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dharma-divine · 2 years

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DIOSKOUROI

Chapter I

Pairing: Twins x (Female) Reader*, endgame TBD

Summary: Given your first taste of freedom in order to attend a prestigious arts academy, you befriend a sweet, charming boy who ultimately proves to be delinquent warlock, desperate to free his equally deceitful twin brother from hell after a necessary betrayal to their coven. You are essential to the brothers’ liberation and reunion, and in the process of learning of their mystic abilities and lineage, you reveal the truth of your own.

(For a more information regarding mythological references and character abilities, please click here)

WARNINGS: None at the moment, though this series will eventually contain adult content. (*this is a love triangle situation, no sort of in*estuous content occurs)

Thank you @garbagevanfleet and @godlyvia for editing and being my betas xx

Taglist: @gardenvanfleet @alwayzthere @sammygvfslut @gretavanhoney @maverick-rose @fosterkidwiththebrokenjaw @obetrolncocktails @capturethechaos @tlexx @charlesashton @garagebandvanfleet @myownparadise96 @jakeslovehandles @sparrowofthedawn @danny-wagners-peacesign-necklace @alt-jb @idk-maddie @theweightofstardust

FLECTERE SI NEQUEO SUPEROS, ACHERONTA MOVEBO

The words echo in your mind in a deep, thunderous voice as your vision manifests into a thicket of evergreens. You look up to see an orange glow beyond the treetops, specks of ember rising to melt with the stars. Tendrils of rich foliage loom above you, their sunken arms dusting you with crystalline dewdrops as you maneuver through them. You’re winded — you don’t recall running, but your lungs burn as they gulp in the frigid air, your chest heaving staggered breaths as they try to recover.

You’re getting closer.

You look down at your feet as they continue to guide you towards the entrancing voice; they’re bare, numb to the nettles and other debris of the forest floor. You curl your stiffened fingertips into tight fists, your nails digging into your palms once you know you’ve reached the last row of trees. You hesitate to reach forward, to push through the remaining branches and step into the clearing before you, the massive beacon of fire blazing in its center.

He’s sitting at the base of the inferno, his legs crossed neatly in front of him, his fingers splayed over his knees. The flames cast dancing shadows across his face, and you realize as you approach that his eyes are shut, his eyelids fluttering frantically as his lips move to match a thunderous voice that is entirely too powerful to be coming from just his small frame alone.

FACTUM FIERI INFECTUM NON POTEST. VENI AD ME, TE ARCESSO

You don’t know what they mean, but the foreign words strike something deep within you.

“I’m here,” you answer, your voice sounding meek and distant from where it escapes from your lips.

His eyes suddenly open, irises blazing with the same fire that begins to magnify behind him, as if someone just doused it with gasoline.

“Help me. Save him,” he replies, in a tongue you understand.

As he breathes the last word, a figure appears within the flames, casted black, but you can tell by the broadened silhouette that it’s also a boy. He just stands there, only his shadow visible within the sweltering heat, but you know that he’s looking at you. You suddenly feel the magnetic pull you’ve been experiencing strengthen, your legs continuing to guide you towards the fire despite the light being nearly blinding. You walk past the boy sitting in the grass, feeling his gaze follow you as you dare to step into the flames. Your watch as you place your foot on the glowing embers, but you don’t feel the burn. You realize you’re numb to the fire entirely, despite the flames lapping up your legs as you venture further. It feels as though you’ve dipped your body in a warm bath. It’s almost comforting. You look up at the dark figure to see that he has an arm extended towards you, his palm facing upwards. You reach out and grab his hand with your own, and you’re shocked to feel the sensation of skin, of calloused fingertips and a plush palm, even though he only appears to be a shadowy void in front of you. You squeeze it as he pulls you closer, leading you deeper into the fire.

You’re finally starting to see his features as you get closer – round eyes, plump lips, wisps of hair that lay gently on his shoulders. He’s a beautiful boy, just like his brother – they have to be brothers. You let go of his hand and start to reach up to caress his cheek when a dull, heavy pain starts to gather in your chest. You clutch at the area, though nothing is there. You start to panic as the pressure quickly grows into a deep pain, and you begin struggling for breath. You frantically grab at your chest, desperate for the pain to stop, and you begin to cry with frustration. You look up at the boy in front of you, wanting to beg for his help, but when you open your mouth, another force suddenly yanks away and out of the fire entirely, dragging you back into the dark woods.

You’re swallowed back into the night at once, stifling sobs once your eyes meet the expanse of the eerie woods once again.

You feel tired, and hopelessly alone, stuck inside some sick, sick time loop. You want nothing more than to collapse onto the forest floor, to decay and become one with the earth below, your soul seeping into the dirt.

But your skin pricks at a rush of cold wind, another menacing voice carried with its blow.

Run.

You awaken with a gasp, your hands clutching the pressure on your chest, only for them to meet a pelt of soft fur.

A shrill yowl sounds from the void rested upon you, two yellow eyes blinking open to meet yours.

“Get off,” you scold, sitting up so the lanky black cat is forced to slide off of you, hopping down from the bed and scurrying across the wood floor.

“Why don’t you just let Lazlo love you?” you hear your aunt call just before she enters the open door across the room, steadily carrying a tray in front of her. “He’s sat at your doorway all morning.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble as you attempt to clear your mind of your nightmare, the same one you’ve experienced every night for the last week and a half, rubbing your eyes as she sets the tray across your blanketed lap. “I‘ve told you, I’m just not a cat person.”

She sighs.

You’re rubbing sleep from your eyes when you feel something heavy set in your blanketed lap, and you open them to see a glorious breakfast spread set atop your wooden bed tray, the lucious smell of its contents wafting up at you and melting away your tiredness.

A white, porcelain kettle with dainty pink roses sits in the center, along with a matching teacup and saucer. Two more plates sit on either side of the tea set, a heaping stack of pancakes on one, scrambled eggs and charred bacon on the other — just how you like it.

You smile at the beautiful spread of food, plucking a strip of bacon and crunching down on it.

Aunt Edith bares a teabag from her gingham apron, placing it in the little porcelain cup before tipping the kettle to pour steaming hot water over it. You catch sight of the tiny slip of paper attached to the string of the teabag, the word protection written across it in black ink.

“Aunt Edith I really appreciate your concern, but I don’t think tea is going to offer me much protection,” you laugh as she dunks the bag a few times to help it seep, the clear water gradually turning a rosy pink color.

“Just drink it please, for me,” she pleads, suddenly sounding distressed as she runs her hands down her apron.

Though her anxiety is usually quite exasperating, you consider it justified today. It’s the first day of your semester at Acaber Academy, a prestigious fine arts school that you had begged her relentlessly to let you apply for, practically threatening your life if she didn’t let you.

You have been homeschooled by your aunt your entire life, up until you graduated a little over three years ago. It was hard enough growing up alone throughout grade school, but at this point, you’re absolutely yearning for a life beyond the cottage tucked in deep in the woods that you’ve resided in your whole life. You’re miles away from any big cities, the suburbia you read about and watch on film seeming like an entire different universe.

With it just being the two of you (she never married, never had the desire to), it’s pretty easy to sustain most of your food and other necessities yourself. She tends to her lavish garden in her front yard everyday, rotating her crops every season — right now with autumn in full swing, she’s just about ready to harvest her carrots, potatoes, and cabbage. You have a sweet old neighbor a few miles up the road that’s a butcher, and she exchanges some of her fruits and vegetables for fresh meat and milk. She has a chicken coop out back for eggs, and she makes her own soaps, shampoos, and cleaning detergents out of herbal oils and other ingredients she grows.

Despite the autonomous lifestyle, Aunt Edith lets you wander into the nearest town, a sleepy town still a good twenty minutes away, every so often to buy rice, flour, and other dry goods that she can’t grow herself in bulk at a farmer’s market that congregates at the beginning of every month. The tiny field with dozens of vendors sits just on the edge of the town’s main square, and the visit is always the highlight of your month. Though Aunt Edith is always adamant about you only going to the market, you’ve admittedly let yourself venture into the surrounding shops and bakeries when your purchase leaves a few dollars to spare. You have a painful sweet tooth, and love to stop for ice cream at the creamery that sits on the very corner of the square — a scoop of classic french vanilla in a waffle cone always being your favorite, or to stuff your pockets with bonbons and other candies at the shop next door, with Aunt Edith never keeping sweets in the house that are not of her creation. You always sit on a bench in the center of the square, right next to the courthouse, watching couples and families go by, wishing you had a life like theirs.

When you were younger you would have to make sure every wrapper and receipt was thrown away by the time you get home, ridding yourself of any evidence of intermingling with the real world because you were certain that Aunt Edith would kill you if she were to find out about your solo adventures, though in recent years you’ve found that you don’t really care. You’re a bit resentful of your aunt for keeping you so sheltered for so long, but you’re willing to let it go now that your freedom is here. It’s been a long time coming, but it’s finally here.

“Did you sleep alright?” she asks, walking over to your closet and flipping through your assortment of coats and sweaters. “You looked a bit startled when you woke up.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you assure, waving your hand dismissively. “Just another weird dream.”

You try to deter them, but the images of the fire and those figures flash back into your memory. This is the third time you’ve had these strange dreams, and they’ve all played out exactly the same way – you running through the forest, entranced by that mystical voice – though the duration of the dreams seem to extend with every night, with tonight being the first time you actually made it into the fire. You recall how surreal it was to not feel the burn of the flames, only a pleasant warmth as they lapped against your skin.

The first one occurred on your twenty-first birthday, which just passed a little over a week ago. The day wasn’t anything special, as most birthdays aren’t, but Aunt Edith did let you have a sip of red wine she had stored in the basement cellar, serving it in her nicest crystal chalice with your favorite buttercream cake after dinner.

“Just one glass,” she had ordered, and honestly, one glass was all you needed.

The bittersweetness was pleasant on your tongue, and after only a few gulps, you had a fuzzy, warm feeling in your chest, your cheeks flushed. You went to bed promptly after, prancing up the stairs, your head full of giggles.

You fell asleep as soon as you hit the bed, your mind suddenly entranced in vivid visions of fire and night. You've never had such lucid dreams before, and you rarely ever recall them the morning after, but these are so clear they feel as if you’ve actually lived them. The only details blurry to you are the faces of the figures, and though the thought of reliving them again scares you, you hope for them to be revealed eventually. You feel bound to them, almost as if they were a part of a past life.

Aunt Edith justifies these dreams as your unconscious anxiety for starting school, and for eating too many sweets before bed. At this point, you don’t care to elaborate on them anymore.

She hands you the teacup once it’s seeped, urging you to place it against your lips.

“Well, there’s no need to ponder on it. Drink up.”

The tea is earthy and bitter, and you struggle to get it down. You wish for a spoonful of sugar or honey, but you don’t see any in the spread before you, and don’t care to bother your aunt any further after the effort she made with this breakfast. So, you gulp it down until you feel the grainy sediment of the herbs hit your tongue.

After breakfast, you walk out onto your front porch to get a feel for what weather the day will bring. The painted wood of the deck is cold against your bare feet as you step onto the porch, stretching your limbs when you catch a ray of sunlight that slips between the clouds above. It’s a brisk fall day, but pleasantly so, a chill running through your body only when a swift rush of wind wisps around you.

After a few minutes of soaking in the fresh air, you step back inside and pad over back to your bedroom, swinging your closet door open and eyeing your eclectic arrangement of clothes. You decide on a black and white plaid dress with tights and knee socks, along with your favorite black loafers with the silver buckles. You pull a coat with fur trimmings over the whole ensemble, as well as a red beanie and scarf.

You walk over to your bag and do one last run through of all the items you read that you needed online – a journal for each subject, a zipper pouch filled with your favorite assortment of pens and pencils, a few folders, and – contributing to most of the weight – your hefty textbooks, which you hope you will not have to carry the entirety of the semester because just heaving the bag over your shoulder makes your back ache.

“Alright,” you call out to Aunt Edith as you walk into your entryway, grabbing your keys from the hook. “I’m leaving.”

“Oh, look at you,” she gushes as she walks in from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. “You look beautiful, so grown up. Be safe, sweetie. I know you drive into town sometimes but it’s a lot different where you’re headed. Watch for traffic, especially since you don’t have a license yet — we need to get that done soon. God, I should’ve done a test drive with you first. Don’t talk to strangers, maybe make a few friends but don’t go out to any parties they invite you to. And please —“

“I got it, I got it,” you laugh, unlocking the front door and stepping out. “I promise I’ll be safe. Love you too.”

The wind nips gently at your legs through your thin tights, though you don’t mind. You trot down your gravel driveway, admiring the garden that is already beginning to sprout with gourds and autumn greens.

You get to your truck parked at the very end of the gravel, hopping in and shivering at how cold the leather seat is against the exposed bits of your body. You quickly turn the ignition and switch on the heat, rubbing your hands together once the warm air begins to pipe through it.

When you pass the street you usually turn on to go to the farmer’s market, you have to fish out your phone to pull up the directions to the academy. You find your maps app and typing each letter of Acaber Academy into the search bar, flicking your eyes from your screen to the road with each letter. You get to the second ‘a’ in academy when you start to feel panicked and that you should just pull over. You sigh, tossing your phone in the passenger seat and focusing back on the road.

Just as you’re about to veer over to the stop lane, a brown figure dashes in front of you, and you slam on the breaks. Your tires screech to a halt, stopping just inches from the startled deer that stares bewilderingly from the street. Your heartbeat roars in your eardrums, your shaking hand pressing down on your horn to scare it back into the woods where it came from.

“Holy fuck,” you breathe to yourself, chest heaving as the adrenaline leaves you trembling.

You stare blankly at the road for a second, trying to refrain from thinking what would have happened if you had still been distracted with the directions on your phone.

☽ ✩ ☾

After a few laps around the parking lot, you finally find a lucky spot at the very front. You hastily pull into it, shutting your car off and falling back into your seat with a huff.

You look at the campus that’s laid before you, and at all of other students zipping around you, en route to their own classes. On top of the waves of anxiety from earlier still washing over you, your stomach is full of anxious butterflies, having rarely ever been around so many people your own age. After giving yourself a few affirmations, you push open your door and step out into the brisk autumn air. You sling your book bag over your shoulder, the action exciting you — you always saw it in movies, the outcast main character, their heads bowed low, anxious to face whatever adventures await them in the halls before them. You hope you’re in for something exciting.

You pull up a map of the campus on your phone, then the screenshot of your class schedule that had been emailed to you the night before.

9a-10:20a — Maple Lecture Hall, Room 444 — Professor Stalenberg

You squint as you look for Maple Hall on the map, finally locating it on the far left. You begin your trek in the general direction, trying to use the buildings and landmarks you pass by to guide you. Pollock Library, Cypress Performing Arts Center, Eden Sculpture Garden, the signs for all these unfamiliar places start to overwhelm you. You don’t see them labeled anywhere, and you begin to panic that you’ve gone the wrong way. You know you look frantic, your face buried in your phone as you attempt to read the tiny letters on the map, your eyes wide as they dart around to see where you are in relation to it. You’re so distracted in fact, that you don’t notice the person stopped in front of you, and you end up slamming right into their back, your phone flying from your hand and into the grass in front of the both of you.

“Oh, god,” you blurt, cupping your mouth in embarrassment. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” a cheery voice responds from over their shoulder, bending down with their back still to you. “It’s my fault for stopping on such a busy sidewalk.”

They turn around, extending a slender arm with your phone in hand. You look up to see the sweet face of a boy, a toothy grin spread across his lips, the tight curls of his hair bouncing with the light breeze.

“No, it’s—” you stutter, taking your phone from him. “It’s fine.”

You can’t help but freeze for a moment, stunned at the sight of him. He’s enchanting, his dark lashes batting from your tattered phone to you, his irises pools of warm amber that glint charmingly once they meet yours.

“You need help?” he asks, leaning forward to look at the map that’s still pulled up on your screen.

He smells like a wonderful mix of amber and vanilla, his curls coming only inches away from tickling your shoulder.

“I do, actually,” you nod, trying your best not to look flustered as you hand the phone back over to him. “It’s my first day.”

“Like, ever? You don’t look like a first year,” he says, studying you for a moment.

Your cheeks warm at his gaze. You nod, a smile curving your lips. “Like, ever. I’m twenty-one, I guess most twenty-one -year-olds are in their first or third year, but I had a bit of a late start.”

“No shame in that,” he nods back. “Better late than ever. What’s held you back, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“My aunt, she,” you begin, trying your best to word your thoughts correctly. “She’s a bit overprotective.”

“Mmm,” he purses his lips, looking past you as if he’s contemplating your reason. “Well, welcome to Acaber. I’m Josh.”

The boy extends out a hand, and you reach out to squeeze it, the scratchy wool on the cuffs of his coat tickling your fingertips.

Josh continues to study your phone for a few more moments before handing it back.

“Maple is right this way,” he chimes as he starts walking, to your dismay, in the exact opposite direction you were going in.

You feel your cheeks blush with embarrassment but you quickly brush it off, falling into step next to your new friend.

“So, Josh,” you say, your breath billowing from your lips against the chilled air. “What year are you?”

“Well, I guess I had a bit of a late start myself,” he explains, glancing over at you. “This is only my second semester, I transferred last spring.”

“Oh,” you say, raising your brow. “Well what are you studying?”

“History,” he says, flashing a smile at you.

“That’s so vague,” you laugh. “What kind of history? American? Literature?”

“Classical” he answers, turning a corner and chuckling when you shuffle to follow. “Classical studies.”

“Oh, and what does that focus on exactly?” you ask.

“Ancient civilizations, linguistics, art, mostly of the Greeks and Romans–”

He pauses to look at the building he has suddenly halted in front of.

“Which includes our Art of Ancient Greece class that we have together,” he says, giving you a cheeky smile. “What are the odds?”

“What are the odds,” you beam, following him up the steps to the building.

You watch fondly as his hair bounces with each step up the stairs, turning back to you once to make sure you’re keeping up. You anticipated making friends, but certainly not this quickly, and not with someone this cute.

Josh catches one of the front doors as someone swings through it, holding it open for you to walk through it with a toothy grin.

Upon entering, you’re wafted with the smell of old books, mahogany, and to your delight, coffee, the expanse of halls and corridors much more grand than you anticipated. Two more sets of stairs are laid out before you, one set leading up to the second floor that winds above you, another that descends into the vast space below, rows upon rows of desks ornamented with glowing lamps, students gathered around some as they mingle.

“This is gorgeous,” you breathe, gazing around the ornate ceiling and sculptures displayed along the walls, some of philosophers, some of deities you recognize from skimming through your textbooks.

“Yeah, this is not your average college campus, I suppose,” Josh chirps, leading the way up the ascending staircase.

When passing the second floor, you notice where the coffee scent is coming from; a small counter is nestled into the far corner of one of the rooms, a handwritten chalkboard and collection of old leather seats and booths making it the perfect burrow to study or have a quiet break.

On the third floor the library, which you only pass by briefly so as to not disturb anyone. It’s much quieter there, and you only see a few students wandering around the massive rows of shelves that ascend from its furthest wall, all stacked tightly with tomes and other old, worn books.

You finally reach the fourth floor, and you’re admittedly out of breath as Josh finally takes a turn down one of the dark corridors, the seceding pattern of arches along its ceiling making it feel like a never ending tunnel. You catch glimpses of each classroom as you walk by their opened doors, all occupied by their own handful of students, and you wonder what each of them are here to study, and if any of them are as new and anxious as you are at this moment.

You eventually make it to the end of the long hall and Josh turns towards a set of large double doors, one slightly ajar.

“Here we are,” he says, somehow not heaving for breath like you are. “Room 444.”

He pulls the door open to reveal a massive lecture hall, the seats nearly full at this point except for the very back rows, the quiet murmur of voices echoing off the expanse of walls around you. You glance at the time to find that it’s about five til.

Without a word, Josh leads the way down the middle aisle that separates the rows of seats, before shuffling down a few chairs. You follow closely behind him, dodging each seat as it pushes against his hip and springs back. He finally plops down into one towards the back left corner, and you slump into the one to his left.

In that moment, you hear a door towards the front of the hall clammer open, and in walks an older gentleman, dressed in a gray tweed suit and a brown briefcase gripped firmly to his side. He walks confidently, his head of grayed hair and stern face held high as he makes his way to the podium at the front of the class.

“He’s a great professor, from what I’ve heard,” Josh whispers to you as he leans forward and pulls a black notebook from his bag. “But he grades a bit tough.”

“Then why are we sitting all the way in the back?” you ask with a laugh as you follow suit, also pulling a notebook and pen from your bag. “Isn’t it statistically proven that students who sit in the back do the worst?”

“Don’t worry about your statistics,” he jests back, flashing you a grin and a wink. “I wouldn’t get to guide you through the basics if we sat at the front, we’d be too disruptive.”

You nod, noting how his voice seems to naturally carry itself, and you’re already a bit anxious that people can hear you, even though the closest person is at least five rows in front of you.

“Plus, all we gotta do is get the information and study together in the library at least once a week, and we’ll be golden?”

You blush, turning to him to look him in the eye.

“Are you already planning our study dates? I just met you fifteen minutes ago, who said I’d be studying with you?” you joke, and you’re impressed with your ability to flirt.

His eyes widen, a devious smirk crossing his face.

“Of course you are,” he says matter of factly, tapping his pen against the slab of wood above his lap. “I’ve already got it all planned out. You won’t be able to survive this place without me.”

☽ ✩ ☾

It’s about 6pm when you’re finally pulling into your driveway, your eyelids heavy with sleepiness. To your surprise, you find your aunt in the garden, bent over and fiddling with one of the plants, a wicker basket full of a variety of vegetables at her side.

“I’m home,” you call out, and she pops her head up in surprise.

“Oh, wonderful!” she leaps up, standing up to brush the soil off her knees and walking over to you. “I was just getting a few veggies for dinner, we’re having stew. I’ve already got some tomatoes simmering inside.”

“That sounds fantastic,” you smile, your stomach grumbling at the thought of dinner, having not eaten since Josh's granola bar.

“Go get washed up, and you can tell me all about your day, I can’t wait to hear about it,” she sings, motioning you inside.

Thirty minutes later, you are sitting at your dinner table with a big bowl of steaming stew and a slice of fresh garlic bread.

“So, did everything go well?” Aunt Edith asks, sliding into the seat across from you with her own bowl.

“Oh my gosh,” you beam, mixing around the hearty chunks of potatoes and carrots with your spoon. “It was amazing. I got a little lost when I first got there, but this really nice boy helped me find my way around.”

You blush a bit when Aunt Edith raises her eyebrows at you with the word boy.

“His name is Josh, and I feel like we’re gonna be good friends.”

“Is he handsome?” She asks, clearly not able to help herself.

“I mean…” Your face grows warm as you take your first bite of stew. “Sure, he is. He has a really nice smile, and a cute head of curls. But it’s not like I’m looking to date — not yet, at least. That’s definitely skipping a few steps in my independence, and I think I need to get my bearings first.”

“Good,” your aunt says, smiling between bites.”I’m glad that’s how you’re going about this. Better to play it safe.”

You nod, but you can’t help the tingly feeling that arises in your stomach at the thought of where your newfound friendship could go.

You make it to bed at around eleven after doing a few introductory discussion posts for your art history class. You find it fun getting to write a little blurb about yourself, mentioning your love of romance novels and gardening. You scroll through a few of the posts already listed, your heart leaping when you find the one you were looking for.

Greetings, my name is Josh and I’m a second year student here at Acaber, studying classical history. In my free time, I enjoy indulging in a good film, attending one of our stunning theater productions, or perhaps debating the nuances of life with my fellow peers. I hope this semester goes swimmingly for everyone. Yasou!

☽ ✩ ☾

“You’ve finally found her,” Jake repeats as he stares up at the ceiling, the flame dancing across his features

��I have, and she’s everything we hoped for,” Josh replies, smiling down at his brother. “She’s strong, beautiful, and so smart. It’s going to take a bit more time for me to gain her trust, but we’re almost there. “

“Please.” Jake insists, turning his head to look at him. “There’s no rush, we’ve already come this far, and I don’t want her to feel betrayed and back out when you break the news to her. Let everything come naturally. Remember that she’s a gift, not just a tool used to fix our problems. I’ll be fine, just take your time.”

He sits up while trying to croak out the last comment, letting out a gravely cough into the crook of his elbow.

Though he knows Jake is trying to be strong, and he certainly has a good point, it’s becoming increasingly difficult for Josh to focus on anything other than getting his brother the hell out of, well, hell.

Even with the countless times Jake has told him to not worry, and that he’s fine, he knows he is struggling immensely at this point. They’re twins after all, and the perpetual weight of guilt for Jake’s pain sits in his chest like a heavy stone, making it hard to even breathe every time he looks at him.

He sees how much his demeanor has changed so much since the fateful night they were separated. He used to carry himself with such a jubilant confidence, a shimmer in his eyes that danced with mischief and a lust for thrill, which has now frosted over into dull gloom, worn by reparations for a sin that was not his own.

The heartache is what keeps Josh going, even though part of him worries that if it’s not done soon, it’ll be too late, that Jake will be withered to dust by the time he finally reaches him.

“I have to go,” Josh whispers, deciding to cut their meeting short, his voice almost catching in his throat as he holds himself together.

“See you later,” Jake sighs, his voice heavy with sleep, his eyelids slowly blinking closed. “I love you.”

Josh grabs the snuffer from the hook on the wall, looking at his brother one more time before extinguishing the flame with its cold metal bell.

“I love you too. We’ll be together again soon, I promise.”

And just like that, Josh is back in his room, hunched over at his study desk as he stares at the silver thread of smoke that dances above its charred wick, the sweet vanilla of their meeting tinged with a bitter, ashen goodbye.

#it's here!!!!!#let me know what u think my besties #so excited to finally be posting this #also let me know if i missed u in the taglist!!!#josh kiszka #jake kiszka #kiszka twins #kiszka twins fanfic #gvf fic #greta van fleet #greta van fleet fic #greta van fanfic #mine

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polar-stars · 6 years

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Can I just say...? #2 - About Chapter 278

So....EU agreed on Article 13 today and I am pretty bummed. I honestly don’t know anymore, but I might not be able to produce any content for the fandom anymore.

Again, I really don’t know how this’ll actually work and if it will have an affect on fanfiction and fan art, everyone is saying something different. But...there is possibility so to speak. I think I’ll surely not be able to make edits anymore though.

WHATEVER, I’ll use these last seconds of freedom from the Upload Filter to talk about a topic that has been on my heart since last Thursday now.

What am I talking about? Chapter 278 of Shokugeki no Soma. Or rather....The reactions to it.

So let’s start off right away after all my rambling about EU-Stuff: I did not like Chapter 278 and I don’t like the current arc as a whole as it is now.

Before you click away; may I give my explanation why?

Warning this is going to be all over the place as usual as I am basically just rambling off a ton of thoughts that have been on my mind most recently.

What I am going to say now is probably going to sound outrageous to many of you and I’m pretty sure I’ll not be a in a good place after the following statement, but I am just going to say it now:

The current arc feels like designed for a certain fanbase. And here’s the thing, if you’re not part of this fanbase....there is basically nothing to enjoy about this arc.

You have to absolutely love the couple of Soma and Erina to enjoy this arc. Their relationship has to be at least 60% of the reason why you’re even reading the manga.

And that’s my problem: Soma’s and Erina’s relationship is not my priority in this manga. Frankly, I never truly cared all that much with who Soma is going to end up with to be honest. My preference had always been Erina and I do love these two together, but I would be fine if it would be Megumi or heck, even Mayumi. Because, simply put, I do not read Shokugeki no Soma to see Soma and Erina end up together.

Now I know that not everyone thinks that way and by all means, I don’t want to shove my point of view down other people’s throat. If the relationship of two of the main characters has a huge impact on your enjoyment on the manga and your reasoning for reading it, then that’s fine by me honestly. I just want to offer a different viewpoint.

Because, people who enjoy the current arc, really take a look into it and maybe try to put yourself into the position of a person that doesn’t even has to necessarily hate Sorina or something, they are just not overly excited about it perhaps or don’t care about shipping in general, and try to find anything that is enjoyable about this arc aside from Soma’s and Erina’s moments. Anything.

To go a bit further, I’d like to explain what my main issue is at the moment.

You see, I personally read Shokugeki mostly because of it’s cast, all of their colorful personalities and their fun interactions with each other. And to people like me this arc is more than frustrating.

I want to get two things out of the way immediately.

1. The saying goes around that “The side characters get no attention” is an argument used by salty SouMegu shipper who just want to disguise their real reasoning for hating this arc, which would be: “This arc is all about my NOTP”. And this is one of the problems this fandom has: You’re all so caught up in shipping that some of you fail to realize that the sidelining of the rest of the cast is a real issue. I’m going to explain why in a second. But really: Not everything has to be about ships alright. Also, I am not a hardcore SouMegu shipper. I don’t mind SouMegu, but I always preferred Sorina. So no, I am not a salty SouMegu shipper who wants to disguise her real reasoning. And believe me, some of the people you’re accusing for that are not doing it either. Again, the sidelining of the characters is a real issue.

2. No this is also not about me being bitchy because “!! My favorite characters (The Polar Star Dormitory Students) don’t get any screentiiiiiime!! Now I am mad!!”. Believe it or not, but I am actually quite advanced in having side characters as my favorite characters and I am perfectly fine with seeing them on the side because I am aware of their role in the story. I was also able to enjoy the Autumn Election Arc and the Stagiares and the Moon Banquet Festival. While I would not mind a little bit of development at all. Also Tsukuda has dropped hints that there could happen some development with Shun Ibusaki at least but...People just forget I think. I would be fine if it didn’t happen at this point.

The big problem is that most of the cast has barely gotten any development since Central Arc started.

While Central was still happening within school, they were at least around but most of them didn’t do anything of much significance.

Then half of the cast was expelled and doomed to stay in the shadows doing nothing for over a year. While the cast that was allowed to stay received garbage treatment, except for Soma and Erina.

Now the cast is basically dead. Some of the girls are allowed to have little cameos here, but we rarely see anyone these days and we have basically no idea what’s happening in the life of the other people.

And this is my issue. I am going to be brutally honest now, excuse me, but Soma and Erina are just simply not very interesting to me right now. Easy as that.

Why?

A. They’re, again, not my main reason for reading this manga.

B. They are the ones who received a ton of screen time and a ton of development most recently.

I do realize that they’re the main characters but is it that hard to let them take the backseat for a bit, to leave some room for the characters that really do need development right now? It’s my humble opinion that Erina’s and Soma’s romance can be saved for later.

Let’s talk about how undeveloped most of the cast is:

1. Alice - Back in the Autumn Elections, Alice’s problem was that she was way too focused on making the dish as spectacular as possible that she lost a little bit of sight of the actual topic. Now, normally you’d show that she had learned from that mistake and is now a better chef than back then. But did we see any of that? No. So she can still be further developed.

2. Hisako - Could still be a lot more ambitious and actually try to fight her way to the top.

3. Ryo - For Ryo having so much focus time during the AE, we still know very little about him. How the hell did he end up in a pub in Denmark while having a Japanese surname? What happened.

4. Takumi - Still didn’t had a Shokugeki with Soma, despite it being the first thing he mentioned when appearing. Still no Mezzaluna. 7th Seat even though he participated in the RDC.

5. Ikumi - Has sadly become very irrelevant in these days and is almost a carbon copy of her former self. It’s like she is only defined by her crush for Soma nowadays and is just there to make fun of.

6. Isami - Basically still stands in the shadows of his brother.

7. PSD + Nao and Miyoko - Nothing since the AE premlins.

A good example of how badly the cast is treated right now is the Neo Elite Ten: We basically know nothing about how this seating even happened. Why was Subaru kicked out, despite participating in the RDC?

Also.

How exactly did Nene and Eizan end up there?

Nene at least showed hints of a change of heart throughout RDC (but then again, would be nice to see if she actually changed from her match with Soma and is now not as tradition-focused as back then) but Eizan?!

Like excuse me if I am missing something here, but this character was pretty much a horrible person throughout the manga. He was a major antagonist.

Like don’t get me wrong, I have no problem with him redeeming himself (cause I actually like Eizan, believe it or not) but come on, you can’t tell that this is in any way good writing: “Yeah, I am just going to take one of the biggest assholes and just make him join the good guys out of the sudden. No one will notice!” Like, I am not asking for an immediate, detailed explanation on how in the world Eizan redeemed himself but.....some exposition would be nice??! Am I really the only person who sees the glossing over the redemption of a major antagonist as a problem?

Basically: There is so much else we could be focusing on right now (There is also this “Handpicked Jewels Thing”....Yeah remember that one?) but what are we focusing on? Introducing another villain character (even though the first one was not the most well-received one), making him eat up a ton of screen time and giving the rest of the screen time to Soma and Erina, even though we just had a year-long arc (only counting the RDC mind you) that gave them a ton of screen time and put the side characters into the shadows. And for what: A love triangle story.

And yeah, I guess if you love Sorina to death you can look over these issues and still have a great time. I admit that their balcony moment was cute. But my problem still remains, I don’t care that much about it.

I could be a lot more forgiving if the plot was actually good, but it’s not in my opinion. So I just can’t enjoy it. I am sorry.

“Tsukuda is still the author he can do whatever he wants.”

Yeah.

I know that this post is not going to change Tsukuda’s writing. But people, Tsukuda is still an author. Authors do get criticism. All the time. Just as movie directors do and artists and actors etc. etc.

And yeah he can do whatever he wants, doesn’t mean that I have to like it.

“Well if you don’t like it, don’t read it.”

//sighs.

Okay listen, I could have said the exact same thing to all the people who were ranting over and over back when the Hot Spring Arc was happening. They were equally as frustrated as some of us are now.

Why didn’t they stop reading?

Maybe you should consider why we are frustrated and why we do not like this arc instead of just feeling personally attacked because we’re criticizing an arc that happens to push your OTP a lot.

Most of us do care a lot about Shokugeki no Soma. Watching through the anime back then is still a wonderful, enchanting memory to me that I am very fond of to be honest. I support it in any way that is possible to me. I buy the German edition of the manga, I bought the German edition of the anime + it’s absolutely wonderful German dub. I bought a little bit of merchandise already and plan to buy more.

I love this manga and it’s characters with all my heart and seeing it going so downhill is actually quite hurtful okay. And I mostly shut up about it because I hate to mess with people and I hate raining on other people’s parades.

But seeing how many excuses are made up to defend this arc and everything is immediately linked to shipping and people who happen to not like this arc are immediately “Megumi/SouMegu”-Fans who are just bitter is getting exhausting.

Because again. There is literally nothing in this arc except Sorina. The side characters are dead, the exam was glossed over, we don’t even know what has changed on Totsuki now that Erina is headmaster except for the fact that everyone is on a challenge-spree and I find it....almost a little bit unfair to the readership that picked up this manga for it’s food, it’s wide cast, it’s interesting battles, it’s light-heartedness...y’know the things that the manga was about back in the days. It was perfectly functioning fine without much romance.

And yeah, romance was inevitable. But what’s currently going on is not exactly very well-written and the bitterness also comes from general tiredness from the last arc already.

Enjoy it all you want! I am not blaming you okay. But stop acting like all criticism is invalid because it’s because of shipping bias.

Take the shipping goggles off for a second and stop seeing everything black and white.

That’s all I have to say on that matter.

I am sorry if I sounded a little harsh at some points and I really did not intend to attack anyone in particular. I am just tired of seeing valid, negative opinions about the current chapter being brushed off as invalid.

In the end we all have our own opinions and the right to enjoy whatever we like.

And hey, on a positive note: Maybe Erina’s kindapping will lead to an Elite 10 Battle against Azami’s crew so maybe at least a little bit of development will happen.

Have a good day/night and treat yourself right.

#Shokugeki no Soma #Shokugeki no Souma #Gofer Rambles #Why did I do this??#.....I am honestly almost a little scared

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