#the bittersweet feeling that comes with watching someone you love succeed at the cost of them potentially moving on without you

[space-coupe]

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[i-like-plan-m]

the wind on another star

[On Ao3]

Lan Zhan wondered if pirates, of all things, were going to succeed where dozens of far superior fighters had tried and failed to kill him before.

The wide open void of space mocked him. Millions of escape routes within sight, and all worthless to him with a sabotaged hyperdrive and navigation system. The Hanguang-Jun was stranded in the middle of nowhere and caught in the crosshairs of a rather established band of mercenaries who doubled as pirates when they were between paid jobs.

Lan Zhan stood at the helm of his wounded starship and watched the empty escape pods drift away with so much fury he half expected them to explode.

Su She had conned his way onto Lan Zhan’s ship, hacked the navigation controls to drop them out of hyperspace and straight into the heart of a company of heavily armed mercenaries, and taken the only escape pod that he hadn’t already ejected into space.

Lan Zhan’s crew was trapped. Lan Zhan was trapped-- his ship’s weapon systems were mostly offline, brought partially back to life only by Lan Jingyi’s sheer desperation and skill. It wasn’t nearly enough to keep a dozen fighter planes and two cruisers at bay.

“Ambush,” Mianmian said tightly from beside him. “This was carefully planned, Captain.”

“What did we ever do to piss off these guys?” Lan Jingyi asked over the open comms, an edge of panic to his voice that made Lan Zhan’s mouth twist. It was his fault that his cousin was here in the first place, after all; he’d offered him a position on his ship due in part to Lan Jingyi’s skills and also to get him out of Lan Qiren’s hair. Apparently a too-clever, loud mouthed teenager trapped in the peaceful City of Clouds in Gusu had driven everyone up the wall.

He’d reminded Lan Zhan of Wei Ying-- the irrepressible character, the frequent mischief, a voice that ricocheted off of steel walls like a blaster shot. He was joy and humor and noise, a welcome change from the solemn silence aboard the Hanguang-Jun. It made him think of things loved and lost, bittersweet memories that perhaps made him more lenient with Lan Jingyi than his family would approve of.

And Lan Zhan had brought him straight into a trap, likely to be picked off by power hungry mercenaries or held as a hostage.

Even as the thought crossed his mind, the control panel beeped urgently, warning him that the cruisers had locked their missiles onto the Hanguang-Jun.

So they had decided to kill him after all.

His brother would be devastated, Lan Zhan thought distantly.

“I’ve still got the sonics,” Mianmian said, strapping herself into the copilot’s seat and reaching for the weapons controls. As his security expert and weapons master, Mianmian had seen them through insurmountable odds before; she remained as cool as ever under the flashing red warning lights. “I can pick off the missiles as they come, unless they unload several at once on us.”

“Can we use them to hit first?” Lan Jingyi asked, breathing heavily as he worked in the overheated mechanical room. “No one in the galaxy can counter Lan sonic tech.”

“They’re out of range,” Mianmian said regretfully.

“They haven’t attempted to hail us?” Lan Zhan asked, staring the largest cruiser down as it loomed over them in a blatant attempt to intimidate them. He suspected there was more at play here-- cruisers like this cost serious money, and even if simple mercenary crews got their hands on one, they didn’t keep them long. But two? Lan Zhan knew a set up when he saw it.

Lan Jingyi-- their mechanic and communications officer, because he was “skilled like that”-- made a sound of disgust. “No. So much for intergalactic law, right?”

“So many for just us,” Mianmian said, scowling out the front shield. “That’s half a damn army out there.”

The Hanguang-Jun had a reputation, though. Lan Zhan and his tiny crew went where the chaos was, and recently they’d taken on a number of jobs that had required the full force of their combined skill and strategy to survive. Except they’d not only survived, they’d demolished multiple bands of the rogue mercenaries that wandered the galaxy, terrorizing the helpless colonies too small or poor to defend themselves.

Someone had been paying attention, it seemed. And they had gone so far as to plant a spy-- Su She, hired only a week ago as extra support-- to lead them to an ambush in the middle of nowhere.

No one would know of their deaths for some time; the largest cruiser had an active jammer to block any distress signals, and Lan Zhan wasn’t due for a check in with his family for weeks.

He regretted the deaths of his crew. His friends. The loss his brother and uncle would soon face. And, privately, Lan Zhan regretted that he would never find Wei Ying. The bright, brilliant boy who’d vanished entirely after the Sunshot Wars, wherein the galaxy had come together to bring down Wen Ruohan before he could harness a sun’s energy to demolish entire planets.

So much left unsaid. But Wei Ying had broken the Wen remnants out of a prison world and disappeared into the darkness between the stars. No one knew where he’d gone. If he was alive. If they’d ever see him again.

Lan Zhan, it seemed, would never find out.

“Our shields?” He asked quietly, gripping the sleek rail separating the pilots’ seats from the rest of the control room so tightly his knuckles were white.

“In tatters,” Lan Jingyi said, trying to sound brave and landing somewhere around apprehensive. “I’m doing my best, Captain, but…”

“It’s alright,” Lan Zhan said gently. “We will try the sonic cannons.”

Mianmian’s eyes flickered to him, but she kept quiet. They both knew it would only take one missed shot to destroy their ship, and they were laughably outnumbered. But the comms were open and Lan Jingyi was listening intently from the engine room, so they kept their mutual understanding nonverbal.

“Well. It’s been an honor, Captain,” she murmured, too low for the comm line to pick up.

“For me as well,” Lan Zhan said, and dropped his hands to the pilot controls. He would try to help Mianmian dodge missiles as best he could, despite the futility of the situation.

The beeping became frantic, screaming in urgency as the second cruiser locked onto them. The cockpit was dim, lit only by the flashing warning lights that cast them in hues of red.

They waited, braced for the first burst of light that would signal a dispatched missile, surrounded on all sides, caught in a killing field with no way out.

Three bright souls on the cusp of darkness, facing a death that would leave them floating adrift in the eternal expanse of space. Not so terrible an end, he supposed, for a crew of wayfarers.

Mianmian suddenly jerked in place. “What the...?”

Lan Zhan’s attention snapped to her, wondering if he’d missed the beginning of the execution. He followed her baffled gaze, and then froze at the sight of a mid-sized, battered red cruiser dropping out of hyperspace, right on top of the armada.

He knew that cruiser. Had seen it only once, when a small collection of Wen prisoners had boarded it in the midst of a fierce storm with a slender, defiant figure guarding their escape.

The Yílíng Lǎozǔ drifted casually along, drawing the attention of the armada when its heavy artillery cannons dropped into active position. Half of the mercenaries turned their starships around to face the new threat.

“Is that who I think it is?” Mianmian whispered. Lan Zhan could not answer, though the hope in her voice matched the rising sun of his own.

“Is what who you think it is? What’s happening?” Lan Jingyi asked. They didn’t answer, too focused on the Yílíng Lǎozǔ and its unhurried course through the mercenaries’ ranks. Neither took much notice when he skidded into the cockpit to join them, breathing hard with wide, fever-bright eyes.

MianMian made a noise low in her throat when one of the cruisers disengaged their missile lock and turned it onto the Yílíng Lǎozǔ. “They’re going to get blown into pieces, why aren’t they moving out of range?”

Lan Zhan didn’t even notice the moment he stood, so tense his bones felt as though they’d shatter into pieces at a single touch. Wei Ying, what are you doing?

As if in answer, the largest cruiser angled to give chase to the Yílíng Lǎozǔ-- and exploded so abruptly and violently that Lan Zhan nearly staggered back in shock. Mianmian swore in mingled fear and delight, and Lan Jingyi exclaimed similar feelings at the top of his lungs.

“They dropped mines, did you see that?” She asked, leaning forward with bright eyes. “Completely off the radar-- we didn’t get so much as a blip, and this radar’s the only damn thing that is working on this ship.”

“Wei Ying has always been inventive,” Lan Zhan said, chest tight with something huge and undefinable.

“Fucking brilliant is what he is,” Mianmian said, and then made a face. “Don’t you dare tell him I said that.”

That implied Lan Zahn was going to see him, which promptly overrode every other thought in his head and made him feel as though he’d been struck in the head with a Lan sonic cannon.

Debris from the destroyed cruiser littered the battlefield, briefly hiding the Yílíng Lǎozǔ from sight.

“They won’t fall for that trick twice,” Mianmian muttered, leaning forward. “Careful, now.”

And then, so suddenly Lan Zhan and Mianmian made twin noises of shock, the starships closest to the Hanguang-Jun exploded. He thought at first it was another trick with the mines, but--

A ripple of darkness rocketed past the nose of their ship, far too fast to track. It was utterly undetectable except for the trail of destruction it left behind. The starship moved at impossible speeds; not even the Nie’s most advanced fighters could move like that, and they were the foremost engineers in the galaxy.

It took another moment, during which starships blew up like a pre-planned chain reaction, for Lan Zhan to realize there were two of these ships-- starfighters, combat aircraft built for speed and stealth. They worked off of each other like they were a hive mind, targeting clusters of enemy ships and annihilating them with some unknown invisible weapon that pulverized the ships into fragments.

A series of explosions along the remaining cruiser nearly tore it in half. Lan Jingyi whooped as it careened wildly out of control and erupted into blinding light.

Lan Zhan’s focus, though, was drawn inexplicably to the shimmer of darkness flitting through the ranks of the armada, slipping into impossibly narrow spaces, performing acrobatics that only someone absolutely fearless would even dream of.

Wei Ying had always taken “attempt the impossible” to heart.

“Look!” Lan Jingyi exclaimed, pointing outside their windshield to a furrow in the black void of space. A third ship, this one hovering just beside the Hanguang-Jun as a clear threat-- come any closer, and you’d be decimated like the rest of the ruined armada. Lan Jingyi waved, and the ripple of black dipped low and then back into place.

“What kind of weapon is that?” Mianmian wondered, watching in awe as a single shot from one of Wei Ying’s starfighters dissolved a starship into particles.

Lan Zhan remembered Wei Ying’s theories on dark matter, and he wondered.

It did not take long for the battle to end. None of the ships even had a chance to escape, and any that tried were chased down within a few heartbeats and destroyed.

The communications system blipped as the two starfighters finished off the remaining enemies. Lan Jingyi looked at Lan Zhan in question, who nodded and waited for him to open the channel to say, “This is Lan Zhan, Captain of the Hanguang-Jun.”  

“Hello, Captain,” someone replied. A young man, by the sounds of it, and politely cheerful. “Our captain has asked me to escort you to the Yílíng Lǎozǔ, if you are amenable.”

That was almost certainly not the way Wei Ying had likely worded it. Lan Zhan found himself wanting to smile. “I am amenable,” he said. “My ship is badly damaged and in need of repair.”

“We can help with that,” the boy replied, and was then interrupted by a voice that made Lan Zhan’s stomach swoop violently.

“Lan Zhan! Are you really going to let me put my grubby hands all over your shiny ship?”

He closed his eyes, emotion swelling in his chest. “Wei Ying can put his hands on anything of mine he wishes,” he said calmly, and meant every word.

He heard a squawk, a faint crash followed by an angry beep, and then a third voice calling in concern, “Wei-gongzi!”

“I’m fine, Wen Ning,” Wei Ying said hastily. Lan Zhan eyed the small piece of debris spinning away into the void, as though it had been clipped by the wing of a starfighter, perhaps.

“Ah,” Wei Ying laughed. “Lan Zhan, I didn’t expect you to have jokes now! I’ve missed a lot, it seems.”

“I have missed more.” Too much, if Wei Ying had made advancements like this; he’d clearly discovered some secret to the universe and left the rest of them far behind.

Lan Zhan had let him slip between his fingers once before. He was tired of being left behind.

“Wen Qing is bringing the Yílíng Lǎozǔ to you,” Wei Ying said with more warmth than Lan Zhan deserved. He had, after all, let Wei Ying down all those years ago. “I’ll see you soon, Lan Zhan.”

“Soon,” Lan Zhan agreed, and let the comm line fall to silence.

Soon. He felt his heart skip a beat in anticipation. Soon he would be face to face with Wei Ying again, the boy he’d loved and lost before he truly understood the potential for what it was, too busy being offended by the concept of his own stupid infatuation.

Soon, Lan Zhan thought again, and his tiny, hopeful smile was witnessed solely by the blanket of darkness and the glittering, luminous lights of a nearby star. A secret of his own, held between him and a universe full of possibility.

[xcoldcoffeesx]

perfect shot

This was it. Kill or be killed. The story of his life.

The tall silhouette approaches the window slowly and James catches his breath. It’s what he always does when he is about to pull the trigger.

Three.

His eyes are fixed on the point. No movement.

Two.

She just stops in the shot, perfectly still. His hands still aren’t shaking.

One.

It seems she is waiting for him and for the first time in his life, James believes.

a/n: so I needed to write something before the series finale and here we are. I've been rambling in my head alone since last episode so I though I'll do something about it. I have to confess that I wrote this on my phone at 2 a.m so I’m sorry if there are some mistakes x) (also English is not my first language). Stay safe!

Read on AO3

This was it. Kill or be killed. The story of his life.

“It's suicide” he knows she made her decision already and that there is nothing that he can do or say to change her mind but he can’t help it. He tries not to think about all the times they nearly lost each other, all the missing bullets, the hours of torture. He tries not to think about the blood, the pain, the death. “You wouldn't let me do it, so why should I?”

She looks at him and he swears at this very moment a second becomes a lifetime. There is something about the sparkle of fierceness she has in her eyes that always makes the world stop moving around him. The silence is peaceful, yet scary. There are so many things he wants to tell her, so unresolved feelings he wants to clear out but he can’t. Not again. His heart is still bleeding from last time. The bullet hasn't come out. He needs a sign first.

He never believed in destiny. How could he? The world is ugly. He knows that better than better than anyone. Hell, he is part of the reason why.

Her eyes are shining and before he can make a move she is the one closing the gap between them. She always is. He is the one waiting. Somedays, it seems like it is all he’s been doing since the moment they met. Perhaps even before that. Waiting.

He never experienced faith. It’s always been a foreign concept to him and well, the more he started climbing up in the business, the less it made sense. There was no point in believing. Prayers couldn’t save him in Afghanistan, nor in Texas. It wasn’t about faith. It was all him. Kill or be killed. Fighting or dying.

Surviving at all costs.

They kissed before but this one feels different. It’s deeper, heavier. Honestly, it takes him by surprise. He never thought she would kiss him again and he had come to term with it. They were different people now. Two sides of one coin, close and yet never together. Crossing paths without walking the same street.

Until survival caught up with them.

Then again, the timing is bittersweet. They’re on the road toward death. Their own camino de la muerte. She knows it too.

Fighting or dying.

James knows he is good at what he is doing. He wouldn’t trust anyone else. He doesn’t need prayers. Yet, for the first time in his life, he wishes he’d had faith. Faith in the world, faith in himself. Someone, something telling him that he made the right decision. That everything is going to be okay. He wishes he’d had a piece of hope he can hold on to. For the first time he actually wants to believe they can make it; that they are meant to.

He needs it.

Lying down on the rusty floor, ignoring his beating heart as he adjusts the rifle and chooses the perfect angle, it’s all he can think about.

Please let it work.

She looks surprised too when she pulls away. Not by the kiss, he guesses, but by the rush of emotions that came with it. His, hers. He knows she worked very hard to become untouchable. A queen who would never let anyone close, ready to sacrifice a part of herself to make sure nobody would ever have the chance to hurt her. Perhaps she thought she would never feel love again. Perhaps she thought she didn’t deserve it.

Either way now she knows.

It’s a beautiful day. The light is perfect and he can see the red walls and big closet in the room behind the big window. He planned everything, he made sure of it. James knows he’s been waiting for a couple of minutes only but it feels like hours. His breath is short but his hands aren’t shaking. As he looks at his watch James holds back a sigh. It shouldn’t be long now.

He’s never been one to talk a lot and make big speeches and declarations but in that moment, hundreds of words are rushing through his mind. There are so many things he wants to tell her but nothing comes out. Except for one thing.

“I love you” It comes so naturally he doesn’t even realize he says it.

In his mind he already told her tons of times before.

“Be careful”

“Answer me, are you hurt?”

“I need you to come back”

“I haven’t told Camila yet.” “Why didn’t you tell her?” “You just don’t get it do you?”

“We’re in this together”

“No, I can’t leave you”

“I’m gonna do whatever it takes to protect us”

“How are we going to get out of here?” “We’re not. You are”

“Since the first day we met, I’ve been trying to keep you alive. I’m still trying to”

He didn’t even know it at the time.

Perhaps they’re is really a meaning to life. Perhaps it was written from the beginning and he ended up being exactly where he was supposed to.

This is a good plan. If he succeeds, everything will finally be over. He’ll be free. They’ll all be. No more missions, no more Devon, no more just survival.

They’ll start living.

This is the only plan.

He kisses her again before he can start thinking about how he just shifted their entire relationship. Words are out, no more hiding. By now he hopes she believes him. It seems too little for everything they’ve been through together but they’re running out of time. She is meeting death soon, and so is he.

Because the truth is, he was ready to die for her.

He was also willing to kill.

Readjusting himself on the floor, James finally catches a glimpse of a silhouette behind the window. Long dark hair on white robe.

He is not a believer. But she is.

He’s never felt more human than in her arms. It is a feeling he can’t quite place. Love, respect, fear and joy all at once. They move as one and he knows he should feel afraid and angry about what’s coming next but he can’t right now.

He is just fucking happy.

So he kisses her again and again until they’re both back in the room -did he carry her at some point? he can’t even remember- and he runs his fingers on her waist, back, neck until her hair and unties her tight bun. Dark hair falls on her shoulders and bare collarbones and he smiles against her mouth.

“You have no idea how many times I wanted to do that” his breath is hot against her cheek and he doesn’t need to look to know she is blushing.

They stop a second to catch their breath and he caresses her cheek, putting a curl behind her ear at the same time.

“Teresa” it’s just a whisper and he is not even sure why he says her name but she does.

“It’s our only chance” she traces his bottom lip with her thumb and he knows she is not only talking about Kostya.

Camino de la muerte.

So he nods and their lips meet again. She quickly presses him to lose his sweater -his leather jacket is probably lost somewhere between the terrace and the room- and proceeds to kiss his neck and shoulders, right on his tattoos. He shivers.

“I was wrong” she comes back to look at him and she is smiling -a real, bright almost childish smile- “we don’t need another life”

“I love you”this time he is fully aware of what he says the second he says it and Teresa’s smile grows bigger.

By now he knows she believes him.

It’s time. One second, one shot. No more chances,  no space for mistakes. Kill or be killed. Fighting or dying. He must not overthink. After all, he’s done that hundreds of times before and never missed from this distance. His mind is on fire, screaming loudly but his body is ready. No shake, no sweat.

“We could just run away right now” she whispers in his neck, arm wrapped around his side “disappear”

He is playing with her hair, eyes closed.

“I would like that.”

“Start over” she sighs “I always wanted to live around mountains. We could go to Switzerland”

He smiles as his mind wanders. It’s nice to stop for a second and just allow dreams to fill in.

“What will you do in the mountains?” He asks, voice hoarse

“Read. All day” she pops on her elbows to look at him “you?”

“Maybe I’ll give Pote's recipes a try. I’ll probably need 5 to 10 years though” they both chuckle and for the second time in a few hours he finds himself completely happy “also I’d like to have a dog. A big one.”

“I’ve always imagined you with a dog” she kisses him softly, letting her lips hovering other his, both of their breath interlacing.

Their smiles are mirroring but quickly fade away as the silence takes its place.

“But we can’t, can we?” Teresa falls back on the pillows and he rolls on his side to face her.

“No we can’t.”

They both know what is coming. They’ve known for quite a while now.

“Do you think he’ll ask you to do it?”

“Probably”

“Then you should.”

The tall silhouette approaches the window slowly and James catches his breath. It’s what he always does when he is about to pull the trigger.

Three.

His eyes are fixed on the point. No mouvement.

Two.

She just stops in the shot, perfectly still. His hands still aren’t shaking.

One.

It seems she is waiting for him and for the first time in his life, James believes.

“If anything happens I want you covered” he doesn’t want to think about all the things that could go wrong but it’s his job to. Worst, it’s is who he is. “Two shots. Use them wisely”

“I love you” it’s sudden and she is just whispering but he hears it loud and clear

They finally found each other and yet they have to be apart.

Teresa made him a believer.

“Are you willing to put your life on the line?”

“More than ever”

He looks at her throat dry.

“I know what I’m asking” she says softly caressing his cheeks

“No you don’t” and really she can’t possibly imagine how broken and torn he feels but he closes his eyes under her touch. He knows she is right “what if I miss?”

“You won’t” her fingers sliders on his torso “I trust you. I believe in you. I love you.”

Teresa believes in him.

“It’s our only shot to get out of the cave”

So he pulls the trigger.

[adoranymph]

That’s right! It’s been far too long, and I need to do another discussion of, what remains to this day, my #1 anime: Fate/Zero. Oh darling, how I’ve missed talking about you.

First off, I’m probably one of the few people on the planet who, for the most part, doesn’t take too much issue with the concept of prequels. I get why such stories are flawed and inherently so. Going into that kind of detail on something that was only mentioned in passing as a previous event in an original work can be detrimental to that work, punching in plot holes and whatnot. Plus, it takes away the mystery that some find more appealing about the “story before”: giving a detailed account of that takes away that mystery.

Speaking for me personally though, I kinda like it. I mean, I’m the kind of person who squees on the inside at stuff like Thranduil at the end of the third Hobbit film telling his son Legolas that he might want to look into finding a Dunedain ranger named “Strider”, a.k.a. Aragorn, son of Arathorn, a.k.a. the once and future king of Lord of the Rings, timeline consistency be damned! I love Easter Eggs in all their forms.

Which means perhaps I’m biased on this opinion, and to a degree, I am. But, I still think objectively as well as subjectively that Fate/Zero really does work well as a prequel.

Why?

A few reasons, but:

The short answer? It’s a tragedy.

In both the classical and the emotional gut-punching sense.

In the classical sense, we’re talking about actions that have consequences that are inevitable. In the emotional gut-punching sense, it’s that those consequences utterly destroy our heroes and heroines in their feels.

Anyone who’s experienced the original Fate/Stay Night, either in anime or visual novel form, or both, already knows that the consequences to many of the actions taken by the characters in Zero are inevitable. At the same time, for anyone who’s watching it before watching any of the other Fate material as a stepping off point for the franchise, it still works as a strong story of characters who sabotage their own goals through their own flaws, made tragic by how earnest they are in endeavoring to overcome them. Not to mention the sheer number of feels and brutal deaths and OMG this anime. (They didn’t give its original light novel writer, Gen Urobuchi, the sobriquet of “Urobutcher” for nothing.)

Sure, in the end, some plot threads are left frayed and fluttering in the breeze because the main Stay Night plot points are all set up here at Zero‘s conclusion (though that does produce the disadvantage of no longer making the story twists in Stay Night…well…twists). Despite that though, there is still a completeness to the ending.

Somehow the loose ends are written so they don’t feel loose. Sure we find out in the Heaven’s Feel route of Stay Night that Illya is Kiritsugu’s precious daughter that he was unable to save. Sure, in the Unlimited Blade Works route, Kirei gets his just-desserts for that little infraction of killing Rin’s father, Tokiomi Tohsaka. Sure, in the Fate route, the revelations that Saber was a gender-bent King Arthur and was Kiritsugu’s servant in the previous Grail War come to light.

And knowing those things, or lack thereof, can affect how you watch Zero. Knowing them can fill you with excitement when you see these addressed in the prequel (at least for me, since again, this is something I actually like about prequels). Not knowing them gives them their own fresh and engaging life in the flow of the narrative.

When watching Zero, we last see Illya waiting hopefully in the snowy Einzberns’ castle for her beloved father Kiritsugu to come back to her, only to learn that because he’d tried to destroy the Grail (because it’s corrupted), the Einzberns considered him a traitor and shut him out, preventing him from seeing her ever again.

We last see Rin at her father’s funeral. Kirei (who presided over that funeral no less) gives her the ceremonial dagger that her father himself had gifted to him for being his pupil in magic, only to immediately use it to literally stab him in the back. It’s only upon receiving the knife and learning that it was her father’s, that Rin finally allows herself to cry, Kirei secretly relishing her tears and the knowledge that he just gave her the weapon he’d used to murder her father as a present, and she’s none the wiser.

We see Sakura resigned to her fate as a future vessel for the Grail while carrying the weight of the Matou Family crestworms inside slowly killing her, despite her “uncle” Kariya Matou’s efforts to save her by winning the Grail for his wicked father. Efforts that were, for lack of better term, “ill-fated“.

We see Saber summoned at the conclusion of the first episode, with Kiritsugu believing that King Arthur was well a King, only to learn right off the bat that she was a woman in disguise the whole time (and that becomes a thing).

Regardless of knowing these things prior, the writing itself gives the scenes that are meant to allude to these later plot points a gravitas of their own worthy of praise. I am in a bit of a weird position where I started watching Fate/Stay Night (2006), which followed the first story route, the Fate route, with Saber (Arturia) as the heroine. Then I dropped it about a quarter of the way and bypassed straight to Zero. I was just too excited to wade through the lackluster production values of F/SN ’06. So I both knew and did not know things going into Zero. I had the opportunity to see certain things with a well-crafted setup in Zero, and still be engaged by both them and by things that were new to me in the sense that I wasn’t aware of their relevance not only to the Fate route, but to Unlimited Bladeworks, and Heaven’s Feel routes respectively.

Though I knew that it was going to come up that Kiritsugu was Saber Arturia’s Master in the Fourth War, I was still jarred by how frigid their relationship was pretty much from the word go. And it was interesting seeing someone as openly passionate about justice as Saber was getting stonewalled by someone like Kiritsugu, seeing as how his own passion for justice turned out to have been just as great. It’s just that he’s already let “reality” turn all that into a cold, calculating fire that’s compelling to watch burn so slowly, that struggle between that BBC Sherlockian sense of “Will caring about them [people] help save them?” and caring too much being the whole reason for what he does. That idea of wanting to bring the world salvation through an end to conflict, weighed movingly against how much he cares for his own family. It’s something that craftedly underpins his whole character. And anything like that will never be boring for me.

Rin meanwhile, even at a tender age, shows great potential as a mage, having started her education in magecraft in Zero. There’s an entire episode in there dedicated to how far she’s come and how far she still has to go. And it’s still exciting for those who already know that she’s going to be the capable Master of Archer in the Fifth Holy Grail War of Stay Night because of how well those parts showing such are executed in Zero, as equally exciting as it is to see it as someone going in blind.

Kariya Matou is motivated by the purest of things, love, to save Sakura Matou (formerly Tohsaka as Rin’s little sister) after she’s adopted into the Matou family simply to be used and abused in the worst ways. But for all that, it isn’t enough for him to succeed and failure is one of the most brutal things to watch.

Just about one of the most precious things I’ve seen in anything, never mind anime, is the scene of the walnut-finding game Kiritsugu and his daughter Illya would often play, because we see them play it one last time before Kiritsugu leaves for the Grail War at the beginning of the show. Even without being aware that this is the last time that they will ever see each other again, the hug goodbye that Kiritsugu gives Illya is still bittersweet because of how Kiritsugu’s character has been set up as this sober and reserved man carrying the heavy burden of his wife’s inevitable death, the cost for his wish to save the world, beautifully and poignantly juxtaposed against him acting playful, happy even, with their only child. (That, and well, there’s me who’s outed herself as a sucker for daddy-daughter relationships in fiction.)

Being a tragedy then, not only are all of the characters’ fates inevitable, and consequences of their own flaws, but they all end up spiraling apart into ultimate despair, with just the tiniest ray of hope at the end (which is the tease for Stay Night‘s continuation of the story, all three story routes accounted for). So what we’re left with is characters who either died broken, or survived broken, and for those who survived broken, we see that despite that, they find some reason to go on living (even if not for very much longer, and or even if not for the best of reasons). Just the same, it’s inspiring. Very Bluthian, actually. Despite all the trauma, it’s given worth of its own in that very last scene with Kiritsugu and his adopted son, Shirou, the protagonist of Stay Night, promising that things can be turned around for the better. That always gets me. From the very first time I watched it, I knew I had watched something incredible. An unduplicatable experience in the vein of finishing Harry Potter or Avatar: the Last Airbender.

It’s also something of a reset button where the anime adaptations of the Fate franchise are concerned. Somewhat ironically, the anime was produced so that the later adaptation of the Unlimited Blade Works and Heaven’s Feel story routes from the visual novel would work as sequels. Sequels to the prequel, as it were.

Then there’s the bottom line. It’s just a damn good show. Beautiful animation, beautiful music, beautiful character writing. Of all of the adaptations, it’s the one that works best as a standalone as probably Fate fans are ever going to get, given the nature of the source material. And with it being so good, it also has considerable rewatch value, which means that those “twists” that get “spoiled” are worth watching in the same regard that anything that has a known twist going in it is still worth watching.

And that…is why Fate/Zero actually works as a prequel.

Keeping this link up!

Why Fate/Zero Works As A Prequel That's right! It's been far too long, and I need to do another discussion of, what remains to this day, my #1…

[killthebxy]

i have so many mixed feelings about the season finale.

so.

many.

mixed.

feelings.

and i don’t really know where to start... so i think i’ll start at the end. and i’ll start by making a separation in my analysis.

1. if we look at s08 ep6 on its own

          i’ve been writing Jon Snow since January 24th, 2017. s07 happened during April-May 2017, if i remember well? which means, some of you who’ve been with me from the start of my blog have watched me watching s07; have watched my reactions and my opinions and my rants. ever since then, i have been very open and very vocal about how much i loathed the idea of Jon as the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, and Jon eventually sitting this throne as king --- those of you who’ve followed me for less time also likely know this very well, because gods know i never shut up about it. so, considering the finale that Jon had... someone might tell me: you must be very happy! and, well... i am very happy. i was not made to see Jon sitting the throne. i was not made to see everyone call him Agony and hail him and glorify him. i got to see him wearing his black cloak again and returned to where he belongs --- away from thrones and kings and queens, away from the ungrateful northern lords, making peace with the free folk. hell, i even got to see him hugging Ghost, imagine. who would have thought, Jon Snow loves his soulmate more than his own life. sarcasm aside... yesterday, i told a couple of you that i had two final, very little requests of ep6: i wanted to see Jon crying (because i had read the leaks, and thus i knew what to expect) and i wanted to see those beautiful curls freed from the bun. and i got this. i got to see, FINALLY, after weeks, Jon Snow and not Agony Targaryen. loyal to the end, struggling with the cruel decision he had to make, quoting master Aemon, accepting his fate, doing his duty no matter the cost --- as he once did with Ygritte. if we look at this episode only, i got everything i ever hoped for, and for this i am grateful. and yet...

2. we cannot look at s08 ep6 on its own

          and this is where it all begins and ends. because ep6 does not exist on its own. does not exist in a void. nothing of what happened came out of spontaneous generation. Dany wasn’t suddenly the mad queen. Tyrion wasn’t suddenly clever again. Grey Worm wasn’t suddenly thirsty for blood and revenge. Jon Snow wasn’t suddenly Jon Snow and not Agony Targaryen. and this is why everything in this season is irredeemable to me, no matter how much i loved Jon’s finale if we look at it objectively and pragmatically.

          do you know why i love George’s writing so much? it’s not for the prose --- very honestly, 90% of the persons i roleplay with write better than him. it’s not completely for the storyline, either, though it is amazing --- very honestly, some of the book chapters are boring and long and fillers and with descriptions and details that no one cares about. i love George’s writing, however, for his absolutely brilliant talent to manage such a vast universe. he’s got so many major characters, thrice as many minor characters, even more characters that only appear at the end of the books, listed as part of the great houses and such. the experience of reading A Song of Ice and Fire, and least for me, was that --- you get to a point you lose track of what’s going on, exactly because there is SO MUCH going on. so many characters, so many stories, so many destinies. and i remember myself often asking: how the hell will some of this make sense in the end, this is huge and so complex. and then... then you get to A Dance with Dragons... and, fuck, it does make sense. ALL of it starts tying together. all the details, all the little plot twists, all the symbolism, all the foreshadowing --- it all comes around and ties together, it all makes sense. all these many, many parts come together in a whole --- and this is why i praise George so much. this is why i admire his writing so much. because, even if i am upset with some choices, it all makes sense. it all is fluid, coherent, so pleasing to read and to follow and so goddamn captivating.

          and then you look at s07 and especially s08... and you find nothing of this. where George does kill a lot of characters, he keeps the bulk of them and considers all of them --- and D&D simply kill them all off for not having any better use for them. where George writes intricate, complex, layered characters and 99% of them are purely made of grey areas and grey morals and so very few are completely good or completely evil --- and D&D turned them completely flat, shallow, predictable, cliché, borderline boring if not downright so. where George named this the world of ice and fire and makes it so that the big, overarching theme is flawed, very different humans trying to gather together to survive the common, legendary foe --- D&D were done with the Long Night in like 40 minutes, and the only thing dark about it was the terrible lighting that makes iconing ep3 a nightmare. and i could go on, but i think i’ve made my point. D&D haven’t the 10th of George’s talent --- and, hey, i can accept this. -i- don’t have the 10th of George’s talent for sure, and very few people in this world have the 10th of George’s talent when it comes to tying together such a huge, deep, complex plot. and i can live with this. i could live with predictable, cliché writing in s07, and still be able to enjoy it at least half the time. i wasn’t happy, but i was content.

          but s08? well. s08, the way i see it, was simply two things: 1) D&D trying to be George and trying to go for plot twists and trying to make a bittersweet ending of some sort... and then 2) D&D realizing they are as far from George as the Earth is from Pluto, and going fuck it we’ll resolve everything based on shock value. and i wish i was joking or exaggerating or being sarcastic --- but they have stated this themselves and are proud of it, apparently. you only have to google it and you’ll easily find it. these two gentlemen looked at, say, Daenerys, and asked themselves: we want her to be the mad queen in the end, what can we do to lead to this outcome? and they did it. it’s as simple and as linear as this. and literally everything and everyone, logic and common sense included, gets thrown under the rubble for the sake of making this happen. and this is why i have zero respect and zero credits for them, at the end of all things, even if i did love Jon’s finale when i look at it isolated from everything else.

because.

          yes, Jon Snow, the honorable man with a good, kind, merciful heart who does whatever needs to be done for the sake of his people, no matter the toll it takes on himself. check, this is the Jon i know and love. Jon Snow, not a glorified savior who succeeds where everyone else fails, not Azor Ahai reborn, but a tool, an instrument used to bring salvation --- Lightbringer itself. check, this is the Jon i know and love. Jon Snow, who was never destined for a happy ending, carrying the guilt and suffering the consequences of his decisions. check, this is the Jon i know and love. but what happened before this? what about everything that led him to this? 

          book!Jon and show!Jon were always different, this isn’t a new thing. even during seasons 1-5, where the show followed the book canon for the most part (at least in Jon’s case), they were already different. show!Jon has a lot more personal agency, in that he chooses to do a lot of the things he does --- while book!Jon tends to get sucked into the whole ordeal, and he tries to navigate it as well as he can. for an example: show!Jon offered himself to go with Qhorin Halfhand, book!Jon was chosen by Qhorin and caught by surprise and even lord commander Mormont was like ????. another example: show!Jon sends Grenn to hold the gate against Mag the Mighty and brings on himself the responsibility of commanding the Wall during the attack, book!Jon gets command imposed on him by Donal Noye and then again in the morning by master Aemon. again, i could go on and on, but i have made my point. regarding all this, while i do prefer book!Jon, i never hated show!Jon. some parts, even, like the battle at Hardhome, i honestly loved and i wish i could get that POV in the books.

          now, s06... post-revival. this is where the books-show rift happens for good, as they ran out of source material. very sincerely, i did not watch s06 as a whole --- i only watched Jon’s scenes. so if you ask me what was going on otherwise, i don’t know and i don’t really regret this choice. s06 Jon is a sort of limbo for me, because i cannot say if his portrayal was good or bad. clearly, this is when he starts making stupid decisions and being far more reckless, but... as mentioned, this is post-revival. this is a man who was stabbed in the heart by his own sworn brothers, who got wrenched back out of the grave, who immediately got told: hey you gotta keep fighting and you gotta start by going and reclaiming Winterfell and saving your little brother. given this context, can i judge him for not being himself? i can’t and i never did, which is why i accepted s06 (again, re: Jon Snow only) for what it was. and i was content with it, even if the revelation of his parentage for show!canon did not impress me.

          s07. this coincided with the birth and infancy of my blog, and honestly i was so excited to get to share this experience with everyone --- and this much was absolutely amazing. i was writing my Master’s thesis back then and i had a lot more free time, so i was able to stay up late and watch it live... and, boy, was that a ride. i had so much fun back then, and all of it thanks to my beautiful followers and friends who were there to live through this with me. but as far as the season itself went... yeah, that was the beginning of the end. because, unlike s06, Jon didn’t have excuses anymore to be stupid and reckless. and yet he still was. he still just grabbed a bunch of sturdy men and ventured into the fucking Frostfangs in the middle of winter without even bringing 1 (one) horse, just to name the most blatant of stupid examples. and the whole glorified superhero savior vibe? my good beans, i wrote a meta with 4000+ words to justify why that frozen lake scene was total bullshit and why Jon did die his second death there --- exactly out of spite for how much i hated it. how much i hated that D&D were turning the boy i love into a commercial protagonist who does the impossible and suffers no consequences and gets to have everyone else’s portrayal tossed under the wreck for the sake of glorifying him further. Rickon was already a plot device, Benjen Stark was a plot device, and i had the sinking feeling it would not stop there. s07 had bad and lazy writing, was terribly rushed and with very little character development, was pointing towards a very obvious and very cliché ending: Jon & Dany, the power couple, sitting the throne, having a baby, living happily ever after.

          and today... today i ask myself: how can you fuck up a plot so much, to the point where i wish i was made to see this cliché, predictable ending instead? i spent a year and a half whining about how much i did not want to see Jon sitting the throne... only to now look at the finale and be like --- sweet summer child, what did you know of fear. because, hey, yes, Jon was reborn from his ashes and Agony was cast aside and he got exactly the endgame i prayed for --- but at what cost? to get here, i had to see ALL the northern lords and half his family spitting on him for his decision to bend the knee. to get here, i had to see him literally say: it’s true, my name is Aegon Targayen. to get here, i had to see him avoiding Dany and not having the balls to talk to her about it until the very last moment. i had to see him plan the defenses of Winterfell like a complete stupid idiot who has no clue what he is doing. i had to see him forgetting Ghost is his soulmate. i was even deprived of the thing i love more in Kit’s acting, which is fighting on the ground --- for the sake of an epic dragon battle, yes, but that by rights he should not have survived. i was denied a one-on-one battle with the Night King, no matter who’d win and no matter who’d get to destroy the NK in the end. i got an epic moment of him roaring back at an undead dragon, yes, but what came in the next episodes got me to the point of headcanoning that he died during that moment. i had to see him not even mourn Edd’s death and going for Lyanna Mormont gods know why, who openly questioned and defied him. i had to see him being the by-the-book definition of a douchebag who sits drinking with friends and completely ignoring his girl who’d just lost one of her closest loved ones and was so clearly dissociating throughout that entire feast. i had to see him being described as so stupid that he obviously bent the knee for love and Dany was going to play him like a fiddle. i had to see him practically being made to choose between his family and the girl he loves. I HAD TO SEE HIM ABANDONING GHOST. i had to see him, again, pull away from Dany when she needed him most --- and, yes, in show!canon it is incest and all that, but you don’t have to fuck or kiss the girl you love to be there for her. i was denied, again, 1 (one) decent fighting scene on the ground because all he did at KL was to cut down a few soldiers with a few basic slashes.

          and, very frankly, what bothers and disgusts me the most out of all of this hellhole... i had to see character after character ruined, completely ruined in their essence, for the sake of stating: hey Jon Snow is a good guy! Rhaegal, who had to be butchered for the sake of triggering Dany and also because Dany and Jon and Tyrion were too stupid to remember Euron’s fleet still existed.  Missandei, who had to be butchered in chains for the sake of triggering Dany. Grey Worm, who had to be metaphorically butchered and turned into a blood-thirsty savage longing for blind revenge for the sake of Agony Targaryen, our lord and savior, being the merciful savior who claims pity for unarmed men. the women of King’s Landing, who had to be raped by northern soldiers, again for the sake of Agony being the good guy who saves one of them. and at the end of the day... Daenerys Targaryen. the little girl who wanted to go home and return to her house with a red door. who was exiled and sold and raped and harassed and humiliated and abused and betrayed and used and objectified. who made terrible choices more than once, yes and i erase none of them, but who made them with a good intention and who paid the price of said choices --- like Jon himself did, like we all, flawed human beings, do. the strong, willful, kind woman who heard Jon’s plea for help and went to save him and his men beyond the Wall and who lost one of her children for it. the queen who wanted to break the wheel and to make this world a better place. the breaker of shackles. Mhysa. she, who was never her father. reduced to this, for the sake of making Jon Snow the good honorable man who does his duty even at expense of his own interest and his own happiness.

          dear Mr. Daniel B. Weiss and dear Mr. David Benioff: do you know since when Jon Snow is a good honorable man who does his duty even at expense of his own interest and his own happiness? since always. since 283 AC. since far, far before you got your incompetent, untalented hands on him. and he never needed to be shown as one --- he was one. without the need to sacrifice 90% of the plot and the characters to make him seem so. he IS so. and this is why i’ll never forgive you, even if you did give me exactly the finale i wanted. because what you did to him, in order to bring him here? honestly, you deserve no redemption. ever. and if there is one thing that makes me extremely, utterly, earnestly happy today, it is that never again you will touch him. Jon Snow belongs to George, and he belongs to me, and he belongs to every beautiful talented roleplayer who writes him, and he belongs to every beautiful talented roleplayer who writes muses who interact with him. never to you, again. and for this i thank the old gods of the forest. today, Jon Snow is finally at rest. and, as of today, i can finally stop writing out of spite --- and return to writing because i love this boy.

[eyeforgold]

Prompt #17: Wilt

"A few more steps. You're nearly there, boss. He's very close and then, it won't hurt anymore, think of Phiros."

"It hurts... Phi, I wanna see my Phi." Come the words from the struggling Miqo'te, her limbs burning with every step she takes. I won't falter. I won't fail you, my love.

A heavy sigh is released as her foot finally touches the upper floor of their mansion, Moriarty smiling at her as she keeps close to the Miqo'te, her dark hands hovering over the Miqo'te shoulders, ready to catch her should she fall.

"Phiros?" Ruby calls out as she slowly approaches their large canopy bed. Unable to see in such darkness, she is loathe to awaken her husband so abruptly but they have very little time to spare as the aether burns her from the inside.

The older hyur woman turns on the light, familiar with her employer's house and only notices a neatly made bed, clearly lacking one Au'ra man. Ruby can only blink at the empty bed, surprised and unable to comprehend what is happening. Where could Phiros have gone so late into the night?

Her confusion turns to anger as she notices a thin white square on Phiros' pillow and limps up to it, her control on the overwhelming aether fraying as her anger swells. Before she even begins reading the note in her hand, she snaps at her employee, her whip like voice echoing in the bedroom, the wooden feet creaking and breaking off the bed along with the crack of her words.

"Find him! FIND HIM!"

Sizzling hot tears run down her cheeks as she reads her husband's letter, wishing her to find another love and to remember him. The mansion shakes in her fondations as Ruby clenches her bloodied fist to hold on to the slippery aether. Her body was not made to host such a quantity of aether, not even the previous Padjals she murdered had as strong an aether as Kan-E-Senna. Narrowed eyes look down at her hand, still covered in the blood of Gridania's beloved leader.

It had taken months of intense stalking and constant reports to find this one occasion for Ruby to syphon her aether and Phiros wished to be remembered?! After she had succeeded twice at mending his broken aether slightly, pushing back the time of his death! He wishes for her to move on?!

"Stupid idiot big dumb lizard husband! Where did you go?! What do you expect me to do without you?"

As her words echo into the empty bedroom, Ruby feels more in control over the Padjal's aether, her palms no longer burning at the aether leak though the pain is ever present. A glance down at her hands shows unblemished skin, belying her fifty-two years of age and resembling more her thirty year old's body, the aether hurting and healing her body at the same time, causing her to revert to a more youthful appearance as long as the aether remained within her. Once she has used it on Phiros however...

Bah, no use thinking about that when her love could be dead in a goddamn ditch somewhere. It has now been an hour since she has sent Moriarty to track down her husband, her missing heart, as she reads and rereads his farewell note. It is disgustingly Phiros like in every way, wishing her happiness, leaving her hidden presents, getting people to watch over her. And yet, he had all but forgotten one thing: she could not and would never give up on him. No matter the cost.

Perhaps if she had told him how she had managed to draw in such quantities of aether twice over the past eight years, he would have understood. Nevertheless, she had chosen to keep silent as to the blood on her hands, the blood she has willingly shed in his name.

After another hour of painful ruminating over the now crinkled letter, her ears catch the sound of incoming footsteps, a fast pace that was barely short of a run. Heavy and careless. Adler.

Though he tries to hide it, her retainer cannot cover quickly enough his wide eyes at seeing her look much younger. The man takes a second to compose himself before resuming as if nothing of note had happened, which his next word would confirm.

"Phiros went to Coerthas. We don't know where exactly yet but there's an airship waiting for you in Limsa."

Her pink slit eyes flash white then hot pink as she follows the younger Raen outside, her constantly aching body forgotten at the thought that she might have a chance to find him before he did himself in.

Bloody Coerthas of all places. What the hell are you thinking, Phi? Are you planning to turn into ice? I'll set this world on fire if it's what it takes to warm you up.

A twisted smile takes over her face as the fingers of her right hand snap together, dried blood flaking off at the gesture, and the broken bed feet, the split open couch and the overturned bookshelf right themselves, the wood and fabric as good as new as she exits the house. It would not do to have Phiros witness the remnants of her temper tanttum.

I'm gonna heal you, bring your stupid butt home and kiss you until you die in my arms ten years from now.

__________

The Vault?! The highest floor of The Vault?! Where she'd lost 'Chefant and nearly lost Phiros twenty years ago. Her husband is apparently the biggest moron that has ever inhabited Hydaelyn.

Insults and vehement thoughts run on repeat through her mind as Ruby climbs up the many steps of this Ishgardian hell, her skin crawling as the cold morning wind hits her feverish skin, the aether enhancing every pain, twinge and itch in her body.

Her raspy voice faintly echoes through the high walls of the former Ishgardian seat of power, the shimmery white sheen encompassing her body lighting her path as the sun's morning ray were barely reaching the high windows.

"I will find your stupidly big scaly old man butt and I will kiss you first, because I love you, and then I will slap you until you learn to never run away from me again... Making me waste so much time trying to find you! Keeping this aether inside me is no easy feat you big dummy!"

Breathless, her legs trembling, she stops for a moment, hand clenching the railing to keep standing. Her eyes look pleadingly towards the rotunda one stairwell up as she screams.

"YOU BETTER BE ALIVE AND LISTENING TO ME UP THERE!"

You better be alive... Her anger fades as she continues her painful trek up, fear and worry clogging up her throat as she tries to push out of her mind the idea of Phiros' corpse welcoming her. What would she do if he was gone? What wouldn't she do, was the bigger question. Could she bring someone back to life with such quantities of aether? More importantly... Would Phiros want to be brought back? He had left to die on his own terms, and to rob that from him only to inflict him a painful death...

Stop, stop! He's alive, I know it. He's too strong to die from a little hypothermia. He's Phiros, he's unbreakable.

"In sickness and health we vowed, and you don't get to decide when sickness gets to much for me." Ruby pants out as she finally reaches the Rotunda, the sun now high and lighting the exterior walkway. Immediately, she spots Phiros' slumped body against a marble wall. Unmoving.

"Phiros!" Her cry tears through the air, her body appearing next to her lover in the blink of an eye. Now kneeling over him, his paleness is all too obvious against his dark armor, accentuated by his white hair, tied in their usual ponytail. A sob escapes her as she notes this silly detail, his ever rebellious lock of hair framing his cheek, the tip resting over his blue lips.

"Oh my love, what have you done."

As she falls to her knees, her magic seems to have a will of its own, tendrils of aether reaching out to Phiros, curling around his throat, wrists and chest. Her mouth seeks his cold blue lips, hoping for any sort of reaction as her fingers attempt to feel a pulse in his veins. His body is too cold and stiff for her fingers to feel his pulse, yet her magic brings her the assure that his heart is indeed still beating, though very slowly.

The tears run down her face, milky and aglow with churning aether, the Padjal's life force attempting to leak out of her every time she uses her magic, testing her control and threatening to hurt Phiros instead of heal him. By now, her youthful appearance is beginning to fade proportionately to the lost aether, pain shooting from her knees as they carry her weight on the marble floor.

"What should I do?" She asks her dying lover, her tear stained lips never parting from his long as she cups his face, brushing the stray lock of hair behind his horn in a bittersweet motion. "Should I fix your aether first and then warm you up? Will you be able to hold on? What if you don't wake up? What if I fail? ...Phiros, you stupid idiot! How could you expect me to live without you when I never even felt alive before I met you."

A wet choked laugh turns into a disgusted sigh as she notices the dry blood on her hands dirtying Phiros' face, her hands glow a yellow light and the blood burns off her hands before she gently brushes it off Phiros' face with her shirt sleeve. "I have to succeed, darling, I have to. If you knew the things I've done for you, would you judge me?" She shakes the maudlin thoughts out of her mind, she has a job to do. I've gone too far to stop now.

One last kiss, I need it. She stifles back a sob as she feels his cold unloving lips against hers and carefully tilts Phiros off the wall until his head now laid on her lap, one hand curled around his throat while the other rests over his heart. Controlling her raging aether in order to mend Phiros' broken aether pathway requires minutiae and focus, as well as something to ground her, to force her to forget the sizzling pain in her body, or to anticipate the painful consequences of releasing this healing aether. Thus she begins to speak, hopeful that her husband could somehow hear her through his comatose state.

"Remember that night in the Royal Menagerie? When we looked at the stars and you told me stories about Hingashi. I remember the legend of the firebird you told me. At first I thought I could find it, y'know, I thought: I'll catch myself a phoenix and my husband will be fine." A bitter chuckle escapes her as more milky white tears roll down her face onto Phiros' chest and neck. "Turns out it's not as easy as you'd think to find a phoenix... But I thought, it's okay, I have access to endless aether, I'll be even better than the firebird, I'll figure out a way to save you."

Around them the landscape changes, a meadow of green tall grass and white and red flowers grow in circles around the couple, growing through the splintering marble floor as the loose aether she cannot fully control conjures an idyllic vision of the Royal Menagerie, pulled right out of her memory.

"I nearly failed you, my love... Yes, yes, I know you'll say you gained a few years thanks to me but I want more, so much more. One more hour. One more day. One more anniversary spent in each other's arms. I've always been greedy, haven't I? Your greedy kitten."

Ruby holds back a scream as she directs the flow of aether, slowing the relentless wave into a slow trickle meant to seeking the network of his aether to mend the damage made to him when he was younger. Each time she had syphoned the aether off a Padjal, she had managed to improve his flow of aether, granting him a longer lifespan. She had however never told him how she had done it, but Phiros had looked at her worriedly every time before giving in once he realized it was working.

Perhaps if she had been more forthcoming about her plans, if she'd told him about her hunt for Kan-E-Senna. No, he would have tried to stop her, deeming it too dangerous. Her beloved hero. Her personal voice of reason. Her spell sturtters to a halt, the aether rebelling against her. Gritting her teeth, she hisses.

"Listen to me you bitch, I did not rip your heart out of your chest and hold on to your self righteous aether for you to let my husband die!"

Perhaps due to the experience of having done such intense and unconventional healing before, the aether bends to her will, painful and fighting her back as always, but her will is stronger and the broken connections in Phiros' body seem to mend. It would not repair the damage he had gone through over the aether but would easily grant him a few more years as long as he did not run headfirst into danger.

As the aether is poured in her love, her own body begins to age again, from her thirty year old body, she finds herself in the right body, weathered by fifty years of life and then more, her hair turning completely white as she watches the back of her hands wrinkle, the skin dry and blemished.

"Ha. I'm as old as you are now... Maybe even older! You'd have to pour me the drinks!"

The long process ends, trembling hands no longer aglow, her lips find the Au'ra's forehead as translucent tears of joy run down her face.

"Almost there, love. All that's left is to wake you up."

Although she feels bolstered by her success, it would be foolish to ignore how depleted her aether reserves are, likewise for the land around her for yalms around. Pink eyes look down at the beloved visage of her husband, his odd purple and yellow eyes hidden by his eyelids.

Her lips find his once again in an upside down kiss as she is certain of her next course of action. Her strength is low, her nerves burning as she is now unable to draw on to the aether around her, her only source of magic to warm him up is her life force. Yet there is no doubt in her mind, no ifs and no consequences other than waking up Phiros.

If she must pass away... Not even the lifestream could keep them apart, she knows this. I'll find you in every life. Placing her bag under his head, she settles down over Phiros' larger body, her right hand tangled in his long white hair as her left twines their fingers together, her head resting under his chin as she would usually do so at home, ears over his heart, laying her entire body over his as her magic warms the air around them while a thin thread of aether connects her heart to Phiros', attempting to bring his heart back to a strong heartbeat.

"You might hate me for this, I know it. But it would not be more than what I felt when I found your letter, Phi. I was gonna ask you, y'know, because our anniversary is in less than a month, if you wanted to move to Shirogane with me. Be a cute old couple that lazes around at the hot bath, drinks sake every night as we looked down at the pond. I'd offend people every other day without realizing and you'd shrug and say I'm a foreigner."

Her breathing is now shallow, chest rising painfully as her life force is sapped into Phiros' body. Suddenly, the sound of his heartbeat reaches her hear, finally strong enough to be heard! It's working!

"I'm afraid you'll have to do that without me. I can already see you, walking down the streets, with your hair untied and flowing over your back, a formal but colorful yukata on your back. My gentle giant."

Her heart stutters as Phiros' seems to pick up pace, his body warming up as hers begins to shiver despite her aero spell warming up the air around them. Her eyes close as she whispers her final words to her awakening love.

"I am so happy that I got to love you, to be loved by you. I never thought I could receive as much love as you have given me for the past twenty five years. I won't lie, I would have liked a little more still." Hiccups cut off her words as her hand clenches on Phiros' shoulders, her nose buried in his chest to inhale his scent one last time.

"You carry my heart in you, Phi. I love you, my husband. Live well."

Her grip on his shoulders relax as his chest begins to rise, hands falling limp as she falls into a deep slumber, the sound of glass breaking as white crystal shards scatter over the red and white flowers nearly covering up a raspy inhale.

[iswearonmarcuskane]

Don’t Forget Where You Belong

Title: Don’t Forget Where You Belong Fandom: The 100 Pairing: Marcus & Vera Kane Tag/Warnings: Canon compliant, Season 4, Post 4x05 Words: 1,626 Read on: AO3

Summary:  When you're lost, I'll find the way, I'll be your light. You'll never feel like you're alone. I'll make this feel like home.

It had been a while since Marcus had been here last.

Between trying to take down Pike, defeat ALIE, and recently trying to find a way to survive a second wave of radiation on its way, Marcus couldn’t stick to his regularly scheduled visits. The neglect was visible.

The Eden Tree had lost many leaves; bare branches stood out like a sore thumb. The branches were brittle, and the slightest touch broke them off. The bark of the trunk was peeling off.

He stood in front of the Eden Tree as he watched another leaf fall off, slowly landing on the Earth. He watched it as it laid there. A slight wind blew through and picked the leaf up and carried it off into the forest. He followed its path and kept staring at the area it last occupied before disappearing.

The similarity of their situation in relation with the Eden Tree gave Marcus chills. It made the reality of their situation settle deeper. He looked back to the Eden Tree and the images from last night flashed in his mind.

Fire. Everywhere.

The Ark in flames, the Ark collapsing. Their solution in flames, their solution collapsing.

The Eden Tree was dying, pieces of it slowly dying off. Time was running out, each solution they had come up with to battle Praimfaya with failed. The Eden Tree was slowly dying; Skaikru was running out of solutions.

“If only you could have seen Earth before this,” Marcus spoke softly. He was alone- just him and the Eden Tree. He knew, however, he truly wasn’t alone. “Before all the war, death, and radiation. If anyone deserved to see it, it was you.”

He crouched down in front of the Eden Tree, tracing a skimpy branch with few leaves still on it. His finger passed over a leaf and it immediately fall off and to the ground. He watched it for a while, before drawing his hand back. “You would’ve loved it,” he added. “It would’ve been everything you taught us about.”

A small, sad smile graced his face. He lowered himself to the ground as he sat down by the Eden Tree. He looked out into the forest, imagining Earth without the constant wars, the constant death, and the hourglass running out over their heads.

Instead, he thought about his mother, on Earth, and the happiness it would’ve brought her. She would be the first person to offer the idea of making gardens from the newly found plants in the forest. She would find the perfect place to plant the Eden Tree. She would be happy.

A sudden surge of pain that radiated up his forearm and through his fingers brought him back to reality- the reality of war, death, and an hourglass that was almost out of sand. It wasn’t the picture perfect image his mother had painted for him as a kid. It was the complete opposite.

“But look what exists here,” he said, his one hand massaging the area around his wrist. “There’s constant fighting which leads to bloodshed and death. Leaders, civilians, children…they’re all becoming victims of war, and at what cost? Soon enough there won’t be an Earth for any victor to claim.”

He massaged a bit further up his forearm, fingers slightly tingling. The little sparks of pain flash the images before his eyes again: flames spreading across the Ark, eliminating their only viable solution to survival. “Once the timer runs out, no one will get to see Earth for what it truly is: home.”

Marcus is answered with a strong gust of wind that ruffles his hair and jacket. He pulled the jacket tighter to himself, thinking maybe it’ll shield him away from the inevitable future. He looked down to his wrists, “Each solution we come up with, to preserve our home, it disappears.”

His voice sounds defeated and Marcus can’t find it in himself to fight against it. He doesn’t feel the hope, he doesn’t feel optimistic. He looks down to the Eden Tree and he can feel his mother lecturing him, just like when he was a child.

She would recite how even though the end seems bleak, that there is light in anything dark. You just have to search for it, and if you believe enough, you’ll find it. She then would give him a smile (oh, how he missed her smile) and tell him everything would be okay.

He needed that; he needed her.

He couldn’t find the light in the dark, and it scared him. He was their leader, their chancellor, and he was supposed to reassure his people that everything would be fine. He was supposed to reassure them they’d find another solution. He was supposed to reassure them that they would survive, just like how they always had.

He couldn’t. He just couldn’t, and he didn’t know what to do.

And that’s how he ended up here.

He felt like he did when he had to decide whether to or not to float Abby. He felt like he did when had to make the decision to float 300 innocent people for the Culling. He felt like he did when had decided to shock lash Abby. He was conflicted and he always came back to the same person to reflect on: Vera Kane.

“We’re out of solutions,” Marcus spoke to no one and someone at the same time, “the only one left is the nightblood solution. The results so far haven’t been promising.”

He looked at his wrists, one person flashing in his mind. Their survival now rested in her hands. He had faith in Abby, he knew she would come through. He was just having a hard time convincing himself it would work as every solution so far kept dying in front of him.

He didn’t want Abby to fail. He didn’t want her to feel the guilt he was feeling if it did fail. He wanted to protect her from that, so he wanted her to succeed, but he couldn’t find it in himself to believe it would work. “The odds are against us,” he told her. “Every solution so far has failed. It’s the like the Earth is telling us that this isn’t our home, that we don’t belong here.”

Marcus knew his mother would disagree with his words, even with all the events that have occurred. She would say it was Earth’s way of telling him that they needed to fight for their home. That if they really wanted to survive, they would find a way. There has to be another way.

He looked over to the Eden Tree then. He reached out once more, this time tracing the thinning trunk. When his finger reached the ground, a little sprout of green caught his attention. It wasn’t very big, something he wouldn’t have spotted before unless he was paying close enough attention.

It wasn’t higher than an inch out of the ground. It stood out now, green against the brown soil. It was a sapling.

He was fascinated by it. He ran his finger over it, watching as it didn’t crumble beneath the weight. It made him smile slightly.

His eyes went to the Eden Tree and back to the sapling. He saw the similarities between their situation and the two plants but this time he smiled.

The Eden Tree was dying and the sapling was just beginning to grow. The ark solution had dead and now the nightblood solution was in the works.

He watched the sapling again, thinking of how in just a short amount of time that Praimfaya would come rushing in. It seemed as if the sapling could care less, it was going to continue to grow- Praimfaya or not. It seemed as if it was giving Praimfaya the middle finger, telling it, “I don’t care if you can kill me, this my home. I belong here. I will fight for every last day I have here.”

It sparked something in Marcus. He saw a flash of light in the dark.

He looked back to the Eden Tree and he smiled, genuinely. Even though Vera wasn’t here, her influence never left.

The end may seem bleak, but there is a light in everything dark. Marcus can see it now.

The sapling represented the light in the dark. Even though Praimfaya was coming and more than likely going to kill it, that didn’t stop the sapling from growing. It was going to continue to grow until the end, it wasn’t going to stop just because the end seemed bleak.

The light may not be the solution to surviving Praimfaya, but it may be the fight they put forth into trying to survive. As long as they exhaust every solution possible and if in the end they don’t succeed, then they will die knowing they tried to their best to survive.

They can fight to belong here, they can fight for their home till the very end.

He touched one of the leaves on the Eden Tree and it stayed attached. His smile this time was bittersweet. His mother always kept him grounded. In the past, he had made some mistakes but she always stood by him, never abandoning him.

She hadn’t abandoned him then, and she wouldn’t now, even though she wasn’t here with him anymore. She was still guiding him, and he knew she always would.

He would keep fighting for his home; the home he knew his mother believed Earth was. He will believe in Abby and her capability to make the solution work. And if it doesn’t, he will keeping looking for the next solution.

In the end, Marcus will prove they belonged here. He will have fought for their home.

“Thank you, Mom.”

[nebou]

analysis of Brotherhood: ep 4

a thing i’ve always found interesting about ep four of Brotherhood is how cold Noctis’ and Ignis’ relationship comes off as compared to how it’s portrayed later in game. in game there’s witty banter, inside jokes, loving, nagging, sarcasm, overall you get a very mother/son vibe. this is in stark contrast to the anime where it’s painfully servant/lord with none of the humor and lightheartedness that we’re used to. it’s easy to overlook this as just inconsistent writing and some ppl leave it at that but the Lore Whore in me just won’t go down w out a fight, hence this long tangenty rant about what the hell Ignis(and Noctis but mostly Ignis) is thinking in Brotherhood Episode 4: Bittersweet Memories

i think it’s first important to establish that the Ignis we all know and are most familiar with isn’t the same Ignis that is in the majority of episode four, and i don’t want to write this off as poor writing because, even if there are some differences, the anime still gives us an Ignis that is if not relatively close to the one in game, he’s the one to first react to Noct doing stupid shit

he worries over Noctis

and gives into Noct’s sillier behaviour

so i don’t think it’s an issue of poor writing so much as it is the writer’s intended younger!Ignis to come off as colder and more stoic than his older counterpart. we see it throughout the episode that younger!Ignis(screw it im just gonna call him Youngnis) acts far more cool, aloof, and detached towards Noctis, giving us the impression that he thinks of himself as just a servant and of Noctis as a lord and nothing more- except that doesn’t make sense. it was released that Ignis and Noctis knew eachother since they were six and three respectively, meaning Noctis knew Ignis since most likely before he could remember. on top of that, Ignis knew about Noctis’ and Luna’s journal, something that Noctis is at least somewhat private about, but didn’t seem to mind Ignis handling it and only got upset once Youngnis started nagging him about it. in in-game dialogue it’s implied that they both have a tons of memories together, all of this suggests that Noctis and Ignis would be incredibly close friends throughout their lives but for some reason, all we get from Youngnis is

Youngnis acts like he is just a servant and advisor to Noctis, and i would be tempted to believe that he had behaved this way his entire life(hell, the thought of small, dedicated little butler Ignis warms my heart) had it not been for this. this little bit of dialogue tells us that when Ignis was a kid, he wasn’t the cold calculative type, meaning Yougnis’ behaviour we see here was something that he picked up later, but why? and when?

an important thing to know about Ignis’ character is how he sees and judges himself. if you haven’t already, please check out this wonderfully worded post because it sums up Ignis’ biggest fear in detail far better than i ever could, but to sum it up: Ignis measures himself in his usefulness to Noctis, and so everything he does is for Noctis. it’s the reason why, even though Youngnis acts objectively about Noctis’ position as crown prince, he’s able to spend countless hours trying to perfect a recipe that Noctis offhandedly mentioned he liked and continue this for years. but that still doesn’t explain Youngnis’ behavior, for that, we need to go deeper.

this bit of dialogue confused me every time, mostly because we literally just saw Youngnis pick up all of Noctis’ trash that day, and also because it implies that Ignis won’t be there to pick up after Noctis. now, a lot of the conflict in this episode centers around Ignis trying to prepare Noctis for kinghood,he’s constantly telling Noctis that he needs to study, he needs to take responsibility, he needs to look after himself, all the while he’s not giving Noctis the opportunity to take his nagging seriously because he’s too busy coddling him. i mean think about it, he neatly sums up political reports for him so Noctis can go to public school, he cleans up his apartment so Noctis doesn’t have to move back to the palace, he carefully manages Noctis’ diet but still lets him refuse vegetables. Youngnis knows that Noctis has to step up as prince so he can be ready when he has to be king, but part of him can’t let go and is afraid to let Noctis embrace his fate. why?

because ignis knows what being king entails, and the thought of Noctis slowly withering away, duty or no, can’t be a pleasant thought for Ignis. at the end of the day, Ignis wants what’s best for Noctis, but he also knows what’s needed from him. he’s at war with himself because he knows he can’t just let Noct run away from his duties, but the last thing Ignis wants is to see Noctis die(i guess he never did because of the whole Blind thing, but anyway). Ignis can’t possibly choose, he’s reached an impasse, so he just does his duty, he tries his best to make Noct’s life easier, and he detaches himself from the other to minimize the pain of being unable to give Noct the normal life he wants, but that’s not without it’s costs.

Youngnis can provide everything Noctis needs-physically, he can feed him, make sure he lives in a clean environment, give him the tools to succeed, but by detaching himself from the situation, he loses the companionship he had with Noctis. it sucks. look at him.

that’s not the face of a happy advisor i’ll tell ya

but what’s equally important is that Youngnis isn’t the only one suffering. Noctis lost a friend, too, and Noctis doesn’t have many friends, and Ignis was his friend before anyone else, before Luna, before Prompto, before Gladio, literally Ignis was Noctis’ very first friend. and to have Ignis, either suddenly or gradually, close off from him, it must have hurt, and to top it off, Noctis still has to deal with the stress of watching his father slowly die, the tension from both those ordeals reaches its apex at the climax of the episode.

this is possibly the worst thing for Ignis to hear. Ignis is Noctis’ advisor, it’s his job to offer his perspective and counsel, and again, Ignis values himself as much as he’s useful to Noctis, and to hear that Noctis doesn’t want his advice leaves them both at their lowest points.

both are left clearly very agitated and compromised by the argument. both do their best to cope(both trying to act like nothing happened) until Gladio intervenes. Gladio does his best to acknowledge Noctis’ troubles about his father, but it’s still very clear that same night when Youngnis doesn’t show up that he’s torn up inside.

on the other end, after his outburst in the car, Ignis seems to be functioning normally, but still confides into Gladio impulsively. Ignis feels the weight of Noctis’ fate, and as someone who places so much value in Noct, he can’t not care about the outcome, but thankfully, Gladio gives him advice that Ignis couldn’t have realized in his closed-off state

Ignis was so blinded by his devotion to Noct and wanting him to lead the best life he could, he forgot Noct is capable of making that decision for himself. but that still leaves the issue of their relationship

Ignis still feels like he needs to be useful to Noctis. fortunately for him, Noctis could care less about all that, and shows Ignis that he doesn’t have to always be helpful to be around Noctis, since they are, no matter what, friends first and foremost.

this episode isn’t about Ignis learning to go soft on Noctis and understanding the the emotional weight of being prince, it’s about Ignis letting go and learning to trust Noctis to make his own life decisions. it’s about Ignis realizing that he can be for Noctis just to be there. and this is why i love the thought of the Tenebrae dessert so much because no matter how many times Ignis makes it, it’s not going to be perfect, he still has much to learn but can only succeed if he listens to Noctis and Noctis makes sure to be honest. it’s such a good metaphor for their relationship: it’ll never be perfect, but that doesn’t mean it won’t be good.

anyways this was just something i couldn’t stop thinking about and needed to put into words, please let me know if they’re any blatant mistakes