#technically i could write it and have seen it written but like. its the object show format im rly trying to get at being important here | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

zelphin124 · 11 months

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DISCLAIMER: I do not know much about Therapist!Sans, but I was bored so I thought I'd write a lil script with him giving therapy to Ink!Sans (which I think would be very chaotic)

Also, I've never been to therapy before so I don't know how this technically works 😅

Therapist!Sans belongs to @tehrogueva

Ink!Sans belongs to @comyet

Enjoy!

The room was still. There was no breeze, no sound, and no darkness. Every part of the room was lit with a dim light overhead, erasing the shadows from all of the objects. There was only a wooden chair to the left of the room which was accompanied with a small desk by its side. In front of this chair was a maroon sofa. A rectangular carpet with a pine tree design laid between the furniture.

There wasn't much to observe. In fact, the tan walls of the room were quite barren. Occasionally, there were small papers with green and brown designs hung across the room. There was a small billboard above the desk with a few drawings on them. The door was darker than all the browns in the area. It reflected off the yellow-tinted light. The lights themselves were small lightbulbs hung by a single chain on the ceiling. The air would've been heavy and filled with stench if it wasn't for the air conditioner in the corner.

The dark brown door opened as Ink stepped inside. His eyes lit with curiosity as he observed the room. He wasn't sure why he needed therapy. Heck, he didn't even remember how he got there. Why was he here again?

He checked the notes on his scarf. He tried to make out what he wrote. Ah, there it was. He had gone to therapy because _____ told him to go. He couldn't make out the smudged word of who told him to come here. However, Ink trusted whoever it was; he wouldn't have written it down if the person wasn't someone he trusted.

Or did Error tell him to go to therapy as an insult and he wanted to remember it?

Ink patted himself down when he forgot what he was thinking about. Where was his sketchbook? Did he leave it in the doodle sphere again? He didn't like being bored and had no intention to stay bored. He would've started to draw on the billboard, but he couldn't find the right markers to do so.

The room reminded the guardian of the Anti-Void. He didn't care for big open spaces. He wanted to fill such empty expanses with light, color, and beauty. At least, that's what he wanted to do if he drank his vials.

To his relief, it wasn't completely barren. However, the walls were lacking any decoration. Maybe it was to keep people from being distracted, or it was a new office and it hadn't been decorated yet.

No matter! Ink loved making decorations. He could assist with drawing the pictures and hanging them up! This place would look more vibrant in no time. All he needed was his brush...

His brush that he left outside the office.

Why did he leave it out there again? Ink checked his scarf again. Something about it being too big and whacking things... As well as covering the area in paint...

He eyes glanced back down to the notes he previously read. Someone had told him to go to therapy after he burned down an AU.

Wait... I did WHAT?!

"Good afternoon," an unfamiliar voice said softly behind him. "I apologize for being late. Please, take a seat."

Ink spun around to find a skeleton he had never seen before. He was a variation of Sans like himself. He had large eyes and a genuine smile. Green glasses rested on his non-existent nose; Ink noticed they were taped to the side of his head. Ink could tell he was tired, but not the sleepy kind of tired. It was more the-past-week-has-felt-like-one-giant-day tired.

Ink loved the soft colors that bounced off the skeleton's attire. He wore an off-white wool cardigan and dark brown gloves. His green turtleneck shirt complimented his glasses. The blue shorts on his legs possessed green stripes and visually led onlookers down to his pink slippers. His small hands held a clipboard and a pen made from a small bone. Although Ink saw that he was more expressive than Classic, he could tell the skeleton's shoulders were tense despite his fatigue.

"Hello!" Ink greeted, waving his hand before extending it. "I'm Ink! It's nice to meet you, what's your name?"

"You can call me Doc, Ink," Doc shook Ink's hand before signaling for him to sit down. "Tell me a bit about yourself. I heard that you love art."

"Who told you that? Because loving art is a total understatement," Ink adjusted his clothes as he sat down on the sofa. "I adore it! It's one of the best things in the world! In fact, I wouldn't be here without art! Creativity is a beautiful thing that should inspire others and be shared!"

"Indeed it should," Doc nodded as he wrote something down on his clipboard. "What else do you like to do?"

"Well, I love to inspire others. When I'm not battling Error or chilling with Dream and Swap, I adore going to different AUs and observing people's creations! Sometimes I talk with the creators of the AUs themselves to help them out. Like one time I inspired my friend named XGaster..." Ink trailed off, glancing at the billboard with the small green and brown drawing. "What were we talking about again?"

Doc scribbled more things on his paper before giving a warm smile. "I'm asking some ice-breaker questions before we get started on your therapy," he answered. "I'm here to help you with your problems."

"What problems?" Colorful question marks glimmered in Ink's eyes. Why was it so hard to remember simple things today? He knew his memory was bad, but surely it wasn't always this bad. Is it getting worse? Ink asked himself in his head.

The therapist stared at Ink for a long time. To Ink's surprise, he didn't find the silence uncomfortable. He was perfectly content with the skeleton staring at him and not saying anything at all. Had it been anyone else, Ink would've started to become nervous.

"I have an idea," Doc set his clipboard down. "Why don't we draw something to hang up on my walls? I would love to display some of your art here. Plus, while we are drawing, you can tell me what's been happening in your life recently."

"Oh that would be great!" Joy surged through Ink's mind. "I was going to comment about the emptiness of the room. I wondered why it was so barren."

"This office is new, so I haven't had much time to hang things up yet," Doc answered before he informed Ink he would return with art supplies.

When the therapist returned, Ink wasted no time, grabbing the acrylic paints as quickly as he could. He had so many ideas on what he wanted to draw. He eventually decided he was going to draw a pine forest to match the aesthetic of the room. Doc sat his clipboard by his side as he watched Ink's brush fly across the paper.

Doc didn't even have to ask any questions. Ink started to ramble about his day... At least what he could remember of it. He talked about having tea with Dream and Swap before mentioning his battle with Error. He went on and on about how beautiful OuterTale was before he lost his train of thought.

Doc listened intently, drawing a cliffed landscape and taking notes. "You mentioned Dream and Swap, are these your friends?"

"Oh yeah. We are the Star Sanses. We fight for the AUs and their happiness. We work together a lot," Ink stroked the brown paint on the trunks of his trees. "Although we've been separating lately."

"How does that make you feel?"

Ink glanced away from his art up at the therapist. What an odd question; no one had asked him that before. He started to twitch with his fingers before replying. "I don't know how to answer that question, Doc. I don't really feel anything about it." He glanced down at his vials. "I don't have emotions. I'm given emotions through these vials, but they're fake. Nothing that I feel is actually real. I don't have a soul to feel things."

"I see," Doc picked up his pen and wrote it down on his paper.

"Me and Dream have different motives and intentions for the AUs sometimes. Swap wanted to go home and assist his brother more. I spend most of my time bugging Error about his love for chocolate and the truce he forced me to accept. Although we both kinda broke that recently."

"Tell me more about Error."

Ink told the Doc all that he could recall about the glitched skeleton. He described how they met, how they became enemies, and how the truce was agreed upon. He backtracked to find moments with Error and memorable fights between them. Ink tried to explain to Doc how Error was the only skeleton who could understand him, and yet they were complete opposites, driving them apart.

About an hour had passed. The therapist listened to the guardian closely, however, he stopped Ink when black tears started to run down his face. Ink had gotten emotional when he recalled how Error destroyed most if not all the AUs.

"I... I didn't feel anything at the time," Ink wiped his face. He glanced in confusion at his fingers. Am I crying? "I didn't drink my vials so I felt nothing when Error destroyed the multiverse. But now... It hurts to even think about."

The Doc sat his drawing aside and picked up his clipboard. "Why do you think that is?"

Ink's tears fell onto his drawing. They covered the trees in various patches. He wondered how he could incorporate them into his forest drawing. "I guess... Because I love the AUs and their creativity. I wouldn't want anyone's inspiration to be crushed. I wouldn't want to harm an AU..." He glanced at his scarf. "It says on my scarf I came here because I burned down an AU though..."

"What do you think about that?"

"It doesn't help my reputation..." Ink wiped his face again. "I'm portrayed as a villain now. A lot of people don't like me after certain actions-" He wiped his face again. He didn't like crying. He didn't even know why he was crying, let alone in front of a Sans he didn't know. He didn't feel sad on the inside, but it was as if something inside him had shattered. Did he regret his actions? Was he mourning for the loss of the AUs? Was all the talk about him being a murderous psychopath with no emotions getting to him? He couldn't say. His emotions were confusing as they were. If he couldn't figure himself out, how could Doc Sans figure him out?

"This is good for you to acknowledge all of this," Doc Sans broke his thoughts. His voice was soothing and slow. "There's a lot to unpack here. I would love to meet with you on a regular basis so we can work through all this. Can you meet the same time next week?"

The tears had stopped flowing from the guardians eyes. "Time is a little hard for me to grasp since I love outside of it."

"Oh, yes of course," the therapist replied. "In that case, I'll talk with the office to find a way to signal you to come back when it's time. But might I reassure you in one thing today?"

Ink shrugged. "Go for it."

"You don't just drink one of your vials, right? You drink all of them at once."

Ink glanced down at his paint vials. They glowed with intensity according to their designated color. All of them were nearly empty. "Yeah, I drink all of them."

"So that means you feel all the emotions and they can alternate your mood depending on the situation. I wouldn't call your emotions fake. You're not forcing yourself to drink one vial to feel that way. You drink all of them at once, making your emotions as real as anyone else's; constantly present."

"Really?" Ink exclaimed before he vomited a bunch of ink from his mouth. He stared blankly at the Doc before looking back at his drawing. Whew, the ink missed his paper entirely.

"I'll uh... call someone to come clean that up," the smile on the therapist's face faded. He glanced over at Ink's drawing. "You're very talented, Ink. Can I hang that on my wall?"

Ink nodded. Doc knelt down and picked up the drawing. The smile returned to his face. "Look at these black streaks across the trees that you made with your tears."

Ink was quite proud of how we wove his tears into his art. They created shadows across the forest and shade between the leaves. There were millions of shades of greens and browns in the pine forest that he drew. The painting would look lovely under the dim lights of the office.

"That's what we are going to do with everything you've bottled up," Doc explained. "We are going to take that pain and weave it into the beautiful story of your life. No story is complete without suffering. Here's your first lesson, Ink."

For the first time in his life, Ink had nothing to say. He wanted to listen to Doc talk. His fingers twitched as he waited for the therapist to continue.

"Suffering is necessary in our lives. Because without it, the happiest moments of our lives wouldn't be so sweet as they are," he explained. "Our lives will never be perfect. Just like paintings are never perfect. But our lives, like these paintings, aren't supposed to show us perfection. They reflect who we are, and the progress we made."

What an interesting take. It was as if Doc was talking like they had run out of time.

Wait... they had run out of time.

Was the session already over? Ink didn't feel like he spent an entire hour talking. Was that what therapy was? Just talking until stuff comes up?

Ink wasn't sure how to feel about the whole therapy thing. He enjoyed drawing and talking to the new Sans, but it was odd for him to feel things so raw when he recalled memories. He never felt such strong emotions about any memories before, why had it struck him now? What was all of that hidden pain Doc was talking about? Did he really have bottled up pain like all the rest of the Sanses?

He lost his trail of thought, only remembering what the therapist had said Ink grabbed a pen and started to write down what the therapist said on his scarf. "I bet all of that was important, I just don't understand it right now."

Doc chuckled softly. "You'll understand more as we work through your life together. I'll be in touch with you shortly, thank you for coming."

Ink finished writing down what the therapist had said. "Thanks for having me, Doc! I'll see you next time!"

The guardians gaze went from Doc's warm smile to the painting Ink drew within the hour. It wasn't perfect, no, but it reminded Ink about what the therapist had said before he exited the room.

It's not about about perfection... But about the progress I make.

#therapist!sans #doc sans #docs #DocSans #therapist sans #ink!sans #ink sans #therapy #i tried #fandom #this is not canon #ITS ELEVEN FRICKIN O'CLOCK AT NIGHT #Dont expect good writing from me at this hour :3

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wizardnuke · 4 months

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im talking about the essay grade again and i got off topic and started talking about the lit analysis potential inthe vast majority of fanfictionbjust. Ignore

i feel like it's such a humblebrag for me to be like "i don't understand how i continually get really good grades in english" because i understand objectively that 1) i am very good at analysis and/or. finding quotes to support whatever the fuck thesis i decided would be easy to support (see: "good at analysis") (i think i honestly just randomly hit the jackpot on "good thesis" but on god i just looked at macbeth and gawain respectively and was like Ah. Women's Wrongs. Easy Peasy) and 2) i know from looking at other people's essays that i am just kind of. marginally-to-a-lot better at grammar and phrasing/understand the very specific madlibs-style layout i have to use and what vocabulary that i need to be putting out. it's madlibs. there's a really technical and specific layout that needs to be followed and i just kind of follow it. it's not hard. it is boring. if i could write academic papers on the shit i'm actually interested in they'd be worthless because it's niche and/or wild tumblr user conjecture. anyone who seriously writes on. hold on i need to generate a thesis. "the cyclic nature of abuse and its direct correlation to homoeroticism in cn's supernatural" could u fucking imagine. that's hilarious. that's some hackjob shit no matter how well i could keep a straight face on the matter because all that people care about is Old Shit. i have no real vested interest in actual literary works beyond "they're important and better than people think". i have extremely strong feelings on a lot of modern works, generally movies and shows and niche dnd webshows, i cannot make a career in that shit, my english prof thinks fanfic is bullshit and i see where he's coming from! i don't think it's bullshit. but. the academic perspective on fanfiction is like "they're not making original work" because the setting/adjacent themes and characters r lifted from another work and there's no real originality in it except that the best fics i've read are like.. an alternate form of literary analysis that is so far from actual essay writing that it's unrecognizable. but people can see the themes and the motifs and rehash them in a way that is absolutely a kind of analysis of the original work, but with flourishes and new ideas and batshit choices that the og media either couldn't make/didn't feel like making/tentacle sex wasn't really thematically fitting but an author decided "hey what if i put themes into this consentacles fic" and like, i want to argue that that's legit. sometimes. but i am not going to do that bc i sound objectively insane and also sometimes it is just not that deep and that will be brought up as an argument and i just don't care enough to explain that it's still an art form even if it's not that deep. is "fun and funky fresh" not a common motivator. if "new interpretations" of works like shakespeare and shit where they plunk the characters into a modern setting and fuck with the phrasing is seen as a viable art form/type of analysis then fanfic is an art form/analysis adjacent to that. not all of it though. some of it is something else that is worse. not that i think that is in itself bad. fanfic is a hobby. can't make a career out of that. but people have made careers out of that by changing the names and setting and publishing books. and that's viable apparently. i just personally am insane and enjoy writing very serious and/or emotionally driven meta on dnd shows. i like themes and motifs and i think that while a quickly written meta post on the tragedy inherent in redemption arcs that hit 50k is absolutely not as academically sound as a cited paper on a similar subject, there's Something To It and there's got to be some kind of potential in it. i like stories. idk if i could make a living out of talking about stories especially from the insane angle that i tend to hit stories at. the possibility of making it a genuine career is driven down below ground after i take into consideration my insanity about modern stories vs my neutrality on older ones. what am i talking abt. bf is yelling for me bye

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absolxguardian · 2 years

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Andor and the freedom of metaphor

Disclaimer: I have not watched any of the Bourne films, but I have listened to all of the Kill James Bond episodes on the series.

Tony Gilroy, as you might have seen in some of the trailers, is the showrunner of Andor. He also co-wrote Rogue One, the first three Bourne movies, and wrote/directed the Bourne Legacy. The Bourne films exist in a constant conflict between depicting the CIA (accurately) as evil, the antagonists who operate an illegal CIA death squad that birthed Jason Bourne and are now hunting him while also staying within the pro-American imperialism party line of mainstream Hollywood. The Bourne Legacy is the film where this comes to ahead, where it is revealed that inside the CIA there is a second evil CIA that actually did all the Treadstone stuff.

Given what we’ve gotten in Andor, I believe that Tony Gilroy himself is not conflicted in this way. He has a clear conception and hatred of imperialism in all its forms, as shown in the well crafted analogies and real world similarities in the show that many other people have written about. It is implicit or explicit executive interference that has muddled the themes of the Bourne films he has been involved in. Despite Andor being as mainstream as the Bourne films in its production, Tony Gilroy has been able to write something a lot less compromised because on its surface it isn’t about the evils of the American (or British, or whoever) state.

This is one of the powers of speculative settings like Star Wars. Not only does working in metaphor and similarities to the real world allow you to present unique angle and address a different variety of topics than you could with a single story when only using the real world (or think about how many different people could relate to the Dhani when they aren’t just one real world group), it also lets your work have a wider reach. Somehow Disney didn’t object to all the themes present in Andor, but they sure would if it was about America and a real mega-corporation. While the ISB hasn’t really done any intelligence work on screen yet, they are the space!CIA, and unlike in the Bourne films, there is no equivocation required. You’ll also avoid the controversy that would otherwise emerge if the anti-imperialist themes in your work were explicitly anti-American. This could perhaps help your message reach some more people, people who when you aren’t making them start on the defensive by criticising “their team”.

If you want to make even a subtextually anti-war film using real world militaries, that isn’t going to happen in Hollywood anymore. The studio is going to want to get the free sets and props and rather than hire an consultant so that you can actually depict everything accurately, they’re going to bring on the DOJ who while they will help keep things accurate in the technical sense, the involvement of the government will turn your film into propaganda. But there’s no easy financial carrot when the military you’re depicting are a bunch of stormtroopers instead.

And this isn’t the first time this has happened with Star Wars. George Lucas could have never made a film where the heroes team up with the Viet Cong and then drive America out of their country. Except, he did. It’s called Return of the Jedi and the Viet Cong are also cute little teddy bears. And that’s only one example. Andor is just contiuning the long tradition of using an sci-fi fantasy setting to depict anti-imperialist themes while still being acceptable to executives and embraced by a wider audience, even if many of them don’t pick up on the subtext.

#star wars #sw #sw andor #tony gilroy #kill james bond #the bourne trilogy #the bourne legacy

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annikuh · 2 years

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talkin abt my minor crisis in the Jax & Syvis fic I’m writing & general drabble abt it😵‍💫

At a funny part in my Jax fic where I’ve written one chapter (ahem, 37 pages) already that’s supposed to take place later the night the fic takes place & its almost purely smut, but I’d explode before sending that to the two people who have been reading my original fic lol. so now I gotta figure out how to take the few key story parts from that & make up an AU basically that will be palatable. le unepic sigh

like it’ll work out but I literally cannot imagine it progressing in any other way other than Jax being like “holy fuck this is the first person who has touched my bare skin with any kindness for a prolonged time in decades, AND treated me with tenderness and pure genuine care. please hold me more or I’m going to die”.

I was thinking how likely it is that Syvis would even want to hold Jax in an intimate way. at the beginning, Syvis was very objective in taking care of Jax—who she also almost put an arrow through—bc they were such a wet-eyed pathetic lunatic with a concussion. Like “ok you’re gonna keep walking with me and I’m gonna make sure you don’t die tonight, then you can go on your way”. But now she has a closer bond to them. Like yes she’s still a caretaker at the moment, but she also had a few touching moments & has clearly made a huge impact on Jax that makes them so endearing. She’s not in love by any means but that “I’ll make sure you’re alright until you leave later tonight” turned into “I’ll make sure you’re safe until whenever you leave”. I mean cmon who u kiddin huh? they’re soulmates (in a metaphorical sense—hard to say that when one doesn’t technically have a soul).

Jax knows it for sure, but assumes that Syvis is gonna end up leaving at some point soon. If Syvis hadn’t offered, I still think they’d try to stay in the area as long as possible, just so they could be close by and maybe foster a friendship. There’s no way on earth they’ll EVER find someone else like her. Syvis deffo thinks Jax is interesting on a level other than them being the first nepherit she’s seen. They’re a special being, take that as she will, but she doesn’t know that they’re going to be as close as they eventually were (😫).

I love them so much I’m gonna throw up. I’ll figure out how to omit the full-on sex they have & it’ll be sweet I promise. & if ur maybe interested in reading it…lmk. it’s not professionally written but it’s gotten reviews such as “I liked it!” and “very cute” and “I have some thoughts on the prologue” lol

#Jax #annikuh’s speakin

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frostedfaves · 3 years

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Dark Paradise

Masterlist

Pairing: dark!WandaNat x fem!reader

Summary: You meet the infamous Avengers on spring break with your best friend Peter, and two of them seem to adore you more than expected. Requested here by my lovely 🐞anon.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY!!! dark themes, manipulation, mind control, blackmailing, age gap (reader is 21), dubcon (saying this just to be safe because Wanda uses her powers for evil a lot here), smut: oral, fingering, penetration/sex toy use, voyeurism (kinda), edging, overstimulation (if I forgot something please let me know!)

A/N: hi this is 6k words, which is the longest single fic I’ve ever written/posted here haha. also the end is not technically the end, if you know what I mean. anyway this took forever to write so enjoy this super far from canon fic and please tell me what you thought!! (also if you’re on my taglist and you weren’t tagged it’s because your age wasn’t in your bio)

“Here, let me take that for you,” Peter offers when he notices you headed toward the car, and you hand your suitcase to him with a smile.

“Thanks, P.”

You close the car door behind you after getting in on the passenger side, instantly reaching for his phone resting on the dashboard once you were buckled in. The two of you had an unspoken rule that you controlled the music whenever you traveled together, so his library was filled with various playlists you’d created simply because you didn’t trust him not to listen to the same five songs for the rest of his life.

“This is different,” Peter comments as he gets in on the driver’s side and catches the opening notes to an upbeat song. “I thought you were going to go with something calmer to help you sleep, like you usually do.”

“Well, I’m not usually going to meet the Avengers, so I’m too nervous to sleep.” You turn to pout at him as he drives off. “Is it too late to cancel?”

“Don’t even think about it. If I show up without you, everyone will think you’re imaginary.”

“Do they think you can’t make any friends outside of Ned?” you question as you open a bottle of water. “Because they’re not wrong.”

“I can make friends!” Peter whines and a quiet snorting sound escapes you.

“You can’t use me as an example.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re not actually friends.”

He picks up on your teasing nature and rolls his eyes, causing you to laugh as you lean back and settle into your seat more. You had well over three hours to stress about spending a week with the world’s most popular superheroes, and you’d rather be comfortable while you do so.

“Wake up, we’re here!”

Your eyes fly open at the sound of Peter’s voice, and any of the nerves that left long enough to let you sleep made a U-turn and hit you again, full force. Sitting up straight in the seat, you practice breathing properly while stretching and taking a look around as he pulls into the garage.

“Are you okay?” Peter asks once he parks, placing a hand over yours as he meets your gaze and you smile.

“I’ll be fine, P. I’m not gonna miss out on hanging out with you just because your super family is super intimidating.”

“Good. Besides, it won’t even be that bad! I’m willing to bet $1 million that they’ll love you.”

“I appreciate your optimism,” you tell him as the two of you get out of the car. “But you’re going to regret that bet when I use your money to retire early in some faraway rural town.”

Peter carried both suitcases as you made your way to an elevator, and you jumped when you suddenly heard a male voice.

“Welcome, Mr. Parker and Ms. L/N.”

“What is that?” you questioned as you faced Peter with wide eyes and he chuckled.

“You’re hearing Jarvis, Mr. Stark’s AI. Hey Jarvis, can you take us to the common room, please?”

“Right away, Mr. Parker.”

“This is so cool,” you comment as you look around the suddenly moving elevator. “How does it know my name?”

“Knowing everything is kind of its job, I guess.”

“Underoos!” a voice calls as soon as the doors open, quickly revealing itself to belong to Tony Stark as his gaze lands on you next. “So she is real.”

“I told you!” Peter defends as you step off the elevator together. “Mr. Stark, this is Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, kid,” Tony greets you with a shake of your hand. “I’m glad he found you. I was starting to worry that he’d build a robot to spend the rest of his life with.”

“I’m just his best friend, so it’s still possible.”

“Is this your friend, Peter?” Steve cuts off Peter’s response as he enters the room, moving to shake your hand next. “I’m Steve. Nice to meet you.”

“Okay, I’m going to show her to our rooms and then we’ll be back for dinner,” Peter tells everyone once you’d been introduced to Pepper, Bruce and Clint as well, and you’re about to head for the elevator again when someone interrupts.

“How about we take her down to her room instead?”

Your eyes widen as you watch none other than Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff enter the room hand in hand. Natasha’s hair seemed much longer than the last time she’d been in the public eye, but her all-knowing smirk was just the same and her green eyes were even more piercing in person. You noticed a bit of red glowing in Wanda’s eyes, which faded as she probably realized you’d seen, and you couldn’t help but wonder if that meant she hated you already.

“I know what you’re up to, Red.” Tony seemed accusatory as he pointed a finger at the pair. “You can’t bribe her into helping you cheat tonight.”

“Maybe I planned on giving her tips for surviving this testosterone filled tower.”

Natasha steps forward and grabs your hand with her free one, and with a flick of her wrist, Wanda has your suitcase floating in front of you as they lead you into the elevator.

“Sorry to whisk you away like that,” Wanda apologizes as the doors close with her head tilted to see you past Natasha. “We’re just excited to meet a new woman here.”

“No, it’s okay!” you insist breathlessly, your nerves slowly returning as Natasha lightly squeezes your hand. “I’m actually really excited to meet the two of you.”

“You know who we are?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that I know you personally, but I know that you’re one of the original team members.” You make eye contact briefly with Natasha before turning to Wanda. “And because the news stations somehow get ahold of everything, I know you joined after you helped everyone stop Ultron before he could create that indestructible body and destroy the world.”

“Yes, that’s true. Although I wish I could’ve saved my brother, too.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you lost him...or that you even had a brother.”

“It’s okay,” Wanda assures you with a smile as she lets go of Natasha, shifting to the other side of the elevator to grab your free hand. “I asked Fury to keep Pietro a secret because I didn’t want to see or hear any negative opinions from people that never even met him.”

“And we have plenty of time to get to know each other,” Natasha chimes in as the doors open to reveal a new setting. “This is our floor. We set up a spare bedroom here so we can spend time together away from the boys...when you’re not with Peter, of course.”

“Yeah, that’d be great!”

They lead you past their living room and kitchen, and you shamelessly admire the simple decor with little personal touches spread about. Turning into a hallway, Natasha walks ahead of you and Wanda to open a door to a bedroom.

“What do you think?” she asks with a smile that widens upon seeing your expression. “I’m guessing it’s good, then.”

“It’s perfect!” you cry out as you walk past to enter the room, immediately noticing the eggshell colored walls trimmed with your favorite color along the borders. “Wow, this is four times the size of a normal bedroom. Wait a minute.”

“Do you like it?” Wanda asks when she sees you pick up the glass figurine on the nightstand. “Peter mentioned your love of this animal and I have a whole collection of them from different places.”

“Like it? I love it! I have the same one in my dorm room!”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can get you a different one.” She steps forward as she brings your suitcase to the floor beside the bed and you hug the small object close to your chest.

“Like I said, it’s perfect,” you assure her with a grin, which brings one to her own face.

“Well, I’m glad you’re happy with the set up. When you’re ready to head up to dinner, we’ll be waiting by the elevator. Also, if you ever need anything, our room is right across the hall.”

Natasha points to the closed door a few feet away, and you acknowledge her statement with a nod before they leave the room, closing your door nearly all the way behind them. You flop down on the bed with a dreamy sigh as you gaze up at the ceiling with a night sky painted on it.

“I don’t think I’ll ever want to leave this place.”

On the elevator ride up to join everyone for dinner, Natasha and Wanda take turns asking you questions about your classes and any friends you’d made, what you liked to do when you weren’t studying. You had to admit that the level of interest they had with you was shocking but flattering, especially when they insisted you sit between them at the table to continue your conversation.

“You don’t seem to be nervous anymore,” Peter acknowledges as you sit down, and Wanda faces you immediately.

“Were you nervous about meeting us?”

“Well, yeah,” you answer timidly, avoiding catching anyone’s curious glances by directing a glare toward Peter. “You might be normal people in here, but to the rest of the world, you’re portrayed as powerful and untouchable beings.”

“Maybe when they’re not talking about how much damage we’ve caused,” Bruce mumbles under his breath as the elevator doors opened again.

“I’m here, I’m here!” a voice calls as footsteps hurry toward the dining area, and Sam Wilson is revealed as he rounds the corner. “Sorry, I’m late. I was--”

“On a date, we know. You only told us that 500 times.”

“Don’t be jealous, old man. You’re married.” Sam grins at Clint as he sits next to him before his attention turns to you. “Do we have a newbie?”

“No, Mr. Wilson. This is my best friend, Y/N.”

“Call me Sam, kid.” He smiles at you as he goes for his silverware, and you’re just about to acknowledge him when his expression suddenly turns serious. “I’m sorry. You’re not a kid. You’re an independent and capable adult, and I should address you as such.”

“What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know.” Sam clears his throat and shakes his head as if he was clearing his mind. “I just suddenly felt the need to correct myself…You have any powers we should know about, Y/N?”

“No!” you quickly respond with widened eyes. “I wasn’t going to say anything, actually. I’m pretty used to older people calling me kid by now.”

From your left side, Natasha asks Clint to recall an embarrassing tale for you and the table livens up again, but you can’t seem to move past the unsettling way Sam shifted gears from calm and casual to uptight and disciplined. The image stayed with you through the rest of dinner even after he seemed to fully recover, until dishes were cleared away and replaced with games, and you suddenly had a lot more to focus on.

“I just don’t think it’s fair that he gets to be on your team again when I haven’t had him once.”

“Is anything fair with the guy who could use his personalized AI to cheat for him?”

“Could I do that? Yes. But have I done that? Maybe.”

“Wanna grab some fresh air with us?” Natasha suddenly asks you, causing you to frown.

“Aren’t we about to play another game?”

“It’ll take them another half hour before they finally decide something,” Wanda assures you as her fingers thread through yours gently. “We have plenty of time, and they won’t even notice we’re gone.”

They lead you by the hand to the elevator once more, going up a few floors before leading you out onto a balcony. Because you were so much higher than most of the surrounding buildings, there was an incredible view of the sun that was probably minutes away from disappearing to the other side of the world. The air is chillier than when you’d arrived, but you had to admit that standing in the cool breeze is worth a few goosebumps on your skin. Your hands are released as you reach a bench near the ledge, and you climb over it to sit as the other two women settle on either side of you.

“Why did Peter decide to share his secret with you?”

“Technically he didn’t,” you recall with a laugh. “He’d gone out to deal with something that activated his spider sense or whatever and I came to his dorm room to sleep after an exam because I was too tired to walk all the way to my place. Anyway, I walk in at the same time he’s coming back in through the window, and I swear we both sat there for a full two minutes before either of us could think of anything to say.”

“It’s still very nice of you to keep such a big secret for him,” Natasha praises, and your laughter quiets down as you take in her words.

“I guess I just know what it feels like to not want your life to change drastically because of one thing.” Your gaze shifts between the women for a moment. “That reminds me, I wanted to ask--”

“Wait, look at this!” Wanda quickly cuts you off with an enthusiastic grin. “You’re about to witness one of my favorite things about living here.”

She directs you to lean over and look at the streets as the sun finally disappears over the horizon, and you can’t help the small gasp that escapes you. Street lights begin turning on at what seems to be the center of the city and quickly spreading, increasing the radius of well-lit neighborhoods by the second. It was a mesmerizing sight that--until every lamp was on--nearly made you forget the question you were building toward.

“That was so cool!” you express honestly before clearing your throat awkwardly. “So I wanted to ask if the two of you were dating...or in a relationship or whatever. I mean, I don’t want to assume anything of course, just wondering because you share a room and floor, and you seem to be really into holding hands.”

“Well, I’d never really been into holding hands or a lot of other forms of affection before I met Wanda, but she seemed to flip some switch inside of me.” Natasha admitted with a bashful chuckle as she glanced at Wanda before turning to study you. “And your hands are so perfect to hold.”

“To answer your question, we are together.” Wanda rests a hand on your thigh and casts a sweet smile in your direction when you face her again. “Natasha was the first to give me a chance after everything with Ultron, and initially I thought I was just feeling grateful to receive some type of positive attention from someone other than Pietro. It wasn’t until Tash called me out on staring at her lips that I realized I wanted more than friendship.”

“The only reason I did was to confirm she was feeling the same things I’d finally come to terms with myself.” Natasha chuckles as Wanda sends over a bit of red mist to squeeze her own thigh. “What about you, love?”

“What about me?”

“Do you think you’re feeling more than friendship for Peter?”

“Oh no,” you quickly denied with a chuckle. “He’s the perfect example of a great boyfriend, but not my boyfriend. Plus I’d rather not have the same experience as MJ did.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, the ‘close friends to a relationship that ends with each person pretending the other doesn’t exist’ experience. I’d rather not.”

“Yeah, that does sound messy,” Natasha sighs as she subtly rests her hand on your other thigh. “So you’re not looking for a great boyfriend. What are you looking for then?”

“Nothing really, at least until I finish school, but having a girlfriend would be nice. I’d like to be with someone that respects me and can take care of themselves when I’m not around, because I tried the ‘caring for someone’ thing and it sucks when they don’t put in the same effort that you do.”

“Maybe you should try someone older, more mature,” Natasha suggests as she shifts to squeeze your knee lightly, and you start to feel a bit nervous about where she’s going with this. “Maybe two people that already have their shit together and would go to the ends of the earth to please you.”

“Okay, um…” You push both of their hands away with a bit of difficulty. “You both seem great and you’re incredibly attractive, but I’m not really interested.”

“Don’t worry about it, detka.” Natasha pushes your shoulder down as you try to get up, and Wanda cups your cheek with her hand.

“You may not be interested now…” She stands with Natasha and leans in to kiss your forehead, letting her lips linger on your skin as she continues. “But you will be.”

She pulls away and winks before lacing her fingers through Natasha’s as they leave the balcony, and you gasp in air as the tension they’d built seems to exit behind them. You finally decide to head back once you’ve taken a few minutes to catch your breath and calm your shaking limbs, but you wonder how long the calm will truly last.

You found yourself waking up suddenly and practically flying into a sitting position as if someone had pulled you up, but luckily the room is empty. You sit for a moment to catch your breath and survey your surroundings to assure you’re truly alone, and you notice your door is cracked right before you hear an unidentifiable sound.

“Fuck.”

Despite every fiber of your being screaming at you as one would do to a character in a horror film, you decide to climb out of bed to investigate what you were hearing, justifying your actions with the excuse of seeing if your floor-mates were in danger, as if you could save them. A few seconds after opening your door fully and peeking out made you realize that they were more than okay.

“Fuck! Right there, please don’t stop.”

“Such a dirty mouth, malyshka.”

You’re quick to return the door to its cracked position, leaning against the nearby wall with wide eyes as you attempt to process the image across the hall. The bedroom door sits wide open, giving you the chance to examine every inch of bare skin of the two women spread across the bed, Wanda resting on her arched back with her hands in Natasha’s red hair buried between her legs. Her moans seem to raise in volume, pitch and frequency as she’s brought closer and closer to the edge, and you ignore the warm feeling in your lower abdomen as you hurry back to bed and throw a pillow over your exposed ear.

“Good morning.”

Your free hand quickly shoots upward to catch your water glass as it slipped through your fingers in your moment of shock, and you try not to make a deal of hearing two sets of footsteps headed toward the kitchen.

“How’d you sleep last night? I know how scary it can be to rest your eyes in a new place.”

“I think I did pretty well,” you answer quietly as you step away from the fridge and lean against a section of the counter that faces out into the rest of the room. “The bed’s really nice.”

“You’re lying,” Wanda accuses as she crosses the room, eyes turning red and hands lifting toward your face.

“What are you--”

“Couldn’t sleep because of us, right?” She chuckles when you go limp under her touch, and Natasha ducks between the two of you to save your glass for the second time. “Did you enjoy hearing us that much?”

“You did sound really good,” you tell her with a drowsy smile as she pins you against the counter to keep you from falling.

“I bet you wish you were in my place, don’t you?” Her tone is light and teasing at first, becoming a bit stern as she shifts to push her thigh between your legs and you instantly roll your hips against the pressure. “Or maybe you want to taste me while Natasha fucks you?”

“No.”

“No?!” she fires back immediately, leaving a red mist around your temples as she grabs your waist with both hands to keep you grinding against her. “You mean you don’t want to cum right now?”

“Well, now that you mention it…”

A breathy moan escapes you as your eyes flutter closed, and if your head wasn’t being forcefully held in place, it would’ve tipped backward. You feel what must be Natasha’s fingertips grazing along your jaw and tracing a line down the side of your neck and toward your shoulder, repeating the gentle motion as goosebumps appeared all over the exposed skin.

“Is everyone decent?”

The fog behind your eyes seems to clear in seconds, and you blink in confusion when you open your eyes to see Natasha and Wanda making coffee nearby. You try to recall even coming into the kitchen, but everything from the moment you stepped into the bathroom to get ready is a blur, so you shake your head and reach for your glass of water on the counter as Natasha responds.

“Come in, Peter.”

“Morning, everyone,” Peter greets cheerfully as he enters the kitchen, his grin falling when his eyes land on you. “Are you okay?”

You open your mouth with the full intention of telling him that you are not okay, not when you were missing at least an hour of memory, and bits of last night were slipping away from you too. But before you could speak, a cold feeling seems to pass through the back of your skull to slip into your brain, and a switch flips.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you respond with a chuckle. “You worry too much, spiderling.”

“The world’s a stressful place,” he grumbles when you playfully ruffle his hair. “Anyway, are you ready to go soon?”

“Where are you headed?” Natasha quickly asks with a frown. “Y/N hasn’t even had breakfast yet.”

“We’re meeting Aunt May, so we’ll eat with her.”

“I just have to grab my bag,” you explain before heading down the hall to your temporary room, feeling the chilly sensation leaving you as you get further away from the kitchen, and it thankfully doesn’t return when you head back. “Ready.”

“Have fun!” Natasha calls as Peter heads for the elevator again, quickly grabbing your wrist once he’s out of sight. “See you tonight, printsessa.”

Her hand quickly shifts to grip the back of your neck as she leans in to kiss your cheek, and the two women are wearing sweet smiles as you turn away from them to catch up with Peter, attempting to shake the shell-shocked expression from your features.

“You sure you’re good?”

“I’m fine,” you insist as the doors close, in hopes that you really would be fine.

Meeting Peter’s aunt was much more of a pleasant experience than you expected, and it was obvious she adored you by the way she spoke to you, although part of you felt she was just happy Peter had more people around to love him. Your day was cut a bit short when MJ unexpectedly approached Peter, requesting to talk to him, and Aunt May offered to drive you back to the tower so you both could escape that awkward mess of a conversation.

“It was so great to meet you today,” you tell her with a grin as you take off your seatbelt.

“Likewise, honey. You have my number so just call me if you ever need anything, okay?”

She pulls you into a hug over the middle console and you thank her again for the ride as you get out of the car, trying not to seem too nervous when you notice Natasha and Wanda standing in the lobby. Your plan was to walk past them without speaking, but you should’ve known that wouldn’t work.

“Why was she hugging you?” Natasha asks coldly as you enter the building and you sigh.

“She was just saying goodbye--wait. Why am I explaining myself to you?”

You keep walking until they’re no longer in your peripheral, stopping abruptly as a red mist surrounds your legs, and your eye-rolling is cut short when Wanda appears in front of you and grabs your chin harshly.

“If Tash asks you a question, you answer.”

“Without attitude,” Natasha adds, which makes you want to roll your eyes again.

“Sorry, I didn’t get the rules handbook when I arrived. Can I go now?”

“You know what?” Wanda cuts off Natasha’s angry response with a smirk. “You can go.”

The red mist surrounding you disappeared, and despite the suspicious feeling that washed over you, you continued on toward the elevator with your head held high. You refused to let them get to you.

It was subtle at first. A slight tingling between your legs that you couldn’t seem to get rid of. In the very beginning, you were worried that something was wrong until you realized where the feeling was coming from when it turned into slow circles around your clit as you caught up with Peter in his room. By dinner, there was the added sensation of fingers curling inside you at a steady pace, and you hoped no one would notice your hips slightly bucking under the table as you attempted to repeatedly chase a release that never came.

A movie follows dinner today, and you make sure to cover yourself with a large blanket because you were still being edged and you couldn’t stop moving at this point. You even try to slide your hand into your sweatpants to finish the job yourself, and your jaw clenches in anger every time your fingers lock up because you know who’s responsible.

“Okay, you win!” you announce as you walk into the kitchen on Natasha and Wanda’s private floor, not missing the look shared between the two women. “I’m sorry I was rude earlier. Can you please just stop teasing me?”

“How about we help you finish instead?”

You should decline. You should just say ‘no’ because letting them finish you off tonight will turn into an attachment that you know you don’t want, nor are you ready for. Inviting them in will be equivalent to selling your soul, and you’re not sure you want to put a price on it. But the ache below your stomach is persistent, and if they won’t let you touch yourself, someone has to do it.

“Fine.”

“Don’t be so grumpy about it,” Wanda teases as she grabs your hand and starts leading you toward their bedroom. “I promise you won’t regret it.”

She pushes you back onto the surprisingly large bed as soon as you’re close enough, instructing you to take off your shirt and bra while she watches. Once your top half is completely exposed, she leans forward to run her hands from your shoulders down toward your nipples, circling them with her thumbs until they harden.

“I don’t like being teased.”

“Oh, you don’t?” she asks in a mocking tone as she reaches for the band of your sweatpants and pulls them down, placing her palm over the wet spot in your panties. “Then what’s this?”

“Please,” you beg through a quiet moan, bucking your hips again when she presses her thumb against your clit through the fabric. “Please just fuck me already.”

“Patience, detka.”

You watch with wide eyes as Natasha and Wanda both strip away their own sweatpants, revealing the toys tied to their legs. Natasha goes to untie hers while Wanda uses her powers to rip away your ruined panties in one fluid motion.

“There she is.”

Natasha puts her hand on Wanda’s back and forces her to bend over, and you bite your lip as her eyes flutter closed and mouth falls open while Natasha thrusts into her. You’re just about to grab Wanda’s hand to lead her where you want, when her eyes open suddenly with a glowing red surrounding her pupils, and your wrists are bound together over your head by an invisible force.

“Did you forget who’s in charge here?”

“Don’t get too cocky, malyshka,” Natasha reminds her as she grabs a fistful of her hair and slams into her, causing Wanda to moan and giggle at the same time.

“My apologies, Tash.”

You couldn’t help your sigh of relief as Wanda finally slid two fingers inside of you, her thrusts deepening each time as Natasha fucked her toward you with her hands on her hips. The sounds coming from your mouth and between your legs were embarrassingly loud, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care as she brought you closer and closer to the edge, until a loud whine escaped you as she removed her fingers and delivered a slap to your glistening folds.

“Tell me who this belongs to,” she orders through her own moans, holding you down when you begin grinding into her hand. “I’m gonna cum regardless of what you do, so you’d better answer. Be a good girl like I know you can.”

“Yours!” you cry out finally, sighing when Natasha leans into your line of sight with a brow raised. “It’s yours and Natasha’s.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

She slips back into you without warning, and your back arches off the bed as she finally brings you to orgasm. She continues to thrust into you as you whine and squirm away, luckily slowing down and finally stopping as Natasha makes her cum a minute later, leaving the strap inside of her as they both catch their breath. Wanda pulls out of you and sits up to lean against her, holding her hand up between them as they both clean your cum off her fingers with their tongues, and you sit there clenching around nothing as you watch.

“You seem tired,” Natasha comments as her eyes land on you again.

“Too bad we’re not done.”

Wanda flips you onto your stomach with a quick motion of her fingers, using her hands to pull you by the waist until you’re on your knees at the edge of the bed, and she holds one side of your waist as she delivers a slap to your ass this time. Her touch lingers as she pulls away to free her own strap, and you nearly fall over when you feel the tip of the toy rub against your clit.

“Wait, let me fuck her this time.”

You hear their soft laughter as they switch places, sharing a kiss in the process, and you gasp when a hand wraps around your neck and pulls you up against Natasha’s chest.

“I like having you this close to me, printsessa,” she whispers in your ear, chuckling when you melt against her as she pushes the tip of her strap into you. “How many times do you think I can get you to cum?”

Her grip on your throat is loose as she allows you to adjust to the size, tightening suddenly when she slams into you once, twice, until every thrust is at a rough pace that you wouldn’t be able to handle if she wasn’t holding you against her by the waist. You feel that same tingling circling your clit again, occasionally traveling upward to tease your nipples as well, and it wasn’t long before you were releasing a strangled scream as you climaxed.

Natasha eventually stops thrusting into you as your legs shake, and you breathe out another sigh of relief when she allows you to fall onto the mattress. However, the relief is short-lived when you realize that she only paused to let Wanda push into her from behind, and it wasn’t long before the two of them found a rhythm that was pleasing them and ruining you.

Your wrists are freed as Natasha pulls out of you some minutes later, and you collapse onto one side of the bed with your body aching a bit from a third orgasm, your eyes only halfway open as you watch the pair. They remove the straps from their waists and set them aside, and you become a bit more alert when you notice Natasha grab what seems to be a double-ended dildo.

“No more. I can’t,” you mumble tiredly as your wrists are bound by Wanda’s power again.

“One more, and you can,” she tells you as she flops onto the bed beside you, and that red mist surrounds her fingers again as she guides you onto your knees to hover above her face. “You wanted to cum, so you don’t get to run from this.”

Her hands grab your waist and pull you closer, and you release a shuddering moan as her tongue runs past your hole and over your clit, teasing it a few times with the tip of her tongue before diving in to wrap her lips around it. She alternates between sucking your clit and slipping inside you as Natasha climbs on the bed behind you to position herself with the new toy.

“Fuck,” Wanda attempts to say once Natasha begins thrusting, and you fall forward as the vibration of her moans become too much, whining when Natasha slides her hands over your breasts and pulls you back up again.

“Take it all like a good girl.”

She keeps pulling until your head drops against her, and she moans against your neck while she kisses and sucks on your skin, bouncing faster on Wanda who groans loudly in response as she attempts to match each thrust. The hums of her voice has you grinding against her tongue, and you yelp when Natasha bites down just as Wanda brings you over the edge. She keeps going despite your protests, managing to get you to cum once more before they finally do.

You lie there with your bones feeling like jelly as you’re covered with a blanket minutes after everyone’s bathroom trip, too tired to even fight for sleeping in your own bed as Natasha and Wanda slide in on either side of you.

“You did so well tonight, detka,” Wanda praises as she strokes your cheek with a loving stare. “I can tell you’ll be a great addition to our relationship. I knew it from the moment I saw you.”

“I’m not doing this again,” you insist as the smile fades from her expression. “I’m not getting in a relationship with two women that don’t take ‘no’ for an answer, and I’d prefer sleeping in my own bed.”

“You’re already in a relationship with us, printsessa,” Natasha growls as she shoves you back down when you try to get up, and you push her hand away.

“There’s nothing you can say that’ll make me want to be with you.”

“It’s not about what you want to do. It’s about what you have to do.” She grabs your phone from the nightstand, and you’re somehow not even surprised when she unlocks it on the first try. “Because it’d be a shame if someone was to tell Peter about all the nudes you have of him.”

You snatch the phone from her grip, eyes widening as you scroll through your camera roll, finding naked pictures of Peter scattered throughout it. You check the date on the oldest one and began to feel nauseous when you saw it was taken not even a month after the two of you met.

“Don’t think you’ll be deleting those either, because we can replace them and make things worse.” Her smile was falsely sweet and troubling as she grabbed your chin to force you to make eye contact. “We’ve gone this long without having you, and we’ll do whatever it takes not to lose you.”

Tags: @cordeliaswhore @egotisticalstoner @muralskins @natasha-danvers @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @madamevirgo @teenwonder @honeyvenable @slut-for-nat

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probably-haven · 3 years

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after binge reading i have come to a new revelation: I’m not a fan of most Xiaoven fanfics

Don’t get me wrong, I love the ship and its one of my favorite to think about.... but most of the fanfiction for the ship just- doesn’t sit right with me for a number of reasons.

Disclaimer: these are personal opinions from my own taste and are in no way an attack against any authors out there, because frankly fanfic authors are great and not like i could do better lol. As these are personal opinions, I acknowledge here and now that a number of people disagree and that they are under no obligation to change their opinions in any way as it is not and never will be my intention to tell others what they should be thinking That said- read at your own risk if you want- meh, anyway-

time to share some opinions that have been on my mind lately

The biggest reason.... is how they handle Xiao. And I don’t even mean mischaracterization because Xiao is such a complex and yet simultaneously simple character that as long as you’re somewhere in the range of “Xiao vibes” it’s really hard to write him out of character because of his complexities. What I mean is something that i actually completely agree with as being accurate to his character. In nearly every single fanfic I’ve seen, there is some element of idolization that Xiao has for Venti, or for the sake of reference, Barbatos. He tends to think himself beneath Barbatos and/or indebted to him, whether that be because he’s an archon, because he saved him, or simply because of Xiao’s tendency to dehumanize(yes i see the irony in that word usage) himself. This by itself isn’t an issue but its often how this trait of his is treated.

Imma just list a few ways I’ve seen this be handled within Xiaoven fics. - It isn’t handled, it’s just there and accepted as a part of who he is in the story - It isn’t handled but his trait is treated as source of humor within the story - Venti(and others) roll with it (finding humor in it, just cant change it, encouraging it, making jokes about it, etc.) - Venti takes advantage of it(whether accidentally or purposely) - it’s actually addressed(by Venti or someone else or the narration- can go a number of ways, but just- even a brief reference to the fact that its not a good mindset fits in here) - savior!Venti(Where venti disagrees with it but the way it’s written gives off “god among mortals” vibes- like he’s just being humble and truly is above him in reality) - its the focus of the story - not directly addressed but shown to be destructive. - they chose not to not include this in the story’s characterization of Xiao(just saying that this is valid ahead of time) Theres others but i have a lot already. Note that I tend to read more ‘serious-toned’(idk if that makes sense) fics so that may skew my perception

Now there’s a few that i have issues with on their own- both instances of it not being handled, Venti(and others) rolling with it, Venti takes advantage of it(purposely(and without good intent)), and savior!Venti. Xiao not only has this trait, but he is unfamiliar with what is normal in relationships or emotions as a result of isolation and inexperience. He is also either not aware of or not concerned with what is considered strictly “healthy.” Combining these makes for a rather dangerous combination and just accepting it as “oh he’s just like that, it’s who he is” or making it out to be something funny- It’s not wrong or bad by any means necessarily, and I could still possibly enjoy it to an extent depending on a series of different factors, but its- not as often. Even in the case where I do enjoy reading it however, I would still feel uncomfortable sharing it with or recommending it to others because in the first instance it feels like normalizing a destructive and dangerous mindset, and in the second case it does the same while simultaneously making a joke of it. It’s the same deal with Venti or other characters rolling with it, but that’s probably gonna be mentioned later too. Not to say that this is a “wrong” way to handle it, that it makes the fic bad, or that authors even are normalizing anything by doing so, just that in my specific instance- not a fan.

I’ll get to the others when i talk more about Venti, but for now: It’s the focus of the story. I think I saw like... 2? where the story was like- focused on this and why its a problem which- power to them, address those real world problems like a boss- but also i wouldn’t actively seek it out or anything- like, good job, but doing so just leaves it open neutrally for other factors to decide how good a story i think it is.

not directly addressed but shown to be destructive. You’d think i wouldn’t like this- but frankly in fanfiction not everyone wants to address every character flaw verbally because it can through off story, narration, dialogue, and general flow to do so. This can be with an event, an action, a dialogue, a mere comment, making it actually fit into the it’s actually addressed category except that its- subtle enough to make its own category. plus i live for show not tell- in everything- its a thing. im- very much a fan of when the fics do this but the subtlety is easy to miss and its not common so-

It’s actually adressed- doesnt have to be a lot- just mention anywhere or imply anywhere that maybe idolizing someone as a god and savior and being in a relationship with them while having little knowledge of standards, emotions, relationships, or healthy behaviors in general- maybe isnt the smartest idea in the word. (”Call me Venti, not Barbatos” by itself is not enough to fit in this category tho as a note)

Now lets talk about Venti...

uh.... those who have followed me for awhile will probably already know this but... I have a lot of opinions on Venti and a pretty- “niche(?)” perception of his characterization that isn’t shared by a lot of others- so I don’t actually read as much Venti fanfic in general as you might expect because I often end up disagreeing with how writers portray him, which again, in no way is their characterization wrong, but- “their perceived truth” conflicts with “my perceived truth” and by extent so does the characterization, though neither is any more correct than the other from an objective point of view, if that makes sense... but anyways now that that’s said, moving on before this becomes a philosophy lecture, as fun as that would be for me. I’ll try to keep my “perceived truth” out of this for the first bit.

Venti’s response to this:

He rolls with it: this depends on the mood of the fanfiction. If they dont put a lot of stress on that trait of Xiao’s it totally fine but if the trait seems to be a major part of Xiao’s character, it seems like normalization once more. (more on this later)

he takes advantage of it purposely: if its an AU or something and Venti’s like a villain(i saw a few) then- villain venti isnt my cup of tea but i have no qualms. If they don’t portray Venti in a negative light while having him take advantage however that’s a bit uncomfortable to read for me because it feels like normalizing taking advantage of that mindset as well as the mindset itself. However, i did see a number of instances of Venti using it as leverage for like- self care- which i definitely have no qualms. Xiao: [insert probably destructive idolizing statement about being indebt] Venti: How bout you pay me back by actually sleeping for once smh or other variations are okay and depending on the vibe are actually a really fun dynamic as long as it doesnt turn into romanticizing or normalizing it, y’know?

Venti accidentally taking advantage of it.... I love angst- and in most of these theres a sense of guilt when he realizes- and i just think thats a lovely way of addressing the dangers of such a mindset for both sides. As long as it doesn’t keep repeating to the point of romanticization its totally cool to read in my eyes(not irl ofc). If Venti never realizes he accidentally took or is taking advantage it feels a bit like normalization, and if he does but just- doesn’t care thats- a rip.

savior!Venti...... i- i hate. the story giving off vibes that Xiao’s mindset is technically correct while Venti oh so humbly tells him to treat him as an equal like the wonderful and charitable person he is.... i just- no. of course thats over dramatizing it- I think the main thing that gives it this vibe is when Venti doesn’t seem either concerned, surprised, uncomfortable, or otherwise have a negative feeling towards Xiao’s mindset. Just- it makes the whole thing weird in my eyes when Venti doesnt really seem to have his own reason to oppose the mindset idk-

fact time!

Venti is the god of freedom. His backstory is freeing Mondstadt from a god’s tyrannical reign. His origin is a windsprite, just another breeze bringing changes for the better. His form is a nameless boy who played an instrument and then died, thus failing at his only dream and only ever accomplishing anything because of the help of others. He slept for a thousand years after the archon war to avoid putting Mond under the rule of yet another tyrannical god. He only even became a god because Andrius chose to let him. He wouldn’t have even had that chance if the nameless bard had survived, he’d remain just another wind while his friend ascended to godhood. Venti sacrifices his own power for his people’s freedom.

now that I’ve laid out a number of canon facts, time for opinions:

Venti has little to no desire to be seen as a god. He thrives in, comes from, and emphasizes a lack of superiority in quite nearly everything. The first Ragnvindir, who canonically turned his back on Venti after Decarabian’s fall, likely did so because one- he anticipated power would corrupt and Venti would soon become just another tyrannical god, two- he suspected Venti used the nameless bard in an attempt to rise to godhood, or three- idk insert other possibilities to acknowledge again that i could totally be wrong.

Look me in the eyes and tell me Venti wouldnt trade godhood for his friend in an instant. His godhood was only granted to him because his friend died and could easily serve to constantly remind him of what could have been and what he lost. Venti takes no enjoyment from being seen as superior and in my opinion, I feel that it could actually make him largely uncomfortable when his divinity and abilities as an archon get involved-

also self promotion for my favorite posts- check out #archon war era venti if thats interesting to you

so anyway Venti rolling with it or making jokes about it just doesn’t sit right with me.-

Okay! enough talking about that mindset!

idk- i have... a few/lot of other gripes and stuff or just things that kinda throw off the vibe for me but that’s the main one plus my general personal pickiness when it come to Venti fanfics- but this has gotten long enough already-

idk i just felt like rambling about it and i haven’t done a long post in a while so-

again, I love the ship and its actually one of my favorites- just the fanfic isnt my thing..... that doesn’t mean i don’t still love it and come up with a whole ton of brainrot and ideas on it tho lmao

#genshin impact #genshin xiao #genshin venti #xiaoven #genshin barbatos #opinions #discourse #? idk ill tag it just in case #dont mind my constant backtracking and justifying and repeated disclaimers-#i just have a crippling fear of being cancelled lol

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spicynamericano · 3 years

Text

Perception. - mk lee

sypnosis: you meet a stranger in the park, who helps you prepare for your interview with renowned author, mark lee.

word count: 2.1k

genre: fluff, strangers to friends!au, author!mark x reporter!reader

a/n: i impulsively wrote this in the wee hours of the morning because i can't stop thinking about mark lee and his poems! btw, this is my first time posting an au on this platform, but i do have ongoing twitter fics (written in eng/fil)!

I had just finished my late night shift at the office and was on my way home from work. Being a field reporter is not an easy job. I have to work my butt off to always stay up to date on the latest news and make sure to grab even the rarest exclusives.

I have to travel to basically anywhere, just to gather the most accurate information for the daily primetime news. And even if work is done for the day, I would usually go overtime to make sure no single detail is left out for tomorrow’s reports.

My workplace isn’t that far from home, or what I call home now. Moving into my elder sister’s old apartment was not a hassle. It was actually quite a blessing since I always used to stay over whenever we visited the city. I really thank the heavens that her place was near my workplace. Imagine the struggle of moving in and out from scratch. Actually, I wouldn’t even dare to imagine.

I would usually ride my bike to and from the office, but since I was running a bit late earlier in the morning, I decided to take the bus. Convenience at its finest. But it’s late now. A fifteen minute walk back home won’t hurt, right? Besides, I needed a breather. A walk in the nearby park would suffice.

It’s midnight and of course, the park is empty. Although Seoul is alive 24/7, I really like how some areas still have that laid-back vibe. I walk to the swings and place my bag on the ground. I do wish someone would push me right now. I just wanna be free from all the hectic stuff I’ve been doing lately.

But no, the quick rest I thought of didn’t stop me from going over tomorrow’s duties. I scan my little, brown notepad and check the work I have yet to accomplish. I mostly finished them before I got off work, but there is one more that I needed to do for tomorrow: interview Mr. Mark Lee, the author of the best-selling Late Night Scribbles.

It’s a collection of poems and prose he’s written over the course of five years during his travels to different cities as a renowned travel writer. His travel reviews and recommendations were something I always looked forward to reading. Maybe someday I could go on a stress-free holiday trip thanks to his advice.

I have read his book. For someone who’s trained into more technical writing like me, I could still clearly resonate with most of the poems he’s written. Not too shallow, not too deep. Though you do need to have a sense of literature in order to understand more of his deeper works. He isn’t famous for nothing.

What appalled me though is that he never showed his face to anyone, not even once. Some say he’s actually the main rapper of the world-renowned boy group NCT, since they bear the same name. I think otherwise. Well, it could be, though. Rappers do make their own lines and tell their own stories.

But I don’t think that Mark Lee would be the same person I’d be interviewing tomorrow. It’s weird because I won’t be actually meeting him face to face. He said he’d rather converse through email. Works for me since I don’t have to travel tomorrow. Thank God.

Well, let me tell you a secret. The reason I don’t think author Mark Lee is singer Mark Lee is because singer Mark Lee is actually my childhood best friend. Crazy, huh? I used to live in Vancouver when I was young until my family and I moved back to Korea during my teen years.

I don’t think he remembers me, though. But I do remember him. Our moms were practically best friends. I couldn’t say the same to us, only if he still actually remembers me.

I stretch my arms up high and bend it side to side. God, I need a massage asap. I was about to pick up my bag when a basketball rolled over and hit the tip of my loafers. A man dressed in black waves from the court, signaling to toss the ball to his direction.

I would toss it if I could but I walk over instead. Blame my poor strength and reflexes. And I obviously do not want to embarrass myself. A rough day’s a rough day. I don’t want an addition.

“Uhm, are you looking for this?” I ask the guy, tossing the ball mid-air.

“Yes, thank you…” he pauses. “uh…”

“Oh, it’s (y/n).” I introduced myself, “And you are?”

“Minhyung.”

“Well, you’re welcome, Minhyung. Good luck with your basketball practice!” I gave him a nod before finally turning back to go home.

“Wait!” he calls out. “Do you maybe wanna have a cup of coffee? There’s a nearby convenience store still open. I figured you might need it.”

Was it that obvious? I can’t imagine how stressed I look right now! He has probably seen the dark circles under my eyes. Gross.

I finally turn around and give him a smile, “You know, maybe I do need it. Let’s go?”

This man and I walk to the nearby convenience store just a few meters away from the court. It’s midnight and not many people are here. Well, just exactly like how I want it. The park can actually become full, even until 10 pm. But I guess these people also need some shut-eye. I’m actually surprised this man right here still has some energy left.

I wait outside and sit at the nearest gazebo while he buys instant coffee for the both of us. He arrives with three in hand. Does he like coffee that much?

“You’re really gonna drink two?” I ask him curiously.

“It’s actually for you,” he says as he hands me one of the cups. “I feel like you’re going to be staying up late tonight.”

Well, he’s right. I am gonna be staying up late. I still need to prepare questions for tomorrow’s, or later, rather, interview. I really won’t be getting some sleep tonight. I also need to do research on him too.

“Well, I do have an interview for tomorrow. I still need to prepare as it’s a very important one.”

“With whom, may I ask?”

“Mark Lee, the author. Not the singer.”

“Oh,” he lets out a soft sigh that can be heard, even through his mask. Is he offended that I don’t think author Mark Lee and singer Mark Lee are the same?

“Why do you sound so disappointed?”

“Uh, nothing. I just remembered the book he recently released. Have you read it?”

“Late Night Scribbles?”

“Yes, that!” he answered enthusiastically. Wow, I guess I found a fan right here. He might actually help me with my interview later. I need to grab this chance.

“Do you mind helping me? I’m actually going to interview him about it tomorrow.” I gave him the widest smile, hoping he’d say yes. I normally wouldn’t do this to strangers, especially at night. But I really just need to get this over with.

“Well, as someone who’s a fan of his works. I’d like to give it a try and interpret it,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee. “Just imagine I’m Mark Lee. Shoot your questions.”

“Hmm, I can’t be answering personal questions since you’re not Mark Lee.” I scratch my head. Damn, I can’t think of anything. My brain is not working right now! “But if you were Mark Lee, what would you want to be asked?”

“If I were Mark Lee? Well, rather than asking what my inspiration was behind the works I’ve made, I’d rather be asked on how I tried to convey my thoughts and feelings to this piece of work,” he explained, staring at the night sky.

I followed the direction of his gaze, and he’s looking at Orion, one of the brightest constellations out there. I gaze at it too while waiting for him to continue explaining.

“But isn’t it basically the same as drawing inspiration from something?” I ask profoundly.

“Not really. You can draw inspiration from anything. And you can come up with different outputs based on one inspiration. What’s important is how you’re able to connect the context of what you’re writing to the feelings you want to draw out,” he continues.

“With a single inspiration, I can come up with two completely different works based on how it’s written. The idea may be the same but the context is not.”

“Hmm, care to explain a little further?” I ask politely.

“We can use Black Socks as an example.”

Black socks are underrated

The way they connect the bottom sleeves of

my black sweatpants to my black sneakers

is just perfect

Pleasure from perfect alignment

That also goes for the ability to be parallel

with my thoughts and actions

I try to live out what’s in my mind, and keep

it consistent even when forgotten like a

working habit

A moment to think twice about what

seemed unimportant

Black socks have been making my day

these days and I knew I had to return the

favor by acknowledging them

I throw you in the bin only so that you can

be renewed again

“Black socks, literally an ordinary object that is tossed to the bin right after use. But what caught my eye is his appreciation for this mundane thing.”

“Through his words, you can tell black socks gave him comfort. He used a simple subject to convey his inner thoughts of how every little thing we don’t really recognize can actually be part of our routine, our life,” he said, looking me in the eye seriously.

“He found comfort in the most ordinary things no ordinary person would take notice of.”

Minhyung stands up and stretches his arms. He then continues, “It’s actually cool he shared this piece with us. If I were him, I’d go on and ramble how black socks could ruin my laundry.”

We both chuckle at the thought. It’s true. I hate how some of my black socks actually ruin my laundry. I dread the thought.

“It’s only a matter of perception, (y/n). Sometimes, you have to open your eyes and see, not look. Listen, not hear. Savor, not taste. Feel, not touch.”

“You know, you could actually be Mark Lee himself,” I tease him, “You do know your literature.”

I know he smiled at my remark. I can see his cheekbones rise from the edges of his mask.

“Sometimes, you just have to ask the right questions in order to get the answers you want,” he said teasingly. “You can’t get what you want if you don’t know what you want.”

For a stranger, he’s indeed a good talker. I actually learned so much from our talk tonight.

“Thanks for tonight, Minhyung. I really learned a lot.” I thank him before gulping down the last cup of coffee he bought me. “And thanks for the coffee, by the way! I now have energy to prepare for my interview later.”

“No problem. I’m just glad that I was able to help.”

I stood up from my seat and we both started walking away from the park.

“It’s 1 am. How are you gonna get home, (y/n)?” Minhyung asks worriedly. Yeah, it is pretty late. It’s a good thing I just live near.

“My apartment’s just two blocks away. I can manage,” I say with a smile, a genuine one at that. “How about you?”

“I’ll just grab a cab. Do you mind if I walk you home?” I don’t know why but I felt flustered for a moment. Surprisingly though, I just nodded my head, giving him permission to accompany me home.

We both arrive at the entrance of my apartment building and we say our last goodbyes.

“For a stranger, you really do know how to make people comfy,” I say, crossing my arms and giving him a stare, brows furrowed to tease him.

“Well, that’s just how I am,” he says while giving me a wink. Okay, now he’s flirting. Someone stop him, please. Just kidding.

“By the way, you haven’t taken your mask off the entire time except when drinking coffee. I couldn’t get a good glimpse at you since it was dark,” I explain. It’s true. Add the fact that I’m barely keeping myself awake the whole time. “I might’ve actually thought you’re an idol of some sort. Perhaps, maybe you are Mark Lee.”

“What?” he asks, puzzled and clearly taken aback. “Why’d you think so?”

“Because you share the same name with him.”

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caffeinatedrogue · 3 years

Text

on the qunari

I've seen the cultural clash between the Qunari and the rest of Thedas being sometimes framed as a clash of religions much alike the tensions between islamic and christian cultures in the middle ages/modern era. However, if we go beyond the ‘arab-sounding’ language and some other surface-level similarities (such as Tevinter and Minrathous possibly standing for Constantinople), things are a bit different. If an analogy is to be drawn with something existing in our world, it would actually be the clash between two political ideas that were formulated in Greece - Plato’s idea of the utopic ‘Republic’ and Aristotle’s writings in his ‘Politics’ and ‘Nicomachean Ethics’. Buuuut I’m not here to bore you with a deep dive in greek philosophy, and I’ll try to keep things simple and in layman’s terms whenever possible. But since it’s my belief that Plato was the main source for writing the Qunari (knowingly, or unknowingly, but imo almost certainly for the political part) there’s some philosophical bits we can use to better understand this fictional population.

Please note that Qunari philosophy, the very little we know of, also bears a lot of similarities with east-easian philosophies. However: that is not something I am versed at, and since I do not speak of things I do not know, I will take the conceptual standpoint of the ancient greeks to try and make sense of it, and all of this is just for fun and not to be taken as any kind of gospel. I strongly encourage folks who are familiar with such philosophies to add their readings!) Disclaimer 1: I am a philosophy major/BA. My use of Plato here is not academical. It’s simplified and bits of it are used to play around by drawing parallels with fiction. Don’t diss me for explaining the theory of universals like a 5 years old would. Disclaimer 2: It’s incredibly long. It’s probably badly written. English isn’t my first language. But if you are not discouraged, make yourself a cuppa and follow me in my ravings.

It’si in 4 parts, I reblogged and added each one under the _read more_ , there’s links at the end of each segment to go to the following part 1 - but what do they believe in?

1.1 Koslun was a philosopher Let’s start with the codex basics:

“The Qun is the religion of the Qunari founded under the Ashkaari Koslun, though it is closer to a philosophy than a full-fledged religion.”

Not-so-hot take: Koslun , while little is known about him, seems to have been by all means a philosopher rather than a prophet. In fact, Ashkaari means ‘one who seeks’ and it is said that the Qun is not something to be "believed", but something that is "understood’’. In addition to that the Qunari seem to have no transcendent deity able to provide Koslun with any sort of mission or message. They seem to be a godless people, but one with the stronger belief in….something. To understand what this belief is, then, we might have to take a look at some of their texts - and use some fun irl philosophy to play with them.

‘’Struggle is an illusion. The tide rises, the tide falls, but the sea is changeless’’ .

This bit is very clearly liberally inspired by the famous ‘’Ever-newer waters flow on those who step into the same rivers’’ and “everything flows” fragments of Heraclitus. However, the subtext here is quite different. ‘The sea remains changeless despite the rising and falling of tides’ means that there’s an entity (the sea) that 1. remains at its core unvaried despite the appearances of change and exists beyond these changes 2. is therefore not these changes

We can’t say we know the sea - we know how it appears to us: tides and waves, its wetness, its saltiness etc. - yet none of these things seem sufficient to define what that vast mass of moving water is. This is, Plato would say, because we remain in the mires of what we see, of illusion. But with the use of our mind, we can grasp the idea of the sea, and know that there’s something such as a sea, that causes the tides we see and yet, it is not defined by the tides. And this, friendos, is Plato’s theory of universals in a nutshell. And I’ll be stretching it a bit from here, but it’s an interesting train of thoughts.

Plato believed that the ever-changing world of physical objects we see and experience is a world of appearances: of copies of various degrees of the unchanging, abstract world of perfect ‘forms’ from which everything that exists stems. Whether Plato thought of these forms as pure conceptual constructs or actual entities is a debate that academics still tackle. But, we don’t need these complexities here. And just like that, Plato believed that with a correct use of reason, we would end up agreeing that there must be , for example, an absolute ‘beauty’ that all beautiful things in the world partake of and yet is neither of those specific things, but something perfect and unchanging. Or an essential ‘horse’ that while no horse in particular is, all apparent horses are to some degree, and this very relation allows us to come up with the very concept of ‘horse’ itself. One could say that the ideal ‘horse’ is the truth of the horse, truth that we reach by observing and pondering physical horses and what makes them so horse-y despite one being a My Little Pony ad the other idk, Secretariat.

For the Qunari, something way less metaphysical and complicated but similar could apply: looking at the world of physical objects, the philosopher would see that there are contradictions, struggles, paradoxes.

‘’Tonight, in the desert, with emptiness all around, The sky, endless, the earth, desolate, Before my eyes the contradiction opened like a night-blooming flower. ‘’

But upon examination, they’d end up realizing that there must be an eternal principle behind things, one that orders them and is ‘truer’ than the singular objects. What seemed multiple and contradictory is revealed as being an orderly One behind these deceiving appearances. When the mind rises above the illusion, suddenly, what looks fragmented and struggling reveals its true nature as whole:

“Emptiness is an illusion. Beneath my feet, Grains of sand beyond counting. Above my head, a sea of stars. Alone, they are small, A faint and flickering light in the darkness, A lost and fallen fragment of earth. Alone, they make the emptiness real. Together, they are the bones of the world.’’

Plato identified ‘Good’ as the highest form ( a philosophical nightmare, and not one we should tackle). If the qunari were following a plato-inspired method, they might have come up with the form of One as the superior one, which would be reflected in their texts. The reasoning might have been as follows:

“I am one. The pebble is also one. We are the same in our one-ness, but we are also not the same. This extends to everything that exists. Then what is this ‘one’ that confers to such different things the attribute of singularity? That makes them be ‘one’? There must be a ‘one’ that is not physical, that allows me to think the ‘one’ and that is found in all things.”

This one-ness, Koslun might have concluded, is the true principle of reality that lies beyond the fragmentation. We can catch a glimpse of this ‘one’ in reality, and even identify it in its biggest occurrence as the entirety of the cosmos, but it is still a very much abstract thing.

[addendum because of what was reminded to me in the notes to this post: the Platonic tradition was continued by Plotinus, who reintroduced a strong metaphysical component with his doctrine, and the very fitting in this very case concept of One (quoting from wiki for brevity):

‘‘Plotinus taught that there is a supreme, totally transcendent "One", containing no division, multiplicity, or distinction; beyond all categories of being and non-being. His "One" "cannot be any existing thing", nor is it merely the sum of all things, but "is prior to all existents". Plotinus identified his "One" with the concept of 'Good' and the principle of 'Beauty'. (I.6.9) His "One" concept encompassed thinker and object. (...) The One is not just an intellectual concept but something that can be experienced, an experience where one goes beyond all multiplicity.

Plotinus’ writings majorly influenced Christian, Jewish and Islamic theology (and paganism and gnosticism). ]

But the tool that rationality can use to grasp and communicate these abstract truths can’t be but discourse . Here another parallel with philosophy can be made: discourse is what the Greeks called ‘logos’. It’s a term with a quantity of meanings, but in greek philosophy and onward it notably became a technical term that also identified the very principle of order and rationality in the universe.

In light of this, the qunari bit ‘To call a thing by its name is to know its reason in the world’ has a whole lot more importance: the words that must be used to define a thing should not be merely arbitrarily chosen words, but an expression of its place in a superior, rational order that encompasses all things and that language itself, if used correctly, unveils and communicates.

click here to read part 1.2

#dragon age meta #qunari #qunari meta

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sou-ver-2-0 · 4 years

Text

Why calling it "logic versus emotion" makes sense

At the end of chapter 2 in Your Turn To Die, the player is forced to choose between killing Sou or Kanna. Kanna frames this as a choice between "logic" and "emotion," where saving Sou is the "logical" choice and saving Kanna is the "emotional" choice.

Personally, I love the writing in this part. I think it's the strongest writing in the whole game. However, since joining the YTTD fandom, I've read various posts from fans who don't like calling this a simple choice between "logic" and "emotion." For them, it felt like an emotional choice to save Sou, while it was a logical choice to save Kanna. After seeing this argument so many times, I decided to unpack my feelings on it. I also wanted to write my own defense of why calling this a choice between "logic" and "emotion" makes sense, at least to me. For me, it all comes down to how it’s written as a choice between two opposing worldviews, and I don’t focus on the little technicalities. I’ll also argue that the game is using descriptive language, rather than prescriptive language.

But first, we have to deal with a strange irony about this choice:

For the genre-savvy player, yes, it IS "logical" to save Kanna and "emotional" to save Sou.

Before writing anything about this choice, I need to acknowledge that Sara and the Player are two different people. They're obviously connected, and they inform each other's feelings and choices, but they still exist in different worlds. Sara is actually trapped in a Death Game. The Player is vicariously experiencing what it would be like to be trapped in a Death Game through a fictional story.

I'm not going to argue that Sara necessarily likes Kanna more than she likes Sou, and thus it is more "emotional" for her to save Kanna. It's possible to play Sara as someone who isn't that affectionate of Kanna, and she can act generously towards Sou. That's not the main issue here.

The issue is that the Player expects the fictional story to go in certain directions based on the morality of their choices, while Sara has no such meta expectations. The Player can reasonably expect to be rewarded with a happy ending at the end of YTTD if they make the "correct" moral choices. Saving Kanna feels like the "morally correct" choice on a gut level because she's a child, while Sou is an adult. So the Player may choose to save Kanna purely for logical reasons. They're not trying to be selfless or wise; they just want a reward from a videogame. And...they're not wrong! Immediately after saving Kanna, the player is rewarded with a cathartic scene with Joe, cluing us in to the idea that choosing Kanna is the "good path."

Meanwhile, if the Player saves Sou, they're saving him in spite of knowing that this could logically lead to a "dark path." You might save Sou because he's a fascinating character, or because you're curious what will happen, or simply because you think he's cute. These are all emotional reasons. Maybe you don't expect any "happy" rewards if you save Sou, but you still expect the story to be exciting with him around.

Speaking for myself, I want to see both the Kanna and Sou routes for reasons that are both emotional and logical. I sympathize with both characters, and I want to analyze them as they continue their arcs. I just think they're great characters connected to fascinating themes about humanity.

In other words, the Player is going to have all sorts of feelings about this choice based on the safety of their separation from the Death Game. It's only a videogame to us. We're not actually killing a child or a young man. We still feel sad about the story, but it's a safe sadness, one we can control. You can make your choice based on which type of tragedy is more interesting to you in the moment.

So that's how the Player experiences the choice, but what about Sara? Does it still make sense to call it a decision between "logic" and "emotion" for her? I would argue, "yes." First of all...

"Logic" and "emotion" are descriptive terms for the argument styles of Kanna and Sou, respectively.

Using "descriptive" terminology means that we attempt to classify language as it is actually being used. Using "prescriptive" terminology means that we dictate how we should be using language.

When Kanna calls this a choice between logic and emotion, you might have thought she was being prescriptive. You might have thought something like, "You can't tell me how I should feel about this." But I think Kanna was simply being descriptive of the language she and Sou were using. It's a fair assessment of their opposing argument styles.

Kanna argues that you should vote for her by appealing to your sense of logic. She eloquently makes the case that Sou has proven himself invaluable to the team with his computer hacking skills. He came extremely close to finding an escape route just before the second Main Game began. With more time, he could find another one. If he dies, there is no one else in their party with his valuable skill set. She also effectively weaponizes her own helplessness by arguing that she is a "useless" child. She states that dying for the greater good "is the only thing she can do." What I love about Kanna's argument is how she twists Sou's own words against him, since Sou has been using coldhearted logical arguments since the beginning. She shows how much she's learned from him, and she's even able to outsmart him.

Sou argues that you should vote for him by appealing to your emotions. He furiously makes the case that he is the most hated member of the team and that you should give into your hatred of him. He says that the choice ought to be obvious based on your feelings. He calls Kanna stupid. He keeps shouting "Stop!" and "No!" He waves his arms in despair. He resorts to threats and exclaims that he will never forgive anyone who votes for Kanna. Sou's argument is compelling because we have never seen him so vulnerable before. Even with his strong will to live, he has an even more desperate will to save the little girl he's grown to care for. It's devastating to watch such a man break down. After losing his previous eloquence, he is forced to bare his soul and pray that that is enough.

However, even with all that in mind, you could still argue on a technicality that some of Kanna's statements are emotional while some of Sou's statements are logical. For example, when Kanna says that she is useless, this reflects her emotional state since she has low self-esteem. And when Sou starts threatening people, it's logical to take his threats seriously.

But there's something deeper at work here than technicalities. There's still something at the core of their arguments that makes the choice to save Sou "logical" and Kanna "emotional."

At its core, this debate is about how to measure a human life's worth. Do you measure a human life based on how "useful" they are? Or do you recognize a person's worth based on their humanity alone?

This is a choice between two worldviews, which the story calls "logical" and "emotional."

In the logical worldview, you prioritize a person's usefulness over their humanity for the greater good. Also, you must be willing to use people like tools for the greater good.

In the emotional worldview, you refuse to reject anyone's humanity, even if it threatens the greater good. Also, you must accept that some moral causes are more important than survival.

If you vote to save Sou, then Sara prioritizes the greater good; theoretically, the group can use Sou to escape. But being willing to use Sou this way rejects Sou's humanity, because we would be using his talents against his will. For Sou, escape is not worth the cost of Kanna's life. Sara also rejects her own humanity by treating both Sou and Kanna as objects instead of people. Kanna is discarded as a useless object, while Sou is kept as a potentially useful one. This is why Sara guiltily calls this "the worst possible choice" when she makes it. And it's why Sou seems to care more about revenge than survival in this route; there is no meaning in a world where we must sacrifice children.

If you vote to save Kanna, Sara does so knowing it may be harder for the group to escape without Sou's skills. But she embraces Sou's humanity by allowing him to follow his heart. She also strengthens her own humanity by refusing to cross a moral line. This is why Sou actually keeps his will to live in this route and mounts a desperate escape before his death. Because there's still meaning in a world where Kanna is allowed to live. He still dies, but with peace and purpose, and having repaid Sara for freeing his true heart.

In any case, you may still disagree with the semantics of "logic" and "emotion" to describe these worldviews, though they work for me personally. I have one more point to address.

Is it really logical to save someone who threatens you?

At this point, I'd like to talk about the most logical member of the group, the character who immediately votes to kill Kanna: Keiji Shinogi.

You, the Player, may believe that Sou will get his revenge if he lives, because it would make a compelling story. And Sara, a high-school student, may be reasonably afraid of Sou's threats, because Sou has tried to hurt her before. Even though the text doesn't portray Sara as being afraid of Sou in this moment, I understand why the Player would fear for Sara's life. In other words, a logical reason to kill Sou is because you don't believe you can control him. How do you force an adult man to behave?

Enter Keiji Shinogi, who doesn't hesitate. Keiji is stronger than Sou, and he's wicked smart. He's confident in his own abilities. And he understands vengeance better than anyone. He doesn't underestimate Sou, who has outwitted him before, but he decides to accept the risk. Like Sou, Keiji has a ruthless will. I believe that one reason Keiji voted first was because he wanted to assure everyone that "your friendly policeman" would keep Sou in line. So even though Sara doesn't act afraid of Sou in this moment, Keiji is there to calm any hypothetical fears the Player has.

And Keiji commits to this role! In the beginning of Chapter 3, in the route where Kanna dies, the first thing Sou does is disturb the group peace. He puts on his "tough" mask and pretends that he never really cared about Kanna. In response, as everyone else is fidgeting nervously, Keiji laughs and calls out Sou on his bullshit. He eviscerates Sou emotionally, effectively putting Sou in his place and forcing him to be submissive, for now. It's Keiji's way of reminding Sou that they already know how weak he is, and Sou isn't going to get away with any tricks under Keiji's watch. Even if Sou's only "trick" in this case is to pretend he has any pride left.

From a storytelling perspective, I'm sure that these two will keep playing their power games, and Sou is likely to regain the upper-hand eventually. But from an in-universe perspective, Keiji looks like he knows exactly what he's doing in this scene, and Sou looks like a fool who better do what he's told. That is, if he doesn't want Keiji to skewer his heart in front of everyone again.

So where am I going with this?

My most generous interpretation of Keiji's vote is that he decided that Sou's life had value inasmuch as he could use Sou. After all, it's not like Keiji spared Sou out of compassion. Keiji just said that he hated Sou more than anyone he's ever known--and Keiji already killed someone else he hated. The harsher interpretation of Keiji's vote is that he fully expects Sou to die later due to his zero percent survival rate, which would make Kanna's presence technically more of a "threat" to Keiji's own survival. However, I prefer to think that Keiji was swayed by Kanna's brilliant defense of Sou's usefulness. That's because Keiji isn't a simple monster; he's a complex man who still wants to "serve and protect" the group...in his own way.

To follow in Keiji's footsteps and vote with "logic" means that Sara decides to trust Keiji's judgment. We know that Keiji is one of the smartest and strongest characters, in addition to being Sara's reliable ally. This is why I think it's still "logical" for Sara to save Sou in spite of his threats. Because Keiji is still there.

Conclusion

That's why framing the choice as one between "logic" and "emotion" works for me. I see it as a choice between two worldviews, one in which people are valued for their usefulness, and the other in which people are valued for their humanity.

I understand that the Player is going to have their own thoughts and feelings about this choice. Believe me, I was heartbroken too! I really wanted Sou to redeem himself and live. And I think Sara even feels the same way, since she pleads "Don't kill our ally!" when Safalin threatens Sou. It's still possible that Sou could redeem himself in the route where he lives, but I imagine it will be more important that the Player faces consequences for killing Kanna. But no matter what happens in Chapter 3, it doesn't change the fact that it looked possible in Chapter 2 for Sou's skillset to save everyone, and everyone was operating under that mindset.

I think that the writing in this game is stellar so I wanted to defend the story's framing. It surprised me to see folks who had reacted to it differently, but that's all part of the fun. It got me thinking about how interesting it is that the Player and Sara view things differently. It also got me thinking that what seems like a logical choice in the moment could feel like the wrong decision in hindsight.

Thanks for reading!

#yttd #your turn to die #sou hiyori #kanna kizuchi #sara chidouin #keiji shinogi #shin tsukimi #kimi ga shine #your turn to die spoilers #meta #mine #this is absurdly long haha sorry #sou and kanna #my meta

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mimeparadox · 3 years

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The New Half-Truths about Corsets

As true as it is that corsets are often misrepresented in audiovisual and written media, and as glad as I am to see people defending them, GOD, am I annoyed by the current discourse. Not because the defenders are wrong —they’re not, in general terms—but because Twitter, Instagram, and their incentivitization of easily digestible sound bites over nuance haves stripped the conversation from all the complexity inherent in a subject as big as corsets. In seeking to be more accurate, corset defenders have often just muddied the water further, with a brand-new set of half-truths.

Here are my favorite (least favorite) talking points.

“Corsets are literally just bras!”

As a cis dude, I’ve never had reason or occasion to wear bras. I have worn corsets, though, and let me tell you, things like having to take off one’s boots after one has been out in the snow while wearing a corset is work—moreso, I imagine, that if I’d been wearing a bra. Actually putting on boots before a corset? Even harder, enough that “boots before corsets” is a common bit of advice. Corsets aren’t torture, but they do force one to rethink how they interact with the world, in ways different than bras do.

To be less glib though, yes, corsets could and did provide the sort of breast support that is now provided by bras. This doesn’t render the multiple differences irrelevant! For one, breast support is the one thing bras are meant to do: with corsets, it is secondary or even inessential, evidenced by all the corsets that do not provide breast support, such as corsets for men, old-timey corsets for kids, and underbust corsets, which are still definitely corsets.

(Megan Fox in Jonah Hex, wearing a corset that is doing exactly the same thing as a bra. Yes, I know it’s not historically accurate; that is not the point.)

What most miffs me about this argument is that it is exceedingly reductive, and displays simplistic thinking regarding both corsets and bras. Because yes, corsets were like bras…and? What is this argument trying to say, given that bras their own baggage? Is the argument that corsets aren’t torture because corsets are bras? Plenty of people find bras uncomfortable, and something to be abandoned as soon as it becomes feasible. Corsets were purely practical because corsets are bras? Plenty of bras exist for primarily aesthetic purposes—some even do a fair amount of shaping. In the end, both garments have complicated, multifaceted, and distinct features, histories, and semiotics, and trying to equate them in a single sentence says nothing useful about either of them.

“Stays are not corsets!”

Amusingly, this argument seems somewhat incompatible with the previous one, given that stays have much more in common with corsets than with bras, but here we are.

Yes, 18th- and early 19th-century stays are significantly distinct from the corsets that we see later in the latter century, and if someone wants to don Bridgerton-inspired looks that accurately reflect Regency fashions, they should not look at Victorian corsets to obtain it. And yes, one can make the case that stays and corsets were entirely different animals.

Here’s the thing, though: historically, that’s not a case that people made. Corsets are we know them weren’t considered to be a completely different thing from stays, but rather a different style of stays—two different breeds of dog, perhaps, but dogs all the same. Once the term corset entered regular parlance, the two terms were usually used interchangeably, as can be seen in multiple 19th century documents, including technical ones where differences between the two, if they existed, would have been noted.

The Duties of a Lady's Maid: With Directions for Conduct, and Numerous Receipts for the Toilette (1825)

English Patents of Inventions, Specifications, 1865, 3186 - 3265 (1866)

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What’s more, it’s not until very recently that people began treating stays and corsets as altogether different things. Gone with the Wind, the book? The terms corsets and stays are used interchangeably. The Oxford English dictionary? Describes stays as a sort of corset. The longest-lasting site dedicated to corsets on the internet calls itself the Long Island Staylace Association, with no indication that doing so represented an inaccuracy on its part. Sure, Elizabeth Swann should have properly said “You like pain? Try wearing stays”—at least it one wanted to be more accurate (if not good: good writing is partly about making oneself understood). But speaking here, and now, looking backwards? Very few people are trying to be that precise.

Additionally, it’s worth noting that corsets have had a variety of styles and features throughout history, and the term is by no means exclusive to what we most often see as corsets. The S-shaped corsets from the Edwardian era are very different from Victorian corsets, as are the more girdle-like garments that followed. While not everything is a corset, I’ve yet to see a convincing argument that the term isn’t broad enough to include 18th-century stays.

Tightlacing, Part 1: “Almost nobody did it”

Statements about tightlacing annoy me more than most, largely because they involve clearer instances of wrongness, but also because they hit closer to home.

Tightlacing has always been an imprecisely defined term: Lucy Williams, one of the best-known contemporary champions of corsetry, talks a little bit about the various ways the term has been used in her post “Waist Training vs Tight Lacing – what’s the difference?” found on her site. Usually, it refers to a quantitative measure—your corset must reduce X amount to be considered tightlacing—although recently, the discourse appears to have adopted a more qualitative definition, applicable to any instance where someone is shown displaying discomfort at being laced into corsets, regardless of how tightly they are (or aren’t) being cinched.

(Left: Moi, wearing a custom corset from The Bad Button Corsetry; Right, Upper: Scene from Bridgerton; Right, Lower: Scene from Enola Holmes)

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Take, for example, the scene that has most recently caused a stir, from Bridgerton, where the character Prudence Featherington is seen grimacing as she is laced into her corset stays corset, while her sisters wince in sympathy and their mother, Portia, insists that she be laced tighter. Others have raised objections to this scene, focusing mainly on the fact that Portia’s mania for a smaller waist is anachronistic and makes little sense given fashions that de-emphasize the waist, but fewer have noted that for all the hemming and hawing that is being done by the characters, Prudence’s figure is ultimately not all that compressed, and seems perfectly in line with everybody else’s. Is what is been done to her tightlacing? A lot of people appear to think so! And yet, that assertion carries some implications. If Prudence is being forced to tightlace here, is everyone else with a comparable silhouette (again, pretty much everyone) also tightlacing? The answer is kind of important, especially if one also wants to claim that tightlacing was rare.

It’s worth noting that Valerie Steele’s The Corset: A Cultural History, one of the seminal works on corsetry throughout history, doesn’t actually attempt to make a case for the rarity of tightlacing. What it does attempt is to determine the accuracy of claims that women regularly laced down to 18 inches, 16 inches, or even smaller measurements, which is not quite the same thing. When exploring the question by looking at collections of surviving corsets from the era, the book has this to say: "Statistics from the Symington Collection [...] indicate that out of 197 corsets, only one measured 18 inches. Another 11 (five per cent of the collection) were 19 inches. Most were 20 to 26 inches.” While Steele readily admits this is hardly conclusive evidence, she took it as a sign that women with 16-inch waists were nowhere near as common as accounts suggested they were. Case closed, asked and answered, no one tightlaced, right?

Well, no.

Again, it comes down to definitions. Even speaking quantitatively, very few people define tightlacing as “lacing down to nineteen inches or fewer” (certainly no woman in Bridgerton is that tightly laced). The consensus, rather, is that tightlacing is not about the size of the corseted waist, but about the size of the reduction. How much people cinched, however, cannot be determined by looking only at corsets, because doing so requires not only those corsets’ measurements (and even those don’t tell the whole story, given that they don’t necessarily indicate how tightly they were worn) but also the starting measurements of the people wearing them.

In other words, say someone with a 33-inch waist uses corsets to reduce their waist measurement to 25 inches. This, according to most definitions, would be considered tightlacing—a 24% reduction!—and yet the absolute measurements would be nothing to write home about. How is that reflected in Steele’s sample of corsets? Impossible to say. A 25-inch corset could also be worn by someone with a natural 27-inch waist.

What, then, can we say about the frequency of tightlacing? Well, if we’re talking about dramatic reductions of, say, more than four inches (a two-inch reduction, by the way, can look like this—again, more dramatic than what we see in Bridgerton) one can say, with a fair level of confidence, that it was probably not the norm. And yet, “not the norm” is itself a very broad category, and given the numbers involved, “a minority of people” can easily still be “loads and loads of people”, as seen, for example, with COVID-19. Even if two percent of the population who wore corsets tightlaced, that’s still hundreds of thousands of people—hardly “almost no one”, as some argue. And if wearing corsets as seen in Enola Holmes or Bridgerton counts as tightlacing, the number becomes even higher.

Tightlacing, Part 2: “Tightlacing is bad”

Perhaps not coincidentally, another element of the current corset discourse involves taking all the baggage usually assigned to corsetry in general and applying it to tightlacing instead. Corsets are not painful, goes the argument, but tightlacing is. Corsets are not unhealthy, but tightlacing is. People could do everyday things in corsets, they’ll say, but not when tightlaced. Arguments made against corsets in the 19th century were slander made by people who just hated women (another half-truth I have little time for), but are apparently utterly unobjectionable when applied to tightlacing. This, as many modern-day tightlacers will tell you, is bullshit, but it feels like an especially odd argument to make in light of everything else.

As in, what is the point? It feels a lot like saying “I’m not sex-negative, but having sex with more than X partners is icky.” And given the history-focused slant of the current discourse, it’s safe to believe that most people arguing against tightlacing are not people who have attempted it. There is, however, an existing community that will happily tell you, based on personal experience, what tightlacing is actually like.

So from personal experience: tightlacing may not be like wearing a bra, and there are definitely some considerations that you have to take while doing it— getting dressed, sitting down, and eating are all done differently when tightly laced—but this is more logistical than anything, and also applies to other things—running in steel-toed boots is much different from running in sneakers, and the advice when doing the former is often “don’t”. Additionally, the margin for error decreases the more tightly laced one is, but corsets aren’t special in that regard: proper care is much more important when one is flying a commercial jet than when one is flying a one-seater. But yes, you can do physical activity while tightlaced. Not necessarily the sort that you could do in exercise clothes, but then, the fact that suits are not optimized for running doesn’t make suits bad.

Tightlacing, in the end, is not really different from wearing a corset. Some people will like it, some will not, but ultimately, how pleasurable or how unpleasurable it is (it’s very pleasurable, in my book) depends on what you put into it, and that’s something quite a few people—not a majority, but also not “almost nobody”—who are often far more tightly laced than people in movies, would attest to, if people listened.

#Corset #Historical Fashion #Bridgerton #Enola Holmes #Tightlacing #Stays

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

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HASO, “Saved by a Nightmare.”

I wanted to write something short and quick today, but this is what happened instead. I hope you all like. I knw you wanted to know more about the Bran and what happened to Ket

He was alone.

Finally!

He said that, but what he didn’t know is that he had actually been mostly alone for the past five years. After his traumatic experience some five years earlier, he had requested a transfer to a mining station on an unnamed planet in an unnamed system on the very outskirts of andromeda.

He had not come up for air in those five years.

He had not seen a sole or the suggestion of another sole other than the glowing bioluminescent coating that he left behind to brighten up the tunnels just a bit.

He was technically supposed to be down here mining precious metals, and of course every day he sent up a token care of rocks and waste through the main shaft just to make him think he was actually doing something. He was not, in fact, doing anything at all really except slowly excavating his tunnel deeper and deeper, this increasing the likelihood that he would never see another living being for the rest of his life.

And so there he rested at the bottom of the deepest shaft amid a pile of rubble contemplating his own thoughts.

A pastime that was not really recommended because when he went into his own thoughts he often spent much of that time bitterly contemplating the last few years and what had led him here in the first place.

Ket was famous, and he had spent the list five years trying to make himself anonymous once again.

Why was he famous?

Because he had been the first alien to have ever met a human.

He was the first alien species humans had ever come in contact with, and because of that chance meeting he would probably have emotional scars for the rest of his life. When he closed his eyes at night he often watched, as if in slow motion as the dangerous creature with its too sharp teeth and strange churring growl chased him through mases and tunnels, never giving up, never ending pursuit until Ket wa exhausted and lying helpless on the floor.

He saw the thing in his dreams.

Jumped at every noise

And cowered at the very thought.

He had been just a pup then really, but the meeting had scarred him for life.

He had asked to come here only months after the encounter and hadn’t come up for air since. The outside world was lost to him, and he knew nothing of it except for the horrible humans which were now probably waiting for him on the surface, ready to eat him.

A part of him wondered if the strange predator creatures had taken over the galaxy yet, and maybe he was the last one of his species left trapped down here in the dark.

Ket didn’t watch the news, or seek any information about the horrifying creatures that had turned him into this. It would have taken him less than half a day to crawl from his tunnels and go ask, but the thought of leaving his safe, protective confines, just make him sick to think about.

No, he would stay here where it was safe.

He closed his eyes and leaned against the wall, when suddenly a low rumbling tremor rose up through his body.

He sat up and looked around as the cave shook and pebbles danced on the floor.

What was going on!

He turned in a tight circle pressing his ear against the wall.

Oh hell!

The tremor had destabilized his tunnel. He could hear it through the rocks.

What was happening! He tried to move, but as he shifted he felt the tunnel rumble slightly.

On no….. On no, this wasn’t how it was supposed to end, he was going to die down here, and there was no one to come save him. He hadn’t submitted a report in weeks….

In reality years.

No one was going to be ale to find him!

He sat there frozen in shock as another tremor rocked his tunnels. WHat was happening!

*** “Mayday mayday, Omen one this is mining facility 46A13 requisition immediate assistance.”

“Copy that 46, Omen in root to your position, please stand by.”

“And how do you plan on dealing with a tunnel collapse, Admiral. That's not exactly our area of expertise.” Sunny walked beside him, her long even strides eating away the distance as they made their way down towards the hanger.

“I have no idea but we are going to find a way.” They rounded a corner and the Admiral dropped to one knee for a quick moment offering his hand to a small fluffy figure who climbed onto his hand and allowed the Admiral to rest him on his shoulder, “Lord Avex, I am glad you could make it. Have you been briefed.”

The small, colorful, and pig eared creature tapped his foot on the Admiral’s shoulder.

“I think, if we remove one of the Vrul shield modulators, and unhook one of the laser mounts we might be able to make something functional for a rescue mission.”

“How dangerous is that going to be taking two high powered objects into a cave?”

“On a scale of one to ten?”

“Sure.”

“A twenty.”

Admiral Vir grunted and rounded the corner to where a group of marines werve suiting up in armored spelunking gear.

“Don’t the mining companies have equipment for this kind of thing?” Sunny asked, “I would assume they would be ready for any eventuality like this?”

“You would think that.” Adam said, walking over to joining the others, “But they are actually a little less prepared than you might think. The Bran have been mining manually for a long time, and they usually don’t need precautionary measures because they mine so well, of course this planet had also not shown any seismic activity up until now either, so I guess we can all be wrong about something.

“Lord Avex, talk to your men about getting the equipment ready.”

The fuzzy creatures bobbed its head, which looked more like it’s entier body, and rolled down the Admiral’s arm like a ramp, plopping to the floor and then dashing off into the darkness.

Adam pulled on a hard hat and tested the light.

“I still don’t see why they would send you. You guys have to experience in this sort of thing.” Sunny pointed out

Adam secured his hard hat and looked up smiling, “If I didn’t know any better I would say you were worried about me.”

She crossed both of her arms, “I AM worried about you, you big idiot. You seem to have this thing for running into dangerous situations with only half assed plans.”

He just smiled, “Not entirely half assed, we are going to be hooked up to camera feeds leading up to some of the diggers who are going to give us instructions.”

“Then why don’t they do it themselves?”

“The bran aren’t exactly known for their bravery, Sunny.”

She stared at him with narrowed eyes, “And sometimes, I wish that you weren’t known for yours either.”

“I’m flattered, I really am, but I have to go.” he reached out a hand, paused and then drew it back, stepping away while awkwardly clearing his throat, “Anyway, keep the crew out of trouble while I am gone will you.”

Sunny had no time to say anything else as Lord Avex returned at the head of a small army of his fluffy companions carrying some random parts that they were able to attach to Adam with some warning that this was going to be very dangerous.

Lord Avex would be accompanying him to make sure the machine didn’t self destruct at any point.

Sunny did not find that particularly comforting.

The humans on the other hand suited up like it was just another day for them, setting up and loading onto the drop ship without so much as a backward glance.

Adam flew one of the ships down, lord Avex claiming the copilot seat.

The world they landed on was tidally locked with it’s star leaving on side completely cold and the other side overly hot. They landed on the band between light and dark where it was bearable, and made it to within the Bran’s atmospheric bubble, which was the one piece of technology they were actually known for.

Upon arrival they were briefed on the situation.

Less than an hour ago there had been some sort of seismic activity below the surface of the planet. The jolt had been enough to destabilize many of the tunnels. Fortunately for them large groups of Bran had been able to make their way out due to their superior mining skills, but there were still a few trapped inside due to cave ins.

No bran was willing to go back down there to help their comrades, but the Tesraki overseers had had the brilliant idea to look for a group of creatures stupid enough to try themselves.

At least the Tesraki seemed to care about their people, which wasn’t often the case with the furry businessmen.

Most of the workers were stuck on upper levels, and would be relatively easy to get out.

But there was one.

“I am going to be honest with you Admiral, we aren’t entirely sure the bran is still alive down there. No one has seen him in nearly five years. We are only sure that he lives because, occasionally we get sent up a cart of useless rubble from one of the deeper shafts. Generally I would say he is a gonner and just leave him there, but, we have to try all of our options before we resort to abandoning one of our people.”

Adam nodded, “I have a Vrul strength shield and a Celzex designed laser. Will that be enough.”

The two Tesraki looked between each other in quick contemplation before one of them nodded, “The laser, for sure, but I don’t know how well a shield would stand up to the entire weight of a mountain crushing you, we can only hope that we can navigate you down there fast enough and quietly enough not to disturb the tunnels too much.”

“I will go with you to work the laser.” Lord Avex announced, and Adam didn’t argue. He knew the little creature would be offended if he questioned his honor. Celzex may have been insufferable egoists most of the time, but no one could deny their sheer bravery, or perhaps stupidity, but that was something he could admire at least.

He was a human after all, and had practically written the book on competent stupidity.

They were led across open ground under a dark sky, where massive floodlights were being shined down on the multiple tunnel entrances.

They walked a ways into the darkness of the first mine shaft where Bran were still fleeing for cover.

From there each of them was paired with a handler, who would give them instructions on their way down.

Adam was paired with the team lead since he was going to be going deepest. Lord Avex sat on his shoulder.

The Bran stared at them as they walked inside, shying away from the much taller, much scarier looking humans.

Looking at them brought back memories of his first alien encounter, a memory that was both fond and embarrassing considering he was pretty sure he had driven that particular alien to madness.

He had tried to find Ket before, to apologize for freaking him out, but by the time he had gotten around to it, the Bran had already gone to ground. Oh well, maybe one day something would happen, and he would get his chance to apologize

“Can you hear me.”

“Yeah I've got it.: He said, adjusting the sound on his implant.

“Now the entire cave system has been built throughout with audio relays, so we shouldn’t lose contact, but if we do, keep moving forward, and whatever you do, try to keep control of your feet and don’t let them touch the side walls.”

“Yes sir.”

The Bran had mostly cleared out of the front entrance leaving it open for Adam and the group of marines to begin their descent down into the darkness. He looked over at the marines in admiration, never had he had the opportunity to work with such a brave group of men and women, and he looked up to them every day.

They started breaking off halfway down the shaft to their different areas, until Adam was the last one still walking down. At this point the saft was still big enough for him to stand at his full height, and floodlights on the walls were still giving him a good view of where he was going. He had gone down some distance by the time he reached the end given two passages to chose from.

“Left.” he was ordered, and he stepped inside, gingerly making his way across the floor and trying not to touch the walls.

Lord Avex rested on his shoulder controlling his head mounted light.

The tunnel grew smaller and smaller as he went, and he found himself crouching along the way.

Lord Avex moved around back and clung to Adam’s harness.

“See the cracking in the cave above you,”

Adam looked up and did, to his chagrin, see a web of hairline cracks spidering across the ceiling, “Yeah.”

“Those are kept in check by the shoring up along the walls, and you don’t have to worry about them. Cave ins are going to be our biggest concern, now take the next right.”

He did as told,and had to duck under a low opening before continuing his way down. By way of instruction he made his way deep into the ground, sliding down ropes, and climbing through caverns with the ease of a creature that could only have been Bran or human. As far as he knew the Bran were the only other creature that had ever been designed for climbing besides humans, though he was finding that that kind of climbing was a bit different. Humans had originally found their homes in trees, while the Bran had always been cave dwelling creatures.

He found this out pretty soon as he tried to fit his shoulders through a very small opening, slithering forward and trying not to disturb the rock too much.

He was glad he had never been claustrophobic because even he was feeling a little closed off, he could hardly imagine what someone with a fear of being crushed would feel at a moment like this.

“How are you doing down there Admiral.”

He was huffing and puffing rather heavily as he army crawled through the next section of tunnels, lord Avex waddling ust before him.

“Good, good If these caves get any smaller I might not be able to fit though…. Shoulders too big, and there better be a place for me to turn around or otherwise I’m well and truly fucked.” He said that as a joke but a part of him was definitely panicking at that possibility.

“The Bran always build turnaround areas into their tunnel, Admiral, you are going to be fine. Anyway you are approaching the next section. This is a part no one else has been in as far as I know, so we are going to have to play it by ear.

That also was not entirely comforting, but he was going to have to work with it.

He hurried forward , as much as he could and slithered into the vertical shaft going downward.

This was scary as hell, but he kept control and didn’t panic crawling his way deeper and deeper into the caves.

At one point he was coming round a sharp corner some hour down into the dark when a soft rumbling rolled through the stone.

He felt his heart jump into his throat and the rocks swayed around him.

For a moment a spot of true panic colored his thoughts. He was going to die down here…. After everything that had happened….

“Hold on, must be an aftershock.”

He gritted his teeth and kept his head lowered, hand hovering over the control for the shield. He had no idea what would happen if he engaged it this far down, and he didn’t really want to find out, but soon the tremor passed, little fountains of dust falling onto his head. Up ahead the fluffy Celzex was no longer so colorful, matted with dust and gravel.

“Are you ok Admiral.”

“Alright.” he grunted. “A little bit shaken up is all.” He began crawling his way forward again.

Based on our sonar readings, you are getting close. The rock is much less stable down here, so you are more likely to run into cave ins.

He followed as instructed, moving forward and examining the rock below his hands.

As they said would happen they found a caved in part of the tunnel just up ahead.

“You’re going to have to use that laser to dig around one side and create a new tunnel, you will want to avoid the weakened areas of ceiling, so move back a few feet and go through the right hand side”

Before him, the little Celzex move into position ready to fire the weapon, now turned mining equipment.

The laser was bright red and almost blinding in the darkness, and he only had his gloved hands to scoop away discarded rubble, which he gently pushed up the tunnel praying nothing would be distrubed.

It took them a good hour to work through the new tunnel despite the laser, and when they did he was surprised to see an open tunnel glowing with a strange bioluminescent film.

“Something has been living down here.” he muttered kind of glad he was wearing gloves as he crawled into the tunnel.

Getting close Admiral.

***

Ket lay in the rubble ready to die, he knew it was coming, new his life would soon be at an end. Oh how sad it was that it should be so early. Stuck underground in the darkness for the past who knows how long…. Probably no more than a year or so.

Either way he was going to die here, and no one would come to help him. Bran weren’t brave, they didn’t come to your aid.

Bran were cowards at heart and he knew that most of all.

No one was coming for him.

Of course that is when he heard the strange scraping up the tunnel.

He sat up lifting his head and staring into the darkness. WHat could that be!

He was the only one here and had been the only ne here for as long as he could remember. Was he going mad, Where were those sounds coming from!

He pressed back into the wall.

Maybe that hadn’t been an earthquake, maybe there was some sort of giant worm crawling through the depths of this planet finally coming to eat him. Oh the depravity! Couldn’t he just be left in peace!

The scraping sounds grew louder and louder and louder, and he watched in shocked terror as a shadow jolted forward in one of the upper bends.

There was nowhere to run, nowhere for him to go, and even as he thought that the tunnel began to shake again. He held on for dear life, eyes closed praying that death would take him quickly, for he did not want to know what was around that corner. The shaking soon stopped and the figure started moving again.

Ket watched, in mesmerized horror as the thing poked its head around the corner.

Bulbous head, bony shoulders, long spindly arms and bony digits.

Ket began to scream, scream and scream as loud as he could as the creature born of his nightmares scuttled out of the darkness and came crawling towards him. It made some of its same guttural gurgling noises, the ones that had haunted his dreams, and he pressed himself back into the wall screaming and screaming and screaming.

It had come for him at last to devour his heart.

It reached out and grabbed him by the snout, cutting off his scream.

The ground around them began to rumble as the creature gripped him with iron hands, the pale white of its eyes glistening wetly through its dust smeared face.

“Shut UP, shut up shut up, do you want this whole damn thing to come down on us.”

He certainly had not expected to hear his own language, and his attempted screams cut off in a confused gurgle. The rumbling died down a little.

The creature made a gesture with one hand, “Ground team this is Admiral Vir, I have the last survivor and am bringing him up now.”

What…. Wha?

What was going on.

The creature's white teeth glittered in the illumination of his tunnel just as wet and gaping as before.

He was so scared he could hardly move, but shocked as well as the creature from his nightmares pulled him forward and hooked a harness around Ket’s body clipping it to a loop on a harness that encircled the creature's back legs.

“Now do what I do, and you might just live.” The creature hissed at him, still, disconcerting in his own language.

In a daze, Ket followed after as his nightmare dragged him from the collapsing tunnels. Trickling runnel of dust poured down around them from cracks in the ceiling above. It was made pretty clear early on that this creature had not ever been meant for the caves, despite Ket’s memory of one of it’s kind chasing after him through the underground. It was too large, meant to walk upright on thick sturdy legs, but till it climbed with the ease of any Bran.

Didn’t mean he wasn’t scared.

Memories from that night not so long ago, or it seemed to him, kept racing through his mind. Flashes of glowing green eyes and flashing white teeth champing at his heels. The sound of its revving hunting cry as it raced through the darkness. But now he was being towed along behind it as the tunnels rocked around him.

“Shit shit shit shit.” Came the muttering up ahead, and he looked to see that there was another creature riding on the thing’s back. It stared at him with very wide white eyes.

“Lord Avex?”

“Yes?” The creature responded, sounding much less concerned than the predator.

“What happens if you die here?” it was a very blunt and morbid question, but the creature didn’t seem to mind.

“I will be honored for centuries having died in a heroic manner.”

The predator made an incomprehensible grunting noise.

“Admiral, the cave system has been compromised and the tunnels are collapsing. Get out as fast as you can, I repeat as fast as you can, if there is a cave in you will want to be closer to the surface because we might be able to reach you.

They were talking like they expected a collapse, which wasn’t really all that comforting.

The predator went very quiet, but sped up to the point Ket was being dragged along behind.

All around them the tunnels were shaking.

Dust filled the air clogging their vision as the beam of light fractured off dust motes.

They passed a point he had not gone further than in five years, and the predator scrambled up the vertical climb as easily as a Bran would, he scrambled on hands and knees dragging the two of them along. He was almost able to walk in a crouch now, but the tunnels were beginning to cave in around them, rocks falling from the roof and smashing against the ground. The Preditor ducked and pulled to the side grabbing ket around the middle and the strange fluffy creature in the other hand. The tunnel was wide enough for him torun now.

Ket could do nothing but watch.

The predator probably could have escaped if it dropped him, but it refused to do so, adjusting him even as it ran so it could keep better hold, clutching KEt to it’s chest. Its breathing was ragged, labored and panicked, but still it refused to let him go.

He thought he could see light.

And then.

“Its coming down!”

The predator pulled to a stop and threw himself to the ground.

The cave rumbled and roared as rocks egan to fall around them. Ket looked up only to see the underside of the human’s chest and belly as he hugged the two smaller aliens in the leah of his body against the falling stone. He heard the cave ceiling fracture and then felt a pulse of energy around them.

The Last thing he heard was a scream and then a crushing weight.

***

Ket woke unable to breathe, or barely able to breathe, all around them there was a dim glowing of a blue purple nexus, and as he looked he watched the nexus quiver under the strain.

Overhead the predator was curled in around them in a tight ball pressed up against Ket and the strange fluffy creature who was blinking confusedly in the dark.

The predator wheezed as the nexus flickered, holding the two aliens' protection to his chest, pressing his back against the nexus.

“Admiral, are you alright?” The fuzzball asked

“How long will the shield hold?”

“It depends on how many tons of rock we are trapped under.” The Celxex said mildly.

Ket was surprised they were alive at all, based on their original depth he would have said a couple thousands tons for sure.

They were dead.

He glanced up at the predator, nothing more than a dust painted face and two glowing whtie orbs in the dark. This predator had died trying to save him, was dying trying to save him.

It seemed odd that his life was going to end like this.

He looked up at the human and in that moment, in the glowing of the nexus lights he saw the green of its one working eye.

He would have known that color anywhere.

“You!”

The predator looked down at him in confusion.

What? “You…. You’re… that thing!”

“Did a rock hit this one in the head or something.” The one called Lord Avex asked.

But the predator eyed him ,sudden recognition crossing his face, “Ket?”

The creature made that same strange revving noise that made ket pull back in shock.

“Sorry, Sorry, I am just a bit surprised to see you here, I tried to find you to apologize but…. You had already vanished by then.”

“Apologize?” He was so confused

“Yes, I was a bit enthusiastic upon our first meeting. They say I scared you half to death. I promise it was an accident. I never meant it that way, I just get a bit out of hand when I am excited.”

This was news to Ket

He wasn’t entirely sure how to take it.

“Ok ok you two kiss and make up already.” Lord Avex jumped in

The predator grunted, “At least when I die I will have that off my conscience.”

The Nexus flickered and shrunk.

They folded forward on themselves just slightly. Pressed uncomfortably close.

Wheezing fill the hot and muggy confines of their bubble.

The were going to die son.

The nexus continued to grow smaller and smaller until they were curled into a ball with the predator around them, pressed to the point of not being able to breathe. He felt the human’s belly rise and fall with his labored breathing.

They were about to die

And then, The nexus expanded slightly.

The human relaxed, and as minutes wore on the nexus continued to grow until with an eruption it burst up through the rock and dark night sky appeared above them.

The nexus flickered and then died, leaving them all lying on the stone gasping and covered in dust.

Paramedics ran forward to where tey lay with shocked yelles describing how they were still alive.

Ket stared at the human as he was attended to by aliens and others of his kind.

No one seemed to find it odd.

It became clear to Ket in the next few minutes that he had missed a lot.

Bu he hadn’t missed, his once nightmare, becoming his now savior.

235 notes · View notes

levihantrash · 3 years

Text

new chapter update!

Summary:

Levi’s pragmatism pulled the brakes. “I’m not about to dedicate my life to become a broke comic artist.”

Levi Ackerman, a gruff cleaner with an appetite for toilet humour meets the unabashedly friendly creative writing professor, Hange Zoë, who somehow ropes Levi into working on a comic with them. While the comic’s title remains undecided, Hange knows that it’s going to be set in a world where giant, human-like creatures devour other humans. Erwin Smith, the comic’s self-appointed editor, unironically thinks it’s going to be a hit. All Levi knows is that he wants to indulge in drawing this comic while hanging out with a certain writer who just won’t stop talking to him.

Where Hange, Levi, and Erwin are the creators of Attack on Titan.

Chapter 1: Free Bread

Chapter 2: New Friends

Like routine, Levi found himself waiting for a certain professor to show up. When Erwin called out to him, he couldn’t help but search behind the tall, imposing figure.

“I haven’t seen Hange this morning either,” Erwin said. Levi found himself irritated by Erwin’s discernment and by his own discrete uneasiness.

“Good morning, Erwin,” Levi greeted, nonetheless.

Hange was late, which Levi figured wouldn’t be out of the ordinary.

The morning passed without a single sign of Hange.

“Sorry, are you Mr. Levi?” A nervous-looking person approached him, holding on to a well-wrapped steamed bun. A twinge of hope stirred in Levi.

“Levi will do,” he said.

“Dr. Hange said I should pass you this,” the bread-holder blurted out.

Levi’s gaze softened. “Where’s Hange?”

“Oh! She’s rushing a deadline and insisted that I pass you this bread.”

The inexplicable rush of relief made Levi dizzy as he grasped the bread limply. “Huh. Sorry that you have to be an errand boy today.”

“It’s no trouble!”

“Who are you?”

“Sorry! I didn’t introduce myself! I’m Moblit, their teaching assistant! Dr. Hange helps me out with my master’s thesis because they’re my advisor. This is just my way of saying thanks. Dr. Hange also treats me to meals, gives me detailed comments for my work… though they might go overboard when it comes to giving speeches about the importance of world-building and honing your craft, it’s inspiring how dedicated they are in what they do.”

Moblit took a deep breath, making up for lost air in between the lengthy, whole-hearted sentences.

“Is that so…” Levi said, suddenly contemplative. “Do you want some tea?”

“Are you getting it from the staff pantry?”

“No, that stuff’s stale as shit. I have better tea, wait here.”

Levi recalled Erwin asking him in front of everyone in the staffroom if he wanted the staffroom snacks. Hange followed up, speaking at a volume that was clear enough for most of the staff to overhear, orchestrating a deliberate conversation with Erwin.

“Since there are no hard rules as to who the snacks and drinks are catered for, and technically, Levi is a staff member, he should have access to the snacks!”

None of the professors objected. It was probably because open prejudice would be socially unacceptable, Levi thought.

Begrudgingly, he accepted Erwin’s offer, and in full view of everyone, took a candy bar.

Hange gasped. “Just one?” Levi glared at them.

“Aren’t the snacks for your little sister?” Hange asked. He nodded, sensing the collective spike in sympathy for him in the staffroom.

After the whole stage, the trio huddled conspicuously in a corner outside the staffroom.

Hange whispered to Levi, “You could have played along better!”

“Erwin’s tired of your skit,” Levi said, overwhelmed and annoyed at the turn of events.

“No he’s not!” Hange said sternly, before gulping down half a bottle of water.

Erwin, standing in between them, told Hange to keep it down.

“Thanks, you two.” Levi found himself staring at the floor, embarrassed that his two friends had to construe him as a pitiful character for him to get a few snacks, even though he had been informed of the plan prior.

“I’m sorry, Levi,” Hange said, their lips compressed into a hard, grim line. “It’s ridiculous that you can’t even get snacks and refreshments as part of the staff.”

“I’m used to it.”

“If anyone’s giving you a hard time, you have us,” Hange said, still put off.

They squared their shoulders impressively. “Right Erwin?”

“You can rely on us, Levi,” Erwin surmised, equally sombre.

Growing more ruffled by their declarations, Levi hissed, “I don’t need two bodyguards.”

“No, you definitely don’t,” Hange joked. “Some people have told me about the deathly aura you emit that I must have missed…”

Fixing their attention at a vague distance, Hange’s playful jibes dwindled into an idle pondering, “I wonder if you found some joy in our companionship at least.”

They’re talking about joy and friendship again… Levi thought.

He found himself back in the present, handing a cup of black tea to Moblit, guiding him towards a bench.

Moblit squeaked out, “Thank you!”

“How did you find me?” Levi asked, betraying none of his real curiosity.

“Hange gave me a description…” Moblit began, not making eye contact with Levi.

“Did they? What’s the description?” Knowing Hange’s brand of humour, Levi braced himself.

Moblit shuffled in his seat, terribly reluctant. “They said to look out for a cold, black-haired man with an undercut, wearing an apron, gloves and brandishing a mop while scolding people to not step on wet floors.” Levi made a mental note to strangle Hange.

Moblit quickly supplemented, “You’re not actually cold though!”

“How would you know that?”

“Um… you’re offering me tea?”

Levi clicked his tongue. “That’s a low bar for human decency. You should have higher standards.”

“You’re right, Mr. Levi… I mean Levi.”

Levi noted Moblit’s jittery manner when he briefly checked his phone for a message and let out a small groan.

“Hey, you look worried sick. You didn’t receive a death threat, did you?”

Moblit laughed weakly, running his hand through his hair. “Uh, you see, I’m one of the editors for the bi-annual literary magazine and we’ve been looking for illustrators…”

“I take it that you haven’t been successful?”

“Yes… I just received someone’s rejection. It’s okay, we’ll find one,” Moblit said, although his panicked lip-biting ran contradictory to his optimistic statement. Levi’s hands twitched again. He folded them promptly into his apron pockets.

Upon finishing the tea, Moblit stood up and gave a tiny, polite bow. “It was nice meeting you Levi. Thanks for listening and for the tea!”

“Good luck,” Levi said, in time before Moblit rushed off.

Bagging up the rubbish, Levi heaved the load on his shoulder easily, only to be startled by the appearance of Hange.

“Fuck! Can you stop jumping out of nowhere?” Though momentarily disconcerted, the tension built up from the day unwound instantaneously, leaving his body loose and feeble.

“Levi! Did you shit yourself?” Hange sang. They accidentally bumped into the gigantic rubbish bag, falling butt-first onto the ground, phone in hand.

“Be careful,” Levi said, in the same monotonous voice he used regardless of the situation. Unless the situation involved Hange leaping out of nowhere. He looped his free arm under their armpit to pull them back up. Hange, flushed from running, placed their phone in his hands with ill-contained excitement.

“Look at what I found!”

“Oi, what’s this—” Levi scanned the phone, his mouth running dry.

“I’m going to recruit this artist. For my comic.”

It was a sketch of a cat being patted by a person with messy, tied-up hair, their hands stroking its head.

“Don’t you think the person looks familiar? Isn’t the cat cute… remember how I told you I have one at home?” Hange released their brown hair from a voluminous ponytail, biting the rubber band in their mouth.

He swallowed. “I drew that.”

Hange’s mouth hung open. “You’re kidding!”

“Do I look like I make such shit jokes?”

“Personally, I find your shitty jokes very funny. This is exciting news! Why didn’t you tell me you’re an artist when I was trying to find one for my comic?”

Levi found her question preposterous. “You could easily find a better one. I’m inexperienced.”

“I’m also an inexperienced writer. I barely wrote one book and a few articles!”

“You’re a professor. You have the title for a reason. I just draw for fun.”

Hange spared him a baffled look. “Please. You have no idea how many great writers never become professors. And how some professors never write great books. I thought you of all people would know that a title doesn’t mean anything.”

“I thought you of all people would know that titles hold their value here, even if we think they’re stupid and don’t mean shit.”

“I know that, Levi. I’m saying, drawing for fun doesn’t make you inexperienced or unworthy of being the artist for my comic. Besides, I chose you before I even knew it was you!” Hange said triumphantly.

Locking the phone screen, Levi reiterated, “I draw for fun.”

“Then this will be our fun project!”

Levi’s pragmatism pulled the brakes. “I’m not about to dedicate my life to become a broke comic artist.”

“You won’t be broke.” Erwin slipped into their conversation as though he had always been there. It was uncanny.

“What do you mean?” Levi stared questioningly at Erwin.

“You’ll be paid for your work, Levi. Hange as well,” Erwin said simply.

“You’re paying us?” Hange and Levi asked, in unison. One, in disbelief, and the other, in delight.

“A publisher will be paying you. I’ve secured funding.”

Levi gritted his teeth. “A publisher wants to sponsor a comic that hasn’t even been written?”

“I told you, Levi,” Hange interrupted. “I’ve already submitted a draft!”

“Yes,” Erwin said.

Levi had so many questions. “How?”

“Because it’s a good story.”

“Did you bribe them? Threaten them?”

“It is a risk,” Erwin admitted.

“It’s a fucking gamble,” Levi emphasised. “Don’t know why you’re so invested in this comic.”

Hange had other worries. “Levi, did you think I wasn’t going to pay you?”

Levi hesitated. “I don’t know. Isn’t this just a fun side-project?”

Hange’s face came closer to his. With the enhanced proximity, Levi stopped breathing altogether. Their face was deadly solemn.

“Listen, Levi, creating art is hard work. Your hard work. Any artist deserves to be paid. It’s not because our relationship is transactional. It’s because it’s only right.”

Erwin added, “We’re not going to accept your art for free.”

Pushing Hange back firmly with his hands on their shoulders, Levi argued, “Plenty of people have access to my art online for free.”

“That’s your choice. We insist.” Hange grinned. “And we think we deserve to be paid too. Even I’m surprised that my project has early compensation.”

Part of Levi’s resolve ebbed away. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good enough for me!”

“First, you have to tell me what your story is.” Levi gathered up the last of his self-respect. “And if we’re going to be working together, I’ll need your number.”

Erwin raised an innocent eyebrow. “Wouldn’t you need mine too?”

“Stop teasing him, Erwin,” Hange said, grabbing the rubbish bag from Levi, struggling to balance its weight over their shoulders.

Just as Levi felt a shred of gratitude, Hange remarked, “What if he doesn’t agree to do the comic together?”

Patience running thin, Levi stomped on both their feet in a fit of unrestraint that diverged from his unaffected demeanour.

Eyes twinkling, Hange couldn’t help but feel immense glee at the prospect of working with Levi. What was probably Levi’s withheld strength made them certain that he only wanted to dirty their shoes, not bruise their toes. Like Hange would care about the cleanliness of their battered sneakers.

In front of an ordinary apartment door, Hange dug into the depths of their bag to fish out a ring of keys. The size of the ring was unprecedentedly big; the choice of keychain most definitely random, a freebie handed out to new staff that blatantly displayed the university’s name.

Without that much bribery of tea, bread, and friendship, Levi found himself standing beside Hange as they busied themselves in finding the key to their apartment. Erwin had bailed due to having another Important Meeting with Important People, even during a weekend, but encouraged Hange and Levi to take time to discuss the comic.

Hange hadn’t expected Levi to agree so readily to kickstarting the project, and with the generous reception Levi gave (a curt nod and a follow-up question), they thought it’d be best if they invited him over to their apartment. Just so he wouldn’t mistake Hange as a mere business partner. Now that would be upsetting.

Hange pushed the ludicrous speculation out of their head. Levi was first and foremost, a good friend. His bored appearance revealed glimpses of surprise, satisfaction, moodiness, and suspicion. Hange held on to these pieces with the determination to collect them all. Surely, Levi must have figured them out by now. This endless, unabashed interest Hange had taken in him.

“Why are we meeting at your place? Do you need to take a huge shit? Does the toilet at home have a better flush?”

Although Levi had no qualms about visiting Hange’s apartment, he found it unnerving to have a work discussion in someone’s living quarters. It felt too intimate, too casual. He wasn’t sure if he could handle being sucked in further into Hange’s life. They asked so many questions, yet barely answered any about themselves.

Whether intentionally or not, Hange was someone shrouded in mystery to Levi. He couldn’t ask questions either—he wouldn’t—because he was unaccustomed to expressing himself in front of people. More than that, he could envision Hange’s sharp wit poking a clean hole through his muted facade. “You’re interested in my life, Levi?” Damn that four-eyes for being so perceptive. Or was he so easy to read?

“It’s more fun,” Hange said, eventually stuffing the correct key into the keyhole, a smooth click welcoming them. “Plus, I want to introduce you to my friends! Part of the reason why I took up the position at this university.”

“Friends?” Levi asked, slipping out of his shoes to step into the apartment.

“Hange!” A voice rang, and Hange was wrapped in a hug.

“Onyankopon! I saw you yesterday—”

“Three days ago, to be exact, since you always sleep over on the lovely desk at the university.” A smooth voice entered, coming from a woman standing comfortably against the wall.

As the tallest body let go of Hange, it allowed Levi to take in the congenial features of a man whose shoulders rivalled Erwin’s towering, well-built stature. While Erwin’s smile was measuredly cordial, Onyankopon’s was candidly sincere. Watching Hange and Onyankopon, Levi felt as though he were intruding into a family reunion that had invited the entire neighbourhood. Here, he was the guest who came for the free flow of food and drinks.

“I’ve missed you too Pieck!” The woman named Pieck ruffled Hange’s hair, offering them an embrace.

Hange pulled Levi by the elbow, pointing to the new people. “Meet my roommates and college friends, Onyankopon and Pieck!”

“Hi,” Levi said, uncertain as to what else he could affix his terse greeting with. Hange resolved that predicament for him, going into further details about their friends.

“Onyankopon is a researcher and engineer! I can’t tell you the technical specifics of what he does, though, I always get them wrong. Oh, and he’s religious, but he won’t try to convert you.” Onyankopon nodded, affirming Hange’s unflattering introduction.

“Pieck… Pieck is a gardener, florist, and avid gamer! That’s why she’s always bent over, whether it’s tending to her plants or her high score in front of the monitor.”

“It’s not why I need the crutches though,” Pieck said. Hange squeezed her shoulders in response.

“Seems like my friends are all nerdy. Maybe that’s why I like them?” A sheepish smile graced Hange’s lips.

Onyankopon gestured towards Hange, imitating their dramatic flourish. “And this is Hange Zoe, the nerdiest of them all. Obsessed with words. Recently obsessed with science fiction. They’re always reading or writing, and once they start on something, their butt doesn’t leave the chair.”

Levi’s eyes flitted around the apartment—it was relatively tidy, with a couple of framed photos and artworks. A blanket on the couch made it homely enough. His inspection didn’t miss Hange’s notice.

“Like what you see?”

“It’s neat,” he replied.

“That’s a compliment!” Hange took care to disclose this to their two friends.

“All your previous partners don’t take off their shoes, Hange. I hope he isn’t one of those.” Pieck said, using their crutch to relocate Hange’s haphazard shoes to a corner, flipping them the right side up. Levi liked her already.

“That’s gross,” Levi said apathetically, wiping away the horrifying image of dirt-smeared carpets and tiles creeping into his consciousness.

“He’s very clean, don’t worry,” Hange said easily. “Some might even say it’s his obsession.”

“I’m the cleaner at the university.” Onyankopon and Pieck turned towards Hange with patented disapproval.

“Levi, you know that’s not what I meant.”

“I think we’ll make good friends,” Pieck said, bemused.

Hange beamed at Levi. “You’ll love Pieck! She’s really quiet most of the time, just like you. Not to mention she pretends that she hates me. Just like you.”

“Good to know,” Levi said, enjoying the banter a bit too much.

“Hange says she’s going to get you to draw me, as a titan,” Pieck said, evidently sceptical.

“What’s a titan?”

“The giant, naked people I told you about, Levi! They’re called titans!”

“Why are they called titans?”

Hange landed on the sofa with a plop, patting the seat beside them for Levi to sit. “In Greek mythology, titans are immortal giant gods who were banished to the underground.”

Levi, who had little knowledge of Greek mythology, made a mental note to search for references online.

“Therefore, the titans are kind of like vengeful giant gods from the underground who have come to earth to wreak havoc on what the gods have built, which is human civilisation, basically.”

“Basically, I am wonderful enough to be titan-material,” Pieck drawled, propping their crutch at the side of the couch, sliding onto the cushions.

“A special titan that walks on all fours! Um, that’s the plan for now,” Hange said brightly.

Onyankopon, who had been content with listening, clapped his hands together in sudden realisation. “Hange, now that you’re finally home, you can take a shower.”

“I should, right?” Hange scratched their head, feeling the slickness of unwashed neglect.

Levi crinkled his nose as Hange reluctantly made their way to the bathroom. “That’s disgusting.”

“And here you are, still.” Pieck’s amiable statement prickled at his skin like a light warning before impending exposure.

“Hange must really want to make a good impression if they’re showering now,” Onyankopon said, chuckling to himself.

“It’s good to finally meet you.” Onyankopon pushed a newly made cup of tea towards Levi, with the steady confidence that could only come from having known prior that it was the beverage that Levi would desire. “Make yourself at home.”

Levi said his thanks, to the hospitality of two people he scarcely knew, and to Hange, who likely told them about the tea.

Cold water blasted them in the face, as Hange became cognizant of the necessity of showering more regularly. It wasn’t like they thrived in the dirt. Hypothetically, showering wasn’t that troublesome. The shower kept forgetting itself until it was three days later and Hange stank with regret and mild self-loathing. Still, the shower felt good, giving them new clarity about the fact that they had invited Levi into their inner social circle. How would he fare? Would he be uncomfortable? Hange massaged shampoo into their hair, recalling their conversation with Pieck and Onyankopon.

After much elaboration on adapting to a new university, their visits to an amazing bakery, and the fostering of daily encounters with new friends, Pieck had caught on that every other sentence from Hange contained a sliver of Levi-sized anecdotes. The new university was so much bigger than the one Pieck, Onyankopon, and Hange had attended together; it stretched endlessly, and Hange estimated that Levi would have walked 393700.7874 steps to clean just the faculty building. The bakery near the university was fragrant, its selection marvellous, and choosing a new bread for Levi every day was a tremendously delightful task. Moreover, Hange had met so many unique characters since getting to know the people in their faculty, people like Levi whose abhorrence for social etiquette was admirable, and with whom she was eager to share their mornings and lunches. Together with Erwin, of course.

Pieck let out a tinkle of a laugh at Hange’s obliviousness. “Why are you friends with Levi?”

Thinking hard, Hange answered, “I don’t know if he thinks of us as friends.”

“Well, friendship status aside, how’s he like?”

“He’s kind. He doesn’t sound like it, but he’s kind.”

“That’s nice. How’s he kind?”

Confusion coloured Hange’s usual confidence. “Hmm. It’s gut-feeling, I guess.”

“That’s unlike you, to rely solely on instincts,” Onyankopon said, stroking his chin. Hange was a person with an abundance of rationale, a reason for everything, with justification for any ideas. Their reasoning this time fell flat.

Pieck prodded on. “You said that he doesn’t sound kind. Then what does he sound like?”

“Grumpy, sarcastic, serious. He looks like he’s annoyed with everyone. Most people find him scary, I suppose? It’s like he wants people to think he’s an asshole.”

Pieck perked up. “Oh, so you’ve become enamoured with broody, misunderstood people who’re rough around the edges?”

“Pieck, come on, I’m not writing my own romantic trope! I don’t know… he’s a good person. I can tell. He doesn’t say much though.”

“You’re a mind-reader now?”

Hange ignored her. “His art… it’s so evocative. Melancholic. Hopeful. Angry.”

“What was the artwork you last saw of his?”

“A cat,” Hange said immediately.

Onyankopon brought Hange back to reality. “What about him? What do you like about him? Not his art.”

Hange pursed their lips. “Do good people need to prove themselves to show that they’re good?”

“There could be reasons as to why you’re so adamant about his golden character,” Onyankopon said.

“He’s reliable. And his shit jokes aren’t so bad once you get used to it.” Hange surprised themselves with that comment—Levi’s relentless toilet humour was infecting their brain. The corrosive force of the word “shitty” had already moulded itself permanently into their vocabulary.

Gazing up at the ceiling, Hange bent their arms behind their head. “It’s hard to find people to truly get along with.”

Onyankopon and Pieck shared a knowing look.

With their eyes trained to the white ceiling plaster, Hange mumbled on, “it would be nice if he’d talk more openly about what he’s feeling. It’s all guesswork and I’m afraid I’m constantly reading him wrong.”

“Maybe you should take your own advice…” Onyankopon said gently.

“But I do talk about my feelings!”

“Monologuing in your room and reposting vague lines of poetry and sending us memes to cope with your avoidance is not the same as talking about your feelings,” Pieck said, spending the subsequently long moment of silence to snip off a yellowed leaf from the potted Monstera deliciosa next to the kitchen counter.

“Wow.” Hange, for once, had nothing to muster.

Onyankopon’s approach was less incisive than Pieck’s. “You know, I don’t think you need a reason to be friends with someone. If he’s making you happy, I think it’s a good sign.”

“Thanks, Onyankopon,” Hange said gratefully.

“But Pieck’s right about you being deliberately evasive with your own emotions. Introspection shouldn’t be so strenuous, right? Don’t you write about your characters’ internal turmoil often?”

“It’s different when you’re reflecting for yourself,” Hange contended.

“We’ll see how Levi’s like anyway, when we meet him,” Pieck said, grabbing the scissors, going towards another deadened leaf.

“Don’t bully him!”

Another snip. Another leaf fell. “Isn’t he supposed to be scary?”

Hange smiled wryly. “But you two are scarier.”

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dgcatanisiri · 3 years

Text

I won’t say this is my last word on the subject of Legendary Edition bullshit, because... Well, I know myself enough to be able to say that I NEVER have a last word, I’ll always want to rant again later on. But let’s just make this a sort of master post of the issues overall.

So... Is it fair to hold a game that is a good roughly fifteen years old to the standards of the present? Not inherently. So if the games were being produced in any sort of unedited format, that it was a strict translation, 1:1 ratio, of the original to the remaster... Honestly, I’d still be bitter as all get out, for reasons I’ll expound on in a minute. But it could at least SEEM justified. I could consider it the kind of thing that would be expected - if KOTOR got a remaster today, I would not expect that Carth and Bastila would be made into bi love interests, or Juhani would have her romance patched up so that it has the same level of detail and attention as the het romances. If Jade Empire were remastered, I wouldn’t be surprised to see Sky or Silk Fox’s same sex romances adapted so that the straight romances had to be closed out first. That is the kind of thing that, on a functional, practical level, I could understand. Doing a translation from old hardware, the old engine, I get the PRACTICAL reasoning for not making things better. I still object to this on the moral level, to say nothing of the representational one. But PRACTICALLY, I see why - y’know, there’s only so much financial resources going in, and changing things like romances, even if justified, means doing new writing and getting the voice cast back in, which has complications the longer since a game’s original release - actors retire or even die, the passage of time changes voices (like listen to the difference of the exact same lines by James Earl Jones between both versions of the Lion King). Even without those complications, that means paying them, which, in the production of video games, for everything that goes in, something else must go out. So that is the practical argument.

BUT!

But.

But, the thing is, even apart from everything else that I’ll get in to shortly, is that there have been a lot of claims from BioWare about inclusion. There have also been A LOT. of homophobic bullshit from BioWare and Mass Effect. And yes, I’m calling it like I see it.

Because we had the game that followed Jade Empire, with a M/M romance option, be Mass Effect, with NO M/M romance option (but FemShep and Liara could bang - the writing obviously favored the MaleShep portrayal, given that there was no marketing use of FemShep until ME3, and we had ME2 give priority to having loyalty conflicts between MALE Shepard’s romances, but not Female Shepard’s, and we even had BioWare hem and haw about how “well, the asari are monogender, so they’re not TECHNICALLY women, so it’s not REALLY lesbians...”). Because the official claim is that they just “didn’t think about it” in time to have these options included in Mass Effect 1. Because we’ve had writers now come out that Jacob Taylor was originally written as a gay man, but in the game itself was a straight man. Because there are plenty of women who throw themselves at Male Shepard, and Shepard is animated with having Significant Looks™ with these women, but not a single man who expresses any interest in him, until ME3 finally offers SOMETHING, which came to just Kaidan and Cortez.

Because we had one of BioWare’s heads, one of BioWare’s founders, say in an interview right around the release of Mass Effect 2 say “Shepard is too predefined a character to be gay.”

That is what I mean by homophobic bullshit.

And I haven’t even started on Mass Effect Andromeda.

And I’m gonna start on Mass Effect Andromeda now.

So after ME3, after Kaidan and Cortez were actually romances, we honestly gave them a lot of faith - they got the message, we said. They understood that they couldn’t just cut out M/M romance in the game, we said. They didn’t need to have the constant observation that demanded they provide good representation, we said.

And then they cut Jaal’s bisexuality, leaving him straight on release, without even a chance to flirt and be turned down, the bisexual male character who did remain not only was planet bound, he also is a character who a solid argument can be made that he falls into the trope of the Depraved Bisexual, a trope that over in Dragon Age, Patrick Weekes specifically said that they wanted to avoid and so didn’t make a character bisexual because of that. And the gay man is not only almost totally disconnected from the game (aside from one point in the plot, he can be avoided entirely and is not included in almost any other group setting among the Tempest crew), he is also an accessory in his own plot line, which was also heavily criticized for being intensely homophobic. And of these, the only thing BioWare deigned to change was Jaal’s bisexuality. (Which, personal note, I’m uncomfortable with personally, because as it’s implemented, it just feels kind of afterthought-y. Much like Kaidan’s in ME3, being unchanged from a new FemShep romance, despite the active inability to romance him in ME1.)

So it is not just a matter of “you have the ability, you’re changing other things, you should do this.” I mean, that is absolutely there - the mods exist for the original game, to the point of being able to even get the romance scene to fire right without Shepard’s gender magically changing once the clothes come off. (I have a vague memory of, at some point, probably around the “too predefined” comment, that being another excuse, that there was difficulty with having the models play nice with one another in that scene.)

But this is about addressing a pattern of behavior on the part of BioWare, that they have to be dragged, kicking and screaming, to the bare minimum that their own statements on matters of representation and inclusion claim they aspire to. That if the fans are not actively holding their feet to the fire, they are GOING to take their fans for granted - “you don’t get better quality content elsewhere, we’re your only choice!” But “only” choice is not a “good” choice. It’s not a choice with quality.

So if we don’t make a big damn deal about this now, when they have a chance - when they have a CHOICE - to make things better, to provide better representation, to correct the mistakes of the past... What will we get in the future? How will they backtrack on this in the future? How will they exclude us in the game they just announced a few months back? How will they continue to tell us that they don’t want gay people in this setting?

Look, I don’t use these words lightly. But that is, whether it’s a conscious attitude at all or not, what they are telling us. By not including us, by making us optionally involved, by making us disposable within our own stories, by cutting out our content, they are saying that they do not envision a world, a future, that includes queer men.

And anyone who does not speak up, does not condemn this, does not demand that they DO. BETTER... That is tacit approval and agreement. Because you’re saying that things as they are now - the removal and undermining of our content, of our EXISTENCE in these games - are perfectly fine and acceptable.

And yeah, I’m sure that reading that has probably made some people mad, believe I’m being unfair by saying that, because it’s going to push away allies. Thing is, and this is one of the things that always comes up in anything even tangentially activism related... THIS ISN’T ABOUT THE FEELINGS OF THE ALLIES. This is about listening to the people who are being hurt and saying “you don’t deserve to be hurt this way, things need to change.”

BioWare needs to change its approach. And, as we have seen, it does not come just because of a handful of angry queers, demanding to be represented in their games. It comes because of the community at large calling them out and saying “this isn’t right. What you have done is not right, and we are calling on you to fix it. To do better.”

Don’t just stand there and shrug this off. Because evidence tells us that if they aren’t called out on this now, the next game will not be better. And we will be in this exact same place, having this exact same argument, all over again, in a few years when the next Mass Effect game comes out. When the queer men are given the shortest end of the stick again, and people who are right now saying “what do you expect from a remaster?” will either suddenly turn around and go “I don’t know why BioWare would do something so homophobic” or, worse, “well, it’s something, I don’t see why you’re upset.”

We’re upset because we keep having this argument. And we are going to keep having this argument until people are willing to actually DEMAND that things be better. This is the chance to make things better now.

At this point, a post-release patch that includes a Male Shepard/Kaidan romance in ME1 that is tracked through to the following games is a bare minimum fix, a change done to make it clear that BioWare understands their mistakes in the past and want to make things BETTER.

It may not be easy, but genuinely fixing problems never is. But it’s work that needs to be done.

#dg rants #bioware critical #mass effect #mass effect critical #dg gets pissed #another angry queer rant

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thosch3i · 3 years

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The finale of Ultimate Note airs 12/9 (tonight in China) for VIP. Thank you to this drama for bringing me my favorite Iron Triangle ❤ Longer discussion of why I love it so much, and why I strongly recommend it to book fans (especially those upset with certain previous adaptations) below the cut, apologies if it’s not fully coherent at times because I haven’t slept enough and also it’s almost 1am. But your TLDR is basically: characterization, plot, pacing, relationships are the best of any DMBJ drama. Iron Triangle especially.

First, the pacing of this show is excellent. Pretty much all cdramas I’ve seen or heard of have been inundated with filler, and the previous DMBJ dramas fall victim to this as well. Ultimate Note took 36 episodes to cover 4 book arcs, whereas previous adaptations have taken more episodes to cover far fewer. There’s really not any content you’d be wanting to skip, as almost all of it is plot-relevant or character-relevant.

Second, the plot is the most cohesive out of any DMBJ adaptation. Frankly, this isn’t saying too much, given the novel plot can also be confusing as all hell sometimes, but Ultimate Note goes above and beyond in pulling in information from later books and, if I heard correctly, common fan theories, doing their best to fill in the plot holes left by the author to create a more complete story.

Third, the female characters are actually done well. (As well as they can be, given the source material’s unfortunate habit of fridging its women.) For example, A-Ning’s decision to go the Tamutuo wasn’t because she was ~in love~ with some man. She is a determined individual who has made her choice about her path a long time ago, and she is willing to risk death to achieve her goals. Even her death was done about as well as it could have been--it wasn’t drawn out to the point of it being sickeningly cheesy, and Wu Xie tried his best to honor her goals and bring her to the Palace of the Queen Mother of the West (even emphasizing to Pangzi, “if you died, I would carry you too”). In addition, Chen Wenjin wasn’t stuck in some ridiculous love triangle. She loved Wu Sanxing, of course, but her loving a man isn’t made out to be her entire personality. Her goodbye to Xie Lianhuan is poignant but not mushy. She’s steady and sure in her goals, and she knows what she has to do in order to save herself. Yuncai’s character, as well, I think was handled about as well as it could’ve been given the source material. Her relationship with Pangzi wasn’t overexaggerated and nauseating, and I think their relationship was more tolerable in the drama than it was in the novel overall. (In addition, I prefer how they handled her death in the drama versus the novel--instead of just killing her offscreen, they give her a redemption, and show how she’d grown attached to her new friends, Pangzi especially, resulting in her hesitation to deal the final blow.)

Related to the above point: no added forced romances that destroyed the female characters’ personalities and reduced them to just love interests for men, thank god. Pangzi and Yuncai’s relationship was already there in the novel, but nothing about their relationship was distorted in the drama to the point of being annoying, and Yuncai is shown to have her own goals for cozying up to Pangzi (at first, at least). If you want to get technical about “added romances”, you could honestly argue that it’s Pingxie. (And Hei///hua, but I’ll be honest and say they’re not my cup of tea, so I won’t really be discussing them. However, I do think their characters, while also exaggerated for humor at points, were also done well, and their relationship--while AFAIK was not a really a thing in the books at all?--was written in a way that the development made sense, and their personalities compatible.)

But anyway, while Ultimate Note does make Pingxie seem closer to each other than they were in the novel, we do have to remember that the novel is from Wu Xie’s point of view, and he’s a little bit of a blockhead when it comes to noticing how much Xiaoge cares about him. (IIRC, he wonders if Xiaoge even considers him a friend in Zang Hai Hua...after Xiaoge’s literally called him his “only connection” to this world in book 8.) However, from an outsider POV, it’d be natural for us to see Xiaoge worrying more over Wu Xie. Because from Wu Xie’s perspective, what did he actually see? Xiaoge dropping in to save him a few times and often vanishing or turning away right after, leaving Wu Xie with mixed feelings and confusion about his value to Xiaoge. Xiaoge being aloof before they set off to Tamutuo, claiming that he is a person with no past and future, and that no one would remember him if he disappeared. (Xiaoge smiles before telling Wu Xie that he’s on Wu Xie’s side--that’s a smile that the viewers see, but that Wu Xie doesn’t.) Most of Xiaoge’s visible worry for Wu Xie in the desert was also when Wu Xie himself was not there to see it. During the scene where the fungus was growing in Wu Xie’s stomach, he was entirely out of it while Xiaoge visibly panicked about hurting him, and after the fungus was dealt with, Xiaoge only stood off to the side--only to smile faintly to himself, relieved, after Wu Xie wakes up. (Again a smile that the viewers see, but that Wu Xie doesn’t.) But because from an outsider POV we can see all this, while Wu Xie remains partly ignorant, lines like “thankfully, I didn’t bring death upon you” and Xiaoge calling Wu Xie is only connection to the world seem that much more logical, now that we can see some of the depth and development of how much Xiaoge does care about Wu Xie.

That brings me to the primary reason why I love Ultimate Note, because the main selling point for me on any franchise is not actually world-building or plot, but rather the characters and the relationships between those characters. And for DMBJ, the relationship I’m always looking for--and the relationship that the entire franchise ultimately centers around--is the Iron Triangle. And the mutual trust and the strength of the bond between this Iron Triangle is unmistakable; no one is treated as expendable.

As much as we have joked about Xiaoge's double standards with Wu Xie versus Pangzi, the end of the Banai arc especially and the last five episodes have cemented the importance of Xiaoge and Pangzi's friendship. Their relationship is often the weakest leg of the Iron Triangle in DMBJ adaptations, but Ultimate Note has nailed it. Pangzi helps carry Xiaoge out of Tamutuo, and Pangzi's the one who primarily takes care of Xiaoge after he loses his memories. There's also Xiaoge's clear worry over Pangzi after Yuncai's death, and his assurance that Pangzi won't die as long as he is here in the later episodes when the two of them are separated from Wu Xie--showing that the Iron Triangle is a triangle; Wu Xie isn't the single connection that Xiaoge and Pangzi's relationship hinges upon.

Pangzi and Wu Xie's friendship doesn't need much explaining: the two of them bicker like they're brothers, and they could probably star in their own buddy-cop comedy together. Both Pangzi and Xiaoge are shown to be clearly worried for Wu Xie after the Xie Lianhuan reveal, and even though neither of them quite know how to handle it, they are there for Wu Xie. And of course, there's the scene where Pangzi pours out the water while they're waiting for Xiaoge to leave the meteorite. Wu Xie cries for Pangzi when they're in the Miluotuo cave and he chooses to carry out Xiaoge first, and once again, his worry for Pangzi after Yuncai's death is palpable. Even when Wu Xie has to leave Pangzi in Banai, he instructs Xiaoge to look after him (not that Xiaoge really needed the instruction, anyway--that’s his best friend, too).

Wu Xie and Xiaoge's relationship needs even less explaining: anyone who's watched the show can attest to how much they care about each other. From Wu Xie's frantic scrambling to grab the tapes upon hearing they were from "Zhang Qiling" and Xiaoge's introduction in the show being him stopping outside Wushanju to stare up (longingly?) at the sign, we see their relationship unfold in all of its quiet pining and lingering looks. When Xiaoge claims no one would know if he disappeared from this world, Wu Xie doesn't hesitate in promising that he, at least, will. Xiaoge smiles before telling Wu Xie that he's on his side, and Wu Xie vows to walk with Xiaoge until the very end. During the entire Tamutuo trip, Xiaoge is visibly worried for Wu Xie--when the parasitic fungus grew in his stomach, that worry was the most clear. But Wu Xie worries for Xiaoge too: insisting on going to save Xiaoge from the snakes that night when they all went blind; swearing that even if he faces death, he would wait for Xiaoge to leave the meteorite; telling Xiaoge that he will take him home. (Related: the soft, almost vulnerable way Xiaoge tells Wu Xie “take me home” in episode 31.) Not to mention--even when Xiaoge loses his memories, he still remembers Wu Xie. (And Pangzi smiles knowingly right after that scene.)

There are too many character/relationship moments I could write about, but one that stuck out in particular was when they were facing the spiders, and Wu Xie stopped Xiaoge from cutting his hand and using his blood to make the spiders retreat. At this point, Wu Xie and Pangzi don't know the extent of how Xiaoge was (mis)treated as a child (and used as a blood bag, apparently), but they know about how "A-Kun" was captured used as bait. Wu Xie and Pangzi would never ask Xiaoge to bleed for them, no matter what. Not now, let alone 10+ years later. (I won't name names, but if you know what I'm talking about, then you know.)

Which brings me to my main point: the characters in Ultimate Note are the closest to their novel selves I have ever seen in a DMBJ adaptation, and this is objectively the best adaptation of the DMBJ novel. (Whether you prefer another adaption or not is your opinion--I absolutely love the Time Raiders movie, even though that plot is literally all over the place, and Xiaoge is decently OOC--but Ultimate Note is the best adaptation of the novel, and the characters are the most true to what they actually should be.)

You can see the innocent and naïve Wu Xie, but you can also see the developing confusion, frustration, and anger he feels because he's been lead around by his nose his entire life. And he is angry in the novel; he is a bit of a hot-headed bastard; he's not just a naïve child. I remember seeing some complaints that Wu Xie felt "OOC" in the first episode for being so furious with his San-shu, but I think his reactions were spot-on with how he felt, and how he wanted to react. A similar point is the scene where Wu Xie slammed Xiaoge against the car--aside from just being some fun fanservice, in the novel Wu Xie really was furious at Xiaoge for vanishing on him and never contacting him after leaving the Heavenly Palace in the Clouds. A lot of the novel is Wu Xie's inner thoughts, which are difficult to portray in a live action adaptation, but he really did pretty much want to pick a fight with Xiaoge about disappearing, and Ultimate Note decided on how to express this frustration in a way that suits a drama adaptation. In addition, you can see how Wu Xie’s past experiences like the trip to Tamutuo has changed him in how he manipulates Panma into bringing him to the lake; and you can see how almost losing Xiaoge and Pangzi to the Miluotuo changed him as well, when he thinks he’s lost them for real in episode 36 (leading up to his decision to put on his San-shu’s mask by the end, despite the fact that “some masks, when worn too long, can no longer be taken off”).

As for Pangzi: even though he has scenes that were clearly exaggerated for comic relief, he has plenty of moments that build his character and the Iron Triangle’s bond. These include him pouring out the water while he and Wu Xie are waiting for Xiaoge, his grief over Yuncai’s death, his standing by Wu Xie during the hotel auction scene, and his almost mother-hen-like worry about Xiaoge while they’re entering the Zhang Family Mansion in the last five episodes. Not to mention, he’s really quite a smart and perceptive character, despite his goofiness: he sees through Xiaoge’s worry about Wu Xie, and he knows when to step in and liven the atmosphere (see: Wu Xie being all awkward about his gift to Xiaoge in episode 31, and Pangzi being there practically just for emotional support). Also in episode 31: Pangzi telling Xiaoge that he’s getting more and more humane (the implications about Wu Xie here are pretty obvious). All in all, Pangzi is a funny person; he is often comic relief, but he’s also a steadfastly loyal friend and someone who loves deeply and without regret. Initially we saw more of his humor, but we definitely got the depths to his character by the end of Ultimate Note.

Finally Xiaoge, who I’m discussing last because he’s my favorite character: for once, I can see the humanity behind the title “Zhang Qiling”, and in a way that isn’t OOC. Xiaoge isn’t treated as a free source of bug-repelling blood; he isn’t treated as some overpowered, untouchable idol; he isn’t treated as a rescue machine for whenever another character needs it. He is a human, not a god. For the rest, I think his actor’s words speak for themselves. (And now I really don’t trust anyone else except him with Xiaoge's character.)

Ultimate Note succeeded in capturing the nuances of its main characters: Wu Xie’s loss of his “tianzhen” and slow maturation to the man he will eventually become by Sha Hai; Pangzi’s outwardly humorous pseudo-caricature but inwardly deeply loyal and loving spirit; Xiaoge’s vulnerabilities, painful humanity, and the “heart” given to him by his mother, hidden beneath a seemingly impenetrable armor. This is an Iron Triangle that feels like the Iron Triangle, without needing say so much in words. This is an Iron Triangle with mutual respect and a friendship I can see and believe in.

In conclusion: Ultimate Note does the story justice; it does the characters justice; it does the relationships justice; and it did all this with a low budget and almost no promotion. You can tell the crew definitely cares about the source material.

My only complaint is that they couldn’t film the finale.

Rambling over! All my love to the Ultimate Note cast and crew <3

#dmbj #zjbj #ultimate note #pingxie #iron triangle #盗墓笔记 #终极笔记 #瓶邪 #the lost tomb 3 #shouting into the void #i was supposed to be writing my essay for grad school LMAO #got 2.5k words of whatever the hell this is instead #basically iron triangle superior is what im saying #this is the longer and slightly more grammatical version of what i posted on twitter a couple days ago #FUCK I FORGOT TO TALK ABOUT PAN ZI #you know what its 1am im not editing this now lol

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greenbriar-j · 3 years

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Muscle Memory, full wip, unedited 4.7k, scroll at ur own risk; tagging some people who showed previous interest @halleiswriting @chazzawrites @pe-ersona @druidx and also @pens-swords-stuff this is what I’ve been up to lately

Saint Joseph’s Catholic Church bustles with activity. It’s peculiar, for it being a weekday. More peculiar still that the bustling is being done by young men and women who could very well be engaging in… more satisfying summer indulgences.

The Youth Group’s power couple sweeps in an hour late, ever put together even when, by all rights, they ought to be melting right out of their fancy outfits. Cheers rise from the crowd when they appear, each splitting off in their own directions to their own stations.

Y Nhi beelines for the painters, flicking her sleek ponytail to make sure it’s out of the way. The girls hand her a brush while detailing what’s left to be done. Vinny bustles for the sound technicians - who, really, are already done for the day, but are staying for the social factor.

Two things to note about St. Joseph’s power couple:

Y Nhi isn’t sure she believes in God very much anymore.

They are not a couple, but it’s easier to let everyone think so than to correct it.

“Jude,” Mary says (everyone calls her Jude because she and Vinny made a big deal of it years ago), “Are you sure you can’t help out during the week?”

Y Nhi shrugs. She’s not busy or anything, but it feels wrong to shepherd children into a religion she’s falling out of - even if Vacation Bible School had been one of her favorite summer memories for her entire life. That’s where she met Vinny, after all.

Vinny, laughing with the guys at the sound booth. To be more accurate, Vinny himself is only smirking, but that’s as close to a laugh as he gets around here. Stupid smirk. Stupid boy.

“I have work. Unfortunately,” Y Nhi mutters, dragging her brush across a cardboard cutout. “Vinny’s taking the week off, so I’m picking up his slack.”

Mary grins widely at that. “I swear it’s like you’re married.”

For whatever reason, Y Nhi’s heart clenches at that. Picturing herself and Vinny in wedding attire on the altar sickens her, but putting a faceless someone in her place makes her feel worse. But it’s not like she likes him. She’s sworn to herself that she’d become a cat lady in her old age - her army has already begun with a fluffy black kitten. It’s not looking too good for her future; Toothless likes Vinny more than her. She’s already failed as a parent.

Belatedly, Y Nhi realizes she’s supposed to be engaging in a conversation, not thinking about Vinny and their co-parenting of a cat. If it can be called that.

“Don’t hold your breath. The wedding is a long way off,” she says tightly. Like. Never. Never is a long, long way off.

“I wouldn’t be too sure.”

This time, Y Nhi lets the comment slide. She paints while singing under her breath, as she always does. A long time ago, she had no qualms about belting it out, but time has weathered away her volume, reducing it to only this. No one’s noticed the change or found it strange.

The conversation turns to something - anything - else. Degrees, internships, other boys who don’t dress in all black and aren’t named Vincent Truong. Y Nhi listens, but doesn’t contribute.

By the time the call goes out for a lunch break, Y Nhi is finishing three tasks at once. One of the other girls brings her a burger, slathered with ketchup and mayo and tomatoes. Y Nhi thanks her and continues wrapping one of the white pillars in cardboard paper to simulate a palm tree.

Not long after, someone nudges her. Eyes flickering upward, she’s met with the bored eyes of her very best friend. “Bite.”

She doesn’t, not yet.

Vinny wiggles the burger he’s holding in front of her mouth. “Only half a slice of cheese. No tomatoes. Freshest patty of the batch. Eat.”

She still doesn’t take the bait, even though he’s tailored this burger to her weirdly specific tastes.

Vinny sighs. “Jude. No one’s watching you. I promise all they can see is my back.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” It’s true she had a complex about eating in public for a while, for reasons she’s never told anyone including him. “Just not hungry.”

“Not very Gucci of you to lie in the house of God.”

“Not very Gucci of you to breathe.”

“Jude! The fuck, man.” But he’s grinning. Not the half-assed grin he gives everyone else, but an honest, mirthful grin reserved for Toothless and Y Nhi only (usually Toothless. Damn cat).“Just eat this, okay? I’ll eat the other one.” His whole demeanor softens as he picks up the burger she had ignored - the one that is surely cold by now.

She is hungry. After all, the reason they were late is because Vinny had to coax her to every step of getting ready this morning. He even applied her eyeliner with the even strokes of a practiced hand - so practiced that even Y Nhi admits it looks like her own work. If she had a choice, she would waste away in bed for the day, but Vinny has never been much of a fan of that plan.

According to her own plan, Y Nhi had been wasting away since before yesterday’s dinner. Famished might be a better word to describe her present state.

But today is one of those days that she feels guilty cementing the married couple narrative any more than it needs to be. They’re not getting any younger, Vinny and Y Nhi, and just because she’s sworn off marriage doesn’t mean he has. How’s he supposed to get a nice girlfriend if she keeps hanging around?

Objectively, it’s a stupid reason to risk passing out in a church of all places, but something about him just makes her stupid. Always has.

The longer she ignores his peace offering, the twitcher he gets. He finishes his own burger in ten massive bites. When Y Nhi still doesn’t eat hers, he eats that whole thing too. “We’re leaving early. Say an hour? Think about what you want to eat.”

With that, he’s gone. Y Nhi is not hyper aware of his presence as it moves through the open space. She does not miss having him next to her. Not even a little.

Y Nhi writes, appetite??? in her journal when she gets home. It’s the third time something of this nature has appeared on its list which isn’t titled - but if it was it would be something like “Things About Vinny T. that Don’t Make Sense.”

Even after inhaling two burgers, he took her out for pho and Thai tea, and he ate so slow that his noodles expanded in the broth. Still, he finished a medium bowl with relative ease, and Y Nhi was content after she’d finished a small.

How does someone who eats like that look like that? It has to be some sort of stupid freaky metabolism. Genetic polymorphism, she thinks, then adds that she might be incorrectly using the term she’d heard in class about two semesters ago.

She writes freeloading on the list. It’s not technically true, but he spends enough time at her place to make it feel like it. Right this minute, he’s setting up the living room to sleep in, awaiting her delivery of the overnight bag he always leaves stocked in her apartment for emergencies.

That goes on the list too. Definition of ‘emergency.’

According to recent months, an alarming amount of things fit under this category of Vinny’s mind. It might be nearing time to stage an intervention, but who’s Y Nhi to tell him to relax when she’s the one bordering on anxiety attacks all the time? Only god knows how many times he’s clutched her shaking hands until they stopped.

Y Nhi closes the journal. Snaps the band over the cover. Shoves it under her pillow. Vinny wouldn’t dare read it to begin with, but for some reason, she doesn’t even want him to know of its existence.

Quickly divesting herself of the impeccable outfit she’d worn for the day, she slips easily into one of Vinny’s large, large shirts and the shorts she affectionately calls game day shorts. Ever since high school, she’s worn them for events that require equal amounts of comfort and courage - or just for comfort, to be honest.

“Hey, loser,” she greets Vinny, emerging from her room. He’s got her guitar in hand, and is humming some tune that she recognizes but can’t place. “Your stuff is on my bed. Have you seen Toothless?”

He nods, and keeps playing. It’s in experience, being stared at with such intense eyes while trying not to stare at the other party’s stupid pretty hands playing her guitar. Fuck him, honestly, she thinks angrily.

Leaving him there, she pours each of them a glass of water in the kitchen. A shadow looms on top of the fridge, and she jumps. “Toothless, baby. Please stop napping on the fridge.”

Toothless is not napping. He stands up, shakes his tiny body and hops to the counter, then to the floor, twining around Y Nhi’s feet before scuttling off.

Vinny is singing now. It’s a new song, she supposes, and it sounds like a love song.

Slowly, Y Nhi moves around the kitchen, making as little noise as possible while doing absolutely nothing. She just wants to listen to Vinny and his new love song without him watching her reaction.

Once she gets past the lyrics about gentle touches and midnight escapades, she realizes something. Re-entering the living room, she deposits his water on the table. “Is that my melody? Why would you steal it?”

The guitar is placed awkwardly on the floor, the neck of it leaning on the couch. “Oh, is that where it’s from? Thought it was familiar,” he says with mild disinterest. “Well, I wasn’t that attached to it anyway.”

“Are you saying it sucks?” Y Nhi settles on the floor on the other side of the table, pulling her knees into her chest. Glancing through her lashes, Y Nhi watches Vinny’s expressions.

“I’m saying I’m not taking your work, you brat.” Then he hesitates. “I mean. Can I, just for one person?”

“What the fuck.”

Vinny twitches, finally. “I… Wrote the song for someone… So I’d like to sing it for her, just once.”

Something vile rises in her throat, and she wishes Toothless would notice her distress. Hugging the cat might make her feel a little better about the fact that Vinny’s written a song about a girl using her melody - and it’s not about herself and for some odd reason, that bothers her.

“Can- Can I hear it?” Y Nhi asks in a tiny voice. It’s easier than No, you cannot take my song to sing to some other girl who will take you away from me.

“Haven’t you been hearing it?”

“Vincent.” Because that’s easier than You colossal idiot, what shit are you pulling after two years?

“Jude-”

She stands suddenly, fleeing to her room. Shutting the door, locking it, she tries to breathe. Of all people, Vinny should be the last person to push her to this reaction. She doesn’t know what to think.

Vinny knows.

Vinny knows where her hard limits are. Technically, he hasn’t passed them. But he’s pretty damn close.

Y Nhi slips into the shower, leaving it on the hottest setting to boil the emotions out.

For the next two days, Y Nhi doesn’t emerge from her room. Her phone dies, and she lets it. Her body self-destructs in hunger and dehydration from crying, and she lets it. She stays in bed for most of it. Whether Vinny continues to sleep on the other side of the wall for those nights, she doesn’t know. Nor care.

It’s punishment for believing she might be ready to give love another chance.

The third day, a letter slips under her door.

She almost flushes it down the toilet without reading it. Everything is in position to do so, paper fluttering in unsteady hands above the toilet bowl. But she wants to know. What can Vinny possibly say for himself?

Jude. I wrote the song for you. I didn’t mean to steal your tune - honest to god, I didn’t. But when I found out, I thought it was fitting that we’d worked on it together. (“Together”)

Jude, the song is up to your interpretation, but it’s yours. I wrote it from my core, and it’s yours. Charge your fucking phone and check the lyrics I sent you.

Take a shower, and call me when you’re ready. You have a few days’ worth of takeout in the fridge. Please take care of your health; I know you’re not right now. I mean it in the best way.

It cuts off there. Unceremonious and blunt, and so very him. She hates it very much.

Y Nhi charges her phone while she showers. Working quickly because she’s so unsteady on her feet, she does the bare minimum before stumbling into the kitchen for food.

While she nibbles on the stir fried noodles he left, she pens her own note.

Vinny,

I will not read the lyrics. I don’t want to know, and you don’t have to pretend it’s about me.

Your joke took two years to reach completion. Congratulations. I hope I was amusing and that my downfall wall be the stunning conclusion you wanted.

She tapes it on her front door so he’ll see it the next time he comes over. Soon, probably.

Momentarily, she wonders if she’s being rash. Is it so impossible to think that he could find romantic attraction to her?

Then she remembers. Y Nhi is not built to be loved, if her history is anything to go by. Even if she’s wrong, even if Vinny loves her for real, she will resist. Losing him this way is better than the alternative: watching him dissolve to some monstrosity while loving her.

Nothing changes after that. Apart from Vinny’s absence from her apartment, they interact in exactly the same way.

Vinny says something borderline rude.

Y Nhi retorts with something blatantly rude.

They laugh about it and move along.

There are no gentle touches to avoid because Vinny rarely touched her to begin with - despite the way he slings his arm around everyone else, he wasn’t like that with her. No arm around her shoulder, no hugs, not even extended contact with her hair.

Y Nhi pretends not to notice when he goes through a full dinner with an arm draped over the back of his friend Justin’s chair. He leans on it, adding the tiniest space between himself and Y Nhi. He still passes her the condiments and spices she likes before she asks for them. He takes her home at the end of it.

This should be enough. Up until now, it always had been. These tiny acts were his long distance hugs. It had always been enough, but now it isn’t, and Y Nhi doesn’t know what to do.

Isn’t this what you wanted? For him to get a life away from you?

“How’s that girl?” She asks on the way home, just because the silence is killing her and perhaps because she’s a masochist. “The one you wrote the song for?”

Vinny looks at her for a brief moment, something like grief in his eyes. It’s a confusing expression. “She hasn’t really talked to me since.”

Y Nhi tries not to sit straighter at this revelation. “Oh, really? Hm. That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

Something about the word is profoundly heartbroken. She can almost feel the emotions hurtling off him in waves, but he doesn’t lash out at her. All it does is enclose each passenger of the car in a separate bubble. This is the closest they’ve been in a long time, but Y Nhi has never felt so isolated.

Her throat constricts, and her hands start to shake. “Do you… Know why?”

Vinny thinks for a moment, tapping his fingers on the wheel. “I think she doesn’t believe me. But I don’t really think it’s me, I think she thinks that love is meant for everyone except herself. She’s pretty bent on self-destruction now, as far as I can tell - No, don’t say anything yet.”

Every girl Vinny’s talked to in the last week pops up in her mind. Which of them seems most self-destructive? If she can’t keep herself by his side, he should at least have someone who can care for him. She could talk to them, probably, if she knew who it was.

“I… She thinks this is sudden, but I’ve been in love with her since I was fifteen. Or something. Like it kind of just happened over time, and I thought she knew.”

Fifteen means Vinny’s been futilely in love with someone else while she fell for the guy who ended up cheating on her.

They were happy in high school. It was college that broke them. Distance. The communications became less frequent in an inverse relationship to Y Nhi’s alcohol intake. Her grades suffered, and she convinced herself that she was too stupid for higher education. On his birthday, she drove for hours to his dorm to surprise him, only to find him making out with another girl. Sober.

Not that any level of inebriation could excuse him, but perhaps it would’ve hurt a little less.

Vinny isn’t done. “I fucking cut fruit for her every time we hung out. I did her dishes sometimes. I don’t know, I- I thought I did everything right. My mom thought I was doing everything right.”

“You tell your mom about your love life?”

Y Nhi doesn’t. Her parents don’t care enough to know anything about it beyond that she let go of a future doctor and that she’ll never find another because she’s past her prime. That’s what it feels like, anyway.

She’s literally twenty four. She has time.

“Not really. But they’ve met.” Vinny parks the car in front of her apartment, but he makes no move to get out or to let Y Nhi get out. “Jude, listen to me.”

“I’m listening,” she says. Training her eyes on her kitchen window, she thinks about the dishes she hasn’t done yet, the fruit she hasn’t cut yet, and how she hates thinking about it because it reminds her Vinny is fading.

Human adaptability is a remarkable thing. One more week, and this new normalcy will cement itself.

“The girl I love is you. Okay? I’ve walked around the topic for years, and I understand if you’re still not ready for it. But I know you’re getting the wrong idea in that head of yours. It’s you, and it’s always been you, and I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it if you let me. I’ll also bow out forever if that’s what you need from me. But I need you to talk to me. I-”

Holy shit, is he about to cry? With wild eyes, she glances at him. If she’s made him cry, he’ll return the favor five-fold. No, she backtracks. That’s not Vinny. That’s the behavior of her second ex, the one that reduced her to a stiff puppet of a girl.

“Come back to me,” he says in a small, strangled voice. “I don’t even care if you break me in the process, but please come back to me. You can do whatever you want, as long as you do it by my side.”

For the longest moment, they say nothing. Then Y Nhi opens the car door. “Can you cut my strawberries for me? They taste better when you cut them.”

Vinny washes her dishes and her strawberries and quarters the already small fruit for her. He deposits the snacks in front of her and watches her eat - slowly, since they’ve just come back from dinner, after all.

“So it’s me?”

“Always has been.”

“And you never said anything.”

“I did. You ignored it on purpose.”

“No, I’m just a stupid hoe.”

“You’re not stupid. Or a hoe.”

“You’re always calling me stupid.”

“Not like that, stupid.”

“You’re going to have to undo a lot of damage if we date.”

“I know. I’ve been working on it already, didn’t you notice?”

“Yeah, but it’s gonna get worse if we date.”

“Have you considered therapy?”

“Vinny, I’ll be a pariah.”

“A happy one, maybe.” Hesitantly, he reaches for one of her hands. Halfway, he flips the palm up and waits for her to complete the gesture on her own. “You don’t have to decide right away. It’s just a thought.”

She puts her hand in his a little too eagerly, then pulls back a little too harshly. It feels like touching the flame of a candle.

A defeated look momentarily crosses Vinny’s eyes, but Y Nhi barely has the time to look at it before she steels her nerves and takes hold of his hand again. The coldness of his rings grounds her somehow. “We need a list,” Y Nhi says, “of things. First, you’re going to Google touch starvation.”

Her best friend jerks in a little victorious motion, jamming his knee unceremoniously on the table leg as he does. “Fuck, that hurt.”

“What was that about?”

“I wasn’t sure if you were actually touch starved or if you didn’t like men touching you.”

“And you didn’t ask?” Y Nhi is incredulous.

“How am I supposed to ask? ‘Jude, when I touch you, does it remind you of your sleazy ex boyfriends?’ You’d say no. Like a liar. Or so I thought.” He pauses. “Anyway, this means I can hug you now, right? 24/7.”

“If you ease into it.”

“And you’ll stop wearing those gigantic shirts that literally drown you.”

“...No. What?”

“Okay, never mind, nothing. What else? What other boundaries do we have?”

Of all questions she’s been asked today, this one is probably the most confusing. Her previous relationships are no help; she hasn’t exactly had the best exposure to “healthy relationships.” She’s aware that the bare minimum counts as decadence for her, so the question has her a little frozen.

After watching her face flicker through whatever emotions it’s displaying, Vinny rubs a thumb over her knuckles. “How about this: I have a specific thing I want your help with, and when things come up, we can talk about it.”

Y Nhi nods, though they both know she won’t talk about shit. But perhaps watching Vinny sort out whatever issue he needs sorted will give her inspiration on how to approach this. “Can we-?” She starts and stops abruptly.

Vinny blinks, then feeds her a strawberry slice. “Go ahead.” It’s a tactful move. Putting food in her mouth means she has to chew, meaning she has a few more seconds to gather herself and her thoughts, or at the very least, the desire to continue speaking.

“Can we not label this?” She finishes. “Whatever is between us.”

To her surprise, Vinny nods and acts like she hasn’t asked the bitchiest question of the night. “Sure.” You can do whatever you want, he’d said, as long as you do it by my side.

“And… Get rid of Jude.”

“What?”

“Jude. You remember why I picked that name?”

“Because of some fictional fairy queen that had the same name? You thought she was a conniving boss ass bitch and-”

“Shut up. Saint Jude. Patron saint of?”

Technically speaking, he hasn’t been wrong about the fairy queen bit. Unlike the suckers who fell for Cardan Greenbriar, Y Nhi’s wimpy ass was all in for Jude Duarte, mortal queen of the fae. And it was easier to admit that than to admit the truth that was dawning on Vinny’s face in 3… 2...

“Hopeless causes,” Vinny answers easily. Then his expression sobers. “Oh.”

Y Nhi nods. “But the me with you isn’t a hopeless cause. I don’t want her to be, anyway.”

There’s a lot that goes unsaid, but she’s certain Vinny hears it. Logically, she can’t keep relying on whatever instinct says, He’ll understand because he’s Vinny, but up to this point, it should work out okay.

Gently, he says, “Y Nhi,” reacquainting himself with the syllables of her given name. “Y Nhi.”

“Yes, Vinny?” She says just as gently.

He lowers his voice to a husky whisper, “You’ve never been a hopeless cause. You were a cause for hope.”

Vinny’s request is this: that Y Nhi teach him to be soft again.

The request makes her question if she and Vinny exist in the same dimension because who the hell convinced him he wasn’t soft? Hardened, prickly souls don’t master winged eyeliner for the sake of their loved ones. They don’t volunteer extra hours at Vacation Bible School while working graveyard shifts at the hospital. Don’t do the dishes because as much as they hate them, their roommate hates them more.

Vinny is soft, and Y Nhi is out for blood. “I need names, Vincent. And addresses if you have them.”

“My ex,” he says.

An awkward sound emerges from Y Nhi’s throat.

He raises an eyebrow at her. “What? I dated around. Didn’t think I should be hung up on you, but nothing ever went as planned. Anyway, my one ex did a really good job making me become someone I wasn’t. I didn’t like the person she made me, but it was kind of too late to turn around.”

Again, Y Nhi is confused. The narrative is promising, though, so she lets him continue in hopes that it’ll clear something up.

“If you don’t know me, how would you describe me?”

“Vinny.” She doesn’t have an answer, she just doesn’t want to say it. It’s not all good, and they just came back from an awkward fight. Was it a fight?

They’ve slipped back into their normal existence so easily. Nothing has changed, but at the same time, everything has.

“Just- The rings and the black and the tattoos. You’d think I drove a motorcycle or something, right?”

“You drive a Lexus. It’s the same in terms of your fuck boy vibes.”

“Y Nhi!”

“BMW would’ve sealed the deal. How many Hennessys do you drink a night, again?”

A pout settles on his face. She likes this version of him. “I see you get my point. I look like a baddie.”

“Yeah. Bad at life.”

“I swear to god.”

“Don’t do that, that’s a sin. Don’t use the lord’s name in vain and all.”

“Anyway. You of all people know I am soft, actually. She didn’t like that. And so I gained a second personality and-”

It’s rude, the way Y Nhi interrupts, but Vinny doesn’t seem to mind at all. “So if you’re always soft, what’s left for me to help you with?”

“You’ll see,” he says. “Actually. No, I’m going to tell you. I get embarrassed about my relationships. So if it ever looks like I’m pushing you away… I’m just really fucking embarrassed, at least for this first stage. Do what you will with that.”

- bonus/epilogue -

They return home for Y Nhi’s mom’s birthday. They’ve always rode home together, since they are neighbors no matter where they are. No one finds it odd that they hold hands more than before, that Y Nhi is still averse to touching everyone but him.

They appear at social events hanging on each other’s arms. Commentary about their status as a “married couple” breeze over their heads, but they never confirm nor deny anything. In public, they remain aloof to each other. They show tenderness in only the smallest of gestures.

In private, they are as they ever were. Vinny still does her eyeliner on her bad days, but now she cuddles him on the couch on his bad days. Between the two of them, there are a lot of bad days, days when they almost threw in the towel.

But they didn’t. Instead, they’ve introduced all manner of pet names (Vinny’s favorites to use are love, darling, and lately, em. Y Nhi’s favorites are Vinny and anh). They write songs to each other, for each other, with each other. Every morning, they make the choice to keep loving each other the way they have since they were fifteen - and while they joke that they wasted so much time, it was a necessary time for them to spend apart to learn how to exist together and how to choose each other even when it’s the harder choice than letting go.

Even I get lonely too

It’s not hard

Every question’s got an answer

And mine is you

Where you go then I will follow

All my life

You’re the name that I will whisper to the night

#musclememory.wip #it turned out differently than planned #but I hope you enjoy it!

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rockinlibrarian · 3 years

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Fic Writer Review

@pixiedane tagged everyone on this, and considering I've been wallowing in my sudden Being Into Fanfic lately (though to be honest I've been READING a lot lately more than writing), see this link, I figured I'd take her up on the challenge. You, too, may take ME up on the challenge if YOU have been writing fic!

how many works do you have on AO3? 19. That's much less than @pixiedane! I'm a baby fic writer!

what’s your total AO3 word count? 66,239

how many fandoms have you written for and what are they? There are technically seven listed, but "Marvel Cinematic Universe," "The Avengers (Marvel Movies)," "Captain America (Movies)," and "Agent Carter (TV)" all apply to the same fic, so really just 4. But that doesn't count fandoms I've written but not completed (and therefore posted) for. So there are more to come. Maybe. Sometime.

what are your top 5 fics by kudos? *

"On the End of Endgame," 51 kudos, because I'm right and Marvel doesn't understand their own time travel rules and 51 people KNOW it!

"The Puppy-Fly Effect," 39 kudos, because it's Back to the Future, the most mainstream property I've written for! So people see it and say, "oh, I've actually seen that one" and they're more likely to read it!

"The Invitation: an Epilogue," 22 kudos, which is pretty good since this is my newest fic on there. It's a Howl's Moving Castle (BOOK, PLEASE, OBVIOUSLY) epilogue, so considering it's not a RECENT thing it just keeps getting slow and steady readership. I myself have been reading a lot of Howl fic lately, and people are getting comments on their decade-old stories from me now, so I imagine this one also will slow and steadily keep accumulating hits and kudos.

"Kerry and the Meaning of Life," 20 kudos. I'm honestly not sure why this is, by far, my most kudoed Legion FX fic. It's the first one I ever wrote, and got me started on the whole writing-the-entire-Loudermilk-coming-of-age rabbit hole I fell into to begin with, but I've only improved over time, I think, but even after I'd posted other Loudermilk backstory I think is objectively better, this one still gets the most!

"Syd's (Third) Childhood Begins," 15 kudos, because when people finish watching Legion FX the NATURAL move is to seek out fix-it fic. I wouldn't say this is fix-it really as much as ensure-the-ending-is-actually-happy-it, but I did use the "fix-it" tag, and at least one of the commenters DID say they immediately came on AO3 "looking for pretty much exactly this"...

do you respond to comments, why or why not? Absolutely, because I know what it feels like NOT to get comments, and also what it feels like to-- I don't know, I just get paranoid, if people don't respond to me, I think stuff like "Did I say something wrong? Do they not care about my opinion? Am I invisible?" so I'm Do Unto Others-y about it, even if all I can think of to say is "Thank you!"

what’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? Well, I haven't actually posted (read: finished) the ending yet, but it's definitely "Exploration of the Astral Plane," because that's just Legion FX canon. No spoilers, Oliver Bird starts out the show having gotten lost decades ago, and this is the story of HOW he got lost, and his friends didn't KNOW if they'd ever see him again, so the paragraphs I've written of the end do make me quite teary! The fic's really fun despite the canonically sad ending, though, honest!

do you write crossovers? if so what is the craziest one you’ve written? I have not written one YET, if I recall, unless you count the several mildly interconnected IPs involved in the Pipeweed Mafia Stories, which isn't even posted because I feel uncomfortable posting Real People fic online, but crossovers are fun and I really enjoy reading them, especially when the writer successfully blends things together while being true to the characters. Just today I read a hilarious one blending The Good Place and Harry Potter!

have you ever received hate on a fic? Gosh, this is such an ironic question. I wouldn't say that I WISH I received hate on a fic, but my fics aren't even NOTICED enough to receive hate! I already feel paranoid-- Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, you know how it is-- when I don't receive LIKE on a fic! It's LIKE receiving hate for me, because my brain goes into "Does nobody like it? Does nobody care? Are they all too nice to say it's terrible?" mode, so, yeah.

do you write smut? if so what kind? Absolutely not. My demisexual self hates reading it, definitely not writing it. I struggled enough writing just a taste of what a horny, slutty teenager who-talks-too-much Oliver Bird would have been in this AU, and that's mild!

have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I'm aware of. That would really suck, wouldn't it, if someone stole my work and ended up getting MORE LIKES AND COMMENTS THAN ME on it.

have you ever had a fic translated? Also not that I'm aware of, and if I'm not aware of it but it happened I guess that would answer the "stolen" question, too.

have you ever co-written a fic before? Ever in my entire life, I feel like I must have, but not anything I've posted online then

what’s your all time favorite ship? Hmm. Honestly, there are ships I defend passionately if the topic comes up, but I'm not sure I have a favorite just on my own. Especially as I hate smut, so I avoid seeking out specifically shipping stories. But, since I have been reading a lot of HMC fic lately, I should mention that Howl and Sophie ARE one of my absolute favorite fictional couples, but that's just how DWJ wrote them, and I can tell you unfortunately that not all fanfic writers QUITE nail that chemistry...

what’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? Speaking of The Good Place, I really do wish I could write the novelization, and maybe I'd write some pieces of it longer than the few paragraphs I have written? But I doubt I ever will, let alone to the point of FINISHING...

what are your writing strengths? Fanfic wise, I like to THINK I understand the characters very well, at least! Writing in general? I think it's just my quirky voice? I'm the only me.

what are your writing weaknesses? Oh, very much FINISHING. But beyond that, it's pulling teeth to get me to fill out the story sometimes. I tend to draft with dialogue, and then I have to go back and fill in what's actually happening AROUND the dialogue, and sometimes I'd rather not.

what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? At first I was like, I don't KNOW any other languages well enough to do this! And then I remembered the Firefly fic I have mostly written but not completed yet, and you know how in the show their speech is peppered with random Mandarin phrases? My husband has the Firefly RPG book and there's an appendix of Mandarin phrases you might hear in the Firefly universe, and I DID incorporate a few of those phrases into my dialogue, just from that appendix and it's probably horrible, but it fit the universe...

what was the first fandom you wrote for? EVER? The earliest I'm sure about is the Ducktales fic I found in an old Girl Scout manual that I must have written when I was 11 or 12. The first fandom I ever posted on AO3, in response to an exchange, was Legion FX of course, but that wasn't until the ripe old age of 40.

what’s your favorite fic you’ve written? I'm going to give this one to "Two (or Three) Mutant Freaks Against the Fourth Grade" just because it has gotten the least number of hits of ANY of my posts, INCLUDING THE PLACEHOLDER WITH NO WORDS IN IT, so it needs more love. And it really is one of my favorites, because it's just a sweet little story about nerds making friends, and I love rereading it.

*This made me curious which fics got the most kudos comparative to their HITS, because the Endgame one has WHOA more hits than any other fic, but it's over a thousand, which doesn't make 51 kudos look so good anymore. Percentage-wise, it's less than 5%, which seems to be where most of my fics hit when you do the math-- between 4% and 8% kudos-to-hits. The exceptions, jumping up to about 18% each, are the BttF and HMC fics, and, curiously, my beloved childhood friend AU mentioned in the last question-- it may have the least number of HITS (22), but that helps the math when you consider it's got 4 kudos. The HIGHEST percentage kudos-to-hits is its sequel, the childhood-friends-as-teenagers-AU fic mentioned in question 5**-- it's got 6 kudos and only 29 hits, so that's about 20%! Apparently people LIKE when I have to write a sex-crazed adolescent boy. COME ON, people! (The story is actually about Asexuality so I guess it really isn't people just wishing I'd write smut).

**Oh, I just noticed the numbers renumbered themselves when I put bullet points in the middle of the original question 3 there, so this is actually the answer to question 8? But it SAYS FIVE.

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