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hispg · 5 months

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Between royalty and vows

Pairings: Prince! Leon x Fem! Reader

Summary: A forced marriage, a fate set in stone, nothing could change that.

In the world of royalty, there were no choices, only obligations to fulfill. What you didn't expect was to become engaged to a renowned prince, ready to succeed the lineage.

Until that moment, you still had some hope that everything would work out, maybe it wasn't so bad. But it would be a shame if your future husband had a mistress.

Wouldn't it?

Wc:2.9k

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt/ comfort, cheating, arranged marriage, eventual smut, one-sided love, affairs, (I'll put more once things start to progress).

Prologue | 1 | 2 |

Chapter 2: Presence

"I suppose it's important, Prince." You say softly, straightening his epaulette, while Leon looked at himself in the mirror.

Today he was preparing for another of those tiresome meetings between royalty and merchants. One more of the king's deals had gone through.

He nods, giving you his attention, "Yes, indeed. My father wants me to learn about these businesses before I become king."

You didn't know if you'd heard too much or something, but he seemed genuinely overwhelmed and fatigued by it all.

"If it's any consolation, I'm cheering you on." You say in a sweet smile, giving it one last adjust on his epaulette, leaving it suitably refined.

The sun lit up the room, the gentle light brightening every corner of the room. Just as it illuminated your gentle, sweet features, the way you smiled at him. Or even the way you made a point of checking if he needed help with anything else.

So he looked at you with those sparkling blue eyes, giving you the attention you'd been waiting for for a few minutes.

"Thank you for your words, princess." Despite the cordiality, you felt that there was still a distance, which was a shame.

Even though you had already been in the castle for a few days, the formalities still continued: 'Prince', 'Princess', or even 'Your Highness'. Never by your first names, or by any other name. It might sound silly, but it was a reminder that this treatment would continue for a long time.

He was still so formal and serious with you, even though you had already been living together for a few days. And there was no sign of him changing, but maybe it was too soon, maybe you had to wait.

Or maybe you were just daydreaming.

Taking a final look at himself, and then taking the opportunity to look you up and down. He couldn't deny the way you were always well dressed. You were always so kind to him, always treated him well even when he was distant from you.

He'd be lying if he didn't say that was an admirable quality in you.

So elegant, charming even. As much as he tried not to care, he loved the smell of your cologne. Something soft that reminded him of wild roses.

He was so captivated by looking at the ornaments that adorned your neck that he couldn't help but inhale your fragrance once more, letting the soft scent that surrounded you enter his nostrils, making him feel the sweetness once more.

"You look elegant, prince." You encouraged him, wrapping your arm around his as he began to take small steps towards the door.

He gives you a simple smile, leading you through the bustling corridors with the various workers. Everyone was looking at the two of you, and whispers could be heard here and there.

You knew that in this meeting your presence was only decorative, just like all the other spouses of the other seniors who would be there. Not that it bothered you, since it could be considered a relief if you spent more time around Leon. Even if it was an obligation.

The walk was as silent as ever, only polite smiles were exchanged between you and Leon, nothing too intimate. Leon was completely uncompromising with you, if you were being sincere he barely noticed you when you were that close.

He would only do so if he was in a good mood, which wasn't very often since he was always grumpy. And being close to you often made his mood worse.

However, you could see that he was trying, but the eyes don't lie. It wasn't hard to disguise the fact that he wasn't so much fond of you. Maybe it was just an annoyance and that would change with time, at least that's what you hoped.

It only took a few minutes for the two of you to reach the main hall, where you were greeted by all kinds of important guests. Even some you hadn't even seen in person.

Nothing more than the usual courtesies, pleasantries about the upcoming wedding and the union of the kingdoms, which was in fact the most important thing. In other words, what had made the whole situation happen.

After the proper introductions, you and Leon, along with the other guests, went to the room where the meeting was to take place, a spacious place that had been properly prepared for the occasion.

Soon the meeting began, with nothing but the usual fallacies and promises of the Kingdom's future prosperity.

Nothing you and Leon hadn't heard before, but you both knew that this was nothing more than a reinforcement of the future marriage.

That's because Leon's father always looked at him as he spoke, always made a point of leaving the word to his son every chance he got. He wanted to show his son's honor and pride

He needed to show all this to everyone present.

And even though Leon didn't like being the center of attention, he couldn't say no to his father, because unfortunately he was still following his father's orders.

After a few incessant hours, the meeting ended, with a certain exhaustion on the part of those present. After the farewells, which also seemed never-ending, you two headed down the corridors, approaching the stairs to go to your chambers.

As you walked slowly, you noticed the tired look on Leon's face, as he appeared to be completely drained.

"You did well, prince." You said in a sweet whisper, giving him an approving smile.

And then that was enough for him to look at you, giving you a brief smile, but one that never failed to make your heart flutter.

"Your presence was important, Your Highness." These could have been simple words, but you felt your knees weaken with them.

You chuckled, feeling a blush spread across your cheeks.

Just as you were about to go upstairs, Leon's father called out to him from a distance, apparently wanting to talk to him about something personal.

You only heard a sigh come from Leon's lips, who then left you on the stairs to go on your way.

"I'll see you at dinner time." He says calmly, as he takes your covered hand and kisses the back of it. This time letting his lips linger there a little longer.

You get giddy every time he does that, your mind gets all messed up just feeling his lips like that.

With a charming smile, he bids you a courteous farewell and heads off in the direction of his father.

As soon as you walked the long stairs, you went straight to your bedroom, ready for a warm, comfortable bath before dinner.

But before you entered your room, something caught your eye. One of the maids was carrying a bouquet of flowers to Leon's room, and if you were being honest, the maid was in quite a hurry to carry the flowers.

From the way she was trying to sneak into Leon's room to put the flowers there, you could tell it was suspicious at best.

So you decided to go after the girl, to ask what she was doing. Slowly you approached, taking care not to alarm the woman or even make a fuss about it.

But even so, the young woman seemed to notice you, and unconsciously hid the bouquet behind her back in a clumsy way, as if to prevent you from seeing anything.

"Your Highness…" She stammered, trying to keep her composure and not get so nervous. Which failed if you were being honest.

You could see the apprehension in her wide eyes, just as her hands were shaking. What was so special about those flowers?

You nod, looking at her gently, "I imagine you're quite busy. You're in such a hurry."

You speak softly, just to level the waters, and even to appear unpretentious. She stuttered, only affirming with her head that she was in a hurry, not even trying to get into Leon's room.

"I… I was just passing by. I need to take these." She says, holding the flowers tightly, still in the same failed attempt to hide them from you.

You were about to ask one more question, but your eyes focused on a small piece of paper that had fallen to the floor, and looking at it you could tell it was a letter.

It wasn't long before you bent down and picked it up, holding it between your fingers. You didn't dare read it yet, because you already knew what it was about.

"Your Highness, this,—" You interrupt her discreetly, straightening your posture.

"I'm your highness, I don't suppose you have to hide anything from me," you then whispered, moving closer and standing in a spot where only you and she could hear each other, "Unless you're doing something wrong."

You didn't want to sound authoritative, but you just wanted to show a little sovereignty. You weren't going to let it go, under your nose was already too much.

"No, no princess." She says dimly, starting to get even more freaked out.

You didn't say much longer, your anxiety to read what was written on that letter was slowly eating away at you, and you had an overwhelming desire to find out what was there.

"Allow me." You whisper, gently taking the flowers from her hand. Carrying the bouquet in your arms.

Fresh lilies, just picked. They were kind of purplish in color, and smelled amazing. They were definitely beautiful.

The maid even tried to protest, but you dismissed her with a wave of your hand, heading for Leon's chambers. You soon entered the room, which was honestly not new to you, and you quickly closed the door behind you.

Once the silence hung in the air, you took a deep breath, looking at the flowers and the letter in your hand. And so you decided to look for a vase to put the delicate lilies in, and it wasn't hard to find, given the variety of things in Leon's room.

As soon as you placed the vase with the flowers next to Leon's bed, you decided it was time to read the letter in your hands.

The paper was all decorated, with beautiful calligraphy, as well as a few little hearts here and there. Certainly the kind of letter that lovers would exchange.

'Your favorites, handpicked. To the sweet prince, Leon. -A

You knew that this was supposed to be something intimate and that you shouldn't even be reading it, but even though it was such a subtle message, it still showed how close these two were.

Your lips trembled as you felt your vision blur. How complicated were things getting?

You even tried to push these thoughts away, thinking that maybe you were just thinking too much. But how could you do that?

How were you supposed to act as his second choice, even though you were the woman he was going to marry?

You froze once all your thoughts stopped and focused on the voice that called out to you from across the room.

"Your Highness? What are you doing here?" Leon's tone was low, as if he was completely serious and sharp with you.

You turned around, taking a deep breath and controlling your emotions, giving the sweetest, most polite smile you could manage at that moment.

"They're for you, prince." You say with a smile, as if you weren't aware of anything. The flowers weren't the first thing he focused on.

At the same moment you saw the color fade from his face, it became pale, almost the color of paper. For a split second you saw an expression of fear and surprise come over him.

His eyes widened and he took a small step towards you, but stopped at the same moment. You could even see his Adam's apple moving as he swallowed dryly, his body stiffening.

Did he really think he was hiding this secret well? How innocent it would be to think so. If the rest of the kingdom knew, why shouldn't you?

He wasn't very good at disguising it, in fact. What was he supposed to say? Wasn't it too obvious? Surely you wouldn't miss it, at least you already knew what it was about.

You moved closer to the flowers that you yourself had put in a vase, bringing your nose closer so that you could smell the lilies.

"They smell good, whoever sent it, they have great taste." You say calmly, arranging the flowers in the vase once again.

You could feel your hands starting to shake slightly, something about what you were doing didn't feel right.

But what else could you do? Maybe it was daring, but you couldn't help yourself.

Nobody liked being cheated on.

He opened his mouth for a few seconds, thinking of anything he could say.

But all that came out was a weak, 'Oh'. Before he approached you and took a look at the flowers that were there.

His fingertip brushed lightly against one of the flowers, looking at them with a certain tenderness. He obviously knew who it was from, or rather, who had sent him these flowers.

It was clearer than day.

"My mother probably sent one of the maids to buy these fresh flowers." He manages to stutter after a while, unable to face you fully.

His mother? What a lame excuse, you think.

You take a few more steps across the room, the sound of your heels echoing through the large room. You didn't even make a point of hiding the suspicious expression forming on your face.

You were quick to grab the small letter before he saw it, before he had even arrived in the room. You already knew, and you also knew that he wouldn't admit it.

However, you had proof in your hands, certainly an affair outside of the marriage relationship would not go down well with royalty, even more so coming from a renowned prince like him.

You simply had the perfect weapon in your hands, ready to be used any time you needed it. Not that you were going to do it now, you didn't even want to have to do it at some point.

However, you did have something useful in case you needed it. You didn't want to take any rash action that you might regret.

"I'll have those flowers put somewhere else,—" You interrupted him, looking at him with a gentle, sweet smile, as if you weren't tearing up inside.

"No need, I think it looks nice here." You murmured, taking the opportunity to smell the sweet scent of the flowers once again

The tension was palpable, the heavy atmosphere that soon formed in that room. Every gesture showed the unease that had formed, your lips trembled and you pressed them tightly together so as not to let anything show

But he noticed, he noticed the way your fists were clenched and that you were trembling slightly, as well as the drop of water forming in the corner of your eyes.

He knew that you might have suspected something, but what could he do? There was nothing he could say or do that would comfort you in any way.

It was as cruel for you as it was for him.

You exchanged silent but strangely meaningful glances, as if you were playing a game of chess.

The flowers and the letter became symbols of a game of appearances, where every gesture hid secrets that could dismantle the façade of a royal marriage.

And you both knew it, after all it was a game that only two could play, and you were both learning and understanding how this game would work.

It was certainly even worse in practice, but there was nothing you could do about it. Even more so, Leon was looking at the flowers in a somewhat puzzled way, but at the same time there was a certain gleam in his eye.

He couldn't hide that body language. Not even if he tried.

"If you wish, the flowers stay." He broke the silence, staring at you with that cold, penetrating gaze that was so mesmerizing.

You nodded, making a point of putting the flowers on the shelf next to his bed, acting as if you weren't interested or uncommitted to the whole thing.

God, you felt yourself breaking every time you looked at the petals, at the smell that wafted through the room.

"If the prince will excuse me, I'll go to my chambers." You said with the same sweet smile, bowing to him and leaving his room.

All you had in your ears was the sound of your heels clacking against the floor as you moved lightly to your own room.

Leon didn't say a word, he didn't even walk you to your usual bedroom door. You didn't know if it was anger or surprise, perhaps because he hadn't imagined that you would act so calmly.

Even though he could sense that you were hurt.

In the end, appearances would be kept up, even if the night had been stormy. One step at a time, day after day.

There was no such thing as a sad day in royalty, so you could already prepare your smile for the next day.

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #leon x y/n #leon x you #leon resident evil #leon kennedy smut #leon scott kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon smut #re leon #resident evil leon

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elizais · 1 month

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when you know, you know.

when they realise just how much they love you ft: nikolai, bram, poe part 1 here content/warnings: mentions of murder (poe's ability), shortttt, i tried to keep it as a gn reader but i might have slipped up at points. i wrote bram without the sword and in current day bcs i was struggling dudesss i think this is my first time trying to write for bram and poe so please take these with a pinch of salt but the lovely person who requested it was so polite i couldn't pass it up <3

nikolai was.. lively to say the least. i mean, just having a partner would be (in his eyes) something tying him down. but, for you? being with you would comply with him wanting to be free. you granted him freedom from all of the negative thoughts that could plague him.

walking down the high-street with you, hand in hand as he pondered all of these ideas. the both of you were strolling towards a cafe that kolya had begged to go to for its "famous pirozhki".

he was not in his usual attire today, wearing a simple blue turtleneck sweater and jeans that fit him loosely. you had to admit, he looked close to incredible when you contrasted it to his usual wear. even though his outfit was different, his personality did not falter in the slightest.

swinging your arms forwards and backwards quickly as you walked, he giggled at whatever joke he was thinking of. turning towards him, you smiled. "kolya?" you poked his upper arm for his attention. "what type of bird is that?" you asked, glancing at a small bird hopping through tree branches. as he looked over, it flew away.

his braid fell over his shoulder, laying softly as he considered making a witty joke. the truth of what he was thinking was of how much he adored you, how you pointed out birdies, watched comedy shows with him, tried your best to cook his favourite meals, put up with him using his ability to scare you..

he thought back to earlier, you had brushed his hair into the usual neat braid as he spoke about what tricks he was going to pull on sigma and fyodor too. he laughed as you frowned, claiming "leave sigma alone, he has a casino to take care of, babysitting you is my job."

bram was, aside from being a vampire and that, perfect. his personality was complex, but you often joked that it wittled down to him just wanting to sleep.

today, you were both sat on the sofa as he spoke about aya. you were brushing through his hair. "she was telling me about some artists, i think she meant composers." he explained, going on about music as you giggled. his hair was showing some curls towards the ends that you were entertaining yourself with.

he was kneeling in front of you so that you could face his back and toy with his hair.

"what is amusing?" he asked politely, refraining from turning around incase he messed up the braid you insisted so stubbornly on putting in his hair. you pulled the long braid onto his shoulder and he saw how you had refined the hair past the bobble into a sweet curl.

he smiled softly as you spoke, "what genre do you want to listen to? does aya have any recommendations?" you teased and he let out a soft chuckle. cherishing these sweeter, saccharine moments were as good at keeping him alive as his ability was.

he put up with the garlic jokes, playing dumb vampire films on tv (he really does love hotel transylvania!), the teasing.. all because he loves you !!

poe was like a breath of fresh air to be around. there was never a need to be loud or extroverted with him. and those were just bonuses on top of getting to hang out with a raccoon all of the time. you were currently in another room trying to trim karl's nails.

key word: trying

ed was in the study, writing another novel. whether it's for ranpo or not? who knows. karl wasn't putting up a fight but more so.. wriggling around. any sane person would have given up by now but with the amount of time this raccoon spends around your shoulders? zero chance.

once you finally finished, you swooped karl into your arms and carried him back to edgar. "ed? have you eaten or drank water recently?" you asked, setting down karl and walking over to him as he closed the book before him. he nodded as he looked up to you from his armchair.

"yes, and i have finished it!" he exclaimed, you furrowed your brows in confusion. "finished what, love?" he presented you the book proudly. "it's just like the film we watched a few weeks ago. you said you wanted to live in that manor house, no?" and that's when it clicked for you.

he carried on, "when you want to go, all the characters will be there! i had to add in another to die but other than that? it's the same!" he excitedly explained. tracing over the clothbound cover with your name on the front, he added one more thing. "oh! and to figure it out in one of the office desk drawers it will let you know what happened."

you smiled at that, he didn't want you to struggle. unfortunately, his ability was only murder mystery related so he couldn't write a book about a sunshine land where nothing went wrong. yet he tried his best, for you!

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rayshippouuchiha · 2 years

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So in the 9/10's au, I get the vibe that Nezu is also possessive, that why he gets along with/was able to help Aizawa. This is where my brain went with that.

Nezu hears that His Shouta is interested in someone. Naturally, Nezu must run an in-depth check on this person. He then discovers that a)Izuku is a very intelligent analyst and b) is not treated great by his coworkers. Nezu, being Nezu, decides that a teacher for analysis would benefit UA, and would also make His Shouta happy to see His Izuku every day. Cue Izuku having a new job he never applied to, and Hisashi, Nemuri and Tensei freaking out about Nezu also claiming Izuku.

Nedzu is absolutely a possessive individual.

Because look, Nedzu might very well be the smartest individual on the planet but he's not human.

He's an animal.

And for all of his intelligence, there are still some things, some traits and proclivities, of a more animalistic nature that linger on in him. He masks many of them of course, not out of shame, Nedzu does not actually experience shame (that's another quaint human train he's thankfully been spared), but out of pragmatism.

Weaknesses should be guarded, should be shored up and protected, unless and until exposing them is absolutely necessary or advantageous.

But, all of that being said, Nedzu is still on some level prone to falling prey to the most ancient of animalistic drives.

The urge to procreate.

Which is, for a number of reasons, one thing that Nedzu knows he will never actually be able to do. At least not biologically.

In the deepest recesses of his mind, beneath his plans and his schemes and his machinations, that drive is one of the reasons why he'd seized his place as Principal of UA.

Nedzu spends many a year with at least one eye open and searching amongst his students. Keeps his senses and his cameras alert for any whisper or hint of potential.

Then, just when he'd begun to consider looking elsewhere, or perhaps shelving the search for some time, it finally happened.

Potential of a very specific kind walked into his domain.

Aizawa Shouta clawed his way into the Heroics Course, cold fire in his eyes and a snarl just barely hidden behind an impassive face.

The injury rate for 1-A rose.

The class number dropped.

And Nedzu knew.

So he called Aizawa to his office and took the boy firmly in hand.

It wasn't long before his dream goal was realized.

Aizawa became his precious Shouta-kun, the closest Nedzu would likely ever get to a pup of his own. Someone he could directly teach, directly mold on a much more personal level than any he'd ever taught in a classroom.

So that's what Nedzu did. He taught Shouta-kun. Molded him like eager clay, showed him when it was best to stalk and best to strike. He taught him patience, taught him tactics, taught him how to refine that natural viciousness into something much more useful than aimless violence as Nedzu helped him grow into his baby fangs and claws.

And then, when the time came, he'd allowed Shouta-kun to leave the den, to venture out from the burrow for a while to carve out his own territory, confident that he would return to where he belonged in the end.

And he did of course, with two of his three remaining pets firmly in tow.

Nedzu was content for a time after that, pleased with what he'd built and those he'd accumulated at his side.

But eventually, a certain part of him began to shift and stir anew.

Only this time it was not his own legacy of sorts he was concerned with.

No, this time it was his Shouta-kun who grabbed his attention.

His Shouta-kun who is still young and strong and delightfully, bitingly, clever. His Shouta-kun who should attempt to find the true pair bonding that Nedzu himself will, more likely than not, never be able to achieve.

But Nedzu is smart. Far too smart to push too hard or prob too deep. At least not at first. Now that the matter has lodged itself in his attention pool he's willing to give Shouta-kun some time before Nedzu starts making moves of his own.

Which is why he's so deeply delighted when his Shouta-kun chooses a mate all on his own.

Midoriya Izuku.

Nedzu wastes no time in diving into every aspect of Midoriya-kun's (not Izuku-kun, not yet, not so soon, not until Shouta-kun is settled and secure in his claim) and what he finds is absolutely fascinating.

The puzzle pieces click rapidly into place and Nedzu whiskers twitch and his paws tremble in delight as the absolute treasure Shouta-kun has discovered.

Nedzu has to resist the urge to step in, has to resist the urge to immediately start moving pieces and pulling strings.

He can't overstep. Not with Shouta-kun, not in this.

But, well, he can prepare, can plan and subtly shift a few things here and there so that, when the time comes, there will be a comfortable, worthy place in Nedzu's domain for Shouta-kun's chosen to slot into.

That is, after all, a father's prerogative.

#9/10ths AU #BnHA #MHA #AiDeku #RayRambles

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lady-de-mon-coeur · 3 months

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Velvet Touch

AO3

Rated G. Words: 749. Language: English.

Summary: What usually happens when a charming prince kisses one (1) deeply infatuated ladybug?

A/N: as I told @asukiess the other day, I suddenly felt like writing these two kissing. I'd prefer it to be a little longer, but anyway, I love how it turned out.

"You care so much about everyone, Ladybug," the new cat hero's voice rang so softly in her ears. "Now it's my turn to take care of you."

Ladybug felt her cheeks grow warmer and warmer, and her heart swelled until it filled her whole rib cage.

She looked up at him in pleased disbelief and saw an extended hand.

She was deeply moved. She didn't expect so much softness and kindness from the part of a total stranger she met tonight for the first time, although she's just embarrassed herself by having a mental breakdown in front of him.

She felt her breath become uneven. She extended a trembling hand to meet his.

He helped her up to her feet.

She didn't feel like letting go of his hand.

His princely posture, his refined manners, and his extraordinary name made her weak in her knees.

Everything about this catboy was made of velvet.

He wore a royal outfit made of grey and black velvet that suited him oh so well, and a black velvet mask with a golden border.

His skin looked so velvety that she wanted to take his face in her hands and caress his cheeks until he started purring (though purring might not be exactly something to maintain his royal dignity).

The look of his cat eyes was as soft as green velvet.

Even his voice was made of the most precious sort of velvet, making her heart melt.

His lips must be velvety to touch, too.

And this hair tied up in a ponytail—God knows how much she longed to undo it and bury her fingers in these emerald green locks.

Oh la la, Marinette, you're really down bad for this boy!

Things didn't get any better as the battle played out.

Quite the opposite: the more the night moved on, the thirstier Ladybug was getting.

She couldn't keep her hands off her new partner, disguising her desire to get closer to him as purely professional gestures necessary to save the day.

But when she unexpectedly ended up in his arms, she couldn't help it and flinched, like from an electric shock.

She couldn't focus on solving her lucky charm while being constantly distracted by the prince charming in front of her.

At one point, she found herself staring at him, her gaze lovesick and unfocused, her cheeks dusted with a cherry pink blush, absolutely unable to look away.

Ugh, it was so embarrassing. But there was nothing Ladybug could do. She suddenly found herself under some sort of spell.

He noticed her staring and cocked an eyebrow.

"Ladybug? Are you sure you're alright?"

He put his hands on her shoulders.

Ladybug didn't respond. His touch made her tremble. The feverish shiver started from her feet, quickly spreading up to the top of her head. She felt unexpected tears welling up in her eyes, blurring her vision.

She hated herself for being suddenly attracted so much to this beautiful boy who called himself Patte de velours, but she couldn't help it.

She knew she was a goner.

She knew that if he'd try to make a move on her right now, he'd meet no resistance.

She looked up at him through the veil of tears in a silent surrender.

And he seemed to somehow see the white flag as clearly as if Ladybug were waving it above her head.

So when he leaned in tentatively to see if she'd let him, she just tilted her head and opened her mouth slightly to give him better access to her lips, this sanctuary of love Chat Noir has been trying to reach unsuccessfully, begging him silently to finally kiss her.

She was meek, with her legs wobbling like cooked spaghetti, so he just took her in his arms bridal style and lifted her easily, as if she were a feather, and pressed her gently to his chest, and she placed her hands on his chest, fidgeting with the golden paw-shaped buttons of his suit.

***

Ladybug knew from fairy tales that when a princess kisses a frog, it usually turns into a beautiful prince.

But what usually happens when a prince kisses one (1) deeply infatuated ladybug?

She then turns into a trembling goo, a deeply infatuated Ladybug somehow managed to think before butterflies in her stomach turned off her brain, causing a total and complete blackout.

The only thing that didn't cease to exist was the intoxicating taste of His Highness's velvety lips on hers.

#miraculous ladybug #ml fanfiction #my writing #ml kuro neko #ladywalker #ladyvelours #kisses

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crissiebaby · 1 year

Text

Stepmother Knows Best, Pt. 1

DISCLAIMER: This story contains diaper usage, humiliation, crossdressing, vibrator play, domination, and other ABDL themes. I hope you enjoy!

Commissioned By: Anon

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*Clink!*

“Mmmmmm…that’s delicious!” said Rachel as she let the subtly sweet flavor linger on her tongue. Raising the teacup to her lips again, she took in the heavenly aroma before taking her second sip, “If I’m not mistaken, I believe I taste black tea vanilla and…coconut.”

Nodding her head with a pleased expression, Deloris was thrilled by how far Rachel had come in her tea education. “Spot on, Rachel! Today’s tea is Orchid Vanilla Tea, which is a black tea infused with coconut and vanilla,” she said, lifting her teacup to Rachel as the two toasted Rachel’s acquired prowess.

If you had asked Rachel to tell you the specifics of whatever fancy tea she’d been served only six months ago, her answer would’ve been a blank stare and a passive shrug. That all changed when the 40-year-old former dress shop owner fell in love with and married a wealthy film executive. Tossing away the grind of owning a small business for the lifetime of luxury that came with marrying a billionaire, she’d found herself as a tiny fish surrounded by the viciously endless pond that was “the upper class.”

Thankfully, Rachel was lucky enough to have been carefully guided in the ways of affluent behavior by Deloris, who was a legacy member of the Hollywood elite. Descended from a long line of filmmakers, she’d made her name as the lead make-up and hair stylist on numerous major motion pictures, bagging multiple Oscars over her illustrious career. Known as one of the friendliest people to work within the industry, it’s no surprise that she and Rachel immediately hit it off when Rachel moved into the mansion next door with her new husband, the two women bonding over their love of femininity. Having no siblings of her own, it didn’t take long for Rachel to fill that void in her life, becoming the younger sister she never had.

“More tea?” said Deloris in a mockingly regal voice, offering the fine-china teapot forward to Rachel.

Holding up her glass to the teapot’s spout, Rachel graciously accepted a second serving. “Why thank you,” she said, mirroring the refined accent that Deloris was using, causing the two women to giggle in unison.

“Ugh! Do you two have to do this every day?!”

Rachel’s joyous laughter came to an abrupt halt as the prickly stem of her rosy new life reared his ugly head. “Like seriously, don’t you have anything better to do than gawk over this same girly shit? Get a life,” said Ryan, Rachel’s “loving” new stepson.

Raised as a member of the wealthy elite from birth, Ryan had entitled and cocky as one would expect a spoiled brat who’s only gotten everything he’s ever wanted might behave. Unlike Deloris, he was far from receptive to Rachel’s arrival, viewing her as no more than just another gold-digging floozy looking for a meal ticket. Beyond the judgment he held for Rachel’s financial status, he also had a deep disdain for how overtly feminine she was with him having grown up idolizing his father’s inherent masculinity.

Sinking in her chair, the last thing Rachel wanted to do was make waves with her father’s temperamental son. “I’m sorry. We’ll be done by two, I promise,” she said, forcing a smile.

“Good. I’ve got Sara coming over then and I don’t want you two turning the whole house into a lame fest,” said Ryan, walking away feeling good after having the final word. As much as he hated the way his stepmother oozed femininity, it only made her weak in his eyes. With how much of a pushover she was, he often fantasized about her being so desperate to please him that she’d offer to suck his cock on a daily basis. While the thought was tantalizing, he lacked the cojones to ever demand something like that, only able to dream about a scenario like that.

“What a sniveling twat,” said Deloris, appalled by Ryan’s nasty behavior, “You really shouldn’t show your neck and apologize like that. He’ll never take you seriously if he thinks you’re too meek to fight back.” Placing her head in her hands, Rachel was so frustrated by the constant mockery she received from Ryan that she felt like she could cry at any second. “I just don’t know what to do anymore. Do you think I want to let him “alpha male” his way into getting everything he wants? I’ve tried everything and it’s never enough. How could the kind and caring man that I married raise such a cruel son? It’s like he has blinders when it comes to Ryan,” she said, blowing her nose into the silk hanky at her side.

“It doesn’t surprise me that Daddy’s pride and joy never got the discipline he’s had coming to him for a while now. If he was my kid, I would’ve dropped his pants and spanked him right here and now. I don’t care how old he is,” said Deloris, angrily sipping her freshly poured tea before recoiling from the steamy cup, “Mhmm, too hot.”

Sighing, Rachel let her undignified sideshow as she placed her elbows on the table and leaned her chin against the backs of her knuckles. “I’m so jealous of you. You have three lovely little daughters while I got stuck with a man’s man for a son,” she said, scrunching her face into a pout as she allowed her mind to wander, “What I wouldn’t give for Ryan to have been born a girl.”

Lightbulb!

Sitting upright, Deloris's brain was suddenly set ablaze by Rachel’s passing comment. While she’d never acted on it or even told anyone about it, Deloris had always harbored a deep, seemingly-unattainable fantasy: to take a quote-unquote “alpha male” and turn him into a prissy little girl for her own amusement. She’d stay up late fingering herself to fictional stories of men being put in their place as they fell into permanent feminization, dreaming about the prospect of putting her hair and make-up skills to good use and transforming them into a quivering sissy. With the deeply-held belief that everything happens in life for a reason, she truly believed that was the chance she’d been waiting for her whole life. “Hypothetically, if we could make Ryan into a girl…would you want to?

Stopping mid-gulp, Rachel paused as Deloris’s fateful words began to take root in her mind. For a brief moment, she pictured Ryan dressed up in one of the frilly gowns she used to labor over, the thought causing her to snicker. “Hypothetically…” she said as she and Deloris stared into each other's eyes knowingly.

“Yes…hypothetically…” said Deloris, nodding to Rachel with an ear-to-ear grin growing on her face as she raised her teacup to her lips, “Ah, still too hot.”

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“What the actual fuck?! That was a fucking headshot, you cheap fucking game!” shouted Ryan, slamming her fist on the desk in a flash of aggression. His leg began to bounce impatiently as he waited for the respawn timer to tick down.

*KNOCK KNOCK!*

Inching Ryan’s bedroom door open, Rachel gingerly poked her head in. “Um, hey, Ryan, you got a minute?” she said, powering through the anxiety that was telling her to turn and run.

“Shhhjhhjhsh!” shouted Ryan as he focused back in on his game. For the next two minutes, he played out the rest of the match without saying another word to Rachel, culminating in a glorious comeback victory by the end. Slamming his fists on the counter in victory this time, he jumped up from he said and screamed, “WOOOOO! GET FUCKING REKT, KID! DID YOU FUCKING SEE THAT SHIT?!” He looked back at Rachel and gestured to his accomplishment, too amped to hate on his stepmother for once.

“That was…quite something,” said Rachel, having no clue what on Earth just happened in his game despite watching over his shoulder for two whole minutes, “Listen, I wanted to apologize for earlier. Deloris and I have agreed to move our tea time to her house from now on so we won’t disturb you. Oh! And I’ve got some cookies cooling on the stove downstairs to make it up to you. Wanna join me for some?” In the back of her mind, she prayed that she hadn’t rambled through her rehearsed dialogue too quickly so as not to tip him off that something was up.

Mercifully for Rachel, Ryan thought nothing ill of her offering, instead letting a smug expression sink into his face as he believed this was finally trying to kiss his ass like she should’ve been doing this whole time. Exiting the cue for his next match, he got up from his desk and stretched his arms, taking his time before responding, “I suppose it couldn’t hurt. Hopefully, you’re a better baker than you are a decorator.” He smiled wickedly, watching for any sign of reaction from Rachel over his dig at the updates she had made to his father’s house.

However, Rachel remained stone-faced, biting down hard on the inside of her bottom lip to keep from flinching. She could taste the small amount of metallic blood leaking onto her tongue and washing away the delightful flavor of her tea. As annoying as the pinch of pain was, it was all worth it to keep from letting Ryan get to her again. “Excellent. They should be finished cooling so let’s head on down,” she said, leading Ryan out of his room and down the hall toward the stairs. As she reached the staircase, though, she stopped and lowered her posture before turning to look at Ryan with pleading eyes, “Actually, before we head down, would you mind doing a small favor for me? There’s this box that the movers placed on a really high shelf in my closet that I’m neither tall enough nor strong enough to get. I would be super grateful if you’d help me out.”

Cringing at the thought of entering his stepmother’s ultra-fem walk-in closet, Ryan backed away, breathing in sharply through his gritted teeth. “Err…I dunno,” he said, raising both hands as if he could physically push away the idea, “If it’s all the same, I rather not-”

“Ah, darn, I figured you wouldn’t want to. Your father wouldn’t step foot in there either. If you ask me, it’s one of the few moments he’s ever appeared unmanly to me. I’ve never understood why men make such a big deal about a bunch of fabric. Don’t worry about it, though. Just forget I said anything and let’s go have some cookies,” she said, waiting for the inevitable as she turned to head downstairs.

Before Rachel could even take her first step, Ryan grabbed her by the arm. “Well, hold on now. It’s really no big deal to me. I uh…just didn’t want your cookies to get cold. If it’s only one box, it shouldn't be a problem,” he said, taking advantage of an opportunity to outdo his dad while simultaneously impressing his stepmother with his masculinity, “Lead the way!”

Traveling through the master bedroom, Rachel and Ryan entered a room that could only be described as the peak of feminine luxury. How a space this massive could ever be considered a closet was pure nonsense. It looked more like a high-end clothing boutique than someone’s personal wardrobe. There were rows upon rows of every type of female clothing imaginable, with an entire wall dedicated to shoe storage. Despite all the glitter fabrics and shiny shoes glimmering under the studio-grade lights, it was the solid gold vanity that stood out the most; its grand design and elaborate detail work being something to truly marvel at.

“Ugh! It looks like a spoiled princess threw up in here! There’s no way you could ever wear all of this useless crap!” stated Ryan, disgusted by the feminine opulence and the flowery scent that permeated the closet.

Brushing Ryan’s rude comment aside, Rachel simply shrugged. “It may seem silly to a strong man like you but there’s something so comforting about being engulfed by femininity,” said Rachel as she pointed to a massive department store box stashed high up on a shelf stationed above a rack of fur coats, “It’s that box right over there.”

Cracking his knuckles, Ryan readied himself to step up to the plate. “I’ll get that down, no problem,” he said confidently, hopping up on his tip toes as he reached up to grab the large, white, and pink box.

However, right as Ryan was about to pull the box down, Deloris stepped out from behind the rack of coats, surprising him with the self-defense spray that she kept in her purse at all times. The spray worked quickly, its sensory-depriving inhibitors causing Ryan to crumble onto the fluffy carpet. His vision became fuzzy and his hearing began to dampen as his stepmother and her tea buddy stood over him.

“Seriously, best $40 I’ve ever spent. Get yourself some. It works so much better than pepper spray,” said Deloris, tucking the self-defense spray back into her purse.

Kneeling next to Ryan’s limp body as his eyes slowly started to shutter, Rachel pinched his cheek and offered him a warm smile. “See you when you wake up, pumpkin,” she said, her words being the last thing Ryan heard as he passed out.

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Ryan’s lip twitched, feeling a series of something light like a feather brushing against his cheeks. He contorted his face, trying to scratch the itch that just kept moving around on his face like a bug. Oh Goddess, please don’t let it be a bug. He went to wipe away whatever was ticking his face but found that he was unable to move his arms. In fact, after a brief moment of struggling, he discovered that he couldn’t move any part of his body. Even though his eyes were closed, he could tell he was sitting upright, making the lack of mobility even odder. Though, the oddest thing of all was the feeling of tight, smooth fabric hugging his torso from his chest all the way down to his hips. He didn’t know what was going on but something in his gut told him he was in danger.

“Oh, I think he’s finally.”

“Hehe, now the real fun begins.”

Instantly, Ryan recognized the voices of her stepmother and her tea party friend. All at once, a rush of memories filled back into his brain, recalling that he’d accompanied his stepmother to her walking-in closet before everything went dark. Sniffing the air, he could still smell the floral scent that wafted through the air, so he had to still be in the closet. That’s when it hit him. That crazy tea lady had sprung out of the collection of animal skins and blasted him in the face with something that made him pass out. It was no longer just his gut telling him that danger was present.

Opening his eyes, Ryan was greeted by the piercing studio lighting that made up Rachel’s closet. As his eyes adjusted, he saw a strange girl he had never met before sitting across from him wearing nothing but lingerie. From the nose down, she had perfect, ruby-red lips that shined against the flattering lights, with a plethora of foundation and contour caked on to soften her chin and jawline while accentuating her cheekbones and petite facial features. Meanwhile, her eyes were still having work done, with the peachy eyeshadow being left half-done. “I’m sorry, do I…” he muttered, raising an eyebrow in confusion as the girl across from him moved her mouth at the time he did. As he did so, the girl raised her eyebrow as well, mimicking him once again. After a few more seconds of staring, it finally clicked, “W-What the FuCK IS GOING ON?!”

Looking down at his body, Ryan began frantically pulling against his restraints as he gazed upon the same lingerie that he had seen in his reflection. Pathetically, he snuck another glance at himself, slightly amazed but also horrified by how much like a girl Deloris had managed to make him look. “Untie me right fucking now! You think my dad will stand for this?! Your ass is going back out on the street where he found your money-grubbing ass,” he said, thrusting his height upward and causing the chair to bounce in place.

“Oh, you think so?” said Deloris, crossing in front of Ryan and stepping over his legs to straddle them. She made sure to tease him a little, wiggling her butt on his pointed lap as she settled into place on his thighs, “Because what do you think he’s more likely to believe? That your new mother and I overpowered you and forced you to dress up like this, or that his sissy son snuck into Mommy’s closet for some private dress-up time? If you ask me, one of these seems far more plausible than the other.”

Left in stunned silence at how bold Deloris was acting, Ryan’s eyes darted to Rachel’s reflection, hoping that his stepmother would reign in her far more domineering friend. Sadly, she did nothing more than flash him the same sadistic smile that Deloris was sporting. Realizing he’d never be able to intimidate them into letting him go, he lowered his head and began sniffling, “P-Please let me go. I promise I w-won’t say anything,” he said, hoping to appeal to a woman’s kind heart.

Sadly, there was no kindness to be found. “Oh, don’t worry, we fully intend on letting you go…so long as you play nice with us girls, that is,” said Rachel, showcasing a much more confident attitude now that she didn’t have to bend over backward to please her misogynistic stepson as she let her arms drape over Ryan’s shoulders. She slowly ran her finger softly along his chin, relishing in the sheer feeling of his freshly-shaven face, “If you sit still and let us finish our makeover, we promise to get you back into your old clothes before your old man gets home from work. However, if you keep being lippy with me and your Aunt Deloris, then we’ll have no choice but to leave you like this for your father. Do we have an understanding?”

As much as Ryan wanted to tell Rachel and Deloris to go fuck themselves, he knew there was little choice so long as he didn’t want to tarnish the manly image his father had of him. Shakily nodding his head, he stuttered out a small, “yes,” sealing his feminized fate.

Given the green light from Ryan, Deloris resumed her work as she added a heavy dusting of eye shadow. Not that she needed a green light, per se. It was more of a courtesy than anything. “See, it’s not so bad, right? Plus, it really brings out the blue in your eyes. All the boys are going to be hypnotized by your beauty,” she said purely for her own satisfaction.

Groaning from behind his pouty expression, Ryan had less than zero interest when it came to attracting guys. As much as he hated to admit it though, Deloris was right. Each time he caught sight of himself in the mirror, a tiny flutter filled his heart, one not too dissimilar from the feeling he got when looking into Sara’s dreamy eyes.

As Deloris put the cap back on the peach eye shadow, Ryan hoped that this would mean an end to his make-up session. Sadly, the eye shadow was only the beginning. Next, came eyeliner and mascara, both of which put quite a strain on his eyes as he struggled to keep his eyes from watering. Not that it would have mattered since Rachel was quick to comment, “Tears of joy over finally seeing the real you? Go ahead and let it out all you want to. Your make-up is waterproof for a reason.”

Following the eye torture that came from the pitch-black products, Ryan was introduced to perhaps the most unique form of agony that he’d ever been subjected to. “Now, hold very still. I don’t want to prick you,” said Deloris as she brought a pair of tweezers close to Ryan’s eyebrows. He wanted to protest but it only took a single time of him flinching and being stabbed by the sharp point of the tweezers to keep him still. Every hair that was pulled from the pair of fuzzy wigglers over his eyes was akin to going through Chinese water torture. By the time his first eyebrow was finished, he didn’t even care how feminine he looked. He just wanted Deloris to finish as fast as possible.

Plucking the last tiny hair from the far side of his left eye, Deloris stepped back to get a full look at his face, a malicious smirk growing on her face. “Goddess, I am good. I don’t even think his father would recognize him now,” she said, prompting Rachel to join her in admiring the rebirth of her new stepdaughter.

“Heck, I don’t even recognize him and I watched you do it!” shouted Rachel as both girls fell into a fit of giggles.

As the ladies laughed, Ryan could only grimace at his reflection, not wanting to see what had become of him but also unable to look away. As Deloris moved back in and began spritzing a setting spray on his face, he could actively feel the grip he had on his masculinity slipping. To make matters worse, the silky fabric and constant humiliation in combination with seeing his new form completed caused an unfortunate chain reaction in his loins. Feeling the tingling sensations creeping throughout his shaft, he bit down on his tongue hard, hoping to quell his heightened arousal.

Tragically, Ryan’s efforts were all for naught as Rachel got sight of the tiny point sticking out of his satin and lace panties. She quickly rushed over to Deloris, who was halfway through her finishing touches on Ryan’s make-up, and whispered into her ear.

The two girls began laughing once again, causing Ryan’s heart rate to elevate and, in turn, his hard-on to pulse slightly faster. “What devious scheme were these two planning now?” he thought, far from excited to find out the answer.

Stepping out of Ryan’s direct line of sight, Rachel reached into her pocket and pulled out a small remote. From the second she and Deloris had gotten Ryan fitted into lingerie, she’d been chomping at the bit to reveal the big surprise to her stepson. And now that he was properly stiffened, it was the perfect opportunity to further shove him down the path of permanent sissification.

While Ryan assumed he was just wearing regular-degular lingerie, the truth was far more sinister thanks to the Valentine’s Day present that his father had bought for Rachel only a handful of months prior. Wrapped delicately around Ryan’s waist and prodding pecker was a pair of remote-controlled vibrating panties with five glorious settings to bring any good girl to her knees. With her thumb on the remote, she made sure to watch every inch of Ryan’s body for a reaction as she clicked the vibrator on.

*bzzzzzzzzzzzz*

An instant shiver was sent up Ryan’s spine before spreading across his body in a series of chills. His eyes went wide and his lip started to quiver as the low rumble of his vibrating panties worked to egg on his cock’s growing need for attention. And the attention he did get as Rachel stormed back up to him and cupped her hand tightly around his dick and balls, increasing the sensations felt from the panty’s internal vibrator. “Your dad was so nice to buy me these but they're not really my style,” she said, wiggling her fingers on the underside of Ryan’s testicles as her palm brushed against the head of his penis, “Do you think your father ever would allow me to put these on him? Of course, not. But you don’t need to worry about that anymore since you’ll never be the man he is.”

It was all too much. The ceaseless vibrations of the panties. The aggressive tightness of his restraints. The sheer sensuality of his silky lingerie. The cruel taunting from Rachel. The overwhelming feeling of femininity ensnared his heart and soul. All of this added up to send his pleasure receptors well past the point of no return. Rachel had only been gripping Ryan’s privates for thirty seconds, but that was all it took for his cock to start spurting out semen. He uttered a squealing moan as his body convulsed, raptured by the most shameful and glorious orgasm of his life.

Pulling her hand away, Rachel grabbed a make-up wipe and cleaned off the droplets of spunk that clung to her fingers. “I don’t think there’s any way you could argue now. You are officially as sissy as sissy can be,” she said, tossing the used wipe aside and returning to Ryan’s side to stroke his shoulder-length hair, “You sure we don’t want to give him a girlier hairstyle? I agree that the mid-length is good but we could give him bangs or something.”

Shaking her head without looking away from Ryan’s face, Deloris responded, “Seldom few people can pull off bangs properly. Besides, if we cut his hair any shorter, they’ll be less to play with.” The two girls chuckled once again, imagining the variety of precious hairstyles they could give him once the make-up game ended and the dress-up game began.

*DING DONG! BING BONG!*

Suddenly, Rachel, Deloris, and Ryan all froze as a fancy doorbell sounded off, alerting the trio to the presence of a visitor. “It’s not his father. He would’ve just come in,” said Rachel, who wasn’t aware anyone else would be stopping by today.

Ryan, however, was well aware of who was downstairs. A droplet of sweat ran down his neck as he realized this situation was about to go from bad to worse now that his childhood friend, Sara, had arrived for their two o’clock hangout.

TO BE CONTINUED…

PART 2 PART 3

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You could've read this story two weeks earlier! Join my Patreon, where you can get early access to commissioned stories like this one, as well as exclusive content you won't find anywhere else! Dozens of exciting stories are already available, so be sure to check out patreon.com/crissiebaby!

Edited by AllySmolShork

#ab/dl #ab/dl art #ab/dl stories #ab/dl girl #ab/dl diaper #diaper art #diaper stories #crissiebaby #diaper messy #wetting diaper #diaper humiliation #sissybaby #diaper sissy #ab dl #ab dl diaper #mommy k!nk #fem dom #md/lb

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ask-the-clergy-bc · 2 months

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Update: LA Ghoulette Names + Swiss Element Change

Just wanted to update the name list for future work! I’ve finally decided what I’d like to name the Ghoulettes from the Kia Forum shows! :) These are what I’ll be calling them in my own works, and what elements I’ve assigned them!

If any new tidbits or fun scenes of them emerge in the eventual movie some of this info might change. But for now I am very happy with these portrayals!

My list of all ghouls is pinned but you can find it here —> [Link]

Luna - Vocalist - Quintessence

Trained along side Aurora back in the day! All of the LA ghoulettes were hand selected and worked with Stratus and Aurora for a Papa centuries ago. Back when this particular Papa had a hold on the opera and classical music scene. Luna is very close to Aurora and Stratus! Luna is one of the most respected ghouls in the entire ministry and is often sought for advice and guidance.

Breeze - Grand Pianist - Air

Tall, elegant, and as pleasant as a summers day. Don’t let her queenly manner fool you. She’s stronger than she looks! Sometimes goes by ‘Breezy’. She was mentored by Air ages ago. She often just plays for leisure these days, but was happy to be asked to attend Papa IV’s Ritual.

Aqua - Cellist 1 - Water (Freshwater)

A refined beauty of a ghoul. A true gem in the ministry and very talented at many stringed instruments. She’s not as versed in modern music, but she has a love of all genres and instruments. Before her appearance back into public she tutors many ghouls in music and human culture. She’s an appreciator of fine art.

Marina - Cellist 2 - Water (Oceanic)

Mysterious yet playful. Like the ocean lapping at your feet on a beach. Her favorite last time is running around the halls of the ministry in her fine mourning gown, like a human princess. No one is quite sure what she does when she’s not attached to Aqua or playing music. But she is like a siren. A beautiful voice and even more talent with her element and cello.

Swiss update!!

I originally wrote Swiss as a primarily fire ghoul with water and Forrest abilities. But recently I wasn’t satisfied with that entirely, and swapped them around!!

Now he is still a mostly fire ghoul but he is also Air and Quintessence!! I think this is much more fitting for his abilities and personality! :)

#blog update #nameless ghouls #Swiss #la forum ghoulettes #Kia forum ghoulettes #La ghoulettes #Luna #breeze #Marina #aqua #Swiss ghoul

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lutiaslayton · 4 months

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So uh. Hi, I finally made a decision I probably should have made a long while ago thanks to talking a bit on Discord: for the sake of my sanity I will not be keeping up the weekly schedule after all 😔 Layton's Book Club updates WILL be posted exclusively on Saturdays at the decided time, instead of at any random time in the week, and I will likely make a few heads up when we're on a lucky week during which you'll get an update, but I will not force myself to make it happen every single week. Simply because at least right now, it is physically impossible for me to do so. (Chapter 1 Part 1 of Illusory Forest is going to be the end of me, and not just because I am still questioning if the author was under the influence of some Folsense gas while writing it.)

That being said, I believe this should actually be treated as good news, and not just good news for my personal health. Because, sure, the updates will not come out as often as I had originally planned to. But in the long run, I actually believe that since I no longer plan to force myself to only work on one thing (which has progressively been eating at my sanity on top of that because darn it this chapter is stupid and it just doesn't seem to END, + it'd be nice if I could finally get some content out that is my creation rather than somebody else's), it means that I will actually allow myself to post more diverse Layton stuff in the meantime.

Stuff like the Evan Barde post I made a few days ago, or other helpful-for-the-fandom stuff that isn't translation work, or… even maybe stuff like finally allowing myself to write SLS and draw random stuff again? Or even read other people’s fanfics and comics and AUs and stuff? (ok technically that last one would probably not lead to tumblr content but shush it means I would take time to look at YOUR content for a change)

The list of stuff I'd like to post in the future includes but is not limited to:

A tutorial on how I get my translation stuff done despite the fact that I do not actually speak Japanese. Best case scenario, this might even lead to some brave people among you to start helping me with this monumental task that is translating multiple novels and games from scratch while you're not even fluent in the language you're translating, and this would be a MASSIVE weight off my back. (spoiler alert: while I do use DeepL to check stuff and/or get inspiration, my work is NOT limited to simply copy/pasting sentences into it and then copy/pasting whatever it gives me back)

The Playthrough series! You had all forgotten about it, hadn't you? Yeah, me too.

Lore analysis stuff in general. I have a massive, absolutely insane project ongoing which is basically "Want to find some info about X? Just open that one (1) web page, enter a few tags such as a specific character's name or location, clich the Search button, and get a list of every single known fact which is related to all of your tags which is summarised down to the bare minimum fact, along with the exact source and quote directly taken from the source material."

Puzzle theory stuff. I've talked about it a lot, it'd be cool if I could finally get the stuff sorted and actually provide all the evidence supporting, refining or challenging it in one place. Above-mentioned lore analysis stuff should help with that.

More fancy shitpost such as the ones found in the #lutiasdraws tag. Let me join in on the fun pls it's good for my mental health to get some serotonin out of non-boring stuff. Heck, perhaps I might even do fanart/shitpost about some fanfics/AUs/others I find and enjoy.

That being said, I apologise to everyone who was hyped at the idea of Illusory Forest updating weekly, but I hope you'll still enjoy the stuff I'll be posting here. If not, blacklisting tags is a thing! I tag everything diligently so for example if you're tired of seeing me ramble about stuff (I do that a lot lately, sorry for that 😭), you can just block the #lutiastalks tag. Yes I finally decided to make #lutiasreplies exclusive to actually replying to asks or reblogs, and use #lutiastalks for random news stuff. yay to self-care and cleaning up my house, head, and tumblr blog.

#lutiastalks

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reviewinghiccup · 1 year

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RIDERS OF BERK | HTTYD SERIES | BREAKING DOWN HICCUP

Blog Post Series : Breaking Down Hiccup

Title : In Dragons we Trust | Alvin and the Outcasts

Ep/Season : Episode 5 & 6, Season 1 (Riders of Berk)

Premise(s) :

Mildew sets out get rid of the dragons. As usual. Alvin the Treacherous, a long term enemy of Berk has now ceased the opportunity to appear and kidnap the dragon conqueror for himself, much to his surprise.

THE OPENING SCENE

The opening sequence of Episode 5 is cathartic. When Hiccup free falls, there is such freedom and release. He glides in the air with such ease. The artistic direction of the show is refined. Hiccup is the bravest in the sky, and ironically, somewhat uncomfortable on land. He is himself with Toothless, or in a better way put - more himself. But without Toothless, he is always placed in a position of finding himself.

Episode 5 and 6 is exactly that. We know that Mildew’s scheme to get rid of the dragons succeeds at the end of Episode 5. And Hiccup is now looking for an opportunity to get Toothless back and bring him home. The struggle now begins as Hiccup has to find his strength in the absence of his best friend.

CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT

HICCUP HORRENDOUS HADDOCK III

At the start of Episode 5, we are made aware of the dynamic of Hiccup in the village. There is now no disputing that he is Stoic’s heir. I’d like to think that the village was worried having Hiccup as chief initially. He’s scrawny, tiny, couldn’t/wouldn’t kill a dragon. He didn’t fit the Viking mould. Even Stoic was concerned. But after the battle with the Red Death, no one can fault Hiccup’s stubbornness and bravery. His courage was unmatched. His compassion greater than the scale of his measure and his understanding even larger.

So, when we go into Riders of Berk, Hiccup is undisputedly next in line. This is reflected in what Stoic tells Hiccup in Episode 5 “all eyes are upon you son, whatever those beast do reflects on you AND whatever you do reflects on ME.”

RELATIONSHIP DYNAMIC

FATHER-SON & CHIEF

Hiccup is trying to prove himself. And while Stoic has done better after the events of the 1st movie, in terms of parenting, he still struggles to divide his position as chief and his role as father. This context is often a topic when we follow a storyline involving royalties and their heirs.

Stoic doesn’t want to disappoint his son, but he must also protect his village, which is allegedly being ruined by something his son loves the most and believes are innocent.

The question of trust is still a running theme between father and son.

And the notion of whether Hiccup is a worthy leader hangs lightly in the air.

The living situation between dragons and Vikings is still precarious.

HICCUP X ASTRID

I can’t not talk about them. When Hiccup was contemplating the series of unfortunate events, he starts to believe that Mildew set everything up. After they leave the dragons on Dragon Island, Astrid, sad and upset looks for him. I notice that the two of them, in the earlier days of friendship, often sought each other for support (as they will continue to do into their relationship).

At the same time, Hiccup confides in Astrid the possibility of Mildew’s treason. She has always been his voice of reason. A great listener. She doesn’t nudge him towards the impulsive but is wise in her counsel, letting him make his own decisions, but reminding him to calculate them. We know they grew up together, but the grew together as well, if you get what I’m saying.

This reminds of the final movie, when Gobber pesters Astrid to marry him. It is because he knows that Astrid makes Hiccup better. Even Valka acknowledges that he listens to her. There will always be a Hiccup and Astrid.

HICCUP V ALVIN THE TREACHEROUS

Alvin the Treacherous (voiced by Mark Hamill might I add 🙌🏼) is Hiccup’s first enemy. I get that Mildew might be considered the first, but he wasn’t a real threat to Berk (yet).

Something Hiccup proves very well, is that he is brave. He isn’t stupidly audacious, like Snotlout, who when push comes to shove might run away from the challenge (though arguably Snotlout gets better towards the end).

He is also very clever. He chooses his battles and uses psychology to outwit his enemies, instead of brute strength, which most of them would have more than him anyways.

HEROIC STORY LINES

UNDERRATED ROMANTIC | CHIVALRY AIN’T DEAD

Hiccup heroically shows up just when Astrid needs him. I love these little touches. Hiccup continues to prove himself to be nothing like “Stoic’s little embarrassment.”

Hiccup tries to trick Alvin. Astrid catches on quickly (proving their inward connection) and plays along w his plan. We know that this rouse may not fly if it was put against the twins or Snotlout, who may not get the idea immediately and Fishlegs would be too nervous to act it out well.

HICCUP’S BRAVERY

Was it stupid to let Alvin take him hostage? Yes, but Hiccup was unafraid. And didn’t even flinch while captive. He grows a lot in these two episodes. I love that his size holds no comparison to his courage.

BATTLE STRATEGY IMPROVES

While Alvin will prove to be a lesser evil than the demons that will soon chase him in later seasons, Hiccup and the way he manoeuvres Toothless on the battle field will improve and match up w the evil at hand. The turns he makes when battling Alvin is a little clumsy and out of touch, but this will change as he practices and progresses in the story. I like that they made it look that way, as opposed to Hiccup just naturally knowing how to fight w Toothless by his side. I appreciate the growth they’re trying to lay out here.

Likewise, the way the riders work as a team will also progress. The other’s seemingly irrelevant rattlings will prove useful, and Hiccup will learn to be a leader, team player and friend to them and they to him.

CONCLUSION

I loved how Stoic faced off Alvin. Punishing him for taking Hiccup. Which shows off his tenacity, strength and love for his son.

I like how though Mildew wasn’t outed, he didn’t need to be. It’s like a lesson in “things don’t always work out the way you want it to and justice isn’t always served independent of evidence". But when you do the right thing, things will workout, and that’s exactly what happened.

I love that at the end of the episodes, the village cheered on the dragon riders sparking on a desire to let them stay and tolerate a free roaming dragon city.

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rosethornewrites · 6 months

Text

Fic: hold the bright moon in my arms, ch. 4

Relationships: Niè Huáisāng & Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī/Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn

Characters: Niè Huáisāng, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Original Characters, Lán Zhàn | Lán Wàngjī

Additional Tags: Pining, Feelings Realization, Illnesses, ennui, Found Family, Porn Reading, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Manipulative Niè Huáisāng, Memories, Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn Needs a Hug, Post-Canon, Pining Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, Friendship, Niè Huáisāng Is A Little Shit, POV Wèi Yīng | Wèi Wúxiàn, POV Third Person, Qi Deviation, Resentful Energy, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Panic Attacks, Triggers, Fainting, Anal Sex, Getting Together, Love Confessions, Grief/Mourning

Summary: Wei Wuxian must face Lan Wangji.

Notes: see end

First fic

1-2 | 3

AO3 link

——————

Wei Wuxian woke slowly to the sound of guqin music, played in that refined way he would always recognize as Lan Zhan’s style, and he let himself drift on the music for a while, a song of clarity powered with Lan Zhan’s qi, gently bolstering his own to promote calm and healing.

It was a strange parallel to how he woke in the Cloud Recesses after his resurrection, his mask removed while he was unconscious, but Lan Zhan’s playing then had been different, more hesitant, and he knew now how their miscommunication had harmed him. He could remember how disheveled Lan Zhan had been then, and knowing the reason now made his heart ache, that he had caused him so much grief.

“I think he’s awake,” came a too-loud whisper, definitely Jingyi, and the teen’s presence would make him smile if not for the worry threaded in the cadence of his voice.

He finally opened his eyes, the lids heavy enough that he knew he must have terrible bags under his eyes, not that he could remember a time without them. Sometimes he wondered if he was resurrected with them still following him from his past life, just as everything else followed him.

Lan Zhan was seated on the floor, looking serene, with no hint that he had just flown from Gusu to Qinghe in barely a day, just as put together and—

Wow, how had he never actually realized how much he admired Lan Zhan and that there might be more behind it? So much for being a genius.

Jingyi abruptly blocked his view, kneeling beside the bed with all his windswept messiness making it clear he just journeyed by sword, and Wei Wuxian almost smiled at the dichotomy.

“Wei-qianbei, when the letter arrived about your qi deviation we flew all the way here right away, with no stops at all! Sizhui is still with the Gho— I mean, with Wen-gongzi in Qishan or I’m sure he’d’ve come, too!”

He sounded so earnest and worried that Wei Wuxian felt a wave of fondness, but for Lan Zhan more than Jingyi.

“Aiya, Lan Zhan, how did you raise such empathetic juniors?”

Lan Zhan’s expression was almost the ghost of a smile when he responded, Jingyi having moved to the side so Wei Wuxian could see it, deferential to his seniors.

“I considered what Wei Ying would do.”

The compliment twisted at something inside him uncomfortably, his sincerity almost painful for more reasons than Wei Wuxian cared to explore in mixed company.

“Spare this delicate man, Hanguang-Jun,” he finally managed when he was able to speak again, too overcome for a real response.

A healer came in, likely summoned by Jingyi’s exuberance. Once she assessed his meridians, she cleared him to attend lunch, but added even more restrictions, banning any use of even small amounts of spiritual energy and urging him not to stress his body too much, which basically left him with no distractions for the foreseeable future.

Somehow this was all Nie Huaisang’s fault.

The song ended, leaving a pregnant silence, and Wei Ying felt heavy and discombobulated, but then Jingyi’s stomach rumbled loudly, the poor boy likely starving after his flight, and Wei Ying couldn’t help but laugh.

“I guess we should get lunch before you fall over,” he teased the youth, easing himself into a sitting position.

He caught Lan Zhan’s gaze and the amusement in it, hidden by his normal deadpan face, filled him with unspeakable fondness, and he grinned.

“I’ve practiced inedia,” Jingyi muttered, slightly petulant, but then his stomach gurgled again, and this time he joined in when Wei Ying laughed.

Lan Zhan, still the picture of grace, busied himself stowing his guqin in his qiankun sleeve, then rose in a single smooth movement, striding steadily to the bedside to offer his hand to Wei Wuxian.

He felt frozen for a moment by his zhiji’s steady gaze, and then he took the proffered hand and allowed himself to be helped up, something he normally would eschew, too focused on standing on his own back then to recognize that Lan Zhan was right there.

Though not touching, Lan Zhan was close enough beside him to feel his warmth as they made their way to lunch, distracting enough that he barely noticed Jingyi impatient with their pace behind them. He kept up a safe ramble about what he’d been doing in Qinghe since his arrival, eventually commenting on how ridiculously big his quarters were. Much of his last life he had made do, only having had particularly large quarters during his time in the Burial Mounds, which had been significantly less comfortable with far fewer amenities.

“Honestly, they’re almost too big for one person,” Wei Wuxian said idly, then went quiet as he realized that was on purpose, damn Nie-xiong, and he’d just blurted it out like a fool.

Lan Zhan shifting to glance at him as they walked brought him back to himself, and he forced a smile, but let it drop when he noticed the concern in his eyes.

“I’m just not used to that sort of thing—they’re much bigger than even the ones I had back…”

He tripped over his words, having instinctively almost said ‘home,’ when there was no returning to Lotus Cove, the one that had once been his home no longer in existence, razed with its people slaughtered, a shade of what it had been haunting his memory.

“Well,” he tried to salvage, “back before the war, anyway.”

Back before the world had largely stopped making sense, before indoctrination, before Jiang-shushu and Yu-furen had been killed and Lotus Pier burned, before he’d given his future to Jiang Cheng and fallen into darkness.

The attempt to salvage was, unfortunately, a worse verbal blunder than the one he’d started with, and on more levels than he cared to count. Of all the possible times for his mouth to move ahead of his brain, of course it was this one, when he had very little face left to save but just enough that it made him feel uncomfortably open.

Thankfully, they reached the dining room before he had to find more words, before he had to address the look of steady compassion Lan Zhan was giving him, the one that made his soul itch in this body that was disturbingly not quite like the one he’d worn when he died.

The surprise presences of Nie Hengxiang and Nie Yingwei helped distract him further from the need to find more words for Lan Zhan, as he used the opportunity to introduce them. They greeted him as ‘Wei-qianbei,’ which earned what sounded suspiciously like a hissed ‘yes!’ from Jingyi, and a curious glance from Lan Zhan.

Nie Hengxiang was easier to introduce, in a way, as the capable junior Nie Huaisang sent to protect him, the story of their meeting falling easily from his mouth, how he’d essentially woken up to find he’d been saved from assassination, and then learned it hadn’t been the first, just the first to get close enough for the struggle to wake him.

Lan Wangji only nodded in appreciation, but Lan Jingyi was a bit more exuberant.

“Thanks for protecting Wei-qianbei,” he said, bowing appropriately, but with a grin that was far less decorous. “You’d think people would leave him alone since he was proved innocent.”

He seemed frustrated, his tone almost a scoff, affronted on Wei Wuxian’s behalf, and it warmed him that the boy held him in such regard, more so by Nie Hengxiang’s agreement with the sentiment. He knew well enough that Jin Guangyao’s machinations didn’t fully exonerate him, that the path to his downfall had been cleared by his decisions and actions, as well, but it was nice to be seen in a positive light by the younger generation after being so reviled.

Nie Yingwei was harder to explain because Lan Zhan would no doubt hear the significance of the name. He also didn’t want to blunder ahead and overstep what she might and might not want public. He wound up introducing her as an adopted member of the Nie clan, with her courtesy name and a gesture toward Nie Huaisang to put him back in the hot seat so he could feel less on the spot.

It was his turn, anyway.

If saving someone made one responsible for them for a lifetime, surely bringing a man back to life (in part to do one’s dirty work) made one indebted enough that Nie-xiong could do him this favor.

Of course, Nie Huaisang handled it smoothly, telling him of the crèche, introducing Nie Yingwei as the first ward adopted into the clan through it and the reason for its development, his tone matter of fact, with just enough information that Lan Wangji would be able to come to the conclusion himself the deeper reasons he had been moved to save her to begin with. Wei Wuxian didn’t dare look at either of them, not able to face their shared grief and the implications of conversations had during the years of his death that he couldn’t even begin to guess at.

He didn’t know how to address any of it, now that he was alive again and cognizant of that sixteen-year grief, which understandably wasn’t magically erased just because he was back. Eventually he’d have to deal with it, but until then Wei Wuxian knew the value of a good retreat to conserve and build the energy it would require.

As they were escorted to their seats by the servants, Wei Wuxian was glad to focus solely on his lunch, full of yin foods—a millet congee with pork belly, duck eggs, and a bok choy, clams in black bean sauce, and a plate of fresh fruits, sliced and ready to eat with a drizzle of honey, all of which smelled delicious despite being devoid of peppers. Lan Jingyi joined several other Lan disciples, ones Wei Wuxian recognized from the Yi City incident, the plate on his tray piled with the fried chicken he was so obsessed with, once again showing Nie-xiong’s use of intelligence.

Wei Wuxian was taking a sip of a rather lovely fruit tea to cleanse his palate before the meal when Nie Huaisang finished explaining the crèche, and Nie Yingwei decided to contribute.

“Zongzhu named me after Wei-qianbei,” she said blandly, and Wei Wuxian only barely managed not to choke. “He started the crèche to honor him, so fewer kids would grow up in the streets.”

Nie Huaisang wasn’t quite quick enough to hide his blush behind his fan at the point-blank revelation, something Nie Yingwei seemed to take pride in.

Lan Jingyi choked slightly and whispered, “Sizhui!” to himself far too loudly.

Wei Wuxian realized all at once that A-Yuan’s courtesy name was… eerily similar, if much deeper and suggestive of a different sort of grief. He felt raw.

Lan Zhan studied Nie Huaisang for a moment, as though weighing how it altered his opinion of the Nie sect leader, before nodding in approval.

“It is a noble endeavor,” he said simply.

“Cultivation isn’t my strong point,” Nie Huaisang admitted ruefully, “so I had to find another way to protect the weak.”

With exactly no more patience for etiquette, Wei Wuxian decided the best way out of this situation was to simply start eating ahead of Nie Huaisang, who wouldn’t be offended and might even understand his need to not be present for this conversation. Lan Zhan would adhere to his reliable rule of no speech while eating. Hopefully they wouldn’t somehow circle back to it after lunch.

He wasn’t running away from it so much as delaying, but Wei Wuxian would take what he could get.

The faux pas of eating even a piece of fruit before a sect leader led to a pause in conversation, but it was weirdly devoid of judgment.

Nie Huaisang laughed, but thanked him for starting.

“Nie-daifu would have my head if I delayed your meal any further, and of course our visitors have traveled swiftly and need a good meal.”

Wei Wuxian distinctly heard Jingyi mutter “Finally” under his breath, and was glad at least he appreciated it—he’d probably been waiting to eat since Lan Zhan arrived, poor kid.

He knew he’d have to face Lan Zhan later, and do so more clearly after that because apparently coming back to life was complicated, but for now he could just focus on eating and leave that problem for future him to deal with. Wei Wuxian had always done his best thinking while otherwise occupied, so he focused on his meal, starting with the clams, enjoying the flavor the Nie cooks had brought into the bean sauce.

When he glanced at Nie Huaisang he was in the middle of making some sort of expression at Lan Zhan, as though he was trying to have a silent conversation, and he quickly hid his face behind his fan when he saw Wei Wuxian looking; Lan Zhan, on the other hand, gave no indication he noticed Nie-xiong, though Wei Wuxian made sure he kept his eyes on his food when he turned toward him.

Lan Zhan had concerns for his health, and they were probably complicated by his knowledge of Wei Wuxian’s jindan. He’d died without one, after all, and having Mo Xuanyu’s, but in a body apparently his own, was unprecedented. Lan Zhan would of course worry for his health, he was so good.

The truth was, though, that after lunch he would have to face that worry, and the underlying emotions that Wei Wuxian was now aware of, both in himself and Lan Zhan. The cause of his small qi deviations was emotional, not anything else, and he couldn’t allow him to keep worrying about his health when it was as easily resolved as a conversation.

So he made sure to finish the food on his tray, knowing the healers had decided portions and hoping to fortify himself for the inevitable discussion. Normally he’d talk through the meal, but the thought of coming up with the words was daunting, so he kept his attention on his food, eventually picking at the last bits of fruit, not trying to delay further, but not speeding toward it either.

Once, he’d have spent half the meal flicking melon seeds at Lan Jingyi just for his own amusement (and because Jingyi couldn’t complain or retaliate with Lan Zhan right beside Wei Wuxian), something that seemed to be too much trouble right now. Wei Wuxian knew this likely worried Lan Zhan, too, but it was really just that he was tired. As it turned out, qi deviations were exhausting, and he had spent more time asleep than awake since his, so perhaps the worry was unavoidable.

Nie Huaisang eventually ordered the Nie disciples to show the Lan contingent to their quarters and around the Unclean Realm if they so desired, announced that Hanguang-Jun’s quarters would be ready after the evening meal, and then promptly excused himself to “attend to sect business,” using the appearance of servants to clear the trays as a distraction to enable him to disappear through a side door before Wei Wuxian could even react, the little shit.

Lan Zhan stood smoothly, unruffled, and turned to the juniors.

“You have pushed your cores in the trip. Please use the afternoon to rest and meditate,” he told them as he dismissed them.

Lan Jingyi looked relieved enough that he could have fallen over in exhaustion, but he immediately saluted with his peers and let the Nie disciples lead the way out. He made sure to stop by Wei Wuxian and wish him a good rest of his day, punctuated with a yawn.

Lan Zhan’s expression when he turned to Wei Wuxian, holding out a hand to help him up, was almost unbearably soft, full of emotions he wasn’t sure he was ready to face, but he knew it was long overdue. He took the proffered hand and let himself be pulled to his feet, feeling much like a maiden being courted.

Wei Wuxian could feel heat rush to his face, and knew he was blushing like just such a young maiden. He was actually relieved when Lan Zhan took his flushed cheeks as something the healers should check to be certain he was well, pulling him toward the infirmary. Relieved and a strange combination of guilt and happiness, regretful for putting Lan Zhan through more worry, but also seeing the evidence of his care…

The healer, of course, said he was fine and was pleased he had eaten his meal and looked much better than earlier, sending them off with several pouches of tea to enjoy.

With the medicinal tea in hand, Wei Wuxian was only able to delay so much before they inevitably wound up in his quarters for a conversation he didn’t even know how to start, but he valiantly led the way through a garden on the way, using a koi pond as a nice excuse to dally.

He knew full well that Nie Huaisang had manufactured the delay in accommodations for Lan Zhan to meddle, and he wasn’t sure whether to be irritated or grateful.

Irritated, he decided when they arrived at his quarters to find the large stone tub off the main room had been filled with steaming hot water, with flower petals sprinkled atop in a way he could play off as a medicinal bath, but he wasn’t going to insult Lan Zhan’s intelligence by attempting to lie.

Lan Zhan took the bagged tea for him and had him sit at the low table, which was at least stocked with snacks, going to brew it himself, and Wei Wuxian settled in to watch him, not able to do anything else, his eye drawn to his zhiji’s graceful motions. Then Lan Zhan looked up as he set the brewing teapot on the table and sat in a smooth motion, and he was helpless to look away.

“Your qi deviations?” he asked, his soft voice concerned, as usual wasting no words.

“Ah… as it turns out strong emotions can disrupt qi, especially in developing or damaged cores,” Wei Wuxian said, trying to adopt the intonation of a scholar discussing something mundane.

The explanation did not ease the concern that was emanating from Lan Zhan, who reached forward to take his wrist, glancing up at him as though to ask permission, which Wei Wuxian gave with a nod, before sending a small stream of his qi though to check himself. He tried very hard not to shiver at the feel of Lan Zhan’s qi singing though his meridians.

“Which?” he asked, his voice strained, and Wei Wuxian realized with a start that Lan Zhan, though he knew he had died without a core, wouldn’t know if the core Mo Xuanyu left him had been damaged, and so his attempt to explain had only worried him further.

“Mo Xuanyu’s core is weak, but undamaged,” he said, feeling off-balance in the discussion. “It’s barely a foundation, just enough to cause trouble.”

He felt off-balance in the discussion, in the way it felt like it was already going sideways, with him worrying Lan Zhan again by speaking without thinking, and he distracted himself for a minute pouring tea for each of them and taking a sip, breathing in the steam wafting from his cup and hoping it could ease some of the stress he felt.

“You will refine it, as you did before.”

The confidence in his voice helped, his faith in Wei Wuxian’s abilities and determination, the acknowledgement of his capabilities–and he had always had faith, even in the darkest times of the war, when Wei Wuxian was drowning in resentment and Lan Zhan worried for his health.

In some ways that made it worse since, as he had told Nie Huaisang, he’d known from the moment he was dropped into the Burial Mounds that his days were numbered. As terribly as he’d died, it had honestly bee something of a relief to be freed of it all by the time it happened, and he knew full well that, past or not, that would make Lan Zhan worry more about him, and he’d done quite enough of that for two lifetimes.

“It won’t be easy, but I’m used to attempting the impossible,” Wei Wuxian said after a moment, then tried not to wince at using the Yunmeng Jiang motto when he definitely isn’t part of the sect.

He was certain Lan Zhan noticed—he didn’t comment on the matter of the Jiang clan and Jiang Cheng (not that he ever would vocally), but a brief shift in expression reminded Wei Wuxian that there was a lot of unpleasant history between Lan Zhan and Jiang Cheng that wasn’t likely to ever change because they both held grudges.

“Treatises exist regarding the link between emotion and qi disruption, particularly in developing cores,” Lan Zhan said instead, his way of asking gently for information.

“It’s troublesome; just things from before, things I never had a chance to think about because things got messy.”

The end of his first life had involved the Siege of the Burial Mounds and being ripped apart by fierce corpses, after all, and there were large holes in his memory, spans of time that were missing, when he knew time was passing and the world kept moving, but he had no recollection of any of it and he didn’t even know how to begin to find the words to discuss it, as much as he talked.

“Water can carry a boat and also overturn it,” Lan Zhan said.

Though Xunzi intended the sentiment to refer to the need for rulers to consider the needs of the people, Wei Wuxian could see how it applied—he couldn’t ignore his own needs anymore without capsizing.

“That’s why I left to travel, kind of, but I can’t do that dodging assassins.”

Nie Hengxiang had been following him for some time, and he had no doubt he’d witnessed Wei Wuxian struggle—he had difficult nights thinking about Shijie and Wen Qing, other ghosts from the past, unable to keep from poring over his own memories of the last few months of his first life, and at least one difficult night he had gotten ahold of some Lotus Breeze and had been lost in grief. It was a minor miracle that the young man hadn’t been scared off, but the Unclean Realm had already had to clean up after him, and he knew at some point he’d feel stifled, and he wouldn’t be able to leave until the assassination issue was dealt with.

Or, more realistically, others would fuss if he even tried, and it was only a matter of time before he wound up blowing up his workroom out of sheer boredom, at least once the Nie puzzle was solved.

“I will speak with Nie-zongzhu,” Lan Zhan promised.

Wei Wuxian was filled with affection. All his life, or lives, he had fallen and, with no one to catch him. He’d lost his fear of falling long ago, but hitting the ground hurt. If someone was there to catch him…

Lan Zhan had made it a point to stay by his side after his return, and had tried to before he’d died, when Wei Wuxian hadn’t let him. In this life, he had quietly offered unwavering support, even carried him. Now Lan Zhan had again flown to his side as though to catch him, offering the sort of soft landing he craved.

Impossible as it seemed, Wei Wuxian wanted nothing more than to never be apart from him again.

“Nie-xiong has it in hand, I’m sure.”

He knew Nie Huaisang likely would deal with the issue of stopping whoever was sending the assassins in whatever way he saw fit, and he knew better than to request details from him. Wei Wuxian would prefer not to know, and tried not to feel guilt at the same time—Nie Huaisang was capable of much, probably as much as he was toward the end of his first life, but perhaps less foolish about it, and he had enough blood on his own hands. Where ignorance was bliss, it was folly to be wise.

“I’m still trying to make sense of what I do remember, and it turns out my memory is poor.”

Lan Zhan leveled him with a flat look that made him laugh; after all, he had boasted of his memory, and yet it had taken him most of their travels to remember where he had heard the song. He was still owed its title.

“I know. My memory has always been poor, like I have only one hazy memory of my parents and the donkey.”

“Little Apple?”

Wei Wuxian smiled fondly at his zhiji; who else would make that sort of connection?

He’d planned at first to night hunt his way out of jianghu, never to return, and when he saw Little Apple it was such an odd convergence with the beginning of his last life, just seemed right to take her. Clearly her owner, who left her saddled and tethered on the street in the middle of the night, didn’t appreciate her, and he liked to think he’d at least given her a more interesting life.

Though he hadn’t managed to leave the jianghu, Wei Wuxian wasn’t sorry. Lan Zhan leading while he rode Little Apple was a little like that snippet of memory, and many times their quest he was struck by the odd parallels, wondering what they meant, but he’d figured it out finally—for all his loss of family, he had Lan Zhan.

“I have holes in my memories of my last life, it seems, and it got worse especially toward the end—Nightless City but not how I got back to the Burial Mounds, and very little of the months before the Siege.”

Lan Zhan’s focus on him sharpened abruptly, and Wei Wuxian distracted himself from his nerves by pouring them both tea, the medicinal blend bitter but in line with the fare at the Cloud Recesses. He also poured dried seasoned mushrooms from the fresh bag the servants had left on the table for him.

“I returned you to the Burial Mounds,” Lan Zhan said.

Wei Wuxian nearly dropped the plate, startled by the admission, and he could do little more than stare at him. The memory of the scars on his back, discovered not long after his return, rose unbidden, and he felt ill at the knowledge that this was likely the reason for them. And then he’d gone and died despite Lan Zhan’s efforts, leaving him to heal from what had looked like an obscene number of lashes while grieving.

Likely it was more complicated; surely Lan Qiren wouldn’t have him whipped so viciously for so little. But Wei Wuxian wouldn’t ask, knowing he would share the details if he wished, partly because he was afraid to know. He wanted to say Lan Zhan shouldn’t have, but he knew that would belittle his sacrifice, even if he felt strongly that he hadn’t been worth it.

He’d known he was headed inexorably toward death, and he hadn’t meant to drag someone as bright as Lan Zhan with him into the dark. He’d tried to push him away so he wouldn’t be caught up in the fallout, but he was too good, would never abandon him willingly.

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember,” he said finally, tracing the rim of his teacup with one finger.

“No apologies or thank yous between us,” Lan Zhan reminded him.

They had agreed to that before Wei Wuxian knew how much he had hurt Lan Zhan, how much he needed to make up for. He remembered telling Jin Ling that someday he would wind up saying both through tears, then remembering Wen Qing’s final words to him as he lay paralyzed in the Burial Mounds.

“I thought you wanted me to go with you to Gusu for punishment,” he said heavily, an apology. “I wasn’t really thinking rationally.”

A part of him had thought he deserved it, for daring to manipulate resentful energy, for daring to survive the Burial Mounds no matter what the cost. Mostly he had just expected censure from the jianghu, and hadn’t figured on surviving the war; waking up several days after the final battle had been a somewhat unwelcome surprise, and Lan Zhan’s entrance and insistence on trying to help him by playing the guqin, regardless of how fruitless it was, had been a welcome, if bittersweet, distraction.

“I know you wanted to help, now, but while everything was happening…”

Wei Wuxian sighed, not sure how to broach the subject even after time thinking about it, and he delayed further by taking a sip of the ridiculously bitter medicinal tea, unable to keep himself from pulling a face at the taste.

“I couldn’t be your equal anymore, like fate without destiny,” he finally said.

He knew Lan Zhan would understand the romantic undertones of the phrase, though he felt like a coward for confessing in such a roundabout way, and moreso because he didn’t dare to look at him, particularly when Lan Zhan’s breath caught briefly.

“We have the destiny to meet across a thousand miles,” Lan Zhan murmured after a long moment, his voice rough, “and beyond death.”

The rejoinder, using another proverb about love, made Wei Wuxian look up, and the way Lan Zhan looked at him, the obvious love, pulled at his heart and undammed his mouth, bringing everything out in a rush.

“Lan Zhan, I have a poor memory, and I didn’t understand how I felt back then. You’re really great. I like you, or in other words, I fancy you, I love you, I want you, I can’t leave you, I whatever you. I want to night-hunt with you for the rest of my life. I don’t want anyone but you—it can’t be anyone but you—”

Wei Wuxian wasn’t able to let out another sound, as Lan Zhan pushed the table aside and embraced him tightly, pulling him to his feet and silencing him with his lips and tongue. Though he had always been a little weirded out by the idea of another person’s tongue in his mouth, with Lan Zhan he thought perhaps this was what he had craved all his life.

Breathlessly between lingering kisses, Lan Zhan repeated his words, and he could feel the intense beat of his heart, his own throbbing in his chest as well.

“I didn’t know,” Wei Wuxian said, letting a note of apology slip into his voice before he was silenced again by a more insistent kiss, Lan Zhan’s teeth biting his lip, surprising him with how good that felt.

Normally he would have felt trapped, pushed with his back against the wall, the heat of Lan Zhan’s body pressed along the front of him in a delicious counterbalance to the cool stone, but instead he felt almost absurdly safe. Lan Zhan tasted better than the finest wine—even Emperor’s Smile couldn’t hold a candle. He couldn’t wait to taste more of him.

“Ah, you stole my first kiss,” he panted when they broke for breath. “Take accountability.”

“Gladly,” Lan Zhan huffed, claiming his lips again and shifting against him in a way that pushed something hot and unmistakable against his belly, large enough to feel clearly through all the layers of robes, and his own cock jolted in response.

He had thought Nie Huaisang’s porn had been overestimating, but instead Lan Zhan was even more well-endowed than the artist had assumed.

“You’re so big—how is that supposed to fit?” he gasped as Lan Zhan moved to suck on his neck, leaving his mouth free, and the comment was clearly well-received. “Ah, how is it getting bigger?! Lan Zha—”

Lan Zhan swallowed any further words, though Wei Wuxian happily made other use of his tongue and kept up a litany of filthy comments whenever his mouth was free, enjoying the way it made him even harder.

They didn’t make it to the bed, yanking each other’s clothing half off, desperately rutting in the friction of their robes, eventually both of them in Lan Zhan’s hand, making a mess of each other in the best way.

When his knees went weak in the aftermath of his orgasm, Lan Zhan carried him to the bed and worked to rid them of their clothes, his cock already at attention again. He looked like carved jade, his skin smooth and glistening with sweat from their exertions, though Wei Wuxian knew if he turned the whip scars would be visible.

The Wen brand on his chest, in the exact location his had been in his first life, engulfed his attention, and he couldn’t stop himself from reaching forward to trace the shape with his finger.

“Is this related to me, too?” he couldn’t help but ask, acutely aware that the other scars Lan Zhan bore were on his behalf.

“Nothing. I was drunk,” Lan Zhan responded after a moment of silence, and then surged forward, pushing him back on the bed and caging his body with his own.

Wei Wuxian was suitably distracted when he learned Lan Zhan didn’t know about the use of oil, and quickly educated him, both verbally and demonstrably, leaving both of them panting with arousal. The stretch hurt enough that he didn’t want to think of how it would have been without the oil.

When Lan Zhan was fully sheathed, pressing him into the bed with his weight, he shook slightly with the effort of staying still to let Wei Wuxian adjust to the pressure and heat, his cock throbbing with his heartbeat, and Wei Wuxian couldn’t help but laugh.

“Lan Zhan, what would your uncle think, doing this without being married! He’d surely drown you in a pig cage!”

“I have considered us wed since the Cold Spring cave,” Lan Zhan replied.

He didn’t give Wei Wuxian any time to process the statement before he began to thrust, the pace punching his breath from his lungs, a jolt of pleasure rippling across his body and down his spine unexpectedly.

Wei Wuxian’s brain took a moment to catch up, overwhelmed by sensation—Lan Zhan’s big hands gripping his ass as he pulled him into each thrust, his calloused fingers pressed into the flesh so hard they might leave bruises, the loud erotic slap of Lan Zhan’s thighs against his buttocks with each thrust a distraction, the growing heat between them.

The headband… Lan Yi… and the bow.

Of course he’d accidentally eloped with Lan Zhan back then, the most important moment in his life unknown to him. And so when he’d said Lan Zhan looked as though he was mourning a wife… it hadn’t been far off from the truth. Not that they’d ever consummated the marriage back then.

“We could’ve been doing this when we were fifteen?” Wei Wuxian squawked, outraged that so much time was wasted. “Ah, we should do this every day.”

Lan Zhan’s response was to increase the tempo, as though to make up for the lost time, and Wei Wuxian couldn’t help but tease him about when he first wanted to fuck him, making a game of listing the different times they could have been doing this during the lectures and beyond. He could feel himself spiraling with the waves of pleasure, begged Lan Zhan to slow down, wanting this to last longer.

“Ah, softer, it’s my first time. Be nice.”

Though he eased a bit, Wei Wuxian couldn’t help but tease him more, about how Lan Zhan could have Silenced him in the library so he couldn’t protest, and it was clear his words were stoking his lust, as the pace increased again.

By the time he came, Wei Wuxian had resorted to begging, and then Lan Zhan continued, fucking him through his orgasm and into an almost painful overstimulation, his body trying to come again even though his cock was already spent. His body twisted, moving without his will, and eventually a deep wave of undulating pleasure washed across him, leaving his limbs limp. Lan Zhan’s thrusts turned erratic and a hot wet warmth filled him as he came.

Wei Wuxian came back to himself when Lan Zhan lifted him from the bed and the warmth of the bath water enveloped him. He had to thank Nie Huaisang for his forethought, the warmth easing muscles that were unused to exertion but would surely build quickly.

They bathed languidly and then took advantage of the tub to fuck again, neither of them caring about the growing puddle around the tub, the suction of the water with each thrust too delicious to resist.

Lan Zhan, ever the gentleman, dried him with a strange sort of reverence, though perhaps not so strange if Wei Wuxian considered how long it had taken them to get here, two lifetimes, and then settled him at the table with a fresh pot of tea while he stripped the soiled bedding.

He thought it a waste, as they’d just soil them again later, but when Lan Zhan carried him to the bed he was happy they were fresh and soft against his skin. It was an entirely different sort of pleasure to sprawl with him naked across the bed, skin to skin in a different form of intimacy. Lan Zhan let him doze, simply holding him, and his nap was blessedly peaceful, as though his zhiji was a talisman against nightmares.

Later, when they eventually left the room for a much-needed dinner, they found a silencing talisman affixed to the door, a stack of them tucked into a parcel on the floor, a not-so-subtle message that made Lan Zhan’s ears turn red.

Surely a coincidence, none of the juniors, Nie or Lan, could look at them in the dining hall. Poor Lan Jingyi’s face was so flushed he looked like he’d been dunked in rouge, and Wei Wuxian amused himself talking to the teen, finding it fun to fluster him by just reminding him of his presence.

Nie Huaisang, on the other hand, looked ridiculously smug and he didn’t bother to hide it behind a fan.

Wei Wuxian had to concede he was very much entitled.

————

The phrase “fate without destiny” is often used when breaking up or ending a relationship, so Wei Wuxian is confessing he no longer felt he could be beside Lan Wangji. The first part of Lan Wangji’s response is also a proverb, though the last bit is added because he wants to make it clear his feelings have not lessened.

This is the end of this fic, but not the series. I’m not sure when I’ll start the next installment, as I’m participating in the WangXian Winter Solstice Gift Exchange again, and I have all the other in-progress fics to work on as well.

Writing has been slow lately. I’ve been put on a biologic injection for my autoimmune disease, and it’s helping but the help is painful right now. My brain is often really foggy, so I’ve been doing loom knitting when I can’t do anything else. I have a rheumatologist now and am being tested to find out if I have other coexisting autoimmune issues.

Personal life has also been pretty chaotic, which is also slowing my recovery. The sheer amount of drama my family can generate is a little amazing.

So mostly I’ve been writing when participating in Six Sentence Sunday and WIP Wednesday on Tumblr, slowly and deliberately, then fleshing out that when I’m able.

Thank you for your continued patience, and thank you adrian_kres for the beta!

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smells-like-mettaton · 2 years

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For day 1 of @sorielweek! The prompt was "Fire."

(Rating: T // Word Count: 1399)

Fire crackled in the hearth. There was always a fire, in Tori’s house. It might’ve been stifling to someone with a little more skin than him, but as it was, he just appreciated the white noise.

Orange noise? Eh, That joke would need some refining before he fired it at her. Heh.

Point was, there was no more peaceful spot, on the earth or under it, than the armchair in front of Tori’s fireplace.

The brown upholstery practically swallowed him, but that was a pro rather than a con. Papyrus couldn’t call him in to help with dinner if he couldn’t see him. Also, Tori found it adorable when he curled up to sleep between the arms of the chair. If he was lucky—and if she was convinced he was unconscious—she’d place a quick kiss on the top of his skull.

Tori was already in bed, now. Papyrus and the kid too. Sans had his own room in the combined skeleton-boss household, but the chair was comfier. The fire sounded like slippers crunching through the snow, or like the quiet popping of knuckles, or like teeth chewing undercooked spaghetti. Y’know. Comforting things.

In the fireplace, something popped. Eh, maybe that was a bit loud, but it wasn’t bad. Water balloons popped when he threw them at Undyne’s spiked fins. It was a solid noise. He’d give it seven out of ten stars.

Pop pop FWOOSH—the fire blazed hot and bright enough that Sans could feel it with his eyes closed.

He wiped a hand down his face, sitting up groggily.

The fire was spitting and shuddering, like Grillby when he had a cold.

…Did Tori have a cold?

Sans slipped off of the chair, slippers soft on the hardwood. The fire reached for him—flames licking at his ankles like that annoying dog. He jumped back and stomped his feet until the embers on his slippers were snuffed out.

Maybe he should bring Tori a glass of water?

One stop at the sink later, Sans clipped through Tori’s door.

He was promptly greeted with a fireball to the chest.

“C’mon, Tori.” He dumped the glass of water down his front. “That was my favorite shirt.”

It was hard to see past the cloud of steam, but he could hear her ragged breathing just fine.

“Sans?” she finally asked. “I am… oh, I am so sorry…”

Dang. Things must be bad if she was apologizing instead of teasing him about his shirt, which was identical to all of his other white shirts.

“‘S okay. I can borrow one of yours, right?” He stepped over to her closet.

Comforting wasn’t his strong suit. He didn’t fit in any suits, really. The shoulders were always too wide, and the ties were too long.

Tori’s black t-shirt was too long too, but at least it had a good joke on it. Stop staring at my mussels. A pile of clams were drawn in the middle.

“Whaddaya think?” He pretended to flex.

Papyrus had shown him how enough times, and he thought it was pretty convincing. Even if the ‘short sleeves’ covered him up to his forearms.

Tori let out a wet snort. She’d turned on the bedside lamp by now, so he could easily see the tears soaking her fur.

“It is… well, I suppose it could make a cute dress.” She smiled a little.

“Great. Dress means I don’t have to wear pants.” He grinned back.

Tori wiped her face, her paw steaming a bit as she did so. Oh, yeah.

“So, uh… any particular reason you’re even hotter than usual tonight?” he said before realizing how it would sound.

(Well.)

His gaze skirted away from the tank top strap slipping down her shoulder.

(He wasn’t wrong.)

She burst out in the roaring laugh that he loved.

“If you cannot handle the heat, you should get out of the kitchen.”

“Good thing I’m not in the kitchen, huh? Unless you’ve baked some pies in here I don’t know about…” He lifted up the edge of her purple comforter, pretending to look for baked goods.

Instead he was eye level with thick, ivory-furred legs. He might have stared a little longer than necessary.

“Hmm. Perhaps you should check this side.”

She scooped him up in one paw. His slippers fell to the carpet as she dropped him on the mattress beside her.

“Uh.” His ribcage felt warmer than when she’d thrown a fireball at it. “No pies here, either.”

“Oh, how disappointing.” She gave an exaggerated frown. “You are welcome to leave, then, if you would like.”

She leaned back, her left arm stretched across the pillow beside her. He knew her well enough to read the invitation.

“Nah. This is comfier than your chair.” He rested his skull in the crook of her elbow.

She was warm. She was always warm, but either she was hotter than usual, or… heh. Or it was all in his head.

Her smile was even softer than her arm.

“Thank you, Sans,” she said quietly. Sincerely. Another suit that he couldn’t fill.

“Hey, I’m the one who should be thanking you. For the armrest, I mean.” He patted her bicep, and she laughed.

“And for the shirt,” she added, smoothing her other paw over the front of it.

Each of his ribs tingled at her touch. He swore that she’d see them through the black of the shirt—each of them glowing with neon light, like cracked glowsticks.

“For the. Yeah.”

Her paw froze near the end of his sternum.

“Is this alright?”

The direct question caught him off guard. This wasn’t how they did things. They danced around anything solid, like their feet were on hot coals.

But she’d done the hard part. All he had to do was give a one-word response. He was great at those.

“Yeah,” he said, stupidly breathless for someone without lungs. “Yeah.”

Two words. One over par. That would count against him if they were playing golf.

She pulled him closer, nuzzling against his shoulder.

Oh.

“I suppose I must appear clingy tonight.” Her breath puffed warmly against his spine. “And I did not answer your question. About why I am ‘hot.’”

“Hotter than usual,” he corrected, and was rewarded with a laugh that rolled over him in gentle waves.

“It was a simple nightmare. Nothing I could not handle alone. However… the company does not hurt.”

“The company does hurt,” he joked, lifting up Tori’s shirt to reveal the hole seared into his beneath.

He’d expected her to laugh with him, but instead she looked away in embarrassment.

“That was irresponsible of me. As was my outburst with the hearth, before.”

Sans’s browbone furrowed.

“So you knew you were doing that? Messing with the fire?”

“Not consciously.” She sighed. “You are perceptive, Sans. Surely you have noticed that the flames are in tune with my emotions.”

He had. It was why he’d come to her room in the first place.

“This happened somewhat often when I was alone in the Ruins. Nightmares. Uncontrolled magic. I had thought that I was past this, but I still should have warned you. You always sleep so close to the fire.” She frowned.

“Yeah, well. It’s cozy. About the closest thing to sleeping with you.”

He snapped his jaw shut. He was like a glowstick, and all his stupid-fluid was leaking out.

But Tori smirked, before bringing her lips close to his collarbone.

“Is it, now?”

“Nah,” he corrected. “I’m pretty sure your chair doesn’t flirt with me.”

Because that was what they were doing, right? What they’d been doing for as long as he could remember. They slid into familiar banter like he slipped into his favorite slippers.

Tori giggled.

“Well, for tonight, at the very least, you will not have to settle for the chair.”

She kissed the bottom of his jaw.

“Goodnight, Sans.”

She tucked him under her chin, like he was a slightly-larger-than-average teddy bear. Her arm draped over his hips. Her knees scrunched up, brushing the soles of his feet. He could’ve been one of those plastic classroom skeletons, for how little he dared to move.

But soon her snores rumbled like the crackling fire. As if having Sans in her bed was the most normal thing in the world.

He smiled, adjusting himself to better curl into her.

(Maybe it could be.)

#sorielweek #sorielweek2022 #sans #toriel #soriel #tali writes

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duhragonball · 2 years

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Dragon Ball Super: Super Hero

Just got back from the theater so I’ll put some thoughts under the cut. It’s a good movie, so if you liked DBS Broly and Battle of Gods, you’ll probably dig this one too. But I’m sick of dancing around spoilers, so here we go...

Okay, so Cell Max.

Cell Max absolutely sucks, and I mean that as a compliment.

Ever since the Red Ribbon Army was revealed to be involved in this new movie, fans have been wondering if Cell might somehow show up. And really, I think fans have been expecting Cell ever since Frieza’s big comeback in 2015. Then Broly got his revamp in 2018, and Cell was just about the only big name they hadn’t brought back. Personally, I’ve dreaded a Cell comeback, because I think bringing Frieza back was a mistake, and repeating that mistake with Cell just makes him look second-rate, which defeats the purpose of bringing back a classic villain.

It made a lot more sense to me for the Red Ribbon to chart a new course, which is what Gamma 1 and 2 represent. From the RR perspective, Cell was a failure, no matter how powerful he might have been, so why go down that same road? And the early trailers for the movie seemed to support that way of thinking, but after the movie premiered in Japan, I started hearing rumblings about Cell. I would see spoiler images, but they looked fake as hell. Cell Max looks and sounds like a fan creation, so I couldn’t tell if I was seeing spoilers or a rumor borne from wishful thinking.

Gradually, I started to figure out that if Cell Max really was in the movie, then he seemed to be a weapon of last resort. He was big and dumb and probably uncontrollable, because they must have tried to build a second Cell and didn’t get it right. Which is pretty much exactly how it turned out in the movie. I think there was some implication that Cell Max would have been easier to control if they hadn’t activated him prematurely, so maybe he could have been superior to the original, but we’ll never know. As it is, Cell Max is the final boss of this movie, but he’s just a mindless brute for the good guys to wrassle after all the Red Ribbon guys are defeated.

And that works really well. The whole premise of the Red Ribbon Army in this movie is that they’re still trying to get revenge for past defeats, trying to find new ways to do the same old routine. Magenta is Commander Red’s son, and Dr. Hedo is Gero’s grandson, and they’re both trying to improve upon their predecessors. Magenta’s pharmaceutical company funded Dr. Gero’s vendetta in the Androids/Cell Saga, so I guess he must have had access to the data Gero used to create Cell, and he knew from the Cell Games that this creature was a game changer, so he wanted Hedo to make another Cell. But Hedo wasn’t all that interested in that project, preferring to get the job done with the Gammas. Hedo managed to make Cell Max stronger than the original Cell, but he’s also dumber and uncontrollable, so there’s some things Hedo could do that his grandfather couldn’t, and vice-versa.

So this whole time, I was worried about Toriyama bringing back Cell and missing the point of the character, and instead Toriyama wrote a story where the bad guys learn that lesson the hard way. Magenta just wanted an ultimate weapon, and in the end it destroyed everything he had built, because he didn’t understand what he was getting into. Whatever data he had on Cell must have been woefully incomplete, because the version he saw at the Cell Games was the result of decades of refinement by a supercomputer. But Magenta didn’t know about the time travel angle, so he probably assumed Gero made him in a few days’ time, and he expected Hedo to do the same.

I don’t know, it’s like Cell is this cursed magic spell, one that promises great power but at a terrible cost, and people like Magenta and Hedo use it without realizing the consequences. I like the idea that Gero’s notes are out there somewhere, and they offer just enough information to start homebrewing your own Cell, but not enough to finish. That’s just awesome lore.

In a lot of ways, this movie is like an apology for the Bio-Broly film from 1994. Dr. Hedo kind of looks like Lord Jaguar, and both characters learn an important lesson about cloning dead supervillains. The difference is that this movie didn’t advertise Cell and give us a defective knockoff. Instead they advertised the Gammas, and threw in Cell Max as a bonus, which goes down a lot smoother. Also, the side-plot with Goku training off-screen is a lot more satisfying in Super Hero than it was in Bio-Broly. I wouldn’t presume to know how Toriyama’s mind works, but it really does feel like he watched Bio-Broly and challenged himself to make a better version of that.

Also, if they ever did bring the real Cell back, this movie establishes some stuff they could potentially do with the guy. He’s got traits from Frieza, Goku, Vegeta, and Piccolo, so anytime those characters get an upgrade, it’s implied that he could use it too. Everybody was speculating about “Golden Cell” back when Resurrection F came out, but what about Orange Cell? Cell Beast? Black Cell? Whatever Vegeta was trying to achieve in that training scene? Cell could theoretically do the same. Oh, and it’s possible that Cell Max’s powers are all things the original Cell could achieve if he had time to figure it out.

Of course, it still comes back to the same problem. It’s easy enough to bring Cell back and have him fight everybody, but how do you come up with a fresh take on it? As much as I like the character, I don’t want a repeat of the Cell Saga with different color palettes on all the characters. Fortunately, Super Hero found a way to change up the formula, and it focuses on the story, rather than simply repeating old plotlines.

#dragon ball super super hero #spoilers

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forestwhisper3 · 2 years

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Finally finished catching up on One Piece and was starting to look into the stuff for the new movie when I found out about Uta.

Or more specifically, her fruit.

(Slight spoilers for One Piece Film: RED, so read on at your own discretion)

Seriously, why does this stuff keep happening? Why do I keep getting weirdly close with canon stuff? First with Peony in my pokemon fic, and now with this?

There’s a reason why I’ve tagged the picrew images of Ran with the fanfic name Crescendo. I was intending to give her a devil fruit. The Uta-Uta no Mi to be exact. And now this movie has Shanks’s daughter having it and I can’t decide whether to be weirded out that this fruit is associated so closely with him or upset that the idea for this fruit was used (seriously, with how many endless possibilities there are for devil fruits I still choose one that ends up in canon).

I actually sort of hit a few things with the fruit’s power too. The Wiki article says it can teleport peoples’ consciousness to a virtual space, where they can manipulate reality to their will and also control the real-world bodies of those trapped in it.

Before I found all this out, this was how I imagined the powers of the Uta-Uta no Mi. Granted, I was still working out the details, but this was what I had by the last time I worked on it (straight from my word document):

Uta Uta no mi- song fruit

Can produce effects with songs.

Stage 1: mood alteration

Stage 2: hypnotic effects/persuasion

Stage 3: control of the body (much like the dance island)

Awakened: Can hear the "song" (soul?) inside of living things; gains the ability to alter the world around them.

Pros: Wide variety of uses. Can affect large groups of people at the same time.

Cons: Limited by the imagination of the user and lyrics of the song. Can't affect the user, whether it's beneficial or not. User needs to be able to speak. Can be resisted if the one hearing it has a will stronger than the user's. The more powerful the effect intended, the more energy is used (i.e. things like drastically affecting the weather/environment or bringing someone back from the brink of death will significantly weaken her and she'll need some time to recover).

So...yeah. In a way, I sort of had similar ideas to what ended up being the actual powers of the Uta-Uta no Mi. I still kind of like mine better, so I still might end up going with that, but I guess it’s going to have to be non-canon now.

...And now I’m imagining that, in canon, Ran dies after Uta is born and Shanks gets ahold of her fruit to give to their daughter. Might make for a nice canon meets AU side story, at any rate.

Although I’m still on the fence of Uta being born in the fic. If I did the math correctly, Shanks would have been eighteen when she was conceived. While I did plan on him and Ran having a child, it wasn’t going to be until they were both a bit older than that. Plus, if Ran is there, then Uta won’t get the fruit and that makes the whole movie (which I still need to see) obsolete, right?

Anyway, I guess that’s about all I have to say on that. Thanks for listening to my half rant, half confused tangent. Here’s a short clip (still being refined) on how I planned on Ran getting the Uta-Uta no Mi:

========

"Is this-?"

"A devil fruit," Roger confirmed, his expression one of the most serious I'd ever seen from him. "I want you to have it."

"What-...What does it do?"

"It's the song-song fruit. Officially, there's not a lot known about it, but there are rumors..."

"Rumors?"

"That it could hold the key to life and death."

My eyes widened, and my heart was pounding frantically against my chest when I looked up at him. He nodded, and I felt tears flood my eyes.

"There's not enough time for me to figure out if it's true," Roger continued softly. "We both know my days are numbered. But you...I know you can do it. Look after them for me, Ran."

"Roger...I-I-..."

He smiled warmly. "I know."

Before I knew it, I had wrapped my arms around him, my hands clutching tightly to his shirt as sobbed into his chest.

"It's not fair!" I choked out. "Why-...why does it have to be you, Roger?! You should be able to see the future with us- to see the man your son becomes."

Roger returned the embrace, and it was only because he did that I was able to feel how shaky his next breath was.

"Will you tell me about him?"

Not all of it, I thought. He was in enough pain thinking about his own death- I didn't need to add anyone else's.

"His name will be Ace, and his greatest treasure will be those he calls his family."

========

Bonus clip- Shanks realizes/accepts his feelings and the seeds of them begin to grow in Ran (WIP):

"Shit! Ran!"

The panic in Captain's voice was the first sign that something was wrong.

The second was when she didn't immediately come up for air.

He didn't bother waiting for the third before he was tossing Cap- his hat aside and jumping over the ship's railing into the water below.

Shanks's first love was the sea. The beauty. The danger. The freedom. It called to him in a way that he knew he would never be able to settle down on land. But...there was something else that has slowly been claiming its own stakes in there too.

Or rather, someone.

He hadn't really noticed it- not at first, anyway. His first impression of her hadn't exactly been the greatest, though he could now admit that that was more his fault than hers. He'd just been upset at missing out on a party. But the more he spoke with her...the more he got to know her...

She was like the sea.

Full of mystery and adventure...

Kind to those who respected her and unforgiving to those who didn't...

...and so beautiful he could gaze at her for hours.

Even now, as she drifted unconsciously in the water, she was beautiful. Her pink hair, darkened to a coral hue, fanned around her like streams of silk, and her skin was like porcelain.

It was when he thought that not even a mermaid's beauty could compare to her at that moment that he finally accepted that he'd fallen. Hard.

However, it was only after he'd brought her back to the surface that it really hit him. The way his heart was still thundering in his chest from residual fear as she began to cough, the way his breath seemed to leave him as her eyes- sea blue eyes -focused on him with confusion, then realization.

"Shanks...you-"

"You okay?"

The question came out just as breathless as he felt holding her so close to him. She just stared for a long moment before she finally looked away.

"Y-Yeah."

========

Leave it to Shanks to wax poetic about the things he loves, ahaha. Anyway, hope you enjoyed the little clips. I feel a little better about this whole thing now that I’ve had the chance to vent a bit. I leave you now with a new picrew of Ran.

“Sorry for not saying it before, but thank you, Shanks. For saving me.”

*Shanks then proceeds to turn redder than his hair*

These two are going to be so flippin cute, I swear. I actually kind of want to start this fic now.

(Made with this picrew: https://picrew.me/image_maker/1705444)

...Later!

#Crescendo- fanfic #Portgas D. Ran- Crescendo #Shanks- Crescendo #Gol D. Roger- Crescendo #Thanks again for putting up with this long post #Really appreciate it #Couldn't add Ran's freckles to this picrew unfortunately #But pretend they're there

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raspberryconverse · 27 days

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Being an adult means being real with yourself about your finances.

A huge pain point in my marriage has been money (which is totally common in relationships). We bought an old house and have had to replace literally everything except the dishwasher, dryer and most of the plumbing. We had to have half the house rewired before we moved in because it only had 1 owner and had cloth wiring. The plumbing is galvanized steel and some of it was connected to copper (big no no: there's a chemical reaction that happens and causes leaks). We recently had to have our entire kitchen drain replaced for this and the plumber wouldn't reinstall the dishwasher until we had it checked for mold, another $600 on top of the $4000+ we already paid for the drain. We had mold behind some wood paneling that obviously couldn't be seen on inspection. New roof, furnace, AC. Our drain tile system was put in backwards and had to be replaced. There was a huge flood last summer and we had 8" of water in our basement.

Needless to say, it's been stressful and we haven't even been here 2 years. And expensive.

I have always been terrible with money. I never saw good spending habits growing up, so I've always had the mindset of "I can buy it now with my credit card. It's fine." I know, that's not fine. But that's what I've always done. Some of it was definitely out of survival during my post graduating during a recession life, but I never really stopped when I started making decent money.

Anyway, during the pandemic, I found this bank called Simple that has the envelope budgeting system built right in. It was fantastic! I paid down my debts, I brought up my credit score. I was able to refinance my car loan to nearly a 10% lower rate. It was fantastic. Then, it shut down.

There was another bank that was similar to it called Envel. Basically the same concept. And it continued to work for me, but like Simple, they shut down.

I finally moved to Ally because they have these new "spending buckets." They sounded exactly like what I had with Simple and Envel. Except they weren't. Simple and Envel would distribute your money every time you got paid and put the right amount in each "envelope." Ally just puts the money in like a day or 2 before the due date you put on the bucket. This is not helpful. Yes, I could go through and distribute my money, but I don't always remember to do it. So... I didn't really do it.

Things got out of control again. I'm not saving anything. I buying shit that I don't need to be buying. We have things that are coming due with the house (the AC is the big one). It's not good. And my spouse is really stressed about it. And I'm just really embarrassed.

So I'm filling out a chart with my credit cards and their balances, interest rates and minimum payments in addition to a personal budget worksheet and meeting with my financial advisor soon. Yes, I have one of those. A friend sung his praises on Facebook, so I thought it might be helpful. And it was. I mean, he did get me to buy a bunch of life insurance, but I can meet with him whenever to look over things. I also love that he's about my age and while he's a straight cis white guy, he works with people and couples of all types (the friend who mentioned on FB him is a lesbian and married). We met with him before we decided to buy the house to see if we could swing it.

I did find a budgeting app made by a former Simple user which is basically the same as the bank, so I think that's going to work, but I really need to just sit down with someone who's not going to judge me and take a look at everything so I can get things back on track. It's really hard to admit defeat. It's really embarrassing to not be able to tell your spouse that your personal finances are in trouble and you don't know what to do. But I'm gonna talk to Brett and he's going to help me figure it out. And it's gonna be ok.

#money problems #mo money mo problems #budget #budgeting #envelope budgeting #financial advisor #is this what marriage is?

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mrmallard · 1 month

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So I was just struck with a thought about Final Fantasy. I've been living and breathing Final Fantasy for months now, first with my FF13 posting and then with Kingdom Hearts, and then with playing FF13-2. I've also been catching up on the Snapcube playthrough of Final Fantasy 7 Remake as I grind in Old-School Runescape, and I'm literally on the last stream of the base game as I type this, so like I've been in the fuckin Final Fantasy trenches lately.

Here's the thought:

Final Fantasy can be divided into "ages" or "eras" pretty easily, and Final Fantasy 7 Remake is arguably the beginning of the current age of Final Fantasy. Furthermore, the third and final FF7R game - whenever the fuck that comes out, probably around 2028 or something - is probably going to be the capstone on this era of Final Fantasy.

I'm doing the classic conspiracy theory method of coming to a conclusion and working backwards, but hear me out.

Final Fantasy 1-3 are the Age of Innovation. FF1 comes out and does its thing, cribs a bit from Dragon Quest on one hand but innovates its own class system and magic and stuff on the other. Final Fantasy 2 comes out and it has this keyword feature where you can learn keywords and bring them up in conversation to advance the plot. It's a bit of a slog, and the levelling system has been overhauled so radically that one of the most efficient ways to grind is to have your characters beat each other up - it didn't stick. But it was an earnest attempt, and it was really interesting. FF3 was then the birthplace of Final Fantasy's job system, which FF5 and X-2 would run with.

Final Fantasy 4-6 is the Age of Refinement. The storylines of the first three games weren't... unambitious, per se, but Final Fantasy 4 kinda bumped it up a notch. You have this story of a dark knight who realises the error of his ways and decides to travel and better himself and is symbolically reborn, and you have this apprentice and this king, and there's a summoner character who the main guy is looking after - I haven't finished FF4, but the part I have played was very good.

FF5 takes FF3's job system and really fleshes it out. The plot is a bit breezy - unfairly maligned by people who want to shitpost about the main villain being a Soul Jar and a large ham - but it's an extremely fun play. Lots of job combos and character specialties and stuff.

And then you have FF6, which I can't speak about very much, but it's widely considered the pinnacle of the 16-bit era of RPGs. Huge, dynamic story, ambitious gameplay, dark themes - at least in America, Final Fantasy 6 was kind of this great marriage and refinement of everything that came before in the franchise.

And that kicks off what might arguably be the Golden Age of Final Fantasy.

Final Fantasy 7. Cutting edge graphics, a wealth of things to do and see spread over multiple discs, pushes the boundaries of video game storytelling. Final Fantasy 8 - takes the stocky little Lego men from FF7, turns them into fully detailed, proportionate and fleshed out people and renders an awesome video game weapon that never quite caught on as much as the Buster Sword. People complain about junctioning, and I can't say anything about that, but comparing FF7 and FF8 graphically is night and day.

Final Fantasy 9 then takes the improvements in modelling, texturing and proportion - and it uses it to render a fully realised steam-fantasy world full of hulking knights and skittering mice children, big angry antlions and small, hopping frogs. The 3D games went from little stock approximations of people, to realistically rendered and proportioned human characters, to a wide menagerie of characters from different species, of different heights and builds, textured as well as possible to convey one of the .ost ambitious fantasy worlds in video games up to a point.

Final Fantasy X, warts and all, represents the end of that golden age in my opinion.

It was the final game in the series to be developed by Squaresoft before they merged with Enix. Hironobu Sakaguchi was credited on Final Fantasy games up to X-2 as a producer, though I think he left the company before FF11 came out - I think X was the final game he was involved with from start to finish. And it's an interesting mix of old and new - this is one of the few games not to use an Active Time Battle system, using turn-order instead, but the technology was a step beyond the pre-rendered backgrounds and text-only dialogue of the PS1 trilogy. The setting is also notably unique; I think it's visually based on the Philippines, as opposed to like a steampunk fantasy setting or grim dystopian cyberpunk.

Final Fantasy 11 and 12, imo, is kind of like an Age of Expansion. This is where Final Fantasy began to really transcend what a Final Fantasy product could be. There had been spinoffs like Chocobo's Mystery Dungeon, Chocobo GP and Mystic Quest, as well as stuff like the SaGa games on Game Boy that were localised as Final Fantasy Adventure - and shit, you had an anime OVA based on FF5 and a blockbuster movie which bombed at the box office - but to bring that into the main series for the first time, Final Fantasy 11 was a fucking MMORPG. That was... well, maybe not unheard of given Ultima Online, but it was certainly a bold move to take, especially chasing the success of World of Warcraft.

Final Fantasy 12, to my understanding, takes the sort of tone and ambition of a game like Final Fantasy Tactics and combines it with state of the art gameplay systems that were unlike just about anything that was on the market at the time. And even the spinoffs of the time were especially weird and ambitious, like Crystal Chronicles on the Gamecube. This was also where Square Enix began to publish sequels to older properties like Final Fantasy 4 and 10 - the franchise was expanding and testing the boundaries of the franchise, almost aggressively so.

Final Fantasy 13 then began one of the most notorious flop eras in gaming history.

In hindsight, this era of the franchise was moreso defined by growing pains. The jump from the 6th gen to the 7th was pretty huge across the board, and this is where a lot of Japanese gaming giants had a ton of trouble on console hardware. Capcom had a dogshit generation on the PS3, for example - it wasn't just Square Enix.

But the next step in the main franchise, Final Fantasy 13, was struck by bloat and ambition. They built a whole new engine for the game which cost millions of dollars, and it had a lot of shortcomings - you couldn't really render large, populated areas without slowdown, not on the scale that current-gen hardware kind of demanded in that exponential-improvement kind of way, and the development was beset by logistical issues - my understanding is that at one point the team entertained the idea of making Vanille the main character, but they'd already released the announcement trailer with Lightning at the forefront so they were hamstrung by that creative decision.

This was the period where Square Enix execs began saying stuff like "turn-based combat is dead, players don't want that any more, we want to pivot towards more action-driven combat that provides more immediate feedback to the player". And even then it felt kind of like a desperate pivot to further dig their heels in and double down on FF13's differences - even moreso after games like Persona 5 proved that there was still a ravenous, fanatical fanbase for turn-based combat, and that those types of RPGs were still popular and profitable - but this aspect of the corporate narrative would end up staying the course and defining the next era of Final Fantasy.

The game looked gorgeous, but the resulting release caused such a crisis that instead of moving forward on the other two Fabula Nova Crystallis games - Final Fantasy Versus XIII and Final Fantasy Agito XIII - the core creative team would desperately pivot into a trilogy of games that continued the narrative of FF13, basically trying to iterate on it until it was fixed.

Instead of a thematic trilogy of Fabula Nova Crystallis games, they had a literal trilogy of XIII games, a loosely connected instalment on the PSP that kind of carried the spirit of the original series plan, and a hotly anticipated game - Nomura's baby - that had been in development hell for almost ten years straight. That game would be completely divorced from the Fabula Nova Crystallis series and released as Final Fantasy 15, helmed by a new director and buoyed by an entire self-contained multimedia franchise unto itself, which subsequently had a rough launch and was iterated on with DLC for years until the director quit. At which point Square cut their losses, cancelled the rest of the DLC and released a book to tie up the material that never got released.

And like FF13 and FF15 had its fans, and they ended up being pretty okay in the end. I know someone who adores FF15 and its cast. I have a lot to say, positive and negative, about FF13 and 13-2 - I really love FF13-2, actually, and I'll defend the writing of the first game pretty voraciously if prompted.

But with all that said, I haven't even mentioned Final Fantasy 14 yet. And I'm going to keep it short by tying Final Fantasy 14 into the ethos of this era of Final Fantasy. It is a microcosm of this entire era of the franchise.

Final Fantasy 14 launched as an ambitious, user-unfriendly BOMB.

The developers weren't great at communicating with the playerbase. I think the graphical requirements were pretty high, so a lot of people couldn't play it, and players who COULD play it didn't particularly like it. People stuck with it, but it was a dead game being outpaced by its own predecessor in Final Fantasy 11 and it was something of a millstone around Square Enix's neck.

Final Fantasy 14 went from being one of the worst reviewed, worst selling, worst regarded Final Fantasy games - and a real turd of an MMO to boot - to being one of the most successful, most celebrated and most well-regarded MMORPGs ever.

And it got there by TEARING THE OLD SHIT DOWN A D REBUILDING IT FROM SCRATCH.

Square Enix did that at great cost, relying on the word of a young upstart named Naoki Yoshida, and pulled one of the biggest hail maries in video game history.

And that kind of sums up FF13 and FF15.

Final Fantasy 13 was a rough game. The team decided to make a direct sequel in Final Fantasy XIII-2, and then another one in Lightning Returns, to salvage the engine they used and to try and bank on the momentum of its narrative and characters for the entire generation of video games.

Final Fantasy 15 launched in a rough state. They spent YEARS patching that game, releasing DLC (free and paid) and banking on it as a franchise unto itself.

Neither of them succeeded as much as FF14 did, but they managed to eke out their own niches. Square Enix spent almost ten years iterating, polishing, salvaging. I maintain that this era was extremely fucking rough to maintain or justify, but it did lead us to the big moneymaker - Final Fantasy 7 Remake.

So far I've argued for five different "ages" or "eras" of the Final Fantasy franchise. We've had Innovation and Refinement leading into a Golden Age, leading into a rapid Expansion and being stymied somewhat by... well, let's call FF13 to FF15 the Iteration Age, because "Clusterfuck Age" isn't kind. The games were extremely rough, so they were ultimately saved through iteration.

Final Fantasy 7 Remake aimed to evoke the Golden Age of Final Fantasy while refining the gameplay that had defined the Iteration Age of Final Fantasy.

The mindset behind Final Fantasy 13's combat is that turn-based combat was a dying genre, and the executives wanted to move the brand forward into more action-based combat that would grant the player more immediate feedback. That game used a simplified ATB system, bolstered by a Paradigm Shift system which kept the player on their toes. Final Fantasy 15 had more of an action RPG bent to it, but it was hit and miss - I tried it once, and I couldn't get into it.

Final Fantasy 7 Remake finally signalled the franchise's shift into hard Action RPG combat. It still relied on classic RPG menu mechanics, but this is where you had that immediate feedback they were talking about back in 2010.

The game had a stagger gauge, just like Final Fantasy 13. It had free-wheeling action combat, just like Final Fantasy 15. And it catered HARD to the lofty, lofty expectations that diehard FF7 fans had developed over the years, carting over as much of that Golden Age appeal as they could and welding it to the highest triple-A standard they could.

It was aesthetically based in the old aspects of the franchise. But its core mechanics stemmed entirely from the franchise post-FF13.

That momentum continued with Final Fantasy 16, which was straight-up an action RPG helmed by the gameplay director of Devil May Cry 5. And we now have the second game in the Final Fantasy 7 Remake series, taking the more menu-based approach of FF7R and expanding it to an entire fuck-off overworld map on 2 PS5 discs. It's a part of a trilogy, but Remake was fleshed out into its own unique, standalone entity, and Rebirth - as a sequel and continuation of that game - takes the expansion of Remake and takes it in a new, crazily ambitious direction: marrying the PS1 era Final Fantasy overworld map with modern open-world gameplay.

It being a sequel isn't reactive like Final Fantasy 13-2 and Lightning Returns was. I mean, as an adaptation of the same source material as the first Remake game, it kind of can't be reactive in that way. I dunno, I'm tired as shit. But I still think despite that, there's a clear difference between 13's mad struggle to salvage itself and the way that the 7R games have been coming out. The iteration is still there, but it's in more of the way that FF7 became FF8 which became FF9, more than how FF13 became FF13-2 into LR:FF13.

That might be giving the FF7R games way too much credit. The way FF7 became FF9 is a way different story to how Remake became Rebirth. But my point is that 7 Remake kind of represents the series finding its footing, with later games - including the latest mainline Final Fantasy game - kind of following in its stead.

It's building a brand new ship based on the previous ship, using what worked in the previous ship while discarding the old. The stretch between FF11 and FF13 was like trying to take an old ship and turn it into a speedboat, and it kiiiiiiiinda worked - but man, it was not an ideal way to sail.

Final Fantasy 7 Remake takes what Final Fantasy 13 started - in spirit, ala moving away from turn-based combat, as well as in function, ala the stagger bar. It's coached in the distant past, but it's built on the bones of the immediate past. And it managed to marry the best aspects of the two.

To strain this already labored metaphor - Final Fantasy 7 Remake retains the form of what it's adapting. It relies on how it looks and how it conveys that air to appeal to an audience.

But it keeps that audience, and any newer audience members, engaged with modern function.

So Final Fantasy 7 Remake keeps everything you love about an old ship. But it never gave up on being a speedboat, as roughly as that worked out the last couple times, and now they've spend thousands of man-hours working out the kinks? This ship has the functionality of a speedboat. Or at least, it offers what people love about speedboats without compromising the image of a ship that people have in their minds.

Look I know that's nonsense, it's almost 5am and I'm tired. Let me wrap this all up.

I wouldn't be able to name this "era" of Final Fantasy, but I know that FF7R signalled the start of a new era for the franchise. We went from humble innovation, to the refinement of those innovated concepts, to a point where the core iterated experience could be taken significantly further than expected in scope. That gave way to a period of technological exploration and a pushing of boundaries and norms, shifting into something of a stubborn decline born of impotent overambition, before the series was finally able to meet its loftiest standards and make good on the decade's worth of promises they started off with.

All I can say for sure is that the same way FF1 signalled what this franchise would become, the way that FF4 refined the best aspects of those first three games and defined the strengths of the franchise going forward, the way FF7 expanded the scope of the world-building and presentation to unseen heights, the way FF11 toyed with what a mainline Final Fantasy game could even be and the way FF13 showed how much you could bungle a mainline release and subsequently salvage it if you try hard enough - and how every game between those keystone releases managed to iterate on and expand on what that initial keystone release did, for better or for worse - Final Fantasy 7 Remake signalled the start of a new cycle of Final Fantasy games. I've tried to explain what I mean, but at the end of the day, that's all I've got.

And the reason why this was significant in the first place when I started writing it is because I was just thinking.

What then?

What happens after the last Final Fantasy 7 Remake game?

What do the 2030's look like for Final Fantasy?

Where is there left to go?

I think the future comes from devs like Naoki Yoshida, the dude who managed to finagle Final Fantasy 14 out of being one of the worst MMOs of its era to being one of the best MMOs of all time.

I think FF7R3 will probably have to mark a changing of the guard, and a bold push forward into the unknown. A new setting, a new standard, breathing new life into a broadly iterative franchise that's mostly relied on the scraps of the past for the last 14 years.

Those scraps have fed some fantastic video games, but I feel like it has to build to a big finale and the next era has to work to define itself. Fuck it, let's get weird. Let's get a Final Fantasy with prominent aliens. Let's get a whole hero's journey in the vein of a Very Specific Video Game I'm Referencing, and have it so you're some random dude who has to get a thing to save your planet or your people, but by the time you return to rescue your people, you're so fundamentally changed that you can't stay there with them any more. That hasn't been done in a hot second.

And I say stuff like that because Yoshi-P's revamp of FF14 was the exact shot in the arm that Square Enix needed. His success in assembling a team to rebuild that game from scratch, and then subsequently becoming the figurehead for one of the most successful Final Fantasy titles ever, partially comes from being new blood to the franchise. He liked it enough and was familiar with it, but he was working on Dragon Quest when he was asked for his opinion on FF14. Final Fantasy 16 was a bold, mature step in a new direction that ended up being hampered by an arbitrary lock to a single platform. It was new - referential as always, but refreshingly new.

We're seeing just how far old concepts can be stretched. But when that's over, when that pet project ends, what's next?

I want to see what a new generation of devs - in proximity to the Final Fantasy franchise, not necessarily in experience - brings to the table. I want to see the next Final Fantasy 14: A Realm Reborn, not the next Final Fantasy 7 Remake.

And 7R is fantastic - I'm loving my 7R experience. But there's one more Remake game coming out. Maybe one more mainline instalment between then and now, if we're lucky. And I think that will bring this era of Final Fantasy to a close.

So what does that mean for the next era of Final Fantasy?

Personally? I want to see ambitious new talent take their crack at making their own Final Fantasy 7 - bringing this innovated technology into its own - instead of remaking a shiny new FF7 Remake. I'm definitely not asking for a new Fabula Nova Crystallis situation, that was a multi-car pile-up, but I am thinking about a future for Final Fantasy that is actually a Future.

Man I'm going to bed, sorry for the long post.

#long post #final fantasy #essay

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