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prettyyoungtragedy · 6 years ago

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Written in the Stars (13)

Characters: Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: You’re the type of woman who is headstrong and fiercely independent. Heiress to a fortune and one of the most brilliant minds of the 21st century. Until you’re forced into witness protection. Your “Protection” turns out to be 220 pounds of dreamy, sassy, delightful Bucky Barnes. Whatever could go wrong?

Warnings: Angst, violence, minor character death, lots of gore and evisceration.

A/N: This chapter is dark, like super dark so I apologize in advance for it! I am nt sure about what kind of trigger warnings to put here but if you don’t like death, maybe gloss over this one or just come ask me in my inbox what happened. I hope ya’ll don’t hate me too much for that ending but I promise I will fix it all soooon! Just be patient with me hahaha! I love you all for reading this and we are almost at the end!

This was generously Beta’d by my beta @suz-123 , without whom this fic wouldn’t get done!

Links are being a bitch so you can find the whole fic in my WIP masterlist in my bio!

Taglist is closed, Sorry guys!

The first thing you feel when your consciousness awakes is the tight feeling of your wrists bound behind you, and the ache in your shoulders from how far back they are bound. Gasping for air, you forced your eyes open slowly, feeling the dull throb coming from behind your eyes, there is dried blood cracking on the side of your face as you winced.

Your consciousness slowly allowing your mind to awaken and your heart rate immediately spiking as you remembered what had happened.

Your eyes register the space you are in, a dimly lit room, there’s a metal table nearby, on it is an array of tools, and you immediately knew what they were for. Your vision blurs for a moment and you breathed slowly, your head dropping forward as lethargy surged through you, clearly, you had been drugged.

The metallic taste in your mouth led you to believe it was some kind of Rohypnol. You shake your head trying to rid yourself of the feeling, and jostle the cuffs that held your body to the chair your wrist protesting in pain as the broken knuckles ached. You’re still wearing the dress from earlier, you don’t know how much earlier, but it’s slightly ruined now. There are rips and tears in the silk, and there are streaks of mud and grime on it from the struggle you had put up earlier when Arcas was dragging you into that blacked out car.

“What the fuck,” You muttered but you already knew who was behind this. That fucking prick traitor Arcas, anger surged through you at the thought of him. All these months that asshole was biding his time, plotting against you all while protecting you.

What a cunt, you thought.

The sound of metal clanking behind you startled you, and you tried to twist around in the direction of it but your wrists and shoulders protested in pain. You hear footsteps approach you and stop directly behind you.

“Arcas?” You whispered,

You feel them lean down and place their lips close to your ear, feel their hot breath against your neck, and you shudder with disgust.

“Guess again?” A male voice, distinctive, so familiar.

Then the figure stepped out from behind you, and into the light. Your breath hitching in your throat at the sight of the man before you, You immediately recognize him, Baron Strucker.

“Strucker,” You spat,

“Good to see you again, doctor.” Baron Strucker smirked at you and you shivered.

This was a man who had done more harm to humanity that one could even speak about. He was the one scientist after Zola that had done irreparable damage to so many lives while he worked for Hydra. He was cold, a sociopath with very little care for human life.

You knew this because you’d seen the files of his work and shuddered to think of all the undocumented experiments he had performed on the numerous others who suffered at his hands.

“Hydra’s number one experimental asshole.”

“I thought that was you,” He smirked at you,

You frowned at his response, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t act like you don’t remember all the magic you cooked up in that lab of yours,” He sneered, “You might play the damsel in distress to those circus freaks and they believe it, but we knew who you really are,”

“I have no fucking idea what you’re on about, buddy,” You jeered at him, you knew it was probably a bad idea to antagonize him, considering your current situation but, what the hell, you were probably going to die anyway, might as well be on your own terms.

“I’d be a little less of bitch right now,” He sneered, “You don’t hold all the cards here, I do.”

“Is that supposed to scare me?” Oh god what is wrong with you, just shut up!

“No, but there are ways I could scare you, ways unique to a woman,”

“You do know if you touch me, he’s going to kill you all right?”

“Let him try, he wouldn’t be the first asset we put down like the dogs they are.”

Your heart lurches, they were going to try and kill Bucky. But no, he would be fine. You knew Bucky would be fine, he could take care of himself and he was going to come and get you and kill all these assholes. But did he know you were missing yet?

“You’re a fucking asshole, you know that.” You spat,

Strucker laughed and shook his head, “Call me all the names you want, none of it is going to matter in the end.”

“Okay then you are a cock sucking,shit eating, dirt bag.” You grinned at Strucker jeeringly, anger flashed across his face and he slammed the back of his hand across your face.

You gasped in pain as your face is whipped to the side, pain lancing across your cheekbone and jaw, your lip splits and you can taste the blood.

You laughed, “You hit like a fucking girl,”

Why couldn’t you just shut the fuck up!

Again Strucker strikes you, and this time the pain is worse but you aren’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s hurting you so you laughed softly again.

“I hit harder than that,”

“Shut up you bitch!” Strucker grabbed you by the neck and lifted your face up toward his. The anger in his eyes is evident as he glared at you.

“You know, you always were an insufferable bitch.” He seethed, “You’re lucky you were useful to us,”

You frowned at him, what the hell did that mean.

“After all you created the serum which gave us our new assets.” The confident smugness with which he said this made your heart stop.

“What the fuck do you mean?” You said sounding a lot more afraid than you had intended to.

“Let me show you,”

Strucker moved a few feet in front of you and flipped a switch, a screen suddenly illuminating the dark room and you squinted at the bright light. There was a pause before Strucker pressed a button and a video began to play.

The screen displayed a boy, he couldn’t have been older than eighteen, strapped to a metal table. There was an IV hooked up to him, and he was writhing in agony while the green liquid in the IV slowly drained into his body.

The smile on Strucker’s face made your blood run cold, your heart began to thump in your chest harder and harder with each passing second of the video, you watched the boy choke and his body shudder while he tried to scream until he stilled unmoving with cold, wide eyes, the color drained from his face.

“Test subject 18, male, unresponsive to the serum. Failure due to subject death.” The voice on the screen announced with such disinterest you felt sick to your stomach bile rising in your throat.

“What the hell,” You whispered in horror,

The video changed again and again to different subjects before you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Please stop, please.” You begged, “Why are you showing me this?”

“Because you created the serum that gave us new soldiers, see these were our failures, but then we realized if we kept letting you work, you would figure out a way to create what we wanted. For all your brilliance you never realized, your work wasn’t a cure to anything but some sort of replica serum that was used on Captain America all those years ago. You just modified it to benefit some aspects only,”

“No, no no. That serum was for trauma patients, to cure cancer. We weren’t even testing it, you can't...you couldn’t...it...was not mine. I would have known.” You tried to form a coherent sentence but words were failing you at that moment,

Your mind was racing, they couldn’t have replicated the super soldier serum, even though at some point you used some of Dr. Erskine's formula, it was just a small part of what you were doing.

“Why would I lie about something like this?” Strucker said, smugly grinning at you.

“They will stop you, none of you will get away with this.” You said through gritted teeth, tears pricking in the corner of your eyes. All that work, years of research and development and it had all gone into helping Hydra create more monsters.

“I wonder what your soldier will say now that he knows the woman he’s falling so deeply in love with was creating the same thing that was used to make him a compliant killer,” Strucker stalked closer towards you coming to a stop before you, “You see, Josef has been good to us, he placed those files for the soldier to find. We thought they'd show you, especially our Winter Soldier, but it seems his feelings for you have clouded his judgment. He’s seen the footage. Do you think he will come for you after seeing what your work has done?”

Who the fuck was Josef? You thought. then slowly it dawned on you...Arcas was part of the Winter Soldier program and your blood ran cold.

“What...Bucky knew?”

Did Bucky know? Is that why he had taken himself off your detail and stopped coming around? There were a million thoughts going through your head at that moment but you don’t respond, instead, your anger gets the best of you and you spat in Strucker’s face, before violently trying to shove yourself off the chair in an attempt to get at him. It was a futile attempt, but your anger wasn’t letting you think properly at that moment.

Strucker laughed and wiped his hand across his face, “Your hubris always was going to be your downfall, too bad you won’t be around to see the wonders your work will do for Hydra,”

You opened your mouth to respond but he never gives you a chance to, instead he hits you across the head with his fist and everything blacks out again.

~~~

You slip in and out of consciousness, you vaguely feel a presence in the room as they insert a needle into your arm. Your vision swims and you feel cold, so cold for some reason.

You try to speak but your words are escaping you, there’s something fighting in your mind a sort of consciousness that screams at what is being done to you but you’re too lethargic to fight it, so your mind screams again and again.

Cold metal against your bare skin and you feel like ice is injected into your veins and this time s a scream is torn from your throat, one that is so terrifying it scares that voice inside your head silent.

~~~

Bucky stands in the middle of the crowded room, there is a flurry of commotion around him, but he hears nothing. It’s as if his world has come to a standstill and everyone around him is a blur. His heart beats slow and hard, he can hear the blood rushing through his veins and feel the slow steady beat of it against his rib cage.

His mind is slipping, he is teetering dangerously on that cliff between him and the Soldier. The slow burn anger that is coursing through his veins at that moment scares a small part of him, but he doesn’t stop it. He doesn’t take a beat, he needs this to fuel him.

Bucky is angry, at Steve, at Tony, at Arcas, at Hydra but most of all Bucky is angry at himself. He is angry that he never saw this, he is angry that he approved Arcas as your protection, he is angry that he’d been so blind in protecting you that he missed the most obvious of detaila. It was like they wanted him to slip up so badly it haunted him.

He berated himself from the moment you went missing when he found your watch smashed in the apartment, the broken glass everywhere, and when he walked out of your apartment with that feeling in his chest like he’d failed you.

“It’s going to be fine, Bucky,” Steve repeated again and again, but Bucky didn’t believe him, not for one second.

“This is my fault,” Bucky responded again and again and, no matter how many times everyone tried to assure him it wasn’t, he never listened.

Bucky took a deep breath and shook his head, he needed to clear his mind, needed to get out of his head for a moment. He looked around the room and feels suffocated by the flurry of people around him. Two quick strides and he wrenches open the door to the communications room and stepped out into the quieter hallway.

He immediately sprinted down the hallway to a quiet space and leaned against the wall, sucking in a deep breath as his heart began to beat erratically. Bucky closed his eyes and keeled over, he tried not to feel sick but he can’t help the bile that rises in his throat.

Panicked, Bucky can feel the fear rising inside him. He hadn’t had a panic attack in years and he’d forgotten how it felt. It reminded him of drowning and no matter how much he struggled he couldn’t breathe or save himself.

Bucky slammed his metal arm against his chest in an attempt to get his lungs to open, but they remained locked. His mind is spinning out of control, and he’s careening off that edge, so hard.

Control, control, control. That is all it’s screaming at him, of which he had none in this situation.

Shit.shit.shit. He tries to breathe again, and he hits the wall with his fist. Once, twice, thrice, each time his fist lands against the concrete it spiders and cracks further, almost rocking the entire floor.

Until the concrete visibly gives way and his metal fist flies through the wall sending chunks of concrete flying across the way, Bucky screams in frustration and whirled around feeling helpless.

Behind him, Steve, Sam, and Tony all stand there looking at him wide-eyed. Concern is plastered across Steve’s face, and Sam’s too. Tony had an understanding expression on his face, which surprises Bucky.

“Buck-” Steve started to say,

“Unless you’re here to tell me you have something, I don’t fucking care what you have to say,” Bucky snarled,

“We do,” Sam said quickly grabbing the tablet from Steve’s hands and approaching Bucky. He immediately grabbed the tablet from Sam and looked at it.

“What am I looking at?” Bucky asked frowning down at the fuzzy picture before him,

“That is the car she was taken in, it was registered to Jasper Sitwell and since we know he’s not alive, I am assuming it was Arcas whose driving it.” Sam said,

“We tracked the car via satellite to a location in Jersey, we have a STRIKE team ready to go,” Steve said,

“So what the fuck are we standing around for?” Was all Bucky said.

~~~

Cold, so cold. Why is it so cold, your mind is fuzzy.

Forcing your eyes open, you can’t see, everything is a haze. It’s cold, why is it so cold. It’s like pure frost injected into your veins, why do you feel like this, what have they done to you.

You try to speak but you can’t move your jaw is locked, it’s like your lungs are seizing up but you can still breathe, a strangled sound coming from your throat, your eyelids are heavy like lead is poured into your eyes, then, slowly, you feel the current shoot through your body and suddenly you feel like your body is on fire, your mind is screaming but no sound comes out.

You can’t move, you can’t stop the pain, the blinding, searing, terrifying pain.

A single strangled cry escapes your throat and your eyes flutter shut, whiting out.

What the fuck had they done to you.

~~~

He stepped out of the weapons vault, sliding the gun in his hand into the thigh holster. Everyone in the room falls silent, their eyes turned toward the pause feels tangible.

Bucky is decked out in head to toe black, the suit he wears is so eerily similar to that of the Winter Soldier, a stealth suit designed by Tony for missions that required a certain level of anonymity. Guns strapped to his body, knives in their smooth holders, his metal arm looked daunting bare and glinting in the light. He has so many weapons on him it’s hard to say where he ended and they started. His expression is hard and deadly, and Steve sucked in a slow deep breath as his eyes roamed over his best friend.

No, this wasn’t his best friend anymore, this was the Soldier, This was death personified, this was Ares.

“Ready?” Steve asked softly,

Bucky’s cold eyes met his, and Steve had a momentary flashback to standing on that bridge in front of the Winter Soldier who was ready to kill him. He watched as Bucky just nodded at him and picked something off one of the shelves before he stalked out of the vault, looking every bit like the killer Hydra had made him into.

~~~

“Two entrances, one here and here.” Steve said pointing to the blueprint of the building where they had been led to, “Sam will go through the east, Bucky and I will take the west entrance, STRIKE will hold back until we give the order that she is in there, our priority is to get her out alive, minimum casualties.”

“No,” Bucky shook his head, “I will go in alone,”

“Bucky-”

“This isn’t a negotiation. I go in alone.” The authority in his voice stilled Steve for a moment

He looked around at the people standing before him, his eyes landing on back Bucky who stood with a scowl on his face, arms crossed over his chest and eyes hard. He could see Bucky making his own plan in his head, nothing any of them said at that moment was going to make a difference. He’d already made up his mind here.

“Bucky?” Sam said quietly as the STRIKE team all moved off to go prepare in their positions, “Are you sure you’re okay to do this?”

Bucky looked up at Sam and then at Steve, his cold gaze seemed to barely recognize them as he regarded them, Sam’s question barely phasing him at that moment as all he felt was the rage, cold, hard rage.

“Don’t as me stupid fucking questions,” He replied coolly,

“We just don’t want you to do something that brings back-”

“I don’t care,” Bucky interrupted him, “They want the Soldier, I will give them the Soldier.”

Then Steve and Sam watched Bucky raise that black mask to his face, the one that brought back memories of death, and winter, the one he’d been forced to wear, the one that stripped him of his identity and replaced him with the Winter Soldier and put it on.

It was like a different person stood before them at that moment, a person neither of them recognized yet both of them felt a ripple of fear run through them as they looked at his visage.

~~~

“Herr Strucker, they’re here,”

Strucker turned to his soldiers, hands clasped fast behind his back and he looks over him. His creations, his projects, his successes. Each as strong as the next, they stood before him armed and dangerous, as young as they were they were strong enough to take on the Avengers. He believed this with all his heart, this time he would win.

“Kill them all,” He said calmly, “But bring me our asset, I want him to watch when I kill her.”

~~~

Bucky no longer sees the faces of the men he’s killed, all he feels is rage. His mind blocked out everything else and focused on that rage that fueled him. His mind is blank save for one thought, save her or die trying.

He tosses aside the gun, it clatters to the floor as he stepped over the lifeless body of one of Strucker’s men who he had just put six bullets in his head. Was it excessive? Absolutely, but Bucky doesn’t care.

This is who he is, this part of him was always there, waiting calmly in the dark to be released, and it was gleeful for this moment. Bucky could be the monster they made him, he would show them just how capable he was of tearing out their hearts and watching them die with a smile on his face.

They created him, and now he was going to destroy them.

As he rounded the corner, another soldier comes at him. Bucky easily sidestepped his attack, and wrenched the serrated edge knife from its holster on his thigh and faster than lightning he slammed it into the soldier’s jugular, blood spraying everywhere and all over him.

He doesn’t flinch as the warm red liquid drips down the side of his face, Bucky watched with disinterested eyes as he pulled the blood-covered knife out of the young soldier’s neck and watched him crumple to the ground clutching his wound in a futile attempt to save himself.

Bucky kicked him aside and kept moving through the dark hallway, he had been through at least two dozen soldiers, already. Behind him lay a trail of dead bodies, blood and gore, and dying soldiers.

He kicked open one of the metal doors in the hallway, and two soldiers rush at him. Firing off their weapons, a bullet nicks his cheek a second before he whipped his face out of its path. He feels the sting the bullet leaves behind and both soldiers freeze when they see the new fury settling over his face.

They know who he is, they have seen that mask before, they have seen the footage. It was footage they had been trained with, but none of them anywhere near his caliber of fighting.

He surged forward and grabbed the barrel of the closest soldiers gun, he wrenched it from his hands and kicked him in the chest sending him flying backward. The other soldier who couldn’t have been older than eighteen pulled out his knife and ran at him. Big mistake, Bucky could see the sloppiness in their fighting, they weren’t trained like he was, or they were, but weren’t good enough.

Knocking his attacker back with his metal fist, Bucky grabbed the knife from him and plunged it into his abdomen, watching as the young soldiers face contorted with pain and shock before Bucky eviscerated him. Letting him fall to his knees before him, clutching his stomach and screaming.

His screams mean nothing to Bucky at that moment, they all deserved to die. Stone-faced, he kicked him aside again and stalked down the dark hallway again.

This was the Winter Soldier, this is who he was.

~~~

In your fugue state, you heard the screams and the battle going on around you but you couldn’t find it in you to get up. They had you in a chair again, tied up and barely awake, your head drooped towards your chest, and your mind fuzzy.

You hear voices around you but you can’t make out anything distinct. There are shouts in the room and the sound of glass breaking. Finally, you forced your eyes open and dragged your head up to look around you.

You see Arcas standing beside you with a gun in his hand and a few feet in front of him is Strucker. They are both facing the door, clearly anticipating someone’s arrival.

Your mind immediately goes to Bucky. Had he come for you? Was that what all the commotion was?

Then suddenly the door flies open, almost being ripped off its hinges as it’s kicked up, and in steps a visage of a man that made your heart stop.

The stark black of his suit, covered in blood and grime, and that mask that hid his face, but the coldness in those starlight eyes shone brightly. Your heart jumped, even in this fugue state you would know those eyes anywhere.

Bucky. no this was not Bucky this was the Winter Soldier.

Arcas and Strucker both raised their weapons at him and Bucky halted his movements, his eyes going to you in the chair, tied up, beaten, bruised and then to the two men who stood before him and he took a step towards them, rage radiating off him like a cloud of black.

“Ah ah! Move and I shoot her,” Arcas said turning the gun on you, and Bucky froze.

“Nice of you to finally join us,” Strucker said calmly, his gun still pointed at Bucky, “I see you are still well trained in doing your job, is there anyone left alive out there?

Bucky remained silent, his eyes suddenly glued on Arcas and the gun pointed in your direction, his heart thundering in his chest. The moment he laid eyes on you, in that chair all that rage disappeared and was replaced with fear.

His heart constricted at the sight of you, there was no way he could get to you and take out both Arcas and Strucker at the same time. He weighed his options in his mind, eyes moving between the two men and then, slowly, Bucky removed the black mask, letting it fall to the ground.

“Ah, there he is,” Strucker said with a smug smirk,

“What do you want?” Bucky asked through gritted teeth, he is trying to calm himself down but slow panic is rising in his chest. He needed Sam and Steve to get here, and quickly. The longer Arcas pointed the gun at you the less in control Bucky felt.

“What do I want? Such a loaded question,” Strucker chuckled,

“Enlighten me then?”

Strucker paused for a moment then spoke, “You see, after all these years you are no longer important to us. We have created a new breed of super soldiers you and your Captain are archaic, those that you killed in out there they are merely a testing phase group. And it was all thanks to your little girlfriend here that we are able to experiment on these soldiers. See we plan on making them better, faster, stronger, more...compliant than you were.”

Strucker stepped back and moved towards Arcas, placing a hand on his shoulder. “And Josef here is our prize-winning pupil. He is the new Winter Soldier, he was able to remain in your presence for almost a year without you detecting him. He infiltrated your organization and fed us intelligence so effortlessly that even our favorite asset didn’t detect him.”

Bucky glared at Arcas, feeling rage building up inside him again. He had approved Arcas, he had allowed him into your life, into your protection detail. How could he have been so stupid, so careless with your safety.

“And he has played his part brilliantly,” Strucker continued, “Of course the good doctor here has made it her life's mission to foil our plans and is now the only person who can replicate the serum for us so we have to take some...precautions, to ensure that our asset, if you will, won’t be giving us more trouble any time soon.”

“What did you do to her?” Bucky demanded taking a step towards them, clenching his fists at his side. He looked at you and sees you looking up at him with weak dazed eyes, his heart constricts again.

Strucker laughed, and just shook his head. “Nothing that you need to worry about,”

“What do you fucking want?” His rage is bubbling over, Bucky wants this to end, he needs it to.

“To watch you suffer,” Strucker said simply, then he nodded at Arcas, who looked at Bucky with a sinister smile on his face.

Then it happened, the gun goes off.

Once, twice, thrice, and Bucky’s entire world stopped, a strangled horrified howl escaping his throat.

#Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #The winter soldier #Bodyguard!Bucky #Bodyguard au #marvel fanfiction #Marvel AU #Bucky #bucky barnes series

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admiralty-xfd · 6 years ago

Text

Culmination

This is the final chapter. If you only read one, let this be the one. It helped me feel better after the finale while staying true to every (unfortunate) word of canon. Thanks to everyone who followed along this journey!

This is chapter 20. To start at the beginning please click here.

EMANCIPATION

(My Struggle IV)

JACKSON

He’s been running for weeks. He’s so tired of running. He may be almost eighteen, but he’s still only a kid and he’s afraid.

He thinks of his parents, dead on the floor of his house, blood everywhere. The horror he’d felt in that moment. It was the same kind of horror he’d felt when he knew what had happened to Brianna and Sarah.

Everything was just a joke before that, everything was just for fun. When and why had it gone so horribly wrong?

He doesn’t know where these powerful impulses are coming from. Ever since he was younger and noticed he was different than the other kids, he’s felt a deep desire to understand why he is the way he is.

And he wonders about his birth parents. They must know something about these powers he has. His adoptive parents only know as much as he’s allowed them to see, but they had to know more than he’s let on, or else they’d never have made that deal with the government and ended up in their swanky house in this new town where he has to go to a new school where he has no friends, only girls to torment.

But his birth parents know the truth. They have to.

He doesn’t know why he didn’t talk to them in the hospital, when he was hiding, breathing heavily under a desk, scared out of his wits.

“We just want to make sure you’re okay,” his birth mother had said. He believed her. She’d never come looking for him before. He wasn’t angry about it, he just felt a little rejected.

It had been his chance to get answers and he blew it.

He sees her in his visions, and sometimes in his dreams. Occasionally he has trouble discerning which are visions and which are dreams, but he quickly decides it doesn’t matter.

Her name is Dana Scully and she is his mother. She is beautiful and somewhat mysterious. And sad… so sad. He knows this even when they aren’t sharing each other’s pain through their visions. He wishes she weren’t so sad, that there was something he could do for her.

She works for the government and this gives him pause, adds to his confusion. It’s guys from the government who are pursuing him. They’re the ones who killed his parents.

He knows Dana Scully is expecting a baby, too. He’s seen it in his visions.

He doesn’t understand why she gave him up, even though he heard every word she said to him while he was feigning death in the morgue. She’d said she wanted to keep him safe, but from what? From whom?

The only person anyone needs to be kept safe from is himself.

I’m so sorry that I didn’t get a chance to know you, or you get a chance to know me or your father.

His father.

There’s a man, one about his birth mother’s age, who has appeared in his visions as well. He’s the same man he saw her with in the hospital; Fox Mulder. He knows this is the man Dana Scully thinks is his father. He has kind eyes, and dark hair like his own, and he loves her, and she loves him. He doesn’t need to know them to know this. It radiates off them both like energy.

But he’s seen visions of two men, two “fathers,” and whenever he sees them his confusion grows.

The other man… well, he doesn’t know how or why, but he has a horrible feeling in his gut that this man must be his real father. He has to be. Why else would he be having these bad impulses? Why else would he do these horrible things? This isn’t him, this isn’t the person he is. It has to be coming from this evil man, he can’t think of another explanation.

This man is old, far too old to be involved romantically with his birth mother who is so clearly in love with the other guy, anyway. He can’t figure out how or why a third party could be involved at all.

But he hears him in his head, plain as day, saying he made him, he created him. He makes it sound like he’s some monster he came up with in a laboratory.

Maybe he is a monster. It would be fitting.

There’s something wrong with him, he knows that much. He feels it every day. It’s why he acts out the way he does, because he doesn’t know what else to do, or how else to alleviate his own pain. He shares it with others and hates himself afterwards. He’s a mutant, or something inhuman, he has to be.

And they all call him William. William, his identity, apparently, since before he can even remember. Who is this “William” person? He can’t possibly describe how strange it feels to be called by the name of someone he is not. Every time he hears the name it stirs something inside of him; discomfort, like he’s had this completely different life that was unlived. A fake life. An idea.

His birth parents couldn’t possibly know about these urges he has that he can only describe as evil. What else could it be? Why else would he have these powers? They can’t be used for good, at least not any that he’s discovered. All he can do with them is hurt people, and he has. He’s a danger to anyone who comes near him. A menace.

Now that he thinks about it, maybe his birth mother did know it after all. Maybe it’s why she gave him away in the first place. He would, if he were her.

He’s questioning everything, about who he is and where he came from and why he is the way he is. He wants answers. He needs answers.

This is the only reason he lets this man Fox Mulder into his motel room.

The man standing outside his door truly believes he is Jackson’s father, and maybe he is. Maybe they will never know the truth. The only thing he’s sure of is that he’s a friend, not a foe. And that this man, Mulder, is going to die for him.

He’s seen it in his visions. There’s nothing he can do about that.

But he’s been on his own for weeks and he’s grateful to see a friendly face, even that of a stranger. So he unlocks the latch and slowly opens the door. Fox Mulder enters, looking exhausted but happy to see him.

“This may seem strange to you, but I’ve been looking for you forever,” he says.

Before Jackson can respond this stranger is hugging him tightly. He lets him, but doesn’t return the hug. Everything about this is uncomfortable.

“I held you when you were a baby,” Mulder says.

“Okay, maybe you did, but I don’t remember that,” Jackson explains. Even if half his DNA came from this man it doesn’t change the fact that this is the first time he’s met him, at least in his own memory.

“I know you know who I am, you hid from me. And from your mother.”

Jackson wants to tell this guy to hold up, slow his roll, he isn’t his father, she isn’t his mother. His parents were murdered, because of him. All because of him.

But something deep inside won’t let him because he knows this man cares deeply about him. He knows because he can hear it in his thoughts; something else he’s noticed he can do from time to time. He hasn’t quite honed this ability but when a thought is strong enough he can hear it; he can feel it. It’s how he knew the trucker who picked him up earlier had ill intentions. It’s how he knew the man who picked him up next wished him harm as well.

Now as he looks into the eyes of this man who believes he is his father, he hears love in his thoughts; love for a tiny baby, love for his birth mother, all wrapped up alongside more immediate thoughts of confusion and urgency.

Fox Mulder wants to help him, but he can’t. Jackson tries to explain this to him, but he doesn’t want to hear it. He has no clue what’s headed their way, no clue of the danger he’s put them both in by coming here. He has no idea what danger he’s put himself in by wanting anything to do with him.

Sure enough, Jackson’s pursuers enter the motel room hell bent on taking him into custody, setting in motion a chain of events that will lead to the end of the entire world. He knows there’s only one way out.

He has no choice. He cannot let them take him. He’s seen how it all ends.

As the red mist of the remnants of his attackers float through the air like a fog of death, Mulder looks at Jackson with a fear in his eyes he never wants to see again.

So he runs, again.

***

He’s hiding, and resting. He knows he only has so much time before they find him again. He looks around in the darkness, at the catwalks and stairwells of this familiar abandoned place; a place where he’d hang out with kids from school. Kids who never really understood him.

“...Jackson?”

A woman’s voice. He stands up. She steps out of the shadows, looking furtively behind her. She’s pretty, with brown hair and kind eyes. She looks a little familiar.

“Jackson, don’t be afraid, my name is Monica.”

“Monica Reyes,” she thinks. Well, she’s not lying about her name. That’s a start.

“Who are you?” Something tells him he doesn’t need to run, that this woman is a friend. The mind reading is getting easier by the hour, apparently.

“I’m only here as a friend, please don’t run.”

“What do you want?”

“I need to tell you something very important, something you need to know.”

“Okay, I’m listening.”

She takes a deep breath. “I don’t have much time. There’s a man here, a man who is looking for you. I think you know who I’m talking about.”

“I don’t know how long he’ll be asleep in the car… that sedative loses potency in smoke…”

“The old guy? The crazy one?”

She nods. “I want you to know he’s a liar, and you don’t have to listen to anything he says, Jackson. You don’t.”

“You mean the guy who smokes all the time? I see him, in my head. He says he’s my real father.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t listen to him. He’s not your father. He’s just a sad old man who is desperate for some validation.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Your real parents are old friends of mine. Their names are Fox Mulder and Dana Scully. I know you’ve seen them, too.”

“How do you know this? How do you know what I see? How can you know who my parents are?”

She stands in front of him now, smiling. “I’ve watched you for your entire life. I knew you so long ago.”

“I delivered you myself.”

He looks at her, incredulous. “You’ve… been watching me? My whole life?”

She nods.

“Why?”

“I’ve only been trying to keep you safe. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.”

“Do you know about me, then? Why... I am the way I am?” She has to be telling the truth, she has to be. Maybe she can give him the answers he needs.

“You deserve to know the truth after all these years.”

“And once I’ve told you, I don’t know how much longer I’ll be alive.”

Jackson is silent, waiting. He doesn’t know what to say to this.

“You were part of a secret program run by the government. Parts of the government most of the country isn’t aware of. They experiment with alien DNA, trying to create hybrids and new lifeforms. You were one of these experiments.”

Jackson is confused. Alien? He’s… an alien?

“Are you talking about this Project Crossroads thing? My parents left some papers out that I wasn’t supposed to find. They had my name on them. So I tried to find out what I could. I couldn’t get very far.”

Monica is nodding. “You were one of a number of random children who were created through this program. All of them failures, but you… you were different. You were… special.”

“Special how?”

“This bad man… the man who smokes... who oversaw the program for many years, he hadn’t counted on something. He hadn’t counted on your mother and father having such a unique combination of DNA. Combined with the alien science he used to create you, you were completely unique. You were the one they were waiting for.”

“How can you possibly know all this?” Jackson’s mind is reeling. What the hell is going on? This all sounds like something out of a movie, or a comic book. How is he a part of any of this? How can this be real?

It must be real, he thinks. After the things he’s seen, the things he’s done... She must be telling the truth.

“The people who did this, after they verified what you were, just how special you were, they planned to let your mother raise you, until you were old enough to be useful. At that point, some point far into the future, they would strike.”

“Strike? Strike how?”

“They need you, your unique physiology, to protect themselves from the coming alien apocalypse. The smoking man is insane, hell bent. He wants to unleash a plague on the entire population and use you to save himself. It has to be you, Jackson. You’re the only one who can save anyone. If he were to find you… well, it would be unthinkable.”

The pandemic. He definitely saw this in his visions.

“How did you get involved in all of this?”

“I was approached by a man named Jeffrey Spender, a couple years after your mother had to let you go. He had been the one to convince her to give you up for adoption anonymously. He knew the only way to keep you away from the smoking man was to make you disappear. And he had to make Scully believe she had no choice.”

Jackson absorbs this. “So… that’s why she gave me away?”

“She didn’t know any of this. About the experiment, about the smoking man’s involvement, none of it… she only wanted to keep you safe.”

Jackson feels a wave of heavy emotion rise within Monica.

“It was so hard for her, Jackson. I was there with her when she made the decision. I’ve never seen anyone so heartbroken. She wanted you so much. She loved you so much.”

This is all too much to take. He wanted to believe his mother didn’t want him, that he meant nothing to her. He knows now it wasn’t true, especially after hearing her in the morgue, but it would make everything so much easier if it were.

“Jeffrey Spender was able to track you with a metallic substance he injected into you as a baby. He knew exactly where you were all the time. But he knew Scully could never find out. He then enlisted my help in keeping the smoking man at bay, so he could never find you.”

“But… why couldn’t my mother be the one? Why couldn’t she protect me? Or my father?”

“There had been numerous attempts on your life, and she was afraid she just couldn’t keep you safe. What she didn’t realize is that the smoking man knows where she is, all the time. She has alien technology inside her in the form of an implant. He’s able to track her, know everything about her because of this implant. It’s what he used to make you possible, Jackson. So if she knew your whereabouts, he would know too, and you would be in danger. This is what Jeffrey Spender knew, this is why he had to convince her to let you go.”

“Did my parents know about any of this? I mean… my adoptive parents?”

“They didn’t know the truth. Your parents thought they were helping you by getting the government involved. There’s no way they could have known the real dangers.”

He thinks of his parents, dead on the kitchen floor. And of his birth mother, sending him off to strangers because just being around him put them both in danger. Will he ever be able to keep anyone safe? Can anyone truly be safe with him?

“Why now? Why is all this happening now?”

“When the Department of Defense discovered where you lived and started keeping tabs on you, I knew it wouldn’t be long before the smoking man tracked you down. Even Spender knew we needed to protect you.”

“What about these visions I keep seeing? They’re visions of the future, I know it. They’re scary, and real, and I know my birth mother sees them too.”

“The smoking man is responsible. He has control over the connection you have with your mother. It’s just a possible future, Jackson. We can prevent it. We can.”

“I’m so afraid you’re going to die and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Jackson tries to push her thoughts away, he tries, but he hears them loud and clear. He’s starting to suspect there is only one way out for him. There is only one way out for the entire planet.

“You can’t let him find you,” she is pleading now. “You can’t. Everything depends upon it.”

Jackson stares at her. This is a lot of information to take. He’s not sure what to believe anymore.

“You have to believe me, Jackson. I did everything to protect you, to protect my friends. I gave up everything, I…” she trails off, tears are welling in her eyes.

“But… why? Why are you helping me?”

Monica looks at her hands. There’s something so sad about her, something tragic, but whatever it is she isn’t thinking about it right now, so he can’t know it.

“I… had to. Your mother… she means a lot to me, Jackson. She was my friend. When I knew you were in danger, that you all were in danger… well, I did what I could. I had no idea the price I would pay.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell her any of this? Why would you keep something like this from her?” He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand any of it.

“I had to. I couldn’t tell her. I couldn’t even be in contact with her. She couldn’t know where you were or the smoking man would be right behind her. It was impossible. If she knew… if she’d known I knew where you were this entire time and didn’t tell her… she’d hate me, Jackson. So I haven’t spoken to her, not in years.”

The tears in her eyes are falling down her cheeks now. She’s so sad, such a sad person. He feels horrible for all of this, all this pain he’s caused. All these people he’s affected. He just wants it all to be over.

“Your parents loved you so much,” Monica smiles. “They’re good people. I just… need you to know that, Jackson. And the smoking man… he could never understand how much they care about you. You were just an experiment to him, but you weren’t to your parents. They’ve suffered so much, worried about you so much. If only you knew…”

She stops for a moment, and looks behind her again. He can tell she’s running out of time.

“I know he’s been in your mind. I know he can make you see things, things that aren’t true. A future that’s unwritten, that doesn’t have to be.”

“How can I stop it?”

“You die,” she thinks.

“You stay hidden," she says. "Don’t let him find you.”

Monica looks behind her one more time. “I have to go.” She walks a couple steps towards him and squints at him a bit, smiling.

“You look like him, you know? Like your father.”

She looks at him for a moment, then turns and runs away. He never sees Monica Reyes again.

***

The smoking man is in front of him, aiming a gun at his face. At Mulder’s face.

In this moment Jackson feels such relief, such release. He will end this all right now. Maybe he was meant to be here, exactly the way he’s seen it go down in his premonition.

He was meant to save his birth parents. He was meant to save the world. He was meant to die.

He wasn’t meant to be.

“The boy would rather die first, now that he knows the truth,” he tells the smoking man.

“That I’m the one who made him? That I’m William’s creator?” The old man is pointing the gun at him, smiling, his eyes manic. For a moment he wonders if the guy has actually lost his damn mind.

He doesn’t know who this man is. Hell, he doesn’t know who “William” is. He may have created William, but he didn’t create Jackson. He has no claim over Jackson whatsoever.

One thing he knows for certain is that this man is evil. He has to be stopped. He wants to tell him to go to hell but he needs to keep up this charade or this man will find him, catch him. Then everyone will die.

He knows it. He can see it.

He lifts his eyes to the sky, then closes them in acceptance. “I don’t think you can do it.”

“Then you don’t know me very well,” the old man replies, cold as ice.

The last thing Jackson sees is Fox Mulder emerging from the factory, running towards him, and the last thing he feels is despair from Dana Scully, wherever she is, before everything goes black.

***

The bullet had gone directly into his frontal lobe, and straight back into his temporal lobe.

It was a strange sensation, as if he could feel himself dying. He could feel every atom the bullet had pierced disappear into oblivion, including the connection he’d had with his mother. He doesn’t know how or why but it’s gone, and so is her pain.

He’s relieved he doesn’t have to feel that anymore, not from her.

As he bobs at the surface of the water, he sees the old man floating next to him, dead. The connection he had with this man is also completely gone. This brings him a sense of peace, that the world is somehow safe from this monster.

Jackson smiles and tears start to fall. He knows it’s over now, it’s all over. And he’s alive. He didn’t have to die after all. His relief, however, soon becomes confusion as to why and how he survived.

His hand goes to his forehead and he feels it: a large bullet hole, front and center.

...How?

Something deep inside has stirred, it’s telling him he has the power to destroy, yes… but also the power to heal. That’s a good thing, a hopeful thing.

He swims over to the dock’s edge and begins to climb the ladder. As his eyes slowly rise over the edge he sees them together, his birth parents. At first he thinks it’s just Mulder, but he then can see Scully wrapped into him as if they are one. They are holding onto each other, sobbing. He’s kissing the top of her head and she is hugging him tightly. Both their shoulders are hitching in emotion. The love he saw before is shining through, even in their grief.

He knows they loved him. He knows it.

Part of him wants to pull himself up onto the dock and run to them, saying he’s here, he’s alive, everything is okay!

But he doesn’t. Somehow he knows he doesn’t belong here. He meant what he said when he told her to let him go. The look he’d seen in Mulder’s eyes when he’d killed all those people is a look he never wants to see in his eyes again.

And not ever in her eyes.

He wants her to remember him a different way. He wants her to remember the way it was, back when they were together. He wants her to be at peace.

Don’t give up on the bigger picture.

He’d said this to her weeks ago and he still feels its weight in his heart. They have a future, and it doesn’t need to be filled with grief, and pain, and guilt.

It doesn’t need to be filled with fear for him, and of him.

Maybe he’ll see them again someday. He’s on his own again, and no one is chasing him anymore. It’s the way he wants it. For now, at least. It’s his choice.

He watches them for a few moments, just standing there, holding each other, and waits for them to depart, her head resting on his shoulder, his arm around her.

There’s a truth that enters his mind, something he couldn’t see before. He isn’t a monster. He isn’t a mutant. He isn’t evil.

Something evil could never have come from a love like that.

SCULLY

A conversation between two friends on a rock led to an observation she couldn’t deny for years.

Mulder, a modern day Captain Ahab, endlessly searching for the white whale that was his truth. At the time she’d felt frustrated, even annoyed that she couldn’t seem to get it.

Now, oh boy, does she ever get it.

She’d been on the sidelines for years, watching Mulder search for his sister with steadfast determination. She’d shared in his pain as any friend would, and later in their relationship she shared it in a more powerful way. When he’d finally learned the truth and could let Samantha go, it was such a relief; for both him and for her.

Now she’s at the helm of the Pequod, staring ahead at the horizon, searching for her own white whale.

This is a bit too long for tumblr, so to continue reading, please click here.

Thanks for reading, Tumblr fam!

#msr #txf #the x files #fanfiction #jackson van de kamp #my struggle 4 #even if you hated the finale #give it a shot #culmination

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windsorgirllove · 5 years ago

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The Prince and The King: Dirk Strider and Kazuaki Nanaki

It may be 4 whole months after the Epilogues came out, but guess what - I’m still thinking about Dirk Strider. And who can blame me, considering… well, everything. Dirk caused a lot of different reactions from everyone, but the way that his character finally clicked for me was watching him take over Jake’s mind and realizing “oh, he’s trying to ‘all will be one with the King’ them”. And then I realized that that would make sense to literally one other person in the whole world, so I decided to write an essay about it. As you do.

Spoilers for Homestuck, including the epilogue, and Hatoful Boyfriend and Hatoful Boyfriend: Holiday Star.

I. Who are these nerds?

For those of you who don’t know, I’ll give a quick summary of these two characters before I start comparing them.

A. Dirk Strider

Dirk Strider is one of the human characters in Homestuck. He is the biological father of Dave Strider and Rose Lalonde, and is an alternate Universe version of Bro Strider. He grew up alone in a post apocalyptic world after an alien queen took over Earth. He is the Prince of Heart and a Derse Dreamer. He is a big gay nerd. In the Homestuck Epilogues, his worst traits come out: his self obsession and his splinter selves that come about due to Heart shenanigans, which led to him making some… morally dubious decisions. By which I mean obtained ultimate power and started rewriting the wills of his friends because “he knows best”. Also he’s aware of the fact he’s in a story now, so he became the narrator. And in one of the timelines present in the Epilogues, he killed himself.

B. Kazuaki Nanaki/The King

Kazuaki Nanaki is a bird featured in Hatoful Boyfriend: Holiday Star. He is a depressed college student studying literature. He fell in love with a boy who ended up pushing him further and further into depression, until the two of them decided to kill themselves. Kazuaki went through with it, his boyfriend did not. He woke up in the afterlife alone and scared. He ends up creating a star from a candle and a chair, which attracts other souls to it’s light. He lured people in because he was lonely, but didn’t want to get hurt again, so he absorbed all the souls into his will, and became the King of the star. And then all the characters end up in the afterlife too, most of whom are still alive, and it’s a whole thing.

So how are they similar? Well, they both are clearly mentally ill, both gay, both killed themselves, both took over the wills of their close friends. Let’s look at their big three narrative similarities: their ascension, their revenge on boyfriends, and their takeovers of will.

II. The Ultimate Self v Kinghood

The Ultimate Self is a concept that was brought up at the end of Homestuck and was explored properly in the Homestuck Epilogues. It seems to be the endpoint for all of the godtiers, wherein they fully realize their Aspect. For example, Rose is ascending as well, and since her aspect is Light (ie knowledge), she gains knowledge of all timelines all at once. Dirk’s aspect, meanwhile, is Heart, which here means soul, so his Ultimate Self is all his splinters combining into one person. (As I sidenote, I wonder how much their classes play into this - Rose is a Seer and is seeing timelines, and Dirk is a Prince and is destroying everyone’s sense of self). It also appears to come along with an awareness of the narrative structure and the fact that they are in the story, which certainly does wonders for the mind. Dirk takes control of it - the narrative, that is - because he believes that he knows best for all his friends.

One thing we know for certain is the ascending fucking hurts. To quote Rose Lalonde: “I am ascending, and it’s terrible.” This process was enough to fully push Dirk over from “has poor judgement and a god complex” to full blown “evil and knows it.” He gains the power to take away the free will of all the other characters, and wants to make them all ascend and then stick their consciousness into robots that he made, because it’s “better” for them. He already carries this plan out with Rose, who he selected to be first because she’s the most like him. Essentially, he wants to make everyone just like him.

Meanwhile, Kinghood seems to have a lot of similarities. Kazuaki seems to gain some reality warping powers once he dies - he is able to transform a room with a candle and a chair into a star with a lighthouse and a throne. He basically makes his world run on fairy tale logic. This extends even to his form. Throughout the game, the characters are represented by photos of birds. However, when Kazuaki is the King, he is rendered in watercolors like the rest of the Holiday Star. Later, when he gets angry, he distorts into a darker colored being with multiple heads, and in his true form he is a monochrome pencil sketch. He also can appear anywhere on the star at any time, because all the residents of the star are under his hivemind. He can control the layout of his home, which is also visible from the outside (in the real world). He can create zones in the star specific to the people within in order to convince them to become one with him. And perhaps scariest of all, he can know the secrets of the people in the star, and toture them with their deepest darkest fear.

So ascending and Kinghood are very similar, except that Kinghood seems to be more in the line of eldritch horror.

III. “I’ll Never Let You Break My Heart Again”

Dirk and Kazuaki also have meaningful romantic relationships with other boys that go super duper bad and end up being their start of darkness. Their whole evil plan can basically be boiled down to getting revenge on the boy who wronged them.

A. Jake

Jake English is the boy that Dirk was in love with. He is from the same universe as Dirk, but from several centuries in the past (which is the present for us). He is the biological father of Jade Harley and John Egbert. He grew up alone on an island in the Pacific, and styles himself as a manly adventurer. Jake and Dirk end up dating when they enter the game, and break up after a few months because they’re dumb teens who can’t communicate and so are all of their friends. In the Epilogues, Jake is unwillingly wed to Jane Crocker, another of their friends, in the Candy Timeline. In the Meat Timeline, Dirk has taken control of the narration and forces Jake to confess his love for Dirk in front of a huge crowd.

B. Uzune

Hitori Uzune was the guy that Kazuaki was in love with. He was a fellow college student at the university Kazuaki was attending, and was similarly fucked up and depressed. He convinces Kazuaki that they should kill themselves, and the two of them overdose on pills. But just as Kazuaki is drifting away Hitori gets up and steals Kazuaki’s identity in order to get revenge for his dead brother. That whole thing is actually the main plot of the game, kinda. Hitori refuses to call an ambulance for Kazuaki even as he changes his mind, and let’s him die.

C. Angry Gay Selfrightousness

So first of all I think we can agree that Kazuaki is a little more valid for going off the deep end here. But they both did have a similar experience in love. Both of them felt deeply betrayed by the boy they loved. Both of them were super pissed about this, and it shows in their supervillain plans. Neither of the are directly setting out to get revenge, but their desire is written all over their actions.

With Dirk, he spends an inordanent amount of time calling Jake stupid while he is posing as the narrator, as well as inserting thoughts about himself into Jake’s mind when he’s about to have sex with Jane. (He’s also just weirdly horny the whole epilogue, in general.) After driving Jake to do his public confession in the Meat timeline, Dirk responds with “And to love Dirk is to obey him” in the narration. And finally, right before he’s about to fuck of to space Dirk plans this epic confrontation that ends with the quote that heads this section.

As for Kazuaki, the whole way he was able to become the King was because of the trauma that Hitori put him through, namely the killing him part. He absorbed people because of not wanting to be left alone again. And once Hitori enters the dream he turns all his focus onto him, blinding him and forcing him into a small pocket of the dream so he can’t hurt anyone again. And even after he is defeated he still reaches out and tries to grab Hitori.

Even when the two of them try to move on, they can’t.

IV. “All Will Become One With the King” - Narrative Takeovers and the Hivemind

In order for there to be a narrative takeover, there has to be a narrative in the first place. And both Homestuck and Hatoful Boyfriend certainly have one, and I don’t mean in the sense that they are a story that we consume. I mean that there is a narrative thread that the characters themselves are aware of.

A. Homestuck “Canon”

Let’s start with Homestuck, which in the Epilogues actually brought the term “canon” into the vocabulary of the characters via one Rose Lalonde. As a Seer and fanfiction writer, it makes sense she would be familiar with it. In the epilogues she discovered that there was something wrong with the timeline they were in - it was “non-canon”. This is different from the timeline being doomed, although it is similar. In both cases it means the timeline in question is fading away.

As defined by Rose, in order for a timeline to be canon, it has to be three things: 1. It has to be true, 2. It has to be essential, and 3. It has to be relevant. True as in true, essential as in essential to the characters or the story, and relevant as in relevant to the audience. Knowledge of the idea of canon seems to come along with ascending to the Ultimate Self, since the only people who know about it are Rose, Dirk, and Alt!Calliope.

Once Dirk ascends and realizes that the timeline they’re in is “non-canon”, he seizes control of the narrative in order to steer it back to canon and stop it from fading away. And once he takes control, he gains the same knowledge that the author would have of all the characters (except for Roxy because of his voidy-ness). He also wants to make everyone else ascend to their Ultimate Selves as well, and then take away their agency. How this worked is that he believes that their bodies wouldn’t be able to handle ascending (even though his did) and he makes them robot bodies because he’s just so nice. And the first people he assimilates are Rose and Dave, his children. And also as I said above, he inserted thoughts into people's heads and made them do things they wouldn’t normally do.

And Dirk taking control of the narrative isn’t an isolated incident, either. The narration has been passed around like a basketball, or more accurately stolen like loose change by a clumsy pickpocket. For the most part it is regulated to the cherubs - Caliborn and Calliope, as well as Doc Scratch - and Andrew Hussie. And that’s not even to mention all the people that give commands to the characters. The fabric of the text is very present in Homestuck.

B. The All Knowing Eyes of the King

The King also tries to take control of the narrative as well, although not in the same way as Dirk. He isn’t aware of the fact that he is in a story in the same way. However, by trying to bring the whole cast into his hive mind he is essentially taking control of the narrative, since whoever controls the characters controls the story. He can’t full on insert thoughts into people’s heads like Dirk, but he can know the secrets of the people in the Holiday Star, similar to Dirk gaining the knowledge of the author. Then he uses a person’s deepest fear to convince them that the world outside is too scary, too dangerous, and it is safer to stay with him. Plus he uses creepy picture books to do it, which is certainly an aesthetic choice.

Two of the best examples of this is how he deals with Shuu and Yuuya. In Shuu’s case, it’s his most effective argument for staying on the Holiday Star - possibly because it is so similar to his own. Shuu was in love with a (married) colleague of his, but never told him, even as he passed away. Being as this was the only person Shuu cared about, he fell into a depression and also started murdering people. The King convinced him that there was nothing more in the real world that he could find a use for - that it would be better if he stayed here, where he could experiment and research forever. It worked so well that it took the ghost of his love to shake him out of it.

On the opposite side of this we have Yuuya. Yuuya was not actually supposed to be on the Holiday Star, but he dove in (basically) in order to save his little brother. And The King probably had the best chance of blackmailing him, because Yuuya has done some shit - including the murder of his infant half-brother. He did this in order to help his little brother, but still, jeez. The King uses this to convince him that he’s a bad person, that he would be better off in the Star, where his guilt couldn’t hurt him anymore. This doesn’t work, mainly because Yuuya is a more emotionally mature person that the King. He refused to be converted, because all the bad things he’s done has made him the person he is today, and to get rid of that would be irresponsible. His whole speech ends with this truly phenomenal quote: “It’s my grief. And you can’t have it.”

V. Conclusion

So, what have I learned from this? Um, don’t trust gay men I guess. And also that mental illness and suicide is a very serious thing. I feel that with this essay I have run into the problem that my professors have told me numerous times - I can identify an interesting point, but I have trouble drawing meaning from this. So if any of you can figure out what this connection means, please let me know! Mostly to me it seems like there are definite links between my favorite stories, and it’s that giving in to despair is not the answer.

VI. Miscellaneous: The Meta of HB - Hiyoko as the Narrator

Hatoful Boyfriend is not quite as meta as Homestuck - nothing really is. But it isn’t the benchmark of weirdness for dating games for nothing. And most of this weirdness revolves around Hiyoko, which makes sense. She is the narrator after all - and I don’t just mean that in the normal story sense. I mean that in the Homestuck sense as well.

Hiyoko is aware of the fact that she is in a game. She makes references to her stats, and is aware of the interface of the screen. She also doesn’t know the name of the town she’s lived in all her life until someone else says it in Holiday Star, because it was never established in the first game. She is also aware of alternate universes of each romance route. Because Hiyoko dies. A lot. She dies in Shuu’s route, in the neutral route, and in the true route. And in Holiday Star (which in it of itself is an alternate universe to the main game) she meets Death and is able to recognize him from all the other times she’s died.

The important thing to get from all this is that unlike Some People, Hiyoko never goes crazy from this fact. She’s in a game, and she knows it, and she’s cool with it. It should probably be pointed out that Hiyoko is dumb as a box of rocks, and with ignorance comes bliss, they say. But still, it is interesting to see an example of a character with meta knowledge who manages to deal with it, instead of going full supervillain.

#homestuck #hatoful boyfriend #homestuck epilogue #hs epilogue #hb #hatoful boyfriend holiday star #dirk strider #kazuaki nanaki #the king (hatoful boyfriend)#hs meta #My writing #she speaks!#six whole pages #be grateful #also let me know what you think!

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carlottastudios · 6 years ago

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Do you guys remember a long long long ass time ago when I made posts about an original series idea of mine called Dawnlyte? Well, Dawnlyte is not the only original series I'm planning. This one, oh boy, this one is one I'm been INTENSELY planning and putting thought and work into for the past few months. Like Dawnlyte, this is an idea that's been in my mind for years now (not as many as Dawnlyte, but still quite a few), and now I finally feel ready to post something about it. Peoples, I present you my first ever post about Fabler! Unlike Dawnlyte, which is high fantasy like Lord of the Rings or The Dragon Prince, Fabler is an urban fantasy series like Harry Potter, Dresden Files and Spiderwick Chronicles. This series in particular is very much inspired by Harry Potter, but with way less of a focus on school and way more focus on how fun magic can be. Also, whereas Harry Potter has plenty of witches and wizards, Fabler follows a logic much more akin to The Wizard of Oz, because there are plenty of witches and, so far, only 1 wizard. Also, there's quite a bit of mythology showing up in Fabler as well, particularly a certain character whom I've been wanting to write in a sympathetic light for ages now and now I finally can! That's all I'll say for now here, but if you guys have any and all questions about the series, feel free to ask them and I'll try to answer without giving away too many spoilers. Also, I'll try to post more Fabler content in the future that can answer some of those questions (or create more questions). But now getting to these particular posts. Very recently, I've finally been able to establish the very basic plot for the main story of Fabler and, thus, I was able to determine all of the characters who'll come into play. At least, all of the characters who have enough of a role to merit a name. And when I finally got my list of named characters, I decided to do something Ive been longing to do since I discovered @thenamelessdoll's crossover To Belong series: make my own Non/Disney Crossover cast for my own story. And so that's what I did here! I got my whole list of named Fabler characters and, after much searching and deliberating, decided on which 2D animated Disney or very-similar-to-Disney character would "play" as them if I were ever to make a Non/Disney Crossover series of videos for Fabler (which I will tell you now I will probably never do as I don't have the right programs for making Non/Disney Crossover edits, not to mention my talents lie more in writing and drawing, not video editing). And now, I think I might as well explain some of the reasons for my casting choices! Why? Because I can and because I am SOOO excited to finally be talking about Fabler!

Kayley as Tarina: This was the first ever casting choice and it was one I've had right from the beginning, pretty much since I came up with Tarina. Tarina is the main character and I kinda based her on Kayley in a few ways. And not just her appearance, I swear. Because yes, Tarina is supposed to look like Kayley in terms of character design. Also, Kayley was one of my favourite characters ever growing up and I believe she deserves more attention. So I'm putting her in the spotlight here by having her play the role of my main girl Tarina! Kida as Kat: Kat was more challenging to cast. I was thinking of having her played by Audrey, since both are pretty tough girls. But Kat's not super rough the way Audrey comes off as being. So I wanted someone a bit more gentle and easily approachable. Oddly, the badass warrior princess who can wield spears and knives kinda fits that more. Also, Kat isn't actually a total tomboy and I felt casting Audrey as her would give off that impression. Also, both Kida and Kat have names that start with K and both of them are lovely ladies with long white hair. So that lines up! Belle as Celeste: Celeste is kind of the opposite of Kat in that you might think at first that she's a total girly girl, but she's not, and the wrong cast choice would've given off that impression. Yes, Celeste is very feminine and beautiful and refined and classy, like Belle. She's also very mature like Belle. Also, she tends to be one of the more responsible people in a group of friends, similar to Hermoine (whose actress also played as Belle in the Live Action Disney version there's another connection). Basically, Belle was my dream choice as the casting choice for Celeste! Mulan as Neva: Mulan was actually my very first choice for Neva, because their stories are actually really similar. Unlike the three previous girls, Neva is not a witch, so when she arrives into the story, she's a complete noob and she's going to need some help before she becomes a badass. Mulan's been there and done that! Also, I just love Mulan as a character and really wanted to include her in my lineup. She also resembles Neva in part because Neva is one of the few girls to have sleek short hair. Also, Mulan's fun personality matches well with my happy darling Neva. Eilonwy as Peah: Peah is one of the younger characters in the story, just as Eilonwy is one of the younger female Disney heroes. Aside from that, both of them have this sort of determined and kind of commanding air to them that only brave little girls can exhibit in their particular style. Both are young, but they're not to be messed with. Also, they're both not really the sort to stand aside while the action is going on. Peah is young, yes, but she's more capable than others expect, and I feel that Eilonwy has the right vibe for that. Jasmine as Ashley: Now this is the tomboy of the group! And I'm having Jasmine play as her instead of someone like Audrey. Why? Well, Jasmine's just way more fiery in my eyes. And "fiery" is what Ashley is. In more ways than one. Also, Jasmine used to be my favourite Disney princess and I still really love her, so I wanted to give her a nice role in my cast. Strangely though, Jasmine and Ashley have very different backstories. Jasmine is a princess while as Ashley is one of the furthest people from princess status as you can get. It's ironic, but oddly, I find it weirdly works. Crysta as Thistlemoth: Now, I haven't actually seen the movie where Crysta is from, but I've seen her in Non/Disney Crossover videos quite a few times. And her design of being a fairy or pixie or whatever is so perfectly similar to Thistlemoth (who is indeed a pixie) that denying this casting choice would've been sheer madness. Of course, by that logic, I probably could've gone with Tinkerbell too, but Tinkerbell's personality is VERY different from sweet, crazy Thistlemoth. Plus, Crysta's more "wild" looks are more in line with what Thistlemoth looks like. Sarah as Bianca: Like with Crysta as Thistlemoth, I haven't seen the movie where Sarah is from. I've only seen Sarah in Non/Disney Crossover videos. In all honesty, I don't have super-good reason for this choice of casting aside from looks. Sarah does look similar to what I want Bianca to look like. Only with a snake tail instead of legs. Yup. That's right. Bianca is a naga. I have nagas in my story. Also, another reason I admit I chose Sarah is because, from the Non/Disney videos I've seen her in, some of her mannerisms are kind of in line with Bianca too. Meg as Lilith: Yes, you read that name right. I have Lilith, the actual first woman and Adam's first wife, in my story. No, she is not the character I've been wanting to write for ages. Anyway, about the casting, Meg's mannerisms and personality are really in line with my version of Lilith. Lilith even has a pretty sad backstory that's sort of similar to Meg's. I won't explain it here because that is spoiler territory. Their looks are rather different though. Lilith's more similar to Jasmine, who was actually cast as Lilith before I realized Meg was a much better fit. Cinderella as Ericaine: You've probably noticed that this is a bit of a last-minute change. At first, Ariel was in the role of Ericaine, much to my reluctance. But, honestly, her personality and looks and mannerisms are really different from Ericaine. So why had I initially considered her? Because I had previously cast Cinderella as someone else. But now, I'm using Cinderella because her looks match up very well with Ericaine, as do her actions, and I like putting her in the spotlight more than Ariel! Ericaine isn't nearly as sweet as Cindy, though. She's more...temperamental. Ariel as Eir: You've probably guessed that I'm not the biggest Ariel fan. I'm not. And I confess I fought tooth and nail to not have to include her in my cast. But, in the end, ya gotta do what you gotta do. At least now, as Eir, she's in a much more suitable role. Eir is funloving and adventurous, much like Ariel, so that lines up great for me to use Ariel as her. There's also a bit of a connection when it comes to a male character that I might explain later, or maybe not. Feel free to ask me about it though. Melody as Raven: I was originally going to have Shanti as Raven, but, seriously, Melody and her story and personality just line up SO MUCH BETTER! If I explain it here, it's going to be spoilers-a-plenty, but I'll just say that when you think about it, it's seriously perfect. Raven is different looks-wise (I'm actually thinking that she's blond instead of...well, raven-haired), but Melody's just got the right attitude and actions for her. As you might've guessed, Raven is another pretty young character. I think she's actually even younger than Peah, but I'll have to check my notes again. Jim as Lucifer: YES! This is the character I've been wanting to write for so long!!! Because the devil has been treated as little more than a scapegoat for millennia and I want to write a story where he's actually a nice, sympathetic guy. Yes, I know the show Lucifer is already doing that, but I want to do it my own way. And Jim was always my first casting choice. Because 1) I'm a huge JimxKayley shipper, 2) Jim was one of my heroes growing up, and 3) the angst-ball teenager who grows into a capable young man is exactly what I need for my version of the devil! Aladdin as Rory: This was one of the easiest cast choices ever. Not because Rory is a street urchin who ends up finding a genie, but because Rory is a sweet fluffy supposed-orphan boy who is a beam of sunshine, yet still has his serious and deep sides. Fits with Aladdin's emotional state in his movies, don't you think? Also, Aladdin looks similar to how I envision Rory. He's admittedly older than what Rory's supposed to be (Rory's supposed to be slightly younger than Tarina), but aside from that, it's a pretty great match! Like I said, Aladdin was my first choice. Milo as Chayce: Chayce is sooooo much grumpier and sassier than Milo, but he is just as awkward and smart. Yes, he's the nerd of the group and I adore him. I mean, I love all my characters, including my grumpy white-lion boy. Yes, I said white lion boy. Chayce is a sphinx, which is a species I'm particularly proud of. As a result, he is way way fluffier than Milo, physically. Milo's way fluffier personality-wise. Milo is the adorkable kind of nerd, while as Chayce is the more smartass kind of nerd. But it's still the best fit I could find for my cast. Taran as Andrew: I feel that Taran doesn't get enough attention, so I'm going to give it to him! Andrew is a character who keeps popping up in Fabler and the more he does, the more I've grown to love him. He actually used to be quite different than what he is now, and I honestly have no clue who I would've used as his non/Disney counterpart had I not changed his character. Now though, Taran's a surprisingly nice fit for my misguided baby Andrew. They both desperately want renown and both suffer from their efforts. Also, they're both young lads with floofy hair! Shang as Mato: Nothing I say will convince you that Shang playing Mato who (spoiler alert) will get with Neva who is being played by Mulan was a happy accident, will it? Because I swear it was! Shang just fits Mato's role nicely! Granted, Mato is not a captain of his group, but he is an experienced member of a fighting organization in Fabler, the warlocks if you must know (feel free to ask me about them), and he does help train Neva as well as protect people like the witches and especially Apus (woops, another spoiler). As for looks...um...I'll have to get back to you on that. Garrett as Liam: This was a surprisingly tough cast choice to make. Despite the number of "prince charming" figures in Disney to choose from, none of them are actually fitting in my opinion for the "prince charming" like character. Because Liam IS based on prince charming! From Cinderella specifically! And yet Cindy's prince Charming was NOT A GOOD FIT! It makes me laugh, it hurts so much! So, why did I go for Garrett? 1) he and his movie don't get enough attention, 2) his looks are a decent fit and 3) his serious nature and the fact that he's a legit warrior fits Liam well. Miguel as Edmund: This was another super-easy cast choice to make. Miguel's features loosely match some of Edmund's, particularly the blond hair. However, it's mostly Miguel's demeanor and mannerisms and energy that fit Edmund to a T. Edmund is just so playful and flamboyant and also a little goofy. All of which describe Miguel, I find. Miguel is also pretty flirty at times throughout his movie. So he's actually more restrained than Edmund, whom I affectionately call the slut or the thot of my cast. Because he totally is! And I love him for it! Prince Phillip as Darius Ray: I did NOT want to cast one of my favourite ever princes as this asshole. Because make no mistake, Darius Ray is an asshole, one who borders on sociopathy. Pretty much the opposite of Phillip, who is a genuinely awesome guy! So why did I make this cast choice?! Well, it was better than the first one I did, as you! Darius used to be played by Peter Pan, but I just COULD NOT follow through with that! Peter is just so precious and he's way too young to play Darius. Phillip has the age going for him, plus some of Phillip's playfulness and body type. Kenai as Apus: This is another looks-based casting choice. I haven't seen Brother Bear in a really long time, but I remember that Kenai's more rash personality is way different than calm and gentle Apus. But Kenai is a very fluffy-looking boy (and I'm not just talking about when he's a bear) and that fluffy is one of Apus's main physical traits. Fitting, since Apus is a yeti. Yes, yetis are a sentient species and they are more humanoid-looking than how they're traditionally depicted. Also, Kenai is mostly not human in his movie, which fits because Apus is a more minor character. Tulio as Mephistopheles: These two have looks that differ quite a bit, but I still wanted Tulio, from the get-go, to be Mephistopheles' Non/Disney counterpart. Because I've seen Tulio depicted as a villain in a few Non/Disney projects at this point and I want to counter that. Because I love Tulio! He's so funny! And Mephistopheles is a funny guy. Admittedly, he's still more cool-headed than Tulio, but he's a huge dork and I love him. Also, a few of Tulio's incredibly funny mannerisms fit well with Meph, particular in his interactions with Lucifer, who is, of course, his boss. Cale as Gabriel: Now isn't this an ironic choice? Cale is a cynical and rebellious character while as the angel Gabriel, in my story, is a stickler to the rules. But he is very jaded when it comes to his "little brother" Lucifer. And Cale, to me, kinda looks like he could be Jim's older brother with whom he doesn't get along. Kinda. But also, Cale has had moments in his movie where he's being more agressive and angry, and that certainly fits how Gabriel acts around Lucifer for most of the story. Also I just like Titan AE, okay? Hercules as Conor: Is it ironic that I'm having Hercules play a character who is a centaur? Because Conor is a centaur and Hercules fought a centaur in his movie? No? Not ironic? Okay. Still, I just thought it was interesting to point out. Another thing to point out is that Hercules has the perfect jock vibe to fit with Conor, who is such a golden boy it's impossible not to roll your eyes at him at least once. But he's not all ego. Conor's actually a nice guy and a good friend, much like how Hercules is a very good boy. Helga as Thelen: Have you ever been in a situation where the perfect cast choice just gift-wraps itself for you? Because that was the case with this choice! I'm just surprised that I didn't think of Helga immediately when I came up with Thelen's character! Their looks match up very well. The only remarkable difference is that Thelen is younger than Helga, or at least she seems younger. But aside from that, their features match great, their intimidating and domineering personalities are a great fit and especially the fact that both are very competent fighters! Odette as Diantha: Odette was my first cast choice for Diantha, but I almost didn't go with her for fear that I might need to use Odette for another role. But luckily, I didn't have to compromise that perfect cast choice! Okay, granted, there's still some differences between these two ladies. Odette, in her movie, has some moments where she's angry, but Diantha is much more so. She's rather strict in a motherly way, but she's also very regal and queen-like, at least it's how I always imagine her. And Odette often has that kind of regal dignity, I find. Sarah as Hiverein: This was honestly a casting choice I hadn't expected to make. Hiverein, in terms of looks, is rather different from Sarah Hawkins. While as Sarah is a normal human woman and looks it, Hiverein is the queen of the fairies, and in looks, she lives up to that. But there is nonetheless a connection in their characters. Both of these ladies are loving mothers, Sarah to Jim and Hiverein to her son Royse. Hiverein is also a queen who isn't afraid to be hands-on when it comes to taking care of her people, which reminds me of Sarah running her inn. Tiana as Greylyn: Personality-wise, Greylyn and Tiana have similarities. Both are extremely hard-working and dedicated to their goals, though these goals are very different. Tiana has personal ambitions of wanting a restaurant while as Greylyn is trying to lead and nurture her coven as well as she possibly can. Yet both women are good at putting a smile on their faces for the people watching them work. They also both deal in food a lot. Their looks are fairly similar as well, though how similar, I'm not sure yet, because I haven't finalized Greylyn's design yet. Asenath as Lillah: Even though she doesn't play a huge role in her movie, Asenath was actually one of my favourite characters as a child, so I was eager to find a place for her in my cast. And I think Lillah is a great fit. Lillah is a very calm character who tends to have a soothing presence whenever she arrives in a scene (kind of funny, given she's a ghost). Asenath, to me, was always very calming, which is partly why I liked her as a kid. Asenath was also a voice of reason in her movie and Lillah definitely acts as that in Fabler. Empress Marie as Norn: Goodness gracious has Norn's cast choice changed! I used to have her played by Tzipporah, but that would be pretty innacurate because of Norn's age. Norn is in her early 60s during the story of Fabler, while as Tzipporah is way younger, despite the fact that she looks similar to Norn. I went with empress Marie instead in hopes of that she would reflect the age a bit better, although I think Marie is older than early 60s. But there are some things Marie has going for her that still liken her to Norn: her grandmotherly kindness and regal presence. Madame Adelaide as Leira: Very similarly to Norn, Leira is in her late 50s-early 60s during Fabler, but my first cast choice for her really didn't reflect that. Her original cast choice was Cinderella, which is why it took me a while to finally cast Cinderella as Ericaine. But now I think that madame Adelaide is a better fit. Not just because of her age though. Madame is extremely caring and doting towards her cats, and Leira is similar towards another character in Fabler. Also, madame is very wealthy and Leira kind of has an equivalent to that in that she's very magically gifted. Esmeralda as Arwa: Esmeralda was my first choice for Arwa, much like Odette was for Diantha and Aladdin was for Rory. Arwa is supposed to look similar to Esmeralda, especially with her brightly-coloured eyes (though Arwa's are yellow instead of green, but you gotta admit that Esmeralda's eyes are a strikingly bright green). Arwa is also incredibly fierce like Esmeralda, and just like Esmeralda seems to be a kind of leader of the gypsies, Arwa is a leader of her pack of werewolves. Both are defiant and utterly badass ladies and, in short, this was a perfect cast match. Anya as the Fabler: Oh goodie, goodie, goodie, the titular fabler cometh at last! But I'm not going to tell you a lot about her! She's an incredibly mysterious and unknown character, which is strangely fitting because Anya's movie is inspired by the mystery of the princess Anastasia. But even putting that aside, Anya is a great cast choice for the Fabler. Their looks line up very well (if not their outfits), their mannerisms and expressions too, and the way the Fabler presents herself to the characters is very fun and sparky in a way very similar to Anya. Juliana as Hera: I know you're thinking. You're thinking "ANOTHER Quest for Camelot character, Carlotta, really?!" YES! Really! I love this movie, okay?! And Juliana does fit reasonably well with how I'm interpreting Hera in Fabler. Juliana is the wife of a knight, and so she seems like a bit of a noblewoman and she carries herself well in that regard. Heck, this woman showed no fear from the movie's villain, Rubert, until he started threatening her daughter. Hera is similar in that she is a total boss! But she's not as helpful to the protagonists as Juliana was in her story. Marina as Jeyne: You wanna know something really ironic? Even though I am including Kayley's canonical mom in the cast, Marina is the one playing Tarina's character's mother. Yes, Jeyne is Tarina's mom and I have Marina in her role. I don't have much reason for this casting choice, except that it's one I've had pretty much from the start of the making of this cast. Also, the fact I'm using such an awesome character as Marina makes me sad that Jeyne doesn't have a bigger role in the main story of Fabler. Because while, yes, she does appear, she doesn't do a whole lot. Eris as Merlina: Eris is not going to be happy that I'm using her, a goddess, to play the role of a mere ghost, isn't she? Too bad! There was no way I wasn't going to include Eris, since she's one of my favourite parts of the movie she's from. She does have quite a few differences from Merlina though. Merlina was once human and her story is way more tragic than Eris's. She is a villain, but she's one of those villains who thinks she's in the right. Not the same as Eris, who knows she's evil and has fun with it. But both ladies are also very manipulative and destructive. John Smith as Royse: I love my character Royse but he was SO DANG DIFFICULT TO CAST! And even now, believe me, it's not a perfect fit. For the longest time, I thought that his Non/Disney counterpart would be Garrett, because of his long hair, serious nature, connection to nature, combative skills and the fact he has a staff for a weapon. Buuuutttt that'd be awkward for me, since Garrett is Kayley's canon love interest, he'd be playing as her father figure. So I went with John Smith because he seems older than Garrett. Even though his personality is very different. John Rolfe as Gawyn: Unlike Royse, Gawyn's cast choice was pretty easy peasy. John Rolfe has some of the looks I'm going for with it comes to Gawyn (even though Gawyn's hair is way curlier) and the same air of dignity. But Gawyn is much more...shall we say, quirky than Gawyn. And he's unashamed of it. So I guess you can say that there's still dignity in that and I agree. But yeah, John Rolfe is more serious than Gawyn and his looks aren't nearly as fantastical. But he was nonetheless the first to come to mind as a Non/Disney counterpart when I came up with Gawyn. Eric as Favian: Like Royse, Favian's cast choice has frequently changed. Partly because every time I changed Royse's cast choice, I wanted his hubby to have a cast choice that I could pair him up with. But now I'm happy I stuck with Eric. Personality, he's rather light-hearted, which is fitting with Favian's demeanor. There's still several changes, of course, like with his looks. Now, I haven't fully decided on Favian's look, but I know that while his dark hair matches Eric, he's certainly not as light-complected as the prince. Kale as Valerik: Derek was at first the one I was going to choose for Valerik. But then I remember Kale and I was like "Carlotta, you crazy! Kale is a WAY better fit!" First, there's looks. Like many of my characters (for now), I don't have a full design for Valerik yet, but it ressembles Kale's the more and more I think about it. Second, Kale seems like a good, calm leader, which Valerik is. Third, Kale seems like he'd be great with kids, and Valerik is a proud papa of a bunch of wee nippers. Not to say Derek doesn't have some of these qualities, but Kale just has more. Dimitri as Robin: Once again, a cast member that I was surprised I didn't think of sooner. I mean, Robin is something of a con man, but has some depths to him that take a while for the other characters to unlock. That's Dimitri in a nutshell, right?! Plus, Dimitri's often whacky expressions or mannerisms suit Robin well. As does Dimitri's slight tendency to be the glutton for punishment in the movie he's from. Moses as Tyrone: Tyrone doesn't look entirely like Moses, but I nonetheless feel that they have a few similarities in appearance. Tyrone is at least a bit paler, being a vampire (one of the few good ones in the Fabler universe, which is why I'm okay having a sweetheart like Moses play him), and the outfit will very much different, of course, but still, the looks are a good base for what I'm hoping for him to look like. Temperament-wise, though, I'll admit Moses isn't my best choice, as Tyrone isn't exactly all that sane when we first meet him in the story. He gets better though. Phoebus as Odin: I'll admit it. Phoebus is quite a bit younger than how Odin is supposed to be portrayed. But, in my defense, Odin is also an immortal god with divine power, so it's not out of the question that he could look rather good for his age. But also, both males are, of course, warriors. Yes, Odin may be more of a trickster and wiseman god, but he's not shy from a fight either. In Fabler, in fact, he does quite a bit of it. Also, Phoebus is capable of being serious, but also really friendly and joking, which is so perfect for how I want my boy Odin! Proteus as Hades: Yes, yes, yes, I know. I know that Disney already gave us Hades. And I do love Disney's Hades. However, I love more-early-source-accurate, good-boy, very-much-not-a-villain-you-fools Hades even more! So, why'd I choose Proteus for this version of Hades? His looks aren't tooooo far from the mark (certainly the long lovely ponytail isn't far), he's got a very good personality to go at least somewhat with Hades and many of his mannerisms fit well. All in all, 10/10 choice for me. Arthur as Baldur: LAST TIME I SWEAR! This is the last time I'm using a Quest for Camelot character, I promise! But yeah, here's the thing: I have NEVER! Not once! Ever seen Arthur used in a Non/Disney project! He wasn't used ONCE, to my knowledge! And, I mean, I can understand why. He really doesn't appear much in the movie. BUT! I'm not letting that stop me here! Arthur here actually does really fit with how I'm interpreting Baldur, AKA God (yes, as in Lucifer's dad), not just in looks, but in mannerisms as well. I'm happy I'm using this underused character! Sinbad as Syrus: You know something kind of ironic? Sinbad is normally portrayed, in Non/Disney, as Jim's father, or sometimes older brother (lookin at you TB). But I have seen him used as Kayley's father too and, honestly, I really like that as well. He's got the looks for it and the adventurous spirit. Which brings me to Syrus. His hair colour is admittedly a bit redder than Sinbad's (gotta explain where Tarina got her red hair from) and his eyes are different, but the rest fits neatly into how I envision Tarina's father. And again, I'm now sad he doesn't do more in the story. Dymus as Nightinion: Nightinion, much like Syrus, is another father who's one of the less important named characters. Specifically, he is Ericaine's father. But, nonetheless, I felt he was important enough to include in my cast. And why did I go with Dymas? Well, first off, he's a king. But there are, admittedly, quite a few Non/Disney kings. So why Dymas in particular? Well, something about him makes me feel like he has more strength and command than most Non/Disney kings, yet is still diplomatic and courteous. All of which are what I see in Nightinion. Dean as Natsbane: I love Dean. Really, I do. So I'm really sad for putting him in the role of this jerk. Because, while Natsbane isn't totally evil, he is not a nice guy. But something about Dean's general grumpy and unfriendly exterior and his love of his artwork remind me quite a bit of Natsbane. Though, if a full Non/Disney version of Fabler were to be made, Natsbane wouldn't be quite as...kinda-mad-scientist-wacko that he is in my envisioning. Then again, perhaps that's a good thing. It'd be interesting to see a mad scientist who's not mad as in insane, but mad as in angry. DISCLAIMERS: Fabler (c) me I OWN NONE OF THE SCREENSHOTS I USED TO MAKE THIS POST

#Behold My Beautiful Little Brain Child (my original post)#Fabler

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douxreviews · 6 years ago

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Supergirl - ‘The Quest for Peace’ Review

Red Daughter: You betrayed me. You betrayed Kaznia! Lex Luthor: What can I say? I’m proud to be an American.

Lex Luthor is back to steal the powers of aliens. And the show.

The season finale had a lot to do. It did most of it, with most characters ending up where we wanted them to be.

Last week I complained about a few things that were missing. How we never saw the invasion by Kaznia, nor Lex Luthor’s “rescue” of America. Well, they put that in, all set to Jon Cryer singing along with Frank Sinatra’s “I did it my way.” In fact, it went on a little too long, especially as acting within one of those space helmets, where all the directors can do is to show the head, is pretty limited. Singing, at least, was a different choice.

Last week I also hoped Red Daughter wasn’t dead. And she wasn’t! (Not yet. She dies during this episode, after apologizing to Kara, and her death seems to be real, as she turned into a mist.) Of course, the only reason Lex Luthor could even pretend to kill her (and announce to the world that he had killed Supergirl) was because he thought Red Daughter had killed the real Supergirl. Unlike my relief at Red Daughter being still among the breathing (but my relief was short-lived, as was Red Daughter), Lex Luthor was not at all pleased to discover that the original Supergirl is still alive. Actually, I was surprised that Lex’s discovery took as long in the episode as it did, given that Kara Danvers had written the story connecting Lex Luthor (and Lex knows that Kara=Supergirl). Everyone else was reading the expose, but not Lex Luthor? Doesn’t he have alerts for important stories with his name in it? Given how he is always so many steps ahead, how could he miss that? Later in the episode he castigates Red Daughter for being stupid/naïve/both when she didn’t do any research on him to realize that he hates all Kryptonians, yet he is as guilty himself.

We learn that Lex Luthor has been behind President Boxleitner Baker’s rise all along, explaining why President Baker has been such a jerk. Lex Luthor “invites” his mother and his half-sister to the Oval Office, and they had some interesting exchanges. Like Lex pointing out that he has finally cleared the family name by getting puppet Baker to pardon him (after the dead-once-more Otis left a note confessing to all the crimes that we know were committed by Lex). And Lex also pointing out that his family means a lot to him. This psychologically makes sense, as even if he hates his mother and his half-sister, they are his audience. The people to whom he wants to prove things. He couldn’t do that if they were dead, could they? Lena is hostile towards her half-brother, but Lillian is more accommodating, insisting that they share some polonium tea.

Lex Luthor is behind the rounding up of the aliens, where he has been siphoning off their extra powers for actual power. Like in turning-on-the-lights power, or using that power for weapons (it seems bizarre to me that you could use the same technology on all aliens, but it's a one-size-fits-all power siphoning device). Oddly enough they leave a few aliens out of the power-siphoning pods, for work, relying on the superpower dampeners surrounding Shelley Island to keep the aliens from creating trouble. The fact that they’re not trapped in pods gives some of our heroes (J'onn and Dreamer and some random aliens) the time and space in which to create a diversion. Which they do, first by fighting with each other, then with the guards, and then getting out so they can turn off the superpower dampeners and get an astral projection message to Brainy. So our unlocked-up heroes – James, Brainy, Supergirl and Alex – go to Shelley Island to rescue their friends and the rest of the aliens.

Before our heroes can enter the complex to rescue the aliens, they find themselves in a fight with Ben Lockwood and the Children of Liberty. Even though Ben Lockwood has learned that Lex Luthor, whom he despises, has been behind his own meteoric unbelievable rise to success, Lockwood still hates aliens and now that he’s souped-up with superpowers, is eager to take on Supergirl. It makes sense that Lockwood would not have a complete change of heart, and is satisfying, too, because we get to watch him go to prison when he’s defeated.

Brainy gets into the complex (our other heroes have other tasks) and the first priority is to turn off the machine that is about to annihilate Argo (which is where Superman and the rest of Supergirl’s family are). I loved the scene where Brainy realigns, and goes from telling them that the odds are poor, to being terrified for his friends (and the woman he loves) to encouraging them and telling them that they can indeed, do this. That is, use their psychic energy to overload the weapon that is being sent to destroy Argo.

Supergirl does some necessary fighting, and she gets to watch her clone die, but not before her clone apologizes for being wrong about, you know, everything. I don't really like it when a character is so (as Lex put it) stupid and/or naive. Supergirl thinks Lex is dead when he refuses to let her save him but drops to the ground. This is another logical problem with the episode: there’s no reason that Supergirl couldn’t have zipped down and gotten a better grip on him and stopped him from hitting the ground. He may have said he'd rather die, but you should never trust Lex Luthor.

Lena figures out that Lex didn’t die when he plummeted from the sky (how did he escape? teleportation?), so she comes to his lair to remedy the matter. She shoots Lex, at which point Lex (who doesn’t seem to be showing much pain or coughing up blood despite being shot) tells his half-sister that Kara is Supergirl. We have been waiting for Lena to learn the truth for several seasons now, and of course she learns it in the most uncomfortable way possible.

The writers put in many bits that can make us viewers content while we wait for Season 5. Kara declares that she can do anything with her sister at her side – this didn’t quite have the resonance that I wanted but I still appreciated it. Colonel Haley announces that Supergirl is welcome; Ben Lockwood in prison while his son George Lockwood is on TV, asking everyone, humans and aliens, to just get along. Alex and Kelly share their first kiss (saying that they’ve been through so much together, but I think this is the first time to see them share the screen in this episode), while Brainy and Nia walk by, hand-in-hand, which is especially sweet.

And we have some lovely teases for the next season. Lex Luthor may have not died (you don’t waste a good villain). Lena knows Kara=Supergirl, but Kara hasn’t told her yet. There’s some excitement for J’onn. And, the most delightful of all – Eve Tessmacher is being tracked by some group of beings, which explains why this brilliant blonde was such a fool for Lex. She was being compelled to for some other reason.

Title musings: “The Quest for Peace” is also the title of Superman IV, from the series with Christopher Reeve. As this is the end of the fourth season I guess it was why the writers chose that title. It seems strange to pay homage to Superman IV, as it was such a lousy movie. I suppose you can always say that Supergirl wants peace, she didn’t seem to really be on a quest for peace in this episode, but mostly in the mode of stopping the bad guys. I understand why the writers chose it, but the title’s not inspired or inspiring.

Bits and pieces

Very satisfying to see the traitorous President Boxleitner being thrown out by the application of the 25th amendment. We all know why it was satisfying.

So both Lillian (polonium in the tea) and Lena (gun) have tried to kill Lex. Maybe he won’t be so accommodating next time?

Quotes

President Baker: Not that I don’t trust the plan, but shouldn’t I be in a bunker somewhere?

Lex Luthor: From zero to President with a snap of my fingers. Are you seriously asking me if I’m sure about something?

Kara/Supergirl: I will not let fear win. And with my sister by my side, anything is possible.

Brainy: That is a rather strong emotional reaction for such an insignificant detail.

Lena: Your murderous son has duped the world into thinking he’s Earth’s hero. This is hardly Thanksgiving dinner.

Overall Rating

There was a lot in this episode to like, which is why this review goes on and on. But the episode also has spots where the logic was faulty, or where they are telling instead of showing. Three out of four cups of polonium-spiked tea.

Victoria Grossack loves math, Greek mythology, Jane Austen and great storytelling in many forms.

#Supergirl #Kara Danvers #Kara Zor-El #Lena Luthor #Alex Danvers #Lex Luthor #DC Comics #Supergirl Reviews #Doux Reviews #TV Reviews

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carumens · 6 years ago

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expand your literature friday nº1

Author: Ana María Matute

Notable works: Pequeño Teatro (1954), Luciérnagas, eng. Fireflies (1955), Los Hijos Muertos, eng. The Dead Sons (1958), Olvidado Rey Gudú, eng. Forgotten King Gudú (1996).

Obviously, whole theses and analysis could be written about this amazing writer and her work. There will be loads of thing about Los Abel that I would love you guys to know, but that I can’t just include in a Tumblr post. Hopefully, this will be interesting enough to you!

*WARNING. The book I’m going to be talking about has never been translated, so all the quotes and excerpts below have been translated by me.

So, without further ado, proceed and enjoy!

Brief Introduction

Ana María Matute (1925 - 2014) was a Spanish writer and member of the Real Academia Española, which, summing it up, is the insttution that regulates the Spanish language in Spain. It’s a great honor to be a member of the RAE, and she was the third woman in the history of this institution to be conceded a seat in it. She is considered one of the most personal and raw voices of the 20th century in Spanish literature, and one of the best posguerra (which is the period following the Spanish Civil War) novelists. She wrote novels, short stories, children tales and essays. She was considered in 1976 for the Nobel Literature Prize and won numerous literature prices, among which was the Premio Cervantes, the most prestigious literature prize in the Spanish language.

Matute was a professor at university, and she traveled to many cities to give lectures, especially to the US. In her speeches, she talks about emotional changes, the constant changes of the human being and how innocence is never cmpletely lost. She said that although her body was old, her heart was still young.

Here is a small article by The New York Times, published some days after her death in 2014, that contains some more info about her biography and career.

Style

Matute deals with many political, social and moral aspects of Spain during the post-war period. Her prose is lyrical and practical, and she incorporates techniques associated with modernism and surrealism. However, Matute is considered a realist writer. Many of her books deal with the period of life ranging from childhood to adolescence to adulthood.

Matute uses, as a primary resource, pessimism, which, in her novels, often manifests in the form of alienation, hypocrisy, demoralization and malice. About her work, it is said that although the arguments of each of her novels are independent, they are all united by the general theme of Civil War and the portrait of a society dominated by materialism and self-interest.

Also, during the 1940s in Spain, a new literary aesthetic, which came to be known with the name of tremendismo, was born. The main aesthetic features of tremendismo revolve around the experiences of authors during the Civil War, and the misery and insecurity that were characteristic of post-war Spain. Tremendismo is heavily based on pessimistic, determinist and fatalist philosophies; it shows the darkest aspects of life, such as failure and death, and relates them to existentialism. Protagonists of novels belonging to tremendismo are usually marginal beings from the lowest layers of society, with primitive minds and without spiritual values or sensitivity. They often commit errors that lead them to tragic consequences, but they can’t be blamed because it is society that leads them to act that certain way. In this way, the worst part of human beings, highlited by an unfair society, is shown.

Los Abel

“I have arrived and nobody waits for me, because I have not warned anyone and I do not know anyone. It is difficult to define contours. The town, sunk in the bottom of the valley, is a ghost of violet lividness: like an unfortunate overcrowding of half-ruined hovels.”

Los Abel (1948) was Ana María Matute's first published novel and is, to this day, basically unknown. “Why are you going to talk about a novel that is not even considered her most relevant work?” you may ask. Well, simply because I love it, and it was a major inspiration for both my first poemary and my current WIP, Sunflowers at Night. The publication of this work was considered a literary revelation, a fact that would be confirmed in the successive works presented by its author.

Ana María Matute wrote Los Abel, a work that obtained a brilliant classification in the 1945 Premio Nadal, at the young age of 21. Inspired by the biblical story of Adam and Eve, a reflection of the enviroment after civil strife, it’s the dark story of a family living sad and tormented lives, very few of which escape the climate of anguish and exhaustion. Matute manages to create a tense, passionate and even feral atmosphere.

Plot *(WARNING. Spoilers ahead.)

The story is told in the first person by two different characters. The narrator in chapters I-IV is a young man who returns to a town he visited with his mother when he was a child. In these chapters he remembers his first encounter with the Abel family and then describes the town and the people who live there during his visit. The man rents the old house of the aforementioned family and there he finds the diary of Valba Abel, one of the sisters who lived there. So, the second narrator is Valba, or more precisely, chapters V-XXIX represent her personal diary in which she tells the sad story of her family.

This story takes place in a post-war rural landscape, where the family, formed by the father and his seven children: Oswaldo, Augusto, Tito, Valbanera, Juan Nepomuceno, Octavio and Ovidia — who prefer to be called by the nicknames Aldo, Gus, Tito, Valba, Juan, Tavi and the youngest simply, the Small One — all with very different personalities. Their mother has died and the father tries to maintain the unity of the family, using their land and house for that. However, life in a poor monotonous rural area is not enough for young people who show different abilities and have their own interests. Only the older brother, Aldo, is interested in cultivating the land and continuing with the traditional life of their parents: the other siblings want to escape from the village and live in the city.

After some gray and depressive winters, the children leave, one after the other, the orchard of their father, and move to the city. There they try to start new and different lifes, but their destiny takes them back to the village, where two of the brothers, Aldo and Tito, different as day and night, have such serious problems with each other that the first kills the second.

The protagonist

Valba is the representation of the rare girl, a very common protagonist in female post-war novels, who has a lonely character, looks unfeminine to other women and who is looking for her own identity. But in addition to the features that are typical to the rare girl trope, Matute adds to Valba a kind of darkness and depth. The town doctor describes her with the following words: "What deep eyes: a whole world enclosed within. To tell you the truth, I have never seen a look like that. Only sometimes do beggars in ditches have that look, or the hungry. And she looked like a child, with her indecisive hands. She had wolf teeth, hurtful as little daggers.”

After the death of her mother, Valba has to leave her studies in the city and return home, where she has difficulty finding her place among her brothers. She often feels redundant, without a way out and guilty that she lets her life go by without really living it, repeating phrases like: "I felt ridiculous, useless, small" and "I'm tired of not living." Even though she doesn’t like her sitaution, she doesn’t really try to make it better, thus acquiring a typical property of the protagonists in tremendismo.

The few moments of joy in Valba's diary are related to love or with the hope that she would find love. The romantic story with Galo, an artist in the city, offers hope for a happy ending but becomes a failure that destroys Valba's soul and eliminates her optimism for a better future- She feels indifference towards life: "How many hours still extending before me! It is possible that I will still live for many years; what a great tedium youth is, how a great tedium, a whole life still to be traveled, to drag behind me! " Valba also loses the ability to see love as something pure and beautiful: "I was like the top of a mountain. If I ever loved again, my feeling would drag a chorus of ridicule and parodies."

The violent and extreme situations are typical of tremendismo. In the case of Los Abel it’s not so much about violence as it is about death and intense moments forming a continuous chain during the story. Valba's narrative begins with the death of her mother who leaves her husband and seven children behind, some of them very young, who have to grow up under the harsh guidance of their father. To this event follows the death of the village’s teacher and although no one really cries for him, it is an adversity for the people. Later, Juan gets sick and ends up crippled. Then, when the littlest sister is preparing for her First Communion, the church is burned. A flood follows the fire: the river rises on its banks and threatens to take the house of the Abel with him. But the house, the strongest link in the family, continues in its place, at the foot of the mountains. In these mountains, Valba's father loses his life later on, and this event marks the beginning of the last chapter of the Abel family. Afterwards, there is no unifying force and the brothers who have remained in the village leave their home one after the other.

Matute completes the book with a violent ending. As we mentioned, Aldo, the eldest brother kills Tito, the luckiest brother of the seven. This crime is caused by years of envy and anger that have been growing inside Aldo. When he gets home and sees that Tito, whom his wife loves, is doing successful restructuring in the land of their parents, he can’t tolerate the injustice and shoots him. With this event, Matute uses for the first time the symbol of the Cainism, the known crime of the Bible, very frequent in her later works.

And so, the novel ends with this sublime piece of writing I felt the necessity to share with you guys:

“The two thunderous shots resounded, much more than the whole storm of our flood. The walls trembled and a thousand cries creaked on the stairs. The two bullets sank into that golden flesh, into that chest that always breathed rhythmically. But what revenge was that? What revenge ...? My God, Tito was youth! And I fell to my knees, and with that blood of his that was already sliding between the joints of the mosaics, I wet my face, as if it were a caress.

This is what I read."

And...

I really hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! If you guys have any questions, please ask me!!!

Leave me your comments and opinions too!

tagging: @katabasiss @hepiit @medusaswrites @quartzses @the-idiot-who-lose-you @writeblrs @esoteric-eclectic-eccentric @leopardsnake-stories

#literaturedaily #dailylit #dailynovels #spanish literature #ana maria matute #expand your literature fridays #eylf #i hope u guys find this interesting #i know its long sorry #i summed it up as much as i could #lqfihioewahvlfki.#hit me up when you read it please!!!!

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preserving-ferretbrain · 6 years ago

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City of Celluloid

by Dan H

Sunday, 01 September 2013

Dan has seen the City of Bones movie.

Uh-oh! This is in the Axis of Awful...~

I first reviewed Cassandra Cla(i)re's City of Bones in the halcyon days of 2008.

Today, Kyra and I went to see the movie!

Umm...

Long time readers (or people who read the review I linked to above) may recall that I found the original book of City of Bones so blisteringly incoherent that I was barely able to write about it in any kind of sensible manner.

The movie is worse.

Kyra and I saw this film in the tiny, crappy screen at the Odeon on Magdalen Street, an experience we shared with about a dozen other people, all of whom seemed to be having a similarly terrible experience.

Just as with the original book, I really don't know where to start. Because this film is awful in nearly every conceivable way.

Let's start with the good bits:

Good Bit: The Cast are Actually Pretty Cool

Jamie Campbell-Bower is actually really good as Fanon Draco. In the book, I felt that his constant wisecracking revealed less about the character's emotional turmoil than about the author's desire to show off her ability to write one-liners. Campbell-Bower's delivery, though, actually manages to create the impression that I always felt the book was aiming for but failed to achieve – that Fanon Draco is hiding behind playful or dismissive language in order to avoid confronting his feelings.

Lily Collins is a bit generic as Clary but then, really, what does she have to work with. She's … a girl? She has special powers? She's hot for Fanon Draco?

Robert Sheehan (the guy that plays Immortal Kid in Misfits) does a reasonable turn as Simon, although again there isn't a huge amount to do with the character. He wears glasses (temporarily). He has a raging case of nice-guy-syndrome. Meh. I swear he's taller in this than he is in other stuff.

Perhaps most excitingly (even more excitingly than Jamie Campbell-Bower, and I love Jamie Campbell-Bower), Jonathan Rhys Meyers does a fabulously scenery-chewing turn as Valentine. And boy does he need it, because if he stopped raging around and roaring for ten seconds, you might have to ask yourself what the holy fucking hell is actually supposed to be happening, and then you'd probably have to go and cry.

Incidentally, I think it probably says something about the way things work in Hollywood that the teenage protagonists of this film are played by actors in their mid twenties, while their father is played by an actor in his mid thirties. Clearly Valentine was extraordinarily sexually precocious (even if we ignore the fact that Collins and Campbell-Bower are the best part of a decade older than the characters they portray, Rhys-Meyers' Valentine would still have to have started breeding at nineteen to have two seventeen-year-old kids).

Good Bit: It Is Quite Visually Interesting

Part of the fun of this kind of film is that it lends itself quite well to spectacle, and in the beginning the film-makers do a really good job of establishing a visual style, whether it's the Hogwarts-esque grandeur of the institute, the hundreds of Shadowhunter runes that Clary draws in her sleep, or the grotesque, body-splitting demons.

Some of these images might come from the book. I honestly don't remember. I'm pretty sure that the device of Clary drawing Shadowhunter runes is film-only, and I seem to recall that the entire concept of Demons being able to possess people is contrary to book-canon (where Demons are fairly specifically greebly monsters that eat you).

Having said the film is quite visually interesting, I should backtrack a little and say that the film is quite visually interesting in kind of its first half. After they get to the Institute things just get very, very lazy. Big generic flappy-winged monsters. Generic black-and-red demons who look weirdly like the dudes that the Zin send after you in Saints' Row IV

Although Valentine does make a pentagram out of swords. For which plus ten points for swords, minus six points because the pentagram is such an obvious symbol.

And now the rest:

Bad Bit: What The Fuck Is Going On?

So Clary is drawing runes. Then she meets a guy who only she can see. Then later other people can see him.

Then her mum gets attacked by dudes who are looking for the Mortal Cup, so she drinks some kind of magic coma potion because that is apparently the thing you do in that situation.

Then Clary gets attacked by a demon, and the guy rescues her.

Then they do a lot of running around, and the guy who we saw with her mum earlier said he was only hanging out with her to get the cup.

Then they go to this place called the institute. Some people are vaguely rude to Clary. Others aren't.

Clary works out that Damien from Gossip Girl is both gay and in love with Fanon Draco, despite the fact that he has said one sentence and been on screen for eight seconds.

Then Clary goes to see the Silent Brothers. This is one of the bits that are vaguely visually interesting. She has a vision where she sees the name Bane (well, actually she see a series of dots, but Fanon Draco realises that the dots are really, umm, the spaces around the letters in the word BANE witten in block caps. Because her brain stored the negative image. Apparently).

Then they go to see a Warlock. It is vitally important that before they do this that (a) Clary get dressed up in sexy clothes and (b) everybody including Clary take the time to observe that she looks like a hooker, because while it is important for women to dress sexily, it is also important to remember that women who dress sexily are gigantic whores.

The warlock agrees to help them because he is gay, and therefore fancies Damien from Gossip Girl, because all gay men are instantly attracted to all other gay men. The warlock is not wearing any trousers. I am not making this up.

The Immortal Kid from Misfits is captured by vampires for no clear reason.

Something something werewolves something something.

Then there is a scene in a garden where it is all romantic and you know it is romantic because they kiss, but also because there is an extraordinarily loud and intrusive love song played over the top.

Then I think Clary works out where the Mortal Cup is, because she is drinking tea while reading a book, and suddenly the teacup goes inside the page like a picture.

Then they fight a scary black woman.

Then Clary gets the Mortal Cup. Then the man with the grey hair opens the big water portal and Valentine comes through.

Then there is a really, really long fight scene.

No, I mean, like really, really long.

I mean, like half an hour in a two hour movie.

There is a flamethrower. Why is there a flamethrower?

Clary does magic with her glowing dildo pen to freeze some demons.

Did I mention flamethrower?

Grey hair man is a good guy again?

Valentine is everybody's father.

They win?

More glowing dildo magic?

Clary and Fanon Draco drive away on a motorcycle. At a slow walking pace.

Potentially Hilarious Bit: Deviations From Canon

The thing I find most uplifting about the Mortal Instruments movie is that now not only will there be fanfiction based on a novel series based on fanfiction of a different novel series, but there will now be schisms within that fandom between book fans and movie fans.

I read City of Bones five years ago, so I don't really remember it at all well, but I'm pretty sure there were some pretty big changes from book-canon. I'm almost certain that the final confrontation in the original book doesn't take place in the Institute, and Valentine's motivations in the movie are a lot less morally ambiguous, in that he's fairly explicitly trying to take over the world with an army of demons rather than just wipe out the downworlders (I might also point out that the word “downworlder” only appears once in the entire movie).

At the risk of sounding like a horrible nerd and closeted Cla(i)re fanboy, I was strangely irritated by the fact that Valentine, in the film, is able to summon an army of demons by using sort of generic magic, since in the book of City of Ashes a major plot-point is that he needs the Mortal Sword for exactly that purpose.

Other changes form canon just made sense. For example, in the film, Valentine more or less states outright that he used the same kind of memory magic that Marcus Bane used on Clary in order to make Fanon Draco forget that he was raised by the most famous and reviled person in the history of his people. Now actually I'm pretty sure that this isn't possible under book-canon. Shadowhunter magic is runes and only runes, you'd need a warlock for a memory-block, and there's no way that Valentine would have gone to one. But here the film-makers did basically the best they could with what they had. The alternative would be to just go with what it says in the book, which is that Fanon Draco just completley failed to realise that the man who raised him looked exactly like the man whose picture is all over the Institute.

The film also strongly implied that the man Fanon Draco remembered as his father wore an enormous hood at all times.

On the subject of Fanon Draco's heritage, the film inexplicably chose to keep the nonsensical “M turned upside down” plot point from the book, and translated to a visual medium it has exactly the problem I pointed out in my original article. During the climactic scene, when Fanon Draco is staring at his hand and realising to his horror that what he thought was a W is actually an M, the camera is showing us the ring from the other side as it has more or less consistently throughout the entire movie so we are only just seeing it as a W when for us it has been an M for the rest of the film.

Also, the scene with the ring is also pretty much the first time we learn the surnames of either Valentine or Fanon Draco.

The final change from book-canon is to do with the … umm … incest.

A major plot point in The Mortal Instruments is that Clary and Fanon Draco want to be together but can't because they're brother and sister. At the end of the final book, it turns out that Valentine actually isn't Fanon Draco's father at all, he just did weird angel-blood experiments on him while he was still in the womb.

Now I could be wrong, but I think the film-makers really didn't want two and a half movies in which their male and female leads spent half their time seriously contemplating incestuous sex, so they put the “not his real father” line in before any of the other revelations. So now after Valentine shows up in the Institute, he has a conversation with Hodge, where Hodge says “hey, if you really wanted to screw with those guys you could lie and tell them they were brother and sister.” This somewhat alters the context of everything that happens next, and everything that will happen in the next two films.

So umm, yeah. That's City of Bones: the Movie. It may actually be worse than the book.Themes:

TV & Movies

Cassandra Clare

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http://ronanwills.wordpress.com/

at 14:01 on 2013-09-01Robert Sheehan is in this? I'm really hoping he's destined for better things, so this better not end up derailing his career.

Anyway, I was hoping to see a review of the movie on here so now I can satisfy my curiosity without actually watching it myself. I have to admit some of the clips they released actually looked fairly entertaining, but I guess they're not indicative of the movie itself.

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Dan H

at 15:22 on 2013-09-01I think it depends on what you mean by "indicative". There are certainly a lot of entertaining clips, it's just that there's nothing stringing them together. It's like the film is a two hour long trailer.

This is more or less exactly the same problem that I had with the book. There are quite a lot of cool scenes, but they just sort of happen one after the other with no real throughline or sense of arc.

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Fishing in the Mud

at 15:44 on 2013-09-01I'm kind of morbidly curious about what keeps the Clare train going. It looks like she's making money off her work and everything, but I have to wonder how she feels about the terrible reviews her work gets even from critics who like and praise popular writers like Whedon and Rowling. Something tells me the poor woman isn't just in this for the money.

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Arthur B

at 22:24 on 2013-09-01

Isn't this part of the usual weirdness with American media wanting to cast teenagers in sexually provocative roles but not, for obvious reasons, wanting to show actual (or even simulated) underage action on screen? I literally just started watching

Vampire Diaries

and half my viewing time so far has been spent yelling at the screen WHY ARE YOU STILL IN SCHOOL GET A JOB YOU SLACKERS

(Though to be fair, the fact that all the high schoolers are grown-ass adults makes the whole thing less creepy in some ways.)

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Cressida

at 22:55 on 2013-09-01A video review from The Nostalgia Chick; I'm curious what Ferretbrainers think...

http://blip.tv/nostalgia-chick/the-next-whatever-the-mortal-instruments-and-ya-adaptations-6635563

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Arthur B

at 23:19 on 2013-09-01My thoughts are "Woah, holy shit, a TGWTG reviewer who offers interesting insights and doesn't rely heavily on gimmicks, fake rage and wAcKy ChArAcTeRs, how rare is that?"

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Michal

at 00:56 on 2013-09-02I was actually about to post that video. Needless to say, I find her points to be very good ones.

My thoughts are "Woah, holy shit, a TGWTG reviewer who offers interesting insights and doesn't rely heavily on gimmicks, fake rage and wAcKy ChArAcTeRs, how rare is that?"

The good ones gather at Chez Apocalypse. Kyle Kallgren of

Brows Held High

is also very erudite and worth watching, especially his more recent videos. (Even better, the crossover between Nostalgia Chick and Brows Held High in which they review

Freddy Got Fingered

is truly something to behold)

I'm kind of morbidly curious about what keeps the Clare train going.

There are very few writers who are purely in it for the money, even the bad ones. I can assure you E.L. James probably enjoyed writing

Fifty Shades of Grey

very much and did not think "my

Twilight

fanfic will make millions!" But if there is a sentiment towards material gain behind Clare's work and writing, it can probably be summed up by

this enormous tour bus

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Fishing in the Mud

at 17:04 on 2013-09-02

I can assure you E.L. James probably enjoyed writing Fifty Shades of Grey very much and did not think "my Twilight fanfic will make millions!"

No doubt. But with Clare, I get the sense she doesn't want to write dreck and doesn't want people to think she writes dreck, but may not fully understand how to get better.

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http://wrongquestions.blogspot.com/

at 09:10 on 2013-09-03

with Clare, I get the sense she doesn't want to write dreck and doesn't want people to think she writes dreck

Obviously there's a non-trivial number of people who don't think that she writes dreck. She was a massively successful fanfic author, after all, to the extent of getting a professional publishing contract off her fanfic (and despite her books' debt to Harry Potter, unlike E.L. James she hasn't sold her fanfic; she had to write something from scratch and sell that). And I have seen other YA authors rave about her, though it's not clear to me how much of this is liking the books and how much liking her. Either way, she's got a community (and readers) who give her validation, and if the film of her book has been panned it will be pretty easy for her and her fans to take this as the result of adaptation decay rather than a reflection on the source material.

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Dan H

at 13:11 on 2013-09-03To be fair to Cla(i)re, I do think she's improved over the years. City of Bones was a gigantic incoherent mess. City of Ashes was a slightly less incoherent mess, City of Glass and Clockwork Angel were sort of okay. I mean they still had all of the annoying stuff that I'd expected from Clare's writing, but they actually told a story that made some modicum of sense.

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Alice

at 13:52 on 2013-09-03Either way, she's got a community (and readers) who give her validation, and if the film of her book has been panned it will be pretty easy for her and her fans to take this as the result of adaptation decay rather than a reflection on the source material.

This should be taken with a massive pinch of salt and a [citation needed], but the impression I got was that during the film production process, Clare had talked a lot about how closely involved with the film she was, but once it became clear the film was a flop, she backpedalled and began downplaying her involvement.

Then again, she's not in the business of making films, she's in the business of selling books, and she's pretty good at that.

And I have seen other YA authors rave about her, though it's not clear to me how much of this is liking the books and how much liking her.

Wasn't Maureen Johnson accused of being part of a YA Mafia (including Johnson and Clare) who were somehow all in cahoots and conspiring to get each other published? Because there happened to be a bunch of (aspiring/new) YA authors living in NYC at the same time who were friends and liked to hang out and write together, and happened to all get published to varying degrees of success/popularity? It all seemed a bit storm-in-a-teacup-ish to me, because, well, they were all in the same business, in the same city, and about the same age. And once two or three people become friends they're likely to make friends with each other's friends, especially if you're all in the same boat like that. And sure, they might have been able to help each other with getting agents and that sort of thing, but that's not quite the same thing as getting your friend published & on the bestseller list...

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http://alula-auburn.livejournal.com/

at 19:51 on 2013-09-03I've found the commercials amazingly bad, even for the parameters "that type of thing." Like, it's possible I've blocked it out, but I don't recall the Twilight ads looking so badly put together, in terms of picking out lines to quote or images to use.

Of course, I don't quite see how all the people involved in making a film didn't get the difference between something like Harry Potter or Twilight, which for better or worse penetrated the wider culture (even my extremely pop-cultural illiterate dad could identify Harry Potter as something with a school of wizards, and Twilight as vampires) and this--I think if you didn't have at least some sense of what the books were about the commercials would look even more pointless. (Which was kind of how I felt about the other YA fantasy flop? Beautiful Creatures? Southern accents and witches or something? I still don't know.)

I've not read the TMI (lol) books, but I did read the somewhat-annotated Draco trilogy in an overwrought, sleep-deprived unmedicated-for-a-chronic-pain-condition haze, and I can vaguely see how her style could be sort of compelling for the right sort of pretentious youthful mindset. (I didn't know about the plagiarism stuff then--I barely had a sense of fandom; I was a total naif.) But how it's held up to much more than that I don't know. I also don't know anything about TMI fandom--if the books have much if any staying power outside either that brief, pretentious adolescent window (which can almost be endearing in its own way) or the somewhat incestuous-seeming YA reviews. But there are adults, I guess, who find the ponderous self-absorption of the Twilight books (at least, that's the tone I saw in the quoted lines I read) to be good and profound writing.

That said, I find John Green tiresome and the bit of Maureen Johnson I read didn't do much for me. I don't know if I've had bad luck lately in my YA choices (I read Thirteen Reasons Why because I got it for free), but I've seen a lot more of that faux-deep heavy tone, which to me does not indicate a "maturing" of YA. (But I have personal reasons to be snippy about "literary" YA, so.)

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Alice

at 20:44 on 2013-09-04I've found the commercials amazingly bad, even for the parameters "that type of thing."

I don't know that I thought they were that unusually terrible (within the parameters of "that type of thing", at least), but I was confused by the number of English accents on display, particularly Jace's. Is he meant to be/sound English*, or is it just that Jamie Campbell Bower can't do a US accent?

*I don't remember him being pegged as English in the book, but I read that years ago and don't remember the details.

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Cammalot

at 21:42 on 2013-09-04One odd thing -- virtually every review I've read of this film has complained that Jayce is "a thousand years old" or similar and either doesn't act it, or shouldn't be macking on Clary at his age. Is that something that the film made particularly confusing? I don't recall him or any other forefront character being anything like an immortal in the book -- I mainly remember Isabelle being 14 and acting a bit precociously vampy.

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Dan H

at 19:26 on 2013-09-05@Alice

That confused me as well. I don't think I've ever *heard* him do an American accent, but the guy is an actor, surely he can learn? Is it that Valentine has an English accent because he's the villain, and Jace has an English accent because he was raised by Valentine? Or am I giving the film too much credit.

@Cammalot

One odd thing -- virtually every review I've read of this film has complained that Jayce is "a thousand years old" or similar and either doesn't act it, or shouldn't be macking on Clary at his age. Is that something that the film made particularly confusing?

*Everything* in the film is particularly confusing. The film makes no real attempt to explain anything, and there's one line where Jace says something about his people having been doing something "for a thousand years" and the way he says it I can see why somebody who wasn't familiar with Cla(i)re's work might think he was talking from personal experience.

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Fishing in the Mud

at 00:04 on 2013-09-06Fanon Draco must retain his English accent to remain fuckworthy. This point is not negotiable.

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Dan H

at 01:14 on 2013-09-06A tiny part of me is *incredibly* sad that they didn't cast Tom Felton as Jace.

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Cheriola

at 04:31 on 2013-09-06

While I agree that the wish to sexualise teenagers is probably part of the practise of

Dawson Casting

, the reasons for it are also based in labour laws. It's much less of a hassle to work with adults who can work a full day and don't still have to get high school lessons on the side / won't suddenly leave the franchise in order to start college. And you don't run into problems like the Harry Potter movies with teen actors who age faster than their characters or suddenly look a lot different than their characters are supposed to. (e.g. the actor playing Neville became quite handsome.) Plus, even if there is the occasional prodigy, most actors really do need drama school before being anywhere close to good enough to portray actual characters, instead of just being 'cute'.

Clearly Valentine was extraordinarily sexually precocious (even if we ignore the fact that Collins and Campbell-Bower are the best part of a decade older than the characters they portray, Rhys-Meyers' Valentine would still have to have started breeding at nineteen to have two seventeen-year-old kids).

Really? It's considered "precocious" to be a horny 19-year-old egomaniac who doesn't use condoms? Seems in keeping with the power-high invincibility complex and the lack of care for other people's problems that usually characterise a stereotypical villain like that. I mean, it's not him that would have to care the baby, unless he wants to.

Also, the scene with the ring is also pretty much the first time we learn the surnames of either Valentine or Fanon Draco.

I've skim-read the book article to know what you're even talking about, and... Wait, his surname is Morgenstern?! She took a character who was a blatant Hitler metaphor and made him ethnically Jewish? That... Wow.

One can only hope that she simply wanted a German name (because all Germans are Nazis...) and thought it would be cute to use one that doubled as a Lucifer reference (it means "morning star"), and that she simply didn't do any research on German name origins. [It's one of those names that the Jewish population of the Holy Roman Empire chose when they were forced to adopt surnames in the 18th century. Usually it's pretty-sounding compound words not refering to a profession - like Goldblum(e) ("golden flower"), Bernstein ("amber") or Lilienthal ("valley of lilies").]

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Fishing in the Mud

at 11:55 on 2013-09-06I think some reviewer pointed out that the "Morgenstern" thing is one more reason the film won't work for anyone old enough to remember

Rhoda

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Alice

at 14:09 on 2013-09-06I've skim-read the book article to know what you're even talking about, and... Wait, his surname is Morgenstern?! She took a character who was a blatant Hitler metaphor and made him ethnically Jewish? That... Wow.

Well, Cassandra Clare is herself Jewish, so I imagine she was aware of what she was doing when she introduced the Morgenstern reference (along with its cultural/historical baggage). :-)

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Cheriola

at 15:37 on 2013-09-06Really? Huh. Well, it's her right then, I suppose. I just wonder what went through her mind that she thought saying "Yeah, our guys could be just as bad, given half a chance" and feeding into 'zionists want world domination' myths was a good idea.

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Arthur B

at 15:43 on 2013-09-06Is it not possible for Clare to be both Jewish

and

ignorant of the name's history, so she plucked a name which sounded German to her out of thin air without researching it?

I suspect she was going for the "Morgenstern = Morning Star = Lucifer" deal rather than the "Morgenstern = Jew" angle, after all.

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Alice

at 16:14 on 2013-09-06Is it not possible for Clare to be both Jewish and ignorant of the name's history, so she plucked a name which sounded German to her out of thin air without researching it?

I suppose it's possible, but I'd honestly be very surprised if she didn't read Morgenstern as sounding Jewish, even if she didn't know about the historical origins of the name.

I suspect she was going for the "Morgenstern = Morning Star = Lucifer" deal rather than the "Morgenstern = Jew" angle, after all.

Yeah, same. I suppose the thing with Morgenstern is that it's an obvious enough reference that her readers are fairly likely to catch it (and feel all clever and intellectual), while still being a recognisable surname. (She could have used the Greek form if she'd wanted to be more pretentious than usual, but "(h)eosphoros" doesn't really lend itself to turning into a surname that's easily pronounceable in English.)

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Dan H

at 17:53 on 2013-09-06

Really? It's considered "precocious" to be a horny 19-year-old egomaniac who doesn't use condoms?

I was thinking more of the scenario in which he'd started having kids at eleven rather than nineteen (and I'm using "precocious" here in the sense of "premature" rather than "talented"). Although even nineteen doesn't *really* make sense if we look at the way that the history is played up - it's never suggested that Valentine got Jocelyn pregnant accidentally, or that he had kids unusually young.

Valentine is clearly *supposed* to be in his early forties at least, it's just that then he wouldn't be in the narrow window during which Hollywood decrees actors the right age to be sexy.

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Alasdair Czyrnyj

at 23:07 on 2013-09-11

oh my what a shame who could have forseen rhubarb rhubarb

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Fishing in the Mud

at 02:03 on 2013-09-12Yeah, if it hasn't managed to turn a profit in a good three weeks, I don't blame anyone for backing off. The standards for bestselling books are a whole lot lower than for movie blockbusters.

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Dan H

at 16:02 on 2013-09-12

The standards for bestselling books are a whole lot lower than for movie blockbusters.

I assume you mean "the revenues expected from bestselling books are a whole lot lower than the revenues expected from movie blockbusters". Because for most other expectations (plot, characterization, that sort of thing), bestselling books and blockbuster movies are pretty much on par.

Also: I've been poking around the forums on Rotten Tomatoes and some of the discussions are hilarious. I particularly like the people complaining about Jace having a British accent, and the other people saying "No, that makes sense. They grew up in Idris, which is in Europe, so they'd naturally have picked up British accents."

Because all European people have British accents, you guys.

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Cammalot

at 20:11 on 2013-09-12

Because all European people have British accents, you guys.

I've long enjoyed listening to the variety of accents with which Swedish people speak English. (This is a tangent, but not a joke. There was a little honest-to-goodness rivalry in one of my classes between the ones who'd learned with a North American/U.S. accent and the ones who'd learned received pronunciation [capitalize?] -- two of these were siblings on opposite sides -- and they all ganged up on the lone Norwegian.)

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Dan H

at 22:37 on 2013-09-12

This is a tangent, but not a joke.

Three Swedes walk into a schwa?

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Shim

at 23:10 on 2013-09-12

Three Swedes walk into a schwa?

...and say "əw!"?

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Fishing in the Mud

at 01:16 on 2013-09-13

I assume you mean "the revenues expected from bestselling books are a whole lot lower than the revenues expected from movie blockbusters".

Right, sorry about the word salad. Yesterday was a long day.

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http://elsurian.livejournal.com/

at 05:24 on 2013-09-13In the halcyon days of 2008

Jesus Christ, has this franchise really been around for 5 years?

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Cammalot

at 18:13 on 2013-09-13

Three Swedes walk into a schwa?

Hee.

I want to make some sort of vegetable-based pun now, but I got nothin'.

Jesus Christ, has this franchise really been around for 5 years?

And going on what, nine books? (Gotta admire the productivity.)

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Dan H

at 19:05 on 2013-09-13Is anybody else feeling really freaking old right about now?

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Cammalot

at 19:55 on 2013-09-13Yes!

(Although that's partly because at today's freelance gig, I just met a coworker who was born my first year of college.)

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Dan H

at 21:58 on 2013-09-13Ouch.

I'm particularly looking forward to our next couple of GCSE intakes, which will be the point at which I start working with people who were born in the 21st century.

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Fishing in the Mud

at 00:44 on 2013-09-14Yeah, I just found out half the people I report to directly at work are younger than I am.

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#Ferretbrain #Cassandra Clare #The Mortal Instruments #Axis of Awful #Dan H

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pandoramsbox · 6 years ago

Text

Game for Gaming: Lost Sphear

Game: Lost Sphear (Tokyo RPG Factory and Square-Enix; Nintendo Switch, PlayStation 4, Microsoft Windows; 2018)

System: Nintendo Switch

Why this game?

Were I to make a list of my all time favorite video games, Square Enix, or as it was previously know Square or Squaresoft, turn based, Japanese role playing games (JRPGs) from the SNES era would factor heavily; namely, “Final Fantasy VI” (or III, in its original US SNES release), “Chrono Trigger,” and “Secret of Mana.” Not surprisingly, when I saw a trailer for the 2017 Switch release of Tokyo RPG Factory and Square-Enix’s homage to this era of gaming, “I Am Setsuna”, I wanted to play it.

Nostalgia definitely clouds my comparison of “I Am Setsuna” to “Chrono Trigger,” the game it most closely resembles in terms of battle and equipment system. Beautiful graphics and music, interesting story and engaging gameplay make “I Am Setsuna” a fine turn based JRPG in the mold of the games that inspired it. "I Am Setsuna” is not one of my favorite games ever, but I enjoyed playing it, would play it again, and do recommend it. As soon as I finished it, or neared finishing it, I wondered if Tokyo RPG Factory was going to come out with a follow up, and as fate would have it they did, and it was about to come out: “Lost Sphear.”

When “Lost Sphear” was released in North American in January of last year though, I didn’t rush out to get it or play it. The reason was two fold: my (still relatively new at the time) job was extremely busy and gaming wise I was completely transfixed by “Fire Emblem Warriors.” “Why spend money on a game I wasn’t going to sit down and play?” I figured. Then come November, and a sale, it made sense to buy it so I had it when I was ready to play it... Then I promptly became obsessed with “Tetris Effect.”

Like many working adults, I have found that finding time to play story heavy games is hard. As a result, I am more apt to favor games that are more action, less talking.

So my first game in this series was a game that I had never given a fair play to, thus I decided to follow it up with a game I wanted to play, but had wound up forgotten in my backlog.

My playtime: approximately 5 hours:

With RPGs, or any games that were cut scene or tutorial heavy, I knew I would need to give the game at least 3 hours. I got into “Lost Sphear” to the point where I gave it closer to 5.

The game opens with a cut scene/plot battle in the ancient past, which turns out to be the reoccurring dream of the protagonist, Kanata. From there, in the grand tradition of most RPGs and fantasy stories, you round up the characters that will make up your starting adventuring party. Sword using Kanata is joined by pugilist Lumina and sniper Locke. The 3 teenage friends are orphans being raised by the village elder, and part of their chores includes defending the town from encroaching monsters and fishing.

After some expository dialogue, getting the sense of the town, and getting a combat tutorial, the party leaves the village on its first mini mission, to go catch a fish. However, when they return, they discover a white void has absorbed and erased their home, along with anyone who was there.

As they attempt to make sense of what happened, they are joined by a mysterious, Goth guy in a long coat whom goes by “Van,” and fights with beam shooting knives. Together they go find shelter for the night at a cabin in the mountains, and while they sleep Kanata has an info dump dream that breaks down the core plot of the game: to recapture what has been “lost” with the power of memories.

Thus the party has to go around and collect memories, which Kanata has the power to manifest into stones/compacted mass/crystals and use to recover the places, people and things that have been lost to the white void.

After saving the village and getting recruited by a representative from the empire to help combat this phenomenon, which is causing havoc throughout the world, Kanata and comrades discover additional nuances to his powers, including the ability to create new things that give boosts in combat.

I played far enough to discover that the game mechanics of collecting ingredients to make food, which also give combat boosts, and magic/special abilities being contingent upon equipping items called spritnite, were carried over from “I Am Setsuna.”

So “Lost Sphear” had a limited learning curve for me, and I was able to spend more time enjoying than mastering new game mechanics. Even if I had not played “I Am Setsuna,” like most games of recent generation, the game is good about succinctly providing tutorials on game mechanics. However, at the point I stopped playing, before writing this post, I had only barely unlocked, thus barely begun to understand, the magical, steam punky vector suits, which are unique to this game.

Conclusions:

Obviously, I like “Lost Sphear,” and will be playing more of it, if I put in more time than what I deemed the minimum requirement to write a post on it. However, as engaged and pleased as I am with it, in the time I played it, I cannot see it overtaking “I Am Setsuna,” or the 1990s SquareSoft SNES games, in my esteem in terms of dialogue, and possibly characters, for me.

The dialogue is simplistic and repetitive. Even keeping in mind that the reading level should be written so as to be accessible to a wide audience, and the fact that it was translated to English from Japanese, the dialogue still comes across as weak relative to other JRPGs I’ve played, including “I Am Setsuna.” It is not simplistically bad in the fun way, like the famous “spoony bard” line from the first English translation of “Final Fantasy IV” (or II, in its original US SNES release). However, the game gives you the option of rewinding or fast forwarding dialogue, which is pretty useful and something that would have been really handy in the preceding games that inspired this one.

Still, slogging through the info dumps on what the game defines as memories and what they do is both tedious and simiotically draining.

In terms of the characters, they’re stock archetypes, and that’s not necessarily bad. Kanata is the pure hearted hero. Lumina is the, at times temperamental, big sister. Locke is the precocious kid who shoots his mouth off, and hates being called out on his inexperience and shortcomings. Van is the blunt expert with a secret. The personality dynamic in the group is good, actually. I am not overly attached to any of the characters though. In fact, I am mostly just offended that the character who is the source of the most repetitive dialogue, and is basically a bratty little kid, shares a name with the romantic thief, I mean “treasure hunter,” from “Final Fantasy VI.”

Really though, the use of archetypical characters in genre and pulp narratives is something I can readily forgive. Sometimes the narrative goes in ways that subvert the archetypes, and sometimes the characters get fleshed out enough to render them into a more unique personality. Only 5 hours of gameplay in, it’s hard to fully assess what may become of the characters in “Lost Sphear.”

In terms of more positive aspects of “Lost Sphear,” it did improve on “I Am Setsuna” in terms of game mechanics. Unlike its spiritual predecessor, inns are available to heal the party. This standard of JRPGs was absent from “I Am Setsuna” and it was extremely inconvenient. Money is no longer as hard or convoluted to come by in “Lost Sphear,” which likely goes hand in hand with inns being part of the game.

In combat, since the combatants move around the battlefield, it is possible to hit more than one party member or monster. In “I Am Setsuna” this mechanic was incidental and could be optimized for maximum impact with practice. In “Lost Sphear,” they introduce the mechanic early on, and let the player see what monsters are being targeted.

This multiple target mechanic warms my tactical and strategy loving heart! And kudos for the listing the button functions at the bottom of the screen; you can either ignore them, or refer to them if you need a refresher.

While the active combat style requires full attention while playing (as it should), I found exploring the different locations and world map peaceful and relaxing. The color palate is warm and the score perfectly accents the scenes. I genuinely like this gaming environment.

For fans of SquareSoft JRPGs from the 1990s, Tokyo RPG Factory games will appeal to your genre sensibilities. It soothes and panders rather than challenges, but sometimes that is exactly the kind of media you want and need, and that’s okay. Frankly, I think it’s cool that the styles and aesthetics of these games can be retranslated with new technology to reach new audiences, while attracting longtime or lapsed fans. It’s something mainstream Hollywood cinema has done for decades, and enables more texts for genre and narrative studies. Plus, you know, it’s just fun.

#game for gaming #video games #videogames #lost sphear

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lazyfox411 · 7 years ago

Text

Not You, Not Me, but Us.

So I wanted to whump keith but then it turned into this whole long angsty established klance 14k+ fic that I spent months working on....yeah...somebody be proud of me lol its the longest thing ive ever written and I'm finally done!!!! thanks to @hastalalaterkeith7152 and @chasethethace223 for sticking with me throughout this mess XD

a slightly more coherent summary: while Lance is away on a business trip, Keith unwittingly shares a kiss with someone else. Lance doesn't take to this kindly, and throws Keith out in the cold. Unfortunately for Keith, bad people roam the streets at night.

warnings I guess for violence and injury even though I'm bad at writing fight scenes ahaha and alcohol use I guess, also a kiss and interactions that could be considered non-con, basically just use your own discretion my lovelies <3 id love to answer any questions you guys might have about this story

length is 14467ish words

“Come on, Keith, don't give me that look,” Lance pleaded, doing his best to avoid his boyfriend’s puppy dog eyes.

“But I'm going to miss you.”

“And I’ll miss you, too. But I’ll be back before you know it. You won’t even realize I'm gone.”

“Are you sure about that?” Keith asked, hefting Lance’s suitcase from the trunk of the car. “It feels like you packed everything but the kitchen sink. Just how long are you planning on staying?” he teased.

“I won’t be able to go anywhere at all if I miss my flight. Hurry up, I still need to get my luggage checked.” Lance pulled his scarf tight against the sharp January wind, and scurried towards the entrance, Keith just steps behind him.

Keith tried not to be clingy. He really did. But Lance was one of the few people in his life who hadn't left him, and Keith hated saying goodbye, even if it was only for a few days while Lance travelled for work.

“You need to let go of my hand now,” Lance informed him, chuckling.

Keith let go, then promptly pulled Lance in for a tight hug. “I love you.”

“I love you too, angel,” Lance murmured. “Just a couple of days, okay? It’ll be fine.”

Keith nodded. “Have a good trip. And be safe,” he called after Lance had shouldered his carry-on and strided to the gate.

He and Lance didn't live together, though they had been talking about it for some time now, but they spent almost all of their free time together at one of their apartments. When Keith parked the car- Lance’s car, that Lance had lent him while he was away- and entered his apartment, he found it dark and completely devoid of life. A thin sheen of dust covered the furniture, and this time Lance wasn't here to scold him for neglecting to clean it. Keith didn't need to counter with the excuse he had no time to clean, he was always working or spending time with Lance. He flopped onto the couch and closed his eyes. Maybe he could catch up on some sleep. Work wasn't just an excuse, it was the truth. He’d had night shifts at the pharmacy for the past week.

The next morning, he crossed off Monday on the calendar, and put a little star on Friday, the day Lance would return. Then he sighed, and got ready for work. At least he didn't have night shifts this week. And he had something to look forward to at the end.

By the time Friday evening rolled around, Keith was exhausted. All he’d done was work; he hadn't declined any extra hours since he had nothing else to do. He was more than content now to let his body meld to the couch, lungs huffing out a relaxing breath. Only three hours until he had to pick up Lance at the airport. They’d texted a little bit, but Lance was busy with meetings most of the day and Keith had work, and the difference in time zones made the whole thing a jumbled mess. It would be good to talk to Lance for real, face to face.

The sound of a notification from his phone woke Keith from a peaceful nap. He searched for Lance’s name in anticipation, but it was a text from Shiro.

Shiro> Party tonight. Just a couple university friends. Want to come? I can give u a ride

Keith> Can’t. I need to pick up Lance in an hour

Shiro> Bring him with u

Keith> He’ll probably just want to rest

Shiro> Ok then bring him home and then I’ll pick u up

Keith frowned. Something was up. Shiro was never this pushy.

Keith> I wouldn't want to go without Lance

Shiro> Hang on I'm going to call you

“Great,” Keith muttered. He picked up on the first ring.

“I’m sure Lance wouldn't mind if you came without him,” Shiro said immediately. “You deserve a break. You’ve been working all week.”

Keith sighed. “Why do you want me to come so bad?”

Shiro paused before saying, “Allura is going to be there.”

“Of course,” Keith groaned, “and you want me to keep you from making a fool of yourself.”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Yeah, no,” Keith replied bluntly. “I need to pick up Lance, and I am not going to a party without him. Find somebody else to put on Shiro-the-Love-Struck-Blubbering-Idiot duty.”

“Come on, Keith, you’re like my wingman. Plus I have nobody else.”

“What about Hunk?”

“Busy.”

“Pidge?”

“Also busy.”

“Well, I'm busy, too,” Keith said in frustration. “Allura is just going to have to love you for the hopeless romantic that you are.”

“Thanks a lot,” Shiro said sarcastically.

“Anytime,” Keith replied, matching his tone perfectly. The call ended.

He was just about to leave for the airport when he got another text.

Lance> Hey babe. Flight got cancelled bc of the weather. I was really hoping to see you tonight :( but the next flight out isn't until tomorrow

Keith sank back into the couch and dared a peek out the window, where a few shimmering white flakes were gliding from the sky.

Keith> Ok no problem. Just text me when you need to be picked up

He sent the message and pouted at his phone. One more night. He could wait one more night. Couldn't he?

Keith> I miss you

Lance replied with a collection of carefully selected emojis, and Keith sighed. There was a tight, cold feeling worming its way into his chest. Maybe he should get a cat, a goldfish, something to cure the loneliness bubbling inside him. After a full week of keeping to himself, waiting for Lance, only to have his arrival put off by another painstaking day...Keith was sick and tired of being alone. It was that thought that made him open Shiro’s contact.

Keith> Change of plans. Come pick me up whenever

The house was enormous, set on a lake, the driveway a mile long and revealing through the trees a colorfully lit balcony that overlooked the glistening water. The air outside freezing, filled with the muffled sounds of loud music, but upon stepping over the threshold, Keith was hit with a blast of noise and heat that was generated by people pressed together, laughing and dancing and drinking.

“I thought you said only a few people.” Keith had to yell to be heard over all the music and voices.

Shiro just grinned and shrugged apologetically. He had lied.

Of course. Ever since enrolling for med school, Shiro seemed to have changed, dragging Keith to parties and outings, only to have Keith play third wheel for him and Allura, whom Shiro had been head over heels for ever since discovering she lived on campus nearby him.

Shiro was immediately pulled from Keith’s side by a boisterous group of partiers, leaving Keith to be jostled mercilessly through the crowd. People bumped his elbows, brushed against his shoulders, and breathed their smelly alcohol breath in his face. He couldn't see where he was going, the room was dark one second then alive with neon lights the next. The music blared, bass rattling through his bones and piercing his eardrums, warping the room around him into a colorfully numb, tripped out alternate reality. It was too much. All he wanted was to relax, not get stuck in the middle of this, heart pounding and chest tightening. He had to get out.

He had to get out he had to get out he had to get out.

Keith shoved his way to the edge of the room, away from the lights, away from the people. He pressed himself flat to the wall, wishing wildly for Lance. Lance knew huge social gatherings made him anxious, Lance knew he hated to be surrounded like this. If Lance was here, he’d gently take Keith by the hand, lead him away, somewhere quiet, somewhere safe, and sit with him until he could calm down. But Lance wasn’t here. Even Shiro was nowhere to be seen.

People were starting to look at him weird. Keith did his best to smile politely, and ducked away from the confused and somewhat disgusted faces, finding himself stuck behind yet another wall of people.

“Excuse me,” he squeaked, pressing through. And then he spotted it. A doorway. An escape.

It was slightly ajar, and whatever was behind was shrouded in darkness, but anywhere was better than where he was now, Keith figured. He pushed into the door, which delivered him into a narrow hallway. The air here was less stuffy, still stale, but contrasted by the cold, fresh breeze streaming in through an open window. Keith leaned his face on the cool glass, breath fogging as he gulped the night air like a drug, like it was his lifeblood. The music and voices were still loud, but not so glaring, separated by the door Keith slammed shut. Slowly, his heart rate decreased to something more acceptable.

While one problem had been solved, it was quickly becoming apparent that another had been created. Keith was essentially trapped; there was no way he was going back the way he’d come. People were screaming and now something glass was shattering. He looked around for another exit. The window was out of the question, it was way too high off the ground to make a safe jump. There was a door to his left, but upon turning the handle he found it locked. He heard a toilet flush from inside and decided he didn't want to go in there anyway. That left the stairs at the end of the hallway.

The damp, musty smell of basement got stronger with every step. Keith nearly tripped down the stairs when he heard a series of hair-raising, ungodly cries coming from what could only be a bedroom somewhere.

When he dropped off the staircase he was enveloped by a large room, stained white carpet underneath him and ductwork protruding from the low ceiling above. His shadow danced around the faded wallpaper, cast by the dim glow of a lamp that sat amongst the scattered furniture.

It was quiet here, or quieter. The commotion upstairs had faded to background noise, replaced by an old Pink Floyd album playing from a CD player. Keith grabbed a seat on a sinking, tattered old sofa, sparing a quick look around. The room was vacant, save himself and a couple seated on a couch against the far wall, making out. They didn't even stop to glance at him, and Keith sighed with relief. Maybe he could hide out here until things died down, then just head home. He had no idea what he’d been thinking. Coming to a party, when even he himself knew he was a loner.

He was a loner, but he didn't want to be alone. If only Lance were here.

“Mind if I join you?”

The voice clawed at Keith’s already shredded nerves and he let out a sharp gasp. He jerked his head around to see who it belonged to, and found himself looking into the jarring blue eyes of a stranger. He smiled at Keith, revealing a set of dazzling teeth.

“Uh, sure,” Keith said. He really wasn't in the mood for company.

The boy sat next to him, a little closer than Keith would have preferred, but he didn't say anything. This boy, or young man, Keith deduced to be about his age, maybe a little older, smelled like mint.

“Hey, are you okay?” There was that stupid display of teeth again.

“Yeah, I'm fine,” Keith said quickly. “Just, um, parties aren't really my thing. Especially not this one.”

“Huh. I guess I'm a pretty bad host, then, aren't I?”

Keith felt his face go beet red. “You...host? This is...your?” He stammered, eyes going wide.

“Haha,” the guy laughed good-naturedly, “no worries, gorgeous. You didn't hurt my feelings. But hey, look at me, still being a terrible host. Can I get you anything? A drink?”

“Yeah, okay,” Keith said. Maybe that was just what he needed. His nerves were about to jump off a ledge, and this guy wasn’t helping, with his unnaturally perfect teeth and pointed chin and shoulder slapping and long blonde hair, so blonde it was almost white.

The guy, Keith still hadn't caught his name, vanished gracefully up the stairs. Keith searched for an exit again, coming up empty-handed. Well, he supposed, being stuck with one person is a lot better than being stuck with a hundred.

He returned surprisingly quickly, carrying two glasses and an assortment of bottles. He poured them each a drink and handed one to Keith, who hesitantly sniffed the sweet-scented liquid and then took a drink. He had expected the alcohol to rake down his throat, but instead it slid down easily and settled in his belly, almost immediately kindling a slow burn.

“So, what do you do?”

“Huh?” Keith shook himself from his thoughts.

“You know, for work. Like a job.”

“Oh, right. I work at the pharmacy, in town. Mostly stocking shelves.” The flush that had finally begun to recede from Keith’s cheeks was returning. He hoped it sounded like a boring job. If he was boring enough, maybe he would be left alone.

“Neat.”

No, Keith thought, not neat. I’m boring. Go back to your party, dude, you’re creeping me out. It was true, this guy, Keith still had no idea who he was, was even closer than before.

“You really don't want to be here, I can tell.”

Keith blanched. “What? No, no, it’s not that, I uh...”

“It’s okay. I get it. You've probably got way cooler things to do with your Friday night.”

Keith couldn't help but scoff out a laugh at that. “Are you kidding? The only reason I’m here is because Shiro practically dragged me. Do you know Shiro?” Keith asked, just in case. He should know who Shiro was, Shiro had said the owner of the house was his friend, hadn't he?

“Of course,” the blond-haired boy rolled his eyes. “Everybody knows Shiro. How long have you known him, though? I haven't seen you around campus.”

“No,” Keith cleared his throat, “I don't go to the university. Shiro and I have known each other our whole lives, pretty much.”

“Your name is Keith, isn't it? I think Shiro’s talked about you before.”

“Yeah, that's me.” Keith smiled a little bit. Somebody actually knew who he was. He wasn't some loser who was only here to be a third wheel.

“He asked you to come because of Allura, didn't he?”

“He did,” Keith laughed softly, “how’d you know?”

“You’re not the only one he drags places. And I gotta say, Allura is a nice girl. Not my type, though. I’ve...got my eye on somebody else now.” He flashed his sparkling teeth again.

Keith felt his ears go red for some reason, and he looked down at his lap. He was surprised to find that he was holding an empty glass. When had that happened? Had it happened more than once tonight? He couldn't recall. They’d been talking for a while.

“I can get you another one,” the guy piped up. Keith made a point to find out his name soon.

Something deep inside him told him that maybe this was a bad idea. Something was off. But he felt warm inside. He wasn't anxious anymore. He felt okay.

“Sure, I’ll have another.”

When he had replenished their glasses, Keith decided to ask, “Hey, what’s your nam-”

“Can I ask you something?” He was cut short.

“Okay.”

“Do you think,” the guy set his arm on the back of the sofa, strangely close to Keith’s shoulders, “that some people, even though they don't know each other that well, are just...really good together?”

Keith sat quietly, sipping his drink. He was confused. What was this guy talking about?

“You mean like Shiro and Allura?” Keith asked.

There were the teeth again, paired with a somewhat exasperated chuckle. “I guess, but I was thinking of someone else, someone...closer...” he trailed off, eyes rising and settling on Keith’s. It was unnerving. Like a tiger locking onto its prey.

Suddenly there were fingertips resting on his cheek, burning into his skin. Keith froze, eyes wide as an owl’s. The fire inside of him flickered, then was doused to smoke. The guy was leaning in. He was leaning in and he was kissing him.

Keith couldn't move. He was stuck, time had stopped, he was trapped and he was kissing someone. Someone who wasn’t Lance. Why didn’t he stop? Why wouldn't he move? His limbs didn't want to cooperate, his head was filled with white noise, he was frozen in shock, he couldn’t even breathe. He couldn’t get free. Why was this lasting so long, why couldn’t he make it stop?

When their lips finally broke apart, Keith was still petrified. He couldn't figure out what had happened or why. What had just occurred? What had brought it on?

The fingertips were coming at him again, probing his face, searching for another kiss.

“No,” Keith forced the word out of his mouth. “No, I...I can’t. I have a boyfriend. I have…” He had to get out. He had been wrong. One person was way, way worse than a hundred.

Keith stood up, fighting against the room as it spun around him. Whatever he’d been drinking was catching up to him. He needed out. Stairs. The stairs would get him out.

He darted up the stairs, feet catching and sending him sprawling. He shakily rose and continued the climb. He didn’t look back. He didn’t want to.

Upstairs, the crowd had thinned to a more tolerable throng. Maybe it was late, or early into the next morning, Keith couldn’t tell. Time wasn’t exactly working for him right now.

“Shiro!” he cried, spotting his friend’s undercut and broad shoulders.

“Heeeey, Keifth,” Shiro dragged out the words, and his pronunciation was more than a little off. Great.

There was a girl latched into Shiro's arm, and she appeared to be the only thing keeping him from toppling flat on his face. Judging by her undeniably beautiful dark skin and silvery hair, this was probably the Allura that Shiro never shut up about. So he had managed to woo her without Keith’s help after all.

“I don’t fthink really I can drive, man,” Shiro slurred, “I’m have to thpend the night here.”

“Yes,” Allura chimed, “I really don’t think he’s in any state to be behind the wheel. Will you be able to get home, Keith? That is your name, right?”

“Yeah,” Keith said. He honestly wasn’t sure which question he was answering. Damn Shiro, standing there with rosy cheeks and glassy eyes, stupid grin plastered on his face. Making him come here, only to ditch him and get hammered and leave him stranded without a ride home.

“Goodnight, Shiro,” Keith muttered. “Nice to meet you, Allura.” He turned on his heel, and didn’t even care if anyone stared when he slammed the door on his way out.

His first thought was to call Lance. Lance could come pick him up. But no, no he couldn’t because he was away, and if Keith called him then he’d know he was at this party and maybe would figure out what had happened, that Keith had kissed somebody, somebody he definitely should not have.

A cab was his next option. He quickly found a number on his phone and punched it in, then sat down on the front step to wait. He'd rather freeze to death out here than go back in that house ever again. Though surprisingly, he didn’t feel all that cold. He was shivering, but he wasn’t cold. It was a strange feeling.

Keith woke the next morning nursing a slight headache. He cracked his eyes open blearily and found he was draped unceremoniously on the couch, jacket and shoes still on. He forced himself to the bathroom and splashed some cold water over his face, and as he reached into the medicine cabinet for aspirin, last night’s events came flooding back to him.

He looked at his reflection in the mirror. He looked dirty. He felt dirty. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the cool glass of the mirror, but now all he could see were those horribly perfect teeth. What the hell had he done? What the hell had he done? What was he going to tell Lance? Keith groaned. He didn’t want to deal with this right now. He didn’t want to deal with this at all. Sleep beckoned him, and he yearned to go, to fall asleep and forget this entire week had ever happened. The shrill buzz of his text alert made him wince.

Lance> Good news!!! Planes are flying today!!! My flight should arrive around 2pm, do u think u can pick me up?

Keith> Yeah ill be there

Lance> Can’t wait to see you!!!<3

Keith let out a sound somewhere between a whine and a growl, shuffling back to the couch. He wanted to just crawl in bed, but he knew if he did that there was a good chance he would never get up. What was he going to do? He couldn’t tell Lance. Could he? Lance would flip. Or would he? Lance seemed to freak out over trivial matters, but when things got serious so was Lance.

Keith didn’t know what to do. He was tired and confused and achy, and through his muddled thoughts he wondered if maybe he was making too big a deal of this. After all, he hadn’t been the one doing the kissing. He’d been kissed, yes, but he hadn’t started it, he hadn’t condoned it, he hadn’t asked for it. Surely, Lance would understand that. Wouldn’t he?

Waiting in the airport terminal, Keith felt sick. His hands were clammy and wouldn’t stop shaking, he was cold and queasy, sweating through his jacket but shivering as nerves churned in his stomach. He still hadn’t decided what he was going to say to Lance.

“Keith!” Lance's smile, though bittersweet to Keith, brought a sense of warmth and comfort. Lance jogged from the gate, dodging cranky travelers and luggage carts, and let his own luggage fall to the ground so he could wrap Keith in his arms and swing him around. The room was spinning when Lance set him down. He must have paled, because Lance seemed to notice something was off. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Keith replied quickly. He snuggled into Lance's embrace, breathing in his familiar scent. Not mint. Better than mint; he smelled like Lance.

“You sure? You don’t look so good,” Lance murmured, pressing a hand to Keith's forehead to check for a fever that was non-existent.

“I just missed you.”

“I missed you, too. So much. And I’m so glad I'm back, because the whole time I was gone there was nothing more I wanted to see in the world than your face.” Lance smiled sheepishly when Keith didn’t respond. “Sorry. Too sappy?”

Keith shook his head. “Lance, I… I have something to tell you.”

“What is it?” Lance asked gently. He was still smiling, encouragingly, sweetly. Keith ran his gaze over Lance's beautiful, perfect teeth, the teeth he loved to see, the teeth that would never be pushy, or creepy, that would always care about him. He stared into the sea of Lance's eyes, getting utterly lost as waves rocked the pathetic little raft he was floating on. Waves of love, unconditional, undying love, they were drowning him. But it was so warm. So safe. Not like the warmth he'd felt last night, no, this felt good, this felt right, not forced, not rushed. Lance loved him. Nobody else loved him, not like Lance did. Nobody else had ever really loved him.

What if, after what had happened, Lance didn’t want to love him anymore? Keith didn’t think he could handle that. He couldn’t take the chance. He couldn’t lose the best thing he'd ever had.

“What is it?” Lance repeated, frowning as he watched Keith space out right before his eyes.

“Smile again? Please?”

“Uh, sure,” Lance chuckled, parting his lips awkwardly. Keith was sure. Those were truly the most gorgeous teeth he'd ever seen.

“You have really nice teeth,” Keith said.

Lance smiled wider. “Thanks. Now, I don’t know about you, but I am totally ready to go home.”

Keith nodded. Lance picked up his bags and put an arm around Keith's shoulders as they started walking. “Do you want to hang out at my place?” he asked.

Keith gulped. That didn’t sound like a good idea right now. “I’m…kinda tired. It’s been a long week.”

“No kidding,” Lance huffed dramatically. “That’s no problem though, I have some notes to go over anyway. Stupid business presentations…” he then launched into a detailed recap of his trip. Keith listened without really hearing, leaning into Lance's warmth, knowing full well he didn’t deserve to. He didn’t deserve Lance's affection. He didn’t deserve Lance.

Guilt. It had settled in Keith's stomach like a ton of bricks, hard, heavy, and painful. Storms roiled in the back of his mind, rumbling feelings of doubt and shame. He told Lance everything. Everything. And in turn, Lance was open and honest with him. So why, all the times that he'd tried to say something, to call, send a text, why had his fingers frozen, his voice stopped, lungs shriveled away inside his hollow, guilty chest? It wasn’t even his fault. He hadn’t been doing the kissing. But he hadn’t pulled away either.

It was eating him up inside, stomach twisting into knots and gnawing at his ribs like a lion licking its kill clean. Keith couldn’t stand it. He tried to tell himself he'd done nothing wrong, that he wasn’t at fault, but then, surely it must be? He couldn’t bring himself to admit to Lance he'd done something wrong. Because then Lance might not want him. And that rejection would be even worse than the one he was feeling right now.

He lasted about a week. Until he was shaking because he couldn’t eat. He couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t function, knowing he'd done something that could hurt the person he loved most in the world, and he still hadn’t come clean about it.

Keith rolled over in bed and picked up his phone to check the time. 2:36 am. Sleep wouldn’t come, he was beyond tired now, practically zombified and just roaming the streets under a barely human disguise. What would Lance do if he were me? he asked himself, like he'd done countless times before. And he knew. Lance would feel awful. He'd be disgusted with himself, just as Keith was now. But he would be honest. Keith opened his phone again.

Keith> Hey r u awake?

Lance> Barely. Whats up

Keith> Can I tell you something

Lance> You can tell me anything babe. U alright?

Keith froze for what felt like the millionth time that week. You weren’t supposed to break up over the phone. Not that that was what he wanted. No, that was the last thing he would ever want. But it was easily what might happen.

Keith> I think it needs to be in person. Can I come over

He knew full well it was late. Or, technically early. But this couldn’t wait. Not any longer.

Lance> Sure

There was only one bus that made a run at 3 in the morning, and Keith was the only one on it. He paid the driver and stumbled out onto the curb in front of Lance's apartment. If he didn’t do this soon he was going to be sick.

As soon as Lance opened the door, he knew something was wrong. Keith's eyes were red, not teary yet, but on the way.

“What’s wrong?” Lance asked immediately, leading Keith to the couch and sitting close beside him. Keith shied away.

“I…I need to tell you something, Lance,” Keith choked out, struggling to stifle the thick layer of emotion that was stuck in his throat.

Lance looked like he was almost scared, rubbing Keith's arm. “What is it, baby?”

The words came out in a rushed, stuttered mess, and once they started Keith couldn’t make them stop. “While you were-were a-away, Friday night, Sh-Shiro d-dragged me to this stupid party, and, and I told him, I told him I didn’t want to go, especially not without you, but he kept saying something about being a wingman, and I don’t know, I went, Lance. I went, and there was this guy, and he…we…kissed.”

Keith felt his heart clench when the hand on his arm stopped stroking, and Lance's face fell. There was a new expression there, one he hadn’t quite seen before. Hesitant anger, festering sadness, overwhelming confusion, all stemming from betrayal. And above all, hurt. It was a physical pain, beating throughout his entire being, to see Lance hurt. It was excruciating to know he'd caused it.

“You…what?” Lance nearly whispered.

“Lance, please, I'm sorry,” Keith pleaded, taking his boyfriend’s hand, “it was an accident, I didn’t mean for it to happen, I swear.”

“You don’t just accidentally kiss someone, Keith.” Lance's eyes were cold. His voice shook.

“It’s not my fault, Lance. He kissed me!”

“Well, did you at least try to stop him?”

“I couldn’t! I don’t know, it was like I was frozen, I couldn’t move, I didn’t know what to do! It didn’t mean anything, Lance, you have to believe me. And it’s just been eating me up inside, I had to tell you, I'm sorry.”

“So the only reason you told me was because you couldn’t deal with the guilt.” It wasn’t a question. Lance jerked his hand away, expression steeling over.

“No, that’s not what I meant, I…” Keith desperately searched for any hint of compassion in Lance's features. It was fruitless. “I'm sorry! I didn’t want any of this to happen, Lance, I didn’t! I love you! You know that!”

Lance shook his head in exasperation, staring up at the ceiling with a humorless laugh. “I knew it was too good to be true.”

“Too good…to…what? What are you talking about?”

“You,” Lance waved his hands between them, “us! This! This perfect relationship, with the perfect person. It was too good to be true, because you can’t just go around kissing random people without meaning it! That’s not how life works, Keith! What about when we kiss, does that mean anything to you?”

“Lance, of course it does! It was just a kiss, okay? What we have is real, that was just…just…” Keith felt tears sting the corners of his eyes. His throat prickled. What was this? What was he doing? He wasn’t a crier.

“I don’t want to hear it.” Lance wasn’t usually a crier either, and yet here they were.

“What do you want to hear, then? I'm sorry? I’ll say it a million times, Lance, from the bottom of my heart, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.”

“I can’t believe you! You think I'm just going to bend over backwards because you apologized? I'm not that shallow. I'm not you.”

Anger and pain flared in Keith's belly. Couldn’t Lance see how awful he felt about this? Why was it so hard to forgive? It was one stupid kiss, and this was one stupid, stupid fight…

“I'm not perfect, okay, Lance? Surprise! I have flaws. I make bad decisions and I do things I regret. But you’re not perfect either!”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Lance cried indignantly.

“It means…it means,” Keith searched for the words. He could feel his lips trembling. “You're annoying! You sing too much, and you never shut up about your family, and you always spam my phone, and post too many selfies, and what about Nyma, at the office? You're constantly flirting with her!”

Lance's eyes widened, then narrowed to slits. “You really wanna go there, Keith? I can play the game, too. You work too much. You're impulsive. You never clean your apartment, and you refuse to get a haircut. And don’t even get me started on how clingy you are. God, you are clingy. And you're talking shit about my family? And accusing me of cheating, when you're the one who went and kissed somebody behind my back? I can’t believe I ever loved you!”

“Take that back,” Keith snapped. His entire body jerked with the force of the statement. He couldn’t see properly; his eyes were welled up with tears.

“I will not! It’s the truth!”

“Please, Lance,” Keith tried one more time, “I'm begging you, you have to know I didn’t intend for this to happen. Shiro dragged me there, and then we started drinking, and I don’t know, things just got out of hand.”

Lance looked like he hated Keith in that moment. Keith felt a strong, genuine urge to kiss him. He held back.

“Get out,” Lance hissed.

“But—”

“Get the hell out, Keith! I never want to see you again!”

Keith shakily rose to his feet. Lance wasn’t joking. He spared one last glance behind him, at the boy he loved, the only person he could truly be himself around, who hadn’t left him, the only person he could ever be happy with, the only one he ever wanted to be happy with. Lance glared back.

“I'm sorry,” Keith said softly, his hand on the doorknob. “I love you.” He left Lance's apartment for what might be the last time.

It was a cold, starless night. Wind whipped at his hair, and froze the tears that streaked his face. They kept flowing, steady and frigid, no matter how hard he wiped at them. Why hadn’t he brought a coat? Or some gloves, or a hat, or anything that might ease the numbness that was taking over his body. But perhaps that wasn’t entirely from the weather.

Even with the wind buffeting past his ears, Keith heard the telltale whine of heavy brakes. The bus. He was still two blocks away.

“No, no, no no no,” Keith muttered, willing his legs to move faster. He skidded around the corner, but it was too late. He stumbled after the fading tail lights of the bus, only to collapse in defeat against the hard, frosty surface of the bench that sat at the bus stop. The street was shrouded in darkness now, except for a single streetlight that hung above Keith’s head. A spotlight, saying “hey, everybody. Look at this loser.”

Keith put his head in his hands, fresh tears spilling into his palms. How had he managed to screw things up so bad? He hadn’t meant any of the things he'd said about Lance, Keith loved his singing, and his family, and he knew that Lance and Nyma were nothing more than friendly colleagues.

“Stupid,” he muttered, raking in breath, “stupid, stupid, stupid. You just had to go and mess it up, just like you always do. What did Lance ever see in you anyway?” Keith asked himself, face tipped to the sky as a dusting of precipitation—rain, snow, he couldn’t tell, he didn’t care—came falling upon him. Maybe this was for the best. Lance deserved so much better than him anyway, right? Right.

Keith shivered, wrapping trembling arms around himself in a useless effort to get warm. He would just have to walk home. He didn’t have enough money on him for a cab and there was no way was he going to sit around waiting in the cold for the next dumb bus to come.

The side streets were darker, but also faster, and so Keith ducked through alleyways and under sparsely lit streetlights towards his own apartment. He was pretty much all cried out, and what he could now tell was snow was washing away the salty mess that coated his cheeks. That didn’t stop a little hiccough from heaving out of his chest every so often. He couldn’t have stopped them if he tried.

He hadn’t gotten very far before he heard the crunch of pebbles against the sidewalk coming from behind him. A stray cat, maybe? No, these were footsteps, much heavier than a cat’s. A person. Keith quickened his pace, and the crunching behind him sped up, too. It was too dark to sneak a proper glance behind, but he was pretty sure he saw the glisten of a smile, menacing, hungry. After taking several random turns without shaking the guy, Keith was sure: someone was following him.

He pulled his phone from his pocket, clumsily scrolling through his contacts. Without thinking, he clicked on Lance.

“Pick up, pick up,” he hissed, almost jogging now, hoping to lose whoever was trailing him. Of course Lance didn’t answer. Who else was there to call? Lance was closest, and by the time he got ahold of Shiro, or anyone else for that matter, he could be dead meat.

It had just occurred to Keith that calling the police might be a good idea when it happened. He felt it more than saw it, another presence, a figure surging towards him from the depths of an alley. And before Keith could react, someone had grabbed him.

“Get offa me!” he growled, struggling against strong hands that pinned his arms behind his back.

The only response he got was laughter.

“I called the cops!”

“No, you didn’t.” Someone, a man with a deep, rasping voice, was bending over pick up his phone from the ground, where it had fallen, unlocked, from Keith's grip. Keith could almost picture the smirk on the guy’s face as he asked, “Who’s Lance?”

Up until now Keith had thought he only had two assailants; one holding him and the other holding his phone. But a third voice piped up, a snarky, weaseling tone that said, “Oh, look, you’ve got a little heart by his name. Why don’t we give lover boy a call?”

“Leave him out of this,” Keith snarled, trying to jerk his arms free. “Who are you? What do you want from me?”

“Don’t worry, we just want to have a little fun.”

A fist slammed into his gut at the word, and Keith bit back a yelp, gulping for breath. This was not his idea of fun. If he could just get free then he could fight back. He stomped on his capturer’s foot. The hands around his wrists loosened, and Keith jerked free.

He could see the dim outlines of the three men. They surrounded him, still laughing, a sound that haunted Keith from the party. It was a funny sort of laugh, like maybe they were drunk.

Still winded from having the air knocked out of him, Keith swung his arms up just in time to block another punch. He wasn’t completely helpless. He could fight. But against three angry lunatics…

His strategy was defense. Duck, block, swing, repeat. The darkness wasn’t helping. As soon as Keith felt his fist connect with something, someone else’s fist connected with him. The fresh snow was slippery underneath his feet.

He took a hit to the face that sent him reeling, the sickening metallic taste of blood flooding his mouth. He could feel it, hot and sticky, trickling from his nose, his lips, his knuckles, busted open.

Shaking away dizziness, Keith readied himself for another battering. He wasn’t prepared when two of his attackers charged him, pinning him to the wall. His spine rubbed against the jagged brick and he gasped for air as he fought their hold.

With two people holding him back, the third was free to do some serious damage. Keith couldn’t hold back the cries of pain that escaped him as fists and feet pounded him, no sign of slowing, no sign of mercy.

He wasn’t sure how far these people were going to take this. He didn’t want to find out. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t know if these people wanted to kill him, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to let it happen. Using the two guys on either side of him to boost himself up, Keith aimed a kick that sent the third sprawling on the ground, crashing into nearby trash bins with a loud clash.

They were all tired. Keith could see it in their body language, the way their shoulders slouched beyond a normal fighter’s stance, the way their chests heaved. The one he'd kicked was still on the ground behind him, the other two backed into a corner in front of him.

Maybe he could win this. Maybe he could make it out of here. Maybe…

Maybe the guy behind him wasn’t as out of commission as Keith had thought. Because the next thing he knew, something had clocked him on the back of the head, and he went down, body smacking against the pavement, ears ringing, vision filling with brightly colored stars.

“Oh, shit.”

“Is he dead?”

“I don’t know, and I'm not sticking around to check. Come on.”

Keith blinked wearily as the three people took off into the night, feet pounding against the sidewalk. He lay there in the alleyway, pain throbbing through his head, seeping into his limbs, searing across his chest. Tiny snowflakes landed on his skin. It hurt too much to brush them away. It felt kind of nice anyway, cool and soothing on the bruises that were beginning to swell. But it still hurt. Keith moaned as everything melded into one swirling, nauseating haze.

“Damn it, Keith,” Lance huffed, hovering over his phone. “Just answer me.”

Keith had called roughly ten minutes after leaving, which had prompted Lance to throw his phone across the room. But after staring at the wall in silence for the better part of half an hour, Lance had gone to retrieve it and sent Keith a quick text.

Lance> Hey

It had gone unanswered, so Lance had sent another.

Lance> I'm sorry I flipped out. Can we talk?

Still no answer.

Lance> Keith?

Lance> Keith I know you're mad at me but can u please answer just so I know you're ok?

Lance> keith

Lance> KEITH

And so that had led him here, pacing the floor of his apartment. The rational part of him—the part that was still furious with Keith not just for what he'd done, but also what he'd said—knew that Keith was just upset, and was giving him the silent treatment, payback for not picking up his call. But another part of him, the part that still cared, and probably would never truly stop caring about Keith—that part was afraid. What if something had happened him? What if his bus crashed? The weather wasn’t exactly great for driving. What if he'd gotten locked out of his apartment? It had happened to Lance often enough.

Lance knew he would never be able to sleep. He knew what he'd said had really hurt Keith, but Keith had really hurt him. Kissing somebody else? Lance would never have done that. He was a naturally flirtatious person, and he was well aware of it, but ever since he'd begun dating Keith, he'd made sure to be polite and nothing more to anybody else. Keith was the love of his life, and Lance would never do anything to jeopardize that. Even now that Keith had, Lance wasn’t sure he was willing to let go.

Lance> if you don’t answer me in thirty seconds I'm coming to find u

That was it. Lance pulled his jacket on, grabbed his keys, and went out into the snow.

Keith wasn’t really aware of time passing, but when he squinted out of swollen eyes, a dull, grey daylight was just beginning to sneak its way around the edges of buildings, still too dark to make out anything but shadows. He could feel the hard ground underneath him, and a pool of wetness that had been last night’s snow. He shivered, even though the cold was starting to fade, replaced by a strange, stinging tingle.

Pain stabbed at his chest when he drew breath, and a soft, whining moan left him on the exhale. Obviously no one had heard last night’s scuffle, because here he was, body throbbing against the wet cement. The melted snow felt good on his bruised skin, but that was about the only comfort he could find. Too exhausted and hurt to move, Keith lay there and let the world spin around him, hoping that someone would find him soon.

He allowed his mind to swim in and out of consciousness, listening to the gentle flutter of pigeons, and water dripping from rooftops. He focused on that, or tried to, tried not to think, not to feel the pain that coursed through his being. It was starting to disappear now, replaced almost entirely by the tingling sensation.

Everything around him was a blurry mess when he heard the squeal of brakes and slam of a car door, as if they were far away, separated from the real world by a fuzzy tunnel of time and space.

And then Keith heard his name. Is this what death feels like, he wondered, was some angel-voiced deity calling out to him?

“Keith!” He heard it again, louder this time. He knew that voice. This wasn’t some higher power, calling him to the afterlife. No, this was his boyfriend. He needed that voice.

“Lance,” he croaked.

“Keith, oh my god, what happened? Who did this to you?”

“Lance,” Keith rasped, “m’sorry. I...didn’t mean to—” he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth as Lance touched his shoulder, and winced at the way his chest rejected the sudden intake of air.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Lance murmured, quickly pulling his hand away. “Can you tell me what hurts?”

Keith mumbled something unintelligible.

“Keith, now’s not the time to play tough guy. I need you to tell me what hurts and how bad, right now.”

“Ev’thing,” Keith slurred. “Pretty bad.”

“Can you get up? Keith? Answer me, buddy.”

Keith moaned and pressed his face further into the ground.

“That’s it, I'm calling an ambulance,” Lance said, whipping out his cell phone out of his pocket. As he dialed the three digits, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over Keith's near-lifeless frame. “Hang in there. Help is on the way.”

“He’s sleeping, but you can go in to see him if you’d like.”

“Thank you,” Lance sighed as the nurse let him into Keith's room. He eased himself into an old wooden chair next to the bed and let his hand find Keith's.

Keith lay there, fast asleep under a mound of blankets that moved with the steady rise and fall of his chest. He'd needed stitches in his lip, and in a few other cuts on his face. Lance couldn’t bear to look at the grotesque bruises that marred his soft, porcelain skin, and he busied his eyes with the cream walls of the room and pale blue curtains pulled firmly over the window. But he wasn’t able to keep his eyes off Keith for long.

He ghosted his lips over the tender skin of Keith's cheek in a delicate kiss, gently tucking a strand of loose hair behind his ear.

“I'm so sorry, angel,” Lance whispered. “This is all my fault.”

“Are you two a couple?”

Lance sat up in surprise, averting his gaze to the doctor who had just entered.

“We’re,” Lance paused. Were they still a couple? Keith had kissed someone, someone who wasn’t Lance, and Lance had told him to get out, that he never wanted to see him again. A slight part of him had meant it, but…

“We’re really close,” Lance replied. “He is gonna be okay, right?”

“Yes. I know he looks pretty rough, but with plenty of rest he’ll be just fine. You're lucky you found him when you did, temperatures dipped fairly low last night. Too much longer and he could have begun to develop hypothermia.”

Lance pressed his fingers over his lips. He couldn’t do anything other than nod. Keith could have died. He could have frozen to death, all alone, because Lance had screamed at him and made him go outside in the middle of the night, in the beginning of a storm.

“It’s my fault,” Lance said. His throat felt tight.

“What do you mean?”

“I…we fought…and I told him get lost. I made him leave, he never would’ve gotten hurt if I would’ve just calmed down and let him stay. It’s all my fault,” Lance rubbed furiously at the tears starting to trickle from his eyes, “it’s all my fault.”

“Sir, if you can't remain calm, I'm going to need to ask you to leave.” The doctor looked at him, eyes caring but voice stern.

Lance nodded. He took a deep breath. “I know. I'm sorry. I just…when I found him, lying there, he was so small and so still I thought he was dead. I could never live with myself if he was dead.” Lance shook his head.

“I trust the police were contacted about the incident?” the doctor changed the subject.

“Yeah. They filed a report and stuff, and they’re trying to find whoever assaulted him. They're going to come by and ask Keith a few questions once he's feeling better.”

“Good. Well, that’s all I have to say, other than to remind you to keep the both of you calm and comfortable. Someone on staff will be by to check on Keith in an hour. If he wakes up before then, just make sure he knows he's safe, and tell him to go back to sleep. The pain medication will most likely make him drowsy, so it shouldn’t be a problem. If you need anything, the nurses are always walking the halls. Don’t hesitate to give us a shout.”

“Thank you,” Lance said as he processed the information. “Thank you so much, Dr…I'm sorry, I missed your name.”

“Smythe,” the man said, turning on his heel and leaving the room with a wink.

Lance settled down in the old, hard chair, sneaking his hand around Keith's once again.

The first thing Keith was aware of was a sense of weightlessness. He was floating. Maybe he really was dead.

That possibility was immediately ruled out when he tried sitting up. Pain flared through his ribs and seized his brain as the world began turning much too fast. He flopped back down with a groan.

“Keith?” The voice was soft on his pounding head. Exhaustion tugged at every fiber of his being, willing him to return to the blissful darkness of sleep, but he knew that voice. He needed that voice. He did his best to speak back.

“La,” was all he managed, still fighting the swimming haze that clouded his mind.

“Yeah, baby, it’s me,” Lance cooed.

Keith blearily forced his eyes open. He blinked, and slowly took in the view around him. “Where’m I?”

“You're in the hospital, love.” Lance hovered over him, speaking like he was calming an abused puppy. His face was pinched with worry.

Keith panicked. Hospitals meant you were hurt, bad. Hospitals meant doctors and needles and stitches and anesthesia and no knowledge or control over what was going on. He had to get out.

Trapped underneath the mountain of blankets, Keith writhed to get free despite the heavy ache of every bone in his body screaming at him not to. A pair of hands pushed him firmly back onto the bed.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Lance said quickly, “you're okay, Keith. It’s okay.”

“I’m scared,” Keith whimpered. He wanted to slap himself for admitting that, but he couldn’t think straight and he had no clue what was going on and he needed Lance to understand.

“It’s alright, baby,” Lance murmured. “You're safe. I'm right here, I'm not going to let anything happen to you. Just lie still, you're safe now.”

Keith couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like Lance was crying. “M’sorry,” he mumbled.

“No, no,” Lance said softly, cupping a hand under Keith's jaw, “you don’t need to apologize right now. Just go back to sleep. Can you do that for me?”

Keith nodded slightly, his movements already weak from exhaustion. Sleep overtook him easily.

When Keith woke up next, he felt a lot less weightless and a lot more aware. He tentatively touched his fingers to his temple. His head still hurt. Everything hurt, a dull, persistent ache that settled over him and wouldn’t go away.

“Lance?” he coughed. No answer. A glance around the room told him he was alone, the lights dimmed, doors and curtains shut tight. Had Lance been here at all, or was it just a dream?

Keith sighed. Lance wasn’t here; he had no reason to be. Any relationship they had was pretty much over. Lance wanted Keith out of his life, he had made that pretty clear.

After struggling to disentangle himself from the blanket mound, Keith rose to his feet. Or, he tried to. His knees wobbled and the room spun, and he gripped the edge of the bed to keep his balance. Being upright hurt more, and he could feel what little energy he had leaking away. He was shaking after just two seconds.

Keith froze when the door clicked open to reveal Lance, of all people, sipping steaming liquid from a styrofoam cup.

Lance's eyes widened. “What do you think you're doing?”

“I…um…” Keith stared at Lance blankly, knees buckling. He had no idea what he was doing. He might have been a little more out of it than he’d like to admit.

Lance sighed and set his drink on the bedside table amongst the many other empty cups and soda cans that had accumulated there.

“Come on, let’s get you back to bed,” Lance reached out to him.

“No,” Keith snapped, pushing the hands away. He didn’t want anybody touching him, not right now, not when he was hurt and confused.

“Yes,” Lance clipped off the word. “Bed. Now.”

“I don’t need to listen to you,” Keith said, warily eyeing Lance's arms coming toward him again. He really didn’t feel well. Too much longer and he was either going to pass out or throw up.

“Yes, you do. Doctor’s orders. And if you don’t follow them right away, I'm calling him in here. So get your butt in bed, grouchypants.”

Keith sunk into the bed with a grunt, and fumbled to pull up the blankets. It hurt to move.

“Let me help,” Lance offered. He arranged the blankets and fluffed the pillow with military precision, but there was something missing, a loving-kindness that Keith had grown used to. Lance pulled his chair closer to the bed. “How’s that?”

“Good,” Keith nodded. Then he frowned. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“What do mean by that?” Lance tilted his chin back defensively.

“I'm just going to end up saying something stupid again. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I can handle myself just fine, thank you very much. And I have a right to be here, I am both your emergency contact and the one who found you knocked out and shivering in the slush.”

“Lance, what happened?”

“What happened?” Lance asked incredulously. “Why don’t you tell me? You're the one who was half dead in an alley! Broken ribs, borderline hypothermic, concussion, multiple lacerations, whatever the hell that even means—”

“No, I mean…what happened to us?”

“Oh.”

Yeah, oh, Keith thought miserably. All Lance seemed to care about was that he'd gotten beat up. Not one of his best days, sure, but all that had stemmed from the now-missing link in their relationship.

“I don’t know, Keith. I don’t know. I love you, but I don’t understand how you let that happen, kissing some stranger while I'm halfway across the country. And it’s just killing me to see you all laid up like this, when it’s my fault for making you go out in that storm, in the middle of the night—”

“Stop.” Keith groped around the top of the bed for Lance's hand and eventually settling on grabbing his wrist. “S’ not your fault. I should have been more careful.”

“Can we just not talk about it right now?” Lance asked. “You need to rest, and I…I just can't.”

“Okay,” Keith whispered. He let go of Lance's arm.

“How do you feel? Somebody is supposed to come around soon to give you another dose of pain meds.”

“Spectacular,” Keith muttered.

“This is humiliating.”

“Keith, there is nothing humiliating about a wheelchair. There are a lot of people who would be very offended by what you just said.”

“No,” Keith groaned, “not the wheelchair itself. The fact that even though I am completely capable of walking on my own, I'm being forced to sit and have you parade me around the parking lot.”

“Completely capable? Keith, you almost passed out because you sat up too fast. Besides, I think it would be fun,” Lance said innocently.

“Well, it’s not. Just hurry up and push me. I want to get out of this damn thing.”

Keith was pretty sure he fell asleep on the ride to his apartment, because the next thing he knew, he was home and Lance was easing him into bed. Whatever drugs they’d given him at the hospital must still have been taking effect, because he was too tired to protest.

“Do you want a snack?” Lance asked. “Or a drink?”

“No. I just want to sleep.”

“You’re sure you don’t want me to stay?”

“Go home, Lance. You don’t need to look after me.”

“I don’t like the idea of you here all by yourself.”

“I’ve always been by myself, Lance. I'm used to it. You're probably tired anyway.”

“You got me there,” Lance sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Thank god for crappy hospital coffee or else I’d be flat on my face right now.” He chuckled. Keith couldn’t help but feel it was forced.

With some effort, Keith managed to roll onto his side. He looked at the other side of the bed, the spot that had always belonged to Lance when he slept over. Not anymore.

“I'm not going to leave you here alone,” Lance decided, raising his hand to block Keith's protests, “but I definitely need a nap.” He eyed the same spot Keith just had, but he seemed to think better of it, for he asked, “Do you mind if I use your couch?”

“Sure,” Keith said.

“Okay. Holler if you need me.”

“Sleep well, Lance.” Keith felt his face drain as soon as he said it. You weren’t supposed to say things like that to someone who didn’t love you anymore.

Lance looked a little surprised. Then his face morphed to something more neutral. Almost bored. “You too.”

Keith spent his first waking hours moping. He was bored, and wanted to get out of bed, but he was too tired and sore to really do anything. A simple trip to the bathroom was enough to wear him out. Looking at the spread of snacks and drinks Lance had left next to his bed, he was glad he hadn’t forced Lance to leave. But at the same time, having Lance here was driving him insane.

“Keith, you have absolutely no groceries!”

“This is a crummy apartment, Lance, not a five-star hotel. What did you expect?” Keith grumbled. He had to yell for Lance to hear him from the kitchen, and it was taking energy he didn’t have.

“I wasn’t expecting a four-course meal, but come on, you have to have more than Mr. Noodles.”

“Well, I don’t.”

Lance’s head popped around the corner. He looked blankly at Keith in bed, buried in the comfort of what felt like a million blankets and pillows. “Forgive me, your highness,” he deadpanned. “I guess I'm stopping by the store on my way back from work. What are you going to do while I'm gone? I can call Shiro to come stay with you.”

“No, don’t bother Shiro. I'm fine by myself.”

“He’s a med student, I'm sure he'd like the extra practice.”

“Shiro didn’t spend thousands of dollars in tuition fees to watch me hobble around the house eating Mr. Noodles.”

Lance sighed. He sounded tired more than anything. “Alright, but call me if you need anything.”

“I’ll be fine,” Keith repeated for the thousandth time. “Just go, before you're late for work.”

Lance nodded. He looked back at Keith, sadly, as if he were an injured animal. Keith caught his eye and Lance's face hardened. And then he was gone.

Keith didn’t mind Lance complaining about his lack of groceries. What he did mind was having Lance simultaneously taking tender care of him and then hating him for his betrayal. Why was Lance going through all this trouble for him if he hated Keith now? Keith didn’t know where he stood at this point. Maybe Lance was only here out of pity. Keith probably looked pretty pathetic, laid up in bed with only microwavable pasta to eat. But Lance had insisted he stay in bed as much as possible. Keith didn’t want to upset him any more than he already had.

Maybe that was part of it. Upsetting each other. Keith thought about what he’d do if he was in Lance's shoes. Yes, he would be angry. He would be furious, and hurt, and confused. But he couldn’t think that he would ever stop caring about Lance entirely. It just wasn’t possible to not care about someone who you had once loved. Who you still loved. If Lance still loved him then maybe he had a chance. Maybe he wasn’t going to be cast out, just as he had been cast out from his family, from school, even from Shiro after his first year at university. All those times Lance had tilted Keith's chin up, told him not to worry, that he would always love him, that it didn’t matter what his family said, because Lance was his family now—those had all meant something. They still did. Lance was a part of who he was now, and nothing was going to change that, whether Lance ever forgave him or not.

Moping aside, Keith also got in some restless nap time. It was in the middle of one such session that a knock at the front door roused him.

“Hullo?” he asked groggily. “Come in.” He wondered vaguely why Lance would be knocking. Maybe it was to be formal. Formal usually meant broken up. They might really be broken up. Then it occurred to him that whoever was outside might not be Lance.

Keith bolted out of bed so fast his head spun. He crept out of his room and towards the door, wrapped loosely in a blanket. Lance wouldn’t be knocking. Who would? Were tax collectors still a thing? Keith had never seen a tax collector. Maybe it was charity. Charity was good. What wasn’t good was if Keith had been somehow tracked to this apartment. Maybe the guys in the alleyway were really out to get him. For what, Keith had no idea. But they would come in, and beat him up again, or worse, and Lance would come home to find the mess and Keith would feel awful all over again.

He was on the verge of hyperventilating and jumping into a fighting stance when the door swung open gently to show Shiro, standing on the porch. He let himself relax.

Shiro looked him over, a sheepish smile quickly giving way to a grimace. “You don’t look so good. Lance told me what happened, how are you feeling?”

“I feel fine.” Keith scowled, blankets dragging on the floor as he made his way back to the couch.

“Listen, Keith. I'm really sorry. This was all my fault.”

“No, it isn’t. You're not the one who kissed some other dude, are you?”

“What are you talking about?”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know?”

Shiro blinked. He shook his head. “I thought Lance was just angry you went without him.”

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” Keith said. He pulled his knees to his chest. It hurt his ribs, but he felt safer this way. Shiro wouldn’t see the gaping hole where his heart used to be. No one would see how broken he was.

“Keith, you okay?” Shiro lightly brushed against his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Keith replied. His mouth felt dry. His eyes didn’t. But he wasn’t crying. Not yet.

“You know you can talk to me.”

Keith sighed. What the hell, he figured. If he didn’t tell Shiro, then Lance would.

“I…I messed up, Shiro.”

Shiro sat closer to him, nodding, encouraging. Understanding. For the first time in a long time, Keith caught a glimpse of the Shiro he knew. The Shiro he trusted.

“I'm sorry,” Keith whispered as he began to shake. This was too much. It was all too much. Why had he been so emotional lately? He hated it.

Shiro understood. Somewhere beneath the newfound frat boy attitude, his old self shone through. “Shh,” he murmured. “It’s okay, Keith. It’s okay.”

“No it’s not,” Keith drew a rattling breath, one that hurt just about every part of him. “Lance might be breaking up with me. I don’t even know for sure because he won��t talk about it. He stays here in my apartment and looks after me, but he won’t talk about us.”

“He just wants you to focus on getting better.”

“How am I supposed to get better when he's making me feel so awful?”

“Tell him that.”

“I can’t.”

“You're going to have to.”

Keith sighed. He didn’t want to think about this anymore. Not with Shiro anyway. “What are you even doing here?” he asked.

“Lance texted me to come check on you.”

“Of course he did,” Keith groaned.

“Well, since I'm here, is there anything I can get you?”

Keith miserably sunk into the couch. “No.”

“Do you want to play checkers or something? You must be bored.”

“Checkers, Shiro? I'm not five.” Keith was, indeed, bored out of his mind, but really all he wanted to do was go back to sleep. His bed seemed even more welcoming than it had before.

“Okay,” Shiro replied.

They sat in silence. Keith shifted restlessly, but each time he moved he only became more uncomfortable.

“I’m really glad you're okay,” Shiro said softly.

Keith glanced at him. “Thanks.”

“I'm sorry I’ve been acting so weird. It’s just…” Shiro huffed, and dragged a hand over his face. “I’m not doing too well in school, and I guess I’ve just been trying to distract myself. But I'm getting it together. Starting with you. I apologize.”

Keith felt his jaw part in awe. Shiro was apologizing? Keith didn’t feel worthy of anyone’s apology. Especially after he’d just told Shiro what an ass he'd been to Lance.

“I mean it,” Shiro pressed.

Keith nodded. “Thank you.”

Lance came home late. Shiro had left hours ago, and Keith was still sitting on the couch. He had picked up a sketchbook and was working away on a detailed picture of the tv remote in front of him. He couldn’t watch tv because of his concussion, so he'd settle for this.

“Hey,” Lance mumbled. He dumped his stuff on the kitchen table.

“Hey.” Keith looked over at him. He was leaned against the table, eyes shut, rubbing the back of his neck and wincing.

“Sleeping on the couch can't be too comfortable,” Keith observed.

Lance gave a sort of half-shrug, half-nod. “Certainly not what I'm used to.”

Keith bit his lip. How was he supposed to say this without it seeming like he was just trying to get on Lance's good side? “You can take the bed tonight. I’ll be fine on the couch.”

Keith was surprised to see that Lance actually looked appreciative. He was not surprised to hear the answer, “No, it’s alright.”

Lance had taken his first advance at reconciliation well, so he decided to try another. “You look like you could use a massage.” Keith grimaced at how awkwardly that had come out. But it was something Lance had often done for him, and it was calming, and Keith could feel the tension coming off of Lance in waves. Lance declined.

“Okay,” Keith said. “I'm gonna head to bed, then. Goodnight.”

Lance didn’t say goodnight back.

The alley was dark. Water dripped from the pipes that ran up the sides of the buildings. Keith looked down at his hands. They were dripping, too—with blood. He looked up. Someone was hunched in the shadows before him, just out of reach. Keith leaned forward to get a better look at the hooded figure. He took a step forward. On the next step he found he couldn’t move his feet, and they stuck uselessly to the pavement as if he were part of a statue. He tried again, but the more he struggled the more stuck he felt, until a suffocating blackness yanked him free and rushed him against a wall. He was pinned there, by enemies he couldn’t see, without hope of escape.

Slowly, in one fluid motion, the figure turned to face him. Its eyes were shrouded with darkness. The only parts of skin visible were the thing’s hands and mouth. They glistened with blood, too. Keith sucked in a breath as it advanced towards him. It paused just before him, and he felt the impending sense of doom, waiting like a roller coaster teetering at the top of a slope. The mouth parted.

Keith jolted awake, gasping for air. He couldn’t breathe, his hair clung to his body in a sheen of sweat, all he could see was a row of perfect, sparkling, pointed teeth. He shuddered, nausea creeping up his throat, seeping into his nose, he couldn’t breathe he couldn’t see he couldn’t think all he knew was there was something evil out there and it had kissed him and it was after him again and Lance was going to be mad Lance already hated him Lance was going to tell him he was stupid and mean and ignorant and uncaring and awful—Keith threw back the covers of his bed and stumbled out, bare feet hitting the ice cold floor, washed in gray moonlight. He managed two steps before crashing against a dresser and tumbling to the floor.

Keith was still shaking, he could tell as he raised a hand to dab at the mess of tears spilling down his face, wondering what the hell he was doing here on the floor. He had to get up, he had to move, had to run, those perfect shining teeth were coming to ruin his life all over again. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to get up, still couldn’t get a proper breath, couldn’t hear anything over the guttural sobbing coming from his mouth, and so he lay, skin exposed to the freezing linoleum. His fingernails found the edges of the floorboards, and he gripped as hard as he could. And he wept. He wept, because of the dream, because of Lance, because he was tired of feeling miserable and sorry for himself, and just tired in general.

The bedroom door creaked open. A pair of feet shuffled in, clad in a pair of fuzzy blue slippers. Keith squinted through the hazy mist of tears and moonlight, eyes following from the slippers, up the legs, chest, and to the face of Lance. It was stuck mid-yawn.

“Lance,” he whimpered. “Lance. Lance, the teeth. His teeth and he kissed me and I love you and I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” Keith sobbed, “I never meant to, I didn’t want to, he had teeth and he kissed me, Lance, he kissed me and I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.”

Lance knelt down, tentatively resting a hand on Keith's back. “Hey,” he murmured. “Hey, Keith, hey. What’s going on? Hey, hey, look at me, you're okay. You’re okay, it’s okay.”

Keith looked fearfully into Lance's eyes. There was no anger there, only concern. “Lance,” he croaked.

“Yeah, it’s me. I'm right here. I think you had a bad dream, buddy. Is that what happened? Did you have a bad dream, Keith?”

“Y-Yeah, I- I think so.”

Lance sighed. He sounded relieved. “Let’s get you back in bed. You're okay.”

With Lance’s steady hand on his back, Keith crawled back into bed. He couldn’t make himself stop shaking.

Lance sat on the edge of the bed, eyes downcast. “Do you want me to stay?”

“Don’t go.”

“Yeah, that’s what stay means, silly.” Lance swung his legs up onto the mattress and leaned back. One arm pillowed his head, the other draped over Keith. “Try to sleep,” he murmured.

When Keith leaned into him, eyes shut tight, soaking up Lance's warmth, Lance wasn’t sure what to do. So he didn’t do anything. He held still, felt his arm rise over Keith's chest as he breathed. He soon stopped shaking under Lance's touch, and his eyelids fluttered, lashes brushing against Lance's skin as he drifted off the sleep. Lance wished he could do the same. But now he was torn, inner turmoil wreaking havoc like a tornado through his brain. He should be mad at Keith, right? Keith had betrayed him, for lack of a better word. But Keith was sorry. There was no doubt about that. And Lance knew he shouldn’t be bending over backwards because of apologies alone, and he wasn’t.

Keith needed him, that much was obvious as he clenched his jaw in his sleep and clutched fitfully at Lance's t-shirt. Lance rubbed his back, and murmured to him, and he settled. He'd never even considered the psychological effects getting jumped in an alley would have on Keith. No wonder Keith was being so high-strung and looked like he was about to lash out.

Lance felt like a horrible person. He'd made Keith go out in the dark all alone. He'd left Keith to deal with the aftermath of being attacked all alone. But was that really why he was here now? Because he felt guilty? No. He'd been assuming Keith deserved all of it. But he didn’t, not really. It hurt to see him suffer like this. That brought the question again; why was Lance here? It wasn’t pity. No. it was something deep. A connection. Love.

He still loved Keith. He would probably never stop. It was impossible to just stop caring about someone who you had invested so much time and emotion and feelings into. Even if something had changed, the feelings were still there. Feelings don’t just go away. Lance had never been one to ignore his feelings. He wrapped his other arm around the sleeping Keith and pulled him close.

Keith was still curled around him when Lance woke, his head tucked neatly into the crook of Lance's neck. His breaths were soft and even, starkly different from how Lance had found him last night. He was warm, keeping Lance from feeling the chilly edge of apartment air.

Lance would never know the reason, but he felt a hint of panic when Keith stirred. It was replaced by a softer, easy warmth in his chest when he looked at the way Keith's forehead wrinkled as he yawned, and he felt Keith's fingers curl tighter around him for a moment and then let go. His eyes flicked open lazily, and he blinked a few times, until his eyes found Lance.

A red hue crept onto Keith's face when he noticed Lance was staring at him. He realized he was wrapped around Lance like a human sushi roll, and he quickly disentangled himself.

“Sorry,” he muttered, voice still husky with sleep.

Lance didn’t reply. Instead, he said, “I have the day off today.”

“That’s nice,” Keith said.

“Yeah.” Lance decided not to mention that it was because his boss had heard about Keith's little hospital trip, and insisted that Lance take the time off until Keith was better.

“I'm hungry,” Keith said. “Did you buy groceries?”

Lance sighed, “No. I was tired so I just came back here.” He felt bad about it now, especially since Keith was finally showing some sign of an appetite since the whole ordeal.

“Oh. I guess I’ll go heat up some Mr. Noodles.”

“Hang on. Let me get dressed, and we can go out somewhere and get real breakfast. My treat.”

“Okay.”

When Lance was ready and Keith was bundled up in more layers than was probably necessary, they buckled themselves into Lance's car. Keith didn’t know where they were going, but Lance looked confident behind the wheel so he didn’t ask.

“Keith?”

Keith raised an eyebrow in Lance's direction.

“Who was it? That you—that kissed you?”

Keith bit his lip. This was a story Lance wasn’t going to enjoy hearing.

“I won’t get mad. I just want to know.”

The way he said it was sincere, so Keith told him, “I don’t really know much about him. I only met him that night, and, honestly…I didn’t even get his name.”

Lance frowned.

Keith sighed, “I was kind of freaking out, because I couldn’t find Shiro, and there were too many people, and then I ended up pretty much alone in the basement with this guy. He was kind of weirding me out at first, but he was nice, and I don’t know, we just talked. And had a couple drinks. I don’t know,” Keith repeated. He felt awful talking about it, but Lance deserved to know. “He just sort of leaned in, and…kissed me. And I didn’t know what to do. I panicked. It was like I was paralyzed. And when he pulled away, I guess I came to, I don’t know, but I told him…I told him it wasn’t right, I told him…I told him I had you. And that was all I needed. I got out of there right away.”

Lance was quiet, which was unusual for him. Keith stared down at his hands. He didn’t even look up when the car came to a stop.

“Hey. Earth to Keith. You still hungry?” Lance asked softly.

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Keith mumbled. He hadn’t really been eating enough lately.

Lance waited patiently for Keith to extract himself from the car, and walked by his side through the parking lot. Keith thought about taking his hand, but then decided it probably wasn’t a good idea.

He hadn’t been paying attention to where he was when he stepped out of the car, just following Lance. Only after walking past the large yellow M above the doorway and smelling the aroma of fry grease did he realize Lance had driven them to McDonald’s. Keith couldn’t help but notice how the other people waiting in line were giving him strange looks. They were probably concerned about his face, he figured, he still looked pretty beat up. Normally he wouldn’t be bothered but today he just felt so out of place he wanted to curl up and be a hermit the rest of his life.

Lance had noticed. “Why don’t you go grab us a seat,” he suggested gently, “and I’ll order us hash browns or something.”

Keith nodded. He liked hash browns. He was glad the breakfast menu was available all day; the analogue clock on the wall said it was more like lunch.

He picked a little table in the corner, away from the people, save for a sweet-looking old couple a few seats down. Keith sat and waited for Lance, busying himself with flicking some stray crumbs off the table.

“Hey.”

Keith looked up, expecting to see Lance, but he was met with a blinding smile and a swish of long ash-blond hair.

“You,” he stammered out, “w-what are you doing here?”

A shrug. “I guess I just like the company.”

“You need to leave.” Keith's voice was low. Dangerous.

He was ignored. “Man, what happened to you? Such a pretty face, all covered in bruises.”

Keith felt a snarl crawl up his throat. “Leave. Now.”

“Aw, come on. Listen, I just want to apologize. I was drunk, and impulsive,” he got closer with each word, “and what can I say, I'm weak for something so beautiful.”

No. This was not okay. Nothing about this was anything even resembling okay.

“Get away from me. You’ve ruined my life already, so just leave me alone.” Keith saw something move out of the corner of his eye. Lance.

“Hey, babe,” Lance said with fake cheer, sensing that something was up. He sauntered over with a tray of breakfast food. “Who’s this?”

“Someone who was just leaving,” Keith growled. Lance frowned.

“Damn, you said you had a boyfriend, but you never said he was this hot.”

That was when Keith snapped. Injuries and etiquette be damned, he was going to flatten this guy. Hands balled into fists, he lunged forward.

Lance beat him to it. The tray toppled to the floor, and the guy went flying over the nearest table with a crash of chairs. He didn’t get up. The old couple stared with mouths agape. Lance gracefully picked up the tray and stray food, as if nothing had happened. He led Keith out of the McDonald’s.

Keith couldn’t keep up with him, he was walking too fast. But Lance stopped in the middle of the parking lot, still gripping the tray. He picked up a hash brown and bit into it fiercely.

“That was him,” Keith explained solemnly.

“Yeah,” Lance said, oddly focused on eating his hash brown despite it having fallen on the floor. “I know. I knew the second I saw him.”

They went grocery shopping after that. Lance didn’t speak other than to ask about milk, “two percent or one?” Keith answered two, so they bought two. When they got back to Keith's apartment, Lance insisted on spending the rest of the afternoon preparing a “proper dinner. No more Mr. Noodles.” He refused to let Keith help, insisting that he go to bed and rest. Keith didn’t protest. He was exhausted.

It was hours later, from a deep and dreamless sleep, that Lance came to wake him.

“Hey, sleepyhead. You hungry?”

“Mflmsflrem,” Keith mumbled.

“What?”

Keith groaned and tried to wake himself up. He was pretty sure he could hear his bones creak.

“I see how it is,” Lance said, “you think I'm a terrible cook.” There was a small smirk on his face.

“I like your cooking,” Keith protested, doing his best to sit up, “I'm just stiff. S’hard to get up.”

Lance frowned and sat on the edge of the bed. “What hurts?”

Keith didn’t answer.

“Come on,” Lance sighed, “don’t be like that.”

Keith sighed. “Shoulders,” he shrugged a little, “ribs.”

Lance bit his lip and reached out a hand. “Can I?”

Keith didn’t say no, so Lance gently set his hands on his shoulders and prodded at the tense muscles.

“Gee,” he said. “You must be sore.”

“You don’t need to tell me,” Keith muttered, though his voice lost all its edge as Lance began to rub the ache from his shoulders.

“Better?” Lance asked after a minute.

“Better,” Keith nodded.

“Alright. Let’s eat.”

Dinner was nothing short of fantastic. Lance had outdone himself with an array of what could only be described as comfort food, taste fit for a king, with enough carbs to fuel a full-grown moose running a marathon.

“This is good,” Keith told him. “Like, really good.”

“Thanks,” Lance grinned. Then he chuckled.

“What?” Keith frowned.

“Don’t pout,” Lance was still laughing, “you just, you got a little something.”

Keith just pouted more and grabbed a napkin.

It was after dinner, curled up on the couch, that Keith felt fatigue take over his body once more. He stifled a yawn and raised his head to ask Lance what time it was.

“No clue,” Lance said, masking a yawn of his own, “but I'm tired.”

“Me too,” Keith said. “I'm going to bed. You…you, um, don’t have to sleep on the couch. If you don’t want to. You can sleep in the bed…with me…if you want.”

The corner of Lance's mouth quirked up in what could almost be called a smile. “I’ll be there in a couple minutes,” he said.

Keith got up from the couch and gingerly stretched his arms. He trudged off to get cleaned up and into bed, thinking he would wait up for Lance, but once he was nestled under the covers, the gravity of sleep pulled his eyelids over his eyes, and he was dragged down with them.

The early hours of the morning replaced the dark peace of sleep with restless waking. Keith shifted uncomfortably and tried to force himself back asleep, but napping for so long earlier had given him no reason for more rest.

Lance was next to him, he realized after a moment, not touching him but close enough to radiate warmth. Curled up on the other side of the bed, wearing an old t-shirt of Keith’s, his small frame rising unevenly under the fabric. Lance wasn’t sleeping either.

“Lance?” Keith ventured tentatively.

“Yeah?”

“I…I can't sleep.”

Lance sighed. “Me either.”

“What are you thinking about?”

Keith felt Lance's eyes on him, and he turned his head to meet them.

“You,” Lance said.

“Me?”

Lance nodded. “Honestly, you're all I can think about. The past few days have been hell. It’s not the same without you by my side, Keith. I...I’m not happy. I'm tired, and grumpy, and I miss you. I overreacted to this whole thing.”

“You didn’t overreact,” Keith said quietly.

“Fine, I wrong-reacted, then. Either way, I ruined everything, and now I'm just running around pretending I'm okay, because if anyone knew…if they knew, that on top of everything else, I screwed this up, too…” Lance roughly turned to face the wall. His voice was muffled in the blankets, but Keith was pretty sure he was crying. “All I ever do is make mistakes. And this just proves it. I've lost you. And now I don’t know what to do. I'm sorry, Keith. I'm sorry.”

“Lance,” Keith tugged at his arm, “hey. Come on,” he said softly. “Look at me.”

Lance sniffed and let Keith pull him to his other side. He shut his eyes and bit down on his lip. He heard Keith sigh, and then there was a hand, small and warm, rubbing his arm, and a voice, soft and safe, whispering it’ll be okay.

“You didn’t…you didn’t lose me,” Keith mumbled after a moment. “I still love you.”

Lance looked up at him with wide eyes. “I love you, too. Always. I don’t want this to be the end. I want us to work.”

“Me too,” Keith blinked, slow and sure.

“Does that mean we can…we can be us, again?” Lance asked tentatively.

“Yeah,” Keith smiled, “I think it does.”

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