#ITS JUST SHEDDING BLOOD FOR NO GOOD REASON ITS FIGHTING OTHER MEN TAKING THE SAME ORDERS AS YOU BUT JUST FROM A DIFFERENT MAN | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gohyuck · 3 years

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pairing: head knight!jeno x monarch!reader (reader has genitals attributed to those considered biologically female but no pronouns are actually used)

genre: fluff, mild angst (they discuss an oncoming battle they must prepare for), smut (it’s mostly smut)

word count: 6.5k

warnings & notes (nonsexual): mentions of war/battle, mentions of injuries retained from past skirmishes, jeno is as tall as you need him to be in order to rest your head against his chest without leaning down, it’s kind of cheesy tbh they are disgustingly head-over-heels in love with each other, also a peryton is a fantasy creature that’s essentially a stag + a bird, also i know y’all must be tired of royalty aus but i swear this is almost pwp (except there’s context so there’s plot) so give it a chance (if you’re legal) i guess

warnings & notes (sexual): oral (giving and receiving for both parties), fingering (reader receives), spit kink (lmao sorry), general messiness honestly, mild knife kink (no blood drawn, he just uses a dagger to tear apart clothing), gratuitous usage of the name ‘lionheart’, jeno has a big dick because i cannot stop myself from doing that to y’all for some reason, some choking

special thanks to @moonlit-jeno @domjaehyun @waithyuck for reading parts of it/all of it beforehand!

the soft hours of twilight have their holds on you, chilling you to your bones even as you pull the heavy fur cape tighter around your body. you should’ve pulled something over your thin nightgown, you suppose, something to act as a middle layer between silk and skin and peryton fur, but it’s too late for that. you’re already out on your private balcony, overlooking a kingdom you’d do anything to see the sun rise on day after day.

far, far past the outskirts of your humble realm, barely visible to your own eye, an unsettlingly large camp of soldiers is finishing setting up camp for the night. you watch as tiny, tiny orange pinpricks - no doubt the fires they’d set to make food, to alert you of their presence - begin to get snuffed out. finally, they sleep.

if you were any worse of a person, of a ruler, you would send your army after them now, hours before the battle is set. perhaps, if you were any less selfish, you would do so regardless of keeping your status as a good and just monarch. if you were any less selfish, you would shake awake the love of your life and hand him his cape after shedding it from your shoulders. you would tell him to rouse his men and women, to arm them to their teeth, and to fight for what is right using means that are entirely wrong.

as if privy to your thoughts, your head knight stirs in the too-large bed behind you. you turn just in time to see him sit up and twist his body left, right, left as he stretches to rid himself of sleep. it’s too late - or maybe too early - for either of you to be awake. maybe you should have stayed within his warm embrace rather than gotten out of bed to size up the army of the kingdom of crithage.

even now, you can’t help but strategize, at least on a basic level. crithagians are unused to the cold of your beautiful - but often frigid - ekoria. they won’t expect your people to fall upon them from the icy cliffs that surround their camp, nor will they be able to see over the oncoming blizzard your royal sky-reader has predicted. she has not been incorrect in many, many years. ekorians have, over the years, grown accustomed to heavy snows, among other weather phenomenon, so your army’s visual acuity is not to be questioned.

that, and your troops are in the hands of the best warrior ekoria has ever had.

jeno. your jeno. your lionheart. you rein your thoughts in just as he pulls open the balcony door, closing it behind him with a soft click as he steps over the threshold separating in from out and warm from cold. goosebumps rise across his bare flesh the moment his skin meets air, and you don’t hesitate to slide his cape off and thrust it towards him, knowing full well that his arms will provide more than enough heat for you. he fastens it with ease, seeming slightly amused at how you’d been using it as a blanket, and gently grabs ahold of your wrist before pulling you into his chest and wrapping an arm around your waist. with his other hand, he takes a corner of his cape and wraps it around you, leaving you enveloped in both his hot-to-touch skin and the comforting fur.

“they’re out in the valley, aren’t they?” he finally murmurs, leaning to place his mouth against your ear. jeno’s voice is thick and sleep-ridden, still raspy in a way that settles around you, inside you, within you. you lean back slightly, raising a cold hand to rest against the tattoo of a lion that adorns his left pectoral, mane stretching up to his collarbone and encroaching on his bicep. the lion has a scar on its right cheek. you pull away more, eyes landing on the thin discolored line underneath your lover’s same eye.

it had been a longsword, meant to slash across your throat. jeno, with the speed of a star falling from grace and enough adrenaline to fuel a hundred men, had leapt across you in order to take it across the face. for crown and for country, bard’s songs later regaled of him. for you, he’d whispered to you that same night as you’d stitched him up, using the threading tactics you’d learned from the castle medic as a child. for you. always for you.

“my love?” jeno prods, and you realize you haven’t given his rhetorical question any acknowledgement. you hum, meeting his eyes with your own, and watch as he allows one corner of his mouth to turn up.

“they only just put out their fires.” you finally respond, moving to be against his chest again. you rest your head against the intricate ink against jeno’s skin, finally letting out a breath of what one might consider worry. the air that leaves your lungs manifests into wisps out in the cold world that surrounds you. your lionheart pulls you ever closer.

“you need not stress.” he says simply, and an outsider to your relationship would see no cohesion between your statement and his. still, you know precisely what jeno means, why he’s said what he’s said. you turn, pressing your lips against the lion’s forehead. above you, your own lion brushes his lips against your temple.

“i have an army, a kingdom, even, to worry about, and yet i only fear tomorrow for whatever outcome befalls one man.” you whisper, and even you are surprised to find tears catching in your throat. you do not cry easily, not when you know firsthand how cruel the world can be.

you only reign because your parents no longer breathe.

tomorrow’s battle could easily bleed into next year’s war, and while your kingdom is prepared for such a thing, your heart may not be. your people are not belligerent, and neither are you. crithage had been the one to throw the first stone, had sent word that if you refused to relinquish your throne and bow your head, they would aim the first arrow, draw the first blood. no tears had been shed then, not even when you’d paced around your bedchambers, reading and rereading the note signed with blood red ink until jeno had physically pulled it out of your tight grasp. you hadn’t cried, not even when he’d said that he was willing to die if it meant keeping crithage out of ekoria, out of the kingdom you’d both built from ground up after the war that had taken your parents, out of the home you’d created together.

“wherever you take us, i will follow. wherever you need me, i will lead.” he’d murmured the words against the lobe of your ear, standing beside and slightly behind your throne as you’d written out your reply to crithage in a room full of your advisors. nobody else had moved a muscle then, not even as you closed the envelope with hot wax and the royal seal.

you’d sent back a much, much shorter letter than their own in response.

a time and date for battle. nothing more and nothing less.

that had been so many months ago, so far away that the concept of time dissipates when you attempt to organize it in your harried mind. with a hostile army on your doorstep, everything suddenly feels far more real than it has before. your people have been evacuated, your troops have been trained. your lionheart is unafraid to the world, standing tall and proud at your side as he always has.

a sigh that starts from deep in jeno’s chest brings you back to the present. tomorrow is it, you’re reminded. crithage has seiged almost every other state between themselves and your beloved ekoria. if they get to you, they’ll have your head, raised high on a stake they’ll erect outside of the gates they’ll install to the place you call home. if they get to you, it means they’ll have gotten through jeno.

you can’t live in a world without him. it’s a dangerous attachment for a ruler to have, you’re well aware. if other kingdoms find out that your weakness is a person, one that lives and breathes, you’re not likely to ever see your love again.

it’s little comfort that jeno can’t live in a world without you, either.

“i worry about not being here, at the castle, to protect you,” he mumbles into your hair. “i know that you are perfectly capable, and that you’ll have your own faction of our knights with you, but i- it feels as if i’m about to open my chest and leave my naked heart unguarded, right there for any arrows to pierce.”

jeno’s confession is simple, beautiful in the way the most ornate of daggers are: that is, you feel as if he’s just dragged a sharp edge down the length of your sternum, taking you apart piece by piece. his words cage you in, force you deeper into your own head in a way you can’t afford, not right now.

“eloquent,” you hum, unable to resist teasing him even as the moment does not call for it. it’s to save yourself from your heavily beating heart. “it isn’t too late to make you my poet laureate, you know. no need to wield a sword tomorrow then.”

“and who would be your head knight then, hm? the current laureate? you want renjun to lead the charge against the crithagians? to be your lionheart?” your lover draws back to ensure that you can see his eyes, glimmering with mirth. renjun is an able man, and one of your best friends, but he is not the warrior jeno is.

nobody is the warrior that jeno is.

“such a foolish thing to say,” you smile up at him, lips folding from joking to earnest within moments. the merriment fades a little from jeno’s eyes at recognizing the change in your expressions. “you’re my only lionheart. always have been and always will be, even when you’re too old and gray and slow to be my head knight.”

“someone seems confident of that happening.” he says quietly, raising the hand at your waist to come up and rest over your own hand that lies against his chest. you swallow, your own spit feeling too heavy for you to stomach, your throat dry and scratchy.

“who else can have confidence of a victory rather than a monarch?” you ask, a smile that isn’t quite sad - but isn’t quite self-assured either - resting on your lips. jeno raises your hand to his lips, pressing one, two, three chaste kisses to the back and then repeating the pattern against your palm. he does not let go.

the two of you stand there for a stolen moment. you lay your head back against his chest, listening to the thundering of his heartbeat below the ink and skin and muscle and bone. he is real, and he is here.

he is real. he is here.

“the monarch’s lionheart, of course,” he murmurs, finally dropping your hand to reach back and push open the balcony door. “we only have four more strokes of time until i must go, my love. is this truly how you want to spend it?”

it’s evident that jeno no longer wants to mull over the what-ifs, not when he prefers living in the present more than anyone you’ve ever known. unsurprising, you suppose, for someone whose livelihood involves strategizing away his own mortality. you allow him to pull you back into your bedroom, immediately more comfortable when the door closes behind you, keeping you in with the body heat of your lover and the warmth of the crackling fire on the hearth in the corner of your room. jeno sheds the cape, draping it over the nearest chair, before bringing you back to his chest by placing his large hands against your waist.

it takes feeling his fingers against your skin through the thin silk of your slip to remember that jeno has nothing on. he’s always preferred to sleep naked, unlike you. though you hardly have any undergarments on, you at least wear a sheer gown most nights.

you’d ridden him passionately before bed, tiring both of you out in order to get any semblance of sleep. as your lionheart pulls you flush against him, though, it’s difficult to avoid the way his cock hardens against your hip once more. you want to quip about how jeno’s insatiable, but he trails a hand up, up over your body to swipe a thumb over one of your hardened nipples, and you can’t help the sigh that escapes through your prettily parted lips.

“will you get on the bed for me, love?” jeno’s voice is smoother now that he’s more awake, though you can’t help but miss the low growl that had come with the earlier rasp. he may be asking you a question, but you know that it’s an order in disguise. wordlessly, you step back, back, back until the wood of your bedframe presses against the soft plushness of the back of your thighs. jeno has not moved, choosing to stay put and appraise you instead. his eyes are hooded now, and as his gaze trails from your neck - he’d marked it up earlier, the kiss-bitten bruises not yet having faded from your skin - down to the curve of your chest, over the expanse of your thighs, he can’t help but reach one hand down to his dick, swiping two fingers over its head to collect his precum on his skin.

jeno says nothing else, makes no other move. it’s to give you an illusion of control, you suppose. not that you need one.

“should i rid myself of this, lionheart?” you ask, the words coming out breathier than intended. the nightgown leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, and you’re sure he can even see the slick wetness that’s pooling against your inner thighs. jeno adores seeing your body more than anything, but the gown does not inhibit that.

it’s no surprise, then, when he shakes his head no, instead finally moving to stand at the edge of the bed, slotting himself between your thighs as they naturally move apart to fit him in. his clean hand slides up under your gown, resting just above your cunt, as he raises his other hand to your face.

“lie back, and open.” jeno states, no air of leniency about him anymore. you oblige, and your love leans over you, his dark gaze centered on your parted lips.

he lays his two precum-coated fingertips against your tongue, pressing in and then down and revelling when you don’t gag but instead run your tongue over his fingers, cleaning them off for him. you haven’t gagged in a long time, your reflexes getting used to him in the way the rest of you is. when he withdraws his hand, your mouth stays open, and jeno can’t help himself as he leans over you and, after gathering it in his own mouth for a moment, allows his own spit to fall from his own tongue and onto yours.

your eyes go wide at the action, and you know that he notices it even as he does not acknowledge it. even so, you don’t miss the smirk that crosses his face upon hearing your breath hitch. jeno has you in his palm.

satisfied, he stands, and you close your mouth and swallow a part of him with a part of you. jeno’s no longer looking at your face, but you can’t bring yourself to care, not when he’s ruching up your nightgown with growing hunger, not when he’s kneeling on the stone ground just to make himself eye-level with your pretty, pretty pussy.

“i took you hardly any time ago,” he murmurs, breath hot against your skin as his mouth nears where you so desperately need him. “and yet here you are, laid open once more, all for me. only for me.”

“always you, jeno, please - ” you can’t get any more words out, the air being pulled out of you as he dives in and circles your clit with his tongue, bringing his two spit-soaked fingers up to press into you with almost no resistance. your reaction is instantaneous, walls clenching like a vice around his fingers as he lays a filthy kiss against your bundle of nerves, hips jumping up only to be kept down by jeno’s other hand, pressing down against the bottom of your stomach.

“patience.” he pulls off of your clit just to growl the word out against the skin of your inner thigh, and the wet heat of his mouth directly against your flesh has you practically gasping out. when jeno sinks his teeth into your thigh as he’s often wont to do, you let out a full-bodied whine, the kind that starts in the back of your throat and rises up through the inner column of your neck, meant only for your lover’s ears. jeno laves his tongue over the marks he’s just created, as if to wash the pleasurable pain from your body.

he does not reattach his mouth to your core, choosing instead to fall back and watch, eyes trained, as he scissors you open. with hardly any warning rather than his gaze jumping up to meet your own momentarily, jeno presses his thumb into your clit, using your slick wetness to eliminate any raw friction as he rubs slow circles against your nerve endings. he’s never failed to bring you to the edge with ease, and now is no different. you’d be embarrassed at how easily you fall apart just from his simple simultaneous motions, in and on you, but it’s jeno, and he knows your body maybe even better than he knows his own.

keening, a loud, gasping wail, falls from your lips only for jeno to rise from his place in between your thighs and swallow your sounds with his open mouth, his clean hand coming up to cage you in against your sheets. the way you raise your arms to loop them around his neck is akin to the way a drowning man would grab on to a lifeline, and once he rises you pull him back into a longer, filthier kiss, where your teeth click against his and his tongue opens up your mouth the same way it feels like his touch opens up your body.

you feel as if you’re being flayed, as if hellfire is the only thing comparable to the heat against your skin. jeno steps closer, just by the tiniest bit, and you feel his hand - the one shining with your arousal - brush past your hip before he uses it to wet his cock with one, two, three firm strokes. copious amounts of precum arise from the tip before being pulled down against his flesh with expert downstrokes. your mouth waters as you watch.

“my mouth, lionheart, please?” you finally gain the courage to ask what is on your mind, sitting up on your elbows as you begin to slowly find your strength. your love raises an eyebrow, and not without reason: jeno is a big man, making even you - a literal monarch - feel small at times, and this does not end with his personality or his person: you have never been able to take all of him into your mouth. the ache borders on painful, frankly, and jeno himself refuses to harm you in that way.

“this, now, is about you.” he responds, and your heart cracks as you register that as a ‘no’. still, you speak again. you need him in your mouth, suddenly. it isn’t just a want. something has to anchor you to the here and now, it may as well be the head of his cock, heavy against your tongue.

“what is about me is about you as well,” you respond, and before he can lay his refusal down out flat, you slide onto the floor - warmer than expected - and tuck your heels behind your bare ass. “i need this. please.”

you’re directly in front of him now, face parallel to his strong thighs. jeno strokes up, squeezes tighter just below his frenulum, and you watch, struck, as precum beads at the tip and then splits into two streams, half sliding down his hard dick and the other slowly-but-surely falling to the ground, hardly a quarter of a step from one of your knees.

“give me your hand, then,” your knight murmurs from above you, drawing your gaze from his leaking cock up past the dainty curve of his lip to his hard eyes. “now.”

when you raise your hand up, you only put it up limply, unsure of what he means to do with the limb he’s asked for. your eyes must be swimming with questions, because jeno gives you a hint of a sweet, reassuring smile before allowing his expression to become stoic again… right before he grasps your given hand and straightens it out, gentler than expected from such a great warrior but harsher than he truly ever treats you.

he’s passionate. this demonstrates it.

before you can react, your body following your hand up off of your heels, though only slightly, as he yanks up your hand, jeno leans down and licks up your hand, from the bottom of your palm to the top, all while maintaining eye contact with you. he lets go, though you keep your hand raised, your gaze obviously dumbfounded.

“a dry hand would rub me raw,” he explains, though the smirk that’s tugging at one corner of his mouth shows that he finds your wide-eyed expression at least mildly amusing. “we do not want that, do we?”

it’s amazing how easily he can get you under his thumb when you give out orders that hold his life in the balance on a day-to-day basis. maybe that’s why he finds taking charge in private so easy. maybe it’s his way of evening your dynamic out. even now, as he asks you an innocent question with no hidden meaning or reaction, you find yourself shaking your head along enthusiastically. no, of course you don’t want to rub him raw. of course you and him don’t want that.

you raise the hand now deemed ‘not dry’ up as jeno watches, finally, finally wrapping your hand around it. your thumb and middle finger do not meet, no matter how tight you squeeze. your lover lets out a fulfilled groan at finally feeling a touch other than his own on his hard cock, and it’s a beautiful sound. you want more of it. you want more of him.

as if mesmerized, you lean closer, darting out your tongue to lick experimentally at his slit. he holds his breath, a large hand coming to rest lightly against the back of your head and base of your skull, waiting. you take this as a sign to stretch your lips wider, engulfing the entire tip of his cock in your hot mouth. his grip tightens in your hair, and, in return, you clench around nothing.

as you struggle to take more of jeno in your mouth, you do your best to stroke the rest of his cock with a tight enough grip to make him feel everything, but not tight to the point where you’re hurting him. regardless of how little you can take on your tongue - not your fault, by any means - jeno seems happy, barely able to stop himself from bucking up into the back of your throat. at this point, you’re essentially just warming his cock, so you pull off with a slick pop to look at him with slightly watery eyes. a string of precum and saliva connects your bottom lip and his tip, and when it breaks, you’re acutely aware of the mixture dripping down your chin and onto your nightgown. it’s no matter.

jeno’s thumb runs over your scalp, just above the bottom of your skull. you close your eyes momentarily to take in a deep breath.

“you can force yourself down my throat, you know,” your voice is raspy when you speak, eyes fluttering open almost drearily. “i’m not too delicate for it.”

there’s something simultaneously raw and pure about the way you speak, and jeno recognizes that your headspace has changed, just a little. your need truly is all-encompassing now. he must tread more delicately than usual.

there’s so much love, so much adoration in your wide-eyed gaze. he only wishes to return it with the same intensity and double the care.

“i know, love,” jeno responds, finally moving his hand in order to place two fingers under your chin. he tilts your face up, taking note of the way your eyes run over his tattoo before looking at his chin, then his jaw, then his nose, then his forehead, until, finally, you land on his eyes. you’re a tad bit unfocused, full of need, but that’s okay. you’ll always come back to him. he continues speaking. “you’re so strong. always so strong for me. that’s why you deserve to be rewarded, yes?”

“rewarded?” you’re confused, to say the least, though you do not dislike the direction jeno is suddenly moving towards. he only smiles, gentle and kind and good and yours. all yours.

“on the bed, (name).” he tilts his own head, jutting his chin towards the bed you’d slid off of earlier. you don’t hesitate to follow, pushing yourself up onto your feet and all but scrambling backwards to be seated against the soft mattress. the blankets are all haphazard and the pillows aren’t straight, but that’s the least of your worries right now. jeno gives no other orders, only stepping closer and, without warning, winding his arms underneath your thighs and propelling you backwards, causing you to land, back flat, in the center of your bed.

it had always felt inescapably large when you’d slept in it alone. now, it feels welcoming. safe.

“you’re ready for me, yes?” the tone of voice jeno uses is soft, even as his rough palms push apart your thighs. you nod, murmuring a small ‘yes’ once you realize he’s waiting for you to verbalize your thoughts. this is all jeno needs to climb onto the bed and move in between your spread legs, settling back on his calves as his hands smooth over your hip bones and waist. it’s evident that he’s bent on taking his time with you tonight, likely under the illusion that that is what you want.

it is not what you want. it is most definitely not what you need.

“i need you within me, lionheart,” one of your hands clutches at the sheets beneath you while you stretch the other towards your lover, imploring. “soon. now. please.”

“absolutely impatient,” jeno only chuckles in return, drawing an indignant whine forth from the base of your throat. he looks over your barely covered body once more before finally - almost in slowed motions as if to tease you further - rising up onto his knees. his hands stop moving against your skin, finally circling around the soft meat of your upper thighs. swiftly and fluidly, jeno pulls your body towards his, wrapping your legs around his own waist. his wet cock lies heavy against your pelvis, leaving slick precum against the apex of your thighs and the bottom of your stomach. he smirks. “is this what you wanted?”

the motion of being pulled into your knight had forced the air from your lungs in a surprised yelp, and the feeling of his warm skin - he’s always supplied so much heat, it baffles you to no end - against your own momentarily blanks your mind. jeno repeats his question twice, cocky grin growing with each utterance, before you nod vigorously and sputter out something vaguely affirmative. yes. yes, this is exactly what you wanted, exactly what you want.

you’ve been growing steadily wetter the longer your foreplay had drawn out, but jeno, ever-caring, still pulls back - his cock sliding against your thigh has you moaning - to slip two thick fingers into you, adding a third when he’s absolutely sure that you can take it. in no time at all, you’re grinding your clit against his rough palm, the friction absolutely heavenly. jeno makes no move to stop you, only gently forcing his fingers in deeper.

a fourth finger is added just as your abused clit can’t take anymore, and you spasm on his hand as you fall past the point of no return. your second orgasm of the night washes over you, and you can’t help the muted but harried gasps you let out as your hips buck up, driving your head back into the mattress. jeno draws his fingers out slowly, licking your essence off of them with practiced ease. once your body has calmed down, you can only let out a small whimper, still basking in the intensity you’ve just experienced.

jeno knows your limit, and knows damn well that you haven’t reached it yet. it’s because of this that, even as your walls are still clenching around nothing due to aftershocks that wrack your body, he places the fat head of his cock against your hole and slowly but surely slides in. the hands on your thighs move up to wrap around the sides of your waist, and his grip is bruising as he pushes deeper and deeper. even as he goes at a snail’s pace, you feel as if you’re being pulled apart only to be pieced back together again. you hold your breath.

jeno is halfway in when he realizes you still aren’t quite wet enough. he shifts slightly, carefully moving one of your legs up just a little bit higher, before swiping over your raw clit with a thumb he’s wetted with his own tongue. a moan flies forth from your mouth immediately, and a gush of wetness coats jeno’s cock anew as he circles over your bud with abandon. he’s finally free to surge forward and bury himself within your warm walls without fear of repercussions on your own body… so he does. the breath you’d been holding in is punched out of you, replaced with an honest-to-god wail. tears bud at the corners of your eyes at the stretch, falling as he pulls out almost entirely and slams into you again.

jeno does everything in his life in order to live up to the name you’ve given him: lionheart. he is just and loyal and thoughtful as an advisor, and analytical and fearsome and ruthless as a warrior. sex is where both sides of him meet. it is where he is not just the kingdom’s bravest knight, or the crown’s right-hand man. it is where he is your lionheart, and yours alone, where your souls intertwine at the place your bodies meet.

he notices how your hands come up to reach for him, leaning down so you can place one hand against his heart - against his tattoo - and throw the other one over his other shoulder. jeno’s nose is almost touching yours, though your bodies shift continuously as he keeps drawing back and driving his hips into yours with force.

he never ceases to make you feel full.

your walls grip his cock tightly, amplifying every movement jeno indulges you in. the slide is slick and wet and perfect, but it is not easy. the head of his dick catches on your clenched walls every time he pulls out just to slam back in, forcing you to feel him with everything you have. it’s exactly what you want.

he slows down his thrusting for a moment as he moves forward slightly, leaning closer still as he places one forearm against your head and raises his other hand to fondle your chest over your sheer clothing. somehow, this is no longer enough for you. jeno’s cock is fully sheathed within you as he swipes a thumb over one of your nipples, and the feeling of his skin pushing the cloth against one of your most sensitive areas has you shuddering in a way that causes you to squeeze even tighter around him. his hips stutter slightly, driving him impossibly deeper into you.

“jeno,” you rasp out, tongue heavy and dry. “my pillow. beneath my pillow.”

his eyes go wide as he processes what you’ve just said, his shallow thrusts slowing down. jeno gulps audibly.

“your- love, your dagger?”

“need you to touch me.” you respond, holding his gaze and watching it clear up from confused to comprehending you entirely. he pushes himself up from his forearm to his hand, sliding out of you in the same movement. you whine sadly at the loss of contact, but jeno mutters a good-natured ‘be quiet’ almost immediately.

“you know,” he starts, voice teasing, even as he pulls your dagger - black steel, quillions and hilt encrusted with blue jewels, black tempered glass at the pommel - out from beneath your pillow using the hand that had been fondling you earlier. he moves back down to his prior position, and your breath hitches as he presses the apex of the knife against the collar of your nightgown. “i’m already touching you.”

“more,” you moan out, the end of your word coming out almost breathlessly. one of your hands slides against his tattoo once more, as if feeling the lion will make it roar to life. “touch me more.”

jeno chuckles, albeit darker than he had been earlier, and digs the dagger into the cloth in front of it without any further ado. you hold your breath willfully this time, not wanting to actually nick yourself on the blade, as he moves down your body, cutting the sheer gown open down its direct center. your lionheart dots his lips against your flesh in a trail in his wake, scraping his teeth against your skin as he sees fit.

he leaves a quick, but filthy, kiss against your clit for good measure, eyes lighting up as you attempt to close your legs around his head on impulse, only to have them pushed apart even farther than before by his strong hands. once he gets to the hem of the slip, he throws your dagger somewhere on the stone floor - neither of you pay any heed to where it clatters - and rips it apart with his bare hands, hardly able to bear not feeling you around him for much longer.

before you can do anything or say anything or even think anything at all, your lover surges forward and presses himself back into you with a grunt that sounds almost like a growl. his hands knead at your thighs as he finds his rhythm with ease, pounding into you with practice as if you’re an art medium and he’s a skilled master. he’s everywhere, all around you and inside of you and in the air and in your skin, and it’s all you’ve ever wanted.

“touching - ha - touching you enough now?” he asks, resolve crumbling bit by bit as he fights to keep himself from tumbling over the cliff’s edge before you do. you can’t dignify him with a response, unable to do anything but claw at his back and pin yourself further against his chest as if it’ll make even more room for you in his heart than there already is. he doesn’t need a response, anyways. jeno already knows.

he knows just how close you are, too. just as close as he is. it’s because of this that jeno moves a hand up to curl around your throat just as he circles your clit with two fingers of the other hand, continuing to fuck into you at the same rate as best he can. with a sharp cry and the arching of your back off the bed, you clench around him for one final time before he comes to a halt, barely holding himself up over you as he releases within you with a shuddering, gasping groan.

moments pass, stretching into longer than they typically are. jeno takes care as he slides out of you, climbing onto the bed and flopping down next to you right after. the feeling of his release, sticky and wet against your inner thighs, is unpleasant at best, but you can’t bring yourself to clean up just yet. instead, you turn your head to your side, your nose immediately brushing against jeno’s sternum as you realize that he’s turned his entire body towards your own. he lets out an airy laugh at the sensation, pushing half of the sliced cloth off of your body in order to run a wide open palm down your naked side.

“good?” he speaks first, asking an arbitrary question. ‘good enough to make you forget?’ is what he means, knowing full well that you could never lose thought of what awaits the two of you. the sentiment is what’s important, though, and you let out an agreeable hum as a reply. the sex itself was great, of course. he’s well aware.

“sleep, lionheart,” you say just as silence attempts to cloak the two of you. “we must be ready soon, as it is.”

jeno gives you no response, and you do not require one from him. instead, he pulls you even closer into his chest as if doing so will protect you from the crithagians across your kingdom. his entire world rests between his arms. you are both tired enough that sleep forces your eyelids closed swifter than expected, and as you fall asleep to your lover’s slowed breathing and muted heartbeat, you can’t help but, just this once, allow your worries to slip off your body as your torn nightgown does.

just before the rise of the sun, jeno will have to get out of bed and clean you up as best he can before donning his clothing, his armor, and his cape. you’ll put his helmet upon his head, pull his visor down over his face after sharing a kiss that could be your last. it is always like this. jeno will rouse the army, you will dress and arm yourself, and meet with your own private troops.

as the sun begins to take its place in the morning sky, luckily opposite your gaze, jeno will lead his people into battle, riding his steed far, far from you. you will watch him go, but he will not look back. doing so is unfortunate luck at best. you’ve ingrained this into his mind.

you do not know whether he will be back or not.

you desperately need him to come back.

all of that will happen in due time, but now, you drift to dreamland, safe in the arms of the man you’ve sworn to be with until the end. he tightens his hold around you, and that is how you spend the night before battle, in total comfort and full of love. no matter what tomorrow brings, at least you have this now. at least you will always have this moment.

the lionheart and his liege. your lionheart and his love.

for now, you are at peace in the calm before the storm.

#first #five #tags #dont #work #jeno #jeno smut #jeno fluff #jeno angst #jeno x reader #nct jeno #nct smut #nct fluff #nct angst #nct dream smut #nct dream angst #nct dream fluff #nct dream

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tooweirdforyou · 4 years

Text

Monster Trio + Trafalgar Law as Yanderes

A/N : This picture is inspiration for this headcannon lol.

Summary : Luffy, Zoro, Sanji and Law as Yanderes, obsessing over their significant other.

YANDERE : an obsession so strong for a loved one, to the point the obsessor will kill to have them.

TW : just mentions of murder, blood shed, isolation, etc.

Luffy

Luffy would be the cheerful, but reckless yandere.

Because he��s so cheerful and always smiling, people wouldn’t know just how dangerous he is, which he will use to his advantage.

He would be the kind of person that would kill people right in front of you, if you weren’t feeling comfortable around them, or if they were a little too close to you, or just constantly stealing your attention away from him.

Would literally want your attention 24/7, do not focus on anything other than him for too long. He’s an actual child who often pouts when you don’t look at him. If you don’t pay attention to him, he’ll slowly grow angry and annoyed to the point that he’ll stretch his arms and yank you towards him to cuddle and play with.

“[Naaameeeee]! You’re not looking at meee!”

Unless you really beg him for a bit of alone time and promise him that you’ll spend the rest of the day with him, he will never let you out of his sight.

Clings to you every second, no matter what you’re doing. He will keep you out of harm’s way, will follow you to the bathroom, will watch you sleep so he knows you won’t be going anywhere in the middle of the night.

If you decide to be his pirate queen on his adventure, he will treat you to all the meat in the world, because he’ll know how to get it free. He’ll even be closer to your side and perhaps after some time and you’re lucky, he’ll start be more lenient to your freedom.

However, if you even attempt to try and leave after so long, he might just have to keep you restrained at all times, ordering his crew mates to keep an eye on you, and for Zoro to cut down anyone who even glances in your direction.

Stay by his side, and he’ll treat you like a queen.

“I don’t want you to leave me. You’ll stay by my side and be the Queen of the Pirates alongside me, right, [Name]?”

Zoro

Zoro would be the clingy and silently dangerous Yandere.

The type to not really care who you’re around, as long as that person doesn’t try anything. However, Zoro will be around you at a distance to keep an eye on you too.

If someone does try something, Zoro is quick to cause a scene and stop them, either with his swords but threatening them, cutting them without warning, or just grabbing your hand and walking off abruptly.

“Let’s go, there’s nothing here to do anyways.”

Zoro would want you to be around him constantly. If you’re willing, he’d gladly let you distract him from his training just to cuddle, spend more time with him and be all affectionate and loving. Or to cuddle with him as he naps on the desk, leaning or laying on each other. As long as you’re there, he doesn’t care.

If you don’t want to be all affectionate and cuddly, he won’t mind, but he will force you to be in the same room as him all day, so he could watch you. It doesn’t matter what you’re doing. Talking to someone? Talk with them in the room with him. Taking a shower? Shower later when he does. Reading a book? Read in the room with him.

The only time you’ll get the chance to be alone, is when Zoro gets lost. He’ll always have you go with him when you explore or when you’re fighting, so he can protect you from danger. However, naturally, Zoro will get lost and this is your time to leave and escape, have some free time to yourself.

If you manage to escape, Zoro will eventually find you and things aren’t going to go well AT ALL. He’ll be in a extreme snappy mood and constantly have a scowl on his face when he finds out you tried to leave him. He’ll lock you in the bedroom, tying you up so you can’t leave.

If any of the crew members try to say something or do something, he won’t hesitate to cut them, even Luffy.

If you actually try to find him instead and successfully do so quickly before he gets the wrong idea, Zoro will reward you. Whether it be some special loving attention or to allow you to roam free without his presence, ONLY on the ship when they’re sailing. Other than that, you’re his, and his only.

Stay by his side, and he’ll treat you like you’re his swords.

“Oi, you better not be thinking about leaving me. You know what’ll happen, don’t you?”

Sanji

Sanji would be the hopelessly in love Yandere. Extremely obsessive and fawns all over you. Kind of like that…?

The type to shower you with every thing he has. Constant snacks and beverages prepared in seconds for you, he will cook all your favorite meals every day and literally be your loyal servant if you asked him to.

“Can I get you anything, my dear [Name]?~ Anything you want!”

He’s so loyal and obsessive over you, he hardly flirts with any other women. He may do it a few times because its in his nature, but don’t think that you’re free from his grasp.

He’s so head over heels for you, he doesn’t care if you constantly try to kill him and shout profanities at him. He will always love you, so much.

When other men are looking at you or get caught up too close to you for his liking, he will memorize their faces as he watches you from afar.

When you finally leave them or if he drags you away to spend time with him or return you to the ship, he’ll leave you and take a detour to teach a quick lesson to those who need to be taught.

He’s smart. He’s not going to completely cling to you and trap you in his hold forever, as much as he would like that. Unlike Zoro and Luffy, he will let you have some freedom and do as you like, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t constantly follow after you in hiding, stalking every movement you make.

He’ll sneak into your room when you’re not there to take a look into your belongings. He’ll be in heaven when he does this, looking through your undergarments and personal items.

If you try to resist him and escape, he’ll only swoon at your cute attempts, because he knows you won’t get anywhere. His face is always flushed and his hands are always clasped together as he watches you from afar.

Stay by his side, and he’ll treat you like a goddess.

“I may not be worthy of your love, but I will make sure no one else will be either. My sweet [Name]-angel, your love and presence is the only thing that keeps me alive~”

Law

Law would be the manipulative and most possessive Yandere.

The one who will guilt you into everything. Or use mind tricks just so you’ll stay with him.

“You’re leaving so soon? You hardly spent any time with the crew yet. Or me. Besides, I don’t think it’ll be good for your health if you leave so quickly.”

Since no one can resist Bepo, he’d also order him to try to persuade you to do what he wants, which you immediately agree too, because it’s Bepo.

Like Sanji, he wouldn’t be too restrictive with your choices to wander off, because he knows you’ll end up back to him. And if you stray too far or get too close to others, he’ll room you back right to his side.

Shambles everyone that interrupts you two, no matter who it is. If it’s his crew, he’ll just threaten them and give deadly glares, unless it was extremely important.

If you try to leave, he’ll order one of his crew mates to stay by you wherever you go. He trusts them enough to not try anything and to get the job done.

If you’re bored and you bother him while he’s busy, he might tell you to wait but it doesn’t last long because if you’re willingly giving attention to him, he’s going to have it and take his opportunity.

Will find it amusing when you try to fight against him, since it’s obvious you’ll lose no matter what you try.

But after endless futile escape attempts from you, he will get annoyed and he’ll shamble you and make it so you can’t go anywhere. You’ll be stuck with him until you learn your lesson.

If you’re obedient, he’ll give you a reward. Anything you want, within reason, of course, he’ll get it even if he says no at first.

Stay by his side, and he’ll treat you like an empress.

“You’re not going anywhere, [Name]-ya. You belong with me and I’ll cut up anyone who gets in the way. You’re mine.”

#one piece x reader #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy #monkey d. luffy x reader #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law #law x reader #x reader #one piece #op x reader #tooweirdforyou

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cinnaminsvga · 4 years

Text

Let the Dead Weep | Jimin

→ summary: jimin falls in love the only way he knows how: catastrophically. your heart ends up as collateral damage.

→ genre: royal guard!jimin, princess!reader, angst → warnings: jimin is cold-hearted but only because he’s afraid, jungkook tries his Best to pick up the pieces, heart ache city babey! → words: 5.6K → a/n: this was commissioned by the wonderful @kookiebunnii!! thanks again for giving me the freedom to write my own wips (this is admittedly Very old... so old that i almost forgot this existed in my drafts lol) i hope you like it bc this one is prime zee angst propaganda... sorry jimin but i had to do it to ya (again)

The sound of clicking heels is an unusual occurrence at the royal training grounds. Accustomed to the cacophony of grunting men and clashing swords, Prince Jungkook does not immediately notice that something (or rather, someone) is out of place.

“Your defenses are down.” Jungkook thrusts his sword forward, disarming his sparring partner in one smooth motion. Surprised, his partner yelps as his sword clatters to the ground, his now empty hands raised awkwardly in befuddlement. But his shock does not last long, as his previously occupied gaze returns to where it was, his jaw agape as he continues to stare somewhere just outside the courtyard.

When Jungkook turns his head to the source, he finally understands why he had so easily defeated his distracted opponent.

Your bright white summer dress stands out starkly against the dreary autumn scenery, your skirt bunched up to your knees to avoid tripping over yourself. It seems as though the world has gone still from shock, every man in the vicinity holding their breaths at their first glimpse of the princess from up close. Even from where he stands, Jungkook can see the sweat flowing freely from your temples as you rush towards them, your chest heaving as you dash past dozens of starstruck onlookers towards your destination.

You don’t even spare Jungkook a glance when you pass by him, your eyes trained somewhere behind him as though nothing (or rather, no one) else in the courtyard matters. “Jimin!” you call out, nearly collapsing onto the man you had been looking for as you fail to stop your momentum in time. Luckily, the head of the royal guard catches you effortlessly, his hand previously resting on the hilt of his sword jumping up to find its place on your waist to steady you.

Jungkook watches as Jimin’s gaze sweeps through the sea of heads before landing on him. The guard’s posture stiffens, jaw clenching as the two men size each other up. Eventually, Jimin drops his hand from your waist as if he’d been burned, taking an inconspicuous step back to regain some sort of respectable distance.

Jimin clears his throat, his expression as stern as ever. It only takes a single glare from him for the excited whispers to die in a second. “Well? Did I tell you to stop? Take your positions,” he growls. In an instant, the men around Jungkook rise back to action, the sound of metal hitting metal echoing loudly once more.

“Your Highness? Shall we continue?” The boy he had been sparring with speaks out hesitantly, breaking Jungkook’s trance. Jungkook blinks slowly in confusion, before remembering where he was and what he was doing. He takes one last glance at Jimin’s and your retreating forms, only managing to glimpse the trail of your skirt as Jimin quickly drags you away from prying eyes.

“Your Highness?” the boy repeats, more nervously this time. Jungkook fixes a smile on his face before turning to face him, gently patting the young boy on the shoulder with the ease and charisma only a prince could manage.

“Yes, let’s continue. On your guard,” Jungkook warns, poising his sword forward before taking the first strike.

x x x x x

Jimin drags you away to the nearby armory, causing a domino of shields to topple down in his haste to open the door. He shuts it closed, not bothering to find a light as he pulls you deeper into the large shed. Only the small window by the roof sheds any light for them to see, but it’s enough for you to see the barely concealed annoyance set in Jimin’s eyes.

“What the hell were you thinking? That was highly inappropriate for a princess,” he growls, lips downturned in a frown. He might be well-known amongst his men as a stern and unforgiving captain, but he has never been gruff with you. In any other scenario, you might have been shocked at his sudden change of face, but the news that you just heard from your father is still ringing loudly in your ears, distracting you from anything else.

“What am I thinking? I should be asking you that! How is it that despite being the princess of this damn kingdom, I am still the last to know anything around here?” you shriek, ignoring Jimin’s silent pleas for you to quiet down. No, you are done being quiet; if you had to choose a moment to you would throw away all etiquette classes out the window, it would be now.

Jimin heaves a sigh, rubbing his temples. “Your Highness—”

“Don’t call me that,” you hiss, interrupting him. You hold up a finger when he makes a move to argue. “No, you answer my questions, first and foremost. Why did I only find out from my father just now that you volunteered to get stationed at the border?” You can feel your face heating up from the frustration and betrayal you feel; blood rushes up to your head and leaves you feeling dizzy, but you refuse to stop until he budges.

You’re breathing heavily, speaking so quickly that you doubt you’re making any sense right now. “The king requested for volunteers to fill the station guard units over a month ago. We’ve met and seen each other multiple times since then, and yet here we are,” you spit out, jabbing a nail into his chest. He barely budges, only keeping his head lowered. “Huh? Why on earth would you keep this from me? Answer me, Park Jimin!”

Jimin grimaces, his face contorting as if he’s in pain. He does not make a move to reply, only continues to avoid your fierce gaze. But even from where you stand under this dim light, you can tell from his expression that he isn’t guilty—just forlorn. Heartbroken, even.

You swallow thickly, blinking rapidly to keep your angry tears at bay, but your voice still cracks when you ask, “Why won’t you say anything?”

Finally, he looks at you. “What else is there to say?” He sounds as defeated as you feel.

And yet, you’re flabbergasted. You’re angry, tired, and hysterical—but above all else, you’re hurt. It feels as though a massive rock has dropped in your stomach, crashing waves against your chest like fire licking at your bones. The heavy feeling that has been weighing on you finally has a name, as you have been fighting to ignore what it was for ages now. Deep down, you know that this is inevitable, but somewhere inside you still resides the six-year-old child entrenched in her happy fairy tales, the same girl who believes that good things will always happen to good people.

You hoped that you would have at least deserved a warning. Preparation before this mirage disappeared forever. But Jimin had always been the type to rip the bandage and muscle through the pain, so you shouldn’t have been surprised at all. You just hoped that the two of you would still have more time.

A naive thing to desire, as Park Jimin was never yours to call your own.

You’re struggling to find the words to speak, anything to convince him to stay, even if you know it is not your place. He can see you grappling for straws, and perhaps it is out of pity or self-preservation, but he does not mention it. He does not say anything about you at all.

Eventually, he speaks. “I am… I have to...” He hesitates for a moment, taking one short glance at you before staring at the door. His hand grips the hilt of his sword tightly, though you know it is not because he itches to wield it, but for his ease of mind. You have learned, after years of growing up with him, that his only comfort comes from his own strength, his own ability to control his fate.

“Unfortunately, I must leave for now, Your Highness. Let us speak about this later before my subordinates begin to wonder.” There is a heaviness in his tone when he says that, like it is disgraceful for you to be seen with him. It reignites the fire in your veins once more, and you reflexively reach out to grab his retreating shoulder before the shed is suddenly bathed in light.

“Princess Y/N? Are you alright?” Prince Jungkook stands by the entrance of the armory, sweaty hair matted to his skin from his morning practice routine. For a moment, you almost hate the way he had sounded so… well-meaning, even though he had done nothing wrong to spite you. In fact, Jeon Jungkook has always been the perfect filial son, someone any royal family would be proud of.

And unfortunately for you, that was quite possibly the only reason you were betrothed to him in the first place.

You see him eye the pair of you curiously, his gaze gradually coming to a stop where your hand still rests against Jimin’s shoulder. You retract it immediately as if burned. You clear your throat, curtsying respectfully to him. “I am fine, Prince Jungkook. I am sorry for the scene I caused. I hope I did not interrupt your daily practice,” you say carefully, folding your hands in front of you.

Jungkook nods silently, his expression giving nothing away. Feeling awkward under his scrutiny, you curtsy to him once more. You shuffle away from Jimin without sparing him another glance, but you feel his gaze trained on your back like a brand. You wait for Jungkook to allow you to pass him before scuttling away, the ends of your dress dragging across the dirt path as you rush back towards the castle.

Stupid of you.

Jimin had been right, like always. News spreads fast within these ancient walls, and the chatterings about your emotional display are sure to reach your father’s ears one way or another. You doubt he’d be surprised by it; it’s no secret that your affections have always lied heavily on the royal guardsman. As long as you kept your secret rendezvous a secret, the King is more than happy to turn a blind eye. A reward, perhaps, for keeping your side of the deal.

Except that side of the deal hadn’t meant to arrive until your older brother had been wed, right after his search for his queen consort had been completed. But Jungkook’s family had been adamant to move things along, most likely due to their desperation to form an alliance with your prominent kingdom. As the seventh son, Jungkook hardly had any use for them in their household other than being goods for barter, and in any other case, you might have felt bad for him.

The guilt feels like a dagger pressing itself against your throat, and yet, you do not have the courage to fight against it. You sigh, defeated, as you stay reclused in your bedroom, waiting for Jimin to join you.

You don’t join your family for lunch that afternoon: a bigger mistake on your part, as it probably incriminates you further. Even worse still, Jungkook and his escorts are guests at the palace, and your absence doesn’t look good for your reputation. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to care that day, only offering weak excuses about a headache to appease them.

To your surprise, Jungkook had vouched for you, according to your handmaiden. When you asked what he said, they said he had mentioned something about your pensiveness from this morning. You scoff, wondering if he must be covering your mistake for the sake of your future together.

The sun makes its way across the horizon and still no signs of Jimin visiting your quarters. You pace your room for so long that you fear leaving the carpet threadbare, your restlessness causing spikes of fear to trickle down your spine. Your entire body tingles with the need to do something, anything. Just to feel as though you still have some control, some sense of sanity.

By your dresser, your untouched violin sits, waiting forlornly for your hands to caress it once more. It is a gift from your mother for your birthday, though you have scarcely used it since then. You have always been talented with the violin, but the need to play it had died down once your days had been occupied with a different type of music—the sort of melodies that you could not pull from strings or brass.

You pluck the violin from its stand, the polished wood still smelling of varnish when you place it by your neck. You begin to play a piece from memory—a song that your tutor had once drilled into your head until your hands could move on their own. Even still, you love the piece with all your heart; the melancholy and longing of the notes resonate deeply within you.

You know that what you are doing is cruel, both to yourself and to him. With your window wide open, you are sure that the wind can carry your music to the royal offices, where Jimin is sure to hear it. Anyone would be able to tell that it is you playing, stringing note after note with hopeless abandon. Just to get a reaction, from anyone. Anything!

So deeply are you immersed in your playing that it takes a moment for you to notice the knocking. Your bow stills mid-way, your breath hitching when the knocking continues. “Just a moment,” you call out, hastily placing your violin back on your dresser before ripping open the door to find—

Prince Jungkook still has his hand poised to knock, not having anticipated you to open your door so quickly. “Oh, pardon me. I am so sorry to intrude on your playing. Have I come at a bad time?”

Your shoulders slacken, and your disappointment could not be more apparent. “Oh.”

Prince Jungkook smiles wryly, not appearing to be offended by your less than enthusiastic greeting. “I know that it is improper of me to ask, but could you invite me into your quarters for a moment? I would like to speak to you, if you would allow it.”

“Why would it be improper? We’re promised to each other anyway,” you reply bitterly, the words coming out before you can think twice.

Jungkook cringes, bowing his head sadly. “I suppose that is a bad thing, isn’t it?”

It is impossible not to feel bad after that, your face flushing deeply with shame. “Not exactly…” You offer an awkward smile to compensate, but you doubt that it reaches your eyes. You step aside, allowing him to enter. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

His long legs allow him to take only two strides to reach the center of your room, his large frame engulfing the space. It almost feels suffocating, being here with him. Your mind unhelpfully compares him to the other only man who has ever entered your room, a man who had a much more lithe figure to the one with you right now.

You notice how he scans your room with sharp eyes, how he locks onto your violin immediately. He moves towards it and makes a motion as if to hold it, and after you give him your permission, he picks it up with reverence, turning it over with meticulous grace. “I was not aware that you were so gifted with musical talent,” he murmurs, plucking the strings experimentally.

You shrug, leaning against your door. “It was never brought up during our dinner conversations.” Not that much was said between the two of you during your meals together, as your father seems more interested in learning about Jungkook’s competency in politics than what his hobbies are.

He nods, absent-minded. He returns the violin to its proper place, his touch featherlike and graceful. He might be a violinist himself, you think. “That piece you were just playing… What was it called?”

A common question. “It’s a traditional song based on one of the kingdom’s myths,” you reply easily.

He nods again. “Why were you playing it?”

A less common question, one that you find more difficult to answer. “It… happened to be the first one I thought of, I suppose.” A half-truth, at the very least.

He hums thoughtfully, turning to you with doleful eyes. “Then I suppose that you must be grieving, are you not? if that is the sort of song that first comes to mind.”

You’re immediately defensive, curling into yourself as you watch him suspiciously. “My father… He told you, didn’t he?”

Even though you do not expound on what you mean, the prince is quick to shake his head in denial. “Nothing my eyes have not already seen.”

You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, hackles rising as you size him up. “What do you want from me then? A confession? For me to go on my knees and ask for forgiveness?” you spit.

He stares at you, astonished. “Who am I to dole out absolution when I am but only a man?”

“So does that mean you have committed the same mistakes that I have? I find that hard to believe,” you scoff, lowering your guard in your annoyance. He’s only been in your room for a few minutes and already you tire of his company; you wonder how you’ll manage to keep your sanity while spending your life with him.

But in truth, even if he hadn’t irritated you, even if he was the nicest man in the world, he would never compare to the man you have already laid your heart with.

He shakes his head once more, almost as if he’s embarrassed. “Not quite, but I do understand what you’re going through. Somewhat.”

Somewhat, he says. The more you observe him, the more you realize how young he is. Not just in the way he appears, but also in the way he talks and moves, almost like the stars trapped in his eyes have yet to escape. You can imagine him falling for one of the servant girls back in his own palace, secretly swapping lovelorn gazes across polished halls. Unlike you, he must not have acted on his greed, knowing the extent of his responsibility to his house and kingdom.

Unlike you, he does not bear a cruel bone in his body, as he would never subject that poor girl to the sort of heartbreak that only a clandestine relationship could offer.

“I want to make myself clear to you, my princess. I did not come here to accuse you of anything. I came here because I wanted to make myself clear with you,” he says. You raise a brow, urging him to continue.

“I am not asking you to fall in love with me,” he says plainly. It surprises you greatly, to hear him speak so candidly. Ever the perfect politician, he’d only ever spoken with care and precision, always anticipating the other party’s reaction. You have spoken with enough visiting royals to know that he is well-versed in that sort of language, so to hear him speak so brazenly is almost refreshing.

“I wouldn’t have offered, regardless,” you respond, smirking sardonically. He laughs at that, and you can hear the honesty in his laughter, too.

“Fair. But for the sake of the people who put their faith in us, I would suggest,” he pauses, licking his lips as he mulls over his next words, “that we might be sincere with one another. Just so our union may not perish… prematurely.”

You don’t respond, scanning him for any ill intent. As a princess from an illustrious kingdom, you have needed to stave off numerous lords and princes from taking your hand for their own wicked gain. However, none of your previous suitors were like Prince Jungkook, who genuinely seemed to care greatly for his people, as seen by how kindly he has treated his entourage of helpers.

He waits for you to say something, but eventually, he continues, “Princess Y/N, it would be the greatest honor if you would allow me to know you better. I seek nothing more than your companionship.” He blushes slightly, coughing into his fists. “W-well, not that you owe me that, as we could very well live separately for the rest of our lives, but... Umm… That came out a little more awkward than I intended, but I hope you get the gist.”

You realize, then, that he desires to live peacefully with you—guilelessly and unselfishly. Perhaps he is doing this for his parents (highly likely), or perhaps he has no other choice (extremely likely). But the fact remains that in front of you stands a good man with a simple wish: to become friends with you, if not at least become amicable with one another.

“Then I suppose you want to know more about me? About my story?” you ask sarcastically. “Want to know why the eldest daughter of the king is off frolicking with the captain of his guard?”

Jungkook snorts, an easy smile on his lips. “Well, you could tell me that, but I was thinking more along the lines of ‘when did you learn to play the violin?’ and other neutral information. You know, like how normal people converse.”

It takes you a moment to realize that he had been making fun of you. “Hey, watch it, princeling. You’re not in the clear just yet,” you huff, but there is no bite to your bark. You can tell that he knows this, from the way his tense figure has relaxed tremendously in this short amount of time. You notice your own tension fading away too, if only infinitesimally.

“I can start if you want,” he hums, tapping a finger on his chin as he thinks. “Well, I have always wanted to tell you this, but you might think I might be buttering your ass if I did, pardon the language—”

You laugh loudly, baffled by his seemingly out-of-nowhere casual demeanor. In your bedroom, with his shoulders slackened and hair still disheveled from his morning practice, he looks nothing like the perfect prince you had boxed him in as. “Pardoned,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“—but I’ve always found your tenacity to be admirable. Your dedication to your people, evidenced by your tireless work to make their lives better, has always struck me as inspirational. Pardon the cliché, but you really aren’t like other girls,” he says.

You wave off his compliments. “By the sounds of it, you must have this line practiced to perfection. Don’t tell me this is what you say to the other princesses when you confess to them.”

He flushes darkly, stuttering at your brash comment. The sight makes you snort, only worsening his embarrassment. “I have, um, never confessed to anyone before…”

“I find that hard to believe. Sure, you might not be like me—” you say drily. You haven’t sentenced your own life to heartache and misfortune, is what you mean to say. The pang in your chest comes back with a vengeance, but you carry on. “—but I would imagine that you’ve had to sweet talk many princesses before me. I was not your parents’ first choice, was I?”

“Indeed,” he admits awkwardly. “But I am not completely powerless. My father had allowed me some freedom when choosing a bride, and I…” he trails off, swallowing nervously. He gestures to you vaguely, unwilling to keep eye contact as he does.

You gape at him, pointing to yourself. “You… You chose me? Why?”

“It’s exactly as I said,” he shrugs. “I read about the things you’ve done, and I was drawn to you. It seems that my freedom has indirectly caused your misery, however…” he says ashamedly.

Guilt coils up you for the umpteenth time that day, except now it is directed at the boy in front of you. Foolish of you to think that your actions only affected you and your lover. Foolish of you to believe that your actions don’t have consequences bigger than you might have imagined.

“It… is not your fault,” you grit out, though it pains you to say. Not because it is a lie, but rather, it is a painful truth: a pill you have finally been forced to swallow. “My recklessness has caused more wreckage than I would have imagined.”

“I must admit that I have always been in love with the concept of love,” he says. He scratches the back of his neck, shyly turning away from you. “I believe that while love comes in all different shapes and sizes, it is certainly never supposed to be cruel. It is never selfish or… painful.”

Your eyes narrow, fully understanding his implications. “Then you must be as naive as you appear,” you snarl. You step away from the doorway, making your way towards the prince until your chests were merely a breath apart. However, he doesn’t back away like you thought he would. He stands his ground, looking at you through his long lashes.

“You wouldn’t understand. Have you ever loved someone so deeply that even the thought of being apart wounds you? Have you ever stayed awake at night, listening carefully to the sound of your own beating heart, aching for someone you cannot have? It is an ache, Jungkook, that cannot be salved with pretty words and sentiments. It is not a choice,” you finish, vision growing blurry with unshed tears. But you refuse to let them fall, not for a boy who didn’t know better.

His gaze is level with your own, his breathing steady. His eyes look dark to you, no longer sparkling like they once did. But before you can blink, the darkness is gone, replaced with his carefully crafted neutrality. The princely politician makes his return, except he’s a little sadder. Disappointed, even. “No, I have not experienced any of that. I cannot say for certain what is true, but I have always thought that love should be gentle and kind. Something to be enjoyed, and not a cause of strife.”

He steps away from you, his footsteps light as he makes his way to the door. When he twists the doorknob, he stills for a moment. “It was nice speaking to you, Y/N. Don’t… keep hurting yourself, okay? A lot of people care for you, even if they don’t say it. Even if it doesn’t seem that way.”

You bark out a laugh, but it sounds watered down to your ears. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love with me already.”

He smiles at you, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmurs before bidding you farewell.

You’re left alone again, and your room feels significantly more hollow. Your entire body is vibrating, filled with an unidentifiable feeling swirling in your chest like a hurricane. Was it anger? Frustration? Hopelessness? Guilt? Perhaps an ungodly concoction of all four?

You feel nauseous, almost falling over from the strength of it. Everything about today has caused you to lose your hold on your sanity, the urge to scream in anguish becoming more unbearable by the second.

Love should be gentle and kind, he said. Despite how sweet his intentions, his words still feel like poison. How dare he say that to you, when he knows that you wish it was true?

You grab your violin by the neck, your violent grip causing the wood to creak. Your hands shake, tears freely falling into the sea of your self-pity.

You drag your bow harshly against the strings, striking a sound louder than your own frustrated cry. A few of the hairs snap, but you continue, playing like a madwoman possessed. The music is frantic, agonizing—goosebumps trail your skin unprompted. Your pain overflows until even the dead can hear you weep.

Your violin almost drowns out the sound of another knock at your door. “Go away,” you growl, playing more fiercely. The violin groans, as if in pain. “If you’ve come back to lecture me about love again—”

“Your Highness,” a softer voice responds. It’s not Jungkook like you had thought. “It’s Jimin.”

Even if he had not announced himself, you would have known just by his footsteps. You freeze, your heart beating wildly out of your chest. You swipe a hand across your cheek in a futile attempt to hide away the evidence. Even without a mirror, you know that your eyes are puffy and bloodshot.

He enters without your prompting: comfortable enough to invade your space as if he had not torn your heart to pieces just hours ago. His gaze immediately goes to your face, a staggered breath leaving his lungs when he sees your hollow expression. But that moment of weakness disappears in an instant, the same stoic captain from this morning reappearing right in front of you.

“Had you been expecting someone else?” he asks in place of a greeting. There is an edge to his tone, you notice. If you didn’t know better, you might have missed it. Jealousy. How dare he.

You squint at him, but you say nothing. The air is icy with tension, enough to freeze hell twice over.

He clears his throat. “I’ve come to apologize, your Highness. It was out of line for a royal guard such as myself to drag you so brusquely like that. It will not happen again,” he murmurs.

You can hear the hidden meaning buried in his words. It won’t happen again, because I won’t be here to do it.

“Is that all you have to say?” you whisper. You place your violin down carefully, but your vision is already turning blurry once more. You won’t cry in front of him. You refuse to be the only one hurt from this.

He sighs, as if worn by your childish antics. “Y/N, you don’t understand—”

When he calls you by your name, the fraying string inside of you snaps. “Save it,” you seethe. “You’re a coward, that’s what you are. There isn’t anything to understand.”

“No, you should understand,” Jimin steps forward, grabbing you by the shoulders. He shakes you, desperation hanging off every inch of his frame. “As a princess, you should know what it means to serve the people. You should know more than anyone about the oaths I made to this kingdom. You should be proud of me!”

His increasing volume only encourages you to match him, your throat nearly getting torn in two from how loudly you shout. “Cut the patriotic act! Do you think I’ve forgotten all the whispers you’ve planted in my head? About how you wished more than anything to work with your brothers as performers, how you wished you hadn’t been the breadwinner of your family just so you wouldn’t have to sell your strength to my father?”

“I was naive. I should have known it was my responsibility,” he counters.

“Then what about all the promises you made to me during our nights together? You swore to love me forever under starry nights and disheveled sheets. You said you’d run away with me, just so I wouldn’t have to marry anyone else!”

Jimin grits his teeth. “Meer words of comfort. The babblings of a child.”

You shove him away, your skin burning from where he touched you. “Then actions must speak louder than words, correct? You cannot hide from me when your lovemaking spoke volumes. ”

For once, it seems Park Jimin is at a loss for words. He clenches his fists by his side, looking utterly defeated. “Y/N… You know that it’s the right thing to do.”

“I don’t,” you mumble, lips trembling. “I really don’t.”

“Even so,” Jimin says. He lifts a finger, wiping away a stray tear from your cheek. “It is better that I make the choice than you.”

Better that he breaks your heart than you. “We… we could’ve found another way,” you croak, helpless.

Jimin only smiles sadly. “The prince… He is a good man. I have been watching him these past few weeks and I know that he will—” his voice catches, and he has to pause for a moment to regain his composure. “He will make a good match for you. It would be wrong for us to…”

It pains you to admit it, but he’s right. Jungkook doesn’t deserve your infidelity. And yet, even if Jimin were to leave, would you ever be wholly Jungkook’s anyway? What would be the difference, if your heart will continue to yearn for another man regardless?

“Tell me this, then. For once, spare me from your half-truths. Drive the final nail into my coffin so that I know that you are truly certain.” You force him to look you directly in the eye, his pupils shaking as he takes you in for what might be his last time. It is almost as if time had stopped, and only the two of you existed in this space. This bedroom that you called your haven, the place where you had fallen in love—the place that will witness your first heartache.

“If our lives could have been different, would you have loved me then?”

Jimin has never looked so weary, so different from the boisterous boy you had met all those years ago. “I’m sure… that I would’ve done what was best. For the greater good.”

“And does that greater good include us? How do we fit in that equation?”

But he only steps away, his hand still outstretched as if to hold you. Then, he slowly tucks it behind him, his posture straightening the way a guard should. “I think you already know the answer to that,” he says, the note of finality ringing loud and clear.

He pries open the door, hesitating only for one more moment before chancing one last glance at you. “Tomorrow… I leave with my men. I would appreciate it if you don’t come.”

The door closes, and your question remains unanswered.

Just like him, the empty silence of your room refuses to respond, no matter how many times you ask.

Because in the sanctity of your bedroom, no promises ever did hold. The Park Jimin you loved was never real in the first place, and no matter how much you slam your fists and stomp your feet, he’s never going to love you the way you want him to.

And there you stand, all by your lonesome, without the prying gazes of those who expect better of you. Gruesomely, and painfully you.

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lostonehero · 3 years

Text

Becoming less human

It was a week after the near end of the world by two men who had good intentions but no common sense. The teams Aqua and Magma merged and started on trying to help without the use of extreme measures. Both teams thankfully were pardoned and nobody died, but the orbs the orbs were absorbed into both leaders flesh, and as far as anyone knows nothing came of it except the two leaders getting together.

Maxie gave a frustrated sigh as he tried to put his shoe on again, for some reason it felt too small. He was 35 he was well past growing stuck at 5ft 5in for the rest of his life. He never complained though his height never defined him, and he could beat Archie in a fist fight no problem, growing up in a orphanage where everyone hated would make someone tough. Granted Archie would never admit to loosing, well it wasn't like anyone would belive Maxie either to the world he was a weak skinny nerd. He wore the long sleeves and stocking to cover up scars from past abuse he didn't want to show the world.

"Leader Maxie? I mean Maxie." Tabitha stutters out.

Maxie sighs "Archie isn't in here Tabitha." He heard a sigh of relief as his former admin walked in. "And I told you you didn't have to stay, you can get a better job and not be stuck with the crazy man who almost ended the world." He cursed under his breath again and tossed his shoes to the side.

"Le- Maxie I want to help with your new vision, and even if it involves Aqua what you have drawn out is pretty amazing sir...." he trails off as he watches Maxie. "Sir are you alright."

Maxie sighs. "I think I must of hurt my feet and they are swollen my shoes seem too tight." His feet look perfectly fine except for his nails that look like they are turning black.

"Oh I see do you want me to call for a doctor?"

"No Tabitha I'm fine I'll just steal Archie's shoes he left here." Maxie sighs seeing Tabitha scowl at the former Aqua leader. "I don't need you judging my love life Tabitha."

Tabitha huffs. "You can do better sir."

"Tabitha I appreciate the sentiment but I'm pretty hated right now."

"W-well you are still liked."

"I know you have feelings for Matt, and besides I'm 10 years older then you and Courtney so my answer would still be no."

Tabitha tries to hide his red face, Maxie knew him too well at this point. "R-Right sir uh today is your day off I came to remind you no work."

Maxie curses under his breath Tabitha knew him well as well. "Right very well then I think I'll visit Archie."

Tabitha sighs but didn't argue he knew Maxie wouldn't overwork himself around that pirate.

.......

"If you keep staring at your hands I will smack the back of your head Archie." Shelly huffed

Archie was in casual clothes and nit his wet suit today. He felt naked without it on, but fir some reason his gloves couldn't go all the way down, and it seemed as if the webbing on his fingers had gotten deeper and his nails longer. He kept thinking back to the blue orb absorbing into his skin filing his blood with ice and the legendary beast staring at him seemingly to say "you survived you'll be rewarded" he really didn't know why that was in his head. He even asked Maxie about it and he said the same thing when in regards to his encounter.

"Archibald you're boyfriend is here." Shelly sneered rolling her eyes.

Archie sighs and gives a look to Shelly and she just raises her hands and left. Archie knew Shelly hated Maxie, and he knew Shelly didn't approve but he made him happy.

"Archie? Are you alright." Maxie asks as he plops down into a chair wearing longs sleeves and pants.

Archie frowns he knew the real reason why Maxie covered up and hell it had been only a short time but he wish he could see more of him more often then the bedroom. He shook his head. "I don't know I couldn't put on my gloves today."

Maxie leans back. "Funny I couldn't put on my shoes today I had to wear yours, well the pair you forgot to get when Courtney chased you put of my bedroom."

Archie grimaced at the memory but looked confused. "Maxie I'm like three sizes bigger then you how have you not tripped?"

"They fit perfectly." Macie says calmly but his shaking hands gave him away. "Is this the reward." He whispered fear lacing his tone.

Archie has never seen Maxie truly scared, sure he had startled him but the man was ready to punch him in the face rather then run away. His nerves were starting to eat away at his confidence. "I-i don't know Max. Are we taking there place?"

Maxie shivers. "I never wanted that, I don't think I could stand to loose you now." He frowns. "Could I stay with you tonight...." he trails off.

Archie nods frowning, Maxie never asked he always just stayed and was so dominate in his ways. He decided he didn't like seeing Maxie scared. "Have you gone back to..." he didn't finish his sentence when Maxie looked him in the eye.

"Yes once, it was for closure to make sure they were gone...." he stopped seemingly recalling something. "I heard something though."

"What?"

"Uh I think you've been blessed by the gods your body will change to accept it.... I thought I was just hearing things." He looked down biting his lip.

Archie sighs and looks at Maxie. "I don't want to talk about this anymore..."

"Neither do I." Maxie gets up and offers Archie his hand. "Shall we get some ice cream and try to forget with bad movies."

Archie smiled softly nodding getting up. "Aye that sounds great."

.....3 months later.....

Maxie tried to wrestle Archie's shoes onto his feet but he had little to no luck, it's been months and he was comfortable wearing them this was like being a teenager in a growthspurt all over. "Fuck this!" he threw the shoes across the room and finally noticed his pants were short that doused his frustration with fear.

Archie rushed in right out of the shower his towel haphazardly around his waist. "Maxie are you alright."

Maxie in a quiet voice. "My pants are too short and slightly tight."

Archie furrows his brow and actually looks down and to his astonishment Maxie was right. "I know you've gained weight Maxie, but uh you gained height."

Maxie sighs. "I thought it was I eating more I gained weight, and I didn't mind that but.... but " he stops and takes a deep breath. "Archie we never did stop did we?"

"My legs aren't fusing if that's what your asking." Archie tried to joke but he was starting to get scared too.

Maxie sat down on the bed. "I need to get new clothes." He sighs laying down. "We probably should tell Steven."

Archie frowns and moves to lay down next to him. "Maybe we should start with our former admins, or current ones they really never stopped doing their jobs."

"I don't know which one would be worse." Maxie chuckles covering his face. "Tabithia and Courtney will be the worse mother hens."

"You think that's bad Matt once carried me to bed when I had the sniffles." Archie gives a small laugh.

"When did our lives get so messed up? Wait don't answer that I know why." Maxie huffs looking at Archie.

Archie couldn't hold it in and started to laugh.

Maxie threw a pillow at him.

..... 6 months later......

Archie frowns looking at the large blanket Matt bought for him and Maxie. "Is this really necessary? Maxie only grew 6inches."

"Bro you need to think long term, you're changing too." Matt puffs out his chest. "Even if you become another kyoger I want to make sure you're warm."

Archie sighs scratching his beard. "I don't think that's what I'm becoming Matt, but uh thanks." Matt was like his brother, he was just a tad over protective.

Matt shakes his head. "No matter what happens Archie I will be by your side no matter what."

Archie smiles softly. "Thanks Matt, but uh I think we are good on blankets, Maxie is like a furnace..."

"Does he have a fever, I know I was rude and mean when you started dating but he really loves you can I help?" Matt rattles off

Archie chuckles. "No Bro like how my body temperature lowered Maxie's went up."

"Ohhh ok so you guys cancel each other out just like them. Maybe they are dating too."

Archie covers his face with his hands trying to get that image put of his head as Matt rattles on about the many plans he has to help.

.....4 months later.....

"This is insulting at this point." Archie huffs laying on his stomach.

Maxie matching Archie's position. "I didn't want a tail either but here we are. It's not even fully formed yet and it's so sensitive." He sighs. "I honestly thought you would be upset because I'm taller then you now."

"Not gonna lie Max that kinds of turns me on." Archie chuckles hearing Maxie scoff.

"We aren't even entirely human anymore and you are thinking about bedroom activities." He tries and fails to look offended. "I can't say it hasn't crossed my mind Archie but I want to wait till we are done changing."

"Agreed, so how are your feet doing I know they were killing you." Archie hums trying to keep conversation to distract from the pain.

Maxie looks away. "Scales and bone spur on my heel...they feel a lot better but I'm worried I might hurt you while we sleep."

Archie has wide eyes. "Matching your claws."

Maxie looks back raising his brow. "Seriously Archie? What about your neck?"

"Gills got matching ones on my waist as well, I don't need my wetsuit anymore." He smiles.

Maxie smiles "swimming with Bruce is in your future right." He grimaced as a soft crack is heard. "F-fun with your p-pokemon."

Archie held onto Maxie's hand. "Its ok you don't need to be tough around me I love you."

Maxie held on tightly to Archie's hand. "I love you too." It was the first time they exchanged those words.

....1 month later....

Archie was chasing down Maxie with a bucket of soapy water. "Maxie I swear to arceus that you need to stop you're shedding let me help."

"Fuck off Archie, and leave that fucking hell brush in the trash." Maxie growls a red glowed from his eyes.

"Maxie it's just a brush stop being a baby." Archie tries to tackle him but misses. "I swear I will call Courtney and Tabitha."

"You wouldn't dare." Maxie hisses.

"I would you human lizard just get in the medicated bath." Archie crosses his arms.

Maxie grumbles and walks back to the large bath with bubbles and a medical oder he hated. He got in crossing his arms. "Only because I don't want them to see me naked again."

Archie sighs and begins to scrub softly at Maxie's scales helping them shed. "Look I don't like this either but I refuse to be covered in your shed again. I don't care if we are still changing you will take a bath when you shed."

Maxie scowls. "You don't have to baby me Archie. You know why I don't like baths."

Archie pauses. "I know Max, but you'll feel better we both know that. I'm sorry but I don't want the shower spray to hurt you like last time when you first shed."

Maxie looks away and nods. "I know I know, could you.... maybe uh come in with me?"

Archie chuckles and plops into the bath with Maxie splashing him.

Maxie spits out the soapy water at Archie. "You know what I changed my mind get out."

Archie laughs harder. "Love you too Maxie."

......1 year later....

Maxie was sitting at his desk Archie was late to their meeting, Tabitha and Courtney were both waiting along with Shelly and Matt. It was an uncomfortable silence. Maxie tapped his claw against the wood not realizing he was creating a small hole. "He's the one who called the damn meeting why is he running late."

Tabitha sighs knowing Maxie's temper was high by the smell of burning coming from his tail that slapped the floor in annoyance. "Maxie he probably forgot something."

"We share a home Tabitha he seemed perfectly put together." Maxie glares at Matt who looked guilty.

Matt Maxie knew was awful at keeping secrets and a glare from Maxie was enough to set him off. "ARCHIE IS GOING TO PROPOSE." Matt yells breaking all tension. "I promised I wouldn't tell but I just can't. He is late because the ring is taking longer to make then he realized." He covers his face in shame.

Shelly curses. "Fucking hell Matt he told us in confidence."

"I know I know but Maxie looks so upset." Matt whimpers

Shelly groans and leans back.

Courtney was laughing softly a rare sound.

Tabitha gave a look to Matt saying you're on the couch tonight.

Maxie slams his hands on the table startling everyone. "That fucking bastard" he gets up quickly. "I already bought a fucking ring."

The four stared at Maxie connecting the dots and everyone realized that maybe that their collective bosses were both actually so deeply in love they had the same idea.

At that moment Archie walked in hearing Maxie yell. "You bought a ring?"

"Of course I did you dumb pirate I love you." Maxie huffs. "I was waiting for the full moon because you like the moon's reflection on the water."

Archie looks like he was about to cry. "Maxie I love you so much woukd you marry me?"

Maxie threw his own black box at Archie. "Make an educated guess you college graduate."

Archie burst out laughing and runs to tackle Maxie into a hug. "Damn right Maxie I will marry you."

"And I will marry you Archie." Maxie smiles

#becoming less human #magma leader maxie #team aqua archie #aqua leader archie #hardenshipping #pokemon archie #pokemon maxie #magma boss maxie #pokemon #aqua admin matt #aqua admin shelly #magma admin courtney #magma admin tabitha

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angstysebfan · 3 years

Text

Laser-Like Focus - Chapter 1

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Summary: You met Bucky while working with the Avengers. You fell in love and got married. One thing you had in common was to kill all members of HYDRA. Bucky for his known reasons, and you because they killed your parents in front of you when you were a little girl. Soon your focus on HYDRA pulled you and Bucky apart. He decided to leave the Avengers and after a long separation, sent you divorce papers. He comes back to get the signed papers, as he is about to get married again. But everything with you and Buck is an adventure.

Flashback

You were sound asleep in your room, with your dog, Toby, snuggled against you. You are awoken by the sound of screeching brakes outside of your home. Suddenly your mother walks in, “Y/N, come on baby, we have to go,” she says in a panic before scooping you up in her arms.

As she makes it to the top of the stairs, your dad is running up, “They’re here! We have to go through the back way. Give me, Y/N, and you take the lead,” your dad whispers to your mom. Your mom passes you to your dad and you wrap your arms around his neck tight. Your dad put his finger to his lips to tell you to remain quiet.

The three of you quickly and quietly sneak down the back staircase, that only your family knew about. It brought you to the section of the basement that was hidden. Through the basement the three of you ran through the underground tunnel. You tried your best to remain calm and held on to your dad tightly.

Your dad was a scientist for S.H.I.E.L.D, and he knew HYDRA was looking for him so he can replicate the serum used on Captain America during WWII. He always had this plan of escape, just in case, but always hoped he never needed to use it.

As you three made it to the end of the tunnel, your mother climbs out of the tunnel and grabs you from your dad. She races you behind some bushes and tells you to stay there. As your dad climbs out of the tunnel, he rushes over to where he has a car hidden and starts it. You mother grabbed some bags from the shed that was near the car and placed them in the trunk.

As your mom went to retrieve you, they were surrounded by vehicles and men with armor and guns. Your mother looked to where she knew you were and signaled you to stay out of site. “Dr. Y/L/N, nice to see you,” a tall man with a Russian accent says. “I wish I could say the same,” you dad responds. “Where is the formula doctor? You don’t want your wife to get injured, do you? Or what about your daughter?” he asks.

“I don’t have it. It’s already with S.H.I.E.L.D,” you dad replies. The man shakes his head, “I see your wife here, where is that cute little girl of yours? Hmm?” he asks taking out a pistol. “She is staying with family,” you mom replies. The man tuts, “Shame, would have been more fun to kill all of you together,” he says before he shoots your mom in the head, followed quickly by your dad.

You wake up with a start, sitting up, drenched with sweat, and you heart racing. You look over to the other side of the bed and see that it is still empty. Another nightmare. They have been constant since that day in December. If they aren’t about the day your parents were murdered, it’s about the day the love of your life sent you divorce papers.

You get up and quickly change into gym clothes, knowing sleeping is out of the picture at this point. You quickly run downstairs and grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator and head down the gym. You tape your hands, knowing the only way to get out your frustrations was the punching bag.

You start of slow, so that you don’t injure yourself, but as you start to feel the cathartic relief, you punch harder and faster. You think about the day your parents were murdered and how it changed you forever. You were rescued a few days later by S.H.I.E.L.D and put into foster care, as you had no other family. When you were old enough, you went back to S.H.I.E.L.D. and started training with them, quickly becoming a damn good agent.

Along the way you became good friends with Natasha, and when S.H.I.E.L.D. fell, she made sure you were taken care of. After the events of the Avengers Civil War, all was forgiven between Tony and Steve, and the Avengers were back together, with a new member, Bucky Barnes. Natasha reached out to you, knowing you were still an agent with another agency in Europe, and asked if you wanted to be a member of the team as well.

You jumped on the next flight and met the team at the compound. It took you little time to become a hardworking member of the team, a member of the family, and mostly, a friend to Bucky. You both became close very quickly, understanding the meaning of losing everything. You both also suffered from nightmares, and made sure to help each other out. It didn’t take long for the friendship to form into a loving relationship, then marriage.

Bucky was the love of your life. He was the bright spot in your life of darkness, and he felt the same about you. You both loved each other with such passion, the thought of anything going wrong was unthinkable. You both also had a passion to make HYDRA pay for what they did. Bucky wanted them to know the pain they caused him, and you wanted sweet revenge on your parents lives.

At first the need to beat and kill HYDRA brought you both closer, however as time went on, your thirst for HYDRA blood grew stronger and Bucky was looking for other things. Bucky wanted to settle down, start a family, and live a happy life. He realized to him that was beating HYDRA, but you wanted HYDRA to pay the ultimate price, and you wouldn’t stop until it was done.

Your relationship with Bucky, though strong at first, started to fall apart. You did your best to fix everything, along with Bucky, but at the end of the day he wanted to stop fighting and live a life, and you didn’t. You couldn’t. Not until every last HYDRA member was dead. It broke Bucky’s heart the day he asked for a separation. He thought maybe separating would show you what you were missing.

Bucky left the Avengers at the same time of the separation. He moved back down into Brooklyn, and he hoped and prayed for you to show up saying he was enough, and that he never saw you in the newspaper because you got hurt, or worse died. You both would talk weekly, hoping to come to an arrangement that would work, but alas nothing seemed to get your focus off of HYDRA.

This past December you got a package in the mail from an attorney’s office. When you opened it you saw they were divorce papers that were already signed by Bucky. Your heart broke into a million pieces, and you didn’t know what to do. The team tried to get you to talk to Bucky, but you knew at this point you drove him away completely. You shoved the papers in your desk drawer to look at another day.

Since that day you have had frequent nightmares about the death of your parents, or getting those papers again, but in the dream Bucky gave them to you with no emotion. You would wake up the same way and in return, would come down the punching bag to relieve the stress.

When the sun finally came up, you were dead tired, but still punching the bag. Steve and Nat walked into the gym. “Another nightmare?” Nat called out to you. You refused to look at them and just nodded, continuing to punch the bag. You felt someone walk up behind you and finally turned to look. Steve had a look of sympathy mixed with guilt.

“Y/N, um... I hate to ask you this, especially since you are already having a bad day, but do you have the papers signed?” he asks. You look up at him, knowing Bucky reached out. You nodded, “Yea, uh. They are in my dresser,” you respond quietly. Steve nodded, “Ok, um... Bucky is stopping by today, to uh... to pick them up,” he says.

Your eyes snap up to him. This will be the first time you will see Bucky in months, and the first time you will speak to him since he sent the papers. “Well he can come and get them from me himself,” you say. Steve knew you were going to play hardball and nodded before walking away. You untaped your fingers and headed out of the gym to shower.

Your soon to be ex-husband, who you are still madly in love with is coming to get the divorce papers. You had to make sure you looked amazing so you could show him what he is missing. You put a smile on your face and you removed the wedding band you still wore on your left ring finger. This was your chance to get him back.

Chapter 2

Well here is the start of something new. I am going based off of the relationship from the movie Twister, so if you haven’t seen it, don’t worry you will see what I mean. Enjoy! Feedback is appreciated!

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Story Taglist: @hommoturttle

#Bucky Barnes #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #Bucky angst #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x reader

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andolinii · 3 years

Text

𝐁𝐈𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐂𝐊 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒

❛ The mind of the subject will desperately struggle to create memories where none exist ❜ ❛ One goes into an experiment knowing one could fail. But one does not undertake an experiment knowing one has failed. ❜ ❛ At least that's something we can agree on. ❜ ❛ It does seem like a dreadful place to be stranded. ❜ ❛ Heaven, friend. Or as close as we'll see till Judgment Day. ❜ ❛ I’m afraid of you. ❜ ❛ We had a deal! Open this door, right now! ❜ ❛ So you expect me to shoulder the burden? ❜ ❛ Just 'cause the city flies don't mean it ain't got its share of fools. ❜ ❛ Heads? Or tails? ❜ ❛ I told you...I'm not gonna do it! Now go away. ❜ ❛ I never find that as satisfying as I'd imagined. ❜ ❛ I guess you're expecting me... Is anyone here? Hello? ❜ ❛ Why are you following me? ❜ ❛ Violence is not the answer! Blood must not be shed. ❜ ❛ Violence is not a foregone conclusion. ❜ ❛ I see every sin that blackens your soul. ❜ ❛ Not all debts can be repaid. ❜ ❛ Chin up. There's always next time. ❜ ❛ Prophecy is my business, as blood as yours ❜ ❛ thy crook is bent and thy path is twisted. ❜ ❛ It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you. Just sit down, and everything will be fine. ❜ ❛ Is this some kind of sales pitch? Because I am not interested. ❜ ❛ I'm a friend. I've come to get you out of here. ❜ ❛ I don't dance. C'mon, let's go. ❜ ❛ This will end in blood. But then again, it always does with you, doesn't it? It always ends in blood. ❜ ❛ Oh, can you smell that? I've never smelled anything like that before, have you? ❜ ❛ Give a man a little power, he falls in all kinds of love with himself. ❜ ❛ Coming here was your idea. ❜ ❛ that fall into the water did you no favors. I'll keep an eye out for something that might ease your pain. ❜ ❛ Knock it off! Will you stop it? Will you stop it! I'm not here to hurt you. ❜ ❛ If you're going to be a sore loser, then I shan't do this again. ❜ ❛ You're a roguish type, what does it look like? ❜ ❛ Bring us the girl and wipe away the debt. ❜ ❛ Where did you learn to pick locks? ❜ ❛ Whatever that was, it's got nothing to do with the job at hand. This job's getting worse all the time. ❜ ❛ What interest does a prophet have in a bunch of carnies and carousels? ❜ ❛ I never even heard of this place before I got here. ❜ ❛ They frown on gardens in my part of town. ❜ ❛ I don't really understand what I just saw back there, but it sure as hell looks like a shortcut to getting us killed. ❜ ❛ You've always been different, haven't you? You crave no glory. ❜ ❛ You see? You're a killer, like it or not. ❜ ❛ Now that you're out of yours, you might realize cages have their advantages. ❜ ❛ I can handle whatever comes along. Trust me. ❜ ❛ A choice is better than none. No matter what the outcome. ❜ ❛ What happened back there, that...that's not the last of it, is it? ❜ ❛ Maybe you're the man I remember, maybe not. ❜ ❛ There's survival...and then there's finding pleasure in the act. ❜ ❛ Look, you seem like a decent enough sort. That said, the less you know about me, the better. ❜ ❛ I'm leaving and there's naught you can do to stop me. ❜ ❛ Me busting you out, what do you think that was? Charity? ❜ ❛ I got no quarrel with you. ❜ ❛ Are you afraid of God? ❜ ❛ I never claimed to be no hero. ❜ ❛ There's already a fight. Only question is, which side are you on?❜ ❛ Just hold up for a minute! I'm not angry with you. ❜ ❛ You killed those people. I can't believe you did that...they're all dead... You killed those people. ❜ ❛ I have no need for one such as you. ❜ ❛ Don't get too comfortable with my company. You are a means to an end, no more. ❜ ❛ You’re either a great hero or the worst of scoundrels, depending on who's doing the telling. ❜ ❛ I am a believer, but I am not a fool. ❜ ❛ What is the most admirable creature on God's green earth? ❜ ❛ Does this strike you as good news? It doesn't strike me as good news. ❜ ❛ I don't much care for you… but I must admit, you know your way around a brawl. ❜ ❛ Now, now, All I ask is that you finish what you started. ❜ ❛ Son, I do say I like the cut of your chin. ❜ ❛ You know, when your name was first passed to me, I wasn't quite sure you were the man for the job. ❜ ❛ What could people have done to deserve to be locked up in a place like this? ❜ ❛ You're a lion. But you can't blame me for looking after my own interests, can you? ❜ ❛ Lions walk with lions, not hyenas. ❜ ❛ I killed them. They were dead. ❜ ❛ You must think me some sort of...freak. I must seem ridiculous. ❜ ❛ Like all bastards, we serve it best by smothering it in its crib. ❜ ❛ Let me tell you about sin. ❜ ❛ Are you going to just sit there? ❜ ❛ the biggest sin of all, the mother of all sins, is that we sit back and take it. ❜ ❛ In this world, you were a martyr. ❜ ❛ These folk need a better class of hero. ❜ ❛ This isn't our responsibility - none of it. ❜ ❛ Why, that sort of ambition will serve you well. ❜ ❛ I had a role in this catastrophe, if you want to pretend we're innocents in this, then that's your prerogative. ❜ ❛ I saw you die. Saw it with my own eyes. ❜ ❛ I know how this feels. Listen, I think you should talk to me. ❜ ❛ How do you wash away the things that you've done? ❜ ❛ Once people get their blood up, it ain't easy to settle it down again. ❜ ❛ This prophecy business... You don't think anyone can really see the future, do you? ❜ ❛ These are dire times and I could ever so use your aid. ❜ ❛ That is an oath you cannot keep. ❜ ❛ If you were to take me back...that's death. Or something so like it, I cannot tell the difference. ❜ ❛ A mother who abandons their child doesn't draw a lot of sympathy in my book. ❜ ❛ You just got dealt a bad hand. ❜ ❛ The only difference between past and present is semantics. ❜ ❛ If we could perceive time as it truly was… what reason would grammar professors have to get out of bed? ❜ ❛ You couldn't have known this would happen. ❜ ❛ One doesn't expect a picture of one's corpse to come across so lifelessly. ❜ ❛ Listen to me. what you've been through… ain't nobody in the world deserves that. ❜ ❛ We are gettin' outta here, you got it? And you're never gonna have to look back. ❜ ❛ Child! Child! You are the lie that spewed from my womb. You are the lie, the lie, the lie. ❜ ❛ Some men dream of money, some men dream of love. My father dreamt of a flood of fire. ❜ ❛ I can see all that would be, might be and must not be. ❜ ❛ Child, would you like to pray with me? ❜ ❛ All I ever wanted is to see you live up to your potential. ❜ ❛ Humanity wrote a bad check, and the flood was the only way to settle the accounts. ❜ ❛ You'll need to eat sooner or later. If you hold out, you'll just starve to death. ❜ ❛ God put his faith in men once, too. It seems that we have something in common: disappointment. ❜ ❛ Why do you ask ‘what’ when the delicious question is ‘when?’ ❜ ❛ All I can do is watch as what I set in motion slides into its terminal stage. ❜ ❛ Time rots everything, even hope. ❜ ❛ We're going to cure you. ❜ ❛ When the body cries out, the spirit listens. ❜ ❛ Do you hear that screaming? That is the sound of your interference. ❜ ❛ Is this where you start moralizing? You forget, I know you. ❜ ❛ What are you going to do to stop me?❜ ❛ You struggle against prophecy, like a stone loosed from a sling. ❜ ❛ I don't understand. I heard you screaming, I was… I was coming to get you. ❜ ❛ Do you think...it's possible to redeem the kind of things that we've done? ❜ ❛ We're doing this together, or I'm doing it alone. Either way, I need to know the thing's been done. ❜ ❛ Rejoice! Rejoice! Death has no sting. ❜ ❛ I may be the one who strikes you down, but you've always had a knack for self-destruction. Who's to say you won't beat me to the punch? ❜ ❛ Some sins can't be forgiven.❜ ❛ I'm not going to let you kill him. ❜ ❛ I won't abandon you. ❜ ❛ You come to wipe your slate clean, but time will walk backwards before you find redemption. ❜ ❛ Everything I've done...I've done to keep you safe. ❜ ❛ You killed him. What did he mean? Huh? You tell me, what did he mean? ❜ ❛ Just drop me off if you want to. This isn't your problem. ❜ ❛ I'm a fool. I've sent mighty armies to stop you; I've rained fire on you from above. ❜ ❛ Will you do this for me, just...just this one last thing? Please… ❜ ❛ You thought the streets were paved with gold, but they were paved with blood, sweat and tears. ❜ ❛ Look at that. Thousands of doors...opening all at once. My god, they're beautiful. ❜ ❛ Baptism is the rebirth of the spirit...but sometimes the mind gets in the way. ❜ ❛ There are a million million worlds. All different and all similar. Constants and variables. ❜ ❛ We swim in different oceans but land on the same shore. ❜ ❛ Are you ready to have your past erased? Are you ready to have your sins cleansed? Are you ready to be born again? ❜ ❛ I can see all the doors, and what's behind all the doors. ❜ ❛ Hey, the deal is off, you hear me? The deal is off! ❜ ❛ You think a dunk in the river's gonna change the things that I've done? ❜ ❛ If I don't get caught, it's going to be a very long time before we see each other. ❜ ❛ Do you hate your wickedness? ❜ ❛ Are we worth saving if we will not save ourselves? ❜

#sentence starter #sentence starters #rp meme #rp sentence starter

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

Text

Pastime (with good company) (ao3) (aka NMJ/WWX/LWJ) - part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, past 5, part 6, part 7, part 8

warning for adult content

The room Nie Mingjue led them to next had several rooms attached, each full of crafting materials.

“We’ll need some of your yang energy to bind you to the channel,” Nie Mingjue said briskly, guiding Wei Wuxian in the direction of one of the side rooms. “Not blood; that’s too common, and you want your saber – or whatever you eventually use – to be able to shed other people’s blood without being inclined to try to change masters. There’s a crafting vessel in the room by the corner that you can go fill up.”

“Well, that’s an unfortunate requirement,” Wei Wuxian said. He was feeling jittery; he thought it might be the uncomfortable sensation of having hope. “Since I can’t do that.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m serious! That’s the whole point of what I was explaining before,” Wei Wuxian argued, a little exasperated. “I can’t summon up yang energy, not without a golden core; even if I try to manipulate what little spiritual energy I have left in my meridians, it won’t respond – I’m telling you, I simply can’t do it.”

Nie Mingjue’s responding look was scathing.

“Are you or are you not a man?” he demanded. “Even if you can’t cultivate yang energy, you still have it, and you’re not without the more traditional methods to obtain it.”

Wei Wuxian was still thinking about his lack of a golden core, so it took him a moment – and Lan Wangji’s ears abruptly turning red – to realize what Nie Mingjue meant.

“Oh,” he said, and coughed. “Uh, yeah, I mean. There’s always – that type of yang energy.”

Yang energy at its core was associated with male energy – everyone had it, but obviously men had it more than women, centered in various places throughout the body and most specifically in the genitals. There was a reason they said that the Cold Spring in Gusu was good at quenching yang fire.

(He thought that Lan Wangji might be smirking at him somewhere behind his stern expression, but that would be childish and beneath him…and yet Wei Wuxian really hoped he was. He’d like to see Lan Wangji proud and smug and smirking; it would be incredibly hot.)

“Well, then? What are you waiting for?”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes went round. “Wait, you mean – now? Here? On demand?”

“At your age, I’m surprised a stiff breeze isn’t enough to get you hard,” Nie Mingjue said, rolling his eyes. “It certainly did for me; I could have hammered nails three times a day if I was so inclined. You seriously don’t think you can?”

“Not with all this pressure.” That was a little bit of a lie, actually, since Wei Wuxian had some tried-and-true fantasies currently starring the two men standing right in front of him that were guaranteed to work (especially with that intriguing comment about going three times a day…), but on the other hand the idea of going into the next room over and touching himself – while they were waiting –

Wei Wuxian couldn’t quite figure out if he was feeling mortified or turned on.

“It is necessary, Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said, and he was frowning in legitimate concern. “Without your yang energy, the channel will not be attuned to you – that would be even more dangerous than having no channel at all.”

“Just what I need,” Wei Wuxian grumbled. “More pressure.”

“It’s fine,” Nie Mingjue said. “I’ll help you with it.”

Wei Wuxian was abruptly hard as rock at the mere thought of it, but Lan Wangji was already shaking his head. “Mingjue-xiong! As the future husband, it would be inappropriate –”

“Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten the customs; I’m not going to touch him –”

A pity.

“– but there’s never been any restriction against future spouses engaging in correspondence. On the contrary, there’s a rich tradition of it.”

“Correspondence?” Lan Wangji asked, blinking, and Wei Wuxian couldn’t blame him – he had no idea what Nie Mingjue meant, either; weren’t they all in the same place right now? Who would he’d be writing to? “How…?”

“Wei Wuxian will go into the other room, as is appropriate, and I’m going to sit out here and compose a letter. I may need to read certain parts of it out loud, and in the meantime he’ll do what he has to do.” Nie Mingjue turned his fierce gaze on Wei Wuxian. “Any objections?”

“None whatsoever,” Wei Wuxian said at once. Like he was going to turn down a chance for – well, whatever this was.

Correspondence, apparently.

Erotic correspondence.

This was either going to be a disaster or fantastic.

“Then go.”

He went into the other room, then sighed when he saw the crafting bowl there, sitting there innocently as if it wasn’t the vessel that was supposed to contain his yang essence if you know what that means. A bare room, fit for crafting, after a wild and emotional night - it really wasn’t conductive to getting off on command.

It would have been so much easier if he just had his golden core – he could’ve filled the bowl with energy in a heartbeat, just using his willpower, and there’d be none of this embarrassing nonsense.

“Wei Wuxian,” he heard Nie Mingjue say from outside the door. “Greetings, best wishes, your health – the usual.”

Wei Wuxian hid a chuckle in his sleeve. That was a very political way of starting a letter; one could tell that Nie Mingjue was accustomed to writing letter as sect leader, rather than as himself, and the usual letter would have been filled with stock phrases dealing with each of those subjects. He must have some very long-suffering secretaries doing much of the official sect correspondence.

“I look forward to our wedding with great anticipation. It will be a pleasure to share that day with you, to bow to the heavens and the earth alongside you, to drink wine with you – but not as great a pleasure as it will be to take you back with me to my bed that night.”

Wei Wuxian swallowed, his chuckle dying in the back of his throat.

“You’ll be dressed in the finest clothing the Jiang sect has to offer, no doubt, and I will regret only that I cannot tear it off of you, tangle your arms and legs in it – I will have no choice instead but to draw you in towards me, to take your face between my palms, to kiss you until you’re breathless.”

He was breathless already.

“I will run my hands down your body as you laugh and try to pull off the clothing; you’ll make a mess of it, I’m sure, and in the end I’ll lose patience with your teasing. I’ll lift you up and throw you down on the bed, and when you try to get up I will press you down with a single hand. You’ll like that – I’ve see the way your eyes trail after me when I fight, the way your pupils contract when you see my strength. I’ll climb up on top of you, pin you between my thighs, and then I’ll kiss you again. Your mouth, your cheeks, your neck – all the parts of you that I can reach.”

Wei Wuxian’s hand dropped down to his waist. He didn’t reach inside his clothing, not yet, just rubbed a little, enjoying the anticipation.

“I’ll use my teeth and my tongue on you, and when your laughs have at last turned to moans and choked-off whimpers, I’ll turn you over and put you on your knees. That’s when you’ll see Wanji there, watching.”

Wei Wuxian shuddered, closing his eyes and imagining it. Lan Wangji there, a figure in white – no, not white, red. A bride’s clothes, red and gold like that fateful archery contest but so much more sumptuous. More decadent.

“He’s been waiting at the corner for his turn, like the good boy he is, but you can see from the way he stands that he wants you. I’ll whisper in your ear a question, asking if you want him, and you won’t be able to tear your eyes off of him as you say yes. I’ll ask you if you want to touch him, and you’ll say yes to that, too.”

He would.

“I’ll tell him to come forward, but just as he’s reaching for you, I’ll tell him to stop – to put his hands behind his back and stand at attention. I want you to touch him, instead. You’ll be on your knees on the bed in front of him, and you’ll reach out and undo his clothing. Not all the way, just enough to free his cock, and your mouth will go wet just looking at him.”

Wei Wuxian’s fingers fumbled to get his cock out, to start stroking himself, and Nie Mingjue was right. He was drooling just thinking about getting his mouth on Lan Wangji.

“I’ll let you touch him, as a start, and you’ll be so distracted by it that you don’t even realize that I’ve gotten you out of your clothing until you feel me pressed up against you and realize that you’re trapped between us – that you’re naked and we’re still dressed, like you’re some toy for our amusement. You’ll like that, moaning, rubbing up against us like the shameless thing you are, and lean forward to put your mouth on Wangji; I wouldn’t have said you could yet, but you’ve always been disobedient, haven’t you? But when you’re disobedient to me, that only means I have to punish you...but I think you’ll like that, too.”

Wei Wuxian’s hand was moving faster on his cock now, his other hand stuffed into his mouth to keep himself quiet. He wouldn’t interrupt this for all the gold in Lanling.

“Have you ever read a spring book, Wuxian? Not the usual ones that get passed around between boys, but the cutsleeve ones. I’ve often wondered: do you know what there is to be done between men? Do you think it’s all hands and mouths – or do you dream of getting fucked?”

Wei Wuxian nearly bit himself.

“Because that’s what I’m going to do to you. I’m going to have Wangji use that pretty little mouth of yours while I put my hand on you, working you as hard and good as you like it, and just when you think you’re about to get off, I’m going to stop, because you’re not going to be allowed to come, not until I have you splayed open on my cock. I’ll have my hands on your hips, tight enough to leave bruises, and by that time Wangji will be kneeling down to kiss you, his fingers tugging at your hair.”

Wei Wuxian knelt down, trying to mimic the position. Trying to think how it would feel, having something inside of him like he’d started imagining after reading that one spring book Jiang Cheng managed to find him only a few weeks before – having Nie Mingjue inside of him.

He’d be big, wouldn’t he? He’d feel full, even a little pained, but it’d be worth it to feel the heat of him.

“You won’t know what to do with your hands, probably try to touch yourself, disobedient as you are, and in the end Wangji will lose his patience with you, too; he’ll tear off that forehead ribbon of his and hand it to me, and I’ll tie your hands behind your back with it. You’ll be helpless, trapped between us: your back pressed up against me as I fuck you, and Wangji pressed up against your front, his cock against yours, rutting up against each other. He’ll have already come once, in your mouth – or maybe on your face, I think he’d like that – and so he’ll be steadier than you, have more endurance. You, though, you’ll be desperate, begging for more, for someone to touch you. You’ll want me to touch you – to touch you and him both.”

Yes. Yes, he would.

“I’ll wrap my hand around you, both of you, and you’ll be dripping all over my hand until it’s slick and the movement comes easy. And in the end you’ll do just as I said you would, you’ll come on my cock, come so hard that your entire body thrashes and you see stars. And you’ll feel me inside of you, too, as you squeeze me until I come as well, until Wangji does, until you’re dirty with our seed, covered with it – and then I tell you that we’re just getting started.”

Wei Wuxian whimpered when he came, all the beautiful mental images burning their way into his brain.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “Fuck – I – fuck.”

Nie Mingjue had enough mercy to pause for a few moments as Wei Wuxian gasped for air, trying to refill his suddenly empty lungs.

“Since we are not yet married, I cannot yet make into a reality what I have written to you, so my words will have to be a means, however insufficient, to express the full measure of my anticipation. Best regards, Nie Mingjue.” He paused, then added, with far too much composure for someone who’d just blown Wei Wuxian’s mind without laying a single finger on him, “Tell me you got some of that into the crafting vessel, Wei Wuxian.”

“I did,” Wei Wuxian croaked, and straightened his clothing a bit before heading back to the main room. As he did, he saw Lan Wangji walking out of another room – possibly a closet – and he looked as wrecked as Wei Wuxian felt. “I got it. Crafting vessel full. That was…wait, are you actually writing?”

“I did say it was correspondence,” Nie Mingjue said, his brush continued to slash its way across the page. His expression was only very barely not a smirk. “And I don’t lie. As soon as I finish this, we can get to forging…would the two of you like to wash up?”

Lan Wangji nodded his head in abrupt jerk, and suddenly Wei Wuxian’s cock, which he had been sure was spent, gave a twitch as if it was considering another round just at the thought of why Lan Wangji might also need to wash up after listening to that.

“Well,” he finally said as they splashed water on their faces and hands. “At least we know Nie Huaisang came by his porn addiction honestly?”

Lan Wangji looked disdainfully at him, but in the way that Wei Wuxian was starting to figure out meant that he was amused. “Mm,” he said. “But he lacks the voice.”

Wei Wuxian had to concede the point. Nie Mingjue’s voice was deep and steady, his words smooth and unhindered, the tone fierce and unyielding…if he could do nothing but listen to him, he’d die a happy man.

Except he wasn’t going to need to, because Lan Wangji and Nie Mingjue were going to help him, and he and Lan Wangji were going to help Nie Mingjue, and they were all going to get married so he’d be able to touch as well as hear.

“I,” he announced, “cannot wait to be married.”

Lan Wangji nodded in fervent agreement, and they went back out together to the main room where Nie Mingjue, damn him, didn’t even have the shame to look remotely ruffled by any of the preceding events.

“Good,” he said when he saw them. “Now we can get started in earnest.”

Wei Wuxian was never going to be able to hear that phrase again in his life.

#mdzs #wei wuxian #nie mingjue #lan wangji #my fic #my fics #pastime with good company #and now we get to the OTHER half of that scene

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emerald-echeveria-plant · 3 years

Text

Me to myself: Holy moly, when are you gonna stop creating treasure planet ocs?

Also me:

WARNING: mentions of murder, r*pe, miscarriage, racism, fighting, and torture.

Name:

Hatred

Actual Name:

Ailani Keahi Amore

Name pronunciation:

Ai-lan-i Kea-hi A-more

Personality:

hateful, spiteful, ambitious, unforgiving, stern, delusional, & hot-headed

Age:

Five hundred years old

Species:

Amoretian

Ethnicity:

Half Polynesian Half European

Gender:

Female

Pronouns:

She/her

Sexuality:

Asexual - Aromantic

Height:

6'9

Weight:

150

Looks:

Backstory:

(it's very long so prepare yourself for a looong read)

Many years ago, a girl by the name of Ailani was born on the planet Amoretia. Her father the prince of Amoretia and her mother a witch. Ailani was the product of an affair between the two. You see, her father was supposed to marry the neighboring princess that would end a war between both planets. Not wanting his affair to be discovered, he ordered an executioner to kill Ailani and her mother. With one chop of the axe came off her mother's head. As for Ailani. She was thrown in a river to drown. Fortunately, a local priest noticed the child being thrown. In an act of mercy, they pulled the poor thing out. Thinking that whoever throw them away must of not wanted the baby. So, the priest took in the small thing and had her raised by the nuns. They decided to give her the name Ailani. For the next fifteen years, Ailani was raised in a church by the nuns. They taught her how to read and write. Act like a proper lady. And had all the bible verses engraved into her mind. Ailani wasn't exactly raised in the most nurturing and loving place. The nuns didn't really raise Ailani as their own. They treated her fairly but it was obviously they didn't really like her. Reason why? They were massive racists. They didn't like her for her skin color so she was often met with abuse and bullying. They'd harshly critique her, push her down a flight of stairs, or straight up bully her. Regardless, Ailani kept her head up high. Being taught that revenge and wrath were sins. That she should love her enemy, no matter how hard they hurted her feelings.. or physically hurted her. Ailani would try to hide her anger but it was obvious that there cruelty was bothering her. Not wanting to commit the sin of wrath against the others, she decided to take her anger out on the forest. She'd spend hours during the night, punching trees. Often muttering to herself about her mistreatment. Sometimes, she'd end up breaking a few of the trees. It escalated from trees, to boulders, and a few times, beast's that would roam the forest. Of course, Ailani could never bring herself to killing the beast. So she'd up letting them go. Ailani ended up becoming physical stronger because of what she wad doing. Some of the civilians noticed this as whenever she wanted to do a simple task, like opening a door, she would accidentally break it off its hinges. Ailani would apologize right afterwards and try to fix it.

One day while attending church, a couple of theives came in, trying to rob the people attending. Ailani was not going to stand by and watch the people get their goods taken away from them. In an act of heroism, Ailani decided fight against the thieves. They laughed in her face and mocked her on how "a tiny little nun was gonna take down four men twice her size." They underestimated the fact that underneath that nun outfit was JACKED woman getting ready to knock their lights out. It took less than a few minutes for the four theives to beg for her to stop. Ailani told them to repent their ways before they were taken away to jail. Unfortunately, what happened right afterwards was Ailani getting kicked out of the church for "acting like a deranged hooligan." It was an obvious excuse for them just to kick her out but Ailani didn't seem to notice that. She was broken by this but instead of lashing out at them, she thanked them for having her there and wished them all well. Ailani moved away from her small village to seek work elsewhere.

As she was looking for work in the city, Quartzville, she stumbled across another problem. A pirates were invading the city as an act of revenge towards the king. Just as Ailani was going to leave to avoid further escalation, two wannabe "heros" came out to protect the citizens. One being a red haired young man by the name of "Sevi" and the other a valiante woman by the name of "Maribelle". They looked to be around Ailani age but clearly weren't as mature. The two tried to fight them off but embarrassingly failed. Ailani, not wanting to view their failure any longer, tried to leave once more. What stopped her was seeing the captain of the crew, stealing a toy away from a little girl then mocking her sadness. Angered by this, Ailani told the captain to knock it off. He mocked her as well which resulted in Ailani fighting him. She almost lost but by some sheer luck, managed to get in the final punch in, knocking him out. The royal guards arrived just on time in order to arrest the entire pirate crew. Some escaped but the majority weren't so lucky. Meanwhile, Ailani was cleaning the blood dropping down her nose when one of the wannabe heros walked up to her. It was Sevi. He seemed rather impressed by her strength. He introduced himself to her and asked if she would like to be apart of their hero group. Which only consisted of Sevi and Maribelle. Ailani wasn't sure if she should. She didn't know if in the eyes of God if this was the right thing to do. She has already been kicked out of her previous church for fighting and already felt guilty for committing another "sin". Sevi, realizing she was a religious person, decided to manipulate her by using her religion. Saying that "of course god would appreciate you for doing this" and that "you'll be just like all those heroes in the fairytal- I mean stories."

After being "convinced" it would be a virtuous act in the eyes of god, Ailani agreed to being apart of their group.

For the next few months, the trio would fight crimes and put criminals in jail. They were praised for their acts of heroism by the people of Amoretia. They'd often be gifted things like money, clothes, and alcohol. Mostly it'd be Maribelle and Sevi partaking in the gifts. Ailani on the other hand not so much. She didn't want compensation for her help, believing that it was wrong of her to get something in return. Strangely, Ailani would oftenly be the one doing most of the work. Sevi would often to get distracted trying to show off and Maribelle would let her anger get the best of her. Ailani would just get straight to the point. Shed be the one favored the most out of the three of them. Ailani didn't care that she was more liked, she's doing her job. Meanwhile, Sevi was growing jealous of the favoritism she was facing. Maribelle, could care less. She only wanted alcohol after all.

Sevi would make it obvious he was jealous towards Ailani. Ailani being kind-hearted would try to make him feel better. This would work sometimes but most of the time he'd brush her off. Ailani still persisted in making him happy. Secretly, Ailani had feelings for Sevi. She thought he was attractive, smart, and charismatic. This was the first person she was ever in love with. Someone she felt that understood her as a person. Ailani often felt that it was her fault for his unhappiness, so she tried to make him happy in any way she could. Realizing that Ailani would do anything for him, Sevi had some rather interesting thoughts he could do with her... Such as making her risk her life to get him things, convince the public that he deserves all the credit for their victories, and had her do some inappropriate favors for him. Ailani didn't care how stressful his tasks were. If it made him happy, she was happy. They ended up getting into a relationship when Sevi thought she was "good enough" for him. Ailani was enthralled with their relationship, finally getting to be with her one true love. She believed that they were meant to be.

Although their relationship came crashing down, when the trio went to a party at the king's castle. Their they met the king, the queen, and the princess, Angelina Amore. Angelina was a beautiful pink haired maiden with a bubbly attitude. Albeit she was incredibly spoiled, many men still wanted to marry her. One of those men being Sevi. It wasn't purely out of love but more out of wanting to be king. He immediately asked for the king for his daughters hand in marriage. The king turned him down, not wanting his daughter to marry a peasant. Although, he quickly reiterated his answer when seeing Ailani at the party. He couldn't believe it with his own eyes. Was that his daughter?? The same child he requested to be killed many years ago?? Alive? No. It couldn't be. After processing what he saw. He thought to himself that she shouldn't be kept alive. His reasoning being what if she revealed that he cheated on his wife? The resembles of her looking like him was far too much. He could be kicked from his throne if the people of Amoretia found out. Amoretians don't take cheating on your spouse very lightly... Deciding she shouldn't be kept alive. Yet the people loved her so much. Her disappearnce would obviously go under investigation... The king decided to make a deal with Sevi. If he got rid of Ailani, he could marry Angelina as a reward. Sevi agreed to the deal.

After the party, the king let the three heros stay in his castle for the night. As they all went to sleep, Sevi snuck out from his room and went to the servants room. He proceeded to slit their throats, killing them in their sleep. Sevi then went to Ailani room where he placed the knife he used in her bed. He proceeded to covered her hands in blood as well as the sheets. In the morning, the queen screamed at the sight of her servant staff lifeless bodies. Immediately, people started questioning who committed such a horrible crime. Then Ailani came out of her room, covered in blood. Seeing the blood, the queen blamed her for what happened. She wanted Ailani to be executed for her crimes. Ailani tried to reason with the queen, pleading that she was innocent. She even tried to have Sevi to convince her that it wasn't true. Sevi, turned his back on her and said she must have done it. The king stepped in between the two women, trying to calm both down. Albeit, the evidence was too far stacked against Ailani. The king sentenced her to life in prison on the planet Xevari. She was then dragged away by the guards and put on a ship where she'd be shipped off to Xevari. Xevari was one of the worst planets to be on. The entire planet was dedicated to being a prison for the worst possible inmates, who've committed the worst crimes. The guards would often treat the inmate like dirt. Some inmates were violently killed and there bodies were never found again. Fights would happen everyday over the smallest issues. It was quite literally a hell on Earth... As soon as Ailani arrived, she was treated no different than the other inmates. Even though she was on the worst planet in the eitherium, Ailani tried to be kind and thoughtful towards everyone. This only made the inmates and guards despise her. Ailani would be picked on by everyone in the jail. Didn't matter if they were a low ranking officer or a the biggest guy in courtyard. Ailani would be treated awful. Yet, she still persisted in being kind. One day a new inmate arrived. A special type of inmate was put in the prison. The inmate was a large hell beast of dragon with a skeletal appearance. It killed anything in it's path for killing was all that it knew. Ailani took interest in the creature. One night, she visited it. What she saw was the dragon with several scars and a spear piercing one of its wings. Ailani felt pity for it and immediately tried to help it. The dragon tried to attack her but after realizing she was helping him, stopped to let her pull it out. After that incident, Ailani formed a bond with the creature because they shared similar experiences. They were both tormented by the inmates and guards. There was unfortunately nothing that they could do about it. Ailani wasn't as strong and the dragon was chained down. But they had each other. Ailani decided to call the beast "Carrion". A play ok words as he seemed to always "carry on living". The dragon didn't understand puns buy none the less took the name regardless. The guards noticed her befriending the hell beast and decided that they weren't going to let her have a simple slice of happiness within this jail.

The guards decided to punish her by throwing her into a room with all the deranged lunatics. Saying, "try being kind to these crazies" before chuckling and walking off. What happened next was Ailani getting forced on by all the men in the room. It was a horrible experience and one that would finally be the breaking point for her. Once they were done with her, she was left in an emotional state. Hyperventilating and crying. Ailani questioned how she got herself into this situation. Why would god curse her to suffer through this fate? What did she do wrong? After questioning herself, Ailani was dragged back into her cell. Where another guard proceeded to rape her. The following days, Ailani would be in a state of shock over what happened. She had thoughts running through her mind still questioning her own religion and actions. Ailani hadn't realized this but she was pregnant at the time from being raped. She unfortunately went through an incredibly painful miscarriage in her cell. No one came to help her or take her to a doctor. While having a psychotic breakdown, Ailani finally came to the conclusion to all the roots of her problems. Love. Love was the reason why she was here... She has her love to the wrong people, she loved the wrong person, she loved... In that very moment, Ailani became a hateful person. She wanted revenge and she was going to get it. Ailani silently made plans on how she could escape from the prison. She went with the best possible outcome. When the guards weren't watching, Ailani took the pair of keys they had in their pocket. She unlocked herself from cell and immediately headed towards Carrion's cell. Ailani freed him from his chains. What followed next was mayhem. Carrion destroyed and killed multiple people as him and Ailani made their escape. No one could seem to stop the beast so they best thing to do was run... Eventually, they got off of Xevari with Carrion flying away while Ailani was on his back. Ailani told Carrion to go to the planet Amoretia. She promised him that there was plenty of victims to eat if he listened to her. That same day they were arriving to the planet was the day Sevi was marrying Angelina. The spoiled princess finally agreed to marry him after some persuasion from her parents. Just as Angelina was walking down the aisle to her new husband, Carrion flew down and devoured the princess. Carrion blew his acidic fire breath towards all the guests as Ailani went for the king and queen. She blamed them for her issues and wanted to kill them both. With one chop from an axe came off the queens head. The king desperately pleaded with Ailani to not kill him. He even said that he was her father in a last attempt to save himself. That only fueled Ailani's anger even more. She chopped off all his limbs and went for his head last. As for Sevi, he met the same fate as Angelina. Albeit more gruesome. Carrion tore the tiny man apart before eating him as well. Amoretia became disarray. All the royals were now dead. Who would take charge next..? Unfortunately it would be whoever was the last blood relative... Ailani.

No one wanted her to rule seeing as how she was responsible for their deaths in the first place. But they had to bow to her... You see only blood relatives could be in charge of Amoretia for they could yield the magical staff that protects Amoretia. Passed from the older generations, the staff was entrusted to the future generations to protect Amoretia. To use it's magic to help others in need. Ailani now knowing of this power, took it for herself. The staff dramatically changed from it's colors of white, red, and pink to black and red. Instead of using its power for good... She used it to torture others and make them suffer. Ailani changed her name once she got a hold of the staff... She changed it to Hatred. For that was the only feeling she could feel now. Hatred made it clear that she was the eitherium's savior and it needed a deep cleansing to get rid of love. She blamed love for all the problems that exist. Saying love was an unnatural feeling, a disease of sorts that plagued ones mind. Hatred was going to get rid of all love. In any way she could, no matter how hard it took.

Her tyranny started with her forcing her new ideology on the people of Amoretia. The people tried revolting against her but with the help of her new staff and her pet, Carrion, they were silenced into submission. She managed to "cleanse" Amoretia by getting rid of all love. Hatred went from Amoretia to neighboring planets in order to "cleanse" them as well. Multiple planets faced the same fate as Amoretia. Becoming incredibly miserable to live in. A war started between Hatred against the entire eitherium. No one wanted to believe this insane woman's ideology and they certainly weren't going to submit to her either without a fight. So the war went on, with both sides facing multiple casualties. Hatred went on with an ironfist, refusing to give up. She'd often take kidnapped soldiers and torture them back on Amoretia. Pictures of the soldier's mutaliated bodies surfaced with the intent of driving fear into her enemies hearts. Albeit as the war went on, she became very paranoid. She felt like someone was plotting to kill her. To stop her from cleansing the eitherium. She'd have frequent nightmares about it. Hatred refused to sleep or even eat anything in case it was poisoned. In order to ease her paranoia, she tried conducting a spell that would make her immortal... Hatred couldn't risk dying because she believed it was in her virtuous purpose to make all love disappear. After multiple months, she managed to make an elixir of immortality. She drank it which killed her minute but immediately brought her back to life. It caused her hair color to change to black and her eyes to a red hue. Now that she was immortality, there was absolutely nothing standing in her way. She conducted more spells so that her army could become stronger, faster, and easier to control. The armies against her, couldn't take it anymore. They were on the verge of giving up. It seemed like Hatred was going to win. The eitherium was going to become an utter hellhole from now on... Luckily, as Hatred planned her next attack, she was ambushed by enemy soldiers. Somehow they were able to kill Carrion and managed to get to her. Hatred didn't have her army with her and tried using her magic. Fortunately with there being more enemies against her, she was promptly knocked out and had her staff taken away from her. A couple of hours had passed and Hatred woke up with chains all around her. She was at the bottom of a well and above her were the leaders, looking down at her. They declared that this was her punishment for the crimes that she's committed. Hatred tried to argue that what she was doing was an act of good and that love was a true plague on the world. Not wanting to listen to her rambling anymore, the sealed up the well and left her there to rot..

The leaders of the other planets announced that Hatred was dead. They were lying but it was too keep the people safe and to not cause panic. Albeit, some rumors floated around saying that she wasn't actually dead.. perhaps she was still alive.. being kept somewhere.. and maybe... Just maybe.. she was planning on returning one day.

Likes:

Torture, heavy metal, red wine, writing, and "enlightening" others

Dislikes:

Love, children, making fun of her ideology, and essentially everything/everyone else in the universe

Weaknesses:

Anger; her own anger is her weakness. While she's on a rampage, she'll be too angry to realize what's happening around her.

Easy to manipulate; hatred makes it obvious what her goals are which can be taken advantage of by others.

Harm; she may be immortal but she can still have harm inflicted on her.

Ambition; Hatred will do anything it takes to get to her goal of destroying all love

Strengths:

Physical strength; she's so strong she can break your arm like a bar of twix.

Strategy; is skilled in battle strategy to know how to attack her enemy

Immortal; unfortunately she can't really die.

Pets:

Has a large hell beast of a dragon by the name of Carrion. It's a skeletal dragon that can firebreath acidic fire. He likes to tear the bones from his victims and add it to his own body in order to make himself look more fearsome and bigger.

Weapons:

Magical staff; a staff that which can perform any type of magic. Currently being occupied by the Terran royal family.

Duel swords; two swords used for the purpose of harming others

Other:

As an initiation to join her army, soldiers have masks sewn onto their faces. In her ideology they were giving themselves a new purpose so they needed a new identity.

#welp the Treasure Planet universe just turned into silent hill #oc insert #tw: rape #tw: death #tw: murder #tw: mental illness #tw: torture #tw: mutilation #Hatred

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geraskierficrecs · 4 years

Note

Could I possibly prompt some feral buffskier? Or inhuman Jaskier? :D Congrats on 3K!!!

Thanks for sending in a prompt! I decided to explore some nonhuman Jaskier that’s fully feral. I haven’t seen a whole lot of nonhuman Jaskier stories using Celtic mythology so I’m going to be a little self indulgent for this, but I hope you like it! (Bonus points if you can guess what Jaskier is before it’s revealed!)

_____________________________

The sound of a fight stirs him from his slumber.

Even trickling through the still waters of his lake, the sound of flesh meeting flesh is unmistakable. As is the soft, gritted noise of pain.

He shifts, body fluid and inky black as the waters around him. The water parts like a lover before him and he revels in the familiar sensation of power and control. These are his waters. His home.

So why was someone hunting in his territory?

Another sound--a scuffle and another grunt of effort--and Jaskier scents blood in the air, beginning to seep into the shallow waters on the shore. He drifts closer, the predator inside of him writhed beneath his skin. Eager. His mouth opened to run the tastes over his tongue as the water passed through the gills at his neck.

At the surface, he was careful not to create any ripples that might give away his presence, but he needn’t have bothered.

Two muscular forms were rolling across the ground at the shore sending mud flying and breaking the rushes that grew there. His ears pricked, equine head rising up out of the waterline when he saw the flash of steel dart through the air to land among the bushes farther back. Humanoid features twisted in a grimace of pain that matched the scream of triumph from the creature atop the warrior.

He didn’t need to scent the fire and ash in the air to know what beast was hunting so close to his home. Caorthannach, his lips shaped on a subvocal growl. A creature of heat and anguish that reveled in the agonies of others, relishing violence for violence’s sake. It never tired. All it knew was hunger and the desire to spread its own fury and pain into others.

Even worse, it had attracted a Witcher.

This, at least, was an exciting enough development to justify being disturbed from his sleep. Jaskier had heard the legends of the humans who’d been experimented on by their own kind to become monsters of their own. Faster, stronger than their kin and capable of standing against the darkest shadows that lurked in the night. His mother--before she’d chased him away from her nest--had warned him often not to ever attract the attention of humans and their terrifying guardians.

Now there was one only a few yards away, struggling to avoid the claws and flames of the demon above him. He should be afraid, angry even. The Caorthannach’s presence has ensured his relative peace in this remote lake was in danger. He should sink back into the depths and stay quiet until the Witcher left. Instead, he found himself moving closer, breathing in air filled with the scent of blood and more enticing notes of leather and sweat.

Something primitive within him stirs at the strength lingering in each block and shift beneath pale skin. It spoke of power, of promise.

Mate, his beast purred. Mine.

The thought was enough to make him go still. His kind weren’t known for their pairs except in rare occurrences. They were too wild, too territorial to risk allowing their kind to get close. Tales of true mates, of soul bonds and love, were just that--stories to cling to when the water’s cold seeped too far into your bones and your thoughts felt brittle enough to break under the strain.

The Caorthannach shrieks and lunges forward, teeth jagged and eager. The Witcher hisses out a breath full of pain, blood pooling in the dark mud. That quickly, any hesitance Jaskier feels disappears beneath the roar that rips free from his throat.

He rushes forward, shedding water like he sheds his skin in favor of legs designed for running over the earth. The demon has enough time to look up in surprise before Jaskier is on top of him. He lashes out with sharp hooves, connecting bodily and throwing the other beast away. He barely takes the time to glance back at his Witcher to ensure he was still breathing before he focuses on his prey.

It screams in rage at him, spitting a blast of fire like a wipe that burns the hide along his flank and adds to Jaskier’s fury. He bugles like a stallion and rears up to lash out with his front hooves, herding the beast towards the water where the mud slows its movements. The Caorthannach flounders, instinctively wanting to avoid the element that was so contrary to its own magic, but pinned by its furious attacker.

Jaskier is fierce with the knowledge that his mate is injured and still in danger only a few feet away. He wants to draw out the battle to repay the blood debt, but he is eager to see for himself that his Witcher is alright.

So he uses his size to his advantage. He kicks out, again and again, ignoring cuts and burns from when the demon strikes back. He herds it back into the water until stumbling in the knee-high waters. It flounders, trying to get back to shore, but it’s already too late.

Nothing can escape a Kelpie in its own waters.

The sounds of splashing slowly drown out the rush of fire and roar of the Caorthannach. Then there was only silence.

Slowly, Jaskier pulls himself up out of the water and stand at his full height. Water drips over dark hide and makes his muscles gleam in the moonlight. He watches the Witcher’s eyes widen and preens.

Like all Kelpies, he shifts between forms at will based on his needs. To his victims, he appears as a dark horse with a dripping mane with wild eyes. He prefers to target the bandits that prey on unwitting travelers on the main road, only occasionally going into town to find men and women whose homes were filled with muffled screams and cries of pain from small voices. He likes the stories that warn others to avoid the main roads at night.

When he’s bored, he appears as a lean man with dark hair and the same pale blue eyes that follow him between forms and visits the taverns. He likes the humans and their quick laughter and cheerful songs. It’s so different from his own lonely life, even if he feels like an outsider lurking among them.

Jaskier lets his human form step forward out of the water, uncaring that he steps out naked aside from the cuts left behind by his battle. They’ll disappear within a few days and he relishes the proof that he’d protected his mate.

The Witcher sits up, his fingers pressed against his side where blood is darkening his armor and his golden eyes wary. “Kelpie,” he murmurs quietly.

Jaskier tilts his head in acknowledgement. “Witcher.”

His voice is hoarse from lack of use, but the Witcher seems to enjoy it judging by the way his pupils dilate. He smiles and risks taking another step toward the man.

“Are you going to kill me too?” his mate asks and Jaskier feels pride war with instinctive horror at the bravery displayed.

“I would never hurt you.”

The Witcher frowns at the obvious honesty and runs his eyes over Jaskier in a cursory sweep for weapons. They both know he doesn’t need them, but Jaskier recognizes the habit for what it is. “Why did you help me?”

“The Caorthannach was in my territory,” he says, dodging the truth easily, “I would have killed it even if you did not.”

“No one told me there was a Kelpie in this region.”

“I avoid humans whenever I can.”

“But you chose to help me,” the warrior frowns at him and Jaskier buries a smile, “Do you know what I am?”

Mate, his beast growls.

Mine.

“A Witcher,” he says instead.

His mate looks more confused by the answer. His eyes flick to the silver sword Jaskier can smell in the bushes nearby. “I could kill you.”

Jaskier’s grin is quick with promise. “You won’t.” The Witcher shifts, wincing when the movement tugs at the wound he’s favoring along his side. Jaskier takes another step toward him, hand outstretched in a placating gesture. “I’m not going to hurt you either,” he promises.

“Why not?”

The derision is obvious in the man’s tone, but it’s the lingering weariness that makes something inside Jaskier want to reach out and wrap himself around the Witcher like a protective shield. He knows the Witcher has no reason to trust him at this point.

“The world has been unkind to you, Witcher,” Jaskier finally says, “but I have no quarrel with you. You smell of death and heroics--not cruelty.”

“Hmm.”

He smiles at the disgruntled sound, daring to close the distance between them and take a closer look at the wound in the other man’s side. “I’m Jaskier.”

For a moment, he thinks the Witcher will ignore the silent question in his eyes, but then:

“Geralt.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier repeats, enjoying the way the syllables taste. “Will you stay here? At least until you’re healed?”

Geralt watches him for a long, lingering moment. “I’ll stay.”

“Good.” The grin he gives him is near feral with excitement. “When you’re feeling better, I’ll give you a ride you’ll never forget.”

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aquilaofarkham · 4 years

Link

Much like his infamous father, the aesthetic of Alucard has changed tremendously since Castlevania’s start in the 1980s—yet certain things about him never change at all. He began as the mirror image of Dracula; a hark back to the days of masculine Hammer Horror films, Christopher Lee, and Bela Lugosi. Then his image changed dramatically into the androgynous gothic aristocrat most people know him as today. This essay will examine Alucard’s design, the certain artistic and social trends which might have influenced it, and how it has evolved into what it is now.

☽ Read the full piece here or click the read more for the text only version ☽

INTRODUCTION

Published in 2017, Carol Dyhouse’s Heartthrobs: A History of Women and Desire examines how certain cultural trends can influence what women may find attractive or stimulating in a male character. By using popular archetypes such as the Prince Charming, the bad boy, and the tall dark handsome stranger, Dyhouse seeks to explain why these particular men appeal to the largest demographic beyond mere superfluous infatuation. In one chapter titled “Dark Princes, Foreign Powers: Desert Lovers, Outsiders, and Vampires”, she touches upon the fascination most audiences have with moody and darkly seductive vampires. Dyhouse exposits that the reason for this fascination is the inherent dangerous allure of taming someone—or something—so dominating and masculine, perhaps even evil, yet hides their supposed sensitivity behind a Byronic demeanour.

This is simply one example of how the general depiction of vampires in mainstream media has evolved over time. Because the concept itself is as old as the folklore and superstitions it originates from, thus varying from culture to culture, there is no right or wrong way to represent a vampire, desirable or not. The Caribbean Soucouyant is described as a beautiful woman who sheds her skin at night and enters her victims’ bedrooms disguised as an aura of light before consuming their blood. In Ancient Roman mythology there are tales of the Strix, an owl-like creature that comes out at night to drink human blood until it can take no more. Even the Chupacabra, a popular cryptid supposedly first spotted in Puerto Rico, has been referred to as being vampiric because of the way it sucks blood out of goats, leaving behind a dried up corpse.

However, it is a rare thing to find any of these vampires in popular media. Instead, most modern audiences are shown Dyhouse’s vampire: the brooding, masculine alpha male in both appearance and personality. A viewer may wish to be with that character, or they might wish to become just like that character.

This sort of shift in regards to creating the “ideal” vampire is most evident in how the image of Dracula has been adapted, interpreted, and revamped in order to keep up with changing trends. In Bram Stoker’s original 1897 novel of the same name, Dracula is presented as the ultimate evil; an ancient, almost grotesque devil that ensnares the most unsuspecting victims and slowly corrupts their innocence until they are either subservient to him (Renfield, the three brides) or lost to their own bloodlust (Lucy Westenra). In the end, he can only be defeated through the joined actions of a steadfast if not ragtag group of self-proclaimed vampire hunters that includes a professor, a nobleman, a doctor, and a cowboy. His monstrousness in following adaptations remains, but it is often undercut by attempts to give his character far more pathos than the original source material presents him with. Dracula has become everything: a monster, a lover, a warrior, a lonely soul searching for companionship, a conquerer, a comedian, and of course, the final boss of a thirty-year-old video game franchise.

Which brings us to the topic of this essay; not Dracula per say, but his son. Even if someone has never played a single instalment of Castlevania or watched the ongoing animated Netflix series, it is still most likely that they have heard of or seen the character of Alucard through cultural osmosis thanks to social media sites such as Twitter, Instagram, Reddit, and the like. Over the thirty-plus years in which Castlevania has remained within the public’s consciousness, Alucard has become one of the most popular characters of the franchise, if not the most popular. Since his debut as a leading man in the hit game Castlevania: Symphony of the Night, he has taken his place beside other protagonists like Simon Belmont, a character who was arguably the face of Castlevania before 1997, the year in which Symphony of the Night was released. Alucard is an iconic component of the series and thanks in part to the mainstream online streaming service Netflix, he is now more present in the public eye than ever before whether through official marketing strategies or fanworks.

It is easy to see why. Alucard’s backstory and current struggles are quite similar to the defining characteristics of the Byronic hero. Being the son of the human doctor Lisa Țepeș, a symbol of goodness and martyrdom in all adaptations, and the lord of all vampires Dracula, Alucard (also referred to by his birth name Adrian Fahrenheit Țepeș) feels constantly torn between the two halves of himself. He maintains his moralistic values towards protecting humanity, despite being forced to make hard decisions, and despite parts of humanity not being kind to him in turn, yet is always tempted by his more monstrous inheritance. The idea of a hero who carries a dark burden while aspiring towards nobility is something that appeals to many audiences. We relate to their struggles, cheer for them when they triumph, and share their pain when they fail. Alucard (as most casual viewers see him) is the very personification of the Carol Dyhouse vampire: mysterious, melancholic, dominating, yet sensitive and striving for compassion. Perceived as a supposed “bad boy” on the surface by people who take him at face value, yet in reality is anything but.

Then there is Alucard’s appearance, an element that is intrinsically tied to how he has been portrayed over the decades and the focus of this essay. Much like his infamous father, the aesthetic of Alucard has changed tremendously since Castlevania’s start in the 1980s—yet certain things about him never change at all. He began as the mirror image of Dracula; a hark back to the days of masculine Hammer Horror films, Christopher Lee, and Bela Lugosi. Then his image changed dramatically into the androgynous gothic aristocrat most people know him as today. This essay will examine Alucard’s design, the certain artistic and social trends which might have influenced it, and how it has evolved into what it is now. Parts will include theoretical, analytical, and hypothetical stances, but it’s overall purpose is to be merely observational.

What is Castlevania?

We start this examination at the most obvious place, with the most obvious question. Like all franchises, Castlevania has had its peaks, low points, and dry spells. Developed by Konami and directed by Hitoshi Akamatsu, the first instalment was released in 1986 then distributed in North America for the Nintendo Entertainment System the following year. Its pixelated gameplay consists of jumping from platform to platform and fighting enemies across eighteen stages all to reach the final boss, Dracula himself. Much like the gameplay, the story of Castlevania is simple. You play as Simon Belmont; a legendary vampire hunter and the only one who can defeat Dracula. His arsenal includes holy water, axes, and throwing daggers among many others, but his most important weapon is a consecrated whip known as the vampire killer, another iconic staple of the Castlevania image.

Due to positive reception from critics and the public alike, Castlevania joined other titles including Super Mario Bros., The Legend of Zelda, and Mega Man as one of the most defining video games of the 1980s. As for the series itself, Castlevania started the first era known by many fans and aficionados as the “Classicvania” phase, which continued until the late 1990s. It was then followed by the “Metroidvania” era, the “3-D Vania” era during the early to mid 2000s, an reboot phase during the early 2010s, and finally a renaissance or “revival” age where a sudden boom in new or re-released Castlevania content helped boost interest and popularity in the franchise. Each of these eras detail how the games changed in terms of gameplay, design, and storytelling. The following timeline gives a general overview of the different phases along with their corresponding dates and instalments.

Classicvania refers to Castlevania games that maintain the original’s simplicity in gameplay, basic storytelling, and pixelated design. In other words, working within the console limitations of the time. They are usually side-scrolling platformers with an emphasis on finding hidden objects and defeating a variety of smaller enemies until the player faces off against the penultimate boss. Following games like Castlevania 2: Simon’s Quest and Castlevania 3: Dracula’s Curse were more ambitious than their predecessor as they both introduced new story elements that offered multiple endings and branching pathways. In Dracula’s Curse, there are four playable characters each with their own unique gameplay. However, the most basic plot of the first game is present within both of these titles . Namely, find Dracula and kill Dracula. Like with The Legend of Zelda’s Link facing off against Ganon or Mario fighting Bowser, the quest to destroy Dracula is the most fundamental aspect to Castlevania. Nearly every game had to end with his defeat. In terms of gameplay, it was all about the journey to Dracula’s castle.

As video games grew more and more complex leading into the 1990s, Castlevania’s tried and true formula began to mature as well. The series took a drastic turn with the 1997 release of Castlevania: Symphony of the Night, a game which started the Metroidvania phase. This not only refers to the stylistic and gameplay changes of the franchise itself, but also refers to an entire subgenre of video games. Combining key components from Castlevania and Nintendo’s popular science fiction action series Metroid, Metroidvania games emphasize non-linear exploration and more traditional RPG elements including a massive array of collectable weapons, power-ups, character statistics, and armor. Symphony of the Night pioneered this trend while later titles like Castlevania: Circle of the Moon, Castlevania: Harmony of Dissonance and Castlevania: Aria of Sorrow solidified it. Nowadays, Metroidvanias are common amongst independent developers while garnering critical praise. Hollow Knight, Blasphemous, and Bloodstained: Ritual of the Night are just a few examples of modern Metroidvanias that use the formula to create familiar yet still distinct gaming experiences.

Then came the early to mid 2000s and many video games were perfecting the use of 3-D modelling, free control over the camera, and detailed environments. Similar to what other long-running video game franchises were doing at the time, Castlevania began experimenting with 3-D in 1999 with Castlevania 64 and Castlevania: Legacy of Darkness, both developed for the Nintendo 64 console. 64 received moderately positive reviews while the reception for its companion was far more mixed, though with Nintendo 64’s discontinuation in 2002, both games have unfortunately fallen into obscurity.

A year later, Castlevania returned to 3-D with Castlevania: Lament of Innocence for the Playstation 2. This marked Koji Igarashi’s first foray into 3-D as well as the series’ first ever M-rated instalment. While not the most sophisticated or complex 3-D Vania (or one that manages to hold up over time in terms of graphics), Lament of Innocence was a considerable improvement over 64 and Legacy of Darkness. Other 3-D Vania titles include Castlevania: Curse of Darkness, Castlevania: Judgment, and Castlevania: The Dracula X Chronicles for the PSP, a remake of the Classicvania game Castlevania: Rondo of Blood which merged 3-D models, environments, and traditional platforming mechanics emblematic of early Castlevania. It is important to note that during this particular era, there were outliers to the changing formula that included Castlevania: Portrait of Ruin and Castlevania: Order of Ecclesia, both games which added to the Metroidvania genre.

Despite many of the aforementioned games becoming cult classics and fan favourites, this was an era in which Castlevania struggled to maintain its relevance, confused by its own identity according to most critics. Attempts to try something original usually fell flat or failed to resonate with audiences and certain callbacks to what worked in the past were met with indifference.

By the 2010s, the Castlevania brand changed yet again and stirred even more division amongst critics, fans, and casual players. This was not necessarily a dark age for the franchise but it was a strange age; the black sheep of Castlevania. In 2010, Konami released Castlevania: Lords of Shadow, a complete reboot of the series with new gameplay, new characters, and new lore unrelated to previous instalments. The few elements tying it to classic Castlevania games were recurring enemies, platforming, and the return of the iconic whip used as both a weapon and another means of getting from one area to another. Other gameplay features included puzzle-solving, exploration, and hack-and-slash combat. But what makes Lords of Shadow so divisive amongst fans is its story. The player follows Gabriel Belmont, a holy warrior on a quest to save his deceased wife’s soul from Limbo. From that basic plot point, the storyline diverges immensely from previous Castlevania titles, becoming more and more complicated until Gabriel makes the ultimate sacrifice and turns into the very monster that haunted other Belmont heroes for centuries: Dracula. While a dark plot twist and a far cry from the hopeful endings of past games, the concept of a more tortured and reluctant Dracula who was once the hero had already been introduced in older Dracula adaptations (the Francis Ford Coppola directed Dracula being a major example of this trend in media).

Despite strong opinions on how much the story of Lords of Shadow diverged from the original timeline, it was positively received by critics, garnering an overall score of 85 on Metacritic. This prompted Konami to continue with the release of Castlevania: Lords of Shadow—Mirror of Fate and Castlevania: Lords of Shadow 2. Mirror of Fate returned to the series’ platforming and side-scrolling roots with stylized 3-D models and cutscenes. It received mixed reviews, as did its successor Lords of Shadow 2. While Mirror of Fate felt more like a classic stand-alone Castlevania with Dracula back as its main antagonist, the return of Simon Belmont, and the inclusion of Alucard, Lords of Shadow 2 carried over plot elements from its two predecessors along with new additions, turning an already complicated story into something more contrived.

Finally, there came a much needed revival phase for the franchise. Netflix’s adaptation of Castlevania animated by Powerhouse Animation Studios based in Austen, Texas and directed by Samuel Deats and co-directed by Adam Deats aired its first season during July 2017 with four episodes. Season two aired in October 2018 with eight episodes followed by a ten episode third season in March 2020. Season four was announced by Netflix three weeks after the release of season three. The show combines traditional western 2-D animation with elements from Japanese anime and is a loose adaptation of Castlevania 3: Dracula’s Curse combined with plot details from Castlevania: Curse of Darkness, Castlevania: Symphony of the Night, and original story concepts. But the influx of new Castlevania content did not stop with the show. Before the release of season two, Nintendo announced that classic protagonists Simon Belmont and Richter Belmont would join the ever-growing roster of playable characters in their hit fighting game Super Smash Bros. Ultimate. With their addition also came the inclusion of iconic Castlevania environments, music, weapons, and supporting characters like Dracula and Alucard.

During the year-long gap between seasons two and three of the Netflix show, Konami released Castlevania: Grimoire of Souls, a side-scrolling platformer and gacha game for mobile devices. The appeal of Grimoire of Souls is the combination of popular Castlevania characters each from a different game in the series interacting with one another along with a near endless supply of collectable weapons, outfits, power-ups, and armor accompanied by new art. Another ongoing endeavor by Konami in partnership with Sony to bring collective awareness back to one of their flagship titles is the re-releasing of past Castlevania games. This began with Castlevania: Requiem, in which buyers received both Symphony of the Night and Rondo of Blood for the Playstation 4 in 2018. This was followed the next year with the Castlevania Anniversary Collection, a bundle that included a number of Classicvania titles for the Playstation 4, Xbox One, Steam, and Nintendo Switch.

Like Dracula, the Belmonts, and the vampire killer, one other element tying these five eras together is the presence of Alucard and his various forms in each one.

Masculinity in 1980s Media

When it comes to media and various forms of the liberal arts be it entertainment, fashion, music, etc., we are currently in the middle of a phenomenon known as the thirty year cycle. Patrick Metzgar of The Patterning describes this trend as a pop cultural pattern that is, in his words, “forever obsessed with a nostalgia pendulum that regularly resurfaces things from 30 years ago”. Nowadays, media seems to be fixated with a romanticized view of the 1980s from bold and flashy fashion trends, to current music that relies on the use of synthesizers, to of course visual mass media that capitalizes on pop culture icons of the 80s. This can refer to remakes, reboots, and sequels; the first cinematic chapter of Stephen King’s IT, The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance, and both Ghostbusters remakes are prime examples—but the thirty year cycle can also include original media that is heavily influenced or oversaturated with nostalgia. Netflix’s blockbuster series Stranger Things is this pattern’s biggest and most overt product.

To further explain how the thirty year cycle works with another example, Star Wars began as a nostalgia trip and emulation of vintage science fiction serials from the 1950s and 60s, the most prominent influence being Flash Gordon. This comparison is partially due to George Lucas’ original attempts to license the Flash Gordon brand before using it as prime inspiration for Star Wars: A New Hope and subsequent sequels. After Lucas sold his production company Lucasfilms to Disney, three more Star Wars films were released, borrowing many aesthetic and story elements from Lucas’ original trilogy while becoming emulations of nostalgia themselves.

The current influx of Castlevania content could be emblematic of this very same pattern in visual media, being an 80s property itself, but what do we actually remember from the 1980s? Thanks to the thirty year cycle, the general public definitely acknowledges and enjoys all the fun things about the decade. Movie theatres were dominated by the teen flicks of John Hughes, the fantasy genre found a comeback due to the resurgence of J.R.R. Tolkien’s classic works along with the tabletop role-playing game Dungeons & Dragons, and people were dancing their worries away to the songs of Michael Jackson, Whitney Houston, and Madonna. Then there were the things that most properties taking part in the thirty year cycle choose to ignore or gloss over, with some exceptions. The rise of child disappearances, prompting the term “stranger danger”, the continuation of satanic panic from the 70s which caused the shutdown and incarceration of hundreds of innocent caretakers, and the deaths of thousands due to President Reagan’s homophobia, conservatism, and inability to act upon the AIDS crisis.

The 1980s also saw a shift in masculinity and how it was represented towards the public whether through advertising, television, cinema, or music. In M.D. Kibby’s essay Real Men: Representations of Masculinity in 80s Cinema, he reveals that “television columns in the popular press argued that viewers were tired of liberated heroes and longed for the return of the macho leading man” (Kibby, 21). Yet there seemed to be a certain “splitness” to the masculine traits found within fictional characters and public personas; something that tried to deconstruct hyper-masculinity while also reviling in it, particularly when it came to white, cisgendered men. Wendy Somerson further describes this dichotomy: “The white male subject is split. On one hand, he takes up the feminized personality of the victim, but on the other hand, he enacts fantasies of hypermasculinized heroism” (Somerson, 143). Somerson explains how the media played up this juxtaposition of “soft masculinity”, where men are portrayed as victimized, helpless, and childlike. In other words, “soft men who represent a reaction against the traditional sexist ‘Fifties man’ and lack a strong male role model” (Somerson, 143). A sort of self-flagellation or masochism in response to the toxic and patriarchal gender roles of three decades previous. Yet this softening of male representation was automatically seen as traditionally “feminine” and femininity almost always equated to childlike weakness. Then in western media, there came the advent of male madness and the fetishization of violent men. Films like Scarface, Die Hard, and any of Arnold Schwarzenegger’s filmography helped to solidify the wide appeal of these hyper-masculine and “men out of control” tropes which were preceded by Martin Scorcese’s critical and cult favourite Taxi Driver.

There were exceptions to this rule; or at the very least attempted exceptions that only managed to do more harm to the concept of a feminized man while also doubling down on the standard tropes of the decade. One shallow example of this balancing act between femininity and masculinity in 80s western media was the hit crime show Miami Vice and Sonny, a character who is entirely defined by his image. In Kibby’s words, “he is a beautiful consumer image, a position usually reserved for women; and he is in continual conflict with work, that which fundamentally defines him as a man” (Kibby, 21). Therein lies the problematic elements of this characterization. Sonny’s hyper-masculine traits of violence and emotionlessness serve as a reaffirmation of his manufactured maleness towards the audience.

Returning to the subject of Schwarzenegger, his influence on 80s media that continued well into the 90s ties directly to how fantasy evolved during this decade while also drawing upon inspirations from earlier trends. The most notable example is his portrayal of Robert E. Howard’s Conan the Barbarian in the 1982 film directed by John Milius. Already a classic character from 1930s serials and later comic strips, the movie (while polarizing amongst critics who described it as a “psychopathic Star Wars, stupid and stupefying”) brought the iconic image of a muscle-bound warrior wielding a sword as half-naked women fawn at his feet back into the collective consciousness of many fantasy fans. The character and world of Conan romanticizes the use of violence, strength, and pure might in order to achieve victory. This aesthetic of hyper-masculinity, violence, and sexuality in fantasy art was arguably perfected by the works of Frank Frazetta, a frequent artist for Conan properties. The early Castlevania games drew inspiration from this exact aesthetic for its leading hero Simon Belmont and directly appropriated one of Frazetta’s pieces for the cover of the first game.

Hammer Horror & Gender

Conan the Barbarian, Frank Frazetta, and similar fantasy icons were just a few influences on the overall feel of 80s Castlevania. Its other major influence harks back to a much earlier and far more gothic trend in media. Castlevania director Hitoshi Akamatsu stated that while the first game was in development, they were inspired by earlier cinematic horror trends and “wanted players to feel like they were in a classic horror movie”. This specific influence forms the very backbone of the Castlevania image. Namely: gothic castles, an atmosphere of constant uncanny dread, and a range of colourful enemies from Frankenstein’s Monster, the Mummy, to of course Dracula. The massive popularity and recognizability of these three characters can be credited to the classic Universal Pictures’ monster movies of the 1930s, but there was another film studio that put its own spin on Dracula and served as another source of inspiration for future Castlevania properties.

The London-based film company Hammer Film Productions was established in 1934 then quickly filed bankruptcy a mere three years later after their films failed to earn back their budget through ticket sales. What saved them was the horror genre itself as their first official title under the ‘Hammer Horror’ brand The Curse of Frankenstein starring Hammer regular Peter Cushing was released in 1957 to enormous profit in both Britain and overseas. With one successful adaptation of a horror legend under their belt, Hammer’s next venture seemed obvious. Dracula (also known by its retitle Horror of Dracula) followed hot off the heels of Frankenstein and once again starred Peter Cushing as Professor Abraham Van Helsing, a much younger and more dashing version of his literary counterpart. Helsing faces off against the titular fanged villain, played by Christopher Lee, whose portrayal of Dracula became the face of Hammer Horror for decades to come.

Horror of Dracula spawned eight sequels spanning across the 60s and 70s, each dealing with the resurrection or convoluted return of the Prince of Darkness (sound familiar?) Yet these were not the same gothic films pioneered by Universal Studios with fog machines, high melodrama, and disturbingly quiet atmosphere. Christopher Lee’s Dracula and Bela Lugosi’s Dracula are two entirely separate beasts. While nearly identical in design (slicked back hair, long flowing black cape, and a dignified, regal demeanor), Lugosi is subtle, using only his piercing stare as a means of intimidation and power—in the 1930s, smaller details meant bigger scares. For Hammer Horror, when it comes time to show Dracula’s true nature, Lee bares his blood-covered fangs and acts like an animal coveting their prey. Hammer’s overall approach to horror involved bigger production sets, low-cut nightgowns, and bright red blood that contrasted against the muted, desaturated look of each film. And much like the media of 1980, when it came to their characters, the Dracula films fell back on what was expected by society to be ‘masculine’ and ‘feminine’ while also making slight commentary on those very preconceived traits.

The main theme surrounding each male cast in these films is endangered male authority. Dracula and Van Helsing are without a doubt the most powerful, domineering characters in the story, particularly Helsing. As author Peter Hutchings describes in his book Hammer & Beyond: The British Horror Film, “the figure of the (male) vampire hunter is always one of authority, certainty, and stability (...) he is the only one with enough logical sense to know how to defeat the ultimate evil, thus saving the female characters and weaker male characters from being further victimized” (Hutchings, 124). The key definition here is ‘weaker male characters’. Hammer’s Dracula explores the absolute power of male authority in, yet it also reveals how easily this authority can be weakened. This is shown through the characters of Jonathan Harker and Arthur Holmwood, who differ slightly from how they are portrayed in Stoker’s novel. While Dracula does weaken them both, they manage to join Helsing and defeat the monster through cooperation and teamwork. In fact, it is Harker who lands one of the final killing strikes against Dracula. However, the Jonathan Harker of Hammer’s Dracula is transformed into a vampire against his will and disposed of before the finale. His death, in the words of Hutchings, “underlines the way in which throughout the film masculinity is seen (...) as arrested, in a permanently weakened state” (Hutchings, 117).

This theme of weakened authority extends to Holmwood in a more obvious and unsettling manner. In another deviation from the source material, Lucy Westenra, best friend to Mina Murray and fiancé to Arthur Holmwood, is now Holmwood’s sister and Harker’s fiancé. Lucy’s story still plays out more or less the same way it did in the novel; Dracula routinely drains her of blood until she becomes a vampire, asserting his dominance both physically and mentally. This according to Hutchings is the entirety of Dracula’s plan; a project “to restore male authority over women by taking the latter away from the weak men, establishing himself as the immortal, sole patriarch” (Hutchings, 119). Meanwhile, it is Helsing’s mission to protect men like Arthur Holmwood, yet seems only concerned with establishing his own dominance and does nothing to reestablish Holmwood’s masculinity or authority. Due to the damage done by Dracula and the failings of Helsing, Holmwood never regains this authority, even towards the end when he is forced to murder his own sister. His reaction goes as follows: “as she is staked he clutches his chest, his identification with her at this moment, when she is restored to a passivity which is conventionally feminine, suggesting a femininity within him which the film equates with weakness” (Hutchings, 117).

So Van Helsing succeeds in his mission to defeat his ultimate rival, but Dracula is victorious in his own right. With Jonathan Harker gone, Lucy Holmwood dead, and Arthur Holmwood further emasculated, he succeeds in breaking down previous male power structures while putting himself in their place as the all-powerful, all-dominant male presence. This is the very formula in which early Hammer Dracula films were built upon; “with vampire and vampire hunter mutually defining an endangered male authority, and the woman functioning in part as the site of their struggle (...) forged within and responded to British social reality of the middle and late 1950s” (Hutchings, 123).

Alucard c. 1989

As for Castlevania’s Dracula, his earliest design takes more from Christopher Lee’s portrayal than from Bela Lugosi or Bram Stoker’s original vision. His appearance on the first ever box art bears a striking resemblance to one of the most famous stills from Horror of Dracula. Even in pixelated form, Dracula’s imposing model is more characteristic of Christopher Lee than Bela Lugosi.

Being his son, it would make logical sense for the first appearance of Alucard in Castlevania 3: Dracula’s Curse to resemble his father. His 1989 design carries over everything from the slick dark hair, sharp claws, and shapeless long cloak but adds a certain juvenile element—or rather, a more human element. This makes sense in the context of the game’s plot. Despite being the third title, Dracula’s Curse acts as the starting point to the Castlevania timeline (before it was replaced by Castlevania: Legends in 1997, which was then retconned and also replaced by Castlevania: Lament of Innocence in 2003 as the definitive prequel of the series). Set nearly two centuries before Simon Belmont’s time, Dracula’s Curse follows Simon’s ancestor Trevor Belmont as he is called to action by the church to defeat Dracula once he begins a reign of terror across Wallachia, now known as modern day Romania. It is a reluctant decision by the church, since the Belmont family has been exiled due to fear and superstition surrounding their supposed inhuman powers.

This is one example of how despite the current technological limitations, later Castlevania games were able to add more in-depth story elements little by little beyond “find Dracula, kill Dracula”. This began as early as Castlevania 2: Simon’s Quest by giving Simon a much stronger motivation in his mission and the inclusion of multiple endings. The improvements made throughout the Classicvania era were relatively small while further character and story complexities remained either limited or unexplored, but they were improvements nonetheless.

Another example of this slight progress in storytelling was Castlevania 3’s introduction of multiple playable characters each with a unique backstory of their own. The supporting cast includes Sypha Belnades, a powerful sorceress disguised as a humble monk who meets Trevor after he saves her from being frozen in stone by a cyclops, and Grant Danasty, a pirate who fell under Dracula’s influence before Trevor helped him break free from his curse. Then there is of course Adrian Fahrenheit Țepeș who changed his name to Alucard, the opposite of Dracula, as a symbol of rebellion against his tyrannical father. Yet Castlevania was not the first to conceptualize the very character of Alucard; someone who is the son of Dracula and whose name is quite literally the backwards spelling of his fathers’. That idea started with Universal’s 1943 venture Son of Dracula, a sequel to the 1931 classic that unfortunately failed to match the original’s effective atmosphere, scares, and story. In it, Alucard is undoubtedly the villain whereas in Dracula’s Curse, he is one of the heroes. Moral and noble, able to sway Trevor Belmont’s preconceptions of vampiric creatures, and with an odd sympathy for the monster that is his father. Alucard even goes as far as to force himself into an eternal slumber after the defeat of Dracula in order to “purge the world of his own cursed bloodline” (the reason given by Castlevania: Symphony of the Night’s opening narration).

When it comes to design, Castlevania’s Alucard does the curious job of fitting in with the franchises’ established aesthetic yet at the same time, he manages to stand out the most—in fact, all the main characters do. Everyone from Trevor, Sypha, to Grant all look as though they belong in different stories from different genres. Grant’s design is more typical of the classic pirate image one would find in old illustrated editions of Robinson Crusoe’s Treasure Island or in a classic swashbuckler like 1935’s Captain Blood starring Errol Flynn. Sypha might look more at home in a Dungeons & Dragons campaign or an early Legend of Zelda title with a large hood obscuring her facial features, oversized blue robes, and a magical staff all of which are commonplace for a fantasy mage of the 1980s. Trevor’s design is nearly identical to Simon’s right down to the whip, long hair, and barbarian-esque attire which, as mentioned previously, was taken directly from Conan the Barbarian.

Judging Alucard solely from official character art ranging from posters to other promotional materials, he seems to be the only one who belongs in the gothic horror atmosphere of Dracula’s Curse. As the physically largest and most supernaturally natured of the main cast, he is in almost every way a copy of his father—a young Christopher Lee’s Dracula complete with fangs and cape. Yet his path as a hero within the game’s narrative along with smaller, near missable details in his design (his ingame magenta cape, the styling of his hair in certain official art, and the loose-fitting cravat around his neck) further separates him from the absolute evil and domination that is Dracula. Alucard is a rebel and an outsider, just like Trevor, Sypha, and Grant. In a way, they mirror the same vampire killing troupe from Bram Stoker’s novel; a group of people all from different facets of life who come together to defeat a common foe.

The son of Dracula also shares similar traits with Hammer’s Van Helsing. Same as the Belmonts (who as vampire hunters are exactly like Helsing in everything except name), Alucard is portrayed as one of the few remaining beacons of masculinity with enough strength, skill, and logical sense who can defeat Dracula, another symbol of patriarchal power. With Castlevania 3: Dracula’s Curse, we begin to see Alucard’s dual nature in aesthetics that is automatically tied to his characterization; a balance that many Byronic heroes try to strike between masculine domination and moralistic sensitivity and goodness that is often misconstrued as weakly feminine. For now though, especially in appearance, Alucard’s persona takes more from the trends that influenced his allies (namely Trevor and Simon Belmont) and his enemy (Dracula). This of course would change drastically alongside the Castlevania franchise itself come the 1990s.

Gender Expression & The 1990s Goth Scene

When a person sees or hears the word “gothic”, it conjures up a very specific mental image—dark and stormy nights spent inside an extravagant castle that is host to either a dashing vampire with a thirst for blood, vengeful ghosts of the past come to haunt some unfortunate living soul, or a mad scientist determined to cheat death and bring life to a corpse sewn from various body parts. In other words, a scenario that would be the focus of some Halloween television special or a daring novel from the mid to late Victorian era. Gothicism has had its place in artistic and cultural circles long before the likes of Mary Shelley, Edgar Allan Poe, Bram Stoker, and even before Horace Walpole’s The Castle of Otranto, a late 18th century novel that arguably started the gothic horror subgenre.

The term itself originated in 17th century Sweden as a descriptor of the national romanticism concerning the North Germanic Goths, a tribe which occupied much of Medieval Götaland. It was a period of historical revisionism in which the Goths and other Viking tribes were depicted as heroic and heavily romanticised. Yet more than ever before, gothicism is now associated with a highly specific (and in many ways personal) form of artistic and gender expression. It started with the golden age of gothic Medieval architecture that had its revival multiple centuries later during the Victorian era, then morphed into one of the darkest if not melodramatic literary movements, and finally grew a new identity throughout the 1990s. For this portion, we will focus on the gothic aesthetic as it pertains to fashion and music.

Arguably, the advent of the modern goth subculture as it is known nowadays began with the 1979 song “Bela Lugosi’s Dead” from Northampton’s own rock troupe Bauhaus. The overall aesthetic of the song, accompanying live performances, and the band itself helped shaped the main themes of current gothicism including, but not limited to, “macabre funeral musical tone and tempo, to lyrical references to the undead, to deep voiced eerie vocals, to a dark twisted form of androgyny in the appearance of the band and most of its following” (Hodkinson, 35-64). This emphasis on physical androgyny in a genre that was predominantly focused on depictions of undeniable masculinity was especially important to the 80s and 90s goth scene. Bauhaus opened the gates in which other goth and post-punk bands gained popularity outside of underground venues, including The Cure, Siouxsie and the Banshees, and Southern Death Cult. Much like Bauhaus’ “twisted form of androgyny”, these other bands pioneered a romantic yet darkly feminine aesthetic which was then embraced by their fans. It wasn’t until the producer of Joy Division Tony Wilson along with members from Southern Death Cult and U.K. Decay mentioned the word “goth” in passing that this growing musical and aesthetic subculture finally had a name for itself.

The goth movement of the 1990s became an interesting mesh of nonconformity and individual expression while also emphasising the need for a mutual connection through shared interests and similar aesthetics. Unique social outsiders looking for a sense of community and belonging—not unlike Stoker’s vampire hunting troupe or the main cast of Castlevania 3: Dracula’s Curse. Paul Hodkinson author of Goth: Identity, Style and Subculture describes the ways in which goths were able to expand their social networking while making the subculture their own. In order to gain further respect and recognition within the community, “they usually sought to select their own individual concoction from the range of acceptable artefacts and themes and also to make subtle additions and adaptations from beyond the established stylistic boundaries” (Hodkinson, 35-64). This was one of the ways in which the goth subculture was able to grow and evolve while maintaining some typical aesthetics. Those aesthetics that had already become gothic staples as far back as classic Victorian horror included crucifixes, bats, and vampires; all of which were presented by young modern goths, as Hodkinson puts it, “sometimes in a tongue-in-cheek self-conscious manner, sometimes not” (Hodkinson, 35-64).

The vampire, as it appeared in visual mass media of the time, was also instrumental to the 90s gothic scene, reinforcing certain physical identifiers such as long dark hair, pale make-up, and sometimes blackened sunglasses. This was especially popular amongst male goths who embodied traditional gothic traits like dark femininity and androgyny, which had already been long established within the subculture.

As always, television and film did more to reinforce these subcultural trends as recognizable stereotypes, usually in a negative manner, than it did to help people embrace them. In media aimed towards a primarily teenage and young adult demographic, if a character did not possess the traditional traits of a hyper-masculine man, they instead fit into two different molds; either the neurotic geek or the melodramatic, moody goth. However, there were forms of media during the 90s that did manage to embrace and even relish with no sense of irony in the gothic aesthetic.

Two films which helped to build upon the enthusiasm for the vampire were Francis Ford Coppola’s lavish adaptation of Stoker’s novel titled Bram Stoker’s Dracula starring Gary Oldman in the titular role of Dracula and another adaptation of a more recent gothic favourite among goths, Anne Rice’s Interview with the Vampire with Brad Pitt and Tom Cruise. The majority of the male goth scene especially emulated Oldman’s portrayal of Dracula when in the film he transforms into a much younger, more seductive version of himself in order to blend in with society, everything down to the shaded Victorian sunglasses and the long flowing hair; a vision of classic, sleek androgyny combined with an intimidating demeanor without being overly hyper-masculine.

Primarily taking place during the 18th and 19th century, Interview with the Vampire (the film and the original novel) also encouraged this very same trend, helping to establish European aristocratic elements into the gothic aesthetic; elements such as lace frills, finely tailored petticoats, corsets, and a general aura of delicacy.

Going back to Hodkinson’s findings, he states that “without actually rendering such categories insignificant, goth had from its very beginnings been characterized by the predominance, for both males and females, of particular kinds of style which would normally be associated with femininity” (Hodkinson, 35-64). However, it is important to acknowledge that the western goth subculture as described in this section, while a haven for various forms of gender expression, placed heavy emphasis on thin, white bodies. Over the years, diversity within the community has been promoted and encouraged, but rarely do we see it as the forefront face of gothicism.

The Japanese Goth Scene & Ayami Kojima

Modern gothicism was not limited to North America or Europe. In Japan, the subculture had evolved into its own form of self-expression through clothing and music that took inspiration from a variety of 18th and 19th century themes (mostly originating from European countries). Yet despite the numerous western influences, the eastern goth community during the 1990s and early 2000s embraced itself as something unique and wholly Japanese; in other words, different from what was happening within the North American movement at the same time. To refresh the memory, western goth culture focused primarily on the macabre that included completely black, moody wardrobes with an air of dark femininity. Japanese goth culture maintained those feminine traits, but included elements that were far more decadent, frivolous, and played further into the already established aristocratic motifs of gothicism. This created a new fashion subculture known as Gothic Lolita or Goth-Loli (no reference to the Vladimir Nabokov novel Lolita or the themes presented within the text itself).

In Style Deficit Disorder: Harajuku street fashion, a retrospective on the history of modern Japanese street fashion, the Goth-Loli image is described as “an amalgam of Phantom of the Opera, Alice in Wonderland, and Edgar Allan Poe” (Godoy; Hirakawa, 160). It was an aesthetic that took the western notion of “gothic” to higher levels with a heavier emphasis on opulence and an excessive decorative style—think Gothic meets Baroque meets Rococo. Teresa Younker, author of Lolita: Dreaming, Despairing, Defying, suggests that during the early years of the Gothic Lolita movement, it acted as a form of escapism for many young Japanese individuals searching for a way out of conformity. She states that “rather than dealing with the difficult reality of rapid commercialization, destabilization of society, a rigid social system, and an increasingly body-focused fashion norm, a select group of youth chose to find comfort in the over-the-top imaginary world of lace, frills, bows, tulle, and ribbons”. One pioneer that helped to bring the Goth-Loli image at the forefront of Japanese underground and street fashion the likes of Harajuku was the fashion magazine Gothic & Lolita Bible. Launched in 2001 by Index Communication and Mariko Suzuki, each issue acted as a sort of catalogue book for popular gothic and lolita trends that expanded to art, music, manga, and more.

According to Style Deficit Disorder, during this time when Gothic & Lolita Bible had helped bring the subculture into a larger collective awareness, the Goth-Loli image became “inspired by a yearning for something romantic overseas (...) and after taking on the “Harajuku Fashion,” ended up travelling overseas, while remaining a slightly strange fashion indigenous to Japan” (Godoy; Hirakawa, 137). Then came KERA Maniac, another magazine launched in 2003 that had “even darker clothing and international style points and references, such as features on the life and art of Lewis Carroll, Japanese ball-jointed dolls, or interviews with icons like Courtney Love” (Godoy; Hirakawa, 140). The fashion trends that both Gothic & Lolita Bible and KERA Maniac focused on also found popularity amongst visual kei bands which were usually all male performers who began sporting the very same ultra-feminine, ultra-aristocratic Goth-Loli brands that were always featured in these magazines.

Similar to traditional Kabuki theatre, “this visual-kei placed great importance on the gorgeous spectacle created onstage” (Godoy; Hirakawa, 135). One particular visual kei performer of the early 2000s that became Gothic & Lolita Bible’s biggest and most frequent collaborator was Mana. Best known for his musical and fashion career, Mana describes his onstage persona, merging aristocratic goth with elegant gothic lolita, as “either male or female but it is also neither male nor female. It is both devil and angel. The pursuit of a middle ground” (Godoy; Hirakawa, 159).

Opulence, decadence, and femininity with a dark undertone are all apt terms to describe the image of Japanese gothicism during the 90s and early aughts. They are also perfect descriptors of how artist Ayami Kojima changed the face of Castlevania from a franchise inspired by classic horror and fantasy to something more distinct. As a self-taught artist mainly working with acrylics, India ink, and finger smudging among other methods, 1997’s Castlevania: Symphony of the Night was Kojima’s first major title as the lead character designer. Over the years she worked on a number of separate video games including Samurai Warriors and Dynasty Warriors, along with other Castlevania titles. Before then, she made a name for herself as a freelance artist mainly working on novel covers and even collaborated with Vampire Hunter D creator Kikuchi Hideyuki for a prequel to his series. Kojima has been dubbed by fans as “the queen of Castlevania” due to her iconic contributions to the franchise.

Kojima’s influences cover a wide array of themes from the seemingly obvious (classic horror, shounen manga, and East Asian history) to disturbingly eclectic (surgery, body modification, and body horror). It is safe to assume that her resume for Castlevania involves some of her tamer works when compared to what else is featured in her 2010 artbook Santa Lilio Sangre. Yet even when her more personal art pieces rear into the grotesquely unsettling, they always maintain an air of softness and femininity. Kojima is never afraid to show how the surreal, the intense, or the horrifying can also be beautiful. Many of her pieces include details emblematic of gothicism; skulls, bloodied flowers, the abundance of religious motifs, and lavish backgrounds are all commonplace, especially in her Castlevania art. Her models themselves—most often androgynous men with sharp cheekbones, flowing hair, and piercing gazes—look as though they would fit right into a gothic visual kei band or the pages of Gothic & Lolita Bible.

Castlevania: Harmony of Despair was the final Castlevania game Kojima worked on, as well as her last game overall. It wasn’t until 2019 when she reappeared with new pieces including promotional artwork for former Castlevania co-worker Koji Igarashi’s Bloodstained: Ritual of the Night and a collaboration with Japanese musician Kamijo on his newest album. Her work has also appeared in the February 2020 issue of TezuComi, depicting a much lighter and softer side of her aesthetic. Ayami Kojima may have moved onto other projects, but the way in which she forever influenced the Castlevania image is still being drawn upon and emulated to this day.

Alucard c. 1997

There were actually three versions of Alucard during the 1990s, each of which were products of their time for different reasons. The first example is not only the most well known amongst fans and casual onlookers alike, but it is also the one design of Alucard that manages to stand the test of time. Ayami Kojima redesigned a number of classic Castlevania characters, giving them the gothic androgynous demeanour her art was known for. Most fans will say with some degree of jest that once Kojima joined Konami, Castlevania grew to look less like the masculine power fantasy it started as and more like a bishounen manga. No matter the differing opinions on the overall stylistic change of the series, Kojima’s reimagining of Alucard for Castlevania: Symphony of the Night is undoubtedly iconic. His backstory has more or less remained the same, carried over from Castlevania 3: Dracula’s Curse. After killing his father Dracula, Alucard, unable to fully process his actions or his bloodline, decides to force himself into a centuries long slumber in order to rid the world of his dark powers. Symphony of the Night begins with the Byronic dhampir prince waking up after nearly 300 years have passed once Dracula’s castle mysteriously reappears in close proximity to his resting place. The only difference this time is there seems to be no Belmont to take care of it, unlike previous years when Dracula is resurrected. Determined to finish what was started during the 15th century, the player takes Alucard on a journey throughout the castle, which has now become larger and more challenging than past incarnations.

Despite being somewhat of a direct sequel to Dracula’s Curse, Symphony’s Alucard is not the same dhampir as his 80s counterpart. Gone are any similarities to Bela Lugosi or Christopher Lee; now Alucard bears more of a resemblance to Anne Rice’s own literary muse Lestat de Lioncourt from her ongoing Vampire Chronicles. Instead of slicked back dark hair, thick golden locks (which were originally black to match his father) cascade down Alucard’s figure, swaying with his every pixelated movement. Heeled leather boots, a black coat with gold embellishments along with an abnormally large collar underneath a flowing cape, and a high-collared cravat replace the simplistic wardrobe of 80s Alucard—from a traditional, minimalist goth mirroring his father’s masculinity to an extravagant, aristocratic goth with his own intense, almost macabre femininity.

With the early Metroidvanias came the inclusion of detailed character portraits designed by Ayami Kojima which would appear alongside a dialogue box to further establish the illusion of the characters speaking to each other. Symphony of the Night was one of the first titles where players got to see Alucard’s ingame expression and it looked exactly as it did on every piece of promotional poster and artwork. The same piercing glare, furrowed brow, and unshakeable inhuman determination, the sort that is also reflected in his limited mannerisms and character—all of which are displayed upon an immaculate face that rarely if ever smiles. Just by looking at his facial design nearly hidden behind locks of hair that always seems meticulously styled, it is clear that Alucard cannot and will not diverge from his mission. The only moment in the game when his stoic facade breaks completely is when he faces off against the Succubus, who tempts Alucard to give into his vampiric nature by disguising herself as his deceased mother Lisa. Yet even then he sees through her charade and, depending on the player’s ability, quickly disposes of her.

Despite his delicate feminine features, emotional softness is not one of Alucard’s strongest suits in Symphony. Though for someone in his position, someone who must remain steadfast and succeed in his goal or else fail the rest of humanity, where little else matters, Alucard’s occasional coldness (a trait that would return in recent Castlevania instalments) makes sense. There is a scene near at the climax of the game where he exposits to the other main protagonists Richter Belmont and Maria Renard about how painful it felt to destroy his father a second time, but he reframes it as a lesson about the importance of standing up against evil rather than an admission of his own vulnerability. However, he does choose to stay in the world of mortal humans instead of returning to his coffin (depending on which ending the player achieves).

The second 90s version of Alucard is a curious case of emulation, drawing inspiration from both Kojima’s redesign and other Japanese art styles of the 1990s. Castlevania Legends was released for the Game Boy the exact same year as Symphony of the Night and acted as a prequel to Dracula’s Curse, following its protagonist Sonia Belmont as she traverses through Dracula’s castle alongside Alucard and becomes the first Belmont in history to defeat him. It was then retconned after the release of Castlevania: Lament of Innocence in 2003 due to how its story conflicted with the overall timeline of the series. As with most of the earliest Game Boy titles, the ingame graphics of Legends are held back by the technological limitations, but the box art and subsequent character concepts reveal the game’s aesthetic which seems to take the most inspiration from other Japanese franchises of the decade. The biggest example would be Slayers, a popular comedic fantasy series that included light novels, manga, and anime. Legends Alucard is portrayed in this particular animated style, yet his design itself is very similar to how he looks in Symphony of the Night with only minor exceptions.

The third and arguably most obscure 90s Alucard comes from the animated children’s show Captain N: The Game Master, a crossover that brought together popular Nintendo characters like Mega Man, Kid Icarus, and Simon Belmont. The episodes were presented as traditional monsters of the week, meaning each one focused on a brand new story or environment usually taken from Nintendo games. One episode that aired in 1993 centered on Castlevania and featured a comedic and parodied version of Alucard. Although the episode took elements from Dracula’s Curse, Alucard was meant to be a stereotypical representation of rebellious 90s youth, i.e. an overemphasis on skateboarding and “radical” culture. A colorful, kid-friendly version of the character that was never meant to be taken seriously; much like the rest of the show.

Out of the three variations, Ayami Kojima’s Alucard is the one that made the biggest and longest lasting impact on Castlevania. Redesigning an iconic franchise or character always comes with its own risks and gambles. In the case of Symphony of Night, the gamble made by Kojima—and by extension Konami and director Koji Igarashi—paid off. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said regarding Alucard’s next major change as a character and an image.

Lords of Shadow

“What motivates a man to confront the challenges that most of us would run from?” This is a question put forth by Castlevania: Lords of Shadow, the first attempt by Konami to reinvigorate and inject new life into the Castlevania brand name by completing rebooting the universe. Starting from scratch as it were. Originally, Lords of Shadow seemed to have no connection to the Castlevania franchise. Announced by Konami during a games convention in 2008, this was meant to give more attention and not distract from the upcoming Castlevania: Judgment. However, merely a year later at Electronic Entertainment Expo, it was revealed that Lords of Shadow was in fact the next major step that Konami was taking with Castlevania. From its announcement and early trailers, the game was already generating a healthy amount of media buzz due to its updated graphics, design, and gameplay. Having Konami alumni, video game auteur, and creator of the critically acclaimed Metal Gear series Hideo Kojima attached to the project also helped to generate initial hype for this new phase of Castlevania (though it should be noted that Kojima was only credited as a consultant and advisor for the Lords of Shadow development team). After nearly a decade of near hits, substantial misses, and a lack of focus for the franchise, Castlevania had once again become one of the most highly anticipated upcoming games. To quote gaming news and reviews website GamesRadar+ at the time, “this could be a megaton release”.

And it was—so to speak. As mentioned in previous sections, the first Lords of Shadow did relatively well, garnering critical and commercial success. By November of 2010, nearly one million copies had sold in North America and Europe alone. While not a monumental achievement or a record breaker, Lords of Shadow soon became the highest selling Castlevania game of all time. But enough time has passed since its release and nowadays, fans look back upon this reinvented Castlevania timeline pushed by Konami with mixed feelings, some more negative than others.

The main criticism is that when it comes to gameplay, environment, and story, Lords of Shadow changed too much from its original source material. Change is not always a terrible thing especially in regards to long-running franchises and Castlevania had already gone through one massive upheaval with Symphony of the Night. Although the difference is how well that dramatic change was executed and how players reacted to it. For many, Lords of Shadow felt less like the game it was supposed to be emulating and more like other action hack-and-slashers of the time. The gameplay didn’t feel like Castlevania, it felt like Devil May Cry. Elements of the story didn’t feel like Castlevania, they felt like God of War. Each boss fight didn’t feel like Castlevania, they felt like Shadow of the Colossus (a frequent comment made by fans). Despite the familiar elements from past games that made their way into this new instalment, for many, Lords of Shadow was too little of Castlevania and too much of everything else that surrounded its development. Meanwhile, the afformented familiar elements seemed like attempts at fanservice in order to make sure that longtime fans felt more at home.

Does the game and its following sequels still hold any merit in terms of aesthetic and story? They do, especially when it comes to its style. Lords of Shadow, its midquel Mirror of Fate, and the sequel Lords of Shadow 2 are not unappealing games to look at. When examining the concept art of characters, enemies, and environments, one could argue that the Lords of Shadow series has some of the most visually striking Castlevania art in the series. The monster designs in particular take on a much grander, ambitious, and menacing presence that take inspiration from various mythological and biblical sources, the best example being Leviathan from Lords of Shadow 2.

By the 2010s, AAA video games in general were going through a sort of golden age with titles such as Assassin’s Creed 2, Batman: Arkham Asylum, and Red Dead Redemption among many others. Not only were the stories and gameplay mechanics improving by ten folds, so too were the graphical capacities that each game could uphold. Due to technological advancements, Castlevania had the chance to become more detailed and fleshed out than before. The locations of Lords of Shadow and its sequels, which ranged from gothic castles, to modern decrepit cities, to fantastical forests, grew lusher and more opulent while the monsters evolved past the traditional skeletons of the series into far more imposing nightmarish creatures.

The first game along with Mirror of Fate kept themselves fairly grounded in their respective environments. Nearly every character looks as though they firmly belong in the gothic fantasy world they inhabit. Gabriel Belmont and the rest of the Brotherhood of Light are dressed in robes reminiscent of medieval knights (with a few non-historical embellishments) while the vampiric characters of Carmilla and Laura dress in the same manner that typical vampires would. However, a new location known as Castlevania City was introduced in Lords of Shadow 2, modelled after a 21st century metropolitan cityscape. Characters with designs more suited to God of War or Soul Calibur intermingle with NPCs dressed in modern clothing, further highlighting the clash of aesthetics. While this is not the first time Castlevania has featured environments populated with humans, the constant shifting between a dark urban landscape with more science fiction elements than fantasy and the traditional gothic setting of Dracula’s castle can feel like whiplash.

The Lords of Shadow timeline was an ambitious attempt by Konami to try and give fans a Castlevania experience they had not seen before. New concepts that were previously unexplored or only alluded to in past games were now at the forefront. Yet the liberties that each game took with established Castlevania lore, both in terms of story and design, were perhaps too ambitious. The biggest example is the choice to have the Belmont protagonist turn into Dracula through a combined act of despair and selflessness, but Alucard went through a number of changes as well. Transforming him from the golden-haired aristocrat of the 90s and 2000s into an amalgamation of dark fantasy tropes.

Alucard c. 2014

After the success of Castlevania: Symphony of the Night, Alucard reappeared in a number of following titles, most of which depicted him in his typical black and gold wardrobe. There were exceptions, including Castlevania: Aria of Sorrow and its direct sequel Castlevania: Dawn of Sorrow where he adopts the alias of Genya Arikado, an agent for a futuristic Japanese organization dedicated to stopping any probable resurrections of Dracula. Because of this need to appear more human and hide his true heritage, Genya’s appearance is simple and possibly one of Ayami Kojima’s most minimalistic character designs; a black suit, shoulder length black hair, and the job is done. In Dawn of Sorrow, Alucard briefly appears as himself, drawn in a less detailed anime style that softens his once intensely stoic expression first seen in Symphony. The next exception is Castlevania: Judgment, a fighting game where characters from separate games and time periods are brought together to face off against one another. Konami brought on Takeshi Obata (who by then was famously known for his work on Death Note) as the lead character designer and in many regards had a similar aesthetic to Ayami Kojima, creating lavish gothic pieces that were heavily detailed and thematic.

Like Kojima, Obata was given free range to reconceptualize all of the characters appearing in Judgment with little to no remaining motifs from previous designs. This included Alucard, who dons a suit of silver armor and long white hair to match it. Judgment’s Alucard marked a turning point for the character in terms of appearance; a gradual change that was solidified by Lords of Shadow.

This is where things get complicated. While Castlevania could be considered a horror series solely based on its references, aesthetic, and monsters, nearly every iteration whether it comes down to the games or other forms of media tends to veer more towards the dark fantasy genre. Edward James and Farah Mendleson’s Cambridge Companion to Fantasy Literature describe the distinction between traditional horror and dark fantasy as a genre “whose protagonists believe themselves to inhabit the world of consensual mundane reality and learn otherwise, not by walking through a portal into some other world, or by being devoured or destroyed irrevocably, but by learning to live with new knowledge and sometimes with new flesh” (James; Mendleson, 218). While horror is a genre of despair, directly confronting audience members with the worst of humanity and the supernatural, “the protagonist of dark fantasy comes through that jeopardy to a kind of chastened wisdom” (James; Mendleson, 217).

Dark fantasy is ultimately a genre of acceptance (i.e. characters accepting a horrible change or embracing the world they have been forcibly thrown into), but it also represents a rejection of traditional tropes implemented by the works of Tolkien or the Brothers Grimm, thus defining itself by that very same act of rejection. An example of this is the theme of failure, which is common in many dark fantasy stories. There are far more unhappy or bittersweet endings than happy ones while the construction of the classic hero’s journey hinges more on all the possible ways in which the protagonist could fail in their quest.

Going off from this definition, the Lords of Shadow timeline fits squarely into the dark fantasy genre, especially concerning its two leading men. We already know that Gabriel Belmont sacrifices his humanity in order to become Dracula, but what happens to his son borders on a Greek tragedy. Before the “deaths” of Gabriel and Maria, they had a son named Trevor who was immediately taken into the care of the Brotherhood of Light and kept away from his father in order to protect him. Years later when Trevor is an adult with a family of his own, he vows to defeat Dracula for bringing shame and dishonor upon the Belmont bloodline. Yet when their eventual confrontation happens, Dracula easily beats Trevor who, on the verge of death, reveals the truth about his connection to the lord of vampires. In a desperate act of regret, Dracula forces Trevor to drink his blood and places him into a coffin labeled “Alucard” where he will seemingly rest for eternity.

Time passes and Trevor Belmont—now transformed into the vampire Alucard—awakens, just as he did at the beginning of Dracula’s Curse and Symphony of the Night. During his disappearance, his wife Sypha Belnades was killed by Dracula’s creatures, orphaning their son Simon Belmont. The two eventually meet and work together to stop Dracula, but Alucard cannot bring himself to tell Simon the truth.

Despite a well-deserved happy ending in Lords of Shadow 2 (he and his father reconcile before going off to presumably live a peaceful life), the character of Trevor/Alucard is built upon the same themes of failure and learning to accept terrible change found within dark fantasy. His design is especially reminiscent of one of the darkest and most tortured protagonists in the genre, Michael Moorcock’s Elric from his Elric of Melniboné series. First appearing in the June 1961 issue of Science Fantasy, he stands out amongst most sword and sorcery heroes, different from the hypermasculinity of Conan the Barbarian for his embittered personality, philosophical motifs, and memorable design. Elric is constantly described as looking deathly pale with skin “the color of a bleached skull; and the long hair which flows below his shoulders is milk-white” (Moorcock, 3) and a body that needs a steady stream of potions in order to function properly or else he will gradually grow weaker, nearer towards the edge of death—more a corpse than a human being.

Lords of Shadow Alucard is very much like a walking corpse as well. His long hair is the same milk-white tone as Elrics’, his skin is deprived of any real color, and his open chest outfit reveals a body that is both robust yet emaciated. Moorcock’s Elric was the prototype for many other white haired, pale faced, otherworldly antiheroes in fantasy that came afterwards and the darkly ethereal aesthetic that reflected his constant state of self-loathing and tragedy was the most ideal fit for this new version of Alucard. Both fail as traditional fantasy heroes, both abhor their physical states, yet both learn to embrace it at the same time.

A Brief History of Modern Animation

Before we move onto the final iteration of Dracula’s son, let us first acquaint ourselves with an artistic medium that has not been fully discussed yet. This essay has gone into detail concerning the aesthetics of video games, fashion, filmmaking, and music, but where does animation fit in? Since 1891’s Pauvre Pierrot, the only surviving short film predating the silent era with 500 individually painted frames, animation has evolved into one of the most expressive, diverse, and groundbreaking art forms of the modern age. There were earlier methods that fit into the animation mold before Pauvre Pierrot including but not limited to shadow play, magic lantern shows, and the phenakistoscope, one of the first devices to use rapid succession in order to make still images look as though they were moving. Throughout the 20th century, with the help of mainstream studios like Warner Bros. and of course Walt Disney, the medium quickly began to encompass a variety of techniques and styles beyond a series of drawings on paper. Some of the more recognizable and unique styles are as followed:

Digital 2-D animation

Digital 3-D animation

Stop-motion

Puppetry

Claymation

Rotoscoping

Motion capture

Cut-out animation

Paint-on-glass

The most common forms used in film and television are traditional hand drawn and digital 3-D, sometimes merged together in the same product. There has been much debate over which animation technique has more artistic merit and is more “authentic” to the medium, but the reality is that there is no singular true form of animation. Each style brings its own advantages, challenges, and all depends on how it is being used to tell a specific story or evoke a feeling within the audience. For example, the 2017 semi-biographical movie Loving Vincent is animated in a nontraditional style with oil paints in order to create the illusion of a Vincent Van Gogh painting that has come to life. As Loving Vincent is about the influential painter himself and his tragic life, this animation technique works to the film’s advantage. If the story had used a more traditional form like 2-D or 3-D, it might not have had the same impact. Another example like the film A Scanner Darkly starring Keanu Reeves uses a somewhat controversial technique known as rotoscoping, which entails tracing over live action scenes in order to give it a realistic yet still animated feel. A Scanner Darkly is a futuristic crime thriller meant to evoke a sense of surrealism and discomfort, making the uncanniness of rotoscoping the perfect fit for its artificial atmosphere.

Throughout its history, animation has gone through a number of phases corresponding to political, artistic, and historical events such as propaganda shorts from Walt Disney during World War II and the rise of adult-oriented animators who rode the wave of countercultural movements during the late 1960s and early 70s. Animation meant for older audiences was especially coming into its own as most audiences had become more comfortable associating the medium with the family friendly formula perfected by the Disney company. The only other western mainstream animation studio that could stand toe to toe with Disney while also dabbling in mature subject matter at the time was Warner Bros. and its juggernaut Looney Tunes, which even then was mostly relegated to smoking, slapstick violence, and mild suggestive material. Meanwhile, the works of Ralph Bakshi, arguably the father of elevated adult animated features, dealt with everything from dark humor, sexuality, profanity, and complex themes most of which delved into pure shock value and were highly offensive in order to make a statement. There were later exceptions to this approach including Bakshi’s own adaptation of Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings, Wizards, and Fire and Ice, a high profile collaboration with Frank Frazetta, in which both films utilized rotoscope animation to create unique, fantasy-based experiences for mature viewers.

With the right amount of funds and creativity, other countries began developing their own animated features with distinct styles that reflected the culture, social norms, and history in which they originated from. The 1960s are referred to as “the rise of Japanese animation”, or as it came to be known worldwide as anime, thanks to iconic characters of the decade like Astro Boy, Kimba the White Lion, and Speed Racer. The longest running anime with over 7,700 episodes to date is Sazae-san, based on the popular 1940s comic strip of the same name. Western audiences commonly associate modern anime with over the top scenarios, animation, and facial movements while having little to no basis in reality when it comes to either story or character design.

While the Walt Disney company was steadily losing its monopoly on the animation industry with financial and critical disappointments (making room for other animators like Don Bluth) until it's renaissance during the 1990s, the 1980s turned into a golden age for ambitious, groundbreaking anime projects. Not only were films like Akira, Grave of the Fireflies, Barefoot Gen, and Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind among many others, appealing to a wide variety of audiences, they were also bold enough to tackle mature, complex subject matter with a certain degree of nuance that complimented each film’s unique but often times bizarre or surreal styles. Akira watches like a violent cyberpunk splatterfest with extreme body horror and juvenile delinquency, yet its borderline exploitative methods serve a larger purpose. Akira takes place in a bleak, dystopian Japan where Tokyo has been rebuilt after its destruction in 1988, setting up an allegorical story that directly confronts government experimentation and the fallout of nuclear warfare.

Artists of all mediums have always influenced one another and the impact that anime has had on western animation continues to this day whether through passing tongue-in-cheek references, taking inspiration from common anime tropes while also depicting them through a western lens, or shows that feature a heavily emulated anime style like Avatar: The Last Airbender and its successor The Legend of Korra. Then there are shows that completely blur the lines between western animation and anime, with the ultimate distinction usually coming down to where it was originally developed (i.e. North America or Japan).

Alucard c. 2017

The overall aesthetic and image of Netflix’s Castlevania is built upon a number of different influences, the majority of which come from Japanese animation. Executive producer and long time Castlevania fan Adi Shankar has gone on record saying that the show is partially “an homage to those OVAs that I would watch on TV (...) and I was like, “This is beautiful, and it’s an art form”. He has also directly compared the show to those golden age-era ultra violent anime features of the 80s and 90s, including titles such as Akira, Ghost in the Shell, and Ninja Scroll. Director Samuel Deats, another avid Castlevania fan, has mentioned the long-running manga series Berserk along with its 1997 anime adaptation as one of the animation team’s primary inspirations numerous times, explaining in further detail in a 2017 interview with io9: “I pulled out my ‘I love the Berserk manga, Blade the Immortal’ and all that. That dark fantasy style of storytelling, character design, how gorey it gets… I put together a bunch of drawings and sketches, and a few color images that channeled all of that”.

Watching Castlevania, the aesthetic references to Berserk are obvious. Both series merge together medieval fantasy elements with gruesome horror but they are also similar in their particular animation styles. One director from Korean studio MOI Animation who partnered with Powerhouse Animation collaborated on the feature length film Berserk: The Golden Age—The Egg of the King along with its two sequels. But the biggest inspiration for the design of Castlevania, especially when it comes to its characters, is Ayami Kojima herself.

From the pre-production phase, the team at Powerhouse knew they wanted Kojima’s art to be the main basis of how the finished product would look and feel. According to Samuel Deats, “In the back of everyone’s heads, we knew that we wanted to heavily reference the style Ayami Kojima used in the Castlevania games. We wanted to bring the same shade-before-image sort of thing”. However, due to the sheer amount of details and embroidered style of Kojima’s aesthetic, many of her original designs had to be simplified into 2-D animated forms (just as they had to be reduced into pixelated form for Symphony of the Night).

Alucard’s animated design is the best example of this simplification process, but it took some trial and error in order to arrive at the finished product. When Castlevania was originally planned as a movie, his design veered closer to the otherworldliness and corpse-like aesthetic of Lords of Shadow Alucard—something that looked as far from a human being let alone a dhampir as possible. Following the years of stifled development until Netflix picked up the project, Powerhouse opted to fall back on Kojima’s artwork for sheer iconography and recognizability.

On the one hand, animated Alucard’s facial expressions are identical to his game counterpart with the exception of a few liberties taken; same determined scowl, same intensely golden eyes, and same lush eyelashes (there’s even a note from his character sheet specifically stating that they must cast shadows for close-ups). Most of all, the same feminine androgyny of Kojima’s work. But there are just as many omitted details from Alucard’s updated model as there are those that were carried over from the original design. When compared to Symphony of the Night, his wardrobe seems to be severely lacking in excessive ornaments, instead opting for a sleek black coat with simple gold embellishments, knee high boots with a slight heel, and a white shirt with an open v-neckline. Despite these supposedly easy changes and evocation of Kojima’s art style, Alucard is still one of the more difficult characters to animate as stated by Deats: “I mean, Alucard has to be just right. You can’t miss an eyelash on him without it looking weird”.

For the most part, it shows in the final product. There are moments when the animation goes off model (as is the case with most 2-D animated shows for time and budgetary reasons), but rarely is Alucard drawn from an unflattering angle. The other reason for his change in design is the fact that Castlevania takes place three centuries before the events of Symphony of the Night. Because of the story constraints and console limitations, players were not given an in-depth look at Alucard’s character beyond his quest to defeat Dracula and the guilt he felt afterwards. It would make sense that his demeanor differs from the stoic nature of how he reacts to certain situations three hundred years later. As a result, Alucard is given a toned-down design to reflect what he might have been like as a younger, brasher, and more immature version of himself.

This immaturity and juvenile nature of his visual image comes through in his portrayal. While the show is in its third season, we will primarily focus on season two as when compared to the others, it revolves around Alucard’s personal journey towards an important aspect of his long established character the most; namely, the reason for his rebellion against Dracula and his eventual act of patricide. Because Alucard only appears as a silhouette in episode one then makes his full introduction during the last fifteen minutes of the final episode, season one gives the audience a very limited idea of his character. What we do get from Alucard is the same impression that Symphony of the Night left fans with: someone who is determined, intensely fixated on his goal, and is willing to use any means to accomplish it—even if it involves striking a tentative truce between a vampire hunter and a scholar of magic. Season two expands upon this, showing an Alucard who is soft-spoken, careful in his mannerisms, more feminine than masculine, yet always rises to the occasion whenever he needs to match Trevor Belmont’s own crassness. For all of his grace, Alucard’s high emotions coupled with an unchecked immaturity (especially in the presence of Trevor) show how ill-equipped he is when dealing with human interactions.

One other piece of evidence that adds to this chink in Alucard’s carefully crafted metaphorical armor is the goal of stopping his father. Throughout small interactions and moments of dialogue, the truce struck between him, Trevor, and Sypha eventually develops into more of a friendship, yet Alucard continues to suffer from extreme tunnel vision, going as far as to chastise his two companionships whenever they get too distracted or unfocused from their mission. This character flaw is also touched upon in Castlevania: Grimoire of Souls when characters remark upon Alucard’s (otherwise referred in the game as Arikado) overly serious nature. A flaw that does more to unintentionally push others away rather than any attempt to bring them closer to him.

When Alucard finally achieves his goal of killing Dracula, it leaves him feeling hollow. He doesn’t quite know how to fully process this ultimate decision, maintaining a delicate sense of composure on the outside while in the presence of others. It’s only when Alucard is left alone does he allow the emotions of everything that has just happened to overwhelm him in a moment of genuine vulnerability that was only alluded to in previous scenes.

Conclusion

Despite the show being renewed for a fourth season, the future of the Castlevania franchise in general remains uncertain. There’s been no talk of any other past games being set for rerelease, Grimoire of Souls continues to make sporadic updates to its gacha system rather than its story mode, and Konami has since chosen to take a step back from developing video games in favour of manufacturing pachislot machines. Symphony of the Night and Bloodstained: Ritual of the Night creator Koji Igarashi has mentioned in past interviews that should Konami somehow make a return to Castlevania, he would be willing to direct a new instalment. But at the present time, rumors have remained rumors and there are no signs of a new official Castlevania game in the near future whether developed by Konami or an outside company.

No matter what direction Castlevania takes in the years to come, it seems as though Alucard will always follow it, just as Dracula and the Belmonts will as well. This is his franchise as much as it is theirs thanks to continued fan popularity. He’s taken many forms in the past thirty years and become the visual representation of certain trends, yet one thing about him never changes: he is still Dracula’s son, the opposite of his father. He can be cruel, powerful, cold, and everything else a Byronic hero should be yet he can also reject his masculine inheritance in both character and aesthetic.

Above all else, the human side of Alucard is greater than the monstrous side.

References

Bannister, Matthew. White Boys, White Noise: Masculinities and 1980s Indie Guitar Rock. Burlington: Taylor & Francis, 2017.

Castlevania Wiki | Fandom. https://castlevania.fandom.com/wiki/Castlevania_Wiki

Dyhouse, Carol. Heartthrobs: A History of Women and Desire. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017.

Godoy, Tiffany; Hirakawa, Takeji. Style Deficit Disorder: Harajuku Street Fashion, Tokyo. San Francisco: Chronicles Books, 2007.

Hodkinson, Paul. Goth: Identity, Style and Subculture. Bloomsbury Fashion Central, 2002.

Hutchings, Peter. Hammer and Beyond: The British Horror Film. Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1993.

James, Edward; Mendlesohn, Farah. The Cambridge Companion to Fantasy Literature. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2012.

Kibby, M.D. Real Men: Representations of Masculinity in the Eighties Cinema. Sydney: Western Sydney University Thesis Collection, 1997.

Kojima, Ayami. Santa Lilio Sangre. ToÌ"kyoÌ" : Asukashinsha, 2010.

Metzger, Patrick. “The Nostalgia Pendulum: A Rolling 30-Year Cycle of Pop Culture Trends.” The Patterning. WordPress.com, 2017. https://thepatterning.com/2017/02/13/the-nostalgia-pendulum-a-rolling-30-year-cycle-of-pop-culture-trends/

Moorcock, Michael. Elric of Melniboné. New York: Ace Fantasy, 1987.

Narcisse, Evan. “The Animation Studio That Made Castlevania Explains Why It Was A Dream Project.” io9. Gizmodo, 2017. https://io9.gizmodo.com/the-animation-studio-that-made-castlevania-explains-why-1797476526

Younker, Terasa. “Japanese Lolita: Dreaming, Despairing, Defying.” Standford Journal of East Asian Affairs, 2012, 97-110.

#castlevania #alucard #alucard castlevania #adrian fahrenheit tepes #castlevania netflix #castlevania symphony of the night #ayami kojima #konami #my writing #i'm sending my baby out into the world...... be gentle

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michaelgrayyy · 3 years

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One of us (8)

Michael Gray x Reader/ Peaky Blinders x Reader

Master list - https://michaelgrayyy.tumblr.com/masterlist

Aberama hangs out on the side of the car as we near our destination, the further into the countryside the more Michael seemed to sulk. You keep looking over at him feeling his eyes on you as you sit beside Bonnie facing him while Bonnie faces Polly. Polly gets out first followed by Bonnie, who turns to help you down and then you turn back to help Michael but decide against it seeing his expression. You step out onto the woodland floor looking around, it made you miss your cottage, you hoped you’d be able to get back there when this was over, whenever that was.

“No! No, fucking way” you hear Michael complain from behind you and Polly meets your eyes, you stifle a giggle quickly covering your mouth and keeping your back to him.

“You ever eaten Hedgehog Michael?” Aberama asks seeing his reaction and you can’t contain the giggle that leaves you. You look back at Michael who sends you a glare before carrying on.

“I’m getting back in this car” he states pulling a cigarette out to smoke

“Michael, you’re number two on Luca Changretta’s hit list” she looks at me. “Well maybe three” she debates before carrying on.

“Yeah and I’ll stay in a hotel, we’ll stay in a hotel right, y/n?” he says trying to get you to side with him but you just raise your hands showing him you aren’t getting involved.

“You stay in a hotel, I’ll know where you are, so will the people who take you there, so will the people who work in the hotel, and hotels don’t move around. They don’t even know where they’ll be tomorrow, they follow the Patrin and the crows.” Polly argues back to him, silencing him. He knows she's right he just hates to admit it.

“And should anyone come for you, Michael, the Palmers and the Boswells will put up a fair fight” Aberama adds as Polly gets Michael medicine.

“Why are they talking as if you aren't coming with me, y/n?” he asks with a clenched jaw. Oh boy!

“I’ve got unfinished business with the Italians”

“And I don’t?” he snaps back instantly pissing you off.

“Right now, you don't.” you reply as Polly continues to go through his medicine looking between you both.

“Your painkiller..” Polly says passing them to Bonnie.

“The healers up there, will heal you much quicker”

“It's true, pretty sure I’d be dead without them healing me after getting me from Luca” I add trying to reassure him but Michael just looks over at you annoyed.

“Fucking witches, the lot of them” Michael grumbles earning a chuckle of Aberama who shakes his head at him.

“Show some respect, Mr. Gray. They’ve agreed to welcome you on account of your blood” Bonnie replies to him, you shake you head at Michael as he glares back at Bonnie not responding. You walk away getting yourself in the carriage, with the help of the men at the steps, having heard enough of Michaels complaining. Soon Bonnie joins you and not long after Michael joins you as well, you blow a kiss to Polly as the door shuts and she smirks.

“Will you quit sulking. These people are risking their lives to protect you” you break the silence after so long having had enough of his moping. Bonnie looks over before quickly looking back out the window guessing this is heading for an argument.

“Why are you coming with us if you aren’t staying?” he asks changing the subject.

“Because I thought you’d help you settle in, clearly that was poor judgment on my behalf.” you reply

“How are you going to get back to Small Heath?”

“Bonnie has a boxing match tonight, I’m going” you reply and Michael starts to work his jaw again so you turn the conversation to Bonnie. “You ready for your fight?” you call out to Bonnie who walks back over to sit down with you both.

“Sure am” he replies.

“Have you met Goliath yet?” he nods with a smirk. “Are you worth betting on?”

“Mr. Shelby seems to think so” he replies.

“Honestly, I can’t tell if Tommy is a genius or mad” you state. “But, I reckon you’re a good bet”

It's not long till the cart is pulled up and Bonnie opens the door, telling you that you’ll need to start making a move back to Small Heath in an hour before he walks off to help the others set up their camp. This is only a temporary camp until they make it to their main base, a part of you felt a bit gutted you wouldn’t get to see it but you needed to get back. You turn round motioning for Michael to come with you as you step outside, he reluctantly follows you both walk over to a fallen tree. He sits down and you slowly lower yourself next to him closing your eyes as you do.

“Still bad isn't it?” he asks watching your movements.

“I’ve had more fun” you respond. “Look, Michael I know you aren’t happy about this. But, please try and be nice to them, they are part of your heritage whether you like it or not and they are good people. This is better than you being shot again...we’ve already lost John” you plead with him and he softens ever so slightly before sighing.

“Alright, alright. I'll try, but I don’t like this.” he agrees mostly just trying to shut me up but I'll take it. “You and Gold’s son are awfully friendly” he tries to sound nonchalantly about it but fails miserably.

“He did save my life by getting me away from Luca, that's a good way to become my friend in my book.” you reply with a shrug before looking at him as he looks ahead of him with a hard expression. “Are you jealous?” you ask with a smirk.

“It was just a question, y/n” he replies in a clipped tone and your smirk grows into a cocky smile.

“You are!” you exclaim with a little laugh.

“I’m just being cautious is all, not like you who just befriends anyone and everyone” he replies and your smile fades.

“Is there a reason you are trying to provoke an argument every-time you speak to me?” you question running out of patience with his mood. He doesn’t respond just pulls out a cigarette to smoke, he takes a drag before you reach over taking it from his lips and taking a drag yourself. You both let out a sigh as a peaceful quiet settles amongst you both.

“As much as I hate to admit it, I do miss the fresh air” he says breathing in and you laugh watching him puff on the cigarette.

“What were your family like?” you ask him and he pauses before realising you are talking about his adopted family. That’s how you pass the time until you need to leave, Michael tells you about climbing trees and playing games with his little brother, about the pies and cakes his mum would make and how he used to help his father around the house doing jobs like cutting logs and fixing up the sheds. You smile as he talks not seeing this side of him before, part of you wishes he never came back to Polly so he could still be there but then you remember the stories of him blowing up the village wishing well and the priest and you know he would have come sooner or later.

Bonnie walks over to tell you its time to leave and you nod at him as he stands away so you can speak privately to Michael again, you lean over placing a kiss to him lips, you pull away looking him in the eyes with a serious glare.

“You stay alive, alright” you tell him

“You too, no running at guns or getting kidnapped. Deal?” he replies and you roll your eyes with a smirk.

“Deal” you agree as he kisses you quickly again before you get up off the tree walking over to join Bonnie. “Ready” you tell him as he nods.

“We’ve got a short walk until we get to where my father is picking us up, is that okay?” he asks looking at me apologetically.

“That’s okay” you reply walking alongside him, feeling better for the fresh air.

///////

Its a few hours later when you walk down the stairs wearing a emerald sparkling dress alongside, Polly, Linda and Lizzie ready for the big fight, Ada also joins as you go try find Finn in the crowd, you try to spot Tommy but he’s nowhere in sight. Looking back where the girls were you see they've also all moved, great, at least you know they’ll be in the toilet as you head that way. You walk in to see Linda setting out a line beside Polly and Ada at the sinks, while Lizzie is across the other side.

“Ah, good. Y/n, we’ve been looking for you, Lizzie’s got some news” Polly greets you as you walk in, Ada turns seeing you and smiles brightly at you before noticing your pained movements.

“I’m pregnant” Lizzie announces.

“Oh, and who’s the father? Have you managed to narrow it down?” Linda comments before taking a line of snow at the same time you let out a little squeal walking over to Ada to give her a hug not being able to resist. She grins at you carefully hugging you back as she raises her eyebrows at you at Linda’s comment.

“Yes. It's Tommy’s” Lizzie responds and you notice a glass of gin on the counter taking a swig.

“Congratulations. You’ve won the raffle at last” Linda remarks and you ignore her going over to give Lizzie a hug and kiss on the cheek.

“Congratulations, Lizzie” you say sincerely as Linda rolls her eyes you just glare back at her. Lizzie, Linda and Polly head back in as you stay behind with Ada, she sits on the counter as she asks how you are not having seen you since you were taken by the Italians.

“It makes you tougher” she says and you nod

“It’s the only thing it can do in this line of life” you reply as she agrees, you pull out a hip-flask of whisky passing it her after you take a swig. She fixes the rest of her make up before heading back out the door, you stay behind gathering yourself, just enjoying the peace and quiet before you have to go anywhere. Taking some of your painkillers alongside the whisky, walking outside ready to carry on watching the fight when you hear a gunshot followed by Tommy yelling in the hallway not far from you. You head off in the direction rushing not caring about the pain in your ribs, you round the corner seeing Polly up ahead being held by Tommy. He looks up noticing you and they both turn.

“What? what's going on?” you manage to say

“Arthurs dead. He’s dead” Tommy says coming over to you

“What no, he's not. Stop this” you say trying to shove past him “HE’S NOT” you yell out trying to hit out to get him away from you. He hold onto you until you stop fighting him, you push back from him walking back. He follows after you.

“Polly, go tell Linda” he shouts back rushing behind you as you run through the halls. “We need to tell Finn” you call out to him before trying to weave your way through the crowd, its not use everyone is jumping around excited about the win in the ring, Tommy grabs onto you pulling you with him over to Finn. Finn smiles at you both patting Tommy on the back for his win, but Tommy grabs onto him pulling him close to whisper to him, you see his face drop as Tommy pushes him away towards Isiah. Tommy goes over to tell Lizzie before disappearing off again and you try get over to Charlie (old) in the ring beside Aberama and Bonnie but the crowd is too lively. Charlie see’s you struggling through the crowd and jumps out to come help you get through, he gets you to the side of the ring and you look over seeing Polly and Lizzie with a sobbing Linda.

“Arthur’s dead” you say to Charlie who looks at you in confusion before Tommy jumps up into the ring firing a gun in the air. He tells the crowd Arthur is dead before crouching down as he takes a breath, Charlie quickly rushes over up into the ring and you walk over to the girls, Lizzie stands up pulling you into a hug.

///

The next few days pass by in a blur you find yourself permanently glued to the bar stool in the Garrison, joined mostly by Finn and Isiah. It’s not like your usual drinks where they’d try and pick up girls while you’d dodge the advances of men that didn't realise who you were, no this was just drinking with the intent of numbing it all. You don’t remember how but you some how end up sat in the family home beside a silent Tommy, Ada and Polly waiting for Michael’s arrival. You’re heart breaks even more when they tell you the plan, but you nod having guessed bits off it all along, but not wanting to believe it.You hear him walk in the door and see Polly walk over to greet him but you don’t move, just sat swirling the cup of Tea Ada made you. Micheal walks over to you squeezing your shoulder in comfort as he looks to Tommy.

“Tommy, I’ve been trying to find the words” Michael says and you get up walking over to the drinks section.

“Don’t. Words don’t work” Polly cuts him off as you pour a glass of whisky. “Micheal we’re in a grave situation. But, Tommy has a plan. Instead of going to Australia you're going to go to New York.”

“Why?” he asks in shock

“Because the company has business to attend to in America” Ada responds, Michael looks over at you and then to Tommy, the only two not to speak to him yet.

“Will I be coming back?”

“You’re train leaves in an hour Michael.” Tommy breaks the silence. “You made a choice. You knew I was going to be shot and you chose not to tell me” Michael looks over to Polly.

“I chose my mum” he responds.

“When all this business is over, we’ll all be free to make our own choices” Polly says to him with tears in her eyes, you wipe away some of your own that have managed to slip.

“So is that it?” Michael asks looking at the back of Tommy.

“You get the train to Liverpool then the SS Monroe. The boat sails tomorrow.” He passes him the tickets “Now you can go”.

“Y/n?” he looks over at you and you bite your lip.

“Please just go” you plead wiping some more tears. “Please” you croak out and he closes his eyes in regret before turning to leave.

#michael gray #michael gray x reader #Michael Gray imagine #Michael Shelby #Peaky Blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder x reader #Tommy Shelby

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ziracona · 3 years

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I once read a theory about white glowing eyes being a sign of a killer being brainwashed/mind controlled, which is why Wraith, Spirit and Deathlinger hunt after survivors even though they have little to no reason to do so. If it's okay, could you please write how they would react if the mind control went off one day and they realised what they were doing the whole time?

Oh yeah! I’ve always considered the Entity-touched eyes to mean the killer has their visual perception of the world intentionally altered, and since Caleb canonically is made to hallucinate and has the same effect on him, considered that more or less confirmed by his chapter. I haven’t heard brainwashed/mind controlled before, but I can give that a go. If I’m remembering correctly, Hillbilly has that as well.

Rin would be horrified. The Entity literally turned her into the thing she hated—into something like her father, who gives in to rage and mutilates and kills innocent people. She’s done the same thing to girls her own age her father did to her, and with no ability to stop it. Realizing she’s been used to do that? It would destroy her. She would be overcome with sorrow and confusion, and terrified, because she has no idea how to stop it, or if it’ll just happen again. And she would be so sorry, but what would you even say to someone you’d done that to? It all suddenly feels so impossible and scary and lost beyond repair. She’s a corpse and a killer, and she’ll never be free, and she’s beyond heartbroken.

Max would be confused. For so long, he’s been fighting off threats and he’s been hooking them because he wants to, right? Because it’s how he warns other people not to come to his home. But suddenly, the control on him is just gone, and it doesn’t make sense anymore. Where is he? How did this happen? What took him, and what is wrong with him to make him think this was normal? The farm is all wrong, and there are barriers he can’t get through, and it hasn’t been new threats—it’s been the same people! Over and over and over again, and he knows he killed them, but they’re back? And why? Why did he hook them? What was the thing in the sky? How did it make him do this? What else has it made him do? What can it make him do? What will it? Is this clarity just for a moment? Is he going to lose it again? And he’s scared then. He’s suddenly bricked up behind the wall, and the thing keeping him chained up is using him for sport he doesn’t want to be a part of, and mocking him, and hurting him, and he can’t beat it. Can’t get free. Can’t save himself. He’s back were he was as a kid, and the PTSD all comes back and hits him like a truck, and he’s terrified, and frenzied, just bashing himself against the barrier to his little cell of a realm, trying to get free, trying to save himself, and he sees it coming to claim him again, and there’s nowhere to run, and he just has to watch it get him.

Caleb is furious. He’s been used, again, and again, and again, his whole life. Every employer of any kind he ever trusted, stabbed him in the back! And it’s happened again. Somehow worse than ever before. This bastard demon monster dragged him from his world, and got in his head, and made him think he was getting revenge. It made him see all these total strangers as men he hated, so he’d be motivated to hurt them for it. It used his rage and his personal quest for vengeance like a dangled carrot, and moved him like a puppet, and he’s furious. He doesn’t really give a damn about the strangers, but he’s mad he was manipulated into giving them the punishment he wanted to give to Bayshore. The Entity was just…going to let him think he was getting that vengeance, forever. Didn’t even give him a real offer, or force him, or break him. It just drugged him. So that he’d do what it wanted, like so many things he’s served before. And he. Is. Angry. He doesn’t know if he’ll be controlled again. He doesn’t know if there’s a way to break it. But he writes what’s going on down in two letters. Leaves one in his jacket for himself to find, in case there is some way for him to break this control and get some god damn revenge if it takes him again, and the other, he takes, ties to a bottle of alcohol, and throws into the Survivors’ campfire area. Hoping one will see it. Because he doesn’t really give a damn about them, and they sure as hell don’t give one about him, but the enemy of your enemy is your friend, and he knows, no matter how much they hate him? They hate the Entity more. And if they can find a way to break its control, he’ll try to help them find a way to make it pay, like he has every boss who betrayed him before it, and it’s a longshot, but it’s all he’s got.

Philip is shattered. He’s spent his whole life just trying to live. Just wanting to be decent. To take no harm, to do no harm. To have just some kind of simple life, where he doesn’t have to fight to be in a small house that’s warm in the winter and cool in the hot season, and where he isn’t afraid he’ll starve, or be murdered on a street corner, and maybe can sometimes afford to go see a movie or buy a new jacket in a store every now and again. And those ambitions were still far too much. Life has seen him fit to suffer since the day he turned six. He lived through the horrors of genocide in his home as a boy, lost people, watched so many die, watched so much senseless and cruel and awful and unfathomable brutality. And he hated it. He wanted, more than anything, to be able to punish the people who burned others alive for no reason at all but a little bit of hate or a little bit of money. He wanted the people who didn’t survive the genocide to have the justice they deserved. But he had no power to do it.

He went to America, following promises of a safer and better life, and he survived, and that was nothing, but nothing was enough. He sometimes bought beers with the little extra money, and he made rent, and the food wasn’t great, but he was not afraid to starve. His job was simple, and he liked it, because he got to repair things. Some cars he crushed, but others he got to fix, and send back out, and as inconsequential as it was, the world was some fraction of a percentage better at night after work he’d done, and that felt good to him. And then he saw blood leaking out of a trunk, and rescued an injured young man from being crushed, only to watch his boss slit the man’s throat and take the life he’d just saved. He was only even able to buy the man an extra ten or so seconds of life. And then found out he’d been used to kill hundreds he hadn’t known existed, hidden in the trunks of cars, and his boss was doing it, like men always had. Killing others senselessly and brutally and mercilessly, for a little bit of hate, or a little bit of money. And so he killed his boss, to avenge the people he’d used his hands to kill. And fled, because no matter if the police or the mob found him first, it was going to be death the moment anyone did. And then the Entity took him. And it’s been years. Years of this quiet, peaceful, silent haze. Buried under so much fog. Hunting shadows, fleeting images of faces he doesn’t remember. What has he been doing? Has he really been aware of it at all? The worst part is he doesn’t know. And the control over him shuts off mid-trial, and suddenly he’s just Philip, just the Philip he’s always been, and he’s standing above a little girl, with her blood on his blade and her friend’s dead body beside her, and she’s cowering, waiting for him to kill her, and he knows he’s going to—he was going to. And he remembers all of. Every moment, like memories. But like memories he wasn’t there for. Like sleep-walking, and waking up, but gaining all the memories your eyes took in while you were asleep.

And he doesn’t understand it. He can’t. He never would have done this. But god, he did—he did. He sees himself doing it. He remembers it. And it wasn’t him, it wasn’t! He doesn’t know how, but it wasn’t! It was like being drugged, no, it was worse. There was something else in him. Moving him, and he was awake, but only a little. Buried beneath it, unable to fight back. Unable to stop it. But forced to be party to all the blood it shed. It made him something he was not, so much more completely and irrevocably and unforgivably than Azarov ever did. And there’s just. There’s no coming back from that. There’s no way to make peace with it! Or get past it! Or anything like that! It’s so beyond over. It breaks his mind. It breaks him. It’s too much to hold. He’s been using the bell. The bell that used to warn there were people coming to kill family when he was a child, and he’s been using it to announce he’s coming to kill, like he was one of the men who would enact genocide for a little bit of hate or a little bit of money. How, how has been doing this? Doing any of it. He killed one seconds ago, and there’s another at his feet now, waiting to die. And he just collapses and holds his head and screams, that muffled, choked scream from vocal chords damaged a little from their complete lack of use. And he doesn’t see anything at all for a minute, except pain and the past and the present and the possible futures, as he tries to bear more pain than is physically possible, and then he’s a little aware of the world again, and the girl is moving. She’s edging towards the sickle he dropped. And he could stop her. But he just stays still and watches her take it, and she closes her fingers around the hilt and shakily shoots to her feet and levels it at him.

Says, “Don’t move!” in a trembling voice.

Of all the things. He was about to murder her, and she’s telling him not to move. Like there’s a way she might offer not to kill him, if he complies. She’s so small. Maybe the smallest in all his memories. Maybe the smallest one there’s ever been here. In another life, she could have been him. Could have been his sister. She could have been the one walking down a road, wishing to kill people like the man who killed a friend. Maybe she’s there, right now. She must be.

He stays kneeled and looks at her for a second with eyes that, for once and only once, are his own deep brown like hers, and not glowing, and then he lowers his head and closes them and says, “Kill me.”

It’s the first thing he’s said in years. It’s the first time in years he’s had a reason to speak. He doesn’t want to take the words back.

She doesn’t. She hesitates. Says, “What?” Lost and confused. He can’t understand why on earth she would hesitate. She shouldn’t.

“I don’t know how long this will last,” he says, opening his eyes and looking up at her again. It’s hard to do. There’s blood matted in her dreads and the little pink shirt she’s wearing, and some of it is fresh, still bleeding, from where he was starting to kill her. “Kill me while you have the chance. Before I become like that again.”

“Before…?” She hesitates again. Trying to figure him out. Trying to do the right thing, somehow, even here and now. “’Like that’—you mean—you don’t…control what you do, as the Wraith? You can’t?”

“I don’t know,” he says in his voice that never speaks. He doesn’t. And he has a deep, troubling feeling, that if he lives, he is not going to remain himself long enough to understand it, either. “But that is not me. Kill me. Before I become it again. … Please,” he adds. It’s harder to get out than the rest. He doesn’t have a right to ask her for anything.

“B-but,” she stutters, suddenly so unready to kill him. She lowers the blade a little and it hurts to see. “If it’s not you—if the Entity uses your body, and you’re just somebody trapped inside, you’re a victim too. I could save you! There might be a way to stop it!”

She’s so desperate to help him. That’s almost enough to kill him on its own.

“Don’t try to save me, child,” he pleads with as much voice as he has left, “Whatever it has done to me, I have done it with it. I am not a thing to be saved. Kill me while you can. Avenge your friend.” She still doesn’t want to. He can see it in her face. She’s worried now—afraid to do the wrong thing. How can something so innocent and kind be left in her after being ripped apart so often in this hell. It’s almost comforting to see it, in spite of everything. There is no longer any hope for him, but if she is still like this, there must still be hope. For them. For other people. It will not always end for people like him like it is for him himself.

“You would be doing me a favor,” he says, because he remembers he doesn’t want her to have a death on her soul, and if she cannot see this as just, she must see it as mercy, or it will scar her too. He hesitates, lost. Thinking about what will happen if she doesn’t. Thinking again about what already has. “I don’t want to be this. Please,” he whispers. He starts crying. Or maybe he was before. He wasn’t aware, but he feels it now. Silent, but his face is cold from the breeze against it in the night air.

“I could save you,” she says again, pleading now too.

And Philip feels the Entity go inside him then. While he’s looking into her eyes. And he knows he’s going to be buried again in a second, and he may never wake back up, may just be trapped forever watching himself murder innocents like he was the kind of man who loved it. And she still has a chance to kill him if she does it now, but he sees her face, and the kindness there, and the worry, and concern for someone she should feel no concern for, and he knows even if he asks her this one last time, she will not do it, and whatever he tries, he only has an instant to do it in before he is gone again, maybe gone for good, and with everything he has of himself left in the second he has remaining, he shouts at her to run.

Also! Since I did Philip’s as a narrative, I’m doing a short one for Rin too, but under the cut. : ) Hope you enjoy these the Philip one made me cry. :’-]

It wasn’t meant to be shut off.

The plan had never been for one of the killers operating under controlled illusion and compulsion to realize what they had been living. Why would it be? That was only going to cause the Entity problems. But blight was an unpredictable biological event, even for the Entity, and this year was a little different even than most. Different, because The Blight himself was tinkering maybe a little too much. The purge this year was deep, and intense, and the killers themselves were more involved than ever, and the system broke. Not for long. More a hiccup, than anything. A burst of static. But it happened, nonetheless.

Rin wasn’t in a trial. She was in the estate, waiting, like she always did between trials. She needed to get home to kill her father. Any day, any minute now, she would get to do it and avenge her mom and be free. She was folding origami cranes. 1,000 of them, and her wish would come true. She would go home, and finish her father, and be at peace. And she was excited. Happy. A stack of paper beside her, and she had been folding for hours. This was 987. So close now, it was in her grasp. “988, 989, 990. 991, 992,” she whispered to herself as she folded cranes, trying to go faster and faster and fumbling a little in her excitement. “993. 994—” A sudden burst of wind came out of nowhere, and the crane in her hands was torn away, and the little pile she had scattered, and as she turned to look after them, vanished into the inky black sky.

She felt her eyes well up with tears. “I was so close,” she whispered to herself, heart sinking. But that’s okay, she tried to tell herself, You were so close in just a few hours. You’ll get it this time. And, consoled, she started again, back to one. Sure she’d get it this time.

She was on number 413 when the Entity’s control was suddenly lost.

Rin faltered, hands halfway to making a fold, and stared at nothing, then slowly looked down at the bird in her hands.

Oh no, she thought, unable to assign any emotion to the thoughts except a vague echo of fear, I’ve done this before. Not once before. Not twice. Not twenty. Thousands. She had done this thousands of times before. And always, always on the nine hundred and ninety-fourth one, they were blown away, and she started again.

How long have I been doing this? she thought in a panic, a deep, real fear seeping into her body.

And then it hit her for real.

Not the cranes, and the endless cycle. But the time in-between. The trials.

“No,” she whispered. She went rigid, then twitched. It was too much to bear. Memories flooded her brain and it was more pain than she was able to take. People. God, so, so many people. Some of them could have been her own age, even, and all of them she had…God. The memories were harsh and unbearable. In her head, it had been her father. She had been…been killing him. Or been—been practicing. Been getting ready. God, god, it had made so much sense to her. Like she was meditating to work her way to the real thing. But how had she thought that? It had never been him at all! It had been people, people like her! Fuck—people running, people screaming, and bleeding, and begging, and crying, and being torn to pieces at her feet.

I killed them, she thought in horror, I killed them all.

So many times. So many times. And it was the same people? How? How did she keep killing the same ones?

Where am I? thought Rin in desperation. She shot to her feet and looked around. It—it was home, but, but no, no, no, no, it wasn’t home at all! It was wrong. It was like home in a dream, where you thought you recognized the place, but the moment you woke you realized how completely wrong the structure had been, and were lost as to how it had ever felt right at all! What am I? she wondered in horror as she caught sight of the hue of her hand. Stumbling over her feet, Rin tore out to the gardens, looking for something she could see herself in, and fell to her knees by the little nearly dried up stream, and looked. And brought her hands up to her mouth in despair and fear.

She wasn’t a person anymore. She was pale, almost blue, and her arm was detached. Glass in her shoulder—god, she could feel it now. Feel the agony. And her side? It was—it was in pieces—she’d almost been ripped in two! She started to wonder how she was even still alive, but she wasn’t. She wasn’t, god, and that was so terrifying to try to truly understand. Her eyes were white like a Yurei. No. No, she realized, starting to cry, No. An Onryo.

How long had she been one? How—? NO. NO! How will I ever get free? She had to kill her father! It would be the only way to ever end this? And where was he! Where was she!

Rin stumbled to her feet and ran, looking for an exit, to—to wherever was away from here. She made it to the edge of the garden, and saw trees ahead, and tore for them, and slammed against a barrier she couldn’t see and was knocked back onto the ground.

Struggling up, Rin found the barrier and slammed her hands against it, but it didn’t budge, and no matter how hard she pushed, she couldn’t make it through.

“Help!” she called as loud as she could, crying again in the impossibility of her situation, “Please! Someone! Anybody! Can anyone hear me? Is anyone out there!”

Nothing.

The whole world was empty, except for her. She kept pounding, kept calling, kept trying to get free, but there was no change. And exhausted, she fell to her knees and cried.

“Please.” Miserable, she curled up into a little ball and wept silently, trying to make sense of all the horrible murders in her head. Thinking of how awful the night with her father had been, how impossible it had been to understand a man like him would do a thing like he had done to her mother, and then her, and how she had known for completely certain she would never ever ever do such a thing herself, and now she was just like him.

“Did…did you say, uh…’help’?” came a voice Rin didn’t know.

She looked up in surprise, and through blurry dead eyes, saw a girl she recognized—a girl with three red braids in her hair, out of breath and flushed from running, looking at her warily from about ten feet back.

Rin’s English wasn’t amazing, but she was pretty sure the girl had asked her something about calling for help.

“’Tasukete’ right?” said the girl, eyeing her with a little suspicion and a lot of confusion.

I was right! I was right, she heard me!

Rin hurriedly sat up a little and nodded.

“…Why?” asked the redhead, moving a little closer.

And Rin was suddenly not seeing her. She was seeing hundreds of versions of this girl from her past. She was seeing one form last week, that she had chopped to bits with her katana the exact way her father had killed her, and she was sick, and couldn’t say anything at all. Could barely move. She wanted to hide. Wanted to curl up in a cold dark corner and never be seen again. She wanted to wake up and find none of this had ever happened.

“ごめんなさい。” whispered Rin, because ‘Sorry’ was the only word suddenly that she could even remember anymore.

The girl seemed to know that one to, and blinked at her in surprise, and took another step closer. “…Sorry?” she asked in a very different tone of voice. Less hostile. Less wary. More worried and confused. “For—what’s going on?”

Rin felt it coming while the girl was still speaking. There was a heaviness settling on her brain, and it was a terrifying heaviness. It was like finding another person with you inside your body, who had forced their way in, but they had not only joined you, but found a way to make your body more theirs than yours. She saw her vision flicker, and the girl was her father for a second, and things made less sense and more sense at once, but the things that made more sense were all wrong and murders and millions of paper cranes that would never be enough to buy a wish. And she reached out and put her hand against the barrier and tried to warn the girl, tried to say something, but suddenly there was no girl. Just her father, glaring back at her and filling her with rage and fear and hate, and she couldn’t remember the girl or why she was here, but she knew what the thing in front of her was, and she wanted to kill it.

#ask #anonymous #dead by daylight #writing #long post #dbd #Philip Ojomo #Rin Yamaoka

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aboveallarescuer · 4 years

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Daenerys Targaryen in A Storm of Swords vs Game of Thrones - Episode 4.1: Two Swords

In this series of posts, I intend to analyze precisely how the show writers downplayed or erased several key aspects of Daenerys Targaryen’s characterization, even when they had the books to help them write her as the compelling, intelligent, compassionate, frugal, open-minded and self-critical character that GRRM created.

I want to make it clear that these posts are not primarily meant to offer a better alternative to what the show writers gave us. I understand that they had many constraints (e.g. other storylines to handle, a limited amount of time to write the scripts, budget, actors who may have asked for a certain number of lines, etc) working against them. However, considering how disrespectful the show’s ending was to Daenerys Targaryen and how the book material that they left out makes it even more ludicrous to think that she will also become a villain in A Song of Ice and Fire, I believe that these reviews are more than warranted. They are meant to dissect everything about Dany’s characterization that was lost in translation, with a lot of book evidence to corroborate my statements.

Since these reviews will dissect scene by scene, I recommend taking a look at this post because I will use its sequence to order Dany’s scenes.

This post is relevant in case you want to know which chapters were adapted in which GoT episodes (however, I didn’t make the list myself, all the information comes from the GoT Wiki, so I can’t guarantee that it’s 100% reliable).

In general, I will call the Dany from the books “Dany” and the Dany from the TV series “show!Dany”.

Scene 1

While seeing show!Dany with her dragons is always enjoyable on its own, I have some problems with this moment. The first is that we'll begin season four with show!Dany worrying about her dragons' behavior here and, later, end it with her locking two of her dragons away. These scenes don't focus as much on show!Dany herself as they focus on her relationship with her dragons, which I think is quite a problem in comparison to how ASOS and ADWD (which will be the book that the writers will adapt starting from episode 4.6) begin and end:

Dany begins ASOS hopeful and happy that she's finally going to Westeros. She ends the book disillusioned because her efforts to help the former slaves didn't pay off like she expected, so she calls off her dreams of home in order to stay and fulfill (what she thinks is) her moral duty as queen.

Dany begins ADWD distraught because she's still dealing with the nobility's backlash and retaliation against her authority even now that she has tried to be conciliatory and rule in peace. She ends the book a) disabused of the notion that peace is possible and b) directing her eyes to Westeros again.

As we can see, these two books begin and end displaying Dany's multiple dilemmas: home vs duty, other people vs herself, peace vs war, conciliation vs use of force and so on.

In the show, while her last scene in the season four finale at least highlights her compassion towards her people, I'd argue it still mainly focuses on her relationship with her dragons (which is only one of many issues that Dany deals with in the books) rather than on grappling with the questions above in a way that centers primarily on show!Dany herself, like the books do with Dany.

My second problem is that having show!Dany be concerned about her dragons' behavior that much earlier than in the books poses another problem:

In ADWD, Dany ultimately failed in protecting her human children during her tenure because she chose peace with the slavers and was, therefore, detached from her dragon children, from her Targaryen heritage and from her identity as the Mother of Dragons. By meeting Drogon again, getting in touch with who she was and choosing fire and blood (war), she will be able to protect her people again and be a better mhysa. Ultimately, mother of dragons and mhysa are complementary parts of who Dany is.

In the show, however, the dragons begin to seem troublesome before we get to Meereen, before show!Dany begins to rule and before the issue of peace vs war becomes a major dilemma for her. This happened for two reasons: a) D&D are bad writers who dismiss themes as only being necessary for eighth-grade book reports (here, I imagine they probably just wanted to add more shock value to show!Dany's plotline) and b) D&D think that peace = good (even if it privileges a status quo that normalizes slavery) and war = bad, so killing slavers = bad, dragons = bad and continuing on with an anti-slavery revolution = bad (failure to understand reason 1 of why Dany's storyline matters).

My third problem is that, in the books, it's clear that what really upsets Dany is not that the dragons are eating goats, but rather that, as they grow and become more independent, the chances of her dragons a) hurting other people or b) running away increase:

“They have been wild while you were gone, Khaleesi,” Irri told her. “Viserion clawed splinters from the door, do you see? And Drogon made to escape when the slaver men came to see them. When I grabbed his tail to hold him back, he turned and bit me.” She showed Dany the marks of his teeth on her hand.

“Did any of them try to burn their way free?” That was the thing that frightened Dany the most.

“No, Khaleesi. Drogon breathed his fire, but in the empty air. The slaver men feared to come near him.”

She kissed Irri’s hand where Drogon had bitten it. “I’m sorry he hurt you. Dragons are not meant to be locked up in a small ship’s cabin.” (ASOS Daenerys II)

There was no sign of Viserion, but when she went to the parapet and scanned the horizon she saw pale wings in the far distance, sweeping above the river. He is hunting. They grow bolder every day. Yet it still made her anxious when they flew too far away. One day one of them may not return, she thought. (ASOS Daenerys VI)

Her dragons were growing wild of late. Rhaegal had snapped at Irri, and Viserion had set Reznak’s tokar ablaze the last time the seneschal had called. I have left them too much to themselves, but where am I to find the time for them? (ADWD Daenerys I)

If I look back, I am doomed, Dany told herself … but how could she not look back? I should have seen it coming. Was I so blind, or did I close my eyes willfully, so I would not have to see the price of power?

[...] At Astapor the slaver's eyes had melted. On the road to Yunkai, when Daario tossed the heads of Sallor the Bald and Prendahl na Ghezn at her feet, her children made a feast of them. Dragons had no fear of men. And a dragon large enough to gorge on sheep could take a child just as easily. (ADWD Daenerys II)

Before what happened to Hazzea, she was okay with the fact that they were hunting and devouring sheep:

Viserion sensed her disquiet. [...] “You should be hunting with your brothers. Have you and Drogon been fighting again?” (ADWD Daenerys I)

Her dragons had grown too large to be content with rats and cats and dogs. The more they eat, the larger they will grow, Ser Barristan had warned her, and the larger they grow, the more they’ll eat. Drogon especially ranged far afield and could easily devour a sheep a day. (ADWD Daenerys I)

Basically, this is my way of saying that, if they needed to have a scene where show!Dany is uneasy about what the dragons were doing, they should've shown them almost harming one of the people in her retinue or something along those lines (rather than being shocked at seeing them hunt and eat), for that would showcase her empathy like in the books.

My fourth problem with this scene is that we see part of it from show!Jorah's point of view:

JORAH: They’re dragons, Khaleesi. They can never be tamed. Not even by their mother.

In the show, he gets the first line of show!Dany's season four storyline, he gets to be anxious about the dragons before show!Dany is (which undermines how reflective she is in the books) and he is the one who warns her of their wildness when, in the books, she is aware of it without anyone having to tell her. It's another subtle way of undermining show!Dany's agency in comparison to her book counterpart, unfortunately.

My fifth and final problem is that, well, this scene was written by the same people who thought that it was necessary to have show!Dany's dragons taken from her in season two (which never happened in ACOK) and show her going "back to being a really frightened little girl" because she is "so defined" by them. It's the opposite in the books: the dragons only turned into weapons to fight against slavery because of her choices. So, with that in mind, I don't like how they made them so important in her first and last scenes of the season when they never were in the books. And all of this conflict feels superfluous in retrospect, when one remembers that show!Dany doesn't struggle to control them in the last three seasons at all.

DAENERYS: Ser Barristan.

BARRISTAN: Your Grace.

DAENERYS: Where’s Daario Naharis? Where’s Grey Worm?

BARRISTAN: Gambling, Your Grace.

DAENERYS: Gambling?

I have problems with how show!Barristan and show!Dany are being portrayed here because it feels like the show writers switched their characterizations when we consider what we know of them in the books.

First, why is show!Barristan holding his laughter about this situation? In the books, Barristan clearly dislikes Daario and his influence on Dany:

On the day that he returned from his latest sortie, he had tossed the head of a Yunkish lord at her feet and kissed her in the hall for all the world to see, until Barristan Selmy pulled the two of them apart. Ser Grandfather had been so wroth that Dany feared blood might be shed. (ADWD Daenerys VII)

“This is your gift? A scrap of writing?” Daario snatched the parchment out of the Dornishman’s hands and unrolled it, squinting at the seals and signatures. “Very pretty, all the gold and ribbons, but I do not read your Westerosi scratchings.”

“Bring it to the queen,” Ser Barristan commanded. “Now.” (ADWD Daenerys VII)

“...Poor Daario, her brave captain … she will never forget him, no … but better for all of us if he is dead, yes? Better for Daenerys too.”

Better for Daenerys, and for Westeros. Daenerys Targaryen loved her captain, but that was the girl in her, not the queen. [...]

Her love for Daario is poison. A slower poison than the locusts, but in the end as deadly. (ADWD The Kingbreaker)

Now, Barristan is a product of his misogynistic society and I do think he's wrong for thinking (in the last quote above) that Dany's love for Daario is a sign of immaturity, but my point here is that he wouldn't be laughing about something that Daario was doing behind Dany's back; in fact, he would've most likely informed her as soon as he learned about it because he respects her authority.

Additionally, he's known for lacking a sense of humor and not being relaxed, which makes this scene even more OOC for him:

The old knight was a good man, but sometimes very literal. It was only a jape, ser, she thought, but she sat on one of the pillows just the same. (ADWD Daenerys II)

“She needs a spear,” Ser Barristan said, as Barsena vaulted over the beast’s second charge. “That is no way to fight a boar.” He sounded like someone’s fussy old grandsire, just as Daario was always saying. (ADWD Daenerys IX)

Second, why is show!Dany being portrayed as the uptight one here? In the chapter that they are drawing from, there are several moments displaying her carefree side:

“Five, were there? Well, that’s a confusion. I could not give you a number, my queen. This old Plumm was a lord, though, must have been a famous fellow in his day, the talk of all the land. The thing was, begging your royal pardon, he had himself a cock six foot long.”

The three bells in Dany’s braid tinkled when she laughed. “You mean inches, I think.”

“Feet,” Brown Ben said firmly. “If it was inches, who’d want to talk about it, now? Your Grace.”

Dany giggled like a little girl. (ASOS Daenerys V)

He tried to spare me the sight of the dead children too. He should not have done that, but he meant it kindly. And Daario Naharis made her laugh, which Ser Jorah never did. (ASOS Daenerys V)

Besides admiring Daario's sense of humor and swagger, Dany also appreciates that she can let go of the burdens of queenship (and luxury) and be more spontaneous and frugal when she's with him:

In Meereen I was a queen in silk, nibbling on stuffed dates and honeyed lamb, she remembered. What would my noble husband think if he could see me now? Hizdahr would be horrified, no doubt. But Daario ...

Daario would laugh, carve off a hunk of horsemeat with his arakh, and squat down to eat beside her. (ADWD Daenerys X)

Unfortunately, the show never allows any of those aspects of Dany's characterization to come across onscreen because the writers wanted show!Dany to appear very stoic, which we know because Emilia's said in an interview that they wanted her to "sit up straight and don't smile, you're not funny", which is quite a shame; not only the writers would've been more faithful to the books by allowing her to smile and laugh and enjoy herself, it would've made show!Dany more endearing.

Ultimately, I think the change in these characters comes down to a) D&D not really understanding any of the characters of the books and b) their sexist assumptions that men are funnier than women and that powerful women are all ice queens.

I also need to talk about how show!Dany's connection to the Dothraki, the Unsullied and the freedmen is being undermined onscreen in comparison to what we get solely from ASOS Daenerys V.

In the show, the Dothraki only appear briefly in the background of this episode to never be seen again through the rest of season four and the entirety of season five.

In ASOS Daenerys V, we see how Dany's time with the Dothraki influenced her when she judges the slavers' reaction to her army or assesses the way that Oznak fights:

They are pissing on slaves, to show how little they fear us, she thought. They would never dare such a thing if it were a Dothraki khalasar outside their gates. (ASOS Daenerys V)

Oznak zo Pahl charged a third time, and now Dany could see plainly that he was riding past Belwas, the way a Westerosi knight might ride at an opponent in a tilt, rather than at him, like a Dothraki riding down a foe. (ASOS Daenerys V)

We also see her interacting with her khalasar and considering that her bloodriders a) are too important to send to fight against Oznak and b) aren't the most adequate men to send to Meereen's sewers:

Her bloodriders were in such a fever to go meet him that they almost came to blows. “Blood of my blood,” Dany told them, “your place is here by me. This man is a buzzing fly, no more. Ignore him, he will soon be gone.” Aggo, Jhogo, and Rakharo were brave warriors, but they were young, and too valuable to risk. They kept her khalasar together, and were her best scouts too. (ASOS Daenerys V)

“When cowards hide behind great walls, it is they who are defeated, Khaleesi,” Ko Jhogo said.

Her other bloodriders concurred. “Blood of my blood,” said Rakharo, “when cowards hide and burn the food and fodder, great khals must seek for braver foes. This is known.”

“It is known,” Jhiqui agreed, as she poured.

“Not to me.” (ASOS Daenerys V)

“These sewers do not sound promising.” Grey Worm would lead his Unsullied down the sewers if she commanded it, she knew; her bloodriders would do no less. But none of them was suited to the task. The Dothraki were horsemen, and the strength of the Unsullied was their discipline on the battlefield. Can I send men to die in the dark on such a slender hope? (ASOS Daenerys V)

So, despite not getting enough characterization to be set apart as their own individuals because of GRRM's racism, the Dothraki people's influence on Dany's decision-making is still clear. Unfortunately, this is completely absent from the show.

On HBO, when show!Dany passes by the Unsullied, they are shown standing still in silent ranks for no reason while their commander show!Grey Worm is on a contest against show!Daario because the writers wanted it to happen, even though it doesn't gel with his characterization (more on that later).

In ASOS Daenerys V, when Dany passes by the Unsullied, a) they are shown separated in groups that are either training (along with Grey Worm) or bathing and b) we get information on their hygiene practices:

As they rode past the stakes and pits that surrounded the eunuch encampment, Dany could hear Grey Worm and his sergeants running one company through a series of drills with shield, shortsword, and heavy spear. Another company was bathing in the sea, clad only in white linen breechclouts. The eunuchs were very clean, she had noticed. Some of her sellswords smelled as if they had not washed or changed their clothes since her father lost the Iron Throne, but the Unsullied bathed each evening, even if they’d marched all day. When no water was available they cleansed themselves with sand, the Dothraki way. (ASOS Daenerys V)

It's lovely to see Dany returning the Unsullied's greeting, which is another example of how she (relatively speaking) sees lowborn people as equals to her:

The eunuchs knelt as she passed, raising clenched fists to their breasts. Dany returned the salute. (ASOS Daenerys V)

We also get to see the Unsullied cheer for Belwas after he won his duel:

The besiegers gave him a raucous welcome as soon as he reached the camp. Her Dothraki hooted and screamed, and the Unsullied sent up a great clangor by banging their spears against their shields. (ASOS Daenerys V)

We get to see Grey Worm openly objecting to Daario's suggestion that the Unsullied are immune to the boiling oil that the slavers would probably throw at them if they tried to storm the gates. While he and the Unsullied would still do this if Dany had given them the command, this is a subtle sign of his character development because it displays that, unlike with the slave masters, he's at least now able to speak out about the risks that he and his men would face:

“...We can storm the gates with axes, to be sure, but ...”

“Did you see them bronze heads above the gates?” asked Brown Ben Plumm. “Rows of harpy heads with open mouths? The Meereenese can squirt boiling oil out them mouths, and cook your axemen where they stand.”

Daario Naharis gave Grey Worm a smile. “Perhaps the Unsullied should wield the axes. Boiling oil feels like no more than a warm bath to you, I have heard.”

“This is false.” Grey Worm did not return the smile. “These ones do not feel burns as men do, yet such oil blinds and kills. The Unsullied do not fear to die, though. Give these ones rams, and we will batter down these gates or die in the attempt.” (ASOS Daenerys V)

And then, we see Dany deciding not to endanger the Unsullied's lives (similar to how she sought to prevent too many former slaves of Astapor from dying in the battle of Yunkai), which highlights both her compassion and her intelligence (since she shows knowledge of the Unsullied's particular strengths to conclude that they shouldn't be sent to the sewers):

Dany sighed. “I will not throw away Unsullied lives, Grey Worm. (ASOS Daenerys V)

Sadly, the show ignores all of this.

On HBO, show!Dany walked past the freedmen on her way to meet show!Daario.

In ASOS Daenerys V, Dany chose to go meet the freedmen because she didn't want to spend time distracted by her feelings for Daario:

“Missandei,” she called, “have my silver saddled. Your own mount as well.”

The little scribe bowed. “As Your Grace commands. Shall I summon your bloodriders to guard you?”

“We’ll take Arstan. I do not mean to leave the camps.” She had no enemies among her children. (ASOS Daenerys V)

We learn that the fighting men were provided with weapons from the other two cities and were now being trained (though not at the particular moment that she chose to meet them):

South of the ordered realm of stakes, pits, drills, and bathing eunuchs lay the encampments of her freedmen, a far noisier and more chaotic place. Dany had armed the former slaves as best she could with weapons from Astapor and Yunkai, and Ser Jorah had organized the fighting men into four strong companies, yet she saw no one drilling here. (ASOS Daenerys V)

Besides the fighting men, we also get information on children and women:

They passed a driftwood fire where a hundred people had gathered to roast the carcass of a horse. She could smell the meat and hear the fat sizzling as the spit boys turned, but the sight only made her frown.

Children ran behind their horses, skipping and laughing. [...]

Dany had stopped to speak to a pregnant woman who wanted the Mother of Dragons to name her baby[.] (ASOS Daenerys V)

Then, there's also how the freedmen perceive and act around Dany:

Some of the freedmen greeted her as “Mother,” while others begged for boons or favors. Some prayed for strange gods to bless her, and some asked her to bless them instead. She smiled at them, turning right and left, touching their hands when they raised them, letting those who knelt reach up to touch her stirrup or her leg. Many of the freedmen believed there was good fortune in her touch. If it helps give them courage, let them touch me, she thought. There are hard trials yet ahead ... (ASOS Daenerys V)

Instead of believing that she has a "glorious destiny" (like the show writers put it), Dany's actual thoughts display that she only allows the freedmen to revere her because it helps them to feel safe; this is another sign of her empathy, not of her self-gratification or entitlement as many often think.

Finally, the chapter shows the freedmen killing a man for Dany:

Mero went sprawling, blood bubbling from his mouth as the waves washed over him. A moment later the freedmen washed over him too, knives and stones and angry fists rising and falling in a frenzy. (ASOS Daenerys V)

In the books, the former captain of the Second Sons, Mero, hid among the freedmen and bided his time to kill Dany out of revenge for having been deceived by her in Yunkai. Barristan defended her and defeated Mero with a stick, which then led to the freedmen ultimately killing him for their mhysa (and to Barristan's identity and Jorah's treason being revealed).

On HBO, because a) show!Barristan's identity was revealed right away and b) show!Mero was killed by show!Daario (who is part of the Second Sons onscreen rather than the Stormcrows onpage), this scene never happened, making this another example of Dany's connection with the freedmen being undermined from books to show.

If the writers really cared about "the people who may be suffering the repercussions of the decisions made by those heroic people" (which was their justification for leaving show!Dany out of the picture in the second half of the episode where they had her decide to kill thousands of innocents out of nowhere), they would've shown the (already limited) interactions between Dany and her khalasar, the Unsullied and the freedmen at the very least. In fact, if the writers really cared about them, they could've gone further and explored characters that GRRM himself didn't:

“Nine, the noble Reznak said. Who else?”

“Three freedmen, murdered in their homes,” the Shavepate said. “A moneylender, a cobbler, and the harpist Rylona Rhee. They cut her fingers off before they killed her.” The queen flinched. Rylona Rhee had played the harp as sweetly as the Maiden. When she had been a slave in Yunkai, she had played for every highborn family in the city. In Meereen she had become a leader amongst the Yunkish freedmen, their voice in Dany’s councils. (ADWD Daenerys II)

Rylona Rhee was a character whose existence we only learned about in ADWD, after she was already killed by the Harpy's Sons. As the quote shows, though, she represented the Yunkish freedmen's interests in Dany's court and had a lot of potential as a character that GRRM didn't tap into. The show could've easily improved this... Think about it: if Rylona was among the Yunkish freedmen, this means that she met Dany at the end of ASOS Daenerys IV (which, in the show, was episode 3.10). From that point until ADWD Daenerys II, the entirety of season four and the beginning of season five went by (this happened because the show writers reaaaallly stretched out the events of ASOS Daenerys V and VI and parts of ADWD Daenerys I and II). This span of time would've been the perfect opportunity to introduce Rylona's character, flesh her out and give us more information about the freedmen.

Now, the show writers would've never done something like this, of course; they only cared about the lowborn people's deaths and the shock value that would come with them, not about their motivations and lives in general.

DAENERYS: How long have they been at it?

MISSANDEI: Since midnight, Your Grace.

DAARIO: Ser Worm is stronger than he looks. But I can see his arms beginning to shake.

DAENERYS: What’s the prize to winning this stupid contest?

DAARIO: The honour of riding by your side on the road to Meereen.

DAENERYS: That honour goes to Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan, as neither of them kept me waiting this morning. You two will ride in the rear guard and protect the livestock. The last man holding his sword can find a new queen to fight for.

I already talked about my first issue with the scene, which is that it portrays show!Dany as rigid and strict while it ignores that her book counterpart is allowed to be playful and not take herself seriously in several moments in the books, including in this chapter (see above).

My second problem with it is that ... why would either show!Grey Worm or show!Daario think that this contest would give one of them "the honour of riding by [show!Dany's] side on the road to Meereen"? Did they forget that this choice is show!Dany's to make? Did they forget that she is their leader? By comparison, this is what Grey Worm says when Hizdahr tries to give him orders after Dany departs Meereen:

Hizdahr’s blunder with Grey Worm had cost him the Unsullied. When His Grace had tried to put them under the command of a cousin, as he had the Brazen Beasts, Grey Worm had informed the king that they were free men who took commands only from their mother. (ADWD The Queensguard)

Considering that Grey Worm only respects his queen's authority in the books, I doubt that he would've accepted to join this contest because he would know that its "prize" is worthless to begin with. Same goes for Daario. Unfortunately, this goes in line with how the (sexist) writers of this show have show!Dany's men make decisions among themselves and forget that show!Dany is their liege (another example: show!Barristan asking show!Jorah (rather than show!Dany) to take part in the battle of Yunkai), which is something that would've been fixed by simply paying more attention to the books. Unfortunately, this will only get worse as time goes on.

DAARIO: You like this girl? Must be frustrating.

GREY WORM: You are not a smart man, Daario Naharis.

DAARIO: I’d rather have no brains and two balls.

I'm fine with the show introducing a romantic relationship between show!Grey Worm and show!Missandei (which doesn't happen in the books because Missandei is 10-11), but it bothers me that the writers thought that the very first scene suggesting that show!Grey Worm has feelings for show!Missandei should feature show!Daario making an eunuch joke. Not that this would've been better if it weren't the first scene hinting at MissWorm, of course, it's needlessly offensive regardless and, while GRRM isn't immune to stuff like this either, it's true that this doesn't even happen in the books to begin with.

Scene 2

DAENERYS: Have you ever been to Meereen?

MISSANDEI: Several times, Your Grace, with Master Kraznys.

DAENERYS: And?

MISSANDEI: They say a thousand slaves died building the Great Pyramid of Meereen.

DAENERYS: And now an army of former slaves is marching to her gates. You think the Great Masters are worried?

MISSANDEI: If they’re smart, Your Grace.

This detail about a thousand slaves having died while they built the Great Pyramid of Meereen is a show only invention.

Show!Missandei telling show!Dany that the Great Masters should be worried about the latter's army if they are smart is also a show only invention (which leaves a really bad taste in my mouth in retrospect, since this original bit of dialogue most likely stems from their impression that show!Dany is "becoming more and more viable as a threat" based on her campaign in Slaver's Bay, which will also inform why, six years later, they'll think that it's okay to say that show!Dany's actions in King's Landing were foreshadowed by her "willingness to go forth and conquer all [her] enemies"; failure to understand reasons 1 and 2 of why Dany's storyline matters).

It makes no sense that the writers felt the need to add original lines when we could've had what ASOS Daenerys V actually gave us:

When she looked over one shoulder, there it stood, the afternoon sun blazing off the bronze harpy atop the Great Pyramid. Inside Meereen the slavers would soon be reclining in their fringed tokars to feast on lamb and olives, unborn puppies, honeyed dormice and other such delicacies, whilst outside her children went hungry. A sudden wild anger filled her. I will bring you down, she swore. (ASOS Daenerys V)

As the quote above shows, Dany's discomfort with the Meereenese slavers' privileges and traditions stems from the fact that they only have these things to begin with because they've maintained and benefitted from the slave trade for centuries. That's why she no longer enjoys eating puppies:

“...We give each boy a puppy on the day that he is cut. At the end of the first year, he is required to strangle it. Any who cannot are killed, and fed to the surviving dogs.” (ASOS Daenerys II)

“Good dog in Astapor, little queen. Eat?” He offered it with a greasy grin.

“That is kind of you, Belwas, but no.” Dany had eaten dog in other places, at other times, but just now all she could think of was the Unsullied and their stupid puppies. (ASOS Daenerys II)

Or why she asked Jhogo not to use the whip inside Astapor:

He stopped before a thickset man who had the look of Lhazar about him and brought his whip up sharply, laying a line of blood across one copper cheek. The eunuch blinked, and stood there, bleeding. “Would you like another?” asked Kraznys.

“If it please your worship.” (ASOS Daenerys II)

“Make way for the Mother of Dragons!” But when he uncoiled the great silverhandled whip that Dany had given him, and made to crack it in the air, she leaned out and told him nay. “Not in this place, blood of my blood,” she said, in his own tongue. “These bricks have heard too much of the sound of whips.” (ASOS Daenerys II)

Or why she considered banning the tokar, though she ultimately kept it in an attempt to help to make peace with the slavers:

Walking in a tokar demanded small, mincing steps and exquisite balance, lest one tread upon those heavy trailing fringes. It was not a garment meant for any man who had to work. The tokar was a master’s garment, a sign of wealth and power.

Dany had wanted to ban the tokar when she took Meereen, but her advisors had convinced her otherwise. “The Mother of Dragons must don the tokar or be forever hated,” warned the Green Grace, Galazza Galare. “In the wools of Westeros or a gown of Myrish lace, Your Radiance shall forever remain a stranger amongst us, a grotesque outlander, a barbarian conqueror. Meereen’s queen must be a lady of Old Ghis.” Brown Ben Plumm, the captain of the Second Sons, had put it more succinctly. “Man wants to be the king o’ the rabbits, he best wear a pair o’ floppy ears.” (ADWD Daenerys I)

Or why she was intent on keeping the fighting pits closed:

“Ask her if she wishes to view our fighting pits,” Kraznys added. “Douquor’s Pit has a fine folly scheduled for the evening. A bear and three small boys. One boy will be rolled in honey, one in blood, and one in rotting fish, and she may wager on which the bear will eat first.” (ASOS Daenerys II)

“Why?” she demanded, when Ithoke had finished. “You are no longer slaves, doomed to die at a master’s whim. I freed you. Why should you wish to end your lives upon the scarlet sands?” (ADWD Daenerys II)

Or, finally, why she chose to replace the previous throne for an ebony bench:

Her audience chamber was on the level below, an echoing high-ceilinged room with walls of purple marble. It was a chilly place for all its grandeur. There had been a throne there, a fantastic thing of carved and gilded wood in the shape of a savage harpy. She had taken one long look and commanded it be broken up for firewood. “I will not sit in the harpy’s lap,” she told them. Instead she sat upon a simple ebony bench. It served, though she had heard the Meereenese muttering that it did not befit a queen. (ASOS Daenerys VI)

All of these examples highlight that Dany struggles to accept the Meereenese slavers' culture because of her desire to end slavery and achieve equality. The quote from ASOS Daenerys V above could've easily been added in the show during a conversation between show!Dany and show!Missandei like this one.

Now, one could argue that this couldn't have happened in this episode because show!Dany hadn't yet a) seen the one hundred and sixty-three dead children, b) arrived in Meereen, c) seen the Great Pyramid and/or d) faced the risk of her people starve during the siege, all of which increase her righteous anger and determination to move forward with her crusade and do justice. That's true, but it leads to another question: why didn't they let this episode begin with show!Dany in Meereen like how ASOS Daenerys V begins, that is, with her having to face Meereen's champion?

Meereen was as large as Astapor and Yunkai combined. Like her sister cities she was built of brick, but where Astapor had been red and Yunkai yellow, Meereen was made with bricks of many colors. Her walls were higher than Yunkai’s and in better repair, studded with bastions and anchored by great defensive towers at every angle. Behind them, huge against the sky, could be seen the top of the Great Pyramid, a monstrous thing eight hundred feet tall with a towering bronze harpy at its top.

“The harpy is a craven thing,” Daario Naharis said when he saw it. “She has a woman’s heart and a chicken’s legs. Small wonder her sons hide behind their walls.”

But the hero did not hide. He rode out the city gates, armored in scales of copper and jet and mounted upon a white charger whose striped pink-and-white barding matched the silk cloak flowing from the hero’s shoulders. The lance he bore was fourteen feet long, swirled in pink and white, and his hair was shaped and teased and lacquered into two great curling ram’s horns. Back and forth he rode beneath the walls of multicolored bricks, challenging the besiegers to send a champion forth to meet him in single combat. (ASOS Daenerys V)

That's a problem that I have with how they adapted ASOS Daenerys V. The chapter can be divided in a list of four parts, which goes like this:

How Dany deals with Meereen's champion (this happens in episode 4.3)

Discussions on how to take Meereen (this never happens in the show)

Dany's thoughts on/flashbacks with Daario and Jorah (this more or less happens in episode 4.1; some are show only inventions)

Dany a) meeting her children and Mero and b) finding out the truth about her knights (a never happens; b happens in episodes 3.1 for show!Barristan and 4.8 for show!Jorah)

Despite being a chapter jam-packed with action and drama, the show adaptation diluted its impact by 1) fragmenting it, 2) overfocusing on certain parts over others, 3) creating new (and often unnecessary) scenes and 4) displaying its events out of the intended sequence. Problems 1-3 were already present in the adaptation of Dany's first four ASOS chapters, but I'd argue problem 4 is more serious in ASOS Daenerys V.

In the case of this particular scene, again, because it takes place before show!Dany reaches Meereen (and because the show writers never understood reasons 1 and 2 of why Dany's storyline matters), we don't get to see how her problems with the Meereenese slavers' culture are tied to their practice of slavery. This, unfortunately, is another case of the show undermining Dany's characterization from page to screen.

DAENERYS: You were told to ride at the back of the train.

DAARIO: Yes, My Queen. But I need to speak to you about something important. A matter of strategy.

MISSANDEI: Your Grace.

DAENERYS: All right, what is this matter of strategy?

DAARIO: A dusk rose.

DAENERYS: Would you like to walk at the back of the train instead of riding?

DAARIO: And this one’s called lady’s lace.

DAENERYS: Would you like to walk without shoes?

DAARIO: You have to know a land to rule it. Its plants, its rivers, its roads, its people. Dusk rose tea eases fever. Everyone in Meereen knows that. Especially the slaves who have to make the tea. If you want them to follow you, you have to become a part of their world.

DAARIO: Strategy. Harpy’s Gold. No tea from this one. Beautiful but poisonous.

DAENERYS: You are a gambler, aren’t you?

DAARIO: Your Grace.

This exchange is adapted from this part of ASOS Daenerys V:

On the road from Yunkai, Daario had brought her a flower or a sprig of some plant every evening when he made his report ... to help her learn the land, he said. Waspwillow, dusky roses, wild mint, lady’s lace, daggerleaf, broom, prickly ben, harpy’s gold ... (ASOS Daenerys V)

I have some problems with it, though. The first is that they have show!Daario tell show!Dany that she has "to know a land to rule it". In the books, at this point in time, Dany does not have any intention to stay and rule Meereen because she thinks that abolishing slavery was enough on its own; she only changes her mind after seeing the aftermath of the sack of Meereen, hearing news of Astapor (where her council was deposed and slavery is being reinstalled by a former slave named Cleon) and Yunkai (which was rumored to be making alliances with sellswords to defeat her) and understanding that her anti-slavery measures can be easily undone if she leaves so soon. Additionally, I dislike that they chose to only adapt a (veeery brief) scene from the chapter where she's shown to lack knowledge. Why not also adapt, for example, the scene in which she chooses Belwas to fight for her against Meereen's champion and we get to see her whole line of reasoning for doing so? That they even added the detail (that isn't in the books) about how a ruler should have knowledge of the region (which show!Dany doesn't yet) only adds salt to the wound, since it subtly indicates that the show writers themselves find her ineffective as a ruler when she certainly isn't.

The second problem is that show!Dany's feelings for show!Daario are not that clear onscreen in comparison to what we get in the books:

Dany found herself stealing looks at the Tyroshi when her captains came to council, and sometimes at night she remembered the way his gold tooth glittered when he smiled. That, and his eyes. His bright blue eyes. On the road from Yunkai, Daario had brought her a flower or a sprig of some plant every evening when he made his report ... to help her learn the land, he said. Waspwillow, dusky roses, wild mint, lady’s lace, daggerleaf, broom, prickly ben, harpy’s gold ... He tried to spare me the sight of the dead children too. He should not have done that, but he meant it kindly. And Daario Naharis made her laugh, which Ser Jorah never did.

Dany tried to imagine what it would be like if she allowed Daario to kiss her, the way Jorah had kissed her on the ship. The thought was exciting and disturbing, both at once. It is too great a risk. The Tyroshi sellsword was not a good man, no one needed to tell her that. Under the smiles and the jests he was dangerous, even cruel. Sallor and Prendahl had woken one morning as his partners; that very night he’d given her their heads. Khal Drogo could be cruel as well, and there was never a man more dangerous. She had come to love him all the same. Could I love Daario? What would it mean, if I took him into my bed? Would that make him one of the heads of the dragon? Ser Jorah would be angry, she knew, but he was the one who’d said she had to take two husbands. Perhaps I should marry them both and be done with it. (ASOS Daenerys V)

As one can see, Dany's crush on Daario is significant for highlighting a) how Dany is a romantic person who associates sexual attraction with love and marriage (hence why she compares Daario with her first husband) and b) how her feelings for Daario are tied to her desire to find a home or, in this case, someone who she can rely on (hence why she remembers the prophecy of the three heads of the dragon when she thinks of him).

It was particularly important to display her crush onscreen because of what happens later in ADWD. Unlike what certain people think, Dany's dilemma between Daario and Hizdahr doesn't just represent the choices that she needs to make as a ruler (war or peace), it also illustrates the clash between her main motivations, home and duty: Daario is the former (what Dany wants for herself) and Hizdahr is the latter (what Dany thinks she must do for her people).

Unfortunately, this doesn't come across in the show. To be fair, at least we get to see show!Dany shyly smiling here, but this will be undermined later. In episode 4.7, show!Daario will say:

DAARIO: Never met a woman who didn’t like wildflowers.

In episode 5.7, this is how show!Dany will answer to show!Daario's marriage proposal:

DAENERYS: Even if I wanted to do such an inadvisable thing, I couldn’t.

Then, in episode 6.10, this is what she tells show!Tyrion after rejecting show!Daario:

DAENERYS: Do you know what frightens me? I said farewell to a man who loves me. A man I thought I cared for. And I felt nothing.

I wouldn't be surprised if the show writers made these changes because they a) are among the readers who think that Dany is unlikable/irresponsible when she expresses her romantic feelings for Daario in the books (whereas I happen to think that that makes her more relatable) and b) wanted her to appear more regal (based on their ideas of what that means, of course) in the show because she's older, but, regardless of why they did so, this is quite a problem: if show!Dany isn't in love with show!Daario, her conflict becomes much less pronounced in comparison to her book counterpart's (which, as we'll see later as the show progresses, it did).

JORAH: There’s one on every mile marker between here and Meereen.

DAENERYS: How many miles are there between here and Meereen?

JORAH: One-hundred and sixty three, Your Grace.

BARRISTAN: I’ll tell our men to ride ahead and bury them. You don’t need to see this.

DAENERYS: You will do no such thing. I will see each and every one of their faces. Remove her collar before you bury her.

This is my favorite moment of the episode because it's a major example of how Dany's leadership style is defined by her desire to protect the ones who can't protect themselves (which applies to both book and show versions). Now that she wields power, she won't remain passive when she sees injustices occur, in fact, she'll want to confront them in order to remember why is it that she's fighting:

“I will see them,” she said. “I will see every one, and count them, and look upon their faces. And I will remember.”

By the time they came to Meereen sitting on the salt coast beside her river, the count stood at one hundred and sixty-three. I will have this city, Dany pledged to herself once more. (ASOS Daenerys VI)

Being a queen is not about self-gratification for Dany, it's about her responsibility and duty towards others, which is what this scene ultimately reinforces.

That being said, there are still some problems with the scene.

One, while the scene on its own does illustrate the kind of ruler (and person) that show!Dany is regardless of what the show writers were intending, I think that their primary intention was to provide shock value with the sight of the dead children (which is also the most likely reason as to why they succeeded in depicting how horrific the Unsullied's training was). If they had intended the scene to showcase show!Dany's selfless motivations like in the books, they wouldn't have later stated that her war in Slaver's Bay was defined by "that willingness to go forth and conquer all your enemies" or by how "she's not seeing the cost" (failure to understand reasons 1, 2 and 5 of why Dany's storyline matters). Unlike them, Dany knows that some wars are morally righteous because there are cases in which the status quo is not worthy of being uphold, especially not one that allows children to be murdered without their killers being punished (which also informs her views on Robert, his supporters and the Baratheon regime in general).

Two, the show leaves out the fact that, in the books, the Meereenese slavers burned their own city's lands in order to prepare for Dany's arrival:

The Great Masters of Meereen had withdrawn before Dany’s advance, harvesting all they could and burning what they could not harvest. Scorched fields and poisoned wells had greeted her at every hand. (ASOS Daenerys V)

This is important for two major reasons.

One, it raises the stakes of the conflict in the moment. If Dany continues to besiege the city for too long, her people will starve. If she gives up on conquering Meereen, on the other hand, not only slavery will remain, but her people will die of starvation on the way back to Westeros. If she wants to protect the freedmen that followed her, then, her only choice is to take Meereen.

Dany set great store by Ser Jorah’s counsel, but to leave Meereen untouched was more than she could stomach. She could not forget the children on their posts, the birds tearing at their entrails, their skinny arms pointing up the coast road. “Ser Jorah, you say we have no food left. If I march west, how can I feed my freedmen?”

“You can’t. I am sorry, Khaleesi. They must feed themselves or starve. Many and more will die along the march, yes. That will be hard, but there is no way to save them. We need to put this scorched earth well behind us.”

Dany had left a trail of corpses behind her when she crossed the red waste. It was a sight she never meant to see again. “No,” she said. “I will not march my people off to die.” My children. (ASOS Daenerys V)

Two, it raises the stakes of the conflict in ADWD. By scorching the fields, the slavers deprived Meereen of one of its main sources of income: olives. Now the city's economy is stagnant because it has neither olives nor slaves (because, as we know, Dany abolished slavery) to sell:

For centuries Meereen and her sister cities Yunkai and Astapor had been the linchpins of the slave trade, the place where Dothraki khals and the corsairs of the Basilisk Isles sold their captives and the rest of the world came to buy. Without slaves, Meereen had little to offer traders. Copper was plentiful in the Ghiscari hills, but the metal was not as valuable as it had been when bronze ruled the world. The cedars that had once grown tall along the coast grew no more, felled by the axes of the Old Empire or consumed by dragonfire when Ghis made war against Valyria. Once the trees had gone, the soil baked beneath the hot sun and blew away in thick red clouds. (ADWD Daenerys III)

“The sea provides all the salt that Qarth requires, but I would gladly take as many olives as you cared to sell me. Olive oil as well.”

“I have none to offer. The slavers burned the trees.” Olives had been grown along the shores of Slaver’s Bay for centuries; but the Meereenese had put their ancient groves to the torch as Dany’s host advanced on them, leaving her to cross a blackened wasteland. “We are replanting, but it takes seven years before an olive tree begins to bear, and thirty years before it can truly be called productive.” (ADWD Daenerys III)

However, because the show didn't bother to depict how the slavers destroyed their own city's fields, we don't get to see neither a) how it becomes harder for Dany to sustain a siege (and how conquering Meereen became her only choice if she wanted not only to free the slaves, but also to protect the freedmen that came with her) nor b) how, later, she struggles with reforming the city's economy (which is one of the many ways that the show adaptation undermined her political arc in ADWD).

For this review, there’s no comment of mine on any Inside the Episode because D&D’s Inside the Episode 4.1 doesn’t talk about show!Dany’s storyline. I’m not commenting on show!Dany’s clothes either because she’s wearing the same clothes from season three and I’ve talked about them before in past reviews.

#daenerys targaryen #asoiaf meta #asoiaf vs got #asos vs got #daario naharis #grey worm #rylona rhee #barristan selmy #s4 #a storm of swords #a dance with dragons

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