#where the protagonist is a bit mocked by the forgotten (and second-class people of a planet)

[shinobicyrus]

A thing that’s always low-key irked me about a lot of science-fiction set in outer space is that all the worlds encountered overwhelmingly have a single, planet-wide government.

Which I understand! Nation-states are an arbitrary and relatively modern political invention and any wide-scale space travel is a huge endeavor that would require the cooperation if not unification of an entire planet and its resources to achieve, and in some settings its an almost utopian achievement.

But the drawback is that is that sci-fi also shrinks the worlds and homogenizes them. If you go to Blorbob V, where you land is a perfect microcosm of all of Blorbob V. The people there are dressed the same, look the same, speak the same language, have basically the same set of values, and it’s the same thing across the whole planet. Or implied to be.

I guess what I’m trying to articulate is, in science-fiction, instead of rejecting the nation-state in its entirety, most sci-fi planets are reduced into a single homogenized nation-state rather than being hugely diverse places where billions of people with thousands of distinct cultures and languages exist.

[irandrura]

Anyway, more serious thoughts on chapters five and six...

The Heroes’ Relics make people turn into horrific dragon monsters. Okay. I know people assured me that this game wasn’t playing the ‘Corrupt Church’ trope entirely straight, but still, the Church of Seiros, the thirteen relics, and the crests have a million warning signs going off around them right now. Maybe most members of the church are well-meaning, but there are clearly dark and horrible secrets in Fódlan’s past.

Knowing previous Fire Emblem games, my bet is that it’s something to do with dragons, gods, betrayal, and fraught relationships with humanity. The relics look like fossilised bone to me, and I suspect that Seteth and Flayn are either dragons themselves, or somehow related to them. (I have not read spoilers on this, or if I have I’ve forgotten them, but there is something very Ninian-ish about her.) Flayn’s blood was mentioned as being special, so I wonder if crests are the results of some ancient blasphemy where dragon blood was fused with humans, or something along those lines? Add in that we have Sothis playing a Yune-like role and it’s easy to guess what might be going on.

Still, the relics and crests themselves seem dangerous, and possibly maddening. I suppose it’s for the best that I’ve never actually used the Sword of the Creator in battle. It wasn’t a principled decision or anything: I just never needed to.

There’s been some discussion of crests. As I said before, I find it strange that Dimitri is taking such an egalitarian, meritocratic line. He thinks that lineage shouldn’t matter? Nor should race, religion, or crest? Really? That’s an odd thing for a prince to believe. Who taught him those ideas? For some reason it surprises me more with Dimitri than with Edelgard, who I already had pegged as an egalitarian revolutionary in the same vein as Ashnard (albeit less over-the-top evil). There has to be something interesting going on in terms of the intellectual history of Fódlan - maybe it’s the Fódlan equivalent of the Renaissance, and old aristocratic houses are being pressured by a rising tide of enlightened humanism?

Actually, what crests most remind me of is an old AD&D setting, Birthright. I always really liked Birthright despite its lack of popularity, mainly because I loved its colourfully monstrous collection of villains in the awnsheghlien. Fódlan’s crests seem to have shaped aristocratic politics in the same way that Cerilia’s bloodlines have.

Moving on to chapter six...

Right now I am stressing more about recruiting out-of-house characters. So far I’ve only managed to grab Leonie, but hopefully I can get a few more. I hear Dorothea is pretty much a gimme - maybe that’s why she’s always on the top of the list of most-used characters it shows me via the online feature.

It’s starting to nag me that Byleth has a very specific level of ignorance about Fódlan. He’s wandered all across the continent with Jeralt and has become an experienced mercenary, the Ashen Demon, but somehow he doesn’t know anything whatsoever about the church or about geopolitics. That’s rather straining the suspension of disbelief.

I say this every time, but I wonder if the game or the story couldn’t be improved by just cutting the avatar character? I suppose Byleth is useful for allowing the player to take the teacher role, at least, and maybe he’s necessary for the Sothis plot? Even so, right now I find myself wondering why Dimitri, Claude, or Edelgard can’t just be the protagonist. I don’t hate Byleth or anything, but he’s definitely less interesting than the others.

Other character stuff has been fun so far. I did the paralogue, ‘War for the Weak’, where you try to resolve a Duscur rebellion. I was a bit confused there: judging from Dedue, I thought the people of Duscur were generally dark-skinned, but that didn’t seem to be the case with the Duscur units on the map. I guess Duscur is in the northern part of the continent, and Faerghus is supposed to be quite cold, so it would be unusual for there to be a whole nation of dark-skinned people there? I don’t know. The impression I got was that Duscurs generally have bronze skin, dark eyes, and white or red hair, as opposed to the extremely pale and frequently blond, blue-or-green-eyed Faerghans. But I don’t know how much thought was put into the ethnography of this world.

On the chapter six battle itself... so, okay, the Death Knight and the Flame Emperor escaped, but I did defeat thirty or so of their minions. Did we not take any of them alive? I feel like we should be able to interrogate some of them. At the very least, I’d like to take this conspiracy a bit more seriously? Could we maybe ransack Jeritza’s quarters? Search for papers? Maybe Byleth’s class can’t do that - I would say that they’re students and shouldn’t be trusted with such sensitive assignments, except that they were tasked to recover the Lance of Ruin and trusted to keep quiet about the relics turning people into monsters - but it’d be nice to know that someone is doing that.

But instead apparently we’re going to go off and have a mock battle between the three houses. I feel like I should be able to make joke about the Hogwarts House Cup, but I can’t figure out a good way into it...

Finally, on characters and supports:

I have gotten a handful of supports with out-of-house characters, and they feel odd. It’s bizarre to have a C support with Ferdinand where he asks how I think he stacks up compared to Edelgard: it is clearly written with the assumption that I’m the Black Eagle teacher. If the game was going to allow you to do out-of-house supports, I would have expected the supports to be written to avoid that issue.

Among the Blue Lions, the supports so far have ranged from the genuinely insightful or heartwarming to the merely banal. I have gotten a few C supports that feel like this, although to be fair mostly featuring Felix, and Felix is an arse. Nonetheless, by being the only Blue Lion who’s just a jerk, Felix’s supports have actually helped to illustrate some of the internal tensions. He is genuinely awful to Dedue and Dimitri, but if he wasn’t, it would not clarify for the player that there’s some sort of dark, angsty secret in Dimitri’s past.

(I don’t know what that secret is: he didn’t explain it in Heroes. I believe it has something to do with knowing Edelgard as a child, and perhaps Edelgard’s secret second crest; and perhaps also it’s hinted that Dimitri was involved in a massacre? But I don’t know or remember the details.)

As for the others, oho, Gilbert is Annette’s dad, Mercedes has some Birthright-esque drama with a noble house in the Empire (and, okay, I did read enough to know about Jeritza), Ingrid and Ashe continue to be generally nice, and Sylvain would be an excellent person if he wasn’t bent on harassing women all the time.

I do wonder sometimes what’s going on with that... is it just a Fire Emblem series trope that there’s always a guy who vocally flirts with every women he sees and is genuinely unable to control himself? Is it a Japanese thing? To my Western eyes it’s starting to get a bit tiresome. I don’t want to get super-political, but I feel like after the whole #MeToo thing Western commentators are going to be a lot more sensitive to stories that depict constant unwanted flirting as a harmless, even entertaining character trait. I don’t know. There’s probably something going on there that I don’t get.

Oh, well. I still made Sylvain kill his brother. Was that cruel of me? I guess his brother was a horrible monstrous dragon at the time...

Anyway, on with trying to recruit more characters, and then the tournament!

[derevosky]

If home is where the heart is, then we're fucked. [1/4]

A RusAme fanfic | Read it on AO3 / FF.net

Chapter 1: The United States of America

A nation's life could be tiring on daily basis, but if there wasn't much of a big deal on national standards, they'd simply stroll in their cities, and maybe interact with few people, so they could learn more about them, well, themselves. A nation is the embodiment of the country's people, after all.

Except, America didn't have that luxury. He is a superpower nation wherein everything is a big deal, even if it doesn't concern his country. He is a hero, as he'd say. Although, helping other countries had him exhausted, and he was still worried for them. He was getting envious that other countries had time to wander in their respective cities, or even the small towns. Germany told him stories, or rather vent for a while, about how North Italy seemed to flirt with his people. "I guess that's just his way of knowing his people." Germany commented, or tried to convince himself. America was glad that his fellow nations were comfortable enough to share their stories from time to time.

He heard from England, or Canada, (he wasn't really sure thanks to the workload occupying his mind) that France took a girl to a tour in Paris, even telling her historical facts and whatnot. Either of them noted that France thought she was Jeanne d'Arc, or someone of his history as he told them. He was happy for that girl who was now living peacefully; it was somehow inspiring to America. Even when Davie-, er, they had forgotten about him, he'd like to know that his heroes, his people, wound up living a good life today. 'It would be nice that those ordinary people of the past would have the chance to be heroes.' He mused. So, he decided to take a break for the first time in many years of service. He knew he deserved it.

That night, America had "nothing" to do but walk along the streets, and observed his people. He went inside a café, and ordered a cup of coffee. When he got his order, he sat quietly on a chair outside. He sipped his coffee while taking in the scenery. The city was lively as usual, thanks to its neon lights, and vibrant noises from his people. The movie theater in front of him was full of lanes to the ticket booths, while some cars near the establishment could violate at least one or two traffic laws as he'd assume, not that he'd mind. 'The people are sure crazy for the premier, huh?' He grab a stick out of his pack of cigarette, along with his lighter. He lit up the cigarette on his mouth; he took a drag, and as he was about to exhale it graciously, he coughed it thanks to a certain nation he didn't want to see. The tall ashen blond looked furious as he approached the bespectacled blond. America didn't bother to read his face as he was about to interrogate the Russian man.

"Hey, Russia, what the hell are you doing here?!" America yelled, almost causing a scene thanks to his abrasive, high-pitched voice. Good thing, they were outside, and the noise he made was nothing compared to the crowd and the vehicles that surrounded them.

The tall man was bewildered, not really getting why the blond was shouting at him like that. "Uhm, yes, I am from Russia." He stated, annoyed by the lack of manners his companion showed. "What the hell am I doing here? I was looking for you the whole day, Alfred. Didn't you receive my texts? I even tried to call you at least forty times!" He said as his voice was getting louder in every word.

America realized he was indeed not talking to a nation, but a human who looked so much like his rival. He noticed how different, and strikingly similar they were, from the shape of his face to his defined nose. He had dark blue eyes with a bit of bright brown that they seemed purple. They had the same hairstyle, the same complexion, and even the same built. It was no wonder the nation would mistake him as the embodiment of the Russian Federation. Although, he wasn't wearing a scarf, nor tried hiding his neck. He was wearing a maroon v-neck shirt, and America somehow found it odd for some reason.

"Oh, what's your name again?" He asked sheepishly.

"Ivan." He deadpanned. "I can't believe you're suddenly asking me that. C'mon, we're late thanks to you. I think the movie was about to start. The people are starting to go inside." The ashen blond said impatiently as he walked towards the theater. America was impressed by the way he talked; there was still a bit of the Russian accent, but it was charmingly American in a way. It was a weird mix, and somehow America find it cute, no, er, funny. He never thought he'd witness Russia, at least his doppelganger, talked like that.

He noticed the blond wasn't following him, and returned. "Well? Didn't you insist watching this movie with me or?" He said, still impatient, and America found it amusing on how this lookalike acted like his fellow nation. 'So, does that mean Alfred looks like me? I haven't encountered anyone who looked like me in any century. This could be interesting.' He thought, he'd like to drop the act and tell him he's mistaken but-

"Yeah, yeah. Leggo." He gulped his lukewarm coffee in one shot, and pressed the used cigarette in an ashtray. He didn't really have anything to do this night except for stressing himself, so he headed towards the movie theater.

"Since when did you start smoking?” He asked, not that he mind; he knew Alfred always talked about smoking being a silly slow suicide, but today it seemed he got a change of heart. “And, when did you get that jacket? It looks great on you." Ivan noted, and took America's hand on his own.

America flinched, "Uh, dude? Why are you holding my hand?" He felt his face getting warmer. He wasn't really touchy-touchy with Russians, particularly the nation one. Besides, not only they look alike, but also act alike.

"Can't I just hold my boyfriend's hand in peace? You were late, you know. I feel like forgiving you because you look awesome tonight." Ivan pointed out, and hummed as he smiled like a child, and America found it weird that Russia, er, this Russian said 'awesome' in that weird Russian-American accent, if there was such a thing.

"Oh, riiiiight." He said, and he laughed weakly, flustered. He was kinda regretting his life choices.

When they got to the line, they were at the end, and the people were slowly getting inside thanks to a bit of pushing, and chaotic excitement. America mentally thanked Ivan for choosing a superhero movie, Eaglemask specifically. Ivan gave their tickets, and proceeded. They still held hands, and America was bothered as Ivan gripped him tighter, leading the way as they walked inside the dark theater.

When they sat on their designated seats by the middle aisle, America took the chance to let go of Ivan's hand, and pretended to fix his glasses.

"Do you want popcorn? Coke? I brought vodka." He asked him with affection, took the chance to grace his boyfriend's hand.

"What? Why'd you brought vodka? No way, man." He whispered above his breath.

He pouted. "But, we always spike our drinks when we go to the movies." America swore this man is a child, just like Russia. Yet, his puppy eyes were effective thanks to the cute face he's making, it almost killed the nation inside. 'No, I don't find him cute, pft.'

He fought it but, "…Fine."

"Yay!" Ivan chirped, and America swore his seatmate is Russia.

When the trailers were about to start, Ivan called the popcorn vendor, and he ordered four buckets since he's used to his boyfriend's appetite. Then, he ordered three large cups of coke since only three could occupy their cupholders. Their seatmates didn't seem to mind.

Ivan brought out his flask surreptitiously, and put vodka on their drinks. Now, America was curious to know more of Alfred, because why… why did he allow this kind of thing on a regular basis? He dismissed his thought, and watched the remaining trailers instead.

As the movie started, they were munching on their popcorns, and America was already done with his first bucket. He grabbed his second, while Ivan was still eating his own, and taking sips from the vodka-coke. America didn't think twice and drank his coke straight, and forgot that it has vodka. Then, it hit him thanks to the aftertaste. 'Oh, fuck.'

In broad daylight, the Russian villain caused a scene while maniacally laughing, the roads were broken thanks to his gigantic tank, and Eaglemask was there to save the day. The villain spewed his evil plan in a cringey Russian accent. Of course, what would be a superhero movie without those corny dialogue?

Ivan laughed, wiping his tears. "Oh gosh, they're so horrible!" He still couldn't stop laughing thanks to the crappy dialogue, and the horrible accent.

America was peeved by his reaction so he defended the movie. "What? No! It's actually an inspiring speech!"

"If you say so." Ivan snorted, exhaled from laughing, and took a sip of his drink.

Behind his secret identity, Eaglemask was Nathan Wright, a regularly bullied high-school student with no redeeming qualities, except for acing history classes. He was used to his life, and even as a superhero, he promised to himself that he'd be cool with it; that he won't lose his temper. Well, his superpowers were just flight; his superstrength was just something his ability could offer thanks to the logic of physics.

"An underdog, as usual." Ivan commented, as if mocking the American films, and America was almost pissed. 'Come on, clichés are sometimes necessary! People may be used to it, but they still enjoy it, and this could teach kids a lesson about patience!'

The popular high-school girl, June McLaurin, waved at the protagonist, and he was pleasantly surprised. 'She knows me?' Nathan wanted to fly above the clouds, literally, and so he did, after school.

"Teenage hormones." Ivan giggled a little.

"Give him a break, it's the love of his life!" He defended, complete with hand gestures.

"You're really funny today, Alfred." He took the blond's comment as some kind of sarcastic remark, because it was their kind of humor. Of course America didn't know that, and he didn't notice how Ivan's arm wrapped around him.

It was revealed that June knew about Nathan's superhero identity; that's why she was acting friendly towards the protagonist. Nathan didn't know how to feel about it until June kissed him senseless.

America noticed how close Ivan got as he felt his seatmate's hand caressing his hair to his nape. He was leaning forward, about to kiss his boyfriend, and America laughed so obnoxiously loud they were shushed by others in the cinema. Ivan glared at him and retreated to his seat, and simply held hands with the blond, although tighter. America knew he was pissed despite his intoxicated state.

The girl, of course, became a damsel in distress, and it was up to Eaglemask to save her. The Russian villain reappeared, and revealed his plan to terrorize the city. After some series of lame fight scenes, Eaglemask won, and get to kiss the girl.

When the credits were rolling, Ivan took long sips of both of their drinks, stood up coldly, and walked in large strides while America barely followed him thanks to the crowd, and his throbbing head. He was glad that his companion was tall enough to be seen in the sea of people.

When they got outside the theater, Ivan still walked briskly, and headed to his SUV by the establishment. He unlocked the doors, and America awkwardly rode shotgun. Ivan didn't start the car yet, because he was visibly fuming.

"What is wrong with you?! First, I couldn't contact you. Second, you shouted at me for who knows why, and third, you humiliated me!" He said, exasperated, more so seeing his boyfriend play dumb. "Какого хрена ты тут вытворяешь?! Почему так поступаешь со мной?" He muttered with enough volume to express his frustration, his brows furrowed while he glowered at the blond.

'Okay, I had no idea what he's saying but, damn, I think I fucked up big time.' America scratched his head, a bit guilty, and tried to face the ashen blond. He placed his hand on his shoulder.

"I-I, I'm sorry man. I'm just, kinda stressed with what's happening to the world." He said rather sincerely. Well, it is true. That's why he's here.

"You are?" He said, still trying to be indignant. "That's quite out of character?" He noted. "I mean, how thoughtful of you." His eyes soften a bit. "But, that doesn't mean you had to treat me like shit." He glared once again as he tapped his hand off his shoulder.

"I, uh, dude. I'm really sorry! Let me make up to you."

"You didn't even laugh with me."

"C'mon. I did!" He did but before he knew it wasn't a good answer, Ivan's face scrunched.

"But you made a fool out of me!" Ivan retorted as he remembered the embarrassing scenario.

"I'm sorry," He said with raised hands. "It was a really bad timing. I wasn't really in the mood."

"Why? You're suddenly concerned for the world, or something? What a lame excuse." He was visibly angry, although, it was America's turn to be offended.

"Hey! First of all, I am very stressed with what's happening to the world." He snapped. "For the first time, I felt tired, sick of helping others while I still need to fix myself! But nooo, I'm still fucking worried for others, and I'm still paranoid that somehow they'll leave me because they got what they want from me. And, my boss is really annoying but I have no choice. Like, I don't fucking need another cold war with North Korea, and China has been really annoying lately. Philippines' boss somehow hates me, and somehow became buddies with Russia, like, what the fuck?" He ranted, and Ivan barely followed his words as they were getting faster. "Oh, and the hurricane. It's such a lovely timing! The economic growth will stay stuck in the low 2% range. Goddamn, perfect. And for some reason, I'm worried for Cuba, like, wow, Cuba?" He said, his voice raising. "And, and, the crime rates are getting higher here I don't even want to fucking know why. I'm kinda considering England, and, and Europe in the travel ban. But no, it's just my people's idea. No wait, I am my people. Oh gosh, I hate this so much."

Ivan was confused, and astonished. He was too surprised that his anger faded away. 'Is he drunk?' The Russian mused.

"Even my brother, Canada, had to mock me! I just want to achieve world peace, is that too much to ask?" He bawled, of course with hand gestures.

Ivan had enough of his boyfriend's rambling, and-

"Heck, I wished that the cold war didn't happen- Oomf!" America was cut off, now aware of the hand on his back, and his mind barely registered that Ivan fucking grabbed and kissed him.

America, regrettably, responded to his kiss with his eyes closed, as Ivan glided his tongue on his bottom lip. His lips tasted like that vodka-coke they drank earlier, but the vodka was stronger, and somehow sweet. America subconsciously graced his head with his hand, ruffling a bit of his hair, and caressed his neck. Ivan leaned more thanks to the sensations, bumped his nose on his cheek, and that made America giggle as his breath was airy. The vibration encouraged Ivan to move his hands to the sides of his face, and slid his tongue inside his mouth. America yelped, and tried to counter him by tracing his tongue, earning a moan from flushed ashen blond. Ivan didn't really want to give in easily, so his hands travelled to his back, and licked his ear instead. America shivered, "Oh my fucking god." He held his breath while Ivan continued sucking his ear. America, of course, didn't want to lose, and leaned to his neck to suck which left enough hickeys.

The car was filled with sensual noises, a bit of rocking even it was turned off. Meanwhile, two people nearby approached the vehicle, the blond was worried while the taller one was chuckling.

On the inclined passenger seat, as they were grinding their crotches, about to undress each other, they were barely interrupted by a knock on the window until it was harder.

"Ugh, we're in the middle of- Oh fuck." America uttered while he was below Ivan who was still licking his nipples.

"Привет, America!" A familiar voice, muffled, from outside greeted.

"What the hell is going on?!" The blond, who looked so much like America, said bewildered, as he opened the door, good thing it was unlocked in the first place.

"Oh, hi Alfred." America waved awkwardly while his lookalike was still in shock.

"Huh?" Ivan stopped and looked at America, annoyed because of the interruption.

"Здравствуй, Vanya!" Russia sing-songed while Ivan became finally aware with his surroundings.

"Что за блять?" The Russian man couldn't believe his eyes. The man before him could be his doppelganger, because they look so much alike that they could trade places… wait. Alfred? No.

"Who the heck are you?!" Ivan jumped away from America, then stood outside with Alfred and Russia.

"I cannot believe you could do this, America! Do you miss me that much?" Russia joked which ticked off America.

"Wait, America? Is this some kind of joke?" Ivan interjected, and then looked at Russia. "Does this mean you're Russia?" He turned to America and said, "Is this why you called me Russia? Who the hell are you people?" He looked to the both of them, while Alfred was scratching his head. He was secretly amused by his boyfriend's reaction.

America had no clue how to handle this situation, especially seeing Russia amused like the little shit he is.

"Great. Fucking great."

.

.

Translation:

Привет, Здравствуй Hi, hello

Что за блять? What the fuck?

Какого хрена ты вытворяешь?! Почему так поступаешь со мной? Fuck, I cannot believe you, why the hell are you doing this to me?

(Thank you, yantiskra, for helping me with Russian dialogues!)

So basically this is a crackfic ahaha I’m so sorry to those who spent time reading this.

Not-so-fun facts!

1. I had met someone who looked like me, although they’re more attractive.

2. My ex and I used to drink ‘vodka-coke’ in the movie theaters. (Although, it’s not vodka but brandy, and it’s not coke but sprite, so it’s actually brandy-sprite.)

3. The title is a lyric from 27 by Fall Out Boy.

4. To be honest, I found it hard to decide on the title. First, it was ‘Two Pairs of Dorks’ ...but they’re not really being dorks in this fic ahaha. Second, I thought of ‘What a Drag’ in reference to America smoking and being dragged along, but it felt ‘mediocre’ or ‘ordinary’ sounding. Lastly, I settled on ‘If home is where the heart is, then we’re fucked.’ Even though it’s long, it kinda works as a pun to the fic if you think about it, well, so far for the next chapters ahaha