#having the most spot-on characterization out of anything that came out in last years? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

evergreenabyss · 2 years

Text

As Good As It Gets

Pairing: Pantalone x Gender Neutral Reader, Aether x Reader if you squint

Warnings: none. I will write smut tho so minor's DNI

Content: Fluff

Words: 2.5k

Synopsis: You've heard the gossip about the traveler in Snezhnaya for years. When he appears in your greenhouse, you're excited to speak to him and his floating companion.

A/N: listened to As Good As It Gets by Abigail Barlow & Ariza + The Apartment We Won't Share by NIKI. A bit of a test since I've never written for Genshin before and we know almost nothing about Pantalone lol. Watch the characterization age like milk.

You sat reclining on a settee with a book and a cup of tea in your greenhouse when you heard the sound of the door swinging open to reveal a blonde-haired traveler and his floating companion.

Your fiance had really outdone himself when he gifted you this lovely greenhouse for your birthday a few years ago. It had come with plants from all over Teyvat, from Sumeru Roses to Cecelias from Mondstadt. In the center of the room, past a small forest of various green plants, a pool of lotuses had been built in the middle. There was nothing you enjoyed more than taking a walk through here with your hand around your fiance's arm as the two of you chatted about your day.

Though, he never talked much about his day, preferring to hear about yours. Anytime you told him about the hardships of taking care of your plants, he suggested letting the gardener do the work. You always refused. You loved your plants like they were your own children and you could not neglect them. He didn’t understand why you would do the work yourself when he could pay someone else to do it but he saw it brought you joy so he didn’t press too much.

Which brings you to today. You’d finished caring for your plants early so you’d sat down to relax with a warm cup of that tea you liked from Liyue and a new light novel from Inazuma when two strangers burst into your sanctuary.

You would have been afraid by the panicked look on their faces but you always had guards in here patrolling and your fiancé gifted you a dagger for emergencies as well. While these strangers were dressed weird, they didn’t look like they wanted to hurt you.

Setting the book down, you asked, “Are you alright?”

The blonde strangers let out heavy pants like he’d been running. Snezhnaya was having another dreadful snowstorm that lasted weeks so you were unsure why this person would be running around outside, let alone be wearing a crop top.

“Sorry for disturbing you but would you mind helping us hide?” The blonde stranger asked with pleading, apologetic eyes.

In response, your eyes narrowed to study him. “Who’s after you? Why?”

“Paimon thinks we should hide somewhere else. The fatui weren’t that far from here.”

“We’re not criminals I promise.” The blonde boy smiled, putting a hand on his heart.

This was the most excitement you’d experienced in months. Everyone in Snezhnaya usually stayed inside to avoid the snowstorms. It was much different from the warm breezy days of Liyue where you came from. You had to know more about these two strangers. “Alright, get behind those plants over there. If they come in here, I'll get rid of them.” You pointed to the tall green leafy plants deeper in your greenhouse. Your guards would walk past it but you doubted they’d spot anything in there.

The blonde stranger nodded, doing as you commanded, with his floating companion following him. You opened your book again and took a sip of your warm tea. Not much later, a fatui agent walked into the room. You put your book down to see what he had to say.

“I apologize for the interruption.” You smiled at him and gave him an encouraging nod to continue. “We’re looking for a blonde haired traveler wearing strange clothes with a floating companion. Have you seen them? They were spotted in the gardens.”

“If I may ask, what has this traveler done?”

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you, my liege. It’s confidential.”

So, this must be harbinger business. Interesting. “No, I'm afraid I haven’t seen anyone fitting that description. Are these people dangerous?”

“Yes. If you do see them, be sure to report the information to the Regrator or one of us.” You slowly nodded, your eyes slightly widened at his words and with that the agent left the way he came.

Per your fiance’s request you always kept the blue jeweled dagger he gifted you strapped to your thigh. You’d never needed it before and those strangers didn’t look dangerous. Maybe you should alert one of the fatui agents…

And yet, you’d heard so many things about the mysterious traveler journeying across Teyvat. This was the same traveler who had stopped storm terror from destroying Mondstadt without killing the creature. He’d also changed the opinion of the electro archon during the vision hunt decree. This traveler had accomplished so many feats. You’d never had the opportunity to talk to someone so unique.

Against your better judgment, you went towards the plants where you directed the mysterious traveler to hide. You spoke in a soft tone so as to not alert the nearby guards and said, “You can come out now.”

The blonde traveler shimmied away from the plants with their floating companion following behind him. He thanked you for your help while his floating companion whispered something in his ear. You heard the word fatui but not much else.

“I assume you should probably be on your way soon but I don’t suppose I could trouble you to stay for some tea before you go.”

His companion started to look nervous as she shook her head, “No, that’s okay. We need to, uh, go do that thing, right, traveler?”

You frowned. Even to a traveler, your relationship with the fatui continues to isolate you. “Oh, I understand. I’d leave through the well in the gardens. It’ll take you unseen through the waterway, in case they’re still after you.”

The traveler’s face grew perplexed, “There’s just one thing I don’t understand. If you’re with the fatui, why’d you help us?”

“I’m not a member of the fatui.”

“Then, why are there fatui agents all over? And I swear I saw that symbol.” He trailed off, his eyes scanning the greenhouse.

It was true there were many fatui agents scattered over the estate. At first, it made you anxious to be surrounded by so many members of the fatui but your fiance insisted. Harbingers had many enemies and he wouldn’t have been able to live with himself if something happened to you when he could prevent it. They didn’t ever bother you though. In fact, you’d been visited by the other harbingers more than the nearby fatui agents spoke to you.

Near doors and large windows, the Fatui and Regrator’s symbols were hung on the walls throughout the estate. It was to warn anyone who broke in they were in the domain of a harbinger and they would not be treated with mercy. It also served to remind you that you’d be protected every time he journeyed to Liyue for a business trip. In the foyer, the Regrator’s symbol decorated the wall in the form of a large emblem, next to two royal blue banners with the symbol of the fatui. You must admit it did move you how much he desired to protect you, but it was a bit off putting to guests.

“Yes,” You swallowed, “that would be because of my fiance. He, um, is a harbinger.”

“A Harbinger!” His traveling companion shouted, with eyes blown wide.

“And you still helped us?”

“It looked like you needed help. Though, I must confess I was curious to find out about the traveler the many tales nations have stories about. Snezhnaya rarely gets such interesting visitors.”

The traveler was silent for a moment as he pondered staying or heading out. With a smile, he looked back up at you and said, “Okay, we’ll stay-”

“What?!?” His companion shouted but he ignored her.

“As long as we’re gone before your fiance comes home, it should be okay.”

You nodded at his statement and gestured for them to take a seat while you asked one of the servants to bring you some more tea and snacks. You learned the mysterious traveler was named Aether and their pouting companion was Paimon. In the many tales, the locals gossiped about you’d never heard their names but they sure did act like the stories suggested. Paimon floated with a pout until the food was set on the table, a few dishes from each nation. In no time at all, she dug into the snacks while you continued to speak with Aether.

He told you he was looking for information about his sister as he journeyed across the nations, foiling the plans of an organization with nefarious goals. It didn’t take a genius to know he was referring to the Fatui.

Your fiance didn’t share much about the organization he worked for. You knew he was involved in many business ventures and he liked to share his theories with you but he didn’t get into the specifics. On many occasions, people seemed unnerved around. However, he’d only ever been sweet to you. Despite your protests, he bathed you in his riches, gifting you anything from small trinkets to establishments you enjoyed. And though he was a harbinger in charge of the nation's wealth, he always made time to kiss you each morning and night, asking about your day. The only times you’d ever seen him drop that pleasant smile of his was when Il Dottore visited the estate. You didn’t have to ask to know he didn’t want you involved in his harbinger activities.

“I’m sorry,” You replied, with a frown, “I haven’t heard anything about a blonde girl wearing strange clothing. I’ve only heard gossip about you.”

Aether rubbed the back of his neck and set down the empty tea cup, with a small smile, “That’s okay.”

Your gaze moved to a clock that hung in the greenhouse to see a few hours had passed. Though your fiance typically worked later, his subordinates would likely tell him the traveler had been near the estate. He’d be back soon.

You bowed your head to the traveler, standing, “Thank you for your company, Aether. I hope the archons put me in your path again someday. It’s time I keep my promise. Come,” You gestured to the door leading to the gardens.

You grabbed two winter coats, putting on the more expensive one, and headed outside to the well. You’d briefly looked around to check for guard, relieved to see none close by. The traveler and his companion stood there, looking up at you wondering how they should get down there. “Climb the rope to get down there but be careful. The water’s probably all frozen.”

“Thanks.” Aether grabbed hold of the rope. He stepped on top of the stone, ready to begin when you stopped him with a light hand on his arm.

“Wait, take this cloak. It’s awfully cold on account of the snowstorm. Plus, it might help you blend in.”

The traveler paused, moved by your generosity, “Are you sure? What if your husband finds it missing?”

“He buys so many I doubt he’ll notice.” You chuckled, “It would also make me feel better knowing you have something to keep you warm. I probably shouldn’t say this since my fiance is technically after you but I hope you find your sister. Good luck, Aether.”

It was his turn to let out a chuckle as he began climbing down the well. You bent over the well to watch him climb down and walk deeper into the water well. Once he was gone, you shivered from the sheer cold of one of the many months long snowstorms this country unfortunately had.

You entered the manor through the double doors and shrugged off the coat, handing it to one of the servants. Walking past the dining room, you noticed two plates had been set on the table. If your fiance wasn’t already back, he apparently would be for dinner. Before sitting down, you went to the bathroom to freshen up, drying your hair from the melted snow. Seeing no food set at the table, you elected to warm up by the fire.

Slowly, your body started to warm up, especially when a pair of arms wrapped around your middle. He was wearing that perfume again, your favorite. Cedarwood, Cypress, and Nutmeg with an undertone of Patchouli. A smile broke out across your face as he left a kiss on your cheek, trailing his lips down your neck as his hands intertwined with yours continuing to linger across your torso. Tilting your head to rest on his left shoulder, you let out a content sigh, mumbling, “You’re feeling uncharacteristically affectionate today.”

“If you feel that way, I must be neglecting you.” He whispered, his timbre deepening. His lips were by your ear as he spoke, “I’m told a stranger invaded our estate but my agents were unable to catch the trespasser. Are you alright, darling?”

You twisted in his arms to face him. He moved a hand to caress your cheek and you could feel his warm breath fan your face. You nodded and connected your lips with his to reassure him. It started out with you leading a slow, comforting kiss but he quickly took over in a passionate, fast movement. Before you knew it, he’d guided you backwards until your back was against the stone of the fireplace. Without breaking the wet, warm, embrace of your lips, he’d lifted your legs to wrap around him. When the two of you had broken for a breath, your gaze went to his eyes to see the worry drowning in them.

The traveler didn’t seem to be that dangerous. Aether had actually been pleasant company, telling you many stories but also not pressing you on your relationship with one of the harbingers. He was different compared to other people you knew around here. Every friend you’d tried to make was either scared of him or wanted to get on his good side to secure finance. They didn’t care about you. The traveler cared more about exchanging stories. Why was your fiance so worried?

“Who is this stranger?”

He didn’t answer at first, moving his head to linger at the crook of your neck. “Promise me you won’t meet them again.”

It was foolish to assume he wouldn’t find out but he didn’t sound angry with you for spending time with the traveler. However, it also didn’t sound like a question. He was pleading with you and that made you tense.

“I don’t-”

“I try not to ask for much. I know you feel lonely here but forming a friendship with the traveler is dangerous.” I’m He moved his head away from your neck and brought your hand to his lips. “Promise Me.”

“I,” You paused. He was right about rarely asking you for things but why did it have to be this. It was the first time you’d felt alive in weeks. You wanted to see the traveler again. You also couldn’t make a promise you intended to break, he didn’t deserve that. “I promise.”

#pantalone x reader #genshin impact #fluff #regrator x reader #fatui x reader #idk what i'm doing lol #there's so little about him a snezhnaya #but i wanted to write something cute and fun

190 notes · View notes

wrestlingisfake · 1 year

Text

Double or Nothing preview

MJF vs. Sammy Guevara vs. Jack Perry vs. Darby Allin - MJF defends the AEW men's world title in a four-way, so the first man to score a pinfall or submission on any opponent will be the winner and champion.

On September 29, 2021, MJF characterized Guevara, Perry, Allin, and himself as "the four pillars" of AEW. (I assume it's an intentional reference to the Four Pillars of Heaven from 1990s All Japan.) The idea was that all four men were top recruits in AEW's first year, and all four were clearly being groomed for big pushes, so the company was being built on their work. Sooner or later they had to put all four into one program, which finally happened when the other three challenged Max on March 15.

My problem with this pillar bit is that all four guys are clearly still works in progress, while other homegrown talent (Britt Baker, Orange Cassidy, the Acclaimed, Wardlow, Ricky Starks) have begun to overtake them. If these guys were really carrying AEW, then any two of them would be able to headline this show on their own. Someday that will be true, I think. For now, though, the main draw of the match is that it's a four-way, simply because four is the number MJF pulled out of his ass in 2021.

This is being set up like every four-way main event you've ever seen. The heels (Sammy and Max) have teased that they'll be in cohoots, and then that they can't get along. The challengers (Sammy, Darby, and Jack) have discussed making sure one of them wins and MJF loses. The babyfaces (Darby and Jack) seemed to be on the same page, but seeds of doubt have been planted. Typically this intrigue is totally dropped once the bell rings, and they'll all brawl for 20 minutes until the heel champion steals a pin. Then the announcers will act like Max has discovered an obscure loophole in the rules, as we haven't seen this in literally every four-way ever.

Kenny Omega & Adam Page & Nick Jackson & Matt Jackson vs. Jon Moxley & Claudio Castagnoli & Bryan Danielson & Wheeler Yuta - This is billed as "anarchy in the arena," so it's basically a brawl all over the building, until someone scores a pin or submission inside the ring. Page and Moxley have been feuding since October. In March, Page brawled with Mox's entire team (the Blackpool Combat Club) all the way to the ring and ran into Omega and the Young Bucks. After that the BCC was fighting separate wars with Page and the Elite, until the babyfaces joined forces on May 17. It's the first time Page has been on good terms with the Elite since 2020.

When they did this type of match last year, Eddie Kingston poured "gasoline" all over Chris Jericho, so that's the kind of craziness this match has to live up to. I don't mean "they have to do a fire spot," more like "someone has a chainsaw, but never actually uses it." Note that last year's anarchy in the arena didn't settle a damn thing and they came back with a "blood & guts" match a month later, which also didn't end the feud. So don't count on the Elite finally getting revenge. If anything I expect the BCC to get even more heat with even more heinous brutality.

Chris Jericho vs. Adam Cole - This is billed as an unsanctioned match. Nominally that just means AEW isn't responsible for what the participants do to each other, but practically speaking it's just another street fight with no count-outs or disqualifications. There's nothing to prevent the Jericho Appreciation Society from interfering, so Cole is bringing in ECW legend Sabu for backup.

The story is that Jericho and his goons beat up Cole, then handcuffed him to the ring and forced him to watch as his girlfriend Britt Baker got beat up by Saraya. So technically Jericho didn't directly give Baker a black eye, but Jericho and Cole are both playing it as if that's what happened. That means Cole wants to super-mega-fucking-murder Jericho, and Jericho must stoop to the most despicable atrocities imaginable to avoid getting super-mega-fucking-murdered.

I'm pretty sure Cole has to win this, so that Sabu can do at least one big crazy spot that helps secure the victory. I have no idea what 58-year-old Sabu can actually do, but I'm certain he'll try to do it.

Jamie Hayter vs. Toni Storm - Hayter won the AEW women's world championship from Storm in November, and this is the rematch. Six months ago Hayter and Britt Baker were the top heels, feuding separately with Storm and Saraya. Hayter's title win triggered a double turn, with Storm and Saraya becoming sore losers and later aligning with Ruby Soho as the Outcasts. The heels need to maintain their heat on their way to some kind of multi-woman blowoff match, but I don't think any of them are going to win the title before that happens. Hayter retains.

Dax Harwood & Cash Wheeler vs. Jeff Jarrett & Jay Lethal - FTR (Harwood and Wheeler) are defending the AEW tag team title. Mark Briscoe is the special guest referee. The story is that Mark and FTR became close friends after their 2022 rivalry, but Lethal is an old friend/rival from even further back. Lethal's faction is clearly only pretending to be nice to Mark so he can give them tips on how to fight FTR. FTR don't want him to get taken in, but they can't help but be all passive-aggressive and FTR about it. So the story going into the match is that we don't know what Mark is going to do.

I am extremely bored with Lethal and Jarrett chasing every title in AEW, and this story in particular has been extra-boring. So I hope they just do the basic thing and have Mark call it down the middle so FTR can end the feud.

Wardlow vs. Christian Cage - This is a ladder match with Wardlow's TNT title on the line. The title belt will be suspended above the ring, and the first participant to pull it down wins. Ladders will be placed around the ring, although technically I suppose Christian could just stand on the shoulders of his heavy, Luchasaurus.

The gimmick here is that Christian is a veteran at winning ladder matches, but ladder matches are super-violent and Wardlow is great at violence. There's also a sense that Wardlow vs. Luchasaurus is going to happen at some point, so I'm pretty sure Wardlow will retain and that won't really settle anything.

Jade Cargill vs. Taya Valkyrie - Cargill already defeated Valkyrie last month to retain the TBS championship, but this time Taya is not prohibited from using her finishing move. The whole feud is that both women use a double chicken wing facebuster, and Jade acts like she has proprietary rights to the maneuver. Jade is 60-0 and someone has to end her win streak, but I don't think it's Taya. But it's probably about time for Jade to need more help putting opponents away, so I expect a lot of interference.

Blackjack Battle Royale - Orange Cassidy invited literally anyone to challenge him for the AEW international title, and when 20 guys stepped up he proposed a battle royale. I don't know if a blackjack battle royale is the same as a casino battle royale, or what the rules are going to be.

AEW has announced the following 21 participants: Ari Daivari, Bandido, Big Bill, Brian Cage, Chuck Taylor, Dustin Rhodes, Jay White, Juice Robinson, Keith Lee, Kip Sabian, Komander, Lee Moriarty, Orange Cassidy, Penta el Zero Miedo, Rey Fenix, Ricky Starks, Swerve Strickland, The Butcher, The Blade, Tony Nese, and Trent Beretta.

They're building up Orange for a very dramatic title loss, but that needs to be a singles match against one guy, not 20 people ganging up on him and one getting lucky. I guess you could move the belt to a cocky heel, with the idea that he couldn't beat Cassidy in a one-on-one situation. But defending the title in a battle royale was his idea! He has to retain here to not look like an idiot.

Malakai Black & Brody King & Buddy Matthews vs. TBD - Black's team, the House of Black, has issued an open challenge with their AEW trios title on the line. Under "house rules," you get a twenty-count outside the ring instead of ten, you can't escape a fall by getting to the ropes, and the challengers can name any additional stipulation except no-disqualification. It sounds like Max Caster, Anthony Bowens, and Billy Gunn intend to accept the open challenge, but I don't know why AEW wouldn't simply book that match and advertise it. So my best guess is they'll be interrupted by some heel team. Either way I think the House of Black retain.

Matt Hardy & Jeff Hardy & HOOK vs. Ethan Page & Austin Gunn & Colten Gunn - This is set for the pre-show. Matt and Private Party (Isiah Kassidy and Marq Quen, who are both sidelined right now) have been feuding with Ethan Page and the Firm since October. Of late Jeff and Hook have joined the fight, and it seems like they've successfully disbanded the Firm. Page wants payback, so he's recruited the Gunns (who were in the Firm for about two weeks but never mind that now). If Matt's team wins, he gains control of Ethan's contract, in revenge for the months when the Firm controlled Matt's contract. The stip is kind of pointless if Matt doesn't win, so I think he will.

#aew #double or nothing #mjf #jungle boy #jack perry #darby allin #sammy guevara

5 notes · View notes

tokiro07 · 2 years

Note

I just remembered that Undead Unluck came out in 2019. So it looks like you where hit by Apollo’s dodgeball when you coined the tag ‘Fouryearsandananime’

Impressive

I think that the one-shot was 2019, cus the serialization definitely started January 20, 2020. At the time my New Years Resolution was to keep track of all of the media I consumed that year and my opinion on them, and Undead Unluck was the second manga I did of that year the day it started (the first was 100 Girlfriends on the 5th). You can also find that date from other sources, that's just the main reason I remember it

Anyway, four years isn't actually a shot in the dark, it's a trend I've noticed reading Jump for as long as I have. Obviously, you have your perpetual manga like One Piece which go until they're good and ready to end, and you have countless manga that get canceled by chapter 20, but the ones that are only intended to go for four years tend to strike that balance between “goes too long” and “died too young” pretty well in my experience

Anything less than that and I tend to feel like there's a lot of story left to explore, anything more and I start to feel fatigued. My Hero Academia is eight years old now and I for one definitely haven't felt the magic I once did in the last couple of years. Jujutsu Kaisen just turned four, and while I only really started getting an interest this year, I'm still not exactly grabbed by the current arc. Whether that's because it's an incomplete story and it will hold up better on reread or because the author's habits are informed by the length of the story, I don't know, only time will tell, but if it goes past year 6 I would definitely say it overstayed its welcome

Katekyo Hitman Reborn used to be my absolute favorite series, but guess where it started to lose me? Around chapter 230, at approximately the 4-and-a-half-year mark. It got me back at the beginning of the next arc when it introduced *dreamy sigh* hiiim... but then it botched that arc so hard and officially cost KHR my top spot in lieu of...

Medaka Box! The current king of manga in my heart, and Undead Unluck is the only thing to even remotely challenge that assertion in almost ten years. Medaka Box ended at EXACTLY four years with 192 chapters (48 chapters a year), and clearly covered every topic that the author actually wanted to. There were more things that I wanted to be explored, but there's nothing that I think still NEEDS to be. The characterization of the two leads, their relationship with each other, their relationships with other people, the commentary that the author wanted to make about Jump manga as a whole, it all wrapped up so well and it holds up amazingly on reread for me

Assassination Classroom and Majin Tantei Nougami Neuro, two works by one of my favorite authors, Yuusei Matsui, both went for four years and ended perfectly. Could more have been explored? Sure, but again, they were both so satisfying with what they were

Demon Slayer, while I think it has some unexplored ideas and probably should have given Nezuko a bit more focus by the end, definitely told the story it wanted to and anything beyond that would have most likely started to drain the good will it had built up

Of course, just going for four years isn't enough. If something is canceled at the four-year mark, it's still canceled, and that means it's missing something inherently. Nurarihyon no Mago was canceled at around chapter 200 because it clearly intended to go for at least another full arc and wasn't holding peoples' attention well enough to last that long. It was popular enough that Jump allowed that final arc to be condensed into four chapters released seasonally across the next year in Jump Giga, but that was so unbelievably rushed that it almost felt like it would have been better to just cut it off midfight like they'd done in Jump proper

Ending at one or two years is also fine so long as the author actually intends for that to be the case. Enigme was definitely canceled, but the story it told in just 55 chapters doesn't leave any room for how it could have possibly gone longer aside from just stretching out the story beats. Chainsaw Man, despite only being part 1 of however many, could have left off at two years without promising a sequel and I would have been satisfied. Death Note ended at 108 chapters, just over two years, and I don't think I need to elaborate on that

Ultimately, it's the opportunity to tell a complete story that aligns with the author's vision that makes a solid manga; writing the ending that they want rather than trying to tie up loose ends because the rug was pulled out from under them without warning, but even then, going for longer than four years so frequently feels like too much for me

Haikyu, Shokugeki no Soma, Toriko, even Dr. Stone (four and a half again!) all lost me past the 200-chapter mark, regardless of how fondly I still regarded them

Sometimes manga are forced to go on longer than they want to! Hokuto no Ken was only supposed to go for three years, and had the PERFECT ending to the story it had told at that point, but then was renewed for two more years and those years were DREADFUL and ultimately ended on a hollow note

TL;DR: as much as I'd love to have Undead Unluck in my life as long as possible, ~200 chapters across four years in my experience gives the author enough time to tell a complete story without fatiguing the audience. Undead Unluck hitting that mark should allow Tozuka to tell the story he wants and leave me satisfied rather than wearing both of us down and ultimately souring the experience retroactively. If it ends earlier but clearly wraps up all of the plot points and character moments, fine, but at the pace it's going, I can easily see it lasting another ~45-90 chapters, ending between Summer 2023 and January 2024

Also, #fouryearsandananime is a joke on Community's #sixseasonsandamovie

#undead unluck #fouryearsandananime #thatonearo #asks

9 notes · View notes

kyotarou · 3 years

Text

title: a little more noise

pairing: kyōtani kentarō x gn!reader

synopsis: in a world of constant silence, he’s the noise you need in life, even if he’s a bit quiet.

warnings: fluff, angst, mutual pining, slowburn, strangers to friends to lovers, lotta tropes and cliches, two swear words if i counted correctly

word count: 4.8k+

a/n: i wrote this in two days which i’m very proud of, go me! always wanted to write a kyōken fic and here it is. kinda scared to post this bc he’s quite tough to characterize imo and i’m terrible at writing longer pieces. oh well :,) no indentation because that’d be such a pain. hope you like it, feedback is always appreciated! (this is also my first time writing slowburn so please lmk if it’s still too fast)

Your parents were not bad people—that was a fact. They were kind, and you did everything an ordinary family would; eat dinner together, go on trips, attend school events. Things were quiet, a little too quiet for comfort. It never felt… right. You heard stories of parents arguing, nasty divorces, and custody battles. They tore your friends apart, made them feel a pain you could never understand. You knew how terrible it was, yet sometimes you wished you went through that to fill the silence in your home. The same monotonous, “good mornings,” and “hellos,” became sickening to hear. You told yourself to push on until after graduation where you’d escape. As the years dragged on, you weren’t so sure you could keep your sanity intact.

It was how you met Kyōtani Kentarō, a second-year from your school who was in a different class. Your friend told you of a gym nearby that was secluded at night. With a sly grin, he said he met up with students from other schools to smoke, and sometimes as a hookup spot. You wrinkled your nose at his comment and flicked his forehead. These were the people you hung out with; not so bright, but easygoing and fun. They were the ones who satisfied the need for noise, the bit of excitement in your life.

You snuck out after your parents had gone to bed. It didn’t hit until halfway through your walk that several things could happen. You were alone with nothing to defend yourself with except your phone and bare hands. Looking down at your outfit, an old dark hoodie and some sweats, you hoped it was ominous enough to ward people away. Besides, the last thing you wanted was to go home and wallow in its emptiness.

To see the lights on in the gym was a surprise. Upon closer inspection, you heard the squeaking of shoes and the cannon-like sounds of balls slamming the floor. You peeked your head through the door. The only person inside was a boy, no older than you. The first thing you noticed was his oddly dyed hair which resembled a tennis ball. The second was his piercing gaze as he turned his head and stared at you. You jumped. He looked as though he was going to charge at you. Instead, the boy huffed, walked to the other side of the gym, and picked up the ball. You spotted a familiar white and blue jacket on the ground.

“Seijoh?”

The boy turned to you again. “Yeah.” His voice was low, but powerful enough to rumble the earth.

You swallowed. “I go there, too.” This was a waste of time, you thought. You should’ve gone home, and you almost did until he spoke again.

“Never seen you before.”

The ball flew into the air with the boy tailing it. His body bent in a way you didn’t think was possible, face pinched in concentration. It hit his hand then the ground with the loudest smacks you had ever heard. It was incredible, but also scary. He picked up another ball behind him and did the same, and again, and again, until his side was empty and yours was strewn with several blue and yellow volleyballs. The more you watched, the more mesmerized you became.

“Can I stay?” You felt stupid for asking, but if he was trying to concentrate, you didn’t want to disturb him. Surprisingly, he nodded. You sank to the floor with your knees to your chest and listened to the constant thwacks and smacks all night.

You only learned his name a little while after. It was by accident. You were walking by a group of boys at school when one of them called him Mad Dog-chan, and you bit your lip to stop your laughter. Luckily, they didn’t notice. It was kind of cute the more you thought about it. It fit his appearance quite well, too. That night, you found him at the gym once again. Instead of a curt nod, you waved.

“Hey, Mad Dog-chan!”

You immediately regretted your words when he stopped bouncing the ball and flashed you a murderous look. You muttered a hurried apology and sat on the floor in your usual spot. He whacked a ball a couple of times then came over to grab his water bottle. After a few quick gulps, you expected him to get back on the court, but he stared at the spot beside you.

“It’s Kyōtani. Kyōtani Kentarō.”

Some nights, he didn’t practice. You sat in a playground nearby with soda and snacks from home. Originally, they were meant to replenish his energy when he overworked himself. Now, you were the one eating most of them, with Kyōtani nibbling on a custard bun as you wolfed down chip bag after chip bag. One thing you could say with confidence was Kyōtani was a great listener. At first, you sat in awkward silence. Then, you started rattling off all the things you did that day. It led to you talking about anything and everything, including the funny-looking dog you saw on the street last week. You hoped he didn’t think he reminded you of it.

Talking to Kyōtani was equivalent to talking to a wall. If anything, you were talking at him. He barely looked your way, and if you asked a question, he responded with a grunt or a simple, “Yeah.” Even though you wished it was two-sided, it felt good. You could finally break the silence that shrouded you for years, something you yearned to do but never had the confidence to. With Kyōtani, because of how quiet he was, you felt you could say anything without judgment. You did this for a while, rambling to him in the playground while he sat and listened.

Together, you sat on the swings with fruit sandwiches you made earlier that day. Your feet dragged against the sand and dirt as you swung back and forth. It seemed like Kyōtani enjoyed it. You noticed him eyeing your sandwich while licking his lips. You laughed and handed the rest to him. You started your daily tangent; woke up, ate a meat bun for breakfast, went to school, did homework, then came here. Somewhere along the way, you mentioned how you were home alone since your parents had lots of meetings to attend. You wished it was a little more lively. It was why you left the house every night, to find some noise in the suffocating void of it all.

You talked some more about your family, which you never did. You were too distracted to see Kyōtani’s head perk up. He stopped munching on the fruit sandwich and leaned forward, trying to look at your face. You continued to ramble, feeling your irritation slowly rise.

“Am I a bad person? I mean, they’re really nice, and I adore them. But it’s unbearable sometimes, and then I end up feeling like an asshole.”

You let out a dry laugh, ignoring the pain of the metal chains holding up the swing as they dug into your palms. You pressed your lips together in a thin line, unsure of what to say next. You chose to draw circles in the sand with the tip of your shoe.

“I understand how you feel.”

You looked at Kyōtani in surprise. You waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. The night felt a little brighter.

The last thing your “friends” expected was for you to ditch them for him. “Looks like a tennis ball,” one of them said. You chuckled since it was your exact thought when you first met him. You were relieved but also disheartened when they didn’t seem to mind too much. At least you knew where they stood.

Hanging out with Kyōtani was much different compared to your nights at the gym or the playground. You got lots of stares from the third-years who never thought he could behave like this. Some people in your class whispered about the two lone-wolves banding together. You pretended not to hear.

“You’ve been cheery lately.”

You stared at your mother, trying to process her words. They never asked about you, which you grew to appreciate. It meant not having to force out a conversation. You almost brushed it aside until she spoke again. Your chin rested in your palm as you picked the vegetables on your plate, stomach full with snacks.

“I met a new friend.”

Your mother raised her brows, impressed. “Oh? Tell me about him.”

“How do you know he’s a boy?”

“Just a hunch.”

You sighed, continuing to stir your food. “He’s quiet. A little weird, but he’s nice. I can talk to him about anything.”

“That’s good.”

Your father glanced at her, and she shot him a strange look. Don’t, it said. He backed off and ate as if nothing happened.

You managed to weave yourself with the other boys from the volleyball team. They were a scary bunch at first, most of them glaring at Kyōtani the moment he walked through the door, but they were nice to you. He had left his jacket at the playground one night, and you made a mental note to return it to him the next day. Except, like Kyōtani, you also forgot about it. When you saw the boys flood to the gym for practice, you raced home then back to school and shyly followed a group of girls to the gym who were there to gawk at the captain.

During their break, you nervously approached Kyōtani and poked his shoulder. They watched you return his jacket but didn’t expect his, “Thank you,” afterward. When you left, Oikawa bugged him to invite you back. Kyōtani shrugged. He usually ignored him at all costs. Oikawa took it as a good sign.

Hanging out with them was a lot more fun than you anticipated. They were better than your previous friends, and even though most of them didn’t like Kyōtani, they seemed to be warming up. Your favorite moment was the movie night at Oikawa’s house. The living room was packed, with little room to wiggle, but it was comfortable. That night, you laughed so hard your stomach hurt, and the tensions between you, Kyōtani, and the rest of the boys dissolved. You belonged here.

Yahaba caught him staring at you outside your classroom. You sat across from another classmate, helping her with a few assignments for her art class. You posed and let her take pictures. Some were silly, but the others captured your features perfectly. In one of them, you rested your cheek in your palm with the tip of your pencil wedged between your teeth. You looked at the camera through your lashes as your classmate continued to snap more shots.

“Cool it.” Yahaba clapped him on the shoulder.

“I’m not jealous.”

“Never said you were.”

You helped your classmate pack her things. While you followed her out the door, she twirled a lock of hair around her finger and fiddled with the hem of her skirt. You bid her goodbye as her friends called her over, then turned to Kyōtani and Yahaba.

“Ready to go?”

Yahaba nodded, as did Kyōtani. You walked ahead of them, listing off that day’s menu. Behind you, Kyōtani’s eyes zeroed in on your moving form, the shift of your hips as you took each step. From an outsider’s perspective, it looked like he was honing in on a kill. Yahaba prodded his arm.

“Don’t be a pervert.”

You swore you heard a slap.

Friday after school, your parents were home from work much earlier than anticipated. A game show played on the television. They barely noticed your arrival until you called out. The TV turned off, and your mother looked over the back of the sofa with a wry smile. Your father drummed his fingers on the arm of the sofa. His eyes stayed glued to the empty screen.

“Welcome back,” your mother greeted. She glanced at the boxes in the kitchen, filled with old plates and cutlery you hadn’t touched in a while. You assumed they were throwing them out.

“So…” she drawled. “What do you think of Tokyo?”

“Tokyo?”

Your hands shook as you set your school bag down on the kitchen table. The boxes made more sense. You remembered your father talking about a school his friend’s son attended. Nekoma, was it? He told you how great it was there, that it’d be easy to make friends in such a populated area.

“Tokyo…” you repeated. A heavy lump formed in your throat. “It seems… nice. Why do you ask?” You couldn’t stop the waver in your voice. Your mother caught on too.

“Dad’s company moved areas. It’s a big shift, but it’s too good to lose. So-”

“We’re moving.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you were about to.”

Your head hung over the table. There was a crushing weight in your chest. Of course they wouldn’t tell you. They never did. It was too much to not expect this betrayal. If you told them how happy you were at Seijoh, maybe things would’ve been different. I could’ve prevented this. You shook your head. You couldn’t stop an entire company from moving, nor could you convince your father to find a new job in Miyagi. You had to follow them like you always did.

“If we can stay, we will, but most likely-”

“I’ll start packing.”

You grabbed your school bag and stomped to your room, vision obscured by your tears. Why now? Why did it have to be when you were starting to fit in, when you found real friends who made you happier than ever? Just when things looked like they were turning around, you were back at square one. You’d be there for a while, stuck in a new city far away from Seijoh. If you were with your old group, you wouldn’t have been this upset. But to not see them again—Yahaba, Hanamaki, even Oikawa.

You opened your phone and stared at the lock screen: a picture of you and Kentarō from the movie night at Oikawa’s. His arm was slung over your shoulder, a scowl on his face, but the peace sign he held up made it worth it. You remembered taking it and everyone gasping that Kentarō would even allow anyone to take a picture of him, let alone save it. Your heart fluttered. When did he stop being Kyōtani and become Kentarō?

Kentarō faced the empty playground. He sat in the right swing as he always did, scanning the area for any sign of you. In his hand was his attempt at a fruit sandwich, messily covered in cellophane with whipped cream oozing between the bread. A bandaid wrapped the tip of his finger where he accidentally cut himself. Damn those strawberries.

Kentarō kicked at the dirt. He waited, and waited some more, but after twenty minutes, you didn’t show. He pulled out his phone and sent you a quick text. Your absence made his skin crawl. His phone lit up with a response. Sorry, was all you said.

He couldn’t shake the heaviness as he trudged home.

The view outside the window gave you an excuse to be distracted. The voices of the boys were loud, but you chose to focus on the birds circling the courtyard. Two of them swooped down and landed on the thick branch of an old tree. They ruffled their feathers and nuzzled their beaks. You saw your old friends walk out of the main building. The one who introduced you to the gym glanced up. His eyes met yours momentarily. He went back to talking to someone you didn’t recognize and led them to the other side of the campus.

You stared out the window until Mattsun shook your shoulder. You turned and put on a faux smile. Your classwork was still strewn across your desk even though it was lunch. A few drops of chili sauce had landed on your math homework. You scowled at Hanamaki, his face stuffed with food.

“Oops.”

You wiped it off with an eye roll then stuffed it into your bag along with your other notebooks.

“What’s buggin’ ya?” Mattsun asked.

You shrugged. “Nothing. I’m ready for the day to end.” It was the last thing you wanted. There was a bit of time before you left for Tokyo, but the countdown moved fast. You ignored Mattsun’s opposing look and ate. They couldn’t know yet.

Kentarō knew there was more than what met the eye, but he bit his tongue. He was paranoid, he told himself. The guilty look on your face as the boys laughed, unaware of the shift in attitude, said otherwise. He threw his arm over the back of your chair. You relaxed, but the sad look remained. Remembering the fruit sandwich he made, Kentarō grabbed it from his bag and slid it across your desk. You raised your brows.

“What’s this?”

“I made it.”

You unwrapped the sticky mess of whipped cream and strawberry jam. Kentarō watched you take a small bite, followed by a bigger one.

“This is delicious!”

He showed you the tip of his finger. “The price I paid for it.”

Your knees knocked against his under your desk. He flinched. You pressed your finger to your lips, then to the bandaid. “Thank you. Hope it feels better.”

Your cheeks swelled as you took more bites than you could chew. Pink syrup stuck to the corner of your mouth. Cute, Kentarō thought.

“What was that?” you mumbled. A crumb lodged itself in your throat. Mattsun rushed over and slapped you so hard on the back it echoed. A handful of other students looked over. Hanamaki scolded you for gulping down your bottle of water without taking any breaths. Kentarō cheeks turned a darker shade than the strawberries when you gripped his arm for support. You didn’t ask again.

“Cute,” he whispered anyway. He knew you wouldn’t hear over Mattsun’s teasing. “You’re cute.”

Kentarō invited you to the movies. He planned on having it at home, but his parents occupied the TV, and his laptop was too small to enjoy anything. He met you at a plaza a walking distance’s away. He let you pick the movie, curious about your tastes. Action? Romcom? When he looked at his ticket, it was for the latest horror movie. Critics raved about it, calling it the best of the decade. Impressive.

The movie started a while ago. The critics were right, it was scary, a lot scarier than he expected. You enjoyed it like a comedy movie, clapping your hand over your mouth when the entire theater shrieked at the killer, including Kentarō.

“You’re a sadist,” he whispered.

“Am not, just think it’s funny.”

He shook his head. Another jumpscare happened, this time worse than before. Several people jolted in their seats and bits of popcorn flew into the air. Kentarō didn’t realize he had sank into his seat—your seat, actually—until you nudged his foot with yours.

“Scared?” Your breath was warm against his ear.

“Sorry.”

You patted his hand which clutched the armrest with a vice grip. Kentarō’s heart beat faster.

“It’s okay,” you said. “I’m right here.”

The movie ended and the lights switched on. People left the theater with wobbly legs and pale faces. You headed to the exit holding your empty cups and popcorn bags with Kentarō in tow. He wished the movie was longer. Not because he enjoyed it, but because the smile on your face made it worth it.

Your room was bare besides your bed and desk. Most of your stuff was packed neatly in the many cardboard boxes piled inside your now empty closet. It’d been a few weeks since that Friday, and you still hadn’t told Kentarō or any of the boys. You weren’t sure how to break the news. He noticed how clingy you became, tailing him wherever he went at school. Not that he minded. You talked less at the playground. It was him who filled the silence instead, though his daily recaps weren’t as interesting as yours.

Next week was the last with Kentarō. In your shaky hands was an envelope, the edges indented from how hard you gripped it. You took out the letter inside, read it over, then slipped it back in. You thought about sealing it for the umpteenth time that day. Before your tongue swiped against the flap, you quickly scanned over the letter once more as if the words would disappear. You’d seal it later, you told yourself.

Your over-the-top cheeriness was so evident it was painful. They asked what was up, and you said you were simply having a good day. Kentarō knew better than that. At lunch, when you were away from everyone else, he prodded your shoulder and asked what was wrong. You frowned at him, then smiled.

“Everything's fine.”

Before he could probe further, you grabbed his wrist and led him to the cafeteria.

“There’s chicken! It’s your favorite, right?”

Something slipped out of your pocket. Kentarō thought it was your school notes. He bent down to pick it up and saw it was a white envelope, unsealed. You were already gone, dragged away by his teammates. He didn’t want to pry, but curiosity got the best of him. Turning the other direction, he grabbed the note inside. His name at the top caught his eye.

Dear Kyōken-chan,

He snorted.

Sorry for not telling you this sooner. I’m still trying to process this too.

A crease formed on his forehead as he squinted. The letter was quite long, the handwriting messy. He repeated the phrases in his head over and over, but he couldn’t fully understand what they meant. He flipped it to the back and sighed when there was more. He decided to scan it this time, except a handful of words made him reread it in depth.

“Kentarō!” In your arms were several wrapped buns from the cafeteria. He tried to stuff the note into his pocket, but you already saw.

“Oh.” The buns fell to the ground. “Oh no.”

Kentarō’s face was a mix of frustration and hurt. The hand holding the letter shook, the other balled in a fist. You wanted to run, but if you moved, you swore you’d collapse.

“(Y/N),” he murmured. “What is this?”

A weary laugh escaped your lips. “Um. Can we go somewhere else?”

Not waiting for an answer, you grabbed his wrist and led him to the school’s courtyard.

“One week,” he huffed.

“One week.”

You sat beneath a large, shady tree in the farthest corner away from the main building. Kentarō rubbed his temple and sighed. He held onto your letter. You fiddled with your fingers in your lap.

“For how long?”

“Probably forever. Not literally, but it’ll feel like it.”

“So you’re graduating from Nekoma?”

You nodded. Kentarō tapped his knuckles against his cheek.

“Wished you told me sooner.”

You blinked at him wearily. “You’re not mad?”

He shook his head then turned away. You grew quiet for a moment. He took it as his chance to butt in.

“So, you like me?”

“It’s all in the letter.”

“I want to hear you say it.”

You looked away. Your hands were clammy, and the air felt ten times hotter. The word you used was stronger, much stronger than he anticipated. It made his cheeks burn and a smile threatened to pull at his lips. He wanted to hear it come to life.

“I love you, Kentarō.”

It sounded sweet, almost tooth-rotting sweet. Kentarō chewed the inside of his cheek. He liked you, he really did. He just wasn’t sure if it was the right moment to say it. Would there be a right moment? After this week, you’d be in Tokyo in another school—a rival school, to make matters worse. He wanted his words to hold weight, and in that moment, they didn’t. Not as much as he wished.

“If you don’t feel the same, I understand.”

“I do.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but the bell cut you off. Kentarō hoisted himself from the ground then held his hand out. His palm was rough under yours, but his touch was gentle. Once you got to your feet, you let go, but he kept his pinky locked with yours.

Friday arrived quickly. Sadness filled the air as you said your goodbyes, thanking your classmates and teachers for the short, but pleasant year. After school, the team led you to the gym with your eyes covered. The boys’ gym was decorated with a banner and a table with food. There was even a cake, the word Seijoh iced and crossed out on top. You let out a hearty laugh before inviting the boys to dig in.

“Of course,” said Oikawa. “I paid for it.”

On one side, Mattsun smeared frosting over Hanamaki’s cheek. On the other, Oikawa tried to spoon-feed Iwaizumi only to be smacked on the head. You sat on the floor next to Kentarō and looked around with a big smile. His thumb reached out to wipe a dollop of frosting from the corner of your mouth. The phrase, “Time flies when you’re having fun,” held up its end of the bargain. When you looked outside, the sun had begun to set.

You thanked your friends, took one last photo, and managed to hold in your tears until your walk home. You promised to visit and to cheer them on at nationals, even if you were on Nekoma’s side. They laughed, waved with sad smiles, then watched you leave.

Kentarō caught up with you a third of the way home. His hand slipped into yours, a habit he recently picked up. It wouldn’t last much longer. You stopped a few houses down from yours. You didn’t want to let go, not yet.

You learned many things this year. One, life wasn’t fair. It never was. Two, people weren’t as shitty as you thought, proven in your new friendships. Three, seeing Kentarō cry made your heart ache in a way you never wanted to feel again. His head fell against your shoulder with a hard thump, tears soaking through the uniform you’d wear for the last time. You rubbed his back and pressed your lips to the top of his head.

“Stay,” he pleaded.

“I wish I could.”

“Please don’t go.”

“I have to.”

Kentarō looked up through his watery lashes. Your lips connected. Who initiated it was a mystery. His kiss was slow but fervent. You leaned in, deepening it until you swore your teeth clashed. Kentarō’s hands rested on your hips, yours on the nape of his neck. His kisses were magnetizing, drawing you closer with each movement. You broke apart for air, foreheads pressed together. He still had tears in his eyes, and so did you. You stayed like that for a bit, wrapped in each other’s arms until you knew you had to let go.

“Call me everyday, please,” he whispered.

“I promise. I swear on my life.”

You kissed him again.

“Goodbye, Kentarō. I love you.”

“Goodbye, (Y/N). I’ll be waiting.”

“So will I.”

Kentarō didn’t say it, but he didn’t have to. You knew he loved you, proven by his daily text messages and calls thereafter. Even if it only lasted a couple of seconds, you never missed a day. Sometimes, you heard his teammates' voices in the background. The audio would become crackly before a new voice replaced your boyfriend’s: Mattsun, Yahaba, Oikawa, and even Iwaizumi.

Boyfriend. The fact made your stomach fill with butterflies. Kentarō was yours, and you were his.

It’d been months since you last saw him in person. You finished your second-year at Nekoma, a school that welcomed you with open arms. You met lots of people, found new friends, but the boys from Seijoh never left your mind. The picture you took hung on the wall of your new bedroom, a space you were still getting used to. Summer vacation was here, and you promised to come home to Miyagi for a week or two. On the train, you checked your phone to see how many kilometers were left. Just a few more minutes.

When it came to a halt, you burst from your seat, duffle bag in tow. You sent Kentarō a text, only to be face-to-face with him the moment the doors opened. You leapt into his arms, knocking him back a few steps. His chin rested on your shoulder as you hugged, swaying side to side.

“I missed you so much, Ken.”

“Missed you, too.”

Your fingers clasped around his, resting perfectly in the dips between his knuckles. Hopefully, he hadn’t dropped his habit. The months you were apart flew by, but they were also the longest you had ever witnessed. Seeing Kentarō for the first time in a while felt like a breath of cool, fresh air.

You tugged on his wrist, ready to head to town. He stayed put.

“What is it?”

“I love you.”

He grinned shyly at you. Kentarō brought color into your dull life, your source of noise in the thick silence. The summer wouldn’t forever, and you had another year left to endure. But as long as he was there, even kilometers away, you’d get through it together.

285 notes · View notes

slow-burn-sally · 3 years

Text

I watched Say Anything last night for the first time in many years, and I was so so impressed with it. I’ve always loved that movie, but I thought maybe it might not have aged well. It came out in 1989, and 80s movies have a tendency toward cheese.

I was pleasantly surprised to find that it still kicks all sorts of rom-com ass.

I feel like this was largely due to Cameron Crowe doing an amazing job at portraying a far more realistic teenage experience than most rom-coms do. And of course the cast was phenomenal.

His protagonist, Lloyd Dobler (John Cusack) isn’t a handsome jock, nor is he a nerd. But he is into sports (kickboxing! The sport of the future!). He’s also into music, and has an awesome mix of not having any real dating game, but being the sort of likable guy everyone knows, and has an awkward sort of charm.

He lives with his sister (Joan Cusack, his actual sister), and her small son, and they have a very realistic relationship. Part genuinely fond, partly extremely irritated with each other.

His best friends are all girls, and unlike in films like My Best Friend’s Wedding, or Some Kind of Wonderful, they don’t actually fall in love with him or step into the role of love interest. They’re just his buds. And they have relatively well fleshed out characters. Especially Lily Taylor who does a fantastic job as that one friend who’s obsessed with the guy who’s no good for her.

Diane Court (Ione Skye), the actual love interest is very academic, but also just stunningly pretty. She’s not your typical, vapid cool girl that Lloyd has to try and impress by being some sort of “bad ass”. She’s relatively introverted and focused on her studies, but she’s also gorgeous, so there’s none of that “smart girls have to wear glasses and have bad hair” trope, which, while it’s fun, could honestly use a break. Smart girls look like all kinds of people. And speaking of smart girls, she’s far more intelligent book-wise than Lloyd, and instead of resenting this, or being overly intimidated, he is unstoppably impressed and proud and supportive of her smarts.

Diane’s relationship with her father (John Mahoney) who raised her, is complex and has a lot of emotional depth. Rather than just going for the “mom died of cancer/in a car accident etc.” trope, they simply had her choose in court to live with her father. “It just felt safer,” her character says. This is pretty rare in cinema. The acknowledgment that sometimes, when a couple separates, it’s the dad who’s the best suited as a full time caregiver, and that impressed me.

Diane’s relationship with her father takes an almost equal center stage spot next to her relationship with Lloyd, and the titular line is spoken not to Lloyd, as one would expect, but to her dad. “You can say anything to me!” she exclaims to him during a tense moment. They clearly share a deep bond, and it takes some heart-wrenching twists as the movie progresses and we learn that her father has been involved in some shady financial dealings.

Diane herself, while stunningly beautiful, sweet and kind to boot, has her own issues and her own complex characterization. She’s torn between her conflicting duties to her father, her boyfriend and her advancing academic career and she struggles convincingly with all three as the movie progresses.

I even hesitate to call this film a rom-com. Maybe because where there some genuine laughs, there’s also a lot of drama and deep emotion portrayed, and not just for the usual reasons. There’s themes about family, duty and obligation, the fear of life after high school, and dating pressures that are just so poignantly rendered as the main characters fumble their way through the plot.

I just adored it and would recommend it to any newcomer, or people too young to have been introduced to it by friends or older siblings. It’s more than just a Peter Gabriel song and a boy, dramatically holding a boom box over his head to serenade a girl. It’s really so much more than that.

#say anything #cameron crowe #john cusack #joan cusack #john mahoney #meta

70 notes · View notes

traincat · 3 years

Note

Can you explain the fantastic four volumes? Why are they separated like that, are they different continuities, should i read them all, who wrote which, and such? They‘re very confusing to me

Welcome to the terrible world of comics renumbering, aka the reason we have volumes. The long and short of it is, at some point, the big comics publishers got it into their heads that more people would buy their comics if they had easy jumping spots, the logic behind this being wouldn't it be more friendly for new readers to pick up an issue #1 than an issue #389? Which, sure, in theory, until you have, for example, six different Fantastic Four #1s, some of which were published very close together, and then no one knows at first glance where the hell they should start. But Marvel persists in this practice anyway because for some reason they think that one of these days it's actually going to work. So yes, unless otherwise noted -- because volumes are a publishing quirk and not a specific continuity quirk, so for example something like Spider-Gwen, which until recently took place out of the main continuity, has multiple volumes -- they're in main continuity, with the notable exception of Fantastic Four v2, kind of. I'll get to it. As to who wrote what, it varies -- some volumes have a ton of writers on them, some only have the one, like Fantastic Four volumes 4 and 5. It kind of depends on the length of the volume. Should you read them? It depends on if you're looking to be a completionist or not. If you're still confused, that's because it's unfortunately a feature of this particular system, not a bug. It is not a new reader friendly solution to having a huge series with hundreds upon hundreds of issues, despite the fact that Marvel just will not stop doing it.

If you look at most long running Marvel series, you'll probably note that most of their "volume ones" are actually extremely long -- Fantastic Four v1, for example, lasts from issues #1-416. The first renumbering takes place in 1996, and this one kind of has a good reason behind it. In the mid-90s, Marvel was, how can I say this nicely? A complete dumpster fire, and I don't mean from a storytelling perspective. In 1996, Marvel temporarily outsourced production of two major titles -- Fantastic Four and the Avengers -- to the studios of former employees Jim Lee and Rob Liefeld. This outsourcing took the form of what appeared to be a "hard reset", especially for the Fantastic Four, who during v2 got an updated '90s origin story with updated '90s costumes and updated '90s personalities, essentially brought back to the beginning of their continuity without memories of their previous iterations. This is because, as it was later explained, though the Fantastic Four and the Avengers seemed to die in the main continuity, they were actually sheltered in a bubble reality by Franklin Richards. It's. You know. It is what it is. So essentially, volume 2 of Fantastic Four (1996) takes place in a separate continuity -- you can skip it and not miss much. Volume 3 (1998) picks back up in the main continuity when the Fantastic Four return to their own continuity and try to pick their lives back up while the world has moved on without them. It's VERY good, from a characterization standpoint -- a lot of volume 3 is written by Chris Claremont, who handles all the characters with an extreme amount of nuance. From a plot perspective -- I mean, it's totally fine as long as you don't care about anything making sense ever. Claremont was not here to write a coherent plot; he was here to write extremely an extremely insightful and sensitive Johnny Storm, and I applaud him for that.

This is where the numbering gets messy again, though! Because you know what looks really dramatic on the front cover of your comic book? A big ISSUE #500. So when volume 3 was approaching what would be, in what's called legacy numbering, issue #500, they switched the numbering again. Fantastic Four goes from Fantastic Four v3 #70 straight to Fantastic Four #500. There is no Fantastic Four v3 #71, something that can be confusing for new readers who are JUST trying to follow a book from issue to issue. From my perspective, I'm generally in favor of a return to legacy numbering, because it really is so much simpler to just have whatever number the issue actually is on the cover instead of having to be like "Fantastic Four issue #499 is actually Fantastic Four v3 #70." But Marvel hates simplicity! Loathes it! We need more new readers! Who definitely will pick up anything labeled #1 and not worry about THAT WHOLE MESS behind them! So while Fantastic Four retained the legacy numbering for 88 issues, it soon switched things up again when the entire title of the book was renamed. When Johnny dies in the Negative Zone in Fantastic Four #587, the book was renamed from Fantastic Four to FF (just the initials) to reflect the change. This is a creative decision that I don't personally hate -- I think it makes its point well -- but also it really makes this entire period of Fantastic Four hell to read when the book comes back with Fantastic Four #600 after 12 issues of FF, but the FF title also remains, and the two are supposed to be read interchangeably at that point. Good luck figuring out how that one's supposed to go on first glance and thanks a lot, Marvel.

After Hickman's run wrapped up with Fantastic Four #611, Marvel entered a period where it was relaunching a lot of its main series basically every year. This is why there's a Fantastic Four v4 (2013), closely followed by Fantastic Four v5 (2014). These are basically one writer brief runs that are encapsulated in their own volumes for very little reason, especially since towards the end of Fantastic Four v5 it reverts to legacy numbering once again, with the last four issues of the run being Fantastic Four #642-645. Congratulations, nobody could have thought of a worse system. Then there came the three year Fantastic Four publishing ban (a real thing that happened) and when the book relaunched in 2018, it was with Fantastic Four v6, which is still using its own numbering, with issue #36 just released. It's essentially like that scene from Pacific Rim about how the kaiju keep coming faster and faster, except, you know, with comic book runs.

So here's a very basic reading order: Fantastic Four #1-416 -> Fantastic Four v2 #1-13 -> Fantastic Four v3 #1-70 -> Fantastic Four #500-588 -> FF #1-12 (at which point FF separates into its own book with three separate volumes) -> Fantastic Four #600-611 -> Fantastic Four v4 #1-16 -> Fantastic Four v5 #1-14 -> Fantastic Four #642-645 -> Fantastic Four v6 #1-36.

That brings you up to the present, not counting series like Secret Wars (2015) which slots in between #645 and Fantastic Four v6 #1, or things like annuals, which are issues published sometimes annually that may be standalones or may be important to the main plot, you can never be sure. Comics are terrible.

As for whether or not to read all of that, like I said above, it kind of depends on you as a reader, whether you're a completionist, whether you bounce hard off certain decades or creators, etc. There's really no one right way to tackle a comic series that spans 681 issues and six decades, especially not when the publisher doesn't exactly make it easy for anybody to keep track of what exactly they're supposed to be reading next. I do hope that clears up some of the confusion for you, though, even though the truth is the way a lot of American big two comics are published are, very simply, in an incredibly confusing, extremely new reader unfriendly, archaic way.

#*replies #traincat talks comics

32 notes · View notes

likeastarstar · 3 years

Text

8:34 PM- Jimin

(A/N: this characterization of jimin isn't how I see him, this is fiction bitch I made it up!)

Jimin was hard to define.

He wasn't a nice person, per say. It was doubtful anyone would say he's rude or malicious, but he wasn't the type of man to go out of his way to do anything for anyone. His morals were shaky at best, his motives were almost entirely self-centered and as long as he got what he wanted, that was fine.

"Who is that?" He asked the nearest person when he had spotted the girl with sleek hair and less than present eyes. You weren't aware of his stares, completely zoned out halfway across the room.

The girl next to him said your name like it was a bad word, raising her eyebrows in a particular way.

He didn't know what the look meant, or how it should've affected what he did next, but he got up anyway to go introduce himself.

You, as it turned out, were not a nice person either. You however, erred on the side of cruel but had friends despite this on account of your humor- which was both unexpected and offhand. You were a balancing act, a perfect example of duality. There was the side of you that was thoughtful and pensive but it was ruined by your stubborn will to do whatever first came to mind as a good idea. You could be crass and mean but would always marry it with the truth so well the receiving end would thank you for your input.

You were also a sort of social enigma in your circle- mainly because of the floating stories about you, which a man like Jimin, who had no interest in gossip whatsoever, wouldn't have heard of.

"Hello," He said, walking up to you. He was quite a bit taller than you and was the opposite in every way. In both looks and demeanor, the contrast was stark.

You peered at him in response, sipping the drink in your hand lightly. You had been floating around the party for hours now, getting sucked into conversation after conversation so thoroughly Jimin was confused as to how you knew so many people here. "Hi," you said quietly, your expression reading slightly disinterested.

"I'm Jimin, what are you drinking?" He asked calmly. His voice was deep and mellow, making you gravitate towards him unconsciously. The man was good looking, that was clear. Part of you was intrigued by him, a larger part was wary.

"It's a vodka sprite." You informed shortly, telling him your name a beat later. He nodded approvingly and offered to get you another, which you agreed to since you weren't exactly looking forward to buying yourself another.

"Are you here with someone?" He asked, gesturing to the bar. He moved in a way that felt too smooth to be real, a finesse to all of his gestures that made you want to pay attention to him as much as he wanted to do the same to you.

"I'm here with a lot of someones. I know about you." You said, smiling a little. You were almost positive he was the kind of guy who had girls falling for his charms easily, the piercing gaze, the fluffy quaffed hair, the full lips that always seemed to be sporting a smirk like he knew a secret he wasn't letting you in on. Too bad you had heard things about him, from friends of friends and overheard conversations at social gatherings.

Jimin raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Do you?"

"I do," You grinned, nodding. "I've heard about the way you treat girls. It's awful- you're kind of the worst, you know that?"

Jimin was taken aback by her bluntness but wasn't exactly disagreeing with her. "And why would you say that?" He chuckled, taking a step towards you. Jimin had to admit, your willingness to be so honest was disarmingly attractive and if you kept smiling at him like that he'd find himself completely defenseless.

"I would say that because you broke up with your last girlfriend of a year and a half over a text message and then proceeded to sleep with her roommate." You explained, taking a sip of the drink he had just bought you and taking a step towards him as well. "You haven't heard of me?"

"I'm sorry to say I haven't," He answered quickly, still not disagreeing with your accusations. "Who told you that very fun fact about me?"

"The roommate." You shrugged. "She said you have an interesting tattoo somewhere- is that one true as well?"

Jimin smirked and shrugged offhandedly. "Would you like to find out?"

"No," You laughed, bruising Arlo's ego slightly. He frowned and took a step back, which only had you laughing again. Jimin was conflicted- on one hand, he had just been turned down. On the other, your laugh was the most charming thing he had ever heard. You noticed him back off and took his hand to keep him near you, still with that smile on your face. "Oh, I'm sorry- I didn't mean anything by it. But come on, if you were in my shoes- meaning, if your friend told you all of those things about me, would you still want to talk to me?"

"Yes," He laughed ironically, "You're gorgeous, you could tell me you're the worst person on this earth and I would still want to talk to you."

You pressed your lips into a conflicted smile and looked up at Jimin, crinkling your nose slightly as he studied your facial expression. It was one of those looks where you clearly had a thought forming in your head and while usually Jimin was quite good at determining what people thought of him, with you things could go either way.

"Well maybe I'm not as desperate for affection." You shrugged, turning your attention back to your drink.

You didn't feel like indulging anyone's ego. Not even someone as pretty as Jimin. You finished your drink off and nudged Jimin for another, smiling when he agreed immediately.

"Do you know what phase the moon is in tonight?" You asked, following Jimin to the bar.

You kept close behind him, making sure to always keep at least one finger in physical contact with the man. Jimin felt heat from where you touched him, but again couldn't determine what it meant. Were you just trying to make sure you didn't lose him? Or were you flirting?

"No, I don't really pay attention to that stuff." He shrugged, wondering who the hell kept track of the moon. He got the attention of a bartender and ordered another vodka sprite for you and a whiskey for himself, wishing he was at home and could just drink wine instead. It was dumb of him not to just order what he wanted, but his older brother once said a man ordering a glass of wine at a bar was like announcing to the world that he was 85 and golfed on the weekends to avoid a loveless marriage- and Jimin really hated golf.

"I think it's a full moon. This building has a rooftop garden, did you know that?" You asked.

"No, why would I know that?" He snorted. You shrugged, taking your drink in one hand and thanked Jimin quietly as if you was being forced to. It made him laugh, the way you were only begrudgingly nice to him. "So you've heard all of those things about me, why are you humoring me right now?"

You sighed, looking around the room. "Did you notice that every girl here is either wearing a neutral color? I mean seriously, no one thought to wear anything interesting? And the men- they're all in casual suits that age them." You commented, scrunching your nose.

Jimin looked down at his attire immediately, realizing he too was wearing a casual suit that probably did age him. Then he looked at what you were wearing- a jade green dress that was too complicated to describe. All he knew was that it was sheer in the right places and the fabric was so interesting Jimin almost wanted to reach out and touch it. You were special, that much was so clear to him.

"What are you getting at?" Jimin asked, wondering what clothes had to do with his question.

"I'm saying, I'm bored. Everyone looks the same and I've had the same conversation five times over tonight. But when you came up to me and suddenly, things seem less boring." You explained slowly. He looked down at you, slightly weirded out with how quickly this conversation was progressing.

"What I'm getting at is, do you want to go look at the moon with me?" You asked, pointing towards the roof.

masterlist.

#bts timestamps #bts drabble #jimin x you #jimin drabble #jimin imagine #jimin fanfic #jimin x oc #jimin x reader #park jimin fic #bts fic

42 notes · View notes

theawkwardterrier · 2 years

Text

2021 fic roundup

Buffyverse

To Learn Twice

Bridgerton

and the last age should show your heart

lay your worries on these shoulders

my whole trajectory's toward you, and it's not losing momentum (call it anything we want)

Harry Potter

An Alliance with an Earl

MCU

Hold Your Voice In My Heart (Till I Can Hold You In My Arms)

When in the Depth of Winter

Blossoms Every Day

neither are you free to desist

Amicus Curiae

Day by Day (you're making all my dreams come true)

turn the dark cloud inside out (we come home)

Where the Heart Is Fixed

Now I Thought that I Was Clever (you couldn't take me by surprise)

Build Ourselves Together

sometime, I'm goin' to build a little home (for me and my gal)

from the tunnel came a voice, and it seemed to say "there you go"

All Frightful and Delightful

Outlander

for peace comes dropping slow

Here's All the Melting Thrill (And Here's the Kindling Fire)

1. Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d predicted?:

I've long said that I don't want to predict (I'm more likely to be disappointed than anything) but...more! Way, way more! Including an actual chapter fic - with a plot and an arc and multiple characters and everything (well, sort of).

2. What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted in January?:

I'd watched Bridgerton just at the end of last year, so it wasn't a huge surprise that I kicked off the year with that as inspiration. Outlander, however, was absolutely not on my radar at all until March, and even afterward it was months before I actually posted fic for it.

3. What’s your own favorite story of the year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you happiest?

I actually have a bunch that I like this time around, which is a bit unusual for me. But I think I’ll go with my whole trajectory’s toward you: even though it doesn’t have a particular line that’s a fave, one of my biggest issues with a lot of my other fic this year was pacing, and I think that I was pretty spot on in that regard there even without making the story super long, plus the characterization is good and the humor really flows; it has something of what I call “the AO3 tone,” which is something I rarely achieve.

Honorable mention to Here’s All the Melting Thrill, of course: it’s been a Project, and I’m proud of and really pleased with much of it.

4. Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them?

Small writing risk: writing Blossoms Every Day as a second person, outsider POV story. In the end, it came out pretty well, even if I was nervous about it at first (and strongly debated not posting it at all) so I think sometimes I need to ignore my instincts about these things.

Bigger writing risk: starting to post chapters of Here’s All the Melting Thrill before I was fully done with it, something I told myself to never do again. I think I planned it okay, and the scheduling did work out, but the unexpected time needed for writing some of the chapters just reinforced for me that I need to think ahead and at least get a good head start; writing chapters and posting them whenever I get a chance just doesn’t really work for me because it’s so stressful and I don’t want to let people down. However, it also reminded me of how encouraging feedback can be on a work, and how that can push you through writing more.

5. Do you have any fanfic or profic goals for the New Year?

I've already started a new Jamie/Claire fic, and I'd like to work on, finish, and post that. Otherwise, I'm just looking to go on with participating in my usual fandom stuff (perhaps with more natural enthusiasm than I sometimes felt last year), and maybe even just getting some inspiration out of nowhere to write something random, even if it's small.

Fanfic related goal: trying to make sure I comment more on the fic I read. Comments make such a huge difference to me, and I’m trying to break my bad habits in regards to them.

6. From my past year of writing, what was…

Story Most Underappreciated by the Universe:

By the numbers it’s for peace comes dropping slow, but I think that earned about what could be expected (Jamie/Claire is such an integral part of Outlander fandom, plus I didn’t realize that Brianna is so disliked by many fans - kicking things off with a story with her as the narrator and them in the background was an unintentional risk, I suppose!). In my heart, though, I think it’s Hold Your Voice In My Heart (Till I Can Hold You In My Arms) because I thought the writing there and the domesticity/family/marriage stuff was pretty solid and it got seemingly less notice than my stupid high school mock trial minific...

Most Fun:

I think maybe An Alliance with an Earl, which I see as a slightly surprising but well-integrated AU (avec some classic fast and loose Regency romance tone 😜) but I also have a bit of a fondness for from the tunnel came a voice, and it seemed to say "there you go" - it’s just weird and fun and about podcasts and commuting ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Most Disappointing:

To Learn Twice, for sure. The premise - a new slayer bonds with a newly human but struggling Angel - was actually okay, but the pacing and build is all off and the OCs didn’t get rounded well enough to carry the story properly, and it didn’t coalesce around a theme. You can always tell when my themes don’t come together because the titles feel random.

Most Sexy:

Haha, for a while I thought it was going to be either the implied sex dream/masturbation in my whole trajectory’s toward you or the equally implied actual sex in neither are you free to desist, but now I have actually written on-page sex in Here’s All the Melting Thrill - congratulations to me, even if it’s without specifics and couched in flowery language! 😁

Hardest to Write:

In different ways To Learn Twice (struggled and failed to fix the problems listed above) and Here’s All the Melting Thrill (just a long slog sometimes, especially when no one else had seen or enjoyed it and I was just fumbling around with it alone and it would have been easy to just give up).

Most Unintentionally Telling:

In an odd way, maybe Build Ourselves Together: just the idea that a sweet, gorgeous guy might chance upon someone and be kind and want to be friends and eventually more even if things are complicated with them...In a more amusing way, Now I Thought that I Was Clever aka “I think bearded Steve is hot.”

Choice Lines:

I wrote so much that even for me, the world’s biggest fan of my own fic, it’s hard to go back and find specific lines (if you have faves, feel free to let me know!). But there’s one phrase from for peace comes dropping slow that I think is really good because of the double meaning: “...whose hands construct and kill equally as love.” It’s referring to Jamie, and on its face, it can mean that he uses his hands equally for construction, killing, and love, but at the same time it can also mean that he uses construction and killing equally as expressions of love. I don’t know, I just thought it was both a good character note and a cool writing trick.

#Leah memes #fic memes

15 notes · View notes

thealexchen · 4 years

Text

One Year On: Life is Strange 2 Critique

December 3rd, 2020 marks a year since Life is Strange 2 ended. I was inspired by @smitethepatriarchy‘s text posts (here, but there are several other answered asks worth reading) and @suhaplays’s text post (here) criticizing Life is Strange 2 to write a critique about how Life is Strange 2 handled certain themes and social issues.

(tw: gun violence, police brutality, animal death, incarceration, racism. In this essay, I use the word “queer” in a reclaimed sense, as a queer person myself. Of course, spoiler warning for all five episodes of Life is Strange 1 and 2).

A year on, my feelings about this game have soured... a lot. When the game was first announced, I was overjoyed that our new protagonists would be two Latino boys. Finally, we would have a culturally meaningful, groundbreaking video game with people of color and their experiences at the forefront!

Then the game was met with immediate backlash and I utterly exhausted myself defending it for weeks on Reddit and Tumblr. Throughout 2019, as the episodes came out I became increasingly disillusioned, frustrated, and disappointed with where the story was going. I couldn’t figure out why I felt so damn miserable while playing this game.

Then in the summer of 2020, when Tell Me Why began rolling out pre-release material, I noticed that they posted a Q&A about transphobia, gave content warnings, and discussed at length about their collaboration with GLAAD, Checkpoint, and the Huna Heritage Foundation to make the game with sensitivity and proper research. I cannot speak for trans and gender non-conforming people on whether Dontnod succeeded at doing so with Tell Me Why. But Life is Strange 2 did… none of that.

Essentially, I realized that the reason why I was so frustrated with LiS2 is because it focuses way too heavily on a trauma narrative. This comes off as insensitive to players of color without any content warnings or extensive research.

Sean didn’t have to get kidnapped, kicked in the face, and called a racial slur by a gas station owner. Daniel did not need to watch his puppy get mauled by a mountain lion for the sake of a “difficult choice.” Sean didn’t have to lose his eye for the sake of heightened drama. Sean didn’t need to get called a racial slur and humiliated by his native language/beaten in the desert for refusing to sing. Daniel didn’t need to get shot— twice. Hell, all of “Faith” probably could’ve been cut— how is a church cult that brainwashes Daniel and beats Sean half to death relevant at all to the story?

Even if not all of the game’s violence was racially motivated, the consistent trauma that Sean and Daniel endure does not make for positive representation— or even good characterization. There is a difference between sympathetic characters and well-written characters, and trauma does not make Sean and Daniel any more complex or likable-- just more fucking traumatized.

LiS2 is more grounded in reality, but that also makes plot holes that much harder to excuse (Daniel’s powers being spotted, most of the Parting Ways ending, Sean’s prison sentence). But most of all, it grounds all of Sean and Daniel’s pain and trauma in reality.

There is no magicking away a town-destroying storm with time travel. Sean can’t keep his dad alive by ripping up a Polaroid. After Max unlocked her powers, she was still a Blackwell student, reconnecting with Chloe, taking photos, saving lives, and uncovering a murder mystery. After Daniel unlocked his powers, the Diaz brothers lost everything.

The game never lets you forget that Sean and Daniel are homeless, wanted, constantly in danger, and that they are never getting their old lives back. It permeates the entire game, and for players of color, just reinforces a sad, miserable, grim reality about living in the United States. It is, as @smitethepatriarchy said, potentially triggering for players of color, and it is certainly not something I needed to be reminded of.

And the representation of POC? It feels shallow and ill-researched. It would only take a Google search to find out that Dia de Muertos (a holiday to honor the dead, no less) was from October 31 to November 2 in 2016, the year the game takes place, but Daniel only talks about Halloween in episode 1. Sean and Daniel never discuss any Mexican customs, foods, or holidays. Sean doesn’t speak Spanish with his immigrant father, only during a scene when he’s traumatized (again!) by two racists, and again when talking to Mexican immigrants— in jail. Daniel doesn’t speak Spanish at all. Most of their allies throughout the game are white, including Finn and Cassidy, who appropriate Black culture with their dreadlocks.

So what’s left? Sean and Daniel’s existence as people of color is, at worst, just a narrative prop to justify everything that happens to them. They are people of color on the surface only. In a meta-sense, the game only considers the color of their skin and their last names as what is narratively important… yikes.

I don’t have anything against people who genuinely loved the game and were moved by its messages and story. But I can’t help but feel bitter that white players have the luxury of only thinking of this game as a work of fiction and not feeling any personal reliability to Sean and Daniel’s racialized trauma.

I don’t regret playing LiS2, but I do regret all the time and energy I spent defending it in the beginning. I understand now that I shouldn’t let people’s opinions get to me, nor should I feel obligated to like or defend a game for its attempts at representation. But now, I think I understand how queer fans must have felt in late 2015 when Polarized released. After following the game for 10 months, to see that Chloe’s ultimate destiny was to die and Pricefield is another ship plagued by the Bury Your Gays trope (in the ending that the devs clearly put more work into) must have been just as disillusioning and infuriating. I understand why some fans were so quick to unfollow LiS or develop mixed feelings about the series, because that’s how I feel too after following LiS2’s development from September 2018 to December 2019.

Before I end, I will admit that Life is Strange 2 arrived at a time when I needed it. I still stand by my belief that DN did a great job characterizing Sean, Daniel, and Chris without toxic masculinity, which is the best thing they could’ve done for a male-focused follow-up to a game about queer women. I love that Sean is still a canonically bisexual man of color in a major video game and that DN didn’t forget their queer audience. I love the world and characters that DN built, but I still prefer AU fanfictions of their normal lives, without all that trauma.

So, I will continue to treasure Lyla and her 10 minutes of screentime (aka the only shred of Asian American representation I can get from this series). I still reblog LiS2 fanart to support the artists. I still support Dontnod, because as Tell Me Why has shown, they are capable of researching and writing stories with more sensitivity. And let’s be honest-- I’m still gonna be hella excited if Life is Strange 3 is announced.

But so many aspects of Life is Strange 2 were bungled that it came off as a remarkably average and forgettable experience. A year on, I don’t hate Life is Strange 2, but I am writing this to move on from it.

Thank you for reading.

170 notes · View notes

irelise · 3 years

Note

Who is your favorite character - Alex or Yassen? And how do you feel this informs your characterization of one or both of them?

Thanks for this ask Valaks, just the type of meta I like!

I will say Yassen is my favourite hands down because I have a Type and Yassen’s character archetype hits all my guilty pleasures. Even before RR and all the delicious whump, Yassen already felt like a character with layers from what little we saw of him - a stone-cold professional but also one with a sense of humour; someone at the top of his field who also doesn’t particularly like his job or his employers and is just thinking of retirement; a hired killer who is purely, unabashedly in it for the money, no complex motives, no dithering over morals - yet he still had enough humanity to speak of love for a man fourteen years dead who had betrayed him, and have compassion and love for Alex who was thrown into the world of espionage far too young. That “I love you” at the end of Eagle Strike gets me every time ;_;

Then came RR: I really enjoy stories about agency (or lack thereof) and Yassen is a fascinating study of that, so a lot of my fic tends to place him in situations where he’s not entirely in control. Canon-wise, It’s easy to say that RR is the story of how he got whumped into being an assassin against his will and on some level that’s true - but he chose to join Malagosto; maybe at first he wanted to simply learn enough skills to survive, but by the time of his graduation assignment he was ready to kill, and it was only down to chance that he got cold feet at the last second. At the end of RR he consciously chose to become an assassin out of spite - (I have my own thoughts about how much sense that makes), but regardless, by that point I don’t think it’s fair to say that Yassen is purely a victim of circumstances with no agency of his own. By the time the main Alex Rider canon rolls around he’s done many unforgivable, irredeemable things under his own will.

...Having said that, I do still think that even as a fully-fledged Scorpia operative Yassen is still bound in a lot of ways, which is such a delightful contrast for me because of the way his lethality is emphasised. Here we’ve got Yassen, the most dangerous person in the room, capable of killing someone a hundred different ways without even needing a conventional weapon, but when we get a glimpse of his introspection in present-day Stormbreaker when faced with Alex, this is what we see:

“The two of them looked at each other, both of them trapped in different ways, on opposite sides of the glass.”

It’s tragic in a way that hits all my buttons - Yassen sacrifices all his morals, betrays his parents’ memory, turns his back on his own happiness (let’s not forget one of the last times when he felt pure happiness was when he decided not to complete his graduation assignment in New York and he felt like he won a battle against his own darker impulses) - and what does he get in return? A never-ending fight to prove himself the best at a profession he doesn’t even like, a lonely life destined for an premature ending, and all with Scorpia’s watchful, controlling eye in the background.

Oh dear god this reply is getting away from me. Um. I’ll leave the Eagle Strike meta for another day and just say that Yassen’s a character of very sharp contrasts - just look at the sheer range of his characterisations in fic and general fanon - and it’s interesting to poke at that. The aspect of his characterisation that rises to the forefront of each story can be completely different depending on his age, who he’s interacting with, the setting of the story, or even just what I’m in the mood to write. Canon-based AUs are particularly interesting for me just because there’s so much potential for the course of Yassen’s life - and the core of his personality - to shift completely if certain key events had changed; someday I still really want to write that MI6!Yassen fic...

Characterisation-wise I think I tend to focus on the contrast between how Yassen presents himself (controlled and graceful, deadly competence, dubious morals), with some sort of vulnerability below the surface, whether it’s something in the plot/setting (eg his precarious situation in Scorpia - I do adore your headcanon that he’s a tool Scorpia is slowly but surely trying to dispose of while wringing as much use out of him as they can), or an emotional weak spot (Alex).

Speaking of Alex, since this is already way too long, putting discussion of Alex below cut!

Alex, by contrast, I used to not be terribly interested in. Maybe it was because I was very young when I read the books, or maybe because of AH’s own writing which tends to focus more on the action and gadgets and plot than take time exploring the nuances in Alex’s characterisation. Compared to Yassen, Alex has several very strong key traits that tend to stay relatively constant when I write him: leans more to the serious side most of the time rather than pure unbridled chaos; smart mouth that he cannot and will not keep shut especially when some idiot is monologuing at him; independent and resourceful but somewhat impulsive; understimulated by “normal” life ever since Stormbreaker - which leads him into trouble, especially when combined with the fact that I do headcanon Alex as someone with a strong drive to do good and who refuses to turn a blind eye when there’s someone he can help or something he can make right.

Of course, since he’s fourteen, sometimes Alex’s intervention just makes things worse...

It’s only more recently thanks to the lovely writers and meta from the fandom that I started taking more of an interest in Alex - specifically, what happens as Alex gets older? I enjoy coming of age fic with Alex: those times where he suddenly realises he’s no longer a child spy, or the times he realises the moral views he held when he was fourteen are insufficient for navigating the murky world of intelligence - those situations where there’s no clear “bad guy”, or those times when strategic sacrifices need to be made...

I also very much enjoy adult Alex fics - just how does MI6 deal with an agent like Alex? Alex, who has a distrust of authority (MI6 in particular), who’s perfectly willing to disregard all mission parameters if he decides the circumstances call for it, who nevertheless is so effective that Jones makes the decision to keep using him - but will all of that backfire one day?

And what about Alex himself, working in intelligence without a patriotic bone in his body, with the black mark of Scorpia on his record? Alex who’s now an adult with adult coworkers and had hopes for finally fitting into a proper social circle again, only it turns out he still can’t connect with them and is as lonely as he was at fourteen? Alex, who keeps finding himself being compared to John and Ian Rider, the family that he had never really known yet condemned him to this life with no input from Alex himself?

Basically I think there’s bits and pieces of Alex’s characterisation I’m more interested in over others - and the main thing I find interesting about him is the circumstances he’s in: the government-sanctioned abuse and blackmail, the way he grows up a child in an adult’s world. So correspondingly my fic tends to focus on that rather than, say, light-hearted slice of life shenanigans around London or anything to do with Brooklands or family fic, although I’ll gladly read those from other writers! And since Yassen is my favourite over Alex, I think it would be rare indeed that I write an Alex-centric fic where Yassen doesn’t play a role at all.

#asks #meta #meta meta meta #alex rider #yassen gregorovich

37 notes · View notes

julemmaes · 3 years

Text

What The

Prompt sent by @sayosdreams: Ezra goes on his first date

acotar next gen fan fiction

A/N: definitely not what I had planned for this prompt, but I’m not sad nor surprised. Ezra is 16, almost 17, Andra is 6 and the others don’t appear. But we’re introduced to Dara (MorxAndromache’s son) who is 16, Nia (AmrenxVarian’s daughter) who is 15, and Chelo (EmeriexAzriel’s second daughter) who is 6 and Fabien (FeyrexRhysand’s second son) who is 7 are mentioned.

Fic masterlist

Word count: 6,692

Ezra didn't know he could be so embarrassed for someone else. And so scared for his own personal safety.

When Nia and Dara had told him they'd found him someone to go out with, he'd never expected the guy in question to be...well, like this.

Daniel was peculiar.

When he'd seen him arrive at the bus stop where they'd arranged to meet, Ezra had immediately felt a creepy feeling of unease, which had only increased out of all proportion when the boy whose last name he didn't even know yet had hugged him like his grandmother did every time they visited.

Ezra had stood motionless with his eyebrows pinned to his hairline for a full minute while the other one formally introduced himself, reaching out a hand toward him. He'd seen her nails polished a cheerful pastel blue and had smiled, trying to quell that wrong feeling in the back of his mind, "I like your nails."

Daniel had chuckled disturbingly - the sound still etched in Ezra's mind - and then made a very serious face, "It's to let others know I'm so gay."

The Navarro boy hadn't commented, not wanting to make an immediate bad impression with his date, but he'd found at least five ways to retort to that immense bullshit.

Daniel had linked their arms together and told him he'd take him to his favorite spot, and Ezra had been hesitant with all that physical touch. Not because he wasn't used to having someone around all the time touching him in one way or another, but because Daniel seemed like the kind of person who had no idea what boundaries were and he wasn't keen on being kissed out of the blue.

"So, what are you?" he had suddenly asked him.

Ezra had arched an eyebrow, confused, "What am I?"

"Yes, what are you silly," the other had chuckled. Silly? What the- "Gay, bi, pan?" Ezra had been dumbfounded, and he was sure that if Daniel hadn't been dragging him along, he would have gotten stuck in the middle of the sidewalk. He'd blinked a few times, trying to figure out why someone would ask such a thing for no apparent reason. When he'd still been silent, looking for an answer that wouldn't make him look like a complete idiot, Daniel had asked him again, giving him a light shove.

Erza had looked at him at that point, his expression somewhere between surprised and furious, "I don't know yet, I'm trying to figure it out."

"Oh, poor thing, I'm sure you'll understand after tonight." and again that creepy giggle, "I'll make sure this date makes you realize you're completely gay."

He hadn't told anyone he was going on a date that night, only his two best friends, and in that moment he couldn't have regretted his decision more.

He'd made up an excuse for his parents and Cassian and Nesta were now home chilling, probably doing what they did every Saturday night when they somehow managed to get rid of their kids, but Ezra just wanted to call his mom and get the hell out of that fast food.

He made a disgusted grimace, moving a chip with a handkerchief, too afraid that he would catch some kind of disease if he actually touched that food, when something under the table caught his attention. He opened his eyes wide when he realized it was a cockroach and had to suppress a gag.

"Are you okay, Ezzy?" Daniel asked him in a squeaky voice - Danny, as he'd asked him to call him when they'd arrived at the venue, "You look a little pale."

Ezra looked up at the boy, unsure whether to tell him for the tenth time that he hated that stupid nickname he'd stuck on him almost an hour ago or to let it go and try to enjoy the rest of the evening. Staring at the individual in front of him for a second too long, he gave him the most fake smile he could muster, replying simply, "Everything's fine." even if it was anything but fine. He certainly couldn't tell him that he never wanted to hear another word come out of his mouth, or that the place creeped him out so much that he was sure he'd have nightmares for the rest of his life. Or that the group of guys sitting at the table next to them looked at them so wrong every time he used the word gay that he wouldn't be surprised if they ended the night running away from them.

He'd done so many little things to make him uncomfortable that Ezra was wondering if he wasn't doing it on purpose, if he was on some kind of candid camera and if his friends would be coming out of the kitchen any minute, laughing at his misfortunes.

"That's good." resumed Daniel, then took a bite of his sandwich and some sauce, which should have been any other color but the one it was, fell on the table, "Anyway, back to what we were talking about before."

Ezra winced, closing his eyes and trying not to breathe in the awful smell of dirty water that hovered around the place. He didn't want to go back to the conversation from before. He wanted to run away.

"The first time I came out was when I was eight years old and everyone called me names, like I was telling you." Daniel nodded, continuing to chew with his mouth open, and Ezra could only avoid looking at him for a short time before the boy demanded they make eye contact. He'd explicitly asked him several times.

"Oh and then of course the first Gay Pride I went to was only a few years ago, because you know, they don't do any in Velaris and never will, duh." the boy said making an x with his fingers as he shook his head. Ezra chuckled at that gesture, more out of desperation than anything else, and Daniel seemed to take it as an invitation to continue, because he launched into a detailed description of his first time having "gay sex" with someone.

He shut his brain down, planting a tugged smile on his lips and hoping the torture would end soon.

His phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out as Daniel said, "I kissed someone for the first time when I was ten, a boy of course." He jumped from topic to topic with such ease that Ezra struggled to keep up with him and was a little grateful for that.

It was a text from Nia asking him how the date was going and that she and Dara were at the latter's house, waiting for him to ask to pick him up. He typed a reply quickly, offending her in every way possible for putting him in such a situation and begging her to come as soon as possible. He turned off the screen, putting his phone back in his pocket and then leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest and furrowing his brow as his brain perceived the words "blood" and "anal."

A not at all pleasant sensation began to blossom at the pit of his stomach.

He breathed through his nose deeply and regretted it soon after. If he hadn't ended up throwing up that night or dying, he would have given himself a weekend at a spa with the full package, sauna and all that crap and he would have forced Nia to pay for it. It was his friend's fault that he was now in this pathetic situation.

Ezra closed his eyes, trying to calm his thoughts and completely externalize himself from the outside world - something he'd learned to do on long trips to Illyria when his siblings decided to have a tantrum all at once. When Daniel didn't stop for another ten minutes and Ezra vaguely heard the word orgasm, he stood up abruptly, bringing his hands close to his ears in case he didn't stop talking.

Daniel brought one hand to his mouth and the other to his chest, startled by that sudden outburst from him.

"Ezzy..." he murmured, "what's wrong?"

Ezra clenched his hands into fists, closing his eyes. The feeling in the pit of his stomach was intensifying more and more, "Stop calling me that, please." then he stared into his eyes, leaning forward, "I asked you to stop two hours ago. Two hours."

Daniel stared at him open-mouthed, some chewed food was visible and Ezra was forced to turn away, trying to erase the image from his mind, but he heard it anyway when he asked, "Did I do something wrong?"

Ezra huffed out a laugh and the group of older boys, who had been watching them since they entered the fast food restaurant, stared at him with somber expressions, then shifted their gazes to Daniel. He brought his attention back to Daniel in turn and said in a low voice so that no one would hear him, "I'm sorry to have to tell you like this, but there won't be a second date and this one ends here."

He didn't even wait to see Daniel's reaction, grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. He shivered in the cold of the city and looked around, lost. He had no idea where he was. He didn't know what part of town that fast food was in, and he couldn't understand how Nia knew the place existed. He walked down the main street, hoping to find something - a store, a bus stop, anything - that would help him figure out where he was.

He had just finished slipping on his jacket when he felt a hand tighten around his wrist and pull hard enough to make him stumble backwards. He didn't even realize he was falling until his back hit the ground and the air rushed out of his lungs so violently that it shocked him. He closed his eyes for a second, trying to catch his breath. Panic didn't have time to make its way through his body that someone was pulling him up by force.

Ezra kicked his feet in the air, looking around, unsure whether to scream for help and trying hard to free himself from the stranger's grasp, when he realized with horror that it was Daniel.

The all too cheerful and bright eyes that had characterized that basic little face until that moment, that had frightened but more than anything else bored Ezra to the point of exhaustion, now shone with a new emotion and he was petrified to realize that he looked like another person entirely. It was anger, pure rage in the boy's pupils.

"Daniel-" he tried to say to get him to let go.

Daniel was still clutching the front of his shirt and shook his head when he said his name, "I don't get it, what is it?" he asked, tilting his head to the side smiling, "You don't like to talk about me being gay because you haven't figured out what you are yet?"

What was wrong with this guy?

Ezra's eyes were wide and he couldn't speak. He was afraid Daniel would hit him.

After all, he didn't know him. He didn't know anything about the person in front of him other than the fact that the only trait in his personality was being gay. He hadn't been able to get anything personal out of him, nothing about what school he attended, nothing about his family, his hobbies.

A sheer, unmitigated terror made its way through his mind as he realized that Daniel could easily have been even much older than he said he was.

"Let me go." murmured Ezra, clasping his hands around his wrists. The only certainty he had at that moment was the fact that Daniel wouldn't be able to pull out any kind of sharp object to hurt him as long as he had his hands on Ezra.

Daniel wasn't that much bigger than him, he was a few inches shorter, but Ezra wasn't the kind of guy who would get into fights and win. No, he wasn't like his brother. He was more the type who got pushed into the fight and ended up with a broken nose because he didn't want to hurt the other guy.

The door to the fast food restaurant opened behind him and he tried hard to block out the shaking of his hands, of his lower lip. He couldn't take his eyes off Daniel's, too scared that if he even moved a finger, the other would snap.

"Everything okay out here?" someone asked, a deep, gravelly voice.

Daniel's eyes snapped over his shoulder and loosened their grip on his shirt. Ezra took the opportunity to push him away. Cursing, he fell backwards again, cushioning his fall with his hands and felt a sharp pain go up his arm. Hissing, he brought the limb to his chest, clutching it with his other hand.

Arms slipped under his shoulders, helping him pull himself up, "Here."

As soon as he was on his feet, Ezra took three steps back, moving away from both men in front of him.

He realized with no small amount of dread that the newcomer was one of the boys who had been watching them all evening. He cursed mentally this time, trying to think his way out of the fucked up situation.

How had he ended up there?

How had he ended up in the ugliest neighborhood in all of Velaris just because he wanted to go on a date?

Daniel was looking at the man now, much bigger and bulkier than the two of them combined, and Ezra heard a bicycle bell ring in the distance.

The heads of all three snapped toward the sound, but the only one who started running toward the two approaching figures was Ezra. He heard Daniel yell his name, but that only prompted him to run faster.

Nia was flailing around, swinging dangerously on her bike, and she didn't seem to notice the condition he was in, because she was smiling like a little girl on Christmas morning, but Dara was.

"Nia, come here." Ezra heard him say even at that distance. The girl must have heard something in her boyfriend's tone too, because she bolted beside him and got off her bike silently. Ezra continued to run at breakneck speed until he was in front of his best friends and got on the bike Nia had just left behind. He ordered them both to take off with short breaths and Dara to pedal as fast as he could before darting off down the road.

The boy in question waited until Nia was safely settled on the rack before turning the bike around and following Ezra down the half-lit street.

What the hell had just happened?

***

"I think we should call aunt Nesta," Nia said, with a grave expression.

Dara shook his head, reaching behind her and resting an arm on the back of the bench, starting to play with a strand of her hair, "She'll riot if she finds out what happened."

Nia looked at him frowning, "So you think we should handle it?"

Dara nodded, reducing his lips to a thin line.

"The us-handling-it ended with Ezra almost getting himself killed," she pointed out to him, "I think we've done enough for tonight."

"Speaking of," Ezra murmured. He sat with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, his eyes closed, convinced that if he opened them he'd start crying. "Where the fuck did you find someone like that?"

A shiver ran through his body and he didn't know if it was because of the memory of Daniel or because they insisted on spending their Saturday nights in the cold backyard of Dara's house.

Nia scratched the back of her neck, "A friend told me she had a friend who was busting her balls because he's been single for too long and he reminded me of someone." she gave him a pointed look and shrugged, "I didn't think he'd be a psycho."

Dara chuckled tiredly and Ezra lifted his head to look at him, "Why are you laughing, that was terrifying." he repeated for the billionth time. "I don't think I'll ever date again."

"Actually as a first date it kinda sucked," mumbled the girl yawning. Erza knew they were both dead tired and it wouldn't make any difference if he stayed over at his aunt Mor's or went back to his house, either way he would find himself alone in a bed. He might as well avoid a sleepless night because of Nia's snoring.

Truth be told, he would have preferred to be cuddled by his sisters, but he would never admit that out loud.

He opened and closed the fingers of his left hand, wincing every time the cut on his wrist joint moved.

Nia was watching him closely, "You should probably disinfect that."

Ezra huffed, closing his eyes and scratching his eyebrow, "I'll do it when I get home."

"Do you want me to call your mother?" she offered, understanding immediately. Dara nodded beside her.

He thought about it and then shook his head, getting up and picking up the phone, "If you call her she'll think I'm dead or something bad happened - which is true," he nodded, dialing Nesta's number, and bringing the device to his ear, "but she doesn't need to know over the phone."

She answered on the first third ring.

"Ezra? What's wrong?" she asked with bated breath.

The boy grimaced, immediately realizing he had interrupted something, and Dara burst out laughing. By now it was common knowledge what his parents did every Saturday night. Even Dara's moms had their Wednesdays after all.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you," he narrowed his eyes, wrinkling his nose, "but, is there any way you could pick me up?"

Nesta didn't answer right away, but Ezra clearly heard the shifting of the sheets and the uncertain movements on the other side of the line and his father asked worriedly, "What happened?"

"I don't know-" Nesta answered him in a muffled voice, then more clearly, "Ezra everything alright? Are you okay?" anxiety lacing her words.

Fuck, this was exactly what he wanted to avoid. Making his parents worry about things that could easily be avoided was perhaps the thing he hated most in the world.

Casting a quick glance at his friends, he replied, "You know what, nothing, nevermind, I'll stay here and be back in the morning, don't worry about it." he tried to fake a smile, even though his mother couldn't see it and Dara scoffed, standing up and nearly knocking over Nia who was leaning on his shoulder, "Pass it to me." he murmured.

Ezra pulled away, reaching an arm out to his friend to hold him back as Dara smiled and reached for his phone.

"Where are you now?" asked Nesta urgently. More frantic movement on the other end of the phone, "I've got you on speaker."

Ezra grunted when Dara jabbed a finger into his ribs, "At aunt Mor's." he let out a giggle when he escaped his friend and started running around the garden, "But don't worry, I'm here with Dara and Nia, I'll be back tomorrow."

"Love, you never called me to pick you up in sixteen years of living," the woman pointed out to him. She heard her father agree with her as he warned her that he would wait for her in the car, "Even if nothing happened, something has to have and I don't want to put unnecessary burdens on Mor or Em. We're on our way." Ezra was about to retort when the beep beep of the call being closed rumbled through the phone.

The boy huffed, stopping his run abruptly, and Dara slammed into him, nearly knocking them both over. They burst out laughing as they pushed and pulled in a non-violent fight.

As they fell on top of each other, starting to tickle each other, Nia snickered from the porch, leaning against the railing, "How nice it is to have a boyfriend who has a boyfriend."

"You love us." both boys shouted, opening their eyes and mouths wide and looking at each other immediately after, "Aah, twins." they said again simultaneously. They burst out laughing and Nia ran a hand over her face, warning them that she was going into the house.

Dara stood up at that point, pushing Ezra away, but he helped him up anyway and they silently joined her, trying not to wake Mor and Emerie who were resting on the couch undisturbed. His friend asked him to warn his mother not to ring the bell, so that she wouldn't wake up his moms, and Ezra smiled and nodded.

Dara was the only child of aunts Mor and Em. He was only a few months younger than Ezra, but had been adopted when he was already two years old. Of course, none of the three could remember a day without the other two, and although Dara and Nia had been together for a few months now - after years and years of banter - the dynamics of the group had never changed.

Although Nia had become a little more possessive now where Dara was concerned, it was never really about jealousy. Ezra was just scared when she took on that stern expression that also characterized her mother Amren and threatened him with death when he accidentally hurt Dara during one of their friendly fights.

They entered the bedroom and Nia was already sprawled out on the mattress like a starfish. A soft snoring sounded in the room and Ezra shook his head, "How is she already asleep?"

Dara didn't answer him, but smiled slightly, looking at the shapeless mass of hair that hid the girl's face. He walked over to the bed, grabbing a blanket from the chair and trying to cover her entirely, but from the position she was in, an arm or leg would always be exposed to the chill air.

Ezra felt his heart tighten in his chest, "You're lucky." he whispered.

Dara snorted, looking up at him with a curled brow, "Don't go soft on me, you know we'll both start crying then." then he turned back to Nia, moving her hair out of her face, "It's also after eleven, if we start talking about this stuff I could seriously cry." an even wider smile made its way onto his lips and a twin one appeared on Ezra's. Plus, if Nia woke up with both of them crying, she wasn't going to let them live it down.

Dara and Nia had come before Cal and Nora, before Nate, Theo, and everyone else. Ezra didn't know what it would be like without them, and he never wanted to find out.

"You know, though, yeah," Dara whispered once they had settled into the bean bag chairs, "we're lucky."

Ezra looked into his eyes, yawning, "Do you think my mom will let me go to sleep without an interrogation?"

Dara grinned, "Are we talking about the same Nesta who kept us up an entire night just because she kept losing at UNO?" he reminded him of that deadly night a few years earlier, "Because I'm sure that a person who is willing to keep three whining babies awake just to win at a stupid game isn't going to let something that relevant go until they get their revenge."

Ezra groaned, closing his eyes, "I don't even know how to approach the subject."

"What part?" Dara then asked, watching him closely, "That you also like boys or that one guy almost smashed your face."

"Not helping." he deadpanned.

"No, but seriously," he pulled his legs up, crossing them underneath him, "I know your whole-" he moved a hand in midair, pointing to Ezra's head, "thinking and I don't want to make you more anxious than you need to be, but what if they don't react like you always thought they would?"

Ezra had thought about this countless times, about how his parents might react to such an admission, but the outcome had never bothered him much. He didn't really conceive the concept of coming out when you were growing up in a family like his. He didn't like the idea of having to specify to his parents that one day he might bring home someone who wasn't a woman.

One of his father's closest friends was a lesbian and her son was sitting across from him. If his parents had any objections to that, they would certainly have told him or talked about it.

He was sure it wouldn't have sparked any reaction in his parents.

"It'll be fine." said Ezra only.

"Definitely." Dara dropped his head back, "So how do you plan to introduce the I-went-out-with-a-crazy-man instead?"

Ezra shook his head, "I don't?"

"I'm serious." the other replied, closing his eyes.

"So am I."

They remained silent, Dara surely having realized Ezra didn't want to talk about Daniel anymore.

"What are you planning on doing for Valentine's Day?" he asked suddenly.

Dara chuckled, "I have a girlfriend now man, we can't go out anymore, you and I."

"You dumbass," Ezra insulted him, "I meant with Nia. Where are you taking her?"

Dara pulled himself up, stretching his arms overhead. The boy couldn't sit still for half a minute. "Actually I think she wants to take me somewhere and I'll let her," he nodded thoughtfully, "Although I'm kind of terrified she's going to take me into the woods and kill me, I'm going to activate the location on my phone so you'll always know where I am."

Ezra didn't laugh, he just nodded. The phone vibrated in his hand and his stomach twisted again.

"We're out." the message from his mother read.

He looked up at Dara and found his friend watching him, who gave him an encouraging smile.

They bid each other goonight with their secret handshake and then Ezra walked out of the room just as Dara lifted Nia and tucked her under the covers, laying down next to her.

***

"Are you going to tell us what's going on or are we going to have to guess?" asked Cassian looking over his shoulder once he was in the car.

They were already halfway home and Ezra had only said hello to them, in a very controlled tone of voice, but his mother had tossed back in her seat and stared into his eyes for what had seemed like hours before shifting her gaze to her husband and saying, "Yeah, something happened."

She had watched him for so long that he couldn't understand how she hadn't seen the bloodstain on his sweatshirt. He pulled up the zipper on his jacket, already thinking about how he could remove the stain from the fabric.

"Can we talk about this tomorrow?" he tried to ask. He was looking out the window, but he could feel both his parents' eyes on him.

"Can you sleep if you don't talk about it, or are you going to be up all night?" asked Cassian again, "Because if it's the latter, I'd rather talk about it now."

Ezra closed his eyes, thinking about what to answer. "Is Andra home?" he asked softly.

Nesta nodded, "She's been asleep for a couple of hours though. She's been playing all day with Fabien and Chelo and was dead tired." she said in a chipper tone, "How come?"

"I'm taking her to my room." he replied only.

His mother turned to him again, this time with a lopsided smile on her face, "It's not like she's a dog."

"Yeah, I know," he smiled back, "but at least I'll sleep better."

"Alright, we'll talk about it tomorrow though," Nesta told him. He merely nodded.

Not even two minutes passed and Cassian asked, "Did you have a fight with Dara?"

Ezra nearly burst out laughing, "No, Dad."

"With Nia?"

"Cass." his mom admonished him.

The man turned to her with a mock confused expression, "What?"

"He told us he'd talk about it tomorrow, stop it."

Cassian huffed, "Fine."

As soon as they arrived home, Ezra said goodnight to both of them and went straight to his room. He slipped off his jacket and got into his pajama pants, grabbing his shirt and heading to the bathroom to try and clean his sweatshirt as best he could.

He remained shirtless as he searched the drawers for cotton wool and wound sanitizer. He gritted his teeth and clenched his hands into fists as he spilled some of the liquid on his cut. It wasn't too long or deep, but it had bled him quite a bit, especially considering he hadn't stopped moving his hand half a second, preventing the skin from healing.

He'd definitely done it to himself when he got free of Daniel, but he hadn't realized he'd hurt himself that badly until he'd gotten to Dara's house and Nia had seen the red stain on his sweatshirt. He cleaned the cut from the dried blood, changing cotton balls after the first one had turned completely red.

He turned on the water, running his entire forearm under it, when the bathroom door opened and his mother's head popped into view. At any other time he would have told her that she had to knock before entering their bathroom, that he might be naked, but upon seeing the color drain from her face, he remained silent.

He turned off the faucet, cupping his hand over his wrist as Nesta entered the bathroom and stared in pure terror at the cotton wool and blood on the sink. He hadn't seen his mother so scared since the day he'd broken his arm.

"Mom..." whispered Ezra, stepping forward, toward her.

"What happened?" she asked bringing a hand to her throat. Then she looked into his eyes, "Did you do it yourself?"

Ezra frowned, confused. Then the shock of what his mother's newly spoken words implied hit him and he shook his head, wincing. "No, god- no mom. I-"

Nesta moved until she was in front of him and gently took his arm, moving his hand from his wrist until she saw the cut and sighed. Whether in relief or otherwise, Ezra didn't know.

"You need to tell me what's going on, and no, you can't go to bed without telling me what you did tonight first," she murmured to him, without looking at his face. She had taken another piece of cotton and was dabbing at his wrist with the gentleness that only a mother with her children could have, checking for soil residue or anything else.

"Nesta?"

Ezra winced when he heard his father's voice calling to her.

Mom looked him in the eye, tossing the wadded up bits, "If you promise me that as soon as you get out of here you'll come talk to us, I'll go out now and let you get ready for the night in peace." she told him.

She was looking at him with so much emotion that Ezra regretted even thinking about lying to her and telling her he just fell off his bike. Besides, if it had been about something so stupid, he would have told her right away and she knew it. So, lowering his gaze to the floor, he nodded, "I promise."

Stepping out, she picked up the clothes Ezra had left on the floor and then he was alone again. He brushed his teeth, thinking about how to deal with this. He grabbed a band-aid from Celia's locker - she used more than anyone else put together because of soccer - and then slipped on his pajama shirt, leaving the bathroom and heading for his parents' room. Halfway down the hallway he turned around and stopped with his hand on the doorknob of his room. He closed his eyes, smacking his forehead against the wood, "Let's do this."

He didn't have time to knock that his parents' door opened and Cassian looked at him differently than he always did, looked at him like he was trying to read his mind. Ezra felt himself blush for the first time in a long time and shifted his gaze to his mother, who was sitting on the edge of the bed and smiling at him.

Ezra slipped into the room, sitting down at the end of the bed. Nesta settled against the bedpost and Cassian sat down, facing the wall. He couldn't see his father's face, but he sensed his concern as waves radiated from his body.

"I had a date tonight." mumbled Ezra playing with the blanket, but keeping his eyes on his mother.

Nesta opened her mouth slightly wide in surprise, then closed it again, composing herself, "Why didn't you tell us?"

"I don't know," he confessed.

"How did it go?" asked Cassian, turning to face him.

Ezra scratched his head, "Bad."

"I'm sorry." his mother told him with as much sincerity in her voice as she could muster. Then she cast a quick glance at his dad and Ezra took a deep breath, bracing himself for what was to come. "How did it get so bad?"

"The other one wasn't exactly sane," he said, brushing the patch with his fingers.

Cassian stiffened and flexed his fingers several times, "Did she do anything to you?"

Ezra felt his heart start to beat a little faster, "He was-" then he stopped, looking at his parents. Neither Nesta nor Cassian seemed the least bit touched by what he'd just said. "He was peculiar."

They waited for him to speak, giving him time to process.

"He immediately started touching me and normally-"

His father interrupted him, "Touching you?" he asked in a low voice.

Ezra had never heard that tone of voice before. He had never seen Cassian's eyes grow so dark, his jaw so taut. Everything in the man's body screamed anger. His mother had pulled herself up straighter and extended a hand toward her husband, as if she needed physical support to deal with such a conversation.

He was quick to specify, "Hugs, he was always trying to find a way to touch my hands, my face, and normally it wouldn't bother me, but it was the first time I'd seen him and god, I don't even know his fucking last name." he didn't bother not to say the bad word. He knew his mother didn't care right then and he needed to vent. Cassian nodded and while Nesta seemed to have relaxed a bit, his father hadn't lost that feeling of hatred that was rippling across his face.

"He talked the whole time about things purely related to the fact that he was gay and he went into detail." he said with wide eyes, "And he demanded that we look at each other while he talked and that made me uncomfortable in no small part and the place he took me to." he shuddered, "It looked like something out of one of those TV shows that Celia always watches about houses full of trash."

Nesta crossed her arms over her chest, with a worried gaze, "Why didn't you call me? I would have come right away."

Ezra looked at her, shaking his head, "I thought about it, but I had arranged with Nia and Dara that they would pick me up with their bikes and I texted Nia and-"

He paused to catch his breath.

"As soon as he said the word orgasm I got up and told him I didn't want to see him anymore and left."

Cassian nodded, "You did the right thing." he told him resting a hand on his ankle, "With these people you never know what can happen-"

Nesta interrupted him, "How did you get the cut?"

His dad frowned and turned to her, but Nesta was just watching Ezra as she bit her lip, growing more and more agitated.

He closed his eyes, sighing, "I fell."

"Yeah, but how?"

He remained silent, trying to find a way to tell the story from the beginning without his parents losing years of their lives before he could finish telling.

"Ezra." his father murmured, tightening his grip on his ankle.

He took a deep breath and tried to say it all at once before they could interrupt him, fixing his eyes on the seams of his pajamas, "He followed me outside and grabbed my arm, but I fell backwards. He grabbed me by my jacket and when I managed to get free again I must have fallen on a rock or something sharp because I hurt my hand." his voice was shaking at the end of the sentence and he hadn't realized how striking it had actually been for him. "Some guy came out of the fast food restaurant and distracted Daniel and I ran. I found Nia and Dara on their bikes and we rode home." then he wrinkled his brow, "I've already blocked his number and his every social account." he added under his breath. When he looked up at his parents, he felt tremendous guilt. Nesta had a hand over her mouth and her eyes slightly glazed over. He could see all kinds of emotions battling there: anger, apprehension, panic, worry. He could see how much it was costing her not to leave that house and go find Daniel on her own.

Cassian had sprung to his feet and was now pacing back and forth between the closet and the bathroom, hands crossed behind his head as he took deep breaths.

Ezra didn't know what to do. They had broached the subject of relationships many times before, there was no reason why they should have to explain to him why everything that had happened was wrong and that it wasn't normal, that it wasn't his fault. He knew.

"Are you okay?" his mom asked him.

He nodded, "I didn't want to tell you tonight because we're all tired, tomorrow morning would have been better." then he shifted his gaze to his dad, "I'm sorry, dad."

Cassian froze, letting go of a trembling breath as he shook his head. He sat down next to his son, wrapping his arms around him and holding him to his chest. Ezra melted into the embrace, wrapping his arms around him in turn.

"You don't have to apologize for anything," he murmured to him. He pulled away just enough to look into his eyes. Then he shook his head again, "I'm sorry you didn't tell us about the date and I'd appreciate it if in the future you would."

"Yeah," Nesta indulged him, moving around on the mattress until she was next to them and could place a hand on his face, "we don't care who you go out with, but at least know where you're going so that if something happens we know where to come get you."

Ezra nodded.

Then Nesta opened her arms and he released herself from his father's grasp to find comfort in his mom's.

"I'm sorry, love." she whispered to him.

Ezra shrugged, saying in a muffled voice, "Don't worry, I'm fine."

And he was indeed fine.

He felt his father's hand caressing his back and they stayed there for a while longer, while Nesta and Cassian exchanged a look full of emotions and worries, but also of relief because the evening could have ended in a completely different way.

It wasn't until the next day that they would ask him if he wanted to press charges and how it would all play out should he decide to continue, only after they had talked about it a whole night between the two of them.

In the meantime, Ezra would come out of their room after saying goodnight to them for the second time and crawl into Andra's bed, where the little sister would immediately attach herself like an octopus to his neck and where they would fall asleep peacefully hugging.

acotar tag list

@sjm-things @kris10maas @awesomelena555 @sannelovesreading @queenamydien29 @ireallyshouldsleeprn @messyhairday-me @ncssian @observationanxioustheorist @my-fan-side @booksstorm @maastrash @thedarkdemigod @courtofjurdan @thewayshedreamed @ladywitchling @nahthanks @archeron-queen @sleeping-and-books @bri-loves-sunflowers @thegoddessofyou @ghostlyrose2 @claralady @queenestarcheron @oop-theregoesgravity @perseusannabeth @simping4bookboisngrls @anne-reads @fantastypenguins @laylaameer01 @thalia-2-rose @darkshadowqueensrule

#nessian #TSOU nessian fic #TSOU #the seven of us #nesta archeron #cassian #acosf #acotar next gen #acotar fic #nessian fic #nessian angst #family angst #acomaf #acowar #acofas #a court of silver flames #nessian child #nessian children #nessian baby

81 notes · View notes

jtmarx · 3 years

Text

Finally getting around to putting up my top 5 BL (boys love) series that I’ve watched. I’ll get into the specifics with each entry and if you want to discuss my picks or let me know yours, go for it I guess.

This is largely an opinion piece, obviously, so no point in getting offended by anything. It’s going under a read more because I’m not an asshole

5. Love Sick (Thailand) Obviously, this includes Love Sick 2 as well. They say you never forget your first and that is so true for me and Love Sick. I just really love Phun and Noh and just how wholesome and fun the progression in their relationship was. And this is coming from someone who generally loathes the trope of a mlm relationship starting while one partner is already in a relationship. That part did bug me, but I just love Phun and Noh more. Plus, what I really enjoyed about this series that I have yet to see again is the supporting cast. First off, Jeed’s transition into villainy is perhaps one of the best character arcs I’ve seen. Secondly, the oodles of side characters and side stories just made the whole series feel so organic and natural.

4. HIStory3: MODC (Taiwan) Yeah, I know this is a cop-out. Honestly, if it wasn’t for the last two episodes (19 and 20, which idk if I even watched), MODC probably would have been number 2. Watching Xi Gu slowly start to open up and come out of his shell around Hao Ting and similarly watching Hao Ting slowly start to realize that there are more important things in life than simply being the cool kid was so beautiful to watch. The B couple is something I could have done without. Yeah, they were sweet and all, but that doesn’t change that one was (I’m really hoping) an 18-year-old kid and the other was a grown-ass man (I think he was mid-20′s tops, but still). Honestly, I just kinda pretended they didn’t exist. But yeah, the character development from and between Xi Gu and Hao was just so phenomenal and I really wish they had ended it better. Fun fact, this is the only show in the top 5 I don’t have a song from on Spotify.

3. Gaya Sa Pelikula (Philippines) I really wish this series could have been longer. That’s it, that’s my only complaint. The whole fake dating premise was what caught my attention, but the ensuing friendship was what really did it for me. I love how organically the relationship came about. But what I truly love the most about this series is the end with Vlad telling Karl “Hey, you don’t have to come out if you don’t want to. That’s your right and you deserve it. But I deserve to be out and not have to hide who I am. And they’re both valid.” That was paraphrased obviously, but I was just floored by it and it hurts my soul knowing I’ll never be able to write that as well as the GSP writers did. And also, that fucking ending was so !!!!! Like, on one hand, I love that they found each other, but also was that open-endedness necessary? The answer, of course, is no.

2. Until We Meet Again (Thailand) This show and Dean and Pharm’s relationship was all so pure and sweet. One thing I love about it is that there really wasn’t any actual conflict in Dean and Pharm’s story. I loved how easy it was for them to just be together. Of course, that makes it so tragic when compared to In and Korn, who just wanted to be happy and really never got the chance. I’m not gonna lie, this show made me cry. A lot. Possibly more than Pharm, but it’s hard to say. Also, this show was just a really unique concept I think. I really enjoyed Dean and Pharm being able to get to know each other and being able to say “Hey, maybe we should take a step back and make sure we actually know each other.” And Pharm getting possessed by In towards the end was a really cool twist I think was pretty blatantly foreshadowed throughout the series, but was still really cool to actually see happen. Whenever I read or watch a reincarnation story, I’m going to compare it to UWMA.

1. HIStory3: Trapped (Taiwan) Honestly, this show is so good. Period. It has literally everything you could possibly want with the sole exception of an explicit sex thing. And even then, Tang Yi and Shao Fei do get a lot of pretty nice scenes. There’s honestly not much more for me to say. Literally the only thing bad I can say about this show is that it will never get added on to. Everything else was spot on: the characterization, the romance, the action, the mystery and plot, the supporting cast was all top-notch. I will say one of the reasons I like this show was because of how lowkey the romance is. Like yes, it is a romantic show and Tang Yi and Shao Fei do like each other, but they also have important things they’re trying to get done, so the romance really has a slow-burn kind of feel I think really adds to the story as a whole. I could honestly watch this show a thousand more times and not grow bored with it. It’s just so good.

And now for some honorable mentions: Gameboys (PH)

SOTUS/SOTUS S (TH)

TharnType (TH)

2Gether/Still 2Gether (TH)

I Told Sunset About You (TH)

Where Your Eyes Linger (SK) -

33 notes · View notes

angelinasway · 3 years

Text

Regaining Hope Chapter Seven

Pairing: Clark Kent/Buffy Summers Warnings/Triggers:Torture, Violence, Mention's of Major Character Death, Bad Language, Sexual Tension, Eventual Smut, Mentions of Sexual Assault Summary: Takes place during Man of Steel. When Buffy discovers the U.S Military trying to keep quiet about an object buried in a twenty thousand year old glacier, she immediately thinks the worst. However, when a surprise visit to the Canadian Arctic puts her in the path of a mysterious stranger her whole world is changed forever.

Previous Chapters: [Chapter One] [Chapter Two] [Chapter Three] [Chapter Four] [Chapter Five] [Chapter Six]

[TTH] [AO3] [FFN]

Authors Notes: Thank you all for your amazing and wonderful reviews. I do need to address something though, when it comes to reviews, I honestly don't mind anyone critiquing me when comes to grammar, characterization, or even if its kind of a heavy subject and someone feels like they need to debate me on it. That is absolutely fine, for instance I knew I would get a few blocks and even someone asking about the religious views of this story. I do not mind that. I do however mind, if you think I'm a decent writer, but then proceed to belittle the content of my story. I'm going to try to say this as absolutely nicely as I can...If you don't like the content of this story, if the talk of soulmates, soulbounds, or claiming is not for you, if the romance of this story is not for you, kindly back out of this story now and please just don't leave a review. I will say that anyone who's been in the BTVS fandom long enough already knows what a Claim is pretty much a fanon canon, since its been around our fanfiction community since like 2002 at least. Wesley mentioned Angel and Buffy being soulmates in season one of ATS, so that is actually canon. I say this in the nicest way possible, because sometimes I think reviewers who don't write, do not realize how much a review about content can actually screw with our muse and inspiration and I believe there will be at least a handful of people that do write who will agree with me. That being said, this chapter took as long as it did for me to write because of a bad review, so I'm sorry for the long winded exposition everyone. I know this chapter is a bit choppy and if it wasn't for my beautiful Beta Hipkarma, I'm pretty sure it would have been illegible. This chapter deals with some pretty heavy subjects and I added a warning tag just in case. I do not expect anyone to feel the way Buffy does on this subject, and if you feel the need I will gladly talk to you through pm about it. Thank you guys so much again, and please review, unless you know its an above subject and you hate it. Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter Seven

The plane arrived right on time as Clark anxiously awaited Buffy’s arrival outside the terminal. He’d felt this way since he awoke this morning and he didn’t know why. It was almost like that feeling you get when you know you’ve forgotten something.

He’d dreamt of her last night and it was so vivid and real that when he opened his eyes, he expected her to be there. The feeling had washed over him after that, like a sudden cold draft in a stifling room. He’d also been as hard as nails and had to relieve himself twice in the shower. His dream Buffy whispering filthy words into his ear as he imagined pinning her to the shower wall and driving into her hard and fast. It only seemed to make the feeling worse though. There was a pounding, an almost driving force that told him he needed to see her and that coupled with the lust, he couldn’t seem to shake was a dangerous combination that he did not enjoy feeling at all.

It was so strange, yesterday he’d been fine, more than fine really. He’d walked into his house humming and smiling. His mom had noticed his exuberant mood in an instant and raised her eyebrows in surprise, a curious yet knowing quirk in her lips. She had immediately started bombarding him with questions about his evening and Clark had been unable to deny her even a single detail. Well, there were definitely a few things he left out, but he told her everything from meeting Buffy at the school to him having to sing at Lorne’s. This was a first for both of them, Clark making friends and being able to tell his mom all about it. She listened intently, a happy smile on her lips as if this was something she had always wanted for her son. The ability to just be treated normally by people, even if they knew what he was. The more he spoke about how great Buffy was the more his mom’s knowing smile grew. He told her he promised Buffy that he would pick her up at the airport, and his mom had agreed to let him use the truck as long as he promised to take her to work before he left. She had a full shift at the diner tomorrow, so he was pretty sure he could make it back in time to pick her up and take her home.

Later that night, after getting off the phone with Buffy so she could go patrol, Clark had spent the evening on the internet looking up several theories and ideas on the concept of soulmates. All in all, it was pretty simple stuff, a soulmate could be a romantic or platonic relationship with a mirroring of the souls. Where, both their values and ideals deemed them a perfect match. He had even gone to a few sites on the mystical aspects of soulmates that seemed to be pretty legit, and they believed that when it came to soulmates not only were the souls similar, but both souls usually challenge each other to perceive themselves and the world differently. In essence, your soulmate could help you transcend into a higher state of consciousness. All of that seemed to match very much with what he had been feeling since the moment he met her. None of that however, explained how he felt now.

Buffy had been right the other day when she said it wasn’t just the soulmates thing. He was almost positive the out-of-control lust and the uncontrollable desire to be near her had very little to do with the fact that they were soulmates and everything to do with the prophecy. Something wanted them to consummate their relationship, and he was pretty sure that something had a reason. He wondered if he was in danger of meeting the other woman and somehow changing his mind about her. He definitely couldn’t imagine ever doing that though, not when he felt what he felt, not when she had consumed his thoughts so thoroughly since the day they met.

He felt physically ill at the idea of ever having to fight Buffy as an enemy, Lorne’s words about killing her making him nauseous and dizzy. The demon said it most likely wouldn’t happen now, but God, what if it did? What if he wasn’t capable of fighting off this mystery enemy of the future. He shuddered at the thought, his anxiety level spiking in worry. He had to get himself under control.

As the passengers began to exit the terminal Clark looked on, his eyes searching for golden hair and green eyes. When he finally spotted her the tension that had been growing in his limbs immediately eased. It happened so fast he almost felt boneless by the sudden release. Her eyes met his and a similar look of relief washed over her face, but there was something else there. She was scared, which just made the tension begin to build again. Clark frowned in confusion, but didn’t deny her as she ran to him wrapping her arms around his waist tightly as she laid her head on his chest.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

She shook her head and closed her eyes. “There’s something wrong,” She whispered. “I shouldn’t be feeling this–”

“I know,” he whispered. “I feel it too.” Clark shuddered, so it wasn’t only him who was feeling it. “I think it’s time we learn more about this prophecy.”

He felt her nod. “I’ll call Wes once we get to the safe house.”

****<S>**<S>****

The drive there had been mostly quiet. The only real sound was Buffy’s smartphone giving directions to their destination. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from reaching out and entwining their fingers however, and she smiled at him gratefully before closing her eyes and sighing. They finally arrived at what looked to be an unassuming house just outside of town that rested on a few acres of property. Buffy untangled their fingers and reached into her carryon bag that was between them and pulled out a large multicolored crystal.

“Here,” she said quietly. “Hold this.”

Clark, frowned but did as she asked. Watching her as she muttered the word, “Agnoscis.” The stone suddenly warming in his palm as he caught the house in front of him shimmer for a moment out of the corner of his eye.

“Latin?” He guessed.

Buffy nodded. “It means recognize. It’s so you can get through the wards.” She bit her lip, “We can also bring your mom here, in case you ever need to hide her you’ll have a place to take her that’s pretty impenetrable.”

Clark nodded gratefully, his eyes studying the sad expression on her face. He reached out and gently brushing the back of his knuckles down her cheek. Her whole body shivered at the contact, a small gasp escaping her lips.

“Are you…are you okay,” He asked.

She shook her head, “I think it’s affecting me more than you.”

Clark was quiet for a moment, and then he shook his head. “It’s not, I think I’m just a lot better at controlling my impulses.”

Buffy chuckled humorlessly, “Maybe, that’s something you can teach me sometime.” She met his eyes and Clark lost his breath at the want he saw shining there.

God, she was beautiful like that. Her eyes almost swirling with color and heat. His temperature immediately skyrocketed, his pants becoming tight. He wanted to ask her if there was anything he could do, but didn’t dare for fear of what her answer might be. She had already told him she wasn’t ready, and if he was being honest with himself, neither was he.

He swallowed, his heart beating in his chest. “Come on,” he whispered, opening his door and stepping out. “Let’s go make that phone call.”

He walked around her side of the truck as she fumbled with her seatbelt, opening the passenger door for her and holding out his hand. She took it gratefully as she slid out of the passenger’s side, hoisting her bag over her shoulder after her feet hit the pavement. Clark reached in the truck bed and grabbed the only other bag she’d brought with her. He wondered where her weapons bag was, but remembered she’d just went through an airport and realized she probably couldn’t bring them with her.

As if she was reading his mind, she said. “Willow was here last night; I had her ward the training equipment so that we can use it without destroying it.” She looked at him out of the corner of her eye as they walked up the driveway. Her hand fumbling with her keys as they made their way to the door. “I also had her fill the fridge and bring my weapons bag over.”

He didn’t say anything as he watched her slide the key in the lock and open the door. He followed her through a spacious living room that was tastefully decorated, through another door and into a modern kitchen. She slid her bag off, dropping it unceremoniously on the floor. She pulled out her phone next, scrolling through her contacts and hitting send before putting it on speaker. She set the phone on the island between them and walked to the fridge, leaning her back against it as she closed her eyes.

Clark wanted to go over and comfort her, but something in his gut told him that would be a very bad idea. She was putting distance between them for a reason and he completely respected that. Her sudden change however, worried him and he was beginning to think maybe she really was suffering more than him.

"Buffy?" A cultured British male voice answered after the first few rings.

"Yeah, it’s me." She said quietly.

"Is everything alright?" He asked, his tone worried.

"No, not really." She answered. "I think it’s time you told us about this prophecy."

"Buffy, I've already explained–"

“No,” She cut him off. “No Wes, you don’t get to do this. Not now. Something is wrong with me, I feel…” Her face went red, as she looked at Clark, “I feel like I’m on fire, I…” Her eyes moved to her phone and glared, a growl tearing from her throat in frustration. Her teeth clenched as she ground out. “I feel incredibly sexually frustrated, okay? Like a cat in fucking heat.” Her face went scarlet and she avoided looking directly at Clark. “Want to explain?”

There was a sudden choking sound on the other line, as a coughing fit proceeded it. “Good Lord, it’s happening already?”

The outrage in Buffy’s eyes, did something to Clark in that moment and he stepped forward his anger simmering under the surface. “What’s happening?” He demanded.

“Mr. Kent,” Wesley said in surprise, “I didn’t…I didn’t realize you were on the line as well.” Clark heard the British man sigh, “I’m sorry we were finally introduced this way, I had hoped to meet you in person. I’m sure you already know that I am Wesley Wyndam-Pryce and that I am head of the Watchers Council.” There was a pause, before he continued. “I do apologize for not telling you both sooner, but I had hoped we would have a few more days before the bond started to require a need to be fulfilled.”

“Bond…what?” Buffy’s face scrunched up in confusion.

“I don’t really understand it myself,” Wesley admitted. “But it’s written that once the Immortal Slayer and, I believe the correct term is Star God meet, a…I think the term is soulbond will start to form and a compulsion to fulfill it will start to take hold. Now, both Willow and I think we’ve found a way to counteract the compulsion, but I didn’t expect it would start to take hold so quickly. I do apologize Buffy; I had planned to have Willow bring me there tomorrow so I could explain.”

“What’s a soulbond, exactly?” Clark asked, “And how is it any different than being soulmates?”

“I honestly don’t know, there are very few references to what it is exactly. I imagine that much like soulmates there must be a similarity or mirroring of souls if you will, but unlike soulmates there is a need…a compulsion for a confluence between the souls. As far as I can tell, once that happens it would act very similarly to a claim.”

Buffy gasped and looked at Clark, her eyes wide and disbelieving. Clark swallowed, “What’s a claim?”

“It’s a…a type of marriage between demons, vampires in particular.” Buffy shifted uncomfortably and looked down. “It’s barely ever used now because its unbreakable, not even magic can undo it. It’s ancient and powerful and requires total trust and consent between both parties.” She met his eyes then, an apology shining through but Clark didn’t feel like he needed one, in fact he just felt very confused.

“That doesn’t make any sense, not after what Lorne told me.” Clark said with a frown. “If this bond is as powerful as you say then…” It was his turn to look at Buffy apologetically, “Then even if I met this other person first, wouldn’t the bond take hold when I met Buffy regardless?”

“I don’t quite understand what you’re referring to.” Wesley said in confusion.

Clark looked up at Buffy and saw suspicion in her eyes. “Lorne didn’t tell you?”

“Lorne doesn’t give me the details of readings Mr. Kent; he treats all his clients very much like a therapist treats a patient.” Wesley said, adding. “The only thing he told me was that you were the one the prophecy spoke of and that you were on the right path in regards to your destiny. What exactly did he tell you?”

Clark shifted uncomfortably, feeling Buffy’s eyes on him but unable to meet hers. “He said I had two very different futures, that Buffy was my soulmate but I have another as well and in this other future this woman dies and something makes me go bad.” He finally got the courage and looked at Buffy, her eyes were wide and burning with hurt and maybe a bit of jealousy. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, thinking he had ruined everything.

Buffy shook her head and swallowed, “Did he… did he say what would happen if you met her now?”

Clark nodded, "He said I'm a one-woman man, that it wouldn't matter."

She seemed to relax a bit at his words, her eyes softening and darting back to her phone as Wesley began speaking, "Then you are very correct Mr. Kent, if you met Buffy in this other future, it should have activated the soulbond whether you had feelings for this other woman or not. A soulmate is not always a love interest after all." He paused for a moment, "There are only two things that could have stopped it. One would be that you don't meet Buffy until this mystery foe had your mind or if you did meet her, she was already claimed."

Buffy gasped, and looked at Clark guiltily, “I almost asked him to claim me.”

A potent wave of jealousy and possession swept through him at her words. If she was referring to Angel, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to control himself much longer. Not when the very idea of her being tied like that with someone else made his blood boil.

"What?" Wesley said, shocked.

"Spike, Wes. Not Angel." She clarified. "It was...it was right after we found Alicia. I knew it could make us stronger and I... I thought it might give us an advantage against Angelus. I never had the courage to ask him though."

“And thank every deity in the universe for that!” Wesley said sharply, “I don’t think you quite understand the repercussions that could have had on not just Clark’s future but your own.” There was a long silence, the only sound was heavy breathing before a much calmer Wesley finally said, “That kind of bond Buffy…think about what you did to Angelus and multiply it by a million. I was there that day you came through the portal after Spike died. You were almost feral; your Slayer was in complete control and she wanted to kill Willow for making her immortal. There was a part of her that already thought of Spike as her mate, and she wanted blood from whoever had wronged her. If you had been claimed and Spike died…” They heard him take a shuddering breath, “You would have burnt the world and then marched into Hell without a second thought in search of him. There would have been no stopping you.”

Clark watched Buffy shiver at Wes’s words, her eyes getting lost and faraway. His possessiveness grew at her words, but a small part of him couldn’t help but be curious as to what happened between the two of them and why she so rarely spoke about him. The book had only said that the vampire had killed two Slayers, and had tried to kill Buffy on numerous occasions. He had been hampered by some form of neurotechnology by the US Government and began working with her reluctantly. Somewhere along the way he had fallen for Buffy and regained his soul, sacrificing himself for the world once, where he was resurrected by a mystical amulet he was wearing when he died. The author of the book believed he’d been brought back by mistake and the amulet was meant to be worn by Angel, but there was also some speculation that Spike may have been the actual bearer of the Shanshu prophecy. The author however, was highly skeptical about this because Spike didn’t do what he did out of heroics, even with a soul he relished in the violence of his nature. The author believed that becoming mortal would feel more like a punishment than a reward for the vampire. It spoke some about his time at Wolfram and Hart, about his part in the fight against Angelus, and how he died saving Buffy a second time.

“I don’t…I don’t remember any of that.” She said quietly, wrapping her arms around herself. “Even what I did to Angelus, I only remember parts of it. I felt like I was outside my body looking at someone who wasn’t actually me, except I could feel what I was doing.” She shivered, and it took every bit of self-control he had not to go to her, especially when her voice cracked. “When I came to, I-I was covered in blood and…God, Wes there was nothing left but a torso and head. I…” She choked. “I even took his face.”

When a single tear tracked itself down her cheek, Clark couldn’t take it anymore and he rounded the island and pulled her into his arms, hoping she was too upset to be affected by the embrace, but not really caring if she was, not when he could feel her trembling in his arms. He understood now why she’d been so adamant the other day about her being wrong in the way she killed Angelus and about Slayers not actually being creatures of light but warriors for the light. He could never picture her being capable of such carnage even after hearing it from her own mouth. Then again, he could never picture himself killing her either or anyone else for that matter, not on purpose at least.

They heard a muffled sniffle over the line, before a choked sounding Wesley finally said, “Oh, Buffy, I never…I never knew it was that bad. We found the warehouse and the blood, so I did realize…but…not to what extent, and then you just disappeared and Willow couldn’t ever get a read on you. It was like you were blocking her somehow. Why didn’t you ever tell me any of this?”

Clark felt her shake her head, “I was ashamed.” She answered honestly. “Lorne’s the only one who knows everything, even the stuff I can’t remember.”

“Do you remember anything that happened before you captured Angelus?” Wesley asked cautiously. “I’ve always wondered how you did it, but was always too afraid to ask after the way we…the way we found you.”

Buffy sighed against Clark’s chest, her shivering increasing. “I think I let myself be caught,” she said quietly. “The only thing I really remember is being bound magically by Amy and then Warren tearing open my shirt.” Clark stiffened at her words, his whole body going rigid. She squeezed her eyes shut, her grip on him tightening. “Angelus threw him out of the way, and said everyone would have a turn, but he got to have me first.” Clark’s anger flared at her words, his fist tightening behind her back, he had to squeeze his eyes shut at the sudden heat he felt building. “I-I don’t know how, but somehow I was able to break through the magic that was binding me. Everything’s kind of a blur after that, but I think…” She frowned, her forehead crinkling in confusion. “I think none of the spells were working on me. I think…I think I killed everyone.”

Clark found himself sighing in relief at her words. God, just the image of someone trying to do that to her made him see red. Literally, in fact. He really hoped that something like that has never happened before, because he could already tell he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from tearing whomever did it to shreds. As horrendous of a way she killed Angelus, he couldn’t judge her for how she did it, not after hearing that. God, if she hadn’t been able to break the magic… He felt himself shudder.

Wesley was quiet for a long time, “I’ve always known that Willow brought you back stronger, but being able to break a binding spell with sheer force of will is extraordinary Buffy. We should have started testing this advantage years ago.”

“I try not to think about that day, Wes.” She huffed. “I don’t think the magic going wonky even occurred to me until this moment.” She was quiet for a few moments, before she finally said, "So what happens if I bond with Clark and I lose him too?"

Wesley sighed, "Well, I'm hoping since it’s your souls that are bonding and not your Slayer, that it will make quite a difference."

"You're hoping? That’s really not a guarantee, Wes." She said in annoyance, stepping out of Clark's embrace and leaning on the island. "And what’s to stop my Slayer from trying to initiate a claim? What if this soulbond thing isn't good enough for her? Lorne already said she's been looking for her mate since I was called. He said that's why I was so drawn to both Spike and Angel." She shook her head, "Well, according to this prophecy he's my mate, right? Or the closest she'll ever get to one. So, what's to stop her from doing what she's been wanting to do for years? I mean I looked up claiming in high school, Wes. As soon as I read the word, I was fascinated."

Clark stepped around the table so he could look at her. She seemed worried and deep in thought before her eyes met his and they softened immediately, a small smile forming on her lips as she studied him.

Then they heard Wesley sigh, "I honestly don't know. We've still not even translated the whole thing and we've been working on it for over a year."

Clark watched Buffy frown in confusion. "Is there a reason you haven't gotten Dawn in on this?"

"I'll give you three guesses as to why." He said sarcastically.

Buffy snorted, saying mockingly, "Aww Wes, you're not afraid of my baby sister, are you?"

There was silence on the other end of the line and then a grumbled, "I would rather face all the demons in hell than deal with Dawn on a tirade about you."

She chuckled and shook her head. "Well tough, because I want her in on this."

"But Buffy–” He started to whine.

“No Wes,” she said cutting him off. “I love both you and Willow, you know that. But, if there’s anyone in this world who will have our best interests at heart and give it to us straight, it’s her. I want her in on this.”

“Fine,” He groaned.

Then a smile broke across her lips and an evil look of mischief Clark was slowly becoming familiar with sparked in her eyes. “Plus, she already knows I spent time with Clark the other day and she knows he’s something other.”

“How on Earth did she find out about that?” Wesley said in surprise.

Clark smirked as Buffy’s smile grew. “I may have pissed Faith off by waking her and Gunn up with a cold shower. She ratted us out.”

There was silence on the other line, but she swore she could hear him shaking his head. “Do I even want to know?”

“Probably not.” She said chuckling and then sighed. “I’m feeling a little better now, I mean as far as the compulsion stuff goes.”

“Hmm,” Wesley hummed. “Perhaps it gets worse when you’re apart. I knew that you would feel a need to be around each other, but perhaps being away from one another has an even greater affect than I imagined. How about you Mr. Kent, how do you feel?”

Clark blinked in surprise. Now that Buffy mentioned it, he was feeling less uncomfortable than he had all morning. “Better, actually. It’s still there, but not as potent.”

“Then perhaps the theory is a sound one,” Wesley said. “However, to be on the safe side I’ll have Willow drop off the pendants she’s making this evening. They should be able to subdue most of the compulsion until you both feel ready to move forward with the bond. I would also recommend spending as little time apart as possible. I believe that the pendants are powerful enough to ward off the worst of it, however if this bond is as powerful as I think it is you very well might override the magics if the compulsion becomes too powerful.” He sighed, “I suggest staying there with Buffy for the time being Mr. Kent.”

Clark shook his head “That not going to work Mr. Wyndam-Pryce. I need to help out on the farm. While I was away my mom got behind on the payments and if we don’t bring in a decent crop this year my mom could lose it.” He looked at Buffy nervously. “You could stay with us though; we have a guest bedroom.”

Buffy nodded, “Yeah, yeah, that might be a good idea. I can help you with anything you need, and we can start your training in the afternoons.”

Wesley cleared his throat, getting both their attention. “I think you’re forgetting the contract, Buffy. He may very well not need to worry about that any longer.”

Buffy’s eyes widened, “Oh, yeah. I almost forgot. I’ll be right back.”

Clark watched her run out of the room as Wesley said, “Are you still there Mr. Kent?”

Clark looked at the phone, “Yes.”

“Good, I thought I’d go over the numbers for you and see if they’re satisfactory.” Wesley said. “I had thought of paying you as we would a hired mercenary or demon hunter, however since your role in the future will be pivotal to keeping this world intact, I decided you deserved what we would pay any Slayer, it’s only fair after all.”

“What aren’t you telling us about this prophecy?” Clark said, Wesley’s words telling him the man knew more than was saying.

He heard the man sigh, “I would prefer not to say at this moment. I already know how Buffy will feel about it, and I believe you both have enough on your plate with the bonding. I’ll tell you both, but she’s not ready to hear it yet.”

Clark frowned, “I don’t think you give her enough credit.”

“You may be correct,” Wesley conceded, “But I know she will not be happy about this, even if it’s a good thing. I, at the very least need to prepare myself for Dawn finding out, and she may very well tell Buffy even if I ask her not too. I do not believe either of you have long to wait.”

“Alright,” Clark said, “I’m going to hold you to that though.”

“Now,” Wesley said, just as Buffy walked back in the room. “How does two hundred-thousand a year sound?

Clark blinked in surprise, the blood rushing to his head. He couldn’t have possibly heard that right, could he? “I’m sorry did you…did you just say two hundred-thousand?”

“Clark are you okay?” Buffy asked, running to his side. “You look a little pale.”

He shook his head, “It’s…that’s too much.”

“No,” Buffy disagreed, shaking her head. “It really isn’t. Entering this world Clark… you’ll be putting not only your home but your mom at risk and no amount of money will ever make up for that.” She bit her lip and nodded, “Trust me on this, most demons aren’t stupid enough to mess with the good guy’s families, but the real big-bads, the uber-powerful demons, who’s only goal is destruction and world domination? Those demons won’t care, they’ll do everything in their power to try and hurt you, even if that means trying to break you.” She sighed, “It’s why I want your mom to have access to this place too. It will make me feel better knowing you can get her to safety if you needed to.”

Clark sighed, reaching out and sliding the small stack of paper out of her hand. “And what happens if I sign these and change my mind?”

Wesley spoke up, “You are not beholden to anything Mr. Kent, if you sign those and decide that helping the Watchers Council is not in your best interest, it would simply be like you quitting a job. You wouldn’t be paid anymore of course, but you would not be obligated to continue helping us either. However, with the bond beginning to form I’m not sure how you would be able to distance yourself from the Council or Buffy, but if you made that decision no one would stand in your way.”

Clark pulled out a chair and sat down, his eyes quickly reading it through. It was pretty standard stuff, nothing in it that had some sort of hidden agenda. He flipped the page and read through the rest before getting to the signature line.

“Do you have a pen?” He asked, looking at Buffy.

She went to a small drawer and pulled it open, grabbing one from inside and handing it over. Clark took the pen signing his name on the dotted line. “Okay Mr. Wyndam-Pryce, I signed it.”

“Very good.” Wesley said, “Now, I don’t suppose you’re up for giving him a tour of the underground facilities?”

“Of course.” Buffy said.

“Very well,” he said. “I’ll call you before Willow leaves, in the meantime try and keep your wits about you.”

The line disconnected and Clark raised his eyebrows in curiosity. “Underground facility?”

****<S>**<S>****

Buffy slid open the hidden panel in the wall of the master bedroom. She entered a number into the keypad and then looked up into a camera where it scanned her face, and slid her keycard into the slot.

The computer’s AI came online and a female voice said, "Good afternoon Miss Summers, what can I do for you this afternoon?"

"I need to give a new recruit security clearance."

"Name?" The computer asked, as Buffy removed her keycard and slid in the blank one Willow had left for them.

Buffy nodded at Clark and stepped away from the panel so he could stand in front of it.

"Clark Joseph Kent," he answered, stepping into the space Buffy had just vacated.

"Facial recognition." The computer said, and Buffy pointed up to the camera, indicating he needed to look into it.

Once that was done the computer said, "Four-digit pin."

Buffy looked at Clark and nodded, "Now choose four numbers you'll remember easily."

She watched as he thought about it a second before he put in his code. Once that was finished the computer said, "Thank you Mr. Kent, you now have full access to the Watcher Archives as well as all facilities. Ms. Summers would you like access into the rest of the building?"

"Yes," Buffy answered before the hidden wall shifted, sliding away and revealing the steel doors of an elevator that would take them down into the heart of the house. The doors slid open and Buffy removed the new keycard handing it to Clark as they stepped into the elevator, Buffy pressing the simple down-arrow button.

“We had these built in all the safehouses after what happened with Angelus.” Buffy said as way of explanation. “Or I should say, Wes and Willow did. I wasn’t really around for that.”

It didn’t take long for the elevator to reach its destination and the doors slid open. She could feel Clark’s eyes on her as she stepped out of the elevator and into the large steel control room. There were several monitors on the walls with keyboards on a stainless steel counter top that bolted into the walls along half the room.

“This is the control room.” Buffy said, “For safety reasons, if we’re ever in any code-red type situation, this room is always occupied in case someone manages to get past the outer wards. We can house up to thirty bodies here at a time and since most of us are a little something-other, we can at least hold off whoever’s broken in to give the rest of us a fighting chance to escape by sounding the alarm.”

She knew she was rambling, but she couldn’t look at him right then. It was just occurring to her all that she admitted to Wesley and what she’d said in front of Clark. He was going to ask about Spike, she could almost feel it. Of all the things Wesley could have brought up, it had to be claiming. She felt Clark move closer, and wasn’t surprised when she felt him place his hand on her shoulder as she rambled on about where the exits were located.

“Buffy?” He whispered.

She sighed and looked down, “Yeah?”

“Why…why don’t you ever talk about him?” Clark asked.

Her shoulders slumped at his words, but she still couldn’t bring herself to turn around and look at him. “It’s…it’s complicated.”

“Well then, I think you should try to uncomplicate it for me, because this thing sounds pretty permanent between us and I need to know if I’m going to be living in another man’s shadow.” He said honestly.

She spun around, her eyes meeting his in surprise. “God, no. It’s not like that at all. We were…” She sighed. “Maybe we should go into another room that’s more comfortable. This is a long story.”

Clark nodded at her and she turned, leading him through the heavy metal door to their left and down a hallway the AI illuminating the rooms as it monitored their approach. Buffy led him into a large rec room, a massive tv mounted to one wall with a standard sized couch in front. There was a card table in a corner and a pool table in another. A few pinball machines lined one wall of the room and a dartboard hung near a foosball table. She led him over to the couch, gesturing for him to sit before she wrapped her arms around herself protectively. She waited for him to sit down first, and sat at the other end biting her lip in thought, staring straight ahead into the black void of the blank tv screen, not sure exactly where to start. She figured the beginning was probably best, so she started there.

“When I met Spike,” she said slowly. “He was just about as evil as they come, or at least that’s what my sixteen-year-old-self thought. Though, I hadn’t had the pleasure of meeting Angelus yet, so I was a bit naive in that department. Anyway, his girlfriend-slash-sire had been weakened in Prague at some point and he came to Sunnydale to try and restore her and bag himself another Slayer.” She shrugged, “So, we pretty much started out as mortal enemies. We fought each other a lot that first half of the year, and he was a hell of a fighter. He almost got me on that first one, but incredibly enough my mom was the one who saved the day.” Buffy smiled in amusement. “Clocked him on the back of the head with an axe.”

Clark snorted in amusement. “Sounds like something my mom would do.”

Buffy smiled, “Yeah my mom could be pretty tough.” She shrugged, “Anyway, I ended up putting him in a wheelchair after dropping an organ on him during a spell that actually did end up restoring Drucilla. On my birthday I found out they were both still alive and Dru was reassembling an ancient demon called the Judge who couldn’t be killed by any man-made weapon. Me and Angel tried to stop it from happening, but we were both too late. That night I made the colossal decision of losing my virginity to Angel.” She looked at him out of the corner of her eye and sighed, “And just like that his soul was gone. Maybe that’s why I clung on to the notion that we were somehow destined for so long. I mean, the breaking of Angel’s curse literally states that only a moment of perfect happiness could release the soul. I guess I thought that if our love was enough to drive his soul away, it must be special.” She rolled her eyes at herself. “Honestly, knowing Angel it had more to do with him somehow feeling redeemed in me or it very well could have been that he hadn’t dipped his wick in over a hundred years. Whatever the cause, so began several horrible months of mental torment from a demon wearing my lover’s face.”

“And Spike?” Clark asked.

Buffy sighed, “Spike went through his own torment at the hands of Angelus and Drusilla. Spike really did love her, but her love compared to his was fleeting at best. He told me once how they would mock him for being wheelchair bound and Angelus would…well, he would fuck Dru right in front of Spike because he knew how much it hurt him. I think that’s when whatever destiny Spike had must have started. He came to me and made a truce in the hopes of getting Angelus away from Dru and also according to him, he actually liked the world and didn’t want to see it destroyed like they were planning.” She sighed again, “Anyway, that’s probably the first instance where I started to see Spike in a somewhat different light. Less of a danger and more of a nuisance if that makes sense.”

“Yeah,” Clark nodded. “I guess I could see that.”

“Okay, so skip ahead a few years, when I’m in my first year of college. I’ve seen Spike once in that time when he kidnapped Willow and Xander, trying to make Willow preform a love spell to get Dru back. Apparently, our little truce didn’t sit well with her and she dumped him.” Buffy shrugged, “We had one more real fight where we were actually trying to kill each other that year, and then a few months later the Initiative planted the chip in his head and then once again he came to us for asylum.” A small smile tugged at her lips, “We fought like cats and dogs that whole year. I think our bickering is partly what drove Giles to drinking so much. Then sometime during the next year when Dawn arrived and my mom got sick, he realized he was in love with me.” Buffy sighed. “It wasn’t a healthy love though, not even a little bit. He was obsessed with me. He had a weird shrine to me and he had, the super nerd Warren make a lifelike robot of me for reasons I’m sure you can guess.”

Clark grimaced before saying, “Is that the same Warren that–”

“The one and the same.” She interrupted. “I’ve dealt with some pretty gross demons before, but as far as Warren goes, he’s probably the worst human I’ve ever had to deal with.” Buffy sighed, “Anyway, as weird as Spike’s obsession with me was, he did some things that year that really surprised me. Things that normal vampires wouldn’t do, though I still to this day haven’t decided if Spike was the unique one or if Angelus was, because I know for a fact Spike isn’t the first vampire to keep a portion of his humanity after being turned.” She shook her head getting back on topic, “Anyway, he protected my sister’s secret when Glory tortured him for information and he promised to protect Dawn until the end of the world. When I came back the next year, I didn’t really acknowledge it at the time, but he was still there. Still looking out for my baby sister. It’s strange how you don’t see those things when they happen, but Spike loved Dawn like a little sister and he loved my mom too. For some reason he was drawn to us Summers women.” She sighed and looked at Clark. “I already told you when I came back, I went to a dark place.”

Clark nodded, his eyes studying her face. “You have.”

“I went to that dark place with Spike, I didn’t… when I came back, I was numb and I didn’t know it at the time, but my Slayer had gotten stronger. Part of me hated my friends, I was furious with them for bringing me back and expecting me to be happy about it.” She swallowed, “Spike became my confidant at first, he became my quiet solace. I could sit with him and just be… he didn’t…he didn’t expect me to just be okay like everyone else. I was the one who made the first move…we were under a spell at the time but that didn’t stop me from making a second move after it was broken. One night not long after our second make out session, after my Watcher decided I needed to learn to do things on my own and left, we got into an argument about the kiss and I hit him,” she frowned bitterly, rolling her eyes. “He retaliated and must have realized his chip didn’t fire. The next day, well he started a real fight with me. The first one we had since…well since our brawl before the chip.” Buffy could feel her cheeks heat up at the memory, “It was the first time I felt alive since my resurrection and one thing led to another and we…well we weren’t fighting anymore. At least not with fists. It was the first time I didn’t have to hold back and it was exhilarating.” She looked at her hands, “And the next day I told him how disgusting we were, and I was cruel and awful to him.” She shook her head. “I’m not saying that he didn’t give as good as he got, but I was always the one saying the cruel stuff first. I was awful to him Clark; I beat him once and left him for the sunrise. He was trying to help me…well, I thought I accidentally killed someone.” She pursed her lips, even the memory of Warren now days could send her into a rage. “I hadn’t, Warren once again was trying to fuck with my life, but both of us thought I did. He didn’t understand why I had to turn myself in, how much even thought of hurting someone innocent was killing me. I…I just snapped. I honestly don’t know how he managed to make it to safety on time.”

She didn’t realize she was crying until she felt Clark’s arms come around her. “He still had bruises a week later and vampires, they heal fast.” She sniffled. “Shortly after that my ex-Riley came to town and somewhat reminded me why being with a soulless vampire was a bad thing. I realized that what we were doing…we had to stop. I was using him and it wasn’t fair to either of us, so I broke things off.” Buffy shook her head, “It was hard, because I really did still want him, but I resisted. Some things happened, over the next month or two, my friends ended up finding out about us and one night, he showed up at my house. I was pretty banged up from a fight earlier that evening and he tried to…I’m not even sure he knew what he was doing…but he tried to rape me.” Buffy said quietly, she felt Clark’s arms stiffen around her, this was the judgment she’d been waiting for. “I kicked him off, and he was shocked at himself and then I said, ask me again how I could ever love you?”

She looked at Clark then, and she could see the anger swirling in his blue eyes. “That’s why Spike got his soul. He thought it was the only way he could be sure never to hurt me again. He wanted to be the man I deserved. He did it for selfish reasons of course, but the outcome of those reasons? It was worth it in the end, because he’s the reason we don’t still have a Hellmouth in Sunnydale California.”

Clark shook his head, “I don’t…how can you have feelings for someone after they…even if he didn’t, how could you have not wanted to kill him?”

Buffy shook her head. “Because love isn’t rational, because it can be beautiful or a nightmare, and unfortunately feelings can’t just be flipped on and off. I think if he hadn’t gotten his soul, I would have felt differently, and maybe I eventually would have stopped caring about him. You have to understand though…what he did, it’s never been done before. He fought against his nature and became something incredible for it. I think I would be kinda a hypocrite if I could forgive and still love Angel for what he did to me without a soul, but couldn’t forgive and still have feelings for Spike.”

“Your ability to forgive, Buffy…I think you might have me beat in that department.” Clark said.

She shook her head, “I don’t necessarily think that’s true. I don’t think I can ever truly forgive Willow for bringing me back, and you now know what I did to Angelus.” She sighed. “I really do think it depends on the transgression. Willow tore me out of Heaven, she made me immortal, denying me the peace and reward that all Slayers crave. Angelus went after people I love and he tormented and killed my sister Slayers, all of which were young girls, newly called. I know what Wes said, and part of its true, but Spike was just the catalyst, he was not necessarily the cause. It was my hate, my emotions guiding my Slayer, and it wasn’t the first time that part of me wanted to kill Willow nor was it only her that wanted to destroy Angelus for what he had done.”

“And the claim?” Clark asked.

Buffy sighed, “It was something that was swirling around my head for a while, and at first it was absolutely a hundred percent my Slayer. But by the time I started seriously considering it, that was definitely all me.”

Clark looked away, “You wanted to bind yourself to him for eternity.”

She was silent at his words; she knew what he was thinking and he was wrong. She remembered very clearly why she wanted to do it. “It…I really did want to win, Clark. I know you’re thinking I must have been head over heels in love, but… I loved Spike, I did and I still do, but not…It was the type of love you hold for your best friend, for the person who gets you more than anyone else. I’m not saying it wasn’t romantic in nature either, but it was a love that formed over time. There was no cupid moment. I knew we were compatible sexually; I knew he would never leave me, and I knew it would make us stronger. Claims, they don’t even require love to be fulfilled, just a mutual respect for one another and I knew we could make it work.”

Clark sighed, leaning his head against the back of the couch. “Why didn’t you then?”

“Fear,” Buffy said simply. “Fear of the unknown, fear that he would say no, and fear that he would say yes.”

She watched Clark swallow. “And you want to do the same to me?”

Buffy blushed. “I-I don’t know. Yes, I think so…” She was silent for a moment. Did she want to claim Clark? Her Slayer seemed to think so, but was that the prophecy or an actual want. She certainly didn’t want to lead him on, so she said “But I think it’s something that could happen in the heat of the moment.” She could literally feel her face heating up even more. “Just, if…if I ever bite you when we…and say ‘Mine’, don’t answer unless you’re willing to do the same.”

“I’m assuming when you say bite, you mean breaking skin.” He said raising an eyebrow.

“I do.” She admitted. “That’s basically what a claim is, it’s a symbolic ritual of sharing one’s life force, blood, saliva, semen. The mixing of your essence with another to create two halves of a whole.”

A slow amused smile broke across his lips. “That actually sounds kind of beautiful, if not a little messy.”

Buffy snorted, her own amusement growing at his analogy. “Anything else you want to know, before we continue our tour?”

His eyes slowly gave her a once over, before he shook his head. “No, I think that was more than enough for today.” He looked down, “It’s hard for me to picture you like that, being cruel I mean. Not when…not when you’ve been so nice to me. I don’t think I’ll ever truly understand anything you told me about him and you, and…and if I’m being honest, I can’t help feeling…” He looked at her seriously, his mouth set in a firm line. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t come back from the dead again, because I can’t promise I will be very nice.”

She found herself giggling at the visual. Dear God, that would be funny, especially with how quiet and reserved Clark was. Spike would drive him up the wall. “Oh, trust me neither will he, even with the soul he had the ability to drive just about anyone mad with rage.”

“Well, then it’s probably a good thing he’s not around anymore. I don’t think I’d like to be responsible for killing someone you cared about.” Clark said seriously.

Buffy rolled her eyes; he might be from another planet but he was definitely a hundred percent male. “Yes, Clark, lucky for you, you only have one of my ex’s left to contend with and he’s married.” She pushed herself away from him, grabbing his hand as she did and pulling him to his feet as she stood. “Now, come on, I’ll show you the training room.”

12 notes · View notes

secret-engima · 4 years

Text

Lunafreya Nox Fleuret DoTF Characterization Rant

OKAY, ME RANT RAMBLING ON LUNA’S CHARACTERIZATION IN DAWN OF THE FUTURE IS A GO.

This is … likely going to get messy, but I’ll try to keep it at least moderately coherent. Lemme start by saying that- for the most part- I did actually enjoy Luna’s chap. I’ve been enjoying the book (kinda-sorta-mostly, I really liked Aranea’s chap at least) and I don’t think it’s like- a BAD book? Necessarily? But I feel like it is extremely telling in regards to how the characterization/lore is treated that my brain is automatically filing this thing under “fanfic that’s not my HC but is okay-ish” rather than “canon I will be gleefully tweaking as I please”. My brain is literally looking at this officially licensed book and equating it to fanfic. To fanfic that NEEDS EDITING.

With that out of the way, lemme attempt to summarize my (main) issues with Luna’s Characterization and then I’ll expand on them from there. Get ready for the salt.

1. Luna’s backstory is inconsistent. She herself states multiple times that Oracle training is grueling and involves both physical and mental trials as well as things like fasting for long periods of time WHILE doing said training, yet she is mostly treated like a well-meaning but overall pampered, naive princess who is only now being forced into hard circumstances and has to adapt accordingly. She is also treated like she doesn’t know “common people” that well and doesn’t know how to interact or pick up things like lies (????). A common example is how she treats Sol as trustworthy but reserved when according to Sol’s POV she is literally debating shooting Luna as a possible threat. And Luna supposedly doesn’t pick up on this danger. But we’ll get back to that.

2. Luna is characterized as being oblivious to how people outside Rich Oracle Circles live. That despite traveling all over the world she has never really seen it’s “ugly” sides because she’s always traveled in fancy guarded processions with the sick brought to her. Pretty sure the book specifically mentions at one point that she’s never “considered” what it would be like to be anything other than an Oracle. Admittedly this issue could go under number 1 or 3a but I’m putting it here because I’m salty.

3a. This and the next problem are heavily intertwined and, not going to lie, I could make an entire rant just about these two issues all by themselves, not just in Luna’s context. The first is that Luna is portrayed as not being able to make her own decisions, not even wanting to make her own decisions, until she is forced to or has her “eyes opened” by Sol, our jaded Long Night survivor character. The author treats Luna’s sense of duty as some form of social brainwashing she needs to “get over” and spoiler alert I hate it with every fiber of my being.

3b. Playing right off the whole “Luna is incapable of making her own decisions and that’s why she does her freaking job until someone ‘opens her eyes’” is the idea that Luna’s faith is a character flaw. Lemme reiterate. The story treats Luna’s faith. As a character flaw. Rather than the entire cornerstone to her character and one of the big reasons she’s as amazing as she is. Her faith is treated as foolish and shortsighted, something that has only survived for this long because it has never been challenged and, heads up, the rant I am going to go into on this one specific thing is going to be long and extremely salty.

Alright I think I’ve covered the basics. Starting from the top, BRING ON THE SALT.

…

1. Luna is pampered, well-meaning but naive and bad at reading ulterior motives of people.

….*slow, deep breath* Luna. The Oracle. Who became the youngest Oracle in history. Because her mother was murdered in front of her while her home was burned down and conquered by the people who then proceeded to rule her country, subvert her brother to their cause, and generally control and monitor every aspect of her life that they could. Luna, who was fully prepared to take a single suitcase and escape her own home and run off alone to get to Altissia and had to be stopped by her own brother (who you’ll note brought a bunch of soldiers with him, which indicates he did not expect a submissive response if he came alone).

This girl who was canonically physically abused as a child by a Niflheim officer (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iZHzBtIfpdg slow this down if you need to confirm, but she is grabbed and manhandled and hit by an adult man when she only looks to be twelve, around the age Tenebrae first fell), who has spent twelve years living under the rule of a nation that is not only aggressively atheist but has willfully attempted to kill one of the very beings she serves and openly plans to do so again. The woman who successfully survived the fall of Insomnia with only one magic-less glaive as her backup for most of the event, then evaded the search efforts of an entire empire with only her own wits, a dog, a Messenger who has only ever been shown to talk rather than fight, and the extremely grudging on-off help of her brother who works for said empire. All while waking up the Astrals and forging covenants that were slowly killing her from the strain, which is the exact thing the empire was trying to prevent her from doing. Then, when it became necessary to complete the last covenant, turned herself in to the very same empire that has imprisoned her since she was a child and has been actively hunting/trying to stop or kill her since Insomnia’s fall.

That girl. Is pampered. Is naive. Is bad at reading people and telling when they have ulterior motives or are lying.

Pull the other one. I’ll kick you.

But seriously, how are we supposed to believe this? Luna’s life post Tenebrae’s fall to Niflheim is only pampered in the sense that she was given fancy clothes and fed regularly (outside the grueling fasting periods mentioned in this same book). She had no freedom, no privacy, her guards were all either men who wore the same uniform as those who killed her mother or were monsters infected with the very scourge she is sworn to purify. The Oracle is famous, is revered by the people. To keep the people on their side, the Empire would have flaunted her, would have taken her to all the shiny events. Luna would have had to dine with, converse with, even dance with the very same people who ordered and condoned the murder of her mother, her own imprisonment, and the brainwashing of her own brother to the enemy side. She would have been the epitome of a bird in a gilded cage or a dog on a silk leash and humans are not meant to live like that.

Am I really expected to think she survived a situation that oppressive, that toxic, that actively hurtful, for years by being naive and bad at reading people? Am I really expected to believe that she cannot tell when people are out to use her or hurt her or are lying to her? Am I really expected to believe that she is pampered and doesn’t have, at the very least, PTSD from seeing her mother murdered and her brother join the very people who did it, let alone everything else that would have followed over those years?

Really?

Luna didn’t have a pampered life. She suffered abuse. Longterm emotional abuse, likely sporadic physical abuse until she learned to play along well enough to escape such punishments, and almost certainly gaslighting (again: religious leader being held captive by an aggressively atheist nation that wants to kill the pantheon this religious leader communes with).

Luna would have learned to navigate the canonically cutthroat politics of Niflheim while being at best an outsider and at worst a target because of her beliefs, her nationality, and her loyalties to the Lucians (nobody was surprised when Luna went on the run. Nobody. Her continued devotion and loyalty to the Lucians -Niflheim’s enemy- was absolutely a well known factor). She would have learned to pick truth from lie and when to pretend she hadn’t noticed in order to survive. She would have lived twelve years knowing that any mistakes or misplaced moments of trust would be paid for in either her suffering of the suffering of the people close to her like her servants, or just the citizens of Tenebrae in general.

And none of this is taking into account her Oracle training, which the book does not elaborate on but repeatedly states was hard and grueling and she completed it years earlier than any Oracle in history.

There are a lot of words I would use to describe Luna, but pampered and naive are not among them.

…

2. Luna is oblivious to how people outside her rich circles live and has never considered being anything else but an Oracle until Sol specifically points it out.

The book states that she mostly travels in procession (ie, with tons of servants to serve her every need and bodyguards to keep the masses at bay) so clearly she can’t go anywhere too dangerous, otherwise her servants wouldn’t be able to come. Right? Oh boy where do I start with this.

I know! Let’s start with the fact that Luna canonically maintains the blessings on Havens! You know those things. They’re your only safe place to camp at night and they can be found in all sorts of nifty locations like the middle of the wilderness where cars can’t go, chocobos won’t go, packs of wild animals will literally leap out of the bushes to eat you (Voretooth packs can get up to twelve or more members all trying to eat you at once, fun fact), and poor choice in clothes will lead to broken ankles at best? The ones that can be found in the depths of locations so dangerous that even the Hunters are leary of going inside and are actively forbidden from approaching unless they are a very high rank?

Off the top of my head some of the Havens that come to mind is the one in the middle of Malmalam thicket, the top of an active volcano, multiple spots in the middle of the voretooth and coeurl infested desert, two up in Vesperpool aka the home of all demon crocodiles and flocks of cockatrice that are bigger than the average car and can literally turn you into stone if you aren’t careful.

Yeah those places. She maintains those. Depending on how often Havens need to be maintained and if the weather/nature shortens that time then she might also have to periodically enter the dungeons Noctis explores in game that also have Havens hidden inside where it is always dark all the time and infested with daemons.

The book also states that the sick (who are highly infectious and not supposed to be touched by people who can’t heal the scourge and in the later stages of sickness become extremely violent and prone to biting in order to infect other people) are … brought to her…

By whom? Exactly?

Moving on from that giant and obvious plot hole to the “never seen or considered other lifestyles” bit: Luna has traveled literally all over the world. In her duties of healing the otherwise incurable she has gone all over Niflheim, Tenebrae, and Lucis. She has walked through the streets of cities filled with lights and glamor and stood on the dirt roads of towns so small they have to go to the next town an hour or more away to buy groceries or check their mailbox and who’s royal hotel suite is just a caravan with a new coat of paint and “welcome Oracle!” sign. Luna’s work is to cure the Starscourge, which is a disease that I can almost promise the rich don’t get. Because the rich and fancy do not risk their lives by going into daemon territory (Prompto, a middle class Insomnian, didn’t even know what wild animals would be like, you expect the rich and famous to be any better?).

The vast majority of Luna’s patients would be people like Dave the Hunter, or Sania the scientist who wades into the wilds. The truck drivers and the farmers and the electricians risking their lives to repair power lines in the middle of nowhere. She wouldn’t be going to cities except to talk to the refugees who fled there from the outside and thus picked up the Scourge. Her only two social circles would be Niflheim’s cutthroat nobility and the “unwashed masses” who come to her for healing. Guess which ones she’ll be more invested in getting to know on a personal/friendly basis and interacting with.

Of course Luna has interacted with and understands “common folk”. Luna is a caregiver, not just physically, but emotionally. She is beloved by the people because she is kind. That means she talks to them. More importantly, she listens. She has held the hands of the farmer as he begs her to heal him, because the harvest season is so close, and if he can’t work, if he dies, then what will become of his wife or the people his farm feeds? She has embraced the sobbing refugee mother as the other breaks down in gratitude for a child who’s skin is a healthy shade and who’s veins no longer bulge a sickly purple. She has met people who are not rich, but who are content. Who have lives that do not hinge on the razor thin dance of staying true to self and not exposing weakness to those who want to eat her alive. Who can laugh with their neighbors and kiss that nice boy down the street just for the fun of it, who can defy curfew to dance in the rain with the person they love and risk, at most, a lecture and a weekend grounding.

And no, they aren’t rich, no, they aren’t influential or powerful, but they are peaceful. They are happy.

Am I really expected to believe that Luna has not looked on these people’s lives from afar, listened to their rambles as they try to distract themselves from the sickness she is drawing from their veins, and not yearned to be the same? That she hasn’t thought over and over again about running away and being free from her gilded cage? That she doesn’t know anything about the lives of the people she heals even as she walks down their streets and steps into their houses so she can heal those who are too sick or too violent to be safely taken out of their room? That she has never thought about what life could be like if she wasn’t an Oracle as she watches the landscape roll by and walks through the wilderness to find the lonely farmsteads that the townsfolk tell her has sick children that cannot be let out of the shed for fear they will bite?

Setting all of that to one side, what human hasn’t thought of being someone else? What person on this planet, hasn’t looked at another person’s life that is so very different from their own and gone “huh, I wonder what that would be like” even if only for a moment before moving on and forgetting about it? Humans are creatures that dream by nature, that are curious by nature. To assume that Luna is not just because she gets to have the fancy dresses and servants is stupid.

…

3a: Luna is unable to make her own decisions and is only the dutiful Oracle because she doesn’t know any better and needs a “wiser” rebellious character to “open her eyes”.

Okay buckle up. I have tried to suppress the salt until now but over these last two points I don’t care. I will be salty. I will be sarcastic. I will be mean. I will reference Real World faiths (tho I’ll try to keep that to a minimum).

Both 3a and 3b are actually systemic issues in storytelling (particularly noticeable in movies/shows but maybe that’s because I’m pretty lucky with my book choices) that I despise with a passion. Specifically 3a relates to the chronic issue writers seem to have with characters not being allowed to be happy with their role in life. There’s this persistent thought, this narrative push, that if a character is following in the footsteps of their family, is entering the “traditional” profession that their parents (or grandparents, or entire generations of predecessors) have been in before them then they must be unhappy with their lot in life. That this is clearly the character being “repressed” and that if they are content then they are either a bad guy (see: every antagonist from a proud military family or every ruler who thinks they are better than everyone because of bloodline ever) or they are just blind to their own unhappiness.

Now, the basic idea of “character discovers they are unhappy in current role and seeks a new one” can actually be done really well. But those stories that do it well have a lot of internal conflict, a lot of self-reflection and searching and choosing to take a new path after really giving it some thought. Maybe they have help along the way, or encouragement, or another character to show that it’s possible by example and that’s okay.

What is not okay is infantilizing a strong, intelligent character by saying “oh it just never occurred to them until they are told that they are unhappy by this much more worldly wise character and then they went and did it”. That is not okay. It not only trivializes the efforts of every real person who has proudly followed in a parent’s footsteps to become something (a doctor, a missionary, a soldier, an actor, even an electrician, pick a life goal and I promise someone has been inspired to do that by their parent being one before them) but it also takes an otherwise strong, dedicated character and implies that they are too stupid to think for themselves or have any free will until the plot and a Shinier Character demands it.

Lunafreya Nox Fleuret is an Oracle, as her mother was before her, and her mother before her, and all the way back two thousand years to the very first Oracle we see in canon. Possibly back even farther, depending on if any of Aera’s ancestors were Oracles too. That isn’t a suffocating tradition, that is a heritage, that is a culture, that is a necessary, life-saving service that canon proves literally kept the world from falling into eternal darkness (Luna was the last Oracle, the day after she dies is literally the last time we players see sunlight until the end of the game when Noctis dies to restore it). Luna is not stupid or repressed for following in those footsteps, she is breathtakingly strong for shouldering her heritage as the Last Oracle with pride even when the forces controlling every other aspect of her life want her to be ashamed of it and give it up.

The empire that took over her home when she was twelve are actively anti-magic and anti-Astral. Luna is someone who speaks to the Astrals and is born with a magic that can heal the very sickness they want to weaponize. They couldn’t outright forbid her from training to be the next Oracle because that would cause the people to riot, but they could and absolutely would try to make her give up in any way they could. They would have insulted her, demeaned her, hurt her, and imprisoned her. They wouldn’t have wanted a “real” Oracle, they would have wanted a puppet who said pretty promises and then did nothing to stop them.

It would have been so easy for Luna to go down the same path her brother did. To give in to the empire and it’s propaganda that she would have been forced to listen to every single day of her life for twelve whole years. It would have made her life so much easier to be a puppet Oracle who didn’t have to walk miles through the wilderness to maintain Havens, or defy the empire by maintaining loyalty to Lucis, or leave her manor home to heal the sick that could not come to her themselves. As a puppet Oracle she could have stayed in the Manor and only treated cases that could reach her doors and were vetted by the empire. She could have eaten the finest foods and worn the best dresses and never had to worry about a pack of hungry Voretooths or a rogue Behemoth tearing her apart. Most of all, Niflheim wouldn’t have been nearly as oppressive or violent. They would have gladly given her the illusion of freedom and control as long as she played along rather than been fully willing and prepared to run into the jungle with a suitcase just to escape as seen in the movie.

Luna was not blindly fitting into a mold and she was not and has never been incapable of making a decision. The fact that she shows up in canon as a strong, dedicated woman who is in control of her emotions and not afraid to face down a giant sea monster with the power to summon tidal waves with just her words and a glorified pointy stick proves that. The idea that she needs a “wiser” character to come alongside her and “free her” from her own duties is not only stupid, it undermines one of the key things that makes Luna such a strong character despite her relative lack of screentime.

Furthermore, canonically, one of Luna’s main reasons for sticking with her duty as Oracle isn’t because it’s tradition, it’s because of what Niflheim did. In the Kingsglaive movie, when Nyx Ulric is getting angry at Luna for doing really reckless, life-threatening things, she tells him quote:

“I do not fear death. What I fear is doing nothing and losing everything.”

That’s not a woman who is blindly following a path laid out for her. That is a woman who is desperately, furiously fighting against the people who killed her mother in front of her the best way she can: by being the Oracle they cannot stand for her to be.

But sure. Luna is only the Oracle because she doesn’t know better and it never occurred to her to be anything else until some jaded kid with a shotgun made a snide comment about it.

3b: Luna’s faith is a character flaw that has only survived this long because it wasn’t challenged by a worldly wise character who knows better.

Not going to lie but words cannot express how much I hate this trope. This is another thing that shows up a lot in television/movies but also in books too, and that is that a character is not allowed to have a faith in something/religion unless they are 1. Foolish, 2. Brainwashed/tricked into it, 3. A crazy fanatic, or 4. It’s a character flaw they have to overcome by becoming more jaded and atheist and hateful.

Because … that’s not how it works. There are- millions (billions) of people all over the real world who are intelligent, well educated, thoughtful, kind, and religious. And no I’m not just talking about Christianity (tho I am Christian so you can see why this trope grinds my gears so hard). There’s Hinduism, there’s Islam, there’s Buddhism, there’s Judaism, there’s so many faiths and belief systems okay. And no we don’t tend to play well with each other or accept the validity of the others but that doesn’t mean we’re fanatics or brainwashed or stupid. And no we really don’t appreciate it when media introduces a character who follows a religion (even fictional ones!) only to make them an antagonist or rip it away from them in the name of “improving their character”. Just like every other cultural group ever who really doesn’t like their heritage and culture being used as a butt of jokes or is turned into a caricature or used as the basis for the antagonist being Evil™.

But no. We can’t possibly have a character who’s faith makes them strong or gives them comfort in times of hardship unless they are deluded. We can’t possibly have a character who is both intelligent and faithful. We can’t possibly show a character who is breathtakingly courageous and selfless as well as religious unless we point at their faith and go oh look a horrible character flaw to overcome by having non-believer characters open their eyes via sarcastic commentary.

And look. Look. I am well aware that the plot of Dawn of the Future has Bahamut as the Bad Guy™. I am fully aware of that. But if you want to be purely honest and technical, that doesn’t invalidate Luna’s faith because (spoilers) the other Astrals fight Bahamut to save the world. They hear her cries and the come to fight on behalf of Lucis and Noctis and all of Eos and they kill Bahamut even when that ensures their own destruction.

But we’re not actually here to talk about whether the Astrals deserve Luna’s faith in them, we’re here to talk about why insisting Luna’s faith is, by nature of being a faith, treated like a flaw and why it is treated like something so weak it only survived to this point because Luna didn’t face anything “bad” enough to “snap her out of it”.

Spoiler alert, it’s not a flaw and it’s not weak.

Going back to something I have mentioned several times already: Niflheim is an empire run by people who actively want to kill the very beings most of the planetary population worships. The very same people in charge of Luna’s life for twelve years, starting from when she was twelve and very emotionally vulnerable and traumatized, hate the Astrals. I repeat: They hate the Astrals. They have devised weapons to try (and spectacularly fail) to kill them. Half their continent is a winter nightmare-land because they tried to kill Shiva the Glacian and she went “haha, nice try, lemme leave a fake corpse here that constantly pumps out freezing temperatures and blizzards”.

Am I seriously, honestly, supposed to believe that these people didn’t try to tear down her faith at every single opportunity? That Ravus wouldn’t have tried to bully and cajole and harass her into abandoning her faith because he knew that her faith was what kept her walking her chosen path as Oracle and that said path was destined to kill her? Am I seriously supposed to believe that Luna didn’t spend those twelve years having to sit there and bite her tongue to keep from raging at these cutthroat nobles as they gloated and sneered and spat on the names of the Astrals who gave Luna the very magic she uses to heal those in need?

Luna never needed Sol to come along and say “what have the Astrals ever done for you?” because I promise that she’s heard some variation of that exact phrase from everyone in her life. From her own brother to the Emperor himself she has heard some form of this question, this taunt. In the Kingsglaive movie, General Glauca even says something to the order of, “To what god do you pray? The gods do not listen.” Right before he kidnaps her.

Luna’s faith isn’t something blind, and it is not a flaw. It is a cornerstone of her character. Luna’s faith is a bloody, stubborn, tenacious thing that she has nurtured and shored up and been steadied by through twelve years of emotional abuse and physical imprisonment. Luna’s faith is an unshakeable thing that can only come from long nights spent crying into the silent dark of the room and asking “is this real? Am I right? Should I give up? This hurts so much, what do I do?” and finding the answer to be “yes this is real. Yes I am right. No, I won’t give up even though it kills me. Yes it hurts, but what I believe in is stronger than this pain.”

Faith is not optimism and it is not fanaticism. Optimism can be broken by hardship and fanaticism has no room for selfless kindness or acceptance of other people not being as devoted as they are. Faith is personal. Faith is a bedrock, and maybe it’s a bedrock that makes no sense to people on the outside, but it is a bedrock and it can make mountains move.

Just as Luna proves when she runs rings around an Empire to win the respect and cooperation of Titan and of Ramuh, to stand amid the rain and tell an enraged TideMother that “it is in mercy that men offer praise, and in shedding grace that the gods solicit worship” and not flinch because she knows she is right.

Luna’s faith is a fierce, scarred thing that has taken every kind of suppression and propaganda and poison the empire could throw at it and kept on going.

Furthermore. Luna’s faith is treated by Sol as something empty. Because when did the Astrals ever help her or comfort her or save her?

I can answer that. They helped her when they gave her Umbra and Pryna, who kept her company through her life and gave her a way to talk to Noctis. A way to reach out to a person who was not either imperial, warped by imperial propaganda, or too afraid to speak out against the empire for fear of dying. They comforted her when Gentiana became a second mother for Luna after the death of Queen Sylva. A physical shoulder to cry on, a sounding board to bounce fears off of, a well of advice when it was asked of her, a rock to retreat to when Ravus turned away from her and the empire continued to control as much of her life as they could.

Gentiana, who is really Shiva in disguise, has been with Luna since she was a small child.

One of the Astrals themselves has been with Luna for almost her entire life. Has guided her, has comforted her, has led her to safety as she fled Insomnia’s ruins.

Shiva had no reason to do that. The Oracles have done their duty since the time of Aera without her help or company. Shiva didn’t have to stay. She didn’t have to linger and offer comfort and become Luna’s friend. She didn’t have to listen to the last words of a scared young woman who wanted only to see her fiancé one last time and promise to carry them to Noctis in the event of her death. Shiva didn’t have to cry on behalf of Luna. Shiva didn’t have to help Luna remember what it was like to be an ordinary woman (“Yet others need not hide their grief. Is she [Luna] so different from them?”), and in fact, if Shiva had played up to most of the stereotypes, she would have done the opposite and done her hardest to suppress any part of Luna’s personality that wasn’t her Oracle duties.

But she did. Shiva was there, and she remembered. Shiva loved and we as a fandom may yell at the Astrals a lot for not doing more to take care of the Starscourge, but of all of them Shiva gave the most because she came down and she lived, and walked, and loved this Oracle, this scared child, this frightened, weary woman who couldn’t even turn to her own family for comfort. Shiva’s husband Ifrit was betrayed by humankind and yet Shiva still defended them, she kills Ifrit to protect the man (the king) that Luna loved.

And at the end of the game, in those final moments outside the Citadel, when it’s just Noctis and his Retinue against all of Ardyn’s armies of daemons, when Luna calls out to these Astrals whom she has remained faithful to her entire life, even unto her death…

They answer.

Every. Last. Astral. Who is not corrupted like Ifrit, comes down at her prayer and fights. Even Leviathan who’s only voiced lines are screaming wrath against the humanity that forgot her, even Bahamut who otherwise remains aloof in his plane of magic beyond the concerns of the mortal world. Luna calls, and they answer her.

“What have the Astrals ever done for her” indeed.

Luna’s faith is a driving force of her character, it is irrevocably intertwined with her duty, with her choices, with her desire to help people and save the world even if it costs her own life, and in the end her faith is rewarded. Not in the way we want for her, because we love the ultimate happy endings where everyone lives and nobody dies. But Final Fantasy XV was never a story about happy endings. It was a story about coming of age, and tragedy, and sacrifice. Of holding onto hope against all opposition, and of having faith that someday the dawn will return, even if bringing about that dawn requires personal sacrifice.

…

Okay this is over 5k words, I’m tired, and I’m extremely salty so I can’t really figure out how to wrap this up but there we go, my salty personal rant about why I think Dawn of the Future messed up some really critical parts of Luna’s characterization and why it’s Really Bad that they messed up those specific things.

Also I kinda despise them making Bahamut the bad guy in DotF because yes he’s a jerk and yes he really could have done the whole Prophecy thing a ton better, but in the original FFXV one of the things that made the game so heartbreakingly tragic to me is that most of the characters involved weren’t pure evil. They could be greedy, and flawed, and crazy, but in the end the source of the problem was too big to pin on one character.

Do you pin the entire thing on the god of war for his mistakes in trying to bring about peace, or the god of fire for trying to destroy humanity and no longer being there to do his job and purify the plague? Do you blame the Astrals for their hubris or humanity for theirs, because Ifrit loved humanity until they betrayed him so deeply he went mad? Do you hate Ardyn for causing the Long Night or pity him for being a victim of Somnus’s greed? Can you blame Somnus for everything even though the Scourge was going on long before him and kept spreading long after he sealed Ardyn away? The whole thing is a tragedy because at this point it’s a problem too big to fix without someone paying a price too heavy and we hate that because the characters who pay that price are the ones we grow to love over the game.

But that is an entirely different rant for an entirely different day when I am not so tired and my hands no longer hurt from writing this much in one sitting. Thank you and good night.

77 notes · View notes