Finja x Chase angst? 👀
oh dude their whole "relationship" is basically messed up angst lol (despite me often portraying it as cracky angst)
I mean, we have some good angst in Chase pursuing First not because he 'loves/cares about' him, but because he selfishly desires him for his power/sees him as a challenge to get into his Fallen Warriors army. And First having to be constantly on alert against Chase, especially when he behaves like a charming honorable warrior, hiding that cunning manipulative side of him behind amused 'harmless' smiles. I would imagine its hard for First to not start to care about Chase (he can be very charming ;) ) to some degree, so there is like this delicious angst in starting to care about someone with whom morally you would never agree with. (very Prof. X vs Magneto vibe imho)
(this also could lead to some interesting spin-off angst opportunity about First being in the Fallen Warriors Army and just...existing in this weird limbo of being a target of Chase's favorable attention, but still essentially being a servant to his Master so thus really unable to trully care about/love this evil man but he still kinda cares after all these years and, like ooooooh baby thats some scrumptious angst possibility)
Or we can have some angst in form of First, being technically 'moved on'/left only in spirit in this world and Chase, still obsessing over him all these centuries, not even realizing that he is basically pining at this point. Showing up to bother current Ninjas, Ninjanomicon and Spirit of First at every opportunity, but not being able to actually be (in any capacity) with First, besides those very brief reunions. And First, throughout the years, while still being very annoyed about Chase's continuoes presence, also feels... incredibly saddened about this man to some degree. But he still can not falter, for his duty and successors still need him and they take priority, so this weird relationship just continues on.
And like OOOOH BABIES this is just scratching the surface of any possible angst, but these are the ones that are currently circling in my mind (i want to make some comics with these scenarious) so yeah! angst! ;D
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I know a lot of us latched onto Charlock and Colin right off the bat, and they do have the air of holding back wells of history that are very intertwined with the political games of Calorum, which is intriguing and engaging and I'm looking forward to seeing what they're up to during the time jump and beyond, as well as finding out what exactly their webs of intrigue involve.
However, I am also in love with the other three and how much they feel like they're still on the outside of the political games, even if they are ensnared in them.
Amangeaux has been a queen for a span of time, but always a foreigner all the same—she seems cut off from the Vegetanian goings-on, though it's unclear how much that was the case when her husband was alive, and at the same time, she does not fall back onto playing the game when challenged like someone who is more trained in that might.
Karna is a spymaster, yes, and seems plenty knowledgeable about webs of information and the world's cruelty, but she's still a child. She does not have a large pool of experience to draw on, and she has never seen the scale of conflict that is coming up close. She most of them all believes that she does understand conflict and political games, while also believing herself above it, but at the end of the day, she is too young to truly understand the war that is coming.
Deli is the child of a leader of a nation, but that nation is viewed still as an outsider among those nations who consider themselves more civilized, and he is very trusting in spite of the training that he has been brought up in. He's an adult, but he exhibits a similar amount of naivete as the Rocks twins will twenty years from now, as heirs to kingdoms who are eager to make their own way and find freedom, without fully understanding the weight of responsibility that is settling upon them.
All of these characters exhibit varying degrees and kinds of innocence and naivete, and at the end of the day, for all of the comedy of the concept, this is a war story. War stories, particularly ones about how the world changes in times of war, require a certain amount of naivete, in order to contrast how brutal the world can become against what is lost in the process.
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“Here’s what happened, okay. We were on a date with Clebert—”
“It’s not a date.”
“—and, and Etho walks by and she, she looks at him, she’s like whoa.”
“She just catcalls him, like woohoo!”
“Woo!”
“I’m out, yeah!”
“You got it wrong, me and Etho are besties! We’re not—we’re not—it’s not romantic.”
They’re not sure why it feels so important.
It’s not that Cleo has ever really—well, that’s not quite—they’ve never argued about it before, is the thing. Like—with Bdubs. With Bdubs, right, people had—they’d assumed. It’s what people do. Even Scott, and Scott is—Scott is Scott. He knows about these sorts of things. And even he…
“Bdubs is your ride or die, Jimmy’s mine, he’s my husband, and he’s with them, so I’m kind of—but I don’t ever want to fight you.”
“If Bdubs betrays me—if our husbands die, yeah?”
Husband. Because that was the word Scott had been using, for Jimmy, and Bdubs had been Cleo’s Jimmy, in a way, so it had—it had made sense. Use the same words for the same thing. And then—being married is kind of a funny bit, isn’t it? So later, when Bdubs and Impulse had been lying to them—
“Bdubs, I know we’re divorced and you’re with Impulse now, but did you really think you could lie to me?”
And whilst Cleo’s not sure they put too much stock in Ren’s claims as to what he’d caught Bdubs and Impulse doing in the woods, they know that whatever those two had going on wasn’t quite the same. They’d said it was, but they hadn’t really meant it. Not really. Marriage—marriage is a funny bit, really, is all it is.
After all, last season, with Etho—being divorced is also a funny bit.
“I’m not calling you wife.”
“You can call me Cleo!”
He still doesn’t call them wife. Still calls them Cleo. Calls them bestie, now, too, ironic grin beneath his mask. Etho’s not too big on PDA, either, which is—nice. Not that Cleo doesn’t like it, it’s just—
“It’s platonic,” they insist to Tango, to Skizz, and see their eyes sparkle. They don’t get it. They don’t get it, and it makes Cleo’s skin crawl, because—
Cleo’s loyal, is the thing. When they say ride or die, when they say allies, when they say husband or soulmate or my boys—they mean it. If you’re theirs, you’re theirs, and that means everything.
But it doesn’t mean—
Romance is a funny bit. It’s a like a costume, really. Pull it on, pull it off, kiss and hold hands and sleep in the same bed and say your vows for the fun of it. Then shrug it off at the end of the day and go back to being friends. There’s no—they don’t feel any of those sappy things, really. It’s not them. Sure, Cleo loves people, loves their friends, but not—like that. They don’t want anything to do with any of that. The aesthetic of it, the performance of it, the drama of it? They’ll take it. But they’ll leave the rest. The mushy, goopy, complicated feelings soup part of it—that’s not theirs. Other people can deal with that. Cleo will be off dealing with better things.
It’s—it’s like being a woman, really, in that Cleo doesn’t really mind that people see them that way—plays into it, really, loves the aesthetic, has fun with the performance—but they don’t really feel it. And they don’t mind that other people don’t exactly understand—
Until they step too close, say something Cleo really doesn’t like the sound of, and then they’re snapping, “I’m not a woman,” with such force it makes the perpetrator flinch.
It’s the same thing, this, Tango and Skizz stepping too close to their toes, getting in their personal space, and it bubbles up out of them before they can stop it. It’s platonic. We’re platonic. And the fact that other people aren’t seeing that—
It itches. Prickles. Stifles. Hugs their bones like an ill-fitting coat.
It’s one thing to wear a costume, to put on a show—but Cleo will not be stuffed into a suit without their permission and put up on a stage to read a script they never had any intention of performing.
“We’re just besties, we’re not in a romantic relationship,” they tell Tango. He blinks at them, and they can see that the words don’t quite go in—
It itches.
Maybe if Cleo makes being besties the new bit, the itch will stop bothering them quite so much.
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