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oddsconvert · 23 days

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Shattered #10 - Happy Birthday, August! Part II

Previous / Masterlist

CW: kidnapped whumpee, captivity (kinda), defiant whumpee, whumpee thinks caretaker is a whumper, forced to kidnap references, vampire caretaker, unwilling whumper, forced to be whumper, ALOT of self-loathing and fucky thoughts and guilt and all of it, weapons, adult language, mentions of blood, brief mention of vomit/nausea, reference to toxic/abusive family dynamic (if I've missed any, please let me know! <3)

Part two! A long time coming! The final part should drop in the next few days/this week! :D thank you to the amazing @whumpcereal for her AMAZING beta on this 🥺🫶

---

August has always dreamt of cake on his birthday, the warm scent of sugar and butter taunting his vampiric senses like forbidden fruit. The cake would be chocolate, of course. Every human loves chocolate; it must be the tastiest thing on Earth. This year, there would have been one hundred and thirty candles, barely fitting on top of it. And August could blow them all out and make his birthday wish. Just like the humans do.

But if the flickering flames on his imaginary cake could really grant his wishes, he wouldn’t wish for chocolate. With a single puff of breath, he’d wish to rewind time and erase this horrific day out of existence. Or, perhaps, he’d wish for a clean slate - a life free from the regret that eats him alive. But above all, he would wish to finally be happy - whatever that means. But where does August get the gall to wish for his own happiness when he is the catalyst of another’s misery?

He stole a human being tonight. He crept through the streets, snatched them from where they slept and locked them away. He’d lurked in the shadows and all, like a true monster. As far as the human is aware, they saw the stars for the last time this eve and they’ll never feel fresh air stream through their lungs again. August could see it the moment their eyes first locked - the human feared the blood coursing through his own veins was his no longer, that he had become nothing more than food.

No, if August had birthday candles, he should be wishing for the human’s pain to stop, not his own. He should pray for any memories of this miserable night to fade away, and for the human to feel nothing but warmth and safety for the rest of his days. How dare August make this about himself?

How dare August call himself a doctor?

Really, if August is anything other than a feral creature, he is a coward. He can’t find a drop of courage in his selfish core to face the human. Of course not. That would mean facing up to what he has done to the human.

Instead, August kneels in the bathroom, and he hugs the toilet bowl tight in his arms. He sputters and heaves as spit dribbles from his lips. It’s a battle against wave after wave of never-ending nausea. August is sickened by himself. Repulsed by the cruelty that he and his kind are capable of. Even if he earned his family’s stamp of approval tonight - something he’s always dreamed of and strived for - it wasn’t worth it. Not one bit. He refuses to hurt, abuse and sacrifice an innocent life for a scrap of their regard. Curse their prideful smiles and damn their hollow praise.

CRASH! Shattering glass pierces through the silence in-between retches. August’s heart leaps up into his throat, and his gut clenches.

His human is awake - no! August shakes that insidious thought from his head. Not his, and never his. The human does not belong to him.

August wills the ground to open up and swallow him whole. The thought of skulking down to that basement with his tail between his legs and shame swelling in his chest - it turns his already churning stomach with bubbles of dread. Still, he must. He peels himself from the bathroom floor, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and makes his way downstairs to greet his guest. There’s not a second spare to wallow and drown in self-pity.

He grips the stair bannister for dear life, his knees threatening to buckle beneath him. Still, he forces his dragging feet to move one step at a time down to the basement. There’s no backing out of this, no turning and running now. August needs to face the music–or face his victim, rather. He must fix what he’s done to this poor human.

There is the sound of a jarring crash, and then another dull thud resonates from behind the locked basement door. August’s shaking hands fumble to fit the key in the lock. With a click, the door opens, and he cautiously descends into the dimly lit basement, every footstep echoing in the sudden, eerie silence.

That is until he hears the human’s heart. It pounds like a war-drum in August’s ears, each beat louder and more erratic. August flicks the light switch, and as the basement floods with light, he freezes on the spot, beyond horrified at the scene before him.

His life's work, decades of dedication, lay in ruins. His surgery looks like the aftermath of an explosion. All the furniture is flipped over, and shards of shattered glass sparkle across the floor like jewels amongst the blitz. Charts and graphs once meticulously hung on the wall now dangle in tatters, their scientific data reduced to meaningless scraps. His medicinal cabinets have been ransacked; trails of viscous liquid snake across the concrete floor from countless broken vials. The air is thick with the acrid smell of chemicals.

And there, behind his masterpiece of destruction, cowers the human, pressed flat against the farthest wall, a scalpel gripped in trembling hands held out before him. Its sharp tip is pointed in August’s direction, glistening against the surgery's harsh strip lights.

August has seen fear in human eyes more times than he can possibly count, but he has never seen fear like this. The human’s eyes burn with such primal terror that they touch the very core of August’s being. In the man’s eyes, August sees his own fear, his own isolation and his own despair. But August stays there, unable to look away no matter how it hurts him. He is trapped in this man’s stare, lost in a labyrinth of his own reflections.

But August feels something else too. A raw and untamed emotion. Rage. All-consuming anger that makes goosebumps prickle down the vampire’s pale skin. Rage courses through the human’s veins like a river of molten lava.

“You stay the hell back!” the human roars until his voice wavers and wobbles. He swings the scalpel into the empty space between them, stabbing at the air. “Don’t you dare come near me!”

August’s hands fly up in surrender. Words escape him. What could he possibly say to make this right? Where does he even start? Surely nothing he could say could do justice to his regret.

“I’m sorry-”

That’s the first thing that blurts out of August’s pathetic mouth. Because it is the only and the most sincere thought that comes to him. As though his apology could ever mend the damage or heal the pain he’s caused tonight.

August is shaking now. He can’t stop. His palm slams against his mouth as he chokes back a guilt-warbled cry. “I’m - so…I’m SO sorry. I - I don’t - I…I -I never. I didn’t want to hurt you. I - I won’t hurt you! I don’t want this. Please - y-you have to believe me. You’re safe here-”

August moves without thinking, over the rubble and glass shards. He moves barely an inch closer, and the human erupts into panic. Like a great cat, the human swiftly pounces and flips the table in front of him to form a barricade, stopping August dead in his tracks. Surgical instruments clatter about, and yet more glass scatters across the cement floor.

“I SAID STAY BACK!” the human brays like a feral animal. His chest heaves dramatically as his lungs seem to fight for breath, and he takes an unsteady step back to create even more distance between them. Gingerly, he cradles his hand, still clutching the scalpel. A gasp escapes his lips as crimson wells from a sudden gash. The tang of iron hits August’s nostrils, drool coats his tongue and his fangs tingle, ready to feed. He wrestles with his animalistic instincts and pushes back the unwanted and primal hunger that threatens to take over. He knows he doesn’t want it, but his body thinks he needs it.

The human had hurt himself in his own destructive frenzy. August can’t help but feel responsible for that too. But that doesn’t seem to deter the human, in fact, it fuels him. He launches himself at the countertops. In one fluid motion, sweeping his arms across the surfaces, clearing it of every single object in a deafening cascade that shatters across the floor.

“HUMAN! PLEASE STOP!”

The human doesn’t speak, but a slow, cold anger radiates off him. Brows slam together, his jaw clenches until the muscles stand out starkly. A single word, each syllable dripping with disdain, finally leaves his lips: "'Human'?"

August immediately realises his mistake. Guilt eats him from the inside out. You utter barbarian; he scolds himself.

“I have a name, you know!” The human snaps incredulously, bloody hands curling into fists.

“Of course, of course! Just…” August breathes, “What is your name?”

“Why the fuck would I tell you?!”

The bookshelves are the human’s next victim. He doesn’t bother pulling or ripping at them; he just bulldozes them with a barge of his shoulder. The shelves topple with a cacophony of splintering wood and flapping pages. His gaze is already fixed on his next target: a framed diploma hanging on the wall, defying the human’s rampage.

“Wait, no! P-Please, not that!” August begs, hands clasped together in supplication. The diploma represents his proudest achievement, everything that he’s worked so hard for. It is the only proof August has that there may be good in him somewhere. “Please! Don’t destroy anything else! I just need you to hear me out!”

“Open the door and let me walk out, vamp,” the human scowls, glossing over August’s pleas. “Or do I have to go through you?”

August swallows hard, the human’s casual threat sending a fresh wave of terror through him. He doesn’t doubt the human’s raw strength or willpower for even a second. The destroyed furniture and the fiery defiance in his eyes promise more violence. A heavy silence stretches between them, thick with tension.

“I - I want to help you - please just let me explain all of this-”

The human slams his fist into the nearest wall, a crater of dust left in its wake. August flinches into himself. Then, the man lets out a sound that no soul should ever have to hear. It’s a keening cry - a grieving wail for the life he fears he has lost. It rocks August to his core. It’s bloodcurdling.

“Why’d you choose me, huh?!” The human seethes, damn near foaming at the mouth. “Is it because I sleep rough on the streets? Is that it? Because my life is so fucking expendable?!”

Then, it’s as if a dam has burst. The human’s face just crumples as a choked sob croaks from his lips, barely even audible. Slowly, he slides down against the wall. Head in hands, shoulders slumped, any bravado completely drained from his posture.

“You knew no-one would come for me… didn’t you?” The human manages a whisper, his head hung low in defeat. Words just seem to keep failing August time and time again, he can only watch miserably and quietly.

“DIDN’T YOU?!” the human bellows, eyes bloodshot and wild as his head shoots up. August flinches at the outburst.

“What gives you the right to play god?! What makes my life worth any less than yours, or any other person you could have plucked from the damn street. It was a shitty life. But it was my life! There was nothing left to take from me, and you took it all anyway. You’re a… you’re a parasite.”

August bites his lips and nods, a silent, pathetic apology. He is a parasite. Every word burns like a red-hot fire poker but he knows he deserves every scorch. Scarlet-shame colours his cheeks. Monster, parasite, animal - he’s all of the above.

“I won’t stop fighting you,” the human huffs through tears of fury. “I won't stop until I kill you, even if it kills me. You're right. I have nothing, and no-one. Nothing to lose but everything to gain. So if I’m going to go down, I'm going down swinging. Do your worst…leech.”

Leech.

August has always thought of himself as a healer. A protector. It is here, in this moment, he finally realises he is nothing more than the predator he was born to be. Afterall, there is no denying what he has done. He did take the human, he took away everything the human had to take. He, too, sinks to the floor in devastation, landing heavily in a cross-legged slump opposite the tear-streaked human.

Worst birthday ever.

August is drained and depleted, but he won’t waste any more breath on defending himself; he isn’t worthy of any defence. But the very least he can do is comfort the human - help him to weather the storm and be the anchor he needs right now.

“You can keep the scalpel,” August sniffles, “if it gives you some comfort. If it helps you to feel safe.” It’s an impotent gesture. A scalpel would be useless against him in combat if it really did come to that, but hopefully the human can see the sentiment behind the offer. “All I ask is for a minute of your time, and I promise, I will explain everything to you.”

The human stares at the scalpel in his hand and then locks eyes with August’s in a silent duel. No accusation, no defiance this time - only a deep well of desperate inquiry burning in their depths. A million silent questions hang in the air. He begrudgingly nods for August to go on.

“I will take you home tomorrow morning. I swear it. I wish I could open the front door for you and let you stroll free and wave you off into the world, but we’re deep in vampire territory right now. You wouldn’t last five minutes out here on your own. You’ll be snatched back up in a heartbeat, and by a creature less...inviting than myself. We will go after sunrise tomorrow and not a minute later, you have my word.”

“Your word,” the human spits, “Your word means jack all to me.”

“Then let me prove that I am who I say I am - a man of my word. Let me show you to a bed for tonight. Let me give you food and water, and a pillow to rest your head. And then I will leave you be, to get all the sleep you want and need, and I will keep to myself. The next time you see me, it will be to make our journey back to human territory.”

“...Why should I trust you?”

“I’m not asking for your trust.” Heaven knows August doesn’t deserve it, could never earn it. “I’m asking, from the bottom of my heart, for your leniency. You could, and probably should, drive a stake through my chest for what I’ve put you through. I cannot say I would blame you, if you did. But…why don’t we both survive the night, and come tomorrow we go our separate ways?”

Relief floods in as the human seems to reluctantly ponder the deal. It’s just a night. They just need to make it through the night, and then they can both go back to their separate lives and try to forget each other's faces. The human must realise that too, because his boiling anger seems to simmer down. August rises to his feet and slowly moves across the room to extend a helping hand. The human only grunts his curt refusal and snubs the offer, forcing himself up off the cold and unforgiving ground.

“Spare bedroom. First floor. It’s all yours for the night. I’ll show you to it.” August nervously beckons the human over as he heads towards the basement door. The man sluggishly follows behind, keeping a distance that feels like miles. August feels distrustful eyes burning into the back of his head. He half expects to feel the scalpel pierce his spine any second.

But it doesn’t. As August leads the way upstairs, their unified steps echo strangely in the emptiness of the house. With each turn, the sheer scale of this place, his home, hits August anew. In the company of this poor stranger he’s pulled from the grime of the street, the house feels absurdly oversized. Every step reveals yet another opulent space – a bathroom, a bedroom, a study, a library, another bathroom. August marches him through this excessive display of wealth with a sinking heart. Does he truly need all this, especially when the man trailing behind him apparently doesn’t have a penny to his name or a roof over his head?

August pauses before what is now the third bedroom door they’ve come across, this one already ajar. Inside, the air is stuffy and still, as though the room hasn’t been disturbed in decades, and it hasn’t; it is untouched and unslept in. A sliver of moonlight creeps through the drawn curtains and slices across the four-poster bed.

“This is yours,” he motions the human through the doorway, “for the night-” he quickly repeats. He chooses every word with due care and diligence, to reaffirm that this situation is by no means permanent.

Hesitantly, the human steps inside. His eyes flit across the ornately carved furniture and over thick layers of dust. August takes his moment to disappear down the hallway, returning minutes later with a tray holding a jug of water, a glass and a bowl of steaming chicken soup - he was lucky to find the tin of it at the very back of his cupboard. A strained smile tugs at August’s lips as he sets it down on the nightstand.

Again, the human recoils from him, pressing himself into the corner of the room.

“I’ll go now, okay? I-I hope you can get a good night's sleep. If you need me, for anything, my bedroom is on the very end of the hall, on the left”.

“I won’t need you,” the human scoffs. “Go. Leave.”

The rebuff curdles August’s smile, his lips twitch nervously. “As you wish…” he mutters, stalking towards the door with defeat. Hand on the doorknob, he pauses, “My name is August, by the way. Could I please at least know your name, too?”

Rooted to the spot, the human squares his broad shoulders, a challenge radiating from his posture. “Names are sacred, leech,” he declares, teeth gritting together. “I plan to keep that secret for as long as I can keep my mind.”

The human’s words strike August like a physical blow. The air whooshes from his lungs, deflating him like a pricked balloon. Regret, sharp and bitter, settles in his chest. He can’t stay a second longer, not with the humiliating spark of unshed tears threatening to spill. His family is right, he’s a weak and pathetic excuse for a vampire. With a twist of the doorknob, he flees down the hall to his bedroom. He collapses onto his bed and buries his face in the pillow.

—

For the human, however, sleep will be a stranger tonight. Any last vestige of drowsiness flees as the vampire vanishes. Sleep just isn’t in the cards. He has to hold out until dawn. He scrambles for anything he can get his hands on to barricade the door. It’s his first line of defence overnight;it will give him a fighting chance and an advantage over the creature.

The heavy dresser groans in protest as he drags it across the room to block the door, scratching and scraping the floorboards along its path. He doesn’t think twice about the damage, if the vamp gets to destroy his life, then he gets to destroy it’s property. Then the rickety chair and the desk it sits at gets pushed into the barricade. And the bedside tables, the bookcase too. Finally, his gaze falls on the bed and its sturdy oak bedposts. He pulls his scalpel from his pocket and digs his scalpel into the wood, feverishly wedging a chunk out of it with all the strength he has left. Shavings rain down as he whittles it down to a sharpened point. Slapdash, but a stake nonetheless.

Every creek of the settling house, every rustle in the wind sets the human’s teeth on edge. He crawls into the bed and slips under the blankets. He’s pleasantly surprised at how soft they are, and how the mattress feels like he’s floating on a cloud and how warmth seems to instantly envelop his fatigued body. He’s not felt this much comfort in…in, well, years.

But he can’t afford to let his weary eyes slip shut. He stays watching the door like a hawk from his bed, his staked clutched close to his beating chest.

Morning can’t come quick enough.

*!*!*!*!*

Dawn finds the human bleary-eyed but alert. His crafted weapon is still clutched tightly in his palms as he half-stares and blinks drearily at the barricaded door, as ready and poised to attack as he can be. Moonlight has dwindled and now sunlight beams through the velvet curtains instead. He leaps up, rips the curtains open and basks in the sun’s kiss. It’s something he thought he’d never feel again,

He survived the night. It’s nothing short of a miracle. A silent thank you rises in his throat as a single tear slips from his eye. Someone, he thinks, has to be watching over him. His parents, he hopes. There’s no way he would have made it through this without them.

Now the vampire just has to hold true to his promise. If his word holds any weight, the human will be back in human territory before dusk. Yet, the whole situation defies any logic. The human can’t wrap his head around the absurdity of it all. Why would a vampire snatch him, just to return him by nightfall, less than twenty four hours later? He can’t fight the feeling that a deeper motive lurks beneath the surface, a sinister plan at play. Suspicion clings to the human like cobwebs. Beyond the hospitality and kindness… the vampire has to be up to something.

The human dismantles his barricade and heads out to go downstairs. Every fibre of his being screams ‘it’s a trap!’...but the human can’t deny the smallest sliver of hope in his chest, piercing his bubble of suspicion. The vampire had kept true to its word so far, it had left him alone and untouched, fed and watered, a bed to sleep in. It hasn’t laid a hand on him nor tried to feed. In fact, it had kept far away. Maybe the vampire deserves the benefit of the doubt. Maybe, there isn’t anything more to this than meets the eye, and there are no strings attached?

But hope is a dangerous thing, tempting him to lower his guard and leave himself vulnerable for thirsty fangs to sink into. No, he thinks grimly, tightening his grip on the makeshift stake. He will not trust, cautious acceptance will have to do. He’s ready to fight with all he’s got when it all heads south.

He reaches the landing and sneakily peeks over the railing. The vampire stands by the front door, guarding it like a troll bridge. To stop the human from escaping? The vampire meticulously folds up his sleek, black umbrella and places it back in his stand. He looks so tall, impossibly tall, even from the human’s vantage point. The vampire is dressed in a three-piece suit and leather dress shoes that seems more suited to an office boardroom than house wear.

As the human strains for a better look, a sudden creak of the floor makes the vampire snap his head up. Chilling red eyes lock with the human’s in a way that sends a jolt of pure terror down the man’s spine. Would he be punished for this? Would the vampire strip him of his free will and send him marching down to the basement for punishment? He’s heard they can do that–and worse. All the fear sparks anew. He can’t catch his breath - he’s panicking.

But the vampire's eyes aren’t actually filled with the predatory and furious glint he expected. Instead, a swirl of emotions flickers within them - concern, sorrow, even…anxiety? It’s a disarming sight. This creature looks nearly as worried as Lucas feels…

—

"There's been a change in plans,” August laments.

August could literally hear the human’s heart drop in his chest, like a lead weight falling into a deep well. The human’s eyes are wide with despair, and his mouth drops open as though he’s been struck across the cheek. A wave of guilt crashes over August, and he isn’t oblivious to how this looks. It looks like the betrayal and deceit the human has anticipated since he first set eyes on August. August is well aware he just crushed the man’s hopes to dust, and confirmed every doubt and fear. But it’s out of his hands. Mother nature is a cruel mistress.

“No-” the human rasps, nearly falling down the stairs as his legs give out on him. “No, vamp. You said you’d take me home. You said today. You promised-”

“That’s not the element that’s changed. My promises are sworn and imperishable. There is, however, a delay.”

"A ‘delay’…” The human repeats incredulously, a hint of sarcasm to his tone. His suspicion eats away at him, misplaced though it is. August is many things - a liar, he is not. But there’s no way the human could know that. Not yet, anyway. The human takes a cautious step back from August, staring him up and down with disdain.

"A storm is raging outside. The streets are thick with snow and ice, and the skies are dark with thundering clouds. It’s too dangerous to make the drive.”

“I don’t care,” the human snidely retorts. “I’ll walk it if I have to. Just open the door for me, and I’ll be on my merry way. I’ll be out of your hair and you can have your big, lonely mansion all to yourself again.”

Yes, his lonely mansion. All to himself. The words sting more than August cares to admit. He winces like a knife is twisting in his belly. When the human goes home, he will be all alone again. It was nice…is nice…the company. Talking to someone that’s not a suffering patient or his own reflection in the mirror. He already feels the emptiness settling over him once again. He longs for companionship, for someone to share his home with. He sighs, knowing that he'll have to wait a bit longer for his wish to come true. He can’t keep the human here–at least not indefinitely. But he will have to make the human understand that tonight is non-negotiable.

“You can’t-” August shakes his head. The man would never make it home. Not with the minus temperatures and the blankets of snow.

“I can. I am. Move,” the human growls, his hands balled into fists. Only then does August notice the crude stake in the human’s white-kncukled hand. No, this human will never be his friend, but even still, August has a duty to him.

The human storms towards the door and tries to push it open. It doesn’t budge. He barges his shoulder into the door, desperately ramming it. Still it doesn’t give. Soon, he’s kicking and shoving and a warbled cry rockets up his throat. Despite his frantic assault, the door only cracks open slightly.

“Snow,” August chimes in, pointing to the falling white powder crumbling through the gap in the door. “We’re snowed in. Must be at least twelve inches of it, I would think.”

“No. This can’t be happening. We-We climb out the bedroom window!” The human’s eyes light up at the idea, sprinting towards the staircase in a panic.

“And then what will you do? Trek all the way back to human territory in this snowstorm? Do you know how far out we are?”

In the blink of an eye, the human tumbles to the floor in a heap, screaming into his hands, pulling at his hair. The blizzard howls like a banshee outside, a gust of snow blows in from outside. The human knows he’s stuck here. He’s trapped here, with a bloodsucker. He’s going to die. Or at least that’s what he must believe.

“I can’t stay here. With you. I won’t do it.”

“Please,” August says. He resists the urge to move closer; there’s no point in riling the human any more than he’s already riled himself up. “My word is my bond. I won’t harm you. But I can’t in good conscience return you to where I found you. I’m a physician. I can’t put anyone in harm’s way. To sleep rough on a night like tonight–it would be a death sentence.”

The human laughs coldly. “Was this your plan all along? Crush my spirits? Delude me into thinking it’s my choice to stay?”

“I don’t control the weather,” August sighs. “This doesn’t change a thing. I will still take you home as soon as the roads are clear.”

The human remains silent, his jaw clenched. With a final, hate-filled glare, he storms towards the stairs, and, like a sulking teenager, stomps upward in a whirlwind of fury. The slam of his bedroom door reverberates throughout the house.

But the human is still here. He is still safe. August hasn’t failed entirely.

An exhausted breath escapes August’s lips. He isn’t used to this, the vulnerability of sharing his haven and bearing the weight of responsibility for another life. A knot of unease tightens in his gut. These forced close quarters may at least offer him a chance to ease the human’s fear and earn a crumb of forgiveness, but August can’t help but wonder – will they be able to bridge the chasm between predator and prey?

This is going to be a long couple of days…

---

@octopus-reactivated @whatwasmyprevioususername @ramadiiiisme @darkthingshappen @whumpsday @thecyrulik @t0rture-me @redwhump @the-cryptid-finch @snowstuffscuff @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @wolfeyedwitch @interdimensional-chaos @termsnconditions-apply @whump-blog @leyswhumpdump @not-a-space-alien @onlybadendings @darlingwhump @sparrowsage @flynnswhumpprompts @whumpcereal @wolves-and-winters @ashh-ed @idkmansomeusername @whuarri @33-sdtr-45 @pigeonwhumps @canislycaon24 @the-whumpers-grimm @damienxozmoze @predacon-skydrift @morning-star-whump @neverthelass @espresso-depresso-system @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @androgynousqueenie @yetanotheraltwhumpblog @kadeee00 @that-one-small-world @doodlepoodle154 @sodacreampuff @cupcakes-and-pain @topsheepstudent @mylovelyme @anonfromcanada @astrokea @turn-the-tables-on-them

#shattered #lucas slater oc #august crinamorte oc #vampire caretaker #bloodbag whumpee #defiant whumpee #whump #whump writing #whump community #whumpblr #whump blog #whumpee #captivity #blood mention #vomit mention #whumper #forced to be whumper

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coffeeandsadbooks · 1 month

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So the scenes of Erik at Hillerska don't make sense to me anymore.

Before S3, he was perceived by a half of the fandom as a Protective Older Brother, and for a good reason. Erik really tried to help Wilhelm, even though he himself didn't have the right answers for the questions Wilhelm was asking.

Back to S1E1. Why did Erik look so happy? Didn't he realize that his little brother was about to go through Forest Ridge initiation? Did he know that Forest Ridge boys excluded SA from the ritual? Or did he consider that experience necessary for Wille? Or was he sure that the students wouldn't do to Wille the same thing Erik did to them? If so, why? August was SAed, and he was a member of the royal family. Why didn't this perspective bother Erik at all?

Considering that it all would be extremely easy to resolve with one short scene, why didn't the creators do it? Erik could simply find a moment to have one-on-one talk with August to tell him "Don't do anything to Wille" or some version of this phrase. It would have let the audience know that something dark was happening in Hillerska and then The Erik Revelation wouldn't come as a complete shock.

Foreshadowing is an essential part of good storytelling. Things just can't come out of nowhere. Was it simply a case of bad writing? Or The Erik Revelation wasn't invented until S2 was shot, that's why there are no clues for it?

#young royals #yr s3 #yr s3 spoilers #tw: mentions of SA #wilhelm #prince wilhelm #erik #crown prince erik #august #lisa ambjörn

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lainiespicewrites · 16 days

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Dreamless sleep

I mentioned in a reblog a few days ago that I sometimes write little oneshots about Henry to comfort myself when shit situations happen. Well I left work today and my car wouldn't start and... I've been struggling with remembering something really difficult that happened to me and I needed a comfort fic. This is that.... I don't normally post them but I wanted to share this one.

Warnings: Mentions of SA possible trigger.

summary: waking up from a nightmare and having a rough day. Henry is always there to help.

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I watched the door shake. The man on the other side determined to break in. If he got through, he was going to hurt me again. Not that he would ever admit it. My attacker had spent just moments before trying to convince me I had asked for it. Like what he did to me was nothing more than him fulfilling my desires. Bile rose in the back of my throat from the thought.

“Go away, Luke! I told you I won’t say anything to anyone! Just leave me alone!” But he didn’t stop. I watched the door knob turn as I looked around my childhood bedroom searching for something to barricade the door. Trying to find anything to keep him out. My strength would not hold much longer. One more shove and he would be inside. I wouldn’t be able to escape him. Just like the last time. As I’m reaching for a chair to press against the door, I stumble. I fall to the floor and the door swings open…

I woke with a start shooting straight up gasping for breath. My heart was racing and I let out a whimper as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. I flinched as I felt a gentle hand touch my hip.

“Darling it’s me, it’s okay.” Henry’s soothing voice broke through my panic. It was a dream. Only, a dream. I swallowed hard and looked out the window. It was storming, the sky was still gray, I looked over at the clock 6:25 my alarm was about to go off,

“Sorry, go back to sleep baby, it was just a bad dream. I’m okay.” I assured him. Henry sat up. He wrapped his arms around me from behind and placed a soft kiss on my head.

“You’re sure? He asked, “Do you want to talk about it?” I shook my head. I hadn’t told him about what happened to me. And as far as I was concerned he didn’t need to know. It was in the past. I was fine. It was rare that I had these dreams.

“No bear, It was silly, just go back to sleep, I need to get up and get ready,” I told him. He took in a deep breath. He still held me close for a moment before hesitantly letting go of my waist.

“Alright, love,” When I got out of bed I turned and kissed him softly. He looked so tired. He’d gotten back so late from set. I hate that I’d woken him up.

“I’ll see you later,” I smiled. He sat up giving me another kiss.

“Have a good day baby,” He said. I slipped out of my bedroom and took a quick shower. I quickly got dressed for the office and left. I picked up a coffee on the way to work. I splashed some on my shirt leaving a small stain. It wasn’t completely obvious but I knew it was there. This would happen today I hate Mondays. Things were in full swing, actually, busy. When I got there. I sat down and tried to focus on my work. But I couldn’t get anything done. All I could think about was that dream.

Lunch rolled around and I realized I’d left it at home. I didn’t want to bother Henry. He hadn’t had a day to himself in a while. So I was just going to pick something up. I ran to the little convenience store down the road and got a little snack. It was much but it would hold me over until the end of the day.

The rest of the day was so busy. So many emails and the work just kept piling up. It was non-stop. I was so ready to get back to my place and spend the evening with Henry. I walked out to my car and put the key in the ignition and… it didn’t start. I tried it again… nothing. How could this happen? It ran perfectly fine on lunch. God, I was just tired and hungry and I want to get home! I’ve spent the whole day reminded of this terrible thing I’d gone through, and now this? Today sucked! I sighed and pulled out my phone. I was going to have to call Henry. I tapped his name and the phone rang. After the second ring, he picked up.

“Hey, babe, you on you’re way back?” He asked. I sighed again.

“No,” I said flatly. “My car won’t start I don’t know what’s wrong, the engine won’t even try to turn over.” I rambled. I could hear myself starting to hyperventilate.

“Slow down, breathe. I’ll be right there.” He promised. In 10 minutes he was pulling up next to my car. We tried to jump it but that did nothing. I sighed and slammed the door. “Whoa, hey, it’s gonna be alright we’ll get it fixed, love,” Henry said grabbing my shoulders gently and making me face him. I felt my lip start to wobble. I didn’t want him to see me cry. In all honesty, we hadn’t been together that long. He hadn’t seen me break down and I wasn’t ready for him to. What if I was too much? What if he didn’t want me anymore?

“I-i’m sorry, today has just been… stressful. I was looking forward to getting home and spending time with you.” I said.

“And you’re going to, we’ll leave the car here I’ll have it looked at in the morning. Let's get back and relax my love.” Henry drove us home. I shuffled inside, quickly changing into comfy clothes. After spending a while trying to fix the car it had gotten a bit late so we decided to order in. Henry ordered dinner while I got cozy on the couch. We ate our Chinese takeout and binged a new Netflix series. My mind wandered not fully paying attention. Getting lost in the dream from this morning. I was staring blankly at a spot on the wall, I didn’t hear Henry say my name. He shook my shoulder and I yelped. His brow raised and his eyes filled with concern, and something that almost looked like hurt.

“What’s going on with you today love?” He asked. I snapped.

“What do you mean? Nothings going on everythings fine!” I said. He sat back looking at me from a sideways glance.

“You’ve been on edge all day,” He stated.

“You haven’t even been with me all day,” I rolled my eyes.

“Is something bothering you?” He asked. I groaned.

“Fucking hell, would you just drop it Henry? I told you, I’m fine!” I shouted. Henry ran a hand through his hair and groaned in frustration.

“I’m just trying to help,” He sighed.

“Yeah, well I didn’t ask, I’m not some helpless damsel you need to save!” I argued.

“I never said that!” he groaned. “But you’ve been stressed since you woke up this Morning.” He stated.

“So?” I deflected, clearly agitated.

So… who’s Luke?” He asked his voice calm. My stomach dropped. How did he know that name?

“I don’t know what your talking about…” I said shifting my eyes to the floor.

“Alayna, when you were having your nightmare, you… said his name, asking him to stop. Who is he?” He asked again. I swallowed hard. I kept my eyes on the floor hidingn the tears that had started to well up.

“No one, must’ve just been a name my brain came up with.” I lied.

“Come on,” he pleaded. “I know you don’t think I’m that stupid.” He said. I looked up at him, eyes meeting his. He was hurt. Hurt that I was shutting him out.

“I don’t think you’re stupid at all, I just… don’t want you to think I … to think less of me.” I sniffled. Henry brushed my hair out of my face and brushed his thumb across my cheek.

“Talk to me, I want to understand.” He said. “Whatever is, I just want to help you,” he stated. I nodded.

“He… is…was a friend of my brothers.” I started. “They were friends since they were kids, I new him since I was a baby.” I explained. Henry nodded. Keeping his hand on my back silently supporting me. I went on. “I thought I could trust him. I was so naive. He always seemed like a good guy. He came to town to celebrate my brothers birthday. And they came back drunk. He woke me up. Because he wanted to say hi. I got up to talk with them and when we went back to bed he… got into my bed. I thought he was joking at first. I thought he was gonna leave.” I looked at Henry. His face was calm, but I knew that he knew what I was going to say. I didn’t miss the anger in his eyes. But he stayed quiet. Letting me get it all out. “He was like a brother to me. I-I don’t know how he could touch me like that. But… I couldn’t do anything. It was wrong, it was so wrong but I was like frozen with fear or shock I don’t know. I know that I told him no. Once. something he wanted to do … I finally was able to find my voice but. It didn’t matter. The next morning he acted like nothing happened. I never said anything. I never pressed charges…nothing. It was years ago. In my dream I confronted him. He told me I couldn’t prove it. He wouldn’t own up to it. I yelled at him. And he tried to convince me I wanted it.. And he…he tried to come after me again.” I cried. Henry quickly wrapped me up in his arms pulling me into him. “That’s when I woke up.” I said. I cried against Henry’s shoulder while he held me. He gently cooed in my ear as if consoling a baby. But it helped. It was the comfort I needed. The shoulder to cry on I never really had. He was quiet for a while. Letting me have this moment and then.

“You know, none of that, is your fault.” He said. His voice soft.

“But I.. let him.” I said. His jaw ticked. Trying to remain calm for me.

“No, he may not have been violent or mean or angry. But he still forced you. He was bigger than you. You had no choice. But to let him do what he wanted. I can’t imagine the pain you’ve felt carrying this for so long. But I won’t let you do it alone anymore.” He said.

“You don’t have to,” I sniffed.

“The bastard is lucky he’s still breathing. He may not live anywhere near you but if he ever comes within a mile of you he’s a dead man.” He growled.

“I’m sorry, about…” I started staring at the ground.

“Look at me,” He cupped my face pulling my eyes back to his. “ I don’t care about some little argument. Or a stressful evening. I care about your wellbeing, your safety, and your peace of mind. There may not be much we can do about what happened. But I can help you feel safer, I can help you feel protected. That’s what matters. Let me care for you. Don’t be too proud to let me help you.” he pleaded. I nodded. I was exhausted. Today had been so hard. I didn’t have the energy to be guarded anymore.

“Okay,” I said.

“You need rest love, you look exhausted.” He said softly. I nodded laying my head against his shoulder. Henry carried me to bed and I immediately curled myself around him. He smiled softly.

“As long as I breathe. He will never, get to you,” He said softly. I nodded my breathing slowly as I listened to his heart beat. Henry softly stroked my hair and I felt my eyes lids get heavy.

“Get some sleep darling, I’ll be right here,” he promised. My eyes closed and everything faded to black. And for the first time in a long time. I had a dreamless sleep. I was safe. Now. Truly safe. I didn’t have to fight this alone.

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I don't feel like this is my best work but it is honest... I'm gonna add my taglist here but you so don't have to read it! if you do thank you! It's just away of me getting all my emotions out. Y'all are like my online emotional support group <3

@foxyjwls007

@enchantedbytomandhenry

@summersong69

@carrie80reads

@identity2212

@caramariehurst

@redheadrouge

@warriormirkwood

@gummydummy19

@deandoesthingstome

@shellyshellshell

@mary-ann84

@starfirewildheart

@henryownsme

@mollymal

@wa-ni

@toooldforobsessions

@pono-pura-vida

@Chloeforde

@liecastillo

@mrsevans90

@evie-119

@margauxmargaux07

@thearcana-moonlight

@secretdream2

@wtfdudesblog

@juliaorpll78

@nothingbettertosay81

#henry cavill #fanfic writing #fanfiction #henry cavil x reader #captain syverson #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill characters #sa tw #sa mention #comfort #comfort fic #comfort character #comfort person #august walker

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saltpepperbeard · 9 months

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so it’s august.

two months out, officially.

which means there’s a very VERY real possibility of actually getting promotional material this month.

like, a teaser could legitimately drop if they follow the same two month out teaser/one month out trailer pattern.

we could legitimately see season 2 stede for the first time, more of season 2 ed, and get glimpses of what’s actually in store for us like,,,

#OFMD #OFMD Season 2 #OFMD Season 2 Spoilers #SIMPLY because I mentioned Ed lmao #Edward Teach #Stede Bonnet #This is assuming the schedule isn’t delayed a bit with everything going on #But like lol man EJDJWJD MAN #I woke up this morning and was like oh it’s august…….#…….OH. IT’S AUGUST 👁👄👁#Y’all I’m over here having visceral reactions to a fandom im not even in #I CANT EVEN REALLY FATHOM WHAT MY REACTIONS WILL BE TO MY OWN LMAO??????

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yanderemommabean · 1 year

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Silly letter from August

((I made a little letter idea with August! It's nothing much just him gushing about his crush and such! -Mommabean))

To Whom It Concerns,

I was once promised an afterlife of eternal bliss if I followed the footsteps that my ancestors laid before me. But I feel, since meeting you, I’ve been blessed even more than any religious figure could gift me.

You do more to me than any private church session. You warm me more than any family meal by the fire. You make my eyes widen with awe and joy when you do anything, such as smiling my way or showing me how you handle your animals.

I’m not one to question my faith often, never once, if I'm being quite honest. But being with you has made me question everything lately, and I’ve even considered some rather unholy things just to know what it’s like to love you fully.

You’ve haven’t even been here a year and you’ve captured a soul like me. I wonder who else has been wrangled by your looks and your energy. I envy them if they can sleep at night without you beside them.

I’m a man who’s always hungry, and for you, it only grows. I starve for your kiss, for your touch, to feel your hand in mine as we walk down the aisle or simply lie side by side.

I know this whole thing is nothing but a ramblin man going on and on, but it has a meaning, I promise!

I plan to make you mine. Doesn’t matter what the town thinks, what the church thinks, hell, doesn’t matter what you think. I’m sure we’re meant to be, and I won’t let you slip away. We’ll be together one way or another, and if God is truly watching, he’ll offer his help to get you in my arms.

Your diligent lover,

August.

#tw religious mention #southern yandere #yandere scenarios #yandere imagines #yandere cowboy #yandere male #mommabean #yandere letter #my ocs #august my oc

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cavinginhisfvce · 1 year

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'IT'LL ALL WORK OUT'

Disclaimer: I'm honestly not a fan of Susan, but I thought this fic idea was cute!

Paring: Harringrove.

When Neil married Susan, he was against Susan adopting Billy, claiming the boy's real mother couldn't bother to be tasked with raising him, so no one should ever burden themselves with such a thing.

Susan, surprisingly, was firm in wanting to pick up the slack Billy's mother left in her wake, eventually Neil relented, and the adoption process was underway.

It's been four years, and a move to Hawkins, Indiana since Billy legally became Susan's child, something Max was displeased with initially, quickly became a comfort to her when she discovered what Neil did to his son. It had shaken her to her core, and when she relayed the information to her mother, the woman simply pulled her into a hug and murmured, "I know, baby. It'll all work out."

Max didn't know what that meant, or if she should trust her mom. But, she silently nodded, she had no real options here. She had to wait for the future.

The future as it turns out, was just three months later; Neil had laid into Billy with more fervor than usual, and when Susan made to step in, her husband struck her.

It hadn't detoured the red-haired woman, she continued her self-appointed task of checking on Billy, who was staring up at her with a look she's never seen on his face, a look no seventeen should ever wear.

She gave him a small, comforting smile, just as Neil got a fist full of otherwise pristine hair; his freehand raising to strike once more.

The action worked quickly in pulling Billy from his Susan induced trance with a start, his body moving faster than his brain as he lunged at his father, swiftly knocking the man to the ground.

For years, Neil's abuse had only ever been turned towards his son, and in truth he was grateful; because Billy doesn't know what he would do if it was ever Max on the receiving end. She was a child, she was his shitty little sister. Max, who brought him the stupidest (best) hoodies he owns, the fabric softer than any he had previously. Max, who despite hating Billy in the beginning, now comes to his room when she has a nightmare or generally needs comforting from someone other than her mother. She's the only person to hug him since the day his mom took off.

His sister who despite everything, tries so hard to show Billy someone loves him. She loves him.

Susan had tried to comfort him, but Billy always brushed her off. She never seemed to take it personally for some reason. Maybe because she knew he was afraid of what would happen if Neil even suspected Billy felt safe in their home.

The knowledge that Neil could hurt Susan was always present in Billy's mind, but he often wrote off his concern with a scoff. She knew what she married, she knew what he was like. It was her problem, not his.

However, seeing Neil actually hit Susan had set something off in Billy, because while she may have never defended or stood up for him as she had today; she still made sure he was properly tended to after encounters with his father.

If Neil sent him to bed sans dinner, locking him in his bedroom for however long, she would have Max sneak him a sandwich, Max was always more than happy to take said food.

The times when Neil kicked Billy out intent on making the boy sleep in his car, Susan always snuck a bag of snacks, blankets, and whatever else, into the bushes by their house for him to grab. Despite always going to Steve's and sleeping in the boy's guestroom on those nights, it still showed she was trying.

If Billy was bed ridden after his father caved his chest in, a few too many times, she would come into his room, soothe his pain with hushed words and gentle touches. Billy was usually too tired and in too much pain to reject her warm hands and kind fingers working through his curls after she'd patched him up.

Seeing Susan cradle her cheek, seeing Max sob at the display, finally gave Billy the nerve to stand up to Neil.

He doesn't really remember much after straddling his father, his fists flying rapidly, their intended destination Neil's face, but he does remember Susan scrambling to call 911. Remembers her soft words of assurance that Neil was down.

He remembers Max's look of relief as their eyes met.

He still feels the phantom hold as Susan tugs him from his place over his dad's limp frame. Can vaguely recall the frightening seconds he thought he killed his father before the man was gasping awake, his eyes widened with fear as they landed on Billy. He was actually afraid of Billy.

Everything beyond that was a blur, Billy doesn't really know what was said, or done. He just knows Neil was in police custody, something that would've left Billy parentless, if not for Susan having adopted him all those years ago.

Especially since his own mother had taken off when he was barely five, and relinquished her rights as a parent in the same breath she'd divorced his father.

He always wondered why he wasn't enough. For his mother or Neil.

When Hopper came by to ask if they wanted to press charges, both Billy and Susan agreed easily. It was the most gratifying decision Billy has ever made in regards to his father and the abuse he's endured at his hands for years.

Billy and Steve started officially seeing each other a few weeks after Neil's trial ended. Hopper saw to it that his father was hit with the max sentence for child abuse, and domestic violence. Both Max and Billy would be well into adulthood when Neil gets released, something that made the decision to be with Steve all that sweeter.

He hadn't wanted to come out to Susan, the lingering fear that she would object to her newly seventeen year old son being with a guy was too prevalent.

Though, technically, he didn't come out to her, she came to him one morning with her hand on her hip and a warm smile on her lips demanding he "bring his 'Pretty Boy' to dinner."

Billy wanted to be upset that she'd found out, but he was far too humiliated that it was his own fault she'd figured it out. Apparently calling Steve 'Pretty Boy' like it was going out of style, was a dead giveaway for the woman.

Much to Billy and Max's (dis)pleasure, Susan and Steve got along easily.

On Billy's eighteenth birthday, Max had barged into his bedroom, shrieking in horror when she was met with an eyeful of her brother and Steve in a slight state of undress, Billy had thrown a pillow in her direction, his voice rough with embarrassment as he shouted,

"Mom, tell Maxine to fucking knock!"

Both siblings froze at that, Max had a wide smile on her face, while Billy looked slightly mortified, his words echoing in his ears.

The look morphed into one of pain when Susan slipped into his room, her smile rivaling Max's with how big it was, "That's the first time you've ever called me mom…"

Billy swallowed thickly and nodded his head, though he refused to make eye contact with the woman, even when she was throwing her arms around his bare shoulders in an iron grip hug, "okay, okay, I get it! Can we maybe talk about this shit later, you know, when I'm not trying to get laid on my birthday?"

Billy wasn't actually going to have sex with Steve with both Max and Susan home, but their presence in the house definitely wasn't going to prevent Steve from watching Billy fall apart beneath him, especially not if the brunet had any say in the matter.

This had Susan reaching out to lightly slap his shoulder, a faux look of exasperation on her features,"maybe next time you or Pretty Boy over there will remember to lock the door, hm?"

With one last smile at Billy, accompanied by a wink, she then ushered Max out the room, Steve almost immediately leaping up to lock the door behind them; his face beet red when their eyes finally met.

"I'm fuckin' moving out." His tone was embarrassed, but there was no heat behind, no real threat to his words.

He wouldn't leave his sister and his mother for any reason short of them wanting him gone.

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jsrenjoyer · 6 months

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sarah and jimmy as a silly post i found on… pinterest?? idk take it anywho

#why have i posted art of these two more than the eds themselves dot dot dot #not like a massive fan of how this looks but the idea was funny to me so idc #forgot to mention i drew these back in like august lmfao #ed edd n eddy #eene #fanart #eene sarah #eene jimmy #my art

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one-time-i-dreamt · 9 months

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Netflix made a really bad mafia movie about my school. It was filmed in my school and all the characters were based off of people from my school. The character based off of me died and I got really offended.

#dream #text #August 6th 2023 #netflix #mafia #movie #film #school #death #death tw #death mention

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thebroccolination · 2 months

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For me, Fitting Day for BounPrem’s upcoming vampire series is like watching the red carpet of an event that expensive people attend. Or perhaps a well-liked sporting event of some kind.

Like, oh man.

THAT’S BLURRY BOUNPREM

AND THAT’S A FUCKING BACK HUG

BITE HIM!

#bounprem #boun noppanut guntachai #prem warut #the vampire project #once young royals ends next month i’m basically waiting for two things #the showcase (kristsingto series my love)#and this show in august(?)#i am Prepared to Collect Every Scrap and Mention of this show

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crescentfool · 10 months

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a new stream doodle from today + a few stream doodles from 2022 i never posted here! also there's my ryoji brush if you want it... link in the replies 😳

#persona 3 #minato arisato #behold my unhinged insanity that happens when i take requests from people while streaming #im thinking ill do more doodles like this in the future but not atm. maybe in august though !#anyway i love idog minato don't you love minato and idog everyone say thank you to luca / mymp3 #also the second one (the protags in a car). i've had the minato on there as my icon for like 10 months.. crazy #lizzy does art #also if any of you use the ryoji brush and post art of it please mention me i want to see what people create with it LOL

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misfithive · 1 year

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A rant about August bc i saw something on pinterest that made me so angry. TW ppl excusing abuse

I saw this post that said “reminder: August isn’t a villain he is just a confused and troubled teen who made some wrong choices go easy on him”

DO YOU UNDERSTAND how harmful that narrative is????? August’s choice was to commit a sex crime against minors. Who he targeted not only bc of his own issue with his cousin and insecurities but specifically because they are queer and he knew that it would spread around the world. HE SPENT A LOT OF TIME rewatching the video before deciding to upload it. That is calculated and malicious . Not some silly little mistake. It is actually quite violent and perpetuates r*pe culture to assert the idea that boys who do things like this are just confused and made a little woopsie and should just get a slap on the wrist. Do you know how many victims of violence get told by their own family and friends “he didnt mean it like that” “he just made a mistake” “he’s going through a lot right now so dont be too hard on him”. Literally what the f. He has caused them a lifetime of trauma but be nice to him ok🥺. I understand that he is a human being, I’m not saying oh he deserves harm and honestly its not even about whether he goes to jail or not. but to trivialize it and say be nice to him really does not sit right with me

#not to mention the fact everyone hates sara and she gets held to a different standard surprise #he isnt even remorseful his remorse only extended until he saw an opportunity at power #but u want people to feel sorry for him?#young royals #august #maybe im taking it personally bc it is personal to me #and dont bother arguing w me in thebcomments bc i literally dont care #misfit meta

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bluedalahorse · 4 months

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Scattered thoughts about the YR faves as we approach season 3

It’s been a busy week, and then the week before that was busy too, so I’ve been reading but not fully weighing in on many of the season 3 questions that have been starting to bubble up on my dash. So I’m posting the thoughts swirling around in my mind about my two favorite characters (Sara and August) just so that my thoughts can exist somewhere other than my own head.

People are starting to discuss the question of Sara and Simon reconciling again, and I think I might have to address that in another post of its own. I spent an entire semester of grad school looking at how characters reconcile in fiction, and obviously I think a lot of it is going down to Simon’s needs and priorities and decisions, so obviously I have Thoughts. (I also have minimal patience for fans who want Sara to crawl over a football field’s worth of broken glass for Simon if that is what Simon doesn’t want himself.)

I feel like one of the questions surrounding August’s character arc are whether there is hope for him to own his actions and change one day, or whether he’s only going to get worse, and never be able to break his cycles of awfulness. Some folks argue that season 2 put that question to rest and that he’s unchangeable. I argue that the question is still in play. The more complex reasons are in my restorative justice post, but I also argue that it would be incredibly strange writing to take one of your show’s most dynamic characters and have his character arc stagnate and go nowhere new in season 3. Now, he could choose to turn over a new leaf in season 3, or he could triple down on his harmful decisions. The point is I think it would have to be another choice, and if he makes the decision to embrace harming others and himself, it would have to be a tragic choice, and not something we can be smug about because we Already Knew He Was Evil. I dunno, there’s this like… sometimes there’s this tendency in other fandoms to gloat and be like “I, Unlike The Other Girls, was not distracted by this broody brunette man’s hotness, and I realized he was bad all along. One hundred points to me for not clamoring for a redemption arc.” And like, yes, it’s fun to laugh at Dude Watchin’ With the Brontës once in a while (I laugh at it!) but I think we also have to acknowledge that fiction is about people growing and changing and we as media enjoyers sometimes become invested in character arcs. It just feels weird to me that fans would gloat about like… the supposed moral superiority of not being invested in a character arc that the show clearly wants us to be invested in.

If August is always going to cause harm and he is unable to change his ways, then he may continue to target Simon with the drugs and the blackmail. But he may also choose to target Sara, especially if he finds out she called the police on him. He has pictures and information he can use against her now, and I feel like that is probably, very likely what the show would do to show us that he is Too Far Gone. Frankly I find that terrifying. What I find even more terrifying is that I know there will be fans (probably those who use anonymous messages on the more public facing blogs) who will say that Sara “deserves it” because she “knew he was bad when she had sex with him.” Like. Can we agree not to do that as a fandom, and call it out when we see it? Because I’m pretty sure that Lisa would not write a storyline like that while cackling and going “haha that bitch Sara got what’s coming to her.” I’m pretty sure if Lisa writes something like that she’ll want us to feel sympathy for Sara too. And I mean, you don’t have to feel sympathy, but using the cloak of anonymity to express open misogynistic malice would be… yikes.

I also think that if the show is making the decision to say that August is always going to cause harm, that he’s never going to escape a cycle of harming himself and others and fall in to patterns of abuse, then we should want to see Sara reconnect with others in season three and find some sort of healing or connection. I guess that doesn’t have to be her finding connections with Simon. It could be! It could also be Felice, or Linda, or Maddie, or anyone. (I’m really hoping Sara will get to connect with Wilhelm.) But there’s good in wanting her to find connections, and for wanting her to know that there is a path forward in life that isn’t total isolation or like, packing herself off to the convent to atone forever. Especially if the message about August is that he’s somehow unable to change and is just that awful. If your view of August is that he’s so monstrous or unforgivable, so caught in dangerous patterns that it was wrong for Sara to get close to him at all, then we need to view Sara’s relationship with him as something that put her in danger, even when she chose a relationship with him at first. And one of the ways you stay out of danger is by having strong connections to other loved ones. Abuse works because the abuser uses isolation as a weapon. Also, presuming the show reaches the verdict that August is an abuser who can’t change—even if August and Sara never talk to one another again, Sara being friendless in other ways just sweeps the path clear for the next abuser to swoop down on her. I hope people would recognize that as a tragedy too.

If, however, the show goes in the direction of like… August takes his first steps toward making better decisions, and gets some therapy or rehab or whatever else, then ultimately his past relationship with Sara might play an indirect role in that, and in helping August see alternatives to his current way of being. I’m not saying the simple act of falling in love redeems someone for wrongs done. It doesn’t! (Young Royals actually does a lot to subvert that as a narrative, which is something I address when I talk about Wilhelm, again in my restorative justice post.) I’m saying Sara was the only damn person on the show in season 2 who told August it would be good for his soul to confess and attempted to support him in that, however imperfectly. Every other teenager who knew what August did (Wilhelm, Felice, Alexander) took it for granted that he wouldn’t confess—and, you know, fair on Wille and Felice’s part, but also Alexander couldn’t have gone to an adult, huh? Every single adult that August talked to about the video (Kristina, Rickard) insisted he keep quiet about it, scared him into it even. It takes more than one person in a community to hold someone accountable for wrongs done, and Hillerska as a community has repeatedly failed that test. I don’t know, I keep looking at that promo picture of August alone in his room and wonder if he’s practicing the breathing exercises Sara taught him. They don’t have to be together again for that to be the case. Maybe the memory of her will be helpful to him in some way.

Ultimately I don’t—at the moment—really care about whether August goes to jail or not. People will interpret this as me saying “I don’t think August should go to jail” and that’s not actually what I’m saying. It’s just that I find the question of whether he’s capable of change or not infinitely more interesting, and the role the system/Hillerska plays in encouraging that change (or not) infinitely more interesting than the question of what the specifics of August’s “punishment” or “consequences” might be. “Consequences” can be him living with the crushing knowledge of how deeply he hurt Wilhelm and Simon and Sara and Felice for the rest of his life, and trying to move forward in a different way from now on knowing he can never undo the past. “Punishment” can be August becoming king but being completely unable to change his ways and connect with other humans and feel any sense of agency in his life. There are multiple ways to address his arc—whether he’s awful or whether he’s willing to atone—that don’t rely on the legal system providing narrative catharsis all by itself, and frankly I’d prefer that it didn’t. (There’s a longer reason why but I feel like I keep linking my restorative justice post.)

To sum up… if these characters’ arcs go in a really tragic direction, I hope people don’t gloat and go “I knew they were terrible all along, unlike those other fans.” And if they go in a more positive directions, I hope we don’t hear the chorus of “they didn’t deserve it!” even if that arc is beautifully, complexly, and compellingly written. (Here are my thoughts on the way fandoms use the word deserve, by the way. It seems I have written about this before and am just becoming a parody of myself at this point.)

#young royals #sara eriksson #august horn #abuse mention #my meta #not really my meta just random thoughts #thanks for putting up with me

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