#i have a whole loose idea of a thing for a visual novel where he gets that but that requires more effort than i can afford to expend atm

[corvidmasters]

my favorite thing about arjuna's character has always been that he's so upright he paradoxically cannot believe that he's upright at all. from his refusal to accept imperfections in his actions and thought processes, to his deep-rooted fear of disappointing people and being discarded and unloved if they see him being too flawed, to panicking about being "caught" to the point where he has some extreme and violent contemplations (likely a product of the violence he's known throughout life)...it's all very human and relatable.

i hope one day he will appear in a work as the sole servant to a sole master that has their own character and can actually grow alongside him. i do wonder if they've refrained from this so far because he's most marketable when "we" are that master for him in fgo (need that yume money). But maybe someday. The Miracle will happen.

[kimbapisnotsushi]

managers? managers. let's go!!

(aka kennedy made an excellent excellent post and i realized I WAS PART OF THE PROBLEM so now we have miyagi manager headcanons bc i don't do nearly enough for them . . . also have a healthy side of runayachi)

runa feels like soft synth pop and slow sweet indie music and makes playlists to show her love, so while yachi definitely does not understand the significance of getting a playlist from her the rest of johzenji does!!

she's in charge of the aux cord when they hit the road for games and the team always has the best time jamming out together even if they have no volume control and annoy every car within a five mile radius

(also if you remember my post where higashi and narita bond over playlists? this is totally where higashi gets it from)

speaking of which i think yachi is pretty oblivious when it comes to someone actively trying to flirt with her, especially if it's not in a way she recognizes from shoujo manga LMAAAO

it's because she always thought she was in the background!!! character b!!!! a tree!!! she doesn't think that stuff would happen to her!!! she reads high school romance manga and recognizes the obvious stuff when it happens (i.e. hinata grabbing her hand and pulling her through the city on a mad dash) but it's a SURPRISE bc why would it happen to HER!!!! she doesn't think anyone would be interested in her enough, and definitely would not flirt in ways she's not familiar with!!!

so basically runa is in for a hell of a time trying to show yachi she likes her without saying it

runa got convinced to sign up as team manager when misaki caught her crouching outside the gym one day bc she was trying to figure out a way to repay jiri and higashi for helping her catch her dog when he'd gotten loose during a walk the other day

otherwise runa would be in the music club with her mad piano/keyboard skills

sometimes misaki wonders if she took something away from runa because runa really is talented and would probably thrive in music club and she always seems so anxious with the team (they can be a bit much, she knows) and she tells runa that it's okay for her to leave not knowing that it would break her entire heart

is runa not wanted??? did she do something wrong??? did they not like her??? but she thought she was getting along so well with them, she really considered them her friends . . .

anyways everyone barely lasts two days before they're clamoring to get runa back and it turns into a whole messy thing where runa keeps avoiding them bc seeing them hang out without her makes her sad so it becomes a game of "who the hell can get runa to stay still and let us talk"

in the end it's jiri (FULL CIRCLE!!!) who manages to get her to listen and there's a lot of tears and snot and hugs from everyone all around

nametsu kicks ass in competitive pokemon battling. i don't even know how it works myself i just know she would

she'd really like to design/code her own game someday and have her own game development studio!!! her notebooks are full of little doodles and sketches of all her ideas

(i am still so salty we never got a timeskip appearance for her)

through the power of 'everyone is following everyone in the high school boys' volleyball circuit' nametsu gets hooked up with kenma and he becomes her number one beta tester and gamer nerd friend

she's a big fan of visual novels and mmorpgs and ropes futakuchi, aone, onagawa, and obara into playing with her

okay yeah kogane and sakunami too

(she tried with the third years, but moniwa is for some reason terrible with technology, kamasaki keeps trying to fight things like 20 levels higher than him and dies without ever improving, and sasaya just likes collecting things to cook with)

also i DO think nametsu actually grows pretty close to runa and yachi and keeps an eye out for them because as much as yachi and runa admired kiyoko and misaki they were third years with their shit (relatively) together as the third years tended to be, whereas nametsu is a hot mess second year figuring things out (which makes her less scary) but still has the experience that lets runa and yachi see her as some sort of authority even if it's just by a year

tl;dr nametsu is more approachable as a second year so she, yachi, and runa actually develop more of a friendship where neither yachi or runa are tripping over their tongues all the time

also!!! childhood best friends with futakuchi!!!!

i like to think that nametsu and futakuchi met aone in middle school and they took him under their wing, which means aone's social buffs were futakuchi being a little bitch and nametsu being a little bitch in a completely opposite way

in nametsu's first year she got insecure bc she didn't know if the team saw her as "aone's and futakuchi's friend" and only talked to her because of that or if they cared about her as a person individually and she was too afraid to ask

but they did!!!!! onagawa always walked partway home with her even after they left futakuchi and aone, obara always wanted her opinion on pc mods and games and whatever, moniwa always asked to go out to coffee shops and hang out . . . and so on and so forth

nametsu didn't really believe it until they all pitched in to throw her a surprise birthday party and the cake was her favorite flavor (chocolate orange) and futakuchi was like "yeah i put onagawa and obara in charge of that and didn't really tell them to do much other than don't fuck it up" which meant. they LISTENED to her and they cared enough to know her favorite flavor and to even decorate it with a stupid coding joke and and and -

she almost burst out into tears right then and there

it was okay, though. they ended up having a lot of fun!

(even if they almost committed arson trying to light up the candles)

[futuresconnected]

Welcome to my Blog!

Thanks for being here! I'm going to start off this blog with a bit of info about me, my history with games, and my plans for this blog. Come in and see!

Meet The Blogger

You can call me Wham, I've been playing games since i was child with a Gameboy Advance and a well-loved copy of Pokemon crystal, but its really only in the last five years that I've come into any sort of gaming community and had the desire to explore gaming as a hobby and video games as an art form.

Let's start with the kind of games I've enjoyed (and you can check out my Backloggd link in my profile for more)

JRPGs are the big one, and a perennial favorite of mine. Heavy hitters here include the Final Fantasy franchise (X,XII, and XIV especially), the Xenoblade games (especially 3), and the Persona series. I'm currently trying to explore more series that I've missed over the years, like Star Ocean, Trails in the Sky, Tales of, etc.

Rougelikes! Not quite as much these days, but ever since The Binding of Isaac came out, I rode the wave of the indie roguelike scene for a good seven or eight years and have a deep love for where this genre has gone over the years. Notable games for me here are Isaac, FTL, Risk of Rain, Hades, Inscryption, and Darkest Dungeon.

Diablo-style loot RPGs, I've had a long history with these games starting back when I would play Diablo II LAN games with my friend and his dad back in middle school, and games like this have always had a soft spot in my heart. I spent years playing Path of Exile, and I routinely come back to games like Titan Quest and Grim Dawn as well.

Fighting games! This one is pretty new for me, back in 2020 one of my good friends decided he was gonna try to get into Street Fighter, and that caused a small revolution in my friend group that has led to me playing a whole hell of a lot of Guilty Gear Strive, Street Fighter 6, and other assorted games. I'm by no means good at them, but I've been committed to learning and improving at them bit by bit (you'll see in the weekly FGC Corner :) )

Visual Novels/Narrative Games. This one is very much a less cogent genre space, but some of my absolute favorite games can all be loosely put together around these terms. Games like 13 Sentinels, 999, Virtue's Last Reward, Umineko, Misericorde, Perfect Tides, things of that nature.

There are many others out there, so I'll end this section by listing off a bunch of other games that are classics for me: Outer Wilds, Neon White, Just Cause 2, Devil May Cry 5, Blasphemous, Dark Souls/Bloodborne/Elden Ring, Pillars of Eternity 1 and 2, Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous, Rimworld, Disco Elysium, Monster Hunter, and many many others!

The Big Idea

What I mostly want from this blog is to be a space where I can get together at the end of a week and think back about what I've been playing, what I think about it, and whatever else is connected to those feelings. Over the years I've enjoyed seeing other folks thinking and writing critically about the media that they enjoy, and while I hold no aspirations of turning this into anything quite as specific as that, I want to give myself space to spend more time thinking about this hobby which means so much to me. I have no idea how its going to go, if I'm going to like it, or how consistent I will be able to be, but for the time being this is my plan all laid out!

If you've read all this and it sounds interesting to you, or you think you might have tastes that align with mine, feel free to follow along! I'd love to have more people to talk shop with, or even just knowing that some other folks out there might think my words are interesting.

So let's get into it!

[daisychainsandbowties]

ok ok so do you have visual references for some of the details in sw au? i can place most of the things you mention, but i’d love to see what you are referencing/riffing off of visually :)

oh hi! i do absolutely have some visual references for star wars au!

first of all, the scrapyard planet where Ava & Mary spend *checks notes* oh god almost 50,000 words on is Bracca, & it's the first level in the video game this au is very, very loosely based on.

check out this video, which is just a walkthrough of the video game. you can watch up until about the 12 minute mark with no spoilers beyond what i've already covered in my fic.

obviously, as you can see, i've fleshed out Bracca quite a bit. i invented the Lucrehulk township, the market, and most of the specific details beyond the general atmosphere (which the game captures really well!) the Lucrehulk looks a bit like this

but imagine it covered in algae, cracked and perforated, drenched in blue-black stains and bright awnings with high-rise train tracks bulging out of the arms. again, there's no township like this in canon, but i thought that a whole planet full of scrappers would have built towns in the gutted wrecks of ships, and communities and bars and shrimp noodle stands.

mary's ship looks a bit like this

with a much cooler paint-job, and a slightly larger model, closer to a light-freighter than a proper starfighter.

shannon's ship looks like this

significantly more spacious, but not quite as zippy.

a gonk droid (my beloved) looks like this. you can see what ava meant about the leg warmers

they are so ridiculous i adore them

BD, the little droid, looks like this!

he's baby

i do have a reference for ava's lightsaber! it's yellow (of course) but this is the design of the hilt

yes she uses the ring on the end to attach stupid keychains she picks up in random places. i have some ideas for what she might do once she's able to mod her lightsaber again, but i'll leave that to the fic itself

i can't think of anything else that i've consulted specifically. i do just fabricate a lot of the specific detail, riffing off of my general star wars knowledge and also a lot of sci-fi novels and genre conventions. if there's anything specific you were thinking of lmk and i'll root around in my brain to see if there was anything specific i was working from

[therandomavenger]

Flight of Ideas

A lot of people like to ask writers, and other creative types, ‘Where do you get your ideas?’ And that is, in many ways, the wrong question. I, like many other writers, have a thousand ideas before breakfast (to plagiarize Lewis Carroll). Coming up with ideas is not the problem.

At least, it’s not the problem the way the people who are asking about it mean it. Ideas kind of follow me around like a swarm of butterflies, and it can be an effort to catch one or two of them and put them in my pocket without completely destroying their wings.

Actually, that sounds like a terrible thing to do to butterflies. I regret this metaphor (yes, I know it was technically a simile).

What I mean is the problem has always been too many ideas, not a lack of ideas.

And yes, I know there are some writers who struggle with idea generation. We’ll get to that later. I know I am not speaking for all writers here.

I described this whole ‘butterfly swarm of ideas’ thing to my psychiatrist and one point and he looked at me, really concerned, and adjusted his glasses before dropping this bomb on me: ‘Chad, that sounds like a symptom of mania.’

Oh.

Shit.

He went on to explain, and I did some research on my own, and … welp, he’s right.

Flight of ideas: A rapid speech or mental pattern with abrupt topic changes characterized by loosely connected or unrelated thoughts. Flight of Ideas is commonly observed in manic episodes of bipolar disorder, reflecting a manifestation of disorganized thinking and elevated mood.

–Austin Rausch, MS, LPCC, LICDC

Welp, there’s me told.

And I do tend to have a lot of ideas when I’m entering a manic episode. It’s one of the signs. If I plot out three seven-book fantasy series in one evening, you know a storm’s-a-comin.’ In those cases, I will also throw in a couple of life-changing career or education goals, as well as start focusing on about five home improvement projects. Also, I might decide to launch a podcast? I’ll definitely order all the equipment for it! These things all seem to happen at once.

But I kind of don’t want to see the ideas themselves as the problem. In a manic state, it’s hard to decide which ideas are worth pursuing and which are hot—but entertaining—garbage. But there are always some gems in there, and I wouldn’t want them to go away. I kind of see this is not so much a symptom of mania, but as a gift of mania.

And really, it’s a gift that keeps giving even when my mental state is closer to a healthy baseline. I tend to have a lot of ideas for stories. When I was reading only novels and series, it was novel and series ideas, now it’s just as likely to be shorter ideas, and now that I am in Art school, ideas for visual projects. There’s a lot of them. I’m writing them down in my spare moments. I refuse to see this as a problem.

I sat down one day and wrote down a list of books I wanted to write. These are somewhat developed ideas that I thought were strong enough to be viable. I stopped writing the list when I got to 27.

Now, this isn’t really a problem. Will I write all 27+ of these books? Maybe, maybe not. I mean, time might have a vote in this, but I’m not that old. If I write 3 books a year, which I’ve been doing for the past couple of years (and some of these are novellas) it would only take me 9 years. I’ll barely be 60.

What I’ve decided to do is write some basics outlines for these books and do what I do best: put them on a schedule! Now, my schedule doesn’t have dates on it because that makes me put way too much pressure on myself. My schedule is basically a list. And I have solid plans for the next 7 projects.

               Finish World Enough and Time (current WIP, standalone sci-fi romance novella)

               Write Blood of the Saints (post-apocalyptic standalone fantasy short story/novella)

               Write The Lion and the Sparrow (standalone fantasy novella)

               Write Valley of Storms (Ascension Apocalypse book 2)

               Write Seeds of Hope (standalone sci fi novella)

               Write The Glittering Tomb (The Circle and the Shadow book 2)

               Write Stars Without End (Broken Stars finale)

3 of those projects short. I hope. These are all ideas that I’ve developed to the point that I am ready to start writing them. I have many others in more nascent stages. And clearly, I have not taken the advice that says, ‘Finish 1 series and the move on to the next.’ I know that’s good advice. But my muse has adhd (obviously) so here we are. Also, no traditional publisher in their right mind is going to let me do things in this order, Ursula Vernon/T. Kingfisher’s career notwithstanding. So, thank God that self-publishing is an option.

And this is just the writing. I have Curse of the Onyx Heart (The Circle and the Shadow book 1) basically ready to go as soon as I order the cover. And Beneath the Silent Stars (Broken Stars book 5) will go to the editor in March. I’m hoping World Enough and Time will be ready to publish by November.

So … I have a lot of ideas. I’ve learned how to snag hold of them and develop them to the point that they work as complete stories. I’m learning how to do that with art as well. I refuse to see this as a symptom of mental illness, or if it is, thank God there’s no cure.

As for the people who tell me they struggle to come up with ideas, I don’t have much advice, except to say you need to be absorbing all sorts of stories in various media, and figuring out which ones speak to you and why. That will help you find your own unique voice. You also need to be going out into the world and having Experiences. Work some crappy (but not abusive) jobs. Take a trip that scares you. Fall in love and get your heart broken. There are many experiences that are out there waiting for you and many of them don’t even cost any money. You have some sort of internal antenna that needs to be out, collecting signals, or, if you like this metaphor better, you need to be looking for the butterflies and carrying a net to catch them with. You find what you’re looking for (thanks, reticular activating system!), so if you’re looking for ideas, they will come to you. That may mean you need to change from being a passive observer of what is happening to someone who is always trying to figure things out, and maybe even putting themselves in the middle of the action. Or develop bipolar disorder. That’s what worked for me!

A Flight of ideas might be a symptom, but it is also a gift. And I’m glad that I’ve been given treatments for my mental illness that have not taken this away from me. I would miss it. It feels like a vital part of myself. I don’t know who I would be without it.

[wheelsup]

coffee is the sixth love language | part two

Summary: Over three cups of coffee, Spencer realized his feelings for you. And over three cups of coffee, he acts on them. gn!Reader.

A/N: the italicized this time indicates Spencer’s thoughts, not reader’s. part of this story is inspired directly from these comments made by @doctorthreephds on the reblog! thanks for letting me incorporate them :)

category: fluff, sfw

warnings: technically none, but the “profiling” part is kind of a reach.

word count: 3k

     Once Spencer was firmly resolute on asking you out, he knew he wanted it to be special in a way that only the two of you could appreciate. He realized that he had yet to be the one bringing you coffee, and so it felt only right that it should be how he makes his first move. He woke up extra early on a weekday morning to stop by your favorite coffee shop on his way to work because he knew you loved their banana nut muffins and double-brewed coffee. It was an extra twenty-five minutes out of the way for work each way, so you only got to go there on the rare occasion that you had a day off and were not out of town on a case. It might have been ridiculous to drive fifty minutes for a single damn muffin, but Spencer wanted to make this perfect for you by any means necessary. This was one of the special times that Spencer drove his car, needing the extra speed in order to complete his mission.

     He picked up your regular drink order and the muffin and was anxiously on his way back to Quantico. As per his plan he arrived at the office before you did, though not too much earlier because he wanted to make sure your coffee was still hot by the time you got it. If Spencer’s calculations were correct - which they almost always were - you would arrive within a two to four and a half minute window from when he did. Spencer took out a sharpie from his desk drawer and delicately scrawled a message onto the top corner of the pastry bag holding your muffin. He thought it felt like something out of a cheesy romance novel, the kind of novels that you could find in the fifty cent clearance bins, but dammit if Spencer didn’t deserve a little cheesy romance in his life. The other benefit of this was that he thought he would almost certainly choke on his words if he had to ask you himself. He set the two items on your desk and returned to his own to sit and observe. Spencer hoped it would be the first of many coffees he could buy you.

It wasn’t until you had already walked into the bullpen and were halfway to your desk that Spencer realized he had forgotten to sign his name to the bag. How were you supposed to react to him asking you out if you didn’t actually know it was him? And oh God, he left unsealed food on the desk of an FBI agent, with no indication of who had put it there. That is infinitely more suspicious than it is romantic. He wouldn’t be surprised if she took it straight to the trash can. So long for cheesy romance, Dr. Reid.

     But Spencer was absolutely elated when your first reaction was to peek into the bag and gasp out of joy at what was inside. He watched you break off a piece of your beloved banana nut muffin and chew it gleefully, and all he could think of was how cute you looked when you were happy. Shortly followed by concern that a federal agent would so readily eat unmarked food that could have been tampered with. That’s something I should bring up to her on the date. 

     Spencer’s stomach was in knots not knowing if you would pick up on the message. You swallowed that chunk of the muffin and turned the bag over to find an almost illegible black script that you had nearly missed: Would you like to have coffee with me? It just felt like all of the air had been knocked out of your body. 

     It didn’t even take you half a second to know who this was from; there were so many tells it was Spencer. Before you even noticed the note, you knew it was from him when you saw what was inside the bag. The whole team knew what your favorite coffee shop was because you had talked about it enough times. Hell, you even owned a oversized tee with their name on it that you kept in your go bag as a sleep shirt. But nobody knew what your favorite muffin was because you never mentioned it. In fact, if you thought about it there were maybe only a handful of times over the six months you’d been at the BAU that you even elected to eat this pastry in lieu of a real breakfast. But if anyone was going to detect a pattern, it would have been Dr. Reid. Of course he would pick up on the fact that you only picked those out at cafes when you felt like having a sweet treat, or that when Penelope brought in baked goods for the office you would only indulge if you saw your favorite item in the lineup. 

     You already knew it, but in case you had any doubt, the note itself confirmed your theory twice. One indicator was the phrasing choice would you as opposed to will you. Use of would posits a hypothetical, as in hypothetically, would you have an interest in drinking coffee together, rather than a hard, come with me to get coffee. The hesitance in the tone came off as if the sender were testing the waters, wanting to put the idea out there without coming off as too strong. Because it was reserved, it gave you room to think if you would genuinely enjoy doing so as opposed to making you feel like you should oblige. That level of respect screamed Spencer to you. And though it was so glaringly obvious, if you needed some concrete evidence it was the fact that nobody else had such endearingly atrocious handwriting like Dr. Reid. It was something you always found hilariously ironic for a man who often analyzes other people’s writing styles for work. You wondered what his way of scribbling said about him, and hoped he could tell you on that date of yours. 

     You looked straight at him, finding that his eyes were already fixed on you.

     “Yes.” 

     One word was all you had to say to make the lump in Spencer’s throat disappear, replaced by the sensation that his heart was leaping out of his chest. He was going to keep that memory stored in his brain forever, just to replay the moment when the future of your relationship changed with a simple word. Little did he know that when you finished that muffin, you neatly folded the pastry bag and tucked it into your desk drawer, saving it for the exact same purpose. 

_____

     Spencer had gotten to see your favorite coffee spot already, so for your date you requested that he take you to his to make it even. It was small, but incredibly cozy under the soft ambiance provided by string lights and charm of their mismatched furniture. There was one exposed brick wall adjacent to another that was a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf; it housed copies that loyal patrons left behind for others to pick up. All of those books had different colors of post-its peeking out from the pages. It was almost too eclectic and disorganized for what you would expect Dr. Reid to be into, but at the same time it made perfect sense to you.

     “You know, I think I just learned something about you.” You leaned gently into his side to tell him, both hands wrapped around your coffee cup because you were too nervous to know what else to do with them. Spencer was the kind of guy to sit adjacent to you at a table, rather than across, and you loved that about him. You loved having him as close to you as possible. 

     Spencer’s lips pulled at the edges to form a perfect, lazy smile. “What did you learn about me?” The team had an agreement not to profile each other, but under your gaze, Spencer never felt the kind of scrutiny that came with picking people apart. He trusted that whatever you had to say was going to be kind.

     “I think this place says so much about you. Something about how all those books are donations passed on from locals, and that people feel comfortable taking a book off the shelf and opening it up to read what others recommend. The fact that they leave little notes in it for the next reader to share what those stories meant to each of them. Nobody asked those people to do that, but they all chose to take part in these small actions that ended up creating an entire community.” It was one of the most beautifully human things you’d ever witnessed. A group of people engaging in understated and innocent gestures of love between perfect strangers, completely unprompted. “I think you value simple acts, the kind that can take on profound meaning without even intending to. Like when silence feels so comfortable when you’re with the right person.” You paused to take in his reaction as a gauge for how right or wrong you may be. He gave no objection to what you had posited, eyes simply glued to you in intense focus. Spencer was hanging on everything you said, wordlessly encouraging you to divulge more theories you’d developed on him.

     “And, visually, this furniture reminds me of a family home. The kind where some items were handed down for generations, some bought new, and others gifted by a distant relative who has no idea what the family likes.” Spencer’s soft laughter mirrored your own at your very accurate description of the shop’s decor. The room truly could not be more disjointed in its aesthetic, but that was entirely its charm. “It probably reflects that there are some aspects of your life that just don’t make sense to you, that almost seem to conflict with each other. For a guy so smart, I’m sure it’s scary to feel like you don’t understand something, and there are probably dark spots in that brain of yours that you try to hide from the world. But in this room, these things that don’t seem like they work together actually amount to something so lovely. And just like the charmingly hideous suede couch and the oddly fur-covered armchairs, every facet of you deserves appreciation because without them you wouldn’t make up to be the beautiful person you are overall.” 

     Neither of you could pinpoint the moment which your hands had drifted together, fingers loosely intertwined in gentle embrace. There was too much to unpack in what you had said for Spencer to know where to begin. The only thing he could say for sure was that he was astounded by how deeply you understood him without him ever saying any of those things. He considered that maybe you understood him better than he did himself and wished that he could spend his whole life observing the world through the same rose-tinted lenses with which you viewed him. At a loss for words, Spencer chose not to say any right then. The silence I have with you is the most comfortable I’ve ever had. 

_____

     After each of you consumed one too many caffeinated beverages, you still were not prepared to let the date end. You were willing to sit there and have as many espresso drinks as you could to keep talking to Spencer. 

     The universe must have been in support of your romance as the overcast skies broke and began to rain just minutes after the two of you had left the shop. Spencer was walking you back to your apartment, clearly forcing his long legs to slow down their naturally fast stride so to extend how long it took to get there. He could get an extra thirteen minutes with you this way. Spencer was given his perfect excuse to keep the date going in the form of heavy downpour; his apartment was far closer than yours, and he proposed you two should seek shelter together until it stopped. I hope it never stops. 

     Spencer held tightly onto your hand as he ran with you through the rain, giggling all the way to his apartment. He may not like wet, cold climates, but he sure did like holding your hand. Being next to you made him feel incredibly warm somehow when the temperature outside was very much not. And you felt completely at peace sitting on Spencer’s couch wearing one of his sweaters that he lent you. Truthfully, your own clothes weren’t so wet from the rain that it was necessary, but you both pretended it absolutely was just to be able to experience this. 

     It was clear that the rain would be going for a while and all you wanted to do to pass the time was continue listening to Spencer talk. You discovered that when he’s not interrupted, he loves to go on runaway tangents, often bouncing between different trains of thought as one idea sparked him to remember another. It was almost a sport to keep up with him, but it was perhaps the only one you’ve ever enjoyed. It was so easy when everything he said interested you. You loved that Spencer taught you something new every day, but no matter how niche a piece of trivia or shocking an unknown fact was, it could not beat the things that he taught you about himself. He was letting you in on so many unseen dimensions of himself whether he knew it or not, the explicit ones revealing implicit ones. 

     You had happily stayed in his home for hours, absorbing every word he spoke. What entertained you the most was the ability of your conversation to jump from deep, serious places to lighthearted stories filled with jokes and teasing and back again in a way that felt completely natural. Your favorite anecdote of his was the story of how he got addicted to coffee. It was the BAU’s favorite inside-joke that Spencer liked his coffee sickeningly sweet and you always wondered how he could tolerate it. Just looking at it made your teeth ache. When he told you why, you thought that the backstory was even sweeter than the coffee.

     As a twelve year old college student, Spencer found himself experiencing sleep deprivation for the first time in his life. The course load was more rigorous than he had in high school and even the boy genius needed to readjust to the new expectations of college. More importantly, he needed to cope with pulling late nights at the library if he wanted his first degree by the time he was eligible for a driver’s license. The Red Bulls that the other kids seem to gravitate to seemed far too aggressive for Spencer, their potent smell of chemicals a huge turn off. They were definitely not for him. 

     He remembered how often his mom used to drink coffee, always in the morning while Spencer got ready for school. Being at CalTech and away from his mother, who remained in Las Vegas most of the time due to her condition, made him so homesick that he took up a coffee habit as a reminder of her. He loved the way it smelled like every comfort he had ever known. 

     Though he appreciated its smell, Spencer, of course, was not ready back then to love the way it tasted. He was still after all a twelve year old boy who had a sweet tooth like any other kid. The bitter drink was almost offensive to him, so he always made his coffee with extra, extra sugar. He was a menace to the baristas at the campus coffee cart because they would have to refill the shaker every time he stopped by. As it turned out, Spencer was actually a little troublemaker in his youth. 

     You utterly adored this story and the way it humanized Spencer in a way that other people did not consider often enough. Yes, he was the genius in incredibly advanced classes for his age, but he was also a little kid who behaved as all little kids did. He also experienced struggle and had to cope with it just like everyone else. He was not, as some chose to believe, a complete anomaly beyond understanding. Those many misunderstood idiosyncrasies Spencer had started to feel grounded as you learned more about him and could appreciate how and why they came to be.  

     But the night was dwindling down and two of you had gone through many stories since the start of your day together. Hitting a caffeine crash, you found yourself unable to keep some rogue yawns at bay. It was only eight o’clock in the evening, not an unreasonable time for you to ask Spencer to drive you back home. The rain was letting up to a mellow drizzle. Spencer was running out of excuses to keep you here.

     But you thought about how still hadn’t heard about his first pet lizard, which he caught in his backyard, and you didn’t yet know what kind of music he listened to when he was fourteen. And you no longer thought you needed to make excuses to stay with him longer, so you told him honestly that all you really wanted was to stay the night with him and keep hearing his stories. So you asked him if he would set on a fresh pot of coffee, just so you both could sip at it, staying awake all night together.

     He happily did so, and while he set the large coffee pot on and took out two cups from his cabinet, he thought, this is the first of many wishes of yours that I’d like to make come true.

______

PART THREE

Tag list: @rexorangecounty @rachel-voychuk @snitchthewitch @spencer-blake-supremacy @happyreid187 @rainsong01 @librarymagic 

[folkloreguk]

🍒Cherry Ice Cream🍒

A/N: Happy July! I planned this almost a year ago and finally got around to writing it...I hope you like it! As always, I appreaciate feedback a lot! Hope everyone has a lovely day <3

pairing: optional bias (male) x reader (gn)

words: ~ 3.7 k

genre: fluff, comedy, lifeguard!bias, reader is the most awkward and chaotic person ever (are we at the public pool or the circus?? seriously I’m so second hand embarrassed for her lmao), bias is the hottest man in existence, the universe has something against the reader apparently (rip)

PART 2 (nsfw, both parts can be read independently)

You approached the front entrance of the public swimming pool. Everything was still going by plan. Ever since the weather had gotten warmer, you’d had swimming on your mind. And every single person in your life had been made aware of it. Despite the friendly asking and the occasional begging, you still hadn’t found anyone to accompany you to the public swimming pool. You had heard all the reasons: Work, already planned vacations, a sick pet, a hatred of water, a hatred of people, you name it. After all the searching you had come to the conclusion that you were tired of waiting. Nothing could possibly rob you of your excitement about swimming pools. You’d go alone and have a wonderful time. It would be a relaxing day with loads of time just for you. So you had told yourself. But let’s face it, nothing could have prepared you for the utter chaos you were about to walk into.

It began before you had even set both feet into the facility. Your steps were light, and you beamed, ready to enter after you had paid. The strap of your sports bag had caught in the turnstile in the entrance area. Stubborn as you were, you yanked on it, instead of turning around and manually freeing the fabric from the steel contraption. You had put your entire weight on the line, tugging and pulling, when the strap finally came loose from the turnstile. As expected from such antics, you tripped and struggled in your flip-flops, blundering into the compound like a baby giraffe walking for the first time. By the time you tried to compose yourself to look cool and relaxed after such a mistake, you noticed him.

He, who looked like a Greek god blessing you with a visit on earth. He was all tan skin, red life-guard swim trunks, perfectly sculped shoulders, pushed back hair, a smile that put the sun to shame and sunglasses sitting on top of his head. Instantly you thanked yourself for not seriously injuring yourself. The young godman crossed the lawn, presumably to take his seat by the pool, watching out for the visitors. Only he made it look like he was strutting on a runway at Paris fashion week. All you could do was pray that he hadn’t seen you entering his workplace headfirst like some impatient six-year-old.

As people passed you, you realized you were standing in the same spot where you had almost fallen a minute ago. Manifesting that this was just the silly beginning to a perfect day, you paraded into the shaded grassy area to find a spot to set up your things. Countless groups of friends, families, and lone visitors like yourself had already settled down, but you managed to find a fine spot. It was the superb balance between sunny and shady and not too far from the swimming pools and water slides. In seconds you had shed off your clothes to reveal your swimsuit underneath. Although you could barely keep yourself waiting, you decided it was best to stay there a short while before you threw yourself into the waves. Just until the sunscreen had absorbed into your skin. Meanwhile, you would unpack the catchy book you had recently begun to read.

Now and then you raised your head and peeked at the cute lifeguard. You seriously had no intentions of coming across like a creep, but you couldn’t stop yourself. The way he patrolled the side of the large pool had more coolness than the prettiest shot of a hot movie star in a film. You allowed yourself a few seconds, then you’d go back to your novel. The sounds of summer floated through the air – children laughing, water splashing, birds chirping above you – and the scent of the sunscreen catapulted you straight on cloud 9. It felt like your own small piece of paradise. Little did you know, the universe had so much more in store for you.

You hadn’t been buried in your book for even 10 minutes when a group of kids ran by. They were passing a water ball from one to the other and giggling uncontrollably. You saw it coming in your peripheral vision but had no time to react. As they had reached your level, one of them punched the ball especially hard. And instead of catching it, the dark blue ball bounced off one child’s hands and straight into the side of your face. It knocked your sunglasses off the bridge of your nose, but more importantly gave you the fright of your life. You dropped your book while the children’s mother scolded them from the side. After the initial surprise you couldn’t accept their apologies quickly enough. Anything if it could spare you from even more attention from random guests around you. Impulsively, your eyes searched for the cute lifeguard. But he was looking into the opposite direction. At least fate had saved you from embarrassing you in front of him. The last thing you wanted was to look like more of a clown than you had when entering the facility earlier. But against your expectations, the train of unfortunate events was only beginning.

Surely things would be more peaceful in the water, you had thought. When you finally entered the cool pool, it felt like heaven on earth. Fearing a case of recurrence, you avoided the shallower areas, where the children crowded and went straight for the deeper waters. Finally experiencing some form of relaxation, you swam and dived a few laps around the pool. Now and then you caught a glimpse of the lifeguard on the far end of the pool. Just to make sure he was still there. Just to make sure he’s still as handsome as when you first spotted him. And you weren’t disappointed. Gesturing kindly, he helped an elderly woman find directions to the restaurant on the far end of the site. From up closer, his smile and his jaw were even prettier – even though it had seemed impossible for him to become even more perfect.

After a while, your limbs became tired and you retracted into less busy waters, close to the exit and entrance area of the swimming pool. As you paddled your way through bodies, a bug startled you. It had by all appearances chosen you as its victim, as it took direct flight into your face. Even when you swat it away and turned around to change directions, it kept chasing you and only you. Like some crazy, obsessed stalker, it followed you to the edge of the pool. Eventually, you became tired of running and turned to it. If some random flying beetle wanted to fight you, so be it. To the untrained eye, you might have appeared like a lunatic, fanning the air, and squinting against the bright sunlight. But it was war, and you would square up against the most annoying of bugs. After a while, you realized that you were waving off the air – no more bug in sight. Only then you noted the little girl laughing in your direction from the poolside. You were way too mortified to turn into his direction at first, but when you found the lifeguard, he was conversing with one of his co-workers. Once again, you were safe.

Your next approach at a good time was the colorful waterslide close by. Certainly, these heights would not include micro-aggressive bugs. Instead, they included something far more unsettling. Considering there were toddlers going down the waterslide, you deemed it safe and fun. Your mind changed in the first sharp turn, when you tumbled over and hit your elbow from the sudden change of direction. Maybe you should have just stayed in the ring with the bug instead of choosing this more than violent escape. But it was too late. Once on the slide, you had to make it through to the finish line – more or less in one piece. Your grand finale composed of a semi-somersault off the edge of the waterslide into the pool. Although it wasn’t intentional, you still hoped it looked somewhat graceful to the audience at the bottom. Hint: No, it didn’t. You looked like a baby monkey that had been sent down a self-constructed-waterslide in someone’s backyard. It was a disaster.

Feeling over-heated and exhausted from the sun and your embarrassing antics, you found a drinking fountain by the showers to refresh yourself. Patiently, you waited in the short line until it was your turn. As fate wanted it, the next messy incident wasn’t long in the coming. In fact, it only took four sips of water before you accidentally inhaled some of it. You stepped back, choking, coughing, and gasping for air all at once. A helpful woman showed mercy with you and your awkward behavior and softly pat your back. “Are you okay, dear?” she asked. Unable to speak just yet, you smiled and nodded gratefully. Great. Maybe you should add “clown” onto your previous professions in your CT. By now, half the visitors probably knew who you were – a walking safety hazard to yourself.

After retreating to your bath towel set-up in the shade for a while, you had almost found new hope that the universe wasn’t against you that day. You managed to lie there, for a whole hour, without any issues. But then, slowly, another idea crept up on you. After all, what was summer without ice cream? By chance, you happened to know the little ice cream truck next to the yellow waterslide sold your favorite brand of ice lolly. So off you went, money in hands and wild determination in your head. The visual of the handsome lifeguard lingered in your mind even after you had passed the chair he was sitting on by the poolside. You acquired your ice lolly successfully and ripped the wrapper right away. It tasted like summer in food format, and you reveled in the cold treat for a while, as you strolled back in the direction of your bath towel.

Fully aware that you would have to walk by the insanely cute lifeguard again, you tried your best to look cool, next to the large pool. In your imagination, you were glowing in the sun, hair slightly flowing in the warm breeze and steps bouncing happily. You were the personification of summer bloom and radiating everything good about the season. For a moment, you closed your eyes and actually indulged in the warmth on your face. That was when the next mishap struck.

You didn’t even understand what was happening at first. Someone accidentally bumped into you – or did you bump into them? Upon the impact, you opened your eyes. Your ice-cream had vanished from your hands. Turns out, you had dropped it and it had landed only two feet from you. Out of balance, you stumbled ahead even after the impact. And of course, only a second later your foot stepped directly onto the ice lolly. Inevitably, you skidded and struggled to stay on your feet by means of flinging and waving your arms in the air. As if you were some stranger, trying to attract the attention of an aircraft whilst stranded on a desert island. One thing was for sure, you had everyone’s observance tied to you. With an involuntary but comedic performance of theatrical extent, you fell and hit the water surface.

The cool hit you so suddenly, you had swallowed a gulp of water before your instincts had time to set in. Quickly, your limbs began paddling to get you back to the surface. At that instant, a pair of arms suddenly linked under your armpits and swooped you up from underwater. Your brain processed what was going on. Without a doubt, someone had jumped after you and was pulling you out of the water. Stubbornly, you tried to avoid the idea of the cute lifeguard helping you out. Christ, that would really be the peak of all your embarrassing moments. No, it was probably the person you had run into, or someone who had already been in the water.

When you were placed by the poolside and blinked against the blending sun, your worst concerns came to pass. There he was, so close you could have touched his face. His worried expression changed when you opened your eyes, and he smiled, relieved. “Is everything alright?” he asked. You’d think this would make you into the most shamefaced person on the planet. And yet, all you could wonder was how two people’s genes could combine so flawlessly, so beautifully, to create such a man. When he got no answer from your moonstruck figure, he furrowed his eyebrows in alarm.

“Oh my- my god,” you stammered. “Yes! I’m fine, I’m sorry!”

You weren’t sure why you were apologizing. For worrying him? For inconveniencing him? For causing another scene? Either way, he grinned, and you felt your cheeks heat up terribly. You had to get away from there before something cringy came out of your mouth. Although you weren’t sure there was any way you could have made this more awkward than it already was.

“Make sure you have no injuries, okay?” he asked, helping you up. “If you need any medical assistance, just let me or one of the other lifeguards know.”

“Um…okay,” you said. Wow. That was no way to flirt with the most attractive person you had ever met. With all this drama you had gone through on that day, the universe could have at least blessed you with a romantic, your-life-savior-realizes-he-just-met-the-love-of-his-life moment. But no. The movies really were one massive hoax.

“It’s probably best you take a little break from the surprise, before you go back into the water,” he advised you. “And don’t hesitate to ask, if you need any more help.”

If only he knew how many times you had already tried to take a break from the surprise after everything on that day. You stood on your feet safely but felt like a cat that had fallen into the bathtub. At last, you managed a smile in the lifeguard’s direction. “Thank you.”

Funny enough, the stares people gave you bothered you only slightly as you walked back to your spot under the trees. Maybe you had used up all your embarrassment for the day. Nothing could intimidate you anymore. That meant, whatever happened from now on, it couldn’t get worse. Somehow after the pinnacle of chaos, you finally felt some inner tranquility. You went back to your novel, now and then keeping an eye out for potential water balls coming your way. But everything was calm. As time went on, you lost yourself completely in the story line and forgot about everything around you. Maybe this was all meant to happen. Perhaps it was a message, that you should have waited for your family to have a free day, or for your friend to come back from vacation. Would the same things have happened? There was no way to tell. Just as you reached a specifically exciting scene in the novel, a figure suddenly appeared in front of you. You couldn’t believe your eyes.

“Hey,” the handsome lifeguard stood there, smiling kindly. Wide-eyed, you straightened up and greeted him shyly.

“I couldn’t help but notice how happy you were about that ice cream earlier,” he said. “But then you…lost your ice cream.”

“What an interesting way of saying I stomped on it and made an absolute fool of myself,” you smirked. He chuckled.

“However you want to put it, I thought maybe you could use some cheering up,” he went on. “So I got you a new one.”

He pulled two ice-lollies from behind his back. “One for you, one for me.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. “You bought me this? I don’t want to sound rude… but aren’t you supposed to be looking out for the next victim to repeat my foolery?”

“I’m on my break,” he laughed. His eyes crinkled up cutely when he smiled, and it only made your stomach flutter more. “If you want me to leave, I will. I’m not trying to be weird or obtruding. Just making sure you’re okay, because I noticed you’re here alone.”

“Oh. No! Feel free to stay here for as long as you want!” you said, and now maybe you were the one sounding obtrusive. You scooted over and let him take a spot on your bathmat. You thanked him for the ice cream and gleefully unwrapped it. “My friends and family weren’t available today. But I really, really wanted to come here today. Maybe not my brightest idea.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve seen way worse plunges than yours. You were lucky, really. You got away with a small shock and nothing more. It was pretty impressive, actually.”

“I’m glad I have entertaining qualities, at least.”

“I’m just messing with you,” he laughed. “I’m glad you’re fine. This place gets a little wild during the afternoon, especially on weekends.”

“You don’t say,” you chuckled.

“I recommend coming here in the mornings or late evenings, if you want a little more peace and quiet.”

“Thanks, I’ll probably consider it. Do you work here full time?” you asked.

“No, this is just a summer job,” he said. “It’s great. I get to swim for free and be outside a lot. Not to mention this is one of my favorite places in town.”

“You love swimming too?” you asked and regretted it right away. A lifeguard who hated swimming made no sense, after all. But he didn’t seem to think your words were silly.

“I do! I come here a lot to swim, when it’s not as busy and I don’t have to work,” he said. The thought of seeing him again when you came back in a few days – which you already knew you would – made you feel some sort of way. You had been embarrassed, but his sweet words had appeased you. You could definitely get used to seeing his face all summer long. The two of you talked for some time, while you both finished your ice cream. You learned his name, which was just as beautiful as its owner, and that he thought you had actually looked pretty cute (!) when you fell into the pool. You swore he wasn’t even real. Perhaps he was merely a hallucination, a product of your imagination, to cheer yourself up after your messy day. Either way, your head was up in the clouds as long as he was sitting there, next to you, with his perfect shoulders and charming voice. Soon, he had to excuse himself, though. His break was over and as he had put it, he needed to prevent any more ice cream-murders from happening.

After your conversation, the universe had apparently shifted in your favor. You spent the entire rest of your day without any more misfortunes. Like you had talked to a lucky charm who had done miracles for you, you had a fantastic time. You were even brave enough to face a few more go’s down the ever-so-threatening waterslide. As it got later, more people went home, and just as he had predicted, things calmed down. And you were convinced you would stay until the bitter end. Only when a female voice announced over the speakers that the swimming pool would close in 30 minutes, you slowly started to pack up your things.

As you approached the exit, you scanned the area for your favorite lifeguard. But he was nowhere to be found. You assumed he had already finished his shift and gone home. But as luck would have it, as you neared the bicycle stands to retrieve your bike, you saw him already there. His eyes beamed when he noticed you.

“Wow, you held out a long time,” he said. “Had fun?”

“I did,” you said. You could only be grateful your ice-cream massacre was the sole of your antics he had witnessed that afternoon. Who knew how he would look at you if he had experienced your full chaotic capacity? “Thank you again, for making sure I was fine. And for the ice cream.”

“It was no big deal,” he said. “It’s what I’m here for.”

“To buy random girls ice cream?” you teased.

“No, only the special ones get the ice cream.”

“Define special.”

“To be honest? I was genuinely concerned you would feel down. I’ve seen you almost trip over when you first came in, you got hit in the face by a ball, I’ve witnessed your little quarrel with that bug and your somersault from the waterslide looked pretty rough. After all that you choked on water and then ended up falling into the pool and losing your ice cream. I supposed you could need some serious cheering up.”

Oh my god. If only you could have opened a portal straight to hell, you would have taken the chance on the spot. All this time he had been watching you? It couldn’t get more mortifying than this.

“Sorry, I sound like some creepy stalker,” he said. “I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just you-“

“I looked like a clown in a neon suit?”

“You’re really pretty,” he said. Your cheeks warmed up and you could have yelled out loud.

“But you have to admit, at least the clown part is true.”

“Maybe,” he joked. “Don’t be embarrassed. I thought you were – are – adorable.”

“Thank you,” you managed to say. What the hell were you doing? The most handsome guy was complimenting you. You had to take your chance. “Maybe sometime I could buy you some ice cream too? If you feel like it-“

“I’d love that,” he smiled. It was only the beginning of summer, but it was a glorious one. You already knew it could only get better. Instead of cursing the universe, you had to say your thank you’s now. Without your string of bad luck, things would have never led this way. Perhaps fortune was on your side, after all.

[shtern-and-art]

Does Bad have any animalistic character traits from seeing through animals for so long? Like purring or hissing kinda stuff?

N what will happen when Skeppy has to leave the town because they start to clue in on his nature? Will he move into the forest with Bad?

He definitely got a bunch of animal-like behaviors from that, yeah! Not only cute one like noises, but also teeth baring, and staring down, and eating weird stuff, and stealing little stuff for his hoards :D (I want to do a concept design sheet of Bad later, to explain little details like that)

He'll need to get used to properly talking and behaving around people again, for sure. If he wants to go out of forest sometimes that is :D

Plot twist, he kinda does. And Skeppy messing stuff up in town (and everywhere he goes), and his need to move around are part of the plot! Because they do get attached to each other, and also begin to understand that they want more in life than what they have. But as of now – Bad can't go too far away from the forest, and Skeppy can't really stay at one place for too long.

My main idea was that (SPOILERS and different endings under the cut)

at the end they both move out of that town, and go on traveling together. At least that’s where this specific story wraps up :D

But, from the very start, in my head this story shaped up like a perfect one for a visual novel style game with a bunch of endings, depending on your choices (with Skeppy as the main character, oh g-d). A lot of the endings would be sad, bittersweet, or tragic, cuz. Yeah :D

And one of the endings might as well be the one where Skeppy lets a lot of his humanity and care for people slip away, and stays in the forest, becoming a proper fae. More an immortal personified force of change and nature, than a person. He can still hang out with Bad, though! In this ending Bad lets his past and his pain go, and becomes a proper guardian of that land – more of a patron saint or a demigod than a living being.

They’d care for the forest and the land together for hundreds of years, until the time will wash away all the traces of this place and who they were in it. And then they’d move on to guard and protect something else.

I’d say this ending is one of the brighter ones, even if it’s still bittersweet. After all, they both will still lose a parts of themselves, and a lot of the stuff they strived for and wanted will loose it’s importance to them. But well. It’s still a valid choice they can make. A way for them to move on!

And this ending is more fun than the one where Skeppy still goes full fae, but Bad decides to forgo the whole “consciousness/personality thing” completely and strait up becomes one with the forest :D In that case Skeppy will stay in town and in the forest for hundred something years, just to watch over it – for Bad. He’ll stay until the last traces of Bad’s presence are gone, lost amongst the flow of life, and stags stop coming out of the woods, unafraid, to follow him near the old trails. After that, Skeppy will move on to wherever he will want to cause chaos next in his long, long life.

He will still come visit the forest from time to time – to say hi, and help it out, and tie a wishing charm to the branch. And eventually Skeppy will find happiness and chaotic fulfillment in his fae life, yeah…

But it’s not a game, it’s a story, so all the extra endings are not canon! :D Phew, amiright? :DDDD

Sorry, if I bummed you out, I didn’t mean to <3 Rest assured, the main ending I chose for the story is not a tragic one! It’s just, talking about other outcomes and game elements is so fun, I can’t help but swivel away to it sometimes.

---

In The Dark - masterpost

[firstagent]

Review! Digimon Adventure: (2020) Episode 63: The Crest of Courage

In this episode, Taichi undergoes a test to prove he’s worthy of the power he’s already busted out twice before.

As inconsistent as the crest activation suite has been, at least it’s given us varied, sometimes interesting scenarios involving helping innocent Digimon and exploring the various reaches of the world. We’ve gotten to see some old friends again, both from this series and seasons from the past. Doing something different for the main guy like a direct test isn’t out of bounds at all, but it does sap the fun out of these escapades. It also puts the entire focus on Taichi, which is never a good thing in this series. While it doesn’t do anything wrong and Taichi at least shows a little bit of life, its simple nature and the bust of a reveal at the end makes it a hard one to get excited over.

Taichi’s route to his crest has been a weird one, criss-crossing everybody else’s paths and sticking his nose in everything. Was that part of this ultimate test, showing that true courage is following the arrows blindly without asking too many questions? Absolutely not! His winding road is never commented on, nor does it alone embody any of the traits of courage Valkyriemon was looking for. Instead, we get another straight-up crest test, isolating Taichi in a world that’s all about him showing off his courage. Not even a hostage this time! The idea is fine and the visuals are strong, but it’s unfortunate how it abandons everything that came before it.

At least not everything’s forgotten. Taichi’s companion here is a simple Botamon, rescued from some hostile Goblimon. The meeting is a nice return to basics, as it reminds Taichi of his first meeting with Agumon, back when launching himself into harm’s way was a novel and admirable approach rather than a reckless default. The sentiment is there, and that counts for a little bit. Even his aquatic adventure with Seadramon evokes his first river escape with Sora. It never gets much deeper than “remember when this happened,” but it had the opportunity. At one point, Taichi wishes he could evolve like a Digimon. You’d think he’d have picked up on that being the point of this whole excursion.

While the thought is nice, it’s still Taichi we’re dealing with here, limiting how deep anything’s going to get. He seems to get what this is right away, following Valkyriemon to each challenge, working his way through them on the spot, occasionally coming up with some randomly clever solutions, and only seldomly worrying about his own safety. His more pressing concern is Botamon, but c’mon, look at him! The whole exercise just shows how difficult the crest of courage is to represent in an interesting capacity. It’s so frequently reduced to bravely confronting every problem, which is no different than everyone else this season. Showing off the fear that someone must overcome and acknowledging the difference between bravery and recklessness are the real keys to a good courage story. This is as close as this series gets to that, but it falls far short of anything good.

Taichi does pass, at least, bowling Botamon out of harm’s way, willing to take it on himself. It triggers some more silhouette power from Botamon to stop the Allomon and win the game. The prize could not be more disappointing. Valkyriemon gives us information that we mostly already knew about the holy war, the key sacrifices, and the big miracle that shows up when everyone really needs the bad guys to just go away. Yep, the great power they’ve spent all arc striving for is… Omegamon. The same Omegamon that’s already shown up twice. And long enough ago that all the intrigue over feather magic is long forgotten. The key is apparently getting everybody to want it hard enough. You know, the same way they beat Millenniumon.

Is Omegamon going to be the only decider in this final battle against the Great Catastrophe? We should hope not. It has plenty of alternate forms and potential power-ups to add something to the mix. But it confirms the fear we had back in episode two: by using Omegamon so early, it’s one fewer thing to look forward to now. This should have been the grand culmination of everyone’s efforts manifesting into some new and sexy thing to give them a fighting chance. Heck, if it hadn’t appeared earlier in the series, we’d be frothing at the bit to catch a glimpse of Omegamon here. But thanks to them playing that card twice already, all we get is old news.

My Grade: C+

Loose Data:

Boy that whole thing with Knightmon looked poised to turn into something bigger, like some Green Knight action. Now there’s a test of courage!

Why was Sora even part of this episode? I understand the desire for continuity from the previous episode, but they’ve never been all that concerned about that before and it really hasn’t degraded the show that much. Now we’re left wondering what Sora was doing this entire time while Taichi was disassociating.

Try not to think about the physics behind Taichi’s encounter with Seadramon. Between his ability to stop getting sucked in by treading water and his miraculous ability to maneuver that heavy log, it’s… a lot.

It’s too clever a move to dock too many points for it, so just remember that coating yourself with bubbles makes you fireproof!

There were several references to the original Digimon Adventure movie hiding in that one sequence with Botamon silhouetting his way through Agumon’s evolution line and back.

Taichi seems to be getting all the credit for making Omegamon happen. Even if we discount Takeru and Hikari as representative of the praying hearts and all that, where does this leave Yamato, whose Digimon provides literally half of Omegamon’s form?

Omegamon is described as an “existence which surpasses countless space-time,” which you just know is going to launch a million theories about this show’s connection to the Digimon multiverse. This isn’t the Xros Wars manga!

See reviews of every Digimon episode at Digimon: System Restore! Support the site by joining our Patreon!

[hood-ex]

Dude, I love reading everybody's fan works, but I myself cannot write for my life. I have so many ideas but it just seems impossible to actually put any of them on paper past a couple of notes. Do you have any tips for getting any stories done, even if it's just a really short one? (Also, Happy New Year!!)

Happy New Year! 

Sure, yeah! I’ll list a few tips for ya! 

If you haven’t written a lot/at all then consider starting off with either a drabble (100 words) or a one-shot (typically 1000+ words). The action here is supposed to be fast. You won’t have to worry about super descriptive details and things like that. You can just get out the main points of the story. 

I’ll give you an example of something I’ve written that’s only about 200 words or so. This fic is very short but it still manages to tell a story because it follows a very basic plot structure. 

The paragraph that builds up to the action is very short, and this paragraph is the entire exposition of the story. It introduces the main character (Dick), and it tells us what Dick is doing. This sets the scene so the reader can now picture Dick sitting on a couch with his pizza.

The rising action is Dick describing the pizza he got, and the reader getting a sense that something about the pizza is wrong based on the way Dick freezes at the sight of it. 

The climax is Dick realizing he ordered the wrong pizza. He got Damian’s pizza order, and this is where the reader realizes that Damian is dead.

The falling action is Dick putting the pizza away in the fridge next to all his other untouched meals. This is the effect from the climax, and it lets the reader know that Dick is still grieving over Damian. 

The resolution is Dick going to the shower to cry. The fact that Dick is going to the shower to cry tells the reader something about his character and gives him a little more depth. 

Notice how I stick to the very basics. There is no long, descriptive introduction that builds up the scene like you might see in other stories that start off by describing the gray clouds, the pouring rain, all the Gotham residents bundled away in their homes, etc. There are no lengthy descriptions about what Dick’s apartment looks like or what he’s initially feeling. Nope. It’s just Dick sitting on his couch to eat his pizza because he’s hungry. Super basic, right?

This is kind of what I mean when I say that sometimes I just jump into a scene and write. It’s the same as starting a story with dialogue rather than a descriptive paragraph. Dialogue immediately throws you into a character’s conversation, and dialogue is much easier and faster to write than wordy paragraphs. 

This fic of mine is an example of a story that is essentially just dialogue. Sure, there are a few descriptive sentences here and there to help the reader visualize the scene better, but most of the action is the dialogue. And we can apply the same basic plot structure to this story as well. 

Exposition: The Titans are in the car. Dick is tired. 

Rising Action: The Titans think Dick is going to fall asleep during the movie they’re going to watch. Dick says he’ll be fine, and he asks what movie they’re going to watch. 

Climax: Gar complains about the movie Kory picked for them to watch. Vic suggests watching another chick flick. Gar is not happy about it. 

Falling Action: Dick confuses Dinah with Diana. Donna gives him shit for it. 

Resolution: Gar thinks Dick is adorable and asks if he can be like this more often. Dick says something to make Vic and Donna laugh, and then Dick finally falls asleep. 

The plot structure is something we learn in school that we usually associate with novel length stories, but you can see in my examples that the plot structure can also be used for very short fics. Personally, the rising action and falling action are things that I don’t really plan out. They kind of just occur naturally when I’m writing. The exposition, climax, and resolution are usually the things that stick out in my mind the most (and it’s totally normal to just picture one or two of the three before you start writing). 

As a beginner, filling out the plot structure with the few notes you have will help you turn your notes into full sentences and dialogue. Let’s test this out just by filling in the plot structure starting with very little information.  

For example, let’s say I want to write a fic and all the notes I have for it consists of:

Jason (as Red Hood) is crying

Dick (as Nightwing) comforts him

Alright, well now I need to build a scene around those two notes. So now let me fill in some information for the plot structure. When I’m filling it out, I want to keep things like the characters and setting in mind. 

What I end up with is: 

Exposition: Dick and Jason are being held as prisoners on an alien planet. Dick and Jason are in a cell together. The cell is small and cold. They don’t know why they’ve been taken in as prisoners. They can’t understand the alien’s language. All they have is each other to rely on. Dick is keeping watch while Jason leans against him, asleep. 

Rising Action: Guards come to Dick and Jason’s cell. They are really fucking big. Way bigger than humans. Jason wakes up, startled and disoriented. He sits up. The guards start speaking. Dick has no idea what they’re saying. He tenses in anticipation.

Climax: All hell breaks loose. The guards make a grab for Jason. Jason defends himself. Dick attacks the guards to protect Jason. The small cell makes it hard to fight. The guards crowd Jason and harshly restrain him, making Jason cry out. Dick tries to free Jason. One guard uses a device to shock Dick in the head. This causes Dick to have a seizure. Dick can hear Jason going ballistic. Jason’s screaming for him and cussing at the guards. But then Jason’s voice gets further away, and Dick is left to ride out the seizure on his own. 

Falling Action: Dick’s seizure passes. His head is foggy, he’s got a horrific headache, and his body feels sore. The more time passes, the more tired Dick feels. He’s in and out of sleep, his anxiety for Jason’s safety keeping him from sleeping fully. At some point, the guards return with Jason slumped between them. He’s still conscious. The guards dump Jason on the ground. Once they leave, Dick crawls to him. He starts to ask what happened, having a vague idea that torture was involved based on Jason’s demeanor. He stops after noticing that there are tears on Jason’s cheeks. Jason looks away and his shoulders are shaking. 

Resolution: Jason hisses through his teeth when Dick tries to gently sit Jason up against the wall. Jason mumbles that he’s too sore for sitting and he just wants to lie down. Jason uses Dick’s thigh as a pillow and curls up into himself. His shoulders are still shaking, and Dick hears him sniffle. Dick tries to comfort him by rubbing small circles into Jason’s back. Jason lets out a shaky breath and falls quiet. Dick keeps doing it until he starts to nod off, completely drained from the seizure. They both fall asleep in pain, but with the knowledge that at least they’re together. 

Okay so see how I was able to flesh out the two original notes into something more in-depth that turned into actual sentences? That’s something you can do with the notes for your stories. Put all your ideas for each part of the scene into quick, short sentences. 

Filling in the plot structure like this helps you flesh out those brief notes into an actual scene that you can build off of. And if you look at what I wrote, you’ll notice that there are sentences I came up with that I can actually use in the story when I’m writing it.

Does that make sense? Basically what I’m saying is just come up with short sentences to describe each part of the plot structure. These short sentences will form the bigger picture of your story. Then you want to use those sentences you wrote to help you build the beginning, middle, and end of your story. 

I think that part of what makes writing a story so hard is simply just starting the scene. For me, it’s usually always the hardest part. You can make it easier for yourself by jumping into a more action filled part of a scene or by starting the story off with dialogue. For example, if I want to start off the Dick and Jason prisoner story then I can be like:

“You made my arm fall asleep,” Dick mutters under his breath. 

Jason, who’s currently treating Dick’s right side like a damn body pillow, answers with a soft snore. Between the cold floor of the prison cell and Jason’s body weight slowly crushing him, the snoring is just the cherry on top of this whole shitty situation.

The dialogue allows me to introduce the characters and the setting. Just from the first line, I know that Dick is in this story, he’s uncomfortable, and someone else is with him because he said the word “you.” This gives me the perfect chance to introduce Jason as the person Dick is with. It also gives me the chance to explain the setting by letting the reader know that Dick and Jason are in a cell. Now are prison cells usually pleasant? No. So I made sure to mention that the cell is cold. Now the reader knows Dick is uncomfortable, cold, and he’s stuck in a terrible situation. 

And the story just keeps building and building from there. 

Tbh, a big part of this is just having the will to start writing. You just have to make yourself type something even if it’s shit. And it’s totally fine to play around with sentences! Just try it out by writing maybe three sentences. Don’t like it? Erase. Tackle the scene from a different angle. Change the dialogue. Start the story from a different location or with different characters. Don’t like it? Erase.

Keep practicing. You’ll eventually come up with something that’ll just click in your brain, and before you know it, you’ll have typed a paragraph of two. And your brain and your hands will work together, and you won’t have to think so hard about what you’re writing. Your hands will just go once you’re in a groove.

But yeah, dude, that’s all I got for you right now! I hope that was somewhat helpful to you! Lemme know if you have any other questions!  

[project-paranoia]

Let’s Watch - My Roommate Is A Detective Episode One

There's this interesting thing about discovering cdramas where you watch shows from the last twenty years interchangeably and as a result I had no idea that My Roommate is a Detective came out in 2020 until I pulled it up on iQiyi.  I usually watch on youtube for no other reason than it's easy, but the youtube version doesn't have the intro and I really love the intro.

In my experience, intros in cdramas either spoil the whole show, are a feels reel, or are artistic - in the West there are any number of title sequences that try to be artistic but miss the mark because they're so highbrow they don't really mean or do anything. These intros in cdramas however stay anchored with object, characters, and scenes that actually have an impact on the story - they just make them beautiful.

On another note, a lot can and has been said about whether or not BBC Sherlock's legacy in the West in constructive or destructive in the way that it inspired drama and mystery shows.  In China however there are a number of mystery dramas which take very obvious stylish cues from BBC Sherlock, but don't fall victim to its foibles. My Roommate is a Detective is one of them, it embraces visual elements and framing, but with a much warmer palette and the titular character never looses his charm to fall into viciousness nor does he overstep anyone else's personhood - for all that he is childish.

These dramas are sleek and saturated with rich colours, every object feels polished and arranged by the art department, and the sets are gorgeous.  The show feels beautiful and young, like the inside of an old fashioned adventure novel with all the hate trimmed out and tossed away.  It's short, fun and a delight I'm excited to write about.

- The intro song is also - as the kids say - a banger.  It's young and energetic and it's just a fun song

- I always get distracted at the beginning of these watchthroughs.  I'm very easy to distract.  Spoilers below!

- The way they handle the lighting and the characters alternates between making them part of the environment which makes them feel very big and doll like which makes them feel very small which given the themes of the show is very appropriate.

- I've watched almost all of these series before if you can't tell.

- The visual gag of what is ringing is a great way to show us the set and the characters personality, as well as a funny joke.

- (The blue robe and running music already has BBC Sherlock vibes if you want examples, this isn't a compare and contrast though, so this is the last mention of it.)

- The fact he's just running from the cops is great.

- So is that framing in the arches.  Can I take take a moment to cry for this great shot?

- So is that little whistle XD

- One thing I really like about the show is the little details they add.  The extras actually have acting direction and respond to the situation instead of just Walking Past.  It makes the actors seem more outrageous and funny and makes the world seem more alive.  Most directors avoid it because it takes extra time and effort.

- Fun fact!  The director - Zhang Wei Ke - mostly does movies including The Mutant Python 2 which is exactly what you would expect, but exactly what you would expect framed and filmed well. That's the way to do it; no matter what you do, do it well.

- Even small things like hearing the police whistle, seeing Lu Yao's face, and then seeing the police.  It's small things like that which lead to the emotional buildup for funny scenes.

- Also, honey no, what is that weird snake thing, I cannot watch ;-;

- Lu Yao is a goof and makes no secret of it.

- Also "deacon of UK's freemasonry" is an amusing thing to add for a lot of reasons

- The Mystery Begins!

- Some lines for the Common Lines Drinking Game

- This show moves so fast it's hard to write for ;-;

- Lu Yao is definitely a big goof he also uses that goofiness as a smokescreen for all the nonsense he gets up to, but it's real a lot of the time

- The First Clue

- Also, if they're rude to their staff they probably deserve the murder

- I love this bathroom, it's an artpiece and it's glam

- The Murder has arrived!

- Also the face work on these three is lovely

- The quick shots are great because they both show you everything you need to see and their speed distract you from thinking they're too important

- The scene of him vandalizing the car is so good, including the first try of bouncing the rock off the window, and the reveal of the night watchman

- Ah! Bai Youning is amazing and I love her.

- When you fun away from home and you go bother your friend at work

- The emphasis made on the blood like >_>

- The way the information was communicated about the murder is so smart on the part of the murderer

- Lu Yao pulling out his detecting skill, all his reasoning works particularly well because he uses multiple clues to come to a conclusion instead of just, there's ink on your sleeve, you went to Paris last summer

- Qiao Chusheng is so nice and patient with Bai Youning, he's a man who establishes himself quickly as being morally upright (considering his past) and someone who has filial piety

- Also, like, I get who Bai Qili is, I just love him and his birds and all the interactions between him and Qiao Chusheng

- Bai Qili also just has a lot of faith and fondness in Qiao Chusheng it's a really sweet relationship

- Uh oh Qiao Chusheng, you're about to bite off more than you can chew

- He thinking, he considering

- It's not easy to switch back and forth between being a bit silly and being a serious type police man

- And I do feel bad for not having more commentary, this show moves fast

- Lu Yao accidentally found another clue in the autopsy report

- Lu Yao's little face as he found a clue but doesn't want to give away the game

- As goofy as Lu Yao is, he does have moments where you can see a lot is going on below the surface

- Oof!  The facework!  The way Qiao Chusheng's eyes moved!

- It's smart for Lu Yao to play it so close to the vest, he doesn't know much about Qiao Chusheng's personal character yet and too much information too soon is like building a castle on sand

- Qiao Chusheng plays it so cool like he knew all along.

- He gets this little smile, it's great

- And that's it!  Thank you for joining!

[kaypeace21]

Will created the Mindflayer (Theory revisited)

After, watching all 3 seasons I believe the upside down/mindflayer is not only an allegory for Will and El’s (cannon) ptsd/ and trauma but also (because of their powers), has become a physical manifestation (with a life of it’s own). I previously talked about how El made the upside down/demorgorgans and how Will created the mindflayer and demodogs (before s3). However I wanted to add more details to this analysis and  focus on how the Mindflayer represented Will’s darker emotions and thoughts in s3 . So let’s get started.

The original title for Stranger things was “Montauk”- in reference to the Montauk Project. It was about experiments conducted on psychic children, where the scientists would “break” them psychologically to strengthen their powers and to program them.  In one of the stories there was a boy named Duncan who could “open portals to other dimensions and periods of time” . However, one day “Duncan let loose a monster from his subconscious.” 

This is where Stranger Things comes in... El, opened the portal and created the demorgorgans, which represented El’s fears. Joyce and Nancy called the demorgorgan  a “man without a face”, or as El called them repeatedly “the bad men.” The bad men kill (using guns),  while the demorgans are attracted to blood. However, the one time they went after someone who wasn’t bleeding- was when it chased after Will, another psychic child. Brenner even says about the demorgorgan “it’s calling to you for a reason”. And right before El goes to the sensory deprivation tank, Brenner gives her flowers (resembling the opened face of the demorgorgan which resembles a flower). In the Stranger things novel, Suspicious Minds, a psychic character named Alice, even says “ “Monsters...of course my brain has them.” As long as they stayed in there, everything would be all right. “Wouldn’t it?”

The upside down/ opening of the gate/demorgorgan is even described as something that  grows and spreads, “like a cancer”. And something that will eventually kill her, if not confronted (and analogy to suicidal thoughts?)

In s1 Dusting even asks, Eleven “Do you have cancer?” In a literal sense no, but the buzzcut ( which makes people assume she has cancer) represents the abuse she’s been through. And if she doesn’t confront her trauma it will slowly eat away at her until it kills her .  Or the physical manifestation of it will.

The name El is the name of a Canaanite God, which means “god of creation.” When El said in s1 “I’m the monster”, only for Mike to correct her and disagree. In a way they’re both right, it’s not her who is in control. But the monsters (who has a life of its own) represents her darker emotions and fears and is affected by her feelings- and this is why they were mirrored to each other visually.

So the fact that the Mindflayer shows up for the first time when Will is experiencing his “anniversary effect” relating to his ptsd, may not be a coincidence. Don’t you find it strange when Will’s dog died between s1-2, the demorgorgans become demo-dogs?  And once again,  the vines ( put inside Will in s1) and the shadow monster/Mindflayer - are also described as spreading, and we are told that it will kill Will. Will even says “ the more he spreads the more connected to him I feel.” And if I’m right about Will becoming number 12, it’s interesting to point out that 12 is a numeral symbol for “God of creation”, as well.

The other Drs/scientists are extremely callous and say they need to continue the burn (even if it kills Will). However, Dr Owens even says after this “You’re putting a bandaid on this.”  Meaning they aren’t addressing the real problem- Will & El’s trauma.

And I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but if I’m right- this also implies Will was m***sted as a kid (probably by Lonnie), who always called him homophobic slurs. The demorogorgan represented ‘Brenner/ the bad-men’ to El. And the Mindflayer initially represented Lonnie, to Will . Will is even the first to call the Mindflayer a “he”, instead of an it- even though in d&d cannon Mindflayers are “sexless hermaphodites”. 

Also,Will doesn’t initially call the Mindflayer a “he” but an “it”.And if you only take out certain pieces of dialogue between Joyce and Will, when they first talk  about the mind flayer, where they only refer to it as an ‘it’ … and if you put  [‘he/him’] pronouns there instead… then the rest of the discussion about the mind flayer literally sounds… questionable.

Will: “It all just went blank and then you were there”

Joyce: “Will I need you to tell me the truth.”

Will: “I am!”

Joyce: “But …  But I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on. So you have to talk to me. Please. No more secrets, okay? Okay.”

Will: “ [*It] came for me and … and  I tried… I tried to make [*it] go away … but [*it] got me mom”.        (*he, * him,* he)

Joyce: What does that mean?”

Will: “I felt [*it] everywhere. everywhere. I- I still feel [*it]. I just want this to be over!”         (*him, *him)

Joyce: “LOOK AT ME! I Will never let anything bad happen to you ever again!”

And I’m not sure how seriously I should take the cannon spotify playlists. But, the cannon spotify character playlists  (which netflix and spotify worked on and published together after s2) alluded to this on both Jonathan and Will’s playlists. And the only songs about their dads hint at this fact.

Jonathan’s Playlist- We’re happy family: “Eating refried beans (poverty). Gulpin’ down Thorazines (pills for a mood disorder). We ain’t got no friends (s2 ref). Our troubles never end. Daddy likes men. Daddy’s telling lies.”

Enter sandman: “Don’t forget my son. Sleep with one eye open. Gripping your pillow tight, Exit light, Enter night. Take my hand, we’re off to never-never land. Something’s wrong, shut the light, heavy thoughts tonight. Dreams of liars and of things that will bite, yeah. Hush little baby don’t say a word, and never mind that noise you heard. It’s just the beasts under your bed, in your closet in your head.”

Will’s playlist- Creature comfort: “Some boys hate themselves spend their lives resenting their fathers…Some boys get too much, too much love, too much touch... look in the mirror and wait for the feedback”

And if the vines and the shadow monster represent his dad  the fact it enters violently through his mouth,  and the way he describes the Mf first possessing him further reinforces this analogy. Especially since Billy/MF lays on top of his victims, and  right before the monster puts a similar thing in their mouths says (To Heather) “Don’t be afraid. It’ll all be over soon. Just stay very still”, and (to El) “Don’t be afraid . It’ll all be over soon. Just try and stay... very still.” (May indicate Will might have have heard his dad say this  to him, and thats why the Mf says it to his victims.)

The entry of the vine, even causes him to spit out a slug, as he looks back in the mirror (like in the song lyric).

The experience of the vine/slug probably brought back traumatic memories, not to mention his time in the upside down invented new ones. The mindflayer first appears during Will’s ptsd “anniversary effect”. And in s2 when Joyce asked about the mindflayer drawing, Will  lies saying it’s for a story he’s writing . But maybe, unbeknownst to him... it wasn’t actually a lie ? The 1st time Will senses the Mf again in s3, is when he’s watching a movie about zombies (on a ‘date’ with Mike). And in s3, the monster the Mf creates is based “the thing” ( by  merging zombies bodies together)... and we see Will writing the d&d story right next to this ‘The Thing’ poster. The light at it’s head, indicating this whole story may be Will’s idea all along. 

So ‘the thing’, the zombies, defeating it with fire were all referenced to Will- and later showed to unfold in the Mf’s story. And even though d&d always foreshadows later events in the season,  I find it interesting that the one time in the series we see Will write the d&d story... is when it matches MF’s plans. The shadow monster stayed in the real world, after the gate closed (and didn’t do anything for 6 months)? And specifically choses to attack/possess a guy named William who also was abused by his dad and called homophobic slurs (internalized hate perhaps)? And don’t you find it strange that the shadow monster only decides to come out now, in the summer (despite it not liking hot temperatures) when Will is at his lowest point emotionally? Well, it’s because the MF is based on Will’s darker emotions and thoughts.

 S3 was the season that Will was feeling jealous over mileven, and probably coming more to terms with his sexuality -  and this is when the mindflayer/shadow monster decides to strike. Whenever the Mf is close and Will touches his neck relates to his romantic feelings for Mike. 1st time it’s on one of their ‘movie dates’, 2nd time when Mike and El walk off together down the hill, 3rd time right after he smashed castle byers after Mike says “it’s not my fault you don’t like girls”, 4th time when Mike asks him to go away so he can talk to El in the hospital waiting area, and 5th time when Mike says El loves El. 

And again it’s when Will smashes castle Byers that Will first says “He’s back”. Castle byers was built on a rainy night , the same day Will’s  dad left, when Will was 5 (the same age he met Mike). And lonnie called him a “queer” and a “f*g” and forced him to do “normal things” like baseball to have him “be more of a man”. And then on a rainy night, after Mike says “It’s not my fault you don’t like girls”… what does Will destroy castle byers with? A bat. 

Will drew up castle byers before creating it in the real world.  And the fact Will has a baseball bat (despite not liking baseball) in Castle Byers, surrounded by things he loves: drawings, d&d, art supplies, a microscope, comics- just shows what an impact Lonnie’s problematic conditioning and abandonment had on him. He used a baseball bat to destroy something he loves -castle Byers, and symbolically he was trying to reject his feelings for Mike using Lonnie’s old tactics of fixing him. So regardless of what Lonnie did or didn’t do, the correlation between the MF and Lonnie is there. He smashes up castle Byers with a bat (thinking of Lonnie) and then he feels “more connected to him (the Mf)” again, and says ‘he (the Mf) is back’.

The reason we didn’t get Willel, was for a narrative reason. We are shown that Max and El don’t know each other. It’s implied that El almost never leaves the house and just spends her time kissing Mike. So Will never got to have the opportunity to get to know her either. And for Will his resentment of El isn’t simply based on the fact he loves Mike. He insults El calling her a “stupid-girl” just like how Robin said she hated Steve and his “stupid-hair” because the girl she liked , liked him- and of course a lot of that redirected hate isn’t mere jealousy, but projected internalized homophobia. I don’t think a straight person could ever really understand how much hate queer people initially have for themselves when initially figuring things out- so his redirected anger is more than simple jealousy, but just hate for himself. He even looks at a picture of Mike after this and says “so stupid”,  4 times , while at castle Byers.

But honestly, that’s nothing compared to the hate he has/ how he blames her for ruining his life! El might have saved him twice (and it might of been an accident/ dr Brenner who’s really to blame). But Will knows she opened the gate . So to him, he spent a week in a place with no sunlight, food, or breathable air , having to experience that vine, dying, getting ptsd, being ostracized by everyone at school and being called “zombie boy” and a “freak”- being possessed by the MF, getting burned alive, killing Bob (the closest thing to a real father figure) and all those men (making him a murderer), and strangling his mom.Because of her!

And then that’s when s3 starts to make a lot more sense. Will might not want anything bad to actually happen to El but he’s probably had these dark thoughts before.  Will even says about the MF.

He says the real Mf is still in the upside down, but ‘the part that was still in him... was still in their world.’ And it flashes to El’s face as he says it. Essentially the Mf is motivated by his fictionalized story, thoughts/memories of Lonnie, and any dark intrusive thought Will has ever had about El , much to Will’s horror. 

He said in s3 that “I’m not worried about me, mom. I’m worried about you.” So the fact that he strangled her and almost killed her in s2, probably haunts him to this day- and he might of thought, ‘wish I strangled her instead’. And who does Billy/Mf look at right before grabbing her throat, and who is the first reaction shot we see when he starts choking her - Will’s horrified expression!

Maybe the Mf thought El was the most important, and that Will was nothing ( despite all the foreshadowing indicating the Mf held special intentions for Will), because he feels like he’s nothing compared to El? Will even says in s2 it wanted to kill everyone, but him, but now it’s saying that to El only? Maybe because Will wanted her to experience having such an entity say it to her too, and experience the same fear and isolation it caused him? In s2, why did the Mf chase Will and possess him at the school, when El (at the same time) was at the school as well (if it was always after her)? It’s because the Mf’s motivations are linked to Will’s feelings/emotions.

He probably also thought, how would you like a slug crawling/invading your body, huh?And although it doesn’t go to her mouth (probably because he could never wish that on anyone- if it symbolizes what I think it does). She still has a similar experience. And everyone is worried/horrified but Will is the only one sobbing (probably because he thought of this happening to her before).

After this he doesn’t even help move the car, he just stays glued at El’s side as if trying to protect her. And interestingly, this is when El loses her powers. Will may have even thought. If she never had her powers, none of this would have ever happened! Or ‘you guys wouldn’t think she’s so great without her powers.” So did Will accidentally steal her powers?!!!! Maybe. Will has always been associated with bears (along with 3 other animal symbols that El also has).  We see a zoom in shot of Will’s bear drawing right before the demorgorgan takes him from the upside down version of castle byers in s1. Bears symbolically represent  “wisdom” like ‘Will the wise’ and were associated with the demorgorgan/upside down in s1 and 2 as well . Max and Nancy both compared demorrgorgans to bears- and Nancy and Jonathan used a bear-trap to capture the demorgorgan in s1. So when El tries to grab Will’s teddy bear (it was shown to be his in s1) with her powers. And Mike says “they’ll come back”. They might actually come back, because Will and EL’s relationship improves. Mike even tried to give El a golden bear as a gift (so maybe that signifies the giving back of her powers in s4 ?)

Will was always hinted to have powers from the very beginning, so it would be incredibly stupid to just drop this plot point, despite all the foreshadowing. In the 1st episode, Will wins Dustin’s xmen comic in a bet- and Dustin later asks the gang “Do you think Eleven was born with powers like the xmen?” And also before he was sent to the upside down his password for Castle Byers was ‘Rhadagast’ a wizard character from Lord of the Rings. And in the ST prequel novel “Suspicious Minds”  the adult psychics were referenced to both the xmen and lord of the Rings characters. And in the comic, he keeps on saying ‘what would Will- the Wise do’ (his d&d wizard character). Also Dustin straight up called El a “wizard” in the last ep of s1, at Will’s bedside. Not to mention Mike in s2 called Will a “cleric” - and clerics get their powers from a god (cough the mindflayer), and in d&d the wiser the cleric the more powerful they are. And Will’s nickname is ‘Will the wise’? The fact that Will in s1 drew his character with lightning and fire powers- and the fact he barbecued 2 phones in s1 (just like El did to the radio at the school). In s1 was said he could “shadow walk” a wizard d&d power.  The fact he could control lights and manipulate electronics to communicate to his mom from another dimension (and in s1 only El could do that). The fact he literally created a portal through the wall of his house (just like El did at the school in s2). And just the many other hints in s1! The fact that he drew himself in s2 with a crystal ball (which is associated with the powers of scrying and clairvoyance) before being possessed, but just so happen to have those abilities in s2. Dustin also said the only way to defeat the MF is an undead army and Will’s nickname is “zombie boy”. So frankly, his fight with the MF (who is still in the upside down) may not be over. And that new demorgagan in Russia might be a symbol of El’s grief over Hopper’s (perceived) death.

This would honestly, be the only explanation that would allow me to forgive the Duffers . Like you can steal this idea from me! Please! XD

[buzzdixonwriter]

My Five Most Influential

Someone asked:   Who are the most influential writers in your life?

Good question.

The broad answer is that one gets influenced many different ways by many different sources.  I enjoy poetry and song lyrics because they find ways of conveying the strongest emotional content in the most concise manner, music brings a sense of dramatic rhythm and fulfillment, the visual arts suggest ways of subtly adding many insights to a single strong idea, etc., etc., and of course, etc. (and that is also an example of a creative influence in my work).

But…to boil it down to those whom I most consciously made an effort to emulate, we find ourselves facing five creators that primed the pump.

This is not to say others whom I began following after them didn’t wield a lot of influence (thanx, Ernie, Bert, Jack, Bob, and Hank!) but these are the foundation of everything I’ve done in my career.

(And to those who notice a lack of diversity, I know, I know…but to be honest I have to acknowledge the truth, and the truth is for whatever reason, by chance or by choice, by fate or by fortune, these five dominated my sensibilities.  I trust that I’ve grown and expanded my horizons since then, but they’re the hand I got dealt.)

. . . 

Carl Barks

I loved ducks as a kid and my grandmother and aunt would always bring me a passel of duck-related comics when they came to visit.

There were some Daffy Duck comics mixed in there but while I know I looked at and enjoyed them, none of them stick in my mind like the Donald Duck and Uncle Scrooge stories of Carl Barks.

Typically my grandmother would read these comics to me and I’d imprint the dialog and captions in my brain, replaying them as I looked at the pictures over and over again.

Barks never wrote down to his audience, and his stories covered a vast array of genres, everything from straight domestic comedy to oddball adventures to screwy crime stories.

Donald and his nephews encountered dinosaurs more than once (another big favorite of mine), and Uncle Scrooge setting out to explore the asteroid belt in order to find a new home for his fabulous money bin was another tale I loved literally to pieces, but A Christmas For Shacktown remains my all time favorite graphic novel.

I’ll concede there are better graphic novels, but none of them warm my heart the way that Christmas story does.

Barks showed it’s possible to combine heart (not to be confused with sentimentality or =yuch!= schmaltz), vivid characters, and strong, intricate narrative.  His plots where typically filled with unexpected twists and turns but his characters were always deeply involved in them, not just along for the ride.

He’s one of the greatest storytellers in the 20th century, and his work remains timeless enough to last for several centuries to come.

. . . 

Ray Bradbury

The first Ray Bradbury story I remember encountering was “Switch On The Night” in its 1955 edition, read to my kindergarten class towards the end of the school year.

This would place the event sometime in the spring of 1959.

“Switch On The Night” captivated me because it was the first story I’d ever heard that showed what could be seen in the dark that couldn’t be seen in the day.

Even as a child, it made me realize the night wasn’t scary, but contained wonders and insights we miss in the harsh glare of day.

I don’t recall if the kindergarten teacher told us the name of the author, and if she did it didn’t stick, but boy howdy, the story sure did!  Did it open the doors of the night for me, or was I already inclined to be a night person and it simply confirmed that as a valid identity?

I dunno, but I’m typing this right now at 12:24am.

And the thoughts Bradbury planted in little Buzzy boy’s brain stayed and grew and flowered, as you can read in my poem, “The Magic Hours Of The Night”.

The next time I encountered Ray Bradbury’s writing was in grammar school, certainly no later than junior high.  I was already interested in science fiction by that point, and had read “The Pedestrian” in one of my school English books (we weren’t taught the story in class; the teacher skipped over it for whatever reason but I read it anyway then re-read it and read it again and again).

Anthony Boucher’s ubiquitous 2-volume A Treasury Of Great Science Fiction was in my grammar school library and in it was Bradbury’s “Pillar Of Fire” (which I would later learn was one of his alternate Martian Chronicles and a crossover with Fahrenheit 451) and in that story he offered up a veritable laundry list of outré and outlandish fiction to be tracked down and read, authors to dig up and devour.

Oh, man, I was hooked.

So of course I began looking for all the stories and writers Bradbury listed in his short story but I also began looking for Bradbury’s own work and before you could say, “Mom, can I get a subscription to the Science Fiction Book Club?” I’d read The Golden Apples Of The Sun and A Medicine For Melancholy and R is For Rocket never once dreaming that at some point in the future the roadmap Ray plopped down in my lap would eventually lead to us being co-workers (separate projects, but the same studio at the same time) and friends.

There is a beautiful yet deceptive simplicity to Ray’s work, and even though he wrote his own book on writing (The Zen Of Writing) that has lots of good insights and professional tricks & tips, he himself wasn’t able to explain how he did it.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen a good Ray Bradbury parody.

I’ve seen parodies that clearly are intended to evoke Ray Bradbury, but only in the same way a clumsy older relative might evoke Michael Jackson with a spasmodic movement one vaguely recognizes as a failed attempt at a moonwalk.

But, lordie, don’t think we didn’t try to emulate him, and while none of us fanboys ever came close, I think a lot of us did learn that less is more, that the right word carries more impact than a dozen paragraphs, and that there’s magic in even the most ordinary of things.

And of course I discovered the film and TV adaptations of his work, and in discovering them I also discovered that there are some things that just can’t be translated from one media to another, and that the light, effortless appeal of Ray’s work on the page (paper or pixel) can at best be recaptured with a good audio book reader but even the best dramatic adaptions -- even those by Ray himself -- are cold dead iron butterflies compared to the light and lively creatures flying about.

So eventually I stopped trying to write like him, and instead picked up the valuable lessons of mood and emotion making an impact on a story even if the plot didn’t make much logical sense.

Decades later I would become a fan of opera, and would learn the philosophy of all opera lovers:  Opera doesn’t have to make logical sense, it just has to make emotional sense.

Ray Bradbury, opera meister.

. . . 

H.P. Lovecraft

As noted above, Bradbury’s “Pillar Of Fire” tipped me to numerous other writers, first and foremost of which turned out to be Howard Phillips Lovecraft.

Okay, before we get any further into this, let’s acknowledge the woolly mammoth in the room:  H.P. Lovecraft was a colossal asshat racist.

He was a lot of other terrible things, too, but racist is far and ahead of the rest of the pack.

It’s a disillusioning thing to find people one admired as a youngster or a teen later prove to have not just quirks and eccentricities and personal flaws, but genuinely destructive, harmful, and offensive characters.

I’ve posted on that before, too.

How I wish it were possible to retroactively scale back that hurtfulness, to make them more empathetic, less egregiously offensive (in the military sense of the word), but that ain’t so.

We have to acknowledge evil when we see it, and we have to call it out, and we have to shun it.

Which is hard when one of its practitioners provides a major influence in our creative lives.

Here’s what I liked about Lovecraft as a kid:  He was the complete opposite of Ray Bradbury.

Bradbury’s instinctive genius was in finding the right word, the simple word that conveyed great impact on the story, drawing the reader into the most fantastic situations by making them seem more familiar on a visceral level.

Lovecraft achieved the exact opposite effect by finding the most arcane, bedizened, baroque, florid, grandiloquent, overwrought, rococo verbiage possible and slapping the reader repeatedly in the face with it.

If Bradbury made the unreal real, Lovecraft made the weird even more weirder.

And let’s give this devil his due:  The Strange Case Of Charles Dexter Ward and The Dunwich Horror are two masterpieces of horror and serve as the bridge between Edgar Allen Poe and Stephen King, not to mention his creation of Cthulhu and other ancient entities existing beyond the ken of human knowledge…

…oh, wait, that’s where the story simultaneously gets messy yet provides a convenient escape hatch for fans.

While Lovecraft created Cthulhu, he did not create the Cthulhu Mythos.

That was primarily the invention August Derleth, a writer / editor / agent and H.P. Lovecraft’s #1 fanboy.

Lovecraft had some loosely related ideas in his stories and several themes he revisited repeatedly (in addition to racism).

He also had a circle of fellow writers -- including such heavy hitters as Robert “Psycho” Bloch and Robert E. “Conan” Howard -- who picked up on his ideas and, as way of a tribute, incorporated them in some of their stories.

Derleth took all this and Lovecraft’s unfinished manuscripts and short ideas he jotted down and turned it into a whole post-mortem industry, linking all of Lovecraft and other writers’ tales.

And he did a damn fine job of it, too.

So much so that the Cthulhu Mythos has taken on a life of its own, and pretty much anybody can play in that cosmic sandbox now (including Big Steve King and a ton of Japanese anime) and so Lovecraft’s works have an enormous influence on pop culture…

,,,but Howard hizzowndamsef can be -- and is -- cancelled.

Derleth and various biographers downplayed Lovecraft’s virulent racism for decades, and I don’t think Ray Bradbury was ever aware of the scope and tenor of Lovecraft’s bigotry when he name checked him in “Pillar Of Fire” and other stories.

In a similar vein Bradbury didn’t know -- because thanks again to overly protective literary executors, nobody knew -- just how big a racist asshat Walt Whitman was, either.  It is one thing to call shenanigans on a Bill Cosby or a Harvey Weinstein or a Donald Trump because their egregious behaviors were noted long before they were held accountable, but quite another to do so on a creator who died while hiding their most awful behavior from thousands if not millions of fans who felt inspired and uplifted by their work.

It’s one thing to call out a contemporary bigot and not support them by not buying their work, it’s quite another when their bigotry has been shielded from view and fair minded, decent people have used their work to draw inspiration into their own creativity.

Of course, I had no way of knowing all this when I was in junior high and seriously began tracking down Lovecraft’s work.  

He possessed a flair of the horrific and unearthly that to this day is hard to match (but easier to parody).  He was a tremendous influence on my early writing (truth be told, I zigzagged between Bradbury’s stark simplicity and Lovecraft’s overarching verbosity, giving my early oeuvre a rather schizophrenic style) and the ideas he sparked still reverberate to this day.

If only he hadn’t been such a giant %#@&ing asshat racist …

. . . 

Harlan Ellison

In a way, I’m glad neither Harlan nor his widow Susan are alive to read this.

I cherished Harlan as a friend and greatly admired his qualities as a writer.

But damn, by his own admission he should have been thrown in prison for aggravated assault on numerous occasions (he was courts martialed three times while in the Army).

We’re not talking about arguments that spiraled out of control until a few wild punches were thrown, we’re talking about Harlan by his own admission stalking and ambushing people, knocking them unconscious or causing grievous bodily harm.

We’re talking about sexual abuse and humiliation.

We’re talking about incidents he admitted to which if true put people in life threatening situations.

And yet ironically, in a certain sense Harlan (a bona fide Army Ranger, BTW) was like the U.S. Marine Corps:  You’d never have a greater friend or a worse enemy.

I became dimly aware of Harlan in the late 1960s as I started diving deeper into literary sci-fi, transitioning from monster kid fandom to digests and paperbacks.  Harlan first caught my attention with his macho prose (years later a similar style also drew me to Charles Bukowski) in stories like “Along the Scenic Route” (a.k.a. “Dogfight on 101”) in which Los Angelinos engaged in Mad Max motor mayhem but soon it became apparent the macho posturing was just a patina, that the heart and soul of much of the work reflected great sensitivity and often profound melancholy (ditto Bukowski).

Harlan was a fighter, and again by his own admission, he acknowledged in his later years that he was not a fighter because his cause was just, but rather sought out just causes because he knew he would be fighting regardless of his position, yet possessed a strong enough moral compass to point himself in the direction of a worthy enemy…

…most of the time.

He hurt and offended a large number of innocent and some not-so-innocent-but-certainly-not-evil people.

He also helped and encouraged a large number of others, people who had no idea who he was, people who had no way of adequately reciprocating his kindness and generosity.

He defended a lot of defenseless people.

He also mistakenly defended a lot of terrible people.

If someone tells me Harlan was a monster, I’ll agree:  Monstre sacré.

What made his writing sacred was that no matter how outlandish the situation, Harlan dredged up from the depths emotions so strong as to be frightening in their depiction.

Skilled enough not to lose sight of humanity, outlandish enough to conjure up ideas and emotions most people would shy away from, Harlan hit adolescent Buzzy boy like an incendiary grenade.

Unlike my first three literary influences, Harlan was and remained active in the fannish circles where I was circulating at the time.  He regularly wrote letters and columns for various fanzines, including a few I subscribed to.

In a literary sense he stood, naked and unashamed, in full view of the world, and that willingness to go beyond mundane sensibilities is what made his work so compelling.

He certainly fired me up as an adolescent writer, and proved an amalgam of Bradbury and Lovecraft that got my creative juices flowing in a coherent direction.

I don’t think I ever consciously tried to imitate him in my writing, but I sure learned from him, both in how to charge a story with emotion and how to fight for what’s right regardless of the blow back.

I loved him as a friend.

But, damn, Harlan…you could act so ugly...

. . .

H. Allen Smith

Who?

Most of you have never heard of H. Allen Smith, and that’s a damn shame.

I’d never heard of him either until I stumbled across a coverless remaindered copy of Poor H. Allen Smith’s Almanac in a Dollar General Store bin in Tennessee in the late 1960s (it was a memorable shopping expedition:  I also purchased Thomas Heggen’s Mister Roberts and Let’s Kill Uncle by Rohan O'Grady [pen name of June Margaret O'Grady Skinner]).

Reading Smith’s editorial comments (in addition to his own essays and fiction he edited numerous humor anthologies) I realized I’d found a kindred soul.

Smith had a very conversational tone as a writer; his prose seemed off the cuff and unstructured, but he slyly used that style to hide the very peculiar (and often perverse) path he led readers down.

He sounded / read like a garrulous guy at the bar, one with a huge number of charming, witty (and delightfully inebriated) friends in addition to his own bottomless well of tall tales, pointed observations, and rude jokes.

Of all the writers mentioned above, that style is the one I most consciously tried to emulate, and one I seem to have been able to find my own voice in (several people have told me I write the same way I talk, a rarity among writers).

Smith was hilarious whether wearing an editor’s visor or a freelancer’s fool’s cap.  If you know who H. L. Mencken was, think of Smith as a benign, better tempered version of that infamous curmudgeon (and if you don’t know, hie thee hence to Google and find out).

Compared to my other four influences, Smith didn’t need to add the fantastic to his fiction:  The real world was weird and wacky and whimsical enough.

A newspaper man turned best selling author, Smith became among the most popular humorists of the 1940s-50s-60s…

…and then he died and everybody forgot him.

Part of the reason they forgot is that he wrote about things that no longer seem relevant (TV cowboys of the early television era, f’r instance, in Mr. Zip) or are today looked upon askance (and with justifiable reason; the ethnic humor in many of his anthologies may not have been intended as mean spirited, but it sure doesn’t read as a celebration of other cultures, viz his succinct account of an argument following a traffic accident between two native Honolulu cabbies rendered in pidgin:  “Wassamatta you?”  “’Wassmatta me’?!?!?  Wassamatta you ‘Wassamatta me’?  You wassamatta!”).

I’m sure I picked up a great many faults from Smith, but Smith also had the virtue of being willing and able to learn and to make an effort to be a better person today than he was yesterday, and better still tomorrow.

I’ve certainly tried applying that to my life.

Smith’s style was also invoked -- consciously or not -- by other writers and editors, notably Richard E. Geis, the editor of the legendary sci-fi semi-prozone, Science Fiction Review (among other titles).  Smith died before I could meet him, but while I never met Dick Geis face to face we were pen pals for over 40 years.

Geis certainly sharpened specific aspects of my writing style, but the real underlying structure came from H. Allen Smith.

Smith’s work is hard to find today (in no small part because whenever I encounter one in the wild I snap it up) but I urge you to give him a try.

Just brace yourself for things we might consider incorrect today.

. . . 

So there’s my top five. 

With the exception of Carl Barks and Ray Bradbury, none of them are without serious flaw or blemish (though Smith seems like a decent enough sort despite his fondness for X-rated and ethnic humor).

In my defense as an impressionable child / teen, I was not aware of these flaws and blemishes when I first encountered their writing (primarily because in many cases efforts were made to hide or downplay those aspects).

The positive things I gleaned from them are not negated by the negative personal information that came out later.

I can, for the most part re the more problematic of them, appreciate their work while not endorsing their behavior.

Ellison can only be described in extremes, but his fire and passion -- when directed in a positive direction -- served as a torch to light new paths (his two original anthologies, Dangerous Visions and Again, Dangerous Visions, pretty much blew the doors off old school sci-fi and belatedly dragged the genre kicking and screaming into the 20th century).

Lovecraft I can effectively ignore while finding entertainment value in the Cthulhu Mythos.

But I must acknowledge this isn’t the same for everyone.

For example, as innocuous as I find H. Allen Smith, if a woman or a member of a minority group said, “I found this in particular to be offensive” I’d probably have to say, yeah, you’re right.

But I can still admire the way he did it, even if I can no longer fully support what he did.

. . . 

By the time I reached high school, I’d acquired enough savvy to regard to literary finds a bit more dispassionately, appreciating what they did without trying to literally absorb it into my own writing.

I discovered for myself the Beat generation of writers and poets, the underground cartoonists of the late 60s and 70s, Ken Kesey, Joseph Heller, Philip K. Dick, Ursula K. LeGuin, and a host of others, some already alluded to.

Some, such as the Beats and Bukowski, I could enjoy for their warts and all honest self-reflection.

Yes, they were terrible people, but they knew they were terrible people, and they also knew there had to be something better, and while they may never have found the nirvana they sought, they at least sent back accurate reports of where they were in their journeys of exploration.

By my late teens, I’d become aware enough of human foibles and weaknesses -- every human’s foibles and weaknesses, including my own -- to be very, very cautious in regarding an individual as admirable.

While I will never accept creativity as an excuse for bad behavior, if a creator is honest enough and self-introspective enough to recognize and acknowledge their own failings, it goes a long way towards my being willing to enjoy their work without feeling I’m endorsing them as individuals.

It’s not my place to pass judgment or exoneration on others bad behavior.

It is my place to see that I don’t emulate others’ bad behavior.

Every creator is connected to their art, even if it’s by-the-numbers for-hire hack work.

Every creator puts something of themselves into the final product.

And every member of the audience must decide for themselves if that renders the final product too toxic to be enjoyed. 

    © Buzz Dixon

[theshatteredrose]

Turquoise Lotus Father (Treasure Seekers Saga 2) - Chapter 23 - Etrian Odyssey 5 Fanfiction

AN: Whew, sorry for the wait! Still dealing with headaches and migraines, but at least I have an MRI scan on Friday. Hopefully, these headaches will leave me soon so I can get back to writing properly. Moving on, this is the last chapter to this saga. After I finish my short Trails of Mana fic, I will work on a completely original novel. So I hope when I begin, you, my lovely readers, will give it try.

Until then, I hope you’ll enjoy reading~!

Ao3 | Wattpad | FFNet

Chapter 23:

The gentle glow of the fireplace was the only source of illumination within the seating room. Night had fallen, the overcast cloudy sky hid the moon’s light. Drayce his guildmates, waiting in anticipation of what their talented scholars had learned through the readings of the documents and scrolls found within the altar that held the Cursed Blade.

He sat on the three-seater couch with Faelen on his left, and Caelem to his right. Zohar stood quietly by the large bay windows as he gazed outside. Blayke sat on the edge of the armchair next to Caelem, seemingly idly watching the flames within the hearth. He was also subtly keeping an eye on Tokala and Salim who sat close to the fire, staying together and keeping warm. Nashoba rested with them, sleeping next to Tokala. Finally, Fiorello rested in a high-back chair, engrossed in a book he was reading.

Runihura and Palash had chosen to stay in their room. Runihura was still recovering from his injuries that Keane had ruthlessly inflicted upon him. And, unsurprisingly, Palash had chosen to stay with him.

And the rest of his guild were in the library.

Finally, they all heard the familiar sounds of footsteps descending the stairs. Footsteps growing louder as they approached.

“Sorry to keep you all waiting,” Kamali stated as he walked into the room with his brother and Ashton.

While Kamali moved to stand by the couch where Faelen sat, Shashi moved to be at the centre of attention. Ashton chose to stay by the room’s entrance, leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest.

“Well, it took a while but we’ve managed to translate the text found within the altar of the Curse Blade. Unfortunately, many of the scrolls were damaged or had faded due to time. And it tells nothing of what had occurred during the Legendary War. But it holds some interesting information regardless,” Shashi explained. In his hands was his trusty notebook. “Ready, Caelem?”

“Yes!” Caelem immediately replied, his enthusiasm barely restrained. “I want to know everything.”

Shashi offered him a small smile as he brought up the notebook and flipped through several of the pages.

“Shall I start with the mysterious figure known as Sorataki? It appears that he was a Therian that was friends with both the Turquoise Lotus Father and his brother, the Blood Lotus Brother. He was considered an oddity of the Therian race for being interested in the teachings of rituals and magic rather than the art of the blade.

But those skills became useful when the brothers learnt of the plot to reawaken the Cursed Blade. With Sorataki’s help, they were able to seal the Cursed Blade away. Also, they placed a spell upon the Shining Lotus so that it would only reveal itself when the Cursed Blade awoke.”

“Awoke?” Blayke questioned, his brow furrowed. “Did the lotus blades have a consciousness?”

“In a sense.” Shashi flipped over a page of his notebook. “Like how the Radiant Moon held devas because of the crystals used, the lotuses held the same.”

Hmmm, that led to the question of where the Cursed Blade got its consciousness. Though, it could be through the use of a sigil or curse. The creator of such a blade certainly didn’t have benign intentions.

Next to him, Faelen raised his hand meekly. “Um, can I ask how could they have known that someone like Caelem would be there to wield the Shining Lotus when the Cursed Blade woke up?”

“Of course he would be there,” Shashi answered somewhat dismissively. “The descendant of the Turquoise Lotus Father would wish to help in any way he could.”

Drayce drew in a breath. That…was quite the discovery!

It took Caelem to fully register what Shashi had just revealed. And when it did, he tensed in his seat in complete surprise. “D-descendant?!”

Shashi uttered a light chuckle as he folded an arm loosely across his chest. “Yes. According to the documents found within the altar, the Shining Lotus would only reveal itself to the one who carries the blood and will of the Turquoise Lotus Father.”

With his eyes still wide in surprise, Caelem slumped back into his seat. Gobsmacked. “That’s…”

“That’s amazing!” Faelen said in delight as he flopped across Drayce’s lap so that he could get closer toward Caelem.

Drayce just chuckled. He couldn’t say he was all that surprised. Though, he did understand Caelem’s surprise completely. He had gone through the exact same thing when he learnt about Aura.

Still perched on the edge of the armchair, a slight frown tugged at Blayke’s lips as he looked over at Caelem. He looked surprisingly worried. “The Turquoise Lotus Father appears to really be your ancestor. What will you do now?”

Caelem didn’t answer. Instead, his expression shifted into a look of contemplation. His gaze drifted down to the floor in front of him. Yet, he didn’t take anything in visually. He was lost to his own thoughts.

Faelen regarded Caelem’s silence with a sense of trepidation. “You’re…not going to head back to your village, are you?” he asked, his ears flattening against his head.

That…was a possibility. Especially since the Shining Lotus was in Caelem’s possession. Drayce hadn’t taken that into consideration, honestly. He…couldn’t really see his guild without Caelem being a part of it.

Though, it was ultimately his choice.

“Masuraos…are to pledge themselves to a worthy cause…” Caelem murmured.

Drayce had heard stories of the loyalty of Masuraos and their pledges to others. Some would dedicate their whole lives for the sake of another. Even if that put their very lives at risk.

He…didn’t want that. He didn’t want to be someone’s soul purpose. Their burden.

Caelem suddenly turned to face him with a sense of determination. “Drayce, I-”

“Wait.” Drayce raised his hand to stop Caelem for just the moment. He had some idea of what he was to say next. “I’ll accept your loyalty and your friendship. But your pledge should come from the heart, and pledge your heart to someone who will return it. That pledge, after all, deserves someone special. Far more special than me.”

Caelem was genuinely startled by Drayce’s reply. And Drayce feared that he may have offended him. But he didn’t want to string him along like that. He deserved to make his own decisions. For his benefit along for the benefit of others.

“…Yes, I understand,” Caelem finally answered as an unexpected flush appeared across his cheeks. “I’ll stay until I find a reason to make that pledge.”

Drayce gave him a smile, honestly relieved. He was sure that the others of their guild were also greatly relieved to hear that. And he was sure that his ancestor, Turquoise Lotus Father, would be happy with that decision, also.

“What of the Cursed Blade, though?” Blayke suddenly asked.

“Ah, yes, there is more information,” Shashi lifted his notebook again but instead of looking at the pages, he glanced over in Drayce’s direction. “Drayce, you said that the Cursed Blade was summoned, yes?”

Drayce nodded as he rested his hand on Faelen’s back, allowing the rover to stay comfortably flopped over his lap. “That’s right. We didn’t know of the altar until after everything had happened.”

Shashi nodded and turned back to his notes. “Then that means, Tokala is the descendant to the Turquoise Lotus Father’s brother, the Blood Lotus Brother.”

Tokala immediately stuttered. “W-what?”

Well, talk another bombshell!

Shashi continued; “The blade is drawn to the blood of the one that wielded it without fully succumbing to the darkness held within the blade. The Blood Lotus Brother was the only one who did not succumb to the darkness, did not become a mindless puppet to the will of the blade. His actions were controlled, but his conscious remained intact.”

He turned to give Tokala his attention. “And you; you also didn’t succumb to the control of the blade. You fought back. Just like the Blood Lotus Brother tried. So, the Cursed Blade was drawn to the one strong enough to wield it successfully. You have a light, innocent heart. The brighter the light, the darker the darkness. To control you fully would grant the Cursed Blade more power. It was also likely wishing to seek revenge against the Blade Brothers who dared to defy its will.”

Silence fell over the room as they waited for Tokala to understand, or at least mentally comprehend what he had just learnt. It was a lot for him to take in.

“Am…am I susceptible to the pull of the Cursed Blade?” Tokala asked softly.

“That is something that the Blood Lotus Brother himself had feared,” Shashi revealed. “Yet, he didn’t. And you didn’t wilfully seek the blade for yourself, did you now?”

Tokala shook his head. “No…”

“Then there is nothing to fear.”

Tokala still looked worried. And pale. Drayce was empathetic and wanted to try to comfort him somehow. “That’s right. Besides, if anything should happen, Caelem will take on the Cursed Blade with ease.” He turned toward the masurao next to him. “Right?”

“Yes,” Caelem immediately replied. No hesitation or reluctance in his voice. “I do not fear having to face the Cursed Blade in battle, should the need arise again.”

Drayce smiled. That wasn’t from bravado, but from confidence. “Then there really is nothing to fear.”

That gave Tokala a bit of comfort and he gave Caelem a small smile. That smile abruptly disappeared as his hand flew up to touch the red gemstone that hung around his neck. “W-wait, my necklace…”

“The Blood Lotus Brother was given the Scarlet Lotus to act as Guardian over the chest that hid the location of both blades. He believed it to be the redemption he needed to rest his soul, and allow his descendants to carry on his legacy.”

Tokala’s hand tightened around the red gemstone of his necklace. “I...really am related to the Blood Lotus Brother?”

Faelen turned his head toward Drayce and gave him a questioning look. “That means that Caelem and Tokala are distantly related, right?”

“Right,” Drayce smiled as he glanced over in Tokala’s direction. “You found a member of your family after all, Tokala.”

Finally, a smile made its way upon his lips. “I really did.”

“Well, that is all the information we managed to gleam from the writing documents,” Shashi finished as he flipped his notebook closed and rested it under his arm.

As the others began to talk amongst themselves, Drayce sat back into his seat and mused to himself. It was a shame they couldn’t learn more about the Turquoise Lotus Father himself, but their previous research had discovered enough. And from what they did learn, he appeared to be a humble therian. He likely didn’t want much known about him. Just the essentials.

His time during the Legendary War was more likely than not extremely painful for him to endure. It would have been, with his brother unwillingly working alongside the notorious Despot himself.

“Drayce.” Ashton uttering his name pulled Drayce from his musings. And as he turned in his direction, Ashton made a quick motion with his head toward the foyer behind him. “A quick word, if you would?

Drayce blinked. “Hm? Sure.”

Faelen slipped off of Drayce’s lap, allowing him to stand up. He quickly shuffled to take his seat so that he could continue to speak with Caelem.

He followed Ashton out into the foyer and over to the entrance way into the dining hall. “What’s up?”

Ashton took a moment to glance over Drayce’s shoulder and into the seating room before shifting his gaze back to him. “Well, there’s something that Shashi and I would like to keep from Caelem and Tokala for now,” he admitted quietly.

Ok, that was a little concerning.

“What is it?”

“Well, it’s not so much information, rather a feeling.” Ashton shifted on his feet as he folded his arms across his chest. “The documents don’t mention the name of the one who created the Cursed Blade. Either version of it. Despot was likely to have been the one who ordered the crafting of the first Cursed Blade. But the second? There’s no mention. And this…situation feels unfinished to me.”

…Yeah, it kinda did, didn’t it?

“Keane muttered something,” Drayce admitted, his voice as equally quiet. “He was working for someone else. And Despot was believed to have many loyal generals of his own. You don’t think…?”

If the generals that battled alongside the Legendary Earthlain Dragoon had descendants, who was to say that the generals of the Despot didn’t?

Ashton pressed his lips tightly together, indicating that he had considered the possibility, too. “Perhaps we’re being overly cautious, but…I believe it is a good idea to keep the Shining Lotus here. Caelem is truly the only one who can wield it.”

“I agree.” Drayce was also glad that Caelem had made the decision to stay with them. “It would allow no other. Just like the Radiant Moon, right?”

“More likely than not,” Ashton agreed.

Drayce glanced toward the seating room for a brief moment, watching as Caelem and Tokala interacted with one another. They had grown close. Acting very much like brothers. “Though, in the end, Tokala never learnt why he was seemingly abandoned when he was a child,” he mused aloud.

Ashton shifted on his feet again. Somewhat uncomfortably this time. “This is just speculation,” he started. “But perhaps it was a desperate attempt to keep him safe? A therian was after the Cursed Blade, right? Perhaps a family member of his decided he would be safer with a family of protective pugilists. Sometimes, families do desperate things to protector one of their own.”

Huh…That almost sounded like he knew that from experience.

“That sounds plausible, though that also raises more questions,” Drayce replied, running a hand through his hair. “Still…I’m afraid Tokala will need to be satisfied with the answers he got for now. There is always a possibility that he could learn more about his past somewhere in the future.”

“Very true,” Ashton promptly agreed before he dropped his arms from his chest and gave him a small smile. “Best head back in there. Your guildmates are probably missing you.”

Drayce gave a small laugh. “Right.”

… … … … …

Drayce stood in Caelem’s room and watched as Caelem carefully set about ensuring that the Shining Lotus with its turquoise encrusted sheath sat perfectly balanced upon the wall next to his bed. After he was satisfied, he took a step back to stand next to Drayce, the both of them turning to admiring the ancient blade.

Despite it being over a thousand years old, it was in pristine condition. And very beautiful. The turquoise stones seemed to sparkle with an inner light. And the blade itself was flawless. As if it had been crafted with expert hands just moments ago.

“Is it really ok to keep the Shining Lotus here?” Caelem asked him.

“Yes, I believe so,” Drayce quickly answered. “It looks good on your bedroom wall, don’t you think?”

Caelem nodded. “Yes. And the Cursed Blade is safe in the council treasure vault. And…if anyone should try to steal it, I’ll stop them. Before anyone is hurt.”

Determined and confident, but no arrogance. Caelem was quite the guy, wasn’t he?

“Right. And you won’t have to do it alone. Not when you have guildmates more than willing to help.”

With a smile now gracing his lips, Caelem nodded his head again. “You’re right.”

They fell into a comfortable silence as Caelem continued to gaze upon the Shining Lotus. He was likely musing about all the information he had learnt about his village’s founding father. And how he seemed to be the legendary therian’s descendant.

It was a lot to take in. Drayce knew that well.

Caelem broke the silence with a question. “Is this how you felt when you realised Aura was an ancestor of yours?”

“Proud?” Drayce questioned in return, quickly gaining a nod from the therian beside him. “Yeah.”

“I’ll make him proud.”

“I’m sure you already have.”

Caelem suddenly chuckled. “Hah…”

Drayce tilted his head curiously at him. “Hm?”

“I’m just thinking about how lucky I am to meet you,” Caelem admitted with a light dusting of pink across the bridge of his nose. “Blayke, Faelen, Kamali, Zohar, Shashi, Ashton, Fiorello…Carrying the Moon Legacy was worth it for bringing me to this guild.” He paused, struggling to find the next words. “I’m…happy.”

That…was good to hear. Truly.

“We’re also lucky,” Drayce added. “And happy to have you here.”

A light pink flush appeared on Caelem’s features. Though looking shyly embarrassed, he was happy by the response all the same. “So, what treasure will we discover next?” he asked, somewhat excitedly.

Good question!

“I dunno,” Drayce replied casually. “But its going to fun finding out, right?”

Caelem was definitely enthusiastic in his reply. “Yes!”

Drayce suddenly stilled as realisation hit him in the middle of the forehead. “Ah, before all that, though; we better find those stairs.”

Caelem stiffened, realisation also hitting him abruptly. “Oh, right. I forgot about them.”

The two shared a sheepish look for a drawn-out moment before submitting to a bout of laughter.

Ah, it was fine! After all, their guild was bigger now. And they found the Shining Lotus along with the Cursed Blade, two relics purposely hidden. They were sure to be able to find a set of stairs. No problem.

Third floor to the labyrinth, here they come!

[jacksonhenry297]

Things You May Have Overlooked in The Final Season of BoJack Horseman

BoJack Horseman surprisingly became a household name; the Netflix original animated series touched hearts all over the world. Historically, pop culture uses animated characters as the butt of the joke. But not BoJack. As we look back at the last and the best season the show had to offer, highlighted below are seven sneaky details that you might’ve missed while watching this epic finale season.

The     Reference to ‘Watchmen’

One of the early surprises is when we saw Mr. Peanutbutter change from the good old’ chirpy retriever to the “face of depression” as the meme “Sad Dog” was born. Eventually, he finds himself much closer to this meme than his older self. At one point, he told Princess Carolyn about a doctor who suggested that Mr. Peanutbutter check out his meme to cheer him up. (Oh, the irony) The joke was a reference to the classic graphic novel by Alan Moore, ‘Watchmen.’ Rorshach, a character from the novel, tells us the tale of a clown named Pagliacci whose doctor suggested him to catch the local clown perform to uplift his spirits, unaware that the clown was none but Pagliacci himself.

Tar     Pit

Any of the last three episodes can act as the finale of the series. Pick anyone out of the three, and it would be just the right goodbye to this darkly-warming series.  A black goat follows BoJack the whole episode. While we understand this goo as a visual representation of death, it could also refer to an older concept in the show. When Charlotte describes LA while talking to BoJack in New Mexico, she uses the word ‘Tarpit’, and how just by changing our location, we can’t change ourselves.

Rehashed     Characters for Rehab

In the finale of the previous season, BoJack goes to Rehab to work on his addictions. This is followed in season 6 as well, where we see how BoJack looks inside to find his enemies rather than projecting them onto the world. And the Rehab has some of the characters from older seasons, who showed substance abuse symptoms at some point. We see Shitshow from Season 3 and Queen Antonia’s servant from Season 4. Sissy, who was the brother of Ralph Stilton, Princess Carolyn’s ex-beau, is also seen trying to rehabilitate himself, possibly from the cocaine addiction that runs in the family.

Narcissus

As if a match was made in heaven, BoJack is exhibit A for narcissism. He epitomizes the feeling of self-indulgence and never fails to see his part in everything around him. When he gifts Princess Carolyn a painting, he thought it was about him, although it is based on a real painting by David Hockney.

17     Minutes

According to BoJack, he never hit rock bottom. But if someone were to guess, it had to be the death of Sarah Lyn. She was the closest thing he had to a connection, and she died right in his arms. What makes it more devastating was the disclosure that he waited 17 minutes before calling the paramedics, 17 crucial minutes that could’ve saved Sarah Lyn. And in “The view from halfway down,” BoJack is unsure of what is happening around him, why he’s seeing all his dead friends and family, until he realizes he’s drowning in his pool, exactly 17 minutes into the episode.

Fire     flame

The show gives us as close to a happy ending as such a dark show could’ve. It can be compared to Breaking Bad and Dexter’s likes, where most of the audience agrees with the justice done to the lead character. BoJack did redeem himself at the end, a version of himself anyway. And similarly, a loose thread from the past, GinaCazador, who became the victim of BoJack’s aggressive-drugged-spree, is cast in a movie directed by Kelsey Jennings, which was a welcome surprise as we saw how other people in the industry started calling her ‘difficult’ while she was just traumatized.

Cabracadabra

A recurring theme was to try and bring about a valid solution to real-life problems and show how these could work. Cabracadabra was a company created by Todd and his high-school girlfriend, Emily, to help women feel safer while using cabs. First seen in Season 3, BoJack didn’t think it was going to be a good idea. But we see in the Season 6 episode, “The Kidney Stays in the Picture,” BoJack gets into a purple Cabracadabra and heads home.

 Jackson Henry. I’m a writer living in USA. I am a fan of technology, arts, and reading. I’m also interested in writing and education. You can read my blog with a click on the button above.

Source- BoJack Horseman

[adoranymph]

That’s right! It’s been far too long, and I need to do another discussion of, what remains to this day, my #1 anime: Fate/Zero. Oh darling, how I’ve missed talking about you.

First off, I’m probably one of the few people on the planet who, for the most part, doesn’t take too much issue with the concept of prequels. I get why such stories are flawed and inherently so. Going into that kind of detail on something that was only mentioned in passing as a previous event in an original work can be detrimental to that work, punching in plot holes and whatnot. Plus, it takes away the mystery that some find more appealing about the “story before”: giving a detailed account of that takes away that mystery.

Speaking for me personally though, I kinda like it. I mean, I’m the kind of person who squees on the inside at stuff like Thranduil at the end of the third Hobbit film telling his son Legolas that he might want to look into finding a Dunedain ranger named “Strider”, a.k.a. Aragorn, son of Arathorn, a.k.a. the once and future king of Lord of the Rings, timeline consistency be damned! I love Easter Eggs in all their forms.

Which means perhaps I’m biased on this opinion, and to a degree, I am. But, I still think objectively as well as subjectively that Fate/Zero really does work well as a prequel.

Why?

A few reasons, but:

The short answer? It’s a tragedy.

In both the classical and the emotional gut-punching sense.

In the classical sense, we’re talking about actions that have consequences that are inevitable. In the emotional gut-punching sense, it’s that those consequences utterly destroy our heroes and heroines in their feels.

Anyone who’s experienced the original Fate/Stay Night, either in anime or visual novel form, or both, already knows that the consequences to many of the actions taken by the characters in Zero are inevitable. At the same time, for anyone who’s watching it before watching any of the other Fate material as a stepping off point for the franchise, it still works as a strong story of characters who sabotage their own goals through their own flaws, made tragic by how earnest they are in endeavoring to overcome them. Not to mention the sheer number of feels and brutal deaths and OMG this anime. (They didn’t give its original light novel writer, Gen Urobuchi, the sobriquet of “Urobutcher” for nothing.)

Sure, in the end, some plot threads are left frayed and fluttering in the breeze because the main Stay Night plot points are all set up here at Zero‘s conclusion (though that does produce the disadvantage of no longer making the story twists in Stay Night…well…twists). Despite that though, there is still a completeness to the ending.

Somehow the loose ends are written so they don’t feel loose. Sure we find out in the Heaven’s Feel route of Stay Night that Illya is Kiritsugu’s precious daughter that he was unable to save. Sure, in the Unlimited Blade Works route, Kirei gets his just-desserts for that little infraction of killing Rin’s father, Tokiomi Tohsaka. Sure, in the Fate route, the revelations that Saber was a gender-bent King Arthur and was Kiritsugu’s servant in the previous Grail War come to light.

And knowing those things, or lack thereof, can affect how you watch Zero. Knowing them can fill you with excitement when you see these addressed in the prequel (at least for me, since again, this is something I actually like about prequels). Not knowing them gives them their own fresh and engaging life in the flow of the narrative.

When watching Zero, we last see Illya waiting hopefully in the snowy Einzberns’ castle for her beloved father Kiritsugu to come back to her, only to learn that because he’d tried to destroy the Grail (because it’s corrupted), the Einzberns considered him a traitor and shut him out, preventing him from seeing her ever again.

We last see Rin at her father’s funeral. Kirei (who presided over that funeral no less) gives her the ceremonial dagger that her father himself had gifted to him for being his pupil in magic, only to immediately use it to literally stab him in the back. It’s only upon receiving the knife and learning that it was her father’s, that Rin finally allows herself to cry, Kirei secretly relishing her tears and the knowledge that he just gave her the weapon he’d used to murder her father as a present, and she’s none the wiser.

We see Sakura resigned to her fate as a future vessel for the Grail while carrying the weight of the Matou Family crestworms inside slowly killing her, despite her “uncle” Kariya Matou’s efforts to save her by winning the Grail for his wicked father. Efforts that were, for lack of better term, “ill-fated“.

We see Saber summoned at the conclusion of the first episode, with Kiritsugu believing that King Arthur was well a King, only to learn right off the bat that she was a woman in disguise the whole time (and that becomes a thing).

Regardless of knowing these things prior, the writing itself gives the scenes that are meant to allude to these later plot points a gravitas of their own worthy of praise. I am in a bit of a weird position where I started watching Fate/Stay Night (2006), which followed the first story route, the Fate route, with Saber (Arturia) as the heroine. Then I dropped it about a quarter of the way and bypassed straight to Zero. I was just too excited to wade through the lackluster production values of F/SN ’06. So I both knew and did not know things going into Zero. I had the opportunity to see certain things with a well-crafted setup in Zero, and still be engaged by both them and by things that were new to me in the sense that I wasn’t aware of their relevance not only to the Fate route, but to Unlimited Bladeworks, and Heaven’s Feel routes respectively.

Though I knew that it was going to come up that Kiritsugu was Saber Arturia’s Master in the Fourth War, I was still jarred by how frigid their relationship was pretty much from the word go. And it was interesting seeing someone as openly passionate about justice as Saber was getting stonewalled by someone like Kiritsugu, seeing as how his own passion for justice turned out to have been just as great. It’s just that he’s already let “reality” turn all that into a cold, calculating fire that’s compelling to watch burn so slowly, that struggle between that BBC Sherlockian sense of “Will caring about them [people] help save them?” and caring too much being the whole reason for what he does. That idea of wanting to bring the world salvation through an end to conflict, weighed movingly against how much he cares for his own family. It’s something that craftedly underpins his whole character. And anything like that will never be boring for me.

Rin meanwhile, even at a tender age, shows great potential as a mage, having started her education in magecraft in Zero. There’s an entire episode in there dedicated to how far she’s come and how far she still has to go. And it’s still exciting for those who already know that she’s going to be the capable Master of Archer in the Fifth Holy Grail War of Stay Night because of how well those parts showing such are executed in Zero, as equally exciting as it is to see it as someone going in blind.

Kariya Matou is motivated by the purest of things, love, to save Sakura Matou (formerly Tohsaka as Rin’s little sister) after she’s adopted into the Matou family simply to be used and abused in the worst ways. But for all that, it isn’t enough for him to succeed and failure is one of the most brutal things to watch.

Just about one of the most precious things I’ve seen in anything, never mind anime, is the scene of the walnut-finding game Kiritsugu and his daughter Illya would often play, because we see them play it one last time before Kiritsugu leaves for the Grail War at the beginning of the show. Even without being aware that this is the last time that they will ever see each other again, the hug goodbye that Kiritsugu gives Illya is still bittersweet because of how Kiritsugu’s character has been set up as this sober and reserved man carrying the heavy burden of his wife’s inevitable death, the cost for his wish to save the world, beautifully and poignantly juxtaposed against him acting playful, happy even, with their only child. (That, and well, there’s me who’s outed herself as a sucker for daddy-daughter relationships in fiction.)

Being a tragedy then, not only are all of the characters’ fates inevitable, and consequences of their own flaws, but they all end up spiraling apart into ultimate despair, with just the tiniest ray of hope at the end (which is the tease for Stay Night‘s continuation of the story, all three story routes accounted for). So what we’re left with is characters who either died broken, or survived broken, and for those who survived broken, we see that despite that, they find some reason to go on living (even if not for very much longer, and or even if not for the best of reasons). Just the same, it’s inspiring. Very Bluthian, actually. Despite all the trauma, it’s given worth of its own in that very last scene with Kiritsugu and his adopted son, Shirou, the protagonist of Stay Night, promising that things can be turned around for the better. That always gets me. From the very first time I watched it, I knew I had watched something incredible. An unduplicatable experience in the vein of finishing Harry Potter or Avatar: the Last Airbender.

It’s also something of a reset button where the anime adaptations of the Fate franchise are concerned. Somewhat ironically, the anime was produced so that the later adaptation of the Unlimited Blade Works and Heaven’s Feel story routes from the visual novel would work as sequels. Sequels to the prequel, as it were.

Then there’s the bottom line. It’s just a damn good show. Beautiful animation, beautiful music, beautiful character writing. Of all of the adaptations, it’s the one that works best as a standalone as probably Fate fans are ever going to get, given the nature of the source material. And with it being so good, it also has considerable rewatch value, which means that those “twists” that get “spoiled” are worth watching in the same regard that anything that has a known twist going in it is still worth watching.

And that…is why Fate/Zero actually works as a prequel.

Keeping this link up!

Why Fate/Zero Works As A Prequel That's right! It's been far too long, and I need to do another discussion of, what remains to this day, my #1…