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#but I think its necessary to really break characters down if you want to rebuild them
shewolf-sinclair · 1 year
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Why wenvier works really well as a ship: the season ended with their relationship being uncertain. (read disclaimer at the end)
The entire first season of the show Wednesday and Xavier are constantly pushing and pulling, fighting and then getting along, and then fighting again and then getting along again. finally Wednesday put Xavier in jail and he was like you know what that’s it. I’m fed up of your toxic behavior, a perfectly reasonable thing to say, given the situation he was in.
However, he goes to save her with the arrow anyway, because deep down he still cares, and likely realizes it truly wasn’t personal and she was doing what she believed right/necessary to stop the evil. after all, she did come to him and try to break him out when she realized she was wrong. she tried to right her wrongs. Obviously, he had no obligation to forgive her, which is why he didn’t - right away anyways. He eventually came to understand her perspective, and decided it was worth an ounce of forgiveness. He thought it was at least not letting her die. She obviously cares as well, seeing as she took the arrow for him.
Finally we have their last scene together. He gives her a phone. he wants to in touch with a break and has hopes of rebuilding an ounce relationship. It’s likely that he hopes to be able to fully forgive her in this time. However, there are still likely be some tension between the two when they come back for the next semester.
This is what makes the prospect of them being in a relationship so interesting.
Wednesday and Tyler got along right away. They had their thing and it was fast, and ultimately ruined by Tyler being outed as the Hyde. And as much as I like wyler, it was somewhat rushed and in some ways it was too easy. This ship has potential, but only if Tyler’s character is taken in a very specific direction in season 2. (Wheras wenvier could work with almost any direction Xavier’s character may be taken in.)
Wednesday and Enid also got along immediately. Obviously, they did have their tension between the two of them. It took them a little while to understand each other, and they even have that huge fight in episode six and seven. Ultimately, I believe this relationship works better platonically seeing as everybody needs a best friend and if the two of them started to become romantically involved Wednesday wouldn’t have that best friend to fall back on. while Wednesday and Eugene are friends they’re certainly not besties. It’s much more paternal. Enid and Wednesday have a very special relationship where the dynamic would change and potentially be ruined if it was the time romantic. Wenclair honestly seems forced to me.
this brings us to our third option Wednesday and Xavier. This ship has potential to develop overtime without being forced or rushed. It would come as a result of character development for both Wednesday and Xavier. Something all characters need, a show without active character development has a flat storyline and it’s ultimately boring. Especially when the character lacking in development is the protagonist. It will be really interesting to see just how their relationship develops, from rocky and tense to something stable enough to cal a friendship and perhaps more. They both need to grow as people before either one can consider romance with anyone, and it’d be cool to see them happening to grow together. Now of course their relationship will still have its bad moments, progress isn’t ever linear, and in this situation linear progression is boring anyways. But that’s what I’m looking forward to; just watching it play out.
(P.S. as mentioned above and everywhere else on my blog I am also a huge wyler fan, so please don’t think I’m dissing that ship. This post isn’t about which ship I like overall, but simply which would be more interesting to watch unfold in the future. Where it stands I don’t like canon wenvier, because it’s missing the necessary development discussed in this post. Also, while I personally don’t ship wenclair I’m not dissing it either, it’s a valid ship it’s just not one I agree with.)
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sheepydraws · 3 years
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I've been chewing on the fact that not one good thing happened in the finale.
Not one good thing.
Even Winter becoming the Winter Maiden and Ironwood dying were done in the most upsetting, least cathartic ways possible.
This isn't me complaining-I like a story kicking me in the ribs if I believe it will turn out okay, and in RWBY it largely does-I just think it's interesting that the decision was to go so low.
I expected at least one ray of hope in the finale. A clear hint about where RWBY has gone, a character finding some sort of proof that RWBY isn't dead-Hell, I fully expected CFVY and SSSN to ride in and smash some grimm like at the end of season 2!
Well, do you know when people decide to take a journey through the underworld?
At their absolute lowest point.
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trekwiz · 2 years
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Consider: The Borg, but written today.
A lot of who and what the Borg are doesn't really hold up to our understanding of what technology can do, today. And some of their behavior is out of character from their basic traits, based on current technology.
For example, it's a bit odd that assimilation is associated with becoming more machine. They want to incorporate the biological and technological distinctiveness of others: wouldn't it make more sense to utilize that distinctiveness instead of hide it behind clunky mechanical augments?
I think Terminator 2 shows how that would work. Nanites are the power behind the Borg. And one of their underlying values is adaptation. But what is a truer expression of adaptation: unique, permanent niche augmentations for a drone, or a drone that could be adjusted to fit any niche with effective, temporary modifications?
Need a scout? Temporarily build better eyes and legs. Scout is pushed into combat? Rearrange a few nanites and get stronger arms instead; and form a mini shield generator, too, right in the stomach that isn't needed at this moment. Combat's done and you need to retrieve local resources? Break down those augments and turn the arm into a mining laser.
Certainly they would have assimilated technology about war and spying. They would already know that a drone covered in machines would frighten new assimilation targets; they know it would decrease the chance of successful assimilation of the species. They'd know that at the first assimilation of that species.
But what about a drone that just looks like a person? The augments are all under the skin. Nanites ready to re-shape it. That drone can "go home" and stealthily assimilate the society's leaders. How would the targets know they were infiltrated? They could even start assimilating computer systems immediately.
Efficient, effective, minimum loss of resources, maximum gain. The knowledge of those who die in a brute force attack is lost; they can't assimilate it. Consider: the would-be inventor of warp drive dies as a soldier defending their world. Why would a species that has assimilated the war philosophies and technologies of thousands of civilizations make such a basic mistake?
For computers, they wouldn't need the visual cues of assimilation. They could just network the functioning across nanites. They already can transmit data across long distances, so why build a complex, permanent antenna? Let the nanites do their jobs. Leaders assimilated? Nanites traveling across a planet's computer systems unseen, easily assimilating a whole population in the speed of travel. No resistance. And no lost resources in the process.
Letting a few drones die just to find a new way to brute force the enemy isn't really "adaptability." I think that lack of regard for the individual would show in a very different way: there's no reason they can't break down the individual into goo and rebuild it. (Terminator 2.) They wouldn't care if the individual is dead and it's technically a clone. The life was meaningless; its form and what it can do is what's meaningful.
They have good reason to operate that way. If the drone is just another resource, why waste it? Put it, and the knowledge you've assimilated, to use. A machine that can change shield frequencies after a few lost drones is wasteful. A drone that could avoid the hit by using centuries of martial knowledge in an instant, while analyzing more details about their opponent, and potentially beating them in the same process? Terrifying efficiency.
With nanites being the core of this new Borg, they likely wouldn't have a queen. They wouldn't need one. Decentralization would be their strength. Every drone is a queen. Every queen is a drone. What they need, when they need it. Only as long as it's necessary. The totality of their being shared by every nanite.
How could you even start to fight an enemy like that?
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bevioletskies · 3 years
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(i’m caught between) goodbye and i love you
summary: Sometimes, Klavier thinks a little too much about how he never knew the last time he saw Apollo was going to be the last time he saw Apollo. So, when Apollo finally returns home from Khura’in, Klavier finds himself stuck, unsure of when to finally tell Apollo how he feels - especially when it seems like Apollo isn’t quite ready to confess, either.
word count: 16.9k | read on ao3
a/n: For @klapollo-week, day seven of seven (prompt: "catharsis"). All seven of my fics take place in the same continuity! However, each can be read as a stand-alone, with the exception of day seven being a sequel to day five.
Mild spoiler warning for Spirit of Justice; warning for brief mentions of alcohol and one scene where a character has a panic attack. Fic title is from the song (I'm Caught Between) Goodbye And I Love You by the Carpenters.
“What do you think, Gavin, which do you - hey, Gavin? Are you listening?”
Klavier startled at the sound of Apollo’s voice, too lost in his own thoughts to realize someone had been talking to him. He looked over at Apollo, who was standing underneath one of the courthouse’s most prolific picture windows, practically glowing in the early afternoon sun. Klavier’s breath hitched at the sight. “Ah - my apologies, Herr Forehead, I didn’t catch that. What were you saying?”
“Ema said we should all do something that doesn’t involve murder for once.” Apollo looked up from his phone, wincing. “Er, that is, something that doesn’t involve solving a murder for once. She suggested drinks, though Kay apparently prefers laser tag. As if I don't get enough bumps and bruises from helping Trucy out on weekends.”
“Ah, the life of a magician’s brother,” Klavier teased, smiling easily. “But, wait - do you mean to say Fräulein Detective actually wants to hang out with me? Or are you inviting me? Either way, I find it hard to believe.”
“No one’s more surprised than me,” Apollo drawled. “But seriously, Ema says Kay is making her ask you through me, ‘cos that totally makes sense. Anyway, drinks or laser tag? Or, y’know, both? They’re thinking this weekend since they’re going to some forensics convention next weekend. Did not know those existed. Do you think they give out swag bags full of fingerprint powder?”
“I would advise against it if they did,” Klavier said, chuckling. He then slipped his hands into his pockets, shooting Apollo an apologetic grimace. “Sorry, Forehead, you’ll have to have a good time without me. I have a dentist appointment, some meetings...you know how it is. Maybe next time, ja?”
“Sure, I’ll let you know whenever that is,” Apollo replied with a nonchalant shrug; he sent a quick text, presumably to Ema, then pocketed his phone. “Anyway, I should go find Mr. Wright and head back to the agency. So, uh...see you when I see you, I guess.”
“Auf Wiedersehen, baby,” Klavier said, winking. Apollo rolled his eyes, turning on his heel and striding away, waving Klavier off over his shoulder. “Don’t have too good a time without me, though, ja?” Apollo’s wave instantly turned into a middle finger.
Barely two weeks later, Klavier found himself replaying the rather mundane conversation in his head over and over again as he walked into his superior’s office, his hands shoved into his pockets to hide how hard they were shaking. “Willkommen zurück, Herr Edgeworth. How was your flight? Smooth, I hope.”
“Smoother than what conspired in Khura’in, to be sure,” Edgeworth replied, neatly setting his teacup down in its saucer. “Don’t worry, Prosecutor Gavin, I’m still getting everything in order. I doubt you’ll have much work to do today, bar any last-minute cases coming in.”
“Danke, sir, good to know.” Klavier glanced briefly in the direction of Edgeworth’s custom chessboard, his red knights and blue pawns, just so he wouldn’t have to look at its owner’s steely gaze. “So, er - ”
“Out with it, Prosecutor Gavin,” Edgeworth said, sighing wearily. “I can tell you have something on your mind. I’m afraid I can’t give you the exact details of what happened, if that’s what you’re looking for.”
“Ah - ja, I know, I - I was just wondering if…” Klavier hesitated. “...if everyone is...okay. Safe and sound, so to speak.”
Edgeworth’s face softened. “Yes, everyone’s perfectly fine. Wright, Ms. Fey, Ms. Cykes, and Trucy are all fine.”
Klavier blinked. “Wait, but - what about Herr Fore - Herr Justice? What...did he…”
“I should have known that was who you were really curious about,” Edgeworth said knowingly, looking at Klavier over the tops of his glasses. His expression, gentle, almost sympathetic, made Klavier’s stomach churn. “Mr. Justice decided to stay behind in Khura’in indefinitely. He’s looking to help rebuild their legal system from the ground up.”
Klavier felt as if his heart had dropped right through to the floor. “He’s...he’s not coming back?” He could barely hear the sound of his own voice over the rush of his pulse pounding in his ears.
“Eventually, perhaps, but not anytime soon,” Edgeworth replied. “My apologies, Prosecutor Gavin. I know you two were…”
“Close?” Klavier let out a bitter, hollow laugh. “Nein, not at all. We were barely even friends.”
Edgeworth straightened up in his seat, and then, to Klavier’s astonishment, removed his glasses. It was unnerving to see such warmth in his superior’s eyes, especially when he knew Edgeworth didn’t think much of him in the first place. Not after what had happened all those years ago, even though it hadn’t really been him. “Let me amend my previous statement, then. I know you two had a...connection of sorts.”
“Ja, through...through someone I’d rather not talk about.” Klavier cleared his throat. “Danke for letting me know, Herr Edgeworth. It’s...good to see Herr Justice making something of himself.”
“He's definitely an admirable young man,” Edgeworth replied, nodding slowly. “I can see why Wright took a liking to him. I can see why you took a liking to him.”
“Ah, well,” Klavier said, coughing again. “Anyway, I should leave you to it, sir. Have a good rest of your day, ja? I’ll be in my office if anything comes up.”
“Of course.” Edgeworth neatly slid his glasses back on, then turned his attention to his work laptop. “Take care, Prosecutor Gavin.” Nodding at the dismissal, Klavier bowed his head and left Edgeworth’s office, his footsteps noticeably heavier than they’d been when he first entered it. He took a few heaving breaths, then shut himself in his own office and let out a small, silent sob.
_____
“I see you’re moping again, Gavin-dono. Must be a day that ends in ‘y’.”
“Bitte, Herr Blackquill, I’m perfectly fine,” Klavier said, clutching his mug of tea a little tighter than necessary. “My trial yesterday? Perfekt. The weather during my morning run earlier today? Perfekt. The leftovers I brought for lunch today? Perfekt, so long as Herr Payne doesn’t break the microwave again before I get there...I don’t know how he manages to do that on a weekly basis. Anyway, as you can see, I’ve never been better.”
“What a sad testament to your mental state if that were true.” Simon dropped into the seat opposite him, his hands resting on top of the breakroom table, his intense gaze focused on Klavier’s face. Klavier didn’t find him as intimidating as everyone else did, especially not after he’d witnessed Simon sing a drunken duet with Kay, entirely unprompted, at an office holiday party. No amount of threats or glares could get Klavier to delete the video evidence off his backup hard drive. “Luckily for you, it’s entirely false. You’ve been acting strangely for weeks now, and I know the reason why.”
“Do you really?” Klavier sipped his tea. “I thought you didn’t, quote-unquote, ‘care to stick your nose in my absurd affairs’. After all, I’m the silly one of the prosecutor’s office, am I not?” Simon cocked his head slightly, perplexed. “Ah, that Prosecutor Gavin, what an odd one he is. All style and no substance, always speaking in that accent that no one believes is real, always spouting nonsense and song lyrics and little else.”
“Self-hatred doesn’t suit you, so I suggest you cease this pitiful act at once,” Simon said, frowning. “You’re a confident man, Gavin-dono. I’d even say your confidence is fully justified, foppish nature aside. And yet, here you are, torn up over Justice-dono’s absence like a heartbroken teenager.”
“I am not torn up,” Klavier sniffed, setting his mug down with a sharp clunk. “I’m happy to hear that Herr Forehead has found his true calling. A far cry from the loud, nervous rookie he was when we first met. Now, he’s just loud.”
“...hmph. Yes, that piercing voice of his certainly rivals Taka’s,” Simon replied, taking a moment to scratch the underside of his bird’s chin. Klavier didn’t like the way Taka was eyeing his hair; he suspected Taka was fighting against his instincts to make a nest.
“Maybe still a little nervous.” Klavier paused. “I imagine seeing him stand in a Khura’inese court must be quite...something.”
“I didn’t sit here with the intention of listening to you dance around your romantic feelings towards Justice-dono, you know,” Simon informed him. “It’s exhausting and pointless, and a waste of my time.”
Klavier averted his eyes from Simon’s face, finding himself oddly fascinated with a water stain on the opposite wall, right beside the notice board. “Why did you sit here, then?”
“Because...I know a lonely person when I see one.” Simon let the silence linger for a moment; Klavier wasn’t sure which of them favored dramatic pauses more. “Even Athena told me you seemed...not yourself. Though you’ve been performing your prosecutorial duties just fine, she said you were distant...distracted. Is it the lack of companionship, perhaps?”
“You and Herr Edgeworth seem to be under the impression that Forehead and I were friends,” Klavier said evenly, his tone growing increasingly irritated. “The truth is, Herr Blackquill - since you seem unusually interested for someone who barely says two words to me most mornings - that Apollo was my friend, but I wasn’t his. Is that what you wanted to hear? Has your analysis of my psyche scratched your itch?”
Like Edgeworth, Simon’s face almost seemed to soften. “I had no desire to rile you up, but...I see that I’ve done it, anyway. I see that I’ve overstepped. Forgive me, Gavin-dono.” Klavier looked up at him, stunned. Simon merely stood, smoothing out the front of his coat. Even Taka’s expression seemed apologetic. “Find someone to talk to, if you haven’t already; it will do you a world of good. I heard many a story from my fellow prisoners by simply offering to lend an ear. I think you’d find the process of opening up to be quite...illuminating. Freeing, even.”
“I’m sure I would.” Klavier took another sip and said nothing else.
_____
“Mr. Gavin! I thought I saw you in the audience, but I couldn’t believe it!”
Laughing, Klavier held out the bouquet of red roses in his arms for her to take. “Alles Gute zum Geburtstag, fräulein, what a perfect way to celebrate your eighteenth. You were as magical as ever, though who would ever expect any less?”
Beaming, Trucy accepted his flowers, then practically launched herself right at him, wrapping her arms around his waist. He barely managed to catch her in time. “Thank you so much! Ah, these are so beautiful - and they smell great, too!” She stepped back, taking a generous whiff before exhaling happily. “Hey, do you wanna drop by my dressing room for a sec? I have to go sign autographs and stuff, but I’m sure Athena would love to say hi!”
“Sure,” Klavier agreed. “Lead the way.” He followed Trucy down the backstage corridor, coming to a stop in front of a door with a gold nameplate in the shape of a silk top hat. Klavier involuntarily shuddered; the Gramarye seal had always been a sore spot for him, no matter how many good memories outweighed the bad. Trucy opened the door, revealing that it wasn’t just Athena who was waiting inside, but a whole group of people - Athena, the two Fey women whose names Klavier vaguely remembered from Trucy’s stories, Detective Gumshoe, and an odd, almost sad-looking girl wearing a traditional costume. However, Klavier’s eyes went straight to the two people conversing by Trucy’s dressing table - Phoenix Wright and Vera Misham.
Phoenix turned at the sound of the door opening. His eyes widened slightly when he saw who it was. “This is becoming a real party now, hey, Truce?” he teased, lightly ruffling his daughter’s hair. Trucy stuck her tongue out at him, then went to carefully place Klavier’s flowers among the dozens of others by her costume rack. Phoenix’s expression tightened somewhat. “Prosecutor Gavin, it’s - it’s good to see you. Trucy swore she spotted you in the audience, but I guess my eyes were never as sharp as hers.”
“I know her party is tomorrow, but I wouldn’t dare pass up the chance to watch her birthday extravaganza,” Klavier said smoothly. He felt as if Vera’s eyes were burning holes in the side of his face.
“So you’re Prosecutor Gavin, huh?” The older Fey woman - Maya, if Klavier remembered correctly - sidled right up to him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Trucy and Athena have told me all about you. I hear you’re different from the other prosecutors me and Nick had to deal with back in the day!”
The door opened behind Klavier. “Are you talking about us, Maya Fey?” He turned on his heel to see Edgeworth and Franziska von Karma standing in the doorway, both impeccably dressed as always, carrying identical bouquets of white lilies and blue delphinium in their arms.
“Auntie Franzy!” Trucy shrieked, barreling across the room to toss herself into Franziska’s arms, much like she had done to Klavier just moments ago. “Daddy said you weren’t gonna fly in until tomorrow!”
“And miss your performance? I would be a foolishly foolish fool if I did,” Franziska huffed, kissing Trucy on the cheek. “You will receive the rest of our presents tomorrow. I hear your fool of a father refuses to let you wear makeup despite the fact that you’d like to, and I am here to rectify that parenting mistake. You’re eighteen now, after all; you should be able to do as you please.”
“Within reason,” Edgeworth added, shooting Franziska a withering look. “Don’t encourage her too much, Franziska. I think we're all too familiar with Trucy’s...imagination.”
“Miles Edgeworth, how dare you question my - ”
Klavier quickly retreated into a corner of the dressing room as everyone’s voices grew louder and louder; clearly, his presence had been completely forgotten. He spotted the younger Fey woman, Pearl, conversing with the sad-looking girl - Jinxie, he heard her name was - while Maya and Detective Gumshoe chatted happily with Edgeworth and Franziska. Trucy had left to sign autographs for her fans, leaving Phoenix to turn back to Vera, who was still eyeing Klavier warily.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Klavier startled suddenly at the sound of Athena’s voice. He turned to see her perched on the vanity, legs swinging over the edge, smiling at him encouragingly. “You seem a little lost, Prosecutor Gavin. Everything okay?”
Sighing, Klavier leaned against the wall, glancing down at the toes of his Doc Martens. “Don’t tell me Herr Blackquill asked you to keep an eye on me.”
“Hardly!” Athena exclaimed; she almost seemed offended by his insinuation. “You just seem a little...quiet, that’s all.”
“Well…” Klavier looked back up, shooting her a stilted smile. “Everyone here is either someone I don’t know, someone I work with, or someone whose life I ruined. Forgive me for feeling a little...cornered.”
“C’mon, you didn’t ruin their lives,” Athena said, hopping down so she could lightly punch him in the arm. “I heard the whole story from Apollo ages ago, and he says it wasn’t you. He says you were just a…a schachfigur in someone else’s game.”
“A pawn, in other words.” Klavier chuckled despite himself. “Ja, if you want to be generous about it...or if you want to say that I’m easily swayed. Did Herr Forehead really say that?”
“He sure did! He talks about you all the time,” Athena added with an enthusiastic nod. “I mean, you annoy him - a lot - but he’s always mentioning how decent and honest you are. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think, well...nah, probably not.”
“Probably not,” Klavier echoed, trying his best to ignore his racing heart. The last thing he wanted to do was have hope. “Anyway, I don’t think I’ll be sticking around much longer. Don’t want to get in the way.”
“Huh? You’re not getting in the way of anything!” Athena protested. “Are you sure you won’t stay?”
Klavier shook his head, pushing himself off the wall and straightening up, smoothing out the creases in his hoodie. “Nein, I should make an early night of it. I have to meet my personal trainer bright and early, after all. But I’ll see you at Trucy’s party tomorrow, ja?”
Athena hesitated. “Ja, of course,” she chirped, plastering on an uncertain smile. “And hey, if you ever need a running partner, you have my number!”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Klavier promised, surprising himself by how true that was. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone running with someone who wasn’t his personal trainer. “Gute Nacht, fräulein.”
“G’night,” Athena said, squeezing his shoulder before letting him go. Nodding, Klavier deftly weaved his way through the crowded dressing room and slipped out the door. A few heads turned his way, but no one seemed interested in saying their goodbyes, nor was he all that interested in offering his own, either. The moment he stepped into the corridor, he heard a startled gasp, a choked breath, that almost made him jump.
“Ach - my apologies, I didn’t mean to - Trucy?”
Leaning against the wall opposite her dressing room door was Trucy, her eyes wide and suspiciously wet. “Oh - Mr. Gavin, d-don’t tell me you’re leaving already!”
“I have a session with my - are you alright, fräulein?” Klavier asked, closing the door behind him, then approaching her slowly, carefully. “You look…”
“ - like I’ve been crying?” Trucy let out a wet laugh, pulling a tissue out of nowhere and hastily wiping her eyes. “Don’t you cry after a big performance, Mr. Gavin? You know, that rush of adrenaline, that boost of energy, that feeling of relief - it’s all a part of being a performer! Especially on a stage as big as this!”
“Natürlich, I’ve absolutely wept tears of joy after a gut show. But this?” Klavier gestured in her direction. “This...it’s something else, isn’t it?”
“I - it’s just…” Trucy sniffled. “You won’t tell anyone, right?”
“Not if you don’t want me to,” Klavier said softly. “Though maybe Herr Wright should hear this another time, too.”
“I don’t wanna bother Daddy,” Trucy said, shaking her head. “Besides, I...I don’t wanna make him feel bad!”
“Bad?” Klavier repeated, confused. “What do you mean?”
Trucy took a moment to blow her nose. Then, she managed a small smile in Klavier’s direction. “It’s stupid, but...when I was in there earlier, and I-I saw all of my friends and family together, I started thinking about...you know. The rest of my family. All of the Gramaryes, all gone.” She sniffled noisily again. “Mommy and Daddy and Grandpa, they - th-they never got to see me grow up. And Uncle Valant, he’s still in prison, a-and - so now it’s just me. Just me. I have to carry on the family legacy, but no one’s here to teach me how!”
Klavier’s eyes widened in shock. “Trucy…”
“But if I tell Daddy - Phoenix, I mean - that I’ve been thinking about Mommy and Daddy, he’s gonna...I just can’t,” Trucy continued, shaking her head vehemently. “If he finds out, he’s gonna feel like...like he failed me. And he didn’t, not one bit, but - when I first started living with him, he said he felt like that all the time. Like he was doing it all wrong.” She swallowed, but her throat seemed to be stuck. “And...I’ve, um, I’ve been thinking about Apollo, too.”
“You were?” Klavier asked, his mouth twisting. “Why?”
“I know I’ve only known him for a few years, but...it feels like I’ve known him forever. Like we were always meant to be best friends, you know?” Trucy was now fiddling with the ends of her cape, avoiding Klavier’s eyes. “It’s my birthday, a-and he’s not here. He called yesterday to say he wouldn’t be able to talk today, so we had a little celebration together, just the two of us. It was nice, but it just...it wasn’t the same.”
“He’ll come back eventually, ja?” Klavier said gently. “You said that was part of his plan.”
“‘Eventually’ is looking further and further away,” Trucy said with a wry smile. “But I-I know I gotta be okay with it. He’s doing really important stuff in Khura’in, after all!” She then nudged him. “You should call him sometime - he’s talked about some really cool cases that I bet you’d be interested in.”
“I doubt he’d want to hear from me, of all people, especially if he’s as busy as he sounds,” Klavier chuckled.
“I wouldn’t be so sure, Mr. Gavin,” Trucy teased, elbowing him again. “He only just told me yesterday that he misses you…‘in a weird way’. That’s practically a glowing review, coming from Polly!”
Klavier felt his heartbeat race once more. “Ah, well, then maybe I should consider it. How could I not, when I might get to hear such generous praise myself?” Trucy burst into laughter, her face finally relaxing for the first time since Klavier had approached her.
They lingered in companionable silence for a moment, hearing nothing but their own steadying breaths and the muffled sounds of what seemed like absolute chaos coming from inside Trucy’s dressing room. Klavier wasn’t sure if he wanted to know why it sounded like Franziska was lecturing at least three different people at the same time. “Thanks for hearing me out, Mr. Gavin.”
“Bitte schön, though I’m not sure if I was any help at all,” Klavier admitted.
“Of course you were!” Trucy exclaimed, straightening up. “I feel better now, honest. Just talking about all that stuff really helped, even if I’m still not exactly sure what to do.”
“Hopefully you will soon, ja?” Klavier moved away from the wall, flashing her a genuine smile. “But if you ask me, you’re already doing a wunderschön job of upholding the Gramarye name, and I’m sure if you talk to Herr Wright about how you’re feeling, he’d say the same thing. Don’t be so hard on yourself, fräulein.”
Trucy hesitated. Then, she stepped forward to hug Klavier, holding him a little tighter than last time. He automatically held her closer, too. “See you tomorrow?” she mumbled against his shoulder.
“Of course,” Klavier promised. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
_____
“How is he doing, that defense attorney of yours?”
Klavier looked up from the box he was packing. He found it almost too easy to get distracted in here, to feel a wave of nostalgia crash over him as he packed away the books and toys that once filled his childhood playroom. There were already paint swatches on the wall, a collection of wood stain samples sitting by his feet, but he wasn’t quite ready to see it transformed into something else, for the room to belong to someone other than him. “He’s not mine, Mama, he’s just a friend. And he’s fine, if a little stressed. Er, make that a lot stressed.”
“Doesn’t surprise me.” She clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “Even just hearing it secondhand, I can tell that boy needs a break.”
“I’ve told him as much,” Klavier said dryly. “We talk most days, you know. He’s just stubborn, won’t listen to anyone - least of all me.”
“If you talk most days, then he must listen to you to some degree, yes?” she pointed out, momentarily crossing the room so she could crack open a window. “How long has he been away now?”
“Almost seven months, I think,” Klavier replied, turning back to what he was doing. “Though we’ve been talking for...around three at this point. If it wasn’t for Trucy, I...I don’t think I would have ever tried. Even now, I feel like I take up too much of his time when he could be going to bed early or doing something more productive.”
“Ah, Klavier.” He looked back up to see his mother had returned to his side; her hand went to the top of his head, ruffling his hair affectionately. “Why is it so hard for you to understand when people care about you, hm? Aside from the screaming fans, I mean.”
“Mama,” Klavier complained, his cheeks heating with embarrassment. “Achtung, it’s nothing like that. All I’m saying is, we were never close to begin with. I’m sure he’d rather talk to Trucy or get his advice from Herr Wright.”
Frowning, she withdrew her hand from Klavier’s hair. “I don’t know what I would say to that man if I were to ever meet him. Where would I even begin?”
“I...ah…” Klavier busied himself with the collection of picture books he’d been rifling through earlier, smiling faintly at the sight of his name scrawled on the inside covers in barely legible chicken scratch. “...I have that same thought, and I see him all the time. I suppose an apology is in order, but...I don’t know if he would even want to hear it.”
“To think Kris ruined far more lives than just the ones he’d taken,” she whispered, slowly sinking down to sit beside him. “To think he’d taken any lives at all, I - ”
“Mama, bitte - ”
“What did we do, Klavier?” she said forlornly, her voice thick with emotion. “Where did we go wrong? What could we have - ”
“Mama, Mama, breathe,” Klavier murmured, rubbing her back soothingly. “It wasn’t your fault, ja? Not yours, not Papa’s. Just his, and...a little bit of mine.”
“Hardly,” she insisted. She then cupped his face in her hands, looking up at him with watery eyes and a bittersweet smile. “Don’t let anyone blame you for what he did, darling, especially not yourself. Promise?”
“Ich verspreche,” Klavier said obediently, tilting his chin down so she could kiss his forehead. She then released him with a satisfied nod, turning back the box she’d been working on earlier; in doing so, she missed the way Klavier’s face fell. He cleared his throat. “So...a crafting room, ja? What kind of projects did you have in mind?”
“I haven’t decided yet,” she said, humming. “I want to try a few things - cross-stitching, beadwork, paper crafting...we’ll have to see what sticks. If any of them stick.”
“You’re not retired yet, Mama,” Klavier reminded her. “I’m exhausted just listening to you and Papa talk about what you’ve been up to - I don’t know how you do it.”
“You’re exhausted? I’m exhausted just listening to what you’ve been up to,” she teased. “You’re not the only prosecutor in the district, baby, so why do you work like you are? Go out, live a little. Or stay in, I suppose, whatever you prefer.”
“I like being busy,” Klavier said defensively. “And I enjoy my work, you know that.”
“I just wish you enjoyed more than just working, that’s all,” she said, clicking her tongue disapprovingly. “You know what they say - don’t turn your hobbies into a career. But you went ahead and did that anyway, and now you don’t have any hobbies left!”
“I have plenty of hobbies, danke very much,” Klavier chuckled. “Cooking, working out...and I’m not exactly in the music business anymore, so I’d say that’s back to being a hobby, ja?”
“How about friends?” she suggested. “All I hear about is the people who work for you or the people who work with you.”
“That’s just how it goes,” Klavier said with a rueful grimace. “Making friends as an adult...it’s hard. But I mean it, mir geht's gut. You have nothing to worry about, not with me.”
“I know.” She squeezed his shoulder. “But I’m going to worry, anyway.” She then stood, smoothing out the front of her shirt. “We should probably get going with lunch before your papa gets home, yes? We’ll continue with this later.”
“Ja, Mama, natürlich,” Klavier replied, also getting to his feet. He cast one last lingering glance in the direction of the picture books - for it wasn’t just his messy, childish handwriting inside, but Kristoph’s neat cursive as well - before following her out into the hallway.
_____
Time, Klavier mused to himself every so often, never really made sense to him. He liked being on time, of course, he liked the precision of it, especially when it came to music. He was proud of his natural affinity for rhythm, for keeping time. It was why he excelled at piano and guitar lessons at an early age, why the numerous vocal coaches he’d had in his life found him particularly easy to work with. But it always caught him off-guard whenever things seemed to speed up or slow down or even come to a complete standstill whenever they pleased. Twenty-four years of his life, changed, when he learned about his brother’s true nature. Seven years of his band, gone, when his best friend turned out to be a criminal as well. And now, an entire year that felt like five, all because Apollo wasn’t here.
“You should just ask him out already,” Ema had said to him one evening, over drinks. “I know his name is misleading, but he’s just a person, not a god. What’re you so scared of?”
“I’m not fond of wasps or small spaces,” Klavier had drawled, smirking at Ema’s infuriated scowl as he took a sip of his beer. Still, he knew she had a point. As blunt as Apollo could be, Klavier doubted he would be cruel about turning someone down. It also didn’t help that these days, he was starting to get his hopes up, now that he and Apollo talked on a daily basis. He still wasn’t sure how it had happened, aside from Trucy’s encouragement and his own impulses, but he couldn’t be more thrilled that it had.
“Two more months until I’m out of here...I think,” Apollo amended, yawning, his face filling up Klavier’s entire laptop screen. He looked good, Klavier though, even better than usual - during his time in Khura’in, Apollo had gotten more sun; his skin was a few shades darker, his freckles especially more prominent across the bridge of his nose. His hair was longer, too, mostly in the back, and his wardrobe had slowly evolved into an aesthetically pleasing mix of American street style and Khura’inese casualwear. Apollo had also mentioned a few times that he had built up some muscle, especially in his calves and shoulders, now that he had to walk everywhere and carry his fully-loaded bag wherever he went. Klavier tried not to think about how much he was looking forward to seeing it for himself in person.
“You’re sure now?” Klavier asked. “You’ve said that before.”
“Pretty sure,” Apollo said, chuckling. “Nahyuta even bought me a plane ticket, like he can’t wait for me to leave.”
“I’m sure he’ll miss you all the same,” Klavier replied. “And he’s used to flying back and forth, so I doubt you’ll be apart for long.”
“I think I’m gonna miss him, too,” Apollo admitted, tugging on the sleeves of his hoodie. It always gave Klavier a little thrill whenever he saw Apollo wearing it - after all, it was once his, having sent it to Apollo via a care package that Trucy had put together a while ago. Though their upper bodies were comparable in width, Apollo was significantly shorter, which meant the hoodie seemed to completely swallow him up. “It’s weird, looking back on it. How different we were when we were kids - like, both as people and as brothers - and yet...some things never changed. I don’t even know how to explain it, I just...I just know.”
“Something only the two of you can understand, I’m sure,” Klavier said diplomatically. He’d heard many stories about Apollo and Nahyuta’s childhood by now, sometimes accompanied by the occasional mention of Dhurke. Even now, he found it hard to picture; he wasn’t too familiar with Nahyuta, but the thought of him and Apollo chasing each other across mountainous hills or searching for frogs along the riverbanks seemed unlikely, yet it happened all the same. “You have a good relationship with him by now, I take it?”
“Definitely,” Apollo nodded. He then leaned in close to the camera, his voice dropping to an exaggerated whisper. “I’ve even grown on Rayfa, and though she'll never admit it, I think she kinda misses Mr. Wright.”
Klavier laughed. “Charmed her, have you? I’m not surprised. You can be...persuasive when you want to be.”
“You make me sound like a conman,” Apollo snorted, leaning back in his seat. “Give me a little credit, will you?”
“Ja, ja, fair enough,” Klavier said, holding his hands up in surrender. “After all, you did have a client ask you out once. Clearly, you have some natural appeal.”
“It’s happened twice, actually,” Apollo said, shuddering. “I don’t know what I did to make either of ‘em think I was remotely interested, but I shut them down fast.”
“You saved their lives,” Klavier pointed out. “It might be their...misguided way of showing their gratitude. Besides, you’re not half-bad. Some might even say you’re...attractive.”
“And the compliments just keep on rolling in.” Apollo got up from his seat, momentarily blocking the camera as he unplugged his laptop from its charger and carried it over to his bed. He sat cross-legged by his pillows, yawning and stretching luxuriously. “You really know how to make a guy feel special, Gavin.”
“If you’re fishing for praise, Forehead, you only have to ask,” Klavier teased. “Let’s see, should we talk about the impressive way that your voice cracks every so often when you shout, which is all the time? What about the fact that you only seem to own one tie in the most outlandish shade of blue I’ve ever seen? Or how, every single time, without fail, you always push on the courthouse entrance doors despite the fact that they’re clearly marked ‘pull’ - ”
“You are such a dick,” Apollo sighed, shaking his head.
“ - you managed to get food poisoning at two different events for the prosecutor’s office,” Klavier continued; if he wasn’t enjoying himself earlier, he certainly was now. “Ah, remember that time you ripped your pants at a crime scene? Good thing it was a thrift store, ja? But if you ask me, corduroy bell bottoms don’t quite suit you. You don’t have the height for flared hems.”
“...I think you’ve gone just a little off-track here,” Apollo drawled. “Take it back now, Gavin, you were s’posed to be saying nice stuff, remember? Like, tell me I’m good at my job or something.”
“You make the perfekt lawyer,” Klavier said in the most serious tone he could muster, biting his lip to stop himself from laughing. “After all, you just love to pick a fight.”
“Don’t think I won’t hang up on you,” Apollo said, yawning again as he half-flopped over onto his side, pillowing his hands beneath his cheek. For what felt like the thousandth time, Klavier found himself wishing he was in Khura’in, too.
“You say that every time, and you’ve never followed through,” Klavier reminded him. “Fine, you want a real compliment, Forehead?”
“That’s what I was asking for,” Apollo mumbled sleepily, his voice muffled.
“I think…” Klavier hesitated. “I think you might be one of my favorite people in the whole world.”
Apollo’s eyes flew open. “Huh? You...y-you really think so?”
“Would I be talking to you all the time if you weren’t?” Klavier chuckled. “How much free time do you think I have on my hands, hm?”
“Yeah, but - b-but still,” Apollo protested weakly. Klavier delighted in the way Apollo’s cheeks reddened, the way his nose scrunched up, the way his brows furrowed in an attempt to look irritated instead of embarrassed. “We only really became friends, like, uh...eight-ish months ago, so…”
“So nichts,” Klavier said derisively. “I say what I mean and I mean what I say, ja?”
Apollo shot him a drowsy smile. “Thanks, Gavin. It’s...actually kinda flattering.” He yawned yet again, curling up on top of his pillows. “Hey, I just remembered - you had your evaluation with Mr. Edgeworth just now, right? How’d that go, did you get three gold stars and an extra cookie to go with your juicebox like you wanted?”
“Call the prosecutor’s office a preschool just one time, all because Herr Debeste decided to bring Ritz crackers to the office potluck, and now you can’t let it go...and move on,” Klavier added, smirking; Apollo lifted a hand to flip him off. “It’s the usual with Herr Edgeworth, really - ‘excellent work, Prosecutor Gavin, nothing new to report’. Whenever I ask him if there’s anything more I can do, any way in which I can improve...I get nothing. It’s like he wants me out of his office as soon as possible.”
“I doubt it,” Apollo said quietly. “I know you keep saying over and over again that he blames you for what happened to Mr. Wright - but he doesn’t. Even if he did at one point, no one does anymore, alright? We know what happened, we know who it was, a-and it wasn’t you.” He propped himself up on his elbow, looking Klavier right in the eye. “Mr. Edgeworth doesn’t have suggestions for you ‘cos...you’re good at what you do. Somehow, you, Mister Euro-Rocker, are the most normal person at the prosecutor’s office. All anyone can accuse you of is, like, self-promotion, grandstanding, and wall slamming. Why do you do that, anyway?”
“I had a kickboxing phase,” Klavier said, laughing wetly. “That was surprisingly touching, Forehead, danke. Don’t we all aspire to be ‘the most normal person’ in any situation, achtung.”
“So you’re saying in some alternate universe, you would leg slam the prosecutor’s bench instead?” Apollo said dryly. “What would that even look like?”
“Gott if I know,” Klavier replied, continuing to laugh. “Anyway, should I let you go now? You look like you’re going to fall asleep at any second.”
“I’m fine.” Apollo slumped back down against his pillows, then let out an exaggerated exhale. “Though I wouldn’t, uh. I wouldn’t complain if you sang me to sleep, either.”
Klavier straightened up in his seat, surprised. “Again? I didn’t think you actually meant it last time, until it worked.”
“Your voice is, y’know...decent,” Apollo said, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards. “I have to listen to it for, like, two hours a day, after all. Going on and on about ‘ah, Herr Forehead, my bike didn’t start again’, or ‘I got a free drink at the courthouse café because the cute barista recognized me, can you believe it’ - oh, and we can’t forget the classic ‘you wouldn’t believe how terrible my hair looks today, I don’t know if I should turn my camera on’ - ”
“I take offense to that last one,” Klavier protested. “You’ve done the exact same thing to me! Remember when there was a thunderstorm - ”
“A Khura’inese thunderstorm, one of the worst the country’s ever seen, versus you having a, quote-unquote, ‘bad hair day’ ‘cos you woke up on the wrong side of the silk pillowcase. Very comparable,” Apollo drawled. “Go on, then, Gavin, give me a lullaby.”
Klavier steeled himself, taking a deep breath. Then, in the throatiest, most operatic voice he could muster, he began to sing. “Guten abend, gut nacht, mit rosen bedacht - ”
“Screw off, you - ” Apollo was doubled over, clutching at his stomach; the sound of his laugh, as cliché as it was, was music to Klavier’s ears. “Shit, I-I can’t even be mad at that one, that was on me. Okay, let’s not do a lullaby, just give me, like...something slow.”
Klavier hummed thoughtfully as he watched Apollo settle back down, drawing his duvet up over his shoulders. “Moon river, wider than a mile, I'm crossing you in style someday...dream maker, you heart breaker, wherever you're goin', I'm goin' your way…” It didn’t take long for Apollo to fall asleep, his breath slowly evening out as he did. He looked peaceful in a way that he never did when he was awake. Smiling to himself, Klavier went to end the call. “Gute Nacht, liebe.”
_____
“For the love of everything, can you please stop bouncing your leg like that?”
“Ah - ” Klavier clamped his hand down onto his thigh, offering her a nervous smile. “My apologies, fräulein, I didn’t realize it was so cold in here. Does Herr Wright have a habit of leaving the air conditioning on? I didn’t think this office even had air conditioning, to be honest.”
Ema side-eyed him derisively; the effect was slightly ruined by the huge bouquet of roses she had sitting in her lap. They were practically tickling her chin. “...cold, right. That’s what’s going on, not the fact that we’re here to surprise Apollo on his way back from the airport.”
Klavier was very tempted to glare back. He liked to think he was an amiable person, but Ema challenged that notion every time they spoke. “Why did you decide to return early, anyway? Was Herr Sahdmadhi getting on your nerves?”
“Oh, please,” Ema snorted. “Sorry, Gavin, you’re still the problem child of the prosecutor’s office to me. No, I left early ‘cos...well, because I could. Besides, I missed this one over here.” She lightly elbowed the person on her other side, who giggled sweetly in response.
“Long-distance suuucks,” Kay agreed, dropping her head onto Ema’s shoulder and shooting her an affectionate grin. “Now that Em’s back for good, we can finally look into getting a place together!”
“Have you started yet?” Klavier asked, curious. “Because my area has a few - ”
“Um, I-I think a taxi just pulled up outside!” Klavier turned to squint through the darkness in the direction of the front window, where Juniper, Vera, and the Fey women were hidden, lifting their heads every so often to peek through the blinds. Thankfully, Vera seemed less nervous around him these days; he hated the thought of making her uncomfortable, especially when there was nothing he could do about it but wait. He’d tried approaching her on the rare occasions they were in the same room together, but more often than not, they both ended up tongue-tied. “I see Thena, and Apollo, and Trucy...oh, there’s Mr. Wright! I think Trucy made him tip the driver extra, heh.”
Klavier’s heart seemed to be in his throat as he, Ema, and Kay crouched down behind Apollo’s desk, while the others went to duck behind Phoenix’s and Athena’s desks as well. It had been so long, so long that he’d nearly forgotten some of the little things that just didn’t quite translate via phone call or video chat - how tall Apollo really was, how loud he could truly be; the way his nose scrunched up when he laughed, or how he absent-mindedly played with his bracelet more often than Klavier suspected he realized himself. He had to stop himself from letting out a hysterical laugh when he remembered how, the last time he saw Apollo in person, he’d flipped Klavier off. How appropriate, Klavier thought somewhat dazedly, shaking his head. And now -
“...huh, so I really did leave my jacket here. Guess it doesn’t matter since I never wore it, anyway. I’m more of a suit vest kinda guy, you know? So, what are we - ” The light flickered on. All at once, the agency seemed to explode with noise as everyone jumped out from behind the desks.
“SURPRISE!” Several party poppers, courtesy of Maya and Kay, went off simultaneously, which only added to the chaos.
“ - argh - what the - ?!”
“Wh-whoa, Polly, watch your head! You almost knocked over Mr. Charley!”
“Forget Charley, I-I almost twisted my ankle just now, shit - ” Apollo managed to find his footing again, half-leaning against the back of the couch to keep himself propped up while he caught his breath, his hand clasped over his presumably racing heart. Klavier could only stare at him, dumbfounded, his mouth hanging open. Ema was side-eyeing him again, but by now, he really didn’t care.
Of course, Klavier had known for a few weeks now that today was the day, but to see Apollo standing - well, somewhat collapsing - in front of him was something else entirely. Clearly, Apollo’s laptop webcam and spotty internet connection hadn’t done him justice, not the healthy glow of his skin, nor the shine of his hair. He was wearing a Khura’inese tunic and joggers with both the sleeves and pant hems rolled up, revealing just how muscular he’d become. However, what intrigued Klavier most of all was the familiar-looking hoodie in Apollo’s arms.
“Hey, stranger,” Ema said, lightly punching Apollo in the shoulder, then unceremoniously shoving the bouquet of roses into his arms despite the fact he was still holding the handle of his rolling luggage bag. He nearly dropped it on his own foot in an attempt to grab the flowers in time. “It’s weird, right? I’m still getting used to, like, mega-grocery stores and smog all over again.”
“Considering I’ve only been inside an airport, a taxi, and the agency so far, I can’t say I’ve had time to adjust, no,” Apollo said dryly. He then frowned. “Er, Ms. Fey, a-are you filming all this?”
Maya grinned almost manically over the top of her phone. “Yup! Blame Trucy and Athena - they wanted to get your reaction on camera, and ooh, you did not disappoint.”
Apollo deflated even further. “...glad I could entertain you all.” He then straightened up, approaching Juniper and Vera first to chat with them amicably while the others fell back to talk amongst themselves. Trucy sidled up next to Klavier with the brightest grin she’d had in months.
“I still can’t believe he’s finally here,” Trucy admitted. “It was starting to feel like he was never coming back, you know?”
“He looks...surprisingly refreshed for someone who’s been sitting on a plane for Gott knows how long,” Klavier chuckled, smoothing out the creases in the front of his shirt. He then shot Trucy a soft smile. “You must be thrilled.”
“Ecstatic!” Trucy chirped, nodding enthusiastically. “There are some tricks Athena just refuses to help with, but I bet Apollo wouldn’t mind if I volunteered him for the job!”
“That’s not the only reason you missed him and you know it,” Klavier said gently.
Trucy’s cheeks reddened; she shot him a sheepish smile. “...I-I may have cried at the airport. It was a total mess, ‘cos me and Athena were crying, and then Apollo started crying, and there was tears and snot everywhere, a-and Daddy got it all on tape, too. He said it was like we were trying to set the record for world’s longest hug!”
“That’s very sweet, fräulein,” Klavier murmured. “I’m sure it was quite the scene.”
“What was quite the scene?” They startled at the sound of a new voice, turning to see Apollo standing before them. The first thing Klavier couldn’t help but think, stupidly enough, was that Apollo looked taller somehow - he seemed to be holding his head higher, his chest prouder, though it also helped that he was wearing a heavy pair of brown leather boots with a thick sole. Klavier’s heart thumped pathetically in his chest at the sight of Apollo’s warm, curious eyes, now fixed on his face in confusion.
“Your reunion, or so I hear,” Klavier said smoothly, taking a few steps closer. His eyes flickered down to Apollo’s arms, half-folded in front of his torso; he was still holding onto the hoodie. “And I see I’ve done a good job of keeping you warm while you were away, Herr Forehead.” He sensed Trucy, Ema, and Kay exchanging bewildered glances behind him.
“Don’t flatter yourself, I got some pretty nice handmade blankets in Khura’in,” Apollo chuckled, lifting a hand to run his fingers through his unstyled hair. Klavier was more used to seeing it without gel than with it at this point, given how most of their video calls had taken place during Apollo’s evenings. “But, uh...thanks. You sure you don’t want it back?”
“Ah, nein, it’s all yours now,” Klavier replied. “But if you’re in need of more clothes that aren’t from the children’s section, I’d be more than happy to provide.”
Apollo snorted, shaking his head. “You’re such a dick.” Then, to just about everyone’s surprise, he took the last few steps to close the gap between them and wrapped his arms around Klavier, burying his face against Klavier’s shoulder with a contented sigh. “...it’s good to see you, Gavin.”
Klavier stood still for a moment, stunned, before returning the hug, holding him tighter than either of them expected, resting his chin on top of Apollo’s head. He smelled faintly of fruit and dirt and sweat, though Klavier didn’t mind one bit. “Ich habe dich vermisst,” he mumbled into Apollo’s hair, letting out a relieved exhale. “I’m glad you’re back.”
A little over an hour later, their rather large group of people - made even larger with the addition of Edgeworth and Simon, who had been held up in a work incident that, from the sound of it, was entirely Payne’s fault - found themselves at an all-you-can-eat sushi restaurant, arguing over whether to order more salmon or more unagi while they drank beer, or in Trucy and Pearl’s case, soda. Their table was crowded, to be sure, and it was definitely the loudest in the entire restaurant, but with Edgeworth footing the bill, insisting no expense be spared, their servers didn’t seem to mind too much.
“God, you’re obvious.” Klavier turned to see Ema pointing her chopsticks at him rather threateningly. “Y’know, if you wanted to sit with Apollo, you should’ve just said so instead of sitting here and staring at him like a pining Austen heroine.”
“You really should be careful with those,” Klavier commented, gently pushing her hand away. “And it’s fine, he obviously wants to sit with Trucy and Athena. We have time to chat later, ja?”
Sighing, Ema turned back to her plate, stuffing a piece of tamago into her mouth in the most irritated manner Klavier had ever seen someone eat. “I don’t even know why I’m bothering,” she said, taking a generous gulp of her beer. “Look, Gavin, I - you know I was there, on the other end of things. I saw how...how happy he looked after your phone calls, whenever you sent him a text...all I’m saying is, sitting around and doing nothing like you did before? You really think that’s gonna work?”
“The last thing he needs is for me to bother him while he’s still settling in,” Klavier said diplomatically. “Like I said, we’ll have time to talk...later. Let him breathe, bitte. He literally just got here.”
Ema’s mouth twisted. “I really don’t get you sometimes.” She seemed to be talking more to herself than to Klavier now. “Like, I’m trying to imagine some world in which I don’t tell Kay how I feel about her, and...I can’t do it. It’s physically, emotionally, scientifically impossible. My entire life would be different, you know?”
“With you and Kay, you knew the feeling was mutual from the start, ja?” Klavier glanced across the table, where Apollo was cracking up over some joke Athena had just told. “As for me...I still can’t be sure. Even with what you just said, it’s no guarantee. And I think, for the time being, we’re...we’re glücklich this way. We’re friends. Close friends, even.”
“He talked to you more than everyone else combined,” Ema reminded him. “I only managed to talk to Kay maybe twice a week if we were lucky.” Kay leaned around Ema to nod affirmatively in Klavier’s direction, a stray udon noodle hanging from her mouth. “But whatever, I’m really only telling you for Apollo’s sake. If this was just about you, I guarantee I wouldn’t care.”
“Sure, fräulein, whatever you say,” Klavier chuckled. “So, you were saying something earlier about apartments - ”
“Hey, Gavin.” Once again, Klavier nearly gave himself whiplash at the sound of Apollo’s voice; he wasn’t sure when Apollo had gotten out of his seat and come to their side of the table, but he certainly wasn’t complaining. “Sorry to interrupt, it’s just - can I talk to you for a sec? Outside, maybe?”
“Er - ja, sure.” Klavier shot Ema an apologetic smile, though she’d already gone back to stealing pieces of ginger off of Kay’s plate. He then followed Apollo through the restaurant and out the front door, the two of them coming to a stop on the sidewalk. “What’s this all about, then?”
“Nothing, I just - I needed some air,” Apollo admitted, taking a generous deep breath. “Don’t get me wrong, I-I’m glad to see everyone again, but it’s a little...crowded back there. And loud.”
“Very true,” Klavier agreed, leaning against the exterior wall. “So...I’m surprised you’re still standing. Aren’t you exhausted?”
“Ridiculously so,” Apollo chuckled. “I’m sure I’ll crash in like, a few hours. Mr. Wright’s couch could be a literal rock, and I’ll still be out cold for the next...I dunno, week? Month?”
“You mentioned something about getting an apartment in your old building, ja?” Klavier mused. “When’s that happening?”
“I move in next week...if I’m awake by then, that is,” Apollo added dryly. He then smirked. “You offering to help, Gavin?”
Klavier leaned in close, his own teasing smile playing on his lips. “If you want me, just let me know, Herr Forehead.” He couldn’t help but feel a little thrill go through him when Apollo’s pupils darkened considerably in response.
“I’ll, uh...I’ll keep that in mind,” Apollo replied, chewing his bottom lip thoughtfully. Klavier found himself momentarily distracted by the motion. “Hey, uh - what were you and Ema talking about before I cut in?”
Klavier paused for a little longer than he would've liked. “I...was asking her about her plans to find a new place with Kay. To be honest, I’m surprised it’s only happening now. They’ve been together for years, after all.”
“True, but...if it works for them, I guess,” Apollo shrugged. “Did you guys ever get around to playing laser tag?”
Klavier blinked. “Entschuldigung?”
“Before we left, remember?” Apollo said, biting back a laugh. “Ema told me to ask you if you wanted to do drinks or laser tag, so did you and Kay...y’know, hang out without us? Or have you been waiting for us to get back?”
“Ah, that,” Klavier said, laughing as well. “Nein, we never did get around to it, though we’ve had the occasional drink together. Remember that story I told you a few months ago, the one where she - ”
“ - where she got kicked out of the bar ‘cos she accidentally gave them a fake ID she’d been holding onto as evidence, yeah,” Apollo snorted, shaking his head. “Sounds like something that could literally happen to any of us.” He straightened up, taking a couple of steps back so he could clear his throat. “Anyway, we should hang out after I recover from my inevitable jetlag. Like, the four of us, I mean.”
“Er - right, ja, the four of us,” Klavier nodded, faltering slightly. Apollo looked at him questioningly but didn’t say anything, instead turning his gaze towards the street for a moment, watching the cars and the occasional motorcycle go by. Klavier supposed he was still getting used to all the noise again, or rather, the different kinds of noise. He’d heard the evening sounds of Khura’in through the phone many times, especially when Apollo went for a late-night walk and “brought” Klavier with him for company. It had been relatively peaceful, serene, in a way that California was decidedly not. “Apollo, I...do you want to…maybe we could...”
“Yeah?” Apollo looked up at him, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Klavier coughed. “...never mind. Maybe another time, when you’re not so tired, ja?”
“Oh.” Apollo frowned slightly. “Uh, sure.” He then brightened, gently nudging Klavier’s arm. “Hey, but maybe we can make a thing out of my move-in day, make it a casual housewarming hangout or whatever. You interested?”
“Always,” Klavier said softly, nudging him back. Grinning, Apollo wordlessly beckoned for Klavier to follow him back inside, back to their table. He didn’t need to glance in Ema’s direction to know she looked as disappointed in him as he felt.
_____
“Ach, Klavier. You’re pouting more than your cousin Ingrid, and she’s barely seven years old.”
Klavier looked up from his glass to shoot his father an apologetic grimace. “Sorry, Papa. It’s just - the timing is unfortunate, you know? Er, not that I don’t want to be here. Anja and her new bride look wunderschön, and it’s been so long since we’ve had a wedding in the family - ”
“Now you sound like your Uncle Oskar,” his father chuckled, clapping Klavier good-naturedly on the shoulder. The two of them were standing in what looked and felt like a fairytale, in a sea of blossoming flowers and sparkling lights on a beautiful, crisp Saturday morning. In the distance, Klavier could see his cousin - or was she a second cousin, or a cousin once removed, he could never remember - and her wife posing for their wedding photographer by the park gazebo, while everyone else not-so-patiently waited to be called over for group photographs. All of the younger ones were especially moody, especially the aforementioned Ingrid, who had fallen and scraped her knee mere minutes before the ceremony. The poor girl had refused to let anyone put a bandaid on her, electing to sulk in silent solitude on a park bench instead. “I know you wanted to be with your friends today, but...there will be other days, yes?”
“Ja, ja, ich weiß,” Klavier replied. “Today is Apollo’s little housewarming get-together, it would've been nice to be there. But still, I wouldn’t miss Anja’s wedding for the world.” He then swallowed, glancing down at his feet. “That is, that’s how I felt before we got here. But achtung, now I feel like a caged animal. After all this time, do they really think - ”
“Not one person here thinks you’re going the same way,” his father interjected sharply, his eyes fierce behind his wire-rimmed glasses. “You’re not him. You’re not. But their stares...unfortunately, I don’t think it can be helped.”
“The questions were so simple before,” Klavier muttered. “Remember when I came back for a couple of weeks, between legs of the Gavinners’ European tour, for cousin Leo’s wedding? All anyone wanted to know was - ‘ah, Klavier, how is your band doing? Are you still a prosecutor? When are you getting married?’. And now it’s - it’s ‘what’s going to happen to him now?’ and ‘what exactly is this dark age of the law everyone’s been talking about?’ and ‘did you know the whole time?’. It’s endless, ach.”
“Klavier - ”
“I didn’t ask for my life to revolve around his, okay?” Klavier managed to stop himself before he could shout; instead, his voice came out as a harsh whisper. Thankfully, no one else seemed to notice, carrying on with their conversations while they waited for the newlyweds to call on them. “So if people are going to continue to talk, to stare, then I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to see it. If I can’t have a normal conversation with my family members that aren’t you or Mama, then…” He shook his head; his hand was trembling, his champagne sloshing over the edge of his flute.
Sighing, his father squeezed Klavier’s shoulder a little firmer now. “...I can tell them you have a migraine if you’d like. Or how about a stomach bug? Though maybe a work emergency would sound a little more...dignified.”
Klavier let out a watery chuckle, clasping his hand over his father’s. “Danke, Papa, I appreciate it, but it’s fine. This is Anja’s day, not a day for me to whine and fuss. I can grin and bear it for her, ich verspreche. And I apologize for my...outburst.” His father shot him a sympathetic smile, then turned back to watch the happy couple while they waited for Klavier’s mother to return from the bathroom.
It was nearly two in the morning by the time Klavier collapsed face-first onto his bed, only to sit up in a panic for a moment, thinking he’d just smeared a full face of makeup onto his freshly-washed silk pillowcases, before remembering he’d managed to trudge his way through his skincare routine just moments ago. With a weary groan, he grabbed his phone and sent a quick text message; mere seconds later, his phone began to ring.
“Forehead? I didn’t actually expect you to be up.”
“Mik’s being a literal scaredy-cat about living in a new place, so I’m probably not gonna be able to sleep anytime soon,” Apollo said with a weary sigh. “So, how was the rest of the wedding? All the photos you sent looked incredible!”
“What can I say? Gavins have good taste,” Klavier replied, chuckling. He rolled onto his back, staring up at his ceiling. “It was...perfekt, the epitome of classic fairytale romance, really. The kind of wedding you see in children’s books, you know?”
“Sure.” Apollo’s voice was warm in Klavier’s ear. “Hey - you, uh, you okay? You sound...off.”
“Ja, ja, I’m just tired,” Klavier said, frowning slightly at his outstretched hand. Despite getting them done yesterday, his nails were already starting to chip. “How long did everyone end up staying for?”
“They left a little before midnight,” Apollo replied, yawning. “Trucy has a matinee show tomorrow - or today, I guess - or else she probably would’ve insisted on sleeping over. Would’ve been kinda nice, actually, i-it’s always a little weird being alone in a new place for the first time. Though I guess this makes up for it.”
“What makes up for it?” Klavier asked, confused.
Apollo snorted. “This phone call, you dork. It’s like last year all over again, except we’re finally in the same time zone now.”
“Ah - right,” Klavier said, letting out an awkward laugh. “Ja, this is nice, though...I assume we’re not making this a habit again, are we?”
“Nah, definitely not. But, y’know, every now and then for old time’s sake? I wouldn’t, uh, I wouldn’t mind it.” Klavier shivered. Apollo’s voice had dropped to a low murmur; it almost sounded as if he were in the room with him. Klavier remembered Apollo making a snarky comment or two whenever he caught a glimpse of Klavier’s apartment during their video calls, leaving him to wonder whether Apollo would ever want to see it for himself. “So, you wanna do something next week? I’m still on co-counsel duty until I’m ready to take my own cases again, so my schedule’s not too hectic.”
“What did you have in mind?” Klavier hummed.
“I’m up for whatever - er, within reason,” Apollo added. “It could, well. It could even be just you and me, if you want.”
Klavier’s mouth suddenly felt very dry. “...I think I’d like that, ja. Drinks, maybe? Friday?”
“Yeah, uh - ” Apollo cleared his throat. “ - yeah, sounds good. Text me the time and place whenever, okay? Though I guess we’re probably gonna see each other before then, so.”
“Definitely,” Klavier said quietly, sucking in a breath to stop himself from making a potentially embarrassing noise - a squeak of joy, maybe, or a nervous laugh; either one would be terrible. “Should I let you go, then? We didn’t usually talk this late, even when you were on the other side of the world.”
“Very true,” Apollo said, punctuating Klavier’s point by yawning again. “I think Mik’s finally settled down, anyway.” Then, he seemed to hesitate. “...you sure you’re good, Gavin?”
“Mir geht's gut,” Klavier promised. This time, it felt more like the truth. Though his quiet anger from earlier hadn’t quite dissipated, he was calmer now, more at ease. “Family events just take a lot out of me, that’s all. Inevitable, given how big my extended family is.”
Apollo fell silent for a moment. “Not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. I, uh...I wouldn’t know.”
“I think it depends on the family,” Klavier admitted. This time, both of them went quiet, contemplating Klavier’s sentiment. “...anyway, let’s not carry on and ruin our sleep schedules, ja? Gute Nacht, Forehead.”
“G’night, Gavin,” Apollo said softly. “Talk to you tomorrow.” Despite the usual raspy quality of Apollo’s voice, not to mention how sharp it could get, Klavier found it immensely comforting at times, its warmth like a thick blanket - or, more accurately, an oversized hoodie. Mere minutes after they hung up, Klavier drifted off into a deep, restful sleep.
_____
Friday, it seemed, was not meant to be. Much to Klavier’s quiet disappointment - though obviously, he understood, given the circumstances - Apollo had to cancel their plans after getting some truly life-changing news.
“I-I don’t even know where to begin,” Apollo had stammered on the phone, sounding as if he were on the verge of tears. “I - she’s my - a-and her eyes - sh-she came to see us, me a-and - ”
“Slow down, Apollo, slow down,” Klavier had said gently. “What’s going on? What happened?”
Apollo had taken a big, shuddering inhale. Then, he spoke again. “...Trucy is my little sister...a-and Lamiroir is...she’s...she’s...she’s Thalassa Gramarye. Our mother.”
The news traveled quickly throughout their social circle; naturally, it was Trucy who told everyone else, while Apollo still seemed to be reeling in shock. No one seemed to know what to say, not with everything they knew about the twists and turns and tragedies of their respective family histories. A week passed, then another, and another, as the two Gramarye siblings took some time off to reunite with their mother. Klavier dropped by the Wright Anything Agency every so often, hoping to see how they were doing, only to find just Phoenix and Athena there.
“Apollo almost punched me...again,” Phoenix had said quietly. If it wasn't for the seriousness of his expression, Klavier would've asked about the first time. “It’s because I knew. I knew a long time ago. And Trucy, she can’t seem to decide whether she’s upset with me or not. Can’t say I blame her, though Thalassa and I had our reasons.”
“I’m sure you did, Herr Wright,” Klavier had replied sincerely, though he didn’t push further. After all, it wasn’t his family drama this time, and as far as he was concerned, knowing what their reasons were wouldn’t have changed a thing.
Phoenix had then paused. “She told me she talked to you, by the way. Trucy, that is.” He let out a hollow laugh. “Even when she didn’t know, it was like...like she already knew. But I shouldn’t be surprised, not with her. Never with her.” Clearing his throat, he shot Klavier a gentle, genuine smile. “Thanks for being there for her, Prosecutor Gavin. I really appreciate it.”
“Of course,” Klavier had promised. “Herr Wright, before I go, I really should say something - ”
“If you’re about to do what I think you’re about to do...there’s no need,” Phoenix had interrupted, though not unkindly. “I’ve said it a few times, but I’ll say it again. Let’s put the past behind us, alright?”
Klavier had been taken aback. “...if you’re sure, then...ja, I hear you.”
Almost four weeks after Thalassa returned to her children’s lives, Klavier finally saw Apollo again, during a brief one-day trial. Once Apollo got his client acquitted, the two of them took a moment to sit on the courthouse steps together in stilted silence. “How is she?” Klavier asked. “How are you?”
“She’s…” Apollo sucked his breath in between his teeth. “...she’s still figuring things out. Remembering stuff. Trying to, uh...trying to learn how to be a mom to two adult children who...who grew up without her. And I dunno if it’s harder for me, o-or for Trucy, because I accepted my whole life that...that my mom just wasn’t around. But Trucy lost her. She knew her, loved her, lost her...and now she’s back. Not that it’s a competition, it’s just…” He managed to give Klavier a small smile. “We’ll be fine. It’s just weird and confusing a-and...but we’re fine. Sorry I’ve been so - ”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” Klavier said, gently nudging him. “So, are you going to see her again today?”
“Yeah, we’re gonna drop by for dinner tonight,” Apollo replied. “We’ll hang out again soon, I swear.”
“Don’t worry about me, Forehead. Take care of yourself first, ja?” Klavier chuckled, patting Apollo’s knee. “Anyway, I should get going before the paparazzi catch wind of me. Auf Wiedersehen, baby. Have a good time tonight.” As he was leaving, he took a moment to watch Apollo walk over to the courthouse bike rack to join Trucy, who was patiently waiting for him. The moment she spotted him, she flung her arms around his shoulders, pulling him in for a hug, as if they’d been apart for years and not mere minutes.
The days continued to go by without them seeing much of each other, though they did continue to text on a regular basis, even having the occasional late-night phone call or two. Klavier also managed to chat with Trucy when he dropped by the agency one afternoon in the hopes that she would be there.
“I’m okay,” Trucy had told him. “We’re still getting used to it, but it’s definitely one of the best surprises I’ve ever had! I’ve been saying this whole time that Polly’s like a little big brother to me, and now…”
“And now it’s true,” Klavier had remarked, laughing. “I’m happy for all of you, fräulein, truly. And thinking back...what a strange family reunion. All because I invited her to perform with the Gavinners. Er, not to make this about me, of course.”
“Of course,” Trucy had echoed, giggling as well. “You would never do that.”
Klavier had rolled his eyes good-naturedly, which only served to make her laugh even harder. His expression then sobered. “Have you told either of them about...what you told me and Herr Wright?”
“Huh?...o-oh. That.” Trucy had fiddled with the ends of her cape, eyes fixated on the toes of her boots. “No, n-not yet. It’s too early. We only just discovered the truth, why would I ruin that with my silly problems?”
“They’re not silly at all,” Klavier had reassured her. “They’re...I know a little something about family legacy. Carrying a name that belongs to someone else. Talk to them about it when the time is right, ja?”
“I know, I know,” Trucy had mumbled, her voice small. She then perked up, plastering on a false smile that Klavier was all too familiar with. “You should join us someday, Prosecutor Gavin! I’m sure she’d like to see you again, and Polly’s been dying to spend more time with you.”
Klavier felt warm. “Really? Did he say that?”
“Well, not in so many words,” Trucy had said sheepishly. “But we’ve been so busy with Mom lately that neither of us has really had time to hang out with people other than Daddy and Athena, y’know? So...maybe we could do another group dinner or something.”
And so, a little over a month and a half after their canceled plans, Trucy managed to get a smaller group of people together - her, Apollo, Athena, Klavier, Simon, Pearl, Juniper, Ema, and Kay, to be exact - for a rather chaotic visit to their nearest night market. Considering how narrow the pathways were, how packed the food stalls could be, it was hard for them to move as a collective through the crowds.
“We might have an easier time if we split up,” Apollo suggested. “And, uh, as a bonus, people would stop glaring at us for holding up literally every line.” And so, everyone divided themselves into pairs - or a trio, in Athena, Simon, and Juniper’s case - and went on their way.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go with Trucy?” Klavier asked once he and Apollo were in line for freshly-made takoyaki.
“Listen, and I say this with love, but I’ve been looking forward to hanging out with someone who isn’t Trucy for once,” Apollo said, chuckling. “Besides, we never got around to getting drinks. So let me pay for, like, a milk tea or something.”
“That’s hardly necessary, but danke,” Klavier said, smiling easily. “So, has it finally sunk in yet? Your newfound big brother status, that is.”
“Thankfully, not that kind of big brother,” Apollo said dryly. “Honestly, it hasn’t been that different. Me and Trucy have always looked out for each other, and...I dunno. We got attached pretty quickly, almost like we, uh...like we knew somehow. Like everything about our relationship made even more sense than before.” He then let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Never mind, that probably sounds really stupid - ”
“Nein, not at all,” Klavier murmured sympathetically.
“I don’t believe in fate or whatever, but...I couldn’t ask for a better sister,” Apollo admitted, his expression softening. “Though to be fair, I can ask said sister to stop dragging me on stage with her. I almost lost my eyebrows more than once, and once is already one time too many!”
“You did say better, not perfect,” Klavier teased, laughing. “So, what do you want to do tonight? Are we just stuffing our faces, or did you want to walk around? That bouncy castle looks sehr interessant.”
“Yeah, sure, if we wanna get kicked out,” Apollo snorted. “And I’m not sure yet, I was just gonna go with whatever everyone else wanted. When I used to come here all the time with...with…” His face fell. “Um. You know. He was so eager to try everything, I-I just let him drag me around. Literally.” Klavier looked away for a moment, unsure of what to say. Apollo then tugged on his sleeve so he would turn back, a small smile on his face. “Hey, c’mon. I’m the one who made it weird, don’t you make it weird, too.”
Klavier chuckled, placing his hand over Apollo’s and squeezing. “Why don’t you lead for a change? I mean it, Forehead, what do you want to do tonight?”
“Honestly? I just wanna eat and drink and laugh at the terrible knock-off merchandise with, uh. With you.” Apollo awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. Before Klavier could respond, they’d reached the front of the line; Apollo turned to the merchant with a polite smile. “Hi, can we get one order of takoyaki, please? And can we get the sauces on the side?”
“Sure, that’ll be seven dollars,” the merchant replied. “Is this just for you, or are you sharing with your boyfriend?”
Apollo blinked. “Er, s-sorry?”
“I need to know how many toothpicks to give you,” the merchant said, shooting Apollo a strange look.
“I, uh…” Apollo cleared his throat. Klavier looked at him curiously, unsure if Apollo’s reaction was promising or worrying. “Yeah, we’re sharing.”
Once they received their order, they went to stand a little ways away from the crowd to eat and people-watch in companionable silence. Klavier stole the occasional glance in Apollo’s direction every so often, admiring how good he looked in a bucket hat, denim cutoffs, and of course, the hoodie he’d given him. Other than his signature red suit vest, it seemed to be the item of clothing he wore the most these days. Klavier wondered if it still smelled of his cologne, the cologne that Apollo claimed to hate.
“Gavin?” Apollo raised an eyebrow at him. “Can I, um...can I help you?”
“Ah - entschuldigung, I didn’t mean to stare,” Klavier said, ducking his head in embarrassment. “It just surprises me whenever you wear that, you know? Surely, you have other hoodies.”
“I’ve just gotten used to it, I guess,” Apollo shrugged. “And it’s weird, ‘cos it’s yours, but now I mostly associate it with Khura’in. Like, whenever I went for walks before or after work, this was usually the first thing I grabbed, even when it was too warm for me to wear. Something to hold onto, I s’pose.” His eyes suddenly lit up. “Hey - new idea!”
Klavier chuckled at his sudden enthusiasm. “Oh? What’s that?”
“Over there,” Apollo said, gesturing towards the river running alongside the night market. Other market patrons were there as well, eating, talking, and admiring the city skyline. “It’s definitely no Khura’inese scenery, but we could also grab some food and go for a walk, get away from the main crowd and all that.”
“I’d like that,” Klavier replied, popping the last piece of takoyaki into his mouth. “What should we get next, then?”
After much deliberation, the two of them settled on milk tea and crepes, then began walking alongside the river, chatting amicably about nothing in particular while occasionally spotting their friends in the distance. They saw Trucy and Pearl sharing a giant bowl of shaved ice, Ema and Kay marveling at all of the bags for sale - Ema had once mentioned she needed a new one to fit her entire forensics kit - while Athena and Simon were, for some reason, arm-wrestling. Juniper was supervising them with a hint of apprehension in her eyes; Athena appeared to be winning.
As they passed by people going in the opposite direction, Klavier lowered the brim of his cap over his eyes. He felt somewhat nervous, even paranoid, every single time someone looked at him for a little too long. “Not too interested in signing autographs or taking selfies, huh?” Apollo teased when it happened for the fifth time in under twenty minutes. “Nah, I get it. I’m sure it gets pretty exhausting after a while.”
“It’s...it’s not fans I’m worried about,” Klavier confessed, ducking his head once more. “It’s...the opposite, really.”
“Huh?” Apollo’s eyes then widened. “Oh, you mean...o-oh. Has that been happening a lot lately, or…?”
“Just...more than it should,” Klavier said quietly, so quietly that Apollo almost couldn’t hear him over the noise of the night market. “Anyway, I’d rather not get into it. Tell me more about your mother, you said the other day that her memories were coming back to her, ja?”
Apollo eyed him worriedly, but decided not to comment. “Yeah, yeah, uh - mostly stuff about Trucy, and Trucy’s dad, and her time with the troupe. Not so much the before, the me and...and my dad part. It was...I tried asking her, y’know, basic stuff about him. Like what his voice sounded like, what kind of person he was...but it’s all bits and pieces for her. Little tiny things, not significant details. She remembered that he didn’t like spinach and he had a pair of lucky socks, but she wasn’t sure if my voice sounded anything like his, or how they picked my name, or what their first date was. Stuff like that.” He visibly swallowed.
“I’m sure that must have been frustrating for both of you,” Klavier said, humming in sympathy.
“I don’t know what to feel sometimes.” An odd look crossed Apollo’s face then, like he wasn’t sure where his words had come from, but he seemed determined to keep going. “Obviously, I-I’m happy to have her in my life, and to see her doing so well after what she went through, but...it’s not like I had this...this attachment to my dad that she did. And sure, I wanna know more about him, but sometimes, i-it feels like I’m doing it more for her than for me. But that makes me sound like a shitty person, like I-I don’t care about him. Like he doesn’t mean anything to me.”
Klavier went silent for a moment, thinking. It was hard to concentrate when he could hear Apollo’s breath growing increasingly erratic; he so desperately wanted to wrap him up in a hug, though he wasn’t sure if Apollo would want him to. “If you ask me, you sound like a good person who cares about his mother,” he finally said after some time. “And even if your biological father isn’t as important to you as he was to her, he still means something to you. You know that.”
“Do I?” Apollo chuckled wetly, wiping his damp eyes with the sleeve hem of his hoodie. “And Trucy - god, Trucy, sh-she’s…”
“What about her?” Klavier asked, frowning.
“It’s not like either of us likes to think about it, but…” Apollo chewed his bottom lip. “If something happened to Mom, then...well. It’s not like it’s new to us...losing people. When do I get to the point where I can accept it? Where I know...I-I can’t do anything to stop it?” He let out another horrible laugh. “Shit, that sounded so heartless. Th-that’s not what I meant, I - ”
“I know what you meant,” Klavier promised somewhat sadly. “Have you talked to her about it? Or...either of them, really.”
“No, but it...it’s why Trucy wants us to hang out practically every day.” Apollo stopped for a moment, turning to watch Trucy, who was currently shoveling huge spoonfuls of shaved ice and red bean into her mouth, with a fond smile. “She won’t say it, but I-I know her. I can tell what she’s thinking. Even before we found out we were siblings, she seemed...kinda worried that I was gonna leave again. Or that I wasn’t gonna come back in the first place, even when I said I would.”
“Maybe it’s time you have that conversation,” Klavier suggested. “It won’t be a pleasant conversation, but it seems...necessary, ja?”
Apollo exhaled shakily. “Yeah, I know, I know. It’s just...there’s always something. A trial o-or a show or whatever. But, uh, honestly? I just don’t like thinking about it. Like, ever.”
“I don’t blame you,” Klavier admitted, rubbing Apollo’s arm reassuringly. “I wouldn’t want to open myself up to that kind of personal scrutiny, either.” He paused. “I...gave Trucy some similar advice a while back, you know. Advice that I should’ve taken myself, should still be taking myself, but...it’s like they say. Easier said than done.”
“Easier said than done,” Apollo echoed in agreement, sighing.
Another minute or two passed in silence, accompanied by the noisy chatter and whistling winds around them. Apollo seemed to be thinking intensely about something, but with everything they’d talked about, not just now, but over the past year, Klavier couldn’t even begin to guess what it was. Then, he lifted his head to look Klavier right in the eye. “Why did you call me in Khura’in, that first time?”
Klavier’s heart skipped a beat. “...why does it matter?”
“Because...because you’re one of my favorite people, too.” Apollo’s cheeks reddened, though he was clearly trying his best to ignore it. “And I - I wanna know if something happened that day. If...something happened to you.”
“Nothing happened to me,” Klavier said smoothly, trying not to let his dizzying joy at Apollo’s words show. “Trucy suggested I call you sometime, that’s all. Simple as that.”
Apollo’s right hand instantly went to his left wrist. “But that’s not all there is to it, is it?”
“Is this a cross-examination now?” Klavier asked, letting out an uneasy laugh. He turned on his heel and continued to walk. “You’re going to find my tell, are you? My nervous habit? It’s a nice night, Forehead, let’s not spoil it.”
“I just wanna understand you, Klavier.” Klavier stopped dead in his tracks; he could feel Apollo’s eyes on his back. “Look, if it’s such a big secret, or if you just don’t wanna tell me, I-I’ll shut up about it already. But I just - I worry about you sometimes. You’re always so...so calm. And helpful, a-and sweet, and...I get what it’s like to put on a brave face. To pretend that everything’s the way it should be. That’s all I’m saying. So if it really was nothing, then I’ll drop it, okay? I’ll let it go, and move - ”
“I was sitting in my childhood bedroom.” Now he felt lightheaded for a different reason; Klavier dropped his gaze, his body swaying despite the fact he was standing perfectly still. Apollo quickly stepped around him so they were face-to-face, tucking his empty cup under his arm so he could hold Klavier’s shoulders, his still-wet eyes shining with concern. “I was sitting on my bed, staring at the wall, and suddenly, I-I wanted to talk to the one person in the entire world who - who doesn’t want something from me. Who doesn’t want to ask for my autograph, or my connections, or my help, or...or about Kristoph. Who just wants to talk to me for - for - for me.” Before he could stop himself, his eyes were suddenly filling with tears. Klavier clapped a hand over his mouth to stop himself from crying out.
Apollo let out a stifled noise. “Ah - Klavier!”
“Mama, a-and Papa, I - they say they can’t - that it - b-but they still mourn him l-like he’s already - already gone,” Klavier managed to say between short, gasping breaths, his heartbeat pounding alarmingly fast in his ears. He desperately clutched at his chest, but he was unable to find his grip. The ground, his surroundings, they all seemed to be spinning around him. “And I-I want to say - ‘I’m still here, y-you have me’ - and they know, but th-they - ”
“Breathe, Klavier, breathe,” Apollo urged. “Look at me, watch me, okay? In...out...in...”
Klavier dropped his cup entirely, desperately clinging onto Apollo’s shoulders, anticipating that his knees were about to give out beneath him. He swallowed a few generous lungfuls of air, trying not to cough or exhale directly in Apollo’s face, all while his eyes were fixated on Apollo’s - large, round, expressive to a fault. The color of melted chocolate, usually, though in the moonlight, more akin to the color of ink. “I’m okay,” Klavier whispered, though tears were still rolling down his cheeks. “Sorry, I - ”
“Don’t apologize,” Apollo said firmly. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean to - we don’t - we don’t have to talk about this.”
“Nein, I - I want to tell you.” Klavier cleared his throat, wiping his face on his sleeve; he knew he looked like a mess, he knew that they were in public, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “Bitte, will you let me?”
“Yeah, o-of course.” Now it was Apollo's turn to rub his arm comfortingly. “But, uh, I think we should sit. There’s a bench over there, are you good to move?”
Once they managed to sit down, both of them visibly shaking, Apollo placed a trembling hand on Klavier’s knee, nodding for him to try again. “I was trying to say that - that I’ve always been our parents’ favorite. I was more outgoing, more curious, and I think they especially liked that about me.” Klavier’s breath was still shallow; he paused to take another deep, measured breath. “So when I say that...that I feel responsible somehow...that I played a part in his madness, his cruelty...I-I’m not just talking about Zak Gramarye’s trial.”
“You don’t mean…” Apollo sucked in a breath of his own. “You think he resented you, don’t you?”
“I think it’s more like...he never liked getting ignored, passed over, for someone else. For me, for Herr Wright…” Klavier swallowed thickly. “And then I go home to my parents, a-and they promise me it’s not my fault, that I was merely a pawn, but - but I can tell that, deep down, they miss him. They mourn him, like he’s no longer here. They're packing his things, cleaning out his room...trying to pretend he never existed, because it’s easier than living with the truth. But they slip sometimes. All the time, really. Because, at the end of the day...he still means something to them. To me.”
“Klavier,” Apollo said softly, squeezing Klavier’s knee. He seemed unsure of what to say.
“I can try all I want, but there’s no pretending for me,” Klavier continued bitterly, his voice growing stronger, louder. “Do reporters want to ask about my success as a prosecutor or my music career? Nein, they want to ask how it felt to prosecute my own brother and my own bandmate. Do my coworkers want to know how my weekend was or if I’m free to hang out? Nein, they only ask how I’m feeling when I seem less than perfect because it makes them uncomfortable. When I go to family gatherings, do they tease me about my love life or ask me how work is going? Nein, they want to know if he and I really are cut from the same cloth. No one - no one ever really wants to ask me about me. Just me.”
“Klavier - ”
“And I know they try,” Klavier sighed. “And I don’t mean to be...I’m trying not to ask for much. But how do I really know, that when Herr Edgeworth tells me I’m doing a good job, that I really am doing a good job? If Herr Blackquill tells me I seem to be happier these days, does he mean it, o-or is he telling me what he knows I want to hear?” He paused. “How do I...do I trust any of my family members - nein, how do I trust my own judgment...when the one person I grew up with...when he...when the people I-I thought I knew turned out to be...” He shook his head, unable to finish his sentence.
“For what it’s worth...you know I'm in your corner, yeah?” Apollo offered. “You know I won't...that I don't bullshit you. But still, I...I’m so sorry, that’s...that’s terrible. So when you texted me after your cousin’s wedding...”
Klavier nodded resignedly. “Ja, exactly. I don’t...it feels like…” He felt tears forming in his eyes again; he quickly wiped them away before they could fall. “...never mind, it’s stupid. It’s childish, i-it’s selfish, I - ”
“C’mon, don’t be like that.” Apollo gave him a watery, encouraging smile. “What is it?”
Klavier went silent for what felt like hours, his mind racing to find the precise words he wanted to say. “...it feels like I will always care more about someone else than they will ever care about me.”
Another lengthy pause soon followed, one that made Klavier unbearably nervous. For once, Apollo’s usually expressive face was completely inscrutable. Then, Apollo practically threw himself at Klavier, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him in close. “Klavier,” he repeated for what seemed like the thousandth time, his voice warm and urgent in Klavier’s ear. “People care about you, okay? You gotta know that. I-I promise, there are people out there who - who care about you more than you think. Like...like me.”
Klavier let out a sobbing, incredulous laugh. “Achtung, Apollo...you do know that I’m in love with you, right?”
Apollo went still. He stared at him, wide-eyed. “You...you are?”
“You mean you really didn’t know?” Klavier could only laugh again, more hopelessly this time; his mouth seemed to be moving faster than his brain. While it usually never happened to him, it seemed like Apollo brought out his honesty more easily than most. He wasn’t sure if that impressed him or terrified him. “With everything that’s been happening between us, you didn’t think - ”
“I-I knew we were getting closer, th-that we were gonna go for drinks, but...I-I thought this was, like. A recent thing for you,” Apollo stammered, still staring at him disbelievingly.
“A recent thing? You mean like your feelings...for me?” Klavier was almost afraid to ask.
“What? No, I - ” Apollo suddenly seemed to realize he still had his arms loosely draped around Klavier’s midsection. He yanked them back like he’d been burned, his cheeks flushed pink. “I mean, yes, yes, d-definitely recent - ”
“Apollo, bitte.” Klavier took Apollo’s hands in his, gently running his thumbs across Apollo’s knuckles. “I know you don’t owe me your honesty, but I’d like to think that after everything I just said, you could afford me just a little bit of it.”
Apollo fell silent, considering. Klavier held his breath in anticipation, heart thumping wildly against his ribcage. Then, Apollo withdrew one hand from Klavier’s grasp, instead lifting it to cup Klavier’s jaw. His eyes were wet once more, his smile impossibly soft. “I hate that you feel like you have to ask for someone else to be honest to you...least of all me,” Apollo murmured. “I-I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine - ”
“But it isn’t!” Apollo interrupted fiercely. “You shouldn’t have to ask for basic decency, especially from someone who’s supposed to care about you. Because - ‘cos god, Klavier, you - you’re - I love you, okay?” Klavier’s mouth fell open, stunned, but no words came out. “I love you and your...your…” Apollo inhaled yet again, taking a moment to think carefully. “You always surprise me, y’know. With how...willing you are to be proven wrong. How open you are to changing your mind. And even though you’re one of the most self-important people I’ve ever met...you still manage to be pretty selfless when it comes down to it. So selfless, that...that...that it worries me sometimes.”
“Worries...you?” Klavier asked, his voice small.
Apollo shot him a shaky smile. “Whether you’re looking out for yourself.”
“I think the last thing anyone could accuse me of is not making something about me,” Klavier said, chuckling wetly. “Take now, for example. We were having such a nice night, until - ”
“ - until you finally got the chance to say what you’ve been wanting to say,” Apollo finished for him. “Just like...like I did. Just now.”
Klavier’s eyes flitted across Apollo’s face, his gaze traveling from his tearful eyes to his parted lips, trying to find a sign, a warning that there was something there other than complete sincerity. When he found nothing, he cracked a grin of his own. “You really love me?”
In lieu of answering, Apollo moved closer, his forehead resting against Klavier’s, their noses barely brushing. Klavier’s breath hitched. Then, Apollo closed the gap between them, kissing him so tenderly, so carefully, that he felt a pleasant shiver go up his spine. Finally. Klavier melted right into him, every muscle in his body seemingly relaxing all at once; he released Apollo’s hand so he could wrap his arms around him, pulling him into his embrace. Apollo was so warm, Klavier thought, his skin surprisingly soft, his lips unsurprisingly rough, not that it lessened Klavier’s joy. Nothing else seemed to matter in that moment, not all the people walking by that could easily see them, not the fact that their friends could probably recognize them if they tried. When they reluctantly broke apart, they realized that they both had tears running down their faces.
“..shit.” Apollo let out a wet laugh, sniffling sharply. He reached into the pocket of his hoodie to pull out a packet of tissues, handing one to Klavier before attempting to take care of himself. “That was, uh - ”
“Perfect,” Klavier declared, his grin so wide, it threatened to split his face open.
“I was gonna say ‘gross’, but okay. Whatever you’re into, I guess,” Apollo teased, turning away momentarily to blow his nose. A comfortable silence fell over them as they took a moment to clean themselves up, to wipe their running noses and watery eyes. “Um, but - Klavier, are you okay? Because, well. That seemed like a lot.”
“Ja, I…” Klavier laughed disbelievingly. “...I feel incredible, actually. Like I’ve managed to...to let go of some of the things I’ve been carrying for a little too long. Even if I didn't do anything but drop them.” He then looked at Apollo. “What about you, liebe? We were talking about you, and then it became about me, and - ”
“That’s how conversations work, Klav,” Apollo reminded him. “And all that...I dunno, guilt, loneliness, whatever you wanna call it? That’s been going on for way too long. But for me, it’s...I-I’m still figuring some stuff out. Something I can deal with once I know, y’know?”
“If you’re sure. But...I’m here if you need me, ja? Always.” Klavier brushed a few loose strands of hair out of Apollo’s eyes, then leaned in to kiss him again. This particular kiss was thankfully less damp. “So, ah...what should we do now?”
“Well...I think all that crying made me dehydrated,” Apollo said half-jokingly. He stood, extending a hand in Klavier’s direction. “Will you finally let me pay for one of your drinks? Please?”
“I guess I can indulge you,” Klavier teased, taking Apollo’s hands and getting to his feet as well. Apollo rolled his eyes but pulled Klavier along nonetheless. Their fingers remained entangled, both of them holding on tight, even when they stepped back into the night market crowd.
_____
A few hours later, they found themselves in the elevator of Klavier’s apartment building, on the way up to his penthouse, grinning giddily at each other like lovesick teenagers. Naturally, the others had been suspicious when Apollo told them they were leaving together. Trucy, Athena, and Kay seemed ready to burst with questions, while Ema and Simon had merely watched them go with raised eyebrows. Still, no one said anything but their goodbyes, something both of them were grateful for.
“You look like you’re thinking really hard over there,” Apollo said, smirking. “You’re not changing your mind, are you?”
“Never,” Klavier replied instantly. Even though he knew Apollo was joking, he wanted to make it clear that he wasn’t. “Not when it comes to you.”
Apollo’s smile softened. “Good. That’s, uh...that’s good. Same here.”
After they’d washed up and settled in, the two of them collapsed onto Klavier’s bed, right on top of his duvet, comfortably exhausted from everything that had been said and done. Apollo was half-curled into Klavier’s side, yawning every so often while he sent off a few text messages, presumably to Trucy and their mother. Klavier had one hand in Apollo’s hair and the other loosely resting on Apollo’s hip, humming and tapping out a rhythm while he waited for Apollo to finish.
“Sorry,” Apollo said, briefly rolling over so he could set his phone down on the bedside table.
“Nein, nein, it’s okay,” Klavier replied. “I don’t know about you, but I’m wide awake. How am I supposed to fall asleep after a night like that, achtung.”
“Yeah, we definitely had, uh...we definitely had a moment back there.” Apollo sounded both embarrassed and pleased. “God, I hope no one saw us. I have zero interest in becoming a trending hashtag before our first date.”
“You don’t consider this our first date?” Klavier asked curiously.
“I prefer my first dates to be drama-free, thanks,” Apollo drawled. Still, his expression was relaxed, somewhat drowsy. “Though I think, in a way...we kinda needed that. Wish it hadn’t happened in public, but hey, we can’t exactly pick our battles.” At Klavier’s responding chuckle, he frowned slightly. “Klav? What is it?”
“Nothing, it’s just - mein Gott, I love you.” Klavier rested his forehead against Apollo’s, his smile warm and open. Apollo returned it with one of his own, his hands resting against Klavier’s chest, Klavier’s heartbeat steady beneath his fingertips. “I know we still have a lot to deal with, but...right now? I couldn’t care less. I’m just...I’m so happy.”
Grinning, Apollo shuffled closer, kissing him chastely. They exchanged slow, meandering kisses for a few minutes, fingers lightly pressed into each other’s sides, legs loosely tangled together. “...dork.”
“Your response is supposed to be ‘I love you, too’, liebe,” Klavier hinted, eliciting a delighted laugh from Apollo’s mouth. “But seriously, I mean it. I really do feel...free.”
“Good,” Apollo said affectionately, cupping Klavier’s face with both hands. “Look, I - I know all that stuff you’re feeling isn’t gonna magically go away, just like that, but...if you still need to hear it…” He then turned his head, his lips brushing against Klavier’s ear. “...it wasn’t your fault. It was his, all his. And people legitimately care about you for reasons that have nothing to do with him or your fame or their own motives. So try not to let anyone make you think otherwise, okay?” Klavier shivered. “And I love you, too. Dork.”
“Ach,” Klavier said, sniffling. “You’re going to make me cry again, baby. How dare you call me a dork.” Apollo burst into laughter once more, burying his face in the crook of Klavier’s neck with a satisfied hum. They went quiet for a little while longer, simply holding each other and enjoying the stillness of the night. “I do have...one last little worry, though.”
“Yeah?” Apollo ran his thumb across Klavier’s cheek. “What is it?”
“I...part of me is worried, that…” Klavier paused, taking a moment to choose his words carefully. “After everything we’ve been through...do you really think this is going to work? Or do you think that we just hope that it will?”
“No use in pretending like we know for sure,” Apollo said honestly. “There’s a million things that could go wrong, y’know? We could get into a really bad argument, we could have problems separating work from our personal lives - hell, we might be better off as friends…”
“Ever the optimist, aren’t you?” Klavier teased.
“Oh, hush.” Apollo kissed Klavier to silence him. The two of them became momentarily distracted, wrapped up in each other’s embrace once more. Klavier wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to let Apollo go in the morning, not when they’d both waited this long. “All I’m saying is, as long as we try, then…” Apollo’s kiss-bitten lips then stretched into a fond grin. “...I think we’re gonna do just fine.”
_____
a/n: Welcome to my seventh and final entry for Klapollo Week 2021! Continuity-wise, this is the third of seven fics, but again, there is no need to read the others to follow each fic on its own. However, this fic is best read after day five's, meet me halfway (across the sky), so I would recommend reading that one to fully understand the first half of this fic!
Y'all, I can't believe it's finally over! I feel like I've been working on these fics for ages (and I've fallen behind on others; we'll see if I end up getting two fics out in July like I originally planned), especially this one and day five's. Thank you to the lovelies who organized Klapollo Week, this was super fun to do! I got a little overambitious for sure, but I liked how they turned out. In doing this, I definitely learned that short(er) fics aren't really my thing; I had a good time writing them, but I'm not a concise writer, so I struggled with getting a good balance of plot and details for the fics that were under six thousand words. In fact, I low-key wanna write fuller versions of all of them 😅
If you missed any of the other days, I would love it if you checked them out! My personal favorites are the odd-numbered days, also known as the ones with angst. I'm thinking that sometime next year, I'll write a super long version of meet me halfway (across the sky) where Klavier eventually gets to be with Apollo in Khura'in. Knowing me, that thing will be a monster of fifty-thousand-word proportions. In the meantime, if you're interested in finding out what I'll be posting next, you can filter my fanfiction masterpost by "coming soon"!
Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Likes and reblogs would be much appreciated. Hoping you’re all safe and healthy and doing well ❤️
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A Court Rebuilt
By: SassyShoulderAngel319
Fandom/Character(s): A Court of Thorns and Roses Series/Tamlin, Rhysand, Feyre
Rating: PG/K+ 
Original Idea: I have no idea where this one came from. I just thought, “What if Rhys’ sister actually survived?” and made a few detail alterations and wrote this.
Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) Don’t really have anything else to say here besides: again, I have not read ACOSF and dunno if I’m going to, but there were loose ends I wanted to tie up. Enjoy!
^^^^^
I’d intended to winnow to the edge of the wards surrounding the manor and then walk to the front doors on foot.
I was quite surprised when I just landed on the front porch. There was no trace of the wards. No protections around the manor house. None that I could detect anyway. The front door was slightly open.
I dismissed my wings before I left home, but I felt the phantom feeling of them shuddering as I pushed the door open a little more.
Inside, the grand entrance was dusty. Dark.
Empty.
I reached out with my magic, searching for the presence of the High Lord of the manor. Please don’t be dead, I thought.
There he was. In the back. The kitchen, if I remembered correctly. It had been centuries since I’d been here, and even then I’d been very young, for a High Fae. His presence was powerful, incredible, but nowhere near the scale and scope of Rhysand’s.
I stayed on alert as I made my way through the manor, heading toward the kitchen. But there were no sounds. No servants bustling around. No sentries patrolling the garden or the halls. The manor was little more than an empty shell. An unkempt, hollow husk of its former glory and beauty.
I made it to the kitchen. The door was wide open.
Instead of going in, I leaned against the doorframe.
Tamlin’s back was to me. He looked… wan. The kitchen was barely in better shape than the rest of the house.
He stiffened as he realized he wasn’t alone, but didn’t whirl around, claws out, to defend himself. Didn’t even turn to see me. I wondered if he knew it was me without looking. He didn’t seem to indicate so.
“Good morning,” I said.
That was when he whirled. His eyes—once the vibrant green of budding trees, now dull—widened as he took me in. “You’re supposed to be dead. Centuries ago,” he said.
“Well, technically, I have you to thank for the fact that I’m not,” I replied. “Do you remember?”
“Get out,” Tamlin snarled. There was no beastly bite to the words. No fangs in his mouth. I didn’t move. Just folded my arms. “Does your perfect brother know you’re here?”
“No. I’d like to keep it that way. I didn’t come to fight, Tamlin. I came to thank you, actually. For delaying your father and brothers long enough that I managed to survive. Yes, my head was bleeding profusely as I drifted downstream. Yes, I nearly drowned and my wings were mostly torn off. Yes, I’m still gloriously furious about it. But when Rhys found me alive and got me home to heal, I was still thankful you stopped your father from finishing me off long enough for me to survive.”
“Are you done?”
“Not yet.” I held my hand out. A small sheaf of papers appeared on my palm. I set it on the kitchen table. “I’ve spent the last week brainstorming ways to rebuild your court. Feyre isn’t sorry for the devastation she left behind; and frankly I don’t think she should be. I certainly am not, given how you treated her after what happened Under the Mountain. But the fact remains that the Spring Court borders the mortal lands, and a strong border is necessary to keep any faeries with bad intentions out of there, and any mortals who have a death wish away from here. Tarquin is fine leaving some of his sentries on the border for as long as necessary, but eventually it would be most beneficial for the Spring Court to monitor its own lands.”
Tamlin growled. A deep, low, guttural sound that made braver faeries than me shudder. As it was, I grew up with Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian. Tamlin didn’t scare me. “Get out,” he snapped again.
“Those papers have a few different detailed plans for building your court up again. You can use any one you like. Or you can use none of them. That’s your choice. This isn’t the Night Court sticking its nose in the affairs of your court. Like I said, my brother doesn’t even know I’m here. This is just one person who owes you their life trying to get yours back on track. I didn’t spend the past week drafting those plans out of the goodness of my heart. I did it to make us even. I’ve spent centuries being dead to the outside world. Everywhere except home. And, if anyone asks you who came up with this, they won’t believe you if you say I gave them to you. It would be in your best interest, anyway, to say you came up with it yourself. Show you’re still strong.
“But right now, someone needed to kick you in the pants in the right direction. And since I owed you and you didn’t even know it, I figured it could be me.” I shrugged.
Tamlin’s lip curled. “You sound like your self-righteous brother.”
Don’t pick a fight, don’t pick a fight, don’t pick a fight, I reminded myself. Rhys wasn’t self-righteous. He could be cold and calculating sometimes, but his instincts were usually right. I had to remind myself that Tamlin was bitter and broken after everything. He’d been kicked after he was already down, and lashing out.
I wanted to put on the cold, amused, wicked mask Rhys used to wear as the High Lord of the terrifying Night Court; but that mask had never belonged to me, and I would never find it comfortable. “After our parents died, he was the one who finished raising me, so I suppose that would make sense,” I said levelly instead. “I’m trying to help you, Tamlin. For your sake as well as well as the sake of Prythian as a whole. Use my ideas or don’t—I owe you nothing now.”
He snarled again. I summoned my wings and flared them.
“Get some rest, Tamlin. You look tired,” I said.
As he snapped his teeth, I winnowed out of the manor. Back home.
The antechamber of the townhouse between the front door and the frosted glass door greeted me. I stepped through the frosted glass door.
My brother was waiting for me in the sitting room, lounging on the sofa. “Where have you been?” His tone was casual, but I sensed there was some irritation behind it.
“Out,” I replied.
“I guessed as much,” he said.
“Didn’t realize I had to report all of my comings and goings to you.” My words held more bite than I intended, but I managed not to flinch at them.
Rhys picked up a crystal glass with a knuckle length of liquid in it from the side table and eyed me over the top of it as he took a sip. “You don’t,” he finally said. “But I would appreciate being told you’re going out and when you think you’ll be back so I don’t worry about you when I wake up and find you gone.”
“He turned the whole house upside down looking for you!” Feyre called from the kitchen.
I instantly felt guilty. “Did you not see my note?” I asked.
“What note?” Rhys demanded.
I felt where it was in the house and then summoned it to me. “I left this on my bed. I was gonna put it in your bedside but I figured you’d check my room first if you got worried.” I handed him the paper. He unfolded it. The note was short—all it said was: Running an errand. Be back in an hour, max. -Me—but it took him a long time to read it.
His eyes turned up to me. His pupils had narrowed to tiny points. “Why do you smell of the Spring Court?” The words were strained.
I heard something clank in the kitchen. Feyre dropped something at my brother’s words.
Rhys put my note on the side table beside his drink and stood up, wings extending just a bit. He towered over me—I was only an inch shorter than Feyre but Rhys had always been so big. His eyes bored into me. I felt his talons scratching at my mental shield. Not a request for entry. An order.
“You promised never to break into my head,” I said sharply.
“I will if it means keeping these people safe. Our people. What were you doing in the Spring Court? Going for a leisurely walk through the woods?”
I flared my wings out a little too. Both of us animals trying to appear bigger than we were to be more intimidating. “I’m allowed to have a private life, Rhysand. I didn’t jeopardize the Night Court at all.”
Feyre appeared in the sitting room. I wondered if she’d considered getting in between us. I wanted to warn her off. I could deal with Rhys myself. Had been doing so long before she was born. It wasn’t that I didn’t want her help—I just wanted to handle this conversation with my brother alone.
“You revealed to Tamlin you’re alive, didn’t you?” Rhys demanded. His talons scraped harder against my mental shield. I reinforced it.
“Yes,” I said.
My brother swore as his mate gasped quietly. “Why would you do that? Do you know how dangerous—”
“Of course I do. But the fact remains that if it weren’t for him, I’d be dead. The fact remains that I owed him my life. The fact also remains that the Spring Court borders the mortal lands and is absolutely barren of faeries. With good reason. Feyre did the right thing in revealing to the court what kind of male he is, but that border still needs to be monitored. I know Tarquin is fine stationing sentries on the border but those sentries will eventually get tired of it, even if he swaps them out. It would be best for the Spring Court to have, at most, the ability to protect its own borders.”
“What were you doing there?”
“I spent the past week brainstorming plans for rebuilding the Spring Court. I merely delivered them, told Tamlin my debt to him was paid, and left. My life, for getting his back on track. He deserves everything that happened to him, but we need the Spring Court’s borders to be secure. Are you going to keep berating me or can I go upstairs and wash off the smell of that place?”
Rhys looked like he wasn’t going to stop glaring at me for the next decade.
I summoned one of the copies I’d made of my plans from my pocket realm and shoved them into his chest. “Go ahead. Read them. Or don’t. I don’t care. I’m going to go take a bath.”
I stomped over to the stairs and stomped up them. From behind, I heard Feyre say softly, “You’re being a little hard on her.”
Before I heard my brother’s reply, I slammed the door shut to my room.
When I emerged, freshly cleansed of all the floral scents of the Spring Court clinging to my skin, my brother was in the hallway outside my room.
“I read your plans,” he said flatly, almost begrudgingly. “The one about turning the Spring Court into a haven for faeries displaced from their homes in other courts during this past war was particularly impressive.”
I made a mental note to thank Feyre later. I assumed she had convinced him to at least be civil, even though I could tell he was still furious with me for being reckless with the secret that I was still alive. No one outside of Velaris had known that I’d been rescued and recovered from my injuries. I’d spent centuries staying solely in the city, being safe. A foray into the Spring Court was a welcome change.
I finished tying off my braid. “And?” I prompted. I wanted to see what else was on his mind.
Rhys didn’t reply immediately. Just stared at me with a sharp hone to his gaze. “And,” he repeated, “I think you made a good decision. Even if I don’t particularly relish the thought of Tamlin knowing you’re alive.”
“Thanks.”
“Also, I find it hilarious that on every single plan, you’ve written multiple times to have him claim all the ideas as his own. Though you definitely deserve the credit for it.”
“Be that as it may, it’ll look stronger coming from him. What did Feyre think?”
“Feyre hasn’t read them yet. I don’t think she wants to.”
“That’s fine. I know she’s angry at him. She has every right to be. I’m angry at him too, actually, for how he treated her. He deserves the ruin she brought upon him. He deserved being outed as the beast that he is. But, unfortunately, we need his court strong enough to protect its borders.”
“I agree. Maybe next time, though, if you have incredibly savvy political plans for another court, let me deliver them?”
“Tamlin wouldn’t have listened to you. He didn’t even want to listen to me. Not even after I told him you had no idea I was there.” I shrugged. “Next time I have savvy political plans for another court, I’ll just winnow the pages to the High Lord’s assistant’s desk under the guise of a citizen submitting them. This one was just a delivery I needed to make in person—so that he’d know I owe him nothing anymore.”
Rhys gathered me into a hug. “You’re a really annoying little sister, you know that?”
I smiled. “That’s my job.”
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mk-wizard · 3 years
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Top 10 Things Robots In Disguise Did Wrong IMO
Hello, fans.
I really hate knocking a series because I hate trash talking, so I won’t do it, but rather, I will some criticism on Robots in Disguise aka RID. I had a lot of high standards for this show especially considering it was supposed to be a sequel to Prime. There are many things about it that didn’t sit well with me, but there ten things I feel really stood out that really hurt the show the most. Note that Strongarm is not one of those things. Not liking Strongarm is a matter of taste it is not the make or break aspect of an entire series. Despite what many people think, one character you don’t like doesn’t ruin an entire series.
1- It didn’t feel like a genuine sequel to Prime. - I understand that in RID, some time has passed after the end of Prime so things around going to be different. However, the only thing from Prime that was brought over to RID was Bumblebee himself and I felt he did not have a lot in common with his Prime counterpart. RID felt like a completely new show or rather like the sequel of another series. The old cast is never brought up or shown, old alliances seemed to have been forgotten and whatever happened to the Predacons? When making a sequel TV series, it should follow a certain level continuity with the series it is following kind of like how Beast Machines followed Beast Wars so smoothly.
2- Fixit’s performance as the first handicapped Autobot was rather insensitive towards the viewers. - I don’t mind Fixit being handicapped or being the comic relief, but I do find it kind of insensitive especially in today’s day and age for Fixit to be comic relief because he’s handicapped. He was portrayed as weak, an invalid and at times, incompetent which he clearly isn’t. In fact, he has an arsenal and can hold his own, but even after this was found out, he was put back into his “weakling” role. This is not a good look for Transformers. A lot of people watching the show wound up handicapped because of an accident like Fixit did or have handicaps similar to his, and I don’t think it’s very nice to give off the message that people like them are “broken” and this makes them clowns we should laugh at. This is backwards writing at its worst and shame on Hasbro for that.
3- Forgettable human characters. - In Prime, Jack, Miko, Raf, agent Fowler and even Jack’s mom had very strong personalities that made an impact in the show. They were actually helpful to the Autobots and could even be forces to be reckoned with. You could never say the humans of Prime were weak or just played humans in distress. They would rescue the Autobots just as often if not more so than the Autobots rescued them. In RID, Denny and Russel were not as impressive. If anything, Russel felt like a copy of Jack at times, but in a much weaker way. He lacked Jack’s maturity and character development. At times, I also wondered why Bumblebee never just tried to make contact with Agent Fowler at least upon returning to Earth (more on this later).
4- The quality felt like a step down from Prime. - I understand RID was supposed to appeal to a younger audience, but when you’re following an act like Prime, you should put your best foot forward even when presenting to kids. After all, Rescue Bots was also made for kids, but it took place in the same universe as Prime and never compromised its quality. RID felt very silly in its humour, the majority of the episodes felt like the old fashioned and outdated “monster of the day” formula, the plot felt made up as it went along and the characters were rather one dimensional.
5- It should have brought back a large majority of the Prime cast as regular characters. - I understand that even a sequel series is going to have a few new characters. Beast Machines did, but what it didn’t do was scrap 99.9% of the old cast for a new one. It didn’t fix what wasn’t broken and kept the characters who worked best for the series. Like I mentioned before, why didn’t Bumblebee ever try to contact the old human gang especially agent Fowler? Didn’t they keep in touch? And didn’t Ratchet stay on Earth at the end of Prime because he wanted keep Earth safe from any remaining Decepticons? And what happened to the Decepticons who were already on Earth? RID is supposed to be a sequel to Prime not a parallel. It should have brought back most of the old gang especially for its setting.
6- It had tons of plot holes. - As well as forgetting its own cast, RID forgot a lot of pivotal plot elements left behind by Prime that it should have worked with. The most obvious being the Predacons considering most of the enemies in RID had animal motifs. Also, if Bumblebee was so important on Cybertron, his absence would have been felt on Cybertron. People would have gone looking for him. And as mentioned before, there were already a lot of Decepticons still on Earth. It wasn’t necessary to bring in these new animal themed Decepticons.
7- Optimus stole Bumblebee’s spotlight. - RID was supposed to be the series where Bumblebee was supposed to shine, be the hero and leader, and possibly become a Prime. He kind of did those things, but the way Optimus was brought back overshadowed him a lot and that’s no good. Rescue Bots showed a good way to bring in Optimus as a guest or secondary character without overshadowing the heroes of the story. In Rescue Bots, Optimus is assisting, but stepping out of the way for the most part. In RID, as soon as Optimus came back, he completely got in Bumblebee’s way and even made him look bad. This just seems like muddled storytelling to me. Maybe it would have been better if Optimus hadn’t been brought back at all.
8- The enemies were rather lackluster. - Prime gave us tons of enemies that shocked us, had grit and were not afraid to be truly bad like Megatron the conqueror, Starscream the snake and of course, Unicron himself who truly did live up to his chaos bringing persona. And even Predaking was the stuff of nightmares yet at the same time, has this majestic aura hence his name. The enemies of RID felt like a bunch of thugs, they were mostly monsters of the day and even Megatronus felt like a step down in villain quality. He didn’t make me feel anything really and while I know the series wanted to be child friendly, I think it tried too hard. Megatronus just felt like a lesser version of Unicron and many of the villains felt like lesser versions of their Prime counterparts. And this is bad. Even when they explained their motives, I didn’t feel like they delivered that impression that they were all that bad. Just more like they were trying to play the role of being bad like actors in a show. Pardon the harsh criticism, but that’s how I felt.
9- The ideas it presented had been done before. - I hate saying this, but everything I saw in RID had been done before in other Transformers series. None of the ideas felt that fresh at all especially not the setting of Autobots being marooned on Earth and then needing to fight the Decepticons marooned there with them. Like, come on! Even the idea of reviving Optimus had been done before. I think the plot of RID would have benefited more and would have had more of an opportunity to be original if it had literally picked up where Prime had left off with rebuilding Cybertron or tying up loose ends left by Prime.
10- Bumblebee’s performance felt like a step down after Prime. - In Prime, Bumblebee went from being a Scout to a full blown Megatron slayer. He was a badass who didn’t take trash from anyone and he knew what to do without needing to say it. And as soon as he did have a voice, he showed a lot of promise as a leader in every way possible. However, in RID, he seems to have regressed in both leadership skills and in maturity. He’s goofy in all the wrong ways, he is overly concerned with catchphrases and he can’t keep his team together. As mentioned before, RID Bumblebee did not give me the impression that he was the same Bumblebee from Prime. He felt like a different guy.
To anyone who is a fan RID, I don’t mean to offend you. I just had to get this off of my chest. Usually, I don’t care for a sequel following its legacy, but RID felt like a huge drop in standards to the point where it didn’t even look like a sequel anymore.
To anyone who agrees with me, what are your thoughts and what reasons can you think of that caused RID to not live up to Prime’s legacy?
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fictionalrambles · 4 years
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Shadowhunters Fandom Story - Part One
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Submitted by @darknutmeg​
Five Favourite Stories
Bright Lights, Small Town by @lecrit  
WHY I LOVE THIS FIC: There are too many reasons to list here without this turning into a 1K essay, so I will break it down into three things. 1) This is my absolute favourite characterization of Magnus in any fic I have ever read. His constant struggles to find a place where he truly belongs with someone he loves and a family to call his own. Found family, especially when it involves Magnus, owns my heart. 2) Its an honest and real look at grief, specifically the scene where burns his Mother’s paintings. Who hasn’t felt this way when dealing the loss of the loved one; wanting physical memories of them gone from your sight, thrown away or in this case destroyed. Luckily Magnus was saved by a pair of strong arms. A scene which really set the tone for their relationship. 3) The airport scene, straight from a rom-com and absolutely breathtaking.
FAVORITE QUOTE(S): “I thought it was pretty obvious, but maybe it isn't to you,” Alec murmured, reaching out to wipe away a stray tear with his free hand. “You're so full of doubt, so used to holding these walls around your heart that I realized maybe you doubted that too. So, well… I'm telling you not to. You can doubt many things but don't doubt this: I love you.”
*
All The Right Words by @ninwrites
WHY I LOVE THIS FIC: There are few fics in the fandom featuring deaf characters, it can be difficult to portray correctly and this story does an absolutely exquisite job. As someone who is fluent in sign language and has a deaf family member, I truly, truly appreciate this type of representation in any form of media, especially when it is handled so beautifully. Alec is adorable and sweet and so so in love, it takes my breath away. Magnus learning to communicate for Alec’s sake and choosing to learn a most important expression is a moment which will stay with me forever. 
FAVORITE QUOTE: “The charm is said to bring luck and protection.” Isabelle finishes, quietly. “Alec hoped you’d accept it - he told me that he doubts you need protection, that he knows you can look after yourself perfectly well, but he … he hopes that this can help you.” From the corner of his eye, Magnus sees Isabelle’s jaw pulse slightly. “Because he can’t.”
*
All The Things I’d Say But Couldn’t by kaythenorthface
WHY I LOVE THIS FIC: There are plenty of alternate, early season one Malec getting together stories out there, each one with a unique take. This one however has a special touch. A parallel to an early moment in their pre-relationship: The memory demon. Having Alec reveal his long hidden feelings to Magnus through his memories, when the prior time it had forced him to face his issues. The force of Magnus’ “How long?” hits hard. I felt that. Alec kept his feelings from Magnus for years and hurt both of them in the process. Which makes the emotional confession at the end that much more beautiful, it’s ‘I’m sorry it took me so long.’
 FAVOURITE QUOTE(S): “Alexander,” Magnus says, looking very much like he wants to roll his eyes at Alec. “I told you a long time ago that I’d gone 50 years without wanting anyone before I met you. You were the first person I ever fell in love with without trying to. That isn’t something that just goes away. There’s always been a part of me waiting, hoping for you to change your mind.”
*
My True Love Gave to Me by @imawriteriwrite
WHY I LOVE THIS FIC: This fic is my comfort fic; it’s like a warm hug. You get to watch them have more than one first kiss, share a few adorable dates and go along with Magnus as he slowly figures out to break the ‘curse’ while realizing his own feelings. It’s like Groundhog Day at Christmas but filled with love. Also, Magnus showing up to confess to Alec while dressed in pajamas is so on point.
 FAVORITE QUOTE(S): “Alexander,” Magnus says, looking very much like he wants to roll his eyes at Alec. “I told you a long time ago that I’d gone 50 years without wanting anyone before I met you. You were the first person I ever fell in love with without trying to. That isn’t something that just goes away. There’s always been a part of me waiting, hoping for you to change your mind.”
*
Reconstruction by bumblebeesknees
WHY I LOVE THIS FIC: Healthy communication between Magnus and Alec is something we often preach about and while the show did a decent job with it, they could have done so much more. Like with their reunion after the first ‘break up.’. This fic fills in all those gaps absolutely beautifully. Alec’s vulnerability about potentially screwing up and forcing Magnus to leave him, the broken trust they still need to rebuild and the love, there’s so much love here. Present scenes are built around past ones seamlessly so you see how they slowly find their way back to each other. And the bracelet. Don’t even get me started on that. It’s the omamori charm of Shadowhunters fic.
 FAVORITE QUOTE(S): “I love you,” says Magnus and even though Alec’s not consciously thinking about it, some part of him must realize that the necessary thing to do is pull away. But Magnus is still holding onto Alec’s hands, the beads of the bracelet is digging into Alec’s skin and Alec – Alec doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand why Magnus refuses to let go, refuses to break away from Alec’s gaze when Alec can’t because he’s frozen in place.
“I love you,” says Magnus a third time, as though maybe this time around it’ll make sense to Alec. It doesn’t. “I shouldn’t have waited this long to say it. I just – I didn’t know how.”
Author Story
Shadowhunters made me dig out my fanfic writer’s hat for the first time in over a decade and it’s telling that the very first thing I wrote was a wedding fic because Malec was my inspiration. Malec made me come of out of hiding and I’m forever grateful for it. Playing with those two boys in various situations has been an absolute delight, Magnus’ character has so much depth and Alec is so stalwart and loyal. They are so many ways to make them fall in love over and over again.
The talent of the writers in this fandom is exquisite, inspiring and something to be admired. I am grateful to be here amongst you and even though I suck at updating and I’m extremely unorganized, I’m glad to have a place to share my little words and I’m thankful for the audience I have gained.
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woppy42 · 5 years
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Cats are just like that
Fanfic: She-Ra (2018) Rating: G Characters: Adora, Catra, and… a cat Category: Fluff, friendship, light angst
Summary: After Catra joins the rebellion, she and Adora slowly try to rebuild their friendship. There’s a cat. It all relates, somehow.
Two weeks. It had been two weeks since Adora brought back a dirty, hissing bundle of fur and teeth and claws from a mission on the outskirts of Bright Moon. She'd washed it, brushed it, cooed over it and generally tried to befriend it despite receiving nothing but bites and scratches in return. Glimmer gave the thing a wide berth, and even Bow had the sense to look a little tentative around it.
Naturally, the blasted creature wouldn't leave Catra alone.
No matter how much she avoided it, refused to look in its direction, or cursed it with all the colorful invectives she could conjure, it still kept finding its way into her quarters, laying on her clothes, or winding its way obnoxiously around her legs when she was trying to walk.
Adora, on the other hand, had spent a full week desperately trying to coax the creature into friendship (or at least tolerance of her presence) before finally backing off when the little monster lashed out with its claws a little too close to her eye. She now regarded the creature sadly, but from a distance.
Catra tried not to think too hard about the allegory there.
(read on AO3)
Adora had walked around the castle for three days with a ridiculous bandage on her face before She-Ra's healing powers kicked in. The thin, pink marks on her cheek lingered just long enough for Catra to wonder if She-Ra didn't heal scars before they, too, faded away, leaving Catra with an unexpected and guilty sense of relief.
A low rumble distracted Catra from her thoughts. The creature had somehow gotten in her room again, and was now curled in a self-satisfied ball atop the rumpled pile of shirts she'd left on the floor. The corner of her lip lifted in a snarl, and she grabbed the thing by the nape of the neck and lifted it in front of her.
“Stay. Off. Of my things,” she hissed.
It blinked affectionately at her, paws dangling in the air.
She dropped it, and it landed lightly on its feet before scampering off to resume its previous position on the shirt pile. The purring resumed almost instantaneously.
“Ugh.”
*
Catra bounced the tip of the quill pen in a staccato rhythm on the blank paper before her, willing the words to come. They evaded her. (They had plenty of practice; they'd been doing just that for the past twenty minutes.) The aggravated tapping grew to a crescendo until the tip of the pen snapped off, leaving a sizable blotch of ink on the otherwise empty paper.
With a frustrated cry, she snatched up the ruined paper, crumpled it into a ball, and flung it across the room.
Going on scouting missions? Productive, engaging. Writing scouting reports? Purgatory. Torture.
Awakened from its slumber, the creature bounded across the room after the wad of paper and snatched it in its jaws, shaking its head rapidly as if to break the paper's nonexistent neck. A piece tore free in its mouth and the rest of the ball flew a short distance away. The beast pounced on it, tearing it to shreds with its tiny, needle-like claws.
Catra smiled viciously. “Good cat.”
Reports were stupid enough, but she'd been willing to send a perfunctory sentence or two in the Queen's direction in the name of cooperation. She hadn't even thought the queen would read them. Apparently, she had. Catra unfolded a copy of her latest submission:
“Was boring. nothing much happened. Killed a Horde patrol somewhere in the woods. found a rock that looks like glimmer's head.”
Catra didn't understand the issue. It was clear, concise, and held all the necessary facts. Certainly not “alarming in its utter lack of detail,” or “juvenile in tone and content.” Catra sulked. It wasn't like she hadn't offered the patrol a chance to surrender first.
Maybe the queen hadn't liked the part about the rock.
A knock came from behind her, and Catra's ear twitched back toward the sound before she swiveled to identify the intruder. Adora stood on the threshold, holding a stack of papers.
Catra hated how tentative she looked. Hated how even now, a month after joining the rebellion, she still felt a swell of defensiveness instead of affection upon seeing her oldest and closest friend.
Catra hated a lot of things. She knew now Adora had never really been one of them.
She glanced down to the papers Adora had clutched to her chest. “If those are for me, I swear I'm going to jump out the window.”
Adora laughed, tension dropping as she stepped into the room. “Don't worry, these are mine. Light reading from the last strategy meeting.” She dropped them with a solid thunk on the edge of Catra's desk, then glanced around at the broken pen and shreds of paper littering the floor, her gaze lingering wistfully on the tiny cat as it lounged with a distinct air of self-satisfaction in the the midst of its destruction.
“What are you up to? I thought I heard a shout.”
Catra folded her arms and slid down in her chair with a scowl. “Queen Angella doesn't like my scouting reports.”
“Oh.”
Adora's lip quivered as though suppressing a smile, and Catra's eyes narrowed.
“You read them, didn't you.”
“Just the last one,” Adora said, raising her hands in defense. “It was a little... brief.” The smile was fighting its way free onto her face.
Catra might have been annoyed before, but now she felt strangely embarrassed. She slid further down in her chair.
“I'm not good at this kind of thing,” she grumbled, hating how pathetic she sounded.
“Hey, don't say that,” Adora said, smile forgotten as she leaned earnestly forward. Her hand started toward Catra's shoulder, then fell back down to her side.
Catra hated that Adora had pulled back, and hated the relief she felt when she did.
“I, uh,” Adora started. “I was really bad at writing reports when I first got here, too.”
Catra raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You? ”
“Well, it wasn't exactly the same problem,” Adora admitted, her face reddening. “My reports were a little too long and too detailed.”
Catra snorted. That, she could see. She imagined Adora earnestly bent over her report, meticulously cataloging whatever her surveillance team had eaten for lunch and precisely how many minutes it took them to consume.
“One of the guards gave me a template to work from,” Adora continued. “It helped a lot. I could give it to you, along with some of my better reports. If you want, of course,” she tacked on hurriedly.
Well, it certainly couldn't hurt.
“Yeah. Thanks.”
Adora beamed.
The cat suddenly jumped up onto the desk, nearly knocking over the ink pot in the process. Catra scrambled to steady it and gave a low growl in the creature's direction. It was soundly ignored. Instead, the thing sniffed curiously at the stack of papers Adora had dropped on the desk, then began rubbing its face against the back of Adora's hand where it rested on the papers. She stood stock still, a look of disbelieving glee frozen on her face.
“Catra!” Adora whispered, as though any sound might frighten the creature off. “She's letting me touch her!”
“Looks more like she's touching you,” Catra observed languidly. She couldn't imagine why someone would be happy to have the little nuisance rubbing up against them. She'd do anything to make it stop.
“Do you think I...” ever so slowly, Adora moved her hand out from the stack of papers. The cat continued to industriously rub its face against her knuckles. Slowly, tentatively, she raised her fingers and traced them across the soft fur of the creature's head to scratch behind its ears. It purred.
Adora looked like she was going to explode from happiness.
Catra found herself fighting back a smile and looked away. Adora's enthusiasm was stupidly infectious.
“I'm running a patrol in a few days,” Adora said conversationally a moment later, still running her fingers with gentle adoration across the creature's head. “Could use your help, if you're interested.” Her tone was so casual it almost hurt.
“Why?” Catra internally winced. “I mean, what do you need me for? You've been running those solo just fine.” She winced harder. That was not an improvement.
Adora shrugged. “Two pairs of eyes are better than one. And two pairs of hands, in case things go south.”
Catra bit back a remark about how she was sure She-Ra could handle things just fine on her own.
“Okay.”
The pressing weight of Adora's forced casualness receded, and she visibly straightened.
“You know, after we get back from that, there's a festival in the next town over. Glimmer and Bow have been talking about it for days, and it would be great if you— ow!” Adora snatched her hand back with a cry after the cat suddenly sank its teeth into her palm.
Catra pushed aside the tinge of relief she felt at the interruption and reached for Adora's hand, pulling it forward. “Let me see.”
“I'm fine,” Adora insisted, looking somewhere between surprised and embarrassed. “It's not even bleeding.”
Catra ignored her and inspected the mark. The bite was hard enough to leave a purple indentation, but Adora was right—it hadn't broken the skin. Satisfied, she released her hand. Adora rubbed the mark.
The creature was now laying upside down on the desk, the picture of fluffy innocence. “Guess that was a little much, huh?” Adora said toward the cat.
It's all right, I'm sorry, I want things to be normal again just as much as you do, please just give me a little more time--
“Guess so.”
“Well,” Adora said, forcing cheerfulness into her tone as she picked up her stack of papers, “I have a lot of reading to do. See you around?”
“Yeah,” Catra mumbled in response. Say something, don't let her just--
“Hey,” Catra said, still looking at the desk. Adora stopped and turned back toward Catra expectantly.
“When do you eat breakfast?”
Confusion flickered across Adora's expression. “After morning training,” she said. “In the kitchens.”
Catra nodded. “See you there.”
A small, warm smile spread across Adora's face. “See you there,” she repeated.
Her step was lighter as she left the room.
The cat started to rub its head against her hand where it rested on desk, and Catra let it. She even scratched under its chin a little.
*
Winter was coming, heralded by colorful leaves and crisp days. Night came earlier, with a chill that drove people to crackling fireplaces, animals to their barns—and the creature into Catra's bed. Apparently, the pile of shirts that it had claimed for its own was no longer warm enough to satisfy it.
The first time she woke to find it curled against her side, purring contentedly, Catra had stared in shock for several seconds before lifting it by the scruff of the neck and dropping it onto the floor. It yawned, stretched, and wandered off in search of breakfast.
Catra felt... oddly well-rested. Her side was still warm where the little beast had been curled against it.
She was sure the two events were unrelated.
The next morning, she was a little slower to evict her uninvited tenant. The thing had stretched out in its sleep beside her, front paws resting gently against her upper arm as it dozed in a patch of morning light. It gave an inquisitive mrrpt as she lifted it off the bed and... placed, not dropped, it on the floor.
Over the following days, Catra slowly became used to waking up with the thing laying on her chest, sprawled across her legs, or curled up in a ball against her side. Not fond, but... accustomed. Once, when she jerked awake from a nightmare while it was sleeping near her foot, she accidentally kicked it clean off the bed. It landed with a soft thump and a disgruntled mewl, deciding for the first time in quite a while to spend the night on a pile of clothing instead of curled up next to her.
She actually felt kind of bad about it.
The next morning, it silently hopped up onto the table where she and Adora were sharing breakfast and padded over, rubbing its head against Catra's cheek for a moment before stealing one of the small fish off her plate.
She let it.
*
The worst part about being in Bright Moon wasn't the endless pastel walls, or the glittery princesses, or the naïve and twitchy inhabitants of the city. It was how Catra couldn't sleep.
She'd been doing just fine sleeping in the wilds, but as soon as she got under the same (enormous, pastel purple) roof as Adora, her body suddenly remembered what it was like to sleep in the Fright Zone—and repeatedly, firmly informed her that This Was Not It. There was no clanking of metal or hissing of steam. There was no gentle snoring of several other cadets.
There was no warm, steadying presence sharing her bunk.
It was fine. Scouting missions kept her busy, and the more missions she took, the more exhausted she could get until she was finally able to crawl into bed and fall asleep almost before her head hit the pillow.
That was the best way, honestly. The more tired she was, the less she dreamed.
As much as she hated to admit it, the furry creature had made it easier for her to fall asleep on days when she hadn't exhausted herself to the point of almost passing out. Its warm little presence wasn't quite right —too quiet, too small—but it was... something.
Catra passed the castle library, sparing a glance through the half open door as she walked by. She froze, then backtracked.
There, sitting in a chair illuminated by a golden patch of late afternoon light, was Adora: fast asleep, the book she had been reading dropped open on her chest, the cat sprawled across her lap and purring loudly.
It was... well, it was kind of cute.
Catra hadn’t realized she’d walked closer until the cat lazily cracked an eye open at her approach. It adjusted its position slightly and resumed purring.
Adora somehow looked even more exhausted asleep than she did awake. The dark circles under her eyes had only deepened in the time since Catra had come to join the rebellion, and some small part of Catra wondered if Adora was having the same difficulties sleeping as her--but no; no, of course not. She stayed up late studying, got up early to train, and went on missions nearly every day; of course she was tired. Anyone would be.
The book was starting to slip. Catra reached out and gently removed it, marking Adora’s place with a scrap of paper and setting it neatly on the table beside her.
The little beast watched her movements, but made no motion to get up.
“Good cat,” she found herself whispering.
Catra left silently, closing the door softly behind her.
*
It was midnight. No, that’s when she’d started this ill-fated expedition. It was far, far past midnight now. Catra wasn’t sure what annoyed her more: that the miserable cat had been missing from all its familiar haunts when she returned, tired and bedraggled, from a particularly miserable solo scouting mission; or the fact that she actually cared.
After all, they weren’t that far from the Whispering Woods. There were all kinds of predators in there that ate little cats for breakfast. And it wasn’t like she could trust the Bright Moon guards to guarantee none of those creatures snuck into the castle; she knew firsthand they weren’t an overly observant lot.
“Come here, you stupid little monster,” she hissed into the empty halls, loud enough for her and the cat to hear, but quiet enough not to wake the human occupants of the castle. “You're supposed to be shedding all over my blankets and stabbing your little needle claws into my arm while I'm trying to sleep. Quit hiding.”
Catra held still for a moment, ears twitching slightly as she listened for any hint of movement.
The castle was absurdly, impossibly silent.
She growled. “I swear if I don't find you in the next five minutes, when I do find you, I'm gonna turn you into a furry hat.”
It was her second pass through the castle, and she lingered for a moment at the door to Adora’s room. The door was shut, but… the cat was very small, and it finally seemed to have take a liking to Adora--to the latter’s great delight. It might be worth checking. Catra swayed tiredly, frustration rising as she realized that, despite her exhaustion, she wouldn’t be able to sleep until she found the miserable beast.
Catra put her hand to the knob and was only slightly surprised to find it unlocked.
She was also only slightly surprised to see the infernal creature curled in a satisfied, comfortable ball next to Adora, both of them fast asleep. Catra reached for the scruff of the cat’s neck, then paused. It didn’t seem right to disturb two creatures when they were sleeping so peacefully. Especially when Adora looked so tired all the time, and stressed, and the only time she’d seen her actually look this relaxed in her sleep was when she was with that stupid cat--
Catra swayed again in her exhaustion.
She was tired.
Really tired.
Oh, forget it.
Her limbs moved of their own accord. This bed was shorter than the bunks in the Fright Zone, but wider. She carefully crawled next to Adora, on top of the blankets, and curled up on her side facing away from her. Her back felt warm.
She'd leave in the morning, she promised herself, before Adora woke.
It was easy to relax as the familiar rhythm of Adora's soft, steady breathing lulled her to sleep.
*
Adora woke slowly, coaxed gently to consciousness by the warm light on her face and the soothing, even sound of purring. She smiled as she remembered how the small cat had leapt up on her bed in the middle of the night, stepping across her stomach before curling contentedly against her side. She'd been thrilled. Honored, even.
She took a deep breath and slowly stretched in place, eyes closed, flexing muscles still sore from the previous day's exertion. Her left arm felt a little sluggish, she thought absently. Oddly warm, too.
She turned her head to the right and opened her eyes a crack to smile happily at the little creature, which still dozed in a warm little ball against her side. Its purring seemed extra loud today.
“Morning, kitty.”
"Mmph," came a disgruntled sound from her other side. Adora jumped, her shoulder impacting something soft--resulting in a quiet yelp.
"What are you trying to do, break my nose?”
Adora’s mind came to a stuttering stop.
“Catra?”
Catra. Catra was there, next to her, wrapped around Adora’s arm the same way she’d seen small children clutching stuffed animals to their chest. Her nose was almost pressed to Adora’s shoulder.
“Yeah, duh. Who else would it be.” Catra’s eyes closed as she apparently tried to burrow deeper into the mattress. “Go back to sleep. ‘s too early.” Her words trailed off as she began to follow her own advice.
Her initial astonishment wearing off, Adora found herself unable to do anything other than stare and smile. She'd hoped Catra would eventually feel comfortable enough to regain some of their former closeness, but... She hadn't expected this so soon. Or this close, she thought, regarding her trapped arm with no desire to reclaim it. With Catra’s mask off and her face relaxed in sleep, smoothing away the worries of recent months, Adora could almost imagine they were children again.
A yellow eye cracked open. “Quit it.”
“Huh? I wasn’t doing anything.”
“You've got that look,” Catra mumbled discontentedly. “The annoying one.” Her complaint might have carried more weight if her face wasn't still practically buried in Adora's shoulder.
A teasing remark rose to her lips. “I was just wondering what the rebellion would think if they knew that the fearsome Catra, former second-in-command to Hordak himself, likes to cuddle in her sleep.”
Both eyes opened momentarily to deliver a malevolent glare.
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”
Blue and yellow eyes rolled, then closed again.
The cat at Adora’s other side batted playfully at her hand, and she rubbed its head. Sure, maybe things weren’t perfect between them. Finding a new normal would take time. But this... this was progress. She gave another fond glance to the figure at her side before giving a quiet, contented sigh and letting her eyes slip shut.
“I missed you too,” she whispered.
There was no answer. The pressure on her arm increased for a moment, then relaxed.
“Get over yourself,” came the eventual, mumbled response. The words may have been abrasive, but the tone in which they were delivered was anything but.
Adora smiled and settled back into her pillow with another small sigh, giving in to the warmth and her lingering tiredness.
Healing might take time, but this morning, they had all the time in the world.
Thanks for reading! If you liked it, send me a kudos or comment on AO3? :D
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hollowedrpg · 5 years
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CONGRATULATIONS, CAISEY! — You’ve been accepted for the role of Lily Potter. I’m so glad you decided to rework your application. It’s clear you understand not only who Lily is, but how she fits into this verse. Lily is trying her best to appear as though she’s doing fine, as though she’s ready to take up arms and fight again, but in truth, she’s struggling more than she ever has. I also really liked your addition that she’s suffering from postpartum depression. I think that fits into how I envisioned her as a mother, and I can’t wait to see where you take her from here. 
Thank you so much for applying. Please create your account and send in the link, track the right tags, and follow everyone on the follow list. Welcome to Hollowed Souls!
ooc.
name: Caisey
age: 27 on the 25th
preferred pronouns: she/her
timezone: EST
activity: 7ish! I work weekday mornings/afternoons, but my weekends and evenings are free.
are you applying for more than one character?: just one!
how do you feel about your character dying?: Lily is living on borrowed time, honestly. She was never intended to live through this; she doesn’t know this, obviously, but it was her death that ensured Voldemort’s first defeat through protecting Harry from him. I would find it narratively justified for her to die protecting Harry.
anything else?: I wrote the app out of order (basically from the bottom up), so I feel like I should apologize if that messes with the coherency at all.
ic details.
full name: Lily June Potter, née Evans
Lily: from the flower. In the Victorian language of flowers, lilies are used to symbolize love and affection; in Christian religion, lilies are often used to represent purity and virtue.
June: from the Roman goddess Juno, associated with marriage, military, and the community.
date of birth: January 30th. Aquarius sun, Pisces moon, Taurus rising.
Sun in Aquarius: “You carry a lot on your shoulders and have need to fight for the underdog. It’s in your tenth house, meaning you feel the need to distinguish yourself from others through career, goals, success, and responsibility.”
Moon in Pisces: “You feel vulnerable much of the time, and desperately wish for a partner who deeply understands you. It’s in your tenth house, meaning you find security and safety through career success and responsibility.”
Taurus Rising: “You give people the impression that you are reliable, settled, sensible, and deliberate, though sometimes stubborn.”
former hogwarts house: Gryffindor. Severus told her that she would be perfect for Slytherin; since he was her sole fount of information about the magical world before her letter arrived, Lily believed him. When she made the suggestion, however, the Hat laughed in her face–so to speak–and Lily’s immediate anger caused it to place her in Gryffindor. Though the Hat could have made a case for Ravenclaw easily enough, Lily’s instincts lie in loyalty and daring. The pluck that led her to argue vehemently with a sentient hat within seconds of making its acquaintance has served her well throughout her life.
sexuality: pansexual panromantic
gender/pronouns: cis female, she/her
face claim change: none!
more.
how do you interpret this character’s personality? how will you play them? include two weaknesses & two strengths.
Strengths: Magnetic, kind, hardworking, selfless
Weaknesses: Selfish, obstinate, anxious, proud
Lily’s never been a failure at anything before. She has struggled, certainly; nothing has ever been easy, necessarily, or accomplished without effort. She has always been adept at identifying what was necessary to achieve her goals or tackle a problem. She’s the golden girl: compassionate, smart, hardworking. Even bigotry from being Muggleborn hardly phased her, except to strengthen her desire to fight back against the so-called “blood purists.” Lily is vivacious, empathetic, and convinced of her ideals–she married the love of her life, joined forces against the evil wizard trying to murder people like her, excitedly looked forward to her son’s birth.
There’s a reason she was given a place in Order recruitment: she’s gregarious and likeable, especially with the endearing pregnant belly and a baby ready to kick whenever a new palm pressed against her stomach. Being genuine and earnest has always come naturally to her, and it’s drawn people to her for her entire life, made some things easier than they might have been otherwise. It’s true that this has led her to take elements of her life for granted: finding a job post-graduation was easier due to Slughorn’s influence, and James’ family funds smoothed over her financial concerns when she discovered she was pregnant. She has experienced a considerable amount of bullying and bigotry, but because unconditional love and support has always existed in her life, Lily has developed a selfish streak. She expects the love to always exist–she expects to be able to find a solution to the problems she encounters–she expects to be capable of overcoming her struggles–and when these things fail to be true, she stumbles and grows resentful. Lily strives to better herself through acknowledging these tendencies whenever she finds them in herself and surrounding herself with people who aren’t afraid to call her out, people who challenge her and make her better (James and Marlene chief amongst them–without them, she indulges the introspection, finding herself unable to break the cycle of seeing the world through a specific filter designed by her life experiences).
She needs a project to focus on to keep her anxieties at bay; inactivity makes her fret over things she can’t control, and she’s never enjoyed an aimless lifestyle. Typically, these projects are exercises in discovering purpose, usually with a humanitarian angle or some sort of personal growth intention. When Lily finds something to focus on, she truly can make an impact; she is idealistic almost to a fault, having come from a Muggle world and introduced to a world of magic possibilities at an impressionable age. She believes strongly in making the world a better place and in her own ability to do so.
The way she is now is more accurately reflected below; the war has changed everything for Lily and she is, at present, a combination of the optimistic, driven woman who happens to be a wife and mother described here and the grieving, guilt-ridden widow and struggling mother described below.
how has the war affected this character, emotionally and otherwise?
The Lily described above exists primarily in the shadows now. She’s not gone, not entirely, but she’s treading water in the shallows, while in the depths lurks a haunted woman with a sad smile and perpetually red-rimmed eyes. Every day, she wakes up in her worst nightmare and must push through the hours as if she isn’t rotting slowly from the inside.
She sees her life in flashes, like scenes of a book she’s read countless times. Moments blurred between chapters–how did she get from the tent to the house? Where did Harry get that toy? Is that voice she hears calling her name a faint memory of Marlene or is it actually Pandora trying to get her attention? Her grief casts a pall on everything, dampening any other emotions in her life.
Without James or Marlene, she has nothing and nobody left to rely on, her only living friends sunken in their own despair. Lily knows everyone is sensitive and this makes her wary of reaching out and burdening anyone else with her problems. They all praise her for “holding up so well” and pat her gently on the arm, like she might fly into pieces if they touch her too hard; it feels like everyone is holding her at arm’s length. Nobody wants to take responsibility for handling her emotional state, and she can’t be responsible for handling anyone else’s. She worries constantly, her emotional state strained without anything to focus her energies on: are they only allowing her to stay with them out of guilt? Do they care more about Harry, the prophesied one, than her? She was only part of the Order because of James–maybe that’s all she is to them. James’ widow.
She wonders if she has outlived her usefulness. She wants to help, but everything has changed in her life. Is she expected to just be the widow and single mother now? How much agency can she still have, now that everyone sees her differently? Will they listen to her opinions or give her a choice if she wants to leave? Will they take Harry from her if they feel she can’t protect him better than they can?
She feels she must keep up appearances of being the resilient, unflappable Lily Evans Potter she has always been, even without any of the supports that made that Lily possible. She wants the Order to be proud of her–she wants to keep being their golden girl–and she’s clinging desperately to all she has left. Her pride won’t let her ask anyone for help as long as she can see how much they are struggling, and her fear that she might lose what little she has left won’t let her admit that she is falling apart.
where does this character currently stand? with those who wish to hide in godric’s hollow until the war ends, with those who wish to rebuild the order and continue fighting the war, or on neither side? Why?
Lily wants to fight. She always imagined herself going down swinging, James at her back, taking down their killers with them. They were young and the war seemed more like a game back then.
If she didn’t have Harry, it would be an easy answer: get back in the fray, find the rest of the Order, track down any survivors who might join their cause now that the Death Eaters have made their stance on murder clear. Lily has never been one to sit and wait. Even while heavily pregnant she insisted on being involved, even if it was just in recruitment. She’s of the opinion that now is the best time to band together, recruit in a frenzy, and strike back while Voldemort is least expecting it–they might be weak now but so is he, and the Death Eaters might be cowed by a show of force from the organization they thought was beaten. To stop now would be to admit defeat.
That said, she’s also scared. Staying in the Hollow isn’t a long-term option, obviously, but going back into the fight means risking the little they have left. A second blow to their ranks could be the last; if they can’t find more survivors, if their forces don’t grow, then that’s the end of the war. The Death Eaters rule through fear and if they’re not stopped, they could continue their massacre in another town, maybe a Muggle one this time.
And now she has Harry to think of, and this godforsaken prophecy that cost James his life, nearly took Harry the way they got the Longbottom boy. Recruitment, at least, seems like the safest option to move them in the right direction: toward rebuilding and fighting anew.
How is Lily coping with being a new mother in the midst of a war?
She never really planned to be a mother. It seemed inevitable, of course, once she committed to marrying James; a natural trajectory of being in that kind of a relationship. But she didn’t really plan for it–she didn’t want kids the same way James did. Oh, of course she wanted children with him, but when she pictured it, it was always in peacetime–and she was always much older. And then she was pregnant, suddenly, and James was transported with happiness, so she had to keep it, and then she and the baby became a unit: a source of hope and new life amidst the threat of war. Her pregnant belly was a buoy keeping their heads above water, and everyone wanted to touch her, like she was some witch Madonna bringing a messiah into their world. If she thought too hard about it, it was disconcerting, but she didn’t think too much about it–she had enough to think about just preparing for the baby to arrive.
James was a better parent than her, or at least a more natural one. Lily admired how easy fatherhood was for him; while she struggled with postpartum depression and the necessary change in her priorities, he willingly shouldered as much parental responsibility as he physically could. She loved Harry, loved being his mother, but she had to struggle to find that love. James, Marlene, and eventually Molly Weasley worked to convince her that she was not a failure as a mother, and eventually she believed them.
And then they were all gone, and all the things she learned about parenting seemed to disappear from her mind the moment James left her side. She had no idea how to be a mother–especially not a single one. Muscle memory seems to take over much of the time, and maternal instinct fills in the gaps, but Lily struggles most with keeping her emotions in check enough to prioritize Harry. Sometimes he reminds her so much of James that she can hardly stand to look at him, and sometimes she is so overwhelmed by the grief that permeates Godric’s Hollow now that she can’t bring herself to let him go when he squirms. The routine that she relied on is gone, and she struggles to establish a new one, to deal with Harry’s distress every time he asks for James and she can’t explain to him that Dada is gone forever. When she desperately needs a break, she can arrange for someone to babysit, but the moment he is out of her sight a panic grips her chest–her nightmares are of Voldemort reappearing in the Hollow with James’ dead body at his feet, Harry dangling, lifeless, in his grip.
The worst part is that she still can’t shake the desire to maintain appearances. Everyone thinks she is so brave, so resilient: she can’t let them know she’s a terrible mother and falling apart at the seams. As long as Harry is happy and healthy, they’ll never notice the weight she’s losing, the hesitation when she talks, the red rims around her eyes that never fade. By sheer force of will, Lily will prove to everyone and herself that she is strong enough to get through this.
extra.
Pinboard: https://pin.it/tvyj7td56b5ave
Relationships with others:
Marlene: The love of her life, James notwithstanding. The one woman Lily thought she would always be able to rely on. Even now, she struggles to speak of her best friend in the past tense, catching herself mid-sentence in the mistake; sometimes she still thinks she can see Marlene entering or exiting a room, only to realize it was actually Charity or Pandora with the light catching their hair just right. Marlene kept her bright and optimistic–lifted her head up even when she was in the depths of postpartum depression. James was her counterpart, but Marlene was her North Star.
Remus: With James and Marlene gone, Remus is the closest friend Lily has left. He has always been one of her closest confidants–the first person she trusted at Hogwarts after watching Severus join the table of green and silver. True, he became more James’ friend than hers over the years, but she appreciates how steadfast a friend he has been more than she can say. When she tried to push him away, he refused in a patient sort of way. She knows he is struggling, and she hates herself for not doing a better job of supporting him.
Sirius: Lily is afraid of him. She’s always loved him like her brother–or, rather, she’s loved him like James’ brother, because she has always relied on James to bridge the gap in her relationship with Sirius. They agreed, together, to make Sirius godfather, but right now, she doesn’t feel comfortable leaving Harry alone with him. This Sirius isn’t the same one she used to trust with her son’s life.
Alice: Oh, the guilt–it’s strongest when she looks at Alice. They were never really friends to begin with, and now Lily feels responsible for Alice’s grief. She can’t bring herself to make eye contact with the other woman, and she always self-consciously grabs up Harry if they are ever in the same room as her, stops him from getting too close. Seeing Alice’s steep decline into grief and the ensuing marital problems makes Lily feel lucky for still having her son–but then miserable for not being a better mother to him. Perhaps, she finds herself wondering, things would have been better if they’d gotten to Harry instead of Neville; at least Alice and Frank planned to have their son. Maybe they deserved to keep him more than she deserved to keep Harry.
Frank: She avoids him, as she does Alice, but for different reasons. Frank is fueled by vengeance, same as Sirius, and that scares her. But he doesn’t have the same emptiness that Alice seems to; his search for answers seems at least vaguely productive, and she wonders if maybe she could lend her efforts to helping him. If she could ever overcome her guilt about Harry’s survival, she might even offer someday.
Arthur: She wants to get closer to him, and she certainly has the opportunity, since Harry often plays with his sons, but Lily was more in contact with Molly than him and doesn’t even recall a single time she was left alone in a room with him before James’ death. She’s intimidated by someone who handles all those children so deftly, without complaint, and she’s afraid that he’s going to judge her for her inadequacies as a parent.
if I were…
if i were a season, i’d be fall.
if i were a time of day, i’d be midday–a few minutes past noon, when the sun is at its hottest and the world is at its brightest.
if i were a type of weather, i’d be a brisk wind.
if i were a scent, i’d be a garden in full bloom, blossoms open and full, the mixture of scents of the various flowers almost overwhelming.
if i were a plant, i’d be an orange lily.
if i were an element, i’d be fire, dependent on a counterpart to stay alive.
if i were a color, i’d be blood orange.
if i were a song, i’d be “Wish that You Were Here” by Florence + the Machine.
if i were an item of clothing, i’d be a headband.
if i were an object, i’d be a quill.
if i were one of the seven deadly sins, i’d be pride.
if i were one of the seven heavenly virtues, i’d be kindness.
if i were a god/goddess, i’d be Nike/Victoria.
The Candlelight Vigil
She could have used Harry as an excuse not to attend. Past his bedtime–really much easier if we keep him on a schedule—he’s too young to understand and might ruin it—Lily rehearsed several versions of the conversation she planned to open with Charity. When it came down to it, though, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not attending would probably bring more attention to her grief than she liked; suffering in private seemed so self-indulgent amidst the public signs of mourning that existed everywhere in the Hollow. At least at the vigil she would be expected to grieve. If it was more than she could endure, she could always leave early and it would be dark enough that nobody would demand an explanation. She should at least try.
It was late for Harry, of course, but he was delighted by the nighttime activity and the flickering lights and if she couldn’t keep him from talking he at least acquiesced to her request he keep his voice to a stage whisper. Lily didn’t expect to feel closure tonight, but the sense of community that the vigil sparked was enough. They might be all that was left of the Order, but they were enough to keep it going. To honor James’ and Marlene’s sacrifice.
Harry fell asleep on her shoulder before too long so she left early, quietly thanking Charity on her way out, walking slowly lest she jostle him too much. Glenda’s voice cut through the blanketed sobriety of the nighttime air and Harry awoke with a cry. She was too far away to hear everything clearly but Lily hurried back to the cemetery the instant the broadcast ended. Another headquarters? Did that mean Glenda knew about this one and would send people to them, like she (inadvertently) had sent Greta? Good news? Could some of the presumed dead still be alive?
The chatter and speculation was unbearable, especially when Harry began to cry, a toddler roused far past his bedtime too upset to be soothed back to sleep anywhere other than a bed. Tearing herself away from the feverish conversation should have been easy—but even as her head spun and ached Lily felt the adrenaline pumping through the night. Who had Glenda found?
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sparda3g · 5 years
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My Hero Academia Chapter 241 Review
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Well, it finally happened. We are back to the hero’s side. The timing is so strange. There’s another series that reintroduced a group as a whole within the same release date. The only difference is, my reaction is polar opposite. I’ll let you figure it out which one had me with glee. Right from the very start, the tone is night and day (maybe no pun intended) with heroes working on interviews. It’s a necessary change of pace after a dark development.
The chapter begins with Bakugo and Shouto being interviewed for their accomplishment for obtaining their provisional licenses. Bakugo is savage as always; Shouto is calm but clueless as always. Needless to say, the interview was rowdy. Sucks for Bakugo though; he gets cut off entirely in the official broadcast. It sets up for the chapter to be filled with humorous and light-hearted moments. It does feel like it has been a while since we last saw them, so it’s fine. The chapter’s cover did make me laugh however. It’s a picture perfect on who is prioritized in Class 1-A, let alone the entire cast.
The use of news report is to give us the heroes’ reaction as well as clarifying the small time-skip. It has been nine days since the last arc and things are getting rebuild. I imagine it will go down again later. I find it funny how much this series is really hammering in that many following actions after Hideout Raid Arc are deemed worse. At least it’s preparing the fans for the inevitable Dragon Ball Z level of crazy. The citizens in Deika were interviewed and rather discouraging heroes as no good, they were seen as bright and trustworthy companion. I know they have to hide the actual fact, though it almost sound like consequences are declined. Funny, because many fans thought that would be the case.
Mt. Lady barges in with a fan service pose and it’s time for Class 1-A to learn the value of exposure. I chuckled when Mineta was horrified at the sight. Leave it to her to talk about spotlight, starting with media. Not going to lie, I sort of cringed with the way the term “Plus Ultra” was used. Anyway, the task is practicing hero’s interviews. It’s only for this chapter; imagine an arc around it. It’s designed for some gag and retelling some of hero’s goal and technique.
Shouto can fit the hero’s term well, only he is clueless on reading the mood or intention. For example, he explains his thoughts on the ethic of heroism. Mt. Lady, who is playing the role of an interviewer, is so touched by his mannerism, that her heart is about to burst. He reacts like she was in real danger. I’m assuming Kohei is making his character lean closer to Drax from Guardians of the Galaxy, who can’t read sarcasm and takes everything literal. I’m fine with that.
In case you have forgotten, Shouto recalls his current power still unable to carry the mantle that Endeavor hoping to see. In other words, his ongoing development. Not that I was worried, but at least it’s good to know that this is ongoing, so we can expect further insight of father-son bonding. But first, he needs to work on his reading; otherwise, he will believe completely that his smile can kill.
In case you feel this lesson is meaningless, though perhaps in a long run in writing it will be, Mt. Lady assure that it has its own value; one in which can grasp the attention of many, villains included. It’s why they have to do super moves to show off and reassure the citizens that they will be safe. At least she has changed, so there’s that. It goes through a montage of classmates and their interviews. Pretty telling on how important they are. Sadly, I was hoping for more of their involvement here. It still carries the same problem of characters not fleshing out and its consequences continue to resurface.
The montage breaks off with Bakugo flat out tells everyone to shut up and follow him. Now that’s a one-man army speaking. Imagine having him as your PR; it will be a nightmare. Deku is next and the image of his stiffed posture is funny. I think it’s technically 4th wall breaking when the classmates can see him in his blocky design; Kirishima even believed he has the similar hardening ability. It’s funny how he become excited and collective when All Might was mentioned. I can somewhat relate to that.
Being the protagonist he is, the moment is bound to have a serious tone; case in point, his reflection on his Sage of Six Quirks. It’s basically a verification that he will put it on hold, but will use them eventually. If you thought it was fun to watch him achieving the percentage of one quirk, try six more. I’m still not a fan of this idea. Now that Deku confirmed that these other six quirks will be like his original progression, to me, Kohei seems to be afraid of taking a different approach in its formula; repeating it many time. Speaking of repeating formula, the next arc is hinted and honestly, I laughed.
The Principal set the stage for possibly but most likely next arc. It’s Internship 2.0 Arc. I like to think Kohei wants to redo and make it better. I’ll lose my head if it’s a repeat. I also like to think he’s pulling off the film Dark Phoenix, but that will be a nightmare for all of us. It suggested that the main trio will be the center stage for the next arc. At least, that’s how it was panelized in the end. Even so, the formula won’t be branching off for a while. I’m just hoping the execution and choreograph are improved.
It was a fine chapter. It had some funny moments, but largely, it’s a recap to who and what the new uprising heroes are. It was longer than usual, but it didn’t have much visual exploitation, so it’s easier to work on. The hint of the next arc had me laughing. In all seriousness, it’s expected to have another arc that will involve with real life problems, now that the villains have their uprising. Will the next arc be the Spider-Man Homecoming transiting from the Amazing series, or will it be Dark Phoenix transiting from The Last Stand? Pray for the former…
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Shadowhunters 3x18, The Beast Within -- Review
Now that I've got 3x17 over with...Let's get into 3x18, The Beast Within. And yet another episode where it's abundantly clear the writers wouldn't know subtlety if it drop kicked them in the face. This show has introduced fun concepts this season but as per usual, they feel the need to execute these concepts in the most boring way imaginable. It's also super weird to watch the premiere of a Halloween themed episode in the middle of April.
As always, I'm not a fan of Shadowhunters. I'm just watching this show to see what happens and I’m reviewing it because I feel obligated to. I don't think it's a good show, I actually think it's pretty trashy and it really only exists to be shipping fodder except minus the character and relationship development, there is none, so it basically fails even at that. But if you like Shadowhunters, that's perfectly fine. We like what we like. You just might not want to read this. Also spoilers for the books and movies. 
I think I've actually hit maximum apathy for this show now. I normally blacklist shadowhunter posts while the new episode airs so I don't get spoiled when I watch the new episode the following day. But yesterday, I forgot to do that, I got spoiled and I didn't care. I saw plenty of gifs and discussions come across my dash and I didn't care. I'm truly saddened that I've at last hit this point. I always knew it would only be a matter of time before I would be brought to this point and it looks like I'm there now. But it's cool. We're on the final stretch until this show is finally done. So I really only have to suffer a little longer. 
The Cure That Didn't Cure
Our "heroes" attempt to cure Clary of the mark using the Heavenly Fire but I guess the batch is too diluted for it to work. So it was really kind of a pointless scene that I don't even know why it exists other than to waste time. Oh and I guess to showcase Kat's screaming techniques which are pretty cringey. I hate it when she screams on this show. It never sounds like she's genuine. But you know, it's alright. Some people just aren't screamers. We can't all be Candace King (Caroline from TVD). Now, that girl can scream. I don't know how she does it but she's just really good at putting the emotion into her scream where you feel like you're feeling the same pain she is. The way she jerks her body, how she inflects her voice mid-scream, it's quite impressive. I certainly never enjoy watching my favorite character in TVD get tortured (and I think she was the most physically tortured character on the entire show) but I do applaud her ability to act out the torture. Oh, and Clary's lazer powers have come back. Thank God for that. I don't know if I could possibly survive without seeing another cringey scene of lazers flying out of Clary's hands again. Just why, show? Why? It's not necessarily. You've already depicted Clary as a fully functioning shadowhunter regardless if it was earned or not. Are the lazer powers really necessary?
But since it's Halloween, demons are running amok and everyone has to go out hunting and I'm just asking why they thought it would be a good idea to take Clary of all people to patrol? You know, the person who has shown they aren't always in control of their actions. They're going to take that person, give her deadly weapons and they didn't think it was going to go badly? But the fight eventually takes them to the sewer Clary makes the choice to join Jonathon instead of Jace so we're finally getting dark!Clary even though this is definitely not what I wanted. I don't want the show to use magic to make her dark, I want the show to acknowledge the darkness that was already there way before the mark. In fact, if they absolutely felt like they had to go this route, have the cure work but Clary still chooses to go with Jonathon because the mark helped bring out some of her more innate darkness and then deal with that for the final few episodes we're in. You know, do something to acknowledge that Clary isn't this precious little flower child. Allow her some character development. I also don't particularly understand why she chose to go with Jonathon. I get the mark was making her feel a little sympathetic but I don't understand how it lead to this?
The Continuation of the Malec Drama
It's not a Shadowhunters episode without Malec drama, am I right? Well, in return to giving Magnus his magic back, Asmodeus tells Alec to end his relationship with Magnus so it's basically every Malec fanfiction ever. Alec talks it over with both Jace and Izzy to varying degrees of success and he comes to the conclusion that he needs to break up with Magnus as he feels like this is going to save Magnus. And why wouldn't he think that? Magnus has been putting an awful lot on Alec regarding this whole situation so why wouldn't Alec feel this way? Alec breaks up with Magnus, telling Magnus that the past few days has made him feel like the spark that Alec loved about Magnus is gone. Magnus tries to stop him but ultimately, Alec walks away. And the break-up is alright, I guess, I just hate how "high school" writing it is. For me, a far more complex and interesting break-up would be Alec using the reasoning of that Magnus can't just lean on Alec for the rest of his life. He can't keep on pushing the drama onto Alec expecting Alec to fix it. Which has long been an issue I've had with the Malec relationship. That every time something goes wrong in in the relationship, Alec is the one who has to give way and fix it instead of both of them working together to fix it. Alec could tell Magnus he doesn't want to be in a relationship playing second fiddle to Magnus's identity crisis. He has to think about what will make him happy.  
And can we talk about how terrible this line is, "You're not that selfish." This is Magnus basically implying that he likes that Alec selflessly makes allowances in the relationship instead of perhaps doing what he wants to do. And it also kind of reads like emotional manipulation. "I can't accept this break-up so I'm going to make you feel like a bad person so you won't break-up with me". So just, wow, Shadowhunters. 
Becky 
Believe it or not, there was something I did enjoy in this episode and that was Simon's sister Becky returning. She is so much fun, has so much energy, and with the innocence on how she approaches the shadow world, I kind of wish this actress played Clary. Kat's alright but I've never been too terribly impressed with her portrayal of Clary but the actress who plays Becky really brings energy in every scene she's in and I want her to be in more scenes. And what is it about this show and siblings who have more chemistry with each other than the love interests? 
Though, I do think it's weird that shadowhunters who have literally grown up in the heart of NYC don't know mundane vampire culture, though. If you grew up in Idris, I can understand that but how have they lived in NYC, apparently they always patrol on Halloween and yet know nothing about how mundanes view vampires? It's just really hard to believe.
At Becky's request, Sizzy goes back into gear in all of its cringey glory. They literally made a pack two episodes ago to stay single and now this is being shoehorned in. Why? If they were going to do this. This pact should've been made a season ago. When you make a pact like this, it only works if the couple is a slow-burn and Sizzy definitely has not been that. 
I Guess I Have to Talk About the Jordan Redemption
I don't hate that the show is giving Jordan a redemption arc but I do dislike how the show is going about it. It's definitely not deserved. Just because he saved Maia's life and joined an organization dedicated to helping people and that's enough to forgive Jordan for being a shitty person both before and after he became a werewolf? Come on.
I also hate the idea of Maia having to rebuild the pack. It does such a disservice to her character to make her own pack as opposed to taking control of her pack and showing that she's become strong enough to assert herself towards these individuals that previously looked down on her. 
There's just so much going on in this episode that if the show was more subtle, it might've worked. But Subtlety and Shadowhunters have never gone hand-in-hand. I'll give this episode a B. I liked Becky and the structure of the episode wasn't bad. But other than the Becky parts, I thought this episode was pretty bland and most of what the episode did, I found to be pretty cringey and just generally trashy.
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sketchiedetails · 6 years
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As much as Metal Gear Rising owes to the Metal Gear series, I think it’s also partly an expansion on Vanquish’s themes of heroism and war profiteering.
Vanquish has a very simple plot: Russian terrorists took over a space colony and are threatening the US with its weapons. In response, the US sends Marines to reclaim the colony and  DARPA loans out one of their employees Sam Gideon in an experimental Augmented Reaction Suit (ARS) to assist the Marines’ assault. It’s revealed later that the real reason Sam is there is to rescue the ARS’ creator who was on the colony and taken hostage by the terrorists.
Metal Gear Rising continues Raiden’s story after Metal Gear Solid 4 and explores how the war economy has shifted focus onto cyborg soldiers. A rival PMC outfit killed Raiden’s client and in response he spends the rest of the game dismantling their operations across the globe. The outfit shatters Raiden’s worldview, and he has to rebuild it from the ground up and accept a part of himself he’s been afraid of for most of his life.
At first glance these games’ stories don’t seem to have much in common besides a lone hero in his unique suit fighting terrorists, but both games ask what it means to be a hero on the battlefield. Sam is full of conviction for most of Vanquish but at the end of the game he questions himself if he’s any better than Burns for killing soldiers who got in his way. Raiden starts MGR with a strong belief in violence to ensure justice, but by the end he accepts his violent nature as a part of himself and admits that he enjoys the killing he gets to do as a PMC soldier.
Both games feature characters who serve as strong foils for the hero. Robert Burns is a colonel who views duty above all else to be the most important thing a soldier can do, even at the cost of his own men’s lives. Armstrong and the Desperado outfit are strong proponents for might makes right and want to apply this philosophy to every aspect of society. Burns and Jetstream Sam also have similar design concepts in that they are both the right hand men for the real people responsible for all the problems in their respective stories and it’s symbolized in their visual design as they both have augmented right arms. Burns’ arm can transform into a shielded Gatling gun, which represents his soldier background and fighting capability and Jetstream Sam’s arm sports the signature Desperado color scheme which clashes with the rest of his muscle suit.
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In contrast, the other Desperado mercs are fully immersed in Armstrong’s philosophy and thus their entire suits sport the black and red motif. Sam was beaten by Armstrong and stays on the team, but like his design implies he hasn’t completely bought what Armstrong preached, which is why he grants Raiden access to his sword after losing to Raiden in a final duel.
Both games try to make the player feel like they have support in the battlefield. The Marines who assist Sam in Vanquish give the player the impression that they’re involved in a large scale military operation, and they’ll frequently get radio messages either from nearby troops, Burns, or Elena who provides remote support specifically for Sam (Small note: I find it funny that Kari Wahlgren voices support characters for both games). Being a Metal Gear game, MGR has a group of Codec contacts the player can call for advice or flavor text to help flesh out MGR’s setting. Later on, there’ll be an NPC in-game who accompanies Raiden in missions, but never in actual fights. They’re meant to scout ahead and provide information on the field. This may be inconsequential, but both games also have the hero losing their signature weapon at the end of the game only to use their rival’s weapon on the final boss.
Both games give you opportunities to be heroic in-game to reinforce the theme of heroism in their stories. Vanquish pairs Sam up with a seemingly inexhaustible pool of Marines to help him in every fight and they do draw attention away from Sam so he can dart across the map and turn the tide of battle.These Marines are fairly hardy, but they can go down if they take too much damage. Sam has the ability to revive downed Marines and in return they’ll give Sam a weapon drop. Some setpieces in Vanquish are escort quests where you have to make sure friendly vehicles get to their destinations without taking critical damage from enemy fire. In MGR, there are civilians detained by PMC soldiers that Raiden can rescue. They don’t reward you in any way and depending on how you look at it that can be seen as more altruistic because you’re going out of your way to helping that NPC without expecting an in-game reward.
Vanquish frequently shows Sam’s heroic tendencies by having him clash with Burns whenever there are soldiers in trouble. It’s stated in Sam’s bio that he was a football player in college and not in the military. This could imply that he’s more a team player than an obedient soldier. He’ll do whatever he can to help the people around him even if it goes against the operation.
Much like everything else in MGR compared to Vanquish, Raiden’s backstory and character arc are a little more complicated than Sam’s. Raiden has a background as a child soldier and the reason why he breaks off from Maverick to take on Desperado and World Marshall by himself is because they threaten the lives of several children and plan to turn them into VR-trained child soldiers just like Raiden. He initially justified his actions as a necessary evil to ensure peace, but Desperado tried to strip those justifications away either to dissuade Raiden or to turn him. What they didn’t expect was for Raiden to take that recently uncovered brutality he’s always had in him and use it against them. He hasn’t forgotten his original philosophy of protecting the weak, but he also won’t lie to himself anymore that he’s no worse than Desperado when it comes to being a killer.
An interesting quality both games share is that their writing are very much parodies of post-9/11 fearmongering, which isn’t something you’d usually expect in Japanese action games. In Vanquish, the Russian terrorists assert that US president Winters helped them with their coup d’etat and now the terrorists plan to attack the US first before the US targets them. Winters is apparently close to Burns and the real reason for the assault on the colony was so Burns could redirect the weapons to Russia and instigate another war, which according to Burns will be an “Economic Stimulus Package.” Armstrong has a similar goal in Metal Gear Rising where he plans to encourage tensions between the US and Pakistan so that the war economy can thrive and purge America’s weaker elements.
I’m not too strong on politics, but it feels like Burns and Armstrong are polar opposites in terms of ideology but they reached the same conclusion as a result of their extremism. Burns has a soldier’s mentality and thinks that duty exceeds any other obligation a person has. Russia destroying San Francisco was necessary in Burns’ mind to ensure the rest of America will thrive thanks to the coming war. Armstrong seems to be a strong proponent of the individual and thinks that the war economy will promote jobs and thin out the weaker parts of America so that every citizen will be strong enough to fight for their own ideals. He’s making “the mother of all omlettes,” and can’t be bothered over a few broken eggs.
What makes Armstrong such a compelling villain to me is that I can’t trust his rhetoric. Armstrong says he plans to use “war as a business to get elected...so [he] can end war as a business.” He also goes on a rant about the problems endemic in First World societies even though those are the means by which he’s able to maintain control. He comes off as someone so neckdeep in their bullshit that it’s impossible to take them seriously, and that makes it all the more enjoyable to kick his ass. Burns at best felt like a good foil to temper Sam’s naivete when it came to war, but his betrayal came way too late into the story to have any real impact. Armstrong could have run the same risk since he doesn’t show up physically in the story until the last chapter, but MGR gave him enough of a spotlight to really shine and be one of the most memetic video game characters in recent history, which is ironic considering MGR explores more of the meme theory material the Metal Gear series introduced in MGS2.
As he’s technically Vanquish’s final boss, I need to point out Victor Zaitsev and where his motivations compare to Burns and Armstrong. Zaitsev feels justified in attacking America because Winters was going to attack Russia now that the terrorists she secretly backed have taken control of the country. Fearing betrayal, the terrorists attacked America first. As Zaitsev says, “The betrayed have a right to retribution.” Just like Burns, his motivation is simple compared to Armstrong’s longwinded bullshit, but it’s too simple a motivation to carry Vanquish’s plot any further than it already is at that point.
I hope I’m not making Vanquish sound a lot more politically intriguing than it really is. It’s an action game first and the story is entirely skippable. Metal Gear Rising’s plot has more meat, and I feel like for the most part it answers the questions it wants to ask, which is something I think Binary Domain (another Japanese third-person cover shooter which I’m going to compare with Vanquish in another post) fails to do.
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twilight-resonance · 3 years
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Whirl
Well, it turns out that whatever I did last night does not in fact keep my dreams from fragging. Was just as bad last night. So I guess I’ve got to do the normal processing for it to work. Which is not to say that I don’t need to bother with anything else. Actually making myself be a person is also important, but dreams are a place to start. Sigh.
Hurting a lot tonight. Been hurting a lot the last few. ...This is not helped by my fairly throughly trashed sleep-quality the last few nights. I tried a new shampoo and it turns out there was something in it that I’m allergic to (lavender) and I didn’t realize right away; so my allergies have been absolutely terrible the last few nights, and consequently so has my sleep quality. Not sleeping enough doesn’t typically wreck me, but this - whatever this is - really has. I haven’t been able to think straight for a few days now. It’s amazing how much muscle memory tries to compensate for decision-making - and how it results in things like, oh, taking the coffee cone off the cup so that you can pour hot water directly into your cream. *facepalm* My last few days have been a minefield of these things, to say nothing of my ability to focus on anything less concrete. Sigh again. Well, I’ve got different shampoo now and I washed my pillowcase, and I’m hoping between that and writing properly tonight maybe I’ll get a good night’s sleep this time. If we can get up early we’ll make waffles again tomorrow morning, so we’ll hope for that.
It’s hard to describe what, exactly. We had to take the car we’ve been borrowing from Hearthsnail’s dad to get smogged today; and while we were waiting, we went to hang out on the harbor that his dad’s been rebuilding for the last couple years (yes, the entire harbor, from the docks to the pilings to the buildings - the man is formidable). It... I don’t know. It hit a sweet-sore spot. Reminded me of how much I miss being down the coast at my old job. Not the job itself - though I miss that too - but the place. Those salty-sweet early mornings with the frigid sea breeze blowing in, and the wind pulling at all hours, and the sort of... loneliness that comes with it. It’s a loneliness that is itself a sort of balm for loneliness; that takes the bitter and makes it soft and familiar and somehow comforting. I’ve never been one for the beach, nor for the coast itself; but oh, in another life, I could have been a sailor. I understand that siren’s call to leave and up-and-go and lose yourself in the day-by-day rhythm of minding the sails and the ropes and the salt and the tar; in the hard work, and in the nowhere else to be. There’s a way that sort of life makes room for finding some peace in and with yourself, because you’ll go mad if you can’t; because you lose all your other ties in the world, and all there is is what you bring. It’s that sort of peace, I suppose, that I crave; and that sort of hurt brought up and pulled tender today. I would have liked to sit on the end of one of the docks and simply sat and done nothing, and maybe find a moment of that peace; but it wasn’t in the cards. Still, though. Still.
There are other things that are hurting, but to be honest I get the sense that many of them are only hurting because I’m hurting; and that it’s other things at root. Once upon a time I could’ve searched it down, but that’s a skill that still escapes me these days. These nights are practice, for what it’s worth.
Sigh. Let’s talk about the last little while. May’s been busy. Part of why I haven’t written. Part, I just haven’t. It’s been a whirl of appointments, chores, tours, and other meetings. Been looking at wedding venues this month; so far, we’re two for four with four to go. There’s one in particular that looks promising - if I could get them to respond to my contact attempts. But there are other good ones too. Then there’s the health things - I needed my TB clearance updated and that turned into a saga of three separate appointments, and another checkup I need to schedule that is... probably nothing, but something you want to catch as absolutely as early as possible if it is something (and given I've let it go two years now, we’re already a few strikes down on that one). Then all the miscellaneous chores: smogging the car, as I already mentioned, and going through the motions necessary to actually buy a new one of our own. So that’s new - and also a process. Hoping to have it in time for summer. 
Then there’s all the other bits and pieces. Signing up for intro sessions for possibly intern teaching next year. They’re going to need teachers, and I’m tired of not having work - and I can do the double load. Also applied for a position at EdPuzzle that, well, we’ll see - haven’t heard anything back from them either. I’ve just reached a breaking point with... not having proper health insurance, and doctor access, and not being able to replace the things I need when they break or wear out, and not having any kind of independence or safety net if something goes terribly wrong. I would like to be able to help pay for the variety of expensive things coming up - the car, the wedding, a new mattress that you can’t feel the springs through, dental work, etc - and I’m, just, tired. Tired of having these things hanging over my head and feeling immobilized because I can’t, you know, actually do anything about them. ...There’s a position I’ve got my eye on, if I can make the interning thing work. It’s not quite where I wanted, but it’s doable, and at this point that’s good enough for me. If I can get it. We’ll see.
Thing’s’ve been hard. For a long time now. Most of the time I trudge on without thinking about it, but I feel like the cracks have been showing a little more and a little more lately. It’s rough. I’m still miles better than I’ve been, but there’s still miles left to go too - well. You know how it goes.
Let’s see. More mundane things. I think I said that of all the things we planted, only the corn’s growing; but my gods, is it growing. An inch a day on the biggest stalks, which is nothing to sneeze at. Had a few not quite come in right - the seeds are a bit old so I wonder if they just got a bit weird - and had one gnawed down by a mysterious critter. Not sure if it was bird or bug or mammal or mollusk. The corns that I transplanted did okay and are still shooting up, so that makes me happy. We’ve been enjoying spending time in the garden now that we’ve got the space set up for it; it’s a nice space. 
There’s food. Was craving french dip the other night of all things, so I spent some time figuring out how to best make that vegetarian and got the things for it. So that’ll be new, when we do it. Got things to make coffee cake, too - something else I’ve been wanting to try to make - and banana cream pie, which I’ve made once before a long time ago. Hearthsnail’s never had it, and I figure he’ll probably like it, so. We also got lemons for lemonade, and ingredients for sushi now that it’s warmed back up again... So lots of food we haven’t done before, or haven’t done for months. I still keep hoping Hearthsnail will feel up to making bread one of these days. Not that I couldn’t do it, but it was his idea and it’ll make him happy to be the one to do. 
Ugh, which reminds me of wedding catering. I’m both looking forward to that, and not. Spent some time trying to figure out how you put a menu together, and as far as I can tell the only guidance that exists online is for how to get a caterer, not how to work with one - so. Bleh. I dunno. This one goes into a separate ramble about vegetarian food, and how frustrating it is that most peoples’ idea of what vegetarian food is consists of “uh, I dunno - eggplant? mushrooms? squash? tofu? and maybe let’s throw that together with some quinoa or rice or something, and maybe have a salad on the side”. Like. It’s not that hard, you guys. It’s all the same recipes you’d make... without the meat. It’s not that hard to make tikka masala or chicken noodle soup and just add potatoes instead of meat. Or gumbo without the sausage. Or sushi without the fish. It’s just... not that hard. Most of the time the taste of the dish is good enough on its own, and if you really need or want a meaty flavor for something, there’s things you can do about that. Soy sauce helps fill in for beef, curry helps add a bit of a chicken-y flavor (weirdly enough), etc. Some things are harder - like the french dip above is definitely not one that’s intuitive - but seriously. It’s not that hard. I don’t understand the disconnect, and I'm not looking forward to trying to navigate it for catering.
Simple pleasures. What else. Gods, I don’t know. I ordered some more socks the other day because I’m tired of not having socks, even though I can’t really afford it right now. Should be here tomorrow. There ought to be other things besides, and I feel like there ought to be, but I can’t fathom what. On to other things, then, I suppose.
We’ve been watching Stargate SG1. Maybe I already mentioned that, maybe I didn’t. Either way, we’ve been enjoying it, though as with all things it took me a while to get there. We’ve enjoyed most of all, I think - once they get a few seasons in and really hit their groove, the characters just act like I swear honest-to-gods adventurers. Like, there are so many moments we’ve just straight-up been there for before, or watched players do or try to pull, and it just all feels very RPG in a way. I particularly enjoy the part where Daniel just decided at some point that he’s died too many times and just doesn’t give a fuck anymore, and just kind of says and does whatever. Been there, buddy. Been there too. So that’s a thing.
Events have been a thing, but they’re a kind of stressful that I don’t want to touch right now. Plenty have been good. Many have been fine. There are just other background elements that exist too. Another day. Maybe once I’m closer to resolving them.
Heh. Thanks, song. “You’re doin’ me wrong/Dissecting the bird/Tryin’ to find the song//It’s a miracle/That you’re here at all...” (John Craigie)
(True enough. I just wish I knew how to go for the song otherwise though, you know? I feel like all I’ve got is scalpels and I’m supposed to do... what? Sigh. I dunno.)
There’s a game I’ve been playing - did I talk about it at all? - called “Yes, Your Grace”. I was expecting it to be a bit more “Papers Please” and a bit less story-adventure, but I’ve still enjoyed it. Lost my first run of it - won the battle but got strung up by my peasants afterwards, so that didn’t go too well. Trying again with a second run and it’s going better now that I’ve got a feel for it. We’ll see if the end goes any better this time. 
Not sure what else to talk about. Still trying to dump as much of my brain on the page as I can tonight so that the dreams don’t find me. Last night’s was upsetting; more in undertones than overtones, but it still upset me nonetheless. Old hauntings, and all. 
Been working on Fal the last few. Not that that’s unusual itself; more that there are a few things I haven’t made headway on for a long time that all came together in leaps and bounds. Prices for large structures, equipment slots, how to organize the health section, illness symptoms, etc. It’s just been, dunno, nice. I’d like to have another draft of the rulebook out as soon as I can, because it hit me recently how outdated the one everyone else has been working with is and I ought to fix that. Just, want to wrap a few things up first so they’ll be more useful. Past lives, too, I made some headway on. Website needs some working but that’s its own other deal.
I think I’m about out. Not sure I’m empty, as it were, but I’m out. We’ll chance bed and see how it goes tonight. Hoping for sleep to go a bit better this time. Gods, I’m tired.
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anneapocalypse · 6 years
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The Blood Gulch Chronicles and the Tragic Finale
Writing about season 15 a while back got me thinking about RvB protagonists, and I wrote a bunch of additional stuff on the subject that didn’t make it into that post and I wasn’t sure what ultimately I was going to do with it. But there’s nothing like an old gifset of season 5 to make me suddenly need to wrangle a post out of this immediately, so let’s go. ;)
Church is the protagonist of the Blood Gulch Chronicles. Yes, it’s an ensemble story, but that story is driven largely by Church--his actions, his relationships both past and present, even his death(s). Yes, Blood Gulch has a plot. The sequence of events may feel convoluted, unserious, even random at times, but there is a plot.
And one thing that makes Blood Gulch very interesting to me to this day is that it’s a story about failure. Church, as the main character, has one primary goal since season 1: to keep Tex safe. That is what he wants, and that is what he seeks to do: by warning Tucker not to get her involved, by orchestrating her rescue from Red Team when she gets involved anyway, by his (real or perceived) time-travel in an attempt to fix everything, by attempting to protect her from Omega and Wyoming. You can argue that he also has the secondary goal of protecting his teammates, Tucker and Caboose, but Tex is his primary motivator.
The problem? Tex doesn’t want to be protected. She can take care of herself, and she wants to make her own decisions. If she wants to go on the Great Journey, she damn well will. If getting rid of Omega isn’t good enough for her and she wants to kill him too, she damn well will. If she wants to kidnap an alien baby in the name of humanity’s survival? Well.
See the thing is, Church fails.
Sure, Tucker succeeds in killing Wyoming. Tucker’s story in Blood Gulch is one of success, and I don’t think it’s an accident that he develops into a highly-motivated character in his own right, and goes on to become a protagonist himself in later seasons.
But Church? Church fails. Even though Wyoming dies, his plot still succeeds; his story convinces Tex to rejoin the war effort and leave her new friends, and Church, behind. The villain dies, but in a way he still wins. Tex takes Omega back, kidnaps Junior, and takes off in Kai’s dropship which then appears to explode in atmosphere (which, we later learn, is actually Andy the Bomb going off). Church loses Tex, fails at the one thing he has been trying to do since season 1, and the story ends.
For the arc with a reputation as the most lighthearted, humorous, and unserious portion of the Red vs. Blue canon, the Blood Gulch Chronicles is in some ways the grimmest and most hopeless in terms of its resolution. That is its irony. That irony is one of the many reasons I still love it, and still think it carries interest as a story.
And you could argue (and I will) that it is in fact season 5 that sets the precedent for what I will call the tragic finale in Red vs. Blue. There is no RvB arc, no matter how triumphant, that ends without loss.
Though Reconstruction is the culmination of Church’s character arc, Wash is the protagonist of that season as well as the Recollections trilogy as a whole, because it is his motivations and his actions that drive the plot. Reconstruction reconstructs the Red vs. Blue universe in the larger context of Project Freelancer, and it needs a perspective from outside of Blood Gulch to do that, so Wash is the point of view character, not Church.
The conclusion of the Reconstruction arc is primarily the culmination of Wash’s goal: to stop the Meta and expose the abuses of Project Freelancer. But in the process, we also get the culmination of Alpha Church’s story. He learns his true origins, and for reasons that have been much-debated over the years, stays to help Wash defeat the Meta--and is destroyed by the EMP in the process.
It’s really unfortunate that the scene in Reconstruction where Wash convinces Church to stay and confront the Meta with him was cut (you can find it in the DVD/Blu-Ray extras), because it makes it so much clearer why this is the culmination of Church’s character arc and not a senseless death. It is, in Church’s mind, the one way he can make up for his failure to protect Tex. If she needs him now, he can go to her. Maybe he will still fail, and maybe they will die, but at least he can do what he feels he was meant to do. In the best case scenario, they are both ghosts and they carry on. In the worst case scenario--
well, at the very least, he can see her one last time.
And thus, the tragic finale. Even Wash’s victory is only a partial one, and a bitter one; he succeeds in stopping the Meta, but Caboose fails to uphold his end of the plan, keeps the memory unit instead of turning it in, and with no evidence against the Director to exonerate him, Wash lands in prison.
The ending of season 8 is similarly bittersweet, though a bit more optimistic. Once again, the Meta’s defeat makes for a celebrated victory, and Wash’s adoption into Blue Team begins a new chapter in his story. But once again, Church is lost--not forever, but locked down in the memory unit chasing eTex down through the iterations of his reconstructed memories. The tragedy here is twofold: Epsilon Church, in recreating Tex from his memories, is subject to a rude awakening in learning that Tex, as always, has her own plans and ambitions far beyond being his long lost girlfriend. (I’m not saying this is objectively a tragedy; I’m saying that narratively what is, in Epsilon’s mind, a betrayal becomes a personal tragedy that for him mirrors the failure of Alpha Church at the end of season 5.) And Caboose has spent two seasons rebuilding his best friend--only to lose him again.
And so the cycle repeats.
Season 10, I would say, doesn’t necessarily break this pattern but it does turn it on its head--which is appropriate! The protagonist of the Freelancer arc, though often obscured by clumsy writing and POV problems, is undoubtedly Carolina, and the finale is the culmination of her character arc: to break the Church family cycle, and be the one to let go. (And no, I don’t care what the book says, I don’t care what anyone says, this is not a forgiveness ending or a redemption ending for the Director; it is both of those things for Carolina herself, and this is a hill I will die on, but that’s another post.)
This is why it’s Carolina who tells Epsilon he needs to let go, and not the reverse. Because she is the change. She is the one who breaks the cycle of tragedy, of recreation and destruction. And that is why she is the Church who lives on to this day.
There is tragedy at the end of season 10, without a doubt. Particularly in the flashbacks, where Tex fails to save both Alpha and Carolina. In the past, we see the cycle continue. But in the present day, in Carolina’s survival and in the choices she makes, there is hope. The cycle is broken. This is why, even in its clumsy execution, I’ve come to feel that showing the past and present storylines side by side was important, even necessary.
And of course I can’t conclude without mentioning season 13, which closes the book on the Church family story. (From that perspective, season 15 is really more of an epilogue, making at least an attempt to honor Church’s memory while letting him go–though in my opinion it sort of bungles the tragic finale both by excluding Carolina from the Church closure and by grasping for a less-significant character to actually kill off, which makes it not really the note I’m looking to end this essay on!)
But in the Chorus trilogy, as in every preceding finale, there is no victory without loss. Doyle’s sacrifice ties into the Chorus conflict itself and the dynamics of the two sides, and that could be a whole post in itself. Epsilon’s sacrifice carries forward the Church family themes of love and loss and letting go from every previous finale, and mirrors Alpha’s sacrifice in season 6–but this time Church goes with unquestionably full knowledge and full agency, and this time, he goes not chasing an unwilling partner, but instead saving the friends who have accepted him and come back for him, time and again.
And Carolina lives on. The survivor, the scion of the Church family. The one who breaks the cycle--who lets go of the past, and lives.
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silent-of-spirit · 6 years
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World of Warcraft rant below, in regards to datamined info about the Battle for Azeroth expansion. Spoilers abound, but much of this is subject to change, considering we are still in Alpha (Here’s hoping) @inner-muse because you Get Me (tm) on this particular subject.
(Warning this is like PURE salt. I KNOW things may change, I KNOW that Blizz is known for retconning lore. Just... allow me my salt. I am Tired (tm))
Salty rant brought to you by this.
So, Night Elves. The Night Elves have been a historically strong and prominent race in lore. Their empire spread over much of Azeroth in ancient times, and even since, Kalimdor has largely been under Night Elf influence. This is a people who created one of the strongest and most fearsome armies Azeroth has ever known, comprised entirely of women while their men lie sleeping beneath the earth in barrow dens.This is an army that gave Warchiefs pause, an army that could not be overtaken by the might of the Horde. This is why Night Elven territory has largely been left alone despite the heavy Horde presence spreading over Kalimdor.
This is a people who has beaten back the Legion not once, but twice with very little - if any - outside assistance. This is a people from which some of Warcraft’s most powerful lore characters come from. Azshara, Illidan, Malfurion, Tyrande, a race which Ysera gave her favor and which holds the favor of one of the most powerful Goddesses in Warcraft - Elune, AKA the mother of the Naaru?
And this is a race that has been consistently shit on since Cataclysm. This is a race whose leader loses more of her spine with each new expansion - a woman who, historically, was known for her strength and fearlessness, who was chosen to lead her people because of her ability to do so. She is a woman who doesn’t crumble beneath pressure or difficult decisions, a woman who will accept an alliance but will not bow before them. She is a woman who has always led her people in a way that strengthens them, and a woman who would not hesitate to cut any ties that would hinder their progression. Tyrande is proud and fierce while still serving her people and her goddess with little regard to herself.
Or, she used to be. Now Blizzard tosses us the watered-down priestess who quakes in the face of the encroaching Horde, who bends over backwards to meet the demands of a King who would not do the same for her people (I LOVE Varian, don’t get me wrong, but if you think he would show the same devotion to the Night Elves that Tyrande does to the Alliance, well... agree to disagree.) A woman who spent ten thousand years aching for her lover, but still leading a strong and proud people, who falls apart the moment he returns? That is not the Tyrande I know. That is not the Tyrande I accept. With each expansion she becomes more unrecognizable - a spineless, blithering creature that makes me wonder if Blizzard even remembers their own lore. And now? With the burning of Teldrassil? You expect me to believe that she would not fight with everything in her to protect the World Tree? To protect her people? Her home? She has a goddess on her side! One who quite literally speaks through her at times and will imbue her with power.
But Sarah, we don’t know yet that she doesn’t fight back. Okay, okay, I will give you that one - but with this caveat. I truly believe that if she fought the way her character would, then she would not have survived the burning of Teldrassil. Datamining has showed us that Tyrande is alive and well.
Back to the People. Cataclysm wasn’t the beginning of Blizzard showing the faltering might of the Night Elves, but it was the most prominent stepping stone to further lore and expansions that continue to stomp all over the Night Elves. Now, okay, okay, I know, the Cataclysm destroyed major Night Elf settlements and lands... but not their armies. The Sentinels were split between Teldrassil and Feralas (both locations which the Cataclysm itself did very little in the way of destruction), with very few of their numbers actually falling during the events that rent the world. (Remember, a singular army that actually stopped the Horde from taking Night Elf lands. No backup, just THEM.) So now all of a sudden the Horde are invading Ashenvale? And making like... a lot of headway? (I know the reasonings behind the invasion. The invasion itself makes sense, but not how FAR they got) So... the sentinels just... do nothing? And the Night Elves can’t take back Ashenvale? I’m sorry? Please direct me to the place where this makes sense cuz like... it doesn’t. (Not bringing Hyjal or Desolace or Darkshore into this because the Cataclysm had much more of an impact than the Horde did in those zones) And yeah, the Cataclysm dealt the Night Elves a serious blow. I’m not discounting that, but their armies are still intact.
An army of expertly trained warriors from a race that is known above all else for their fierce pride. They would not sit idle. Even while helping their devastated territories, they would have more than enough numbers to march to Ashenvale and drive the horde back out. MORE than enough. The Horde presence was barely a blip in the grand scheme, and yet Blizz tried to tell us that they could not be pushed back, and that the elves are struggling to find purchase in this newly rent world. Ajhegdfkjg. The Night Elves are probably the most ADAPTABLE people in Warcraft lore. They survived the Sundering, survived the Legion TWICE (four times if you count BC and Legion now), survived demons and the Nightmare and betrayal and power and corruption and a world that has done everything in its power to see them wiped clean of it. They survived it ALL and THRIVED (not to the extent they used to, granted, but compared to others?) They moved, they rebuilt, they replanted, they trained and grew and prospered in the wake of all THAT and now you tell me that the Cataclysm is too much for them to come back from? AHjjhdgfh.
Mists wasn’t as hard on the race as a whole, but it was really a turning point in regards to Tyrande and how much her character had declined in SUCH an out of character way. Sending her people to a new land while the Horde still pressed in on Night Elf territories and their Warchief cackled in glee in nearby Orgrimmar after the bombing of an Allied city on her continent? Are you serious? *deep breath* Always always always she would put her PEOPLE first, not the runaway whelp of an allied king when there was still so much at stake. (Again, LOVE Anduin and Varian) The Night Elves didn’t even get a chance to rebuild before she was sending them off to places unknown at the command of Varian Wrynn. *salt salt salt salt*
Draenor? Same shtick, but with weird space-time travel that the Night Elves should want NO part of. (Hello? Well of Eternity anyone? Weird magic leads to baddddd things. Night Elves were RAISED not to trust that shit or anything having to do with the Void, which, let’s be honest, most weird time-space magic is usually Void related in some form or fashion)
Legion? *deeper breath, distant screaming* This expansion was the worst thing that could happen to Night Elves as a whole, Tyrande included. Yes, yay, we get to journey back to their ancestral homeland but then BAM we are smacked in the face with a corrupted World Tree, corrupted ghosts of a once noble order, a desecrated Vault and corrupted Wardens, the return of Illidan the Betrayer and all his cronies who are literally Part Demon, remnants of their people who survived in a protective shield only to turn to a well of arcane power (HELLO WELL OF ETERNITY AGAIN), Azshara’s naga cronies, tortured ghosts of Aszuna, satyrs everywhere you look in Val’Sharah, Old God bullshit, MORE Legion, and a consistent theme in the expansion is whacking us in the face with how easily Night Elves can be corrupted, used, and tossed aside. Weak Night Elves are like... half of all the content in the expansion. And that’s what upsets me so much, is that they are being painted this way and shoved in our faces as THIS and they are NOT weak, NOT easily corrupted (at least not any more than the other races), NOT power-mad, (the list goes on) And like? They face all of this absolute pile of shit in their ANCESTRAL HOME and they don’t even give themselves time to GRIEVE before they are leaping in to drive the darkness back. Like what about that is weak? Nothing, but hey, let’s paint them that way anyways.
And Tyrande? I cried actual tears at how she was portrayed. Malfurion too, though less so. Where did her fire go? Where did her spine go? Where is that ferocity and tenacity and pride that made me fall in love with her in the first place? There is so little trace of it left in this expansion that it actually felt like a physical blow. Instead we see her as a whimpering girl (aside from her interactions with Thalyssra. That is the most in character I have felt her be in a long time.)
And now we have a coming expansion that threatens to diminish the Night Elves and their proud history even more (I love the overall, okay, but the Night Elf stuff and Teldrassil REALLY bothers me). Not to mention, Sylvanas’ datamined dialogue regarding Teldrassil and Kalimdor? It feels like forced and lazy writing - a lore-shattering shove just to be able to justify the whole “separate continents” thing without really delving into why it is necessary or acknowledging the Night Elves and their history and how UNLIKELY it would be for the Horde to even get far enough to manage to torch the World Tree.
Yes, I am a Night Elf fangirl, but I think I am justified in feeling the way I do. When I see people who main Horde even seeing this pattern and saying the Night Elves should get a break? That should say a lot. We have been consistently shafted for no real reason other than lazy writing, and I am just... Tired (tm)
End rant.
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kaplunstevee · 4 years
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