INTRO: independent ling yao blog from full metal alchemist // semi-selective and semi-exclusive // open to canon characters and OCs // au and multi-verse friendly!
EXPLORATION OF: what it means to be in the spotlight, survival, the finer things in life, blood & gold, coming of age, finding beauty in the world, running away from the past, what does it take to lead something?
AFFILIATES: @redemptioninterlude
TRIGGERS: this blog includes potentially triggering topics of abuse, substance use, mental illness, violence, etc. please read carrd before interacting!!
MUN: kay, 35, they/them, PST, artist, and a proud parent of 16 plants.
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every time i see rue's face, i get sadder and sadder.
and i think about how ling would react to rue's death, i can't really articulate how that would crush him, how that would change him. i'm so glad i don't have to find out.
so I'm breaking my long-ass hiatus to talk about the season finale of Euphoria and how much i hated it.
obviously spoilers ahead
I'm mostly going to be talking about rue's death, which I have vented about endlessly with @redemptioninterlude.
rue's death was a waste. there- i'm going to say it. it was unwarranted. it was bad writing. it was a waste of potential in a character that deserved more. what i absolutely loved about the first seasons, despite some of their other issues, is the nuanced conversation about addiction, and humanizing the experience. i see rue in a lot of my family members who struggle with addiction, their loss of hope and their self-worth.
when i was watching rue's death, i was remembering the scene of her and fezco, as rue talks about how she doesn't think she's going to be around for very long. she says these awful things about herself all the time, she seeks love in all the wrong things, in all the wrong people, because she's trying to fill a void of grief and loss over her father's death, and also grappling with her own mental health.
but in season 3? NONE of that was addressed. there was no big conversation around addiction until ali made his appearance in the later episodes. rue wasn't even actively using as much as she did in the first two seasons. sam wrote it like a shitty cowboy modern western, a bastardized version of tarantino's work. sure, someone could say that this is the reality of addiction, and they'd probably be right. sometimes, people are lost forever. that is the harsh reality of addiction, especially now when everything is laced with fentanyl.
but rue didn't deserve that ending. she didn't deserve any of that.
i think about an interview that zendaya did regarding rue's character: how she hopes to see rue recognize her own self-worth and find love within herself, to seek that hope and get out of the pattern of addiction. i think about how she could have grown and helped others, maybe be in a position like ali and be a sponsor. i think about how, despite the fact that i'm personally not a big fan of the christian plot, that could have been a pathway to hope and light.
aside from rue's death, the aftermath was fucked up. we didn't get a funeral, we didn't get a montage, we didn't get the raw reactions of the people involved in her life. no, we got a scene of jules painting rue and barely shedding a tear, continuing to be a fucking sugar baby- and then lexi and cassie have a casual conversation about rue with barely even tears (meanwhile, i am literally on the floor SOBBING like what the fuck). and to have cassie so off-handedly say "she was a drug addict" and then talk about her dad is so FUCKED UP.
i appreciated ali's reaction, and his revenge. but that didn't need to happen. none of this needed to happen. even if rue died, she deserved a better ending- a memorial, something less than a fucking speech at some christian house and a cow having her baby.
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he's not supposed to be out right now-- he knows this. he's not supposed to see her, he also knows this. and yet he continues to persist, because nothing else mattered to him right now. not his father's wishes, not his reputation, or his safety. no matter the punishment, no matter what happened to him, he couldn't stop himself-- he simply needed to be around rue, always. even if it was only located in the cracks and crevices of this school, he needed to see her, smell her, taste her. he simply just had no choice in the matter. his father would never understand, would he?
they have late classes-- occult philosophy, history of the cryptid, and (oddly enough) arithmetic. ling can't bring himself to pay attention to those classes, instead he waits. rue and him have their schedules memorized-- ling feels a bit like a loser, but he wants to walk rue everywhere. and yet he feels eyes on him-- eyes that don't belong in this school, eyes that told him that his father really was watching him. from everywhere. the threat of private school prickled at the back of his neck, his body heavy with the anxiety of it. but he can't... he can't not see rue. there was always loopholes, wasn't there?
he finally sees her, sporting her own uniform, knee-high socks. she doesn't realize the pull she has, her untapped vampiric abilities. even if she didn't have that, ling would still be entranced by her, as he threads his fingers in her own. "you look.... really academic today," he teases, knowing that rue probably dazed out just like he did. "i miss you."
these days arkham honestly forgets how to breathe. the past few months have been the most chaotic they have been in well, a long time. finally the angst between him *& his brother was coming to a close. it wasn't the way ark hoped it would end truthfully, but at least he didn't have to worry about protecting warren from everything anymore. no longer had to walk on egg shells to keep the peace. the witch sighs something of content as he walks into lings apartment. ❛❛ if you are about to offer me one of those "fancy" waters, you might wanna rethink that. ❜❜ it sounds like a threat, but it's hardly spoken with any malice.
ling stretches, lately acting more like a cat than anything else. he already knows arkham is arriving before he even steps foot into the building. hell, it's been a habit lately-- something eats away at the witch, more and more as days go by. ling doesn't press it, but his vulpine nature causes him to be nosy at best and invasive at worst. still, ling has a charm about himself and is at least trying to be tactful about it all. golden-hued eyes shift over to the open door, the immediate so-called 'threat' bringing a grin to his lips.
"you sound like you need something a little more than a fancy water," ling comments idly, twirling a blunt in his hand. "i was going to enjoy this all to myself, but i guess i can share... if you tell me what's wrong?"
she doesn't really know where to start pulling this bullshit apart by its seams. it starts somewhere at the moment he disappears, like, just before her dad dies, and just when she needed him most. that he never really REACHED OUT to her or anything, which like... sucked. and now all of a sudden, he was back and wearing pressed black and indigo, and somehow she was supposed to forget all that? yeah fuckin' right.
the anger would have been easier to hold on to, if he didn't KNOW HER so well. already ducking, weaving, moving past her defences. it'd be stunning if she wasn't already missing the dumb ways that they used to waste an afternoon together, or that he'd always been someone willing to pop a few pills just to see what turned up on the other side. even then. fuck. maybe that wasn't supposed to be a good thing for her in the grander scheme of things.
feeling for her pockets, she wonders, how the hell he got at her wallet, but then she remembered. that damn fox. though it wasn't as if she was any better, the night the only real moment that she had without needing her sunglasses to block out the light, her expression pressed thin and frustrated as she started climbing up the side to get right where he'd wanted her all along. "WHAT THE HELL, ling? i mean... urgh!" she makes a grab at it, a miss, catching herself long enough to pause. "... what do you want with me, ling? i thought we weren't really friends like this anymore."
he can feel it, taste the palatable resentment that seeps through rue's pores. he can smell the grief and the anger that simmers within it, only unique to losing something. in rue's immortality, it was ironic that the death of a vampire was still a thing. death, to creatures like them, is even more of a finality because it doesn't happen often, but it still happens. with death comes confusion, a kind of fogginess. and then...
... well, he doesn't know if he wants to ask.
and he only makes it worse, rue getting more and more agitated by the boyish behavior. he still has a hold of her glasses, almost taken aback by her question. it wasn't meant to be passive-aggressive, not really. he hums, staring down at her, eyes a golden glint in the night. he finally jumps off the ledge, meeting her, eye-to-eye.
"your eyes look pretty, i just wanted to see them up close," he says, casually twirling the glasses in his fingers. "and if we weren't friends like before... then you wouldn't have come out to play, would you?" it's sinister, it's fun! he gestures his head toward the direction of town. "let's have some fun, hm? scare a few kids, it's almost spooky season after all."
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everyone asks her - have you heard? have you? GUESS WHO'S BACK!
wu yao is a familiar slant of a man who haunts this town. jericho holds its own haunted history, but even among monsters, he had quite the reputation... and then there'd been the son. ling yao. CHILDHOOD FRIENDS, once upon a time, but, she used to think it wouldn't matter anymore since he'd just... disappeared. without a word, or a note, or the support she would have like, really needed when her dad dies, the year after he leaves.
it kind of twists an uncomfortable feeling within her guts. like whatever, right? he tells her that they're on the same project now, for one of their classes. cheeks flushed with a sense of both frustration and upset, there's so much he's missed, so many things that have come to DEFINE HER NAME, who she's seen as. rue bennett, the fuck up always wearing her sunglasses. was it the sun, or yet another hangover, that part's harder to navigate, murkier waters to map.
so why's she here, looking up at him anyways? his lanky legs left hanging and swaying from the edge, as if NO TIME'S PASSED AT ALL. why's that make her want to cry, all of a sudden? rue squints instead, a hand hooked loose through a belt loop of her baggy capris. "nah, that's bald eagles, beer and guns, or something. i think we're kinda missing on all three, sorry, i think you must be in canada instead." there's a dry flatness to her voice, but she wants to ask him where have you been, instead.
it's easier to be angry, ling knows-- anger protects, sometimes it's warranted. sometimes it blurs things up, and makes clarity a little bit fuzzy. misunderstandings, delays, heartache, anger can do a lot of that too. it doesn't take much for ling to sense that rue harbors a lot of it, and while most of it is about him, some of it is-- he can feel it simmering, underneath the flat tone, the casual way rue looks up at him, kicking at the dirt. he doesn't acknowledge it-- he doesn't know how to, not right now. he doesn't even know if he wants to touch it. he's had his fair share of anger being thrown towards him. but with rue, it just feels *too raw* for him right now.
instead, he grins, that toothy boyish one that's vulpine in nature. he is, after all, his father's son-- a huli jing at its finest. "canada is great, if you're addicted to butter tarts and poutine." a stereotype-- but weren't the monsters here at nevermore stereotypes in their own right?
"anyways, aren't you missing something?" it's childish-- in a lot of ways he's still kind of a kid, pulling out rue's sunglasses that were nestled in her back pocket. like a fox, always a fox. "you'll have to come up here to get them back, bennett! i can't be the only one enjoying the stars like this."
the rumors abound-- they know about him. the whole town does: have you heard? the yaos are back; i heard that wu yao took his son to a boarding school in jakarta; i think they went back to china, didn't they? they killed people, so they had to leave, now they're back.
ling yao is used to it, to a degree. it's a prevalent but annoying inconvenience, hearing his name being spilled out of the mouths of both normies and monsters alike. but he really only had eyes for rue bennett-- the girl he grew up with, to a degree. well, six years was a long time. how were they even supposed to talk to one another? what has changed in rue, since the death of her father? what has changed in him, since his took him away, after that night in his office? it's a hard place to meet, but...
fuck it, at least they can do it over shitty slushies and takis.
ling kicks his legs, casually, over the rooftop of their old stomping grounds-- the convenience store. he's playful, almost careless, definitely not like someone who just drove a lamborghini in a run-down parking lot. at least rue humored him in that. "i can't believe they still make these," ling says, taking a sip of his own drink. "this is the true american experience, you know? "
