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livvywrites · 4 years ago

Photo

[ ID: the image depicts a knights helm with a pointed face looking to the right. it’s been edited to look like an oil painting, and overlaid with a pale grey-green color. over the image is written ‘a conspicuous lack of dragons’ in a script front, and beneath that, ‘livvy moore’ in a serif font. /end ID. ]

i posted an excerpt of this with the placeholder title “the perils of taking quests from little old ladies who live in the woods.” i’m still rather fond of that title, but it’s a little too long xD

this was written mostly as an exercise to kind of... shake the mental cobwebs off, after seeing a post about accessibility + princesses in towers. i really liked how it came out, so i decided to polish it up and post it :D i meant to have it up sooner, but... life :p

you can also read this on my website :)

a conspicuous lack of dragons

The tower is exactly as the old woman described. White brick, with a deep purple roof, standing on a mountain at the edge of a prosperous kingdom. Only a few windows adorn the top of the tower. The rest is bare, and unadorned. You are… a little relieved. The old woman had said that this tower belonged to a dragon. You weren’t particularly looking forward to fighting it—and though you’re sure you still might have to, at least you have time for a little more reconnaissance.

Save for the base, where there is a plain wooden door.

You… cannot say you were expecting that. You swing off of your mare, and stow your more important belongings with her, keeping with you only your sword, shield, and medicine kit. You examine the door carefully, and find that—at least from this side—it is as plain as it appears.

You open the door, and step inside.

The base of the tower is rather bare. There are a few crates and boxes, covered in a layer of dust and cobwebs. There is a conspicuous lack of traps. You frown, step further in, and wait for the door to slam behind you.

It does not.

Suspicions piqued, you start up the twisting and winding ramp (not stairs!) that lead to the top. You draw your sword as you do, ready to strike if anything—or anyone—pops out at you.

Nothing does.

There are still no traps; no guards; and no hints of magic. The most arduous thing about it is the trip to the top. Another plain, wooden door is there; though it has been painted a pale lilac. There is a small peephole near the top.

You see no strange mechanisms. No glowing runes. No door knockers with faces, ready to entice you into a battle of riddles.

Your frown only deepens. You push the door open, fully expecting to be greeted by the most heinous monster you’ve ever faced.

Instead, you find a young woman. You can only presume that this is the princess. She is seated on a plush couch, reading a rather thick book. She looks up at the creak of the door, and gives you a brief once over.

One brow raised, she asks, “Well? What are you doing here?”

“I’m… here to rescue you?” you say, but it comes out as more of a question. You feel dumb. Also numb. Off-balance. You aren’t sure what’s going on at all. Nothing here is what you expected it to be, and you’re not sure how to take that at all.

“Oh,” the princess says. She looks disinterested again. “Mm. Thank you, but no thank you. I am perfectly content where I am.”

“I… but…” You stop. You’re not really sure where you were going with that.

The princess sighs. She marks her place, and lays the book on a side table. She gestures to one of the chairs. “Let me guess,” she says. “A lovely little old lady hired you. Very sweet, greets everyone with a plate of cookies. She shuffles more than walks and leans on a cane. Very harmless. Very unassuming. She told you a sob story about a poor princess, shut in a tower for… Oh, I can’t imagine what she used this time. Someone was jealous? They were afraid I would be stolen away? I’ve been cursed?”

“Um.” You’ve taken a seat now. “A dragon had taken you and hid you here, to hold you for ransom.”

The princess rolls her eyes. “Ah. We’re stereotyping dragons, now. Lovely.” She rearranges the blanket on her legs. “The truth, then. I am a princess, she did not lie to you about that. However, I am not in this tower because of dragons, curses, jealousy, beauty, or whatever reasons she can dream up. This tower was, in fact, my idea.”

“Why?” you blurt.

The princess smiles. There’s something a little secretive about it, like she’s letting you in on something. “You see,” she says, “I was born a little different from the rest of the world. Not much, mind, but enough to make it hard for me to function in your world. I’ve got a touch of power in me. I can, of course, cast spells. But that is not why I am here. I am here because I also have a touch of the Sight. And that… well. It makes me a little… sensitive.” She drums her fingers on the arm of the sofa. “It is hard to explain, because I can do so many different little tricks, but I will try. Since you came all this way.

“The main one, I think, is being able to sense emotions. This one is not something I can turn off. Being in a crowded room is… overwhelming. I can feel what everyone else is feeling, and they are hardly ever feeling the same things. It is enough to drown my own emotions out, and it is—I am sure you can imagine—unpleasant.

“I can also sense surface thoughts, sometimes. When they are very loud, or when I care to turn an ear to them. When I was younger, I could not control this, and… thus, crowds of people were, once again, very uncomfortable.

“And, of course, I can predict things. With an object—clear or mirrored, preferably—I can see things going on in other places. It takes focus, and practice, and it helps if I’ve been there or have a clear idea of what I am looking for, but it is possible. I can catch glimpses of things that will happen, or could happen.

“I can also see the future of an object, if I touch it. Or look into its past, see where it’s been. This was another thing I could not control as a young one, and made things very, very unpleasant.

“There are other things, too, but these are the three that made me seek solace here. I get visitors. I leave sometimes. But, yes. My being here is very much a choice. I thank you, again, for your concern. But it is not warranted.”

“I…” You bite your lip, and shake your head. “I do not understand why I was sent here, then. If you are not in danger.”

“Ah. Well.” The princess smiles wryly. “The old woman who sent you here is not an old woman at all. That is the disguise she dons, when she sends people to me. I believe because it makes her seem more trustworthy… or perhaps because she thinks its funny. I don’t know.” She shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. She sent you here, the same way she did the others, because she wants to use you to get past my wards.” She turns her gaze from you, and looks at the door you came in. “Isn’t that right, Muriel?”

In the doorway stands a woman who is nothing like the little old lady who plied you with cookies and a sob story about a kidnapped princess. She has long golden hair that shines in the window light. She walks with a finely carved staff; a glowing orb at the top. When she gets close, however, you can see her eyes. And those—those are the eyes of the old lady. Warm brown with a touch of humor. She sits in the empty seat.

“You turned the last three away at the door,” Muriel says. “I was beginning to think that you were angry with me.”

The princess hums. “I don’t know why you bother with the pretext,” she says. “You could just have them deliver a letter.”

“I could. But then however would I test their virtue?”

“Virtue?” you ask, before you can stop yourself. You are still so terribly confused. You lost the plot somewhere around when you opened that first door—and you don’t think you’d ever quite caught back up.

Muriel looks at you, as if she was surprised that you were still there. “Well, yes, darling,” she says. “First to see if you were willing to face a dragon to rescue a princess you’d never even met. And then to see if you could get through the doors. They don’t let you in unless you’re pure of intention.”

That doesn’t really clear anything up.

“But why?”

“I presume to keep the princess safe.”

“That’s not what our good knight is asking, and you know it,” the princess chides.

Muriel grins. “Because I’ve need of you, good knight. We’ll get to that. For now…” She looks back the princess. “What do you think, dear? You know I trust your judgment more than anyone else’s.”

“Speak more plainly, Muriel,” the princess says. “I’ve no idea which scheme you’re speaking about now. I can’t possibly keep track of them all.”

Muriel huffs. “The knight, dear.”

The princess gives you another once over. “Depends,” she says. “What is it you’re needing?”

“The gryphon, I think.”

The princess seems to consider that, then sniffs. “No. You’d be better off asking one of the other three.”

You feel indignant.

“I would send this one for the unicorn.”

Less indignant. But only just.

“Oh, truly?” Muriel looks at you again, and there is a new appreciation in her eyes. “Well. You know best, on the subject of unicorns, I suppose.”

“It isn’t that I don’t appreciate the flattery, because I do. However, I really must ask you to drop the pretense. You didn’t come all of this way to ask me that. Speak true, Muriel.”

“Perhaps I just wanted to see you.” Muriel’s tone and expression goes coy, almost coquettish.

A ghost of a smile appears on the princess’s mouth. “If you wish to engage me in courtship, Muriel, there are far less roundabout ways to go about it. Which, mind, I would appreciate far more than the games.”

Muriel flushes, almost imperceptibly. “Ah. Yes, I suppose that’s true.”

The princess inclines her head, and in a gentler tone says, “Your affections would be welcome.”

“Truly?”

“I would not lie to you, dear,” the princess says. “However, once again, I must ask you to speak the truth. Why have you come?”

Muriel sighs. “Your perceptiveness grates, you know?”

“So you have said.”

“Fine. I have come to steal you away again.”

“Ah. Where to?” The princess looks remarkably calm at that comment, though your hackles have raised. Wherever Muriel wishes to go, you do not think the princess should have any part of it. You have a feeling, though, that if you said anything, the princess would—kindly—tell you to mind your own business.

“The Wilds,” Muriel says.

This means nothing to you, but the princess nods.

“Of course,” she murmurs to herself. “Right, well. When do you wish to leave?”

“Once I’ve gotten this one packed off,” Muriel says. She gestures to you.

“Do I get a say?” you ask. Demand.

“Well of course, dear,” Muriel says. “You’ll either take the mission I give you or… go off to do whatever you do when you’re not taking quests from strange women. Either way.”

You huff, but nod.

“Very well,” the princess says. “I am agreeable.”

“Excellent.” Muriel sends her a quick flash of a smile. The glimpse you catch is soft and subtle. The princess’s own lips quirk in response… and then suddenly, both their eyes are on you again.

Muriel is looking at you like she’s a cat and you’re… something small and skittering. You don’t know if she’s going to pounce, or if she just wishes to watch, but either way—you’re more than a little unnerved.

The princess, on the other hand, looks kind and a little amused. “Any questions?” she prompts.

“Why did she—you—need my help to get in the tower? If you two are friends, I mean.”

“Because Muriel practices dark magic,” the princess says plainly.

You start; sitting up right as if a rod has just been plunged through your spine.

The princess laughs. “That does not mean that she is evil. Your knightly virtue is still intact. Dark magic is simply a tool, like any other, and Muriel wields it well.”

“But…”

The princess reaches out, and lays a hand on yours. You can feel the weight of it through your gauntlet, though not much else. “Muriel is something of a trickster, it is true. She lies. Sometimes for a good reason, and sometimes simply for her own amusement. She does not mean any harm when she does it… and so, she will never quite be sorry for it. It is her way. But let this be a lesson to you. If you work with her—or, truly, anyone else—do your research before blindly following what they tell you.” She pats your hand, and withdraws. “Now. Muriel will explain what she wants you to do, if you let her, while I get ready.”

She stands, folds the blanket she had been using, and takes her book off to another room. You are left alone with Muriel, and you eye her warily.

Muriel does not seem to mind your distrust. If anything, it seems to amuse her more. “So,” she says. “Unicorns.”

“I won’t kill one,” you say, immediately.

Muriel laughs. “Nor would I ask that of you,” she says. “I do not wish for you to kill one. Nor maim one, capture one, or any other nasty thing your mind has conjured up.” She reaches into a satchel, and pulls out a small vial. Inside is a beautiful, shimmering liquid. “You are familiar with Eaton’s River, yes?”

You nod. You’d been, once.

“Mm. If you follow the river north, to its source, you’ll come to the mountains. More specifically, to the forest at the base of those mountains. Keep going, and you’ll reach a waterfall—and, of course, a lake. The lake has a dock… and likely, a rowboat. Do not take the rowboat, though you may be tempted. Instead, pour the contents of this vial into the lake.

“When that is done, make camp by the lake. You may drink from it, but do not bathe in it. Go further down the river for that—past the ring of trees surrounding the area. You shouldn’t have to stay for long. No more than three days. Eventually, you will see a unicorn. Do not worry about missing it. Its presence will wake you up.

“Do nothing to it, unless it does something to you, first. If it speaks to you, those words are yours alone. If it lays its head in your lap, that moment is yours to keep. When it leaves, you are free to go as well.

“However, there are things I wish you to keep an eye out for. First, a white deer. Stag or doe, it matters not. Only that is pure white. Do not kill it, but if you see it, I wish to know about it when both you and I have returned.

“Second, the unicorn itself. I wish to know the color of its horn; whether or not it has any markings; and if it is alone or not.

“Lastly, the water. Tell me if there is anything built on the mound in the middle; if there is anything strange about the boat beyond the urge to get in it; whether anything happens when you pour the water in; and most importantly… whether or not you see anyone or anything inside the water during your time there. Even if you believe it is a hallucination.

“Am I clear?”

You blink, but nod.

“Excellent.” She pulls out a piece of paper, and she hands that to you as well. “These are the instructions I have just stated. Now. Tell me, knight. Will you do this?”

“Why?” you ask.

“A vested interest in magical ecology,” Muriel says primly.

The princess emerges, a bag slung over her shoulder. She approaches you both. Whatever she sees on your face has her smiling. “You’ve gone and confused the poor thing, Muriel. Are you allergic to explaining yourself?”

“Yes,” Muriel says. “You can’t see it, but my arms have broken out into terrible hives.”

The princess snorts, and looks at you. “The unicorn needs to be checked on. They’re quite rare, you know, and it’s good to make sure they’re still healthy. I imagine Muriel also wishes to know if it has made any friends, or reproduced.”

Muriel inclined her head.

“The lake has its own creatures within. They’re not friendly, so do not engage with them. They’ll drown you. The potion she’s given you is… highly magical. In this case, it does many things. It will… the closest I can think of is ‘get them drunk.’ They will still overpower you if you get in the water, but they won’t actively pursue you.

“It is also power enough to attract the unicorn, to ensure that you get a look at it. And, it has the added bonus of cleaning the water out a bit.” The princess shrugged. “An ingenious little vial.”

“And the deer?” you ask.

“Attracted to the presence of the unicorn,” the princess says. “Or perhaps caused by the unicorn’s own magic—I’ve never been quite sure. Either way, it means that the land there is responding to the presence of the unicorn. It’s a good thing. A very good thing.”

Muriel said you had a choice in this, but… the way they spoke, it sounded like you already decided to go. Which… you will, of course, because while this is not the quest you had envisioned for yourself, it still sounds important, and befitting of your training. They way they assume is a bit grating, but… Whatever. Your instructor had once told you that, of those who give you quests, magical folk rank just behind nobility in how grating they could be.

“Right then,” Muriel says, at your nod. “Time for the lot of us to be off. We’ve got things to do.”

You stand. “I still don’t quite understand who the two of you are,” you admit. There is more going on here than you understand—context that you’re lacking.

“We’re a Seer and a Witch,” Muriel says, as if this makes things plain. “A trickster and a truth-seer. A commoner and a princess.”

“We are what we are,” the princess says, laying a hand on Muriel’s arm. “And what we are works very well together. That is all that matters.”

“But… I mean… what do you do?”

“What needs doing,” the princess says. “Whether that is relocating unicorns, closing portals to the abyss, or removing curses.” She shrugs. “Don’t worry about it too much. Either it will become clearer to you one day… or it will not.”

“Then you mean to see me again?”

“Well, that depends on you, doesn’t it?” Muriel asks. “Whether you decide to work with me again.”

You suppose that’s true. You give a nod, and this time it is Muriel who smiles at you.

“Off we go, then,” she says.

The three of you exit the tower, and part ways at the door. You retrieve your things where you left them, and look on towards the horizon. It’s a long way from here to the river.

You shoulder your pack, and start walking.

#writeblr #writers of tumblr #writelr #fantasy fiction #my writing #a conspicuous lack of dragons #short fiction

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elfyourmother · 5 years ago

Note

Can I ask you something trivia Tuesday related? When you let Gisele make the jump into another universe, did you as a writer ever feel the need to change something about her to better fit the new environment? Or did you just roll with it and let the different circumstances influence her?

Sure! This is pretty funny though because (as usual) I never intended for it to happen in the first place. When I finally decided to give FFXIV a shot, I didn’t want to open a new can of worms so to speak, so I had the idea that if I just used an existing character as a placeholder of sorts, I wouldn’t be so invested in it or attached because of how my brain works. I’ve never been an AU person because I always have a very firm sense of what’s “right” for a character’s story, which is also why I’ve never been the type of person to make more than one PC in a game. ME is Imani’s story, DA2 is Marisol’s etc. any attempt to go through with another is weird and offputting and deeply upsetting to me. So I thought making Gisele my FFXIV protagonist would be “safe”, because surely I could never see her as anything but the Heroine of Ferelden who went on to save Amaranthine, marry Alistair et al and become Queen of Ferelden, have children, then later on form the Inquistory Triumvirate with Mari and Khedira? I could never, my brain doesn’t work that way, it never has.

[insert that ronald mcdonald clown wig meme here]

Anyway once my brain started being like “lol what if Gisele really was the Warrior of Light? She always did have a close relationship with a spirit, what if it wasn’t actually a Fade spirit but Hydaelyn???” and crack started becoming real, there really wasn’t anything I felt like I had to change as far as story, except the obvious thing that she skips performing the Dark Ritual with Morrigan and thus makes the Ultimate Sacrifice and dies to the Archdemon, which is the impetus for her soul being yeeted into this other world. I love fish out of water stories, I love the amnesiac hero trope, like there’s nothing about any of the fundamental premise of her FFXIV story that isn’t stupidly fun for me, which is why I got so obsessed with it.

As far as Gisele’s characterization...she’s still fundamentally the same kind of person. I didn’t feel the need to change her to fit the new setting. If anything, it’s the opposite: I feel like she’s finally reaching her full potential as a character, because if I’m really honest, Gisele fits way better into a Final Fantasy setting than she ever did in grimdark ass Thedas. All of my OCs are informed by a childhood growing up on FF games and JRPGs in general. Even when they’re not meant as intentional pastiches (my Revan, half my Warcraft OCs), those influences seep in subconsciously. And in DA, I always felt constrained with Gisele, hemmed in by certain stylistic conceits and design decisions. Gisele is an over the top high femme magical girl-esque heroine with crazy high power level who runs on the Power of Friendship and I always felt like she stuck out like a sore thumb. As one silly point she has white hair, ffs, and nobody did in those games besides Fenris. Meanwhile in Eorzea it’s easier to name the people she knows and loves who don’t have white hair. But the basic power fantasy I had in mind with her was always fundamentally a Final Fantasy one and not a Bioware/western RPG one. And I didn’t realize it until I put her into a Final Fantasy universe.

BioWare not knowing wtf to do with Arcane Warrior is a huge example of that, because the gishy spellsword archetype I had in my head was totally at odds with what was possible in the game. Then I saw the XIV version of Red Mage and it was spot on.

In general, FFXIV it feels like she came home in a sense, the same way I did on a meta level.

#ask bisho #kunstpause #gisele surana #warden of light au #thanks for asking!#ngl at this point it feels like the da timeline is the au #people love and appreciate her so much more in eorzea #without me having to handwave everything and take sledgehammers to canon #her power level is much better suited to a final fantasy protag anyway #and much like imani’s kemetic religion come me2 #gisele being a grey warden called by hydaelyn became hilariously eerily relevant to shadowbringers

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writersrealmbts · 6 years ago

Text

Sleigh Ride

Description: Christmas story raffle submission, Safe with Me Universe, Sanctuary Series. Hybrid Kook brings a friend over for Christmas holidays, and doesn't like it when Taehyung catches her under the mistletoe and leaves his scent on her. He needs to fix it, right now.

Warnings: Read Description

Posted: 12/25/2018

Tags: Hybrid Jungkook, Bunny Hybrid Jungkook

Fluffy/angsty: 3,414 words

A/N: I used placeholder names for the other readers. Ava is another of the most common names, Ren because of the meaning, and Ariel because it means lion. Because I wasn’t going to go through the insanity of trying to leave everyone nameless.

MERRY CHRISTMAS! Happy Holidays!

You and Jungkook met by chance when you started tutoring alongside your best friend’s brother for some extra cash. You were meeting up with Josh to get his advice on how to help a student you were tutoring when you ran into the bunny-hybrid and you just sort of blinked in surprise as he caught the book you dropped. He was a little shy, but so were you. You both stood there, trying to think of something to say until you both started talking at once. Josh intervened right about then, asking you to take over tutoring Jungkook because the help he needed was more in your wheelhouse. Thus, you two started getting coffee together and he told you about his family and you told him about your lack-thereof. Just you and your former owner, who would be on his honeymoon for Christmas. That’s when he got the idea to invite you to his family’s Christmas, insisting that they wouldn’t mind and that there would totally be enough food for you and that they wouldn’t buy presents for you so you didn’t have to buy presents for them. “What if I already got you a Christmas present?” You teased, thinking of how it was waiting in your room to be wrapped and how you had planned to give it to him at your next tutoring session. You were always well prepared for things, storing them away due to your squirrel genes. You finished Christmas shopping before December even hit. He had gotten flustered. “Well…we could exchange gifts. No sense in returning them.” You grinned at him. “You got me a gift already?” He looked away, sort of sheepish. “Jungkook, you are a complete sweetheart. But…won’t it be a little…awkward?” He shook his head. “Dinner is technically completely separate occasion for us. We’ve already done presents in the morning and lunch is the big thing. Dinner is mostly whatever was left of lunch and we’re all just…chilling. Goofing off. The kids are with Eomma and Appa. We’re playing games and barely hitting the eggnog and mulled cider. Jimin, Yoongi, and Jimin’s wife enjoy some catnip. You’ll like them. Well, Namjoon and his mate can be a little standoffish, but they’ll warm up. They’re wolf hybrids.” “Really? That’s so cool. You know they’re going extinct,” You said. “Actually, that’s going to be on the next test. Write that down.” His eyes widened, muttering a curse under his breath and jotting it into his study notes. “This final is going to suck.” “You’ll be fine. As long as you remember that the breeding of wolf hybrids stopped being practiced the year before I was born.” You jotted down the year in his notes. “You’re positive that your family won’t mind?” “Eomma and Appa are always saying my friends are more than welcome. They sort of adopt people anyway. Christmas dinner isn’t a big deal. Now, are you going to accept and move on to helping me pass this final, or are we going to schedule tutoring sessions for next semester when I have to retake this course?” You rolled your eyes and hit his head with your fluffy tail. “You’ve passed so far. You’d get a good enough grade to pass. Wouldn’t look great for your GPA, but you’d still pass.” You stirred your hot chocolate and turned your attention to your own textbook. “You’re coming, right?” He asked softly, his bunny ears back against his head. You smiled and nodded. “Yeah, Kook. I’d love to.” “Good.” ———— You rang the doorbell, though you doubted you really needed to when Jungkook opened the door the moment you pressed it. He grinned. “You came!” “I told you I would,” You replied, smiling and following him inside. You let him take your coat and scarf. Three curious little heads were peeking around the doorway, whispering and giggling. Jungkook gestured toward them. “The triplets, Nari, Kaemon, and Minsu. You guys can meet her, she doesn’t bite. Right y/n?” You nodded. “Right. Jungkook has told me lots about you.” Nari and one of the boys hurried forward, sniffing and smiling at you. “Are you Jungkook’s girlfriend?” The boy asked. “Yah, Minsu, what have we told you about sticking your nose where it isn’t wanted?” Jungkook asked, tossing the boy over his shoulder. Minsu just laughed. “Hyung!” Nari hopped closer. “Hi, you smell good.” “That’s not how we start polite conversation,” A woman, Emma—you assumed, said softly. Nari gave her a sheepish smile. “Hello, I’m Nari, Jungkook-oppa’s little sister. That’s Minsu, and this is Kaemon,” She said, pulling the last little boy from where he was hiding shyly beside his mother’s legs. “Nice to meet you, Nari.” You shook her little hand, then stood back up at smiled at the woman. “You must be Emma?” She nodded. “And you’re y/n. Jungkook has told us a lot about you.” “All good?” She laughed when Kook gave both of you a scared look. “Of course.” You smiled. “Thank you for letting me come here—” “Oh, don’t even mention it. We’re happy to have you. Alright, my little munchkins, time for quiet time with your appa and me.” She herded the two on the floor toward the stairs. “Have fun. Don’t burn the house down. Same rules as always,” She told Jungkook, kissing his cheek after he put Minsu down. “Yes, eomma,” He replied softly, looking at her with more love than you had ever seen on his face before. It was strange seeing him at home. He was nice, really and truly, but he always seemed a little nervous even around his friends. Here he was completely relaxed, ears in a neutral position and expression completely open. You loved it. She disappeared upstairs, calling over her shoulder, “Tell Jin to bring the can of whipped cream.” “Yes, eomma,” Jungkook waved for you to follow him into the next room. “Bathroom is over there. This is the kitchen and living room.” You nodded, scurrying a little closer because now you were feeling a little shy as you saw his family all gathered in the area, most of the attention was on a toddler that was playing with a stuffed animal the same size as her, her stump of a tail lashing playfully. “Appa, eomma said to bring the can of whipped cream,” Jungkook told a dog-hybrid that was putting mugs on a tray. “This is y/n. Y/n, this is Jin. He’s the one who adopted me.” You smiled. “Jungkook’s told me all about you. And Emma. Actually, all of you. I’m sort of a history buff, I like hearing people’s stories.” Jin smiled at you. “Welcome to our house. Glad to meet you. We understand that you’re the reason Jungkook’s passed most of his classes this semester.” You giggled as Jungkook groaned and rolled his eyes. “He just needed someone to make him sit down and study, right, Kook?” He grumbled something about regrets. You turned as someone tapped your shoulder. The monkey-hybrid grinned at you. “I’m Taehyung. And you’re standing under mistletoe.” You looked up, eyes widening. He dropped a kiss on your lips quickly, then darted away with a mischievous laugh. You stared after him, then quickly sidestepped away from the mistletoe before anyone else got any bright ideas. Your pressed the back of your cold fingers to your burning cheeks. Jin was barely suppressing his laughter. Jungkook was rigid, eyes huge, brow furrowed, and lips parted in surprise. You cleared your throat. “Um, introduce me to the others before they decide to introduce themselves to me under mistletoe.” Jungkook scowled momentarily, then nodded and led the way over to the others. “That’s Yoongi and his daughter Eunyeong, that’s Taehyung, who you met. Namjoon and his mate, Ava. Jimin and his wife, Ariel. Hoseok and Ren. This is y/n. My friend.” “Good kisser,” Taehyung chuckled. You closed your eyes, listening as Taehyung was scolded and teased and told to behave. Jungkook put an arm around you. “Don’t worry. I’ll take him if he tries anything again.” You glanced up at him and then let him lead you to a seat on the couch Yoongi was sitting on. Eunyeong came over, curious. “Hi.” “Hello,” You replied, waving a little. She grinned. “Hi.” You giggled. “Hello, what’s your name?” “Euny,” She replied, hugging your legs as she sniffed you. “W’as you name?” “Y/n,” You told her gently. She parroted you, then giggled and let go, going over to Yoongi. “Appa, that’s y/n,” She said, crawling up into his lap and then reaching precariously to pull the stuffed animal up as well. He stopped her, picking it up himself and setting it on Jungkook’s lap. “Careful, Euny.” He spoke in a tired voice, unemotional, but she just purred and snuggled into him, earning a small smile. Ava, Namjoon’s mate, smiled at you. “Jungkook talks a lot about you. What about him? What’s he like when he’s not around us?” “Jumpy,” You replied, hearing a small grunt of protest from Jungkook. You nudged him. “Don’t deny it. Took me two months, that’s fourteen study sessions where we spent three hours together to get him to even look my in the eyes and speak a sentence without then blushing and running out on some fruitless errand like getting more coffee or a snack before inevitably having to return and continue studying. When he finally did start talking to me, it was because he saw my boyfriend cheating on me.” “That was a mess,” Jungkook muttered, arm going around your shoulders again and his nose twitching like he smelled something bad. Ren gave a sympathetic smile. “Jerk?” “Major jerk. Made it so I was afraid to even talk to him. Jungkook and my friends had to back me up. Even then, my former owner had to threaten him to never come around me again. My roommate was extremely concerned. But that was forever ago. Jungkook’s talked to me ever since.” You gently elbowed him, smiling at him. Ava flashed you a big grin. “How long have you two been—” “Isn’t it time for Eunyeong’s nap?” Jungkook asked a little too loudly. Yoongi gave Jungkook a glare you would never want to receive. Euny went still, eyes getting huge, tail fluffing out. “Nooooo!” She mewled out, sounding absolutely heartbroken. Tears immediately fell down her face. The entire room was tense. Ava and Namjoon looked like they were looking for something to attack. Jimin’s ears were back, looking almost as heartbroken as Eunyeong sounded and Ariel was holding onto him and biting her lip. Hoseok had his face behind his hand and Ren was giving Yoongi a sympathetic look. Jungkook looked like he had serious regrets. “Hyung, I’m sorry.” Yoongi snatched up Eunyeong and her stuffed animal. “Shh, baby, it’s not time for a nap.” He went into a different room that Jungkook hadn’t labeled. Taehyung reached out, looking upset, but he then gave Jungkook a hard look. “Yah! Jungkook! We just told you not to mention naps around Euny!” Jungkook’s ears were flat and the scent he gave off spoke of how ashamed he felt. “Sorry, hyung.” You reached out and touched Taehyung’s shoulder as he got ready to speak again. “I’m sure it wasn’t intentional, oppa.” Taehyung looked at you, expression softening into something a little more like an upset pout. He took your hand. Then Jungkook had him pinned to the floor and Taehyung was yelping in surprise. You flinched. Jimin quickly pulled Jungkook off of Taehyung after some harshly whispered words and a stern look. Jungkook tore away from Jimin, grabbed your arm and pulled you out of the room, he tossed your coat, purse, and scarf at you before dragging you outside. “Jungkook?!” You finally tore away from him once you were both outside. He whipped around and glared at you. “Why did you do that?” “Do what?” You asked, folding your arms, and glaring right back. “Let him kiss you! Touch him! Calling him oppa! What are you doing treating him like that? Now his smell is all over you!” He grabbed you and pulled you to his chest, holding you there as he growled a very un-bunny-like growl. You were sort of stunned into complacency as he started rubbing all over you, covering you with his scent. “Stupid mistletoe, stupid Taehyung,” He muttered, suddenly nipping at your scent gland. You jumped. “Jungkook?” He pulled away when he heard your tone, wincing. “I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” You just looked at him, bewildered. “What is going on, Jungkook?” He looked down. “I don’t want his scent on you.” “So you tackled him and then dragged me out into the cold?” You slipped your coat on. “And basically kicked me out of your house after inviting me. I haven’t even been here half an hour. If you didn’t want me to come, then you shouldn’t have invited me!” He looked up at you with alarm. “What? No! I want you here! I’m not kicking you out, I just had to get you away from him! From them! It’s not fair for their scent to be on you when none of mine is!” You frowned at him. “Jungkook, your scent is all over me. Taehyung barely touched me. You’ve been hanging all over me for weeks. It’d take four showers and a completely new wardrobe to get your scent out.” He blinked at you. “Could you just say it? Could you just tell me that you want to date me. To be my mate already. Do you even realize that you’ve basically been going through all the regular mating rituals without ever saying anything?” You folded your arms, frowning at him. “Or kissing me. I think I’ve been pretty patient through all of this, don’t you?” His eyes were huge, staring at you, but also distant as his mind went over everything. “Oh man, holy—” “Jungkook?” Emma asked, opening the front door. “What is going on?” He looked over at her, then back at you as you pulled your scarf tightly around you to ward off the cold. You wore your dress jacket because you were just going from the car to the house and it provided very little warmth. “Y/n, are you leaving already?” Emma asked, still giving Jungkook that mom look. “I honestly don’t know,” You replied, folding your arms and hunching your shoulders to try and contain the warmth. Jungkook closed his eyes. “Eomma, could you go back inside. We’ll be back in soon.” She looked at you, silently asking if you were okay. You hesitated, then nodded. She nodded and went back inside. Jungkook put both hands on your shoulders. “I didn’t realize I was doing it.” “I’m seeing that.” “I’m sorry. I…should have been more careful and I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I just…after seeing you with your ex…I never wanted to see you hurt again and when Taehyung kissed you…” He scowled at the ground, then looked into your eyes with determination. “Will you still have me?” You blinked at the intensity in his gaze. “I don’t know.” He looked down, then stepped closer and kissed you. It was soft, sweet, everything you knew he was. Perfect. You looked up at him. “You can’t just freak out like that. Not around your family. It’s embarrassing for me, you know.” He nodded. “I’m sorry. I just…I didn’t want to lose you so I never said anything.” “Jungkook,” You said softly. “Just kiss me.” He relaxed, smiling and leaning down to kiss you again. Then again. His arms wrapped around you, and you curled into the warmth that emanated from him. He pulled away, running his fingers through your hair with a small smile. “I’ve always wanted to play with your hair. And feel your ears. Can I feel your ears?” You nodded, leaning into his chest. His hand slid through your hair, then pet it down before he tentatively slid his hand over your ears. “They’re so small and cute,” He murmured. You giggled softly. “I’m a squirrel-hybrid. What did you expect?” He leaned down and kissed you. “Is it weird that we’re different hybrid species?” “Do you really care? Because if you do, then we can’t go forward.” “I don’t. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t think so. You met Ariel. She’s a mix of two hybrid species. She’s fox and cat. We’re at least in the same family of species.” Jungkook looked thoughtful. “Um,” You started, wondering if you should burst his bubble. “Actually, squirrels are in the order Rodentia while rabbits are in the order Lagomorpha, which puts me in the family Sciuridae and you in the family Leporidae.” He blinked at you blankly. “But…” “It changed a few years ago. Like twelve.” He looked at the ground. “Well, that’s going to affect my grade in Biology…” You winced. “That was actually on your test?” He nodded. “Well, you should still be able to pass. Come on. I’m freezing. And I was promised food.” He blinked a few more times, then nodded. “Right. You look cute when you eat. Your cheeks get all puffy.” You groaned. “Do not let me store food in my cheeks in front of your family. I am not going to behave like a squirrel in front of them.” “It’s cute. If we’re dating, can I play with your tail? It’s so fluffy.” “Not in front of other people. I have pride, you know.” You hit him in the face with your tail. He smiled at you. “Can we cuddle?” “Sure, but don’t trap me. I’ll freak out.” He caught you, ears perked with excitement. “Can we hang out without studying?” “We better,” You replied, smiling up at him. He bit his lip. “I freaked out earlier and mentioned Eunyeong’s naptime because Ava was about to ask how long we’ve been dating. She’s trouble. I could see the question in her eyes and I didn’t want her to ask that and make things awkward and everything just spiraled out of control from there. I am so sorry, I promise I won’t do anything like that ever again.” You just smiled at him. “It’s okay, Kook. It’s nice seeing you here. Where you’re most comfortable. I just want you to be relaxed and happy. Nothing’s going to happen with me and any other guy.” He nodded, eyes closed as you kissed him. His arm slid gently around your waist, guiding you back inside. He helped you take your coat off, hanging it up with your scarf and purse. He then guided you back into the room where the rest of his family was, including Yoongi and Eunyeong but excluding Emma, Jin, and the triplets. Jimin came over, looking worried. “Everything okay?” Jungkook nodded. “Yeah, hyung. I was just being stupid.” You nudged him gently. “We’re good now. Go apologize to Taehyung.” He nodded again. “Can you wait here? I want to sit by you.” You nodded, nudging him again gently. Jimin stood with you, watching him go. “He never clarified this was a date, did he?” You laughed softly. “I don’t think he even thought of it as a date until Taehyung kissed me and he didn’t like it.” He grinned. “You’re all he talks about.” “I’ve been accused of doing the same by my friends and family,” You replied, biting your lip. “How awkward was it when we left?” “We’ve had weirder. We just gave Taehyung some sweet potato chips and showed him the pictures of the kids Ariel is working with at the clinic. They’ll talk it out. Ren, Hoseok, and Ava are getting dinner together.” He gestured toward the kitchen where they were working. Jungkook came back over. “We’re good. Time to eat, Noona?” “Almost,” Ren replied, setting more dishes on the table. Jungkook wrapped his arms around you cautiously, sneakily kissing your cheek. “Your tail, that’s going to be enemy number 1, isn’t it?” “Always,” You replied cheerfully, resting your cheek against his. “But it’s nice and warm like a blanket in winter.” He smiled. “That does sound nice,” He whispered in your ear. Taehyung’s laugh filled the room. “Hey! They’re matching shades of red!” He grinned at the two of you and then started dodging around the table as Jungkook playfully chased him. Your eyes followed your bunny, grateful for this wonderful, magical day.

Masterlist. ~~ Series Masterpost. ~~ Next Part

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brenli · 6 years ago

Text

[28]

Tagged by: @goddamnitkastle (YAYAYAY ANOTHER ONE!)

1. how tall are you? 5′3″

2. what color and style is your hair? Dark brown. A couple of stray silver strands. When the light hits it right you can see natural auburn-y red highlights/tones in it, especially near the ends. I wear it long, down to my lower back, usually parted in the middle (sometimes on the left) and with bangs. Usually blunt-cut across my brows, but I'm not as good about trimming them as I ought to be so they usually end up growing out long enough that I need to brush them off to the right.

3. what color are your eyes? Brown

4. do you wear glasses? My cat-eye specs are basically part of my identity at this point.

5. do you wear braces? Nope

6. what is your fashion style? I have contempt for this question that likes of which you cannot believe. XD I guess in the most general sense it's rock-chic. Rock/metal girl elements mixed with glamorous or feminine elements/silhouettes. But this is MASSIVELY boiling down my massive wardrobe and I've certainly had moments of departure from the rock-chic umbrella depending on how I'm feeling. I dislike strictly adhering to specific style labels; I find it stifling.

7. full name? Brenda Lee Larson. My maiden name is cooler to be honest; I only changed it because I was more interested in sharing a surname with the Honey and I know I can still use my maiden name for other things.

8. when were you born? July 24, 1987

9. where are you from and where do you live now? Technically born in Coupeville on Whidbey Island, WA, USA and spent the first 4 years of my life bouncing around different naval stations because my family was about that Navy Life, but the majority of my formative years Spokane, WA, USA so my assumption is that would be more accurately where I'm "from." (Hawaii is where my heart wants to say I'm from though as that's where my earliest memories take place~) After some years spent CA (first in the Bay and then in LA), I'm currently living just south of Seattle, WA. So. Basically I've been wiggling around the West Coast my whole life, including going so far west I ditched the mainland for a spell.

10. what school do you go to? I WORK at a school currently, Cornish. Freelancing as a house manager for 3 of their 4 venues. The 4th one never seems to put on any events that require one of us from the house management roster, otherwise I'd work gigs at that one, too. XD

11. what kind of student are you? Some of you who make these questionnaires clearly cannot think beyond life-after-schooling and it shows. XD I was an above-average student for the vast majority of my years in schooling but I started falling off a little toward the end, largely because I was very keenly aware of what areas of study pertained to me and my interests/goals, and I had no patience for areas of study that did not. I left before it got too bad.

12. do you like school? I liked the parts of school that spoke to me~

13. what are your favorite school subjects? Literature/English was always the major go-to throughout all of my years of schooling. I was in Choir up until highschool; this was when Theatre became available to me and I wasn't able to participate in both, so I parted ways with Choir and focused on Theatre all the way up through my last years of schooling. Other subjects of interest, in highschool: Photography, Psychology, Forensic Science, World History. In college: Creative Writing, Journalism, Japanese.

14. favorite TV shows? The major ones have been racy period dramas The Tudors and The Borgias. I grew up on Star Trek TOS and as such it has a very dear place in my heart despite it not being a racy period drama. XD I also am quite invested in the Netflix MCU with Daredevil and The Punisher being my two favorite shows (Frank is my everything!). More currently I've been expanding my Sanada-san filmography-binge thanks in large part to @anagraves; I recently finished the 1993 Koukou Kyoushi and am through episode 10 of Konna Koi no Hanashi. What I've been learning from this - Hiroyuki Sanada knows how to break hearts whether he's being soft and vulnerable to cold and cruel and anything in between, but that's exactly why I love him.

INB4 "you post Snow White everything so why isn't OUAT on here" I do enjoy OUAT a lot, but I don't know if I would consider it a favorite show overall. I'm more fond of the earlier seasons than the later seasons and it's that ambivalent feeling I have for the later seasons that make the show not a favorite - but still very good overall.

It's also at this point that I should probably explain what my blog description does not - my blog started running a Snow White-themed queue LARGELY as part of an inspiration-drive for a Snow White AU project that I haven't actually touched in a long time. I REALLY should do something about that; I just keep getting pulled in other directions and now it's years on and here I am with what's basically a Snow White queueblog. XD If I can ever get my dumb head in gear and FINISH what I've started, that would honestly result in the queue being mass-posted and then probably altered to suit whatever the next project would be. That's always been the intention, anyway.

15. favorite movies? While I'm still feeling the chilly gaze of my Snow White queue, my favorite Snow White movie thus far is Mirror Mirror. I think it's massively underrated and that makes me sad.

As far as Disney is concerned, while I have a HUGE amount of respect for Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, my favorite film growing up was Beauty and the Beast (and my Rococo-loving ass does adore the live action remake). Surprise??? XD More recently, Moana is the film of my heart; it's the closest Disney has gotten to making a Princess culturally-relevant to me as a half-Filipina so my tropical islander ass is just utterly enamoured with Moana. ((Listen Disney if you ever decide to make a super fun colorful precolonial Philippine film THE PERFECT PRINCESS EXISTS FOR THAT, I submit for your consideration - Urduja!)

Because of my rather open-door childhood with regard to media, my earliest favorite movies are actually Nightmare on Elm Street and Nightmare on Elm Street: Dream Warriors. Freddy is my Nightmare King Murder Boyfriend and I'm prepared to face judgement for that. XD

Fondness for Star Trek TOS has resulted in an affection for the AOS movies~

But a movie that speaks to me very much is What Dreams May Come.

Currently I've gotten re-ensnared into The Last Samurai, in correlation with the most recent AU project. Because I am hopeless, Grumpy Samurai is Best Samurai, and I've been spending time manically fretting and pretending that because Ujio drops before the gatling guns are brought out, maybe he SOMEHOW managed to survive in SOME way and he can have tons of cool battle scars. Right? ... RIGHT???

16. favorite books? If manga counts then it's Angel Sanctuary. Hands down. No contest. It's easily woven itself into my life in the form of fanfic that is/was well-received within the fandom, and a weirdly HUGE list of AUs that somehow burst out of nowhere. (Currently all of it, AU work included, can be read via my FF.Net account under brenli. I have a placeholder page on AO3 that's currently empty but may end up holding all my content there as well, in time. If I can ever make the time.)

I was and am really into Sue Harrison's Ivory Carver series, particularly My Sister the Moon.

It was part of my middle school/junior high reading curriculum but I honestly DID really like The Diving Bell by Todd Strasser. Even if the cover art of Culca coming up out of the ocean looked A LOT like me and resulted in my class calling me Culca for the entirety of our unit on that book. It's fine. Culca is a badass queen of pearls and seawater so I'm happy to be associated with her~!

Every now and then I remember a book that clearly really resonated with my as a child if I still remember it, but the problem is that I don't remember the title or the author, or even any of the characters' names. It was about a Roma girl who lived in the American south - I wanna say Tennesee? - who was discovered for her talent playing guitar and singing country music. The book essentially details her struggle between her traditional roots as a Roma person, including the arrangement for her to be married young, and her interest in pursuing music as a career but feeling alienated by an industry and a society at large that is wealthier than her and has a different culture from her own. The book ends with her running away but it isn't made clear what her ultimate fate is. To this DAY it bothers me that I don't remember the title or the author because I honestly go through periods where I want to reread it. And yes, this was the kind of stuff I was reading as a child. XD I also read My Sister the Moon for the first time when I was like. 11 years old. If you're familiar with the content of that book then you're aware that certain scenes are really not 11-year-old friendly, but. If I can watch gratuitous 80's slasher horror at age 4 then I can read about a young woman surviving sexual abuse at age 11.

17. favorite pastime? Writing at this rate, honestly. Which probably speaks more to my inner tortured artist than anything else. XD

18. do you have any regrets? I feel like everybody has at least one regret and anyone who says otherwise is either very very young, or lying. XD It's not about whether you have regrets, it's about not letting them hold you in the past.

19. dream job? Telling stories, in any and every way attainable to me.

20. would you like to get married someday? I already am~

21. would you like to have kids someday? Absolutely not. I don't feel like my life is conducive to childrearing, and INB4 "you're never truly ready" and "you make it work" the key factor here is I'm not WILLING to become ready and I'm not WILLING to make it work. That's how I know my life is not conducive to childrearing. XD (I'm at that age where tons of people are asking me this and feeding me words meant to encourage me to consider and it's honestly EXHAUSTING by this point. I can't wait for when I'm menopausal maybe people will finally shut up about it because I'll be past my prime~)

23. do you like shopping? I mean, yes, but I usually avoid it because I'm aware of how impulsive I am.

24. what countries have you visited? I'm tempted to say that Hawaii should count because it's so far away from the mainland. XD But honestly I've never been outside of US territory. It's in the plans to try for Japan during the Tokyo 2020 Olympics. I'm not sure if we'll make that goal but if not, I figure it won't hurt to continue saving up anyway and making a Tokyo trip post-Olympics. Prices will be cheaper post-Olympics, anyway, so~

25. what’s the scariest nightmare you’ve ever had? At the risk of raising weird red flags I've gone through periods where I'll have reoccurring nightmares about being actively pursued by someone who very obviously intends to do harm. It happens often enough that the Honey wonders if I'm mentally suppressing something. XD I did have a standalone dream though, where me and the Honey were asleep in bed and then I become aware that someone's broken into the house and is approaching our bed. I'm walking through every possible option in my head with my eyes shut; if the Honey and I both lunged at the attacker we could possibly overpower them just because it would be two against one. But I know that I can't possibly wake up the Honey and make him aware of the situation without the attacker immediately acting and resulting in at least one of us being injured or killed. I realize that I have no choice but to try and take the attacker by surprise by myself and hope that is enough. I make peace with that. I can feel the attacker leaning over me. I suddenly lunge at them in full primal adrenaline-filled rage.

I wake up.

26. do you have any enemies? I guess that I have a few, yes, but honestly at this point I've gotten probably a little too used to being vilified. Barring physical assault or turning the animosity on innocent third parties in my life, I am prepared to weather the metaphorical lashes.

27. do you have an s/o? I have my Honey~

28. do you believe in miracles? I believe in miracles that aren't the overt surface-level wish-fulfillment-from-above which I think most people expect a miracle to be. I think that sometimes luck plays out via a slim-to-none chance and that can be a miracle. I think that sometimes a person works very hard at something or for something and when they achieve it, that can be a miracle. I think that the butterfly effect is a double-edged sword, but sometimes that little flutter of a butterfly's wings is a miracle.

Tagging: @yacky-jackie @halorecoil @anagraves @benevolentqueenofstars @lesbomancy @candybunnieholic @lemonedscream @tinathefish

#questionaire

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that-curly-haired-lesbian · 7 years ago

Note

Hey! Could you possibly do a queer reading into Dear John and how it could possibly be about coming out?

Dear John…I-I mean @ryanprettyboyrossI just wanted to start out by telling you that I’ve been excited about writingthis forever,but then depression sucker-punched me in the soul and put a stop to all mywriting (academic or otherwise) for literal weeks and when I finally got out ofthat there was a ton of essay to write… fuuuuun! 🙃🙃🙃

Anywayyyy, I’m out ofmy funk and just wanted to let you know that ever since you sent me this askages ago I’ve been intrigued by it.

I thank you all foryour patience during my absence and hope that this analysis was worth the wait! 😊

Dear John is one of my absolute favorite Taylor songs and in myopinion one of her most underrated, but solid works lyrics-wise.

In it I think hertalents as a poet and writer really shines through (friendlyreminder that Tay wrote the whole Speak Nowalbum by herself at 19 *cries in pride*) and for that I adore the freaking sparkleout of the song in question.

However, as I’vepreviously mentioned in asks and the like, for me it’s also always been one ofthe most interesting and complex ones to analyze. I’ve always kind of assumed Dear John is one of those songs that isnot what it seems.

My theory for a longtime has been that it’s some kind of metaphor describing queer identity andexperience and then you came along and placed this coming-out-narrative in mylap. Thank you very much, by asking me to stick to that thesis you’ve made myjob a lot easier, otherwise this analysis would’ve been all over the place withpossible theories! 😊

So let’s talk aboutthis for a sec, the majority of the fandom seem to assume it’s a song writtenabout the conveniently named John Meyer with whom Taylor was allegedly in arelationship from December 2009-February 2010. Meyer even went along with thatnarrative claiming the song “humiliated” him (x) to which Taylor responded thathe was being presumptuous in blatantly assuming the song to be about him. (x)

While therelationship did last for Taylor’s bearding-standard of 3 months a lot ofGaylors do seem convinced that Meyer was Taylor’s one (at least post-fame) non-PRboyfriend, for my personal thoughts on that please read this ask. (x)

Meyer may be namedJohn and the timeline during which the song was written may fit with thetimeline of whatever was going on between him and Taylor (PR or otherwise) but “DearJohn” as a phrase or title has a history longer than that.

Perhaps what most contemporary people think of(besides the Taylor song, provided they have any musical taste at all 😊)when hearing the phrase is the 2010 movie by the same name (it possibly cameout right around the time Tay was writing the song and we do know she likesromantic movies, so she may very well have found her inspiration there) whichin turn is based on the 2006 novel by Nicholas Sparks.

Another perhaps lessknown use of the phrase is the so called “Dear John letter.”

It refers to a wifeor girlfriend writing her husband/boyfriend a letter while he’s in themilitary, the letter is written to inform him that his partner has foundsomeone else and wants to break up/divorce, the phrase dates back to at leastWorld War II.

Wikipedia defines a “DearJohn letter” simply as “a break-up letter to an absent boyfriend or husband.”(x)

That does indeed seemto fit the bill for the song, Taylor sings to a “John” that is no longer a partof her life and informs him why the relationship had to end. (This song is to let you know why.”)

So, if the song isn’tabout John Meyer at all and we were just encouraged to think so, who or what isit really about?

Well, John is apretty common all-American name, in fact it was so common during the WWII erathat it was picked specifically to be a placeholder name when referring tobreakup letters addressed to solders (“Dear John letters.”) I think it’spossible that Taylor is using this pretty generic name as a placeholder too.

In the context of hersong “John” is the set of rules, ideas and practices (such as bearding) put inplace within the music/entertainment industry (specifically the country scene)to systematically closet performers to “save” or benefit their careers. 🤮

Long story short, Ibelieve “John” to be the heteronormativity and societal pressures to conform tosaid normativity which is keeping our singer in the closet. If you will, “John”is her own internalized homophobia which is stopping her from publicly comingout.

That being said thisis just an idea (cred to the asker, @ryanprettyboyross of course) on what thesong may be about, I personally have thought up many a theory regarding thisone in my time and everyone else is free to do so as well.

Credit for the lyricsbeing used goes to AZLyrics as usual; you all know the drill by now.

Without further ado,let’s get analyzin’

–

Long were the nights when

My days once revolved around you

Counting my footsteps

Praying the floor won’t fall through, again

–

Let’s have a look at these opening lines, Taylorclaims to have difficulty sleeping, this is because her life (or “her days” akaher every waking moment) revolves around pleasing someone who isn’t herself.

Her days revolve around living up to the perfect image of America’s LittleHeterosexual Sweetheart™ that her team as well as her masses of adoringconservative fans built for her.

She can’t truly be herself and has to be careful whatshe does, what she says and how she acts. A feeling I’m sure many closetedpeople are more familiar with than they’d like.

She watches her every steps, every movement, everyword very carefully as to not accidentally out herself. She prays that peoplewon’t catch on and she’ll fall from her country princess throne (or through thedelicate floor of heteronormativity she has to constantly step on) and ruin herown career.

That constant fear is stressful for anyone who iscloseted, but must be so on an evendeeper level for someone who’s so public and simultaneously so deep in thecloset. A sad fate for such a young, talented artist and quite frankly it devastatesme to think about it in any greater detail. 💔

–

And my mother accused me of losing my mind

But I swore I was fine

–

Taylor must feel lonely to say the least, essentiallybeing required to refrain from being herself and hiding her truth, but one can atleast hope she has the unwavering support of her family and close friends towhom I think it’s safe to assume she’s out and has been for quite a long time. (Probably at least since high school, maybeeven earlier? My point is that she was most likely out to at least the family,if not to most of her friends long pre-fame.)

Her mother is mentioned here and my interpretation ofthe line is that Andrea is starting to see what the constant bearding andheteronormativity is doing to her daughter.

Perhaps she worries that Taylor is truly losing hersense of self and inquires whether the oldest of her children feels the PRgames have gone too far and if she wants to stop it and publicly come out? Afterall, Taylor’s parents raised her in a family free from homophobia if we’re tobelieve Taylor herself.

Taylor however reassures her mother that it’s fine;it’s all just a necessary part of the job and a small price to pay to get tolive her professional dream.

Chely Wright, a lesbian country singer who was closetedin the industry for a long time wrote the following in her book, Like Me: Confessions of a Heartland CountrySinger:

“I’d made a dealwith God early on that I’d go without love in my life, just give me music” (x)and I think that’s a pretty universal mindset among closeted musicians.

The chance to have music and performance andcreativity in one’s life is worth giving up on a happy and truthful personallife for. As long as you get to practice your art any personal sacrifices don’tmatter, or at least they’re not supposed to. Taylor promised her mother thiswas the case for her as much as anyone else.

–

You paint me a blue sky

And go back and turn it to rain

–

Here I think Taylor’s describing what this idea islike in theory, the idea of a fruitful career with hordes of adoring fans andcommercial success is all she ever dreamed of ever since she was a little girlwho repeatedly begged her parents to relocate the family to Nashville.

In practice though, it turns out Nashville is a prettyscary place for a young, gay singer, in fact the community there is viciouslyhomophobic. (x) Something that probably became apparent to Taylor pretty soon.

The perfect dream of country music stardom wasTaylor’s blue sky, but pretty soon it had been turned to rain by the systematichomophobia in the community she now found herself a part of.

–

And I lived in your chess game

But you changed the rules everyday

–

PR is a lot like chess, it’s one thoroughly thoughtout move after another, but instead of getting your opponent’s queen you moveand strategize in the hopes to please the general public with its conservativecountry fans. Not only them, but also producers, record labels and PR teams allcommitted to keeping the public image of heterosexuality, the one that sells andkeeps their artists afloat in the mainstream.

Taylor does her best to keep up with these moves andcountermoves, but it confuses her and she feels like what is expected of herchanges from day to day thus causing her to struggle with keeping up. Whatshe’s allowed to do, say and sing all changes constantly to adapt to the latestPR strategy and Taylor feels lost and helpless in the machinery that is theeconomy of homophobia, like a pawn lost on a giant chessboard.

–

Wonderin’ which version of you I might get on the phone,tonight

Well I stopped pickin’ up and this song is to let youknow why

–

Who is she talking about here then?

Well, I think this line is describing her relationshipto Team Taylor. I am assuming a kid like Taylor has had extensive mediatraining on how “not to appear gay” or whatever *puke* so if she messes up shelikely knows she’s going to get a call from her publicist.

Sometimes I’m sure that phone call wasn’t all toonice, as we’ve discussed before it seems Taylor’s publicist from her youngerdays was a very big fan of having Taylor stay in the closet, so if Taylor daredto publicly venture out of it in even the smallest of ways I’m sure she’d knowwhy that wasn’t advisable by the end of the night.

I’m not saying Taylor’s publicist was homophobic ornasty or mean, because obviously I don’t know that. I’m saying however, that I’msure she did what she thought was necessary to protect Taylor’s career andimage (aka to keep her safely closeted.)

I’m also not saying Taylor literally stopped pickingup or started ignoring her publicist, I think what the “stopped pickin’up-line” means is that perhaps she stopped listening, or at least she stoppedletting what was said get to her.

The song as she mentions was written to let “you” knowwhy it is that she stopped listening.

I don’t think“you” is the publicist, I actually think that “you” here is a more general you,as in all of the people who tried to get Taylor to understand that homophobiais just a given part of the music industry.

This is the song where Taylor says she’ll keep goingalong with their games, at least for the time being, but she’s had enough ofthe self-hatred.

As young gay people I think we’re all familiar withhow being constantly surrounded by homophobia, be it from our parents,classmates, or just society in general (or you know, a conservative musicindustry) keeps us from truly accepting ourselves.

We may very well be aware that we’re gay, but we don’thave to like it, we can wish it away and hate ourselves for feeling what we’refeeling. (Chely Wright’s Wish Me Away,anyone?)

Dear John isthe turning point for Taylor, she decides that no matter what anyone else saysand the fact that she has to stay in the closet, she can still love herself andbe okay with who she is, at least within herself. Just because she’s goingalong with the bearding and the heteronormativity doesn’t mean she has toapprove of it, she doesn’t need to hate herself just because it seems everyoneelse does. Somehow there’s strength in that heartbreak, I think.

–

Dear John, I see it all now that you’re gone.

Don’t you think I was too young

To be messed with?

–

As the chorus comes around Taylor addresses her owninternalized homophobia (who she’s apparently named John, perhaps becausesociety expects her to conform to their heteronormativity and end up with aJohn, a generic cishet boy) for the first time.

Now that her internalized homophobia/“John” is goneand she’s realized she doesn’t have hate herself she’s starting to see howfucked up it was that she ever did in the first place.

Many on thissite have discussed the fact that a pre-fame Taylor didn’t seem scared ofappearing gay, but it seems sometime after her mainstream recognition there wasa shift and she started fearing her gay side.

The heteronormative, homophobic values within theindustry truly messed with her, as she chose to word it. She went from out andproud to closeted and terrified.

She brings her age into the conversation, asking ifshe wasn’t too young to be messed with?

It seems that Taylor is as livid as me when it comesto the prospect of society teaching kids to internalize homophobia andself-hatred.

She wasn’t brought up that way (x) but she came tolearn that she was supposed to be ashamed of who she was as soon as she wastold by the people in the industry, the very people who were supposed to lookout for her that she had to sing about boys and “not act gay” if she everwanted to get on the radio or reach mainstream success.

–

The girl in the dress

Cried the whole way home, I should’ve known.–

The “girl-in-the-dress-line” is interesting to me andperhaps it is the line that resonates most with me in this entire song.

As someone who’s all too familiar with being forced toact feminine and wear dresses and being guilty of constantly policing their ownbody language as to not “act too gay” or “too un-feminine” I can say that I seemuch of myself in that person who wants to rip their pretty dress to shreds,but just ends up crying about it when no one can see instead.

Why? Well, making a public statement and refusing towear the dress would mean taking a step out from the shadow of thatinternalized self-hatred.

Admittedly though, I struggle with dysphoria which I’massuming (or rather hoping since I wouldn’t wish it on anyone) Taylor hasn’t. Despitethis I would say that being uncomfortable in dresses and “not being yourtypical princess” (to borrow a phrase from Taylor) isn’t limited to those of uswho aren’t actually girls, there are girls and women who aren’t comfortablewith being feminine or with wearing stereotypically feminine clothes (“she wears short skirts, I wear t-shirts”)and I’ve previously spoken of how I suspect Taylor to be one of them. (x)

Obviously I can’t know that for sure, but I feel thatperhaps Taylor is a lot less feminine than she publicly lets on and that’swhere this dress-line comes in.

With its beer and its cowboy hats and manly men Iwould assume that in addition to being at least implicitly homophobic thecountry music scene is also fairly dependent on gender roles, meaning that forsomeone like Taylor that means dresses and boys and makeup galore.

In my analysis of NewRomantics I mentioned that attending some event with a boy she barely knewand a pretty dress must’ve felt incredibly alienating at times to a young starwho’s just started understanding the perceived necessity of bearding andheteronormativity in this industry. So alienating in fact that I wouldn’t blameher for shedding a few tears from time to time, “mascara tears in the bathroom”as well as tears on the way home in a pretty dress she didn’t want to wear.

The dress couldalso be a metaphor of course, one to describe the heteronormative role she’dbeen forced into with all the bearding and femininity. A metaphor that’s saying“the girl you made look so pretty on the outside felt so ugly and ashamed onthe inside” the girl in the pretty dress that appeared to have it all couldn’t bringherself to be truly happy. (Lucky One, anyone?)

Lastly she’s saying she should’ve known this would bethe outcome of entering the industry, she should’ve known it had been naive tothink she could continue to be her authentic self while also being mainstreamfamous.

–

Well maybe it’s me

And my blind optimism to blame

Or maybe it’s you and your sick need

To give love then take it away

–

Whose fault is it, then, that poor Taylor is somiserable?

Well, she suggests, maybe it’s her own for being sonaively optimistic and thinking that staying closeted wouldn’t feel like a bigdeal as long as she got to work with music. Or maybe it’s the industry’s faultfor adoring and praising her as long as she followed their set of rules, buttaking that love away the moment she started to break the rules, not to mentionthreatening to take the fame away entirely should she ever dare come out. It’ssick says Taylor, how two-faced these so-called “fans” and “supporters” are andI wholeheartedly agree!

–

And you’ll add my name to your long list of traitorswho don’t understand

And I’ll look back in regret how I ignored when theysaid,

“Run as fast as you can.”

–

We’ve talked about “gender traitors” before, a termthat shows up in Margaret Atwood’s TheHandmaid’s Tale from 1985 (as well as the excellent 2017 HBO series) aswell as in a bunch of feminist course lit I’m familiar with, to describe homosexualsand primarily homosexual women.

I know Taylor likes classical literature, but I can’tbe sure if she’s read that one, although I hope so since it’s brilliant!

Anyway, regardless of her reading habits I don’t thinkthe term is what Taylor’s referring to here. I think she’s simply saying theindustry will blacklist her. Put her on a list of traitors to the industry whoaren’t committed to upholding the order and the rules and doesn’t understandwhy it’s necessary to keep the environment so conservative and unaccepting.

In other words,were she to ever come out the country music community would freeze her out.This seems to be a real fear among those in the closet in Nashville and Chely Wright spoke about it at length. (x)

Someone seems to have warned Taylor not to getinvolved with the bearding and the systematic closeting. Maybe it was hermother or someone else who saw the potential dangers of internalized hatredsuch a process would create within such a young girl and thus advised Taylor torefuse to conform and run far away from that homophobic nonsense before shelost her sense of self.

Taylor of course, didn’t listen she was too busyreaching for the dream of music she’d always wanted and now that she’s olderand wiser she of course regrets letting the closeting process be the price shepaid for it all, but she was young and thought the adults who told her to goback in the closet knew what was best. Now of course, she wished she would’verun and taken steps to be an out artist from the start, instead of going usualroute of forced closeting and aggressive hetero marketing.

–

(Chorus)

–

Dear John, I see it all now it was wrong

Don’t you think nineteen’s too young

To be played by your dark, twisted games?

When I loved you so, I should’ve known.

–

At one point in time Taylor obviously had a real andvery strong love for country music (and given the fact that she still occasionallyghost-writes a country hit or two I’d say she still does) but here she addresses“John” who now seems to be the country music industry itself and says shethinks she was too young to be dragged into the systematic homophobia thatlives rampant within that industry. She loved the music so much, she loved thepeople and the aesthetic, but the dark side of the industry in Nashville was anunfair price to pay for that love Taylor reasons. Don’t forget that Dear John was on Speak Now the album that came before Red which in turn was the first album where Taylor definitelystarted leaning more towards pop music.

She’s said that Red wasn’t “sonically cohesive” and there seems to be a reasonfor that, Red wanted to be pop, butTaylor didn’t yet dare to fully take the leap that’d later come with 1989 and leave country behind, so Red became a mixture of Taylor’s desireto break free from country music and her very strong love for it, a toxicrelationship indeed, with the country music industry.

Nonetheless I think Dear John was Tay’s breakup song for country music, Red was the first step towards leavingthat industry behind and Dear John waswhen she first decided it was time to do so and shake off (sorry I couldn’t resist) that homophobic environment.

–

You are an expert at “Sorry”

And keeping lines blurry

Never impressed by me acing your tests

–

She laments some more about the rules and the peoplewithin the country music “machine” (as Wright refers to it) she says they’revery good at not personally being homophobic, it’s like when someone says “Ihave nothing against you gays, BUT” the industry at large and perhaps mostlythe people within it who work close to Taylor claim that they wish things couldbe different, but that the homophobic structure in the music industry is necessaryto uphold it or whatever. They’re basically experts at making excuses for whyhomophobia is so deeply ingrained in Nashville and country communities ingeneral. They keep the lines blurry between claiming they’re keeping Taylorcloseted to protect her from the homophobia exuded by fans and parts of themusic industry and by doing it because they themselves are blatantly homophobicand scared Taylor will stop making them money if she comes out.

It’s the sortof situation where you think “Are they doing this to protect me or to protectthemselves?”

Taylor plays her role perfectly, she has everyoneconvinced she’s as straight as they come and yet Team Taylor don’t seem happy,they have more hoops for her to jump through and more strategies with which tokeep her locked in the closet and they never seem 100% happy with Taylor’s “StraightPerformance (aka her “Acing their tests”)

–

All the girls that you’ve run dry have tired lifelesseyes

Cause you’ve burned them out

–

Then she goes on to mention other people who are inthe closet and work in country music, or in Hollywood, people (and here,specifically other women) whose closeting processes are so far along that theyhave just accepted they’ll never be able to come out and live as their trueselves. Girls who have accepted this is just their lives now.

The girls who go into lavender marriages and just dealwith it, no one being able to spot just how dead they are behind the eyes,except for a young, fellow gay who’s terrified she’ll end up like them. End uplike the women the entertainment industry has already ran dry and ensnared in their PR gamesto the point where they see no way out, girls who are so closeted they’ll taketheir truths to their graves.

–

But I took your matches

Before fire could catch me

So don’t look now

I’m shining like fireworks

Over your sad empty town

–

It might be too late for those girls, Taylor pointsout, but not for me, not yet. By writing this song she’s taking the firsttentative step towards stopping her own closeting process. She won’t let theindustry dampen her passion for music or her will to be herself, she’s stoppedthem now, or at least she’s going to, they’re going to witness her succeed evenwhile breaking out of that tightly locked closet. She’ll shine like (colorful… 🌈🌈) fireworks over the sad reality that is homophobia and bearding.

–

(Chorus)

–

I see it all now that you’re gone

Don’t you think I was too young

To be messed with?

The girl in the dress

Wrote you a song, you should’ve known.

–

Now that she’s decided to slowly but surely leave itbehind she can see how messed up systematic closeting is, especially when doneto someone so young and hopeful as herself.

The girl they dressed up andfeminized, hetero-proofed™ against her will when she was still too young toknow any better wrote them all a song about how messed up they are.

They should’ve known she wasn’t like the others and wouldn’tlet herself be trapped and limited, go Taylor!! 🌈🌈🌈

–

So perhaps the way I wrotethat didn’t frame the song in so much a coming-out-narrative as an it’s-okay-to-want-to-come-out-narrativeand it’s okay to take tiny steps towards that goal while simultaneouslyflipping off everyone who want to stop you. 🌈

Hope you alllike that idea of this song. 😊

I can’t promiseanything, but I’m hopefully back now as my essay is due next Friday, whereupon Ishall have more time to hang out here and talk to you guys and do analysis regularlyagain! (Hopefully every Sunday)

I’ve really missed itas well as all of you, so if you guys have requests for songs to be analyzed inthe future or just questions for me about Kaylor, Gaylor or anything else, myaskbox is open! 😊

Next song to be analyzedaccording to my list is Fearless! 💃🌈

#gaylor swift #kaylor #songs #queer analysis #asks

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sol1056 · 7 years ago

Text

followup on shiro

following up on my post about stereotypes, and now to talk specifically about Shiro... First off, he’s got too many unusual elements to be a stereotype. My suspicion is the problem you’re asking about has its roots in the EPs/writers thinking it’d be slick to play with story conventions, and didn’t realize their mistake until too late. It’s the most likely reason for their bewilderment that a not-insignificant chunk of the fandom assumed the story would be Lance-centric.

It’s not stereotypes. It’s more like a movie’s opening shots making you think it’s a Dracula movie, and you’re like, cool, except halfway through the movie forgets about Draclua to focus on his valet. You’re gonna be mighty pissed if you’d settled in for Dracula and suddenly you’re forced to watch some tertiary character mend buttonholes or press a dinner jacket until the credits roll.

Ultimately, what I think we have here is a conflict between conventions. The part of the audience brand-new to the story seems to also be the part using a pro-fic (published, original works) lens. The part of the audience who remembers some/most/all of the original story seems to be using a fanfic (derived works) lens. There’s a fundamental disconnect between the two, though, and both require seeing Shiro as expendable.

It’s a huge risk to mess with convention -- especially if your intended audience is less-savvy/younger. It takes seeing/reading a wide range of stories to roll with reversals and subversions. Kids just haven’t had the exposure. But all you really need is a viewer most comfortable with conventional storytelling patterns, and you’ll have a viewer who’ll feel betrayed when the show doesn’t meet those unspoken expectations.

Behind the cut: the conventions of prologues and character introductions, S1 with Lance as implied protagonist, S1 with Keith as expected protagonist, and why neither works with Shiro in the frame.

the conventions of prologues and character introductions

Basic rule of stories: introduce the core POV first. Although most often also the main character and the protagonist, that’s not necessarily so -- but it should be the character who’ll provide our ‘view’ of the story. It’s also the character who’ll go through the biggest arc, as a result of their experiences. Frex: Watson as core POV, while Holmes is main character; Aang is the hero but Katara’s arc as core POV is far larger.

A prologue bypasses this ‘first introduced’ assumption. If we get a series of quick scenes (or a cold opening) and then a jump to seemingly-unrelated location, a significant timeskip, or whole new characters, we’re going to think ‘prologue’ and start over.

VLD gives us prologue as background; the three characters are roughly equal. Sam speaks first, Matt is named first, Shiro has the bulk of screentime post-kidnapping. POV is mostly balanced between them. We’re given every reason to think them one-shot characters sacrificed to demonstrate the bad guys are really bad, and thus, our protagonist isn’t among them. So when we see the time/location stamp, we adjust and assume the story begins in earnest, here.

Rewatch the opening ten minutes or so. Here’s how we’d categorize the characters, based on when and how they’re introduced:

First to speak and be seen: Lance, protagonist/core POV.

Next to speak and be seen will be secondary characters. Either sidekicks like Hunk, or contagonists (signaled by mysterious agenda and/or low-key antagonism) like Pidge and later, Keith.

After that, antagonists like Iverson, and mentors/guides.

Since Shiro is narratively identified as the same guy from the prologue, his return means he’s someone experienced with the monomyth’s underworld setting. That makes Shiro the guide who delivers the call to adventure. If your knowledge of story structure is relatively conventional, the combination of Shiro’s return and his positioning in the introduction-order means you could freely write him off as a plot device, existing solely to gets the hero (and the rest) involved.

Except that’s not at all how it works out.

profic lens: Lance as implied protagonist

For most of S1, you could watch and assume the categories I listed above, without having your expectations challenged. There’s contagonist development (Pidge’s family vs Voltron), with Lance getting some shiny moments (protecting Coran, shooting Sendak). Sidekick development for Hunk and the Balmera; again, Lance stays in the foreground: flirting with Nyma, coming up with a non-psycho way to deal with the sentries in the Balmera. One could reasonably write these off as minor arcs befitting secondary characters, and that this story’s chosen to front-load those rather than show them later.

Meanwhile, Keith only surfaces as a foil (racing the lions, getting needled), and Shiro can be seen as a placeholder leader. Given Lance’s introduction, we could expect a predictable arc: he starts as less-competent or less-valued, and by story-end he’ll be a capable, valuable, leader. In this light, Shiro represents the stasis that’ll get broken when Lance moves into true hero position.

It wouldn’t have been hard to take this route: give Shiro a reason to stay with the rest when they infiltrate the space base, and have Lance go with Allura, instead. That would’ve put Lance at the emotional forefront, as the one she rescued. Follow that with Lance using Blue to break the station’s hull, and it’d close the circle with him rescuing Allura in turn. He’d move from core POV into main protagonist. Obvious next step is for Shiro to step down, the story would contrive for Lance to slide into place, and the remainder would focus on his growth.

fanfic lens: Keith as expected protagonist

Let’s circle back to the fact that of our core five, Keith is introduced last. This is a sharp break with profic convention but totally in line with fanfic convention. Fanfic doesn’t need to waste time introducing and establishing a protagonist when readers already know who it is from canon. As a result, fanfic frequently delays the main character’s appearance while the story introduces the side characters who’ll be playing roles in the story.

From this perspective, allotting time to Pidge and Hunk makes sense. Both have been greatly to moderately rewritten for this new version, so they get mini-arcs to showcase those changes. Viewers familiar with the original Voltron already have a ‘protagonist’ in their minds. They were probably confident that once that was of the way, that pre-existing protagonist would come to the forefront.

Those viewers were expecting Keith to become a plot-driver by the end of S1, which he does, somewhat. He’s the one who discovers the druids and quintessence plot point, after all, and he does it solo. The rest work jointly, which is common for secondary characters.

Note that once again, the obvious next step is for Shiro to step down, and the story should contrive for Keith to slide into place. Since the story’s also established a strong emotional bond between Keith and Shiro, it’s possible Shiro might stick around as a mentor. But still, if Keith’s going to claim the protagonist’s leadership position (per the source material), then Shiro’s got to vacate that slot.

the real problem: Shiro doesn’t fit either lens

If they’d taken the profic lens, we’d have Lance in Black by now. If they’d taken the fanfic lens, we’d have Keith in Black... which we did, but now we don’t, again. For either convention, the Ulaz arc should’ve happened in S1, as another two-parter. By its conclusion, Shiro would’ve been gone completely, or at least relegated to the background as a mentor.

But not only does Shiro never segue into that mentor-only role, he takes the lead, and holds it (and takes it back, too). And while he’s older than the rest by some amount (never fully defined, for inexplicable and frankly stupid reasons on the part of the EPs), he’s still not the seasoned adult; Coran fills that role. Shiro’s also visibly damaged inside and out, between his prosthetic and his struggles with PTSD -- and instead of returning with knowledge to impart per a guide, he returns with mostly questions and fuzzy guesses. On top of that, the narrative is quick to pit Shiro against Zarkon (although this is muddied by Keith taking on Zarkon solo, in the S1 finale).

And then in S2, Shiro provides almost all the plot movement. He remembers Ulaz, which sets off a chain of events (complicated by Zarkon, as much as that blunt-force character can complicate anything) that leads directly to the Marmora, the team’s first allies of note. The S2 finale pivots on Shiro, too; his recovery of Black’s bayard provides the last piece needed for the team to defeat Zarkon.

Shiro’s disappearance at the end of S2 comes late, relatively speaking, but still, here we finally have a vacancy for the protagonist to fill. Except not: the lack of finality -- the disappearance, rather than death -- means there’s no closure. (For a good example of this, see Gurren Lagann, where a main character’s death-speech grants closure and thus doubles the emotional gut-punch.) That means questions linger, shadowing anyone who fills the empty spot, and those questions effectively make Shiro even more central, despite his absence.

Any way you slice it, Shiro gets way too much noise for a secondary character. Especially if he’s meant to be a character that -- by conventional standards -- exists solely to validate, and give way to, the real protagonist’s leadership.

This went on too long, but of course now I have thoughts on what prompted the story structure to end up like this. Another followup coming soon, stay tuned.

#voltron legendary defender #voltron meta #writing #storytelling

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sage-nebula · 7 years ago

Note

In Mystic Messenger, it feel like all MCs from Good Ends are meant to be what the route owners want and need, their ideal MCs in a way. Like I could figure out the characters' preferences from their routes, but that's not the case with Saeyoung. He even said outright that his route MC (naive and obnoxious???) fit 707 the mask better than the real him. Sure, what he likes might not be what is right for him, but then that wouldn't be ideal. What do you think is Saeyoung's ideal MC?

While I agree with you that the minimal characterization MC has in Mystic Messenger varies depending on whose route you choose (in that MC has to behave a certain way to get the Good End for whatever character the player decides to pursue), I don’t really like using the word “ideal,” because I think that it makes MC less of a person and more of a fantasy. Which, I mean, don’t get me wrong, MC as she is in the game isn’t a character. She’s a placeholder, a blank slate; her purpose is for the player to project onto her, which is why she doesn’t have a stated canonical history, or any real personality to speak of. It’s also, as much as the fandom likes to meme about it, why she doesn’t have any eyes. “Eyes are the windows to the soul,” as the cliché goes, and by not giving her eyes Cheritz is showing us that MC doesn’t have a “soul” of her own, so to speak. Her soul is supposed to be our soul. She is supposed to be us.

With that said, as you probably know I grew extremely frustrated with MC during Saeyoung’s Route. I don’t feel that MC, as Cheritz writes her, is a good fit for him. I don’t think she’s what he needs, and in honesty I don’t even think she’s what he wants; she’s what he’s made to want because Cheritz had to make the relationship romantic by the end of the eleven days, and having him reject MC when she was being intrusive, pushy, and clingy would have made players upset. Rather than write an MC who would actually be good for Saeyoung (and thus be someone that he would naturally want to be with), they instead warped Saeyoung to force him to give into her, even if not the Manic Pixie Dream Girl™ version of her. And that, as you could imagine, was pretty disagreeable to me.

So when I say that I ship Saeyoung/MC, what I actually mean is that I ship Saeyoung and the MC that I created. I ship them as I write them, and I ship them based on the version of their story as I rewrite it (which deviates from canon during the apartment days, albeit not by too much, because honestly, it’s not that hard to fix). I’m happy to describe her, but I feel to get the full picture, you’re going to need some backstory. Well, that, and a picture; for reference, my MC (and the one that I imagine being with Saeyoung) is MC 4. This girl:

So with that said, let’s begin.

First, the backstory. How I have it, MC’s name actually is MC … as far as she knows, anyway. You see, sad backstories are par for the course in Mystic Messenger, and MC is no exception. When she was little (say, around nine or so), she was in an accident. It was a pretty major one; details are hazy, but as the story goes she was on a train with her parents, traveling somewhere, and the train derailed and crashed. MC was thrown clear of the train car; she somehow (quite miraculously!) survived without serious injuries, but she woke up on the ground, completely alone, with no memory of how she got there or where she was. It was quite frightening; she called out for help, but no one came. As a result of that, and since she could still walk, she picked herself up off the ground and, well … walked. When she located the train tracks, she followed them until she managed to make it back to a station. There, some adults found her, and they asked her where her parents were. She said, truthfully, that she didn’t know. They asked her what her name was. And she said, again truthfully, that she didn’t know … but then she said, “MC.” It was all she could remember. She didn’t think it was really right (it was sort of right, she thought, it felt right, just not … complete), but it was all she could think of, it was all she could remember. And the adults, in lieu of anything else to call her, went with it.

(In reality, her parents had named her Mi-Cha. Her father did a lot of business overseas, and so he had taught her how to write her name in English as well as Korean. She had thought the English letters looked funny, so she had a lot of fun writing them out … and since the M and C were capitals, those were the ones she remembered. Mi-Cha, MC. Head injuries can be funny like that, I suppose.)

Of course the adults at the station knew about the accident, but of the few survivors of the wreck, none of them laid claim to MC. MC didn’t recognize any of them, either. And so without any other options, particularly since MC couldn’t remember if she had any other family, the adults at the station turned her over to the police, who put her into foster care.

The foster families that MC had weren’t … bad, per se. She moved homes a lot, especially in the beginning as the system tried to put her front and center to see if they could find a family to adopt her. The thing is, they couldn’t; MC was already older than most children who get adopted by the time she entered the system, her name struck potential parents as odd and she wasn’t willing to change it, and the fact that she was not exactly the cute and sweet type didn’t help matters, either. So she changed homes a lot, until finally she found one that stuck. The home was … again, it wasn’t necessarily bad, but it … this particular foster home had a lot of kids. And as a result of having so many kids, the foster parents were … very strict. It was almost run like military barracks; there were always chores to do (a lot of them), and the foster mother in particular was rarely satisfied with the job that was done. As MC grew, the fact that she was very independent and mouthy really didn’t earn her favors with the foster parents. It also didn’t earn her favors with potential adoptive parents. And though it could likely be guessed, it didn’t earn her favors with her foster siblings, either. MC spent about two years in that home before she decided she had enough, and decided to take matters into her own hands. In this case, “matters” meant robbing a little safe that was in the study one night while everyone was sleeping, and—with all the cash she could carry and a backpack of clothes on her back—running away.

MC was fourteen.

She was fourteen, but even at fourteen she knew that it wouldn’t be wise to stay in the same city, so she used some of the money she stole to get a train to skip town. (The second she boarded the train, she felt like she was going to suffocate. It was anxiety—she was having a panic attack. But she couldn’t remember the accident that had killed her parents and left her an orphan, so she told herself this reaction was stupid and forced herself to suck it up.) She rode the train a couple towns over, and then decided that it would be best to lay low for a while, to make sure no cops were going to come look for her. Unfortunately, she was a fourteen-year-old with only a wad of cash, no diploma (since she was now a … she might not have even finished middle school), and no way of getting a job. This meant that she was now homeless. But MC figured, well, in a way she had been homeless ever since her parents died, since the foster homes never really felt like home to her. She had always known that they were going to be temporary. So she could do this. She could. She would do this.

It wasn’t easy.

MC had, at least, the foresight to run away in the spring, so it wasn’t too cold out. But she had a lot of nights curled up on porches so she could avoid the rain. She was able to buy food, at least, with what money she had, but because she had a limited amount of money she sometimes resorted to stealing fruit from market stalls, and she really wasn’t very good at it at first. After a time she managed to find a church, and the people there helped her. They gave her food, at least, because they felt bad, but any time they started to ask questions about her family life, she always made sure to beat a hasty retreat. She was still afraid the cops would arrest her if they found out that she had stolen the money from the foster home and booked it, after all. In her mind, she was a fugitive. She didn’t want to push her luck.

But the church was warm (enough), and safe, so she stayed there a lot, even though she technically wasn’t supposed to. It wasn’t hard; she would hide in a bathroom stall until the church was locked up for a night, and then sleep on one of the pews. The church had a communal bathroom, with a shower and everything, so that helped her keep clean. And so long as she made sure to duck out of the way and retreat back to the bathroom whenever she heard the church doors open in the morning, she could avoid being caught. It was a foolproof plan. MC was pretty sure it wasn’t a problem that she had dropped out of school. Clearly, she was smart enough without it.

This continued on for about two, maybe three, years. And then, when she was about seventeen, she met Byungho.

Byungho was a businessman about five years her senior (so, around twenty-two) who came to the church every so often. MC didn’t talk to him at first; she made it a practice of not talking very much with others, because again, when she talked to people, they tended to ask questions, and that was something she wanted to avoid. But he took notice of her anyway, given that she was frequently in the church, and so one day, he struck up conversation with her. It was light, innocent; he asked her what her name was, commented that “MC” was a rather odd name to have. He tried to make small talk, and she made an excuse to get out of it. But the next time she saw him, he tried talking to her again. And the time after that, and the time after that. And on the fifth time, he invited her to go get lunch with him—his treat.

MC felt that it was probably a bad idea. But she was hungry, and he seemed nice enough all the times she talked with him, so … what the heck. She went.

As it turns out, Byungho seemed quite nice. He seemed that way. They went to a restaurant and had lunch, and he confessed that he thought she was quite pretty. MC, as a seventeen-year-old homeless girl, was caught pretty off-guard by this. Had he … was he blind? Her clothes were shabby and ill-fitting, since by now they were donations from people at the church. Her hair was unkempt, and cut unevenly since she had cut it herself. She had acne. She never got enough to eat, so she was underweight. Like, honestly … had he seen her? But he insisted that she was pretty, and that he liked her, and that he wanted to spend more time with her. And she, well … she couldn’t remember the last time she had heard such kindness. It was flattering, and it made her feel good, so she accepted the compliments. And when he said he would drive her home, she confessed that she was staying at the church, because she had nowhere else to go.

And that was when he invited her to come stay with him.

The good news is that it wasn’t hard for MC to move into his apartment, because all she had was her backpack of worldly possessions. The bad news is that Byungho was not nearly so nice as he seemed. Sure, he seemed nice at first; he treated her kindly at first. But you know … that’s how they get you. And that’s how he got her. It didn’t take very long for things to get bad. At first it was little things, like he was irritated that she hadn’t prepared dinner for him by the time he came home from work, as he felt a good girlfriend should (particularly one that was staying with him for free). But then it escalated. His annoyance turned to anger, turned to violence. And his expectations from her, as his girlfriend, kept mounting.

MC tried to stick it out at first. This was better than being homeless, she told herself. His apartment was nice. He wasn’t home all the time. He had to work during the day. And maybe this was what girlfriends did. She didn’t know, she had never been anyone’s girlfriend before. And who else would want her? He had wanted her when she was just a grungy, scrawny homeless girl. No one else would have wanted her. This was … this was as good as she was going to get, so she should suck it up, and maybe she could learn to like it.

Of course, she never did. It would be impossible for anyone to like that.

She stayed there for about a year and a half before she hit her breaking point. Really, in honesty, she had hit her breaking point before that; while Byungho was at work, she would spend her time on the internet, trying to learn whatever skills she could so that she could get a job. Most places required some kind of degree, but call centers (and particularly international call centers) didn’t seem to (and even if they did, MC felt maybe she could forge one). International call centers did require some kind of English competency, though, so she did her best to try to learn at least basic English on the internet. And when she finally hit the last straw, well … she did what she does best.

She waited until he was at work, and until he had been there for a couple hours and thus wouldn’t double back. Then she robbed the safe he had in the apartment, stuffed all that cash and her worldly possessions into her backpack, and got the hell out of dodge.

Once again, she hopped a train (panic attack or no panic attack, it wasn’t worse than the Hell she was escaping) and skipped town, this time because she was terrified he would find her if she didn’t. This is how she ended up in the city where Mystic Messenger takes place. By this time she was eighteen or nineteen, so although she was homeless once again, she decided that she wasn’t just going to be homeless this time. Instead, she purchased herself a pay-as-you-go cell phone, and used a local library’s public computer to put in applications at whatever places in the area were hiring, as well as applying at various businesses around. Fortune was on her side; she got hired at a tech support call center (international; she spoke just enough English to secure the position), and after a month of working there, she was able to use her first paycheck and the money she still had after robbing Byungho to buy a small, modest apartment.

MC managed to keep this up for about four years, and in honesty, it was the happiest she had ever been in her life. Oh sure, she had to forge a couple documents in order to make it work, given that she didn’t have a state issued ID and was terrified of being on any sort of radar that Byungho might find if he looked hard enough (plus she was technically still a minor at eighteen, so she lied about her age and said she was twenty so that her employers or landlord wouldn’t think to alert the foster care system), but that was nothing that a library computer and dedicated research couldn’t help her do. Plus, the call center she worked at wasn’t exactly prestigious, and neither was her apartment. Her employers were just happy to have someone else on the phones. Her landlord was happy to have a quiet tenant. It was fine—great, even. She was able to have a nice little flat, she was able to be regularly fed, there was no one there to abuse her, she had steady income. Everything was great.

… until about six months before Mystic Messenger took place.

As I said, MC maintained this lifestyle for four years. She did so off the grid (i.e. no social media; Saeyoung lies through his teeth when he says he found her Facebook, because she doesn’t have a Facebook, because she’s not giving Byungho any way to find her), but she still did it. But six months before Mystic Messenger takes place, her call center went under. There was no explanation for it that MC could see; one day she had a job, and the next it was out of business. She was unemployed. Completely jobless, and definitely in trouble.

For two months, she tried finding a new job, but the job market was … not good. It was a wonder she got hired so quickly the last time; this time, it was like nowhere was hiring. She had money saved up, so for two months she was fine … but she could see that her savings were going to dwindle fast. MC felt she had two options: she could stay there until she was evicted with nothing, or she could leave when her lease ended and wait until she got a new job to get a new apartment.

She took option two, figuring it was safest.

She sold off her furniture for extra money and, hating everything, hit the streets once again. Fortunately, she wasn’t on the streets for very long; there was an apartment building she knew of on the other side of town that, well … it wasn’t in the greatest condition, honestly. Practically no one lived there. But the plus side of this was that no one would notice if someone was squatting, at least if the squatter was careful. So MC took advantage of this. Specifically, she took advantage of an unused, unlockable storage closet up on one of the higher floors. It was a walk-in storage closet, with threadbare carpeting and a bare bulb, but it was enough. It was enough, especially since there was a rec center with public bathrooms (+showers) right behind the apartment building. It was temporary, anyway, MC told herself. She would use her pay-as-you-go phone and find herself a new job. Once she had a new job, she would get a new apartment. She wouldn’t be homeless for long. She did it once before, and she could do it again. She would do it again.

But as the months—four of them, to be specific—wore on, it became more and more difficult to remain upbeat and optimistic.

She had been homeless before, so she could do it again. And she did. She told herself that her storage closet was a studio apartment. She told herself that she would get herself someplace nice. But the job market was just not good, and since her old place of employment was just gone it wasn’t even like she had a reference despite working solidly for four years. In honesty, MC felt like she was at an all-time low, even as she told herself (over, and over, and over again) that she had to stay optimistic, because if she let herself get depressed (or rather, if she acknowledged that she was depressed), then it would just make the whole situation worse. She she tried to combat her sense of hopelessness and depression with aggressive optimism. She tried very, very hard.

And that … that was when she met Unknown.

More specifically: In lieu of any callbacks about jobs, MC browsed the app store on her cheap phone, looking for something to amuse herself with. She came across a free app called “Mystic Messenger” with a blank icon. It caught her eye, and honestly … she couldn’t say why it did. But it did. So, figuring that maybe it was a dating app or something else she could waste time with, she figured “what the heck” and downloaded it. Sitting there in her little “studio apartment,” she downloaded it, because she was depressed and bored and had nothing else better to do since no one was calling her back about a job.

And that was how she met Unknown.

Make no mistake, she gave him hell. She interrogated him about his name. She interrogated him about why he was so obsessed with returning a phone to its owner. She called him on his vague non-answers. And oh, you better believe she trolled the hell out of him. It got to the point where he ended up getting rather irate and snappy with her during their exchange, his patience clearly lost as he tried to get her to agree to go to some stranger’s apartment, and honestly … she strongly considered just saying “no u” and deleting the app. She did. But it was only 6pm. She had nowhere to be, and nothing to do. And while she was now a far cry from the naive teenager who had taken a man at his word—while she was now a much smarter twenty-two or twenty-three-year-old—she figured … well. She had nothing else better to do. She had nothing worth stealing save the sparse clothes, money, and other basic toiletries in her backpack. And even if he was going to be lying in wait, waiting to rape and murder her, well, she could fight back. And even if she couldn’t, it’s not like she had anyone who would miss her, anyway.

So she figured, what the heck, and she went.

As it turns out, Unknown didn’t try to rape and murder her (although, as she pretended not to see the door lock, and he once again grew terse through the texts, she had the strangest feeling that he was … but that was stupid, he couldn’t be watching her. But all the same, she stopped trolling after a bit), but he did want her to go into the apartment. And MC, against her better judgment (because this was a stranger’s house, what if the cops were called on her?) … well, again. Nothing better to do, and a creepy feeling of eyes on the back of her neck. So she did. She entered the apartment.

And that was when she met the RFA.

Now, you have to understand: MC was more than a little bemused as she joined this group chat. She was more than a little aggravated how they kept referring to her as an “it.” And she thought that it was kind of hilarious how a party was treated like Super Serious Business™ (she laughed out loud when 707 bolded and increased the font size as he exclaimed Hosting parties???). But when they said that they wanted her to be the party coordinator, and that being the party coordinator meant staying at the apartment …

Listen.

It’s not that MC had a secret passion for hosting parties. It’s not that she felt sympathy for these people who were, apparently, sad over the death of some woman named Rika, and wanted to carry on the parties in her name or whatever. It’s not that she thought that any of the guys were hot (although, to be fair, everyone in the chat was strangely attractive, Jaehee included), and that she wanted a boyfriend. No, this had nothing to do with any of that.

Instead, it was … listen. Not thirty minutes ago, MC had been living in a storage closet that she tried to insist to herself was just a shitty studio apartment. Now she was seated in the living room of an apartment with very nice furniture, and nice walls, and a bathroom with a toilet and a really nice shower. There was a kitchen where she could make food, and a fridge and cabinets where she could store it. It was just down the street from a convenience mart. And while it was clear that being the RFA party coordinator was not a paying gig, in MC’s mind, the equation went as thus:

Do a good job as temporary party coordinator and impress RFA

RFA wants to keep her on for more parties because they are impressed

At that point, she mentions need a paying gig on top of this

One of the now impressed members of the RFA with a career (e.g. Jumin, V, Jaehee, etc) offers her a job with them

SUCCESS AND PROFIT

It was as good a plan as any in MC’s mind, and in any case, Rika’s apartment was a HUGE step-up from where she had been staying before. So she readily agreed, and didn’t even call 707 out on his bs when he said that he looked up her social media (social media which didn’t exist, and anyway, he only had “MC” to go on, like … she scoffed at the idea that he could dig up anything on her). Instead, she played along with him. He made her laugh. He genuinely made her laugh. And it had been … well, it felt like it had been years since she had laughed or smiled that much. She really liked talking to him. He was a funny guy.

She thought that, the perks of having a nice place to stay and the potential for a future job aside, she rather liked this situation she found herself in. She still wanted to know who tf Unknown was (and she forwarded the text messages and chat log to Seven), but all the same, she still had to say (to herself and not through text) …

Thanks, Unknown.

So, with all of that foundation laid, what do we know about MC? Well, succinctly:

MC is smart. She’s not a technical genius by any stretch (though she does, thanks to her call center job, have some background knowledge on computers to an extent—she can troubleshoot, at least), but she is street smart. She has spent a good chunk of her life living on the streets, and she knows how to get by, even if it’s scraping by due to how hard homeless life is. She’s not naive; her circumstances have forced her to grow up ahead of her time, and in honesty, being treated as naive is pretty grating for her. She knows how to take care of herself, because she’s had to learn the hard way, and she really doesn’t take well to that being dismissed.

On that note, she’s independent, and extremely so. Again, she’s spent pretty much her whole life looking after herself. She didn’t always do a great job of it, but she did her best, and she’s still doing her best, and this is something she takes pride in. She’s not helpless; even if she’s in a bad situation, MC doesn’t see herself as even remotely helpless. She’s not a damsel who ever needs to be rescued. She can protect and rescue herself. She always has, after all, every time. Any time she was in a bad situation, the only person who ever got her out of it was her. So again, MC chafes if she’s treated like a helpless damsel, just as she chafes at being treated as naive, and she doesn’t do well with having her independence compromised. She’s rather headstrong like that.

She’s gutsy. Daring, brave, bold—you name it, she’s it. It takes guts to rob your foster family and then run away like she did. It takes guts to do the same to your abusive boyfriend. And more than that, it takes resilience to be able to survive the way she has. MC, despite everything, doesn’t break. No matter how bad a situation gets, no matter how badly she’s hurt, she always manages to push herself up and keep going. Even if it takes every last ounce of willpower she’s got, she does it. And she doesn’t back down, either; no matter how intimidating someone may seem, if she has to fight, she’ll do it. Sure, she might be afraid, but she’ll still do it. She’s incredibly brave and incredibly determined. It’s how she has survived for this long. But she’s also …

… paranoid. MC is secretive to the point of paranoia about her personal information and identity. She doesn’t use social media because she’s afraid of being found. She forges official documents as best she can to obscure her identity (not thinking, of course, about the national registry; if her call center job hadn’t been shady, they wouldn’t have hired her). She relentlessly grills Unknown and is honestly even a little savage with him in the prologue chat because the fact that he won’t reveal his real name sets off warning bells for her, because what ulterior motives could he have for keeping his name secret? And she doesn’t tell the RFA much about herself, either. She shares her name (MC), but she doesn’t bother to tell them that the picture she had in the chat was a selfie. Better to let them believe she looks like something else. She doesn’t tell them her age, and she lets them believe that she had a place to stay before Rika’s apartment (well, a nice place to stay). Even when Seven asks about her, she dodges around her questions no differently than he dodges hers. It’s not that she doesn’t trust him; it’s that she doesn’t (easily) trust anyone.(Plus, wouldn’t they judge her if they knew she was a jobless hobo before this? Better safe than sorry in that respect, too.)

She has … ZERO tolerance for abuse. Given her own life—her time in the foster home, and especially her time with Byungho—she has no tolerance for abuse or abusers. None. Zero. She refuses to “let” herself ever be in that situation again, and if she ever sees anyone else in that situation, she gets real mad, real fast. Her attitude toward Rika is pretty much summed up as “bring the bitch to me so she can CATCH THESE HANDS” and nothing short of it. But that said, she also wouldn’t tolerate, say, Saeran abusing Saeyoung, if it ever came to that. She’ll feel for Saeran. She’s been abused herself. But being abused is no excuse to abuse others. She’s not about to have it. No tolerance for that. None whatsoever. None, nada, zip, zilch, zero.

And she’s not nearly so cheerful as she seems. MC has had a hard life. That hard life has left her with quite a lot of emotional scars. And while she tried to tell herself, over and over and over again, that things would be okay and she couldn’t let herself be depressed, that doesn’t change the fact that she was depressed enough to follow some stranger’s instructions to some strange apartment even though she was fully aware that she was at risk of being raped and/or murdered when she got there. (Or having her backpack of worldly possessions, which she can’t leave in the storage closet since it has no lock, stolen from her.) Again, she’s not actually naive or innocent. She plays along with jokes because she loves to laugh (and oh, she does—she loves laughing and joking and playing around!), but that’s all it is—playing. When play time is over, she can and does get serious. She still tries to not feel depressed, but … well. It’s harder than it seems, even if she still pushes through it and keeps going for the sake of it.

She is, should she find someone she can truly connect (safely and happily) with, quite devoted. MC’s never really had someone to truly love, who truly loved her in return. This isn’t to say that she has no idea how relationships work, because she does. She was friends (casually) with her coworkers at her call center job, for instance, and after Byungho you at least better believe she knows what not to do or settle for in relationships. But she’s never had a really loving relationship of her own. No family to speak of, no best friends, and Byungho was certainly not a loving boyfriend. MC has been pretty isolated in this way for pretty much her entire life. Casual work friends are nice, but … it’s not the same. So as a result, should she find someone that she truly cares for—even if they don’t love her in return, if she loves and cares about them, she’s devoted to them. She’ll stand by them through anything. She’s steadfast and loyal. She’s protective and caring. And she doesn’t really need anything in return, because for her, it’s enough to have this chance to help someone that she cares about, and to do something good—to do what’s right.

On that note, she’s got a strong sense of justice. Or at least … she has a good sense of right and wrong, and she also does have vested interest in helping the less fortunate (obviously, look how many years she has spent homeless). The charity party actually sounds like a great idea to her (even if internally she’s like “can I bet on the donation side and can you people donate a job to me because tbh …”) because she knows better than most how absolutely awful it is to have literally nothing. She wants to help those that are “less fortunate,” she wants to host the party not just because she wants to impress the RFA (but mainly that), but also because it’s a legitimately good cause in her mind. It’s something she cares about. Though, on that note …

Strong sense of justice or not, she’s resourceful, and is not afraid to lie or steal to get what she needs to live, i.e., she can be ruthless if she has to be. I mean, again … look at how much stealing she has done, look at how she might lie and deceive to protect herself. She has a good sense of right and wrong, but she’s not above doing what she has to in order to survive, even if it’s illegal. MC figures her continued survival is a good enough cause to justify that sort of thing.

So with all of that listed out, what does that say for the story? And more specifically, her relationship with Saeyoung?

I see the story playing out mostly as it does until the apartment days are reached. Once Saeyoung arrives at the apartment, and makes it clear he doesn’t want to pursue a relationship with her—that’s fine. It hurts, sure, to have him be so cold when before this he was honestly the closest to a best she ever had (and she knows that’s ridiculous given they’ve only known each other a handful of days, but still), but it’s fine. If he doesn’t want to date her, that’s fine. It’s not like romance is the most important thing in the world, and he has other problems. He has way more important problems. Hell, the entire RFA has way more important problems. Whoever knew a charity organization could be full of this much drama? Jfc.

But that said, there are still … other difficulties.

When they get into arguments, their arguments are because she wants him to eat something, and he refuses (and you know, she respects his boundaries, but he needs to eat, he doesn’t get to harp on her for not eating if he won’t). Their arguments are because she wants to go to the convenience mart, and he’s paranoid about her leaving the apartment. (They compromise by being on the phone the whole time, even if they’re not speaking.) Their arguments are because he, unintentionally or otherwise, treats her like she’s naive and/or helpless, and she gets pissed off, because he has no right to judge her like that when he knows nothing about her. When he tries to warn her that there are dangerous men out there, she laughs, bitterly and without humor, because yeah, trust her, she knows. When she makes an offhand comment about how, even with the bomb, Rika’s apartment is still way better than where she was before, and he shrewdly asks her where she was before, she dodges the question. And when, ultimately, they get in their last big fight and he demands to know why she likes him, she lists off all the reasons why she does, because unlike Canon MC, this MC knows. She likes him because he’s smart, brave, selfless. Yeah, he made her laugh, and that’s a plus, too, considering laughter is a rarity in her life, but the jokes aside, she loves him—likes him, she amends, way more for his cleverness, his bravery, his selflessness. He risked everything with the agency to come protect her. He does everything for the RFA despite being so busy with his own work. No matter how stressed or bogged down he is, he’s determined enough to push through. He cares enough to go the extra mile for others, not expecting anything in return. She likes him because underneath the jokey, pranky 707 exterior, he’s a genuinely good person who tries his best even if he doesn’t always manage to succeed. There’s sincerty in how much he cares even if he tries to deny it. And that … she can relate to some of that, and admire even more of it. She started out liking the 707 in the chat room, yeah, because he was fun to talk to. But now? Now she genuinely cares about the Seven that’s right in front of her.

He’s at a loss. She just went on some huge speech about everything she likes about him—and at some point, yes, she included how serious and dedicated he is, she likes him being serious, even if she adds she’d also like it if he would take breaks to sleep and eat—and he’s … at a loss. He admits he doesn’t know what to do. So she says:

“Just think about accepting help. That’s all I want. I just—it doesn’t have to be me. If you don’t want me helping you, fine. But let someone help you, Seven. Let Jumin help you, or Jaehee. Maybe even Zen. Just—I want to help you. I’m here to help you however you need. I want to help you find and rescue Saeran, I want to help you get through this. But if it’s not me, just let it be someone. You don’t have to be alone, Seven. You don’t have to do this all by yourself. I … I know how hard it—I know what it’s like doing everything by yourself even when it’s something far less risky than all this. I know how it is doing just basic level hard stuff all by yourself. But what you’re dealing with is extra. It’s a lot, even for several people, but especially for one. So just … please think about accepting some help. Think about accepting your friends. That can include me, or it can not … and if it does, then you can still tell me to get lost when all is said and done, that’ll be fine. I’ll respect that. But just take some time, and think about accepting some help from someone. That’s all I ask.”

And after a moment … that is what he’d quietly agree to.

He and MC would not become a couple at this point, but he would accept help from her. He’d start to tell her more about Saeran. He’d explain what he’s doing. She’d help him prepare for the trip to Magenta, and she’d go there with him. And she wouldn’t go there just so that she could get in the car when he tells her to when V shows up, or so that she could hide behind him. This MC, as you can tell from all of the above, is proactive. She’s brave, and she’s a fighter. This MC is not someone that Saeyoung stands before like a shield; she is someone who stands by his side, who gives him a hand to hold without any expectation of a relationship (despite their mutual crushes; it’s just not the time). Sure, he still tells her to stand behind him, but her attitude is “no u” before she moves to stand by his side. Will he protect her? Sure. But she’ll protect him right back, or go down swinging at the very least. Saeyoung, much like MC, has spent his entire life taking care of himself. He’s spent his entire life having the burden entirely on his shoulders. So it’s about damn time he had someone to share it with, just as it’s about damn time MC had some help, too, however much she (like him, tbh—they’re both so stubborn about it) thinks she has everything under control. Saeyoung has more technical knowledge that she does, given that he is a canonical, literal genius, but outside of that, they’re equals. She’s not a damsel for him to protect, rescue, and pamper. She’s a partner who stands by his side and gives him the support he needs to make it through, just as he does the same for her.

So as you can imagine, she’s a lot more proactive in my version of the Secret Endings as well. She floors the getaway car when it’s time. She learns from Vanderwood how to do first aid treatment for Saeyoung’s injury. When Rika says that she’s going to brainwash Saeyoung, MC says, “Over my dead body,” and moves to stand in front of him. At which point, of course, we get this from Rika:

“That would be a waste, because I believe everyone has a place here at Mint Eye. But if that’s truly what you want … that can be arranged.”

At that point, Believers enter the cell to drag MC off, and Vanderwood has to hold Saeyoung back as he starts flipping out, but Saeran intervenes since Rika promised him that he could have the toy that he personally sent to her old apartment …

As you can see, things really start to deviate.

(Note that once they’re away from the cells, Saeran tells MC that he has zero interest in her. He only said what he did to mess with Saeyoung. MC’s pretty unimpressed and lets him know it. He’s irritated by how unimpressed she is, and she’s petty and satisfied.)

Unlike canon, where they’re engaged promptly once Saeran is rescued, MC and Saeyoung don’t even officially start dating until after Saeran is rescued and has started the healing process. Note that, also unlike canon, MC can’t really stay at Rika’s apartment anymore, because RFA isn’t having that, what with there being a bomb and all. But she also never told them that she was a homeless squatter, so … #awkward. She ends up having Vanderwood take her back to the storage closet, and when he sees that it is, in fact, a storage closet—

“I like to think of it as—it’s not a storage closet. It’s a studio apartment,” MC says.

“It’s a storage closet,” Vanderwood says. “Oh, for fucksake—”

MC and Saeyoung aren’t officially dating yet, but Vanderwood still thinks Saeyoung would flip if he knew his not-girlfriend was staying in a storage closet. Aside from which, over the course of the Secret Endings, Saeyoung, MC, and Vanderwood became The Secret End Squad™, and that’s a bond not easily broken. So Vanderwood says, “Get your backpack and let’s go” and takes her back to his place. Yeah, that’s right: post-Secret Endings, MC is (at least for a time) roomies with Vanderwood.

#RoomieAdventures (and also #JobSearchAdventures because at this point they’re both unemployed lololol)

(Saeyoung’s reaction when he learns this is priceless, I’m sure.)

So yeah, all in all, the MC that I imagine for Saeyoung is someone who stands beside him, as his equal. Someone who respects his boundaries and does not push a relationship, but also someone who does push the notion that he should let someone help him, because she genuinely cares about and wants to help. She’s had a hard life, but that hard life has made it so that she can stand at his equal. Just as his hardships developed him, hers have developed her. She’s someone who can support him, as much as he supports her. She’s someone who wants to.

And ultimately, arrogant though it may sound, I think that an MC like this … is much better suited for him than the MC that Cheritz vaguely defined. But that’s just my opinion; everyone else’s mileage may vary.

#atnak16 #scrawlers chats with a mystic messenger #(not really but that's as good a tag as any)#mm MC #mcseven #(not so) fun fact: Saeyoung's agency is the reason why MC's call center went under #it was a paid hit #Saeyoung himself might have even been involved (but maybe not)#so whoops. sorry MC.#(it's ok. it all worked out in the end)

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universal-kitty · 7 years ago

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I'm going through... Girl issues... So I was wondering how you'd imagine your F/O's would react if they found you upset over your time of the month?

Y’know, this actually lets me to bring up a fun fact I’ve never really gotten to use before.... The fact that sometimes, I have a headcanon about everything. From what they do/use while showering, what modern clothes a certain older-time-period F/O would wear, and so on... Just little details I think up while going about my own day.

So! While I haven’t thought of this one actively, it’s definitely something that’s cropped up for me. When things hurt, the only thing you can do is think up an F/O to comfort you, right??

So! For those who I have icons for, we’re gonna get right into how they start comforting when things get to be too much. Sorted into “knows what they’re doing” down to “has no idea, but is trying their best...”

Abe Sapien: He has no idea what’s going on, at first. This is something he has to study, so the first time it happens, he’s a bit behind on the program.

Come the next time, Abe not only completely knows what to do, but even starts to soothe pain better than what most human doctors could provide.

Hard to figure out how he does it, but honestly, who’s complaining?? He’s a savior to those who deal with cramps and his way with words make it easy to just listen to him and not focus on how gross nature can be.

Kurama: You want a sweet boyfriend who’s going to fuss over you until you feel better?? Look no further than the sweetest redhead, Kurama.

When he was forced to get along with humanity by being reborn, Kurama ended up getting attached to his human mother. So that meant learning about ways in which he could help, especially as she gets older. This meant learning even more than he thought would be necessary, but that’s fine. Bound to be useful someday, right?

Sooner than he thought.

But it’s worth it, in it’s own way. He finds it really fulfilling to help his “mate” with such a problem.

Also likes to pride himself on getting used to it and knowing sometimes before even the other does that, oop, you need this now, right? Here you go~

Mordin Solus: He prides himself a scientist, so when the topic of cramps and bleeding comes up, Mordin immediately wants to learn all about it.

I rank him as “helpful”, but sometimes that’s a bit questionable, to be honest. He’s mostly there for research. He will help with the pain, though. Can’t have that!

“But pain is fascinating. Judging by flow, must be to stimulate it. Get it all out. Remarkable.”

He’s a little gross like that, but still lovable. Besides, he likely ends up learning a lot from that, thus making your own period-experience go a lot better.

Thane Krios: Thane’s been around long enough to know that humans bleeding are a thing. Especially in undesirable places in females. Isn’t that life, though? He usually didn’t pay much attention to it.

But now he’s picking up that past slack, recalling things he’s heard and learning things as he goes to help.

It honestly upsets him a little when his Siha is in pain, but feels better knowing that later, she’ll feel better... This wave of pain just needs to pass.

He’s the most understanding of the ones who “don’t get it, but do their best”, honestly. Thane understands that it’s a messy thing and if things get bloody in the process, it’s alright. It’s natural and he’ll help out however he can.

Toshinori Yagi: He’s bleeding, they’re bleeding... It’s a mess. Everyone in this apartment is bleeding in one way or the other. (But his isn’t supposed to be happening naturally, so... She’s the one better off, hah!)

It’s a little...embarrassing, but he’s happy to help. Especially since most people will now call him out for having a girlfriend and that’s just.... Such a nice thing to be constantly reminded of. He’s got a girlfriend. He’s helping his girlfriend by doing this. Nice.

He fusses a lot for the first one, but by the time a year is out, he’s got everything down pat. Remind him of how much better he’s gotten. Watch him be proud of himself. It’s CUTE.

Godot: Speaking of sweet guys doing their best, here’s a Godot. Not as sweet as the others, maybe, but his bittersweetness is still great to have around. (Okay, I’ll try to chill with those lowkey coffee refs.)

...Actually, there’s not much to say on him. He is a really good boyfriend in that he goes out and buys what his girl needs, no problem. Doesn’t bat a lash at it, aside from asking about what brands she prefers. Oh, and does she want snacks? Probably should get a few of those two.

Most of the comfort snacks will probably involve coffee...and by “probably” I mean most certainly. Coffee is love, coffee is life.

Link: He has no idea what he’s doing, but is he going to do his best?? You betcha!!

(Gonna have to write this one in some kinda...modern AU. Cause do Hylians even bleed? What do they do, then, when it happens?? These are questions unanswered.)

It’s pretty frustrating for him at first; he has no idea what he’s doing and his girlfriend is in pain. If there’s anything this reincarnated hero doesn’t like, it’s people in pain that he can’t help.

It’s why he has to learn from example and then slowly gets the idea of how to make it all work. From working with cravings to what brand and type they like best.

It’s no Ganon, but seeing her smile makes him happy, sO--

Tom: He’s a mild bit surprised when he realizes ‘oh shit, my gf is bleeding and that’s natural’... Cause for some reason, it strikes me that Tom would likely not know a lot about this kinda thing.

He does his best and that’s what counts, though.

Also tries playing his bass sometimes. Anything that might distract from the pain of cramps.

This is coming from the possessed guy, but humans are fucking weird.

Tord: He initially tries to play it off like he doesn’t care...but he does. He goes through multiple stages of emotions before deciding that it must suck to bleed like that....but that’s so cool!!! So hardcore!!!!! Bleeding and pain, hell yeah!! How do you make periods into a Red Army motto?

It’s mostly Paul and Patrick who tend to his S/O more than he does, but... Mm, Red Leader business is happening. He’ll be back whenever he feels like it.

...It’s sooner than you think.

He’s so awkward, but he tries. Mostly cuddles by the way of him flopping on top first, and then rolling over when complaints are being muttered into his hoodie.

He actually surrenders it sometimes??? A real treat, coming from him. And it’s always the one he’s been wearing up until that point, so.... Perfect.

Captor Family: I’m gonna use Psii as a placeholder, cause... Honestly, the fam as a whole would more or less treat their S/O the same way, SO..... Yeah.

They’re all confused. Human girls bleed?? Why??? Trolls don’t. Why would humans? What... What?? Makes no sense. Something must’ve gotten lost in translation.

Sollux acts like he doesn’t care (much like Tord), but also will still shove things onto them that they don’t know how HE knows.... Either he snoops or he’s been spying again. ...Letting him off the hook this time...

Mituna does his best. It’s mostly getting things for you, while collabing on snacks, and then he contributes by trying to make you laugh and feel better. It’s...nice. He’s a sweetie~

Psiioniic is the biggest adult of the trio, in the sense that he does what needs to be done and without any of Sollux’s tsuntsun attitude. Is it still a little embarrassing for him? Yes. Does he do it anyways? Of course! Also, being cradled in psionics is a 10/10 experience. Super comforting and also a little tingly.

Sidon: One of the most baffled of this group, Sidon is also the most concerned when his beloved admits to bleeding from time to time. That does not sound good! Do they need a medic...?

Being natural is even harder for him to accept, but he does... Still worries him, though. (He later files it under “More Reasons Why My Beloved is Amazing” and starts using it as another excuse to sing praises, but.... Who’s complaining to that....?)

He does what he can to make things more comfortable. If it’s in his power to do (and usually, it is), then he’ll do it!! (Or ask Link for help, if it’s something harder for him to do alone. Surely the Gerudo could help more??)

Pain will lessen with Zorae doctors on the case and you’ll never feel too bad when Sidon reminds you of how amazing you are.

....Someone please get me a real-life Sidon, I need a do-gooder fish guy in my life--

And to represent the vampires of DiaLovers as a whole... Kanato icon. Cause honestly, if you ever wanted to watch a group of guys usually end up enept because of a monthly thing, welcome to the Sakamaki/Mukami/Tsukinami households.

Kanato is often the worst of them. The scent of blood makes him want to drink, but that kind is bad...and for the moment, he does recognize that he can’t have his fill because of the current situation. It makes him mad and fussy.

He only finds his peace when sitting in the gardens. Keeping them just far enough that he see, but not smell, and singing to himself softly. That’s much better for him.

Kou Mukami also gets pouty, but handles it a lot better. He also actually knows how to help with such issues, which is a relief.

Azusa Mukami is...less talented than Kou, but that’s often why he’ll go to the other for help and advice. He sorta thinks bleeding like that is neat, but... Mm. Also not entirely interested. It’s a confusing thing for him, really.

Carla Tsukinami is the worst of the group... Second only to Kanato, maybe. Gets huffy with the scent of blood in the air, prone to angry fits, and doesn’t know how to help. So it’s bad for awhile. Gotta point him in the right direction and then he’ll start cooling off...

Yeah, that’s the trick, here. Once he feels helpful, then he relaxes. Like.... Jinkies, Carla, calm down. It’s not the end of the world, yanno.

#minxtheartist #Aki answers #I wrote them all in a vague imagines style...whoops #but worth it #this is so long gomen #I even left out Ko and this was still ridiculously long #RIP #I'll tag this nightmare later

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pattriikk · 7 years ago

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8/8/2017: Fleet Foxes and (Sandy) Alex G at the Midland

I didn't know what to expect. To see Alex G at the Midland -- with Fleet Foxes, no less -- was surreal to me. I wondered how this juxtaposition would play out. Telling it was to see Alex carrying his own equipment onstage, undetected by the unassuming crowd. It seemed like he was used to this -- both carrying his own equipment and being undetected on this tour. I didn't disturb his peace.

Mere minutes after, Alex jammed through the chatter of the crowd without introduction, demanding attention with an overpowering "I think you're cute" (Kute) -- an interesting choice of opener for virgin ears. It gave them no illusion of the nature of his music, however, and served as a good compromise between oddball DIY indie and the more polished acts which grace the venue. And this isn't to suggest he wasn't welcome here; in fact, he was very warmly received. To the unacquainted crowd, this must have appeared an adept group of adept musicians playing catchy songs with odd chord progressions. Doubtless, this reception was due, in no small part, to the crystal-clear presentation of his set.

Unlike any of his studio recordings, Alex's vocals pushed through to the front of the mix, accompanied by pristine, isolated instrumentation. Front-and-center is a comfortable place for his vocals to reside; it seemed that Alex's voice faltered in all the right places. The blind listener, however, would assume a drastically different band. Though they offered laidback songs, the band seemed laser-focused; the first half of his set offered the crowd this laboriously relaxed collection of tunes. I like to think what followed was something he was eager to let loose.

Alex crashed through the crowd's comfort with Kicker, a song riddled with screeching guitar sounds -- the kind of sound that made people feel lame for plugging their ears. I thought this was a bold subversion of the sound he'd established thus far, and it certainly commanded the full attention of the crowd once more. He loosened up a bit, following with the folky Poison Root, then sat at his keyboard, fiddling with the microphone while the rest of the band played an instrumental placeholder. The latter half of his set consisted of a number of synth-laden tunes which crescendoed -- with the help of Alex's concentrated keyboard playing -- into the massive fizz-out at the end of Guilty. This sort of cacophony is a staple of his discography, but seems to work more naturally in the muddy mixes of his records; here, the instruments did not blend together. It did, however, serve as an awkwardly charming closer.

Outside the venue after his set, my friend Alice left a fake parking ticket on his windshield which prompted him to move his van. He took this in good humor, and seemed genuinely happy that there were fans there who came specifically to see him. It was a relief to see we weren't bothering him.

I went back into the venue to hear Fleet Foxes in the middle of I Am All That I Need, and was relieved that I didn't miss anything. I took my place amid the crowd once more to hear some singing along, and some reverently longing for more familiar material -- I was among the former. The opening sequence of their sprawling set consisted of the first three tracks of Crack-Up. The cohesive nature of the record translated into an undeniable extension of live energy. I got the sense, however, that the crowd would have been happy with Three Blind Mice -- front man Robin Pecknold was welcomed with thunderous applause. It was my first time seeing Fleet Foxes. Simply put, I was blown away.

I expected at least a little bit of corner-cutting in terms of vocal delivery -- especially given the demanding nature of some of these songs. I heard no such thing, and on the contrary was pleasantly surprised to hear Pecknold reside comfortably in his upper register; some of the baritone vocals on Crack-Up were substituted with words a few octaves higher. He wasn't afraid to throw his voice out to the screaming crowd. The opening sequence showcased the emphasis on lush harmonies and gratuitous reverb which would permeate the rest of the set. Continuing on, the Foxes trotted through the loose drums and sauntering guitars of Grown Ocean, accompanied visually by the moving paint motifs of the Third of May music video.

Taking a breather, Pecknold commented, "This is an incredible place," and was greeted with a loud "THANK YOU" from the crowd. At this, he chuckled and thanked the crowd. He then broke into Ragged Wood, prompting the loud adoration of the crowd. It was here that the real singalong began. The striking vocal harmonies, underpinned by the crowd's contribution, painted a picture of the experience of music which reminded me of its enchanting, unitive nature. This was complimented by the band's demeanor; they seemed like they were just a group of friends playing music, genuinely enjoying our company and appreciation.

The set was structured with Fleet Foxes devotees in mind -- classics interspersed with fragments of the new record, usually a few songs' worth. The strings of their newer songs were replaced with either a horn or a flute, but they were played with such skill that no one seemed to miss their presence. The horn also perfectly captured the essence of some of the tenser songs on Crack-Up, while the flute -- for example, at the end of Mearcstapa -- allowed for beautiful extended motifs.

There was a notably heartfelt moment about halfway through the set: responding to the impassioned and impatient calls of fans, he said "I love you guys," and then threw them a bone with Battery Kinzie. It seemed the typically reverent Kansas City crowd couldn't let the theater go silent for Fleet Foxes. The obvious climax, however, came as a sucker-punch after the relaxed If You Need To, Keep Time on Me. The sucker-punch, of course, was named Mykonos. Towards the end of the song, Pecknold let the harmonies take over, and the roaring crowd responded with their own rendition. The honorable mention was Third of May which came short after, cheekily teased beforehand with the guitar part to the Beatles' Here Comes the Sun. The set, pre-encore, ended on a high note with Helplessness Blues, whose lyrics are particularly telling of the spirit of a Fleet Foxes performance:

"And now after some thinking, I'd say I'd rather be A functioning cog in some great machinery serving something beyond me"

That something, on that night, was one hell of an experience. The quote speaks to Pecknold's humility onstage, as well; he gladly takes the limelight, but does not bask in it. He's not so naive as to believe that he's the star of the show. He knows that the real reason the fans go wild is because they see themselves in his music -- it speaks to them. Coming back for an encore, Pecknold was alone with his guitar. The crowd waited, again impatiently, imploring him to play this song or another. He candidly responded, "I hear what you're saying, and I respect your position, but I no longer know how to play that song," and began Oliver James through the laughter of the crowd. The rendition solicited the crowd to clap along, unprompted, for the final chorus. He finished off the show with the rest of the band on Crack-Up, ending with a delicate, somnolent composition with a droning synth and arpeggiating piano striking softly in the distance.

#fleet foxes #indie #folk #alex g #live #concert #arvest bank theater #midland

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strainofthestress · 8 years ago

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Fanfic: Somebody to Share it With Ch. 6

Kadara Port, 1900 Hours

Ryder sat on the edge of the port, watching the majestic landscape that unfolded in front of him. The sunset glowed with honey-pink light that bathed the alien landscape in warm rays. Behind him, the techno thump of the club’s music could be felt more than heard, far enough away to not interrupt the serenity of the scene in front of him. Soft footsteps sounded behind him, though he barely noticed.

“Enjoying the view?”

Vetra stood behind him, looking out from the edges of the dock, her visor almost unnoticeable in the light of the evening.

“Something like that, yeah.”

Vetra sat down next to rider, her feet dangling off the edge with him, kicking mildly in the freedom they enjoyed.

“You been in to explore the port yet?”

“A little bit. Went in to meet our Angaran contact, met with Sloane Kelly – she’s a piece of work. Still have to go interrogate the Angaran.”

“No, I mean actually explore the port.”

Ryder looked at Vetra quizzically, his left eyebrow shooting up as he tilted his head slightly to the left. Vetra’s brow plates lifted and her mandibles flared out as she spoke.

“You know, like where the real people live? Where you are right now, this is to Kadara what the docks are to the citadel – a collection of travelers and smugglers, here for the night and nothing more.”

“So, have you been farther in, then?”

Vetra stood up excitedly, extending a hand to Ryder as she did so. He followed suit, taking her hand to help lift him to standing next to the precipice of the landing platform.

“Yes, I have been farther in. I lived here for a few weeks, actually. Let’s go exploring. I’m hungry, you want dinner?”

The growl in Ryder’s stomach answered for him, and Vetra was greeted primarily with a sheepish grin from the Pathfinder.

The two started walking, into the port first, passing all of the shops and din which Ryder was familiar with until they came to what had initially struck Ryder as a wall of junk. A closer inspection, though, with the help of Vetra activating the hidden console, revealed that it was actually just a creatively disguised door, blending in perfectly with the grab-bag assortment of equipment which made up the majority of the walls and corridors in the port.

Ryder looked around with childlike wonder as Vetra led him down a corridor, wide enough for three or four people to walk abreast in, her dual-toned voice explaining as they walked.

“See, the people who settled Kadara – the outcasts – for the mostpart aren’t all bad. Yeah, there’s a vocal minority whose entire platform is ‘screw the nexus’, but that’s not really representative. The majority of people here just wanted a life with a little bit more… control, than Tan allows for on the Nexus. Once they found Kadara and started to settle in, the lack of a clear police force, government, or any regulations made this an immediate pirate and smuggler’s haven. They were happy for the trade, we do keep the money flowing here, but most people here don’t want anything to do with it. So they separated Kadara Proper from the port, hid the entrance. They get to live a life largely free of the vagrancy in Andromeda, the pirate’s still get a place to booze and laugh and trade, and everybody makes money. An elegant solution, really, if you think about it.”

After a long distance the tunnel opened up and Ryder was greeted by a small square in which hundreds of people were walking about. The buildings bordering the square had the same chanty-town feel of what he had seen in the port, but the smell of vomit and sewage had been replaced just by general life – the faint tingling smell of power converters, the dust kicked up from a Turian walking by, the sweet aroma of the food stand to his left. The square itself was modestly sized, approximately 50 yards at its widest point, and at even intervals five roads split off into what he could see was a rather thriving city. To his best guess they were on the backside of the mountain that Kadara was on, this square being the tallest point of the entire establishment, but the tunnel had effectively disoriented him with an occasional and random turn (a feature he was certain was rather intentional).

Vetra started walking confidently down one of the roads and Ryder followed, his mouth still agape as he took in the sights and sounds around him. The outcasts had clever handcarts that they used, the cargo area glowing blue with Mass Effect Fields as they hauled clearly heavy wares with ease up and down the narrow and inclined roads – it was clear this was a pedestrian’s town. Species of every kind – Turian, Asari, Humans, Angarans, Salarians, even a few Krogan – stood around, clothed in dull greens and blues, bartering over the cost of this upgrade or that fruit. Only a handful of buildings looked to be more than two stories high, though there were some that were large enough to cover an entire block. While not dirty, nothing in the city seemed particularly sturdy, almost as if all of it had been built as a placeholder for a more permanent building which had yet to come. Looking forwards to see Vetra a few yards ahead, Ryder trotted forwards, speaking while he ran.

“So, do they have, like, a government here? Police? Civil servants?”

Vetra laughed, smiling at Ryder as the two dodged around a human and a Turian who clearly disagreed on the true value of a pistol.

“Of sorts. There’s no formalized government, as you’re thinking. Sloane’s word is still law back here. Any sort of government or civil tasks happen at her word. Say what you will about her, though, she does a pretty good job. Most tasks are taken care of fairly quickly, and the majority of her ‘shoot first ask later’ goons stay on the port side. In here.”

Vetra dodged to the right, Ryder following suit, into a small diner with a low ceiling. An L-shaped counter hugged the back corner with a door to the kitchen behind it, and on the counter behind glass sat plates of Turian and human food. 8 tables filled the rest of the space, chairs surrounding them. Vetra walked up to the counter and quickly a short Turian left the kitchen, wiping her hands on a rag as he did so. Her face was scarred in places and his colony markings were all but weathered away. A frown hugged her mandibles to her face, but as soon as she looked up to see Vetra, her eyes lit up and her voice erupted with dual-toned joy.

“Vetra!!!” Vetra was practically yanked over the counter into a crushing hug. “Oh how good it is to see you! It’s been a few months, no? Please, please, sit sit!”

The turian gestured to the tables filling the space and Vetra and Ryder turned around to find a table of four, taking seats opposite each-other with the new turian seated to Vetra’s right. She continued.

“Vetra, you’ve got to tell me what you’ve been up to? How is life on the Nexus? We’ve heard rumors of a pathfinder, is this true? Is he real? Or is it a she?!”

Vetra was about to open her mouth when the Turian’s attention turned to Ryder, her eyes blatantly looking him over from top to bottom, her mandibles flaring slightly as she did so. The subharmonics of her voice getting deeper as she spoke.

“And who’s your new friend?” She turned to Vetra, her voice lowering in volume “you didn’t tell me you kept such cute friends! I like him!” Ryder’s face reddened as the new turian spoke and Vetra gave him a look which was an even mix of exasperation and amusement. The turian turned back to Ryder. “I’m sorry, where are my manners. 600 years out of the hierarchy and look what I’ve become! I’m Trivenia Quo, but most of my friends just call me Tri. I run the finest Levo-Dextro diner in Kadara.”

Ryder’s face made how taken aback he was by the bombardment of friendliness quite obvious and, stifling a laugh, Vetra took over the introductions.

“It’s good to see you again, Tri. I’d like to introduce you to my friend, Wes Ryder, Pathfinder.”

Her clear emphasis on the last word was not lost on Trivenia, and she gave Ryder another impressed once-over, glancing at Vetra who nodded at her as if confirming that her information was accurate.

“Well, nice to meet you, pathfinder. Here, let me get you something to eat.”

Trivenia stood up, hustling behind the counter as she took out two plates, loading them both up with heaps of oddly green and pink food, which Ryder recognized from neither Levo nor Dextro diets. Vetra leaned across the table to speak to Ryder in confidence.

“Trivenia is one of my most reliable contacts here in Kadara. She worked with Blackwatch – a Top Secret Turian Spec Ops team – before coming to Andromeda. As you’ve seen, she’s very friendly to those she likes. Get on her badside, though… it’s unlikely any of your loved ones will see you again.”

Trivenia returned from behind the counter, placing steaming plates of… something, in front of both Ryder and Vetra, though neither were terribly certain whether it was food or not.

“Now, forewarning you two, these are some of my newer recipes – I went out to collect some plants outside of town and made these. The turian dishes taste pretty good, and my human friends say the same about your food, pathfinder. So, eat up!”

Kadara Proper, 2130 Hours

The plates were left empty besides Ryder and Vetra, replaced instead by warm mugs of some alcoholic drink neither knew the origin of, and doubted they wanted to know. The conversation was still as engaging as ever, Vetra lauding Trivenia with stories of their adventures thus far in Heleus, of their contact with the Angarans and battles with the Kett. Ryder would chime in, when he could, but quickly found that his story telling skills were a little lacking compared to the adventuring smuggler, his sotires usually petering off into forced laughs and rushed changes of subject. Vetra was finishing a story.

“… and then, just to top it off, Wes said something really silly like ‘Eat this, you Kett bastard’, just something way over the top, and BAM, sent one round right between this bastard’s eyes. It was incredible.”

Trivenia laughed, looking Ryder over again, before standing up, gesturing to her guests to stay seated, saying simply “one moment” before practically running behind the counter. Vetra and Ryder were left alone, staring at each other. Ryder spoke first.

“I like your friend, she’s fun.”

“She is, isn’t she? Probably one of my favorite people in this town. Actually, definitely my favorite.”

“Do you come here often?”

“Not anymore. When we were still waiting for a pathfinder I lived here for a few weeks, just for the fun of it, wanted to see what outcast life was like. Not quite my style.”

“No?”

“No. As it turns out, I like to have actual air filtering and running water all the time, imagine that.”

“Yeah, imagine that..”

Ryder’s voice drifted away as he could sense the small conversation dying, his heart sinking as he tried to think of something to say. Dammit, Wes, come on! Think of something! She’s so much fun to talk to, to listen to, there’s gotta be some way to engage her in another topic. Maybe ask about her work here? No, she’s made it clear she’s trying to move away from all that. Her gun? Please, let’s not talk about guns for a while… dammit!

Before Wes could think of something to say, Vetra started talking.

“You know, Wes, this place reminds me of Omega a lot. My sister and I lived there for a few years. Low rent, always work, it was pretty good, all things considered. Most people think Omega is just this town of vagrants – people who want to live outside the rules, ‘shove it to the man’ as some humans say. But, for the most part, it’s just people with nowhere to go. This place is sort of the same way. Most aren’t living here because they hated the nexus, most are here because they didn’t think they had a voice. They were outcasts long before they were cast out. The only difference is, they might still have a chance at somewhere to go here.”

“What do you mean”

Vetra took a sip from her glass, staring out the entryway of the diner into the now-quiet street, here eyes looking through the shroud of night out the building. After a few moments, she spoke.

“In the milky way, everything already had a place. The galaxy already had a rhythm. You went where you were needed, you knew what that meant. But out here… it’s a fresh start. We’ve just barely established two outposts in Andromeda, and there are tons left to set-up. After we get those up and running, once we’ve got a full government between the colonies that isn’t just The Nexus, these people might be able to get a home there. The biggest difference between here and Omega, is hope.”

Ryder laughed, taking a long swig from his drink before slamming it down on the table, a little more forcefully than was soberly necessary.

“Next you’re going to tell me I am that hope.”

“Well… yeah.”

Before Vetra could keep talking, Trivenia came back from behind the kitchen carrying a small, octagonal tube in here hand. Her steps made it clear that it was heavy, and by her smile Ryder could tell that it was special to her. She set it on the table before talking.

“Now, Pathfinder…”

“Please, call me Wes.”

“Alright, Wes.” A small Turian goading smirk. “This piece is really special to me. Without going into any details, she’s seen me through a lot, put down a lot of bad people. I’ve only just met you, but if Vetra likes you (and trust me, she does), then that’s enough for me. I’m getting to be a little too old to lug something like this around, but that one on your back, I’ll gladly take. So, I propose a trade. This…” she pressed a button on the side of the tube and it extended into a sniper rifle. “for that.”

Vetra gasped softly as she looked at the rifle on the table, the block printed words on the front reading “BLACK WIDOW MK.III”. Ryder stared in awe at a weapon he had only ever heard about, the geometric design beautiful in its own way, a bringer of death in the right hands. Slowly, he reached out to touch it, his hand softly brushing against the cold frame of the weapon.

“Tri… are you sure?”

“Of course I am. Like I said, I’m getting too old. Not only that, can’t have our pathfinder bringing out some stupid peashooter in the field, now can we? Lord only knows where the Turian pathfinder is, and there’s not even a peep about the Asari or Salarian one. Right now, you’re our only hope. And if that armor and your stories have anything to say, you’ve become quite the soldier. A long way from an Alliance Naval Officer – I’ve seen you all shoot, I know you’re horrid, no shame in it. This weapon deserves to do good work, to shoot the right bad guys and protect the good ones. It’s certainly not going to do that here.”

Dumbfounded, Ryder looked to Vetra who stared at him, before jerking her head in a clear “Well, go on!” gesture. Ryder reached behind him, removing his Initiative rifle from his back and handing it softly to Triviana, who smiled while looking the weapon over, stowing it expertly on the mounting plates of her soft armor. Ryder reached forwards, picking up the heavy weapon and collapsing it down into it’s smaller form, stowing it on his back, adjusting his shoulders as he got used to the new weight. The room was silent.

Triviana stood up quickly, rubbing her hands together in a very human motion before picking the plates up.

“Well, you two, it’s time for an old woman to go to bed, so I’ve got to kick you out. Visit again some time?”

Vetra and Ryder stood up to leave, turning around to answer in unison “Of course, Tri.”

Kadara Port, 2430 Hours

The moon shone eerily over Kadara, bathing the Tempest in a beautiful pale light, the reflective sections of the ship throwing a dance of colored light over the surrounding buildings. The port was only a slight bit quieter at night, the constant din from the music still omnipresent in the back of everyone’s mind, like a song which all were struggling to remember but never could.

Ryder sat, again with his legs dangling off the edge of the platform. He knew, in the back of his mind, that there was a severed head of a Kett not 30 feet away from him, but that was pushed out by the beauty of the landscape before him. Man, how much that would have freaked me out not 3 months ago…

In his hands was his new rifle, freshly polished and cleaned. A man of selectively fastidious nature (his weapons and armor were perpetually spotless, the same could not be said for his stateroom), cleaning the weapon had been the first thing he had done upon return to the Tempest, the smell of gun oil and mass effect fields becoming strangely soothing to him since his time in Heleus. Afterwards, the sound of a flying creature – he knew not which – had called him outside, and the view had kept him there.

His mind was empty as he looked at the mountains before him, but he found that the subconscious wandering of an amazed mind was enough to solve many of his problems – or at least bring him conclusions he had never reached before. He thought about the crew, how they had come together. How Lexi had come into her role as team doctor quite naturally – no matter how much she complained about the number of injuries the crew was able to sustain. How Suvi was finding divine beauty in their new galaxy, a faith in final resolution that few others on his crew or the Nexus could boast. How Liam was learning just what being explorers meant, coming to terms with his own displacement as well as the slow acceptance of others; his continual outreached hand a constant force for friendship within the cluster.

And then, there was Vetra.

Before Ryder’s mind could turn properly to Vetra, or rather tell him properly what he thought of her, the familiar soft stomp of an armoured Turian approached from behind, the familiar two-toned voice calling out.

“Out here again?”

“Yeah, I guess this place is just too beautiful to pass up.”

“You know, Ryder, you’re gonna have to sleep sometime.”

“After I finish enjoying this.”

“Fair enough.”

Vetra sidled down beside Ryder, not asking for an invitation. The silence between them was comfortable, of a silence between friends, but nevertheless pregnant with conversations that could be, though neither party felt capable of starting them. The closest thing Andromeda seemed to have to a bird flew overhead. Ryder spoke first.

“This planet is a hell of a place. Pirates, beautiful mountains…”

“Trade deals with no regulations…”

“That too.”

A short pause.

“This used to be my favorite place to come. I’d fly down here on a ‘borrowed’ shuttle, carrying enough to make a profit. Find an inn for a few nights, enjoy the scene. There’s something very… freeing, about being here. In both good and bad ways.”

“What stopped you?”

“All… this.” Vetra gestured at the Tempest behind them.

“I’m sure you’ll find time after all… this. Suvi estimates we’ll be out here no more than two more months before the Nexus reaches full viability… whatever that means.”

“By then, maybe we won’t need all this. If we’ve got a foothold in Heleus, an actual government and structure, who’s to say Kadara port needs to stay?”

“I’m sure they will. You said it yourself: people have built a life here. That’s not something they’re going to want to just uproot and move randomly.”

“I guess you’re right. I just love the idea of a new Heleus government.”

“Why, not fond of the old one?”

“No, I have no hard feelings against the hierarchy, or even the council. I just… In the Milky Way, everybody was classified by their species first: Turian, Human, Asari; and then after that people cared what you did or who you were. Maybe out here, with a bunch of mixed worlds, we can change that. Make a galaxy that’s truly communal.”

“You think it’ll work.”

“I hope so.”

Another pause. Vetra started again.

“When I was younger, working construction jobs for my sister, she and I found our way into some Salarian dominant space. They were all very nice, but the more I asked the more I got turned down. It was… heart breaking. Sid had to beg on the streets just to get food for her, and I practically starved. It took a few months before an old Salarian told me that Salarians don’t hire Turians. When I asked why, he just looked at me like I was crazy and walked away. That’s… that’s always stuck with me. It wasn’t big – I eventually found a job and Sid and I got off that rock – but the memory of his confusion, how shocked he was that I would question it? That’s stuck for a while. I don’t want the next generation to grow up with that.”

Ryder paused, looking at Vetra to see that her visor had turned off, a clear echo of the pain from the past on her face.

“I never knew that. That sounds… awful.”

“I haven’t told anybody else, except you.”

“Well… thank-you.”

“For what, sharing an old sob story that explains an impractical aspiration?”

“For trusting me enough to share that.”

“Oh.” Vetra paused, looking at Ryder with momentary confusion and shock. “Well… yeah. Of course.”

“For the record, I like your idea.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. As the galaxy’s newcomers, Humans are constantly getting told by other council species to ‘wait our turn’ before we get serious say in galactic matters. And I can understand that we’re a little new and inexperienced. But, to me, it’s always seemed like that would give us a good perspective on things, a new take, help shake off some cob-webs, you know? I’d love to make a calaxy for all species, run by all species.”

“Yeah… wouldn’t that be something.”

Vetra took two breaths before she looked at Ryder, a small grin on her face, her tone quickly shifting from wistful to teasing.

“So, pathinder…”

“Oh man, here it comes”

Vetra’s laugh trickled through her sentence.

“Was that ‘Singularity Sailors’ I heard playing in your room last night?”

Though the moonlight prevented Vetra from seeing, Ryder’s face turned brilliant red at the question.

“It might have been, why?”

“You’re a Singular? Really?”

Immediately, Ryder took up the rallying call of his show and Vetra laughed as he defended it with passion and excitement.

“Look, the first series’ writing really stands up, despite it’s lack of special effects technology. And the second series? There isn’t really a better science fiction show on the vids to date! Its writing, its cast, its focus on character development and plotline over flashy special effects… it is the model that almost all sci fi vids are based off of now! Everybody from Captain Richard to Counselor Troiven, they all stand up as back ground characters. The third series, I’ll give you, is a little stale. But the fourth had some really compelling ideas and subplots, and the fifth did a fantastic job of exploring the prequel days before the original show! At the time, it was visionary, and now it is foundational! So, yes, I am a ‘Singular’, and yes, I do enjoy it!”

Vetra’s laughing had reached hysterical levels as Ryder finished, her lungs burning as she struggled to take a breath. Through the laughter she spoke.

“Wes, those vids were old when we left, not to mention now!”

Ryder’s face was still slightly red from consternation.

“Okay, fine, I got a little bored when I was a teenager, thought I’d watch it since everybody kept on spoofing it and making fun of it. Is there a point to all this?”

Vetra was still laughing, though it was dying down.

“Yes, actually. What if I told you I know a guy who has an unopened box-set of Singularity Sailors’ vid disks?”

Ryder’s head turned, and had he been a dog his ears would have picked up, instantly.

“What do you want me to do?”

“What are you willing to do?”

“Literally, anything.”

Vetra laughed, her tone now jokingly predatory.

“Well, then, I think I might get them for you, if you promise me I can hold onto this favor.”

“Vetra Nyx, I’ll do literally anything for you.”

“Promises, promises!”

As Vetra said it her head came out of the pool of laughter that it had been swimming in, her eyes noticing the mere centimeters that sat between hers and the Pathfinder’s face. Her tone was intentionally flirty, a tactic she had used with most of her closer clients. But with Ryder… with him so close… she questioned whether it mightn’t be actually serious. Ryder apparently noticed too because he quickly moved back to his position, nervously clearing his throat as he blushed furiously under his cheeks.

Silence again reigned between them.

Ryder spoke first.

“You know, Vetra, I was doing some thinking today.”

“That’s never good.”

“No, I promise you, this isn’t another ‘Let’s clean the entire tempest!’ idea. Actually, I was thinking about this crew.”

“And?”

“And how we’re getting along. And, I gotta say, I think you’re my closest friend out here.”

Vetra stopped to think about Ryder’s statement before speaking again.

“Where is this coming from, Wes?”

“I don’t know. I just… thought I needed to tell you.”

Vetra waited, staring at Wes as she counted down until the further answer she knew was coming arrived.

“Well, actually…”

Right on time

“I guess being out here, in this port, reminded me just how… alone, I am out here. I came with a family of three, myself, my sister, my dad. But Dad’s dead and Sara’s setting the record for waking up from cryo. We’ve got the crew, but most of them just work for me, if that makes sense. We don’t interact a whole lot, we don’t talk outside of work. But you, us? We hangout. We go get dinner. We talk about unified governments and whatnot. The worst feeling in the world was when I realized that it had been months since I last told my dad I loved him when he died. Since then, I’ve been trying to make a point to tell people what they really mean to me. So, thanks. For being my friend.”

Vetra smiled in her Turian way as she saw Ryder trying to make his statements heartfelt, the endearing nerdiness of his behavior and speech getting the message across where his words couldn’t. In due time, she responded.

“The feeling is mutual, Wes.”

Wes leaned back, looking up at the alien sky filled with alien stars, content at getting his message across. A part of him wanted to say more, wanted to tell Vetra more than just things about friendship, but there was such a mass of intentional and unintentional distractions pushing against it that he was able to primarily contentedly look up. Vetra followed suit, enjoying the world without the bluish purple tint of her visor in the way. The two threw their hands back, supporting their weight as they looked upwards. Vetra’s right tertiary finger found Ryder’s pinky, quite by mistake (she told herself), the contact electrifying for the both of them. Suddenly that deeper part of Ryder’s mind which he had kept quiet so ardently flared up, yelling at him all the wonderful traits of his best friend in Heleus, shouting to him to move further, see where this connection could go. Vetra’s mind had a similar voice, though she had been largely unaware of it until now, traditional Turian stoicism silencing it more effectively than Ryder’s simple distractions. However, the two stayed where they were, their hands touching, their minds reeling at 100 kilometers a second, and the world seemed to turn just a little bit faster.

Hey guys! Sorry it's been a while since I posted. I actually graduated University last Friday!!! So, it's been a little hectic leading up to that. Anyways, this one is a lot of fluff with some movement in the end. I'm justifying to myself that part of the slow build is giving the characters time to come together on their own, but I'm so unfamiliar with this timescale in writing that I don't know whether I'm moving too fast or too slow. Feedback would be wonderful, and I hope you guys enjoy!!!

PS - If you couldn't tell, "Singularity Sailor" is this universe's Star Trek, and bears an unsurprising number of similarities.

#fics #fanfiction #Mass Effect #andromeda #mea #me: andromeda #vetra romance #mass effect vetra #vetra nyx #vetra x ryder #Ryder #male ryder

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