EDS - she would wear elbow-length gloves over them, since she wouldn't be comfortable with showing them publicly. Note however that she would still wear long gloves even if she didn't have those scars, since they genuinely happen to appeal to her fashion tastes as well. Covering the scars up is just a bonus. And since long gloves are often associated with royalty and high class, they're also suiting for a lady who lives in a fancy castle (despite not being royalty).

- Her hair is kept in a big bouncy ponytail, not unlike Coco Bandicoot or Shantae, since it's both cute and tomboyish... that and because the visual pun of a horse with a ponytail was too good to resist, let alone it humorously mirroring the general shape of her actual tail.

- To contrast with Sonic's spiky quills, a lot of Trudy's design is emphasized to have a round quality, such as her tail, her ponytail, and her sloped ears. To add to this design philosophy, she would wear a headscarf similar to Wave's. Me and Benign contemplated on whether Trudy's muzzle should be more blocky like that of a real horse, before we agreed that the softer muzzle fit both the round aesthetic and her general character better.

- Trudy has trouble breathing in colder temperatures, and she also has a sensitive nose that reacts strongly to heavy scents. As such, she would have a bandanna that she could cover over her mouth and nose to help out with either of those things whenever the situation called for it, or any other scenario where she deems it appropriate. It helps that a bandanna suits a horse anthro anyway.

Truth be told, I was worried that I was coming off as too demanding. But Benign assured me that giving all these details helped rather than hindered. In any case, I was more than pleased with the final result, as it was precisely spot on to what I had in my head, although even her initial sketches during the work in progress were great stuff.

6. If Amy uses a hammer, then Lutrudis uses...

Trudy has surprising arm and leg strength despite her appearance, which is mainly due to her horsie genes. But since she's still got EDS, it's still wise for her to equip herself with a weapon or two to even the odds. I contemplated a few ideas in this case, including a quarterstaff, but ultimately I decided that the following would be a little more interesting, while still remaining appropriate for the character in question.

I thought to myself “What's stopping her from having two weapons, one for short-range, the other for long-range?” I decided on the long-range weapon first: bow and arrows, the latter of which would eventually include the Ethereal Zone-powered crystals inside the cavern below her castle. Goes without saying that a bow suits her elegance and how it can be used from a stealthy distance, and the use of the crystals and their different abilities also helps to keep the reader guessing on what exactly is the nature of the elusive Ethereal Zone itself. I also reasoned that Trudy using a bow was a nice contrast to Amy's hammer, although I'm aware that Amy herself used a bow in the Fleetway comics. But no one uses a bow in the games (yet), so it's fine, right?

As for her short-range weapon, I thought it'd be funny if she had a whip that resembled a riding crop. Not only would it be used to give Eggman's robots the Simon Belmont treatment, it could also extend up to a certain distance to help grapple onto things and allow her to overcome areas that would otherwise cause complications for her body. Is it a bit ludicrous? Maybe, but so is a blue hedgehog fighting a Roosevelt lookalike. You just kind of have to live with it.

So there you have it! Everything you need to know about how Lutrudis Hadeer's name, species, design, and EDS came to be finalised. Now when you turn her into a monkey without my knowledge or permission for the sake of dunking on her because you don't approve of me making fun of Kingdom Hearts rejects, at least you'll have a better idea on what you're actually talking about. :^)

#Lutrudis Hadeer #Sonic Character Design

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argylemnwrites · 5 years ago

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Not Exactly Sure, But Maybe Sure Enough

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Romance (Post The Royal Heir, Chapter 4)

Word Count: ~1900

Rating: PG-13 (adult language)

Summary: Riley Liu has never been much of a planner. But with the whole world seeming to be making plans for her uterus, she has to reevaluate the way she approaches challenges in her life.

Author’s Note: Written for Day 16 of the Choices July Challenge (prompt - Uncertainty). Can be seen as a companion piece to my Day 2 submission, “Living with the Consequences” (link is in my masterlist as I think that Tumblr still sometimes hates my posts with links embedded in them). Trigger warning for mention of pregnancy loss.

Wanted to take a look at the whole “Would Drake and a Drake-romancing MC really just agree to name their kid heir to the throne?” shenanigans from the perspective of my MC. After all, I probably should write more from her perspective since she is the one who would have to go through all the public scrutiny and judgement. I originally envisioned a much different piece than this, but what can I say? This just took on a life of its own!

To say that Riley Liu hadn’t always thought things through fully was a bit of an understatement. After all, you don’t get on a plane with a guy you’d known for less than 24 hours to go compete in some strange political version of The Bachelor in a foreign country without being pretty impulsive. In all honesty, so much of her life could be seen as a series of decisions she put almost no thought into, bouncing into situation after situation because it sounded fun or awesome or sometimes, just better than her current circumstances. She’d jumped from job to job, casual relationship to casual relationship, friend group to friend group endlessly. Never any roots. Never anything permanent. Until one day, she found herself with actual, real friends, not just buddies you grab a drink with once or twice a month.

There was Maxwell, who gave her a family. Hana, who showed her what trust and honesty looked like in friendship. Liam, who welcomed her with such care, even when she made it clear she didn’t feel the same way about him that he did about her. They all took her in, this flighty, detached waitress and gave her a home, both figuratively and literally. A home she shared with her husband, a concept that still in some ways felt more foreign than the fact that nearly every hero she had for the past year used apple butter instead of mayo.

Finding Drake had been something she had never dared to hope for. Here was a man who seemed to understand her soul, the fears she had that she would always be alone in the end, that she was never good enough just as she was to be a priority to anyone. Sometimes listening to Drake talk about his life felt like looking at her own experiences through a fun-house mirror. Sure, the details were different; opulent parties and snobby nobles were worlds apart from a junkie mother and a variety of foster homes. But for all that distortion, at their core, their damage was the same. And maybe that’s why things always felt so natural between them, even when she was naïve enough to think that she could have a little fling with the cute prince, catch a flight back to NYC, and have a mad story for two truths and a lie going forward, leaving Cordonia behind without a glance back.

The love she felt for her friends, her husband, her new home she would have never experienced if she had stuck to her old habits and peaced out when things got tough, less lighthearted and silly and more filled with media scandals and political drama. She knew there was a lesson to be learned there, and while she would never be one to put together a five-year plan like she knew Hana was doing, she knew Riley Walker needed to be a bit different than Riley Liu. Or at least, she needed to work on being different. For her own sake, for her loved ones’ sake, and for the sake of the citizens she now answered to. While she might have leapt into the role of duchess without much thought, she recognized that being a political figure meant that she probably shouldn’t just roll along, indulging in every whim, every adventure, every idea presented to her, without at least thinking through the consequences somewhat.

So, she was trying this new thing, taking a few minutes to run through some good and bad possibilities for any decision before she jumped in with gusto, at least when it came to the major things in her life. She wasn’t going to let being married turn her into someone boring who was always stuck in a rut, but she could aim for a little stability. Spontaneous, not impulsive - that was her new goal.

And at first it was easy, settling in at Valtoria in those first few weeks, then heading to the private island for her and Drake’s honeymoon. Telling Drake that she was ready to start a family with him, and sooner rather than later, seemed like a calm, rational follow up to their discussion of their future back during the lantern festival. If felt like something responsible adults, responsible parents did. But suddenly it seemed like that was all they talked about, really all anyone talked about around them. And Riley didn’t know how to feel about that. What was the appropriate response to Madeleine telling her that she and Drake better be having a lot of sex, other than the petulant desire to offer to fuck her husband right now if Madeleine would just leave the room? How do you respond to congratulations for a thing that hasn’t happened yet? And what the hell made her typically grumpy, jaded husband respond to Liam’s request like a seasoned diplomat?

Sure, they had a few conversations about his reasons. And she got it, kind of. But did he really not have any doubts about the whole thing? Could he not see that this increased media attention was just the beginning, that their lives were not just their lives anymore? Everyone was going to want a piece of them.

And then of course, her miscarriage happened, leaving them both shell-shocked. Super common, according to Dr. Ramirez, and no reason not to try again. But Riley didn’t know if they should try again, at least not right away. Maybe this was a sign to slow down, to not force this whole parenthood thing at such a rushed speed. But to go back on birth control felt like they were failures, letting down Liam, their friends, and all of Cordonia. Everyone seemed to need their baby so damn much, Riley couldn’t bring herself to take a few months, maybe even a year, to process her loss and heal. She could sense a similar longing in Drake, to move on together, not as public figures but just as Drake and Riley. But after agreeing to name their child heir to the throne, the sacrifice of the timing of trying for another pregnancy seemed inconsequential. What was a few months compared to years of diplomacy classes, public scrutiny, and increased security threats? So they kept trying. And a few months later, they succeeded again. But they were wiser now. No one was going to know except them and Dr. Ramirez. Riley refused to take a pregnancy test at home for that reason. She thought she could trust her staff, but then again she had trusted Gladys, and look how that turned out.

But now she was into the second trimester, out of the most dangerous window, and in certain outfits, she was starting to show. She’d had to avoid some of her favorite shirts and dresses, and Hana had made a few comments that implied that she’d figured it out for weeks now. So she and Drake invited Liam, Maxwell, Hana, Olivia, Bertrand, and Savannah over for dinner. It was exciting to share their happy news, even if they didn’t get to announce it so much as Olivia called out the ridiculousness of their charade when Riley had to excuse herself due to nausea within 30 minutes of everyone’s arrival. On the other hand, it felt a little sad, to lose that shared secret between her and her husband.

Because now this was the nation’s pregnancy, and never had that been more clear than tonight, as a stylist zipped Riley into a long gown that was as tight as clothing she’d worn before her pregnancy, clearly meant to highlight her bump that was still pretty damn small. Meanwhile, a makeup artist and a hairstylist, both also Madeleine’s “gift” for the night, primped and prodded. Kate Middleton didn’t let her hyperemesis stop her from looking polished, Madeleine had snipped when Riley balked at the whole styling crew, and her children were much farther away from the crown.

“The mother of the next monarch needs to look like a queen, not some sickly, sloppy piece of work with bags under her eyes.”

Riley had a lot of thoughts about that she would have expressed if she was so damn exhausted, so she settled instead for a middle finger thrust in Madeleine’s direction. Oh well, a little impulsivity was probably excusable under these circumstances.

It all felt so surreal, attending this ball thrown in honor of her son or daughter who was still just a possibility at this point. A lot still could go wrong here, not the least of which was her puking on some diplomat’s shoes in the next hour. As she sat waiting for Madeleine to come and get her, letting her know that they were ready for her entrance as the womb that carried the guest of honor, she felt like she was walking through a fog. Riley Liu would have said, “Screw this shit,” and run away, hopping on a flight or catching a bus. Getting the hell out of this world full of pressure and expectations and demands. But Riley Walker couldn’t do that. She had obligations, and she had to see them through.

She heard the door opening, but didn’t turn to face Madeleine, wanting a few more moments with just her child, no matter how fleeting they would be.

“Hey, so I got a plan to get us out of there in 90 minutes. Two hours, tops.”

She let out a sigh of relief before she even fully processed her husband’s words. He was always finding ways to give them a little more time to be just… them. Not a duke and duchess, and now not the future king or queen’s parents. Just Drake, Riley, and now their little one.

“How’d you manage that?” she asked, turning towards him as he crossed the room and crouched down in front of her chair. She noticed he hadn’t escaped Madeleine’s grooming plans, wearing a brand new black suit with his hair parted awkwardly to one side.

“Easy. I got Maxwell to agree to give a toast that will last a minimum of 15 minutes as an ode to the best childhood moments of all of Cordonia’s kings and queens. I figure we slip out to get you some air, and we just never come back. Hana’s promised to deflect any questions about our location after we make our escape.”

She reached down, giving him a gentle smile as she ran a hand through his hair, getting rid of that awful part. Now he looked and sounded like her husband.

All too quickly, their moment of privacy was shattered as Madeleine bustled in, taking one look at Drake’s hair and rolling her eyes.

“And just what do you think you two are doing? You’re supposed to make your entrance in less than a minute!”

“Just taking a moment in between,” Riley said as Drake stood up, squeezing her hand as he pulled her to her feet.

“Well, moment’s over. Let’s get going.”

It wasn’t how she would have chosen to go about this whole pregnancy thing, but for better or worse, this was how it was happening. As Drake held tight to her hand as they walked down the hallway, she was glad for was many doubts and uncertainties as she had about this entire heir-to-the-throne situation, at least they were fumbling through this together. They might have both been out of their element, but they had each other, and maybe, just maybe, that would be enough to get them through all of it.

Tags: @dcbbw @jovialyouthmusic @iplaydrake @gibbles82 @drakewalkerisreal @riley–walker @thequeenofcronuts @notoriouscs @butindeed @choicesjulychallenge @kinda-iconic @mfackenthal

#drake walker #drake x mc #trr #trh #the royal romance #the royal heir #trr fanfic #trh fanfic #choices trr #choices trh #choices #choices stories you play #playchoices #choices fanfiction #choices july challenge #tw: miscarriage #tw: pregnancy loss

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ofseymour · 5 years ago

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𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖑𝖑𝖊𝖓𝖌𝖊 * / 𝖎𝖘𝖔𝖑𝖉𝖊

001. describe your characters’ relationship with their mother or father, or both. minimum word count: 150.

tba.

002. what are your characters’ most prominent physical features? what is a feature that they are most insecure about? what are they proudest of?

it’s been long since isolde has regarded her body as something to revel ( or agonize over ). she likes the ambiguity of her features, how it tricks the general molding of the english, and ventures into marginal territories, burgundian, southern, traitorous. not insecure per se, since she inhabits all aspects of womanhood with ease, all but one: childbearing. she struggles against fertility, rather than towards it: the idea of giving birth has discomfited and unnerved her ever since she was young. it only increases tenfold with age, and so the duchess longs for the time when such worries will be rendered moot by nature’s course.

003. how vain is your character? do they find themselves attractive? what is their worst flaw, and are they aware of it?

she might have grown to be vain if she did not have isabel as a childhood companion. the other woman’s beauty was so stark, so undeniable, and it embodied so many characteristics of desire as well as distant grace, that isolde found herself to be a lukewarm contrast. it was not a comparison that bothered her in the least: isabel’s beauty was a thing to be mirrored at times, but not held over your entire life. it was, like all heavenly boon, a burden. to carry that beauty would’ve required a strength and a determination she did not possess.

004. what is your character’s ranking on the kinsey scale?

a three before her marriage with charles, as emotional bonds were always more readily established with women. she was very fond of all her fellow ladies in waiting when she belonged to the retinue of the old queen, and now she is even more invested in the lives of the younger women she must govern. after her union, it veers towards a two; the idea of becoming involved with someone who would serve no purpose to either isabel or to their duchy seems rather absurd.

005. describe your character’s happiest memory. minimum word count: 150.

tbd. ( i sense a pattern )

006. is there one event in your characters’ life that they would like to erase from their past? why? minimum word count: 200.

tbd.

007. let’s talk favourites! what is their favourite colour, food, and season? what, in a modern setting, would be your character’s favourite song?

she is very fond of cream-white, the nuance you would see, for example, on lacework embroidery and church veils, as opposed to the glacial white of gauze and diamond.

as anyone who spent their childhood winters at court, she is fond of all tastes that forged an unwitting association with the feast days: sweetmeats, sugared almonds, poached fruit.

anything by soccer mommy but with a tad less nostalgia.

008. can you define a turning point in your character’s life?

the first time she understood that it wasn’t only the king’s heart isabel wanted, but also the certainty such a love could secure. the risks she evaluated (and of which she’d been warned by members of their circle) and still deciding to help nonetheless. the acknowledgement that nothing can compare with proximity to a world on the bring of change, except perhaps the sworn devotion to what has still stayed the same.

009. is your character an early morning bird or a night owl? at what time do they get most of their work done?

devotedly a morning bird. even when she had to stay awake through the late, informal parties tat took place in the private quarters of richmond palace, observing and tailing the ends of conversations like licks of flame, she was still adamant on getting up as early as possible.

010 a. what other character, a npc or someone apart of the rp, is your character completely real with? who knows them best, has seen them at their most vulnerable, knows their innermost and basest fears? (b. if your character does not have this person, why? do they long for one?)

charles in recent years, but overall isabel. while her own brother kept to the sidelines and permitted isolde to associate with whoever she pleased, it was out of a lack of true understanding rather than a surplus of it. the older seymour never really did comprehend her; not that it would’ve been possible, when isabel had already taken that role for herself.

011. is your character a neat or messy person?

organized from the standpoint of mental information and daily responsibilities, and certainly preaching tidiness to the ladies she has under her wing, but sometimes erratic with trivial belongings (sheaves of materials, ribbons, letter kits).

012. does your character have any irrational fears or phobias?

nothing other than the common ladylike train of vermin, seasonal diseases creeping into the palace, statute ruin. unless you count childbirth as an irrational fear, in which case, yes.

013. does your character have an underlying passion or trait that influences all aspects of their life?

her need to preserve the status and privileges of those around her. they are inextricably linked with her own: there is no place where charles ends and she begins, no choices isabel makes that does not tug at her own strings. it is not sacrifice, it is not martyrdom. it the mutual egotism that sustains their love, separate and colluded, carnal and platonic.

014. what might your character’s ideal romantic person be?

certainly not charles lmao but she has stopped thinking about that ideal for so long that she no longer has any reliable memories. it might have been anyone: the isolde that concocted it, that breathed lifelikeness into its specter with her own desire, no longer exists. not because of some loss, of an identity shaken by something so great that it has no choice but to shift, but due to the normal workings of the world. the choices she made for herself (was allowed to make for herself) as a woman changed the wishes she’s safeguarded as a girl.

015. describe your character’s hands. are they small, long, calloused, smooth, stubby, dexterous or clumsy? do they wear any jewelry and would they wear polish in a modern setting?

in a modern setting they would wear clear nail polish with a top coat. the sort that almost escapes their glance and certainly the sort that’s easily maintained. as it is, her nails are cut short and kept clean, and her hands are small, powdered, entirely within the confines of the ordinary. they work mediocre well with tasks such as embroidery and are far more suited for cerebral purposes like signatures and different calligraphy styles.

016. how does your character smell? what is their favourite scent?

she is fond of heady, earthly smells, like wood and incense; fragrances that are strong but flowing, associated with the things around them rather than drawing attention for themselves.

017. how would your muse describe their religious beliefs?

pragmatic with a twist (some would call that consciousness, others weakness. she loves people from both those sides.)

018. what rules does your muse live by, if any?

see 013. and like half my bio lol (unbelievable i cbf to reiterate even for my own sake)

019. does your muse overshare, or are they more private?

she can easily give the impression of oversharing when she congresses with the ladies of the queen’s household. however, it rarely happens on its own, or with people from which she expects no reciprocating information. she made that mistake several times in the past with her own brother, and as endearing as the duke of somerset was, he was not one of them.

020. is your muse a gossiper? are they more likely to argue with their fists or tongue? what does their voice sound like?

gossiper druid class, rolls 20 on tongue attack.

021. is your muse a … pessimist or optimist … lover or fighter … believer in happy endings … believer in love at first sight?

she believes in people designing the type of love that’s easiest for them to bear. those who need the comfort of destiny, divinity, external pillars to lay their heads against, rely on love at first sight. some rely on the sanctity of marriage - undeceivable, unyielding. other find comfort in opposite corners: in the absence of love, the impermanence of happiness, the war waged against all things everlasting. she no longer concerns herself with which is true. perhaps she never had: charles and isabel have long settled such dilemmas for her.

022. what sense of humour does your character have?

optimal according to situation. she is not a great wit (think og anne boleyn) but nor is she ignorant to the subtrends and styles in courtly conversation. she is usually most comfortable when throwing back-and-forth remarks with charles or witnessing his sparring matches with isabel, and more often than not she finds things to contribute herself. but she would never try to replicate that sense of humor and intellectual acumen with most members of court.

023. what bad habits does your character have?

complacency, egotism, lack of desire to change perspective, often false certainty, duplicity, drawing out private information, outright lying, us against them mentality.

024. how does your character feel about growing old?

see 002. though she is plagued by conventional concerns such as her husband’s interest in her over the years (at no point in her life did isolde think her unorthodoxy exempts her from the woes of regular women) she finds the scales to be rather in her favor. the idea that she will not risk pregnancy, or an untimely death, is far more appealing than the risk of charles taking up five times more mistresses than decency allows. if she finds she has lost more than she has gained with old age, she will cross that bridge when it shows. she just usually doubts it will.

025. does your character prefer adventure to safety and security?

she married a man that wants to restructure at least 4 governing systems in europe and is mortally devoted to a woman that’s literally just been poisoned..... choose for yourself

#Ⅰ.「 ɢᴀʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜʀᴏᴀᴛ 」 ⇢ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ .#crhs.challenge

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amwritingmeta · 8 years ago

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The Destiel of It All: Part I

Briefly before We Begin

Hello. I’m new. I’ve not been in this fandom for very long, but I’ve loved Supernatural for longer. I’ve now read some meta and have found it so uplifting and enjoyable to read through thoughts that reflect my own so perfectly that I felt inspired to begin putting my own impressions into actual words and sharing them with you all. Being in this fandom is like stepping out of the cold and into a warm, lovely, welcoming room of kindred spirits - all kinds of wonderful - so I do apologise for the repetition I’m undoubtedly going to bring to the table, but hopefully I may bring some fresh angles as well.

Part I of, well, I honestly have no idea.

That said - let’s start.

Romance or Bromance?

The core premise of a romantic coupling, the idea that makes the Love Story so powerful, is two people coming together to open each other’s eyes to what they really need, rather than what they think they want. It should be said that the bromantic coupling is also rooted in this idea: the completion of an emotional puzzle, where the character traits of the one help evolve and, ultimately, unless it’s a tragedy, better the other. However, I will argue my point in the following posts that the relationship between Dean and Castiel is, and always has been, romantic. Not only because of how the showrunners have chosen to write these characters’ dialogue, or because of the blatant use of romantic subtext, evident in how they’ve set up the shots and how the actors act out the scenes and how those scenes are then edited (more on all of that later), but because of how the showrunners have chosen to angle these characters’ joint journey of self-discovery.

Here’s what I mean: in many an example of the romantic narrative, two Opposites will argue and refuse to see eye-to-eye, but unavoidably they will learn from the lessons the other is teaching. This growth is what finally allows them to see past what they’ve always thought they wanted (the conscious external motivation for their journey) to what they really need (the subconscious internal goal of that journey), which is right in front of them: in the case of a romantic narrative this is their other half. Pairing up with their other half and getting what they need, in a well-written story, will usually result in the characters also being able to attain what they truly want, which is typically a variation of the external motivation they’ve been striving towards all along.

For example: In the romantic comedy Leap Year, the protagonist ANNA has one main desire, which is to marry her boyfriend, but she also wants to gain access to a prestigious apartment building in central Boston, which is made easier by the fact that she and her guy Friday are a successful couple, and they’ve both wanted to live in that particular building for a long time: an internal goal (marriage) going hand in hand with an external goal (apartment).

When Anna goes to Ireland to surprise her boyfriend by proposing to him (since he’s seriously dragging his feet), bad weather leaves her stranded and at the mercy of Irishman DECLAN, who runs the small hotel she finds refuge in. Anna and Declan clash immediately, but as Anna needs someone to get her to Dublin, and Declan needs cash to pay off the debts on the hotel, their journeys intertwine. A battle of wills ensues as they go on the road and both clamour for control of the situation, questioning the other’s behaviour, challenging one another and, ultimately, growing to understand each other and lend each other support and encouragement. By the end of their shared journey, their joint external motivation: Dublin or bust, will lead them to call out truths about each other that has them see new truths in themselves, ending in them fulfilling their inner goals: Declan makes peace with his past and Anna let’s go of her expertly planned future. Their reward for learning their lessons and daring to evolve: sharing true love and finding happiness together.

Why am I outlining the plot of this romcom? Because this romantic structure is so applicable to the interlinked character journeys of Dean and Cas - to the point where it’s such an integral part to their narrative - that I cannot imagine it’s not used with every intent and purpose. I would go so far as to say that Dean and Cas being the central love story is very much canon, and have so been since Castiel’s epic entrance into the series, because visual and verbal subtext is every bit as important as the superficially stated - I’d argue it’s more important - to the intricate narrative of this show. When it comes to why the showrunners would need to, rather than outright choose to, keep this love story in subtext is something I’ll (also) discuss further on, so back to the topic at hand: the romance.

Let’s begin with the two most vital ingredients for any narrative, but especially for the romantic one - The Characters.

Dean Winchester

“Saving people, hunting things - the family business.”

So you have this guy who’s outwardly confident, a real guy’s guy and ladies man, a fearless leader, a natural born charmer who’s easy on the eyes, who dresses in a leather jacket, drives a kick-ass set of wheels, listens to classic rock, eats meat - and no frigging veg - like it’s going out of style, has a severe problem with authority, a dorky sense of humour and a heart about the size of Texas: this guy is our Leading Man.

As you get to know him, you realise how much of your first impression of him was actually a very calculated misdirect. You get to see the deepening cracks in his consciously polished veneer, because that outward confidence is all an act, plastered on, not only for the sake of his younger brother, but for his own sake as well, since this guy has perfected the act from a very young age. The weight of responsibility for his brother’s safety that he has been forced to shoulder since childhood, has stumped him from ever taking any real responsibility for himself, so the motor that keeps him running, that gives him purpose and affirms his place in the world, is looking out for his brother’s safety.

This - along with their father’s rigorous training schedule - has turned this guy into a hunter, a killer, who goes after the things that go bump in the night before those things can go after him. He’s gotten so used to being in charge that neither he, nor his brother, question who calls the shots when the going gets really tough, because it’s always been the elder of the two. And the going does get really tough, and this guy, he does make some wrong choices along the way, and there’s regret, but not a whole lot of opening up about it because this guy is tight-lipped and repressed and refuses to acknowledge his emotions as anything more than baggage to be locked away and ignored. Girls talk about their feelings - real men do not.

It’s just that this guy, who sleeps with a new hot chick every other week (or every other night, presumably) and, though clearly one of the Good Ones deep down, treats women as pieces of meat more often than not, has a severely damaged sense of self-esteem. There is a deeply rooted doubt in him, a doubt that says he’s not good for anything but this life he never even chose for himself; and let’s not forget hunting is what this guy does, it doesn’t tell us, really, who he is. This disconnect between being good at what he does, but not so good at being himself, stems from this guy’s father - the most prominent role model in this guy’s life - failing to ever tell him he’s worth something apart from his role as his brother’s guardian.

There’s really no wonder, then, that his younger brother is this guy’s entire world and that family is the epicentre of his universe - not when the truth of it has been drilled into him by a father who gave up a normal life to hunt for his wife’s murderer, dragging his boys into a reality of danger and blood and death in the process, teaching them that this is how you act, this is the sacrifice to be made, for your own blood. There’s no wonder that this guy has shut down any attempt at self-exploration, when every time he’s tried in the past, he’s been yanked back into the circumstances he never chose for himself, but has come to accept as the only reality he’ll ever know. This guy lives by the adage that you do anything for family, and that’s it. That’s all that matters. Without family, there’s only a big, fat nothing. So without his brother he has no sense of self, and as he’s gotten older the probability that there might actually not be anything there but that big, fat nothing has started feeling more and more plausible.

Should he not love his brother? Of course he should, and does. They share a very real and abiding bond that even Death himself has tried, and failed, on numerous occasions, to entirely sever. However, this abiding bond and this lack of self-esteem holds this guy - and ultimately his brother - back from stepping out of their shared comfort zone of familiarity, and into one of actual self-reliability. Does this mean they have to part ways? No - and they never, ever will, but it’s become a vicious cycle: in order to live a full life this guy needs to let go of his need to control his brother in order to keep said brother safe, but this guy’s low self-esteem keeps him afraid that if he let’s go of his brother he won’t like what he’s left with - his sense of self is so badly skewed by his codependency.

What makes this cycle so tragic is that, in this guy, there is a sincere longing for stability, for a hearth and a home. His obsessive compulsive love for his car - putting aside how the precious vehicle was inherited from the boys’ father - ties a direct line to this longing. The Impala is the only constant sense of a home this guy has ever had, the only thing in his life that represents that stability which he deep, deep, deep down yearns for.

The anger he has carried around with him - anger over his mother’s death, over his mother’s choices, over his lost childhood, over his brother leaving and going off to college, over dragging his brother back into hunting (regardless of how ultimately it was the brother’s choice to stay), anger over the need to keep his brother close, the inability to allow his brother that normal life the brother keeps stating he wants because he himself can’t relate to it, no matter how much this guy wants stability, a hearth and a home, because he doesn’t think it’s for him, he can’t see that he deserves it - all of this anger, the final thing he inherited from his father, the foremost emotion in his chest, the one that’s kept him fighting when he could’ve just given up, is the one thing he will have to reconcile with if he’s ever to combine his want (the external motivation for his journey) with his real need (the internal goal of that journey).

This reconciliation would then result in his external motivation to save people by hunting things coexisting with his internal goal - that of finding stability through acknowledging his buried emotions, and in learning how to actually deal with them gaining the reward of living a long, and happy, life. He just needs someone to guide him in the right direction.

Castiel

“We’re making it up as we go.”

So we have this angel, whose first appearance makes him seem like he’s the centre of a lightening storm, something charged and threatening about to strike our Leading Man down, who tells our Leading Man that God has work for him, turning his entire world upside down and inside out and then disappearing as suddenly as he appeared: this angel is our Love Interest.

For our Leading Man, getting to know this angel is a slow process. Getting to trust him is an even slower one. There’s an ever lingering sense of danger surrounding him, on top of which his unpredictability and continuous refusal to adhere to, or even try to adopt, human behaviour makes it difficult to suss out exactly where his loyalties lie. This angel forces our Leading Man into violence because Heaven commands it, this angel turns his back on him for the same reason, resulting in our Leading Man beginning to seriously mistrust Heaven. Then, just like that, this angel actually hears him, properly, and perhaps it’s for the first time, perhaps it isn’t, but this angel breaks ranks and chooses, of all things, to fight by the side of our Leading Man against everything and everyone this angel has ever known. Our Leading Man doesn’t fully comprehend what this means, and how could he? After all, he’s is only human - but he does know some things.

He knows that this angel has been around since the dawn of life on Earth, has captained a garrison of angels and has fought the armies of Hell to save our Leading Man from himself; this angel, who appears in the human vessel of a humble, trench-coated salesman, but whose true form has six feathered wings and is as tall as the Chrysler building and will burn the eyes out of our Leading Man’s skull if he looks directly at it, whose true voice can give our Leading Man a weeklong headache and blow every light for half a mile, who can bend time, travel across the planet in the blink of an eye, who appears and disappears without warning or goodbyes, who understands nothing of human emotion because angels don’t experience them, who invades our Leading Man’s dreams, demands his respect and obedience and trust, who’s commanding in ways previously unknown to our Leading Man because this angel is something he’s always assumed was nothing but a fairy tale of light to put fear in the darkness of the world; this angel, who makes our Leading Man feel, for the first time, that he’s not alone, because this angel keeps turning up, keeps choosing to step in, to intervene, to help. This angel’s faith and power is infectious and it fills our Leading Man with a tentative, but very real, hope that there’s something more, to everything.

Despite all these jaw dropping qualities, our Leading Man begins to see that this angel also has flaws - just like him. Those first impressions, the ones of angels being creatures of complete focus, no hesitation, utter perfection, begin to rip at the seams. Our Leading Man witnesses how the arrogance of fighting under Heaven’s flag can too quickly become hubris, and the very real need to help people can too easily veer into helping them at any cost, even when the risk is that the cost to the innocent will be a great one. In spite of this, our Leading Man can’t help but see beyond these flaws, to the heart behind the choices, to that beating humanity, the one that tethers the angel to Earth like a rope. (Of course, our Leading Man doesn’t see that he’s the one holding the other end of it.)

This angel is a soldier and a warrior who throws himself into danger without a moment’s hesitation, who sacrifices his life for friends and for strangers, who helps rip up the script his Father wrote so long ago and who chooses free will over ever falling in line again, but his disregard for his own life and his own safety, with his own worth tied only to what he can do for others, rather than taking stock of what he wants, who he is and who he could be, is holding him back. His sense of duty is so deeply imbedded in his personality that he’s set adrift without it, so adrift that he actually believes himself to be expendable, and now he’s torn between loyalties: those formed through eons of time to Heaven, and those formed through learning who he could choose to be and what he could have as a human man.

He’ll need to make a choice between them and stick with it if he’s to combine his want (the external motivation for his journey) with his need (the internal goal for his journey). The choice of humanity would result in his external motivation: to help people - coexisting with his internal goal: that of letting go of duty and fully embracing free will in order to gain the reward of living a long, and happy, life. He just needs to learn his lessons first.

So, to Round Off

With our Leading Man and our Love Interest defined we have the foundation for our Love Story. With their character traits, their strengths and flaws, firmly in place, the source for conflict - the root of their much needed growth - is clear. Now all that’s left is setting them on parallel paths, allowing them to challenge each other and learn from one another. Here’s where their joint journey begins.

#destiel #meta #romance #narrative #story structure #supernatural #canon #dean winchester #castiel

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popwasabi · 8 years ago

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“Logan” Review: Fox gets its rocks off to R-Rating

Directed by James Mangold

Starring: Hugh Jackman, Patrick Stewart, Boyd Holbrook, Stephen Merchant and Dafne Keen

Just over a year ago, “Deadpool” changed the comic book landscape in Hollywood by being as obscene, visceral and over-the-top as possible in perfect harmony with its titular character.

It was arguably the most super “hero” accurate comic book film to date and fans loved it.

(Seriously, take a bow Mr. Pool.)

However, studios appeared to latch more on to its R-rating as its source for its victory at the box office rather than why it needed to have one, thus just weeks after the success of “Deadpool” it was announced that James Mangold’s next Wolverine flick, “Logan,” would also be rocking the R-rating.

The whole thing felt reactionary, and though the comic books have always been inherently more violent than their movie counterparts, it was hard not to think about if this was all being done just to get in line with the hip “new” R-rated hotness.

(Remember, this shit is for kids according to Hollywood...)

Well with “Logan” the answer appears to be yes and no. Mangold’s newest Wolverine flick is both excessively violent while also being quite poignant at times and the result is a mixed bag of moody themes and mostly over-the-top violent fan service.

“Logan” takes place in the not too distant future where mutants have suddenly stopped being born. The X-Men are gone, Logan is a depressed alcoholic, Professor Xavier is a senile old man prone to deadly psychic seizures and things are generally speaking just shitty (or maybe it’s just Texas). When Logan runs into a woman looking for his help to protect a child from dangerous men looking for her, he suddenly finds himself in the middle of a great conspiracy to create new mutants as weapons for the government and must now protect this child who shares more in common with him than he realizes.

Before I move on, it’ll be kind of impossible to properly review this film without giving away some plot points so if you rather not be SPOILED now’s the time to turn back and go watch the movie yourself.

(No complaining, you’ve been warned...)

As many friends already know about me, I am an apologist for the Fox X-Men franchise. Other than the obvious blunders (“X-Men 3,” “X-Men Origins: Wolverine,” and most recently “X-Men: Apocalypse”) I would say I’ve for the most part enjoyed the X-Men franchise. I think more so than the MCU they have touched on strong themes about prejudice, guilt, pain and just general acceptance really well, whereas most comic book films tend to be just straight popcorn flicks.

James Mangold’s “The Wolverine” was one of them for me. It was a strong film about mental anguish, learning to forgive yourself and finding redemption. Granted it does get schlocky at times, it was an emotional entry into the X-Men cannon and one of it’s strongest features (at least not until the third act) was its grounded approach to the character and emphasis on developing Logan as a person rather than just shoving him into the next action scene.

(You know, character development...)

The action played second to the story (What a concept!) and the result is a pretty strong movie…and this is why “Logan” is in some ways disappointing because it’s the story that plays second this time around.

In what can only be described as 20th Century Fox releasing 17 years worth of blue balls from its PG-13 rated X-Men franchise, “Logan” is one of the most over the top violent films in recent memory.

Logan does more than simply kill some goons as he has done in previous films; he maims, dismembers, decapitates and rips dudes apart and after a while it does feel like “Ok, we get it, its rated-R now…”

(Fox studio execs after being given the green light on an R-rated Wolverine flick)

For those who have seen the film you might be thinking “Well, the comic books are really violent, that’s what Wolverine is all about.”

Firstly, if this is what Wolverine is all about for you then the story of Batman is all about ninja moves and crazy gadgets apparently…

Secondly, if we’re going to review this film from a pure action standpoint there is a huge difference between excessive and effective action.

For instance, “John Wick: Chapter 2” is a great example of effective action; director Chad Stahelski puts the character of Wick in a multitude of varying violet scenarios where his tactics must change each time. The art direction from switching up the lighting, shooting different angles and using slow motion also add to the film’s effectiveness as a vehicle for action film-making.

(If you haven’t already, go watch both John Wick films btw. You’re welcome...)

In “Logan” it’s just one hackey, slashy scene after another that resemble more “Mortal Kombat” fatalities than a fluid string of action sequences. Yes, Wolverine fights much more like an animal than Wick’s more polished hitman demeanor but there’s no sense of directorial style to each scene; it’s just violent for the sake of violence.

The story is the film’s strongest point, however (albeit imperfect as well), when it’s not playing second fiddle to the violence, as we see both Logan and Professor Xavier at their lowest point in the series.

Logan’s anguish is visually very clear on screen and Xavier is downtrodden from the obvious loss of the X-Men (which is never fully explained). They both effectively play lost heroes and it’s both tragic and a joy to watch. There’s a great chemistry between the two actors, as there always has been, with Patrick Stewart playing a much more guttural, senile old grandpa version of Xavier and Hugh Jackman playing his reluctant caretaker in Logan. There’s a nice familial love between the two characters as they both represent to each other the last pockets of what they once were in their happier days. In this way the film makes a very strong point about family and always sticking with them through thick and thin.

(Family is not being ashamed to ask “Who farted?”)

Newcomers Boyd Holbrook and Dafne Keen are nice additions to the franchise too as Texas bad guy and violent 11-year-old super weapon respectively. Boyd is appropriately menacing and an easy to hate villain and while Keen is left to mostly scream in the first half, which bordered on irritating, in the second half she begins to show her range as an actress as more is learned about Laura (X-23 for you nerds out there) on a personal level.

What’s not properly executed about the story, however, is the source of Logan’s anguish.

Wolverine is sad because everything is shit in this somewhat apocalyptic future. The X-Men are gone, Xavier is senile and it appears the adamantium is starting to kill him on the inside. Because of this he has a death wish... buuuuuut “The Wolverine,” Mangold’s last film, already addressed this theme.

In that story Logan wants to die too because in this case he feels guilt for the death of Jean Grey and he goes and gets a procedure done to remove his healing ability so that he can finally die. But at the end of the movie he chooses to live and keep his healing because he accepts what happened and who he is and redeems himself through saving the character Mariko from the bad guys (In this case ninja and a giant robot Silver Samurai).

(Remember, Mangold? It was in the last fucking movie!)

So SPOILER at the climax of this film, knowing that if he injects himself with this super serum that was used on A FUCKING CLONE OF HIMSELF (seriously, super cheesy, almost took me out of the film) it’ll probably kill him but he can save the mutant kids from the evil G-men. Granted this is a heroic sacrifice he makes but it’s a sacrifice he wants to make; understand the difference?

It’s not that people should expect an uplifting ending going into this film but having Logan start the film wanting to die and just giving him his wish, felt cheap especially after the events of “The Wolverine” and felt like a weak fill-in for real catharsis because we’re all supposed to be sad if Logan dies (he does btw).

The film attempts to create a catharsis between him and X-23 at the very end but since they spend most of the film bickering at each other it feels as hollow as Anakin and Obi Wan pretending they were friends in the Star Wars Prequels.

(Obi Wan had enough of Anakin’s shit after a while...)

The film could have done more to play on perhaps the fact that Logan is extremely old and has grown tired of seeing people he loves die while he lives on (its touched on but once again, not effectively directed) and then maybe giving him his death wish would’ve better. Once again though, is it that great of a heroic sacrifice if he wanted to die anyway?

The point of any good story is that our hero changes from the start to end. Logan doesn’t change in this film; he is still sad and depressed with a very real death wish and he gets it granted at the end. There’s no real catharsis. The only thing that changes is that he’s dead.

(Don’t get mad at me, I just call it like I see’s it, bub...)

Anyways, overall despite my grievances “Logan” is a decent entry into the franchise but not quite what I may have wanted. It certainly has poignant moments with great character acting between its primary heroes but overall feels like more of an inordinately, violent action film than the moving drama it appeared to be.

If all you get out of Wolverine comic books is that he stabs, slashes and hacks people up then I’m sure you will enjoy this flick but if you’re looking for a strong humanistic story to play over that you might want to dial back your expectations.

VERDICT:

3 out of 5

Vaya con dios, Wolverine...

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