#my storytelling and my goals have changed so much... but i could never abandon them </3

[tvheadfalls]

gather around everyone some crumbs from my eternal problem child

[a-student-out-of-time]

If you want a more analytical take on ‘Queen of Despair’ from me, personally I feel like the reason LINUJ went ‘BTW these two are terrible people’ in the narration is because Iroha’s and Syobai’s actions fall into ‘Pay Evil unto Evil.’ territory. Like oh no they are scamming people that’s bad. But…they’re scamming Despairs who are basically demons incarnate so they basically deserved to get all their money stolen. I feel like he was trying to avoid people developing that mindset. (1/2)

//That’s a different take and one I can see working

//The thing is, while it’s a problem both have as writers, I think LINUJ is actually worse than Kodaka in that respect. While Kodaka doesn’t really present a nuanced view, he at least lets the events of the stories and actions of the characters largely stand on their own. He presents the conflict in extremely good vs. evil terms, to be sure, but that’s more of a lack of nuance

//LINUJ has the problem of being able to present a more nuanced view, then backpedaling and specifying who was wrong, that they’re bad people and that we shouldn’t agree with them.

Some examples:

Kizuna finds out that Yuki and Akane were the masterminds and tries to kill them despite both of them being amnesic of their identities...oh, but she’s a gold-digger and a bully, so we can’t say she was doing the right thing

Syobai was abandoned by his parents in another country, nearly sold into slavery and had to get by through selling whatever he could to survive. Despite becoming a cold-blooded survivor, he still has a sense of honor and takes a stand in favor of helping the others over saving himself...oh, but he’s still human garbage, so we can’t like him.

Kokoro is a genius with Alexithymia who wants to study human emotions, and while she has some darker qualities to her goal, she still has a caring and compassionate side and it was that lack of emotional understanding that sadly got her killed...oh but she’s also an abusive mother and nothing anyone did could’ve gotten her to change.

The Voids are a group of scared, lost, desperate children who are seeking out the power of Utsuro because it’s the only thing that’ll allow them to survive once their Divine Luck flips, and they’ll either return to their old lives or die...oh, but they’re still the masterminds of the game and thus deserve every bad thing that happens to them. They’re fated to die regardless of what anyone does.

//And that’s not even touching on the fact that he completely rewrote his plans for Kanade because of V3′s third chapter, and then talked about how her entire character now revolves around her her creepy obsession with her sister, and how nothing anybody did would’ve changed how she turns out

//I know LINUJ has a very different view on human nature from me, and I’m not gonna say he’s wrong. I’ll stick to my views on storytelling and just say that I don’t much care for stories or authors that feel the need to spell out who you should and shouldn’t be rooting for

//It almost feels disrespectful to fans of those characters if you tell them that they’re wrong for liking them and sympathizing with them, and it exposes a sort of narrative insecurity where you feel like people won’t grasp that what they did was wrong. Not to mention the idea that none of them would ever change, which...I mean, I don’t want to get into it, but that’s not a take on humanity I agree with either.

//Kodaka, for all his flaws as a writer, at least is willing to let people like villainous or morally ambiguous characters, and doesn’t go out of his way to tell you who’s right or wrong, or that they never would’ve changed no matter the circumstance.

//But most of all, it’s a disappointing case of show, don’t tell. If you want me to believe that these characters were bad people incapable of true growth or redemption as people, it’s up to you as the creator to make that abundantly clear in the story itself and not just their character sheet or a Q/A

//Some details can be left as author’s notes, but when it’s core to them as characters or the stories, you need to bring your A-game and make that obvious within the narrative

[embermc]

Seriously though, everyone please go watch Quackity’s pre-Doomsday scenes, they’re so amazing. (analysis under cut, /rp).

His stream genuinely began with c!Quackity in the lowest point we had ever seen him in. He had completely abandoned hope, completely given up on the idea that his enemies and the tyrants that he had always wanted to defeat could ever be defeated. He was solemn, tragically calm, to the point of acting genuinely depressed. The fighting spirit we had seen from him just the day prior was completely gone. And it made sense. Quackity had probably been the most adamant, the most determined to take down L’manberg’s enemies during Season 2. And that’s always been a big part of his character. Quackity hates tyrants, and anyone who tries to be tyrannical or hoard too much power. Throughout his entire arc, this fiery passion he had to take down anyone he saw as a tyrant, whether it be Dream, Schlatt, or even Techno, was a constant.

So Quackity tried various plans. The Butcher Army, Techno’s execution, Dream’s execution...but none of them worked. Each and every single one of them failed. His enemies, and the tyrants he wanted to slay, always got away, leaving him with only tragedy and defeat. And every time he failed, his anger, his aggression, his desire to achieve his goals, only furiously grew. His ideals became more and more corrupted, and his methods more and more shady. He began using tactics that he had previously been against (executions, lying to your people), because he so desperately wanted to accomplish his goals. It came to the point where Quackity’s next plan came into play: the potential execution of Ranboo. But when Quackity suggested this idea, it too was shut down (probably for a good reason), and Quackity was reprimanded. Another one of his ideas to take down the enemies he so vigorously hated had failed in front of him, and now the country that he had tried so hard to build up seemed like it was heading for destruction.

And on January 6th, when his stream begins, Quackity finally just breaks. He gives up. He gives up on L’manberg, on all of his friends, on his goals and plans to take down tyrants like Dream. Sadly and solemnly, he leaves L’manberg and runs away, planning to never come back. He even utters the infamous words, “It was never meant to be.” All of his plans had failed, his plans throughout the entire server had ALWAYS failed, and now it was going to lead to the destruction of L’manberg. L’manberg would be gone. By this point in time, Quackity’s goals and desires had become less about taking down tyrants and enemies in order to end their reign and because of justice, like they once were. No, he was taking down these people in order to consolidate power for L’manberg. He cared about building L’manberg’s global power, and making sure there were no threats to it. He wanted organization, and power, as he said himself. He even told Techno he didn’t care about the withers, or the anarchy. He wasn’t taking Techno and Dream down because of justice anymore, but rather to consolidate L’manberg’s power and control.

Now, without L’manberg, Quackity had lost hope and faith in all of his goals, because he had directly linked them to consolidating power for the government at this point. The fighting spirit he had was gone, and he saw no point in trying to fight the tyrants he hated anymore. He just wanted to run away, run away and never do anything again. So he takes his skeleton horse and runs, sets up a shack a few hundred blocks away from everything. He even contemplates killing the horse, but decides not to. Then, Quackity decides to read Ranboo’s memory book, out of curiosity, mostly. He had gotten possession of the book earlier, and kept it in his inventory. Ranboo, who Quackity had left L’manberg entirely hating. He had wanted to execute him, and despised him strongly for being a traitor. Quackity began to read Ranboo’s thoughts, Ranboo’s opinions.

He read through various pages, suddenly finding himself more and more immersed in the book. As you all probably remember from his streams, Ranboo wrote about how everyone seemed too occupied with fighting between factions and nations, when everyone should be allied against Dream. Dream is the real enemy, he has too much power, and he’s a tyrant.

But soon,Quackity pauses on one line in particular, a line about c!Dream, and goes silent. He highlights the line in the book, staring at it.

“Why does one man need so much power?”

Quackity reads the line to himself again and again, staring blankly at the page. Viewers can see it seems like he’s starting to have some thoughts, as he lets it sink it. And suddenly, he smiles, and laughs, repeating the line one more time as he looks at his horse and puts away the book. Why does one man need so much power?

And that’s when Quackity decides to come back to L’manberg and fight. And it’s such an integral moment to his overall character arc. Quackity here, was in his lowest position ever, and he opens up the book, the thoughts, of somebody who he had been so against, despised so much, and they changed his entire perspective. Quackity comes back to L’manberg and mentions to Tubbo how he had read a line by Ranboo, and it convinced him to come back and fight. However, Quackity also mentions that he knows L’manberg is doomed, but that it doesn’t matter to him anymore, and he would still fight. This is so important.

Up until this point, I mentioned how we had seen Quackity’s character motives and ideals shift from “I want to fight tyrants because I’m morally opposed to them, and I want justice. Nobody should have that much power to use for evil.” to “I want to fight tyrants in order to consolidate power for L’manberg, and I don’t want them to get in my way.” This plays into why, when he realized L’manberg was doomed, Quackity gave up on his fight. Quackity had slowly been forgetting what his original motives and ideals were. Fight tyrants, fight those with too much power, and ensure a better world for everyone. He had moved away from the entire reason he wanted to fight people like Dream in the first place. He cared mostly about growing L’manberg’s strength and power, and nothing else. Even if he became tyrant-like in the process, he didn’t care. He was even willing to execute Ranboo, execute the one who decorated the festival in their own decorations, like somebody else Quackity had been so against.

But this line, the line in Ranboo’s memory book. “Why does one man need so much power?” This line gave Quackity the reminder he needed. He needed to remember what his original ideals were, in order for him to continue the fight. Because that’s what Quackity’s entire character had been so passionate about: fighting those with too much power. And he had lost the true meaning behind this motive somewhere along the way, even if he himself didn’t think so. He cared more about L’manberg’s power. But here, Quackity remembers what he was on the server for from the very beginning. And it’s enough to bring him back.

Back to L’manberg? No, and that’s what’s important. Quackity understands that L’manberg is doomed, but he no longer cares. Because he remembers now what’s important to him: taking down tyrants for justice, taking down Dream because Dream has too much power. That’s why Quackity had such an intense hatred of Dream, Dream was a tyrant with too much power that used his power to constantly meddle in the affairs of everyone else and ruin the server for them. So even though L’manberg was doomed to go, Quackity had gone back to what his original was. Tyrants, more specifically, Dream. He cared about taking down Dream now, with the fighting spirit against tyrants that he had once had. That’s what gave him the spirit and desire to join the fight to protect L’manberg: to stop Dream. And even when L’manberg had been destroyed, he reiterated that taking down Dream was what was truly important. It always had been. In other words, one man does not need so much power.

Quackity’s storytelling and acting is genuinely incredible, and it really shone through in these scenes.

[swaps55]

POV Case Study – Have Some Writing Meta

Point of View (POV) is an integral piece of the storytelling puzzle for Opus, my main body of fic, so I thought I’d do a meta post that walks through how I use it as a narrative tool. The intention is not to tell anyone how they should or shouldn’t use POV, but rather to demonstrate one way I used it very deliberately to create narrative tension, weave in characterization, and develop an overarching theme.    

Your POV character is an enormous tool in your writing toolbox, whether you are using a single POV or multiple. How you use it depends on a lot of things: what person you’re writing in (first, second, third), the type POV you’re going with (omniscient, meaning the POV narrator can see into everyone’s heads, or limited, meaning you only have access into the head of a specific POV character).

My preferred writing style is 3rd person “in-your-face” limited POV, that puts the reader so solidly in the POV character’s head it’s almost like 1st person in a 3rd person trench coat. That coupled with present tense gives me some extra intensity that I love taking advantage of in emotional or climactic scenes. Again, this isn’t to state a right or a wrong way to use tense or POV – there are lots of great ways to use these tools – but for the purpose of this exercise, this is my chosen loadout.

I made the conscious decision early in Sonata that I did not want to use Sam Shepard’s POV, ever. Every story in his series would be told through the eyes of the people around him. Why? Because one of the key character traits of Sam is that he makes himself whatever someone needs him to be. He sees himself as a tool, so to be a useful tool, he has to have the right shape for the job. This raises the question: who is Sam, when he is free to just be himself? I’m not sure even Sam knows the answer to that question, so to reinforce it through storytelling, I never wanted to reader to see what goes on in his head. Everything you learn about Sam comes through the perceptions of others, and to show the reader how differently he is perceived by others, I write with multiple POVs rather than just Kaidan’s.

Below the cut, I’m going to walk you through a specific example where POV was an essential part of crafting the story I wanted to tell. The chapter in question comes from Fugue, a story I’m writing that explores the aftermath of Alchera. You don’t need to have read Fugue to follow the logic, but if you care to read the chapter, it functions well on its own separate from the rest of the story.

Fugue – This Hole You Left.

This was a very complicated chapter that lived and died by POV choices, and it was extremely difficult to put together. The approach I took was a gamble that (thankfully) worked after much fretting, gnashing of teeth, and help from @pigeontheoneandonly.

This Hole You Left takes place after Sam dies over Alchera. I wanted to paint a ‘kaleidoscope’ of grief, and explore how Sam’s death impacted the people around him in very different ways. Therefore, I needed a plethora of POVs to work with, each one giving me something different. The goals were this:

Find differing POVs that would offer demonstrably different perceptions of Sam and/or illustrate different stages of grief and shock.        

Allow each of those POVs to mold to that character’s specific goals and motivations. i.e., I did not want the grief of other characters to be tied to the romantic relationship that had been lost – because that’s not the lens those characters would look through.

Each POV had to move the chronology along in a way that made sense and felt natural.

Kaidan’s POV was off limits. In the absence of Sam’s physical presence, I wanted to treat Kaidan like Sam – the character people could see, but not explore the headspace of. Everything the reader learns about Kaidan in the immediate aftermath of Alchera comes from other people.

That last piece was important. Arguably, Kaidan’s POV was the most valuable one of all, but I was going to have lots of time to explore it in meaningful ways elsewhere. I thought it might be more powerful to express his grief through the eyes of others, and use him as a central theme to weave in and out of the chapter. More about that later.

This constituted one hell of a puzzle to put together, especially when it came to the chronology. For instance, an early mistake I made was putting the most powerful POV (Anderson) too early in the sequence, which diminished what came after it. Moving that POV around meant re-framing other POVs to keep the chronology moving forward (for example, Garrus’ POV initially came after Anderson’s, by moving it before his, I had to change the context so that Anderson’s POV wasn’t a step backwards in time).

Each POV scene was also intended to essentially be its own self-contained short, creating a microcosm of grief, that when put together, would create a much larger and significant whole.

I could write forever about all the trial and error that went into finding the right formula, but it’s probably more valuable to look at where I wound up, and why:

1st POV: Lora Alenko (Kaidan’s mother)

Why: She gave me a window to set the clock in motion and make the loss of the Normandy feel real, because she had the advantage of having no idea anything was wrong. Plus, her perspective felt like a unique one I hadn’t seen in fic when it came to Alchera. I’d set her character up in Sonata, so readers of that fic would be familiar with her and understand what that phone call meant to her in a more meaningful way.

How I used it: I put her in the middle of a mundane, normal, event – lunch with a friend – and then shattered that normalcy with a phone call telling her the ship her son was on had been destroyed. That shift from normal to a state of dread gave me the tension I wanted to use for the rest of the chapter.

Excerpt:

But before she can answer, her omnitool flashes. She frowns and looks down at her arm. It’s a message from Marc. SOS. Call now.

A chill runs down her spine. SOS isn’t something Marc throws around lightly. She’d gotten an SOS from him when he’d found Apollo, the warmblood she’d ridden for years, with a leg stuck through the paddock fence, and the day they’d learned about Vyrnnus.

Kaidan.

“Melia,” she murmurs. “Excuse me, I have to take this.”

2nd POV: Admiral Hackett  

Why: Hackett gave me the chance to explore Shepard through the eyes of the Alliance. To them, and to Hackett, he’s a weapon rather than a person. He also gave me a chance to weave in a sense of anger, one of the stages of grief.

How I used it: This POV came about late in the revision process, but I’m thrilled it did, because I was missing that cold, calculated look at Shepard’s importance. Shepard dying fucks up Hackett’s plans and political machinations, and his immediate response is not to mourn someone who died, but to move on to plan B. This also gave me a shot to work in Shepard’s mother. By seeing her in Hackett’s POV, I could reinforce the ongoing theme that Captain Shepard sees her son as a legacy, rather than a person.

Excerpt:

There isn’t a list of people who can replace Shepard. Time to make one. Hackett exhales, gaze falling to the datapad on his desk, Shepard, Sam still displayed at the top of the casualty list.

He picks it up and hurls it at the wall. It cracks, screen flickering to black as it clatters to the floor.

What a goddamned waste.

3rd POV: Joker

Why: Joker was an easy one. I’d set up some rather terrible foreshadowing in Sonata with a scene in which he makes the comment “I’d go down with that ship,” and Sam replies, grinning, “Not while I’m around.” I wanted to spike the ball over the net in Fugue, so parking in Joker’s POV in the immediate aftermath was a no-brainer.

How I used it: Through Joker I could explore guilt and shock, so I went back to that memory from Sonata and used repetition to make Joker feel stuck in that moment. It was also my first chance to weave Kaidan in to reinforce the notion of guilt and lay some neat groundwork for narrative tension that would come to a head later.

Excerpt:

I’d go down with that ship.

Not while I’m around.

He should have abandoned ship. The escape pod was right there. He could have given up the Normandy at any time. All he had to do was step over the bodies of Pressly. Chase. All he had to do was leave them all behind.

Instead he’d stayed, and Shepard had made good on his word.

I’d go down with that ship.

Not while I’m around.

4th POV: Dr. Chakwas

Why: Through her, I could look at the adrenaline and denial that comes with managing trauma. To her, Shepard was a patient. Because she is overwhelmed with patients in the form of the Normandy’s wounded, she cannot stop to think about the one she cannot help: she has a job to do, and she has to do it. There will be time to grieve later.

How I used it: Again, I used Kaidan to emphasize her role as a caretaker. Kaidan, who is in command of the survivors, has a moment of weakness that she cannot afford to have, and he can only afford to have in front of her, because she overrides his authority in a medical emergency. Because we are in her POV, we see her outwardly refuse to crack, when internally she’s hanging by a thread. It made for a nice contrast.  

Excerpt:

“There was no transponder signal,” she tells him, saying out loud everything she’s been repeating to herself. “We were in hostile territory, with over twenty injured crew. He was gone, Kaidan.”

His fingers curl, eyes still trained on the window.

She puts a hand to her forehead. Between Virmire, triage on the Citadel and this it’s too much. Before today she’s never felt old. Tears sting the corner of her eyes and she swears under her breath. Not here. Not today. Tears are something for tomorrow. Right now, she has a job to do.

5th POV: Garrus

Why: Garrus was a member of the crew who wasn’t on the ship, which is a completely unique perspective. But the question that took me forever to answer, was, how does he react to Sam’s death? What was Shepard to Garrus? I hadn’t written about them during ME1 yet, he was not part of Sonata, and ME1 Garrus is always a little tricky for me. I knew there was something important to gain from his POV, but I couldn’t figure out what it was to the point of tearing my hair out. Eventually, I settled on Garrus seeing Shepard as a mentor he couldn’t live up to, and made his POV about failure and regret.  

How I used it: Shepard was everything Garrus aspired to be, but could never quite achieve. He left the Normandy because Shepard made him feel like he could make a difference, only he didn’t. And then, his friends needed him, and he wasn’t there, and now Shepard is dead. I wove a lot of doubt, regret and self-deprecation into his POV to drive that home.

Excerpt:

Dammit, why hadn’t he stayed on that ship?

He grabs another report from the top of the pile on his desk, which is getting tall enough to sway in the breeze.

This is why. Because Saren had obliterated the Citadel, and Shepard, damn him, had made him believe he could make a difference. He thought he could make it here. Crazy thing, having to fill out a form every time you find a corpse. He’s got three more to add to the list after today.

6th POV: Anderson

Why: Anderson was both a father figure and commanding officer to Sam. Because he’s known him for most of his life, he has a perspective no other POV character has. To him, Sam was more like a son he’d been tasked to protect, and in the end failed to protect him. He and Kaidan are the only people who know Shepard well enough to mourn Sam, and not just Commander Shepard. Anderson would really let me start to explore grief.

How I used it: This was my heavy hitter. Through Anderson’s POV, I could trace Sam the person as he grew into Commander Shepard, and explore the echoes of the kid that still lived in the adult. I was also able to use Kaidan in a really fascinating way. In Opus, Kaidan and Sam served together for four years before the Normandy. Therefore, Anderson is pretty familiar with him, but doesn’t know him the way he does Sam. He keeps looking at Kaidan expecting Sam. In a sense, trying to plug a puzzle piece into the wrong hole. It was a neat way to show Anderson’s grief.

Additionally, this was a great opportunity to demonstrate Kaidan’s sense of loss without being in his head. Anderson does not know there was a relationship between Sam and Kaidan, but the reader does. Thus, I could have my cake and eat it, too: The POV character wasn’t examining the relationship that had been lost between Sam and Kaidan because he didn’t know it existed, but the reader got to.  

Excerpt:

He exhales through his nostrils. “The Normandy was attacked by an unknown vessel. Whoever they were, Joker says they came out of nowhere. Shepard got him into the escape pod, but the ship lost gravity. He…well.”

Alenko stares straight ahead, silent. Anderson looks for a tell, but he only knows Shepard’s.

Alenko isn’t Shepard.

7th POV: Tali

Why: Tali presented a similar problem to me that Garrus did. What was Shepard specifically to her, and what did his loss mean to her? As my closing POV, not only did she need to hit a home run, but she also needed to close out the chapter in a way that tied all the other POVs together and examined Shepard’s death through a much wider lens, without feeling like I was pulling the camera back from her POV to get there. That’s a lot to ask. Lucky for me, Tali never lets me down.

The answer I came to also called back to Sonata, in which exploring what home meant to each of the characters was an important theme. So I went back to this idea for Tali, as she and Sam had a very important thing in common that set them apart from everyone else: they were both born in space, and did not have the traditional fixed point of home that everyone around them had. Home was different to them than it was to everyone else.

How I used it: Tali was the only one left who understood how truly unique and special the home she’d found on the Normandy was. Therefore, when the crew starts to fragment and fall apart around her, she is forced to mourn the loss not only of Shepard, who gave her that home, but the home itself. I was able to use that grief to circle back to how much Shepard changed the people around him, and how deeply his loss will be felt in ways people haven’t even realized yet.

That conclusion was the magic final puzzle piece that made the whole thing work, and it was literally the last idea to take shape.

Excerpt:

Aliens don’t carry their ship names with them the way quarians do. Perhaps when you’re born with dirt under your feet you don’t need to. For them, home isn’t a vessel among the stars – it’s a fixed place in the universe, a way back no matter how far from it you venture.

But Shepard had been different. Like the quarians, he had no fixed point. Home was what – or who – he carried with him. He’d understood the power of a ship name, even if he hadn’t used one out loud. People who served with Shepard felt like they belonged, in ways they couldn’t anywhere else, because he said to hell with that fixed point in the galaxy and brought home to anyone who needed it. For Shepard, there wasn’t a way back. Just a way forward.

Shepard changed people.

They’ve lost so much more than a ship.

The primary objective of Opus is to examine the relationship between Sam and Kaidan, but to really understand the magnitude of Sam’s death, it was critical to explore it outside the confines of that relationship. Part of the struggle Sam and Kaidan have is that Sam doesn’t truly belong to himself or to Kaidan – he belongs to everyone else. That means his death doesn’t belong to either him or Kaidan. It’s shared with all the people he touched and shaped.

That’s what made this carousel of POVs a challenge I really wanted to make work. It required an absurd amount of juggling, but the diversity and uniqueness of each made Shepard’s loss feel real and devastating. But not only did each of those POVs tell us something about Sam, they provided some meaningful character development for the POV character. How they react to Sam’s death and what it means to them tells us a lot about that character, which in turn lends the entire story more depth.  

If you read this far, I’m pretty sure you deserve a cookie. 

I don’t know if any of that is helpful or meaningful other than to show an example of how POVs can be a really awesome tool to tell a story. There can be a lot of depths and layers to why you use a particular character to tell a story through, and those choices can greatly impact the story you end up telling.

[counterspelling]

Prompt: Rey, Finn, Rose, Poe, Chewie and the Falcon from the sequel trilogy get sent to the Legends timeline because they deserve better.

I think for me I'd actually rather keep the timelines separate? They absolutely did deserve SO MUCH BETTER, and time travel fix-it shenanigans can be so fun, but I love the EU as a completely separate thing and idk how you could incorporate them. I would rather just throw the sequels in the trash where they belong and keep the characters and just... rewrite everything else?? The only satisfying arc for that trilogy for me would be for Rey to be Luke's daughter since that is IMPLICITLY what TFA was showing us with her force visions of an island she'd never seen that Luke marooned himself on (after somehow failing young Rey and thinking she was dead, since that is the ONLY REASON Luke would ever abandon everyone like that, and even still I don't think he would cut himself off for years like that. We already saw that story!!! We saw Yoda and Obi-wan do it!!! Why did they just repeat the OT!!!) and with Rey calling Luke's lightsaber to her over Kyle Ron, they WANTED US TO THINK she was his daughter. And she should have been! The main SW movies are about the Skywalker family, and throwing away decades of that history to pull the rug out from the viewers and have her be a Palpatine in the name of shock value bc Rian Johnson is a racist piece of shit and JJ Abrams is so enamored of his own writing and thinks writing himself into mystery corners without presenting actual solutions is good storytelling.... that's dumb!

Disney originally letting 3 separate straight white dudes do the trilogy with no oversight or communication between them is dumb! George could pull out plot twists and shock the audience bc he was one man overseeing EVERYTHING and he never undercut the message of his own story. He was vocal about his movies being for kids, the point wasn't just to shock people, Vader being Luke's dad makes everything about the OT more complex and deepens every relationship, the same way Leia being Luke's sister does. It was about tying the characters together and underpinning their emotional journeys together, not pulling something COMPLETELY out of left field just so that the thing that everybody saw coming didn't happen (they resurrected Palpatine in the CRAWL and then never addressed it!!! I just!!! How is that something that actually got written and filmed and produced and nobody had a problem with it!!!). Disney doesn't care about anything but money, and they just need the brand for that, not a good story. I would rather bring Winter and Mara into Disney canon bc Leia deserves her sister and Luke deserves his wife but also I do not want to subject myself to suffering through whatever disney would do to them lol. Also, on top of everything else he's done, Abrams is still on my shitlist for putting out the casting call for Keri Russell's character to be named "Mara."

They set up Rey and Finn to be co-leads with parallel stories, they clearly set them up as love interests, they were two people who immediately recognized each other as someone to care for and trust, exactly the way Han and Luke and Leia all did when they first met, two people with incredibly fucked up childhoods who were never sure who they could trust or who would support them. But they knew from the first moment that THIS person would be someone they could count on, and had such an immediate bond together. And then they threw those characters away completely to woobify Kyle Ron and turn Finn from a lead into a side character without a plot or character arc for the next two movies. Rey and Finn in TFA are unrecognizable in the next two movies, everything about their personalities, motivations, and goals changes and has zero resemblance or flow from the first movie. And Kyle Ron himself is a joke, truly one of the worst SW characters I've ever encountered. I hate... so many sw characters lol, but he's just such a badly written and uncompelling character, and everything about him is so rooted in the racism that John Boyega the actor and Finn the character had to go through, it's just disgusting.

Anyway, if it was purely up to me, I would remove the sequels from canon and then do a 7 movie adaptation of the NJO and LOTF series. I want Jag and Jaina to be the main couple without decades of dumb love squares just bc Jaina is the only girl, I want Tahiri to be treated with the respect she deserves, and I want Tenel Ka to have more of a chance to bond with the other girls and in fact to make the relationships between all the women a priority. We'd get the first four movies covering the vong war, we'd see the twins and Anakin centerstage and having to fight the worst war the galaxy has ever seen as teenagers and how strong they were together, before they were even fully jedi knights. We'd get the bond between them and see them emerge as leaders in the war, and then we'd lose Anakin at the end of 3, see the toll that it took upon the whole family but especially Jaina and Jacen (Jaina! Who was always the protector of her siblings, from the time they were born! The oldest sibling, who feels responsible for their safety!! Losing her youngest brother!! And then coming into her title as Sword of the Jedi when she's knighted, and forever feeling the guilt that she couldn't stand in front of her brother and protect him!! When that was the literal prophecy spoken about her, that she would never rest bc she would forever stand in front of other to protect them!! Also?? To hear that about yourself at 17??? WOW!). And then seeing the last 3 cover LOTF and Jacen's descent, Jaina's realization of what he's become, how it's her duty to kill her twin, her heart, because she's the only one who can. That's the story I want.

[sssn-neptune-vasilias]

RWBY vs Comic

Alright, I said I was gonna do this back when the comic first started getting published but I got so frustrated reading it that I couldn’t actually keep up with it enough go through with it. I think I stopped around issue 4 because that was when I just got angry and threw my comic back into the plastic. I figure now’s as good a time as any since I’m actually rereading it now. My whole issue with the RWBY DC comics is that they’re super canon divergent but somehow still canon material. It’s so frustrating that this is the case because we’re supposed to take into account things that happen in the comic as gospel- things like Adam revealing he’d always been genocidal, Bumbleby’s bottlecap, Weiss’ zoo animal arc, etc, but a lot of these different story arcs don’t make sense in our current canon. So I’m gonna talk about them because why not.

 Issue #1:

The first issue actually isn’t that bad- mostly because it’s just an intro to the series- but there are still some huge inconsistencies between the comic and official canon.

These two panels are a fucking mess.

1) Ruby was passed out when she was delivered to Patch by Qrow. She’d just used her Silver Eyed Warrior powers for the first time, hurt Cinder, frozen the dragon, and passed out. We were literally forced to listen as Qrow carried Ruby out of the rubble and back home, because she was unconscious. But the comic has her just arriving back home all on her own. “I came back to my dad’s house.” No you didn’t, you literally woke up in your bed after what must’ve been days of being unconscious.

2) We know Blake didn’t get to Menagerie on a little wooden boat. We all watched the episode. It was a decent sized ship with multiple crew members, dozens of passengers, and literal armaments designed to destroy Grimm. Sun can’t hide in a robe for 3+ days on this boat. This boat wouldn’t have survived a Grimm attack in the first place. Idk why they decided to draw this boat instead of just drawing the Pride the way it was designed in the first place, but whatever I guess.

RNJR didn’t tell Taiyang they were leaving. Ruby and her team just left. There was a whole scene dedicated to showing the shock and horror on Tai’s face as he saw Ruby’s letter and ran out of the house hoping to catch up to his daughter before she left. Also not as important but still relevant, RNJR left during winter. There was snow on the ground. I don’t see no snow in this panel- that tree looks real green. That last issue is mostly a nitpick- who cares what season they left in tbh. But the fact that they just wrote this panel into the comic despite the fact canon shows Taiyang had no idea of Ruby’s departure- and the fact that Ruby’s departure is actually really important to a bunch of later scenes in this show is really fucking weird.

Issue #2:

I know we know next to nothing about Raven Branwen, but holy fucking shit do I wanna believe this is ridiculously out of character for her. You’re telling me that Raven actually did come visit Yang and Tai and Ruby, but the one time she ever made her presence known to any of them was to berate and terrify Ruby the one time she’d learned anything about Summer?! Like BRO. This is so fucked up! This is too fucked up! This is straight early 90′s level villainy right here. What was even the point behind this?! This scene tells us that she felt so negatively about Summer Rose that she was willing to break her silent cover just to disillusion Ruby for no other reason than to tell her she was weak. Which makes no fucking sense because when we finally meet her during season 5 Raven has nothing bad to say about Summer at all! What did Qrow say to her after they spoke? “Hey sis why the fuck are you flying around your ex’s home scaring his daughter who just lost her mother? You realize you’re talking shit about the woman who raised your child too right?” Like, this is so wildly terrible, that if we’re meant to take this into account, I don’t see how anyone who reads these comics could say anything positive about Raven ever again. This is strike one, two and three for her entire characterization.

Issue #4:

I’ve said it already but fuck this boat.

Not so much an issue with the comic as it is with RoosterTeeth’s sometimes sloppy storytelling, but we really need an exact age on Adam. Is this man a pedophile? We know Blake is about twelve here, meanwhile- besides looking maybe a little scrawnier- Adam looks the same as he did during the show. How old is this kid right here? Fifteen? Seventeen? Was he 20 during the events of volume 1? Was he 25? I really dislike this specific problem RT has created because at no point during canon were we led to believe that Adam was significantly older than Blake or our other characters, but here in the comic we’re getting huge pedo vibes. Idk if this was RoosterTeeth retroactively trying to throw Adam’s character even further into question but... Idk man, RT y’all need to hurry up and carbon date this kid because I’m really not liking this.

I’m not gonna harp on the whole “Adam as a revolutionary vs Adam as a genocidal maniac” issue again. Most of y’all already know where I stand on this and have either made up your minds that either, yes, Adam’s sudden change towards being genocidal after being forcibly conscripted by Cinder doesn’t make much sense, or, no, Adam’s behavior is entirely in line with what little we’d seen of him up to that point in the story. I’m not trying to change anyone’s opinions on this issue, I’ve got about a dozen other posts for that. My issue with these panels specifically is that this is the moment Blake discovers Adam is genocidal. This is the moment Blake realizes that Adam never wanted peace, never wanted coexistence, never wanted what the White Fang actually wanted in the first place. He wanted Faunus supremacy- a goal entirely removed from the White Fang’s goal of equality between Faunus and humans. This is the moment Blake realizes that his ideology is so far from what it is she herself wants. If this is correct, why does Blake never mention this AT ALL when she’s talking about Adam. When the conversation comes up during season 3, she specifically states that Adam’s change was gradual. Not that he’d been hiding who he really was from her but that he’d become a completely different person from the man she’d originally known. I recognize that a lot of people say that this could be explained away as evidence of Blake’s abuse- oftentimes abusers don’t even realize just how monstrous their abusers are, even after they’ve escaped from said abuse. But this is just such a monumentally larger issue than manipulation and abuse. Adam is outright saying that he wants genocide! He’s not trying to hide it, he’s not trying to lie, he’s not trying to manipulate her! He’s telling her explicitly that he wishes he could kill as many humans as possible. But during the Black Trailer she’s still asking Adam about the crew members as if they hadn’t had this conversation hours ago! During season 2 she’s drawing him in her notebook as if she misses him! During season 3 she’s explaining that he’s simply misguided! This is apologia of the umpteenth level that is absolutely inexcusable. If I’m honestly supposed to be made to believe that Blake knew Adam was genocidal from before the events of the Black trailer and season 1 but still had feelings for him... I’m sorry but I’ve lost any and all respect for her entire character. You can’t have feelings for someone who’s genocidal- who you know is genocidal- and expect sympathy. No amount of abuse would forgive someone for having feelings for Hitler.

I recognize the comics aren’t supposed to be a shot for shot recreation of the show, but what the fuck is this panel? The frame of Adam dismembering Yang was such a good, amazing, impactful frame. The black and red framing, the yellow of Yang’s hair and weapons, the red of Adam’s sword. Why would you not even try to recreate that?

Leaving nitpicks for the end, really wish they hadn’t used “sunflower” here. That’s Yang/Ren. But again, the comic is made by people who aren’t in the fndm and don’t interact with the RWBY community at large in the first place, so of course they wouldn’t know.

Issue #5:

Why does Blake seem so ooc here. Like, the fact that she’s trying to make Weiss feel guilty for “cheating” in a “win by any means necessary” free for all match is really??? Weird??? When we know Blake isn’t above using underhanded tricks herself considering what she did to Reese during the tournament and her Semblance in general??? But whatever, that’s mostly a nitpick as well.

Issue #7:

My issue with this story is that it ends with Yang like, wistfully thinking of spending more time with Blake. But this is before she even put the prosthetic on. This is before she even got to talk with Weiss after meeting up with Raven. This is so early on in her healing process that I find it extremely difficult to believe that Yang is fondly remembering any time she spent with Blake. When Ruby talks to her during 3.12, she was angry that Blake had left her! Abandoned her! And then in the conversation she has with Weiss that happens after this event in the comic she’s still frustrated with Blake for leaving. So like... did she suddenly forgive Blake just a few weeks into her recovery and then relapse back into feeling like she’d abandoned her? Wtf is this?

Issue #9:

I know she’s obviously supposed to be drunk here, and we barely got to know her during the short scenes she had, but like... she never struck me as this kind of person. To literally forget how old her daughter is? Like...???? The same woman who was so perceptive she was able to recognize that Whitley was acting out because he’d felt lonely and abandoned by his sisters? Doesn’t know how old one of her children is? This is silly.

This isn’t the same woman we met during season 7. This isn’t the same quick witted woman who immediately directed Weiss to the cameras she’d hidden around the house when it was time to spring the trap on Jacques. This isn’t the same woman who was so honest when she admitted to her own faults just a few short months after this scene supposedly took place. You could argue that the events of this comic are what led Willow to become the person we meet later on, but like... That’s an absolutely ridiculous amount of offscreen growth you’re expecting me to just assume has happened. These aren’t the same people. This is ridiculous.

Issue #12:

This seems so ooc for Sun. Why is he literally begging her to run away and not face a problem when his entire relationship with Blake up to and past this point is him teaching Blake to love herself enough to face her problems head-on in the first place? This is so weird and gross imo because it just feels like they’re warping Sun’s character to make it look like Yang is the only good influence in her life when that’s simply not the case. Every conversation Sun has with Blake from season 1 to season 6 is him telling her that she deserves happiness, love, and to forgive herself. There are multiple songs about this aspect of their relationship! Sun has helped Blake grow just as much as Yang has. Why is Sun taking this approach to manipulate Blake into staying silent about something that’s bothering her? On top of that, Sun’s never been the brightest banana of the bunch anyway, why the FUCK is he smart enough here to recognize that if Blake tells the truth and makes those people feel bad, that they’d draw more Grimm? He’s never been this intuitive before. It really feels like they made him smarter than he normally is just to make him scummier than he’s ever been so that we could feel that Blake’s relationship with Sun is less than her relationship with Yang. Awful writing and characterization from the RWBY DC team here

Issue #13:

This is so wrong and despicable and manipulative and terrible. Again, this isn’t the same woman we met in the show. 

Willow never made excuses for herself or her actions like this. Not once during the entire time she was on screen did she do anything like this. She knew she wasn’t a great mother and she took full responsibility for her actions- and inaction- I don’t know WHY she’s trying to excuse herself here. This is more Cruella De Ville than it is Willow Schnee.

I’m not gonna explain how lumping this “prized menagerie” story with “Faunus slave labor” story together is godawful but just recognize that it’s Black History Month and this plot point they decided to write in is not MLK approved.

Anyway, that’s the whole RWBY DC run. All in all it wasn’t the worst adaptation of an established series, but goddamn. I’d rank this up there with Eragon or Percy Jackson or the end of the Soul Eater anime or something. This is such a slap in the face by people who obviously only ever skimmed through the show for the explicit purpose of writing this series that I’ve read fancomics and fanfiction that handle canon better than this. It’s really frustrating too because this comic run is like, beloved by certain people in the fndm who are only in this for the ships, and people who refuse to see anything wrong with this series ever. The healthy servings of Bumbleby and crumbs of Monochrome and White Rose are apparently enough to make people go “fuck all the inconsistencies, this comic is great.” Cannot express how much these people make me wanna slam my head into a wall. 

I did this just to highlight all the issues I have with the run, but I’m sure other people have other issues with this comic than I do. Have fun in the comments I guess.

[xsparklingravenx]

to the heavens

Title: to the heavens

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Characters: Venti, Diluc, Venti’s Friend, Amos

Rating: T

Word Count: 6,619

Summary:  Venti has lost more than most in the pursuit of freedom. One, unassuming evening, Diluc asks a question that prompts him to share those losses.

AO3

“Oh Mondstadt let me tell you,

Of violent tales of old,

Where a boy, no name or stature,

Took on a journey bold”  

In the corner of a darkened tavern, a boy dressed in green sang. His fingers danced nimbly across a tinkling lyre, drawing forth sounds that could only be matched by divinity itself. Every word brought forth a new listener, drunkards, guild members, even the bartender himself, who stood steadfast behind the counter with his arms crossed. The story spiralled in song, Mondstadt’s past told to its present.

This boy, a bard, no fighter,

Took Mondstadt in his hands,

Saying no despot will hold on

To these gorgeous, sacred lands  

The song itself was a new one, though the green bard had told the story in many forms before. In celebration, in joy, in a simple sharing of knowledge, but never had he sung it like this. The tune was haunting, like it had been possessed by a ghost. His attempts to liven it up had not worked entirely, it seemed.

Eyes closed, the bard carried on. How easy it was, to get caught up in song like this. He’d taken his time writing this one, had bought in his oldest companion to listen in on it. When he’d asked the dragon, Dvalin, how he thought it sounded, the dragon had replied simply, “It sounds like a ballad for a funeral march, Barbatos.”

It was neither a ballad nor a funerary song, the bard thought privately, and he also thought that Dvalin very much needed an updated education in the art of music. That being said, when he opened his audience looked very much morose, as if he’d struck them down with some kind of malady born from tune. Even the bartender, who the bard rarely ever saw look anything other than stone-faced, had his mouth downturned a fraction further.

None of them offered to purchase him a drink, though they did clap for him, and many showered him with coin at the end of his performance, some wiping away inexplicable tears. “Why, thank you! Thank you! Your generosity will be remembered—right when I go and get myself something from the bar with all your wonderful donations!”

Lyre still in hand, the bard marched up to the counter with all the confidence of someone twice his height. Pushing several coins onto the counter, he said, “One dandelion wine, if you please, Master Diluc.”

Diluc looked down at him, one eyebrow raised. His red hair was tied up as it always was. The bard thought it looked like a scorched sunset.

“If I start serving you regularly, people are going to think that I make a habit out of serving the underage," Diluc said.

“Oh, come now, I hardly show up that much!” The bard pushed the coins further across the table, as if that would somehow sweeten the pot. “I’m a paying customer. Angel Share’s most famous one at that. You know, I could write a whole poem about this place, bring people flocking in from all over Teyvat! I have friends in high places too, they’d spread the word even farther…”

“Business is already good enough.”

“And I’m not even underage, so your argument is void and forgotten.”

“Venti—” Diluc stopped, rubbing at his temples. Venti snickered, knowing victory was in reach. “I don’t understand it. Something as old, and as powerful as you, and yet you choose to appear as a child. Why not change? Then you’d encounter no trouble at all.”

It was a valid enough question. Venti leant back on his stall, placing his lyre on the free one next to him. How did he explain it? “It’s…a long story. One that I’m always happy to tell, but you’re free to listen, if you want.”

Dilic’s eyes flicked up to the clock that sat on the wall behind the counter. “Guess it’s a slow enough night. We’re still open for a while, so if you want to talk, then talk. Make it worth my while, though.”

“Only in exchange for a dandelion wine, of course.”

“At which point did I say I even wanted to hear your story?” Diluc asked, his expression utterly flat. “You get one wine, that’s it. I’m not dealing with your drunken antics. I’ve seen them, and I’m not impressed.”

Despite his reluctance, he got the glass and the bottle. Venti hummed as he watched him pour it. It was his favourite; if you could get comfort in a liquid form, then dandelion wine was it. Even old Morax enjoyed it, whenever Venti was willing enough to share it. He’d have to get them together sometime, so they could partake in some festive activities of their own.

Venti cupped his hands around the glass when Diluc handed it to him. He was eager to take the first sip, but he held back. Though he loved his wine, there was perhaps one thing he loved even more. Storytelling was in his blood. It was the reason he was still here after thousands of years of life and more to come.

“I didn’t always look like this, you know,” he said, eager to hook, eager to draw Diluc’s attention fully. And then, he winked.

Without his lyre, he sung once more.

“Master Diluc, let me tell you,

Of violent tales of old,

Where a boy, no name or stature,

Took on a journey bold”  

~x~

The sky was a veritable nightmare of storm and fury, and yet, beneath it, life went on as it always did.

Mondstadt was a gilded cage, a prison where its people were protected and safe, yet wanting only for freedom. That was what the wind spirit had learned on its travels through the city. That was the wind spirit had understood upon listening to the singing of the young bard who made his home in the desolate cathedral.

The wind spirit came to listen to him often, for there was no other who could compare to him, not even outside the city. His voice carried on the wind like Decarabian himself favoured him, and maybe he did, enjoying how his songbird sang for freedom while locked in its cage. The young bard worked his lyrics to the bone, conveying so much with so little, emotion and feeling packed not just into his words, but into his nifty work with the instrument he carried. The wind spirit did not know the name of it, but it did love how it looked, how the boy made it sing too.

He wore his hair in braids, and the wind spirit never saw him without his brown cloak, which billowed in the storms that trapped them all. This was a human, it thought. So big, so powerful, with the ability to turn words into inspiration, to make thought into action. This boy was far stronger than the wind spirit, who was a simple thread of a single element, who could be blown away with even the simplest of gusts.

But even as skilled and as powerful as the boy was, it was a difficult existence. Though his magic was in his music, it was not a lucrative position. Much of his audience were struggling themselves, and there was little money to go around. The wind spirit watched from the shadows as the boy suffered; he was an orphan, hiding within the cathedral’s walls from the turbulent weather, sometimes going days without food when he could not afford it. Not even Decarabian helped. As his songbird starved, he paid no attention.

But the wind spirit did. One evening, after dark, when his audience had dispersed, it went searching. The market stalls had been cleared away, but, in a stroke of good fortune, the tiny spirit found something red and round and almost unbruised, tucked away near a tavern. An apple, it had heard the people call this particular fruit. It was not much for a human as big as the bard, but it was better than nothing.

So, with all its might, the wind spirit began to push the apple. It used all its very limited power over the wind, and slowly, it rolled the apple out of its hiding place. The trip back to the cathedral was long, and arduous—though not many people noticed the strange apple and the tiny spirit, for they were hardly important in the grand scheme of their own lives.

After much effort, the wind spirit arrived at its goal; though it soon found itself blocked by an object it had not expected; a heavy set of closed doors barring the way into the cathedral. Irritated, it puffed up its cheeks and kicked its tiny feet at the door. Let me in, it cried silently. I have a gift!

During the day, the doors were always open! How could this happen? Its poor bard was on the other side, starving, and the wind spirit had the answer right there. There was nothing for it; the little spirit would have to get his attention, no matter what.

As a being of the wind, it was easy to manipulate its form into almost nothing at all. It slipped through the cracks between the doors with ease, but the apple remained stuck outside. Popping back into existence as its usual form, the spirit fluttered its pixie-like wings and floated towards where the bard was curled up, his face screwed up as he slept. He was not the only one who called this abandoned cathedral home; there were others sleeping too, boys and girls with no parents, who had nowhere else to go. They were stuck here too. There was nowhere to escape to, not when Mondstadt was closed off to the rest of the world.

The wind spirit stopped in front of the boy’s face. What was he dreaming of, to look like that? Was it a bad dream? Something cruel? Did Decarabian himself appear, taunting the songbird that his freedom would never be near? Likely not, but the wind spirit could not help but consider the possibilities as it shook its stubby arms free of its tiny, white cloak.

It prodded the boy in the face. Once. Twice. The boy stirred a moment before rolling over entirely. No, thought the wind spirit in frustration. Pay attention to me!

So he floated over to the other side, and began again. Prod. Prod. Prod. Nose. Lips. Cheeks.

Finally, the boy cracked open an eye. “Who—”

He cut himself off when he spotted the wind spirit. There was a moment of tense silence, and suddenly, the boy bolted back with a gasp. The wind spirit, equally as shocked, fell onto its back with a shrill little cry.

So alarmed as it was, it kicked its little legs, its wings trapped behind it. It was not until the boy scooped him up and said, “Shh,” that it calmed. “Sorry, little guy. I didn’t mean to scare you. You just…well. Scared me.”

The little spirit placed its stubby arms on its waist in an imitation of what it had seen the bard do when he was irritated. This appeared to charm the boy, who let out a tinkling little laugh. “Sorry, sorry. Were you the one poking at me?”

His voice sounded different when he spoke. Still sweet and nice, but not nearly as lyrical. The wind spirit hopped off his hands, and poked at the boy’s stomach. Then, it went flying off towards the door, hoping the boy would get the hint.

“What are you doing?” the boy whispered, keeping his voice low as to not wake the others.

The spirit chirped. It didn’t quite have the facilities for speech, so it could only communicate through gestures and sound. It pointed to the door, and the boy clicked his fingers in triumph. “Ah! You’re trapped in here, and you want to be let out, right?”

Not quite, but at least it would get him to open the door. The little spirit chirped again, and the boy came over, finally pushing the door open. Free, the spirit immediately descended down to perch itself on the apple, arms at its waist again this time as it puffed up its chest in pride.

The boy stared at the apple and the spirit both. After a moment, he knelt down, and the spirit hopped off the apple to push it towards the boy. He took it in his hand, asking, “Is this for me?”

The wind spirit nodded. There was a lot to tell him, but nothing it could say, so it chirped once more. How it wanted to share its appreciation for the music the bard gave so freely, how it wanted to step in where Decarabian wouldn’t, but the apple would have to do for now.

“Thank you,” the boy said, looking at the red shine of the apple, and oh, what kind of words could he come up with to describe it, the spirit wondered? “Really. You don’t know how hungry I am…this means a lot. Do you have a name, little guy?”

The wind spirit shook its head left and right. It had been born from the elements, it had no parents like the boy once would have, and so, it had nobody to name it.

“You look a little like an elf…” the boy said, but the spirit shook its head at that too. “Oh, well, I’m sure I can come up with something for you, if you wouldn’t mind.”

The spirit could hardly believe its luck! A name! Something humans had! All in exchange for an apple? Surely it was not a fair enough trade. It would have to bring even more to make up for it.

Floating upwards, the spirit tugged at the bard’s sleeve. What’s your name? It wanted to ask so badly, but all it could do was hope that its intent was understood.

The bard tilted his head. “What is it?”

Name! The spirit chirped again. It flew to the bard’s chest and poked him in the chest. You. Tell me!

“Oh! Me?”

The spirit nodded. Finally! It floated up to the bard’s face, listening intently. It didn’t want to miss the moment. It wanted to commit this to memory forever.

The boy chuckled at its antics, and his laugh was such a wonderful thing. Decarabian was a fool, for staying up high, for ignoring his citizens, because listening to this, the wind spirit didn’t know how he could ever justify keeping his people locked away. If only he came down, then maybe he would understand. But he wouldn’t, because, as the people always said, the Archon was a tyrant who only cared about keeping his rule.

But that didn’t matter in the moment. The boy opened his mouth. The spirit listened.

“My name is—”

~x~

  “So your story is tied to your song from earlier,” said Diluc, who had poured himself a drink of his own now. Hardly the most responsible act from the owner of Angel’s Share, but who was Venti to judge men on their responsibilities when he barely did anything from one day to the next? “The boy the wind spirit—you— met and the boy in the tale is the one and the same.”

“Well, yeah, but you didn’t have to jump ahead like that!” Venti huffed, taking a sip of his wine. The sweet, floral taste exploded over his tastebuds, the bitter hint behind it only strengthening the flavour. “Back then, Mondstadt was…boring. Stagnant. Everyone was trapped and lonely. They yearned for nothing but freedom, and music was a close way to get it—but the economy was suffering too, and the bard could barely make ends meet.”

“So, what was the name he granted you?”

“Oh, that. Yeah, he named me after some character in a book he was reading at the time. Barbatos, you might be familiar with such a moniker.”

“Interesting,” Diluc said, not sounding very interested at all. “Making Venti a…stage name?”

“Psh.” Venti waved a hand dismissively. It was not a stage name, but they would get to that eventually. The cosy, dark atmosphere of the bar was making him a little drowsy, but he couldn’t just stop here now he’d started. “From there, I always came front and centre to his performances, but I soon came to realise that something was missing. Though he always sang of freedom, though he inspired the people around him to also yearn for it, he didn’t ever sing of what came after. He never sang about what to do with that freedom after their independence had been gained.”

The memories were still clear, despite having taken place over two millennia ago. It was easy to recall how the storms raged over Mondstadt, how they grew and grew, how, one day, Venti had realised how they nearly swallowed up his bard friend’s voice. It was as if Decarabian had grown tired of his singing, as if he’d figured out the truth behind his words and wanted to drown out his songbird before it grew restless enough to try breaking the cage.

“One thing to say, another thing to actually do,” Diluc said, but the way he said it suggested that he knew that better than most. Venti knew a little of his story, but not all of it, mostly gathered in scraps from others. There was a rift between him and that knight, Kaeya, that seemed like it would be difficult to patch. “But, we’re having this conversation right now, and I already heard the ending to your song earlier. He didn’t just sit on his hands.”

That was another memory, one so stark and clear that it might as well have been caught on one of the traveller’s kameras. Venti nodded, and he sung, into his drink.

“I want to see those birds in flight,”

A declaration swift,

But with it came a reckoning

That would set their fates adrift

Diluc said, “Is that really what he said?”

“Word-for-word,” Venti said. Now he really did need another sip. Remembering that statement both warmed him and tore his heart apart. Had the bard never said it, maybe he would have lived his life long, not content, but alive regardless—but Venti knew that a life imprisoned was no life at all. He was desperate to see those birds. To see even one in flight, to see the world outside and know it was accessible, it was a wish worth dying for.

“He wanted to write a poem so great, and he was going to use the birds to do it,” Venti explained around the wine. “I think he could have done it, too. He just…didn’t get the chance, unfortunately.”

In a rare act of compassion, Diluc topped up his glass. Noticing the delight in Venti’s eyes, he warned him, “Just once,” and then set the bottle back down. “So, none of this has actually explained to me why you’re so intent on showing up like you are. Are you actually going to tell me, or is this an elaborate hoax all so you can listen to the sound of your own voice?”

“Hey! I was getting to the point, you’re the one jumping ahead!” Venti glared at him over the top of his glass. “Anyway, my voice is great to listen to. You should be so honoured that the great bard Venti is taking time out of his personal schedule to tell you this.”

“Taking time out of his personal schedule to badger me into serving him wine, I think you mean,” Diluc said.

“Yeesh.” Venti shook his head. “Alright, where was I…oh, yeah. Birds in flight. Okay. Buckle up, Master Diluc.”

And so, he sang once more.

With companions at his side now,

The bard took forth his plan

To topple Mondstadt’s tyrant

And free his fellow man  

~x~

The scrolls were scattered all across the cathedral’s floor. Images of sun, sea, and grassland glittered upon them, everything that laid beyond the storm able to be touched, visualised, dreamed of.

The wind spirit floated next to the bard as they both looked at the illustrations. Decarabian’s lover had bought them to show him after she had heard one of his songs. So touched by his tales of what might be awaiting them outside, she had stolen the scrolls from Decarabian’s personal affects, and brought them down to them.

The spirit knew that she was a beautiful woman, in the sense that he knew that the words to describe her would be the same ones traditionally used to describe beautiful women. Her hair was so blonde, it was near white, and it tumbled down her back in waves. Her smile was pleasant and pink, and her hands were slender and thin. They did not seem suited to the bow she carried with her, the bow that she did not need given her status, but she had learned to use anyway.

They were not the only ones looking upon the illustrations. Among the boys and girls who also lived in the cathedral, another new face had joined them; the knight, with hair as red as the sunset one of the images depicted. He carried a claymore wider than his body, and held knowledge of every wine in Mondstadt. Like the lover, he had also heard the bard’s songs of freedom, and he’d been enticed by them.

Somehow, their duo had grown to number four, all of them dreaming of something better. The wind spirit had not left Mondstadt in sometime, for it felt terrible to traverse the storm-clad sky without its friends, but it mattered little when everything it needed was right within the city’s walls. What was there to leave for, when home was right there?

The bard was strangely quiet as he looked upon the scrolls. The wind spirit sat on his knee, looking at them also. It watched in silence as he ran his fingers over the images of suns, of creatures unknown to them all, of gemstones and ore that could not be found in Mondstadt. So much awaited outside, and yet there was no way to reach it.

“There is little left in this city to see,” lamented the lover as she too looked over the scrolls. “Decarabian thinks he loves me, but he only loves his rule. I’ve told him so many times how I wish to see what is outside for myself, and yet…we remain here. Trapped.”

“If only battle were enough to see it done,” said the knight, sat on the pews with his sword at his side. “I would fight my way out of this prison if I could. I would take every man, woman, and child with me.”

The wind spirit chirped sadly, for it could do nothing but watch them. It had no power of its own, no ability to wield a weapon, no Vision to do magic with. It was simply a puff of air, an wayward shard of elemental power, to little to make an impact.

It floated upwards, looking upon a scroll depicting sky so blue, with birds flitting across it. The boy looked at it too, chewing at his lip. Was he so hungry that he had to eat that too?

“But what if…what if we could fight our way out of this prison?” asked the bard, drawing the attention of both the lover and the knight. He was like that; he could garner eyes like Decarabian garnered power. “I want to see the birds in flight. I want to write a poem so great. But…if we stay here, I’ll never do either.”

The wind spirit didn’t understand. What fighting could they do? The knight and the lover were strong, but the bard had little but his lyre, and the spirit had nothing at all. It wanted to ask, but the knight responded for him. “Preposterous!”

“Is it?” asked the lover, one hand at her chest. “Perhaps…perhaps if we go to him, if we show him with our own power what he has done wrong, Decarbia will open his eyes. Maybe he will see me for who I am…!”

“We would have to incite all of Mondstadt into joining us,” said the bard, and the knight looked positively dumbfounded. “It would be no easy rebellion…but maybe it would change something, right? Or, we’re all just going to live our lives caged like this, and that’s…well. It’s not living at all, is it?”

The spirit chirped. But what of the danger! Was freedom worth the possibility of fighting a god? Was that what the bard was trying to tell him?

“You’re mad,” said the knight, shaking his head fondly. “Yet…I can’t deny what you’re saying there. Our entire lives have been spent this way. People have lived and died for hundreds of years, never once seeing outside this storm. It steals our words and our opportunities…and yet nobody has ever challenged it. Not once.”

Was it out of terror? Or acceptance? Did the people take their lives for what they were because they knew there was no way out? Or were they just frightened of change? The spirit didn’t know enough to come up with an answer. It didn’t understand humanity enough to say. But it knew its friend, the bard, and it knew that he would never be scared of change. Instead, he would only ever fear life staying as it was.

The life of a caged songbird was an easy one, but it offered no opportunity for growth. There was no experience to be had within these walls, and at the least, the spirit knew that. So, when the bard turned to it with determination shining in his sky-blue eyes, the spirit understood that change was in the air.

There would be no going back from this. The bard inspired with his words. That was his power. With a hand outstretched to the spirit, he said, “Let’s do this, then. Let’s cast out the tyrant, and tear down the walls. We can take our plight to the masses and garner allies. If all of the city will fight, then what can one single Archon hope to achieve?”

Strength in numbers. That was the key to their locked door, the solution to the puzzle before them. If they showed the scrolls to the people, if the bard sung of the outside and what awaited there, then they could sway opinions.

That night, the wind spirit made a decision. It left Mondstadt for the first time in an age, and it traversed the mountainous region until it found an eagle. It watched it in flight, beating its wings against the midnight sky, stars twinkling above. It thought that, maybe, in the future, there should be a place to watch for sights just like this. Somewhere to view the stars. The sky.

As the eagle flew, a feather fell from its plumage. Inspired, the wind spirit leapt into action, snatching it from the air and cradling the large feather close to its tiny body. It was taller than it, and most definitely heavy, but it was inexplicably beautiful. Brown and soft like an embrace, it would make a wonderous gift for his bard friend.

But, oh, when to give it? Now felt too early. But what if the spirit was to stash it away? Keep it safe and present it to the bard when the battle was won, when the outside world was accessible to them all? Yes. To give it now would only upset the bard. It would only reinforce how he was still locked away.

So the wind spirit took the feather back to Mondstadt, hiding it within the cathedral. Its time would come. Once the rebellion was over, he would hand it over proudly.

After all, it thought, I’ll follow you anywhere, my friend.

~x~

  “Hey, Master Diluc…do you have any regrets?” Venti asked.

He’d come to an abrupt stop while telling his story. Thankfully, his glass was still half-full, which was good because he knew he was going to need it for the last part. Diluc, who had been cleaning his own glass, stopped sharply in his movements.

The bar was much quieter now than it had been when Venti had been performing. Most of the other patrons had left by now. It was getting late, and yet Diluc had not done his last call. Instead, he’d carried on listening to Venti’s story, giving him his undivided attention.

“I…have my own, yes,” Diluc said stiffly. “None that I’m willing to share.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to.” Venti sighed, his earlier cheer having vanished entirely. “I have tons. Guess it’s hard not to, though. Comes with the territory and all. Being old is tough. I dunno how Morax does it.”

“Liyue’s Archon?”

“Yeah. He’s even older than me. He’s seen a lot of death and war in his time. Lost people close to him. That’s how it is.” Venti paused, leaning his elbow on the counter, and then his head on his hand. With his other hand, he circled the circumference of the glass. “I’m not even half his age, did you know?”

“I didn’t, but Morax doesn’t have anything to do with you being underage in my bar.” Diluc put his glass behind the counter and stood back. “So, I can make an educated guess here. You should have given the bard the feather when you had the chance.”

“It’s one of those funny things, huh? When you look back, you can see exactly what you should have done.” Venti thought on it any time he saw an eagle. If he could go back, he would never have stashed the feather. “The rebellion moved fast, once it began to assemble. Decarabian’s lover, Amos, she was swift and deft and eager to join the battle when it finally broke out. She went to the frontlines; she stormed the tower she’d once called home. The knight, he played the part of protectorate. I remember being so impressed, but…then, the God of Storms descended from his tower. And Amos was nowhere in sight.”

Venti’s fingers twitched. He still had her bow, and he sometimes wielded it into his own battles. It was all he’d managed to retrieve from her body, when he’d found it, rent asunder by Decarabian’s winds. Until that moment, he’d never known how damaging his element could be. Anemo was a wonderous thing, but so destructive too. That was the lesson he’d learned.

“You still haven’t gotten to your point, bard,” Diluc said. “I’m waiting with bated breath.”

He certainly didn’t sound like he was, but who was Venti to deny him? Smiling wryly, he began his song once more, building to the climax.

But the war was not without loss

And friends he loved were lost

And as those arrows flew free

For freedom, his life was cost.

~x~

In the aftermath of the battle, as the sun dawned on Mondstadt for the first time in ages, it was the lover that the wind spirit found first, though she was recognizable only from her hair, pale, near white where it hadn’t been stained red with her blood.

Debris had been cast across the city. The God of Storm’s anger had ripped it apart. The lover’s bow was held loose in her fingers, and the wind spirit touched it in sorrow. It was not big enough to take it in its hands. Freedom had been so close for her, and yet she had died in her pursuit of it.

In the storm, the wind spirit had been thrown from its companions, and now it sought them in the wreckage. There were bodies, countless, and the wind spirit found itself wondering, was liberty worth such loss? It had to be, surely. This was what the bard had been dreaming of.

Survivors sought their loved ones. The wind spirit searched too for its own. It had to bring them back to the lover, to retrieve her bow and lay her to rest. She had gone ahead, but the knight had remained behind alongside the bard. He would have protected him. That was his strength.

And indeed, it was the knight whom the spirit found then, hair as red as the apple that the spirit had forged a friendship with. He was knelt over someone as he cast his gaze at the decimated tower of Decarabian, and oh, how the wind spirit’s heart soared. It fluttered through the air, desperate to get to him—

Only to stop short when it laid its own eyes on the body that the knight held close. Arrows riddled their chest, turning their well-worn cloak red with blood. Their braids, so familiar, hung loose and undone. Almost unrecognizable was he, the bard whom the spirit had so dedicated his existence to.

Death was not something the spirit understood well, for it was not something that happened to elemental spirits. Surely the bard was simply injured. He did not look so bad as the lover did. Humans were tough, after all. A little Hydro magic, and he would be perfectly fine. They just had to find a healer.

But as the spirit drew closer, it began to realise that it would not be so simple. Healers only worked on those who still breathed, and the bard was as still as bedrock in the hold of the knight. The knight himself wore an expression so stricken with agony that the wind spirit could hardly believe it. He didn't look like the same man he had been before.

When he noticed the spirit, he ducked his head low in sorrow. The bard did not stir; he was not sleeping. Even when the spirit poked at him, he did not move.

Prod. Prod. Prod. Nose. Lips. Cheeks.

The boy did not crack his eyes open, because he was no longer with them.

A strange, brittle noise split the air. The spirit did not realise it was its own wails until the knight took it in hand and held it close. Why did it hurt so much? It was not injured, and yet it felt as if it had been torn apart by Decarabian himself.

In many ways, it had.

“I am sorry,” said the knight, whose remorse bled into his own voice. “Even my best was not enough to save him.”

But all the little spirit could do was blame itself. If it had not been separated, it thought, then could it have done something? It would have followed the bard to the end, but now, he had gone to the one place that the spirit could not follow. The caged songbird was dead, murdered in its search for freedom.

The eagle’s feather was nothing more than an empty promise, one that would never be fulfilled. As birds flitted their way across the unbound sky of Mondstadt, that was all the spirit could think.

~x~  

“There were discussions, after, but I won’t bore you with the details. All you need to know is that Boreas chickened out of responsibility, so yours truly took up being the new Anemo Archon—and, well, that meant I got a whole lot of new powers too.”

Angel’s Share was near empty now, just Venti and Diluc left. Venti’s glass had been drained dry, and he was beginning to feel the buzz of it. Good. It was better that way.

Diluc took the glass and said, “Meaning you were a wind spirit no longer.”

“Well, yeah, and no. I’m still the wind spirit inside. If I dissolve this form, that’s what you’d see. Tiny little elf, that’s me.” Venti grinned and swung his legs off the stall. “But…I’m not gonna dissolve this form. Or change it. Because if I did, it’d hardly be honouring my friend now, would it?”

Diluc’s sigh was so heavy that even his shoulders deflated. “I had a feeling that might be the case. Still weighs on you even now, doesn’t it?”

Venti nodded. At least Diluc was clever enough to read between the lines. “I loved him. My friend, the bard—I did everything I could to honour him. He was a bard, so I learned how to sing. He wanted freedom, so I made that my core. He was Venti, so Venti was who I became—but the stories didn’t remember the name of the bard, so I decided to keep his memory alive like this. Barbatos is my true name, the name he gave me, but Venti is who I am when I want to live a little like he did. Free.”

“So, that new song tonight,” Diluc said, packing away the glass and the rest of the countertop. “What was that? An elegy for him?”

“An elegy? Nah. That’s more a lament for the dead, but this…well. I don’t wanna lament his life. There’s no point, he wouldn’t want it. I’d rather celebrate it instead. But everyone says it sounds sad. I guess my idea is different to everyone else's. huh?”

Diluc frowned. Times like this, he reminded Venti of the knight, with that stern expression. Maybe they were not so different, even with the thousands of years between them. “And what was the final verse again?”

Picking up his lyre once more, Venti let his fingers strum at it for the backing tune. Though the initial verses were indeed tragic, the final verses were not those of remorse or grief, but of the happiest ending he could come up with. Yes, his bard friend was long gone; nothing would bring him back, and yet Mondstadt stood tall and proud, free as it had been that day two thousand, six hundred years before.

But in his death, he found it

The freedom he’d so sought

To the heavens his soul flew on to

His struggles not for nought  

So Mondstadt let me tell you,

Of violent tales of old,

Of that boy, no name or stature,

Took on his journey bold

Diluc closed his eyes as Venti continued to play the lyre, even when the song was finished. Sometimes, music was soothing in its own way. It didn’t need a literal story; the notes told its own.

“Thanks for the story,” he said eventually. “But that song still sounds like an elegy. Anyway, don’t think of this as a pass to come drinking in here looking like that all the time. At least do it when it’s quiet.”

“Diluc!” Venti gasped. “Is that an invitation to come singing in here more often?”

“I have no idea how you managed to get that out of what I just said,” Diluc narrowed his eyes. “If you want to play here, I don’t care. It’s me getting a charge for serving a child that I have to be worried about.”

“Like I’d ever let that happen!” Venti hopped off the seat, hands on his hips as he stood proud. “You know who you’re talking to?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Fortunately, yes,” Venti corrected. “And anyway, Jean would never let you be ruined for serving me, right? You’re fine. But…hey. Thanks for listening. Sometimes, it’s nice to tell the full story. Even if it hurts, it’s good to share it. Helps pass on the memory a little.”

Diluc nodded, answering only with a soft hum. Picking up the lyre, Venti continued to play it as Diluc finished his duties behind the counter, counting up his coin and clearing up the mess.

Until he snuffed out the final candle and the two departed, soft, dulcet tones rang out, telling a story all of its own.

[blushing-titan]

Eren as a father and Ymir as a mother motives theory never made sense. They were represented as emotionally stunned children in paths doing the Rumbling, not as adults. Ymir never cared about her children, she doomed them to suffer after her VERY SHITTY AND SELFISH CHOICE TO DIE because her abuser didn't return her "love". That was clear before Eren revealed it. She saved him and abandoned her children. She never gave a single fuck about them. She was always looking at HIM. (1)

For his part, Eren reverted to a child, talked about the sights with Armin which foreshadowed his motivation was mixed with his mental fuckery and timeless perspective. Dina and bird twist were foreshadowed via memory shards earlier. Krueger went on a rant about protecting Armin and Mikasa (and the "others") to Grisha. We've always known who Eren prioritized above all. Last chapter offered no twists, only confirmations. The story was always about EMA, Historia never had a place in the climax.

Hi! Thank you very much for writing 😀 I put my reply under the cut, so people who scroll down while searching tags don’t have problems with my long post (...because I feel like, unfortunetely, it’s gonna be another stream of conciousness from me, sorry about that 😅)

I really like your take on the "emotionally stunned children in paths" imaginery - I fully agree that it's a nicely-done symbolism!

To me, the whole Ymir sacrificed herself because of her unrequited love was not at all as clear and obvious as you say - especially before Eren revealed it. I still have a lot of problems with this plot twist, and how Ymir's feelings towards Fritz were portrayed in the end.

With the amount of abuse and mistreatment the king put her through, many fans tried to come up with different theories as to why Ymir kept on serving him. The way I interpreted it, after seeing her tortured expression over and over in many panels, was that she stayed by his side because of fear and emotional damages. With the way she was living, I was not surprised that she sacrificed herself, too - I thought that she honestly had enough, which added to the tradgedy of how she still couldn't find peace after that, and kept on being enslaved in paths.

I saw many takes and theories on her motives, but I don't think I've ever seen anyone betting on she was actually in love before ch. 139. I probably didn't search good enough, but again - with what I saw in the manga, I would have never bet on that either. My point is - before ch. 139 (...and after it too, in my opinion) Ymir was a walking mystery with unclear motives, so there were a lot of theories. Therefore, I disagree that the "parents" theory could never work - it obviously doesn’t work now, after ch. 139, but before that, her motivation could be anything really. I still wish it was something else, because what we got was too vague and problematic, in my opinion. 

I simply dislike Ymir's conclusion. I feel like there was so much potential in her backstory and motives + a few different ways to tie it back with different plotpoints and characters in the end to make it more meaningful, but what we got was a brief: She was in love with the person who abused her, I know it sounds unbelievable but I couldn't look deeper into her heart, so we have to take it as it is.

In general - I can't brush it off, but to me it feels like Ymir's end goal was rushed, not explored properly, and almost pulled out of nowhere. Unfortunately, I feel the same about Mikasa's involvement in lifting the titan's curse. Don't get me wrong - I'm not at all against her becoming the hero. Quite the opposite, I was rooting for her since the beginning, and hoped to see her develop and have a big moment, but this...this honestly also felt pulled out of nowhere and, in my eyes, didn't do Mikasa justice at all. I wish there was more proper build-up and foreshadowing done so I (...and, from what I've seen, a huge portion of fans) wouldn't feel that way, but here we are.

As for the Eren/Armin conversation, I like how they got to "see" the world together, even though just as a visualisation in the paths. My problem is the [...] Eren reverted to a child, talked about the sights with Armin which foreshadowed his motivation was mixed with his mental fuckery and timeless perspective part. Again, this should have been forshadowed (...and developed in general!) much sooner - not in the final chapter, right before we learn about this controversial motivation of his.

Instead, for many chapters, we were lead to believe that Eren was acting with his original goals and personal motivations in mind; that he had some character developement which caused him to start thinking his actions through, stop acting so impulsively - and finally, that he had a plan in mind, or at least was acting out of his own free will.

If you've never seen him in this light and his motivation/behaviour seemed in character in the last chapter to you - that's fine, all power to you! But if such a big portion of the fanbase felt otherwise (me included), then it means that there were some writing issues that led to this.

The Dina situation should have been explored more, as well. It's a huuuge plot twist, which puts our MC's motovations in an entirely new light, and creates quite a few additional plot-related questions. The way we're shown the situation: Berthold couldn't die just yet, so Eren directed Dina somewhere else, which ended up being his house.

...why not anywhere else? He could literally send her back outside the wall. On top of that - did he seriously sacrifice his mother in favour of his friends? I'd really like more information on this, but the topic is cut basically as soon as it appears. I find it especially unnatural, considering the way further dialogue goes:

Eren tells Armin about how he caused his mother's demise. Armin makes a terrified face, but drops the topic, smiles and casually proceeds with: "Let's go, Eren" - like his friend didn't just reveal one of the most controversial plot twist in the series. No, who'd want to hear an elaboration on that - better talk about Mikasa, so instead we get the entire (in my eyes - really forced) Eremika-themed talk. The priorities...

About the bird thing...if I remember correctly, there were three shards revolving around this theme. Two of them just show birds flying, one of them shows Falco from bird’s perpective. Sure, now that we know that some random bird in the end pecked on Mikasa's scarf, we can kiiiiiind of connect it to the Falco's shard...but honestly, why was Eren's soul transferred into some random bird after his death? On top of that, a bird that was already existing in the world while he was still alive, as a human...did that bird’s conciousness just go poof! one day, for Eren to take the vacant spot? Should we also look for other deceased titan shifters in barns or birdhouses? 😅 I can’t believe I’m overthinking it this hard...😆

That's some three-eyed-parasitic-jeager stuff, for sure.

Jokes aside, I guess what I'm trying to say is that foreshadowing is fun and great, but it should go hand in hand with proper developement - and, in my opinion, the examples above kinda lack it (...ok, I'd let the "bird Eren" thing slide because whatever, I don't feel the need to be that serious about it, it could stay ambigous in my opinion - but I'd definitely want some more closure as for the Dina situation or Ymir’s motivations and inner thoughts)

I've always said that Armin and Mikasa were two of Eren's closest friends - or, even more, the only people he considered family. I've also never believed that he would ever willingly sacrifice them, as some people theorized (...though guess what, now that I know what happened to his mother, I have to rethink my reasoning). I understand that EMA are the main characters, and was expecting that the story's conclusion will be tied to them somehow, but definitely not at the expense of logical character and story developement (...and sorry - to me the ending just felt that way).

As for Historia: if she was never supposed to be important in the end, then, in my eyes, it's a very poorly guided plotline that only led to unecessary drama in the fanbase. Why make her situation look sus with things such us:

Incorrect conception date,

The emphasis on how she didn't marry the father of her baby (...only to reveal in ch. 139 that she, in fact, did that),

The mysterious, cloaked figure observing her talking to the farmer,

The whole talk with Eren in ch. 130, and Eren thinking back to it while talking with Zeke.

All the Historia/Ymir parallels.

Seriously, what was the point? It would be so easy to simply make the situation clear. Why not just make Historia admit to Eren in ch. 131: "yes, I'm already pregnant with the farmer's baby - I did it to save myself."? Why not cut the bs with the "she didn't marry him" - because, in all honesty, what did that information bring into the story, aside from confusion and "misunderstanding" - and just make them married, instead? Even better - why not have at least one panel showing Historia and farmer being at least somehow affectionate with each other? Why not let go of all this retconned stuff and use these panels for shelling out other plotpoints?

The theories didn't come out of nowhere - they were based on what was shown in the manga. People wouldn't be disappointed with Historia's conclusion if it was never implied that she was still somehow important. We may argue about it back and forth, but the truth is - when so many people collectively "misunderstand" a certain plotline to this extent, then it means there had to be some storytelling issues that led them to this - simple as that.

To sum it up, I'm happy that you enjoyed the chapter and found it logical and satisfying. I absolutely don't want to take that away from you, or make you change your mind, but I also can't help the fact that I don't see it in the same light as you. You say that the final chapter offered no twists, only confirmations - to me, it was pretty much the opposite. Still, I wanted to thank you for taking the time to write your thoughts, and sorry it took me so long to reply! Hope you're having a nice day 😄

[magpiemorality]

Okay okay okay can we learn more about Tall Logan :0?

You absolutely can :D

Warnings: fantasy battle and accompanying implied violence, minor character death (multiple), implied injury

First | Previous | AO3

***

"I'd like to tell you a tale, Remus," Logan said one evening. It was the depth of what passed for winter there in the land of eternal temperate weather. Mostly the nights just felt a little longer, and Eavan's cousins had joined them to journey into the mountains to explore for the season. They'd found a cave and had stoked up a fire, and with Eavan's head in his lap Remus had suggested they find a way to pass the time.

"You have my leave," Remus agreed, getting comfortable and pulling his Fae into his lap and back against his chest to cuddle. "What's it about, your tale?"

Logan glanced at the two other cousins, and they apparently understood some unspoken signal because the first sat bolt upright with wide eyes and the other hid his face in the first's side with a soft sound. "A King, a long time ago," Logan answered slowly, dragging his eyes away from the other two and back over to Remus. "A King of lands unimaginable. Perhaps more than a King, because he ruled entirely unopposed for more years than can be counted, revered almost as a god of the world you now tread."

Eavan shifted. "I don't know this tale," he murmured.

"That's because I have never told it. It's too old and too sad for most days, but it feels right to tell it now, here." Logan and the other two Fae looked around with a curious expression in their eyes before all three refocused on the fire, their glow outlining them to Remus from the opposite side. "Will you hear it?"

The mortal shrugged and his Fae nodded. "Yes, go right ahead," Remus agreed, and tugged his Firefly a little closer for comfort as they got ready to listen.

The tallest Fae nodded slowly, staring into the fire with eyes already gone distant again. "Where to start?" He murmured to himself, as the air hung still and saturated with anticipation.

For a moment the only sound was the soft crackle of the flames, before the Fae who'd hidden his face sat back up, still clutching the other for support. "Start with the beginning of the end, Lo," he whispered, reaching out a hand that Logan took, locking their fingers together. The second Fae nodded his agreement, curling tighter around the first, gazing attentively at their soon-to-be storyteller.

"The beginning of the end, indeed."

"I must stress first that it truly was a shock when things changed. Change was almost unthinkable before that time, after so long of the same and the same and more of the same. The world was smaller then, or perhaps it was bigger, but it felt entirely complete from land to sea to sky and nothing ever strayed from the norm. Oh, people would travel, bicker perhaps, have their own little intrigues and very occasionally there were children born or changes to households through bonding ceremonies or departures, but true change was quite inconceivable. Even the land was simple then, mostly flat plains and rolling hills all covered in rich forest, and the folk gathered in large droves around the shore where the seas would provide for there was little water inland.

The first tremors of change came with the winds. Where there had once been peace with the sky before now there was instead a restlessness. The flurries agitated the trees, and the tides, and the people who walked across the land, sometimes playful or gentle but often biting and bitter and cruel. The King who ruled heard of this new attitude of his once great ally, but little did he know he should not blame the wind, for it was not of its own accord that it was acting so strange.

If only they'd known that then.

Next came the seas, clashing on the shore, stealing the fish, drawing out and rushing in, still when they should run with current and sneaky when anyone tried to swim. Too many were lost to the depths before caution was observed, and the sprawling towns that ran up and down the shoreline grew afraid, always waiting for the sea to rise and claim their homes as it seemed so likely to do.

Which left, of course, just the land as not turned traitor to the folk that lived on it. Before the land could inevitably also rise up against them, the King had word of a possible cause of all of their sudden troubles. There was a faction of miscreants, troublemakers, traitors, who were using magics too dark to contemplate to upset the world against the inhabitants thereof. They weren't targeting the King directly, nor did they seem to have much motivation other than to sow pure chaos, but what they were spreading in its wake was fear and uncertainty and most importantly doubt. People were growing wary and losing faith in their King, and the witches and warlocks delighted in what they'd caused, growing ever bolder.

The King called a council swiftly together, of the Lords of the land he presided over. They came from every corner, all but one. She was called Lord of West because of where she held dominion, but she had reportedly been waylaid by a group of these fanatics. At first there was much sorrow and shock, because Fae were so rarely lost in those days, and even now death is often far from our minds. But the messenger who brought the news had other information to share as well.

The fanatics had been bold, loudly proclaiming themselves true children of the land, which in our oldest language we knew as 'dragon'. These dragons had spun their sorcery over the Lord and had not killed her but entrapped her in a new form, that was bound to unleash destruction on the towns, already burning a wide trail through the forests from her home towards their goal, leaving great swathes of open land where once the trees had flourished.

So the sorrow turned to rage and determination, and the King and his council rode out, gathering armies out of Fae who were more used to tilling and tending the land than defending it. There were a few protests from those Fae who turned out to be sympathetic to the cause, calling for change and crowing injustice whenever they were caught and expelled from the army, but the King and his people carried on despite the growing dissent and he told his people to be merciful, to let them leave to join their chosen side and fight with what honour they had left.

They intercepted the dragons, the Fae who had joined them, and their enslaved Lord long before they reached the peaceful shore, clashing against them army to gaggle of scum. The fight was long and bloody and hard, and magic rent and tore the world around them all, pulling seas inland in great rivers, thrusting the earth up to form new mountains at the top of which great storms gathered, shaking trees down many miles away from earthquakes that rocked the ground beneath their feet.

But they were vanquished when one brave young Fae threw themself from their horse and climbed up the wing of the Lord, foolishly sacrificing themself so that she may be freed from the magic with a spell that has been since banished from memory. The energy involved in that sacrifice shook the foundations of the earth more than any quake before and all those who had fought on those plains were lost in a moment. Too much other magic lay in the air and the sacrifice in the end, ended the battle only at unbelievable cost.

The King himself had been stood at what passed for the enchanted Lord's feet, near the very epicentre of the spell, attempting to reach one of the dragons spouting the foulest magic.

The remaining Fae saw the lights all the way from their homes by the sea and knew what it meant. That magic left behind the first cracks through to the world of mortals, and the Fae that remained living became wary of one another and governed only in small tribes at most. The shoreside towns were abandoned as the seas grew too unpredictable and the Fae became rovers, almost solitary, wild. Changed.

In many ways the dragons in fact achieved their goals."

Logan paused for breath, shaking his head slowly and bowing it with a weight Remus could almost see crushing down on him. "That's... awful," the mortal whispered hoarsely, hugging Eavan tighter. The air felt colder and he shivered.

"Awful does not begin to cover it," the second cousin said, lifting his head from where he'd clung to the first. "It hurts my very soul to hear the tale."

"And there is more to come, hush," the first murmured, still holding Logan's hand tightly. "There is more, Lo. Don't stop there." They all watched as Logan took a deep, unsteady breath, and lifted his head again, squaring his shoulders with a determined nod.

"Quite right."

"It was not the end of the story for the King. For he had not been killed, but thrown far, far away. The dragon he had been fighting had hit him with a bolt of some still unknown magic at the moment the sacrifice was made. I'm sure you may have realised by now that magic is incredibly delicate, and easily mixed and merged to disastrous effect. That magic that enveloped the King combined with the sacrificial spell and every other piece of wild magic in the air and, through some stroke of perhaps fated luck; protected the heart of him as he was transported.

For many years he remained unseen, unknown and yet alive, healing deep in the mountains with V- it appears I- I must have missed a part, my apologies.

Something else happened when he first awoke after the battle. There was the sound of a child crying, and he sat up. Everything hurt, of course it did after what he'd been through, but he could only think to get to the child. A tiny Fae child, so rare, was lying nearby and calling for him. He cradled it in his arms and promised to care for it. No one else could be nearby, he reasoned, if they'd left the child next to his body and run off.

Except there was someone else. Another Fae, but this one an adult. He was surprised to find the King awake, and explained that he'd been running with the child, fleeing from the growing mountains, when he had heard an almighty crash and had diverted to investigate as the mountains finally settled and the magic dispersed. He had recognised the King and set out to find the herbs to help with his injuries, leaving the child alongside his body as he swiftly searched nearby. His home had once been where the mountains now stood, he said, and the remains of it lay far up in the peaks that towered above them. He had pledged himself immediately to help the King and the child, and together they built a home in a cavern, far away from the rest of the Fae where they would be safe and the King could recover.

It was slow progress, and the King insisted every time the Fae offered, that they not send word to anyone about his whereabouts. He was changed, he said, and he had only one charge left to protect, which was the child. After a while the answer changed to two charges, as the other Fae grew to mean much to him in their solitary convalescence. Years passed until they were all strong enough to travel, and the King finally felt restless enough to want to see the aftermath of what had happened, ready to mourn the losses and adapt to the new world.

They found the world as I said, much changed. Insular, isolated pockets of Fae, distrustful and doubtful and proud. It hurt his heart to see it, and to see how few and far between they really had become, but nonetheless there were survivors and he could be nothing but glad for that. The Fae with him helped him raise the orphan child as they journeyed, and they found a new and deeper bond between them, growing close on their long travels across the world that he'd once called his own.

While there were many years to come we will skip to the final chapter to this story. It comes some while after, when the King had long been forgotten. Or so he had thought, but one auspicious day, upon finding a copse and staying in it a while, they were interrupted by another Fae journeying, equally restlessly, across the land.

Once a member of the King's court, this new Fae recognised his King immediately and wept to find him alive, falling into his arms with grief and relief in equal measures. They spoke for many long hours as his first companion tended the child, and after much arguing finally agreed that the decision to no longer be king was the right one, much as the court Fae despised seeing his King no longer afforded the respect his long term of service to their people had rightfully earned. He joined their party and ever since they have all roamed together, closer than family, the three of them raising the child as their young cousin until he was ready to explore the land of his own accord.

The young child Fae left, roaming alone, and for a long while the three old Fae travelled without him. They turned to a new task, keeping order among the Fae that remained in the world and keeping as tight a grasp as possible on the doorways between your land and ours. Their little cousin visited from time to time, until one day he quite abruptly vanished from the world. And when he at last returned he brought an entirely new chapter to their lives, one that has yet again changed things anew. Perhaps, hopefully, for the better."

Logan leaned back and nodded slowly, satisfied with the conclusion to his storytelling.

They sat in silence for a while, gazing at the flickering fire and letting the tale sit in the air between them all. Then the first cousin, the one holding Logan's hand, squeezed it and leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek with a soft look, and the other took up residence on the tallest Fae's other side, bracketing Logan with twin embraces.

Eavan sighed quietly, absently stroking the back of Remus's hand where it sat over his stomach. "It sounds familiar somehow, but I don't believe you've told it before," he said, frowning over at his cousins, something tense in the line of his shoulders as though his words weren't quite revealing everything they were actually saying. "It is true?"

"More true than most," the first cousin said with a smile, even though his voice was hoarse with repressed emotion. "Most of it was a very long time ago though."

"I remember it still," Logan said sagely.

Remus looked up at him with raised eyebrows, trying to read the expression on the tall Fae's face. "You remember it? Were you there? Did you know the King?"

"In a sense," Logan replied with a wry smile. "In some ways I only joined the story later on, but that's a matter of interpretation. And as for the King, I knew him better than anyone, you might say."

"Oh talking in riddles is unfair," the second cousin said, snorting softly. "You chose to tell the tale and you must answer their questions now."

"I will, I will. But tomorrow, after the night is done. Leave tonight for stories, tomorrow we can come to truth and answers."

Silence fell again as the five went wandering in their own thoughts. Remus could feel Eavan shifting restlessly and wondered what was going on in that pretty blond head. He was clearly thinking something through but whatever it was was, Remus was apparently going to have to wait until the morning to find out. Remus had learned a new patience from the experience of living with his Firefly, and while often he had to fight to outlast Eavan's stubbornness; this time he thought he might be able to guess what thoughts troubled his beloved.

It wouldn't be such a stretch to imagine Logan as the King of the story, with the two other Fae completing the trio, and his Fae, his Eavan as the child they'd found. It was mysteries upon mysteries and opened more questions than it answered, but such seemed to be the way with these Fae in particular, and Remus counted himself lucky to have been generously given a piece of the puzzle at all, no matter how small it might end up being.

If he was a betting man though; he'd put all he had on this being the biggest piece of all.

--

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Goodnight, Aaron (Aaron Hotchner x OC) Chapter 5

Summary: After being grilled about his ex-girlfriend on what is meant to be a fun birthday outing, Sebastian gets some new information dropped on him by a worn-out Jack.

AN: Sorry I haven't posted in a while! Been a bit busy with job and family stuff. Hope you enjoy this chapter. This chapter is mostly unedited sorry!

Tagging: @sunlight-moonrise, @clean-bands-dirty-stories, @genevievedarcygranger, and @davidrossi-ismydad

Chapter 4 // Masterlist // AO3 Link

“They asked you to coach?”

Sebastian watched Jack run off to warm up with his team, then he turned back to Hotch who clicked the car keys to lock, “Do they know what you do for a living? And they’ve asked you to coach before? Mental.”

Hotch let out a chuckle at how utterly ridiculous Sebastian made it sound. And, truth be told, it was “mental” that Hotch was still coaching his son and their team when he still had to wrangle together his own team back at the BAU.

Sebastian adjusted his bag strap, “You need to learn to say ‘no’ to some people, Aaron.”

Hotch shook his head, playing into that teasing tone that had worked its way ito the conversation, “Well I don’t suppose you would be up for it?”

“I know nothing about football.”

“Soccer.”

“Soccer,” and Hotch laughed at the way Sebastian’s nose wrinkled as he mimicked the accent – albeit with heavy exaggeration on the vowels.

“Dave!”

Hotch’s hand raised into the air, catching the attention of his co-worker. Sebastian felt the pressure crank up to eleven as David Rossi sauntered over. He did not look like he was about to coach little league. He looked like he was about to go to one of his many villas in Europe and lounge around there for two weeks drinking wine.

 “David Rossi, this is Sebastian Porter.”

“Jack’s nanny, of course,” Rossi shook his hand heartily. Sebastian immediately wanted Rossi to be the cool uncle he never had.

He couldn’t think of anything wittier to say than this: “And you work with Aaron. On and off the pitch.”

“Couldn’t let him do it alone,”

“My ride’s here, so I’ll see you this evening. Nice meeting you, David.”

Though Sebastian was already behind schedule, he spared himself the embarrassment of his boss watching him lightly jogging over to his companions - and said companions clowning him for said light jogging.

“Aww, a lil peewee match?” Bellamy teased loudly, though not loud enough for the team to hear her.

Sebastian wanted to give her a playful shove, but he didn’t trust that she wouldn’t slide off her rollerblades deliberately, so instead he retorted, “Bullying kids, Bellamy? I thought you couldn’t stoop any lower.”

Klaus stopped rolling back and forth on his BMX, “Which one’s the boss then?”

“Wearing the white polo and shorts, not holding the clipboard.”

Klaus squinted behind his par of wholly unnecessary sunglasses, “Hmm, both are fit.”

“Come on, you’re staring,” and Sebastian twisted Klaus’ baseball cap around backwards before climbing onto the back of the bike.

As Klaus gave an indignant retort, he pushed off and began to cycle away. Sebastian’s hands gripped his shoulders tight and he opted to send a smile in his boss’ direction as opposed to a wave. Bellamy, the embarrassing mom type that she was, waved with both hands and skated backwards as she went.

Their afternoon sesh was off to a rocking start when Sebastian refused even one drink – sticking instead to a diet soda – while Bellamy and Klaus went for bottomless Bellini’s.

Bellamy discussed what children the new term had brought her. A short summary was that they were all little shits whom she adored and would protect with her life. That had been her track record for the part three years she had taught at this high school. The trio clinked glasses in celebration to her track record.

“Honestly, they’re so ready to get to using the Bunsen burners. It’s gonna be bonkers,” She beamed as a server brought her a refilled glass, “Can’t wait to bust out the copper.”

“As much as I love you talking science to me,” Klaus paused to put on a solemn mask that was cracked from the triumph he was wearing beneath, “We have to talk about Pippa while I’m still partially sober.”

When both his friends zeroed in on him whilst sipping their Bellini’s through straws, Sebastian all but exploded with excuses, “Oh my god, I get it! You told me so! It’s been a month! Can we drop it?”

“You went back to her!” Klaus ignored Sebastian’s “I know’s” with his head craning to reach over his friend’s voice, “After everything she did to you! You that desperate for attention?”

“Yeah!”

Both Bellamy and Klaus ceased their teasing, Klaus dropping back into his chair as he said, “Woah, ok, sorry dude.”

“It’s ok.”

Bellamy took Sebastian’s glass away, “Babe, that’s really depressing, you sure you haven’t been drinking?” She took a long sniff, her nose twirling around the rim before sliding it back to Sebastian, “No, he really is that deep.”

“Ha ha.”

Both Bellamy and Klaus sobered up considerably, the tone of their voices shifting into quiet support as Bellamy draped her arm around Sebastian’s shoulders, “I’m glad you got out of it, Bash.”

“Me too. And Rachael.”

“Ooo, how is Rachael?” Klaus pushed his sunglasses up his nose. How he looked like such a douchebag, shades on indoors, yet so happy with that status, Sebastian didn’t care to think about right now.

“She’s got a job in a firm now, big proper one.”

“Oooh! Can she get me out of my parking tickets?”

Suddenly the lights dimmed and Bellamy whipped out her phone, grinning behind it as Klaus looked up and around with a baby’s curiosity.

A troop of servers marched over with the birthday cake Bellamy had dropped off earlier that day. Its bright red buttercream icing Klaus went very quiet, a bashful smile glowing in the candlelight as the restaurant turned its attention to sing “Happy Birthday” to him.

“Happy Birthday, Klaus.” Bellamy and Sebastian kissed both his cheeks at the same time, a perfect photo op that one of the servers took for them.

The birthday boy was gracious enough to share his cake and give Sebastian a ride home after a few more drinks. Of water, Sebastian insisted that Klaus sober up a little so they weren’t going to crash the bike before his night out.

At the crossroads, Bellamy turned left when they went right, her arm stretching out to them like she was watching her loved one get shipped off to war. Sebastian was dropped off shortly after, just outside the block of flats, and Klaus was already off before Sebastian could tackle him with a hug. So he shouted after him. Nothing expletive, but it was enough for Klaus to look over his shoulder and smirk, swerving not a second later to avoid an incoming pedestrian.

When Sebastian entered the flat, Hotch and Rossi were in the sitting room, lounging in the settee over a bottle of whiskey artistically placed on the coffee table.

“Hey, how was the training?”

“Tough, but those kids are tougher.” Rossi raised his drink to his statement, and Sebastian thought about how he could subtly slide some adoption papers across the coffee table.

“Do you want a drink?” Hotch asked.

Already going to the kitchen, Sebastian checked in the stew he’d prepped that morning in the slow cooker, “I’m good, thanks.” He was a little peeved that he’d spent the afternoon sober, especially during the bashing of the ex-girlfriend, but he could always grab a nightcap later on. “Where’s Jack?”

“I SCORED A GOAL!”

Sebastian smile strained as he saw the state of Jack’s shorts once he rounded the corner to the kitchen. His shirt was off; clearly he was in the middle of getting changed.

“That’s brilliant, but if you come at me with them muddy keks, I’ll score a goal with you! Come back in your jammies and we’ll celebrate properly.” And he shooed Jack away to the bathroom. The star striker to be disappeared, his muddy rear skidding into his bedroom with the door closing quick behind him.

“‘Keks’?” Rossi repeated with an eyebrow raised.

So Sebastian clarified, “Trousers.”

“You mean pants.”

Sebastian narrowed his eyes at Hotch’s so-called correction before saying again, “No, keks.”

Thankfully they saw the funny side of it, allowing a hint of strain to drop from Sebastian’s shoulders just in time for Jack to come running back in. This time, he was wearing pyjamas.

Sebastian caught him neatly and plonked him on the countertop, “Tell me all about practice!”

As Sebastian prepared the rest of dinner, Jack babbled away about the training and his teammates. His energy by comparison to the other conversation between Hotch and Rossi caused theirs to stagnate in favour of joining in. Sebastian carried Jack across to the other counters without impeding his speech, keeping an eye on him and the food, while Hotch and Rossi joined in the storytelling.

At Jack’s description of Hotch and Rossi’s demonstration of a paired-up passing game, Sebastian’s abandoned phone began to buzz.

“Sorry Jack, I gotta get this. But why don’t you set the table?” Sebastian took him back down to Earth and shuffled him in the direction of the cutlery drawer before he picked up his mobile, “Hey, what are you doing up? Go to bed, young lady.”

Rachael replied with a heftier helping of snarkasm, “I’m in bed at the moment actually. Have you rung Mum and Dad yet?”

“I have, don’t worry,”

“Ok. Just checking.”

“Texting exists, you know? Not that I don’t delight at the sound of your grumpiness.”

“Yeah, well, you’re starting to sound more American.”

Casting an eye over to see Jack was nattering away to Hotch and Rossi, Sebastian whispered, “Shut your goddamn mouth.”

“I’ll call you after work. Love you, bye.”

“Bye.”

Sebastian hung up then slapped his free palm against his face.

Hotch caught his attention, leaning ever so slightly into his range of vision with concern, “Are you alright?”

“Forgot to say I love you, she’s gonna hold that against me for five years at least.”

As the person dishing up and the last to get to the table, Sebastian sat beside Rossi with Jack opposite him and Hotch diagonally across. There was a tautness in Sebastian’s back as he tried desperately not to gauge Rossi’s reaction to his food.

Instead Rossi reminded him of their meeting earlier, “Interesting choice in mode of transport today.”

Like a deer in the headlights, Sebastian tripped his way through his explanation, “Thanks, we’re desperately trying to reclaim our youth.” Then he popped a forkful of meat into his mouth to excuse him from further conversation.

Except Jack didn’t get the memo. “Who were you talking to on the phone?”

“My sister, Rachael, she’s got a big case on tomorrow.”

“She’s a lawyer,” Rossi pointed across the table with his fork, “Hotch was a defence attorney.”

The information was so shiny and new to Sebastian, that he forgot to implement his “you’re my boss” filter and he said, “You look for ‘intimidating’ in your job descriptions?”

No time for regret, Jack once against filled the space. “Intimidating?”

“Yeah, intimidating, big into justice, likes his suit,” and instead of back down, Sebastian leant over his plate as if to tell a secret, and Jack opposite him leant close too as Sebastian said, “Your dad’s basically Batman.”

Jack’s face lit up at the comparison, one he had made in the past, and he continued to grin as he ate his stew.

“Anyway, our kid’s following up on some advice about getting my deposit back from my bedsit. Landlord’s being an absolute bad word.”

“If you want, I can take a look at it,” Hotch offered.

Sebastian looked back at Jack with fond bemusement, “Told you, your dad’s Batman, just no billions minus the brutality.”

Hotch’s cutlery slipped and collided loudly with his plate as Sebastian said, “It’s all good, thank you. I just sent him some photos of what the mattress looked like when I first moved in, should get him to give up.”

The conversation stagnated from Sebastian, still worn out word-wise from his afternoon drinking non-drinking outing, so he was grateful for the fact he finished first and Jack finished second.

“We can leave the grown-ups now,” he said in a loud whisper, already walking off with Jack to his bedroom.

Over his shoulder, he heard Rossi say not so quietly an I-told-you-so about how “men can be nannies” and that Sebastian was a good choice. While Sebastian was relieved at he had made a good impression on Rossi, he was not so much feeling the inferred sexism his boss held. Still, he was hired now. Microaggressions could be tackled when he got to them.

Cross-legged on the carpet, Jack set about demolishing the rocket. Bricks flew across his little zone of construction. One stray red brick hit Sebastian right between his sock and his cuffed jeans.

“What are we on today, bud? Pirate ship?”

But Jack was quiet. His energy levels were definitely crashing after such a big day. Sebastian gave him space to answer if he wanted, taking charge of organising the bricks into sizes for Jack to pick from.

When there was no reply for a solid minute, Sebastian asked, “You ok?”

For a while, Jack continued his silence. He was busy looking for a very specific shape of brick. His fingers searched over the top of the pile then dove into it, fishing out the perfect piece. Then he spoke.

“Batman beats up the bad guys,” Jack said, his voice hushed, “But so does Daddy.”

Sebastian blinked then recovered just as quick, “Oh I’m not sure about that.”

But Jack shook his head with his eyes still on assembling his boat, “He beat up the man who killed Mommy. Don’t tell him, it’s a secret.”

“A secret from him?” Sebastian didn’t know he was whispering too until he had already spoken.

“He doesn’t know we know. Can you make the mast please?”

And Jack held out a square block. Sebastian blinked again and accepted the piece. Clearly Jack thought this was a very casual conversation, something that Sebastian should keep from Hotch very easily. And he was making a ship.

“Jack, have you told that to anyone else?”

“No.”

“How tall do you want the mast?”

Jack measured with the space between his hands. Taking note, Sebastian continued to stack bricks until the desired height was reached, and Jack took it off his hands, placing it in the middle of the boat.

“I’m gonna get a drink. Do you want anything?”

The little guy shook his head, now completely absorbed in his construction projects. With a pat on his head, Sebastian twisted his legs around to stand and went to stand in the hallway. The door closed behind him and he pressed his forehead against the wall. He took a deep breath, rolling his head to the left, and pushed back his shoulders. A crack from his neck introduced him to the kitchen, where he tossed a half smile at Hotch and Rossi. Then he busied himself with getting that drink. A few drops of water splashed against his wrist.

“Hey Sebastian?”

Said person looked around to see Rossi rocking on the back legs of his chair, “I don’t suppose Hotch ever told you that, when you were taking your trial day, he nearly called you every hour to see how you were doing?”

“Dave,” Hotch said with something that was clearly intended to be a warning tone. The smile he was fighting to keep off his face betrayed him.

“No, he didn’t.” He hid his smirk in his glass. It dropped fast though. The Batman comments were still heavy in his mind, and now with Jack’s context on the brutality aspect, he wasn’t really jazzed to crack another joke lest he stumble across some more unfortunate information.

Rossi didn’t seem to care about that so much, “I had to micromanage his micromanaging.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t’ve minded that.” Sebastian’s foot idly dragged across the tile in front of him, “I’m sure Jack wouldn’t’ve either. And speaking of-” He pulled out his phone and pulled up the website he and Jack had browsed during breakfast, “I have a very important question for you: can we get this bouncy castle for Jack’s birthday?”

He showed the photo of the dream castle to the two men.

“You mean a ‘bounce house’?”

“No, I mean bouncy castle. He was telling me all about wanting a slide one, he’d be over the moon if he got to bring his classmates around to go on one!”

“I suppose if we removed all my furniture and knocked down the walls, we could fit it in here,” Hotch said smartly. His eyebrows were raised as he looked away from the screen at Sebastian, who snorted. God, it wasn’t even that funny.

Once again, Rossi chimed in with his brilliant contributions, saving Sebastian from utter shame, “You know, we could have the party at my home.”

[itsclydebitches]

I guess i just remember her wanting to inherent the SDC and clear her family name that way. Something she lost the right to do in season 4 when she lost her inheritance. Only then did she seriously try to escape and really have no plan until all the salem stuff. Honestly I'm not sure why she didn't just follow Winters steps either. She got out so makes sense to just follow what she did. You still get to help others by fighting. Just in the military and not whatever huntsmen are.

I may be misremembering it too. It’s been a while since I watched the first three volumes with the exception of some specific scenes. One thing that I think is worth acknowledging though is the implication that Winter attended Atlas Academy. I doubt the military is accepting 16 year olds. Rather, I assume she went to school - just like Weiss decided to go to school - and given that she went to a school where the huntsmen training and military training combine, eventually went on to become a special operative. But she still made essentially the same choice Weiss did: go to school for four years to study combat before figuring the rest out. The only difference is which school they chose to go to. 

We could theorize/headcanon about why Weiss chose Beacon over Atlas (maybe she wants to distinguish herself from her sister, maybe she saw first-hand that the Academy wasn’t enough distance from Jacques, etc.) as well as what she thought she’d be doing with her inheritance, how much she was willing to put up with her father for it...but all that would be speculation, far as I’m aware. Which is really my overall issue with her character. Not that she made a potentially illogical/bad choice (people do that), but that the story never allowed Weiss to work through that. It’s a conflict that 3/4ths of the team share. Why does Weiss need to go to Beacon to save her family name? Why does Blake need to attend to fix the racism in her world? Why is this the answer to Yang’s desire for an exciting life? Beacon may technically fulfill all those dreams in one manner or another - it’s prestigious, it grants a certain amount of power, it’s certainly dangerous - but it’s arguably not the best path to all these goals and it’s absolutely not the only path. Oobleck started the process of getting the girls to think about why they were choosing to become huntsmen of all things, putting them in a position to either hit on why this was truly the best choice for them, or acknowledge that their goals have changed somewhat, or even leading them to the admission that being a huntsmen isn’t what they actually want... but then RWBY dropped the thread completely. 

The concept of “Traumatized teen makes a somewhat impulsive decision to escape that in retrospect may not have been the clearest/easiest path to achieving her goals” isn’t a problem. That’s actually great from a storytelling standpoint. The problem is in RWBY not doing anything with that potential, allowing it to just sit until the viewers are asking, “Why did Weiss do this?” without the expectation that they’ll get an answer. 

For me it’s the same for Weiss’ sudden ‘I’m not abandoning Mantle this is my home’ speech to Marrow. Like... you did everything possible to escape this kingdom and you are the cream of the crop who lived up in Atlas, not down below in the struggling city. Where did this ‘Mantle is my home’ passion come from, especially after a volume where she assisted in continuing to hurt it for useless reasons? Weiss is arguably one of the better written of the team, but that doesn’t mean there’s not a lot about her character that makes me pause. 

[glenrocklibraryteens]

BOOK REVIEW: OF MICE AND MEN

Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck Fiction - Realistic Number of pages: 76 Rating: 4 - Great - better than most books I’ve read Spotify Playlist, curated by reviewer, inspired by this book Reviewed by: CS

Of Mice and Men, a novella by John Steinbeck, tells the story of two ranch workers searching for jobs and to attain their vision of the American dream during the Great Depression. In 76 pages of realistic fiction, Steinbeck tackles social issues such as the treatment of disabled people and African Americans, as well the idea of loneliness. The novella follows George Milton and his friend Lennie Small, a mentally disabled man who depends on George to survive. The men dream of owning their own ranch, and they encounter characters at their new job who want a place on George and Lennie’s ranch, hoping it will help them attain their own aspirations. However, George and Lennie watch as their dreams crumble and they come to realize that the American dream is an unattainable reality.

When I first picked up this book I did not expect to enjoy it, but as I continued I found that the message was very interesting and meaningful. It was not written in the most interesting way, but Steinbeck nonetheless has a talent for language and brought life to the characters. While I found myself uninterested while reading the beginning, the ending of the novel brought tears to my eyes as I felt for the struggles of the characters, and could greatly understand their loneliness. Steinbeck develops his characters as workers during the Great Depression and he greatly connects their struggles to the unique struggles of Americans at this time in history, but he also is able to relate to the struggles that all people face and evoke feelings in the readers. While the story is focused on George and Lennie, Steinbeck also builds characters with heartbreaking backgrounds to address the inequalities that existed in multiple areas. For instance, he tells the story of an old man named Candy who lost his hand in an accident and fears for his future on the ranch. Candy hopes that George and Lennie will let him on their ranch so he can have some security. Another character, Crooks, is a black man who is isolated on the ranch because of his race. He also asks George and Lennie if he can hoe in the garden on their ranch, which shows that all the characters who have in some way been turned away by society now have the false hope that they will be free and accepted on George and Lennie’s imaginary ranch. The character I most related to was Curley’s wife, who appears many times throughout the story but is never given a name, and is only treated as a possession of her husband. She is demeaned by the men on the ranch and often flirts with the other men, but this is because she is lonely and wishes she had a better life. Overall, the story of the novella is not the most interesting, but the characters are ones who I could sink my teeth into and understand on a deep level.

I would rate this book a 4 out of 5, and recommend it for readers of all ages above the middle school level. The message has a profound impact that should be learned by all readers, and the novella is a classic that no one should miss.

More about the playlist:

Imagine - John Lennon Imagine by John Lennon reflects the plot of the novel because in the novel, the characters let themselves be carried away by their dreams and their hopes for the future, much like Lennon in this song. Their dreams are quite far fetched considering the harsh reality for some of the characters, like Lennie who is disabled, but that does not stop them from having hope. Billionaire - Travie McCoy This song is related to Of Mice and Men because McCoy and Bruno Mars are singing about how they want to be rich and famous, which is similar to the aspirations of some of the characters. While some of the characters simply want freedom, other characters have more material goals, like Curley’s wife who desires the glitz and glam of a Hollywood star’s life. Three Little Birds - Bob Marley Three Little Birds is a song about being positive even in the face of great struggle. George and Lennie have had a very difficult life, but George reassures Lennie that they will be okay and that one day they will have everything they want. Wouldn’t It Be Nice - Beach Boys This song emulates the American dream that George and Lennie so greatly hope for. George and Lennie are constantly filled with worry, particularly about their job status which is always being threatened because of Lennie. They hope that one day they will be free from these worries and able to live happily on their own. Come Away With Me - Norah Jones Come Away With Me represents Curley’s wife’s desire to be truly loved and respected in her relationship, considering how Curley treats her. She is looked down upon by all the men on the ranch, including her own husband, and deep down she wishes for a fairytale romance and life instead of the poor hand she was dealt. Money - Poppy This song is also a representation of Curley’s wife. Poppy sings about how she is obsessed with materialistic things like money, but throughout the song she changes her message, which is now saying that people should not associate money with happiness or think of attaining a fortune as a goal. Curley’s wife may seem materialistic, dreaming of her lost life as a Hollywood star, but in reality what she wants more than anything, love, is not materialistic at all. Brother, Can You Spare a Dime - Bing Crosby This song is particularly fitting for the novel because it was written during the Great Depression era. Crosby sings about how the Depression not only stole people's jobs, but stole their hopes, which is essentially what happens to George and Lennie. Overall, it reflects the hopelessness many Americans felt during the Depression, which is a central theme of Of Mice and Men. The River - Bruce Springsteen The River tells the story of a man who lost his job and struggles to support his family, while recalling how the man once had big hopes and dreams that were lost, leading him back to where he started. The storytelling in this song is very similar to that of Of Mice and Men, since George and Lennie are two ranch workers who are constantly losing their jobs, and who ultimately lose any chance of reaching their dreams. America - Neil Diamond America is a song about the American dream, which is extremely important in Of Mice and Men. The song tells about how many migrant workers left their homes and everything else behind in search of a better life, holding onto their version of the American dream to keep them going George and Lennie are very lonely have faced hardship on their journey, but they are able to continue for so long because they cling onto their dream of owning a ranch and being free. Pink Houses - John Mellencamp This song perfectly reflects the message of Of Mice and Men, since it drives the point that the American dream is unrealistic. Mellencamp talks about how he had unrealistic dreams when he was a child, like many children who believe they can be anything they like. As he grew up, he needed to let go of some of these dreams and focus on more realistic goals. George and Lennie’s dreams are fairly unrealistic, but instead of abandoning them, they chase them and chase them until they reach their own demise.

[allywrites360]

Treasure Planet Analysis

I recently watched this video talking about some of the visual storytelling evident in this movie, and thought I’d rewatch it a little more closely, and add some of my own thoughts!!

So firstly, there are two really prominent examples of this type of storytelling with Jim (who’s going to be the main subject of this post; he is the protagonist after all, huh?). The first is his wardrobe itself, starting out made of entirely dark colours, and the second being the shadow between his eyes which is animated at key points during the movie.

At the outset of Treasure Planet, the shadow is shown constantly, for the first fifteen minutes at least before the slightest change. This symbolizes the shadow of pain that was left when Jim’s father abandoned him (oh, and spoilers for the movie in this, obviously).

The first minor change in this shadow is the moment when Jim’s passion is ignited in something for the first time in a long time; the prospect of travelling to Treasure Planet, which Jim hopes will allow him to prove he’s worth something to his mother (a doubt that’s created by him entirely), and have a real shot at something other than resigning himself to a rebel. This spark of hope lightens the shadow for the end of that scene. This might also be a good time to mention that the shadow could be symbolic for self doubt as well. This one may be not as clear to see because of the difference in lighting, but you’ll notice if you rewatch the movie carefully.

Jim then opens up a bit, starting to let go of his past hurt as he warms up to Silver, him acting as the new father figure in Jim’s life. This is shown not through the shadow, as Jim still hasn’t fully let go of his past, or fully bonded with Silver at this time, but through the change of his clothes into a much lighter, more natural tone.

Directly following the above scene id the first time the shadow makes its’ disappearance from Jim’s face; the moment when Silver takes Jim with him on a boat ride, a parallel to the way Jim’s father left him behind. Silver, however, waits for Jim to jump in, and proceeds to bond with him by teaching him sailing (is it called sailing?).

The black coat and shadow return, however, as Jim’s guilt casts it upon him at being blamed for a crew member’s death after being accused of failing to properly fasten his line. The coat here serves to act as an emotional barrier that Jim has used since the outset of the movie as he’s moved to sit alone on the edge of the ship.

The shadow disappears later in this scene, however, as Silver encourages him, and eases his guilt. He tells Jim that he believes there is greatness in him, and hopes that one day he can “catch some of the light that’s comin’ off [Jim] that day.” the day in question being when Jim finally achieves the greatness Silver knows him to be capable of. This introduces the light and greatness motif, which continues throughout the rest of this film, showing they go hand in hand, and once Jim is able to finally step fully into the light, he’ll be able to be free of his past, and reach his full potential.

The coat remains, however, until the next morning, when, with some encouragement, he leaves it behind. This may seem just a little gag to show Jim with morph, and it could be, but it could also demonstrate that change isn't instant, depending on how deeply you want to read in to individual scenes.

The shadow comes back once again when Jim’s trust in Silver is broken, and when he’s hurt by the older man, in this scene, it’s in the form of his lamenting to his pirates that he never cared for Jim, and was merely trying to keep him off their backs. This brings back the feeling of betrayal Jim felt when his father left, as the man he cared for and trusted portrayed the fact Jim meant nothing to him. Again, brief scene, and this was the best shot I could get.

The coat notably does not make a reappearance after this scene, nor for the rest of the movie, showing that despite the hurt Jim experiences here, he has grown as a character, and is more confident in himself than he was at the start. This change remains, and is not undone, even by Silver’s selfish actions.

The shadow finally leaves a few moments later, when Jim is entrusted the map by the captain. This gives him purpose, and a goal, which allows him to move past his hurt and do what’s right, which he knows will ultimately help others. This also shows his character has grown, as he moves past his pain to take on the responsibility without hesitation.

The shadow’s returns for the remainder of the film are nearly exclusively when he is reunited with Silver, or at the very least related to him in some way. All of this ties back to the light motif I mentioned earlier, as when Jim is given encouragement by his friends (captain, doctor, Ben, etc.), he is able to step up confidently, and take on responsibilities, reaching more to his full potential. This is contrasted by Silver’s presence, the man destroying that self esteem and bringing feelings from Jim’s past up despite personal growth.

Later in the film when Jim leaves his hideout on Treasure Planet with Ben, he quite literally steps into the light to help the others (in this scene, namely to retrieve the map from the Legacy to stop Silver from reaching the treasure and harming his friends). This shows that Jim’s selfless nature will eventually be his greatest strength (and already prominently is), and will be the thing to lead him to ‘greatness’.

When the shadow is missing, in scenes such as this, Jim’s face also seems to be overall more relaxed; brow less furrowed as he lets go of the past, and stops the aspects of the shadow (such as self-doubt) that he had been casting himself.

Jim’s gun flying away during the fight scene on the ship is also symbolic of his growth; his freedom moving just beyond his grasp (as he’s dragged down by memories through Silver), but him finding a way to keep fighting and continue triumphing anyway (as shown through the inconsistent shadow).

Silver’s influence on Jim (at the moment negative, as it is directly tied to the visual element of the inclusion of the shadow), is shown vividly through the scene where Silver’s pirates restrain Jim and take the map to Treasure Planet. The shadow only appears when Jim glares at Silver, but lightens when he’s focusing on doing what’s right (fighting the pirates) rather than his hurt.

Jim assertively telling Silver that if he wants the map, he has to take him along also serves his character growth really well. He's standing firm in his own decisions, despite losing the approval of his father figure, finally becoming his own person outside of others’ expectations or notions of him, and making these decisions based on what’s right, rather than simply rebellion.

The light from the doorway to the treasure gently lightens the shadow, symbolizing Jim's belief that his pain will be dissipated by gaining the treasure, and that he will gain his mother’s pride (which was already present) as well. This is a falsehood that Silver must face as well, both accepting that the treasure was meaningless overall, and would not give them what they wanted.

This recognition is clear to the audience well before it is to the characters, which is achieved subconsciously through the scene where, while all of the pirates are gazing towards the treasure, Jim looks back at Ben and morph, his friends meaning more than the treasure he’d searched for.

The next piece of symbolism is my personal favourite from the film; Jim falling while they are with the treasure. He works to pull himself back up, but needs that final pull from someone who cares about him (Silver). This symbolizes Jim trying to move past his father’s abandonment, and step into the person he’s grown to become. But he can't do it on his own, to fully make the leap, he needs the support of a father like figure, who in this case, is Silver, choosing Jim’s life over the treasure.

The shadow, which was likely present throughout and after this scene (there were few clear frames of his face, but let’s assume it was) darkens again at Jim’s realization that Silver may leave him, which comes when the captain comments about him being put to trial. This brings up strongly his final moments with his father; this may not seem like much now, as it is a very brief scene, but it strengthens the conclusion of his time with Silver, which we’ll get to in a minute.

The shadow then disappears once and for all as Jim relies on his strengths, both internal (selflessness), and external (knowledge of mechanics), to build a solar surfer to allow him to save his friends and their ship from being destroyed. This shows him finally reaching that confidence in himself and his abilities that Jim has sought after his entire journey, and, as a result of this, he is not negatively influenced when he interacts with Silver in the form of the pirate helping him with the construction of the solar surfer. He has, at this point, nearly completed his arc, and moved past his insecurities.

Jim then falls again, in a similar way to the previous time near the treasure, however this time, he is able to keep a level head, and manages to save himself. This symbolizes more than anything his character growth, able to rely on himself to help others. He’s finally achieved that light and greatness Silver told him was inside all along. This ability to stop his fall, and confidence as a whole, is due in no small part to Silver helping him earlier in the film. He needed someone who believed in him to push him to become the fullest version of himself, and recognize the greatness he was capable of.

The solar surfer was introduced at the onset of the film, when we were reintroduced to Jim as a teenager. The source of rebellion at the start is now a means he uses to help others, and once he’s safely back on the ship, he lets it go. He’s no longer using it as a means of escapism; his friends now mean more than that did, and he literally lets his past go for them without regret, as his developed character no long has to rely on those methods of rebelling.

This time, when Jim sees Silver preparing to leave, he’s confident enough in himself, and the connection they shared to let him go without memories of the past tearing him down, and visually, without the shadow returning. He lets Silver go, because his self worth no longer lies on the approval of a mentor, but rather on who he is.

Silver also notably turns to wave to Jim as he sails off, for the first time making himself, and this event, entirely separate from his father in Jim’s mind, showing the contrast between the means of support in these figures.

The light and greatness motif comes back in their goodbye, when Silver tells Jim he’s “glowing like a solar fire.”, showing the growth he’s seen in Jim, and, unlike the first time he said something similar to this, Jim genuinely believes him. Not just in a temporary comfort naive way; Jim believe that Silver is speaking the truth, and that confidence pushes him to take a shot at a future he never believed he could have.

This motif makes one final appearance at the conclusion of the film, when he is shown wearing all white, yet another lighter change in his wardrobe in this film. This demonstrates his freedom from any burdens of the past as he finally accepts and learns to love who he truly is, and take daring shots to reach his potential, the one his mother had seen in him since ten beginning. His character  arc is now complete, and he can live happily ever after.

[daesungindistress]

not sure if you've been asked this before but do you think you will return to writing fic about bb and if so, would you include sr in your stories?

The last time I was asked this was back in March or April. And it’s difficult to give a final answer. I want to return to writing. The thought of abandoning all my WIPs and notes and ideas forever is a depressing one. And if I’m being honest, the longer I go without making something, be it art or fic, the emptier I feel.

Do I think I will? Return to writing? That I’m less certain about. The events of this year have left me feeling a bit disillusioned. Disenchanted. Disappointed. Yeah, they all kinda have the same meaning, but I guess I’m just trying to convey how this thing with Seungri, this tragedy, and the ongoing struggle within the fandom seems to have slowly stripped away my ability to separate BB’s public personas (and private selves) from the fictional versions we as writers play with. It’s broken down some necessary barriers.

The situation we’re in is too serious, too real, too heavy. And in my heart I feel there’s still too much uncertainty about their future. That uncertainty is steadily chipping away at the compartmentalization that let me comfortably turn them into characters and use them to tell stories. When I sit down and stare at all these notes from a happier, easier time I no longer see what I once did. I wonder, “Who wrote this? When? And how?” There’s some guilt too. Like, who am I to toy with them like this, to reduce them to fanfic fodder when so much has gone so wrong? Some fans have successfully escaped into fiction this year to forget; for me it’s the other way around. It’s been nine months but in a way the scandal is still front and center in my mind, and fanfic can’t overpower that. If anything, I’m almost… afraid to touch it again.

For example… the one fic I finished and posted this year, Sugar Kiss, was a smutty ToDae oneshot… and, regrettably, a sequel to a DaeRi fic. It was something I started late last year and had mostly completed by January, well before the scandal reached a boiling point. All the fic needed by then was a little polish, and it took me until July to find the energy for it. The teaser/summary was “It’s Daesung’s turn to be a bad influence” because in the fic before it he and Seungri had gotten up to some ~naughty fun~ together and Daesung decided he liked it enough to pass it on. So in Sugar Kiss Daesung shares what he learned from Seungri with Seunghyun. The joke was that Seungri persuaded him into mischief. Seunghyun even has a line in which he calls Seungri “a bad influence,” which one reader got really upset over, but I didn’t mean it in a bad way when I initially wrote it earlier this year. It was meant to be tongue-in-cheek. Just some silly, sexy, lighthearted fun, nothing more. I felt a little iffy posting it on the heels of Seungri’s scandal but in the end threw caution to the wind and went ahead with it.

Then, a few days later, the news about Daesung’s building broke and suddenly people were saying, “Daesung might be in on it!” and “He’s just like Seungri!” and “Daesung said they’d become close recently!” And I was like 😰 I had a few days to feel accomplished, after that it was pure regret. It’s like nothing is safe. Things I enjoyed before without thought or care… just aren’t that fun anymore. It’s really sucked the joy out of storytelling using real people. The thought lurks: what if some of the questionable stuff I write about them turns out to be, well, real? And then I have to either denounce or defend what I’ve written. People are still leaving kudos on that fic and its prequel, and every time I get the notification I wonder what they really think of it.

Anyway, to answer your other question: even though my view of Seungri has soured significantly since spring, my feelings on the matter of his involvement in my future fanfics, if any, have remained… largely the same. I think. The last time I talked about this I said I might continue to include him, but clarified that it would depend on the timeline (pre/post 2019) and setting (canon compliant, alternate universe). And also what role needs filling. Even after all we’ve learned about him, Seungri is still an interesting character to me with traits that I consider useful for the types of stories I like to tell. He’s a good foil for Daesung due to their opposing personalities, interests, lifestyles, values…. and for this reason I’ve always had a tendency to depict him as someone who brought conflict to the group in some form or another. His fans who found their way to my fanfics sometimes asked me to be kinder to him. Let’s just say now there will be no more pressure to pull my punches. That said, I expect any parts he does have will be small and fairly insignificant. A line or two, maybe even just a mention. My goal isn’t to pretend he never existed, just to avoid giving him undue attention that might, y’know… encourage people to like him.

…there is, however, one possible exception to that. Carnivores. Don’t think I’ve touched on this here yet? I had tentative plans to continue that series one day. Yes, even though I swore it was over. The story and setting is still meaningful to me and those characters feel more divorced from their inspirations, the Big Bang members, than any of my others. “They have lives of their own,” a reader once said to me, and I have to agree. You could change their names and I would still recognize them. I hoped it would be nothing too serious this time, nothing too intricate, just a oneshot catching up with the pack in their new home a year or two down the road. Here’s the problem though: Seungri was finally going to get something he’d always wanted. Something hinted at in the final scenes of Innocence & Instinct. And I wanted to scratch the surface of how they dealt with that.

Too bad 2019 has all but blown those plans to pieces. Carnivores!Seungri is not Big Bang’s Seungri or Lee Seunghyun, he is just a fictional character bearing his name and likeness, but even so, the absolute last thing I want to do right now is give him something he’s always wanted. No matter how I look at it, the thought of writing him into an important role comes off as really distasteful to me right now. So if that’s ever going to materialize, yeah, it’s gonna be awhile.

But wait. What if I give him something he’s always wanted… and then take it away. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? It came to me one day months ago, how I could work the events of this year into the series. Some parts of Carnivores do mirror real life events involving BB (such as Jiyong, Youngbae, Seunghyun, and Daesung confronting Seungri in Dreams Like Ashes over fears that he’s going to leave them for his newly formed group of human friends. Though I sort of glossed over it, this was based on things they were saying about him back in 2016, which was when that fic was written). So working his recent rise and fall into a future installment wouldn’t exactly be a new approach for this series. You could even say I’m a little intrigued by the idea.

Still, it’s too soon. Too fresh. And I don’t know how it ends, in this world or that one, or if I even have the creative energy to tackle something so… disruptive. Reality is hard enough. So until then, those plans will stay right where they’ve been all this time, boxed up in a dusty corner of my mind. I hope that one day I can reach back inside that box and share what I find with you all. Until then, I think what I need is a clearer sense of direction from BB… and more time to work up the courage to try.

[rosymorns]

i hate being a #gamer and sucking new vegas’ dick but it is genuinely SUCH a good game. but one of the reasons that it’s so good, i just realized, is that it’s... like, narratively fun? 

i think i’ve talked before about how much more concerned fallout 4 is with the horror of nuclear war. you start before the bombs drop and you watch it happen, and you step over the skeletons of your neighbors who were alive an hour ago for you as you leave the vault. bethesda is really good at environmental storytelling and a lot of the little stories you come across in abandoned buildings across the commonwealth really punch you in the gut and stoke a sense of horror and melancholy in you. but a problem with this emphasis is that they don’t let the world move beyond it. everything must still be in utter ruin. people must be hiding out in groups of, like, 50 people MAX, with a rusted water filter all that’s keeping them alive. if they move beyond that, if they let the world start to develop again, they lose some of the impact of the horror of nuclear war. you have to creep through the rubble of a city block to inon zur or billie holiday and see the devastation the old world wrought. 

but i guess the problem is that that’s not really a fun world to explore. 

i don’t like fallout 3, i think it’s a bad game and i’m not going to finish it, so i can’t really talk about it. but in fallout 4, at least, the player has to build the world around them. i enjoy that fiction, in a way! i like the thought of my sole survivor rebuilding the wasteland. it’s fun to think about. but not good for a game. part of the fun of RPGs is immersing yourself in the world and learning about the history, the culture, all that. the problem with the east coast is there is no history. there is no culture. nothing has happened. the bombs might as well have dropped yesterday for all the development the commonwealth has experienced since then. they’ve built a few shanty towns. “the US military 2: electric boogaloo” built a big fuck-off robot twice and a blimp. but theres no real civilization, yknow? no foundations, no investments. it’s like everyone could pick up and leave at any time. when you wander into a new area, you’re never wondering “i wonder who controls this area?” because no one does. generically named “raiders” with no goals or motives or even lore, who are there to spurt blood when you shoot them. 

in new vegas, the world has largely moved beyond the war. and it loses a lot of the melancholy that fo4 creates, i fully admit. i think as much about the great was playing new vegas as we, today, think about the fucking. war of 1812. because they’re about equally distant in time. but the world of new vegas is fun to play in, because all the balloons are already blown up. the world is built. the courier, rather than being the architect, is more like a player. and the game still fulfills the power fantasy of being extremely powerful -- you are still the influential piece that turns the tides of a the world. you have impact. but you don’t have to do it all. 

like. i dunno. i love the vegas aesthetic. i love that, on the strip, there are people walking around in fancy dresses, and there are slot machines in the casinos, and you can rent a room in a huge hotel that’s an actual room with a bed and a dresser and a kitchen. the two big military forces have uniforms and supply lines. theres an NCR embassy on the strip. there’s a bunch of little factions you can ally with or make enemies of, and they’ve got stories and motives. the world breathes around you, and if you took the courier out of the story, it would keep on breathing and changing. if you came back to the mojave in 2400, it would have changed even more. and i’m convinced the bastion of civilazation in the commonwealth would still be 50 people living in the hollowed out remnants of fenway park. 

[crqstalite]

A YEAR IN REVIEW: 2019.

Oh wow it’s two hours to midnight. I’m about to enter my fifteenth year of existence and second decade turn I’ve been alive to witness. Guess it’s time for my first annual year in review of fanfiction <3

WORD COUNT:

This year in total I wrote 150,065 words! Not even including the fanfictions I wrote for other fandoms throughout the year. This was all in a few months too. Damn, can’t wait to see where 2020 takes me if this is my writing prowess now.

The Breakdown:

Bloodlines took the cake at 71,593 words. Makes sense, I wrote that first and actually had it going a bit before I got the idea for Shadow of the Sith. It’s not obsolete just yet, but is currently on hiatus. Still one of my most written for projects. Means I’d been working on that since August. Startinglingly, the latest chapter was in October. That means that whole endeavor took two months to write 71.5k.

Shadow of the Sith is close behind at 47,995 words. With how I went from writing 2k word chapters to the latest being 7k words, it’s valid how the number jumps so much chapter-to-chapter. This one I’ve been working on since early November, and the most recent one was added today. That’s a month and some days worth of writing 48k words guys :0.

The Heritage prompts roll in at 15,657 words. I posted rather sporadically for this because most ended up being abandoned oneshots while I worked on Bloodlines and later, Shadow of the Sith. Still, it’s nothing to sneeze at and I’m rather proud of the work I put in.

The Made of Star Dust universe is at a haughty 11,777. Given this was written long before I’d even gotten the privelege to play Shadow of Revan, so some stuff is inaccurate but other than that a very ambitious project that I intend to pick up at some point. For now, it remains on hiatus.

The oneshots round us out at 3,043. This includes Hierarchy for the time being because it consists of a Khaak/Lana oneshot and that’s it. Not disappointed here, and I’m rather happy it even reached that. 

NEW THINGS I TRIED.

I tried Star Wars the Old Republic out again, and obviously I flourished here. The community is so kind and compassionate, not to mention inspiring. I tried out the Jedi Consular storyline, fell asleep halfway through, and then my Consular was the Barsen’thor.

Oh you mean writing wise.

I definitely extended my writing. My word counts shot up this year from 500 words in 2018 to 8k words just a week or so ago. I’ve improved my storytelling to include characters and personalities I’ve never encompassed before. Took my hand at writing more romance, and successfully.

I visited the TrollHunters fandom for a period of time and rather enjoyed it, I have one 8k fic going on it’s fourth month on hiatus on my AO3 page. I joined my first actual hate for a show and that materialized in Voltron: Legendary Defender.

I joined AO3. Didn’t find immediate success but I found some of my favorite authors there. My account is here: euphoria_starrs.

I joined tumblr for the first time. Had never experienced it before but now it’s my main media. Other than the problematic side of tumblr, I like the people here.

FAVORITE THING I WROTE THIS YEAR.

Definitely Shadow of the Sith. I accomplished so much with it already and it’s not even near done but people enjoy it, and it’s been one of the biggest succesful endeavors I’ve ever done. Thanks for taking time to read it guys <3

FAVORITE FIC I READ THIS YEAR.

*Takes a deep breath* Well here we go I guess.

@cavalier-life‘s Collateral Damages. It’s so artfully written, and for a ship I definitely didn’t think I’d grow to love as much as I do now. The characterization is beautiful, and the conflicts are real and believable. I adore Selirah with my whole heart, thank so much for writing it! Have definitely binged chapters repeatedly until the words are swimming on the page at two in the morning.

@cinlat‘s...whole library. Particularily Howl In the Night (I intend to get to reading Heart on a Trigger, just haven’t had the time yet) because of the untouched territory it delves into. I love the way you handled the story, and it’s truly heartbreaking at the end. Your oneshots are to die for as well. But Our Own pulled at my heartstrings. I’d lie if I didn’t say I was rooting for Nahir the whole time.

@melissagt‘s Not Afraid Anymore. I think I already commented on it but I’ll do it again. Yet another ship I didn’t think I’d sail but as I got deeper and deeper into Andronikos, Theron and Lelu’s relationship I just let the sail go. I love the story and how they get accustomed to each other and just how gritty it is. I definitely stayed up late at night to finish reading it.

@lumielles​‘s Guilt By Association, Outlander Day and Need a Minute. I haven’t had the time to read much more of Idan’s story, but Aramys and Theron break my heart with every oneshot and story of yours I read. I love it because it’s so tasteful, and absolutely bittersweet at the best of times. I look forward to learning more about this family :)

@greencrusader13​‘s All Were Innocent Once. I adore this story because it was one of the first ones I read in the fandom, and it was beautiful. Cirak and Tyar are such three-dimensional characters, and I can’t wait to learn more about the others present. 

Any others I found but for those who don’t have tumblr accounts can be found on my Fic Recs Page. Flirting With Desire (Sirius Ordo), and Someone To Fight For (Bamfbugboy) always tear at my heartstrings whenever I read them. If ya’ll like to cry, here they are.

WRITING GOALS FOR 2020.

1. Definitely finish Shadow of the Sith. Mellena and Theron’s story desperately needs to be told, and I will go down with this ship! There are a bunch of other characters worthy of their chapters in here as well, and I really want to write for Knights. Just have to get through Shadow of Revan and Ziost and we’re in the clear.

2. Start Shan. You guys are so infatuated with this post that I figure it deserves to be written. I was going to anyways, but goddamn ya’ll are still reposting it so I’ll see if I can do the plot justice. Currently, the PC is a sith inquisitor named Liv but that could change soon.

3. Finish Bloodlines? I’m not sure if anyone’s particularily enjoying it, but I started it so I’ll finish it. I think. Maybe.

4. Start love interest specific stories. I tend to meander into whole stories of a bunch of OCs and their love interests (see: Bloodlines/Shadow of the Sith), but in 2020 I think I’ll try to appeal to smaller fanbases with certain stories. I’m looking at writing a Mandalorian-centric Ba’shira/Torian fic, a slight rewrite of the Trooper story for Hakiojkl/Aric, a Sith-centric one for Lana/Khaak, a shorter one for a currently unnamed female Sith Warrior/Pierce, shorter one for a currently unnamed female Sith Inquisitor/Andronikos, short one for Bisauur/Zenith and a short one for Naji/Felix. Maybe one for Koth, but goddamn there isn’t a signal fic I can find on him.

5. Write Bad Girls Club. I don’t know why I made this a thing, but goddamn it’s a thing now and I love it. Kind of love the idea of some younger female bounty hunters running around the galaxy and causing chaos.

6. Possibly write a Theron/Outlander/Lana story. Why? I’m not sure but no one has done it yet and with the chemistry Theron and Lana have in-game already plus the chemistry they have as friends if you romance them can’t be easily passed up. Not high on my list of priorities, but it shall be done.

WORD OF THANKS.

My thanks goes out to this list of wonderful people:

@the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond​, @greencrusader13​, @oakstar519​, @a-muirehen​, @shabre-legacy​, @starstrucknerdbatkid​, @swtorpadawan​, @elaphaemourra​, @theherooftython​, @anchanted-one​, @sheyshen​, @roguescarlett​, @insufficient-focus​, Dragonheart on Discord, Sidhe Vicious and Necril on Discord!! You guys are so great for believing in little 14 year old me and taking a chance on roleplaying with me and reading my fics. You’re so appreciated <3

HAPPY NEW YEAR, AND GOOD LUCK ON YOUR NEW ENDEAVORS!