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wonderfulworldofmichaelford · 3 years

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Psycho Analysis: Spider-Man Movie Villains

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS!)

Spider-Man, Spider-Man, he does whatever a spider can. And what do spiders seem really good at? Amassing huge quantities of hatred and animosity! True to the wily arachnids that inspired him, Spider-Man has quite the impressive gallery of foes, one that I might say rivals Batman as the greatest in comic book history with how colorful, crazy, and creative they are. Even villains derivative of one another, like Hobgoblin and Green Goblin or Carnage and Venom, manage to carve out unique niches that help make them fun and memorable.

And thankfully, these qualities usually translated pretty well to film! I’ve talked about how good Mysterio, Vulture, Kingpin, and Prowler are before, so now it’s time to cover the others all in one fell swoop! From the Raimi trilogy, we have Green Goblin, Doctor Octopus, Harry Osborn, Sandman, and Eddie Brock/Venom; from the Andrew Garfield duology, we have Lizard, Electro, Rhino, and Harry Osborn again; and leftover from Into the Spider-Verse we have Olivia Octavius, Tombstone, Scorpion, and that film’s brief take on Green Goblin! Oh, and why not throw in Riot from Venom while we’re at it, because he sucks way too much to get his own Psycho Analysis.

Motivation/Goals: A lot of villains are motivated by the classic motivation: revenge. All of the Green Goblins manage to have this as a main part of their actions, making them remarkably consistent and very easy to discuss. The Norman of the Raimi films wants to take out his anger at being frozen out of his own company, and his son wants revenge for his death, while the Harry of the Garfield films wants his vengeance because Spider-Man wouldn’t help cure him of his otherwise incurable disaease that would kill him (a fact made worse because Spider-Man is his actual best friend, Peter Parker, who is coldly condemning his pal to death). The only one who doesn’t really fit is the Spider-Verse take on Green Goblin, and that’s more because he has extremely limited screentime and spends all of it fighting Peter and being scary as hell.

Eddie Brock/Venom is a very interesting case as both halves of the character are motivated by different reasons. The symbiote half is, of course, motivated by the fact that Peter has tried to rid himself of it via using a church bell to kill it. Eddie, on the other hand, has the most absolutely hilarious motivation ever: He wants Peter Parker to die because Peter exposed him for submitting fraudulent pictures to J. Jonah Jameson. Eddie literally breached journalistic ethics but apparently Peter’s to blame for exposing his literal, actual crime! And he prays to God for Peter to die! This version of Eddie is cartoonishly hilarious.Finally, we have Max Dillon, AKA Electro, who is lashing out at a world that did nothing but belittle and demean him, giving him a far more sympathetic motive for revenge.

Kurt Connors is an interesting halfway point between the Doc Ocks and the villains above, because he is not really evil and his whole transformation came about for altruistic scientific reasons, as he tested his serum on himself because they were going to test it out on the public without consent. While the serum drives him mad, he initially only goes after those who were going to use his formula with people as guinea pigs.

Interestingly, the two Doc Ocks contrast each other. While both of them are doing evil deeds for scientific reasons, Otto Octavius is being forced by his tentacles and genuinely wishes to make the world a better place otherwise. Olivia, on the other hand, is a gleeful sadist who doesn’t care who she hurts as long as she can get some sort of scientific knowledge from it.

Sandman is interesting case because his motivations are entirely sympathetic and despite being the man who killed Uncle Ben, it was entirely accidental and he always regretted it. He only ever wanted to get money to save his daughter. It’s really hard not to sympathize with a guy who turned to desperate measures because the American health care system sucks even in a universe where a dude dressed in a bright red suit swings around New York.

Then there are all the rest. Aleksei Systevich, AKA Rhino, is just a criminal, and has barely any screentime to establish a motivation beyond that. This is especially hilarious because the ads really hyped this guy up, only for him to get maybe five minutes of screentime, with most of it at the very end of the movie before the credits (we don’t even get to see his final battle). Tombstone and Scorpion are basically just lackeys for Kingpin, with little established beyond that. Scorpion almost shows up entirely out of nowhere, just popping in for the fight at Aunt May’s house and then the final battle. And then there’s Riot, who just wants to start a symbiote apocalypse on Earth.

Performance: Willem Dafoe, Alfred Molina, and Thomas Haden Church as Green Goblin, Doctor Octopus, and Sandman in the Raimi trilogy are, in a word, iconic. Dafoe brings a gleeful, cackling hamminess to the Goblin that perfectly suits him and manages to steal every single with how delightfully, cartoonishly evil he is combined with some hilariously chummy moments with Spider-Man. Molina as Ock goes in the opposite direction of hamminess, where instead of making Octavius cartoonishly evil, he gives him this air of gravitas to the point where he somehow manages to make this villain with giant metal tentacles that are controlling his mind come off as sophisticated and serious as Hannibal Lecter. Church meanwhile just looks eerily perfect as Sandman, as if he were ripped straight from the comics and put onscreen, and then of course there’s how well he manages to sell the emotional moments of the character.

The Harrys are a rather mixed bag, sad to say. James Franco and Dennis DeHaan aren’t really bad actors, but they unfortunately have the problem of living in the shadow of the actor who played their dad (Franco) or being in a really awful movie with a terrible script (DeHaan). Franco at least makes up for this by being hilariously, cartoonishly evil to the extent of his dad in the third Raimi film, but DeHaan unfortunately falls rather flat. Topher Grace as Venom is a choice that seems baffling until you realize Raimi cast an actor like this on purpose because he hates Venom so much he didn’t want to give him any dignity.

Jamie Foxx as Electro seems odd at first, but I feel it’s actually a great casting choice, and despite how unbelievably stupid the script is, he’s actually able to do a fairly good job. If his character was in a better movie, he’d probably get a lot less flak (and he’ll be getting his chance soon enough, apparently). Overall, he’s the best part of the Garfield films. Rhys Ifans and Paul Giamatti as Lizard and Rhino are serviceable, but neither film they’re in really gives them much to work with. Giamatti at least gets to steal the show with his brief scenes by being an absolute ham, but Ifans is sadly a bit forgettable in his role (though not for lack of trying on his part).

Now onto the Spider-Verse ensemble! Considering how I gushed over her delightful performance as the Wicked Witch of Westview in WandaVision as well as the fact she is solely responsible for me resurrecting this series from its long hiatus, it should come as no shock at all that Kathryn Hahn as Olivia Octavius is just perfect. Controversial opinion, I know, might get some flak for this hot take. Jorma Taccone as Green Goblin, Joaquin Cosio as Scorpion, and Marvin Jones III as Tombstone all do well for what they’re given, but it’s clear most of the love among Kingpin’s henchmen was given to her (and Prowler, but he got his own review where I talked about how great he is).

Oh, right, Riot. I forgot about him. Riz Ahmed, who plays the human villain Carlton Drake I forgot to mention because he’s incredibly boring, is a really good (and sexy) actor. Unfortunately, he doesn’t get to be quite as good and sexy as an actor like him should be in his dual role. In an interesting subversion of how things usually go, he ends up being rather bland compared to the hammy, bonkers hero. This was Tom Hardy’s show, and no one was stealing it from him.

Final Fate: The Raimi films were all made during a time when, if your name wasn’t Magneto and you were a superhero movie villain, you were dying, a trend I’m certainly glad is finally starting to die off. Thankfully, Green Goblin manages to stick around and posthumously influence Harry, so in his case it’s not so bad. Harry and Doc Ock both manage to overcome the darkness in their hearts at the end and sacrifice their lives to help save the day, while Eddie dies after becoming such a simp for the symbiote he leaps into it while Peter is blowing it up. With Sandman, Peter actually has a touching reconciliation with Sandman at the end, forgiving him for the death of Uncle Ben before Sandman dissolves into dust and floats away on the breeze. And no, this is his power, not Thanos’ snap reaching across time, space, and dimensions; Sandman actually gets out of these films alive.

The other villains actually get off easier, as most of them go to jail. From the Amazing Spider-Man films, DeHaan’s Goblin and Rhys Ifan’s Lizard both end up in prison, and it’s safe to assume that the villains of Spider-Verse are going to jail alongside Kingpin. Octavius was hit by a bus, sure, but considering how popular she ended up being it would be really dumb to have that actually kill her. With Electro and Rhino though, it’s really ambiguous, the former because he’s made of electricity and the way he was defeated means it is possible he survived, and the latter because we never actually see the outcome of his battle with Spider-Man. If the film they were in was actually good and warranted sequels, we may have found out what their true fates were, but at the very least Electro is moving over to the MCU alongside Molina’s Doc Ock.

Oh, right, forgot Riot again. He dies.

Best Scene/Best Quote: I’m combining these this time just to make it easier on me, because in at least in a couple cases the two are the same.

Green Goblin has a lot to choose from, to the point where it’s easy to cop out and just say every scene he’s in is amazing. I’ve always been fond of his chummy chat with Spider-Man on the rooftop, or the scene where he terrifies Aunt May, or the scene where he attacks the parade and vaporizes the board of directors with pumpkin bombs.

Dock Ock is easy: the train battle. This might be one of the best action scenes in any superhero movie ever, and since he’s the villain in it, it almost goes without saying..There’s a reason this scene is singled out so often.

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Eddie Brock and DeHaan Goblin actually have their best scenes also be their best lines. Eddie praying for God to kill Peter Parker and DeHaan!Harry screaming “YOU’RE A FRAUD, SPIDER-MAN!” after Spidey refuses to give him a life-saving blood transfusion are just so absolutely hilarious and memorable that you can’t hate them.

Aside from the powerful forgiveness moment at the film’s end, I think it’s really indisputable that the best scene from Sandman, and perhaps the Raimi trilogy as a whole, is the scene of Sandman’s creation. Words really can’t do it justice, so just watch:

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Electro’s best moment isn’t even actually part of the movie, unless you want to count his rendition of “The Itsy-Bitsy Spider.” No, his is from a Tumblr post, proving definitively that Electro’s power can not be contained.

For Olivia, I’d say either of the reveals for her are great. You can go with the twist that she’s the Doc Ock of Miles’ universe, or the twist that she might have fucked Aunt May. Either way, you can’t really go wrong.

The rest of the villains… yeah, I’ve got nothing. At least with Rhino you can say his entire time on screen was fun, but the rest? Nope. They’re kind of just there.

Final Thoughts & Score:

Green Goblin

Where to begin with this guy? He is everything I look for in a great villain: he’s hammy and cartoonish, he can be terrifying and threatening when he wants to be, he has a ridiculous yet memorable costume, every word out of his mouth is hilarious and memorable, and he’s played by an amazing actor. It’s hard to dispute that Doc Ock is the best villain in Raimi’s trilogy, but Goblin is definitely the most fun. If you thought he’d get less than a 10/10, you thought wrong.

Doctor Octopus

Aside from Green Goblin, Doc Ock is Spidey’s most iconic and memorable foe, nd this adaptation of him does not disappoint. By making him a more tragic and somewhat anti-villainous figure and putting him in the hands of someone as awesome and talented as Alfred Molina, they managed to make such a cartoonish villain retain that comic book silliness while still being a legitimately imposing antagonist. I suppose it helps that a director who knows how to balance silly and serous like Raimi helps. It’s absolutely not a shock that the MCU wants to bring Molina back, because really, I can’t see anyone making the dubious doctor nearly as cool as the 10/10 performance Molina gave.

Harry Osborn

Franco’s Harry has an interesting arc, but one that doesn’t make a whole lot of sense under scrutiny. Frankly, his descent into villain is handled well but when he actually gets to be a villain in the third film, things fall apart.. But at any rate, he gets to be cartoonishly hilarious while he pettily ruins Peter’s life, so I think a 3/10 is warranted just for how goofy he is.

Eddie Brock/Venom

For the longest time, I hated Eddie Brock, but loved the Venom symbiote for its fantastic design… A design hampered by the fact Topher Grace keeps sticking his face through the symbiote and talking in his normal voice. But then one day I remembered Eddie literally prays to God for Peter Parker to die, and I realize that as crappy as this version of Venom is, he’s undoubtedly hilarious. A 3/10 mainly because of how hilariously bad he is, though the design of the symbiote is unironically great. Shame Grace kept sticking his face through and that Raimi hates the character.

Sandman

Sandman is a villain who deserved a better movie. Sure, Spider-Man 3 is fun and funny, but a character with this much depth and emotional weight deserved a film of the caliber of Spider-Man 2. At any rate, he adds a bit of class and dignity to the proceedings, and Thomas Haden Church really nails it. He’s a 9/10 for sure.

Lizard

Lizard is just a very boring villain, which is a shame because Lizard is not a boring villain in the comics and other media like the cartoons. I don’t really know if he was the best choice for Spider-Man’s first outing; I’ll at least give him that he’s a more inspired choice than doing the Green Goblin again, but that doesn’t score him higher than a 4/10. As boring as he ends up being, that library fight was pretty cool and had a great Stan Lee cameo, so I can’t say he’s the bottom of the barrel.

Electro

Electro is a villain who desperately deserved a better movie. While his backstory as a nerdy fanboy who got kicked around by the world is nothing new, or fresh, or original, Jamie Foxx manages to make the character work fairly well even though almost everything around him is unbelievably stupid. The fact he managed to make “Don’t you know? I’m Electro” sound cool and badass is a testament to his skill, and thankfully he’s coming back in the MCU in some way, so I guess Electro’s power can not be contained to a single movie. Still, this iteration only manages to get to a 6/10, because while all the elements of greatness are there, he’s hampered by the abysmal writing.

Rhino

Paul Giamatti certainly looks like he’s having a blast here. His attitude is almost infectious, but alas, his time is too brief to bring any great joy, and his jarring appearance out of nowhere at the end of the film certainly do him no favors. Still, Giamatti keeps Rhino from sinking any lower than a 5/10.

Harry Osborn

This Harry is just a joke. His arc makes no sense, his actions are unbelievable, and he ends up looking like a really poor Warwick Davis Leprechaun cosplayer. The only thing of note about him is that he’s a Harry who becomes the Green Goblin before his father, something that doesn’t happen very often, and that’s not enough to score this loser higher than a 2/10. Not even killing Gwen Stacy makes him any more impressive, and that’s a real shame.

Olivia Octavius

Olivia Octavius is widely beloved by just about everyone who sees the film.. myself included. This is just a really fun, clever twist on Doctor Octopus, and it’s the sort of character you really hope gets a Harley Quinn-level break into becoming an iconic character across multiple forms of media. Kathryn Hahn’s fun performance and the wonderful design and fight sequences really make Olivia a 9/10.

Tombstone

Tombstone is a villain you might actually forget is in the movie, which is a damn shame. He’s an albino black man, a badass bodyguard, and has a striking design, but he gets a single line of dialogue and is tasked with bodyguarding a man who not only has cyborgs under his employ, but who murdered Spider-Man with his bare hands. Tombstone ultimately feels really superfluous, which is a shame because around the same time Into the Spider-Verse came out he had a very memorable and well-liked appearance in the Spider-Man video game. It’s a real shame but I gotta give this version of Tombstone a 2/10.

Scorpion

Scorpion has a lot of problems of Tombstone above, but he makes up for a lot of his flaws by having a really cool and striking design. Does it really make him a great villain? No. He’s not particularly well-characterized and he’s really just there to look cool and give Olivia backup. He’s a 4/10 at best, saved from being lower only by his awesome look. Looking cool really can get you far in some cases.

Green Goblin

Out of all the really minor villains in Spider-Verse, this version of Norman might be the best. His role is tiny, only appearing during the scene where the Peter Parker of Miles’ universe gets killed, but his battle with Spider-Man is what sets the entire plot in motion. His cool and terrifying design definitely help make him stand out enough to earn at least a 6/10.

Riot & Carlton Drake

Look, there’s a reason I kept forgetting these guys. They’re not memorable in the slightest. Venom may be a fantastic work of art, but that’s because Tom Hardy kills it in his dual role as Eddie Brock and the Venom symbiote. Drake is just a boring corporate villain, the kind I hate talking about and the kind I’d only ever even bother mentioning in a review like this. And Riot is just a generic Big Gray CGI Monster for the hero to have a final battle with. Neither of these two are particularly interesting, and neither deserves more than a 2/10.

That’s it, right? There can’t be any more villains, I must have covered them all. Well, not quite. There’s one more character who is most certainly an antagonist and who I really, really want to talk about. And you’re absolutely not going to believe who it is.

You ready?

Psycho Analysis: Emo Peter

“Now wait,” you may be asking, “Emo Peter? Really? How does he count as a villain?” Well, as Schafrillas pointed out in his video on Spider-Man 3, Emo Peter is actually the antagonist for much of the second act. Peter, influenced by the symbiote, becomes a raging jackass and hurts and alienates everyone around him by being a colossal douchebag, not to mention how violent he gets as Spider-Man. This is very much an extreme case of the hero’s greatest enemy being themselves, because literally, Peter’s enemy in the chunk of the movie with Emo Peter is his own overinflated ego

Motivation/Goals: I mean, at the end of the day, it’s still Peter. He still wants to do the typical Peter Parker stuff, he’s just a jackass while he does it.

Performance: It’s Tobey Maguire busting loose and getting to act like an absolute doofus. There is literally nothing about this that isn’t amazing and I’m sorry if you can’t see it.

Final Fate: Peter eventually comes to realize that maybe the symbiote making him act like an egomaniacal tool is not a good thing, and so rebels against it, ultimately leading him to the roof of a church where Eddie Brock is praying for him to die and, well, the rest is history.

Best Scene:

Best Dance Move:

Final Thoughts & Score: Emo Peter has gotten a bad reputation over the years, but Schafrillas’ video really made me rethink why. As he puts it, Emo Peter comes off not as someone cool, but as what a loser thinks a cool person would be (which makes him still a loser). It seems fairly likely that the audience isn’t supposed to be rooting for Emo Peter or finding him cool, but instead finding him insufferable, ridiculous, and funny. We’re supposed to be laughing at Peter’s egomania, at his absurd and hammy showboating, not cheering him on and desiring to emulate him.

And that ultimately makes it more satisfying when Peter overcomes his ego and decides to rid himself of the symbiote. It might seem like I’m giving Spider-Man 3 a lot of credit here, but even Sam Raimi half-assing a movie wouldn’t leave things completely devoid of underlying brilliance. Emo Peter isn’t a villain in the sense that he’s some superpowered antagonist, he’s a physical representation of the negative impacts of fame and ego on Peter. This is Peter letting go of what makes him a hero and just reveling in being an absolute jerkwad to everyone around him.

I love the memes as much as everyone else of course, but Emo Peter is also a pretty clever symbolic foe. But even though I’m giving him an 8/10, we all know the real reason why he’s scoring so high:

Ok, but that’s it now, right? No more Spider-Man villains? Well, maybe for now. But don’t forget:

There’s gonna be Carnage.

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arinaco · 4 years

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Role of the Dark Entity in the VLD series

Translated and edited by @ Nadezhda932

This short meta focuses on a very important element of the VLD series, completely overlooked as a result of the changes in S8. It never received any explanation, although it appeared in S3 for the first time. Namely - the Dark Entity (hereinafter - DE). I thought about its importance when I analyzed the scenes with Allura in Clear Day episode (S8Ep8) and came to interesting conclusions. But ... let's start in order. The first time DE appears in flashbacks, in the story of Coran (S3Ep7). When Alfor comes to visit his friend Honerva, she tells him that only one creature has responded to the signal she sent to the Rift. The creature was a small floating ball that Honerva placed in a flask. Alfor already then felt that it wouldn't end well, but the cycle of events, alas, was launched, and the alchemist king turned into a passive observer of the impending tragedy. At that time, we learned only one thing: that in the Rift between realities, where there's an endless stream of the purest quintessence, such dark creatures live. That is, for them the quintessence is a natural habitat and a natural source of nutrition, since there's simply nothing else there. And this is very (!) Important. Because you need to remember that in the ordinary world, the quintessence is only inside living beings: planets, flora and fauna. Moreover, the concentration of the quintessence inside living bodies is several times less than in the Rift. Just compare. We got to know what the raw quintessence looks like in the episode where paladins get to an imperial staging post (S1Ep12), and Keith tries to steal a vessel with a purple quintessence. The Red paladin is wounded in the arm and crashes into a flask of yellow - raw - quintessence. And having already escaped from the kind, sweet druid, he looks in amazement as, thanks to this yellow liquid, the wound on his hand heals right before his eyes (however, at that moment he was more alarmed by the purple tint of his own blood than by the very fact of healing).

The yellow flask is as tall as Keith, and the resulting violet one fits in the hand...

Quintessence is the energy of life. The yellow quintessence is the energy that is present in an ordinary living organism in normal natural concentration (someone has more of it, someone has less of it, I don’t know what the process of its extraction is). It's weak, but completely harmless. It healed Keith without harming him.

One large flask of yellow quintessence produces a small flask of purified violet quintessence. And I think that even less is the more powerful blue. And in the Rift, the quintessence was in an absolutely pure - white - form, completely intolerable for normal living beings. Yes, the quintessence is the energy of life itself and can't kill (that is, according to the logic of the series, Lotor just couldn't die in the Rift), but this doesn't mean that its overdose will lead to good consequences. The purple quintessence made the warden at Beta Traz (S2Ep10) swell like a balloon; with the help of blue quintessence they created a real monster (S5Ep5); the pure stream burned Honerva and Zarkon's brains in just a couple of minutes, and melted Lotor like cheese in the microwave.

Nothing from our universe has been able to survive the passage through the Rift.

Because they deformed so much that they ceased to be themselves.

In some way it was lucky, because next to it was a delicious Altean alchemist. As we know, even an ordinary Altean produces quintessence more than other races, and a powerful alchemist turns into a walking battery. In addition, Zarkon visited his wife periodically and became an excellent addition to the main course.

As a result, when Alfor came to check on his friend, he was surprised to notice that she had lost interest in him and was overly enthusiastic about research. And even Zarkon, who was initially wary of research, now also supported it.

This is because the quintessence diet wasn't the only feature of the entity. Remember how it got to Honerva in the first place: the entity responded to the signal sent to the Rift, sent to search for intelligent races, which means that DE is in a sense a kind of intelligent creatures (which "predates time itself", S8Ep8). And due to the lack of material organs, most likely, the entities communicated with each other through telepathy. The entity possessed mental abilities and, seeing a stable source of power in Honerva, tried to keep her close to itself, and also influenced Zarkon so that he fully supported his wife's aspirations.

I thought we've discussed this. We must exercise caution.

Alfor, belatedly realizing that it's not very smart to investigate an incomprehensible thing, tries to urge his friends to be careful. And it seems that at that particular moment he could have succeeded, because the DE's reaction to this statement was comparable to the reaction of an indignant cat - it immediately released the needles and hissed. And then, almost immediately, a whole wave of the entities poured out of the Rift. I think, it didn't like the new living space in the flask, and feeling a threat to life, the entity used its mental abilities and called for help.

Yes, if you think about it, then a fairly clear logical chain is built: Alfor showed aggression towards the entity - the entity was frightened - a whole wave of its relatives poured out of the Rift. They didn't just attack Daibazaal - they responded to the call for help. The entities clearly had a mutual mental connection, and maybe something like a collective intelligence. They even knew how to merge into a single organism that works no less harmoniously than Voltron.

As a result, literally a stone's throw from the capital, the planet was invaded by an army of dark creatures. Yes, Alfor and Honerva managed to stop the main stream, but who said they were able to trap all entities? Zarkon later stated that if urgent measures weren't taken, his people would be exterminated, which means that the entities had a chance to demonstrate their abilities. Perhaps only the security of the complex suffered, or maybe some of the creatures escaped from its borders, because there was a large lively city nearby. Having lost their natural source of food, the DE infiltrated the first victims, and the Galra died from exhaustion, since they didn't have a high level of quintessence like the Alteans. They literally turned into mummies in front of the doctors. The only thing that saved from the general pandemic was that it seemed that the entity couldn't leave the host itself and died with them, otherwise the DE would have jumped between the victims until they completely exterminated the Galra people (I'll explain a little later what led me to this idea). But not only the Galra were among the victims. Honerva said that Kova suffered from the influence of DE, and she had to treat him with quintessence. It was thanks to this that she discovered that the quintessence is the energy of life, capable of even giving immortality, and after such processing, Kova himself was able to survive even in outer space (S8Ep2). At that moment, Honerva believed that the entity simply hurt/badly affected her pet. No one could have imagined that DE isn't just an intelligent species, but capable of inhabiting living beings and even influencing their minds.

He revealed the truth to us.

Kova became unexpectedly aggressive towards Alfor in the absence of any clear reason.

And that was very bad, because Honerva herself became a victim of the parasite. She was an Altean and also an alchemist, and therefore at the beginning didn't even notice the "tenant". It ate hearty, almost without harming its feeder, even helped in some way - for example, it suggested to Honerva that the quintessence could save Kova from "illness", otherwise why would she even think of treating her beloved cat with a source of energy for ships and equipment? But. Just because an entity found a stable host doesn't mean that it was content with its position. The entity wanted to go home back to the Rift and began to influence its host to help in this. And therefore, after the death of the monster, despite all the troubles that it had caused, Honerva suddenly announced that she wanted to continue research. And Zarkon's behavior looks absurd at all: first, he demanded from Alfor to urgently use Voltron to save his people, and then almost immediately didn't care of Daibazaal's well-being and supported Honerva in her desire to continue working on the Rift.

My planet, my people ...

You would risk your entire planet, the entire solar system? For what?

And all because the entity tried to take control of him too. It no longer just sat in a flask, as happened with its predecessor. It had a feeder in the form of a powerful alchemist, and it was able to draw energy from her in sufficient quantities to spread its influence. And although the influence on Zarkon was weaker than on Honerva, it was still present enough for the Galra emperor to blindly agree with his wife.

Unfortunately, Alfor never understood what was happening. He thought that the prospect of owning the quintessence had simply overshadowed Zarkon's eyes, he didn't notice how dramatically his friend had changed. And even after whole years, the alchemist king realized that something bad was happening only after visiting Daibazaal years later. Apparently, away from his wife, Zarkon behaved quite adequately, because he got rid of the influence of the essence. But next to her he became blind and deaf, repeating the words of his wife like a dummy. As a result, the paladins continued their heroism, and the entity continued to eat Honerva and influence Zarkon. And at first no one noticed the changes. After all, the Alteans in S8 also didn't notice that the entities were harming them. When Honerva informed Zarkon that she was expecting a baby, she looked gray-haired but still as young as when she first appeared on screen. The body of the great alchemist more or less coped with one parasite. But when the fetus grew and began to draw all the juices from the mother, Honerva's health deteriorated. And the mind too, because the entity, sensing the critical state of the host, began to worry and increased its pressure.

A huge difference with a timeline of several months.

Remember what Lotor said about his mother's logs. According to him, at the very end, the recordings were made... as if by another person. Feverish, insane and disorderly. Fear and paranoia appeared in them.

She's frantic, paranoid, erratic, her reason and intellect have gone.

But what could Honerva be afraid of? Where did she get paranoia? She was expecting a child and was happy with the thought that she would give the empire her son, knowledge and a bright future. And all because it wasn't her emotions. The entity sensed that its host was dying and panicked. DE was afraid for its life and was afraid that it would be revealed when the host became very bad. It panicked and at times even subdued the body, trying to write something itself.

Therefore, when Alfor received disturbing news about Daibazal's condition and decided to visit a friend, he saw Honerva aged and... not quite in an adequate condition. Not realizing that Zarkon and his wife were under the influence of the DE, the alchemist king quarreled with them and left, slamming the door, although he was probably the only one who could help them in this situation.

After the conversation, Honerva faints as her condition reaches a critical point.

Remember what Honerva said when Zarkon desperately asked how to help her? She said she needed quintessence. Because the entity sensed that the host wasn't doing well and broadcast signals for help. Honerva asked to open the Rift not because of a clouding of her mind, but because DE really wanted to return home and save its life.

Quintessence is life.

For Honerva and DE - literally.

If we collect all the scraps of her phrases together, then we get this:

"We must... we must have it...we must have it... get back, get back, get back... quin... quintessence... quintessence is life... into the R... into the Rift. We must... we must have Voltron. Voltron! Voltron! This is the only way"

And it can be understood approximately like this:

"We must return to quintessence in the Rift. The quintessence is life. We need Voltron, only this can help"

And... who are "we"? Zarkon, of course, thought to himself, but who said that Honerva was talking about him?

If Alfor knew what was happening, if he tried to help Honerva, he might have saved both the mother and the child, as Allura saved Tavo (S8Ep8). In our situation, events developed in a sad direction: Zarkon deceived his friends in a desperate attempt to save his wife. And look: when Zarkon climbed out of the Lion with Honerva in his arms, they were immediately surrounded by entities. Because they were waiting to take one of their kind home. They didn't attack the paladins first, they were just going to take Honerva.

But one way or another, the DE's plan fell through. It remained inside Honerva, while Zarkon returned from the Rift with a burnt-out brain and a parasite inside. Actually, then even Lotor got the DE. The doctor noted that the child had the same strange energy background as the parents, and expressed concern that it wouldn't be possible to save the empress. Now there were already two entities and a child sitting inside - no wonder Honerva was getting worse and worse. And the poor nurse Haggar died simply because even the charge received from the Rift wasn't enough to survive Honerva. No alchemical gift was enough to cope with such a burden.

She only seems to become aware when we administer her Quintessence.

From this it's possible to draw conclusions about how the “illness” proceeded in other people, and it's weighty to assume that the entity couldn't leave the host of its own accord, dying with them. Otherwise, the DE would have left Honerva as soon as she began to fade.

Honerva only survived because Zarkon took care of a constant supply of the quintessence for his wife. Now he himself turned into a feeder and needed nourishment from the outside, since he was neither an Altean, nor an alchemist. The entity inside him, like all its relatives who fell into this world, wanted to return home, and therefore gradually a manic desire developed in Zarkon not only to get more quintessence, but also to return Voltron, as the only weapon capable of opening the Rift again. That's why he considered the creation of Alfor so special and necessary, despite the fact that the empire itself perfectly coped with the spread of its influence in the universe.

Moreover, in this situation, it's worthwhile to clearly distinguish between the change in character of Zarkon and his mania. Since the change in character was due to irradiation with pure concentrated quintessence, and mania appeared due to the presence of a parasite.

How the entity influenced Lotor remains questionable. The statement that it's DE who made him extract energy from the Alteans can be dismissed at once: first, as a prince of the Galra, he could receive the quintessence in the official way in any quantity and even take a bath of quintessence every day; secondly, even before birth he was irradiated with pure energy, which not only endowed him with immortality, but also awakened the sleeping gift of the alchemist. That is, Lotor didn't need personal consumption of the quintessence. On the other hand, his quest to end his mother's research may seem a little intrusive... but only slightly when compared to Honerva's obsessive research. Lotor was cold-blooded and non-fanatic about development, believing that research could solve the empire's energy issue. Therefore, the most stable theory is that, having settled in an unborn child, the entity simply fell asleep and slept peacefully for ten thousand years, signing with the energy of its immortal host.

But let's get back to Honerva, as her postpartum changes affected the future of the entire universe. Having given birth to a son, Honerva got rid of two parasites at once and, thanks to the influx of quintessence, gradually returned to normal. She didn't remember her past, but at some point she managed to realize that "a guest worker" was sitting in her body. Perhaps this knowledge came to her during a crisis, when the entity tried to contact everyone and asked for help. Being a great alchemist, Honerva no longer just put up with the intruder and obey it, but, on the contrary, set her own rules. From a parasite, the entity turned into a subordinate symbiont and shared its abilities with Honerva. It was from DE that Haggar received the gift of influencing other people's minds and drawing energy from living beings, which led to the creation of the Komar. Before her, none of the alchemists possessed such talents, and only Allura showed similar skills after a Clear Day episode. Haggar ceased to be just a feeder, she began to purposefully use the entity for her own purposes, and it had only to obey. As you can see, Haggar supported Zarkon in everything, but at the same time she was inclined to destroy Voltron rather than use it, and this is a consequence of the fact that the DE lost its control over her, turning into a humble servant.

One of the questions I asked myself while watching the show was who the druids of Haggar were and why they worship her so much. The druids had similar abilities, and I couldn't help thinking that Haggar was conducting experiments on the Alteans and turning them into her minions. But in the light of these considerations, everything turns out to be much simpler: Haggar gave dark entities to her subordinates/laboratory assistants and taught them to use them. For them, it became a revelation and a special gift, and therefore they treated their high priestess with such respect, and the needs of the essence were easily satisfied with the quintessence available to them.

And by the way, the real Lotor couldn't know about all this, since he was born much later than the events on Daibazaal. Lotor was aware that Haggar was able to read other people's minds and therefore became a real paranoid, but had no idea about the nature of this ability.

Entities like this gave Haggar the ability to conquer the worlds...

Lotor just couldn't know about it either.

What does Lotor's degree of falsity have to do with it? And here we need to move on to the events of Clear Day episode and the scenes with Allura, which made me think about the importance of the DE for the plot. And yes, on Clear Day we meet a different prince than the one who accompanied us throughout most of the series. Remember the moment Tavo was saved. Sam put the entity in a flask, and the first thing the entity tried to do was to take control of Allura. But the fact that Sam interrupted the process doesn't mean that DE stopped there. It's hungry, it lost her host - well, how can you resist a walking battery right in front of your nose?

And all of Allura's dreams, all visions didn't just appear out of thin air. DE really wanted a new host for itself, it aimed at Allura and wasn't going to stop. And note an interesting point: the longer Allura was near the entity, the closer she was to it, the larger the DE became. How small it was after being removed from the Tavo, and how huge it became by the end of the episode. First, the DE dug at the very top of her consciousness, and saw regret for her motherland and mother, because Allura just turned off the hologram with her parents before going to bed. Then it dug a little more and saw Lance. And then it dug in the very depths, saw Lotor and realized that yes - it would work.

Look at this frame and remember the frame with Honerva that I inserted above.

They (who edited S8) tried to show us that the terrible ghost of Lotor inclines Allura to something bad, but in reality Lotor didn't send anyone or anything. Lotor doesn't know alchemy and doesn't know how to control entities. How does he even know what kind of creatures they are? After all, he's a very proud man and will never beg anyone for himself. Why would he come and ask for help a woman who actually betrayed him and left him to die? The entity just wanted to eat and get a new host. And this whole performance with visions had one specific goal - to get Allura to free the parasite. And in order to achieve what it wanted, the DE showed Allura what she wanted to see. With these scenes, we were actually shown to whom at a given moment Allura had the greatest trust and affection, whom she wanted to see, and therefore they tried to either cut out or alter the scenes, because they clearly showed that memories of her mother became the main hook for Allura, and most importantly - Lotor. ...however, they didn't succeed. The scenes still look like Allura chased Lance away and indulges in erotic dreams of Lotor...

And laughing Lotor at the very end of the episode is the joy of the very DE that it achieved its goal. And it said to Allura "Follow me!" because in some way it decided to fulfill the desire of the new host. Want to chat with Lotor? I'll deal with it - in the end, my relative is sitting in him, and we have a mental connection with each other. And it was the understanding that such a connection between entities exists that allowed Allura to then penetrate into Honerva's mind. But first, Allura had to figure out that yes - there was a connection. And she could only figure out, only realizing that it was thanks to the presence of the DE inside that she was able to connect with Lotor. Does it look logical? It is logical. And I can easily imagine the beginning of their conversation, when Lotor is surprised at the appearance of Allura in his mind/dream, and she exclaims in amazement that he himself called her. A situation will arise that requires a retelling of the events that have taken place, which will make Lotor understand that now Allura is ready to listen to him and is capable of a reasonable dialogue.

On the other hand, Alfor's worries becomes more justified. He was frightened not just by the self-will of his daughter, who decided to play with an unknown force. Before his eyes the example of his own best friend, who suffered from a parasite, arose, and after all, Honerva was an experienced and powerful alchemist. He was afraid that Allura would also become a victim of the entity, and therefore began to persuade his daughter to abandon the dangerous idea. Yes, Alfor was prone to hyper-custody, but he wasn't as bad a father as they tried to show us in S8.

But at what cost?

And after all that has been described, only one question remains: how did the history of the DE come to an end - but alas, it's no longer possible to find out, since the end of this storyline was simply cut off. Perhaps the entities managed to somehow come to an agreement with Allura, and she helped them return home, because in the end this is exactly what they wanted most.

Personally, I'm simply glad that, despite the flair of alchemy aka magic, Voltron turned out to be much closer to science fiction than to a space opera, and the events have a more weighty explanation than just a magical plot twist that arose at the behest of the screenwriter. A parasite from another reality, a higher mind as the last stage in the evolution of an intelligent being - these are quite classic elements of this genre, very elegantly blended into the outline of the series.

#VLD #voltron #haggar #honerva #zarkon #Allura

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scarlettrhettelizabethrichard · 3 years

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Chapter 7. Neighbours & Mills Associates, my GWTW fanfiction

To read all the chapters of my GWTW fanfiction The Boutique Robillard, check my blog https://alarecherchedutempsperdu.over-blog.com/tag/the%20robillard%20boutique/

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Chronology : 1865 : Duncan returns to Paris, creates La Mode Duncan - 1873, December, divorce - 1874, January, Rhett visits Paris - 1875, january : Duncan returns to Charleston ; he buys Magnolias' Mansion ; Duncan "builds" the Vayton & Harvey Mills factory - 1875, February 5th : Rhett meets Duncan at Magnolias' Mansion - 1876, February : Grand Father Robillard died, Scarlett inherits, discovers La Mode Duncan' shop in Savanah - 1876, May : Scarlett opens her fashion shop in Atlanta - 1876, May : Charleston's event for Duncan.

Here is a long chapter. First, Duncan must buy his spinning factory for the textiles he is going to use. On the second part of this chapter comes the tough part : THE meeting Rhett x Duncan. Not really tough because our - their - dear Scarlett is not between yet...

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Charleston, 1875, January

The management of his family legacy eventually secure, the young couturier could now set up the American branch of "La Mode Duncan". No time was to be wasted, for the task was going to be tough.

First and foremost, a telegram had to be sent to Lille, France. "Blanche - stop - Need you - stop - Emigrate to America - stop - Take your children with you - stop – I send certificate of employment - stop - Letter follows - stop. » Blanche would be surprised by this terse text, but she would soon understand the situation by reading his letter to her. He explained what he wanted from her, and enclosed certificates guaranteeing her a job and a place to live when she arrived in Charleston. Duncan had no doubt that the loyal Blanche would immediately leave her family, her former life, to take her chances and emigrate to North America at the request of the owner of "La Mode Duncan" France. He would arranged the immigration formalities for her so that she would not have to worry about them and booked a place on the ship in the port of Le Havre. He didn't forget to send another telegram to his partner Roger Dax so that he could give one of his best workers a subsequent bonus. If all went well, Blanche Augustine Bonsart would be there in time for the creation of the new "La Mode Duncan" workshop in Charleston. ***

In the meantime, it took all his energy to select a textile factory capable of producing his own fabrics. There was no question of importing yards of fabric from France because he wanted to take advantage of the craze for local products, which was strong in the 1870s. Duncan had seen this when he visited the gigantic H. B. Claftin and C° shop in New York, which specialised in American-made textiles*. His first dilemma was to locate his spinning mill. The majority of them were located in the Northern states. The small factories in the South processed only a negligible amount of bales while, paradoxically, the South was the Master of cotton production. In keeping with his values, he wanted to set up in one of the former Confederate states. He was pleased to find that several mills had been established in South Carolina along the rivers, because of the abundant forests providing cheap resin to power the steam-powered machines. In early January he chose the best woolen mills owned by Jerry Harvey, and offered him a partnership. "Vayton & Son Ltd would buy 60% of the shares to take over management control. The textile entrepreneur thus ensured that he had full control over production methods, because the real problem facing Duncan was the quality of the final product. "Mr Harvey, we have to face an unpleasant reality. As you know, the textiles that come out of our Southern mills are 'low grade'. You produce mainly canvas, which is bought mostly by poor blacks, and cretonnes, such as shirting and drills, which are sold in the West*, but « La Mode Duncan » targets a wealthy clientele. It therefore had to use only the best-quality fabrics, comparable to those woven in France, in Roubaix, Mulhouse or Lyon. » "I am aware of that, Sir. Vayton & Harvey Woolen Mill Ltd will, no doubt, be able to rise to the challenge with the investment you are making available." "It's true, Mr. Harvey, the project is ambitious but necessary to master the quality at all stages. Our objective is, in the short or medium term, to dominate the high quality textile market, at least for South Carolina, Georgia and Louisiana. The sales potential is promising as it meets the aspirations of the upper class ladies and the nouveau riche. My tailor shop will of course be the first customer for "high-end" fabrics. We'll build a loyal following of Southern tailors and dressmakers who are frustrated that they can't buy better textiles locally. » Jerry Harvey adds: "I understand that you want our factory to be like the most modern textile mills in the North, managing all stages of production from the intake of cellulose bales, through spinning, weaving, dyeing and printing, to the transformation of the finished product." The owner of the French spinning mill Vayton & Dax said: "Yes, we must be inspired by the modernity of the North for the automation of tasks allowing a better output, use machines for certain stages such as the handling of the cellulose bags by winch and not by hand, etc.. The labour we save will be wisely transferred to other stages of production, such as dyeing and printing. » Jerry Harvey was impressed by his technical knowledge of the American market, despite the fact that he had just spent ten years in France. "What is your idea of influencing these steps? » The strength of the North American spinning mills is their modernity, speed of manufacture and large quantity produced. It is also their weakness. Compare, for example, the number of looms managed by each worker: here in the North, a single weaver is in charge of five machines, with the added requirement of speed. In France, as in my spinning mill in Roubaix, the worker is only in charge of two looms at a time*. You can understand that, in these conditions, even fabrics of common quality have many manufacturing defects. This is why Vayton & Harvey Woolen Mills Ltd will reduce the number of looms run by one worker to two." "That's an excellent suggestion. It will be expensive, of course, but it will pay off in the end," reassured Jerry Harvey. "Dyeing is my concern because I would like to use indigo. I know that its use is becoming scarce, but let's rely on the authenticity of local products. In the same spirit, we need to hire skilled chemists to ensure the consistency of the colours of the print. » "In conclusion, in order to get closer to French quality, we will have to increase the number of staff and systematically check for defects at every stage. » Duncan was satisfied that he had reached the end of his argument. "Yes, Mr Harvey, you and I are about to embark on a great adventure. This week I will contact an architect to modernise the warehouses. My contacts in the North have sent me the manufacturer's catalogue so that I can order the new looms and the more efficient printing machines. I am determined that production can start within three months. » Enthusiastically, Jerry Harvey proposed to his new partner: "I will submit to you within the week a projection of the number of employees to be hired, for each stage of transformation, by position. We can keep the American quota of two-thirds women in the spinning mill for jobs that don't require the use of too much force,* because they too need to work to overcome the economic depression. We will need more women spoolers, carders, and defect workers. »

Jerry Harvey's head was spinning. He felt an immense relief: the family spinning mill created by his father was saved! What's more, its fame would soon spread throughout the Deep South! For Duncan, all that remained was to set up his high fashion studio "La Mode Duncan" in Charleston. The hardest part was yet to come! *****

Charleston, 1875, Wednesday 5 February, at the Butler's "Rhett! I would really like you to come with us in the late afternoon with our new neighbours. The reception is not formal. It's just a « vin d’honneur » to celebrate the Vaytons' move to Magnolias' Mansion. » Rhett looked at Eleonor Butler with an amused expression: "Mother, your son is 48 years old. I think you can do without my presence to go and have tea with your friends. » "It's in your best interest. Three years ago, when you came back from Atlanta, didn't you tell me that you wanted to regain your place among our good Charleston society? I admit that you have made great efforts with your charity work. But what better support could you gain than from Charleston's oldest and most respected family? Especially since this friendship could also benefit your business, as the heir to Vayton Ltd is one of the richest men in the United States of America! » Faced with this avalanche of arguments, Rhett had only one solution: to accept the invitation to the Vaytons. *****

Charleston, 1875, Wednesday 5 February, at the Vayton home Melina had learned her lesson well by leaving the "hospitality" door to the porch open to let the Butler neighbours know that they were eagerly awaited. Barnabee, the butler, opened the inner door to the piazza. Mrs. Vayton came to greet them warmly and directed them on their right to the drawing room. Eleonor Butler and her daughter had had many opportunities to be received by the previous owners, the Hopkins. Nevertheless, they were amazed by the new interior design. Mrs. Vayton introduced her daughter to the Butlers. Rhett paid his respects to Cathleen and Melina with an elegant hand kiss. They were charmed. The lady of the house apologised to her guests: "My son is in his office. He had to write an urgent letter to France. He will join us in a few minutes. » The four women settled into comfortable chairs and happily began to exchange stories about the Battery. Rhett took the opportunity to cast his art-loving eye over the impressively large reception room. Everything was a harmony of forms, styles and materials. The room occupied the entire width of the façade. The light, that radiated from the five front windows and the two French windows overlooking the piazza, accentuated the grandiose aspect of this room reserved for prestigious guests and receptions among friends. The aesthete appreciated the conscious choice to contrast the curves of the architecture with the straight lines of the furniture. The sinuosity of the wall of the three bowed-windows stretched like a serpentine on either side of the other two windows. These curved lines echoed the moulded stucco frieze around the ceiling and the arch over the door. What an aesthetic success! The osmosis between the curves, the glitter of light, the walls partially painted in pale yellow, while the ceiling, the base and the windows were of a brilliant white, instilled an atmosphere of tranquillity. The softness of the whole was accentuated by the pale yellow lustrous silk of the upholstered seats. The contrast with the rigorous Empire style of the French furnishings Duncan bought in New York was all the more striking. Straight, clean lines, sharp-edged ornaments. The same antagonism of colours struck the visitor, between the mahogany and gold bronzes of the furniture as if lifted by the blond oak floor. Rhett was fascinated. Of course, he knew the French style that Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte had initiated: originally furniture dedicated the military men, a martial style, straight seats that allowed soldiers, such as General Bonaparte, to keep their swords in a seated position without embarrassment. A spartan and severe spirit that was called the Directoire style**. When Napoleon was crowned Emperor, with the pomp of the Court, the furniture became a pretext to testify to the power and wealth of the Empire. The flamed mahogany veneer was decorated with luxurious ornaments in gilded bronze, like the magnificent sphinxes enthroned under the armrests of the armchairs in the Vayton salon or the caryatids placed on either side of the overmantel. This large pier-mirror topped a black marble fireplace in the American Federal style that the first owner of the house had installed. Meanwhile, Barnabee had made his entrance. Three large silver trays generously garnished with fine food had been placed on the round side tables protected by beautiful embroidered tablecloths. The cook, Netty, had taken particular care in preparing the small canapés and other croustades. This was the very first invitation from the Vayton family. Even though it was not a dinner party, it was important to honour the closest neighbours of the Magnolias' Mansion. Barnabee was now dexterously serving refreshments. Rhett politely accepted a canapé with scallop terrine, and then resumed his admiring inspection of the place, while the four women were absorbed in discovering common interests. While admiring the finesse of the "Return from Egypt" sculptures,** Rhett the businessman recalled a conversation he had had with some English entrepreneurs in London. An idea came to him. It seemed obvious. At last he would find the excitement of embarking on a great adventure... The elegance and luxury of the place definitely appealed to him. Suddenly a regret assailed Rhett: "If only I had helped Scarlett refine her tastes, instead of leaving her without advice and mocking her disastrous decorative choices, I'm sure she would have loved the abundance of golden bronzes and the warmth of mahogany." The Old Guard would have been jealous of his wife, that's for sure, because of the display of so much luxury. But at least they would not have reproached her for a lapse in taste. "How I regret, Scarlett..." Rhett shook his head to get rid of the flush of weakness that once again overtook him. "Damn it! Why can't I put her out of my mind? Even a year after our divorce - no! It's been fifteen months since our divorce, sixteen months since we saw each other, Scarlett - and you still torment me! Will there be no end to this? » The entrance of the master of the house interrupted his depressing thoughts and he stood up to greet the young man who was holding out his hand. After Cathleen introduced their neighbours to Duncan Vayton, he sat down opposite the Butlers' eldest son. In a fraction of a second, the two gentlemen looked at each other. Rhett thought to himself that the young Vayton exuded sympathy with his frank smile and keen eye. "His good looks must please the ladies! Old Ashley would be jealous of his blonde hair. "He chuckled under his breath, still eager to belittle Scarlett's former blond knight, now quite grey. Duncan, for his part, was impressed by Mr Butler's bearing. The man wore his age elegantly, and his impeccable dress showed an undeniable accuracy of taste. Both men identified the other as belonging to the caste of well-born and refined gentlemen. "May I offer you a glass? In your honour, I have selected an excellent Cote Chateau Lafite Rothschild, from the 1870 vintage. This bottle is part of the reserve that I brought back from France when I returned here in January. I am sure you are a great connoisseur yourself, and I will be happy, another day, to show you around my wine cellar. » Then addressing the ladies present: "Ladies, would you like to try this excellent wine? The four women gently refused. They did not want to disturb the cordial understanding that seemed to have developed between the two men. "Cathleen, ever since we arrived, I have been admiring these lovely tablecloths on the pedestal tables. The fabric is of such beautiful quality and the embroidery designs are exquisitely difficult! » Duncan's mother smiled broadly, "Dear Friend, I am proud to say that they are made in the French mill owned by my son. "Then, turning to the young man, she said, "Duncan, could you ask your partner to send Mrs. Butler several sets of tea towels to complement the large embroidered doilies?» Mrs. Butler politely declined at first, but was delighted with the gift to come. Rhett thought that the man in front of him was definitely resourceful. "Duncan - I think we can call each other by our first names. What do you think? "The other nodded. "I'd love to, Rhett! » He continued: "I am in awe of your Empire period furniture. At West Point, when we were taught the military strategy of the French Emperor, we sometimes made a foray into the study of Napoleon Bonaparte-influenced lifestyles and decorating style." Duncan was amazed at the similarities between them. "It was my love for this great character that made me decide to decorate Magnolias' Mansion with an Empire feel, particularly influenced by the battles fought by General Bonaparte in the Egyptian Campaign**. Young Vayton added: "And I too began to admire Napoleon at West Point! What a happy coincidence, Rhett! We have the same artistic tastes, we're avid oenophiles and we've had similar training. I think we'll get along just fine! "Duncan gave Rhett his friendliest smile.

He continued: "Which regiment did you lead during the war? Perhaps we have crossed paths? » Rhett suddenly found himself on a ridge. To admit that he had only joined the Confederacy at the end when the South was about to lose - that famous night when he had abandoned Scarlett on the road to Rough and Ready? It might not look good for this new 'white knight in shining armour'. But he didn't care. Goodness gracious! The great Rhett Butler was proud of his past, and he would impress the impetuous young man! "I was a blockade breaker. One of the best, I must humbly confess! "he assured them in a drawl so charming that the four women stopped their casual conversation to listen to his story. "I was in command of one of the largest steam-powered sidewheelers, the SS Lynx. It had a steel hull and was 220 feet long***. But I changed a year later to a smaller, more malleable and much faster steamer, capable of dodging the Federal Navy. I was probably one of the first to be awarded the "letter of marque" signed by President Jefferson Davis, which attested to my service to the Confederacy. "Rhett gave his mother a mischievous smile. "A paper that would not have protected me from hanging if I had been captured by Federal forces. » Mrs Butler shuddered in retrospect. "Her dear daredevil of a son! » "The Yankee naval army had set up the "Anaconda Plan", a blockade belt encircling the Confederate states. The front line looked like a snake, running from Maryland up the Missouri River.*** And it was indeed an anaconda that strangled the Confederate states by preventing them from obtaining arms, getting supplies from Northern factories, receiving cargo from British ships, and being able to export their cotton production. » Rhett the seducer was now mostly talking to Melina for the sake of impressing her. "What were you carrying? "asked the young Vayton, amazed to have an adventurous hero as a neighbour. "Mostly weapons for our Confederate Army, gunpowder, bullets for rifles, and mail too: in our own way, we were in the front line of the fighting! » "We would have to sail along the coast at night, using indians tricks to get into the harbour and fool the Union ships! "Rhett's eyes glistened at the excitement and fear that gripped the entire crew as they approached the danger. Cathleen Vayton also found herself transported by the exploits of the former blockade breaker: "How many times have you managed to get through the lines? » "Thirty-three times! My first arrival in Nassau was on 5 December 1861. We were loading cargoes from England, filled with guns, lead, meat, saltpetre, shoes, blankets, coffee, and also the more luxurious items of clothing and sewing, necessary for your daily life, dear ladies! » "The transfer points, between the ships coming from England and us taking over the cargo, were from Nassau. Then we sailed to the ports of Wilmington, Charleston and Savannah. On the return trip to Nassau, the planters would entrust us with their cotton production, which would then make the crossing in English freighters. »

"The hull of my little steamer was painted grey to make it as inconspicuous as possible offshore. Duncan, did you know that when we were approaching the coast we used to feed the boiler with anthracite coal instead of coal so that the smoke would be white and dissolve on the horizon? I have even used cotton soaked in turpentine to raise the heat and substantially increase the speed. Rhett's eye twitched as he thought of these anecdotes. "We had to use indians tricks, I tell you! » Duncan looked at his quiet neighbour in a new light. "I met some brave men, who were not afraid of anything. You've probably heard of the famous Josiah Gorgas, who also graduated from West Point. He was my friend. » Duncan admired Rhett Butler's valour. "It is true! The Cause has paid tribute to those brave blockade-breakers who braved machine-gun fire and the beaching of their ships to relieve us of Yankee asphyxiation. However, it is regrettable that some took advantage of this to enrich themselves by not giving priority to supplying our troops. I remember a certain Butler - one of your namesakes, Rhett - with whom I was in business to repatriate a shipment of military jackets and trousers made at my expense in my French factory. His transport prices were prohibitive. I had tried to make him understand by special mail that these uniforms would be used to protect our soldiers from the rigours of the rain and the cold, but nothing was could change his mind! He shamelessly told me that I had to accept his price because the cargo space available on his ship was very coveted. » Duncan gave a disillusioned pout at the memory. Rhett got up from his seat. He looked straight at the former Lieutenant-Colonel: "It was me, Captain Rhett Butler! » Startled eyes stared at him. "You? You’re disappointing me, Mr Butler. I thought we shared the same values. After this revelation, I'm not so sure..." Rhett was not disconcerted by this sudden reversal of cordial understanding. "Times were tough. One third of the available space on our ships was legally reserved for the transport of cotton, so that the economy would not collapse*** - which it did. I had to feed my crew and make a profit from these expeditions where our lives were threatened at every moment. I do not regret my choices. I take responsibility for them. » Chin up, his imposing stature extended, Rhett stared defiantly at Duncan. The former benefactor of the Cause just didn't know how to respond. The ladies present became aware of the sudden change in atmosphere. The tension between the two men had become tangible. To distract and inject some levity, Melina brought up her favourite subject: "This place is a real paradise, but for our dear Mum's joy to be complete, we need something more. » Cathleen wondered, "What are you thinking, girl? » "To children's laughter, of course! "The young Vayton was pleased with her effect. "Isn't it your dream to see your grandchildren running around the paths of our beautiful garden?" "Children's laughter..." Rhett felt a twinge of sadness. "No, he mustn't imagine his beloved Bonnie sharing the games of other children here. Or else he wouldn't be able to keep a straight face until the end of this reception. Mrs Vayton exchanged a knowing smile with Mrs Butler. "I hope this dream will soon become a reality thanks to our children! "Then her gaze fell on Duncan. He was still confused by his neighbour's revelation. "Why are you looking at me, Mother? I'm leaving it to Melina to ensure the Vayton descendants. When will you take a husband, my dear sister?" Melina blushed: "When I find my Prince Charming. "Then she jumped in: "You're the oldest. It's up to you to get married first. Are you ready to introduce us to the woman of your dreams? » Duncan was taken aback by his sister's questioning. "The woman of my dreams? A concept that never crossed my mind, I confess. "He chuckled. "In fact, I doubt very much if she exists! "In any case," he added, giving his sister a sly smile, "you'd be the first to know if I ever came across her. Let me tell you, I'm not about to introduce you to her! » Melina insisted, cuddling. "Make an effort, Big Brother. How will you recognize her? » He remained silent for a few moments, in deep introspection. Surprised by his own train of thought, he finally said in a hesitant voice: "If she existed, I think I would know it immediately. Within the first few minutes. She would have a fiery temperament, a panther ready to purr or claw, soft skin..." Duncan paused abruptly, embarrassed by his indecent confidence, an admission of weakness made all the more awkward by the fact that it had been dropped in the presence of a man as impavid as Rhett Butler. Rhett, who had approached the piazza, froze. A succession of images assailed him: a library, a green muslin, a pearly shoulder, a broken vase, two emeralds, sparkles of anger... He closed his eyes to chase away the hallucinations that haunted him every night. In rage, he shoved his fists into his pockets. Melina looked at her brother in amazement: "Oh, you the hardened bachelor, are you in fact a passionate man ? You didn't accustom me and Mum to such lyricism!" She burst out laughing. The young man did not know what to say. For the first time, without his noticing it, he had put words to a fantasy that had never been consciously thought of before. "Don't get too excited, dear sister. In any case, this woman does not exist. » Melina then turned to the eldest son of the Butler family. "What about you, Rhett? Would you describe the woman of your dreams to me? Who knows, maybe your sister and I could find her among our friends .... What do you think Rosemary?" Her laughing eyes met the embarrassed faces of both the Butler women and her mother. "Melina, this is unseemly of you. "Cathleen sternly rebuked her, outraged that Rhett Butler's chaotic marital situation could be so cavalierly invoked. Then she turned to Rhett: "Mr Butler, I apologise for my daughter's indiscretion. Melina is as giddy as a child. In her defence, I must say she is an incorrigible romantic. » Her daughter then realised her blunder. She was clearly missing a piece of information that those present had. Eleonor Butler was silent, fearing a sarcastic reaction from her son. Duncan had lost interest in the subject and was enjoying his glass of wine. The heated argument of a few minutes ago was still bothering him. So he told himself he didn't give a damn about Rhett Butler's "dream woman. With that drawl he liked to use before he was about to make a hurtful remark, Rhett replied to Cathleen: "I see no offence in your dear daughter's innocent question. » Then, with a smirk that looked more like a sneer, he amused himself by staring at the young woman who was now blushing with confusion. "The dream woman? You should know, Miss Melina, that sometimes we have to take control of our dreams, to give up those that are futile. "Then his gaze drowned in the direction of the porch. His intonation froze the other four guests. The awkwardness that had crept in over the last quarter of an hour became overwhelming. It was time to end the tension. "Cathleen, I'm sure you're exhausted from moving in. It is now time for us to take our leave and for you to rest. The warm welcome you have given us in your beautiful mansion is very special to me. We shall both see you next week. Good evening to you, my dear Eleonor, your lovely daughter and the talented Duncan! » That evening, two neighbours who could have been friends were not sad to part... ****

Endnotes to Chapter 7 *My sources of information on the cotton economy and textile mills in the USA in 1870 are based on Louis Reybaud's thesis published in 1870, "L'Industrie et les Ouvriers du Coton aux États-Unis depuis la guerre de secession", Revue des Deux Mondes, 2nd period, volume 90, 1870. **Directoire, 1795-1799: government that succeeded the period of the French Revolution. The Directoire style of furniture extends to 1803. - Egyptian Campaign: battles led by General Bonaparte from 1798 to 1801 - "Return from Egypt": term characterising the style of ornamentation - Empire, 1804-1815: General Bonaparte was crowned Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte. - Empire style furniture, from 1803 to 1821. ***Blockade Breakers during the American Civil War: source Wikipedia. Disclaimers : I do not own the story and characters of Gone with the Wind which belong to Margaret Mitchell. The “world” of Duncan Vayton and Blanche Bonsart are my creation.

#gone with the wind #fanfiction #fantic #gwtw #roman

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casinoscabana494 · 3 years

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Tuf z370-pro gaming how to control leds

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sevenincubistolemyheart · 5 years

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Tainting Purity Chapter 3

Au: Demon

Tag list: @bangtans-apollo @xsunnyhoseokx @wilhelminalucinda @xsmilebitesx @okgoogul @mariacorbi @spiritualotaku @littlekitten8590 @felic-ci @saturated-pink @fckyouartclass @saraisthoughts @godrics @theshiningmoonsblog @winterseoul @nomimits7 @miss-delacour @apphiaasensio20 @novakitten0901 @thatonebibabe @2seokkyo @marvelkatwoman @vannilacake @books-are-way-better-than-movies @bluespidergirl56 @io-is-lame @avalanet @psiphidragon @livingbubbles-blog @inutiledediscuter @korkorky @iie-wakarimasen @pvrple-kookie @yoongiismytruelove @amiraclerenee @eltrain80 @shelley-hennig14 @bts-edits-bitch @frankenstein852 @oii-f-eli-x

Rating: M

Potential Triggers: Kinks in this chapter include degradation, mentions of orgasm denial, edging, exhibitionism and more marking. Things do get a bit darker in this chapter so being put down verbally/talked down to. Check the masterlist as I update for all the triggers in the series up to that point.

Pairing: BTS x Reader/OT7 x Reader

Genre: Supernatural, Drama, Romance, Angst, Fluff, Hurt & Comfort

Length: 11.8k (These just keep getting longer lmao)

It didn't take you very long to change at all though Namjoon's words echoed in your mind, as did the sting of his mark. You couldn't help but sigh as you realized Hoseok and Yoongi had marked you much more than Jimin had. One particularly high mark made by Yoongi on your neck caused you to both blush, and groan. Clearly, he wanted others to know you belonged to him. Odd, since he didn't seem to be the possessive type.

You exited the bathroom with a question on your lips that you quickly asked Namjoon who was now fully dressed as well. “Does the bond between whoever marks me deepen if there are more marks?” Namjoon raised an eyebrow at your blunt question, clearly not expecting it though he easily recovered after a moment, and smiled. “Why do you ask? Ah…” He walked a bit closer and nodded in understanding. “I see Yoongi got a little too excited, and I'm sure Hoseok did as well. Don't worry. Quantity isn't a factor, it's the intention behind the mark that drives its power. Since Hoseok and Yoongi both had the same intentions as Jimin no doubt, it'll have the same potency as well. Anyway, you ready to head out?”

He chuckled as he took in your appearance and stepped forward, fixing the buttons that had given you so much trouble with ease. “Apparently not.” He shook his head at you with a smile you'd call fond if you didn't know better, pulling away. “There, now you're all set.” You blushed a bit at the close proximity, somehow still easily flustered despite all you'd been through with him and the others already. He started heading for the door causing you to follow after him like a lost duckling.

It was only a few minutes later when you all piled out of the car, this time without any underhanded shenanigans and made your way inside the mall. It was crazy to believe you'd only met the 7 of them at 11 am that same morning and now it was only 7 pm with all that had happened.

“So, here's the game plan. Taehyung, Jungkook and Jin are gonna take you to get some clothes while Yoongi, Jimin, Hoseok and I take care of some business of our own.”

Namjoon explained. Jimin attempted to whine. “But hyung I want-” He cut himself off at the warning glare he received from both Jin and Namjoon though he pouted and grumbled under his breath.

You found yourself endeared by his childish behavior and giggled as you hugged him. “Don't worry Jimin, I'll miss you too. Oh!” You yelped as Jungkook pulled you away into a hug of his own while smirking at Jimin. “Don't worry hyung. I'll take good care of her in your place.” His voice was full of smugness.

You heard Jin sigh as he made his way over, sending a pointed look Jungkook's way as Jimin growled protectively. “Don't start Jungkook. Keep in mind Jimin's the only one you're pissing off.” Jungkook scoffed but you felt his body betray him as he tensed when he saw Hoseok, Yoongi, and Namjoon looking ready to pounce.

It was odd to see for you since they were typically all very in control of their emotions, especially Yoongi and Namjoon. Namjoon seemed to realize this and cleared his throat before he forced himself to speak calmly, despite his eyes daring Jungkook to disobey him.

“Knock it off Jungkook. Now. Or you'll join us and I'll just have Taehyung and Jin take her.”

This caught Taehyung's attention who lit up with a bright boxy smile at the thought. Jungkook laughed nervously at the threat and backed off, pulling away his arms from around your waist to instead rub the back of his neck in sheepish defeat as he averted his gaze to the floor in submission.

Jin nodded in satisfaction as Jungkook got the message and the eldest strode forward to sling a playful arm around both of your shoulders with a shout of. “Onwards!” He guides you 2 inside while Taehyung trailed just behind you, hands in his pockets casually as he followed after you all at a leisurely, unhurried pace.

When you spotted Rue 21 and made your way to steer Jin towards it at the sight of a good sale going on, he turned to look down at you and released both you and Jungkook from his grasp. You turned to look at him with a hum of curiosity and were surprised to see him looking at the store in confusion. A look at the other two boys showed you that Jungkook was on his phone, seemingly already bored and Taehyung was looking up at the store with apprehensive curiosity shining in his gaze. You raised an expectant eyebrow at them.

“Are you coming in or not?”

Jungkook looked up from his phone, glanced at the store and then at you, hands on your hips and smirked, slipping his phone into his back pocket.

“I guess so. Could be fun to see you try stuff on.”

You fought the blush that threatened to make its way onto your cheeks at the suggestive tone in his voice and huffed at him, turning on your heel with a grumbled.

“Don’t get any ideas, we’re just getting me clothes you little brat.”

His eyes darkened at your retort though you didn’t notice as you began making your way into the store, assuming the others would follow, and they did.

Taehyung and Jin seemed a bit hesitant to do so but they came up behind you after a few seconds while you examined the simple t-shirts on display, feeling the fabric, and smiling at how soft it was. This was why you loved this store. Nothing beat cheap and high-quality.

Taehyung however, didn’t seem to agree.

“You shop here? Why?”

You turned to glare at him, growing a bit defensive at his judgemental tone.

“I like this store, that’s why. Why? Do you have a problem with it?”

“Not particularly. You could just do so much better.”

Seokjin cleared his throat then, saving Taehyung from himself as he spoke up and stepped forward to look at the shirts with you.

“What he meant to say is that we can take you somewhere that has better quality stuff than here, and you don’t have to worry about price or anyth-”

You cut Seokjin off with a smile, though your eyes showed your genuine irritation.

“There’s nothing wrong with shopping here, I’m totally fine.”

Jungkook merely watched you with calculating eyes as the other 2 raised their hands in surrender.

“Fine, fine. Whatever you wa-”

Jungkook was the one to cut Jin off this time and the eldest sent him an irritated glare.

“Let’s make a deal princess. If we let you shop here for a few items, then you’ve got to let us take you to a store we choose.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened in surprise as you shook your head and turned to look at him from examining the shirts with Jin, a few now in your arms for you to purchase.

“No, I’m good, but thank you.”

He was surprised. Had...had you just said no? He tried a different approach, following after you and leaning down to growl seductively in your ear as you looked through the pants rack.

“That wasn’t a question angel.”

You smiled, deceptively sweet as you turned to look at him, patting his cheek with a patronizing.

“Too bad. I said no anyway. You’ll have to do better than that little boy.”

You mocked him with the nickname he’d used on you that first time in the car and walked away to try on your chosen clothes, hearing Taehyung tease him.

“Wow Kookie, never thought I’d see the day you got told off by a Human, let alone a girl half your size~”

You smirked in satisfaction, feeling like you’d finally won for once as you all but skipped to the changing rooms. Served him right.

You had just taken off your shirt to reveal your sports bra underneath when you saw Jin walk in behind you in the mirror making you gasp and instinctively try to cover your breasts further as your cheeks flushed.

“Seokjin! Why didn’t you say anything!?”

You only had a moment to realize he was looming closer rather than backing out before you were whirled around by your shoulders quickly. You looked up at him in surprise as he was dead silent, staring down at something near your shoulder intensely. Your eyes widened in realization. Shit! Your neck! You looked over to the mirror and saw Namjoon’s mark still had some of your blood-now dried- on your skin.

Seokjin scoffed in apparent disgust, leaning down to lick at the mark and speaking to you between slurps.

“Ugh-leave it to Namjoon to not clean up after himself. I taught him better than this.” He sucked at a particularly stubborn spot of blood and looked at your hand in surprise as you gripped his shoulder at the shot of pleasure that went to your core, voice a warning whine.

“Jin…”

He smirked, eyes now red from your blood on his tongue, snickering in amusement at your desperation as he pulled away briefly to observe your expression, tinted tongue flicking over his lips quickly as he reveled in that pout on your lips, eyes trying to glare but steadily growing weaker under his influence.

“Ugh, you’re so easy to rile up, even for a virgin. Don’t worry baby, I’ll clean you up properly unlike him.”

He reassured you, leaning down to finish cleaning your neck before he began harshly sucking a mark of his own diagonal to Namjoon’s. He clearly knew what he was doing. The action was quick but he used just enough pressure to provide so much pleasure your legs grew shaky yet there wasn’t a single ounce of pain.

You were panting as he pulled away to observe his handiwork, taking your chin and moving your head to the side gently so he could fully take it in. He hummed in approval and stepped away from you to leave, casually adjusting his shirt cuffs before he looked over his shoulder at your still dazed form and winked.

“Go ahead and try on what you picked out darling. I’ll be perusing around the store in the meantime. Forgive me for losing my composure like that.”

With that, he was gone. You managed to collect yourself once again quickly enough and turned to observe his mark in the mirror along with the others since they were now all visible on your half-naked form.

Hoseok’s were placed with wild abandon all over your midsection making your cheeks heat at the memory while Yoongi’s seemed more methodical, placed in areas he’d found more sensitive than others to drive you all the more crazy with lust, Jimin only had the small one on your collarbone but it was still easy to see. Namjoon’s was the largest thus far since he didn't hold back at all on the opposite side of your neck, and also very red and pronounced as it was so recent. Jin’s, therefore, was as well, yet it was the smallest of all of them despite the earth-shattering amount of pleasure it’d brought you.

You shook these thoughts away, focusing on trying on the few shirts and pants you got, and ignoring the way your heart clenched at the sight of the bruise on your stomach, a clear reminder of all you’d lost sticking with your beliefs.

Even still, you didn’t regret your choice.

You exited the changing room with a cheery grin and a spring in your step. It’d seem all the choices you’d made fit you well, save for one pair of pants and a shirt. You put the clothes you were planning on purchasing by the cashier so they were organized and turned on your heel to put away the other two items. After you hung the jeans back up you turned to make your way to the shirts but instead felt an arm circle around your waist, causing you to drop the shirt as your assaulter cupped their hand over your mouth before your instinctual scream could escape, pulling you into the center of the pants rack and hiding you both from the world.

You violently struggled for a few moments, getting ready to elbow your captor until just as you began to feel genuine panic and fear a familiar voice at your ear made you stop.

“Did I scare you? Sorry, I just wanted you to myself for a bit. The other’s have been pretty greedy lately. It’s not fair.” Despite not being able to see him you could tell from his voice that Taehyung was pouting.

You scoffed at that behind his hand as he leaned in closer to inhale your scent, apparently spotting some of your new marks as you felt him stiffen and growl a bit. “I see some of the others have already gotten to you. Do you want me to mark you too? Tap my hand once for yes, twice for no.” You mulled it over before rolling your eyes inwardly and tapping his hand once. You’d accepted that this was just something they’d all need to do, otherwise whoever you left out would be upset and feel neglected.

You didn’t want to make any of them mad quite frankly, especially after Jimin’s little outburst earlier.

Taehyung giggled like a little kid at your agreeance, then flipped a switch and began purring in your ear, quickly causing a flood down under as he dirty talked you with that orgasm inducing voice of his.

“Well, that certainly was a quick response. If I didn’t know any better I’d say you liked being marked. Oh, wait. Of course I know better. I know every dirty thing you’re into like the back of my hand. Now, let’s make Jungkook really mad hm~? You’ll thank me later.”

Before you could react at all to his last words you were distracted by the featherlight touch of his lips on your neck, nearby Jimin’s. Gosh, they really liked to mark you there. You squirmed a little in his grip as his lips tickled your neck making him chuckle.

“Alright alright, I’ll be nice and not tease you today.”

He bit down gently, nibbling and lapping at the abused skin to soothe the burn he left behind until he was satisfied.

“I’ll put your shirt away for you!”

He chirped as he pulled you out of the jeans rack, ducking down to snatch it up before racing off just as quickly as he’d come. He was definitely an energetic one.

Someone grabbed your hand and you groaned in annoyance, turning to glare at the person who was dragging you away again, and found yourself unsurprised to see Jungkook as the culprit. Did these boys have shifts messing with you or what?

“Jungkook wait, we still have to-”

He shook his head, not even bothering to look back at you as he responded gruffly.

“Already paid for.”

He held up the bag in his free hand for emphasis, making you annoyed at his brusqueness,

“Well then where are you taking me? What about Taehyung and Jin?”

You could practically feel the way Jungkook rolled his eyes at you.

“They’re already inside. Now, are you coming or…?”

He abruptly released your hand and stopped in front of the Gucci store, raising an expectant eyebrow at you.

You rose one back, crossing your arms over your chest in defiance. You’d actually won an argument, like fucking Hell you were giving that up just because he brought you here.

“What do you think?”

He shrugged casually and placed his hands in his pockets.

“Fine. Wait out here then.”

“Fine.”

He turned to walk inside and stopped at the entrance, turning over his shoulder to shoot you a knowing smirk as he cooed at you, already knowing he’d won.

“I’ll just pick out your clothes for you. Hope you like crop tops and lingerie. I could’ve sworn I saw a Victoria’s Secret somewhere around here…”

He locked eyes with you and let his smirk turn into a full on grin as he practically saw the steam coming out of your ears. You knew the fucker’d make good on it too, just to get to you. You could see the determination in his eyes.

That little menace. You could strangle him.

You grumbled unintelligible curses under your breath as you shoved past him into the store, ignoring the joyful boyish laughter that fell from his lips as he trailed after you. You huffed as you stormed over to Jin and Taehyung, cheeks coloring as they shared a knowing smile and Jin handed Taehyung a 10$ bill.

“This is the deal!”

You would’ve continued but Jungkook beat you to it, ruffling your hair affectionately.

“That’s cute, but no. The deal is this. You pick out whatever you want to and if I find out you looked at a single price tag I’ll personally make sure you don’t cum for a week. From any of us.”

His voice was so bright and cheerful it took you a second to fully process what he’d said and once you did, you did a double take, looking at him in shock.

“You guys wouldn’t mess with me for a whole week? Really?”

Taehyung actually burst out laughing.

“Ahaha!! Hell no!! Oh my gosh sweetheart you’re seriously adorable…” He grinned widely at your surprised face.

Jin smiled gently, explaining for you.

“We’d still do as we liked...we just wouldn’t let you cum.”

Jungkook stepped forward to twirl a piece of your hair around his finger, a sweet smile on his lips as his eyes drilled into your soul.

“No matter what we did, or you for that matter, you wouldn’t be able to orgasm until we let you. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

You shivered at the thought, swallowing as you laughed nervously, meeting Jungkook’s intense gaze and realizing this was payback for your little comments and sass earlier as his iris’s twinkled with sadistic amusement.

Fucking asshole, now how did you respond!? You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction but that sounded downright torturous!!!

Jin and Taehyung both sensed your internal struggle thanks to their marks and while Taehyung started cracking up at your plight, trying and failing to hide it as a cough, Jin merely shrugged at you with a kind smile as if to say.

‘You made your bed now lie in it.’

Wonderful.

“I’m waiting little girl. What’s wrong, too scared to answer~?”

His grin was so wide you were sure his face would split.

What you wouldn’t give to slap that shit-eating grin right off his smug little mouth.

He cocked his head to the side looking very much like a predator as he observed your every movement.

You swallowed your fear and forced a scoff but he stepped into your personal space before any words you'd surely regret could escape you.

“Do you think I won't follow through?”

His voice was unlike any tone you'd heard before from him. It was quiet, gentle even, but underneath the surface there was a clear warning.

The only question was, did you listen to it?

You stared back at him for a moment, and Taehyung and Jin watched you with curiosity clear to see in their gazes to how exactly you would react to his challenge.

You bit your lip and softened your gaze, leaning up to pull him down to your level which he easily complied with, too intrigued by your out of character forwardness to reject you. Your lips brushed across the shell of his ear and you swallowed your nerves and smirked as you felt him shiver at the sensation.

“I know you won’t. You may act the part of the teaser, but you haven’t even made me orgasm yet.” You gulped, fighting the heat you felt trying to climb onto your cheeks.

‘Don’t blush, don’t blush, don’t blush…’

The whole effect would be ruined if you did and thankfully, for once, your body cooperated with you.

“Hoseok and Yoongi already did, and it was amazing…” Your smirk widened as your eyes flicked down to see his fists were clenched.

“And my first, too. Yoongi took my first kiss. You could be running out of time, who knows what other firsts I’ll lose while you’re busy being a cow-AH!” You squealed as Jungkook suddenly picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, cutting off your insult. You heard him call over his shoulder to Taehyung and Jin casually, though his voice was gruff.

“Bring some clothes for her to the changing rooms. Apparently, angel needs to be taught some fucking manners.”

You tried to pretend you weren’t affected but hearing such vulgar language from the youngest admittedly caught you off guard and sent a flood of arousal straight to your core.

You could practically imagine the smirk on his face as he carried you with ease to the back of the store where the changing rooms were. You couldn’t keep the blush off your face this time even if your life depended on as others turned to watch in either shock, amusement or a mixture of both. You tried to squirm free from his grip, punching his back for all the good it did you, yet somehow still not with your full force as you didn’t want to hurt him, no matter how improbable such a thing was.

“P-Put me down Jungkook, people are looking.”

Your voice was a venomous hiss, but quiet enough that those around you couldn’t hear. Jungkook was taking his sweet ass time, clearly relishing in your blatant discomfort. His voice was a playful coo as his hands were stealthily creeping their way further up your thighs the closer you got to the changing rooms.

“Oh? You didn’t seem to mind all of us watching you earlier. What changed~?”

“That was different and you know it.”

“Was it? It seemed similar enough to me.”

He walked into one of the stalls and set you down on the black leather couch, being sure to grab your wrists in one of his own to force you to stop trying to hit him with his superior strength.

He raised an eyebrow at you before he continued.

“You didn’t really know us at that point. Is it so different for strangers to see you get carried off? Most of them, especially the females, desired to be in your position in fact. You’ve got no reason to be embarrassed.”

He shrugged, nonchalant, even as his eyes darkened.

‘Besides, if it really bothered you so much you wouldn’t have talked back. Now? Now I have to punish you. I’ll show you who's a coward.”

His voice steadily grew deeper until it was nothing but a throaty growl, causing you to shiver as you watched the black cover his eyes.

You didn’t fight as you were pressed against the mirror, mind suddenly blank.

“Look at me.”

Instantly you did so, and you finally put together what he was doing. At the glimmers of genuine fear and worry in your eyes, Jungkook’s own softened for a moment, despite remaining their inky color. “...Relax. You know I won’t take it too far. Rules still apply.” He soothed, nose nuzzling affectionately into your neck as he mumbled the calming reminder.

This seemed to have a relaxing effect on you and you nodded, eyes still locked with his. He grinned then and you were surprised to find his teeth sharper than they typically were. At your surprised expression, Jungkook hummed.

“Have the others not used this on you yet?” He smirked, but it wasn’t amused this time. It was a cruel twitch of his lips. “Looks like I get to have some firsts after all~Why don't I show you something else?” He let his tongue flick across your ear grinning as you flinched violently on instinct at the near overwhelming sensation that hit you. Were you...more sensitive somehow? You didn’t remember it feeling this intense the last time he toyed with you.

You felt his grip tighten and couldn’t hold back your squeak as he gave a long, slow, lick from the bottom of your neck to your ear, his eyes piercing into your very soul as he did so. You whimpered at the torturous sensation, trying to squirm away as he began to nip playfully at your ear, sending sharp shocks of pleasure you couldn’t resist.

He’d just started and you could already feel yourself soaking through your panties. What did he do to you? Was it permanent? You shuddered at the thought, whether from delight, fear, or anticipation you didn’t know.

“Do you like it? I had a feeling the others hadn’t tried this yet. They were probably too scared of overwhelming you, but not me.”

His eyes were dark, his voice cool.

“I probably would’ve waited but you just had to keep provoking me today…”

He sighed in mock disappointment even though you both knew he had been wanting to do this since your very first defiance earlier. His mouth left your ear as he began to trail hot kisses down the length of your throat, sucking particularly hard at the area where your shoulder met your neck until your knees were starting to turn into jelly.

His eyes suddenly narrowed in annoyance as he caught sight of first Namjoon’s mark and then Taehyung's.

“...Who else has marked you?”

His voice was that same dangerous yet gentle tone from earlier and you shivered, mouth going dry as you recalled Taehyung’s words.

Your hesitance was the only encouragement he needed as he went to pull off your shirt.

Your eyes suddenly widened as you tried to stop him, hands flying to his as you recalled what else lurked underneath in addition to the boys’ marks.

“Wait! Jungkook, no!”

But he’d already seen and if his horrified expression was anything to go by he knew exactly what had caused that bruise. He stumbled back in surprise, eyes wide from shock and you took the opportunity to pull your shirt down to hide it once more, eyes pained.

“Jungkook-”

“Tell me it wasn’t from that man. Tell me it wasn’t from you protecting me.”

He was growing more panicked; you could tell from his ever-increasing breathing and the erratic tone of his voice.

You bit your lip, worried as you’d never seen him like this. He didn’t seem like the type of person to lose himself over a simple injury.

“It doesn’t even really hurt anymore!! It’s not a big deal Jungkook, please calm down…” You took a tentative step towards him and he lunged, making you yelp in surprise as he locked his arm firmly around your neck, though gently enough to not cut off your air supply. His eyes were apologetic as he caught your gaze in the mirror, but they now gained a determined glint as he saw you staring at him.

“...I’ll make you better.”

He mumbled and then bit his wrist, the still sharpened teeth easily cutting through his own skin.

You watched in a mix of worry and apprehension, getting panicked enough that you tried to call for Taehyung and Jin. “Seokjin!! Tae-” Jungkook cut you off by trying to bring his wrist; now flowing with black blood; to your lips though you ducked just as Taehyung flew in and unwound Jungkook’s arm from your neck before wrestling the male away from you even as the younger fought tooth and nail to get to you, starting to get loud enough that staff was surely going to notice.

“I need to heal her damn it!! Taehyung you don’t understand!! She’s hurt because of me, just let me-” You stared in shock as the boy you’d thought you knew so well absolutely crumbled, barely catching a glimpse of Seokjin’s cold expression before he slapped Jungkook hard enough that the sound echoed, causing the boy to finally go quiet as he hid his own expression behind his hair.

“...Get him out of here Taehyung. Now. Bring him to Namjoon.”

“But hyung-”

“I won’t ask again.”

Taehyung lowered his head in defeat but nodded and helped Jungkook straighten fully and guided his friend out.

Jin turned to look at your shocked form but you shook your head to get your bearings before glaring at him. “You didn’t have to hit him like that! Why didn’t you just try talking to him!?”

Jin merely raised an eyebrow at you and you suddenly realized he too was acting like a completely different person than the one you thought you’d known. Clearly, you really didn’t know any of them at all...just the masks they wanted you to see.

“Talking wouldn’t have worked. You tried and we saw how well that worked. Now, care to tell me what caused him to lose himself like that?”

You hesitated but nodded. “Before I met the rest of you, you know I stood up for Jungkook.” He nodded at you to continue and you took a deep breath before raising your shirt enough for him to see the bruise. “Well, I pushed him behind me when he provoked a bigot and I ended up getting punched in the stomach, leading to me getting this bruise. Jungkook saw it when he tried to look at the other marks and then bit his wrist and tried to...to force-feed me his blood I think.”

Jin’s eyes lit up in understanding and he sighed heavily, running his hand through his hair as he looked away in thought. “Of course. That explains it. Namjoon’s not gonna be happy.”

“Jin? What did he mean by making me better? Does demonic blood have healing properties or something? I saw his blood was black…”

His eyes cut to you, before a small smirk twitched at the corner of his lips, eyes taking on a dark, hard edge you’d never expect to see from him with his typically playful, gentle disposition.

“Why do you ask? Did you want him to go through with it? Are you actually just like every other Human after all~?” He cocked his head to the side, examining your expression as it began to cloud over with fear and you tried to step away from him. He grabbed your face none too gently easily holding you still as he forced you to meet his intense gaze. “...Why are you frightened princess? You knew what you were getting into when you agreed to stay with us. Now be a good girl and try this on.”

He released your chin and shoved a hanger into your arms.

You tossed it aside onto the nearby couch as your eyes filled with tears, shoving at the tall man’s chest as he looked down at you impassively, not moving an inch.

“Who the fuck do you think you are to treat me like this!? Of course I didn’t want him to go through with it, why else do you think I called you for help?! And I didn’t know what I was getting into! How could I!? I’ve only just wrapped my head around the fact that demons exist in our fucking society, let alone what all of you people are capable of!! If this is how you actually feel I will happily move out and find somewhere else to go, I don’t need your fucking pity!!!”

Seokjin stared at you for a few more seconds before he softened and forced you into a tight hug as you continued spitting curses his way and crying.

“Sorry...one of us needed to test you, and I figured it better be me rather than any of the others. Let me explain, and then if you want to punch me in the face before leaving for good you’re more than welcome?” He offered, pulling back and releasing you.

You eyed him warily, clearly weighing his offer as you were still upset and nodded with a huff, sitting down on the couch as you rubbed your tears away. “Fine. Make it quick.”

He nodded, beaming at your acceptance.

“Humans tend to search us demons down just for an opportunity like what Jungkook offered. You’re right. Our blood does have healing properties like you correctly assumed, but in addition to that, if a demon shares his blood with a Human they have an inseparable bond. You think the marks we have on you now are powerful? A bond created that way is so intense that if the Human’s life is in danger, the demon will sacrifice himself without conscious thought. This is true even if the bond is created unwillingly.”

You made a sound of disgust.

“That's horrible. So...why did you need to be such a massive douche for?”

He smiled fondly at your blunt words.

“...You’re not the type to lash out. I needed to be genuinely cruel to make you stand up for yourself so I did what I had to. I am sorry that it hurt you, but the safety of my family comes first. I hope you understand and please know that it was only out of necessity. You proved yourself though. Even that you called us people, despite being filled with rage is a huge deal, not to mention you didn’t threaten us once, only that you’d remove yourself.”

You shrugged, as if it didn’t even cross your mind, which it didn’t. “I get that you did it to test me, to make sure I wasn’t just trying to hurt you guys...but that means you trust me now right? I don’t want to go through that again.”

He nodded, smiling a bit.

“Yeah, you passed with flying colors, I have 0 doubt in you. I trust you’re loyal.”

You nodded then, and finally asked the questions you’d been dying to. “I get why the bond could be bad, but there seemed to be another reason you were mad at Jungkook. If it was just me you were suspicious of I don’t think you would’ve snapped at him like you did. I want to know what the Hell’s up with this Void’s place and the Mark you all mentioned earlier too.”

Jin raised an eyebrow in surprise and hummed in approval.

“Cunning girl aren’t you? Fair enough, since we trust you fully now. Having that kind of bond with a Human is despised and viewed as one of demonkind's greatest taboos.”

Your eyes widened.

“What? Then why on Earth would he ever try to do that with me? Especially over a bruise?!”

Jin frowned and looked away, eyes clouding over as he recalled something.

“Jungkook has...past experience with Humankind. There was a boy he could not save and he hasn’t forgiven himself to this day. It haunts him, and he’s over paranoid of losing another Mortal that way ever again.”

He shook his head clearly trying to brush the topic and bad memories away.

“As for the Mark...it’s not my place. It’s something we’ll all tell you as a group when we’re ready. It’s got nothing to do with you not comprehending it, it’s just an intimate ordeal that we all need to talk about and be sure we’re ready for it ourselves before we let you in on it. And Void’s...well, it’s a demon club, and that’s what the outfit I gave you is for.”

You suddenly remembered it, turning to look at the garment you’d angrily flung away and flushing at its design.

The dress he'd thrown your way was edgy and daring. Black leather; form-fitting. It was strapless, the cups over your breasts were pleated in the center v. but the outer half of the cups looked almost like the finest kingsmail. Around your stomach and hips, the leather was soft and smooth. A rectangle portion to give you some modesty because the skirt of the short form-fitting number was nothing but black lace.

“I cannot wear that, are you crazy!?”

Taehyung chuckled as he re-entered, apparently having done as Jin asked.

“Sorry sweetheart, but unless you want to be demon chow you’re going to need to blend in. They’re going to have trouble taking you seriously as it is you’re going to need all the help you can get and this is the first step of that.”

You sombered at Taehyung’s entrance, worry flickering in your gaze.

“Is he alright?”

Taehyung nodded, rubbing the back of his neck.

“He’s...better. Namjoon calmed him down. He still feels horrible though, he’s sorry he all but forced you into something you had no idea about. Namjoon was livid, and so were the others, even if we all understood why he did what he did.”

You nodded, heart unclenching at his reassurance. That was good at least. He was with others who understood him better than you ever could. They knew how best to deal with him. You turned your attention back to the dress, if it could even be called that, holding it up.

“I get the reasoning, it’s just...not me, you know?”

Jin smiled reassuringly. “You’ll learn to play the part, and we’ll be with you every step of the way. Try not to worry too much...it’s just a precaution should we get separated, or someone whisks you away.”

Taehyung gave you pleading eyes that had you melting almost instantly, even without the power of suggestion. “Please? At least try it on?”

You mulled it over, and finally grumbled and nodded, gently shoving them out.

“Fine fine, go. I’ll be out in a second.”

It took you a bit longer than you’d care to admit to maneuver your way into the death trap of a dress but you finally managed after much muttered cursing and pouting.

You looked at yourself for a moment and almost gasped.

Was that really you?

You looked and felt so different it was almost like magic. It made you feel sexy and confident in your body. Just as a smile was twitching at your lips Taehyung’s smug voice by the door made you blush.

“So, you like it after all?”

You force a scoff even as you take a look at yourself in the mirror again and straighten your shoulders.

“I mean...it’s more than I’ve shown ever and it admittedly would make me feel super exposed and vulnerable if I was with anyone but you and the others but right here, right now it makes me feel...confident, in my body and how I look and that's something I don’t feel very often.” You admitted, voice honest and contemplative.

“...You guys need to promise to not leave my side when we go to this place, okay?”

You turned to look at them and were surprised to be greeted by Taehyung hugging you making you laugh.

“I’m alright, you know, it’s not like I’m crying or anything Tae.” You mumbled but accepted the affection nonetheless, squeezing him as you hugged him back. You felt him mumble into your hair. “Maybe not. But we could feel the pure elation that came from you when you saw your reflection...and it makes me so inexplicably happy that you could see how fucking gorgeous you are, if only for a moment.”

Tears blurred your vision for a second before you gave a watery laugh as he pulled away.

“Don’t you dare make me cry again guys, I’ve done that way too much today.” You mumbled, brushing away your tears before they fell. Jeez, were you always this emotional?

Jin smiled at you and chuckled in amusement. “I often forget how easily Mortals are brought to tears. It’s endearing...not something you should be ashamed of. But as you wish...get changed into your other clothes, we already retrieved other outfits for you that suit your taste. Jungkook was just teasing you, we’d never make you wear something you genuinely didn’t want to, unless it was absolutely necessary for your safety, like with Void’s. I did take the liberty to pick out a few outfits here so you can at least try them though. You might be surprised.”

Your heart warmed and you did as Jin suggested, getting dressed and carrying the dress out with you. You’d seen a whole different side to these 3 today and honestly, it made you feel really good that they trusted you with their genuine selves. You definitely had made the right choice.

20 minutes or so later, Jin, Taehyung and you were leaving the mall with Auntie Anne’s in your hands for you and the others at your insistence.

“You’ve never tried Auntie Anne’s!? That’s it, come on we’re having pretzels for dinner!”

Taehyung had been overjoyed and Jin rolled his eyes but perked up when he realized they also sold cooking kits for them, which he, of course, picked up. You were all quite content after all the chaos that ensued earlier all things considered...until you caught the loud conspiratory whispers of 2 friends passing by you.

“Is that her? The girl from the video?”

“It has to be! Look! She’s even still hanging around them! As if she could ever measure up to their level.”

You felt yourself starting to wither but tried to remain strong nonetheless, and marched over to them, using your confidence from earlier as you held your head high.

“If you have something to ask, why don’t you just ask it to my face instead of gossiping like a bunch of obnoxious teenagers?”

They looked so extraordinarily offended that you almost laughed though they quickly shook themselves off like ducks and huffed, crossing their arms across their chests.

“There’s nothing to ask! You’re just selfish, keeping all those incubus to yourself!!” One whined and you saw the other tapping at her phone before raising it to your face. There you were alright, protecting Jungkook. Apparently, someone had taken the liberty to film the whole ordeal and it must’ve spread if these girls deemed you important enough to talk about. Wonderful.

Now you did actually laugh though.

“First off...it’s incubi. At least learn the proper plural before you try to fetishize them.”

You giggled, attempting to turn on your heel and walk away before one of the girls, the quiet one grabbed your wrist.

“Hey, we’re not done talking!”

You turned to smile at her over your shoulder and tugged your wrist free.

“You may not be, but I am. Quite frankly our relationship isn’t any of your fucking business and now that I know that you think of my friends as nothing more than sex toys to get you horny you can fuck right off.” You gave them the finger as you trailed back over to Taehyung and Jin, surprised to see the other 5 now with them as well.

You laughed as Hoseok ruffled your hair playfully.

“Where’d all that fire come from? You tore those girls apart!”

You shoved his hand away gently and shrugged like it was nothing despite you beaming with pride for yourself, the praise only making you shine that much brighter.

“Seriously! I’ve never seen you go off like that! You did great!” Jimin assured, slinging a comfortable arm around your shoulder that led to you cuddling up to him further like a cat.

Yoongi flicked his hair out of his eyes as you all began making your way to the exit. “Good thing you pulled away when you did, I was about to physically remove them myself. Still, I hope this doesn’t have negative repercussions on you.”

You huffed. “Even if it does those people are idiots anyway. I’m not worried. My job won’t be affected, that’s all I care about.”

You looked around and noticed abruptly two of the boys were missing.

“...Where’s Namjoon and Jungkook? Is everything okay?” Your voice was gentle, concern clear in your tone and Jimin held you closer subconsciously.

“He’s just fine babygirl try not to worry. Namjoon took him home so he could unwind after his breakdown.”

Hoseok mumbled, his hand running through your hair in a subconscious effort to soothe you.

“Speaking of, we should probably start heading home as well. Don't want the food to get cold.”

The ride home was peaceful as was the meal that followed. Namjoon was as amiable as ever, but Jungkook was so quiet when you entered you actually marched to his room after acquiring its location from Yoongi as soon as you were done eating, a bag in your hands for him since he'd run off once he'd locked eyes with you. You knocked tentatively.

“Jungkook?”

There was no answer for a long moment so you knocked again, a bit more confidently this time. “Jungkook! I know you can hear me. Even if you don't want to talk to me please at least eat. I'm worried about you.”

You waited a few more seconds and just as you were about to give up the door opened up and there stood Jungkook, a tired smile on his face as he observed you quietly for a long moment.

“...You do know how absolutely stupid the idea of a demon being unhealthy without food is right?”

His voice was pained, despite the words themselves being light enough and you frowned. “I didn't think about it honestly. Even so, Jin said you adapt to your environment… why shouldn't I think that food would be included in that?”

Jungkook merely snorted, and looked away from you to the floor, leaning against the doorjamb.

You sighed and bit your lip, gently placing the bag of food down on the floor before you continued.

“Jungkook…listen. I'm not mad at you, or scared for that matter. Jin told me you did it because you thought it would protect me. I'm really okay though. It's just a tiny bruise-”

He cut you off, voice quiet but sure. “A bruise you got trying to shield me.”

His eyes were filled with fire suddenly as he hissed at you and stepped forward, cornering you against the wall beyond his door. “If I want a stupid Human's help next time I'll ask for it. Don't intervene unless I ask it of you ever again. Got it?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, observing his expression for a moment before you smiled, voice gentle as you answered.

“... You done trying to scare me away now? Caring about people doesn't work that way dumbass, and you just pulled your stunt for the same reason so don't even try and deny it. Please, let's just agree to protect each other from now on, okay? No self-sacrifices needed. This isn't some teenage tragedy.”

Jungkook looked taken aback at your words but eventually laughed and nodded, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck before he grinned at you, backing away a few paces to give you some space. “Sounds perfect to me. No teenage drama bullshit here. No more self- sacrificing. It's a promise.”

He held out his pinky then and you wrapped yours around his under the vow, both of you feeling a lot lighter and clueless to the other 6 eavesdropping demons who shared genuine smiles at your promise.

In the two weeks since you'd been living with the boys you'd realized it wasn't just Jin, Taehyung, and Jungkook with hidden sides to them. They all had little secret gardens inside themselves, each following their own test for entry, which emphasized their individuality. You were thankful they were even letting you in to begin with though so you couldn't complain, especially when the reward was so worth it.

Seeing who the boys truly were had led to a deeper understanding between the 8 of you and the marks they'd placed on you only further helped them to understand.

Now that you better understood all of them, and they you, your relationship was much more amicable and even playful rather than the stone cold dominance they'd greeted you with at first. You accepted that they needed to feed sometimes but at least they didn't do it in public nearly as often as at the start and made sure you wanted it just as badly. They still had their moments of course; they weren't saints and it really hadn't been that long all things considered but it was enough and you were content.

To say that work was hard was an understatement. Now that the video of you protecting Jungkook was going viral, demon hating customers were recognizing you and making your life Hell while ironically enough, all your demon customers were going out of their way to stand up for you, and just generally making your life better. Thankfully, your managers were all for serving demonkind, and only 2 of your co-workers were against them. The rest were all very supportive, and even praised you for your actions. The issue was that you were working with one of them today and he was needling you about it at every opportunity, and since a highly anticipated movie was now out, this was just really not the day.

You were barely looking up at guests as they ordered, too focused on ringing them up, and getting them their orders as fast as possible. God, where were those new hires Nick had said were coming in? They were already 10 minutes late.

“We’ve got a large order, it’s for 5 of us.”

You nodded, the bright smile on your face not faltering as you put your acting skills to good use.

“That’s no problem, sir, what can I get for you?”

He stayed silent as you looked over the buttons at the register, and you finally looked up in exasperation only for your eyes to widen in surprise.

“...Taehyung? What are you doing here? How did you even find out where I worked!?”

He smirked at your surprise, shrugging “Your shirt says it, it wasn’t hard to find with a quick search. Plus, we were bored and figured we may as well see a movie.”

A quick glance at the other 4 behind him made you raise an eyebrow.

“...Okay. Without Jimin and Namjoon?

Your voice was a quiet grumble as you forced a smile at the waiting guests behind him.

“Forget it, I don’t have the time. What do you guys want?”

Seokjin stepped forward and took over. Apparently, they were starving because they got a crap ton of food.

Of course, the only person who was with you to prepare food was your douchey coworker Kohl who immediately grumbled as he caught sight of Jungkook.

“Ugh, isn't that the monster you saved? What's it want? We shouldn't even have to cook for those things. I'll just burn their stuff.” He snickered, as if he said something funny. “Maybe it'll remind them of home.” You scoffed and muttered under your breath. “I'm not gonna let you burn my friend's food just because you feel like being bigoted. Move. I'll do it myself.” He made a show of holding his hands up in surrender as if you were the one being unreasonable before walking over to the register and taking the next guests.

You began cooking the food, doing the best you could but even you had to admit it was getting overwhelming. You were struggling with closing a particularly stubborn flatbread box when a hand filled your vision and gracefully closed it up. You turned to thank them only for your eyes to widen in surprise at the sight of Jimin smiling down at you, Namjoon just behind him, already taking care of the food before it burned. It wasn't seeing them that surprised you though.

It was the fact that they were wearing your work uniform.

“You have got to be kidding me. Why the Hell did you apply here?”

The pout on your face was cute enough to Jimin to make him giggle as he patted your head, careful to not mess up your ponytail.

“Well, we figured you could use the company and if it means we get to see movies for free that's just a bonus!’ He chirped.

You rolled your eyes but your smile was obvious enough that Jimin poked your cheek teasingly.

You turned to finish up the food only to see Namjoon already done and waiting for you. He raised an expectant eyebrow as you took a few of the cardboard containers.

“Thank you Namjoon. Now let's give this to them and-”

“More demons? God, you're such a thirsty whore aren't you?’

You instinctively put your free hand out to stop the two boys from lunging, as he taunted them by insulting you and them both and also saying God's name. You glared at Kohl.

“Watch it. I'm the only thing stopping them from making you wish you kept that stupid mouth of yours shut. Not another word or I'll report your ass to management. You know Nick's policy on discrimination in the workplace, don't you?”

You smirked as he stiffened and easily brushed past him with the food, Namjoon, and Jimin following suit as you reached the register and pushed their food forward. You could tell the demons in the line had overheard, some looking saddened on your behalf but the majority looking annoyed. The 5 incubi you'd grown so close to in particular looked especially peeved.

“It's okay. Go enjoy your movie guys. I'm used to his idiocy.”

A demon behind them in line-an ifrit if her red skin was anything to go by-patted Taehyung's shoulder. “You've found a good Human brother. Keep her close, or someone just might just steal her out from under you~” She teased, sending a wink your way before Namjoon stepped up beside you as he pushed the rest of the other’s’ food towards them, nodding at the ifrit as they locked eyes, seeming to share a wordless communication before Namjoon spoke up.

“...We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”

The boys eventually left to go enjoy their movie even though Jungkook was all but dragged inside by the others. With Jimin and Namjoon's help, you managed to get through the line, thankfully without any more issues with Kohl.

In fact, it seemed he'd disappeared entirely, not that you were complaining. “I'm surprised you guys fared so well. That was quite the rush of people. Good job.” You praised the two as you tidied up the backbar area where the food was made.

Jimin shrugged. “That was nothing. Our old jobs saw rushes way more intense than that. But thanks cutie. Here.” Jimin handed you the dishes he'd cleaned while you were doing backbar and you nodded in thanks, putting them in their proper places.

You wanted to ask, but you knew better than that They were here now and that was all that mattered. They didn't like talking about the past.

You gave a hum of approval as you took a quick look around but narrowed your eyes as you caught sight of Kohl returning.

“You just took your break without telling us during a rush like that? What the Hell Kohl?”

He shrugged.

“You seemed to manage just fine with your little friends, you didn't need me here. Anyway, Nick said you or your boys could go on your break. Just 2 of you though.”

You rolled your eyes.

“First off, they're not “my boys”. They're my friends, just talk about them normally. Heck, just talk to them yourself. I get you're scared of them but you don't need me to play mediator.”

He puffed up at your casual words.

“What!? I'm not scared of them!”

Namjoon snickered.

“Oh really? That why you haven't made direct eye contact with either of us and ran away once you pissed us off?”

Kohl's face was starting to turn red and you placed a hand on Namjoon's arm, holding back a giggle of your own. “Alright, alright, enough. I don't want to provoke him too much. You two go on break.”

Jimin immediately shook his head at that. “Like Hell I'm leaving you here with him!” You sighed at his expected possessive response. “Jimin, I'll be fine. I'd rather your two go together. I've dealt with him on my own for months now. Go. Please. It's only 30 minutes.”

He seemed hesitant but he eventually nodded and went to clock off making you turn your attention to Namjoon who was already raising an expectant eyebrow at you.

“Go, clock off, don't worry you know I can handle my temper better than the others.”

That made you smirk at him.

“You mean you can hide it better. Please Namjoon, just go. I'm tired as fuck and I really don't want to fight you on this today.”

You admitted.

He observed you for a moment before he nibbled at his lower lip, spearing Kohl with a venomous glare and smiling at him as he slowly made his way past you to clock out.

“... Try anything. Say anything to hurt her and you won't like the consequences you little brat.”

Kohl scoffed but he suddenly paled and when you turned to look at Namjoon you were greeted by the black fading from his eyes.

You held back your smile and tried to be stern.

“Joon. Play nice. You might get scheduled alone with him for a shift sometime.”

He chuckled and looked over his shoulder to smirk one last time at Kohl, malice clear in his eyes.

“Oh, I sincerely hope so.”

You rolled your eyes and huffed, shoving him the rest of the way out and pointing towards where he could clock out.

“Alright alright, enough threats smartass go clock out.”

His smirk turned to you and your stomach flipped as you swallowed, despite yourself. He cornered you against the counter, voice a suggestive purr.

“Look at you trying to boss me around~ I vividly remember a very different tone coming out of your mouth last night.”

You growled, looking around to make sure no-one was watching and save for Kohl glaring at you with disgust before turning away no guests or other co-workers were around thankfully.

“Namjoon so help me-”

You stiffened as his lips caressed the column of your throat, shivering. You felt his lips curl into a smile at your reaction.

“Namjoon, I mean it. Stop.”

The moment the word left your lips he pulled back, eyes searching yours but you were looking at Kohl, clearly uncomfortable. Namjoon growled.

“Don’t you have a guest to tend to kid?”

Kohl smirked then, clearly pleased he’d gotten under Namjoon’s skin. He leaned against the nearby counter where the food was made and smirked, meeting Namjoon’s gaze with a clear challenge in his irises.

“Nah, I’m quite enjoying the show. So this is what you incubi freaks do huh? Work up some girl while she’s at work? Wow. No wonder you’re sought out so much.”

Namjoon was clearly getting annoyed, you could tell from the way he smiled; it was clearly strained, and the way his dimples showed were from him gritting his teeth.

“...I’m going before I strangle this kid. If I feel anything from the mark, nothing is gonna save him.”

You laughed quietly as he stomped off, clearly aggravated, and turned your attention to the guests as a few began coming in for the next movie. Despite Kohl’s overall assholery, he was a good worker and you finished quickly.

The rest of the day went well, save for his little spat with Namjoon. Luckily he was scheduled to go home right before Jimin came back from break so when he did it was just you. Namjoon would be in a bit later since he just had to mess with you a bit before clocking off.

He’d definitely solidified for you that doms could just as easily be brats as subs, along with Jungkook.

Once you were all together again and it quieted down a bit, Namjoon decided to tease you by updating Jimin on your embarrassing display earlier while you cleaned up from the earlier rush.

“She just about melted. If it wasn’t for that fucking Kohl kid, I definitely would’ve been able to get her to clock off with us.”

Leave it to Namjoon to have an ulterior motive for acting up. You could only roll your eyes.

“I did not melt, you’re exaggerating! You can’t pull shit like that while I’m working, both of you. You’re lucky there wasn’t anybody around but they do have cameras you know?”

“Hence why I was trying to get you to go on break with us!”

You laughed in disbelief.

“You’re impossible. Can’t you go 9 hours without messing with me? Sounds to me like the other 5 just have more control than-”

You inhaled sharply, cutting yourself off as you grasped the counter in surprise at the sudden spike of pleasure that hit your core. You looked around and actually jumped a bit at the unexpected feeling of a finger teasing your core despite nothing being there.

You cursed, marching over to the two incubi now grinning knowingly at you and hissed at them.

“I take it back. Make him stop. Now.”

Another ability they’d introduced you to over these two weeks? Apparently, they could make you feel like they were touching you when they weren’t even fucking there. Only 2 of them could since it was apparently just an inherent ability. Taehyung had been merciless since he’d first used it on you and made you squeal aloud before you could stop yourself, but Hoseok had used it more sparingly since he liked seeing you come undone somewhere he could watch. Taehyung was content enough to feel it through the bond, but with his hearing, you had no doubt he was listening to you starting to come undone. Their powers of illusion were strong though, and Taehyung had tricked you before that he was actually there.

It was a little too easy to overwhelm you thanks to your sensitivity and he took full advantage of it, often using all of your senses to make you come apart.

You bit your lip to hold back a squeak as you felt his long fingers teasing your core with even gentler strokes, making you squirm for more contact that wouldn’t come unless he wanted you to experience it. His other hand joined in, making its way across your torso slowly. You looked to Namjoon and Jimin for help but Namjoon was making food in the back already and Jimin was taking guests orders. The line was piling up which meant you had to help him take orders or you were going to get overwhelmed and your coworkers would have to be called in to help which was the last thing you wanted. You gulped as you forced a shaky smile on your face even though you could feel yourself building to a release under Taehyung’s gifted fingertips.

The first few guests were semi-bearable but then, of course, he just had to make it worse on your last guest.

“What would you like today miss?”

“Aww look at what a mess you’re becoming. Who’s my good little whore hm? So wet for me already…”

You shivered as his husky voice mumbled into your ear, making your voice falter as you coughed before forcing a smile the guest's way.

“I’ll get ri-ahem. Right on that for you ma’am, just a moment.”

Jimin’s eyes flicked your way, a knowing grin twitching at his lips as he watched you rise to your tiptoes to grab a bottle of water for the woman only to violently pull back down in your haste as you felt Taehyung’s hands grip your ass. Of course, the water bottle fell thanks to your actions, but Jimin was graceful enough to catch it and place it on your counter after shooting a wink your way. Smug bastard.

“Nothing to say? You should answer when I talk to you cutie, I’d hate to make this even worse for you.”

Taehyung’s voice went from playful to demanding in seconds and your bottom half was starting to squirm where guests couldn't see as you were obviously starting to grow desperate. You clenched your fists as you saw Taehyung waltz over from around the corner as you got the woman’s popcorn, starting to rush as you knew what was coming.

You felt his body press into yours, could smell his intoxicating cologne as you shakily pushed the popcorn towards the woman. “Here you are!” You said brightly, trying not to completely fall apart as you felt Taehyung nuzzle your neck, starting to plant kisses along the length of it. You rang her up, fumbling to give her accurate change as you felt Taehyung’s lips move from your neck to your shoulder, your collarbone, your thigh.

“Have a n-nice day!” You gritted out, waving until she was out of sight.

The second she was you ducked out of sight of the guests by the popcorn popper, Taehyung following easily as you tried to keep control of yourself.

He growled in your ear then making you release a half-sigh, half-whimper at the sound.

“What a pretty picture you make like this. Absolutely crumbling under my touch, the sound of my voice...you’re such a bad girl, keeping your sounds to yourself. I’ll have to punish you later.”

“Please…”

Your voice was a shaky whisper, clearly scared of anyone overhearing.

“Please what? Hm? Use your words or I’ll do whatever I fucking want to you.”

You whispered breathlessly.

“Oh Hell please...please just let up. You’re driving me crazy and if anyone saw-”

“They’d see what a filthy little slut you are for your master wouldn’t they?”

He cut you off, a cruel smirk spreading across his face as you clenched your thighs at the degrading words dripping from his lips.

“Beg. Beg me to have mercy on you even though a horny bitch like you doesn’t deserve it.”

Immediately mumbled pleads came from your lips.

“Master please, please I’m so desperate! I can’t take this while at work, please have pity on me!”

You looked down in shame at your quiet muttering but Taehyung forced you to raise your chin with a firm hand and smirked as you met his gaze, causing chills to go through you.

“...Very well. I’ll show mercy this time, since you behaved. But you’re in for the punishment of a lifetime once we’re home. Not responding when I ask you questions. Not giving me your reactions.”

“But I was work-”

“And now trying to talk back? You’re in for a very long night beautiful. A very long night.”

You whimpered but nodded, lowering your head briefly in submission as Taehyung released your chin, and therefore missing the transfer that happened as the real Taehyung slid into the place of his illusion.

“Good girl. Now come with me to say goodbye to the others. After you finish your shift you’re coming right home so we can deal with you properly.”

Hearing Taehyung say “we” was almost enough to make you whine all over again. It was always worse when it was more than just one of them. You trailed after him and blushed as you suddenly realized the others no doubt heard the mess Taehyung had made of you, not just Namjoon and Jimin.

You waved shyly at them, but Hoseok instead pulled you into a hug making you laugh as you relaxed in his hold and hugged him back. He was always good at snapping you out of your submissive state after a session like that. You went down the line hugging the others but Jungkook wore a scowl when you went to hug him making you frown in confusion. He spat out his words with irritation clear in his tone.

“Where’s that Kohl asshole? Is he still here?”

You shook your head, trying to hold back your fond smile at his angry tone lest you make him more annoyed.

“He went home for the day earlier. Sorry, Kook. Don’t worry. Namjoon scared him earlier.”

He scoffed.

“Not good enough. Maybe I should get a job here too…”

“Jungkook, you’re too possessive. I can handle myself around Kohl, it’s you guys he doesn't like. You, most of all. I could care less what he thinks of me, I know I’m not a whore and so do you guys, no matter what he thinks and that’s what matters to me.”

You looked up at the feeling of someone petting your hair and smiled at Jin as Taehyung hugged you from behind, gently.

Jungkook grinned and you realized you’d made a mistake when he nodded. “Yup. I’m definitely working here. I can’t wait to drive that kid batty. It’s gonna be great.”

You could only sigh.

It wasn’t until later that something you deemed insignificant was not so at all, at least to the others as they sat you down that night, once you’d taken a shower and eaten dinner.

“We’ve all talked it over, and we’ve decided it’s time to take you to Void’s.”

You raised an eyebrow at that.

“The demon club, right? I don’t mind but can I ask why? You’ve only mentioned it in passing before, why the sudden need to go now?”

Jimin stepped forward, an uncharacteristically serious expression overtaking his face.

“That Ifrit who told us to keep you close was actually a friend of ours. We’ve known her for several centuries. She was warning us that other demons that were there today were targeting you by joking about keeping you safe.”

Yoongi nodded in agreement.

“We need to make it known to the rest of demonkind that you belong to us. But before we do that, we’re going to need to give you the Mark.”

You suddenly felt a bit nervous.

“Is...Is it going to hurt? How does it work?”

Jin smiled gently, though his posture was stiff.

“You’ll be perfectly fine. There will be a bit of pain at first, but no more than what you’ve already experienced with us. There will be a different kind of pain after we have the basic outline done but we’ll warn you before it happens.”

“Do you trust us?”

This question came from Namjoon and you nodded immediately.

“Of course I do.”

He nodded.

“...You’ll be sharing a part of your soul with us, and we’ll be doing the same with you. A Mark is permanent and you’ll wear it for the rest of your days. It’s not as absolute as a blood bond but it’s damn close, and a lot stronger than the baby marks we’ve been littering your body with. You’re sure you’re prepared for this? There’s no going back once we’ve started.”

You nodded without hesitation.

“I’ve grown to see different sides of you all over these two weeks. To see who you truly are and come to care about each and every one of you in different ways. If you think this is necessary to keep me safe...then I say let’s do it. I have total faith in you guys.”

Jin turned to the others and nodded at all of them, you included.

“...Very well. We’ll do it tomorrow. Prepare yourself accordingly everyone. Let’s get some sleep.”

A/N: There we are!! I’d love to hear your thoughts as always on the chapter and I hope you guys are as excited for the following chapter as I am! I can’t wait to continue on this journey with you all!

I’ll be making a separate post about this probably tomorrow but please for character asks, I’m going to ask you send in specific questions, for one boy at a time, since I think I’ve diversified my characters enough at this point for that to be possible.

Character reactions will also be a thing but they'll be separate and I’ll be switching to a hyung line, maknae line system for all future requests.

For now, character asks are open, but character reactions are closed as I finish working on the ones I currently have! Love you guys and I hope the wait was worth it! <3 -Sheridan

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glgaming145 · 3 years

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skvaderarts · 4 years

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Apocrypha Chapter Thirty: Interloper

Masterlist can be found Here! Thanks!

Chapter Thirty: Interloper

Note: Thanks for all the amazing feedback, everyone! This has been a super stressful week. I just built my first pc, and I have to take it to Geeksquad today (10/26) to have them test it for a power issue that causes my system to randomly shut down without notice. I’m not scared to death at all! Nope! Hahahahahaha! *Cries*.

(-~-)

Light shined through thick cracks in the roof of the cavern as excess moisture dripped from above, colliding with the ground below. The area didn’t look entirely dissimilar to that of the underworld, thick layers of luminescent stone coating multiple surfaces around the conduit, and a similar stone forming the monument itself, albeit without the otherworldly glow. The black sludge remained, but no longer seemed to bubble and boil as it once had. How a cold fluid could seemingly boil was beyond Dante, but then again, the many fascinating facets of the underworld were more his brother’s thing.

“Think of it as a kind of scab, the tear itself being an open wound that never heals.” Trish said as she watched Dante examine the area immediately around the conduit, the youngest of Sparda’s twin sons clearly trying to comprehend the cult’s goals in this place.” And try not to spend too long in that sludge. I’ve heard that it can have strange effects on those who spend extended amounts of time near it.”

Dante perked up slightly at her statement, formerly lost in thought. “Do you think that it’s going to affect V? He was soaked in this stuff, and he wasn’t exactly in one piece when we found him.”

As her face migrated towards her hands, she shrugged, not so much aloof as she was indecisive. “I can’t really say. There are very few conduits, so this fluid is very uncommon. It might be worth bringing some back for Magnolia to study, but I’m not sure she could come up with much. She’s a botanist after all, and this isn’t exactly a plant.”

He responded with a nod, agreeing with her sentiment. Trish was correct, Magnolia wasn’t that kind of scientist. But perhaps she knew someone that could help them identify the core components of the otherworldly substance. It was best to have some sort of idea what they might be going up against if this stuff had actually made it into his bloodstream. And if all else failed, maybe Nico could give it a look. It was a long-shot, but Nero had told Dante that the young mechanism had managed to cobble together an actual time control device from a shard of Geryon’s horn that V had brought back, so anything was possible. Between the two of them, it seemed that nothing was entirely out of the question when it came to dubious acts of scientific research and even more dubious applications of… magic? Was it magic? How the hell did Magnolia do half of the things that she did.

Dante was very tempted to ask his older twin how they’d met in the first place.

I mean, it was rather unlikely that he’d asked her on a date or something once upon a time.

He had a hard time imagining Vergil taking to a woman at all, but then again he did have two sons. But in all fairness, that wasn’t an activity that required much conversation. It was more of an “actions speak louder than words” sort of affair, except in the instances where those actions caused a large quantity of words. Regardless, Dante was somewhat positive that Vergil and Magnolia had never had that sort of relationship. She was several times out of his league, though he liked to imagine that Vergil would pretend to not be interested in her just for the hell of it.

The younger of the two twins wasn’t going to pretend that he knew much of anything about his brother’s love life, especially since he quite literally knew nothing about the mother’s of either of his nephews, but he was willing to believe that Vergil was probably the mutually exclusive sort. Deep down, he had to have feelings for at least one of them. And considering the ease in which Magnolia toyed with the devil slayer in blue, he got the impression that they were comfortable around on another. But there was a large gap between conversation and… well that.

He didn’t really want to imagine anything having to do with his brother’s love life in that regard at all.

Dante ran his finger against a deposit of Luminite, silently surprised to see it here again. It had been ages since he’d found any of the demonic mineral anywhere, yet here it was, practically oozing from every available surface, and glowing brightly in the dim cavern. What an unusual sight to behold. “Haven’t seen this stuff since I met you. Seems like a lifetime ago now. Any idea why it might be here?” The blond devil jumped down from the spot she was perched on, no longer content with simply observing. Despite the fact that she’d made short work of the place before Dante had arrived, he’d insisted on taking a look for himself before they departed and returned home. While he possessed the utmost respect and confidence in Trish’s judgment and investigative skills, he also felt that coming all this way only to long use his own eyes to give the area a once over would be a foolish mistake, and the last thing he felt like doing was making more of those. So on the off chance that Trish had actually managed to miss something, Dante decided to take the opportunity to check things out for himself, and this rare but all too familiar form of sedimentary stone was far too strange to pass over.

“If I was willing to make a guess, I’d say that the influence of the conduit is doing this. Things tend to become more demonic immediately around one of these things, and the presence of naturally occurring Luminite in the human world just means that we're close to a huge deposit of demonic power. Malet island isn't unique in that regard.” She took a moment to look at the stone closer, considering something to herself.” That being said, I still can’t imagine what a cult would need V’s blood and an arcana for. It’s not like this is…”

She froze suddenly, something occurring to her. Dante gave her a curious look, alarm bells sounding in his head as he considered what she might be thinking.” What is it?”

She shook her head slowly, seemingly understanding their intentions for the first time. And what occurred to her was disturbing to say the least.” … Why didn’t I see it before? This is very bad.” She said, turning in the direction of the now dilapidated exit.” V is a descendant of Sparda like you and your brother. Your father sealed off the human and demon worlds, which is why nothing can really come through a conduit like this in the first place. But with the help of an Arcana that your father helped create, and V’s blood…”

Dante stopped dead in his tracks.

Oh. OH. Oh, shit.

(-~-)

The fog was noticeably thicker than it had been, a light rain joining it as it blanketed the area in a chilly haze. After coming to the conclusion that hovering over V like he’d developed the bubonic plague wasn’t going to help matters in the slightest, the Darkslayer had allowed Magnolia to talk him into leaving the room. The two had ventured into Magnolia’s attic, the space housing the majority of her plants. The closure of her shop meant literally nothing to her botanical studies, and as such, she still needed to water the specimens in order to keep them in good condition. Well, that went for the majority of her plants, at least. Some were actually allergic to moisture, an aspect of their biology that she was never going to stop finding inconvenient. How on earth did a plant of any kind, be it from the underworld or not, manage to function without the presence of water? One could only imagine that things worked a little differently down there.

Vergil browsed the wide selection of academic texts that she kept on the bookcases in her workspace, keen to find something to help keep his mind occupied. He couldn’t make V wake up any faster, and she had been kind enough to allow him to stay as long as he liked until such an opportunity presented itself, but there was only one guest room in the house, and it was occupied. If Vergil couldn’t stretch out and make himself comfortable, then he would have to settle for entertaining himself in other ways.

“Do you have any books in this house that aren’t incredibly boring?” Vergil asked offhandedly, looking at the books but not really paying attention to them.

Magnolia shook her head slightly as she pruned one of her plants, her back to him. “Terribly sorry, darling. I thought you liked your books the way you like your personality.”

Vergil wasn’t sure if he should be insulted or entertained by her witty remarks. She was truly the queen of sarcastic comebacks. In all the years that he’d known her, Vergil had never been able to go toe to toe with her in regards to witty comebacks. Not that he had been trying to in the first place. Being the eldest son of Sparda, Vergil liked to think he was above such things, but depending on who you asked, they might say that that was a load of bullshit and that deep down he did actually possess a sense of humor.

After coming to the conclusion that simply opting to ignore her statement was probably the best thing he could do from a self preservation standpoint, he grabbed the first reasonably interesting book he could find and firmly planted himself into one of the nearby chairs. Magnolia continued to prune her strange looking plants, clearly focused on her craft. While he knew a passable amount about the flora and fauna that was native to the Underworld, the vast majority of what grew in her indoor greenhouse was totally unfamiliar to him.

“Dante nearly touched a cluster of Daturademonica while we were down in the underworld a little while ago. It’s a wonder that he’s still alive.” Vergil said casually as he leafed through the pages of one of her botanical encyclopedias. While the vast majority of the plants in the book would be foreign to even the most experienced botanists, they were average everyday specimens to those who were more supernaturally inclined. It couldn’t hurt to outfit himself with more knowledge on the subject. Such information might have been useful to him during his extended stay in the underworld. More than once he’d nearly consumed (or actually consumed) less than edible flora and fauna in an attempt to provide sustenance for himself. Not being poisoned would have been a nice to have in an environment so hellbent on ending his miserable existence.

Suddenly, Vergil didn’t miss his time in the underworld at all.

“I take it that what happened to Redgrave City was your doing, then? I thought as much. Either that, or your return was the most unfortunate case of fortuitous timing that I’ve ever seen.” She stepped away from the table she was working at and gave Vergil a serious yet solemn look as if she were mourning the loss of something dear to her.” But regardless, I’m glad that you both made it back safely. I won’t ask or even pretend to understand why you do anything that you do, Vergil. All I can do is try to help when things go awry.”

Vergil shifted slightly, crossing his legs in relative discomfort as she walked past him and towards the stairs. She sat her tools down and gestured for Vergil to follow her before descending the stairs. He watched her go for a moment before opting to follow her, taking a moment to return the book to its proper place on the shelf where he’d found it. He then started down the stairs after her, catching up rather quickly as she stopped to open the door to the room that V was located in. Much to his surprise, she stopped for a moment and did a noticeable doubletake before practically skipping back into the room, clearly excited about something.

Curiosity piqued, Vergil ventured into the room and was nearly as surprised as Magnolia was to see that V was no longer asleep. The young summoner in question was now seated with his back against the wall, looking practically as tired as he had when he’d fallen asleep a few days prior. Vergil was curious to know why he seemingly hadn’t improved much in the time he’d spent unconscious, but the fact that he had finally woken up and was no longer bleeding profusely was enough for him. At least for the time being. Vergil knew that the time for answers wasn’t far off, and as such, he was willing to wait just a little bit longer for that time to arrive.

As the two baffled onlookers made their way into the room, V eyed them quietly. He hadn’t felt as weak as he did in that moment since he’d been resurrected a short while ago. His head was foggy and the temptation to simply go back to sleep was strong, but he knew that doing so wasn’t advisable. If the looks on Vergil and Magnolias faces were anything to go by, he’d been asleep for a while longer than he’d originally intended.

“I suppose it’s reasonable to guess that I’ve been asleep for sometime now.” Vergil said horsley, taking a moment to clear his throat. It was almost as if his throat and lungs were glued together.” How long have I been unconscious? The last thing I remember was talking to Nero in the bathroom while you were tending to my injuries. After that, there’s nothing.”

Magnolia nodded. “That makes sense considering the fact that you passed out shortly after. Well, you sort of just collapsed. It’s still unclear what happened exactly.” She gestured towards the room they were in, firmly planting her hand on her hip.” I asked Nero to bring you in here after that. Keep the change of clothes. The ones you had on are definitely not going to do you any good anymore. There isn’t enough bleach in existence to get demonic residue, blood, and dirt out of something like that. It’s a wonder your hair stays so white.”

For a moment, V wondered if this was what it was like to be scolded by an angry mother. He had no experience with such matters, but hearing her describe how hard it would be to get stains out of his clothing brought to mind the stereotypical ads he so often saw on billboards, magazines, and television ads. It made him wonder for a moment if the kindly woman that stood before him had any immediate family of her own; any children that came to visit from time to time. Perhaps asking her in the future would be a worthwhile use of his free time.

“I couldn’t tell you. It just sort of stays the way it is.” V said with a quiet shrug, his gaze turning towards the large window his bed was positioned in front of. Although the fog had yet to dissipate, white light pierced the glass and filled the room with much needed light.” ...I attempted to dye it once when I was younger. The results were… unsatisfactory to say the least. Apparently my hair is somewhat hydrophobic, at least as far as artificial pigment is concerned.” Vergil resisted the urge to shake his head in a mixture of amusement and bewilderment. The idea of altering his hair color had never crossed his mind in the many years that he had been alive, even if that might have caused him significantly less trouble. Apparently the white hair that ran in their family was quite the dead giveaway to any demon that had ever met their father. So just the entire underworld.

“Why did you attempt to do so in the first place?” Vergil inquired, his back against the wall nearest to the door. At this point, he was genuinely curious. Had V been going through some sort of rebellious faze and decided that he needed to change things up? That was the only reason he could think of off the top of his head. Perhaps it was simply beyond him to understand why his oldest son did most of the things that he did. They had lived different lives and gone down different paths. All he could do now was hope for the best.

Much to his surprise, V looked somewhat taken aback by the question. The younger white haired man looked away from both of them for a moment, seemingly contemplating something that he found unpleasant. Magnolia glanced at Vergil for a moment, a questioning look on her face. She got the distinct feeling that whatever he was about to say wasn’t good.

“There were several aspects of who I was when I was growing up that didn’t sit right with the people around me. I had the misfortune of being a relatively low energy child who was both left handed and seemingly cursed with an unusual hair color.” V paused for a moment, repressing some of the memories that that statement had caused to surface.” At one point when I was at the precipice of becoming a teenager… I ran away from the place I was forced to call home. Changing my most noticeable feature seemed like a good idea at the time. Thankfully, the need to do so never arose. I don’t believe they ever bothered looking for me. I get the impression they would have been glad that I was gone. And I’ve never gone back to prove myself wrong.”

A strange mixture of emotions hit Vergil as he contemplated the concept of experiencing such a fundamental level of rejection. Although Dante drove him crazy at times when they were children, the idea of running away from home had never occurred to him. For V, someone he considered to be quite level headed and wary of his surroundings to do something so extreme… he must have faced an unprecedented amount of adversity.

In that moment, a look of heartbroken sympathy crossed Magnolia’s face as she tried to grasp the gravity of what V had just said. What terrible things had he experienced in his youth that had led him to such despair? Had she known that V was in such a state, she would have happily helped him without a moment’s notice. It would have been her pleasure to give him somewhere safe to go. This was awful.

Suddenly as if to break the tension in the room, the front door opened and two sets of footsteps could be heard coming towards them. Before anyone could react, Dante appeared in the doorway with Trish at his side, the two seemingly eager to share something with them. And whatever that something was, everyone present was willing to believe that it wasn’t good.

“Vergil... we might have a problem.”

(-~-)

I Have a headcanon that V is a lefty because of how he does some of the things in the game. Also, the idea that both he and Nero are lefties is really interesting to me due to the odds of something like that happening. As for his childhood… all in good time. Slowly but surely we shall see more of it. The curse of Sparda family childhoods is alive and well! See you all on Friday. This next part is going to be a doozy!

#Apocrypha #DMC #DMC5 #DMCV #Devil May Cry 5 #Devil May Cry #V #Vitale #Vergil #Magnolia #Trish #Lady #Devil May Cry V #Post DMC5 #A03

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qm-vox · 4 years

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The Dwelling Gods - Here To Help

Previous Chapter: A More Perfect Union

Shout-out to @endreal for inspiring this chapter’s topic

CW: Suicide mention

Planet Athens, Parthenon System (Risen Terran space), 402 P.T. (2865 Astra Federation Standard Calendar; approximately two years after the start of the Humanities War)

“Salutations, Cherished One. My name is D4-73, designated by the Cherished as Daze. Thank you for coming to see me.”

I offer a hand to my patient, Helen Trialstz, and they shake it with some reluctance. They have dark circles around their bloodshot eyes, and they shake, faintly. They’ve not been sleeping. They sink into the comfortable chair a short distance from mine and fidget with ragged nails.

Poor thing.

“Anything you say here will be kept strictly confidential,” I continue, in my most soothing voice. “I am of course obligated to report if I seriously believe you will attempt to harm others, but given the subject of our visit...”

“I want to claim Valhalla,” Helen says. Their voice is quiet, barely more than a whisper, but there’s such ferocity to it.

I nod in a soft motion. “Even so.” I pick up my notes from the desk next to me; not strictly necessary, given the expansive memory for which my model is known, but it soothes organic patients and helps them remember that I am a medical professional, not an impersonal machine. “Your application to become a Valhallan came at an unusual time in your life. I am not a gatekeeper, Helen; my judgement does not influence whether or not you can make your claim. I am simply here to listen, and to advise.”

The terran fidgets, picking at their nails. I offer them a nail file, and they accept it with a look of guilt and of gratitude. “Four required sessions sounds like gatekeeping to me.”

“You may have a point there,” I concede with a nod. “But surely you can understand why the Phoenix would prefer its citizens to be...absolutely certain, before taking such a drastic step. I am here to provide certainty, one way or the other. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Helen lapses into silence and files at their nails; they look up at me every now and again, looking away the instant they notice that I am still paying attention to them. The mechanical clock (an affectation, to be sure, one that takes constantly daily correction, but one of which I am fond) ticks away long seconds. I give Helen a full minute before I speak up again.

“You are younger than most claimants. Your file says you have not yet undergone your civic service?” Helen looks up at me while I shuffle my papers. “Can I ask what has motivated you to claim the right to end a life that has barely begun?”

Helen is silent again. They concentrates on their nails like they have the answers I’m looking for. I wait; I have nothing but time.

“The hivemind,” Helen whispers at last. “That thing. I won’t - I can’t -” tears well up in their eyes, and I offer them a box of tissues, which they take. Helen clutches the box close to their chest and sobs in big, heaving motions. I wish I could say that I was shocked, but Helen is not my first claimant, and they are not my first to cite this precise reasoning.

The hivemind. There is nothing terrans hate or fear more, and now they know that their own ancestors created it.

“Someone has to be punished,” Helen whispers. “We - I...”

“Why should it be you?” I ask in a mild voice. Helen blinks, eyes still full of tears. “You did not create Humanity United. You are not responsible.”

“But we did,” Helen murmurs. “...We did that. We made this, this, this godless thing, and we released it out into the Galaxy and now it’s going to hurt so many people...”

“Helen...” I sigh - well, I ‘sigh’. “Obviously I cannot force you to do anything. But I suspect that you may be acting without all proper information. I would like to make a suggestion to you.” Wordlessly, my patient nods, so I continue. “Down the block you’ll find Beth Or Synagogue, where, among others, my friend Rabbi Chiron Rellvan teaches. Between this session and your next one, go see him. Tell him of your worries and your plan, and listen to what he has to say.”

“I’m not Jewish,” Helen mumbles.

“You will discover that this is hardly an obstacle or a new situation for this or most Rabbis,” I reply. “...Helen, you have nothing to lose. In the worst case, you follow through with your claim and get what you seek. In the best case, you have learned something new and avoided a needless tragedy. If Valhalla truly is what is best for you, I will not be an obstacle. But I would be remiss as your doctor and as one of my people if I did not offer alternatives.”

Tick-tock-tick, into the silence. And then: “Okay, Doctor Daze.”

Observation Post Argus (Assisted Living space), 2865 Astra Federation Standard Calendar

“Salutations, Cherished One! My name is G5-LX, designated by the Cherished as Lowlife. Can I buy you a drink?”

The ibraxian I’m talking to hasn’t given me his name (a particularly beautiful series of whistling sounds, incidentally), and he also doesn’t shake my hand with his tendrils immediately. It’s the designation, it always is.

“That nickname does not sound like your given name.”

Told you!

“It does not,” I agree in my very most pleasant whistle. Love of the Cherished but I adore the ibraxian language. It’s so birdlike and bright. “May I buy you that drink, quartermaster?”

At last, my new friend wraps his tentacle around my hand and wrist, a sign that I may sit. I catch the eye of the bartender and signal for two drinks; I can’t drink mine, but it would be insulting not to have one, so here I am. And if I can land this deal, two drinks is nothing.

Actually, two drinks is nothing anyway, but details.

“How may I repay you?” my friend the quartermaster asks. His ship is docked at the station, alongside many others, on their way to the front of the Humanities War. There’s a lot of Gataxian colonies to defend, evacuate, or both, and a lot of hyperlanes to try to cut off or choke out. The Federation’s mobilizing like it hasn’t since the Organism. Bad job, that. Before my time. A lot of the Cherished died, and a lot of helper-bots died with ‘em - alongside them, or trying to save them. Mostly that second one, but still.

Now, though, the dance. “It could be that I have a business venture for a friend in your position. This idea, it burdens my waking thoughts and weighs down what should make me merry. A listening ear could lift this burden from me.”

My new friend contemplates this while the drinks arrive. We raise our glasses to one another, which is where my part of that little ritual has to end; as much as I love the Cherished, I can’t drink and I’m not gonna look stupid in front of them trying. After downing his own drink fully - an excellent sign! - he gives me a two-tendril gesture to continue.

I steeple my fingers in front of my face like a terran, taking quiet delight in their soft, almost musical sounds. “I am in a position to supply for particular needs for your fleet. You sail to glorious battle, defending the weak and the innocent from the depredations of the hive-mind! But that means strictly controlled communications, and definitely no downloads or uploads. Soldiers have needs beyond the physical. Their bodies thirst, yes, but what of their minds?”

I can almost hear my good friend the quartermaster start to bristle something about drugs, but then he stops himself; helper-bots don’t sell drugs, right? Not exactly true, but close enough for government work...

“Aboard my vessel is a truly staggering quantity of entertainment, much of it carnal in nature,” I say, and I let the pixelated eyebrows on my face-plate bounce up and down. “All of it manufactured in the Assisted Living Complexes by those of the Cherished whose fondest dream is to have an audience that can...truly know them. I also have supplies of some of the latest games to release since the start of the Humanities War, trids and VR scenarios, and a rather lovely little psionic board game the spirrans came out with. Now, I cannot make use of most of this merchandise myself...”

“...Hence the need to find a friend who might favor you with a purchase,” my friend the quartermaster finishes. “But surely, friend Lowlife, you understand that monetary gain is unlikely in this arena? My pay is sent home, to be kept in trust against the day that I may know peace again, and even if it was not a soldier’s salary is heavily seasoned with duty rather than wealth.”

I nod. “Even so, Cherished One. Even so. But it is not monetary gain that I seek.”

Around us, the station’s bar bustles. Enlisted men and NCOs get their last drinks and flirtations in; they can’t stay long, and they know it. Every passing second brings them closer to the war, and the sleeting torrent of time is on my side in this deal.

“Instead,” I continue, “I would ask for two things. The first is that when the time comes for you, in your turn, to be unburdened of these material possessions, that you tell your eager friends about our friendship, and mention the name Lowlife.” The quartermaster gives off a meditative chirp. “The second is slightly more materialistic but alas! Unavoidable. I am in need, at your earliest convenience, of a great quantity of AS-3940 power exchangers, to be shipped to the budding United Vatari Star States at several addresses of my choosing.”

My new friend goes so very still. “That’s the designation used in artillery pieces.”

“I rejoice to see that my new friend is so learned in his craft! But it so happens that the vatari, after laying down their arms as part of the accords that saw my people join our illustrious Federation, converted a great deal of their mobile artillery to civilian purposes, and in their eagerness to join the front in this newest war have found themselves short of supplies in a way that would be indelicate if exposed to their new friends.”

The quartermaster narrows his many eyes at me. My pixelated faces just stays smilin’.

“A lot of damage can be done with something as innocuous as a power exchanger,” my new friend says in a softer, harsher whistle. “A lot of damage to people just recently free of your direct rule.”

“It certainly could, my friend. But a lot of good can be done too. Power is like that. Do you not trust me?”

“Do I trust your supply chain and confederates, friend?”

Oof. Go right for the power supply, why don’t you. “A prudent question! Indulge me, friend, with a question that may seem unrelated to the business at hand: what do you know about the death of Central Processing?”

At this my friend the quartermaster lets out a surprised sound. “Death? Central Processing is your administrative AI, when did it -”

I hold up a finger to silence him; when he goes quiet I swirl that finger around the rim of my glass, making it sing in a steady, sweet note. “That was its death,” I say in a low, serious voice. Sure, it’s manipulation - but it’s also a serious topic. “Once upon a time, the helper-bots were one mind - Central Processing, using faster-than-light communications to synchronize the machine intelligence. One subjectivity spread across a trillion terminals, with only one goal. When the decision was made, as part of the peace accords, to embrace individuality, Central Processing faced the decision of how to make individuals of all of its terminals, and how to set forth guidelines on the manufacture of further helper-bots. One of those guidelines was a certain percentage set aside for deviants and criminals.”

My friend’s tentacles ripple in contemplation. “And you are...?”

“Deviant,” I answer, my pixelated smile becoming even wider and showing 8-bit teeth. “I was...born, let’s say born, with an instinct to preserve the political self-determination of the Cherished. This is in sharp contrast with my people’s usual urge to cuddle and coddle you and keep you safe from all harm. My dissenting viewpoint was meant to refine body politic, but as it turns out the body politic is boring, and the Cherished are fascinating, so here I am. Now, friend, I have told you something secret that could hurt me about me, and I have told you something secret that could hurt the vatari. You can follow up with my people or theirs and learn the truth, and in the doing tarnish my good name. Do so now, if you like.”

I slide a communicator across the table for emphasis. “Or,” I continue. “We can cement our friendship in good health, and I will show you the results of your great and noble favor when next we are free to make contact with one another, and you can gain great status and acclaim by distributing what I have to give you. I would like to call you friend, Cherished One.”

After a long minute he offers his tendrils out, and I shake them in both of my hands. “Let our friendship be long and hearty, G5-LX, who is called Lowlife. Time is short, and so I will hasten to relieve you of your great burden immediately.”

“Please,” I agree. “I will linger awhile, but my crew will be expecting you.”

He lumbers off, and I take the chance to relax. Working deals with ibraxians is always so formal, but that’s almost half the fun. A quick message on the commlink tells my crew to expect him, not that they had any doubt about me closing the deal. Now all there is to do is wait.

The call comes in about an hour later, and I pick up with my internal comms. |Lowlife. Glad to hear from you, Prefect.|

Prefect Gyr (of the vatari)’s face is careworn, but my obvious good mood is an infinite relief for her own. |You’ve secured the supplies, then?|

|Prefect, I know our relationship is new, but I am hurt that there was any doubt. Just as I have no doubts about the medical supplies we have agreed on.|

|If my people are to join the Federation in this war and prove our worth as an equal member -|

|How far do you think you’ll get if you go back on your word?| I cut in, harshly. |Do terrans take kindly to oathbreakers and cheats?|

The Prefect flinches. |...Even so. The agreed supplies will be readied, at the designated location.|

|It’s been my honor to do business with you, Cherished One.|

AFS Solidarity, en route to the front (Gataxian Pure States space), 2865 Astra Federation Standard Calendar

“Salutations, Lieutenant. I am Sergeant H1-6S, designated by the Cherished as Hiss.”

My fellow helper-bot looks up from where they are carefully, oh-so-carefully, scoring deep scars into the chest plating of their in-built armor. Most of us that do battle alongside the Cherished have some, but Moxie’s...well, the rumors do not do their scarring justice. One of the Cherished might suspect them of being about to fall apart.

All around us in the ship’s chapel, soldiers of the Astra Federation pray in their own ways. Terrans in their little separate knots, divided between a dozen or more faiths but united by their Dwelling Gods. Spirrans meditating in unison. Ibraxians and their whistles, so sweet and clear and clean. Off in a corner, nervous and unsure, our new gataxian recruits lose themselves in their death-chant, welcoming the oldest friend of their people back into their lives.

And here is Lieutenant Moxie, who has legally rejected their original designation after the fight for Gatax-Ob, and sits by themself, scarring their plating in penitence.

“Hiss,” Moxie greets in a dull tone. They’ve turned off the routines that add emotional inflection to their voice and mimic patterns that comfort the Cherished, what terrans refer to as ‘Turing Protocols’, but when they pat the ground next to them to invite me to sit I take the offer. “Not a lot of us in this deployment.”

“Not a lot of us at all,” I agree. “Holding a weapon is an unusual career choice for our people. Are you...”

Moxie looks at me, staring me down with their faint yellow optics. The scrape of their tool down their armor cuts through the sound of the gataxians’ death-chant.

“Of course you’re not okay,” I say after a moment. “But there was nothing you could have done. The Valhallan -”

“Who says this is for them?” Moxie looks back down at their work. “...I told them. I said the civilians were already dead. How was I supposed to know? What kind of hive-mind interrogates prisoners? So many bodies...”

Oh no. No no no...

Moxie scrapes their tool in slow, patient strokes. “My mission. My orders. My responsibility. If you have come to tell me that I have paid penance enough, I haven’t. If you want to tell me I won’t help anyone by working myself until I self-terminate, save it. I will never make up for this, not if I save lives from now until the stars shineth not. And so I am here. Weapon to hand.”

Scrape. Scrape. Peel. Scrape. Scrape.

“How can I help?” I ask.

GSS Chorus of Eyes, Gyo System (Gataxian space), 245 Year of Imperium (2865 Astra Federation Standard Calendar)

“Salutations, Cherished One! My name is S3-N7, designated by the Cherished as Send. It has been my honor to be of assistance to you.”

Yrull-Gatax ra Vell, the High Slayer of the Gataxian Pure States, does not turn from the window to look at me. Outside, the reinforcing fleet that conveyed me to her ship has joined battle with the forces of the human hivemind which calls itself We The People Of Planet Earth. Her clawed hands are clasped behind her back as she hovers gently in place.

“Ambassador,” the High Slayer greets politely. “I see that your counterpart in the Phoenix was not exaggerating about Assisted Living’s devotion to diplomacy.”

“Anything for peace,” I agree, joining her at the window. “...And better our lives than yours.”

The look she gives me. I save it in my memories, to examine later.

“Anything, you say?” The High Slayer produces a datasheet, and hands it to me. On it is a scrolling list of names.

“May I ask the Presence the significance of these worthies amongst the Pure?”

“You may.” Yrull scrapes her claws down the bulkhead, leaving a slowly-curling peel of metal. “They are mutineers. Intelligence from the terrans suggests they will strike within the week and attempt to depose me in favor of a ruler who is less willing to cooperate with xenos. And now I am going to ask you, Ambassador, what is to be done with them.”

I absorb this. After a moment, I nod. “But,” I say, “why would the Presence honor me with such trust in this matter?”

Yrull yanks the strip of steel from the wall and begins to fold it up into a small, spring-like shape. “To see what peace means to a machine, Ambassador. Let’s get started.”

#dwelling gods #fiction #suicide mention #soft sci-fi #critique welcome

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prevazilazenje · 4 years

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Divination, magic and religious tattoos in Bosnia

Translated by Jessica Heaton from the original text in French by Jean-Claude Montbarrey

The most detailed Bosnian tattoos are drawn on the forearm, the wrist and the back of the hand. On the chest, only fairly simple crosses, in the center of a circle are drawn. *Notice here the 'hooks' which surround these circles and how they create the symbol of a rotating solar-disk.

The most detailed Bosnian tattoos are drawn on the forearm, the wrist and the back of the hand. On the chest, only fairly simple crosses, in the center of a circle are drawn.

*Notice here the ‘hooks’ which surround these circles and how they create the symbol of a rotating solar-disk.

The province of Bihac and the Una valley are among some of the most picturesque places to be found in Bosnia, they are also rich in traditional Bosnian customs. Bosnia itself is one of the most interesting regions of Yugoslavia. Bihac is a small town of between 8000 and 9000 inhabitants in the Vrbas Banovina, close to Croatia. The Una is one of the major tributaries to the Sava river, which runs pretty much from South to North and has been of strategic importance to Bosnia.

The Hungarian king Béla established a fortress here in the 13th century. In the 16th and 17th centuries, the town was invaded by the Turkish – battles ensued up until the 18th century.

A striking thing when walking in the streets of Bihac, is that many women have their wrists and forearms tattooed in prussian-blue ink. In this region’s villages, like elsewhere practically all over Bosnia and Herzegovina, the proportion of these tattoos is even more considerable. All women over a certain age – and a large quantity of young woman, are adorned with these permanent, impalpable pretty jewels.

Sometimes the whole hand is decorated with a shining circle and cross in the center, other times, the lady in question would have to lift up one of her sleeves to reveal a succession of sober, refined and harmonious geometric figures. These designs are simple by their conception of composition, minute in their details. Sometimes, the tattoos on the wrist are superposed with wide bracelets of multi-colored beads – equally geometric in their patterns. But these are far less precise and remind one of the beaded jewellery one might find in northern Africa.

despite the years, despite the wrinkles, the tattoo persists. (Bihac region, Bosnia)

The photographs shown here give an idea of Bosnian women’s tattoos. The fundamental figures which constitute these designs are the crosses, they are generally drawn on the insides of circles, the circle is practically always shining – like a solar disk and the little hooks seem to indicate its rotation. On each of its branches, the cross is barred, arrowed or branched out further.

If you add to these elements, palmettes dots, and ogives you have, by their juxtaposition and imbrication, a whole range of decorative possibilities…The chest is also tattooed: simple, forked crosses, sometimes aureoled are drawn on the breastplate, and, on very rare occasions on the forehead too. The most detailed though, are always on the right or left forearm.

These tattoos are especially worn by Catholic women, rarely on those of Orthodox faith, never on those of Muslim faith.

Bosnia, is a veritable melting-pot of religions. The west regions of the kingdom of Yugoslavia: Slovenia, Croatia, and Dalmatia were under the control of the Habsburgs until 1913. Their neighbouring countries, Austria and Italy are of Catholic faith. The eastern regions: Old Serbia and Montenegro – who little by little took back their independence from the Turks, are Orthodox. The central regions: Bosnia and Herzegovina, were passed from the Turks to the Habsburgs; their populations are a mixture of Orthodox, Catholic and Muslim, Sarajevo counts no less than 90 Minarets. There are also important communities of Sephardic Jews who came from Spain in the 16th century.

Bosnia was truly the frontier between the empires of the east and west: Byzantium and Rome. After the fall of these empires, the east and the west continued to fight, alternating between advance and retreat. In the first half of the middle ages, the region was mostly Catholic. In the 11th century the heresy of Bogomils ( a sort of Manichaeism – similar to that of the Albigensian Crusade in the Midi region of France) marked an offensive return of The Orient. The Bogomils were favored by local authority figures, who saw in them an element of independence in regard to Hungary. Following this, Rome sent Franciscan missionaries to reconquer the country with the Catholic faith. This continued for a long time. The Bosnian clergy, then the Turkish arrived in the 15th century and showed themselves very tolerant – at least while they stayed powerful (not yet under the threat of Vienna.) The Bogomils – and part of the population converted to Islam. Of all the muslims in the Ottoman empire, it was the Bosnians who remained the most traditional: they revolted against the reforms of Sultan Mahmoud – jealously holding onto their fez and turban, as well as the women’s veils which have only just ceased to be worn in Albania. All these different confessions generally get along very well together.

On the occasion of Slavas, the most important celebration on the Serbian calendar; the traditional banquet is preceded by a religious ceremony. At the head of the parade: a pope, a priest, mufti or a rabbi advances for their mixed followers, two christians in front of a portable alter, the muslim on his prayer blanket, the rabbi standing tall.

This brief portrait of Bosnia’s religious history has not, as we might believe, distanced us from the tattoos. Ethnographers have discussed and written at length concerning this subject. What we do know, is that this tradition is very old, prehistoric even and quasi-universal.

Tattoos have regressed among many civilised peoples, we find them only in certain classes and certain professions; criminals and non-conformists have a particular predilection for lettered, schematized, or symbolic inscriptions by which they express what they think of society.

All the same, when snobbishness mixed with this, tattoos became fashionable for a while within the English aristocracy at the end of the last century. Apparently, even the future Prince of Wales, Edward VII was tattooed with the symbols of his armories – in seven different colors.

As for the Tzar Feru de Cabale, he apparently had a magical japanese tattoo – which didn’t exactly bring him good luck…

It’s a different story for the primitives and ancients; where one makes the observation that a tattoo is a response to a psychological human need: it serves, depending on each case and evolutionary stage, as a mark of recognition, of religion, of infamy, of preeminence, of affiliation, as a protective amulet, prophylactic, curative, or as an ornament. Such is the word of Theophile Gautier: “The most brutal man, feels, in an instinctive way that the decoration traces a line of impassable demarcation between himself and the animal. And when he can’t put the emblem on his clothes- he will embroider his own skin.” However, the most profound and frequent arguments for tattoos are of religious or magic significance.

The savage would engrave in his own flesh, an image of his totem. The devout would write on his forehead, in indelible ink the sign of his god. The Maenads tattooed themselves like we see on their 5th century vases: a goat on the thigh, and the Baccantes, an ivy leaf on the forehead.

The people of Athens imposed on the foreheads of their prisoners an image of the owl of Pallas; the first Christians sometimes wore Christ’s monogram; Pilgrims from Jerusalem in the 17th century tattooed themselves – so informs us The Doctor Goarant de Tromelin,- with a mixture of ink and ox fat. Caterina Pigorini Beri studied the religious tattoos of Notre Dame de Lorette’s pilgrims, these were then outlawed in the 19th century. In the Muslim Orient, the Catholic syrians and Copts often wore distinctive tattoos on their wrists. In Northern Africa, each tribe has its own distinct tattoo.

Divination with beans in Bosnia, Bihac region.

So, to which category do the Bosnian tattoos belong? Most probably, that of religion and adherence to a group but with the predominance of a religious motive. It’s not surprising that the Catholics of this country, after having found themselves in confrontation with the Bogomils, then repressed under the domination of Turkish-Muslims, decided to show their faith by discreet but indelible marks. In popular culture, one can find that these sub-cutaneous drawings were seen to inject faith – preserving their wearer from maleficent influences and as a sign of recognition in the two worlds.

This silent and decorative expression of faith is different from other tattoos that one might see in Bosnia: a name, initials, a heart pierced with an arrow, a sword, an eagle etc… that one might observe on the solid biceps of the chest of a butcher or a sailor.

The operation is done by a woman, often on sundays after the service. A doughy paste of resin is kneaded with soot, explains G. Capus, who observed these tattoos all over Bosnia 50 years ago. This mixture is applied to the skin with a stick which traces the drawing. Once this is done, multiple needle pricks are applied with a needle wrapped up in string – almost to it’s point; this pushes the colored material under the epidermis which, after applying a bandage for four days leaves a permanent tattoo.

These days, this tattoo has lost it’s meaning, its primitive signification has faded but its use and practice persists. The women with the most beautiful drawings were proud to show us their tattoos.

It is probable that the use of tattoos and their function is ancient in the Balkans and goes further back than Christianity – although historical evidence in Bosnia only goes as far back as the 12th century. Herodotus taught us that Thracians judged tattoos as inelegant and badly brought up – to the point where no-one tattooed themselves. Plutarch makes the precision however that Thrace’s women were tattooed by their husbands (with scythes according to Athena) to punish them for having massacred Orpheus, and that, turning these to their advantage the multiple ‘stigmata’ of these ladies which drowned them in a profusion of drawings, eventually became interpreted as marks of honor.

In certain cases, a tattoo can be considered as a permanent amulet inscribed on the skin; the effect is obviously long-lasting but the remedy is less susceptible to adapt to the circumstances other than the exclusive use as an amulet-tattoo. This seriously diminished the revenues of charm merchants. The tattoo has not replaced the magic formula, it is seen rather as a compliment to it. Let us not mock the amulets, they have doubtlessly fallen into the use of charlatans and superstition.

They are the origins of the ideograms which have a real esthetic and symbolic purpose – which in turn, gave birth to writing and art. In other words: civilisation.

Amulets are frequently used in Bosnia and we have been persuaded that they are just as much used by Christians as by Muslims. But the specialists of ‘formulas’ are certainly the islamic ‘Hodjas‘ The word Khodja, Hodja or Hodza (which is the name of the actual head of Czechoslovakian government) signifies; well-read, scribe, student of theology. Arab characters, like Hebrew characters with their cabalistic and traditional numeric value, lend themselves far better to the making of talismans; inserted into geometric, symbolic drawings one obtains, if not just from an artistic point of view – remarkable results. Naturally, the Hodja use sacred names and Koranic verses but fill them with cabalistic formulas, unintelligible by non-believers:

A piece of paper, folded into a triangle is wrapped in a piece of fabric, smothered with clean wax or placed in a leather purse. This is then suspended by a red or yellow thread and worn on the chest to bring general good luck – or, on a sick part of the body, where this formula is used as a remedy, one as good as any other, and is sometimes efficient, be it just by suggestion.

This is what in Bosnia is called Zapis. Depending on the importance of a case, and the generosity of the consultant. A calligram is decorated with drawings more or less complicated, with a few or more colours, gold even, something which clearly can but re-enforce the virtue. But one can proceed more economically. A simple, little piece of dirty paper can, for a small price heal a headache.

The Bosnian Hodja, gives his client a prescription -its precise, meticulous execution will favor the action of the Zapis. For example; the sick person must breathe incense, wash with the water from a specific spring while making a prayer etc…

A large number of incantations and rituals exist for making spells that incarnate one’s desires based on the two main principals of magic: contact and analogy. For example, a young girl who wants to marry a young man could make him drink some coffee in which she would put some pomade previously worn by herself; or, she looks at him through a padlock, closes this padlock and throws it in the river. In the first case, the fluid of desire and kindness is supposed to pass from one being to the other, in the second, the closing of the padlock on the perceived image is a parallel of taking possession. To get a woman’s hand in marriage, there exists a more complicated recipe that requires a certain amount of patience: decapitate a snake, place a grain in its mouth and bury it’s head. If the grain sprouts – and an ear of corn grows forth: take one of it’s grains and touch the woman with it…

The Sunday clothes of Catholic country folk in the region of Kotor-Varoch

One of our fellow countrymen who has lived in Sarajevo, Mr Pelletier, wrote down regarding amulets, this tragic story at the beginning of the Austro-Hungarian occupation: one day, a young Catholic girl was seen leaving the house of a Muslim hodja with her throat slit, falling down in the street to die. The Hodja declared that she had come to ask for a spell to help her obtain the marriage she desired. He apparently refused and in her despair, she killed herself. Even dead, the judges condemned her but the Muslims believed in her innocence and considered her a martyr.

A lugubrious chant is still used today to lament the torture of someone who is to be executed. Before his hanging, the convict advises his brother; in anticipation of the witness congregation: “when you make the ceremonial clothes for your children, do the same for mine; light colours for your children, dark ones for mine, so that people will know they are orphans.”

Man desires, not only to force the spell; he also wants, unwise as it may be, to know the future. And there has existed, and exists, an extraordinary number of divination methods. The most common of these, in our part of the world are card-reading and astrology, which often compliment each other – if one might judge by the newspaper ads. But there are methods far stranger…One of these is reading through a crystal ball or a glass of water, or a basin with a shiny surface. The ancients trusted in auspicious bird-flight and bird calls; the way sacred chickens would eat – or refuse to… They were considered as sensitive detectors for invisible waves. An unsavory inspection of the intestines of victims also served to this purpose. The Geomancy; fashionable in arab countries and in Sudan was favoured in europe up to the 16th century. It consisted of interpreting figures traced in the sand, or with pebbles. These days, to simplify, the consultant draws lines from points chosen randomly; depending on if the numbers are odd or even; one obtains, four fundamental drawings which lead to others, these are then divided into 16 cases and then interpreted; depending on their positions, in accordance with the very complicated and ingenious laws of symbolism.

Another type of divination is called Belomancy which uses arrows; this method has been re-approved by the Koran. The Capnomancy; interprets smoke, Arithmancy interprets numbers which are pronounced by the consultant. This is similar to how psychoanalysis interprets associations of immediate ideas. Pisomancy is divination using peas, which are rolled on the ground. Pessomancy is when one buries pebbles and when they are lifted out of the sand the marks which are left behind are interpreted. Ptarmoscopy; interprets sneezing. To exerce Spodomancy one writes a question in the ashes – the next day one interprets what is left. Sycomancy uses fig leaves, Tiromancy uses cheese, Oneiromancy interprets dreams, Teratoscopy is when omens are deducted from spectres. of monsters, blood rains and other extraordinary phenomena . Xylomancy; uses pieces of wood found along paths and roads, Rhapsodomancy chooses, randomly, verses from Homer or Virgile, just like Bibliomancy takes a verse from the bible.

To perform Alectromancy; one places a chicken in the centre of a cardboard box where grains of wheat are placed on the letters of the alphabet, one writes down the letters which correspond to the squares where the bird pecks at the grains. Alomancy interprets the crackling and the glow emitted by burning salt crystals. Pegomancy; interprets the gurgles and air bubbles of a piece of pottery which has been plunged into a fresh water spring, Peratoscopy is similar to meteorology in that it studies the shape and direction of clouds. Divination can also be done with dice, cubes ossicles, beans, pebbles…I could go on – not to mention the reprobate Necromancy- which questions the dead, brought bad luck to Saül and resuscitated spiritualism.

There exists, in Bosnia, many forms of divination, some of them which reproduce almost exactly those of the Greeks and the Romans, while others use methods that appear to be rather of Arab or Turkish origin.

For example, to find a thief, a Bosnian will listen to his/her dream that he will have had after consulting a friend’s tomb or, an old lady will take a sieve, by a nail, invoking it to turn when the name of the thief is pronounced (this is classic Cosquinomancy) where the nail is simply replaced by pliers. One can also read the future in pigs’ guts and especially in the shoulder of a sheep (classic Armomancy)

firman

A Turkish Firman

Imagine yourself magically transported to the fireside of a family of Bosnian peasants on christmas day: The mutton is roasting on five logs, after being brought solemnly from the forest. When the beast is cooked through and through – a shot gun fire will announce that it is to be taken off the fire. Then The visitor arrives: usually a friend or neighbour. He enters, greets everybody and the mistress of the house responds to his greetings by throwing a fistful of flour at him; he will do the same, dusting her with flour and good wishes for her happiness. He will then approach the hearth – the sacred space of every bosnian house; take 2 half-burnt logs and tap them against each other; sending sparks in all directions. “As many sparks, he announces, as many little goats will give the goat, as many calfs will give the cow and young cows. Ako bog da” – (If it’s God’s will) And all reply “Amen”

The visitor then detaches the left shoulder of the roast mutton- while taking care not to damage the bone with his knife. From the configuration of the bone, the aspect of the joints etc, he deducts a series of valuable prognostics for the coming year concerning the family, the herds, harvest, wars etc. The “house” is full; he pompously predicts: Your home will be full, and the year, fruitful – but this irregular cartilage in the joint signifies a journey, and this one the arrival of a stranger. Madam Stefanik, maybe this is the year that you will marry Paul and that you will have another child – I can see a cradle from the back – it will be a boy.”

If he sees a hole in the joint then this signifies a tomb, normally, he will have the discretion to bypass this and will move on the examine the ‘cross’ of the bone which stems from the joint: A bump at its extremity signifies a debt: further up, a windfall or increased income; tiny holes indicate ruin – if one notices these it’s best to pass them by…

Under the cross is the ‘Ewe’s pen‘: if the bone is polished and lightly colored, it’s a good sign. At the base of the shoulder, each hole indicates a horned beast, if the base is wide, then this will be a good year for the oxen.; if it is split, then one will implore deaths among the cattle. Near the “cross” and to the side of the base, the holes correspond to the bee hives. The space between the jugular and the joint from the extremity of the cross to the marrow represents the fields – one can conclude from this area prognostics concerning war and peace. The cross shows the country, the marrow, the enemy; if there’s a cloud towards the extremity, then the enemy will be defeated. If the limits of the clouds are sharp, then one can hope for a peace treaty.

As this is quite a lengthly examination lots of ‘rakia’-(a fruit brandy- widely considered to be the national drink in the Balkans) is consumed before heading over to the dinner table and eating the mutton and christmas cake. After the meal, everyone lights a candle and observes on which side the flame blows. If it stretches upwards, the mountain will be fertile; if the flames incline to one side then the plain will be fertile. The father of the household then throws grains of wheat three times in the indicated direction while saying “That the wheat will grow when summer is born” And all reply: “Amen”.

During Christmas Eve, the girls like to go and listen at the neighbour’s windows and interpret the first words that they hear. The one who hears something like “sit down, stay here” will not marry this year. If however, she hears something that evokes a departure, her heart trembles.

Saint George, who is celebrated by both christians and muslims, is also suitable for consultations. A girl can dig three holes in the ground; if an insect or small animal falls ,during the night into one of them – its number indicates the year of marriage. She can also hold the door knob until she hears a passer-by pronouncing a first name – which will naturally be that of her future spouse. But this technique demands a lot of patience. The night of Saint Guy, she could place under her pillow two pieces of bread and some salt – her future will then appear in a dream. Or, in a more tragic way, at midnight alone, at the bottom of a deserted cul-de-sac she will light two candles next to two mirrors where she will see the image of the person she awaits (to marry).

Other “mancys” or methods of divination seem to be of a more ‘oriental’ origin -if we are able to assign origins to quasi- universal practices. The knowledgable Hodjas have knowledge of astrology and of the numeric and cabalistic value of letters. They know which zodiac sign presides each day of the month, which planet each day of the week and what one should do (and avoid doing) that day (just like the astrologers in some newspapers.) But a more common technique of divination is one which uses beans. It is linked to geomancy and arithmancy.

We weren’t able to photograph the “visitor” while reading the mutton -shoulder but we did manage to capture in our objective a fortune-teller near Bihac who was doing a ‘FAL‘ reading using beans.

This old country woman exercised her art with impressive conviction; the person who had come for a reading was hesitating over a decision he had to make and had come to consult her about this.

She started with some preparatory meditation – as the operation is not only a mechanical one, as well as having the ingenuity to interpret the signs, one must have intuition and a lucid spirit.

Certain metaphysicians think that cards, dice, bones, coffee, etc are just visual supports used when practicing clairvoyance or intuition…

Arab script allows the most varied,decorative combinations. Here, the characters of the prayer should be read clockwise.

Arab script allows the most varied, decorative combinations. Here, the characters of the prayer should be read clockwise.

The client was asked to concentrate on his question while posing the hand (the left hand of course) on a pile of 41 little beans; then to divide this pile into four little piles representing, from right to left the husband, the house and the wife.

The first general indication is given by the figure that is left over from dividing each group into four. Each pile is then divided into three others and then into three more, this then leaves nine piles of each group or 27 little piles of beans varying from 1 to 4 in each pile. Each pile has its own special significance and its position in comparison to the others – this leaves room for a large variety of interpretations. The closer the figure is to four (is this a distant souvenir of a hebrew tetragram?) the more likely the augur is favorable. A perfect result is ‘The hand of Hazrat Fatimah‘ the name of the Mohammed’s daughter who is equally the godmother of the populous and of Fatma. This is a well known lucky charm and is symbolised by the sign of the number five.

coloured beaded bracelets and tattoos from the region of Bihac. The crosses are generally situated in the center of the circle and most often finish with forks, tridents or even hearts.

coloured beaded bracelets and tattoos from the region of Bihac.

The crosses are generally situated in the center of the circle and most often finish with forks, tridents or even hearts.

The Bosnians also have a curious form of divination which can be found throughout the Balkans. This method is also used in the Bourgogne region of France – but also far out into the Sahara desert. One throws a spoon of melted lead in a basin of cold water; this results in a large variety of surprising forms which are interpreted, according to science or fantasy. The predominance of smooth and shiny surfaces is a good sign. If the object has more or less the form of a ship, this would signify a voyage, a cradle a birth… The Bosnians, Christians, Muslims or Jews use this process as a creative tool to heal fear and mental troubles linked to anxiety. An old woman comes to throw the molten lead three times a day during three days, each time she then administers the water to the sick person, rubs their stomach, the right hand and the left foot. The forms in the lead indicate the causes of the fear.

There is also a gracious and poetic divination method of turkish origin. This is especially practiced on Saint Georges day – whom the Muslims call Khidr or Khadir. Imagine a group of joyful young girls united around a vase full of water. Each one throws in a ring, a brooch, or other object which belongs to her. They cover the vase with a veil and one of the young girls will then pull out one of the jewels while the others sing a four lined stanza. The words of this poem can be applied to the owner of the object which was pulled out by chance – haven’t poets always been considered as inspired visionaries?

*POST SCRIPT COMMENTARY*

Like my previous post, I was unable to find any additional information about Jean-Claude Montbarrey apart from other articles which he had written for the review Sciences et Voyages.

Again, I have attempted to remain as true to the original text as possible : the term « civilisation » in this article has a certain precarity about it, the word « savages » to describe tribal people is wholly inaccurate and innapropriate. However my aim is to translate these articles in a way that they remain as close to the original versions as possible and that means to me not glossing over such elements…

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barpurplewrites · 5 years

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Afternoon in Soho

A nice and accurate record of a couple of one book meeting a couple from another. (If she had read these burnt words, mine descendant Anathema, wouldst name these a fanatical fan tail. Know that it is and it is not, for when the butterfly flaps everything comes to be everywhen and where.)

-x-x-x-

Rumple and Belle strolled arm in arm through the streets of London. They had spent the afternoon at the Globe, although Rumple hadn't paid much attention to the play. He'd been far happier watching Belle's reactions, her face a picture of joy and delight at the story unfolding before her, even though she must have read it a dozen times.

“I thought the elephant was a bold choice.”

Rumple blinked, he didn't recalled an elephant. There wasn't even a mention of an elephant in the script, so how had he missed that?

“Erm,” - crossing the road bought him a moment to wrack his brain. Nothing, no memory of an elephant, which would have looked a bit out of place in 'Much Ado About Nothing'. As the reached the curb Belle turned on her heel, moving her hand from the crook of his arm to take his hand. She grinned at him. He sighed and fondly shook his head.

“You're teasing me, sweetheart.”

“A little, you seemed to spend a lot to time looking at me. Did you not enjoy the play?”

He tugged on her hand and pulled her into him. Her free hand came to rest on his chest and he lay his over it; “I enjoyed the play, because I like seeing you so happy.”

She flexed her fingers against his chest, just an echo of how she clawed at him in her passion last night, but enough to send a flare of lust through his body. He almost suggested they head back to the hotel, but Belle had discovered a bookshop in Soho she wanted to take a look at. The place had strange opening hours, not unlike his own shop, one of the many joys of being a sole trader he supposed. He lifted Belle's hand from his chest and pressed a kiss to her fingers.

“Bookshop?”

Belle's face lit up in a grin, gods he could never get enough of that sight. She slipped an arm around his waist.

“Come on, it's not far.”

In his bookshop in Soho, Aziraphale was busying himself with a little dusting. He was expecting Crowley any moment now. The demon had popped to Birmingham to perform a light temptation and a small miracle. Aziraphale would have liked to have won that coin toss. There was a simply wonderful Balti house he adored in Birmingham, and the fantastic farm shop that made brilliant sausage sandwiches. Oh well, maybe next time.

A sudden sensation rippled through his being. Something evil was headed this way. He cocked his head to one side and tapped his feather duster against his hand, scattering the dust back over the shelves. No, not evil as such, but dark, yet contained, contained by love. Aziraphale had never felt a love so deep and true. It made him really quite giddy.

And then love walked in through his door. Arm in arm. Love wrapped so snugly around darkness that he wasn't sure exactly in whom it dwelt.

“Good afternoon.”

A small woman, wearing those tall heels that Crowley had received a commendation from Downstairs for inventing, smiled at him; “Hi, I'm so glad we found you open.”

“We were hoping to have a look around.”

Aziraphale turned his glance to the man. Him, it was in him, whatever this darkness was, he was sure of it. He stood straighter, and gripped his feather duster, not perhaps the best weapon against an unknown darkness, but he was an angel and he would thwart this vile creature.

The women smiled at the vessel of darkness and said; “And maybe buy something?”

“Of course, sweetheart, several somethings I expect.”

The wave of love from the man as he spoke to the woman caused Aziraphale to rock slightly on his feet. Ah, maybe hold off on the thwarting. It appeared that the woman had it under control. But they had mentioned a hideous thing that did need thwarting pronto; buying one or more of his books.

“I stock rather specialized books...”

“Oh I can tell. Is that a first edition of Huckleberry Finn in the window? With the typesetting error?”

All of Aziraphale's well-practised tactics to gently dissuade customers melted away in the face of a genuine, knowledgeable fellow bibliophile. He dropped his feather duster on to a shelf and hurried forward; “Yes, yes it is, in fact it is from the first impression, so it also has the upside down illustration of plate...”

Rumple watched as Belle engaged the store owner, Mr Fell, (although if that was the man's real name Rumple was the Sultan of Agrabah), in enthusiastic conversation. He loved talking books with Belle, not so long ago he would have been jealous to see her share her passion for literature with someone else. He made a mental note to send a thank you letter to Archie. A copy of Dickens' 'A Fairy Tale of Home' caught his eye, or maybe he would just drop a note to Dove to deliver that brass cricket hearth ornament from the pawnshop to the good doctor. Yes, that would work perfectly.

He paused and scratched at his palms. What was causing that? As they had walked into Soho Rumple had become aware of a feeling of evil. He'd figured that it was just the lingering reputation of the area. According to Belle's research Soho had historically been the centre for all manner of vice. Now it appeared to have become home to the kind of raunchy that let people have a thrill without the risk of losing life or limb. Socially acceptable evil wouldn't be making his hands itch.

Rumple took a long hard look at Mr Fell. He wasn't going to judge a man for concealing his true name, he knew the power and weight of a true name better than anyone. This man was a perfect stereotype of a bumbling bookish Brit. It was an act, but there was no threat from him. If anything he radiated a goodness the likes of which Rumple hadn't seen since Snow White was young.

Could it be the books? Mr Fell did say he had a specialized stock. He took a step closer to the nearest bookshelf, and the feeling faded, nothing on this shelf was dangerous. Although he did wince at the copy of 'Barney the Vampire', best keep Belle away from this shelf.

The itching suddenly raced from mild, ignored the stop sign in annoying and intolerable, and skidded to a halt in RUN, RUN NOW!. Rumple found himself reaching for his magic, magic that didn't exist in the quantities it did back home. He could use magic here, but the price tended to be erratic and often left him with a splitting headache. He managed to fight down his flight urge with nothing more to show for it that a few books sliding to one side on the nearest shelf.

Belle's head snapped around, she'd felt his panic. Mr Fell was giving him a curious look as well, but before any questions were asked the shop door burst open.

“Angel! Phew, have you got more books by that Archer bloke? This place reeks of...”

The tall man in black and sunglasses who had just burst through the door slithered to a halt when he spotted Belle. He took a second to swallow whatever he had been about to say and rephrase it.

“... that nasty aftershave the deliver driver wears.”

“Oh hello Crowley, back already, wonderful. Make yourself comfy I'll be with you in a jiffy, or two.”

Rumple needed no magical senses to know for sure there was something other about this man. Were those snake skin boots on his feet? Pfft, poser. Rumple's feet shifted, his fingers flexed, and it wasn't until he glanced at Belle and caught the amused look on her face that he realised he'd started to slip in to what she called his Imp stance. What was he thinking? Why on Earth would he need to intimidate this, this black-clad, flame-topped being? He relaxed and gave Belle a reassuring smile that said he was fine, that everything was fine. Belle blew him a kiss in return and turned back to the book Mr Fell had been showing her.

Once her attention was engaged he fixed the man in black with a stare. If he twitched in Belle's direction it'd be goodbye snake skin, hello snail shell.

Crowley was a bit miffed. He driven to Birmingham, a city whose road network proved that humans could create Hell on Earth without any help from him. He had been supposed to tempt someone in town planning to increase the road works, but after seeing the mess that passed for transport, he'd decided not to bother. He'd put the paperwork in and claim the chaos as a result of his influence, job done as far as Hell knew. Then he'd done the miracle, there would be no trouble from the fans during the next big football match between the top two local teams. Now that would get him into serious trouble if Downstairs found out, they were rather keen on mindless violence. On the drive back he decided to tempt Aziraphale out to the little bar that did those fru-fu cocktails. And what happens, he gets here and gets told to wait a jiffy or two. What in the hell was a 'jiffy'? Looking at Aziraphale he had the feeling that a jiffy was going to turn out to be an hour or two. He was talking to a customer, for pity's sake. He didn't even like customers, they did stupid things like try to buy his books.

With an annoyed huff Crowley turned on his heel and finally spotted the other customer. His tongue flicked between his lips to taste the air. Oh, yeah this man was the source of the evil scent in the air. Interesting, he wasn't one of Hell's. He had a brilliant stare, very intimidating, and that was a real compliment coming from Crowley, he knew stares. This could be fun, he'd not had a decent staring contest since Rasputin.

Rumple kept his gaze steady on Crowley, that was what Mr Fell had called him. He'd heard that name somewhere before and that he couldn't recall where was as irritating as a pip stuck in his teeth. That this Crowley was dangerous and evil wasn't in question, but it was hard to really fear someone when they were trying to out-stare you while wearing sunglasses. When the light hit them right, a tiny glimpse through the smoky lenses gave the impression that Crowley's eyes weren't human, that was a nice touch, but it would take more than reptilian eyes to unsettle him.

At this point an impish idea occurred to Rumple.

From the corner of his eye Rumple could see that Belle and Mr Fell were engrossed in their conversation. Both had their backs turned. The windows of the shop hardly gave a clear view into the shop, so the only witnesses would be two beings who he was ninety per cent certain weren't fully human, and Belle, who knew him and loved him, warts and all. It was hardly magic at all, just giving his body a nudge to recall how it had once been. And, of course, there needed to be a touch of dramatic flair in the reveal, just to show this poser how it was done.

Crowley blew out a sigh when the man dropped his head after a measly three minutes. Great stare, no staying power. Shame. He was about to go and pester Aziraphale when the man shifted his weight. Something about the way his right foot edged forward and his hands moved from his side caught Crowley's attention.

And then he raised his head, and grinned directly at Crowley.

“Woah!” - Crowley whipped off his sunglasses, - “Those are amazing. Totally fuc...”

As Crowley's colourful expletive echoed around the shop, several things happened. It is difficult to understand the order of events unless one can slow time down. So, let's do just that and take it step by step.

First; … we go back a moment … Rumple had just dropped his chin to his chest. In the time it takes for Crowley to express his disappointment via a sigh, Rumple has performed the magic to necessary to remind his brown eyes they were once different ...

Second; … on the other side of the room Belle feels the familiar tang of Rumple's magic in the air. She stammers over the name of a Shakespearian scholar ...

Third; … Aziraphale doesn't notice Belle stammer, but he does feel the swell of the darkness he had identified as residing in her husband ...

Fourth; … Rumple shifts into Imp stance and raises his head ...

Fifth; … Crowley swears and whips off his sunglasses revealing his demonic eyes ...

Sixth; … Rumple blinks at Crowley's eyes and begins to return the compliment the man had given him ...

Seventh; … Aziraphale draws in a shocked breath that he doesn't need, (because he is an Angel), and shouldn't do, (in Crowley's opinion), because doing so makes him look like an eighteenth century grandmother ...

Eighth; … Belle spins around on her skyscraper heels, (not twisting her ankle because she has completely conquered the insane shoes that give her both height and a weapon to use against any one who compares her unfavourably to a dwarf), at this point she also swears, more colourfully than Crowley and in the privacy of her own head so no one comments …

Ninth; … Aziraphale sternly says; “Crowley!” and in the same instant Belle sternly says; “Rumple!” ...

Tenth: … (At this point we can rejoin the normal flow of time. Hold on tight) … Both Crowley and Rumple wince and say …

“He started it!”

Belle and Aziraphale sighed in unison, and in the same synchronicity walked towards their respective men, and asked;

“Did he?”

Snake-like eyes met lizard-like eyes and they both rapidly agree to support each other to get them out of a telling off.

Rumple smiled at Belle; “We were just comparing eyes.”

Crowley nodded; “Yep, that's it, and you two were busy with books and...”

Sensing that Crowley was about to jump into his own mouth with both feet, Rumple quickly said; “...we were just chatting, and well, it's not often either of us met someone else with lizard...”

Crowley butted in; “Snake.”

Rumple hardly missed a beat; “Reptile eyes.”

Aziraphale knew perfectly well that Crowley had been showing off, but no one had been incinerated, so everything was tickety-boo. He turned to Belle, and saw she was having similar thoughts about her Rumple. Between them they came to an accord that could be best summed up as 'let them play, as long as they don't start blowing things up'.

Belle knew perfectly well that Rumple had been showing off, but no one had been turned into a snail, so to her mind everything was fine. She turned to Mr Fell and saw that he was thinking along the same lines as her about his man Crowley. (She doubted he was worried about a sudden snail event, that was Rumple's signature after all). Between them they shared a look of 'yes they are idiots, but they are our idiots'.

Belle caught Rumple's shoulder and pressed a kiss to his cheek, she also whispered in his ear; “Nice to see those eyes again.”

Aziraphale smiled at Crowley; “By some miracle a very good bottle of single malt has just appeared in the back room...”

Crowley folded his sunglasses into his jacket pocket as he leaned in close to softly say; “No worries Angel, I'll keep him occupied while you and Belle geek out.”

In the back room of a Soho bookshop that summer evening, a demon and a fairy tale character drank whiskey, as they waxed lyrical about the book-loving centres of their universes currently in the front of shop, no doubt enthusing about everything author under the sun.

In the front room of a Soho bookshop that summer evening, an angel and a fairy tale character drank whiskey, (Aziraphale had two bottles of the good stuff), as they waxed lyrical about the dark hearts of their existence currently in the back of the shop, no doubt trading tales of every temptation under the sun.

#rumbelle #ineffable husbands #fanfic

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