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rillabrooke · 2 years ago

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darnay heading to france: i’m going to get a good grade in [french subject], something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve,

tracking: pretty words, i’m crying, love, violence/hatred, duality, les mis parallels, foreshadowing

just "'Emigrant' . . . 'aristocrat'" borderline insults... he has two strikes against him.

"the town of Beauvais" dr. manette's hometown

"An ominous crowd gathered to see him dismount of the posting-yard, and many voices called out loudly, 'Down with the emigrant!' . . . 'You are a cursed emigrant,' cried a farrier, making at him in a furious manner through the press, hammer in hand; 'and you are a cursed aristocrat!' . . . 'condemned as a traitor'" i mean... good for them for having dr. manette's back, but 1) wrong guy and 2) twenty-five years too late.

"'His life is forfeit to the people. His cursed life is not his own!'" "the people will decide your fate, inspector javert" — enjolras in "javert at the barricade"

"'banishing all emigrants, and condemning all to death who return'" all the aristocrats who fled the country are unable to return to their land. it also means that all the people of france are trapped in france.

"'Other people have been similarly buried in worse prisons, before now.' 'But never by me, Citizen Defarge.'" mm if he only knew...

"The horrible massacre, days and nights long, which, within a few rounds of the clock, was to set a great mark of blood upon the blessed garnering time of harvest, was as far out of his knowledge as if it had been a hundred thousand years away. . . . The frightful deeds that were to be soon done, were probably unimagined at that time in the brains of the doers." incomprehensible violence.

"'For the love of Liberty;' which sounded in that place like an inappropriate conclusion." some good ol' situational irony.

"In the instinctive association of prisoners with shameful crime . . . graces and courtesies of life." the striking contrast of the expectations of the location vs. the reality of the people involved. how the turns have tabled, amiright?

"There were in the cell, a chair, a table, and a straw mattress." the same as dr. manette's cell. funny how one imprisonment caused the other!

"'He made shoes, he made shoes, he made shoes.'" the repetition is a desperate attempt to retain his sanity, just as dr. manette with shoemaking.

Book the Third—The Track of a Storm

[X] Chapter I. In Secret

The traveller fared slowly on his way, who fared towards Paris from England in the autumn of the year one thousand seven hundred and ninety-two. More than enough of bad roads, bad equipages, and bad horses, he would have encountered to delay him, though the fallen and unfortunate King of France had been upon his throne in all his glory; but, the changed times were fraught with other obstacles than these. Every town-gate and village taxing-house had its band of citizen-patriots, with their national muskets in a most explosive state of readiness, who stopped all comers and goers, cross-questioned them, inspected their papers, looked for their names in lists of their own, turned them back, or sent them on, or stopped them and laid them in hold, as their capricious judgment or fancy deemed best for the dawning Republic One and Indivisible, of Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, or Death.

A very few French leagues of his journey were accomplished, when Charles Darnay began to perceive that for him along these country roads there was no hope of return until he should have been declared a good citizen at Paris. Whatever might befall now, he must on to his journey’s end. Not a mean village closed upon him, not a common barrier dropped across the road behind him, but he knew it to be another iron door in the series that was barred between him and England. The universal watchfulness so encompassed him, that if he had been taken in a net, or were being forwarded to his destination in a cage, he could not have felt his freedom more completely gone.

This universal watchfulness not only stopped him on the highway twenty times in a stage, but retarded his progress twenty times in a day, by riding after him and taking him back, riding before him and stopping him by anticipation, riding with him and keeping him in charge. He had been days upon his journey in France alone, when he went to bed tired out, in a little town on the high road, still a long way from Paris.

Nothing but the production of the afflicted Gabelle’s letter from his prison of the Abbaye would have got him on so far. His difficulty at the guard-house in this small place had been such, that he felt his journey to have come to a crisis. And he was, therefore, as little surprised as a man could be, to find himself awakened at the small inn to which he had been remitted until morning, in the middle of the night.

Awakened by a timid local functionary and three armed patriots in rough red caps and with pipes in their mouths, who sat down on the bed.

“Emigrant,” said the functionary, “I am going to send you on to Paris, under an escort.”

“Citizen, I desire nothing more than to get to Paris, though I could dispense with the escort.”

“Silence!” growled a red-cap, striking at the coverlet with the butt-end of his musket. “Peace, aristocrat!”

“It is as the good patriot says,” observed the timid functionary. “You are an aristocrat, and must have an escort—and must pay for it.”

“I have no choice,” said Charles Darnay.

“Choice! Listen to him!” cried the same scowling red-cap. “As if it was not a favour to be protected from the lamp-iron!”

“It is always as the good patriot says,” observed the functionary. “Rise and dress yourself, emigrant.”

Darnay complied, and was taken back to the guard-house, where other patriots in rough red caps were smoking, drinking, and sleeping, by a watch-fire. Here he paid a heavy price for his escort, and hence he started with it on the wet, wet roads at three o’clock in the morning.

The escort were two mounted patriots in red caps and tri-coloured cockades, armed with national muskets and sabres, who rode one on either side of him.

The escorted governed his own horse, but a loose line was attached to his bridle, the end of which one of the patriots kept girded round his wrist. In this state they set forth with the sharp rain driving in their faces: clattering at a heavy dragoon trot over the uneven town pavement, and out upon the mire-deep roads. In this state they traversed without change, except of horses and pace, all the mire-deep leagues that lay between them and the capital.

They travelled in the night, halting an hour or two after daybreak, and lying by until the twilight fell. The escort were so wretchedly clothed, that they twisted straw round their bare legs, and thatched their ragged shoulders to keep the wet off. Apart from the personal discomfort of being so attended, and apart from such considerations of present danger as arose from one of the patriots being chronically drunk, and carrying his musket very recklessly, Charles Darnay did not allow the restraint that was laid upon him to awaken any serious fears in his breast; for, he reasoned with himself that it could have no reference to the merits of an individual case that was not yet stated, and of representations, confirmable by the prisoner in the Abbaye, that were not yet made.

But when they came to the town of Beauvais—which they did at eventide, when the streets were filled with people—he could not conceal from himself that the aspect of affairs was very alarming. An ominous crowd gathered to see him dismount of the posting-yard, and many voices called out loudly, “Down with the emigrant!”

He stopped in the act of swinging himself out of his saddle, and, resuming it as his safest place, said:

“Emigrant, my friends! Do you not see me here, in France, of my own will?”

“You are a cursed emigrant,” cried a farrier, making at him in a furious manner through the press, hammer in hand; “and you are a cursed aristocrat!”

The postmaster interposed himself between this man and the rider’s bridle (at which he was evidently making), and soothingly said, “Let him be; let him be! He will be judged at Paris.”

“Judged!” repeated the farrier, swinging his hammer. “Ay! and condemned as a traitor.” At this the crowd roared approval.

Checking the postmaster, who was for turning his horse’s head to the yard (the drunken patriot sat composedly in his saddle looking on, with the line round his wrist), Darnay said, as soon as he could make his voice heard:

“Friends, you deceive yourselves, or you are deceived. I am not a traitor.”

“He lies!” cried the smith. “He is a traitor since the decree. His life is forfeit to the people. His cursed life is not his own!”

At the instant when Darnay saw a rush in the eyes of the crowd, which another instant would have brought upon him, the postmaster turned his horse into the yard, the escort rode in close upon his horse’s flanks, and the postmaster shut and barred the crazy double gates. The farrier struck a blow upon them with his hammer, and the crowd groaned; but, no more was done.

“What is this decree that the smith spoke of?” Darnay asked the postmaster, when he had thanked him, and stood beside him in the yard.

“Truly, a decree for selling the property of emigrants.”

“When passed?”

“On the fourteenth.”

“The day I left England!”

“Everybody says it is but one of several, and that there will be others—if there are not already—banishing all emigrants, and condemning all to death who return. That is what he meant when he said your life was not your own.”

“But there are no such decrees yet?”

“What do I know!” said the postmaster, shrugging his shoulders; “there may be, or there will be. It is all the same. What would you have?”

They rested on some straw in a loft until the middle of the night, and then rode forward again when all the town was asleep. Among the many wild changes observable on familiar things which made this wild ride unreal, not the least was the seeming rarity of sleep. After long and lonely spurring over dreary roads, they would come to a cluster of poor cottages, not steeped in darkness, but all glittering with lights, and would find the people, in a ghostly manner in the dead of the night, circling hand in hand round a shrivelled tree of Liberty, or all drawn up together singing a Liberty song. Happily, however, there was sleep in Beauvais that night to help them out of it and they passed on once more into solitude and loneliness: jingling through the untimely cold and wet, among impoverished fields that had yielded no fruits of the earth that year, diversified by the blackened remains of burnt houses, and by the sudden emergence from ambuscade, and sharp reining up across their way, of patriot patrols on the watch on all the roads.

Daylight at last found them before the wall of Paris. The barrier was closed and strongly guarded when they rode up to it.

“Where are the papers of this prisoner?” demanded a resolute-looking man in authority, who was summoned out by the guard.

Naturally struck by the disagreeable word, Charles Darnay requested the speaker to take notice that he was a free traveller and French citizen, in charge of an escort which the disturbed state of the country had imposed upon him, and which he had paid for.

“Where,” repeated the same personage, without taking any heed of him whatever, “are the papers of this prisoner?”

The drunken patriot had them in his cap, and produced them. Casting his eyes over Gabelle’s letter, the same personage in authority showed some disorder and surprise, and looked at Darnay with a close attention.

He left escort and escorted without saying a word, however, and went into the guard-room; meanwhile, they sat upon their horses outside the gate. Looking about him while in this state of suspense, Charles Darnay observed that the gate was held by a mixed guard of soldiers and patriots, the latter far outnumbering the former; and that while ingress into the city for peasants’ carts bringing in supplies, and for similar traffic and traffickers, was easy enough, egress, even for the homeliest people, was very difficult. A numerous medley of men and women, not to mention beasts and vehicles of various sorts, was waiting to issue forth; but, the previous identification was so strict, that they filtered through the barrier very slowly. Some of these people knew their turn for examination to be so far off, that they lay down on the ground to sleep or smoke, while others talked together, or loitered about. The red cap and tri-colour cockade were universal, both among men and women.

When he had sat in his saddle some half-hour, taking note of these things, Darnay found himself confronted by the same man in authority, who directed the guard to open the barrier. Then he delivered to the escort, drunk and sober, a receipt for the escorted, and requested him to dismount. He did so, and the two patriots, leading his tired horse, turned and rode away without entering the city.

He accompanied his conductor into a guard-room, smelling of common wine and tobacco, where certain soldiers and patriots, asleep and awake, drunk and sober, and in various neutral states between sleeping and waking, drunkenness and sobriety, were standing and lying about. The light in the guard-house, half derived from the waning oil-lamps of the night, and half from the overcast day, was in a correspondingly uncertain condition. Some registers were lying open on a desk, and an officer of a coarse, dark aspect, presided over these.

“Citizen Defarge,” said he to Darnay’s conductor, as he took a slip of paper to write on. “Is this the emigrant Evrémonde?”

“This is the man.”

“Your age, Evrémonde?”

“Thirty-seven.”

“Married, Evrémonde?”

“Yes.”

“Where married?”

“In England.”

“Without doubt. Where is your wife, Evrémonde?”

“In England.”

“Without doubt. You are consigned, Evrémonde, to the prison of La Force.”

“Just Heaven!” exclaimed Darnay. “Under what law, and for what offence?”

The officer looked up from his slip of paper for a moment.

“We have new laws, Evrémonde, and new offences, since you were here.” He said it with a hard smile, and went on writing.

“I entreat you to observe that I have come here voluntarily, in response to that written appeal of a fellow-countryman which lies before you. I demand no more than the opportunity to do so without delay. Is not that my right?”

“Emigrants have no rights, Evrémonde,” was the stolid reply. The officer wrote until he had finished, read over to himself what he had written, sanded it, and handed it to Defarge, with the words “In secret.”

Defarge motioned with the paper to the prisoner that he must accompany him. The prisoner obeyed, and a guard of two armed patriots attended them.

“Is it you,” said Defarge, in a low voice, as they went down the guardhouse steps and turned into Paris, “who married the daughter of Doctor Manette, once a prisoner in the Bastille that is no more?”

“Yes,” replied Darnay, looking at him with surprise.

“My name is Defarge, and I keep a wine-shop in the Quarter Saint Antoine. Possibly you have heard of me.”

“My wife came to your house to reclaim her father? Yes!”

The word “wife” seemed to serve as a gloomy reminder to Defarge, to say with sudden impatience, “In the name of that sharp female newly-born, and called La Guillotine, why did you come to France?”

“You heard me say why, a minute ago. Do you not believe it is the truth?”

“A bad truth for you,” said Defarge, speaking with knitted brows, and looking straight before him.

“Indeed I am lost here. All here is so unprecedented, so changed, so sudden and unfair, that I am absolutely lost. Will you render me a little help?”

“None.” Defarge spoke, always looking straight before him.

“Will you answer me a single question?”

“Perhaps. According to its nature. You can say what it is.”

“In this prison that I am going to so unjustly, shall I have some free communication with the world outside?”

“You will see.”

“I am not to be buried there, prejudged, and without any means of presenting my case?”

“You will see. But, what then? Other people have been similarly buried in worse prisons, before now.”

“But never by me, Citizen Defarge.”

Defarge glanced darkly at him for answer, and walked on in a steady and set silence. The deeper he sank into this silence, the fainter hope there was—or so Darnay thought—of his softening in any slight degree. He, therefore, made haste to say:

“It is of the utmost importance to me (you know, Citizen, even better than I, of how much importance), that I should be able to communicate to Mr. Lorry of Tellson’s Bank, an English gentleman who is now in Paris, the simple fact, without comment, that I have been thrown into the prison of La Force. Will you cause that to be done for me?”

“I will do,” Defarge doggedly rejoined, “nothing for you. My duty is to my country and the People. I am the sworn servant of both, against you. I will do nothing for you.”

Charles Darnay felt it hopeless to entreat him further, and his pride was touched besides. As they walked on in silence, he could not but see how used the people were to the spectacle of prisoners passing along the streets. The very children scarcely noticed him. A few passers turned their heads, and a few shook their fingers at him as an aristocrat; otherwise, that a man in good clothes should be going to prison, was no more remarkable than that a labourer in working clothes should be going to work. In one narrow, dark, and dirty street through which they passed, an excited orator, mounted on a stool, was addressing an excited audience on the crimes against the people, of the king and the royal family. The few words that he caught from this man’s lips, first made it known to Charles Darnay that the king was in prison, and that the foreign ambassadors had one and all left Paris. On the road (except at Beauvais) he had heard absolutely nothing. The escort and the universal watchfulness had completely isolated him.

That he had fallen among far greater dangers than those which had developed themselves when he left England, he of course knew now. That perils had thickened about him fast, and might thicken faster and faster yet, he of course knew now. He could not but admit to himself that he might not have made this journey, if he could have foreseen the events of a few days. And yet his misgivings were not so dark as, imagined by the light of this later time, they would appear. Troubled as the future was, it was the unknown future, and in its obscurity there was ignorant hope. The horrible massacre, days and nights long, which, within a few rounds of the clock, was to set a great mark of blood upon the blessed garnering time of harvest, was as far out of his knowledge as if it had been a hundred thousand years away. The “sharp female newly-born, and called La Guillotine,” was hardly known to him, or to the generality of people, by name. The frightful deeds that were to be soon done, were probably unimagined at that time in the brains of the doers. How could they have a place in the shadowy conceptions of a gentle mind?

Of unjust treatment in detention and hardship, and in cruel separation from his wife and child, he foreshadowed the likelihood, or the certainty; but, beyond this, he dreaded nothing distinctly. With this on his mind, which was enough to carry into a dreary prison courtyard, he arrived at the prison of La Force.

A man with a bloated face opened the strong wicket, to whom Defarge presented “The Emigrant Evrémonde.”

“What the Devil! How many more of them!” exclaimed the man with the bloated face.

Defarge took his receipt without noticing the exclamation, and withdrew, with his two fellow-patriots.

“What the Devil, I say again!” exclaimed the gaoler, left with his wife. “How many more!”

The gaoler’s wife, being provided with no answer to the question, merely replied, “One must have patience, my dear!” Three turnkeys who entered responsive to a bell she rang, echoed the sentiment, and one added, “For the love of Liberty;” which sounded in that place like an inappropriate conclusion.

The prison of La Force was a gloomy prison, dark and filthy, and with a horrible smell of foul sleep in it. Extraordinary how soon the noisome flavour of imprisoned sleep, becomes manifest in all such places that are ill cared for!

“In secret, too,” grumbled the gaoler, looking at the written paper. “As if I was not already full to bursting!”

He stuck the paper on a file, in an ill-humour, and Charles Darnay awaited his further pleasure for half an hour: sometimes, pacing to and fro in the strong arched room: sometimes, resting on a stone seat: in either case detained to be imprinted on the memory of the chief and his subordinates.

“Come!” said the chief, at length taking up his keys, “come with me, emigrant.”

Through the dismal prison twilight, his new charge accompanied him by corridor and staircase, many doors clanging and locking behind them, until they came into a large, low, vaulted chamber, crowded with prisoners of both sexes. The women were seated at a long table, reading and writing, knitting, sewing, and embroidering; the men were for the most part standing behind their chairs, or lingering up and down the room.

In the instinctive association of prisoners with shameful crime and disgrace, the new-comer recoiled from this company. But the crowning unreality of his long unreal ride, was, their all at once rising to receive him, with every refinement of manner known to the time, and with all the engaging graces and courtesies of life.

So strangely clouded were these refinements by the prison manners and gloom, so spectral did they become in the inappropriate squalor and misery through which they were seen, that Charles Darnay seemed to stand in a company of the dead. Ghosts all! The ghost of beauty, the ghost of stateliness, the ghost of elegance, the ghost of pride, the ghost of frivolity, the ghost of wit, the ghost of youth, the ghost of age, all waiting their dismissal from the desolate shore, all turning on him eyes that were changed by the death they had died in coming there.

It struck him motionless. The gaoler standing at his side, and the other gaolers moving about, who would have been well enough as to appearance in the ordinary exercise of their functions, looked so extravagantly coarse contrasted with sorrowing mothers and blooming daughters who were there—with the apparitions of the coquette, the young beauty, and the mature woman delicately bred—that the inversion of all experience and likelihood which the scene of shadows presented, was heightened to its utmost. Surely, ghosts all. Surely, the long unreal ride some progress of disease that had brought him to these gloomy shades!

“In the name of the assembled companions in misfortune,” said a gentleman of courtly appearance and address, coming forward, “I have the honour of giving you welcome to La Force, and of condoling with you on the calamity that has brought you among us. May it soon terminate happily! It would be an impertinence elsewhere, but it is not so here, to ask your name and condition?”

Charles Darnay roused himself, and gave the required information, in words as suitable as he could find.

“But I hope,” said the gentleman, following the chief gaoler with his eyes, who moved across the room, “that you are not in secret?”

“I do not understand the meaning of the term, but I have heard them say so.”

“Ah, what a pity! We so much regret it! But take courage; several members of our society have been in secret, at first, and it has lasted but a short time.” Then he added, raising his voice, “I grieve to inform the society—in secret.”

There was a murmur of commiseration as Charles Darnay crossed the room to a grated door where the gaoler awaited him, and many voices—among which, the soft and compassionate voices of women were conspicuous—gave him good wishes and encouragement. He turned at the grated door, to render the thanks of his heart; it closed under the gaoler’s hand; and the apparitions vanished from his sight forever.

The wicket opened on a stone staircase, leading upward. When they had ascended forty steps (the prisoner of half an hour already counted them), the gaoler opened a low black door, and they passed into a solitary cell. It struck cold and damp, but was not dark.

“Yours,” said the gaoler.

“Why am I confined alone?”

“How do I know!”

“I can buy pen, ink, and paper?”

“Such are not my orders. You will be visited, and can ask then. At present, you may buy your food, and nothing more.”

There were in the cell, a chair, a table, and a straw mattress. As the gaoler made a general inspection of these objects, and of the four walls, before going out, a wandering fancy wandered through the mind of the prisoner leaning against the wall opposite to him, that this gaoler was so unwholesomely bloated, both in face and person, as to look like a man who had been drowned and filled with water. When the gaoler was gone, he thought in the same wandering way, “Now am I left, as if I were dead.” Stopping then, to look down at the mattress, he turned from it with a sick feeling, and thought, “And here in these crawling creatures is the first condition of the body after death.”

“Five paces by four and a half, five paces by four and a half, five paces by four and a half.” The prisoner walked to and fro in his cell, counting its measurement, and the roar of the city arose like muffled drums with a wild swell of voices added to them. “He made shoes, he made shoes, he made shoes.” The prisoner counted the measurement again, and paced faster, to draw his mind with him from that latter repetition. “The ghosts that vanished when the wicket closed. There was one among them, the appearance of a lady dressed in black, who was leaning in the embrasure of a window, and she had a light shining upon her golden hair, and she looked like * * * * Let us ride on again, for God’s sake, through the illuminated villages with the people all awake! * * * * He made shoes, he made shoes, he made shoes. * * * * Five paces by four and a half.” With such scraps tossing and rolling upward from the depths of his mind, the prisoner walked faster and faster, obstinately counting and counting; and the roar of the city changed to this extent—that it still rolled in like muffled drums, but with the wail of voices that he knew, in the swell that rose above them.

#a tale of two cities #atotc weekly #atotc annotated

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lesbianwyllravengard · 2 years ago

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OKAY so I finally did my own run of the Hunger Games simulator. I’m just gonna put all of them in one post but under the Keep Reading so I don’t take up anyone’s dashboard. Not because I’m nice or anything but because I’m too lazy to keep reblogging my own post. Anyways. @itsybitsybatsyspider and @detroitbecomeonline this is for you nerds

My cast is: DISTRICT 1: Connor, Nines. DISTRICT 2: Gavin, Hank. DISTRICT 3: Kara, Alice. DISTRICT 4: North, Simon. DISTRICT 5: Chloe, Kamski. DISTRICT 6: Markus, Leo. DISTRICT 7: Josh, Echo. DISTRICT 8: Luther, Zlatko. DISTRICT 9: Sixty, Tina. DISTRICT 10: Shaolin, Fowler. DISTRICT 11: Rose, Ralph. DISTRICT 12: Jerry, Amanda.

None of the districts or characters are determined on any actual canon I just put them in randomly lol

As the tributes stand on their podiums, the horn sounds.

North scares Gavin away from the cornucopia. (yeah)

Zlatko runs into the cornucopia and hides.

Amanda grabs a backpack and retreats.

Leo takes a spear from inside the cornucopia.

Fowler sets an explosive off, killing Ralph. (NAUR)

Connor snatches a bottle of alcohol and a rag.

Luther scares Markus away from the cornucopia. (lmfao real)

Hank runs away from the Cornucopia.

Kara grabs a shield leaning on the cornucopia.

Alice runs away from the Cornucopia.

Echo runs away from the Cornucopia.

Josh gathers as much food as he can.

Chloe runs away from the Cornucopia.

Simon scares Jerry away from the cornucopia.

Kamski finds a canteen full of water.

Tina kills Sixty with a hatchet. (NOOO SIXTY😭)

Rose runs away from the Cornucopia.

Nines breaks Shaolin's nose for a basket of bread. (dear lord that bread basket amiright)

North constructs a shack.

Zlatko makes a slingshot.

Markus begs for Kamski to kill him. He refuses, keeping Markus alive. (oh thank fuck. Makes sense though I mean Kamski’s not gonna want to kill his creation. I think.)

Leo and Echo work together for the day.

Josh camouflauges himself in the bushes.

Connor practices his archery.

Nines questions his sanity.

Simon overhears Fowler and Gavin talking in the distance. (They’re discussing Gavin’s bad behaviour in the workplace)

Kara chases Tina. (Get her girl)

Hank steals from Chloe while she isn't looking. (HANK YOU BITCH)

Shaolin receives medical supplies from an unknown sponsor.

Amanda hunts for other tributes.

Rose receives clean water from an unknown sponsor.

Jerry begs for Luther to kill him. He refuses, keeping Jerry alive. (aw)

Alice receives an explosive from an unknown sponsor. (who giving a 9yo an explosive🤨)

2 cannon shots can be heard in the distance.

Ralph, District 11. Sixty, District 9. So sad.

Kara and Markus sleep in shifts. (FUCK YES MY TWO FAVES)

Zlatko, Shaolin, and Rose get into a fight. Zlatko triumphantly kills them both. (NOOO)

Gavin goes to sleep. (for once)

Leo tries to sing himself to sleep.

Hank stabs Tina in the back with a trident. (Hank is so mean in this)

Chloe, Connor, Echo, and Alice sleep in shifts.

North, Jerry, and Kamski sleep in shifts.

Amanda and Nines huddle for warmth. (Nines would be mom’s favourite)

Luther climbs a tree to rest.

Simon receives an explosive from an unknown sponsor.

Fowler attempts to start a fire, but is unsuccessful.

Josh receives fresh food from an unknown sponsor.

Kamski chases Chloe. (HELPSFJGDH)

Kara is pricked by thorns while picking berries.

Gavin tends to Josh's wounds. (???? OKAY)

Fowler steals from Nines while he isn't looking.

Simon thinks about home.

Zlatko sprains his ankle while running away from Leo.

Amanda kills Markus with a hatchet. (NOOOOOOO she would tho)

North and Echo hunt for other tributes. (Oh my God. Holy fuck. Oh my. Ima need to sit down a moment. Holy shit. Oh my God. Not to be a lesbian but oh my fucking god. oh my god. jesus fucking christ. Imagine these two hunting you down. Nah I’d roll over and let them have at me. Holy fucking shit.)

Jerry tries to spear fish with a trident.

Alice and Luther fight Hank and Connor. Alice and Luther survive. (SO DID THEY KILL HANK AND CONNOR??? LMAO)

6 cannon shots can be heard in the distance.

Shaolin, District 10. Rose, District 11. Tina, District 9. Markus, District 6 (crying). Hank, District 2. Connor, District 1 (I hope Alice killed him).

Zlatko begs for Nines to kill him. He refuses, keeping Zlatko alive. (Damnit, Nines)

Leo cries himself to sleep.

Chloe, Josh, Echo, and Jerry tell each other ghost stories to lighten the mood.

Amanda decapitates North with a sword. (OH MY GOD NOOOOOO NORTH MY BELOVEEDD she’d wanna get killed by a sword tho tbh)

Kara lets Kamski into her shelter. (Kara baby nooo)

Fowler tries to sing himself to sleep.

Simon, Luther, and Alice get into a fight. Simon triumphantly kills them both. (SIMON WHY)

Gavin sees a fire, but stays hidden. (coward bitch)

Gavin steals from Zlatko while he isn't looking.

Chloe collects fruit from a tree.

Jerry tends to Echo's wounds. (he would)

Fowler, Amanda, Kara, and Nines raid Leo's camp while he is hunting. (LMFAOOO)

Josh receives medical supplies from an unknown sponsor.

Simon and Kamski hunt for other tributes.

3 cannon shots can be heard in the distance.

North, District 4 (screaming crying sobbing throwing up). Luther, District 8. Alice, District 3. This is the worst.

Kamski receives medical supplies from an unknown sponsor.

Kara bashes Leo's head against a rock several times. (OMFG SDGHJSHDAH SHE WOULD)

Jerry, Fowler, Simon, and Nines sleep in shifts. (Everyone who teams with Simon is in danger)

Echo thinks about winning.

Josh sees a fire, but stays hidden.

Zlatko lets Amanda into his shelter.

Gavin cooks his food before putting his fire out.

Chloe sees a fire, but stays hidden.

Gavin makes a slingshot.

Chloe diverts Josh's attention and runs away.

Amanda injures herself.

Kamski goes hunting.

Fowler, Echo, and Nines hunt for other tributes.

Simon sprains his ankle while running away from Kara. (ar naur)

Jerry is pricked by thorns while picking berries.

Zlatko tries to sleep through the entire day.

1 cannon shot can be heard in the distance.

Leo, District 6.

Zlatko cooks his food before putting his fire out.

Kara, Josh, Simon, and Fowler sleep in shifts.

Jerry shoots an arrow into Amanda's head. (JERRY OH MY GOD???)

Echo sets Chloe on fire with a molotov. (NO ECHO HOW COULD YOU)

Nines begs for Kamski to kill him. He refuses, keeping Nines alive.

Gavin is unable to start a fire and sleeps without warmth. (lmfao bitch)

Kara, Josh, and Nines hunt for other tributes. (Now there’s KARA HUNTING??? Holy fucking shit. not to be a lesbian bu)

Kamski tries to spear fish with a trident.

Jerry attacks Fowler, but he manages to escape.

Gavin discovers a river.

Zlatko poisons Simon's drink. He drinks it and dies. (NOOOO)

Echo dies from thirst. (That is so sad)

4 cannon shots can be heard in the distance.

Amanda, District 12. Chloe, District 5. Simon, District 4. Echo, District 7.

Kamski questions his sanity.

Fowler screams for help.

Nines receives medical supplies from an unknown sponsor.

Kara stays awake all night.

Gavin and Jerry talk about the tributes still alive.

Josh passes out from exhaustion. (pfft)

Zlatko cooks his food before putting his fire out.

The cornucopia is replenished with food, supplies, weapons, and memoirs from the tributes' families.

Kamski sets an explosive off, killing Kara, Jerry, and Nines. (NO NO NO NO KARA MY FAVOURITE MY MOST DEARLY BELOVED I WAS ROOTING FOR YOU😭😭😭)

Zlatko decides not to go to The Feast.

Josh bashes Gavin's head against a rock several times. (HAHSFHSJDHG FUCK YES)

Fowler cannot handle the circumstances and commits suicide. (NAUURR)

Zlatko and Kamski work together for the day.

Josh travels to higher ground. (“I have the high ground!”)

The remaining tributes begin to hallucinate.

Zlatko survives.

Kamski survives.

Josh survives.

5 cannon shots can be heard in the distance.

Kara, District 3 (😭😭😭). Jerry, District 12. Nines, District 1. Gavin, District 2. Fowler, District 10

Kamski looks at the night sky.

Zlatko and Josh run into each other and decide to truce for the night.

Zlatko stalks Kamski.

Josh cannot handle the circumstances and commits suicide. (NO NOT JOSH)

1 cannon shot can be heard in the distance.

Josh, District 7.

Kamski severely injures Zlatko and leaves him to die. (OH MY GOD WAIT-)

The winner is Kamski from District 5! (helpdfjgkdjh)

Not what I was expecting lmao. This is literally just the Kamski ending.

#dbh #hunger games #dbh memes #helpsfhgjhdf

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bizarrescribblez · 2 years ago

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SPOTTY DOTTY... SHUT UP THAT'S SO CUTE 😭😭😭😭😭 I love u and spot so much I want to third wheel with u guys so bad. Can I be his sidekick or something. Will you guys adopt me.

MJ PLEASE😭😭😭😭😭😭 YOURE THE SWEETEST I LITERALLY was reminded of Spotty Dotty from Sanrio and was like… Omg that’s such a good nickname for Jonathan cuz I imagine he likes to call me silly stuff too like “jelly bean/gummy bear” cuz of my spider name 😭😭💕 ALSO OMG . OFC WE WILL BRING IT IN. He could use a sidekick (and also for my sanity cuz I worry for him sometimes) 😭 also I love this sm cuz this reminds me of a clip they posted of Gwen asking Jessica Drew/Spider-Woman if she can adopt her and Jessica is like “what” $:?/&/ Across the Spiderverse more like Adopt the Spiderverse amiright???

#📫 ask box!#MJ YOUARETHE BESTEST EVER ILY TYSM FOR BEING THE BIGGEST MIASPOT AMBASSADOR #if nobody got me I know Lola and MJ and da moots got me!!!!!#also MJ.. blinks if you want the movie pls tell me I’m seeing it opening night/afternoon and if you get sona thoughts..#INNEED TO KNOW

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escxpedes · 5 years ago

Text

loopholes (fin.)

Remember when I said I’d post this like two days after the last part? No? Me neither... Sorry about the delay, I’ve had a severe lack of motivation. (It’s mental illness innit.) I feel like every part of this story gets longer and longer, and makes even less sense. If you haven’t read the other two parts, I recommend you do so. These technically can be read standalone, but I think it’s cuter when you read them knowing the context. Even though, again, they seem to make less sense the more I write. Lots of new information came about season 5, and it’s both nerve-racking and exciting at the same time! Three cheers for anxiety, amiright? Hope you all are doing well, I’m excited to hear the feedback on the last part of this series. Let me know if there’s anything you’d like me to write, I’m a sucker for prompts! x

part one | part two

loop·hole

noun | A loophole is an ambiguity or inadequacy in a system, such as a law or security, which can be used to circumvent or otherwise avoid the purpose, implied or explicitly stated, of the system.

hands that wrap around my wrists, (and arms that feel like home.)

Shutting down the monitors she was using, Riley tries not to think about how her sleep deprivation affects her body. It’s one thing to work as a distraction, but the drag in her pace tells her this coping method is wearing her down.

How is she supposed to save innocent lives when she’s so exhausted.

And she is, exhausted, that is. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. Every part of her is weightless, suspended in air, and it feels like she can’t do a single thing about it.

An irritating helplessness encompasses her, tightening its grasp on her sanity.

She wants to cry out, throw something, cause a scene. Instead, she buries her feelings deep in her subconscious and tries not to focus on how tight her chest is.

It’s an occupational hazard, she tells herself. It’s nothing she can’t handle, she repeats daily. It’s almost a mantra by now, echoing inside her head and ramping up what seems to be an infinite supply of determination.

It’s the only way.

Mac waits for her outside, leaning against the building while she locks up. Her vision is still kind of fuzzy due to lack of energy, and her body doesn’t seem to be completely awake yet. She can physically feel Mac’s concerned gaze burning a hole in her cranium as if staring hard enough will give him access to all recesses of her mind.

“Ready?”

She nods, feigning a smile, and bumping his shoulder with her own, “You never mentioned why you stopped by so late.”

Ignorance is bliss, right?

“I left my phone in the labs.” She can hear the exasperation in his voice; concern rushes forward and sends a pang through her heart.

Suddenly, she’s irritated too, not with Mac, but for Mac. He does the right thing for humanity despite all that humanity has done to him. She can’t imagine how frustrated he must be with the entire situation, once again putting the world before himself.

He’s had so little time to process everything.

She knows he could use a break but also knows that he won’t admit he needs one.

For how smart he is, he can be really stupid sometimes.

When she turns her head to look at him, she can tell she’s lost him to his own thoughts. His eyebrows are furrowed, his usually clear eyes unfocused, and his mouth is set in a grim line.

If she listens closely, she can almost hear the gears turning, working out possible solutions, and thinking through every outcome.

It’s not an uncommon expression.

She stops abruptly, “Hey.”

This seems to shake him from his trance, his eyes meeting hers in a questioning manner.

“You are doing the best you can under the circumstances, but pushing yourself too hard won’t solve anything,” Her hand finds its way to his arm and squeezes reassuringly, “You can take care of the planet, but make sure to take care of yourself, too.”

The look he gives her is so full of gratitude and affection that nearly every emotion that Riley’s fought to contain bursts through its confinement and surges through her body.

“Thank you.”

Her breath catches in her throat, making it hard to breathe.

“What for?”

She really hopes the shaky breath that follows goes unnoticed.

“For always believing in me, no matter what.” His gaze is piercing, robbing the ability to form words from her throat.

She rakes her mind for something, anything, to say that will stop her from doing something she would totally, one hundred percent regret.

“It’s what Jack would do.”

It takes everything in her to break eye contact and shrug nonchalantly. Humor laces her tone, despite the sincerity of her statement. It is something Jack would do, something he taught her to believe in. Not necessarily in Mac, but what her gut is telling her.

It seems that in any given situation, before or after Jack’s departure, Mac’s intuition has always mirrored her own. Since the second he broke her out of prison, they always had the same values. Just like Jack, she learned how to read and understand Mac.

She knows how to interpret his rambling. She knows that no matter the situation, he’ll always put everyone else first. She knows that whatever crazy plan he’s come up with, it’s constructed with the best intentions.

She knows that no matter where he goes, and no matter what he does, her instinct is to trust him.

So she does.

With every ounce of her being.

She desperately wants to share this with him, especially if it would probably make him feel better. However, she knows the second she starts talking, she won’t be able to stop. Mac’s got a way of doing that, translating her thoughts into words that tumble out of her before she can control what they might mean.

The grin Mac throws her, which conveys understanding and amusement, allows the tension between them to dissipate.

“Speaking of Jack, he would absolutely kill me if I let you drive home in your state.”

Before she can get a word in edgewise, he’s already opening the passenger side door of his truck. The tone in his voice leaves little room for debate, as if he’s ready to refute whatever argument she can muster up, so Riley doesn’t argue.

She wants to, but just the idea of operating a car sounds exhausting.

Besides, she’s missed this. She’s missed Mac, not just as someone she’s possibly in love with, but as her best friend. With everything going on, she’s hardly been able to see him.

The absence of him in her life hurts just as much as having him in it.

She literally can’t win.

The silence that follows is comfortable, the rumbling engine serving as white noise to Riley as she dozes off against the window.

She tries to, anyway. Driving with Mac is always an adventure, which is useful when trying to avoid being killed by a terrorist organization. Maneuvering Los Angeles traffic? Way, way less so.

“Maybe driving myself home wouldn’t have been such a bad idea.” She mumbles, fighting the urge to grab the handle above the door.

“Hey! I always get us home in one piece.”

“Physically maybe,” an amused smile finds its way to Riley’s face, “But mentally? I should sue you for psychological trauma.”

The look of disbelief that follows is enough to get her through several lifetimes, or it could be the smile he struggles to hide under his offended facade.

“Ouch,” Mac puts his left hand over his heart, “That hurts right here, Riles.”

The nickname throws her off, causing her stomach to flip. It’s just a silly name, it shouldn’t affect her like this, but her heart still clenches uncomfortably.

She attempts to brush it off, trying for a humoring grin that feels more like a grimace.

Though the comfortable atmosphere doesn’t change, the playful energy is replaced by more silence. As buildings pass outside, all Riley can think about is how much she hates silence. Man, what she would do just to get rid of it for a little bit. It’s constant these days, and it always finds her no matter where she goes.

Her fingers tug at her bottom lip, a nervous habit she’s recently adopted, as she tries to think through possible solutions to the predicament she’s found herself in.

She must be pretty engrossed because it takes her a minute to realize Mac’s spoken again.

“What?” Her brain slows down enough to pick out his words, something about how much sleep she’s gotten recently, “Oh, I don’t know.”

She tries not to notice how concerned he looks when he asks, “You don’t know?”

Not really

Logically, she knows that she sleeps almost every night. How long? It’s hard to tell sometimes. If she’s lucky, she can get a couple hours in before her brain goes into hyperdrive. Other times, she’d rather be doing something productive on her rig instead of staring at her ceiling fan.

She props her elbow against the window and rests her head in her hand, “I guess it hasn’t been a priority.”

From the corner of her eye, she can see him open his mouth and close it abruptly, trying to find the right words to comfort or soothe her.

As always, Mac is trying to rectify the situation.

“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

She doesn’t miss the parallel and throws him the same reclusive look he had given her on multiple occasions.

“That’s my line.”

There’s an irritating tension that fills the space, like the feeling you get when you can’t get past a certain level on a video game. It’s a little stifling, urging Riley to do whatever it takes to make it disappear.

“C’mon Riley, you’ve been off ever since, you know, the whole codex situation. At first, I thought, well, it was kind of traumatizing for everyone involved, but then you moved out and,” He trails off, and she can physically see him putting all the working components together, “Is it the apartment?”

God, she wished it was just the apartment. Sure, it plays a part in all her problems right now, but she knows that it’s more of what the empty apartment represents than the apartment itself.

Still, she’s glad he came to that conclusion. It’s easier to lie to him when it doesn’t pertain to the actual issue at hand.

“The apartment’s fine,” she says after a moment of hesitation.

“It’s the AC unit, isn’t it?” His lips compress shortly before he shakes his head, “I knew I should have looked at it.”

As he starts ranting about the condenser coils in her air conditioner and how easy it is for them to get dirty, Riley can’t help but let a soft laugh fall from her lips.

“Mac, it’s not my air conditioning.”

When he opens his mouth to respond, she holds her hand up to stop him. “It’s not my heater either, or my ceiling fan, or anything that might require your unique expertise.”

“But it has something to do with the apartment.”

The statement is blanketed in excitement as if he knows he’s getting closer to uncovering the truth. He’s always been so obsessed with knowledge and learning, never quite capable of letting things go and living in ignorance.

His eyes light up with child-like curiosity; it’s highly annoying and endearing at the same time.

She feels her self control loosening.

With Mac, she feels secure, like maybe she can put herself back together again. She could confess to a crime, and he wouldn’t look at her any differently.

That helplessness kicks back in, tearing her apart from the inside.

When he slows to a stop in front of her complex, she hasn’t answered him yet.

In the back of her mind, she’s a little proud of herself for only joking about his driving once in the ten minutes it took to get there.

She stares at the lobby entrance and can feel the soft flannel of his shirt, giving him a hug before she exits his truck. She can hear the sleepiness in her voice as she leans against the door and tells him goodnight. She can see herself walk through the double doors and not turning around.

She can see it so clearly, but she remains planted in the passenger seat.

Fear tangles itself in her shoulders, in her stomach, in her heart.

Not just because she dreads the idea of spending another night counting the minutes before her alarm goes off, but because she doesn’t want to leave with their friendship in this state.

She just wants everything to go back to normal, to get back some semblance of their old friendship before she knew how she felt.

Mac waits beside her, a patient and comforting presence.

“It’s just so quiet. Up there, it’s just me and my thoughts. They never cease or quiet down; it’s a constant loop. I try listening to music or watching TV, but I can never focus on any of it. Then, I start panicking because I don’t know if it’ll ever go away. There’s no comfort, no stability. I’m just… alone.”

With every word, a little of the weight falls from her shoulders.

It almost feels like she can breathe again.

“The only time I don’t feel like that is when I’m working,” she clenches her hands in her lap, “At Phoenix, I can get to any room in the dark with my eyes closed, and I’m constantly surrounded by people I’ve known for years. It feels… safe.”

Mac’s silent, reaching over to grasp one of her hands.

“You don’t feel safe here?” He encloses her left hand between his own and squeezes, the pressure and warmth spreading through her body like wildfire.

She meets his eyes, “Not in the way that matters.”

He turns the truck off, hopping out before Riley can say anything else. He walks around the hood of the car and pulls the passenger door open, “Come on.”

“What are you doing?”

He helped her out of the truck, “You trust me, right?”

More than he’ll ever know.

“You know I do.” She eyed him suspiciously as he opened one of the complex’s doors for her, following as she entered.

“From what I can recall, Bozer got you a Nintendo Switch for your birthday earlier this year. It’s been a while since I’ve had the pleasure of destroying you in Super Smash Bros.”

His voice was quiet, trying not to disturb the people trying to sleep.

“First of all, you’ve never destroyed me in Super Smash Bros, and you never will if you keep playing with Luigi,” She grinned, watching as he shook his head in disagreement, “And second of all, it’s two in the morning.”

He shrugged, “That’s never stopped us before.”

He wasn’t wrong, but things were different now.

Riley tried not to think about Desi, wrapped up in Mac’s bed, peacefully sleeping and blissfully unaware of this entire exchange.

Not that she had anything to worry about.

It didn’t matter anyway because clearly, Riley had issues with saying “no” to Angus Macgyver.

“Fine, but prepare to get your ass beaten.”

He grinned triumphantly, “That sounds like a challenge.”

She unlocked her apartment door, stepping into the dark and quiet entryway. She faltered a little bit, her heartbeat quickening with newfound anxiety.

As always, the apartment radiated energy that always put Riley out of place.

Mac closed the door behind him, helping himself to any food he could find in her fridge. There was an intimacy to it, a closeness that made the apartment much more bearable. Her shoulders dropped a little, the anxiety easing a little as she took a deep breath.

She busied herself in the living room, connecting the switch to her TV and grabbing a variety of different pillows and blankets.

It was, after all, a tradition for these types of events.

Mac joined her after a couple of minutes with two beers, “Your fridge is worse than mine.”

“Will you get it started,” Riley ignore his comment, handing him one of the controllers, “ I’m going to change.”

When she returned in a comfy ensemble of leggings and a sweatshirt, Mac was scrolling through the character list. She hopped the back of the couch to sit next to him, watching as he hovered over Luigi for what feels like an eternity.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Mac’s determined expression didn’t falter, “You’re just jealous of my skills.”

Those skills proved to be no match for Riley’s, though, after she managed to beat him in the first game. It became much more entertaining when she did it again in the second. She tried not to laugh, but it became nearly impossible with his onslaught of complaints.

“You’re such a cheater, you can’t do that!” He pressed down hard on the keys as if smashing them harder will make Luigi speed up.

Jokes on him, Luigi was the slowest character in the game.

Very slowly, her exhaustion began to creep up on her. She knew she was done for when Mac actually managed to beat her. He seemed just as surprised as she was, but he suggested switching to a movie anyway.

They ended up choosing a documentary, something that Mac had been interested in watching recently. Riley didn’t care what they watched, as long as she got to lay down.

Mac placed a pillow in his lap and tapped it gently.

“So, was this your plan,” She comfortably adjusted her body, so her neck wasn’t in an awkward position propped up on the pillow.

In front of them, a monotone voice explained the phenomena surrounding the universe.

“Homo Sapiens are social creatures; we need people to survive,” Riley could feel Mac’s fingers coursing through her waves, creating a soothing pattern that calmed any remaining tension in her body.

“You feel comfortable at Phoenix, sitting around the fire pit at my house, or spending time with the team at the arcade because we’re there. It’s okay to need us, Riles, because trust me, we need you, too.”

Mac’s words barely resonate with her, and she hummed noncommittally in response.

His fingers gently combed through the tangles at the nape of her neck, “I don’t think we build homes in material things like houses or apartments, but rather, in the people we surround ourselves with.”

Laying there, with her head on his lap and his fingers in her hair, Riley could only think one thing:

He couldn’t be more right.

#macriley #macgyver #Angus MacGyver #riley davis #just cute things #hope you enjoy!!

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thedovahcat · 6 years ago

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And Then There Was...Wildstar

Since today is the anniversary of the shut down announcement, or at least I think it is, and cuz I’m a copycat and I’ve seen a few people’s introspective posts flying around my dash today, it’s time to add my experience to the pile.

Where do I even begin with Wildstar? It came around during an EXTREMELY volatile time in my life, aka the end of the teens and my early twenties. The real ‘formative years’ if you asked my opinion on it.

I had been an avid WoW fan since I could first play at the age of 13, which had to have been about 2007-2008 abouts. When 2013 or so rolled around, I had been told by friends that a new MMO was coming out, and that it was all space-western-y, my two greatest loves.

Naturally I waited, along with everyone else for a beta, and got in and instantly fell in love with what we’d come to know as Nexus. I was star-struck. The art, the music, the style, the humor, everything hit home with me like no other game had at that point, and I was ready to throw WoW to the wind to go full time and soak up as much of those space rays as I could. And it was even better because it was going to be with friends! I had already established I wanted to bring Rev over and start anew in the Dominion. I had so many new plotlines and ideas whirling around in my head faster than a tornado over a bee farm.

Unfortunately, during this time as well, I saw Wildstar as an escape.

I was being bullied away from WoW at the time by someone who wanted what I had. You think, “Who would do that?? What did they try to do, Dovah?” Many things really. At first they were small aggressions disguised as an interest in trying to befriend me, then that curtain dropped and the aggressions got bigger and bigger.

It was like watching something rot out from the inside. Was I absolutely jealous they were trying to steal a close-now-best friend from me?? Absolutely. I knew it was intentional. I could see it written on the walls. And while I was accustomed to this kind of shit occurring in real life and on the internet to some degree, it only really hurt because for a while, nobody believed me.

Rumors had been planted, people had been told lies and god knows what else, that I was the bad guy of this story. Accused of doing everything that was being done towards me at the same time. It was just another episode of ‘Who Started The Drama’ on Wyrmrest Accord, business as usual amiright?

And I won’t lie, I did try to retaliate several times to stop everything. I got desperate. Said things I meant, said things I didn’t mean, to the point where I couldn’t tell which was which anymore. Everything was wrapped in a huge burrito of panic and fear. And will I be ashamed of that, possibly for the rest of my life? Absolutely positively one hundred percent yes.

After a while, I didn’t fight back anymore. I didn’t make public call-outs, naming names. Sure, did I tell people about it if they asked? Of course, but in private only (because it turned out they too had suffered a similar situation like I was at the time.) Or, sometimes I told people unprompted in private because we happened to talk about our experiences being caught in drama, and I never hesitated to give my side of the story. The side that was RARELY ever heard, to my knowledge. I wanted as many people as possible to know what this person was like and what they were doing to me. For my own sanity, and for the sake of getting the truth out there in some form or another. It was relatively contained as far as I knew, so I rolled over onto my back, ready to accept my lot in life once again as someone’s punching bag because they were jealous of me and what I had and just would NOT go away no matter what happened. Naturally, I thought it really was all my fault that this was happening. We all jump to that conclusion at least once or ten times.

And then came Wildstar, and it had started to look very tempting.

I could start over. I could get away from it all. I could play with my friends ‘in secret’ and not have to worry about being slandered or god knew whatever ELSE had been done at that point on WoW, or wherever else.

Foolish was I to think that my troubles had ended there.

Many people from WoW came to play Wildstar, which was both a blessing and a curse. Moreso the latter in my case.

The person in question found out, began to main the same faction, and just put their hands on everything all over again. I felt as though I had hit a reset button, everything just started over once again. They told people about me, they got me blacklisted and blocked from one of the biggest RP guilds ever to hit the server at the time, and who knows where it branched out from there.

I went silent again. Kind of like a dog with its tail between its legs. The Dominion was no place for me, so, what was I to do?? I didn’t want to abandon this game and world I’d come to love so much in such a short amount of time.

I had never taken an interest in the Exiles. For some reason they hadn’t appealed to me at first. They were the overrated good guys. The underdogs that would always win. I wanted to play the ‘bad guys’ and do my whole spiel about making them more than JUST the bad guys.

But suddenly? As dramatic as it sounds, the Exiles, suddenly sounded very appropriate, in terms of matching up to how I felt.

Exiled. For stupid shit ‘crimes’ I never ‘committed.’

So, I rolled up my sleeves and rerolled Rev’s character, deciding to branch him out in a different direction entirely. I ended up with Roger, and was dumped out into the Gambler’s Ruin, the complete shamble-of-an-arkship. And after that? The frosty bitter cold of the Northern Wastes.

My friend had offered to make another character with me, so that we could play together without being bothered. I had a glimmer of hope. Everything wasn’t over and I wasn’t dead yet (but man did I feel it) and so I pressed onwards.

I saw Algoroc for the first time and all its rolling plains and roans and the mountains and the whole wide open range. It felt so much different than the stormy Levian Bay, or the dark and gloomy Ellevar. The music was lighter, more upbeat, more ‘western’, which is silly because I had stated earlier that that was what I was looking forward to the most. The WESTERN COWBOY YEEHAW aspect of it.

Things were brighter, no less colorful, happier, hopeful. There was SO much land to explore and so many things to do. I was ready. Ready to start all over one more time. So I did.

I made my way through the area, learning about the Exiles and their culture, and the Eldan and whatever sinister happenings they had going in beneath the surface.

Before I knew it, I had reached Thayd, and was absolutely blown away by the size of the city. I was used to large environments from WoW, no doubt. But Thayd felt so interactive for some reason or another. Maybe it was the art style or the NPCs inhabiting it (and the players of course). But it felt alive. There were so many nooks and crannys to get lost in, how will I ever see this whole entire city?? I wondered.

It was a broken mish-mash of all that the Exiles slapped haphazardly together. Different people that didn’t fit together, trying to make something out of lots of little pieces of seemingly nothing.

It was a whole symbolic thing for me essentially.

After that I felt like I was home, in yet another dramatic sense.

Thayd felt right, what with its trashy streets and mismatched themes. Illium and its golden and crimson towers had never struck me as somewhere I belonged.

From that point on, things blur. I explored Galeras after that, introduced to the dire situation that was the Dominion descending upon the Exiles, ready to blast them all to kingdom come to reclaim a planet they believed theirs. I felt the tension, in a good way. It was a great story waiting to unfold, I thought. And I get to see it all from the beginning and be a part of it. I was absolutely ecstatic.

And then, from there, I went to Whitevale. One of the most FRUSTRATING ZONES I will never forget. I don’t even remember why. Maybe it was the size. Over time, I grew to love it in its own weird way, only because I departed for the damn MOON (Farside) afterwards and realized I hated the lack of gravity.

But, despite all. I had so much fun.

I thought about Roger and how he’d come to the Exiles, because I still wanted him to have a connection to the Dominion somewhere. I wanted to try exploring new character tropes and such with him, I wanted to be bold and take chances with ideas and do things I’d rarely seen people do (in my case? Traumatic brain injuries, good going.) I did myresearch, I kept exploring the world, I put all the pieces together little by little and I crafted a story. A story that grew larger and larger and larger and branched out to other characters I created alongside just Roger.

Suddenly I had an entire ‘world’ on my hands. Maybe not one the size of all of Nexus in this instance, but it was ROGER’S world.

I had locations planned thanks to the housing system, I had different story lines going alongside the ‘main one’. Every so often they would mesh and meet up and affect one another, and the ‘world’ would continue to grow from there.

These characters, new as they were, suddenly had lives. They had history, they had jobs, they had all those little aspects of fictional characters that bring them to life. Personalities, likes and dislikes, feelings, all of it. I was no stranger to creating characters, of course they did! In fact, most of them were based off many existing characters I had already HAD, just Wildstar-ified.

Over time, they became their own separate entities, only because they had grown and branched out into different directions I had never dreamed they would.

I don’t remember how long I had been in this enormous creative process of planting my roots. Maybe a year or two? It didn’t really matter. I was having the absolute time of my life.

However, on the back burner I knew all those awful things were still being said about me out there. I continued to play the game and storycraft mostly by myself. I knew if I stayed away from the masses that were WSRP, then no one would ever have any ‘proof’. No one could twist anything I said, or twist interactions I had with people, and use it against me.

You can’t accuse someone of something or things when all they do is play by themselves in their own little box all day long, can you? That was my line of logic.

Naturally I still got blocked from people’s tumblrs and such, which I found out on complete accident when I would try to fav posts. I never showed up to events. I did my artwork and only did artwork of my or my friends characters. Everything was very controlled.

And then one fucking day in August, my name gets tagged in someone’s call out post. At first I fucking panic, because of course. What did I do NOW? I made EXTRA SURE to stay out of everyone’s way. Who could POSSIBLY HAVE A BEEF WITH ME-

I checked the post.

Turns out, I wasn’t the one being called out.

No.

It was that person who’d been HOUNDING me for several years at that point, who was finally being called out.

The original poster had mentioned my name because, according to their words, and I’ll never forget it, ‘they heard through the grapevine’ that all that nasty crap had happened to me. Turns out, I wasn’t the only one who had been treated this way. MANY other people had been. There had to have been a good two handfuls of them out there, maybe more, who had been harassed by this person and their crummy friends. I was named in the post, and all the abuse I had took was relayed to the entire damn community (however it was worded in a way that it had to have been from an outsider’s perspective who’d heard the rumors spread about me, and never spoke to me directly. Cuz I didn’t know ANY OF THESE people and some of the details were wrong...but I digress.)

My business was practically on the front page of the Wildstar and WoW RP community (A smaller portion of the latter.) People had known about what happened to some degree. They had been on the receiving end of these rumors, they heard all the bullshit, they looked me up, they saw I had no dirt to my name. Never did anything to anybody. Maybe some of the stories I had told got relayed to them via playing telephone with other people, I’ll have no real way of knowing for certain.

If people didn’t know me then, they sure knew me NOW, I thought.

It turned into a hot fucking mess after that. People came out with their stories, people got angry at the victims, or at the abuser. There was collateral damage from what I could see from my spot in the corner.

That bad person was supposedly reprimanded by their guild leader for the backlash they received, though I’ll never know how big it actually was. It was probably really small, realistically. But like I said, I don’t know.

It was only then that I was finally believed. Like, completely. There were always little shreds of doubt with people, but this? This blew it out of the water.

I wasn’t at fault. People saw it wasn’t my fault.

I felt…

Liberated?? Like the shackles of this depressive, anxious...whatever DISASTER state I was in, finally broke off. And so QUICKLY too. I didn’t really know what the hell to do. There was nothing I COULD do except move on and try to recover.

It was OVER. It was finally fucking over and I was at a loss, because I had grown used to living in a state of panic and sadness and anger and god knows what else.

So, slowly, I started to.

I came to the conclusion, now that it was over, or ‘over’, I wanted to make some new friends.

Roger and company had already been set up and I found very little wiggle room for collaboration with people I didn’t know. So? What better way to fix that than make a new character to use to reach out to new folk?

I grabbed one of my older characters I salvaged from a falling out I had had before this entire post began, fixed him up and threw him into Thayd face first.

And so was the infamous Captain Yaedra reborn. With an e added to his fake name because it was ‘Yadra’ before, yet for some reason both names are said exactly the same way.

I had no idea what to do with him. I hated elves. I hated long ears. They were boring. Everyone was making them and beautifying them and whatever else. I was salty. I wanted to create a raccoon more than I wanted an elf.

The zombie aesthetic definitely helped me some.

I played through all the Mordesh areas, trying to learn as much as I could about their history, about Grismara, about the Contagion.

A zombie story...it utterly fascinated me. And considering I had not changed Captain’s outfit design from his original self in the slightest? Once more, I rolled up my sleeves and began to craft a world. Another world.

Yaedra’s entire world. And by extension, my own version of a portion of Grismara.

His hometown, his career, his life, his family, every little bit. I brought it all to life once more, and soon found myself living in the ‘past’ as much as I was living in the ‘present’. As far as character timelines go.

During all this, I tried being nice to random people, or I saw art and commented on it, I tried to be more open with the community, I even joined another small guild and in the end I ended up making some really great friends who I still talk to today!

They loved what I had created. And I loved their creations in turn. We formed a tight knit group of ‘heroes’ if you would. Got into all kinds of IC shenanigans. It was fun, it was silly, it was dramatic. I didn’t feel any pressure to be anyone in particular. I felt like I could be myself, and so could Captain. We were where we belonged. And it was fantastic. And still is.

From there, I met some of their friends, and so on and so on, and I did end up gaining a small bit of presence in the community via commissions and doing my own artwork as well. Things were finally nice, and calm.

I felt like I had waded through a war of some kind, and finally, at long last, it was OVER. Peace had finally COME. I had gone through a lot of mental trauma, but as the months and several years went on, I slowly came around. I tried very hard to. My dragon scales grew thicker as time went on, and my flames certainly hotter.

And, after a while… I found myself playing Wildstar less and less. Not because I hated it, not at all. But because it no longer felt like a crutch to me. I no longer felt as though I needed it to stay afloat. I had grown and changed, for the better no doubt. I learned to stand my ground from all the knocks I had taken, I learned to start speaking up when things were being done to me that weren’t right, or nice, or whatever. Did I end some friendships that way? Sadly, yes.

But I was done. I wouldn’t be ANYONE’S punching bag anymore.

The Exiles toughened me up. I wasn’t about to take ANYONE’S crap and neither was Captain. Both of us, fists BARED.

My time on Nexus dwindled even more.

I went back to WoW out of habit, and spent more time there. Soon enough I was hardly logging onto Wildstar at all. Many people were bored of the game’s lack of ...everything. Content most certainly. You could only do the same things so many times. I wasn’t part of a huge RP guild that constantly had events going, though I was by the end (but even that was kind of flakey because people just weren’t as interested in the game as they had once been.)

I hadn’t thought much about my story lines or characters. They had, over time, fallen into situations and such that I had long resolved. My ‘characters’ were tired of adventure and drama, and I wanted to give them a chance to have their happily ever afters, via ‘soft-retiring’ them. I still wrote stuff and drew art on the side, just….less of it.

In the months before Wildstar, I rarely thought about Nexus at all.

Until the horn sounded with Wildstar’s imminent closing.

For months prior to that, I had been sitting and watching. I knew it had been on the way. NC SOFT being...NC SOFT of course (with Carbine’s mismanagement in general, though at the time I did not know about this,) made this more than obvious.

So it didn’t come as a surprise to me.

If anything, I felt a sort of subdued melancholy about it.

If I can compare it to anything, it was like watching a pet or something grow old. There was the initial excitement of a new friend, and the beginning years were amazing and fast and fun filled and emotional. And then over time, things grew comfortable. I didn’t need to give Nexus my full attention anymore. ‘We’ had this ‘understanding.’ I could always go back to Nexus whenever I wanted. I always had a place there waiting for me. Characters, fun, stories, etc.

And then I began to move on.

Wildstar for me was a lot of things. It was a period of mental destruction, it was a period of rebirth and growth for me as a person, it was a reminder of the roller coaster ride that was good and bad times all bundled into one. It was my ‘growing up’ period. It was the rocky road of a transitional phase from the end of my childhood, to the beginning of my adult years.

Yes I know this might sound silly, all over an MMO that barely lasted at all, and the last thing I wanna do is be silly, but it’s how I felt. I’m not going to try to disguise it as something else, because that was what it all was to me.

The months sped by and before I knew it, it was the last day the server was up. Wildstar would be closing that evening or afternoon, or whatever. I don’t recall the time.

I had sat there debating whether or not to attend that final count down.

A part of me wanted to. I wanted to be there, to send off this MMO that had meant so much to me!

But another part of it told me to not go.

In the end, I did not go.

Not because I would be crying, or throwing a fit or whatever.

The main reason I didn’t go, was because I wanted to remember Nexus the way it was. I didn’t want to see people bunched up in one area, being turned into all sorts of critters, I didn’t want the lag to destroy my computer, I didn’t want to see their storm of messages and how sad everyone was, I didn’t want to read the Caretaker’s countdown messages saying how he’d miss us, in his own special way.

To me, all that meant Wildstar was due to die at any moment. That Nexus would suddenly cease to be, that all these things everyone worked so hard on, would just be gone, in the blink of an eye.

I didn’t want that to be the last memory I had of that place.

And so, the shut down came. The night went on.

I woke up the next morning, and everything felt ok, for the most part. Yes I felt like I was missing a piece of myself, but it was a lot smaller than I can say for some people.

The hole I had in my heart had mostly patched itself up with nicer memories. With the possibilities that were yet unexplored.

As far as I WAS, and am, aware? Nexus isn’t dead. Not at all. It’s just sleeping, for right now. It’s taking a well needed rest. It’s not really gone.

All the stories, all the characters, they exist in our head spaces. They still go on. I still write for them occasionally.

If anything, I feel like they have even MORE to explore now.

These days, people are working or playing already on private servers, and while I entertain the idea of joining one or finding another group to play with… Well, that’s all it really ends up being. An idea.

I’m perfectly happy with what I got out of Wildstar, and what I got to take away from it and keep.

I grew as a person, albeit the hard way (but that’s just how it is sometimes.) My creativity grew, my ability to make better stories and characters grew alongside that. I made new friends that I still keep to this day. That bad person got their just desserts and my most-likely-over-exaggerated-because-I’m-sure-people-have-gone-through-worse-torment was finally put to rest. I had more confidence in myself, yada yada… You get the idea.

Everything had resolved, for the most part.

Everything was said and done, regarding that chapter of my life.

And what a ride it was.

BUT I have to say, if there’s one specific thing I favor, that I got from this entire putrid mess that I would do it all over again for??

I got Cap back.

So, thank you for returning my raccoon to me, Nexus. I��ll never forget it. One day when those private servers are finished and the game is mostly restored, I’ll definitely come back to play through it again, and most likely come up with even more new adventures for me to write and explore.

Until then, cupcakes! Dovah signing off on this...eight page story-rant!

#wildstar #i didnt mention EVERYTHING in here because it would be even longer #but for the most part this was my experience #and i wouldnt trade it for the world

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letamreviews · 5 years ago

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Top of 2019

With 56 films watched and 27 favorited in 2019, I composed a list of my top. By pure happenstance, the list is almost an exact third (18) of the total films watched. Be aware that I don’t have as much to say about some of these because I took no notes after.

Because I’d be biased towards them, I don’t count the National Theatre Live plays.

Since the list is likely to be altered between now and the end of February (to accommodate for films missed), check the Lettboxd list later on to see an up to date listing, but be aware that it intentionally lacks the details provided here.

EDIT (01/04/20):

Woke up this morning religiously re-reading this and caught some grammar errors. It’s almost like staying consistently well-rested is actually beneficial. While I’m at it, Blind Rating (BR) is how worthwhile the film is watching “blind” (or knowing nothing). The scale is 1 (worth it) to 5 (you must). ‘Eh is essentially a 0.5.

1. Midsommar (USA)

Saw the original and Director's Cut in theatres and discussed them with a group immediately after both times. I’m somewhere between really liking it and loving it. Still unsure. Hell of an experience with a lot to notice, debate over, and pick up on during the second viewing. Don’t even get me started on the Christian/Dani matter. Dat tension, tho. Blind Rating: 4/5

2. Us (USA)

Saw in theatres and discussed with a group immediately after. I’m digging the allegories and the way (I think) it reflects on society. Dem reveals, tho. Blind Rating: 4/5

3. Toni Morrison: The Pieces I Am (USA)

Saw in theatres and discussed with a group immediately after. Two things probably play a huge hand in this not being atleast 3 spots lower: my demographic and the fact that her older self constantly reminded me of my grandma and a certain middle school teacher. Regardless, it’s an entertaining, interesting, and lively documentary with its many personalities on-screen all giving their take on matters along with Ms. Morrison herself. Glad they managed to finish and release this 1.25 months before her death. Blind Rating: 0/5

4. When They See Us (USA)

Saw on Netflix over the course of a month. Y’all, this one hurt too much to watch again any time soon. Admittedly, part of the reason why it hit me so hard is because I could easily have been one of them. Dat ending, tho. Don’t forget to watch the Oprah followup When They See Us Now after. You’ll ball (again). Blind Rating: 3/5

5. Parasite (South Korea)

Saw an advance screening in theatres and watched a live post-film Q&A. I really like it. This hit me in such a way that it’s one of three films I’m writing an essay on. Planing on watching it a second time soon so I can finish with a sense of accuracy. This isn’t one that I would recommend looking at images for. There are some that will spoil the experience of the second half. Seriously, block the “Parasite” tag from your feed if you can. Blind Rating: 3/5

6. Luce (USA)

Saw in theatres and discussed with a group immediately after. This was is so~ good as a thriller and especially in regards to being Black in America. Wanted to watch it a second time but never managed to squeeze it in before it left theatres. Dem performances, tho. Dat tension, yo. Dat score, bro. Blind Rating: 1/5

7. Them That Follow (USA)

Saw in theatres and discussed with someone immediately after. I love it. Blind Rating: 1/5

A drama influenced thriller about a religious and somewhat self-isolating community that's effectively blanketing a realistic romance. (snip) —Letterboxd review

8. The Souvenir (United Kingdom)

Saw in theatres (partially because so many movie peeps were shitting on it). I love it, but I didn't fucking love it. Was tempted to see it again, but didn’t get the chance. Dat ending, tho. While it was a movie peep telling me the whole plot that caused me to gain so much interest in it [Cabin in the Woods (2011) all over again, amiright?], I must say that the less you know the better. It’ll make for... a more immersive experience. Blind Rating: 3/5

9. After the Wedding (USA)

Saw in theatres and discussed with a group immediately after. I thought I really liked it, but I love it. This was a trip down unexpected lane, le'me tell ya. The trailer is a spoilerful lie, but the Landmark's description is very accurate. People's experiences will have a heavy hand in how they react to it and feel about certain characters. The way they made this feel like a constant thriller was excellently done. Dat cinematography, tho. Go in knowing nothing more than what the previous link provides. Blind Rating: 1/5

10. Joker (USA)

Saw in theatres and discussed with a group immediately after. I really like it. Blind Rating: 1/5

(slight spoilers)

This was difficult to watch at times, but hella captivating throughout. Arthur's reasoning is believable, his sanity is questionable, and his life is indeed one hell of a joke. Like watching an extreme example of what happens when people on the lower end lose access to social programs. This can very easily be taken as a commentary on mental illness kept unchecked. More than that, it's a story about a guy who accepts his "crazy" and transcends poverty, circumstance, and societal bullshit... at everyone else's expense. (snip) —Letterboxd review

11. Miles Davis: Birth of the Cool (USA)

Saw in theatres and discussed with a group immediately after. I really like it. Captivating documentary in a very similar style to Toni Morrison: The Pieces I Am, but with Mr. Davis never joining the “talking heads” (as people like to call it) and instead being heard as a constant narrator of his own biography. Regardless of how I feel about him on a personal level, this shit was a great watch and the ending hit hard. Still need to get his autobiography, though. There’s a nostalgic factor for me here since I was partially reminded of my grandpa while watching it. Blind Rating: 'eh

12. Queen & Slim (USA)

Saw in theatres and discussed with someone immediately after. Fuck yeah, I enjoyed this one. Dat soundtrack and cinematography, bruh? 👌🏿 The throwback soundtrack, main characters’ racial group, and fact that they went to New Orleans definitely play a hand in why this one’s not atleast 1 spot lower. Blind Rating: 1/5

13. Dwelling in the Fuchon Mountains (China)

Saw in theatres during festival and attended discussion days later. I really like it. Was long, but in a good way. Similar to Ash is Purest White (2018) in that I kept thinking "please end here," but would be glad it didn't later. It's beautifully slothy and has absurdly long tracking shots. The cinematography during walking conversations is notable. Dat trick, tho. Blind Rating: 'eh

14. A Girl Missing (Japan)

Saw in theatres during festival and discussed with a group immediately after. Bruh~, this is a hell of a personal trial. Didn’t expect it to go the places it did. Blind Rating: 1/5

15. Dutch Angle: Chas Gerretsen & Apocalypse Now (Netherlands)

Saw on MUBI on phone. I love it. This goes over his childhood (for 8 minutes), career paths, photography of 9/11/1973's Chilean coup d'etat, the 6 months he spent on-set photographing Apocalypse Now (1979), and him as a person. What I didn’t expect was how much he would get into the details of things happening during that film’s development. Along with those details are interesting photos presented excellently in a way that’s reminiscent of manga at times. I like the way the photos take center point and are treated like the foreground. It’s like the director and editor forced themselves to remain aware that the documentary was showcasing 15% of the total slides housed in the Nederlands Fotomuseum’s archives in Rotterdam and that most of his Apocalypse Now photos were never seen. Dat score, tho [Ex Machina (2014) vibes]. Blind Rating: 0/5

BTW, it had its official (Dutch national) release by EYE Filmmuseum on 12/19/19 in the Netherlands, so maybe it’ll come to the USA soon. 🤷🏿‍♂️ Forgot to mention it’s been added as a special feature to the 40th anniversary 4K blu-ray disc of Apocalypse Now: Final Cut (2019).

16. Receiver (Ireland)

Saw on MUBI on phone. I really like it. A very interesting short film in three odd segments. First was disturbing; second was about activism, protests, and politics; third was about the person I assume the film was made for. All compose what I took as a film about the importance of having reliable sound and hearing. Needs to be watched alone with good sound quality (for immersion). Blind Rating: 'eh

17. Bacurau (Brazil)

Saw in theatres during festival. I really like it. This was some Most Dangerous Game shit with a hell of an ending. The whole game is an allegory of civilized people's obsession with hunting wild animals for "sport". I really like the portrayal of history here and enjoyed the racial matters it lays bare. I can only imagine someone watching this without knowing a thing. Kinda wish I didn’t even read the description beforehand. Digging the soundtrack. Blind Rating: 1/5

18. Little Women (USA)

Saw on 35mm and discussed with others on separate occasions. I really like it. This was just warming and sad. I felt for the main characters and actually felt satisfied with the way it ended. Considering the type of film, there are handful of typical things for me to complain about. That being said, the movie earned its stars back. I mean, did you not see their attic performances? Shit was dope. Blind Rating: ‘eh

#2019 #top of #favorite films #i love it #i really like it #Ireland #Netherlands #Japan #China #Brazil #United Kingdom #USA

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some-cookie-crumbz · 6 years ago

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Another Set of Updates

Okay, gonna try to keep this as brief as possible!

My poll regarding which Kidge-a-Palooza AU I should turn into a story proper is still available: [here]. I’m gonna leave it up for another week or so, so please give it a vote if you haven’t already!

Chapter 4 of Here (In Your Arms) is up and available: [here].

Chapter 2 of Paint me in Trust is up and available: [here].

Chapter 2(6) of Time, Space and Everything Between is up and available: [here].

Since the update for Time, Space and Everything Between is up, I wanted to clarify a few things about where it’ll be going from hence forth. That information (spoiler free) can be found below for those that are interested.

Okay, so, confession time! This fic wasn’t supposed to become what it is now. Originally, I planned for this fic to be about six/ seven chapters and go in a somewhat different direction than it has. There was going to be an entire chapter dedicated just to the Kogane and Holt families bonding. The rescue of Shiro was going to go almost the same as it did in the series canon, with Keith being kept on Earth with his father using his camouflage device and entering the Garrison in hopes of snuffing out who the Blue Paladin was. The only big changes to it that I intended to make was Keith and Pidge knowing each other prior, Keith actually being a Galra, and when they head back to the shack, they’re greeted by Papa Kogane. From there, I was planning to end the fic with them going through the wormhole and implying events played out mostly the same as canon. But, then I decided I didn’t really like that idea either, so then I thought I’d go the route of letting Keith grow up with the Holt’s. Like, Ethan moving out there and Krolia leaving Keith on Earth to have a tradional human childhood.

As you can see, I didn’t end up doing any of that. And you may be wondering why.

Because the last season of Voltron left me that disappointed but I will admit I had issues with the show even before that Spit-in-the-Face ending but we’ll get there and I was raised by parents who said “If you don’t know how you’d improve something, you shouldn’t be the one to complain about it.”

Well, fine then. I’m gonna do just that.

ALSO I WANT TO CLARIFY that I am NOT saying I could have written the show better than the show runners themselves! I’ve never been in the position(s) they were in. I do, however, have the benefit of hindsight, which allows me to look at where the show succeeded and failed respectively, and take steps that I think would offer a more cohesive, enjoyable story-telling experience as a whole. I am taking the things that I, personally, took issue with, as well as some of the bigger things I’ve seen the fandom at large take issue with. At the end of the day, though, most of these decisions will be made from my own personal desires/ whims (since, you know, ship-feels and all that jazz). I will, however, be open to criticism from any and all who read my fics, so please feel free to tell me what you think does or doesn’t work as we go along.

I’m gonna break this down into four main categories down below; Things I’m Adding, Things I’m Cutting, Things I’m Adjusting, and Cut Fic Content. All but one of these is pretty self-explanatory, I think, but I promise to explain that little oddity when we get there. I’ll also touch on what and why I chose to approach certain things the way that I did.

Things I’m Adding

Melenor and Garett

Queen Melenor is kind of an anomaly in the series, don’t you think? It was kind of implied throughout most of the series proper that she died while Allura was still pretty young, which would have made a lot more sense for both Allura’s relationship with Alfor, as well as why Alfor was so distant from Zarkon when Daibazaal began tattering at the seams. But then Season 8 happened and threw all that out the window! All of a sudden, Melenor’s death suddenly carries this great significance for Allura, to the point she has a hallucination about her. Plus, it also kinda throws a wrench into scenes from the earlier seasons. Allura specifically says “Zarkon killed my Father and my Mother!” but… If Melenor was killed by Zarkon, where was she during the fall of Altea? Why wasn’t she with her daughter and husband in the final moments? And it makes even less sense when you look at that first scene where Allura and Coran were introduced. There were eight pods there. You mean to tell me Alfor didn’t think it might be a good idea to save an extra body or two to help guide Allura as she steps into the role she will have to take once he’s gone? Or even to help with maintaining/ rebuilding the Castle of Lions?

So, I’ve decided to add Melenor as a way to give some more characterization to not only she herself as a character, but also Alfor. Plus, I decided to make use of Garett (whose name I spell differently for reasons), Coran’s son from the original series, too. I think it’d be more fun to have an extra set of hands on board to help maintain the Castle of Lions and teach the Paladins, but maybe closer to their age range. So, we’ll see how things go with adding him to the roster. :3

Backstory for the Blades

This was something that we should have gotten a little bit of exposition on, considering how inflated their importance got. Like, the Blade became instrumental to the functionality of both Voltron and the Rebels due to their intelligence gathering. I think it’d have been kind of cool to see where it all started and what events in specific triggered it into becoming.

More Focus on Team Relationships

I didn’t really feel like the big victory against Zarkon was earned at the end of Season 2. I also didn’t think the team really earned any of their bigger victories, such as against Lotor and Honerva. They never felt like a real team that meshed because they just kinda stuck the same pairs/ clicks together. This was my biggest issue throughout most of the show and I really want to explore the dynamics we never really got to see. There are a few standout relationships that definitely needed some retooling, but I’ll mention those farther down.

More Alien Worlds

Sci-fi and Fantasy are my big genres because I. Fudgin. Love seeing the designs for different technology, worlds and races. And while we did get some interesting ones with the series proper - which I’ll be mostly still including - I wish we’d gotten to see more. So, because I have no self-control, I’ll be planning to do that here!

Shiro’s Love Life

Shiro deserved better. I feel like that’s kind of something that most of the fandom can agree on. I don’t say this from a place of hate for Curtis, though, because… Well, what is there to hate? He was a literal background character who did nothing, said maybe two lines of dialogue, and that was it. Considering how much they pushed Shiro being the rep for the LGBT+ crowd, they did literally nothing with his love life. Hell, Adam was only revealed as his fiance because Bex fought tooth and nail for them to say it! If they hadn’t pushed the way they did, it would have all been subtext.

So, Shiro is going to have a romantic side plot in this fic, where we’ll focus on him and the character I’ve picked to be his partner.

Minor Side Romances

Some other little side pairings are gonna get a bit of love, here, too, since Voltron really only did the romance side of things well with, like, two couples. All the main couples are also gonna get plenty of spotlight, but I also think it would be fun to do some smaller side ships every now and then, too.

Things I’m Cutting

Villain Roulette

There was way too much jumping back and forth between who our main villain to focus on was. Bam, it’s Zarkon! No, wait, now it’s Lotor! Just kidding, here comes Zarkon again! Except that it was actually Lotor! Or so you thought; it’s actually Honerva haha great prank amiright? It was exhausting and I think it’d be a lot simpler to just… Stick with one villain who controls the smaller monster-of-the-day bad guys for an extended period of time and, once they’re for reals defeated, then move on to the next. I’ll be taking this approach for the sake of not only having a more focused story, but also my own sanity. I’ve never been good at gambling so trying the same thing as the show would probably turn out even worse for me.

Keith’s Excellent Blade Adventure with His Mommy

This is all unnecessary in this story, so we won’t be doing it at all. Keith’s sorry purple tail is staying with Team Voltron; no buts, no fuss, no coconuts.

Shiro’s Illness and Adam’s Death

Adam’s death is something I could go on about for hours specifically because it seemed unfair and kinda petty. Like, I feel they killed him specifically because they couldn’t kill Shiro, and they wanted to amp up the Tragic Backstory for our prior leader. So, instead, that’s getting the boot, as well as Shiro’s illness, since it’s also unneeded for plot convenience. Plus, it could have been nice to have a character that was willing to call Shiro out on the Atlus. Shiro always got treated like some kind of flawless entity, and I think it’d been nice to have someone call that Nice Guy Schtick out.

Allura and the Entity Plotline

This whole thing made no sense, got no proper development because of how late into the game they introduced it, and ended up being nothing more than a tool for them to kill Allura off. So, that can GTFO of my house post haste.

The Ending as a Whole

Some parts of the ending worked, but most of it just sucked. When the ending is so bad that it makes me feel obligated to stan characters I was ambivalent/ outright disliked? Yeah, gonna need to walk that back a bit.

Most of Seasons 3-6

The pacing in these seasons really was terrible. We derailed working on the team dynamic, building up the Coalition and Rebel forces, and developing the Paladins’ characters to instead focus on all that shit with Lotor. That… Was infuriating. Especially considering it was all basically a waste.

Additionally, we had Keith sidelined and his arc - which was clearly going to be center around him learning how to be a leader - completely pushed aside and then treated as if it did happened when he showed up late with Starbucks at the end of Season 6. That felt really unbelievable to me.

Time Skips

There were way too many time skips, for serious. Especially when those time skips didn’t include any kind of change in development/ character for the team. There’ll be smaller time skips, but nothing as egregious as what we got in seasons 6 and 7.

Things I’m Adjusting

Lion Swap

This’ll still be happening, but the circumstances that trigger it will be different. I may also shift around who gets to take which Lion when we get to that point. I haven’t decided just yet, but I’ll have it figured out before we reach that point. Most of this fic is already planned out and, honestly, the Lion Swap will be finalized once I figure out what I’m doing with a few of the other characters.

Shiro and Keith’s Relationship

This, right here? This was one of my biggest issues with Voltron. Keith was completely codependent on Shiro, while Shiro clearly cared about Keith’s well-being but it always felt like he’d have been just fine if something similar to what happened to him happened to Keith. It’s just… Really gross to me. It doesn’t help that I also find the whole “Dying for Your Lover” Trope – which I’ve seen a lot of people praise The Black Paladins for implying - to be incredibly disgusting and unhealthy. Also Keith’s flagrant hypocrisy never getting called out bothers me a lot since I actually like when a character behaves in a hypocritical manner, since it feels organic, but it has to be called out because hypocrisy can lead to double-standards and create harmful environments and I need to stop for now

So, Keith and Shiro are still going to be close, but they aren’t going to be that close.

Keith and Allura’s Relationship

Oh, look! Another potentially interesting aspect of the show that they kinda dropped the ball on! I really hated Allura’s heel-turn on Keith when it’s revealed that he’s Galra in S2 because a) It’s not like Keith himself knew this and was actively hiding it, and b) It felt out of character for the way Allura had been presented thus far. Her lashing out at Zarkon when she was captured made sense since he directly killed her father, her people and her planet. And I could understand being wary of the Blades – to the extent that she was in the first half – but after Keith’s heritage is revealed, she’s completely cold to him and only seems to decide he’s a good guy when he’s willing to take on a potential suicide mission! They either needed to drag the animosity out and show it effecting Allura’s ability to work with the team as a whole and also show the team sticking up for Keith because the fact that Hunk was the only one that said anything is kinda messed up like where tf was Shiro if he and Keith are oh so close? or they needed to tone Allura’s attitude towards him back a bit more, have her approach him in a manner similar to how she addressed the Blade members; acknowledging he is there and contributing, but not praising or thanking him outright.

And since Keith presents and knows he’s part Galra from the start in this fic? Well, we’ll actually get to play around with that dynamic a little more. And while I’m on the subject of our favorite Altean princess…

Allura’s Character Inconsistencies

Allura’s character jumped around a lot in some of the earlier seasons and I’d be willing to wager that this is because the writers never settled on an age for her. And I don’t mean during the big changes like her becoming a Paladin or Lotor’s betrayal, since it’d make sense she be shaken by situations that drastic. One minute, she’s this composed, confident and well-spoken young leader doing the best she can. The next, she’s a more temperamental sort who has low self-esteem/ confidence in her own abilities to even successfully contribute to a team. Now, I think I kniw what they were trying to do; they were trying to show that the more impulsive side of her is more genuine while the composed side is her trying to be the leader she is expected to be. I get it. They fixed this and improved on it later down the line, but they could have done better by maybe addressing it and using it as a chance to develop her relationship with another member or two of Team Voltron.

Season 2’s Ending

The defeat of Zarkon happened way too soon. Especially since then, because they wanted to play around with Lotor’s intentions, they had to bring him back as a cyborg-zombie fueled by quintessence. Zarkon should have only been defeated once and then we should have been allowed to move on to the next main villain. As such, I’m moving Zarkon’s defeat further down the line and will be modifying some of the consequences there in.

P Much Everything About Lotor’s Acr/ Motives

Lotor… Man, Lotor was confusing and a lot of wasted potential. They painted him as if they wanted him to be a morally grey villain, where he does terrible things for what he considers the betterment of others, but then, once it’s revealed that he was keeping secrets, he just… Goes full ham. He becomes Evil McAwful incarnate and it felt unrealistic. There were about 20 different directions they could have taken Lotor – before and after the reveal – and I just didn’t care for the approach they took. So, I’ll be doing things a little different and seeing how that goes.

What I’m Keeping from Seasons 3-6

Very, very little things are going to be kept from each of the aforementioned seasons and implemented in the fic. I’m not planning to keep too many of the big plot moments because they all bled into the issues I had with the story as it stood on its own. I will, however, take some of the small things from those three seasons and include them here. This also applies to certain elements from the other seasons as well, but we’ll get there when we get there.

Adopting Kosmo

Kosmo will be in this fic, come Hell or high water. He is the Best Boi and deserves to be here.

Cut Fic Content

Okay, so here’s the weird one in this line up! As the title implies, there’s some content that I have cut from the fic, even this early on. I actually have some of the Kogane-Holt bonding scenes still drafted up somewhere in my files. I removed them because I was worried that they’d feel too much like filler. There’s also some scenes I started to work out from when I planned to have Keith grow up with Pidge and Matt; specifically including a scene where Krolia and Ethan talk about the idea and decide to commit.

Some of these ideas won’t work in the fic as it stands now, though. I also, however, like the idea of putting it out for everyone to read. So, I’m debating on making a separate one-shot collection of things that could have happened, or just adding them as the occasional buffer between the arcs of the story. I’ll make a poll when I get closer to the point of deciding how to proceed, so keep an eye out for that. :3

That’s all for now! I hope you all enjoy the updates and I’ll hopefully be updating again sooner than this time!

#crumbles grumbles #info dump about my fics #I was planning to hold off on updating until I responded to all my current comments #But I was way too excited about having these ready to go!

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reds-revenge · 8 years ago

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im feeling evil so ALL THE LOCATION ASKS

>:( probably Josie anon, do you know how many times I gotta switch pages now? I’m kidding you’re cool mobile just sucks.

*deep breath* here we go

Amsterdam: yeah, I think so. I’ve always been the weird one, usually in a nice way but I’m still the weird one. I kinda sound like a robot when I’m tired, or trying to accomplish something, and I guess that’s not how all people think?? Anyway.

Athens: ahaha I’m not a perfectionist, I’m the PLATONIC IDEAL OF A PERFECTIONIST. Listen okay I will sink as much time as I need to get it perfect, that’s happening less with the depression bc I just can’t get it up to my standard, I’m trying to make this a Growing Opportunity and learn to set Attainable Goals, but it usually ends with me panicking instead. Ah well

Belgrade: my mother had a loooong list of names and my dad tried to mock them all, they only kept ones that you couldn’t really make weird nicknames for, one of my friends took that as a challenge and called me Kira the Mirra (like mirror) for a year, it was interesting

mom called my kiramodo dragon bc of some noise I made when I was a baby. I thought my name was baby for a while bc they called me Baby Kira my Deara. Then I decided I wasn’t a baby and dubbed myself Kira my Deara the Kid.

Berlin: well for that I’d have to KNOW what I what. I can usually do whatever, but I would really like is absolute certainty about things like do I exist, am I hurting people by existing, etc. and that’s just not something we get in this life. It’s :) so :) fun :) :) :)

Bratislava: it doesn’t have a firm genre, there’s a lot of oddly philosophical themes for something that’s mostly sci fi/ comedy, but there’s also bildungsroman elements bc life amiright, and what’s science besides a mystery?

The protagonist is Done™ with everyone including herself, there’s cephalopods.

Brussels: I’m not fluent in all the languages I borrow from but yeah I do this a lot, I’m a language nerd. I did it more often when I was younger and still liked learning Latin.

Bucharest: NOT ON PURPOSE OKAY, WE’D KNOWN EACH OTHER SINCE WE WERE FIVE SO ALMOST TEN YEARS AT THE TIME, I THOUGHT OF HIM AS MY BROTHER, WHY THE FUCK IS HE WRITING EMO STORIES ABOUT KISSING ME WE WERE S I B L I N G S.

I don’t think of him as family anymore but not bc of the ~*drama*~, I learned some Things and grew Wise. (Well, wisER)

Budapest: maybe, I was five, my love was unrequited. We ended up being friends bc in such a small class whatcha gonna do? We didn’t talk about that fiasco for ten years, turns out that whole declaring my love to the class thing was pretty awkward for him. Whoops.

Copenhagen: outside of old, distant relatives, no. I haven’t actually kissed someone romantically before at all, and I don’t have a desire to. I’m not saying I wouldn’t ever someday, I just haven’t sought that kinda thing out.

Dublin: between being a minor and being an obsessive rule follower, that hasn’t happened. I doubt I ever will, losing even the slightest bit of control over myself terrifies me

Helsinki: now this is interesting. I’m guessing this is referring to romantic love, but it doesn’t SAY that.

Look, I wanna be a scientist. Like really really wanna be a scientist, always have, always will. This sounds cliche but I feel like I was made for the sciences, I really do.

but I gotta go with love. Not romantic necessarily, just in general. And this isn’t a “well I’d better choose the Virtuous thing.” Like, I feel made for science, but science doesn’t mean anything if you’re not using it for something. Neither does art for that matter. Idk, but without love–for my family, my friends, for squids, for God–i just don’t see the point of this whole life thing. So yeah, I’m going with love

Kiev: YES AND FRANKLY I’D CHOOSE THE KNIFE EVERY TIME. I’m not gonna tell you EVERYTHING EVER THAT WAS SAID TO ME bc that would take way too long but yes, yes I have even when they weren’t trying to be knife words

Lisbon: I’m honestly not sure, like I like Hamilton’s America but I hate Trump’s, also I’m really drawn to the British isles and honestly France and Polynesia and India and Russia are all cool, so like I don’t feel like I belong but I might not belong anywhere if that makes sense? Idk tbh

Ljubljana: not really, I sound like my mother over the phone and if you look at baby pictures without the hair showing Greta and I get mixed up (not by family by friends) I have kind of distinctive hair, so.

London: Google says this is thinking vs feeling basically so I gotta go sense (thinking)

Luxembourg: I REGRET EVERYTHING and I often regret things deeply, like really stupid things bc of ~*damaging theology*~ but now mostly because ~*Ocd*~ (I think idk I guess maybe knocking that board over really will send me to hell, I’ve been spinning over this for YEARS)

Madrid: ALL THE TALENTS but maybe speaking fluent French, juggling, and playing guitar if you want some specifics

Moscow: No. I mean when else would I do all the thinking? Not during the day when I’m half asleep, surely.

Nicosia: whenever I’m nervous or exhausted which is most of the time now tbh

Oslo: HAhahahahaha this is hilarious. I’d like absolute 100% certainty that everything is 100% okay, always has been, and always will be. I don’t know what okay even is here but I know that 100% certainty does not exist and also everything probably isn’t okay, and EVEN IF I KNEW THIS I would still be nervous for some hellish reason, I don’t think I’ll ever actually have peace of mind :/

Paris: I mean yeah, but not more afraid than I am of most things. I guess I’m more scared I’d mess it up somehow

Podgorica: HELL YEAH. I mean, I’m curious about death and franklyitwouldntbeterribleifigothitbyasnipertomorrow @ the government, but setting that aside I’ve been raised on stories of people dying, dying for good or evil but for what they believe and I was kinda scared when I was little that I’d chicken out and surrender to the fascist government or whatever but I won’t, I’ll just do the thing, follow the rule same as any other. And even if my beliefs are wrong we’re all gonna die anyway, so

Prague: not really, no. I’ve got a good family, a good church for once, I’m heading to running start next year to study what I want, I don’t really have something to be jealous of.

I mean I’d like my brain to work but I’m not *jealous* of people who’s brains do the thing, I’m happy for them I just would like to be like that too

Reykjavik: A TINY FLOATING ISLAND COUNTRY I COULD PARK WHERE I WANTED I MEAN I DOUBT I’M GONNA MOVE PERMANENTLY OUT OF AMERICA BECAUSE THAT SOUNDS HARD AND MY FAMILY’S HERE BUT I DON’T LIKE ABSOLUTE RULES WHERE I DON’T NEED THEM

Riga: I would take as many selfies as I had to to get one I only kinda hate, I would post that one. (Yeah this is specific but I’m waiting for the technicality police over here, I totally would tho I don’t really care)

Rome: yeah but not romantically. I mean this is gonna sound weird I’m sorry but once in a blue moon I get an overwhelming sense of God and His love for me, that sounds cheesy or fake or something but I’m too tired to not be painfully honest rn

Sarajevo: TO INFINITY AND BEYOND. I wouldn’t do whatever they asked me to, I’m not gonna sign my mind over bc they’re human too and not always right and maybe the stakes are high etc, but if they need something I'ma do the thing at any cost of time, resources, sanity, etc. to myself I’ve got no boundaries here

Skopje: I honestly don’t know?? I’ve been called a lot of sweet things by a lot of sweet people and I remember EVERY SINGLE ONE and honestly I don’t think I could choose one, they’re all sweet in different ways, you know?

Sofia: not in a physical way, women are shockingly treated differently from men in Puritainville, but most people were fine with me in general if I didn’t touch certain buttons. Everyone had different buttons but never said what they were until whoops! It was fun :)

Mental health is also a super fun topic in Puritainville if you were wondering, someone told my mom when I first pulled out of school that I didn’t need a doctor, I just needed a book on Grace, because clearly my theology was why I couldn’t talk and slept fifteen hours a day

Also being Anglican was interesting, I tried explaining the whole icon thing and Lent and via media but it fell on deaf ears

I dunno if this is prejudice related or not but some guy called me a Pharisee when I was seven bc I told him off for making it impossible for me to follow the rules, he was trying to make us scared to teach us about God’s grace, you can imagine how well tiny Kira handled that

wow okay well I guess that’s a yes then

Stockholm: UNFORTUNATELY

In middle school everyone wrote stories about their thinly disguised classmates, and then in ninth grade creepy mcbadideas wrote stories about me saving him from his life basically and then him saving me from depression with a kiss, it was weird

and then Mom has used the whole family for story ideas

Tallinn: I can’t recall a rumour I’ve heard about myself, I’m very open. There were certainly rumors about me being ~*liberal*~ but that was actually true so idk.

I’d like to hear some though, I’m so out there already it’s gotta be entertaining

Tirana: no??? I’m honestly not sure what sexy is but everyone else seems to? Mom swears boys look at me–she’s usually telling me how not to die at a bus stop when this comes up– but I don’t notice anything

Valletta: thankfully no, at least not a big one. The worst I’ve injured myself was when I kinda timed a jump over a brick wall wrong and took out a chunk of my shin.

Vienna: I gave this one A LOT OF THOUGHT but I don’t think there’s like one song that totally captures my life, I definitely identify with songs but there’s not one single song in part because I’m still trying to process my life, you know? Fit things into the correct slots. Until I do that–if that’s even possible–i won’t have just one song. Sorry!!

Vilnius: yeah, why not? If it’s not like a permanent thing bc I have issues with permanency then it’d be cool, if only to get another point of reference for how things are done

Warsaw: i AM a depression lol. I thought two years was about as long as major depressive episodes lasted but I guess not, or maybe I was misdiagnosed idk

Zagreb: I’ve certainly given my TRUST to people I shouldn’t have, I’ve given my FRIENDSHIP to people I shouldn’t have, but I don’t think I’ve ever given someone my heart when I shouldn’t have.

Zurich: not at all. It’s a means to an end, you need it for college and food and stuff, but outside of that I really don’t care. I’ve been trying to figure out how we could restructure society without money and keep it fair and not suppress individuality and keep everyone taken care of it’s an interesting thought experimentTHERE I’M DONE I hope you appreciate that that took me a couple HOURS JOSIE I love you but WOW am I glad that’s over

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aghostpost · 8 years ago

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Quick Lil’ Blog Update Ting:

Hey guys!

So long story short my life is a mess! :D (Who woulda thought, sanity in 2017. What a myth, amiright?) And in attempt to get out of said mess I’m trying to do things a little differently, clean up my shit where I can, yada yada. I’m trying to run my life on a schedule and strict to-do lists now to get some kind of structure going on so I don’t lose my shit. So my thinking is I’ll still make my regular everyday posts (will probably be running on a queue for the most part), but on certain days I’ll be working on here directly (not a queue’d up robot blog) writing/handling inbox requests instead of trying to do it every day or here and there or whatever I’m doing now that just doesn’t cut it for me.

So my requests will stay open but there will be maybe three (Or four? Idk yet :/) days of the week where I will be answering questions/posting requests/whatever else I write. I think that’ll help me manage my time a bit better and also will give you guys specific days to look forward to for writing/your requests if you sent any, etc. Y’know, stuff like that.

Yes... I think this sounds... good. This is doable. This is me here, right now, speaking this into existence, so I know it’ll work.

#me talk good

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drabblewatch · 8 years ago

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Important Announcement: Haitus

First of all, let me say that I am very, very bad at communicating my negative feelings, especially when I feel that I’m supposed to otherwise present myself as a professional entity (blame my Public Affairs schooling and career, I suppose).

For the past month (perhaps a little less than a month) I have been getting increasingly overwhelmed in keeping up with this blog, primarily in getting through all of the messages in the ask box, organizing through the requests for both headcanons/drabbles, and actually filling said requests.

It’s become increasingly overwhelming to keep this blog updated now that I’m finding my love back in my old crafts, primarily painting and clay work. I’ve done my best to keep this from being obvious in the blog. Add onto this the couple commissions I have left (and will definitely be finishing, goddammit), and the fact that I haven’t honesty been able to write anything for myself for several months (the irony is hilarious, amiright?), PLUS projects from work and otherwise trying to go out more with my suitemate to the mall, shopping and other physical activities....it is quite a lot to handle.

I am so happy to have met all of you guys, and I absolutely don’t want to close this blog, because I honestly think posting at a more casual pace might be my best solution, especially since all of what I post is original / requested content, and I never want anyone else to feel obligated to assist me in it since I’m, well, the owner (and running a blog of this nature is a lot more work than I ever thought it could be, though that is in some light a very good thing, because it means the blog is doing its job).

In order to keep my sanity intact and perhaps find a better rhythm in how I run it:

Drabblewatch will be on haitus for a couple weeks, to see if that helps with some of the problems I’ve been having and give me more time for the other things I’ve been really wanting to do again (crafting, painting, and soon to come cosplay creating).

I know this is a very sudden announcement, and it’s primarily why I don’t want to close it--perhaps simply taking a break might help!

I’m really, deeply sorry if this disappoints anyone, because I know that so many of you guys really love this blog and its content, but I don’t want to accidentally turn my writing/headcanons into something I’d otherwise loathe, because this fandom has really brought me a lot of peace and amazing friends.

You are all however more than free to keep using the Drabblewatch Discord server, and everyone is welcome to follow my personal blog (Darthsuki) and send me messages/asks!

If anything changes, I will make sure to keep you guys updated--the winners of the contest are also more than entitled still to their prizes from me! If I don’t get to you guys soon, please feel more than free to pop into my IM / ask box about it!

#drabblewatch psa #Drabblewatch Update #drabblewatch haitus #haitus #modsuki

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meetmeatthecoda · 8 years ago

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All right well...

... I didn’t think I’d be making any more posts about The Blacklist any time soon but hey, life has a way of surprising you that way (see: the current American political climate). So I have some feelings about tonight’s ep (WHAT ARE FEELINGS I BARELY REMEMBER) and, believe it or not, they’re mostly good! So, in case there’s anybody still out there who gives a shit about this show and/or my opinions about it, here’s a summation of my current state of mind.

Fair warning: This is a long-ass post.

Okay so last week’s ep was complete shit. The whole “WE HAVE A BIG SURPRISE CAUSE OH NO A MOLE WHO COULD IT POSSIBLY BE OH WHOOPS WE SPOILED IT IN THE PROMO BUT OH WELL WE’LL JUST PRETEND WE DIDN’T” fiasco with nary a scene with both Red and Liz in a room together because, what, like that works? Whatever, you get it, it was crap. But I’m gonna talk about THIS week because my sanity is important to me.

So. I actually thought it was really pretty good (I know, how are pigs not flying and meatballs not falling from the sky). As long as you ignore the vomit-inducing Keen2 playing house and “repairing their relationship” bullshit. (That was physically hard to type btw.) There was actually an interesting, if initially slightly creepy, blacklister story, no completely boring post office team shit, Red displaying some very interesting goals and behavior (ohhh, don’t worry, we’ll get back to that), and some actual Red/Liz interaction. Shocker. So, obviously, I’m gonna focus on Red & Liz because.... well, what the fuck else is there? Okay, so.

First of all, let this lizzington rant be prefaced by the fact that, yes, I know Tom still exists, unfortunately, but he is leaving for the blessed spin-off in February hopefully after a Jupiter-sized blow-up fight with Liz that will make him never come back. Ever. This hope is inspired by the stupid, god-forsaken promo that I accidently saw on NBC the other night where Tom says into a phone, “A second chance. That’s all I want.” Didn’t he already get this? You know, when Liz took back her abuser and started a family with him? Why would he need another (fifteenth) second chance? Did the whole “perfect family” thing with Liz fall through? Why, oh why, would that be? A discrepancy about parentage of one little girl perhaps? (second filming in the shipping container anyone?????? Pleaseijustreallywantthattocometosomethingcanyoublameme) Well whatever. I don’t care what drives Tom away so long as something does. So with the spin-off, I’d like to think we’re pretty much guaranteed that, at least for a little while (dare I type it?) So with that in mind, I’m just gritting my teeth through the Tom scenes for now. Okay, moving on. Also because I apparently have nothing better to do than watch this stupid show out of the corner of my eye while pretending to be on my computer and not let this shenanigans affect me at all

So. Back to where we all want to be: Red&Liz. Based on this ep, they seem to be on pretty interesting footing. Liz thanked Red. Maybe it was a bit of a backhanded compliment. Oh well. I think we’ve come to expect that from Liz. At least she mentioned it. I’ll take it. I was, however, surprised by Red’s rather frosty reception. He’s not groveling at her feet for scraps of attention as he once did. As @ihaveyoulizzington graciously reminded me, Red & Liz still haven’t really talked since Liz faked her death and Red was wrecked. So yeah. Some residual hard feelings are to be expected. Since being reminded of that, Liz’s cheerful, friendly attitude is a little ridiculous, per usual. But I think she is trying to be nice, with the whole Red asking to see her new place (CUTE BABY) and her kindly saying, “not yet, maybe someday” (some DAY?! Not some TIME?! Are you SHITTING me?!) and Red’s cute pouty lip and “welp, okay then, whatever” expression. In summary, I think they’re trying. (The puzzle piece was also very symbolic, I thought. As soon as Liz said “someday” and Red accepted that, the last puzzle piece fit right into place. Maybe with that promise from Liz, Red can start putting himself back together again, just like that puzzle. At least that’s what I got from it.)

And now back to Red’s behavior. From the beginning of this ep, I thought that it was a little strange. The first scene or so of the ep was depicting Tom and Liz’s “blissful home life” (a la the pilot) and then they went to Red in that weird all white apartment, freaking out the real estate lady, when he usually goes to such lengths to put innocent non-criminals, especially women, at ease around him. And for the whole ep, he was obsessed with the white carpet and how there was no stain. Red is usually not stuck on one topic for that long. But he just kept raving on about it with a weird look in his eye. I think he was trying to block out the guilt he still feels (and Dembe is still inflicting) over Kate’s “murder” (in quotes bc she’s still alive bc no one dies on this show). This manic, obsessive behavior coupled with trying to complete an all-white puzzle in an all-white apartment throughout the whole ep was, I though, really meant to represent his current mental state. Kind of shell-shocked, not processing everything that’s happened and affected him more than he’s willing to let on, in denial about a lot of his feelings, feeling distanced/never really reunited with Lizzie, and just his ever present mountain of guilt. Just call him Atlas, amiright? Sorry, I’ll stop. So yeah, I think Red is really lost and hurting and it looks like that’s gonna come to a head real soon and I couldn’t be more glad that they’re actually showing that. ALSO, DEMBE. THAT PRECIOUS CINNAMON ROLL. I HAVE MANY FEELINGS. Firstly, when that underling Red manipulated into betraying his boss asked Dembe, “Could you shoot your boss?” and Dembe said, “I don’t know.” WHAT. NO. DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE TPTB. DON’T YOU DARE RUIN THE MOST PRECIOUS, INNOCENT, HEALTHY, AND SOLID RELATIONSHIP ON THIS SHOW WITH YOUR BAD CHOICES. NO. DEMBE LOVES RED LIKE A FATHER AND RED LOVES DEMBE LIKE A SON. DON’T YOU DARE RUIN THAT. I WOULD NEVER FORGIVE YOU. IS2G. *ahem* Sorry. I mean I get that Dembe has some hard feelings about Red “killing” Kate, that’s only to be expected, cause I imagine Kate was the only mother Dembe ever really knew. So I get it. But Red is also the only father Dembe knows and Dembe would never hurt him. Never. It was much more in character and exponentially pleasing to me to see Dembe go to Liz about Red instead. Like yes. That is straight out of fanfic and I’m fucking here for it. And before Dembe mentioned the whole “Red ‘killed’ Mr. Kaplan btw I don’t think you knew g2g bye” I was ALL FOR Liz going to Red because SHE’S THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN HELP HIM and saying, “Red… I’m here. Come back to me. I need you to be here.” Etc. Don’t fucking get me started, I can reference a list of approximately 894 fanfics where this happens and I want to see every single one play out on screen. Anyway. In reality, it’s probably going to be an angry confrontation but I’m actually looking forward to it. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that there will be tension and anger between the two of them because of a NEW ISSUE. NO FATHER DRAMA OR “I WANT ANSWERS” BLAH BLAH this is a new thing that hasn’t been addressed before that has strong emotional connections for both of them and I’m here for that ensuing argument like

Liz: “Red, how could you?! She was only trying to help me! And she loved you! How could you not at least try to forgive her?!”

Red: “She took you from me! I almost died when I lost you and she was behind it all! I cannot forgive that, not even for her!”

Like yes. That’s some good-ass drama and some feelings may come to light and I’m here for that shit. Yes.

Anyhoo, before I get too carried away with that (even though restraint is kind of a lost cause at this point in this endless post), let’s just touch on that promo, shall we? Undercover-thief!Liz. Sign me up. That shit has potential. And with that above argument leading into Liz just snapping, “I’m going undercover. Don’t try to contact me. I think it’s best that we spent some time apart anyway. Goodbye Red.” And then Liz goes undercover to be a younger, hotter, more criminal Liz all while Red looks on with that anger and tension bubbling underneath and he can’t help but find himself even more hella attracted than usual to this especially sexy version of Liz that is all of a sudden a lot more like him. Yus. Gimme some of that, please and thank you. This is practically fanfiction writing itself. I have about 57 scenarios running around in my brain, half that I’ve read in fanfic already and half that I definitely want to read asap. Example: Red not listening to Liz and bursting in on the undercover scene and taking out his frustration with her by introducing himself as her bf or husband or some kind of sexual relation and they get rid of some of that tension by acting sexy for the others cause they gotta sell that fake relationship so Liz doesn’t get made, right? No I don’t have a favorite trope of course not why do you ask Anyway, what I’m saying is this could actually go somewhere, ya know? I’m kinda excited.

Sooooo believe it or not, I will watch next week and hopefully enjoy it. Here’s hoping for a good time. Also PLEASEEEEE for the love of god please let this spawn some undercover-thief!Liz and interfering-criminal!Red sexy fanfic. Please. Okay, thanks bye.

(Also, if you made it to the end of this shit-ass post, you deserve an award. K.)

#The Blacklist #Lizzington #anti-tom #mine #a blacklist post #wow #it's like a pink unicorn #enjoy #if you want #whatevs #i'll love ya anyway #peace out peeps #<3

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