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forestlingincorporated · 3 years

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I wanna talk about Janet Drake

I’m not against exaggeratedly evil versions of Tim’s parents, tbh. It’s fanfiction, if we can depict an Exaggeratedly Good version of Bruce (which we can, and I do, and I love) then we can depict the Drakes as Exaggeratedly Bad. As someone who personally identifies with Tim, and his brand of complicated parental abuse in particular, I find it cathartic to uncomplicate that abuse and rescue him from the Obviously Evil Bad People.

That said, since much of comics lore is passed down word of mouth, the oral tradition surrounding Tim has developed this idea of Janet as The Worse Parent between her and Jack that was never really present in the comics. We see much LESS of Janet, and we have 20 years worth of comics depicting Jack as a neglectful hotheaded idiot who ultimate does love his son. More importantly, Jack isn’t very much LIKE Tim, so there is a habit to attribute Tim’s traits to his mother... and, as someone who really really identifies with Tim, Tim has... some negative traits. Tim can be a bitch sometimes. He’s fiercely intelligent and sweet and kind, with a strong sense of justice, but he can be cold and judgmental and unthinking - he fights those traits, but he does have them.

And it is perfectly fine to depict Janet that way. I’ve enjoyed depictions of Cold Calculating Janet Drake, but it’s not the ONLY option, and I want to challenge fans to consider different avenues. Tim could pick up these traits from anywhere: a nanny, Mrs. Mc Ilvaine (”Mrs. Mac”), a teacher, tv, Sherlock Holmes novels, Bruce Wayne himself. Tim is capable of not being like EITHER parent.

So, what do we KNOW about Janet? (I’ll also touch on Jack, but only in scenes he appears with Janet.)

When Janet was first introduced she was depicted as a gentle but “modern” woman. This was written in 1989, told by a 13 year old Tim, so this theoretically was meant to take place in 1979. I’m not here to give a lecture on the history of sex discrimination in the united states, but much of the legislation protecting women in the workforce or surrounding women’s bodily autonomy would have been very very new in this initial depiction.

Here, Janet is shown to be encouraging, emotional, maternal, and projects her own feelings onto Tim. Jack is shown to be slightly sexist, possibly discouraging, but not overbearing. And the artist is shown not to know how to draw children.

To insert some speculation, I think it’s important to note all the Drakes witnessed a terrible murder/accident that day. I point this out, because this is the last time Jack and Janet are depicted this way. It’s possible they changed as a result of this event specifically.

However, this is also a story being told by Tim. It’s also possible these events aren’t really “real” at all, and Tim is misremembering what his parents were like as a three-year-old, possibly projecting a more palatable version of his parents into the narrative. This is entirely up to personal interpretation.

In fact, the Drakes are shown in Legend of the Dark Knight attending Haly’s Circus, and the artist knows what a toddler looks like and they’re depicted as already having a slightly strained relationship. Jack is clearly on the defensive, and Janet seems to be passive-aggressive, though she could just be attempting to explain the situation to her toddler honestly. The intended tone isn’t especially clear.

I do want to point out, in this depiction, Tim isn’t being carried like he was in the previous one. He’s walking ahead of his parents, which isn’t a terrible horrible crime, but could be dangerous in a crowded place like the circus. Might be a subtle hint to his parents overall neglect.

Back to A Lonely Place of Dying, in Tim’s memories of the night he discovered Robin and Dick Grayson were the same person at nine-years-old, his parents are home, and watching TV together while Tim played... trucks, idk, in the living room with them. (This is semi-interesting, because you could say “oh, Tim liked vehicle toys as a kid” or you could extrapolate that this is another subtle indication of Jack’s sexism, providing Tim with appropriately “boy toys.” Either interpretation is valid. If Tim was assigned female at birth, would they have been given “girl toys,” or allowed to play with whatever they wanted?)

This is, to my knowledge, the only panel of the Drakes when Tim is between ages 3 and 13. They’re all together, which might indicate that the Drakes were home more often when Tim was 9, only later going on business trips when Tim was “old enough” but...

This is Tim’s boarding school when he’s 13. While most boarding schools in the US are for grades 9-12, Tim is clearly not a freshman at age 13; look how much younger the other kids in this panel are. In the US, the youngest you can attend most boarding schools is 7.

That means Tim could have begun going to boarding school anytime between 7 and 13. He most likely spent all of middle school in boarding school, at least. There are an almost infinite number of possible ways the Drakes handled having a business that required lots of international travel, an archeology hobby, AND a very young child. Janet staying home until Tim was 7, 11, 13, is equally possible as the Drakes having a nanny until 7, 11, 13. Tim just doesn’t talk about that period of his life very much.

(”What about Mrs. Mac?” - it is unclear when Mrs. Mac begins working for the Drakes. We only see her when Jack comes out of his coma. She could either be a long standing staff member, or a recent hire.)

Note: I’ve seen it said that it’s canon that “According to Tim, when his parents were home, they made a point to try and include him in their activities, bringing him along to events that were normally adults only.” I have never seen this panel, or I don’t remember it, so I cannot confirm, but I also cannot debunk this because... comics.

By the time Tim is 13, Jack and Janet are away on business trips a lot, with limited communication, and no firm return date. If I’m feeling generous, I’d say it was harder to communicate internationally in 1990 than it is today. If I’m not feeling generous, I’d say the Drakes are extremely wealthy, and international communication was easier than ever before in the 80s and 90s. They’re not even going home to see Tim in a week or two, they’re going home and calling Tim at boarding school in a week or two.

Even Bruce thinks its weird, though he doesn’t say so to Tim’s face. It’s written almost as if Tim’s parents’ neglect was meant to be a plot point that just got forgotten about.

Tim’s parents are fighting at this point (their poor assistant), but Janet still goes with Jack on these business trips. And she’s clearly involved in the business, somehow, but the comics never SAY what Janet’s JOB is. We’re told Jack is the exec, but Janet is ONLY ever referred to as Jack’s wife, though they’re later described as the “heads” of the company, plural.

Just to be clear, this is Jack’s business. There’s a perception that Jack is a bad business man because he and Janet fight over company decisions, and Jack looses the business after Janet dies, but Jack looses the company YEARS after Janet dies, and maintains it for about a year after No Man’s Land at that. We’re not told how Jack looses the business, but he’s got to be doing something right. Janet isn’t necessarily the “real brains” of Drake Industries.

And I’m not... gonna... touch the... exploitation and racism because... I’m not qualified to do that. But, here’s the panel. The Drakes sure seem exploitative and racist in their business decisions. Someone else can... analyze that with more nuance.

Regardless how how long they’ve been fighting, when their lives are in danger, the Drakes fall back into a loving husband and wife. Their marriage may be falling apart, but they do care about each other.

I want to show these panels because it shows that Tim and Jack do have things in common. They’re both level headed in a crisis and can be somewhat cold in their practicality. Janet meanwhile and silent. Jack is later willing rant and rave at their captors, but Janet remains silent.

That is, until they’re alone, and she finally lets herself fall apart.

God, Jack can be obnoxious. Janet just looks miserable and resigned. I actually think Tim takes after his parents in this respect in equal measure. Tim can have a temper, but he can also be fairly melancholy and defeatist.

Jack keeps reminding Janet to be strong and in control, which could be period typical sexism? But Jack seems so practiced and ready with the words of encouragement, and with Tim’s history with depression, I wonder if Janet has an inclination towards it as well.

As the end approaches, when Jack brings up Tim, Janet seems to have a lot of regret. She talks about “wasting” the good things, and I don’t think it’s too big of a stretch to assume she’s talking about time spent with her only child.

From this point on, Janet is at times spoken of, but not seen. Like here, when Jack says Janet wouldn’t approve of him and Tim being so “far apart.” He says this after he tells him he takes back his threat to send him back to boarding school, which might imply Janet was against the idea of boarding school? Though she obviously lost that argument when she was alive.

Jack will of course renege on this later, but that’s Jack Drake for you.

Or here in Tim’s illness induced dream, where he gets everything he wants. Though, since this is a fantasy of Tim’s, where his father and girlfriend are both more accepting and understanding than they are in real life, I would take this depiction of Janet with a grain of salt.

After loosing Drake Industries, Jack thinks about Janet (though, they call her Catherine/Cathy for some fucking reason) during his depressive episode. And... uh...

Hallucinates a Valkyrie???? Is this symbolic of suicidal thoughts, or is she... real? Or is he seriously hallucinating?

Anyway, we’re not here to discuss Jack’s mental state, the fact that he forgot Tim’s birthday, or that concerning “I was going to knock some sense into you but you’re still bigger than me” statement from Tim, we’re here to talk about Janet. And even though this entire arc is about Jack mourning his first wife, they don’t SAY anything about Janet herself at all. I mean, they don’t even get her name right, so I guess what was I expecting.

Then there’s Origins and Omens, which also doesn’t say anything about Janet, except that Tim’s memory of her is faulty - Janet was poisoned, her assistant Jeremy’s throat was slit on television, but Tim seems to have conflated the death he did see with the death he didn’t.

The only piece of canon to suggest that Janet might be cold, is Tim compares her to Thalia. And even then, he’s really just saying Janet was protective of him. It’s kind of a scary look to make at your kid, but Bruce does the same thing, so.

I do want to say... it’s not 100% clear if Tim is even talking about Janet. He could be talking about Dana. Dana was observably protective of Tim, though I don’t think he’s ever called her mom. He PROBABLY means Janet.

And finally we have Tim visiting his mother’s grave (in a duel Christian/Jewish cemetery, make of that what you will), where Tim says she was “a little religious.”

And that’s it! That is all we know about Janet Drake in New Earth. Hardly the Mom From Hell, but she isn’t perfect. I’d be interested in seeing some alternate depictions of her within the fandom.

I’m still gonna eat up Terrible Parents From Hell like a starving puppy dog, though. Just some food for creative thought.

#Tim Drake #janet drake #jack drake #robin #Red Robin #character analysis

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thechanelmuse · 4 years

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TW: rape

‘I May Destroy You,’ Michaela Coel’s gimlet-eyed exploration of trauma and its myriad ripple effects follows Arabella (Coel) — a funny, messy, sharp-as-hell London writer — after a dizzying night in which she’s drugged and raped by a stranger. At first, she dismisses the hazy memory as just an upsetting image in her head. Soon enough, though, Arabella reluctantly comes to understand it as the truth, and tries to work through that horrifying reality without coming apart. [...]

Not every part of Arabella has a direct line to Coel, but the series’ catalyzing experience, unfortunately, does. In 2016, Coel took a break from a marathon writing session for the second season of “Chewing Gum” to grab a drink with a friend, and was drugged and assaulted by a stranger. She’s been sifting through the emotional wreckage ever since to find some kind of clarity, if not peace. Now, with “I May Destroy You,” she’s doing it for all the world to see. “As a fellow android exploring what it means to be human,” says Coel’s friend Janelle Monáe, “watching Michaela be vulnerable on-screen as she walks in her truth gives me and so many the bravery to walk in ours.” [...]

Coel began writing “I May Destroy You” in February 2017, in between acting in TV projects like the “USS Callister” episode of “Black Mirror” and Netflix’s limited series “Black Earth Rising.” She took solo mountain trips and wrote draft after draft of what would eventually become “I May Destroy You,” spilling her stories and tangled guts onto the page, rearranging them into shapes she could better recognize. In August 2018, she spoke about her trauma publicly while delivering the Edinburgh International Television Festival’s James MacTaggart Memorial Lecture, a prestigious assignment the festival has otherwise bestowed on a cadre of white British television mainstays (as well as no fewer than three Murdochs).

The majority of Coel’s speech, delivered to a room of the U.K.’s most powerful entertainment brokers, traced the constant racism and classism she endured on the way to that Edinburgh stage — a theme subtextually underlined by the fact that Coel was, and remains, the only Black woman to have that platform. She spoke about turning her solo play “Chewing Gum Dreams” into a “Chewing Gum” TV series (which aired 2015-17 on the U.K.’s Channel 4), a transformative time that taught her the technicalities of making television and confirmed just how disinclined certain white gatekeepers are to trust a poorer Black woman’s vision. Toward the end of the 50-minute lecture, Coel revealed her assault and elucidated the industry’s inability — or unwillingness — to handle such a human emergency when pages are due. As for her recovery, she said, “It’s been therapeutic to write about it, and actively twist a narrative of pain into something with more hope, and even humor.”

When it finally came time to translate it all to the screen, “I May Destroy You” was so close to her bruised heart that Coel took on the challenge of playing several roles throughout the series’ development: creator, writer, actor, producer, director. Netflix offered her a total fee of a cool $1 million to make and star in the show, but the proposed contract wouldn’t grant Coel even a tiny percentage of the rights. She hadn’t fully realized how much claiming legal proprietorship over her work mattered to her until the prospect of not being able to emerged, at which point it became crucial.

Then, after some Googling, she realized that her CAA agents would also be profiting from the deal via the endangered practice of packaging. Stung and surprised, Coel walked away from both her agents and the offer. “I’m not anti-Netflix,” she’s quick to say now, “but I am pro-‘the creator, writer, director, actor should probably have a right.’” She’s hyper-aware of how much this project required of her, and how comparatively little granting her “a right” might cost a powerful network like Netflix. “That’s not quite fair, is it?” Coel muses. Creating the show, after all, took almost everything she had.

With the BBC, a million-dollar paycheck might not have been in the cards, but more important to Coel, she didn’t have to fight half as hard to claim ownership. (As a matter of industry course, it’s far more common for British studios to afford creators rights to their work than it is for American equivalents.) They struck a deal, and Coel got to work.[...]

“When you’re restricted,” she explains, “sometimes that’s where you find great things: in the lack of possibility.” She attributes this rather Zen approach to Hugo Blick, the “Black Earth Rising” showrunner who showed her the value of keeping a cool, empathetic head on set. Blick’s ability to step away from a gnarly situation for even 30 calming seconds is one that Coel has worked to hone for herself, especially while steering a series with such fraught ties to her history. No matter how sideways things might go, she never wants to forget just how much she loves the collaborative act of building a television show, wild complications and all.

From Forbes:

I May Destroy You’s Michaela Coel Rejected Netflix’s $1 Million Offer In Favor Of The BBC Because Of Ownership

The creative, who stars as Arabella and wrote all 12 episodes, started pitching the programme in the spring of 2017 with one of her first ports of call being Netflix who picked up her prior series Chewing Gum.

Though Netflix offered a generous upfront fee of $1 million (£800,000), the sum had strings attached, including full rights ownership away from the creator, something Coel pushed back against. Coel recalls a moment during the interview where she is speaking with a Netflix development executive on the phone, asking if she could retain even a very small 0.5% of the copyright to her show.

“There was just silence on the phone. And she said, ‘It’s not how we do things here. Nobody does that, it’s not a big deal,’” Coel recollected. “I said, ‘If it’s not a big deal, then I’d really like to have 5 % of my rights,’” Coel added, stating that she even went down to 2%, and then 1% and even as a final compromise to 0.5%.

Coel remembers that the executive said she would have to run it passed her superiors, before adding, “‘Michaela? I just want you to know I’m really proud of you. You’re doing the right thing.'”

“I remember thinking, I’ve been going down rabbit holes in my head, like people thinking I’m paranoid, I’m acting sketchy, I’m killing off all my agents,” Coel says. “And then she said those words to me, and I finally realized — I’m not crazy. This is crazy.”

Coel discovered her agents, Creative Artists Agency (CAA) were set to make an undisclosed amount from the series if she took the deal with Netflix. She reveals that the agency pushed her to take the deal prior to her finding out and their subsequent dismissal as her U.S. representation.

Taking the project to British broadcaster the BBC later in 2017, Coel found the corporation to be supportive with her maintaining creative control even with the explicit depictions of sex, sexual assault and drug use. Plus, as the broadcaster had to adhere to terms of trade, Coel had no problem with retaining the rights also. The broadcaster also brought HBO to the table as another co-producer to help subsidise a portion of the budget.

This isn’t about just “knowing your worth;” it’s about knowing the business (your business) and never settling just to secure “something.” A million dollar offer, no copyright ownership and no creative control is beyond disrespectful. Learn the business in whatever field you’re in and stay acclimated with jargon and new, current and old practices. Know your shit.

It’s like when people say “Get a lawyer” to handle negotiations and look over your paperwork. You pay a lawyer to do a job, but it does not mean you should be oblivious to aspects of law and contract jargon among other things because “that’s what they’re there to do.” You can’t say someone (sometimes lawyers included) screwed you over after you’ve signed the dotted line. They’re protecting and looking out for themselves. Commit to do the same for yourself.

#michaela coel #i may destroy you #film business #ownership #hbo #bbc #netflix #business

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iturbide · 3 years

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What do you think could have been done to improve 3H? Given the budget/time, what changes would you have done? Also, what elements do you consider KEY to a good story?

fffffff I would have done so many things differently in 3H it requires a read more but to your second question: I feel that characters are a key element of a good story. Possibly the most crucial element, to me. You can have the most epic, incredible plot in the world -- but if the characters taking part in it aren't interesting or able to engage the reader, then the story loses a huge part of its impact. It's only by caring about the people taking part that a reader can get invested in the story and its outcome; if you don't care about what happens to someone (either in a good or a bad way) then you're at best apathetic to the events, at worst bored by them.

Frankly everything else in a story -- narrative structure, conflict, etc -- is so malleable that I can't consider it key. You can easily make stories that have no classic conflict if you have characters that people care about, because just watching them interact with the world and each other can be beautifully engaging. So at least to me, the key is in the characters: whether you love them and want them to succeed or love to hate them and want to see them get their just desserts, they're the ones that do the heavy lifting in a story, so making sure they're compelling is one of the most important things to me when writing.

As for 3H though I have a lot of changes I would make. Throughout the whole game.

Academy Phase

Giving each House their own unique set of missions. I feel that part of why the Azure Moon route is considered so strong is because it's the most character driven, something that starts in the Academy Phase: everything from Lonato's rebellion to Miklan's theft of the Gautier Relic are highly personal to the Blue Lions students, with Ashe being Lonato's adoptive son and Miklan being Sylvain's estranged older brother (and someone who's well-known to Dimitri, Felix, and Ingrid on top of it). While these are both important events, for the Black Eagles and the Golden Deer there's not the same level of personal engagement: it's just a thing that's happening rather than a devastating blow to the students we love. While there are certainly missions that can and should stay the same (the raid on Seiros' tomb, Flayn's kidnapping, the Remire incident, etc.) having select missions be personalized by House to give that same level of engagement would have made for a far stronger narrative, since it enhances the player's connection with the students of their chosen House.

Just as an example: for the Black Eagles, rather than putting down Lonato's rebellion, maybe have their mission be aiding a small sect of the Church in the Empire that's being plagued by monsters or bandits. It gives us the chance to learn more of the history between the Church of Seiros and the Adrestian Empire, how close they were and how it fell apart a century before the game; Rhea might explain that she wants to improve these failing relations by having Imperial students go to aid this disconnected branch, and in private Edelgard could hint at her distrust of the institution and of Rhea herself even if she is following orders. Not only that, we could hear on returning that the Blue Lions students accompanied the Knights of Seiros in dealing with Lonato's rebellion, so we still get the fallout from those events and have a reason to choose the Blue Lions in another run.

Another example: for the Golden Deer, rather than going after Miklan and witnessing his transformation, maybe a report arrives that someone stole Failnaught and task the Alliance students with retrieving it. It lets us learn more about the situation in the Alliance, giving more details about Duke Oswald's situation, Claude's appointment as the heir to the Riegan House...and while he would never do it personally, have there be subtle implications but no hard proof that Duke Gloucester is behind the theft, just as he was the death of Claude's Uncle; on top of that, we could still get a battle against a Black Beast when Failnaught transforms the bandit, giving Claude a very personal look at how dangerous these Relics can be (something he likely wouldn't have had deep insight into, given his Almyran roots). And again, on returning to the monastery we could see the Blue Lions dealing with the fallout from Miklan.

More interaction between the House Leaders in general. There are only a handful of scenes where all three of them interact together, and I can only think of one instance where they're even in each other's company at the monastery (Claude and Dimitri in one of the early chapters). Having more of these moments where they're apparently interacting on the grounds or where we can see them together in cutscenes, giving us more insight into the leaders of the other Houses we didn't pick, would give us a lot more investment in them as people and make the eventual revelations at the end of the Academy Phase hit a lot harder.

Especially with Claude's ambition being what it is, it would have been a far better show of his character to have him hanging out with different students every month -- not just from his own House like Hilda, but from other Houses. Have him be talking with Petra in the dining hall one month, or with Annette at the reception hall another; if you sided with the Black Eagles or the Blue Lions, it would be very easy to suspect that he's up to tricks and trying to figure out individual weaknesses...but if you picked the Golden Deer, you'd likely realize very quickly that he's got no ulterior motives because you've been seeing him in action and getting Supports with him.

More Supports period. We were robbed of some fascinating interactions, like Ashe and Dorothea or Dedue and Petra, and some really strong Support chains stop before they reach their full potential (several Sylvain supports, including Marianne and Bernadetta). I want to see so many more of these and I would add in a ton if given half an opportunity.

Giving Byleth more agency. This bleeds over into the War Phase, too, but one of my biggest complaints about the game is how limited the response options are, especially when it comes to Edelgard and her frightening rhetoric as early as chapter 3. Give us more options with real varied outcomes, rather than it changing one immediate line of dialogue; give us real dialogue trees rather than minutely altered responses so that we have an opportunity to affect change. This runs the risk of drastically altering Byleth's relationship with the various House Leaders, but that potential is undeniably fascinating in and of itself.

War Phase

Azure Moon: Make Dimitri's turn more gradual. Show him grappling with Rodrigue's words more, have more scenes where he and Byleth talk and he tries to work through his understandably complicated feelings. It doesn't even have to take that much longer, honestly: every week for the next month, give us an extra cutscene and let there be a small change in how you can interact with him. For example, maybe he still doesn't attend the round table in the first week, but you do have the option of assigning him to a task around the monastery; in the second week if you explore, you have the option to invite him to a meal; in the third week he finally attends the roundtable and you're able to work on his skills again; and in the fourth week his supports finally unlock.

Azure Moon: Make Claude recruitable. Don't have him leave Failnaught and go waltzing back to Almyra, have him actually head up the Alliance in this time of need and volunteer to join forces with the Kingdom forces. You can have the option of turning him down, if you really want, at which point he might leave Lorenz in charge and go back home, but give us the option of bringing him on board along with any other former Deer that fought with him at Derdriu -- and furthermore, let us have some supports with Dedue and Dimitri to go with it. Ideally those Support chains would be available in the Academy phase and maybe you'd have the recruitment option only if Dimitr's Support level with Claude is at least a B (since you can get to A during the Academy Phase but not unlock it until the War Phase as I experienced many times). But still: Claude recruitment. Yes.

Verdant Wind: Make Dimitri recruitable. Having him die offscreen after Gronder is absolutely terrible, especially since we know for a fact that at least two people from the Alliance army saw what was either going to happen or directly happening. At the end of the battle, give us an option of going after Dimitri: if you choose not to, he still dies, but if you do you have the opportunity to save him and recruit any other former Lions with him. As abve, Supports between Claude and Dimitri would be great, and you could even keep Dimitri's Supports locked for a while and include scenes of Byleth and/or Claude and Dimitri talking and working with him until he starts turning around the way he does in Azure Moon. Dimitri's death in Verdant Wind is a travesty and it needs to be changed.

Verdant Wind: More character stuff in general. One of the things that makes Azure Moon such a strong route is that it's so deeply character-driven. Verdant Wind is much more plot-driven, and while it's still strong, it could have been more impactful if the characters were more directly affected and/or we got to see more of their individual actions. For instance: after securing Myrddin, have weekly missions where you actually go along and meet with the Great Lords and discuss with them before the final round table. Have Byleth and Claude go with Lorenz to talk to Count Gloucester and try to get his buy-in, and give us more dialogue trees where Byleth can contribute (for better or for worse) so that in the end you either get his full agreement or only grudging consideration because Lorenz intervenes. Get us engaged, show us more of the situation in the Alliance, and let us have a role in moving from this uneasy state of neutrality to full agreement that it's time to take action.

Silver Snow: A unique story in general. Basically everything in the route is a weaker copy of the events in Verdant Wind, and regardless of which came first, Verdant Wind handles the events in a way that makes more logical and narrative sense than Silver Snow does. So even if things could be changed in Verdant Wind to make it stronger and more unique, Silver Snow needs the most work and ideally should have a new plot made just for them that gives the Knights of Seiros a chance to really shine.

Silver Snow: More for Seteth to do period. Despite the fact that he's ostensibly our Lord stand-in for the route (since he's the one who meets you after the timeskip, where it's either Claude, Dimitri, or Edelgard who does in the other routes), he barely has a chance to do anything and doesn't make much of an impact on the route overall. Silver Snow could -- and ostensibly should -- give him a chance to showcase his talents and stand as a unique and engaging character, since his role in the Academy Phase was so minor; relegating him to the same general role in Silver Snow does him a great injustice.

Crimson Flower: Have Edelgard suffer consequences. This is one of my biggest complaints with the game on the whole: that Crimson Flower goes out of is way to glorify imperialism and Edelgard gets a rosy perfect ending with nothing ever going wrong according to her endcards. Logically the way she achieved her goal would have led to massive dissent, unrest, and civil conflict in the territories she conquered and subjugated; her route needs to show that, and make it clear that there are in fact consequences for her actions, both within the original Adrestian territry and without in the newly conquered ones.

Crimson Flower: Deal with the damn Agarthans. Given that she knows about them in detail the way neither of her fellow House Lords did, it's an absolute travesty that we never saw her go after them in her route: all she did was show her hand too early and cause hundreds of senseless deaths when the Agarthans fired on Arianrhod. Her route should have ended with a conflict against the Agarthan menace -- and likely a very hard one, harder even than the battle against Rhea, because she left them for too long and gave them time to bolster their defenses before she arrived. And given that she's killed Rhea, the end of that conflict would likely be a massive loss of life when Thales bombs Shambhala -- further consequences for her actions.

All Routes: Give Byleth agency. This is especially pertinent in CF where canon reduced Byleth to Edelgard's enabler: give them a chance to fight her, push back against things that either don't make sense or are only going to hurt people, argue and maybe force her to change her mind or see another viewpoint rather than continuing to barrel down a path of bloodshed and loss because she selfishly decided that war was the only way. But giving Byleth that same agency in other routes would be equally powerful: let them talk candidly with Dimitri, let them encourage Claude to trust his companions and reveal his Almyran heritage, just...let them have a chance to be their own person, with complicated relationships and the ability to speak freely.

#answered #21stcenturyhero #fire emblem: three houses #look i enjoy 3h a lot #but it's also kind of a mess when you think about it #these are just the immediate changes that come to mind #there are probably more improvements that could be made #but these are a good start #and would have made a much stronger game #at least in my opinion

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charincharge · 4 years

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Cruel Summer, Part 25

cruel summer masterlist

AN: This is the final chapter. Just an epilogue after this. Our Cruel Summer has come to an end (90k words later). I just wanted to thank everyone so much again for spending time reading, commenting, and messaging about this story. When I first started writing it in April, I had no idea I would come to get to know so many of you, and it’s been the most rewarding thing to be part of a fandom again. Taylor Swift hearts to all of you. xo.

Aelin doesn’t think she’s ever been this hung over, or this confused. The ghost of Rowan’s lips caresses her forehead as she lies down on the couch, sprawled in front of the television to watch some obstacle course challenge show that Dorian enjoys heckling.

After Rowan fled her house – yes, fled – she immediately went in search of her parents to find out what they’d been meeting with him about, but she received absolutely nothing in return.

“If Rowan wants to discuss it with you, I’m sure he will,” Rhoe had said with a traitorous, all too-knowing smirk.

Aelin wants to throttle him. She loves her dad, but she’s far too twisted up in her own emotions to be sated by his logical non-answer. Meanwhile, her mother isn’t even on the premises to be questioned. Hiding away in meetings, like a coward. She wants to know so badly.

She contemplates texting Rowan to ask. After all, he clearly opened up their channel of communications again with that picture of the two of them… right? But she can’t help but think her dad is right. If Rowan wanted to tell her what they talked about he would. The question is, what the hell could her parents want to talk to Rowan alone about? What kind of topic required a one-on-one meeting with one of their employees?

Aelin tries to relax, even nap for a bit, but anxiety plagues her brain. The not knowing is keeping her stomach in knots. So, when Dorian departs for the afternoon with a reassuring arm squeeze, Aelin retreats to her safe spot – the music room.

The late afternoon sun splays its warm rays across the piano, tendrils of sunlight curling around her and slowly helping dissipate her hangover. With a deep breath, Aelin spreads her fingers and takes off. She warms up with scales, trailing up and down the keys with her expert touch. She segues into one of her favorite pieces – Moonlight Sonata by Beethoven. The pulsing methodical rhythm of the left hand keeps her centered as the dark somber tones float through the room.

The piece is sad, and it pierces her to the core. She lets her emotions flood through her hands as she tries to play out her complicated feelings for Rowan.

As she reaches the third movement, she lets her anxiety out into the frantic, technical workout for her fingers. The frenetic pace matches her rapid heartbeat, the worry and stress and heartbreak of the last few days taking over. She wants to cry. She wants to scream. She wants to let everything out. She gives into the heartache she feels, the stress from hiding, the shame of letting him go, the loneliness of being without him. It all comes pouring out in droves. She’s overwhelmed with her feelings. She knew she was sad, and to let it all out like this makes her feel like she’s bleeding out. She lets the music speak for her. And it speaks loudly.

As the final notes ring out, applause comes from behind her, and she gasps, startled by the intrusion.

“Sorry,” Rhoe apologizes, squeezing Aelin’s shoulders gently. “You were in the zone, huh?” he asks, and Aelin shrugs, still breathing hard from the musical marathon she just ran.

“Yeah,” she breathes heavily. “That was intense.”

“Maybe something lighter next?” Rhoe suggests, and Aelin smiles as her fingers take off at lightning speed for her favorite Mozart concerto. The complex finger work distracts her from her feelings momentarily as she performs for her dad.

When she turns around again, she’s surprised to see her dad has been joined by the rest of her family – her mom, Aedion, Lysandra, Evie and Gavin clap thunderously, appreciating her performance. She starts to stand to see if she can finally question her mom, but she’s interrupted as Gavin sprints toward the music bench, climbing next to her in the clumsy way only a five-year-old can.

“I wanna learn!” he says, looking up at her with his widest blue green eyes.

“You do?” she says, chuckling softly. He nods excitedly, and she smiles at her nephew’s enthusiasm.

Aelin’s family quickly disperses, her mom shouting out that dinner will be ready in an hour, but Aelin is entranced by her nephew’s gleeful smile.

“Teach me!” he demands happily.

“I think that piece might be a little too hard,” she explains, while placing his little fingers on the proper keys. “But, I think I know the perfect one…”

She begins showing him the middle C note and moves his thumb in a rhythmic pattern from there. She shows him the notes an octave higher, slowly performing the easy back and forth of the base.

“Like this?” he asks, starting to move his hands in time with hers.

“Just like that,” she says. He fumbles the keys a few times, and Aelin places her fingers over his to help, but soon enough he manages the bass line easily. Aelin can’t help but smile, her heart swelling with pride at how pleased Gavin looks with himself.

“Auntie Ae, look, I’m doing it!” he squeals, and she nods animatedly.

“Are you ready to turn it into a duet?” she asks, and Gavin crinkles his brow, suddenly looking very serious and so much like Aedion it takes Aelin out for a second.

“What’s a duet?” he asks thoughtfully, and Aelin tries her hardest to explain it in terms a five-year-old will understand.

“Well, you’ll keep playing your part that I just taught you,” she says, “And I’ll add a new part up here,” she says, wiggling her fingers over the higher keys. “And when you put it together, it makes the whole song.”

Gavin’s eyes get impossibly wide as she explains, until he’s practically vibrating on the bench next to her.

“You want to try?” she asks, and he shouts his enthusiasm loudly.

She lets Gavin start his part and play it two times through before coming in herself. She can’t help but sing along as she plays the jovial melody.

Heart and soul, I fell in love with you

Heart and soul, the way a fool would do, madly

Because you held me tight

And stole a kiss in the night

“There are WORDS?!” Gavin asks, incredulous, pausing his baseline.

Aelin nods and laughs, her heart lightening immensely as they start the second verse. The dark cloud of heartbreak that hung over her previous songs is notably gone, replaced with a much lighter one as she launches into the second verse.

Heart and soul, I begged to be adored

Lost control, and tumbled overboard, gladly

That magic night we kissed

There in the moon mist

Aelin’s cheeks flush as she helps Gavin pick up the pace of his playing. She looks down at her nephew with adoration. She suddenly feels so happy, she feels like she might float away, filled with the intoxicating glee. Her heart soars as she launches into the final verse.

But now I see, what one embrace can do

Look at me, it’s got me loving you madly

That little kiss you stole

Held all my heart and soul

Aelin is so caught up in her playing that she doesn’t even notice Aedion sit down on her other side and play the melody with her one last time, an octave above her. Aelin laughs loudly as Gavin’s mouth drops again.

“Daddy, you know this song?”

Aedion chuckles softly as they wrap up the song with a flourish.

“I remember when Nana Ashryver taught us how to first play Heart and Soul,” Aedion says. His shoulder leans gently int his sister’s. “You were even younger than Gavin.”

Aelin remembers it well. It was when she decided the music room was her favorite room.

“Look at you now,” Aedion says.

“Again, again!” Gavin chants from his spot on the bench, and Aelin and Aedion appease him, playing the song over and over until they’re all hoarse from singing too loud. Aelin is so happy she feels like her face hurts from smiling so much.

As they replay the song, Aelin trips up on the lyrics. Her voice cracks slightly as it hits her in a sudden flash. This feeling of happiness, the ease she feels at the piano, singing her heart out – it’s exactly how she feels when she’s with Rowan.

She never felt this way with Chaol. Never felt her heart pound against her ribs until they threatened to puncture her chest. Never missed him as soon as he was out of her sight. Never thought she would fall apart if she never saw him again. Never felt like she belonged with someone so fully.

When she and Chaol broke up, Aelin had forced herself to wallow – to play the part of the sad girl, but she realizes now that she’d never really felt that way. Each break up had been a relief, a small reprieve to the uncomfortable life she’d tried to shove herself into. It was just another thing she had lied to herself about.

“Oh my god,” Aelin laughs to herself as they wrap up their final run through of the song. She can’t believe how stupid she’s been. Truly, she’s an idiot.

An idiot who’s in love.

She wants to run and tell Rowan right now.

She loves him.

“Wash up for dinner, please!” Evalin shouts from the kitchen, interrupting her thought process, and Gavin sprints away, not bothering to give Aelin or Aedion another look.

“I see how it is,” Aelin laughs as she puts the piano lid down, covering the keys. Aedion gives her a pointed look. “What?” she asks, wiping at her face, in case she has a piece of long forgotten burrito attached to her cheek that no one told her about.

“We were summoned for cheer up Aelin duty, and we had to do practically nothing. Look at you,” he says. “You’re glowing. You’re not pregnant, are you?” he asks, suddenly concerned, and Aelin groans and shoves him away.

“You were summoned?” She can’t imagine her family knows why she’s been in a mood for the last two days. “By who?”

“Dad,” Aedion finally admits. “Want to tell me what’s going on?” He wraps his arm around her shoulders, and Aelin leans into her brother’s warm side.

“I broke up with Rowan.”

“Huh.”

Aelin extracts herself from under Aedion’s arm and pokes him. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing.” Aedion pauses. Aelin stares, but Aedion gives nothing up. “Nothing!” he insists. “I liked him.”

“You did?” Aelin asks, perplexed. That’s not how their last conversation about Rowan went. “What about that whole fucking the gardener bit?”

Aedion pinches his nose and looks regretful. “I slept alone for a whole week for that comment, and I knew as soon as it was out of my mouth that it was wrong,” Aedion confesses. “He makes you happy.”

“Yeah, he does,” Aelin laughs sadly.

“But, you’re…. okay?” Aedion asks, and Aelin nods.

“Better than okay.”

Aedion shrugs. “Well, okay, then.”

At dinner, Gavin spends the entire time telling the family about his new penchant for piano, and Aelin tells him she has a few more pieces he can learn if he wants.

“We’d pay you for lessons,” Lysandra adds, and Aelin pauses mid-bite.

“You would?”

Lysandra nods. “Of course. We tried to get a teacher for Evie, but she was ‘too mean,’” Lysandra says in air quotes.

Evie pouts. “She was! She stretched my hands too far and cut my nails down.”

“I would never,” Aelin says seriously, winking at her niece.

“Seriously,” Lysandra follows up. “Think about it. We paid the last girl $100 an hour.” She looks at Gavin. “Would you like that, Gav? To learn piano with Auntie Ae?”

Gavin’s whole face lights up, and he even stops shoving mozzarella into his mouth to cheer loudly. “Yeah!”

Aelin smiles again at her nephew. And then looks around the table. At her family. Filled with CEOs. A teacher is a far cry from that. Not exactly a high-powered job, but she can’t help but think how much she enjoyed playing with Gavin. She thinks she might really love it. Plus, she could do it anywhere. Like. In Terrasen. Where Rowan lives. She clears her throat and look at her mom.

“I think I might want to do that. To teach music.”

She pauses nervously as a small v forms between Evalin’s eyebrows. “Really?”

Aelin nods.

“I mean, I know it’s not the most glamorous job…” she trails off, watching her parents exchange silent glances. “But, I could start with private lessons while I work toward a teaching degree, and, I think I’d really love it.”

Evalin’s frown turns into a blinding smile as she nods at her daughter. “I think that’s a great idea.”

“You do?” Aelin asks, positively shocked at her mother’s warm reception. “Even though it’s not being on a charity board or working with you?”

“Why do you sound so surprised?” Evalin replies, slightly perturbed, but Aelin can’t help herself. Her mother has been trying to marry her off to the highest bidder since she was eighteen. “Do you think I’m that much of a snob?”

Aelin snorts, ignoring the way her mother angrily spears the tomato on her plate and continues.

“It might not be glamorous,” Evalin continues, “But teaching is one of the most noble professions. You know I’ve always supported funding arts education.”

Aelin pauses, wondering if her mom has more to add, but she doesn’t. The table switches topics to their schedule for the remaining three days before they leave. Aelin is blown away. She must be gaping, because Aedion squeezes her hand under the table comfortingly.

After dinner, Gavin immediately pulls Aelin back into the music room, wanting to start his lessons as soon as possible. Aelin is helpless against her nephew and plays with him until well after his bedtime. With every replay of Heart and Soul, Aelin feels her heart grow bigger, swelling with the feeling that went unidentified in her stomach for so many weeks.

By the time everyone leaves the house, Aelin feels like she’s going to explode, needing to talk to Rowan. To just blurt it out and tell him. But she knows that’s not exactly the right thing to put into a text. Instead, she gathers her strength and texts him a different question.

I know you asked for space, but can we talk tomorrow?

She types it quickly and then shuts her eyes quickly, as if she doesn’t look then it’ll prevent it from hurting when he doesn’t text back.

Her phone vibrates in her lap, and she garners the courage to crack an eye open and peek at his reply.

You really wanna know what your parents talked to me about, huh?

Aelin bites her lip, stopping the massive grin that threatens to take over her face. Her cheeks warm with a blush, realizing she’s texting with the man she loves.

I mean, yes, obviously. But this isn’t about that. I swear.

She holds her breath and waits again.

I’m busy during lunch, but I can stop by after work?

Aelin frowns. It’s not exactly the reply she wanted. And why would he be busy during lunch? Was he having lunch with someone else? Aelin’s heart pounds nervously. No, she needs to talk to him sooner than that. She thinks a full twenty-four hours of waiting might kill her.

But Aelin takes a deep breath, realizing that Rowan has put up with a lot more waiting for her than twenty-four hours. The least she can do is wait until he gets off work.

We’ll be at the park tomorrow. Find me when you finish your shift?

Rowan sends back two thumbs up emojis, and Aelin clutches the phone against her pounding chest.

Tomorrow she’s going to tell Rowan she loves him.

She falls asleep, comforted by that thought.

But when Aelin wakes up, she can’t help but groan. Rain splatters against her window, a soft grey overcast dampening her spirits as well as the ground outside.

The park still runs in the rain, but it’s absolutely no fun, since they close down any ride that could potentially be affected by the weather. Essentially, the only ride that’s open is the log flume, and Aelin knows her family won’t want to go to the park just for that.

She groans internally.

Of course this would happen.

Aelin paces around the kitchen with her coffee, hoping against all hopes that the rain will dissipate if she wills it to. But, instead of fading, the clouds darken even further, giving way to even heavier torrents.

She feels like a trapped animal.

Nothing distracts her – not playing the piano, not getting ready or putting on a full face of makeup. She’s so wound up, even a delicious lunch of her favorite potato salad and grilled chicken doesn’t help soothe her nerves.

By mid-afternoon, Aelin’s started counting down hours until Rowan’s work ends. Only four more hours. She grumbles, staring at the clock, hoping she can somehow speed up time.

“Aelin, sit down, you’re doing that anxious pacing again,” her dad chastises from behind his newspaper.

Aelin tries to pause, but she finds herself flicking her foot in tendus again, unable to still completely.

Her dad smiles softly. “Want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” Evalin asks, emerging from her office to refill her mug of coffee.

“Why Aelin looks so nervous today,” Rhoe laughs, and Evalin’s eyes widen in excitement.

“Oh, did Rowan tell you?” she begins, but Rhoe’s pointed stare cuts her off.

“Tell me what?” Aelin explodes, and Rhoe shakes his head and laughs softly again, hiding his face behind the paper. Evalin frowns again.

“Well, if he hasn’t told you, what are you so keyed up about?” Evalin sighs, as if she’s exasperated with her daughter. Aelin scoffs. No one is more exasperated with anyone at this moment than she is with her mother. Her secret keeping mother!

“I’m leaving!” Aelin growls, finally snapping. She doesn’t care that it’s raining out. She needs to see Rowan right now.

“Where are you going?” Evalin shouts out after her, but Aelin is already halfway out the door. “Aelin, take a jacket! You’re going to get soaked!”

She doesn’t pause to realize her mother’s parting comment was more than right as she stumbles along the wet sand. Rain soaks through her t-shirt and pelts down on her head, wetting her hair. By the time she makes it to Playland, she’s sure she looks like some kind of drowned animal. Her sneakers squeak loudly with each step, her toes filled with water, and she doesn’t even want to imagine what her face of makeup looks like.

But she doesn’t have time to think anything through. She’s a woman on a mission.

“Aelin!” a surprised voice says, definitely shocked by her rain-drenched appearance.

In a stroke of luck, Lorcan is seated at the admissions booth. “Rowan?” she pants, hoping the rest of her question is understood.

Lorcan frowns. “Not sure.”

“What do you mean not sure? Aren’t you in control of his schedule?” Aelin knows it would be wrong, but she feels like smacking Lorcan.

She sees him hide a tiny smile as he shrugs. “He’s pulling tarps off the rides,” Lorcan explains, pointing to the sun peeking through the clouds, the rain finally coming to a stop. “He could be anywhere.”

“Useless!” Aelin shouts, agitated, and Lorcan snorts loudly as he slaps a wristband onto her hand.

“Enjoy your search,” he snickers, and Aelin huffs as she stalks across the slick grass and puddles of mud to find Rowan.

Her shoes squelch with the newly acquired mud, and she struggles not to slip as she walks at a brisk pace through the park. For the first time in her life, Aelin regrets how large the park grounds are. She circles the entire place, with no Rowan in sight. On her second loop, she goes further into the park and walks by the bumper cars and the carousel, which have no tarps on them, and deduces that she must at least be in the right direction.

Through the light drizzle of rain, the sun finally starts to shine, and Aelin smiles as she watches a rainbow take shape over the park. Her eyes follow the colorful beams, watching as they curve down, all the way to the middle of the fair grounds. She holds her breath as she spots a bright silver blonde head of hair just beyond the rainbow. Her own personal pot of gold.

A similarly rain-soaked Rowan rolls up the sides of the eating tent and affixes them to the top methodically. Aelin barely has time to process his appearance before she picks up her pace and heads toward him, a smile stretched across her lips.

“Rowan!” she shouts, breaking into a jog.

Confused, Rowan glances over his shoulder, his eyes widening at the approaching girl. She knows she must look ridiculous, water-logged, eyes wild and beaming, but she can’t stop.

As she tries to increase the speed of her jog, her foot catches on a slick patch of grass, and Aelin shrieks loudly as she attempts to stop her skidding, but it’s no use. Aelin’s feet slide out from beneath her, and she closes her eyes tightly as she falls to the muddy ground with an unceremonious thud.

She groans, feeling the wetness soak through her shorts and underwear. She opens her eyes and realizes she’s skidded directly into a watery pool of mud.

“Aelin!” Rowan shouts, concerned. She lifts her head, laughing, as he approaches her with worry. “Are you okay?” he asks. His hands stretch out, and she takes them in hers, helping hoist herself off the ground. She shakes her head, her wet hair still stringy around her shoulders. This was not exactly the reunion she’d anticipated for them.

“I’m fine,” she laughs, trying to brush the clumps of mud from her ass and thighs. She crosses her arms over her chest self-consciously. She can’t believe this is how this is happening. But she can’t turn back. She’s here. And she’s no longer being a liar or a coward.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, wiping droplets of rain from his own hair, and Aelin takes a deep breath and centers herself.

“I told you I’d be at the park,” she says, and she watches as Rowan’s eyes crinkle in confusion.

“In the rain?” He pauses, looking her over. She doesn’t even want to think about what she looks like. She knows it’s a mess. “I just assumed—”

“I love you,” she blurts out, cutting him off.

It feels so good to say it, she barely notices Rowan’s soft lips parting in surprise. She’s not ready for him to reply, so she just keeps talking.

“I’m an idiot. And a liar. Of course I love you, Rowan.”

She can feel tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. She knew she’d be emotional, but – gods, this is something else. She feels like she’s been possessed by some vulnerable alien. But that doesn’t stop her. She will get this out, even if it kills her.

“I knew it as soon as you kissed me that this wasn’t just for the summer. This is forever,” she barrels on as she points between the two of them. “And I know we have a lot of stuff to figure out, because we never talked about any of the logistics of anything, and I know that’s completely my fault because I was just… really at good at pretending like I didn’t have to,” she rambles, getting faster and faster as she logics her way into convincing Rowan to accept the possibility of a real relationship. “But I don’t want to leave. I’m going to teach piano, and I can do that anywhere. And I want to stay in Terrasen. With you.”

Aelin pauses, breathing hard. Her arms cross over her chest tighter, squeezing herself and acting as a defense shield against the thick silence between her and Rowan.

She looks at Rowan’s face. His eyes are still crinkled in confusion, and his lashes flutter as he blinks rapidly. His pursed lips haven’t moved since they first parted, and she can see the tension in his neck as he strains to breathe.

She can feel her heartbeat angrily thumping against her crossed arms, and she takes another deep breath.

“I really wish you’d say something,” she says quietly. “Anything.”

Rowan rubs at his face, covering his mouth, and she notices how tired he looks. “Well, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to move to Terrasen,” he says finally, and Aelin feels like a dagger has pierced her straight through the chest.

Oh Gods, she’s too late.

So this is what genuine heartbreak feels like. Aelin is so busy feeling wounded, she almost doesn’t hear the rest of Rowan’s sentence.

“…because I’m going to be living in Adarlan.”

Aelin looks up and is shocked to see Rowan’s green eyes twinkling as he reveals his smile from behind his hand.

“Wait, what?”

Aelin is so confused. Her head is spinning with all kinds of thoughts.

“I didn’t want to say anything to you until it was official,” Rowan says. “But, I’m going to be working for the Ashryver Corporation as an app developer. I interviewed at lunch, and they called about an hour ago to give me my official offer.”

The pieces start to click into place. “That’s what my mom wanted to talk to you about?”

He nods, and she watches as his ears turn pink as he stares her down.

“So, I shouldn’t move to Terrasen,” Aelin says slowly, and Rowan’s smile widens as he shakes his head. “Because you’ll be in Adarlan.” She takes another long breath. “Where I live.” He takes a step forward, and her breath hitches.

“Yes.”

“Rowan, they’re making your app?” she asks, and he nods but doesn’t smile. “That’s so amazing, you should be so proud of—"

“Say it again,” he whispers, cutting her off, and she watches his eyes darken. She wonders what he wants to hear for a second, thoughts bouncing around her brain as she’s assaulted by his scent as he hovers over her.

“Hm?” She can’t think straight as she tilts her head up towards his, his lips dangerously close to hers now.

“Say it again,” he repeats and wraps his arms around her waist, sliding his hands into the mud-caked back pockets of her shorts.

Oh.

Aelin grins and whispers back.

“I love you.”

His lips are on hers before she can finish her sentence, parted lips sliding onto her damp face as he pulls her closer. She snakes her arms around his neck and smiles against his mouth. Their kiss deepens, unencumbered by stress or worry for the first time all summer, and Aelin can’t stop herself from lifting herself up. Her legs spring off the squishy ground, and she wraps her legs around his waist, tugging him closer and closer, until she can feel his heart pounding against hers.

His lips are soft but demanding against hers, and they feel like coming home. She kisses him harder, his mouth pliable under hers.

Aelin doesn’t think she’s ever felt this happy ever.

As Rowan’s tongue swipes against hers, she clutches at him tighter. He leans her back, and she’s so consumed in the feeling of him against her that she barely notices that he’s placed her down on the closest table inside the eating tent. His hands drag upward and knot themselves into her wet hair, and she parts her lips further, breathing him in. She wants to live in this moment forever.

All too soon, Rowan finally pulls back. He pulls his wet hands from her hair and slides them to her cheeks. They’re cold against her flushed cheeks, warmed from his thorough kisses, and she can’t help but smile widely at him. His face reflects the same expression back at her. Two grinning idiots.

As if he can’t bear to apart from her for too long, Rowan leans in again, pecking a flurry of kisses all over her face – her cheeks and forehead and eyes, and finally one last lingering kiss on her lips.

“I love you,” Aelin says again. She doesn’t know if she’ll be able to stop saying it.

“I love you, too,” Rowan says, his voice hoarse and breathy.

Rowan ducks his head, as if to kiss her again, but they’re interrupted by a loud whistle. They look over their shoulders, and see a frowning Lorcan, but there’s no real ire in his expression.

“If you two are done making out on my table, Rowan, can you head to the ticket booth to do your job?” Lorcan rests his hands on his hips, trying his very hardest to look annoyed, but Aelin can see the barest of smiles threatening to break through.

“Yes sir,” Rowan answers with a nod. He looks at Aelin as she hops off the table and links her arm with his, leaning into his side. He immediately wraps his arm around her shoulders, neither of them anxious to let the other go. “What are you going to do with the rest of your afternoon?” he asks.

“Anxious to get rid of me that soon?” she snorts.

Rowan looks shocked. “No! Of course not, I just meant—”

Aelin laughs and kisses his hand, which is tangled with hers. “I know, I’m kidding.” She pauses. “I thought I could hang out with you until your shift is done?” she asks nervously. “And then, we can go back to my house and tell my parents about us.”

Rowan’s smile nearly blinds her. “Yeah?” He squeezes her hand.

“Yeah,” she smiles back.

“And then I should shower. Because I’m covered in mud,” Aelin snorts, and Rowan laughs loudly and tugs her closer.

“I love you, even covered in mud,” he says.

“Yeah?” she asks, looking up at him, eyes wide in wonder. How could she have kept herself from feeling this all summer?

“Oh yeah,” he laughs, brushing a clump of mud from her shorts.

Because it’s a slow park day, Rowan is blessed to be the only one taking tickets, which means that Aelin can sit next to him, as close as she wants. His thumb rubs up and down the back of her soft skin, and Aelin only holds his hand tighter as they make their way to the booth. She’s not letting go of him any time soon.

Rowan pauses a few feet away from admissions, and his hand becomes a vice grip around hers.

“What?” Aelin leans into his side further, her chin resting against his arm.

“Uh…” he starts, sounding nervous, his eyes flicking from Aelin out to the parking lot.

“Oh!” Aelin is shocked to see her entire family, walking toward them.

Rowan starts to remove his hand from hers, but Aelin shakes her head and holds it tighter.

“Are you sure?” Rowan asks, his eyes locked on Aedion for some reason. “I wasn’t anticipating telling your brother about us until we were married and I was a more permanent fixture.”

Aelin’s mouth drops. “Aedion likes you.”

Rowan shakes his head. “That’s not what I’ve heard.”

“What have you heard?” Aelin asks, curious.

Rowan groans. “I may have overheard a conversation where he… wasn’t so enthused about our relationship.”

Aelin freezes and stares at him. “You came that night. To pick me up from Aedion’s.”

Rowan nods, grimacing slightly as he tracks Aelin’s approaching family, nearly to the entrance now.

“And you left…”

Rowan laughs, but it sounds pained. “And I’m now remembering all the reasons we didn’t tell your parents in the first place.” He pauses. “Maybe we should keep this a secret for a little longer.”

Aelin stops them, pulling him so he’s facing her and looking away from her family. “Rowan,” she begins emphatically. “What Aedion said was horrible, and if I’d known that you heard it, I would have told you a lot sooner that he didn’t mean it. But even if he did, it doesn’t matter. Because I want to be with you. Because you’re so much better than all of them. You’ve worked so hard for everything you have, and you’re so incredibly talented and kind and real. And I love you.”

Rowan looks like he wants to protest, but he begrudgingly releases a small, “Fine.”

Aelin is so taken with his acceptance that she can’t resist wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him again. He melts into her, arms locked around each other in a tight embrace, until they hear a throat clearing beside them.

“Well, well, well… what do we have here?” Aedion’s low voice jokes, and despite Rowan stiffening beneath her, Aelin presses one more kiss to his lips as she flicks off her brother. Aedion cackles loudly.

“Aelin!” her mother cries out. She sounds so horrified and shocked, that Aelin can’t help but finally pull away to explain herself. “You’re covered in mud!” her mother chastises, and Aelin cannot believe that her mom just walked up to her kissing Rowan, and that is what she has to say.

“I fell?” Aelin says by way of explanation. Evalin shakes her head disapprovingly, and Aelin realizes that there are some things her mom will always care about – like her appearance, and being polite, and manners. But, apparently, Aelin is free to live her life the way she wants to, and somehow that realization is worth everything.

“Rowan,” Evalin says with a smile, ignoring the flaming blush crawling up his cheeks and ears. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

Rowan smiles bashfully and tucks his chin into his chest. “Yes, ma’am.”

Rhoe leans in conspiratorially. “Make sure you counter offer their salary. They’ll lowball you every time.”

Evalin looks positively offended at her husband’s comment. “We would never! We value all our employees and pay them very fairly,” she says, and Rhoe snickers again, wrapping his arms around his wife.

Aelin can’t believe that no one has commented on her tongue being shoved down Rowan’s throat mere minutes ago. And she’s even more surprised when Evalin tells Rowan he should come over for a celebratory dinner after work.

“I’d love to,” he accepts with a shy smile, and Aelin can’t resist kissing him again. This time on his shoulder.

Surprisingly, it’s Gavin who is the first to speak up.

“Auntie Ae, did you just kiss Rowan?” His little face crinkles in confusion. He has a moment of understanding, and his eyes widen with excitement. “Is Rowan going to be my Uncle?”

She’s not sure how to answer, and she can feel her cheeks warming under her family’s scrutiny, smiles hidden into each other’s shoulders as Aelin struggles with how to answer her nephew.

“Probably,” Rowan says with a shrug as Aelin answers, “Yes.”

“Probably?” Aelin gapes at him as Rowan gapes right back, repeating her words at her. “YES?!”

Aedion laughs loudly as he scoops Gavin into his arms. “Do you think they’ve always been this dysfunctional?” He looks at the couple stammering and blushing in front of him and then back to the small child in his arms. Gavin, of course, doesn’t know what his father means, but nods seriously regardless. “Let’s go get some cotton candy.”

Gavin shouts his affirmations, sprinting into the park, the rest of the family following close behind. No one comments when Aelin takes a seat next to Rowan in the ticket booth, but Rhoe winks at his daughter.

Aelin is grateful for the slow trickle of patrons, leaning over to kiss Rowan whenever she feels like it.

By the time Rowan’s shift ends, she can feel her lips starting to chap with how often they’ve been attached to his, but she can’t bring herself to care at all.

Aelin is reluctant to leave Rowan’s side when they get back to her house, but she knows she really does need to shower. She still has dried patches of mud on her legs, and her hair is a tangled stringy mess.

She showers as quickly as she can, and when she returns downstairs she’s shocked to see Rowan laughing with her entire family, as if he’s fit there the whole time. She doesn’t know what she was ever worried about. Everything seems so stupid now, looking back. How much pain she caused them both for absolutely nothing. Because of her own stupid insecurities. Because of her need for her parents’ approval. She’s so incredibly grateful Rowan is as forgiving as he is. She’s not sure she would have been as kind to herself.

Her mood lifts completely as Rowan smiles brightly when he spots her, freshly showered and in clean clothes.

“So, how long has this been going on?” Evalin finally asks, of course, just as Aelin takes a sip of her wine. Aelin splutters, coughing wildly as she chokes on the alcohol, and she glares at Rowan, who smirks beside her, completely unaffected as he rubs her back.

“When did I catch you climbing out of Aelin’s window again?” Lysandra asks Rowan nonchalantly, and then it’s Rowan’s turn to choke. “Must have been back in June…”

“Oh Gods,” Rowan begins to apologize to Aelin’s parents, who are resisting laughing themselves.

“I saw him only about two weeks of being here, I think,” Rhoe finally pipes up. “He didn’t even see me on the patio.”

Rowan’s face is beet red as he tries to hide it in Aelin’s shoulder, and she can feel herself reddening, too. This is a nightmare. But the best kind.

She leans into Rowan reassuringly and smiles when she feels his lips brush across the top of her head.

After dinner, Rowan politely thanks her parents, and asks Aelin if she wants to go out to the beach to stargaze. Aelin nods enthusiastically, taking his hand and letting him drag her out to the edge of the sand. She pulls the oversized pool chaise and leans it all the way back, motioning for Rowan to sit.

He does, and she climbs onto his lap, relishing the way his arms immediately circle her and pull her close. Because that’s something he can do now, even in sight of her parents. She leans her head against his chest and sighs happily.

“I’m sorry,” Aelin whispers.

“For what?” he asks, and Aelin tilts her head up, brushing her lips against his stubble as she continues.

“Everything.” She laughs. “If you’d told me I was too late, I would have accepted it, you know. I put you through hell this summer.”

Rowan laughs softly and pulls her closer. “If this is hell, I think I’m doing okay.” He pauses and looks at the sky. “I don’t’ know if you can understand this, but… I’ve never quite felt like I was good enough. The first time I stepped into this house, I’ve never been more terrified of anything before. The level of inadequacy…” He laughs at himself. “I was so afraid I was going to fuck this whole thing up. My job. My life, pretty much.” He pauses again, thinking hard. Aelin wants to interrupt, but she lets him finish. It’s so rare that Rowan opens up about anything. And she wants to hear every single word of his inner most thoughts. “But, you changed that. Tonight, I sat with your parents and I honestly thought we’d be talking about my job, but all we talked about was you. They wanted to know why we kept it a secret. Because they couldn’t fathom us thinking they wouldn’t approve of me. And I’ve never felt like I belonged more. I belong with you.” She relishes in his words and nods. She feels the exact same way. And she tells him as much.

They sit together, staring at the sky for a while, kissing occasionally, happy to just be, until Rowan’s phone starts buzzing in his pocket.

“Sorry,” he apologizes as he pulls it out. He snorts and shows Aelin the text from Manon.

U ALIVE?!

He leans in and kisses Aelin. She’s sure it’s supposed to be a quick kiss, but she can’t resist deepening it. She smiles against his lips as she sees the camera flash go off behind her closed lids.

He sends the picture of them smiling into each other’s mouths as a text reply to Manon, who immediately replies with a vomit emoji.

GROSS.

“You do belong,” Aelin says, and Rowan smiles softly again. She’ll tell him again and again if that’s what it takes.

“So, Uncle Rowan, huh?” he teases her, chuckling as he slides his phone back into his shorts, and Aelin shoots him an uncomfortable glance.

“Yes,” she replies, and she can’t help but smile as Rowan leans in and kisses her again.

If this is the beginning of forever, she’ll take it.

THE END

~*~*~*~

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#rowaelin #aelin x rowan #cruel summer au #amusement park au #charincharge writes #throne of glass #tog fanfic

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airgetlamhh · 4 years

Text

Thoughts on Lostbelt 2

Longpost ahead.

So.

Lostbelt 2. Finally played it after so long, and this will contain spoilers.

To make sure everyone knows what they’re getting into, I’ll give the thesis statement right here: Lostbelt 2 is bad.

The entire time I played through the story, I kept waiting for it to pick up. I kept waiting for it to shrug off the poor pacing, the deus ex machinas, the random things just happening for the convenience of the plot. I kept waiting for it to shrug off the poor characterization, the constant telling instead of showing, the moral myopia. It never did.

From nearly the very start to finish, Lostbelt 2 is bad.

We start off fairly fine! A desperate ploy to sneak through the Lostbelt to meet up with the allies we’ve learned about, the Wandering Sea, interrupted by a Lostbelt Servant attacking us with the intent of stealing the Paper Moon that allows us to perform Zero Sails. All of that is a decent setup!

And then we’re told how strong this Saber is. How incredible they are. How their swordplay surpasses anything else they’ve ever seen, how they desperately wish that Musashi was there, how no no, he didn’t use his sword, he only parried! Things that Sherlock Holmes observes, not Mashu, not the one who’s actually been fighting for two years now, so Mashu seems borderline useless. Holmes figures out it’s Sigurd because...he uses a sword in a Scandinavian Lostbelt, and he figured out that Holmes used magic because Holmes fire magic lasers at him. From this, Holmes is able to pinpoint Sigurd’s identity, and that’s just the setup for the rest of the chapter, really.

To be specific, what I mean is that we will constantly be told how incredible someone is with very little evidence, and the plot will bend and warp to make certain things happen.

The scene does exactly one good thing, which is the foreshadowing of Surtr. Coming into it knowing that aspect allowed me to appreciate little bits like Surtr talking about Heroic Spirits like he wasn’t one, and Surtr not being able to kill Mashu because Sigurd resisted it. But that’s about all that was good in the scene, and all it really does is set up a consistent thing of Surtr being one of the only good parts - until he isn’t, of course.

I’m going to shift here from specifics to characters, because otherwise I’d be rehashing the entire story and I don’t have the time or effort required for that. That being said, it is difficult to decide where to start, so I’ll go right to the very building blocks of the story, the themes.

Lostbelt 2 is, very obviously, attempting to have a theme of different kinds of love throughout the story. Part of this is because it’s very much set up like an otome game that the author Hikaru Sakurai would write, with Ophelia in the center, but it’s a more general theme too, with Skadi and the others all building up towards it. Now, love is an absolutely wonderful thing to build your themes around, exploring and examining it can be great for stories. Beasts themselves do that, examining different varieties of genuine, but toxic love that allow them to be well-meaning monsters.

The problem is that Lostbelt 2 does not engage with these themes on anything but a surface level. Skadi represents maternal love, so she constantly talks about how everyone is her children and how she’s their mother. No examination of the desire to see her children grow, the pain she feels when they fight, the struggle of forcing herself to cling so tightly knowing that it’s suffocating them and going to kill them before they reach 26.

Napoleon represents passionate love, so he flirts with every woman he sees. No examination of why he’s so passionate or what drives him to burn so brightly, beyond a token mention that for some reason when he’s summoned he’s driven to seek out a lover, another aspect of things happening to serve the plot.

Sigurd and Brynhildr represent true, romantic love, so they act mushy the entire chapter from the moment the real Sigurd appears. Now, don’t get me wrong, I liked their scenes a lot and I’m happy that they chose that portrayal instead of the one I was afraid of where it was yandere jokes day in day out. But there’s no engagement with the fundamentals of their love, nothing that tests it, even the existing complications with Brynhildr’s tragic summoning are swept away with a single line of “I can resist them better now maybe because my saint graph is broken”, so ultimately there’s no conflict whatsoever. And sure, that’s nice, but it’s not very good if you’re trying to build your story around a theme of love.

Next, Surtr, who represents obsessive, dangerous love. I honestly actually think Surtr’s done well, even if the love he happens to represent is the least positive one. Surtr is capable of only one thing, destruction, and when he fell for Ophelia in that moment where she saw him and he saw her, he decided that if he ever had the chance, he would repay her the only way he knew how: allowing her to watch as he destroyed everything. When he’s summoned, he acts basically like the possessive one in an otome game, constantly talking about how Ophelia is his woman, getting angry when Napoleon flirts with her, spending most of his time pushing things between them as far as they can go etc. etc. I’m not particularly a fan of how his desire to repay Ophelia battling against his singular purpose transformed him into a typical possessive bastard boyfriend, but it’s at least engaged with on a deeper level.

Finally, Ophelia. She’s the otome game protagonist here, born into an controlling family and finally freed, hiding a secret special power, beloved by almost all the men involved in the chapter while she’s harboring feelings for someone else, even has the typical friendship route with Mashu going on. Her love is a love that she doesn’t acknowledge, but that’s all it is. It’s never engaged with beyond the fact that she clearly loves Kirschtaria but insists she doesn’t, and her final scene as she dies is Mashu telling her that yes, she did love Kirschtaria. That’s all.

For a theme of love that’s supposedly woven into the Lostbelt, it’s barely examined at all. It’s not well written, and in comparison to Lostbelt 1′s theme of what it means to live in a world where the strong devour the weak and how deeply it examined and engaged with that, it’s a genuine disappointment.

Now, to move onto the plot, it’s...in the abstract, it’s fine. Chaldea is intercepted and forced to fight in the Lostbelt and ends up dragged into the overarching ploy by Surtr to release himself and burn everything. That’s a perfectly fine story, but the problem is that when you get to the moment-to-moment stuff, it falls apart completely.

Skadi is constantly talked up as this incredibly powerful true goddess, not merely a Divine Spirit, and we know she can see and hear our every move because of her snow. How does the story work around this borderline omniscience within her Lostbelt? Skadi just decides not to do anything about Chaldea with zero rhyme or reason. We need to sneak into the palace and avoid alerting the guards, except Skadi already knows exactly where we are, except that doesn’t matter because we need to sneak in for some reason. We get captured with no plan to escape, and it just so happens that not only was Skadi keeping a Divine Spirit amalgamation locked in the dungeons too, but that she can piggyback on you making a contract with Napoleon (pure dumb luck you hadn’t done it before) and force a connection with you too, and then cast spells to hide you while you escape. Skadi knows we’re trying to free Brynhildr, who is the sole threat to Sigurd and Skadi’s own Valkyries in the entire Lostbelt? She just decides to do nothing at all.

So much of the plot happens because either Skadi makes terrible decisions to do nothing, even though she knows Chaldea is there to destroy her entire world, or it happens because random shit goes on that couldn’t have been planned for like Sitonai. Shit like Surtr suddenly becoming Fafnir and being able to use the Evil Dragon Phenomenon to brainwash Ophelia somehow, like Ophelia’s Mystic Eye being able to do anything the plot demands, even when it explicitly goes against its existing capabilities like rewinding time on Sigurd’s wounds, like Bryn and Surtr somehow being able to resist the effects of her eye with no buildup or explanation. It’s poorly written in terms of the exact events that happen, and that all culminates in Skadi’s one cool moment, where she declares she’s going to kill the seven billion we fight for for the sake of her ten thousand...and then right after, it reveals that Skadi was going easy on us and refused to use her runes of instant death for no reason even though she was fighting for the survival of her entire world. The moment to moment plot is not good, and neither is what comes next, the worldbuilding.

In Skadi’s Lostbelt, half the world is covered in Surtr’s flames, while the other half is blanketed in Skadi’s snow. Where the two areas meet are the only places where life can grow, and so Skadi set up villages there. Unfortunately, there isn’t enough food for everyone, so she enforces strict population control: if you are not the mother or father of a child by 15, you are sent away to be killed by the giants. If you are the mother or father of a child, you are sent away to be killed at 25 instead. Through this tragic method, Skadi enforces a limit of 100 villages with 100 people, a total population of 10000. This is all fine.

But take a closer look at what we actually see, and this falls apart. First, the giants. The giants are immortal and never need to eat. They do nothing but sleep all day and attack any human that comes close to them. Later, it’s revealed that they’ll attack any heat source including Valkyries, except we know that’s not true. Giants never attack each other, they never attack and destroy any of the plant life around them, they never attack the Lostbelt tree seeds, they even fight alongside mass-produced Valkyries before it’s revealed that Skadi and the three originals can mind-control them! They exist only to destroy, but Skadi can control them with her masks and indeed uses them as labour, keeping them chained up in her castle to be brought out and controlled as needed, or using them to guard Brynhildr’s castle.

Worst of all, the first time we meet anyone in the chapter, it’s Gerda, who is sneaking out of her village to go to the massive liveable area close to Village 23. This area happens to be the only place she can go to get medicinal herbs that she needs or one of the people in her village will die in childbirth. This area is also full of giants, who have not destroyed it despite being fertile and full of life and heat, and who are allowed to take this place that could be used to grow more food for humans who need it, and simply stay there doing nothing.

Now, this is where I thought the game would engage with things. How Skadi, in professing her love for all her children, is actually being cruel and unfair. They certainly set it up in the conversations she has, where she casually mentions how humans must die for her coexistence to continue. Skadi chooses to keep the giants alive despite the fact that they are all braindead and can do nothing but kill and destroy the moment their masks are removed. She chooses to keep them alive even though it comes at the expense of the humans who must die when the giants never make that same sacrifice. She chooses to allow them fertile land even though they cannot farm nor do they need food, and in doing so deprive the humans of potentially living longer, having more supplies to do so. She makes these strange choices and then later reveals she can control the giants to do her bidding, and it all seems to fall into place.

What we see from how she’s characterized early on is that the system is unfair and Skadi is unwilling to change, because it benefits her tremendously. Gerda’s village didn’t have enough herbs to save the children forced to breed by 15, and despite Skadi’s omniscience letting her know that Gerda had snuck out and was trying to save a life, she did nothing. There was no system in place to beg a Valkyrie to get these herbs, and no indication whatsoever that Skadi would use her powers to control the giants to save Gerda’s life. The picture painted is someone who cares about humanity not out of true care, but simply out of obligation. Those who disobey her rules, even for good reasons, are left to die by the engines of destruction she keeps alive.

That’s not the story it tells later on, though. Skadi, portrayed from the start as this all-powerful goddess with complete control over everything, is revealed to be far weaker than we thought, and far less monstrous. Ignore all the times she did control the giants, she actually can’t do it all that well. Ignore all the times she declared she would not allow anyone she loved to be killed, but chose not to act to tell her Valkyries or her giants or anything else to save either Chaldea or Gerda. Ignore the evidence we see on screen that there’s more land that’s simply taken over by the giants, Skadi can only make those initial 100 villages and can’t make any more. Skadi is not bad. Skadi did the best she could. Skadi is morally right.

Please love Skadi, there’s no complicated moral quandary here, she’s just Good.

Comparisons to Lostbelt 1 are impossible to avoid. Both have the same basic cause, a calamity that was impossible to predict and impossible to avert. The stagnation that dooms a Lostbelt created by the kings in question in their desperation to survive. Ivan turned humanity into the Yaga and created a world of strength, where progress is impossible because everyone in his new world was too busy devouring each other to work together. Skadi created a world of weakness, where progress is impossible because she limited the population to avoid everyone dying out. There is, however, one crucial difference between the two. Not in terms of story, not in terms of characters, not in terms of themes.

“Your existence itself has already become a grave sin.”

That one line, spoken to Ivan, is the biggest difference between how the story engages things. In both Lostbelts, Ivan and Skadi did horrible things and made horrible choices because they had to, for the sake of survival. Ivan twisted humanity into monsters that lost capacity for mercy or empathy, while Skadi forced brutal population control and careless death on humanity because of her refusal to allow the giants to be destroyed. Both of them did horrible things, but only one is held to account by the story.

What Ivan did was evil, and the story recognises it. It doesn’t accept the excuse that it was all necessary for survival, because that’s irrelevant. It’s evil regardless. This same sentiment should have been expressed with Skadi, but it’s not. Ivan is condemned, but Skadi is absolved. She had no choice. She did the best she could. After building her up as all-powerful, the end of the story instead destroys her agency and power in its haste to prevent any kind of responsibility falling on Skadi’s head. Even to the very end, where she declares that she’ll kill all seven billion lives we fight for for the sake of her ten thousand, she holds back and allows us to win, despite how it butchers her character.

The biggest irony in all this is that Ivan’s world was worse than hers in ways. There was no way for the blizzards to stop, no meat besides for the demonic beasts. Crops couldn’t grow, and instead of living in peace, the Yaga were constantly tormented and killed by the Oprichniki. There were no liveable areas like there are in Lostbelt 2, no merciful ruler that sees all, and controls the greatest threats, no peaceful villages where food can be grown. There’s far more justification for Ivan to claim he had no choice and that he did all he did for survival, because it’s hard to see what his choices were. But Skadi? Skadi intentionally does not act and intentionally allows suffering and pain to come to her children, both actively by not saving Gerda, and passively by allowing the giants to take land they don’t need. Despite this, Skadi is absolved, because the story desperately wants her to be a tragic waifu that you love.

There’s lots more I could talk about. How Sitonai was pointless and existed only for a pathetic FSN reference. How Gerda was a cowardly and manipulative piece of writing compared to Patxi. How Ophelia’s story of always being told what to do is resolved not by her taking the step to freedom herself, but being told to free herself by someone else. The constant repetition that plagues the chapter, the weirdly prevalent sexism that everyone gets in on when it comes to Ophelia’s love life, the nonsense of the final battle itself, the absolute nonsense of Skadi being Scáthach-Skadi. I could even talk about how I’d fix the chapter, because boy howdy there’s a lot there.

There’s lots more I could talk about, but this is already very long, and I think it speaks for itself. Obviously asks are available if anyone wants me to examine them in more detail, but for now, I’ll finish off with one last reminder.

Lostbelt 2 is bad.

#FGO #fgo lostbelt #cosmos in the lostbelt #Lostbelt 2 #Fate Grand Order #Fate/Grand Order

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sunflowersseemhappy · 4 years

Note

Do you have any headcanons for main 6 set in modern times? What kind of job would they have, what music would they like or whatever else? I love your headcanons, they're always so detailed and on point 💖

I really loved doing this, only reason it took so long is because I definitely over thought a lot of this. Thank you for the ask! I hope you enjoy the headcanons, I definitely want to do more of this! SO when I have the time I definitely will and I actually have a rough plan of what the story and the background for the six and MC’s would be.

The “Event” mentioned references the plague but when and if I get to it that will all be explained.

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED but here is my Masterlist in the meantime!

Asra

You’ll usually find Asra in one of two places, the shop or the local cafe/bakery, living the slow city life.

Asra loves to people watch and more importantly he loves photography, he’s always taking pictures, a lot of them are of MC.

His bedroom wall is plastered with his photography and he sells a lot of them as a side gig on etsy.

He has a great blog too.

But his main focus is the shop, tucked away on a quiet corner street it feels faintly magical. Asra does tarot, sells candles, crystals and other trinkets, as well as herbal remedies that Julian admits work quite well.

In this AU Asra grew up in foster care, so when he finally found his home in the shop he never thought about living anywhere else.

It’s stayed that way for years, sharing a two bedroom flat above the shop with MC, its cluttered at times, filled with secondhand belongings but Asra loves having his own space and own things.

And he so loves taking his little holidays out of the city, bringing back more trinkets that bring good luck and fortune.

Asra always wears sneakers or trainers on his feet, mainly because all he does is walk in the city.

Although he does have a painted van for the shop deliveries; he and MC spent a week painting a swirling pattern on its sides.

His wardrobe is all tees with faded logos and cotton pants but on the rare occasion he decides to dress up Asra has an impossibly colourful blouse and faded jeans he loves to wear.

And there are so many hats! Vesuvia is sunny but he has more hats than he needs, although it's nice to have one for any occasion.

Also has crocs, they are an abomination of pink.

Asra’s phone of choice is an old samsung, he keeps meaning to update it but he’s a bit scared the photos on it will get lost.

Asra and technology don’t always mix well, for some reason...

Even in this universe Asra wouldn’t be Asra if he didn’t have Faust, a mischievous lavender python who always seems to escape her vivarium and ends up in Asra’s camera bag.

When Asra picked her out at the pets store he was told he was the only person she had ever not bitten or squeezed. Asra believes in fate, so he took her back home with him and the two are inseparable.

Asra oh so loves music, and just about any kind of tune can be found on his mp3 however he soon found his favourite to be the chillhop tunes the cafe played everyday. They really relax him.

The biggest Disney fan when he was younger, Asra then slowly decided Dreamworks were better but his favourite movies are those from Studio Ghibli. Asra simply adores the art, the music and the stories.

As mentioned Asra loves photography but he also quickly discovered watercolour paint and he doesn’t claim to be good at it but he does love making little pieces of art for birthdays and Christmas.

Speaking of which Christmas is his favourite holiday.

Asra also dabbles in growing orchids, he's too successful and there are so many he and MC don’t know what to do with them!

Asra’s favourite hobby aside from photography is rollerblading. He’s pretty good at it, cruising through the streets and along the dockside of the city (he definitely dragged MC into trying it out).

Asra never really thought he’d be one to get a tattoo but after getting Faust he changed his mind, since then he has a gorgeous complicated tattoo of the little snake on his shoulder blade.

It was only after “The Event” that Asra got another one; MC’s favourite flower on his hip bone.

Nadia

Nadia Santrivia, she’s beautiful, generous and married one of the richest men in the city, for the most part she’s alright with that.

Although Nadia hasn’t always lived in Vesuvia she’s tuned into the city around her so well, she’s in her element and thriving.

Work doesn’t end, if there was ever a beginning to start with. It's one thing after another; approving designs, attending fancy dinners, opening a charity fundraiser. Life is busy for the CEO of Vesuvia Industries.

Nadia’s happy to run Lucio’s business, because she knows she can do good with it but she can get lonely. Thankfully she has several friends who she can rely on to cheer her on...

The most important thing is that she can be herself, her own person, being last in line for her parent’s business and overshadowed by several sisters Nadia needed an escape.

Vesuvia provided the opportunity.

Nadia’s apartment is sat above the clouds in the skyscraper of Vesuvia Industries, much the same as the other universe home and work go hand in hand when it comes to Nadia.

She’s not materialistic, her apartment is clean and open and perfect for yoga and other purposes that require open space. It's very new and high tech, the coffee machine is her favourite thing though.

The views of the sunrise over the bay are gorgeous.

Ashamed to admit she has tons of shoes.

It’s usually required of Nadia to have the suits and dresses befitting a woman of her status, so when the sun goes down or she has a day off Nadia looks like an entirely different person.

She’s no less stylish, but her airy blouse’s, ripped denim jeans, subtle leather jacket and ankle boots give her a whole different persona, and man does it make her look good on her motorcycle.

Yes a motorcycle, Nadia owns one. It comes out of her garage only once a month but when it does she turns heads.

The rest of the time Naida is pretty eco-friendly with an electric car the business made just for her in a deep shade of purple.

As the CEO of the company Nadia is expected to have the latest iPhone model, her phone is always ringing and if she weren’t so patient she’d probably hurl it off the skyscraper roof.

Nadia always wanted a pet but she could never figure out what kind, and one dropped into her lap literally. Turns out she’s an owl person, although Nadia would never consider Chandra a pet more a companion.

A skyscraper is no place for a semi-wild owl but Nadia is happy enough to make the trip to the stables outside of Vesuvia to see Chandra and give her toys. Such a change from the small owlet Nadia raised.

When it comes to music Nadia is very picky, she spent her childhood listening to her sister’s choice of music and certain songs just put her in a bad mood, except for jazz.

That music preference surprised her but as soon as she discovered Lucio didn’t like it she was hooked. She thought about learning the saxophone (not to annoy Lucio or anything, no definitely not...)

Nadia’s not a big movie watcher, although she is a big fan of disaster movies when the mood strikes (it's nice to think about more chaotic things happening than signing a stack of papers), mainly she only has time to watch tv shows.

Her favourite is the Walking Dead but MC has caught her watching ‘how its made’ shows too. Of course being an avid inventor Nadia would be enthralled by seeing how her car or coffee machine is put together.

Speaking of inventing, although Nadia always wanted to make it her job she’s only ever gotten to approve the inventions her company makes.

It's not entirely what she wanted but thankfully she has just enough time to squeeze in working on her little projects. Ones she hopes will help others one day.

Nadia’s found it super important in the big city to keep herself safe, between her hobbies of yoga, kung fu and fencing she’s a pretty formidable opponent. It’s saved her life more than she’ll ever admit.

Her other hobbies, to list a few are horse riding, polo, piano, swimming, wine tasting, and playing those arcade grabber machines (she has about 50 teddy bears and MC has about the same amount). Most of those hobbies began in her childhood.

Nadia likes to pretend she is above getting a tattoo but anyone who knows her well enough will reveal she has a owl shadow tattoo on her inner heel.

Julian

Poor Julian is the definition of a struggling city batchelor, and he certainly wouldn’t have it any other way.

Still the most well traveled of the group Julian spent his formative years abroad in the army as a field medic (where he met Lucio), now though he’s a lean mean crime fighting machine!

Well he’s a forensics doctor for the Vesuvia PD, but it still counts as being a crime fighter! He’s never really lost that dramatic flair that's for sure.

He’s been a bit of everything; medic and doctor, waiter, translator, actor, sailor, troublemaker and a fugitive (but that’s a story for another day).

But Vesuvia truly is his real home, a place he’s always come back to and where he’s made friends and family, enemies, lovers, and memories.

Sure he lives in the ‘bad part’ of town as Asra calls it, but Julian feels at home enough that it doesn’t bother him, that and he’s got Mazelinka to handle the riff raff.

The two of them share a two-storey house that sits next to his favourite bar, a bit too convenient for Maz’s liking. Despite that the place is cozy and old, all wood flooring and furniture that's been around longer than Julian’s lifetime, it’s filled with the scent of cooking and coffee and other than the box tv and Julian’s phone there's almost no modern technology.

Julian’s room has faded photos of his friends, and postcards from places he’s been too and a few posters of his favourite plays, as well as rough sketches tacked to the corkboard his desk is littered with papers and he even has an old school microscope.

In the mess of his room only Julian can find the thing that he’s looking for, he calls it an ‘organized mess’ when in reality it’s really just a mess.

Unfortunately this extends to his clothing choices too, Julian is terrible at laundry so there is no end to the stains on his mellow patterned tees and jeans, the only smart thing about his wardrobe are his boots and oxfords.

Quite true to form his black trench coat is a constant companion. He usually dresses like he’s in a black and white movie or like a scruffy doctor when he’s in his lab coat.

Still has an eye patch, his depth perception when crossing roads is not great... there are a lot of hospital bills.

Also the reason he doesn’t drive unless he can help it, Julian doesn��t own a car but he’s prone to borrowing one if he needs it (usually from Asra).

Julian is very much the guy on the subway who falls asleep on your shoulder because it's the only place his mind isn’t working overtime.

MC thinks it’s very cute.

Julian’s not really too fussed about his phone of choice, Samsung, Apple, so long as he can make calls and do google searches on symptoms of a flu he’s good. No matter how hard he tries his screen is always cracked.

People often point out the raven following Julian around, he’s not too sure if its the same one but Julian knows its his own fault feeding the scrawny thing when it landed on his window pane. Now it won’t leave him alone, Julian took to calling it Malak and he’s quite fond of the bird even if it likes to cackle for food outside his window at an ungodly hour in the morning.

Maz has threatened to cook Malak on more than one occasion.

Music is one of the few things that helps Julian focus, he’s not usually super into any particular artist or album but his main love is music from musicals and movie soundtracks, if he’s able to do so he’ll sing along.

Lead forensic doctor Valdemar finds it highly unprofessional when they are conducting autopsies.

Almost has no time to watch movies or tv but if you strapped Julian to a chair and put on Brooklyn 99 or any kind of superhero movie he might enjoy it just a little bit...

Honestly though those things are just background noise for him, Julian will put on the tv to keep himself occupied while he’s doing reports. But he loves comedy movies and shows, they might tear him away from his laptop just long enough that he gets a few good laughs.

However if Mazlinka gets the old camcorder out he’s all over watching old home videos of him and Portia and his old hound dog, he’s just so nostalgic sometimes.

Thinks learning counts as a hobby, Julian habitually grabs any book he can to read through so youtube is a miracle in his eyes. Free content, that he can listen to and learn from as well as visually see? Yes please.

Julian learned to play the fiddle when he was younger, for a time as a teen he even went street performing to earn money for Portia’s obsession with bracelet making. He doesn’t play it much anymore but he’ll give MC a tune anyday.

He’s also very invested in cocktail mixing, only thing he mixes is Salty Bitters, he’ll argue any day that the Salty Bitter counts as a cocktail.

Also very invested in his self sustaining bio-tank at work, the other officers are growing concerned about the leeches Julian likes to keep in it. They’re planning an intervention.

The only tattoo Julian had was one forcibly given during “The Event”, his ‘murderers mark’ on his hand. He’s really ashamed of it because it reminds him of the part he had in the disaster that befell Vesuvia.

Muriel

He definitely suits the other universe more, it's even harder to get away from people in this modern world.

But the start remains the same, he was lost and his only friend was Asra for a long time, until Lucio came along and tricked him into doing unspeakable things as a ‘bodyguard’ until he escaped.

People are unavoidable and Muriel keeps to himself during his job as a keeper for a local animal sanctuary, raising and re-releasing wildlife with other volunteers, he practically runs the place.

But the volunteers know not to bother him especially when he goes back to his house on the hill, to take care of his chickens before he vanishes like usual into his house.

No one knows much about him, and he prefers it like that.

Muriel’s home is simple and honestly built for one, there’s only one chair, only one pillow on the bed, only one set of cutlery, only one of everything. It leaks on occasion and always needs fixing, he’ll forgo sleep to fix things.

Who needs more than four hours of sleep anyway?

A lot of Muriel’s belongings are from garage sales, or picked up off the side of the road, not a lot of money goes toward his comfort Muriel prefers that the animals in the sanctuary have comfortable beds and good food.

Muriel’s clothes? He wears them till they die, an usually when he picks them up from a garage sale they’re already pretty close.

For that reason Muriel doesn’t have a specific choice of clothing, he owns jumpers, tees, denim jackets, flannels and whatever jeans and pants fit. He has one pair of khaki coloured boots that are surprisingly well maintained and usually wears a beanie or cattleman hat to hide his face.

Old pick up, old pick up, old pick up! Owns an old pick up truck he fixed up, it breaks down regularly and only plays radio but Inanna enjoys riding in the back. Muriel likes driving a lot on those country roads.

All that’s to be said about Muriel and his phone is this; he owns a nokia and has no intention of getting a smartphone. Ever.

His hands are a bit big for it though, he’s called MC and Julian accidently so many times... and he only usually text’s, so that's awkward.

Inanna is Muriel’s constant companion, and when they’re in the city man do the two of them turn heads. Inanna is a wolfdog in this universe and she definitely looks more wolf than dog.

But she really is a big sweetheart, Muriel raised her from a puppy after she was rejected and placed in a shelter, he knew a wolf dog would need some special attention to grow into a perfect companion rather than a dangerous animal.

Anyone can look at Muriel and instantly think he’s one of those people who would play country music, for the most part that’s true. He does play the guitar and can sing okay, he does like country but his real love of music comes from indie artists.

He can’t really explain it but the music gives him a sense of carelessness and hope he’s never known.

Doesn’t really watch tv or movies, Muriel is almost always too busy for that but he’s found it the strangest thing, Inanna likes watching tv...

After that he got drawn in by the documentaries about animals, he didn’t really realize that people did shows about the habitats and behaviours of animals but he finds himself entranced by it when he passes by.

He soon relented and sits on the floor with his arm draped over Inanna as they watch documentaries about wolves in Alaska.

With the amount of animals Muriel raises anyone would call it a job, Muriel however would argue it's a hobby for him. Sure waking up every hour in the night to feed raccoon babies isn’t ideal but it's never been anything short of joyous to watch them go back to the wild.

Muriel's other hobby centres around his guitar and learning songs to play to himself and maybe a certain person *cough* MC *cough*.

He’s also an avid baker, none of his meals are ready made. Leading on from that he forages for mushrooms, and herbs rather than buys them.

Muriel doesn’t have a tattoo, only his scars.

He thought about getting some but he doesn’t trust someone to touch him that way and also he’s not a big fan of needles.

Probably a good thing otherwise Inanna and all his chickens names would be on his arm.

Portia

Absolutely suits the modern life in this universe, Portia somehow finds the time to do everything, the bustling worker or the relaxed dreamer.

She’s almost everywhere in the city, doing everything at once; working at Vesuvia Industries, grabbing the sweetest iced tea at the cafe, exploring the corruption of downtown streets.

Portia is obsessed with knowing every inch of the city, and what goes on inside it because it's a very strange city with a stranger history.

Portia is a great and helpful assistant to Nadia, but she’s also hiding a lot including her identity as Pasha Devorak the reporter for Vesuvian Times.

She has as many curious secrets as the city.

Portia previously lived in a small studio flat however since working for Nadia she has been lucky enough to afford to rent out a small cottage outside the city. She loves it so much and other than being in an AU not much has changed between the two cottages.

It’s shielded by so many grand trees and a vivacious garden that it feels like her own little world, the inside of the cottage is filled with hand knitted blankets, painted glass figurines and the warm smell of baked goods.

Sometimes its a bigger place than Portia can manage by herself but she likes taking to fixing things as they come along, she definitely is a fan of the saying “if it ain’t broke don’t fix it!”

Her clothing choices are just so cute and by no means is she afraid of showing off her cottage core style; jumpers, skirts, vest tops, crop tops and patterned blouses look really good on her. Of course the garden requires the heavy duty stuff, sweatpants, a tattered tee and the old hoodie that refuses to die.

She’s not to much into heels even though she’s short, Portia prefers pumps and loafers because “comfort over beauty!” (although she would be pretty cute with or without).

Nadia finds Portia’s headstrong and optimism very amusing and definitely takes a few life lessons from Portia.

Who needs to drive? Portia doesn’t, she loves taking the bus or the train wherever she goes. That way she can bop her head to her tunes while watching the landscape go by, in a beautiful intricate place like Vesuvia it's important to take it all in.

That and everyone can agree that Portia behind the wheel of a vehicle is a disaster, she just gets so distracted.

Nadia has offered Portia a new phone many times but Portia is plenty happy enough with her older gen 6 iphone (because if she got a new one she’d have to get wireless headphones!) Also she’d feel bad for Siri.

Unfortunately Pepi the cat came from terrible circumstances, certain circumstances where Portia jumped of a bridge after witnessing someone chuck a mewling bag into the river.

But Portia is so thankful for her amazing kitten, the two of them protect each other. Though Pepi’s idea of protecting Portia is making sure the birds don’t feed from the feeder outside and meowing at the fridge when it’s too loud.

Portia’s music taste is disarming to those who don’t know her well, she is a huge fan of rock, any rock music just so long as it’s good and a classic (ACDC, Queen, etc...) she likes to think she is a connoisseur of rock.

Julian can not put into words how much he abhorred it when his little sister would blast that music to drown out his.

Portia will either watch every movie or show when it comes out or will binge watch a show or movie after forgetting it existed. There is no inbetween, but she loves media, consumes it even.

Detective shows and spy movies are her favourite but she’ll enjoy just about anything unless it's a musical she was forced to watch one too many times because of Julian.

Portia has so many hobbies, one would say too many but she digresses.

Of course gardening is at the top of her list, moreso because the garden always needs doing but she gets a great sense of pride growing her own food and Pepi loves chasing the spiders that hide in the strawberries.

Portia is also a very avid blogger, there is a lot of conspiracy theories on there but with a following of half the city it seems pretty popular.

In her downtime Portia is loves to relax with her favourite soft drink and beat V3suviaC0unt#1 ass on her games console, she finds the shrieking of her enemy to be great fun.Portia’s love of games however soon transpired to collecting action figures of her favourite game characters.

She is very protective of them.

Like Muriel, Portia also doesn’t have a tattoo. It’s not that she’s afraid of needles but she just hasn’t found a reasonably good design to get yet.

Lucio

Lucio is definitely the one out of the six who was made for the modern world, sure being a Count is cool and all but in this world he can have both power and freedom and not have to sit in every meeting called.

He’s never once taken anything seriously, Lucio’s power has been built on the backs of others without him ever having to raise a finger.

It’s happened everywhere he goes, in the army he sacrificed the good of his teammates to rise in the ranks, he forced the Asra’s parents to make him the best prosthetic arm in history, he codled up to an old dying man to get his business and when he found out that wasn’t for him Lucio pawned it off to his wife and rolled onto the next devious plan.

Lucio’s been an army man, a CEO, a crime lord and the cause of “The Event” but maybe one day he’ll rise above those defining moments and be greater (but that is a story for another day).

Of course Lucio did live with Nadia for a time, but when he made her CEO Lucio took to calling his mansion home, Nadia wasn’t a fan of the creepy vibe it gave off which is just as well because Lucio hosts a lot of unsavoury characters...

True to form each room in that place has only the most expensive belongings, every bed is king size and the garage is filled with gas guzzling monstrosities of cars. It’s not cluttered by any means, but it's gaudy and shows off his wealth.

The only place things seem normal is the kitchen, Lucio doesn’t spend much time in there but on the wall sits a board of old memories when he got along with the others, they didn’t always find him unbearable.

Lucio’s torn it down and put it up so many times already he can never make up his mind if he wants to keep it.

Only thing Lucio ever liked about running a company were the expensive suits he was told he had to wear at least that was a great improvement on his fashion sense. Of course he’s not always wearing suits sometimes he’ll just wear a dress shirt with one too many buttons undone and a pair of white chinos and trainers.

Sunglasses are a must, that, and a lint roller. The dogs shed a lot...

As mentioned before Lucio has a lot of very pricey cars, he is the product of what would happen in Portia was given a car, he’d get distracted and crash it into the back of another vehicle.

He’s lucky anyone will insure him and that he has so many cars.

Lucio tried to be different to the ‘normies’ by getting his company to make a phone suitable to his taste. A phone that had two charging ports (to charge it twice as fast) and a waterproof casing (that kept it a bit too dry and hot so it spontaneously combusted in his pocket).

Lucio now has the latest iPhone instead.

Owns a lot of pets, the exotic eels, macaques, cockatoo, etc... The same as he does in the normal universe, none of which are particularly nice and well behaved. He prefers his fur babies Mercedes and Melinchor.

They were two dogs he saw fighting in dog fights and he was in love instantly buying them and bringing them to live with him, chaos follows those two like a bad odour.

Lucio decided that to be the cool rich guy he needed to like cool music, for the longest time he spent his time listening to hip hop no one really ever notices that Lucio in fact hates hip hop, he much prefers pop music.

It's a secret he will take to his grave but MC has definitely heard him singing to Katy Perry’s ‘Firework’ in the shower.

Lucio is the biggest movie buff in Vesuvia, he’s definitely offended when no one invites him to premieres, which is why he’s done all he can to get into movies (with little avail). And he will watch anything and enjoy it, he is usually one of those people who don’t realize the book exists when such a movie is out.

But do you know what his favourite kind of movies are?

Romantic-comedies, or just anything that's classed as romance. Date nights with Lucio are pretty good but he cries a lot, poor guy.

Just don’t get started with Lucio and hobbies, if he’s tried something once he’ll make out he knows everything about it and even if he hasn’t tried it he’ll pretend he has. He’s forever speaking out of his a** but no one dares call him out on it.

That being said Lucio really doesn’t have the capability to commit to a hobby, unless parties count? They don’t? They should!

Although one could say maybe planning parties does count...

Tattoos? Lucio has a few; his army number on the back of his neck, a sword piercing a heart on his chest and the twin silhouettes of the dogs running on the heel of his foot.

#the arcana #asra #nadia #julian #muriel #portia #lucio #modern #au #alternative #universe #the arcana asra #the arcana nadia #the arcana julian #the arcana muriel #the arcana portia #the arcana lucio

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bambamramfan · 3 years

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Freddie is a good writer and Scott is a good writer (and Freddie just wrote a passionate defense of Scott this week) so reading Scott admire and then tear apart Freddie’s book is an enlightening read. It has a lot of interesting points and only two more-heat-than-light controversial parts...

So I’m gonna be a jerk and just talk about the controversial parts. Sorry. (You should really read the review AND the book for its good points though.)

***

One: what is this weird double bind with group genetic differences in IQ? If IQ should not be determinative of your moral value, if we should value underachievers just as much as Harvard grads, why would we have such problems even discussing the subject of whether different races have different IQ averages, or so I read this piece as asking?

Obvious answer A: because individuals aren’t averages, and whenever any society starts agreeing about an average of a group in any way that isn’t 100% equal, people wildly over generalize about every single individual in that group as fitting the stereotype. We aren’t being truth-seeking when we refuse to acknowledge the average difference, but dear lord it is one hell of a lot better than what happens to members of group X every time you come to a consensus that on average group Y is better at something.

More important answer B: because moral value is not an abstract category separable from social power. One can imagine a society that admits people with Inny Belly Buttons are just smarter than people with Outies. Not just particular individuals, but as a group. But said society still wants everyone to be well off. To achieve this, the Innies are put in charge of political institutions (and academic and corporate ones), with the clear directive to get good results from everyone using their meritocratic superiority.

We all know what that society will look like very shortly. The word often thrown around is “colonialism”, or white man’s burden if you’re being really snarky. None of us are unbiased and selfless enough for their group of people to be put in charge of everyone else, and to not begin distorting matters to their benefit. (That is sort of the point of anti-meritocracy arguments.)

So trying to solve for “are their group differences in IQ” leads to two very big problems. And it’s unclear what benefit you would get from finding group differences in IQ. So people don’t do it.

This is not the most truth-seeking behavior. But the two really big problems are real and should be considered for “why the public discussion on the left moves this way.”

***

Two: Freedom from Child Prison. I mostly agree with Scott about his view of schools. I don’t think he’s entirely right - his social world somewhat selects for the people who hated school and so downplays the experience of people who liked it, so his estimate of the total and average suffering is off. But yeah, there is a lot of forced suffering going on with schools, and we should try to stop it.

I don’t really know how to do this. Pandemic has shown that a lot of parents really aren’t equipped to be with their children 24/7. Now on some level it would just be nice to admit that child prison is more for the parent’s sake (and our economic productivity) than what the kids are learning. And if you made me King of America that’s one thing I’d quickly try to act on, just I think the actual solutions are very complicated and Scott’s quick sketch of solutions are fairly blithe.

In a less passionate but more consistently true statement I would say: the way we organize school right now only works if you ignore the preferences of the student, and if we had to be even a little accountable to kids than we would get a very different system. Defending the current system (which is not the same as working within the system to make lives better) basically requires saying children’s preferences should not have any say in decisions this big. Which some people feel! But most people left of center don’t, or at least would not admit.

But where Scott really goes off the rails is equating “charter schools” with “kids being free.” I hate to break it to him, but many charter schools are more authoritarian and hellish than public schools. SPECIFICALLY SUCCESS ACADEMY. But SA isn’t even the worst. Freedom to try things like “treating your kids like they are basically in the military” is what charter school experimentation is all about.

Some of the charter schools also try more freedom-leaning structures. (They are not as represented among the “success stories” of charter schools though.) And yes in theory, your parents getting to pick what child prison you go to might mean you have some more say in the school and marginally more freedom. But well, “parents who don’t trust your judgment picking what prison you go to” just isn’t the same as not going to prison. If prison abolitionists were met with someone offering a compromise “okay, the victim of your crime can decide which prison you go to”, they would not really think that meets or even approaches their goals. It might even be a good idea, but I would not channel all my rage at prisons into people who argued against the victim-choosing thing.

(I suspect this leap of logic was caused by the increasing hate towards home-schooling in some political circles, and the rationalist community getting defensive about home-schooling lately, and the obvious basis for alliance between home-schooling and charter schools. Which all makes sense, but most of the time is going to mean fuck all to the kid stuck in third period PE.)

#I never know whether it is polite or impolite to tag Scott or Freddie in posts like this.

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ad1thi · 4 years

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@starklysteve rhae asked for some winteriron recs (read: i volunteered to spam rhae w buckytony fics because i adore them), so in no particular order, and based on my memory alone, here are some of my favourite buckytony fics!!

(please remember to leave kudos and comments!!)

American Memorial: @/spqr

“Pick up the shield,” Tony said. Understandably, Bucky told him to go fuck himself

Losing You (Is My Supervillain Origin Story): @amethystinawrites

There are a lot of things that Bucky regrets. The list is, quite frankly, longer than he can handle on most days and, right at the very top, is lying to Tony about who killed his parents. Bucky has known even from before they started dating, but he simply can't bring himself to say anything — to ruin one of the few good things he has in his life. It's selfish and wrong, but Bucky just doesn't know how to tell Tony that he is the one responsible for Howard and Maria Stark's deaths.

So when he starts receiving anonymous emails, threatening to expose the truth to Tony and the rest of the world, Bucky is desperate enough to agree to the blackmailer's terms, even if it means breaking up with Tony. Bucky cannot, under any circumstances, let Tony find out about his parents from anyone but Bucky himself.

Too late Bucky realizes that there is much more to the blackmailer's scheme than just having Bucky break Tony's heart. Too late Bucky realizes that despite his best intentions, he will still end up losing everything — in a much more permanent way than he could ever have imagined.

Hindsight: @amethystinawrites

Ever since he was a little boy, Bucky has dreamed of becoming an astronaut together with Steve, and he can hardly believe their luck when both of them are picked for the Ares 3 crew — the third expedition sent to explore Mars. It is, quite literally, a dream come true.

Things get complicated when Bucky finds himself inconveniently attracted to their mechanical engineer, however. Tony Stark is funny, competent, and absolutely captivating, but considering NASA's strict non-fraternization policy, Bucky knows it's better to keep his interest to himself — at least until they return to Earth. He can wait.

Not once does Bucky consider the possibility that all of them might not make it back alive, or just how much he'll come to regret not acting when he had the chance.

Arsenal: @tangodancer91 (part of a series) (also my all time favourite buckytony series ever)

Two years after the Civil War that tore apart everything she’d bled to build, Toni Stark sacrificed herself for her newly-reinstated teammates and ended up stranded in the past. Freed of her name, her fortune, and her hostile ex-teammates, she built herself a life as an agent for the OSS, the American secret service, and, having nothing to lose, accepted a mission to infiltrate the newest player in the war: an organization that call themselves HYDRA.

Then, she met a young draftee with a dreadfully familiar face, and they clicked like she had never clicked with anyone before. By the time she realized she’d fallen for the man who’d cost her everything, it was too late, but she’d always been an all or nothing type of girl, and if she was damning herself, well then…might as well go all the way.

Yield: @aurumacadicus (this is an a/b/o verse fic)

All Bucky has ever wanted was to win the contest for Tony's hand in marriage. It's a bit harder now that he's down to one arm, but luckily his friends are willing to help make up the difference.

Barnes Family Motors Inc: @phlintandsteel-ao3 (this is an a/b/o verse fic)

In a world where alphas legally own omegas, Bucky is just a small time mechanic from Brooklyn who gets lucky in a poker game. Tony is an omega whose life is fraught with abuse, until his luck suddenly takes a turn for the better.

In the grand scheme of things they may only be able to make little differences in the lives of those around them, but that doesn't mean it's not worth making them. After all, a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.

The Long Con (don’t kid yourself): @phlintandsteel-ao3

When Tony finds out that Howard is thinking about changing the terms of Tony’s trust fund, he embarks on a not-so-elaborate scheme to prove that he’s totally settling down and not in continued need of Howard’s “guidance” until 25 instead of 21. Step 1: Get a fiance Step 2: ??? Step 3: Profit (Finally be free of Howard)

Unfortunately, Tony Stark is the worst con-artist ever, and may only be kidding himself..

Hot Mess: @/niki

“Would serve him right if we had the world's most ill-advised one night stand.”

Imperceptions and Assumptions: @/NarutoRox

Afterward, Bucky would look back on their first meeting with fondness and a healthy dose of amusement. At the time, though, he’d mostly been confused - and more than a little embarrassed.

Bucky hadn’t paid much attention to the media in his early days, and hadn’t bothered really reading up on the team or anything, either, so when Steve had said ‘Tony Stark’, Bucky had just assumed.

The same way he’d looked at the three people who’d walked through the door - an imposing redhead in heels, a bored-looking brunette who dimpled when she saw him and Steve, and a sturdy-looking man wearing a slight glower - locked eyes on the man, and assumed him to be the infamous Tony Stark Steve wouldn’t shut up about.

It was Bucky’s first lesson when it came to Natasha Antonia ‘Toni’ Stark - never assume.

In which Tony Stark is actually Natasha Antonia 'Toni' Stark (which everyone knows) as well as Iron Man (which everyone does not know), assumptions are made, and there are misunderstandings.

From this prompt: How about a cross between my two favorite tropes? Nobody knows who iron man is other than Natasha/Antonia Stark's bodyguard but Bucky is in love with one or both of them

i know, you know (that i’m not telling the truth) : @imposter-human

psychic tony stark is called to work a routine case with detective bucky barnes; only, he seems to be more connected to the case than anyone thought

or, a psych au!!

the new romeo and juliet: @imposter-human

Bucky and Tony weren’t dating, because a firefighter and a detective couldn’t date (never mind that Tony hadn’t slept with anyone else since their thing had started, and he and Bucky hung out with an alarming frequency, and the whole precinct thought that they were an item). It didn't matter how many nights they spent together, how Bucky had a drawer of Tony's things and vice versa, they just couldn't.

It was a classic Romeo and Juliet situation, if Romeo and Juliet actively disliked each other on top of everything.

if found, please return to: @capnshellhead

Tony Stark shows up at Bucky's bar after a really tough break up and Bucky decides to look after him

gods of carnage: @deathsweetqueen (part of a series)

On May 29, 1970, the Winter Soldier feels a burning sensation and looks down at his wrist to find a single name written in enduring ink: Antonia Margaret Stark.

HYDRA, fearing the defiance of their greatest asset due to a bond that cannot and will not be denied its due, immediately dispatches the Soldier, to locate, collect and deliver this newborn girl to HYDRA, which will become her new home, her new family and her entire world - to be raised as another one of HYDRA’s great warriors: their Engineer.

But the Engineer is a faulty asset. She thinks things that may get her killed one day. She wants things that she shouldn’t, that are not hers to want. She has a mind and body that belong more to herself than any handler, than any commander she may have.

And if she cuts her strings, when she cuts her strings, well, when you put sheep next to wolves, you ask for a bloodbath.

where i walk, you follow (where i burn, you burn): @deathsweetqueen

At his father's command, Anthony Stark trades in his northern keep for a southern crown, wedded and bedded by Alexander of House Pierce, First of His Name.

Tony does his duty, becomes a wolf in name only, toothless and clawless, and a dark, gleaming ornament for the King, even if he would make himself a widower a hundred times over.

Honour demanded it of him, and so he did.

But it is Ser James Barnes, named the Kingslayer for his sins during the Rebellion, that draws his eye, gives him comfort in this pit of liars and monsters

So, what is honour compared to a good man's love? They are only human, and the gods have fashioned us for love.

[Fic by deathsweetqueen, Art by MassiveSpaceWren]

Cat Parenting (And Other Meet Cutes): @singingwithoutwords (this is an a/b/o verse fic)

Of all the ways Bucky could have finally gotten a chance to speak to his crush, why did it have to be his cat getting Tony's cat pregnant?

Codename Heartbreaker: @rinnwrites (part of a series)

Today was a day that, contrary to popular belief, Tony Stark had most certainly not been looking forward to. It was election day, or election night, rather, and the polls were closed, the results were in; Howard Stark was the next President of the United States of America.

Tony Stark Bingo - R3: Election Day

Fate Strings Not Required: @akira-of-the-twilight

“Hey doll,” a new voice said from Tony’s side.

Tony glanced at the person approaching.

Someone was working the rugged, bad boy look. The new guy rocked a leather jacket and blue jeans.

His blue eyes lit up with joy as he approached Tony. “Something wrong here?” The new guy gave the first guy--the one insisting he was Tony's soul mate--a once over then turned his full attention on Tony. “You’re looking a little stressed, anything I can do?”

Tony took the hint.

Tony wrapped his hand around the new guy’s elbow. He kept his touch light and breakable in case he’d misread the cue.

“Just some guy claiming to be my soul mate, babe.”

The new guy’s eyebrows rose to his hairline in surprise. He chuckled and gave the first guy a smirk. “Strange. Last time I checked we were soul mates.”

Siren’s Treasure: @akira-of-the-twilight

Prompt: I really love the idea of playboy!Bucky flirt of the seven seas first-mate to Captain Rogers, falling completely overboard in love with our Blacksmith-Inventor Inexperienced!Tony who goes from confident captive to shy woe-begone man in the presence of Bucky's fierce affections. Virgin!Tony wonders what a siren like Bucky could possibly want with him. Bucky wants to know what the fuck Logan thinks he's doing flirting with the man who stole his heart like sunken treasures. Happy ending please?

“Sirens killed your crew?” Steve repeated.

The dark haired man nodded. Just an hour ago the Avenger crew had found the man clinging to driftwood in the middle of the ocean. Now he clutched the flask of rum Bucky had given him like it was all that kept him buoyant during these tumultuous times.

The man—Tony—had already downed more than half the flask and was still sober. “Not exactly my crew, but close enough. Yeah.” Tony uncapped the flask and threw back a mouthful.

Steve frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

Tony shrugged. “I wasn’t captain of the ship.”

“So what were you?” Steve pressed.

Road hazards: @riotwritesthings

Steve and Bucky's BFF road trip is not going well. For starters, Steve couldn't even make it, and for some bizarre reason asked Tony to take his place. The fact that it’s only a couple days before someone is trying to kill them isn’t nearly as stressful as the fact that Bucky and Tony have never really had an actual conversation.

It’s hard to avoid someone when stuck in a car with them though, and if they manage to stay alive they just might learn a thing or two.

Once Upon a Wintertime: @iam93percentstardust (this is an a/b/o verse fic)

Look, Bucky knows that he’s fulfilling every cliché in the book right now. He knows that, as a bodyguard, he’s not supposed to fall in love with his client. But Tony’s good and sweet and so, so lonely and how could Bucky not? He thinks he’s got a shot after Tony breaks up with his boyfriend but on a trip across the country, he finds out that Tony needs a bondmate or the board will steal SI—and Ty’s already said yes.

little bird: @thxngam

Bucky laughs, and it’s loud and unbidden, a way he hadn’t laughed for years before, tugging his giggling omega into his lap. Tony quiets and nestles into Bucky’s chest like he was made to belong there, and Bucky has noticed several times that Tony is much smaller than he is, but he never quite noticed how Tony always seemed to curl into him as a reason for his size.

Tony nestles like a little bird.

Teenage Dream: @anthonyed

Tony Stark develops a crush on the school's bad boy who is too cool to hang out with anyone. At least, it's what Tony thinks. He never considered that James Barnes is probably as lonely as he is.

(in the process of editing)

The Best Laid Plans (of Mice and Men): @arboreal-elm-ash-oak

His Dark Materials AU

It was Annalise who noticed their small visitor first.

“Tony,” the spider daemon said softly, skittering up the collar of his dress shirt, two of her eight legs resting delicately against his cheek, “Don’t startle them, but I believe we have a guest. Look, by the coffee table.”

A Kitten and a Soldier: @/ThatDamnKennedyKid

Bucky hadn't heard from Rumlow in years - since the whole Winter Soldier fiasco in Siberia. They've been discharged for nearly six years, but when he gets a message that only says "I need your help" , he grabs his jacket and keys.

The Prince’s Bride: @hddnone

After Tony loses the love of his life to pirates on the high sea, not much matters to him. He agrees to wed Prince Justin Hammer to gain access to vibranium and shut himself away in his workshop until the end of time, but a group of ruffians kidnap Tony to take him to Hydra.

Tony's rescue takes on an unlikely form - the Dread Pirate Rogers, who killed the love of his life five years ago.

A Princess Bride AU

A Kind of Destiny: @weethreequarter

A chance meeting at a wedding brings together an American war veteran and the Prince of Wales. Little do they know, the wheels have been set in motion for a relationship which will change not only their lives, but the monarchy itself. Bucky and Tony strike up a friendship at Steve and Peggy’s wedding, a friendship that soon develops into more. But it’s not so simple: Tony is the Prince of Wales, and heir to the throne of Great Britain and the United Kingdom. Any relationship is played out in the press and public eye, and then there's that pesky issue of succession to consider too. But Bucky is no coward, and when he finds something he wants, he’s prepared to fight for it. And fight he will, at Tony's side, for their very own fairy tale ending.

#adi's rec list #buckytony #winteriron #bucky barnes/tony stark #bucky barnes x tony stark #bucky/tony #bucky x tony #i should create a tag for fic rec lists #this got sort of long so ive hidden some of them under a read more #that doesn't mean they're any less good though!!

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londonspirit · 3 years

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After the pandemic delayed its highly-anticipated release, the In the Heights movie is finally coming to very thirsty fans this Friday - and, to make the premiere even better, a special behind-the-scenes look at the movie is hitting bookshelves. In the Heights: Finding Home is a joint venture with Lin-Manuel Miranda, screenwriter Quiara Alegría Hudes, and Jeremy McCarter - it combines never-before-seen photos and oral history style-storytelling to take readers onto the Washington Heights set, spilling all sorts of filming secrets. Here, in an exclusive excerpt, read along as the cast battles record heat to complete the "Carnaval del Barrio" number.

Washington Heights is dense enough, and lively enough, to offer a distilled version of the New York paradox: Life is a nerve-fraying ordeal that you miss terribly as soon as it's gone. (According to local custom, people don't just double-park here, they triple-park.) Everybody knew that shooting a movie there would be difficult and expensive. But Jon [M. Chu, the director,] couldn't imagine doing it any other way.

For all of its fantastical touches-what Jon calls its "sing-to-the-stars-y" energy-Heights has always drawn power from its realism, a depiction of life as it's actually lived. The sweet spot for the movie, Jon felt, would be offering "a very truthful take on living in Washington Heights, then upping it."

In other words: No matter how fraught the process might be, the cast, the crew, and all of their gear-up to and including their fake sun in the sky-were going to spend the summer of 2019 in Washington Heights.

"The essence of a movie dictates where you shoot it," explains Kevin McCormick, a Warner Bros. executive who was integral to Heights. "And there's no way you could not have made this in Washington Heights. To have a movie about this community and not film there would be such a lost opportunity."

The first thing they did there was listen. Members of the production team, particularly Samson Jacobson, the location manager (born and raised in the area-a definite plus), and Karla Sayles, the director of public affairs at Warner Bros., met with community leaders to field questions and respond to concerns. Once again, Luis Miranda was a vital resource, drawing on relationships he had built over decades to make introductions.

The producers vowed to do all they could to limit the physical footprint of the shoot. Cast members shared trailers that they might otherwise have kept to themselves. The production hired people from the neighborhood for roles onscreen and off. Instead of catering every meal, they encouraged actors and crew to buy lunch in area restaurants. They even funded a student production of the show at George Washington high school.

What you see onscreen is a two-hour-and-fourteen-minute record of movie professionals falling in love with a place and its people. They arrived uptown to discover that Washington Heights really was different from most places in New York. Locals opened the hydrants on hot afternoons and played dominoes on the sidewalks. The piragüeros really did park their carts on the sidewalk to hawk their flavors of the day. The fascination seemed to be mutual: Actors got used to seeing whole families-little kids and their abuelitas-watching from their stoops at any time of the day or night.

Which is not to say that it came easily.

To Alice Brooks, the director of photography, the weather problems were "insane." If a storm popped up on the radar anywhere nearby, they had to suspend production. This happened with schedule-wrecking regularity. They expected to be free of such interruptions when they went underground to shoot "Paciencia y Fe" on the subway. Instead, they experienced a torment familiar to every New Yorker but with a twist: They weren't waiting for the train to appear so they could ride it to work, they just needed the garbage train to pass by so they could go back to shooting their movie.

The need to solve the endless riddles of New York filmmaking had led the producers to add Anthony Bregman to the team. At this point, he reckons, he's filmed in just about every corner of his hometown, always looking for ways to capture the authentic look and feel of a place-even when the movie is surreal. (He produced Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, a valuable point of reference for the reality-bending frame of Quiara's screenplay.) So he wasn't especially rattled when, on the night they filmed "Alabanza," a nearby building caught fire, or when, on another night, gunshots rang out nearby.

"You want the life of the city?" Anthony asks. "The life of the city is complicated."

The production lost valuable shooting time on both of those nights. They found ways to make it up later. But other days offered no second chances. Anthony remembers looking at the calendar before summer began, getting a feel for what lay ahead. Some days seemed manageable; some days seemed tough. Then there was "Carnaval del Barrio."

"That day," he says, "was impossible."

What turned out to be a defining episode in the whole long history of In the Heights almost didn't happen at all. Many a movie executive had suggested over the years that there wasn't enough plot in "Carnaval del Barrio" to justify a song that was very long and very crowded, which made it very expensive. But the song's power doesn't come from the plot, it comes from the theme. The characters rally one another's spirits amid a citywide blackout. They raise their flags and celebrate their heritage-and their humanity-in defiance of every force telling them not to.

That community-fortifying aspect of the song is "essentially the DNA of In the Heights for me," Quiara says. Beneath the joy, there's a legacy of struggle and resilience. " 'Carnaval' unearths that history. All we have is our fight to be here together, the testimony to our spirit."

To help ensure that the number would remain in the movie, she hooked it into the plot more securely, situating it as a farewell number for the salon ladies, who have been priced out of the neighborhood. But the budget wasn't the only limiting factor. "Carnaval" is unique in requiring virtually every member of the cast to be present at the same time.

The actors' complicated schedules meant that Jon wouldn't get all the filming days he wanted. He would get only one.

Which meant it was time for the hard, slow, unglamorous legwork of moviemaking: planning, organizing, rehearsing, designing, equipping, and rehearsing some more-months of it, all to give themselves the best possible chance to "make the day," to film the whole gigantic number in the time available.

In the world of making movies, "day" is a flexible unit of time, especially for a scene that would be filmed outdoors- in this case, a courtyard between two apartment buildings around the corner from where Lin went to preschool. They scheduled the shoot for a Monday, when union rules would let them start the earliest. And they picked June 24, one of the longest days of the year.

They didn't realize it would also be one of the hottest.

The song would be filmed more or less in order. Which meant that for the production, as for the characters, the salon ladies would lead the way.

Some of the movie's actors were new to musicals. Not Daphne Rubin-Vega, who plays Daniela. When Rent blew the mind of seventeen-year-old Lin-Manuel Miranda, she was onstage, playing Mimi. But when she arrived for hair and makeup on "Carnaval" day-at 4:30 in the morning-even she was feeling nerves. The uneven concrete floor of the courtyard wasn't like where they had rehearsed. The prospect of filming a seven-page song before nightfall seemed crazy.

She began to hear a voice of doubt in her brain, one that's encoded in a specific ugly memory. After wrapping her first film, she had gone to the airport to fly home to New York and mentioned to the woman at the ticket counter that she had just acted in a movie.

"That's funny," said the woman, who Daphne believes to have been Latina like herself. "You don't look like an actress."

Worries about how they looked, questions about what they were wearing, a general feeling of negativity-Dascha Polanco was feeling them, too. She always loved arriving on set to play Cuca, one of Daniela's fellow salon ladies, because it felt so much like coming home. She was born in the Dominican Republic and while growing up in Brooklyn used to make frequent trips to the Heights with her friends. ("Washington Heights is a small Dominican Republic," she explains.) Now she, too, wondered if she belonged. Am I capable of remembering the steps? she asked herself.

She decided to stop those doubts-for herself and the other salon ladies. She grabbed the hands of Daphne and Stephanie Beatriz, who played Carla, and formed the women into a profane prayer circle.

"Shake that s--- off," she told them. "I'm not going to let anyone or anything interfere with my performance today."

Daphne laughs as she tells the story. "She was so hilarious and said we were going to protect each other from that insecurity. That was such a beautiful thing-going in there with that determination to represent."

By 5:30 A.M., when the sun rose over Queens, sixty dancers had arrived. Christopher Scott, the film's choreographer, tried to prepare them for what was coming, backed by his full team of associate choreographers: Emilio Dosal, Ebony Williams, and Dana Wilson, as well as associate Latin choreographer Eddie Torres, Jr., and assistant Latin choreographer Princess Serrano. By six A.M., dozens of crew members had joined them, making the thousand careful adjustments needed to help a movie look spontaneous.

It was almost nine A.M. by the time Jon called "Action." The cameras started rolling, Daphne started singing, and the clock kept ticking.

Arrange the actors, position the cameras, do a take, reset everybody, do it again. As the sun climbed higher that morning, the temperature rose to what one crew member estimated to be nine hundred degrees. Look closely-see the sweat on people's bodies? Most of it didn't come from the makeup department. But there wasn't time for extra breaks to cool off.

"Please be quiet," a voice on the loudspeaker boomed at one point. "We gotta go."

At one point that morning, Jimmy Smits got his turn to shine. Playing Kevin Rosario wasn't his first Height experience. He had seen the show Off-Broadway and been "blown away" by it, he says. He had offered to help in any way he could, eventually recording a radio ad for the show.

His devotion to Heights carried into rehearsals for the film. As they got underway, he told Chris Scott and the choreography team, "I know I'm playing the dad, but the last thing I want to see is myself in the background, just waving my hands. I want to go all in." They obliged him. He sometimes hobbled home from the dance studio to ice himself for hours.

His payoff came on "Carnaval" day. He had a featured moment in the song: an intricate, whirling combination. The cast and crew watched him do it again and again, cheering him on. He could feel "a lightning bolt of energy" around the set, something he'd experienced only rarely in his long career.

Over the applause after one take, a voice rang out, ricocheting off the walls: "That s--- was crazy! For our ancestors!" It was Anthony Ramos. He, too, had a long history with Heights, but it wasn't as happy as Jimmy's.

Very early in his career, he had tried to get cast as Sonny on the show's national tour. It meant taking a bus into Manhattan from a gig he was doing in New Jersey, going through round after round of auditions. At last he made it to the big moment: a callback in front of Tommy Kail, Alex Lacamoire, and Lin himself.

He gave the song everything he had. He didn't get the part.

He thought he'd missed the one chance he would get to work with Lin, the writer who'd evoked Anthony's own world, Latino New York, so beautifully on a Broadway stage. He needn't have worried. A few years later, the same guys would hire him to originate the roles of John Laurens and Philip Hamilton, Alexander's son, in Hamilton.

When Anthony got to know Tommy and Lac well enough, he asked if they remembered not casting him as Sonny. They said they did.

"You weren't ready yet," Lac said.

Anthony knew he was right. "Only a homie would tell you that," he says.

But he needed one more break to make his way back to Heights and find himself sweating in the courtyard that morning.

In 2018, Stephanie Klemons, an original cast member of both In the Heights and Hamilton, directed a production of Heights at the Kennedy Center in Washington. The night before rehearsals were set to begin, she lost an actor to an injury. She reached out to Anthony: Could he step in with zero notice?

He didn't feel physically or mentally ready, and was about to pass, but decided to do it. That's how he got a second chance to show Lin what he could do in Heights-not as Sonny this time, as Usnavi. In a series of tweets, reproduced on this page, Lin commemorated how overwhelmed he was watching Anthony step into the role he once played. He, Quiara, and Jon all agreed that when the cameras started rolling, Anthony should be their Usnavi.

The bond between Anthony and Lin added to the drama of filming "Carnaval." Lin played Piragua Guy, so he was in the courtyard, too-or, rather, directly above it, on a fire escape. It meant that the whole cast and crew had a clear view of the brief duet that he and Anthony sing in the middle of the number. To people who knew their history, the sight made time go all swirly. Anthony had originated the role of Lin's son in Hamilton, and now he was playing the role that Lin had originated, and somehow the two of them were singing a duet in Washington Heights.

A quirk of the production process made the moment even stranger and more potent. All day, the actors had been singing along to prerecorded versions of "Carnaval" piped over the loudspeakers. But somehow they hadn't gotten around to recording Anthony's side of his duet, so they had to fall back on the only other version on hand: the Broadway cast album. Which meant that Lin wasn't just singing with Anthony that day, he was harmonizing with himself at age twenty-eight, when every bit of what was happening around him would have seemed like a ludicrous dream. "It was like time travel," Lin says.

By three p.m., when everybody had returned from their lunch break-blood sugar bolstered by the ice cream truck that Stephanie Beatriz had hired-time was growing shorter, the day hotter. Now when choreographer Chris Scott talked to the dancers, many listened with hands on hips, hands on knees.

From his fire escape, Lin did his bit to keep up morale. He joined in the clapping that broke out between scenes; he made silly faces; he pulled up his shirt and did belly rolls. Guests watched from the edges of the shoot: Lin's dad and wife, Quiara's sister, Chris's mom, Anthony's sister and mom. Anna Wintour stopped by.

Jon is not the type to direct through a bullhorn, barking orders from the shade. When they'd filmed "96,000" earlier that month on a couple of unseasonably frigid days, he had jumped in the Highbridge Park pool with the cast.

On this day, he darted around the courtyard, giving notes to actors, framing shots, conferring with Alice. He is also not the type to speak in mystical terms, but when he thinks back on that day, he remembers "the sun shining down like a laser-it was like the sun was shining out of everybody."

By late afternoon, the boundary between the make-believe world of the movie and the real world of the shoot had all but melted away. They had reached the part of the song where Usnavi and Daniela try to call forth their neighbors' pride in where they come from. Anthony climbed onto a picnic table and faced the whole cast, rapping, "Can we sing so loud and raucous they can hear us across the bridge in East Secaucus?" Daphne stood near him, arms wide apart, raising them up, willing everybody to stand tall, to keep going.

Both of them were throwing all their skill and commitment into their performances, the stars of two of Broadway's epoch-making musicals doing what they had trained to do. But they also weren't acting.

"To raise the flag for your country, to dance and recognize that we're all here together, and belong here, we don't need to be forgiven for it, or ashamed for it," says Daphne of what she was feeling. "There's a pride in being here from Colombia, or Panama, the D.R., Puerto Rico, Cuba, wherever."

At eight o'clock, with the sun sinking toward New Jersey, the dancers were still dancing. Eleven hours had passed since Daphne had belted out "Hey!" to start the song. Now Jon was trying to get the right take of sixty-plus voices shouting "Hey!" to finish it. In the movie version of the scene, the blackout ends when the song does, so a voice on the loudspeaker would announce, "The power's on!" That's how the actors knew the right moment to cheer that it was over.

After one such cheer, it really was over. Not just the take-the song.

They had done it. They had made the day.

Jon jumped into a swarm of dancers. (Ever see a baseball player hit a walk-off home run, then leap onto home plate into the waiting arms of his cheering teammates? That's what this jump looked like.) People were clapping and shouting and hugging and crying. Alice thought the whole thing was a miracle.

"You know when you see people at a concert cry, and you're like, 'I would never do that'?" asks costume designer Mitchell Travers. "That's what I did." He thinks it's the most sheer human energy he has ever been close to.

Anthony Ramos, in the middle of the crowd, launched into a speech. He can't remember his exact words. He hadn't planned what he was going to say-he hadn't planned to speak at all. He just felt that something needed to be said.

"I might have said, today we made history," he recalls. "This was for our ancestors who didn't get the opportunity to do this-who were fighting to have a chance to do what we just did. It was for love of the culture. It was for our kids, who look like us, to be able to see themselves on the big screen, to see us singing about our pride. Some s--- like that."

Somewhere in the crowd stood Dascha Polanco, cheering with the rest. She was sweaty, tired, tear-streaked-and beginning to feel the spirit move.

"I looked down and saw that concrete floor," she says, "and I saw those fire escapes up there, and I was like, 'New York.' "

She began a chant. It was slow and pitched low: "N-e-e-e-e-w York, N-e-e-e-e-w York." In seconds, the whole crowd took it up. "N-e-e-e-e-w York! N-e-e-e-e-w York!"

They were pointing to the sky. They were dancing.

"N-e-e-e-e-w York! N-e-e-e-e-w York!"

"It wasn't like chanting, 'Oh, I love New York,' " Anthony says later-meaning it wasn't a casual thing someone would casually say. "It was"-he drops his voice an octave and leans in-"I motherf---ing love New York. I'm proud to be from New York. I'm proud to be Latino from New York. That was the chant."

Lin, on his fire escape, was overwhelmed. Quiara, in the courtyard, guessed that people could hear them all chanting for blocks around. "It was the sound of joy and survival," she says. "And the sound of people who were really proud to be artists in community together-all our stories braided and interwoven at that one moment."

The long months of preparation had yielded the thing that movie people dream of creating: the burst of real emotion, the flash of genuine spontaneity. Some of it infuses what you see in the finished version of the song, but some of it can't be recovered now. It's an experience only for the people who got to be part of that impromptu celebration, the carnaval that followed "Carnaval."

That long day and its joyous finale capture, in miniature form, a lot of the Heights experience-what's powerful about it, what's rare. Instead of expecting little from the actors it featured, Heights demanded everything-not just what they could do, but who they were and where they came from. By fusing them with dozens of other artists making the same commitment, it gave them the feeling that Lin had wanted so badly for himself when he started writing the show: a sense of belonging, of being part of a group of people working toward a goal they all hold dear. That's why Anthony, looking back on filming "Carnaval," says, "That was one of the greatest days of my life. Period. If I never do another movie again, I did this."

"Something that arises in 'Carnaval' is a feeling of, 'There's a place for us,' " says Quiara. "But the place is not one that says, 'Oh, I definitely fit in' or 'I definitely don't.' It holds those questions. It allows those questions to exist."

Those questions, she has come to see, are universal.

"People are like, 'What is my place in the world?' That question is actually part of your place in the world," she says. "There's something about In the Heights. It takes such a burden off to hear, 'Yeah, there's a place for you. Here it is.'"

#in the heights #ith movie #in the heights - the movie #spoilers #ith spoilers #sorry - super long post #long post #but I needed the whole text here because it's fucking BEAUTIFUL #and I don't want it to vanish!!!#carnival del barrio

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joochansimp · 4 years

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Wanted | Chapter 1

> synopsis: a ‘vampire knight’ inspired fic in which the human reader goes to a prestigious university, home to both humans and vampires. she catches the attention of a group of vampires and chaos ensues. > genre: fantasy, angst, fluff, uni, very crack & au. also very indulgent lol > pairing: readerxjuyeon, readerxrowoon, readerxseonghwa, readerxjaehyun (it is complicated... KJSDHFKSJ) (also more pairings/characters might be added later) > warnings: descriptions of blood, mild wounds, memory loss, manipulative behaviour sometimes. > words: 3.5k

You took a deep breath as you entered the building that would be your home for the next seven years of your life. Your stomach was filled with excited jitters, though a part of you was anxious. You didn’t really know what you were in for—everything you knew about Sagong Academy, and many other private academies of the sort, was that it was prestigious and that a lot of freshly graduated highschoolers from all over the world wanted to get in. You also knew that it was dangerous. How could it not be when the school was home to vampires?

You hadn’t met a lot of vampires in your life. Statistically, most vampires got turned between the age of 18 and 30, so you had never gone to school with one. There wasn’t a way of telling whether someone was a vampire or not, since they were able to walk around in the sunlight and physically looked the same as humans if they chose to, so unless they openly showed their nature, they were disguised.

When you stepped into the school building, however, you realised it was going to be very easy to keep the humans and vampires apart.

‘’You must be one of the first years,’’ a cheerful boy beamed at you as he walked over, holding out a folder. You nodded and took it, already taken aback by his demanding presence. He was wearing an all-white uniform: neat dress pants that were cuffed at the bottom, a white dress shirt, a white blazer and white shoes. The only things that weren’t white were his tie and some lined details on his uniform, which were a soft, warm orange. The girl next to him was wearing a uniform that was mostly the dark grey color of the boy’s tie, with a grey skirt, shirt, blazer and shoes, including the lined details that mimicked the boy’s uniform. Her stockings were the only fully white items, each having two orange lines at the top.

‘’I’m Changmin, second year student representative of the human house. This is Gahyeon, she’s the second year representative of the vampire house. If you have any questions, we’re the ones you can talk to. What is your name?’’ he asked, looking down at a clipboard as he waited for your answer.

‘’Y/N,’’ you told him, quickly getting used to his fast paced and quirky presence.

‘’Ah, right here,’’ he said with a smile as he crossed your name off of the list.

‘’You’ve been paired up with Lee Jeno, table fifteen in the auditorium,’’ he said, pointing his pen to the left.

‘’Thank you,’’ you smiled at him, then made your way to the auditorium. You already knew the school was wealthy, but seeing the grand building in all its glory, both on the outside and inside, made it all the more real. Golden details on the walls and furniture, marble floors, and the three story high ceiling in the auditorium all showed off how exclusive the school was.

Rows and rows of tables were situated in the large room, and you walked around as you looked at the golden rimmed disks with numbers on the tables. At table number fifteen a dark haired boy sat, who was looking around, looking like he was carrying around about the same amount of nerves as you were. You walked over and cleared your throat, and as you caught his attention he got up from his seat.

‘’Hi, I’m Y/N. I’m supposed to sit at this table with you,’’ you introduce yourself, bowing at the boy. He quickly got up and bowed back, a friendly smile on his face.

‘’Nice to meet you, I’m Jeno,’’ he replied, sitting back down, and you sit next to him.

‘’This place sure is big, isn’t it?’’ he said as you both looked around the room.

‘’Definitely,’’ you agreed, your gaze falling on the back of the room, where a low stage was situated. Some people, whom you assumed were teachers, were standing on it, talking to each other as they waited for all the first years to arrive. You weren’t much of a talker and it seemed like Jeno wasn’t either, which suited you just fine. You preferred to get adjusted to a place and new people before completely opening yourself up, so you took this time to take a good look at the people around you. They were all either wealthy, or scholarship students like yourself, you assumed.

At exactly 9:00 the doors to the auditorium closed, and the staff gathered on the stage. You recognised Changmin and Gahyeon among them. A man stepped up to the microphone, which stood in the center of the stage, and the sound of people talking died down.

‘’Welcome to Sagong Academy. On behalf of the staff, we hope that you will find your stay here educational, enlightening and comfortable. If you have any questions after today’s introductory gathering, please do not hesitate to ask our student representatives,’’ the man said, motioning to a group of six students, including Changmin and Gahyeon. ‘’During your first lessons tomorrow, you will be introduced to them on a more personal level.’’

The speech was long, though anything but boring. Classes were divided between day and night. Vampires didn’t really need to stay inside during the day, but their nightly lifestyle was what worked and what was most convenient. The day and night classes would be mixed during breakfast and dinner—as vampires did in fact eat ‘’regular’’ food next to drinking blood—and during leisure time. During lunch however, night class students would be catching sleep, whereas when you went to bed at night, that’s when the night students would have their classes and their respective lunch. More small details about how things went around the academy were told, until the principal started to call out students’ names, and the dorms they would be staying in.

‘’If you would please follow the student representatives to the dorms. Classes start tomorrow morning at 8:00. Once again, welcome to Sagong Academy.’’

Everyone started clapping, then the murmur of excited students took over. You got up at the same time as Jeno did and you made your way to the groups that were forming.

‘’I’ll see you around,’’ Jeno said to you, to which you smiled in reply and nodded.

‘’Yes, seeya.’’

You walked to the girl who was holding a card that said ‘’1C’’ on it, which was the dorm number that the principal had mentioned when he called your name. You joined the group of girls and waited until the student representative started to walk out of the auditorium. Your group followed, the exited murmurs still hovering in the air, as you walked through the building to the west wing. The girls around you were talking way too excitedly to pay any attention to you, which, once again, suited you just fine.

You arrived at the dorm with the 9 other girls in your group, and gathered around the student representative.

‘’My name is Yoohyeon and I’m a fourth year student of the vampire house,’’ the student representative introduced herself.

‘’You’ll share this dorm room among the ten of you, the main common room out there is used by all human students, though you are allowed to spend your free time anywhere else in the building, except for the vampire dorm rooms. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask.’’

She continued talking about practical things, like the school uniforms—which were apparently waiting for you on your bed, and information about classes. Your attention really got caught when she started talking about the feeding procedure.

‘’We have to what now?’’ one of the girls piped up.

‘’Donate your blood,’’ Jayeon repeated without blinking. ‘’Humans donate their blood to the vampire students, no less than once a month, no more than two times a week. Only closely monitored and safe amounts at a time, of course. You can decide how many times you want to do it. If you have medical issues, arrangements can be made, of course. You can speak to the school nurse about that.’’

You had heard about donating blood, though a part of you always thought it was just a rumor. Having it confirmed like this made you even more nervous than you already were. The other girls once again broke into excited whispers, and after Yoohyeon took her leave, you picked a bed and unpacked your luggage. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to not feel too homesick. The next few years sure were going to be interesting.

‘’Ah, fresh blood.’’

Juyeon joined Rowoon by the window, both young males now looking down at the groups of first year humans spreading around the courtyard. It was rare to see vampires out and about during the day, simply because most didn’t like to surround themselves with potential triggers. And also because many felt like they were above humans.

‘’Anyone caught your attention yet?’’

‘’Not really. We’ll see, though, once donations start. Think you’ll become a regular this year?’’ Rowoon asked him in return.

‘’Nah, I’m sticking to synthetic for now,’’ Juyeon shook his head. ‘’You know I’m not good at selfcontrol.’’

Rowoon just chuckled softly in return. He remembered all too well how Juyeon had nearly sucked a poor girl dry during one of his first donation sessions. After that the school nurse urged him to switch to synthetic blood for the time being, so he could get used to blood before he learned to control his thirst. Most vampires learned within a few months of transitioning how to resist taking more blood than they needed, but some required a little (or a lot) more time and effort than that.

‘’Well I’m not sticking to synthetic—I can’t wait to try out the newcomers,’’ San smirked as he joined the two older students by the window.

‘’You know it’s going to be at least a few weeks before you get to feed from the vein, right?’’ Rowoon arched an eyebrow at the newborn vampire.

‘’Sure, but it’ll fly by,’’ he said optimistically.

They turned as the door to their common room opened and one of the student representatives entered the room.

‘’Ah, Jaehyun. How was the introduction?’’ Rowoon asked, now walking away from the window.

‘’Interesting. I spotted a few potential recruits, but we’ll have to see,’’ he said with a light shrug.

‘’How about donors? Any with good scents?’’ San pressed, clearly still in the first phase of vampirism, when the hunger was at its peak.

‘’A couple exceptional ones,’’ Jaehyun confirmed with a nod. ‘’I’m sure there will be an argument or two about who gets to request who during donations.’’

Though not usual, it was possible for vampires to request specific humans for blood donations. Since different vampires had different tastes and every human student had to donate blood, there was always plenty of blood for all vampires, but some of the night class students had developed preferences. As some students chose to become vampires after their first year, like San had, some vampires had to make do with the remaining humans and newcomers.

‘’Will your fourth year finally be there year where you drink human blood, too?’’ San asked Jaehyun.

‘’No human blood for me,’’ Jaehyun replied with a shake of his head.

‘’Why not, you were the only one who didn’t struggle when that human girl got a bloody nose in the courtyard last school year,’’ San inquired.

‘’That’s exactly why; I don’t need to satisfy my craving. Synthetic blood works for me and I prefer not to tempt myself when I don’t have to.’’

‘’So mature of you,’’ Seonghwa noted, who had been leaning against one of the many windows in the room, listening to the conversation. Jaehyun chuckled softly at his remark, knowing that the blonde vampire was just teasing him, which was confirmed by the smile on Seonghwa’s lips.

‘’You should try it some time, you might like it.’’

‘’I highly doubt that,’’ Seonghwa said, turning up his nose at the idea of giving up real human blood to the synthetic crap that Jaehyun and Juyeon drank.

‘’Anyway, if you want to get rest before classes tonight, this is the moment,’’ Rowoon announced as he walked to the room of his dorm. Though vampires didn’t really need to sleep, or eat regular food for that matter, both of these things helped with suppressing their ultimate craving for human blood, so most vampires spent a few hours a day resting in bed at least.

‘’I should. See you guys tonight,’’ Juyeon said, following Rowoon to the spiral staircase that led up to the different dorm rooms..

‘’Boring,’’ San sighed, flopping down on the black leather couch in the middle of the sitting area.

‘’Don’t be a baby. Things will soon get interesting around here,’’ Seonghwa said with a wink, before averting his gaze to the courtyard. Very interesting.

‘’Welcome to your first class at Sagong Academy. I am your homeroom teacher, as well as your Ethics teacher, Mrs. Byeon. Please do not hesitate to ask any questions, should you have any.’’

‘’When will we start having to give blood donations?’’ someone asked immediately. You could see that Mrs. Byeon was ticked off by the sudden question, even though she just said questions were welcome, from the slight clench of her jaw.

‘’Actually, your first ones will be made today. You’ll be escorted to the donation wing by one of the student representatives assigned to this class shortly.’’

Even though the subject had been touched upon several times now, nobody had explained how the blood donations actually worked. Did you simply have to sit in a chair while a nurse stuck a needle in your arm so a vampire could suck the blood out of you with a straw?

You shook your head, trying to practically shake the image out of your head, as it made your skin crawl.

When Changmin entered the class with his signature smile on his face, Mrs. Byeon dismissed the class. You grabbed your bag and got up, following the second year student with the rest of your classmates. It was nice walking around the building, as it helped you get to know the place better, though you were sure that you would get lost at some point. You noticed that not only did the human students’ uniforms differ from the vampire uniforms, yours being white and theirs grey, but the lined details came in different colors too.

“They represent what year you’re in. Mine are orange, for second years. Yours are red, which means first years. Third years are yellow, fourth years green, and so forth, all up until the seventh year,” Changmin explained, looking back over his shoulder after you had asked him about it.

‘’Here we are,’’ Changmin said, entering a large room. In the middle of the room stood a large desk, behind which three school nurses were working. Throughout the room were white leather couches with soft looking pillows, some of which were occupied by other human students. Along the left wall of the room were five doors, all of which were closed, and all with a bright red light bulb above them.

‘’Those are the rooms in which the donations take place. If the light bulb is on, it means that the room is being used. The nurses will tell you when it’s time for you to enter a room. You can choose to keep the light on or off inside the room, depending on what makes you the most comfortable. A vampire will bite your neck—don’t worry, their teeth are so sharp you’ll hardly feel anything—and with the use of a blood pressure monitor the school nurse will be able to keep track of your health. Though don’t worry, vampires know exactly when to stop and most choose to do so before it gets unpleasant.’’

You wondered why he would include that last bit of information, as it instantly made you nervous, but you realised that he probably had to mention it as a disclaimer.

‘’The most important thing is to relax. You’ll get used to it, and after a while it’s nothing to be nervous about at all.’’

As you waited, you watched some of the students coming out of the donation rooms. They looked fine, as far as you could tell. They all had a small band aid stuck to their neck, and the nurses handed each of them either a piece of fruit or a cookie, to get their blood sugar level up again.

Seeing the students act so ordinary after giving blood, you felt a little bit calmer. There was nothing to worry about, surely if this was a normal thing here at school, accidents were unusual. Right?

You were about to tap Changmin on the shoulder to ask whether a student had ever died during a donation session, when one of the nurses called your name.

‘’Door number two, please,’’ she smiled, motioning to the second door on the left. You gulped and got up, smoothing out your white skirt, and made your way to the door. You opened it and slowly stepped inside. The room was smaller than you expected, though not any less beautiful that the other areas you had been to so far. There was another door on the wall across from you, the doorframe and knob the same shining gold as everywhere else in the building. In the middle of the square room was a comfortable looking stool with a rich red cushion on it. A small table on the side held a small bottle of water, a few band aids, a wristband of some sort and what seemed to be an instruction card on it. You stepped up to the table and picked up the card.

Please drink at least a small amount of water before donating.

Please place the wristband around your wrist firmly, though not so firm that it cuts off your circulation. The light on the wristband should be green.

When you are ready, please press the red button next to the door frame.

Please take a seat on the stool (facing the door you entered through) and await instructions.

You put the card down and took the bottle of water. You weren’t sure what a few sips of water would do for the blood donating experience, but it helped a little bit to calm your nerves. You took a few gulps, then put the bottle down again and took the wristband. You put it around your wrist, then tightened it so that it sat comfortably against your skin. After a few seconds a small green light on the wristband lit up. So far so good.

You looked at the red button next to the door you entered through, and hesitantly pressed it. You then stepped to the stool and climbed up on it, sitting with your back towards the other door. You took a deep breath and waited for the instructions.

‘’Please choose: lights, on or off,’’ a slightly robotic voice asked you. You hesitated. You weren’t afraid of the dark—you were actually pretty comfortable in it. Though did you really want an unknown vampire feeding from you for the first time in the dark?

‘’Please choose: lights, on or off,’’ the voice asked you again.

What was worse, being fed on by someone while being able to see their face, or not?

‘’Off,’’ you decided, still unsure of your decision. Right now, you’d rather not be confronted with the face of the person who would have your life in their hands for the next few minutes, and having to face them afterwards around school. Especially since you didn’t know whether you would freak out or not. What if it hurt and you screamed? What if they didn’t stop when you started to get dizzy?

The light turned off and you nearly held your breath awaiting what would happen next. A small amount of light entered the room as the door behind you opened and someone entered. The door closed again and you were engulfed in darkness. You expected someone to greet you, or at least say something to indicate that they were there, but it remained quiet. Your body tensed and your heartbeat quickened. They surely wouldn’t just bite you out of the blue, would they? Not only would that be rude, but it would undoubtedly ruin the whole experience for you, scaring you for each and every following time you had to donate—

Your train of thoughts got cut off when you felt someone brush your hair to the side, gently pushing it over your left shoulder, exposing the right side of your neck. You shivered lightly at the sudden touch, even though it was ever so soft. You could feel the person behind you inch closer and… you could have sworn that they sniffed at you.

The tip of their nose brushed lightly against your exposed skin, making you shiver once again. Your heart was beating rapidly and they had hardly even touched you yet.

‘’Hmm…’’ the person hummed softly, the first thing they had said to you at all, if you could even call it ‘saying’ anything.

‘’Nice to meet you, princess.’’

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soulvomit · 4 years

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I’m realizing what some of my writing block is. This is why I’ve decided to only write *adult market.* I can’t write YA. I can’t even write for people who want to read YA. The narrative demands of an audience that wants everything to be Young Adult, are like handcuffs. I can’t write within those boundaries, I just can’t. I can’t even write for people who read Adult then get mad that it’s not YA. I can’t write even for younger readers of erotica. I can only write for people with roughly my same level of social experience who are coming from the same place, who don’t require their characters to be moral paragons, or who want to read something that is coming from a different place emotionally, or... for that matter... young people who prefer to read older work. Long winded diatribe about some of my more difficult, culturally incorrect romantic narratives I’ve written, as an example of this problem. In case you’re not going to read behind the read-more, no, I don’t write incest or pedo. (Doesn’t mean I won’t write a character who has experienced this if it comes up, I haven’t yet, but who knows. But I don’t write positive portrayals of it. I feel I need to write this disclaimer here.)

Looking at my writing - I have some scenes I’ve written that are very passionate. It’s basically an OC fanfic type of scenario, it’s writing I did that spun off of a game setting my characters were in for a very long time, about two characters who later ended up married. (And I often do this when game groups fall apart, I start writing about my characters.) It’s some of my best writing, and I’ve often thought about filing the serial numbers off and cannibalizing this for some totally original setting. In the piece I’m looking at, the characters haven’t jumped each other’s bones yet, but there is a strong attraction between two lonely, unattached coworkers that is growing into... outright longing. These are middle aged divorcees with children. They have navigated love and lust before. They have been adults at this point for a long time. They are both sexually experienced (her, in fact, much more than him). It’s clear that they utterly want to rail each other from dusk to dawn until neither one of them can walk. Much of this is from the point of view of the male character. (And I LOVE writing het from the male point of view; it’s one of my favorite love/sex dynamics to write.) They’re definitely conscious of this attraction and in their private thoughts that I’ve written, before the attraction is consummated, there’s definitely “strong crush” energy. These are experienced, sexually mature, middle aged people who are both divorcees with children and they definitely are guessing correctly about the other person’s attraction and interest. They’re imperfect people: they’ve made bad life choices in the past. They’re equals, but it’s never *explicitly pointed out.* He’s a hypermasculine (but not toxically) and badass warrior type, she’s an engineer. She is older than he is, but that never matters and never comes up any more than the fact that I’m 6 years older than my fiance, ever comes up in our relationship. All four of us are *middle aged people* and it is just not a topic of conversation. Another thing that’s “eh” by YA standards is that The thing with how I portray and read erotic or romantic stuff, is that I am an older, experienced person, and I like stuff about older, experienced people. People who already know how to navigate these situations and don’t necessarily need everything spelled out. The thing is, I almost feel like - because of changing sexual mores - I can only write for people over 40 unless I totally rewrite the way everything goes and even the emotional temperature of their early relationship. Even though it’s very clear that my characters are absolutely mutually into each other, and it would be clear to any experienced person who navigates body language, I would have to navigate a whole new set of mores around having to outright spoonfeed my audience - we are really into tell don’t show now, we are really into long winded prefaces to everything explaining how everyone involved is really a good person, and I notice that there’s so little comprehension of nuance or subtlety now, things have to be spelled out, one character reading another person’s body language and flirting at a subtler level would be considered gross and against the present day’s mores around consent. My characters ultimately end up making out and going to bed and they never, ever talk about it and they never process it. The establishment of consent is very, very brief and amounts to one middle aged horny person basically saying “wanna fuck” to another middle aged horny person (personally, my absolute favorite way to start a relationship, that’s how my current and best relationship started, 10/10 highly recommend) and, 12 hours later, the other person pulling them into their hotel room. It’s the kind of establishment of consent that you would’ve seen in an older work and it’s not a particularly complicated dance. I didn’t write this work for public consumption outside of a handful of people and perhaps if I did, maybe I would have written it differently because I’d have to assume that “show don’t tell” doesn’t work on audiences who don’t read nuance, I don’t know. Also, in the lead up to the two characters doing the do, they totally sexually objectify each other in their heads. They think about how much they’d really, really like to pounce on each other. And this is... objectifying, or something. I always portray consent but there’s never a complicated ritual around it. I don’t enjoy writing that. Also, I really enjoy writing and reading stuff with spontaneous passion. I LOVE stuff where it’s even a little over the top.

But the big thing that seems to have changed? The big social more? It feels like you’re not really allowed to show your characters crushing too hard, or desiring too much. They’re certainly never allowed to have frustrating desire or one-sided attractions. (I’ve written lots of those. How the character acts on it or doesn’t, is going to depend upon what type of character I’m writing. I have a couple of one sided best friend crush types of dynamics that I’ve written, usually it’s same sex and incompatible sexual orientation.) Characters are not really allowed to be horny and there seems to be a general disgust with horniness. Which is difficult to navigate because I love horny work, about horny people. I love stuff about crushes and frustrated limerence. Also? I even love forbidden romance and forbidden sex and sometimes, and even characters doing things they’re Not Supposed To Do. (I think this is why so many people in my age group are into crime fiction, stuff about illicit affairs, etc.) I have the standard legal and moral limits, but yes I will even read about characters cheating on their spouses. It doesn’t mean I condone what the character is doing or want to do it, and it’s satisfying to see how the situation resolves. (It has to have consequences or it’s just not believable.)

But even age differences between grown ass adults and massive social differences don’t bother me. I love reading and writing common and royal, rich and poor, people from forbidden and different social worlds.

I’m presently writing something in which a young (but adult) witch is married to an immortal god, and finds out she’s one of millions of his brides through history, and hundreds in the present time. And she is going to stay married to him because that’s part of, in my world, being the type of witch she is. OF COURSE there’s a power difference because HE’S A GOD. The story also spends a lot of time with her as a child, because I write CRADLE TO GRAVE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT. I love to spend a character’s entire life with them, from the time they’re born to the time they die. But leaving that aside. The sweetest and most tender romance I’ve ever written, involved a sad 50something man and a 25ish year old woman. I was in my 20s when I wrote this. I had lived with the male character in my head for a long time and knew him inside and out. I was delighted when I realized that sparks were flying between him and another character, I’d lived through this character’s life story and its long history of unhappy self-sacrifice, and I decided to follow to see where it led... and it was delightful! I decided to let him have the happy ending. He deserved it after all of this time. She was the initiator of the relationship. She’s in love with him. He is a widower who’s lost everything and now he has a chance to rebuild his life and start a family with this new person. She has other suitors but wants him. She gets pregnant. But it’s narratively a blessing. She wants him, she wants their child, and he’s delighted (especially since his late wife and child are dead), it’s a matrilineal culture, she and the child will stay on the land with her family after he dies. This is a blessing for him. They’re on her family’s land and he’s an exile with no home. She is NOT a Literal Child; she is a grown-ass adult with her own agency, who is sexually experienced, and who has born a lot of responsibility, and is in a prominent social position. His existence is at the mercy of her family, though they keep him around because of his knowledge and abilities. He is the one who doesn’t initiate the relationship, because he’s conscious of the age difference and feels like an old fool, and worries she’ll tire of him one day. Who has the power? Also, he’s a “fish out of water” from another (completely fictitious) culture who ends up totally living among, and assimilating into, this new culture, and basically living out the rest of his life among them, with his bride and their children. And that’s something that isn’t supposed to happen, right? (Writers whose characters just show up in their heads, will relate to this. I don’t even pick my characters’ love interests.)

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ozkamal · 3 years

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Wisdom notes1. It’s not who you are underneath it’s what you do that defines you 2. Stop living other people’s stories and start writing your own 3. We are all gonna die, not all of us get to make a difference 4. Just cause you know you are capable of something doesn’t mean it has to happen again 5. Every weakness contains within itself a strength 6. Why do we fall? So we can learn to pick ourselves back up. 7. In order to be what we are, we have to come out of what we are not 8. It’s not the size of a soldier in a fight, it’s the size of the fight in a soldier 9. some of the best things in life are by accident 10. you can lose to your enemy, but you must not lose to fear 11. if your looking for revenge, you should start by digging two graves 12. sometimes the scars you can’t see are the ones that hurt the most 13. sometimes the rain must fall for us to appreciate the sun 14. train yourself to let go, of everything you fear to lose 15. a man does not cry because he is weak, he cries because he has been strong for too long 16. not everyone can be trusted, even your shadow leaves when your in the dark 17. don’t trust anyone too much, remember the devil was once an angel 18. you didn’t fail, you just found out, eg:100 ways how not to make a light bulb 19. I failed over and over, that’s why i’m successful. 20. it isn’t what you got in life it’s what you make of it 21. people do not despise the thief who steals to satisfy himself when he is starving 22. a mans loyalty is tested when he has everything. a woman’s is tested when he has nothing 23. you have to be odd to be number one 24. trust takes years to build and yet only seconds to break 25. never regret a single thing that made you happy 26. make the plan, execute the plan, expect the plan to go off the rails, throw away the plan. 27. don’t be afraid of losing people, be afraid of losing yourself trying to please everyone around you 28. when we stop checking the monsters under the bed that’s when we realise they were inside us 29. sometimes she’ll keep you down but also somehow be the one to keep you up 30. From strangers. to friends. to being together but then back strangers but with memories 31. it hurts a lot when she breaks up with you. and gets together with someone else really quick... it just don’t feel like she cared, but sometimes you gotta let fate take you by the hand 32. you lost interest so fast.. my world ended before it even started 33. you can love somebody just by being attached. see loyalty is a action u can love or hate me but u still have my back 34. as dr seuss said, “i always knew looking back on the tears would make me laugh. but i never knew looking back on the laughs would make me cry 35. sometimes it’s hard to know what haunts you more, the memories of her, or the memories of how happy you used to be 36. it’s not that your life sucks, it’s just you done want to think that it doesn’t 37. love never ends, it’s the strength to try that does 38. silence can be just another word for pain 39. not everything lasts forever, people change, people grow apart. don’t force anything 40. absence makes the heart grow stronger 41. it ain’t about how hard you can hit.. it’s about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward. How much you can take and keep moving forward, that’s how winning is done 42. tomorrow is never promised 43. the most painful thing isn’t a cut or a broken bone, it’s seeing memories slowly become memories 44. better to have a short life doing what you love, than a long life living miserably 45. when a man loves a woman she becomes his strength 46. pay close attention to the people who don’t clap when you win 47. if your the smartest person in the room then your in the wrong room 48. a great future never requires a great past 49. everyone is the hero of their own story 50. the only time you should look back is to see how far you’ve come 51. there’s four things you can never get back, the word after it’s said, the moment after its missed, time after it’s gone and trust after it’s lost 52. they say you never knew what you had until it’s gone.... truth is, you just never thought you’d lose it 53. think of it like this, it hurts to let go... but sometimes it hurts more to hold on 54. out of all the things we learn in school, no one teaches us how to love ourselves 55. there comes a time in life, where you realise that nothing will ever be the same. And you realise that from now on, time will be divided in two parts, before this.. and after this 56. it takes absence to value presence 57. it’s not about the happy ending, maybe it’s about the story 58. it’s crazy how after so much, you become strangers again 59. words may sting, but silence is what breaks the heart 60. sometimes it’s not the person you miss, it’s the feeling you had when you were with them.. 61. in life there’s the people that tear you down, and the ones that build you up. but in the end, you’ll thank them both 62. you know a million words won’t bring them back, and you’ll know because you tried, neither would a million tears, and you’ll know... because you cried 63. the worst feeling is never being lonely, it’s being forgotten by someone, you’d never forget 64. you’ll realise how you waste so much time on certain people, but in the end sometimes they weren’t worth a second of it 65. there is always going to be some truth behind every “just kidding”. some knowledge behind every “i don’t know” emotion behind every “i don’t care” and pain behind every “it’s okay” 66. being happy is a very personal thing and it really has nothing to do with anybody else 67. don’t let something that’s long gone, control you. it’s time to let go 68. it’s amazing how one day someone walks into the life, and suddenly you don’t know how you every lived without them 69. someone once asked me if i knew you a million and one memories flashed through my mind.. but i just said i used to 70. at the end of the day, your not always gonna say and do the right things. and that’s fine, your not here to be perfect, your here to be real 71. going back to a relationship is like rewatching a movie, and hoping for a different ending 72. the worst kind of sad, is not being able to explain why 73. Life is the most difficult exam. Many people fail because they try to copy others. Not realizing that everyone has a different question on their paper 74. the difference between, like, love and in love is the same difference between, for now, for a while.. and forever 75. everyone can make you smile, but not everyone can make you happy 76. the most difficult part of moving on, is accepting the other person already did 77. it’s sad how the people you were once so close with. can become just another person you don’t know, not their just a stranger with your secrets 78. one day someone will break you so bad.. you will become unbreakable 79. you can close your eyes to things you don’t want to see, but you can never close your heart to things you don’t want to feel 80. if you think photos aren’t so important, wait until they’re all you have left 81. giving someone another chance, is like giving them another bullet, because the first one missed 82. the truth is.. we don’t mature with years, we mature with damage 83. consider how hard it is to change yourself, then you’ll realise what little chance you had in changing others. 84. everyone has a story, and everyone has something that changed them. so never judge someone by the chapter you walked in on 85. in life sometimes there is no next time. No timeouts, no second chances. sometimes it is now or never, things change, friends leave. and life doesn’t stop for anybody 86. can you remember who you were, before the world told you who you should be? 87. it’s sad how you can go from speaking to someone non-stop, to never speaking to them again, in an instant, it’s like you could have just stayed strangers 88. it’s important to realise you can miss something, but not want it back 89. your current situation, is not your final destination 90. it’s never to late to be what you might’ve been 91. you start with such a simple hello, but end with such a complicated good bye 92. in order to move on, you need to understand why you felt what you did, and why you no longer need to feel it 93. telling the truth and making someone cry, is better than telling a lie.. and making someone smile 94. it’s not the goodbyes that hurt, but the flashbacks that follow 95. some would say people who say it is what it is are dangerous, i say those people have just been hurt to the point where they no longer care 96. if you don’t go after what you want. you’ll never have it. if you don’t ask, the answer is always no and if you don’t step forward, your always in the same place 97. live today the way you want because nothing else is more real than the moment you have in your hands 98. people come and go, but life is simply about... seeing who cares enough to stay 99. one of the most messed up things the world will ever do to you, is let you meet the right person. at the wrong time 100. apologise for your mistakes not your feelings

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skvaderarts · 3 years

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Hiraeth Chapter 14: Affirmation

Masterlist can be found Here!

Chapter Fourteen: Affirmation

Note: Sorry this chapter is a few hours late! I live in that part of Texas where all the bullshit is going on with the power. Woke up the morning to a $50 electric bill FOR ONE NIGHT. My apartment is only 1100 square feet. The bill was $12 the day before that. Let that one sink in. But anyway, this is one of my favorite chapters so far! Very exciting stuff! I hope you like it!

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A gifted storyteller is capable of drawing their audience in. They are adept at holding a certain level of intrigue and suspense, forcing their audience to pay attention, lest they miss something crucial and ruin the experience for themselves. An inexperienced or lesser storyteller bored their audience or drove them away, serving as nothing more than a momentary distraction from the usual pace of their everyday lives. But under this very specific set of circumstances, no one present was sure where to place the experience they’d just suffered through.

Each of them felt a great sense of conflict deep within themselves as they considered each and every word that they’d just heard. It was a strange and unsettling course of action, one that made them desire to do nothing more than curl up and withdraw from the subject at hand. They believed every word that they’d just heard, but they couldn’t tell if that was a good or a bad thing, especially when it came to the subject of the story that they had just been told. The fact that he was both the narrator and the main focus of the experience meant that it was entirely believable, but completely unfathomable, like a destiny nightmare that none of them wanted to look in the face. That would make it too real; give it too much power over them. But regardless of their stance on the matter, it had happened, and it did affect all of them to some varying degree.

V had always possessed a certain gift for speech, despite the fact that he wasn’t a man of many words. His tone, cantor, and temperament combined with a keen intellect and a nearly flawless combination of memory and repertoire meant that he was perhaps the most engaging person that they currently knew to talk to. But that entire combination became the absolute worst thing that someone could experience the moment that V decided that he needed to get the traumas of his past off of his chest and into the open air. After all, V was exceptionally strong-willed in regards to his emotions. When something affected him deeply, it tended to be negative, and it was almost certainly beyond the scope of what any of them wanted to know about. But if he was willing to give them a glimpse into his world, then they wanted to take the opportunity to peer inside and take in every bit of information that they could.

None of them really knew what to say when he seemed to reach the end of his horrifying tale of sadness and pain. Every word that he’d spoken had carried such a strong hint of anguish, terror, or apprehension that it made it physically unnerving to listen to, but as much as they now wished that they could take back the experience, they were grateful that he’d decided to share it with them. It put a lot of things into context that none of them had been able to understand before, and despite the fact that certain aspects of his life would now haunt them for the rest of time, they felt better for knowing them.

Was it possible to be grateful to someone for telling you something that you’d have been happy going your entire life without knowing? Because if it was, then they were. But if they weren’t, then would that make them too immature to comprehend the suffering of someone so near and dear to them? Was it selfish to desire ignorance while assuming that they were strong and powerful and possessed the necessary strength and tenacity to recon with such an experience, but simply chose not to in order to spare themselves the suffering that one who deemed himself weaker than them had already survived? Was that entire line of thinking too philosophical for a matter that was both so very complicated but oh so simple? None of them could say anything at the moment, so they didn’t say anything. They simply waited to be sure that V was either done talking, or that he was waiting for them to say something, anything to break up the tense silence that had settled across the snow like a blanket soaked in glue.

And after a while of waiting in silence, totally unsure as to what to do next, Vergil decided to break the silence between them. He’d never been one to follow the lead of others, and he sure wasn’t going to start now. And as far as the concept of taking the time to feel the weight of his words upon those who he’d directed them towards, he didn’t feel he had the time to waste. A direct approach was required in a situation like this, especially when there were so many questions that had been raised during his time speaking that could dissipate from his psyche like so much fog after a storm as a result of his prolonged wait. He had felt an intense desire to not interrupt V, owning to the fact that he feared that if he was stopped, he would love his nerve and decide that he didn’t’ wish to speak on such matters after all. But now that he was at least somewhat sure that his eldest son was done talking for the time being, he was ready to start asking questions. Best to catch him before his threshold for conversation was exceeded and he shut down like an engine in disrepair.

“...You said that you desired to pick a random direction and leave. Why?” Vergil adjusted his posture in his seat, his head coming to rest against his palm as his elbow planted itself firmly in the arm of the chair and the devil slayer in blue crossed his legs. It was all that he could do for the time being to placate the murderous rage that he felt brewing in the very back of his subconscious. Never had he desired to end the lives of so many people that he’d never met before. “And for that matter, where did your travels take you after that? Was the end result desirable?”

The young while haired summoner in black afforded himself a moment to ponder his father’s question before responding, unsure as to what to say. On its surface, it was a simple enough question. Vergil had no way of knowing how deep the answer had the potential of going. And it was a good question at that. It seemed that his father desired to simply take what had happened as an unwavering fact and build off of that, taking the time to let his mind settle before venturing forward. He believed him and didn’t seem to desire to question his motivations for doing anything that he’d done, respecting his capacity to make his own decisions. Or maybe even respecting the decisions themselves. He couldn’t be sure just yet. But there was a part of V that couldn’t help but wonder what Vergil might do with the information afforded to him now that he had so much time on his hands.

“It was something that I was accustomed to by that point. Something familiar when nothing else was. I’d spend the better part of my youth going back and forth to new and unknown places in the hope of a better outcome. But I learned quickly that while many things changed as you went from place to place, people largely stayed the same. And the problems that came with them only reset to start anew.” V grew silent, his eyes wandering across the room towards Nero. He sat quietly on the couch towards the right corner, twiddling his thumbs in complacent horror as though what he’d just heard had probably changed him in some profound way, or at had at least his perception of his older sibling in a substantial way. It was a stark contrast to Dante, whose uncharacteristic silence, thoughtful posture, and calm atmosphere mirrored his older twin’s in a way that was as fascinating as it was unsettling. V didn’t know what to make of it. “As for the end result of this particular expedition… well, it led me directly to you. It took a few years, but the result was worthwhile, I think. I was lucky enough to be taken under the wing of a group of outcasts, and I spent a substantial amount of time traveling and performing with them, only to end up in Redgrave City the night that you happened upon me. I was out for a walk when we happened upon one another on that street corner, and everything that has happened since has been nothing short of extraordinary. And harrowing. Especially that.”

The Darkslayer tilted his head to the side, leaning back slightly. “I take it that you do not remember much of what occurred that night, then. Perhaps that is for the best. The end result was, as we all seem to agree, undesirable. Though it was never my intention for my actions to lead to the consequences that they did, they did so regardless.” He seemed to consider his next statement for a moment before speaking, V’s retelling of his farrowing ordeal weighing on him in a way that he was not accustomed to. Oh, how things would have been different should he have been there. How the tables could have turned in their favor. But despite his best intentions, Vergil was more than aware of the fact that there was little that could be done about what’s he’d missed in his past. There was, however, a substantial amount that he could, and would do now. “Saddling you with a death sentence as soon as I discovered that you were alive after all was as far afield from what I intended as it could possibly be, but it happened anyway. Things never seem to go according to my plans. But I can only imagine that that may be due to my pension for creating them without taking every variable into account, and for not having all of the relevant information in the first place.”

Dante felt tempted to point out that Vergil had essentially just apologized to V, but he decided to leave the matter be. There would be time enough later. For now, he was going to take in the scene before him and silently contemplate his overall role in the situation. Though to say that the same part of him that felt somewhat responsible for Nero’s suffering as a child didn’t yearn to have been able to do something more for V would be a lie. Financially unstable as he was and always had been, he would have taken them both in without a second’s pause if given the opportunity. They would have all benefited greatly from having someone, anyone to call family. At least biologically.

V seemed to take his father’s words to heart. He’d been in situations of his own that lent themselves to the same vicious pattern of failure, regret, and sacrifice. It was what had led him to become the person that he now was. But he didn’t know Vergil’d particular brand of suffering, and he hoped that he never would. Although he could be mistaken, he was willing to believe that there was a part of Vergil that did in fact long for the time in their lives that he’s missed out on. The Darkslayer didn’t come off to him as the kind of person to willingly walk away from something so integral to him. Maybe it was time to get to the heart of the matter. After all, things couldn’t really get any more uncomfortable, could they?

“The vast majority of us do not plan for or wish for the consequences of our actions to play out in the way that they do, father, but that does not change the fact that we must account for them, accommodate them, and answer for them regardless of our desire to do so.” V crossed his arms loosely, making eye contact with Vergil in a way that unnerved both him and everyone else present. Something had shifted in V’s demeanor, and it was evident to anyone who spared a look at him. It was as if a certain level of inhibition had fallen away from him and he felt the freedom to say something that he’d always wanted to; the confidence to be heard and understood. “If I could have planned out every little detail of my life, it would have played out significantly different. I would not have spent my youth bounced back and forth between numerous orphanages. I would never have voluntarily chosen to be able to see the things that I was able to see. And I most certainly wouldn’t have undergone the extensive and invasive mental evaluations that I was forced to undergo out of the fear that I might actually be as insane as everyone around me seemed to collectively assume I was. But unfortunately, that is now how things went. But I can say for sure that I am done running from them. Whether I face them down or flee for my life, I will still have to do battle with them, so I might as well face my fate on my own terms.”

Nero and Dante gave one another a surprised look, the eldest of the two shaking his head as if he were physically trying to shake off how surprised he was. His eyes widened slightly as his eyebrows raised, seemingly taken by surprise as he lingered on the gravity of what V had just said to his father. As far as V’s normally sedate and polite tone and manner of speaking went, he’s essentially just put Vergil in his place and given him a piece of his mind, and the eldest Son of Sparda hadn’t said anything to correct him. Perhaps he was just impressed with the nerve he’d just demonstrated? Or perhaps it was something more substantial? It was hard to say when it came to his older twin.

Vergil leaned forward, giving V an unflinching piercing look as he seemed to dwell on his words. He half expected V to flinch or turn away, but he didn’t, and there was a part of him that was admittedly genuinely impressed by his eldest son’s sudden shift in tone. Something had seemingly clicked for him that hadn’t before, and it was evident for anyone present to see. For lack of a better way of putting it, after recalling such a harrowing experience, V just seemed utterly done with being at the mercy of his enemies, and it was time that he did something about that.

But there more to his statement than that, at least from where Vergil stood. V had just done something that he was confident that his son had never done before. He’d addressed him as just that: his father. In all the time that they’d spoken prior to that moment, V had been, for the most part at least, nothing but polite and upfront with him, but he’d never said anything that indicated to him that he was willing to verbally claim him as his father. And at that moment, he’d finally done so. Vergil hadn’t realized how much he needed one of his children to do that in a sincere way. Nero had called him as much before, but this was different in some way. There was no anger behind the abjection; no ulterior motive or thinly veiled layer of something secondary. No, it was just as simple as that. As simple as a son addressing his father as exactly that in a moment that told him that he was indeed making some headway with his sons. And as far as Vergil was concerned, he didn’t think that it was possible for him to be more internally pleased about that revelation than he already was. And although he hid it well, there was a part of him that was deeply touched by something that simple. For the first time in a long time, Vergil didn’t know how to take a statement that had been given to him at face value, and it was an incredible thing to behold.

“You have something you want to ask, don’t you? I can tell. Come out with it then. You’ve come this far in regards to expressing your desires. Why stop now? What is it that you truly wish to ask me? Because I can tell that there is indeed something that you desire to make known, and we only have so much time.” Vergil broke eye contact with V for a moment to turn his attention to Dante, his intention to speak with both of them clear. It seemed that his message was something universal between the four of them, a topic that none of them wished to approach, but were going to have to at some point. “It could be substantially less world-ending than you might imagine. Take it from someone who is less… adept at doing so when it actually counts.”

Dante didn’t miss his identical twin’s message. Neither did Nero or V for that matter. Though they were all equally taken aback by it, they were willing to absorb the context of it and accept that there was some truth to it. They did in fact all need to find a way to express their true thoughts and intentions more clearly with one another than they had been, regardless of the strides they’d made so far in regards to improving their communication with one another. Going forward, this was their chance to do something meaningful. They needed to seize it.

V looked at Vergil for a moment, his posture and overall demeanor softening significantly as he suddenly looked tired. It was different from how he usually seemed when he was in such a state, more emotional than physical. Talking about what occurred had drained him in a way that he was not accustomed to, and it showed, but he knew better than to simply give in and allow his inhibitions to get the better of him. Maybe he should just ask as his father had suggested? At this point, what could it hurt?

“I want to know why you didn’t know I was alive. And I want to know why I’m able to see the things that I can see. I’m willing to believe that it is… abnormal for a child to be able to do what I was able to do, even by the standards of our family.” V went quiet for a moment, blinking rapidly for a moment as he suddenly felt a rush of emotion that he couldn’t’ quiet place. “And I want to know if you would have come looking for us if you had known. What you would have done.”

The demon slayer in blue’s posture changed slightly. It was something that Dante picked up on more than the rest of them did, something that Vergil didn’t generally do. Even under the most extreme circumstances, Vergil never slumped, not even a little. Or at least, he’d never seen his twin brother do so. It was almost unnatural how such a small thing unnerved him. A quick look in Nero’s direction was all it took to see that he was watching the situation intently, seemingly invested in Vergil’s answer. Dante repressed the urge to sigh in discomfort. The stakes were high this time.

“Please. Don’t’ say something you’d normally say for once, Vergil. Just this once. This really isn’t the time to do that to them. Put them down gently if you have to. I don’t think that they are in the mood for that right now. Even if it’s the honest truth.”

Much to his surprise, Vergil looked over at him for a moment. It was as though Vergil had heard his younger twin’s thoughts. While his facial expression was largely unreadable, they both seemed to know at that moment what Vergil was going to say, it made them equally uncomfortable. Vergil, because he knew the truth, and Dante because he was almost certain that he didn’t want to. Nothing in the blue devil’s life was ever simple or good in that kind of way, and something told him that there would be repercussions for this one.

“Bold of you to assume that I didn’t look for you, V. I did. For countless hours in countless places until every just started to blend together into an amalgamation of all the ground I’d already tread before then. During the pursuit of what I’d lost, hopelessness set in and brought the bitterness that I’ve carried with me for so long with it.” Vergil paused for a moment, his eyes drifting over to Nero. This was not the kind of conversation that he could leave his youngest son out of, no matter how much he wanted to. There was no delicate way to put what he needed to say. All he could do was hope that they took it the way he meant it, and not in the way that they were entitled to. But that was their prerogative and their privilege, if one could even call it that. “And then somehow I looked up and I was in Fortuna. And I met her. And then I arrived in Redgrave City a lifetime later only to find that perhaps the only time I truly allowed my grief to consume me that the very person who had sought to comfort me in such a state had been left in a truly regrettable state as a result. And so had the result of our one fleeting night of passion.”

Vergil realized quickly that neither V nor Nero were truly able to take in the severity of what Vergil had just implied, or the fact that he’d been so open and honest with them about something he had tried so hard to keep buried deep within himself. A heavy sigh betrayed his true emotions, as did the sad, sly smirk that ghosted his face for the fleeting moment that he’d been unable to contain it.

“I find it almost genuinely ironic that I managed to get myself into this situation twice without realizing it. I never considered myself unintelligent, by my actions certainly lend to that conclusion. Much as the horror of my existence has led to the trauma and pain that paved the dark path that I walked in solitude for the majority of my life, the regret I have caused and have left behind has been all that I have left in my wake.” He faced them all, accustomed to even attempting what he was doing at that moment. Vergil wasn’t entirely sure he recognized the actions that he was taking as his own, but he accepted the reality and the truth behind them nonetheless. This was long overdue, even if it was something that he truly didn’t know how to reckon with. But V’s words about the reality of taking responsibility for the consequences of one’s actions had resonated with him, and he could no longer deny that. “It is almost humbling how much I truly regret the depth of the suffering I’ve caused, and for that… I am sorry. There is more that I could have done that I did not, and I can only hope that it brings you some small measure of satisfaction knowing that it will eternally haunt me.”

For the first time in what felt like ages, Nero shook his head, a troubled look on his face. He couldn’t even begin to put into words how Vergil’s confession affected him, but he still felt the need to get something off of his chest. He had a lot of questions, but he knew he’d get to the root of them eventually. For now, he needed to say something that he now realized he’d needed to say for a long time, and he just hoped that it wasn’t too late. The things he’d experienced that day had affected him deeply in ways that he could never have imagined when they’d boarded the train to Lucia’s house. It was enough to physically give him whiplash.

“No, that doesn’t bring us satisfaction. Were not sadists. I mean, you might be but… More suffering isn’t going to bring any of us that. I’m pretty sure we’re all tapped out by now.” The short white-haired devil hunter sighed, unsure as to how to take the number of eyes that were on him at that moment. He wasn’t shy, but that didn’t make this any less awkward. It seemed that he wasn’t the only one accustomed to him being this serious. “Look just… fix it, okay? We both know you can. All of us do. You just fucking suck at forgiving yourself for literally anything you do, and it really shows. Stop kicking your own ass so hard, and start fixing the shit you broke in the first place. That’s our job. Nothing’s gonna change otherwise, ya know?”

Both V and Dante looked Nero up and down for a moment as though he’d been replaced by another individual that they didn’t recognize. While they shared his sentiments, they were still shocked to hear Nero be the voice of reason among them during such a heavy conversation. Maybe they had written him off too soon as a lost cause in that regard. Vergil nodded in agreement, a single barely noticeable gesture that carried a weight that he himself wasn’t entirely privy to. He would try as he had done with everything else that he had committed himself to in the past. It was all he could do. And he could only hope that it would be enough.

Just as they were attempting to figure out where they needed to go from there, the door swung open with a surprising amount of force to reveal none other than Nico. She was covered in a grey substance that looked like dust or ash, and a look of both shock and excitement adorned her face. She was practically jumping up and down in glee at whatever she’d just seen that had led to her returning so suddenly. The four of them shared an apprehensive look before turning to see what had captivated her in such an intense manner.

“Oh, for fucks sake! What the hell did you do this time, Nico?! We don’t live here!” Nero started before Nico hushed him, pointing over her shoulder towards something out of sight behind her. A resounding boom that carried both a strange sonic tone and a defining shake followed closely behind as if he’d triggered it just by willing it into existence. Now she had their attention. How had they not noticed that something more was going on? Had they been that focused on V’s retelling of his tragic and harrowing ordeal?

“Listen here, shit for brains. That is why I’m here.” She turned back towards the open door, gesturing for the four of them to follow her. “Get off your buts, grab your weapons, and follow me. You’ve got to see this!”

The baffled descendants of the Dark Knight Sparda all looked at one another before silently objecting in some way shape or form and then obliging her. At the very least, they needed to see what she was talking about. And by the sounds of that boom, it sure as hell was something. One could only hope that it was worth their time. And Nico rarely disappointed them.

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Phew! That was an awful lot, wasn’t it! I like these long chapters though. And I especially like writing them after I have to deal with stupid stuff. Serves as a great distraction from the reality of the fact that I still live in this capitalistic hellhole. But that’s neither here nor there. I hope to see you in the comics! And as always, I hope you had a good day! I’ve had a few people use the form already, but I’d love it if you went and checked it out! I’ve compiled quite the list! See you in the comment section! Bye-bye!

#V #Vergil #Dante #Nero #Devil May Cry #Hiraeth #Vitale #Post Devil May Cry 5 #Fanfiction #Devil May Cry Fanfiction #DMC #DMCV

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