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melatovnik · 3 years

Note

ok ur top faves wangxian fics go

hey yati! 🥰️

alright, so first things first, here’s a big wangxian fic rec list i made a while ago, if you wanna check that one out too! consider the list below part 2. these are all my faves so far since my last rec list (as you'll quickly see, i have a LOT of faves).

and just a fyi/psa/disclaimer for anyone reading this: some of these fics have disturbing themes and/or kinky/freaky sex! make sure to check the authors’ tags and notes before reading. also, much like my first rec list, there’s going to be a mix of mdzs and cql canon, characterizations, dynamics, etc., so bear that in mind.

....ok GO

live from new york by varnes | rated E | 87K words | THE snl au fic!!!! yes, by snl i mean saturday night live. this is perhaps the best and funniest story i've ever read, period. varnes is a fucking genius. read this fic.

Wei Ying lets out a long, ugly groan. “I am fine, Lan Zhan. Everybody is overreacting, it’s so embarrassing for all of you.”

“You had undiagnosed pneumonia, which you walked around with for weeks until you passed out during dress,” Lan Wangji corrects him. “It got a big laugh, until everyone thought you were dead.”

He keeps his voice even and does not tell Wei Ying that it had been Lan Wangji who caught him, who called the ambulance, and who rode with him to the hospital, where he was yelled at by nurses who wanted to know why he hadn’t noticed that Wei Ying couldn’t stop shivering or string proper sentences together.

“Rumors of my demise have been vastly overstated,” Wei Ying says. “Anyway, I’m already feeling much better. Basically fine. Really almost completely back to normal, so stop babying me and tell me why the fuck you let your stupid brother hire the worst man in the world to host our show.”

OR: the one where they all work at SNL, Yanli's ex-boyfriend is hosting, and that's just the beginning of everybody's problems.

swiss cheese theory by varnes | rated M | 19K words | sequel to snl au fic!!!!!! another must-read.

The Swiss Cheese model of accident causation likens human system defences to a series of slices of randomly-holed Swiss Cheese arranged vertically and parallel to each other with gaps in-between each slice. Defences against failure are modelled as a series of barriers, represented as slices of the cheese. The holes in the cheese slices represent individual weaknesses in individual parts of the system. The system as a whole produces failures when holes in all of the slices momentarily align, permitting "a trajectory of accident opportunity," so that a hazard passes through holes in all of the defences, leading to an accident.

OR: Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian go to the courthouse.

OR: “Sweethearts,” the city clerk had said, very gently, “you’re already married.”

best friends forever by varnes | rated T | 17K words | alright, so like, strictly speaking, wangxian isn't the focus of this fic, BUT. this fic is so good!! it is seriously so good, and it made me fall in love with jin ling/lan jingyi. also, it's varnes, so read it!

It happened like this: Jin Ling was a sect leader now, which was, and Jingyi really meant this, fucking hilarious. There were few things funnier, in his honest opinion.

Because he was young, and inexperienced, and also — it had to be said — a real shithead, there was apparently some belief amongst his advisors that the best way forward, to promote the picture of a stable, mature sect leader who absolutely did not cry at the drop of a hat, was for Jin Ling to get married.

OR: Jin Ling and Jingyi get engaged.

Things spiral from there.

For a Good Time, Call by ScarlettStorm | rated E | 171K words

The picture is of Wei Ying, that much is clear. It’s of a lot more of Wei Ying than Lan Zhan is used to seeing. He supposes that, technically, Wei Ying is dressed. It’s a bare technicality, since one of Wei Ying’s hands has rucked up his black tank top practically to his collarbone, showing a long expanse of abdomen and one nipple. Sweat beads on his sternum, catching the light like jewels. His other hand is--Lan Zhan feels his eyes widen, as though unable to look away from a train wreck--on his hip, one thumb tugging down the waistband of a pair of red briefs. Wei Ying is biting his lower lip and looking directly into the camera, sultry, his eyes dark and inviting. His erection is obvious, outlined against the red of the briefs and framed carefully with the hand on his hip. Lan Zhan’s brain goes wildly, screamingly blank.

Or: Lan Zhan accidentally finds his best friend's OnlyFans account and has an ongoing emotional crisis.

love, in fire and blood by cicer | rated E | 360K words | i actually haven't finished this one since i was reading it when it was a WIP, i need to reread it and catch up fjdskl;fjsd, but i love it very much!!!!!! oh my god he wanted to look nice for his husband..... 🙃 [screams with mouth closed]

"You want Wen Ruohan dead," the Patriarch continued idly. "You want his corpse puppets eliminated. You want his halls burned to the ground and his soldiers disemboweled and begging for mercy. Have I about covered it?"

He gave another knife-edged smile.

"But what will you give me in return?"

"We would be willing to offer quite a bit in return for Wen Ruohan's defeat," Lan Xichen admitted. "But I'm afraid we don't know what an immortal such as yourself desires. Please advise us."

The Patriarch waved at hand at the front of the tent. "I want Second Young Master Lan."

(In which the Sunshot Campaign ends through an arranged marriage to the Yiling Patriarch, and Lan Wangji suffers the mortifying ordeal of falling in love with his own husband.)

how to fall in love with a catfish: a guide by wei wuxian (disaster rat) by bwyn & Yuisaki | rated T | 55K words

A new plan hatches in Wei Wuxian’s head. If this nocturnal, bottom-feeding, slimy, invasive mudcat posing as a beautiful actor thinks he can sway Wei Wuxian with animal pictures and a sob story and an unbelievably stilted way of texting with still no dick pictures in the first five minutes of conversation, he has another thing coming. Wei Wuxian’s got it, alright, he has this in the fucking bag.

Wei Wuxian plots to expose a catfish using strategic memes and turtle pictures while wiggling his way out of family dinner. Lan Wangji just wants companions.

there’s no promised goodbye here by Yuisaki | rated T | 54K words

Jiang Cheng stares at him. “Didn’t you say you broke up five months ago?”

“Yeah.”

“So why do you have a picture of you two kissing taped to your fridge?”

“Because we’re too broke for magnets,” Wei Wuxian explains, then considers that statement. “Well, I’m too broke for magnets. Lan Zhan probably refuses to buy them because he’s trying to have lofty ideas about the moral failings of materialism.”

Wei Wuxian navigates the trials of living with his ex-boyfriend in apartment 1301.

paint smears on sunny days by SnowshadowAO3 | rated E | 54K words

To say that he runs to his car would be incorrect, as he is a Lan, and running is both undignified and unnecessary unless in immediate danger. Nor does he slam his key into the ignition, or aggressively swerve around the cars on the freeway, or have a mild panic attack at the fact he is picking A-Yuan up late from school for the first time ever.

He comes close, though.

By the time he arrives, it’s 4:35PM, and he has imagined about fifty different worse-case scenarios. The door is partly open when he gets to it, a messy label of 104B—Art Room scrawled with chalk on a placard next to the faded wood. As he opens it fully, he expects to see a wailing, terrified child, or perhaps a scene of utter misery and betrayal.

What he finds is his son, hands covered in paint, being sung to by a beautiful, dark-haired stranger.

“Ducks live in the pond, yellow ducks, happy ducks!”

Lan Wangji stops in his tracks.

(Or: Falling in love with your son’s art teacher, in five parts)

a paper friend by sunzu | rated G | 5K words

Lan Wangji finds a paperman far from its body and helps get it home.

-Or-

Lan Wangji unknowingly meets Wei Wuxian for the first time.

All Caught Up by brooklinegirl | rated E | 37K words

"Betrothed," Wei Ying says indignantly.

Lan Wangji can't stop his gaze from darting up to him. Wei Ying understands. Wei Ying is looking at him, wide-eyed and upset on his behalf.

"And you don't even like her," Wei Ying says.

"I don't even know her," Lan Wangji says quietly.

"But even if you did—" Wei Ying starts.

"I wouldn't want this," Lan Wangji finishes.

Lead Me On Through by mrsronweasley | rated E | 55K words | oh look another canon-era practice kissing fic fjdskfl;ds

"Who do you think your betrothed is?" Wei Wuxian asks, sprawling out in front of Lan Zhan and enjoying the prim thinning of his lips at the question. He shouldn't be sprawling—they're in the library, for one, and Lan Zhan is studying, for another—but he can't help himself. Wei Wuxian is a sprawler.

"I do not believe this to be of importance," Lan Zhan responds, without turning his gaze away from his book.

"What!" Wei Wuxian sits up. "How can you say that? Of course it's important! This is the person you'll be with for the rest of your life, Lan Zhan."

I Started From the Bottom/And Now I'm Rich by x_los | rated E | 58K words | ok so i know that in my spiel above i said to mind the tags, etc., but actually pay no mind to the first two relationship tags for this fic. i PROMISE that this isn't that sort of dead dove fic fjdksl;fjs;lifkj. i. it. it's wangxian. don't sweat it. don't even trip. just—this fic fucking rules. it's completely insane and it slaps. wei ying is a girlboss and a bitch and i like her So Much

“First, you get the money. Then you get the power, respect - hos come last.”

Wen Qing traps Wei Wuxian in the Demon Slaughtering Cave, but Wei Wuxian isn’t interested in being the beneficiary of the Wen Remnants’ noble sacrifice. His efforts to free himself accidentally send him back to the beginning of the Sunshot Campaign. Coreless but armed with demonic cultivation, knowledge of the future and his wits, Wei Wuxian takes advantage of this opportunity to come out on top of both the war and its aftermath—before either has a chance to happen—by marrying and swiftly burying the cultivation world’s worst men.

Lan Wangji is confused, hurt, and uncomfortably aroused by Wei Wuxian’s improbably elaborate series of Sect-themed bridal negligees.

rather cruelly used and rather reserved by x_los | rated M | 14K words

In the month between Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian leaving Yi City and their attending the cultivation conference in Lanling, Wei Wuxian discovers a locked room in the Jingshi. It is a mystery that clever and curious Wei Wuxian is doing everything in his power to avoid solving.

But the rose was awake all night for your sake/Knowing your promise to me by x_los | rated E | 8K words | resentment tenties~

The resentful energy occupying Wei Wuxian's body like an enemy army is very interested in giving him Lan Wangji, tied up with a bow.

Wei Wuxian is hoping that Lan Wangji (who is far too noble and very keen to save Wei Wuxian's misguided soul) doesn't find out about any aspect of that.

Mo Money, Mo Problems by x_los | rated M | 3K words

After the Mo family perishes in distressing and mysterious circumstances, Wei Wuxian, still reeling from his reincarnation, tries to dip back into their manor for a little travelling money. (Forward planning! What a concept!) Lan Wangji catches him immediately, and is highly unimpressed (read: furious) with Wei Wuxian’s decision to run away from him in the first place.

Standing Engagement by x_los | rated M | 18K words

Lan Wangji believes he and Wei Wuxian are essentially engaged. While they search for his missing betrothed, he accidentally reveals as much to Jiang Wanyin. Now everyone in the cultivation world knows about the imminent marriage, except for Wei Wuxian himself.

Coming Back to Yourself by acernor | rated E | 22K words | genital swapping for fun and nonprofit!

Lan Wangji gets cursed with a ~woman's body~ and has to orgasm to go back. Since he's 1) a virgin 2) super repressed and 3) SUPER gay, he has no idea what to do.

If only he had a super nosy friend who's read lots of erotic novels who could help him figure out what to do... hm...

Save a Sword by etymologyplayground | rated E | 5K words | a fic inspired by the above fic!

Lan WangJi presses a kiss into his throat, which draws a shivering whine from him. "Like this," he agrees, his voice so low. Then he slides one warm elegant hand down Wei WuXian's chest to his belly, and then to his — to his —

fan ending for acernor's fabulous masterpiece "coming back to yourself" because i'm a huge goofball and that fic fucks

Our Eyes on the Road by etymologyplayground | rated E | 23K words | brought to you by lore (the author) and Orville Peck's hit song Drive Me, Crazy

Lan Zhan is silent for a long moment, and the van's speakers quietly pipe the second song on the album into the empty space between them. Then Lan Zhan shifts his hand a little on Wei Ying's leg, presses his fingers once into the meat of his thigh. "Alright," he says.

"Alright," Wei Ying echoes in a wheeze.

"Is that better?" Lan Zhan checks, because he is a good boy. Then he spreads his fingers out a little wider, because he is evil and must be stopped.

Lan Zhan is driving to Chicago. Wei Ying tags along.

Worship you till morning comes by feyburner | rated E | 7K words

A meet-cute, a first date, a sleepover.

Let's take a ride round the curves of desire by feyburner | rated E | 6K words | yeah........... uhh, yeah.

Wei Ying was sprawled on the floor in front of the oscillating fan when Lan Zhan got home from work.

The Roots Grow Riotous by hansbekhart | rated E | 105K words | a beautifully crafted, emotionally harrowing fic. i should warn you (since it's not quite tagged as such) that while wangxian is endgame, the overall story doesn't have the sort of happily-ever-after ending you might expect. i’ve seen it described as open-ended but hopeful and cathartic, which i find to be a pretty accurate assessment

Sometimes Lan Zhan doesn’t work through lunch. Sometimes he makes conversation with coworkers in the halls. Sometimes he goes home instead of spending the last hour trawling through Grindr. But mostly, that’s exactly what he does. The sameness is comforting. His life spools out in easily measured increments: capsule collections, yards of hand dyed textiles, ninety day lead times, sell through figures, cost of goods sold.

Every date in manufacturing can be calculated backwards and forward from a single horizon point: the date that the goods must arrive into the country where they'll be sold. Other than that, nothing else really matters.

总有一天; a place to hide (can’t find one near) by yiqie | rated E | 76K words | i can't recall a fic ever affecting me as much as this one did. one of the best stories i've ever read. so, so, so crushingly beautiful. it's viscerally distressing/upsetting at times, especially at the start, so please heed the tags and author's note (they provide a way to skip the beginning scene if needed)!

That’s just the thing, isn’t it? Wei Ying feels nothing. He doesn’t feel anything, and this emptiness should scare him. He knows he should be scared. He wants to be scared. He isn’t. Fear itself is never scary; fear is just a response. It means that your body wants you alive. It’s the absence of terror that scares him.

请兔子吃晚饭; treating a bunny to dinner by yiqie | rated T | 3K words | read this one to recover from the above fic

It’s not really about the food. Being able to share it in the same space is its own kind of magic.

爱不释手; never let me go by yiqie | rated E | 69K words | and then read this one to feel harrowed again, this time in canon-verse!

Wei Wuxian has certainly hoped so ardently in his two lifetimes, for so many different things, in so many different ways, that he could have summoned the demon to his front door with his bare hands. His eyes wander to Lan Zhan, settle on the back of his head, the blue-black curtain of his hair. Oh, how he has hoped.

在此恭迎夷陵老祖; to yiling laozu, the great and venerable by yiqie | rated M | 7K words | read this one to recover from the above fic (this time in canon-verse)

“You don’t know? In Yiling, there’s a tree at the edge of town, one that stands at the fringes of where the city ends and the Burial Mounds begin, called the Lover’s Tree. They say if you write a letter and nail it to its branches, Yiling Laozu will receive it, and he’ll reply.”

你的阳光下; wanna hide in your light by yiqie | rated T | 2K words | :')

Lan Zhan shuts off the water before it can start getting cold, because Wei Ying still needs to take one. Any other day, Wei Ying would have slunk in, pretending to be annoyed that Lan Zhan started without him, and neither of them would have want for hot water, but Wei Ying is still asleep.

From my heart's ground. by orange_crushed | rated E | 38K words | get (orange) CRUSHED!!!!!!!

After a while he can feel a palm against his face, gentle fingers soft and soothing. It’s not real, not exactly: he can tell the difference between a ghost’s touch and a living person’s, between a spirit-vision and an overactive imagination. His education has been thorough. But the beating has also been thorough, so for now he forgets what he knows and leans into it, into the hand cupping his cheek. It’s soft and dry as those forgotten petals, as the touch of a pillow. He can smell wildflowers, can taste blood and dirt. My baby, his mother says, and he closes his eyes. My treasure. He barely remembers the sound of her voice, but the feeling of it is just the same. Just the same as ever.

[In which Lan Wangji loses almost everything, plants a garden, and grows a second chance.]

Pentimento. by orange_crushed | rated E | 73K words | this fic briefly gave me a serious case of career envy :/ ......but seriously, this is an absolute must-read!!!

When Wangji was eighteen he’d walked into the first class of his fall semester painting module and there’d been a boy in a hilariously ugly floppy knit hat sitting cross-legged on the floor at the front of the room. He’d had a sheet of canvas paper taped to his board and his board clamped between his legs and a tackle box of brushes and tubes—a real fishing tackle box, with a fish-shaped logo on it that said BASS, not one of the nice art supply storage boxes they sold in the campus bookstore, like the one Wangji was carrying—open beside him. Everyone else had settled into the rows of stools and easels, but that boy had stayed on the floor for the whole two hour and thirty minute studio. Wangji had looked at him and thought, that idiot’s back is going to hurt.

[Former best friends Lan Wangji, paintings conservator, and Wei Wuxian, art handler, meet again and realize... neither of them were actually in unrequited love.]

Many happy returns. by orange_crushed | rated E | 25K words

His fingers are still clasped between Wangji's. In the mirror Wangji watches him tuck his coat between his thighs so that he can fuss with the tucked-in hem of his shirt, tousle up the side of his hair, all one-handed. "I hope what I'm wearing is okay."

"It's good," Wangji says. "You look good."

"I guess I must," Wei Ying says, and then he smiles and bites his teeth into his bottom lip for a second, devastatingly, and before Wangji can drop dead the doors to the elevator slide open, and the hostess station appears.

[In which lonely businessman Lan Wangji meets the right wrong person and changes the course of his life.]

The dreamers. by orange_crushed | rated E | 17K words

“Stop mothering me,” Wei Ying protests. “Why don’t you ever listen?” He scowls at Wangji, but then the lure of the clean water is too much; he sits grumbling and strips off his vambraces and loosens the collar of his robes and wipes himself down in the steam. Wangji sits on a stool and watches him, and after a while Wei Ying slaps the rag into the bowl and glares back. “Are you going to sit and stare the whole time?” he demands. “You want to see me strip naked and give my filthy evil self a good scrubbing, huh?”

Yes, Wangji thinks.

[This is a story about a horrible war and a beautiful dream; about grabbing happiness where you can find it, and not letting go.]

mercy, tear it down. by orange_crushed | rated E | 31K words

“You want me to call you good?” Wangji says. “To make you feel good?” Wei Ying makes a wretched, soft, surprised sound in the back of his throat. “Then will you be good?”

“Uh,” Wei Ying says. His lashes flick down again, nervously. “Good how?”

Wangji hasn’t quite thought that far ahead.

Kingfisher Feathers by Anonymous | rated E | 83K words | WIP (7/10 chapters, last updated 4/13/21) | omg omegaverse!!!! @/ this anon author... keep up the great work! also i have feelings for u

With an almost trance-like detachment, Wei Wuxian touched his own neck, his fingers skimming over the fresh mark. The bite wound had stopped bleeding, although he had no doubts it would open again if agitated.

Bonded.

He was bonded for life.

"Shit," he whispered. He looked over at the sleeping form of Lan Wangji—the Second Prince of Gusu and, until his brother was found, the sole heir to the throne. "Oh, shit. Lan Qiren is going to kill me."

----------

Lan Wangji goes into a fevered rut and accidentally bonds with Wei Wuxian. When they next meet, he remembers none of it, and Wei Wuxian is determined to keep the bond a secret—even when he's sent to the Cloud Recesses to be a consort in Lan Wangji's harem.

(tl;dr concubine!wwx is already married to emperor!lwj, who has no idea. drama ensues.)

Pull out game weak by 74243 | rated E | 23K words | featuring the hottest meanest dom top lesbian lwj of your wildest dreams. i hope ao3 user 74243 is having an amazing day

Wei Ying swipes right.

Extra Time by Anonymous | rated E | 28K words | fic inspired by the above fic! seriously good

How Wei Ying learned to stop worrying and love the strap (an AU of 74243's Pull out game weak)

Superfan by 74243 | rated E | 19K words | ao3 user 74243 writing banger after banger as per usual

“I’m not going to apologize for my job,” Wei Ying said, “so if you want to give me some kind of lecture--”

“No,” Lan Zhan said. “You misunderstood. I am...” she paused, as if considering the best way to put it. “I’m a fan.”

Spit in my mouth, look in my eyes by 74243 | rated E | 7K works | i'm just going to list all of ao3 user 74243's fics, ok? that's what's gonna happen here

Wei Wuxian was a little surprised herself, although she felt bad for being surprised. Of course it didn’t really mean anything about you, how you presented, Wei Wuxian knew that better than anyone, but all the same it was hard to reconcile Lan Zhan as an omega.

(wwx makes an error of judgment)

If the shoe fits by 74243 | rated E | 8K words

Wei Ying loses a bet.

the And they were roommates series by 74243 | rated E | 19K words total

That was the other thing, when Wei Ying had moved in. She’d scented Lan Zhan immediately, the sandalwood and smoke rising off her, almost before she’d taken in Lan Zhan’s straight posture, her narrowed eyes. She’d known that Lan Zhan could tell, too. At the end, when they’d talked about the rent and Lan Zhan’s nearly finished PhD and Wei Ying’s working hours, Wei Ying had said, casual and effortless, “And you don’t mind that I’m an omega.”

“No,” Lan Zhan said.

Chef's kiss by 74243 | rated E | 7K words

Wei Ying said, “You know, in some ways I’m kind of depressed. I took your biggest dick on my first try. Now I don’t have anything to build up to.”

“There are bigger ones available,” Lan Zhan said lazily. “I can pay for express shipping.”

(Lan Zhan works the late shift.)

Gold-palmed Warrior Quest! by 74243 | rated E | 13K words

When Lan Wangji suggested that they camp along the way to the Unclean Realm, rather than staying at inns, Wei Wuxian had been sceptical.

Dway! by 74243 | rated E | 6K words

“Hm,” Wei Ying said. “You like it rough, though, right? You seem like that kind of alpha.” When she saw Lan Zhan’s expression she raised an eyebrow. “What? Was I wrong? Are you tender and sweet? Do you cry?”

“You were not wrong,” Lan Zhan said. “I do not cry. Do you?”

tgif by 74243 | rated E | 17K words

Today Lan Zhan says that if Wei Ying cannot control her mouth then she will have to tape it shut.

On the ground by 74243 | rated E | 5K words

“I think you will like it,” Lan Zhan said.

Does your mother know by 74243 | rated E | 5K words | editing this rec list on a monday morning to add this brand new fic fresh off the presses. thank u ao3 user 74243 for feeding us so well 🙏

“Lan Zhan is such a well-behaved girl,” Madam Yu said.

all that and more by Euphorion | rated E | 20K words

Wei Wuxian locks his phone and puts it down, blinks at his ceiling, and picks it up again. The pictures are still there.

His first thought is that Lan Zhan meant them for someone else. That he just woke up at—he checks the timestamp—6:30 am on a Sunday and decided to go absolute full nuclear seduction option on some poor boy he met on Grindr, who would now be missing out on the best thing to ever happen to him because Wei Wuxian had a bad habit of distracting—of—oh.

Pieces of last night start to resurface and paste themselves together in his head. He winces.

The Golden Cutsleeve by syrus_jones | rated E | 77K words | of my faves, this is one of my favorite... faves. top faves. incredibly fun and silly and hot. just... oh my GOD, wei YING!

“I know! Why don’t you try it? Let me go and I’ll lend it to you!” Wei Wuxian bribed hysterically, desperate to escape from this encounter by any means necessary. And then, his eyes blew wide, realizing what he just said. ‘Wait— just what am I offering Lan Zhan?!’ he thought. How was he so stupid, how did he just offer that without thinking—

“You want me...to use it… after you?” Lan Zhan asked, his voice unusually faint.

~*~

Wei Wuxian's test of mysterious, literally magical sex toy goes awry when Lan Wangji finds him in the woods 'experimenting' with it and it ends up in Lan Wangji's possession.

Unfortunately, neither of them is aware that the toy is anchored to Wei Wuxian's body. Too bad Wei Wuxian invited him to try it.

Boy Trouble, We've Got Double by saltyfeathers | rated E | 60K words | !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! this is a really good fic

Lan Zhan stands there in his immaculate, cloud-patterned Lan robes, watching him calmly, one fist tucked up against his back. “I am betrothed.”

Wei Wuxian blinks. “Are you…” He tries to laugh. Again, it sounds inhuman. “Is this about last night? Are you mad at me? I only remember some of it, Lan Zhan. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I’m sure whatever I did I was just—” He gestures uselessly. He remembers being warm in Lan Zhan’s lap. He remembers fitting snugly in Lan Zhan’s lap. Wrapping his arms around Lan Zhan’s neck. Nosing at his jaw. “…playing around.”

“This has nothing to do with you, Wei Wuxian.”

none in the forest so bright as these by saltyfeathers | rated E | 6K words

Wei Wuxian puts a hand to his head, brain lost in fog. “Lan Zhan,” he pants. “Why are we here? Are we on a hunt?”

As Lan Zhan tries to remember, his brow furrows. He shakes his head slightly. “I don’t know.”

“This is bad,” Wei Wuxian says. When Lan Zhan cups his cheek again, sparks burst behind Wei Wuxian’s eyes. “Or maybe it’s not,” he says unthinkingly. Sighs, almost. Lan Zhan looks at his own arm like it's betrayed him. Wei Wuxian closes his eyes and presses his face into Lan Zhan’s palm. “Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,” he murmurs. “What’s happening to us?”

out in the garden, there’s things you hid away by saltyfeathers | rated E | 121K words | oww oww oww 😣😣😣💘

There is a man with empty eye sockets and tears of fire in Wei Wuxian’s dreams. Tendrils of smoke curl around him in sleep, pressing at his most vulnerable spots, seeking entrance, slipping between his ribs.

When he ignores Lan Zhan's offers of help, he declines rapidly. He will die. Or, he should. Anyone else would.

Instead, he flees. And transforms.

crawling through your door by saltyfeathers | rated E | 12K words

Lan Wangji kisses him. When he pulls away, he speaks into the silence between them, because when he is with Wei Ying, he so rarely considers. “Why don’t you touch me anymore?”

Lan Zhan Works for the Historical Society by saltyfeathers | rated E | 7K words | some real real good lesbian action up in here

Pretty Lan Zhan. Beautiful Lan Zhan. Ice queen Lan Zhan. So intimidating and femme and coldly polite in public, yet meaner than a man in the bedroom. Wei Ying has slept with men before and none of them were mean-nice to her like Lan Zhan.

threadfic by saltyfeathers | not rated (each chapter rated/tagged individually) | 34K+ words | WIP (11/? chapters, last updated 3/15/21), but it’s a collection of stand-alone oneshots

semi cleaned-up wangxian twitter threadfic.

【已經打動我的心】So Sing To Me All Night by aroceu | rated T | 10K words | arrow writes wei ying so exquisitely well. i was weepy the whole time read this fic. for the best experience, i recommend following along with the accompanying spotify playlist.

No one listens to the radio in this day and age, but somehow from a bunch of left clicking and right clicking, through Facebook and Twitter and Youtube, Wei Ying finds himself on the WQHS homepage—the UPenn student radio station, promising eclectic tastes from a variety of hosts. Wei Ying can't remember giving a shit about his old college's student radio before he dropped out, but it's eleven at night and he has nothing else better to do. He clicks on the button that says Listen Here! and waits to be impressed.

get wild by aroceu | rated E | 24K words | 🔥🏀🔥 BASKETBALL FIC 🔥🏀🔥

He was looking for a specific reaction—to get Lan Zhan to lash out. All hard edges and demanding, the same way during the first scrim, Lan Zhan's dark voice had made him loose and obedient, itching to both rebel and obey at the same time.

It's them, whatever it is, but it doesn't belong on the basketball court.

Wei Ying didn't expect to enter a weird... something-with-benefits-plus-power-play with the captain of the Gusu basketball team. He's not sure if it's worth it.

without a warning by aroceu | rated T | 10K words | 🥺️🥺️🥺️

“Blegh,” Wei Ying says. “I hate being sick, Lan Zhan… my throat is so sore… why do I talk so much?”

“Stop talking then,” Lan Zhan says.

“You don’t mean that,” Wei Ying says, in his half-asleep daze. “I know you’ll never admit it, Lan Zhan, but you like it when I talk.”

your honor i’m a freak bitch by aroceu | rated E | 6K words

Wei Ying gestures to his outfit. His hands are buried deep within the hoodie; he’s mostly gesturing with the sleeves. “Well, it works with the whole get up, you see?”

“The…” Lan Zhan looks down at where his fingers are toying with the top of Wei Ying’s thigh highs. Wei Ying pretends he is not shivering. “…skirt. And these stockings.”

“Thigh highs, Lan Zhan!” Wei Ying says, batting at him with the end of a sleeve.

Play It By Ear by aroceu | rated T | 7K words | MY HEART !!!

In the virtual airplane flying over the island, appropriately called Yiling, Lan Zhan watches as bits and pieces of the island load in. There are many Statues of David, a gothic teacup ride, and, from what Lan Zhan can see, an entire field of spoiled turnips.

hanguang-jun @/hanguangjun Do you need turnips to sell?

timmy and tommy in a trenchcoat @/yilinglaozu oh! no haha! 😅 those are from a while ago but my brother insists i keep them there

for the ~aesthetic~

the key that our souls were singing by aroceu | rated M | 5K words

“I haven’t seen you since—Gusu, was it?” Wei Ying says. “Oh my god, it’s been so long. I didn’t even know you were LGBT! Unless you’re here as an ally, which is also totally cool—”

“No, I.” Lan Zhan coughs. Her throat feels dry. “I am a lesbian.”

abort retry fail by aroceu | rated E | 21K words

Lan Wangji must miss his husband over this amnesiac of a man Wei Wuxian has turned into. Well, Wei Wuxian will show him! He'll be even better—or at least, try to be just as good of a husband as he would be, without his memory loss.

Blackout If You Were Mine by aroceu | rated E | 9K words

Wei Ying likes to wear chokers a lot. So Lan Zhan buys some for him. Then, testing their limits, collars.

Wei Ying wears those, too.

Or, the one where Wei Ying and Lan Zhan accidentally stumble into a BDSM relationship.

eleven thousand meters & airborne by aroceu | rated E | 5K words | 😎✈️😎

Lan Zhan and Wei Ying join the mile high club.

many fox given by defractum | rated E | 24K words | can't go wrong with foxxian and dragonji content 🦊🐉

Lan Zhan is glaring at him. That's probably fair.

The last time they'd seen each other, Wei Ying had been digging through Lan Zhan's garbage. They'd made eye contact over the shredded bags, the week's trash scattered around him like stinky, oversized Lego.

Lan Zhan's eyes had been wide with horror, and Wei Ying's had been equally wide with feigned innocence. He'd reached out slowly, maintaining the eye contact, and then flipped over the food waste bin full of onion peel and carrot skin as a distraction and slunk off into the night. Probably not his finest moment.

Modern AU dragon!LWJ meets fox!WWX.

the tamed by defractum | rated E | 12K words

If the Second Jade of Lan insists on bringing the Yiling Patriarch as his guest to the next Cultivation Conference, he must first demonstrate a control over the Yiling Patriarch and his unnatural abilities.

The letter lies on their desk for days.

Post-canon, Wei Ying is invited, sort of, to a Discussion Conference.

us in a king-size, keep it a secret (say i'm your queen, i don't wanna leave this) by matcha_ado | rated E | 3K words

People always said Wei Ying was a royal pain in the ass. They were absolutely right, of course, just not in the way they thought.

it is wednesday my dudes by jelenedra | rated M | 4K words

Wednesday nights at Cloud Recesses strip club are always a little weird, but usually they're not this horny. Whatever Wei Ying and Lan Zhan get up to, Mianmian is not going to be the one to clean it up.

i'm the one for your fire by occultings | rated E | 43K words | cherry magic au! love it

Wei Ying, virgin and noted heterosexual, gets hit with a curse of an unusual nature on his 30th birthday — through physical contact, he can read the minds of others around him.

Enter Lan Zhan, hot former rival and current coworker, whose true thoughts about Wei Ying are nothing like he expects. (A loose Cherry Magic AU)

a thousand teeth, yours among them by darkredloveknot | rated E | 11K words

A one night stand in the time of zombies.

hoe to housewife pipeline by lanzhancore | rated E | 5K words

“You type fast,” Wei Ying murmurs, making a futile attempt at conversation while he waits for him to be done with… whatever. “Not to be pushy, but do you plan on fucking my ass anytime soon?”

or: wei ying has been thirsting after lan zhan for three slutty slutty years

can you feel it by lanzhancore | rated E | an instant classic

“What’s wrong?” Wei Ying asks finally, eyebrows drawn together. “Is everything okay?”

Thumbs stroking circles into his skin as if to comfort him, Lan Zhan says, “Don’t panic.”

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, sitting up on his elbows. “What did you do to my ass?”

“Nothing,” Lan Zhan says, convincing nobody. “But we need to go to the hospital.”

or: wei ying really should have sprung for the model with the flared base. he learns this lesson the hard way.

because you're mine (i walk the line) by lanzhancore | rated E | 8K words

Wei Ying is freshly cream-pied and still trying to remember where his legs are when Lan Zhan outlaws masturbation.

or: wei ying fucks around and finds out

payload by lanzhancore | rated M | 3K words | babysitter wwx + dilfji, what more could you need

Wei Ying has a whole five hours and thirty-six minutes to calm down but when he hears Lan Zhan’s key turning in the front door lock later that evening he has to cling to the couch cushions to keep from marching into the laundry room to retrieve the briefs so he can wave them in Lan Zhan’s face and demand to know who owns them.

or: lan zhan's self-restraint is not limitless

the to the brim series by verseau | rated E | 14K words total

Wei Ying wants to rob him, but it wouldn’t even be satisfying, since this guy is just—giving away money. With his nice fingers. Maybe Wei Ying will just bite his fingers, and that will give the same endorphin rush as robbing him. / a day told across five parts.

get that message home by verseau | rated G | 2K words | ohhhhhhhhh myyyyy godddddd 😭

Sizhui's father cannot haggle. It is a shame on Sizhui’s honor to have such an honest father.

Author's note [i'm including it here because it's golden]:

there is a scene in arrested development where lucille, who is on the opposite spectrum of humanity as lan zhan, asks, "it's a banana, michael. how much could one cost? ten dollars?" there are no bananas in this story.

dreaming and getting a glimmer by verseau | rated E | 27K words | a particular favorite of mine 🔥🍆💦🕳🔥

Wei Ying discovers himself.

trust your fingertips by plonk | not rated (but really rated E) | 15K word | 🥵️🥵️🥵️🥵️🥵️ plonk you’ve done it again!

Lan Wangji must suppress a shiver at every brush and press of Wei Wuxian’s fingers.

Under different circumstances - less public ones - he would welcome touch, given that his body is in such an aroused state.

Alas, his circumstances are these: sitting quietly while Wei Wuxian, the famous (infamous) Doctor of Yunmeng, digs his fingertips into Lan Wangji’s shoulders and chest and sides and hums thoughtfully.

Doctor, Doctor by YunmengLotus | rated E | 4K words | mmmmhmm!

Wei Ying needs to get a prostate exam. How ever will he deal when the world's hottest doctor walks through the exam room door and tells him to bend over?

TAKOYAKI by ariskamalt | rated E | 3K words | lan zhan gets jealous of his own damn appendages. meanwhile, wei ying is just having a good time.

Lan Zhan…cannot always feel or tell what his tentacles will do.

His free hand curls into a fist. Underneath his skin, the tentacles give a little squirm, as if aware of the challenge he has just issued them. No touching Wei Ying unless he says so, because he wants to touch Wei Ying first. They squirm again, as if to say, Tentacles: 1, Lan Zhan: 0.

That will just have to be remedied.

Or, as phnelt first described: Tentacle-ji with the semi autonomous tentacles getting jealous of his tenties for touching Wei Ying in places he hasn't yet

Outage by SugarMilkTea | rated E | 3K words | [cough] 😳😳😳

The power goes out in Lan Zhan and Wei Ying's rural home in the countryside. Lan Zhan takes advantage of the darkness to give in to one of his baser urges, and Wei Ying's first rural power outage experience is about to get a lot more interesting.

big hands (i know you’re the one) by martyrsdaughter | rated E | 8K words | NICE. 🔥🔥🔥

“Not a big talker, hm?” Wei Ying tilts his head to one side. “That’s okay, I’ve been told I’m a good enough conversationalist for three. My tongue is multi-talented and—”

He has just enough time to feel her palm on the back of his neck and think, oh, her hands are so big, before his words are being stolen into her mouth.

darling, am i a chore? by martyrsdaughter | rated E | 7K words

“Are you done playing around?”

Knowing that’s not what either of them actually wants, Wei Wuxian reaches up to tickle under Lan Wangji’s chin. Soft little scritches, coaxing motions—Lan Wangji is weak to all of them.

“You know what I want,” Wei Wuxian purrs, reaching up on his tiptoes to throw his arms over Lan Wangji’s shoulders. “Call me gege, won’t you? Call me and I’ll stop.”

(or: five times Lan Wangji paid special attention to Wei Wuxian’s interest in being his gege.)

put him on his knees, give him something to believe in by dustyloves | rated E | 2K words | if the title is quoting WAP, then you should know by now it’s gonna be some of that good filth

The next time Wei Ying kisses him, Lan Zhan is careful again. Wei Ying seems determined to make it very difficult.

the hard way by dustyloves | rated E | 9K words

"Anyway, you make it sound like something lewd is going on," Wei Ying complains. "It's all totally above board. She's just being a nice person. It's just one kind alpha grad student offering one room of her huge house to one beta undergrad in need, what could be more appropriate than that?"

// Wei Ying makes a mistake and finds out the hard way.

Exhibition by sevenless | rated E | 5K words

“Oh?” Wei Wuxian raises an eyebrow. “The forbidden section, Lan Zhan?”

“Mn.”

“You’re not afraid of being heard?” Wei Wuxian thinks aloud. A smirk creeps onto his face, eyes glinting. “Or could it be that Lan-er-gongzi actually wants to be heard? Seen? Caught?” He skips in front of him, blocking his way. "Disciplined?”

Lan Wangji’s ears, as always, betray him.

a history of the body by northofallmusic | rated E | 14K words

Wei Ying's body hurts sometimes; she lets Lan Zhan help her.

A fic about the complicated nature of having a body, and also the versatility of sex toys.

(our friendship) up against the ropes by daltoneering | rated E | 36K words

The reboot completes, and Wei Ying’s brain smashes this information together into two mind-shattering thoughts. Number one, he knew very well already, and is now further seared by defined muscles and a mouth-watering tattoo into his every waking moment: Lan Zhan is the hottest fucking person on the planet.

Number two: that guy wasn’t visiting Lan Zhan’s neighbour, he was visiting Lan Zhan, which means:

Lan Zhan fucks. Lan Zhan fucks. Lan Zhan fucks.

;

Lan Zhan has been Wei Ying's best friend for years. Literally, years. How did he not already know? How has he missed this most important of facts? And more importantly, how is he ever going to get over it?

watching my heart go round by typefortydeductions | rated E | 38K+ words | WIP (2/4 chapters, last updated 5/2/21) | lan zhan i love you baby 💞

Lan Zhan falls apart. As it turns out, that's not the end.

oh man this list is so long sd;jfkdsjfhhh

yati, i hope you find some stuff in this pile here that you’ll enjoy! it's not an exhaustive list, so check out the authors’ other works and bookmarks for more goods, if you feel so inclined 😙💕

#darlingbenny #mdzs #fic rec #nsfw!

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just-an-angel-and-his-demon · 4 years

Text

Aziraphale had invented fanfiction. He’d been writing little snippets of things based off of his favorite books ever since humans first started writing their stories down. There was once that he spent an entire century compiling all of Emily Dickenson’s poems to loop them together through a story. He never shared that with anyone. Mostly because at the time no one else was doing anything like that. They were too busy making original works. And of course, Aziraphale could have passed it off as completely his own. He’d only written the novel based on the poems. He didn’t have to tell anyone that he’d used her poems to come up with it. But he felt wrong not claiming that. So he’d kept it hidden.

One can only imagine his excitement when websites like fanfiction.net began to appear. He wasn’t weird or alone. There were others who were spending their time writing things based off of things they loved. It could be anything he’d discovered. There were people writing things based on celebrities, books, movies, anything. He even found some that were a combination of real people and fictional characters.

He found himself, however, quite alone in the so-called fandoms that he wrote for. He found himself perfectly content with that. If they didn’t want to appreciate the books he liked, that was on them. It was a shame, but he wasn’t going to be able to change their minds.

Through the years, Crowley could tell that it was getting down on Aziraphale. Even in the community of other people who were busy writing and reading things based off of other things, Aziraphale was still alone. Aziraphale always tried to write for the things that he saw were popular, but he could never get into the media. It just was not his thing.

One night after hours of refreshing Ao3 on repeat, Aziraphale had had it.

“What is the point of this if no one is going to read it?” Aziraphale asked. “I have more practice at writing than anyone on this bloody website. I’ve been doing this before anyone else started doing it. This is a waste of my time.” Aziraphale closed the laptop lid, put it on his night stand, and crossed his arms.

“Why does it all of a sudden mean so much to you to have an audience?” Crowley asked. “You’ve never cared about that before.” Aziraphale sighed.

“I honestly have no idea,” he admitted. “I am an angel,” he shook his head. “I do so much for the world that this little thing shouldn’t matter. It’s selfish, I know.” Crowley shook his head.

“I don’t think it’s selfish,” he replied. He pulled Aziraphale into a hug. “You work hard,” Crowley said. “You deserve just a little bit of recognition. Even if it is for this thing that you do that feels stupid to you. I don’t think it’s stupid.” Aziraphale pulled away.

“You don’t?” Crowley shook his head and kissed the angel.

“I don’t. I promise.”

***

Later that night, after Aziraphale had fallen asleep, Crowley crept out of bed and headed for the living room. He opened up his own laptop and pulled up this Ao3 website. By a miracle, he was able to create his account right away. He was careful to pick a username that Aziraphale would not recognize as Crowley.

He then looked up Aziraphale’s username and clicked on the oldest story. From there, he worked his way forward, leaving kudos and comments on every single one of the works.

Wow! I didn’t know anyone wrote for this! I’ve been looking for this!

I really needed this.

I didn’t know how much I needed this until I had it.

Among other things, including a full essay on one of them dissecting exactly how much he loved that particular one.

He wasn’t exactly lying when he said these things. He did love Aziraphale’s writing. He’d always been supportive of it because he knew it meant a lot to the angel. Where the “lying” part came in was when he started talking about the characters specifically. Crowley wasn’t familiar with any of the books that Aziraphale had written about. He hadn’t even heard of half of them. He assumed that they were all older books. Aziraphale had never really liked the more modern way of storytelling, favoring the language of the past. This showed up in his writing as well. So when he made comments such as “[Character] was so in character and I could really tell you spent a lot of time on characterization,” he really didn’t mean it. Maybe it was true. Chances were it was true, but Crowley was only doing it to make Aziraphale feel better about his writing.

He spent all night doing this. Demons didn’t need sleep, so it was no trouble. Crowley quite enjoyed sleep, but he was willing to sacrifice it for his angel. Especially when Aziraphale was on the verge of quitting writing. He didn’t want that. He didn’t want that at all.

***

Crowley was in the middle of making breakfast when he heard Aziraphale stirring, finally awake. He knew that even though the angel had no hope of actually getting any attention at all on Ao3, he was still going to check it first thing. He heard something fall and Aziraphale crashing around the room.

“Crowley look!” Aziraphale said. He pulled up his inbox on Ao3 and showed that someone had left fifty comments, one for each of the fics that Aziraphale had felt were good enough to post. He had lots of others, but he wasn’t nearly as proud of them as he was the fifty.

Crowley did look. He didn’t want to let on to the angel that greencarlene was actually Crowley. He knew it would shatter Aziraphale to know that this mysterious stranger was none other than his own partner through eternity. It was much better that it was a stranger.

Aziraphale spent most of the morning gushing over the comments and reading them out loud to Crowley. Crowley faked enthusiasm as if he didn’t make the comments himself. Aziraphale would discuss with Crowley how to reply to the stranger, and Crowley gave his honest advice. That is, what he would have told Aziraphale if the person were an actual stranger.

Once he’d finished replying to all the comments, he got started on a new fic. Getting this rush of praise had given Aziraphale the will to write again. Crowley was glad to see it back. He hated the idea of Aziraphale giving up something that he loved ever so much just because no one was giving him any sort of feedback. Aziraphale posted the fic proudly, excited to see what this person’s response would be.

He spent the time after that refreshing the page. This time, it was with hope instead of despair. He didn’t want to run the risk of missing the second that the person replied. Crowley told Aziraphale that he was going out to set up a surprise to celebrate this mysterious stranger. The excuse was mostly to get himself away from Aziraphale in order to read the work and comment without Aziraphale becoming suspicious that it was Crowley who was leaving the comments. But he did think a little celebration was in order.

He drove himself to the park first. Give him somewhere he could read without anyone bothering him about it. He left a quick comment as to not be away for much longer than he needed to be. His phone buzzed with a text from Aziraphale.

Crowley! They replied again! Look!

With it, Aziraphale had sent a picture of his screen so Crowley could read the comment for himself.

That’s fantastic, my love, Crowley sent back.

Crowley found himself in a grocery store trying to figure out how to surprise Aziraphale with a proper celebration. He found where some roses were being sold and quickly grabbed the nicest bouquet he could find. He wandered up and down the aisles and tried to think. What is a good celebration? If it were for him, it would be alcohol. No doubt about it. The angel, however, was much classier than that. He loved drinking, but with something like this he wouldn’t want to get drunk for it.

Crowley’s eyes landed on a pouch of Aziraphale’s favorite cocoa mix. That is when he had it. Cocoa and crepes. It was perfect. He grabbed a number of the cocoa pouches and quickly went through the store picking up everything they would need for crepes.

Once he got back home, he forced Aziraphale back into their room so he would not see what Crowley was doing. After a few hours of work, Crowley was satisfied with what he had come up with.

He’d put the roses in a vase and that was now in the center of their table. He’d artfully placed crepes on plates and had set them across from each other at the table. The good plates that Aziraphale insisted on saving for a special occasion. Crowley put on a playlist of all of Aziraphale’s favorite music. Crowley wasn’t a huge fan of it himself, he prefered music from the 1970’s. But this wasn’t about Crowley. This was about celebrating Aziraphale’s first fan (who did happen to be Crowley but they weren’t going to talk about that). He called Aziraphale out.

Aziraphale gasped when he saw everything. He felt almost as if Crowley had gone above and beyond for this little celebration. He hummed along to the song that was playing (Handel’s “Messiah”) and sat at the table. He took a deep breath to take in all the smells of everything. He noticed his favorite mug was at the table. He took a sip from it. He closed his eyes as he was filled with the wonderful sensation that came with drinking his favorite cocoa.

“Crowley, you didn’t have to do this.” Aziraphale said, though he was very thankful that Crowley did. It had been a long time since they’d had crepes.

“Of course I did!” Came Crowley’s reply. “We’re celebrating!” Aziraphale smiled and took another sip of cocoa.

Once they’d both finished eating, Crowley put on their dance playlist. Of course there were a few songs that included the gavotte for Aziraphale’s sake, but most of it was more modern. Crowley had been teaching Aziraphale the ways of freestyle dancing that seemed popular. He was still learning to let go and allow himself to do that, but he was working on it for Crowley. Besides, he had to admit, it was quite fun to not have strict rules when it came to dancing.

Their evening slowed down and Crowley decided it was time for the last song of the night. Crowley decided that John Legend’s “All of Me” was the perfect way to end the night. Wrapped up in each other's arms, whispering sweet nothings and giggling with each other. Even when the song ended, they didn’t pull apart. They continued to sway in each other’s arms even though there was no music. It was, Aziraphale admitted, quite nice. He had never in his life felt so loved, or felt so much love rolling off of Crowley.

He couldn’t imagine spending this moment with anyone else. It was all just too perfect. Too perfect to be true. And he was an angel. He was supposed to know perfect.

Later that night, the two stumbled into bed and fell asleep quickly. They both loved this little activity that the humans did, so why wouldn’t they?

#aziracrow #aziraley #aziraphale #azirowley #crowley #good omens #good omens fandom #good omens fic #aziraphale and crowley #crowley and aziraphale

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imagitory · 5 years

Text

So I saw Endgame! [spoilers]

To save your feed from nasty spoilers, here's a cut!

Overall, this movie was half-epic awesome and half...well, not.

The Good!

+As always, it was so great to see all of our favorite Avengers interacting and working together, especially at the end. Nebula and Tony playing games in space -- Natasha's friendships with Steve and Clint -- Scott fawning over Steve -- Tony and Steve teaming up to get the tesseract and more of Hank Pym's formula -- Nebula connecting with her past self and Gamora -- PETER REUNUTING WITH HIS PAPA TONY -- these characters and their bonds are what make all of these movies. There are a few I feel that got a bit overlooked, but to be fair, there are so, so many that it's not hard to see why not all of them could be in the spotlight.

+All of the action was well-choreographed and executed. It never felt one-note and it never dragged, at least for me.

+STEVE USING MJOLNIR, HELLZ YES. I cheered like an idiot when that happened.

+Even though I saw it coming, Tony's sacrifice was still well-written and not only fit his character but also the story. RDJ couldn't have asked for a better exit from the Marvel film franchise.

+Scott's reappearance after five years was great too! His reunion with Cassie got me kind of emotional -- such a proud daddy!

+As much as I do have problems with Steve's ending (which I'll come back to), I liked that it saluted the Falcon taking over the mantle of Captain America as he does in the comics.

+That whole bit with all of the ladies charging in after Captain Marvel -- total girl power, man!

+Tony and his daughter Morgan's interactions made me laugh -- who knew Tony could be such a good daddy? I always support good daddies. (And "I love you 3000"? My heart.)

+Thanos accessing Nebula's memories and thoughts because the technology in both her past and future selves are on the same network was actually kind of clever, and I loved how Gamora decided to fight with future!Nebula for the hope that they could really be sisters like she claims.

+All of the comments about Steve's ass made me laugh so hard. Looks like it's canon now, guys: Tony has given Steve's ass and what flatters it notable attention.

+Hey, Carol. Nice haircut. ❤️

The Not-So-Good...

+I must admit, half the reason I dreaded seeing this movie as well as Infinity War was that I knew that any deaths in Infinity War would inevitably be completely undone in Endgame, effectively canceling out any fatal stakes you could assign to the Cinematic Universe. It's something I hate about Marvel and DC comics, that in their long history, there are so many ways to bring characters back from the dead that you either don't believe they're actually dead or are left wondering why they're still dead. At least in Harry Potter, Harry surviving the Killing Curse (both times) was a fluke -- something that only came about by extreme chance that most people wouldn't have, something that could only have happened to Harry. That makes it so we still feel something when people die, and therefore care about what's going to happen. But yeah, sure enough, all the deaths in Infinity War basically get undone, thanks to some time travel and magic stones. It unfortunately almost had to be like this, if this story was going to be told, but that doesn't change the fact that I don't like that aspect of the story. This invalidation of stakes wouldn't hurt as much if this was the last film Marvel ever made, but really, with how much money Marvel could make with the remaining cast of characters, I sort of doubt that.

+The filmmakers try to give some logical explanation to the time travel thing, but in the end, thanks to Steve's decision (which I'll get into), it's kind of thrown into question again. The idea was that they wouldn't be able to change the future by going back in time...and yet I can't see Steve not trying to do anything to hinder Bucky's suffering in the past, if he was back there. Yes, maybe it wouldn't change future!Bucky, but it would still be his best friend. And Steve's return to civilian life in the past would surely influence some things, wouldn't it? Wouldn't him living a life back then involve him getting a job, earning accolades for his past service, making friends, having children...anything? The alternate universe scenario proposed by the Ancient One would inevitably have to happen if Steve stayed behind, which was the whole reason he supposedly went back to put the stones where they were in the first place!!

+Okay, and now finally what I've been leading up to...Steve. As appropriate as Tony's ending was, Steve's was just as inappropriate in my mind. Steve not only had gotten over Peggy in previous films, where he got to speak with her as an old woman and make peace with the life they never got to have, but Steve was actively moving on. He had been dating Sharon Carter. He had developed close friendships with the other Avengers. He had an entire scene where he preached to others the value of dealing with grief productively and growing despite it...only to run back to the past as soon as he got the chance? And this isn't even touching how terrible of a friend this makes Steve, leaving Bucky behind and not even bothering to talk to him about what he was doing. Steve barely even spoke to Bucky in this movie: even after Bucky came back from the dead, Steve never had a proper reaction. They never fought side by side, exchanged affectionate one-liners, hugged, nothing. And this is Bucky we're talking about, the guy who Steve let beat him within an inch of his life -- who Steve protected from Tony -- who Steve openly and painfully grieved during Infinity War. And Bucky not only is left out in the cold by Steve, but Bucky thinks the Falcon should be the sole person to talk to him after his decision becomes clear. Bucky should have confronted Steve. He should have been angry. He should've asked why Steve didn't ask him to come too, didn't ask if he wanted to. Bucky deserved a happy life just as much as Steve did, after all the horrible things they went through. Why did Steve deserve to go back in time and live happily, and not Bucky? Why was Steve okay with the fact that he wouldn't see his best friend for decades? Why was Steve comfortable with the thought that Bucky would have to watch his best friend die of old age not long after just fighting side by side with him? Not only does this ending break Steve's character, but it doesn't match his arc at all. He was adapting well to the present -- he was growing, he was evolving. And yet his ending ended up being running back to when things were simpler, running back to the past like a coward instead of embracing the future. FUCK. THAT.

+I really didn't care for either Clint or Thor's development in the five year time jump. For Clint, as much as I like the parallels the script made between him and Natasha in regards to the awful things they've done, I still have difficulty seeing someone who was so devoted to S.H.I.E.L.D. being a ruthless, lawless, out-of-control assassin, even if he did lose his whole family. But Thor's characterization was so much worse. Thor has always been funny in the movies, as are a lot of the characters, but something I always loved about him in the series was how he balanced humor, sincere emotions and being a total bad ass. In this film...yeah, he's almost entirely there for laughs. He had a few bad-ass moments, but he didn't get the chance for much sincere pathos, when he kind of deserved some. The loss of Loki and how Thor dealt with it is never really addressed after the five-year time jump. Loki in general actually doesn't get addressed after he gets the tesseract either -- that almost inevitably will have to be a spin-off, but...hey, yeah, if Loki's still unaccounted for, then Bruce's promise to not let any alternate timelines pop up is already going to be broken, isn't it? The God of Mischief has a hold of the tesseract.

+As much as I liked the thought of Bruce being able to balance out the two sides of himself, I preferred the execution from what little I've seen of Avengers: Earth's Mightiest Heroes, where Hulk is the dominant personality but listens to Bruce more often and is therefore smarter than he was previously. In this version Bruce almost seems out of touch with his Hulk side when he tries to fight at first, even if he's now green all the time. It's just less entertaining, and seeing how Bruce evolved to the point where Banner and Hulk are interacting peacefully could've been an interesting thing to show over the course of several movies rather than something just alluded to after a time jump.

+Does everyone's vision of retirement involve moving out to a farm? Like, seriously, both Thanos and Tony do this. Thanos is almost comical, but Tony's just doesn't make sense to me. He just dropped his whole company, all of his weapons, protecting the world, everything?? Tony is a total control freak who became a superhero because other people were using his tech in a way he didn't approve of, yet he leaves his company and tech presumably in someone else's hands to raise his daughter out in the country? That just seems kind of unlike Tony.

So yeah, this film definitely is feels-worthy! I can see why there are so many strong reactions to it. It was a rather fun ride a lot of the time, but I admit, as an ending for quite a few of these characters, it wasn't all it could've been, in my opinion. Not a terrible way to end the Marvel Cinematic Universe's long run, but it's not an ending I'll have much fun revisiting. Once is more than enough.

Overall Grade: C

#marvel #the avengers #endgame #endgame spoilers #marvel spoilers #avengers spoilers #opinion #reviews #oh boy here i go

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braincoins · 7 years

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Title: Ragged Diagonal Fandom: “Voltron: Legendary Defender” Summary: No one wants Allura to marry Lotor, but she may have to out of a duty to her people and her bloodline. Ships: Shallura Warnings: Barely-edited, language Author’s Notes: "The line of life is a ragged diagonal between duty and desire." -William R. Alger

For the MAS server and especially our Overlord, @smolsarcasticraspberry ! Shiro's not technically Altean here, but the Magical part sure applies! Also, thanks to @materassassino for the beta! <3 (6102 Words - Also on AO3)

Allura studied herself in the full-length mirror and tried not to cry. Everything about this felt wrong, but she was convinced it was right. It was the only thing she could do. It was what she must do. As the last princess of Altea, this was what was necessary. Her father’s voice rang in her ears, speaking to her of the necessity of sacrifice for a greater good. She bit her lip and bade her reflection not to cry. She would do what her people required of her, always.

She smoothed her hands over herself in her mother’s wedding gown, the color of sunlit juniberries. Elegant, a touch old-fashioned (perhaps more than a touch after ten thousand years), but classically lovely. It felt like a sacrilege to wear it for this, but she had nothing else. She could remember the pictures Mother had shown her of her wedding day to then-Prince Alfor. She’d been radiant, clearly and obviously in love with her handsome groom, who was obviously doting upon her, smiling widely.

Allura had foolishly assumed her own wedding day would be as happy as theirs had been.

Don’t cry.

7 Quintants Ago

“What?” All the warmth in the room had been blasted away as she stared in disbelief at Coran. “You aren’t serious.”

He cleared his throat and put his hands – and the missive in them – behind his back, standing straight and proper. She’d watched him do this a thousand times; he was hiding behind his role as Royal Advisor. Well, he wouldn’t have characterized it that way, but it was how she thought of it. “I am, unfortunately, quite serious, Princess.”

“But… Lotor?” Lance made an ‘ew’ face from the seat at his station. “He’s so…”

“Slimy,” Hunk finished for him.

“And he’s Zarkon’s son!” Pidge reminded them all. Allura would’ve called the reminder unnecessary but clearly Coran was getting forgetful in his old age. “We can’t trust him!”

“And what about Sh-…?”

“Keith,” Shiro interrupted before the Red Paladin could finish the question. Allura couldn’t bring herself to look to the leader of Team Voltron. Even unfinished, Keith’s question had cut her the deepest.

There was an attraction building to Shiro that she was getting hard-pressed to push aside. When she felt on the verge of collapse, he shored her up. When he laughed, she felt her heart soar. When it seemed like their task was impossible, he rekindled her hope. It was getting foolish to deny how much she cared for him.

Which made Lotor’s offer of marriage all the more ludicrous. “Why would I even consider marrying the son of our most hated enemy? You don’t really believe his nonsense, do you?”

“I don’t believe him when he says he’s ‘overcome with love for you’, but I can think of any number of reasons,” Coran replied. “Purely from a strategic view, if he’s willing to bring you inside the Galra Empire and give you access to their systems, it’d be a huge help.”

“Ohhhh, so she agrees to marry him just to get in there, get info, maybe do some sabotage, and get out?” Hunk said, a smile starting on his face.

Allura was about to say that was an excellent plan when Coran shook his head. “Information, yes, but the rest of that, no. There are also non-strategic reasons to consider this a viable actual match.” He was looking dead at her as if she ought to know them.

She opened her mouth to inform him that he’d clearly gone utterly frumtash in his dotage, but then it occurred to her. “Oh.”

“Oh? What ‘oh’?” Lance pursued.

Allura looked down at the floor, hoping Coran would explain it. And, of course, like a good advisor, he did. “Allura is the last Sacred Altean. In the entire universe, she’s the only one who can operate the teludav. She’s the only one who can safely and respectfully obtain crystals from a Balmera. She is the last of the Royal Line.”

She looked up again in time to see him raise the missive from Lotor. “Included with his offer of marriage are Lotor’s blood and DNA scans. It proves that he has Sacred Altean blood – probably courtesy of Haggar.”

“Oh, there’s a mental image I didn’t need,” Hunk muttered, sounding like he might throw up.

Coran looked back to her. His eyes were sorrowful. “I’m sorry, Princess. The decision is yours, of course, but…”

“I have a responsibility to my people,” she finished for him, nodding.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” That was Keith, who sounded almost insulted.

“Please, Paladins,” she said. “I need some time to think.”

“Lotor wants a reply within 40 vargas,” Coran put in.

“He shall have it. For now, the bridge is yours, Coran. Excuse me.” She turned and walked away, trying to keep herself at a properly regal speed until she was away from them all. Only then did she run the rest of the way to her quarters to throw herself onto her bed and sob.

She looked up when her door chimed at her some vargas later. She hurried to hide the signs of her tears before she called out, “Come in!”

The door admitted Shiro, carrying a tray. “Hunk wanted you to have these,” he said, nodding down at the cookies. “He promises they don’t have any scaultrite in them this time.”

She smiled. “That was thoughtful of him, thank you. You can just set them over there, please?” She gestured towards the vanity.

He nodded and took them over. “And… I do need to talk with you. I know you must have a lot on your mind right now, but I thought I could help.”

“Help? I don’t see how, Shiro, but I’m willing to listen.” Please, she pleaded with him silently, find me a way out of this mess. He was a strategist, an excellent leader. Her heart began to lift at the thought that her… no, the Black Paladin of Voltron had figured out how to save her.

He cleared his throat and kept his eyes on the tray of cookies. “I know you’ve felt it, too, Allura.”

Oh, Ancients, I love it when you say my name. “Felt… it?” she asked aloud.

He still wouldn’t look at her. “The… the attraction between us.”

Her heart started thudding. A way out and a love confession at the same time? The cookies – though surely tasty if Hunk had made them – were hardly necessary when Shiro was giving her so much at once. She wished he’d turn around so she could see those dark and lovely eyes of his.

“I have,” she admitted, hoping to encourage him.

“I thought I could just put this conversation off. I felt it could be safely put on the back burner, set aside for more important considerations like saving the universe. But I see now how wrong I was.”

Just say it. Turn around and say it and then hold me, Shiro. I badly need to be held. I need to be cared for. Even if you don’t have a way out of this, just tell me you love me and wrap me up in your arms and we can figure this out together after that, please.

He lifted his head and turned to her. She finally got to see those lovely dark eyes of his, but they were hard and cold as stone.

“I need you to understand that it’s nothing, Allura.”

She blinked at him. “What?”

“If any part of you is holding back from this arrangement with Lotor because of me, stop. Because there’s nothing. I’m not…” He looked away from her. “I’m not interested in you that way, Allura. And Coran’s right: you could feed us information from the inside, in addition to saving your bloodline.”

Her blood went cold for the second time that day. She stared at him.

He was still speaking. “This is a good idea, not just for your people but for our mission. Play the doting and dutiful wife, cater to his ego. Once he’s convinced that you’re completely obedient and enthralled with him, you can get us…”

“Get out.”

He turned to look at her in confusion. “What was that?”

“Leave. My. Quarters,” she ordered him icily.

He nodded. “As you wish, Princess.”

When the door shut behind him, she crumpled to the floor and sobbed.

Shiro could hear her crying, and it made him want to turn around, to charge back in there and gather her up into his arms to hug her and soothe her and confess that he’d lied. It had felt like he was stabbing himself to do it, but he knew he had to.

Because as soon as she’d left the bridge, every pair of eyes had been on him. He could read them all. Three pairs – Lance, Hunk, and Pidge – had wanted to know what he was going to do. One pair – Keith’s – had insisted he tell her the truth. And Coran’s had, of course, simply insisted that he convince her.

Shiro couldn’t put his own desires ahead of a nearly extinct magical bloodline. He couldn’t prioritize his feelings over the good of the entire universe, no matter how badly he wanted to. He’d asked Hunk to bake a fresh batch of cookies and used the time to practice the hardest lie he’d ever told in his life.

I wish I could tell you the truth.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to punch Lotor in his smug snake face for even daring to suggest such a thing. He wanted to pull Allura into his arms and apologize for lying before letting the true depths of his feelings for her emerge – in words, in hugs, in kisses, in any and every way she’d let him express how very much he cared for her.

He hadn’t really realized until this. He knew she was gorgeous, she was brave, inspiring, amazing, steadfast, determined. Still, it hadn’t really hit him how much he loved her until he was tasked with convincing her he wasn’t.

But he knew he had to do this. Because he had to cut her free, for her sake. For the sake of everyone, of the countless people and planets and systems relying on them.

“Defender of the universe,” rang hollow in his heart.

“YOU IDIOT.”

“Keep your voice down.”

Keith wanted to tear his hair out. “You were supposed to tell her the truth,” he hissed.

“I was supposed to do no such thing,” Shiro replied, taking another sip of nunvill. “I was supposed to do exactly what I did do, which is to make things easier for her.”

“She should drop-kick Lotor into the next galaxy,” Keith insisted. “She should be with you! C’mon, Shiro, even I can tell that.”

Shiro snorted once but didn’t laugh. Keith fell into a seat next to him and waited.

Eventually, Shiro commented, “As much as I’d love to see her kick his ass, that can’t happen. There are few enough Alteans as there is. Lotor’s at least ½ Altean, and he has the correct bloodline.”

“So he claims,” Keith muttered.

Shiro shook his head. “I had Pidge check the message he sent over. It has actual scannable samples included. The Castle verified it: he’s Sacred.”

“He’s a douchebag.”

“Keith.”

“He is!”

“That’s not helping.” Keith watched him slug back some more nunvill. “I’ll get over her, Keith. And, because of what I did, she’ll get over me even faster. That’s what needs to happen.”

“You’re going to send her to the Galra and who knows what they’ll do to her?”

“Lotor will protect her. She’s a trophy for him. Let him think that’s all she is, that he’s won. She’ll prove the Galra Empire’s undoing while he’s busy preening like the peacock he is, and she’ll preserve her race’s most valuable bloodline while she’s at it.”

“By sleeping with him.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“She has to have sex with him.”

“KEITH.”

“She’ll…”

“DON’T. Say it,” Shiro all but growled at him. “It’s not helping.”

“If it’s getting you angry, it is! You know she doesn’t want him! She wants you!”

“Keith, you can’t say that. No one can say that but her.”

“She would be saying it if you hadn’t just lied to her face!”

“I am swearing you to secrecy, Keith.”

“The hell you are.”

“I Am. You and I took an oath.” Shiro looked up at him, dead in the eye, and Keith sighed.

“I know, I know,” he groaned. “But this…”

“Is a secret I’ll take to the grave with me. And so will you. Because we promised each other.”

“Fine.” Keith sulked, but Shiro had tied his hands with the reminder of the oath they’d sworn back at the Garrison: to always tell each other the truth, to always have each other’s backs, and to always keep each other’s secrets. He couldn’t let his mentor and best friend down now. But it ate at him, to watch Shiro be miserable while the woman he clearly loved was going to head off to marry a man she didn’t love for the sake of “duty.”

Keith hated that word. He hated the way it was used, almost always by those who had power and authority and thought that that alone meant you were obligated to obey them. It was used to get respect for those who had done nothing to deserve it. Duty was a shield for fools and cowards and a sword for bullies and tyrants. Duty was a paper-thin purpose for those who had none of their own.

“Duty” was about to ruin the lives of two people Keith cared for. And he couldn’t do anything about it.

Shiro’s hand cut through another training drone, and it dissolved into pixels before disappearing. He ducked and rolled to avoid a blast and came up to slice through the gun the next drone held. He feinted with his glowing hand and kicked back at the one coming up behind him, knocking it back as he took out two more with a swiping slash.

It was like meditation for him. It let him give vent to his feelings while also letting him step away from them. He just flowed through one motion into the next, like a particularly lethal form of dancing.

It’s better this way, he told himself for easily the thousandth time. She shouldn’t be with me anyway. She’s a princess. I’m little better than a weapon.

Slice, dice, hack, slash.

Feint, punch, kick, dodge.

Glints of purple at the edges of his vision as he swung his hand.

He tried not to think of Allura’s face when she’d boarded the pod to go over to Lotor’s ship.

He tried to push the smarmy snake’s voice from his mind as he’d magnanimously invited them all to the ceremony – under guard, of course. No weapons allowed.

Then I shouldn’t go at all. Under the right circumstances, I would be your end, Lotor.

Because of his arm. Because of this thing where his right arm should be. Haggar’s voice in his mind. “You could have been our greatest weapon!”

Why?

Why him? Not in the oh-boo-hoo-why-me sort of way, but what was it about him that had the witch convinced he had such powerful potential?

He cried out as he was struck from behind and hit the floor. He’d gotten lost in his own thoughts, fallen out of the flow. “End training sequence.”

The drones stopped, then fizzled out of existence. Shiro got up and arched his back, wincing at the spot where the blow had landed. Three vargas until the wedding. He didn’t want to be there, but he hoped for a chance to get Lotor alone, to warn him what would happen if he mistreated the princess even once…

He shook his head and headed for the infirmary. Strictly speaking, he didn’t need it for the bruising he’d gotten, but his last round in the pod had awakened new memories for him. And Haggar’s words were eating at him more than usual lately. He’d use the aches and pains of sparring as an excuse and hope his subconscious would be useful for a change.

It was a voice unlike any he’d ever heard.

It was his mother’s voice.

It was Allura’s.

It was strange and familiar all at once, unidentifiable to his conscious mind yet it sang through his bloodstream like an old friend, comforting in a way he’d never known.

The voice was, and it was in him, around him, it both was and wasn’t him, it just WAS, it existed as it always had and always would and it said his name so beautifully he wanted to laugh and weep at the same time.

And the voice spoke of destiny.

The future is malleable, but some things are inevitable. All stars collapse, all stars are born. The manner and the methods may vary, may change, may alter and shift, but there are points in time and space which will come to pass, no matter what.

The voice told him he had passed one such point already.

The voice promised him another. And another.

Destiny was not done with him yet.

And when the pod released him, it wasn’t just his hand glowing, but his entire arm lighting up purple. The purple worked its way up into his body, and he tried to fight it, tried to push it down, but it filled his head, made his eyes glow but not yellow like the visions and nightmares that kept him from sleeping but purple...

No. NO. NO!

He shut his eyes against the corruption, but it made him feel sick, like taking too many G’s.

Open your eyes.

And he did. He opened his eyes and the purple blasted out of them, ejected and rejected by his body. His eyes still glowed, but they were blue-tinged white now, and it settled over his body, pushing out the evil of the Druids’ magic. It pulsed down his arm, where the Galra energy lived and was strongest.

It hurt, ached like an old injury flaring, but he focused.

The white energy flared and crackled as it pushed the dark magic of the Druids out. The darkness within his arm hissed and popped in response, tried to fight back, but eventually his entire arm glowed white, bright and unsullied.

He came to on the floor of the infirmary, Coran and the paladins around him chattering concern.

He pushed himself to his feet, and activated his hand.

Everyone quieted instantly.

Shiro looked at them. “We’ve got work to do.”

“Are you sure that drone didn’t hit your head?” Hunk asked him.

“Explain this,” he challenged, lighting his hand again. It was the same hand it had always been until he activated it. It glowed white, and Pidge was running some analysis on it as they talked on the bridge.

“It just can’t be,” Coran repeated.

Keith pressed, “You’re saying some random chick told you you could do this?”

“Was she hot?” Lance wanted to know.

“I never saw Her. And I don’t think She’s just ‘some chick,’” he chided Keith lightly. He looked to Coran, who was still shaking his head.

“Just impossible,” the advisor was muttering to himself.

“Here’s the preliminary analysis,” Pidge declared, bringing it up on the main screen for them all to see.

“Okay, and…?” Keith wanted to know.

“Hey, hey, that looks familiar,” Hunk chimed in. “Kind of like…”

“This?” Pidge finished for him, and brought up a similar energy signature on the screen right below the one from Shiro’s arm.

“Yeah!”

“What is that?” Lance asked her.

Rather than answer right away, she pulled up two more energy signatures and split the screen into four parts to display them all. They weren’t identical, but all four were strikingly similar. “Well, obviously the first signature is Shiro’s arm. The other three are all key Castle systems: bridge control, crystal energy transference matrix, and, of course, the teludav.”

Shiro looked up at Coran, but he didn’t seem surprised. He was still muttering to himself.

“So… all the systems that Allura controls,” Hunk summed up.

“But you’re human,” Coran protested. “You’re from Earth, not Altea!”

“I’m part Galra,” Keith reminded him. “And I don’t look it, do I?”

“Yeah, I’ve looked,” Hunk said, “no purple on him anywhere I can see.”

Coran was still in denial. “This just shouldn’t be possible.”

“What shouldn’t be possible?” Pidge verbally prodded him.

“If this is right,” the advisor gestured at the signatures on the screen, “then Shiro’s… Sacred.”

They were all quiet for a moment until Keith declared, “I’m going to go get Allura back.”

“Hold on, Keith,” Shiro said. “You can’t just go charging in there.”

“Watch me.”

“No. Coran’s not through explaining. Because in all of this with Allura and Lotor and the bloodline and all that, you’ve never explained what a ‘Sacred Altean’ actually is.”

Coran sighed harshly and folded his arms. “Yes, well, you lot never seem interested in my explanations.”

“We are this time!” Lance hooted. “Spill!”

Coran cleared his throat. “Well, you have to understand the ‘sacred’ designation is more traditional than anything else. It hearkens back to a time when it was believed that the royal bloodline and a few others were directly blessed by the Goddess of the Universe, She who was responsible for creating all life. She’s the source of quintessence, according to legend, and Her cult on Altea used to be the most widespread and powerful. It had dwindled in the last days, no longer quite as ascendant as it used to be, but it was still going, of course. We had many different religions and belief-systems.”

“Was Haggar part of the Goddess Cult?” Shiro asked.

Coran walked over to his station and pulled up a screen. Altean words scrolled past until one set flashed. “She was a priestess, it looks like. Not the High Priestess though. In fact,” he pulled up some more data in Altean, “this shows that she was passed over several times for higher-ranking positions.”

“Did she start her own cult then?” Lance wondered.

“Maybe. Or maybe she went over to the Dark Side,” Pidge mused. She pulled up another screen at her station and sent it to the front. “This is the energy signature my computer pulled when it was hooked up to Shiro’s arm before.” She pulled up the current one and overlapped them: they looked like the backbone of a double helix. “This can’t be coincidence.”

“So, the Galra are the Sith and the Alteans are the Jedi?” Hunk asked.

“More like the Druids and the Sacred Alteans specifically, but basically, yeah,” Pidge confirmed. “That’s my current hypothesis anyway.”

“Dude, does that mean Shiro just got blessed by an actual GODDESS?” Lance wondered aloud.

“Those are just legends,” Coran repeated.

“Whatever,” Keith shrugged. “Shiro’s arm’s energy signature matches the Castle systems. Isn’t that good enough for him to marry Allura?”

“Keith,” Shiro practically growled.

“What?”

“That’s just his arm,” Coran pointed out. “No offense, Shiro, but it’s a false arm attached to you. It’s not you. Look, everyone, I don’t want her to marry Lotor anymore than you do, but it’s necessary.”

“Necessary for what?” Pidge countered. “Coran, a lot of evolution can happen in 10,000 years! Humans are proof of that, after all. If Alteans had been allowed to survive all this time, who knows what they’d look like or be like?”

“I’m not talking about the hideous ears you all have,” Coran reminded her. “I’m talking about the Sacred part of the bloodline here.”

“Test his blood,” Keith declared. “Test his blood the same way we tested Lotor’s.”

“That’ll take time,” Pidge said. “And the wedding’s in a little over a varga.”

They all looked to him.

Shiro thought of the voice. Of what it had said of destiny. Of what he felt now – about his arm, which glowed white in response, and also about Allura.

He looked around at his team. “Take what you need to start the scan, then get dressed for the wedding. Stall for time as much as you can, but do not say anything to the princess. We don’t want her thinking there’s a way out if it turns out there isn’t.”

“On it.”

Shiro looked up at Coran. “And if it turns out I’m… ?”

Coran smiled. “She’s like a daughter to me. It’s only my position as Royal Advisor that’s ever had me advocating for her to be with a slimy luirass like Lotor. I’d much rather she be happy – and away from him.”

Shiro smiled back. “Thank you, Coran.”

Present

She probably should have scolded Keith, but she honestly couldn’t blame him for his behavior. She couldn’t blame any of them. In a way, she was glad that Keith had triple-checked security (and nearly picked a fight with the guards); that Hunk had sent half the food back to be redone (and accidentally eaten most of the other half); that Pidge and Lance had given her soon-to-be husband an earful or three about the proper ways to treat a princess. She knew they’d all done it to put off the inevitable, and she had lived vicariously through their stalling tactics.

The rational part of her said the sooner this was gotten over with, the better. But the part of her that wanted to kick and scream and fuss was happy to have the distractions and delays. So she hadn’t scolded any of them.

She was a little surprised Shiro wasn’t there though. She figured something was holding him up, and that’s why the team were pulling their shenanigans. When she tried to ask Coran about it – and about what had held him up as well – she’d gotten some evasive answers that made her think that maybe, just maybe, Shiro cared more than he’d led her to believe. That it hurt him to watch her be married off to…

Wishful thinking. And what point to thinking this now?

She wouldn’t cry. She would hold her head high and show Lotor – and all of the Galra – what a princess of Altea was truly like. No sniveling child but a proud leader, willing to sacrifice for her people. She turned from the full-length mirror and headed for the door of her dressing room.

She was going to be married.

Whether she liked it or not.

The Paladins lined the aisle as if they could protect her from the Galra soldiers filling the pews. She ignored the audience and focused on the giant “window” – likely a viewscreen – projecting an image of an aetherite window straight out of every Altean worship temple she’d ever been in. It was a rainbow of colors, as if the sun were rising just beyond it, as if they weren’t on a Galra ship out in the interminable darkness of space. She appreciated that far more than she did the fake juniberries in the bouquet she was carrying (another “gift” from her groom).

“You look radiant,” Lotor said as he joined her, just as she walked past Keith and Lance.

She took his arm as tradition required. “Thank you.”

“I am surprised though. Only four Paladins?”

She arched an eyebrow. Coran’s evasions were all pointless; she hadn’t bought one of them when he’d peddled them to her, so she doubted Lotor would be more gullible. She came up with her own. “Disappointed in not having all five paladins of Voltron aboard your ship and away from their lions?” she asked him mildly. She probably shouldn’t be accusing her future husband of such things.

He sighed. “You’ll learn to trust me in time, Allura. I am defying my father out of my love for you.”

She eyed the not-insignificant harem that filled the first few rows of seats. “Love does make people do strange things, I suppose.”

“I will prove it to you every chance I get,” he promised, but it rang in her ears like a threat.

I am not looking forward to tonight.

Their officiant was to be a sentry drone, it appeared. She supposed that was fitting, and wondered idly if this meant she wouldn’t be required to show any more emotion than the robot.

As they took their places in front of everyone, the doors to the “temple” slammed shut. She whipped her head towards the sound and then narrowed her eyes at Lotor, but he just smiled at her. “My dear, it’s just so everyone knows the ceremony is beginning and that late arrivals or early departures would be disruptive.”

She didn’t like it, and everything in her screamed. She exhaled and looked to the officiant. “Very well.”

The officiant began to drone, “Soldiers of the Galra Empire, Paladins of Voltron, we are here today to celebrate the joining of Prince Lotor of the Galra and Princess Allura of Altea in sacred matrimony. Here, in the sight of all you good people…”

Allura looked over the crowd. Lotor’s harem, the soldiers, the Paladins still standing at attention along the aisle, unwilling to take their seats, and the remaining pews filled with sentries. If we wanted to attack, this would be an ideal time. He’s got most of his command staff here… But who was there to charge in? Shiro and the Black Lion?

It was a nice daydream, that he’d come swooping in to save her from a life of misery and duty, but he’d made his feelings clear enough. Still, he wasn’t here, and she hadn’t been given a satisfactory answer as to why.

But it didn’t matter. For whatever reason, Shiro wasn’t coming for her. She had made her choice, as a princess had to. It wasn’t about what she wanted. It was about what was best for her people and the universe.

But then an alarm started. “What’s going on?” Lotor demanded of the officiant.

It stopped reciting its programmed vows but before it could report, the door to the room had a new opening blasted into it. Allura brought up her arm to protect her head, but when she looked back, it was the Black Paladin himself striding into the room. He wasn’t in dress uniform the way the other Paladins were, but in his battle gear, and his hand was just starting to dim from its… white?!

“What the...?” Lotor snarled.

“Shiro?” she asked, feeling adrenaline and hope start to surge.

“You don’t have to marry him, Princess.”

“She’s chosen to,” Lotor declared smugly. “For the good of her people. As a proper leader should do.”

“Then it’s not really a choice, is it?” Shiro shot back. “But she has one now.”

“What? YOU?” Lotor laughed heartily.

“The blood results?” Pidge piped up.

Allura was very confused. “Blood results? What are you talking about?”

“Uploaded to the Castle systems,” he confirmed. “As Princess of Altea and commander of the Castleship, she should have access to all of its information.”

She arched an eyebrow, but lifted her hand. She was still wearing her command bracelets, wedding or no. The gold flashed and brought up a screen for her, and she gasped at what she saw.

“Impossible,” Lotor snarled, seeing the backside of the screen.

“Shiro,” she breathed. “You’re…”

“Blessed by the Goddess,” Keith finished for her. “You don’t have to marry this slimy piece of shit, Allura.”

But she looked to Shiro.

“I lied,” he said, eyes locked on hers. And they weren’t hard or cold any longer. They were the same deep, dark eyes she’d dreamed of losing herself in, even with the visor of his helmet in the way. “I wanted to make it easy on you. I thought it would hurt you more to do this if I told you the truth, and I thought you had to do it.”

“The Druids chose him to experiment on because he had the potential for this,” Pidge put in.

“And that potential’s been realized now,” Keith said.

Before she could say anything, Lotor bellowed, “ATTACK!” and the temple descended into chaos. The Paladins had somehow smuggled in their helmets and bayards, so even mostly unarmored, they were proving to be hard foes for the sentries and soldiers surrounding them.

Lotor lunged for her, but she ducked and swept his legs out from under him. “Think again, luirass.”

He was back on his feet in no time. “You’re going to belong to me one way or another, Princess. You and the power you possess will be mine.”

“Well, at least you’re being honest now,” she replied as he attacked her again. He was fast, but she could easily keep up. “You know, that’s the foundation of all good relationships.”

“You lost your chance at a ‘good relationship’. I would’ve made things so sweet for you before all of this; it would’ve been like a fairy tale.”

“I never did like fairy tales much.” She summoned up all her strength to knock him back, and was gratified to see him hit the far wall. “This princess rescues herself, thanks.”

And then Shiro was at her side. “We don’t have time to argue!” He pulled his helmet off.

“What?”

He jammed it onto her head. “Hold on!” He grabbed hold of her arms and spun them, putting his armored back to the aetherite window just before it exploded.

The viewscreen – as suspected – flew into shards and Allura realized suddenly what Shiro’s plan was. “NO!” But it was too late.

The vacuum of space sucked them out of the ship; icy darkness surrounded them as glittering shards of viewscreen and the petals of fake juniberries from her dropped bouquet danced around their bodies. Shiro went limp in her arms from the sudden shock to his system and she pulled him close to her.

“SHIRO!”

Before she could say anything else, they were swallowed up by… The Black Lion! Thank the Goddess.

She carried Shiro to the cockpit, tucking him against one of the consoles before hopping into the seat. “Please, I know I’m not Shiro, but we have to get him out of here.”

There was a brief pause and then the seat brought her forward to the controls. She wrapped her hands over them.

“Thank you. Let’s go home.”

She paced outside the pod Shiro was in. Coran had used more of her stored residual energy to wormhole them away once all they were all back in the Castle. It had taken quite a bit of reassurance (and some hectoring from Coran) to get the Paladins to let her be alone in the infirmary. She stopped pacing to look up at him as the pod set him right.

We must’ve looked quite the sight: me walking out of the Black Lion, carrying you in my arms, your helmet no doubt a very strange accessory to my mother’s wedding dress. She looked down at it; it was a bit tattered at the hems now, and she offered up an apology to her late mother for the state of it.

The pod opened, and she whirled towards it to steady Shiro as he emerged. She yelped a little in surprise when he pulled her in for a hug, then laughed in relief and hugged him back. “You brash fool,” she teased, not meaning it in the slightest.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” he breathed.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she replied. “And don’t you ever pull such a stunt again.”

“I won’t, so long as you don’t try to marry evil dirtbags anymore.”

“Never again,” she promised. “Though I’ll point out that I didn’t think I had much of a choice.”

“You did. You do.”

“Do I?” she asked, pulling away a little so she could look at his face. “Tell me the truth now, Shiro, and I’ll forgive you for lying before.”

His gaze was warm, and she felt like she might melt from his smile. “I love you, Allura.”

“There, see? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” She beamed and hugged him again. “And that’s more important to me than all the Goddess blessings in the universe. Though that part was an unexpected stroke of good luck. Because you know Coran’s not wrong about my duty to my bloodline.”

“Well, I’m not a sacred Altean,” he pointed out. “Just a sacred human, I guess.”

“You’re Shiro. That’s all I need.” She leaned back. “Because I love you, too.”

He leaned back in towards her and she met him halfway. He threaded his fingers into her hair as they kissed, and there was an energy between them that was beyond science’s electrical or chemical impulses. It was magic.

#Socks writes Voltron fanfic #Shallura #Voltron #breaking Tumblr vacay just long enough to post this #for the MAS server <3

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sassyhazelowl · 7 years

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Option B has been launched. I’d like to give a shout out to both @everybodys-chains & @lucylaneeffect for being terrible and supportive influences about things I really have no business writing. And also @the-archangel-of-zeref for pointing out the fact I have no idea what the fuck is actually going on in canon and all the bits I got wrong. All the bits that are still wrong are now me purposefully sticking my middle finger up at canon and choosing to ignore my education.

Disclaimer: Lots of middle fingers towards canon. Some shade may be thrown at certain popular characters. In the process of attempting to make them likable protagonists instead of walking plot devices, great liberties have been taken with cardboard characters with no consistent canon characterization. I might fuck this up but you’ll live. It has yet to be beta’d but I’m going to cram it down my friend’s throat because if she’s forcing me to beta her SessKag drivel, she owes me.

Also, yes, this is divergent canon where The Christina arrives 10 minutes early and ruins part of the canon timeline and the plot, hurrah! Blame Blue Pegasus for being awesome.

Prologue

“It’s got quite the view.”

She swept by without any acknowledgement of the view or the speaker, tilting her head down towards the wizen old man tottering along a half pace ahead with a spriness that belied his age. If she stared hard enough, she could just make out the outline of Ursa Major on that liver spotted pate. Casting a glance up at her because he felt her heavy gaze, he spoke with enthusiasm, quick to monopolize on the good point, “Yes, yes! You have very good taste indeed. When the harbor is clear you can see all the way across the bay to our sister town!”

“Hmm,” was the moody response as she realized she was one skin discoloration away from completing the bear’s face.

“Our town is known for its fresh air and fresh seafood,” he babbled on nervously, picking up on her discontent but not sure why. Did she know about the foundation problems? The sandfleas that invaded in the peak of summer for those few miserable weeks? Or had to come on too strong while she was enjoying said view, even though her mahogany eyes had been train elsewhere? “Very relaxed for those who wish to retire…”

Now that was entirely the wrong thing to say, and he froze, gray, watery eyes comically wide below peppered brows and mouth falling open in a hasty apology. He was too slow, far too slow, because the woman’s younger companion, who had been leaning against the rail burst into laughter.

“Your age is showing!”

The sigh she’d been holding in, so polite and proper it was smothering, burst out then, startling them both, and she mustered a bland smile for the man trying to sell her the property.

“Thank you, sir. I will certainly consider the… view. It is a lovely town but I am not sure it’s quite--” her eyes cut to the left sharply and the smile wavered at the edges as she took in the view for the first time; it was really was magnificent and she finished her decline regretfully, “What I am searching for.”

The man’s face fell into a mass of disappointed wrinkles at her gentle rebuff but he didn’t spring along or follow when she turned to leave. Unfortunately, the other woman did. And that, right there, was the problem. Sadly, changing location wouldn’t solve it.

The footfalls behind her weren’t a skip but they held a childish quality to them nonetheless. If she didn’t know better, she’d expect someone much different. It was that hesitant patter-pattering that had grown so familiar she didn’t know if she could remember a time recently she hadn’t heard it, even before the outcome of the trial. After all, since that fateful moment their eyes met across the battlefield, she felt a string being tied tight, very much like a noose actually when she paused to think about it.

“Again Anna?” It was less of a complaint and more of a curious question. Surprisingly, the other woman seemed wholly content simply to have the Celestial Wizard within sight. It was a fit of mild hilarity waiting to happen the moment someone from the Council came to check up on her ward only to find that Anna could barely slip away to the bathroom alone. Just who was the prison warden here again?

“It’s not right,” she mumbled, more to herself than her shadow. The footsteps skittered and stumbled a bit, this being the first time Anna had ever bothered to respond to the stream of comments, complaints and observations since the two had left Magnolia.

“I suppose,” was the hummed reply, much too thoughtful to be a child, but said with the same sort of flippant innocence, “The salt in the air would utterly ruin my hair in any case.”

Anna grunted at the assumption the sea wind was an inconvenience the woman and nearly whirled on her heel to take the blasted property; the grunt was a crass and unladylike sound, entirely inappropriate for civilized company. Fortunately, the only company she’d been keeping for the past few weeks was the current one, and Irene was far from civilized, Anna had found out.

“No one asked you to come along,” the Celestial Wizard pointed out, proud of the fact it was level and fair not snippy and petty. She was supposed to be locked up in the hotel room after all but making her stay put was impossible, and Anna had realized it was easier just to keep a personal eye on her.

But it was seriously getting on her nerves, and it seemed silly to keep up the charade of a noblewoman, of a learned woman, of one who was beyond reproach, but she’d been doing it for so long, she wasn’t sure how to stop. She wasn’t even sure if she could stop. Maybe that persona was all there was left to Anna -- proper manners, empty airs and graying blonde hair befitting a proper matriarch. The title she should have and would have held over her grand and sprawling estate four hundred years in the past.

Of course, there was dear Lucy now, she supposed. And her beloved Dragon Slayers as well.

But neither made up for what she’d chosen to sacrifice. The life and children and husband and sprawling clan she’d forsaken to save the future. It weighed on her. Those memories, that forfeited life she’d been born to have.

“I have to,” Irene replied immediately, seriously, “I promised.”

Well, she’s already broken her own rule about not speaking, so she might as well indulge her curiosity a bit, “To whom?”

“You.”

Regret was the feeling that came to mind when Anna considered it. Not regret for saving Irene’s life, never that. Nor regret for bring her aboard The Christina while rescuing young Wendy from Acnologia’s wrath… if they had been just five or ten minutes later, there wouldn’t have been anything left of the young Dragon Slayer to rescue. Nor Irene either for that matter, given what Miss Scarlet had said later, a cold look to her and not a shred of sympathy.

Anna was not surprised to learn about their blood relations; after all, family fostered the deepest bonds of love, and therefore, too, the deepest bonds of loathing as well.

But she was definitely regretting not slipping out of town in the middle of the night. And the permanent limp from her shattered and magically regenerated hip that made her slow enough that the recovering witch could keep pace. Most noteworthy, she regretted breaking her self-imposed vow of silence, and she promised this would be the first and last time she’d slip. If she were patient and mature, she could weather the next few months as mandated by the court with little stress or effort, and then she would be entirely free.

In the meantime, Anna mustn't encourage her.

She wanted to know as little as possible about the other woman. Truly, after all she’d done, was a little peace and solitude too much to ask for? Let her spend her last years alone with a cat and a garden and copious amounts of high quality tea.

Somewhere with an unaltered view of the stars.

“Perhaps you should try the mountains.”

Perhaps you should mind your own business, Anna’s snotty inner-voice snapped back irritable but she kept mum.

A wistful tone entered the other woman’s voice as she added uncharastically poetic and somber, “With thick pines all around and the mountain side filled with moonlight. So bright, so beautiful.”

A memory misty with age, tugged on Anna then, of a similar scene up in much younger mountains full of newly matured evergreens untouched by man’s saw and a cliffside no mere human could reach easily. How the crisp night’s air was more a biting chill on her exposed legs as they dangled carelessly over the edge, confident she was safe despite the lethal drop. Snug in a cocoon of heavy fur blankets, her back slumped comfortably against a firm surface. The heat being radiated was warm enough to tempt her to peel back the blankets, and the gentle lull of the motion behind her was rocking her to sleep, eyelids fighting the inevitable. She was up here to observe the stars without interference but it’d been a mere half hour and she was already losing the fight with slumber, all the stress and worries of the project having worn her down into a shell. It was so… quiet here… so safe and peaceful… so unspoilt by war. It was hard not to flinch when the tail flew up, swift and accurate, but it merely landed beneath Anna’s legs, drawing them up off the ledge and curling around her. A snout nudged her in apology from behind, knocking into her shoulder so hard she jolted and laughed ruefully. Crimson entered her vision as the a large horned head curled around, tucking her in, large bioluminescent eye already closed and breath deepening, and Anna smiled, settling back to look up at the stars, safe in the dragon’s claws…

Jolting back into the present, she took a long moment to smell the bay and listen to the screams of the circling gulls and stare across the sapphire blue waves dotted with cheerful fishing boats. It was lovely, anyone’s dream.

But it was just not… right.

Instead she pulled out a map, peering over it with intense scrutiny, before sighing and crumpling it up violently. In her annoyance, she forgot herself. Again.

“Your Universe One is a menace.”

If she was expecting an apology, which she wasn’t, she would have been disappointed. Irene shrugged her shoulders then, lip jutted out in a tiny bit of a pout, and replied as she sagged against the rail a bit to stand up straight, “I was planning to return it as it was… but Erza broke my magical container. Such a horrible little child, that one. I didn’t have enough magic to put it all back. Anna? Anna, surely you understand! I did give it a good try… most of it went back… all the important places in any case.”

Anna mentally questioned what she considered important but kept her mouth pressed firmly shut. Her lips were starting to burn from the pressure and her throat tickled. She’d spent decades shutting up and it was becoming a difficult and impossible thing to do, she was finding out, now that she was free to speak with nothing but her own sensibilities to hold her tongue.

Whatever. What was the point in silence now? If she was stuck with this other woman, she may as well use it to her own advantage and speak her mind fully. It’d be cathartic.

Puffing up, she got ready to give Irene a piece of her mind about using magic irresponsibly, which was completely useless now but relevant and probably counted towards her community service of rehabilitation if she gave a lecture about magical mindfulness, when Irene cut her off with a careless motion.

“Besides, my magic is all gone now. All of it.” A hint of remorse had crept into her tone, although Anna suspected she just felt sorry for herself more than anything for having her wicked deed punished. The look on her face didn’t look particularly repentant nor sorry though, eyes hard with thinly concealed fury and mouth set in a wobbly smirk that refused to settle. Bitterness. Resentment. “After all, they made sure to render their conquered helpless and then claim compassion and mercy while releasing them to the wolves.” The smirk curled into a bit of a snarl thing, flashing an actual sharp canine fang that was most certainly not that of a full human, and her pupils turned to cat-like slits, “But magic does not a dragon make, and I await the day they learn this lesson the hard way.”

Paling a bit, all annoyance flushed away, all of Erza’s warning echoing in her head, Anna cleared her throat then, skin still prickling and crawling at the snap of dangerous crackling fury. Swallowing a bit, refusing to look ruffled, it was a rough reminder that this woman was not simply a childish shadow but an ex-Spriggan as well.

“Why don’t we try the mountains then?” she offered once she could get the words past her tight throat and Irene’s countenance cleared immediately as she clapped her hands a bit with delight, “You said ‘we’ Anna!”

“Yes, yes I did. Now come along. If we hurry, I am sure we can catch the next train before nightfall.”

As expected, the patter-pattering started up immediately, but somehow with a bit more... pep? Anna felt a certain kind of doom settling but fought it off.

What was the worse that could happen anyway?

#mine

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swipestream · 6 years

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SUPERVERSIVE: Even “Death Note” Needs a Hero

So I wasn’t going to do another post on “Death Note” – and I can promise you this will be the final one – but I decided on this topic because I realized that the flaws actually had a lot to do with the superversive philosophy. So I think this will be instructive even for people who aren’t necessarily fans of the franchise.

“Death Note” is basically two different animes with one title (as usual, this is my catch-all for both the anime and the manga, though in this case there are actually some instructive differences). The first half is an absolute masterpiece of concept, characterization, and (particularly) plotting, with multiple iconic moments and a level of consistent suspense that would make Alfred Hitchcock turn green with envy.

The second half is…meh.

I am sure fans of the franchise know where I’m going with this, and it’s really impossible to avoid spoilers if I’m going to discuss it. If you haven’t seen the show yet, do so before you read ahead.

…

Ready?

All right, let’s do this.

The death of L was the end of the franchise’s golden run. What happened is actually fairly common, and I’ve seen it before. The franchise decided it was going to go with a totally unexpected, game-changing move in order ratchet up the suspense and surprise people. “Sherlock” did the same thing in “The Reichenbach Fall”, and “Justified” did the same thing in the season 4 finale, “Ghosts”.

In all three cases, the actual episode was brilliant; for all of “Sherlock’s” flaws “The Reichenbach Fall” is the best episode of television I’ve ever seen. Yet in all three cases, there was a problem: the writers had no idea where to go from there. (“Breaking Bad” actually made this sort of thing its stock in trade; one of the main selling points of the show is that the writers would pull these sorts of massive game-changers constantly and follow the consequences to their logical and often brutal conclusions.)

In “Justified’s” case, they frantically tried to ratchet things back to the status quo, resulting in a mostly entertaining but sloppy season 5, and the show never fully righted itself until season 6. “Sherlock” did the same thing (twice, in fact), and even more sloppily; unlike “Justified” it never fully recovered despite a couple of good outlier episodes stuck between some real disasters.

“Death Note” is an interesting case. While it did accept and work with its new status quo, this caused a different problem: The new status quo simply wasn’t as interesting as the old one.

The problem with killing off L is that L was the hero. The writers put a hell of a lot of work and thought into L. After the Lind L. Taylor scene, we’re already impressed with him (Light’s “This could have been interesting if you were just a little smarter” is a great line). We watch as Light alters his actions in an attempt to throw L off his trail, and how L figures things out and reacts accordingly. We meet him, see his habits, his personality, the way he moves and thinks and eats. We see him take enormous risks and watch as he very carefully and slowly, but inexorably, tightens his net around Kira.

And we watch him die. We watch him lose.

This was a great episode…and this was where Death Note lost people. Because it lead to a lot of problems.

You see, everyone wanted L to win. And when L dies, we cut to…4 years later.

4 years later? So it was all for nothing? His work went nowhere?

And then we’re introduced to Near and Mello, or as I like to call them, punchable L and crazy L.

Near is left, Light is center, Mello is right

Near and Mello are introduced to us as L’s successors, but everything about them falls flat. Near is – and I don’t know how else to put this – just a terrible character. He looks and acts like L, except that he doesn’t do anything. L was active, he took risks, he threw himself directly into an epic mental battle with Kira. L put absolutely everything on the line. Near just sits there and works out stuff through a computer, then acts all cocky about it. He’s like L if L was lame.

Mello is actually, in his own way, an interesting character, but the way he’s used is just terrible. He’s supposed to be the “active” side of L in contrast to Near’s “intellectual” side, but the writers use him as a plot device who occasionally shows up, wreaks havoc, then completely disappears for long stretches of time. What is he doing? How is he running his own investigation? We don’t know and don’t get any explanations for silly things like him getting access to an actual missile. And he’d be a somewhat sympathetic antihero (though not nearly enough to make up for L’s death) if we didn’t see him straight up murder almost the entirety of Near’s task force for no reason other than spite.

The idea the creators had was to make Near and Mello the two different halves of L – Near being the intellectual half and Mello being the half that moves and take action. But this leads to two other problems.

First, splitting L into two halves does nothing but create two distinctly unlikable characters. If L doesn’t make moves and take risks, we don’t respect him, thus Near. And if L is a maniac who acts impulsively and murders people out of spite we don’t like him, thus Mello. You’re sacrificing one great character for two weak ones.

Second, if you’re going to use two “halves” of L solve the mystery anyway…why did you kill off L at all? Why not just use L?

The obvious answer to “How could you have L win the game without making it appear too easy?” is a simple but effective one: L wins, but sacrifices his life to do so. Thus the victory is accomplished with the proper sacrifice. The second Death Note Japanese movie actually accomplishes this in a suitably clever way, and I’d say – hesitatingly – that if it was extended a bit it would probably be superior to the way the anime/manga ended.

There is even a way Near and Mello could have worked. Flash forwarding to four years later was a mistake. It cements the fact that L lost, and again, people need a hero to root for or “Death Note” becomes unpalatable, coasting along solely on the fact that we want the maniac Light to die. And there’s really no way to go through a new investigation without rehashing things we already went through in the first half of the anime. The only way to avoid that is for the plot to become increasingly outlandish and ridiculous. The first half of the anime is expertly plotted. It has nearly no exploitable holes, and any that you can find are so subtle that the odds you’ll even notice them the first time around are extremely low. The second half is so woolly I’m still not entirely convinced the ending even make sense.

For Near and Mello to work, they need to be an extension of L. Once again – L can’t lose. This is very different from saying L can’t DIE. L can definitely die, so long as HIS plan and HIS work leads to Kira’s ultimate defeat. So here’s an idea:

One of my only issues with the first half of the anime is the reaction of the anti-Kira task force following L’s death. L dies IMMEDIATELY after saying he believes the 13 day rule – the rule that if a Death Note is not used for 13 days, the owner will die – is fake. And the shinigami Rem disappears directly after L’s death. So why does the task force not investigate this idea further?

The answer I THINK the anime is trying to get you to buy is that they are starting to believe that L is fixated on Light – that he has been proven conclusively innocent but L refuses to let the idea go. This is the tragedy of L – he KNOWS Light is Kira, but nobody believes him, so it’s clear in the final episode that he knows he’s living on borrowed time: Kira has no reason to keep him alive anymore. He’s been completely cleared. Hence L’s impatience when he realizes he’s hit upon the crucial clue that will unravel the whole thing but the task force is unwilling to test it.

So what if we see L secretly contact Near and Mello before his death, tell them he’s going to die soon, but that the 13 day rule is fake? Then immediately after L’s death we don’t flash forward to four years later but instead see Near and Mello DIRECTLY advancing L’s work, and it is L’s final deductions, and his secret hand-off to Near and Mello, unbeknownst to Light, that ultimately leads to Light’s downfall. If we do this it allows us to more properly accept Near and Mello as true successors and to see L as the ultimate winner of the game, providing the necessary closure to his story – because ending it with his death and the unraveling of all his work is the opposite of closure. It’s moving back to square one. We can hit home even more L’s current involvement in the story if we see Near and Mello having “conversations” with their image of L inside of their head, which allows us to see L’s continued impact even more clearly.

This is speculation, of course, though I think it could work; I’d imagine it would be more simple just to end the whole thing with the end of L’s story.

So that’s my diagnosis: For “Death Note” to work you need a hero, a man to root for, because without that the story is no longer satisfying to watch. If you don’t care about any of the people Light is facing off against, why do you care if Light wins? “Death Note” managed to coast along to its finale on the strength of the promise of Light’s downfall, and even then only barely.

One last thing: I will note that the final two episodes, where L and Near finally have their stand-off, are immensely satisfying, though I must admit to strongly preferring the ending of the manga to the anime. Light doesn’t deserve dignity in death; he deserves to beg. But both versions work fairly well.

To close out my “Death Note” series, I leave you with this surprisingly awesome song from the surprisingly awesome “Death Note” musical; skip to a 1:25 to see the real fun start.

SUPERVERSIVE: Even “Death Note” Needs a Hero published first on http://ift.tt/2zdiasi

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