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grigori77 · 4 months

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2023 in TV - My Top 10 Shows

10. THE MANDALORIAN (Season 3)

The fortunes of post-George Lucas Star Wars have really fluctuated over this past decade, for almost every blissful high there has been an excruciating low to tip the balance back on its axis … thank the gods, then, for the consistent success of Lucasfilm’s biggest success story since they were bought by Disney, their streaming service’s epic and expansive series following the (mis)adventures of Mandalorian bounty hunter Din Djarin (the legendary Pedro Pascal) and his adopted ward, the impossibly adorable Force-sensitive baby Grogu. The show’s gone through some major shake-ups as it’s expanded its outlook in the SW universe beyond just Din’s own experiences to take in the larger canon, and some purists have complained that it’s starting to lose its identity because of this, but as long as Jon Favreau and Dave Filoni continue to present a finished product of this consistently high standard it’ll remain EMINENTLY worthy of our time. I for one actually really LOVED the greater prominence of Katee Sackhoff’s Mandalorian royal scion Bo-Katan Kryze throughout this third season as her rise to prominence makes her almost as much of a key character now as Din himself, and given how this season delivers what feels like a comfortable close to the original Mando’s story, I think this does a really beautiful job of setting up how the series could most smoothly continue in the future. So long as it remains as exciting, inventive, emotionally rewarding and downright GORGEOUS as it has been, I’ll keep watching.

9. THE GREAT (Season 3)

Hulu’s opulent black comedy satire from Aussie playwright and screenwriter Tony MacNamara (The Favourite, Poor Things) recounting the youthful rise to power of the mighty world-renowned Russian monarch Catherine the Great (albeit very loosely) has been a very enjoyable TV distraction these past few years, particularly once things starting really going to shit, and this latest (seemingly LAST) season is no exception. Elle Fanning continues to excel in what’s become the best role she’s had to date as Catherine, still effervescently self-confident despite her growing exasperation with her ongoing struggle to bring her adopted home of Tsarist Russia into Enlightenment and away from the far more base urges that have held it in their grip for so long. This is made all the more difficult by her persistently complicated and tempestuous love-hate-love-hate-love-murder-murder-stabby-stabby relationship with her husband Peter III (the always brilliant Nicholas Hoult), who’s FINALLY trying to learn to better himself for the sake of his own deep love (and throbbing carnal obsession) for his wife and the mother of his adorable infant son Paul. Fresh difficulties arise to baffle the lovers at every turn, from dastardly courtly machinations to civil unrest and an EXTREMELY ill-advised “accidental” war with Sweden, and it doesn’t help that their various friends and advisors – including Phoebe Fox’ spiky Marial Brezhnev, Peter’s complicated aunt, the Empress Elizabeth (the delightfully ODD Belinda Bromilow), and, of course, Adam Godley’s spectacularly perverted Russian Orthodox Archbishop “Archie” Samsa – largely seem to be in it for themselves. It’s anarchically brilliant as ever, every episode proving more chaotically unpredictable, gleefully off-the-wall and endearingly, downright FILTHILY hilarious than the last – it’s a rare thing indeed to get a comedy show that’s THIS fiendishly ingenious, making it a consistent must-watch. Unfortunately, the story has finally reached its (admittedly wise) conclusion, but I’d love to see Fanning revisit Russia’s greatest ruler sometime in the future …

8. AHSOKA

It was one of my greatest pleasures from the second season of The Mandalorian to get to see the live action (re)introduction of Anakin Skywalker’s wayward padawan Ahsoka Tano, now grown up and truly come into her own despite years spent in self-imposed exile after the Galactic Jedi pogroms and the subsequent collapse of the Empire. Seeing her return (however briefly) in the ultimately disappointing Book of Boba Fett was one of that show’s saving graces, so it seemed to only be a matter of time before she got her own series on Disney+, and gods knew I was one of the most hopeful. Thankfully, the wait has not been in vain – this is BY FAR the best piece of Star Wars-based TV I’ve had the pleasure of indulging in this year, Dave Filoni not only allowing us to spend plenty more time with our girl but also getting to see a resolution to the open ending of the very enjoyable Rebels series as we see some of her key Rebellion-era comrades return as well. Rosario Dawson has really grown into the title role now, bringing fresh nuance and complexity to a character who was already SO INTERESTING, and the new additions here are very welcome ones, particularly Natasha Liu Bordizzo (The Society) as my very favourite Mandalorian, Sabine Wren, who’s become Ahsoka’s very reluctant apprentice after showing some small aptitude with the Force, as well as the late Ray Stevenson and Ivanna Sakhno (The Spy Who Dumped Me) as mercenary former Jedi Baylan Skoll and his vicious apprentice Shin Hatti, who are working to bring the infamous Imperial Grand Admiral Thrawn (the legendary Lars Mikkelsen, finally getting to portray his chillingly masterful villain in live action) back to the Galaxy Far, Far Away. This is a rich, evocative and epic adventure story that takes this well-trod universe to intriguing and exotic new worlds as it opens the saga out to intriguing new possibilities, and while this was conceived as a limited series I’m personally holding out real hope for more moving forward … and I KNOW I ain’t alone …

7. GOOD OMENS 2

Neil Gaiman’s adaptation of his own much beloved collaborative novel with the legendary late fantasy author Sir Terry Pratchett was such a perfect piece of television that it was a no-brainer for Amazon Prime to greenlight more, making it most fortuitous that the two writers had already made impressive progress planning further adventures for the wayward divine duo of the angel Aziraphael (Michael Sheen) and the devil Crowley (David Tennant), so he already had a starting point for more. Ultimately this is less THAT specific story than a bridge between the main story from the novel which formed the first season and the next saga, but that doesn’t make this any less worthwhile an experience, Gaiman again proving he’s one of the very best writers OUT THERE by presenting us with another exquisitely crafted sextet of hour-long episodes of gleefully comic theology-themed speculative fantasy which does a beautiful job of expanding the universe and offering rich and rewarding new character arcs for our two favourite gay angels. Giving away much of any of the plot would do the brilliantly twisty story an injustice, suffice to say that the arrival of a VERY NAKED amnesiac archangel Michael (the wonderfully game Jon Hamm in a MUCH more expanded role this time round) on the doorstep of Azirapahael’s book shop sets another potentially cataclysmic true-existential crisis into gear which will have massive repercussions for our reluctant heroes moving forward into the inevitable third season. Nice to see that Amazon have ALREADY asked Gaiman to bring the series to a satisfactory close, then.

6. THE LEGEND OF VOX MACHINA (Season 2)

More rightly renewed genius from Amazon Prime, this time with the second season of the animated adaptation of the first campaign of Critical Role’s TTRPG live-play webcast series, still undeniable essential viewing for both fans of professional Dungeon Master Matt Mercer and his friend’s online antics and just those who enjoy their fantasy adventures a bit more irreverent and adult. Given that the second major arc of the campaign was already a doozy, I knew ahead of time we were moving into what was sure to become an even more potent stretch of the saga than we got in the already impressive first season, and the deeply-committed folk behind it have NOT disappointed with this follow-up. The stakes have been raised CONSIDERABLY as the fantastical land of Tal’dorei falls under the brutal sway of the Chroma Conclave, a collective of tyrannical dragons bent on bloody conquest, so it’s up to the dysfunctional adventuring party of Vox Machina to save the day. Oh dear … this is JUST as much fun as the first season, with plenty more thrilling action, side-splitting satirical comedy (thank you AGAIN Sam Riegel for the gift of pure, unadulterated R-rated JOY that is the gnomish bard Scanlan Shorthalt) and inspired creative invention, but once again proceedings are tempered with plenty of powerful emotional heft and heartfelt LOVE for the characters these players created and remain STRONGLY connected to so many years later. Since Amazon wisely made the decision to commission the THIRD season WELL in advance of the second’s release we already know there’s more coming, and given where I already know this story is headed I can’t help getting REAL excited for its future …

5. THE LAST OF US

Okay, here we go, finally time for the proper ORIGINAL STUFF … yeah, it’s been a particularly great year for new IPs on the small screen, meaning that my Top Five all get to be completely fresh and “original” properties instead of continuations or spinoffs from existing series. One of the most deservedly long-awaited, well-received and rightly ACCLAIMED new shows to emerge in 2023 was HBO’s highly anticipated adaptation of the much beloved post-apocalyptic zombie survival horror video game series from Naughty Dog, and their wise move to team the games’ original creator Neil Druckmann with Craig Mazin, the man behind the now legendary Chernobyl miniseries, has paid off SPECTACULARLY here, since this is one of the very best TV series I’ve come across in a good long while, a work of breathless brilliance and soul-destroying POWER which just left me SPEECHLESS at the end of SEVERAL episodes in its all-too-brief run back in the New Year. Pedro Pascal may be The Mandalorian, but I think he's found his TRUE greatest role EVER here in Joel Miller, the world-weary survivor of a particularly nasty zombie apocalypse who lost EVERYTHING in the collapse, only to be given an opportunity twenty years later to make a difference when he’s charged with taking Ellie (Game of Thrones’ Bella Ramsey), a wilfully tough teenage girl who’s IMMUNE to the cordyceps fungal infection that brought down the world, across the American hellscape in the hope that she can help with the creation of a cure. Given that Joel lost his own daughter in the initial outbreak they naturally start to bond, their burgeoning connection creating a powerful driving throughline at the heart of the series as it goes from bad to worse to TRULY FUCKED and beyond … this is everything The Walking Dead always tried to be but never QUITE managed to become, a brutally challenging but infinitely rewarding tale of hope, love and compassion in the face of Armageddon, and since there’s still a second game to adapt and plenty of potential for expansion besides, I for one CANNOT WAIT for the second season’s arrival in 2025 …

4. SCAVENGERS REIGN

It’s also been another really great year for ANIMATION, particularly grown-up fare, and this brand new series for Max was EASILY the year’s most unusual and effortlessly ORIGINAL piece of work, in some ways frequently becoming downright DISTURBING, but often with a stark, challenging BEAUTY to even its most TWISTED creations. Relative newcomers Joseph Bennett and Charles Hueffner have taken their original short film and expended it into a sci-fi story of rare vision and endless invention, following a scattered collection of desperate survivors from a colony ship crashed on a miraculous but deeply hostile alien world fighting to reach what’s left of their ship in order to have a fighting chance of building a new life, maybe even ESCAPE if at all possible. They’re an interesting and rewardingly well-rounded collection of characters, each of their disparate storylines providing equally fascinating arcs across the series as they encounter weird, wonderful, unfathomable and sometimes downright TERRIFYING alien phenomenon building up to a thrilling and suspenseful climax which gives the season a strong conclusion while laying ground for possible future development. The animation from Titmouse (The Legend of Vox Machina, Pantheon) is FIRST RATE and refreshingly unique, with the design-work frequently reaching OFF-THE-CHART levels of artistic creativity, while the writing proves impressively robust too, creating realistic character arcs and compelling stories that keep the viewer invested to the end. Given how the ultimate climax, I wouldn’t be sad if this really WAS all we got, but I hope this gets picked up for more, it’s DEFINITELY worth signing up for a longer haul ...

3. ONE PIECE

Another year with Netflix DOMINATING the small screen with their Original Programming then, although I’ll admit when they were putting THIS together I was, like a whole lot of people, extremely pessimistic of its chances. If there’s ONE THING I’ve learned over the years as a fan of the genre, it is EXCEEDINGLY RARE for Western adaptations of manga and anime to work, PARTICULARLY in live action – like many, I STILL ain’t gotten over the HORROR of what Netflix themselves did to my beloved Cowboy Bebop … thankfully, somebody in creative control was paying attention to that, because FOR ONCE, this is one of those infinitely rare occasions where it’s actually WORKS, and VERY WELL INDEED. Thankfully, the original creator of One Piece, Eiichiro Oda, was brought onboard as creative consultant by showrunners Matt Owens and Steven Maeda (Lie To Me), and they CLEARLY listened to him because this is EVERY INCH a madcap, sprawling classic anime comedy adventure show brought to vivid life in live action – I’ll be honest, I never actually got into the manga or anime myself, there’s just WAY too much of it for me to even know where to begin or really want to commit to it, but I’ve watched plenty of other shows like this, and I’ve learned the ropes well enough to know they got it VERY RIGHT here. It’s a fantastically rich world for their creatives and an incredibly game cast to play in too – obviously, the beating, thriving HEART of the series is, rightly, Iñaki Godoy (The Imperfects) as Monkey D. Luffy, the irrepressibly UPBEAT wannabe pirate who wants to find the legendary treasure of the title and become truly the new King of the Pirates, although like many I’m sure I definitely fell hardest for Roronoa Zoro (Mackenyu), a roguish master swordsman who wields THREE BLADES, and Sanji (Gassed Up’s Taz Skylar), a talented cook and unapologetic ladies’ man who’s also a powerful martial artist who fights exclusively with his FEET. The whole crew that Luffy brings together are a sweet, lovable bunch, while the bizarre assortment of freakish pirates, criminals and marines they encounter are uniformly bizarre and thoroughly memorable, while the show is a masterclass in controlled anarchy, well-written character work and the perfect balance of riotous comedy and stirring pathos. The end result was definitely the year’s most effortlessly ENJOYABLE TV show, and one I’m definitely in for the long run with. Good thing Netflix have already greenlit season 2 …

2. THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER

Mike Flanagan really has become one of Netflix’ most powerful secret weapons, each one of his original series proving to be an undeniable MASTERPIECE of inventive writing and ingenious direction coupled with sheer, heart-wrecking FEELS. Such is the case with his latest offering, an admittedly BALLSY take on the collective works of Edgar Allan Poe, all filtered through a modern-day reimagining of one of his most famous stories, although this is definitely something a little different from Flanagan. This time, instead of focusing on a family of dysfunctional but ultimately decent people who love each other deep down, the Usher clan are, almost to a man, some of the most DESPICABLE excuses for human beings you’d probably never wish to really encounter in your life. The head of the family, Roderick (another magnificent turn from the great Bruce Greenwood, alongside Midnight Mass’ equally excellent Zach Gilford as his younger self), is a morally bankrupt born salesman who seized control of the massive pharmaceutical conglomerate of Fortunato with the help of his even more viciously sociopathic genius twin sister Madeline (Mary McDonnell and Willa Fitzgerald), and his equally precocious offspring are, collectively AND individually, just as unpleasant as him – the only ray of light is his granddaughter Lenore (Doctor Sleep’s Kyliegh Curran), the only Usher with compassion, decency and a truly gentle heart. Unfortunately their empire is built on lies, murder and a dark, demonic bargain made with an unknowable angel of death, Verna (Carla Gugino), who’s finally come to collect on the debt, and she plans on taking THE WHOLE FAMILY as payment. This is the most PURE piece of horror that Flanagan has made to date, his usual restraint largely absent as he lets rip in a series of brutally ironic and fiendishly twisted murderous reckonings that sees each member of the family meet the worst fates you could possible imagine, while the true monstrous depths of how this all came to be are slowly revealed in typically non-linear narrative fashion. In the end, while The Haunting of Hill House remains Flanagan’s finest hour on the small screen, this may be his finest work for Netflix since, and it’s definitely the darkest and most cathartically MONSTROUS work he’s produced to date. I really do hope he lets his dark side out to play again before too long …

1. BLUE EYE SAMURAI

While we champ at the bit for the long-awaited second season of Arcane, Netflix have thrown us a fresh bone to chew on in the meantime with this truly INCREDIBLE new adult animated series from screenwriter Michael Green (Logan, Blade Runner 2049), who co-showruns here with his wife Amber Noizumi and animation storyboarder-turned-director Jane Wu (Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse). To be honest, this show could have been PRECISION CRAFTED expressly to appeal directly to ME, this is SO MANY THINGS I love all in one package – it’s a gorgeously animated, super-violent action thrill series telling the story of Mizu (Man Seeking Woman’s Maya Erskine), a half-white, half-Japanese woman who has to hide both her heritage AND her gender as she wanders Edo period Japan as a lethal ronin samurai in search of the unknown white man who fathered her so she can murder him for making her a monster in the eyes of the country she was born in. Thankfully there are only FOUR of them in Japan at this time, and her current target is Irish gunrunner Abijah Fowler (a fantastically oily vocal performance from Kenneth Brannagh, who gets to use the accent he originally grew up with), a brutally subtle hulk of a man who’s got his own far-reaching plans for the conquest of the very country he’s a dirty little secret in … Mizu is an INCREDIBLE creation, a fierce warrior with truly astounding talent with a blade matched only by her ice cold determination to mete out her vengeance by ANY MEANS NECESSARY, and I am ABSOLUTELY BESOTTED with her, I swear. Fowler, meanwhile, is one of the very best and most well-written, super complex villains I have come across in a good long time, while he’s just another one of a whole RAFT of fully fleshed out and compelling characters which also includes Darren Barnet (Never Have I Ever) as arrogant but principled samurai Taigen and Heroes’ Masi Oka, who frequently STEALS THE SHOW as Ringo, a portly sushi chef born without hands who becomes Mizu’s incredibly unlikely protégé through sheer force of will and an unendingly sunny disposition. The action sequences are some of the best the year’s offered up, captured in a fascinating mixture of 3D flare with a distinctive mock hand-painted 2D finish which makes for some very distinctive animation that obviously owes a whole lot to the influence of Arcane, paying off equally well in the distinctive character designs and gorgeous watercolour-styled panoramic vistas. Most of all, this is some of THE MOST SKILLFUL writing I came across in all of 2023, even putting some of the year’s most impressive BIG SCREEN offerings to shame with its ingenious plotting, peerless character development and handling of intriguing, powerful themes of gender and sexual identity, body positivity and systemic racism which are just as potent today as they were in the historical period they represent. This is IMPORTANT television then, but most of all it’s just DAMN FINE WORK, and I cannot wait for the now greenlit second season to arrive …

Honourable mentions:

Our Flag Means Death (season 2, HBO Max), Sweet Tooth (season 2, Netflix), Loki (season 2, Disney+), Scott Pilgrim Takes Off (Netflix), Foundation (season 2, Apple TV+), Star Trek: Stange New Worlds (season 2, Paramount+), Shadow & Bone (season 2, Netflix), Chainsaw Man (Crunchyroll), The Witcher (season 3, Netflix), The Wheel of Time (season 2, Amazon Prime Video)

#best tv shows of 2023 #the mandalorian #the great #ahsoka #ahsoka series #good omens 2 #the legend of vox machina #the last of us #the last of us hbo #scavengers reign #one piece #one piece live action #one piece netflix #the fall of the house of usher #blue eye samurai

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shysublimecoffee · 4 months

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Indeed, Astruc's idealization of Adrien, bordering on perfection, seems to mirror the pedestal on which the fandom often places him. It's a bit ironic, given the sarcastic undertones, especially when compared to other characters in isekai harem anime or shonen manga, such as those in Naruto. In those cases, fans actively advocate for character development and potential, cheering for the female leads. Adrien, on the other hand, is almost comically devoid of agency – a situation that borders on the absurd as he doesn't even get to cheer among the finale battle no... he's just taken out of it.

These female characters cater to their, admittedly, lustful and rather pathetic protagonists in a genre often criticized for its saturation with the male gaze and the objectification of women. What's noteworthy is that, despite these criticisms, their fandoms actively advocate for the characters' development and agency. Now, enter Adrien, a character in a cartoon ostensibly centered around girl power, and one might expect a departure from such issues. Instead, it appears they've taken a detour in the opposite direction. It struck me that in a narrative where Adrien's story, from season one onwards, revolves around unwittingly battling his villainous father, he's left with little more than a footnote at the end. In contrast, every other character, be it Marinette, Felix, or even Kagami, receives substantial contributions to HIS storylines. It's a realization that prompts the question of whether the writers are intentionally steering Adrien's narrative into this peculiar direction.

I firmly believe that the writing team is purposefully sidelining Adrien from the central narrative to prevent him from overshadowing Marinette because that would encourage the fandom to perceive him as an individual character, distinct from his connection with Marinette.

From the very onset in season one, Adrien has been crafted primarily as eye candy—acknowledged within the story's universe, yet that's where his depth seems to end. Even when it comes to profound moments, such as mourning his mother, those experiences are often usurped by characters like Gabriel and Nathalie. His discontent with the new dynamics introduced by Ladybug is addressed with mere lip service, and the problem conveniently dissipates with minimal exploration. What's particularly disheartening is the disproportionate focus on Marinette's distress in Chat Blanc, while Adrien's perspective is seemingly sidelined. The chilling realization of witnessing another version of oneself succumb to a dire fate. It's baffling and, frankly, another distressing thing is that Felix, of all people, stumbles upon Amelie Agreste's body, while Adrien is kept in the dark about the whole situation. He seems unable to catch a break; someone else steps into his central role, yet he remains excluded from active participation in his story.

Alya, who has been part of the team for a shorter duration, receives more favorable treatment than the guy constantly confronting akumas since the start. It seems as if the protagonist believes he exists solely for that purpose, devoid of any personal life. The question arises: how can she be considered a "good" team leader when she consistently withholds important information from him? It's not just about preserving her secret identity; he has his own life and concerns that deserve acknowledgment.

While this could have been an opportunity for character development, it appears that in Season 4, Marinette's treatment is portrayed not as a flaw for her to address and improve upon, but rather as an acceptable stance. The show now seems entrenched in a protagonist-centered morality, where Marinette's actions are deemed right simply because she is the central character.

It appears that many in the fandom overlook the fact that Adrien has the choice to walk away from the situation rather than enduring constant disrespect and inconsideration. He not only bears the weight of being an abused child but also willingly sacrifices himself, all while grappling with the immense responsibilities of a job that befalls a mere kid. It's reasonable to feel apprehensive if your partner consistently withholds crucial information. In the realm of heroism, it's not a game; how can one be adequately equipped to be a proper hero if the other half is withholding information that could lead to dangerous consequences?

While we witness Marinette's struggles as a guardian, her point of view tends to dominate, creating a skewed perspective for the audience that might lead us to believe she has it the worst. Certainly, Marinette faces considerable challenges, and her difficulties are worthy of sympathy. However, the deliberate absence of Adrien's perspective leaves us unaware of his struggles. He seems to lack any substantial support, and beyond Plagg, there's uncertainty about who he can turn to. Despite being the one offering comfort most of the time, it raises the question of whether Marinette would reciprocate that support when Adrien is the one in need.

With Season 5 concluded and heroes now a permanent fixture, the possibility of them pursuing their own path becomes a valid consideration. Based on what I've observed, if Marinette struggles to handle just one Chat Noir, what about the rest of the team now that they're not just allies but officially permanent heroes? It appears her controlling nature might lead to a downward spiral in the face of this expanded responsibility.

When I mention the comparison between the fanbase and Astruc, I'm highlighting the consistent scrutiny Adrien undergoes. Astruc's portrayal of Adrien tends to revolve around catering to Marinette, and it seems the fanbase mirrors this perspective. Even in Season 5, everyone, both within the story's universe and among the viewers, appears to be an Adrienette shipper. It's as if the characters' sentiments reflect the sentiments of the fanbase itself.

Witnessing the frenzy and prolific fic-writing sparked by one episode where Adrien doles out sensible advice to Marinette, one can't help but wonder how intense the reaction would be if Adrien were to nonchalantly distance himself or engage in actions that don't align with her desires. It's as if there's an aversion to embracing Adrien's genuine flaws—apparently, the mandate is for him to exist solely to be with Marinette, with everything else relegated to secondary status. Any deviation from this ideal, it seems, is met with a virtual arsenal of pitchforks.

I could never embrace this ship from the jump; it's glaringly one-sided with nothing reciprocated from Marinette and Adrien seemingly giving away too much. The purported power of love in the theme song seems like a facade; there's a stark lack of equality in this relationship. My boy Adrien appears to be a puppet with strings, transitioning from his father's domination to now being handed over to Marinette as if he's a prize worthy of her affections. He'd chip part of away of himself for her and she'd smile and I dislike it immensely for how they portray it as true romance. I dislike her actions and her mistreatment that a fact.

I find myself straddling the line between indifference and frustration due to her actions and mistreatment of her partner. Indifferent because she fails to evoke any substantial emotional response or genuine concern from me compared to Adrien.Even if she were to shed tears, it wouldn't stir any emotion in me. I believe she has the potential to be an interesting character, but that possibility relies on the writers recognizing her mistakes and steering her character in a progressive direction. She seems more like a prop fed lines making my discontent directed more towards the writers for crafting her in such a way rather than at the character herself.

#adrien agreste #mlb marinette #miraculous ladybug

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lovecolibri · 1 year

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I hated 5a but it was saved by ep 6 and 8, then we got 5b and it was really good, then kr got scared of buddie and decided that for all 6a they shouldnt have scenes together anymore. I appreciate the effort of blog talking about the narrative but even without the romantically shipping them we went from 2 best friends to 2 people that just work together

I'm gonna be honest and say I didn't care for 5b for the most part either because the cheating, tay kay nonsense, and L of it all forcing Eddie and Madney/Chim's stuff into the background ruined a lot of it for me. 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️ (RIP to everyone who decided to follow me recently for Buddie stuff and missed the "salt gremlin" in my "about" section but this is a hate space for characters I Do Not Enjoy and that includes tay kay and L. Feel free to unfollow, or block the anti tags accordingly. I don't fuck with things that are a waste of time and take time, arcs, and storylines away from main characters, characters I actually want to see, and things that actually push the main character's stories along.)

When even the GA and people who very much state they do NOT ship Buddie are baffled at the choice to sideline their relationship entirely and are asking what the show is doing you know it's an issue. However, I will disagree and say that KR didn't get "scared" of Buddie suddenly after season 5, because she's never particularly liked or cared about Eddie as a character to begin with. We all saw 4x14 and how she sidelined the firefam from Eddie's shooting (they weren't even allowed at his welcome home party! You're telling me tay kay was in Eddie's Covid bubble and cleared to be unmasked around his kid but the firefam weren't?! Please), and sidelined Eddie himself from the whole thing, skipping his (and Bobby's) whole recovery and making the whole thing about Buck and forcing BT. In fact, had Tim not insisted on the scene of Buck telling Chris about Eddie being hurt, and The Will scene, we would have gotten barely any Chris OR Eddie even having LINES much less scenes in the whole episode! Girl has NEVER cared for Eddie or for Buddie and it shows. 6a was just her finding another excuse to not have them interact and because nothing was happening AT work, or in anyone's live OUTSIDE of work, there was no reason for them to have scenes. Like, 90% of 6a could have been an email and the big things that did happen with Henren and Athena haven't come up again or affected anything much outside of that one episode. Athena more so than Henren since I *think* Karen almost dying will come back up in the whole "bio-father" storyline, but Athena has had not a single mention of what happened in her big episode, or a talk with her BFF Hen about how it changed her perspective on things, or gave her closure, or anything.

It's just bad arc planning and episode pacing, and it's not exclusive to Buddie. Let's talk about Madney not even getting to go to couples therapy or talk about breaking up, or talk about getting back together, or have any kind of deep, hard-but-ultimately-healing conversation before moving back in together and buying a house. Boston was SUCH a good episode and everything after that has been off screen or a blink and you'll miss it moment. Regardless of any on set/film time limits for JLH, we could still have more Chim focus and make the time they DO have for JLH count for something.

#my sweet nonnie friends #911 #911 spoilers #buddie #madney #anti taylor kelly #anti lucy donato #clearing out my inbox #today in 'asks i got excited about at work but wasn't able to answer right then and then ran out of spoons to do when i got home'#this might be the last one today though because i have other plans #and i've probably been salty enough for one day

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bravecows · 2 years

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extraordinary attorney woo eps 15-16

I definitely felt the show went off the rails a bit in the second half -- the episodes in Jeju felt totally unnecessary -- but the finale was so satisfying. I felt they wrapped up key plotlines in a really rewarding way, but the storylines weren't developed as well as they should have been, which meant that in order to enjoy the ending fully you had to sort of pretend there had been more development of certain arcs or relationships than there was.

Much as I love Jung Myeong-seok, I do think the whole story of him being ill and his ex-wife blah blah blah used up time they could've deployed better focusing on Young-woo. That said, I loved his scene with Young-woo in ep 16, where he tells her she's no ordinary attorney and he's interested to see what she decides. That's one relationship they have developed really well and effectively -- you believe in her faith in him, and how well he understands her, because you've seen how their working relationship has developed in the course of the series. Receiving that kind of professional validation from a senior lawyer you respect is one of the best feelings in the WORLD, I loved watching it happen for Young-woo.

Other favourite scenes: Young-woo meeting her brother and all the little parallels between them (!!), the confrontation with Tae Su-mi (!!! incredible, incredibly moving), the blissful bit at the end where she tells her dad her contract's been renewed. I have missed her dad's frowny baffled face!

Oh, and I know Kwon Min-woo's redemption has not really been earned -- this is one of the things that they should have spent more time on in the second half of the series -- but nevertheless I unashamedly loved him telling Tae Su-mi he is going to be a fool from now on. Props to the actor: it needed someone exactly as charming as he is to sell this insufficiently developed transformation. I have always thought and still think that he looks like a sulky good-looking 12-year-old schoolboy, but that vibe totally works for the character.

There's just something about the way Choi Su-yeon demands that Min-woo be a better person and hold himself to higher standards than those set by self-interest, and how Young-woo does the same to her mother. The fearless idealism of it! I love it.

I also enjoyed Young-woo's reconciliation with Jun-ho, especially the part where she tells him cats love their owners, but even MORE I loved the part where she went through the revolving doors on her own. Our baby girl!!!

One thing I was hoping for was that we'd see more and different sorts of autistic characters -- I was particularly hoping for express confirmation that Tae Su-mi herself is autistic. The parallels between Young-woo and her brother seemed to strongly hint at something like that, though, so I guess it's not out of the question they might explore it in future, since the series is continuing.

I don't know if season 2 will be any good; the faltering in eps 13-14 made me dubious, and I'm also worried the writer's possibly said what she wanted to say about Young-woo. But I'll most likely check it out, when before ep 16 I was really not sure I would.

One question remains, though. How does Hairy Boss's establishment survive if Young-woo is his only customer????? Is it a money laundering front or something? Is the restaurant located in a pocket dimension where restaurants don't need to be profitable in order to survive? This needs to be addressed in season 2.

#extraordinary attorney woo

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junkshop-disco · 2 years

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what are your thoughts on the thomas story in the new film???

Putting this under a read more for anyone who's resisting spoilers.

I'm... baffled? With a side of not thrilled?

I'm struggling to understand it from a film making POV tbh, because JF was persuaded the wife idea was a bad one for the original film at some point in pre-production, so what's changed? A bad idea people hate doesn't stop being a bad idea people hate just because time has passed. But I also had a sneaking suspicion he would do something like this, because JF doesn't strike me as the kind of person who takes notes well and doing it off-page between films as a way of disposing of a storyline he's gotten bored of so he can add some unearned, unsupported, and unnecessary angst and hash out a new idea is pretty much his entire wheelhouse. So my question is who were the people who objected to the wife storyline in the first place, what happened to them (did they change their minds or were they over ruled?), and did JF already have this idea for Thomas for a second film when he was writing the first one, which is why he needed to dispense with Richard in the first place, he just shifted that part into the gap between films and knew he was creating a faux happy ending. It's just. I don't get it. If people working on the film script hate an idea, don't run with it anyway is usually a pretty good maxim.

I'm also a bit ??? about how this storyline for Thomas is basically the same one as he had in the very first episode. He wants to go away with the Duke he's in love with and be his valet and that's not radically different from being dresser to a Hollywood star he's just met and formed a romantic attachment to. Is this intentional? Is it supposed to bookend Thomas's story arc? Because granted it does that, it just throws six entire seasons and a film's worth of character growth and development under a bus to do it. And the entire point of a bookend device is usually so a character who didn't make the Leap of Faith necessary for fulfilment the first time round can do it when the new opportunity presents because of the journey they've been on throughout the narrative. But that doesn't work for Thomas, because he DID make the leap of faith in the first episode. He just got rejected (I would argue actually that the whole POINT of Thomas is that he makes repeated leaps of faith and gets rejected. Like. Is that not his defining thing?). So giving him a do-over presents him with no opportunity for fulfilment from a character perspective and I'm not sure how that's supposed to result in narrative satisfaction.

I'm interested particularly in what RJC thinks about it (obviously he's not going to diss the storyline on the red carpet and I'm sure he'll make the best of whatever he's been given) and if he'll be back for more or not if further films get green lit. They're already tying themselves into pretzel shapes trying to bring one former butler back into the films. Doing it for two (if Mary accepts Thomas's resignation) seems... a stretch. The ensemble definitely loses something without Thomas imo, but I can also see RJC wanting to move on to other things.

tbh my hope is that Rob made the decision not to return and this is in part to facilitate that, rather than it being what it looks like: retconing the first film to dump Thomas back where he was at the very start of the show and rendering his entire character arc sort of pointless.

#downton abbey #downton abbey movie spoilers #downton abbey a new era #downton abbey a new era spoilers

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winterrose527 · 1 year

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top 5 fics you’ve written that challenged you the most?

Oooh what a good question! I'm so sorry for my insanely long answer...

These are in no order, just sort of as I'm seeing them in my AO3 page

In Their Nature (Joncella, canon divergent, AU where the Targs won) - I love love love this version of them, it's been really fun to imagine how their different circumstances would change parts of their personality etc. but where I find writing the bits between them incredibly easy, the larger political landscape is a bit out of my depth.

To Brave the Seasons (Robbcella, canon divergent, AU where Myrcella becomes Robb's hostage) - Similar reason to above, plus the fact that for this one I'm very tempted to have a not happy ending, which is something I've never done and imagining the reception of that makes it difficult to get motivation to write it.

Dancing on the Strings (Robbcella + Jonsa & Gendrya, modern AU) - This one haunts me to this day, to the extent that I'd love to delete it but have yet to do so. It was a struggle both pacing-wise & structurally, and really showed me just how much I prefer writing Robbcella to other couples. What started as a sort of ensemble fic, very quickly devolved into a Myrcella/Robbcella centric one, and due to how much I enjoyed writing the personal bits and those unfolding dynamics, I lost sight of the larger story so that by the time the major 'plot' points came in it felt very convoluted and unnecessary. I should have just let it go, let the fic be what it was and taken that plot point into a new one, but we live and learn!

The Arrangement (Jonsa, modern AU) - This is one where the story itself was really straight forward, but where I really had to struggle my way through it. It showed me how much I do not enjoy writing Jonsa (the disconnect between how feral they make me as a canon couple vs my desire to write a modern AU or often even read a modern AU is actually baffling, I think the only thing I can say is that I am genuinely so tied to who these characters ARE that writing lesser versions of them without the circumstances that make their dynamic so interesting and delicious to me is unappealing. I love them too much). It is so interesting to me that it is my most popular (I think by a pretty wide margin) because I can't express how much I phoned this one in. To me, there's absolutely no life in the writing, except maybe when Robbcella comes to visit - funny, that.

Nothing's Shining, Shining Like it Should (Robbcella, modern AU) - It is hilarious to me that total this fic is less than 15,000 words, because it challenged me more than ones that are like ten times that. Angst etc. really challenges me though particularly in fanfic and particularly in Robbcella, so this one was definitely a challenge.

This list also ignores the many fics I found so challenging that I deleted, but here we are!

#fanfiction #asks #long post #caity caity ..... caity

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chaoticdean · 3 years

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Supernatural and the topic of found family — family don’t end in blood… or does it?

I know I’ve talked a great deal about the way the complete erasure of both Cas and Eileen from the two final episodes of SPN made my blood boil, but after careful consideration and a lot of talking with several very clever people (you know who you are), I think what hurt me the most on top of it all is the way Supernatural decided to essentially throw away an entire section of what made the show what it was for the best part of the last decade and a half: the topic of found family, and how they’ve carefully crafted so many important side characters and relationships only to throw them all away for the sake of having one last episode essentially disconnected from the rest of the story.

[Because I’ve talked about in great length over the course of the past week and a half, and although there are undoubtedly more issues with Supernatural’s series finale than just this (ie: the Destiel treatment and the queer erasure, along with the complete erasure of Eileen, the only disabled character this show has ever known), I’m going to concentrate solely on the treatment of found family, and why its erasure from the finale storyline is deeply upsetting on top of being utterly inexplicable. If you want to read an incredible article about this, I’d redirect you to @chill-legilimens article’s, The Trauma of Silence]

When Supernatural started airing in 2005, the show essentially focused on Sam and Dean and their relationship, with a dash of John Winchester and mending the broken pieces between a father and his sons into the mix. The first side character that gets introduced to the audience as some sort of surrogate father to both Winchesters is Bobby (1x22, Devil’s Trap), and he quickly became a fan favorite to the fandom. Interestingly enough, Bobby is also the one who comes up with the “Family don’t end with blood” line (if I’m not mistaken, the first time it’s said on the show is during 3x16, No Rest for the Wicked). Once this line gets said, it quickly became more than just a slogan within the fandom, and it’s often referenced as a motto for the show as well (Dean even uses it during his talk with Crowley in season 10 to explain what family means).

Over the years, so many characters got introduced and became fan favorites (off the top of my head, I can come up with half a dozen already) and have grown within the show, to the point where they’re introduced to the audience as some sort of found family to both Dean and Sam. The boys get invited to Jody Mills’ and her wayward daughter’s house for dinner, spend what can only be qualified as a slumber party watching Game of Thrones with Charlie Bradbury in the bunker, keep running around and bickering with Crowley, spends time in the bunker with Eileen (the margaritas and Sam and Eileen being hungover the morning after in the bunker’s kitchen lives rent-free in my head). Even the Ghostfacers keep popping in almost every season for a decade. The audience gets to learn who these characters are and connect with them on several levels, most of them also becoming fan favorites over time.

But if I had to pick only one side character to make a point, Castiel is undoubtedly the one that comes to mind first.

When Misha Collins came along during season 4, he was only supposed to be in for a couple of episodes and be done with it. But because of his masterful performance (and because the character of Anna, who gets introduced around the same time as Castiel, doesn’t seem to work as well as the writers thought it would), Misha stayed along for the whole ride, and ended his run on Supernatural 12 years and 144 episodes later, with a character that is so beloved by the fandom that it elevated him to the rank of third lead. Castiel is not only an angel of the Lord, he’s also Sam and Dean’s best friend who would do anything to protect them (and, well, has done so, multiple times). He’s grown within the show to the point where the audience directly refers to him as being one of the family, even though he’s not blood, because “Family don’t end with blood” after all.

Another example that is particularly telling over the course of the last couple of seasons is the treatment of Jack’s character, who’s quickly adopted by the boys and referred to as “their kid”, the three of them acting like surrogate dads even though in the end, Jack is Lucifer’s son. Once again, the show makes a point of showing the audience that although Jack is not related to Sam and Dean in any way (I’m guessing since Lucifer is basically Castiel’s brother, he is somewhat related to Cas, but since I don’t have a degree in angel DNA, I can’t 100% be sure), he’s still family, he still matters.

The story basically tells the audience that even though you might not have a blood-related family, that doesn’t prevent you to find people along your life’s journey that becomes intrinsically connected to your story, both on a deeply emotional and practical level. It tells you that you’re not required to have a blood family to be someone’s kid, or sister, or brother. It tells you that blood doesn’t define who you choose to share your life with, and most importantly, it tells you that you’re allowed to choose.

So why on Earth did anyone think that ending Supernatural’s 15-year run with an episode that essentially showcases Sam and Dean and sidelines the wide majority of the family they found along the way (with the exception of OG Bobby showing up in Heaven) was a good idea?

Don’t get me wrong, I love Bobby, I really do… But what was the excuse for not having either Misha back (the literal third lead of the show, who confessed to being in love with Dean, the second lead of the show, two episodes prior), or Alex (Jack being one of the main focus of the past two seasons at least)? I get that Covid made all of this difficult, but you can’t tell me you’ve been able to bring back Mark Pellegrino’s Lucifer for a two minutes and a half cameo in 15x19, but not Misha fucking Collins to end his character’s arc (and Dean’s, who’s arc is deeply wired with Castiel’s) after 12 years.

I’m gonna say it again, because I feel like it’s been used as an excuse for everything ever since the finale aired: Covid cannot be the sole excuse for everything. It cannot account for the absence of literally EVERYONE around the Winchesters.

At that point, I should probably add that although I was incredible baffled by the one-off mention of Cas (well, two, if you count Sam saying he misses him and Dean deflecting during the Pie Fest at the beginning of the episode), what probably set me off the most is the part of Dean’s death speech where he says “when it all came down to it, it was always you and me, it’s always been you and me”.

I’m sorry Dean, you know I love you to pieces, but what the actual fuck was that? What does it even mean? That single line essentially strips away any kind of meaningful contribution of any side characters… Including Castiel “always happy to bleed for the Winchesters”’s, and Jack’s who quite literally saved the whole world ONE EPISODE PRIOR.

Not to mention that the fact we don’t get to see Cas again leave Dean’s entire character’s arc incomplete. What was the point of season 15, which focused so deeply on Dean and Cas’ relationship, if in the end the entire character’s arc gets dropped?

So what’s the message being sent here?

“Found family was a myth, it’s always been sorely about the Winchesters”?

“Ha! Tricked ya!”?

Why did Supernatural, after a decade and a half spent consolidating the contribution of side characters, decided to essentially throw it all away?

Why did Supernatural, after a decade spent crafting meaningful relationships within the show, decided to light it all up on fire and end its run with an episode that basically tells the audience that none of it really mattered, it’s always been sorely about Dean and Sam.

I would’ve been fine with a Sam and Dean episode if Castiel had more than a one-off mention, if they didn’t give Sam a blurry wife, if Dean had the funeral he deserved (with a rock band, whisky, and all the fellow hunters and family he found along the way), if Sam didn’t spend the rest of his life mourning his brother. I would’ve been fine with only getting Jim Beaver on screen (because Covid) if we had been given something more than just Dean driving for his last 5 minutes on screen. It would have been FINE, if Supernatural hadn’t essentially forgotten about what made Supernatural, well, Supernatural.

Long story short, I feel tricked. And I know a lot of you feel tricked too, because this isn’t what we’ve been fed for the past 15 years. Supernatural was a show about finding your way through life and death and horror and trauma, with help from people you found along the way who became linked to your story because you cared for each other. And Supernatural ended by telling us that found family didn’t really matter, that Dean was always going to die on a random hunt, that Sam could never be truly happy without his brother by his side. Talk about a downgrade, uh?

I don’t know why they decided to throw their entire legacy to the wind. Truth be told, I don’t think we’ll ever get to know. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to stay pissed about it. That doesn’t mean I’m going to ever be okay with my favorite show deciding to end its run with a finale episode so deeply disconnected from their 15-year story that it felt utterly shallow.

They said “Family don’t end with blood”… But after all of this, doesn’t it, though?

#idk what this is i had a lot of feelings #spn meta #sorta #found family #spn #spn 15x20 #jus.meta

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thehollowprince · 2 years

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"Pretty girl, pretty boy, and boom, instant couple." fandom and shipping culture has just completely warped our brains hasn't it? As if it isn't still important to see interracial couples in media, the fact that they are (presumably) heterosexual doesn't make it any less groundbreaking. Same with Scott and Kira, because how often does a popular show feature an interracial couple where neither party is white?

Oh, you are preaching to the choir!

Fandom has gotten to the point where it's so far removed from its source material that they might as well be two entirely separate entities.

For example, I saw a post recently that really hit the nail on the head.

Squid Game.

I can't tell you how many memes I saw making light of the show's incredibly heavy and dark subject matter. Or the fanarts that sexualized the guys in the red jumpsuits and geometric masks. Hell, I even saw celebrities that were having Squid Game themed parties, where they dressed up in costumes from the show. Fandom looked at this show about the exploitation of the poor by the wealthy for their entertainment, and said "it's all about the aesthetics".

It gets worse when you add shipping into the mix.

I have said it before and I'll say it again: shipping is the death of fandom.

Too many people are concerned with making their coffee shop AUs or their Soulmate AUs (or whatever) and not the actual text they're supposed to be basing everything on.

Don't get me wrong, I appreciate a good AU as much as the next person, but I base my opinions on characters and ships on what actually happened "on screen".

What is truly baffling about the whole thing, particularly in fandoms like Teen Wolf, is how shipping not only completely dominates the fandom, but attempts to rewrite canon as well.

When I started to get involved in the fandom, season three was airing. I had only just finished season one, and so you can imagine my confusion when I saw that Sterek was such a big part of that fandom. At first I thought that maybe something had happened in the second season that I hadn't gotten to yet, but once I watched it, I was even more confused. There is literally nothing behind that ship except two pretty faces. Their entire relationship throughout the actual show was either sarcastic barbs or being outright antagonistic to each other. To make matters worse, they then rewrite the entire show to make the ship seem plausible to them and others, so that everything that created these characters and the story itself is now meaningless, because they've moved completely into an AU.

But then, when you criticize said ship, you get either harassed by A, or accused of being a homophobe. With the latter, I got a lot of messages back in the day, because I was more interested in Danny... y'know, the actual gay character on the show. But no, fandom chose to focus on a crack ship composed of two characters that had never been described as anything other than heterosexual.

But like you said, interracial relationships are important, and yet sadly incredibly rare, especially those where both parties aren't white. Sadly, that brings us back to the racism that permeates fandom. It's neither surprising nor unexpected, though maybe a little startling in its ferocity, but no, never a surprise. After all, racism is built into every aspect of our society, from our infrastructure to our politics to our educational system. Of course it'll be in our entertainment as well.

Racism and heteronormativity are the cornerstones that our society is built on. And you may be asking yourself, what does the latter have to do with a slash ship. Well, after looking at it for years, I can tell you that Sterek is a slash ship written for (and by) straight people. It's one of a number.

#shipping culture is the death of fandom #fandom racism #fandom sexism #fandom homophobia #fandom fuckery #anti sterek

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the-ferocious-kittyrose · 3 years

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Rewriting Haggar/Honerva’s redemption arc

One of the many things that bothered me about VLD S8 is Honerva’s redemption arc. While I was never fully against the idea of Honerva getting a redemption arc, I just didn’t want VLD to do it because I knew that they would fuck it up if they tried. And low and behold, I was right!

But yeah, I wasn’t against the idea of her being redeemed. And I don’t mean “redeemed” as in “all is forgiven and she’s just a good guy now,” but more like a Darth Vader, “the things she did were inexcusable and she would never be able to right all her wrongs but she goes out on one good act to show that there was still good in her deep down and she at least had the potential to change.”

I know a lot of people don’t like the whole, “redemption=death” thing, which I understand, but I personally never had a problem with it.

Ok, so why didn’t Honerva’s redemption work? Well there are a few reasons but the one that baffles me the most is that, instead of trying to make her more sympathetic, season 8 seemed to go out of its way to show her being more evil and vile than ever.

And because I have nothing better to do, I’m gonna go through Honerva’s story in VLD and explain what I would change to make her redemption more believable.

(Keep in mind I am not a writer, this is just me ranting about my favorite character and how I personally would’ve written her.)

1. Realizing she’s Altean

I always thought it’s was weird that when Allura said “you’re...Altean!?” In the S2 finale, Haggar didn’t seem to react at all, she just kept attacking. It’s as if she didn’t care or already knew, which doesn’t make sense considering in the S3 finale and S8E2 it’s established that Haggar has no memory of who she was before she died. And in S4E3 she seems shocked by her Altean face (which also doesn’t make sense because her blue skin isn’t camouflage that’s just how she looks after the rift) so it seems like she didn’t know.

Wouldn’t it have made more sence if after Allura said “you’re...Altean!?” Honerva looked confused/shocked? If she became defensive and said Allura was lying/trying to insult her? There’s def anti-Altean propaganda in the empire so it would be considered an insult.

After that she starts questioning Zarkon. And when she looks into his mind, it’s out of genuine curiosity and desire to know the truth, not because, “the empire needs him” or whatever that meant.

And isn’t it a bit odd that she doesn’t seem betrayed at all when she finds out Zarkon has been keeping all this from her? She’s just like, “oh, you’re my husband? Cool.” Wtf???

2. Her past relationship with Zarkon

Okay, I love Zonerva, but if we’re being honest, Zarkon was not the best husband. He enabled the shit out of Honerva, even when it was obvious that the rift was doing serious damage to her physical and mental health. To me, it seems like Zarkon was so blinded by the power the rift gave him that he didn’t realize/ignored the negative effect it was having on Honerva. In the same way he downplayed the negative impact the rift had on the planet.

I think that should’ve been explored more. Maybe Honerva notices that she’s been acting differently and is worried somethings wrong (think S5 Kuron). And Honerva tries to tell Zarkon that she feels strange and Zarkon just brushes it off.

And later, when Alfor visits Diaibazaal years later. Things are pretty much the same except when we sees Honerva, she is very obviously pregnant and Alfor’s there when Honerva falls and goes into labor (instead of a random quintessence seizure). Alfor and many Galran doctors try their best to save her and the baby but she dies in childbirth.

Zarkon goes ballistic. He’s yelling, throwing doctors across the room, and Alfor turns to the doctor holding Lotor and tells them to get the baby to safely, fearing Zarkon will take his grief out on the baby.

Zarkon turns on Alfor, blaming him for Honerva’s death and accusing him of letting her die so that he could get his way and close the rift. He lunges Alfor and roars at him to leave.

He spends the rest of the night grieving at Honerva’s bedside, when Kova jumps on the bed and starts gnawing on her finger trying to wake her up. This is what gives him the idea to bring her back with quintessence.

3. Her current relationship with Zarkon

I think it’s pretty safe to say that they’re relationship didn’t get better after the war began. Zarkon hid her identity and her child from her for 10,000 years and essentially used her as a tool of war. It’s pretty fucked up.

I know it’s pretty well established that Zarkon treats Haggar with more respect than his other underlings, but I feel like it would be interesting to see that change overtime. We see that after Voltron comes back, Zarkon becomes very obsessed with Voltron/Black, and he and Haggar start disagreeing more and more.

Remember the moment where one of Haggar’s druids told Zarkon Haggar said he needed to rest and Zarkon hit them with his bayard and told them, “remember who your master is”? What if, instead of a random druid, it was Haggar who he hit?

I feel like that would be a good way to show Haggar and the audience just how much Zarkon’s obsession with Voltron is affecting him, and make the audience feel a tiny bit bad for her.

Then later in season 4, when Zarkon wakes up from his coma and finds out Haggar brought Lotor back to take his place he gets pissed. He puts a price on Lotor’s head and has Haggar arrested for treason. She steals a ship, escapes, and later on meets up with Lotor’s generals.

Her and Zarkon are officially broken up and her quest to reclaim her identity and get her son back begins.

4. Oriande

I never liked the concept of chosen/sacred Alteans. The idea that some Alteans are just born more powerful than others just feels iffy. My idea of Oriande is that it’s an Altean holly land, any Altean can enter it just depends on whether or not you can pass the White Lion’s trial. Passing the trial proves that your intentions are pure and and the White Lion will bless you with power.

I didn’t like how Honerva seemed to force her way into Oriande, I think it would be more effective if she had gone through normally because, at this point, her intentions were pure. She was going there to purge herself of the dark magic corrupting her and reclaim her memories so she could go get her son back.

I also like the idea that Oriande is a sorta link to the Altean after life, and you can speak with people you’ve lost. Allura gets to speak with Alfor, and Honerva speaks with her mother.

You could also have her be confronted by the spirits of the Alteans she helped destroy. Have the weight of her past actions bear down on her. An important part of any redemption arc is acknowledging the terrible shit you’ve done in the past, and that was severely lacking in Honerva’s arc.

Another interesting thing you could do is have Honerva talk to her younger self. The one that died 10,000 years ago. This kinda thing actually happened in 80s Voltron, young Haggar appearing in Haggar’s head trying to convince her to be good again.

5. Her relationship with Lotor

Now this is where the redemption arc really falls apart. I forget who, but one of the writers said after S5 that Haggar/Honerva was motivated purely by love for her son, but man did they do a bad job of showing that.

And it would’ve been so easy to fix that problem, just have her not be horrible to him. Have them have actual civil conversations, have her protect and defend him. Don’t have her reject him as a fucking baby!

Imagine if, after Zarkon destroys Lotor’s planet, instead of immediately deciding to

exile him, Zarkon says that this is the final straw and he’s going to have Lotor executed. But Haggar speaks up to defend Him. There’s actually a scene in DOTU where Zarkon tries to kill Lotor and Haggar gets on her knees and begs for him to be spared. (Though the scene was mostly played for laughs.)

she asks for mercy and justifies it by saying it would be unwise to kill his only heir. It’s a weak argument, Lotor’s a half breed and couldn’t realistically take the throne, but Zarkon does concede, he still loves her after all, and has Lotor exiled.

And Haggar isn’t spying on him because she doesn’t trust him, but because she’s concerned for him. When Lotor confronts Haggar about sending her cronies after him, she says she knows he’s hiding something. Lotor asks if she’s threatening him, thinking she’s going to rat him out, but she says no, she’s not threatening him, she’s just trying to warn him against doing anything stupid because, with Zarkon seemingly on his death bed, the empire needs Lotor’s leadership.

At this point in the story, Haggar is questioning her loyalty to Zarkon, so I feel like it would make sense for her to be silently supporting Lotor from the shadows.

Then at the Kral Zera in season 5, It was weird to me how she was helping Lotor through Kuron while also telling him he couldn’t be emperor and trying to put Sendak on the throne. I feel like it would’ve made more sense for Sendak to just show up on his own without Haggar.

Haggar wouldn’t even be at the Kral Zera, she would just watch through Kuron.

And then we get to S6 when she actually reveals to Lotor that she’s his mom. This scene was just so poorly done. She never actually apologizes to him, she’s just like “yeah I forgot you were my kid and I never loved you, but were cool now right?” I remember when I saw S8E2 and it shows her after Lotor rejects her and she looks like she’s about to cry, I was just thinking, “this would be very emotional and sad IF she had actually apologized and made it clear that she genuinely loved him.” But she didn’t and I don’t know why!

And then we get to season 8, and of course everything in S8 is bad but Honerva’s story is particularly bad. She’s supposed to be motivated by love for Lotor yet she doesn’t act like she actually cares about him at all.

She manipulates his corpse and when she sees his gross melted body, she doesn’t even react that much. When a mother sees her child’s mutilated corpse, how do you think she reacts? Screaming? Crying?? Hurling??? But no. She’s just like, “...”

And then when she goes to the alternate reality and meets baby Lotor and he rejects her, her reaction isn’t disappointment or sadness, it’s anger and entitlement. She immediately decides, “ok, fuck this kid. Let’s destroy this reality.”

It just doesn’t make sense! This is the season you’re trying to REDEEM her! Why are you going out of your way to make her so vile?

6. Her S7-S8 plan

(Keep in mind I haven’t watched S7/S8 since they came out and barely even watched S8 to begin with, so I don’t remember some things and I can’t be bothered to rewatch them.)

Okay, starting with S7, she’s not in this season at all but in “The Ruins” the druid dude says that her final order was to hunt and destroy the Blade of Marmora. I guess it makes a certain amount of sense because she saw that it was Keith who brought Lotor’s actions to light, but that whole plot was really pointless in my opinion. (Was anybody really hoping for a rematch between Keith and that one random druid?)

If you want us to forgive Honerva for her crimes, you really shouldn’t keep adding more unnecessary crimes. It’s established that there were a lot of Galra war lords vying for power and pirates looking for money, just have it be that Kolivan got kidnapped by one of them.

Then you have her season 8 plan and I’m gonna be real with y’all, I have no idea how to fix this mess.

I feel like the basics of her plan could work. She tries to get Lotor and Sincline out of the rift but when she gets him he’s a melted corpse so the plan then becomes to use sincline to go to another reality to find a living Lotor, but opening all these rifts causes problems and the paladins have to stop her.

But all the shit with manipulating the colony Alteans, killing the White Lion, desecrating Oriande, and destroying Olkarion and entire realities, it was all so unnecessary.

Personally I would cut the colony Alteans from the story all together, there are other ways for Lotor to betray the team. It was a lazy way of making Lotor 100% evil and having Honerva manipulate them is unnecessarily cruel, especially in the season you’re trying to redeem her.

Here’s a very basic outline of how I would do this plot.

If we’re going by season 8’s logic that she needs a sacrifice to bring back Sincline, I would’ve had the Galra she killed at the Kral Zera be the sacrifice, not the White Lion. She stands on the pyramid and talks about how the empire stole her life from her and she wants revenge as she absorbs their quintessence into herself and then uses that to bring back Sincline.

Then when she finds Lotor dead she takes Sincline and uses it to go to another reality where she can be with her family.

The danger comes when she opens rifts to the other realities and rift creatures start coming out and causing damage. The paladins fight them and follow her into the rift to stop whatever evil plan she may have. Because the paladins don’t know that Haggar is now Honerva and all this is just to get Lotor back. They think this is all some plan for multiverse domination or some shit.

Meanwhile Honerva has just been rejected by little Lotor and seeing Voltron show up pushes her over the edge and they fight.

But when they find out the real reason she’s doing all this they start trying to appeal to her and convince her to give up and close the rift peacefully. And similarly to how the paladins had to sacrifice the castle to close the rifts created by the fight with Lotor, Honerva has to sacrifice herself to close the rifts.

In the end, I feel like a Honerva redemption arc could’ve worked if the writers were actually competent and actually made an effort to have her be sympathetic, but In canon, her reasoning, “If I can’t indulge in the simple joys of life, why should anybody else?” just doesn’t cut it.

It’s disappointing. VLD had so much potential. I’m thinking of just rewriting the entire series from the beginning. Hopefully putting all my thoughts out into the universe will help me move on.

#voltron #voltron legendary discourse #haggar #honerva #Lotor #prince lotor #Allura #princess allura #vld #vld critical #Altean #voltron season 8 #zarkon #emperor Zarkon #zonerva #Galra #redemption arc

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underworldreaderinserts · 3 years

Note

Could you write some Zagreus bf headcanons where the reader is a mortal? Not sure if you write headcanons or not but I wanna shoot my shot anyway qwqqq i just love zag so muchh aaaaa a a aa,,,,,

Of course, I can, sweetie! I know I did general boyfriend headcanons here, but I’ll specify for a mortal partner♡ I originally wrote two versions of this, one for a mortal partner already in the House of Hades, and one for a mortal still alive on the surface; but because it got absurdly long, I’ve only posted one. I hope it’s to your liking, dear anon!♡ -- Ryan

Edit: I seem to,,, get so carried away with my own imagination that I completely side tracked from the original request. If this isn’t exactly what you wanted for your request, anon, please stop by and let me know, I’ll do my best to make you a new one!!♡

In the House of Hades:

✧ In your mortal days, you’d lived as pious a life as any other human, though you did differ in one regard -- You paid tribute to the Chthonic gods as much as, if not more so than, the Olympians.

✧ It was in your belief that the God of the Dead, as fearsome as he was, deserved as much reverence as his brothers atop their mountain, and for this, you were given recognition upon your passing.

✧ Instead of wandering the Underworld’s domain as you had expected, it seemed you’d serve a higher purpose continuing your tribute to Hades, as you once did in life.

✧ Your arrival at the House was unexpected by its residents, however, not unwelcome, as they knew of you through your life and your tributes to them.

✧ But it’s also where you’d meet your boyfriend, Hades’ son, Zagreus. And it came much of a shock to you, as you had not known he had a son.

✧ It also came much of a shock to him, because Hades didn’t allow just anyone into his House.

✧ It is here where your curiosity of each other would draw you together quite often.

✧ Zagreus would catch you where he could, between your work shifts or whenever he wasn’t pillaging his father’s domain, and ask you questions.

✧ “Why would you honor the God of the Dead? Why didn’t you fear him, like the other mortals?”

✧ “I believed death was just as much a part of life as anything else the Gods and Goddesses represented. I guess you can say, in a way he was fearsome, but I didn’t fear him.”

✧ That answer baffled him, and only elicited further curiosity. It was such a unique perspective, and even though it told so much about you as a person, he felt as though he didn’t know enough.

✧ Eventually, he’d become addicted to learning more about you, and your brief conversations.

✧ Lost in his pursuit of you, he’d caught feelings along the way-- and the same could easily be said of you. But openly admitting you’ve fallen for the Prince of the Underworld was so outlandish to you.

✧ Before long, it wasn’t secret knowledge that the both of you reciprocated feelings, and were a bit more open with your relationship.

✧ Following that, you’d both find yourselves in each other’s companies, late into the evening (night? morning?), either sitting in the lounge or along the river’s roaring coarse by the Administrative Chamber just trading questions, experiences, and admirations.

✧ You’d tell him stories of your life on the surface. Some particularly hard seasons, or any strokes of luck.

✧ How you’d maintained offerings to many of the Gods, both Chthonic and Olympian, and if any of your good tidings had been by their blessings.

✧ You told him of your family, and your friends, and what education you had been fortunate enough to receive.

✧ You felt, between telling him about your daily life to your life’s story, that it was rather bland in comparison to what he’d have to offer, but it fascinated him.

✧ All lives begin and end the same way, but each one has a different story to tell. Some with overlapping similarities, some with predictive behaviors-- but not you.

✧ You got along swimmingly with everyone in the House (though Hades and Megaera were still a bit rough around the edges, you knew not to take it too personally.)

✧ Though, you’d namely get on well with Achilles and Orpheus, as you’d heard tales of them throughout your life. It was equivalent to being starstruck.

✧ More often than not, you’d be found beside Orpheus or Achilles, mostly because it still felt improper for you to talk so familiarly among Gods and Goddesses (though, Hypnos made it fairly easy, as his behaviors felt... human.)

✧ On some days (nights?) he’d pull himself out of the Pool of Styx and find you beside Orpheus, smiling as you discussed his talent and influence; or beside Achilles, watching him with awe as you’d asked for another recount of his battles.

✧ On those days, especially, he’d deliberately saunter right up to you, directing your attention to him. You’d beam that precious, priceless smile at him, greeting him, but before you could go into that sprightly explanation, he’d come up with a half-assed reason to take you from your current activity.

✧ Oblivious each time, you would politely dismiss yourself, knowing that any time with Zagreus was scarce. Orpheus would nod, with a soft “’til next time.”, but Achilles was one more offense away from calling the Prince out on his jealous antics.

✧ Zagreus knew your worth, though, and wasn’t afraid or ashamed to admit it as many times as it took.

✧ “There’s absolutely nothing like you, not in all the Underworld, or even the surface. I can say that, I’ve seen the surface.”

✧ “Not even the sun can match the warmth I feel when you’re beside me.”

✧ He struggles between the desire to have you all to himself, and to show you off at every corner of the Universe.

✧ Poor Zagreus gets mildly jealous, since he feels he can’t offer you the same solidarity, having lived in the Underworld his whole life (and being a god and all that)

✧ He treasures your stories, and how your life on the surface has weathered you into the person that stands before him.

✧ He’s grateful you’ve made it into his life, even if that gratitude is indirectly directed to his father, and his father’s decision to bring you into the House.

#Zagreus x Reader #Zagreus Headcanons #SFW Zagreus #SFW Headcanons

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caffeinatedseri · 3 years

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Dead Apple Light Novel

Recently, I decided to buy LN 5, Dead Apple, purely because I’m a sucker for all of BSD’s light novels, so this post will revolve around what I took away from this novel.

Dead Apple is Canon

Since the story jumps around in the timeline a lot, I had originally thought that Dead Apple took place outside of canon (especially with Atsushi’s flashback).

However, a particular part of Asagiri’s afterword stuck out to me:

Now, allow me a moment to discuss some of the particulars of Dead Apple. Chronologically, the story takes place after the second season of the anime — in other words, after the war with the Guild, which puts Dead Apple somewhere between the ninth and tenth volumes of the manga.

The novel also ended up affecting the main story in numerous ways, and I’m sure this new experience will continue to influence my future work as well.

It’s not unusual for a light novel to insert itself into the main timeline (see 55 Minutes which takes place in the 10th volume), but it’s nice to have confirmation that the same applies to Dead Apple.

Of course, just because a work isn’t canon compliant (see BEAST), doesn’t mean that it has no potential for further analysis or it doesn’t bring any added complexity to the main plot. Regardless, this post serves as somewhat of a precursor to my other posts concerning Dead Apple since I have a tendency to talk about it a lot, and I’d like to establish a basis for a lot of my posts.

Differences between the Movie and Light Novel

In the afterword of the light novel, Hiro Iwahata (the author of this LN) said:

“Furthermore, I worked on this book under Asagiri’s supervision, meaning there are several lines in certain scenes that differ from the movie. It might even be fun comparing the two! Nothing would make me happier than the fans enjoying this novel alongside the movie.”

As per Iwahata’s request, I went into the light novel, looking for differences between it and the movie. However, the novel is surprisingly, almost identical to the movie (maybe not surprising considering it is a “movie novelization”).

Because the differences are so miniscule, I believe they hold an even greater significance, since Asagiri must have wanted to change these specific details for a certain reason.

Some of the differences I talk about might be unimportant, but I did my best to catch everything that was changed from the movie.

1. The movie doesn’t mention SKK as a part of the Dragon’s Head Conflict, but the novel says, “Some fought under the alias Twin Dark.”

This probably means that SKK became a pair either before the Dragon’s Head Conflict or during (although I’m pretty sure that the “organization” they destroyed over night was Shibusawa’s organization).

2. When Dazai says that he would’ve continued killing people in the mafia if it weren’t for Oda, Atsushi has little to no reaction in the movie; I would describe it as maybe a hesitant or concerned feeling.

In the novel, Atsushi has a more outward reaction.

““Huh...?!” Atsushi was baffled. He had no idea whether that was true. What did Dazai mean by that? (...) The melancholy Atsushi felt from Dazai had disappeared, and Dazai continued to speak in his usual lighthearted manner.”

Not only does he react verbally, but the novel also adds an inner monologue (mainly for Atsushi) that can’t be portrayed as well in movie format.

To me, this change highlights how Atsushi sees Dazai purely as a good person; he reacts in such a startled manner because he believes that Dazai is too good of a person to be in the mafia killing people (which we know Atsushi hates). This trend reoccurs throughout the story, of Atsushi turning a blind eye to Dazai’s “bad side.”

3. This one isn’t at all the movie’s fault, but the novel gives a lot more clues as to what the “dead apple” and the dagger in the apple motif represents.

The first time it appears is when Kunikida and Tanizaki meet the Special Division’s agent, but they find out that he’s already dead.

“It [the apple] was, without a doubt, a simple fruit... save for the fact that there was a knife sticking out of it as if to condemn the taste of sin. A blade had been driven into the symbol of original sin. A dreary, ominous aura, oozed from the ripe fruit like venom.

Throughout the novel, it seems to associate the “dead apple” motif with Fyodor pretty strongly, especially since this paragraph ties in Fyodor’s ideals nicely with the symbolism of the apple and dagger.

The apple represents sin, the very first sin — which you could interpret as sin at its purest — while the dagger represents the condemning of such sin. However, the apple can also potentially symbolize life, while the dagger stabbing into life can mean death.

Fyodor’s ideals revolve around “removing the sin” of ability users (represented by an apple in this case) but he does so through manipulation. The dagger is associated with stealth and deception, which is fitting with what Fyodor does to “remove the sin” of ability users.

However, he’s also taking the lives of ability users in this process, hence stabbing the apple, coincidentally committing another sin in his attempt to relinquish all sin.

4. In the “Snow White” Oda and Dazai flashback, everything is identical to the movie (word for word), but there is some additional narration.

“It was an alarming sight — Dazai sounded like he was in a trance. It was as if he was ignoring all this world had to offer while in pursuit of something else.”

I’ve talked about this particular scene before here, but the gist is that Dazai was discreetly talking about himself while referring to Snow White.

Dazai joined the mafia because he believed that the violence (or true human nature) would give him a reason to live, but we already know that this kind of thinking was flawed. Thus, this line most likely means that Dazai was ignoring all of the “good” qualities of the world while pursuing a reason to live, which inevitably wouldn’t work.

5. Right after the flashback, when Dazai takes the pill, the novel really sells the act of “Dazai walking towards his death and going to the evil side.”

Personally, this scene in the movie felt more open to interpretation after you’ve seen the ending. You could say that Dazai took the antidote and said “Being on the side that saves people is more beautiful,” because his plan is to continue living to save more people.

However, the novel throws away any possible double meaning with this paragraph:

“Dazai then reached for the pill with his bandaged hand, neatly picked it up, and slowly brought it to his lips — just like Snow White and the sweet, poisoned apple. The venomous red-and-pure-white-pill disappeared inside his mouth.”

After Dazai’s tangent on how Snow White could’ve committed suicide out of despair, the narration compares him directly to Snow White. With the added venomous pill stated outright, it only further cements the idea that Dazai’s actually committing suicide here.

I don’t particularly like this change, because it feels like this moment was set up entirely just to divert the audience’s expectations, rather than it be a standalone scene that makes sense when considering the rest of the story. (It might not necessarily be a change, possibly just a rough translation from movie to novel).

6. When Atsushi wakes up from his nightmare, there’s some additional inner monologue:

Everything’s okay. I’m not the same person I was when I lived at the orphanage. I have friends. I have a place where I belong — the Armed Detective Agency. Things are different now.

The anime (and in turn the movie) tends to downplay the effects of Atsushi’s trauma — probably due to the limitations of anime — but regardless the novel portrays it much better with how Atsushi’s trauma affects practically every aspect of his life.

7. I thought Fukuzawa’s ability only gave his subordinates control over their abilities, but the novel says:

“Yukichi Fukuzawa and his skill, All Men are Equal, a peculiar ability that allowed him to suppress and control his subordinates’ skills.”

Does this mean that Fukuzawa could control and suppress all of the agency’s abilities? It could be a weird translation, but it seems oddly specific.

8. This detail isn’t actually a novel exclusive, but it is an extremely small detail that I missed while watching the movie, so I figured I would add it here too.

“the phantom’s notebook had the word Compromise written on the cover. A copy of himself that didn’t follow ideals but made compromises was an abomination to Kunikida.”

Considering how abilities act as the shadow to every character in this story, this is a nice detail that shows how Kunikida’s inner desire is to compromise, because carrying such heavy ideals is undoubtedly a burden. However, because he holds onto his ideals so strongly, it becomes his biggest weakness AND his biggest strength.

9. There’s a super small detail added to this scene with Dazai, Fyodor, and Shibusawa. When Dazai suggests that Shibusawa could be saved by an angel or a demon, the following exchange occurs:

“Hmm... Maybe an angel?” Dazai picked up the skull on the table. “Or maybe a demon?” “It’s obvious what both of your true intentions are, if you ask me.” The third man mirthfully cackled and took the skull from Dazai’s hand.

In the movie, Dazai doesn’t pick up anything, so as a result Fyodor doesn’t take anything from Dazai either.

Because Fyodor walked into the scene after Dazai suggested that an angel or demon would save Shibusawa, I strongly suspect that this was foreshadowing future events in which Fyodor does “save” Shibusawa by giving him his memories back.

The novel adds more to this foreshadowing by having Dazai pick up the skull before it’s taken by Fyodor — essentially having Fyodor take the cards out of Dazai’s hands and put them in his favor.

It’s also worth pointing out that the skull is also the object that Fyodor uses to revive Shibusawa into a supernatural ghost of some sorts at the end of the story.

10. This may be just a difference in translations but in the movie, Shibusawa refers to Fyodor as “Demon Fyodor-kun”, whereas in the novel Fyodor is called “Fyodor the Conjurer.” (Ango uses the Conjurer title as well).

In western esotericism, a conjurer is a person who summons supernatural beings, like spirits, demons, or God.

This slightly changes the connotation of Fyodor’s title from a inhuman being of pure malicious intent to just a human who summons these otherworldly beings. This idea also aligns with Shibusawa’s revival, since he’s some sort of supernatural ghost that was “summoned” by Fyodor.

11. Skipping past the parts where Kyouka and Akutagawa regain their abilities, and Chuuya talks to Ango in the government facility, (since they have little to no changes between the movie and the novel) there is a somewhat significant detail changed in Draconia once again with Dazai and Fyodor.

In the novel, this glowing ball of energy from the movie is actually described as an apple:

The two lights melted into one and spun until they formed a juicy sphere. They had produced a single apple — a juicy, poisoned apple red as blood.

It birthed a skill — and an extremely powerful one at that — the ability to absorb. Every last crystal adorning Draconia’s walls was sucked into the apple with intense force. Ten — a hundred — a thousand — two thousand — every last one was greedily devoured by the apple...

The apple swelled as it absorbed the numerous crystals until the red light became hotter than the surface of hell.

Since the “dead apple” motif aligns with Fyodor’s character, we can assume that the apple is representative of sin, and sin is associated with abilities, as Fyodor believes.

This strange poisoned apple is made of abilities and has an ability (the ability to absorb), and it commits a sin (greed) in its devouring of other abilities; it’s also hotter than “hell”, which is a very specific connection that leads me to this idea:

My theory is that a normal apple represents life, while a poisoned apple (or dead apple), indicative of a stained, impure life, represents sin. Fyodor believes abilities are akin to sin (what a clever rhyme), therefore all of their lives are sinful.

12. This is arguably the most insignificant change of this entire post, but I feel obligated to put it here regardless since it was different from the movie. When the Special Division detects the singularity of Shibusawa’s dragon form in the novel, it says:

“Abnormal values for singularity are increasing! They’re twice — no, 2.5 times higher than they were six years ago.”

In the movie, the number is five times higher instead.

Why did this number change? Is it significant? I honestly have no idea (I’m surprised I even caught this), but it’s there and I had to document it anyways.

13. The novel adds this narration for Shibusawa when he gets his memories back and he’s in the orphanage’s room with Atsushi:

“Shibusawa clearly recalled the events from six years ago. Fyodor had enticed him to go to the orphanage where he tortured a young Atsushi... until Atsushi fought back and killed him.”

There’s two things to take away from this: Fyodor had known Shibusawa for at least six years, and Fyodor had been planning the events of Dead Apple since at least six years ago.

I find it hard to believe that Fyodor’s plan was thwarted by Dazai, because of how Fyodor demonstrated his ability to plan ahead in the main series, but I’m not sure what the long term effects of this plan could be. If Shibusawa succeeded, then it could’ve aligned with the DOA’s goals, but once again I don’t think Fyodor’s plan was actually foiled.

14. Super minor once again, but right after Shibusawa gets revived, the last sentence of chapter 5 is,

“Nobody would ever see the smile on Fyodor’s face.”

Honestly, I think this was just added to create an ominous tone, but it’s a nice detail regardless.

15. As the red fog spreads across Yokohama, there’s a good part of exposition that connects the “dead apple” motif to Fyodor once again:

“After the red fog devoured the earth, the planet would undoubtedly look like a floating red apple from space. There would be no humans left on its surface, nor any signs they ever existed. It would be a true paradise, and with that, the Dead Apple would finally be complete. A dead planet covered in red fog — that was what Fyodor had planned and sought out.

Nothing other than death could wash away the original sin of man, so it was only fitting for the sin, which started with a fruit, to end with one as well.

It’s pretty long, but I like the way this passage is written, more specifically the last part since it fits well with the sinful poisoned apple idea.

It also aligns with Fyodor’s ideals of creating a true paradise, free of ability users. However, if Fyodor had planned to have the Earth covered in fog, that could mean that his plan was actually stopped by Dazai and Atsushi in the end.

16. Shibusawa has a few additional lines of dialogue when he talks to Atsushi in their final fight.

“The dragon and tiger... I see now why they are called rivals.”

The dragon and tiger have their roots in Chinese Buddhism, but to go further into that topic would make this already lengthy post even longer.

“Don’t get the wrong idea, though. I’m not blaming you for what happened.”

This line is a brief moment of weakness for Shibusawa, which is interesting in contrast to his strong will to kill Atsushi. Just as Atsushi learned to accept the past and the tiger’s ferocity, Shibusawa shares the same attitude by separating the blame from himself to just simply accepting the past for what happened.

17. In the aftermath of the last fight against Shibusawa, Atsushi and Kyouka meet up with Dazai.

Kyouka asks, “Are you sure this is what you wanted?” which prompts two different responses in the movie and novel respectively.

In the movie, Atsushi says, “Just as Shibusawa was able to forget that he’d been killed before, I think Dazai can put his past behind him again. But this is fine.”

In the novel, Atsushi says:

“... I could probably seal away this memory just like how I’d forgotten I’d killed him before. But... I’m okay with this.”

I interpreted Kyouka’s question in the movie to be questioning Dazai’s loyalties, as he did betray everyone, and Atsushi responded in Dazai’s defense because he trusts him.

However, the novel does change Atsushi’s response to focus on himself rather than Dazai, which in turn changes the implications of Kyouka’s question.

Kyouka seems to be asking Atsushi whether he was okay with killing Shibusawa, and Atsushi responds by acknowledging that he did kill Shibusawa, and that’s okay. (a very clear development from the beginning of the story when he believed it was unnecessary to kill anyone, and he didn’t want to kill anyone)

18. In the epilogue, Ango talks about the underlying motivations behind the “Dead Apple” case. This change could be attributed to translation differences (like many others in this post), but the connotation does slightly differ from movie to novel.

In the movie, Ango says, “How is a man like Shibusawa, so intelligent that others look like alien creatures to him, to act, to be destroyed, or to be saved?”

In the novel, Ango says:

“Perhaps the two of them [Dazai and Fyodor] just wanted to get a glimpse of someone like them... Perhaps they wanted to see what he would do and how he would meet his demise... or perhaps how he would be saved.”

The movie simply poses a broad question of what would happen to Shibusawa, a person alienated from the rest of society.

The novel changes this to focus on Dazai and Fyodor’s perspective — two irredeemable aliens from society just like Shibusawa — executing this grand scheme out of curiosity to see what would happen to someone of the likes of them, and if there’s a possibility for redemption.

19. This is the final difference on this list, and it’s quite a large change. In Fyodor’s monologue at the very end of the story, he has a completely different tone from the movie to novel.

In the movie, Fyodor says, “But in order to end this world, rife with crime and punishment, I do need that book.”

The novel says:

Glittering high-rises and stately brick buildings stood side by side in this port city with its countless citizens who struggled against crime and punishment. “I think I’ve taken a liking to this city myself..” Fyodor took a bite of the apple in his hand, and the juicy nectar ran down his delicate fingers. “You’d all better be on your best behavior until next time.”

The reference to the book may have been removed for consistency with the main series, as the book is a part of the DOA’s plan (or more specifically Fukuchi).

It also seems like Fyodor has grown fond of the city, and no longer wants Yokohama to be destroyed, so it’s still possible that his plan deterred from what he had originally intended.

Beyond that, I’m not entirely sure why crime and punishment was mentioned, or why there’s such an ominous tone to his ending statement, but that’s up to personal interpretation.

That concludes the long list of extremely specific and minor differences between the Dead Apple movie and light novel!

Overall, I would say it’s worth checking out the light novel if you don’t have a strong grasp of the Dead Apple story, because it definitely presents the small intricacies of the plot in a more comprehensible way.

On a side note, the manga adaptation has a lot of noticeable differences from the movie and light novel, mostly with the addition of entirely new scenes (which you can read @buraihatranslations — what a shameless self plug). I would highly recommend reading it as those extra scenes are very amusing, to say the least without giving any spoilers.

Honestly, this post was a lot longer than I intended, but I hope you enjoyed it regardless. Thank you for reading!

#bsd #bsd dead apple #bsd meta #bungou stray dogs

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agent-cupcake · 3 years

Text

Leucoium - Sylvain Jose Gautier x Reader

Hey hello this is my half of the trade with @lightmyfireemblem and I know I’m late but what can I say? I’m terrible :3c This is utterly despicable, okay? Fifteen thousand words of mushy gush Sylvain Jose Gautier romancing. Some angst. Nothing weird this time. She wanted something specific with a winter ball and reader’s feelings, but I got carried away with doing set-up so everything would make sense. Forgive me.

It was springtime when you met him, the time of bloom and blossom in the town of Garreg Mach. You hid from your classmates and teachers alike among the flowers in the greenhouse, such an oddity after a lifetime in Faerghus. Less odd was the way you chased isolation in the fragrant sanctuary. A disagreeable, antisocial child. The youngest of three, a potential playing card in your parent’s deck of the social sphere. Nothing more. Even though you were only just teetering on the tremulous line between girl and woman, you’d long submitted yourself to the natural rule of your family’s cold definition. There was contentment in such a fate, comfort in playing hide and seek with life.

Until you were found.

“Hey there, beautiful,” Sylvain —a classmate and Faerghus lord you knew really only in passing— greeted you, pulling you away from your book. He stood among the flowers in the filtered green of sunshine drifting in through the glass, his hair and uniform stylishly messy and expression open and friendly. “I was looking for you. Not that you made it particularly easy.”

You looked up at the tall man from your book, confused and unsettled by being approached. If you weren’t the only one around, you probably would have told yourself he was talking to someone else as just cause to ignore the greeting. As it was, you couldn’t think of any real response. The level of familiarity he used to address you was jarring, uncomfortable. But even as an awkward moment passed of your confused staring, Sylvain didn’t falter. He was all confidence and smiles and bright, bright red. The kind of red that the goddess painted the leaves and berries of dangerous plants to ward people off, the kind that was best left to be admired from afar but never touched. And you were used to that type of spectatorship, to living behind a veil of reality where you could stay out of sight and out of mind.

Even so.

“Find me?” you asked after clearing your throat.

“The professor asked,” he said. “Y’know, if you keep skipping class, you could get in trouble.”

Although you had a variety of reasons why you hadn’t gone to classes that day, you doubted that they’d hold firm to any amount of questioning. It was childish of you. Unseemly.

With a sigh, you got to your feet. Strangely, Sylvain offered his hand. To you, the gesture registered as something like a threat. Not because it posed any danger, but because you understood what it meant and what was expected of you and the polite thoughtfulness of the offer. Rather than try and deal with any of that, you avoided it altogether, acting like you didn’t notice. Luckily, he didn’t seem to be bothered.

“Of course, I’d be more than willing to speak up on your behalf,” Sylvain told you, his voice hurried as if to ease your mind. “Me? I can take that kind of thing, but it doesn’t seem right to punish a delicate girl like you for losing track of time.”

You frowned up at him, holding your book tight against your chest and uncomfortably shifting from foot to foot as you considered him. Beautiful, he said. Delicate. Was this normal? How were you supposed to respond to things like that? The two of you were practically strangers, nevermind the glaring class difference. Although, it was not just class that separated the two of you. There was some social, deeply personal gap between people like you and him that couldn’t be defined by status or money or title, something that couldn’t be bridged. Couldn’t he tell?

Awkward, you shrugged. “It’s okay.”

Sylvain frowned. “Right… So, uh, do you like flowers?”

“I do,” you answered. Trying to ease the conversation into a slightly more comfortable place, you slowly added, “You don’t see much of them in Faerghus. Not like this, anyway.”

Even though your comment was simple, it seemed to energize Sylvain right back into a smile. “Right? It was kind of shocking. To be honest, I didn’t even know so many types of flowers could be grown,” he said.

You nodded, giving a faint hum of agreement.

“No matter how beautiful they are, though,” Sylvain said, not discouraged by your lack of response, “they pale in comparison to your beauty.” He paused before adding, “What do you think? If you and I were flowers, would we have a budding romance?”

It shouldn’t have worked. It was a terrible, terrible line. But it kind of did.

If it weren’t for your crippling lack of social prowess, you might have fallen for it. But instead, you ducked your head and cleared your throat and asked where the professor wanted to see you because you knew what you were and had no idea how to respond to such things. In so many ways, you were as fresh as the snow white lambs only just making their way into the world, as vacant as the breezy spring winds that danced over the surface of rippling water. Not because of your innocence, but because of your lack of experience. The difference between those two things was the value of either in a girl like you.

Did he know that? Did he see that?

Sylvain certainly backed off after that awkward first meeting, letting you run off with the disquieting sensation of eyes on your back.

But still, he returned. You had been hiding in the Knight’s Hall, making up on the homework you’d missed in class. Sylvain approached you with an apology for making you uncomfortable, which was unexpected and baffling. A few days later in the library, he sat down and struck up a discussion on literature. After that came an invitation to dinner which you declined. And then an invitation to tea which you accepted. After a certain point, you understood who he was and his rather damning reputation. Not that you really cared. Who were you to care? To judge? The gap between the two of you was impossible, but he acted like it didn’t exist. And you liked that.

Sylvain was your first friend. You wondered if he knew that, too.

Spring bled into the warmer season and, despite your glaring lack of social skills and suspicions that he was merely humoring you, the odd dynamic continued onward.

Summer’s end was wet and tempestuous. Congested hot stormclouds brewed above and pressed thick tension down onto the dreary frightened group marching their somber return to Garreg Mach from Conand Tower. The rain had stopped for a spell, mud squelching beneath your boots and the sound of demonic screeching echoed in the silence among your fellow students. Shadows encircled Sylvain’s red-rimmed eyes, his face pale despite the tan he’d managed to cultivate over the sunny season. He told you about the cruelty of a brother driven to barbarity by his jealous rage. He told you he shouldn’t care. He told you it was fine.

But dusk fell, inviting a forceful deluge, and Sylvain told you what hate felt like, what it was to cough up blood and loathing and wish to see yourself destroyed under its crushing weight. Beneath the pounding, pulsing, palpitating hypnosis of the rain, Sylvain told you about pain, and fear, and the destruction he’d inherited through his blood. He forced the words out through gritted teeth as if that alone could contain the simmering, seething disgust and scorn he held for the world that cultivated men like Miklan and men like him. You listened, just about the only thing you knew yourself to be good at.

By the time the rain stopped and the sun rose, Sylvain was shrugging the previous night away with a smile and apologizing for his behavior. He acted unbothered and laughed like everything was fine but the sound was too forceful and within the next two weeks he dated and broke up with no less than eleven girls. Something made sense to you after that, an understanding you’d never had for another person. You weren’t a spectator to him. With him.

Autumn drifted into Garreg Mach with the spun gold of harvest and scent of tanned hides from the hunt. Rotting leaves crunched beneath your feet, death and decay inviting the unraveling disaster that seemed to never end.

In a rare moment of quiet, Sylvain asked about your family. The casual curiosity stole your breath, made your eyes widen like a deer who’d been spotted by the hunt. It was, you knew, a pathetic story. Anticlimactic, pointless. But you told him. In the isolated cover of the library, you leaned your chin into the crook of your folded arm and stared with glassy eyes at the books stacked up in front of you and told Sylvain that you knew your parents didn’t care for you like they did your sisters, that sending you off to the Academy was a way to give you pedigree you’d never get from your own merits. You told him about inadequacy, and what it was to not be enough, and the way that words could be ground deep into the marrow of your bones until you stopped being a person and accepted an identity given to you by others because it was too difficult to try being anyone else. Sylvain put his hand over yours and told you that they were wrong about you, his lovely dark eyes filled with the compassion so many accused him of lacking. He looked at you like that and told you that he understood. And you believed him.

As surely as the sun would rise in the morning and the seasons would change, Sylvain became a habit of yours. The odd hours he’d help you study, the afternoons drinking tea together, the crystalline moments of having your life saved time and time again because you always found yourself in the bloody fray of the front lines, nearly suicidal in the surge of destruction. But Sylvain never called you helpless, or useless, or weak, or childish, or disagreeable and you knew the gap could never be bridged, but you liked the warmth of being near him, even if it was nothing more than fragmented charity.

“Why?” you asked once. It was cold and your breath misted in front of your dry lips.

Sylvain shrugged casually. “I dunno. I guess you’re just easy to be around.”

And that made you laugh. Honestly laugh. Because nobody had ever said that, you doubted anybody had ever thought that. You, disagreeable and antisocial and unable to hold a conversation or eye contact. Not you. But he sounded so genuine, so casual, like it was the truth. Somehow, it was the truth.

“What about you?” Sylvain asked. “Why do you like me?”

You looked at him and wondered. He was a strange man to be sure. Cruel. Cold-hearted in ways that should have made him unlikable. Flirtatious in ways that made you decidedly uncomfortable. Womanizing. Dispassionate about many things you’d been taught to place importance on. But that wasn’t it. Not by half. Nor was it that he was handsome, or smooth talking, or because he had a title or Crest. Those things —like the mountains or the moon or his red, red hair— just were. No. You stared him down and considered that question because you knew there was something that went deeper than any of that. Why did you like him? Because he had been kind to you. Because for some reason you couldn’t explain, he tried. Because, despite everything, he seemed to care. To understand.

You shrugged. “I guess you’re just easy to be around.”

Winter in Garreg Mach was, despite the tragedy, filled with excitement for the White Heron Ball. You were a poor dancer but nobody had really expected you to participate anyway.

So you avoided the cheerful party in favor of the chilly winter night, watching snowflakes drift down in careless little clusters. They were big and wet, but not oppressive or unkind. It was too warm in Central Fódlan for them to stick just yet.

“I thought you might be out here. Not too keen on parties?” Sylvain asked, the question playfully knowing. It didn’t surprise you that he’d somehow be able to find you. He had an uncanny ability for that. You nodded in response. Not put off by your lack of verbal response, Sylvain took the spot beside you to watch the snow slowly drift down from the velvety dark void of the sky into the calming halo of light. “Guess that’s not surprising…. Anyway, assuming you don’t mind my company, I’d love to stay here for a bit. I need to lay low for a little while.”

“Why?” you asked.

“The girl I’ve been going out with saw me dancing with another girl and made a big scene,” he said, frowning. “She accused me of cheating on her.”

“Were you?” you asked, giving him a sideways glance.

Sylvain shrugged. “Well, yeah, but I didn’t think we were serious enough for her to freak out on me like that.” He let those words settle before his expression changed, a mischievous smile forming on his face. “Anyway, enough of that. As long as we’re here, it’d be very remiss of me to pass up on the chance to ask the cutest girl in Garreg Mach to do me the pleasure of a dance.”

You met his eyes. It was too dark to see their steady sepia color, but the far off lights allowed you to see the way he looked at you. What would it feel like for him to hold you, his hand in yours, the other on your back? Twirling around in synchronized steps, close enough for you to smell him, to feel his warmth. You looked away.

“No, thank you.”

“And the chances of me changing that answer to a yes…?”

“Very low,” you responded with a resolute nod. “There’s not any music.”

“That’s fine, we’d be guided by the sweet melody of love,” he said. You didn’t reply. “That was a joke. C’mon, it’s just you and me here. Even if you’re terrible, nobody else will see.”

It was presumptuous of him to say that you would be terrible, but he wasn’t wrong. Nobody had ever accused you of grace. You thought about tripping and stumbling, messing up the rhythm, embarrassing yourself completely in front of Sylvain. The idea made your face hot, your stomach dropping and shoulders curling inwards. “No.”

Sylvain sighed. “Is it because of what I told you about the girls from earlier?”

“No,” you said, confused by the question.

“‘Cause I know how it probably looks, but I swear that it’s completely different from you... I guess I say that a lot, too,” Sylvain paused, frowning like he wasn’t sure how to continue that line of thought.

You weren’t sure if the idea of being “different” was a good or bad thing. Was it because he didn’t view you as a girl? Or because you were just friends? That was a good thing, wasn’t it? It made your heart ache a bit. It made you wish, just for a second, that you were better at dancing. Then you wouldn’t be an afterthought sought out when his other options were removed. Even if you were just one of the cycling girls he spun around, you would spend those moments in his arms being an object of desire. Fleeting affection, temporary happiness. Moments, as lovely and short-lived as the dainty snowflakes illuminated by the light. You wondered if that was what he wanted, truly.

“Does it make you happy?” you asked after a moment. “The girls, I mean. Dating, dancing. It seems like it causes quite a few problems for you.”

Sylvain looked at you with something like surprise at the seemingly random question, his stare becoming harder than before as he considered something. Finally, he shrugged, forcing a casual air. “It’s fun, I guess,” he said, his voice tight in a defensive way. “Why? You’re not about to start lecturing me, are you?”

“No,” you told him.

“Okay,” he said, his disbelief clear.

“I wouldn’t ever lecture you for what you choose to do,” you told him softly, regretting having brought it up at all. “You’re your own person… You deserve to take responsibility for your own happiness.”

“Oh, well… Thanks, I guess,” Sylvain said awkwardly, a beat too late. The silence crinkled like dry paper between you. “Um, anyway, you know what would make me very happy?”

“What?” you asked, glad for the change of subject.

“A dance with the cutest girl I know,” Sylvain said, shooting you a winning smile.

Cute. That was a word he used a lot. You weren’t sure anybody else had ever accused you of such a thing.

“Maybe another time,” you said, staring down at the paving stones, uncomfortably flattered. And you didn’t mean it and you were pretty sure Sylvain knew that, but he laughed and stretched his arms behind his head and didn’t ask about what you’d said or why you’d said it, letting the moment be.

And then the world shattered beneath the monastery.

It was the bleakest, coldest, darkest part of winter when Dimitri lost it. Edelgard marched her armies on Garreg Mach through the frosted freezing air. War consumed everything you had thought to be stable, shaking apart the walls around you. When you returned, home was not quite the home you’d known before leaving. Like you didn’t quite fit anymore.

Seasons turned as stubbornly as ever. Years passed, day by day, moon by moon. As the third daughter to an earl in Gautier territory, you stuck around during those years of war, your habit continuing to grow during the occasional visit to your far more powerful and important friend. He didn’t have much time for you, and that was fine. It was what you were, a pale shadow hiding in the places so nobody would mistake you for something more. And that was fine. You taught yourself strategy and politics and occasionally allowed yourself to pretend to amount to more.

It was winter, winter again, when the war campaign rallying behind Dimitri and Professor Byleth returned in earnest, ice beneath your feet and chills gripping your skin beneath your armor, numbing your fingers and toes. It was winter and you and Sylvain were brothers in arms, and that was fine. You liked fighting at his side, you liked sitting in the dining hall and listening to your friends talk from a chair in the corner and pretending that this was your life, that you could have this always. Even on the edge of death and despair. Even then.

It was springtime when Sylvain confessed, the few final days right on the edge of summer. Out of the snow and miserable bluster of winter warfare spring had emerged, the chill air warmed by a dahlia sun filtered through a gauzy haze of lingering wet mist. Five years had passed since Sylvain waltzed into the greenhouse, five cyclical, cynical seasons of horror and destruction. But to everything a season, and the rebirth was coming. A new world emerging like chicks from their egg, flowers from seeds.

The two of you sat in the garden near the dining hall, enjoying the changing weather over tea. You wondered how much had really changed, considering the way you felt compelled to avoid Sylvain’s dark eyes, constantly shifting in your chair. More and more you’d become aware of a certain type of tension between the two of you, an awkwardness you didn’t know what to call or how to handle. It was different from the friendship you’d fostered, but not quite. It made your stomach twist into knots, jumping with the pitter-pattering wing-beats of butterflies.

It had really begun after Dimitri’s coronation. Considering the circumstances, the party hadn’t been anything special, but there had been a feast. And some drinking. And even a bit of dancing. Sylvain had kissed you and told yourself that it didn’t mean anything because he kissed a lot of girls and he was drunk, nevermind that he had neither been with another girl that night nor had his voice been altered by the telltale slur of intoxication. But what other reason could you think of to explain it away? After all, he couldn’t mean anything like that. Not when it came to you.

Even so.

“Y’know…” Sylvain told you, uncharacteristically awkward. “The wars gonna end soon.”

“That’s true,” you said, keeping your eyes distracted by watching the wind dance among the grass and shake the tree’s leaves into a shimmery wonder.

“And I hope that, by now, you know that I… uh…” Sylvain trailed off, leaving the thought unfinished. “Well, you know.”

“Know what?” you asked, put off by his shift in tone. “Is something wrong?”

Sylvain’s eyes widened and he scratched the back of his head, a nervous movement you’d noticed a few times. Not quite like now, though. Not with the way his cheeks were slightly pink and his body tense and eyes flicking away from yours. Usually, it was you who avoided eye contact.

“No! Of course not. What would be wrong?” he asked. “I was just wondering… Do you have any plans? For after the war, I mean. Or, I guess what I’m trying to ask is if you’re, y’know, seeing anyone?”

“I’m seeing you,” you offered after a beat. You knew what he was asking, but not why he’d ask. That made you nervous, your heart thumping unhelpfully.

“What?” Sylvain asked, his eyes wide. A second later, that expression of shock composed itself in understanding. “Oh, you mean… Right. That’s… not what I meant.”

“I know.”

Sylvain frowned, his eyebrows furrowing in something like frustration. “You’re difficult to read, you know that?”

“So are you,” you said under your breath, staring down at the toe of your shoe. Alliance merchants had come to Garreg Mach with all sorts of finery and wares, but you’d never gotten out of the habit of living in the hand-me-downs of your older sisters. These shoes had been nice when they were purchased by now they were old and worn and not quite yours, your feet not the ones to have broken them in.

You looked up at Sylvain, folding your hands carefully in front of you. “Obviously I’m not seeing anyone.” You hoped there was nothing bitter in your voice, that he wouldn’t pick up the ache you felt in saying it aloud. “What about you?”

“Nope, I’m completely single,” Sylvain said a little too quickly. A moment later, his shoulders deflated. “Actually, it’s kinda funny, I haven’t had much luck with girls recently... But that’s not what I wanted to talk about! See, I was just thinking. I mean, I wanted to tell you that I… I think this thing between you and me is… It’s good. I like it. I-I like you.”

You’d never gotten the trick to responding to such things. Praise, flirtations, whatever he meant by them, it seemed to always catch you off guard. Especially now, especially like this. Avoidance or honesty, you had to pick one. Eventually, you decided to go the way of honesty. “I feel the same,” you said slowly, hesitantly.

Sylvain smiled a big, goofy smile like he won something, looking at you like you were worth looking at. Like you were beautiful. He called you beautiful a lot, but it was just a word. A word without meaning, lots of things were beautiful without meaning. Flowers, snow, fire, all of them could make a person’s heart ache with their beauty, yet they could never last long enough for the word to stick. That look in Sylvain’s eyes, though, that was different. It made you feel differently, almost enough to convince you that it meant something, that you meant something.

“You told me a while ago that I deserved to take responsibility for my own happiness,” Sylvain said. “At the time, I thought that you meant that it was okay that I was doing the things I was doing. Chasing girls, being a good-for-nothing, just accepting that one day I’d be married off for my Crest. But that’s not what you meant, was it?” It took a second, but eventually, you remembered that conversation. So long ago now that it felt like another lifetime. In a way it was. Another life, another season. Undeterred by your lack of answer, Sylvain continued. “You’re pretty wise, you know that? Even if you say that you’re not.” He sighed, running his palms over his thighs nervously. “Anyway, I think you were right. And I’d like to do that. To decide for myself how to be happy, to decide for myself who makes me happy. And I realized... that it’s you. So… Uh… I don’t expect you to answer right away, but that’s how I feel. I just needed to get that off my chest.”

Your lips parted, but no words came out. You realized from a third person point of view that were you just sitting there, looking at him with a wide eyed, open mouthed look of shock and it was definitely not very attractive but you felt like you couldn’t move, like your brain had shorted out.

“Me?” you finally asked.

“Well, yeah,” Sylvain said, his eyebrows furrowing. “I don’t see anyone else around.”

Me? You wanted to repeat that question, ask it a million times until his answer made sense because it didn’t, not when he was talking about himself and happiness and what he wanted. Not you.

Looking at Sylvain, all you could see was the same attractive nobleman who came searching for you in the greenhouse with a grin and questionable intentions and a bad pick-up line, all you could see was the immeasurable chasm that existed between the two of you. Not status, not wealth, not title. Just you and Sylvain, the core of what you were and what you amounted to.

The longer your silence stretched on, the more concerned Sylvain’s expression became. It was a cute look. He always pretended to play it cool, like he didn’t actually care that much, especially when it came to girls. But he did. “Hey, are you okay?” he began to get up to come towards you, but you jumped to your feet, swaying unsteadily.

“I need to, uh, think. About this,” you said, the words coming out stiff and as stilted as you felt. Sylvain sat back, frowning. When he looked like that, you wanted to say yes, to agree, to throw yourself into his arms and beg him to smile at you like he had so many times before. You couldn’t tell if that desire was selfish or hopeful or idealistic.

“Yeah, I figured you would. That’s fine.”

“I’m sorry,” you said. Then, just as quickly, “Thank you. Goodbye.”

Sylvain said something more, but you didn’t hear it. You weren’t running away from him. Fast walking, maybe, the worn soles of your old shoes hitting the paving stones at a rapid pace. Why? You wondered that with every step. You didn’t want to. You didn’t want to. You didn’t want to.

But you did.

It was only when you were secluded in the safety of the greenhouse that you realized how much of a fool you’d made of yourself. You realized something else, too. You realized why you hadn’t done what you wished you had and thrown yourself into his arms, informed by an angry little whisper that sounded an awful lot like the family who had cast you out to Garreg Mach to keep you out of sight for a time. Hiding in the muggy nook between exotic flowers, you knew yourself to be the disagreeable and unlikable girl you’d always been. You had told Sylvain once that he deserved to be responsible for his own happiness, but that didn’t mean you. Not awkward, strange, and occasionally even unlikable you. You were many things, but you weren’t a good tempered lady who could help him in his duties as Margrave Gautier, not someone worth loving. Not someone who could give him what he needed to be happy.

It was springtime, and the world was blooming.

It was beautiful, it really was.

In one of the last lingering days of late summer, you sought him out. The day had been long, longer than any other. But now it was over. For some strange reason, you couldn’t help but feel some regret for that fact. Edelgard was dead, her fallen body marking the end of an era, the tragically human final act of an age of titans and gods. A new age had begun. Looking half a fleeting ember, the victorious sun laid between heaven and earth, casting its last radiant gaze across a place on the cusp of change. Tomorrow, it would rise over a different world, bringing with it a new dawn.

The won city Enbarr was torn and ragged from the battle, heartache at every corner. There was a hollow, spectral feeling to the destruction. People had been evacuated from places like these, places where the damage was the worst. It was a ghost town now. Marching back through the complicated network of streets that had served as a battleground only hours prior wasn’t exactly what you wanted to be doing. Not really. You had already done many difficult things today, taken many lives. This wouldn’t be the most difficult, not by a long shot, but it weighed heavily on your shoulders. Your final task. After this, you could rest.

You found Sylvain in the wild, crackling air of dusk’s saturated flare at the edge of the famed Enbarr canal, blanketed in the golden honey light of sunset. Late summer in Embarr was overripe and damp, swollen with the saltwater dew from being so near the sea. The humidity was worse here, at the lip of the waterway. Congested condensation and a cloying, musty scent clung to your scalp, beading up on the skin beneath your clothes.

Sylvain sat with one foot dangling over the edge, the other knee bent to make an armrest. He had an uncapped flask in hand. Inches away from the toe of his boot, the water rippled and distorted with his reflection. Sylvain looked every bit the hero he was with that handsome, contemplative expression as he looked to the horizon. You sat beside him without asking, staring up at the approaching night sky and letting out a big breath you’d been holding for what felt like hours. Days. Months. Years, five of them in total. It was a very big breath.

“Hey gorgeous,” Sylvain said.

Your head tipped back to give him a sideways glance. Smiling, of course he was smiling at you. The summer had darkened his skin a shade or two, his cheeks and nose tinged pink from the burning, radiant sun. It should have looked off with the bright red of his hair, but on him, it just worked. His teeth were white against the tan, but you saw something beyond the attractive expression. The slope of his shoulders and furrowed brow, the cloudy distraction behind his umber eyes. Not to mention the alcohol you could smell on his breath. Sylvain had paid the price for heroism. You all had. Enemies, allies, friends —rivers could run with the amount of blood that had been spilled. Who had he been thinking of? Edelgard? Hubert? Dorothea? Sylvain and the lovely songstress had been close, all those years and years ago.

But maybe it wasn’t her, maybe it wasn’t the searing gash of fresh tragedy that drove him here. Maybe he drank to ease the ache of old wounds, a pain that most had forgotten by now. Miklan had been a black hearted and cruel man, but he was Sylvain’s brother, and he had been the first to die.

“Hi,” you said, meeting his smile with a small attempt at one of your own. There were times to point out his charming charades, to ask what it was that he had been thinking about, but not now.

“What brings you here?” Sylvain asked. There was a subtext there. A surprise. You hardly ever approached him, always waiting and hoping for him to come to you first. Uncertain, awkward, too frightened of rejection should you make your desires known. This was, in a way, almost like an echo of your disastrous first introduction.

“You.”

Sylvain blinked. “Oh? It must be my lucky day.”

Lucky day? You wondered about that, a tumultuous gust of emotion swirling in your stomach. The victory had been absolute. No large losses, none of your friends had died today. Yes, that was lucky. The people of Enbarr had readily accepted Dimitri as their ruler. Also lucky.

You looked away from Sylvain, towards the sky. The sun was quickly disappearing. So quick, taking the spun sugar clouds and tangy sweet hues of sunset along with it. It moved despite all your wishes, prompting the future onward without mercy.

“You look pretty cute when you’re lost in thought like that,” Sylvain said. “But shouldn’t you be celebrating?”

You blinked, snapping out of your thoughts. “What about you?”

“I am.” He held up the flask with a lopsided smile. “Want some? It’s good, I snagged it from the Imperial storehouse.”

You eyed it for a second before giving in. Dimitri would have yelled at the two of you. Well, no, he’d have frowned in disapproval. Ingrid would have yelled. But you took a swig of the spiced liquor and decided that it was fine. Faerghus had a lot of alcohol, but it hardly ever tasted good. This was good. It left a searing trail down your throat and into your stomach, twisting your thoughts up into a properly warm buzz. You took another drink.

“The war is over now,” you eventually said, handing back the flask. “But it’s not really over, is it?”

Sylvain hesitated before answering, the rushing water beneath your dangling feet filling the silent space. Stars were revealing themselves now, chasing away the day for once and for all. “It’ll take time to make things right again, but the worst is over. Probably.” He paused and you could feel him looking at you, his stare intent. “Why?”

“You said before that you care about me,” you said, unable to meet his eye while remembering that afternoon and all of the embarrassment that had come of it. “Do you, uh, do you remember?” “How could I not?” Sylvain asked. “Gotta be honest, it’s been a while since a girl ran away from me like that.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, frowning. “I was… Overwhelmed.” To say in the least. Just thinking about his confession made your cheeks blaze and stomach churn.

“It’s okay. You get this adorable expression when you’re embarrassed,” Sylvain said. He was grinning, you could hear it in his voice.

Rather than panic by trying to figure out a retort to being called adorable under these circumstances, you thought about what it had felt like to kiss him all those moons ago. You measured the honesty behind the words of his confession and thought about the pain he hid so well from the world in a gnarled, terrible place in his heart. You thought about the secrets you’d exchanged and the many times he’d saved your life. You thought about the terrible person he occasionally indulged in being, and the wonderful man who existed despite that. You thought about Sylvain and the words came to you like the sweet nectar drawn from the dainty honeysuckle bloom. You wondered if you could really deserve it and the words came to you softly, emerging harsh and low, pulled out from your lips like poison from a wound.

“I really care about you, Sylvain,” you told him stiffly.

“Really? That’s good!” he said, grinning. When you didn’t answer, his posture wilted. “That is good, isn’t it?”

“Dimitri asked me to stay in Enbarr to smooth out the transition into a unified Fódlan.”

“And you said….”

“Yes.”

Sylvain let out a breath that was almost a humorless laugh, his lips turned up in a half-smile that didn’t at all meet his dark eyes. You felt your heart break, just a tiny bit. The easiest thing to do, just a few words, yet one of the heaviest tasks you’d performed all day.

“So… That’s it?” he asked.

You loved him. You had for a while. Loved him in all the different forms the feeling could manifest, you knew that with an oppressive weight of fact. A vicious whisper in your mind insisted that he couldn’t love you, that it was all a beautiful little lie. Pity, even. But maybe it was all fake and manufactured and the feelings he spoke of were meaningless because you were just that easy, awkward and strange and never quite fitting in, you made a perfect target for someone like him to swoop in and seduce and you’d fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. But it felt nice and you couldn’t find yourself to care, or to blame him even if that was the case. Because it was nice. And warm. And lovely.

Besides, if it was true, if he was honest, then this was for the best anyway. He deserved better than what you could offer.

The sun was gone, the wild darkness of summer nights enveloping the two of you in an intimate cloak, a world of your own.

“Would it really be very hard?” you asked, staring up at the stars to avoid his eyes. “After all, I’m…”

No, you didn’t finish that thought. Not aloud. But you thought it —I’m me, and you’re you.

That was the crux of it all, wasn’t it? Sylvain wasn’t perfect, far from it, but he was far more than he thought of himself. He was strong and smart and caring and strangely considerate in ways people didn’t expect. He was the seductive dark heat of late summer nights, the cloying musky death and decay of autumn leaves beneath a crimson sun, and the destructive crackling blaze of a winter fire. To that, you were the cold shadow cast by a meek spring sun, a dotting of yellow headed weeds among a garden of gorgeous flowers.

And one day he’d realize he’d made a mistake. Was it worse to imagine having your heart broken by his honest and sharp tongue when that day came, or to be kept around out of his sense of duty or guilt? If you could believe that Sylvain cared for you now, that only meant that it would hurt both of you that much more later. The sour, disagreeable third child. Of all the things the seasons had changed, you’d never shed yourself of that title.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sylvain asked. His expression was wounded, an edge of defeat in his voice. Your shoulders tensed up, a knot forming in your throat. “You don’t believe me, do you. That’s… Well, I probably deserve that.” He sighed, a stressed sound. “Fine, I’ll prove it to you. I’ll show you that I’m serious this time, that I mean it. I’ll-”

“I do believe you,” you told him, cutting off whatever he was about to say. The water was dark, it’s inky surface winking with the faint hint of shimmering reflected light as it rushed past. You stared at it, trying to keep yourself under control. “I’m trying to do the right thing.”

“The right thing?” he asked flatly.

“I don’t want you to wake up and realize that you only cared for me because of the emotions of war, or because I’m convenient. I-I don’t want to be your mistake,” you said, practically glaring at the canal to remain steady. “I want you to be happy, and I… I don’t think that I can do that.”

“You already do,” Sylvain said.

That shocked you into meeting his gaze again, unable to find the words to respond. In the dark, the color of his eyes was lost. But his intensity was heavy and warm and as intoxicating as the liquor and you were drawn to it like nothing else in the world because the way he made you feel when he looked at you like that was incomparable. But you were just you. Awkward, strange, uncertain. Even unpleasant in so many ways. How could you truly believe you deserved to be looked at like that? Like you mattered.

“You’ll come back to Faerghus, won’t you?” Sylvain asked. “After you’re done here, I mean. His Majesty can’t ask you to stay in Enbarr forever, right?” Dimitri most certainly could ask that of you, although you knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if you wanted to return to Faerghus, Dimitri wouldn’t force you to stay. Sylvain didn’t seem to care about your answer, he likely knew it just as well as you did. “Right, so when things have calmed down here, you’ll come home,” Sylvain said, like that settled something.

Home. What did he think of as your home? The miserable cold estate of your father in Gautier territory? That no more sounded like home than Enbarr did. Perhaps you could continue work as an ambassador, or perhaps you would stay in the former Empire. Perhaps that would be better for everyone. Out of sight, out of-

“You will come back, won’t you?” Sylvain asked when you didn’t respond, his voice softer.

“Yes,” you said, unable to deny him that.

“Promise me something, then,” Sylvain said. “When you come back to Faerghus, you’ll give me a serious shot at proving to you how much I truly care about you.”

Your stomach turned over unhappily, nervously. What were you meant to feel about that request? Hope? Happiness? Guilt? Trepidation? In a way, you felt all of them at once, the sensation almost as overwhelming as the humidity. Once again, you wanted to say yes. You wanted to throw yourself into his arms and accept what would come of it.

The water rushed, bugs buzzing in the distance. You said nothing.

“C’mon, you wouldn’t wanna break my heart, would you?” Sylvain asked, his smile just about the only distinct thing you could make out in the dark.

“When I return...” you said slowly, considering it. What were the chances of that, you wondered? By the time you returned, the strange and faraway future, Sylvain would be Margrave Gautier. You couldn’t imagine him staying alone for long, not really. So it was a nice promise, pretty words, but no meaning. Just like beautiful, lovely, pretty, cute. Meaningless, without consequence. Another lovely thing to hold in your heart even when he’d forgotten all about you, a piece of treasure clutched in a dead man’s hand at the bottom of the ocean. “I promise.”

“Heh, you really know how to make a guy work for it,” Sylvain said, grinning like he’d won something. But it was just a casual, silly promise, nothing more. Even so. “It’s a promise, then.” He lifted the flask like a toast and took a hearty drink before passing it to you. It was almost like a kiss, your lips touching his by proxy. An innocent kiss, then, tasting of honeyed liquor and heat in your head and chest and head. A toast to a future you didn’t believe would come to pass. But you wished for it. You really did.

Autumn came later than it did in the north. Beginning with rippling waves of golden wheat and changing leaves, the infectious scent of fall harvest and drying earth greeted you each time you left the city. Not to be outdone, the vibrant infection of dying things and decaying earth crept into the streets of Enbarr, a velvety cloak fog sneaking into the streets. Fall hit Enbarr without the intense bite it had for Faerghus, which you couldn’t help but appreciate considering the amount of traveling your new position required of you.

It was difficult, you were hardly a politician, but you made it work. This was good. You needed to become strong. In a way, it was like setting a goal. You told yourself all the time that you could never be worthy of the promise Sylvain had made to you on that summer night, all the while working to become a woman who was. Strong. Beautiful. Self assured. Oh, you tried.

Sylvain wrote, occasionally. He told you that negotiations with Sreng were difficult. The leader of the country rightly had little trust for a place and people that had brutally annexed half of their land and only recently emerged from a terrible war. Oddly, being the victors made the position even more precarious, especially with the militantly nationalistic values the Chruch of Seiros had instilled within Fódlan for so long. Certain countries were willing to make alliances out of the fear, but others doubled down because of their worries that Fódlan could so easily ruin them.

Sylvain made no acknowledgment of romance or your promise, but there was something. The scent of his cologne that found its way into every envelope. The casual, loopy lattice of his handwriting. And the way he signed each letter, words you kept locked up tight in your heart. With love, Sylvain Jose Gautier. Forever yours, Sylvain Jose Gautier. Affectionately, Sylvain Jose Gautier.

You scorned yourself for the hope you felt. But you couldn’t quite kill it, either. /

Winter in the former Empire was as mild as the fall, all things considered. You didn’t even see snow until you ventured up into the former Arundel territory. Sylvain wrote less often. He must have been frightfully busy. Not to mention the difficulty of getting the post in or out of the snow-thick Faerghus. You tried not to take it personally.

Sylvain said, the weather there is probably nicer than here, it feels like I’m always cold these days. Cold and busy. Sylvain said, of course, it would be better if I could bask in the warmth of your smile. Sylvain said, Dimitri has decided to pick up the tradition of winter celebrations in Fhirdiad, any chance you’ll be there? Signed, Your devoted and freezing, Sylvain Jose Gautier.

You told him that you couldn’t. The nobles in the Empire were ready to crack at any moment, even a few weeks away would surely shatter the whole thing. Maybe next year.

Maybe. The word tasted like hope when you said it and you tried to keep your expectations in check.

Winter became spring became summer. Sylvain hardly ever wrote throughout the changing seasons, but neither did you. Too busy, too distracted, too forgetful, too frightened of rejection. Whenever you put the pen to paper, you found that all you could write was that you missed him. So much that it had become a terrible ache. Was that too selfish of you? Too terrible? You wondered if he had found a new love yet, if he thought of you. You wondered if he missed you, if he thought about you as often as you did him. You closed your eyes and pressed your nose to the heavy parchment that smelled of Sylvain’s cologne and dried ink and expensive paper and pretended for a moment longer that you could return to Faerghus as a woman who deserved to be at his side, that he would have you.

Autumn came again, the musty warm scent of sunshine on crispy yellow and red piles of leaves and sweet musk of death. The former Empire was finally becoming stable enough to free you from its clutches, the lords kept in check under Dimitri’s reign. Perhaps you would serve as an ambassador after all, Dimitri seemed willing to entertain the idea.

Winter descended a mild grip, bestowing a chilly kiss onto the city of Enbarr. No teeth, no cruelty. No snow. Although it was possibly one of the worst seasons to trek up north, you knew it was time to return. You had said maybe, but this was the goal you’d been building yourself towards all this time. You looked in the mirror and told yourself that you had changed throughout the year. No longer the disagreeable, antisocial child you had been. Even if Sylvain had forgotten his promise, even if he no longer cared.

Even so, even so.

The day had been short, shorter than most that you had spent in the mild climate of Enbarr. Comparatively, winter days in Fhirdiad were fleeting and freezing, the sun coming out just in time to wave goodbye. So many things had changed in the year and a half that you’d been away. Faerghus was a different beast entirely from the barren wasteland it had been. Trade routes had been established, relations between the former Alliance and Empire strengthened, and a certain feeling of life returned to the citizens. Fhirdiad was hardly recognizable, decked out in lights and wreaths in honor of the winter celebrations they were so fond of. Clean streets, rosy cheeks, playing children —you could barely reconcile the image of the city as it had been with the place that greeted you.

You had changed, too. Stronger, smarter, you had more perspective about the world. More confidence, maybe. Hopefully. By the goddess you hoped.

Many things hadn’t changed, however.

Until you were certain of your position and had a place to live, you’d taken a room in an Inn near the palace in Fhirdiad. It was cold and unornamented, such a stark contrast to the decadent rooms you’d taken in Enbarr. One thing you were at least somewhat certain of was that you hadn’t told anyone where you were staying. Despite that, barely an hour after you arrived, Annette and Mercedes towed an unenthusiastic Ingrid to your door. To get ready for the ball, they said, acting as if no time at all had passed.

With them, you didn’t feel as strong a need to prove yourself or the way you’d changed, the growth you’d achieved. They were quite unlike the sisters you’d grown up with, warm and kind and energetic. All the while tripping over themselves to inform you of everything you’d missed in the time you’d been gone, Annette and Mercedes styled you like a doll. “Ooo, you should wear your hair down like this,” Annette said, arranging your hair around your shoulders helpfully. “And I’ve got this shimmery eye pallet that will look great on you.” Mercedes dug through your luggage to find one of the many fancy dresses you’d acquired while living in the former Empire. “I think this dress matches the theme, don’t you think, Annie?” she asked. Surprisingly, even Ingrid joined in. Her hair was still short, but she applied makeup and donned a dress that showed an impressive amount of shoulder. Still, she rejected the lipstick Mercedes offered, saying that there would be sausages at the party and it’d get everywhere.

None of them mentioned Sylvain. You didn’t ask. It was nice to be around them again, to simply bask in their company. Making friends in Enbarr hadn’t been an option when so much of the court would have gladly seen you dead. Odd, you hadn’t realized how lonely you’d been.

By the end of it all, you couldn’t help but feel a bit vain. Yes, you had changed quite a bit. Where you had been a scrawny and awkward girl hovering between stages of life during the war, you were now truly a woman. Elegant and graceful. Peace had allowed your hair and skin to finally shine, given the proper attention that long war campaigns had denied. No longer living on rations and training constantly, your body was softer than it had ever been, filling out the dress. You put on a practiced smile and stood up straight and told yourself that it was natural, that this was who you wanted to be.

Snow drifted down in lackadaisical twirls when the four of you entered the royal palace ballroom. It was a place you’d only seen once, when Dimitri took the throne. You had strong memories of that night, ones that made your stomach dip and churn with anxiety. And excitement.

After being relieved of your cloaks and announced, you paused to take it all in. Built in much the same fashion as other Faerghus structures, there was a harsh, utilitarian cut to the grand palace ballroom. The low ceilings lent a bunker-like quality to the place, although you wouldn’t call it cramped, either. Everything was cut with sharp angles and little detailing. Most of the stone was smoothed and finished but not colored or altered. Despite the relative simplicity, the floor plan was expansive, giving the party goers more than enough space to spread out into the various nooks and alcoves. The dance floor, a rather new addition, was set on a platform on the far end, the band set up on a slightly higher platform beside it. Tiles on the floor were what truly denoted the inherent wealth and style of royalty. The Crest of Blaiddyd was the largest, patterned across the dance floor, but the major noble Crests from Faerghus were printed in other important spaces. It couldn’t be seen from the entryway, but a sequence of stained glass panels representing Loog’s war for independence was set behind the King’s table.

Ingrid broke off from the four of you, ostensibly in search of the buffet, but Annette took your arm. “We should go see His Majesty first! I’m sure he’ll be super excited to see you again.”

“Annie,” Mercedes chided. “I’m sure there are many people she’d like to see.”

“No, I’d love to see Dimitri again,” you said with a smile that felt somewhat weak. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to see Sylvain, if you were ready for that. At the same time, you felt like you couldn’t wait.

King Dimitri was easy to find. He cut a grand figure in his royal ensemble, mingling among the people with a genuine smile. His confidence in the role of king had clearly grown, his movements as easy in his gala finery as they were in armor, not to mention the way he interacted with people lacking the awkwardness you were used to.

He smiled and greeted you, even kissing your hand, and it was utterly genuine. Dimitri was as polite and kind as you remembered, but it was wrong. He looked at you and that blue eye didn’t linger or seem surprised, he saw no difference between the woman who stood in front of him and the nervous, awkward girl he’d celebrated with after the war. Only a year and a half had passed, but still.

“You’re here to stay, then?” Dimitri asked. You smiled, but it was strained. To stay in Faerghus, yes, that had been your plan. But why? To do what? You realized right then how silly it was to be wearing a face full of makeup and a gown, like you were playing an odd game of pretend. You wanted to be validated, to prove to them all how you’d grown. That you were worth something now.

“I am.”

“I’m interested to hear everything about the situation in Enbarr,” Dimitri said enthusiastically. His eye flicked behind you, a new group of people hoping to meet the celebrity Savior King. “Er, later, if that’s alright with you.”

“Yes, of course,” you responded. “Later.”

He shot you an apologetic smile as he bowed out.

You turned back to scan the ballroom and you told yourself that you weren’t specifically looking for a dash of bright red among the muted wintery colors because that felt an awful lot like hope. And that was silly. You had grown, you had changed. Childish promises were hardly a concern of yours, now. When disappointment struck your chest at the absence, you ignored it.

Instead, you set to work trying to find where Mercedes and Annette had disappeared to. Before you could stray too far, a familiar soft voice called your name. Mercedes stood beside the hulking figure of Dedue. “I was just telling him that you came!” she said, smiling.

“It seems that everyone is here,” Dedue noted. “I’m… Glad to see you again.” He bowed, stiff and polite. It didn’t necessarily shock you that he would regard you in the same way as he always did. Straightforward and famously terse.

“Dedue just got back, too,” Mercedes said.

“From where?” you asked.

“I was in Duscur,” Dedue said.

At your confusion, Mercedes added, “After Dedue left Dimitri’s service, he and I have been working on opening a school for the children of Duscur.”

“Yes, it is a difficult project, but a worthwhile endeavor,” Dedue said, wearing a small smile as he looked down at her. A private look that you didn’t quite grasp. “In any case, a great many things have changed while you were away. It must be shocking.”

“A bit,” you said vaguely, surprised by their behavior. Caught off guard. Awkward. “I’m going to go get a drink.”

“Of course, we’ll catch up with you later!” Mercedes said.

Drifting over to the buffet table, you saw that Ingrid was right about the sausages. The spread was quite grand, but you’d grown used to such foods by spending so much time in Enbarr. Maybe a little spoiled, as you couldn’t help but note that many dishes were missing. But your stomach was far too nervous to eat anyway, so you accepted a flute of bubbly champagne, sipping at it as you made your way around.

People looked at you, watched you, but none of it was quite like you wanted. Did they see you because of the way you looked, the ways you’d changed, or did they view you as an awkward introvert pretending at being a lady? Which, you wondered.

You saw Ashe at just about the same time that he saw you, your eyes locking and his face immediately breaking out in a smile. “I heard you were here!” he said enthusiastically. He didn’t look older, not really. His hair was a little longer, but that was it. It was the same Ashe who had taught you the names of all the flowers in the greenhouse greeting you with the same smile he always had.

You smiled and nodded, unable to think of any more elegant greeting.

“It’s great to see you again,” Ashe said. So genuine, it made you feel bad for being so bitter. “I wish I had more time, but-” His eyes danced around the crowd, looking for something. Or someone. “I brought my younger brother along to introduce him to everyone, but I’ve no idea where he might have gone.”

“Do you need help looking?” you asked, the words more polite than anything.

“No, thank you. I can manage,” Ashe said gratefully. “I can’t wait for us all to catch up.”

“Me neither.” Your smile was thin because you knew he certainly didn’t see you any differently. And you weren’t sure what it was that you expected, that you wanted. Only that the absence made you feel a bit hollow, like you wanted to retreat to the shadows and hide.

You found Felix by acting on that impulse. He stood by the wall, on the fringe of the crowd with a slightly annoyed look about him. He didn’t wear the current style of laid back formal wear with a militaristic edge, but a cape and coat and boots. They were fine and well maintained, of course, but little more could be said for the look. Despite that, Felix had a way of standing out, his narrowed eyes watching the crowd like he expected something to happen. Or maybe that was just a vain hope. “So you are back,” he said, turning to acknowledge your presence. His expression didn’t change, but his voice wasn’t exactly cold, either. You’d always felt a certain sort of understanding towards Felix. But that was probably why the two of you had never become very close, either.

“Try not to look too excited. I might get the wrong impression,” you told him, the vaguely clever retort coming out in a practiced way after the words had been properly arranged in your head. That made him smile. But there was no other reaction, no indication that he noticed the way you’d changed or the way you looked.

The previous song ended with a flourish, the next one picking up right on its tail. Laughter buzzed around the expansive room, conversation and heat filling the space.

“Do you need something?” Felix asked. He didn’t sound frustrated, more distracted.

“No,” you said. “Actually, have you seen Sylvain around?” you asked. And you tried to keep your voice casual, but something kind of cracked towards the end and you could hear the naked want in your voice which was all kinds of pathetic.

“No, I haven’t,” Felix said, seemingly blind to your slipup. Right. Felix wouldn’t notice that sort of thing.

“Is he with someone?” you asked.

Felix snorted. “I don’t know. Or care, for that matter. Why don’t you ask him?”

“If I could find him, maybe,” you muttered softly, although you knew the words were more of a cover for your nerves than anything. “What about you”

“What about me?”

“Are you seeing anyone?”

Felix eyed you for a second, his narrowed gaze unnervingly piercing. “Why?”

“Isn’t that what people normally ask their friends after having been away?”

“Probably,” Felix responded with a nod of understanding, but he didn’t answer.

“Right,” you eventually said, more to ease your awkwardness than anything. The person you wanted to be probably could have conjured up some way to draw Felix out of his shell, but you had no idea.

Instead, you bid him a farewell and ducked out. It was all so very anticlimactic. You’d been dreaming of the moment you’d return to court, confident and beautiful and desirable. But nobody looked at you like you wanted to be looked at, appraising you like you were worth admiring. It was like nothing had changed and that should have been comforting, but instead it just made you feel oddly weak. If you hadn’t changed in the way you thought you had, that took away the lie you’d told yourself so you didn’t feel so silly, the lie that you weren’t doing this for him. That you hadn’t returned because you were following the sweet trail of a promise made in the heady aftermath of battle and victory by tongues loosened with alcohol and intimacy ignited by the wild cocoon of a late summer night.

You wanted to be beautiful, but that wasn’t it. You wanted to be seen as beautiful. And worthy. Throughout the war, you had all remained in a half state of adulthood. Undeveloped and held back from moving forward until the war was over. That was why you had been unable to accept his proposal. One day he’d lose that mischievous affection in his eyes and you’d be left gutted and hollow and cheap. He’d realize you weren’t enough and leave you like a broken and useless toy. And things hadn’t really changed, not in the way you wanted them to have changed.

It felt like failure. Deciding to get some wintery air to calm yourself down, you abandoned your glass and reclaimed your cloak to wander outside into the garden. Most people opted to stay inside, but the weather wasn’t unmanageably cold. The tall stone walls kept the wind at bay, and the temperature wasn’t really so bad considering the heating artifices that had been set up in intervals along the paving stone walkways. You put up your hood to defend against the faint fog of the lazy snow. Mostly, though, you were just amazed by the sight that greeted you.

No flowers were cultivated at this time of year, most of Faerghus was killed by the brutal weather. To replace them, the garden was decorated with elaborate ice sculptures. Art was as rare in Faerghus as flowers were, making the sight a genuine surprise, but not an unwelcome one. It drew you out of your poor mood, giving you a much needed distraction.

Some of them depicted familiar scenes, frozen tableaus made to reflect scenes of scripture or history. Not just Faerghus history, either. All three nations were given spotlights among the icy sentinels.

The most interesting one, to you, was the ice Dimitri, standing double the height of the man himself with Areadbhar at the ready. Byleth had received similar treatment, the Sword of the Creator held high to fall on whichever unlucky individual happened to be beneath it. You wondered what the pair thought of such treatment, such deification. Either way, the sculptures were nothing short of breathtaking.

The arrival of a group of people urged you onwards, deeper into the frozen wonderland of stone and ice. It was colder as you got further away from the main plaza, the main sculptures grouped where they could be seen and admired. Darker, too, colors fading as if you were walking beyond the clustered beating heart of the celebration and into something else. Something eerie. You’d been too lost in empty ponderance to notice how far you’d walked. There weren’t any sculptures here, just ice molded into shapes to replace the empty flower beds, regular stone statues posed amidst the path. Just as you were about to turn around, the dark spoke.

“Do my eyes deceive me, or is that really you?”

Recognition hit you instantly like a sharp flash of late summer lightning. Even muffled through the wool of your cape’s hood, you knew exactly who that voice belonged to. Despite that, you had to turn around to be sure. Just in case. No matter how much you doubted yourself, Sylvain Jose Gautier himself stood behind you, wrapped up in a dark cloak that allowed him to nearly fade into the shadows. Only his face, as pale as you remembered, stood out in the magic light. He was smiling, shadows cast beneath his arched eyebrows and high cheekbones, his red hair both unruly and stylish at the same time. Although the finer details were lost between the darkness and distances, you were more than aware that your memories didn’t at all do him justice.

“It’s you,” you said, unable to think of anything more articulate. Even with as much as you’d anticipated this moment, you hadn’t planned for it, not like this. Actually, you weren’t even sure what you had planned for.

“Uh, yeah,” Sylvain said after a beat, grinning. “I hope you weren’t expecting someone else.”

“I wasn’t,” you said quickly. “You surprised me.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he said. “I’d have thought of a better ice breaker, but I wouldn’t want any of the mages to get mad at me for ruining their hard work.”

It was almost surreal. He was the same as he had been. The line was stupid, but it worked, it made your chest ache.

“Okay, I know. That one was terrible,” Sylvain said with a rueful laugh when you didn’t answer, scratching the back of his head. “Guess it’s kinda an off day for me… I didn’t know you’d be here. I mean, I heard that you were, but I wasn’t sure. Especially since it was so hard to find you.”

“Sorry.”

“Hey, I’m not complaining,” Sylvain said. “In fact, I’m overjoyed. Although… I’d be happier if I could actually see your face. Don’t get me wrong, I love a bit of mystery, but I appreciate beauty much more.”

It took a moment to register what he meant, but eventually, it dawned on you that with the only light at your back and your hood up, your face was probably entirely obscured. “Right,” you said. It wasn’t exactly the grand reveal you hoped for, but it was still something. You pulled down your hood in a way you hoped didn’t mess up your hair. Trying to remain somewhat surreptitious about it, you turned slightly, enough to catch the light better. The air was colder without the buffer of the wool, but you didn’t exactly mind it.

“Wow,” Sylvain said, his voice soft, surprised. “You look beautiful.” He looked at you in the way none of the others had, his breathy voice quiet and expression stunned. Not in the artificial way of his flirtations, but something honest and fascinated. A moment later, as if coming to his senses, Sylvain’s awe turned awkward. “What I mean is that you look stunning tonight. Not to say that you never looked nice before! ‘Cause you did, er, do. You’ve always looked beautiful, but this is different. Good different.”

“Thank you,” you said, unable to keep from the spread of a slow smile across your face, a giddy feeling making your heart jump. Nerves, doubt too. But it wasn’t so bad.

“No, really,” Sylvain insisted, his expression earnest. “I almost feel bad for the mages who set this all up. Your mere presence completely devalues any piece of art. How could anybody admire something else when you’re around?”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you said after a moment of consideration, trying to deliver the line in a properly playful way. It must have worked, because Sylvain’s face broke out into another wide grin.

“You think so?” he asked. “‘Cause if you do, maybe you’ll do me the honor of touring this little exhibition together?” Sylvain held out his arm, one of his eyebrows quirked hopefully.

“I would,” you said, jumping at the chance to give such an easily presented answer and taking his proffered arm before you could talk yourself down.

“By the way, how’d you wind up all the way down here?” he asked as the two of you retraced your way back to the main plaza.

“I guess I was distracted,” you told him, trying your very best to keep your gait normal and not look at him. It hardly made a difference. Standing so close, you could smell the wool and tanned hide of his fur trimmed cape, the deeper musk of his clothes and the body beneath them, the leather polish of his gloves. It was intimate in a quiet, still way.

“That’s it?” Sylvain pushed, expectant.

You tried to figure out what that might be before giving up. “What do you mean?”

“Huh? Oh, nothing,” he said. “I guess that part of you hasn’t changed.” Sylvain seemed pleased with that observation, but you weren’t. He was right, it was just like you to get wrapped up in your desire to isolate and your own thoughts and feelings. To isolate yourself.

Brushing past other couples, you and Sylvain walked and admired sculptures depicting Sothis creating the Fódlan. Serios with her sword held high, her hair and dress picked up by an unseen breeze. The Four Saints. Nemesis, the King of Liberation.

All the while, Sylvain was looking at you. The feeling was heavy even as you tried to avert your eyes onto the shining sculptures. They were marvels, genuinely, but you could barely see them for as hard as you were staring.

“Is everything all right?” you finally asked, meeting Sylvain’s eyes nervously. As much as you had craved it, you had been avoiding his gaze.

“Yeah, of course. It’s just… It seems like a waste to keep you out here all alone where nobody can admire you,” he said. “Then again, that makes me pretty lucky, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose,” you said slowly, “it depends on how you define luck,”

“Running into you?” Sylvain said. “I’d say that’s very lucky. Some might even say it’s fate.”

“That’s silly.”

“You don’t believe in fate?”

“No more than you do.”

“If it’s not fate, how is it that I seem to constantly run into you like this?” Sylvain asked, his voice and smile playful. “Face it, we’re fated to be together.”

You didn’t respond to that, trying to gauge how serious he was and coming up short of anything other than conflicted confusion.

“By the way,” Sylvain said after a moment passed, “what are you doing out here? You couldn’t have gotten dressed up like this just to admire the scenery all by yourself.”

“I was inside for a while,” you told him. “I said hello to everybody.”

“Except me.”

Did he sound a bit hurt? He was smiling, but there was an edge to his voice. “I couldn’t find you.”

“Really? Then you couldn’t have been in there very long. Are you sure that’s it?” Sylvain pushed suggestively. “You didn’t come out here to, I dunno, meet someone?”

“Obviously not,” you said carefully, holding just a bit more tightly to his arm. Not clinging, you didn’t want to think of yourself as clinging. “I’m known to be unfriendly and antisocial, it would be more out of character if I didn’t run away and hide.”

“I don’t think you’re that bad,” Sylvain said, either not picking up on your self deprecating tone or ignoring it. “Felix definitely has you beat in that regard. He’s completely hopeless.”

“If he wore a dress you wouldn’t think I was any better,” you responded, making a valiant attempt at teasing him to avoid giving in to your self pity.

It worked. Sylvain looked down at you like he was shocked, at a loss for words. “You have changed,” he said dramatically. “Ouch. You leave for a year and suddenly you know just where to hit me where it hurts. Did Ingrid tell you about that?”

“I’m just saying,” you said, skirting around that question, “that you’re biased when it comes to girls. And other feminine individuals.”

“Well, maybe,” Sylvain allowed. “But not about you. I pride myself on having enough personal experience to know firsthand how cute and charming you can be.”

“What is strange,” you said, forcing the conversation onward to ignore the way he made your stomach buzz with thousands of little butterfly wings, “is that you’re out here. Unless you’re meeting someone.”

“I was,” Sylvain said, “but I already found the girl I was looking for,”

You didn’t know what to say to that, all of your quips and clever retorts running dry, a dizzy intoxicated sort of feeling rising up into your head. Rather than answer, you pretended to be very interested in a sculpture of an eagle. It stared down at you with beady and judgmental icy eyes, it’s wings folded and posture regal.

“Anyway,” Sylvain continued, “I’ve heard that you’re in Faerghus to stay.”

“Yeah, I guess I am,” you responded.

“You know, I was prepared to wait way longer,” Sylvain casually noted as you continued down the line of sculptures to a lion cast in ice, his mouth forever fixed in an intimidating roar. “I had an image in my head of how I’d try to woo you as an old man. I figure that I’ll be one of those graceful old grandpas who uses a fancy walking stick and everything. Obviously, you’ll age very gracefully. Probably would have had to get the ring resized for your old lady hand, though.”

Your heart thumped, the palpitation hard enough to make your head spin.

“Um… What?” you asked in a faint voice, your arm going limp and releasing his as you stopped in your tracks. Sylvain hesitated, his feet brushing against the stone as he half turned towards you.

“Don’t you remember?” Sylvain asked, confused. “The night that the war ended, we made a promise.”

“I remember,” you said, swallowing down a lump in your throat.

“Great! So, uh, where do you think I should begin?”

“Begin what?” you asked dumbly.

His eyes narrowed, a frustrated glare that accused you of being purposefully obstinate. “Wooing you? Y’know, proving the extent of my undying love and all that.”

“Oh, that,” you said, your stomach dropping and a cold breath catching in your throat.

“Yeah, that,” he echoed, his confidence fading a bit. “If this your way of politely rejecting me, it’s okay to just say it outright. I’m a big boy, I can handle it.”

Winter’s unyielding touch pierced the bubble created by walls and warmth, a draft of cold air teasing your hair, slipping beneath your cloak and making you shiver. Snowflakes settled in Sylvain’s messy hair, sparkling as they caught the light.

“I don’t have anything to offer you, Sylvain,” you told him after it passed, your eyes flicking away from his to stare hard at the lion’s icy maw to keep your eyes from stinging. “I thought that if I took some time and tried, I could. I wanted to, but coming back here and everything… I am what I am.”

“And I wouldn't want you to be any different,” Sylvain said. From your periphery, you could see that he was frowning, his brow furrowed in concern. “What do you think you don’t have that I want… Or.. Or expect? I don’t mean to be crude, but I could get almost any girl I wanted. At the very least, she’d be compelled to marry me because of my-”

“Crest and title,” you filled in, your voice flat.

His lips quirked up like that was a funny thing to say, but his eyes didn’t change. “Yeah, that. I mean, that’s how it is, right? That’s the person I’ve always been told I was. The fate I accepted. Until I met you. You showed me that I can be more than that. And this past year…” He laughed dryly, a gloved hand brushing the snow from his hair nervously. “Well, to be honest, it’s been pretty miserable. But it made me think even harder about myself and about what I wanted. I’ve made my choice.”

“And what’s that?” you asked. And you knew what he meant but that knowledge was unbearably presumptuous, something you could hardly let yourself dream, let alone be given in real life. So you asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Sylvain asked, “You.”

Dizzy and cold, you probably could have been knocked over by a particularly stiff breeze. “Me,” you said softly. Not a question, just an attempt to taste the word, to understand it. He didn’t even hear you.

“But…” Sylvain continued before stopping himself. He sighed, shook his head. “Now don’t get me wrong, I love the chase, but I’ll give it up if you tell me right now that you don’t want me. I can accept that. However, if there’s even the slightest chance that I can convince you that I truly, genuinely want to be with you, I’ll do anything.”

“I’m not worth all that,” you said, but your voice was hushed and cramped by your swollen throat, spoken to the ground because you couldn’t look at Sylvain and admit that. Not directly. Couldn’t he tell? Beneath the makeup and hair and dress and all of the things you’d done to grow, you were still the pathetic slip of a girl he found in that greenhouse. The same nothing girl you’d been your entire life.

“What?” he asked, taking a step towards you.

You looked up, daring to meet his dark eyes. The words hurt to say. Icicles piercing between your ribs. But you did. “I don’t deserve you.”

“You don’t deserve me?” Sylvain asked slowly, emphasizing the words as if to make sense of them. You could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he considered you, picking you apart with that too-keen gaze. “So all of this, the way you’ve been acting… I think I’m starting to get it. You think that you’re not enough… For me.” After saying that aloud, Sylvain laughed another humorless laugh. “Why, what makes me different?”

“Everything,” you said, speaking at a nearly inaudible hush because you didn’t trust your voice. “You’re my first friend, the only person who’s ever made me feel like I mattered. I couldn’t bear to ruin this because I…” Words weren’t your forte, they never had been. You knew that, he knew it. But you swallowed against your dry mouth so they could come out all the same, the warmth of your breath fading into the cold and carried away by the wintery air to the heavens above. “I love you.”

Sylvain didn’t react at first, staring at you in shock. Finally, just when the tension was ready to kill you, words emerged from his parted lips. “You…me…I...” He paused, then shook his head as if to clear it, to focus. “Come again?”

“I love you,” you repeated, the words coming louder now that they’d already been exposed, brittle in your mouth.

“Right…” He blinked once. Twice. “Do you remember earlier when I said that you were less hopeless than Felix?” Sylvain asked.

You nodded.

“I take it back.”

You purposefully fixed your gaze at the frosted ground with some mixture of embarrassment and nerves. Regret, too, it was tangy in your lungs. As it happened so often, you found yourself without anything to say. What were you supposed to say now that all of your damning insecurities were out in the dark winter cold? His tone was semi-playful with that last remark, but it was true. You were hopeless, you hadn’t really changed at all and now you felt like you were going to cry. Right here, in front of him, running your makeup, ruining the night-

Refusing to allow you to sink back into your own head, Sylvain grabbed your hands. Both gloved, his in leather and yours in silk. Despite that, you could feel the firmness of his grasp, remember the way his skin was calloused and rough against your own. You looked up to meet his eyes on instinct, confused and surprised by the easy way he touched you. But not displeased, not enough to shake off his grasp.

“I couldn’t bear to see you change,” Sylvain told you emphatically, his dark eyes serious and eyebrows raised. “Sure you’re a little weird sometimes and I can’t say that I always understand what you’re thinking, but I like that. I like the way that you listen to what I have to say and the way you try to understand me. Me, not my Crest or title or whatever. I like the way you smile and the playful look in your eyes when you say something clever. You’re intelligent and supportive and kind.” The words had an odd rhythm to them, like they had been practiced before but Sylvain couldn’t quite dole them out in the measured way in which they’d been composed. Each one was caressed by his voice before puffing out in a little cloud in front of his red lips, accentuated by the pleading, vulnerable cast of his eyes on yours. “I like you…” he told you, his fingers tightening around yours. “No, I love you. And if you’ll have me, I’ll prove it to you. I’ll show you how wonderful I think you are. I’ve thought up a few pretty compelling ways in this past year.”

From an outside perspective, you could imagine that you were standing as still as the lion made of ice. Rigid, your eyes wide, your lips slightly parted as if to make way for words you weren’t able to speak. In your own head, however, you just felt dizzy. Aware of the cold biting the tip of your nose and freezing your feet in their brand new fancy shoes. Your breath was held as if to retain Sylvain’s impromptu speech for a moment longer, as if you could parse out the meaning of his words just from keeping them in.

“Uh…” he finally said, frowning. “Are you okay? Maybe that was too much...”

“No!” you said, the word finally breaking through the barrier of your mind to your lips before you could rethink it. Too loud. You flinched, clearing your throat to more easily manage your voice. “N-not too much.”

Sylvain waited expectantly for more. But there wasn’t more. What were you supposed to say? How were you supposed to offer him something even halfway comparable to that confession?

“Should I give you some space?” Sylvain asked, his grip loosening around your hands.

You panicked, holding onto him tighter. “No, it’s okay. I’m sorry. I’m trying to… I mean, I… I don’t know what to say.”

Slowly, hopefully, a smile tugged at the edges of Sylvain’s mouth. “Have I ever mentioned how cute you are when you’re flustered?” He seemed to ponder that for a second before adding, “Strike that, you’re always cute.” Another beat passed and his expression sobered. “And I’m sorry I wasn’t able to show you how wonderful you are before you decided that you’re not.”

“Don’t say that,” you told him.

He frowned, but nodded. “You’re right. All I can do now is spend the rest of my life making it up to you…. If you’ll have me, that is.”

“Sylvain,” you said carefully, trying to keep your voice even so it didn’t slip away from you. “Is this a proposal?”

“Huh, well, I guess it kinda is...” He frowned. “I hate to say it but I’m completely underprepared for this. I haven’t really asked your father and I don’t even have the ring on me, also, I was envisioning more flowers. But…” He paused to compose himself before nodding resolutely. “Yes, this is me proposing marriage to you. I’d be the luckiest guy in the world if I could spend the rest of my life with you by my side.”

Like sugar in tea, everything that had been holding you back from accepting him was dissolved away. All the reasons you’d clung to so you could justify your cowardice and insecurities were dwarfed by what Sylvain was offering. Because you were weak, because you couldn’t hold onto the martyr mentality anymore. Not like this. “Okay,” you said. It was barely more than a whisper because you could feel the tears coming back, making your throat tight.

“Okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” you clarified, just a bit louder. “I’m sorry I made you wait.”

Sylvain smiled. It was a look you knew well, one that you had treasured since the first time you saw it. He grinned and looked at you like you were worth wanting, worth caring about. Like he’d won something grand. “You’re a girl well worth waiting for,” he told you. “Although, we do have some things to make up for. I guess we’ve got time for that, though.”

Time to make up for the seasons apart. The thought alone made you feel giddy. Overwhelmed. Like this was a dream. Maybe it was, although you couldn’t say you minded the idea too much, assuming you never had to wake up.

“Is that a promise?” you asked.

Sylvain pulled you in closer. He was warm despite the cold, he smelled good even though your nose was a bit stuffy from the tears and chill. “You’re the only girl I’ll ever want, the only girl worth looking at. I swear my heart to you.”

You blushed, looking away. “That’s-”

“Too flowery?” he butted in nervously. “Sorry, force of habit.”

“I don’t mind it,” you told him slowly, honestly. “Even though it’s embarrassing. Maybe you don’t remember but the first time we met, you told me that if we were flowers-”

“We’d have a budding romance,” he said with a wry smile. “That was bad, I know.”

“It worked,” you said. “I never told you, but it did.”

“Really?” Sylvain’s eyes widened. “I thought you hated me for the longest time.”

“Never.”

“Even when I kissed you?” he asked. “You avoided me for a while after that, I was worried I had scared you away.”

“I didn’t want you to think that I felt like you owed me something for a mistake.”

“A mistake,” Sylvain repeated, his voice twisting the idea into something ridiculous. His leather-clad hand reached up to cradle your cheek, pulling your eyes up to meet his. Playful, dancing in the dim light. “Fine, what if I kissed you now?”

Your eyes widened, flicking down to his smiling mouth. Wide, full bottom lip, constantly on the verge of a half-smirk. Sylvain was so close, it would be very easy for him to close the distance between the two of you. “If you want,” you said. His thumb brushed across your lip, making you shiver in a way that had nothing to do with the cold. “Yes.”

It had been winter when he first kissed you. Now it was winter again and the air was cold but Sylvain’s mouth was hot, his arms wrapping you up in a scorching embrace. Whatever else you were, in that moment, you could believe that you weren’t alone. You could believe that you —nothing little you— were wanted in the only way you’d ever wished to be wanted. As yourself, as someone worth loving, a girl worth caring about. Beautiful, not in the transient way you’d always feared.

The two of you parted and your breath was quick and warm as you tried to steady it, your pulse racing. “I love you,” you murmured quietly, your eyes closed. Finally, those words felt comfortable in your mouth, like they had a right to be spoken. Sylvain laughed breathlessly, delighted, his arms still wrapped around you.

“I don’t think you have any idea how happy it makes me to hear that,” he said. “Beyond happy, actually. I didn’t think this was possible.”

“You make me happy, too,” you told him, peeking through your eyelashes to meet his eyes. Warm. Tender. Excited.

“When you smile at me like that… You know, I don’t think there’s a single more beautiful sight in the world,” Sylvain said in an unfamiliarly soft voice, his dark eyes adoring. “It almost makes me not want to share you with anyone else. What do you think about eloping?”

“Eloping?” you repeated, caught off guard.

“Yeah. Right now, tonight,” he said. “I’m sure we could find someone…”

“You’re that impatient?” you asked, halfway questioning the playful intent behind the suggestion.

“You did keep me waiting for around, what, five hundred days, give or take? It’s romantic to act with such passionate abandon.” Sylvain paused, a wicked smirk twisting up the corner of his mouth. “If we stay here too long, I might feel inclined to want you to dance with me...”

“No.”

“Not even if I ask nicely?” Sylvain asked. Although his voice was innocent enough, the way he’d raised an eyebrow and suggestively licked his lips oozed bad intent. And desire. For you. The thought was as potent as any liquor you’d ever tasted.

“No,” you repeated, your voice less firm.

“So there’s no chance I can persuade you?” he asked, leaning closer.

You opened your mouth to refuse before rethinking it, your stomach tied up in a dozen wonderful, unknown sorts of knots. “You could try.”

#sylvain jose gautier #fe sylvain #sylvain jose gautier x reader #fe sylvain x reader #FE3H #fire emblem three houses #my writing #this is just PURE cringe #i wanted to try something different dynamic-wise #i HOPE it came across well #but really this is just a reflection of my abysmal self esteem #also i'm sorry editing wise i kinda am over it

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