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#(Dooooooom this was such a good ask and I loved it!!!)
ikkaku-of-heart · 2 years
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@ephxmerall​ asked: She was talking animatedly about something. Something Zoro knew to be one of her passions. Her tone got this certain inflection to it whenever Ikkaku spoke of her interests that he picked up on almost immediately when their crews allied together. But once they entered into the engine room, his mind wandered to the twisting pipes surrounding them, the gauges that he never cared to understand. He paused in front of one of them, Ikkaku continuing on ahead without realizing.
It made Zoro once again think about exactly how different each of their homes was. Nothing smelled of warm wood and sunlight here. Only the tang of metal, hot exhaust and engine grease filled his nostrils.
"What makes the Polar Tang your home?" He suddenly asked, interrupting Ikkaku mid-sentence. The hilt of one of his swords tapped against one of the pipes with the simple shift of his thumb, curious gaze finally lifting from the gauge to fall on Ikkaku some feet away.
Unprompted
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Ikkaku knew that Zoro didn’t really fully follow what she had been babbling on about for the past then minutes. It wasn’t due to a lack of intelligence - he was far smarter than people gave him credit for and plenty observant, but engines were a specialized field, especially in a world of wooden ships. But she appreciated that his let her talk about it regardless. That even if he didn’t fully understand it, he knew it was something she was passionate about and never begrudged her talking his ear off. The fact that he actually followed her into the engine room instead of wandering off to do his own thing further encouraged her to keep chattering. It was one of the things she liked most about him - he encouraged her passion in his own silent way.
However, she paused mid-sentence when he asked a question. It was sudden, but not unkind or condescending. Genuine curiosity as this vessel was practically another world from what he was familiar with. 
“Well, home is where the Heart is, right?” she joked before her smile softened into something more sentimental. Almost dreamy, even. “It’s hard to explain without sounding sappy, but it just...feels like home, you know?”
She looked around at her surroundings. Pistons and pumps chugged along steadily while the little hands of the gauges held their place, indicating all was well. Her hand stroked one of the pipes, the warmth intense enough to be felt through her glove but she knew it wouldn’t burn her. It rarely did. Only when she was being reckless or foolish, which made her feel like it was the ship scolding her at times. Like Law flicking her forehead, or Gramps rapping her knuckles with his pipe, or Zoro lightly bonking her with the sheathe of his sword. But at the same time, she felt as warm and cared for as when she was wrapped up in their arms.
“It’s home because it’s a place where I always feel safe. The smells and sounds are familiar and comforting. The metal walls are sturdy and strong and I know that while I’m inside them, I’m sheltered and protected. If there’s something wrong, she lets me know and she does her best to keep goin’ while I do my best to fix her. The Polar Tang is home because it’s full of happy memories. It’s home because it’s the first place where I’ve truly felt like I belong. I can expand my skills and show what I’m capable of and she encourages me, I guess. Lets me come up with new ways to make her stronger, faster. I want her to be her best as much as she wants me to be mine. I guess it’s more than just a ship to me; it’s home because the Polar Tang is helping me fulfill my dream. Carrying me towards new knowledge and adventures and giving me what I never had back on Joras.”
Ikkaku returned her attention to Zoro, blushing a little. “Sorry if this isn’t making much sense. Honestly I think I’m making her sound more like a member of the crew than a place, huh?”
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cambot77 · 1 month
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Hi cam!! For the fic writer asks 💕
👌🏻 The fic that took the fastest to write?
🔪 The fic/chapter that hurt the most to write?
HI RACH!
👌🏻 The fic that took the fastest to write?
Probably the first installment of "Something Casual, Something More" (Becky/Ewen, Fluff/Gen/Humor, Explicit (second chapter only)) because I legitimately wrote it in a Discord channel over the course of one evening and then posted it pretty much as-is to Ao3. In terms of finished fic then it would be "All Sad Words of Tongue and Pen" (Damianya, Angst, One shot) that I sat down and wrote in a feverish writing session that I have been unable to replicate since.
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🔪 The fic/chapter that hurt the most to write?
That would probably be the BBGun chapter of "Five Guys Becky Kissed (+ One She Never Did)" because I love that pairing as you know but I always intended the fic to be Becky/Ewen, so Bill and Becky were dooooooomed. It was very interesting to write them as a failed relationship, though, because as much as I think they work well together there is a lot of potential for them to just be wrong for each other as well. It was a good exercise to explore that, even though it did hurt.
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sketchesofsam · 6 years
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The Illustration Master Class - A First Timer's Journal
This is a long blog post. It's mostly for my own purposes, but also for those who want an in-depth look at what being at the IMC is like. I have some pointers for first timers, things you might not think of and things to consider in advance. They'll be at the end of the article. I want to thank Dave Palumbo for allowing me to use a couple of his amazing photos too, he's a talented SOB. 
probably won't forget the moment my Facebook messages suddenly started pinging off. 'Congrats Sam!' 'Hey Sam, you won!' I distinctly remember thinking, hmm, what did I win? Did I enter another twitter giveaway or something? Then someone followed up with 'you won the scholarship!' It took me a moment. Then the chat I was in the middle of with my other half suddenly filled with lots of expletives and capitals on my end. Holy shit. I'd won the Muddy Colors scholarship to the IMC, something that had been a long-term wish of mine since I'd found out about it 5 or 6 years prior but hadn't ever had the funds to attend. So to find out that my entry to their scholarship program - through the generous donations of the Muddy Colors Patreon - submitted on a 'what have I got to lose' mentality that was still shadowed by the fuzzy sting of not getting into Spectrum, had scored me the full cost of the course. I'd honestly forgotten I'd applied. Let that be a lesson to those of you who hold back on submitting to things, especially the things that are free. It's always worth a punt. 
So what's it like to go to the IMC? I can tell you that winning the scholarship made the pre-IMC thumbnail assignment a lot more stressful than if I'd paid for it. The weight of imagining disappointing the people who had seen my work and voted for it - artistic heroes of mine -  was pretty heavy. It made me feel like I couldn't just go and do the same thing I'd always done, even if it had won me the scholarship. Before I started drawing, I reconsidered my influences. I'd started a secret pinterest board a few months back simply called 'Ho Fuck That's Good.' Stuff that gave me a gut punch when I looked at it. I spent a lot of time looking at those images and a lot of the others I had pinned. I stopped paying attention to work that I simply found technically impressive, that had awesome composition or great values. I looked for what moved me. Why it moved me. I started making notes about themes I found compelling or that cropped up a lot in my own work. I decided I wasn't going to do just a straight up realistic narrative Whaler Girl piece, I was going to try and make my own work be more like that which moved me. A risky, and perhaps somewhat dumb move, given those same realistic, narrative images had won me the scholarship. 
We were asked to provide 4 or 5 thumbnails, either of our own choosing, or from an assignment provided, such as an illustration to accompany a short story, the likes of which are often published on Tor.com. With themes like duality, death, grief and love in relationships crowding my brain, I created a lot of thumbnails. I wasn't going to take the first 3 or 4 that came out. I did about 20 in total and narrowed it down to the 6 I felt most attached to. Some of them even had hints back to The Whaler Girl in a very asbtract way. They'd come out better than I'd hoped for and I could see a tiny glimpse of the sort of painting I might get out of it. It made me excited to put them in front of my chosen faculty member. 
We were asked to pick a top 5 from the vertiable smorgasbord of faculty. That was hard. It turned out that most people got grouped with their top pick and that dictated who the other faculty were that would give you feedback. I suspect my pick would have surprised a few people. Kent Williams was actually the instructor I was least familiar with, but researching his work, especially his most recent work, it hit the same kind of buttons that my inspiration board had. His work felt emotionally personal and while I knew I didn't want to necessarily paint like he did, I felt he might be able to give good feedback on how to tap into that sense of the personal. Perhaps someone who could help keep me on track with the first wibbly steps I was taking with my own work. I count myself lucky to have landed in the group with Rebecca, Kent and Tara (McPherson). 
I wanted to make a good first impression, but there were so many approaches to the dreaded 'crit day'. Some folks brought only one or two finished colour thumbs, some folks just had small, traditionally drawn thumbnails, occasionally done on arrival the night before. Some brought photo mockups of the exact piece they wanted to work on. All approaches got good feedback. I'd been forewarned that crit day could be rough, but I think the Studio 201 guys were pretty chill. I did peek my head in on the other two rooms briefly. Donato, Greg Ruth and Scott Fischer were all highly animated and I've been told often argued with each other's feedback. Dan Dos Santos, Irene Gallo and Greg Manchess were part of the group that, from chatting to folks, seemed to get the most direct feedback.
I was a little surprised when there was no tracing paper used during my crit. All three faculty members responded favourably to what had been my favourite thumbnail, despite its weirdness. No direct suggestions other than resolving the shapes in my minimal, non-figurative space (that minor bit of feedback would come to haunt me by The Thursday of DOOM, but I'll get to that later). Inspirations like Inka Essenhigh, Hope Gangloff and Dorothea Tanning were thrown my way, I loved all three for very different reasons. It was safe to say inspiration was running high and I had a tonne of positive energy to run with. 
I felt like I was well prepped going into the IMC, but I wasn't. Choosing to go full traditional when having to fly internationally was a pain. I didn't have a lot of the stuff I needed and had to rely on the infinite kindness of my fellow students and faculty to see me through. Stephen, Annie, Chris, Julia, you were all lovely, I can't thank you enough. 
My Tuesday started with James Gurney sat at my breakfast table. That was surreal but awesome. He and his wife Jeanette are as lovely two people as you could hope to meet, full of insight and always taking notes. The previous day's lecture on photo reference was flowing through my mind and I dreaded having to ask fellow students. My figures were both nudes and that wasn't something I was comfortable with, though I thought perhaps I could take individual legs and arms and use a little online ref to fill in the rest. I wish I'd drummed up the courage to ask my fellow students, but that particular social step eluded me the whole week. I spent the day instead with many sheets of tracing paper, figuring out What marks were what. I had discussions with Greg Ruth and Donato Giancola about how to find those shapes and make them fit in my piece. You have to figure out who to listen to, and whose advice to stash for a later date. You get bombarded with advice if you go in as open-minded as I did. I'd thrown myself into a pool I should have been paddling in first, pretty much at the very public deep end. I'll admit I found ways to put off getting to painting, as it was only the 2nd oil painting I'd done in the last 20 years and the company I had in the room was stellar and a little overwhelming. Eventually, I chose to redraw via a grid so I could edit as I went along and I used some reference I shot of my own limbs to help flesh the drawing out. I left Tuesday feeling reasonably positive about the work.
Wednesday was a full day with faculty feedback, up to the first 5 pm lecture. Dan Dos Santos, who is perfectly lovely, but also very honest with feedback, stopped by my easel. Overall, very complimentary, he pulled me on a bit of weird anatomy, that after using a lot more photo ref with the rest of the piece, had begun to stand out. He suggested I grab Rebecca after our discussion. I'd responded best to her feedback, as she seemed to understand what I was trying to do, so I grabbed her after lunch. She immediately told me the leg and anatomy I'd had in the thumbnail had been working, and that if I liked the weirdness (which I did) to go weird with the rest of the piece to make the leg fit. Literally the opposite of Dan's feedback. Feedback is such a personal thing, every instructor has their own view of art and own journey. I'd probably tried to take a little bit of everyone who'd stopped by and given feedback and every little bit had nudged me slightly off the course I'd intended to take. Dan's feedback was spot on, if I'd been after something with a solid grounding in realism, but I wasn't. I was after an emotional feeling rather than muscles that looked like they fit where they were supposed to go. Rebecca suggested I just print the thumbnail out, mount it to masonite and paint on that. But resolve my shapes first. 
That led me to ask Tara for advice and after some back and forth, I thought I knew where I was going, and decided rather than be tied to the values I'd got in the thumbnail to start with, I'd trace down the printed thumbnail and resolve my shapes. All went well, I got the drawing on the board, and aware of the ever-ticking clock and my ability to get feedback on my painting process, I was keen to get started the following day.
I nick-named Thursday 'Thursday of DOOOOOOOM' in my sketchbook notes. With that many 'O's'. It started well, with my sketch on my illustration board, I figured I'd use acrylic underpainting to speed up the process, then seal with matte medium and start on top in oils. I'd brought a lovely lime green and violet with me, my underpainting was done in warm purple-reds as a counterpoint, and I was winging it. It felt good. I stepped away for a bit before lunch and came back after to the horror of a C-shaped warped board. A brand I'd not used before, I hadn't been heavy with it at all. I threw some matte medium on the back in the hopes it would pull itself out of the curve, but it only stiffened. I think panic set in at this point, I knew there was no point in doing more on the board, but I'd been stubborn over mounting the printouts I'd done. Old dog, new tricks and all that.
Distraught, I knew I had no choice. I slunk off to the back of the studio and tried not to blub my eyes out as I tried a totally new method of mounting with less than perfect tools. Flustered, my hair constantly got stuck in the medium, making me even more panicked that the whole thing would be a disaster and that I'd missed the last supply run and would have to face the very public shame of asking someone for actual help. If there's one thing I hate, it's not being self-sufficient. My fellow students would have happily helped out, but shame is a pretty powerful emotion, it tends to rule what you do. I prayed the mounted paper wouldn't need a 2nd sheet mounting on the back to counter the drawing mounted on the front. At best, in the blazing sun, this stuff would take a couple of hours to dry to the point I could paint on it. The wind did its best to prevent me from stacking the board outside and in my hours of deepest bleakness, I figured that maybe if it blew over into the dirt and insects, I'd say fuck it and make them part of the fucking thing too. It was also at this point I realised the printouts had cropped the two thumbnails I'd chosen to work with, altering their composition drastically. My own dumb fault for not setting the page size up properly in the printer. One more shame I'd suck up and live with. I wish I'd asked for help. I think knowing the pieces weren't what I'd initially intended broke my ability to give them my full attention and killed my mojo for the next couple of days. My anxiety rats, as Rebecca delightfully referred to them, were in full swing. 
While I waited for it to dry, I headed back into the studio and mentioned to Rebecca I'd given in with the curved board and mounted the thumbnail and would she have a look over what I'd chosen to do with the background. Rebecca is gracious and lovely and patiently listens to me explain what I've done. Then she points to some of the graphic elements I'd put in and gently says that they still feel too literal and forced, that the motifs I choose should be something I relate to closely and that it doesn't quite live up to the right hand, figurative side of the painting. I suggest a couple of other ideas, feeling a scrabbling panic bulding in me, only to hear her tell me everything still feels too literal. My logic brain knows she's right, but after a distraught morning, I'm clasping at any straw I have to salvage the situation. I don't know if it showed, and she saw that I was struggling with it or if it was just honest feedback for the moment, but at that point, she looked at me and said 'maybe this piece is a step too far for you right now, maybe you should do the other piece, if that's something that's more comfortable for you.' I think I agreed with her, nodded and extolled the virtues of taking a step back into my comfort zone, getting a painting I knew how to do done was a good thing, yes? But damn if that wasn't a kick to the gut at that very moment. 
She was absolutely right, though. I'd throw myself into a deep pool, with people who were olympic athletes at diving its depths, and in the course of a week expected to be able to at least dive a good distance with them. I'd been able to get my head underwater with my well-planned thumbnails, but in this overwhelming, information packed, inspiring, public test of artistic mettle, I'd punched above my depth, so to speak. Trying to shift gears artistically when you have your own space and the time to find your journey is one thing, I don't know if it can be done in a week, no matter how much amazing input you get from your artistic heroes. Chris, Erin, Annie, I'm sorry if my energy those next 48 hours was a bummer, it wasn't a place I was familiar with being. 
Kent Williams came to the rescue of my very bruised ego that evening with a talk about his personal journey through art. Indirectly, seeing the bredth and depth of his work over such a long time span, I confess to feeling a little idiotic that I'd expected to be able to make that leap in a week. Every faculty member who gave a talk like that had shown me that their journeys were long, and often fraught with failed ventures or periods of doing artistic things they didn't want to. I left the lecture with my tail between my legs, but a renewed sense that I would do my best with the hand I'd given myself. I did a couple of colour studies that evening, traditionally, inspired by seeing James Gurney's master studies in his lecture. I loved doing them, and wish I'd had more time to do more. But I found a piece online that had a palette I liked and did a couple of explorations of a similar theme. I finally, finally, 4 days into the escapade, managed to put down some oil paint. 
Friday and Saturday I painted as much as I could, but tentatively, I was making marks I'd never made before. I listened to the feedback being given around me and let anyone who wanted to stop and give me feedback, do so. I'm not sure I actively asked for it. I struggled as the ladies around me with their amazinly characterful pieces drew the attention of everyone who went past. I wondered if I was so far off the mark and weird that no one knew what to say about my piece. Maybe it was so bland that they couldn't praise or crit it. In retrospect, I recognise that my mood and lack of decent sleep was tinting my mood heavily, and I suspect I was giving off the same vibe, which is enough to make folks give you a bit of a wide berth. 
The theme of finding your niche and doing what you love came up in more than one lecture over those days. I went to bed at 2 am both nights, in an attempt to get as much done as I could. I socialised a little more, realising that was as much a part of the experience as the painting. If not more. I'm hugely thankful for the bonds I forged during that week, something I couldn't have done at home, no matter how much I painted. Those bonds were worth much more to me than the painting I half finished. I think I came to accept that what I wanted to do was going to be a journey that needed a little longer than a week to take. I wish there had been more 'round table' lectures with all the faculty, seeing them interact together on the business lecture was amazing. 
Sunday was chill. I'd had the intention of painting more, but clearing up took a while, and I felt good being relaxed. So I socialised more instead. Our final lecture with Donato was the perfect note to end the experience on and the open house was a chance to take in everyone's work, the standard of which was amazing. After a super tasty mexican dinner and strawberry margherita, the bar beckoned. After drawing I don't know how much hentai in people's sketchbooks and getting a badass Bill Nighy sketch from the awesome Bud Cook in my own sketchbook, alongside the weirdest pseudonyms and animal drawings ever, I crashed and burned as being under the influence after a week of mental stress and lack of sleep took its toll on me. Conan, thank you for making sure I got back safely that night, I really appreciate it, I suspect I'd have passed out in a dark corner of the bar otherwise. Sad I missed out on the late night partying that ensued, but damn, did I need that night's sleep. 
So there's one woman's view of what it's like to go to the IMC, to throw yourself at the mercy of the faculty and your own desires. To fail and not deal with it well, to realise that the painting was never the important thing. IMC was amazing. I can only hope this gives those of you who haven't been a teensy insight. I'm not going to cover what the lectures were or what faculty shared with us, that's a very specific IMC experience, that you really have to go to appreciate. I will say I am hugely thankful to Dan, Rebecca and all of those on Muddy Colors who made that experience real for me. It has enriched me in ways I suspect I'll only realise as my journey continues. Thank you to everyone who gave me kind words and praise and to those who tried to guide me on my way. If ever the opportunity arises for you to attend, I would say grab it with both hands and run with it. Even if your experience doesn't run as profound as mine, and it simply lets you have some time to paint whatever the hell you want, being in a huge room full of people going through the same thing is well worth the price, not to mention watching faculty paint in real time is invaluable. 
So, what if you've taken that leap, some months from now and you're going to the IMC? Here's a few pointers from someone who thought they were prepared and was woefully not. 
1 -  THE DORMS Are basic AF. I was somewhat prepared, but when the FAQ says the beds are firm, they mean it. Think springs wrapped in a bit of plastic tarp. The sheets are functional, but the blanket looked like someone had put used dog bedding through a shredder and mushed it out into a rectangle. I bought a spare blanket at the CVS store, cause no way was that thing touching my skin. I may be a little sensitive though. I affectionately referred to the whole set up as my prison bed, cause honestly, that's all I could think of. If you can bring your own bedding, I'd recommend it.
The dorm bathrooms are gender neutral, which means anyone can use them. I was fine with it, but it's odd the first time you wander into the bathroom and find the opposite sex brushing their teeth. I never had any problems taking a shower, though, they were pretty quiet. 
Morris Pratt Dorm was definitely the more social, I was very thankful to be on the 3rd floor, as a light sleeper, the partying into the wee hours would have kept me awake had I been on the lower floors. The box fans helped with white noise, but the doors are all pretty heavy, so unless folks are very delicate with how they close them, expect some noise. I found the box fan enough without the AC, even when it got pretty warm on the last couple of days. 
2 - FOOD. Having never been to a large educational establishment in the US, I wasn't sure what to expect with the food. Would I have to venture into Amherst to find healthy stuff, would there be much choice? The food was surprisingly decent. It's still a large facility, so it's never going to be amazing restaurant quality, but there were a few choices every day and a well-stocked salad bar. They even had a soft serve ice cream machine, that I managed to avoid until Sunday. I'm not a coffee drinker, but I had it on good authority that the coffee in the dining hall wasn't great. It might be an idea to bring a drinks container with you, as mealtimes are the only time you can get drinks on campus, outside of water fountains. Amherst is only a 10-minute walk down the road, though. 
3 - ART SUPPLIES AND STUDIO SAFETY. I brought paints, brushes and surfaces with me, with the knowledge I'd ordered a couple extra things for while I was there and that there was a supply run. If you work on specific surfaces, it's best to bring those with, Michael's wasn't super well stocked, and more speciality things like large clayboard weren't available. A lot of people bring extras and are happy to share, thankfully. I would have brought more old rags or kitchen towels and some tape. People often used walls to tape up thumbnails or other pieces of art.
The university runs a very strict number of safety policies surrounding paints, water and mediums. Bring some lidded jars with you for mediums and water. Everything has to be labelled clearly and remained closed when not in use. Even water used for rinsing acrylic and watercolours. All have to be disposed of carefully too. Same with anything you wipe paint or mediums on, so using something a bit more disposable like kitchen towel might do you better. They ask you to cover your oil paints when not in use, though that can be with a simple piece of palette paper. 
If you choose an easel, if you have space for a little extra table, you'll likely make good use of it. The chairs they supply are also very basic and not comfortable for long periods, so bringing a cushion is definitely a good idea.  Oh, and they say the studio opens at 8 am on Monday but I got there at 8 am and a lot of the spaces had already been taken, so if you want prime real estate, get there early! 
4 - SELF PROMOTION This sounds like a no-brainer. I brought business cards for the faculty and my portfolio review with Irene Gallo. I thought I'd sorted my work out reasonably well, but actually, my website would have been a better place to show off my work. I also wish I'd brought a physical portfolio to leave out for students and faculty to flick through, perhaps an example of finished work that was either nicely printed if I was doing digital, or one of my traditional pieces. The latter is tricky when flying. My business cards were on the pricey side so I wish I'd had some decent postcards or stickers, printed for the open studio, where folks were picking stuff up. You never know who's going to pick one up! The internet can be spotty in the building, so unless you have some 4G going on, it can be tricky to show off folios digitally. 
You might also be lucky enough to score a second portfolio review if the guests have enough time, I am so glad I could put my work in front of WotC's Jeremy Jarvis. It cheered my Saturday up no end! Make sure you check the lists when they go up and bag your second spot early. And don't puss out. 
5 - DON'T BE AFRAID TO ASK FOR HELP I'm stubborn and British, so asking for help is the worst, but everyone there will gladly help you out if they can. Especially the assistant team, Daneen, Julia and Stephen and the 'honored easels' who've been in your situation. Take advantage of them, they are all lovely people.
And that sums it up! An amazing, tiring, exhausting, mentally demanding, inspiring, overwhelming experience that I wouldn't change for the world. I hope to repeat it in the next year or two. I count myself lucky to be part of the alumni and perhaps if you're reading this, I might see you there too. 
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robotslenderman · 7 years
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Ooohh your LaraXAvallac'h theories are interesting... do you think she was justified in her decision ? What would you have done if you were her ? Her story is quite tragic especially considering she was supposedly auberon's daugher makes you feel quite bad for him ? God only knows what cregan had that was soo great ?? Also i don't remember it being implied that Ava and lara slept together?
Whether she was justified or not – that’s… verrry complicated to me. She had the right to live whatever life she wanted.
But it’s complicated because of her role. She was one generation away from producing the heir that would be able to defeat the White Frost and save all the worlds, not just her own. At the very least she could have stayed long enough to produce that heir, and then leave.
But on the other… she never asked for that. She never was given a choice. And I wouldn’t be surprised if part of it was her refusing to stay because of that child (presumably a daughter) – because she didn’t want any child of hers to be sacrificed, even if it meant saving everyone else. She didn’t want any child to grow up the way she did, with her destiny laid out for her and no say in it.
More under the cut.
TL;DR – Was she justified to leave? Yes. Was she justified to doom everyone? Ehhhhh!!
I don’t feel bad for Auberon. I don’t feel bad for Avallac’h. They didn’t have to watch their loved one die, they didn’t die themselves. It was Lara’s story, not theirs. I feel bad for her. I feel bad she had to watch Cregan die when he made her so happy, I feel bad that she clearly asked for help after he did and was refused, I feel bad that she died unsupported and almost entirely alone, except for the child she died protecting.
Was she justified in her decision to leave Avallac’h? Yes. She had every right to. She was justified to leave her people, to leave her father, to leave her world. Everyone and anyone would have been justified.
Was she justified to doom them all in the process? 
I can’t say. I want to say it’s as simple as “well she should have saved them but she didn’t therefore she wasn’t.” But it’s not.
It wasn’t her fault that the Aen Elle put all their eggs in one basket. Why her? Why was she the only one? Why were they so dumb as to breed one woman with this gene, and not a whole bunch? Why didn’t she have sisters or cousins that could have taken over, giving them all a choice? What would have happened if she died in infancy? They’d have been screwed over anyway. In a way they had it coming. 
Their entire plan hinged on controlling one woman and getting her to do what they wanted her to do. Avallac’h would have benefited from this because no matter what Lara felt for him, he would have been married to the woman he loved and had a child for her. I don’t feel bad for him for being denied something he shouldn’t have been told he was entitled to in the first place.
But mostly I can’t say “no” because of meta reasons.
Every storyline that goes “you have to have a baby or you’re a terrible person” makes me feel really uncomfortable and Lara’s story is no exception. She had to have a baby with Avallac’h, or her people were doomed, and that makes me feel really uncomfortable as a woman because there’s already societal pressure for AFAB people to shut up and have babies and We Are Bad if we don’t. That’s why I don’t feel bad for Avallac’h or Auberon at all, because why would I? They’re not the ones being controlled, they’re not the ones being told to live a certain life or the fate of their entire species will collapse. They wanted that life, Lara didn’t. Women in real life get this shit every time we fight to get the vote or go to work. Auberon just sat around afterwards wallowing in self pity and so did Avallac’h, and frankly, screw them.
Lara’s story is just another case of “ha, Lara has to have babies" “– but that story’s terrible!” “yeah well it’s justified because if she doesn’t EVERYONE WILL DIE.”
It’s kind of shitty.
I think Lara could have stayed long enough to have the child, then left and taken the child with her. But even that solution wouldn’t have worked – the Aen Elle might have gone to war with humanity over it. The only option Lara would have had to have her cake and eat it too was to fake her and the child’s death. (And I believe that in the games canon she did fake her death, but only her own.)
I don’t think there was a good answer. So Lara just went, “Screw it all, I’m out.”
On an in-universe level where RL factors and pressure for this exact thing didn’t exist, I want to say no, I’d have found another way, but I don’t know that I could have.
Without hearing Lara tell us her reasons, I can’t say for sure. I want to say her decision to doom them all was unjustified but I have too much sympathy to be able to actually come out and say it, because it’s too close to home for me, because I’d feel like I was encouraging every douchebag IRL who ever went “women should stay home and have babies or the human race will DIE OUT DOOOOOOM DOOOOOOOM DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!”
Lara doesn’t get a voice. Auberon does. Avallac’h does. 
But Lara doesn’t.
I love Avallac’h, but I don’t have to feel no sympathy for Lara to do so, and she didn’t deserve what she got in any sense.
(Also, re: Avallac’h implying he slept with Lara – that could be me looking too much into it, I fully admit that. When he flipped out at Ciri that one time I interpreted that to mean, “I slept with her but I’ll never sleep with you because I don’t want my memories of intimacy with her to be corrupted by new memories of sleeping with you. (ps humans are gross)” But I could be reaching! Maybe they never did!)
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