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batbobsession · 4 years

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So I saw the Hunchback of Notre Dame to alleviate the isolation...

Spoilers ahead.

With @lumiereswig‘s recent reblog of her Hadestown experience, I thought I’d share a musical that I saw virtually—the Hunchback of Notre Dame. This was not a Disney adaptation, I repeat, they took the good stuff from the movie and then told the story straight from the book.

And oh my gosh, it got dark, so spoilers ahead.

Frollo got humanized and it makes him more terrifying. First off, he’s played by Patrick Page, who, thanks to my recent research, plays Hades in Hadestown, and if that doesn’t draw parallels I don’t know what will

Anyway, Frollo has a brother who is actually a good person and elopes with a Roma woman. Frollo finds him dying and he gives Frollo his child, who is disfigured, and Frollo, giving us the first reason why we should hate him, tells his dying brother “wow, this thing is a monster because of your sins” and then his brother dies.

Of course, they sing the Dies Irae directly after—an indirect foreshadowing of Frollo’s death by Quasimodo’s hands

“The saints blessed him and the monsters protected him.” my GOODNESS what a line!

And my gosh, the way they introduce Quasimodo is so freaking genius. Michael Arden comes out like any regular man and then SMEARS HIS FACE WITH BLACK PAINT as Frollo ties the hump to his back (THE SYMBOLISM THERE OMG) and the bells descend from the curtains above as the chorus swells.

Also the chorus plays the statues and each one has its own personality. It’s so obvious that the statues’ voices are all Quasimodo’s inner psyche tugging him one way and then the other, and every time they speak they use small bells or cymbals to accent their words.

Also Quasimodo can barely speak…UNTIL HE SINGS. Arden has such an amazing, youthful voice, and I could feel his anxiety for freedom in “Out There.”

And then Frollo comes upstairs and RUINS EVERYTHING. He uses this kind but CONDESCENDING tone that just makes me want to throw something. Instead of ABC’s, Frollo tells Quasimodo the story of the flight into Egypt, when Mary, Joseph, and baby Jesus fled from the persecution of the firstborn and were protected by St. Aphrodisius—MORE FORESHADOWING. But they are so RUDELY interrupted by the Feast of Fools, and on that note

Phoebus is actually a cocky SOB—like sure, they sent me in just in case the festival goes awry, but all I’m really here for are the ladies, rest and recreation!

AND THEN CLOPIN SHOWS UP and introduces ESMERELDA and she dances and Phoebus is like “I’ve seen the face of an angel! I’ve been forever changed!”

With Quasimodo’s arrival they announce the contest for the king of fools, and that scene is pulled straight from the movie. Aside from a few little details, they didn’t change much.

And after all that Esmerelda chases him down and tries to apologize, but is stopped by Frollo, who’s like “ew, I know your kind, you practice dark magic” and Esmerelda’s like “if I had magic, I’d use it to save my people!” and Frollo is like “well shoot she’s smart” and then gets tempted

Esmerelda says something very Christian-like and Frollo is like “oh, you wish to be saved? Stay until the end of the service I’d be happy to teach you” and leaves and she sings “God Help the Outcasts” and holy moly does Ciara Renee have a voice or what

But at the end of the song she sees Quasimodo watching her and runs after him, and the statues are yelling at him to find a place to hide, quickly, quickly, she’ll see you

But she finds him and finds out he’s nearly deaf because of all the bells he’s been ringing all his life. He tells her he was talking to his friends and then berates himself, and Esmerelda’s like “No, that’s wonderful, I like your friends.” And Quasimodo’s face just lights up and immediately starts ringing the bells and telling them to sing for her—if that’s not the most wonderful show of affection I don’t know what is.

They both sing “The Top of the World” and throughout the whole thing Quasimodo slowly realizes that she’s not going to berate him like Frollo would and you just see him become more and more animated throughout the song. At the end of the song she kisses him on the cheek and you can tell, you can tell that’s the first time he’s been kissed at all

And then Frollo comes upstairs and RUINS EVERYTHING. “Quasimodo what were you doing ringing the bells off-schedule?” He turns and sees Esmerelda and is all like “oh, I thought you had left! I can still teach you the ways of the church, just stay here forever.” And Esmerelda, bless her soul, actually turns him down politely. “I don’t think this is a good idea.” Frollo reaches for her hand and she backs away. “I see the way you look at me.”

Frollo jumps back like he’s been stung by the most overdramatic wasp in the world “hOW DARE YOU! Your soul is so unclean you can’t see goodness in others!” And calls the guards on her.

And then he berates Quasimodo for having impure thoughts and the gargoyles whisper around him, like snakes in the shadows as Quasimodo promises to never again think about her.

AND THEN STALKS HER TO A TAVERN. Okay, it’s indirect but stalking all the same. And watches Esmerelda and Phoebus fall in love.

Then we get into Heaven’s Light, and Quasimodo has seen the true face of God, because there is a human down there who isn’t afraid of him, who touched his face and suddenly the darkness is filled with light, a light so bright it must be from Heaven…

And the next song is literally the flipside of Heaven’s Light; while Quasimodo sings about how pure and open Esmerelda was to him, Frollo clutches Esmerelda’s scarf and sings of Hellfire. And I mean, Hellfire was the most dramatic part of the movie for me, so this part was a little underwhelming…but Page carried that entire scene. My GOODNESS his voice. And him stumbling around as the saints look down on him and berate him while Frollo just keeps repeating “It’s not my fault!” Like, you can tell he believes what he says but he knows there’s evil in him now (I mean, there was evil in him before, but the sneaky kind) as the lights slowly change from blue to red, closing in on him until everything is bathed in a hellish glow…

And for the rest of the musical he wears a black and red cape over his otherwise white robes, showing how he has fallen and is acting on his own urges.

He visits the prison—literally swoops in like a bat from hell with his new cape—and King Louis XI is there overlooking the prison and he just looks at Frollo and goes “oH! My astrologer told me I would have an unexpected guest!” Frollo just…. dies inside. I lost it.

Anyway he manipulates the king to give the church military power and now soldiers are going left and right searching for Esmerelda; they come to a brothel and the women refuse to talk and Frollo’s like “fine, burn it down.” and Phoebus is like “whoa, hell no.” and Frollo shrugs, stabs him in the back, and blames Esmerelda

We interrupt this moment to remind you that everyone in the chorus is literally an angel and together they sound like an actual cathedral choir, thank you for your time.

Meanwhile Quasimodo’s like “oh shoot, what do I do? I want to protect her” and the statues tell him to go after her, find her and protect her like St. Aphrodisius protected Mary. Quasimodo is still unsure, but St. Aphrodisius himself comes out of his stained-glass window and gives Quasimodo his blessing (and a bit of unneeded comedy along with it).

Esmerelda makes Quasimodo take care of Phoebus, Quasimodo lies to Frollo for the first time, and Frollo’s like, well, we found her hideout, we attack at dawn.

Phoebus and Quasimodo have the same chemistry in the musical as they do in the movie. “You can barely speak!” “You can hardly walk!” Their arguments are funny, but just like the movie, Clopin finds them and is like “well, they’re gonna hang!” Esmerelda stops it, and Frollo shows up and RUINS EVERYTHING.

Frollo has her locked up, he confesses his love in literally one of the most horrifying ways a person can confess. He starts out soft, believing that he can save her, rescue her from dark magic and be her sanctuary forever. He says Esmerelda has made him feel human…and then tries to force her to kiss him. She strikes him. “Help, a demon! Help me, please!” (FINALLY, someone shows him the respect he deserves)

Phoebus and Esmerelda grieve over what’s going to happen, and when they sang “Someday” I cried.

But the song that shook me to my very core was “Made of Stone” where Quasimodo is tied to a post while the statues plead for him to do something and Quasimodo yells back, “I’ve wasted my faith believing in saints of plaster, but the only one worth believing in was my master”

“Take all the dreams you’ve sown, take all your lies and leave me alone!”

“All right, Quasimodo, we’ll leave you alone All right, Quasimodo, we’ll trouble you no longer You’re right, Quasimodo, we’re only made of stone We just thought that you were made of something stronger.”

And when he sings the last line….HOLY. HELL. I just…I don’t have words for that.

But he quickly changes his mind and rescues Esmerelda from the fire. The choir swells again, singing the Dies Irae, as Quasimodo lays waste to the crowd outside Notre Dame with giant rocks and molten lead. Phoebus rallies the crowd into rebellion. As chilling as this scene is, I think “Oh, now it’s gonna be like the movie, right?” NO.

She dies. The smoke got to her or something. But she definitely dies. And Quasimodo’s talk with Frollo doesn’t end with Frollo pulling a knife. It’s sad, and slow, and Quasimodo finally comes to the terms with the abuse he’s been living with while they both grieve over her death in different ways. The shock on Quasimodo’s face as Frollo repeats the same pious talk of sanctuary just after killing someone…at this point, I want Frollo dead, obviously.

And so does Quasimodo. He stands up straight for the first time and we see…he’s taller than Frollo, and that scares him. “The wicked shall not go unpunished,” he says. “The wicked shall not go unpunished,” echo the statues. The Dies Irae swells one final time as Quasimodo drags Frollo to the balcony, lifts him up—“I told you, master. I am very strong.”

“You don’t want to hurt me!” Yes you do, whisper the monsters.

“Quasimodo raised his two huge hands, and with a great bellow threw his master over the edge of the roof and into the abyss below!” And I am chilled to the bone. Thanks for that.

And then Phoebus arrives cuz he missed everything. He can’t even lift her up, and they’re both grieving.

Then the chorus—they are seriously the best chorus in the history of ever—approach Quasimodo one at a time, smearing black paint on their faces and hunching over. Quasimodo sets Esmerelda down and turns his back to the audience. The ghost of Quasimodo’s mother sings for him. Esmerelda gets up and walks through the doors to eternal salvation. She turns back to look at him. He stands up and faces the audience, no longer hunched over, not a speck of paint on his face.

“What makes a monster, and what makes a man?”

And the chorus swells, and they all bow, and I want to see it again. So I watch it again, because that’s the beauty of the digital age.

#The Hunchback of Notre Dame #musical #patrick page #michael arden #ciara renee

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elencelebrindal · 4 years

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Honest Opinion - Pandora

I will not be able to post anything this long and, for me, complicated for the next three or four days, as I won’t have a stable internet connection. Though, if you have something to ask me, or want to request me something to write (with or without pairings, about Saint Seiya or about other fandoms, etc...) I will gladly read everything, answer what I can (if it’s a short answer) and write down any longer answers. My inbox is always open if you want to chat or request stuff, you just have to be a little bit patient.

Overall score (character, not looks): 10/10

Hades Chapter: Sanctuary

I know some of the information in this part are technically from the Inferno chapter, but they fit better here in terms or chronology.

Overall score: 10/10

I have to admit, she was one of the most fleshed out characters of the entire chapter, despite having so little screen time. Definitely one of the most important characters as well.

Let’s go in order.

Pandora is the reason why everything happened. Why the Holy War was able to occur. As we learn in her backstory, she pretty much opened the Pandora’s Box of Saint Seiya and unleashed the “demons” within. Thanatos and Hypnos, who burdened her with a tragic backstory and with Hades’ soul. Despite being a child, she then tried to take Shun away from Ikki and, even if she failed in doing so, still successfully placed Hades’ soul into him.

She basically grew up surrounded by death, never leaving the castle that was her family’s, and stayed faithful to Hades because of what Thanatos and Hypnos told her. Pandora’s schemes for the Holy War also worked incredibly well, and hadn’t it been for Rhadamanthys and his dramatic attitude no loss would have been registered among Hades’ ranks. She also was prepared to an eventual betrayal from the resurrected Saints, and acted accordingly.

Her calm attitude in every situation made me love her, she really showed enough willpower to be a good leader with Hades still in the process of awakening, but also showed a clever mind and an incredible adaptability.

Hades Chapter: Inferno

Overall score: 10/10

I was not ready for the emotional roller coaster her character made me go through when I signed up for this chapter. First, she’s a badass woman that doesn’t even hesitate before plunging a trident into a chest of flowers just to make sure no one was in it. We know there were Seiya and Shun in that thing (how the f-), of course, but she only suspected a betrayal. And still tried to horrendously kill with no second thoughts.

Now, the whole thing involving Orphée, Euridice and Pharaoh is messed up on so many levels I cannot count them, but it was something I kindly appreciated for one reason: it was her scheming about that and not Hades in some spiritual way. She had her kinda twisted reasons behind it, but damn.

She remained close to Hades for the entirety of this chapter, following his orders and trying to protect him when Ikki attempted at his life thanks to Shun’s rebellion. That is... until she realized what was going on. Hades left with Athena, his entire army was basically annihilated, and she had nothing left but the empty promise of immortality and a necklace that gave her the ability to travel in any dimension. So, Pandora did the only thing that was left. She gave her necklace to Ikki, after trying to convince him that he was better off away from the fight, and accepted her fate; she knew Thanatos was going to kill her for her betrayal, but still managed to greatly offer her help.

And if this is not an amazing character arc, very detailed and yet short, I don’t know what is.

#saint seiya #i cavalieri dello zodiaco #los caballeros del zodiaco #os cavaleiros do zodiaco #hades chapter #pandora #my opinion #honest opinion

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protectwoc · 5 years

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The Problem with Mal (part 3/3)

The Solution

This part of the essay is where we’re going to get into more opinion based stuff rather than facts or actual analysis, so if this is where you check out I don’t blame you. But I believe that with a little reworking the Descendants franchise could have reached its full potential story-wise. This reworking centers around one general idea:

The movies would have been better if Mal had not been the protagonist. Specifically, Evie should have been the protagonist of D1, Uma should have been the protagonist of D2, and they should have co-lead D3.

To truly discuss this thesis, we’re going to have to turn some literary techniques on its head. Bear with me everybody.

To start, let’s look at one particular literary device which I find most relevant to this discussion, that of a foil. Wikipedia defines a foil as “a character who contrasts with another character, usually the protagonist, to highlight qualities of the other character… A foil usually either differs dramatically or is extremely similar but with a key difference setting them apart.” Essentially, a foil provides a “what-if?” to another character, usually the protagonist.

Evie and Uma are both foils to Mal, but of different types. Evie’s character is radically different from Mal’s on both superficial and significant levels. On the other hand, Uma’s character is very similar to Mal’s, with a few key differences that make Uma a more compelling POV character. Unfortunately, while foils are usually intended to highlight positive qualities of the protagonist, Mal’s foils serve to show us what a missed opportunity the Descendants writers had.

Let’s compare and contrast Mal with these other two characters. We’ll start with Evie.

Motivation

What is Mal’s motivation throughout D1? In part one we decided her over-arching motivation is self-interest, specifically power and opportunity. However, if we look simply at D1, we can also see a different, more charitable motivation for her: To make her mother proud.

This is particularly interesting because it is one of the few places where Mal’s character and Evie’s intersect. As we’ve already noted, Mal and Evie are starkly different characters. Evie is more traditionally feminine, more sensitive, and shows more generally positive emotions like kindness and compassion than Mal does. In the background of many scenes (such as Mal’s dragon fight with Hades on the bridge in D3), Evie can be seen checking up on the other characters and making sure they are okay. Strangely enough, even though Mal is ostensibly the protagonist/POV character, we know more about who Evie is than Mal. Evie is, for some reason, gifted a rich inner life that even the main character is not allowed. We know Evie is interested in science and fairly adept at it, she is proficient in many homemaking activities such as sewing and cooking, and she helps Ben with the legislation for the VK project. We also know that she has a strong, steady relationship with her boyfriend that does not stop her from becoming a successful businesswoman who runs her own fashion line. The viewers are not actually told much about who Mal is beside her relationship with Ben and her talent with graffiti. Oh, and her middle name is Bertha I guess.

But for all these differences between these characters, the one place that they align is their D1 goals. Mal and Evie both go into the wand-stealing plan with the intention of making their mothers proud, but even though these motivations are the same on paper, I would argue that this motivation is better handled with Evie’s storyline than Mal’s.

Consider the relationships between Mal and her mother and Evie and her mother throughout D1. Unlike Evie, Mal is actually shown as having a sometimes-positive relationship with her mother. Maleficent pays her “compliments” (see: “That’s my nasty little girl”). She tells Mal that she intends for them to rule Auradon together with “matching thrones” and “hers and hers crowns.” There is even a whole song in D1 that revolves around Mal receiving encouragement from her mother, albeit an imaginary one.

On the other hand, The Evil Queen instilled in Evie anxiety over her physical appearance and relationship status and an intense inferiority complex. The only time she pays Evie a compliment comes when they are video chatting in front of the Fairy Godmother and all of the parents are putting on a facade. In their first scene together, Grimhilda charges Evie with “just finding (herself) a prince with a big castle” and then reprimands her for laughing because it will cause wrinkles.

As a consequence of this difference in parenting styles, Evie has a much stronger motivation to impress her mother than Mal does. Every decision that Evie makes in D1 is a result of this motivation, most notably in her side plot with Chad and Doug, whereas gaining Maleficent’s approval does not factor as heavily into Mal’s decision-making process, as seen in her relationship with Ben.

So it makes sense that given the two differing relationships between these daughters and mothers, Evie’s desire to impress her mother would be much stronger than Mal’s because she has never truly gotten it before. I’m not denying that Mal and Evie were both the victims of abusive parenting, and of course, in the real world, people respond to different levels of abuse in different but equally valid ways. However, in a Disney Channel Original Movie, a brand that is not known for its subtlety, it makes more sense that from a writing standpoint Evie has a much stronger motivation and a much higher stake in this wand-stealing plan.

Arc

If I were to ask a random Descendants fan what Mal’s arc in D1 was, what is the most likely answer I would receive? Probably that she learned to be good rather than evil, I imagine. What about Evie? Probably that she learned she didn’t need a prince to have value, or maybe not to change herself for a man. Now, based on D2 and D3, which of these characters actually fulfilled that arc?

We can’t say that Mal “learned to be good” because she never actually learned to be good. Whatever lesson Mal learned in D1 didn’t stop her from trying to magically manipulate Ben at the beginning of D2, or trying to permanently banish all the VKs to the Isle in D3. What’s the point of claiming to be on the side of good if your actions don’t corroborate that?

On the other hand, Evie experienced actual growth over the three movies. In D1, we saw her struggle to find validation somewhere other than the nearest available prince, but later learn that she could take pride in her academic capabilities and her aptitude for clothing design. In D2, she continued to build her business with support from her non-prince boyfriend, and later find a new purpose in the plights of the VKs who remained on the Isle. And finally in D3, although we saw more of her relationship with Doug, we also saw her continue to fight for the remaining VKs, building her relationship with Dizzy, and once again continuing to grow her fashion line.

Evie, unlike Mal, actually had one continuous arc with true upward growth. Now, imagine, if you will, what D1 would have looked like with the story shifted to center Evie instead of Mal. It would be a largely similar story, but with a few key changes that would enhance the overall quality.

Removing Mal as the main character of D1 would allow for some actual conflict within the group as well as outside of it. Imagine a core four, led by Evie, that features Mal as her questionably-aligned best friend/number two. Evie and the boys begin to experience doubts about the benefits of their plan, but throughout the movie, Mal remains strong, reminding them that they are “rotten to the core.” Evie is conflicted, with her innate desire to be good and love of the sanctuary Auradon provides warring with her desire to please her mother and her acknowledgment that Mal may have a point. At the finale, Evie, Carlos, and Jay make the decision to stand up for good, and Mal joins them begrudgingly but fondly. Wouldn’t that have been a better, richer conflict than the “Mal feels pulled between her evil habits and the boy she has a crush on” plotline that we got?

Evie is closer to Carlos and probably Jay than Mal is. We see this in all of her background actions, but wouldn’t it have been nice to see these relationships, and these characters, brought into the forefront of the story?

Evie’s general kindness, generosity, and dedication to doing the right thing make her a protagonist you can actually root for, but it also proves Ben’s original argument, and the argument of the whole movie, that the VKs are not predisposed to evil simply because of who their parents are. This argument rings a little hollow as the story stands because its main example is not actually a good person. With Evie in the center of this story, this theme is actually valid.

Positioning Evie as the main character also means that the next two villains of the movies are not direct results of the actions of the character who is supposed to be the protagonist.

Now let’s look at Uma, and how she compares to Mal. Uma’s character is particularly interesting because unlike Evie, she and Mal are very similar. There are, however, a few key differences that make her a more compelling protagonist than Mal

Motivation

This topic has been done to death in fandom, so I won’t dwell too deeply on it, but it’s no secret that Uma’s motivation was handled better than Mal’s at essentially every level. Uma’s story as it was shown in D2 was so well written, in fact, that I was surprised that it came out of a DCOM, and a sequel to boot. The writers did an excellent job of giving Uma a sympathetic, well-fleshed out, compelling character. The only place they fumbled was in remembering two-thirds of the way through that she was supposed to be the villain.

It is strange, however, that in a story that revolves around children finally being set free from an unfair life sentence of prison and poverty, that its villain’s motivation is to continue to liberate these children while its supposed main character actively works against this goal. It is even stranger that in D3, presumably after they saw the massive internet and fan reaction to Uma’s character and motivation, that they doubled down on this distinction instead of rectifying it.

Arc

This section was originally going to be on character arcs, but it is hard to analyze Uma’s

because she doesn’t really… have one. She doesn’t need one, because her character starts out from a place of moral superiority over Mal’s. It could be argued that in D3 she learns to work with others, but even that isn’t supported by the source material because she never actually had to learn that lesson. She already works fine with the rest of her pirate crew, the Sea Three, and even the original VKs, shown in her musical support of Evie during the “One Kiss” song, albeit with, again, a copious amount of eye-rolling. The only one she has a conflict with is Mal (for good reason) and she never truly had to learn to play nice with Mal or to amend her behavior at all because she was always in the right. That brings me to my true second point…

#umadeservedbetter/#umawasright, or, Actions

This is where we examine the actions of these two characters. On paper, Mal and Uma have very similar character traits, but the actions they take within those constraints prove them to be very different people.

Leadership

Mal and Uma are both hailed as leaders within their respective groups, to the point that there is an entire song in D3 that centers around them vying for leadership of their temporarily-combined groups. However, this comparison does not shine favorably on Mal’s leadership skills. Uma has followers because she fights for them. She works tirelessly to get them off the Isle, and then to get back to them when they are separated. Mal never shows this same care for Evie, Jay, or Carlos. When Harry struggles climbing out of the ocean during the big “It’s Goin’ Down” fight scene, Uma goes back to help him without a second thought, sacrificing her revenge in the process. Do we ever see any indication that Mal would make the same choice if it came down to her end goal vs. her friends?

2. Strategy

If you asked a random fan, they would probably say that Mal and Uma are pretty intelligent characters, and they would probably be right. Uma, however, is the only one with any tactical aptitude. In D2 Mal foolishly and callously rejects her friends’ help and goes to face Uma alone, where she is tricked into agreeing to trade Ben for the wand. Then later, Mal’s plan for how to trick Uma with the fake wand is to just “get him [Ben] out of there really fast,” which fails miserably. After that, her solution to every problem is “turn into a dragon,” which is only actually helpful one of the three times she does it. Uma on the other hand is a pretty efficient strategist. In D3 she captures Ben smoothly and only turns him back over after seeing a pretty convincing display of the fake wand’s power. In D3 every plan Uma suggests comes to fruition. In “Night Falls” she orders the group to hold the line in the back while she goes to the front, while Mal thinks they should take left and right sides, respectively. However, as the chorus and next verse start, you can clearly see that they ended up following Uma’s plan, albeit with her and Mal at the front instead of just Uma. Later she suggests that they split up and search Audrey’s dorm, which they do, and they end up finding her diary which leads them to her cottage. Mal herself acknowledges that this was a good idea. The only maybe strategically unsound decision that Uma makes (spelling Ben into falling in love with her which has historically not been successful) is a decision that Mal also made, so I can’t necessarily take points off of either one for that.

3. Choosing “Good”

We’ve already established that Mal has failed astronomically at actually, honestly, switching to the side of good, but Uma manages to start out at a higher ground than Mal and then grow from there. We see Mal pull stunts like taking candy from a baby, graffiting walls around the Isle, and kicking over the merchandise in the Isle’s bazaar/shopping center, but we never see Uma do anything like this, except maybe yell at a patron in the Chip Shoppe. She isn’t cruel to her crew for kicks; she doesn’t even throw Gil out when he calls her Shrimpy, Harry does that. Her motives have always been noble and inclusive of others besides herself. Then, we see her go through the only growth left to her in D3 when she puts her pride behind her to help Mal save Celia and defeat Audrey. We never see Mal go through this type of growth, with the possible exception of her deciding to free all the children and bring down the barrier at the end of D3… WHICH WAS UMA’S ENTIRE PLAN FROM THE JUMP OOOOOHHHH MY GOD WE HAD A WHOLE MOVIE TRYING TO PREVENT THIS VERY THING AND FOR WHAT? IS BRINGING DOWN THE BARRIER ONLY BAD WHEN UMA SUGGESTS IT? BUT NOW THAT IT’S MAL’S IDEA IT IS JUST A-OK I GUESS OOOOOHHH, MY GOD. #UMAWASRIGHT #UMADESERVESBETTER

Ahem. Anyway…

Were these movies framed differently, Evie and Uma would have been the protagonists from the start. Interestingly enough, Evie and Uma serve as foils to Mal both on a story level, and a real-world level. They serve not just as a what-if to Mal’s in-character decisions, but also as a “what if the writers had framed the story to match their writing?” Because here’s the thing, the writers knew what they were doing. They acknowledged Uma’s similarities to Mal as early as D2, with Ben’s “angry girl with a bad plan” comment, but then a few scenes later they chose to position her as a villain anyway. They knew that having Mal suggest closing the barrier permanently in D3 would position her against the rest of the VKs, particularly Evie, and they even wrote a beautiful disagreement for them that could have led to some actual growth for Evie and Mal’s characters. And then a few minutes later Evie, Jay, and Carlos have just… forgiven her, with basically no effort on Mal’s part. Most egregiously of all, they know that Mal did at the end of D3 exactly what Uma was trying to do for all of D2, and they treated Uma like a villain for it. They even have Uma’s character acknowledge this but have basically no problem with it!

This, I think, is why I had such a problem with Mal, and why it grew so aggressively. Bad writing is one thing, but bad writing that is self-aware and yet makes no motion to deal with itself is another. This is basically the end of this entirely-too-long meta/rant. I’ve never been good with conclusions, I just kind of… run out of things to talk about and deflate like a helium balloon. But if there are any points I missed, any other topics to discuss, feel free to let me know. I highly doubt anyone has actually finished this whole essay, but if you did, just know you’re my favorite person. Until next time I guess.

#Disney's Descendants #descendants #Descendants 2 #descendants 3 #anti mal #anti mal bertha #uma descendants #uma deserves better #anti bal #evie grimhilde #audrey descendants #audrey deserves better #raetalks #meta

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thejapanesemapletree · 4 years

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A l l O f T h e m. 31: Seiya/Shiryu 42: Ikki

Okay, wig

1: How long have you been in the fandom? Like uhhhh a month or two, from around the mid of November.

2: Favorite character? Aiolos because I adore He.

3: Favorite Bronze Saint? JABU. I love him because he is so fucking stupid. Himbo Rights.

4: Favorite Silver Saint? Marin!

5: Favorite Gold Saint? Aiolos! I also like Mu because he is a good dad.

6: OTP? (Me/Aiolos) Hyoga/Shun is the only one I have read fics for, so probably that lmao.

7: Other ships? I think Camus/Milo is funny because they seem like that couple that has constant explosive breakups and then get back together the next day.

8: Favorite Saga? (Sanctuary - Asgard - Poseidon- Hades) I luv the classic Twelve Temples Arc and meeting all the Gold Saints.

9: Favorite Female Saint? MARIN MY GIRL

10: Favorite God/Goddess? (Hades - Athena - Poseidon- Odin-ETC) I vibe with Apollo and the armor crop top he has going on.

11: Favorite Movie? If the Hades OVAs count... yes.

12: Headcanons you have? All the female saints are bisexual and you cannot change my mind.

13: How did you join the fandom? I was researching anime/cartoons that are popular in Latin America for a school project, and lo and behold... Saint Seiya.

14: When did you join the fandom? When I was doing the research in November or so.

15: Why did you join the fandom? I decided to watch a few episodes of the anime on Netflix to Get Woke about it in order to discuss it, and then I was sucked in never to return.

16: You have a crush on a character? Which one? HHHHHH I love Aiolos;;;

17: Saddest character death? AIOLOS!!! He did not deserve his fate :(

18: Saddest backstory? If you don’t say Ikki here then you’re wrong.

19: Saddest/Most tragic Love Story? Miho and Seiya because Miho treated Seiya better than Saori usually does lmao. There are not a whole lot of canon love stories so IDK what else.

20: Opinion on Athena/Saori? I like how her coming into herself as a goddess also parallels her becoming a better and more caring person, especially towards the people risking her lives for her.

21: Manga or Anime? Anime. All-The-Bronze-Saints-Being-Related? I don’t know her.

22: Do you want to cosplay as anyone? I’m planning on making an armor Shun cosplay and a Kiki cosplay for a con in August uwu

23: Moment that made you cry? Not cry really, but Aiolos’ death and the kiddies finding his last writing in his temple were both OOF

24: Moment that made you laugh? When Misty ripped his clothes off for his vain, dramatic scene, and Seiya just rose out of the ocean and basically said, “You put your clothes back on and let’s finish this.”

25: Moment that made you Facepalm? ALL THAT REVERSE BLOODFLOW ACUPUNCTURE BULLSHIT. LEARN BASIC MEDICINE PLEASE.

26: Favourite pair of brothers? Shun and Ikki!

27: Favourite pair of twins? Saga and Kanon are the only ones I really know lmao

28: Thoughts on the “Galactic Tournament”? YOU’RE MAKING 13 YEAR OLDS FIGHT TO DEATH ON TELEVISION EXCUSE ME??? MA’AM???

29: Least favorite character? Let Deathmask and Shura know,,, I just wanna talk.

30: If I could make two characters interact more, who would they be? I wish Poseidon and Hades had some interaction just so I can see Ancient God Brother shenanigans lmao

31: Opinion on [ship name] [Seiya/Shiryu]? TBH when I first watched the series and Seiya and Shiryu were acting all goofy and nice with each other I was like damn... they should kiss. But then Shunrei appeared lmao

32: If you could kill a character, who would it be? I would kill Shura again just because I’m that spiteful. But also, Tatsumi should get a fucking prison sentence for how he treated the Bronze Saints as kids lmao

33: Saga or Kanon? Kanon

34: If you could bring a character back to life, who would it be? Me, leaning into the mic: Aiolos. (But also his bro, Aiolia)

35: Marin or Shaina? Why would you pit them against each other they’re GFs :(

36: Favorite character backstory? Hyoga’s backstory with his mom is so OOF, but also so good

37: Least favorite character backstory? RIP to Shion turning his back to Saga for one second and getting obliterated but I’m different (I also think the plot point of a character having TWO PERSONALITIES AND ONE IS EVIL UWU is so overrated smh)

38: Do you have any merch? I just ordered some pins >:)

39: Favorite chapter? Seeing the backstory with Aiolos training Aiolia... chefs kiss

40: Character you wish hadn’t died? Aiolos Cassios did not deserve his his fate either :( And Esmerelda!!! Damn!

41: Character you would give more Screen Time? MY LASS, MIHO (And also Jabu)

42: Opinion on *insert name* [Ikki]? The Watchful Twunk over a pack of feral teen Twinks... he is a dearly needed part of the team

43: Favourite Teacher/Sensei? At the risk of saying Marin again, I also like Dohko because he LOVES HIS KIDS

44: Most wasted character? All the other Bronze Saints besides the main ones tbh

45: NOTP? If you ship Saori with people TWICE HER AGE, or people MYTHOLOGICALLY RELATED TO HER, you will die by my hand

46: Favorite AU? AU where Aiolos lives I think an AU where Aiolos actually becomes the Pope and raises Saori/Athena as his own bean would be cool

47: Favorite character from the Hades Saga? Pandora is Goth GF material

48: Most attractive character? Aiolos Shaka, despite being the world’s largest prick, is also very beautiful. Shaina is also an attractive young lady.

49: Favourite Song? PEGASUS FANTASY (the Latin American Spanish version is lit)

50: After Saga’s death… who would you nominate to be the New Pope? Mu, following in the footsteps of his master, is a Gold Saint with his shit together, as seen by his parenting of Kiki, and he therefore would make a good Pope.

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blueyemxn · 5 years

Text

My Persephone (Pt. 3)

Giver of Life

Spoiler Warning: Content below contains spoilers for the lvl 80 Shadowbringers MSQ, if you have not reached this point in the game and do not wish to be spoiled please refrain from reading. Otherwise enjoy my trash shipping at your own risk.

Mature Warning: The content below features mature themes pertaining to blood, swearing, and descriptive injuries.

Relationship: Emet-SelchxWoL

Ao3 Story - Here Part One: Here Part Two: Here Part Four: Here Part Five: Here Part Six: Here

“Yes, you certainly would love that wouldn’t you?” He asked, a sort of venom in his tone as he looked at a hastily written letter. He cared not for the wanted secrecy between Persephone and her mother, only that she had been so kind as to mention where it was, this sanctuary. All he had to do was make haste from his current location, determination in his step; determination not to lose anyone else in this accursed war Hydaelyn brought to the planet.

Thankfully, he knew all the shortcuts in the city and whatever blocked his way was met with a variety of spells to deal with a variety of problems. He tried to be conservative, only opting to use when necessary, but it was already taking a toll on his body. He was sweating profusely, his legs trembled and he had a hard time walking without staggering and risk falling flat on his face. There was also dust everywhere that hadn’t settled from the buildings that had collapsed; his lungs felt constricted so catching his breath was an agonizingly slow process. It felt like his was dying along with the world around him. But he wasn’t going to stop, he couldn’t stop, she was all he had left. He wasn’t going to lose her too.

He couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t lose her. Not now. Not ever. He won’t. He won’t. He won’t. HE WON’T. HE CAN’T—

STOP!

A thought, a voice nearly caused him to tumble over as it permeated all of the scattered thoughts inside his mind. Hades stood straight, trying to assess where it had been coming from. At first he thought it was a plea for help, but where he currently was, that was nigh improbable; which only meant one person.

Persephone!

With his mind and soul, Hades reaches out to the source, desperately trying to prompt a response. He went to take a step forward as worry clouded his mind, but at that moment a disturbance caught his attention and he saw something large in his peripheral vision. A whip-like appendage soared towards him, the tip razor sharp to use as a piercing weapon for any creature it snagged on. Luckily for him, it only made it to the side of his cheek before it snapped away suddenly.

He peered over to see it’s host body, pummeled into the ground by a bare-footed, half sized Amaurotine with pink hair and fierce pink eyes that blended in well with the red consuming her sclera. The air fizzed, static heating up the area as what seemed like lightening curled over her form, sending shock waves and denting the ground into the size of a small crater.

Flesh squished between her toes as her weight crushed the monster, making sure to give a few extra points of muscle in her legs just in case. When there was no movement, Persephone took a deep sigh and the charged air around her dissipated, her eyes changing back to normal.

He continued to stare, frozen in place and unable to summon his voice, but managed to make a step towards her. She looked like her normal self despite her clothing being torn in various places and the bags underneath her eyes. But other than those peculiar features she was fine; in fact, there wasn’t a scratch on her as far as he could tell.

“Persephone…” Finally he found his voice, though it was more like a whisper when he desired to call to her. Not that it mattered, she noticed him right away and that smile he had loved shown itself on her face.

“Hades! Are you okay?” She asked, jumping down with ease after staggering once. “You didn’t get hurt by that thing did you?”

It took him a moment before he managed to give a signature quirk of the brow; him getting hurt? “Me? Hurt? Persephone, might I remind you that I’m one of the Convocation? ‘Tis nothing but a scratch at most I assure you.” He paused. “Though I suppose your timely arrival did save me an inconvenience. Bravo, hero!”

Ah there it was, the dramatic arrogance that she was so used to. It was nice to know that he seemed to be okay... still—

“Don’t patronize me! This is a serious situation right now!” Persephone narrowed her eyes, wondering exactly what it would take for Hades not to be a teasing bastard if not the end of the world.

“I am being serious, my dear Persephone, though it is not I you should be worrying about.” He took a slow step forward, eyes gazing down at her, back hunched and arms behind said backside as if he were analyzing her. “You look far worse for wear, how long have you been here fighting off those things?” He asked, gaze a bit more accusatory than she would have liked, Persephone really didn’t need him to try and guilt trip her from her own decisions.

“I’m fine. Do you see any wounds or scratches? No? Then you can stop acting like I can’t take care of myself.” In her heart she knew that he was just worried, but even at the end of the world people seemed to treat her as if she were a child, even with this gift of strength she had been given.

She couldn’t understand and she really, really hated it.

“Anyway, we need to—” Persephone half turned, ready to move on from the subject when another appendage came out of nowhere and pierced right through her shoulder. “Oh fuck that hurts!” She growled before grabbing the appendage and ripping it out of her shoulder, doing her best to ignore the pain and blood gushing from the wound. Instead she focused her attention on the monster which was a near identical to the one she just killed, just way smaller; an easy kill.

Wrapping the appendage around her hand and gripping it with her Olympian strength, she pulled it towards her and subsequently punched it so hard that most of the organic flesh within splattered out and oozed onto the ground, killing it instantly.

She touched her shoulder lightly, but couldn’t even breathe a sigh of relief before Hades grasped at her. “Tsk, tsk, still reckless as ever I see, you should be more careful hero." He said before his hand reached out for her shoulder, but Persephone took his wrist, shaking her head.

“Hades, its fine—” she started to say, but the tightening grip on her arm and the look he gave her signaled a defiance of whatever it was she was going to say. But she wasn’t going to back down either. “Don’t— look, just watch.” She said as her eyes directed to her shoulder as it started glowing, the wound closing on its own.

Hades peered closer, eyes squinting and even touching where had been moments before. There wasn’t even a scar or any sign that there had been a wound there at all, save for where her clothes were torn. “See? I’m okay, my wounds heal up on their own.” She was smiling as always, but he could tell she was strained. Her skin was lackluster compared that beautiful bronze he loved to kiss and touch and her eyes had lost some of the fire that completely enamored him.

Persephone’s expression then changed, as if she had just remembered something. Her eyes darted around, scanning the area but frowned when she didn’t see what she was looking for.

“Hades...Where’s Daeus…?” She asked, a concerned look over taking her features as she looked back to him.

Hades felt his entire body grow cold, the pit in his stomach threatening to tear him apart from the inside.

“Save your energy Hades… it’s far too late for me…” Hythlodaes’ voice was still as soft and calm as ever, though the shallow breath was a good indication that the Amaurotine was close to death. His friend put a weak hand on his shoulder in some vain attempt to give comfort. “It would be in bad taste… to die for another who is slated to pass on. There… there are others waiting for you.”

Others. Others. What others could there be—

Hades’ heart nearly stopped when he realized what he was about to say out loud. His lips trembled as he attempted to get a hold of his own mind and banish the overzealous thoughts and feelings bursting at the seams. He was supposed to be more composed than this, more in control of his emotions, but he was falling apart. His planet was dying, his friends were dying, his people were dying. Everyone was dying and there wasn’t a thing he could do about. Even such a powerful sorcerer as he was helpless in this situation and such despair could only hasten the panic overtaking his mind.

A slight grip on his shoulder planted Hades back into reality and he looked over to Daes. In his other hand was a piece of parchment. “This is… a letter from Fandaniel— to Kore… before she… died. She’s… probably there… at the garden. Go to her… quickly now. You won’t want to lose her too… You are…hope… both of you…” the last of his energy and his dear friend slumped over, his soul finally flickering away.

How was he to tell her about that? That even as powerful as he was, he failed to save him?

“Persephone—”

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” Her tone of voice, usually warm and energetic, was cold and rather distant; it caught him off guard. He looked at her, seeing her eyes go to the floor, her attempt to stop her mouth from quivering by biting down on it. “I should have known... he… he was supposed to be here by now… dammit.” Her clenched fists shook, her mind wandering the ‘what ifs’ the ‘should have beens’ if she hadn’t just stood there and waited for Daeus to come to her. She should have went to him. She should have been able to save him when he was hurt. She should have--

Before Persephone could finish her thoughts, Hades was already embracing her, the tip of his nose nuzzling into her hair, his soul emerging and caressing hers in a way that sought to give comfort. “Hades… I… I should have been there for him…”

“Hush now, we’ll have none of that,” he cooed “He was at peace when he passed, I made sure of it. When all of this is over, we will summon Zodiark again and He will be able to revive all of our loved ones back, I promise.” He squeezed her lightly, trying his best to give her some comfort, to let her know that all wasn’t for naught, that there was hope. Their people could live again, rebuild again, it would just take some time.

Yet, despite his confidence, Persephone was not comforted nor was she given any hope that such a being such as He would be able to bring back the dead. Her mother was convinced the god had no intention of doing so and Persephone was prone to believe it as well. Zodiark was powerful, that could not be disputed, but he was never meant to bring back the dead, all he wanted was more energy, more aether, more sacrifices. His hunger seemed insatiable and she feared that it WAS.

“Trust me, Persephone, things will return to normal.” He assured her, as if he read her thoughts. As if it were so easy to believe. As if everything that has happened in the last few days, weeks, months would disappear from their minds and never be mentioned again. No, there was no going back from this, there was no washing this pain and agony away even if things returned to normal. Nothing would be normal again, not with what they knew now; what she knew now.

“We should go,” she said, wiping her eyes and backing away from his arms. “Our world is being torn apart and if we don’t leave now we won’t find mother’s sanctuary—” Before she could finish, Persephone heard something crack before a foreign object made an impact within her chest cavity. At first she froze, eyes wide, slowly blinking before she looked down and saw a hook-like appendage sticking out of her chest. “Oh.”

Another crack boomed behind her and Persephone was pulled back at an alarming rate, her body being thrown against a wall once, twice, three times, leaving her quite bruised. Her hand gripped at the hook to try and get it out, but severe pain coupled with being thrashed around made it difficult. She started to feel dizzy, her ears ringing from being slammed over and over again as her headache started to pound merciless against her skull. She could feel blood pouring from her head over her eye now and her vision was rapidly declining.

“Scurry and Scatter!” As sudden did Hades call out did she feel her body fall to the floor, the limb holding her now detached from the body. The impact to the ground, while being a short distance from where she had fallen, sent sharp pains through her chest. Her ribs pressed against the hook, making it sink deeper into her flesh and letting more blood spill onto the ground. She was feeling light headed, but until the monster was killed, there was no way she was going to let herself die, not like this.

Hear… Feel… Think…

For a moment she heard her mother’s voice; calm, encouraging and wise as it always had been, echoing through her body, giving her strength she didn’t know she had and she actually managed to prop herself up on one knee. With one eye open, Persephone turned her head to where she had heard the battle pressing on.

Standing tall, confident and wholly arrogant, Hades was always one to show off the power he wielded, especially when he had an audience. But this wasn’t him, this was a Hades filled with rage; eyes constricted, mouth in a snarl and magic so wild it lashed out with reckless abandon; he was angry— no livid. A rare sight to see and Persephone would be a liar if she said it didn’t terrify her a small bit. But within that anger, while his head was clouded of thoughts of protecting her, protecting what was his, protecting what he had left, he did not realize just how much danger he was in.

Even now she could see his ragged breath, his blurry eyes, his staggering legs. How he was standing when he was exhausting himself was beyond her, but she had to put a stop to it, and the only way to do that was to kill the monster before it ended up killing him or he ended up killing himself.

Suddenly she had energy again. The aether within her body manifesting itself, humming and crackling to the rhythm of her determination as her muscles gained back their strength. She took a hand and gripped the remaining talon in her chest and ripping it out with such vigor that a chunk of flesh still clung to it. She could feel her chest burn and in her haste to remove it she coughed out more blood and fluid, but even with her own constricted breath her eyes laid on her prey.

Persephone was on it in a matter of moments, talon in hand and, using her herculean strength, shoved it straight into its head, cracking through the skull and embedding it into its cranium. The creature made one last howl before it eventually stopped moving entirely.

The air became still, the only sound being their ragged breaths. She gave a long, drawn out sigh of relief; it was over, it was finally over—

Or so she thought, but as the monster lay dying, twitching as the last of its life sucked away back into the aether, it did one last push, one last act of violence and stabbed her with every hook it had. Blood poured from every wound profusely, spilling upon the ground and flowing into the cracks of the floor like a river styx.Her breath became still, her lung caught in her throat, unable to make a sound other than a pathetic squeal as she fell. As she collapsed she could hear someone calling her name and her glazed eyes focused on he who called for her, who loved her, who would mourn for her.

Hades...

Hades had been frozen utterly, his words caught in his throat as his Persephone, as strong as she was, fell to the final attack by that monster. The world was eerily silent, his breathing the only thing he could hear other than the loud beating of his heart. He felt it again, pits of despair sending cold fires into his stomach, panic wrecking havoc and chaos in his mind, legs refusing to move as another one, as the one he loved the most fell to her knees.

When she finally landed on the ground he managed to get the energy to move again, rushing to her side, trying not to collapse himself as he gently picked up her body. He attempted to remove the hooks from her body, but as sudden as he got the energy to move it was gone again, leaving him heavy and unable to support himself as the pain from the battle came into effect. His lumbering limbs, his stinging, open wounds provided by some of the hooks that were still latched onto his flesh, his lack of ability to breathe properly. He felt like he was being strangled, that death was there, squeezing at his neck, sucking out the last of his life as his soul would be transported to the life after death.

With the last of his energy, Hades managed to pull the remaining hooks out from his body in an attempt to alleviate some of the pain, throwing them lazily on the floor. He began closing his eyes, clutching onto Persephone’s body, holding her close as he embraced the hold death had on them, the idea of both of them passing on together bringing him a sense of peace.

Yet, from within his arms she moved, her eyes fluttering open, though it was easy to tell she was straining herself to keep them so. Her arm was heavy, but she managed to lift it, touching his face, rousing him from the start of his deep slumber, rubbing his cheek with her thumb. When he opened his own to peer down at her, she gave that grin that filled his heart with light and love, though it was tremendously weaker.

“Perseph..one…”

He started to speak, but a finger to his lips stopped him. Slowly she lifted herself up, moving both hands to hold his face, leaning into his slouched form and kissing him softly. At first he stiffened up, but it only took a moment for his body to relax, closing his eyes as he felt her soul wrap around his body, giving him comfort and love in their final moments together. Warmth enveloped his body, his mind feeling at ease, rested as the weight of his limbs lifted and the pain of his wounds dissipated.

You are strong, stronger than I could ever hope to be. It can only be you.You must not die, not yet.

His eyes shot open as he heard her words through his mind and before him he saw the life from her body slowly draining, pouring it into his own.

Persephone— Kore stop! He commanded, trying to push her away, but her grip was fierce, refusing to budge as she continued.

This is a gift to you, my beloved Hades; a gift of life.

He was screaming. He was screaming and thrashing and begging and pleading as waves of despair washed over him, the pit of his stomach churning and churning, threatening to rip itself apart. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want this gift. Take it back. Take it back. Take it back take it back take it back TAKE IT BACK TAKE IT BACK TAKE IT BACK—

But she never did; she continued on, her tears mixing with his as the warmth of her lips faded and her body grew cold.

Remember us. Remember that we once lived.

#ffxiv #ffxiv shadowbringers #shadowbringers spoilers #5.0 spoilers #emet-selch #|| drabble

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peacefulwriter88 · 5 years

Text

Part Three: Such Fine Music Waits in the Shadows of Hell

Steve Rogers X Reader WoC, Bucky X Reader WoC

Warnings: M for Mature (language, SMUT)

A/N: This is a three part series inspired by the Hades and Persephone mood board I created that inspired me to write about Steve as a living Hades and a ballet reader as Persephone. You can read Part One here and Part Two here.

“Aren’t you afraid of my darkness my dear?” Hades asked with mischief dancing in his eyes. “No,” Persephone replied, “You haven’t even seen mine yet.”

-Unknown

___

I’m losing her.

There’s nothing else to say but that the woman that was my daughter no longer belongs to me.

Her cheeks blush secretly with the secret she doesn’t tell and her laughter carries a new tune that is foreign to my ears and and her eyes lie to me before her voice does.

Someone else has laid claim.

I can see it in the way she moves, her strut now of confidence her soft words full of surety. There’s a ghost that’s been whispering secrets in her ear and sputter out against me and she withdraws from me in shame.

And she leans into it willingly

“Who is he?” Reyna looks over at you, her daughter during the third rehearsal of Manon. You look up from the deep stretch you were engaged in, sweat dripping from your face as you quirk up an eyebrow and ask,

“What?”

“The man? The one who’s widened those naturally stiff hips of yours, who leaves bite marks across your neck.”

She’s disgusted that you think she wouldn’t find out, that you were still twelve and thought you could outwit her. At first you had been careful and despite her suspicions you had been consistent with your lies.

But now you were getting sloppy, his love bites were prevalent everywhere - your thighs, your neck, your cleavage and with the long rehearsal hours you had gotten lazy covering his work.

You smile, resume your position and snicker,

“Oh mother really with the dramatics. Do you think you could’ve kept me a pure innocent forever? It doesn’t matter who it is - you’d never guess anyways. What matters is that I’m still focused; I’m still showing up and providing my best and it doesn’t matter who takes me to bed when I’m done.”

Reyna gasps, she knows the whole room has stuttered in the motions from your crisp, clear words. You had never talked back to her. You were her good girl - her angel - and you would have never found the words to rise against her.

Yet here you were. You stand up, arms stretched wide as you move from her, pass your classmates.

“I’m going to finish stretching outside. Where I’m not going to be judged.”

Reyna doesn’t have the words as she watches you saunter off.

____

Everyone’s caught wind of the tiff. Naive and sweet angelic Benedetti mouthing off to her bitchy mother Reyna, the former queen?

It spreads like wildfire.

Reyna wouldn’t be embarrassed no, would gladly ingest the whispers if there weren’t new words also tangled in gossip.

“Y/N got off her high horse and isn’t as pure as we thought anymore.”

“Apparently this guy fucks the shit out of her. Have you seen the marks he leaves all over her? God, let me find a guy like that….I loved being marked up.”

“At least she’s didn’t turn into her mother and is still quiet little Benni.”

“She got tired of being the ballets little princess and has given into sin.”

No one knows who the mystery man is.

Reyna suspects her roommates do, they all smile and giggle with you in warm up, shut down any injury inquiries that float their way and Reyna worries it’s with the director. Wouldn’t be the first time a Benedetti slept with one to get ahead, she knows, but she doesn’t want your story to end like hers.

So she presses.

Visits you unexpectedly, walks you to and from your apartment. She’s smothering you, she knows and it’s finally a cold evening that you turn on her and yell,

“Enough! I’m thirty - I’m my own woman and I can love who I please.”

“It's not about who you choose to love. You can choose whoever gives you joy. It's the fact that you won’t share who it is with me and you tell me everything.”

You sigh as you stop in your tracks and look at her. Your beauty was at its prime, the confidence that only sex and love can give you paired with the years of work you’ve invested in your body. Honestly, Reyna knew that it would only be time before someone captured your eye, stole your heart and with it your dreams.

Except she didn’t expect this, this natural rebellion, this change in attitude.

“For as simple as my life is he’s isn’t. And you had made it clear from the minute I hit puberty that love couldn’t be an option in my life. So why would I tell you?”

There is bitterness and pain in your words and Reyna reaches for you. You shrug out of her embrace, wipe at your eyes.

“Its fine,” it obviously isn’t as you move past her, walking faster, “Just respect the boundaries I’ve created in my personal life. You’ve controlled everything else about me this far, respect this.”

You storm away, annoyed and Reyna watches your shadow disappear into the night.

____

She is kindness.

She is hope.

She is rivaled light and good, her energy radiates out of her pores. She dances a tango of life and death and doesn’t trip up in its complicated discourse, she takes his savagery and turns it into love.

Flowers weep at her departure and blossom upon her return and she has turned hell into a sanctuary of comfort, her arms a shield from thorns and bone.

She is his and he is hers and together they laugh alone.

Steve watches you as you stretch out to your toes from the comfort of the floor, the muscles in your body contracting as you reach out with ease. There is something beautiful about the way your body was layered in equal parts muscle and fat, strength and softness that captured your soul.

You were upset, you’d never voice it but the minute you stepped into his apartment, cordially greeting Sam before you walked into his bedroom he knew there was something distracting your thoughts. You had barely touched your dinner. Odd as you were ravenous lately after rehearsals and despite the topic he tried to start you wouldn’t keep the normal steady beat of a conversation.

“So I was talking to Sam,” his voice startles even him as you look over to him from your stretch, your head easily resting on your thighs and he takes a moment to admire the flexibility and strength in your body, “He’s thinking of moving out.”

Your hands stop reaching, irises looking deeply into his before you lean up, stretch out to the ceilings. Your body cracks and he winces, still uncomfortable with the natural sounds your body creates from being a dancer as you cross your legs and look at him.

“Are you going to move out to?”

He shakes his head,

“No. I like it here. I like this neighborhood - I like this privacy. I like that my neighbors treat me like any other guy who would live in a building and call me Steve. I like being able to do normal things with you here.”

You smile at him, it's the first he’s seen you crack all evening and he exhales heavily as he looks down at his hands. Their stained from ink, the nails dirtied with blood and grim from the mission he and Sam just got back from. He thought this would be easier, would come up naturally after dinner when you both were putting the dishes away or cuddled on the couch watching a new TV show you and Sam had selected.

He’s not sure of your mood, unsure if he’s the cause of your silence and it makes him insecure - hesitant for the first time in what feels like months. Knows that if Sam could witness his mild panic attack he’d tell him to hold off, to wait until you both were in better places.

He’s impatient - knows the anxiety of not asking would cripple him more than your answer so he pushes through the fog.

“Well that's good.”

Your voice is soft and velvety in that way that soothes him and he looks up at you, his eyes scrunching together.

“I suppose…..well, my point is. I was wondering if you would like to, and this is no pressure I know we’ve barely been dating, if you would like to move in with me?”

The smile on your face doesn’t break as you look over at him, whimsical before you stand up and walk toward him. He’s been sitting at the edge of the bed and you easily slid between his legs, sitting on his right thigh as you wrap your arms around his neck. You press your forehead to his own as he draws you closer to him, your breath mingling with his as you lift your hand to his cheek.

“This is a big step Steve. Not just for you or for me individually. This is a big step for us. For our relationship.”

His eyes peer into your own as he tightens his hold around you,

“I know that. I also know that there was only one other woman who has made me feel the way you make me feel when I even think about you. And I was foolish and choose the happiness of others over my own. I don’t want to repeat that again. I choose myself and I choose you.

I love you.”

It's the first time he’s voiced the words out loud. Before they felt too delicate, too fragile to expel out into the world. He’s selfish, he wants you all the time, you’ve given him the gift of what it feels like to be human again. He pictures a future with you, wants you to be the only one he makes sacrifices to and for, wants to protect you from the cruelties of the world.

Your eyes fill with wetness, thick tears that swell at the base of your eyes and spill out over your cheeks. Even when you cried you were beautiful and he leans in to press his lips to your cheeks, his mouth catching a tear before it can finish its descent down your face.

“I love you too.”

“I know.” he grins.

You smile, press your lips against his own in a kiss before you whisper,

“Yes. My answer is yes.”

____

You move in the second week into your show, a month after he has asked. You insist to him that you can wait, that there was no rush and your roommates understood but he pushes back and says he can do it easily. That he can recruit others to help out.

You only agree after insisting you must pack all of your things first.

It's an easy request.

Meanwhile the world has gone quiet - its as if having the world's population snapped in half, then snapped back into place - has provided a peacefulness in humans. Sure there were incidents that would arise but they weren’t like before. The world may not have a need for the Avengers anymore. It causes Steve to become restless, idle.

He goes to all of your shows because he has the extra time, sometimes watching in the shadows to draw your form and other times he’s in the front row, loving the passionate look of love that he only sees when you dance. His name is becoming an afterthought on people's mind, a ghost of who he was despite the missions he takes and its one Sunday morning, the both of you making breakfast together at the stove that you clear your throat, whisper,

“So I was talking to a friend and….they have an opening down at the New York School of Art. I told them about some of your work and they said that you would have an excellent chance of getting in. You know, if you wanted. And less people aren’t recognizing you on the street so you could be in peace.”

Despite the fact that your arm is wrapped around his waist, the other sauteeing onions he feels you withdrawing and he pulls you to him, kisses your head.

“Are you suggesting I go to art school?”

You bite your lip anxiously and shrug.

“I don’t know even half of what it means to be responsible for saving the world, to have the power of strength and agility running through your veins. I don’t know what it must feel like to have so much of what has come to define a part of your identity to suddenly be stolen because humans have learned the art of resting.

I do understand restlessness, of feeling caged and not being able to break through to what gives you joy and I know you don’t sleep through the night like you used to, that you spend all of your time drawing and that you're living in silence. I think you should try something that will give you joy. Just for a bit.

The world will always be around for saving.”

“I’m not sure that’s true.” He cuts you off and you exhale, placing your chin on his arm.

“That's okay. You aren’t looking at it like I am, outward in.”

“You’re telling me to sacrifice others for my own happiness?” he doesn’t mean to be defensive and you hesitate before you answer,

“I’m saying that you can choose you sometimes and not be the bad guy. That you can make your own happiness and not rely on it from others.”

He’s silent after that and you don’t approach it even further. Made it clear where you stood on the matter.

He doesn’t apply immediately. Instead, he tries to take on as many missions that come up. He was hurt by your words, he doesn’t deny that. It makes him withdraw from you and it's on a cold night that you whisper into the darkness, ‘I just don’t think fighting brings you happiness. That’s all I meant Steve. I just want you to be happy.’ Your words are hurt and broken - he knows that you’re probably crying and it causes him to draws you to him, kiss you in apology. Perhaps it didn’t. He starts to focus on the emotional connection he has when he’s fighting for freedom, the way it makes him feel after and he comes to the sound conclusion you’ve known all along.

It doesn’t feel good anymore. Not even self serving. Just another routine. Another exhausting, draining routine.

He tells you he applies one late autumn night, fresh off of a mission and not even undressed from his uniform and showered. Crawls into the large shared bed you’ve both invested in, arms drawing you back into his chest as you wrap yourself around him.

“I can’t rely on you completely for my happiness.” he whispers into your hair, holding you tightly. Tears fall from his face because he realizes that the selfishness he holds in his heart for you is because he doesn’t know how to be happy without you, that he willingly broke the heart of his best friend to try to guarantee some form of joy for himself. He doesn’t want to dilute his happiness with you, wants to know how to bring warmth to his own heart - to not live in darkness so he can give you the same joy you give him.

“I know. You’ll figure it out,” you turn to him, press your lips sleepily upon his closed eyes. “You’re not alone and I love you. Just, for once, do something for you.”

___

Break me of your bonds.

I can no longer dance in the ballet of your love. No longer want to be a slave to your beauty, my soul a prisoner to your heart.

Let me be free of you, to seek forgiveness in the act, to bathe in serendipity. May my dark heart find light in someone else, to dance a tango with a devil, to find comfort in her hell.

Let me be free,

Please.

Just let me be.

The first time is an accident. Its after he leaves Sam and Steve’s for dinner with you, an awkward two hours in which he is accosted by your presence. He tries to numb his brain of you - tries to erase the kind way you rest your hand on his metal arm or try to understand the way his calculative brain thinks through things when he’s forced with a gun in his hands or the sound of your laughter when he tells a joke.

It's not love that bonds you to him, he knows, all of your love is reserved for Steve. There is an understanding, an empathetic knowledge of what it means to be the puppet for someone else for years and to be given freedom and to fall into yourself because freedom is as foreign as living.

He cries silently on the walk back because he’s gotten to that place in his thoughts where in a world where Steve stopped existing there was no you and him. Of course that meant that in a world where there is no Steve, though, there probably wouldn’t be a him. Not the version of himself that he was today at most, he’d still be fighting his memories as the Winter Soldier.

The world operated in a cruel, manipulative balance.

So when he happens upon her, crying alone on the balcony where she thinks no one knows she sneaks off too late in the night, he just wants someone to hold. For someone who understands what it means to be robbed of happiness and to feel that there is only emptiness in the future.

He doesn’t mean to kiss her.

But he’s so touch starved, and her lipstick is as bold as her wavy red hair, she burns in the darkness that he has to have a taste. He expects her to punch him in the gut, to try to rip off his prosthetic arm, to ward him off of her but instead she leans into him just as eagerly, arms wrapping around his body.

That's how it begins.

Natasha isn’t the kind of woman who wants to be romanced, still acts cold with him on missions or when the group is forced on social outings. Except, she eagerly waits for him in the safety of his room, hands gripping for the soft fabric of his shirt, legs wrapping themselves around his waist, mouth sloppily on his own. She’s majestic in the safety of the night, laughs and whispers with him, makes promises that breathe hope into his heart as she rides him passionately. Doesn’t cower away in fear with him.

In return he tries his best to keep her happy, cleans her guns for her before missions and picks up the little russian cookies she likes to treat herself to on occasion. She laughs more, now with him instead of at him, appreciates his input when its given, challenges Steve on why he’s been so distant with his longtime friend. She quietly paints herself onto him, brushes her hands against his own in public, teases his foot under the table during briefings.

For a while he thinks he’s forgotten all about you, that you’ve become a cloudy memory in the list of cloudy memories and that he was no longer your slave - that he was free of you.

For a minute he believes he’s free.

“We should do something for each other.”

It's her voice in the darkness, arms wrapped around his own after a session of lovemaking. Her face rests on his chest and he chuckles, kisses her forehead.

“We do do things for each other. Like have sex.”

She laughs, it's not seductive and dark but light and playful as she squeezes herself to him.

“Not like that. Like go out and do something that doesn’t involve a bed and physical activity,” he laughs again as she lifts her head, her eyes twinkling in the dark. “I want to treat you to a night out. You’ve been really….great these past few months. Let's go on a date. Jump one step ahead of making it official.”

He nods, presses his lips against her own. He could do that. For her, he could try.

He doesn’t suspect it to be the last place his heart can survive.

Until he’s looking up at the building, waterfalls dancing in its twinkling lights, Natasha’s arms wrapped in his own. Convinced him into a tuxedo, herself a tight black dress as she steers him to where Steve stands, waiting for them. He’s also in a tuxedo, hands stuffed in his pockets, his face forming the beard Bucky was acquainted with when he first saw his friend in Wakanda.

“Thanks for getting us tickets Steve. There sold out - your girlfriend is making a name for herself and its damn near impossible to snag one.”

Steve is relaxed, Bucky hasn’t seen his friend in what feels like years and the blue eyes that watch him now are different from months back. They’re full of light, full of the Steve that he remembered, that he missed.

“She was happy to hold them for you. She was happy to hear that Bucky was dating someone and feeling a bit hurt he hadn’t come to see her dance.”

“You’ve met her before?” Natasha asks surprised, looking over at Bucky and Steve shrugs it off,

“She made dinner for him and Sam a few months back. She’s excited to meet you Natasha.”

Bucky’s never watched you dance, made a point to never cross that line for his heart. Knows that it's a dangerous path that it would take him down, that his heart would always belong to you and no other.

He’s right in his hypothesis.

You’re a siren, melodic and entrancing the moment you step onto the stage. There’s a powerful gentleness to the way you carry your body, a silent grace in the way you narrate the love story. There’s joy, joy that can only come from doing something you love and why Steve latched on to you, why he stole you from Bucky’s heart strings and kept you for his own.

You breathed love into life.

By the time the curtain falls there’s hot tears that pour from his eyes and it’s Natasha who wipes them away, lovingly teases the sensitive part he’s shown in public. There’s a haziness in her eyes, they glitter with her own tears but when one escape she turns away, looks at Steve and brushes it away like it was nothing.

“She’s invited you both to dinner if you want.” Steve says lowly, above the chatter of the theater patrons and Bucky wants to say no but Natasha is faster as she breathes out ‘yes, of course’.

The restaurant isn’t far from the theater, the same one Bucky had followed you and Steve too months earlier, the upscale dining decor brighter peering out than when he was looking in. You join them forty five minutes later, pea coat billowed open as you rush to their table - to Steve. He stands immediately when he senses your presence, smiling as you shuffle toward him in your heels.

“I’m so sorry! The interview went far longer than I expected and then my mother needed a word. I think she may be onto to you.”

You lean up and kiss him, pausing when you pull away to whisper the soft words Bucky’s heart can’t bear.

I love you.

Steve repeats the words, endearingly before he’s helping you out of your jacket, exposing the off shoulder burgundy dress you’ve opted into and you barely slide into your seat before your eyes drink in Bucky - Natasha.

“Oh my, my manners! Bucky, I’m so happy to see you again! And I’m happy you finally came to my show.”

You lean into him, hugging him and he feels attacked as his senses are overwhelmed by jasmine, your warmth. You pull away and drink him in, before your eyes are flickering over to Natasha,

“You must be Natasha. Steve has spoken so much of you, it’s an honor to finally meet.”

Natasha spends a half minute drinking you in, breaking you down before she extends out her hands, smiles seductively back to you. Bucky can sense you withdrawing into yourself, eyes flickering over to Steve who easily places his hand around your waist, gives your hips a squeeze. How odd, he finds, that a woman like Natasha intimidated you when you carried the weight of everything Natasha had ever yearned. Natasha isn’t malicious though, she’s sincere as she compliments your dancing, your technique and strength. You’re humble, nearly falling into your seat as Steve wraps his arms around you, caresses your arm when you get flustered. Bucky liked that fame wasn’t changing you, that you were still shy and quiet and unaware of the beauty and gifts that you carried with you.

You are mindful when you turn the tables and ask more about Natasha, her past, a conversation that in the past the redhead would have shut down immediately but with you it flows languidly, like the wine the waiter keeps pouring into their glasses. You’re a mindful listener as you learn about the red room, about Natasha’s history with ballet - how she still had an affinity and passion for it and halfway through her words you rest your hand over her own, squeeze it gently. You don’t say anymore, both Steve and Bucky are worried that perhaps even for you you’ve crossed a line but Natasha leans into it with gratefulness, squeezes your own hand back until dinner arrives.

You were enticing, even for someone like Natasha.

The conversation eventually turns to how Steve was faring in art school, Bucky didn’t even know his friend had applied and Steve makes a point to flip the attention back to you and how proud he was to see you get featured in the Times and be asked full time to be a prima for the company. He talks about how he no longer felt the heaviness from being Captain America full time, that he liked his classes and the challenges they provided, allowed to see the world like he used to. There’s a new air of happiness about him, emits from him and its startling for Bucky because he’s never known his blonde friend to be happy or content. Always bitter and finding something to be bitter about - that was the Steve Rogers.

When Bucky broaches if Steve would consider quitting the Avengers, its you that quickly steps in, shaking your head though you tenderly place a hand over Steve’s.

“I’m happy that Steve has finally made space for him to be happy - that he has carved out what gives him joy. But I don’t think it would also be realistic to think he could completely quit something that has defined so much of him and his personality. While I won’t lie and say I’d like that alternative, it wouldn’t be fair to him, or me or the world.”

You withdraw from the stares from the three of them and lean into your wine glass, shaking your head,

“It's not my decision to make it...sorry Steve. I shouldn’t speak on your behalf.”

Bucky knows Steve doesn’t mind it - that he agrees with you from the way he smiles at you, lifts your hand and kisses it while mumbling it’s ok. Steve no longer served himself in melancholy, he served and respected you and Bucky wonders if you were aware the magnitude to have someone like Steve loyal and ready for your beck and call. Perhaps not knowing made it better.

When Natasha and Bucky leave the couple two hours later it’s Natasha who states,

“I’m giving my blessing for Steve to marry her.”

Bucky flashes her eyes to him as she looks up at him thoughtfully. He didn’t even know Steve was debating it and when he’s fucking Natasha later on that night it’s your face he imagines in the dark.

One more desire to soothe his aching heart.

___

Apparently Steve isn’t though - not fully. It was just something that Natasha was starting to put into Steve’s ear because she liked you that much. Liked the perspective you gave Steve, liked that you weren’t like the people in their life, had a quiet power to you.

She starts inviting you to things - to the Tower with Steve for dinner, out bowling with the team, birthdays. The both of you are withdrawn at first, you and Steve. You’re cordial enough but you don’t make a move to connect with any of the other Avengers, your eyes withdrawing into itself whenever anyone speaks too enthusiastically about the worlds they have seen. You always fall back to Steve, but when he’s distracted in another conversation you find Bucky, admitting after the third engagement your flusteredness.

“Your world is so different than my own,” you say bashfully at a birthday event, a cup of sparkling water in your hand. “Steve keeps these things from me, knows I don’t need to know it all to love him. Meeting a man from space, a real life martian….its a bit tantalizing and I’m not sure if its in a good or a bad way.”

You’re speaking about Thor and it makes Bucky laugh, makes him ease into his own seat.

“I know what you mean.”

He takes these opportunities as not curses but as gifts to learn more about you. He learns that you’ve been asked to dance prima for the next few ballets, that you would do a small tour with your company in the coming winter months and that you and Steve were remodeling your apartment. He provides silent guidance to the gifts you should buy Steve for the holidays and is surprised on Christmas morning of the album you’ve crafted as his present - pictures from a time that his mind has long forgotten, of his sisters and his mom and dad. Steve and him.

“I was making one for Steve and...I don’t know. It's hard to imagine a world where you existed when my grandparents did but you do and I couldn’t imagine feeling that piece of identity lost.”

He cherishes it more than the sniper rifle that Natasha gifts him.

He learns that you’ve told your mother about Steve, about the family dinner Steve suggested you both host for her. That Steve hates her as much as Reyna probably hated him but that they both tried for her.

“I think my mother fears that Steve is going to leave me and Steve fears that Reyna will never let me live my life.” You sigh one cold New Years Eve party, nervously picking at your finger, a nervous tick. You’ve both stepped outside and the short, gold glittery dress that hugs your body glimmers in the moonlight. “They both have very strong opinions of the other though Steve is better at keeping his feelings to himself.”

You drunkenly admit to him on St. Patrick's Day how much you love Steve’s beard, that you’re happy he’s re-grown it out. Steve’s temporarily left to check on Sam at the pub they had decided to celebrate the holiday and trusted your care with Bucky. It's been six months since the ballet and the trust that was severed between both super soldiers was silently mending itself, enough that Steve didn’t feel the need to protect you from his best friend.

“It's just so soft and it makes him so distinguished. So handsome. So sexy….” you slur the words and though you nearly topple in his arms, he can’t help but smile down as you giggle, grappling his arms. “I like the way it makes my thighs burn after,” you hiccup, “You know.” you wiggle your brows and laugh some more.

He changes the subject after that comment.

He spirals into you, allows himself into the small sliver of your world. Likes that Natasha has coordinated each event to also include you, confides in you.

Selfishly he uses her to get to you.

Until one night, after a bout of love making she withdraws away. Doesn’t curl into his side like he’s accustomed, instead pulls from him, swings her legs out of the bed and sits looking out into the moon out the window.

“Be honest with me Bucky,” she whispers minutes later, her voice low. “Don’t lie, okay.”

“Okay?” he doesn’t know what it is she needs as she wraps her arms around herself. He reaches out for her, his cold fingers grazing her back and her spine ripples in goosebumps as she asks,

“Do you love me?”

Bucky pauses, sits up in bed and clears his throat.

“What?”

“Do you love me?” Natasha asks again, same low voice. She’s met with silence, met with Bucky trying to untangle his thoughts.

Did he love her? He wasn’t sure.

She nods.

“Do you love Y/N.”

His heart lunges, his breath breaks but he doesn’t dare say the word that will betray him. He doesn’t have too, Natasha turns to him tears in her eyes knowingly.

“You moan out her name in your sleep sometimes. I see the way you look at her, the way you look at Steve. I understand why you both stopped talking to each other a long time ago now. It was her. You loved her and she choose Steve.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything, turns and looks away ashamed.

Betrays the truth.

“I’m not going to be a poor woman’s Persephone anymore. Go mourn the loss of your almost lover alone.”

She leaves him swiftly, doesn’t look back and he feel a part of him robbed, that coldness that encases his heart. He wants to call out to her, to apologize, to explain she gives him joy but he knows its all lies.

He loved you and he felt like always will.

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#Steve Rogers #Steve Roger AU #Steve Rogers x Reader #Steve Roger smut #Steve Rogers x woc #Steve Roger x curvy reader #Chris Evans #Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes x Reader #Sebastian Stan #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov x bucky barnes

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akatokuro · 5 years

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The Inevitable StS Rewatch, Episodes 20-22

AH YES, AFTER TWENTY EPISODES, MY TRUE ANIME STS NEMESIS HAS ARRIVED....... THE ANTI-CAMUS.............

- When I first watched Saint Seiya a million (or six) years ago, I didn't really have a strong opinion on the Crystal Saint. Like, yumetabibito made sure to inform me what was actually up with the "Hyouga's master" situation, and it was obvious at a glance that Camus was the superior option for drama and Hyouga's development, but... he seemed okay for what he was?

- But on rewatch, phew, the Crystal Saint comparatively is... really, really bad!

- And it's not like Camus got much more screentime or anything versus the Crystal Saint. Camus is literally featured in like two episodes total out of 114. I don't even really count Camus as being present in the majority of the Hades arc, because he's there as part of a blob with a Saga-shaped head so Saga can dramatically Athena Exclamation at people. But even so, Camus is so much a better character in like every way possible holy cow.

- Before delving into that, though, I do want to note that a) Marin is super cool! and b) these early Aiolia cameos continue to be charming and also hilarious. I really seriously doubt Toei knew Aiolia was a Gold Saint at the time of writing these appearances, and only had his cameo in the first chapter of the manga to go off of. This leads to some really weird but ultimately interesting depictions, like the Silvers repeatedly disrespecting poor Aiolia hard. It was an accident, but it really works for his character and his endless, endless rage.

- Also, Shun and Saori's friendship is cute as fuck. See, this is why even though the filler is ridiculous, I do like some of the feelings of the dynamics we get out of it before the Bronzies get trapped by eternal stairs.

- I LOVE that Seiya repeatedly loses against Shaina early on and keeps having to be rescued from her by others. I really do like Shaina, but I think her having a crush on Seiya is super unnecessary and a total shame - I love her as ruthless and effective, but not necessarily evil.

- Marin throwing shade at Shaina and trolling her is fantastic. Shaina, fall in love with Marin, not Seiya, goddammit! She is objectively the superior option even putting aside Seiya's brain eventually going full broke for Saori!

- My Camusfamily-loving heart did eeeee to get a quick peek at the village I'm sure they had to go to to buy supplies and such. Please give me a filler episode of nothing but Camus terrifying the grocers as he simply tries to purchase carrots for his kids. Look, he doesn't mean to be scary, guys, he's really just figuring out which carrots to buy, it's just his face...

- I always wonder what's up with Camus (and his kids) wearing, like, the sleeveless shirts but also legwarmers? okay guys.jpg

- Okay okay okay. Crystal Saint time.

- It's really funny to think that the Crystal Saint actually probably preceded Camus as a character concept, since we know Kurumada literally pulled Camus straight from his ass ten seconds before introducing him. What makes it kind of a fun thought exercise to compare both of Hyouga's mentors is that they're really the same character concept and "type." In some ways CS almost feels like a rough draft for Camus, honestly: Hyouga's kind-hearted master who loves him, and really wants the best for him, but whom Hyouga is tragically forced to fight and kill.

- Crystal Saint, however, plays this absolutely straight with zero nuance or deviation from the script. He is a Good Guy (slaughtering the poor Sanctuary guards and snapping that one dude's neck aside) who objects to Sanctuary's brutality and evil. He smiles and laughs and pats Hyouga on the head and openly encourages him. The only reason he and Hyouga are forced to fight is because he is literally brainwashed.

- Aquarius Camus, on the other hand, needs no fucking outside influence or brainwashing to make a giant fucking trainwreck out of the situation involving the student he loves. HE DOES IT ALL ON HIS OWN, BABY.

- That instantly makes him a better character, because Camus - again, with pretty much the same amount of screentime - manages an interiority and an agency because he's conflicted about what he's doing and does not know the right or best thing to do, and his priorities are a complete tangled mess. He doesn't have it in him to just turn against Sanctuary on a whim. But he doesn't want Hyouga to die. But he doesn't go out of his way to find out what Hyouga is trying to do and if it's right or not, because oh my god Hyouga is going to fucking die aaaa aaaa aaaaaaaaaaa oh god aaaaaaaaaaa

- Part of what makes me like Camus so much is that he feels really interesting and unique for a "good shounen anime mentor" in what an utter fucking mess he is. Most characters in his type, like the Crystal Saint, essentially have their shit together to be very stable and solid figures for the protagonist to fall back on. They might put up a certain harsh facade in order to push their students forward, but ultimately they are in control of themselves and are deliberately orchestrating how they present and such for their students' benefit. I'm thinking of, like, figures like Hiko from Kenshin, or Izumi from FMA, those sorts. But not Camus. He is held in extremely high regard as a beloved mentor by the text - "not a day goes by that I haven't thought of you!" cries Hyouga (lol), and there's no questioning his love for his student, but he is a legitimate panicky fuckup who makes an assload of genuine, unnecessary mistakes in how he handles things.

- I should probably save some of my Camusramblings for when Camus, like, actually shows up though huh. OR I COULD JUST REPEAT MYSELF WHEN THE TIME COMES. YEAH. I'LL PROBABLY DO THAT.

- I also want to note that it's fucking hilarious that, like, Yakov tells Hyouga "oh no the Crystal Saint is evil now" and Hyouga is like "sounds legit" and fights him; meanwhile against the, er, "master of his master", Camus, Hyouga cries and breaks down and can't bring himself to punch him. I... hmm. HMMMMM

- But that's what makes Hyouga and Camus's relationship great and fun. The love between them is what gets emphasized, more than anything else - because their duty as Saints gets very entangled in the doubt that that love brings them.

- ANYWAY. MOVING ON. tl;dr, Camus is so obviously a superior option for "Hyouga's tragic mentor" in every way - as an individual character, and in his relationship with Hyouga, and how events play out - it's obvious why the franchise as a whole sort of innocently whistled and nonchalantly kicked Crystal Saint down a cliff.

- Shunrei and Shiryuu are cute as fuck! I don't give a fuck! They're sort of fun and unique in this setting as Shunrei is a "normal person" who is forced to just sort of deal with what it means for her beloved person to be a Saint.

- W-why do soldiers from Sanctuary have guns...?

- WHY BUILD A COMPLETELY RANDOM ICE PYRAMID?

- I like how they even ask the filler villain "why the fuck are you building a random ice pyramid" and it's like "IT'S A MONUMENT OKAY. FOR REASONS."

- I do like Hyouga being well-known and beloved by the villagers, though! I could totally see that! Playing interference for his extremely socially awkward master when they need to buy carrots...

- Camusfamily is forever my favorite, but Dohkofamily can be pretty fucking cute too...

- Boy, how many times is Saori's house gonna get blown up...

- Saori's reactions continue to feel really fluid and fun if you pay attention to her. I really like her panicking at first at her house getting blown up (AGAIN), but then forcing herself to hold it together and do the rationally correct thing, with obvious difficulty.

- Tatsumi you useless FUCK

- oh my god tatsumi giving in instantly and giving them information. why didn't you guys let ikki kill him. jesus fuck

- It's a small thing, but I appreciate Saori remaining focused on her worry for Shun in this situation instead of, like, falling back on crying for Seiya or something. It's a bunch of little things like that that make me able to like them as a shounen hero/heroine pairing. Saori has a lot of different things on her plate, not just Seiya.

- Chains aren't the best weapon to fight against a fire-based Saint, huh, Shun? Try hard! If only your boyfriend was here!

- PHOENIX IKKI TRIUMPHANTLY REAPPEARS IN THE ANIME EARLY TO DO ABSOLUTELY NOTHING UNTIL HIS MANGA REAPPEARANCE EXCEPT BE REALLY CREEPILY OOC. THANKS, IKKI!

- i know it's a meme but i still can't deal with that bit ikki waving shun's tears in his face what the fuck

#rewatching sts #aquarius camus did nothing wrong

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thepoetofabyss · 5 years

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The birth of a purgatory. Chapter 1: The journey of a crippled soul. Was it a mere spark of light? A vivid dream of a sacred beam into the darkness as it spread? The sun was burning fiercely over the cracked ceiling as I noticed the curtains wet! Absurd was reality or not, I got the feeling of being controlled by somewhat of a strong spirit. As a well sought bait. Camouflage or sorcery, Which ever suits your fancy. The ambiance was astonishing, And displayed the aura of a message; A threat. "Was it truly a necessity for me to go astray, demented with enigma of might to see where it ends?" As I whispered softly to myself again and again- "Maybe this is the end". "In my beloved rusty old den" With sheer grin on my face, Like never before, as it never had been. Was it fate that opened infinite courtyards; ghastly, in surprise? A figure appeared from absolute nothingness. A ghoul like shape appeared with a large scroll in hand, trivially visible. But curiously immense was the size. Was all of it happening for real? Right in front of my bare eyes? As the stubborn reflex within my guts tactfully held a tight grasp of the scenario that had me haunted. It kept bothering me, whether I lose to my insecurities. My fears, the saddening disabilities. Writhing, fiercely as I felt the chivalry within me left in shreds. Yes, by the time I was gravely afraid. Whether it is time for me to carve my own gravestone, and hire a fellow undertaker to put me into eternal rest. Is the sands of time slipping? Am I dead? Trembling in awe, I flipped another thought. Was it my weakened intuition?Intentionally diving into the depths, inside the iron-weilded core of the hollow in my crippled bed? Or was it just another day, vulnerable, under my shed? For the moment you might offer or ask, whether it is about time for me to reveal that illusive matter, the trance. Apparently we had never learned it in ease to bear a scar from a scratch, translating life from a hollow dent. As I realized that it was only for the one to decide why darkness led me to light that never bend. This was the dawn of a new era. The age where none will ever dare practice inception in their self initiated horrors or slightest to apprehend. Behold. Chas to be witnessed. The life of a spiritual kraken, addressed. Surely, I haven't seen an end, yet. An end of a bargain, Rogue was the state, in an ambiguity of the possibilities it had me sent. I fell. And I fell deeper. In a superficial speed of light and further of any example which I could ever display in a logical, rational mind.. And I crashed; into the burning red sands of a land which I always sensed above in the earthly lands. In the beginning of my journey nothing significantly made sense to me, but a class of few- Uncountable thousands of those offspring born as men, who sinned blindly in spellbound manifestations. Screeching louder than their ken. Alongside, wretched diva's who lured innocents in their blackened caves of lust and bondage. Molested, abused and raped their own children, constantly off their courses, and heartlessly slain them. The terror was dense. Aborted children howl in agony, in a baffled unity of destruction unleashed everywhere. An enormous sore tone billions; the cacophony was immense.. No end of a timeless torture; the crooked hands lent. As they are were in a literal sense no more, neither am I in their sorted folklores, be it a messy gore as flesh bitten off and tore. I had no possible description of what might sound ever sound pleasant. In the early steps of my journey, I stepped into the dreams of those beloved, for whom silent prayed. Casting myself to all those, Who deserved, the cowards, the great. The key was this; none of my emotions had importance to those for whom I did, as the least was understood as a universe I had been thrown to I meant. In pleasure, in pain, in every drop running through my narrowed veins, I took a leap of faith as I hopped into whatever it had me led. This wasn't the first time I felt my soul numb and dead. I got crushed, scorched and battered, hanging me in flesh the occult gathered. Raped by variant monstrous creatures in their barracks, the torture, inside the boundaries of an endless barricade. Reincarnated in every fatality as I constantly bled. Tearing off my guts, playing with my genitals and throwing pieces of my limbs to the hellhounds they fed. So, it was true I realized ,that after reckless years spent in a lifetime, the vast pile of memories within we're caved, left in stock pile over by those I had met. And those I threw as pebbles by the shores, the special ones, as desperately I regret. Those I loved, and the ones I tried my earnest best, to hate. They were all present by my side, each dropping through the darkened tunnel for a head on crash over a volcanic plate. For flesh and bones are as good as void matters, without a divine gift, the will of a renegade. But ridicule me for this. Till this very day, none had ever escaped. Now this I have decided, in my selfish mind resided, to be myself once and for all, whatever the path ahead. For I have time till I'm awake, till I observe in solidarity, balancing a power of an attack on each one of my final breath, as I resurrect. This was the set agenda. To rise from the ashes. Like a phoenix lit with stardust. A perfect time to raid. Break my zeal every time and I'm fearless. I'm capable of summoning an eclipse over any dimension you choose to seek refuge, but unfortunately every dire attempts mislead. I kept failing miserably in the hollow, the path shortened to staked gallows. Yet my belief was thorough, as I passed by my wickedest nightmares dissolving in the shock waves expanding possibilities in split second-light years, as it bred. The breeding kept on; some screamed their hearts out and some repented, and mourned. Silenced were voices, eradicated temper, reborn. Their was nothing left to live for after an eternal continuity of massacre, as bodies lie in counts of billions, severed and thorned. Every moment hereafter, the cacophony, the maddened laughter. The sufferings where more than one could imagine in endless life times and here I was unaware that truest agony had merely just begun. The rotten lord of underworld awaits. Tyrant entertainment, disgusting his attainments. Howling praises, dancing wild his attendants circling by the sides of his throne. "Come forth! Embrace your misery! For once in a while, celebrate my wrath upon you as a gift I bestow upon you, alone!" As the tortured souls are tied like puppets in his dreadlocks, he wore a tainted dark fog of a gown, with a smile similar to the lips of once I came by an unhappy dead clown. Landing on the playground with a dynamic impact, as the tribe of his minions formed a tact, the most cringe-worthy laugh put a mute shock as he shook the entire hell and all he looked upon. He stared at those he fancied, those who he wanted to burn, And all the pyre, the screaming Had eventually bored him in turn. So in shift of the pulse. A telepathy he commanded a cannibalistic holocaust. The worst of evil and insanity. Beyond human recognition but similar to vices when crocodiles prey on their own born. What a scene I had to adorn. And was this the reason why I was destined to be here? To indulge into the dance of Satan, the hades in despair? I still remember the reasons why I chose to give in to this lair. For this was God's will. For me to snatch whatever was rightful from this sarcastic heir. Enough said, Enough blamed. It is time. To decide. Who's prey and who's game. Time to rip his heart out with powers he had never been able to obtain. Neither had he been fit to keep whatever he had contained. It was about time to take over the empire he acquired through treachery. Through madness, pride and the most horrible of adulteries. And with time, I created the alliance with spirits of all sort despite the pain we endure. Yet we stay put, keep aside of what's impure. On the farthest valleys of the sixth circle. Where legacy of the mystical pond was clear and visible. With jinxed tails of satires attached to each end for protection, kept the verses to his destruction at the depths of the centerfold. But had not we ever sought. Using of wit he had also fought. Not just with fragile men, but the supremacy, the divinity of God. And accomplished reasoning to his way into sanctuary. Have we given it a thought? The master of disguise, the evil of all evil, the endless outrage we despise. So tact is not what conquers the magical ornamented pond, it was above human reach and beyond. The trickster had always took the liberty to make us go through absurdity for unaccountable loops. Inertia is not a luxury as we long. So first, We need to rise against the troops! Yes, the dog-headed militants of anubis and carnivore sluts in the chambers of babylon. But here in hellfire. A different emotive shall prevail and with this manifestation we work on. If love and affection had changed dogs, men and women before for better. Even if we fail to this, we will try repeatedly, as there is no one left with earthly bodies to recover. I summon those of you together. Who had loving earthly pets, and those of you who were vets. Healers, whisperers and soothsayers are invited as well! This is war. A story God foretells. There is nothing we have to lose rather than what we decided to keep close. So let the game of God begin! Perish evil with empathy, crawling towards defeat it will undoubtedly bow down to good as gliding out of chaos is our win! Chapter 2: Change of power. The fallen has risen at it's peak. With no mercy it had seek. No land left for those willed weak. Those standing as a sacred wall against the forsaken. The time paused dramatically as the brethren, the women and guided children, awaken. Scorching his lands as awaits the eternal defeat. The terror of silent prayers spread quick. Henchmen, warlords and even hellhounds conjoined, significantly a brick. Contributing to every inch of the wall, standing tall against territories which were infected with his reign of blasphemy towards all. Abnormally silent he grew, with no muse of that terrifying shrewd. Was it a sign of a patiently organized cacophony or a glimpse of the fallen's retreat? The agony may have paused. As the nemesis shows no applaud. Seemed generous of the fraud. To be awake and yet hide inside that darkened castle, without the concern of casting wrath over those he once tortured, impossible. Impossible,I realized; was for him to summon willfully hide behind and speak aloud. Suddenly, appeared a massive cocoon. With a heart-throbbing boom. A screeching noise; A familiar voice. Tearing off the pale outer skin. Tangled tentacles, a gruesome giant cyclops with steamed blood dripping off a disgusting grin. It was him. In his truest, most hideous and violent form. The holy chain in vain, into a clot. In a glimpse, slaying all out. A bloodbath; a hurricane in a plot. Without tyrant not leaving a chance for all the flesh suits to rot. Rattling bones as they reincarnate in the vice of this unholy storm! He laughed with rage in his eyes. The slightest mercy he denies. Boiled blood, desperate cries. He spoiled every soul into a slave and granted sanctuary for those who supported his rise. A new era begun. The age of madness, revised. Fear led courage to drainage. Heads turning into self-carnage. Eating termites from the garbage. Others pleasing each other in vice. The thrash of evil had reached a brave new awakening. As he rode his griffin overhead. Making it impossible for one to believe in existence, and indulge into the victory of the fallen. The sands turned to raging lava, Whatever stood above it, ravished and melt, a death leaving no ashes. Continued for ages. Celebrating... The rise! Chapter 3:- An invitation. I felt nothing at this point. No hope, in a motiveless mind. Lost my sanity, my sight was blind. I felt nothing; Nothing that I wished to rewind. A sinister had arrived, as greeted me with a smile. It was amazing to see such a scenario in a while. "How have you been?" he asked. "The lord had sent me here to you for a task" "You might not recognize me but it was me who guided you here behind the mask". My agony ended here, alas! He grabbed my hands as a portal had opened. I was unsure where will I be taken. But not a trivial thought had bothered me to question. And we vanished into a warp of light. Paralyzed. The very next moment, I was in a land which resembled a lot like the stories I've heard before of the paradise. Still numb to my cores; From endless agony, the gore. The sweet smell of grass and earth was awfully a bore. The mystical ocean, the beautiful woman dancing, singing by the shore. Nothing. Absolutely nothing had my interest into the enigmatic aura, the beautification around me was nothing more to me than a meaningless metaphor. "Are you a son of God?" "A special breed? A lord?" The maidens kept asking, As they giggled and it made me feel the least to give it a thought. All I could think of was the misery from which my guide had me brought. Not more or no less of what I have learn and the endless nightmares I had entangled myself and uncountable others that had rot. My guide whispered with a smile- "You have endured much more than I could bet with my dear lord" "For this is where you earn your glory, from the things you have been taught." "Behold, you have been appraised by the lord himself." "The never changing fate of the spear of destiny, was engraved into the depths of your heart long before your earthly ancestors stepped foot in existence; the brightest cores of mortal might was only and incredibly for you to enthrone." "A decree has been sent for you." "A message you have been aware of ever since" "The prodigal child" "The sacred birth from the core of the of the womb of underworld." .... And I fell. Fell into the voids of the trance. The power was unleashed. I fear nothing but the one who had created me. Out of the spirit of a dwarf star, consuming anything that comes across. I felt the necessity of nothingness, the simplest of a void, over frequencies and actions of any immaterial atom reacting towards my alpha. Anything was perishable. No matter the spark of the ignition lit inside to reproduce, recreate, or replicate. Invincible. Subtle. As my surroundings smashed, Systematically erased; trashed. Into the purgatory. Into the darkness embraced. Souls are spared. Darkness, cleared. Muse of terror fled. No rule of termite or giants, A different dimension appears. Do I really ask myself of my identity? If time itself had never mattered, should I care? No more of these question had left me amazed, anymore. I was the galaxy. As a whole. As one. - ThePoetOfAbyss

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im-not-a-what · 7 years

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Roommates, Ch. 2

Title: Roommates

Summary: Canon-divergent at the end of S5. After they succeed in saving their child from Hades’ contract, Belle and Rumple return to the land of the living only to face a greater challenge: a future together with their unborn child. Three months later, they leave Storybrooke for a new life in New York. A fresh start without magic, without the shackles and crutches of their old lives. But they might find that the darkness and light of the past have followed them.

Rating: T

Genre: family, angst, humor, feels

Chapter: 2 {1}

Characters/relationships: Rumbelle

“This is impossible!”

Emotional outbursts were no foreign phenomenon to Rumplestiltskin, but where Belle was concerned, they happened with only good reason. She was the one quick to ask him to rein in his freak-outs. The last month in New York had seen a small change in that area. Right now, his morning arrival to the kitchen proved it.

“How is anyone supposed to find a job? Look at this!” Belle turned around the laptop—a machine she’d finally (mostly) tamed after two visits and two phone calls with a consulting group called the Geek Squad. She made sure he could see the cause of her vexation.

Rumple barely brushed his gaze over the screen. “Are you having trouble navigating the . . .” Damn it, what was the word? “Windows?”

“No, not this time. Look at this list of qualifications!”

Rumple pulled up a chair for a better look. His eyes were starting to feel the wear of use and age without magic to refresh them. Belle hadn’t said anything about his squinting. Yet. Fortunately, the font on the application for a bookseller position was sensibly sized. He hummed. “Two years’ experience, at least. Well, a librarian position should count. I think they set the benchmark high to keep the applicant pool manageable.”

“Look at the first item,” Belle pressed.

Rumple glanced at the first requirement. Bachelor’s degree. He’d skipped right over that.

“You’re very well-educated,” he said.

“But I don’t have a degree. All the jobs I’ve looked at require a degree. What are the people who can’t afford a formal education in this world supposed to do?”

Rumple frowned while scooting back. “Take the jobs the educated people don’t want.”

Belle sighed and lowered her eyes. She reclaimed her laptop to brood a little more. Rumple wanted to say something to chase off her gloom, so he uttered the first thought that came into his head. ‘Yes, that’s a reliable impulse’ was his second thought.

“Maybe Regina can tell you your cursed persona’s degree.”

Belle’s askance stare reproached him sooner than her words. “My cursed persona was Lacey. Regina didn’t even create her until after the curse was broken.”

Rumple winced. “Right.”

She shut the laptop like a defeated knight retiring her armor. “I should’ve realized getting a job wasn’t going to be simple. I never had to think about it before.” She shifted to look at him. “Never mind. Tell me how you’re doing. Probably having more luck than me.”

He shrugged as he finished pouring coffee into his mug. “I’ve found a few prospects in antiquing.”

Her morose mood did abate, as he’d hoped. Puzzlement replaced it. “You don’t sound excited.”

“It’s not the same as having your own business.”

“I see. Why not open your own store?”

“That would make sense if . . . if we knew this was long-term.” Rumple stared at his mug. Only after a few quiet seconds, with no answer from Belle, did he look at her.

Her confusion softened into contemplation. He wondered, against his better judgement, if she was hiding anger. Maybe she was just as uncertain about what she wanted beyond a year. That didn’t soothe Rumple. His own reluctance to settle into a different life, one void of magic, was a weakness in her eyes. And it could threaten their stability in the future, a potent fear where their child was concerned. He was trying, though.

“There’s more to it,” he pushed himself to say. “I’ll work in antiques if that’s what keeps us in the black. But just thinking about it . . . I keep remembering the past. All the years I waited for the curse to break. To find Bae. And then . . . I’d rather be reminded as little as possible. If that makes any sense.”

“It does,” Belle said, no hesitation.

He scoffed. “Really?”

She folded hands next to the sleeping laptop. It was her turn to sheepishly meet his eye. “I can’t imagine what it was like for you. For me, Storybrooke was another adventure, just as living in the Dark Castle was a kind of adventure. But I understand that it has painful associations for you.”

Rumple watched her. Didn’t it have painful associations for her, too? Because of him?

“Well,” she continued, perking up, “maybe you could set up a different shop.” She rested her chin and a playful smile on one hand. “How about a bridal shop? You have an eye for nice dresses.”

A rare, spontaneous chuckle left Rumple’s throat. “I think my involvement in other people’s love lives is behind me.”

“I don’t know. I’m picturing you arguing with a bridezilla. You know, really dramatic brides-to-be who scream at anyone and anything that doesn’t adhere to their vision of the perfect wedding.”

“Where on Earth have you heard of ‘bridezillas’?”

“I do watch TV once in a while, Rumple. And I might’ve known a lady or two back in the Enchanted Forest whose egos went wild as their nuptials approached.”

The picture of Belle outwitting belligerent brides widened Rumple’s smile. “Well, it would be different, certainly.”

“We both might need to think outside our purview of experience. Maybe I should look into cleaning jobs. Like an actual maid.” The idea made her sigh right after she said it.

“But your pregnancy—” Rumple straightened. His brows pulled upward and his eyes widened. His hand started to move toward hers.

She waved him off, all but banishing his hand back to the table. “Don’t worry. It’d be a temporary way to earn some extra income.” She paused while her fingers drummed. “I want to stay busy and be useful.”

And she wanted some control. The rent was being paid out of his bank account. There was no quick way to even out the financial imbalance between them, but he could understand that even a small contribution meant something. She had no library to turn to, no separate apartment to call her own. A pang squeezed Rumple’s heart. Not very long ago, she hadn’t needed her own money and residence. If only he hadn’t . . .

“You’ll find something,” he said. “Would you like me to help at all, if it’s in my power?”

Belle closed her eyes. He waited, barely breathing.

“I’d appreciate it.” The slight strain in her voice—the strain to her pride—urged Rumple to say or do something right away. Like touch her knuckles or her shoulder. His hand clenched. Resistance made desire burn in his bones.

“I’m heading out soon,” he said. “Should I pick up anything on my way home?”

“We’re good for now. Are you taking the car?”

“The shop is within walking distance.” Parking was hell in this city. Walking was gradually alleviating cramps in his bad leg, anyway. He could take the bus, but the thought of riding a rumbling, noisy public vehicle while surrounded by strangers who might pity his disability or catch a whiff of strangeness frazzled him. Better to take advantage of the pleasant weather. He might take another walk if he needed to recuperate from a poor interview.

“If you change your mind, I won’t need the car,” Belle said. “I might take a walk of my own over in Prospect Park. The leaves are turning. Should be gorgeous.”

Rumple smiled. With time they’d get more comfortable with New York and feel free to make impromptu plans without always having to fill each other in on their whereabouts. Right now, Belle probably wanted the security that, if some disaster occurred, he’d have some idea where she was.

They both finished breakfast in comfortable quiet. He did his best to organize his thoughts into a list of questions to ask during the interview. What was the pay? What were the hours? Were there employee benefits? They felt strange to ask when he’d been self-employed for so much of his life. Even his peasant days in the Enchanted Forest didn’t follow a 9-5 schedule. If you were a peasant, you were working all the time, morning to night. In Storybrooke, he could set his own hours, and that came with a power almost as addictive as magic.

No magic and no direct control over his income. His bad leg decided to throb.

“You’ll do great,” Belle said with a shoulder squeeze and a kiss on the head.

Rumple punched down the memories of her kisses elsewhere. “Thanks, sweetheart.” The endearment slipped out. He paused, ready for a reprimand.

Belle rubbed his shoulder, then walked over to the sink to rinse dishes. Her half-smile seemed to want to say more than her tongue was ready to.

There was something to be said about the taste of fresh air after one has spent hours surrounded by old furniture and objects. He remembered loving the confines of his shop; it had been his haven, his dragon’s den of treasures. Maybe with the enlightenment of hindsight, he could recall the weight of that confinement. A self-punishment. The Dark Castle had been a larger (but just as shuttered) version. Sanctuary and prison—his shop, his castle, his magic.

The outside air and utter mundanity of New York didn’t evoke the sensation of shackles falling off, as he’d secretly hoped. It was more like throwing away one’s clothes and trying to walk on a log across a ravine, naked to the elements. Any minute, either exposure or gravity would get him. Yet he found some strength deep, deep down to walk forward. He’d exited the antique shop, intentionally blanking his mind of how well or poorly it went and just walked.

Sightseeing or people-watching didn’t hold his interest. He found himself taking note of the other stores in the more commercial part of town. His feet slowed when he noticed a consignment shop and its window of slightly gaudy vintage women’s clothes and, in the corner, the sign NOW HIRING. As soon as he saw the young people manning the register and their casual attire, he moved on. He might want to work somewhere other than an antique shop, but the idea of giving up his suits seemed as gruesome as a tortoise being forced out of its shell.

A part of him wanted to go home, and a part of him didn’t. Belle might be waiting there. She might’ve already left for an errand. She might’ve preferred he not come home so soon. He didn’t really know. He knew so little about what she wanted now. Or he had little idea what he could give her except her space. Belief, perhaps, that he’d hold true to his promise, to fight against the emptiness in his stomach when he couldn’t feel magic pulling at him, urging him to apparate somewhere, or summon something, or transform the driver of a vehicle zooming through a changing traffic light into a toad. The impulse remained. It was like when he’d hobbled his own leg; an ability he’d taken for granted had been stripped away. Yet he’d managed. Struggled. All for his family.

His heart tightened. Sometimes this situation with Belle felt all too familiar. Not as bad, at least. No, no. If Belle didn’t love him, she would’ve ended it. She didn’t have the reasons Milah did for staying. Well, there was their unborn child. Milah had loved Bae, if not enough to overcome her loathing of her cowardly husband. They’d landed in a desperate spot with limited options. Belle had the means to say it was over, and they could still raise their child. Not ideal, but not the worst a child could live with, so long as that child knew both parents loved them. And Belle would love their child with all her heart. That much he knew. She’d loved their child more than she could ever hate him. But, by the gods, he wasn’t going to test that!

A little fear had its benefits. Rumple considered that with a bitter smile.

When he became aware of the world around him thanks to some blaring horns at a jammed intersection, Rumple realized he’d walked farther than intended. He truly was downtown, a confusing crisscross of avenues and currents of people and automobiles, like swarming insects. Rather than find his way to a homeward route, he spotted a bus bench and took a seat. Stiffness clamped like a vise around his ankle. As he rubbed the taut muscles, feeling the uneven healing in his bones, he distracted himself with more window shopping. His eyes were getting tired. What was he even looking for? Some special sign just for him? Even fate wasn’t that obvious. The path he needed, the straight line down this tightrope walk he was on, wasn’t going to scream out at him—

Something caught his eye. Something in a shop window toward the end of the block. He leaned in his seat, squinting. Was that—no. He pushed himself up. Might as well make certain he was wrong and carry that as a reminder in future bouts of foolishness. His ankle buckled for a second. He growled under his breath and stamped his cane stubbornly on the cement. One look and he’d head home.

As he approached, certainty grew, along with disbelief. Disbelief that deserved swearing.

He couldn’t say what floored him more. On the other side of the store window he now looked into, a shelf of yarn and fabric spanned an entire wall. Tables and counters had a standing army of sewing machines, sewing kits, yarn and crochet kits, even paint sets and small canvases.

On the window itself, embossed in gold print, read the shop’s name.

Rumple tilted his head back. He looked directly at the sky for the first time in ages. “Are you kidding me?” he said.

When his eyes dropped down to the sign, a waving hand behind it called his attention. A black, rotund woman was cheerily greeting him. The impulse to run away or rudely ignore her couldn’t quite smother the incredulous intrigue. Why did this exist? Why had he found it? Just, why?

Why was he walking inside?

The jingle overhead shouldn’t have stirred so much nostalgia. The subtle scents of cloth transported him to well before Storybrooke’s existence. Fleetingly, he imagined a boy sitting on a stool while his aunts showed him how to work the loom, guiding the shuttle like a serpent through the grass.

The woman behind the counter had a radiance that would’ve suited someone’s aunt or mother. Possibly someone’s grandmother, as suggested by the crow’s feet around her smiling eyes.

“Afternoon! Can I help you with anything today?”

“Well . . . I noticed your shop sign.” Pathetic. His nerve was faltering already. But he had doubts that he wasn’t dreaming right now.

The woman laughed. “You like? I suggested it to Laura—she’s the owner and she wanted to spice up the name to catch people’s eye. Guess it worked!”

Rumple faintly nodded. “Actually, I was wondering if you’re hiring.”

She gasped. “Oh, yeah! Hang on, let me grab Laura. Gimme a sec.”

The wait after the woman hustled into a hidden back room gave Rumple enough time to question this decision and wonder if he should leave. Wasn’t this just a joke to further torment him about the past?

The shop was small and cluttered. Bright lights above brought every color to life. He felt like a black spot on this vibrant canvas. His purple shirt and tie did help offset the charcoal suit.

The lady returned with another black woman—more petite, about ten years older with glasses and gray, short hair. “Afternoon,” she pleasantly greeted. “You’re looking for a job?”

“If you’re looking for more employees,” he said.

She waved him toward her. “Come back into my office and we’ll chat. I’m Laura Smith.”

“Malcolm Gold.” The name came a little too easily. Sure, it was the name on his resume—“Mr.” could pass in a cursed Maine town; not so much in an uncursed city in the Land Without Magic. He hated the choice, yet he couldn’t think of anything more appropriate. Any odd revision of his real name sounded obvious and ridiculous. And why shouldn’t he carry a name abandoned by its previous owner? Maybe he could make it more respectable. Ah, a familiar story.

“Gold?” The other woman lit up, delightedly astonished.

Rumple half-smiled, half-winced. As he followed Laura, her employee introduced herself as Jazire. He told himself not to latch any expectations on the shop or its workers, yet he stored the name in his mind out of habit. In the office, just as cozy and haphazardly stuffed with textile tools and a filing cabinet, he had to pause at the presence of a small but functional spinning wheel tucked in a corner. Ms. Smith offered him a chair before taking a seat herself.

“Forgive the mess,” she said. “We’re been reorganizing. So, tell me about yourself. You have experience in fabrics?”

“I do. Uh, I have a copy of my resume.” He extracted it from his briefcase and handed it to her while adding, “More recently I’ve made a living as a small business owner, but I started working with textiles long before that.”

She took a careful but concise glance at the stiff, cream-colored paper. “You are new to Brooklyn?”

He nodded. “My wife and I wanted a new start. We’re expecting.”

That news immediately earned a heartfelt “Congratulations!” even as she gave his credentials serious scrutiny. Rumple wasn’t naïve; explaining that his job search was motivated by a future family couldn’t hurt his prospects. While they talked about his previous shop, he stole a peek at the spinning wheel behind him. It was a similar model to what he used in his peasant days, a castle wheel designed to take up as little space as possible. It looked recently restored—varnished wood, polished spindle.

“Do you spin the thread and yarn here?” he asked at an opportune pause in conversation.

“Oh, no,” Laura said, disappointed. “I wish I knew how. I purchased it from a friend. I thought about putting out in the window as a display.”

A strange thought entered Rumple’s head. “Would you be interested in learning? I could teach you.”

Her thin eyebrows popped up. “You know how to spin?”

“I do. My experience in textiles does extend to that.”

She scooted closer to the desk. “How would you feel about teaching a small class?”

“You have classes?”

“Sure! Jazire teaches sewing and knitting. We advertise classes on signs, flyers, our website and Facebook page. Jazire can tell you more about the online . . . stuff.” Her fluttering handwave had Rumple chuckling, politely. “We’ve had regular enrollment in our other classes. I think a spinning class would be popular. A lot of customers are interested in homemade products. They’d be thrilled to know they can make their own yarn!”

“And you can just order wool fibers?”

“I’ve looked into it. The expense would be covered by the price of classes, even if the classes are only four or five people at a time.”

He’d not thought to look that up himself. He hadn’t needed to in Storybrooke. He’d had lanolin stocked in his shop thanks to the curse’s thoroughness, the same convenient power that supplied Granny’s freezer and the local grocery store. There was little need to order anything, limited as their goods were. He hadn’t done much spinning in his free time, and his wool had come with him from the Enchanted Forest. All that magic had brushed away so many inconveniences of mundane life—inconveniences he now had to be prepared to wrangle. Oh, gods.

“Are you all right?” Laura asked with grandmotherly concern.

Rumple noticed the cold shiver when it was already halfway down his body. “Yes! Yes, sorry. I’m just . . . curious about the clientele you usually have.”

Laura assured him that while spinning was far from a necessity, its novelty would attract older, upper-middle-class clients hungry for a hobby. By the time she finished her explanation of how the classes at the shop operated, Rumple had regained enough presence of mind to not look stricken or distracted. She pulled the conversation back to spinning, specifically wool, which he felt much more comfortable discussing. The more he shared his experience with different wool types, then plant fibers, the more Laura brightened with interest.

A strange sense of relief blanketed him well before he left the shop with a formal application and a promise that Laura would get in touch within a week of receiving his paperwork. Jazire made sure to shake his hand, a gesture he guessed she deemed an important gauge of character. Either that or she just wanted to be friendly. The shop, its atmosphere, even its owner and worker whispered déjà vu. The modern setting was still a far cry from a humble, often chilly hovel that barely supported two spinsters and the orphan they’d taken in. When he stepped into the gently nipping autumnal air, it was a splash of water or a sobering slap. The how’s and why’s and should I’s trailed behind him like a gaggle of annoying children that prompted him to keep looking over his shoulder. He had to briefly double back and check that he hadn’t hallucinated everything.

Two weeks later, he hesitantly asked Belle if she’d like to walk with him to his new job. That was his way of announcing that he was indeed an employed man. Belle was more curious than enthused, even while she grinned and hugged him in congratulations. She was proud. Truly she was. He let himself hug her in return, pressing flat hands into her shoulder blades and drawing light circles. Her delicate scent elated him; the tension in her shoulders, the sign of her inwardly directed annoyance that she still hadn’t met success herself, begged him to kiss them or offer a relieving rub.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “But there’s a special reason I want you to see it yourself.”

Belle pulled back, but not completely out the embrace. He was immensely grateful. “Why?”

“Because if I just told you about it, you would never believe me.”

He probably inspired more anxiety than intended. It was worth it to keep Belle in suspense until, arm in arm, they arrived at the shop. Belle’s jaw started dropping eeven before they stopped before the shop's sign.

“You’re right,” she said. “I wouldn’t have believed you.”

“I know it sounds strange to ask,” Rumple said, “but does this seem right? Or disturbingly bizarre?”

Belle studied the shop front before replying. The name deserved some time to absorb: RUMPELSTILTKSKIN HOMEMADE CRAFTS. The cheery hues within poured around the antiquated yet playful script.

“Are you asking if I think this might be fate?” she asked.

“It’s a little on the nose.”

“A little?” Her arched response carried that perfect blend of sweet teasing and dry wit—iconic Belle humor. Rumple had to beat back the urge to nuzzle and kiss her. There was no stopping the wide smile.

She took a turn for shiny-eyed sentiment that left him a little raw, the kind of rawness that weakened his knees. “I think it’s just right. Maybe obvious, but that’s no reason not to try it.” She eyed the store again. A slow revelation slipped into her expression. She muted it behind a smile when she looked at him, as though she wanted to let him come to the same epiphany on his own. “I think it will go well.”

“I hope so. Laura said I could wear suits, but I might need to give up the jacket while working the counter.”

“Then may I suggest you break out the sleeve garters?”

He patted his upper arm. “I’d be naked without them.”

Her giggle and her squeeze on his arm brought on another warm swell of affection. He could swear she rubbed her thumb in the crook of his elbow before he escorted her into the shop to introduce her to his coworker. Jazire was already awaiting them with a smile and a wave.

#ouat fic #rumbelle fic #rumbelle #verse: our fine town

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at-least-cry-a-little · 7 years

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Cegan Prompts list

I’ve seen lately that some people are writing awesome things inspired by prompts and I thought it could be helpful to make a kind of prompt master-list of all the little things that have come up at some point? I tried to do this months ago, but it got really messy, really fast, so this is a second... questionably more organized attempt.

Also I’m adding the users who posted the prompts so anyone can ask them permission. If there is no name it means I was the one who posted it, you don’t have to ask (use it, change it a little, change it a lot, it’s yours).

I’m also adding links in case someone is filling/has already filled a prompt, if you want to make sure someone’s not already doing the exact same thing you’re thinking of (but I’m a great believer that a fandom never has enough soulmates or cafeteria aus).

P.s: please tell me about anything you’d add or if you see there’s anything wrong :) this can be actualized as many times as necessary.

General

@shipping-cegan “Imagine your OTP cuddling during a thunderstorm and person B is terrified and person A has to comfort them and strokes their hair and does other cute things until they fall asleep oh my god I’m going down mayday mayday.”

@awkwardterror Carl getting injured during his attempt to kill Negan, getting taken to the Saviors’ doctor who patches him up and pumps him full of painkillers aka say hello to slightly age regressed/whiny and cuddly Carl who definitely does not see the issue in clinging to a very (at first) disturbed Negan.

- @agentevil filled this (x).

(full prompt here) So what if there were still scientists working on fixing this giant fuck up that is the zombie apocalypse? What if they found a vaccine? Imagine humans start to regain control over the land and rebuild society.

- @bubblewrapstargirl filled this (x).

Soulmate AUs

@ticcraft The Soulmate AU where when you touch you can finally see all the beautiful colors of the world.

The dead may walk the earth but life keeps going, and people keep getting their soulmate’s first words tattooed in their skin, and that at least is one of the small joys there is left. When Carl wakes up one morning with his shoulder burning and he reads “Shit kid, lighten up, at least cry a little” he is not sure what to think. The universe works in mysterious ways.

@shipping-cegan Soulmate AU where people have half a tattoo, and when you meet your soulmate it’s completed. Imagine Carl not being able to find his soulmate, so he decides to make an appointment to complete the tattoo. But when the tattoo artist (Negan) enters the room he sees that it’s complete, and so is his own half.

- @negans-carl filled this (x).

(Non-apocalyptic) Modern AUs

@bunny-lou Negan is looking for a sitter for his kid (Judith or Daryl?) and Carl responds for the job.

(Neighbours au) Carl loves his dad, but he’s really happy to finally be able to move out to his own apartment. Even if the only one he could afford is in this pretty shitty building, and his only neighbors are an old lady who looks like she could kill you, a (really handsome) asshole called Negan, and his cat, Lucille, which lowkey reminds him of Ms Norris from Harry Potter and somehow keeps sneaking into his home and making him have to knock on Negan’s door to give her back.

@flyingmintbunny123 Negan and Carl get snowed in one day and sexiness ensues

@flyingmintbunny123 It’s Cegan’s first New Years together and at midnight they have their first kiss!!

@flyingmintbunny123 This is gonna be meta af but Carl finds a comic with the characters Andrew Lincoln, Chandler Riggs etc. and notices everyone he knows kinda looks like them.

(Mafia AU) Carl starts looking for a part time job for the summer and ends up working as the delivery guy/coffee guy/sometimes secretary for the CEO of this very (very) suspicious company, The Sanctuary Inc., a man called Negan. Carl has the vague impression that he’s working for the mafia, but hell, Negan pays well.

(Prison AU) Carl starts hanging out with the bad kids, does some dumb shit, and ends up getting into some serious trouble with law. He gets just one year, but it still feels like the end of the world.To top it all off, the first thing he does when he sets a foot in the prison is to piss off the one inmate that everyone seems to be scared shitless off. His name, the man happily informs him, is Negan.

@why-do-i-ship-this is currently filling this (x).

Other Fictional Universe AU

@weinsanedreamer55 (Hunger Games AU) Negan being Carl’s bristly ptsd mentor (came up in this post).

@My-flatmate-when-he-read-the-aforementioned-post: “Why did none of you creeps think of Negan being President Negan and rigging the hunger games in Carl’s favor just cause he likes him?” (P.s: you don’t have to credit my flatmate and the Hunger Games au is still Weinsanedreamer’s idea).

Beauty and the Beast AU? Negan being all dramatic about being a monster and shit? Carl saving the day by the power of his luscious hair and his pure heart? No? What if I told you that Simon could be Ms Potts?

(Hogwarts AU) It’s Carl’s last year in Hogwarts. Just one more year and he won’t have to see the Quidditch Coach’s handsome stupid face ever again. No, he’s not sad about it, and no, he won’t miss his crude jokes, ok? He’s glad to get Mr Negan out of his hair, thank you very much.

Other AUs

(Greek Goods AU) Negan and Carl as Hades and Persephone.

- @okuma-holmes did fanart for this (x)

- I did fanart for this (x)

@bunny-lou Negan is a pirate who takes only the most beautiful treasures. When he sails to Alexandria, the gold doesn’t interest him, but a young man with only one eye who isn’t afraid of him might be his greatest treasure yet.

@bunny-lou (Vampire!AU) One is a vampire hunter out to kill the other?

@okuma-holmes did fanart of this (x)

(Demon!Carl AU) (full prompt here) Negan realizing there’s something not quite right with Carl, but not being able to put his finger on it, until he asks “The hell is wrong with you, kid?”, and Carl smiles, his one eye going pitch black, and he whispers, “Oh, so many things.”.

- @imaginecegan is currently filling this (x)

(Werewolf!Negan AU) That’s basically it, Negan’s a werewolf. This started as a Little Red Ridding Hood inspired thing, so that could also be a cool approach.

- I am currently filling this (x)

(Western AU) The only reason why Negan is sipping bad whiskey in this dirty corner of this dirty tavern is to get familiar with the town, so when he robs the bank, he’s in and out fast. He’ll admit that he didn’t plan for the Sheriff’s son to take a seat beside him and be all like “Hey, I know what you’re up to, you should go, before you find out how dangerous we all are”.

#cegan #cegan prompts #I hope this is somewhat helpful #it just seems like such a shame that some prompts get lost in the tag #and some are so cool #I am personally waiting for someone to actually write the vampire thingy

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nezzfiction · 6 years

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ENMY Chapter 71 - Black and White

Chapter Synopsis: With the battle for Atlas concluded, the Kingdom is ushered into a different era of rule. Meanwhile, the greater game resumes in the fight against Salem.

Series Synopsis: Team RWBY is disbanded, and Yang must find herself new allies. For her, that might very well be yesterday’s enemies. Joining up with the likes of Emerald, Mercury, and Neo, the four will comprise Team Enemy(ENMY).

Links to read the series: Ao3 or FF.net

Or hit the jump below

Black and White

I can’t change who I love.

I can’t ask you to return my feelings.

But if you did feel the same way,

…

Would it hurt you so much to show it?

“…”

At the top of a Tower, in the night that cast shadows never-ending, Weiss stared at the back of a fluttering caped figure. Their visage stood stoic against the breeze and the ever-dark horizon. She couldn’t have known, she couldn’t have even imagined back then. Only now, did it seem so obvious.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” Weiss’s voice barely a whisper.

“…It’s meeee, who?”

“You’re her. The voice that helped me after Hades gave me the poisoned apple. The one who protected me, while I slept. And then, you helped me again when Ruby came to wake me up. That was you.”

The mysterious figure showed no signs of turning around. Her white hood hid her expression and features.

“Oh. Yeah, that was me,” the voice answered.

Weiss paused for a moment.

“…You’re Ruby’s mother.”

“Ahaha~ What gave it away?”

“Why can’t anyone find you? Why hide yourself?”

“That’s a little bit of an ask. Besides, even if I told you, you wouldn’t remember anyway~”

The sudden realization took Weiss by surprise.

“…! That’s right! After I woke up, why couldn’t I remember you?!”

“That is kind of how dreams work…”

“But! Ruby misses you! She wants to meet you! And… Yang. She feels the same way, I’m sure.”

“Oh. Yes, well,” Summer’s shoulders shifted uncomfortably. “I’m glad to hear that.”

Weiss could only continue to stare at Summer’s blurring figure. Something told her if she came too close, the woman would disappear into nothing but petals in the wind.

What a beautiful voice, Weiss thought.

It rung like the moon in a starless sky. It filled the void, and then dissipated as quickly as it came. A fleeting nature that didn’t seem real…

“Is there no way of letting us know where you are?” Weiss asked.

“Ah. You don’t need to worry about that. People will remember where I went off to soon enough.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oops. Looks like we’re out of time! Tell my daughters I miss them too! Not that you’ll remember anyway!”

“WAIT! HEY!”

…

“WEEEIIIISSSSS!!!”

“What do you want, Ruby?! I was in the middle of a very important discussion with your—!” Weiss jolted awake violently in a hospital bed. “…Where are we?”

“Told you I could wake her up,” Ruby puffed her chest out. “Now, free my prisoners!”

“Fine!” Mercury conceded and pushed the units he captured from his side of the board game to Ruby’s.

“You too, Coco! I did it without a kiss this time!”

“It was worth a shot,” the girl with sunglasses muttered, as she returned her captured pieces as well. “Welcome back to the world of the living, princess.”

“………Someone care to explain to me what exactly is going on?!”

As Weiss looked about the hospital room, there were rows of beds set up on opposite sides. While a couple of patients seemed to crowd around Ruby’s to play a board game, the others were filled with more than familiar faces.

“Oh, hey. Morning, Weiss,” Jaune waved with a bandaged arm.

“Um, good morning~” Pyrrha joined, while in the middle of feeding Jaune a sliced apple.

“What?”

“Oh, yeah. Pyrrha’s alive,” Ruby added as an afterthought.

“What?!”

“Hello, again~”

“I said, PYRRHA’S ALIVE!” Ruby shouted at the top of her lungs. “Oh, wait. You were just surprised, not that you didn’t hear me. Yeah. Cinder and Yang brought her back to life.”

“WHAT?!”

“I said…”

“She heard you!” Emerald shouted from the other bed, immediately regretting her decision. “No more yelling. It’s making my head ring.”

“Should I ask the nurse for more morphine?” Mercury offered.

“She won’t let me have anymore.”

“I can say it’s for me and just hook you up.”

“God, yes, do it. What’s it gonna cost me?”

“Your fruit jello.”

“Done. Get her ass in here.”

“So, glad all of you are so energetic after yesterday’s dramatic affairs,” a sultry voice permeated the room, and drew everyone’s focus.

“Cinder!” Emerald brightened as the young woman stopped at the foot of her bed.

“No more morphine.”

“Boo!”

Cinder continued to walk between the patients before stopping at Weiss. A single, amber eye focused on her fellow Maiden. The one previously lost in battle was replaced with a rather dignified-looking eyepatch.

“You and I have some very important matters to discuss, Weiss Schnee,” she clasped her hands behind her in an authoritative manner.

“…I suppose so,” Weiss worded warily. “You haven’t killed us yet. There must be a reason. Do you want to use me as some sort of political pawn?”

“Actually—”

“I refuse.”

Tensions rose immediately as silence filled the thick air.

Cinder gave Weiss the pregnant pause to allow the patient some time to reflect on her next words carefully. Besides, suddenly waking in a hospital bed, surrounded by allies and enemies alike, along with a resurrected Pyrrha—Cinder understood it would be enough to make anyone a little…unbalanced.

“I will choose to overlook that for now,” the Fall Maiden waved off. “First, let me say I would never dream of making a pawn of you. You’re far too powerful and individualistic for me to control, and you would prove a better asset if you acted independently. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. At this point in time, I need you to reactivate the Aegis System.”

“…What?”

“The giant force field covering the city, providing safe sanctuary to the citizens of Atlas. I’m sure you’ve heard of it.”

“Rrgh!”

Cinder’s snide aside, Weiss asserted the powers of the Winter Maiden, and found to her surprise she still had access to the Tower’s defense capabilities.

“After gaining full control of the Tower, I granted you the same administrative authority you once held, below my own, of course,” the woman answered Weiss’s question for her. Cinder then, tapped on her electronic ear piece and spoke into it. “How is their response, General?”

The radio cracked.

“Alliance forces are retreating. Your bluff seems to have worked.”

“And now, to make the lie—truth. That will be all, Trafalgar. I will see you and Ironwood in a few hours.”

Cinder tapped the comms off and peered deeply into Weiss’s soul, while pulling up a nearby chair. If the devil themselves sat down at the table to make a deal, Weiss surely thought it would start like this.

“Despite any personal feelings you may harbor towards me, I only hold you in the highest respects. You were truly a worthy opponent. And it is my hope, you will make for an even keener ally.”

“…”

“Upon being named Queen of Atlas,” Cinder emphasized with a gratuitous smile, “I publicly expressed my opinion of your importance to this nation. And in the backstage, rumors of a dual matriarchy have been circulated. I only await your response.”

Weiss could not keep the surprise on her face from showing. Cinder had just suggested they co-ruled Atlas together. Paranoia took reins over her thoughts. She had to figure there was some sort of scheme to it.

Just as Weiss was about to argue or search for the hidden agenda, the leader of the Kingdom leaned forward.

“Surely, you’ve realized, Weiss Schnee, this is no time to reignite a civil power struggle between us. Although, I could clearly have you erased should you refuse, finding a suitable replacement, much less controlling the Winter Maiden’s Inheritance, would prove more trouble than its worth,” Cinder’s smile was so sharp, it could cut glass. “No. Together, you and I can lead Atlas into a more promising future. You’re smart, formidable, and resolved. I have no doubt you would have made an excellent regent for this Kingdom, had I not intervened. But united,” she knotted her hands together. “We could be the unstoppable force and the immovable object.”

Cinder gestured to herself. “Queen”. Then, to Weiss. “And, Queen.”

The Fall Maiden saw the gears turning in the other’s head.

“Take your time to digest this information. Think on it, consult your confidants. I will await your answer with bated expectation.”

“…” Weiss closed her eyes solemnly. “As if I have an actual choice in the matter.”

“Hm. I understand the doubts you hold, but in time, you will see I am true to my word. Because deep down, in your heart of practical hearts you know the same truth I do.” Her tone went even. “You and I are essential to the Kingdom of Atlas—completely ingrained and irreplaceable.”

“…”

“Besides,” she added with a wave. “Having you as a puppet would be such a waste. No, I need to put you to work as soon as possible. The Great War resumes, my fellow Queen. I expect you to report for duty in two days and no later.”

“I…” Weiss gripped her bedsheets tightly. “…will think on it.”

Without waiting for further response, Cinder tossed Weiss a snow-white signet ring she had already prepared. It matched Cinder’s own char black one on her index finger. The ring bore the Schnee family crest embedded with the Fall family’s insignia. Its significance was not lost on Weiss.

The Queen then, strode out of the hospital ward, already making another call on her ear piece. Once she was gone, the Winter Maiden gazed down at the piece of jewelry. Her mind trying to absorb the symbol and the weight carried within it.

“Unbelievable…” she muttered dishearteningly. “Must she always act like she knows everything?”

““Pretty much.”” Emerald and Mercury said together.

“At least we’re not dead,” Coco commented.

“Unbelievable,” Weiss continued to mutter, burying her head in her knees. “This is disgraceful.”

“Yeah. You should be grateful,” Mercury said.

“No, Merc. She said disgraceful. With a ‘dissss’,” Ruby corrected.

“Oh. You can make out the difference in that?”

“Weiss does this all the time when she gets embarrassed or really emotional.”

“Ruby! Why are you acting so friendly with them?! Team ENMY corrupted this Kingdom, started a battle between the Alliance and Atlas, and placed a complete sociopath in control of this nation!”

“Hey!” Emerald took offense. “This Kingdom was already corrupted before we got here, so we didn’t have anything to do with that! Boom!”

“Boom!” Mercury echoed.

“This Kingdom is doomed,” Weiss palmed her face. After a few more agonizing sighs and groans, she leaned back into the recline of her bed. “I suppose I have Yang Xiao Long to thank for all of this…”

“Yeah! You do!”

“No, Merc,” Ruby corrected him again. “She was being sarcastic.”

“Really? I swear, I cannot get a beat on this girl.”

“Nah,” Emerald joined. “It’s just that everything she says sounds so whiny and complainy, you just can’t tell.”

“Oh, makes sense. Knew it couldn’t have been me.”

“And by the way, snow angel. You should be thanking Yang—for like—everything.”

Weiss glared, but stopped at Ruby tugging at her sleeve.

“You were asleep when they told us. Yang… she made sure the least amount of damage as possible was done.”

“What?”

“You idiots were going to fight a war with the Alliance anyway,” Emerald elaborated. “Because we triggered the battle prematurely, everyone’s plans were messed up, so both sides entered the battle looking for an excuse to leave it from the get-go. It’s why all the soldiers wanted to retreat so quickly. Duh!”

“…”

“She also made a deal with Cinder,” Ruby resumed. “Apparently, there were a bunch of conditions. One of them, was that Cinder would offer to rule Atlas with you.”

“Yeah!” Emerald glared. “Yang was the one, who convinced Cinder you were too useful to kill. That she stood a better chance of defeating Salem with the current Winter Maiden alive. Cause of that, killing any of your little friends is also off the table. You’re welcome!”

“…Unbelievable.”

“I’m starting to think that word doesn’t mean what she thinks it means,” Mercury commented.

The door to the patient room opened again to a nurse-cosplaying Neo arriving with a bowl of ice cream.

“Nurse! I need more morphine!” Emerald raised her hand. “These assholes are giving me a migraine!”

Neo only shoved more spoonfuls of ice cream into her mouth with a blank look.

“Damn it, Neo! Get me Yang or something!”

“Heyo?”

Yang followed Neo right after, and an awkward pause hung in the air for a second or two.

“Yang, go steal me some morphine.”

“Is that what the doctor prescribed?” Yang asked with a smirk.

“FUCK what the doctor prescribed! I’m your team leader, and I order you to steal me some pain pills!”

“Okay, okay. Take it easy, Em,” the blonde girl snickered. “I knew you’d want some anyway, so…” With a flick of her wrist, she materialized a bottle of pills and tossed it to Emerald. “Now, only take two every—she just downed the whole bottle. Kay, maybe some private sleepy time would be best. Neo?”

The petite girl nodded and began to wheel Emerald to a private room. Once they were gone, Mercury threw one of the game pieces at Yang to get her attention.

“Hey, so is the pharmacy closed, or do you have any more hospital presents?”

“Those were placebos, Merc. You didn’t really think I was gonna give her a full bottle of painkillers, did you?”

“I can dream.”

“The dream’s dead, buddy. Just gonna have to make due with classic R&R—or until Jaune gets his mojo back.”

“Hey, miracle touch! How close are you till your Semblance is back online?” Mercury yelled over to the other bed.

“Not soon,” Jaune replied flatly.

Mercury motioned for Yang to lean close for a whisper. “You think he’s still mad I ate his cereal that one time?”

“Ohhhhh yeah. Totes.”

After a small laugh, Yang turned to face Weiss.

“Weiss.”

“Yang.”

The Winter Maiden took one more glance about the room.

“…Where’s Blake? I also don’t see Qrow, Raven, or Adam here.”

“Qrow’s being held nearby.” Yang shrugged. “He’s fine, Ruby,” she added after seeing worry in her little sister.

“As for Blake…”

X X X X X

(Yesterday, shortly after Pyrrha’s revival)

“As much as I’d hate to break this tearful reunion,” Cinder rolled her eye at the sight of Jaune weeping openly into Pyrrha’s arms. “I believe we should start cleaning up this mess.”

Yang took a cursory glance at the heavily injured bodies of her former teammates.

“Yeah. Also, I’m worried about Em and Merc.”

“As am I.”

“…”

“…? What?”

“Nothing. Just didn’t expect you to come out and say something like that.”

“Hmph. Enough of that,” Cinder dismissed. “Raven’s condition is also a point of concern.”

“Neo did her job. Their fight ended the cleanest.”

“Yes, but I doubt the replication of Ruby Rose’s Magic can imprison her for long. We would do well to confirm her capture as soon as—”

The two Maidens jumped back at the sudden cascade of black miasma flooding the chamber.

“Blake?!” Yang shouted into the fog. “This fight’s over! It won’t be hard to put you down again, so let’s give it a rest! Look, Pyrrha’s alive! We should just…”

“NoO!!!” Blake’s distorted voice grew with the encroaching haze. “It’S A TrIcK!!! pYRHhA’S DEaD!!”

“Blake! Stop this, now! Your Semblance is getting too close to them!!!”

“IT’s a LIE!!!!”

A giant, shadow cat leapt at Pyrrha, and was about to bite down on her, when Jaune raise his shield. Blake’s teeth engulfed his arm, sinking the corruptive substance into his skin. The young man buckled in pain, but then glowed with an argent hue that flickered like a dying light bulb.

“Damn it!”

Yang catapulted forward, only for her punch to whiff through the smoke. The cat Faunus reappeared at a distance, her Semblance still billowing around her. Her expression twisted in anguish as she braced the sides of her head.

“It CaN’T be…!! PyrHHa iS DeAD!”

“Blake! Get a grip—”

Cinder laid a hand on Yang’s shoulder.

“It’s meaningless trying to get through to her,” the Fall Maiden stopped her comrade, and stepped forward. “You’re there, aren’t you? I knew the moment I saw your pet project materialize your Grimoire. So, Blake Belladonna is to be your next vessel?”

Blake stopped rocking back and forth. She stepped out of the fog to reveal tattoos painted across her body. Dark cracks webbed her skin and the whites in her eyes were inked jet black.

“Is that surprise I detect in your voice, dearest Cinder?” Blake spoke in a tone that was not her own. “Surely, you must have known this would happen, or did the infallible Cinder Fall make such a simple oversight?”

“Salem…” Cinder scowled. “I’m only too happy that you didn’t choose Raven, as I had initially predicted.”

“You do have a bad habit of overlooking simple clues, after deciding on an obvious outcome.”

“SALEM!!!” Yang’s voice boomed with a roaring fire.

The sudden plume of fire made the chamber shake with a violent tremor.

“Ah, yes, the Maiden of Spring. Are you absolutely sure you wish to act on this impulse? Your friends seem to be in awful vulnerable proximity.” Blake looked to Ruby, Weiss, and Jaune still injured on the floor. “They ARE still in fact your friends, I presume? No matter how much you hide it or shun it—or earn their deepest ire, it does not bode well do deny it. This latest development just proves that. You cannot change who you love. Isn’t that correct, Cinder?”

The two Maidens went silent, thinking on their next move. As if to make sure they didn’t find such an alternative, Blake materialized the black tome they saw in their previous battle. From its flipping pages, an unfamiliar emblem projected from it.

“Allow me to retreat with Adam and Raven, or there will be irreversible consequences.”

“No deal,” Yang answered.

“I must concur,” Cinder added.

“There is no shame in acquiescing as small a defeat as this, following such a grand victory,” Salem spoke amiably. “With my possession of Blake Belladonna, it would not take much to render this chamber inoperable. Not only that, but killing your friends would be such a simple feat. It would require the sacrifice of this vessel, but… I do what I must,” Salem revealed a sorrowful expression. “Meet my demands, Cinder. I will not ask again.”

“…You may take Adam only.”

“Tsk tsk tsk. Oh, dear. Contrary to what you think, Raven is my willing accomplice. Even should you keep her, you would not be able to hold her. You know this better than anyone.”

Salem’s words cut deeper than Cinder could have imagined. She bit so hard into her bottom lip that it bled freely. She wanted with everything to destroy the one standing in front of her, even it was just a possession.

“This changes nothing.”

A calm voice reverberated at her side.

“This changes nothing, Cinder,” Yang repeated. “We’ll find her again. And next time, we’ll be ready—it just won’t be today…”

“…” The Fall Maiden blinked slowly and sighed. “You are correct, Yang. We did not prepare for this thoroughly. One of her best cards has been revealed. There is a bigger game to be won.”

“Yeah…”

The two Maidens eased their fighting stances.

“Leave,” Cinder snarled. “Begone from my sight, Witch.”

Blake gave off a lighthearted chuckle.

“Do not be discouraged, young Cinder. I’ve just been playing this game longer than you have. Well, until we meet again. I bid you farewell, Maiden of Fall and Maiden of Spring.”

With a bow, Blake disappeared in a shock of smoke.

Upon reviving everyone from their sleep, Yang and Cinder would find Raven and Adam gone.

A bitter taste of chagrin left in the back of their thoughts.

X X X X X

“…That’s all I came here to say,” Yang stood from her chair, after explaining the events that transpired after the battle.

“Yang,” Weiss called out to her. Her brow knitted with conflicting thoughts. “I’m sorry I dishonored our duel.”

“I think we’re way past apologies by now.”

“But that is all I am sorry for.”

“…”

“You caused all of this. I understand why you did it. I don’t blame you, but I will hold you accountable. This situation, the things you’ve set into motion, and the damages you’ve caused—they’re also responsibilities of the victor. You may have done it for good reasons, but I can only wonder if a day doesn’t come where you won’t regret winning. I was prepared for all the consequences and its burdens. Are you?”

They stood in a tense silence for a moment, before Yang chuckled.

“Heh! You’re putting way too much care into playing the good loser, Weiss. All I did was act on a bunch of selfish whims. There’s nothing to regret for me.”

“…”

Just as Yang was making her way through the door, she stopped. Her expression etched in stone.

“Accept Cinder’s deal, Weiss. We don’t have time to waste fighting you. I’d rather put my fist through Salem’s face then yours. Blake needs my help, and so do both my moms. If you do anything to stop me again, I swear, I’ll end you the next time. That’s a promise.”

As Yang moved into the hallway, she took a stuttering breath to settle her nerves.

“Are you alright?” a concerned voice asked.

“Yeah. I’m good. How was Qrow?”

“He’s agreed to speak with you.”

“About time. Hey, before you go in there, you should probably take it a little easy on her.”

“Did you?”

“No, but we’re not friends anymore. All love lost between us.”

“…”

“See ya around.” Yang passed.

“…Yes. Around,” the other responded promptly before entering the patient room.

The woman strode to Weiss’s bed with a perfect, military gait.

“Weiss.”

In the wake of the visitor’s curt greeting, Weiss froze absolutely still. Her already pale complexion lost any color it had. The sight alone made her heart stop beating.

“I see your recovery is proceeding well,” the woman resumed. “Do you require anything? Water, medicine, I thought of bringing a get-well gift, but all I could think of was this.”

She produced Myrtenaster from her back and laid it across Weiss’s lap.

“Uh-buh-wuh!”

“…?” the woman tilted her head. “Have your injuries impaired your vocals?”

“WINTER?!” Weiss screamed.

There, standing before the Weiss, was her sister, Winter Schnee.

“Yes. I’ve recovered from being bedridden,” Winter’s harsh expression softened into a smile. “I understand I’ve been asleep for quite some time. You must have been worried, even if you shouldn’t have.”

“BUT—! HOW?!”

“How do you think?”

Weiss blinked repeatedly with tears in her eyes. Her emotions had taken repeated heavy blows in the last hour alone. It was enough to offset anyone’s reactions.

“Yang,” she muttered. “She…?”

“Yes. She played a significant part in my recovery. On that note,” Winter moved to her sister��s bedside with an *ahem*.

A direct chop delivered with the firm edge of her hand knocked the younger sibling on the head.

“OW!”

“You boob! What’s this I hear about you severing relations with your comrade, attempting to kill her, all for the sake of avenging my injuries?”

“BUT! But—She tried to kill you!”

“It was war, Weiss. She and I stepped onto the battlefield knowing our lives could be forfeit at any given moment, or that we would have to take it. Do not bring your personal feelings into an outcome that is empty of any singular person’s fault. If it was not Yang, it could have easily been any other. Such is the nature of war.”

“But…!” Weiss refused to listen. “I can’t forgive her. I just… can’t. Even if she did wake you from your coma. She tried to kill you knowing exactly what it meant.”

“Hm, this is true—” Winter nodded. “But also, untrue.”

“What do you mean?”

“I am saying Yang Xiao Long was in control of her actions, but as I’m familiar with, the Reaper’s Semblance does tend to skew one’s perceptions and behaviors.”

“Winter, what are you talking about?” Weiss asked slowly.

“And as I observed, I believe that was the first instance Yang utilized its true nature. A rampant bloodthirst, followed by a knee-jerk response to releasing such aggression of newfound power. It is simply the way events unfolded, I suppose.”

“Wait, I don’t understand!”

“I’ve bore witness to something similar in the past. Tragedy tends to haunt the Branwen line. Not to say Yang Xiao Long should be absolved of any guilt. We must all bear the full weight of our actions…” Winter flashed a deep sorrow at a thought. “But there is a pain there, a suffering that we will never understand. They are born thinking they are cursed—”

Winter rubbed her arm uncertainly.

“And sometimes, due to those around them—”

“They may actually start to believe it.”

X X X X X

“We’re cursed, aren’t we?”

“What? You just getting that now?” Qrow replied.

In a surprisingly luxurious cell made to confine preferentially treated prisoners, Yang and Qrow spoke at length. Rather than a cell, it resembled a reserve suite at a five-star hotel. Accommodations included a lavish bed and furniture, a shelf full of books to read from, and even a television set. There was also a rather large window, though, extremely reinforced and unopenable.

But the only thing Qrow cared for was—

“Kid, tell me you at least brought something to drink with you.”

“I did,” Yang replied shortly.

“So?”

“So, you need to listen to something that I have to say—sober.”

“Goddamn it, Yang,” Qrow grasped at his disheveled hair. “Do you know what withdrawal does to a person? You think I’m in a real state of mind to listen to anything?!”

“Maybe not… Or maybe I just wanted you to be a bit tender for it.”

“Taking sadist lessons from your new friend, I see.”

“This is actually the watered-down version of what I had in mind. You can thank Cinder for that.”

“…”

Yang could feel Qrow’s Reaper Semblance reliving a thousand scenarios, where she could die. There was no way to block it out, no way to lose himself elsewhere. And she thought, this was probably the most vulnerable she’s ever seen him.

“You’ve been lying to Ruby her whole life.”

“…”

“Doesn’t matter that she knew the truth. You pretended to be her Uncle and her teacher and took every chance to run off when you thought you were getting too close. I don’t even remember how many times, when things were going so nice for you guys, you suddenly had some ‘Huntsman’ business to take care of. But Ruby never blamed you. She did everything to grow into a daughter you could be proud of, while you were busy putting up your damn walls.”

“What I did was to protect her!”

“Just like how mom lied to you and all of us?”

Qrow was seething with rage. His usual control over his emotions was absent with his forced sobriety.

“I don’t care if it’s a low blow,” Yang crossed her arms. “Can you actually say your lies were for the better after learning Summer’s been alive this whole time? You need to set things straight with Ruby. She deserves it… And, I guess you do too, a little.”

“Ruby doesn’t need another father in her life. She has Tai.”

“People can have two dads, Qrow! Stop trying to look for a way out of this.”

“I guess thanks to you, I don’t.”

“…I’ve said what I wanted to say. If you want to keep playing the stubborn old man, then that’s that.”

“…” Qrow turned a stern stare towards her niece. “So, you’ve stopped me from synchronizing with Oz. Again.”

“Yeah,” Yang frowned. “After seeing what happened with Blake, I can’t help but think I made the right call.”

“You don’t understand. We need Oz.”

“No, it’s you, who doesn’t understand. Neither of you.”

Something in Yang’s demeanor pierced Qrow’s physical form. She spoke to her Uncle, but also to the one taking residency in his body.

“I don’t know what you’ve seen, and I don’t pretend like I do. But you’ve lost all faith in people.”

“…”

The red gleam in Yang’s irises burned with anger.

“I’ve seen what this secret war between two immortals is doing. You’ll never beat Salem, and it’s no longer up to you. It’s the responsibility of the people who live in the here and now to decide what happens to their world.”

Yang grabbed Qrow by the collar.

“You guys have played your game for the last time. We are gonna be the ones to end this.” Yang shoved a small flask into Qrow’s chest. “Ruby’s going to come around eventually. You better milk that flask for all its worth, ‘cause you won’t be getting any more.”

She let go and breathed a long exhale to cool her anger.

“I am close friends with the Queen after all. Comes with a few perks. One of them being, the ability to force a stubborn old man to talk to his daughter, at least once.”

“What do you plan to do next?”

Yang narrowed her brow. The verdant green of another shone within her Uncle’s soul.

“…I think you already know.”

As Yang was about to leave, she caught a silver flask thrown at her. When she turned around, Qrow was massaging the bags under his eyelids, looking for a book to keep him occupied. She had second thoughts about keeping alcohol away from him, but then banished the thought.

Yang left the facility, while gritting her teeth. Her hands dug into her pockets, while she made her moody, brisk walk across the courtyard. She wanted to find Neo as soon as possible. Her partner always set her at ease, or at least made the tough times more bearable.

...

“…I don’t know if I’m in the mood for this right now. And, shouldn’t you be resting?”

“I need to know.”

Yang thought about refusing, before motioning to a nearby bench. The two then, sat down under the chill, Atlesian blue sky. They could see the slight rippling of the Aegis System’s shield above. The sun shined through, like some beacon demanding truth in its plainest.

Yang hated it with something vitriol today.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Jaune asked after a time. “Why didn’t you tell us you were trying to revive Pyrrha?”

“…”

“The things I said.”

“You meant them. They were the truth, and nothing changes that. It’s fine. No hard feelings.”

“Yang… Tell me why.”

“You’re a big boy, Jaune. Plus, I’m sure you spent a lot of time thinking about the reason already. Unless Pyrrha distracted you that much.”

Jaune stared at her, but Yang only continued to look towards the sky, trying to get lost in the passing clouds. He drew a deep breath.

“You wanted to take the decision out of our hands,” he finally said.

“…”

“You knew, if you told us the truth, we would’ve had to fight Weiss. We would’ve had to help Cinder take over this Kingdom. A lot of people would have to…”

His voice trailed off at the sight of rising smoke. They came from the crashed airships on the outskirts. It was only a day since the battle between Atlas and the Alliance took place. Wounds were still fresh from the war’s visit to this nation. The sight still burned vividly into the memory of its citizens.

“You wanted to spare us the guilt.”

Yang remained silent, which all but confirmed Jaune’s suspicions.

“Yang, I don’t know how I can—I don’t know what I can do.”

“Why would you do anything?”

“…?”

“You’re super off, by the way. I didn’t tell you guys, ‘cause you wouldn’t have been any help. And there’s no way you would’ve fought Weiss, even for Pyrrha’s sake. You probably wouldn’t have believed Cinder in the first place.”

“Yang…” Jaune could only respond, in the face of the obvious lie. “I wish there was some way—"

“You really want to owe me one, Jaune?” Yang asked with a sting in her tone. “Don’t ever ask me about this ever again. Just be happy Pyrrha’s alive. Now, if we’re done, I got things to do.” She stood from the bench and began walking off.

As Jaune was about to go after her, the sound of breaking glass stopped him in his steps. Neo appeared from behind and held the point of her parasol underneath his chin.

“I’ll tell you the same thing I told Weiss. I don’t regret anything,” Yang said without turning around.

Neo let Jaune go before following after her partner.

…I just feel everything.

X X X X X

“…Are you sure we should be allocating so much of our resources in the shorter term, Ma’am? I understand the intent, but with this plan, Atlas runs the risk of experiencing a depression some ten years down the line.”

“To assure Atlas exists at the end of this year, drastic measures must be taken,” Cinder answered.

The Queen looked down the length of the table and saw no more opposition. She scanned the papers in front of her and swore she saw the letters jumble into a mess.

“That will be all for today, ladies and gentlemen. Any other matters will have to be tabled until tomorrow’s discussions.”

One of the members of the Board was about to object, when Trafalgar intervened.

“Her Majesty has only recently ascended to her position as sovereign of this nation. Before that, she took part in the defense of our home against the Alliance. I think it would do well not to tax her so heavily, so soon.”

“I am well-acclimated to working under less than ideal conditions, General,” Cinder responded.

“We know that very well, Ma’am. What I said was not meant to undermine you. It was to emphasize that you are still human, and the fact that you are this Kingdom’s leader, means it lives and dies with you. That said, it is my professional opinion that you take care of yourself, and that we, as your cabinet, make sure you do so.”

“…”

A smart one, this Trafalgar. He will prove extremely useful.

“Meeting adjourned,” Cinder called the conference to an end.

When the members of the cabinet filtered out of the room, with Trafalgar the last to leave, Cinder turned down the lights. She stared at the walled windows pensively, not to the outside, but at her own transparent reflection. Her greatest battle took place only yesterday, but there was only so little time to rest. As Raven taught her, the next battle was always waiting.

“Should you really be out and about so early from the hospital?” Cinder heard Trafalgar’s voice outside.

“I’m in fine health, General. I can’t rest easily, not when our Kingdom stands at such a crucial juncture,” a familiar voice replied.

“Hmmm. Though I may not be in a position to say this myself, it would do well for you two to take the time you need to recover and avoid overwork. Much rests on both your shoulders.”

“And what exactly would that imply?”

“Nothing, Miss Schnee. Only my hopes that the rumors of a second queen would be true.”

“That will be all, General.”

With the end of their conversation, Weiss entered the conference room.

“He’s a clever one, that Trafalgar,” Cinder commented.

“My teacher is well-versed in adapting to new situations and acting accordingly.”

“Do you think we should give him more responsibility, then?”

“’We’?”

“Yes, of course. Let us continue this charade of you possibly planning to refuse my offer.”

Weiss didn’t rise to Cinder’s bait but joined her in facing the window. The patient, who recently snuck out of the hospital, still had bandages showing just barely outside her dress. Compared to their talk only a few hours ago, the Winter Maiden was much more composed and steady.

It seems the student demonstrates the same adaptability as her teacher, Cinder thought.

“I wish to know your reasons before going any further,” Weiss told her. “You clearly could force me into a subordinate role, but instead offered me a position of equal power. I understand you made a deal with Yang, but does it really compel you such extents?”

“Would it ease you to be given a less integral role?” Cinder asked teasingly. Taking Weiss’s silence as her answer, Cinder continued. “No, I thought not. To answer your question, only as an equal would you be able to draw out the fullest measure of my potential. The same can be said vice versa, of course.”

“Your potential?”

“Indeed. Let me make one thing clear. While Yang may have suggested keeping you in a position of power under my rule—it was my own decision to make you Queen.” Cinder materialized a poor obsidian dagger and began sharpening it.

“…And why in the world would you ever think that would be a good idea?”

“Because I came to realize something after meeting Yang.” Cinder heated the dagger to more refinement. “Opposition hones one’s self, not only from her enemies, but also her allies. My growth would be nowhere near as extensive without the consulting perspectives of my confidants, especially in their disagreements.”

Cinder handed Weiss the glass blade, still glowing hot.

“I have no need of subordinates who simply bend to my will. I require equals with abilities and principles different from my own, to provide balance and completeness in vision. Ying and Yang. Black and White.”

Weiss took the hot knife and chilled it to a complete form. She peered into her own reflection in the weapon for a while.

“…I have a few conditions before accepting my position,” Weiss said.

“I figured as much. Name them.”

“I understand you’ve taken control of my family’s company during my absence. I want it returned. I also want you to relinquish your stranglehold on this Kingdom’s economy.”

“Easily done. You may keep your company. I’ve never possessed much of a business acumen, nor has money ever interested me. Such a false sense of wealth and power.” Cinder examined her nails in thought. “You may oversee the economy going forward, but I expect you to support me as director of all affairs military. The S.D.C. will no longer own the Atlesian Fleet in the shadows.”

“…Fine.”

“We have other matters to sort, but they can wait for another time. I take it you’ve accepted my offer?”

“Yes. I accept the terms,” Weiss spoke evenly.

“Very well, then. I look forward to working with you, White Queen.” Cinder extended her hand.

There was only a brief delay before Weiss shook it. The Winter Maiden turned the glass dagger in her other hand and handed it to the other.

The Black Queen turned the weapon in a similar manner.

“Hm. Well-balanced.”

X X X X X

Seeing Yang and Neo wrapped in each other’s arms, sleeping soundly in the living room of the Mantle Mansion—Cinder decided to leave the two to their own.

As she wandered the vast estate, she entertained the idea of visiting Emerald and Mercury, but quickly dismissed it. They needed their rest and, although she reached a new level of transparency with them, exposing her loneliness was out of the question.

Deciding that sleep was the best option, she entered a private sector of the house. It was a place that held special meaning. A room Raven once stayed in…

…

“Now, this is a pleasant surprise,” Cinder grinned.

“You really shouldn’t wander around by yourself without any guards.”

“I remember you saying something similar in the past.”

She walked over and sat on the bed, close to Raven. Her old mentor gave a weary sigh.

“Your guard is down.”

“I wasn’t aware it needed to be ready. Or are we playing that kind of game?”

“You always had a bad habit of playing with fire.”

“And you always liked playing with pretty, little sharp things. A taste your daughter seems to have acquired.”

Raven scoffed at that.

“Will you be staying the night or...”

“Business, Cinder.”

“Before pleasure?”

Raven took Cinder’s chin and locked her in her eyes.

“Take off your dress.”

“No foreplay?”

Raven turned her around and forcefully untied the dress from behind. There, she saw a large scorch mark with the remnants of what was once a tattoo.

“You burned it…” Raven said half-impressed and half in disbelief.

“I had an idea of what it was. It appeared after I took the Fall Maiden’s Inheritance. Care to enlighten me?”

“It was Salem’s mark. Proof you’ve used her Magic.” Raven turned her around in anger. “You were lucky. You didn’t know, but you would’ve been made Salem’s vessel if you didn’t make that guess. It was still stupid to rely on her in the first place.”

“If you were around, maybe it wouldn’t have come to that,” Cinder said with a slight hurt in her voice.

“How many times do I have to repeat myself before it sinks into your thick head? I did what was best for both of us. You will always live a better life without me!”

“And how many times have I told you that I want a life with you?!”

The two were about to exchange another string of angry words, when they realized they should be quieter.

“You never came to see me,” Cinder said softly.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“You didn’t come for me, when I was trapped in the Never Realm.”

“…”

“You didn’t come for me, after I was revived by your daughter.”

“…”

“You didn’t try to find me, when I returned to Atlas.”

“…”

“Only at my most powerful, when I need you least, do you show yourself.”

“……That’s right.”

Cinder’s Aura materialized into falling ash. Her anger and sorrow surged.

“Why, Raven? Why didn’t you come for me?!”

“I have no excuse.”

“You love me! SO, WHY?!”

“I don’t.”

“You’re lying!”

“You don’t know anything! YOU’RE NOTHING BUT A CHILD! I took advantage of you and made you dependent! I reciprocated something I shouldn’t have, and that was a mistake!”

“You can’t hide from what you truly feel.”

“There’s only one person I ever loved. And it wasn’t you.”

Seeing the pain cross Cinder’s expression caused Raven to get up and fall into the nearest chair. The older woman felt an unbearable guilt by the time the words left her lips. Emotions always ran high when Cinder was concerned—as well as a persistent headache. She said so many things she never meant. This girl Raven met as a child and raised into a young woman. On her personal long list of reasons to hate herself, this was one of the more prominent.

…

“…I tried to find you,” Raven admitted.

“I know.”

“I tried to kill the previous Spring Maiden myself.”

“I know.”

The older woman stared at her wide-eyed.

“You knew I tried to save you?!”

“I knew,” the Fall Maiden spoke with a bitterness. “I wanted to torture you a little. How does it feel to be on the other end?”

Raven scratched her head in frustration. When she was ready to yell more, Cinder pushed herself onto her lap.

“I can see it. You wish I loved another. You think you aren’t worth loving, because you’re cursed.”

“…”

“What a foolish sentiment.” Cinder weaved her hands through Raven’s hair, and then held her face in her palms. “Even if such a thing were true, I can’t change who I love…”

She planted a teary kiss on the other’s lips.

“I can’t ask you to return my feelings. But if you did feel the same way……Would it hurt you so much to show it?” Cinder pleaded.

“…It would.”

Raven picked her up, and then pressed Cinder into the bed.

“It would.”

#rwby #yang xiao long #weiss schnee #cinder fall #raven branwen #cinder x raven #ENMY

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laviestailleurs · 6 years

Text

Chapter 1: The beggining

I remember the orange sunset on my tanned skin, the warm breeze making the crops slow dance, the freshness of a sweet air filling my lungs. It was a calm afternoon, it was the beginning of an ending, and yet I was slowly walking through the crops, feeling them on the palm of my hand as if in few minutes my whole life wouldn't dramatically change forever.

I was at my sanctuary, the only place I felt at peace and myself, far away from the overprotectiveness of my mother. In between the crops I felt as if I could finally reveal my true self, far away from all the expectations of others, but especially from her. I knew I wasn't this person, but I didn't know who I was. My life felt off, as if the story was the wrong one, as if there had been a mistake. Deep down I always felt like I was meant to be someone else, someone with a bigger purpose. But here I was, feeling useless and lost, walking without a purpose, until I heard a sound.

My body froze, my hands became cold as ice, nobody could have been here with me. The sun had turned into this blood red color that was rapidly disappearing from the field. Everything inside of me was yelling at be to run as fast as I can. The crops started to move, I was hearing footsteps coming towards me. I started to run away from the path I should be getting home to, away from the footsteps coming to my way. I was running with all the force and breath I had, but somehow it wasn't enough, I was still being chased. The moment I glimpsed over my shoulder, I tripped over my long white silk dress and everything went dark.

When thinking about my life, it feels more like a blurry dream than a life. Maybe my awareness disappeared with my numbness I had about everything happening around me. Fighting became worthless the moment I understood it wasn't going to change anything. I was a pawn under the control of the ones with power, but mostly my mother, Demeter.

I love and admire her with all my heart, but our personalities and the way we see life and how to live it are so different that we can never get along. She's the most powerful women I know and I will always admire her for it, but after my dad and her separated, I felt as if she focused all her energy towards me, when all I ever wanted was to become this free spirited person I knew I was deep inside. A lot was expected of her, she needed to be viewed in a certain way that also affected me. I was a part of a world I didn't want to get involved in. The way I had to dress, the way I had to act, the things I shouldn't do nor say. At some point I was drowning in secrets I had to keep to myself. And I think I was cursed by the weight of secrets from an early age. My father, had never been around much, making appearances from time to time, Although I always had this powerful love for him. Everyone loved and also feared Zeus.

But my fears were different ones, a part of me always feared of being forgotten and not being loved by him. And with time, our fragile relationship grew further and further away. Both of my parents are complete opposites. The relationship I have with them is also very different. When I think about it, fate might have given me the challenge of dealing with opposites althrought my existence. But honestly, I'm exhausted from always being the one stuck in the middle, the one that always tries to figure out the truth when being thrown many different versions of reality. My energy is drained from trying to keep a feet on each world of both of my parents as equally as possible. And yet, this was only the begging of my fate. A fate that was neither a gift nor a curse.

My life's challenge of always being as diplomatic as possible by staying in the middle ground and by equally visiting very separate worlds was decided without my free will. This is the reason I believe we have no say when it comes to our fate. Which was clearly designed for us to pass a challenge in which all the circumstances of our lives will allure us to the completeness of this main lesson. My life's lesson that I had no choice over was to learn to deal with polar opposites of every circumstance. To learn how to deal with two very different worlds. And I had no other choice but to accept this fate.

I opened my eyes to a stabbing pain inside my head. The air was humid and cold. My whole body was shivering from the mixture of shock and cold. The room was like a cave because of the texture of walls. I gathered all my force in order to stand up but was brutally stabbed to the ground by chains over my waist which were attached to the walk behind me. My breaths grew stronger and faster which were making the chains hurt me more. I wasn't aware this much fear and panic was even possible to feel and I was even less sure if my heart would continue beating after all this panic rushing through me. I finally managed to shout for help, wishing someone could come and release me from this hell.

The door opened brutally:

"I was wondering when you would wake up." appeared a dark deep voice through the shadows.

"Who are you? Where am I? " I was surprised by how calm and determined my voice was coming out of my mouth.

"I'm Hades and you are in the underworld." said very stoically

I knew exactly who he was and apparently my family life was even more complicated than I thought it was. I've heard of Hades before, one of my father's brothers, but I have never met him until now.

How strange is it all of the masks we put in order to hide all the emotions happening inside of us. Showing any kind of emotion is always linked to being weak. But maybe not being able to show emotion is the real weakness. Maybe hiding behind a pretend mask is the real weakness. But at this point, I didn't have any other choice but to pretend, I had to pretend to be strong until I eventually did become one.

"Why am I here?" I continued

"You tripped and fell at the field of crops. I took you to my world. A change of scenery never hurts anyone."

"But chains do hurt. Unchain me! I want to leave now!"

"Fearless I like it." lightly smiled then continued:

"A please would be nice. I suggest you try it again but nicely next time." Hades then swiftly left the room shutting the door behind him.

I was once again left alone with millions of burning questions inside my head.

The moment I realized I was taken captive by Hades, my anxiety did calm down a little. At least I knew where I was and I was also sure people were going to look for me. I knew my mother was going to tear the world apart until she found me. But until then, I was all by myself. The best chance I had was to play along with Hades and to buy myself some time. Once I became calmer, I looked at the chains around my waist, after carefully examining them, I realized the chains were not locked to the wall. And I easily managed to unchain myself with my hands. Why did he purposely forget to lock the chains? Was the door really locked? I began to walk towards the door and hopelessly tried to turn the knob. The door did open, But I couldn't help myself from wondering: Was he watching me? What was his plan?

Adrenaline rushed once again through my whole body. This room somehow seemed safer than the unknown underworld out there. I also knew I couldn't escape from the underworld so easily. Trying seemed worthless. I wish I had a bit of courage in me, but I didn't. I closed the door without fully opening it and went back to where I was sitting before.

The truth is, I always overthinking every circumstance of any action before doing it. This makes it impossible to go through with anything. One simple action had the possibly of causing so many outcomes, and in this case, all the outcomes did end up pretty badly.

After a while, Hades did show up again. But this time he was accompanied by a hound that was scarier than him. After carefully observing, he began to speak "Don't you want to come out? You are missing out on a whole other world." said amusingly

"I want you to take me back. I don't belong here."

"How can you know where you belong without even experiencing it first? You should give it a chance. You might be surprised."

"Is he going to hurt me?" I said looking at the hound.

"Maybe the question should be, am I going to hurt you?"

"You would have hurt me by now if you wanted to."

"Touché." smiled Hades

"Why am I really here?"

He examined me once more. I wasn't sure if he was thinking of an answer or if he was trying to read me. Keeping a courageous act was draining all the energy out of me. And I didn't know how long I could keep up with him.

"Come with me" finally said Hades opening the door for me to follow him.

Here I was stepping into unknown grounds. A world I never thought I would see. I was mesmerized by how every inch of this place was decorated with silvers and golds while precious stones were keeping them company. The most dominant color was shades of purple and blue. I couldn't help myself from not showing how surprised I was in front of this view.

"The purple you see is created from a stone called amethyst. I find something mysteriously attractive about this stone. The color of purple symbolizes a very powerful energy. However every shade of blue you see is caused by stones such as apatites, azurites and diamonds."

"Why is there so many of them?"

"We are under the world Persephone...It's where stones and minerals are."

"Where is all the fire and torture happening then?" I asked

"Above ground." replied Hades with his famous smile.

Maybe this was the reason why he rarely visited my world. Not because he wasn't allowed, but because he didn't want to. The job of gods and goddess above earth is to assure everything works smoothy so that the living can continue to exist. But humans never get satisfied by anything. Humans always want more, when they do finally get something they want, the pleasure disappears in few days and the never ending cycle of always wanting something they don't have continues. Dooming the human kind for a lifetime of suffering.

Above ground, I've seen countless wars, deaths, and never ending sufferings. And the worst part is everything happens for no evident reason nor a good cause. The reason behind all kinds of quarrels is caused by human greed. And greed is a sickness that cannot be healed.

I did see love and kindness above ground but they always ended with some kind of jealousy or disappointment. Hearts getting broken because of loving too much or not enough. Humans don't know the definition of balance, everything is either too much or not enough. They do not know how to stay in the middle ground and this human condition has no remedy. Secretly, I always preferred any other living species than the human kind. Plants, animals and even bacterias were better than humans. Maybe the world would have been a much better place with only plants and animals living on it.

"Are you going to take me back?" I asked

"I'm sensing you are in desperate need to take a vacation. You are too tense for your young age. And I am feeling very generous today. Stay here, be my guest, you can do whatever you want here. You are free as long as you don't leave."

Nothing was making sense but I was curious, so I proceeded: "What is there to do in here anyway?"

"I don't know, try walking on sunshine."

"But there is no Sun."

"Right, we obviously don't have the same definition of Sun. Just pretend that the lava is the sun. I'm sure you'll enjoy it in any case."

"Are you being serious right now?"

"You will have to discover this by yourself." replied Hades, and he continued giving me the tour of the underworld without leaving me the chance to ask any further questions.

#book #myth #mythology #hades #persephone #fiction #greek #writing

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