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sunset-embers-warriors-designs · 4 years

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I have several ideas about how I would have written Starclan’s function in warriors and I MUST write them down I must express them. I have two different ideas, one in which I maintain the canon fact that Starclan cats can fade/be killed, and another in which I do away with the fading thing.

First, a few things I would want for Starclan regardless of whether or not the spirits can fade:

- All cats, regardless of the age they die at, are given a full warrior name. Kits or apprentices who die early are either named by their leaders at their vigil and carry that name to Starclan, or they’re named by Starclan spirits.

- After a leader dies, the -star suffix is removed and they return to using their warrior suffix as a Starclan spirit. Perhaps the -star suffix is given up right at the moment of death, or the -star suffix is given up after the leader ceremony of the succeeding leader to indicate an official transfer of leadership.

- The point behind everyone having a warrior name in Starclan as opposed to any of the “determined by status” suffixes (kit/apprentice/leader) is to further express that all cats are equal in Starclan. There aren’t any clan borders in Starclan’s hunting grounds, and neither should there be different ranks.

No Fading Starclan:

- Cats in No Fading Starclan are given otherworldly wisdom upon entering Starclan, regardless of the age of the cat. All of Starclan shares the same knowledge of the past/present/future.

- However, this knowledge takes a form such that Starclan aren’t able to express it to the living in clear and understandable ways, which is why they speak in riddles when delivering prophecies. Like Starclan is trying to translate some kind of language of the universe into meows and at most it does like a google translate quality.

- Individual Starclan cats each have a limited amount of spiritual/magical energy which they can use to interact with the living world. The longer the clans all exist, the more manpower Starclan has, which explains why their abilities from arc 1 to arc 4 grow from “clouding over the moon during gatherings” to “entering the living realm to fight a ghost battle.”

- Similarly, the Dark Forest spirits have their own kind of energy that grows the more cats they have in their realm. However, as a punishment for their sins, they don’t get their godly wisdom, and their ability to reach out to the living is a little foggy. They ARE, however, able to latch on to cats who have negative energy surrounding them, and will try to bring troubled souls into their ranks prior to their deaths so they can gain more energy when those cats DO die.

- In this AU, spirits can’t be killed, so the Starclan/Dark Forest battle ghost casualties (Tigerstar, Hawkfrost, Spottedleaf) will not have died. Instead, the buildup to the battle is the Dark Forest attempting to take power from Starclan by reaching out en masse to the troubled living cats with the end goal of “replacing” or at least being on par with Starclan in terms of power, in order to maybe fight their way into the good afterlife or continue reeking havoc as revenge on Starclan/the living. The battle itself is then the Dark Forest’s attempt to overthrow Starclan and gain control over the living clans to ensure they stay in power. Ivypool’s role of convincing her fellow Dark Forest trainees to fight for their clans/Starclan instead then takes away the power the Dark Forest had built up for itself, and having this rejection of the Dark Forest’s influence become a part of the clan’s history/culture keeps the Dark Forest from rising back up. Not to mention, the Dark Forest having used to much energy to manifest and do battle will have left them drained, especially after their defeat, and even if Dark Forest cats have the ability to replenish their individual powers somehow, it would take a long time to do it.

- Spottedleaf continues to exist, as previously mentioned, but as a general rule in every single one of my AUs she and Firestar aren’t romantically interested in one another at all. The only interest Spottedleaf would ever have had in Firestar was because the “Fire Alone Will Save Our Clan” prophecy was Her prophecy, she was the one to interpret it, and she felt responsible to see it through even after her death. When Firestar dies in the battle, Spottedleaf feels that her role in that prophecy is finally through and she just does regular Starclan cat things like climbing starry trees and eating ghost mice.

- In the case of the great battle, spirits who have manifested on the physical plane I think should still have the ability to kill the living, so the deaths in the great battle still happen just for the sake of being consistent with who’s alive in what arc.

- Also regarding the great battle, perhaps Tigerstar’s spirit can kill Firestar’s mortal form, gloat about it, but then Firestar’s spirit rises up and with his Starclan Spirit Powers he takes Tigerstar down. I just think that would have been cool.

Fading Starclan:

- In Fading Starclan, there are actually two levels of Starclan, but the living clans only KNOW about one. The living clans know Lower Starclan, the Starclan made up of recently dead/not-faded spirits who impart the prophecies onto the living. Lower Starclan are Also recipients of the prophecies they then translate to the clans, but they don’t fully understand them and believe these premonitions to be coming from some essence of the universe.

- In fact, the prophecies are first foretold by Upper Starclan, which is made up of the energies of the faded spirits. Upper Starclan spirits, since they’re faded, lack the identities they had in life and are more accurately interpreted as a hivemind. Like a God with a million faces. Upper Starclan are the ones who block the moon with clouds, control the weather, and do stuff like set fires in the living world to impart prophecy.

- Lower Starclan functions more like a transitional spiritual plane. It’s a place for the spirits to rest from their mortal lives, and then eventually shed their previous personalities and ascend. Lower Starclan being given the prophecies first to then give to the living gives the living cats more reason to listen, because these messages are coming from spirits who are still personable and likely cats who the living interpreters knew and respected in life.

- The Dark Forest is a place to hide away the spirits of cats who would impede on the goals of Upper Starclan. They eventually fade away too and are permitted into Upper Starclan because they’re no longer a threat without their mortal memories/personalities getting in the way of their roles as God(s).

- The Tribe of Endless Hunting’s spirits also fade away into Upper Starclan because the two groups have the same origin. Like Endless Hunting and Lower Starclan manifested because of the split in the groups and Upper Starclan just said “Okay We can work with this”

- True Reincarnations only occur when an Upper Starclan spirit returns to a mortal form. Jay’s Wing, Lion’s Roar, and Dove’s Wing’s spirits had all faded into Upper Starclan but were reborn as new mortals in order to fulfill the Power of Three Prophecy. This also explains why they have “the power of the stars”, they were part of the Cat God Collective prior. Cinderpelt/Cinderheart was a “reincarnation” that was NOT sanctioned by Upper Starclan, which is why Cinderpelt and Cinderheart have separate souls.

- The reason the Power of Three thing happened was because Upper Starclan saw their Dark Forest Timeout corner spirits being naughty and worried that those spirits weren’t as out of the way and not hurting their goals as previously presumed. The battle was orchestrated to reinstate faith in Starclan and have some of the more troublesome Dark Forest Spirits fade so they would stop causing trouble. Technically, Tigerstar, Brokenstar, and Hawkfrost are all part of Upper Starclan after the great battle, but none of them have those identities anymore, or at the very least, those identities are not “in use.”

- The only spirits that can walk in Both Upper and Lower Starclan are legendary/historical figures like the clan founders and probably other significant cats who have legends made of their life experiences.

- Goosefeather, by some mistake or intention(?) was granted a mental connection to Upper Starclan instead of just Lower Starclan like other medicine cats, which is why his visions were so intense and so far into the future, and just the sheer number of them. He could see Lower Starclan spirits as well like Beetail because I guess if you can connect to Upper Starclan than Lower Starclan is just a side effect.

- Spiresight and Shadowsight might also have this connection to Upper Starclan? Idk I can’t decide. Shadowsight did as a kit at least, but perhaps Upper Starclan decided to chill after seeing how poorly Goosefeather’s connection turned out for him.

- Upper Starclan’s concept otherwise is very vague. Their goals seem to be to ensure the continuation of the clans, which ensures their growth and power, but power for what reason? idk what to do with that

Since the Broken Code arc isn’t complete at this time I’m not sure what direction I wanna take for either Fading or Not Fading Starclan to explain Starclan’s disappearance or Ashfur’s ability to mess with other spirits... perhaps in the Fading version, Ashfur is the one Lower Starclan cat to discover Upper Starclan and figures out how to tap into his full spiritual ability before shedding his mortal personality and uses this to cause chaos. idk what to say for Not Fading rn tho

#warriorcats #warrior cats #warrior cats headcanon #warrior cats au #starclan #power of three #omen of the stars #the broken code

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caffeinatedseri · 4 years

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The Significance of Sunsets

We’re introduced to the significance of twilight during the Cannibalism Arc via the Tripartite Tactic.

The essence of the Tripartite Tactic supports 3 core themes of BSD: moral ambiguity, the cyclical nature of life, and the beauty of humanity.

First, the Tripartite Tactic establishes the moral balance of the BSD universe through the government, PM, and ADA’s interactions with one another to ensure the balance of Yokohama.

Day and night are binary opposites, similar to how the government and mafia operate on opposite sides. That would imply that the government and mafia are always at war with one another, working to bring the other down, but the Tripartite Tactic suggests otherwise.

Both the government and mafia’s survival are necessary to secure the balance of the city, just like how day and night, good and evil have to coexist in a state of balance.

However, there is a middle ground that bridges these opposing concepts together: twilight — as represented with the agency.

As the evening acts the neutral point from day to night, the agency acts as a morally neutral organization between the government and mafia. They don’t necessarily abide by the laws and rules of “justice,” but they still work to establish a semblance of “good” in this world.

We’ve seen the government act in suspicious ways, we’ve seen the mafia act in good natured ways, and we’ve seen the agency do both of the sort. Even though the government and mafia are supposed to represent “good” and “evil”, the fact that they break these molds serves to once again prove the moral ambiguity within the BSD universe.

Twilight also symbolizes another important idea — the cyclical nature of life. As the passing period between day and night, it represents the end of a day, which will always lead to the start of a new day.

This cyclical nature lends itself to a feeling of hope that drives the journey of redemption — the hope that the night will pass and a new day will begin encourages our characters to persevere and hope for something better.

Cycles also show themselves through character interactions throughout the generations.

Mori abused Dazai → Dazai abused Akutagawa → Akutagawa abused Kyouka, In this case, the cycle of abuse is born (although it fortunately stops at Kyouka).

In parallel, Oda helped Dazai → Dazai helped Atsushi → Atsushi helps Kyouka, For this, the cycle of redemption is born.

As twilight is a time for sunsets, sunsets are an inevitable motif for these themes. The arrangement of colors in the sky, characteristic of a sunset, tends to evoke feelings of awe or admiration for the beauty of such sunset. The beauty of a sunset symbolizes an appreciation for the beauty of humanity, aligning with the theme of accepting human nature as is. (think Dazai)

Keeping in mind these 3 aspects: moral ambiguity, the cyclical nature of life, and the beauty of humanity, the significance of every scene with a sunset becomes more prominent.

Sunsets in BSD always appear at important points of the narrative, with my favorite being:

This scene’s significance is primarily Dazai’s transition out of the mafia as represented through the light shining through the window — as if light is being shined on the darkness that had surrounded his life.

This scene happens to be one of my favorites because it touches upon all three themes that the twilight-esque light represents.

Moral ambiguity: Oda knows that Dazai doesn’t care about justice or evil, or defining aspects of morality, so Oda argues Dazai should work for justice. Oda doesn’t try to argue that justice is morally correct, but he simply says it is “better” in an extremely vague way.

The idea of Dazai joining the side of justice with no strong moral conviction opens up the concept of moral ambiguity. Is it important for him to have a moral code if he wants to find the purpose of his life? Can he help others if he doesn’t believe it’s the “right” thing to do? Does it matter?

Most importantly, does saving others whilst not believing in the standards of morality place you within the boundaries of justice or evil? Or are there no such defined boundaries?

Cyclical nature: Oda pushes for Dazai to save people, instead of killing people, mirroring the actions of Natsume-sensei who helped Oda come to that same resolve. This starts the cycle of Dazai helping Atsushi, Atsushi helping Kyouka, and hopefully Atsushi getting to help Akutagawa as well.

This scene also reflects the idea of the “end of the night”, or the start of a new day as Dazai abandons the PM, and starts anew in the Agency.

Beauty of humanity: PM Dazai was arguably the most “inhumane” version of Dazai that we’ve seen, due to his heavily logic driven intellect and distrusting tendencies.

However, in this interaction with Oda, we finally see his humanity shine through. Oda gives no reasonable, straight-forward explanation as to why Dazai should leave the mafia, but Dazai follows his advice regardless because of their trust.

The ability to trust and love, an innate part of human nature, can be seen as foolish from the eyes of the logic-driven, but ultimately that’s what makes being human beautiful.

I admit the last scene may have been a little vague with whether the setting was actually a sunset, but this one is more obvious!

This takes place after SSKK’s fight with Francis, and they regroup with Dazai, Fukuzawa, and Kyouka.

Cyclical nature: As the finale of the Guild Arc, the sunset represents the end of a day and the start of another as they close this chapter of their lives. It also parallels Dazai’s “redemption” scene, as Kyouka finds her redemption in sacrificing herself for others and becoming part of the agency.

Just as Oda was able to help Dazai in the previous scene, Dazai is the one who tells Kyouka exactly what she needed to hear in order for her to survive and find a home in the agency.

Beauty of humanity: Being human means to be compassionate, and I’d argue that Kyouka was uncompassionate in the past, just because no one had shown her what compassion was like. However, Kyouka grows from that — with the help of Atsushi and Dazai showing her empathy and kindness, she’s able to reciprocate that feeling and be willing to give up her life for the sake of others.

Dazai also praises Akutagawa for a short moment in this scene, which is also an act of compassion from Dazai although Akutagawa deserves more than that.

This scene follows the party at the end of the Cannibalism Arc, as Dazai and Atsushi have a nice heart-to-heart.

Dazai’s toast here is technically an anime-only moment, but obviously all of the sunsets are anime-only. Regardless, I’ll be discussing his entire talk with Atsushi here, along with the toast.

Moral ambiguity: Akutagawa’s promise to not kill anyone for 6 months mirrors that of Oda — a mafia member who doesn’t kill. By doing so, he directly challenges the morality involved with being a mafia member (what would be “bad”) and breaks away from the black and white labels of “good” and “evil.”

If we followed the code of justice, presumably the morally “right” way, then it would dictate that Akutagawa would need to be punished for the crimes he committed. However, Atsushi’s decision to form that promise with Akutagawa gives him an opportunity to grow and redeem himself, even if Akutagawa fits with the “evil” label.

Akutagawa and Atsushi are obviously foils — they’re different in almost every way, which you could use to define Atsushi as the hero and Akutagawa as the villain, but it’s undeniable that they also share many similarities. As the line between “good” and “evil” blurs, moral ambiguity is developed.

Cyclical nature: Once again, this scene closes out the Cannibalism Arc, with the sunset symbolizing both the end and beginning.

Atsushi’s promise with Akutagawa parallels that of Oda’s dying wish to Dazai; they’re both founded on the basis of trust, and they push towards a brighter future for Akutagawa and Dazai respectively. Thus, the cycle of redemption repeats itself once more.

Dazai’s “To the stray dogs” statement also parallels his toast with the Buraiha trio (Dazai, Ango, Oda). It could be just a callback to Oda, but it also expresses Dazai passing on the toast to Atsushi, from one stray dog to another. Nevertheless, this still represents a cycle of actions in which the previous generation affects the present.

Beauty of humanity: Dazai toasting to Atsushi with the phrase “stray dogs” offers a sense of compassion and hope. Dazai and Atsushi have undoubtedly grown closer to one another throughout the entire series up to this point, so it makes perfect sense that Dazai shows that he cares by sharing a piece of his past with Atsushi.

Toasting directly to the stray dogs implies a celebration of sorts for these dogs, who are stray but ultimately not alone. The toast is indicative of a hope for a better future whilst also acknowledging how one can feel lost in life (and how that’s okay).

Atsushi’s promise with Akutagawa also serves as an attempt to teach Akutagawa the beauty of humanity, since Atsushi believes that Akutagawa doesn’t see the value of life (which is preventing him from getting Dazai’s approval). I would argue that it should be the other way around, but Atsushi has good intentions here.

After Atsushi discovers the death of the Headmaster of his orphanage, Dazai gives some comforting advice.

Moral ambiguity: Atsushi struggles with his conflicted feelings towards the Headmaster’s death, which is perfectly understandable.

The Headmaster can’t be defined as completely good or completely bad, because he did impact Atsushi’s life in a way that led him to where he is today (once again, no definitive black or white answer as to whether that’s good or not).

Atsushi struggles with the thought that he has to pick whether to feel glad or upset, in order to fit within the neat labels of black and white, happy and sad. In response, Dazai (the definition of a morally ambiguous man) simply says:

Although Dazai says “There’s no one who can fully grasp the deepest feelings of another person,” in the anime, I think the meaning of that is better stated in the manga. Dazai reasons that he can be both glad or upset, his feelings can be mixed, and there is no clear cut answer for how to feel (as Dazai only gives a general piece of advice).

Cyclical nature: Dazai’s statement, “when someone’s father dies, they tend to cry”, could honestly be interpreted in a multitude of ways.

Dazai’s reference to a father figure suggests that this “father” is simply a person who impacted their life greatly and made them who they are today. (since both of their fathers are unknown).

Following this definition, Oda is the father figure to Dazai in the same way that the Headmaster was to Atsushi. Although their methods of “helping” Dazai and Atsushi differ very drastically, the same cycle of this “father” figure impacting the life of their metaphorical son repeats.

Oda giving advice to Dazai, and Dazai giving advice to Atsushi is also another cycle — the cycle of reaching a hand out to someone in need. (which is the more sensical of these two conclusions)

Beauty of humanity: Dazai’s ability to be compassionate truly shines in this scene and shows just how much he’s grown from his time in the PM.

In contrary to PM Dazai’s unfeeling self, Dazai is able to empathize with Atsushi on a personal basis; just as the Headmaster was a integral part of Atsushi’s past, Oda was the same for Dazai.

Dazai’s growing ability to understand others demonstrates his willingness to grow more accustomed to human nature, and love it for what it is.

Atsushi’s confusion in dictating what he should feel also speaks on the nature of humanity; his feelings don’t have to make sense for him to feel them. In fact, the more illogical his emotions are, the more human he is.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd meta #bsd analysis #bsd dazai #bsd atsushi #bsd kyouka #just me gushing over how much i love sunsets #there are many more sunset scenes that i didnt cover hmmm

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

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Tedious Joys - Chapter 8 - END

- Ao3 link -

“You’re not going to like what we’ve decided,” Lao Nie said.

Lan Qiren could have guessed that from the way that the other man had marched into the room and promptly used Lan Qiren’s thigh as a pillow, primarily, Lan Qiren suspected, because he didn’t want to have to look Lan Qiren in the face.

It was a common tactic of his these days. The Nie clan had always been inclined towards tactile behavior and a certain lack of personal boundaries – personal information was too much to share, but apparently bodies were free game – and Lao Nie had very quickly transitioned from embarrassment to taking advantage of his newfound dependency on regular physical contact with Lan Qiren. Much to Lan Qiren’s relief, they had managed, with some experimenting and considerable effort on all parts involved, for Lao Nie to form a bond directly with the jade pendant. Now, as long as he carried the pendant, he was able to be by himself for a shichen or so without experiencing any degradation in his mental state – and that, in turn, enabled them both to separate and allowed them both some measure of privacy.

Unfortunately, after that shichen was over, Lao Nie would begin to become irritable and irrational again, his eyes slowly becoming bloodshot as the rage and resentful energy contained now wholly within him, rather than in the jade – in Jiwei, rather – began to need to be excised. Exercise and cultivation with a heavy training saber helped slow the effects, as did Lan Qiren’s musical efforts to calm and clear his mind, but Lao Nie’s cultivation was simply too high for it to last for very long. It was as if half his meridians had vanished overnight and yet he continued to cultivate as he did before; it was as if his dominant arm had been abruptly cut off, and yet he instinctively continued to try to do everything he previously could. He needed his saber to complete even a standard circulation of his qi, and short of suppressing his spiritual energy entirely (another experiment that met with some limited success, getting them another two shichen of time apart if they really needed it, but which was not a long-term solution given the unfortunate side effects), he had to have access to it.

Currently, that access was through Lan Qiren.

“If you’re warning me in advance, I’m quite certain that I won’t like it,” he said mildly, continuing to play uninterrupted. He wasn’t cultivating anything at the moment – the piece he was working on was actually a refinement of the music he’d inadvertently created in his grief at Cangse Sanren’s death, the one that had made his normally very stable nephews burst into tears, and he didn’t want to add spiritual energy to it until he’d worked out exactly how he wanted it to go. He reached an appropriate stopping place, noted down a few revisions to the score, and put his guqin aside. “You should tell me about it regardless.”

Lao Nie exhaled. “Well, good news first – the smiths have finally finished conferring and they’ve concluded that they believe it’s possible to try reforging Jiwei, so they’re willing to give it a try.”

“Good,” Lan Qiren said. He hadn’t really understood the spiritual weaponsmiths’ reluctance on the subject, but he respected their expertise as craftsmen, just as they respected his as a musician. “Once the saber has been remade, I can reestablish the resonance between them and, in theory, Jiwei should be able to use that pathway to return - and with greater ease, as she would be returning to her more familiar self.”

“Not that easy, unfortunately,” Lao Nie said regretfully. “Jiwei was shattered. To remake the blade, they will need to – for want of a better explanation – melt her down and start entirely afresh. It will be like having a wholly different saber, albeit with the same metal that she’s used to.”

Lan Qiren frowned.

“There, you see the issue. If it’s a new saber, the familiarity will be absent. We will need to work on reestablishing the resonance the way we did with the pendant, and that means –”

“Slowly.” Lan Qiren’s frown deepened. It had taken him years to establish that initial resonance, and knowing how it was done could only reduce the process by so much. “That is indeed a problem. I cannot stay here as long as that would take. In all truth, I am surprised that I have not already been summoned back by my sect…”

“Oh, you have,” Lao Nie said cheerfully. “A-Jue burned the letters and told the messengers to fuck off.”

Lan Qiren’s jaw dropped. “He did what?!”

“Did we not say? You’ve officially been kidnapped! Well, no, really it’s more of a hostage exchange situation, since they have A-Sang with them…oh, don’t look so horrified, Qiren,” Lao Nie said, starting to laugh. “Your sect elders have indicated that no offense was taken, under the circumstances.”

“Circumstances?!” Lan Qiren spluttered a little. “You’re not serious! What circumstances could justify one sect kidnapping another sect’s sect leader, acting or otherwise?!”

Lao Nie stopped laughing, the sound cutting off as if he’d been choked. “Yes, well,” he said, closing his eyes. “That’s the part you’re really not going to like.”

Lan Qiren determinedly prodded at Lao Nie’s shoulder until the other man, grumbling, sat up and took a proper seat so that they could have this discussion face-to-face. Their knees remained touching, which was good enough, and about all that the scoundrel deserved at the moment.

“Explain,” Lan Qiren ordered, and Lao Nie dipped his head into a nod.

“There are several relevant points,” he said crisply, dropping into the familiar pattern of a report. “First, Hanhan has clearly decided that he wants me dead –”

“Must you?” Lan Qiren interjected, even though he had not meant to interrupt.

“Oh, I must.” Lao Nie’s eyes were flinty. “He decided that if he couldn’t have me – and no one said he couldn’t, except his own paranoia – that if he couldn’t, no one could, and I’m not about to forgive him for that, don’t worry. But he’s still my Hanhan, my A-Han, underneath all his madness, and for my own sake, I’m not going to let anyone, whether him or me, forget it. No matter how necessary, some things have to hurt, and to their fullest extent...However, that’s not what’s relevant now. May I continue?”

Lan Qiren nodded.

“He wants me dead,” Lao Nie said, resuming his narrative. “Now that he tried once, he may try again, and I currently lack the capability to defend myself – the doctors, and you, have all agreed that I should avoid any excessive use of qi, and fighting a battle with a saber that isn’t Jiwei is a recipe for disaster in the best of times. I can’t exactly swing the pendant around, can I? Moreover, it may take years for us to establish the resonance, re-transfer Jiwei, and for me to re-familiarize myself with the new saber.”

Lan Qiren did not like the way this was going.

“There’s also the matter that I can’t be without physical contact with you for extended periods of time, and you of course have your responsibility to your sect,” Lao Nie continued. “Kidnapping you is, at best, a temporary fix. We will need something more permanent, and your sect elders have already indicated that they won’t let you marry out until your nephews are grown – and obviously we can’t wait that long, even assuming you’d want to marry me.”

Lan Qiren opened his mouth.

“Don’t say that you’d be willing to make the sacrifice to marry me, because even if you would, I wouldn’t. Putting aside the fact that you wouldn’t be happy leaving the Cloud Recesses and as much as I adore you, having been married before, I’m quite certain that I only want to marry my lovers, thank you.”

Lan Qiren had, in fact, been about to make an offer just like that, but he kept his mouth shut. They could discuss it at length at a later point.

“In short, the best solution to all of these problems, therefore, appears to be to allow events to play out as Hanhan would have wanted: for me to die.”

“You cannot be serious!” Lan Qiren exclaimed, abruptly furious. “After all the effort we put into saving your life, you would just throw it away?”

Lao Nie held up his hands. “Forgive me, I spoke unwisely – ‘do not take your words lightly’, right?”

Lan Qiren was usually very easily distracted by the mention of the Lan sect rules, but he resisted the temptation and glared.

“I didn’t mean I’d actually die,” Lao Nie said, and Lan Qiren’s shoulders relaxed a little. “Only that that would be the story we put out to the world. The process has already begun – that’s why your sect elders aren’t kicking up a fit about A-Jue being so rude to them about refusing to return you.”

“They think he’s in mourning,” Lan Qiren realized. “Whether actual, or merely preemptive.”

He could see how it might appear that way: Nie Mingjue showing up late in the evening, depositing a shaken and terrified Nie Huaisang, using up all the medical supplies in Lan Qiren’s personal possession, and then asking Lan Qiren to return home with him…

Due to Lan Qiren’s friendship with Lao Nie, Nie Mingjue had grown up especially close to the Lan sect; Lan Qiren had been his teacher, and in the end he was only fifteen, even if most people didn’t know that. Even in a world where Lao Nie could not have been saved, he might have refused to let Lan Qiren go home so quickly, seeking comfort from the sole familial authority, however informally constituted, that he had remaining.

“But Lao Nie,” Lan Qiren said slowly. “If you are supposedly dead, then Mingjue will need to become sect leader.”

Lao Nie grimaced, but nodded.

He’d been right about one thing, at least: Lan Qiren did not like what the Nie sect had decided.

He didn’t like it one bit.

“You know what that will do to him,” he said. He himself knew it better than anyone.

“I do,” Lao Nie confirmed, looking pained. “But it’s the best out of a short list of very bad options. If I stay on as sect leader in my current state, someone will kill me – probably Hanhan, but maybe someone else, one of the many small sects that have ambitions of taking the Nie sect’s place – and if that happens, A-Jue will have to become sect leader in truth, without my support. At least this way, I can act as an advisor, aid him with paperwork…that sort of thing.”

As much as Lan Qiren would have liked to argue, he didn’t have a good rebuttal to that.

Lao Nie’s position within the Nie sect was as secure as anything, and the Nie sect’s position as a Great Sect was nearly as unshakable, but there were always smaller sects looking to see whether that could change. If he were known to be so critically weakened...Wen Ruohan might not even need to kill him personally. He’d just need to wait.

And the rest was true, too. There were many things Lao Nie could do from a distance - his month at the Lan sect had shown that much - and having someone reliable to turn to for advice and hard choices was the ideal sort of transition for a new sect leader.

Still, the sect conferences alone would be horrifying, and those Lao Nie would not be able to aid Nie Mingjue with, even if he could help with all the rest.

He hated it.

But he couldn’t argue against it.

“Moreover, without the bulk of the responsibilities of sect leader on my shoulders, I’ll have more opportunity to focus on healing.”

That was true as well. Lao Nie had been hurt very deeply by Jiwei’s destruction. His cultivation had fallen, his usual cultivation pathway denied to him, his trust in his own mental well-being betrayed…in an ideal world, Lan Qiren would recommend seclusion for a few months, maybe even a year, for him to focus on reestablishing his connection with himself, re-centering his foundation so that he could climb up once more. But for a sect leader, that was impossible.

“Very well,” Lan Qiren said, although he made sure by his tone to make clear how much he disapproved. “I understand the basis for your decision.”

“I thought you might.”

“There’s only one flaw I see with your plan.”

“Oh?”

Lan Qiren folded his hands together in front of him. “You still need me, don’t you? Even with the excuse of mourning, Nie Mingjue can only request my presence for so long before the demands of my sect become paramount over their respect for his filial piety and grief.”

“Oh, we’ll let you go back eventually,” Lao Nie said with a shrug. “And I’d go with you.”

Lan Qiren had been expecting that. “And how exactly do you intend to keep the story of your death intact if you’re living with me at the Cloud Recesses? Even if we increase your tolerance such that you can stay home at all times, my home is often visited by my students, including those from other sects – and while there may be a rule against talking behind people’s backs, it is one of the most commonly broken.”

Lao Nie winced in a way that suggested both that he had thought of an answer to that question and also that Lan Qiren was going to hate it.

“Whatever you say, I cannot dislike it more than A-Jue becoming sect leader at fifteen,” Lan Qiren pointed out.

“I don’t know about that,” Lao Nie said. “Given that to this day you despise the smell of gentians.”

Lan Qiren’s brain came to an abrupt halt.

“Absolutely not,” he said.

“Qiren…”

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s a good solution,” Lao Nie argued. “No one in your sect goes to that house – most of them don’t even know it exists! It’s within a short walking distance of your home, protected by arrays to enhance silence and protect privacy…”

“I am not locking you in He Kexin’s place!” Lan Qiren bellowed.

“You wouldn’t be locking me anywhere,” Lao Nie said, for once the reasonable and calm one in the face of Lan Qiren’s fury. “I would be going willingly, and I would be free to leave at any time. You’re not your brother, Qiren, and I’m not He Kexin – not least of which because I’m neither capable of nor interested in bearing two sons for you as a means of passing the time.” He paused, tilting his head to the side. “A bit of a pity, that. I’m sure they’d be cute.”

Lan Qiren rolled his eyes at him, although the reassurance and humor had helped douse the worst of his terror at the mere idea. Irritatingly, it was a good solution: he had made the trek to He Kexin’s home hundreds of times and no one had ever raised any questions. In the unlikely event that they did so now, he could claim he was merely tending to the garden to maintain it for his nephews; more likely, however, they would simply not notice – the path between the two locations was short and purposefully discrete.

“You’ll need someone to clean the place,” he pointed out. “Even He Kexin had servants, and if you don’t want anyone from the Lan sect finding out about it…”

“I have some servants that are loyal to me personally, and which are not Nie sect disciples,” Lao Nie said. “They can seek employment at the Cloud Recesses on the basis that they didn’t want to remain here after I’d gone – literally true, if you think about it in a certain light. Your sect would snatch them up in a heartbeat.”

They would, too, even without Lan Qiren interfering: properly trained servants who knew how to serve cultivators were a precious commodity that often had to be raised up from a young age or recruited with great caution from the ranks of rogue cultivators, and ones with the skills and experience that came from serving at another Great Sect were even more valued than most. And once they were part of the Cloud Recesses, there would be no difficulty in Lan Qiren adding the task of caring for He Kexin’s house to their list of duties.

“It’s a good plan,” he finally conceded, and Lao Nie sniggered.

“You look as though you’ve bitten into a lemon, Qiren. Did it hurt to say?”

“It hurt to think,” he retorted, and turned back to his guqin. “Will you visit my brother while you’re there? He might enjoy hearing your voice and knowing that you are close.”

Lao Nie had always refused in the past, and he shook his head now. “Not all of us are as forgiving as you, Qiren. Qingheng-jun made his choices.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“He makes them again every day,” Lao Nie disagreed. “He may have declared that he would stay in seclusion for the rest of his life to make amends, but that was his decision. He could break his oath and come out, do the right thing, but he doesn’t want to.”

It was an old argument, and an unproductive one. Lan Qiren shook his head, signaling that he would no longer engage.

He had other things to be concerned with, and would for some time. There was helping with Lao Nie’s recovery, creating the new resonance, playing calming music for him, keeping his secret; he would also need to help support Nie Mingjue as much as possible during his transition to sect leader, whether through correspondence and advice or through active intervention during the discussion conferences. He would need to manage his nephews, who he had taught so carefully not to lie, and yet they would need to learn to keep this secret, too.

Taking care of Lao Nie would also be an additional set of duties, on top of being sect leader and being a teacher and being himself, but Lan Qiren didn’t mind it.

It wouldn’t be so bad, actually, now that he thought of it without prejudice. To have someone close by to take tea with in the afternoons when his nephews were too busy and it wasn’t the right time of year for students, someone with whom he could speak on any range of subjects, including his occasional frustrations with his sect, stories about his students, the political troubles of the day – a friend close by, rather than at a distance. Someone who would probably encourage him to take more exercise than he usually did, to try things outside of his comfort zone, someone who would listen to his ideas on music or the rules without judgment, someone who would share his burdens and support him…it would be a little like having a wife, but without all the inconvenient aspects that he so thoroughly disliked.

“It’s not too bad, as such things go,” Lao Nie said, his thoughts clearly moving along a similar line as Lan Qiren’s. “Whatever the world thinks, I’ll be the first Nie sect leader to live to enjoy a retirement, however premature.”

This was true.

“I’ll miss my boys, of course,” Lao Nie added. “But I’ll write, and you can invite A-Sang to your lectures when he’s old enough. A-Jue can come visit you, sect leader to sect leader…I wouldn’t be the first father to only see his children a few times a year.”

“Nie Huaisang will probably fail my classes,” Lan Qiren said, having been acquainted with the individual in question for some time now. A clever child, even very clever, but he was also lazy, hated reciting facts, and was as stubborn as a rock – as stubborn as his father. “You’ll probably have the joy of him for several summers in a row.”

Lao Nie smiled.

“Well, I can’t say this was what I expected when I wrote to you for help all those years ago,” he joked, leaning down and playing with the jade token that now hung from his belt rather than Lan Qiren’s. Wen Ruohan would probably have a fit if he ever saw it – indeed, Lan Qiren was already looking forward to that day in the future, however distant, where Lao Nie would regain his saber and his former strength and re-emerge to make his feelings on the subject of Wen Ruohan’s actions clear. “But I’m still glad you came.”

“As am I, my friend,” Lan Qiren said. “As am I.”

#mdzs #lan qiren #sect leader nie #my fic #my fics #tedious joys

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halcyonstorm · 3 years

Text

The Breeze from an Airplane

MAJOR SPOILER WARNINGS FOR CHAPTER 138/139 AOT MANGA

MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING: death, graphic images

Read on AO3

Pairing: Levi Ackerman/Hange Zoe

Summary: Levi never thought the day would come where he had to relive the one of the most tragic moments of his life. He had finally begun to recover from Hange Zoe's tragic, sacrificial death. Now, two men stand at his door."We found Commander Hange's body."

Words: 4955

Levi received the worst news that evening. It was an inconvenient time to bear bad news, around 7pm. That was the time for Levi’s tea. It was usually a time for him to relax and unwind, but not tonight. The kettle was whistling; the tea was finished brewing. Levi had come out of the study and into the kitchen to retrieve the boiling water. Then, there was a knock at the door. It was strange. Usually, no one would come this late at night to bother him. He assumed it would be Armin coming to check up on him. He usually wrote to him as to when he would be stopping by. He hobbled to the door, feeling more apprehensive than he probably should’ve felt. He looked through the peephole in the door. Two men were dressed in suits. One wore round glasses, the other none. They must’ve had the wrong house.

“Mr. Ackerman,” The one with the glasses called out, knocking loudly again. Levi groaned, opening the door.

“What do you want?” Levi said, leaning against the door for support and crossed his arms. He forgot to bring his cane. The one with no glasses held a manila folder under his arm. The one with glasses wore a frown on his face. Levi’s eyes darted between the two of the mens’ faces.

“Mr. Ackerman. Good evening. We have some news for you.” The tone of his voice was neutral, as if they weren’t sure if it was good or bad news. His heart sank into his stomach, making him sick. What was it now? Haven’t I been through enough?

“We found Commander Hange’s body.”

It felt like two strong hands were slowly and steadily ripping his heart apart, every muscle, every nerve, every artery and vein came apart, leaking blood into each individual body cavity. His body began to feel heavy, blood leaking and drowning his body to its maximum. He had finally, finally, began to recover from losing her. Now, he was back to square one. He was brought back to that day on Odiha.

“And that’s that. I’ll see you guys later,” Hange said firmly, turning around to walk away. She called out to Armin.

“Oh, right. Levi’s your subordinate now, so work him to the bone. Okay?” Armin and the other’s faces read horror. Hange began to walk away from the group. As her decision began to settle with her, she felt herself begin to panic. She walked a bit before finding Levi. She didn’t intend to find him. She was scared to face him. She was scared to go. She didn’t let that show to Armin and the others, of course. She allowed her forced neutral expression transition into a deep frown. She felt her heart ache in her chest, and adrenaline began to pulse through her veins. As Hange forced her legs towards Levi, he called out.

“Hey, four-eyes.” She swallowed, feeling a lump form in her throat. He hadn’t called her that since she became Commander. She walked up to him, her shoulders in line with his. Hange wasn’t sure if she could look him in the eye, for her resolve could’ve broken at any time.

“You understand…” Hange began. He did understand, but he couldn’t accept what was doomed to happen, though. “It’s finally here. You know? ...It’s my turn.” Levi felt his heart ache. It seemed like all his senses shut down. The world had stopped around them. He wished to go back in time to the forest. Why couldn’t they have more time? Why did they have to meet in such unfortunate circumstances? It was pointless getting attached; He fell for Hange regardless, even though falling in love was suicide in the Survey Corps. Comrades, friends, and family died left and right. They were so close to freedom, to a peaceful life together that it physically pained him. He wished him and Hange forgot about the cruel world, even just for a little while. He was drowning in his pain at that time, but Hange helped him up to the surface. She was gentle when she sewed his face. Determined when she swam away with him to safety. Caring when she told him he didn’t need to get up. She protected him; this would be the third time he was saved by her. She was breaking his heart, well… whatever was left of it. He felt as if Hange herself shoved her hand into his chest, tearing his heart out.

“I want to look as cool as I possibly can right now. So please let me go.”

He thought it was very like Hange to say something like that. She wanted to look cool. She was still, even at this treacherous moment, trying to make light of the situation. But Levi could tell Hange was petrified. He couldn’t hold her back. He knew he could’ve easily changed her mind or broken her resolve, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that. He knew she had to go. He knew this day would come... but never did he believe it’d be so soon.

‘Please let me go.’ Those would haunt him for the restless nights to come.

He couldn’t think of what to say. He wanted to confess to her. To the person who has been by his side since day one. They have been there for each other no matter what. Levi fell for Hange every time he saw her.

I love you, he wanted to say.

I need you, he wanted to say.

Please, don’t go, he wanted to say.

But that would’ve been selfish. He couldn’t be selfish now. He had to be strong for her.

He raised his left hand and formed a fist. He struck it against her chest. Against her heart.

I dedicate my heart to you.

“Dedicate your heart,” He said, as strong as he could manage. He heard her breath hitch for a moment. Hange’s lips trembled. She knew what he meant. I love you, I need you. I dedicate my heart to you. Take my heart with you. Before her resolve was dissipated, she mustered up a laugh.

“Haha! That’s the first time I’ve heard you say that,” She said aloud. Her ODM gear zipped, and she was gone. There was a breeze that passed as she flew away. She took his heart with her. His chest was hollow. What she said was true: It’s the first time she heard him say it, but it’s also the first time he said it ever.

He had tried to reach Hange telepathically. She must’ve been too focused on the task at hand to respond. He saw her killing Colossal titans left and right as she flew through the sky. He was so proud of her. “You know I love you, right?” He told her as he hobbled onto the plane. “I will be forever in debt to you.” Deep down, he knew she heard him.

The plane took off. Levi couldn’t bring himself to look out the window like his comrades. They were screaming Hange’s name, crying, wishing it didn’t have to end like this. He didn’t want to remember Hange as she died. He remembered her as the strong, intelligent, brave Commander she had always been. He remembered her gentle touch when she wrapped his hands. He squeezed his bandaged hands together, reminiscing of his Hange.

“See you, Hange. Keep watching us.”

Levi passively allowed the two men into his house and shut the door behind them. The two men sat down at his dining table. Levi used his cane to assist him to the kitchen, pouring himself a cup of his favorite evening tea. It steeped too long; however, and it had turned sour. His lips puckered, pouring out the tea into the sink. He walked to the table and sat down. He stared blankly into the white linen table cloth.

“It’s up to you, Mr. Ackerman, whether or not you’d like an open casket. The body isn’t in good shape, I’ll be honest with you.” The body. That’s all it was to them. Hange’s dead body. She is a person one minute, a body the next. The two men must’ve delivered this news a thousand times to other distraught family members. Their tone expressed no sympathy whatsoever. All they cared about was business. “We will escort you to the morgue so you can see for yourself.” The morgue. He forced himself to nod, even though agreeing to see her body was asking for torture.

“If you choose, you’d have to hold the wake soon. The preservation chemicals can only hold for a few days before the body begins to --”

“I get it,” Levi interrupted with a shaky voice. He couldn’t let them finish that sentence. He would’ve broken down right there. He used his cane to push himself onto his two feet. “I’ll get Onyankapon.” He slowly hobbled into the back room where Onyankapon was. He was very torn up about Hange, too. Levi knew they were close. He was in his desk chair, reading. He saw Levi right as he entered, his presence altering the mood of the room from calm to anguish.

“Two men are here. They found Hange’s body,” Levi muttered, unable to make eye contact with his roommate. Onyankapon’s face turned sour and he stood up. “They’re gonna take us to see her.”

The ride to the morgue was quiet. Quiet was an understatement. It was mute, void of any sound. No one spoke. No one dared to put the music on in the vehicle. The streets were quiet. It was late in the evening when the bearers of bad news arrived at their place. It was cold. No one was walking about the town. The morgue, as it turns out, wasn’t far away. This made Levi shudder. Her body was so close to him in proximity. Her dead body.

They arrived at the morgue, Onyankapon got out of the vehicle first to help Levi. He submissively accepted his help following the two men inside. As they neared her room, Levi felt his heart begin to pump faster. He didn’t know what she would look like. How did she really die? Was she trampled? Burned alive? Both? He was starting to ask himself why he agreed to this. He didn’t want to know. He didn’t think he could handle seeing her again. Seeing her body again, after all this time had passed. He stopped dead in his tracks. The two men continued walking and reached the room, but Onyankapon stopped.

“Levi,” he said. He tentatively placed a hand on his shoulder. “We should do this.” Levi could tell he was anxious too. That comforted him, in a strange way.

Levi kept telling his legs to move, and finally they listened.

“The body was in bad shape when we found it. We were able to reconstruct what we can, but without knowing what she looked like prior to the incident, she may not look the same.” Reconstruct? Just how bad was it? One of the two men held the door open. Onyankapon allowed Levi to see her first. He wasn’t sure if that was a good idea or not once he walked into the room. Levi and the man with glasses entered the room. It was a shabby room with peeling grey wallpaper. The overhead light buzzed annoyingly. The room was very cold. In the center of the room was the body, covered with a light blue drape. At the foot of the bed, it read “Hange Zoe.”

“Whenever you’re ready,” he said monotonously, holding the edge of the drape. Levi could always sense when Hange was around. She was right there, yet he couldn’t sense her presence. Levi took a deep, quivering inhale. He would never be ready, but he nodded anyways. It seemed like the man pulled the drape off her face in slow motion. He was shaking. Horrified of what could be. Once the drape was off, the man left the room, closing the door. Levi's eyes were fixated in the corner of the dim, grey room. He couldn’t bring himself to look at first. He didn’t want to look, but he wanted to look so bad. He wanted her to be alive.

It was worse. Much, much worse than he thought.

Now he knew what they meant by reconstruct. Her body was extremely flat. Her skull must’ve been crushed in, but whoever fixed her up must’ve reconstructed her skull so her face was somewhat normal again. The oxygen seemed to be sucked out of the room; He felt himself desperately gasping for air once he saw her face. His knees buckled underneath him, and he fell at the bedside, his head resting on the tops of his hands, hot tears gushing uncontrollably from his eyes. A strangled sound escaped from his lips. When he managed to look at her face through glassy eyes, he was taken aback. Right away he noticed her nose was different. From the side, it looked reconstructed to be turned-up, which did not suit Hange at all. It looked nothing like Hange, yet so much like her at the same time. Her skin was dark red and brown, charred from the steam of the colossal titans. It was dry and peeling around her eyes, nose, cheeks, and chin. There were multiple blisters scattered over her head and neck. Her eyes were closed, but her eyelashes and eyebrows were fried off. The hair on her head, the hair he loved so much, was thin, sparse, and ratty. Most of it had burnt off too. Her eyepatch must’ve been lost, exposing the scar tissue of her left eye. She must have suffered. No doubt about it. He hated the thought of her suffering. It made the tears flow harder. This was the woman he loved; Now a dead, lifeless corpse.

He moved the drape out of the way to look at her hands. They were burnt, too. Skin and muscle burnt, bones broken. He was almost positive every bone in Hange’s body was broken. Her body was frail. So still. It seemed so strange for her to be so still. It was so unlike her. Usually, she could never stay still. She was never quiet, always being the brightest and loudest in the room. He enjoyed it; it was strangely comforting. He never knew how much he loved it until it was gone. The humming of the overhead light fills the room. She was dead, and that was for certain.

“Hange,” He whimpered, looking in his lap. Tears wet his lap. “You weren’t able to stay out of the action after all.” He was so proud of his Commander. She sacrificed herself for him and their comrades without hesitation. She sacrificed her life for his. His life was worth so damn much to her that she would die for him. She did die for him.

Levi wiped his eyes and cheeks with his shirt, causing his sleeve to dampen. He stood up. He gently placed his left fist against her broken chest.

“My heart is yours.”

He was still bugged by how still Hange’s body was. He wanted to tell her to wake up. Join me. Live with me. Be with me. He allowed his selfish thoughts to take over for just a brief moment. Onyankapon knocked on then opened the door slowly, checking in on Levi. His eyes quickly jolted from Levi to the corpse on the table. Tears welled up in his eyes instantaneously as he rushed to the other side of her.

“God, Hange,” He sighed, his voice shaking. “What happened to you…” He wasn’t able to drown himself in his feelings after she was left on the island. He had to man the plane. He had to shift the plane into motion and into the air, leaving his close friend behind to die. All the suppressed emotions came flowing out of him when he saw her burnt body.

After a few minutes passed, the two distraught men came out of the room.

“We decided on a closed casket,” Levi muttered. He couldn’t let the other’s see her like this.

“Okay. There is a funeral home just down the block which--”

“That’s fine.”

“Okay…” One of the men scowled. “How is two days from now?”

“That’s fine.”

One of the men smiled insincerely with a nod. “It’s settled. 5pm.”

Two days was more than enough time to contact the 104. Everyone was quick to accept the invite. Levi didn’t know if he could do it. If he could go through all this pain again. He had laid his suit out neatly on his bed.

Today’s the day you are put to rest, Commander.

He picked up his white button-down, sliding his arms through the sleeve holes. He remembered how Hange used to get ready with him from time to time.

“Hange,” Levi called out, storming over to her. “Your shirt isn’t even buttoned right. I know you can barely see as it is but damn, I didn’t think your eyesight was this bad.”

He started to unbutton her top. He noticed Hange’s cheeks flush a bit. Once he got to the top, he began to button it correctly.

“Sorry. I am in a rush to get to a meeting,” she would say.

Levi shook his head. “You can’t go like this.”

“What would I do without you?” Hange would say, laughing.

What would I do without you? he now asked himself.

His shirt was buttoned up to the top. He grabbed his cravat, tucking it into his collar. He sat down to put his trousers on. He took a deep breath. Putting pants on was always a struggle each morning. His legs barely worked on their own anymore. Onyankapon suggested a wheelchair, maybe he should finally submit to the offer.

He leaned down to put his socks and dress shoes on. For the most part, the only time he wore a suit was to funerals or memorials. He disliked the suit, but now he hated it. He hated the reason he had to wear it.

He went to grab his suit jacket when he paused. He turned to his closet, deciding to wear the black jacket him and Hange shared. She had worn it last. He had tried not to wear it so the scent wouldn’t dissipate. He held it to his face, taking a sentimental whiff of her scent. It smelt of fresh soil and a hint of sweat. There was a special scent he couldn’t quite place, but it was Hange’s signature scent. Maybe it was the detergent she used or the soap she used (or didn’t use) in the shower, but it was her. He hadn’t smelt the jacket since she died, but he couldn’t help himself anymore. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he felt as if he could sob right then and there. He slid the jacket on him, the jacket being slightly too big for him but he didn’t care. He put his thumb and fingers to the lateral part of his eyes, squeezing inward. He silently sobbed. He was allowed to; no one was around.

After a few moments passed, he took a sharp inhale and closed his eyes slowly. He was starting to question why he had agreed to hold a funeral for her. It was for them, the 104. He patted his eyes with a tissue, took another deep breath, and then went to the living room. Onyankapon was shuffling through a box.

“Ready?” He asked. Levi nodded.

“What’s with the box?” Levi asked, turning the door knob and opening the door.

“Some of Hange-san’s belongings from the accident. Those two men dropped this off last night.”

“I see.”

He decided he shouldn’t go through it now. He would get too worked up. Besides, her clothes were probably burnt and unsalvageable anyways. Onyankapon popped open a wheelchair, gesturing for Levi to sit down. Levi could barely walk, let alone stand, anymore. He hobbled over and slowly sat down, groaning slightly. Onyankapon wheeled him outside, shutting the door. Outside were the same two men, ready to escort Levi and Onyankopon to the funeral home. They were standing in front of a long, black limousine. One of the back doors was opened. As he was wheeled to the car, Levi glanced to his left and saw the hearse. It was black and had small, purple, velvet curtains behind the windows. She was in there. Levi couldn’t look away even though he wanted to. Levi felt tears start to pool in his eyes, but he quickly blinked them away. He stood up, getting into the black vehicle. Onyankapon folded up the wheelchair and got in beside him.

Like the ride a few days ago, no one spoke. It was mute. Levi’s stomach churned each time he thought about having to see the 104 again, talking about their lost Commander. Within 10 minutes, they arrived at the funeral home. There were a ton of people standing outside the funeral home, chatting amongst themselves and waiting to get inside. Levi stopped frowning. All these people were here to see Hange. It made his heart swell. The car stopped and was parked. The man with the glasses opened the door on Levi’s side, helping him out. The wheelchair was already propped open for him. Levi sat and he was wheeled to Onyankapon. He saw familiar faces: Mikasa, Armin, Gabi, Falco, Jean, Connie, Annie, Reiner… These people really cared about her, he thought. His stomach wasn’t hurting anymore.

Onyankapon and Levi were allowed into the funeral home first with the two men. It reeked of stale flowers. There was a beautiful gold chandelier hanging from the ceiling in the entryway that glistened when the sun shone on it. The carpet had a red and burgundy checkered pattern. He stared at it as he was pushed to Hange’s service room. They finally arrived. There were rows and rows of metal chairs lined up, facing right, to the casket. Casket. That word right there almost made Levi lose it. There were beautiful flowers of all colors surrounding the casket. Yellow, red, pink, purple. Hange loved flowers, especially bright ones. It was very fitting. The casket was a rich dark mahogany color with a thick golden railing on either side. It was tragically beautiful. There was a small red velvet cushion on the floor in front of the casket for people to pray. There was a black and white banner that hung above the casket. “14th Commander of the Survey Corps,” It said in small text towards the top. “Hange Zoe,” it said in big text underneath. Levi admired it for a while. He was curious who set all this up. Could it have been Onyankapon? The 104? He made a mental note to find out and thank them. Levi was facing the casket now. Levi pushed off the armrests and kneeled on the semi-hard cushion. Onyankapon kneeled next to him. Levi wasn’t one to pray, but figured now may be a good time to start. He laced his fingers together, pressing his forehead against his thumbs and closed his eyes.

Dear Hange, thank you for saving my shitty life. Thank you for all you’ve done for me. I am so proud of you... I miss you every day. Are you still watching me? At that moment, someone must’ve opened a window because he felt a gentle breeze pass by him, caressing his face as it wooshed by. This caused Levi to open his eyes and look behind him. There was one big window, but it was locked shut. Levi took a deep breath, smiling. Rest easy, four-eyes.

He pushed himself to stand, then sitting back in the wheelchair. Onyankapon finished his prayer, a tear streaming down his face. The two men recognized they were done and allowed the rest of the visitors inside. The doors to her room opened, people started flooding in. Levi took this time to wheel himself over to the brown cork board that hung on the left side of the room. It contained photos of Hange. For the most part, he recognized the photos. There was one in specific he never saw before though, and it wasn’t on the board either. It was a large portrait of Hange in a dark wood frame that sat on an easel. He admired this photo the longest. It must’ve been painted of her when she had just become Commander. She had her beautiful chestnut hair up in her typical ponytail (which was neater than usual), her black eyepatch on, her thin oval glasses sat on the bridge of her nose, and she wore her olive green Survey Corps jacket. She wore the oval green stone around her neck, which sat at the top of her chest. There was a hint of a smile in the photo, even though the painter insisted she kept a straight face. Hange persuaded him to make her smile in the portrait, though. Levi thought she looked breathtaking.

He felt a hand gently touch his shoulder. He tensed slightly, turning around. He saw Armin and Annie together. They were both dressed well and teary-eyed.

“It’s good to see you Levi. We are sorry for your loss,” Armin said, shaking Levi’s hand and placing his other hand on top of his. Afterwards, Armin stuck a hand in his pocket.

“You, too. Thanks,” Levi replied.

“Hange-san handed me this after she made her decision to stay behind,” Armin explained, handing Levi an envelope which was folded in half. “It was addressed to you.” Levi took it from the new Commander, turning it to see the envelope addressed to “Levi” in Hange’s handwriting.

“Thank you, Armin,” Levi nodded at him.

“What do you think of the flowers?” Annie asked, sitting down in the front row of metal chairs. Levi looked towards the flowers again.

“Hange would’ve loved them,” he replied. Annie smiled sadly. “She would have.”

Mikasa came up behind Armin, giving a small wave to Levi. Armin stepped out of the way, allowing Mikasa to pass. She took both his hands into hers, looking into his eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Levi,” She whimpered, her eyes tearing up. She felt at fault for Hange’s death. She thought maybe she could’ve saved her, but didn’t. The truth is, Levi didn’t blame anyone specifically for her death. “If you need anything, I’m here for you.” Deep down, he knew usually no one actually reached out for help from others. He appreciated the offer, though.

“Thank you, Mikasa,” he replied.

As the lot of people passed by to visit Hange, Levi grew sick of the apologies. He appreciated them, but he couldn’t bear seeing everyone’s sad faces anymore. It made him feel worse. He told Onyankapon he was going outside for some air. The stale flower stench was starting to sink into his clothes and skin. He wheeled himself out of the room, down the hall, and through the doors. The sun was beginning to set on the horizon, shining beautiful shades of pink and red throughout the city. He took the envelope out of his pocket, slowly but surely unfolding the letter. He began to read.

Dear Levi,

You will receive this for one of two reasons: one, I am dead; or two, I worked up the courage to personally hand it to you. I hope it’s the latter. I know I am being selfish when I say this, but I wish we stayed in the forest together a little while longer. I began to write this after that day.Currently, you are asleep in the carriage I built. I stopped to make dinner for us. I barely had time, but I had to get my thoughts in writing.

I think I am going to die soon. So, I had to tell you how I felt before I go. I know my time is coming up very fast, and I am not afraid to die. That is what we signed up for when we joined the Survey Corps, after all. What is bothering me is when. I wish it’d be peaceful in a warm, comfortable bed. I doubt that, though. If it’s true, maybe we would be living together. Isn’t it true that if you live with someone for a long time, you’re considered married by common law? I wouldn’t mind being married to you, Levi. I wouldn’t mind waking up every morning and you’re nearby. I wouldn’t mind spending every day with you. We could explore the world together. Leave these walls in the past and be free, together. I can study vegetation, you can open the tea shop you’ve always dreamt about. Maybe I’d discover new plants and food for us to try. Or maybe I’d work to create inventions. Maybe I’d create a new type of food or plant. Maybe I’d invent a more efficient flying boat. Well… whatever I do, I hope it’s with you. Even if I am gone when you read this, live your life. Explore the world. I’ll be right by your side. I promise.

Always yours,

Hange Zoe

Levi held the letter close to his heart. His heart was throbbing and felt like it would burst out of his chest. Tears were flowing uncontrollably down his cheeks and into his lap. He folded up the letter, careful not to rip it. He slid it into the envelope, sticking it in the inside pocket of his, their, jacket. He looked up to the beautiful pink sky and saw a flying boat pass by, buzzing in the air.

I’ll be right by your side. I promise.

#levihan #levihan fic #levihan fanfiction #levi ackerman #hange zoe #hanji zoe #levi x hange #levi x hanji #AoT #snk #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #levihan one shot #levihan oneshot #rivahan

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johannstutt413 · 3 years

Text

(requested by calligomiles; continuing from this)

“Chirp! Chirp! Chirp!” Ptilopsis’ head peered into Olivia’s room as her alarm sounded. “Chirp! Chirp! Chirp!”

“I’m awake, I’m awake.” Not that she particularly felt it, but she was getting out of bed nonetheless.

Tilly giggled to herself. “Ifrit already left for class. She ate all of her breakfast, including the seconds she requested.”

“Impressive.” The drowsier Liberi had found her glasses and now much less blind began to dress for the lab. “Thank you for taking care of her. If I can find the time to learn to cook, I should.”

“Dr. Silence already works so hard to save the world, though. Ptilopsis has no objection to supporting her in that endeavor however necessary.” Although admittedly, it was an element of her daily calculation.

Silence shrugged on her topcoat before hugging the mid-number-crunching analyst. “I’ll be helping Iffy with her project tonight. Saria said she might come by for a bit as well to pitch in, but I won’t be upset if you go home with her.”

“Understood.” Mostly. “Firewall temporarily disabled. I’ve noticed the two of you talk more with each passing day, but this is the first I’m hearing of you allowing Saria to see Ifrit.”

“Her project is more focused on the skeletal system than anything else, and I think Saria’s substantially more familiar with that field of anatomy than I am...Besides, she’s proven herself with how she treats you.”

Ptilopsis blushed. “Oh.”

“I know it’s taken me some time to admit it,” the doctor continued, following her beloved to their waiting breakfast, “but after all the time she spent working for and with Iffy, it’s not fair for me to keep them separated. She did what she thought was best, and regardless of whether I agreed with or agree now with her decisions, they were made with good intentions. Sorry to start the morning like this.”

“It’s fine. Ptilopsis is glad you continue growing as a person.” She hadn’t declared that she’d re-erected her firewall, but it was clear from context.

They ate breakfast after transitioning to talking about their business for the day - patients with scheduled visits, the other Medics on rotation for their shift, their usual morning briefing - but before they left for the office, Olivia pulled her close for another hug. “Thank you. I couldn’t do this without you.”

“‘This?’” Tilly temporarily halted her work protocols. “In what context?”

“Raising Ifrit, attending to Rhodes Island’s Infected, researching Oripathy, deploying on missions...You make my life possible.” She managed to catch herself before crying properly, but a stray tear rolled down her face and onto the analyst’s jacket.

The other Liberi twittered sweetly in her ear. “The same is true for me.”

“It is?...Thank you.” A brief collapsing of the little space between them, a kiss that lasted either seconds or years, and Rhine Labs’ former Oripathy expert was ready to start the day. Work went as expected through lunch, with patients and care plans and the occasional accolade or scolding of some Operator or another. When the Liberi lovers came back from the cafeteria, however, a familiar Vouivre was waiting for them.

“Good afternoon.” Saria was in business mode. “The Doctor needs me to deploy for a mission; I need a pre-deployment exam.”

Silence nodded. “Ptilopsis can take care of you.”

“...If it’s all the same, can we all talk in the exam room in private?”

“Hmm.” The doctor glanced at Tilly, who was rebooting quickly after a momentary blue screen, before nodding. “If you prefer.”

The trio took the nearest open room, and as the analyst performed the exam, the Vouivre got down to business. “I made notes for Ifrit’s presentation, but since I won’t be there to help, I sent them to both of your inboxes. There’s more than enough information for her to ace her assignment.”

“Thank you. I’m sure she’ll be happy to tell you how she did when you come back.” There was no question that she’d be coming back, after all.

“...Which brings me to my other point.” She sighed, taking a moment to collect herself. “When I come back, I’d like to have a full discussion, all parties involved, about setting a schedule for me to spend time with Iffy.”

Silence lived up to her codename as Ptilopsis carried on dutifully with her task, doing her best to ignore the conversation and focus on procedure. “I...I think that’s a good idea.”

“You do?” Saria’s heart rate, as measured by the device her examiner was using to measure it, betrayed her surprise.

“Yes.” Olivia made sure she didn’t respond with the other phrase that came to mind. “I isolated her from you, and the rest of the world, out of a hyperbolized sense of danger. Not that there weren’t genuine concerns for her well-being, but in keeping her under lock and key like I was, there’s a possibility I did more harm than the good I intended. I’m not the only person in her life who’s made rash decisions out of good intentions, and it’s hypocritical of me to keep pretending that my mistakes are justified when others weren’t.”

The Defender sighed. “So it’s still a mistake, then.”

“I think so...but I’m learning to admit when I might be wrong.”

“I see.” This’d turned out better than she’d thought it would. “Tilly?”

The Liberi took a breath before shifting her attention. “Yes?”

“When I said ‘all parties,’ that includes you.” The Vouivre looked her directly in the eye.

“Understood.” Ptilopsis shut down her defenses for a moment. “Why?”

That was a rare question to hear from her; the analyst was much more a ‘how’ and ‘when’ sort of person. “Because you’re part of her family, too. You deserve a say.”

“But I don’t have any concrete opinion on the matter. I’m happy you’ll be able to spend time with her, but the specifics are up to you and Olivia.” It was a good thing she was essentially done with her examination; this was going to eat up most of her processing power, she could already tell.

“Tilly,” Silence interjected, “it does affect you, though. You’re very careful with how you spend your time, and Saria and Iffy spending more time together will affect your calculations.”

She nodded. “It will.”

“So if we set a schedule that makes it harder for you to make those calculations, that’s not fair to you. We know how hard it is for you-”

“No. You don’t.” The analyst looked each of them in the eye in turn. “But that’s okay.”

The room around Olivia and Saria disappeared from their awareness as Ptilopsis reactivated her defenses and continued her work. It wasn’t until she finished that the Vouivre had any kind of follow-up, which was lifting her off her feet in a tight embrace. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for-”

“Oh, cut the bullshit, there definitely is.” The Defender set her down but kept her arms around her. “Every time we get into a fight or try to reconcile, we disrupt your life at a deep emotional level, and even if it’s better for us to try and get along, you get dragged along behind us in the process. We know your condition, but we don’t how it feels - you’re the only one who does. That doesn’t mean you have a right to lash out, but you do have the right to speak up, and we want to hear you.”

Tilly couldn’t keep walls up in the face of that. “Ptil...I know that, love.”

“Then take my apology for springing this on you in the middle of the week.” She held the Liberi’s gaze even as her vision started to blur.

“O-okay.” The analyst sighed before wrapping her arms behind Saria’s neck and pulling down slightly for a kiss. “You’re forgiven.”

The Vouivre let her go. “Thank you.”

“You are too, dear,” Ptilopsis continued, addressing Silence as she walked over to hug her as well.

“Thank you...and I’m sorry.” The doctor squeezed her like she had that morning. “We never explicitly said we would stop making these kinds of changes, but we did imply it a few weeks ago.”

The other Liberi shook her head. “Data changes, people change, and life goes on. Ptilo...I want you both to be your best, your happiest, and if that means chaos, then- Firewall engaging, overriding, halting process- then so be it. I need to be better, too. I’m sorry you had to hear the Other Voice.”

“You’ve held it at bay for years,” Saria noted, walking over to hug her from the opposite side. “That can’t be easy, especially with everything that’s happened.”

Olivia nodded. “Certainly not...I believe the Doctor is expecting you, Saria?”

“Unfortunately. I should probably be on time for the shuttle.” As she let go of Tilly, her hand accidentally touched Silence’s. The doctor said nothing. The Defender said nothing.

Ptilopsis made a note to record that in her diary that evening.

#arknights #arknights fic #ptilopsis (arknights)#silence (arknights)#saria (arknights)#Rhines Lab's divorce case totally isn't canon-adherent #try telling us fanon-writers that of course #but this spin-off 'verse definitely hits me in a specific place #i would say close to home #but 'home' is a complicated idea #has been for years...#that's all i wanted to say

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monster-noises · 3 years

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Now, nowadays I'm not usually one to go on about like.. headcannons and stuff, particularly not publicly (Fandom isn't really my scene anymore, I'm like an old grandpa man)

but I was having some Thots about trans Heisenberg in the shower just a moment ago so I'm just gunna let loose under the cut, just this once, as a treat.

please don't be a fool idiot on my post, save your time and mine, you'll be blocked immediately regardless <3

I was just thinking about how like.. being trans would add such a compelling and fascinating layer to his whole like.. Narrative

like.. imagine Miranda - looking to bring her daughter back; kidnaps this young 'girl' who turns out to be a nearly perfect specimen through her experiments.

Except nearly perfect isn't perfect and so Miranda's search goes on and this kid just... has to live like this now...

infected, mutated, irrevocably changed and being indoctrinated into this Family.

Loosing any semblance of self-determination and identity (and as he says; his Dignity) but one day this kid realizes Who He Is (read: Trans) and it's just like... the Floodgates open

Suddenly there's a path of control, a way to reclaim himself. He cannot change what Miranda has done to him, but he can take some degree of the powerlessness he feels over his being and wrestle it back into his own hands.

(Now does he figure out how to do a Transition on his own because he clearly knows a thing or two about anatomy? or does he confide in The Duke and our old boy helps him out? who knows, that's not what I'm here to determine. but g o d the idea of the duke as this consistent semi-friendly figure in his life makes me Feel Things)

And it starts this explosive chain reaction in him where this boiling, pointed, but action-less anger coalesces into goals, and he realizes he Can reclaim power over himself, even if just a bit at a time.. and just AHHHH

AHHH HH HH HHHHH H

IT'S ABOUT THE POWER OF SELF-DETERMINATION BAYBEE

IT'S ABOUT KNOWING YOURSELF AND NOT LETTING ANYONE GET IN THE WAY AND LETTING THAT FUEL YOU

IT'S ABOUT BECO M I N G

But Then Like...........

the absolute added T r a g e d y of that initial, almost euphoric, realization and transformation twisting and turning and continuing to boil in hate and rage over time, as he is still entrenched in this Evil place, infected with Cadou/megamycete; primed to become a monster just like everyone around him (This whole post in No Way is supposed to be Woobifying this terrible terrible Nasty man, he's horrible, nasty, evil, and vile, but also fucking tragic and it's all complicated and great and evil and beautiful and I love him explicitly as a villan and no the game itself is not that deep, at least not on purpose, but I do so love to explore a puddle as though it were an ocean every now and again)

The way that twiiiiists into him becoming not unlike the very person he seeks to destroy in so many ways!! How he both maintains that original idea but never grows past it and only rots around it!!

Die sort-of-not-really-ever a Hero or live long enough to see yourself become a Villan!!!

The way he reflects the other characters in this story in so many fascinating ways!!! AHHH!!! I LOVE THIS EVIL OLD MAN!!!! This parts kinda true whether or not he's Trans though and is perhaps a Talk for another large text post later when I'm feeling Brash again!!!!

but him being trans and that being the catalyst for him beginning to really fight back just makes it e x t r a Sad!

This concludes my thought vomit allocations for this week, thank you very much for your time.

I know most of what people see on my blog particularly is just me being unequivocally horny about this man, but I do genuinely love, and am compelled by, him as a character on a lotta levels....

he's also just hot as all get out

#monster noises #this is the main non-art account of Bartholomewillustrated #resident dad-bod heisenberg peddler #hi hello hi #god and the way this ties into what I think about his and Alcina's dynamic -rubs my gay little hands together-#karl heisenberg #i wasn't initially going to outright tag this #but i woke up slightly disappointed no one appeared to have seen it

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jerepars · 3 years

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Hey, I’m your previous anon who said that, even though I love reading them regardless, sometimes I don’t always agree with your thoughts (with the HARD exception of Kote). I’m back to tell you I agree with all your 5x08 reactions. It seems like I waited a week to watch a very half assed romance plot of underdeveloped side characters and I felt no emotion. In season 3, when the prospect of Kote was first hinted at I was actually excited, thinking they’d provide a bit of comic relief and act as a foil to the greatness that is Jeresa. Now, both characters bore me and I really don’t understand the writers’ infatuation. I’m watching a show where Teresa is heroine, and yet I actually MISS her. I feel like she barely gets any screen time that doesn’t just feel superficial and surface level. She’s had so many losses (Tony, George etc...) that the writers could have taken advantage of and created a bit of poignancy. I know it’s an action show, but it’s just too much. I feel underwhelmed. Anyway, hopefully we get some quality Jeresa time next episode. I hate being the shipper that only watches a show for my ship, but honestly there’s not much else driving this show anymore.

Hello anon! Back again? Shall we make this a weekly thing now that there are only two episodes left? Lol.

A major thing that's irked me about this season is that it seems so much focus is put on the action without strengthening the storylines due to the lack of critical interactions between the characters. I think part of what makes it disappointing is that we have gotten the action alongside important interactions on this show before. In my opinion, most of the scenes that have been long (*cough* Kote scenes *cough*) eat into time that could be better used in meaningful conversations. And I don't just mean Jeresa either. For example, regardless of how annoying I find Pote, Teresa's relationship with him is very important. I would have liked to see more of them.

Much of the season has felt like the Kote show to me and I can't help but resent that. I think I wouldn't mind it in doses. Maybe if it remained as the sideshow and wasn't being force-fed to me as the main show it wouldn't bother me so much. At times, it does seem like Teresa's appearances are surface level, like you said. In my opinion we've only gotten glimpses into what Teresa is dealing with mentally and emotionally...whereas I would have liked to see a deep dive. Like I said earlier, I want the story to be strengthened, and Teresa's story especially! But every time we get close, it's gotten brushed off and we're moving on.

From my perspective, the writers have done the story a disservice by not having a major Jeresa moment around 5x06 or 5x07. And I don't say that just because I wanted more Jeresa action. It didn't have to be them banging or even kissing at all. But a conversation or confrontation or something. Because this is still supposed to be about Teresa's journey. And whether the writers or the anti-Jeresa crowd like it or not, James is part of that journey. The lack of transition, the lack of building--beyond it being dissatisfying, there's so much missing.

I want to end this on a positive note rather than just airing out a bunch of my complaints so I'll leave you with this: it does seem (fingers crossed) that we will get to see Teresa save herself. That's always been an important sticking point for me, so I look forward to it if and when it happens.

Thanks for the ask!

#answered #i have opinions they are unpopular #qots #queen of the south #pote galvez #kelly anne van awken #teresa mendoza #james valdez #qots season 5

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beca-mitchell · 4 years

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religion's in your lips (even if it's a false god) (1/1)

Summary: Beca still wants Chloe in whatever way she can get her, even at her own detriment. Rated M/E for sex.

This is for @asimplefavors in thanks for her donation and participation in @ppfandomdrive. This is part of the now i see daylight au.

Word count: 4,944

Read below or on AO3.

* * * * *

Age: 19 Location: New York City, NY Month: December

* * * * *

Not that Beca’s counting, but this is the fourth month since her break-up with Chloe and the first time since meeting Chloe at five years old that she’s been uncertain about going into the new year without her best friend by her side.

It’s weird. It’s uncertain.

But most of all, it feels like she’s never really going to get over that break-up—her first break-up ever—anytime soon.

It stings, months later, even though Beca knows that Chloe had her reasons for wanting to go their separate ways; even though Beca knows now that she and Chloe hadn’t been working for a while; even though there had been problems on both ends.

It isn’t worth analyzing, not now to Beca at least. The short story is simple enough, rife with enough heartache: it had been too much too fast and they hadn’t been ready to handle it enough.

Still, years of friendship with Chloe has made Beca somewhat of an optimist (a bad one regardless), so she kind of keeps hoping for some kind of refrain to their story, not a coda. The distance between them now feels oppressive—jarring in ways that Beca could have never imagined—even if Beca knows with every fiber of her being that Chloe is closer to her than ever before (physically at least) since they’re both likely in the same city.

Chloe had adapted easily to her transfer to Columbia from Barden, as Beca had expected. They had barely exchanged texts, just simple greetings and congratulatory messages from time to time—as often as they could within the span of the four months they had officially been broken up. Within that time, however, Beca felt more and more desperate to stay connected to Chloe despite everything. It had taken Beca everything to not mention offhandedly that she knew Chloe had started lowkey seeing somebody (or at least sleeping with somebody—though Beca isn’t sure which is the more comforting thought) around the end of October or early November.

...not that Beca had been keeping track.

Or, rather, more accurately put, she doesn’t want to keep track. It just seems like she’s not very good at getting her way when it comes to Chloe Beale.

* * * * *

It wasn’t like Beca necessarily had other plans for the New Year. A lackluster collection of messages sit on her phone from her father, her mother, and even her step-siblings, but none of them really invigorated her into wanting to spend time with any of them (and if she’s being painfully honest with herself, she’s almost certain that they’re not wholly interested in spending that much time with her either). Even her increasingly growing circle of friends in Los Angeles didn’t really feel like the right group of people to spend the new year with.

But, even with that on Beca’s mind, all of this had been Theo’s idea. Beca had begrudgingly agreed because she had kind of grown tired of being cooped up in Los Angeles where she would have been happy to spend some quality time in the studio. With the success of her EP and her first full-length album being well on its way, Theo had thought it a good idea to make their rounds to “friends and family” of the Republic Records roster.

It was surreal to say the least, brushing shoulders with people that Beca had once admired from the confines of her bedroom all the way back in Massachusetts, simply hoping that she would have her shot. From her bedroom to the record store where she had spent most days flipping through old albums, daydreaming about music and Chloe and simply wishing for time to fly by so she could finally get her life started.

What she would do to go back to that quiet store, to feel Chloe’s arms draped over her shoulders and her playful giggle in her ear in her attempts to distract Beca from work she had no intention of doing anyway.

Now, at a private party hosted by FLETCHER, Beca has to shake herself more than once simply to get out of the headspace she had been in, good thoughts and bad thoughts alike.

This is, after all, her once in a lifetime opportunity.

* * * * *

Scratch that. All of that.

She’s staring right at Chloe Beale at a rented-out abandoned warehouse-apartment. Beca would recognize Chloe anywhere. She can’t quite believe her eyes.

Once in a lifetime opportunities indeed.

* * * * *

Chloe looks good.

That’s the first thing Beca notices and she kind of hates herself for it, but it can’t be helped. Her hair is longer, maybe a little curlier, and it falls in loose, beautiful waves over her shoulders. Beca tries to assess whether Chloe looks the same otherwise, but she can’t really tell, not with the dim lighting around them. Beca quickly shakes her head at her companion as she rises from her seat in the corner and darts up to quickly greet Chloe before Chloe has a chance to slip away.

With her heart in her throat, the pressure definitely encroaching on her ability to speak, she steps beside Chloe. She tracks her eyes up the side of Chloe’s face for a moment while Chloe has yet to notice her as Beca moves to lean against the same wall Chloe is leaning again.

It takes a moment but Chloe visibly does a double-take when she twists slightly to observe her new wall partner. Beca’s neck heats and she is thankful immediately for the low light.

“Beca?” Chloe exclaims. “Beca! I—holy crap—” Beca dares to make eye contact, feeling her lips twitch into what feels like a smile even though her heart and brain war against each other to process the emotions swirling in her stomach.

Beca opens her mouth to say something—anything, really, at this point—but words fail her momentarily. She swallows, angling her body towards Chloe as well because to do so feels natural, like they gravitate towards each other on instinct. Something beyond either of their control.

“Come with me?” Beca asks. It is then that it really sinks in for her that she is finally standing in front of Chloe who looks equally surprised to see her. Beca really shouldn’t have been surprised at all, not initially at least, because Chloe always had a way of finding her way into the right crowds, but even more than that, she always had a special knack for finding her way into Beca’s life.

“Okay,” Chloe says. At least, Beca thinks she responds. She wants nothing more than to reach back to grab Chloe’s hand or at least look over her shoulder to see if Chloe is following, but she fears that to look back would mean sending Chloe away again.

When Beca finally dares to look back, she is relieved to see that Chloe followed—that perhaps Chloe would always follow Beca in the same way Beca would for her.

“Hi,” Chloe says, when silence passes between them once more in their more secluded corner; their little corner away from prying eyes and keen ears. “You—” she cuts herself off when she notices Beca is in the middle of speaking as well, gesturing at Beca politely.

“Uh, hi,” Beca greets a bit lamely, for some reason now terrified that Chloe has given her the floor to speak. “You’re...here,” she says stiltedly. “In New York. I mean. Because you go to school here now. But you’re here at this…” She looks around before shrugging a shoulder. “It’s good to see you.”

Chloe smiles, tucking her hair behind her ears in a gesture that seems rather shy to Beca, but endearing nonetheless. “New Year’s treat to myself,” she says in explanation.

“Ah.” Beca tries not to, she really does, but her eyes track down Chloe’s body immediately, taking in Chloe’s outfit. Simple black jeans and a tank top should have no business looking that good on anybody, but Beca feels her mouth go dry at every last forbidden memory that assaults her system. Briefly, she finds herself jealous, like she ought to scan the dwindling crowd and see whether Chloe came with any friends.

Or any one friend in particular.

She drags her eyes back to Chloe quickly, wrestling with her emotions so she can school her expression appropriately. “Did you come alone?” Beca asks, attempting to inject the right amount of curiosity-sans-jealousy into her tone. Nonchalant. She can do that.

Chloe blushes again and something akin to guilt rises up on her cheeks. It’s a bit of a stretch as Chloe takes her time to respond before finally settling on “Did you? Come alone, I mean.” Her gaze dips past Beca’s shoulder to where Beca had been sitting in her corner, half-heartedly paying attention to the conversation she had been engaging in with her plus-one.

A gaze that meant that perhaps Chloe had been more observant than Beca previously assumed. The thought sends heat through Beca’s body, settling somewhere in her chest and manifesting in a blush across her cheeks.

Chloe is here now. And Chloe is evading her question with a question of her own, which makes all kinds of turmoil swirl through Beca’s stomach.

“I didn’t,” Beca manages to mumble, feeling the oddest sensation of guilt as well. She hadn’t been saving herself for Chloe or anything, which is what she tells herself as she tries to talk herself down. It’s harder to remind herself that Chloe hadn’t necessarily saved herself for her either. “Just...mostly a label thing. I’m here for, um, work.”

It’s all really just too fucking fresh and too fucking devastating, knowing that ‘work’ had been what drove them apart in the first place because they had both naively thought that things wouldn’t have to change between them—that high school would follow them both with ease and transition without any real effort.

Chloe’s tongue comes out to swipe at her lower lip. “I didn’t...either. Not really. But they’re…” Chloe casts a glance over her shoulder. She looks back at Beca, bashful. “It seemed like a good way to kick off the new year, you know?”

“How’s school?” Beca asks. “I know you were…” she swallows thinking of how absent she had been when Chloe had been working on her transfer application. “You were really excited.” It comes out softer than intended and Beca feels the sudden urge to reach out to hold Chloe’s hand.

Chloe smiles at her words. “I love it,” she replies, sounding as passionate as Beca remembers her.

I love you, Beca thinks. "That's good to hear," she says aloud.

* * * * *

The end up talking for at least an hour. Socially, it’s probably not either of their best attempts at working the room, but they both appear to revel in the ease with which they are able to sink back into their usual conversational habits.

But, more poignantly, their usual chemistry. It ebbs and flows in waves around them, like a heady song reminiscent of all the memories that Beca had attempted (with no real effort in all honesty) to suppress.

Beca is so painfully reminded of how long it’s been since she last had sex (with Chloe).

“Do you have plans after this?” Beca asks during a lull in their conversation. She warms at the way Chloe’s eyes flash towards her.

“No,” Chloe admits. “But my friends were thinking of dipping anyway.”

“Oh,” Beca mumbles. “Okay.” She tries not to fixate on the fact that Chloe doesn’t seem to plan on leaving with them. Her eyes track across Chloe’s shoulders and collarbone again.

Beca’s obvious ogling doesn’t go unnoticed. Chloe doesn’t look upset by the attention. Instead, she looks pleased.

Maybe too pleased.

It makes Beca want to kiss the smirk right off her lips.

She struggles to think of something to say—anything but the thoughts racing through her mind. She blames the adrenaline from the high of the live performance and the reception to her music. She blames the energy of the crowd around them. She blames Chloe’s proximity to her. She blames the fact that she can see the light sheen of sweat on Chloe’s bared skin.

But Chloe’s smug expression fades eventually and she shrugs. “Do you want to...talk more?” Chloe asks sincerely. “Or are you busy?”

Beca glances around, taking stock of the people in closest proximity to them. She casts a glance around, keeping an eye out for a handler or her manager, but upon seeing that the coast is fairly clear, she nods and grabs Chloe’s wrist. “Come with me. We can go someplace quieter.”

* * * * *

It feels like a new verse—or maybe an entirely new song. Not quite deja vu, but Beca isn’t sure what she would prefer.

* * * * *

The ride back to Beca’s hotel is the quite possibly the tensest car ride Beca has ever been on. She glances at Chloe non-stop, trying to remember the last time they sat side by side in a car. It had been when Chloe had picked her up at the airport that...that last time.

Beca clenches her hands in her lap.

The hurt still flares up from time to time, but over the past few weeks, it had lessened to nothing but a dull throbbing ache. Nothing to write home about. Nothing to fret over. She had simply been too busy with working on her EP, releasing her single, and then doing promotional work to even think about Chloe for more than a few minutes a day. It was only within those few minutes that she found herself lost in the sad memory of her ex-girlfriend.

But now—now, Chloe is next to her and they finally have a chance to talk. Beca wrings her hands nervously as they round the last street corner before her hotel.

Talking is fine. Beca can talk. Chloe was—is—her best friend. She has nothing to be afraid of. She knows this.

“This is me,” Beca announces unnecessarily as the driver pulls to a stop. “A hotel.”

Chloe giggles at Beca’s unnecessary but familiar awkwardness. “I figured.”

Beca’s throat goes dry. “Well, I mean. Just in case...you didn’t know.” She feels nervous, like she’s about to enter her first day of high school again.

Chloe’s gaze locks onto hers and Beca forgets whatever inane thing she was about to say.

So, talking is a little hard now.

Sue her.

Sue them both.

* * * * *

But some things are easy enough to fall back into. Too easy.

Like the way Chloe’s hand reaches for hers in the elevator. How gently and intimately their fingers tangle together.

Like the way Beca’s entire body heats up when she sees exactly how Chloe is looking at her.

Like the way Beca knew exactly what she wanted to happen when she suggested they go someplace quieter to talk.

* * * * *

“Nice room,” Chloe comments, trailing a finger along the edge of an ornate dresser by the bed. “They didn’t have any suites available?”

The teasing lilt to Chloe’s voice seems amplified—something dark and hungry in Chloe’s tone—but Beca only notices because every last sensory nerve is alert; every sound reverberates through her with the force of a thousand speakers.

She swallows, taking a step towards Chloe before hesitating when Chloe’s eyes cut up to her own.

The thing that comforts Beca most is the stark vulnerability she sees in Chloe’s eyes—the same that she’s sure must be reflected in her own eyes. She wants to say a million things—wants to ask a hundred jealous questions and more. Between leaving high school and now, a mere year and a bit, she feels like they have aged an entire lifetime. The chasm between them is so palpable, rife with tension and hurt mixed in confusingly with the same chemistry they always enjoyed.

“I don’t need a suite,” Beca finally responds. Though her words are bland, she can’t help the way her voice rasps out due to the tightness in her throat and in her chest. Not for this, she wants to say. I need you.

“Guess not,” Chloe murmurs before she closes the distance between them, pulling Beca in for a searing kiss. It is not quite the kiss that Beca envisioned they’d share upon meeting up again, but she curls her fingers tightly into the front of Chloe’s shirt and holds on tight, unwilling to let go, even for what she’s sure is just a night of nothing but uninhibited passion.

* * * * *

“Fuck, Beca,” Chloe moans, tangling her fingers in Beca’s hair to the point of pain. “Right there, yeah, fuck, right there—”

Beca continues to eagerly lick and suck at Chloe’s wet folds, wanting nothing more to bring Chloe to the brink again and again until neither of them can move anymore. She grips Chloe’s thighs, forcing her legs apart further, and continues, uncaring as Chloe’s moans and cries only increase in volume. She doesn’t care if she gets a noise complaint. She’d go as far as to say that a noise complaint is the goal at the moment. She wants to get as many noise complaints as she can. It doesn’t matter as long as she makes Chloe fucking come.

She pushes her tongue past Chloe’s folds, as deep as it can possibly go. Her jaw aches badly but still, she pushes forward. She resists the urge to stop because stopping would mean she would no longer hear the wonderful sounds Chloe makes with each pass of her tongue; with each clumsy stroke of her fingers just where she knows Chloe needs her most. Beca groans at the taste of Chloe all over her mouth and the sounds of Chloe coming apart echoing all over the room.

“I’m going to come,” Chloe moans out. “I’m going to come, fuck—” she comes with a sharp cry, Beca’s name on her lips. Her hips rock up and down as if attempting to dislodge Beca from her, but her hand clamps down hard against the back of Beca’s head to keep her in place. It is an almost unfamiliar, possessive grip. Beca barely remembers when they had been so consumed by passion and lust that emotions barely had the chance to make themselves known. Still, the gesture makes Beca grind down against the bed in reaction, clenching her fingertips against Chloe’s sweat-slicked skin. She steadies herself by grabbing Chloe’s hips in a vice grip, moaning as the taste of Chloe further floods her mouth, wetting her chin slightly. Her own cunt clenches around nothing as she pants, muffling her own cry against Chloe’s thigh, finally receiving the sweetest, but smallest of releases. She kisses Chloe’s damp skin, using her teeth to bluntly nip along the soft warmth of Chloe’s inner thigh in an attempt to calm herself down.

Without waiting for Chloe to say anything else, Beca crawls up her body, using her fingers to stimulate her own clit as she goes. She groans, eyes nearly crossing at the sensation. She’s too sensitive, too far gone, so she rocks her hips greedily down against Chloe’s thigh before letting her fingers slip inside herself. Months since she has felt another person’s touch against her—months since Chloe. Even touching herself didn’t quite feel the same without the knowledge that she had Chloe. “I’m so close,” she pants out. “Please, I want to—”

Chloe nods, still slightly dazed from her orgasm, but she pulls Beca in for a searing kiss, tasting just the faintest remnants of herself along the inside of Beca’s mouth. She moans, arching upwards and spreading her legs to accommodate Beca between them. Her hands move to grab at Beca’s ass, helping her rock slowly against the steady, firm thigh Chloe has between her legs, but it’s not what Beca wants most. Her rocking is hindered by her own hand between her legs, her fingers not quite doing what she wants most. She licks her lips, whimpering at the taste of Chloe still lingering just slightly on her lower lip.

“Let me,” Chloe rasps. She wraps a hand around Beca’s wrist. “Come on,” she urges.

Beca bites her lower lip as she removes her fingers, moaning at the loss. She clumsily tries to slot herself between Chloe’s legs, thrusting her hips down as best as she can.

Chloe’s hands drift to her hips in order to better steady her. “Beca, I can—”

“No. Please,” Beca grits out, cutting Chloe off unexpectedly. “I want to feel you like this.” Her hips stutter in their rhythm, but she quickly grabs one of Chloe’s legs and lifts slightly, shifting her hips in just the right way so that she can feel Chloe’s wet folds and her stiff clit brush against her own nether regions. The sensation, even though it is slight with their haphazard positioning, makes her eyes cross and her stomach coil in pleasure knowing that she gets to experience this with Chloe once more. She gasps out, unable to stop the brief, high-pitched sounds from escaping her. She feels so close to Chloe—so connected to her once more. “Please,” she begs. “Let me, God—” she cries out, connecting fully with Chloe’s center.

She aches, badly. Partly from the discomfort of their positions, but also with how much she wants Chloe like this. Like the past few months—hell, the past year—of emotions have come rushing out to spar for dominance in the tangle of Beca’s bedsheets, no longer as crisp and clean as they had been just that morning.

It is as if Chloe feels that surge of emotion from Beca, like she always had before. Chloe’s hands tighten on her hips as her breathing grows erratic once more. She slowly guides Beca’s movements, keeping a steady, gentle rocking motion until she evidently grows impatient and reaches down to swipe her thumb against Beca’s clit. Beca gasps, hips jolting out of place, which is enough for Chloe to roll them over so she can pin Beca beneath her body and slowly press two fingers inside her. “This is so much better,” Chloe purrs, energy renewed.

Beca could disagree on some levels but she can’t exactly disagree fully, not when Chloe’s fingers feel so fucking good inside her, finally.

Months of not having that sensation of fullness, not just physically despite how fucking good it feels, but also that sensation of emotional connection she had been missing so much.

Months of feeling like she couldn’t breathe, knowing that her jealousy had been welling up inside her, threatening to spill over at any second.

Months of not having Chloe, who always knew exactly how to make her feel amazing.

“I wanted to come on you,” Beca pants out, uncaring that her brain is no longer connected to her mouth. “God, fuck, I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

Chloe groans. “Later,” she mumbles, leaning down to suck harshly at Beca’s nipple. “I want you like this,” she declares, letting Beca know that the time for negotiation and demands is over. As Chloe’s free hand comes up to cup her breast possessively, Beca briefly wonders how she could possibly want anybody else; she wonders whether Chloe still wants her as much as she still wants Chloe; she wonders if Chloe thinks of her the same way Beca thinks of Chloe, alone in her bed.

Nothing, however, compares to this—the thick, hot air around them, sheets rumpled all around them like a nest for them to lie in until the morning comes. Beca curls her fingers into Chloe’s hair, arching her back with a weak whimper as Chloe’s fingers flex and push inside her with consistency and force.

The sharp sting of Chloe’s teeth against her sensitive skin makes Beca coil and tense once more, this time more distinct than before. She barely recognizes her own voice when she groans, deep and low, as she clenches tight around Chloe’s fingers. “Make me come, please”

“I will,” Chloe promises, increasing the intensity of her thrusts. The bed creaks.

Like a refrain that Beca has longed to hear over and over, she loses herself in the chorus of her own staccato whimpers and grunts, offset only by the echo of Chloe’s breathless sounds. She lets the sensation of being completely possessed by Chloe wrap her up in the pseudo-warmth of being loved once more—the thin blanket of passion and lust that covers them both. She clutches at it—a tightening of her fingers in Chloe’s hair once more and a sharp scratch up Chloe’s back—with some desperation, wanting to both lose herself completely and yet, stay coherent so she can recall every last moment.

“Fuck, don’t stop,” Beca pants out, losing track of the rhythm for the briefest of moments as she scrabbles to hold on to whatever part of Chloe she can reach. Chloe clutches her back in return, pressing closer to her, nearly trapping her arm and hand between their bodies entirely.

“I won’t,” Chloe promises again in a tone that sends a fresh wave of arousal through Beca.

Beca allows herself to shut her eyes.

* * * * *

Beca refuses to let up and to her delight, Chloe refuses to as well. She matches Beca one-for-one for everything and before either of them realizes, it is verging close to the early morning.

Sweaty and sticky, Beca moves to grab water from the hotel room’s mini-fridge and tosses a second bottle to Chloe. Chloe takes a long drink before clumsily placing the bottle on the dresser and twisting to face Beca. Chloe’s eyes are dark and wanting, with the mildest hint of exhaustion. Beca’s sure she looks the same—two of them, complete messes. But this is their own little world. At least for the next little while that Beca has Chloe here with her.

Chloe is endlessly patient. She waits while Beca drinks her water. Beca watches her, eyes tracing over the endless, unmarked skin save for a few red scratch marks and blooming hickeys in hidden spots. She wants to do more. She’s not sure where the obsession comes from, but it springs from deep within her chest, like a well that refuses to empty no matter how much Beca draws from it.

A well full of every last repressed thought about Chloe, about their relationship, and about their lives together. Beca knows that this is so unhealthy—that they should talk. But the sex makes everything feel that much more bearable. She can do this with Chloe. They’re both consenting adults. They both have the freedom to decide what they want. Chloe wants this too.

As long as Chloe wants this, she wants Beca. She wants Beca, without a doubt. It clears the insecurities momentarily.

And that’s good enough for Beca.

Beca slowly puts the mostly empty water bottle down on the closest surface. She wants desperately to shower, but she cannot resist crawling back into bed and climbing back on top of Chloe eagerly. No words are needed as their limbs intertwine and their bodies slot together naturally, like they’ve done this a thousand times. Maybe they have, Beca can’t recall. Not when Chloe pulls her in for a messy, passionate kiss, again lacking much of the care and affection their previous kisses used to have.

Beca doesn’t care. Not now, not ever, she thinks. She can do this. All she knows is that her body is somewhat satisfied, but not fully.

She needs to know that Chloe still wants her—that Chloe still desires her in the way that she always did. She is not disappointed when Chloe’s hands immediately fly to her ass, groping at the flesh she finds before slipping to her still-wet pussy. Beca knows how incredibly sore she is going to be in a few hours—perhaps she feels a hint of it already—but she cannot help but rock back onto Chloe’s fingers as she begins to fuck her again.

“Yes,” Chloe whispers. “Fuck yourself, Bec.”

Beca obeys, nodding frantically as she begins a punishing pace. She can only lift her hips so high as to keep Chloe’s fingers steady inside her, but it is Chloe who picks up the pace, who uses her strength to flip them over so she can use her hips as more leverage to drive her fingers deeper and faster.

Chloe was always better at fucking her anyway.

Again, again, Beca’s body cries out.

Her mind and heart remain shockingly quiet on the subject, but Beca wonders how anybody or anything could be displeased by this result. She comes incredibly quick, clenching tight around Chloe’s fingers. For a long moment, Chloe keeps her fingers still, both of them still breathing hard. Beca almost clamps her legs shut around Chloe’s hands, just to keep her there.

Don’t go, she almost says aloud when Chloe finally moves her hand away.

She doesn’t want it to end.

* * * * *

When Beca wakes up in the morning (read: only a few short hours later), her duvet is still warm and Chloe’s pillow is still slightly rumpled. The air smells of Chloe and sex. The bed is half empty, save for a small folded note just above where Chloe’s body had been laying mere hours, minutes, seconds before.

Beca does not have to look elsewhere to see that all of Chloe’s things are probably gone. She reaches for the note even though she knows that the foreboding in her heart is her body telling her that she shouldn’t.

thanks for making the start of this year amazing it was wonderful seeing you xx chloe

She hates how much it feels like another ending.

* * * * *

fin.

#bechloe #pitch perfect fandom drive #pp fandom drive #pitch perfect #bechloe fic #my fanfic #mine #gif #now i see daylight #mine:au

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themadauthorshatter · 3 years

Text

... I apologize in advance.

This is my personal idea for a sequel in The Nightmare Before Christmas, and I hope you all enjoy😄🙏. This whole thing will be TV perspective, like the Sanders Sides Beetlejuice AU. For better context, you might want to check out the OTP headcanons in my master post.

🎃🎃🎃

We begin the day after Halloween, in a meeting between Jack, The Mayor, and Jacob, who's here to take notes on how things are run.

He's a little bored, but he's still taking notes and doing well in dealing with The Mayor's whining.

The meeting wraps up and the Skellingtons leave the city hall.

Jack sighs that the meeting went well, at least better than he thought it would, but Jacob admits that he wasn't expecting much to begin with, save for the usual.

Regardless, Jacob still agrees, but asks if it's really necessary to have a meeting immediately after Halloween, because it seems tedious.

Jack gets the confusion, because this is the third meeting he's attended, and nods, saying that it can be tedious, but they need to be on top of everything, in case something happens, like an idea or something they can't do, and to keep The Mayor calm; he's the real workaholic, not Jack.

Jacob bursts into laughter and Jack, also laughing, tells him to be more subtle because who knows who heard that.

Turns out someone DID hear them.

It's Daemon, who is outside sitting against the fountain because he's bored and wanted to see his dad and brother.

Jack asks why he isn't with Sally or Luna, and Daemon explains they're out looking for herbs to restock. He was offered to go with, but he didn't go because he figured they'd want some mother-daughter time.

Jacob thinks to himself that girls are like that, but asks why Zero isn't with him, at least.

He followed Sally and Luna, and, looking back, Daemon doesn't know which would've been more unpleasant: making sure he stood far away enough for Sally and Luna to talk without losing them or having damn near everyone that walked past him say he looked so much like his father and was probably just as terrifying, and that Jack should watch out because Daemon might scare him under the table.

Jack lightly chides Daemon for the comment, but explains that he'll get used to being called the best as he helps him up.

Daemon humms as he stands and places himself next to Jacob, asking how the meeting went.

As they walk, Jack admits that while it was longer than he'd anticipated, the meeting went very well, so this year's Halloween should be pretty eventful.

Daemon echoes that word, eventful, and we focus in on Jacob as his face turns from relaxed joy to slight boredom and thoughtfulness at what Jack and Daemon said.

Eventful.

Does he want to do 'eventful?' Yes.

Does he know how?

Not yet. Because to him, eventful means whatever new idea his father comes up with.

He's pulled out of his thoughts when Daemon asks how he did, being the next Pumpkin King and all.

Jacob shrugs and says he did okay for his third neeting, but Jack corrects him: he did WONDERFUL, giving ideas that could only be gotten from an outsider, like finding a new way to use whatever was in surplus.

That excites Daemon and he asks if Jacob took notes, so he'd remember his ideas for the next meeting.

Jacob nodds and takes a piece of paper out of his pocket, handing it to Daemon.

Jack reads the notes as well, and his face falls a little as Daemon humms in contemplation.

We do not see what's written, but Daemin returns the note to Jacob, saying that he's written really good notes.

Jack isn't very enthused by what he read, will still agree that the notes themselves are really good.

Jacob notices, but doesn't question it.

They meet Sally, Luna, and Zero at home, glad to see the boys home.

Sally asks how the meeting went and Jack changes his answer from before as he and Sally give each other a peck on the lips, because they're married and love each other.

The meeting went great and this year's Halloween should also be great.

Sally's glad, and so is Luna, who's glad to see her brothers together, all things considered.

Jacob, when their parents' backs are turned, mouths, "Bite me," while Daemon returns the sentiment, asking how her time with Sally was.

Luna holds up a basket of herbs and smiles that she and their mother will have enough herbs to last until spring.

Daemon is very glad to hear it, though Jacob spaces out again, thinking back to the word 'eventful' and his notes.

Speaking of which, Luna asks about the meeting, cause she loves seeing her brother be tormented.

Jacob, unfazed, says it actually went swimmingly, which must grind her gears.

Daemon stops them and suggests Luna get the herbs to the kitchen.

Jacob leaves and goes to his room the put the notepad on his desk. He goes back to his family, but we see what he wrote that got Jack uncomfortable:

Holiday Doors drawn in a circle, each of them with a question mark around them, save for Halloween, because he's already there.

Back with the family, they're eating some dinner, and Daemon's showing his crazy side by wanting to stab his meal to bits and pieces, but not doing it because his mother AND father are at the table.

Luna asks what ideas there are for this year's Halloween.

Jack explains some ideas regarding utilizing spiders and even using shadows a little more, but Jacob is zoning out.

Quick side note here, if we're going off the headcanon that Jack deals with depression or a form of it, then I'm adding that Jacob has some attention problems. He doesn't SEEK attention, he just struggles with staying focused after a while, he fidgets, he gets overwhelmed when his mind's getting off track and he's still trying to focus, he zones out, he fidgets, he gets TOO caught up in doing something after doing it for a while, and, if it's REALLY bad, he dissociates.

TL;DR: Jacob has something along the lines of ADHD and a little bit of Dissociation. Still happy, still healthy, just a little iffy on whether or not he wants the lights on or off upstairs, metaphorically speaking.

Back on track, Jack asks Jacob to explain his ideas, which gets him to pay attention and he obliges.

Turns out one of his ideas involves using the shade and finding a way to get all of the power turned off as to frighten the people even more.

It's an impressive idea, all the same Luna tells Jacob not to get too high on his horse, in case someone with problems gets hurt.

He nods and continues eating, saying he'll keep it in mind.

Sally asks if there was anything else that happened and Jacob denies it, saying Jack would probably remember it all better, anyway.

Luna and Daemon exchange a glance, not fully buying it.

Outside of a window, a centipede looking bug stares at the family before crawling away and transitioning us to the triplets' room, where Jacob is trying to even out his hair for the night before bed. Daemon is laying his pillows out so they form a coffin or a casket around him while Luna braids her hair so it doesn't get messy; have you ever tried brushing yarn out withoit ruining it?

Luna asks what ideas Jacob REALLY has, and Jacob feigns ignorance, that he doesn't really remember.

Daemon gives one of those 'not buying it' "mm-hm"s and Luna folds her arms, asking about the doors he keeps writing about.

Jacob turns to them, eyes asking how she knows about that.

Luna only states that he's just like Dad: the WORST at hiding things that he doesn't want people to see.

Jacob barks at her to drop it and goes to bed.

Luna does the same, muttering that when tbeir father found the doors, it didn't end well for him, so if he wants to be better, he'd better steer clear.

Jacob ignores her and we learn through some internal monologue that he doesn't want to just be better than Jack or his expectations, he wants to exceed him, the town, and everything else.

In their room, Sally spots Jack staring out a window and asks what he's thinking about.

Jack turns and asks if she had any visions on her walk with Luna.

She did, but she wants to know what's bothering Jack first.

Jacob drew the holiday doors while taking notes, and he needs to know that his son is not going to make the same mistake he did.

The two hug and Sally admits she did have a vision, but it just showed one of the doors, the stars exploding, and Jacob running into the woods while she heard nothing but laughter.

Jack holds her tighter and nonverbally promises himself and Sally that he will not let Jacob make the same mistakes as his father.

#the nightmare before christmas #jack skellington #sally skellington #sally ragdoll #jack x sally #oc children #sequel fanfic

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theredhairedmonkey · 5 years

Text

What Callum’s relationships say about him

Callum always seems to gravitate towards people who share the same values and traits as him.

This was clear even back in S1—when he saw Rayla stand up to Runaan to do the right thing,

He decides to stand with her.

So, it’s no wonder that he ends up having traits that line up pretty closely to the girls he ends up falling for. First Claudia, then Rayla.

Initially, I thought that was just some neat attention to detail—Callum isn’t superficial about who he loves or cares about, so he has to feel some kind of connection or “affinity” to that person.

But now, I think there’s more to it than that. I think that, in many ways, Callum’s transition from pining on Claudia to loving Rayla also reflects and parallels his character development. From awkward sheltered prince to powerful mage.

Lemme break it down.

When we first see Claudia, she is so engrossed in her book that she was about to walk into a tree.

She’s described as always having her spellbook nearby (much like Callum has his sketchbook).

Claudia is a magic nerd, adorable awkwardness and all.

Much like a certain step-prince we all know and love, Claudia is pretty eccentric.

When it comes to fighting, Claudia prefers to keep her distance; her spells are long-ranged, and she’ll usually be on the sidelines while Soren does the physical fighting.

She loves magic, mainly for casting spells.

But she’s also capable of having an appreciation of magical things for their own sake.

However, for the most part, she keeps her feelings about magic at an arms-length. Claudia sees magic as largely an academic pursuit, a tool, or an outside resource that you can tap into (provided you know the spells).

For Claudia, magic is about what you can get out of it. Either a spell, or a ritual, or some kind of power just waiting to be unlocked.

Lastly, Claudia is ruthless. Like, really ruthless, willing to do almost anything to achieve a goal, even going through unethical means.

Particularly, she’ll “save” her family members through any means and regardless of how they might feel about what she did.

As a result, it leads her to justify all sorts of terrible actions that she probably would never have considered herself.

Claudia is ruthless pragmatism personified.

During the time that he crushes on Claudia, in S1 and S2, Callum has a lot of traits in common with Claudia.

For starters, he’s fairly bookish himself—the first time we see him, he’s drawing in his sketchbook.

We see him draw many times in the first two seasons, mostly for fun.

Or to calm down.

But even if he has only a few moments, you might see him sketching something—even here, on the Cursed Caldera when Rayla’s gone not five minutes just to check on a sound they heard.

He’s a nerd, just like Claudia—he’s eccentric, awkward, and adorkable (and thankfully, some things never change).

He’s also not action-oriented either, fighting from a safe distance or watching from the sidelines.

But most of all, he shares Claudia’s fascination with magic. Like her, this fascination is primarily with spells and not necessarily with magic as a phenomenon.

Here, while talking with Lujanne, she tells him all sorts of wonderful things about Primal Magic, focusing on how Primal Sources function as part of nature, but he steers the conversation back to what matters to him.

So, while he has an appreciation for magic as a natural marvel, and even though he has a distaste for Claudia’s brand of Dark Magic, he mainly sees Primal Magic as a means to an end.

For him, magic gives him something he can be good at. A way he can feel secure about himself. A way for him to feel right.

But as he learns about the Sky Primal, as he grows to understand the Sky Arcanum, he begins to move away from this.

By the time he wakes up from his coma and connects to the Sky, he no longer sees Primal Magic as just a source of spells and way to discover his self-worth—it becomes something much, much deeper to him.

It’s an experience, an intimate connection he now shares. His Primal Source is no longer an extension of his abilities as a mage, one that he can tap into for a wind or lightning spell. Now, he is an extension of it.

Callum expresses this change with just one line of dialogue.

I thought I had to find my wings, but that’s just it! I am the Wing!

It just so happens that this change in his way of thinking happened around the time he began to align himself more closely with Rayla. Ultimately, while Callum had already fallen out of love with Claudia by this point, it’s when the Sky Arcanum finally clicks with him that he starts to associate more with Rayla’s traits and values rather than Caludia’s.

The main difference between how Claudia and Rayla see magic is as follows:

For Claudia, magic is a tool, a resource.

But for Rayla, magic is an ambience, a part of everything around them.

Even though she doesn’t have much of the technical understanding of magic that Claudia and Lujanne have, she still knows enough to express how she and the other elves view magic.

Now, it’s not a stretch to say that this isn’t the only thing that Claudia and Rayla don’t see eye to eye on.

Unlike Claudia, Rayla is very action-oriented, using her physical abilities for just about everything.

That’s not even limited to just fighting; here, she gracefully slides across the ice just to catch up with Callum.

Or she’ll climb up a tree to ride one of the giant helicopter seeds down the valley.

Or she’ll lay out some rope and jump off an Ambler.

Claudia has a plan for everything—her bag has a seemingly endless supply of problem-solvers.

But Rayla, instead, relies on her can-do attitude—she won’t second-guess whether she can do something, instead jumping right into the middle of things and figuring out the details on the way down.

Rayla also prefers to be right in the thick of things; if there’s a fight, or someone’s in danger, she’s there.

However, Rayla also places a high value on morals. Even though she’s not above using underhanded means or trickery when necessary (such as tricking Soren and Claudia in 2x03), she very much believes in doing things the right way.

This is why, for instance, Rayla is very angry with Callum when he uses Dark Magic, and it takes quite a bit for her to be able to look past it.

Like, Callum has a spell, one spell, that will save both Rayla and the dragon, literally solving all their problems in one fell swoop, and this is the look she gives him:

Oof.

So, needless to say, in the first two seasons Callum resembles Claudia more than Rayla. He prefers to take a back seat on the action, isn’t all that confident in his physical abilities, and spends most of the time avoiding fights, especially when he doesn’t have a plan.

And, even when he understood that Dark Magic was wrong, he was nevertheless willing to do something unethical to save Rayla regardless of how she felt about it. He shares that ruthless pragmatism with Claudia that Rayla doesn’t.

But once Season 3 rolls around, we see Callum start to move away from Claudia’s way of thinking as he begins to gravitate more toward Rayla’s.

Early on, Rayla shows Callum magic in Xadia. He begins to see magic and the world it inhabits the way Rayla does.

I’ve heard people wonder why Callum doesn’t learn that much magic in S3, and that’s because he’s learning magic less as spells and more as an experience.

And through that experience, not only does Callum learn a great deal about magic in Xadia, he learns about what the elves are fighting to protect. He learns why this kind of world is worth protecting.

And the more he spends in this world, the more we see him come around to Rayla’s way of thinking.

For starters, he’s much more action-oriented in S3—we see him follow Rayla up a tree, ride a difficult-to-tame mount, or climb a 70-foot Ambler’s leg while it’s walking.

I mean, he’s not as good as Rayla at these things…but baby steps.

Even though he may hesitate, he’s much less sure in his abilities than in S1 and S2. He doesn’t insist on taking an easier route. When Rayla gives him her sword, he simply follows her up the tree. He’s showing signs of that similar can-do attitude that Rayla wears on her sleeve.

As a side note, there may even be hints that his connection to the Sky Primal may be subtly affecting his range of physical abilities. We already know that the Moon Primal can increase the physical strength of the creatures connected to it (Viren notes that Moonshadow elves’ power increase depending on the phase of the moon, while Ez mentions that Phoe-Phoe drew her strength from the Moon Nexus). And it’s doubtful that he would have been able to scale trees or Amblers earlier in the series. Right now, that’s just a guess, but who knows?

He also comes around to Rayla’s values—there’s a right way to do things, and the ends do not justify the means.

Unlike in S2, where Callum was willing to use Dark Magic to save Rayla in spite knowing it’s something he shouldn’t be messing with, this season he takes a bit more principled approach.

After they fight over whether Rayla should stay, Callum uses a spell to discover that Rayla’s parents did not abandon the Dragon Egg, and in fact fought till the very end.

And the thing is…that actually gives him a solid argument for why this means Rayla should leave with them. They sacrificed themselves to protect the Dragon Prince, he could say. You should honor their memory by finishing what they started and protect Zym.

He could, just as he did with Dark Magic, use his powers to help save her life, and it wouldn’t even really be that unethical this time.

And yet he doesn’t, because this time he realizes it’s whether he can use magic to fix a problem. He’s not going to use magic to get Rayla to agree with him, or to support his argument for leaving.

Instead, he uses magic entirely for her. He does it to give Rayla the closure she needs, letting see her parents and showing her that they were in fact heroes.

And when she’s at a loss as to what to do next, Callum just gently reminds her it’s ultimately her choice. And he’ll respect that choice, provided she’s making it willingly.

He empowers her, reminding her that she gets to choose who she wants to be, much like he discovered for himself:

This is diametrically opposed to what Claudia would do in this situation. We’ve seen her take the Primal Energy from a living creature to cure her brother, even when he’s accepted his situation. She does something similar, or perhaps even worse, to save her father.

Claudia would use magic to save people through any means, even if those people might disapprove.

Callum used to think this way, but now he doesn’t, using his magic instead to empower the people around him, such as Rayla.

All of this shows just how much he’s changed. How much she has changed him.

As a last point, I’ve noticed something else that had changed in Callum, though it’s a lot more subtle. Before I mentioned that Callum would always draw in his sketchbook, largely for his own enjoyment.

Yet in S3, we don’t see any of that.

Sure, he carries his sketchbook around with him at all times, even during the Battle of the Storm Spire for some reason!

(like, did you think you’d have time to sketch while people are fighting and dying, Callum what are you even—)

But even when keeping the sketchbook around, we don’t see Callum drawing recreationally anymore—the one time he draws in it, he does it specifically for Rayla, both proving that he saw them in his spell, and giving her a change to see her parents’ faces again.

The reason for this is because he’s become far more preoccupied with the world that Rayla introduced him too. He’s not sitting down to draw what he sees in Xadia. He’s going to experience it himself.

This all culminates in one final moment in S3:

Callum lays down his sketchbook one final time.

And leaps off the pinnacle to save Rayla.

After this moment, we never see the sketchbook around him again.

I mean, sure, I definitely think we’ll see him drawing again in S4, but the sketchbook is no longer inseparable from Callum. The symbolism here is clear—Callum has been transformed.

And just to drive the symbolism even further, his blue jacket is torn to shreds, leaving Callum with just his sleeveless red shirt, scarf, and fingerless gloves. Not to get too bogged down into color motifs here, but this change was big, since red is typically more associated with “action” while blue with “calmness.”

But symbolism aside, he looks less like a young Merlin and more like a young Goku.

He’s no longer someone who will wait on the sidelines hoping everything works out. Callum is now someone who will jump right into thick of things, against all odds and with a determination to save the day himself.

In short, he’s become someone like Rayla now.

#callum #rayla #rayllum #claudia #viren #soren #lujanne #dragon prince

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fatesdeepdive · 4 years

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Entry 1: Anticipation

Introduction

What is your most anticipated game? Not the upcoming game that you’re excited about, the game that, more than any other, made you count down the days until its release. No game has ever made me as excited for its release like Fire Emblem Fates did.

Fire Emblem Fates was first announced in January 2015. Back when that trailer was first released, I was still obsessively playing through Fire Emblem Awakening, the game Fire Emblem Fates was meant to be a successor for. The trailer hooked me and I eagerly waited for more information on this bold new entry into the Fire Emblem series. The trailer showed a battle between two armies, a monster destroying a castle, a woman dancing, and a duel between two swordsmen. Between these clips, the trailer showed a return of Awakening’s gameplay, the addictive gameplay that’d taken away hundreds of hours of my free time. This trailer told us nothing, leaving me eager to learn more about this new story.

As the months went on, it was announced that Fates would tell the story of two kingdoms at war. More interestingly, the player would be given the opportunity to choose which kingdom to support, adding a layer of moral ambiguity and complexity to the story. I loved this concept and had no doubts it would be executed perfectly. The game released in June 2015 in Japan, but American fans had to wait until January of the next year to play it.

I bought the game as soon as it came out.

And I loved it. I played through all three routes half a dozen times each. For about six months, Fire Emblem Fates was the main game I played.

I haven’t played Fates in four and a half years. I don’t know why I went from spending multiple hours each day playing it to dropping it and never going back. I’ve played Awakening about once a year since then, but I haven’t gone back to Fates for some reason.

Since its release, Fates has gained a certain...reputation among the Fire Emblem fanbase. Put bluntly, it’s widely considered to be the worst Fire Emblem game. And, to be honest...I can kinda see why. Looking back, the game’s writing was filled to the brim with problems. But still, I can’t bring myself to hate the game like other Fire Emblem fans. I still remember asking my mom to preorder it for my Christmas present when I was fifteen. I still remember devoting hours of my life to this game.

So, I’m left with this quandary. Who should I trust? Other fans, or the memories of my youth? Is Fates really as bad as people say? Well, I kinda want to figure that out for myself. And I think the only way to figure this out is to obsessively play the game.

Over the next few months, I’m going to do a deep dive through Fire Emblem Fates and post my thoughts on this blog. I’m going to go through every chapter, every support conversation, every part of this game to answer the question: is Fire Emblem Fates a good game?

Opening Cutscene

Booting up my copy of Birthright for the first time in years, I’m greeted with an opening cutscene containing much of the footage from the trailer. It’s worth noting that the two armies from the trailer have very different aesthetics, one being heavily influenced by feudal Japan and one being heavily influenced by medieval Europe. The transition from the battle to the woman dancing is done by zooming out, revealing that this battle is actually taking place inside a painting. I actually really like this, it shows that the hostilities that this game is centered on have been going on for a long time.

Another thing to note: the song the dancing woman is singing has been translated into English. I’ll be going through the Lost in Thoughts All Alone’s lyrics and analyzing them when they appear in the actual story. The dance scene leads into circling shots of two families; judging from their different styles and fancy clothing, they are presumably related to the two kingdoms at war. The eastern family has a red and white color scheme, while the western one has a black and purple color scheme.

After that, the camera pans into a deep chasm until it arrives in a land of floating castles and islands, which looks interesting. Next, the opening cutscene shows the dancer in a lake, being choked by a large dragon-like creature. As the creature pushes her further underwater, its scales turn into light and fade away, turning into a humanoid form. Finally, the trailer shows the two swordsmen clashing as the dancer freaks out, setting her up as being an in-between that doesn’t want this conflict to grow. Her necklace flies off as she panics and lands in a pool of dark blue water, bringing us to the main menu.

The opening cutscene, like the trailer, hooked me in and made me excited to play this game. Even though I know that the game is going to bungle the story beats it sets up, I’m still excited to dive right it.

While staring at the dark title screen, which features only the quiet sound of waves for background noise, I get a strange hint of nostalgia. It’s a weird type of nostalgia, though. When I replied Awakening last fall, it felt familiar and comforting. Coming back to Fates, it doesn’t feel familiar. I recognize it, and it’s nostalgic, but it isn’t comforting. It’s like nostalgia for something I’ve forgotten, if that makes sense.

Character Creation

Jumping in, I am presented with three settings each for two types of difficulty. Normal/Hard/Lunatic control the strength of enemies, while Phoenix/Casual/Classic determine whether or not units come back to life. I’ll be checking out the other difficulties in a later entry, but for now, I create a Normal/Casual save file. Yes, it’s taking the easy path. But I barely remember this game and am playing it on a deadline, I don’t have the time to restart every level multiple times.

Next comes the character creator. We’re shown the player Avatar standing at the bottom of a lake and given the ability to customize gender, build, hairstyle, hair decoration (if a girl), hair color, face, scars, and voice. None of the options look bad, but the fact that it’s just choosing from a set list of faces is a bit disappointing. Understandable, considering the fact that these assets are drawn in, but that just raises the question of why there needed to be customization in the first place.

A few oddities about the character creator: hairstyles are sorted on two axis chart of Stylish/Simple vs Wild/Slick for boys and Long/Short vs Cute/Wild for girls. I don’t have time to go into each hairstyle, some are better than the canon versions, some are absolutely ridiculous, some are just boring. The short build is the canon design for Male Corrin while the tall build is canon for Female Corrin. This is probably for the best, because Short Girl Corrin looks like she’s eight. Finally, while both choices have three voice choices, two of Male Corrin’s choices are played by Cam Clarke (Corrin’s other male voice is Yuri Lowenthal, while Female Corrin’s voices are performed by Danielle Judovits, Marcella Lentz-Pope, and Stephanie Lemelin). Later games featuring Corrin stick with Clarke and Lentz-Pope.

I flip a coin and end up deciding on Female Corrin. I go with the generic design, because I really don’t care enough to customize her. Speaking of design, Corrin’s design is a mixed bag. Regardless of player choice, Corrin always wears the same outfit: a grey, black, and white suit of armor with a blue cape. Corrin’s generic hair color is also grey, but like a pinkish grey. I do appreciate Corrin being associated with grey, gold, and blue, making them visually appear to be between worlds, but I personally think the armor looks too complicated, looking more like a striped suit than actual armor. I also don’t get why it has a neck cuff.

Also, Corrin is barefoot. Always. This does give Corrin a sort of animalistic appearance, but that design element isn’t present anywhere else in Corrin’s design. Fire Emblem Awakening was kinda infamous for the fact that none of its characters had feet on their models and I get the vague feeling this game is overcompensating.

Next, we get to the details that actually matter. Name (I went with Corrin, because it’s the canon name and I don’t relate to this character at all), Birthday, Boon, Bane, and Talent. Boon and Bane determine stat growths, but they are labeled by personality traits instead of the actual stars, which is both more immersive and slightly annoying. I made Corrin Quick and Unlucky. Talent determines what Classes are available to you. I didn’t care, so I spun it randomly. It landed on Mercenary.

Prologue: The Ties that Bind

Now that we have our character created, let’s start the game. The game starts with the dancer singing Lost in Thoughts All Alone at the shore of a lake before walking into the lake and sinking below the waves. The song continues as she goes underwater, which means she must be amazing at ventriloquism. As she goes deeper underwater, ruins start to appear, floating in the water. The dancer swims into a bright light and disappears.

Smash cut to the Western prince riding on a horse, commanding an army as they charge into battle. The Eastern prince charges through his army, wielding a sword surrounded by lightning. The anime cutscenes in this game are beautifully animated and incredibly cool to watch. The Eastern prince introduces himself as Ryoma of Hoshido and challenges the Western prince, Xander of Nohr, to a duel. Xander accepts and charges into battle, wielding a sword surrounded by shadowy purple fog. The two clash as the cutscene ends.

We then see Corrin and a Hoshidan Pegasus Rider named Hinoka fighting an enemy, This fight is rendered as an actual game cutscene. Side note, the fact that this scripted battle features Hinoka guarding an attack for Corrin is a great way to foreshadow that mechanic. Hinoka mentions that Corrin looks distracted and reassures her, pointing out that all of Corrin’s siblings are here.

The game then moves onto introducing basic mechanics. If you move your cursor away and look at the other units on the battlefield, you’ll notice that all of them have unique names and designs. Fire Emblem Fates shows both armies off to you during the prologue, which is really interesting. Still, it must be noted that the Nohrian Units are marked as enemies and the Hoshidan Units are marked as allies. This isn’t super important now, but keep it in mind.

Between turns, Ryoma asks Xander why he’s invading and mentions a cowardly attack. Xander tells him to surrender and the two fight some more, both doing decent damage. The camera pans over to Xander’s siblings. The youngest of them, Elise, mentions that, due to a bridge collapse, they can’t get over to Corrin. Her older sister, Camilla, tells her not to worry, because their royal blood allows them to manipulate dragon veins. Camilla moves over to the river and a fireball flies out of her, striking the river and evaporating it. The third of Xander’s siblings, Leo, tells Elise to stay back as they attack the Hoshidans. The Hoshidan royals remark that Camilla’s use of a dragon vein means she’s royalty and the Hoshidan prince Tamuki smirks, saying that he’s always wanted to use a Nohrian royal as target practice.

The two armies of named characters start fighting and a Nohrian general named Hans shows up with an army of reinforcements. He then refers to his own army as cannon fodder and says king Garon sent him to kill them all, because he’s very obviously an evil person. A Hoshidan general shows up and we get some more tutorials as Corrin and Takumi beat up a single redshirt. And then the level just ends.

Corrin and the Hoshidan royals run up to the bridge to help out Ryoma. Xander calls out to Corrin, happy to have found her alive and well. He beckons her to come back to her family, which angers Ryoma, who shouts that Corrin is his sister. Xander counters, saying that Corrin is HIS sister. The other royals argue over which family owns Corrin and Hinoka states that the Nohrians kidnapped her. Xander points out that the Nohrians raised Corrin since she was a child and are her real family. As the two families fight over Corrin, the screen fades to white and we hear voices yelling for Corrin to wake up.

The prologue features some good teaching of mechanics, some bad teaching of mechanics, and an introduction to the game’s plot. It introduces two countries at war and Corrin, a bridge between the two that is caught up in this war. I just have one question.

What even is this chapter? It isn’t in media res, the actual point in the game this chapter is playing off of happens differently. The fact that it cuts to Corrin waking up implies that it’s a premonition of the future, but Corrin can’t see the future in other parts of the game. At least, I don’t remember that ever happening. Sure, this chapter introduces the plot, but it does it in such a confusing way.

Awakening did something similar to this, admittedly, but Awakening is a game about time travel. That scene happened, just in a different timeline. Awakening’s use of media res both set up the plot and helped foreshadow the game’s main twist.

Also, the Hoshidans are allies and the Nohrians are enemies. In a game about a morally grey conflict between two sides made up of real, suffering people, it’s not great to start out by calling one of them evil.

These two traits, aping Awakening without knowing why it worked and failing to be a morally grey story, are going to become much more apparent as the game goes on...

#fire emblem fates #fire emblem #corrin #fe14

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