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rosecoloredsunshine · 3 months ago

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you're all that i see, you're all that i need — evan peters

masterlist | request link

PAIRINGS: evan peters x female!reader

SUMMARY: you moved to los angeles to pursue your doctorate degree, and unknowingly catching the attention of evan peters on a totally random afternoon.

REMINDERS: please be reminded that this is a work of fiction. meaning that all events and occurrences in this story are all fictional and all are part of my imagination. any resemblance to actual life events and people, living or dead, are all purely coincidence.

WARNINGS: no use of y/n, set in 2011 (ahs:murder house era), reader is a woman in stem, some tl and info are inaccurate (i tried my best), fluff, and minor typographical errors.

WORD COUNT: 3.8k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: hello, anon! i hope that i had perfectly captured your request, and it is up to your standards lol. there had been a lot of songs that i pulled inspiration from, so hopefully this also turned out good than what i had expected it to be. enjoy reading! :)

The sun was warm against your skin as you navigated the bustling sidewalks of Los Angeles, the city’s vibrance still a shock to your senses despite having been here for over a month. It was July 2011, and you had recently moved to LA to pursue your doctorate degree, which was something you had spent years dreaming about. The sprawling city was both exciting and overwhelming, but you were determined to carve out your little space within it.

You had already found a few favorite spots—the small, cozy bookstore on Melrose, quiet corners of the library at your university, and most of all, the charming coffee shop tucked away between a row of unassuming shops. You went there almost every day, laptop in hand, and eager to chip away at your dissertation.

The route to your usual go to coffee shop had always been straightforward, until the day you noticed the crowd. You frowned, glancing at the throng of people lingering on the sidewalk, some holding their phones up, others chatting excitedly. There were a bunch of cameras, vans, and people with headset barking orders. You tried to squeeze past, only to be gently nudged backward by someone wearing a lanyard and looking slightly frazzled.

“Sorry, miss. Filming in progress,” he said apologetically, ushering you away from the set.

“Oh,” you replied, glancing over his shoulder.

You were not the type to keep up with shows or celebrities. Your world mostly revolves around textbooks, research papers, and academic journals. But the filming went on for weeks, and soon, the inconvenience became just another part of your daily routine.

The crowd would always linger, some fans giddy with anticipation of spotting someone by the name of Evan Peters. His name popped up in snippets of conversation as you squeezed past them each morning. Until you became curious one night and decided to google him.

You blinked at the screen, eyes catching on his image. Blonde curls, kind eyes, a mischievous smile that seems to linger in every photo. He was handsome, sure, and apparently, he was only a year older than you. But you closed the tab soon after, chalking it up to harmless curiosity. You had a dissertation to finish.

Days bled into weeks. You made a habit of sitting near the window of the quaint coffee shop, laptop open and fingers dancing across the keyboard. It was one of the few places you had felt truly comfortable, a sanctuary from the noise and chaos of LA. The barista had already memorized your order, automatically labeling you as their regular customer, and flashing you a smile each time you walked in.

“Here you go, as always,” she said cheerfully, setting your coffee on the counter. “Good luck with the important work you’ll be doing today.”

You laughed softly. “Thank you. It’s a bit of a nightmare, but I’m getting there.”

The corner table near the window was practically yours at this point. You loved the way the sunlight spilled through the glass, warming your skin and making the page glow as you read over your notes. But what you did not realize was that you had become a constant for someone else.

Evan had noticed you the first time he walked into the coffee shop on a lunch break. It was the kind of rare quiet afternoon on set, and he had ducked inside to grab a quick drink before heading back. But then he saw you, your gaze fixated on your laptop, eyebrows knitted in concentration, fingers brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. He couldn't help but stare.

There was something about you, something ethereal. Maybe it was the way that the sunlight kissed your skin or how your lips twitched into a gentle smile when you finally looked up to thank the barista. Whatever it was, it rooted him to the spot.

“Sir?” the barista prompted, eyebrows raised.

Evan snapped out of his daze, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Uh, just black coffee. Thanks.”

He tried to make it a one-time thing. To leave, get back to set, and forget about the stranger who had somehow captivated him. But you were there the next day, and the day after. Soon, he started timing his coffee runs to coincide with whenever you were around, telling himself it was just a coincidence. But it wasn't. He had found himself lingering by the counter, pretending to read the newspaper or check his phone, eyes drifting back to you.

Sometimes, he would watch you smile and laugh at something on the screen of your laptop, the sight of it making his chest feel light. Other times, he would catch the way your expression would harden, brows furrowing when you were deep in thought—all those little things. You were always there, and it was ridiculous how much he looked forward to seeing you.

One afternoon, Evan was supposed to be back on set fifteen minutes ago. But instead, he was nursing a coffee at a corner table, gaze fixed on you as you typed away.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, realizing he had lost track of time.

He quickly stood up, nearly knocking his chair over in the process. But as he moved towards the door, he couldn't resist making one last glance at your direction. Coincidentally, you looked up, catching him mid-stare. Your eyes met his, and for a split second, neither of you moved. A slow, polite smile curved your lips. You dipped your head in acknowledgment before turning back to your laptop. Evan stood there like an idiot, warmth creeping up his neck. God, he was such a fool, but that smile was going to stick with him all day.

It became a routine, your separate lives threading together through fleeting glances and accidental smiles. You still had no idea who he was. To you, he was just another face in the crowd, in the sea of customers that come and go in the coffee shop. But to Evan, you were something special. Something he wanted to know more about, and perhaps, more terrifyingly, something he couldn't get out of his head.

Evan had spent far too many afternoons pretending to read newspapers or scrolling aimlessly through his phone just to steal glances your way. It had gotten to the point where he would catch himself smiling when he saw you at your usual table, bathed in golden sunlight, fingers typing furiously on your laptop. Today, though, he had enough of just watching. He built up the courage during filming, his mind wandering between takes, his thoughts drawn back to you like some magnetic force. Even his co-stars had noticed how distracted he seemed.

“Evan, man, you good?” one of them had asked, smirking like he already knew the answer.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine,” Evan had replied, brushing it off with a laugh.

Deep inside, Evan was anything but fine. He was nervous, and Evan Peters was not supposed to be nervous about something as simple as talking to a girl in a coffee shop.

By the time he finally made it through the door, his hands felt clammy, pulse thrumming unsteadily. But there you were, just like alway, at the same table, with your expresion half-hidden behind your laptop screen. Your hair was loosely tied back today, a few strands framing your face in a way that made his chest feel warm.

He bought his usual coffee, trying to delay the inevitable as he gathered his thoughts. But after a few minutes of lingering awkwardly by the counter, he forced himself to cross the room.

“Uh, hi,” Evan started, voice sounding rougher than he had intended.

You looked up, blinking in surprise before your polite smile returned. The same smile you had given him all those times you’d caught him staring. Only this time, you seemed genuinely curious.

“Hi,” you replied, closing your laptop slightly. “Did you need something?”

“Sort of,” Evan admitted with a sheepish grin. “I, uh, I’ve seen you here a lot. Figured I should finally say hello instead of just, well, you know, awkwardly staring from over there.”

You laughed. A soft, genuine laugh that made his shoulders relax, and maybe made his heart skip a little bit.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” your tone was light, teasing at most. “Though, to be fair, I probably look like a total weirdo staring at my screen for hours, so…we’re even?”

“Definitely even,” he chuckled, feeling his nerves melt away. “I’m Evan, by the way.”

You hesitated for a split second before giving your name. There was a glint of something in your eyes, but it was gone before he could place it.

“It’s nice to meet you, Evan.” you smiled. “I’m glad to put a name to the face that had been staring at me all this time.”

Evan could have sworn his heart skipped a beat. Not because you said his name, but because you said it like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like you had no idea who he was. It was a refreshing feeling.

He leaned a little against your table, feeling bold enough to keep the conversation going. “You always seem so focused, what’s got you working so hard?”

You groaned, rolling your eyes playfully. “My dissertation. It’s like this never-ending, soul draining monster that I keep chipping away at, hoping one day it’ll just finish itself.”

He laughed. “Ah, so you’re one of those super smart people who chose to torture themselves with more school?”

“Pretty much,” you grinned, folding your hands over your laptop. “Moved here for a doctorate program. Still trying to get used to the city and everything.”

“You’re new here?”

“Yeah, about a month or so. Feels like the city’s still trying to swallow me whole, but I think I’m getting the hang of it.”

“Well, you seem to have already claimed the best table in this place.”

“That’s true. Perks of showing up every day and slowly scaring everyone else away, I guess.”

Evan laughed again, the sound filling the cozy space between you. This was easier than he had expected.

“You come here a lot too, don’t you?” you asked, tilting your head slightly.

He nodded. “Yeah, usually on breaks from filming. This place is way better than the craft services table.”

You gave Evan a curious hum, like you were only half-interested. The type of person who made polite conversation but decided not to pry, and he found himself appreciating that.

“So, you’re an actor?” you asked, though there wasn't any spark of recognition in your eyes.

“Yeah, doing a show right now.”

“Oh, that’s why there’s a bunch of camera people outside.” you nodded thoughtfully. “I figured it was something popular with all the crowds.”

“Yeah, the fans can be pretty dedicated,” he scratched his neck, feeling a little self-conscious. “I was surprised you weren't out there with everyone else.”

You let out a soft chuckle. “I’ve never been great at keeping up with shows or celebrities. To be honest, I didn't even know what they were filming until I overheard someone talking about it.”

“Really?” he tried to hide his disbelief, but the amusement was clear on his face.

“Yep. I even googled you, like, once—out of curiosity. But uh, I’m not really good at remembering famous people’s faces,” you shrugged, unbothered. “Besides, I figured you were probably tired of getting recognized all the time. Didn't want to add to that.”

Evan felt his chest swell with a kind of relief he hadn't expected. You were not treating him like a celebrity, not fawning over him or asking for photos or telling him you were his biggest fan. You were just you.

“Thanks. For not bringing it up, I mean. It’s kind of nice to just be normal, you know?”

“Yeah, I get that,” you offered him a gentle smile. “So, what’s it about? The show, I mean.”

Evan launched into a brief explanation about American Horror Story, his enthusiasm bubbling over as he described the haunted mansion, twisted characters, and his role as Tate Langdon. You listened attentively, occasionally nodding and asking thoughtful questions. Somewhere along the line, he had pulled out a chair and sat across from you, completely forgetting that he had only meant to say hello.

When his phone buzzed in his pocket, he ignored it. Then it buzzed repeatedly.

He grimaced, glancing at the screen. “Crap. I was supposed to be back on set like…twenty minutes ago.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Well, you should go. Before someone comes in here and drags you out.”

“Right,” he stood up from the chair reluctantly. “But, can I maybe talk to you again? Next time you’re here?”

You raised a brow. “Well, considering I’m here everyday, probably.”

Evan grinned, his expression almost boyish, and his dimples showing. “Great! I’ll, uh, see you around?

“Yeah. I’ll see you around, Evan.”

As he left the coffee shop, practically jogging to get back to set, he could not help but feel like something had just shifted. For once, he did not mind being late.

You did not expect him to come back.

After your conversation with Evan, you had half-convinced yourself that he had been caught up in a fleeting moment of curiosity. He was a busy actor, after all—caught between filming and whatever else people in his position did when they weren't on set. You figured he would forget about you as soon as his schedule pulled him away, and you prepared yourself to let it go.

Still, the next day, when the familiar sound of the door chime echoed through the shop, your eyes would flicker up instinctively. A part of you hoped to see those curls and that shy smile, but it was just another regular customer. You shook your head, focusing again on your laptop, reminding yourself that it was not that big of a deal. Maybe meeting Evan was just a fleeting moment, one of those tiny pieces of your LA experience that would fade as quickly as it had appeared.

However, on the third day, just as you were lost in your notes, the chair in front of you scraped against the floor. You looked up, and there he was—Evan, sliding into the seat with that soft, boyish grin, his dimples deepening when he saw the surprised look on your face.

“Hey,” he greeted, tone casual but eyes bright with excitement.

You couldn't help but smile back. “Hey, you. I didn't think you’d be back.”

Evan raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, finger nervously tracing the rim of your coffee cup. “You’re busy, right? Filming and all that?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, but I like coming here. Kind of gotten used to it…and to seeing you.”

Your heart skipped a little, and you cursed yourself for how easily he could make you feel like a giddy teenager. You covered it with a small laugh, closing your laptop to give him your full attention.

“How’s the filming going?” you asked, hoping that your question didn't sound too forced.

“It’s been good. Long days, but good,” he glanced down at his coffee, fingers tapping lightly against the cup. “Actually, it’s almost over. We’re wrapping up in three days.”

Something in your chest tightened, and you hated how that tiny bit of news made you feel. You had barely known him for a few weeks, and yet, the thought of not seeing him at the quaint little coffee shop felt strangely sad. Like the bubble you both had created here would finally pop, and he would disappear into the city, back to his world while you remained in yours.

“That’s great,” you said, forcing a smile. “I bet you’re excited to finish.”

Evan hesitated, eyes flickering to yours like he could sense the shift in your mood. “Yeah, I guess. But, uh—” he stopped, fidgeting with the coffee sleeve before looking back up at you, expression softer, almost vulnerable. “Actually, I’ve been thinking about something, and I didn't want to just let it go.”

Your brows are knitted together. “What do you mean?”

He took a deep breath, like he was steadying himself. “I don’t want to pass up this opportunity with you. Of not doing anything, and I know that I’d end up hating myself if I just left without at least giving it a try.”

You tried to open your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Was he saying what you thought he was saying? Evan then rubbed the back of his neck, looking almost sheepish.

“These past few weeks, just talking to you, seeing you here…it’s been the best part of my day. You’re—god, this sounds so fucking cheesy, but you’re kind of beautiful,” he breathed out. “Not just, like, physically. You’re just…beautiful, you know? The way you light up when you’re talking about your research, or how you always smile at the barista even when you look exhausted. I just, I couldn't leave without asking you out. Even if it’s just one date.”

Your heart pounded, and you couldn't help but let out a small, disbelieving laugh. “You want to go on a date with me?”

“Yes,” he said without hesitation, gaze unwavering. “If you’ll let me. I just don’t want to lose you before I even get to know you properly.”

You could feel your cheeks heating up, a giddy warmth spreading through your chest. “I, I’d like that,” you managed, your own smile mirroring Evan’s. “Yeah, let’s go on a date.”

Evan’s relief was evident, shoulders relaxing as a grin broke out across his face. “Really?”

You laughed softly, nodding. “Yeah, really.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, but a buzzing sound interrupted the moment, his phone, probably someone from the set. Evan glanced at it, then back at you, sending you an apologetic look.

“I have to go,” he said, but his excitement was still visible in the way his eyes gleamed. “But I’ll see you tomorrow, same time?”

“Same time,” you agreed.

Evan lingered just a moment longer, clearly reluctant to leave, before finally heading towards the door. You watched him go, heart still pounding, the reality of what had just happened slowly sinking in. You couldn't help the smile that appeared long after he had left, knowing that maybe this wasn't just a fleeting moment after all.

True to his word, Evan took you out on your first date just a few days later. He showed up at the coffee shop, just like he promised, a smile brightening the room. You couldn't help but notice how his nervous energy from before had been replaced with an easy confidence, still sweet, but undeniably charming.

The first date was simple but perfect. Evan took you to Griffith Park for a walk, with the city sprawling out beneath you as you talked about everything and nothing. You learned that he loved horror movies but hated jump scares, that his favorite food was anything homemade because it always reminded him of his mom, and that he had ended up becoming an actor because of the Olsen twins—to which had made you laugh a little.

In return, you told him about your doctorate program, the pressure of balancing your workload with your sanity, and how moving to LA felt like a risk you still weren't sure you had made for the right reasons. Evan listened intently, nodding along, making you feel like your every word mattered.

When the sun set, bathing the city in hues of orange and pink, he walked you back to your apartment. As you stood at your door, you half-expected the evening to end there, but instead, he lingered, eyes warm and his hand brushing yours.”

“This has been a fun day,” you murmured, voice softer than usual.

“Yeah,” he replied, heart thumping. “It really was.”

You hesitated, then leaned in to press a soft, hesitant kiss to his cheek. You didn't know what came over you, but it felt right doing it. Your breath warm against his skin, and he couldn't help but smile, and when you whispered a goodnight, Evan knew that he would be thinking about this for days.

The dates continued. Sometimes you would go to small diners or take walks through lesser-known neighborhoods to avoid attention. Other times, Evan would sneak you into the set after hours to show you around, grinning like a kid as he gave you a private tour.

Your favorite date, though, was when Evan took you to an old-school drive-in theatre, parking his car far enough that you could just talk without worrying about being recognized. You shared popcorn, hands brushing in the bucket, and by the time the movie ended, you were all cuddled up in the passenger seat, his arm around your shoulder.

Four dates in, things were starting to feel natural, like you had known Evan far longer than just a few weeks. He made you laugh easily, and you found yourself craving his presence more and more. You weren't blind to the reality of it all, you knew that dating someone famous would come with challenges. But Evan made you feel safe.

During your fourth date, he took you to the beach at night, the waves crashing rhythmically as the two of you sat on the sand. You talked about your dreams, fears, and the little things that made life worth it, and at one point, you glanced over to find him staring at you, expression more serious than usual.

“What?” you asked, a little self-conscious. “Is there something on my face?”

Evan bit his lip, clearly choosing his words carefully. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot,” he started, voice steady despite the vulnerability in his eyes. “I know this, us, might not be easy. People are always watching, always assuming things. It can be a lot, it is a lot, but I really, really like you. More than I thought I would, and I want to try. I want to see where this goes.”

You took a deep breath, the reality of what Evan was saying sinking in. You have had the same thoughts, wondering if you could handle dating someone who lived under the spotlight. But the truth was, you liked Evan too. A lot.

You reached out, hand finding his. “I like you too, and yeah, it’s a little intimidating, but I trust you. I want to see where this goes too.”

The relief on Evan’s face was almost comical, his shoulders dropping as he laughed softly. Without another word, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a tender, lingering kiss.

The noise of the ocean faded away, and for that moment, it was just the two of you under the starry sky, no cameras or prying eyes—just you and Evan, and the beginning of something real.

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addaerontruther · 11 months ago

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hello!! i must admit i have not heard much about addaeron ship but i am increasingly curious!! would you mind sharing what it’s all about perhaps i’ll join the club

PLEASE JOIN OUR CLUB!! Sorry this took me so long to answer, but I knew it was going to turn into a dissertation and I was right. HOPE IT'S AT LEAST A GOOD READ!

It starts with Daeron being sent to Oldtown. At this point in the story, he's the only Targaryen, ever, to be sent to ward. He's at the center of the anti-Valyrian club with no one around that looks like him or understands where he comes from. He was a Targaryen prince with a pretty dragon in a city notorious for hating Targaryen's and dragons — which would've been hard enough, without the differing races & customs, considering his sexual identity. He was a baby gay of 12 when he was sent to Westeros's Vatican.

Cue: Addam of Hull, shiphand to his mother, Marilda, constantly working on one voyage or another. The biggest port in Westeros is King's Landing, right near Driftmark, but the second biggest port is Oldtown. My theory, and most other shippers, is that this is where they met. I like to think Daeron and Addam met by chance on the docks, and Daeron decided to take a closer look because he was the first person he'd seen in Oldtown with the silver hair and purple eyes that signaled Valyrian heritage. Once they actually met, and talked, the connection was instantaneous.

I believe Daeron fought it at first, and tried to just keep him as a friend, but the more time they spent together, the harder it became. Addam ultimately made the first move, but from the moment he did, Daeron was all in. They both were, really.

They spent the next few years falling in love and having their moments when they could. Daeron took him flying on Tessarion whenever he was able, and Addam loved both dragon's. When Mouse (Addam's mother's ship if you're unfamiliar) was docked in Oldtown, they were together every single second possible. When they weren't, they sent letters back and forth through other shipwrights moving between them, but that was rare for fear of being found out. Mostly they just spent their time apart wishing they were together.

And then the war started, and Addam was no longer able to visit Oldtown. They were unable to send any messages back and forth, but Daeron had anticipated this day and made the decision long ago that there was only one person in his life worth fighting for, and it was not the Greens. When Ormund set out with his army, Daeron stayed put; thus Ormund begging King's Landing for a dragon despite his squire having one.

When the Red Sowing happened and Corlys came to Addam and Alyn, Addam saw an opportunity to rise up to a level where he, a bastard, would be good enough for a prince — a dragon prince at that — and give himself a chance to earn amnesty for his lover. Having learned High Valyrian commands from his time with Daeron and Tessarion, Addam succeeded where Alyn failed, and claimed Seasmoke.

After the Gullet, Addam and Corlys had a conversation that not even Mushroom reports on; I believe this is when he confessed to his grandfather, now hand of the Queen, that he loved Daeron, and would fight as hard as he could as long as he could, but he needed Daeron to live.

Unfortunately, Daeron did not get that memo. He heard a bastard from Driftmark named Addam claimed the dragon of the late Laenor Velaryon, and that was enough. Addam actively fighting for the enemy on dragonback meant he was now on Aemond (long since Prince Regent at this point) and Vhagar's radar. So, he climbed onto Tessarion's back, and joined the war himself.

His victories were all honorable and/or bloodless for a long time. He was, mostly, used for intimidation and scouting. And then Maelor was ripped apart by the smallfolk after Lady Caswell barred her gates to him, and the rage and stress and pressure bested Daeron, and he sacked the city so hard they renamed it Bitterbridge (previously known as Stonebridge).

Despite this, Corlys still tries to spare Daeron. He asks Rhaenyra to let him live, but she refuses, sends Hugh and Ulf on Vermithor and Silverwing to kill him, and asks Addam to stay in King's Landing to protect her and her sons.

Things don't go as she planned, of course. Hugh and Ulf join Daeron rather than fight him, and Rhaenyra, understandably, unravels. Mysaria convinces her that Daemon betrayed her for love, and then she decides that Addam, too, is a traitor, and should be sharply questioned to prove his innocence... something that is, more often than not, fatal in Westeros. Her having such a strong and immediate change of opinion in him after these betrayals makes a lot more sense if you believe she knew he loved Daeron and feared he had something to do with Ulf/Hugh and/or would betray her alongside them.

Addam was no traitor, even if the love of his life had, as far as he knew, lost his damned mind. Addam had no way to know Daeron hated the betrayers and was actively planning their deaths to rid himself of them despite their extra fire power changing the tides of the war, or that he hadn't actually been involved in the carnage of First Tumbleton, or that he had, in fact, begged the Hightower in charge to make it stop.

So, Addam raised an army and turned it to fight Daeron. The actual killing of his lover was the first thing he did when he got to Tumbleton, because he knew he would never be able to do what he had to do if he saw him. Despite setting the tents on fire, he still turned towards Tessarion the second she "took to the skies, shrieking and spitting flame." I believe he wanted to see if Daeron was on her back, and that was why he kept spinning around her on Seasmoke in the beginning.

Once he saw her saddle was empty, he knew his mission succeeded, and he lost all heart. Tessarion was riderless and had a taste for blood, yet he couldn't get himself to make a fatal attack... or attack at all, really. This was Daeron's dragon. A dragon Daeron had his whole life, the only friend he had in Oldtown when Addam was gone, and a dragon Addam himself was familiar with and loved dearly. He couldn't do it.

Tessarion couldn't do it either. Daeron might be dead, but he was still her only rider ever. She could still feel him, his loves and hates, and she couldn't get herself to hurt Addam or Seasmoke. When Vermithor started getting too close, she left.

But Addam and Seasmoke didn't. They slammed into Vermithor, a dragon twice their size, in what could only be a suicide mission, and Addam proceeded to attempt to eliminate Jaehaerys's creature (derogatory).

He would've failed, and who knows what carnage Vermithor would've inflicted after, if Tessarion hadn't come back. There was no reason for it. Daeron was dead, not forcing her to do this. But Daeron was dead, and Addam was the thing on earth he loved most. She slammed into them, and it became Seasmoke, Addam, and Tessarion against Vermithor.

Ultimately, Addam died in the same field where he killed Daeron, alongside his dragon. Tessarion, the smallest dragon of fighting size in the entire war, one third of Vermithor's size, avenged them. She was not in good shape after and bitch ass Benji Blackwood had her put out of her misery, but she, ultimately, killed herself in an attempt to protect, and then avenge, the man her rider loved.

It's worth noting that Silverwing was also present at this battle, and her and Vermithor had been mated for around 100 years at that point. She, too, was riderless, and she did nothing to help him. She actually said fuck all that and flew away. Tessarion and Seasmoke may have known each other as hatchlings (and I believe they did/they were both Meleys's children), but we know Vermithor and Silverwing did. We know they had a bond. And yet they did nothing to help each other.

Tessarion didn't mate with Seasmoke for no reason. She didn't kill herself trying to help him and Addam for no reason. Daeron and Addam loved each other so much that even in death, Daeron's dragon, who had seen them fall in love and felt it right alongside Daeron, still felt it, and gave her life trying to preserve it.

TLDR; their relationship explains 75,000 plot holes for them both and George couldn't have made it more obvious, in my humble opinion. It's about love, and youth, and war, and two boys that felt alone for much of their lives being together even in death.

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lucagray813 · 4 months ago

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The Tang Chronicles - Chapter 6

Rating: G

Word Count: ~3,031

Characters: Tang, Pigsy, MK, Pigsy's Grandmother

Summary: Tang has finally handed in his final assignment for uni and celebrations are in order! Unfortunately though, it's not just his course that's come to an end.

Additional Tags: Slice of Life, Pre-Canon, Pigsy's Grandmother is called Xiùyīng

CW: Mentions of alcohol, brief allusion to alcohol abuse

Link to AO3 Version

Chapter Navigation: First | Prev | Next

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He had done it.

Through blood, sweat and tears - so, so many tears - he had submitted his dissertation and was now finally free from the horrors of academia!

At least, he was until he started his post-grad in the Autumn, assuming he got the passing mark he needed, that was. But! That was something for future Tang to worry about! Right now, he deserved to just feel relieved and happy that the hard part was over.

On his way back home, he'd stopped by Pigsy's to tell everyone the good news and apparently they had been waiting for him.

It wasn't often MK was found in the restaurant during opening hours but he was clearly on lookout duty. Stationed at the booth closest to the window, he was leaning over the back of the chair and scouring the streets.

Tang had to admit, it was quite nice to have someone's face light up so spectacularly when they saw you. MK quickly disappeared from his sight but he was there when he opened the door holding up a very colourful, homemade card and cheering excitedly, "Congat- Congatu- You did it, Mr. Tang!"

He'd managed to arrive just as they'd reopened for dinner and as such it wasn't too busy but the few customers that were here looked very taken with MK's antics. He wasn't sure MK really understood why congratulations were in order but his grin was wide as he took his card from MK.

"For me? Aw, thank you, MK."

On the front of the card was a tall and shining rendition of himself with balloons and streamers surrounding him. On the inside, there were smaller pictures of all the things that MK apparently associated with him - his glasses, his laptop, books, noodles. And in the middle it read, "No more homework!" With many happy faces and words like "Wow", "Yes!" And "Lucky!" all around it.

It was signed MK, Pigsy and Xiùyīng.

Well, maybe he did understand why they were celebrating. He laughed as he closed the card, "Thank you, MK. This is the best "No more homework" card I've ever gotten!"

That got some amused smiles from around the room but MK just beamed at him before hurrying him to his usual seat, "C'mon, we made something special just for you!"

Xiùyīng was there waiting for him and he allowed himself to be swept up in her mighty hug as she congratulated him, "Oh, well done, Mr. Tang." She let him go and smiled at him as she continued, "You must be so relieved, you've worked so hard."

He heard Pigsy snort but he ignored him as he thanked her, "I can't even put into words how glad I am it's over. But you really didn't need to any... thing... for...."

His eyes were glued to the glowing bowl of noodles that had just been sat down on the bar. He swallowed the unseemly amount of saliva that had just materialised and tore his gaze away to look at Pigsy with eyes full of teary wonder as he pointed to the dish, "For me?"

Pigsy rolled his eyes but he was smiling fondly as he pushed the bowl closer, "Obviously. Don't start with the waterworks - you'll ruin the broth with your tears."

He sniffled noisily as he composed himself and sat down. Gratefully he accepted the pair of chopsticks MK was waving at him but before he could take a bite, Pigsy pulled the bowl away from him, "I just need to check - did you actually hand in your dissertation or did you just throw it in the river?"

In the weeks leading up to his deadline, he had gotten increasingly dramatic, threatening to scatter this Heaven forsaken paper to the winds or to burn it and bury the ashes. He huffed as he pulled out his phone and showed Pigsy a picture of him handing in his dissertation.

Mǐnyǒng had also been sceptical of whether he was actually going to go through with it or not and had bullied him into sending evidence that the deed was done - his classmates had found this incredibly funny but they had obligingly filmed and photographed him.

Pigsy nodded his approval and let him snatch his well-earned prize back. He was vaguely aware of Xiùyīng lightly scolding Pigsy but it all melted away as he took his first bite.

"Oi! What did I say about getting tears in the broth!"

He couldn't even slow down long enough to savour it, just shuffled it into his mouth as fast as he could as waterfalls ran down his face.

Xiùyīng helped MK up onto the stool beside him before taking the seat on the kid's other side so they could both tuck into their own special bowls.

Xiùyīng muttered something about too much soy sauce but it was drowned out by MK's happy humming.

When he was finished he looked Pigsy straight in the eye, "Pigsy. That was the greatest thing I've ever eaten."

Trying to hide how pleased he was, Pigsy picked up his empty bowl, "That'll be your way of saying you want more then."

This time, he took the time to savour the food and Pigsy was practically glowing as he waxed poetry about every aspect of it, backed up by MK's enthusiastic nodding and his simple, but heartfelt, compliments like, "It's really tasty!", "It's so shiny!" and, "Even the vegetables are yummy!"

That had, of course, prompted some light-hearted arguing about vegetables but if anything it only added to the enjoyment of the meal.

Eventually, Xiùyīng wisped MK away to clean him up and he got some final congratulations as they left.

His eyes caught on the card MK had made him lying a safe distance away from the splash zone and he picked it up with a smile as he admired it, "What a sweet kid. And he's getting really good with his characters."

Pigsy coughed, "Well, he may have had some help with them."

He laughed quietly, quite charmed that this card had been a collaborative effort, "Well, that doesn't change how much I appreciate it."

Pigsy turned away with a grunt to do some dishes, "Yeah, well, you can show that appreciation by making sure to still come by and visit him. I don't think it's quite clicked that you not having homework means that you'll be round less. He's going to miss you."

He smiled as he propped his cheek against his hand.

MK's going to miss me, huh?

Out loud he said, "I'll be picking up more shifts at the museum soon but I'll still be here at least couple times a week. You know I need my fix."

Pigsy huffed, "You better be." He then turned and pointed a wet wooden spoon at him threateningly, "And I better not hear that you've been sneaking off to have lunch at that noodle shop around the corner from your work - that place is a disgrace!"

It definitely did the job if you were just in the mood for some cheap, greasy food though but still he put a hand on his heart, "I have a stomach of integrity. I would never betray you like that."

Pigsy clearly didn't believe him but he let it go and returned to his dishes before asking, "Uh-huh. You doing anything to celebrate finishing uni then?"

He nodded, "A couple of us are going out for drinks tonight. Nothing too crazy planned but everyone is desperate to cut loose after a month of pure stress."

Pigsy glanced over his shoulder, "You wanting to take something away for later then?"

Coming home drunk to Pigsy's noodles sounded like heaven on earth so he grinned, "Can you double it? Mǐnyǒng is coming out too."

Pigsy nodded and started throwing something together as he commented, "I'll make him his favourite - he deserves it for keeping you out of trouble."

He huffed, "Since when do I get into any trouble?"

Pigsy raised an eyebrow and Tang hastened to clarify, "Drunken troubles! Not weird luck trouble! I'm a perfectly sensible drunk!"

And it was mostly true! While alcohol generally robbed him of his ability to shut up, he didn't tend to lose his filter or feel the need to do anything stupid. If anything, Mǐnyǒng was the more likely of the two of them to get into trouble - very easily persuaded into doing dares and challenges when drunk.

Pigsy looked doubtful and Tang responded, "What do you know anyway! You've never even seen me drunk!"

Pigsy scoffed, "And I'm more than happy to keep it that way. Drinking isn't my thing."

A little surprised, he asked, "What? Like at all?"

He wasn't a huge drinker himself but he did enjoy going out now and then and he thought it was sort of a shame if Pigsy didn't drink at all - it might have been fun to go out together sometime.

Pigsy shrugged and he continued to question, "How come?"

With forced nonchalance, Pigsy responded with his back turned, "My mā drank enough for both of us."

A little thrown by his explanation, he awkwardly got out, "O-oh... Uh, yeah. I guess that could put you off..."

By the rising tension he could see in Pigsy's shoulders, he thought that he might have regretted being so honest but he knew better than to pry and tried to move the conversation on, "Guess that means you wouldn't want to go out sometime, huh? Ah, well. Probably makes you better role model for MK anyway. Oh! Which reminds me! I still owe you that museum tour!"

Pigsy turned to look at him, a little bewildered, "How did that remind you of the museum?"

He'd really just been scrambling for the first safe topic he could think of but he tried to retrospectively apply some logic, "Well, it's a fun day out and we said we'd arrange something when I finally finished my coursework."

Pigsy eyed him oddly before letting it slide, "Right... Well about that. If he'll like it as much as you think he will I'm thinking I might save it as a treat or something for him attending his first day of Summer School. Try and make it as positive experience as possible, y'know?"

Without really thinking, he wondered out loud, "Isn't that how they train dogs? Y'know, give them lots of treats for going to the groomers or whatever?"

Pigsy just stared at him for a moment before apparently deciding not to comment, "So what I was getting at is was that the trip to museum is still a couple of months away."

A little confused, he responded, "Y'know, he can go more than once, right? And the exhibits change all the time."

Pigsy muttered something unintelligible before responding, "Yeah, I know but this is just the way I want to play it, alright?"

Sometimes, there was no understanding Pigsy, and there was no reasoning with him either so he just shrugged, "Suit yourself."

They chatted about how MK was getting on preparing for school and about what his plans were for the rest of the week before Pigsy handed him over his food and warned him to stay safe tonight.

He rolled his eyes but promised to drink responsibly all the same.

----

Two weeks later, he found himself in his usual seat slumped over the bar as his tears cascaded off the bar to create a small waterfall.

Pigsy had set up a wet floor sign beside him just in time for Xiùyīng and MK arriving back from their trip to the park.

Xiùyīng immediately approached him, "Oh dear, what's happened?"

MK clung to her dress and looked up at him as his eyes welled up with empathetic tears.

Pigsy grunted, "He was dumped."

He sobbed louder in response.

Xiùyīng gasped, a hand coming to her chest, "No! Why? What happened?"

Pigsy translated his incoherent blubbering, "Mǐnyǒng got offered a job in Chéngdū. He's taking it."

Xiùyīng placed a gentle hand on his arm, "Oh, sweetheart."

He wailed, "H-He doesn't even want to try doing long- long-distance!"

To say he was devastated didn't even begin to cover it.

He'd genuinely believed that he and Mǐnyǒng were going to be together for the rest of their lives but Mǐnyǒng wouldn't even entertain the idea of having a long-distance relationship for the year it would take for Tang to finish his masters and then come and join him in Chéngdū.

Did he want to move to Chéngdū? No. But upon receiving the bad news, he'd been severely tempted just to ditch his plans to do a masters just so they could stay together.

His mother had swiftly nipped that idea in the bud however.

Because, of course, she had been the first person he'd called.

Unfortunately, his least favourite older brother also happened to have be visiting when his snotty face had appeared on his mother's phone and he'd zero sympathy to his plight.

"Oh no, māma! Your gay wedding!"

She'd slapped his arm and sent him away before giving him her full attention, "Oh, Tangy. Tell mamā everything."

She'd been exceptionally sympathetic but hadn't minced words when she told him that no man was worth abandoning your education for. No man was ever worth sacrificing anything for.

Unless it was one of her sons, of course, then that was a different story.

He'd no longer been bawling his eyes out by the end of the conversation but he had sniffled an apology about not giving her the gay wedding she wanted. She had shushed him, "Oh, don't you worry about that. You'll find another man and I'll get my wedding yet." She raised her voice, "It's your brother that I'm worried is never going to get married!"

Almost immediately after that call, his other, much more likeable brothers, had messaged him with their condolences. His eldest brother showing he cared by threatening to fly to out and do serious bodily harm if he dropped out of uni for some guy.

Arguments that Mǐnyǒng wasn't just "some guy" and was, in fact, the love of his life were not entertained.

After that, obviously, the next person he had to tell was Pigsy and he'd been crying at the kitchen bar since he'd got here.

Pigsy did not have his mother's gentle way with words and wasn't really in the habit of lying just to make him feel better. And so he refused to tell him what he wanted to hear and agree with him that Mǐnyǒng was going to realise his mistake and change his mind.

He didn't care how unlikely it might be, he was nowhere near ready to accept the truth.

Not when he still had another couple of weeks of living together with Mǐnyǒng to convince him to give a long-distance relationship a shot.

At least, Xiùyīng was better than her grandson when it came to this sort of stuff, even if all she was offering was the generic platitudes of "You'll find someone better." Or "You were too good for him anyway."

Poor MK had no idea what was going on but he was very upset by the fact that Tang was upset and eventually Pigsy had picked him up and taken him upstairs to try and explain the situation and calm him down while Xiùyīng stayed to try and comfort him.

He'd just about pulled himself together by the time the restaurant had opened but he couldn't shake the depressed funk that had taken over him - not even Pigsy's cooking could cheer him up.

And he could tell the way he miserably picked at his food was what really alarmed Pigsy more than anything.

But how could he enjoy anything when perfection personified was about to walk out of his life? How was he ever going to find anyone remotely like Mǐnyǒng?

What if he was doomed to be single forever and he never found love again?

Because as wonderful as his mother liked to tell him he was, he knew he was high maintenance. And he was suddenly ruminating on whether he was the problem and this had been a long time coming. What if Mǐnyǒng had just been waiting for the chance to dump him without hurting his feelings because he was nice like that?

Over the coming weeks Mǐnyǒng would do his best to convince him that wasn't the case at all and that it was all because they were young and had different ambitions and that he didn't want either of them to miss out on opportunities and blah, blah, blah.

It didn't stop the heart ache and it didn't stop his erratic mood swings either.

Pigsy had taken a very tough love approach to it all, enduring his emotional tirade but only offering him cold, hard facts in return. Sourly, he thought it was because Pigsy didn't understand the pain of heart break. Xiùyīng had complained hundreds of times over the years about her grandson's non-existent love life, after all. So what did he know about what he was going through?

In sharp contrast, MK was very empathetic to his mood even if he didn't seem to really understand what had happened still. But he could often be found sat as closely to Tang as he could get away with at the bar, drawing things and offering him various toys to try and cheer him up.

He really wished he would stop and just leave him to his abject misery but he didn't need Pigsy's warning glares to tell him that rebuffing MK's efforts would end badly for him.

Xiùyīng was somewhere in the middle of the two, although she, very unhelpfully, kept mentioning a friend's son or the nice man that always stopped by on a Friday evening for takeout. I mean, could she at least wait until Mǐnyǒng had actually left before trying to set him up with someone new?

But eventually Mǐnyǒng did leave and on top of being depressed about that, he now had the pleasure of experiencing single life for the first time in almost four years and he hated it.

Unfortunately, no-one was particularly impressed with his rebound.

--Chapter End--

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LMK Fanfic Masterlist

#lmk #lmk fanfiction #my fanfiction #originally posted on ao3 #tumblr fic #lmk mk #lmk tang #lmk pigsy's grandmother #lmk pigsy #lmk dadsy #pre relationship #lmk freenoodles #au: dadsy #lego monkie kid

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thisbelongsto-nohbodys · 2 years ago

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[Teen!Hilda is at the kitchen table complaining about a career survey paper from school while Johanna and Kaisa have tea.]

Teen!Hilda: I just don’t see how they expect us to know what we want to do for the rest of our lives, isn’t that the point of living? Besides I couldn’t see myself with a boring desk job or something, that’s no life for an adventurer.

Kaisa: You could become a mythologist.

Johanna & Hilda: A what?

Kaisa: Mythologists study and record myths and folklore and legends from all over the world and compile it into books for future generations to read and learn from the past.

Hilda: So I can still adventure and get paid to do it…legally?! I wouldn’t get in trouble?!

Kaisa: Yep. You’d have to write a few books and dissertations tho’.

Hilda: I can do that if it means freedom. It’d kinda be weird to see one of my books at your library though I’d imagine, huh?

Kaisa: Not at all. In fact I look forward to the day when a customer comes in and is all “excuse me but do you have a book on mythology” and I can say “Why yes, many but may I recommend this one. It was written by my step-daughter.” “Oh, that’s impressive, I bet your proud of her” “Yes, very proud to be blessed with the best step-daughter in the world”. Y’know, typical librarian things.

Hilda: That’s very sweet Kaisa but… please don’t say that was you proposing to mum in a roundabout way.

Kaisa after realizing what she’d said: What??! No, I mean, ummmm, uhhhhh ///////

Johanna: It’s okay dear, don’t worry. You can have another chance to properly propose at a better moment. That is if I don’t propose first *wink*

Kaisa heavily blushing: T-thank you……I love you.

Hilda getting up from her chair: Well I’m going to go see what I need to do to become a mythologist. So I’ll leave you two to make your proposal plans or whatever.

[Hilda dashes out leaving a blushing Johanna and Kaisa who can’t look at at each other from embarrassment]

#Hilda #hilda netflix #hilda the series #johanna hilda #kaisa hilda #johanna x kaisa #love the headcanon of Hilda being a mythologist when she grows up

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lesb0 · 3 months ago

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Liquid is trying to do something really sophisticated with the fictional pieces of this memoir, and largely, it seems like all the dates with women. Or at least all the female sex scenes didn't read as real. She mentions early on that the fake bisexual (gf of the best friend she's in love with) described kissing women as gross as kissing dogs, and then they end up kissing for no reason after running into each other. She describes the dates with femmes as a pointless waste of time, while admitting several times the she will not marry anyone who isn't a straight rich male. She's willing to suck the older butch's strap and get fingered, but she has 0 interest in touching or kissing or loving female bodies at all.

She meets a sexy older Iranian femme while she's in the country to wait for her father's death, so she's just wearing wifebeaters without makeup in the morning, unstyled pixie hair, so she's in full butch "cosplay" during this affair. She looks down on the femmes pussy ceramic art, saying some bullshit like it isn't feminist enough, and cuts her finger when she tries touching the vagina. they have an affair throughout the entire time she's waiting for her father to die, and again she never touches or kisses this woman, but needs to feel wanted and "used".

In Iran, would they not face the death penalty if caught??? Besides legality, deathbed duty leaves you have absolutely no personal time. She is the intercessor between dying dad, nurses, and rest of the family. But shes sneaking off in the night from her father's deathbed to have faux butchfemme semi-public sex in a country where that would have them both killed.

So the month long lesbian affair during her father's death is clearly just a woman she probably met for a day or two and did not have sex with. but turned into a sexual metaphor for something else... Loss, grief? an orientalist escapist fantasy? From death, or from her "closet" heterosexuality? I'm not smart enough to know what kind of complex fruedianism is at play with the mock reversed father/mother substitutions. but theres a cutaway flashback where she asks her parents what intermarital rape is. he scoffs and explains to her that this doesn't exist for Muslims. her mother goes on to justify her own rapes as a traditional cultural custom, just a logical exchange, sell your body for his money. if you don't want sex, you just hope he's kind and not violent.

Protagonist never looks at or describes any Iranian men, let alone dates any of them, she's exclusively into rich white or east asian american males. She desperately wants all the things heteropatriarchy afforded her mother in the 90s, trading sex and childbirthing in exchange for a birkin and free rent and to research just for fun. but she's desperately afraid to take it up in a country where she can't tell the police if she's been raped. Iran is a place where she could practice political lesbianism to make a silent protest against Islam, but this whole situation just doesn't make any sense. So she invents an elusive hot older neighbor girlfriend who helps her silently revolt against all the things that she completely accepts and desires in the US. And she is way too smart not to realize that this is what she is doing.

She is completely aware of how much of a contradiction she is, claiming to be a superior feminist but desperate to be a white man's housewife, writing a holey, bad dissertation on love marriages but seeking out prostitution marriage, recognizing the leftist academic jargon is just a mask over all her hypocrisy and conservative traditional views caused by weird childhood shit, but there's no time at the end to resolve anything. the entire second half was this long, agonizingly slow wait for the fathers death. Then, shes officially fired from UCLA, asks her mother to pay the rent, and there's a rushed 3 page non-ending.

But 4 years later she finally got the perfect JOB, and published the book 2 years later!!!! A win for feminism.

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writesvani · 2 months ago

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rude anon is insane bc your first response was extremely mild and normal? then to come back saying you couldn’t handle it when you simply disagreed and kept it pushing is…..a choice.

but also, are they reading the same story? I feel like reading the asks you responded to on their emotions would help too bc as you’ve said before, he is not currently in love with reader. he’s not making the best choices and is definitely confused but there isn’t any emotional cheating going on and everyone is being very human even if it’s not what that reader wants to see. also, they have an outside view on the story. as readers; we know things the characters don’t. that anon is sort of rushing the story with how extreme their judgements are. but I get it, stories create those emotions that make people feel things. I just think if you can’t handle the slow burn and are coming to the author, who knows the story and characters better than you, expecting them to be understanding of your harsh judgements that you’ve concluded from what is really the tip of the iceberg of the story, you’ll likely find that they’ll respond in a way that shows their knowledge and care for the story they’re creating. and again, you didn’t even respond to them rudely so they truly tweaking out for what. but, you’re doing great so far! love the story !

EXACTLY. like let’s be so serious — i wasn’t even rude. i disagreed. respectfully. and i literally said you’re allowed to interpret the story how you want. but if you hate every character, think the plot is irredeemable, and you’re casually diagnosing fictional people like you’re running an emergency psych ward in my inbox… what are you doing here? is someone forcing you to read this fic under duress? blink twice, anon.

it’s actually hilarious that they came back foaming at the mouth over a casual response and then wrapped it up with a passive-aggressive little “grow up” like… be serious. you hid behind anon, wrote a dissertation dragging every single character like they personally keyed your car, and then had the audacity to tell me to grow up because i didn’t clap for your spicy little takedown? the projection is insane.

this story is messy. it’s layered. it’s 600k words of human disasters trying to make sense of themselves. and sorry it’s not giving “toxic man changes in 3 chapters and proposes under the rain.” jk is confused. nina is complicated. y/n is flawed. people are flawed. and if you can’t handle that — if your threshold for “grey morality” is this shallow — you’re reading the wrong fic.

you don’t get to slap “that’s just my opinion” on a rant filled with “he’s disgusting,” “she’s pathetic,” “this is sad,” “he’s a narcissist,” and then act shocked when i say “maybe this story just isn’t for you.” that’s not “constructive criticism,” it’s a roast session dressed up as deep literary analysis. and babe… no mask on earth could make that cute.

anyway. huge love to the person who sent this ask because YOU get it. and you’re the reason i keep writing. y/n and jk have a long-ass road ahead of them — and yes, it’s messy, slow, and deliberate. if that’s not someone’s cup of tea, they can find another flavor. i’m not running a customer service hotline for people who hate every sip but keep coming back for refills.

#vanireplies🌷

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sunshincwitch · 1 year ago

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Closed starter for @fengforhire

Location: Brewed awakening

Brewed Awakening was the perfect place for a struggling witch desperate to finish their dissertation, earn enough to buy fresh bread on the occasion, and work complex spells to track those effected by horrific curses their family had created when the cafe was quiet. Cham liked to work on the curse between the breakfast and lunch rushes, her brain working best after the first round of espresso and the knowledge that if things got too terribly dark and depressing that they could depend on a rush of customers to distract her.

She was painting a new tracking board, her last one having met an unfortunate end when it spontaneously caught fire, and didn’t even process that a customer had come in until she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. “Shit, sorry be with you in just a moment” she called, muttering a quick spell to keep the ink from drying prematurely, before rushing back behind the counter. “Sorry I’m working with an ink that has acorn, alder and balsam fir as the base. And the acorn and alder are getting around great but the balsam fir really wants to take over and make the pigment yellow, which wouldn’t be the worst thing except it throws off the balance and-“ Cham cut herself off with a start as she realized she was rambling and while she was fairly certain the woman in front of her was a witch she had no idea her practice or realm of influence and could very well just be spouting nonsense to a poor unsuspecting customer. “I’m sorry, I get a bit of tunnel vision when I’m working. What can I get you?”

#shes a dork that doesnt process not everyone is plant focused #* chamomile : closed *#* chamomile : starter *#* chamomile : thread *#* chamomile : jac *#* chamomile : jac 001 *

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tobiasdrake · 2 years ago

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Spicy hot take incoming, of the "They're going to take away my critic's badge for this" variety.

So I recently watched F.D. Signifier's video on anime and I was thinking about some of the things he said about the Isekai genre. Why it's often both attractive and yet shallow all at once; A Power Fantasy more interested in having fun letting characters be powerful than in putting in the effort to earn their power.

This got me to thinking about Isekai stories that I've consumed. I'm a big fan of Digimon Adventure, particularly the first series. Existing before Isekai became such a huge thing, Digimon Adventure played more to the fear and uncertainty of random kids being dragged into this other world and forced to become child soldiers - While still managing to retain a relatively light tone.

But as I was thinking about this, I realized something. One of the best uses of the Isekai concept for storytelling that I've seen... was from a shitty internet comedy webseries made on a $5 budget.

I wouldn't be surprised if you haven't heard of The Legend of Neil. It's a very shallow parody of the first Legend of Zelda game; The kind of parody where the jokes they're using are things like, "LOL Why do we keep leaving items around the dungeon for the hero to use?"

As gaming satire, it's bottom of the barrel. It's crude and vulgar, and there are more than a few elements that haven't aged well, such as aggressively Q-coded villains, a particular character death that seems more mean-spirited than tragic, and multiple references to Harry Potter.

But there's something there, underneath it all, that comes to my mind when I think about Isekais. Because The Legend of Neil, for all of its faults, has something it wants to say. There's a dissertation on masculinity and abuse buried beneath the dick jokes and "LOL Enemies drop healing hearts?"

The main character Neil comes from a comically abusive home life. He suffers endless deluges of abuse from his family, his girlfriend, and the customers at his retail job. And yet for two seasons, his top priority is just getting back there. The game world is different and weird and scary, and it expects a lot from him. And he just wants to go home.

This isn't uncommon fare for the Isekai brand. "Life sucked but now you're here and you're the hero! Go be awesome!" But for Neil, there's something deeper here. First, because it isn't a power fantasy. Neil gets his teeth kicked in constantly. He's frequently outmatched and forced to drag himself to the Faerie, blinking on critical HP and begging for another round of her healing.

Neil is, suprisingly for the Isekai genre, a survivor archetype rather than an Action Hero archetype. He's not actually that powerful. In fact, there are some enemies that are so strong, he never overcomes them.

But also because Neil gets what he wants. At the end of season two and start of season three, Neil gets to go home to his girlfriend that cheats on him, his family that abuses him, and his job that demeans him. And then he gets to make an actual choice about whether or not he's truly happy in this environment. Whether the way he's treated is actually the way he wants to live.

It's here that the Isekai transforms into something... Different. Neil returns to the game world of his own volition. Again, it's not unusual for the protagonist to like the Isekai world better than his shitty life. But the lack of "Neil is powerful!" elements coupled with Neil's own personal agency in choosing the Isekai world makes it something more.

The Legend of Neil uses Isekai, not to tell a Power Fantasy, but to tell a Recovery Fantasy. By choosing the game world, Neil self-actualizes and accepts the responsibility being placed on him there, but he also makes a statement that maybe some people need to hear: "It's okay to burn your bridges, cut your abusers out of your life, and walk away. Even if the future seems uncertain, even if the alternative is scary, it's okay for you to leave. There are better things out there waiting for you to find them."

And so throughout the third season, we see a very different Neil. One who is here because he actually wants to be here. A Neil who opens up to the people around him, rebuilds his relationships with the people in the Isekai world, and puts in actual effort to try and make himself strong enough to face the challenges ahead because this is the life he chose for himself.

...I mean, he never really appreciates the Faerie and that subplot drags down the whole show. It's. It's still not great.

But the point is, in an ocean of "My life sucked but now it's great because I'm in an Isekai" stories, this vulgar, low-budget webseries was using that framework to actually sit down and talk about topics of abuse, rather than slapping on an Unearned Power Fantasy and calling it a day.

And I think a lot of Isekai writers could learn from that.

#isekai #the legend of neil #writing #power fantasy

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