#halfway joking there but in general i think its a pretty good idea that ive had fun doing!

[rosegardenofeden]

tell us about your coming of age/d&d parallell show

gdfgdf oh gladly! I may not be able to do the idea justice, but the basic concept is a bunch of kids in high school with Issues who all attend a D&D club after school, DMed by their English teacher. Over the course of the show, each episode basically has two stories running in parallel: one, in the world of the game, (possibly shown in a different art style/animation) and one in reality, in which all the kids have to deal with problems that come up, paralleled in the game world. Like, for example, one of my less fleshed-out ideas is for a character who is normally incredibly reserved, but plays a Barbarian in the game, and has to learn to stand up for themselves by incorporating the aspects they play. Of course, and this is the one supernatural point of order, which is that their English teacher has mild psychic abilties that he uses to try and help the kids deal with the issues in a virtual space. Should he be doing this? Probably not. Is it going to come up? Yes. So far my ideas are pretty soft, but here are the characters I've worked out so far. B: A somewhat quiet "boy" who plays a confident Tiefling Bard. You can probably guess where that's going. The only episode I wrote was about her finally coming to terms with herself and standing up to her father, represented in the game by the literal King of Hell. Charity: Comes from an extremely evangelical family, plays a Cleric who slowly has to realize that their organized religion actually is pretty fucked up, and has to seek their own path to faith. Laine: Basically someone who spends so much of her time and herself helping people that she never gets her time in the spotlight. Plays a support Paladin. Ross: Plays a headstrong Rogue who is constantly going ahead of the group and doing her own plans, often to the detriment of others. In real life, she and Laine have to work out their relationship to be on more equal grounds, where Ross learns to support Laine, and Laine learns to stand up for herself. Dorian: Plays a joke character, Sloppy Jeff, a Warlock who wears a bathrobe and gets his powers from an eldritch seagull. Basically is constantly deflecting with jokes, sort of seen as a class clown. Has a fuckton of issues and Sloppy Jeff eventually has a heartbreaking story arc about how he actually obtained his powers, and his relationship with his older brother. I only have one actual episode scripted out, which I wrote for a screenwriting class, intended to be a season finale of sorts. I might post it! I just think that it would be a lot more interesting and easier to connect with than if you just did, like, a typical D&D campaign. Like, if you're just going to tell a Generic Fantasy Story, why are you making a D&D show? Make anything else! (Like a Stormlight Archives show please) Also, this more from a cynical production standpoint, but shooting half your epic fantasy show in a typical high school would really cut down on the budget, and allow you to do a lot of cool, high-production moments in the Campaign world to underscore the emotional beats of the real world moments! So yeah. Please hire me WOTC.

[captiancap]

Man-eater

(this is more of a Prolouge I guess? know I said part 2 of I notice you was going to happen but ive also been wanting to shed some light on this particular boy so here you go pls forgive. TW: Arachnophobia)

Being a security guard means you've seen some odd things. It paid well and you didn't actually have to use the taser as much as you first thought, so you kept doing it. You got recommended to different places but never to far from home.

But seeing weird things was pretty normal. People making out in places they shouldn't be, people doing drugs in places they shouldn't be, people just generally being in places they shouldn't be. One time you actually managed to stop what you think was an attempted kidnapping in a warehouse.

That warehouse has always given you strange vibes even before that incident. It seems to attract all the weirdos, which made some sense because the guy who owned it was a big weirdo too.

Or well... Actually that's false. He wasn't a weirdo. A bit quiet, okay, very quiet, and an odd sense of fashion but he was always polite. Greeting you when you happened to cross paths and occasionally thanking you for keeping watch as well as you do.

You never bothered to ask his name. Why would you? Besides he was easy enough to point out to anyone who wanted to know for themselves.

He's a big guy. Very big. Towering over even your tallest coworkers at a good 7 feet tall at least. And as impolite as this may sound, he was fat, definitely. Dad bod on point, as the kids say. Lots of pitch black hair all over his body covering extremely pale skin , messy and unkept. But you could tell he was strong.

He has to be what with him constantly carrying large containers to and from the warehouse. You've offered to help a few times but he's always brushed you off. Simply saying it wasn't a problem for him.

Alright, whatever Mr. Strong Man.

That was all you really knew about him. He was polite, big, quiet, and could probably bench press two of you. It's not like you chatted with him everyday, infact he only came around about 3 times a month.

It's silly really but after awhile, around summer, you developed a bit of a crush on this mysterious man. You contemplated asking him out, if only just to get to know him more, but didn't want to seem like a creep. In all honesty it was probably very hard to creep him out.

One hot day while he was taking a break from un-loading a few of the usual large containers, you decided to make a move. If it could even be considered that. No dinner or movie offer but you did ask his name.

He turned his head to face in your direction, the dark hair covering his eyes swayed slightly. It felt like he was analyzing you. Like a highschooler analyzed a frog just before cutting it open to get to the real stuff. You waverd, thinking that maybe 'prosuing' him wasn't such a good idea.

"Mastiff." He replied. Russian accent thick, but not incomprehensible. You chuckled nervously and introduced yourself. "I already knew your name" He says. You ask him how that is, a bit confused.

He pauses, then smiles, the slightest twitch of the lips. He points to his own chest and says "Name tag."

You mentally face-palm so hard you get dizzy for a second. Laughing it off once again you apologize for being an idiot. The feeling of being picked apart by his eyes leaves and you two actually have a decent conversation till he finishes packing things away.

You've never seen him smile that much before.

You've made a habit of talking to him when you get the chance. He doesn't seem to mind and is actually very good at conversation. You find out he's a writer and that some of the containers hold large amounts of books he has already read. Not all of the containers though.

He shows up more often, almost once a week. It actually catches you off gaurd when he's the one to ask you for a date. Of course the little crush hadn't gone away but you forgot about actively going after him in favor of enjoying conversation. You agree and he asks when you would be free.

You set up a time and date and for a while its all you think about. You two were going to see some old movie at a drive in who's whole thing was 'the movies are crap but hey free fireworks!'. Mastiff said he went there once as a child and it had scared the Jesus out of him, not the movie, but the fireworks. It sounded exciting.

On that night you tried to dress nice but not over dress. The line between which was very blurred that evening. Mastiff had picked you up at the park a few blocks from where you lived. His car was black, much like everything else he seemed to own.

He looked very nice, or that might be the fact that's you've only seen him in dirty jeans and T-shirts. He had on a simple undershirt and cardigan as well as some actually clean jeans. All of which were, of course, black. Maybe it was a goth thing. He could definitely be a goth.

The conversation as always was enjoyable and relaxed. You learned that he had many siblings, the exact number never specified, and two fathers. Of course he inquired about your family and you told him what you were comfortable with for the time and place.

You arrived after another half hour and parked in the nearly deserted lot. A few kids were running around waiting for the movie to start. Mastiff sets up the blankets on the trunk and you take a seat.

You pat the space next to you but he shakes his head. He says he needed to stretch his legs for a bit. 15 minutes later he's still standing. You scoot across the trunk to be closer to him.

Halfway through the movie you start to hear him mumble when certain things happen. You try to hear what exactly he's saying but it's rough and forgien. Russian probably.

The movie ends and people start to move around and set up fireworks. Mastiff goes to the back seat, bringing back a pack of rainbow sparklers.

"I didn't want to bring anything too illegal." He jokes. He takes a lighter out of his pocket and hands you the sparkler just as the colors start to change. Funny, you didn't take him for a smoker.

You two go through the whole pack while watching people who did bring more illegal items shoot them off into the sky. You look over and see the colorful lights illuminate Mastiff's profile. He should wear color more often, it's nice on him.

He drops you off at your apartment building after it's well into the night. You attempt to give him a small kiss on the cheek but he's so damn tall. He notices your attempt and instead of just bending down to make it easier for you, he lifts you up by the waist and places a soft kiss on your jaw.

You're a bit surprised, flustered, as he sets you down gently. He smiles, "I had fun tonight, when would you be available again?" You stutter out that you would be getting a day off next week, which you have yet to actually ask for. "Perfect. May I see your phone?"

You hand him your phone and he puts his number in. "Call me with the details when you have them alright?" You agree and take your phone back. You say you're goodbyes, he drives off and you head into your apartment.

You scream into your pillow with excitement. Why are you like this? You're an adult, you've had tons of kisses. No one has ever lifted you as easily as he did before but that wasn't so bad.

You spend a few minutes debating if you should text him tonight. No, no, can't be to clingy, plus he's probably driving still. Can't endanger a possible future boyfriend.

Sleep doesn't come easy that night but when it finally does it isn't pleasent. You have a nightmare, a very vivid one. You're actually in Mastiff's warehouse, peeking around with a flashlight. You look at one of the larger containers in the room. You remember this container, Mastiff had said that it held something that used to belong to his father. Something scuttles across the floor.

You whip around and shine your light across the room. Empty. It's just you there. You turn back to the box and everything in your body is telling you to leave it alone and walk away. But you don't listen.

You un-latch the sides and open it.

Suddenly you are hit with the horrid smell of rotten, burned meat. You watch as millions of spiders crawl out of the container and cover the floor. They crawl up your legs and bite you mercilessly. You're forzen as the spiderlings make thier way up your arms and to your face. They dig at your eyes and crawl into your ears and nose. You suffocate.

You jolt from your sleep and make a loud gasping sound. You'll never take air for granted ever again. You lay there for a few minutes, the sun barely peeking in from your window, still feeling frozen but thankful for the lack of billions of legs and tiny teeth scampering across your body.

The horrifying dream began to fade as you started your morning routine. Your shift didn't start till later in the day so you had a few hours to kill. Once again you debated texting Mastiff but decided against it.

You made food and checked all your social media while lounging on the couch. When that got boring you called your boss to actually ask for the day off next week. She agreed rather easily, though the comment about how you've been looking stressed lately wasn't very appreciated. You felt fine.

You did. You swear.

Work was the same as usual. Mastiff didn't show up which was also normal. You found yourself glancing at his warehouse more than usual. You weren't permitted to enter anyone's personal storage but you kept inching closer to it's entrace without knowing.

You stopped yourself before you could open the door.

Next week rolled around and you had finally gathered the courage to text Mastiff. You learned he preffered to call, that's cool, you like listening to him. He told you he was a bit concerned that he scared you off after you not contacting him for a few days. You reassure him that you are in no way scared off and that you were just, once again, being an idiot.

You two arranged to meet at a nice local cafe that Thursday. Once again the line between dressed appropriately and over dressed was unclear to you, but you managed. You walked in and immediatly you saw him. Gosh he sticks out like a sore thumb in a place like this.

Black, as always, is the preferred hue. But he looked good and comfortable so you suppose that's what matters. You walked over and sat across from him. He smiled at you, which still felt odd to see.

"You look nice, what's the occasion?" He asked. You joked with him saying that you had a date with a really cute guy and wanted to make a good impression. He chuckled, "I'm sure he already thinks you're great."

You blushed.

It was a nice brunch. Excellent conversation as always. You didn't bring up the dream but you did tell him about that one secret hobby you're embarrassed to tell most people about. He thought it was charming. You blushed alot that day.

You noticed he didn't eat much yet still paid for everything. You told him you felt a bit guilty about that but he brushed it off.

"It's no problem. Really." He would tell you. You weren't so sure about that but he shut you up real fast with another gentle kiss. You swore that he would be the death of you and he laughed.

That's how it went for a long time. Dates happened more frequently, you learned more about him but not enough for him to lose that mysterious air that drew you too him in the first place. You shared embarrassing stories, him admitting that before taking it seriously that he used to write for smut magazines, and you confessed that incident in school where it was totally you who did it but you just kept your mouth shut and someone else got blamed.

You got close. Not -let's move in together and have babies- close, but close enough that you've spent a few nights at his house and vice versa. It was one of those Saturday mornings in his kitchen that he officially asked you to go steady with him.

It didn't take much convincing for you to say yes. You really liked Mastiff, and from the sounds of it he really liked you. Being able to call him your boyfriend was like iceing on the cake. And you called him that alot.

'Boyfriend' often took the place of his name in conversations. It annoyed him a little but you were having fun so he let you get away with it. He had his fair share of nicknames for you as well, some of the Russian ones weren't all that appropriate but he wouldn't tell you which ones.

It was comfortable. Very comfortable. For awhile. He hid it well, but not forever. It actually surprised you that he told you of his own accord more than what he told you.

He realized one night while eating that if he wanted to be serious with you that he needed to confess something. You got the call and headed over to his house right after your shift ended.

He didn't look... Guilty. He looked calm and stoic, like when you first met him. You took a seat at the dinning table and asked him what was wrong. He said nothing. He just leaned over the table and kissed you. That's when it hit.

A strong taste of iorn. Of blood. You reel back and see the small stream of red coming from his mouth. Of course you freak out and start asking if he's hurt. He shakes his head and tries to explain but as he opens his mouth you see long, bulbous blood stained fangs.

And you're frozen again. You're standing frozen in your boyfriend of 8 months kitchen, watching as he tries to explain that he isn't human all the while small streams of blood run down his jaw.

That's the first time you see him get close to crying. He doesn't actually but he gets close. His voice wavers and his hands shake only slightly. But he gets through it. He gets through his confession of being... Something you can't remember... And waits for your response.

You run.

What were you supposed to do? Stay? Hug him and tell him it's okay and you still love him? He most likely just ate someone.

You can't go back home so you stay with a friend for a few days. You're still in shock for the most part and she's kind enough not to ask questions. It's on the 4th day of this hiding out plan that he contacts you. It's a simple text just saying 'Please'. Your heart hurts a little when you read it.

You know he prefers to call, to hear your voice.

You type back 'what'.

You and him talk but it's mostly him trying to explain again. He asks to meet up, somewhere public so you can be comfortable, and you stare at the screen of your phone.

You take a deep breath, then write out your reply.

[letstalksymphogear]

Symphogear, EP. 6

Last Time on Grand Theft Auto:

Tsubasa recovers from the world’s gayest coma as Hibiki trains her mind while putting aside such silly concepts as “the love of my life” and “literally being with my girlfriend.” After cooling Miku’s paranoia with her brand new washboard abs, Genjuro prepares the team for a pizza run across the city to deliver a dangerously hot pizza pie named Durandal. Chaos emerges as the delivery is intercepted by a rival pizza gang, lead by the nefarious Gremlin known as Yukine Chris. But, before the pizza could be claimed, dedicated pizza deliverywoman Hibiki not only steals it back, but eats it, harnessing the power of the pizza and unleashing cheesy pasta based chaos around the location.

Ryoko is so into it that she taps into her superpowers and protects Hibiki after she passes out. The delivery is considered a failure, and no tip is given.

And so, the journey continues...

Meanwhile, in this weird, tricked out mansion...

Chris meditates on some water metaphors of her own.

“that pacman colored freak took only touching it to activate a cheap ass french sword that gave her weird demon powers and its taken me YEARS to use this dumb stripper outfit and the funny cane that goes with it, what the FUCK man, what even is my life”

“maybe... maybe honeybaked hams ARE that powerful...”

“NO! turkey is the superior meat! it’s healthier, lower in fat, and way more tasty! fuck you! i’ll get my goddamned revenge!”

Chris begins musing about Fine’s motivations to capture Hibiki; during these, we’re treated to some brief image flashbacks of Chris’s life.

Suddenly, those jokes about food are a lot less funny.

It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together as to why this young woman is helping a strange nudist dominatrix spread alien terror across the city of mumblednoises, Japan. She doesn’t really have many an option on the table. It’s either help the weird kinkster with her plans, or die.

Despite everything, she has a high opinion of Fine, for the same reasons someone might have a high opinion of a television show if it were the only show they were ever exposed to. She is deeply afraid of being alone again, because she has lived through such misery that the very thought of existing out in the cold again terrifies the shit out of her.

The Sun rises casually amidst Chris’s thoughts.

“ah shit. it just hit me. i literally have spent the entire night standing here instead of actually going the fuck to sleep. goddamnit.”

On such a devious metaphorical twist, Fine stands behind her as the Sun rises.

“yeah, jokes on you. i couldnt sleep for shit either. turns out, all nude, no blankets? in japan? real bad idea.”

“thats why i decided to GO GOTH, babey! whattaya think? do i give those witchy vibes, huh? real ‘black magic woman’ santana hours? feeling cute, gonna head out with the girls and summon satan in the woods kinda aesthetic looking shit? come on, be real with me. does this not look baller?”

“you look like morticia decided to go to the grocery store to buy some wonder bread, but other than that, its a step up from your usual pussy out attitude, so sure”

“you know i decided to get some brain cells on loan from Brain Cells R Us, and ive been thinking this solomon cane stuff is solomon lame. i dont need this dumb oversized harry potter cosplay prop to get shit done. also, murder is... sorta bad? im still trying to get the brain cell stuff down.”

“i can punch just as good as goody two shoes if not better.”

“lol go do it then champ, im gonna go cut down a forest of trees now”

And so, they both just kinda... stand there.

“QUACK, NEXT SCENE, QUACK”

Meanwhile, Tsubasa is rapidly trying to rehabilitate herself from her wounds like walking like a madman, her IV drip presumably filled with Taco Bell brand Doritos Locos Tacos super spicy nacho cheese. Taco Bell: Live Mas.

“im gonna clear every fucking taco bell in your goddamned memory, kanade”

“think outside the bun! wait, what? that was a taco bell slogan? ah fuck it, im dead. what nerd’s gonna try and correct me?”

“i would, kanade. i am that nerd.”

Tsubasa is hell bent to try and understand Kanade’s simple philosophy of helping others selflessly. Unfortunately, when Kanade died, she took all the brain cells between them in the process, so coming to this epiphany is a work in progress.

“listen its a fucking miracle you are 1. alive and 2. able to have your blood run on the garbage melted plastic taco bell tries to dupe people into believing is cheese so why dont you just lie down and think of better franchises to eat from”

“no! you dont understand! taco bell is a franchise of the PEOPLE! their meals are cheap and filling and- and the chicken quesadillas are of good quality for their price! i promised kanade- my vow to the death. taco bell... ergh... now and forever... i-”

“wait. my gay senses are tingling.”

It’s Hibiki, probably running track with Miku.

“oh yeah... her... i should probably apologize to her. about trying to kill her. and then letting her almost be kidnapped. and just giving her a general hard time about something that wasn’t explained to her in the slightest for months. she’s a good bean.”

Tsubasa proceeds to never canonically apologize to Hibiki throughout the entirety of all 4 seasons of Symphogear.

Look at em run. See, it’s a metaphor, because they haven’t communicated yet and they’re running from their problems! But they’re running towards Tsubasa, who is part of the representative problem these two share! Clearly literary genius.

It’s like someone went halfway into writing an NTR plotline and went “maybe this isn’t a good idea to market our songs on.”

Hibiki is still thinking about her Hellshake Yano moment with Durandal. Mainly how she nearly killed someone with it. Hibiki is very starkly in the “killing is bad, and wrong” camp of morality, a trait currently unique to her that she’ll wind up teaching literally everyone else she meets one way or another.

Some could argue the L stands for Lydian, and they’re wrong. It stands for Lesbian.

“that was one hell of a run, hibiki! im pooped! why dont we go to the locker room and call it a day, have a nice shower and just get some dinn-”

“this is the last straw.

i clean your plates. i cook your food. we eat, shit, shower, and sleep in the same FUCKING area, and this is how you repay me? huh? you think being your wife is easy shit, hibiki? half the damn time you’re running off like clark kent having food poisoning and the other half ive gotta babysit you, the emotional equivalent of a preteen clown, to make sure your life doesn’t self destruct harder than Atlantis sinking into the ocean. im done! i am DONE. im reopening my tinder, im slamming my ass BACK into okcupid, and im gonna date some CUTE ACADEMY GIRLS that treat me BETTER than this ABSOLUTE BETRAYAL OF HEART AND IM NOT CRYING I SWEAR ITS JUST THE SWEAT IN MY EYES AND HIBIKI HOW COULD YOU-”

“oh yeah, sure! hey, lemme just do a few more laps, ive just been feeling judgmental about myself and my figure, you know? gotta push myself further...”

“o-oh yeah, sure. no worries, ill wait for you. love you too, hibiki...”

The girls bathe together, as good friends typically do.

“hey you ever notice the showers here have like, weird psuedo-luxurious minipools to bathe in? like, how rich is this school?”

“whoever made this place is either rich or a pervert. or both, probably!”

Miku remarks that Hibiki has changed since she’s entered Lydian, in a manner most unheterosexual.

“oh FUCK you really DO have washboard abs now! ohhh my god.”

“damn, those abs were heavenly. let’s get pancakes later.”

I won’t screenshot it but something to note is that they actually wear each other’s corresponding underwear colors (or even, if you want to examine more closely, each other’s underwear). Here’s an equivalent scene to give you the mental image.

This is the face of someone who knows what they want and already have it. Such is the power of Kohinata Miku.

Meanwhile, Genjuro comes back from the funeral of the guy the Americans filled violently and with impunity.

“yo that all black look looks baller. i should borrow that look... id look pretty gothy in it.”

“ryoko i sympathize with your sharp, fashionista eye but this was for a funeral, i was paying my respects to the dead. thats the usual dress code.”

“didnt know they updated that. i remember back in my day, we just went in white garments and chanted in latin!”

“shit was fire. literally. lots of funeral pyres.”

“lmao ryoko buddy your larping sessions arent actual history”

“hey dont shit on larping around me. i used to be a professional larper while i was majoring in acting. helped really sell my career when i had to pretend to slay the Dark Lord Jyarloen atop the mountain of skulls in Hargobor after my family was killed by the Dark Army. asshole.”

“haha yeah, larping, thats cool yeah, i do that

i...

i larp.”

“oh yeah? you wanna join my larping session sometime then? we’re gonna do an ancient babylon plot thats inspired by some anime, itll be fun”

“.....................................im super into realism.”

“i know im dressed for a funeral but id like to not part ways with my dignity yet. besides, we’ve got serious shit to talk about. basically, we’re on the verge of getting shitcanned.”

As it turns out, the death of this politician removed the last obstacle of opposition to maintain the 2nd Division, as the average criticism against the 2nd Division is “why are we funding this mystery division when we don’t know what they do”. Of course, the sensible idea for an organization that defeats the Noise is to declassify it, given people of different jobs and positions have physically seen the Symphogear in action, but you know. “Oh no, the other governments will come after us” stick gets shaken.

“im in a union. i know my rights. you’re not taking my acting job here away from me.”

“im not going back to be a preschool teacher. its been ten year. the bites on my ankles still havent healed...”

“yeah man, shit sucks ass. i cant fund my adoption habits if im fired.”

Look at these cinematic parallels. Symphogear truly is a franchise made by someone living in 3030.

“worst part is the new minister is super into america. he’s a... westaboo.”

“a westaboo?”

“westaboo?”

“did he just unironically say westaboo”

“he said westaboo. oh my god. this is the hell timeline.”

“i mean people kept calling me that for worshipping all these fighting flicks so i guess it fit? i dont see the problem here”

Meanwhile, in Lydian Academy...

“so it hit me, right? we’re ALL girls. and we ALL sing. now, humor me a moment. what if... what if we’ve all been recruited to potentially be superheroes... through our singing? like, there’s no coincidence that all this shit happens around us, right? and a famous singer LIVES here? i saw the black cars outside! weird shit is happening here- im not even gonna eat the all you can eat bar anymore!”

“kathy there is literally no such thing as superheroes who sing. this place is more likely to be a organ harvesting op than whatever madness you’re saying”

“what? you need me, a singing superhero, to go stop a problem happening underneath the school, a location meant to recruit young women into potentially becoming fellow crime fighting singers?”

“yeah im too busy poppin’ caps in asses so go kick ass in my place”

“sure!”

“.....................................who ya talkin to, hibiki?”

“the boss! gotta go do a thing again...”

“hibiki, i dont like the fact that capitalism is tearing us apart.”

“you’ve gotta join me in the revolution, hibiki. you. me. luxury automated gay space communism. aint it the dream? share my vision, hibiki. its glorious.”

“n... no...? no gay space communism today? well, what about tomorrow? or the next day? or... maybe the next day? baby steps, you say? but, direction action, hibiki! we’ve gotta strike now!”

“it’s okay hibiki. when i take over the world and destroy all first world government leaders, and unite the globe in my encompassing reign and love... ill make sure to spare you, and be my bride to be.”

“thanks miku. im just not ready yet for the globe to burn in an unending ball of fire as the continents fuse into a new utopia composed of our combined wills. also, ive really gotta go, its genuinely an emergency.”

“for the cause!”

“yes hibiki... for the cause...”

Admittedly, you can see the stages of grief Miku goes through when she sees Hibiki say she can’t join her for pancakes. It’s sad. This side story sucks.

Meanwhile, as it turns out, the problem Hibiki needed to resolve was checking on Tsubasa to see if she hadn’t dissolved into Taco Bell brand hot n’ spicy Tabasco sauce.

“god, cant believe taco bell was closed. now i gotta deliver these lame ass flowers”

“cant wait to get threatened again. wonder what she’ll say. ‘hibiki, i should have killed you when i had the chance.’ or ‘you’re so goddamned weak. i could break your spine with my fingernail’, or some other stuff about metaphors. oh, my stops here”

“HEY BITCH WHATS GOOD-”

“HOLY SHIT”

“you are already”

“dead.”

[caelin-ismycity]

Please tell us more about Tellius ships

god theres a lot of ships with how many bitches there are in this game- like id have to play through the game some more which i plan on doing anyway to write an essay-ass anthology of all the good shit here but for now i can shoot off my faves

ike/boyd:

yall already know i like myself some elihec and one reason is cause of their lil rivalry/best friend relationship yknow- you can look at those losers romantically or not and it’d still be some Good Shit. 

same logic with ike/boyd honestly- especially with there bantering asses in the beginning and generally how boyd tends to think of ike immediately when it comes to finding a sparring partner or just helping him out during their quest with the tri-arrow attack discussed with rolf and oscar.

another scene i found cute was after ike and others disobeyed titania and sought out the bandits alone and when greil is about to rip into ike about disrespecting orders, boyd’s the first one (i think its been awhile since i played that chapter) to step up and take the blame (admitted by him to be pretty out of character which i like to interpret as boyd just being flustered that hes caught caring for ike beyond their competitiveness)

unfortunately, not only is fe9 hard to play legally because of its stupid price, but even if you did sell your soul to buy the game intelligence systems has cursed my household by not allowing ike and boyd to have any support conversations, nor any interactions all together beyond a certain chapter, so ike/boyd is one of the rarest pairs you can like in this series especially considering the most popular ship is ike/soren with the tellius series

ike/ranulf

ike and ranulf meet uhhh god i dont rememebr honestly- but they meet about halfway into the game when ike and co properly become associated with the beast laguz where ranulf, considerably, becomes a reoccurring ally to the greil mercenaries.

couple reasons why i love these two- one being the whole laguz/beorc thing ight (lemme get on that in a sec). i.e., ike is big on joining laguz and beorc together, and ranulf doesnt really seem to mind them (i say ‘doesnt seem to mind them’ because, if i remember right, ranulf has real issues trusting beorc and even tells ike that if he naively trusts people he’ll end up hurt). ergo, id imagine that ike would love to get to know more about the laguz alltogether and ranulf himself (he’s clearly curious considering h is supports with lethe as well). additionally, their C support is fuckin cute as hell with ranulf taking pride in making ike laugh/smile at one of his jokes (which tbh i thought would set the grounds for a lovely af A support but instead i get ranulf calling ike a nitwit for trusting him so easily so thanks intell).

another big moment for me is how ike hardly hesitated to defend ranulf from the other beorcs after he was discovered in that one really racist town (its the one where you get zihark and board nasir’s ship y’all know the one) even if it jeopardized the possibility of them escaping the town quietly (double points for ranulf insisting on ike leaving him alone and ike essentially telling ranulf to fuck off with that shit)

its utter trash that ranulf joins the mercenaries at the very end of the game (maybe chapter 25-26? you get JUST enough chapters to achieve their A support), not to mention he pops in-and-out of the gang’s path to actually talk to ike. but im grateful there’s some content for these two, even if there isn’t as much as i would like

kieren/oscar

again yall know i love that rivalry shit but this time it’s extremely one sided on kieran’s part (oscar more-or-less just dealing with it and not making a fuss about it). but damn if there isn’t potential, especially when you can take kieran’s insistent rivalry as some form of admiration for oscar (not to mention the possibilities of their past with oscar originally working alongside kieran)

double points for kieran’s insistence that oscar come back with him to work as a crimean knight again (obviously more because kieran’s genuinely astonished oscar would willingly work with lowly-payed, unknown, not-pristine mercenaries). you can really just take it as kieran really lowkey missing oscar but being too prideful to admit it

ill also be damned if oscar cooking with kieran/teaching him how to cook wouldnt be the tightest shit to watch; i cant tell if kieran would be too stubborn to let oscar fully mandate what he does, begrudgingly listens to oscar, or is utterly impressed with oscar’s culinary skills and insists that ‘only someone as amazing as his rival would obviously be fit with abilities like that’

kieren/rhys

not exactly phat on my radar but it is cute as hell considering how easily concerned rhys becomes of kieran (and for good reason to the fucker regularly bludgeons himself with an axe and he wrestles bears jesus christ man), so its easy to imagine rhys making the excuse to kind of baby kieran to make sure he isn’t seriously hurt on or off the battlefield to just look/watch him

its also pretty fun to imagine rhys going with kieran when the dumb bitch proudly tells the army he’s about to go bear wrestling and rhys getting to see kieran ;lightly’ clothed to fight a fucking bear

im pretty sure in their A support, rhys tells kieran that if he isn’t more careful then the army’ll lose their most valuable soldier to something as stupid as a self-inflicted axe wound. its obvious that rhys said something along the lines of that (as well as a couple of other things in that support) because he acknowledges kieran’s self importance, but its also cute to imagine that rhys was able to use that fact to his advantage to tell kieran how much he means to himself (bonus points if, alternatively, rhy’s dialogue would follow some shit like ‘I- uh... We can’t lose a soldier as important as you, Kieran.’)

gatrie/shinon

another lowkey one (considering shinon and gatrie are absent for a decent portion of the game post initial chapters), but the one support i did manage to get of them was enough to sell me- cause frankly i find the idea of shinon teasing gatrie about buying them dinner and gatrie just being like “hhrhrum” as he begrudgingly agrees to be endearing; i.e. the sinon mentallity being ‘If you’re going to throw your money at everything, you might as well spend it on something worthwhile’ aka ‘lets just have a nice dinner together instead of you buying some random girl three bouquets of roses’

they also have a pre-planned attack together (albeit quickly mentioned to titania) like cmon they bondin yall they conversin

finally i love how shinon’s taller than gatrie- like this isnt necessarily ship-related i just finally have the opportunity to say it. like shinon could absolutely tease gatrie about it like ‘what did you say you wanted a kiss? ? ? i cant hear you from down there’ and gatrie just playfully punches his arm like ‘bro- dude- cmon please i missed you all day just bend down for two seconds’

i’ve been typing for a while and ive got the attention span of a brick but these are the ships i think of the most. during my second playthrough ill be damned if i dont develop more but feel free to send in more ship shit

[fatathlon]

Adventure Ride

Some pretty big stuff has happened since I last wrote an entry, but for now I’m going to step back to recap a fun ride that I did just before winter hit here.

There’s a great and eclectic group of people that I’ve connected with through the local bike shop, Vermont Bicycle Shop, who are part of the shop’s “adventure club.” It’s not exactly a team, and not exactly a club in the traditional sense, and not exactly anything else.  It’s a somewhat loose collection of people, most of whom hang around the shop fairly frequently, who get together and go on halfway madcap rides that deliberately seek out challenging, weird or nonsensical destinations and routes. The one thing I’ve seen that this ragtag band of cyclists (in the broadest of definitions) all have in common is that bikes are an extension of their identity in one way or another.  Lots of people enjoy cycling; for these folks, the line of distinction between themselves and the bicycle is hard to find.  

I’m the only triathlete in the group, and one of the few with a roadie background, so I amicably bear the brunt of a lot of jokes about aerodynamics and fancy equipment.  I don’t mind.  It’s always good to receive perspective from others, and there’s plenty of opportunity for me to jovially strike back when the mood is right.  

The ride of the day was to be a gravel ride, on dirt roads with quality ranging from “maintained” to what’s known around here as “Class IV.”  To normal people, a Class IV road is something you would normally only see on the Discovery Channel or if you got lost in the woods.  Usually just a vestige of the past and only technically a road, they are swaths of relatively clear space cutting through the remote Vermont forests, littered with rocky glacial remains and leading to places only the hardiest of folk will ever see. To adventure bikers, it just means ‘fun.’

The group gathered at my house, as it was the ideal starting point for this particular loop.  That gave everyone plenty of opportunity to make fun of my brand new Bont triathlon shoes, which I had just gotten fitted since literally tearing the soles off my ancient pair of Garneaus.  Considering it was about 35 deg. F and these shoes are basically open-air slabs of carbon with velcro straps on top (they don’t even have a tongue), they were definitely an unusual choice for the day. They were my only choice, though, apart from putting platform pedals on my bike and wearing hiking boots.  I was too excited to try them out to miss the chance, so I doubled up my socks and stuck some plastic baggies over my toes in between and let the ribbing fly.

We set out, starting on dirt roads and heading further away from civilization as we went.  One of us realized he had a soft tire, but luckily we were riding right by his house so he stopped to swap out his bike (the N+1 rule is widely followed in this group.  I’m an outlier, having a mere two bicycles in my possession). No big deal, and we continued onward.

Some of my favorite parts of the day were when we paused to regroup, and found ourselves in a serene section of the forest, where nobody was around, but there were quiet signs of life if you knew where to look.  A farmer’s field, just through the treeline.  The peripheral lines of a sugarbush down the hill. An abandoned cabin by a pond, once idyllic, now forgotten and reclaimed by the encroaching wilderness.  Artwork on an old barn.

These are the moments that give ‘adventure biking’ its definition for me, personally.  But everyone has their own ideas of what it means, which is part of why it’s such an interesting thing to do.

Our first Class IV section was traversed with great enjoyment, and spilled us back out onto a dive-bombing gravel road that intersected suddenly with a main asphalt town highway.  Brakes were vigorously applied.  Luckily, none failed.

From there, a decision was to be had. Do we continue on the planned route, or do we diverge back into the woods to tackle a serious Class IV section that promised adventure of the hardiest sort, an incredibly technical downhill on terrain that could only be called a ‘road’ if you squinted real hard, were slightly drunk and had never seen a river before?  I had the suspicion that this was the plan of the ride’s organizer (shop owner and mechanic Darren) all along, and that he lured everyone in with the relatively sane route in order to spring the change of tack on them at the fateful moment of divergence.  It wasn’t a far stretch with this group; the decision was all but foregone.  Plus, Darren brought snacks.  So off we went.  To adventure!

Getting to the challenging bit required some more climbing on dirt roads, which was fine by me.  I love climbing, and I love doing it on dirt roads, now that I’m the proud owner of an Orbea Terra, which is basically a carbon frame road bike with almost-all-terrain tires.  I felt great and looked forward to every foot we went up.  

Back into the woods we went, and the challenge was suddenly upon us.  Photographs and videos unfortunately can’t do it justice, and my phone died from the cold before I made it to the bottom, which is where the better perspective would have been provided.  But picture a steep hill in the forest.  Now, make it twice as steep.  Now, rake out all the trees in an 10-foot-wide swath, straight down the hill.  Then erode it with wind and particularly water for about 100 years.  Find all the boulders and rocks under the soil that you can, and leave them there.  Call it a “Class IV” road.  Now get on your bike.

Those riding fat bikes were the only ones to make it down successfully.  The more experienced riders on gravel bikes generally made it about halfway.  Darren made it 3/4 of the way down, displaying excellent bike handling skills, but then missed a line and over he went.  He was certain he’d cracked his frame and damaged his drive train because he landed right on a boulder, but he miraculously evaded consequences.

For my part, I stopped about halfway down and walked.  I knew there was no way I was going to survive the descent without falling, and I didn’t want to break anything - on myself or my bike.  What I hadn’t accounted for was my shoes.  Walking down a mostly-dry glacial riverbed meant I was slipping and stumbling off boulders with every step.  Not exactly the surface a pair of triathlon shoes were meant to walk on.  After I got home later, I photographed the bottoms of my brand new babies and sent the picture to Darren in horror, asking if I had just ruined everything.  Luckily the damage is largely cosmetic.  But I’ll be re-thinking my footwear choices for this kind of ride in the future for sure.

Once we all made it down, across an intersecting stream bed and up a hill on the other side, it was back out onto gravel roads and onward to home.  We had all met a challenge together, survived it and had a blast doing it.  Exactly what an adventure ride is meant to be.

[renaroo]

Twisted Legacy (20/25)

Disclaimer: Transformers and related properties belong to Hasbro Warnings: Canon-typical language and violence, Psychological torture and horror, Post-war politics, Canon divergence/Loose canon, Hospitalization and illness, Cultist indoctrination Rating: T Synopsis: [Canon Divergence from MTMTE and exRID #54] The legacy of the Primes has had a tainted past, one that weighs heavily on Optimus, his supporters, and those who seek the legacy for the future. But as they look forward for themselves and for Cybertron, a darkness looms that threatens to further corrupt the unsteady peace of their planet with its curious claim to be the Hand of Primus himself.

It’s up to Optimus, Windblade, Rodimus, and their teams to try and save all Cybertronians from this mysterious threat and, perhaps, change the future for the better if they can.

A/N: I know there’s been a super long wait and I apologize for that, but in my defense, this ended up being quite a long chapter compared to the others and it’s also the last chapter of Part IV, so hopefully getting some long awaited answers to questions will have been worth the wait. Thank you so much for your patience and your support, guys, it means a lot. We’re only five chapters from the end! It’s so hard to believe!

Special thanks to AntaresofJuly, Isame, squireofgeekdom, Fanatic97, and Catgox for the feedback! 

Part IV: The Right to Lead Chapter 4.4: Primal Power

Brainstorm carefully balanced the wrench on the ends of his digits and waited for it to tilt in either direction. He, of course, knew it wouldn’t as he had created it and therefore it was obviously perfectly balanced, but it went a long way to proving his point to a fellow scientifically minded crewmate.

“There is nothing wrong with the wrench on any comparative, physically acknowledgeable scale,” he concluded as he looked back to Nautica only to have the wrench rudely snatched away from him.

“I told you that before you ran diagnostics on it by hand,” Nautica retorted, shaking the wrench at him in warning. “What I need from you right now is to stop bothering my things during the hours you’re not allowed in the laboratory. It’s not funny anymore, Brainstorm. Actually, it never was, but the patience required to humor you costs too much now.”

“You wound me to the spark,” Brainstorm claimed, hand on his chest. “And besides, with Chromedome more occupied with Rewind than usual and Nightbeat constantly researching something he won’t tell us about and Perceptor taking on more official duties with the Lost Light all in alarm, I literally have nothing to do with all the time I’m not allowed to be in the laboratory!”

Nautica looked highly unimpressed as she crossed her arms and stared at Brainstorm. “That doesn’t make me more sympathetic to you annoying me, Brainstorm. Why don’t you hang upside down until you can think of something better to do.”

Narrowing his optics, Brainstorm crossed his arms and stared back evenly at the Camien. “I’ll have you know I was upside down for at least nine hours earlier and the new perspective I gained was that I needed more time in the lab to do something with all the ideas trying to burst out of my brain processor. Time I have even less of now because of Perceptor’s new duties. Which means my processor is filling even more and even faster without giving me time to do anything with it. Soon I’ll have to delete files so I don’t lose any of my glorious ideas to the clutter!”

“How about you delete some of your centuries dedicated to the timecase to make room for a subroutine that gives you manners?” Nautica asked dryly.

“I was thinking of deleting the files that reminded me why we’re friends to begin with,” Brainstorm snapped back sarcastically.

While Nautica was halfway through a roll of her optics, they were nearly knocked out of the way by Velocity, who was truly allowing her speedster tendencies to show through as she was racing down the hall.

Thinking fast (as always), Brainstorm grabbed Nautica and kept her from being knocked over by her old sorority sister. “Whoa, what’s the lit ignition coil?” Brainstorm called out after the doctor.

More concerned, Nautica pushed off from Brainstorm and began giving chase to the green Camien. “Velocity? What’s the matter?”

“Yeesh,” Brainstorm muttered, dusting himself off after nearly being knocked over from the push. “And she thinks I need an update on my manners? What a joke.” He then looked to see that both the other bots were getting far ahead of him. He wasted no time in giving chase. “Hey, wait! I’m bored, and you’re obviously moving toward something more interesting than my perfectly crafted tools!”

Velocity, who was so frazzled Brainstorm was surprised steam was not being let off by her, looked widely toward Nautica for some kind of explanation for Brainstorm’s interruption. Fortunately the other Camien just shook her head.

“It’s, quite literally, a Brainstorm thing,” Nautica assured her. “Ignore him. What’s the emergency? Is everything okay? Is it the captain?”

Brainstorm felt less emboldened by the last question, though he wasn’t sure anymore if it was because of his concern for the truly bizarre and unnerving behavior Rodimus had put on display for the last few weeks or if it was because all of it still stemmed from the mystery that was Brainstorm’s same spell of forgetfulness and narrowly escaped death.

“Yes? No? Which one?” Velocity answered back in rapid succession.

“Um,” Nautica hesitated, obviously not expecting a full response for each of them.

Fortunately, she still had Brainstorm on her side for the time being. “Is it an emergency worth sounding the ship’s alarm? On a scale of one to ten how not okay are things? And typically we still think of Rodimus as captain, though that’s us Lost Light shenanigans veterans perspective, and I can’t speak for who you guys refer to as captain willy nilly.”

“Rodimus,” Nautica clarified, giving Brainstorm a look for overstepping to which he shrugged.

“I’d rather not alarm the ship, since I’ve been running to get away from the utter nonsense that was the doctoral team we have right now all arguing and angry and accomplishing nothing,” Velocity responded in a huff.

“Well, that is a sign that Ratchet’s back. Though I’m used to him running a tighter hospital bay,” Brainstorm said, holding his chin in thought.  

Velocity sent a look Brainstorm’s way that could freeze anyone’s joints in place before glaring forward again. “Well, personally, I’m not  used to constantly being undermined by colleagues seemingly no matter how much I prove myself and my skills on this ship,” she announced haughtily.

“That’s unfortunate, since that’s pretty much just how the Lost Light functions,” Brainstorm argued. “You wouldn’t believe how many times my genius has been brought into question by things like realistic expectations and ethical standards. Real nonsense.”

“Velocity, I understand you’re upset, and I’ll be happy to use my wrench to knock some sense into anyone who questions you as a doctor,” Nautica assured her friend while keeping pace. “But you’re not heading in the direction of the medbay or Swerve’s, which I’d think were the best options under the circumstances.”

“You’re right, I’m not heading to either,” Velocity answered, looking seriously toward the two of them. “I’m apparently heading to the shipping dock.”

“You’re leaving?” Nautica gasped.

“Well this seemingly got extreme fairly fast,” Brainstorm noted.

“Only if I can’t convince my patient not to,” Velocity answered. Once she saw the perplexed looks on the other two’s faces she nervously scratched at her cheek. “You see, while the other doctors were measuring neural nets for some reason beyond me, I knew that no matter what changes he’s undergoing, Rodimus is still Rodimus and I fully anticipate him doing something unwarranted and dangerous to all the hard work we’ve put into repairs.”

“Is it really necessary to have a medical license for that assessment? If so, I should be a surgeon general at this moment,” Brainstorm joked.

“How do you know for sure he’s going to the docks, though?” Nautica asked curiously. “That still seems like a leap of logic.”

“Oh, I put a tracker on him during his last checkup,” Velocity answered nonchalantly. “Turns out my assessment was right but I underestimated Rodimus’ patience before going utterly reckless.”

“In your defense, no one would have believed he was capable of patience or a lack of recklessness,” Brainstorm continued to rib before Nautica threw an elbow back toward his chest to get him to stop.

“Is that ethical, Velocity?” Nautica asked worriedly.

“By medical standards or by Lost Light standards?” Velocity asked just as they turned the corner and were met by Nightbeat.

“Ah, good, you’re already on your way,” the detective said before turning quickly on his heels and leading the charge toward the docks.

“Wait, how are you already in on this?” Brainstorm demanded.

“Deductive reasoning,” Nightbeat answered without even looking bak toward them. Which neither of the Camiens took offense to but Brainstorm sure did.

“As a scientist, I have to say, I don’t think that that term means what you think it means,” Brainstorm announced just before they pushed through the dock doors and were met by the very surprised looks of Drift and Rodimus who were by a very much not the Rodpod ship. Much to the shock of anyone who remotely knew Rodimus.

“What the hell,” Rodimus stated flatly more than asked.

Drift had a much harsher glare and his hands resting on the hilts of his swords. “If this is an attempt to stop us from going to Cybertron, I’m afraid you’ll need to fail your mission.”

“Huh, Cybertron. I would have originally guessed it was Eukaris you were going to investigate, but leaping straight to the source of the greater picture is a much more thought out idea,” Nightbeat said resoundly.

“You’re not going anywhere without medical support,” Velocity said, waggling a finger at a perplexed looking Rodimus. “I have put far too much work into your recovery for you to halfway through it decide to throw yourself in danger without backup.”

Still looking very confused, Rodimus glanced toward Drift who seemed to only share his confusion with a shrug.

“And I’m part of the Rod Squad, so consider me offended that I wasn’t asked to come along to begin with,” Nautica announced, walking toward the ship.

Night beat and Velocity were not far behind, though Nautica did stop long enough to look back at Brainstorm curiously. “Are you coming, too?”

“Absolutely,” Brainstorm said, coming forward. “You know how bored I have been here. And let’s be honest, if I’m left without you three to annoy consistently, I’ll just be looking for answers to these questions myself.”

“What about you getting arrested,” Rodimus asked Brainstorm critically. “You’re supposed to not set pede on Cybertron aren’t you?”

“I don’t think any of us are,” Drift reminded Rodimus.

“Looks like we’re all lawbreakers together,” Brainstorm concluded. “What else is new?”

Rattrap could all but feel the scorn being sent his way as he ventured through the capital’s halls.

It went without saying that he had never really been popular, being the voice of Starscream, Supreme Ruler or not, did little to help anybot’s image of course. But there was a uniquely traitorous ring to the murmurs that surrounded a former Autobot who sided with the most hated of former Decepticons.

Being an essential source of information was the only power that Rattrap could use to keep himself alive in the current environment on Cybertron. And yet he was proving time and again to be woefully inaccurate.

The entire Council of Worlds doubting and eventually verbally siding against his testimony despite him being among their ranks most certainly didn’t help matters there. 

As such, even Rattrap’s usefulness to Starscream himself was being brought into question. And if he wasn’t useful to Starscream then, well, it was questionable how much use someone who knew too many secrets for his own good could be at all.

Being summoned to the laboratories just beneath the capital building by Starscream out of the blue, after a much noted distancing between them, seemed ominous. And it would have been an excellent time to let some friends know where he was going and who for, if Rattrap had had any friends. But alone and with only his caution to look after him, Rattrap scurried to his summoning.

A task which led to one of the biggest processor halts in his long lifetime.

“You, uh… called for me, Supreme Ruler…?” Rattrap asked with uncharacteristic timidness, leaning through partially opened doors and seeing the familiar frame of Starscream himself. A sight that did not take his attention for long as Starscream was — much to the rat’s relief — far from being alone.

The Prime was there, intimidating and large as ever, and beside him was Delegate Windblade which seemed like an obvious companion though somehow it still managed to take the beastformer by surprise considering all the wild news going around.

Not too far from them were the ever busied scientists of Wheeljack and Jetfire, scanning somebots in a transmatter scanner which obscured Rattrap’s view of them. Not that he needed to know exactly who the other bots were to know that he was completely surrounded by witnesses so the likelihood of getting the brunt end of Starscream’s anger at the moment seemed highly unlikely. So… probably not indefinite prison sentencing?

“Rattrap,” Starscream called, only tilting his head back slightly to acknowledge his right hand bot’s entrance. “You have been in some hot oil for the last few days in thanks to incorrectly identifying your attackers as some fellow Cybertronians, correct?”

“Well, I never called them attackers per se, just said they were painted in a whole hubabaloo like part of those crazy cultists and seemed to be working on this Error-screw-loose’s side ’til the very last minute when they pulled my aft out of the proverbial energy fire.” He hesitated, remembering that the conclusiveness of the description had been his exact undoing before the Council. “Eh… allegedly.”

Starscream didn’t seem moved nor did he seem altogether that curious about Rattrap’s questionable story. His full attention seemed to be on the scanners.

“If you saw these bots again, could you identify them?” Starscream asked sharply.

Still not catching on, Rattrap shrugged. “Why sure. But last time I did, everybody got their circuits in a twist ‘cuz they didn’t like what I had to say,” he reminded them all. When he noticed Optimus and Windblade’s glares, he flinched back slightly. “Eh, no offense or nothing to present company, of course.”

“Scan’s are complete,” Jetfire announced, sounding baffled. “And if I didn’t see the results myself… Well…”

“I know, I wouldn’t believe it either,” Wheeljack agreed, turning the transmatter off and allowing it to open with a hiss. “Starscream, they’re telling the complete truth, just like Windblade was. Spark signatures, energon grades — the whole kit and kibble’s exactly what they say. They’re who they say they are.”

“Who says? What’s going on?” Rattrap asked before stepping all the way through the door.

When the doors opened and the two bots stepped out from the scanners, Rattrap’s jaw nearly unhinged itself to drop far enough to express his disbelief.

Standing before them was none other than Windblade and Rodimus — the exact same black and red paint jobs that Rattrap had seen on them in the sewers before they pulled their puff-of-smoke disappearing act — the same wear and tear on their large frames. The same everything from what Rattrap had seen before.

Just to make sure he could believe his own optics, Rattrap glanced back to the part of the room where Windblade stood with the Prime, then he looked to where she stood with Rodimus. There were differences, but they were both obviously the same Camien and they were both obviously existing in the same room at the same time.

“Holy Pit,” Rattrap gasped, grabbing the edges of his head. “What is going on?”

“Supposedly time travel,” Starscream answered sourly, crossing his arms. “I despise the concept.”

“Yeah, well, I despise the practice of it,” Rodimus spat back at him before looking back to the scientists. “Since you’re done proving who we are I’d appreciate having it back now, thank you.”

“Right,” Wheeljack answered, going to the side and returning with, to Rattrap’s complete shock, looked like a completed Matrix, and then timidly handed it to Rodimus.

The supposed time traveler then opened his chest — a far broader space than the Rodimus who had been with them in the medical wing just a short time ago — and placed the holy relic in place like it had always belonged there. And once it was locked, he closed his chest as if the maneuver had been nothing, letting out a quick vent of relief once it was done.

“You still have not disclosed how the Matrix is brought back to its whole,” Optimus Prime then said lowly. “Considering that currently mine still remains in parts after… Rodimus told me he used up the half which I had given him.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Rodimus-apparent promised. When he received looks of disbelief he held up his hands. “Optimus is the one who told — er, tells — me the story someday so… I have confidence in you, Big Bot.”

The red-and-black Windblade then placed a hand on the chest of Rodimus to stop him and looked to the rest of the room intently. “I know there are probably many questions which you all have for us, but we both have to be fairly cautious in what we’re ready to tell you of your futures or not. Even what we’re doing right now is of great risk and only because we are filling in the roles as I remember them being three million years ago.” She then shared a long glance with her past self, which was just about enough to make Rattrap’s optics spin out of socket.

Rattrap shook his head. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, let’s take it back a step or two here, folks,” he called out, stepping forward. “You’re wanting to tell us that you’re time travelers from three million years in the future? Here to… what? Fulfill a literal self-fulfilling prophecy? Excuse me for having a bit of a difficult time swallowing this.”

Rodimus-apparent crossed his arms and looked annoyed at Rattrap. “This is why I didn’t want to save him, Windblade.”

“But you already did save him, Prime,” she reminded him.

At that the Rodimus-apparent groaned and rolled back his head, giving Rattrap a good look at the deep, dark scarring on the right side of his faceplate — matching up almost exactly with what injuries the Rodimus on trial had shown.

“See, this is exactly what I meant about hating time traveling,” he professed.

“What the Pit,” Rattrap continued in sheer amazement.

“Enough of all this,” Starscream said sourly, pointing toward the time displaced mechs. “Rattrap, do these bots seem like a closer match to the ones you saw within Error’s cult down in the sewers?”

Full alert, Rattrap looked wide eyed from the two mystery mechs then to Starscream before nodding rapidly. “Yeah, yeah, yeah! I’d bet my spark on it, Lord Starscream. This is them! No doubt!”

“That’s what I needed to hear,” Starscream said loftily. “Windblade — our Windblade — you’re off the hook officially. I want these two arrested, unless you have an objection to that, Prime.”

“I do,” both Optimus and the red-and-black Rodimus said at the same time.

The two then looked awkwardly at each other as if they were utterly startled by the other answering.

“You can’t do that,” the time displaced Windblade announced, walking toward Starscream. “The fewer bots who know about the distortion of time, the better. You must understand, us being in this time is a great risk to all of Cybertron and the Council of Worlds’ futures. It is not a decision we made lightly or,” her eyes glanced back to her younger self, “without some precedent, as you can imagine.”

“If it’s so dangerous to interrupt time as we know it, then why do it at all?” Jetfire asked.

“Oh, just felt the need to make a few failed experimental offshoot universes in my Primacy. I missed doing it on the Lost Light so much,” Rodimus answered in full sarcasm.

“Because your current problems are not entirely of your own time,” Windblade answered more accurately. “They’re of ours… We are not the only one who have interfered with your time by going back ourselves. The one you all know as Error is using the technology we have to try and enforce his views of religious Primal Purity on the past and prevent the Peaceful Reconciliation of our time. To prevent the Exchange and thus prevent the diversification of the Cybertronian races again.”

The current Windblade put a hand to her spark chamber. “All of those things… they sound wonderful… Why would anyone not want them?”

“Well, world peace comes at too high of a price when you’re a bigot,” Rodimus declared flatly.

“I have yet to hear a single reason I should not go through with arresting the both of you for endangering all of space-time and apparently providing technology to a terrorist organization,” Starscream said haughtily. “In other words, what are you proposing to do for me and my Cybertron.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t be obvious to you all now,” the older Windblade sighed, putting a thoughtful hand to her chin. “But it’s very much within your interests that we stay here, Lord Starscream.”

Current Windblade physically recoiled. “Did I just willingly call him Lord Starscream?” she asked rhetorically.

“One of Error’s main objectives beyond just destroying the line of succession of the Primacy is to destroy the leader responsible for the new Golden Age of Cybertron,” Rodimus continued, though the look on his face made it seem as though every word was painful. “That means… well, it means killing you, Starscream. Assassinating you will prevent you from accidentally falling into world peace.”

Rattrap joined the entire room at looking at Starscream in utter shock, though no face was more stunned than Starscream’s own.

“Me?” he got out before a sly smile came to his lips. “Do tell.”

Drift stayed in the back of the ship, allowing the others to handle navigating them to Cybertron and past any of security measures or blockades that Starscream and his Council of Worlds might have had prepared for them. By staying in the back, he stayed closer to Rodimus and was able to keep an eye on his closest friend and see the lackluster glow of his optics as Rodimus scratched at the temporary paint on his bare replacement shell.

He was still himself, down to his spark. Drift could feel Rodimus’ field no matter how much he tried to assert that he was Hot Rod again.

What others often forgot about them was that Drift had been there with the Wreckers when they had Hot Rod among their ranks, and he had been there after the Primacy itself was saved by Rodimus’ selfless actions and Optimus renamed him from that day forward.

In those moments, so much unlike any time before or since, Drift had felt a complete change in Rodimus’ spark signature and onew that the feeling he had spent so much of his life looking for was there. That the Prime he knew would lead them into their Golden Age, that caused the same vibrations of his spark as the great swords of the Circle of Light managed, was in the tiny speedster from Nyon. Even if no one else in the cosmos could see it yet.

Which made it just that much more painful to see his friend in the confused, angry, and hurt state that he was in.

Looking around to make sure that the others were a good enough distance away to not overhear, Drift glanced back to Rodimus more seriously and interrupted their silence. “Why Nyon?” he asked lowly.

“It’s on my mind,” Rodimus replied shortly.

“That could be Shadowplay,” Drift warned cautiously. “It could be a trap. It could be anything.”

“If it is, then that’s just more of a reason for us to have to go,” Rodimus answered. “Because it’s on my mind. Because it still makes me feel sick, like energy went bad in my fuel tank or my coolant ran dry. Because I feel sick about it, but I don’t feel that way toward any other bad things I’ve done.” His optics focused on Drift’s face. There was something haunting about how one eye remained untouched while the other was wide and circular without form thanks to the damage inflicted on Rodimus’ faceplate. “And I think I’ve done a lot of things to feel guilty about but don’t. Haven’t I?”

That was, without a doubt, a loaded question, but Drift was not one to let himself go untested.

“There is not a single mech among all of us who couldn’t say the same, Rodim… Hot Rod,” Drift replied gently. “Autobot, Decepticon — By Primus, it seems the more I learn of our colonies and their worlds the more damaged and unclean their own hands seem to be in matters, too. We wear the scars of a race bent on war and disarray. It is unthinkable that any of us could know peace. Let alone within ourselves.”

Rodimus looked off again, scratching at his chipped paint. “Why have you stayed friends with me?” he asked coldly. “Why would anyone still follow me? You all tell me that my processor’s got its wires all crossed and wrong now, but whenever I say that I’ve caused death and destruction, no one can argue with me. At that point, he even cares about the specifics of exactly what I am or am not guilty of. And why would someone I’ve been so terrible to feel they can still be my friend and expect anything different whatsoever?”

A little surprised, Drift tilted his helm. “You mean you… feel guilty about me?” he asked.

“About as much as Nyon,” he confessed, squeezing his good hand tightly into a fist. “Though… it doesn’t feel as new or fresh as the sickness with Nyon.”

Drift shifted, never losing sight of Rodimus as he reached out and placed a firm hand on Rodimus’ good shoulder. “What you’re feeling? The way it makes you sick when you know something’s wrong? That’s the reason that even though you make mistakes, even though sometimes it hurts, we believe in you. We believe in you because those mistakes give you a chance to learn and to understand all of us and our mistakes better than any leader Cybertron’s had before.”

Rodimus finally looked back at Drift. “Before… before all of this? Did… Did I at least apologize—“

They both lurched forward as the ship began to break through the atmosphere of Cybertron. The conversation had to wait.

“We’re coming in on Nyon, Rod—Hot— Sir!” Nautica announced from the front of the ship.

“Using my shortcut!” Brainstorm asserted.

After a moment, Drift vented sharply and squeezed Rodimus’ shoulder again before getting up. “Do you have any specific idea what we’re looking for at Nyon?” he asked his leader.

“That sort of preplanning isn’t usually how I do things,” Rodimus answered, accepting Drift’s hand to help him get on his feet.

“For future reference,” Drift chuckled, “the honesty is a good change. You should keep it up.”

“Wow,” Velocity muttered, opening the hatch and looking out into the rusted, old ruins of the once prosperous city. “It’s… completely gutted.”

“I never saw it before the War, it was always like this to me,” Brainstorm replied, following the Camiens off the ship.

“I visited it once,” Nightbeat told them, scratching at his cheek. “It honestly wasn’t much back then either. But it was filled to the optics in peddlers and shock jocks.”

Years since his last charge and Drift still couldn’t help but flinch at the slang.

“They were all still Cybertronians,” Rodimus declared lowly as he followed the crew off the ship. “They were lives. And they deserved better than—“

Drift was following Rodimus off the ship closely, protectively even, which made his view of the event all the more stunning and unbelievable.

The moment Rodimus’ pede hit the grounds of Nyon, there was a shift in the energy around the whole abandoned city. There was an enormous surge — like the plates themselves were opening up to the damaged mech. it was a distantly familiar sensation to what Drift had witnessed before, though it had been ages ago, at the very earliest stages of the Decepticon rebellion.

Then the ground opened up to a slow, but growing burn of energy and light, miles wide, unbelievable and real. Something that hadn’t been seen in ages.

“It’s…” Velocity gasped.

“A Hot Spot,” Drift completed. He looked at Rodimus in wonder. “You… you were sensing a Hot Spot. Somehow you knew—“

“No, I didn’t,” Rodimus tried to defend, though Drift could not imagine why he would be reluctant to accept the praise.

When Rodimus turned around, he was surrounded by concerned looks from everyone who had traveled with them from the Lost Light, and it was the sort of thing that he obviously was not interested in. His face turned into a snarl and he vicious waved everyone off.

“It’s not the reason we’re here!” he growled out.

Drift looked on in amazement. “Rodimus—“

“It’s Hot Rod!” Rodimus spat.

“Sir,” Velocity interjected. “You just used your right arm again! You were able to move it, the neural net hasn’t been damaged after all! Look! It must have been psychosomatic!”

“Psycho-what? What are you talking about?” Rodimus demanded before glancing down to the once more loosely hanging arm at his side. Rather than disappointment or outrage however, a look of complete terror came across his face as he saw that from the palm up, his arm was producing a red hot flame. Instinctively, he tried to back away from his own appendage with a yell of shock and disgust, but rather than get him anywhere, he merely smacked into Drift’s side.

Without a second’s thought, Drift caught onto Rodimus’ shoulders and held him up. “It’s fine, just concentrate. Think of turning it off.”

“I-I can’t,” Rodimus stammered.

“That’s okay, you usually burn through your fuel fairly fast when you use your outlier ability,” Drift reminded him calmly. “We’ll just use some of our reserve energon once it’s out.” Drift then looked intently toward Velocity. “We do have supplies of additional energon, don’t we?”

“What kind of doctor do you think I am? Of course we do,” Velocity said with a long suffering sigh of annoyance. “Even when Ratchet and First Aid aren’t around, I swear.”

Brainstorm held a hand to his chin. “That’s fascinating, I never knew that about Rodimus’ outlier ability. I bet you if I could run a few tests on him using it I could fix up whatever it is that’s causing the overabundance of fuel loss.”

“But why is he suddenly scared of fire?” Nightbeat asked. “Is it something to do with Nyon—“

“What about this Hot Spot? What are we supposed to do with all these sparks? They need formation, we need to call someone — this is a new generation of our species!” Nautica tried to remind them all.

All at once Rodimus pushed off from Drift and slung his arm again, finally causing the flames to go out. “Everyone shut up I’m right here! And it’s not me causing this Hot Spot, I didn’t come here because I sensed it, we’re here because… I remember it — this is where I fragged it. I sent everything to straight to the Pits!”

Drift felt his spark clench. “Rodimus, don’t say that. I wasn’t there at Nyon — none of us were, and none of us can pretend to know what it must have been like for you. But you can’t be guilty about a decision you had no choice in. Believe me, I know about rightful guilt. The choices I’ve made… what I live to redeem are beyond anything you’ve done—“

“Drift, shut up!” Rodimus snapped angrily, looking at him wildly. “I’m not talking… I am talking about what I did to Nyon, but I’m also remembering… I remember what I did that caused the war, that broke everything.”

Everyone grew silent in their shared confusion, a few glances wavering between each other. And Drift was no exception. He looked at his friend with complete and utter befuddlement.

“Rodimus, there was already a war before Nyon. You were one of the Freedom Fighters, you should know—“ Nightbeat began.

“No, I started the War,” Rodimus continued, looking at everyone with an expression of shock of his own. “I led him… I showed him where and… It was me. I should’ve guard it, it wasn’t ready to be found by anyone. It shouldn’t have been used the way it was… and I…” He vented loudly and let his shoulders slump, almost in resignation. “I… I led Orion Pax to the Matrix of Leadership. I restarted the true Primal Line again. It wasn’t time. It wasn’t what Primus wanted.”

The babbling was all but incoherent to Drift and from the looks the others were giving, it was likewise incoherent to them, but a distant, loud clap seemed to disagree.

They all turned, Drift with his swords at the draw. And to Drift’s dismay they were met by the large, looming image of the terrorist who had been on all the screens of Cybertron during the attacks, the mech responsible for attacking their captain and crew.

The large mech Error was clapping, his red eyes boring down on Rodimus in particular.

“At last, my message is interpreted,” Error announced lowly as his cultish members began revealing themselves from hiding as well.

“How did they hide their EMF fields and spark signatures from us?” Drift growled out.

“I don’t know. I’ve been working on some kind of dampener that would help cloaking more but I’ve barely been able to tinker with it thanks to my lack of lab access!” Brainstorm announced.

“You,” Rodimus snarled savagely. “I remember you.”

“You should be starting to remember a lot, my Prime,” Error said with a strangely soft tone, almost as if some remote fondness existed between them.

“Your… Prime?” Nautica asked in confusion.

“Rodimus Prime was my Prime, before I saw Primus’ guidance for myself,” Error announced turning his hands over so the palms faced upward, measured flames burned out from them. “Now I shall make sure you will be my Prime no more.”

“What the hell is going on?” Brainstorm squawked.

“Someone teach this guy how to keep his tenses straight,” Nautica attempted to say in light humor.

“No, don’t you get it?” Nightbeat asked, as if that meant anything to the rest of them. “The tense confusion, the technology beyond even our own, the way he and his cult members seem to disappear and reappear at random?”

“Spell it out, Nightbeat!” Drift ordered, gripping his swords harder as he tried to estimate their odds.

“These guys are from the future. Or a future where Rodimus is a Prime!” Nightbeat exclaimed.

“A future that shall never be again!” Error roared before charging for them.

[odilekuronuma]

Magi: What went wrong?

This is in the same vein as the Berserk post, but you’ll find that  it differs wildly from it, since 

A- the problems that Magi is facing are totally different from Berserk’s. 

and spoiler alert 

B- Berserk is still good. Whereas Magi isn’t.

No use beating around the bush. The quality of storytelling in the main manga at least has declined dramatically, to the point that i really don’t see the point in reading it anymore, not even for closure. It really feels like Ohtaka doesn’t try anymore, that she completely dropped the ball.

And I will try to give a justification to this claim. And as usual I’ll try to be as unbiased as possible.Also this might very well be my last Magi related post, because as I just said I don’t plan on catching up anymore, I really don’t care about the ending, which saddens me of course since I devoted a large amount of my time discussing it on various sites ad nauseum.

So if you came here because of Magi then I really am sorry, but I’ll try to make this one worthwhile. 

In order to figure out what went wrong, we have to ask ourselves what are the strengths of Magi. Magi’s strengths as a somewhat unconventional shounen were: the sense of adventure, the comedy, the politics, the plot which mostly made sense and of course the characterization.So let’s go over each one.

I- The adventure

The first 100 chapters of Magi were filled with adventure, which in Magi comes mainly in the form of dungeon diving. Even if the action scenes themselves aren’t perfect, and in general they’re not Ohtaka’s forte, it still is that the adventure was one of the main components of what made Magi so appealing. But quickly we saw Ohtaka moving away from that, and even the World exploration arc couldn’t save the sense of adventure, since dungeon diving was no longer a thing. Furthermore it managed to divide the main cast, and as such a good chunck of the interactions between them were lost, and back then a lot of focus was devoted to Magnostadt, so it doesn’t feel like the attention was divided equally between Aladdin, Alibaba and Mor.

Why is adventure so important? Well it is after all a shounen manga, many of them feature some sense of adventure, with series like OP being the prime example of that. And it’s not like Ohtaka simply ran out of ideas for adventure, she could have had any other real dungeon (Belial isn’t the norm for dungeons) or she could have explored some of the nations that were only mentioned briefly in the manga or the artbook, but nope. And I can attribute it partially to the fact that she got too focused on the politics.

II- The comedy

Not every shounen has to feature comedy, but most if not all of them do. Magi’s comedy was one of my favourites, but I do realize that it can be rather personal, and not two people will find the same joke funny. Nevertheless the comedy serves mostly to lighten the mood, which is very important when you’re having arcs after arcs of very dramatic stuff. 

Sadly while the first 100 chapters featured a good deal of it, the tone got much more serious, and a lot of the comedy was lost through the arcs starting from Magnostadt. And in recent years, at least in the main manga,the jokes all came at Alibaba’s expenses, and the running joke about him not having a girlfriend became old quickly.

But some might not find it necessary to have comedy at all in their manga, especially Japanese humour which isn’t always appreciated by everyone, to which I say it really is missing the point. The point is not to just feature random jokes, it’s more about finding the right tempo and the balance between serious and non serious moments. Once you do that you’ll find it’s easier to keep the readers interested.

III- The politics

Ah the meat of this whole post. The politics. Usually I see them as Magi’s forte, Magi is unconventional because of it, because you’ll find that everywhere else Ohtaka does follow the shounen tropes, sometimes to the letter. 

Magi is always regarded as different because of it, which sure is refreshing, because as it stands Magi isn’t so much about the fights, and more about the politics. And while Ohtaka has always had some degree of it ever since the beginning, there used to be more balance between the politics and the adventure and shouneny(is that even a word?) aspects.

But around halfway through the manga, the politics has started to overshadow everything else. The problem is not just the fact that the balance between action and politics was lost, but the fact that the politics themselves aren’t that good. A prime example of that is the Kou civil war and everything that lead to it. 

More than just the politics not being good, it even doesn’t pay off. Case in point with the latest arc in Magi. Alibaba and co going to the Sacred Palace and trying to argue with Sinbad, only for the latter to be fucked over by David. And we go from a situation where politics seem to get somewhere, to straight shounen mindless fighting,wtf.Can’t get someone to agree with you? Fight them.It happened in the Kou Civil war,  And that is literally what happened with Sinbad, but also now with David.

 So the politics don’t seem to pay off, because of that it doesn’t seem to me it warrants having so much focus given to it.All of that discussion and bringing arguments and trying to convince someone, usually the villain, don’t seem to work. So why devote so much time to it, when apparently you can just beat someone senseless?

I’m fine with having some degree of politics, but it shouldn’t overshadow the rest, and considering it’s not even some clever politics, but sometimes it literally feels like someone just talking out of their ass (literally each time with Aladdin) then you’re simply alienating it.

IV- The plot

With each manga or any work really, the plot needs to be somewhat consistent. Meaning that each plot twist would have to be somewhat logical, but with Ohtaka it has been rather nonsensical especially as of late.

The plot seems to be all over the place, and that Ohtaka changes her mind all the time, as much as she’s changing underwear maybe. There are various instances of the plot having twists just for the sake of having them, and I think it all started with Alma Torran and the Arba twist. Even if we argue that it was ambiguous, the fact that David was never so much as hinted at, and yet have this much importance, pretty much came out of nowhere.Now an author can always create a character if he wants to, but the mere fact that David has pretty much manipulated everyone, and for the longest time Al Thamen were thought to be the villains yet turned out to be pawns, is nothing short of being mindboggling.

And his prophetic writing doesn’t help, it gave some exposition about certain plot points that weren’t even hinted at at that moment. Basically it feels like Ohtaka decided to make a new villain out of scratch, perhaps because Al Thamen’s motivation just doesn’t seem to have been that strong. Because even if we argue that they had some legitimate reason to be pissed at Solomon, it certainly doesn’t explain why they were dead set on destroying the new world. So their position there is less legitimate, and as such they come off as weak, cliche villains. And David is also as cliche as they can get.

And the last arc features a good amount of plot twists just for the kicks of it. Oh Sinbad is dead, nope he’s not. David became Sinbad’s bitch, nope it isn’t and David has been manipulating him all the time. See what I mean?

V- The characterization

While Magi offers a good deal of characters you can sympathize with, and they all have some colourful personalities, it really is that the characterization isn’t always top notch, especially in the last arc. I always had reservations about characters like Alibaba or Kouen, because for the former he seemed for the longest time to not have grown as much, and basically he did nothing. And the for the latter, just all around being a hypocrite who denied Hakuryuu, even though he himself didn’t want to be a king.The Alma Torran folks especially were pretty immature, so someone like Solomon really came off as a brat who thought he could fix things, but just made them worse. And while he realized his mistake, it was too late and we haven’t seen or heard of him much since, to really understand where he came from and what he learned from that experience.

And the prime example of the poor handling of the characterization is Sinbad himself. Yes, while it was predictable he’d want to make himself God at one point (and it’s not sure he succeeded) it still is that his visit to the Sacred Palace, and even before that saw his character being handled in the most horrible way. Instead of giving him more reasons to become God, and his experiences as a human having a bearing on the situation, Ohtaka simply chalked it up to him just being “greedy”. Even afterwards when he seems to have finally come to an understanding with Alibaba and co, he seems to side with David instead, out of the blue, just because they share the same fate? It looks like Sinbad can’t make up his mind, or even that he’s a jerk.

And let’s not even talk about the fact that he legitimately wanted to orchestrate a genocide, which if you read SnB would be very difficult to swallow, considering how Sinbad reacted to the villagers getting slaughtered on Barbarossa’s orders, and also how deeply he was touched by the destruction of Sindria 1.0 which is nothing short of being a genocide.

So yes the characterization has been especially disappointing.

Conclusion

So Magi’s main issues have to do with the story itself, the nonsensical characterization, and the fact that Ohtaka uses plot twists as often as possible to try to garner some interest, but it just feels like she’s going  with whatever she likes atm, and changing her mind all the time.

Other issues pertain to the lack of balance  between various aspects of the manga that made its appeal, or even scrapping them off completely. And I’m sure there’s other issues I haven’t talked about.

There is also too much focus on the pairings and the romance, which not only is divisive, but it just doesn’t seem to be happening at the right time-coughAlimorcough.While shounens aren’t exactly known for featuring romance, sometimes it just doesn’t seem warranted, and it is downright happening at the wrong time, which as I previously pointed out greatly divided the fandom. And trust me the last thing you’d want to see if a forum blowing up due to Alibaba and Mor getting together too early, or even hinting at the possibility of Aladdin and Kougyoku having something going on, which it did.

So based on all these facts, I’m tempted to say that Magi is NOT what it used to be, it is NOT in any way shape or form good, that Magi greatness we experienced in the first half of the manga is mostly gone. I can chalk it up to a few things, including the fact that Ohtaka could be pressured by her editor to change plot points which she has done in the past and is prolly still doing. But mainly I think Ohtaka simply gave up, and can’t wait to finish her story, which as you know might end prematurely, since I think she could have explored way more things since she hasn’t shown all of the countries in the NW or most of them. And with the possibility of parallel universes she could still have the story go on for longer than that, but instead the manga is ending. 

And it sure feels like she has stopped trying overall. Of course this is my opinion and you might not agree with it, but that doesn’t invalidate it.

Thanks for taking the time to read my Magi posts so far, and I hope you can continue to read some of my posts even if they’re not Magi related.