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suddencolds · 5 months

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The Worst Timing | [1/?]

hello!! I've been wanting to write a longer h/c fic for awhile. This is the exposition/first installment to that (4.8k words).

this is an OC fic - here is a list of everything I've written for these two!

Summary: Yves invites Vincent to a wedding, in France, where the rest of his family will be in attendance. It's a very important wedding, so he's definitely not going to let anything—much less the flu—ruin it. (ft. fake dating, an international trip, downplaying illness, sharing a hotel room)

—

“A wedding,” Vincent repeats.

“Yes,” Yves says. “A wedding.”

It’s his cousin Aimee’s wedding—she’s four years older than he is. Back when he’d gone with his family back to France over the summers, she’d been one of the people he’d grown quickly to look up to—someone who knew the ins and outs, it seemed, to every stage of life he was in the process of stumbling through.

Yves has always been used to being looked up to—one of the natural consequences, perhaps, of being the eldest in his immediate family—and he likes to think that he’s good at giving off the impression that he has things figured out. But he’d grown close to Aimee at their family reunions precisely because she was everything he tried to be: strong-willed and resilient, self-sufficient even in the face of hardship.

Aimee’s getting married to Genevieve—someone who Yves has only met a couple times, but who manages to be one of the sweetest people he’s ever met. All in all, it’s a wedding he wouldn’t miss under any circumstances.

Leon, his brother, and Victoire, his sister, will be there, along with Aimee’s friends and the rest of his extended family. The problem is that Leon keeps in touch with Mikhail. Mikhail let slip that Yves has been seeing Vincent. Leon told Victoire, who told Aimee. And now Aimee is offering to pay for Vincent’s plane ticket to their wedding in France in the spring—a bit of a last minute arrangement, but she’d sounded so excited at the prospect that Yves was finally seeing someone new (“I’d love to meet him,” she’d said over the phone, “would it be too much to ask him to take a couple days off work? Oh my gosh, please give me his contact details, I’ll send him an invitation,” and she’d sounded so excited about it that he hadn’t had it in him to turn her down).

“It’s very last minute,” he says, “but my cousin’s getting married, and she really wants to meet you. It’ll be some time in early March, in Provence. She says she’ll pay for your flight, if you want to go, but you’d probably have to take a couple days off.”

“Oh,” Vincent says, blinking at him. “And you want me to be there?”

“Of course I do,” Yves says. “I think it’s more a question of whether you want to be there.”

Vincent looks back at him, his expression carefully blank. “Are you sure you want to introduce me to your family? That doesn’t seem like the kind of thing that you’d take lightly.”

“They want to meet you,” Yves says. “And I wouldn’t mind introducing you. I think they would really like you.”

“It would be a waste of your time,” Vincent says, quietly, “to introduce me as someone you’re serious about if we’re just planning to break things off.”

Yves is well aware of the fact. This arrangement with Vincent—the trust he places in Vincent; the practiced familiarity, the feigned intimacy—has an expiration date. The fact that he doesn’t know when the expiration date is doesn’t change the fact that it will, inevitably, end—when Erika gets the point, or fades from Yves’s life entirely; when Vincent finds someone he considers worthy of pursuing in actuality; when either of them become interested in dating again. Whatever it is that ends up ending things, Yves knows: what he has with Vincent right now is strictly temporary.

Perhaps it would be disingenuous to lie to his family about who exactly Vincent is to him. But then again, Yves thinks it isn’t much worse than any other relationship, with all of its ups and downs, all its hopes and uncertainties. It’s not like he can ever guarantee that a relationship is certain to work out, no matter how serious he feels about it in the moment. So is there really any harm to introducing Vincent as his current partner—as someone he feels certain about now, but maybe not always—and to leave it at that?

“It’s not really going to be my day, in the first place,” Yves says. “My relationship status is more of a conversation starter than anything. And even if you go by the timeline we told Erika, we haven’t even been together for a year. I don’t think my family will think much of it other than, like, a small and noncommittal window into what I’ve been up to. So it’s really up to you.”

“I think it would be fun,” Vincent says, “though only if you’re sure about having me there.”

“Great. I’m sure,” Yves says. “Everyone will love you.” He does think it’s true. Something about Vincent tends to have that effect, he thinks.

—

The fact that he and Vincent are traveling together is not exactly a secret.

Vincent agrees it’s best shared on a need-to-know basis—they won’t be the ones to bring it up, but if someone asks about it, they’ll answer honestly. It would be more work, Yves thinks, to have to coordinate lies about this.

But he runs into trouble not even two weeks later.

“So you and Vincent are taking the week off,” Cara says to him carefully, over lunch.

“Yes,” Yves says.

“Any plans?”

“I’m actually flying to France,” Yves tells her, uncertain about whether or not he should mention Vincent’s involvement—if Vincent has talked to Cara about this already, there’s no point in hiding anything, but he should be careful with the information he discloses otherwise. “One of my cousins is getting married there.”

“Oh,” Cara says, all too knowingly. “What a coincidence. Vincent told me he’s also planning on going to France.”

“I… heard,” Yves says, slowly. “He’s told me as much.”

“I didn’t realize France was such a popular tourist destination for march,” Cara says, smiling at him. “I thought most people went over the summer.”

“You know what they say,” Yves says. “France’s beauty knows no seasons.”

“You should ask Vincent which part of France he’s visiting,” Cara says, with a smirk. “Maybe you guys can book a hotel together.”

Yves is positive he’s being laughed at. “It’s the third largest country in Europe,” he says. “I’m sure the chance of us ending up in the same region is statistically very low.”

“I think Cara knows we’re fake dating,” he laments to Vincent later, in the break room. “I mean, the dating part, not the fake part.”

Vincent blinks at him. “Did you tell her?”

“No,” Yves says. He doesn’t think they’ve been that obvious about it. “I just told her I was going to France. She made some undue assumptions.”

“Oh,” Vincent says. “I told her I was attending a wedding there.”

An impromptu trip to France, over the same week at the tail end of busy season, to attend a wedding. Separately. Yves is starting to understand where Cara's suspicions might’ve come from.

“That would do it,” he says.

Perhaps they really need to coordinate what a need-to-know basis means. Cara is, thankfully, not the type of person to gossip, from what Yves has gathered, but if their coworkers know, that could complicate things. “I don’t think she’ll say anything,” he says. “But I’m sorry. I didn’t think she’d assume.”

Vincent seems to consider this. “It’s fine,” he says. “Though it might prove troublesome when we decide to end things.”

“We can figure that out when it happens,” Yves says.

At some point in the foreseeable future, everything will go back to how it’s always been. Yves had been fine on his own for a long time before he’d met Erika. He’s sure he’ll be prepared for it when it happens.

—

The entire drive to the airport feels surreal.

Mikhail drives them. They leave at the crack of dawn—4am, on the dot. Victoire’s in the passenger seat, dozing off, and Leon, Vincent, and Yves are crammed into the backseat.

Yves sits in the middle—there’s not much leg room to go around in the first place, but he tries to take up as little space as possible, mostly for Vincent’s sake. He and Leon have been crammed into far smaller cars on far longer road trips.

Leon says, “This is the earliest in the morning I’ve ever third wheeled.”

Victoire, who has her eyes shut, says, “It’s very nice to meet you, Vincent.”

“Likewise,” Vincent says.

“Yves has told us all about you,” Leon says.

“Oh,” Vincent says, blinking. “What has he said about me?”

“Mostly that you’re super hot,” Leon says. Yves, who is in a perfect position to elbow him, elbows him for that.

“You make me sound so shallow,” Yves says.

“But also that you’re really good at your job,” Leon continues, patting Yves on the leg. “Did you know Yves likes people who he’s slightly intimidated by?”

“I never said that,” Yves says.

“It’s pretty obvious,” Mikhail says.

“You guys are conspiring against me,” Yves says, and Vincent laughs.

Leon launches into a series of questions—about how they met, about who asked who out first, about what it’s like at work, about what kinds of things Vincent does for fun.

“No wonder Yves is totally whipped,” Leon says, after Vincent finishes telling a story about how he’d given a presentation at a conference in place of his then-boss, who had—due to unforeseen flight delays—found out last minute that she wouldn’t have been able to make it on time. Yves hasn’t heard this story before, but it doesn’t surprise him that Vincent would be able to pull that sort of thing off, even with such paralyzingly short notice. “You’re exactly his type.”

Just great. If anyone could dig a nice, fitting grave for him over the span of one conversation, Yves thinks, it would be younger brother.

“I can’t believe he hasn’t invited you over for dinner yet,” Victoire says, her eyes still closed. How much of this conversation she’s actually been awake for, Yves can’t say.

She makes Yves promise that, after their trip to France, Vincent will be over for dinner. (“Sure,” Vincent says. “Just tell me the date in advance. I’ll clear my schedule.” Yves will have to apologize to him after this—for some reason, Vincent has an uncanny talent for ending up invited to half the things Yves is personally involved in.)

Yves is awake enough to hold a conversation, but he finds himself yawning mid-sentence on more than a few occasions. Vincent doesn’t so much as yawn at all over the entirety of the car ride. Yves has no idea if he’s always up this early, or if he’s just naturally immune to tiredness—another signature of his good genetics, next to the fact that he looks like he’s just stepped out of a photoshoot, or the fact that he manages to look good in everything he wears. Some people just win the genetic lottery, Yves supposes.

For some reason, he finds he feels a little more tired than usual. Waking up early is never easy, but usually he’d be distinctly more alert by now. There’s a strange, uncharacteristic heaviness to his limbs—it’s the kind of grogginess he only experiences when he hasn’t been getting enough sleep for awhile.

It’s fine. They have an eight hour flight ahead of them—they’ll be flying into Marseille, and then being driven up to Provence, where the wedding will be taking place. He can catch up on sleep over the flight.

As they’re unloading the suitcases from the back trunk, Vincent says, “Your family’s nice.”

Yves laughs. “I’m relieved they haven’t scared you off yet. Sorry for the… well, interrogation, by the way.”

“I can tell you’re close to them,” Vincent says, a little more quietly.

When Yves looks over, something about Vincent’s smile looks almost wistful. Yves wonders, briefly, how well Vincent has kept up with his own family. If he’d ever been packed into the backseat of a small car, back when he’d lived in Korea; if over some long road trip, he’d ever had to come up with increasingly inventive ways to pass the time. If his relatives ever teased him, then, about the crushes he’d had when he was younger, or anything else. If the ocean that was suddenly between them came with another, less tangible kind of distance, the kind that even phone calls and international flights can never quite bridge.

Yves doesn’t know. He doesn’t even know how he’d go about asking if he wanted to know. How is it that sometimes, he feels like he knows so much about Vincent, but other times, he feels like he knows almost nothing at all?

—

Aimee has booked him a seat next to Vincent.

They’re a few rows away from the others—I wanted to seat everyone together, Aimee had texted him a few weeks back, but when I was booking Vincent’s ticket, the seats up front were all sold out, so I just moved you so you’d be sitting next to him.

Now, he watches as Vincent pushes his briefcase gingerly into the overhead compartment.

“You must not be new to flying,” he says.

Vincent nods. “I’m not.”

“Eight more hours,” Yves says, taking the middle seat so that Vincent doesn’t have to. “It’ll be over in no time, especially if you take a nap.”

“I have some work to get done,” Vincent says. “Only after the plane takes off, though.”

Right—no electronics larger than a cell phone until they’re 30,000 feet in the air. “I thought this was supposed to be your week off.”

“It is,” Vincent says. “I just want to make sure everything’s still in one piece by the time I get back.”

Yves has never quite been comfortable on planes. It’s not that he’s afraid of flying, or that the turbulence bothers him—it’s more just the cramped space, the noise, the anticipation, the discomfort—all of it compounds. It’s usually difficult to get to sleep, but he’s so tired right now that maybe this flight will be an exception.

There’s just one problem: whoever is in charge of the air conditioning in the airplane cabin really hates him. Compared to Provence, New York’s climate is generally more extreme—colder in the winters, hotter in the summers—so all he has on him right now is a thin jacket. It’d be perfectly reasonable attire in most situations, except for the fact that this airplane in particular is unusually frigid. It’s definitely cold enough to be distinctly uncomfortable, especially considering that he’s just sitting in place. Yves crosses his arms, suppressing a shiver.

“Do you think Aimee will be convinced?” Vincent asks.

“Convinced?”

“That we’re together.”

“I’m sure she has better things to do than play detective over the state of my relationships,” Yves says, with a laugh. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

“It’s why you invited me,” Vincent says, “is it not?”

“Pardon?”

“To show the rest of your family that you’re not still hung up over Erika.”

“I invited you for a lot of reasons,” Yves says. “For one, you’re good company.”

“So are all your friends.”

“I thought we could both use a week off,” Yves adds. “It’s France, in the springtime. What could be better?”

Vincent says, “I need you to tell me what to do.”

“What?”

“Your cousin paid for my flight,” he lists, counting off his fingers. “Your family is paying for the hotel. Your best friend drove me to the airport.” He says these things as if he’s listing off all the ways in which he’s indebted to them. “It’d be easiest for both of us if you told me how to make a good impression. That’s what I’m here for, right?”

Yves blinks. “I don’t think you’d need my help to make a good impression.”

“You could’ve taken anyone with you, but you’re taking me,” Vincent presses. “There has to be something you need me for.”

If there was nothing, you wouldn’t have invited me. The sentiment hangs between them, unspoken. But Yves can see it in Vincent’s expression.

“My favorite cousin is getting married,” Yves says, fervently. “To her fiancee—who is also super cool, by the way. My whole family is going to be there. Do you think I’d choose to endure an eight hour plane ride sitting next to someone I didn’t like?”

“Maybe,” Vincent says.

Yves shakes his head. “It’s true that my family wants to meet you. But if I didn’t want you to come to France with me, I could’ve come up with an excuse.”

He twists around in his seat so that he’s facing Vincent directly. Narrowly resists the urge to reach out and grab Vincent’s hand. “I like spending time with you. I wouldn’t have invited you if I didn’t. You don’t have to do anything out of the ordinary—if you have fun on this trip, that’s more than enough.”

Vincent stares back at him, his eyes wide.

Yves has a feeling he’s said too much. It isn’t Vincent’s fault for assuming this is all just for show, considering everything that’s come before. Part of it is, but another part of him just really wants Vincent to have fun—to take in the sights at the gorgeous venue Aimee’s sent him pictures of, to have a week off in one of the most picturesque countrysides in the world (Yves may be slightly biased, but still) and not have to think too hard about impressing everyone.

“Is that… okay with you?” Yves asks.

“Yes,” Vincent says. “It’s just unexpected.”

“Which part?”

“All of it.”

“Oh. Well. I’m sorry if I misled you, or anything.”

“You didn’t.” This time, Vincent really does smile—a sly, quicksilver thing. “For the record, I am very excited to go to your cousin’s wedding.”

“Thank god,” Yves says. “That’s good. I was beginning to think I was holding you hostage.”

He leans back into his seat, suppressing another shiver. Something about the changing pressure in the airplane cabin is making his head start to ache. It’s probably the elevation. Perhaps he should try to sleep just so that he doesn’t have to sit for eight hours with a headache brewing.

He shuts his eyes and tries. It’s no use. He’s tired, and the cabin is quiet enough, but it’s too cold to get to sleep—it feels impossible to get comfortable like this.

So he picks up a novel he’d been meaning to get to—something suspenseful, to offset the monotony of the flight.

When the seatbelt sign flickers off, Vincent unclips his seatbelt so that he can retrieve his briefcase from one of the overhead compartments, and spends the next half hour paging through multiple documents and leaving notes in the margins at a dizzying pace. Yves slinks down lower into his seat, trying hard not to shiver.

“Is it just me, or is it kind of cold in here?”

Vincent frowns at him in a concerned way that seems to suggest that it really is just him. Then again, Vincent is unfazed by New York’s cold winters, so Yves isn’t sure he’s the best point of reference.

“Do you need my jacket?” he asks.

“No,” Yves says quickly. “It’s not that bad.”

“Okay,” Vincent says. “If you’re certain.”

He turns his attention back to the screen, and Yves resigns himself to reading—or, more accurately, trying and failing to read. It’s mercilessly cold, and his head hurts enough to make focusing on any one thing an uncomfortable task. He gets through another couple chapters, finds himself rereading the same passage over and over again, and—finally, defeated—dog-ears the page and slides the book into the pocket attached to the seat in front of him.

The next time the flight attendants come around, Vincent says something to one of them Yves can’t quite make out. Yves asks for orange juice—it’s not supposed to be symbolic, or anything, but on the off-chance that this headache ends up being a precursor to something more unpleasant, he thinks it might be wise.

The flight attendant pours him the orange juice he’s asked for—no ice (right now, something ice cold is the last thing he needs)—and sets it down on the tray table in front of him. Yves stares down at it, blinking. He hasn’t eaten all day, but strangely, he doesn’t have much of an appetite.

He doesn’t register the flight attendant from before—the one Vincent talked to—is back until he hears Vincent’s quiet “thanks” to his left.

Something brushes against his arm.

He looks up. It’s one of those travel blankets they sometimes carry, neatly folded, though this flight hadn’t given them out to everyone at the start. They must be reserved—given only upon request, maybe.

“You said you were cold,” Vincent—who’s holding out the blanket for him—says, by way of explanation.

Yves blinks at him. He’s about to reassure Vincent, instinctively, that it’s not that cold—that he would’ve been fine without the blanket, that Vincent didn’t have to go out of his way to ask for one.

But his head hurts. He hasn’t been warm all flight. To say that the blanket is a relief would be a massive understatement.

“Thanks,” he says, taking it. “This is perfect. I won’t be cold with this.”

He ends up wrapping the blanket around his shoulders, pulling it tightly around him—like a cloak, or like the jacket that he might have brought with him if he’d had the foresight to anticipate feeling this cold on a commercial flight.

It’s nice. He’s still a little cold, with the blanket, but it’s enough to keep him from openly shivering.

He should really try to get some sleep, he thinks. It’s going to be evening in France when they land. A seat away from him, the window shutters are pulled up, but he can see, from the crevices around the window, that it’s light out.

“I’m going to try to nap,” he tells Vincent. “But wake me up if I need anything—elbow me if you have to. I’m not usually a heavy sleeper.”

“Okay,” Vincent says. “I’ll try not to wake you.”

“You can wake me whenever,” Yves says, muffling a yawn into his hand. “Don’t work too hard.”

Vincent smiles at him, the kind of smile that implies he thinks he’s working exactly as hard as he should be. “No promises.”

It’s not easy to get to sleep, despite his exhaustion. He lays there for a while, his eyes shut—it’s certainly warmer with the blanket, but for some reason, he feels strangely restless. Maybe it’s the adrenaline of being here, with his family, with Vincent—on the way to see one of the most important people in his life get married. Maybe it’s the cup of black coffee he’d downed this morning to be awake enough to help Mikhail navigate and, subsequently, awake enough to actually be useful at the airport.

In the end, he falls asleep to the static hum of the aircraft, to the sound of Vincent hammering away at his keyboard next to him, incessant and comforting.

—

Yves wakes to someone tapping him on the shoulder.

“Sorry,” he says. “I’m up.”

“A ‘light sleeper,’ you said,” Vincent says. “We just landed.”

Yves says, “I’m wide awake.” The yawn that he hides behind one hand is apparently not subtle enough, because when Vincent looks away from him in favor of staring straight ahead, it looks like he’s trying not to laugh.

Vincent’s stowed away his laptop already—Yves hopes that’s a sign that he’s done with work for the duration of this trip, but more likely he just had to put it away for landing.

“How was the flight for you?” Yves says.

Vincent looks at him. “Uneventful,” he says, at last.

“Not enthralled by all the financial records you had to go through?”

“They were very enthralling. How was your nap?”

“Good,” Yves says, even though he doesn’t feel particularly rested. He’s just groggy, probably, and the headache is just as bad as it was, if not worse. He’s sure once he gets off the plane and gets some fresh air, he’ll feel much better. “I probably needed it.” His breath hitches, unexpectedly, he turns to the side, raising his arm to his face to shield the oncoming—

“hH-’IZscHH’iew!”

The sneeze is loud, embarrassingly, and it scrapes unpleasantly against his throat, which feels… off.

“Bless you,” Vincent says, frowning. He looks more concerned than he has any right to be.

Yves flashes Vincent a distracted smile. “Thanks.”

Everything—from the moment they step off the plane—is exhaustingly hectic.

The hotel in Provence is more than an hour away from the airport they’ve landed at. They have a bus to catch, which means that after they regroup with the others, it’s international customs, baggage claim, and then they’re headed, maneuvering multiple suitcases each, onto the bus. He sits next to Vincent, though on the aisle side, so that he can lean over and interject whenever Leon and Victoire say something that’s worth commenting on.

Other than that, he talks with Vincent, mostly—about Aimee, about how she’s been in his life for longer than he’s known how to write his name, back when his parents would take him back to France once or twice a year. (“She was practically an older sister to me,” he says, “except we never fought,” to which Vincent says, “You make it sound like not getting along is a requirement to be siblings,” to which Yves says, “It definitely is.”)

His parents flew into France yesterday, so they should be settled in already—they’ll catch up with them at the hotel tonight, if it’s not too late. He probably won’t see Aimee and Genevieve until tomorrow morning, at breakfast—and even then, that depends on how busy they are with the various wedding preparations Aimee’s been telling him about.

The roads nearing the hotel are uneven and winding. Halfway through the drive, Yves registers, faintly, that he isn’t really feeling any better from before. His head is still hurting from the flight, and when he swallows, he finds his throat feels perhaps the slightest bit sore.

He’s cold, too, in the sort of uncomfortable, persistent way that’s difficult to alleviate, even with extra layers or with a warm drink. He’s starting to suspect that maybe the airplane cabin hadn’t been the problem after all.

None of that is particularly visible to any of the others—that is, until he finds himself tensing up halfway through a sentence, burying his head into the crook of his elbow as his eyes squeeze shut—

“God, sorry, I— hh-! hHehh’iiZZSCHh’iiEW!”

“Bless you,” Vincent, Victoire, and Leon say to him, all at once.

“You’d better not be getting sick,” Leon says, turning to him, with the sort of tone that implies that he’s joking. “That would really be the worst timing.”

“I’m not,” Yves says, swallowing against the soreness in his throat. “I promise.” Or, perhaps more accurately—he can’t be.

It will be the perfect wedding, he thinks. Aimee has planned it out meticulously, and she’s one of the most thorough people he knows. The weather forecast says this week will be sunny and temperate. He’s here, in France. Tomorrow, he’ll be surrounded by his extended family, and in the afternoon he and Vincent will head off to the welcome party, and he’ll get to give Aimee the gifts he’s gotten for her and introduce Vincent to everyone formally. Everything will go as planned—the welcome party, the wedding rehearsal, the rehearsal dinner, and on Saturday, the wedding and the vows.

It will be perfect, because it has to be. Yves will be present, and attentive, and he’ll give the speech he has prepared at Aimee’s wedding, and they’ll all remember this week fondly. Even considering the small, almost negligible chance that he’s coming down with something, there are more important things he has to worry about right now, which is to say: Yves is going to do this right.

He’s going to make sure of it.

[ Part 2 ]

#sneeze fic #snz fic #sneeze kink #snz kink #snz #i'm sorry if this exposition is like #comparatively uneventful 😭😭😭#this entire fic was written with the intent of giving people-pleaser yves the worst time possible #so i promise that is to come... in the future (if i have the time and bandwidth to write more and if people want to read more)#yvverse #my fic #fun fact - i used to refuse to write characters with anything worse than a cold (the flu included) just as principle #clearly that changed over the years haha

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icewindandboringhorror · 3 months

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I have a big google doc thing where I keep track of media and stuff (putting everything in loosely ranked categories), which is mostly just for my own reference so I know what tv shows I've already seen before, etc. and I never really look back through it, typically just a quick "okay, watched two movie in the past 8 months, need to quickly slap them somewhere in the lists. okay. done. save document. exit". But today I was actually reading through some of the old notes and there are like... MULTIPLE places where my comment is basically "It would have been good if it were about elves" or "I wish there was a fantasy show made in this same style" or "It's well made, but I just keep thinking about how I would like it more if everyone was an elf or was in old 1700s costumes" or etc like...... lol.... Most biased media ranking system on earth blatantly made by someone with an extremely hyperspecific range of narrow interests. It'd be like if a food reviewer only had 5 foods they actually liked, so they'd just go to a pizza place and be like "eh, the pizza was okay, but I just think it would be better if it was cereal instead. :/ ...2 out of 10"

#Which.. I mean... I am allowed to be biased because literally it's just for my own personal reference (or occasionall #y to send to friends or something if we're discussing the topic) so like.. nowhere am I saying 'I am the god of perfect taste and these #rankings are objectively the absolute truth and everyone should have my same opinion' or anything #BUT still.. it's funny to me sometimes #'Succession would be 100x better if it had the same cast/character quirks and shaky camera style and #acting choices/weird dialogue and general concept etc. EXCEPT it takes place within an elven noble family or something #managing the family business and everyone is in fantasy costumes now'' like.....okay...... but it's NOT that way..soo... thats not the show #''I like the acting style/general tone of Fleabag but i don't care for any of the characters or any of the subject matter and I wish it was #set in the 1800s and had vampires and was about magic instead'' okay..... again... you are making up an entirely new show in that case lol #OR my other beloved typical complaint ''The concept is good but theres too much plot and action and not enough people just sitting #around doing nothing and exposition dumping world and character lore'' ''this needs more goofy sideplots and filler episodes''#''this Drama was too dramatic I think it should be more lighthearted & people need to sit around doing nothing just being weird more often'#''the Action Movie was ok except for the action scenes - which I skipped through all of- but I liked the costumes and worldbuilding'' etc.#ERM sorry your plot has too much plot. also elves have to be included somehow. bye #BUT SERIOUSLY!!!!!! I literally genuinely believe that any show I like (or even dislike) could ALWAYS be improved greatly by #putting people in fantasy or historical costume/setting/etc... why the FUNK would I want to see bland jeans and cars and cell phones #when I could see elaborate velvet cloaks and fantastical landscapes and interior design and innovative takes on historical or #magical technology or etc. etc. etc. I LIVE in the modern day. I see it all the time!!! BORING! stinky!! boo!!!#ANYWAY... another social divide for me.. People love to bond by discussing media. which is hard when I'm like #'I literally will not watch something at all unless it fits into one of these 10 extremely specific categories which are all i care about i #the entire world''.. I say this and yet I still dislike most fantasy or historical things I've watched lol. ok TWO main criteria then!!#it must 1. be in a different world or time period. 2. be goofy silly. Nothing ever has BOTH. It's always overly serious boring drama action #fantasy/history stuff OR it's comedic lighthearted but with modern day characters... WHY.. anguish and woe and so on..#ANYWAY jhjnk... at least I can make that divide. Some people seem to project their own personal preferences and get really emotionally #defensive if you say you didn't like something - as if the fact that they DO like it is some Objective Truth or something rather than just #opinion/preference based. I can still easily say ''this is well made/well written/acted/good in a technical sense/has a lot of #points of appeal that most people would be drawn to/etc'' and admit that it's a GOOD show probably. I just PERSONALLY think its #bad because my tastes are very narrow. Some things ARE actually made badly but. things are not bad INHERENTLY just bc they dont suit ME lol #Better to recognize/accept whats odd about you and be peacefully aware of it than just being mad at everyone all the time for not fully #agreeing with you even when you're the one with the Weird opinion in that case lol.. I am right though :3 but.. lol... still. i get it

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liameowlia · 3 days

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just watched the first episode of dead boy detectives and, let me tell you, there must be some odd thing connecting me to ghost netflix series...

#dead boy detectives #julie and the phantoms #lockwood & co #btw was i the only one that thought “wow the start of this episode played out the same way lockwood & co's first episode huh”#am i the only one that thought this episode was rlly rushed?#still liked it though #and the dialogue feels like too much exposition #but maybe i'm just being picky and difficult #sorry

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existentialflirt · 8 months

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She really did try not to be a victim, but it was hard to be a human in a world full of monsters. Growing up on the Hellmouth had made her a bit more resilient than most. For example, she knew not to wander around at night alone in high heels. It had been a long time since she'd lived in heels, though. These days she preferred flats and sneakers. They were easier to run in.

Like now. She'd gotten a rare prescient vision and had been able to identify the group of vampires lurking about an alley near the convenience store store she'd been heading toward. So much for getting a box of rosé and staying in to watch shitty rom coms that got problematic by the year. Cordy crossed the street but they must of scented her, vamps were freaky like that, and began to follow. A brisk walk became a light jog, turned into a sprint. She wondered why they weren't running after her after a block and dared to look behind her.

Someone was fighting the group. Not Angel, not even Wes. From her viewpoint, she saw a whirlwind of feet and fists. Definitely a Slayer. Buffy? Cordy frowned. Usually it was a bit fucking deal when she came to L.A., mostly to brace Angel or keep him away, and she hadn't gotten a call from any of the Sccobs that Buffy would be visiting the city.

When the dust had literally settled, Cordy's curiosity turned to irritation as she walked back toward the dark haired woman who was brushing streaks of vampire ash off her leather pants. (She rolled her eyes. Honestly, who wore leather pants anymore? Well, she supposed, Faith did.)

"I don't mean to be ungrateful or whatever, but what the hell are you doing here?" She cast a vaguely disapproving look over her outfit. Unfortunately, having a dire sense of fashion looked really good on her.

for @wickedlehane 💗Cordy

#wickedlehane #MAIN v.2 | There's a black moon tonight shining down on the western neon lights (A:TS vibes mostly)#;I put my high heels on so I'm closer to God (ch: Cordelia Chase)#gestures vaguely at the angel series #sorry it's a little hefty #but sometimes I like exposition

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echowilds · 8 months

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asura appreciation: day two

leikkya (again)

her involvement with the inquest started young - so young in fact, that she cannot remember a time before. she lived inside a large inquest facility, that was home to the majority of their long-term experiments on live subjects. as such, the focus ranged from medical research to social and psychological studies, some projects lasting decades. this meant, that a large number of of their prisoners weren't expendable and it was expected of all scientists to keep their subjects alive and well (within project parameters of course) until the conclusion of all experiments they were a part of.

as it was crucial to some studies, the prisoners were allowed to have their own small society - although all under heavy monitoring of a specialised inquest krewe, with set conditions and rules that were to be obeyed at all times and their schedules being micro-managed to hell and back. many, who, like leikkya, were raised within that system, couldn't see the issues with it, as they never knew anything different.

leikkya herself was a subject in a few different projects, most notably in one researching the impact free unbound magic exposure had on body and mind, if given at a steady rate over long periods of time. she was lucky to be among the group given only small doses and didn't have notable lasting difficulties from it.... aside from her elemental magic deteriorating to the point of having 'dried up' completely at the age of 12. although examined and researched thoroughly, no way to reverse that change had been found by the scientists in the complex.

not long after, the facility got taken down by peacemakers, despite it's sheer size and high security. through the fearless tenacity of a group of journalists, the public had been made aware that in order to keep up with the demand for subjects, the acquisitions krewe of the complex had started kidnapping asuran progeny in recent years (as opposed to simply taking 'donated' unwanted children and orphans of the poorer districts). the public outcry in rata sum was immense and spread far too quickly among the population - the arcane council and it's eye couldn't simply shove this under a rug.

luckily for them, the identities of the many prisoners were kept secret and not even a single holo was revealed to the public unless the individual chose to do so themselves. where possible, people would be returned to their families or given back to their respective government. these efforts were hampered significantly by the fact that very little data on biological relations was kept for this exact reason. many chose to go to free cities like lion's arch. children like leikkya, whose family couldn't be found, were often given to foster families or put up for adoption where possible.

she went through many different foster families, rarely staying anywhere for long. some were actively abusive, others simply not equipped to deal with the immense amount of trauma simmering inside this tiny girl. at 15 she joined dynamics while living with one of the worst foster families to date. a teacher noticed and raised concern over her health and well-being, and so she was once again moved from that 'home'. after about three years of many such failures, she was given up on by her social worker, marked as a lost cause and allocated a small dorm room on an orphan's stipend.

life outside the complex had been tough for her; she never quite managed to fit into regular society. being used to strict and absolute regulations ruling over everything left her unable to really understand the rather complicated social cues and unspoken norms the regular population abided by. additionally there were very little people who cared about her (and even fewer who did so without ulterior motives), no contact with the other survivors and subpar overworked therapists.

life did take a better turn for her when she ran into one of the inquest scientists from the facility. he'd always been fond of her and sometimes slipped her sweets or aquired books. through many complications, him and his wife manage to adopt her and she moves to thaumanova with them. she gets involved with the inquest there again through her parents, shadowing them on their work where possible and making some connections through their friends and colleagues. she formally joins the inquest on her 18th birthday: the day the city - and once again her world - was wrought with destruction and chaos.

i'll stop monologuing about her for now. but there's no end in sight for the brainrot

link to day one bc that's about her as well

#sorry this turned into like. half a biography for her lshkfskdlj but the context *is* necessary. mostly #AsuraAppreciationWeek #gw2 #leikkya #IM GLOSSING OVER SO MUCH AND THIS IS ALREADY WELL OVER 700 WORDS OF PURE EXPOSITION shldfjks #if you've gotten this far. i'm so sorry. but this is only the start

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memes-in-a-half-shell · 9 months

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Villain AU - Deadlock, Part 8

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 ||

Getting some blabla out of the way 💁‍♀️ next chapter should have some cool action wahoooooooooooo

(Present)

Vee woke up with a startle at the sound of her phone ringing. In a half-awake state she stumbled her hand across and over to her nightstand, grabbing the device. She took a second to see who was calling, the name being none other than her surpervisor at work. Shit.

"Yeah?" Vee opened with a raspy voice.

"Where the hell are you? You were supposed to start an hour ago!" a woman voice shouted at the other end of the line.

God, it was too early for that...

"I was sick all night," lied Vee. "I'm sorry, I just passed out. I can't make it today."

"You realize I now have to cover for your ass?"

Oh boo-hoo, cry a fucking river.

"I'll be there tomorrow."

She ended the call right there and then. Fuck that job. Fuck that low salary. She didn't have to explain herself furthermore.

Vee sighed, leaving her phone back on the nightstand. In that moment she also realized two things: She was still fully clothed. When did she get to bed last night?

Last thing she remembered was Donatello coming into her apartment after Raphael's impromptu visit, then she cried. So much. That was extremely embarassing...

Putting on her glasses, she resolved herself to getting up, prefering to exchange yesterday's clothes for a oversized black t-shirt and keeping her underwear on. Getting her hair up in a messy bun, Vee made her way directly to the kitchen area, getting a coffee bag out of the pantry next. She barely started to measure the coffee beans needed for her grinder that a tired voice rose from behind.

"Someone called you?"

Vee let out a "Criss!" in French, jumping out of fear and turning around. Coffee beans flew out of the bag at the same time, many now littering the floor. She finally noticed Donnie who had been sleeping on the couch, the terrapin's eyes now fully opened - surprised by her reaction. They were both frozen for a moment, the woman wanting to drop her heart's rate first.

"... What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Uhh ... you said it was okay for me to sleep here."

Vee squinted, trying to recall that.

"Huh? When?"

The turtle was now sitting up, having put his glasses on.

"Last night after I got you to bed."

That was like a blast to Vee, absolutely confused.

"Man ... I don't recall that at all," she confessed. She quickly frowned afterward: "Wait, you took me to bed?"

"Why, you wanted to sleep with me on the couch instead?" said the other, amused.

Vee groaned, giving up as she proceeded to get a broom out. Starting to collect the stray coffee beans, the terrapin had now made his way closer.

"Nice outfit...," he pointed.

She paused, realizing her look.

"It's my apartment, I dress how I want," said the human with a quick shrug. "Enjoy the view, I guess."

Donnie extended his hand towards her, motionning for the broom.

"Gimme that. This mess was caused by me."

Vee sighed, handing him the tool: "Sure, have fun. I'll get the coffee started. ... I have a feeling I'll need a couple of cups today."

It felt so weird... To see him in daylight and with less equipment on himself. Grinding the coffee, she prepped her machine so a pot could be filled. Observing the terrapin at work next, she took a moment to glance at his movements, his muscles. She almost caught herself biting her lip too hard...

"Remind me why you stayed over?" she asked. "For real, the only thing I remember is just crying like a lil' bitch last night."

That caught Donnie off guard, laughing lightly. Throwing away the last beans, he looked at Vee, putting the broom back to its place.

"I wanted to make sure you'd be okay," he started. "You seemed quite shaken up, so it only felt right that I'd be there."

Vee got some mugs out, letting him continue.

"And... I kinda got into an argument with my brother Leonardo last night. So I didn't want to go back home just yet."

"Oh?"

"They saw us together last night, hence why Raph paid a little visit as well."

"What a charming family you have...." she said sarcastically.

"Their intentions are well placed, but poorly executed," he added, thoughtful. He pointed towards Vee's computer next: "By the way, your client replied last night..."

She first frowned, but then quickly realized that she didn't lock her screens - first interrupted by Raph's arrival. She hastened to her desk with a slight panic, sitting down and looking at her screen. As she was reading, Donnie was now standing behind her, waiting for her reaction.

BillionsPerSeconds: How much are we talking about? Color me interested. smooth_criminal: Oops, sorry, the information self-destructed. I don't have it anymore. smooth_criminal: Good doing business with you. Bye bye.

"Hey, I didn't write that! What the heck!" she blurted out.

"I did."

He hunched closer to her, hands against the desk and at each sides of her, searching for her gaze at her left.

"I told you to not give out the biometrics data."

"And I told you not to look through my stuff! You're breaking rule number two."

Donnie showed an annoyed look: "... Your screen was litterally opened and your web browser on that conversation. Forgive some wandering eyes."

"Breaking rule number three now; don't be an ass," she added, looking over to him.

A brief staring contest ensued, the woman finally realizing how close the terrapin now was. A sigh left her, losing the battle as she glanced away.

"And I wasn't giving it out," mumbled Vee. "I was trying to sell it. It's different."

"It's still going against what we talked about. Don't try to play around with words and meanings."

Her eyes now back on him, she patted his cheek amusedly: "Alright, I got my lesson now. No need to chastise me anymore."

Donatello's smile was sweet, as if happy to have won whatever battle this was. Letting out a simple "good", he quickly nuzzled over Vee's top of her head, proceeding back up and into the kitchen. As he was pouring the now readied coffee, the woman was still processing this rapid display of affection he just did, swiveling her chair around and observing his motions with a slight confusion.

... What happened last night?

***

(Last night)

Her crying had calmed down, her eyes still red and watery however. The duo was still in eachother's arms and now comfortably seated on the couch - Vee completely leaning onto the mutant's form and in absolute need of comfort. Her fatigue was now drowsing her mind, yet that didn't stop her from talking:

"I never wanted this," she confessed. "I wanted to create. I wanted to be happy. ... I got fucked over so many times, I simply lost hope."

She could still feel Donnie's hands slowly petting her in soothing motions.

"I only started all of this information broker shit 'cause I'm good at searching stuff," she added with a sniffle. "I lost so many years going to College for music and arts, I didn't want to lose a couple more years trying to go down another career path." She paused, some sobs escaping her. "... I was abused, I was broken, the industry swallowed me whole and spat back my emptied shell."

She dared move, wanting to find Donnie's gaze.

"People have told me to grow a spine and be assertive - and believe me, I've tried so many times. ... I was met with rage and shouts. I had nowhere to go. I've been told countless times that I'm good for nothing and that everything I ever did was for nothing. ... What am I supposed to do other than to believe that?"

She could feel her tears come back again, shaking her head slightly: "People only want what's best for their personal gain. Once they see weakness, they'll do anything to step on it and take whatever left there is. ... And I was tired of it. I wanted none of it."

One of Donatello's hands moved, cupping her cheek and his thumb tenderly wiping the wet trail on her skin. He had this serene and mindful look, showing that he was completely attentive to her. The woman brought her hold to his hand, leaning into his touch with closed eyes. At once she realized how much she had craved for any form of contact and interaction... To simply be approached by someone and feel a touch on her.

"I'm so glad you're here..." she murmured in a sad tone.

"And I'm glad to be here," he answered in a hushed voice as well, getting closer.

She felt a motion at the top of her head, the turtle now nuzzling her gently. Her body reacted like a magnet as she herself wanted to be nearer. A deep rumbling sound started from the mutant's chest, this small vibration felt between them and throughout the woman's body. She lost herself into this feeling, moving her arms to rest around his neck and hiding her face in the crook of his neck. In an instant Donnie's embrace was now wrapped around her, his face buried in her hair and his churr incessant. They both didn't want to let go - simply wanting to savor the moment and newly found comfort and proximity.

"Please stay," softly said Vee. "I don't want to be alone."

Donnie noted her body relaxing, as well as some yawns escaping her. Without any words he proceeded to scoop her in his arms, hers still around his neck. Heading for the bedroom, he next laid her down on the mattress, kneeling down beside the furniture and observing the space while petting her hair in a soothing motion.

"... Where do you want me to stay?" he asked. "Your bed's not big enough." It was nothing else but a double sized mattress. They could both fit, but they'd need to stay close...

"You can sleep on the couch," Vee answered, yawning again.

"Then I'll be there if you need me," added the terrapin, his eyes translating a loving emotion.

He only wanted to stay close to her... Bringing a blanket over her clothed form, he nuzzled her temple, getting a soft hum from Vee in return. As he was about to head out of the bedroom next, her tiny voice did stop him:

"I'm sorry..."

He looked her way again: "What for?"

"I'm sorry...," she repeated, her tone trailing off, too tired.

Knowing he'd get no more answers from her, Donnie prefered to disregard whatever apology that was, leaving the room and keeping the door ajar - only to be able to hear her if ever needed. He started to turn off the lights around the apartment, finally stumbling around her computer and noticing its screen and active web browser. The turtle frowned lightly as he read over the conversation with her current client, knowing she was hinting at the biometrics he had just shared with her. Seeing that the client seemed interested, he answered in Vee's stead, bullshitting something about the files having self-destruct. He didn't care if that prevented her from getting money, he simply couldn't let her share that information...

With a sigh he headed for the couch, leaning his shell on it and bringing a cushion between his neck and shell for his head to rest on. Donnie's eyes were stuck on the ceiling for a long while, his thoughts running over and over again in his mind. The fact that Vee had opened herself so easily tonight, he knew there was hope... More than ever, he didn't want to let go. He wanted her to be happy...

***

(Present)

They had settled for an easy breakfast - eggs and toasts - then sitting down on the living room's floor and plates on the coffee table. As Vee wanted to avoid any awkward silences, she had put on some faint music in the background, in hopes of making things easy in this ... weird morning. Her playlist was set to a random cycle, which brought her to almost choke when 'My One and Only Love' came up next. She promptly skipped as barely a minute rolled in, the soft beat of 'C.R.E.A.M' coming up instead.

"Afraid of love songs?" said Donnie, amused.

"Absolutely not," replied the woman. "It's just ... not needed right now."

"Mm-hmm, sure."

Vee's stare was slightly annoyed as she observed him take a sip of coffee. ... There simply was no time right now to let any lovey feelings invade her mind. Instead she prefered to switch the subject to a matter she'd be wanting to know for some time:

"Can I ask something about the project Renaissance? ... There's a detail in those files that I've been wondering about."

Donnie was now attentive, his brow ridges furrowing lightly.

"I dunno why you're so stuck on that project, but sure, go ahead."

The woman took that as a cue to get up, fetching a tablet she had left in her room. It didn't take her time to swipe through the device as she walked back to the living room, already bringing up the Renaissance's files. Sitting back down at the coffee table, she read through some lines, finally pinpointing what she wanted to know about:

"Here... The initial mutative components of the alien substance have been noted down, yet a thorough investigation of its properties still remains to be conducted. Following the ongoing observations on the animal subjects, blood tests revealed that the so-called 'green ooze' is present amongst the cells, ensuring a continuous safekeep of the element - if ever missing and needed." She looked up at Donatello, her head slightly tilting to one side in questionnement. "... Have you ever tested the ooze from your blood? Or have you ever offered it to scientists?"

His answer was quick: "Never in a lifetime would I ever give that substance to anyone. I'd be too scared for it to fall into any wrong hands." His pause was brief, considering his next words. "... I did get some results myself, but never pushed for more answers - and frankly, my family and I are okay with never knowing what the ooze entails of, or even to have it die with us."

"Aren't you curious though?"

The terrapin shrugged: "About what?"

That actually stopped Vee, actually wondering herself. Seeing her incertitude, the other kept going on.

"We know the ooze is capable of bringing great transformations into any beings. Yet, to be affected by it is to be marked for a life of exile, at least that's how we see it; to be feared by most people. Why would we want that substance to affect anything or anyone's life? Who are we to decide if any being can potentially be inflicted by this curse?"

"A curse?" questionned the human. "Why say that when it litterally gave you sentience?"

"Did I ask to be given that sentience?"

"No, but it made you into who you are."

"And you think my family and I are okay with that?"

Vee stopped, knowing there was no more point in trying to raise a counterargument. Seeing her concerned look, Donnie did sigh softly, fingers mindlessly and softly tapping against the table, reminiscing.

"... Years ago, we did get our hands on a deritative alien substance; the purple ooze. It had been used to turn human subjects into animal mutants, which brought me to the realization that it could be used to turn us into humans." He glanced at his left hand, closing and flexing his three fingers. "... I remember the feeling of having five fingers, even if it was for a brief moment. At that time, my brothers and I were contemplating the idea of changing our forms, only to be accepted within society."

"Why didn't you guys do it?"

That brought a soft smile to the mutant's lips: "As cheesy as it'll sound, we do love who we are. Through all the hardships and seclusion, we simply couldn't give up who we truly were." His gaze remained on Vee, knowing she probably had many question still. "I guess the point I'm really trying to make is that we don't wish the challenges we've been through to anyone else. We honor our lives, we remain in this lifestyle simply because that's all we've ever known. ... The power in our blood may be too destructive or unpredictable, so we can't risk letting it be shared freely into this world... And we don't want to change. We don't want to allow any more successes into our very undemanded existence."

Vee remained silent, contemplating his words. While she understood the reasonings, there was still a small part of her that simply couldn't push aside her curiosity; she wanted to know more about the substance. She could only contemplate the possibilities of any advancements it could bring into society or individuals. Yet when she listened to him, the sympathy in her could only agree with the terrapin. ... Something she never thought she's reach at this point. She locked her tablet's screen, giving it no more attention.

"Thank you for telling me all of that," she said, sustaining his gaze. "I guess I can finally put those questionings to rest."

"Anything else you'd like to know then?" he asked in light amusement, elbows on the coffee table and his chin against his raised hands.

Vee let out a quick chuckle, first peeking quickly inside her now empty coffee cup.

"You want another coffee?"

He shook his head slightly: "I'd rather go sleep in fact... We usually don't stay up much during the day."

And she supposed that he couldn't really get out at this time, or else he'd be spotted easily. The woman simply got up, then standing by his side and offering her hand to him. In a follow me gesture, she got the turtle to stand up, her tiny hand holding his large one as she guided him towards her bedroom. As she offered him her bed, he was quick to politely decline, but her insistance and assuring him that she didn't mind did bring some ease into the offering.

"I'll be working on some stuff in the meantime, I don't mind," Vee simply added.

And that was good enough for him.

Putting the dishes away, Vee's actions only slowed down once she sat back at her computer, mindlessly going through her files and reorganizing some documents. Thinking back to Donnie being so open about how he felt in regards to his own existence, she slowly realized that last night had a ... similar outcome, but this time coming from her end. Bits and pieces of her blabbering came back to light, realizing that she had been pretty vulnerable in that moment. In a sense she absolutely hated it, but then again ... it had felt so good to let it all out. To finally voice things that had plagued her mind and kept her in this sense of failure for anything she ever undertook. Her life was this endless wandering, all about taking on the opportunity to ruin people's lives - only for her gain. Yet when she was with Donnie, she felt this sense of purpose, a plan that was getting built before her very own eyes... And that felt absolutely refreshing. Her playlist still going, this time even more softly, she groaned lightly as 'My One And Only Love' started again but from another artist, yet kept the tune playing. She remembered his touch. His hands over her form, caressing ever so softly. His nuzzling to her hair, the churr in his chest. The proximity she experienced, as short as it was, had only her screaming for more - simply to feel alive a little more.

After a while she sighed, knowing she couldn't resist the thought anymore. She got back up and headed towards the bedroom, finding the turtle already asleep. She felt bad for walking in and sitting by the bed's side, her hand shyly reaching for his. That easily woke up Donnie, his tired motions leading him to look at Vee.

"What's up?" he asked in a hushed, half-asleep tone.

"... Can I join you?" said the woman, her voice tiny.

He only hummed, moving a little and bringing the blanket up for the human to slip in. Removing her glasses and joining Donnie, she prefered to face him, both on their sides and first studying his traits. Feeling her hands to his cheeks, a purr-like sound left the terrapin, his eyes already closed out of fatigue.

"I'm so glad you're here...," she echoed from last night.

His arms were now fully around her, bringing Vee's to wrap around his neck. In an instant, the rush of their hearts was deafening, their bodies so close - they could've just melded together. Vee's fingertips tenderly traced patterns on his scales, appreciating the texture. Oh she could keep doing so for hours... The mutant lazily nuzzled her hair, his hands patiently petting her upper and lower back. There was this excitement about keeping her close, yet everything felt so right and calm... he knew they both needed this.

And in all truthfulness, they wished this moment would last forever...

((Part 9))

#it's-a-moi #villain au #usual sorry for any mistakes #the fact that I'm not putting much thoughts or time into this fic kinda makes me feel uneasy #I'm so used to doing exposition and taking the time to set up a scene #but with this I just want to take the point across and I think that's a good practice #and FRANKLY I'm just having fun with this #the chapters are getting out like hot bread and I ain't mad #I'm just happy to be writing again

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whirling-fangs · 1 year

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[[ I've been getting new followers and I am very honored that you'd follow this wild little boar boy!! But I just want to remind everyone of this snippet from my rules :

so if you don't have an explicit KNY verse/AU easily accessible somewhere in your navigation, I will not follow back. I have a very unflexible brain and I need to be familiar with the setting when writing with someone. I'm more than happy to interact with OCs or characters from another verse, but only if things happen within the KNY verse! Thank you for your understanding ;w; ]]

#mask off / ooc post #[[i feel like an ass for pointing it out but crossovers are very tedious to me #i only make an exception if i'm familiar with the mun and the other verse #i don't really enjoy threads where the exposition takes several replies before we can actually focus on the dynamic between characters #and i don't have enough free time to learn about new verses and it'd be disrespectful if i followed back #with no actual intention to read about other people's pages ;-; y'all put lots of effort into your characters #that being said if you DO have a kny verse and i missed it feel free to IM me the info!!!#so tl;dr: i'm sorry]]

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dcviline · 5 months

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finished AFFC

#᯽ ooc. ⊱ ── ❝ 𝘖𝘩 𝘯𝘰 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘔𝘢𝘳𝘪. ❞#2/3 of that book I absolutely did not give a single shit about I'm sorry #my original stance still holds up. it felt like side quest central.#cersei and jaime chapters always slapped. arianne was interesting. stoneheart being revealed as catelyn was an awesome scene.#brienne deserved a better arc than getting jerked around for an entire book though #like if the whole point was to bring her back to catelyn / stoneheart then he could have just . . . done that #samwell's chapters are like bran's chapters for me. I cannot bring myself to care but I will tune in for the lore exposition.#arya? fun but too brief. the same with sansa.#most of the greyjoy shit outside of asha's chapters was just nasty and unnecessary #if I never have to read an aeron or victarion chapter again it will be too soon but I know what awaits me #anyway uhhhhh. 5/10 for affc. maybe 6 if I'm being generous bc I did love the lannister shenanigans.

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randomnameless · 2 years

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I'm very dragonpilled right now and 3 Houses/Hopes refuses to scratch the itch despite arguably having one of the best takes on manaketes in series history(used loosely here ofc since not all dragons are made equal in FE). God, the Nabateans are right up my alley and yet we get crumbs. It got me thinking about Laguz vs Nabateans, seeing the dragon fam drama in Tellius be touched on, TONS more than Rhea, Seteth, Flayn, Macuil, Indech, the Relics siblings, and even Sothis.

I know this is about to sound like I'm asking "lol what's the difference between night and day" here, but I genuinely would like to know just how much better IntSys did with the dragon shifters in Tellius from a person more knowledgeable about it, and how they could've done the Nabateans much better in hindsight, especially since both games do a very interesting twist on dragons for the series. I'm thinking of watching a playthrough of Tellius to literally just FINALLY get my dragon fam/race fill instead of asking the Fodlan series to give me anything (I'M STARVING DAMMIT), and would like to hear your thoughts on what you think of the Laguz overall and how their race enhances the plot. Spoilers welcome btw.

Oh.

(ugh i forgot this in my drafts i’m so sorry!)

Let's say Tellius starts and breathes with the racial angle/card - we have two kinds of humans, beorcs who are random humans and laguz, humans who can shapeshift.

Through the course of the saga, we see Laguz. Not just here as mere place holder and infodumps, but we see the various leaders of the different tribes, we go to Castle Gallia, Ike talks and learns from all kind of Laguz around.

For the dragon Laguz living in Goldoa, their first appearance, iirc, is when Ike's boat crashes on their shores, dragons are isolationists and ask him to get the fuck out, we can't because no boat, and the situation is dire until the dragon prince, Kurthnaga, pops up and defuses the situation.

Afterwards we see Deghinsea talk to the other Laguz Kings about the plot.

But for the dragon laguz? The most important about them isn’t their scale or anything, but the familial drama associated to Goldoa’s royal line. They are not only dragons and here to give a backstory to someone - nope, they are characters with arcs.

It ultimately touches the greater plot and one of Tellius’s most destestable themes - but such is their verse, and they are fundamentally a family screwed by their world.

Sister goes to hold the hand of the worst human alive, worst human alive use the kid they got as a barganing chip, older brother goes to rescue her and ends up as a drugged and tortured being, younger brother is sheltered but lost about what is happening, and their father is enduring the loss of his two children and also the fate of the world on his moustache, until he cannot anymore. Older brother’s wife sides with worst human alive just to get a chance to see her beloved, and her own grandpa has to betray his country for her sake and her unborn kid.

Meanwhile? Rhea is a lizard in hiding because her siblings became toothpicks, but Seteth ? Doesn’t have anything to do and or reaction when the truth is revealed, or when people are trying to turn them in toothpicks again. He won’t talk to Nemesis, and player pandering forces him not to give more fucks than needed about his sister.

Like, gosh, Rajaion only appears in a cutscene (bar his, uh, alternate form) and I get more about his relationship with his siblings, dad and lover from Tellius than Seteth’s 10 supports and 2 games where he could be interacting with his siblings, but, uh, never does in a meaningful way.

And that’s not to say Seteth BaD or anything like this, really !

Just to say the lizard family from Fodlan didn’t receive even a tenth of what the Goldoan royals received, even if they have much more screentime.

Quality > Quantity.

What they could have done with Fodlan to make the dragon family act more like a family rather than the clusterfuck we had?

Well, for starters, the Nabatean AG paralogue is a step in the right direction, because they interact without using Billy as the “center of universe” prop everything must tend to.

Maybe Fodlan could have started by at least naming one (maybe not all 12) dragon who was turned in a relic.

Maybe we could have had a confirmation about Flayn’s status, as a pure blooded Nabatean or as a hybrid.

They could have given us more breadcrumbs about what it means to share “blood” with humans, and if it was something that is supposed to be common, or reserved to “very special humans”. They could have developped more about what Nabateans felt seeing their current “allies” use relics, or even their enemies engineer fake “hearts” to turn humans in grotesque abominations supposed to mirror them.

I’m not saying we should had playable Indech’n’Macuil, but at least see and interact with them more, or give more info about them, why did they escape after the WoH, did they even meet Rhea once in 1k years, etc etc. Do we know if Nabateans are still surviving outside of Fodlan (it’s implied by Petra iirc) ?

That’s why I would have wanted more War of Heroes content, I know the Nabatean civilisation is already razed but we could have had the content I wanted and expected since day 1, about Nabateans, their place in the world and how they are supposed to work/live/coexist in peace with humans (and agarthans?) - we could have had some Nabateans who thought they were superiors to humans and were tyrants, and Nabateans who wanted and worked with them on an “equal” basis or some who were just consulted as oracles or seers...

Can they still live with humans ? Did they disagree on what to do next, after the Red Canyon, did some wanted to hide until the end of the times, or some wanted to rule over humans, or some only wanted to guide them?

All those things, and we will never know.

Bear in mind, we don’t know Deghinsea’s tax policy (still his country is isolationist to an extreme degree so...), but we know he loved all of his children, we know Almedha feels like dirt because she feels like she is the catalyst for the destruction of her family and expects Ena, her sister in law, to despise her, we know Nasir’s love for his granddaughter is stronger than in loyalty to his King and his own morals...

And we see Kurthnaga trying to do the “right thing”, only to realise the “right thing” isn’t the thing we always want to do, and how he ultimately has to walk in his father’s shoes.

It’s a tight group, take one of them, and you would find bonds and links to another member of the group.

In Fodlan, if I look at Rhea’s bonds (even if I take Nopes because remember, player pandering means “alone b4 u since zanado”) I still don’t know how she feels about Indech, how he feels about her, or what is going on in the state of the world.

Fodlan really tries to sell us a story where the Nabateans aren’t that close to each other, where Indech will not give a fuck about his sister being turned in a pair of daggers and where Cichol doesn’t think it is important to warn his brothers that Supreme Leader and her friends want to erase every Nabatean from Fodlan -

Hell, again with Fodlan’s main issue (or one of its main issues) - the Nabateans cannot collectively react to an event like a second attempt at ousting them from Fodlan, or in Supreme Leader’s words, create a “Nabatean blood-less world!” because Hresvelg Tea needs to be sold.

Almedha might have hold Ashnard’s hand, Kurthnaga, Deghinsea, Nasir and Ena are quick and fast to call him an asshole. I’m sure Rajaion did too. And there’s no need to have some “maybe we could have walked with him” or some “maybe he had his reasons??” when a member of their family is/was being tortured under his care.

Compare this to Seteth’s “well i know you don’t want to kill Supreme Leader but we have to put an end to the war!” when Rhea has been in her dungeons for 5 years, when he knows she’s in Enbarr and when he knows what happened to Flayn in the span of 1 month.

Fodlan cannot develop Nabateans without making Supreme Leader look like a fool, and Supreme Leader is Fodlan’s cash cow.

That’s, I think, the main difference between Fodlan’s Nabateans and Tellius’s dragon laguz.

#androblob #i'm so sorry i sometimes start to type a reply but then I put it on hold #because i have something else to do and here we are 3 months later #laguz in general were characters not nods or background exposition #never to be touched upon as to not make someone look bad #or just nods and being around because hey look we brought back beasts you loved them before right?#That's what they did in FE13 and I hated it #The FE14 beasts were apparently living in villages and no thought or care is given about a race of shapeshifters leaving in a world with hum #humans damn #they're just like people from a random village who just happen to have fur that's all #after coming from Tellius it's a bit light #but the game didn't want to shed light on them so at least that's that #to make nabateans better in hindsight talk about them #make them interact with each other #give them that familly or close group vibe the dragons from Tellius had #i think shifters and manaketes are used to lampshade an existing situation to depict racism or the struggle to live with people who are #different #if it's just to have a unit with fur then bar the gameplay what's the point?#at least that's what bamco does and it often works #Fodlan is an exception because the one who is arguing against coexistence is the cashcow of the saga #so she can't be wrong nor be right else the game wouldn't be released #so we're left with that milquetoast piece of jelly #'tell me is it bad that i do not want to die because my ears are pointy?'

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