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rosemaidenvixen · 3 years

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Both Sides of the Sky

Chapter 5: Calling

Ao3

The doors to the front entrance loomed ahead of them. Thick mahogany of solid build, richly carved by very skilled hands. It was clear whoever had first commissioned them must have paid a great deal. But as Claire stepped closer, she was able to notice the countless pockmarks and scars pitting the wood, how they had been so badly warped by the wind and rain that they no longer would hang quite straight.

Not a good harbinger for what lay beyond.

Keeping that thought, among others, to herself, Claire watched as the doors, warped wood catching ever so slightly in the frame, were pulled open. Revealing a grimm faced butler behind them who silently took the card from her father and ushered the three of them inside.

Without turning her head, it wouldn’t do to appear too curious, Claire glanced around at her surroundings. Avalon hall was massive, she had been able to see that much from the outside. But it soon became clear that the state of the front doors was not a unique feature.

Silk curtains that were faded and stained at the edges. Scuff Marks upon scuff marks on the floor from centuries of feet traipsing up and down the corridors. Tarnish creeping around the edges of the candlesticks, giving the silver a rotten appearance. And due to the building’s esteemed age, all the windows were small and far between, the dim light making the hallway feel claustrophobic.

The overall effect was that Avalon hall didn’t feel like a house where living people resided, rather more like an abandoned, decaying ruin from a bygone era that she and her parents were trespassing in.

Fighting very hard to suppress a shudder, Claire followed her parents deeper into the house.

It looked as though the rumors were true, this family may have a lofty and noble history, but they had fallen far indeed. Claire kept her gaze straight ahead and pointedly ignored the peeling wallpaper as they walked further in. Straight into debt by the looks of it.

The butler led them up the main stairs and down a hall on their right, to where someone was waiting for them, before swiftly turning and heading off to complete some other task. Claire had expected Strickler to greet them, as he had on her walks with Jim, but instead they were greeted by his uncle, the venerable Lord Merlin, who was so old Claire half expected him to have powder in his hair.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance Master and Mistress Nuñez,” he politely shook hands with her father before gesturing for them to follow “My nephew is waiting for us in the parlor, let’s not keep them waiting, shall we?”

As they walked he turned and looked Claire straight in the eye, flashing her a grin.

Startled, Claire quickly recovered and managed to return the smile with one of her own.

They’d only gone a short ways when Merlin stepped to the side, opening a door into a smaller small room.

“Please, after you,” the words were intended for all of them, but his gaze was once again locked on Claire. While she supposed most people would be flattered, Claire couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable at the attention, although why she couldn’t say.

Forcing down the cold fluttering in her belly, Claire followed her parents into the room, blinking at the sudden brightness within.

The curtains had been thrown open, filling the room with sunlight and allowing her to see that, mercifully, this space was in much better shape than the rest of the house. Immaculate blue and gold wallpaper, spotless china dishes and sparking silver on oak tables. Couches that looked comfortable and lived in, even if they were a little threadbare.

Claire let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

Strickler was here, and so was Jim, right by his side, both of them standing by a small table holding several teacups filled with steaming brown liquid, two of which he handed over to her father and mother before picking one up himself “So glad you all could make it today, please take a seat. James and I are so happy to have you here,”

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively “He was quite looking forward to this,”

All the adults in the room tittered at that while Claire blushed crimson, across the room she could see Jim’s face turn a similar hue.

Still flushing, she sank into a chair, everyone else following suit. The adults quickly fell into banal conversation concerning the weather and current events. Leaving Claire and James to stare at each other in awkward silence.

She wanted to talk to him. There were half a dozen questions perched on the tip of her tongue. Had he recovered from his tumble in the woods and fall in the river? Who was his mother and why did no one ever speak of her? Did the stone bridge still haunt his dreams the way it did hers?

But despite how much she burned for answers, Claire couldn’t bring herself to speak of those things, not in front of their parents.

It was too….private, personal; and the last thing she wanted was her parents pouncing on those thoughts and picking them apart piece by piece.

Of course there was a chance that Jim felt differently about his family, but the way he also kept his silence made Claire think not.

So here they were. Sitting there mute and bored to tears. Tuning out their families' blathering, Claire allowed her eyes to unfocus, gaze rolling around the room before landing on a sword hanging on the far wall. The blade was dull and the hilt simple, but it was clear that the sword’s true value was in its truly ancient age. She could easily imagine Strickler plucking it from foreign shores during one of his many expeditions.

Unfortunately by now their mutual silence had been noticed.

“James, why don’t you show the young Miss Nuñez our collection,” Claire jolted slightly upon hearing Strickler mention her name “I’m sure she’d find it fascinating,”

James stood from his chair and extend a hand towards her, flashing a smile that was almost convincing “Of course,”

Claire lifted herself up and returned his smile “That sounds delightful,” at least it would be better than sitting in silence. She allowed Jim to lay a hand over her forearm and lead her to the other side of the room.

“This sword is a viking artefact, along with that shield,” he inclined his head to the right “The vase and teapot are from the far east,”

“Very impressive…” Claire nodded along politely, when her attention was captured by a large painting hanging near the corner, a woman wrapped in silver gossamer reclining in a pond. A simple image, but captured in breathtaking detail “What about the painting, right next to the shield?”

“I...don’t know,” Jim glanced back towards the seated adults.

“Nothing much interesting about that one I’m afraid,” Strickler said with a shake of his head “Merely a gift from an old acquaintance,”

Claire’s eyes darted over the ripples and waves captured in shades of blue paint “It’s very lovely, is it an Undine?”

Strickler let out a chuckle, that sounded more than a little patronizing “A naiad actually,”

Despite her best efforts, Claire felt herself flushing at his thinly veiled condescension “What’s the difference?”

“Naiads live exclusively in fresh water whereas Undines aren’t bound to any one form of water. Oceanids live in open seas and nereids live along saltwater shores,”

For a moment the entire room was silent as everyone turned and stared at Jim. He flushed, clearly feeling the weight of their gazes.

Claire felt a grin, the first entirely genuine one of the day, spreading over her face “I didn’t know you were so well versed in mythology,”

“I...um....” Jim glanced over at his father and uncle for help, face a deep red.

Merlin let out a loud laugh, giving his knee a hearty slap “My dear nephew you’re too shy,” he glanced towards her parents “James has always had an avid interest in mythology, we had trouble getting him to put the books down,”

Jim, clearly embarrassed, was blushing a bright scarlet, and couldn’t seem to stop fidgeting under the attention. Meanwhile, even while she sympathized with the scrutiny, Claire was absolutely brimming with delight. Finally something that she and Jim could talk about, at least while they were in mixed company.

Still chortling, Merlin got to his feet “How about I show you two youngsters the library,” he glanced towards her parents “With Master and Mistress Nuñezs’ permission of course,”

Moving so subtly Claire was sure that she was the only one who saw, Ophelia and Javier shared a sly look with each other before turning towards him “We think that sounds delightful,” Javier said, both him and Ophelia positively beaming.

“What do you think of the classical myths?”

“They form the bedrock of literature as we know it and have persevered to the modern age due to their highly advanced themes and ideas,”

Jim’s gaze briefly flickered toward Merlin, sitting in a leather chair in the corner of the library holding a book whose pages he hadn’t turned for nearly an hour, the older man giving him an almost imperceptible nod. Claire pretended not to notice.

She thumbed through the thick book on the table in front of them “One of my favorites is the myth of Tantalus. He tried to trick the gods by feeding them his own son, but they weren’t fooled. They restored his son to life and condemned him to the underworld, with food and water forever just beyond his reach,”

“Oh yes,” he nodded “That is a classic, did you know that’s where the word tantalize comes from?”

Claire did, but she smiled and nodded as if she didn’t, keenly aware of Merlin’s eyes on the two of them.

Like the rest of Avalon hall, the library was old to the point of being ancient, but rather in a cosy sort of way. Mahogany shelves and angled windows giving the room a feeling of warmth. Walls completely lined with books from end to end, supplemented by the occasional freestanding shelf. Most impressive was the collection itself, the largest collection of books Claire had ever seen in her fifteen years. Some published as recently as a year ago, some centuries old; all filling the room with the sweet scents of paper and leather.

At first she’d been excited to discuss literature and folklore with Jim. Both of which were things she very much enjoyed, and hoped that they would be able to build upon a mutual interest. But what Claire hadn’t accounted for was Merlin hovering and ever so subtly correcting Jim when he strayed from what he deemed to be the proper responses. Most of which Claire already knew from her own studies. Making the entire conversation feel dull and rehearsed. Exchanging repetitive answers may be better than silence, but not by much.

Maybe if they wandered off the beaten path a little she could get Jim to tell her his own opinion and not the one his uncle approved of. There was a copy of Bluebeard just across from her, but that didn’t feel quite appropriate right now. She reached over to the far end of the table and pulled a new book with a dusty blue cover towards them “Have you read the Poetic Edda?”

“Yes I have,”

She waited for him to elaborate but he didn’t.

“Thrymskvida is my favorite portion, what do you think of it?”

“Truly a classic piece of Norse myth, although there is debate on whether its origins are Christian or Pagan,”

Well this clearly wasn’t working, time for a different approach.

“What is your favorite Arthurian legend?” she said abruptly, setting the blue book to the side without preamble.

Jim started, clearly caught off guard. He stammered for a few seconds before coming up with an answer “Oh, uh...Sir Gawain and the Green Knight,”

A solid classic, one that she could easily see Lords Strickler and Merlin lecturing him on how it was the best.

“That’s a good one, although I’ve always thought Gawain got away pretty easily considering he broke his word,”

Jim’s amiable expression slipped, sliding into a soft frown “Gawain did keep the scarf the lady gave him, but he could have easily given it to the lord after he let the green knight chop off his head. He wouldn’t have been breaking his word, just stretching it,”

Claire paused, mulling over his words “I suppose that’s true, but Gawain gave his word to give the lord whatever he gained during the day once he got home, not whenever he felt like it. He broke his word, and for that he deserves to be punished,”

“But--”

From the corner of the room Merlin rustled the papers of the book in his lap just loudly enough that it was clearly intentional. Jim shut his jaw with a click.

Claire had to bite her lip, quite hard in fact, to keep from groaning out loud. Just when their conversation was finally starting to get interesting, apparently disagreeing with her trumped what his uncle considered ‘correct’ as far as polite discussion went.

But what was the point of having a conversation if the other person agreed with whatever she said?

Claire had entertained the company of more than a few boys who had agreed with everything she said. Quite frankly she would sooner jump in the river again.

Time for another subject change “My favorite is the Quest for the White Hart,”

Jim nodded slowly, cowed back into meekness by his uncle’s interference “That is a really good one,”

“I enjoyed Pellinore’s quest for Nimue the most, especially at the end when he ends up cursing himself by not helping his daughter and the knight,”

“Really? I always thought that was pretty grim, he was told to let nothing distract him from his quest, he was only following instructions,”

“Doesn’t matter, he could have helped them but he didn’t,”

Jim paused for a bit “Wouldn’t that parallel Gawain’s story then? It’s not about what would be considered fair, it’s about keeping your word,”

Claire felt a smile tugging on her lips, very clever, it looked as though they could have a half decent discussion after all “I guess you have me there,” she pulled the green leather bound tome closer “But while we’re discussing the Green knight, you know how the old woman was really--”

The clock against the wall abruptly started to chime, signaling Merlin to sit up from his chair with a creak “I’m afraid our time together today must come to an end, feel free to keep the book Miss Nuñez, young James can collect it at a later time,”

And by that he was surely referring to when he and Strickler would come to their house with Jim to visit her in one weeks time. Which she knew her parents were no doubt arranging at this moment.

But still, she was disappointed that her time with Jim, however awkward and supervised, was coming to an end...which was not something Claire was accustomed to feeling .

She swallowed the confusing knot of emotion as the two of them followed Merlin out the library and back down towards the parlor, having to force the words out past it “Thank you, I will be sure to keep them in good condition,”

Claire thought that she and Jim would be able to get to know each other better when they weren’t slopping through the wilderness, but as it turned out their families' supervision wasn’t much of an improvement.

And unlike any of the other boys her parents had set her up with Claire wanted to know Jim better. He was genuinely sincere, and while Jim played the role of a nobleman well enough, Claire could sense something more beneath the surface. Like watching the surface of the sea and seeing the shadow of a hidden beast moving deep within.

She eyed the back of his head as they headed down through the gloomy hall.

If Claire wanted to get to know Jim, the real Jim, then she was going to have to get a little more creative.

#tales of arcadia #Trollhunters #fanfic #both sides of the sky #rmvwrites #claire nuñez #ophelia nuñez #javier nuñez #merlin #walter strickler #jim lake jr #Regency AU

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dreamerwriternstargazer · 4 years

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In Defence of Team Purple Lion

Voltron: Legendary Defender and its final season remains as one of the most poorly received children’s shows in the past decade. The show was a reboot from DreamWorks of the popular Voltron franchise owned by WEP LLC (World Event Productions) who were responsible for the first version of the show Voltron: Defender Of The Universe (1984), an adaptation of the anime show GoLion by Toei Animation. It initially started strong when released in 2016, with a premise that of a typical mech-centric kids’ show; 5 pilots of 5 robot lions coming together to form one big robot (Voltron) to fight against a big bad alien villain in space, however despite the formulaic appearance it proved to be a captivating watch with detailed and beautiful animation as well as surprisingly deep subject matter. The themes and messages of the show touched on darker topics such as racism and genocide with the backdrop of a complex portayal of war while still balancing it with the light-hearted and goofy dynamics of the diverse main characters, played by a diverse cast. Produced by Lauren Montgomery and Joaquim Dos Santos, both of whom had worked on the acclaimed Avatar: The Last Airbender and Legend Of Korra, the story set up promised an equally deep and intricate story for VLD as had been the case for ATLA and LoK, as a result the show attracted a large and varied fan base beyond just children, many fans adults eager to see how the story and darker themes would be resolved as well as how the minority representations would be treated.

The final season released on Dec 14th 2018 came as a great shock to fans, not only were they intensely dissatisfied with the ending, virtually no one from any area or sub fandom was happy with the season as a whole and at the time of this article’s writing it has lower than a 6% rating on Rotten Tomatoes. The show and its producers faced massive criticism over insensitive representations of minorities, an unsympathetic and condemning end for an abuse victim despite redemption for their abusers and a disempowering arc for the main woman of colour character in which she was sidelined and dismissed by her male counterparts up until her sacrifice. The core themes and messages of love, forgiveness and acceptance regardless of race were completely subverted, instead conveying to an impressionable Y-7 and above audience the opposite; heritage and race define a person rather than their own actions. As well as fans, many parents of kids who watched the show expressed unhappiness with the final season due to the toxic and regressive messages it sent. Soon after the season dropped a petition emerged to “free the original season 8 of Voltron” due to the belief that the final season was in fact an edited product of what the creators originally planned. This belief was sparked by visual inconsistencies in the season itself, the audio description not lining up with the action on screen (now fixed), one character not being played by her voice actor but her voice actually another character’s with the pitch turned up as well as comments from the cast and animators, now deleted. The strongest claims of edits were made by Tumblr user Leaking Hate in her initial meta Chasing The Ghosts Of Season 8 and the follow up, a more detailed breakdown, Seek Truth In Darkness in which she presented an alternative story that had been edited and cut down for reasons then unknown, with narrative and visual evidence from the season itself to support her argument. She and a few other fans officially came together in February 2019 to form Team Purple Lion, a team of analysts dedicated to finding the truth behind the disaster of the final season. However, since the fandom had had a poor history of harassing the show’s creators over ships (romantic relationships between characters) most attributed the poor story and resolve to an attempt to keep things neutral romantically between characters in a poor bid to please everyone. As a result the petition and campaign were merely linked to lack of shipping satisfaction for the fandom and dismissed as more toxic fandom behaviour that had been displayed previously by many fans.

Petitions and campaigns like these are not uncommon after a show or film’s ending, similar situations might be the HIMYM backlash in which fans were so unhappy with the ending of the show that there was a petition for an alternative ending, as well as the petition to Warner Bros regarding the Snyder Cut of Justice League. Both of these have actually succeeded with the Snyder cut of Justice League set to release in 2021 and the HIMYM DVD box sets containing the alternative ending, however what makes the Free VLD s8 campaign now led by Team Purple Lion unique is its claim that there’s an original finished product that the creators intended for release but was edited after completion to produce the poor final season that was released on Netflix. Often corporate meddling in creative works is common but it has not been documented before as a post production occurrence changing the finished work, it’s always taken place pre-production as was the case with Disney and Colin Trevorrow’s original script for ep. IX or during production, in the case of Justice League and Zak Snyder.

Since the start of the campaign in Dec 2018 there’s been continuous investigation and action taken by TPL to provide proof for their claims and the movement has evolved into a fight for creators’ rights, still active now a year and a half on. Their investigation early on resulted in discovering the IP holder (those who own the trademark) WEP as the ones with control over the show and therefore responsible for the released edited season 8. They’ve since defended DreamWorks and the showrunners from criticism in favour of requesting WEP and specifically President Robert Koplar, self proclaimed “steward of the property” for the original season 8 by the showrunners that was not released. There’s also been strong advocation from TPL to keep the protest against WEP’s interference with the creative team’s work peaceful to avoid dismissal and belittlement due to prior instances of the VLD fandom’s toxic behaviour that often included harassment of showrunners and toxic fan behaviour ranging from abusive remarks online to death threats, after the final season rumours were flying and the EPs faced abuse from upset fans so there was an active effort to stay civil on TPL’s part.

TPL and the #FreeVLDS8 movement has continuously faced criticism and backlash since its start regardless, the response from fellow fans ranging from supportive to downright disbelief and even the showrunners stating publicly [March 28th 2019 Let’s Voltron podcast] that there’s no “alternate cut of Voltron” branding the idea as a “conspiracy theory”. Claims of harassment have been attributed to TPL and the legitimacy of their allegations questioned, one fan questioning the possibility of the edits’ execution as well as others categorizing them as fans creating a theory based on shipping fulfillment. The controversy and consistent campaign a year and a half on interested me greatly, therefore after being led back to the movement by the very comments discrediting them I approached Team Purple Lion for comment on the aforementioned claims as well as conducting my own research and investigation into them. 3 members of the team, Crystal Rebellion, Dragon Of Yang and Leaking Hate spoke to me openly about their campaign and my own research produced some interesting results as well.

The basis of their argument is set on the show’s final season being an edited product, when I asked about what pushed her to this conclusion and writing her initial meta Leaking Hate explained that a mutual friend of Crystal and her’s drew their attention to it through the story saying:

“It’s interesting, nearly ALL of the episodes had a moment or two in them where Lotor [male villain] COULD have reappeared, and didn’t. Do you think he was written in to be the savior all along, and it was the higher ups that said no, good boy Lance [one of the main characters]? It seems like, given the narrative, and even given this season, it should have been Lotura [Lotor and Allura ship name], and all that wasn’t just feels… off. And not as a Lotura stan, I mean in general.”

“And YES I had. There was a narrative gap where Lotor should have fit, but for some reason wasn’t.” Hate said, “The initial conclusion we jumped to was that Lotor had been removed in the writing stage.”

It wasn’t until another friend mentioned a key scene out of place in the story and she went back to view it that she started to suspect the season had been changed from its original state. The scene in question was one in which Lotor says “Follow me!” at the end of Allura’s dream sequence in s8 ep8 Clear Day, despite his death being established before and after this point in the story. “There was no reason for that Follow Me shot to be there,” Hate explained, “unless the action of the viewer following Lotor had been removed.” Having studied a Fine Art degree and therefore well versed in animation and visual art she was able to recognise scenes that had been edited unusually throughout the season once she actively searched for other visual evidence. The Follow Me scene as well as others she found are displayed in her Ghosts meta, all indicating a different story from the one told in the show, along with the evidence Leaking Hate presented some initial ideas on what the story was (a redemption arc for Lotor and several sub arcs for the main characters that resolved their stories and previously set up story beats).

[Image Description: A close up of Prince Lotor’s face from season 8 on Netflix, staring directly out of the picture at the viewer. There are subtitles showing his speech at the bottom of the image, saying “Follow me!” End ID]

After Team Purple Lion’s formation Leaking Hate went on to publish a part two to her initial Ghosts meta, a 21k word meta entitled Seek Truth In Darkness which contained all visual evidence of edits found in the season as well as an extrapolation of the initial story indicated by said edits. The original story appeared to resolve unfinished narratives and arcs that the released s8 dismissed and the treatment of the representations in the show better, from respect towards minorities to an empowering arc for Allura, the main female character. Despite the original season having a more positive story, negative feedback from fans has been more common than positive. When I questioned the team members on it Leaking Hate mentioned “most people who believe we’re wrong tend to think we’re wrong in our premise” Dragon of Yang confirming that “it’s usually the premise of “VLD was edited after completion” that people disagree with”. However the screenshots they present as visual evidence hint at some truth in their argument, the first screen cap shown below indicative of some poor edits made to the animation since 3 characters are essentially cropped out of the picture.

Likewise this screen cap shows a split screen visually unbalanced with 2 characters at the bottom partially cropped out as well as the character on the left side with a much larger screen space than the other characters.

[Image description: A split screen from season 8 on Netflix, featuring from left to right: top left Shiro, below him is Keith in a larger section and Allura in a small triangular section below and to the right of Keith’s section. In the middle is a section showing Honerva’s mech stabbing the Voltron-Atlas mech with purple lightning shooting out. On the top right is Hunk, below him is Pidge, and below her the top half of Lance’s face. End ID]

Seasons prior to the final had always had visually balanced split screens with each character centred in their frames appropriately, indicating these and other s8 shots like them as an anomaly.

Hate reconstructed both screencaps based on what she believed they were originally:

[Image description: A split-screen from season 8 on Netflix, featuring from left to right: an Altean pilot, Merla, Keith, Hunk’s shoulder, Pidge, the top half of Allura’s face, and the top half of Lance’s face. On the top, right, and bottom of this screencap is dark pink background with the black lines of the split-screen extending to the edges of the colors, marking out where the rest of Hunk, Allura, and Lance should be visible if the view had not been cropped. With the lines extending out, Keith’s portion of the screen is also extended, leaving a completely removed section of the split-screen remaining, which is highlighted purple in this image. End ID]

[Image description: A split-screen from season 8 on Netflix, featuring from left to right: top left Shiro, below him is Keith, below and to the right of Keith is Allura in a small triangle section, the bottom of her face slightly cut off. In the middle is a section showing Honerva’s mech stabbing the Voltron-Atlas mech with purple lightning shooting out. On the top right is Hunk, below him is Pidge, and below her the top half of Lance’s face. On the left, right and bottom of the screencap is a dark pink background with the black lines of the split-screen extending to the edge of the colours, marking out where the rest of Lance and Allura should be visible if the view had not been cropped. Keith’s portion of the screen is smaller and a small dark pink section to the right separates his portion from the middle. Below him where his portion originally extended to is a section coloured dark purple that extends a little further to the left of Allura’s portion. End ID]

Other noticeable examples include scenes with the female lead Allura where her proportions do not match with any prior drawings of herself indicating that she was another character redrawn, Leaking Hate suggested Lotor as his proportions fit each instance.

[Image description: 2 pictures of Allura in the Blue Lion from a front and centre angle side by side. On the left Allura has her eyes closed and her arms stretched out holding onto the controls, the entire cockpit is glowing blue. On the right Allura’s eyes are open with a determined look on her face, she’s slightly hunched with her arms gripping the controls, the cockpit is coloured normally. End ID]

The image on the left is of Allura from s8 ep13 and the one on the right from the same episode a few minutes later, scaled so the interiors (which are unchanging 3D models) are the same size. She is notably taller in the one on the right with her head reaching above the seat and her frame bigger, with wider shoulders and thighs.

These are just a few out of the many examples of edits made that Leaking Hate presents in her metas along with her reconstruction of the original season based on what each edit indicates. While the reconstruction is to some point subjective, the visual inconsistencies are clear and can be easily checked by watching the show at each point said to be edited.

The timeframe and possibility for the edits’ execution, called into question by a fan on a twitter thread (now deleted) stating “it’s not physically possible to make that many edits in 2 months and with leftover budget”, was also addressed by the team and their work. Leaking Hate clarified that “it wasn’t 2 months” that they took place in, “it was 6. The edits began in mid July”, a fact determined by voice actor Jeremy Shada mentioning in an interview released on July 23rd that he had gone in to record new lines at the time. Hate also said, “It’s less of a question of would they have time than it is, well. They did do it. It was nearly impossible. But the fact that it is done shows that they did.” She went on, “I think people misunderstand when we claim it was ‘edited’. They hear “it was reanimated”, but it wasn’t reanimated. There is NO new animation in the edited s8 at all. As far as I can tell, 99% of the edits are composed of tracing, clever cuts and sleight of hand.” This is backed up by all the visual evidence they present as well as their work, claiming absence of animation (making the story disjointed and incoherent in places) rather than new, additional animation changing it.

Crystal Rebellion added, “One thing that strikes us (I feel pretty confident speaking for everyone in this case) is that Studio Mir [responsible for animating the show] is impeccably flawless with their work. Their previous work before Voltron: Legendary Defender, and even Seasons 1-6 and most of 7 are beautifully animated. Stunning. Season 8... is not. Studio Mir also had a viewing party for VLD: S8 - and they reported that they loved the final product; so the animators saw Season 8 after it was completed. The season, however, that aired, was really shoddy animation, rough transitions, music mistakes, and what appear to be alterations to still images - it isn't their usual quality of work, and moreover, the animators have stated that they don't recognize what aired. Often we've been asked something like 'Maybe they just didn't know what scenes they were animating' or 'Didn't know the intended finished product' but in this case, it is documented that they saw the final season and that it's different from what was aired. The poor workmanship in what we see from S8 - all the edits Hate goes through to find and explain, coupled with Mir's disbelief, is indicative that the animation studio had no idea this happened. That means it 1) Happened post-production and 2) It wasn't the Studio that changed anything. Dos Santos mentions in an interview [March 4th ABTV] that they were cut and pasting mouths and moving frames around - no time, no budget, and no staff left. It was all them, after it had been completed - after Mir had seen the original rendition and loved it, that all this happened. The parallel point to that to further support it is, had this been written in the script from the beginning, we would've seen a flawlessly animated season with a painful storyline. We don't see that.”

Although Mir’s reaction to the season they viewed in October (before its official drop) has since been deleted, one animator’s response to the season 8 that was released on Netflix is still online, comparing the show to a house and stating that “every single brick of the last season is very upsetting” but “everything else is good” (translation can be found here), making it clear he was not pleased with the final product. Joaquim Dos Santos does also mention in the interview Crystal references that changes were made to season 8 after season 7 dropped, stating, “You can probably see it in the animation. If you really pay attention it’s like, it’s literally our editor cutting out mouths and puppeting different dialogue.” It’s documented that the epilogue was added to s8 late after s7 dropped however it does not have any dialogue, this statement paired with Shada’s about “still recording on Voltron” begs the question, what change was made besides the epilogue? Hate shows in her Darkness meta that Shada’s character Lance was used to replace Lotor as well as Allura in key scenes, if Shada was still recording lines (unusual since audio recording is done very early in animation production) then it would have been for these moments.

Not all criticism has been based on the editing premise however; the story they present as the original has garnered negative comments as well since it featured Lotor, a divisive character due to his moral ambiguity and previous condemnation as a killer, and predominantly focused on his redemption as well as relationship with Allura. The narrative makes it clear that Lance, the blue paladin and one of the main characters popular with fans, would not have been the focus as he was in the released season and would have been replaced by Lotor as Allura’s partner. When I brought up the claims of bias in their reconstruction Leaking Hate pondered on it.

“Do I love the story because it is Lotura, or do I love Lotura because the story makes me love it?” she mused, “I think it's all the same. I was able to pick out the original story because of my bias in favour of Lotor, Allura, and Lotura. Had I not been invested in those characters, and that ship, I would have had no reason to look. I am not reconstructing based on wish fulfillment, or what I want to see,” she asserted, “but the story I am finding happens to be a story that I love.” In regards to Lance and her analysis on him she stated bluntly, “I HATE Lance. Were I reconstructing based on wish fulfillment I would have him alone and miserable. But that is not a good story. The real story of OGS8 has Lance coming to love himself and to learn to accept Allura's friendship as equally worthy as her romantic affection. It has him grow into a good man, and it has him become Allura's right hand when he helps her save the man she loves. It is an uplifting and wholesome message for little boys and grown men alike. And I think it is equally important that we save S8 for Lance as it is that we save it for Lotor and Allura.” When I mentioned that some would find her dislike of Lance an argument against her she also added that “they are right to.”

“I would not trust someone claiming to have found the 'real' story if I knew they hated Lotor or Allura.” However she admitted, “I don't hate him all the time. I think, if the Lance we get in OGS8 is the Lance I believe is there, then I will find him tolerable, if irritating.”

While it’s true that Hate is critical of Lance and his character, the reconstructed story she presents in Seek Truth does reflect her words, giving him an empowering and sympathetic arc growing from his previous immature and womanising character into a selfless, respectful friend. The team have also put their efforts into creating and realising the story in their reconstruction of the original s8, Rise and Atone, and so far it has stayed true to what they’ve promised, addressing characters and their arcs, the only deviation made being a romance free conclusion in a bid to stay ship-neutral. Dragon of Yang explained the narrative decisions they made with R&A stating clearly, “If this was wish fulfillment, we would have stopped at one detail or another. Every character’s arc was halted and destroyed beyond reconciliation or catharsis. Every character deserves their story to be done justice, and open-endings give that catharsis VLD originally had while remaining respectful to everyone’s shipping preferences. VLD is a story of hope and growth, to deny that a character has grown since day 1 is to deny that there is a story there to be told, and that in turn denies a person out there - who likely identifies with that character - the feeling of being seen. The best thing we can do as scholars and as activists,” she concluded, “is try to recreate the vision the staff had originally made and do so with care and attention to the work they put into every line.”

As for the harassment claims attributed to Team Purple Lion by both fans and The Voltron Store on twitter, there’s not much to support them, and in fact a great deal to disprove them. The team has maintained a level of professionalism in both their work and in their conduct online, consistently citing sources and providing proof for claims as well as campaigning respectfully. Hate commented, “they seem to be conflating our protest with the general hatred being thrown around in the fandom. We've made a point to emphasize polite but firm protest and advocate reaching out through official channels.” While there is a lot of anger and hate from fans towards the show and the producers, none of it has been from Team Purple Lion. Their protest has continuously avoided and often defended the producers and voice actors, who have been regularly attacked by other fans during the show’s airing and since due to the poor conclusion, all of whom TPL have made clear are under NDAs and cannot comment freely (although it’s worth noting, they stopped actively promoting the show on their social media after the season 8 release). Instead their questioning has focused on WEP, the company who own the Voltron trademark, after discovering through a meta analysis of a VLD episode signs that they were meddling with the creators’ vision of the show and ordered them to change it against the producers’ wishes. While it was only a speculative piece, WEP’s quick reaction to the release of said meta by claiming through their Voltron Store twitter that they “do not have any influence over the creative direction of the show” despite ignoring fans for months after the season release suggests some truth to it. Twitter user Eros compiled all evidence of their involvement since then in a Twitter thread and the majority of it is damning, their denial directly contradicting statements from the voice actors and producers prior to and after s8 that confirmed they were the controlling party and had creative input, as well as the creators’ desire to tell a progressive and empowering story however not being able to because of “other controlling parties” outside of DreamWorks. WEP have also made contradictory statements to fans about the season, saying that “nothing was edited” yet agreeing with a fan that a lot was left out and a director’s cut would sell well, as well as mocking another who left a Facebook review (March 16th 2019) complaining of being hung up on, replying to them that an “imposter” answered their phones:

[Image description: A facebook review of The Voltron Store. Text from the top reads as:

Reviewer (name coloured out) doesn’t recommend The Voltron Store.

Review reads: Terrible customer service. They literally hung up on me mid sentence and it was clearly not a case of a call accidentally being dropped. Extremely disappointed by the lack of professionalism!

The Voltron Store’s reply to the reviewer: if you actually talked to us you would find we are very nice people! And we never hang up on anybody EVER - unless they make outrageous claims like Power Rangers is better than Voltron!

The reviewer’s reply: The Voltron Store I did speak to a woman who identified herself Stephanie briefly, but I will never speak to your company again. Thank you for the response but I don't appreciate being called a liar. Please see the attached screenshot for proof of my abruptly ended call back in January. I desire to have no further communication with your company now, I simply decided finally other people deserved to know my personal experience.

Below is a screenshot showing the reviewer called The Voltron Store’s number.

The Voltron Store replied: We do not have a Stephanie here. That must be the issue: you dealt with an imposter! We would review the security cam footage but it does not go back 2 months. End ID.]

In stark contrast to WEP, Team Purple Lion has responded to criticism and addressed it, as well as reaching out to media outlets to clarify and correct poorly sourced claims, however have been faced with no response. Their questioning of WEP and their requests for the original season 8 on social media have been civil; their replies to the Voltron Store posts on Twitter containing no insults or cruel remarks, the harshest only critiques on the company’s lack of tact promoting a show and its merchandise that many considered offensive and toxic due to the last season. “At no point did we set out as some kind of campaign to “attack WEP” or “demand a new season”,” Crystal Rebellion said. “We were a handful of people looking at what amounted to, to use a metaphor, a puzzle that had technically been assembled but most of the pieces didn’t match up properly. We eventually decided to take the pieces that didn’t line up and look at what the picture was supposed to be. There was no ulterior motive - we just wanted the truth. When we realised the truth and it became obvious early on that Mir had seen the original season, we became convinced there was an unedited s8, perhaps in Mir’s backup drives. People saw it, which means it was a completed product, so it became a campaign to ask for it, it’s what the fandom wants, it’s what is profitable.”

In the face of all the negative response and disbelief, Team Purple Lion have gathered an overwhelming amount of evidence to support their case, not only from the show itself but also corroborating statements from the production team and cast as well as WEP’s conduct in response to the campaign. As a result TPL have gained a great amount of support and followers from the Voltron fandom, and are still gaining more a year and a half later. “I gotta give a shout out to Cosmic Royalty,” Leaking Hate said, “a group of Russian fans who reached out to us asking if they could do translations of our work. We host their translations on our website now and there’s apparently a group 500 strong on the Russian social media site VK that supports the work we do together!” Violet Howler on Tumblr has also been a big supporter as well as new fans, recently revealing themselves in the wake of good news, the fight to get the original season seemingly won as Leaking Hate displayed in her most recent meta. In it Hate outlines evidence for the franchise’s ownership changing hands from WEP to DreamWorks and therefore the release of the original season, based on the recent repromotion of the show through articles, new merchandise from the store and the new store designs that all suggest the release, since there would be no other reason to promote a show that was a PR disaster, so universally hated. Regardless of all the opposition and discredit they have faced, confirmation of the truth of Voltron’s original season 8’s fate is expected this summer before the official art book is made available, in the form of the season’s release itself. Whether the fans will be happy with it is another story, however Leaking Hate emphasised firmly that fan satisfaction was not the point, or at least not entirely. “Nothing is perfect, and nothing will please everyone. Especially a show like VLD, with almost 35 years of legacy and fans behind it. There are people who will not like the original season, there are even some who will prefer the edited one - I’m sure the WEP executives are some of them. But it will be the season it was supposed to be, the one that was a labour of love. There is so much love and care poured into every frame of VLD, this was a story that the people working on it wanted to tell; it was more than just a job to them. It was created with love, and it was with love that we fought for it, and when it comes down to it that’s what VLD’s meta narrative was about: love.”

#articles #fandom #fandom culture #team purple lion #voltron #voltron legendary defender #vld fandom #freevlds8 #dreamworks

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fmdtaeyongarchive · 4 years

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↬ the meaning you hold in your eyes, i could write a few poems on them.

date: october 2019 & february 2020.

location: ash’s apartment studio.

word count: 2,197 words, excluding lyrics.

summary: n/a.

triggers: mentions of alcohol as is way too common in ash’s verifications.

notes: creative claims verification. if any of this sounds familiar, no it doesn’t. (some parts of this are reworked from a different verification i did last year for a song that never happened because it fit this one too and i refuse to waste the time i put into that.)

october 2019.

he’d done this whole thing before several times while working on the album that will be coming out any day now and it would be easier this time. or rather, that was what ash told himself he’d be saying when it was all over. it hadn’t been just once, in truth. there were multiple songs written now that had been put into consideration for the first half of the track list of the album ⁠— the sensual and passionate half⁠ — but this wasn’t for that half of the album, or that album at all. the tracklist had been finalized long ago, but, in many ways, he was still hung up on the dissatisfaction that had crept in. so many songs for the album had been discarded and while it never quite felt good to have something he’d worked so hard on dubbed unsatisfactory, he’s still holding on to the lingering remnants of the phase where rejection made him more driven to create something that wouldn’t be turned down. a few more ‘no’s and he might reach his breaking point and want to give up entirely on catering to everything the company wanted, but for now, he was slowly settling in to the new challenge of writing outside of his standard comfort zone.

he’d written sensual songs before, but they were always manageable in their softness. that was the easiest lens for ash to view his own intimate experiences through, but bc had continued to demand something more aggressive, more bold, and ash hadn’t nailed down exactly how he was supposed to wrangle that yet and still remain true to himself.

he’d been surprised his album had ended up being confirmed for release at all with all the difficulties he’d had writing it and he still wasn’t sure what the turning point was where bc decided this was a sure thing. it may have been ash showing his ability to write what they wanted or it may have been a look into the expected profits for the rest of the year. understanding how bc’s employees’ collective minds worked wasn’t an easy feat, and ash had bigger fish to fry. namely, a fish in the form of making a song he didn’t have to worry about getting on the album that would calm the nagging in the back of his head that the company had found his weakness. successfully making one or two songs to please bc’s sexier image desires for fatalism hadn’t made ash an expert on the form yet, but he had learned ways to make it easier on himself than the stress he’d inflicted on himself and the worry he’d experienced when bc’s demands were still new to him. one of those ways was to start with a beat. that wasn’t a frequent necessity when he was shaping out a piano ballad or a folk guitar track, but if it was going to be danced to, it needed a good beat. any good dancer could tell him that the beat was a critical part of a song and, at one point in time, ash would have considered himself a good dancer himself. these days he was more like the leftovers of what was formerly a passionate dancer. he could never rid himself of the years as of technique training and the plentiful experience on stage and in a dance studio, but when he was merely going through the motions ninety percent of the time, it felt like he’d faltered since debut in some way. the worry about the bc-approved choreography for his second title track already had him on edge with concerns he’d be called out for laziness again, his mistakes becoming more glaring when he was the center of attention instead of being able to hide among a group.

that could be worried about later. it wasn’t the concern at hand at the moment.

right now, the song was what was most important and the beat was coming together nicely. it wasn’t all that unique in execution, but he intended the sexiness to lay in the instrumental more than the lyrics themselves. he layered some more interesting percussion into what he envisioned as the chorus as he built more musical lines on top of the foundation to construct a more full song than the basic outline of something sexy.

he started with the main attraction, the chorus, and built out musically into the verses, the bridge, and, at first, the song also included what he had at the time decided would probably be a dance break when the song became a full-fledged performance.

as he worked, he built the song to be reminiscent of the songs he’d watched performance recordings of when he was younger. american r&b in the nineties and early two thousands had been secondary to the flashy dance performances of pop legends and trendy boy bands of the decade of his birth for much of his youth, if only because his young brain wasn’t ready for the more mature topics and sounds many of the best songs of the time had utilized. still, though, anything with a good voice, a good beat, and an eye-catching dance routine would have little ash’s eyes glued to the tv screen.

ash had never considered too much where his interest in performing had come from. according to his parents, he’d been dancing and singing since he could walk and talk despite neither of his parents being all that inclined toward the performance arts. if he thought about it now, he thought he might owe much of that to all of the awe-inspiring stage performances he’d been exposed to growing up. at such a young age, he couldn’t fully grasp the heartthrob appeal of the young adult men dancing on stage to a thumping back beat or the pretty girls who only needed a stage and a spotlight to shine. he hadn’t wanted to be admired or longed for. he’d wanted to perform and be able to captivate a crowd the same way the music icons he’d seen growing up had.

that might be a better way to approach this.

ash took a break from writing to revisit a self-curated playlist of his favorite r&b songs spanning the best eras of the genre before he returned to fleshing out the song’s instrumental layers. it was becoming a good track by pure pop writing measure, but it was also becoming apparent something was missing when he set his sights solely on a replication of the nostalgia that other performers brought. being brought back to one’s younger days wasn’t exactly what was going to inspire the type of storytelling environment that had ash was aiming for. ash reminded himself that the song was supposed to have the musical themes suggesting intimacy that the lyrics suggested wasn’t entirely there yet on a conscious level. lust didn’t have to be presented as unromantic to be there, and it wasn’t always as black and white as sex. ash had met the beginnings of many a physical relationship, and the unintentional mind games and the questions were as much a part of the spark of something new as physical touch could

when viewed through the eyes of the adult he now was, those performances he’d watched as a kid had often been alluring in a seductive nature. often times, the words had danced around the literal, kept poetic for the romanticism of it. he’d written that exact kind of romance before, and the honey-tongued poetry he knew himself capable of didn’t have to disappear because he was working with a beat-driven r&b track instead of a rolling acoustic guitar instrumental.

making the instrumental had only taken ash a few weeks of work, but when it came time to put words to it, everything he wrote out only sounded shallow and forced. eventually, he was so stalled that he chose to switch into writing in english to see if a change of language would bring anything new out. he found words for most of the song that way, but they still felt disjointed and, if he were to be honest with himself, embarrassingly try-hard. the only thing that really stood out to him was the water themes he’d come up with, comparing the desire to get to know someone better to taking a deep dive underwater.

he reached out to a few close friends and work colleagues for advice, but nothing set him on the path to anything that could satisfy his perfectionist mind. he remembered being told once that if he was struggling with how to write a feeling, he should ask himself how he’d tell someone else to write it.

if you’re having trouble writing about desire, start with the basis of it all. a feeling. a desire. a question. nothing else. capture those feelings in the lyrics. desire at its best is simple. don’t overcomplicate it.

that gives him an intro that matches the beat well, but he grows stuck again after that, racing at top speed down the path to overcomplicating once again and, with time, he stops coming back to the song.

briefly, he considered trying to sell the instrumental off or asking someone else to write lyrics for him so he could present a full package to whoever he shopped it around to. deleting it off of his computer had been another option. he wasn’t confident enough in his abilities as a producer yet to believe his songs were of much value without his lyrics attached. this one had been created to prove something to himself, anyway, so what use would it be if it had to be finished by someone else?

february 2020.

the song has been abandoned in his files for months when he suddenly recalled it and, out of nowhere, suitable lyrics finally began to form themselves in his head. it was late and he’d had a bit to drink after returning home after a long day. valentine’s day was quickly approaching and it would be the first one he’d be spending alone since his scandal. a few vodka shots had seemed the fitting way to forget that.

tipsiness hadn’t been able to keep him out of his studio though and he’d sloughed into his chair as the black hood of his hoodie slipped off of the crown of his head onto his back, on a mission to get some work done before his head started hurting too badly. fifteen minutes into the mission, he had a loose leaf sheet of paper dotted with various phrases, most of which had something to do with the dark bubbly liquid poisoning his veins at that exact moment, but they mixed with lyrics fitting with the aquatic theme he’d come up with a few months prior, shaken loose from his mind by the ever-prying fingers of vodka.

it's like i'm drunk try mixing in another another blue sapphire let me know if there's an island for me in your sea it's like i'll explode the blue spreads through all of me if you want, you can fall into me

drunkenness and desire weren’t so different, he figured, as someone who’d gotten himself in trouble based off of both of those feelings before. his train of thought wasn’t very clear as he worked the rest of the song out, his thoughts veering into the safety of romance-colored interest, but his work came out in large chunks that gave him hope it wouldn’t be hopeless when he came back to it sober.

when he did come back to the lyrics a day later, more sober and once the hangover had passed. while some of it was painfully clear in being the ramblings of a man under the influence, he’d gotten enough of a start in his state of lowered inhibitions for a less affected ash to fine tune the vocabulary and carefully round the edges into something more consumable, more seductive r&b ballad and less messy musings of an uninhibited might. it might not be the magnum opus of his lyrical career, but it wasn’t bad for such a highly metaphorical song written under the influence. it didn’t push ash too far outside of the walls of his comfort that had already done enough expanding while he worked on fatalism, and some cliches and over-bluntness had slithered into the lines, but it made the tone cheeky instead of taking itself too seriously, as ash was terribly prone to doing.

in a lot of ways, it reminded him of the song he’d written earlier in the month and turned in for his spring release. while woo ah had been colored pink in his mind, this was drenched in blues and purples, and even though he’d needed to drown himself in liquor to finish both of them, this one didn’t tie his stomach up into knots if he listened to it too many times in a row.

this one is a song about the desire, and maybe a little bit of frustration, of a new beginning and ash hadn’t felt that in years now. from that alone, it should have been harder to write, but the distance from the feeling might very well be what made it so easy to write about without ending up a mess by the time he was finished.

but, for some reason, it didn’t feel as distant as he thought it should.

#fmdverification #alcohol tw #&& when you're screaming but they only hear you whisper | self para #&& bring color to my skies | character development #&& queued

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bleedpure · 5 years

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mark lee vc: LEZ GEDDIT ! i’m al or ally, i’m nineteen, i’m in the cst timezone aka the midwest, so u know what that means ! it sucks ! i don’t even know how to transition out of that. i’m so bad at talking about myself, so i think we’re just gonna not do that....... we’ll talk about seulki instead, which i can assure u he’s 100% more interesting than i will ever be ! u can find his info under the cut and if u wanna plot hit that like button and i’ll come to u or u can hit me up on d*scord ( which i would love tbh bc it’s easier than tumblr ims ) @ the jonas brothers did that#7625. okay, onto the intro !

- ̗̀✰ • 【 LEE MINHO, CISMALE, HE/HIM 】 ❝ did you see KIM SEULKI on the train back to hogwarts? they’re a HALF-BREED (VAMPIRE) in their THIRD year as a TWENTY year old RAVENCLAW. apparently they’re the ENIGMA around the grounds; most likely because they give off an aura of DROPLETS OF CRIMSON LIQUID DRIPPING OFF PEARLY WHITE FANGS, FORM FITTING JEANS THAT HUG JUST THE RIGHT SPOTS, HEART SHAPED LIPS CURLING INTO A DEVILISH SMILE, THE FEELING OF A PIANO PLAYING EERILY IN THE ROOM NEXT DOOR. of all the social media platforms, they’re definitely most obsessed with their INSTAGRAM; probably because they’re ELOQUENT, but also MANIPULATIVE. however, on the new manifest app in mr. carlos’ english class, they’ve already managed to anonymously steal the username: BLOODLUST.

ALSO ! if u want a better look at him, u can check out his pinterest board here ( follow me too that’d be so sexy of u ) !

information.

i’m gonna just do this in bullet points bc i’m lazy and have had a really long week so if it’s choppy.... i am so sorry u are just gonna have to deal w it KMSKSMK

seulki was born in seoul, south korea to a kang insoo, a wizard man, and kim eunbin, a vampire woman, seulki himself being her first born

he doesn’t remember much of his own father, the only image he has of him is his bloodied corpse after his mother ripped his throat out when he was five years old

she was a cruel woman is what he had learned from that moment on

most half-breeds are misunderstood creatures, but the kim line of vampires were the monsters they told u abt in horror stories, the ones that hid under ur bed and took u from ur room in the depths of the night

being descendants of vlad the impaler, yes he really was a vampire!, had death and destruction lacing through their veins, darkness and deceit wrapping around their bodies

growing up, he watched his mother give birth to three more children, all of which were full fledged vampires, unlike himself

at first, he never let it bother him, he was raised up to be a vampire, to let the magic gene within him go dormant. he fed off humans and shed the blood of other’s with the influence of his mother, but even being her puppet was never enough for her

secretly, she had always resented her falling in love with a wizard, a human, someone that wasn’t of their own kind. because she did actually fall in love with him, only to be blindsided by her own family, a powerful clan of vampires pulling who she was and who she had always been out of her

because of the resentment matted in between her bones, the anger and frustration of her family ruining her life, of insoo ruining her life, she began to see the human traits within seulki even more often than not, creating a drift and a barrier between the two of them

seulki was the eldest brother, the one who took it upon himself to help raise them, to protect them, to never let their bright souls be diminished by the thought that they were monsters. they loved him and he loved them, but his mother didn’t like that

she didn’t like how they cared for each other because they cared for each other more than they cared for her. she was selfish, wanting the love she never was able to receive, wanted to feel smth for all that she didn’t

his mother hadn’t been fond of him for a while, only using him to do her bidding and while him and his siblings got closer and closer, she got angrier, knowing that they were each others’ heartbeats and she wasn’t included in that

so because of her selfish and deranged nature, she wanted to eliminate her younger children to cause torment to seulki. ganging up on the children one night with the intent to kill them, but she didn’t get as far as she wanted to

she severely injured her second oldest, giving a few scratches the the other’s before seulki came in, eyes black and charging towards his mother. it was a bloodbath after that, the two youngest pulling their sister to safety as they called for seulki

their cries and calls snapped him out of his loss of humanity and in front of him was his injured, but not dead mother unconscious. it was then that he took his chance, packing whatever he could that was valuable and fled with his siblings

they spent time spent a long time running, bouncing from city to city more bloodshed falling onto seulki’s hands to protect the only people he held dear to him and he would do anything for them.

he struggled a lot actually with maintaining his humanity as it would slip from time to time due to the trauma even if he had his siblings to tether him down. at some point, seulki, while strong, felt himself getting exhausted from being on the run and it was when they’d found themselves in scotland being found by hagrid of all people offering seulki a place at hogwarts and his siblings a place in his hut

at first, seulki declined, not fully trusting the man with his siblings even though he would be right in the castle near by. but, after some thought and the push of the second oldest, they accepted the offer and seulki’s been attending hogwarts since he was eighteen and his siblings have found a residence with hagrid

tidbits.

he ages like a normal human up until he’s twenty-one when he quits aging and begins the phase of immortality.

seulki can and will drink blood to survive, but if he goes without it it’s not detrimental to him until he quits aging altogether which means he can eat regular food, he actually quite enjoys it.

he has fangs, he can go out into sunlight, but not for an excessive amount of time or he’ll get a rash. seulki does have inhuman speed and strength, but nothing overpowering u know? when he loses his humanity, his eyes go full black and when the vampire takes him over, his eyes are red, and his regular eye color is brown.

losing his humanity means he loses his heartbeat, most of the time either due to losing the things or people that make his heart beat or from intense and severe anger or negative emotions such as the like. though, it can be voluntarily done as well by switching it off ( kind of like tvd . . . fucking disgusting ). but, seulki being only half-vampire has an easier time, unlike his siblings, to regain his heartbeat back and for his humanity to fluctuate when it’s lost because of his human side. his siblings are his heartbeats actually, so that’s where the intense need to protect them comes from as well as just being their brother.

seulki is a Big Bi ! loves it fucking all.

he’s not super great at magic since his magic gene was pretty dormant until he came to hogwarts, so he’s pretty much just skirting by at this point.

his siblings mean the world to him, he would do absolutely anything for them and wouldn’t let a single person harm a hair on their heads. but ! no one knows they exist, though i’m sure if there were special people in his life they might !

while he sleeps around a lot . . . he’s a secret romantic. he’s always wanted to find love, but it way too terrified of it.

oh yeah he has a blood kink............ that’s important ig

personality.

seulki is definitely an interesting person. he’s wise and intelligent, having been through a lot in his life. he’s eloquent and good with his words, most would call him honey-tongued because of how he can persuade almost anyone to do what he says. seulki is kind of a dick or well, like a suave dick. he’s charming and flirty, his signature is a smirk and like arms crossed as he leans against a doorway u know? seulki is uh. how do i put this? kind of a whore. he doesn’t tend to care about others which is deep rooted in the fact that he’s never felt real love . . . his own mother hated him to the core. he’s overprotective of the people he cares about and will do absolutely anything for them. he’s an ass if i didn’t mention that before, it’s to protect himself and his siblings from ever being hurt again because he’s so terrified of letting people in for them to just tear him down in the process. he’s guarded and u never know what he’s thinking because he doesn’t show it on his face or let u know. UH I DON’T KNOW WHAT ELSE TO SAY MY BRAIN DOESN’T WORK............ he’s p manipulative............. uh he cares a lot. but deep down and he doesn’t want ppl to know that........... he’s definitely a Big Brother type when he cares abt u, makes sure u’ve eaten, makes sure ur warm and are comfortable....... yeah idk that’s it i’m done

wanted plots.

A HEARTBEAT ! — whether platonic or romantic, this would be someone who, just like seulki’s siblings, makes his heart beat thus keeping his humanity in check, they would be a WHOLE, WHOLE lot to him.

A TUTOR ! — as i mentioned earlier, seulki isn’t super well versed when it comes to magic, he’s not very good at it and it’s hard for him to navigate sometimes, so having someone to help him get his mf grades up would be lovely !

AN EX ! — obviously, this didn’t go down well because seulki is terrified of commitment and people getting close to him. it could play out in so many ways, so if it sparks ur interest we can chat !

A ROOMMATE ! — so which sucker is gonna have to live with the vampire who has a blood kink ?

A BEST FRIEND ! — obviously this is pretty self explanatory, this would be someone that seulki trusts with probably his life and they mean a lot to him, even if he’s bad at showing it.

LOVE/HATE ! — bruh give me that good shit. these two can’t stand each other, but because of that it’s formed some sort of fondness where if anyone is messing with the other they’re like who tf are u that’s my job !

A BAD INFLUENCE / GOOD INFLUENCE ! — self explantory . . . someone be a good influence for seulki and let him be a bad influence for someone else.

AN UNREQUITED CRUSH ! — my friend gave me the idea to maybe have someone have a cute little crush on seulki . . . and i was like but that’s SO sad........ then i was like u know what i love pain so here we are........ also could be requited we shall see !

FUCK BUDDIES, FRIENDS/ENEMIES WITH BENEFITS, FLINGS ! — i’m just getting lazy at this point to explain this shit . . . fuck him, let him fuck u he’s a true vers my friends.

OTHERS ! — cuddle buddy, old friends, confidant, rivals, skinny love, annoyances, a brother/sister type of relationship, and if there’s anything else we can just vibe ! tbh we don’t even have to do anything from this list, whatever fits the muses, these are just ideas !

#mhq:intros #°࿐ ✦ ༉ 𝓐. ooc ﹠ 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝙞𝙩'𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙠𝙪𝙨𝙝 .#huh. can't believe y'all have to read this...... i feel bad for u all #also i didn't proofread this so just go w it

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shianhygge-imagines · 6 years

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Shian’s Middlemarch AU Extra Verse: What Should Have Been Part 1 (Ravus Nox Fleuret/Reader)

AN: It’s been a looooong time coming, but here it is! Because the AU is so long, I’ve split it into two parts. The one posted today, and another in the coming days when I am not dying of finals.

For those of you new to my Middlemarch series, this is the Alternate Happy Ending that everyone wanted me to write in response to the angst that the original series was. But as it just so happened, Episode Ignis had the Extra Verse, which was a happy ending of sort, so I decided to base this story off that. The first part of this story will not have spoilers for Episode Ignis, but the last part will.

Well, without further ado... ENJOY!

|Masterlist Link|

------------------------------

The Day of the Invasion

You glanced tiredly at the high ceilings towering above your limp form. Your senses had dulled significantly as the blood drained from your body, forming a crimson pool beneath you. Despite all your valor, your foolish bravery, Glauca had cut you down without hesitation, allowing your body to fall with praise for your honor. And as a last homage to your young life, had laid your body to rest beside the fallen King Regis.

At first, you’d been able to hold the King’s cold hand, but as the feeling left your body, you could no longer find the simple comforts from the fallen king. It was funny. Dying. It felt like your entire body was submerged under water, vision clouded, hearing muffled, and the energy just draining out of you. “Like an old battery.” You chuckled cynically, before choking on your blood. I don’t want to go out like this. You thought to yourself. Someone save me. I have so many things I want to do. I want to grow old and have a family. “I just want someone to be there for me.” You gasped weakly, feeling tears fall down your pale and bloody face.

You could feel the explosions and destruction happening from the outside world, several stories above and rock layers away. Everything seemed so far away, and despite having the King’s body next to your own fading one, you’ve never felt so alone. “Why is it so cold?” a gasp of breath into your blood filled lungs accompanied by the gurgle of something thick dripping out of your mouth, “I’m not ready to go yet.” You sobbed, staring up at the light coming from the chamber’s stained glass above.

Perhaps the Astrals heard your dying pleas, for next you knew, your body was being lifted by a muscular arm, and you started at the warmth, the heat, the comfort, radiating from the body holding you, unconsciously clutching to the white fabric, not wanting to feel so cold and alone again. You could only whimper as the arm pulled you to a firm chest and a kiss was pressed to the lids of your closed and tired eyes.

“Don’t leave me.” You begged over and over again when you’re lifted from the floor and onto a platform, weakly clutching at the figure with the mismatched eyes and clearly not thinking with a sound mind.

The man with the platinum blonde hair took your hand in his own and didn’t leave your side even as you were transported out of that haunting chamber. “I will not, Little Light.”

And then, it was like the remaining strength in your body was given permission to leave, the image of worried mismatched eyes gazing down at you in horror as your vision faded to black.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The Night of the Invasion

“My, my, did you actually love something other than your sister, High Commander?” a teasing, light hearted voice rang through your consciousness. And although it was teasing, you had the feeling that there was a subtle hint of malicious intrigue.

“That notion is absurd.” another voice answered after a few seconds, seeming annoyed and cold. “I no longer have attachments to those aligned with the so called Chosen King.”

“And yet you commanded the treatment and care towards Y/N Amicitia, a Sworn Shield to the Kings descended from the Line of Lucis.” the lighter voice chuckled, with clear amusement at the mention of your name. You couldn’t open your eyes, with the lack of energy in your body, but you could hear as footsteps drew closer to your side and a rough hand gently brushed the hair from your face. “It’s fine if you love them, Commander, though it would paint you in a less than positive light with your superiors.”

The other man said nothing, choosing to remain silent as his companion of sorts amused himself with your soft strands of hair. “Though I don’t suppose they remember who you are to them. Such a shame. The High Commander of Niflheim still enamored with his childhood love.” There was a pause and a brief chuckle. “How poetic. Two pairs of star-crossed lovers. Yourself and Y/N… as well as Prince Noctis and Lady Lunafreya.”

“None of us are dying.” Ravus, you had deduced, denied vehemently, voicing rising the slightest with a hiss.

You could almost hear the smirk on the other man’s face. “Of course not.” and you felt the man’s gaze on your form. “But love doesn’t prevent the death of those we love.” The rough hand halted over your closed eyes, and the man bent down to whisper in your ear, “Isn’t that right, Little Light. Now sleep and heal. Your beloved Prince awaits.”

The name of the man above your form suddenly came to you as you lost yourself to unconsciousness again.

Ardyn Izunia.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The Morning After the Invasion

Cor held onto the small amount of hope as he left the remains of Insomnia after leaving the corpse of his once beloved king. The Immortal Shogun had buried so many comrades, had seen just as many civilians perish as well, and despite this, there was slight happiness and hope the perhaps, you’d been able to escape the city with Lunafreya. Cor’s light blue eyes sparked with a fierce will to find his Prince, but that spark also existed because he wanted, no, needed for you to be alive. That you had left the city alive, and that he hadn’t left you to die alone. As one of the people who helped raise you, Cor couldn’t stand the thought of you, with your bright eyes, left to rot somewhere in the city, the light leaving your eyes.

Perhaps… if the Crownsguard were not ordered to patrol the exterior of the Citadel during the attack, things could have been different.

No. Cor shook his head in denial, attempting to banish all the negative and morbid thoughts from his mind as he made his way out of the city on the highway, which had long since crumbled from the relentless battle between the city’s Old Wall and Niflheim’s Diamond Weapon. Far enough away, from the ruined city, Cor allowed himself to turn and mourn the lives lost, blue eyes taking in the fire and rubble. Only after several moments of silence, did Cor allow himself to turn, taking out his cell phone and dialing a number, holding the small device to his ear.

The phone only has time to ring for a few moments before the recipient picks up.

“H-Hello? Cor?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two Days After the Fall of Insomnia, Ten Days Before the Death of the Oracle

Ardyn smirked in amusement as he sauntered his way through the metal door leading to your room. It had been two days since the High Commander had taken you in for medical treatment, and every single instance that Ardyn found himself in your room, Ravus was by your side. If the Tenebrae Prince was not holding your hand while reading through paperwork, then he would be working at the desk only a few feet away. Somewhere deep down, Ardyn could feel the bitterness creep at his heart. It must have been nice, to be so close to the person you loved. But the cursed man shook his head. There was little use in mourning the past.

The Forsaken King plastered a smug grin across his visage before he gave a delighted hum, allowing the busy High Commander to finally take notice of his presence. “My, my, I never see you outside of this room, Commander. It couldn’t hurt to let them leave your sight now and again. I’m sure the poor thing would be disturbed to wake and see your frightening face.”

It greatly pleased Ardyn to tease the ever serious High Commander, but he often grew tired of the lack of response from Ravus, forcing a pout to the playfully malicious man’s face, as he made his way closer to where you lay, still unconscious. “You keep watch over them so diligently.” the Forsaken King tilted his head to stare inquisitively at your sleeping face, auburn hair shifting with the movement, “Though you hate Lucians with such passion.” When the platinum blonde haired man only continued to ignore him, Ardyn extended a hand to play with your hair, “Ah, but I thought that you would be more concerned with saving your dear sister… perhaps this one here… is a distraction.” And in a split second, his hand shifted and tightened.

~~~~~~~~

You’d never been woken up so harshly before, eyes snapping open, already wide and bulging with panic at the pain blooming in your chest and the tightness around your throat. No sound reached your ears as you struggled, lifting your hands to grab at your attacker’s. There was an indistinct yelling, but the man above you only grinned eyes shining maliciously as he only tightened his grip. From the side, a man in white roughly shoved at your attacker before drawing a rapier to attack the man. To your alarm, the man above you easily blocked your protector, sending a shock of black and purple-ish energy to knock the man in white back. When his attention was back to you, you took notice that the man above you now had a demonic look about him, his sclera completely black.

Your eyes widened, horrified, alarmed, as you stretched out your dominant hand, calling to your greatsword. In a rain of blue sparks, your blade materialized, its handle a familiar weight as you swung sideways with all your might. Just when the sharp edge was about to slice into your attacker, he smirked and disappeared in a burst of purple wisps. Coughing roughly from the sudden ability to breathe, you sat up and slumped forward, unarmed hand coming up to gingerly touch the bruises forming on your neck. Your eyes wanted to close from the exhaustion and pain, but stubbornly remained open, vigilant and observing your surroundings. The room decor screamed Niflheim, what with its metal decor and boring design, and it caused no sense of relaxation for you. For now, you paid no attention to the man in white, who was cautiously making his way to you, though you could distinctly make out the humming of an engine. Perhaps you were on an airship?

The space beside you sank from a sudden weight, and your vigilant gaze shift ever so slightly to take in the white garb and purple armor, rapier sheathed, and Magitek arm, before sweeping up to look into eyes of blue and purple. Worry, joy, uncertainty. That was what you saw in the man’s eyes, though the rest of his face betrayed nothing. You knew him, though through the pain you struggled to remember his name. “You…” The adrenaline had long since left your body, and suddenly your torso felt like it was on fire. You took a glance down to see bandages peeking out from under the greyish blue hospital gown.

“You should not strain your body, Y/N. For it still has much healing to do.” the man with platinum hair chided gently, gently taking a hold your hand with his metal arm as his other arm, one made of flesh, you observed, slowly wrapped around your back and guided you to lay on the bed once more. “Now rest, Little Light. Let your body heal the wounds that Glauca made. Let them vanish from your flesh to be never seen again.”

Little Light.

Glauca.

As if a torrent suddenly rained down upon you, you began to recall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You could feel the life leaving you as you stubbornly stumbled forward, still intent on attacking the behemoth of a general in front of you. Nyx and Lunafreya had long since left the chamber, and to your shame, King Regis had long since passed on. But if the damage to your body could buy Lunafreya enough time to escape, then you would bear the pain. It was your calling, after all, to protect those who needed to be protected.

The greatsword in your hands collided with Glauca’s blade with a deafening clang though you weren’t strong enough to deflect, instead being thrown back a few feet as Glauca brought his sword down upon your torso yet again. By all means, you should have died by then, but Cor had given you a supply of Phoenix Downs to keep you going in emergencies. But before you could bring your last Phoenix Down out, Glauca charged you, and before you could move away, the blade had impaled itself through your flesh once more.

“I commend you for your bravery, Y/N Amicitia. It is a shame that you had to die for such a foolish cause.” Those were the only words Glauca offered before he pulled the blade from your body, allowing you to fall backwards with a resounding thud. “As a tribute to your will, I will let you die by the King’s side.” Were you lifted from the ground, you didn’t know. All the feeling in your body had since left, leaving only the cold. Before you knew it, all there was in that room, was silence.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Almost with agony, you clung at your breast, a phantom pain shooting through your torso as you recalled the blade piercing your body. And then, you remembered the warmth from the man who saved you, your hands finding their way to the man in white’s arm. When the man turned his head ever so slightly to look into your face, you knew this to be your savior. “Ravus.” his name left your lips in a plea, “I’m not… dead?”

There was a slight upturn of his lips as the Imperial High Commander answered in a near whisper. “No, Little Light. You are among the living, and you will not die so long as I live.”

A low whimper left your lips as you closed your eyes, allowing the tears gathered to fall. Stubbornly, you pulled Ravus’s arm closer, burying your face into the warmth. And despite the fact that you knew him to despise Lucians, you begged. “Don’t leave me, Ravus. Please. Don’t let the cold take me again.”

How far you must have fallen in Ravus’s eyes. A proud Crownsguard member and a Shield to the King, yet here you were, pathetically clutching onto his arm.

And yet… to your surprise, the weight on the bed shifted, and suddenly you were surround in warmth. You hesitated in looking up, but when you felt another arm wrap around your body, pulling you close to a firm chest, you couldn’t dismiss the urge. For once, when you look into Ravus’s face, you see not a passive mask, but expressive eyes and a stubborn frown. It was a look you were familiar with in your childhood, vaguely remembering someone named Rae looking at you the same way. “My Little Light… the darkness and the cold will never take you again.”

There it was again, that nickname. Little Light.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

12 Years Ago

You watched sadly as Noctis left the room, yelling back that he would see you later in the day. Was it wrong that you felt a burst of tightness in your chest whenever you saw him leave? Was it wrong that you wished that you were as important as Lunafreya was to Noctis? Was it wrong that while your best friend smiled cheerfully after all the tragedy that befell him, you could only look on in the background? Forgotten? When they went off to play, neither ever invited you.

At the age of eight, all you wanted was companionship. And yet the one you counted on to provide that companionship had abandoned you. At age eight, you couldn’t hate, but the jealousy left you hollow, empty, as you roamed the halls of Fenestala Manor, its ancient stone architecture like something out of those old stories that Gladio would read Iris. It was so quiet, as you walked through the ancestral home of the Nox Fleurets, sniffling and trying to hold in tears as you blindly went, not noticing the figure following behind you.

Perhaps it was the whispering and staring of everyone that you came across, but you didn’t stop walking until you found a secluded corner on the direct opposite side of the manor, where the bridges were slightly older, and where it seemed, less people frequented. In this seemingly secluded part of the manor, you allowed yourself to crumble to your knees, tears sliding down your cheeks as you let the loneliness consume you.

The trip to Tenebrae was your father’s idea. Thinking that Noctis might need a friend with him in Tenebrae. But to think that this would be the opposite of the fun that your father intended had never occured to you. As a result, you didn’t know how lonely it would be to be in a foreign land as your friend left you alone.

This wasn’t fun.

It wasn’t fun being left out.

It wasn’t fun being pushed aside.

It wasn’t fun to be replaced.

It wasn’t fun to be forgotten.

And perhaps, that was what hurt the most. Perhaps that is what gave you cause to find the darkest place in Tenebrae imaginable. Perhaps that is the reason that those tendrils of black and purple found you so easily. That the Scourge tugged at the darkness within you. Beckoning you, a spiral of darkness that ached to corrupt. And how you longed to give in.

But just when you were about to stretch your hand out and welcome that seductive force, you suddenly found yourself surrounded in warmth. “Little Light, do not go quietly unto the darkness. Do not let its seductive poison take you. Do not let that pure light within you extinguish.”

You didn’t recognize the voice from the form behind you, but could tell that the light coming from them scared off the mysterious black and purple tendrils. The dark presence had whispered promises of companionship. That it would be your friend. That it would take the pain in your chest and make it disappear. That you wouldn’t be alone any longer. Desperately naive in your loneliness, you struggled against your savior, trying to reach out to the darkness nearly gone. “No!” You protested, your tiny arms reaching towards the darkness. “Don’t go! Don’t leave me alone!” It came out as a desperate sob, watching the darkness fizzle and fade in the presence of the light. Only when you could no longer see the darkness, the promise of companionship, did you collapse and give into the person hold you. “It hurts.” You shivered as the light retreated as well, “It’s so cold.”

“Y/N.” the person behind you called out, extending their light to you. “Little Light, the darkness is not your friend.”

The light was warm, but the darkness still promised companionship. “But it promised not to leave me…”

The arms retreated from around your form in favor of taking you by the shoulders and spinning you around. Taken by surprise, your teary eyes rose to meet with blue and purple, and you realized that the light was coming from the Prince of Tenebrae himself, Ravus Nox Fleuret. With a determined expression on his otherwise kind face, Ravus extended more of his light towards you, “Then I won’t leave you, Y/N.” It wasn’t a half-assed statement, but a promise, as he knelt before you. “I won’t let the darkness take you.”

Still untrusting, you shifted your eyes and bit your bottom lip in a pout, “Promise me?”

The Prince smiled sincerely, lips parting in a grin as he pulled your tiny form into a hug. “I promise.” When he felt you accept his light, Ravus sighed in relief, stroking your hair as he’d seen his mother do for his sister when she was sad. “Nothing will take that spark away from you, Little Light. I promise that so long as I live, you won’t fade.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tearfully, you clutched onto Ravus’s form, “Rae…” Years ago, Ravus had saved you from being taken by the Scourge. Now, twelve years later, he’d saved you again. And still, you couldn’t believe that you had forgotten about Ravus. “You kept your promise.”

The fallen Prince of Tenebrae stroked your hair affectionately as you fell back asleep, “So long as life exists within this breast of mine, you won’t fade, Y/N.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed my work, please consider buying me a Ko-fi!

#shian imagines #shianhygge #shian's middlemarch #ravus x reader #ravus nox fleuret #ravus #noctis lucis caelum #ignis scentia #prompto argentum #gladiolus amicitia #ardyn izunia #ardyn lucis caelum #final fantasy xv #ffxv #episode ignis #alternate universe #extra verse

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ryukoishida · 7 years

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OtaYuri Week | Day 1: First Time | In which figure skaters become mobile suit pilots in this self-indulgent Gundam AU.

Written for @otayuriweek

Title: Touch of the Martian Sun Day/Prompt: Day 1 – First Time Author: ryukoishida Summary: Yuri Plisetsky may have the eyes of a soldier, but even the bravest warrior and one of the most formidable Mobile Suit pilots in Korishiro Corps can break at the seams when he reaches his limit. [Gundam (Iron-Blooded Orphans ‘Verse) AU] Rating: T Warning: Mention of past physical and emotional abuse A/N: That Gundam AU that literally nobody asked for. Also includes some Mila/Sara because I couldn’t resist. This is one of the most self-indulgent things I’ve ever written, probably. You don’t need to know anything about the Gundam ‘verse except it’s kids piloting giant fighting robots.

“Yuri, what the hell are you doing?”

His captain’s voice is grainy through the intercom, but his hands – slender, graceful, scarred with old and recent wounds – continue to move like a fluttering dance, pushing buttons and pulling levers.

Every movement delicate and precise. Deadly.

Connected through the Alaya-Vijnana System embedded into his spine, his mobile suit, a customized version of Rhyannon – towering at over 18 meters tall and made of nano laminate armour painted with contrasting shades of ink black and cardinal red – propels itself across the field in smooth, effective arcs as if it’s an extension of his own body.

A red warning sign flashes hastily in the left corner of his monitor: one of his short-barrel cannons mounted on his shoulder has been severely damaged during the last scuffle with a particularly insistent Reginlaze. He still has plenty of armament though – sufficient to at least administer significant destruction against those who are foolish enough to engage him in a one-on-one fight.

His sea-green gaze is piercing, darting left and right in quick succession to try and see through the thick sheen of red dust swirling a wild waltz that refuses to settle as multiple mobile suits drift and cross paths in such speed only the sun catches glimpses of their shapes in specks of reflected light against metal.

In the back of his mind, Yuri can faintly make out the other man’s voice but his focus has been splashed bright red with fresh blood and the endless fury brought on by the memory of those animals in human disguise, their voices and words and agony inflicted by them that still rips him away from peaceful slumber, causing him to wake up drenched in cold sweat and lingering fear.

“I’m not letting those bastards get away this time,” Yuri grits out, fingers drumming irritably on the control grips as he searches for the ragged shapes of the enemy troop’s Reginlazes and Hugos.

As big and bulky as these machines are, in this thick curtain of dust, they are impossible to detect with the naked eye.

Yuri waits, the coldness in his eyes unforgiving. He’s waited for this chance for almost a year since the day Yuuri Katsuki found him among the wreckage of what used to be one of Afanasiy’s largest ships; a few minutes’ time means nothing to him right now.

“Yuri Plisetsky, fall back, right now.” Otabek Altin’s usually quiet and collected voice is clipped with impatience and tinged with a hint of panic as he watches the elegant lines of his friend’s mobile suit glinting faintly in the distant sunlight.

“You weren’t there, Otabek,” the statement isn’t meant to be in any way accusative, but the deep-seated vehemence breaks open the surface of his whisper, a chilling tone that makes even one of the best pilots in Korishiro Corps shudder. “You have no idea what they’ve done to me – to the others.”

Guang Hong Ji – a shy, sensitive boy of Chinese descent who was so frail when he was first captured by Afanasiy that Yuri thought he wasn’t going to make it through the Alaya-Vijnana implanting operation.

Leo de la Iglesia – a dark-skinned boy from the Americas with eyes full of hope and determination that gradually diminished as he became numb to the physical pain and battle scars, and the emotional agony of losing comrades who fought alongside him.

Mila Babicheva – a feisty red-head from what used to be Russia who rebelled against her captors until she became quieter and more withdrawn as bruises and lashes bloomed all over her body like a field of violets.

And those are just the ones who survived long enough – lucky enough, perhaps – for them to be rescued by the crew of Korishiro when the wall that had been constructed to confine them and iron chains thick and heavy around their necks were tear apart by Yuuri Katsuki and his Gundam Saleos.

Of course, back then, they had no idea of the influence and power, as well as the danger that comes along with it, that having a Gundam frame on their side would entail.

Otabek’s voice filters through the stark images of his mind, tainted with rusted blood and bitter fury.

“Remember what Mr. Nikiforov said! Retrieve and secure the Gundam frame, and––”

Yuri can’t hear Otabek’s next words.

He breathes out, limp, blond locks fluttering and sticking to his sweat-stained cheek. His fingers grip the controls reflexively the moment Rhyannon’s sensors signal two mobile suits heading his way from opposite directions.

From the midst of the dust storm, two mobile suits armoured in teal and grey, with Afanasiy’s insignia of a red and yellow phoenix branded on their shoulders, emerge at full speed like some crazed ghouls seeking blood and violence.

Yuri will give it to them: bruised skin, broken bones, severed limbs, and pain beyond comprehension.

He pulls out his railguns and shoot at both units without hesitation, aiming directly for where the cockpits would be located on the robotic suits.

The one to his left explodes immediately, scattering fireworks of spitting flames and raining shrapnel.

His eyes flash towards the remaining Reginlaze, now less than five meters away with its blade brandished and ready. Yuri grins, the expression horrifyingly sharp and callous, and he shifts his control grip to face the oncoming attack as he unsheathes his own smaller assault knives.

Without any warning, Yuri throws one of the knives towards the Reginlaze, and the blade lodges itself into the crook of the mobile suit’s right shoulder, successfully disabling its sword-wielding arm. The young pilot wastes no time to get closer after one well-aimed kick lands his opponent flat and hissing smoke on the ground, Rhyannon’s other knife raised in an angle perfect for stabbing right through the cockpit of the other mobile weapon.

Blood roars in Yuri’s ears, and exhilaration rushes through his body like a living beast, making his eyes unnaturally bright and his lips twisted into a grin.

That’s when a shadow descends from above. Silent and unexpected as death.

Rhyannon alerts him much too late, the echo of the urgent beeping in his cockpit enshrouding his other senses.

“Yuri––!”

He can barely make out Otabek’s voice – he can always hear Otabek amongst the chaos. It’s a deep, rumbling river that always gives him a sense of calm when he fears the dark, uncontrollable storm of his emotions threatening to drag him past that threshold between sanity and madness.

It’s a thin line that Yuri has been straddling for these past long months.

The solid weight of the other mobile suit crushes him from the top, and the deafening collision – like a prolonged clap of thunder invoked by the angry gods – rings in his ears long after the impact.

A hit from a mace from the side sends him sprawling on the ground, and then the Hugo that’s been attacking him is stepping on him to ensure he’s not going anywhere. Metal groans and creaks around Yuri from the pressure, the monitor screens cracking and blacking out, and the safety belts strapped across his bare chest is cutting into his skin and pressing sharply against bones.

Black oils leak through breakages, and glittering sparks and small flames sputter from Rhyannon’s broken circuits as the Hugo savagely punches into Yuri’s battered mobile suit.

The last thing he remembers is Otabek yelling into the intercom, “Yuri! Stay with me, damn it! Mr. Katsuki, we need to––”

‘I don’t need to be saved,’ Yuri thinks, fingers slipping off from the control panel.

He’s strong enough.

A rivulet of red drips into his eyes, sticky and warm, but he feels no pain, just a strange white noise buzzing in his ears.

He opens his mouth, prepared to protest but instead of words, he coughs out blood that tasted coppery sweet on his tongue.

It’s familiar and comforting, and Yuri thinks that’s the scariest part of all.

The rising sun on Mars is dazzling – disorienting, almost.

“Shouldn’t you still be resting in bed?”

Otabek settles beside him, two cans of chocolate-flavored protein drink in his hand, and he offers one to the other man.

“I got bored,” Yuri takes it with a nod of thanks, but he doesn’t drink it, just rolls the can between his hands.

Loose strands of his hair that have escaped the half-ponytail tied messily behind his head flutter in the breeze and fall into his eyes. Yuri makes no movement to fix it.

“That’s what I figured,” Otabek chuckles, the sound low and smoky. He takes a swig out of his own can, wincing when the saccharine taste of the artificial flavor hits his palette.

“How’s your fractured ribs?”

It’s small talk, but that’s fine by both of them. The morning is quiet, the Korishiro base a peaceful sanctuary without its usual fanfare during the day.

“Fine,” he replies, lips twitching, “still hurts like a bitch, but I’m alive, so that’s always a plus.”

His gaze is focused on the horizon, the roseate light of dawn making his pale blond hair gleam. There’s no humor in that bitter smile.

“About that, Yuri…” Otabek starts, but hesitates to continue. Indecision has never been a trait of the 19-year-old, who has become one of Korishiro’s youngest and most capable mobile suit pilot, and dependable leader of the Human Debris (though they don’t use that term anymore since the rebellion) – those who were orphaned at a young age and sold cheaply as child soldiers through various means.

“Am I grounded from piloting Rhyannon?”

“What?” Otabek turns towards him with a confused frown. “What would make you assume that?”

“Mila told me. You had a long talk with Nikiforov the day after we came back…” Yuri places the beverage down beside him, and he turns to face Otabek, teeth worrying his lower lip. “She said neither you nor Katsuki would talk about the meeting though, so it must have been something serious. Was it about me?”

“Mr. Nikiforov was concerned about you,” Otabek treads carefully, knowing full well that Viktor Nikiforov, founder of Korishiro Corps who’s known for his impertinent but oddly genuine nature, is not Yuri’s favourite person.

Yuri scoffs in a sharp exhale but keeps his mouth shut.

“Mr. Katsuki and I as well,” Otabek’s tone turns softer, dark gaze lowering to stare at the half-empty can in his hands. “What you did back there was reckless; you could have gotten yourself killed––”

“We completed the mission, didn’t we? That’s the most important part, isn’t it?” Yuri snaps, the frustration in his voice churning and the fire in his eyes barely contained. He lowers his torso into a defensive pose, but the sudden movement jostles his wound, and he hisses in pain while bracing a protective arm around his abdomen.

Otabek begins to reach for him, but when he sees Yuri curls further away, wordlessly refraining from being touched, the other man relents and heaves a soft sigh.

“Not if it means having one of our own injured,” he tries to reason. “We could have retrieved the Gundam frame without engaging the enemy, but you…” Otabek sends him a wary glance then, “don’t try to deny it, Yuri, but you wanted to fight them, didn’t you?”

“So what if I did?” No hesitation or a hint of repentance at all. “If you’d experienced what I had – what Mila and Leo and Guang Hong had – you’d do the same.”

“I’d seen what they did to you and the others; I was there,” Otabek reminds him, and the image of when they first found the four youngsters in the rubble of the ruined ship was still painfully fresh in his mind: the bruised, battle-hardened bodies had been beaten – worst, they had been abused by adults who had exploited them for their own gains. He swallows hard and continues, “and I’m not about to tell you to be a saint and forgive those bastards, but letting the hate and anger control you like that – that’s dangerous.”

Otabek doesn’t want to say more – doesn’t want to belittle Yuri’s emotions or trespass into a territory he has no right to be in.

“You figure I don’t know that?” Yuri bites out after a shaky breath, gaze downcast. “Why’d you think I offered to go solo in the first place?”

He’s not responsible for anyone else’s lives but his own; he’s always lived by that rule. That’s how he survives. That’s all he knows how.

“Because Viktor can see right through you,” Otabek says, and he drains the last of the beverage before continuing, “because he knows, with that temper of yours, you’ll end up injured – or dead – if you’d gone on your own.”

He’s not wrong – Viktor does care, even if he has an annoying and strange way of expressing it – and Yuri hates that even more.

“You needed someone there to tell you to stop, and I guess that was why Mr. Katsuki and I were chosen for this mission as well.”

“If he’s so worried, then why’d he let me go anyway?”

“You’re one of the best pilots we have, and Mr. Nikiforov acknowledges that and trusts that you will deliver in the end,” Otabek says with a faint smile, a quiet sense of pride in the curve of his lips.

The older pilot turns to him once more, eyes searching calmly until Yuuri glances up to meet his gaze.

Something in Yuri’s eyes waver – the desire to believe in Otabek’s words, the wish to let go of the past.

“The thing about working in a team is that you have to trust others: you have your family’s backs, and they have yours,” he leans towards Yuri, and when he senses that the blond has no intention to back away, Otabek lifts his hand and carefully brushes Yuri’s bangs out of the way, winding the strands behind the curve of his ear before cradling his jaw.

At this range, Otabek can count the lashes framing Yuri’s sea-green eyes, perplexed and curious by their proximity.

Otabek needs him to understand this. “Yuri, you’re not in Afanasiy anymore; you don’t have to fight by yourself.”

Maybe that’s the issue, Yuri doesn’t voice out his thoughts, just quietly mulling over Otabek’s words, the warmth of the other man’s fingertips a slight but pleasant distraction.

It’s difficult for him to place his trust in others.

He’s never seen that as a problem before – never really considered it – but Otabek has saved him time and time again since he’s been accepted as part of the Korishiro family, and Yuuri – sweet, meddling, quiet-spoken Yuuri who’s like an elder brother to the younger members in Korishiro – can be fierce and frightening when his family’s lives are endangered. The trail of wreckages of those who had threatened Korishiro left behind by Saleos should be proof of that.

Yuri feels the soft caress of Otabek’s thumb across his cheek, the gesture simple yet filled to the brim with something he can’t quite name, only that it causes his face to heat up and his blood to thrum a melody not unlike the adrenaline before a battle.

But this strange pull in his body is unlike any sensation Yuri has ever felt, and he finds himself grasping the sleeves of Otabek’s jacket, knuckles tensed and wide eyes unable to look away from the other man.

“Yuri…?”

Wetness stings his eyes, and he can’t comprehend what’s happening at first. He tries to blink it away, but it only serves to blur his vision more: hot tears rolling down his cheeks and breaths shuddering to catch up.

Yuri can’t remember the last time he cried. Maybe it was when he said goodbye to his grandpa back at the spaceport on Earth six years ago?

He had cried only once while he was imprisoned by Afanasiy after an especially grueling training session, which had involved lots of mobile suit simulation and even more beatings afterwards during physical drills. Later, he had sobbed into the dirty sheets on his narrow bunk bed while the other children feigned ignorance. He’d thought about his grandfather, still living and relatively safe on Earth thanks to the remaining savings he’d sent not too long ago.

That was when he made a promise to himself.

Otabek is the first person to see him shed tears like this since then – defenseless, all choked sobs and ugly crying that Yuri is unable to stop – and he thinks he should be afraid, ashamed, but when Otabek wordlessly wraps his arms around him, being extra careful not to bump against his wounds, Yuri can only feel thankful as a sense of relief flows through him like a serene current.

He lets go, bit by bit.

There’ll always be a small part of him clinging to the past – not because of fond reminiscence but because that imperfect fragment is one of the pieces that makes him who he is. Yet once he accepts that and moves on, Yuri figures that life on Mars, with those whom he calls brothers and sisters, is going to be better than he’s ever hoped for.

“Yuri, what’s the matter? Did I hurt you? Should I––?” Otabek starts to pull himself away, unsure of what to do.

“Don’t you dare,” Yuri sniffs, pulling him closer, or as close as it’s possible for his injuries to not protest too much.

Otabek’s eyes soften into a warmer russet, and he stays there, palm on the back of Yuri’s neck, as they wait for the younger man to calm down. Violent shaking eventually turns to slight tremors, and then he’s still as a statue.

“Better?”

Yuri nods into his shoulder.

“Woah woah, are we interrupting a moment here? Please excuse us!”

A cheerful melodious voice bursts through their reverie, and the speaker, a young woman with short, burgundy curls and bright green eyes, is currently draping herself all over another female with tanned skin and long dark hair bunched up messily into a ponytail as if the definition of “personal space” doesn’t exist in her dictionary.

The other woman doesn’t seem to mind much, though she does send her companion a meaningful glare.

Her exasperated “Mila, don’t be rude!” is said at the same time as Yuri’s nonchalant “Mila, fuck off.”

Yuri leans away from Otabek, cheeks rosy and streaked with drying tear marks that he tries to rub away with the sleeve of his too-big jacket.

“Sara, Yuri’s being mean to me again!” Mila Babacheva clings closer to her friend, who can only tug her along as she smiles apologetically at the two men.

“Come on, you little monster, didn’t you say you want to see the upgraded armament for your Stagioni?” Sara Crispino laughs and takes Mila’s hand in hers. Neither seems to be bothered by the gesture, and Yuri and Otabek share a knowing glance.

“Heading to the hanger?” Otabek asks as he gets on his feet.

“Yeah,” Sara nods, “you and Yuri should come, too. Yuuko’s purchased some new parts and she’s been itching to do some upgrades on Ulises.”

“I hope she hasn’t done anything to it yet,” Otabek looks uncharacteristically startled and even a bit distressed at the mention of upgrades and the name of his mobile suit in the same sentence.

Mila and Sara burst into simultaneous laughter, and even Yuri can’t help the small grin on his face as they recall the failure of one particular upgrade a few months ago.

“Never forget the hip canons,” Sara giggles.

Needless to say, putting short barrel canons on a lightweight class mobile suit’s waist has not been one of Yuuko’s brightest ideas.

As the four of them make their way to the hanger, Yuri asks, “How bad is Rhyannon’s condition?”

Sara glances over at the young pilot before setting her eyes forward again, “Yuuko was mad when they hauled it in.”

Yuri gulps nervously.

Yuuko never gets mad. She’s usually easy-going and greets everyone with a friendly smile; her only fanatic obsession is taking apart and putting together the mechanical parts of mobile suits. If Yuuko had been mad, Yuri figures he must have fucked up quite royally.

“That bad, huh?” he only says, throat dry, though his facial expression remains impassive.

“She said her team will need at least another week with it before it’s fully repaired,” Sara adds, and she watches with amusement as Yuri’s face turns another shade paler.

“Oh, hell,” Yuri mutters, stalling midway, “maybe I should, uh, wait until Yuuko’s done with the repairs before I see her. I’m sure she doesn’t want to be bothered when she’s clearly busy.”

“Oh no you don’t,” Otabek blocks his way before Yuri can think about turning back. “You have to help me convince Yuuko to stay away from adding anything ridiculous on Ulises. We have another assignment next week and I don’t want a repeat of the hip cannons.”

The women snicker behind him, but Otabek looks serious, imploring Yuri with his earnest eyes.

Staring at Otabek’s openly honest expression – rarely seen on the usually stoic pilot – Yuri hides the trace of a smile threatening to show on his lips by turning his head slightly away, murmuring, “Fine. Just this once – as thanks for saving my ass. Again.”

“Aww, this is great, isn’t it, Sara? Look at them!”

“Yes, yes,” Sara ruffles the other woman’s hair affectionately, “now let’s get going before Yuuko decides to upgrade everyone’s mobile suits.”

Their pace significantly quickens after that.

Explanation Time! Definitions (within Iron-Blooded Orphans Universe):

- Gundam frames: A series of 72 mobile suit frames that were produced and developed by Gjallarhorn (an international peacekeeping force) during the Calamity War 300 years ago; the Ahab particles generated by the two Ahab Reactors within each suit give it a lot of powers, which can be burdensome on the pilot’s body since man and suit are connected through the Alaya-Vijnana system.

- Alaya-Vijnana system: A man-machine interface implant that improves a pilot’s spatial skills and reactions while piloting a mobile suit. The surgery to get the implants is risky and many have died during the process.

- Mobile suits: A type of mobile weapon that is a humanoid combat vehicle. I.E. Giant robots that people can pilot even in space.

#otayuri week #otayuri #otabek altin #yuri plisetsky #mila/sara #bowie's crappy writing #yoi: gundam au

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