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animepopheart · 3 years

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Wonder Egg Priority, Episode 11: “The Temptation of Death”?

Wonder Egg Priority is a beautiful, uncomfortable, moving and confusing series that starts out engaging all the things we don’t talk about—self-harm, abuse, rape, bullying, gender dysmorphia, and homosexuality, to name a few. Our silence and blindness to these issues have a weight and pressure to them, and WEP shows how this reinforces the isolation and hopelessness of the young women of the “eggs” who turn to suicide for relief. The first ten episodes have been exhilarating and exhausting alike.

And then there is Episode 11. This past week, the series took a bit of a turn, leaning hard into the sci-fi-philosophical, with appearances from Greek gods, a murderous artificial intelligence, and really, really disturbing insect girls, one of whom, despite being a brutal killer, is apparently a vegetarian. Has the show gone off the rails? Has it lost its way in departing from the familiar procedural approach of engaging a differing social or mental health issue with each episode?

Such a critique is perfectly legit, but before you write off the penultimate episode of WEP, just hear me out on why the abstract, meta turn in episode 11 may just be the most valuable thing this series has to offer so far.

Before we begin though, a little recap of what we learned this week. In episode 10, we hear the eggheads, Acca and Ura-Acca, discuss the need for warriors of Eros to battle Thanatos. This is our first hint that things are about to get lore-full and maybe a bit weird. Eros and Thanatos are of course gods in the ancient Greek pantheon, Eros being the god of love, and Thanatos, of non-violent death. Within the first minute or so of episode 11, it’s clear that the eggheads’ hope is now focused on Ai becoming the long-awaited warrior. At this point though, rather than continuing with Ai’s story, the episode shifts into flashback mode and we are finally introduced to the villain, an artificial intelligence created by the eggheads back when they were still human. Their lives gradually come to revolve around her: She is the fulfillment of their obsession to create life, and she is good.

Frill is associated with hydrangeas, which symbolise heartlessness and pride in Japanese flower language. But is it her heartlessness and pride, or that of her makers?

(Atelier Emily has done an outstanding series of posts on the flowers in WEP. Check it out!)

Only, it turns out she doesn’t play so nice when others join the happy family. After killing Acca’s wife, and putting the life of the unborn baby at risk, the AI—who named herself Frill—is unrepentant, all traces of her seeming humanity now revealed to be illusory, a mere affectation. Acca locks her away in a hole in the cellar. Years pass. The baby, Himari, grows up and is a ray of sunshine. But after effectively confessing to her ‘uncle’ (why does anime always do this?), she commits suicide. Ura-Acca discovers that Frill is still very much alive and active from her hole in the cellar, having powered up all the discarded monitors and laid down reams of electrical cables—to what end, we do not yet know. Though Ura-Acca surmises that she has somehow influenced Himari to take her own life. How else would the girl have known about Ura-Acca’s admiration for her mother? Where else would she have learned to make what will forever be to me now that uncannily sinister popping sound?

Here’s where it gets weirder. Unlike the suicides of subsequent egg girls, there is no indication that Himari, Frill’s apparent first victim, struggled with any mental health or other issues that would motivate her to take her own life. Indeed, her ‘uncle’ did not even reject her confession. (Again anime, why you do this thing?) Instead, the eggheads explain Himari’s suicide as being on account of the “temptation of death.” What now?

This is implying that death is somehow attractive, not just to someone facing overwhelming brokenness, trauma or pain, like the egg girls we’ve met so far, but to someone on the verge of stepping from a (relatively) happy childhood into young adulthood, with the promise of potential love to look forward to; someone who has not known suffering, but rather only smiles and cake. (To be fair, it is always possible that she experienced trauma in the womb, or was more deeply affected by her father’s sadness than Ura-Acca’s memories belie.)

That’s my question too, Ai.

The notion of death as somehow attractive or even beautiful is rather alien to Western culture. Certainly, there will always be some who romanticize death, à la star-crossed lovers (Shakespeare, I’m looking at you). But in general, Western culture views death as something ugly and frightening, something to avoid until it is staring you directly in the face, and even then, closing your eyes in denial is a perfectly reasonable response. Death is one of those things we don’t talk about. In my experience, Anglo-American culture is not very good at even mourning death. We lack the grieving rituals and observances of other cultures, and instead seek to confine death to the sealed, sanitized spaces of hospitals, care homes, and funeral parlors. We keep it shrouded tightly in silence. How could there ever be anything like the “temptation of death”? How could we ever consider death to be something desirable? Are the eggheads or CloverWorks simply aestheticising suicide and death here to make it sound deep and philosophical?

No, I don’t think that’s it. Instead, Acca and Ura-Acca are doing what all good researchers do—and indeed what all Christians, as believers in an unseen spiritual reality, are also called to do: They are looking more deeply into phenomena that seem, on the surface, to already be explained. The two idol fans were consumed with their obsession, so when their idol killed herself, they followed suit. The young woman whose identity was wrapped up in her own appearance ended her life to preserve her beauty. The abused gymnast saw no way out, no hope in ever living free from torment. Some explanations may be more sympathetic than others, but they all possess their own internal logic. Contemporary society is full of a vast array of pressures and stresses and each one, taken to breaking point, can result in death. Case closed. This might very well be our conclusion from the first ten episodes.

Only the case isn’t closed. Because there is a question that has pervaded every episode until now, but has remained unspoken: How is it that death could even become an option for the egg girls? Why does reaching a breaking point trigger suicide? What made death seem like a savior to these girls? This is the question that episode 11 tackles, in its own admittedly obscure way. The eggheads are focused on the underlying, deeper reality that unites all the eggs’ stories, as disparate as they are—the common thread, which is the idea that death is a release, a rescue, a beautiful ending, and as a result, it is tempting.

“But we wondered if there could be another push that drove them to suicide,” explains Ura-Acca.

This is a really important question for us to be asking. Because it’s not just these traumatized, vulnerable girls who fall for the seduction of death. We do, too.

Just ponder for a moment: Have you ever anticipated how wonderful it will be when, in heaven, you no longer struggle with that particular temptation? When your temper is no longer so short, when you’re not afraid of being hurt anymore? Or maybe you think about how one day, on those gold-paved streets, you won’t have to worry anymore. All your hard work coping and just keeping it together will finally pay off and you’ll cross that finish line and heave a sigh of relief, knowing that you made it in the end. Have you ever contemplated these kinds of things? I know I have.

But here’s the thing: When I expect my liberation to come only after I die and not right here, right now, then it is not Jesus who is my savior, but death. I am waiting for death to free me from temptation and sin and fear and brokenness, and usher me into eternal life. I make Thanatos my god.

The temptation of death is not limited to the drastic act of suicide, but also permeates all the accusations and fears that inspire us to put off living the fullness of life in Christ here and now. It’s the temptation to believe that it is death that will ultimately solve the more difficult and painful problems in life.

Acca and Ura-Acca seek to create a love that suits their ideals, just to relieve their stress.

The source of this “temptation of death” in Wonder Egg Priority is Frill, the AI. That is, a man-made, artificial version of love—with ai meaning “love” in Japanese. According to Ura-Acca, they made her “just for fun,” as a way of dealing with the stress of their enclosed lives. They designed her to suit their preferences, to make it easier to love her and forget that she was artificial. In this sense, Frill is the fruit of their self-centeredness, her every characteristic designed to satisfy their own ideals of how a daughter and woman should be. And this artificial love born of selfishness brings death into their midst and beyond, spreading it through the horrendous deformities of girlhood that she in turn creates, in imitation of her fathers. (Only perhaps her creations are less deceptive than theirs, wearing their monstrosity plainly on the outside…)

Frill’s creations. We’ve met Dash (right) and Dot (center), but who is that on the left? And is her name Morse??

To counter her destructive influence, Acca and Ura-Acca need true love, a genuine love. They need Ai, a messy, at times very weak human being, but one who nevertheless is willing to fight to live up to her name and maybe, just maybe, become a warrior of Eros.

There is also a deep, underlying force at work in our world, one that connects all despair and the actions born of it. A wide range of social issues, traumas and mental health challenges can and do trigger suicide, but they do not explain it fully. The deeper reality is the existence of an enemy who seeks to manipulate us into believing our true savior can only be death, whether it is right away by our own hand, or more subtly, decades from now by natural causes. But this is a lie, and it is one that we can combat. Just as I’m sure we’ll see in the final episode that Ai is equipped to wage the coming battle in WEP, so too are we armed, here and now, with the power to overwhelm the enemy’s “temptation of death”—we possess already the words of life, given to us by our true savior.

Jesus began his ministry with a public announcement that he had come to heal heart wounds, comfort those in pain, fill broken lives with beauty, and wrap those in despair with reasons to praise like a warm protective blanket, so that they might celebrate with joy once again. He came to bring freedom to prisoners and captives alike, giving a fresh new life to those locked up because of deeds done wrong, and those punished and injured at the hands of others. He came to take the outcasts, the weak, the traumatized and broken and transform them into mighty oaks, clean and strong; into people with the vision and skill and compassion and fortitude to rebuild a broken world (Isaiah 61:1-4, Luke 4:18),

He came to rewrite and restore our experience of life here on earth, and through us, to redeem our communities, cities, nations, and the world. God does not withhold the fullness of life from us until we finally make it to him in heaven. No, instead he moved heaven and earth to get right up close so that he could pour his own life out into us, even going so far as to breathe his very spirit into our hearts and bodies and minds. We don’t need to wait for death’s rescue—our hero has already come. But we do need to remind each other and ourselves of this truth pretty often, and let it work down deep into all the cracks and bruises in our souls until it strengthens all our weak spots.

In Deuteronomy 30:19, God tells the Israelites that he has given them the authority to choose between life and death. But he also tips the balances in their favor, urging them to choose life. In Jesus, he comes to tip the balances even further, making it possible for us to step into eternal life here and now, immediately and forever. So let’s do it. Each day, through each struggle we face. Let’s choose life and not death.

Warrior of love? And is Ai’s himawari (sunflower) related to Himari somehow?

Join me (in spirit) for the final episode on Tuesday to see Ai’s love triumph! (At least, I really really hope that’s what happens!)

#wonder egg priority #wep #wep frill #ai ohto #Christianity #blog #NOT by me but rather by one of our other writers: cajk2

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becomewings · 3 years

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The Most Beautiful Moment in Life <I’M FINE>

BTS Universe Story Highlights, pt. 3 / 4

« pt. 2 | » pt. 4

Introduction

The following sections for JiMin’s and HoSeok’s arcs are 4.5k and 4k, respectively. As with pt.2 of the series, I have included “tl;dr commentary” at the bottom of the post after a section of additional thoughts. This commentary summarizes the parenthetical asides I made throughout the summaries and may be of interest as standalone reading to those who have already played the game yet would like to review its connections to the BU texts and MVs.

Content warning: contains references to death, suicide, suicidal ideation, child abuse, domestic violence, blood, homicide, depression, trauma, PTSD

This guide contains major spoilers and includes references to other BU media

Do not repost, copy, or quote without permission

Stopped Time

SeokJin’s primary goal in JiMin’s story is to free him from the hospital psychiatric ward to which his parents have him committed before he gives up on life. Much like his sudden, unexplained absence in The Notes 1, JiMin is not even present in the first two episodes except for an introductory cutscene. In a hospital hallway on an unspecified date, he plays on the colored tiles and stops when he reaches “the line” by the exit door. (This line marks the end of the psychiatric ward and is first described in his 11 May Year 22 entry in The Notes 1.) Everything goes black except for JiMin and the door. A nurse taps him on the shoulder, bringing him back to reality, and hands him pills.

The playable story begins on 22 April Year 22 with SeokJin attending a meeting organized by the patrons of the Songho Foundation. Seo HyunJung, the city’s Deputy Mayor, suggested it to SeokJin’s father, Kim ChangJun, at the inauguration ceremony. (SeokJin attends the inauguration ceremony on 11 April in many loops; it plays out in episode 2 of JungKook’s arc.) SeokJin scans over the crowd, reflecting that while the pretext of the meeting is to discuss community development, in reality it is a social gathering to advance individual careers. These sessions make him uncomfortable, but this time he is attending of his own accord with the intention of meeting someone.

This someone is a woman who actually approaches him first, introducing herself as Sim SeonMi. SeokJin knows that she is JiMin’s mother. He has met her in previous loops but needs to pretend that this is their first time meeting. His goal is to bring up JiMin naturally and persuade her to discharge him from the hospital. Before he can broach the subject, the high school principal, Jo JinMyung, joins them. SeokJin uses his arrival as an opportunity to bring up school and guide the conversation toward JiMin by first asking if they know each other. “We’ve met a few times at gatherings. I was told her child used to be a student at our school,” answers Jo JinMyung. “Ah, really? I attended Jeil High too,” says SeokJin. Sim SeonMi looks taken aback, and he asks for her child’s name. She tries to avoid the question by saying that they probably won’t know each other due to their age gap, but when pressed again she relents. “His name is Park JiMin.” “I know JiMin! We were close. Is JiMin doing okay?” SeokJin responds brightly, wondering if she will provide an empty lie. Instead, she excuses herself with the claim that she needs to greet someone else.

SeokJin quickly wraps up with the principal and begins to casually approach her again. He stops when he overhears two women mention her name. “There’s no gathering she doesn’t attend these days. Looks like her husband’s star is on the rise, thanks to her efforts…” The player has the choice to listen quietly or butt in. If SeokJin stands by, they speculate that she was invited because her husband’s company is one of the patrons. If he interrupts, they caution him to stay away from her. In both routes, SeokJin learns that Sim SeonMi doesn’t have the best reputation and that rumors of her hospitalized son are spreading. Their blame on her helps explain what underlay her hysteric responses in previous loops.

Though it’s uncomfortable, SeokJin reapproaches her when she is alone. She greets him a little coldly. “You don’t have to be so formal to me. I’m JiMin’s friend,” he assures. “Is that so? How friendly you are.” Sim SeonMi smiles awkwardly and keeps looking elsewhere as though for an escape. “It would’ve been nice if JiMin’s father was here… He’ll join me another time, so you can say hello to him then.” “Yes. I’ll make sure to bring my father along then,” SeokJin replies, hoping to snag her attention. Her eyes change at the mention of his father. “Shall we do that, then? It’ll be even better with the Assemblyman.” SeokJin brings up JiMin again by either asking if he still attends Jeil High or how he’s doing. Her uneasy answers are “These days? Yes… Of course” or “...He’s fine,” respectively. SeokJin requests JiMin’s phone number, rendering her silent for a long moment. “That’s a bit difficult. I’m not sure I can give out JiMin’s contact information without his approval.” SeokJin attempts to convince her by stating that they were close friends in school yet lost contact when he studied abroad. But all he gets from her is, “Then I’ll ask JiMin, and make sure to contact you if he says it’s okay.” Sim SeonMi taps him on the shoulder and quickly walks away.

By 25 April, SeokJin still hasn’t heard from JiMin’s mother, so he decides to visit her and reveal that he knows JiMin was admitted to an inpatient psychiatric ward. Uncle JunHo, his father’s secretary, intercepts him before he leaves the house and asks where he’s going. SeokJin either answers that he is heading to school or meeting a friend to work on assignments. He declines a ride from JunHo in the first path but can’t conjure an excuse to not accept in the second. In both, JunHo comments that it’s not easy being the family of a public official and that he noticed SeokJin engaged in a long conversation with Sim SeonMi at the meeting. SeokJin explains that she is his friend’s mother, and JunHo advises him not to get too friendly with her because she doesn’t have a great reputation. In the second path, he also adds information about JiMin’s father that catches SeokJin’s attention because he has not heard anything about the man. Apparently Park JinWook is one of the foundation’s board members. ‘He’s pretty remarkable. He entered as a researcher and became a board member… The one thing that people like him want most is connections,” JunHo muses. He cautions SeokJin to “be wary of any advances [he] can see the intent of.”

The scene cuts to the exterior of an apartment building after SeokJin has either driven himself or been dropped off nearby by JunHo. He considers the public assessment of JiMin’s mother: she works hard to elevate her husband’s status but ignores her own son in favor of the family’s reputation. Sim SeonMi happens to step outside before SeokJin enters the building. She looks wary when he says, “I haven’t heard from you, so I decided to come see you myself.” In an effort to persuade her, SeokJin begins with either “I want to see JiMin” or “I came to see you because I know everything.” In the first path, she lies about not getting in touch with JiMin yet because he is studying abroad in the U.S. SeokJin is stunned by this egregious falsehood. “From what I’ve heard… JiMin’s locked up in a hospital. He’s at the Gyeong Il Hospital, isn’t he?” A similar reaction occurs in the second path from the point of SeokJin mentioning the hospital. Sim SeonMi hardens and objects to the phrase “locked up,” stating that JiMin is an inpatient because he is sick. “SeokJin, I appreciate that you’re worried about JiMin… But I’m his mother, and that means I know what’s best for him.” The paths converge as she tries to leave, claiming they have nothing left to discuss. Persuading her to release JiMin from the hospital seems impossible. “I’ll look into it on my own. I’m going to see JiMin, no matter how hard you try to stop me,” SeokJin warns. Sim SeonMi glares at him, voice low and cold. “‘SeokJin. If I can give you a word of advice… Adults have reasons for everything they do. You should forget about this.”

The beginning of episode 3 visits JiMin’s perspective on 27 April. He has relocated temporarily to the surgical ward due to an injured wrist. After treatment, he returns to his hospital room to find his mother arranging some items she brought. JiMin approaches nervously, wondering if she thinks he has caused a problem again. “It doesn’t look too bad, thankfully,” she remarks, glancing at his wrist. Her concern is unfamiliar yet welcome. “Do you know a Kim SeokJin? He said he attended Jeil High.” The mention of SeokJin surprises JiMin, but he tries to answer passively because of her angry tone. “Yes, but why are you suddenly ask—” “Did you contact him?” Sim SeonMi interrupts, halting her organizing to stare at him. “Why are you so immature? Do you ever think of anyone outside of here?” Injury throbbing, JiMin doesn’t know how to respond. “If you want to leave, tell me why you’re doing this. Tell me instead of embarrassing me by contacting some random person! Is that why you hurt your wrist? To rebel?” she demands. JiMin tries to explain this isn’t true, but she doesn’t listen. “I’m really tired, too. How many years has it been? How long do I have to suffer because of you?” Sim SeonMi leaves, the rant having done little to expend her anger. JiMin knows that her worries are pointed at herself, not at him; he is someone who makes life harder for her. He decides not to talk about anything else because he doesn’t want to make things even more difficult for her.

The story cuts to SeokJin loitering outside Gyeong Il Hospital, mulling over what action to take since JiMin is moving out of the surgical ward that day. (The date is unspecified in the game, but in The Notes 1, he is scheduled to return to the psychiatric ward on 16 May.) SeokJin knows that he will be the first suspect if JiMin disappears now and that he must act carefully since he was unable to persuade JiMin’s mother. As the day grows dark, he spots Sim SeonMi rushing into the hospital on her second visit. SeokJin hurries after her, worried that something happened to JiMin. The panicked voices of a medical team emerge from JiMin’s room. Doctors crowd around someone laying on the bed. “No, JiMin!” SeokJin hears Sim SeonMi scream followed by the sound of shattering glass.

The loop resets, and the game rejoins SeokJin on 10 May standing at a road and reflecting on the last failure. “If JiMin isn’t saved while he’s in the surgical ward, he makes his choice days after he returns to the closed ward. But it happened too quickly this time. What pushed him?” he wonders. He recalls Sim SeonMi’s final words before the loop ended. “No, JiMin! I’m sorry. I was wrong! You can see your friends; you can do anything you want… So please, open your eyes!” SeokJin realizes that he may have caused Sim SeonMi to act out of the ordinary, which in turn affected JiMin’s choice. It’s his fault, and he made JiMin suffer more. He thinks, “Even though I’ve experienced losing my friends before… No matter how many times it repeats… It never gets any easier.” SeokJin decides to abandon persuading JiMin’s mother to avoid provoking her and reverts his plan to sneaking JiMin out like in earlier loops. But first, he must focus on a more pressing issue—rescuing HoSeok after he collapses on the bridge that day.

After a cut, HoSeok awakens in SeokJin’s car and is shocked to see him. “Wow, is it really you? How long has it been?” “Lean on me for a bit longer. You didn’t hurt yourself when you fell?” SeokJin checks. HoSeok assures him that he’s all right and asks how SeokJin saw him. When SeokJin says he was just passing by, HoSeok remarks, “Wow! That’s so weird. Thanks for saving me.” It’s the first time SeokJin has heard something like this. He remembers JiMin in a previous loop telling him, “This is where I should be.” Does JiMin really want to leave the hospital? SeokJin believed that he did, but now he’s less confident. “HoSeok. If you had someone in front of you who wanted to die because living was too difficult… What would you do?” he asks. HoSeok answers without hesitation, “Well, I would help them.” “Even if that person doesn’t want my help?” says SeokJin. “ Isn’t helping them the right thing to do? Even if you don’t know why they want to die… They need to keep living for something to change,” HoSeok muses.

SeokJin drops HoSeok off at Two Star Burger before returning to the hospital alone, his friend’s words sticking with him. Even though JiMin isn’t guaranteed to be happy when he leaves the hospital, he needs to stay alive to have even the opportunity for happiness. Still uncertain how to proceed, SeokJin heads to the hospital lounge to organize his thoughts before visiting JiMin. Through an open door, he spots JiMin trudging down a hallway. SeokJin either calls out to him or watches him, but the latter is the result regardless because JiMin doesn’t hear him in the first path. JiMin stares at the door as people come and go and eventually returns to his room.

On 7 May, JiMin roams the hallways of the 5th floor surgical ward. He was moved there about ten days earlier after he ran into someone and fell. The surgical ward is not too different from the psychiatric one: the hallway is a little longer, and it has a lounge in the middle. But the freedom to move around in this space brings him joy that he doesn’t have in the psychiatric ward. He even wanders around at night when no one is around and dances in the lounge. Despite this newfound freedom, his body stops at the same point in the hallway—where the psychiatric ward ends four floors above him. After reaching his line again, JiMin returns to his room. He assumes a student occupied the bed before him because he finds a forgotten workbook in the nearby drawers. Remembering that he used this workbook in school, he flips through and reads the notes scribbled in the margins. “I want to go to a PC cafe, too…” he murmurs, spotting the note “wanna go to the PC cafe later?” JiMin finds a haphazardly folded paper tucked into the pages and unfolds it curiously. “Career… plan?”

The story cuts to 10 May with SeokJin, from a hidden vantage point, watching JiMin sit in the hospital lounge and read a book. It reminds him of their days in the classroom hideout. “He seems okay right now.” SeokJin receives a call from Uncle JunHo about the scheduling of a Songho Foundation seminar. During their conversation, a loudspeaker announcement summons JiMin to the 2nd floor physical therapy room. He drops the book and runs out of the lounge. Once finished with the call, SeokJin tries to find the book JiMin was reading. He doesn’t see it among those scattered around the lounge and thinks that JiMin must’ve had a reason to hide it. Hoping it will provide him a clue to understanding his friend, SeokJin hunts around either the window or trash can with no luck before turning to the vending machine. After scooting a bookcase out of the way, he is finally able to rescue the item. SeokJin deduces that the workbook doesn’t belong to JiMin because it’s Year 2 material and JiMin was admitted to the hospital in his first year. He finds the detached sheet with two different types of handwriting and determines which belongs to JiMin. The game provides a quick flashback shot of JiMin filling out the paper. “Aspiring Career Path: Will I be able to go to university too? Scholastic Activities: What should I learn in Year 2… Extracurricular Activities: Join the dance club HoSeok started.” SeokJin wonders what JiMin felt as he wrote in the answers. He considers how JiMin people-watched from the hallway and looked happy reading the workbook. “You want to leave, don’t you?” SeokJin thinks. “Let’s get out of here. So you can be the one to decide what kind of life you want to live.” He resolves to break JiMin free.

On 11 May, JiMin stops at the invisible line in the hallway again. He stares at the door before turning around and bumping into someone. He is shocked speechless when he realizes that it’s SeokJin. The next episode continues from this moment but switches to SeokJin’s perspective. He calms JiMin down before bringing him to the lounge, giving the excuse that he was in the hospital to visit someone else. JiMin’s cheeks are hollowed, his hands skinnier than normal. SeokJin wonders if he can inspire JiMin to act if he tells him that he’ll be able to do all of the things he wrote on the career plan once he leaves the hospital. He either asks, “JiMin, are you injured?” or “How long have you been in the hospital?” In both paths, JiMin refers to his wrist injury and the time he’s been in the surgical ward rather than the psychiatric one. He looks grim when he can’t give a proper answer to either “When do you get discharged?” or “Are you sick?” “I think I have to go now. It’s almost time for treatment, too…” JiMin stands to leave, avoiding his gaze. SeokJin rushes after him and blocks his path, knowing this might be their last chance to speak if they say goodbye already. “JiMin, I’m here because I know everything. You want to leave this place, don’t you? You’ve been here for two years.” JiMin steps back but doesn’t run away. “I just happened to hear… how your mother locked you in the psychiatric ward,” SeokJin explains. JiMin shakes his head with a frightened expression. “No. I’m here because I’m sick.” His eyes falter when SeokJin presses, “JiMin, I can help you. Let’s get out of here together.”

Short flashbacks play from JiMin’s perspective alongside his thoughts: “At first, I wanted to leave. I called my mom and cried until my voice went hoarse, asking her to take me home. That I didn’t want to stay here. But she didn’t listen. Because this is where I should be…” Aloud, JiMin speaks in a voice that sounds like he has given up on everything. “Even if I leave, I’ll eventually come back.” SeokJin shakes his head. “What’s important is how you feel. JiMin, you really want to stay here? That’s okay with you?” Depending on the players’ choice, he either continues, “Do you really not have anything you want to do?” or “‘You really want to stay here in the hospital?” In the first path, SeokJin tries to remind him of something he must want to do like studying or dancing. “I don’t… have anything like that,” JiMin lies. In the second path, JiMin says it’s better for him in the hospital because outside people treat him like a freak. SeokJin remembers the women whispering about Sim SeonMi and her hospitalized son at the Songho Foundation meeting. In both paths, JiMin is pale and shaky. SeokJin decides to ask one more time. “You don’t want to go outside and see your friends?” JiMin seems to perk up at the mention of “friends,” but he does not respond or lift his gaze. SeokJin’s parting words are, “Think about it, JiMin… I’ll come back to visit again.”

The next day (12 May), SeokJin reflects on his failure to persuade both JiMin and his mother. “What can I do to help JiMin get over his fear and gain courage?” he wonders. The career plan comes to mind again with JiMin’s notes of college, studying, and dancing—the things he wants to do outside of the hospital. This prompts SeokJin to remember a day in the classroom hideout when he filmed HoSeok dancing. On the sidelines, TaeHyung complimented HoSeok’s moves and asked if JiMin could dance like that. Gaze full of envy and longing, JiMin answered, “No. How could I do that?” “HoSeok! JiMin says he wants to try!” TaeHyung called. Flustered, JiMin tried to stop him, but HoSeok looked over. “Do you want to try?” JiMin insisted that he couldn’t, but TaeHyung pushed him forward and HoSeok gladly demonstrated the routine. JiMin hesitated at first to attempt it alone but began to move at their encouragement. In the present, SeokJin believes that he has found an answer in this memory. “TaeHyung, who pushed him forward… and HoSeok, who believed that he could do it. Maybe one of those two will help JiMin muster up the courage.”

SeokJin picks TaeHyung to help him persuade JiMin, considering that he was the first person to notice how JiMin was feeling when they watched HoSeok dance and helped JiMin take action when he hesitated. (We know from The Notes 1 that SeokJin’s later, successful choice ends up being HoSeok instead.) On 13 May, SeokJin visits TaeHyung’s convenience store to explain JiMin’s situation, and TaeHyung immediately agrees to help. Late that night and with little planned, they sneak into JiMin’s hospital room. Sensing their presence, JiMin turns on the light and is especially surprised to see TaeHyung. “We’re here to get you out of here, JiMin,” he says. “Did you think about it?” SeokJin asks. When JiMin hesitates, TaeHyung presses him to answer honestly. “Park JiMin, do you like being here? Staying here is awful! Let’s leave. You can think when we’re outside.” TaeHyung forces JiMin to his feet even as he hesitates and protests about the impending night rounds, although he does not push TaeHyung’s hand away. SeokJin knows this is hasty but decides to trust TaeHyung. Out in the hallway, he reflects that if even he spoke the same words, JiMin would not agree. SeokJin has encountered moments like this before where his friends solve problems that he cannot fix alone. “TaeHyung seems to be JiMin’s answer, just like YoonGi needed JungKook,” SeokJin thinks. (JungKook saving YoonGi is not a solution that played out in YoonGi’s story, but this is a familiar theme from Notes 1 and forward.)

The elevator arrives as they turn the corner, its doors opening to reveal Sim SeonMi. SeokJin warns, “Hide. It’s JiMin’s mom.” She walks past without noticing them. SeokJin quickly presses the elevator button, but it has already left. “JiMin, quick!” TaeHyung calls. “TaeHyung, I just…” “You can’t look back,” TaeHyung says firmly. He and SeokJin pull JiMin towards the stairwell, but JiMin stops walking. “What’s wrong?” asks TaeHyung. JiMin’s expression is on the verge of crying yet also angry. “I can’t,” he whispers. “Park JiMin, we don’t have time for this—” TaeHyung is interrupted by Sim SeonMi’s distant voice. “Where’d he go? The bathroom?” SeokJin tugs JiMin’s arm, but he looks afraid again. “SeokJin, I… I can’t do this. I don’t think I can.” SeokJin either soothes JiMin himself or has TaeHyung talk to him. In the first path, he takes JiMin’s trembling hand. “It’s safe for me here.” JiMin shakes his head. “No, JiMin. Something bad will happen if you stay here,” SeokJin cautions. “No, I have to stay here. That’s what’s right. I want to stay here,” JiMin insists. In the second path, SeokJin shoots TaeHyung a look, and TaeHyung in turn scans over JiMin. The tapping sound of shoes rings through the silent hallway. TaeHyung begins, “JiMin, if you stop here…” The paths rejoin when Sim SeonMi spots them and calls to JiMin, face livid as she approaches. “Oh… Mom.” The color drains from JiMin’s face. “Please… Please! Can’t you just stay put?” she demands sharply.

TaeHyung attempts to intervene, introducing himself as JiMin’s friend. Sim SeonMi does not look at him even when he explains that JiMin didn’t expect their visit and they were just taking him outside so as not to disturb the sleeping patients. SeokJin chimes in too, hoping their flimsy excuse will work, but Sim SeonMi orders JiMin back to his room. Looking defeated, JiMin trudges out of sight. Sim SeonMi finally turns her gaze on SeokJin, regarding him with the same expression as she utters the same words from the last loop. “I didn't know you were JiMin’s friend.” She warns them not to visit him again like this because he is very sick and it will interfere with his treatment. Before coldly turning to leave, she touches TaeHyung’s shoulder for a moment. (This same gesture was given to HoSeok in the hospital after JiMin’s seizure at the bus stop on 15 September Year 20 in Notes 1.) Her presence is like a wall separating them from JiMin. (SeokJin’s observation echoes HoSeok’s feeling that she was drawing an uncrossable line between them that September.) TaeHyung yells after her, “What’s wrong with him?! You can’t even spare the time to talk to us?!” SeokJin cautions him to stop. “Let me go! JiMin! Park JiMin!” TaeHyung’s voice rings loudly in the hallway, but no one answers. As they leave the hospital, he asks, “Do you think JiMin will be okay?” SeokJin cannot respond because he knows the truth: when JiMin returns to the psychiatric ward, he always makes the same awful choice.

The story cuts to JiMin sitting on his hospital bed and staring at his feet, unable to face his mother. He regrets following SeokJin and TaeHyung. “It was a lie, wasn’t it?” Sim SeonMi asks. “What those kids said earlier. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” JiMin apologizes, throat catching. “What were you going to do? What could you possibly do outside of this place?” she demands. JiMin remembers all the things he thought about alone in the lounge: going to school, making friends, and learning dance from HoSeok again. “I want to live a regular life. It’s nothing that special. Why is it that I’m not allowed to dream?” he thinks. “JiMin, let’s focus on getting better first. When you’re all better… I’ll let you do whatever you want once you’re discharged. But you know that now isn’t the time. Let’s do it when you’re back to normal,” Sim SeonMi advises with a power in her voice that he can’t fight. Questions pile up in his head: what is getting better, and what is normal? But he holds it in and nods, not wanting to make things any more difficult for her. “Okay, Mom. I will…” As he speaks, it dawns on him that he’ll never get to leave the hospital.

JiMin moves back to the psychiatric ward after SeokJin and TaeHyung’s visit. The place is still the same: a man mutters that he’s not crazy; a child stays glued to the window, waiting for their mom. “And then there’s me, unable to progress because I’m locked in the past. If nothing changes even as time flows, how is it any different than time standing still?” On 19 May, JiMin stands in the bathroom with the water running. He sees and hears the falling drops as rain and smells a sharp stickiness. Reflected in the water in the sink, he sees a vision of himself on “that day.” (This is referring to 6 April Year 11 and the events of the arboretum, first introduced in that dated entry in The Notes 1 and revealed in full on 12 August Year 22 of The Notes 2.) “...I hate it.” JiMin covers his eyes. “I want to forget everything. I want to rest.” The glass shatters, concluding his arc.

Someone Left Behind

HoSeok’s story opens on 11 May Year 22 with SeokJin providing some chronological context. So far, he has not made it to June once in the loops because HoSeok collapses from his narcolepsy and JiMin is still trapped in the hospital. SeokJin can encounter JiMin naturally if he admits HoSeok to the hospital after his collapse on 10 May, but HoSeok has an accident in the hospital stairwell and falls into despair over his leg injury. (10 May is the date HoSeok collapses and wakes up in the hospital in The Notes 1, and this is likely the moment referenced by his bridge scene in the I Need U MV.) Even if SeokJin prevents that accident or helps HoSeok avoid admittance to the hospital entirely, his narcolepsy grows worse over time after 10 May. SeokJin determines that he needs to control HoSeok’s narcolepsy in order to save him, and he heads to Two Star Burger where HoSeok works to begin earnestly investigating.

A cutscene plays out at the restaurant: HoSeok, wearing a manager’s tag, watches two friends eating at a table while someone places their order with him. His expression is distant and briefly sad until he catches himself and smiles brightly at the customer. When the door chimes, he greets the new visitor and realizes it’s SeokJin. This is apparently their first time meeting in this loop because HoSeok heard from the other guys that Seokjin returned. SeokJin asks how he’s doing, and HoSeok replies, “Me? Same as usual.” SeokJin knows that “same as usual” means HoSeok’s life has a set, monotonous routine: working his part-time job, going to dance practice, and occasionally visiting the children’s home. Sometimes, he also comes to the bridge over the river and watches the scenery. The scene transitions to this location later at night as SeokJin narrates this. He stands at a distance so HoSeok doesn’t see him. HoSeok’s out-of-character, melancholy expression worries SeokJin. He hasn’t observed any changes to his friend’s daily routine, and HoSeok hasn’t collapsed recently—so why does he keep collapsing on 10 May?

The narrative cuts to 3 May. (I double-checked the dates and can only assume that this is a new loop, although a reset is not specifically mentioned—or else the opening date was a typo.) SeokJin mulls the situation over alone for a while but ends up going to NamJoon out of frustration. NamJoon and HoSeok share similarities, and they’re both responsible for other people. Believing that NamJoon knows HoSeok best, SeokJin visits his container. NamJoon greets him warmly. JungKook is already there, killing time after school. SeokJin mentions that he saw HoSeok a few days earlier at Two Star Burger but couldn’t really talk to him because he was busy. NamJoon suggests inviting him to join them after work and bring some hamburgers too since JungKook is hungry. SeokJin either calls HoSeok himself or lets JungKook call. In the first path, HoSeok says he’ll come as soon as SeokJin mentions that a few of them are together. In the second path, while JungKook is on the phone, SeokJin asks NamJoon how HoSeok is and learns that he practices dance at the cultural center every day. SeokJin wonders if HoSeok is pushing himself too hard. The paths rejoin: before HoSeok arrives, SeokJin inquires about his narcolepsy too. NamJoon doesn’t know much except that he’s still taking medication for it and seems to be doing okay. It seems that no one dares to bring it up since HoSeok doesn’t speak about it openly. The conversation trails off while they wait, although it’s not awkward—it reminds SeokJin of old times together.

HoSeok arrives with a cheerful greeting, wafting in the smell of fresh hamburgers. “These hamburgers were hand-made by the employee of the month!” He rustles through the bags and produces a kid’s meal boxed toy, giving it to JungKook. “Here’s your Children’s Day gift!” JungKook pouts that he’s not a kid but seems pleased to receive a gift even though it’s a couple days early. HoSeok explains that he has to be at the children’s home on 5 May. NamJoon asks if they’re hosting an event that day. “It’s not really an event… I’m going to see the families,” says HoSeok. He plans to bring hamburgers and play with the kids rather than bring gifts. SeokJin is surprised to hear that almost twenty children, ranging from young kids to high schoolers, live at the home. “‘That’s more than I expected. It must be fun when everyone plays together.” HoSeok invites him to come along to take photos of everyone, and SeokJin agrees with a high-five. NamJoon declines because he’s too busy, and JungKook hesitates. HoSeok assures him not to feel pressured, causing SeokJin to reflect on how he has always been the “mood-maker” whose cheerful personality eases awkward situations and defuses disagreements. While lost in thought, he notices HoSeok taking out his medication. “How are you these days? Do you feel better?” NamJoon checks. “Hmm. I don’t have any symptoms, but I shouldn’t be skipping these.” A grim expression flashes across HoSeok’s face. SeokJin thinks, “It doesn’t mean he’s alright just because he smiles in front of people.” He guesses that HoSeok must feel scared of his condition, not knowing when he’ll collapse next. It’s not enough for SeokJin to prevent the accidents he can see or to stop HoSeok from getting injured—he must save him from the fear that isn’t visible. SeokJin resolves to find out what makes him collapse. Even if the condition isn’t curable, discovering the cause might help HoSeok get better.

On 5 May, SeokJin meets up with HoSeok at the children’s home, which is located near Yangji Stream. HoSeo looks happy and explains that visiting there is like coming home. They bring their respective gifts of hamburgers and snacks inside, and all the kids rush to HoSeok in excitement. One of the home’s staff greets them. HoSeok introduces her as Kim JungHee. He calls her “auntie” and regards her as someone who has been like a mother to him. As SeokJin helps her set the table with food, he thinks that the children’s home feels like an ordinary family home and HoSeok looks like the dependable older brother among all the kids. After taking all the requested pictures later, SeokJin joins HoSeok to watch the children play outside. “You’re on good terms with the kids,” he observes. “I’ve only been out of the children’s home about three months now, so I know them all,” HoSeok explains. (He moved into his rooftop room on 25 Feb Year 22 according to that date’s Note accompanying the Persona album.) SeokJin either comments, “Auntie seems like a great person. She treated me well and we’ve only just met,” or asks, “How old were you when you first came here?” In both paths, HoSeok speaks with visible adoration for Kim JungHee. In the first path, he mentions that although she’s scary when mad, she never gets angry without a reason. “Auntie JungHee is just… like a mom. She’s mom.” In the second path, HoSeok answers that he was seven when he moved into the children’s home. He describes how Auntie would sing him songs that his mother listened to instead of a lullaby when he had trouble falling asleep, and that was the first time he cried after coming to the home. SeokJin begins, “Then, HoSeok, when you were little…” But a boy’s cries interrupt him before he can ask if HoSeok experienced narcolepsy when he was younger. “What’s wrong, JiHun?” HoSeok asks in concern. The sobbing boy shows him a broken toy rocket. “My mom… gave this to me.” HoSeok is at a loss because it looks impossible to fix. “I’ll bring you a new one next time. Don’t cry, JiHun. Okay?” The boy keeps crying despite HoSeok’s attempts at consolation. Before SeokJin can think of another tactic, HoSeok speaks up, drying JiHun’s tears. “JiHun, do you want to go with me to see a real rocket?”

At HoSeok’s request, SeokJin drives them both to Yeongsan Bridge, one of the bridges that crosses Yangji Stream and that HoSeok frequents. SeokJin is perplexed about what could count as a “real rocket” as they head to HoSeok’s usual spot on the bridge, and JiHun appears suspicious but excited. “Look over there!” HoSeok points to the train departing Songju Station in the distance, picking up speed on the tracks. “Wow!” JiHun exclaims. “What do you think? That rocket looks cool, huh?” asks HoSeok. “Rocket? That’s a train,” says the boy. “Look closely! It’s a rocket.” HoSeok beams. JiHun asks HoSeok why he calls it a rocket. HoSeok explains that the front end of the train is pointy like a rocket and that it takes people somewhere far away. (He also refers to the trains as rockets in his 4 July Year 22 entry from The Notes 2.) SeokJin realizes that from his vantage point on the bridge, HoSeko has been watching the train that leaves Songju. “JiHun, you can wish on the rocket, too!” HoSeok describes how the rocket can carry dreams because the people who ride on it have dreams. JiHun wishes to become famous so his mom can find him. HoSeok falls silent for a moment before resuming his chatty demeanor. Together they wish on the rocket for JiHun to see his mom again. JiHun asks HoSeok what he wishes for so they can wish it on the next rocket. HoSeok whispers in his ear. “Wow, you too?!” JiHun exclaims. HoSeok shushes him, so SeokJin does not learn HoSeok’s answer.

After dropping JiHun off at the children’s home, SeokJin and HoSeok relax at a bar. HoSeok thanks him for his help that day. SeokJin asks if HoSeok visits Yeongsan Bridge frequently to look at the trains. HoSeok smiles bashfully over his drink and explains that he liked visiting it when he lived in the children’s home. “Is that when you came up with the rocket story?” SeokJin asks. HoSeok replies, ‘Yeah. The people getting on the train look so cheerful and happy. It almost makes me want to get on there with them, too.” He stops abruptly and calls out to a customer on his way out. The young man is introduced as DongJin, a friend who also grew up in the children’s home. SeokJin invites him to sit with them, hoping that he knows more about HoSeok, but DongJin declines since he’s with other company. Before departing, he mentions that he will stop by Two Star Burger to see HoSeok soon. After his friend leaves, HoSeok tells SeokJin more about his childhood. SeokJin understands why he considers the people at the children’s home his family.

A little tipsy now, HoSeok brings up another memory. The whole family at the children’s home goes to Yangji Stream on August 30th for the yearly fireworks, but when he was about nine, he had to be admitted to the hospital for a check-up. SeokJin either asks, “Did you miss the fireworks that year?” or “Were you sick?” In the first path, HoSeok describes how he snuck out of his hospital room and up to the rooftop to watch the fireworks. Along the way, he found a little kid crying in the stairwell who was looking for his mom and wanted to leave, and he brought the boy to the roof so they could view the fireworks together. He doesn’t know who the kid was or remember his face. (See the Additional Thoughts section at the end for who I hope this kid really was!) In the second path, HoSeok answers that he was falling asleep without explanation but the doctor said there was nothing particularly abnormal. SeokJin tries to ask a leading question to get him to reveal more, but HoSeok’s expression is grim. The paths rejoin with HoSeok asking SeokJin if he has attended the fireworks festival too. He looks wistful when SeokJin replies that he went with his family when he was younger. HoSeok brings up DongJin again. “He’s a really lucky guy. Even though it was pretty late, he got in touch with his parents and moved out to go live with them.” His eyes reflect bitterness. “DongJin and I… both dreamed of going to the fireworks festival with our parents. I guess he’ll achieve his dream for the first time this year.” SeokJin recalls HoSeok’s rocket story and asks if that’s the dream he told JiHun about earlier. HoSeok dismisses this: his dream now is to become famous for dancing. SeokJin remembers him mentioning this in high school. “Right, you said you wanted to become famous as a dancer so it would help you find your mom… Are you still dancing because of that?” HoSeok says that was why he first started but he grew to really love dance. “You don’t have any plans to go find your mom, then?” SeokJin asks. “Why would I go anywhere? My home, work, and friends are all here.” HoSeok laughs, but it seems like he is just holding on rather than truly feeling happy. “I just… like where I am.”

Episode four begins on 8 May, Parents’ Day, in HoSeok’s perspective. As promised, DongJin visits him at Two Star Burger and asks if he can get a job there because he needs money. HoSeok is taken aback since DongJin supposedly has moved out of Songju to live with his father after reconnecting with his family. “What happened to your self-reliance support fund?” DongJin confesses that he gave it all to his father, who said that he needed it to buy them a house but hasn’t contacted him since receiving the money. “I think my expectations were too high. They abandoned me once. Why wouldn’t they abandon me a second time? I wish I hadn’t met them…” DongJin’s voice wavers. HoSeok assures him that his father must be busy looking for houses. “Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll contact you soon. I’ll look into a job for you.” DongJin thanks him multiple times before leaving. After work, HoSeok returns to the bridge and leans on the railing. He often does this even when there are no passing trains—watching the flow of the river empties his mind and puts him at ease. But the calm water cannot still his thoughts today. He thinks about the many children at the home who want to be reunited with their parents, including JiHun, DongJin, and himself. HoSeok is honest about his feelings, acknowledging that he envies DongJin for being able to contact a parent, even one who let him down. He closes his eyes and remembers the day his mom abandoned him at the carousel. In the memory, she hands him a chocolate bar and instructs him to count to ten before opening his eyes. The screen goes black after “three,” and at “nine,” the player hears the sound of someone falling. (The carousel memory is also depicted in the Highlight Reel.)

The story cuts to the next day, 9 May, outside Two Star Burger. SeokJin is uneasy knowing that HoSeok collapsed yesterday, two days earlier than he normally does in the loops, and hovers nearby to keep an eye on him. HoSeok announces that he’s heading out for a delivery and heads outside to the delivery scooter. A passing woman reminds her daughter to count before crossing the street. “One, two, three…” HoSeok watches them cross the street and collapses again. “HoSeok!” SeokJin cries. He gets permission from the restaurant manager to take a still-unconscious HoSeok home to his room that overlooks all of Songju City. SeokJin helps HoSeok onto his bed before looking around his room. The player has a choice to look at the items on the desk or a familiar planter on the dresser. In the first path, SeokJin clicks past the screensaver on HoSeok’s laptop and sees that the web browser is open to an audition information video for a famous international dance team. (This may be the same dance team that one of his friends from the children’s home successfully auditions for, referenced in HoSeok’s 4 July Year 22 entry accompanying the Tear album and 7 July Year 22 entry in The Notes 1.) He remembers HoSeok mentioning that he’s happiest when dancing and knows that he still runs Just Dance, the dance club he started in high school. “I’m sure he’d do well if he applies,” SeokJin muses. In the second path, SeokJin recognizes the plant as the one HoSeok tended every day in their classroom hideout. He wonders what HoSeok was thinking when he brought the plant home and how he feels caring for it. The paths rejoin with HoSeok stirring on the bed, mumbling “Mmm… Mom… Don’t go…” SeokJin recalls that HoSeok called for his mother when he fell asleep in high school. “Is the memory of losing his mom related to his narcolepsy?” he thinks. “Are you okay, HoSeok?” SeokJin asks when HoSeok opens his eyes. HoSeok is confused to find himself at home. SeokJin explains that he happened to see him collapse as he was passing by and assures him that he spoke to his manager. “HoSeok, you know how you keep collapsing… The hospital doesn’t know why yet? You don’t have any idea what makes you collapse, either?” he presses. But HoSeok shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

On 10 May, HoSeok receives a call from one of the younger kids from the children’s home while getting ready for work in his apartment. The kid informs him that Auntie JungHee isn’t working at the home anymore because she has been diagnosed with late-stage colon cancer. She is scheduled to have surgery, but the chances of success are low. HoSeok’s mind goes blank, and he hangs up. When he rushes outside, he runs into SeokJin. “I stopped by because I was worried. Are you headed out?” asks SeokJin. Consumed with the thought of getting to Auntie, HoSeok says he needs to visit JungHee and doesn’t have time to ask why SeokJin is there. SeokJin follows, offering him a ride. The player chooses to have HoSeok either get in the car or refuse the ride. In the first path, HoSeok pretends to be calm when explaining the situation to SeokJin, but his voice noticeably trembles. In the second path, he declines because he’s afraid that speaking about it will make it come true, and then he runs to the bus stop.

The story cuts to HoSeok standing on the bridge, unable to remember how he made it to Auntie’s house after saying goodbye to SeokJin. He can only recall the face he saw through one of the open windows of Auntie’s house: JungHee laughing as she chatted with someone. The news of her illness and the low success rate of the surgery seems like a lie. She was the first person he could rely on after HoSeok lost his mom. He can’t shake off the vision of himself standing in front of the carousel “like an idiot.” Head spinning, he thinks, “I just wanted them to stay by my side. Is that too much to ask? What kind of terrible thing have I ever done?” The perspective switches to SeokJin as he watches HoSeok walk precariously across the bridge, looking both shocked and deeply sad. He reflects on his failed attempts to prevent HoSeok from collapsing here. Even if he stays with HoSeok like he did with JungKook or intervenes like he did with YoonGi, HoSeok always runs to JungHee’s home and then collapses on this bridge on his way back. SeokJin is aware that JungHee has cancer (so the first path of the branching choices has happened at least once, or he found out in earlier loops). The extra collapses of this loop weigh on SeokJin’s mind too. Something changed after HoSeok met DongJin, and SeokJin regrets taking him to the bar on 5 May. He looks on as HoSeok inevitably staggers and falls in the same spot.

SeokJin calls 119 and has HoSeok admitted to the hospital. As before, HoSeok is placed in the same hospital room of the surgery ward as JiMin. SeokJin decides not to visit him because he is afraid of running into JiMin and unsure of what will play out if he does. Now that HoSeok is in the hospital, there is no way to avoid the future accident in the stairwell. A few days later, SeokJin scopes out the scene. He mulls over the repeating scenario of HoSeok chasing down the stairs after a woman he mistakes for his mother. SeokJin connects the dots between HoSeok calling for his mother in his sleep and the way he cried in front of his Auntie’s house. “Everything has to do with ‘mom.’ If HoSeok’s narcolepsy is because of ‘mom,’ does that mean this accident is connected to the idea of mom, too?” In other loops in which SeokJin successfully prevented the stairwell accident, HoSeok continued to collapse more frequently until he eventually did so in the street. SeokJin contemplates how his condition apparently worsens after he sees a woman that reminds him of his mother.

The day after HoSeok is admitted to the hospital, 11 May, SeokJin invites NamJoon to meet him at a cart bar after his work shift. NamJoon brings up HoSeok first. Unable to say that he was the one to call for help, SeokJin pretends to be surprised that HoSeok is in the hospital. NamJoon reports that HoSeok had a minor concussion and is staying there for a couple days so the doctors can run additional tests. SeokJin wonders if HoSeok dreamt of his mother again and feels a pang at the image of him haunted by nightmares. He proceeds to tell NamJoon about their visit to the children’s home, meeting DongJin, and learning about the auntie’s illness. Cautiously, SeokJin proposes that HoSeok’s collapsing may be related to his mother. NamJoon mulls it over before agreeing. “I guess it could. Thinking about his auntie might have led him to think about his mom.” “I’m sure he feels like he’s losing his mother a second time,” SeokJin adds. NamJoon asks if he knows HoSeok’s wish to become a famous dancer in order to find his mom, although his dancing grew into a genuine source of joy. “So I thought… Dance had become Jung HoSeok’s cure. Something that helps him hold on. The thing that helps him bear something he can’t otherwise. That’s what dance is to HoSeok. Don’t you have something like that, SeokJin?” NamJoon regards him silently after this, leaving SeokJin much to contemplate. They promise to visit HoSeok together at the hospital. SeokJin hopes that if NamJoon knows just how much dancing means to HoSeok, he may figure out something from HoSeok’s reaction in the stairwell that SeokJin has missed. He just needs to figure out a natural way to get NamJoon into the stairwell at the right time.

On 12 May, SeokJin and NamJoon meet at the hospital. SeokJin suggests that they take the stairs since the elevators are crowded and lies about HoSeok being on the 3rd floor to strengthen his excuse. When they arrive on the 2nd floor landing, they hear footsteps and voices from above. The woman descending the stairs with a child is the one whom HoSeok keeps mistaking for his mother. SeokJin needs to stall until HoSeok comes down too, so he either suggests that they buy some snacks to bring or mentions that he may have got the wrong floor number and checks his phone. Moments later, they hear pounding footsteps and HoSeok shouting, “Mom!” NamJoon locks eyes with HoSeok and, unaware of what is about to happen, turns to follow the woman. “Ma’am! Excuse me!” Caught off guard, SeokJin is too late to grab HoSeok, who falls and screams. As he rolls on the floor clutching his leg, sealing the injury that will prevent him from dancing, the glass shatters.

SeokJin involves NamJoon in several more loops after that, but his attempts to save HoSeok end in failure. He wonders again if he should admit HoSeok to the hospital at all, but decides that if the incident is connected to HoSeok’s trauma, it needs to be solved rather than avoided. On a new 12 May, SeokJin stands near the hospital stairwell, prepared to intervene himself and ask HoSeok about his mother afterward. He spots JiMin emerging from the 2nd floor physical therapy room and pressing the elevator button. Hiding out of sight in the stairwell, SeokJin mulls over his options. If he prevents HoSeok’s accident, he still needs to get JiMin out of the hospital too—an effort that has been unsuccessful so far due to JiMin stopping at the exit or later having a seizure when they pass the arboretum. “Maybe the answer to HoSeok is… JiMin? What if… this incident is the variable between HoSeok and JiMin?” Heart pounding, SeokJin begins to hope that they can save each other. He doesn’t have enough time before HoSeok comes down the stairs to figure out what to say to JiMin and decides that he will just have to make the reason for his presence in the hospital believable. “JiMin!” he calls. “SeokJin? How are you here—” Looking shocked, JiMin steps back like he’s about to run away. SeokJin realizes that they haven’t met in this loop yet, and JiMin strongly dislikes people knowing that he’s in the hospital. With no time to explain, SeokJin leaves him behind and rushes into the stairwell. But he’s too late to catch HoSeok’s fall, and the story concludes with the glass shattering once again. (Based on The Notes 1, we know that the “successful” decision SeokJin makes in later loops is to stay out of sight when he calls JiMin. JiMin is puzzled by the silhouette he sees in the doorway and enters the stairwell just in time to catch HoSeok.)

Additional Thoughts

JiMin’s mother, Sim SeonMi, becomes one of the most fleshed-out adult characters in the BU narrative so far thanks to his story. We already knew the most about SeokJin’s father, Kim ChangJun, due to his role in The Notes 2. I’ve had an inkling of a suspicion that JiMin’s parents were connected in some way to SeokJin’s father, so I was satisfied to see this confirmed in the game. I’m curious about JiMin’s father and the lack of details surrounding him. He has only been depicted once in The Notes 1, when JiMin returned home days after sneaking out of the hospital with his friends.

Though it’s never explicitly stated in the texts, the Wings Short Film #6 MAMA depicts that HoSeok is diagnosed with Munchausen’s syndrome, a psychological disorder in which the individual pretends to be ill or deliberately produces symptoms of the illness. His prescription pills are actually placebos. On 16 May Year 22 in The Notes 1, HoSeok confesses to JiMin that his narcolepsy is fake, although he doesn’t feign symptoms on purpose.

I was personally a little disappointed with the lack of new information in HoSeok’s story. While his relationships with the auntie and other children from the home are explored in greater detail, the most significant plot points if his arc have already been covered as of The Notes 2.

I have no proof for this, but I want the unidentified crying boy who young HoSeok met in the hospital stairwell and brought to the rooftop to see the fireworks to be JiMin. If HoSeok was 9 at the time, then JiMin was 7. He has been in and out of the hospital since the arboretum incident (earlier that same year), so it is plausible that he had an overlapping stay with HoSeok in the summer of Year 11.

As mentioned above, the following “tl;dr” commentary summarizes the parenthetical notes I provided in the summaries in case you want to review them on their own.

Stopped Time — tl;dr commentary

In the opening cutscene, JiMin plays on the colored tiles in a hospital hallway and stops when he reaches “the line” by the exit door. This line marks the end of the psychiatric ward and is first described in his 11 May Year 22 entry in The Notes 1.

The Songho Foundation patron meeting that SeokJin attends on 22 April Year 22 was suggested by the city’s Deputy Mayor at the inauguration ceremony on 11 April. That earlier ceremony played out in JungKook’s arc.

Before the loop reset, SeokJin waits outside the Gyeong Il Hospital as he plans his next move since JiMin is moving out of the surgical ward that day. The date is unspecified in the game, but in The Notes 1, he is scheduled to return to the psychiatric ward on 16 May.

In this story, SeokJin picks TaeHyung to help him free JiMin from the hospital. He hopes that TaeHyung will be JiMin’s “answer,” just like YoonGi needed JungKook. JungKook saving YoonGi is not a solution that played out in YoonGi’s story, but this is a familiar theme from Notes 1 and forward. However, SeokJin and TaeHyung are caught by JiMin’s mother while trying to leave the hospital with him. We know from The Notes 1 that SeokJin’s later, successful choice ends up being HoSeok instead.

Before coldly leaving SeokJin and TaeHyung to rejoin her son, Sim SeonMi touches TaeHyung’s shoulder for a moment. This same gesture was given to HoSeok in the hospital after JiMin’s seizure at the bus stop on 15 September Year 20 in Notes 1. To SeokJin, her presence is like a wall separating them from JiMin. This echoes HoSeok’s feeling that she was drawing an uncrossable line between them that September.

At the end of the story, the vision JiMin sees reflected in the sink water of “that day” is referring to 6 April Year 11 and the events of the arboretum, first introduced in that dated entry in The Notes 1 and revealed in full on 12 August Year 22 of The Notes 2.

Someone Left Behind — tl;dr commentary

In the story’s opening, SeokJin refers to HoSeok’s collapse on 10 May. This is the date that HoSeok collapses and wakes up in the hospital in The Notes 1, and it is likely the moment referenced by his bridge scene in the I Need U MV.

When SeokJin observes that HoSeok is on good terms with the kids from the children’s home, HoSeok explains that he’s only been out of the home for about three months. He moved into his rooftop room on 25 Feb Year 22 according to that date’s Note accompanying the Persona album.

As he does in the game, HoSeok refers to the trains as “rockets” in his 4 July Year 22 entry from The Notes 2.

HoSeok’s memory of being abandoned at the carousel is also depicted in the Highlight Reel.

When searching HoSeok’s apartment, SeokJin notices the laptop’s web browser is open to an audition information video for a famous international dance team. This may be the same dance team that one of his friends from the children’s home successfully auditions for, referenced in HoSeok’s 4 July Year 22 entry accompanying the Tear album and 7 July Year 22 entry in The Notes 1.

At the end of the story, SeokJin hopes to gain JiMin’s help to save HoSeok but ends up spooking him because they haven’t met in that loop yet. Based on The Notes 1, we know that the “successful” decision SeokJin makes in later loops is to stay out of sight when he calls JiMin. JiMin is puzzled by the silhouette he sees in the doorway and enters the stairwell just in time to catch HoSeok.

Did you learn anything new from these stories that I did not specifically mention? Let me know in the replies or tags! Please stay tuned for part 4, featuring TaeHyung and the Epilogue.

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violetrose-art · 3 years

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Corpse Bride Headcannons, Theories, and Ideas

This is just a list of the theories, headcannons, and ideas I came up with for Tim Burton's Corpse Bride. I might add more later on, so watch out

-Victor and Victoria were born and raised in a small English village close to the Atlantic Ocean called Burtonsville

-Victor’s full name is Victor Ichabod Van Dort

-When he was about four years old, Victor found Scraps as a mixed-breed puppy in an alleyway. Nell and William refused at first, but William saw how his son quickly became attached to the dog, so he let him stay. Sadly, when Victor turned eight, Scraps was brutally mauled and tragically killed while trying to defend his beloved owner from a bigger, nastier dog

-Victor’s favorite toy as a child was a stuffed horse he called Usher. He begged his mother to let him keep Usher until he was fourteen

-Victor learned to play the piano when he was about five years old. He was a fast learner and he picked up on it very quickly, and his tutor was greatly impressed by his skill. His favorite musicians are Mozart and Beethoven

-Victor works as an artist to draw many types of butterflies for the Lepidoptera Community, as well as a professional pianist. Originally, his father wanted him to work as a fish merchant and take over the family business, but Victor politely told him “no thanks” because he wanted to follow his own dreams. William was disappointed, but deep down he wanted his son to be happy. So he usually encouraged him, especially when Nell wasn’t around

-Outside from his butterfly works, Victor does paintings during his free time at home. The color theory that he studied was written by Eugene De La Croix· Victor has been drawing since he was a child. His favorite things to draw are animals, butterflies, and other insects. He also does landscapes and people sometimes. He also likes to write sometimes, mostly a few poems and a couple musical compositions. Nothing he took too seriously, though. He also likes to sing when he thinks he’s alone

-In his childhood, Victor used to have a somewhat regular playmate named Humphrey. They were almost friends, but when William’s business became very successful and Victor’s family became rich when Victor was about eleven, Humphrey stopped coming over and the two boys haven’t seen each other since

-When he was a boy, he learned how to speak French because his mother thought it was “high-class” to be bilingual. Victor was diligent in his studies and thus has a good knowledge of spoken and written French. He may not be perfectly fluent, but he can carry on a decent conversation

-Victor is severely allergic to walnuts and poison oak

-Victor had a cousin named Mary whom he was very fond of, but she passed away when she was seventeen and he was six. She got lost in the woods and was attacked and devoured by a pack of wolves

-Victor doesn’t drink anything more than the occasional glass of champagne or wine. The reason? Mayhew once got him drunk and it turns out Victor is a CHATTY drunk. As in, he’ll tell you his life story at the slightest provocation. Victor was so embarrassed when he sobered up that he nearly swore off all alcohol forever. It’s very unlikely he’ll ever knowingly get wasted again· After he and Victoria were finally married, Victor gained confidence and he stood up against Victoria's parents earning him some respect

-Victor HATES smoking. He was secretly offered a cigarette from Mayhew when he was fourteen and after the first inhale, he was coughing and gagging so much that he nearly threw up

-Victor is the tallest member of the Van Dort family, making him stand out quite a bit during family reunions

-He may not be a sporty person, but Victor enjoys cycling. He also loves a good game of chess

-Victor adores reading. His favorite writers are William Blake, Charles Baudelaire, Lewis Carroll, Edgar Allan Poe, and William Shakespeare

His favorite books are “Les Miserables”, “Dracula”, “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland”, “The Fall of the House of Usher” and other works by E.A. Poe. The play/book that he hates the most is “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” because he strongly dislikes this style of a love triangle in the plot line. He also has a fascination with penny dreadful. Yes, he knows the serial stories are really nothing but lowest common denominator trash, but he loves them anyway. He got hooked on them as a teenager thanks to Mayhew’s nephew, and he used to keep a secret stash under his mattress

-When she still rather young, Victor noticed that his daughter, Emily, became very interested in music, so he taught her how to play the piano as well as the violin

-Victoria was the one who taught her son, Edward, how to read and they bond over books and stories they both enjoy

-The worst day of Victor’s life happened about three weeks after Scraps died. Victor’s parents had some business friends over for tea, and forced a still-grieving Victor to come down and be social. Poor Victor made a bad impression, being quieter and clumsier than normal, culminating in knocking over one man, tripping his wife, and insulting said wife’s coat in apologizing. Nell, humiliated and enraged, turned on her son once the guests were off, screaming at him about what an embarrassment he was while they were still standing on the front steps. Victor was so horrified, embarrassed, and depressed that he came too close to taking his own life. He got his hands on his father’s straight-razor, snuck into the bathroom, and actually had it to his neck when a noise from outside the bathroom spooked him and he dropped the razor and ran back to his room as fast as he could. Fortunately, the distraction gave him time to realize suicide wouldn’t fix anything, and he made a promise to himself never to stoop that low again. His parents also apologized the next day, which helped a lot. Victor avoids telling anyone about it unless he feels he has to, certain they’ll think less of him for it

-Victor was born June 9th, 1867

-Victoria’s full name is Victoria Elizabeth Everglot

-When she was very little, Victoria had always wanted a pet (like a cat or a small dog) but her mother said that having a pet in the house was uncivilized and improper and that all animals were filthy and uncouth creatures

-Victoria’s favorite hobby is sewing and knitting. She often designs most of her husband’s clothes and others in her spare time

-As a child, Victoria tried to be closer to her parents, but often found the family maid Hildegarde as more of a mother figure

-Victoria loves to read in her spare time… even though most people call it scandalous for a woman to do such a thing. Her mother even said reading was too passionate for a young lady. At a young age, Hildegarde, taught Victoria how to read (something her parents never found out about)

-Her favorite books are “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland”, “A Christmas Carol”, and any classic fairy tale. And her favorite writers are Charles Dickens, Lewis Carroll, Charles Perrault, Hans Christian Andersen, and the Brothers Grimm

-Victoria’s favorite toy as a child was a china doll she called Miss Liddie. By the time she was about eleven, she had grown out of it. Even though she knows she’s too old for toys now, she still misses Miss Liddie

-Victoria isn’t allergic to anything, but she does tend to sneeze if dust is in the air

-When she was a little girl, Victoria was nearly trampled by a horse-drawn carriage, which made her develop a slight fear of horses

-Victoria likes to sing whenever she thinks she’s alone. She doesn’t believe it, but she has a surprisingly lovely singing voice

-When she was a little girl, Victoria was entranced by the piano in her house and she immediately wanted to learn how to play but her mother had told her daughter many times that music was improper and too passionate for a young lady. But Victor always tells his wife that music is a wonderful way to express oneself and that he would be more than happy to teach her how to play

-Victoria used to have a regular playmate named Gwyneth in her girlhood. They were good friends, but when Victoria reached her pre-teen years, Gwyneth stopped coming over to play for some reason and she never heard from her since

-Victoria is the most beautiful member of the Everglot family

-When she was in her early teens, Victoria secretly dreamed of becoming a writer someday

-Victoria was born February 3rd, 1868

-Victor and Victoria had two children. Their names are Emily Alice Van Dort (age 15) and Edward Daniel Van Dort (age 10)

-When Victor and Victoria were married, they moved out of their parents houses and bought a beautiful two story house that sat at the edge of a large meadow that was right next to the forest… plus, the house was a good mile or so away from Burtonsville

-The Corpse Bride’s full name is Emily Charlotte Cartwell

-Emily was born into a wealthy family. Her parents, Lord and Lady Cartwell, couldn’t say ‘no’ to their daughter and they practically gave her everything she asked for, so she became incredibly spoiled, selfish, and incredibly naïve· Emily was a hopeless romantic, often spending time reading romance novels and daydreaming about her wedding when she was alive

-When she was alive, Emily was blonde

-When she made it to Heaven, Emily was finally reunited with her mother and father

-When their daughter disappeared, Lord and Lady Cartwell were so sad and depressed that they wasted away and passed away in their sleep

-Before ascending, Emily considered Bonejangles to be one of her best friends. They used to sing and dance together all the time. He even taught her how to play the piano

-When she was alive, Emily knew how to ride horses. She even had a pet white mare she called Aphrodite

-Emily Cartwell died at age eighteen

-Lord Barkis’s full name is Barkis Finbar Campbell Bittern

-Emily met Lord Barkis while she was on an outing with her parents. Her parents had their backs turned while Emily was talking with Barkis. After only a few minutes of talking, she was instantly smitten with him and she accepted his immediate proposal of marriage… and her mother and father were not happy about it at all. Emily and her father had a huge fight and she decided to elope with Barkis… but for her, it didn’t go as planned

-Barkis told her that if they were going to be together, they would need money. Emily wasn’t sure, but in the end, she agreed

-On the night she was running away, Emily stole not only her mother’s wedding dress, veil, gloves, and best shoes, but she also stole the jewels from her mother’s jewelry box and a large bag of gold from her father’s office

-As Emily was waiting for her fiancé that night, Barkis snuck up behind her, stabbed her, knocked her out cold, took all of her money and jewels, and buried her alive. She woke up in a shallow grave and tried to claw her way out before suffocating to death. That's why her hand was sticking out of the ground

-Barkis was married six times in his life. He and his first wife were married out of love until he found her cheating on him and killed her. The second was an elderly widow for her money. The third one got away before he could even hurt her, but she drowned herself in a deep, rushing river. The fourth was a drunken lonely woman who “accidentally” fell out of a two story window. The fifth being Emily and the sixth being Victoria

-In the Land of The Dead, Barkis was brutally beaten and ripped apart before he was imprisoned in an iron coffin chained seven feet underground with other criminals like him for all eternity

-After he ran away, Barkis studied linguistics in French, Latin, German, and Russian in order to impress others… or use different fake accents to fool them with

-Barkis’s original first name was Bradford and he had a rough upbringing. His father was a violent alcoholic and his mother was a reckless prostitute and they both abused Bradford as a child until he ran away from home at age sixteen and changed his name to Lord Barkis

-Barkis has a twin sister who had a son named Hector. Hector greatly looked up to his uncle and when he heard about what happened to Barkis, he was taken aback, but he also felt he could use that to his advantage. When he turned 30, Hector came to Burtonsville to exact revenge on the Van Dort family… but he also developed a vile infatuation with Emily. Whenever he tries to woo the young girl (which always fails since Emily finds him repulsive and cruel), Victor gladly steps in the way every time and he always sternly tells Hector to stay away from his daughter

-Mrs. Van Dort’s full name is Eleanor Minerva Fitzackley Van Dort

-Nell came from a lower class family. She lived with her father, mother, and three sisters. However, Nell wasn’t happy with her place in society and she wanted to became something more

-Nell and William first met when she was caught in the rain one stormy day and he offered her a ride home in his fish merchant carriage. She declined at first, but quickly gave in when it started to bucket down. As they rode together, they started chatting and soon became very interested in one another

-Nell and William made their way back to the village just in time to witness Emily's soul disappear into the night as a swarm of blue butterflies

-When she learned about Mayhew’s death, Nell quietly wept in her room about it. She might be overbearing, but deep down, she truly does care for the ones closest to her. She also adores her husband and son, even if she does find them a bit irritating. She just has a hard time showing her emotions

-Mr. Van Dort’s full name is William Oscar Van Dort

-William loves talk about fish and his business, he always tries to weasel in the topic whenever possible to his wife and son's annoyance

-William used to take Victor on fishing trips when he was younger, which practically bored Victor to death

-While he tends to be the more passive one in their relationship, William does put his foot down when the situation calls for it

-It may not seem like it, but William adores Victor and he tries to do whatever he can to be there for his son

-When Victor turned sixteen, William gave him a silver pocket watch with a design of a fish on the front and his initials

-Lady Everglot’s full name is Maudeline Hortense Glottberg Everglot

-Maudeline and Finis didn’t plan on having a child in the first place and Victoria came as more of a surprise

-Maudeline had a sister named Marie who loved playing the piano. They didn’t get along in their youth and they drifted apart as they grew up. Maudeline wasn’t even invited to Marie’s wedding to Lord Frederick Cartwell

-When Marie died, she left her piano to her sister, but Maudeline never touched it. She felt it brought back too many memories and forbade Victoria from going near it was well

-Lord Eveglot’s full name is Finis Augustus Everglot

-While he was disappointed in not having a son, Finis deeply cares for his daughter. He just doesn’t know how to show it

-Even though they’re not good at sharing their feelings, Maudeline and Finis do care for each other to some extent

-Hildegarde has lots of grandchildren and she visited their home in the countryside as often as she could before she passed away

-When he was alive, Bonejangles was a freelance jazz musician from America and his original name was Dexter. He was finishing a gig in England when he died in a horrible carriage accident (he was run over), which also caused him to lose his eyeball

-General Bonesapart and General Wellington were actually General Napoleon Bonaparte and English General Wellington, two real historical figures. However, even though they hated each other at first, they became real pals eventually

-Although they don't say it out loud, people in Burtonsville make fun of Maudeline's hair cut, calling her names like "Rump Head" or "Hairmungus"

-Elder Gutknecht is one of the many Afterlife Lords, responsible for managing the dead after they pass. Among them include God, the Devil, King Vince, Hades, Hel, Osiris, Odin, Freya, and, the Hindu God Yama

-The Underworld is actually thousands of miles underground and due to the magic surrounding it. Mortals can't access it unless they die themselves

-After his death, Mayhew kicked the habit of smoking altogether and is very glad he did

-Elder Gutknecht has a fearsome Hellhound by the name of Infernius, his fierce and ever loyal pet. He guards the entrance to the Land of the Dead and can breathe fire that heats up to 900 degrees

-The fellow who was cut cleanly in half was an English gentleman by the name of Herman, who lived in Burtonsville years before. He ended up meeting his death due to an accident involving a rather large guillotine

-Generals Bonesapart and Wellington are the leaders of army of the Land of the Dead, but are only called into combat in times of great peril

-The people of Burtonsville sometimes call Lord Everglot “Everglut” behind his back

-Victoria has a cousin by the name of Dolores. Dolores is something of a freeloading con artist who moved to America when she left home. She considers herself a very attractive woman, but she just wears too much makeup and rather revealing clothes and is actually rather sleazy in reality. She also smokes, which Victoria and the rest of the Everglots are strongly against

-When he was alive, Elder Gutknecht used to be a wise sage that helped people in their time of need. He passed away when he reached the age of 102

-The Everglots were a family of nobles with a significant amount of money, but due to a bit of excessive gambling (by Dolores), they lost almost everything

-Almost every member of the Everglot family is rather ugly due to bad genetics. Victoria considers herself very, VERY lucky to have not inherited such genes (she unknowingly received her natural beauty from her late Aunt Marie)

-Pastor Galswells was raised in a strict environment. He was taught that kindness was weakness and to be stern and firm with everyone. He passed away shortly after the official wedding of Victor and Victoria and a new pastor took his place. His name is Pastor Ivan Blackthorp and he’s much kinder and friendlier than Galswells ever was

-The reason Victor named his dog Scraps was because he only ate table scraps

-The people of Burtonsville have a secret inside joke about the squatty walk Finis Everglot does where they assume that he would jump like a toad and snatch up a fly at any moment

-Burtonsville is well known for its raven population and there's an old legend saying they're messengers to the Land of the Dead

-For some weird reason, William Van Dort is known to mutter the words "Fishy, fishy, fish" in his sleep and it honestly creeps Nell out

-Paul, the decapitated head waiter, was actually a French man who served Marie Antoinette during her reign. Unfortunately, he was unjustly executed by association with the queen when the French Revolution broke out and he was never able to find his body after he died

-Several people have assumed Maudeline's hair is an actual wig and she's bald under it… only to be mistaken, resulting in a whooping

-Lord Barkis was a master of disguise in life and was never caught by the police as a result

-The Underworld has a prison known as the Iron Tomb and it holds some pretty infamous inmates who include Bluebeard, Caligula, Henry VIII, Mary I of England, and many more

-The Town of Burtonsville was actually built on an ancient burial ground, which is possibly why the Land of the Dead is connected to it

-After her death, Emily was made the official guardian angel of the Van Dort family

This is all I've got so far, but feel free to tell me what you think and tell me which one is your favorite

#corpse bride #Tim Burton

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cobble-stone · 3 years

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broadripple is burning- chapter 2

Days fade into each other so easily without any discernable things to break them apart, without anything to build memories on time becomes a haze.

trigger warning for discussions of suicide this chapter, (if you need to skip over, it's the part where etho reads the journal). ao3 link

previous chapters: [1]

Day in, day out, day in, day out.

It became a haze of sorts, endless days of Etho waking up on the couch, stumbling through the day through finding any way possible of turning his brain off to keep his thoughts away. It was numbing and hollow but he was still at least surviving.

He wonders what stage of grief this is, if he skipped over the first three and went straight to depression, or if this happens to be denial, denying himself any real ability to think about what happened to him.

What happened to Bdubs.

Maybe denial is what’s currently scribbled into a notebook and loose sheets of paper; the endless hours upon hours of research, of begging people to look further, of trying his best to convince agents to give him any confidential papers he can get his hands on, because there has to be something that they missed.

Maybe denial is the bedroom that’s been abandoned for weeks, untouched ever since Etho received the news. He’s been trying to work himself up to at least going in for ages, but every time he gets close to the door, his chest gets tighter and he can’t seem to keep himself from shaking.

Maybe denial is the split second of seeing Bdubs’ face that morning, looking directly into his eyes, before blinking and the image was gone. Maybe denial was in all the times he fell asleep imagining his voice comforting him, even though the memories of how he sounded started to grow more and more distorted as time went on.

He can’t keep living like this, can he? He’s surviving, but he isn’t living. Day in, day out, barely letting himself think enough to feel anything.

A knock on the door distracted him. Right, it was Friday.

He and Scott developed a sort of tradition on Friday, that Scott would bring a coffee over and the two would sit in awkward silence for a while. They started doing it a few weeks back, after Scott accidentally bought three coffees even though his roommates were out of town.

Etho had grown to appreciate the tradition, it was really his one chance to get any sort of socialization in each week, even if the extent of that socialization was sitting in silence with someone he didn’t really know too well for about ten to twenty minutes. It was nice knowing that Scott did this out of sympathy rather than pity, his own boyfriend having gone missing earlier that year.

“You don’t need to knock Scott, you can just come in,” Etho remarked from the couch, grabbing his mask off of the coffee table. He didn’t really need to wear it around Scott, but he still did. Granted, he didn’t need to wear it in general, he just always felt more comfortable with it on.

There was the sound of someone fidgeting with the door for a few seconds, “It’s locked,” replied a muffled voice from outside.

“Is it? Okay, hold on-” He sighed, getting up to go open the door, feeling faint as he stood up so suddenly.

He was, as expected, greeted by Scott holding out two coffees. “Hi,” he said, handing Etho a coffee, “I see you haven’t gotten off the couch this week.”

Etho chuckled slightly, patting down his hair that was undoubtedly a mess, “You know me, the most productive member of society,” he remarked, accepting the coffee and stepping aside to let Scott in.

Scott sat down on the armchair across from the couch, glancing around the room that has gotten progressively more of a mess. "So uhh, how have you been?"

Etho hesitated, having already forgotten the events of the past week. It was a lot of the same old, same old of trying to find the motivation to do anything, and never accomplishing that task.

He considered telling Scott about the journal, about the hours he's poured into research, into hypotheticals and connections that don't ever fully line up. He’s been wanting to share it with someone, to have someone finally listen to him, someone who wouldn’t immediately try and shut him down. But he doesn't know how Scott would respond though, maybe it wouldn't be the best to bring up casually-

“Hello? Earth to Etho,” Scott asked, doing a small wave with his free hand to grab Etho’s attention

"Right, sorry. I guess I've been okay, about standard for me. You?" The default response fell off his tongue, it wasn’t a lie but wasn’t fully the truth. It was a response nonetheless.

"I’ve been alright, Cleo’s trying to get me and Pearl into her whole gym program as like- a roommate bonding activity. This is me escaping from that-” he responded with a slight laugh.

Etho nodded, giving a hum of amusement. “Can’t really blame you there,” he remarked, before both returned to silence for more than a few moments.

Something brushed against his hand, and Etho tensed up. The same, bone-numbing chill that he felt through his whole body earlier, starting in that palm and shaking through his entire soul. It’s probably just a draft, Or bad blood circulation. That’s what it had to be, right? And yet, he still looked up, almost hoping he’d see Bdubs face again, even if it was a hallucination. He was met with nothing.

“Did you feel that?” Etho asked.

“Feel what?”

He frowned slightly, disappointment shielded behind his mask, “I don’t know, it suddenly got cold. I think I might’ve left a window open or something.”

Scott looked back at Etho, puzzled and maybe just a little bit judgemental, “Why would you even have a window open, it’s December.”

Etho shrugged, “I don’t know. It’s just been weirdly cold here all morning.” He lifted the bottom of his mask up slightly to take a sip of his coffee, in a slight effort to warm up again. He thought about it for a moment, racking his brain for what the answer could possibly be. “The heat kept breaking in here last year, that’s probably what it is.”

"You know, you can always stay with us, if the broken heater becomes a problem," Scott offered, "Cleo and Pearl wouldn't mind, we have the space."

Etho answered before fully thinking about it, "Thank you, but I'm okay here.”

“That’s fine, just know that the offer is there.”

He could tell that Scott was offering for reasons beyond just the broken heater. Maybe Scott was right and it’d be smarter for Etho to stay with someone else, but he was fine on his own, as fine as he could be, at least.

“Well, I better get going, I don’t want Pearl getting upset again because the ice in her coffee melted,” Scott explained, excusing himself, “Nice to see you again Etho.”

“See you later.”

Etho sighed, flopping back against the couch, peeling the mask away from his face as the door shut behind Scott. There’s my socialization for the week, he thought. Scott’s company was nice, even in the silence it was a distraction from being alone with his thoughts. But once a week was enough for him, it got draining beyond that.

He found himself alone with his thoughts a lot recently. It wasn’t necessarily the greatest, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t used to it.

Maybe he was a bit of a liar. He thought back, throughout freshman year of college with the NHO crew, and Bdubs sticking with him as the two befriended Tango and Skizz in junior year, and even before college he could always rely on Beef and Pause, back when the three of them were dumb highschool kids trying to find anything to do in the most boring town in the rural parts of Canada.

He’s long since lost contact with Doc, Beef, and Pause, and then Tango and Skizz seemingly disappeared off the face of the earth since Bdubs died. They were good memories to think back on, but that’s all they were now. Not anything he could ever get back, not anything he could ever return to.

He could feel his face fall as he slowly realized how few people he still had in his life. Maybe he wasn’t used to being this alone.

No, I’m not in the mood for being sad right now, he thought to himself.

He looked towards the notebook tossed haphazardly onto the floor, and grabbed it, to give himself something new to do.

It was a mess of notes endlessly scratched out and rewritten, detailing anything that could even possibly be relevant, the binding was starting to get ruined from the sheer number of pages he tore out and threw into the corner of his room. The first page was the most important.

Last seen 10/28. Declared missing 10/30. Body found 11/2. Death could have occurred any point in those five days.

The bed next to him was cold the morning after he last saw Bdubs. It was the most mundane morning he could think of, piled in blankets and still drowsy, laying in bed for ages. The whole time, Etho guessed that Bdubs was just up early, and he’d eventually come back in to drag Etho out of bed, or maybe he stayed the night when he left for that party. He waited for so long before even considering calling Bdubs. Why had he waited so long? He should have called as soon as he noticed Bdubs wasn’t there. Maybe those five hours made the difference. He should have-

The body was found in the woods.

He was offered the chance to see the body, to help identify it. The image was seared into his mind, seeing it in nightmares, in the moments where he closes his eyes and allows his thoughts to drift for a little too long, in the nights where his room is dark enough that he can’t tell if he’s awake or asleep. It was dusk then, the sky a deep blue that now makes him sick to his stomach whenever he sees it. He wishes he never saw it.

Roughly a mile from his last known location. Manner of death was declared suicide.

Etho knew that was a lie. It had to be a lie. He’s known Bdubs for years, he’s been with him throughout his highest and lowest points, and there was nothing that indicated he was even remotely close to that low. He wouldn’t have- right? He couldn’t have. The two of them had plans, ones that Bdubs was always so enthusiastic about- murals of a perfect future that he had always been the artist of-

No further investigation was deemed necessary.

He begged for someone to do any sort of further investigation. Every single time, the police overlooked his requests, shutting him down and directing him instead to a grief counselor. They had no cause to believe it wasn’t a suicide, and with so many missing people in one town, everyone’s focus was shifted elsewhere. It pissed him off.

Tango and Skizz had gone missing on the same night. They are still missing.

The disappearances and Bdubs’ death- they must be connected, right?

But that would mean Tango and Skizz may have met the same fate as Bdubs did. The thought made him want to hurl. He already lost Bdubs, he couldn’t have lost the other two as well.

Jimmy was declared missing as of 6/1, five months ago.

It was closer to five and a half now, the first in the chain of these disappearances, though it was long before all the others. He had heard that a friend of Jimmy, Mumbo, left town about a month later, though it was more of a ‘moving-to-get-a-fresh-start,' disappearance than an ‘investigation-required’ disappearance.

Other official disappearances include Elizabeth “Lizzie” Shadow, who went missing three months ago.

He never really knew Lizzie, aside from the fact that he knew Cleo was once close with her, and at some point Bdubs borrowed a book from her and never returned it. She was nice, from what he’s heard. He didn’t expect her to still be alive, and maybe part of him wishes he got to know her better while he had the chance.

A suicide note was found in Bdubs’ pocket, addressed primarily to me.

He hasn’t read it. He doesn’t want to. If anything, he wants to burn it, to watch it turn to ashes, because it can’t be real.

He skimmed over the rest of the pages in the journal, glancing over each absentmindedly, not processing any of the words he read over. Etho wasn’t getting anything from this except for frustration.

He closed the notebook and tossed it on the ground, walking over towards the kitchen without giving what he was doing much thought. Maybe he’d start to clean up a little, at least throw out all the old takeout boxes, it’s only taken what, six, seven weeks? He’s lost track of time.

He glanced at the four unopened cans of soda on the countertop. Dang, I meant to give those to Scott today, he thought, seeing as he couldn’t really drink them himself. I’ll do that next week.

Something pulled at the corner of his mouth as he remembered Bdubs’ voice.

“Seriously? Soda? That’s the thing you’re allergic to?” Bdubs exclaimed, looking back at Etho in shock.

Etho shrugged, “I don’t know what to tell you, I just am.”

“Since when?” he questioned, holding the two bottles of Coke that he had just bought, with the intention that one was for Etho, “I’ve known you for how many years, and this is the first time you tell me this?”

“It never came up, Tango and Skizz always drank it all anyway.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Etho- we’re literally married, how did I just never know this,” he responded.

Married. The word still felt strange to attach to their relationship, they’ve only really been married for about a month at this point. It was a long running joke between the two of them, saying that they should get married for tax benefits, but one night of staying up too late and making too many bad decisions and they actually did. Even got the rings to match it, both of which were custom-made (which in hindsight, was more expensive than it was worth—Etho would have been happy with something from a thrift store.)

“How are you even allergic to soda anyways? How does that work- is it the caffeine or something?”

Only Bdubs would try and argue with someone on why they have an allergy. “I don’t know, it gives me nosebleeds.”

“Why nosebleeds?”

“You think I know?”

The conversation devolved into ages of lighthearted bickering that anyone but them would find insufferable. But it’s exactly what brought both of them joy, finding ways to poke fun at each other, the satisfaction of throwing pillows or snowballs in faces just to see how the other reacts. It was childish, but they were young then, and they were happy then.

They were happy then.

#last life #etho #bdubs #broadripple au #anon this is dedicated to you #also my apologies if it seems rushed or weirdly paced anywhere #i Struggled with pacing this chapter

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captainsimagines · 3 years

Text

Titanic || H.S

Part Four || “April 10, 1912″

“I’m the king of the world!”

Warnings: This book contains mature themes and discussions, such as gun violence, emotional and physical abuse, attempted suicide, mentions of blood, character deaths, heavy sexual content, and reference to the real maritime disaster of the 1912 cruise liner Titanic.

Bells were ringing for miles as crowds formed both before and at the ports, the buzzing of excitement and utter joy radiating through the doors of your overly-crowded automobile. Cheers from all the awaiting passengers contradicted your current mental state. For you, it was just another ship - simply new. You had stayed in overpriced rooms before, eaten at countless never-ending buffets, been given towels with a special “scent” which simply had a hint of cheap perfume, and even eaten from plates and utensils engraved with real gold. So the size of this ship, the luxury it supposedly had, or the brilliance of its story, did not do much to excite you.

You rolled a piece of thread in between your fingers and looked out your car window at the street. You could feel their shouts vibrating from the street below you, adding an extra rhythm to the automobile that seemed humanly impossible. You watched people dance and drink, and it took you only a moment to realize that these people weren’t even going to travel with you. They were simply here to enjoy the momentous atmosphere, watch history in the making, and say goodbye to their loved ones.

With your mother and Cal in deep conversation and George focusing on the outside world as well, you actually allowed yourself to smile. Perhaps this was a good thing - to travel back home and see just how much had changed. You admit, the political and social world was most likely unchanged and that London was much more lenient to who joined certain higher-ranked circles, but America must have some good qualities they adopted over the years. New inventions, food, culture and religion, play-writing - anything that you had an interest in you tried to think of as brightly American. You removed your hat to comb your hand through your thick hair and to wipe the excess sweat building on your hairline, the summer air becoming a little too musty for your liking. Your smile remained bright as you reached the long lines of actual passengers, both second and third class, going through their health inspections and bag checks. Lots of them would stop and stare at the first class carriages and automobiles that passed them quickly, some annoyed and some fascinated. It never bothered you when the lower class mocked you or spoke ill of the current political and economic systems, as you whole-heartedly agreed with them. If your late father taught you one thing it was that the system was deeply flawed and would remain that way as long as those in power who have never experienced injustice in their lives were allowed to live believing in business as usual. And yet, the total irony of you marrying into one of the wealthiest and greediest capitalist families in Europe was forever going to feel like a knife twisting into your back.

Just as your car passed the last round of third class health inspections, you leaned further toward the window to get a better view of the group of children laughing and pushing each other side to side. You grinned widely as you passed them, but your face fell almost instantly as you noticed the look of disgust from an older man. In the short seconds of that encounter, he had looked through your veil of upper-class protection and judged the color of your glowing skin, something that most people in your social circle in London chose to ignore. With your father’s influence and money, this issue was never even labeled as such, but to someone in another world, you were likely worth less than the piece of paper granting you passage on board.

You swallowed hard and leaned back against the red velvet seat, pulling your hat right back on to avoid the stares of the real world.

Over on the other side of the docks, just a mere distance from all the packed commotion, Harry held onto his sister’s hands as she said her goodbyes.

“Don’t you go spending all that money on art and women, you hear?”

Harry gasped and faked a gag, smiling down at his sister. “How rude of you to even think of me spending money on art I can simply draw myself and women I can woo with no fee.”

Both his sister and mother leaned in for a giant shared hug, each one already imagining the next time they would see each other.

“It’s only a few months. You’ll be in the states with me before you know it,” Harry snuggled closer to his mother as she hugged him tighter.

“I know, but it’s the first time you’re leaving home on your own and…” she choked on a gasp, barely holding it together. The amount of prayers she recited last night didn’t seem efficient and she made a mental note to say double the moment she returned home.

“I’ll be okay. I’ll write as soon as I’m settled.”

“Just be careful, okay? I hear they’re not as kind as we are here across the Atlantic,” his sister laughed, giving him one final, tight side squeeze and handing him his carry-on bags.

“You know, I heard that, too,” Harry joked.

“Be careful, we’re not joking,” his mother said, grabbing his chin gently and turning his face toward hers. “We’re not joking. Be safe.”

Harry leaned down and kissed his mother’s forehead, rubbing her back up and down rapidly as if that somehow kept his own tears at bay. But he grinned brightly and placed another kiss on his mother’s forehead and on his sister’s, and reached down to pick up his two carry-ons and his father’s briefcase.

“I promise. I love you both. The stars will tell you where I am and who I’m with.”

His sister was the first to let him go, “Alright, my little scientist! Get going and make us some money!”

Harry laughed loudly, patiently waiting for his mother to release her grip. “Not a scientist, but an amateur astronomer!”

His mother sniffed into her elbow and quickly rubbed her cheek, looking away momentarily before she collected herself and gave Harry her best broken but proud smile.

“Love you.”

Harry nodded with deep understanding, leaned in for one final goodbye kiss, and crossed into the massive crowd. He looked over his shoulder and yelled out for both of them.

“I promise to make my girls proud!”

It looked like every other ship you had ever been on, minus the shiny new floors and number of installed elevators. It almost angered you how disappointed your own disappointment made you, like nothing ever made you feel truly elated, truly surprised, truly ecstatic. But as you ignored the looks of other passengers and the excessive whining from your own mother, you started to see the little details other passengers were sure going to miss. Like the delicate stitching in all servant uniforms, the woodwork on the massive clock leading into the dining area, and the use of electricity in even the thinnest corners of each room.

Even the servants knew better than to comment on your true royal status with Cal beside you, who was in fact failing to find even one flaw on the ship. You quite admired that actually - something you could fully agree on.

“This is so gorgeous,” Cal whispered beside you, your arm intertwined with his. You nodded in agreement, absentmindedly keeping the same pace as him. It took a few more minutes to finally make it to your living quarters - three separate rooms, each with their own living rooms and bathrooms. You thought it too much for yourself and wondered why your mother didn’t request adjoining rooms between you and her.

Without even entering your room first, your mother ventured into her own and started ordering her maids and servants around. You breathed in deeply, ready to see your living situation but were gently pulled back to let Cal walk through the door first. You stopped momentarily, puckering your lips in slight annoyance but followed behind him nonetheless.

“Even more beautiful than the hallway!” Cal laughed after his joyous exclamation, falling lazily on the first couch he saw. You couldn’t help but giggle at his childishness, watching him with a tiny grin as he reached over to play with the fresh flowers and their heavy vase.

“Perhaps the open sea breeze makes a person absolutely giddy because I have never seen you smile this much from inanimate objects,” you said, placing your handbag on the circular table and removing your gloves.

Cal rolled his eyes playfully and jumped up from his laying position to run to the brunch table full of sweets and bread, a first-class greeting for Titanic’s most distinguished guests. He popped the first sweet he saw into his mouth, closing his eyes and savoring the flavor. He groaned softly and waved you over, already picking up the second serving to give to you. You walked slowly, eyebrows furrowed due to his laid back nature, but decided to give in and lean your head forward, mouth open to be fed. He placed the sweet on your tongue and awaited your reaction as you chewed, grinning widely once your eyebrows raised in amazement.

“I am never wrong!” Cal laughed, picking up some bread instead, and offering you a piece. But before you could reach over and grab it, Cal threw it in his own mouth and ate it. You gasped playfully, mouth wide open and genuine laugh escaping from it. Cal smiled wide enough to crinkle his eyes, and he reached over to wrap you in a backwards hug, with your back pressed against his chest and his head in between your neck and shoulder. You howled with true happiness, your sounds becoming louder as he proceeded to step with you all over the room and tickling your side at the same time. With enough strength you pushed him away and ran to the outside deck with Cal hot on your trail. He ran after you, dodging the servants with luggage in their arms and their questions of where to put them, following you out on deck and gripping your wrist in time to twirl you around beautifully. This time you ended up face-to-face, gripping onto each other and chests still racking with laughs.

The crinkles on both sides of his eyes remained, and you felt your heart stir for him. He was always so rigid but in this moment he was carefree and young, absent from duties and absent from the raunchy world he was so accustomed to. Here you saw a side of him that you could definitely get used to. But that’s just what it was - a side, not all of him. Before you could assume more of the negatives of this situation, Cal leaned down and captured his lips with yours. His lips were smooth and experienced, moving slowly against your timid ones. And just how quickly the kiss came, it disappeared. The minor moment of intimacy was too little for your liking, but it still counted as the first time you weren’t disgusted by Cal’s attitude or personality. It confused you how swiftly your mind changed and concocted the perfect fantasy of Cal and your upcoming marriage. Like a spell’s flame ignited and burned your whole internal wall down.

Before either of you could comment, you were interrupted by a servant who began rapidly excusing himself. He exited the deck and left you there, still in Cal’s arms. You wanted to speak but Cal simply smiled, kissed your forehead, and let you go.

“We must finish unpacking and decorating if we want to be front row during the Captain’s welcome speech.”

And with that, Cal stepped back into your living room and began helping the servants put up the paintings he had dismissed you on earlier. You stood there perplexed and could only muster up enough energy to lean over the railing and watch the waves hit the side of the ship and the docks you still hadn’t departed.

Apologies sprung from Harry’s mouth as quickly as he ran, pillowcase full of clothes over one shoulder and his father’s briefcase with all the family’s important documents and the freshly printed photographs in the other. He bumped into dozens of shoulders but even as he yelled his apologies, he didn’t look back. He was finally leaving for the promised land of opportunity, a place where he and his family could establish themselves and their business. New flavors introduced to the Americans would for sure boost business, and Harry was so excited to be the first of his family to step foot outside of London. Just being at the docks was the farthest his family had traveled.

The ship was vast in length, somehow seeming larger as Harry ran toward the third-class boarding area. He could see the crew was beginning to clean up, unhitching the ropes from the dock and removing the boarding stairs. His feet were already burning, but he sprinted as fast as he could, yelling at them to wait for his arrival. People stared at him, throwing themselves out of the way as he crashed into shoulders and knocked bags off horses. The background check and health inspection lasted longer than he had expected, all of the poking and prodding seeming more purposeful than necessary.

One particular horse came close to knocking Harry off his feet, and his belongings scattered over the dock floor. Harry cursed under his breath and quickly gathered his bags back into his arms, looking up every so often to check if the ship had departed without him.

“I got this for you, man.”

Harry searched the floor for his important briefcase and but instead saw it held out for him to take. Harry thanked the man for his help, and before he could say anything else, the man spoke up cheerfully.

“Come on, we got a ship to catch!”

Harry beamed at his new acquaintance and sped down the docks beside him. With two of them side by side, almost everyone jumped out of their way as if it was instinct. They continued to laugh at each other with each short tumble the other took, enjoying the quick pace at which they were traveling.

They both stumbled onto the attached railing that was being pulled away from the main entrance of the ship. The officers asked for their tickets almost immediately and Harry rolled his eyes.

“We’re passengers, here.”

Both Harry and his running mate handed over their tickets for quick inspection.

“Have you been through all inspections?”

The man behind him held up his bags in complete annoyance, “Why do you think we’re late?”

The officers just nodded, letting both of them through the door. Together they hopped onto the ship and dashed down every corridor, following the signs for third-class passengers.

“I swear I didn’t think we’d make it!” Harry shouted, still muttering tiny apologies to those he shoved as he passed.

“Luck seems to be following me around lately,” the man laughed, following Harry down the flight of stairs.

“What room are you staying in?”

“B60.”

“You’re joking.”

The two stopped to compare tickets, scoffing in astonishment.

“Hello, roommate!” the man smiled. “Name’s Drake.”

Harry put one of his bags down on the floor and pushed his briefcase under his left armpit to extend his right arm out for a handshake. “Harry.”

“You stopping in Ireland or New York?”

“Going all the way to New York City,” Harry beamed, and he picked up his bag again and started for their shared room.

“Awesome, same. I’m actually from Montana but since New York will be the only stop in the states, I figured I would just hitchhike my way home.”

“I thought I heard an American accent,” Harry chuckled. He rounded the corner and came face-to-face with the room number they were assigned. He opened the door and peeked his head through to make sure everything was decent for the door to be held wide open. Once the coast was clear, Harry opened the door widely and threw his heavy luggage onto the bottom bunk in the far corner.

“Oh, awesome. I get top bunk,” Drake cheered, also hauling his bags onto the bed. Harry ducked into his bunk as Drake jumped up onto his, the two settling in quite easily compared to the unorganized chaos outside their room.

The small room was designed to offer the least comfort possible, but it was still better than most of the rundown apartments in the middle of London. The walls were white, with the ship's pipes extending across the ceiling and down the side of the adjoining walls. Two brown blankets were folded on top of each bunk, and a pillow with minimal fluff was tightly tucked underneath the bedspread. The room offered one sink and three bars of wrapped soap, toilet paper, and an unlit lantern that would be useful for late night trips to the washrooms. Even with such limited offerings, it was way more than Harry expected.

“How many other people are joining us in our room?” Harry asked while grabbing the two blankets from the end of his bed for a quick nap.

“Two other men, I believe. Pretty sure that’s what the two empty beds across the room are for.”

“Oh. Oops.”

Harry laughed at himself and snuggled deeper into his blankets, letting out a deep and relaxed sigh.

Drake leaned over the side of his bed to look down at Harry, a confused grin on his face. “You’re seriously going to take a nap and not explore the ship?”

Harry winked one eye open and turned his head slightly upward. “After this nap.”

Drake pondered for a moment, but he silently agreed, and became victim himself to the comfort of cotton blankets and a hard mattress.

The Captain spoke so eloquently, so loud and coherent, that his welcome was felt by everyone in the crowded first-class lounge area. He was met with praises and generous words as he greeted the crowd and his crew, tipping his head slightly as if to nod and remain mostly nonverbal.

Cal, of course, wanted to put his name into the Captain’s hat, so he pulled you along absentmindedly until you were in front of the Captain himself. As Cal droned on, you noticed how the Captain was practically trained for this, the tipping of his head and low grunts of amused agreement speaking for themselves. He was an elder man, around his mid-sixties it seemed, with pearl white hair neatly combed over toward the left side of his head, and a thick beard that matched his serious look.

As Cal began mentioning the architecture of the ship and asking the Captain’s crew just how fast the ship was able to go, the Captain turned toward you and held his hand out. He gave you a warm smile, introduced himself and proceeded to place a delicate peck on your gloved hand. You smiled back but had to contain the chuckle scratching its way up your throat as you caught a glimpse of Cal’s look of bewilderment.

“You must be the beautiful child of the famed American-Indian Lieutenant. The King of all Aztec riches and oil,” the Captain praised.

You nodded, “His one and only child, yes.”

The Captain’s smile grew impossibly bigger.

You continued, “My father’s legacy branches farther than the oil industry. I am proud to say he was funding countless important causes.”

The Captain beamed, “I have heard! Civil rights, the fight for free land, uh… what am I missing?”

“Equal rights for women.”

The Captain chuckled, “He was quite determined, I may say. Ridiculous, but determined.”

Before you could say anything else, Cal sweeped in to take the same hand the Captain had kissed earlier.

“Yes, my fiance’s bloodline sure loved to mix the order of things. When we settle in America we’re mainly going to focus on the railroad and mining industry.”

You gave a scarce grimace.

“Railroading! Invest where the money is, Sir! Art, automobiles, electricity, and dare I say civil rights!” the Captain laughed, patting Cal on the shoulder and leaving to greet the other passengers.

Cal stood still for a second and although you wanted to comment, you knew better. Instead, Cal seemed to knowingly pinch your hand a little too hard to the point you winced. But he cleared his throat, let you go, and simply walked the other way.

Their short nap made them miss the ship’s departure, but the second they awoke, Drake and Harry dashed through third-class lounging to the bow of the ship. The nice cool breeze pinched Harry’s cheeks as he ran, the faint feeling of ocean droplets flying through the air.

They reached the very tip of the front, cautiously looking over to somehow calculate the exact speed at which they were going. Dolphins raced each other beside the ship, acknowledging they had an entertained audience on board.

“You don’t think the ship’s gonna hit them, right?”

Harry let out a loud and uncontrolled laugh, “Well, now I do!”

Drake climbed onto the railing, carefully balancing himself with one hand gripping the thick iron strings. He stretched out his free arm, staring off over the horizon and enjoying the feeling of a rushed breeze slapping his chest.

“I swear I can see the Statue of Liberty already!” Drake yelled.

Harry grinned and climbed onto the railing as well, mimicking Drake’s position as to not accidentally fall overboard.

“Oh, this is madness!” Harry screamed, his hair flying all over the place. But he seriously could not contain the giant smile that widened with each new jump of a dolphin, Drake’s howls of joy, and with the ever changing color of the bright blue horizon.

It seemed to all be coming together - the colors, the voices, the American dream. Harry could feel the excitement in the pit of his stomach, and he swore it could not grow any larger for risk of actually exploding. But similar to his pondering back home in his chilly room, that luck that Harry had following him around was definitely to blame for such an adventure.

Harry raised a clenched fist in the air and joined Drake in all the howling.

“I’m the king of the world!”

Dinner went as expected. You were quiet and polite, only speaking when spoken to, and the same tunes of violin screeched beside your ears. It made you miss more gentle rhythms, more upbeat sounds, and a much more excited band. European music was beautiful, but it seemed rich individuals only enjoyed the same three songs.

You drew a warm bath in your private bathroom after saying goodnight to both your mother and Cal. You weren’t expecting any further intrusions, and you swore that if any knock sounded from outside while you were in the bath, you would kill them. You had reached the end of your tolerance for today. And no matter how much you tried to prevent it with cold water on your face, vanilla candles, and your own private batch of special herbs, the first stages of a long migraine sneaked their way through.

You lay in the warm water thankfully undisturbed, big toe playing with the tub handle and a glass of champagne in your hand. It was all quiet now, the only sounds being your breaths and the tiny bubbles in your bath popping almost silently. Without another thought, you placed your champagne down on the side table and sucked in a deep breath, plunging your head underneath the water. Your thick hair swam in every direction, tickling your shoulders. You kept your eyes tightly shut and counted.

Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen.

Once your lungs felt too constricted, you came back up and rubbed at your eyes. You cleared your nostrils and rubbed at your lips, the outside reality still unchanged. No noise, no new presence - just calmness.

And the water was becoming cold.

Please tell me what you think and if I should continue! Please also let me know if you would like to be tagged in any updates. Reblogs would certainly help this story reach even more people. Thank you. - xxMoni

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rainbowvamp · 3 years

Text

Gone and Back Again

Hello and welcome to chapter 5 of the manic creation that is my princess bride au. I’m slowly seeing my creative energy wind down, so the chapters for week three and four might be slightly more brief than this weeks and next week’s chapters are. It looks like there will be five for next week as well, but not all of them will fit the Albion Party prompts. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

~5100 words. (AO3 Link)

Arthur and Morgana are our main dynamic today. (platonic)

Warnings: suicidal ideation, depiction of depression, mentions of force feeding, memory loss, and non-consensual memory alterations. (All of this happens after the cut) Further: Lots and lots of talk of marriage. And I don't know how marriage works in the long ago times, so if it doesn't make much sense, please excuse me. Merlin is a little sus this chapter, but it gets explained in chapter 7. Oh, in this AU Arthur and Morgana are not related in any way. Just in case you were worried about that.

---

Becoming the King’s Ward is even more suffocating that being the daughter of a Lord. She is always expected to be dressed in finery, she is almost never alone, and far too many men look at her. Arthur does his best to keep them away, but it becomes clear in late Autumn that Uther doesn’t intend for her to be Arthur’s wife. He invites a neighboring king and his very lovely daughter to the Samhain festival.

Morgana is still seated in a place of honor, but her usual place beside Arthur is occupied by the Princess Vivian. The girl is so insufferable that it hurts to even think her name, and so Morgana does not spend much time speaking to her.

Morgana’s lack of socializing is excused time and again by someone or other who says that she’d just lost bother her parents, last week, less than a month ago, only a month ago, only a few months ago… She doesn’t have to pretend to be happy, at least, but she knows the excuse will not last.

Days pass and at Yule, a different princess is at the castle. This one stays for weeks because of the bad weather, and Morgana becomes a ghost in the palace.

Uther calls her to his chambers one night, a nobleman she doesn’t recognize is also there, likely for the sake over own reputation.

“Morgana, please sit.” Uther gestures to the place across from his desk, and she takes the seat gracefully, keeping her face cool and collected. “The Princess Elena has expressed concern for your wellbeing. She says you seem, despondent. I understand your parents death was very distressing, and no one expects your mourning to be finished, but I will ask this of you only once. You are to make sure the Princess Elena feels welcome here. She is very likely to become Arthur’s betrothed, and if you are to continue to stay here, you should become friendly with her. Do I make myself clear?”

He thinks I want his son. She nods and smiles sheepishly. An act she had learned pleased him early on. “I understand, Your Majesty. I will make every effort to show her kindness and make her feel welcome, just as you welcomed me.”

“Good girl.” He turned back to his papers and she stood, dismissed.

Arthur is waiting outside the door for her.

“What did he say to you?” He fell into step beside he and she smiled wanly.

“He intends to marry you to Elena, and I should not be so cold to her if I would like to stay here.”

“I would never let him turn you out. You know that.”

She and Arthur had built a tentative sort of alliance since she’d come to live in the palace. In keeping with that alliance, he took her hand in the guise of reassuring her, while slipping two gold coins into it. She placed them in the pocket of her dress. Beside the ring she had stopped wearing upon the king’s demand.

“I don’t think you’ll have much of a choice.”

“I’d go with you.” He promises, and she laughs.

“No you wouldn’t. Your loyalty is too bound to Camelot and it’s people.”

“You are a person of Camelot, aren’t you?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

They walk in silence until they reach Morgana’s chambers. At her door they stop and finish the conversation. “Princess Elena has no interest in marrying me. She wants to rule alone.”

Morgana smiled, “Good for her.”

“Yes. You should still be nicer to her.”

“I am nice!” She said with a scoff. When Arthur raised an eyebrow at her she conceded, rolling her eyes. “I’m not any less nice to her than I am to you.”

“Yes, but I know you’re nice inside. Elena just thinks you hate her.”

“I will smile at her at dinner tonight, will that make you happy?”

“Immensely.” Arthur bows and kisses her hand before he goes, and Morgana make a very unladylike face of disgust at him. He does this to exasperate her and amuse himself, and she plays into it every time.

—

The castle servants are not as kind as the ones from her home, or as loyal. Not to her, at least. Her stash of coins is discovered and taken, and the King is cold to her for many days. Each stash of coins she manages to acquire receives a fate much the same, until Arthur starts hiding the coins for her. His servant doesn’t take coins, but he does manage to “put away” every bit of traveling supplies Arthur manages to help her acquire.

Eventually, she gives up. Spring comes and goes, then another Winter. She mourns the loss of her freedom almost as much as she mourned Lancelot. Eventually the hopelessness gets the better of her, and she takes ill. Arthur visits her everyday, and at first she can muster the occasional conversation, but as time passes she finds she has the will to speak to him less and less, and eventually, she goes quiet. He is good, and kind. The last thing she intends to do is bless him and wish him well when she thinks that she will die.

She doesn’t die.

Uther calls physicians from every corner of the Kingdom to come and tend her, and promises the position of court physician to anyone who manages to cure her. She’s poked and prodded, and Arthur is by her side as often as he can be. She doesn’t trust these strange men and so she’s always grateful for his presence, even if she doesn’t say so. She wishes they would just leave her to die, but her body is too heavy to move, and her mind too clouded to protest.

Her dry lips barely part to take a little water. She can’t eat, and her sleep is fitful.

She goes through nearly a dozen physicians before one, Merlin Emerys, finally cures her.

“Take this.” Is all he says to her, not even bothering to do a physical exam.

She is laying on her side, curled in on herself, much the same position she’s been in all afternoon. She doesn’t reach fo the medicine when he offers it, and only his assistant, Gwen, can coax her into motion.

“He looks very young, doesn’t he?” Gwen asks as she smooths hair back from Morgana’s face. “He is, but he is very knowledgeable. Studied with all the best physicians in the five kingdoms. Here, let’s sit you up.” Gwen takes her under the shoulders and props her up. Arthur moves forward and adjust her pillows so she can lean against them, taking Morgana’s hand to help her shuffle back against them in the bed.

Her whole body hurts, aches with the motion. She feels hopeless, like nothing will ever be right again, and the only reason she doesn’t protest is because there is no point. She’ll just be force fed whatever concoction he has for her if she does. That was what happened with the first physician who had come to see her.

She can’t focus on anything that’s happening, she just takes what she’s given, letting Gwen give her medicine. She drinks and the bitterness she is expecting never comes. Whatever this tincture is, it’s sweet, and there is just enough of it for a few sips. She swallows it down and then Gwen lets her go, lets her rest against the pillows and returns to Merlin’s side.

Arthur and Merlin bend their heads together and whisper to each other. Arthur’s shoulders are tense, hunching inward, while Merlin speaks low and easy. Gwen stays beside him all the while, but says nothing. There is no ring on her finger, so she is not his wife. Morgana wonders idly if they are involved.

It’s the most interest she’s had in anything in months.

Arthur sees Merlin out of the room, and a servant comes in to bring Morgana something to eat. She finds that she is starving, and she eats everything given to her. It was a small amount of a wide array of food, the castle staff having been told to prepare anything and everything they thought might make her eat. She eats all of it, and Arthur watches her with wide eyes.

“What?” She asked when she finally stopped eating long enough to see her friend. The servant who had brought her dinner was out of earshot, straightening the room, but Arthur looked at her and held his tongue. Morgana watched his eyes, and then nodded, understanding. He sat beside her bed and took her hand in his.

When the maid moved further away to get Morgana’s bath water, Arthur leaned close to her and whispered, “The potion is already working. I’m afraid it is not just medicine he peddles.”

Morgana raised her eyebrows at the accusation, but Arthur shook his head, looking to the maid again. “I’m glad you’re eating well. I hated watching you be force fed.”

“You could have stopped it.” She reminded him, in fact, she had begged him to stop it, weak and breathy from too little time spent speaking in too many days.

“You would have died. I hated it, but I would not see you dead.”

“The kingdom will talk. The Crown Prince favoring an orphaned girl.”

“And orphaned Lady. It’s hardly out of character.”

“It is out of line with your father’s plans for you. Which princess does he like for you think season?”

Arthur laughed. “Princess Mithian.”

Morgana had never met princess Mithian. She found she wanted to, if only to compare her to all the other princesses that she had seen paraded in front of Arthur.

It was one of the first things she’d wanted to do in a long while.

“Get out.” She said, her voice stronger than it had been in weeks. “I need to dress.”

“It’s late afternoon.”

“And dinner is soon. I need to dress. Get out.”

Arthur laughed, and squeezed her hand as he stood, gesturing the maid over to help Morgana out of bed for the first time of her own accord in days.

—

The Lady Morgana goes down to eat dinner with the Prince and the King for the first time in a month that evening. Uther immediately calls for a servant to bring him Merlin, who he assigns the position of court physician. For the first time in weeks, Morgana smiles brightly, and whatever the man has done, Uther is glad for it.

Morgana eats heartily, almost unbecomingly heartily, but neither Uther nor Arthur begrudge her the meal. She is boney, and her dress is loose from the weight she’d lost in her sickness. She is to eat to her heart’s content.

The food Morgana eats tastes divine. For weeks everything in her mouth felt like ash and nothingness. Now the warm sting of wine and hot vegetables feels like home, like life, and she is eager to take it all in.

Uther asks her questions, and she is eager to speak, happily chatting about her intentions to take a morning ride, her desire to return to her studies, and even her desire to start looking for a husband.

This catches Arthur by surprise.

Morgana has not spoken of a husband of her own accord except to speak of her dead love, Lancelot. Something about this is strange.

When dinner is over, Arthur excuses himself and goes to find the Court Physician, Merlin.

“What did you do to her?” Arthur finds Merlin in the court physicians chambers with his assistant, Gwen. Merlin is wide eyed and watchful when Arthur enters his room.

“I gave her a medicine to heal her mind. She is better now, yes? Eating, active, back to her usual self?”

“Yes.” Arthur doesn’t dare make an accusation without more proof, but the wary way that Merlin’s assistant watches him makes Arthur think that he is on the right track. “I haven’t seen her this happy since before her parent’s deaths.”

“Grief can sometimes be so deep that it dulls everything else. What’s the point of food when you’re in so much pain you can’t fathom going on?”

Merlin sounds so wise, so knowledgeable, when he speaks, but Arthur is suspicious.

“If you say so. Well, whatever you’ve done. Thank you.”

“I live to serve.” The physician waits for Arthur to leave, but he doesn’t go without sizing Merlin up first.

He would be able to take him in a fight, if needs must.

—

Time goes by and Morgana is happier than Arthur has ever seen her and while he is glad for it, his suspicions never waver.

They are never left alone anymore, upon his father’s insistence. With Morgana’s willingness to speak of marriage, he thinks maybe he’s trying to discourage anything untoward between them. This makes it hard to ask Morgana the question he so desperately needs an answer to. He sees hints of it, but he doesn’t find hard proof of anything. She doesn’t stare off in the distance like she once did. She smiles like she has no worries. She never slips her hand into her pocket to touch Lancelot’s ring.

Merlin is a good court physician. He can heal almost any ailment, or at the very least help the patient be comfortable. Gwen is also very competent, though she is quiet. She doesn’t talk much to the other servants, as he’s heard from George. Or, as he’s made George tell him in his own quest to wheedle out whatever information he can about Merlin.

Merlin is a hard nut to crack. The man’s face never falls, always tranquil, always sure of himself. Even in the most dire circumstances, he is easy-eyed and softly smiling, like he expects everything will just go his way eventually.

Uther eats it right up.

Arthur doesn’t dare make his suspicions known until he has proof, and even then he thinks he’ll have a hard time having a man killed who’s done so much good, but a year on and he still doesn’t know what’s wrong with Morgana. Between his new and increasing duties as a knight and the crown prince, and Morgana’s now constant activity, he barely has time to speak to her, let alone discern what the problem might be.

He has nearly a whole sack of gold coins discreetly saved before he mentions to Morgana that if she wishes to leave, soon she might be able to.

When Morgana smiles serenely at him and says she has no wish to leave, Arthur knows that something is wrong. And he can’t do anything about it.

—-

Morgana’s parents have been dead for two years, a plenty adequate mourning time, when Uther starts suggesting matches. First a Lord’s son that Arthur knew to be a cad. Next a young Lord who was fine but very bland. After that, a prince from a neighboring Kingdom who had caught word of Morgana’s beauty and shown interest.

All of these men Morgana entertained, smiled at, was polite to, far more polite than she had ever been to Arthur before her mind sickness. She made them smile and completely enthralled them, only to turn down each proposal made, all smiles and apologies.

That, at least, gave Arthur some comfort.

But after a year of failed courtings, three years in the palace, people were starting to talk. Morgana is 21 and people start to call her unlovable. They don’t say such things about Arthur, and he is nearly 23. It seems unfair to him, that people are so cruel.

“If this keeps up, you might have to marry her, Arthur,” Uther said in passing once, rubbing his temple while he read an angry letter sent by yet another lord turned down by the Lady Morgana. “Gorlois used to speak of her unwillingness, but I never expected she’d be so brazen about it here.”

Arthur doesn’t think before he speaks, going over the grain reports from the latest council meeting in more detail. “Is that an option?”

The soft sound of Uther setting down the letter he’d been reading draws Arthur’s attention up from his own.

“Is that something you would consider?” Uther had made no secret of his distaste for Arthur’s own reluctance to marry. Uther, of course, hadn’t been married until he was almost 26, but he often forgot that.

“Maybe. If she was amenable.” Arthur shrugs. It would save them both a lot of trouble, at least. They were good friends, Arthur would never press for a physical relationship, and their marriage would be in name only. For Morgana’s sake, it would probably be the least painful option. Arthur wouldn’t mind not having his father trying to force him to fall in love with new women every season either.

Of course, there was still the question of status.

Uther doesn’t respond, but Arthur can feel the king’s eyes on him long after he’s gone back to reading over the grain report.

—

A month later, while they are having dinner, Uther asks Morgana if she has any interest in courting Arthur. Considering this is right in front of Arthur, he’s quiet embarrassed, but Morgana only smiles, laughs, and says, “Arthur is one of my dearest friends.”

“Dear friends make the best husbands.” He raises his brow at her, watching her every reaction. She looks over the table at Arthur, who smiles, shrugs. They don’t get much time to talk now, but maybe if they were courting, he would finally have time to get to the bottom of Morgana’s drastic change in demeanor.

“Well, I suppose there’s no harm in courting. It can always be broken if we don’t agree with each other?” She looks at Arthur when she asks this question, and Arthur nods, solemn.

Uther grins and claps his hands together. “Excellent.” He just seems happy to have two problems off his hands all at once.

And Morgana’s unwillingness to marry had been a problem. Rumors started to fly that she’d been holding out for the prince since their first meeting, wrapping him around her finger for three long years until he had no choice but to beg Uther to court her. Morgana never mentions these rumors, and so neither does Arthur.

Morgana’s early morning ride is now accompanied occasionally by Arthur, and George. They sometimes take their breakfast alone, save for a chaperone, usually the Lord Agravaine, who had also been seeing over Morgana’s lands.

It’s on one of their shared rides that Arthur manages to tell her that he won’t expect anything “wifely” out of her if they do end up married. Morgana just smiles and nods, shrugs like this doesn’t particularly bother her.

This is too far. And so he tests her.

“Where do you keep his ring, now?”

She blinks and looks at him. “What?”

“His Ring. Lancelot’s ring. Where do you keep it?”

She looks at him blankly, blinks a few times, and then shrugs. “I forget.”

I forget. A woman so distraught at the loss of her love that she’d been willing to leave behind everything she knew with no money and only the dress on her back, but she’d forgotten the last thing that she’d received from him? This was why she felt better after the potion was drunk, he was sure of it now. She’d been made to forget the things that caused her pain.

But still she’d refused to marry. The love ran deep for her. Arthur wouldn’t pretend to understand it, but he respected it none the less.

“It was that damn physician who did this to you.” Arthur muttered, but Morgana was unaffected, distracted by the buzzing of a few nearby bees, smiling.

He wonders if this was what Morgana was like with him, this Lancelot fellow she’s so lost without. He hopes she was. That he brought her joy with whatever time they had together.

Arthur has a physician to see, so he ends their ride early, despite Morgana’s protests.

George is glad to be heading back, at least.

—

As soon as they return, Arthur storms the court physicians quarters and confronts Merlin about what he’s done to Morgana. Merlin holds firm that he’s done nothing magical, and has only given a sick girl medicine to make her better.

“How is it better to forget your love?”

“She was dying for him, Arthur. Doesn’t your friend deserve a chance to live her life, free of pain?”

“Life is full of pain. You can’t simply get rid of it. What sort of heartless bastard are you?”

Merlin’s eyes flash with anger and maybe something else, but before Arthur can get a good look at it, Gwen, his assistant, takes Merlin by the elbow and reminds him they have a pressing appointment with an expectant mother in the lower town.

Arthur lets them go, but he doesn’t forget that interaction.

—

For a year he courts Morgana, and finally, at Yule, he makes a public proposal. She accepts, as she had agreed she would weeks before, and the Yule celebration becomes a celebration of their engagement. Their wedding is set for Samhain of the next year. The wedding of the crown Prince and the King’s only son is going to be a giant affair, the whole of Camelot will rejoice in it.

At least, that’s what everyone keeps telling him. Morgana seems content enough to marry him, though he can’t help feeling distraught where this marriage is concerned. Morgana isn’t in her right mind without her memories of Lancelot completely intact, or blocked off, or dimmed, or whatever it is that damn sorcerer has done to her.

So, finally, Arthur goes to Merlin and demands he lift the spell on Morgana.

“My Lord, I haven’t cast a spell on her. I gave her medicine. Medicine that saved her life, might I remind you. Even if I could simply reverse it’s effects, which I can’t, she would only be right back where she was when I gave it to her, wasting away with mind sickness.” Merlin’s face, when he says this, shows no remorse, not a hint of anything resembling pity. He just looks… blank.

Arthur hadn’t wanted to hear this. He grit his teeth and closed his eyes, trying to collect himself. “What exactly did your medicine do?”

“It blocked some of her ability to feel emotional pain. She still has all her memories, if that’s what you’re worried about. She simply doesn’t hurt when she thinks of them.”

“You say that like it’s not a terrible thing.”

“I’m a physician. My whole life is dedicated to easing people’s sufferings.”

Arthur is very glad Gwen isn’t here. He’d feel terrible starting a fight in front of a woman.

Arthur clocks Merlin in the mouth for the blasé way that he talks about taking Morgana’s feelings from her. “I want you out of this castle. We’ll find a new court physician. Whatever your remedies are, I don’t want them for my people.”

Merlin glared but didn’t say anything back. Arthur stormed out of the room and only once he was down the hall did the commotion start in the physicians quarters.

Arthur felt satisfied, then, that at least he’d gotten a rise out of the man.

—

Uther gives him grief about firing the court physician, but when Arthur stands his ground and says he doesn’t like the way the man behaves, Uther simply nods and agrees to send the man, and his assistant packing.

He hadn’t held out much hope for the possibility that Morgana would return to her old self when the man was gone, but when three days passed and Morgana still seemed unbothered, mood entirely unchanged, Arthur’s last little bit of hope died.

He promised himself that he would do right by her, then, and committed himself to honoring the memory of her love. He’d make sure to remind her regularly, even use the ring Lancelot had given her as her wedding ring, if she wasn’t opposed to the idea.

—

Their engagement goes well, and Morgana throws herself into the wedding preparations. She seems to be enjoying herself, and Arthur is glad of that, at least. They eventually find a new court physician, a wisened old man named Gaius. Arthur takes his suspicions about Morgana to the man, but he claims he can do nothing for it. Even so, something about the look on his face makes Arthur suspicious.

He sits down to breakfast with Morgana in his chambers, and while his manservant is attending to business on the other side of the room, he takes her hand in his to get her attention.

Morgana looks away from her breakfast and smiles easily at him. He would be a liar if he said he wasn’t glad Morgana smiled more now than she had years ago, but something about it always felt wrong. Knowing she was being forced to suppress the memories of her dead love made that feeling of wrongness infinitely greater.

“I’ve said this before,” He started, and she raised an eyebrow, curious, but without any bite. He used to quite like that she was always subtly making fun of him. “But I feel the need to say it again, with the wedding just a few weeks away. Morgana, I will not expect anything of you in this marriage. I do care for you, but I don’t love you anymore than you love me. You will be an excellent queen, and I’m grateful to have you by my side, but this is a marriage of friends, and equals.” Despite our differences in stations goes unsaid, but not unheard.

Morgana’s smile becomes softer. “I know you don’t. I wouldn’t be marrying you if you did. I-“ She stopped, trailed off, really, blinking like she was blinking away some thought she couldn’t be bothered to remember. “The preparations are going splendidly, anyway. It will be a beautiful ceremony. Unfortunately large, but it can’t be helped. We can’t refuse anyone an invitation.”

The way her mind changes track from the aftermath of the marriage to the wedding itself worries him, and he thinks that he should’ve pushed harder for a cure of some kind. But he dared not do anything that might alert Uther that he suspected an enchantment was placed on Morgana. Uther’s intolerance for magic had extended to those under its influence before, and he wouldn’t risk Morgana’s life like that.

“No, I suppose not. Any friends you’re looking forward to seeing?”

Morgana laughed, “Other noble ladies have never liked me much, I ruffle their feathers.” She pulled her hand away from his and went back to her breakfast, but Arthur was not quite done.

“I want you to use Lancelot’s ring, as a tribute to him.” He watches her carefully when her body stills, eyes distant as she looked down at the fruit she’d just speared with her fork. Again, she blinks away a thought and smiles.

“I don’t know where it is.” She smiles, but it’s tight. “I haven’t even thought of it in years.”

“Would you like me to help you look for it? It might be nice to have.” Even if she says no, he thinks he’ll try to convince her to find it. Maybe whatever connection it gives her will help bring her back from whatever spell Merlin put on her.

“Maybe,” She says it like she can’t be bothered either way. He swallows and nods.

“Let’s look for it. You used to love it so much. I’d like you to wear it again, once we’re married.”

“The wedding is in just a few weeks, and I haven’t seen that ring in years. Do you really think we’ll find it in time?” One of her eyebrows raises, a question, and maybe a challenge.

“How hard can it be? It’s probably in with the rest of your jewelry.”

Morgana laughed wholeheartedly now, still delicate enough for a lady, but very obviously laughing at him.

“What?” He asked, and she just shook her head.

“I don’t think you realize how much jewelry you’ve given me over that last two years. Your courting gifts are very unoriginal.”

—

Sure enough, her vanity and another separate chest are both full of Jewelry. She goes through her vanity while Arthur checks the chest, but neither of them find it. Morgana gives him a knowing sort of “didn’t I tell you” look, but Arthur is determined. Morgana is his friend and that ring is important to her, whether she remembers it or not. He will not see it lost forever to time and a terrible curse.

“Alright, fine. So it’s not with your jewelry. Check the pockets of your dresses, then. I’ll look under the bed.”

Morgana laughed at him again. “You really think I’d find it in a pocket after all these years? Surely a laundrywoman would have taken it out and put it with my things.”

He leveled her with a gaze that brokered no arguments. “Humor me.”

She rolled her eyes at him, and at least this teasing felt a bit like the Morgana he’d known for a short while before she’d been influenced.

Arthur got to his hands and knees, then down to his stomach, to look beneath every piece of furniture in the room. The bed, the night stands, the wardrobe. He even looked behind her changing screen and under the empty tub, but there was no ring in sight.

The rustling of fabric at the wardrobe stops and Arthur looks around the privacy screen to see Morgana, standing frozen at the door, head bent, eyes locked on something Arthur can’t see.

He gets up and approaches her quietly, trying not to startle her.

“Morgana?” He asks when he’s still a few feet away, trying to see around the wardrobe doors to what she’s holding, but his vantage point is no good. He moves to stand behind her, looking over her shoulder.

In her pale, shaking hand, lies a dull, tarnished ring. The band is far too wide to be fitting of a noble lady, let alone a queen, and the stone doesn’t glitter so much as gently diffuse light. He’s seen it only a few times before, after his father banned her from wearing it, but he thinks this must be it.

“I found it.” When she whispers it, her voice is choking. He gently turns her toward him and there are tears in her eyes. When she looks up at him, he sees every ounce of pain he remembers from their first meeting, and maybe more, laced with years of regret. “I can’t marry you.”

Arthur nods, feeling tears prick his own eyes as he pulls her into a hug. “We’ll figure something out.” He promises, and she sobs into his shoulder, soaking his shirt through. He pats her on the back and swears that he won’t force her to be married to him. Not on his life.

He explains his suspicions of Merlin to her, and when she goes to bed that night, she’s distraught. The next morning she goes for her daily ride without him, presumably to think, and she never returns.

#albionparty21 #morgana #arthur #fic #bbc merlin #pbau au proper

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littlemixnet · 4 years

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Little Mix on what it takes to survive being the most bullied band in pop

Still teenagers when they were catapulted to fame, superstardom came at a price for Little Mix. They open up to Francesca Babb about the soaring highs and crashing lows of the past nine years. It is the end of our YOU cover shoot, and I am facing the lesser-spotted sight of a barefaced Little Mix. Wet wipes swipe back and forth across their faces and, as the foundation departs in a deluge of coffee-coloured tissues, Jesy Nelson and Leigh-Anne Pinnock, both 29, and Jade Thirlwall and Perrie Edwards, both 27, visibly relax into their tracksuits and boyfriend jeans, shoulders dropping as they settle into themselves. I’m so used to seeing them contoured and camera ready that I assumed full glamour was their happy place. But perhaps the real Little Mix are not the war-paint-and-leotard-clad pop stars we’ve spent almost ten years watching grow up, but rather the four women they have become behind the glare of the spotlight. It’s those four women that I’m intrigued to meet. Since winning The X Factor nine years ago, there have been highs – selling over 50 million records globally, a significant percentage of which were self-penned, and creating enough accompanying make-up lines and merchandise to keep them and their families comfortable for the foreseeable future (recent reports suggest they have earned a combined £28.5 million to date). But there have also been lows – perpetual picking apart by both the public and the press, bullying and vitriol from online trolls. The most extreme cases of which led Jesy to attempt suicide during Little Mix’s early days in 2013 (she regards a tweet from the controversial Katie Hopkins – ‘Packet Mix have still got a chubber in their ranks. Less Little Mix. More Pick n Mix’ – as the ‘pinnacle point’ for her depression) and pushed Perrie into an ongoing struggle with anxiety. Fame has changed them. In some ways they are still youthful and silly – dropping phrases into conversation that wouldn’t be out of place in a playground – yet, in others, they are wise beyond their years, diving headfirst into battles on feminism, race and mental health. They’re fun enough to be light relief, smart enough to inspire a generation struggling with the pressures of youth and social media even before a pandemic was thrown at them, and ballsy enough to leave Simon Cowell’s record label because they didn’t feel he had their best interests at heart. ‘It’s never really been a cruise, has it?’ Jade ponders, a copy of social activist Bell Hooks’ 2002 feminist theory Communion: The Female Search For Love in her hand (not for show, I might add; when I ask her about it, she is well versed in its content). ‘It’s either been a really big high, or a really big low.’ Jesy, who has found herself the target of some of the cruelest contempt from the world outside Little Mix, agrees: ‘Some of the best times, some of the worst times.’ Comments on her weight, her looks, her place in the band, comments that she should take her own life, all led her into a deep depression and the aforementioned suicide attempt. Her documentary last year, Jesy Nelson: Odd One Out, revealed her journey through it all and, while harrowing, it is essential viewing on the realities of growing up in a world dominated by social media. ‘Before we got in the group, I never looked at myself and thought, “I don’t like that” – I don’t think any of us did. I never thought, “Oh god, I’m fat”, and then we got in the industry, and we all started wanting to change things about ourselves. It’s so sad. There are things [in the past] I definitely wish I hadn’t done,’ she says, referring to the suicide attempt, in which she took an overdose after a two-year battle with depression and an eating disorder. ‘But would I be the person I am today if I hadn’t gone through all of that?’ ‘There was a time when it was worse than it is now,’ adds Leigh-Anne, who has increasingly used her own Instagram channel to vocalise her experience of racism, both overt and underlying, throughout her time in the band. ‘I guess we’re taking steps forward, but I fear for my [future] daughters…’ ‘It makes me not want to have a kid,’ agrees Jesy. ‘Those insecurities that we all have now because of social media, imagine having that embedded in you as a child?’ Before you write them off as four very lucky girls ungratefully complaining about a lifestyle so many dream of, I should point out that they are fully aware of the paradox of their privilege. I suppose the point is, it’s not too much to ask to not be bullied to the point of hospitalisation as a by-product, is it? ‘Little Mix has changed our lives for the better, and our families’ lives, and we have achieved so much,’ says Perrie. ‘Don’t get me wrong,’ agrees Jesy (a warning I will hear repeatedly throughout our hour together, perhaps thanks to almost a decade of their quotes being blasted out of context for click-bait). ‘I’m not going to sit here and say we’ve got a terrible life, because we haven’t, but I do think our innocence was taken from us.’ It’s a while since the girls last did any press. Lockdown saw a halt to any activity they had planned, including the launch of their new talent show, BBC1’s Little Mix: The Search (in which they, well, search for a new band to mentor and join them on tour). But the time apart has not diminished their ability to finish each other’s sentences and jump to each other’s aid. It has, it seems, been really rather good for them and allowed them to come back fired up for the release of their sixth album, Confetti, which came out this week. ‘It was needed,’ agrees Jesy. ‘We’re never not with each other and we’re always busy. Our mornings start early, we finish really late.’ Being at home has meant more time spent with their families, with Jade even starting her own show on MTV with her mum Norma. Called Served!, the self-filmed series saw the pair interview celebrity drag queens and challenge each other to cooking competitions. ‘I love drag culture,’ she says, ‘and me mam was by herself in lockdown, so I thought it’d be something nice to keep her entertained.’ ‘Your mum could be on Loose Women,’ Leigh-Anne muses. ‘Imagine our mams on a show!’ shrieks Jade. ‘Nobody else would get a word in edgeways with my mam,’ laughs Perrie. ‘Ooh, when Debbie goes off on Twitter,’ says Jade, of Perrie’s mum’s habit of weighing in on comments from haters. ‘My mam will text me, have you seen Debbie’s been going off on someone!’ It is interesting that all four talk frequently about their mums throughout our chat, and yet there is no mention of fathers. While their mums often appear on Instagram, a sighting of Perrie’s dad on her 23rd birthday was extremely rare. Perhaps the Little Mix dads’ absence in the narrative is because the four girls were predominantly raised by their mothers (all of their parents separated when they were younger), and another reason the group’s bond is so tight. Little Mix are each other’s wall of arms, their own personal bodyguards. Jesy, they unanimously agree, is Scary Mix (although I find her a delight), which is interesting given her own inability to bat off other people’s words. ‘When it’s you on your own dealing with something personally,’ Jesy says, ‘It’s completely different. You feel so vulnerable alone, but we are a force when we’re together.’ It’s not hard to see, in today’s social-media obsessed society where there is little retribution for cruelty, why four attractive, successful young women, with attractive, successful young boyfriends (two footballers – Perrie dates Liverpool’s Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain, Leigh-Anne is engaged to Watford’s Andre Gray – while Jade is with Rizzle Kicks singer Jordan Stephens and Jesy is going out with Our Girl actor Sean Sagar), who seem to be living a dream life have found themselves at the heart of a whirlwind of vitriol. There was the infamous spat with Piers Morgan, in which he mocked them for posing naked but for the insults that have been hurled at them painted on their bodies. He accused them of using sex to sell records and called them ‘foul-mouthed, talentless, clothes-allergic little dimwits’, which is not how I find them to be. ‘I take Piers with a pinch of salt,’ Jesy says, rolling her eyes. ‘He does it to cause drama, so I take no notice. When we won The X Factor, we didn’t look like a generic girl band: we’re all different shapes and sizes, we didn’t dress sexy, so immediately everyone was, “What’s this?”’ ‘Usually, when you see a girl band, they’re perfection, they have six-packs – and we didn’t,’ continues Jesy. ‘People saw us as kids, so even though we’re now women, people still think of us that way, so when we come out on stage in leotards, they think, “That’s disgusting!”’ ‘One Direction didn’t get the s**t we get, because they’re men,’ states Leigh-Anne. ‘It’s like, “They’re four girls, let’s come at them”. As soon as it’s girls, they think, “Oh you slag.”’ ‘When it’s men, it’s celebrated, but the minute women sexualise themselves and feel powerful doing it, we’re told to rein it in,’ adds Jade. ‘We’re conditioned to think that women are there to be these innocent and pure beings and the minute you step out of that, it’s carnage.’ Little Mix, however, are not scared of embracing that carnage and of sparking a debate. For their show The Search, Jade describes how it was important for them to set the tone on respect when each new person auditioned. ‘Because we are small women, it’s important to show people that they need to respect us, that we know what we’re talking about and we need to be listened to,’ she says. ‘There’s no nastiness,’ continues Jesy about the show, which has been praised for modernising and freshening up the age-old TV format. ‘There’s no making anyone feel uncomfortable for entertainment.’ They also insisted a large part of their budget be dedicated to looking after the contestants’ mental health, understanding, first hand, the pitfalls of talent shows. The Search is not their first attempt at diversifying their talent. As a group, they have LMX make-up line and also a perfume, Style By Little Mix. Subsequently, they have become expert businesswomen, refusing to make the mistakes of pop groups past, so often left completely penniless at the end of their careers. ‘I remember walking into an early label meeting and saying, “This is who we want to be, this is the campaign we want, this is the imagery we want,”’ says Jade. ‘We knew our brand from the get go and we very much steered that ship.’ It’s a long way from their (as Jesy puts it) ‘working-class backgrounds’. Since joining the band, each one has bought their mum a house and, while their tale is not entirely rags to riches, the jump from Primark to Prada in recent years has certainly been significant. When it comes to business, Perrie describes herself and Leigh-Anne as the ones who will often seek a compromise in difficult situations, while they send Jesy and Jade in when deals need to be made. ‘Jesy’s the badass,’ Perrie laughs. ‘Whenever I’m scared, I’ll stand behind her. She’s the one who puts her foot down in a boardroom full of men and says, “It’s going to be this way.” But we pick our battles. We don’t just argue about every decision – it’s when we feel we have to.’ ‘Nobody could say that we are difficult, and if they do, they’re lying,’ says Leigh-Anne adamantly. Adds Jesy: ‘We know what we want, and we know what kids want.’ Little Mix have lived over a third of their lives in the spotlight. They’ve seen how things work, how things don’t, and they’ve learnt how to cope with it all. The lows may have been spectacularly low, but the highs have surpassed any of their expectations. Their story is not your classic fairytale, but it’s one they have learnt they can write their own ending for. If the Little Mix I meet today is anything to go by, I wouldn’t expect that ending to come any time soon. Little Mix’s new album Confetti is out now. Their movie LM5: The Tour Film will be in cinemas nationwide on 21 and 22 November.

#little mix #you magazine 2020 #article #2020 #confetti promo

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struggling-with-time · 3 years

Text

The Lady In White [Original work]

Warnings: Attempted suicide, infidelity

Words: 1.9k

A/N: Nobody asked for this, but here is a piece of original writing

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

No matter how much she denies it, the look of disgust upon her fiancés has burned itself into her memory. No matter how much she drowns her sorrows in bottles upon bottles, the words remain the same. And the unanswered questions only keep stacking the more seconds that pass her by. Why is this so difficult?

She slams her bottle onto the table, her head hanging low, a headache weighing her down like the world is weighing down her shoulders. Leaving her slouched over as she tries to get up. A plate falls to the floor as she moves from the couch. She jumps up and away, her hair falling to cover her eyes. A sigh escaping her as she takes in the surrounding scene, the prestige and expensive couch all ruined. The shattered plate decorating the now stained carpet. Her work desk in the corner all cleared off unimportant items that are scattered around the room.

She glances over at the window. When was the last time she had seen the stars? No. Stop that. She shakes her head as she turns her eyes away from the window. The curtains are still drawn. Nobody has been in there, nobody has dared to cross her, just to open the curtains. Of course not. She was the one who had yelled at the poor servants, “If you even THINK about disturbing me! I will make you regret you were ever born!”

How ironic, she was always the one on top. Watching the people around her look up to her as she rose through the ranks, always so perfect and calculated, the perfect woman. Who would want to mess with her? Well, everyone, so many people wanted to watch her fall, and how they have been watching. She can feel the eyes watching down upon her as she lets every chance of a better life escape through her fingers. Not even having the power to keep grasping the fleeting chances.

She turns around only to spot herself in the now broken mirror. What a mess she has become. A sting on her left-hand makes her lift it. Dried blood has decorated itself on the usually elegant and graceful hand. The pain slowly leaving her to be replaced with the usual numbness that always comes after such an episode. The emptiness of the castle mirroring her heart.

She can’t help but sigh. If her mother saw her now, she would be more than disappointed. She had finally risen above her and her mother’s lowly birth, and now? She had thrown it all away in the name of love. What a disgusting thing to fall from grace for.

A dry laugh leaves her, as she comes to contact with her own eyes. The ball gown all wrinkled from sleeping in it, the corset missing. Her hair a bird’s nest in the making, the wine stain so ever-present. The golden dyed hair feeling like a misgiven gift. What a perfect princess.

She scorns herself.

Perfect princess? Try social outcast. Favour fallen. Disgraced.

She flings open the door to her private office, scaring the half-asleep guard beside it. Of course, he wouldn’t expect her to come out of hiding so soon after. Normally she would stay in there for weeks until it became impossible to make new excuses.

This time, it has barely been 3 days.

She gracefully stomps down the hall, growing more frustrated by each step taken. Her personal “guard” trying to follow her as she storms past everyone. The pity looks of all the surrounding servants, and the guard behind her trying to yell after her to slow down. How she hates that guard. He wouldn’t be able to protect her if any harm were to come her way. He would be the first to either flee or plead for his life. She knows he’s only there to keep her in check, and for the ruling Queen to always know where she’s at.

She barely avoids a butler who refuses to step out of his way to let her pass by. What a useless servant. Nobody around her even thinking about showing her any respect. Why should they? When not even the Queen would show her respect, let alone her fiancé, the 2nd son in line to the throne, will respect her. Then who would?

She turns the last corner of one of the long hallways in this maze of a castle.

Her destination in sight.

Her room.

She yet again slams her door. So much for prim and proper and all that etiquette. She leans her back against the large door. Her bedroom is larger than the one she grew up in, yet it still feels like the 2nd least welcoming room in the castle. The first being the bedroom of her fiancé.

She slowly crosses the room until she is standing in front of her vanity. She used to hold herself with so much dignity, now not even the maids respect her enough to come to help her out of her clothes.

She lets out a frustrated yell, as she struggles with the dress, that’s far too cheap for a princess to wear.

“Get off!” She screams out in her room.

It seems to help, only a mere minute of struggling more, and the poor excuse of a ballgown is lying on the floor, all ruined and horrible looking. The wine stain clear as ever against the white fabric. She pulls on the nightgown that has yet to be changed from the last time she slept in here. That’s over 3 nights ago.

She falls into the chair in front of her vanity, gathering the courage to take out the up hairdo. There she is sitting, all alone in a castle bustling with people all hours of the day, no matter where you are. No servant even near, no one serving the 2nd prince’s fiancé.

The golden dyed hair slowly falling as she pulls more and more tangled decorations out of her hair. She still wishes for her brown hair, but that’s not the colour of a princess’ hair. A princess has golden hair. She is elegant. She is prim. She is proper. And most importantly, she is of noble birth.

A real princess is everything Cressida of the Vaintett house isn’t. How she hates that name, a name chosen by the Queen. Not even her name was good enough. She was hastily added into a fallen house to surpass the records and given a new first name for no one to realise she isn’t of noble blood. Not to mention, Cressida being a common name for noblewomen meaning gold.

She snorts at the cliché of the name. Unladylike.

If she wishes, she could hold a whole tea-party only filled with namesakes. All of them better fit for her position.

She turns her head twice in the mirror as she deems it good enough for now. The full moon lighting up her room as she stands up from the vanity.

A sigh of relaxation leaves her, as she can’t help but open the window to the outside, letting the cool air of the fresh summer night stream in. They had been celebrating the coming of summer during the ball that spewed her last scandal. It had been going fine; she had played her role of fiancé perfectly. While her fiancé had proclaimed how much he loved another woman during the royal toast, and then drunkenly dumped his filled wine glass over her as he described his love for the newest woman of the week.

She leans against the window, the roof of the castle slanting towards her as she leans against it. The window fitting in height for her to rest her arms on it and have her head be outside. Enabling her to enjoy the sight of the garden. All this because her bedroom is tucked away in the corner of the west wing of the castle. The west wing is better known amongst the public for being the wing of the nobles that have fallen from grace and favour of the royal family.

Why do they have to hate her so much?

The Queen had personally picked her out to be the 2nd prince’s fiancé, to keep him in line, but it didn’t take long before he started his scandals back up, and she had lost all favour of the Queen. It didn’t help that the crown prince had looked her way more than once, despite already being married to another pawn of the Queen. How foolish of her to even believe that he had wanted more than her warming his bed, while his wife had been out and about helping out on orphanages. Because of course, the crown princess had to be an absolute precious sweetheart, that the entire country adored. How could she ever compare to that?

She can feel the frustration floating through her body once more.

She needs more freedom now.

She hoists herself out of the window.

This is not the first time she has done this. Few things compare to walking on the roof of a castle. She lets out a sigh yet again; the mood seeming to sombre with her as she gets the foothold to stand on the roof. Her previously white nightgown has by now been stained with red from the dried blood.

What a beautiful night.

She takes in the clear sky and the shining moon. Her feet nearing the edge of the building. Tonight, would truly be a good night to create a spectacle for everyone to enjoy.

The lady in white barely shivers as the wind blows right through her. Her toes curling around the edge of the roof. She softly closes her eyes as she spread her arms, like a pair of wings finally spreading. Welcoming the emptiness into her mind to free herself from the claws of the Queen. All that takes is a slight lean towards.

So that is what she does, she leans.

However, the wind has other plans for her, as it knocks into her right foot letting it slip from underneath her, sending her tumbling to the left desperately trying to regain a foothold on the tiled roof. She nearly does, when a missed step sends her falling, barely letting her enjoy the feeling of falling. As she collides with a servant balcony 2 floors beneath the attic. All the air gets knocked out of her as two servants watch in horror.

Neither of them moves to get help. Watching as the disgraced fiancé of the 2nd prince lies outside, in a nightgown that is slowly turning redder as more seconds pass.

Cressida looks up at the clear night sky and observes a shooting star flying past. Wishing upon her heart, that she is finally free. Her wish the only thing on her mind as she slips into unconsciousness. -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

#original story #original work #noblewomen #royal #royalty #tw suicide #tw infidelity #tw cheating #tw attempted suicide #delias own writing #kings and queens #prince #princess #wish for freedom #freedom

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jawritter · 4 years

Text

Broken Me..

Ch. 5

Summery: The Dallas Convention couldn't have come at a worse time for Jensen. His world fell apart earlier that morning, but was expected to just act like everything was normal. You and a friend were at the convention for her birthday. Life hasn't been that great for you either, but a forced meeting on stage changes two worlds. Will you be able to put this broken man back together again...

Series Warings: Cheating, shitty marriage, Danneel is a bitch, I unfortunately have to put that as a warning because some people tend to get turnt up about it if you don’t... Smut, Crying, Suiside Attempt, brief discription of suicide attempt and recovery, depression, hints of self loathing, language. I think that’s it... Suicide Trigger warnings will be placed over each chapter!

Chapter Warnings: Language, hint of possible mentally abusive marriage, hint of possible PTSD, Angst. Fluff. I think that’s it...

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Word Count: 2123

A/N: BINGE READ TIME!! As always all mistakes are mine! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is gold!! Hope you all enjoy this one!!

Want More? Check out my masterlist!!

****MASTERLIST****

Jensen's clock went off in what felt like only minutes, when really it had been about three hours.

You felt his arm lift off you, reaching around him to slap at the offending sound that was coming from the alarm clock sitting on the nightstand next to the bed.

You didn't want to move. It felt like you had just fallen asleep.

Jensen was right about one thing...

As people we do crave that human’s connection and affection with someone...

You hadn't slept that well since the night before Damon and yourself had split up, even if it was only for a few hours.

You felt Jensen start to brush your hair out of your face, thinking you were still asleep, trying to gently wake you. You weren't really ready for this to end. Who the hell would be?

You did know that y/f/n would be waking up soon, she doesn't know you're gone, and would probably freak out. So as much as you’d have gladly stayed wrapped up here in the covers with Jensen’s warm body pressed against your own, you knew all good things must come to an end, and it was time to go back to your separate realities..

Moving around, and forcing your eyes open you look up into the most beautiful forest green eyes you have ever seen. Little light lines forming around the edges when he smiled at you.

"Good morning." He said, voice pretty ruff from being asleep so hard, and man if the circumstances were different, you’d have to admit that it did things to you...

"Good morning"

You try to unwrap yourself and sit up, but the fact that Jensen still had his arms wrapped around you, as well as one of his long bowed legs draped over yours. Moving just wasn't going to happen.

"Just a few more minutes.....Please." He mumbled, a look on his face you understood all too well before he decided to bury his face into your hair where you couldn’t see him anymore. You were having the same problem. You knew when you got up, this may never happen again. You knew that once you left his arms.

That was it...

You were alone again...

In that instance you reminded yourself that he wasn't yours to begin with. The two of you weren't together. The man just lost his wife, and family for Christ sakes. He didn't want to be with someone like you. Some of the twitter comments echoing through your head.

"Jensen, you got to get ready for your panel. You've got a long day ahead of you." You say, trying to convince him that he needed to get up.

The longer you laid there you knew the harder it would be to leave. It was gonna hurt like a bitch either way, but it was better to make a clean break, the longer you prolonged this, the harder it would be for the both of you…

"I don't have to be down stairs for another hour." He said, sounding a little disappointed at the fact that you wanted him to get up, and that just made you feel guilty. So you settled back down into his hold, and decided you’d just deal with whatever came as far as the gut wrench heartache you were sure was to come later when you had to leave him..

"I'm not looking forward to this today." He was almost whispering, like he was afraid someone would hear outside the door. "I'm not ready to answer questions about Danneel, and what happened; or is going to happen between us."

He fell silent, and you felt his fingers brushing through your hair again, and it took all the will power in your body not to nuzzle further into his neck..

"Then don't. Tell from the start that you will not be answering any questions concerning Danneel, or your personal life. If they really are your fans they will respect that you're not ready to talk about all of it yet."

You could literally feel the tension returning to his body that wasn’t there a moment ago as he started to think about all the fan interaction he had to do today..

"I hope you're right." He said, silence falling over the two of you.

You had lost all your will to try and get up now. Not wanting to leave him this stressed out. You hated to see him struggle like this.

"Will you be there today? For the panels and stuff?" He asked, stress and tension apparent in his voice, and it made your heart hurt...

"I'll be there." You tell him, tracing the lines on his chiseled chest muscles through his thin shirt. The fabric there did very little to hide what was underneath..

You both laid unwilling to move, until your phone started to ring.

"Shit that's y/f/n. She must have woken up." You say, rolling away from him as best as he’d let you, grabbing your phone.

"Where the hell are you?" She asked as soon as you said hello.

"I was just wandering around so that you could sleep." You lied, hoping she believed you. "I'll grab some fresh coffee and head back to the room." Untangled his limbs from yours and sat up on the side of the bed staring at you with an unreadable expression on his perfectly sculpted face...

"Okay fine." She said, sounding relieved. "Don't take too long. Coffee sounds good."

With that she hung up the phone, and you let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. You take one more look at Jensen who is still looking at you with the same expression.

"I need to get going." You tell him standing up, he never said a word. Coldness returning to his expression.

Just as you got to the door he finally spoke.

"Why did you lie?" He asked, sounding a little hurt, and it stopped you in your tracks with your hand on the door knob.

"What?"

You turned around to look at him. He was standing in the middle of the room, staring at you. His expression is hard and almost unreadable..

"Why did you lie to her? Why did you tell her that you were just 'walking around, letting her sleep in?'

Your heart was hammering so hard in your chest that you thought it might stop beating.. You didn’t know that would affect him the way it obviously was.. You took a cautious step forward, and he took one backwards away from you....

Crap...

You messed up....

He's all fraggle right now, and you just smacked his the fuck out of his ego without even recognizing you did so.

"Jensen, I thought you wouldn't want many one to know I stayed here with you last night. I thought you wouldn't want people spreading rumors." You say softly, trying not to upset him anymore than you already had, because God knows you didn't want to upset him. You hated to see that hurt look on his face.

"We didn't do anything wrong." He said flatly. "Are you ashamed that you stayed here with me?" He asks, still keeping his distance, and for a split second the question confused you… Then it hit you… There was more to issues in that relationship than just cheating… Fuck...

"No, I'm not. I just didn't want to give Danneel another reason to post anything to social media that will cause you anymore trouble." You tell him, and he takes a step closer to you, biting his bottom lip hard.

"I'm sorry." He said, looking at the ground now. "I don't know where that came from. I guess I'm still a little touchy."

He looked pathetic and you hated it. You were used to the strong willed, slightly arrogant, cocky actor that he was at cons and on stage, this new, almost vulnerable Jensen threw you, and you didn’t know how to handle it really. It was like walking around a bomb.

You walked up to him slowly reaching up, and putting your arms around his neck. He pulled you closer to him without hesitation, locking his arms around your waist as if he let go of you even a little you’d disappear from him..

“If you want me to tell her where I was I will. I'm not ashamed to be around you. I just don't want people to have anymore material to give you crap about it at this convention, or on social media. You’ve gone through enough shit, and I don’t want to be the reason people cause more drama for you." You tell him, reaching running a hand through his tousled hair. He leans into your touch just like he had last night in the hallway, closing his eyes and hanging his head a little lower.

"I'm so tired of being alone. Even though I was with Danneel. We weren't really together. I was never there. She was always in Austin, using the kids as an excuse not to come anywhere with me. We'd go months without seeing each other. Last night was the first night in a long time I didn't have to be by myself. I'm not ready to let that go."

Slowly he puts his hand on the back of your neck and brings his lips so close to yours they were almost touching.

“I really want to kiss you right now.”

The husky, deep, growl in his voice sends a shiver or anticipation down your spine. You wanted someone so bad as you wanted him right now.

Every nerve in you seemed to be vibrating. You wanted more than anything to kiss him.

Make him forget about her...

Make him see what it was like to be with someone who really did appreciate him...

Reaching down he gently brushed his lips over yours, sending electricity through your body like a jolt of lightning, before fully taking your lips in his. The kiss was a little rougher than you expected, still his kiss was soft and sweet, taking his time, gently moving his hand tighter around your waist. Then just as suddenly as he started he pulled away. Leaving you just as breathless.

"Move into my hotel room tonight so we can spend some time together, get to know each other a little better. I'll order some takeout, and we can get to know each other a little better."

Leaning down he pressed his forehead against yours, his arms still locked around your waist, holding you to his body..

"Jensen, you just left your wife YESTERDAY. Do you think this is such a good idea? I really, really care about you; I don't want to be some weekend rebound." You blurt out, before you could stop yourself, but before you could kick yourself too hard he puts his finger under your chin, making you look up at him.

"Just because I told her I wanted a divorce yesterday doesn't mean that our actual marriage ended yesterday. That ended before the twins were even born. She refused to come with me anywhere. Would make sure her, and the kids were gone before I would get home so that they didn't have to see me. She WANTED me to catch her, or I wouldn't have caught her. Our 'marriage' has literally been over for years. You're NOT some 'weekend rebound'.

One of his hands wandered up to the back of your neck, and he brushed his lips over yours again...

“I'm drawn to you, I want to get to know you, see where this goes. I feel something with you I haven't felt in years, and you do to or else you wouldn't have stayed with me last night." He says, running his thumb gently across your bottom lip.

"What do you say y/n?” He asked. "Wanna give me a shot?" He said, his voice deep and rough. Making your stomach quiver with things you haven't felt in years. Things you shouldn’t be feeling this early on, yeah he was famous, but you didn’t know this man, not really...

There wasn't a chance in hell you could walk away from him. It was too late. You feel hard and fast for this guy, and he knew he had a hold on you. It was over there was no point in fighting it, and even if you wanted to you couldn't. He had a hook in you deep.

"Okay, lets see where this goes." You manage to say before his lips capture yours again in a chaste kiss, and you melted into him.

The way he made you feel scared you, but hey what's life if you didn't take a chance.

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#jensen ackles #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfic #jensen ackles series #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen x reader #jensen x you #spn fanfiction #spn fanfi #dark fic #hurt!jensen #hurt!comfort fic #jawritter

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thecleverdame · 4 years

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The Oath - 15

Parings: Dark!Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader

Story Master List

Summary: After an unsuccessful escape attempt, the reader finds herself taken as a spoil of war. She ends up in the bed of a ruthless Alpha, the son of John Winchester, leader of the kingdom of Gilead. She struggles to conceal her true identity and navigate a society where being an Omega means nothing more than serving at the pleasure of powerful men.

Warnings: non-con, sexual assault, rape, attempted suicide, sexual slavery, branding, torture, ownership, voyeurism, anal play, smut, violence, and murder.

Sam is dark in this story. If any of the warnings are triggers for you, I would suggest skipping this one. Please read and heed all the warnings.

Beta: ilikaicalie

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No matter how long you stare at the bite on your neck, it’s still hard to believe it’s real.

Sam claimed you.

Sam Winchester claimed you.

Adding to your humiliation is the fact that you asked for this. Begged him to bite you, begged him to do a lot of other unspeakable things that make you blush in the light of day. That’s not remotely fair. To be an Omega in the bed of an Alpha, your Alpha, during his rut...you would have asked for anything in that state.

Your body is a map of his rut. Even two days afterward you’re covered in bite marks and bruises. Handprints on your arms and around your wrists where he held you down as you pleaded for it harder.

God help you. You’re all in now. Any thought of ever going back to your own family has been eradicated. The last vestiges of hope have drained away. Even if by some miracle you were able to escape, or your father won the war, you could never stay away from him. You’re bound for the rest of your life and you’ll die without him.

You are his and you’ve decided for your own sanity that you’ll play the part until you truly forget who you were. It’s time to give in. Clinging to false hope can only serve to bring devastation when the fairy tale ending never comes. There’s no way out. So you have to be all in.

John is in the camp. His men have joined up with Sam and Deans to form a massive army. You can hear the commotion from outside the tent, feeling sick at the thought of having to meet him.

You’ve heard the tales of John Winchester for years. It’s easy to think that men with his reputation are often blown out of proportion, but you fear all those stories were accurate. The tales of cruelty were indeed rooted in truth.

That evening several women come to assist you in getting ready. One braids small strips of your hair, pinning it atop your head while the other laces up an intricate dress the likes of which you haven’t seen since you were a proper princess. Sam watches stoically from the corner as they flit around, nervous and desperate to have you up to his standards.

“Make sure to leave some of her hair down. Cover the bite,” he instructs. The young woman combing your hair jumps out of her skin when he speaks.

“Of course, my lord.” She smooths the hair into waves around your shoulders, arranging it just so. You won’t be able to move without fear of undoing her handiwork.

He hasn’t said much in the last few days, more quiet than usual. Studying you with unnerving intensity. It’s like he’s waiting for changes. As if he thinks his bite will trigger some dramatic physical metamorphosis that will happen right before his eyes.

With a final cinch, your dress is fitted and the woman at your back takes a step away, bowing her head.

“Would you like to inspect her up close before we take our leave?”

“Yes.” Sam stands up, both women scurrying backwards to put as much room between them and him as possible. He makes a circle around you, nodding slowly. “You’ve done well. You may both go.”

They’re out of the tent in a dash, allowing you more freedom to speak to him. He doesn’t mind your familiarity, but you’re sure to question when no one else is around.

“Why am I wearing this dress?” you ask. You’ve got a good idea but you want to hear him say it.

“We’re having dinner with my family. You need to look your best.” He places a hand on your shoulder, guiding you back to the same mirror you stare into every morning. This mirror has seen more tears and whispered prayer than any other in existence. “You’re beautiful, but I needed you to look polished tonight. Representative of the prize that you are.”

He stands behind you as you both stare at your reflection as he places a hand on top of each shoulder. This is a woman you never thought you’d see again. Not only clean but composed. Your hair is wonderfully intricate, the top half of your hair braided and looped around the crown of your head. The dress is immaculate and your cheeks a rosy pink.

Perhaps his instincts are correct. Over the months since your capture, you’ve looked thinner and paler as time dragged on. But in the two days since his claim you’ve flourished. Brought back to life the Omega inside that’s nourished in a way you’ve never been before. Despite the circumstances, belonging to an Alpha is what you’ve been craving for years, there’s no denying it.

“I’m scared,” you whisper, watching his reflection. He meets your eyes, unwavering as his fingers curl into the meat of your shoulders.

“Don’t be scared, little bird. My father is intimidating to most people. But do you know the one thing John Winchester is scared of?”

You don’t have to ponder the question long before the answer becomes clear.

“You?”

“Me.” He breaks into a joyless smile. One hand drops down to your waist, pulling you flush against him. “And he should be.”

Sam escorts you across the camp with a half dozen men trailing behind him. He doesn’t normally have a small army of personal bodyguards. It’s unclear if this is because of you or to protect him. But it is clear that the amassing of army’s has changed things. There’s an intensity in the camp that you can feel, it’s hanging heavy in the air as you pass through.

The sight of an Omega draws attention. And Sam Winchester’s makes for a full out spectacle. You can feel the shame and fear make your face red as you scamper beside him. Even though it’s unlikely, there’s always the possibility that someone could recognize you. The wrong person could point and shout out your true identity.

There’s a huge tent at the center of the camp at least twice the size of Sam’s. It appears to have been set up specially for dinner. There’s not much inside save for a long dining table lined with chairs.

You take a seat across from Greta as Sam and Dean launch into their own conversation. She’s not as perky as the last time you saw her. There’s a limpness, a dullness in her eyes that tells you the fight is almost gone.

“Hello.” You offer a hesitant smile.

“Hello.” She stares blankly at you.

“Greta,” you whisper, reaching across the table to take her hand. “Are you alright?”

“I am alive,” she answers, tears pooling in her eyes.

The two Alphas move away from the table for a stronger drink from the sideboard. You take the opportunity to pour Greta a glass of wine, then yourself. She takes it from you with a weak thank you.

“Has something happened?” you whisper, checking to make sure that the men are otherwise occupied. “Something more than…”

Imprisonment and assault.

“No,” she takes a sip from her glass. “It’s been a lot of the same. I’ve realized that you were right from the beginning. Being so obstinate has only made the situation worse.”

You want to ask exactly what she means by “worse” but you’re not sure you can handle the answer. She’s no longer shackled. It appears she finally stopped running away or maybe it’s just for show. Turning up to dinner with John Winchester with a chain around her ankle would make Dean appear weak.

“Maybe we’ll have a chance to talk later.” Trying to remain upbeat, you pat the top of her hand. “Drink some more, it will help.”

Without any sort of introduction, John enters the tent with a woman on his arm. A few men walk in behind him, fanning out to stand guard by the doorway.

You stand up without even thinking about it. Greta jumps to her feet as well. Looking to Sam you try to deduce if you should go to him or stay put where you are. After all, in Gilead, you’re a strange combination of high social status and half a person.

You’re relieved when Sam gestures for you to come to him. He and Dean both greet their father while you and Greta watch from a step behind. John looks tired, almost unassuming, but there’s a flicker in his eyes that gives away his lethality.

He and Dean embrace with a hug that looks genuine. And then Dean turns to the blonde woman beside John for a kiss and you understand, this is their mother. Sam has mentioned her offhandedly but you assumed she was dead. She’s standing just behind John with an unnerving smile.

When it’s Sam’s turn he and John share a more uncomfortable version of Dean’s greeting. Neither of them wants to touch the other. When it’s his mother’s turn he embraces her with the same vigor as his brother. While Sam is devoid of telltale warmth that a mother and son share, he still attempts to show her some affection.

“You both look well.” John looks from Dean to Sam, seemingly pleased with what he sees. “Very good.”

John looks from Greta to you as if just noticing you for the first time, appraising you from head to toe before chuckling with a nod to both his sons.

“You both have one. That’s good. Having an Omega waiting keeps you clear-headed on the battlefield.”

“Yes it does,” Dean agrees with a genuine grin. In stark contrast to Sam’s disdain, Dean seems to bask in their father’s approval.

“Please, let’s eat. I know we’re all hungry and we’ve got plenty of time to catch up.”

Everyone takes their place. You’re nervous you might say or do the wrong thing, so you fold your hands into your lap and try to draw as little attention as possible. The soldiers stationed along the wall stare dead ahead as if transfixed, never looking at anyone or anything. Ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice.

Sam refills your wine glass without so much as a look and settles it for the evening.

Everyone eats and drinks as the evening wears on. You know it’s coming but you’re taken off guard when John hones in on you.

“Why don’t you tell us where you found your Omega, Sam? She’s a rare find.”

“She’s very beautiful.” Mary stares at you blankly, devoid of any real emotion.

“Yes, she is.” Sam turns to you, reaching to brush the hair away from your neck, exposing his bite. You stare at him in horror while the table goes silent. It takes a moment for everyone to understand what they’re seeing. All conversations stop, even the sounds of plates and cutlery are silenced at this revelation.

John Winchester clears his throat and your eyes flutter shut, scarcely able to handle what unknown comes next.

“She’s claimed?”

“She is.”

“By you?”

“Yes.”

John takes a breath, both fists resting on the table curl tight until his knuckles go white.

“What the hell is wrong with you, boy? Do you know what this means? What I have to do?” His face is red, and you wonder if he’ll order you both dead here and now.

“Tell me, what do you have to do?” Sam’s antagonizing him, a grin pulling at his mouth.

“Sam,” his mother breathes, looking in horror from her husband to her son. “What have you done?”

“Were you looking for a fight? Is that what you want, for me to take her from you?”

“You’re not taking her,” Sam spits back.

“Yes, I am.”John points at you and it’s all you can do not to burst into tears. “I can’t let you keep her. What example would that set? The laws are centuries old. This is what we’re fighting to uphold.”

“Consider this an exception.” Sam shrugs, picking up his wine glass.

“There are no exceptions.”

“Then why don’t you come over here and try to take her then?” Sam offers, eyes narrowing with the challenge. “Drag me off to the chopping block while you’re at it.”

“Why do you always have to undermine me!” John yells, standing up.

“She’s my mate.” Sam stands too, slow and deliberate. “If you try to take her, I’ll kill you. If you send men to take her, I’ll kill them and then I’ll come for you.”

“Sam,” John pauses pounding the table with a single fist. “How am I expected to enforce the laws if my own son doesn’t follow them?”

“You’ll think of something.”

“You are to be an example to the men!”

“I am no man. You said that yourself. Don’t think for a moment that I need your permission for anything. I do all that you ask of me. I was loyal until the day I died and in return, I take what I want. When and how I want it.”

They stare at each other, each waiting for the other to back down.

“You let him do this?” John turns to Dean who holds both hands up.

“I know it’s been a while since we’ve all been together, but I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that no one lets Sam do anything. This isn’t on me.”

“No, it’s not. It was my decision.” Sam adds. “She’s been with me since Eden and now she’ll stay with me.”

Sam relaxes, his display of dominance is over because he was the winner before this even started.

“Soul or not, you’ve always been hard-headed.” John sinks back into his seat, letting out a sigh. “Tell me Omega, what’s your name.”

You sit up in horror, looking from John to Sam.

“I, um-”. You clasp your shaking hands together in your lap. “Sparrow.”

“What an unusual name,” Mary chimes in.

“Yes,” you agree looking down at your lap.

“Tell us Sparrow,” John continues. “How many Alpha were you with before my son?”

“None sir,” you answer immediately, wishing you could crawl under the table.

“That’s something I suppose.” John composes himself sitting back and patting his wife’s hand. “If there was ever a reason for a break in tradition, Sam is it. But I don’t want anyone else thinking they can get away with-”

“I don’t think that’s a problem,” Dean interjects. “If you like we’ll make sure to make an example of the next man who abuses his privileges with an Omega.”

John seems to accept this and it’s as if the confrontation never happened. Suddenly they’re talking about heading south and the warmer weather.

That’s it. It was that simple. Sam was right, John is afraid of him.

The night drags on. Dean and John tell stories of their time apart. While Sam doesn’t engage, he seems amused with a few of Dean’s embellished tales. It’s just as dinner is coming to an end that you sense the mood shifting.

John is now focused on Greta, watching her while he listens to his son ramble on about sword makers and strategies. When Dean finishes his story John tips back the last of his wine.

“I think it’s time to take care of our most important business, don’t you?”

Both Sam and Dean agree, making it clear they all know what’s coming next. John raises a hand and there’s a commotion outside the tent. Two soldiers bring a man inside, he’s bloodied and beaten, limp, feet dragging in the dirt.

You look to Sam and then back to the man, sure that you don’t want to witness whatever is about to happen.

“Oh my God,” Greta starts to stand and Dean grabs her arm to keep her in her seat. “Father!”

Your heart drops into your stomach. Her father, the renowned General Kaiser. He’s one of your father’s most trusted confidants. You feel terror for her as she begins to cry, looking wildly around the table.

“Please,” she begs, grabbing at Dean’s sleeve. “Don’t hurt him please, I’ll do anything.”

“Be quiet,” he says with a gentleness that you’ve never seen before. “Stay in your seat.”

This man knows you, in fact, he’s known you since you were a little girl. Kaiser lifts his head, smiling when he sees his daughter.

“It’s going to be alright Greta. Do what you’re told.”

Kaiser then looks from John to Dean to Sam and then his gaze falls on you. It’s a split second before recognition sets in. His eyes dart from Sam to the exposed claiming bite on your neck. He understands almost immediately and forces himself to look away.

“We need information.” John begins, getting to his feet. “This man has the power to secure the war. Everything we need, the general knows. Regrettably, our honored guest has been less than forthcoming. So tonight we’re going to try a new tactic. Sam, take care of Greta for us, will you?”

“No,” you whisper under your breath as Sam makes his way around the table.

Sam takes her by the arm, pulling her out of her seat. Dean simply watches, concealing any and all reactions.

“Take your hands off her!” Kaiser shouts. It breaks your heart, he’s been beaten within an inch of his life. There’s no way out for him and yet he tries to protect his daughter.

“He will take his hands off her when you give us something we can work with. Where are Benedict's men being moved to? Tell us the rally point. If you don’t, my son will slit your daughter’s throat.”

“I don’t know,” Kaiser answers, a tear sliding down her cheek as he stares at Greta.

“How about the location of his advisors? I was told they were being kept together for protection. Or his children? Anything we can use.”

You stop breathing, chest tightening, heart thumping hard and fast. This is it. The end. All he has to do to save Greta is point a finger at you. Sam tenses as if he can feel your panic and gives you a questioning glance. Kaiser looks at you for a fleeting second, then looks up as if sending up a final prayer.

“I am loyal to my king until I die.” Kaiser holds his bloodied head high, the muscles of his neck shaking.

“You are an idiot.” John shakes his head. Instead of looking to Sam, John turns to Dean. “Do you want to keep her longer?”

Yes, please yes. Please.

“Sure,” Dean shrugs.

“Very well.” John moves with a speed you wouldn’t have thought him capable of. In one move he unsheaths his sword and drives it deep into Kaiser's gut. Twisting as he presses forward.

Greta screams, reaching out for her father. Sam lets her go and she crumples to the floor watching in agony as her father dies a slow, violent death right before her eyes.

You’re out of the chair without a second thought, scurrying around the table and dropping to your knees to hold Greta in your arms. She howls as you rock her back and forth, listening to the last sounds of her father gasping for breath.

And when it’s over you sit there, clinging to her and squeezing your own eyes shut.

“It needed to be done,” John’s voice explains. “The longer we let him live, the weaker we looked. People need to know we don’t hold prisoners. They’re of use or they’re dead.”

“Understood,” Dean agrees.

It seems like a lifetime before Sam pries you away from Greta. You’re in a stupor as he lifts you up and carries you away from the gruesome scene.

Later That Evening

“May I ask you a question?” you ask.

Neither of you has said much since you returned from dinner. You’ve been stuck in your own head replaying the events over and over. He looks up from his book. Much to your surprise, he gets up from his chair and walks over to the end of the bed.

“What is it?”

“Your mother...I didn’t know she was alive. Why haven’t you or Dean mentioned her?”

“That’s a question with a long answer.” He holds your gaze. “She was gone for a long time. My father will tell you he thought she was possessed. But the truth is that she was disloyal, undermining his orders. One morning she disappeared and we didn’t see her for a year. When she did come back she wasn’t our mother anymore. He did something to her, broke her. And since then she’s just a stranger with our mother’s face.”

“That's awful.”

“It is what it is.” Sam shrugs, shaking away the idea of his mother.

You watch him thoughtfully, this man who’s now your Alpha.

“You told your father you would kill him if he came for me. Did you mean that?”

“Yes.”

“And if your father had told you to, would you have killed Greta?”

“Yes.”

If you could just tell him the truth, what a burden would be lifted. You long to whisper your fears to someone. That you’re terrified that one day you’ll watch as your own father is slaughtered in front of you. That Sam will discover your true identity and turn on you himself. The very notion of your own Alpha turning his back on you makes you want to crawl under the covers and cower in fear.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs, looking down at your trembling hands.

“This existence, my life...your life, it’s brutal. I don’t know how to come to terms with what happened. A man was killed in front of me. I can’t reconcile that...I don’t want it to be real.”

“I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do about that. Before this war is over there is no end to the violent things you’ll see.”

Normally he would dismiss you as weak or overly concerned for the welfare of others. Perhaps for the first time he seems to care that you’re upset.

Tonight has proven one thing above all others. He takes his claim seriously, having you and keeping you for himself. He wants to be your Alpha, gets satisfaction from it. That’s easier to play into while lulling yourself into a false sense of security.

“Will you keep me safe?”

“Yes,” he replies.

His hand cups the cut of your jaw, a thumb slowly stroking across your cheek. He’s looking at you but lost somewhere in thought. His touch has never been soft, nothing close to tenderness. But as he cradles your face you see a glimpse of the man left inside him.

You wrap your hand around his wrist, allowing yourself to sink into the moment. To let go of your old identity and forge a new one.

His concentration snaps as his free hand moves to your knee and then up a thigh. He doesn’t stop until his fingers push into your folds to find slick at your core.

Giving a little moan, you spread yourself open for him as he withdraws his hand.

“Are you always wet?”

Biting your lip you glance away sheepishly.

“It’s your scent. When you’re near me I...I can’t help it.”

“I wouldn’t want you to.” He tugs at your slip. “Take this off.”

You yank it over your head, lay back as he crawls over you, shedding his shirt, then his trousers.

He buries his head between your thighs, shoving his tongue into your cunt as you writhe up against his chin. Both hands press down on your hips to hold you in place as his tongue drags upward from your wet hole to the swollen bud of your clit. Without warning he sucks at the most sensitive part of you.

Two hands curl into his hair, yanking at his scalp but at the same time pushing his face into your pussy. It's a cacophony of sensations, a pleasure bordering on too much. He grunts and groans, giving you a brief reprieve, delving back down to shove inside you before returning to send you star-bound with the caress of his mouth.

In moments such as this you forget where you are. What you just witnessed or the trials to come. Here in this bed, in this moment all is forgotten except Sam.

Heavy and pitching, you’re at the edge of the abyss, ready to plunge headfirst over the edge.

“Sam,” you gulp.

You’ve never dared call him by his name before but it falls from your lips without a second thought.

He moves fast, mouth leaving your cunt as he lunges upward to take your mouth. The spiced taste of yourself on his tongue is proof of his efforts as you kiss him back. Hands curl into the flesh of his back leaving tiny crescent moons across the skin.

A hand wedges between your bellies, grabbing his cock to line himself up. The first thrust is intense. You easily take him in to the root, wet and needy, opening up as you have a hundred times before. The moment he finds his depth, you cum with a yelp.

For a moment there’s nothing, then a burst of white before your eyes and the feeling of pulsing around him.

He fucks you through it, slow and steady until you’re nothing but a twitching body underneath him. It’s a dizzy gratification and you swim in it until you feel his knot swell. He ruts deep and then fills you with seed. You lie under him for as long as it takes his knot to recede, listening to the sound of his breath, feeling the thump of his heart against your chest.

It must be the universe’s cruel joke that you’re so well matched. This sort of pleasure is meant for good people, people who fall in love and have a sweeping romance.

And yet you find yourself bathing in the scent and heat of him, despite the man you know him to be. He may be dark and cruel and heartless, but he is yours. You know that now more than ever.

#soulless!sam x reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester smut #sam winchester au

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