#For Better or Worse Part 2

[wildroseofarran]

For Better or Worse, Part II || Captain Issott & Boone || December, 2021

Tristan: He would've wanted to kill him for the look on his mother's face alone.

Two weeks after Luke's visit with the private investigator, Tristan found himself sitting on a hotel balcony staring off at the horizon. The view was incredible but he wasn't really taking it in. All he could see--all he'd been able to see for days--was the look on his mother's face when he'd told her about the results of Dakota's investigation.

The DNA test confirmed it: Gideon Clare Boone was his biological father, the man who had impregnated Megan Seger in 1981 and left her to raise a child on her own.

A child that would turn out to be, to Tristan's devastation and Meg's bewilderment, a fucking merman.

And now here he was. Sitting in a hotel in Playa del Carmen, Mexico trying to work up the nerve to go see the man while trying desperately not to hurl.

Leslie: Leslie had made a point to distance himself from Meg during the ordeal. It wasn't his place to speak up and interrupt the whirlwind of emotion to process between herself and her son. Refusing to influence how she felt about the supernatural simply because he was a part of it. Instead, he busied himself by updating his passport, learning key phrases and possible responses in Spanish. An easy feat, thanks be to his fluency in Portuguese.

Something for them to practice together. His version of healthy distraction. But now they were in Mexico. First time. He wanted to sample local cuisine. Browse local markets. Something to occupy himself further. Give them something other than their reason for being here.

But they couldn't avoid reality for long. Leslie wouldn't allow it.

First, he would gently throw his pillow at Tristan's back.

"You're slowly pulling a Band-Aid."

Tristan: Tristan startled far more than a soft pillow warranted, providing evidence enough of how far his mind was wandering.

More than anything he wished they were here just for pleasure. An actual vacation was so much better than this.

He sighed and held it on his lap. “Worried I’ll see my breakfast again if I rip it off. Can’t seem to make myself move either. It’s like I’m glued to this chair.”

Leslie: "You can't walk backwards from this. You can mourn what was, but you can't go back, baby. I'm sorry you have a shitty father, but you don't have a shitty life."

Tristan: He shook his head. “No. I don’t have a shitty life. I have a damn good one. I’ve got a mama that did her best to raise me right. I’ve got a roof over my head and a job I enjoy.”

He stood and walked over to Leslie. “And the man I love and I have got two beautiful little girls. That’s a damn good life, and I’m proud of it.”

Leslie: "Then there's nothing he can say or do that'll change that. You already know the man he is. There'll be no surprises. We just need a few answers."

Tristan: Tristan shook his head. “Nothing he can say or do will change that,” he repeated in an effort to reassure himself. Knowing what he had and that whatever happened today wouldn't change it did make him feel better, but the dread was still there.

“I know what kind of man he is but not the man himself. He made sure of that when he took off and if we’re being honest, I don’t really want to know him. I’ve got a parent. I just want answers.”

Leslie: "Then that's what we're walking into. With that, there's nothing to be disappointed in. Your mother is waiting for you in Edenton."

Leslie leaned back, taking Tristan with him.

"Can always be tomorrow. Rip the band-aid off, or sex and food market."

Tristan: Although he nodded and smiled, there wasn't a doubt in Tristan's mind that there could still be very much to be disappointed in. His father could refuse to talk. He could've taken off at some point between Dakota's investigation and their arrival. He could take off the moment he saw them and disappear into the sea.

There was so much that could go so very wrong. He hoped it wouldn't, but he couldn't discount it.

Tristan smiled and shook his head for a third time. "Whole point of ripping off a band-aid is to get it over with. Let's go ahead and get it over with. 'Sides, much as I appreciate your confidence in me, I wouldn't be able to get it up right now, sweetheart."

Leslie: "You don't always have to be on top, you know." His smile was tempered. Even the playful nip at Tristan's face was delicately measured.

"Was hoping you'd want to get this over with. Sooner you see him, the sooner you can move to the next step."

Back to their feet, then. One more kiss for the road, cradling Tristan's jaw in both hands.

"Just gonna lock up some things and we'll go."

Tristan: The next step...

Just what the hell was that exactly? Damned if he knew.

He'd take that kiss gladly, promising Leslie another when they'd done what they had to do. He grabbed his bag from the closet and made sure Luke's file was inside, along with all of Dakota's surveillance photos and a few others he'd brought along just in case.

There would be no mistaking the man, and there would be no room for denial once he was found.

"The boat rental place is a ways away. I'll call the front desk so they can get us a taxi." Boat rentals. Another of many jobs related to the water.

Fitting, for a merman.

Leslie: "How's your Spanish?" Leslie asked, hands stuffed into his pockets. His Portuguese would play a crucial role, if Tristan had nothing to go on. Wouldn't be the first time Leslie would have to pretend. Never before in this setting.

Tristan: “Passable. Won’t win any awards but I can get by.”

Tristan called down to the front desk and, not wanting to wait in the room, took Leslie’s hand and led him downstairs.

He had the address of the boat rental place so finding it wouldn’t be a problem. The taxi driver probably thought they were just two more tourists out of many wanting a day out on the water.

Not that Tristan could even be in the water in public anymore. The man they were going to see had made sure of that.

When they arrived, he paid the driver and mumbled a thank you before getting out.

Leslie: Today, Leslie was easily led by the hand. He checked himself yet again for wallet, keys, and phone. He'd never left his passport in a hotel room before, and today was no exception. Perhaps once he mastered a better lock spell for safes.

This was Tristan's turn to lead. No more jokes, no more teasing to coax a smile. His intention to be nothing more than a quiet support beam while Tristan confronted his biological father.

Tristan/Boone: The boat rental shop was a tiny faded blue building with a rusted sign, barely noticeable among the sea of tourists and dozens of other rental places and stalls and shops up and down the road by the docks. A few people stopped to read a second sign with the hourly and day rates, but very few—if any—actually went inside, and no one was coming out.

He’s probably alone.

Tristan stared at the building and swallowed, limbs like jelly and heart beating a tattoo in his chest. This was it. After months of searching and waiting, after years of wondering, he was finally going to set eyes on the man that was his father.

He felt himself take Leslie’s hand and walk forward as if in a daze. He didn’t really feel the doorknob as he turned it or hear the little bell above it chime its welcome. The warmth of Leslie’s hand in his was the only thing confirming that this wasn’t a dream, until he saw him—

A burly man with a strong, bearded face and a mane of salt and pepper hair. This was Gideon Clare Boone.

His father.

The man turned to face them, nodding in greeting. And, gauging them to be American—or maybe Australian—said, “Folks here to rent a boat or some jet skis?”

Leslie: The man looked almost exactly as Leslie had imagined. Tristan, having never laid eyes upon his father, shouldered many similarities. If ever there was debate between nature versus nurture, Leslie knew once and for all the answer was both, slamming together at once.

His instinct was to speak. As much as he didn't want to shield his companion, just a moment longer would do no harm.

"Depends the price," he offered, making no effort to hide his blended accent.

Tristan/Boone: Ah. Gideon nodded to himself. Brits. Figured.

"Won't find better in town." His voice was surprisingly gentle and clear despite its depth. There might have been an accent there, or a combination of them even, but it was too light to distinguish. "How long are ya'll here for? I can offer you a weekly rate if--"

"Are you Gideon Boone?"

Gideon's easy polite smile froze as he turned to face Tristan, who seemed to have at last found his voice and was fixing the man with a cold stare.

"...Who's asking?" Subtly, he reached beneath the counter.

Leslie: Leslie took a single step backwards, his angle towards Gideon Boone somewhat sideways. It was a strategic and defensive stance, though his expression remained calm. His right hand, furthest from view, had become warm with Quintessence, index finger slowly circling, pointed at the floor. A gust spell in his arsenal, though the concern now was whether or not he could complete the ritual before something happened.

Tristan/Boone: Fortunately for him, Tristan had seen enough movies and had spent enough nights drinking in Charlie Brandt's sketchy dive to recognize what that little gesture meant.

Unfortunately for Gideon Boone, rather than have the intended intimidating effect, it just pissed Tristan right the hell off.

"What?" he sneered, nodding towards the counter. "You gonna shoot your own son?"

The question hit Boone like a bucket of ice water.

He froze once again, taking a minute to fully, properly look the guy over. When he'd been asked for by name he'd expected a debt collector or a bounty hunter or a pissed off jilted husband who'd joined forces with another pissed off jilted husband to confront him, but a son? His son?

Boone paled, and Tristan noticed.

"Coming back to you now, ain't it?" He left the comfort of Leslie's side and took a step closer. "'Bout forty years ago, Kitty Hawk? Woman with wavy blonde hair? Taught high school? Is it all coming back?"

"Now, wait--"

Another step. "Her name was Megan. Told you she was going to have your baby and you took off. Called, wrote, went to your place, you were nowhere to be fucking found."

"Look, man, you've got the wrong--"

"But before you took off like the dickless fucking coward you are, you forgot to tell her that the baby she was carrying was a fucking merman!"

Tristan dunked his arm in the fish tank on the counter and pulled it out again, revealing the shimmering iridescent scales on his skin. Some of the water that had splashed landed on Gideon's skin and had the exact same effect. Even their color was the same.

"Gonna tell me I have the wrong guy again?"

Leslie: There was a lot to take in. The shouting, body language, nuance of expression - but his world revolved around Boone. He had all the time in the world to discuss and comfort Tristan; not if the man was dead. One wrong move and his spell would throw his intended through the tattered excuse of a wall.

But, at least for the moment, he didn't seem required. Tristan had this planned, at least in appearance. Must have gone over his speech a hundred times, or perhaps an outline. Whatever had been prepared now felt like a burst dam, and well deserved.

For his part, he remained a statue.

Tristan/Boone: Boone had enough experience with debt collectors, bounty hunters, and pissed off husbands to be able to tell who was a real threat and who was more bark than bite. This guy? His--fuck, his son--absolutely did not fall into the second category. He was taking a swing if he got the chance.

There was a tiny part of him that was just a little bit proud of that. The part that wasn't looking to get decked.

The rest of his parts were trying to think on the fly. Even if he had wanted to deny anything or hide his skin, it was impossible. He'd been caught off guard.

"All right all right all right, look." Boone raised his hands defensively. "Why don't we all just caaaaalm the hell down. I'm tryin' to run a business here and I can't have anyone seeing shit they ain't supposed to. Why don't you come back later and--"

Tristan scoffed. "Are you fucking kidding me? You think I'm gonna give you a chance to skip town before I get what I came here for? How stupid do you think I am? We're gonna talk about this now."

He turned and stalked over the door, flipping the lock and the 'open' sign to the side that said 'closed'.

Leslie: Leslie took his eyes off Boone long enough to check for a secondary exit. Anywhere this man might run to slip away. Hell, an open window would probably be enough, if given the opportunity.

He didn't want to dismiss his loaded spell, but neither did he want to allow any chance of escape. The smallest silence was disturbed by a thick pop of his joints. Left hand raised and fingers painfully tense and kinked. A brief chill overwhelmed the room, gone as swiftly as it had appeared. This was all he could do; restraint and a single offensive.

Tristan/Boone: The rental shop was little more than a shack but it was larger than it appeared from the street. There was a beaded curtain back behind the right end of the counter that led to a room that doubled as a living space and office, beyond which there was another door that led to the outside.

Boone, however, wasn't thinking about any of that. He might have, though, if he hadn't felt that momentary chill and a crackle of something in the air that felt distinctly like magic.

It wasn't coming from his son; it was the other guy. Something told him that one would take a lot more than a swing if Boone made one wrong move.

Nothing for it then.

"All right all right, fine. You win. Come around ba--"

"Uh-uh."

Tristan interjected before Boone could take a step, going behind the counter and putting himself between his father and the doorway with the beaded curtain.

"What'd I just say? I'm not giving you a chance to escape out of here, I'm going first."

If there was another door or something back there, Tristan was going to make damn sure his father didn't get anywhere near it.

Leslie: Windows were no longer an option, but there was no need to explain himself. No need to make this man feel any more like a cornered animal. He was primed to strike defensively with any provocation, and while Leslie would not blame him, he also would not allow such action.

The readied fire in his hand, set to explode with a final flick of his fingers, warmed his skin uncomfortably, but still, he said nothing, waiting to follow behind and stand guard in the doorway.

Tristan/Boone: Boone felt more like a man being dragged to the gallows than a cornered animal but it all came down to the same thing. Couldn’t run forever.

“Fine, whatever you say,” he grumbled, following his son into the other room. “Wasn’t gonna try anything, geez.”

There were two doors in the room: one led outside and the other to a bathroom. Tristan locked the outside door and then planted himself in front of it. Boone might say he wouldn’t try anything but Tristan didn’t buy it.

He doubted Leslie did either.

For his part Boone just sighed and shook his head, taking a seat on the small couch against one wall.

“All right, you got me where you want me.” He turned to his son. “What do you want?”

Tristan gave him an incredulous look. “Are you serious? The hell do you think I want?”

Boone turned to the other guy. “Help me out here.”

Leslie: The witch took a breath, refusing the swallow the lump in his throat. It wasn't so unreasonable to give an answer, at least, one suitable to the situation, and the man on the couch.

"Pretend for the next thirty minutes you're Pinocchio. Or truth serum. Whatever gets you through this."

Tristan/Boone: “Yeah, Pinocchio.” Tristan stepped closer. “Except instead of your nose growing, I stick a fishing lure under your fingernails every time you tell a lie.”

Again Boone looked between them. It was almost as though he were watching some sort of deranged tennis match.

“Is he serious—are you serious?”

Leslie: Leslie looked at his beloved, doing his very best not to seem concerned in front of Boone. Not to give anything away and cause vulnerability. Never in a hundred years would he have expected those words out of that mouth. But this was his man. There would be no contradicting.

"You'll not find out if you just comply."

Tristan/Boone: Tempting as it was to keep his mouth shut, Boone knew when he was beat. He wasn't entirely sure if his son was the type to actually carry through a threat like that but the look in his eyes was tipping the scales toward 'yes' even if the other guy didn't look too sure.

"Fine, fine!" Boone raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Ask away. What do you wanna know?"

Tristan crossed his arms over his chest. "For starters, I wanna know how the hell I managed to live nearly thirty-nine years of my life without knowing what the fuck I am."

"Thirty-nine?" Boone repeated incredulously, regarding his son with utter shock and turning to the other guy for confirmation. "You're thirty-nine?"

Tristan scoffed. "What, didn't realize it had been nearly four goddamn decades since you walked out on my mother?"

Leslie: Hearing his age always startled Leslie as well but for a different reason. The man before him was strong, quick-witted, youthful. A year older. Perhaps two. Seven and a half years seemed too many.

It wasn't his place to say anything. No intervening. Nothing until Boone made an inappropriate move. His role was silence, if not intimidation. Tristan had plenty and to spare.

Tristan/Boone: No he damn well had not. Time was a son of a bitch.

"Fuck me running," Boone muttered, crossing the room before either of them could stop him. There was a bottle of tequila in his desk and he was going to take a swig or three whether they liked it or not. He needed it.

Thirty-nine years since Meg had come to him to tell him she was pregnant. Thirty-nine years since he'd packed up his shit and put Kitty Hawk in his rearview mirror. Thirty-nine years since he'd snuck into Meg's hospital room and seen that tiny little thing sleeping in a basinet beside his mother.

Thirty-nine goddamn fucking years.

"I'm waiting, Boone."

Boone turned to look at his son, at the tiny little thing who had grown into the pissed off man who was staring back at him. He took another swig of tequila.

"I hid it. When you were born...I went back to Kitty Hawk and..." Boone gestured vaguely.

"You hid it. What does that even mean? Did you take my abilities? Did you put a spell on me?"

Boone nodded.

Leslie: To the Wyld and Wyrm, he wanted to say something. Ask questions. Tristan would get to the question eventually. More like a statement. It must have already been on his mind. Boone knew this would happen. One day his son would appear, his abilities realized. Why bother delaying the inevitable?

Tristan/Boone: "Why?"

"So you wouldn't--fucking know! So Meg wouldn't know!"

"Don't you think at that point it was too little too fucking late?!" Tristan shouted. "You let her get pregnant!"

"That wasn't supposed--!"

"You let her get pregnant and you didn't tell her!"

"How the hell could I? You think it's easy to just tell people th--"

"No, I fucking don't, which is why it makes even less sense to me that you'd let me happen in the first place!"

Boone had no answer to that. He just drank more tequila.

Tristan shook his head in disgust. "If you were so goddamn worried about her knowing you should've done something about it when she was in time to get rid of me, not when I was already fucking born!"

Tristan unlocked the backdoor and threw it open, letting it slam shut as he stormed outside.

Leslie: Too late to realize his shoulders had tensed. Raised, even, without knowing. Shouting such as this was new to him, and made obvious by the quiet shock and confusion in his eyes.

Too many thoughts to organize, too many raw feelings he needed to process. What Tristan had said... he couldn't allow those statements to affect him.

The silence could only stretch for so long.

"Meg... is very open-minded," he said, gently. "You had to know that. Know she would do anything for her son. You... lost something you didn't have to."

Boone: "You're wrong." Boone was staring a hole into the wall. His voice had lost some of its energy, some of its fight. It was like the past forty years were hitting him all at once.

"All I did was let go of something that wasn't meant for me to begin with. I knew I wasn't cut out to have a kid. White picket fence and a station wagon and little league games weren't something I wanted."

Leslie: "He's a fisherman. He plays soccer on weekends. I told him what I am and he just... kept on as though I told him the weather. You ran away because of a picture that didn't have to be the picture. Is that all? Is that what all of your kind do? That's not Tristan."

Boone: A fisherman. That figured. The physical manifestations of what his son was may have been hidden with magic but, like love and poverty, there were some things you just couldn't hide. A merman was always going to yearn for the sea, even if he didn't know what he was.

But that wasn't what made Boone forfeit his staring contest with the wall and turn to look at the man he was speaking with.

"Is that his name? Tristan?"

Leslie: Leslie couldn't help but straighten as he was turned to. Despite all of his conflicting feelings, the man was older, and upon the pressing subject, an authority.

"You... You didn't even know his name? How could you just... "

Boone: "There was a little card with his name on it stuck to his bassinet in the hospital. Didn't bother to read it."

Boone returned to the couch with the bottle. "Didn't see the point in knowing the name of a kid I was never gonna see again. Just did what I went there to do and got out. How's that for father of the year, huh?"

He scoffed, drank again. "Still think I should've stuck around?"

Leslie: "A better version of you." There was no bite behind his words. On the contrary. Without intention, there was something almost childlike. His disbelief bordered on innocent. He had seen things, done terrible things, and still had the capacity to be astonished.

"But, if you were able to - you had to know this would happen."

Boone: "Ha! There ain't no better version, sport." Boone gestured sarcastically at himself. "This is it." The only version of him there was, and the only version he cared to be.

He shrugged. "The thought probably occurred to me at some point, couldn't say for sure."

Leslie: His eyes lowered to Boone's feet. The man didn't deserve eye contact.

"Merman, is that what you're called? I saw other names. We didn't know which... was correct."

Boone: Boone nodded as he drank again. At the pace he was going, he was well on his way to drunk.

Couldn’t happen soon enough.

“Yep. Merman’s what I’ve always used. There’s a few other things out there like me but they’re not exactly the same. There’s more to them. Me, I’m just straightforward half-man, half-fish.”

Leslie: Tristan needed his moment. Leslie would fill in the blanks in between. However long that would take.

"With a tail? Because he - when it happened, he just... nearly died. I want to know more."

Boone: “With a tail,” he confirmed with another nod. “And gills. He not have gills?”

Leslie: "That's all he had. And some - some scales."

Boone: “He still not have a tail?”

Leslie: "Took a while. A lot of patience, but, yes, he has one."

Boone: “Took a while, huh…” And he’d said that the first time, there had been only scales and gills. The magic hadn’t broken all at once, it had worn off gradually.

He shook his head. “Should’ve been permanent. I could deck that asshole magician.”

Leslie: "Could have been intentional," the witch nearly scoffed, "or he felt slighted."

Boone: “What right did he have to feel slighted? I should feel slighted, that little trick cost me fifteen grand.”

Leslie: "That's all?" said with offense in his tone.

Boone: “That’s not enough for you? Know how much money that was back then?”

Boone shook his head and emptied the bottle. There was another one here somewhere…

Leslie: The chill in his hand dissipated, but the fire ready to ignite in his other tingled, becoming uncomfortable to hold. He had to let the spell go, shaking his hand and flexing his fingers. He could restart on a dime if need be. This man was a disappointment, but he wasn't much of a threat. Not yet.

"To withhold someone from their nature, I don't see that very often. Not from honest, good people. I'd expect the kind of magician you found to be just that. A magician with parlor tricks."

Boone: At this point, Boone was too buzzed to care about the magic he could sense in the air. If this guy or his son wanted to try something let them; Boone just wanted to be drunk first.

“You gonna stand there and judge me now? Pah.” He waved a hand and began his search for more tequila. “I just did what I had to. I did it for Meg, you know.”

Leslie: "Why do you think Meg needed you to do anything?"

Boone: “Look, she wanted to have the kid all right?” Ah, there it was. Boone pulled a fresh bottle of tequila from a cabinet and opened it.

“Should’ve seen her face when she told me she was knocked up, all excited and imagining the station wagon and shit. All I did was make sure the kid turned out normal. I owed her that much, didn’t I? It was supposed to be permanent. She’d get a normal kid and I’d get to keep doing what I’ve always done. Everybody wins.”

Leslie: Leslie's eyes shut, but only for a moment. Still on high alert, he couldn't let his guard down, not with Tristan absent. He could only assume this conversation was between the two of them. Which was why he made no effort to hide the absolute disgust in his voice.

"Frankly, the easy way out never made anyone in this room very happy."

Boone: “The hell difference does it make now anyway?” Boone flopped back on the couch with his bottle, shaking his head all the while.

“He got forty good years, didn’t he? So did Meg. Now he just has to be careful about getting wet, what’s the big deal? Watch, when he shacks up with some girl and decides he wants to continue the species one day, he’ll be singing a different tune. I betcha dollars to donuts when that day comes, he’s gonna show up here again begging for that parlor trick.”

Leslie: Leslie's hands lowered altogether, gently falling to his thighs. His expression fell somewhere between dead and disappointed. There was nothing more in this world he needed than Tristan back in this room. An unwelcome tingle itched his fingertips.

What had been an innocuous voice had darkened, lowered. "Do you know what I am?"

Boone: Boone glanced over at his companion. He’d looked docile enough before but now he was starting to look as pissed as his son.

Just couldn’t fucking win today.

“I can guess,” he sighed, looking away again. “So what are you gonna do, huh? Avenge your buddy? Take a swing at an old man?”

Leslie: "I could castrate you," the witch said simply.

Boone: Now there was a threat Boone had heard before. A couple of times.

“And accomplish what exactly?”

Leslie: "Never doing this to another innocent family again, for starters."

Boone: “Way ahead of you, sport. Been shooting blanks since ‘86.”

Leslie: "You still have a sac."

Tristan/Boone: “So what, you’re gonna tear it off? Gonna tear my dick off, too?”

“There’s an idea.”

Tristan’s voice came just seconds before the back door opened again. With these thin walls, he’d managed to hear the last of what Boone had said.

Leslie: Leslie's chin lowered upon Tristan's return, eyes falling back to Boone's feet where he wanted them.

Tristan/Boone: Boone didn’t bother sitting up or saying anything, and it was just as well.

Tristan was done.

“Come on, Les,” he said softly, holding the door open for his love.

Leslie: His head raised, looking at Tristan questioningly. Only one question: are you certain? To have come all this way, to have left the room for the majority of it, leaving Leslie to ask the questions he probably hadn't heard. Was there nothing else Tristan wanted?

Tristan: Tristan could only give him a nod and a defeated look. Sometime between slamming the door and making the walk back he’d realized that there was no point in trying to have a conversation with his father. It wouldn’t turn back time or undo what had been done.

Coming here was more about needing a face to blame than anything else. Having gotten that didn’t make him feel any better.

Leslie had probably known that all along.

“There’s nothing for us here. Let’s go.”

Leslie: There was nothing that he could say to make this man feel guilt. If he had harbored any, his conscience was clear with forty years of normalcy. Saying they would never think of him again, that they felt sorry for him, nothing would harm this man. Nothing but physical pain, and Leslie couldn't bring himself to do it. Not unless this man raised a hand to the one beside him.

Without another word, he turned away.

Tristan/Boone: They almost made it. They’d decided to leave, to walk away from this place and this situation.

But Boone just couldn’t resist a parting shot.

“So that’s it, huh? Came alllll this way, went through alllll the trouble of tracking your old man down, and now you’re just gonna leave? Lemme tell you something.”

Boone took a huge swig of tequila and staggered to his feet, swaying as he pointed the bottle at Tristan and Leslie.

“I did you a favor. I gave you forty years where you didn’t have to worry about a goddamn fuckin’ thing and now here you are throwing it in my face. Think you would’ve gotten that without me? Ha!”

Another swig. “You get to stand there now because I made you normal. You got a chance because I gave it to you and the second you realize that and decide to put a couple brats in some girl you’re gonna come dragging your ass back here, begging me for the spell I used on you and I’ll tell you right now, it’s going to cost you a hell of a lot more than fifteen gra—”

Tristan’s fist would cut off the rest of whatever Boone had to say.

Leslie: Nonsense said only in his presence. There was no sense bringing this up again. Nothing but malice. Leslie would do nothing to stop him. Perhaps he would regret Tristan's catharsis in an hour, but in the moment, he did nothing but remain still, and quiet, and wait for Boone to rub his jaw before taking a breath.

"He has two perfect daughters, and there'll be no begging. I promise you."

Tristan/Boone: He was too drunk to see it coming but he wouldn’t take it personally. He’d been expecting the swing from the get-go. They were even now.

“I don’t swing that way anyway,” Tristan muttered, taking Leslie’s hand and leading him away.

It took a second for Boone’s inebriated brain to catch what Tristan had said and once he did, he scoffed.

“So much for normal then, eh?” he called after them, cackling. “Can’t blame that one on me, sonny boy! That one’s all Meg!”

The mocking laughter would follow them until they got a good ways away from the shop, at which point they would be passed by a national guard truck heading the way they’d come from.

Leslie: It was now that Leslie felt shame. He hadn't expected Tristan to take his hand, to make any indication of their relationship beyond a pissed-off friend. Just another needle in Tristan's spine, another laugh.

He squeezed his boyfriend's hand.

Tristan: Tristan squeezed back. The reaction hadn’t surprised him.

Why wouldn’t his father be a homophobic asshole on top of everything else?

“You okay?”

Leslie: "Don't ever say that again. Don't ever act like you wish you were never born. I never want to hear that again."

Tristan: He stopped, turning to Leslie and feeling a moment's confusion until he remembered what he'd said to Boone and realized how it must have sounded.

Tristan took Leslie's other hand and brought both to his lips. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

Leslie: "I don't... want to talk about it here." He had brought it up, but he realized too late if they continued he'd shout, or fight tears.

Tristan: "Wanna go back to the hotel?"

Leslie: "Yes." All of this was for Tristan. There was nothing here he wanted.

Tristan: "Okay." He kissed Leslie's hands again and looked around for a taxi to hail.

They'd go back to the hotel, they'd talk, they'd have a nice meal later. Then, if Leslie wanted, they could go back home. They'd done what they'd come here to do.

[hinamie]

playing around w slightly different hair renders

[bunnieswithknives]

OH MY GOD??? HAS IT SERIOUSLY BEEN A MONTH????? I am so sorry guys

Prev | Next

[englishsub]

book rec by me

so you want to get back into reading books but have no idea where to start and disdain booktok (if you get me started on this however i will become an unskippable cutscene so that's for another day). understandable. there is so much out there and it is all so overwhelming and you don't even know what you like now that you've been a decade out of the game. again, understandable. it does not have to be scary. i will help you. below i have created some categories that can get you started.

i want to read Literature

literary fiction, with crossover from historical fiction and magical realism

PEACH BLOSSOM SPRING by melissa fu

THE VASTER WILDS by lauren groff

THE FAMILY CHAO by lan samantha chang

OUTER DARK by cormac mccarthy

SEVERANCE by ling ma

LIGHT FROM UNCOMMON STARS by ryka aoki

IDENTITTI by mithu m. sanyal

PIRANESI by susanna clarke

i want to read sci-fi/fantasy that won't break my brain

sci-fi and fantasy that is gentler on the brain cells. easier to grasp magic systems with multiple but not an overwhelming number of overlapping plotlines

EMILY WILDE'S ENCYCLOPAEDIA OF FAERIES by heather fawcett

KINGS OF THE WYLD by nicholas eames

THE JASMINE THRONE by tasha suri

THE CITY OF BRASS by s.a. chakraborty

A RIVER ENCHANTED by rebecca ross

JUNIPER AND THORN by ava reid

BLACK SUN by rebecca roanhorse

THE FINAL STRIFE by saara el-arifi

THE BONE SHARD DAUGHTER by andrea stewart

i want to read sci-fi/fantasy that forces me to lock the fuck in

i would not recommend picking these up as your first foray back into books after many years of not reading recreationally, but i'm not your mom.

THE SPEAR CUTS THROUGH WATER by simon jimenez

JADE CITY by fonda lee

THE FIFTH SEASON by n.k. jemisin

THE RAGE OF DRAGONS by evan winter

A MEMORY CALLED EMPIRE by arkady martine

GIDEON THE NINTH by tamsyn muir

THE ART OF PROPHECY by wesley chu

THE GRACE OF KINGS by ken liu

horrify me!

there is far more to the horror literary canon than stephen king and dean koontz, i promise. consider looking up warnings for these.

TENDER IS THE FLESH by agustina bazterrica

THE RUINS by scott smith

CONFESSIONS by kanae minato

EPISODE THIRTEEN by craig dilouie

REPRIEVE by james han mattson

MARY by nat cassidy

DEAD SILENCE by s.a. barnes

AUDITION by ryu murakami

THE SALT GROWS HEAVY by cassandra khaw

don't care, i want romance

some of these feature crossover genres, like fantasy and horror.

VAMPIRES OF EL NORTE by isabel cañas

DAUGHTER OF THE MOON GODDESS by sue lynn tan

SEVEN DAYS IN JUNE by tia williams

HAPPY PLACE by emily henry

ONE DARK WINDOW by rachel gillig

i want QUEER romance

again, a mix of historical, fantasy, and contemporary crossover genres.

WE COULD BE SO GOOD by cat sebastian

IN MEMORIAM by alice winn

MOST ARDENTLY by gabe cole novoa

A STRANGE AND STUBBORN ENDURANCE by foz meadows

A MARVELLOUS LIGHT by freya marske

THE EMPEROR AND THE ENDLESS PALACE by justinian huang

SPELL BOUND by f.t. lukens

SORRY, BRO by taleen voskuni

ONE LAST STOP by casey mcquiston

DELILAH GREEN DOESN'T CARE by ashley herring blake

i haven't felt anything since i read percy jackson/the hunger games in middle school/high school

adventure is still out there.

SCYTHE by neil shusterman

WE HUNT THE FLAME by hafsah faizal

SIX OF CROWS by leigh bardugo

GEARBREAKERS by zoe hana mikuta

i'll read anything that's not straight or white

many books in the above categories fit this, but here's even more, across a variety of genres.

LAST NIGHT AT THE TELEGRAPH CLUB by malinda lo

BABEL by r.f. kuang

WHEN THE RECKONING COMES by latanya mcqueen

THE UNBROKEN by c.l. clark

IF YOU'LL HAVE ME (graphic novel) by eunnie

LEGEND OF THE WHITE SNAKE by sher lee

THIS IS HOW YOU LOSE THE TIME WAR by amal el-mohtar and max gladstone

SHE WHO BECAME THE SUN by shelley parker-chan

"all ya books suck"

like any other genre or book age group, there are duds and there are standouts. ya is not special in this regard. try some of these!

DIVINE RIVALS by rebecca ross

STRIKE THE ZITHER by joan he

THE RED PALACE by june hur

A STUDY IN DROWNING by ava reid

EMPIRE OF SAND by tasha suri

LEGENDBORN by tracy deonn

i check out and read a lot of these books for free via my local library by using the libby app (you can even add your friends' library cards to gain access to libraries in places you don't live). when i'm feeling like reading via audiobook, i use libro fm!

look, no one HAS TO read diversely. no one is going to be reverse fahrenheit 451'd and locked in a room with no fanfic and only books and not let out until they work their way through the entire literary canon. but reading, and reading widely, and reading diversely, is what teaches people to form their own opinions and question the things they are told. it's why they hang up stuff like "READ READ READ!!" in grade school classrooms.

we live under systems that increasingly benefit from going unquestioned. no, of course reading ASSASSIN'S APPRENTICE by robin hobb is not going to dismantle these systems tomorrow, nor probably even in our lifetimes. but doing it will help set up a world capable of doing it in the future. and until further notice, we are all part of this wretched world. might as well read a good story while we're here.

anyway, i'm reading THE WEST PASSAGE by jared pechaček and the new cmq book this week.

[sforzesco]

I got. thoughts. about valens and voices in imperial roman history. but I also got a lot of thoughts about uhhhhhh choosing your brother for co ruling the Fratricide Foundation Story Empire. many thoughts about themistius' oration too

Brotherly Love, Themistius (trans. Peter Heather & David Moncur)

⭐ places I’m at! bsky / pixiv / pillowfort /cohost / cara.app / insta

[post-it-notes7]

On the bright side, now Mir Falspar can enjoy some semblance of peace and quiet (barring the indignant shouts of DMK in the background) before whatever is about to happen to him... happens.

and the clock ticks down, down, down

[beaulesbian]

I was once again thinking about this goofy Luffy moment after his Lucci punch™ and i had to see it frame by frame.

first the force of it throws them both away, and while Lucci is seen on screen tumbling for a long moment, Luffy is just away in a blink of an eye.

and then his funny scene - his legs are like jelly that he tries to get under control,

he stumbles, falls, rolls into a mix of all his limbs and eyes,

and then only the cloud behind him cushions his fall

- which would be interesting if he can subconsciously control that while he tries to regain the control over his movements - that the environment around him still adapts to his awakened Devil Fruit abilities and morphs to help him. Where others would probably fall through that cloud, for Luffy that cloud backs him up like a trampoline.

It's just fascinating!

[poppy-s-rampage]

Chapter 2: Welcome to Gotham!

Warnings: A little bit of blood, breakdown and emotional distress.

-------------------------------------

Chapter 1! | Masterpost | Chapter 3!

-------------------------------------

After finally closing up the last wound, Clockwork took a moment to look over his work. All of the young Halfa’s wounds have been sealed and treated with diluted ectoplasm. It was only enough to make the injuries look a week old at best but it will have to do.

The Ancient lifted his staff and in one swift movement ripped a hole in the fabric of reality. CW then carefully cradled Danny in his arms. Then both the Ancient and the Halfa stepped into the portal.

On the other side, they were met with an emaciated woman clad in a red and black Victorian dress accompanied by a small rose decorated matching hat. In her hand a small umbrella made of lace and what seemed to be black clouds. 

Her delicate snow white skin furrowed by ink black veins. Her blood red lips striking against the pallor of her face were pursed in worry. Her eyes, even while covered by her laced black veil, didn’t hide her apprehension.

The woman’s dress’s neckline was fashioned in the silhouette of a bat. Pearls scattered like falling stars across the red and black folds of the garment. Her waist encased in a tight bodice was embellished by small golden coins and feathers. The red fishtail spilling on the ground lazily trailing after its mistress.

The woman bowed her head, greeting the Ancient and his charge.

“Lord Clockwork.” Her raspy yet somehow suave voice resonated into the night.

“Lady Gotham.” He responded while slightly dipping his head down.

The city spirit glanced at the boy in the other’s arm. His bandaged form and torn clothes were not what first captured her attention. What truly horrified her was the state of the young Halfa’s core. Wrapped and cracked, barely a breath away from breaking and ceasing to exist.

Her own aching at the view, screaming at her to take the boy, wrap him in a bundle of blankets and nurse/guard him until at full health.

Being ended was reserved to the lowest of the low. It was a last resort that should only be used should the offender be irredeemable and too dangerous to be contained. To think that this almost happened and still could to her own king and one so young.

It was nauseating.

Lady Gotham forced herself to look away, turning her attention back to Clockwork.

“I assume he is the charge you want to bring into my care.”

“He is.” Clockwork responded.

The woman nodded, the smoke and black clouds in her umbrella spreading around her.

“Then if you will follow me.”

Lady Gotham faded and became one with the smog. The black mass zooming towards Midtown Gotham, the ancient of time on its heels.

They soon arrived in front of a small but clean apartment building. The two ghosts phased through the wall of the top floor only to be greeted by the view of a spacious yet cozy loft.

The unit was furnished with all the necessary furniture, non-ecto-contaminated food already stocked in the fridge. The space was designed in order to facilitate Daniel’s recovery. The boy would already be going through hell with his recovery and grief; it was best not to add insult to injury.

The city spirit having taken back physical form, leads Clockwork towards the bed on the second floor of the loft.

Once inside, the Ancient carefully sets Danny down on the bed and slowly covers him with a soft blanket. He then produced a pen and a neon green notepad from who knows where and started writing.

Lady Gotham approached the ghost.

“Lord ClockWork, pardon my intrusion, but wouldn’t it be best for you to explain the situation to the young king face to face.”

Clockwork paused.

“Young Daniel is too unstable to be dealing with the emotional distress my presence would bring. He has been hurt enough as it is.”

“Those excuses are nothing but the words of a coward.”

“Pardon me?”

“You are not. Are you truly running away in order to protect the boy or are you doing so to save yourself?”

“…”

“Tell me, Lord Clockwork. When the young king awakens, would he prefer to be met with an insincere apology letter from a coward or the genuine words of a man admitting to his mistakes?”

Clockwork couldn’t even utter a word.He didn’t have any excuse to defend himself. The city spirit was right.

“Your words are as sharp as ever, old friend.”

“I speak nothing but the truth, Master of Time. However, it seems to me that you are already set on your decision.”

“I-”

“I hope in your interest that you made the right choice.” The Lady snapped.

The woman turned away but not without leaving a few departing words.

“Or that at least you are prepared to face the consequences.”

Lady Gotham disappeared in a whirlwind of smog.

Clock work turned back to Daniel watching as his face scrunched up when the old ghost brushed a strand of hair away from his face.

His old core flared with parental love.

He looked so peaceful, as if nothing ever went wrong. However, In just a few hours, he would wake up and reality would come crashing down.

His bright and joyous protegee. The one he couldn’t help but adore every version of. The one he subconsciously adopted as his own child.

Clockwork couldn’t. He just couldn’t bring himself to face the hatred and pain his pupil would inevitably direct at him.

Gotham was right.

The Master of Time set down the notepad on the night table

He was a coward.

—-------

*A few hours later*

As the first few rays of sunshine broke through Gotham’s thick smog, a young black and white haired boy slowly woke up from his slumber.

It was comfortable, the soft fluffy blanket brushing against his achy skin. The warmth that comes with being cocooned in the safety of your own bed. Danny didn’t want to open his eyes. But he needed to wake up, in just a few moments Jazz would come knocking at his door to drag him to school.

The soft familiar knock never came, but the memories sure did.

Danny snapped his eyes open. Tears threatening to fall.

Clockwork -LiaR- ,the reveal, the capture -BeTraYaL-, the experiments -PaIN-, Jazz, Sam, Tucker,-PAINPAINPAIN mY FauLT- the wails, blood, explosion, death -MurDEreR!-, pain, Core breaking, burning, melting- PAIN PAIN PAIN! I ShOuLD be DeAD!-.

The Halfa now fully awake kicked the blanket enveloping him away and tried to get out of the bed.

His legs still injured and unable to support his weight gave out and he collapsed on the wooden floor in a heap.

The sharp pain of jolting his injuries and face planting further cemented to Danny that he wasn’t dreaming and that the nightmare was fully real.

“...no…NONONONONONO! Please, no! Please! I BEG YOU! PLEASE! JAZZ, TUCK, SAM PLEASE! DONT BE REAL! PLEASE!” Danny tried to say, but the only thing that came out were erratic breaths that could vaguely be associated with words. His damaged throat made it impossible to even breathe without it flaring in pain.

Choked and pained sobs filled the once silent room.

The young Halfa still collapsed on the floor cried , slowly curling up on himself hugging his knees.

---------------------

Chapter 1! | Masterpost | Chapter 3!

----------------------

See you next time!

[randomnameless]

Why do we still have in 2024 stupid takes like Rhea created and enforces the crest system?

Bcs Rhea BaD anon.

More seriously,

FE Fodlan is one of one of the most divorced FE verses from its fantasy elements (see : Nabateans being as important as Ignatz's leather shoes) : Tellius has the Laguz existing, Archanea/Ylisse has manaketes hanging around and being a core point in FE Archanea, Elibe has its entire history involving dragons and the best ending finally be about acceptance between the two races, Magvel has zombies, Valentia has terrors and in SoV we have dragons and magic dragon blood, Fates has dragons (and laguz-like!) and even Jugdral have people with magic dragon blood.

(i ranted and ranted and ranted under the cut, so it's a bit long)

Unlike Fodlan, Jugdral's "people with magic dragon blood" are a key element to the story told at large, and it bleeds through the mechanics used to tell that story. FE4 wise, toddler!Seliph has a S rank in swords when Beowulf, even if he trains his entire life, will never achieve A rank in swords. Base!Julia with her holy weapon can smack Loptyr, when max!invested (at least lore wise) Forseti!Ced will never be able to kill him.

It's unfair for Beo and Ced, but that is how the verse works because, in that verse, some people are mc guffins or "the only ones" who are able to do something, or even, straight out, stronger/have more talent than others.

In traditional fantasy settings we have the "same" sort of rules, you have elves who do X and Y, humans won't can't, dwarves who can't either but they can do W, orc who can do J, etc etc.

Even for all of the "deconstruction of the genre!" gimmick ASOIAF has, according to some people, Dany is fire-proof and Jon most likely survives after being assassinated because he is a Stark and can use his doggo as a back up save, both things Edmure Tully will never be able to achieve.

Tolkien has Numenoreans being straight up blessed by the Valar/stronger/longer lived/etc etc than middle-earth humans, on top of also having elves, dwarves and ents.

Ergo : power inbalance is baked in the fantasy genre.

And yet, the writers often manage to tell some version of "the ones who have less power are no less important", like with Tolkien, it's a bunch of hobbits who manage to take down the greatest "evil" of their era, or some message like "having more power/being more important means you are bound to help the ones who have none" thingie.

In Fodlan, the "beings who have more power" than humans are the Nabateans (+ Sothis herself!). Sothis can create life, her daughter - through unknown means - can create artifical beings, one her children can control weather (the one who was turned in a milkshake for Charon!), one of them has monstruous strength (the one turned in a milkshake for Blaiddyd), one of them could communicate with animals (Timotheos iirc - if we assume he was a Nabatean or got his powers from his crest), her granddaughter can set up an AOE to heal what would otherwise be fatal wounds (it's heavily implied this is what Flayn did when she overused her power and went comatose) etc etc.

This is the original power inbalance in Fodlan.

Then some humans "stole" this power from Nabateans, and got a share of it themselves, which is what is later called "crest" : aka, some humans got a part of the super/magic powers that Nabateans originally had and thus, because, for all intents and purposes, "super-humans".

Now, Fodlan discourse started with FE16 being released in 2019, not that long after GoT's ending - which was trash - and in an era where fandom turned from "harmless fun" to "something that looks like activism and earns you point if you manage to use it to express your real life opinions".

In 2019, after Dumb and Dumber tanked GoT and removed most of ASOIAF fantasy parts to deliver "sex that sells" with a moldy plot, some part of the fandom started to conflate and harass people over what they like, and how it, apparently, reflected on their real life opinions ("if you hate this female character it means you hate women!"/"if you think X becoming king is a good ending, you don't value democracy!").

So, we have this fantasy setting with its inherent power inbalance... that quickly became something that is/was unacceptable, because IRL, power inbalance is based on bullshit and something everyone decries - so if your beloved media reflects on what you like IRL, you can't like a setting with an objective power inbalance, even if is justified by magic which doesn't exist irl like shooting eyebeams or some people being more "special than others" who can live up to 1500 years old.

Fodlan's power inbalance, for some parts of the fandom 2019, cannot be justified by traditional fantasy settings so, those settings/fantasy elements are straight out ignored.

Thus the "crests"' magic effects/powers are ignored, and dumbed down to, roughly, what a middle school student would think "nobility" is/was in the Middle Ages/Renaissance.

Jean-François Marie Pierre de Bourbon isn't inherently better at smashing things with a sword than Bob, or at healing than Roger, any "advantage" Jean-François Marie Pierre de Bourbon has over them is, maybe, that he started training earlier.

In Fodlan?

If Jean-François Marie Pierre de Charon has a major Charon crest, he can dance and clap in his hands to summon rain. Bob and Roger, no matter how hard they train, will never be able to do that. Jean-François Marie Pierre de Charon will thus be seen as having higher "value" or being straight up "better" than Bob or Roger, because as long as he is here, your crops will never suffer from drought.

But... we can't have that, because if you confuse fandom and real life opinions and aspirations, you cannot admit that some people in Fodlan are inherently "better" at something, only because of their blood, otherwise, what would it translate to IRL?

This is why, imo, part of the fandom (and the game sure doesn't help! Fodlan is no Jugdral and its gameplay lacks coherence regarding the in-game lore! Remember how Raphael can use a relic and only loses 10HP, when Miklan, plot wise, was turned in a demonic beast?) that loves this take, arguably, reduces crests to a title and family name.

Why should the Bourbon family rule over us, when they're no better than Roger or Bob? Isn't it unfair the Bourbons are still valued nowadays when the only thing to their fame is their name, and not what they are actually doing?

The game plays coy about crests - we know each of them has a specific power - but it never reveals what are those powers (lore wise!) save for 2 of them. So are crests superpowers, or just a family name with a particle, or both? Is the "system" (a friend made a post debunking any idea of "systemic" application of this notion in the three countries) based on bullshit, or on, objective superpowers?

Dimitri tries to tackle the issue, but only around relic usage : the Gautiers are valued if they have a crest because they can use their superweapon to protect the border. But what about valuing House Charon's ability to bring rain and guarantee good harvests? What is the other superpower tied to the crest of Gautier that isn't "use a femur and wreck havoc with it"?

If Marianne's ability to talk to animals is tied to her crest, why isn't it more developed? Instead of having useless shit like talking and befriending horses like a Disney princess, we could have Maurice-blooded people be masters of counter-intelligence, imagine if they can talk to birds/rodents and ask them to scout various areas or spy/ask them what they saw ! Hell, we could have had a situation where in a fog of war map, where Marianne, if, idk, through Billy fed enough animals in the monastery, would have a better field of vision than anyone else, with some blurb/one-line about her relying on the animals around to know and see what is going on! Alas, it wasn't meant to be.

FE16 eludes the question, because the character who "questions" a world centered around "crests" is the marketable asset of the game, and cannot be challenged in any meaningful capacity v- she feels it's unfair that her crest seemingly dictate her life, and only in the gacha game with ery serious writing like the Heavy Plate Corps or Sniddies, does she get a modicum of self-reflection - or at least someone challenging her - where she is told that she could use the superpowers she has to help people instead of blaming the world for getting one.

In a traditional FE setting, where some Lords question why they were born with power/or are in powerful positions, the answer is always that no matter what they were born with (or without in Leif's case!) what is more important is what they decide to do with that power. Elincia never wanted to become Queen? She will still fight and protect Crimea and its people. Marth is the last hope of Altea, even if it means leaving Elice behind. Seliph doesn't want to fight in Thracia anymore or feels like he's a fraud? He can turn tail and return home, while the world around him falls apart. Leif also feels like a fraud because he doesn't have superpowers like his cousin? Does that mean he should turn his thumbs and watch as his people are being caught/enslaved/sacrificed?

In Fodlan you have no reflection like this : Linhardt is, imo, the best example.

Dude hates blood and has a crest (aka magic powers) geared towards healing, you could make a case that for someone who has hematophobia, being a healer is difficult and this would be the reason why he refuses to heal/use his powers to help people around him... but no. Lin's laziness is played for laughs, and his refusal to do anything not related to his topic of interest is never questioned/analysed under the angle of, say, a head nurse who has no crest and laments that she couldn't save everyone who was hurt during an assault, who snaps at him for having the "gift" he has and not using it for the sake of people around him.

"What Lin decides to do with his power?" : Well, nothing.

Instead we have a reflection on his bright mind going to waste if he lazes all day long, culminating in his Supreme support where an Imperial facility is created specifically to cater to his tastes, that will enable him to research crests as much as he wants...

But still, nothing about his innate "healing" power!

In the end, it's no surprise that part of the fandom latched on that "crest = nobility title" because the Fodlan verse refuses to develop anything about its fantasy elements (hell, iirc Nopes swaps "crests" for "blood" and "titles" in its Supreme route ?).

"Sure, but where does Rhea fit in this nonsense?"

Rhea is, in this vision, the ultimate target !

For all of the "I ignore fantasy elements", Rhea is always (in FE16 at least!) turning into a dragon : no matter how hard you want to ignore fantasy, she's here to remind you tht, in this verse, dragons exist.

But most importantly, as Fodlan must be analysed through an IRL lens otherwise modern fandom cannot engage with it, Rhea, by virtue of being the lady in charge of a religious organisation called "Church", is also seen through a lens : Rhea BaD bcs Religion BaD and Catholic Church BaD.

FWIW, thanks to the five years of discourse we had, I learnt more about cultural values and differences existings between, here and the rest of the world - especially a place that is overepresented on fandom spaces - on organised religions especially the catholic church. Of course this bled on fandom takes and analysis, which projected some users' irl bias against the Catholic Church on the fandom organisation and entity that is the Church of Seiros. Combine this with secularism being now weaponised and used to ridicule people in spaces like r/atheism and you have a perfect recipe for "Religion BaD = Catholic Church BaD = fictional organised religion with a catholic flair BaD".

Granted, given how a certain loLcalisation team also originates from this place, it's no surprise that some "creative liberties" they took tried to hammer even more, let it be in the script or the fucking "what is this game about?" page on their website, how this fictional organisation is basically a squenix trope of "evil cult manipulating everything in the shadows and sekritly controlling the world".

Besides, the main heroine of the game (even if that comes with a twist!) opposes this faction (CoS and especially its leader!) and, by the way those games are built, as seen earlier, they cannot disavow her too much, else the entire gut-punch the devs were gunning for (you are betrayed by your beloved character! But unlike what happens in Baten Kaitos, you only are attached to her because she is your avatar's simp) will fall apart. So she must be, somehow, right and not motivated by more personal and heinous reasons, like not accepting "non-humans" to have powers over humans, or thinking the world is not a place for them (this was carefully scrubbed out in Nopes, btw!).

If Supreme Leader, who we are supposed to root for and whom the game ultimately rewards because "reforms" happen in the endings, says that the CoS is the reason why humans value superpowers, she must be right, or at least, not completely wrong???

Which raises the final point on this topic : FE16 came in 2019, which was election year in the US, and we all know that election time in the US means the rest of the world is also affected, even if the rest of the world, well, isn't the US. As I mentionned, the US is over-represented in fandom spaces, and fandom is far from being a safehaven from all the mayhem and passion that always boil during election time and its immediate following.

Coupled with the "my fandom faves define my real life opinions" thingie I already wrote about, and we had an explosive cocktail for bad takes, needless aggressivity, ridiculing people with dissident opinions because they are seen as "wrong", etc etc. And let it be something trendy or not, especially when (young?) people are arguing about "politics" in online spaces, but it always boils down to gross simplification of various complex issues and/or using catchphrases or "shock-value" words to win over whoever is reading/listening.

(et je ne dis pas ça parce que certains de nos politiques font des "immigrés clandestins ou pas" la source de tous les maux, ou le fait que nos députés font la même chose en ce moment, Jonluk et Marine main dans la main, pour paralyser l'Etat afin de pousser Manu à la démission et éviter la case prison pour Marine)

I always thought the "CEO of racism" was a meme, but through Fodlan discourse, I started to wonder if it was something started seriously by someone who really thought that "racism" is caused by one person.

And we finally get to the point : somehow, somewhat, Rhea is supposed to be responsible for people/humans valuing superpowers.

Forget that the same "quest to obtain those superpowers" led to the extermination of her kin, or how the devs themselves explained that people - at least in their setting - always want more power :

As a result, what would happen to humans who gained power... they would want even more power, and find a dragon much stronger to beat in order to collect materials forcefully, in order to make even more powerful weapons... and so that was the cycle that was born. And that was the birth of Fodlan's Ten Elites

Wait, kill that, those superpowers don't exist since the game and the characters (bar Catherine, but I agree with @9thwither here, Cat is one of the most overlooked characters in this fandom!) never talk about them, so they don't exist...

Rhea is thus the reason why people value bloodlines - especially since those bloodlines don't come out with superpowers.

It sounds better and closer to what you could "hear" irl, from someone who's discoursing on the internet to explain "why" some people are more valued than other, it's because of religion and the Pope! It cannot be because of, well, human greed or just the need to have more power (for good or wrong reasons), no.

"But random, the Church most likely promotes a "divine right to rule" doctrine and let the 10 Elites' families rule over their clans in Faerghus thus gain nobility!"

Sure, but everything is moot if you consider this : to make this take viable, we ignore the game and consider that crests are just bloodlines, and not, objective sources of superpowers.

So why are we, discussing about this hypothesis/theory, even arguing about what the game says and/or does?

Bob Blaiddyd can kill a giant lion/wolf with his fists at base level, is it because of a supposed doctrine that people rally and want to be in Bob's graces, or because Bob has the power to protect them all? Karen Charon can summon rain, are people siding with her because Rhea told them to, or because Karen can make crops grow?

In conclusion : why people are still, in 2024, sprouting those takes?

1- Because they refuse to engage with the game and realise that it is a fantasy game belonging to a very specific genre

2- Because fandom opinions reflect on your real life opinions and likes : so they must find a reason to oppose what their perceive as an unacceptable power inbalance otherwise it means that they support the various inequalities that exist IRL

3- Because Religion BaD and bar the "projected takes from transposing feelings about an IRL church on a fantasy one" more and more people tend to prefer an "easy to proceed" solution than think about multi-causal issues and find solutions that might not.

Of course, I can already guess that some people might argue that they don't "refuse to engage with the game" since this take is more a less a condensed version of the Supreme spiel, and as developed above, the game does - willingly - a shit job at demonstrating that her spiel is nonsense (they had to add the "greed" part in an interview released after the game and its only and final DLC!), just like her sockpuppet who supposedly learns how misguided he was in certain routes... only to end with the same ice cream, albeit with a different topping.

However, Dimitri and Sylvain mention how crestless children are disowned in Faerghus... when Dimitri's own uncle is ruling over a domain himself, Ingrid's brothers exist in the background and Gustave is still Baron Dominic's brother, on top of having been the royal master at arms for at least, depending on the route, 3 generations of Faerghan kings.

In a game where Dorothea can blame the Goddess for fighting in a war her bestie started - without anyone pointing this out - it's obvious this verse has unreliable narrators, but after 5 years and having played all routes in both games + a DLC + a dev interview explaining how and why some humans acquired crests...

Tl;Dr :

Reason 1- is most likely the most prevalent why this take exists anon, "because some people refuse to engage with the game" with the added topping of "save for what Supreme Leader and her sockpuppet say that I can use to demonise the characters I don't like".

[ridl]

waiting for ganyu banner in 2022 vs waiting for keqing banner in 2025(?)

[arttsuka]

Ok here are my thoughts about arcane season 2, buckle up

I wana say, I liked the second season, less about what we saw, more about the story they wanted to tell.

It started fine but as soon as episode 4 came the problem was clear. The pacing was bad. Everything was happening too fast, there was no time for smaller moments. A lot of character development was off screen too.

I've heard they were supposed to have more seasons but decided last minute to cut the show short because 'there are more stories to be told'.

Caitlyn had most of her arc off screen which is such a shame, I really wanted to see how she realized she was being manipulated, I wanted to see her dictatorship era. But we got none of that, it's implied it happened but we didn't get to see it.

Sevika was relevant up until ep4 and then we see her again in ep8. I don't think she has any speaking lines after ep4. Such a waste of her character, she was really interesting.

Isha. She came to the series as suddenly as she left. I have a lot of problems with her character, one of them being that she wasn't introduced organically. She randomly fell on Jinx (by accident). Arcane relies way too much on 'right place right time', on coincidences so, when that can be avoided, it definitely should. Make her fall on top of the first person that passed through on purpose so she won't get hurt (that person being Jinx is the only coincidence here). Her sacrifice felt a bit unearned because we didn't get to see her a lot, and after ep6, they never speak of her again (it affected Jinx sure but they don't even mention her once).

Mel. They did her dirty this season. They speedruned her arc (and the whole thing felt so out of place). I've heard that maybe the next show was going to be focused on Noxus etc which, if it turns out to be true, would be a bad decision. If they are actually planning on making something about Noxus, I'd at least expect Ambessa to be there and also, it would be a great opportunity to learn about Mel and her powers in greater detail instead of whatever we got.

Viktor as the herald, ultimate life form or whatever was so short lived. Make you wonder why they decided to include it only in the last episode instead of implementing a bit earlier.

Vi was also so, useless this season. She did almost nothing. She was a punching bag for the most of it.

Jinx felt a bit ooc, less about what she was doing and more about how there wasn't any time to see her get over Silco's death. Silco had such a negative effect on her mental health (all these hallucinations from s01) but he dies and boom, mentally stable? I would have liked to see her become healthier (it would also tie nicely with getting to know Isha better).

Vander. They brought him back. It was actually foreshadowed in the first season. Him being back is not my problem, on the contrary I think it was a great way to naturally bring Vi and Jinx back together. My problem was how we see him for 2 episodes (and then he 'dies'). It felt like a waste of time honestly, time that could have been used to see something else.

Episode 6 has to be the worst episode of the whole show. The pacing is pretty bad. The events that take place in it feel like 3 episodes, not 1. We get not 1 but 2 different artstyle montages, making the episode look, weird...

The best episodes were probably ep03 and ep07. Both had nice pacing (especially ep07, it felt like it was straight out of s01) and the story explored in them was pretty captivating. But I do have a problem with ep07. It's where Ekko got his 'time powers' from and honestly, they were pretty underwhelming? Also not at all well implemented to the story. We literally see him use them 3 times. 1: when he finds out about them, 2: when he saves Jinx and 3: when he goes back to try not to get captured by Viktor's mannequins. The last 2 on the same episode. That 4-second-limit was never really relevant (at least I don't think it's was). They wasted an entire episode giving him powers only for him to never really use them and for the machine to act as a bomb.

Also I didn't like the dancing scene with Powder and Ekko. I understand the vision behind it but I felt like my TV was dropping frames. It felt choppy, cheap (such a shame for a beautiful scene).

Now, I liked the lesbian sex scene in ep8, I really did, but it felt so out of place. Jinx basically implied she was going to kill herself, Vi was on the verge of tears because she was insecure about how she seemed to only make the wrong choices and then, that scene happens. It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. I've seen people compare it to the s01 'Jayce/Mel vs Viktor dying' scene and while I understand where the comparison is coming from it's definitely not the same. In that scene, Jayce didn't know Viktor was dying (he knew about his deteriorating health, but he was clearly shocked and left Mel to go check out on him etc etc).

Also, Caitlyn should have gone down on Vi. I think they image would have been stronger. Vi was at the bottom of the barrel her entire life (literal plot point, being from the undercity etc) so seeing Caitlyn, someone of higher status and power, being the one to 'bow' would just be more powerful. Just a thought.

I just feel like I liked their relationship and dynamics more in s01. They had more casual moments, more natural dialogue. Yes we won but at what cost? Their relationship was so sweet in s01. In s02 it started sweet, turned out to be manipulative on Caitlyns side*, they break up and then they're fine again.

*in ep3 it's clearly shown that while Caitlyn loves Vi she's willing to manipulate her to reach her own goals. That first kiss we see was definitely more of a 'I'm gonna play with your emotions so you don't doubt me' rather than 'let's just kiss now'.

I liked how Jinx cut her hair. The whole 'hair holds memories' and how she was ready to move on. Too sad that scene didn't have the proper gravity it deserved because the lesbian sex was happening (probably) the same time.

Ep9 was, something. I'm conflicted about it. On one hand I really liked how they tied up Viktor's and Jayce's plot lines, on the other hand everything else was so rushed. Caitlyn and Mel were a team (they didn't feel like one honestly), they fought Ambessa and then she randomly died from the black rose. It felt like they just wanted an excuse to kill her. 'She needed to die so Mel could become the wolf' no, not really. She could still be alive, have Mel 'spare her life' or something. It would be more on track with Mel's ideals that way.

Jinx sacrificing herself to save Vi was also so forced**. It felt specifically written so she could 'die'. I do believe that 'Jinx is alive' theory because Caitlyn looking at the vents while holding that monkey head Jinx's bomb had + that air balloon Powder said she'd fly away with are all too specific to be coincidences.

**her sacrifice was forced but foreshadowed. Isha was acting as an 'archetype' of what Jinx had to become. Her whole existence in the show was so Jinx could become an icon for Zauns revolution and for her to sacrifice herself so Jinx could see and do the same, break the cycle.

What really bothered me was how Jayce and Viktor seemed to be the only characters who had a complete story, everyone else had a lot missing scenes (they did too but way less, there never was a point where I thought 'where does this come from?', everythingwas explained about them. I wish I could say the same about the 'arcane', magic). It's so unfair, on the female lead show about 2 sisters for the male characters to be the final focus. Also another thing that bothered me how they did a seemingly better job at writing Ekko/Powder, the straight ship we got to see for 1 episode on a different timeline, rather that Vi/Caitlyn, the lesbian ship AND main focus since they're both main characters from the timeline were following.

Something else, I feel like the score for s01 was better/more memorable than s02. Sure s02 has some pretty good songs but s01 felt more diverse on that? Maybe that's just me.

Kinda lazy how they used the same song for the opening credits while using visuals way too similar (if not the same) to the artstyle of the show. Although, truth to be told, the s01 opening was way too good for any standards, it would be very hard if not impossible to make something better. Still, I feel like they could have done a better job.

Also maybe that's just me but there were a lot of predicable moments. Sometimes a scene would start playing and I'd know exactly where it was going (something I can't say for season 1).

I really liked in s01 how in each episode, before the opening, we got to see some glimpses from the past of each character. It was a great way not to have too many random flashbacks and include these scenes organically in each episode. In season 2 we don't get that. I understand that we already know these characters but it's still something I adored from s01.

What made s01 so appealing was how they handled the story, didn't rush things. How they took their time to make us understand and like the characters. With s02 we didn't get that luxury.

Season 1 was a masterpiece and unfortunately, season 2 didn't meet the expectations.

I still enjoyed watching it but it was definitely not as good as the experience of watching s01.

[sarafangirlart]

Going through the Internet Archive (god knows how long it will stay with us) and found another cool adaptation of Perseus by Corinne J. Naden and Robert Baxter

This book has such a cool artstyle

Adorable family moment with Dictys

[rosie-tyler]

Siiighhhhhhhhhh

[lunar-solarsystem]

Favors For Favors - Lose Clarity AU

[ Point in time - Ruin’s been chucked into a dead dimension… again. Left with his thoughts and depleting battery power… again. Incidents with Moon Nexus have already occured. Molten had found Ruin again, his programming still unfixed. He threw Ruin back where he had been before in the same dead dimension. ] ——————————

…Silence. That’s all there was. That is, unless Ruin sung a song to himself again. Nothing to do, nothing to see, nowhere to go. Ruin was stuck. Again. In the same dead dimension for that matter…..

One of the worse parts, he knew he wouldn’t be able to tell Puzzle anything. Explaining things last time was bad enough - having to explain why he was gone for weeks and left Puzzle alone. He, of course, had told Puzzle about his plan for ‘The Collapse’ and needing to get rid of the Creator Council; and the side effect in which Solar had to die. He told Puzzle not to say anything, which they did wonderfully. Being of Ruin’s code, it was easy to understand them and easy for them to learn things. They were already a decent actor and liar when needing to be; Ruin was still the main problem for things and would be encountered with more often. Puzzle was never really in the need to act or lie, but they would if needed. They knew how to hide, too; stay hidden if unwanted guests found where they and Ruin hid. Puzzle understood the extent in which Ruin had to go for ‘The Collapse’ to happen, however they were a bit gloomy for a few days afterwards - specifically from the outcomes, feeling as if they could’ve done something that didn’t have to be so drastic; Ruin still knew there wasn’t any other option. Puzzle would come to visit Ruin every so often when he was stuck stationary in Parts & Service, careful to not be seen by anyone else aside from their father figure. As much as he loathed asking the favor, he asked Eclipse to watch over Puzzle one day just as Eclipse was about to leave, right after walking in and yelling at Ruin and whatnot. Eclipse seemed as if he didn’t care at the time, yet Ruin saw them getting closer once he came back after returning from this dead dimension the FIRST time. Eclipse still denied it, just as he does with Earth, but Ruin believed Eclipse grew a soft spot for Puzzle. Yet of course, Eclipse being Eclipse, would never and will never admit so.

All Ruin could really think about now, as his battery slowly draining, was about the time variation between this dead dimension and the other dimension - Was he gone for weeks already? Months? Hell, a year?? He had no idea. He didn’t bother to TRY and keep track of time. At this point, he only hoped Eclipse stayed again. Sure, he and Ruin hated each other; that is something that’d never change. But Ruin could only hope Eclipse would stay with and watch over the one thing Ruin couldn’t bare to lose. The one he saw as his own, the one he cared for..

Ruin didn’t notice a sound near him, nor faint footsteps. No; not until someone spoke.

-

“Hello again, Ruin.”

Ruin looked up from the ‘floor’ of the vast void, meeting Dark Sun’s gaze. 

“…Dark..Sun?.. Wait, why are you here exactly? I thought you did not need me anymore, as you said it the last time.”

Dark Sun hummed. 

“Hm… Well, it appears I do in fact need you again. My.. ‘business partner’ wants something from you. He asked me to come and get it if you were not already dead, as he finds himself.. ‘busy’, I guess would be the word.”

“And what exactly is this thing you need from me..?”

“That would be your virus. Or its code. Whichever it is.”

Ruin looked taken back for a moment.

“M-…. My virus..? Why would your partne-“

“I’d rather not explain. He didn’t exactly explain everything to me, anyway. He claimed his curiosity still revolves around your code and wanted me to do him a favor.”

Ruin scoffed a bit. 

“It won’t do you any good. It’s never worked on me.”

“I know you’re lying, Ruin. You should know I have my ways of knowing things, and that’s one thing I know is a lie. It’s been acting as a killcode like most Moon’s would have… Now hasn’t it?”

Ruin fell silent. What was he supposed to say? He knew it was true. The cure never worked properly on him - Puzzle had been constructed instead. His virus… It was still working.. since he left his dimension. He knew it too. He’d snapped a few times, at least twice in front of, or at, Eclipse; and others as well. Thankfully, he never snapped around Puzzle. Not fully, anyway. There’s been times he’s been close...

“Hm. I thought so.”

“What do you even want with it..? I’m afraid it may not, or won’t, do you any good.”

“I said my new colleague wanted it. I’m only doing him a favor.”

There was a silent moment between the two before Dark Sun sighed low, taking a small step forward and speaking once more.

“Why not this then, Ruin? A favor for a favor.”

Ruin turned his head slightly towards Dark Sun, reserved with his words as he listened to Dark Sun’s proposal.

“Now; you allow me to take your virus, and I’ll help you get back home. And perhaps get you fixed up as well.”

Ruin stayed mute for moments at a time… Long moments, actually. Looking down at his own hands, they slowly broke away. Disintegrating and disappearing gradually, in some strange way. Hell, his entire body was doing that. He thought himself lucky his important systems hadn’t started doing that yet. He thought for a moment…. he supposed this deal wouldn’t be too bad if he took it… right?

Dark Sun heard Ruin sigh, watching as he made himself stand. Grunting now and then from pain picked up by his pain receptors, Ruin turned to face Dark Sun.

“Alright… I’ll agree to this.. ‘favor’ you need me for. As long as you don’t need me again.”

He seemed irritable, which could be the virus affecting his mentality again. Dark Sun didn’t question it, opening a portal.

“Hm. Believe me Ruin, I plan to stay far away from your dimension after this. It doesn’t have much use to me, the dimension itself nor the people living in it. I can nearly guarantee this is the last time you and I meet. Come on, now.”

Both of them stepped through the portal Dark Sun made then and there, the opening disappearing behind them. Ruin, now leaving the dead dimension behind once again, hoping it’d be the last time he’d do so - and hoping it’d be the last time he’d leave unintentionally. He hoped…

yet it won’t be the last.

.

.

Later…

Dark Sun returned to his and Moon’s Nexus’s place in the pocket dimension after assisting Ruin and taking his virus code. Before Ruin departed, he thanked Dark Sun. It seemed unusual, but it was fine…. Dark Sun supposed, anyway. Yet “Dark Sun”… Heh, he still hated that little ‘nickname’.

Everything around ‘Sun’ was silent, aside from his steps while he walked towards Nexus’s laboratory. He listened as the sounds of Nexus rummaging around his lab and testing his developing newfound power on different objects became louder the more ‘Sun’ got closer. He walked in, standing in the doorway and watching Nexus. Nexus didn’t notice ‘Sun’ immediately, being distracted by his own means. It took a moment to notice.

“Tch. Stupid- Ugh, okay whatever. I’ll jus- ..! Oh, you’re back already. Hm. Did you get what I asked?.”

“Yes; I did, as a matter of fact. I don’t really know what you expect to get out of it, but whatever. Not really much of my business nor do I care too much. Here.”

‘Sun’ gave Nexus what he collected before heading back towards the door. Nexus appeared pleased.

“I’m going to tend to my own matters. Do whatever you wish, Moon. Just don’t destroy the pocket dimension, if you can manage that.”

“NEXUS.”

“…Right. Nexus…”

He left without much care for referring to Nexus by his previous incorrect name, leaving Nexus in his lab once again. Nexus smirked, turning to a small containment unit he made previously and placed the small trinket containing Ruin’s virus code inside. Scanning it, he gathered its data. He could see history on it as well. Not its literal history, however enough to understand where it’s been. Although barely used, it had… potential. Corruptive potential. Unusual, but strangely attention grabbing to Nexus. Hm… 

Studying this should be interesting.

[sttoru]

when i finish studying for this last exam… im gonna release some trueform!sukuna angst 😝

[butchtifalockhart]

“wow, cloud and tifa have such a fascinating dynamic! trauma-bonding as the sole survivors of a horrific massacre while also not having actually seen each other in years is such a cool way to explore trauma and growth! i wonder what people are saying about them online! :D”

what people are saying about them online, every time, without fail: