#zealot never left

[nyxavana]

IM FREE FROM MY ABUSIVE FAMILY!!!!!!! IM FINALLY FREE!!!!!!!! THANK GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[dj-of-the-coven]

“Unable to slot Jews into a clearly defined role within their political agenda, most of the left tended historically to regard them with considerable ambivalence, and, in some cases, extreme hostility. While supporting universal human rights, the left never saw antisemitism as a primary concern. Instead, it was a secondary issue (if an issue at all) that would be resolved as a side effect of the general social liberation that the left was pursuing. Intrinsic to this approach is the view that Jewish particularity is, in itself, a defect to be remedied through assimilation and disappearance. […] Any attempt by Jews to make the struggle against antisemitism into a separate problem deserving of the same passion devoted to other progressive causes was rejected as a diversion from the main issues that animate the left.”

- The New Antisemitism, Shalom Lappin

On Antisemitism: An Open Plea.

Over the course of 2024, I was physically assaulted for being a Jew three times: once by a man waiting outside the JCC, and twice while working the desk at an anarchist bookstore.

All three of these attacks were done by men, all almost immediately after identifying me as a Jew. One of my assaulters, a white man with scruffy facial hair and a bucket hat, clearly identified as some kind of Christian—he wore three cross necklaces and a blue shirt with the Virgin Mary on the front. One man was black, wearing pressed slacks and dark leather dress shoes. One man was college-aged, white, wearing a band hoodie and jeans. Two of the encounters were one-off incidents, whereas the Christian man searched for me multiple times at the bookstore while I was not present. I am a fairly large person, and one with a lot of combat training, so I was lucky that none of these incidents resulted in the worst possible outcomes for an early-20s woman confronted alone after dark. Many people are not so lucky when they are put in my place. Particularly Jewish women.

And as a quick aside, people don’t tend to take the Jewish part of “Jewish woman” seriously. When I add this comment to the story, a lot of people scoff. I can somewhat understand why; despite the curls, if you were to look at me, you might think, “How did they even know you were Jewish?”. For two of these men (the ones who didn’t see me coming out of the Jewish Community Center), the answer is fairly simple. When they heard my name, they paused and asked. I don’t like to assume the worst in people, and thus I confirmed, though in the time since I have gotten much sparser with revealing that information to strangers. This is how I know they were attacking me for that reason. When you reveal yourself to be a Jew, or are recognized against the odds, things can often become unsavory quickly.

Any leftist worth their salt would call these attacks against me unconscionable—I doubt that most would be willing to defend this behavior—but make no mistake. None of the men who attacked me were acting out some kind of exception to a rule, nor was I particularly surprised that these incidents all occurred in or around spaces that should be safe for Jews. This is the reality that the Jewish people live in. Wherever we are, we can expect a roughly equal reaction from the population, left wing or right wing, and the largest point of difference between the two is whether they will call you “Zio” or “Kike” before grabbing you by the collar.

I was attacked only three times last year. Yet, countless more times I have watched the people in my communities ignore the rhetoric that led to these attacks, wave them off as radicals, as zealots unrepresentative of their peers, and continue to live their lives as if these incidents don’t happen regularly.

This is a major problem on the left.

Yes—the left.

The American right-wing is axiomatically predisposed to this type of behavior. If they aren’t the ones committingthe hate crimes, then they are often the ones most comforted by them, affirmed that their goal of a pure-white America is one step closer to being attained. It’s never surprising for a Jew to encounter a conservative with just one or two comments to make about us being “good with money”, “owning the banks”, “controlling the media”, and other examples of kindergarten-level political opinions. On the other hand, one wouldn’t automatically assume that a leftist would hold such opinions. Being opposed to race-based and religion-based discrimination, it would be a bit counter-intuitive for leftists to say such things about Jews. Wouldn’t it?

You would be surprised.

If there’s anything that the last year has taught me, it’s that the left is much more susceptible to antisemitism than ever previously understood, despite its long history within progressive social movements. So long as you stipulate “Israeli” and/or “Zionist” before saying the word “Jews”, any and all manner of violent hate speech can be considered revolutionary sentiment: I have seen fellow leftists call Jews, not just "Zionists", inhuman, bloodthirsty, real-life monsters, scum, vermin, pollutants; capitalist pigs and agents of genocide; a fake people with a fake identity and a fake claim to safety and dignity. And pointing this out will net you with a number of other responses, questions of whether you support the actions of the Israeli government, as if the point of the discussion was ever about that and not about the antisemitism being lobbed at you in broad daylight. Talks of antisemitism are always shafted into talks about Israel regardless of where in the diaspora you happen to be. Those of us who are staunch leftists, who want nothing but peace and solidarity with Arabs and Muslims—which is a majority of Jews—are pressured into remaining silent about our worsening mental health and safety for the sake of the cause. We’re told to speak later, when the most important voices have spoken first: every ethnic, gender, and sexuality minority first, then maybe the Jews. It was only recently that I realized this mythical “later” will never come.

Largely, Jews just want peace. Jews want safety. Jews want recognition of our suffering, regardless of the actions of a government that might not even be ours, depending on who you’re talking to—but Israeli Jews deserve these things as well. There is nothing wrong with criticizing the Israeli government, but when will goyische leftists realize that Israel’s government, like all governments, is not a true representation of its people? When will goyim realize that it’s not okay to dehumanize Jews, no matter what their political opinion is? When will they finally wake up embarrassed by their own behavior, realizing that my Jewish peers, my cousins, my extended family, my community—all of us are just people who are entitled to the same respect and empathy as any ethnic group in the world? Will they ever learn to recognize their own bigotry? Will they ever see the world from a pair of Jewish eyes?

The answer is, for all intents and purposes, no. But I don’t want to stop trying just because it feels hopeless.

If you are a leftist goy and you’re still reading this, I would like to ask of you only one thing: stop talking and start listening. If you don’t know anything about Jewish history, don’t talk about it. If you know less than four Jewish people, and you keep them at an arm’s length in case they turn out to be “evil baby-killers”, then you shouldn’t mention your Jewish friends. If you believe only Sephardi and Mizrahi Jews count as “real Jews”, you shouldn’t be weighing in on which Jews count as white. If you couldn’t name any Jewish holiday besides Chanukah, you shouldn’t bother to call yourself educated on my people and our traditions. If you believe that the Jewish people, alone among all peoples, deserve to be oppressed for the crimes of a vocal few, then frankly you should not consider yourself a human rights activist at all.

If you are a Jew, all I have to say to you is that I’m sorry. I’m sorry that it’s taken me so long to speak up on your behalf; on behalf of all of us. I’m so sorry that everyone is acting like this is fine. I’m sorry that our lives have been shrinking ever-smaller as we’ve been made unsafe in queer spaces, disabled spaces, online communities and real-life ones, spaces that should belong to everyone. I wish I could fix your pain. I hope you’ll accept my attempt to chip away at it.

This is not the first time a Jew has come forward to speak about this, but I hope that adding my voice to the conversation will help at least one more person realize that what has happened to us is wrong. There is no world in which the collective punishment of an entire ethnic group is justified. No matter what Israel has done, no matter what tragedies and injustices have been inflicted on Palestinians by the IDF, there is no world in which this mass-scale vilification of Jews can be called real justice. There is no world in which these means justify the ends. And what ends do you even want to this? For all Israelis to blow up and die? For all Jews to stop practicing our faith? Or do you want the long-proposed answer to the Jewish question—the total annihilation of all Jews from the planet Earth?

Of course not. But if you don’t make an effort to educate yourself on antisemitism, then the answer to that question will make itself known in your mind, and in your heart, before you even know it. There is no genetic difference between you and a Nazi.

[wishfulsketching]

I think some people miss the fact that Silco loves as hard as he hates. After the fallout with Vander, he had no real friends left. The betrayal, which was not merely a repriortizing of ideals but an outright murder attempt that left him disfigured, may have actually pushed him to become a bigger zealot than he already was.

The betrayal led to hate, that goes without saying, but I'd argue that all of Silco's love also redirected from people (who cannot be trusted) to his ambitions (which cannot hurt him, at least not directly).

I think it's really telling that once Jinx entered his life, Silco loved her more than his ideals. If he had only loved her insofar as she was useful to him, Silco would not hesitate to give her up. We see this was not the case. And, after finally understanding Vander's perspective and likely ruminating on the irony of his impending death, Silco bore no ill will against Jinx accidentally shooting him in a fit of distress. Instead, he affirmed his love for her and tacitly forgives her.

This makes Silco's forgiving of Vander in the au timeline believable. If he found the letter or Vander apologized and told him that the violence was in a moment of passionate weakness, Silco would forgive him provided not too much time has passed to allow resentment to fester. Jinx in the original timeline proves that an abundance of love and forgiveness are in-character for him. He is in fact a character of tremendous extremes.

Sorry for sitting with this for a while, wanted to have the time to answer.

I think this is a very good analysis of Silco, yes. He was never perfect, most likely could be very intense about their plans for Zaun and maybe did not care about if Enforcers got hurt, but that is almost given. He lived in absolute misery and he had clear enemies.

The thing that really made me get Silco was when he was confronting Vander in s1. The way he says "for RESPECT?!" was so telling of his...well, whole deal, the way he looks to the side like he could not believe that Vander didn't get it. He was still fighting the fight but now with trauma! Yay!

I can see him being able to forgive but like you said, there should not be too much time in between the drowning and the forgiveness. The way Vander tried to drown Silco is so violent, I was so taken back by it when I first watched Arcane. It was so clear that Silco could not do anything when Vander got his hands on him, the power difference was too great. He was terrified

And even when Silco tried to escape, leave the situation, Vander attacked again. It's so...cruel?? And that is why I love it. I love how messy they are. They lived among violence their whole life so yes, what's a bit of murder between them if they just talk about it seriously after. And give time to each other.

It's just so juicy that the man who most likely protected Silco his whole life attacked him the cruelest way possible. AND. It gives some nice flavor for Vander. He might be a house wife but he can kill you

[arc-misadventures]

The Sorcerer’s Dark Magic

Bruised, battered, and bloody.

This was the sorry state of, Cinder Fall.

A member of, Salem’s inner circle had been identified whilst she was in, Vale. Beacon sent several of its highly trained, Hunter’s, and Atlas had also sent in members of its elite team of, Specialists to bring her in.

They had found her, and her cronies in the midst of a pack of, White Fang members lead by the murderous zealot, Adam Taurus.

The fight had been long, and bloody, costing the lives of several Hunters, Specialist, and many members of, Cinder’s entourage, along with scores of members of the, White Fang. Even the murderous zealot, Adam Taurus’s life was taken in the fight.

But, they won, and they had taken, Cinder Fall in alive. And, now it was time for her interrogation to begin.

An event that would scar many who whiteness the horrors about to be unleashed.

~~~

The door opened to reveal a trio standing before a one way mirror, they all turned, and nodded their greetings at the duo as they entered the room. Within the room there was the headmaster of, Beacon Academy, Ozpin. The deputy headmistress, Glynda Goodwitch. And, lastly there was a seasoned huntsman, and a drunkard named, Qrow Branwen.

Entering the room was, Headmaster of Atlas Academy, and General of the Atlas Military, James Ironwood, followed closely by his aide, Specialist, Winter Schnee. They joined the trio at the mirror to stare at the bloody, and bruised body of, Cinder Fall.

Ironwood: So, what’s the plan?

Ozpin; Hello to you too, James. Right now the plan is to wait.

Ironwood: Wait, wait for what?

Qrow: The Sorcerer is finishing up his treatment of the wounded.

Ironwood: The Sorcerer? You have a magic user; why didn’t you notify me that you found a maiden?

Ozpin shook his head as he watched, Cinder pull at her aura suppressing restrains that binded her hands in a vain attempt to escape.

Ozpin: I would have if we did, but no. The Sorcerer is just a nickname he picked up.

Ironwood: He? So it’s a male. Hmmm… Who is this, Sorcerer you’re talking about?

Glynda: His name is, Jaune Arc; He is an experienced, Hunter who is a teacher here at, Beacon Academy, and he doubles as an assistant school nurse when the need arises.

Glynda’s brief rundown gave, Ironwood a simple understanding of who he was, and considering how normal he sounded, he understood why, Ozpin never brought him up before. But, why would he need someone so plain to interrogate her?

Winter: Arc…? Does he have blond hair, and blue eyes?

Glynda: Yes.

Winter: I believe I met him. He seems like a kind, and caring individual who cares deeply for the wellbeing of his students. Why are you having him interrogate the prisoner?

Ozpin: We need her to talk; We need to know what, Salem’s plans are, and who is working with her. If we try doing so ourselves we will get nowhere. But, if we let, Mr. Arc do it himself, we will get all the answers, and more that we are looking for.

Ironwood: Are you sure about this, Ozpin?

Ozpin: Honestly, James if I was being ‘interrogated’ by, Mr. Arc. I’m not sure what secrets I wouldn’t spill to get him to stop.

Ozpin shuddered as he remember the last time he sat on, Jaune interrogating someone. It was effective, but disturbing.

Qrow: Wait, you made that sound like he wasn’t going to talk with her, but more like he’s going to ‘talk’ with her.

Ozpin: …

Ozpin: It must be done…

Qrow: Seriously?! You’re gonna make, Tai 2.0 go in there, and torture her?

Ironwood: What?!

James looked to, Ozpin as he held his head in defeat. He had no other options left. And, considering what, Cinder, and her associates were planning, and how they barely caught it, and just managed to stop it. They needed her to talk to prevent anything else from coming.

Ironwood: You can’t possibly have forced him to do this?!

Glynda: Jaune agreed to do it! He lost several of his friends in the raid to get her, this is his own way of avenging them. And, you know how effect his methods are, we both have seen what he can, and will do to someone.

Qrow looked away before taking another drink from his flask. He knew what, Jaune could do, he knew exactly what he could do. That didn’t mean he liked what he saw.

Qrow: Fuck…

Qrow took a swig from his flask as he turned back to look at the girl in cuffs. Ironwood gave the drunk one fleeting glance before turning to face his friend.

Ironwood: How will this, Arc fellow make her talk?

Ozpin: He will no doubt try, and talk to her at first. But, when that inevitably fails, he will use his semblance instead.

Ironwood: And, what is his semblance?

Ozpin: It’s… Oh, he’s here.

~~~

The door opened, and closed with a heavy click of steel. A blond haired man entered the room. Cinder eyes him warningly as he walked over to the table, and took the seat across from her. He put down a notebook, and a pen, before brushing some unseen dust from the desk before he turned to face her.

: Hello, Ms. Cinder Fall. My name is, Jaune Arc. May I call you, Cinder?

Cinder said nothing, and just stared him down. They stared each other down for a while before, Jaune shrugged his shoulders, and opened his notebook to start taking notes.

Jaune: Not much of a talker, eh? No matter, we’ll get you talking soon enough.

Jaune: Now then, Ms. Fall, let’s summarize the past days events: A team of, Beacon students stumbled upon your little operation going on in, Mount Glenn. A team of veteran, Hunters from, Vale, as well as a team of, Atlasian Specialists came in to prevent you from colliding a train into the old train house in downtown, Vale thus releasing a horde of, Grimm into the city. Did I make a mistake in any of that, Ms. Fall?

Cinder: …

Jaune: Still not talking, eh? No matter, I’ll get you talking sooner, or later. So, pray tell what were you planning to do?

Cinder glared daggers at the man who radiated golden retriever energy, but said nothing.

Jaune: Twas a rhetorical question, since you won’t answer me after all. So, let us speculate then shall we?

Jaune: Hmm… you wanted to launch a horde of, Grimm into the city… but, why?

Jaune: Since the White Fang were involved was it to act as a protest against the mistreatment of faunas?

Cinder: …

Jaune: I expect that was the, White Fang’s plan, at least what they thought the plan was. So logically they would do this to kill people, both human, and faunas as a means of retribution for past, and future wrongs.

Cinder continued to glare at him, but within those burning eyes, Jaune could see her asking him a simple question.

Jaune: What the hell am I talking about? That’s what you’re thinking, I can see it in your eyes. But, well, extremists all ways take the simplest things, that often have the simplest solutions to the extreme. Hence the name: extremists. But, what’s your angle in all of this?

Jaune leaned closer, and stared, Cinder down. Their eyes locked on one another in a staring contest that made, Cinder’s blood burn. And, yet this feeling in her blood wasn’t from rage.

Jaune: We asked your associates what you game in all of this was… And, what were their names again…?

Jaune flipped through his notebook, before pulling out two photos, attached to slips of paper.

Jaune: Ahh yes… Mercury Black, and… Emerald Sustrai, that’s their names. The didn’t snitch on you, they never would. But, as they say… ‘Dead man tells no tale~!’

Jaune could see her eyes flash wider for the briefest of moments. She seemed to not care about her associates, at least, she seemingly didn’t care that much.

Jaune: But, your pal, Roman Torchwik. He sung like a song bird, and told me all of your dastardly deeds, after receiving some proper… motivation~!

~~~

Ironwood watched carefully as he listened to, Mr. Arc as he interrogate the prisoner.

Ironwood: Did you also ‘interrogate’ this, Torchwik fellow?

Ozpin: There was no need to, we offered him a plea deal for all the information he had on her, and he was rather forthcoming coming. Although his information as to what, Ms. Fall’s plans are, were rather limited.

Ironwood: I see, hopefully this, Arc fellow can make use of it. Now, I don’t mean to sound… disturbed. But, when is this supposed… ‘interrogation’ meant to begin.

Glynda: It already begun. As soon as, Jaune entered the room the ‘interrogation’ started.

Winter: How can you be sure of that? All they’ve done is talk, nothing that hints towards torture has started.

Glynda: She’s sweating…

Everyone looked over to see a bead if sweat drip down, Cinder’s forehead as cold air escaped her lips.

Ironwood: What? That rooms kept cold to stop her from using her fire semblance, why is she sweating?

Ozpin: Good question…

~~~

Jaune: Now… Roman told us all about your evil plans. Well… that of which he was privy to that is…

Jaune put on a show, Cinder could tell he was trying to put her off guard, and it wasn’t working. The sweat falling down her head was getting on her nerves though, the room was freezing cold, and yet she was sweating. She could help, but wonder why.

Jaune: You hired him to steal large quantities of, Dust. Though he says you threatened him. Now, I am curious as to why you needed that much, Dust? You weren’t selling it, and you did make several bombs on that train, but the quantity of, Dust that was used in those bombs is no where near the amount that was stolen. Are you trying to artificially inflate the price of, Dust?

Cinder glared daggers at the man, hoping to burn a hole through this golden retriever of a human being. But, still refused to answer.

Jaune: That would mean you’re working for, Jacques Schnee! I knew you were a heartless bitch, but I couldn’t believe you were that heartless to work with that Grimm spawn bastard son of a bitch!

Cinder: I don’t work for that, Dust whore… Ahh?!

Jaune relished the sound of her little outburst as a vicious grin crept from the corner of his mouth as he stared down the prisoner as she pulled back from him.

Jaune: You spoke~! Ah-hahahaaa~!

~~~

Winter: Calling my sperm donour a, ‘Dust whore;’ I best remember that.

Qrow: Oh, you’re not upset that people are making fun of daddy?

Winter: The majority of the people of, Atlas, and Mantle despise my father, I among the top three individuals that despise the man. I’ve been using photos of the mans face for target practice for the new recruits.

Ozpin: Really now? And, how is that going, Specialist Schnee?

Winter: Better than I expected; Atlas’s military personnel’s average accuracy when handling firearms has gone up by 27%, and is still climbing.

Ironwood: Oh really? I was wondering how that increased happened. Well done, Specialist Schnee. Start implementing that in, Atlas Academy, I’m curious to see how the students will improve if we implement such a… policy.

Winter: I will see it done, Sir.

Ozpin: Should we implement such a policy here as well, Glynda?

Glynda: We shall discuss that later, Ozpin. The Sorcerer is at work.

~~~

Jaune: So tell me… what was your plan…?

Jaune’s smile sent shivers down, Cinder’s; it was a calculated smile, its intent was to unnerve, and put one’s foe on the backfoot.

Cinder: …

Jaune: …

Cinder: …

Jaune: Hmm?

Jaune: Still no talky?

Cinder: …

Jaune: Okay then… So you don’t work for that dust whore. You obviously don’t work with the, White Fang, you’re obviously not a faunas. Unless…?

Jaune was giving her the once over, as if to find some hidden faunas trait that was hidden behind her clothes.

Cinder: I am not a faunas…

Jaune: No…?

(Tap, tap, tap.)

Jaune: I would have guessed you were some sort of snake faunas; Hidden fangs in your mouth, elongated tongue those kind of things. Nothing?

Cinder: No…

Jaune: Well, then you’re obviously working for some sort of hidden secret organization that’s bent on the total, and complete destruction of the world!

Cinder: …

(Tap, tap, tap.)

Jaune: Hmm… you’re quite good at hiding your emotions, but your eyes keep giving things away.

Cinder’s eyes flashed for a moment before she looked away. She cursed herself for letting her emotions escape her harsh grasp. She had done plenty of research on the staff at, Beacon Academy, but, Jaune Arc was one she couldn’t find much information on. At most it was common knowledge that if you asked anyone anything about him they would tell you the same thing. Jaune tended to keep his personal life like that, personal. At most it was know that he was single, and the only son if his family.

Well, as secretive as he may be, it was no where near as…?!

Jaune: Why does the witch want to destroy the world?

~~~

Ironwood: Wait, what?! Ozpin, how does he know about, Salem?

Ozpin: One of, Mr. Arc’s greatest skills is his observational awareness. I thought I was being subtle with any information retaining to, Salem, but he picked up on my… unsaid words. And, forced me to talk…

Ironwood: Forced? Did he use his semblance on you?

Ozpin: Possibly…? I am not sure.

Ironwood: Can’t you tell when he’s using his semblance?

Glynda: It depends on how, Jaune’s using it. It can be very subtle, subtle enough that you don’t even realize he’s using it. Subtle enough that even he doesn’t realize he’s using it at times.

Ozpin: But, when it’s obvious he’s using his semblance you become painfully aware that he’s using it. To say it’s blood curdling in its usage is an understatement of the extreme of extremes.

Qrow: Ughh… I remember when I saw him use it to its fullest extent; Can’t say the guy didn’t have it coming, but throwing up my lunch wasn’t what I had in mind that day…

Ironwood: …?

Winter: What the hell is his semblance?

~~~

Cinder: What witch?

(Tap, tap, tap.)

Jaune: Oh come on now… I know all about, Salem, and Ozpin’s stupid little shadow war going on behind the scenes. So if you plan on playing dumb well…

(Tap, tap, tap)

Jaune: Let’s just say it won’t work well for you.

Cinder could feel sweat dripping down her head in a freezing cold room, his words caused dread to slowly build up in her heart.

Cinder knew that playing dumb wouldn’t work any longer. At best she could deflect, and feed him bread crumps to cause him to look away from her true objective.

Cinder: I was trying to… trying to cause a, Grimm stampede in the hopes of destroying, Vale.

Jaune: To what end?

Cinder: Spread the seeds of chaos, and show, Ozpin, and his allies that his precious little cities are not as safe as they think they are.

Jaune: To what end?

Cinder: I just told you; To destroy, Vale.

Jaune: Don’t play dumb with me my dear, I’m not an idiot like, Ozpin, or General Ironwood. They would take you words at face value, but I can tell you’re hiding something…

Cinder: What is there to hide; you already know everything I planned to do, you’re just trying to confirm what happened for you reports, aren’t you?

Jaune: Well…

(Tap, tap, tap.)

Jaune: You could say that… but, your goal wasn’t to destroy, Vale… No, no, no. Your goal may be quite well thought out, but you don’t care if, Vale fell. No, no, I recon your plan wasn’t to destroy, Vale… A definitive bonus if your plan succeed, but no. Your true goal was to distract, Ozpin… but, to distract him from what tis the question…

Cinder’s heart was beating erratically as this interrogation continued on. She had read, Mercury’s, and Emerald’s reports on the man; they read of a kind, and caring man who would lay his life down for his students without a moment’s hesitation. But, the man currently before her, was not that man.

He exuded an aura of cold, calculating indifference, and a predatory smile that sent shivers down her spine, the exact same smile he was giving her right now. There was a sparkle in his eyes as he came to a simple conclusion; the an answer to a riddle that answers everything he wanted to know, and more.

Jaune: You’re after the, Fall Maiden, aren’t you…?

~~~

Ozpin: The Fall Maiden…?

The answer to a question unasked escaped, Ozpin’s throat in a ragged whisper. It made sense, too much sense that this was, Cinder’s goal, she was after the, Maiden’s powers, and she was willing to destroy, Vale to get it.

Qrow: So it was her, and her cronies that attacked, Amber! Why didn’t I see that…?

Ironwood: She never did finish off, Amber because, Qrow came to the rescue, this is all an elaborate plot to get the, Fall Maiden’s power… I amazed that, Mr. Arc was able to come to such a conclusion.

Glynda: But, to go to such extents to acquire the, Fall Maidens powers seems a bit over the top.

Winter: Couldn’t she have just killed her when she first had the chance, and acquired her powers that way? Why did she plan to destroy, Vale in the process?

~~~

Jaune: Oh? Now isn’t that an interesting reaction!

An involuntary, sharp gasp escaped, Cinder’s lips as he effortlessly hit the nail on the head. Arc, knew about the, Maiden’s, in the case what else did he know! She looked away from him, daring to hope he would not find anymore clues in her broken mask.

Jaune: Excuse me, we’re talking; tis quite rude to look away from someone while we’re talking.

Cinder couldn’t look at this man, there was something off about him…

(Tap, tap, tap)

Jaune: Excuse me, don’t turn awaywe’re still talking here.

Something that could make the skin crawl…

Jaune: Oi, look at me.

Something that was deemed unnatural…

Jaune: We’re not done speaking, Cinder.

Something that was indescribable to the senses…

Jaune: Cinder… Look at me.

But, it was something completely explainable.

Jaune: Haaa…

Something so obvious, and simple, that it was often overlooked as an item of irrelevance.

Jaune: I said…

A semblance.

Jaune: Look at me.

Cinder could feel her entire body being wrenched forward, her muscles screaming in pain as they were forced to move in what felt like an unnatural, but completely natural manner. Her body was set straight in her chair, her head forced to stare at, Jaune face, making her stare into those calm, uncaring cerulean eyes of his. She tried to turn her body, to squirm in defiance as he stared her down, but she could not move her body by a hairs breath.

Jaune: Now, shall we continue our discussion?

Cinder: A-A semblance…

Jaune: Hmm…?

Cinder: A semblance! Y-You’ve been using your semblance on me this whole time! From the moment you entered this room, you’ve been using a semblance on me to make me talk, haven’t you!

Jaune: CorrrrecT!

~~~

Ironwood: Ahh, telekinesis!

Winter: He’s a telepath? That would most certainly explain how he was able to get, Miss Fall to talk.

Qrow: Nope.

Ironwood: What?

Qrow: The kids not telepathic.

Ironwood: He isn’t?

Winter: But, the way he forced her body to move, that’s clearly a telekinesis based semblance.

Qrow: It may look that way, but his semblance is nothing like that. If it was, I would be better at holding my stomachs contents when he decides to… let loose.

Glynda: I’d doubt that.

Qrow: Well… it wouldn’t be as bad… hopefully?

Ironwood: Then what is it?

Ozpin: It would be best to let, Mr. Arc explain it…

~~~

Cinder: Y-You’ve been using your semblance to extract information from me! Haven’t you!

Jaune: Mmmm… In a manner of speaking… I’ve mostly been connecting dots, and what not from what clues you’ve given me. That, and reading your facial expressions, any little bodily ticks you are showing off. I’ve mostly been using my semblance to make you feel a sense of unease. It’s been quite effective if I do say so.

Cinder: What is it; Telekinesis?! Are you some sort of psychic?! What is your semblance?

Jaune: Oh, nothing so… civilized as those…

(Tap, tap, tap.)

Jaune: Nothing like that…

Cinder: That tapping! You’ve been doing that ever since you came here… why?!

Jaune: As I said, ‘To make you feel unease.’

(Tap, tap, tap.)

Jaune: I take it that it has been working.

Cinder: How does tapping your fingers make me feel unease?! Do you have some sort of telekinesis based semblance?! I demand to know!

Jaune: As I said: It may seem liked that, but no. I don’t have a physic, telekinesis, and sort of moving stuff with my mind based semblance.

Cinder: THEN WHAT THE HELL IS IT!!!

Jaune calmly stared at, Cinder as her rugged gasps of breath slowly tapered out. Before he calmly responded to her question.

Jaune: I’ll answer your question: How is that I am making you feel unease, why the tapping, how I forced your body to turn to face me. I’ll explain it all. But, in exchange you have to answer something for me.

Cinder: And, what is that?!

Jaune: What does, Salem want with the keys to the vault, and what does she intend to do with its contents when they are emptied?

Cinder: W-What…? H-How did you figure it out…?

Cinder’s rage, the blazing inferno that burned within her body was suddenly snuffed out as if it was a match struck in the midst of a typhoon. What was replaced was stunned fear. She hadn’t mentioned a single thing, no clues, no hints, but this freak had managed to put together every piece of her plan, and managed to figure out what her true goal really was!

And, all he did was calmly look at her with a cocky smirk forming from the bottom of his lip.

Jaune: Oh I just managed to connect the dots that others leave unseen. Four kingdoms. Four Academies. Four Maidens, and lastly, Four Relics. My educated guess tells me that one of the four relics is hidden in one of the four kingdoms academies. And, that they are kept behind in a secret, hidden vault that requires a key to unlock them. And, that key, is a maiden. Am, I wrong?

Cinder: …

Cinder: You’re correct…

Jaune: Am I know~?

~~~

The group all stood back as, Jaune turned to give them a dark smile as he managed to make, Cinder spill all her information on why she was going to attack, Beacon Academy.

And, it had only been ten minutes.

Glynda: Salem’s after the, Relics? I can only imagine the destruction she could wrought across, Remnant if she had even one of those…

Ironwood: We need to tighten security back in, Atlas. And, in all the other academies at that! In all the kingdoms! We cannot allow her to gain access to any, Relics!

Qrow: What is she even planning to do with those things? They aren’t all that dangerous no are they?

Ozpin: She not after any one, Relic for its individual capabilities… she wants all four of them.

Ironwood: What is the difference is she has one, Relic, or all of them? The destruction she could wreak across, Remnant could be unimaginable!

Ozpin: Not if those two came back…

Ironwood: What?

~~~

Jaune: Excellent! Now that we have all the speculation as to why you are doing this out of the way. Now I must ask who your other accomplices are, and what they are doing, and we can finish everything up once, and for all. Alright?

Cinder: No…

Jaune: No…?

Cinder: You said you would tell me what your semblance was… I answered your question… But, unless you tell me the truth… I won’t tell you anything! It doesn’t matter if you torture me… I will never talk!

Jaune: No, that’s fair… You answered my question, tis only fair that I answer yours in kind. Tell me… I assume you’ve done your research on all of the staff at, Beacon, myself included. So, I can assume you heard about my nickname?

Cinder: Yes… The staff here call you, ‘The Sorcerer.’ But, none of the students know why.

Jaune: That’s because, ‘The Sorcerer,’ isn’t really what my nickname is all about. And, I can assure you, a few students know what the story behind my nickname is, and my semblance is as a result of that. And, the reason why no one knows that start is simply because they just don’t like talking about it.

Jaune: You see… I can use magic…

Cinder: Impossible… Only five people in the world can use magic, and they all happen to be female… which you clearly are not.

Jaune: True… I just like to referring my semblance as magic, helps others… comprehend my semblance, and its abilities.

Cinder: Then what is your semblance…?

Cinder leaned in and scowled at, Jaune as he returned her scowl with a devious and, all knowing smirk as he softly replied.

Jaune: Blood Magic~!

Cinder: What…?

Jaune: Blood Magic! That’s what my semblance is! I can freely manipulate the blood of any living being! Making them my puppet…

Cinder could feel her eyes darting to the right, and lefr, then back to, Jaune, and yet she had no intention in her mind to move her eyes.

Cinder: M-M-My eyes?! You’re moving my eyes?!

Jaune: I can also regulate your heart beat! Why do you think I kept on tapping my finger?

(Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap…)

Cinder focused on her body, slowly she started to feel the controlled beating of her heart as, Jaune tapped his finger to a steady beat.

Cinder: You made my heart race at an unnatural beat… causing my body to go into shock because of my blood wasn’t flowing properly, causing me to…

Jaune: Panic. Yes, tis a very effective way at making people nervous. I have to tap the beat though… I could hold out my hand, and flex my fingers inward, like so…

Jaune held his hand before, Cinder, and simply made a closed fist that lasted, but a hairs breath. However…

Cinder: AHHHHHHH?!!?!

It caused, Cinder to collapse in pain as her breath came in hard, and laboured gasps like a drowning man struggling for air as water filled their lunga. Her eyes widened in horror at the stunning realization of what he had just done to her.

Cinder: You… Y-You… haaahaha… you were crushing my heart?!

Jaune: Correct… My semblance is no doubt among the most powerful there is. I can tell precisely where a person is based upon feeling a persons circulatory systems. I can even tell people apart to some extent.

Jaune turned behind him to look at the one way mirror, and pointed at it.

Jaune: Right there is, Qrow Branwen. I can feel the alcohol in his veins, don’t ask me how, I can’t explain it. Next to, Qrow right there should be, Glynda Goodwitch. I can tell it’s her because the blood flows differently in woman than it does in men.

Jaune: I can also tell it’s her because I can sense more blood in the… front.

Jaune turned back to look at, Cinder; his face etched into a look filled with self loathing, and disscontempt.

Jaune: There are many things I despise about my semblance.

He shook his head in disgust as he pointed back at the mirror.

Jaune: Ahem… right next to her is, Ozpin; I can tell because I can feel his body posture that indicates he is resting on a cane, and that he is holding a bug in his hand. And, all the caffeine in his veins. Guy seriously needs to cut back on the joe…

Jaune: Next to, Ozpin is another woman. I have no idea who she is, but I know she’s there.

Jaune: And, right there is, General James Ironwood. I can only sense half a man partly floating in the air… such a perverse feeling… I can feel the blood flowing to his toes on one leg, but on the other it stops when it reaches his hip. The same on his arms; I can feel it reach his finger tips one one hand, and yet on the other I feel it stop at the shoulder joint… Such a ghastly feeling…

~~~

Winter: B-Blood magic?! That’s his semblance: Blood Magic?!

Ozpin: It is as he says… he can sense, and manipulate the blood in a persons body. To say it’s ghastly is a understatement of a lifetime.

Qrow: He can tell it’s me based on my blood alcohol levels? I better cut back a bit…

Glynda: He knew it was me because of my bust…?

Winter: At least he takes no pleasure in knowing that.

Glynda: Haaa… A gentleman to the end…

Ozpin: James? Are you alright?

James Ironwood gaze was dead stead at staring at his right hand, his robotic hand. It was a terrifying thought, that, Mr. Arc could feel precisely where his body ended, and where his cybernetics began without even touching at him. He understood the pains wrought upon his body in ways no others could, not even the victim of such mutilations could feel.

Ironwood: I can… speculate why I haven’t seen, Mr. Arc until now… Such a semblance must bare heavily on its user…

Ozpin: Jaune tends to keep to himself out of necessity, rather than a desire to be left alone. To many people around is like listening to a thousand voices all at once. Simply put; it’s overwhelming to the senses.

Ironwood: I take it then that, Mr. Arc is done with the interrogations? At least…using his semblance?

Ozpin stared at, Cinder as she managed to regain her breathing, and steadied her heart beat as she stared defiantly at, Jaune. Ozpin shook his head at the notion.

Ozpin: I’m afraid, James… the worse is about to begin…

~~~

Cinder: Haa haaa… Hahahaha!

Jaune: What’s so funny?

Cinder: You told me what your semblance is… I now know what you can do with that semblance of yours… it doesn’t matter what you do now! It doesn’t matter what! I will not tell you anything! You’ll crush my heart before I let anything spill! Come on, Arc! Do your worst!

Jaune: Pfff! Haha… hahaha… Aaaahahahahahaha!

Terror filled, Cinder veins as, Jaune let loose a laugh that found everything, down to most minute of details, in, Cinder’s attempt to show her bravado, her arrogant pride absolutely, unequivocally hilarious.

Jaune: Haha-ha-haaaa…

Jaune: My worst? You think me grasping your heart is the worst I can do…? My dear sweet summers child… I can do so much worser things than that, that honestly; I’m not sure what my worst is!

Jaune: I can bend every bone in your body till it shatters, then put them back together! I can stop your heart, kill you, and then bring you back to life! I can cause a brain aneurysm, and kill you on the spot! Cure you, and again I could bring you back to life! I could crush your entire body, turn every muscle in your body in on yourself until your body is nothing more than a meat cube! And, I know I can do this, because I’ve already done it before, and I will do it again!

Jaune: So tell me, Cinder Fall… Do you want to just tell me who else you are working with, and what are your other plans. Or, shall I torment you with pain unimaginable that I may break your mind from the pain?

Cinder could understand that he was just saying this to scare her, that he wouldn’t got that far to break her. But, she knew deep in her heart, that he could do it. But, she knew he couldn’t kill her, he needed her alive, otherwise all her secrets would go with her to her grave. She resolved her, and she would grin, and bare what was to come.

Cinder: Do your worst asshole! Hak-sptoo!

And, with that she spat on, Jaune’s who merely rubbed it off, and shook his head in disappointment.

Jaune: Haa… very well… I did warn you…

Jaune leaned back in his chair, and held his hand up, before he turned to gaze at, Cinder one last time.

Jaune: You know… They say there are different ways one gains their semblance; Personality, or circumstances… I believe the later one is applicable for me. Cause you see… everyone thinks I’m an only child. When in reality, I’m the only son in my family, when I actually have seven sisters. So, I think I developed my semblance, just to shut them up, because I swear…

Jaune leaned forward, and gave, Cinder one more predatory smile.

Jaune: That seemed to happen at least once a week!

Cinder pondered for a moment what he meant by, ‘once a week.’ Until it dawned on her, and a terrifying thought appeared across her mind. If he knew how to deal with that, then he knew how it was cause, and if he knew how it was cause…?!

“Snap~!”

Cinder:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!

Then she would know what true pain felt like.

~~~

Haaa…

To think I went through all of that just for that last bit…

[klaus-littlestwolf]

I can say for sure that we all loved the Catholic school smut and therefore it just made me a new dark desire so heree comes request with our favorite hybrid

Something horny and dark at the same time

(by the way I ALSO read and write to heal religious trauma 🙏🏻)

Reader is a werewolf raised by a very conservative family and there is a lot of abuse in it specially because they think she is demoniac (they aren't werewolves)

In his path to make hybrids klaus finds her and decides to take her, he saw the way she was tortured and remembered the way mikael used to beat him, so he kills her parents

He thinks she will be scared but she was relieved and didn't even blink or tried to help when they were being murdered

She was raised apart from the world so literally everything is new to her and klaus loves to show her all the beautiful things and teach her how to be a hybrid

Obviously she also doesn't know anything about sex (innocence kink maybe?) and eventually she and klaus starts to date but she has no idea of how a relationship should work and klaus makes a good time teaching her all about how to give and receive pleasure and ends with a really good smut like the last one you wrote

Love uuu

The way you said ‘horny and dark’ I assumed you wanted a Yandere Klaus so that’s what I did

Warning: Conservative views from parents, religious trauma and bashing, smut bordering on Dub-con with how naive she is, Don’t Like=Don’t Read

DD:DNE

If your parents had known you were a werewolf when they adopted you they would have given you back immediately. Sadly there’s no way to know that until you’re in an accident.

Your family was always abusive to you, from the moment you were given to them from the 100% definitely illegal agency (since a man with as many arrests as your ‘father’ can’t legally adopt a child). When you turned however, it became worse.

It was sad how it happened, you had saved your parents by grabbing and turning the steering wheel out of the way of an oncoming 18 wheeler, sadly as you did you ended up in the way of a man on a motorcycle who crashed into your car and fell down the side of the mountain you were driving up. The bike should have been driving slower, your father should have been paying attention, but of course only you suffer the consequences.

Your first shift was agonizing and your father, being the religious man that he was, knew you were a demon! A demon who changed on the full moon and every full moon he chained you up like a monster and left you in the woods outside to suffer. They prayed over you , sometimes spraying you with a hose or whipping you while promising God that your suffering was repentance or some shit like that. You decided a long time ago that if their God was this vengeful then you didn’t want anything to do with the “Heaven” they promised. Not that you knew anything different, the outside world had been cut off from you since you were given to them to live in the mountains like the religious zealots that your parents are. Your mother wasn’t nearly as abusive, she just spends her time praying over you for the safe return of your soul and ranting like your father about how the government is controlled by demon possessed people like you.

You never believed that anything could change, especially not because of Ray. Ray had found your house on a hike up the mountain and stumbled upon you chained up in the woods after a full moon. He tried to help you but your parents chased him off, your father shooting his shotgun at him and screaming about ‘demons sent to help fellow demons’ before he hosed you off and took you inside. You always spent the day after a change with your mother patching up your quickly healing wounds and reading from the Bible you had read 60,000 times in your life.

Ray came back to check on you every few weeks, he would bring you food to hide away and some books to read that weren’t the Bible. He told you that you were not a demon but we’re in fact a werewolf, a gene passed down from your real parents (probably a father) and though he tried to convince you to come with him, you knew your father would track you down and hurt him and his ‘pack’ as he called it.

Ray had left you last time with the promise of bringing you more food, it turns out he brought quite a bit more than that.

You heard his voice before you saw him, as well as another voice with him as they approached.

‘I told you I’ll do what you want but we get the kid first, that’s the deal if you want my pack.’ Ray snapped and a weird accented man responded.

‘I’m not taking care of a kid Ray, you didn’t say kid-‘

‘She ain’t a kid but she’s…you’ll see. Now shut up before her father hears us-‘

‘Everything can hear you stomping like that Ray.’ You stated, picking up the last few pieces of firewood you had chopped and putting them into the wheelbarrow.

‘Shit kid, I’m sorry…your face-‘

‘I know. I’m the one in pain, trust me, I know it’s there. He got my ribs real good this time too.’ You looked up to see Ray standing beside another 2 men, one had fluffy brown hair and looked like he didn’t give a shit about anything and the other was staring at you. He had blond hair and bright blue eyes, prettiest shade you’ve ever seen and he wasn’t shy about how he was looking you over.

‘Hurry up and grab your stuff kid, we’re busting you outta here.’ You rolled your eyes, lifting the wheelbarrow and walking it towards your house.

‘You’re delusional. My father will shoot you all and chain you up right beside me, next thing you know he’ll be beating the demons out of you too.’

‘How many times do I have to tell you, you’re a werewolf, not a demon-‘

‘Look, I believe you Ray…sorta, but he won’t. He will see that you’re like me and he’ll either kill you or hurt you. Take your friends and go before they get hurt too.’ You began piling the wood up on the back porch where it needed to go and Ray grabbed your shoulders, stopping you.

‘Please Y/n, please come with me? He’s going to kill you one of these days and I can’t stand to see that happen-‘

‘Then stop coming here Ray! You’re risking your life for a girl you don’t know who is never getting out of here! I don’t know anything besides this, I’m an idiot, I don’t even know how the light up box works!’ He tried hard to hide his smile at that, knowing what you meant.

‘Once again, it’s called a cellphone, and I will teach you-‘

‘You don’t know what a phone is? Seriously Klaus, this is a waste of our time.’ The brunette stated to his friend and you felt tears welling up in your eyes, knowing he’s right.

Klaus’ POV

‘Shut up Stefan, Ray is right.’

‘He is-‘

‘I am?’

‘Yes, he is. This girl needs our help, and after all, I am on the search for werewolves. It was Y/n, yes?’ The girl nodded, clearly wary of me and I couldn’t blame her. Living up here off the grid with nothing but your seemingly abusive adoptive parents must be a new form of torture and werewolf or not, I couldn’t let this beautiful girl continue to suffer…I also had some ideas about a few fun things I could teach her. ‘Okay Y/n, why don’t you get your things you want to keep and you can come with us? Don’t worry about your father, he won’t hurt you-‘

‘He’ll hurt you! Don’t you get it?! He will shoot you Klaus, why would you risk getting hurt for me?’ I stepped forward, tucking this girls long hair behind her ears and making her look at me.

‘Number one I can’t really die, and while I can get hurt it won’t last, number two, because I want to. You don’t deserve this kind of pain, I know what it’s like and you need my help so I’m going to help you.’ She stared at me momentarily as if I had put the stars in the sky before her eyes hardened again. ‘Come on, I’ll come with you.’ I took her arm in mine and walked up to the door beside her. ‘Invite me in gorgeous.’

‘What…you can come in?’ She was clearly confused and it was actually kind of adorable as I walked into the house beside her and into her bedroom which was just off the back door. The amount of crosses that hung on the walls was dizzying, pictures of Bible scenes and Jesus on the walls…this girl is going to need some serious therapy. ‘What do I pack?’ I looked down to see her holding a backpack and sighing. She’s never gone anywhere in her life, of course she doesn’t know what to pack.

‘Here, I’ll put clothes in here. You grab anything else you want to keep.’ I shoved clothes into the bag and noted how desperately I needed to get her appropriate clothing and not ‘Jesus’ clothing. When I stood she put a few books into the bag and a picture of herself with a dog but nothing else.

Just as we were about to walk out we were cut off by a gunshot and I pulled her behind me as we ran outside, she gasped at seeing her father aiming a shotgun at Stefan and Ray. ‘Y/n! How dare you allow this thing into our home! You whore!’ My body tensed up as I felt her hands clutch into the back of my shirt. This girl was innocent and terrified much like I was, she has been kept from experiencing the world and knowing anything besides this Hell and I won’t allow it any longer. Besides, she will be a very fun person to have along the ride, I’ll have to teach her everything but on the plus side, I’ll get to teach her everything.

‘If you call her that again I’ll shove that gun down your throat.’ I growled and he turned his gun on me.

‘No! You could hurt Y/n-‘

‘Our whore of a daughter made her choice when she opened her legs for this demon! You’re like her, aren’t you? Cursed?!’

‘Not anymore. My curse was lifted, I’m just a werewolf now…well I’m also a vampire but that’s beside the point. You’ve crippled your child keeping her here like this, beat her, chained her and you don’t care one little bit, do you?’

‘That thing is not my daughter! It never was! It is a beast from the circles of Hell!’ I dropped her bag, taking a step forward when her hand grabbed my arm and stopped me from moving any further. I turned to look at her and held her face to make sure she paid attention to me.

‘It’s alright love, I promise. You will never be hurt again, you are mine now. Understand?’ She shook her head “no” and I should have known she wouldn’t get that. ‘I take care of you now, you stay with me. I’ll teach you everything and you won’t leave me, promise me.’ She looked shocked but nodded her head, smiling excitedly and hugging me tightly with her head resting on my chest. It was actually adorable how short she was…sexy as well.

She suddenly gasped in pain as she was yanked away from me, her ‘father’ clutching her wrist too tightly. ‘You will die today, demon! And then I will punish my demon child for whoring herself out to the Devil!’ As he raised the shotgun again I grabbed it, bending it in half and watching his eyes widen before pulling him to me by his collar.

‘Interesting choice of words. She hasn’t even begun to whore herself out for me, but you can be sure she will. I should thank you for that I think, she doesn’t know anything about the world and she will be quite easily moldable…I’m not going to thank you of course, you’re an insane child abuser but at least in your last moments you can know that she will be everything you didn’t want her to be. Interesting how things work out that way, isn’t it?’ He tried to fight to his credit but it was much to easy to pull his heart from his chest. I dropped his body to the ground and heard his wife screaming bloody murder but I tuned that out as I looked to Y/n who was staring at his body before looking up at me, excitement in her eyes which I loved instantly. I turned and snapped the women’s neck quickly, irritated with the screaming before turning back to Y/n who grabbed a rag that was on the porch and began cleaning the blood off of my hand like it was her job. ‘Thank you, Kitten, you’re just too sweet.’ I pulled her to my side and turned to walk back over to Stefan and Ray.

‘Why are we taking her? She’s just going to be a distra-‘ I reached out, grabbing ahold of Stefan’s throat before growling down at him.

‘You don’t need to worry about her again. Y/n is none of your concern Stefan. Shut it.’ He nodded and I released him before turning to Ray. ‘Now to you, where are the wolves?’ I asked him and he sighed, pulling out his map as I handed Stefan the duffel bag and turned to lift Y/n onto my back, not wanting her to have to hike up the mountain. As Ray showed us where we were and where the wolves were I could feel Y/n playing with my hair which made me smile.

As soon as he gave up the location of the pack I snapped his neck, Stefan being left to carry his body up the mountain with us. It wasn’t a long hike from Y/n’s home and we got to the clearing in about half an hour, changing all of the wolves before sitting and waiting for them all to wake up which would take a bit of time, about an hour if Ray suddenly waking was any gauge of time. As he woke though his eyes began to bleed and he suddenly lunged forward at Y/n who screamed and clutched to me tightly. Stefan tried to grab him but only ended up with a werewolf bite on his arm before Ray was gone.

‘Well, you best go get him.’ I told him and he glared making Y/n whine.

‘Aren’t you gonna heal me?’ I shook my head.

‘Once you come back with Ray? Yes, and I would hurry. That looks bad.’ I stated before Stefan ran off after the hybrid, leaving Y/n and I alone.

‘I don’t like him.’ She spoke up and I snorted.

‘He doesn’t like you either so I would say you’re a good judge of character.’ I joked making her smile.

‘I like you though.’

‘Well, everyone is allowed one mistake.’ Her eyes widened and she shoved me playfully, leaning into my side. ‘It’s gonna be a while before they wake up, why don’t you come sit on my lap and snuggle with me?’ I proposed and she looked up at me, tilting her head.

‘What’s snuggle?’ My eyes widened before I sighed.

‘It means let me hold you. You’re mine now, I’m allowed to hold you all I want.’ Y/n nodded her head, clearly thinking as she moved to sit on my lap and lay her head into my neck.

‘What does being yours mean?’

‘Hmm, that’s a good question Kitten.’ She blushed a dark shade, clearly enjoying her nickname. ‘It means that only I can touch you, no other man should be too close or putting their hands on you. It means that it’s my job to take care of you and make you feel good in every way I can, to protect you and ensure you’re happy…does that make sense?’ I wondered, knowing those concepts should be things she understands at least and she nodded her head.

‘Are you mine?’ I took pause at that, considering that question. It’s been a long time since I’ve considered only having one women in my life, and I know if I say “yes” she’s not going to want me to be with any other women, she seems the jealous type which was actually a very cute thought. As I considered this I began to realize how attached to her I’ve become already and I suddenly knew I couldn’t let her go.

‘Yes I am, Kitten. I’m all yours, no one else’s. But that means that you can’t leave me, okay? We belong to each other, that means I take care of and protect you and you take care of me, in every way I need.’ She nodded her head, before looking nervous.

‘Can…can you tell me what I’m supposed to do?’ She asked nervously and she was the sweetest thing I had ever seen. Her innocence is precious and she makes it too easy to take advantage of it, but I actually find myself not wanting to hurt her, just have her be mine.

‘Oh Kitten, of course I can! I will always help you baby, do you want to start now?’ I offered and she nodded, excitedly with a smile on her face. ‘Okay, can you turn and straddle my lap for me?’ She turned herself and threw her leg over my lap, gasping as I pulled her close and pressed her cunt against my hard cock through our clothes. ‘Good girl. Now just relax, and let me play with you. Can you do that?’ She looked confused but nodded her head anyway. ‘That’s a good girl.’ I leaned back against the tree behind me and pulled her down to press our lips together gently, letting her get used to the feeling as I molded my lips to hers before pulling her back and reaching up, my thumb pulling her chin down to open her mouth before pressing inside, my thumb brushing up her tongue. She looked unsure but soon closed her lips around it, sucking on my thumb like a pacifier…a thought that hardened my cock even more to an almost painful extent. I rolled my hips up into hers and groaned, feeling the heat of her cunt through her pants and wanting to be buried inside of her so badly. I pulled my thumb back, opening her mouth again. ‘Stick your tongue out, Kitten.’ I demanded and she did as she was told instantly. ‘Such a good girl, I need this mouth on my cock baby, can you do that for me?’ She nodded quickly before pulling her tongue back into her mouth and speaking.

‘What’s a cock?’ My eyes widened in shock at just how ignorant she is, but of course she is.

‘Okay…you’re a girl and you have a pretty little pussy right here in your panties, right?’ I unbuttoned her jeans and cupped her pussy in my hand through her cotton panties and she gasped, the new feeling being overwhelming I’m sure. ‘Well I have a cock, and my cock wants more than anything to be buried inside your tight little pussy so that I can make you feel good, but I need you to help me first.’ I took hold of her thighs and lifted her, helping her to her knees right between my legs and she rested her head on my thigh, looking up at me with such an innocent look on her face that I almost felt guilty for corrupting her…almost. I unbuttoned my pants, pulling them and my boxer briefs down just enough that my cock escaped and slapped against my stomach. She stared at it in shock and curiosity, reaching her hand out and sliding her finger up my shaft which sent a chill up my spine. ‘Fuck! Okay Kitten, open those pretty lips for me and stick that tongue out-‘ I grabbed ahold of her jaw firmly and made sure she was looking up at me. ‘Absolutely no teeth, understand?’ She nodded and I leaned down, licking over her tongue and kissing her roughly. ‘God you’re so perfect, do you know that?’ She whined before leaning down and licking her tongue straight up my cock before suckling on the head, she was so good at it that in any other situation I would have been convinced she had been doing this for years. ‘My good girl, so fucking good!’ I pushed her head down slightly and she got the message, taking more of me into her mouth and bobbing her head up and down.

I don’t know if this is the best blowjob I’ve ever had or if the situation is just turning me on so much that it’s ethereal but it feels as if she is sucking my soul out through my cock. If this is how good she is for me in only a few hours, I can’t imagine what kind of whore I can turn this girl into if I just make her feel good and needed.

‘Fuck! Shit, I’m gonna cum…I’m gonna give you a tasty little treat, okay? Are you ready?’ I asked, grunting as I felt that perfect tongue push me over the edge and just as she whined an affirmation I held the back of her head and came hard, straight onto her tongue. I tossed my head back, feeling myself cum more than I ever had before and she swallowed before using her hand to catch what leaked out the corner of her mouth. I had yet to have sex since becoming a full hybrid…maybe the werewolf in me makes me cum more than before…the image of how full I could fill my Kittens cunt was the driving force of my cock hardening all over again so quickly.

‘I like it, tastes yummy.’ Y/n spoke, licking her hand clean and before I knew it I had moved, snatching her up into my arms and pinning her down to the ground underneath me. ‘Klaus?’

‘Daddy…call me Daddy. Can you do that for me, Kitten?’ She smiled up at me, nodding her head before wrapping her arms around my neck and kissing me sweetly. I quickly reached down, pulling her jeans and panties off of her legs which caused her to whimper. ‘What’s wrong?’ She looked around quickly and I turned her eyes back to me. ‘It’s okay Kitten, talk to me.’

‘What if someone wakes up, or Stefan comes back?’ She worried and I just smiled.

‘Don’t worry Y/n, you’re Daddy’s now, and Daddy will never let anyone see your pretty little pussy but me, and if they do I’ll remove their eyes.’ I teased and she giggled as I nipped at her neck gently. Lifting her thighs up around my waist I groaned as my cock touched her pussy. ‘This is gonna be uncomfortable for a second, but I promise Daddy’s gonna make you feel so good that you’ll never want me to stop touching you.’

‘I trust you.’ She mumbled, nervous but allowing me to do as I wanted.

I considered that for a moment. If anyone else told me that they trust me I would call them crazy, it would be a horrible decision, but not her. I want her to trust me…in that moment I realized how much I needed her to love me. Y/n is mine now and there is nothing that will ever be permitted to take her away from me. ‘Good. Daddy will take care of you, just breathe until the discomfort is gone.’ I instructed and pushed my cock into her. She hissed as my eyes rolled back into my head, this girls pussy possibly being the tightest I’ve ever experienced if not just in hundreds of years considering it had been centuries since I had fucked a virgin, but virgin or not she is tight as fuck.

‘Daddy, Ow! Oh! It stings!’ I leaned down, pressing my lips to hers to distract her as I stayed still, allowing her to get used to the feeling before pulling back out. She squealed as I thrust back into her which I loved, setting a steady pace until her face relaxed and I could see that she was now truly enjoying herself. As she did I lifted her legs around my waist and fucked her tight little cunt the way I desperately needed to.

‘Such a good girl letting Daddy fuck you like this, so tight! Perfect little Kitten cunt!’ She whined as I spoke and I looked down to see her with watery eyes and her mouth hanging open.

‘Perfect, Daddy?’

‘Fucking Perfect!’ I confirmed, feeling her pussy squeeze me tighter. The need to be even deeper inside of her was overwhelming and I grabbed her waist, lifting her against my chest and pinning her to the tree beside us, now thrusting up into her even harder. She gasped, wincing and I could see she was in pain but she didn’t object, not once leaving me to ease up just a little bit before feeling my balls tighten and digging my face into her neck, biting into her throat as I came inside of her. Once again the amount of cum that I filled her with was fantastic and as her pussy squeezed down on me I knew that she was enjoying herself as well. ‘Do you like that Kitten? You love being full of me, don’t you?’ She nodded quickly, arms tight around my neck as she held on like she was afraid I would disappear. ‘Don’t worry, Daddy’s gonna fill you with cum everyday from now on.’ I told her, licking over the bloody bite mark on her neck.

‘Really? We can do this again?’

‘Are you kidding? You’re mine now Kitten, remember? Daddy is gonna fuck you everyday, multiple times a day, every which way you can imagine.’ I explained, pulling my cock out of her and looking around briefly before setting her down on a sleeping bag, using tissues to clean us both up.

‘How many ways are there?’ She questioned, excitedly before it was followed by a yawn making me smile.

‘Daddy’s gonna fuck you everywhere we go. In the hotel, in the car while Stefan drives, against every surface I can find!’ I watched as my cum dripped out of her hole, loving the sight of her being so full of me before cleaning her off and pulling her panties and pants back up her legs. ‘You’re a flexible little baby too, aren’t you Kitten?’ I teased, latching her bra before kissing her head, enjoying the topless sight in front of me. ‘That means I can bend you any way I want to stick my cock in you, Daddy’s never gonna stop fucking you, in every hole I can.’ I wrapped my arms around her from behind as she looked for her shirt, kissing behind her ear and hearing her gasp. ‘Do you want to make Daddy feel extra good and let me put my cock in your little asshole?’ I was teasing her, expecting her to be unsure and nervous about my playing with her ass, however she shocked me completely as she turned and pressed her lips to mine hard.

‘Yes Daddy!’ -Kiss- ‘Want your cock!’ -Kiss- ‘All the time Daddy! Anywhere you want, wanna make you happy!’ My eyes widened and I looked down at her in shock.

‘You want to let Daddy stick his cock up your ass?’

‘Will that make you feel good, Daddy?’ She asked as if it was the most important thing in the world to her and I suddenly realized how much of a complete fucking cum slut I’m going to turn my girl into.

‘Yes Kitten, and Daddy will make you feel good too, Daddy wants you full of my cum all day every day forever, I want my cum leaking out of both holes every time we go out, there won’t be a single chance people don’t know that you’re mine.’

‘Okay Daddy.’ I turned her around, pressing my lips to hers and lifting her up against my chest.

‘I think you’re gonna be the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time Kitten.’ As soon as this pack is turned I’m turning her as well and ensuring that I can keep my little mate around for eternity, she’s too delicious not to. I’m going to teach her whatever I want and have the sluttiest girl on earth for the rest of my endless existence.

‘Daddy?!’ Y/n pulled back quickly and I could see the terror in her eyes, shocking me at how quickly she turned.

‘What is it Kitten? Did I scare you? You don’t have to-‘

‘Daddy! Are They Supposed To Look Like That?!’ I turned around and just barely moved before one of the wolves bit into my Kittens shoulder. His eyes were bleeding black blood and he looked like some kind of zombie.

‘No…stay right here, Don’t Move! Do you hear me?!’

‘Yes!’ She responded as I set her on the fallen tree and turned to the 2 Hybrids that were now awake, examining them carefully before one tried to sink his teeth into me and I quickly ripped his heart out. I was trying to figure out what happened when 2 more were suddenly up and pissed off, leading to me tearing their hearts out as well, moving on as the rest of them quickly began jumping up and screeching or growling and trying to bite at me. I had just killed the last one when I suddenly heard Y/n scream and I spun around to see her backing away from a girl who lunged at her. She turned to the trees and I grabbed the women, ripping her heart out before moving to grab Y/n and holding her arm. ‘No! Daddy-Help!’

‘It’s me! It’s okay baby, you’re okay.’ She gasped, breathing a sigh of relief and hugging me tightly, crying into my chest. ‘Daddy will keep you safe, I promise. You’re okay.’

‘Are you?’ I hesitated as she asked and realized I wasn’t. ‘Daddy? Are you okay?’ I nodded before she pulled away and turned to the campsite to see the 15 dead wolves.

‘After all of this, I finally break the curse and I still can’t make more hybrids…FUCK!’ I screamed, knowing my hybrid visage was on display as my anger was running way too high.

‘It’s gonna be okay, we can find out what went wrong and fix it, right?’ Y/n held onto my arm, unafraid of me like everyone else would have been and it was a bit shocking. ‘You waited this long, you’ll make it work! I know it, and I’ll help you!’ I sat down against the tree and sighed heavily, knowing in that moment that as long as Y/n is here, I won’t be alone again…I just need to figure out how to turn her before she’s gone too.

‘Thank you Kitten, you’re Daddy’s good girl.’

Just as I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to figure out what went wrong, Y/n kneeled on the ground in front of me and leaned against me, kissing my jaw. ‘Can I make Daddy feel good again? Maybe it’ll help?’

This girl may just be the death of me. ‘Yes Little Wolf, I think that will help very much…’

Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist

[jariten]

2024 Year roundup! (Part 1)

As usual I won't write up anything for titles already featured in a monthly roundup unless I've read more volumes since then.

じゃあ、あんたが作ってみろよ (Jaa, Anta ga Tsukuttemiro yo), Natsuko Taniguchi

あかり (Akari), Marco Kohinata

A子さんの恋人 (A-ko san no Koibito), Akino Kondoh

平家物語夜異聞 (Heike Monogatari Yoru-kun no Hanashi), Fuyuko Kurosaki

多聞くん今どっち!? (Tamon’s B-Side), Yuki Shiwasu [Trans. Amanda Haley]

三文小説集 (Sanmon Shousetsushuu), Tamaki Segawa

ボールアンドチェイン (Ball and Chain), Minami Q-ta

ひらやすみ (Hirayasumi), Keigo Shinzo [Trans. Jan Mitsuko Cash]

In my quest to find high school romcoms to fill the gap Kieta Hatsukoi left I followed my fascination with fictional idols. Concepts like Uta no Prince-sama and Idolmaster is interesting in how they produce idols and an alternative form of idol otaku culture, but what about fiction that aim to be relatable but also wish fulfillment to those who are deep into stan culture, or its Japanese equivalent: Oshi-culture (Oshi more or less being the Japanese equivalent of a Bias). Tamon's B-side begins when our heroine Utage, who has a near religious love for her bias: the wild and fanservice-y Tamon of F/ace, not only forms a direct and personal relation to him, she not only learns that his private self is a self-hating, gloomy, near suicidal at all times young man who despite his massive popularity believes himself to be nothing more than a mold spore infecting the earth. Utage is determined to make the people's prince gain confidence and stop wanting to leave this mortal coil at any given time. The series manages to capture the fearsome consumerist machine that fans participate in, the elaborate social codex they operate under, but also captures the conflicting nature of romantic fantasies involving your bias. Because in oshi culture your oshi belongs to no one but the fans as a collective. And whats a religious zealot to do when her deity gets attached to her. All while being a really fun comedy that plays on exaggerated slapstick and emotional extremes. Really hoping the anime adaption brings some fun music to go along with the series bc the official stan twitter accounts are already so fun.

I need to paraphrase a short review I saw for Sanmon Shousetsushuu: "I thought the lady novelist was pretty nasty but the guy is a piece of work himself". Imagine watching your father die a really horrible death, but the way he died is so ridiculous your trauma is never taken seriously. Our protagonist has been a laughing stock his whole life because of his failed comedian father whose life ends with a failed stunt in an aquarium shark tank. But one night he hooks up with a woman who rather than laugh at his story cries. She disappears in the night and years later he finds out she has made a whole career off of his life story. This begins a twisted love/hate affair between the eccentric novelist and a "wild dog". Love nasty adult romances where neither party needs each other for anything but still can't leave each other alone I think there's something beautiful in that. The included one-shot while a bit saccharine with its conclusion I also found pretty satisfying in its portrayal of twisted attachments.

And want to report that Ball and Chain (first chapter has been scanlated!!) as well as Hirayasumi are not losing steam after the great first volumes for each series. Can't wait to read more in 2025!!

[eye-may]

Plato? 🧍

Plato! the gentle giant! the cat who embodies the archetypal 'no thoughts behind those eyes' <3

[he's a himbo]

✨Personality

this might be a strange way to start with characterizing him, but I imagine that Plato is one of those types of people whose amygdala are just...evidently small. he's simply a lackadaisical, easygoing (some might say lazy...lookin at Jenny and Skimble), and vaguely hedonistic chap. Difficult to rile, slow to anger, almost immune to fear and panic...etc.

he's a well-intentioned Jellicle, but sometimes he's passive and persuadable, even to a fault. he doesn't seem to have impassioned opinions about anything in particular...and you know what they say about not standing for something!

Despite being among the tallest and strongest members of the tribe, you're more likely to find him dozing off or goofing around with the kittens than you are to find him pulling his weight, or accomplishing feats of dexterity for which felines are known. Alonzo, his unofficial mentor, is trying to instill some gusto into him, and perhaps a concept of reverence while he's at it...but you can't make a tabby change his stripes.

Despite being good-natured at his core, Plato is about as cerebral as he is industrious...that is to say, not very. he's prone to forgetting about commitments, making avoidable mistakes, zoning out, and sometimes saying unintentionally insensitive things. you need to be perceiving keenly in order to have an appropriate filter, after all. he's definitely not "stupid"...just seemingly off in his own world more often than not.

He worships Tugger (like many do) and hangs out often with Tumblebrutus and Pouncival. his relationship with Victoria errs on the side of indistinct...but it has potential lol.

✨Backstory

The exact details of his backstory are a little nebulous in my mind atm, but for now I'm going with the idea that he was born into a different colony overseen by a...rather passionate zealot. Baby Plato was not as enamored by this leader's demagoguery as his cohorts all seemed to be, but he did rather take to the leader's flashy younger brother. there was just something about him that had Plato locked in; perhaps there was no rational explanation (there often isn't with kittens!) but he found himself wanting to emulate that handsome, charismatic pinnacle of felinity.

Not long after Plato came around, however, his hero seemed to disappear from the tribe...and when Plato attempted to ask after his whereabouts, his inquiries were strictly shirked. With his idol gone, Plato found himself simply not caring to pledge allegiance to this colony. the environment was too militant, the expectations too demanding, the entire community just...unpleasant and unfun.

as a result, Plato began leaving to roam the streets of London in search of reprieve. his flightiness was deeply frowned upon, leading his companions to seemingly take up the task of ostracizing him into conformity...but Plato was nonplussed. He kept leaving with increasing frequency until, one day, by chance, he found the Junkyard, populated generously with cats who were...singing, and dancing, and...having fun...?

with no concept of propriety and no social anxiety to speak of, Plato immediately attempted to ingratiate himself into this group. the culture shock was almost egregious, but these strange cats didn't turn him away. at first, the wandering kitten would intermittently leave to rejoin his colony, instinctively gravitating back towards the place that he had initially known as "home." But, one day, when he came back to the Junkyard, he saw a familiar face that he had resigned himself to never seeing again.

It was the colony leader's younger brother! his hero! it turned out that he had left Plato's colony to come here, to the Junkyard, to embody the oaths and enjoy the promises of Jellicle Cats. Plato thought that if his idol could do that...so, certainly, could he!

so, yes, needless to clarify/tl;dr...Plato was born into Macavity's syndicate, and developed an idol worship of Macavity's then-second-in-command, Tugger. Tugger left (along with Demeter and Bombalurina), and Plato coincidentally found him at the Junkyard later. That discovery sealed the deal for Plato; he simply never went back to his original colony. Since he was only a young kitten when he extricated himself from his inherited circumstance, he didn't have much of a concept of the gravitas of Macavity's moral bankruptcy on the onset. he ended up gleaning a lot of information about the depravity of the Hidden Paw via secondhand sources. and yet, still, he doesn't seem to be as emotionally affected by the legends and alleged ferocity as everyone else is...

[remus-in-docs]

just to ramble for a second as a buddy apologist, his death is hitting me in a way i didn't expect. as a queer agnostic from the south who grew up surrounded by religion, i have a lot of complicated relationships with real world buddies. brennan has so beautifully captured a very specific type of christian zealot that i am prone towards sympathizing with. bc if i hated every hyper religious person i came across i wouldn't be left with a lot of people. my extended family would shrink down to nothing. so i learned to compartmentalize the often micro aggressive things they're saying for my own sanity. i have to believe that they are just ignorant or brainwashed or misinformed or whatever or accept picking fights with everyone i meet. this is easiest when they're like buddy: dumb and sweet. so i put my faith in hoping that they are good but have been misled. i hold onto the hope that i could fix them by being kind to them. i know it's not likely, but we've already seen it happen with kristen in season one. i convince myself that i can fix the south by just living in it as myself and that these people will learn to truly love their neighbors by watching me do it. and then for buddy to be killed by his adventuring party, who already killed the cleric before him, is so jarring. bc even if buddy is "one of the good ones", he never got saved. so all that's left is the harm that he's done even if he did it with good intentions. buddy is dead and bobby's plan lives on and the south is still the south no matter how much southern charm i try to throw back at bigots in an attempt to gain their respect

[sprintingowl]

How To Have Good Combat In Games Where The Combat Is Bad

I've been running 5e for about 50 sessions now. It does have some good points (like most big rpgs it encourages you to make a detailed character and dig into the fun of developing them,) but it also has bad combat.

Bad combat doesn't always mean a bad game, and what makes combat bad can differ from game to game. A lot of indie systems have bad combat because combat isn't their priority.

This isn't the case with 5e.

I'll go briefly into the reasons:

---It is common in 5e to spend a turn trying to do things, do nothing, and then end your turn

---The winning strategy in 5e, unless the GM specifically prevents it, is to do as much damage as possible as fast as possible

---Unique boss mechanics in 5e (Lair Actions, Legendary Resistances, save-or-suck effects) designed to counter the above issues instead amplify the problem

Other combat focused rpgs generally don't have these problems, but this doesn't mean that 5e (and low-combat indie games) are a lost cause.

You can still have good combat in games where the combat is bad, you just need to follow these principles:

---Ask Players To Make Choices (give them meaningful decisions. these don't have to be devil's bargains or involve rolls. do they rush to free the prisoners or chase after the zealots? do they stand in the center of a telegraphed AoE to achieve their objective now or do they wait until it's safer?)

---Give The Players Good Information (choices feel more random the less information the players have. skeleton ants will march from left to right across the arena, powering up the boss if they touch him. standing on blue tiles will switch the boss to arctic mode. hinting is fine, but you want the players to understand how a fight works so that they can interact with it)

---Crib Shamelessly From Videogames (without human-to-human roleplaying to compensate for the weaknesses in their design, non-ttrpg games that center combat need to make that combat at least interesting---and ideally good. MMOs telegraph attacks and turn fights into dances. SRPGs give rewards for focusing on side objectives. JRPGs start by saying "your attack hits" and give you a lot of different attack types to choose between)

If you're GMing in a system that doesn't have a lot of rules for combat, you can largely forget the third point, but never forget the first two.

You're breaching the house. Are you doing so safe or fast?

You're trying to subdue the werewolf. Do you care if he gets hurt? Are you willing to use things (poisons, a silver whip, tranquilizers) that might be traumatic for him?

Someone swings a club at you. Which bodypart do you use to shield the blow?

Any game can have fun combat if you work at it.

Of course, the question that follows is "should you?"

But I'm 50 sessions deep into a 5e campaign, so I can't answer that.

[recklessfiction]

Keep an Eye Out As You Travel West

You see a church, you just keep on walking. Most are abandoned anyhow, nothing left in 'em but the hollowed out husks of their priests. The rest have been filled by now; old pretenders, zealots, and self proclaimed prophets snatching up any man fool enough to worship. And that's if you're lucky. There are older things, other things that have curled up amidst the altars of the Lord like worms in dirt. If you're wanting to do any worshiping, best do it out under the sky.

There're things that roam the dust, figures of men with eyes deader than any corpse and smiles as bright and pretty as a lady's. They come around sometimes, always trying to pawn off some bizarre thing; elaborate crowns made of rusted nails, gold lockets with strange portraits inside, letters that can't be read without getting a deep pounding in your head, and keys rusted with so much blood it'd be a wonder if they turned anything at all. Now, I've seen what comes for folks who trade with them and I'll tell you this. Wherever they got their goods, it sure as shit wasn't from here.

You'll be hearing now about the "Oil Baptisms," I'm sure. Black sea water dredged up from some abyss, thicker than any water I've ever seen and you can smell it long a mile away. They say it gives people "the sight" but of what I can't say. All I know is that once you start smelling that briny shit on the wind, the screaming don't start long after.

Be careful what deals you make out here. There're plenty of strange folk who would be more than glad to work you down to the bone and long after, too. Work is work, crops need harvesting, graves need digging, meat needs carving, and idols need worshiping. Watch your words and read your contracts, else you might just be stuck washing the feet of the righteous until doomsday.

Best stay indoors once night comes, that's when a lot of the "families" start movin' out. They take to the roads, long lines of them, a parade of the ugliest sons of bitches you've ever seen. In the daylight, their skin never fits quite right and stinks to high heaven but once the sun dips past the trees, they start taking it off. They move from place to place, sloughing off their decayed flesh and stealing new off any traveler they come across. Lock your doors and put out your lights before they coming knocking on your door, asking sweetly, "Do you have anything I could wear?"

I am of the opinion that the woods ought not be traversed by folk who ain't been called there. Keep to the roads and towns, there's enough foul mess there if it's strangeness you're looking for. But what's in the woods has always been in the woods and if you pass the treeline with no business being there, well. The woods will give you business.

While a useful tool, a gun won't save you from drowning in the bathtub of a family of fanatic prognosticators, or from having your skin torn clean off by the night sky. Keep your ears up for any kind of protection you can get and learn to speak well because a lot of smart talk can get you out of a whole mess of trouble.

Keep on moving, friend. If you're looking to survive this trek, don't stop for anything, not even to bury the dead or feed the starving. It ain't worth what'll catch you, cause there's always things waiting for a fella to slow down so's they can get their claws in faster, deeper. You wanna be stuck here, in the fields and the dirt, under the big sky while hymns are burned into your skull? No?

Then keep on moving.

[getvalentined]

I understand people giving Lucrecia the benefit of the doubt with regard to what she did to Vincent, just like I understand people not realizing how undeniably fucked up Gast was, but the important thing to keep in mind about these characters is that the majority of them are written as being in the throes of some pretty extreme cognitive dissonance.

It's not bad writing, it's that they're hypocrites. They reached a moral event horizon at some point, and they did what they felt they had to do when crossing it.

Gast abandoned a child because he wasn't what he wanted—even having raised Sephiroth up until that point and knowing that he was a pretty normal kid overall, as we can see from his behavior as a young teen in Ever Crisis, Gast still couldn't bear to continue to be responsible for a monster. He knew what Hojo was capable of, because he knew about what happened to Vincent, because it happened in his lab, and he left a literal child in his care anyway. Sephiroth's only crime was not being what Gast thought he was, and Gast damned him to a lifetime of torture under a "father" whose only goal was to use him to prove his own genius. Why? Because Gast had a goal, and the goal was what mattered, the ends justified any means he could devise. He was a man obsessed, driven to the verge of madness in his lust for the Promised Land. A religious zealot with the most powerful scientific team in the world at his disposal, ready to prove him right—and then he wasn't right, and the whole world fell apart underneath him. Ifalna gave him back that stability, because she was a real Ancient, and she gave him a new, better child to care for. A child that wasn't a monster, a child that was his, a child that might one day lead him to the Promised Land, if her mother didn't do so first. When Aerith was born, Gast got to be right again, and therefore all was right with the world. Sephiroth (like Genesis before him) may as well have never existed at all.

Lucrecia openly experimented on a man who loved her enough to die for her, going so far as to apparently use data from those experiments to improve her own academic standing, because she couldn't bear the guilt of being responsible for his death. It wasn't about whether it was the right thing to do, it wasn't about whether she loved him back, it wasn't even about her thesis at that point—she just couldn't continue to live having lost everything as a result of her own impatience, her own lack of regard for everyone around her. She killed her mentor through her own impatience, she gave up her son for experimentation, she didn't stop her husband from experimenting on her ex-lover, and she had nothing to show for it but crippling Jenova toxicosis and an equally crippling cowl of regret.

I could even go into Hojo here, how what he did to Sephiroth was a result of struggling to escape Gast's shadow, how what he did to Vincent was a result of him struggling to prove that he deserved his wife, how everything he did was born from the all-consuming need to do just one thing for which no one else could take credit. Hojo got the director position not because he earned it, but because Gast ran away. Hojo got Lucrecia not because he wooed her, but because he didn't have eyes like the unrequited first love that she killed. Hell, Project S only happened because Project G failed! Nothing Hojo has ever had that was worth anything was because of his work, only because the work of others failed. Why do you think he talks about "failures" the way he does? The failure of others is the only reason he's gotten so far, and he knows that any failure of his own will knock him right off that pedestal—and he's terrified.

None of these people are good people. I don't know that any of them ever were. But in their eyes, everything they did was justified, they took the right course of action, because they took the only course of action that their personal understanding of reality would allow them to take.

Were any of them actually right? Probably not. Certainly not, in some cases. But there's no going back on it now. The arrow has left the bow of the goddess, and there's no calling it back.

[dawnsdragon]

Summary:

“𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓲𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓸𝓼𝓽 𝓽𝔀𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓼𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓪𝓵𝓵.”

Genre: Hurt, very little comfort; Weirdly sweet in a way; They love each other in this I swear!; Some fluff in the end Rating: Mature (?) CW: Allusion to death; no actual death; Allusion to suicide; no actual suicide; idk what else but please let me know; Forgot to add, but brief blink-and-you’ll-miss-it spoiler for Caleb Tender Moments Skyline Characters: Caleb, MC Wordcount: 520 Relationships: Caleb X (Fem!)MC AN: So this is still a drabble and I am so sorry that it took so long to write. I started student teaching and I've been drowning （；´д｀）ゞ

“You promised me. You promised me you would always be by my side, in this life and in the next. So come with me. Caleb, come with me.”

And that was the problem with love. 

It wasn’t a fickle thing. It was temporary, fleeting, and time had a way from keeping it withstanding. Love was painful instances, memories filled by tragedy and yearning with brief moments of burning reprieve. There was no peace, no autonomy. It didn’t motivate anybody. It wasn’t freeing. It held no joy. Love was oppressive, demanding, a soul crushing force that drowned all those hypnotized by its allure within its illusionary falsehood. 

And that was the problem with people. 

They weren’t morally pure beings. They were vile, disgusting, and circumstances had a way of drawing out self-righteous zealots. People were foolish dreamers, idealists fueled by fairy tales and myths with promises of utopic happily-ever-afters. There were no heroes, no saints. They weren't seeking unity. They weren't repaying kindness with kindness. People were vindictive, greedy, monsters who treated everyone as an end to a means despite their spurious smiles. 

And that was the problem with them.

MC and Caleb had broken their strings. The two of them, dolls, puppets, had found serenity in one another. A pair who were dependent, always reaching out for the other, and not once noticing the sinister entity seeking to shatter their sanctuary. He had paradise, Eden. And her adoration illuminated the darkness. She cradled jubilation. MC was eternal. And yet, the two were dissected, questioned, seen as obsessive and it was only a matter of when one of them would drown the other with their possessiveness. 

But, as Caleb sat quietly by MC’s side, he could only wonder if the problem was actually with time.

It was an endless cycle. Life. Death. Life. And death once again. There wasn’t any way of stopping it. It was pointless to fight against it. Poets wrote about it. Scientists experimented with it. But no one found a way to murder it. Caleb had seen the horrors of it and MC had lived through its ceaseless endings. It never showed empathy. There couldn’t be bias.  Time sought to maintain its perennial rotation, suffocating all those who did not follow along with it.

And maybe that was why Caleb couldn’t survive this.

Love.

People. 

Them.

Time.

All of it was seeking to destroy. Two fools were given the short end of the stick and Caleb could only stare at the ashen face of the women who would gladly allow their demolition. Because that was the problem with love. It made you idiotic. But that was also the problem with people. They were stupid enough to believe in it. And that was the problem with them. Caleb and MC would never get to experience it. Because the problem with time was how short it is.

“Caleb?”

Yes, all of these things lead to their destruction. There wasn’t a point in trying to stop it. 

Reaching out, Caleb brought what little was left of MC to him.

 “Of course Pip-squeak, but maybe not as seagulls okay?”

AN #2: this totally disregards some lore about MC and the Aether core. Also idk when or where this would take place but I really wanted to write about the complex relation these two shared.

[germiyahu]

One of the funnier things about Jesus is that he's often described as a "radical" and my classics professor literally said "it doesn't make sense for the Romans to execute him if he wasn't covertly calling for an overthrow of the government." I've spent most of my adult life hearing that Jesus was preaching zany dangerous world-upending ideas and he was just too badass and ~actually leftist the whole time~ to be left alive.

However, he was preaching "pray for your enemies, even if they persecute you," "if a Roman strikes you, turn your cheek and offer the other," "if a Roman soldier forces you to carry his equipment, offer to carry it an extra mile," "do not pray in public like those hypocritical Pharisees, pray in private God likes that better," "who are you to judge the Romans' specks in their eyes, you're actually worse if you think about it," "guys Caesar is the legitimate government of the Empire I think you should show the proper respect just pay your taxes," "hey I know I'm being executed but like let's take a moment to consider that the Roman soldiers feel bad about it, forgive them they know not what they do."

This is bootlicking shitlib cuckery if I've ever seen it. Jesus' philosophy for how Judea and its culture was going to survive Hellenization/Romanization was... "Be polite. Don't cause a scene. Keep your head down. Why be a rabble-rouser and make trouble for the rest of us? You're giving us a bad name. Romans are people too!"

He had some cool ideas like "sex workers deserve dignity," but I don't think he's actually the "role model," and "actually really wise Rabbi," that a lot of non Jews try to tell Jews he is (aka, how they should view him even if they don't think he's the son of God). And to be fair, a lot of his ideas were already held by other Pharisees/early Rabbis. Certainly Maimonides et al. would go on to independently come to some similar conclusions re: forgiveness and whatnot.

But Jesus was not a radical. Most scholars agree he was a member of the Hillel school of the Pharisee "political party." He was definitely not a Zealot. The Romans didn't execute him because he was calling for an overthrow of the government. They executed him because he was becoming too popular, and people were calling him Moshiach, which was an implicit threat to Roman supremacy. But Jesus himself was not telling people to firebomb their local valmartus.

I suspect if Jesus had been alive to see the Bar Kochba revolt, he would've "strongly condemned the violent actions of the rebels," even if he "sympathized with their pain." He was actively preaching, if not assimilationism, then meek submission. Martyrdom. If you suffer in silent dignity then your just reward will come. And I'm not claiming he was a race traitor or anything, this was an individual man's response to the ongoing trauma of his homeland being subjugated and exploited. These were his ideas about what to do about it.

But in essence, Jesus was the original Good Jew, and the Romans still murdered him. He spent all of his time as a public figure arguing that they should be accepted and loved and that their oppression of the Jews should be tolerated, and that one day the Romans would simply lose interest in being colonizers and the Jews would be free by being patient and understanding and not rocking the boat too much. And the Romans killed him anyway. Being a Good Jew will never save you.

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

Jesus | Light In The Darkness | Platonic

Surprised by a summer storm, Jesus and His followers find shelter in what they think to be an abandoned cave, where they come face to face with you and your little sister.

Requested by Pia

John nudges his older brother, nodding towards the horizon with a familiar feeling growing in the pit of his gut. Dark clouds are steadily packing above them — “A summer storm,” Big James establishes as he looks up, a sigh leaving his lips, “And we are headed right towards it.” Such weather is never welcome, no matter how dry the lands of Judea are. Lightning in an open field like this can be dangerous and even lethal, the brothers have learnt from their time on open water.

The younger son of Zebedee slows in his step so that he can walk up to Jesus, Who is speaking to Simon Peter. “Rabbi,” he cuts the conversation short, “Forgive me for disturbing You, but… There is a storm coming our way, and we aren’t exactly near any village for shelter…” 

Jesus hums, narrowing His eyes at the clouds as if it is the first time He sees the sky grow dark with them, a few droplets of rain already falling from the heavens. “I see. What do you suggest we’d do, John?” 

“I think we should look for shelter somewhere,” he instantly says, “Look for some kind of…” He searches around, noticing a few rock formations off the beaten path that turn into full-on mountains the further away he looks, “Maybe a cave!” 

Halting in His step, Jesus brings the group to a standstill as everyone gathers around Him with practised ease, a set of motions often repeated whenever their Master stops in the middle of the road, sensing a lesson or task coming up. “As you can see,” Jesus begins, “The sky is turning grey and heavy with rainclouds. If we head to the right here, we could find ourselves a cave to keep warm or at least dry. Now everyone, break up into pairs to try and find a place to stay for the night. I suggest that in twenty minutes, we will meet back here, so that nobody gets lost.”

The followers form duos and head towards the rock formation. James joins his brother, who is still with Jesus. “Rabbi,” he protests, “Twenty minutes is too long. Storms like these are dangerous and can be even deadly, since we are outside in plain fields with hardly a tree in sight, making us the highest point—” 

“—Is any of you taller than these mountains?” Jesus asks calmly, smiling gently at the sons of Thunder. 

They look at one another for a moment before sheepishly shrugging, knowing that He is correct in that. “The worst that could happen is that we’d become a bit wet. Lucky for us, clothes dry overtime.” Jesus winks. 

Per the Messiah’s request, they all set out to search. In the distance, thunder rolls ominously closer. Every so often, a flash of lightning illuminates the sky, the expanse of heaven dangerously purple, grey and indigo. It doesn’t take long for it to be chucked down from above, leaving everyone soaked to the bone in no time. Hoods do little to keep hair and faces safe, making it so that within minutes, everyone is shivering from the cold. Treading through shallow puddles of mud, the group finds difficulty in keeping their eyes peeled for a decent hiding place to settle for the night. 

Right when most pairs are ready to turn back to the meeting point, a voice rings out. “There!” echoes through the hills. Little James has found a small cave nearly hidden from view, only visible upon leaning against a rock for some support. Thaddeus smiles at him, complimenting him for his discovery. 

“Nice find!” 

Upon entering, the cave appears to be quite warm, if not a little cramped. The darkness is only broken occasionally by flashes of lightning from outside. In spite of its size, everyone fits inside, Simon the Zealot taking the spot next to the entrance to keep an eye on possible passersby. If they position their bedrolls right, Matthew mentally calculates, everyone could properly lay down although there wouldn’t be a lot of space left to walk around. 

Nathanael and Philip kneel in the middle of the small room, trying to set a bunch of twigs on fire to create a source of light. The sparks fly off the kindling, a handful of dry grass easily lit, but the two men have trouble getting the damp branches to catch fire. 

Suddenly, a bone-chilling wail is heard from deep within the cave. At the sudden noise, Nathanael drops the lit kindling onto the cold, stone floor, causing the flames to extinguish almost instantly. A few sarcastic tuts of annoyance are directed his way - “Nice job, Nathanael,” — but the crying grows closer. A few hold their breath, cloaked in darkness and creeped out by the situation. “What are we going to do?” Thomas wonders, asking Jesus for guidance, “Could it be a bear? Or someone who is demon-possessed?” 

“Marcia, wait!” A sudden, unfamiliar voice bounces off the walls. The crying becomes louder the more it approaches, “I know you are scared, but running away will only make it worse!” Heavily accented, obviously Roman. 

A sudden flame dances against the cave walls, followed by a shadow in the distance, starting as a tiny speck and becoming more prominent. Light footsteps near the group. 

“Rabbi, we should go—” 

“—Easy, Simon. These aren’t the footsteps of someone dangerous.”

The crying is now right in front of them. Nathanael manages to light up another handful of straw with much effort, holding it out in front of him. A tear-stained face belonging to a toddler no older than three is revealed to the group, causing a murmur of shock to go through it. 

The flame rounds the corner — a torch carried by a person, it becomes clear now — and a face is illuminated by it. “Marcia—” 

Your voice hitches as you halt at the sight of a dozen-and-some soaked strangers standing in the opening of the cave you currently called your home. “Who are you?” your voice sounds meek and tiny, “Marcia, come here.” Your little sister doesn’t need to be told twice now that she is confronted by a whole horde of unfamiliar people over the sound of thunder, quickly taking cover behind your leg, crawling under your skirt before she buries her face against your thigh.

“We are travellers looking for shelter against this immense storm.” One of them speaks up from the darkness, stepping closer so that His face is lit up by your torch. He has a warm glimmer in His eyes. “However, we have been soaked through by the rain, and so has our firewood. Do you happen to have some spare wood for us?” 

You warily look at them. “You haven’t told me Who You are. Why would I give my valuable supplies to mere strangers? Besides, you are Jews. Shouldn’t we be hating each other?” 

“Where are My manners?” The Man curtsies a bit. “My Name is Jesus. The people with me are My students.” 

“Are You a teacher?” 

Jesus hums, “You could put it that way, yes.” 

“A teacher for Jews, then.” You scoop Marcia into your arms and she instantly fists into your dress, her tiny fingers holding you with near impossible force. 

“I am a Teacher for many people. Not all my followers are Jewish, like Tamar here.” He gestures at a woman, who gives you an awkward wave. Your gaze flickers through the few faces you can see suspiciously, all exhausted and with no dry thread on their bodies. “So, we would be so appreciative if you could lend us some kindling so that we can at least get warm and dry for as far as we can, we—” 

“Come with me,” you say before you can rethink your decision, making your way further back into the cave. Jesus follows together with His students, making sure that everyone can traverse through the darkness safely. 

There is a surprisingly spacious chamber where two fires are lit — one standing near what seems to be a makeshift bed, as well as a larger fire with an empty pot next to it, likely to cook food — and a few belongings are scattered through the place. “There is only room for a few people here,” you have to admit, “But I have some spare firewood so you can build one in the previous chamber.” You gesture towards a small pile — not your entire stock, but you can’t give away everything. Gathering a new load of branches and twigs and getting them to dry would be a difficult task in and of itself.

The followers of Jesus can observe you closer now that you are standing in a fully lit room. Mary feels her heart tighten inside her chest as she gives Tamar a worried look, which is promptly mirrored. Left to her own devices since somewhere in her teens, the woman from Magdala is no stranger to what it means to be alone from a young age. Judging by the softness of your features, you are in your late teens to early twenties at best, and the little girl you had called Marcia is your sister rather than your daughter, causing that pit in her stomach to grow heavier as she realises that you are most likely orphans.

“What is your name?” she asks as she watches you get Marcia warm and comfortable next to the fire, the least you can do to make up for the sudden presence of a dozen strangers in her safe place, “And what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at home?” she adds whilst the others settle down next to either of the fires. Thomas, Philip and Nathanael gather the wood you had gestured at, heading for the other chamber of the cave.

“I’m (Y/n),” you tell her, “And… We don’t have a home. This is our home, right Marcia?” You dotingly rub at her reddened, chubby cheek as she gives you a pouty look. You don’t blame her for her big questioning eyes. Had you been her age, you’d have been afraid, too. “We are… Or were… From Jotapata. Our pater used to have a job in the military, but he never returned from duty one day. Our mater couldn’t handle the heartbreak and died not long after.” 

“For how long have you been living here?” A man with curls asks, his voice kind and worried. 

“I’ve lost count of the days, but judging by the seasons, I think we’ve been living here for about half a year now. It was winter when we cremated our mother.” You play with Marcia’s hair as she snuggles into your side, hiding away from the curious eyes looking upon her. 

“Jotapata doesn’t have an orphanage?” another Disciple asks. You grimace and sigh.

“Jotapata isn’t exactly… Kind to us Romans. Not that I blame them for it. I wouldn’t like us either.” 

A gentle, peaceful silence has settled in the room in spite of the chamber being cramped and stuffy with the smell of wet tunics. Everyone has taken a seat save for those still building a fire in the other room. You feel more at ease now. Jesus takes a seat across from you, the closest that anyone else is sitting from you right now. Cross-legged, the Rabbi smiles at you. 

“I am glad we found you and your sister, then.” He gently gazes at the toddler and winks at her, causing her to shyly hide inside the crook of your armpit. You kiss the crown of her head and smile softly. “We brought enough supplies to give you two some food.” Your eyes widen, for you had pushed away the emptiness of your stomach so that Marcia could go to bed with her belly full. The fact that the bread you had fed her had been mouldy was something both of you had learnt to accept.

“Oh, that’s… Really nice of you to do.”

“Consider it payment for letting us use your private space and firewood.” 

Jesus takes a big, red apple out of His backpack and hands it to your sister, before handing you one, too. None of the people in the room seem to mind the fact that you start wolfing it down with ravenous hunger through large bites. “So, (Y/n),” Jesus begins after you’ve consumed more than half the fruit, barely leaving the core intact at how eagerly you are eating it, “You said that you don’t hold it against the Jews of Jotapata that they do not take kindly to you as Romans. Why’s that?” 

You shrug and pry a small apple seed from Marcia’s fingers as she holds it towards you with a disgusted look on her face, flicking it somewhere into the cave. As soon as the seed is gone from her sight, the toddler happily resumes munching on the sweet fruit. “I mean, us Romans barged into Judea and took over. Had I been commanded to pay taxes to an occupying force, I would not have been happy about it, either.” 

“I don’t think a lot of Romans share that sentiment,” one of the followers tells you.

“Be that as it may, Simon, she is still young and they threw her out of her home. I don’t think that background would have to matter to know that it is wrong to do.” 

“You’ve got a good point there, John.” Jesus says, smiling at His students before looking back at you. “So, now that we have established that our cultural background shouldn’t have to matter, I think that you would fare way better if you were to join us on our travels.” 

You shift in your position. “Join You? But… I don’t know anything about You. You are a Teacher, but what do You teach exactly?” 

“I preach about the Kingdom of God. About repentance, forgiveness from sin and a new life and identity that only I can give you.” 

“The Kingdom of God?” you wonder, “Which one? There are so many…” 

“With the Romans? Yes. But these are false deities who have nothing for you. The Roman gods are conditional gods, who require many sacrifices as well as rituals to even consider mercy. No, my Father is not like that. My yoke is soft, and My burden is light. Through Me, you will live.” 

“I’ve never been a very religious person,” you confess. 

“I know,” Jesus says, “You could never identify with it. It never touched your heart. But I will. I have many friends who can teach you all they know, and I am sure that they would be keen to help you out on your journey so that you can catch up to them.” He gestures at the people around Him, and they all nod in agreement, smiling kindly at you.

You smile, a bit abashed as you give a small shake of your head. “Even though that sounds awfully nice, Teacher, and even though I must admit that this makes me feel something that I’ve never experienced before, I… I have a young sister who can’t travel far. I can’t abandon her.” 

“We have people in Capernaum,” the man referred to as Simon says to you, “My wife Eden would love to look after you for a while until we’ve gotten you a place for yourself.” 

“I… That’s too much kindness.” You swallow the sudden lump in your throat, for this is more than you have ever received from anyone ever in your life, let alone from complete strangers. “I… I can’t take it.” 

“But you must.” Mary smiles softly at you, “This cave is only a temporary solution to your problems. Trust me when I say that following Jesus is the best decision one can make, ever.” 

You look at your sister, who is tiredly munching on a half-eaten apple for it is too large for her to finish, a fond smile spreading over your lips as you rub some (h/c) locks from her eyes. Her head is mushed against your arm as her eyes slowly blink shut, indicating that she’s exhausted, far beyond her usual bedtime.

You have nothing to lose, and everything to gain. Not only for yourself, but also for her. Especially for her. 

So, with that in mind, a soft smile plays over your lips. 

“Alright,” you say softly. “Why not?” 

“So, let Me ask you again,” Jesus says, leaning a little closer. “Will you follow Me?” 

You open your mouth to positively reply, but Marcia does it for you. “Yes!” she chips, a large grin over her face, which is sticky with the nectar from the apple. It causes laughter to erupt in the chamber, which eggs your sister on to clap her hands together happily. “Yes, yes, yes!” 

Chuckling, you look at her, gently stroking her cheek. 

“I couldn’t have said it better myself.” 

[see-arcane]

The most screwed up thing about this particular "sexual liberation via undead serial killer" cliche is that in this case main female character literally dies in the process of such "liberation". Which remake now clearly tries to frame not as her own heroic actions of bravery and kindness and unselfishness, but as her fullfilling some of her deathwish and dark desires for vampire and whatever and as something which is now good for her (!), hey look people she's actually happy now. Barf.

The hell of it is that, on the one hand, this kind of framework really can work well in the horror genre. All the most alarming and/or deplorable themes of a narrative are welcome under that umbrella. Horror needs no moral, no happy ending, no healthy relationships. I see all that and it delights me. If I were to take some fragments of Eggers' interview answers at face value, I could really get behind the concept of these characters as he's painting them.

A leading lady who even as she Knows what she's doing is Wrong, throws herself at it anyway.

I could get behind the Conqueror Undone by Fixation.

The Plotting Zealot who Sacrifices Others for the Greater Good.

Even the Sole Innocent Standing/Technical Final Girl being the grieving husband who wanted to protect a loved one even when he knew she did not want him, arriving too late to see she'd chosen mutual destruction with her problematic undead crush rather than staying to live as the good wife she knew she could never be.

On the surface? This is all really good classic gothic fucked up shit. I might even do cartwheels if this was an original film in the veins of The Witch or The Lighthouse, both of which are A+ depictions of corruption arcs steeped in the supernatural. This is Bobby Egg's jam!

The poison comes in when, once again, we see just whose names and plot Eggers has stapled onto these figures. It really is a Dracula adaptation in all but title, because he's following in the exact same bullshit footsteps as his predecessors. These characters are not his. For as closely cloned as they are from Bram Stoker's cast and story, Orlok, Ellen, Thomas and the rest are F.W. Murnau's creations, born in his original Nosferatu.

Werner Herzog could recognize that (even if he got weird about the Dracula cast renaming for ??reasons??) and kept the foundation of the story and characters intact even as he built on top of them. Herzog didn't hollow out the cast and stuff his OCs into their skins to play out his fanficified 2 goth 4 U versions of them. The Count's tragedy buried in his compulsions, the proactive nature and power of the female lead, the miserable tragic result of her husband's unchecked contamination leading to the blow of oh god, we did everything right and the nightmare will continue anyway...that's all from potential that Murnau left in his film and Herzog ran with it.

Eggers' version of Nosferatu is, by contrast, shaping up to be a more elaborate version of Francis' wet dream, just without all the fancy costumes and reincarnation BS. No, it's not Count Chadracula Gary Oldman, but Orlok is still the Dark and Powerful Other Man who the Girl One reeeally wants due to her Secret Gothdark Nature and Long Distance Horniness which meek and mincing little Jonathan Thomas simply cannot satisfy..!

Like. Bobby. You know how to make an original story. You do. This, here, is clearly your story. It has Black Phillip's hoof prints all over it. It has the Lighthouse's cosmic toxic radiance. Every hint and line and trailer so far is painting it all in your very recognizable colors. And I would be so ready to love it like I have your others.

If only I didn't know you had to wring the neck of one of my other favorite stories to empty out its carcass and graft the hide on to your 'reinvention' that is in every way just a goth-grimier cousin to Coppola's take. Fittingly, it's not unlike what Murnau did to Stoker's work. 'I want to do that too, but slightly to the left.' Well, you're doing it. One hundred percent.

And it makes me so deeply, sadly disappointed.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Deity: Heironeous, The Vindicator

Let our hands never falter, sparing evil the sword Let our hearts never waiver, letting weakness take root Let our march never end, lest the task be left undone

Champions, zealots, fools. All these words describe the followers of Heironeous; patron god of those blinded by duty and self righteousness. From the guards who rough up vagrants for the sake of social order, to the patriotic songs sung by soldiers on the way to invade a land they've never seen, to the teacher who’s convinced they can instruct through pain, because sparing the rod really does spoil the child.

It is a terrifying thing after all to be in the wrong, to have no easy answers, to be filled with doubt, and so the Archpaladin and his clergy intercede to provide the fearful populace with direction, with easy answers, and with scapegoats when necessary.

Adventure Hooks:

The party are asked by some troubled parents to look in on the local chapterhouse of the Invincible Vanguard, who took over for the town's royal garrison some years ago. A number of youths, bored of life in their sleepy little town decided to sign up with the Vanguard a few months past and have not been seen since. The Heironeian are cagey to say the least, but through their investigation the party might stumble across the same awful secret the kids did during their initiation, as well as their ultimate fate.

A beast rampages through the countryside, sowing fear, destruction, and rumour wherever it goes. Defeating it is no easy task, but one of the local lords is willing to pay a high price should the party bring him its head as proof. Imagine their surprise when a few days later a group of Heironeian paladins are paraded through the street carrying THEIR trophy aloft, claiming all the credit and with that same lord backing their claims. It seems the party has been part of a cruel PR stunt, however will they make this right?

A series of inexplicable mishaps and borderline disasters that plague a frontier village have come to a head with one of the Vindicator's itinerant preachers convinces the locals that devilry is the source of their woes, pointing the blacksmith's tiefling apprentice. It's up to the party to prevent the kid from getting strung up, and make the villagers see reason before there's an out and out witchhunt on their hands.

Setup: From the outside, with the perspective of history, it’s easy enough to see that there’s something wrong with faith of Heironeous, how their temples and icons venerate violence, whether it be martial glory or the suffering of martyrs that needed to be avenged. How their liturgy teaches the faithful that sympathy to outsiders, questions to authority, even the smallest of doubts are weaknesses to be overcome.

But the Heironeans are the ones fighting off the monsters encroaching on your village when the baron won’t pay for garrisons or adventurers, and it’s their priests who come to hand out food to the hungry and say there’s work the town over building their new fortress, and it’s their inquisitors who stand in the market square telling the crowd that all the awful things that happened these past few years is the fault of sinful, faithless rulers, and if only they could be led by righteous men (and it is always men) and expel the social parasites then truly this realm could be one beloved by the gods. 

That’s the grift, the Heironeans seize on a crisis or a fear and offer to put your life on a better track, nevermind that it’s a permanent war footing where you and your family and neighbours are conscripted to roles based on how you’d be most useful, and disagreement amounts to insubordination.

Heironeans say they’re justified of course because evil is always out there, the one true evil, Hextor, the grotesque, six armed lord of bloodshed and suffering who wishes to make slaves or corpses of all the world and the heavens besides. He is jealous of Heironeous you see, his twin brother, who is propheciesed to be the only one who can defeat him. Hextor never rests, always spawning more evil in the world, and anyone could be his follower without even knowing it... all they’d need to do is work to subvert the will of the archpaladin and they’d be abetting the scourge.  You don’t want to be an agent of evil do you? Then tithe to the church, enlist in the vanguard, obey your betters, marry early and within your kind and have more children to carry on the fight when you are too week, raise them up right, kneel when you are told, submit. Do all these things and the Vindicator will know you are good, and worth fighting for, and will forgive your mortal failings. 

There is a deeper lore, behind even what the faithful or even most of their leaders know:  that Heironeous and Hextor are the same being. Sometimes it is the monster wearing the golden hero like a mask, sometimes it is the bright and radiant warrior casting a most wicked shadow, sometimes it is simply that the god of war and slaughter has two faces, fair and foul, both righteous, both tyrannical, both hungering for blood.

The cult of Hextor is a secret order within the faith, membership offered only to those chosen by their god or those that see the worship of the archpaladin for what it really is: Violence for the sake of power, power for the sake of violence. They are secretive, deflecting rumours of their existence onto puppets and figureheads that they manipulate, going so far as to create false-cults to the Scourge to draw the faithful’s attention and ire. Any fault in the church can be blamed on Hextorian infiltration, any opponent that challenges them is but an agent of the Scourge.

  Titles:  The invincible, the vindicator, the archpaladin / the scourge, the herald of hells

Signs:  Oddly serene visions of violence and pain, wounds or blood on the image or relics of martyrs or weapons of champions, prophetic nightmares about the victory of Hextor.

Symbols:  A white hand or clapsed around a silver lightning bolt/ a black gauntlet clutched around six red arrows

Inspiration: Cruelty cloaked in the guise of righteousness is not an original concept but after writing  about how d&d has weird habit of using a frankly childlike view of morality in order to justify its violence  the same way that IRL hategroups do, I wanted to play around with the concept. 

Likewise, I felt my campaigns needed a solid “badguy with the aesthetic of goodguy” villain and I was tired of using overzealous followers of the dawnfather or bahamut to fill out the roster.  Specifically, rather than bad people in service to an ostensibly good god (who are objectively real in the setting and thus would try to oust the bad apples), I wanted to create an evil god that used the trappings of goodness to dupe average people into doing bad, the same way that has happened over and over again historically in our own world.

 I ended up choosing Heironeous for this villain makeover because like a lot of other default d&d deities I find the base form of him painfully one note, he’s the paladin god of paladins and he has hero IN HIS NAME. That said, he has a twin brother Hextor, god of war and tyrants that serves as his dark mirror and there’s thematic meat in that... Merging the two into one god gives us this delicious setup where the theology of Heironeous creates the problem and sells the solution, benefiting no matter who wins in the supposed cosmic power struggle.

Art