#and that's devastating and also what alternative is there logically like he has NOTHING
Note
what is your take on jaime infant trebuchet threat?
here is my read of it:
I take into heavy consideration how it is contextualized by the preceding chapters and Jaime’s development in general. A very important thing about how Jaime changes is that it is not just about morality, knighthood, honor, etc. He is also noticeably developing in how he approaches things along with his relationship to the self + the fact that he is more conscious: he is confronting things, he is using his brain (everybody please clap)
“His brother never untied a knot when he could slash it in two with his sword.”
Now, because Jaime’s relationship with his idealism, his honor, his self etc. has changed so drastically, this situation becomes a knot. There is no more “most expedient way to achieve my goal enabled through my cynical ‘pragmatism’.” This is a knot that he can’t cut through because that would be going against keeping an oath, an oath that now means something to him again. And Jaime has reflected on his gordian knot approach since his hand loss.
Let’s see what problem the Blackfish poses:
From Jaime’s perspective, his resolve is an iron fortress. There is an emphasis that idle threats do not work on him.
What does Jaime primarily learn from this roast session from Brynden? The reputation that he (and his family) had earned for him will not allow for negotiation. Not with someone like Brynden. It does not only speak of how dysfunctional Tywin’s method is in the long term, but also how Jaime has a persona in the collective consciousness. It is something that will not go away, perhaps ever. He has reflected about how he no longer has the means to cut through his problems in a literal sense, and cutting through this knot in a less literal sense would lead to bloodshed and the breaking of vows (I wanna add that it is also not a simple situation where rejecting his role and abandoning this situation all together is a necessarily clean alternative. Jaime is an instrument of a regime, he is not the ultimate power here, he belongs to the crown, and he isn’t irreplaceable, so it is not like he as an independent force can make Lannister presence disappear here, even if he wanted to. Running from this knot would not fix anything, especially from the perspective that Brynden is doing nothing but a stubborn last stance with no end goal other than bringing as many Lannisters down to hell with him. While the ‘peace’ that he will create here is obviously temporary, and an uprising is brewing, his motivations and outlook in his current position are important. The siege remaining unresolved leads to the suffering of all sides involved, the Riverlands, already devastated by war, is starving, on top of this all being a threat to his family. The Blackfish scoured the country clean and expelled all useless mouths, the siege not being solved also leads to people starving. ) We can see how and why he now has to resort to new approaches, something he has learned previously in ASoS:
Tyrion would find a way. Let us use the cards we have been dealt. Especially the reputation that is used against us.
Also, what do the people around him suggest:
“Execute Edmure. Show that our threats are not idle”
Edmure is the key, is what Jaime eventually realizes, but not like that. What does Jaime do? He does not end up killing Edmure to show his threats have legitimacy to Brynden (part of it is the logical conclusion he makes about how that would strengthen his resolve, BUT he also does not go with a baby trebuchet threat to Brynden. I personally do not think Brynden is coldhearted enough to take that threat lightly (we know Jaime and co’s thoughts are a different matter), especially if he does not view it as an idle one. But the risk of the bluff being called is more present with Bryden, and then Jaime loses all credibility and chances to avoid bloodshed. There is a reason George wrote this how it is. I think we are supposed to scrutinize what exactly Jaime is saying, and to deliberately who.) He doesn’t execute Edmure and then go to Brynden with a baby trebuchet tier threat with the pretense that his threats are not empty anymore. No, he ends up using Edmure.
A Lannister pays his debts, he thought, and you’re the only coin that’s left to me.
He says this aloud. This is not a thought. This is not something he is reflecting upon based on everything that has been going on in the past chapters. This is a deliberate performance people are watching, specifically Edmure is watching.
“Must you make me say the words.” “He forced himself to smile” etc. He seems to have conflict with even getting these words out, because the people that are present, who he seemed to have built a relationship with, and presented the side of himself that is not just his ignoble reputation. We know Jaime has a very complicated relationship with his self concept, he is desperate for self affirmation as well as not being perceived as monstrous. Yet there is no alternative path here. There is a reason George sets this up: in order to keep his vow he has to embrace his reputation and make use of it instead of trying to save it. The part of this speech that I am showing here are Tywin’s words coming from his mouth. Genna pointed out something: (I do wanna say that there are nuances here, I also do not think this means Tyrion is some final villain and as horrible and cruel as Tywin) Jaime is not Tywin’s “son” (also foreshadowed when Tywin disowns him in ASoS: “You are not my son.” I always thought this was thematically significant considering the choices he starts making at that point). The emulation he does is supposed to be inauthentic. Again, Brynden does not care for these threats, but “soft-hearted” (not saying I agree with this sentiment, not even Jaime does as per ADwD, but it is the reputation he has in a classist and violently patriarchal society lol) Edmure does. Everything is set up by Jaime in this interaction seems to rely on this. If Edmure does not give in, the knot remains. If the knot remains, Jaime feels he would have to cut through it to keep his other vow (to his king and family), and if that is the case he is ready to die on the battlefield immediately because he does not really want to live with himself and his lack of progress (“Just more shit in the bucket. Jaime resolved to be the first man on the battlements. And with this golden hand of mine, most like the first to fall.”). Furthermore, I do not see the point of Jaime doing child trebucheting on top of breaking his vow and following up on what he told Brynden that he would do, especially if he feels recklessly suicidal enough over just having to break his vow lol. What would be the point? You could argue that Jaime can be self destructive enough to do it just to put it into stone how horrible he is, and then recklessly die, but again I do not think thats even a necessity for that for him atp. Jaime is not someone like Tywin. He is not about crazy acts of ruthlessness to overcompensate for a lack of dominance. His primary insecurity is not people not fearing him or questioning his authority, it is people perceiving him as a monstrous oathbreaker. To me, him comparing himself to Tywin here did not primarily feel like: “I really showed it to Genna, I am actually Tywin”, it was also a somber observation connected to this specific insecurity (ntm how Jaime views Tywin: “My father is dead as well” “May the Father judge him justly.” Now, there's an awful prospect.) Even if he keeps trying to emulate aspects of Tywin, I think he is aware deep down that that it incompatible with what he wants to be (see the anti-parallels in his ADwD chapter). I also put a lot more weight to Genna’s words about this because Jaime also seems very caught up in “these threats and methods are not chivalric”, not “they underestimate my strength.” (Lady Genna suggested that a few of the men might be put to the question. He refused. “I gave Edmure my word that if he yielded, the garrison could leave unharmed.” “That was chivalrous of you,” his aunt said, "but it's strength that's needed here, not chivalry." Ask Edmure how chivalrous I am, thought Jaime. Ask him about the trebuchet) Not to mention we have to think about Jaime’s main motivation in emulating Tywin.
Another big thing that is informative: Jaime’s guilt over Rhaegar’s children and that he did not protect them from his own father. If he is someone that feels guilt over that in his subconscious post-hand loss, would he really be capable of going through with this threat now? Not to mention the situation with Bran atp: link.
and where are we at ADwD?:
For an instant, the deep red clouds that crowned the western hills reminded him of Rhaegar’s children, all wrapped up in crimson cloaks.
“Is that why you killed all the Starks?”
“Not all,” said Jaime. “Lord Eddard’s daughters live. One has just been wed. The other …” Brienne, where are you? Have you found her? “… if the gods are good, she’ll forget she was a Stark. She’ll wed some burly blacksmith or fat-faced innkeep, fill his house with children, and never need to fear that some knight might come along to smash their heads against a wall.” The moment he reiterates Tywin’s dogma, he is flooded with all of this. His last decision in this chapter is going with Brienne, abandoning his position, abandoning his pursuit of the brotherhood (ntm how he didn’t parallel his father or the mountain and left the smallfolk alone despite them potentially holding information about the brotherhood) and disappearing with her because he is told Sansa would die otherwise, despite Tywin’s very dogma of “dead men and dead sons claim no vengeance.” It is not only treason, it is a risk in general. He is crippled and considerably more powerless, Brienne is injured, and yet they disappear together without a trace.
I think a more substantive criticism of Jaime and the handling of the Riverrun situation, other than a bunch of morally darker actions that he actually takes to ensure he is diminishing the threats against his family, is that he would supposedly forsake his vow for Cat in favor of the vow sworn to his king if he is truly completely cornered, which is the statement that he contradicts in ADwD anyways. (If the Blackfish would not listen, he would have no choice but to break the vow he'd made to Catelyn Stark. The vow he'd sworn his king came first.) This is not what your #kingslaying taught us my guy. Ofc, with Jaime and his narration it is always a bit of a gamble: not a moment later he is ready to say fuck it and die in trial by combat to escape the knot (return of the passive suicidal ideation, even saying that if he loses they lift the siege —the siege is out of his control once he dies so I suppose that lets him escape the vow to his king? still lmao—) And again, we see what vow he ends up prioritizing in ADwD. He started out the chapter thinking he is finally gonna return to his place by his king and son, after completing his orders, his primary vow, but…
It is also his old version seeping through. The one that does not want to face dilemmas. The one that is willing to escape them even if that means death. Again, dying for him is easy, living with difficult choices to make is hard.
“As I was fucking her, Cersei cried, 'I want.' I thought that she meant me, but it was the Stark girl that she wanted, maimed or dead.” The things I do for love. “It was only by chance that Stark's own men found the girl before me. If I had come on her first . . .” The pockmarks on Ser Ilyn's face were black holes in the torchlight, as dark as Jaime's soul.
Here is another thing to note, though. Jaime is also someone who, at some point in his life, was ready to do horrible things to an innocent child, with no “justification” like with Bran. He was so detached from his conscience that we was capable of this. This is at a point where he disconnected completely from his morality, and allowed his disillusionment to enable his behavior. He is aware of this. He starts reflecting on this, especially in relation to his evaluation of his relationship with Cersei. That is why he confesses to Ilyn (who is already a metaphor of the man Jaime became: the Lannister executioner, a sword for death etc etc). This is something that makes his soul dark, as pointed out by his narration. The fact that he acknowledges and reflects on this already speaks of change (not to mention that this confession is contextualized with him switching to real swords, taking Ilyn, a literal executioner, into a forest with no one around, and being like “kill me if you can” right after. I do not think Jaime is very happy or delusional with himself as a person here lmao). We do not learn of this from Cersei or anything. Jaime is the one confronting himself here. Jaime is no longer on autopilot. Jaime is trying to confront things. His moral compass is no longer locked away in his deep subconscious. The question now is whether that moral compass will win over all of his struggles with perception, his internal conflicts of his family facing an existential threat and the deterioration they cause and reinforce, and the ghosts of his past. That is what AFfC is starting to interrogate, along with hammering it home that certain vows will never be able to compromise, with many of Jaime’s delusions being forced to crumble one by one.
#i don’t necessarily think that people discussing the nuances of this is a bad thing either#like i think u can criticize many of jaime’s approaches and actions in these few chapters#what i dont like is ‘redemption man threatened to launch baby?? how can u think he changed at all’#find that obtuse and reductive#jaime lannister#valyrianscrolls#asoiaf#asoiaf meta#ask
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Ikemen Villians Suitor Personalities Based On Their Silhouettes (speculation) (joke post)
❣❣❣ Please don't take this post seriously. AT ALL. I expect to be 400% wrong on all accounts. In fact I hope I'm 400% wrong just so I can have a laugh XD
❣❣❣❣ The silhouette file names have character names attached (got em on the official site). I don't know if they're official names or placeholders meant to throw off nosy people like me, so take them with a grain of salt?
❣❣❣❣❣ Also if their personalities and names have already been divulged, super-ignore this post. I'm writing this as of 11.03. You saw nothing here. I'm just a weird person prone to simple errors.
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William.
The villain-by-circumstance type. Started off as a hero before he became disillusioned. He's a bit of a hard-ass and the kind of man who will see his villainy through to the very end, even if it comes at a huge personal cost (and it already has). His first impression is that he's cold and uncaring, but he's also the same guy constantly saving your constantly-getting-kidnapped ass. Self-taught cook because he's had to feed himself all these years and doesn't trust other people not to poison him. Sleeps naked.
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Liam.
Fun, spunky, spontaneous. The life of the villain party. His jokes are the funniest, and often needed to offset how dark the storylines may get. He jokes about how he's William's "after-image" or "echo" on account of how his name is literally just the last half of William's :') It's hard to hate this guy even though he does some pretty fucked-up stuff if you stop and think about it.
Or he's this game's haughty tsundere, idk.
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Harrison.
Playboy. Is constantly making "jokes" about bedding you. Turns out they really are only half-jokes, because he's very concerned about how much you let your guard down around the other guys. Does not want to admit to himself that this constant form of teasing, something that he considers a blip in his evil grand schemes, means anything more than what it is. Does not want to admit to himself that any room that you're not in feels emptier for it.
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Alphonse.
Kuudere. Elegant but deadly. Aloof but surprisingly warm. He's so quiet that half the time you're not even aware he's in the room before he says something sobering and logical to get the discussion back on track. He wants absolutely nothing to do with you. In fact, it irritates him that all the other guys give you so much attention. What's so special about you, he wonders. His stare is chilling and direct and uncomfortable. He will definitely use his coat to shield you at some point, whether it is from the elements or blood spray or the shock of a group of pigeons taking sudden flight. You've basically won the game if you can get him to smile.
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Elbert.
The wild-card. His fighting prowess is second-to-none. Flagging him for possible yandere. Flagging him for possible tsundere. His, uh, silhouette, makes me think of someone who's quiet and a bit of a loner. Maybe someone who doesn't want you to get too close to him lest you be tainted with the same evil that has corrupted him, forsooth? Or he's got bad ideas for days and a smile like a shark. I can't put my finger on this guy.
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Roger.
Big tol daddy. Reliable to a fault. Definitely gives me villain-by-circumstance vibes, as much as a silhouette with no other information can. If he wants the first thing you notice about him to be his gun, then his primary goal is for you to understand that he's not here to fuck around. He's got a serious personality and he's probably seen some shit. Definitely has/had a little sister. So while he's not above torturing you, he'll always stop short.
Alternatively he's super easy-going to distract from the fact that he's doing some really evil stuff when you're not looking.
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Victor.
Yandere? A man with a dark memory for every year he spent growing out his hair? A smile that is at once devastating as it is... also devastating? Beautiful and dangerously charming in a way that makes you wonder if you're about to be kissed or about to be killed. There are sensual pros and rational cons to being locked in a room with him. His vulnerable side may be painfully precious. It would be hilarious if he was one of the younger characters, but I'm betting he's in the senpai series.
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Ellis.
This dude doesn't sleep and he lives off sugar and whatever else he can pawn off strangers. Half the time he just zombies onto the scene to make a passing comment that makes zero sense before grabbing your hand and taking you off on some equally nonsensical misadventure. That is all just an act, however, because he knows people will drop their guard around him and divulge critical information if they believe him to be a fool. Even then, all his "nonsense" has its own deeper meaning as well.
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Jude.
He's got the "daddy" trenchcoat, which I can only take to mean that he is a "daddy" type. I feel like he and Roger either super get-along or hate each other's guts. This guy's just everywhere. Positively everywhere, lounging like he owns the place. He's constantly offering to make you his partner so you can rule together as an evil power couple. May hide an earth-shattering secret.
Like I said, I fully expect to be suuuuper off on these guesses XD
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Foul - Boxer!Din AU
Definition - To break one of boxing’s rules (i.e. hitting an opponent below the navel, ear or while they are down), which can ultimately lead to point deductions if they are repeated.
A/N: The results of my Boxer!AU poll told me that the majority were interested in a jealous/protective boxer so I hope I have delivered! As always, relaxed fit = unedited, no beta. We also have a sneaky introduction to Paz in the Boxer verse which is super exciting! His concept art has been completed by the insanely talented @ronnieiswriting when I said I saw a mix of Jason Momoa and Winston Duke as our heavy. PLEASE heed the warnings in this chapter. There is nothing explicit but the topics hinted at might be triggering.
Word Count: 7k
Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)
Warnings: SMUT! (unprotected sex), blood and violence, toxic masculinity and derogatory speech, hints at discussions of non-con, somewhat possessive behavior, spanking, dom!Din and everything that comes with it.
Main Masterlist | Boxer Materlist
He might as well have been in hell. A colosseum of decaying humanity and dirt floors that erupted in a burst of dust like poisonous ash every time his next opponent fell. The hollow thump of pure muscle meeting the ground of the makeshift ring only drowned by the cheers of spectators. Masked, shadowed—unseen as they dropped hundreds – thousands sometimes – on which gladiator would remain standing in the end.
He felt like a king, a god among men within the confines of his realm of rope and canvas. It was easy to forget—standing under the spotlights that highlighted the sweat and blood and sculpted beauty of primal masculinity that it was a hollow victory any time he fought in the seedy underground rings of Akiva.
Every gladiator was a slave. Even the victor.
Why the fuck did he think it was a good idea to let you come to one of these fights?
“Enough!”
Paz’s unassailable strength banded around Din’s chest, pinning his arms to his side—attempting to contain lightning in a glass jar. Sweat, blood—it all dripped into Din’s eyes as he growled at his opponent, passed out in the middle of the dirt ring—face swollen and puffy from Din’s fists.
Laser focus and animosity spilled from charcoal eyes as he tried to break free of his friends hold with a vicious yank forward of powerful shoulder and an unfaltering purpose. The bastard had it coming. One round a few punches wasn’t enough to slake Din’s anger, the fumes of rage seeping into his skin and clouding his senses until all he could think of was making the asshole on the ground before him pay.
The practiced speed that Din wrapped his hands slowed at the rowdy group on the other side of the room. Dammit, for all the money they brought in, could these cheapskates not provide separate fucking changing rooms so he didn’t have to be subjected to idiots jacking themselves up on testosterone and false hope?
But pissing contests and fragile masculinity weren’t what caught his attention. He could tune that bullshit out like a fine art. What caught Din’s attention was the obvious death wish one of his possible opponents had – if he even managed to get that far up the ranks to Din – when he waved a red flag in front of the boxers’ metaphorical bull.
“See that one in the front row? You know the one I’m talking about.”
Bawdy agreements and asinine gestures raked up Din’s spine, thorny—and prickling nerves of instinct that made him pause the music blaring in his ears. He fucking hated the scum he came across in these fights. Gang members, criminals—the dredges of humanity he sometimes worried he was part of.
“Gonna get her on her knees choking on my cock before the night is out. Sluts like that love titles, champions—why else do they attend? Good excuse to win tonight, eh fellas?”
“Do you wanna completely destroy your career?” Paz yelled over the chortles and raucous cheers for more, for revenge—for everything under the poor fallacy of a sun that strung in dim, bald bulbs along the notoriously infamous Avika fighting ring.
Din thought you would be safe, arrogantly assuming people would avoid even looking at you once they saw who you were with. And you had been—you were safe, but even he couldn’t protect you from the thoughts of others.
The larger man struggled with him, dragging him out of the ring when it was obvious his words were falling on deaf ears. All Din could hear was the little pricks voice in his head from hours before.
Din stood.
Inhaled, exhaled—tried those bullshit breathing exercises that were supposed to focus his mind before a fight. Help to rein in a temper like his from overflowing in devastating tidal waves to destroy all around him. Din didn’t lose his temper often—but when he did, it was lethal.
The breathing exercises didn’t work.
Because the idiot kept talking.
“Did you see the ass on that?”
Leers sounded from his group of friends. Encouraging the vile words that Din always knew came from a man who felt entitled to a woman’s body. He had seen enough of the underbelly of the world to know what that led to time and again. Din might have been shameless in his youth and even until recently when it came to sex, to one night stands, to women—but he fucking respected the girls he fucked or didn’t fuck.
“Traipsing around in a dress like that? She’s looking for the attention,” the asshole defended himself when one of his party voiced an alternative point of view. They were promptly shut down and didn’t speak again.
Din’s blood turned to ice. An image of you running a hand down his arm on your way to your seat when you parted ways for him to get ready, dress sinfully tight but effortlessly classy—a zip front he was dying to pull open with his teeth later that night.
“It’ll look so good with my cock buried in it…”
The ice in his blood turned to fury, white hot and molten as he tied off the tape at his wrists—throwing the roll into the dingy locker he had been given for the evening. The clatter of noise from where it slammed against the metal back was the only warning he was planning on giving them. The lull of conversation was fleeting, his warning going unheeded—when dim-witted morons didn’t read the murder in his gaze.
Looks like they weren’t nearly as intelligent as the pigs he thought them to be.
Grabbing his water bottle and phone, Din stalked towards the chipped door—distracting himself with a text of “don’t go anywhere alone in this place, sweetheart. Ask Paz to go with you” sent to you without a second thought.
The immediate response of “Yes yes I know, for the thousandth time. Don’t worry and focus on yourself” did little to assuage the roar of blood in his ears. There was only one thing he heard over the noise, one thing as his vision became hued in red and fixated on a single target.
“Wonder if she’ll let me fuck her there too—can’t imagine she’s a virgin but her ass will still probably be tighter than her cunt.”
Bald headed and littered in scars and tattoos of a gang known for their viciousness, the other boxer – if he could even be called that – thrust vulgarly into the air, mimicking the hold he would have on the girl. Din’s girl.
The fucker had a death wish.
And Din was only too happy to play the part of the grim reaper.
His friends voice hardly registered over that same ringing in his ears, the roar of protective aggression at the lecherous sneer on the other man’s face who now lay in a heap in the dirt, the filth he spewed about his masseuse, his girl. How beady eyes, cold and villainous dared to drift away from Din before the bell sounded—over his shoulder, to where he knew you were sitting. Knowing your body had been tainted by the gaze of a man who would sooner take what he wanted from you by force than look at you with anything akin to the respect you deserved—it made something snap inside of Din.
And he attacked.
He was lucky he had only been disqualified.
He was damn lucky no one called the cops.
But the perks of underground fighting, was that everyone who attended had something to hide. And no one wanted to be caught in the middle of shady transactions or betting on fighters to beat each other to a pulp. Hell, the savagery Din subjected the other guy to was exactly what half the fuckers who showed up hoped to see.
Din wasn’t just a nameless street fighter though, not anymore. He had something to lose. Any smear on his record for assault and he would be suspended from tournament participation quicker than the asshole’s body dropped after a crushing blow under the jaw by Din’s right uppercut.
Thank fuck Din’s main sponsor was equally as shady. A good man by Din’s logic, but merciless when it came to succeeding. Din being benched was the surest way to make his benefactors patience run out. No, Paz was right—Boba even more so when he clocked Din good in the cheek after Paz wrestled the irate male out of the ring.
“You fucking idiot, bloodlust is an ugly image, boy—”
“I am not a boy—” Din snapped at Boba, teeth bared and bloody from his split lip, neck straining when he spat the words viciously at his long-time coach. He ran his tongue over the metallic tang of blood before spitting it out of his mouth onto the dirt flooring by the chaotic rows of metal seating.
“You almost killed a guy in the ring, you little shit,” Boba snarled with equal venom, matching the anger reflected in Din’s gaze with furious sense Din didn’t want to witness.
“Let me go,” was all Din growled, eyes never leaving his coach’s even when Paz loosened his arms around his chest. Heaving, coal black eyes darkened dangerously and stabbed the former boxer with a dare to try and restrain him again. The other man shook a rope of dreadlock that had come loose from the strip of leather he kept his hair tied in and made to say something when Din interrupted,
“Where is she?”
Paz closed his mouth, heavy brows furrowing over his eyes as recognition dawned in their dark hues,
“Is that what this is about? Dammit, vod—it’s not like she’s your girlfriend, isn’t that what you always say?”
“Don’t fucking try me tonight—” Din snapped aggressively, the threatening hum between the two men charged to dangerous voltage.
“Din?”
Your voice washed over him – aloe on the burns his fury had scorched his skin with – and he was making his way over to you in the next moment, mind battling with instinct as he ignored the calls and curses of his friends.
Mine.
Not yours—
Mine.
He moved with feral grace, parting the sea of people who bleated from the sidelines but cowered in his presence once his attention was facing them and there was no canvas or rope to separate boxer from spectator. They were lucky. He didn’t see them. Would step on them if they were stupid enough to stay in his path. All he could see, was you—watching him with confusion and concern marring those pretty features, absent of fear in the face of an incensed, adrenaline fueled boxer post fight.
He exhaled a growl as he came to stand before you, the sound cavernous and deep in his chest—the hands you had lifted to examine his face intercepted by his own when he grabbed them. His fingers wrapped fully around your wrists, and he was reminded of how fragile you were – even if you worked out whenever you could and had a will of iron that would make you whack him for saying that – and just how easily a man like him, any of the fighters here tonight—could hurt you.
Never.
They wouldn’t dare.
Not with him around.
But how could they know?
How would they know to stay the fuck away from you?
Knuckles stained with dirt and blood; his hand rasped against the softness of your palm as he dragged you in the direction of the unused backstage waiting room fighters had been offered as a changing room. Where this whole fucking thing started.
“Din—Din, what the hell happened up there?”
You jogged behind him to keep up with his pace, long legs taking him farther than your shorter ones could when confined to the heels you had worn for the night out. He stalked through the dimly lit corridors to the flaky, chipped door with a temporary sign on lined paper with “ATHLETES” scrawled along the front of it like some ironic joke.
He almost bent the worn, cheap metal handle in half—nearly pulled it from its socket with how hard he tore the door open and dragged you over the threshold inside.
You whirled on him with a huff, eyes flashing and hands planting on your hips in growing annoyance.
“Din will you just—”
You didn’t get another word out.
His wrapped hands cupped your cheeks between them, his mouth on yours hungrily when he bent over you. Biting, clawing, desperate—the kiss was more a battle of tongue and teeth than anything else. There was nothing soft, nothing slow or affectionate about the way his teeth sank into your bottom lip so hard you gasped. The way the blood seeping from his split lip painted yours in a crimson rouge—smeared and varnishing you in a visceral mark of his claim.
“Mine,” he snarled unknowingly into your mouth, lapping his tongue along the prairies of your tastebuds, plundering the depths of your mouth to brand every inch of you he could reach. Inside and out. His hands had the same idea, forming down over the shape of your curves as he walked you back blindly to the disused vanity pushed against the closest wall. Topped with a row of mirrors undoubtedly used by performers for whatever this place had once been used for, the glass was now aged with discoloration.
It didn’t matter.
He didn’t have eyes for anything but you as he hiked your legs up to perch you on the edge, your fingers curled into the taut muscles at his neck and clawing down over the sweat slick muscles of his pecs—catching on flat nipples that made ripples of pleasure heat his body further. Mad him tangle a hand in your hair, yank your head back harshly and meet your eyes with dark desire before dropping to your neck. His newest target.
“Din…” your irritated, questioning tone had morphed to fervent sighs. His tongue mapped a trail from the corner of your mouth – tasting the tang of his own blood – to the rapid tattoo of your pulse, a delicate sheen of perspiration beginning to shimmer on your flushed skin from the arousal. Another layer of flavor for him to get drunk on.
So fucking hot under his hands.
So beautiful.
So his.
“Mine,” he repeated into the curve of your neck, framed by tremulous stretches of muscle either side that he carved with scrapes of his teeth to leave tracks of slow fading pink grazes before he bit into it. Your legs – already open and inviting him to settle between them – crossed at the ankles around his narrow hips to keep him close. It was fucking intoxicating the way he could make you feel, the desperate need he had for you.
Months of sleeping together, of knowing his body so intimately had given you a rare insight to his emotions whether he knew it or not. And you knew he didn’t need to talk right now, he needed to fuck. To work through whatever had affected him so badly in hard kisses and rough hands on your soft flesh. It didn’t stop your stomach from flipping at his possessive words though, deliriously spoken but whispering the unacknowledged desires you had for him beyond his body.
“Yours,” you admitted before you could stop yourself, your hand cupping under his jaw to lift his mouth back to yours. His raspy moan at your agreement turned positively filthy when you carded short nails through his damp hair. Din was weak to having his hair stroked, his staunch dominance buckling in violent shivers of pleasure when you dragged those skilled fingers down the back of his skull and neck.
Traipsing around in a dress like that…
His eyes flew open, and he broke the kiss—ripped his mouth from yours to press his forehead to yours, eyes searching while his free hand ran indulgently up your torso to the neckline of your dress,
“Never let anyone disrespect you, sweetheart—” he rumbled, his fingers already undoing the zip of the dress, the nude pink material tempting to the eye and celebrating those features you were most proud of—that he found irresistible to know you loved. That someone could make you uncomfortable in those clothes… fucker. He snarled and pressed a long kiss to your mouth, large hands spreading the sides of the dress open wide – no underwear, baby? – and shucked the material down your arms to leave you bare before him.
His appreciation for your body – fucking gorgeous – was only tampered by the frustration he had with himself at the noise of confusion you made at his words. Of course, you hadn’t heard anything that asshole had said thankfully—but fuck, he couldn’t get it out of his head. You read his desperation somehow, and nodded slowly with puzzled eyes, teeth sinking into your swollen bottom lip as you leaned back on your hands.
So trusting…
Fuck.
It made alarm and something akin to fear rise swell uncomfortably in his throat.
He tried again.
“Never let anyone take advantage of you,” he whispered against your mouth in earnest, his hands running up your bare thighs to press his thumbs into the seams of your legs and hips, “tell me—”
His mouth dropped to your collarbone, funneling those feelings into lapping down to your heaving breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth with a groan and befuddling your mind to his request until he nipped the swollen peak – say it, baby – and caused your head to fall back against the mirror,
“Yes—yes,” you moaned, “I won’t—”
He snarled internally, dammit. Hearing you say it didn’t help. He wanted to say how he wouldn’t let anyone disrespect you, how he wouldn’t let anyone ever take advantage of you. But he couldn’t. Had to frame it like advice he would give any woman he knew instead of speaking it like the promise he wanted to make.
Din had been fucking you for the last few months now, exclusively after only a few months—but it never went beyond that. He had no reason, no excuse to be worried over your life or safety or what you did when you weren’t in his bed. He wasn’t expected to be involved in your life the way a friend or family member was. Not the way a boyfriend was.
He didn’t do relationships. Never had. Too much trouble and frankly—he liked his privacy, his space—and liked not being accountable to anyone but himself. The consequences of any shitty decisions he made would fall on him and him alone. If he demanded that of the women he slept with and then insisted on inserting himself into their lives in the next breath, he would be a hypocrite. And Din hated hypocrites.
He couldn’t.
But fuck. He never wanted to hear someone speak that way about you, never wanted them to think they had the slightest chance with a woman like you. His blood boiled at the notion of someone else’s hands on you, his tempered flared when he imagined your pleasure or smiles, or laughter give to someone who didn’t deserve you.
Like he did?
Fuck no, he knew he didn’t.
He never said he wasn’t selfish though, and he coveted you with sinful greed.
“Fuck me, baby—please, please—” you mewled into his neck as your hands that had started all of this with that first massage, fit into the sliver of space between your bodies to stroke along his cock over his shorts impatiently. His head fell back, and his mind blissfully emptied for a moment, grunting your name at the frisson of pleasure before those damned memories resurfaced again.
Look at the ass on that.
That.
Her. You weren’t a thing, a possession. You were—
He snarled. Misplaced anger manifesting in aggressive passion as he grabbed your wrist from where you stroked him to pin behind your back on the vanity.
“Always so eager, aren’t you—” he grinned darkly when you nodded, “turn around.”
The command was delivered low and dangerous, more a rumble of noise—deep echoes of jungle predators crackling like the kindling of threat, inspiring awareness that one wrong move would be fatal. But you never made a wrong move—not for as long as he had known you. Whether it was alleviating a pain deep in his muscles that had bothered him for months or pushing yourself slowing off the vanity to your feet as you were now—you always knew what he needed.
Wisps of hair fell into his eyes as he watched you—the decided turn of your naked body to dace the mirror—eyes never leaving his even as they caught them again in the aged glass. Bending forward, your ass pressed into the front of his shorts, and you rested your elbows on the vanity.
Perfect.
He didn’t realize he had whispered the word as he pressed his mouth between your shoulder blades, tongue trailing down the arch of your spine while his hands kneaded plush cheeks—spreading them and exposing your slick cunt to the cool air. The hitches in your breath, small squirms of your hips for relief—they all fed into his desire for you.
And he desired you. Constantly.
“I’m gonna eat your pussy until you can’t stand, baby—and then I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t speak,” he muttered against the shell of your ear, massive bulk bowed over your back and shadowed eyes – the duality of warm walnut and lethal obsidian – bore into yours through the glass.
“I want them all to know who you belong to,” he nipped your ear, flicking his tongue along the cartilage—the black ink on his back catching the light as his muscles rippled with movement, a roll of pleasure from your ass grinding back against him with a whimper of his name, “so don’t be quiet this time, sweetheart.”
Your eyes fluttered open molasses slow from where they had dropped closed at his words,
“What—what hap—” you tried to turn your head, the concern mingled with lust in those gorgeous, honest eyes making warning bells blare painfully – too close – and he silenced you with a kiss. Swallowing the worry that hinted at feelings that surpassed those expected from a fuck buddy, he buried it deep inside himself, in the shadows like a coward. To be locked away where he would remain safe from it.
Your tongue grew sloppy with a moan when he ground his crotch into your ass—dragging the solid thickness of his clothed cock between your soaked folds and up against your tight rear entrance.
Wonder if she’ll let me take her there…
Bastard.
He sucked on your tongue with a groan of your name, hand releasing your cheeks to fan up your ribcage and cup your breasts. You jerked in sensitivity when rough hands pinched sore nipples – he fucking loved how sensitive your tits got just before your period. The cry you released was nothing short of musical, tempting him lower as he kissed down your spine—wrapped hands sanding down over your ribs again when he lapped around the rim of your ass, circling it before he traced lower.
You were dripping.
He dropped to his knees behind you, eyes drunken with an ingrained pride that he was the one in this position, looking at the petals of your swollen pussy glistening with arousal he inspired from just a few kisses and rolls of his hips. He kept his eyes on the steady trickle of wetness from your twitching entrance, his teeth grazing distractedly down the back of your thigh as he did so.
A finger ruddy with flecks of dried blood caught a string of your arousal – don’t waste a drop – and he sucked it between his lips with an approving groan, the noise of your whimpers the perfect accompaniment. Blood and lust. The essence of humanity, that was what he tasted when he sucked his finger clean. It tasted like life. And he wanted more.
A sharp crack echoed through the room when his hand came down hard on one cheek, and again... and again—each strike making that dripping wetness gush until he couldn’t hold back anymore. He buried his face in your cunt, nosing at your entrance and tongue spreading puffy lips apart so he could trace in pitter patter swipes through your folds—greedily gathering anything he could get on his tongue before swallowing. Dehydrated on the sands of depravity and sordid company—your cunt was an oasis of relief where he eagerly drank his fill.
You tried to move, your hips slamming up against the edge of the vanity – that’ll bruise – and you keened with a shuddering cry when his mouth simply followed your attempt to escape the onslaught of pleasure that was too much too soon.
“Fuck—fuckfuckfuck—” you gasped, dropping a hand back to tangle in his hair, dragging him closer despite your protests. Mm, he loved when you got like this—overstimulated from the first touch. No matter how much you whined, no matter how many times he wiped tears that smudged your makeup when he unraveled orgasm after orgasm from the knots inside you—he knew you loved the intensity as much as he did.
He spanked you again – take it – your cheeks red and beautiful when he spread them side for him to spit directly onto your quivering cunt. His saliva dribbled and mixed with your juices to gather over your clit, his mouth forming over the little bud enthusiastically, urged by your slow ruts back against his face to streak his face with your essence.
“More—” you whimpered.
“Greedy—” he growled back.
The sound of your breathless laugh meshed delightfully with the swallow of a moan – guttural and primal – and made his cock twitch in his shorts. His hips snapped up uselessly from where he was kneeling—finding no purchase or warm embrace to bury itself in as his tongue took that pleasure for itself.
It licked and curled with practiced, seemingly illogical strokes along your clit and up to your entrance—sloppily kissing it before his tongue dove into your tight depths, thumb working in quick circles over your clit. He knew exactly what to do to make you come undone.
Your first orgasm was sudden—strong and surprising. He hadn’t even fucking fingered you and you were already spasming around nothing. Your muscles tensed as you went on your toes to lean even further on the vanity, trying to escape his tongue that worked you through each wave—drowning you in the pleasure he knew only he could give you. You were his. His his his his h—
You sobbed his name, a raw answer to his internal mantra his mind struggled against and failed to overcome.
Din wanted you.
He wanted your body, your mind, your time—he wanted what Paz had.
Fuck.
The way the older man mooned and gazed with shameless adoration for the little baker he had fallen for in so short a time. Hell, Din teased him over it constantly. And maybe he didn’t want that—but he wanted something. Din wanted something with you. Wanted you to visit him in the gym and stop him mid set just to kiss him and tell him that you would wait for him to finish so you could go home together. He wanted to buy you flowers without having to think of a fucking excuse like last time to distance himself from the sentimentality. He wanted to open his front door and feel our presence as more than just a visitor. That a toothbrush and the stray pieces of clothing you forgot at his place would turn to shoes at the door and your taste in décor mixing with his.
Din wanted you.
But he had no idea how to do anything but fuck you. He didn’t know how to date or be romantic. Was clueless to things like companionship—to the softer emotions he knew you craved. That all people craved. Din had no idea how to do any of it.
You lay with your cheek on the wooden surface of the vanity, eyes half-closed and spacey as you watched him lift his head from your pussy, face shiny from your release and when he licked over his lips, still hungry for more—you mewled.
“Don’t tap out on me yet, sweetheart.”
You shook your head, a whimper and almost childish refusal while your cheek remained plastered to the vanity, all strength having left your body and an adorable pout trying to lie and tell him you couldn’t take any more.
“Mm, yes you can—” he answered you, dragging his mouth back up your slit and along your tight ass where he lapped at the rim again. Later. It took time for him to stretch you to take his size—it was better left for when he had you in his apartment and could take his time.
His hand followed his mouths direction as it continued up to meet your mouth—smirking against your lips at the whimpers you made from the slaps he gave your pussy—the obscene, wet sound filling the area with each slap slap slap until his hand was damn near slipping every time he struck your cunt from how wet it was.
A bang on the door—a harsh slap to your pussy so you would moan just right for him, and he growled out a threatening “occupied” to whoever was outside. You were too high strung to even notice.
“No one else can have you,” he rasped darkly into your temple, his free hand tangling in the strands to pull your head back against his shoulder—the position no doubt edging on uncomfortable with the way your spine and neck were arched back—moUlded into his hard frame. Your eyes fell to half mast even as your lips parted—still smeared with specks of blood you hadn’t yet licked or chewed off—and he bit your jaw in warning.
“No one else—” you parroted, your hot breath fanning over his cheek even as you rocked back against him, a steel confidence entering your fucked out gaze—mercurial in the swirling heat, “just like no one else can have you.”
The boldness of your words, the conviction spoken in that voice of wooden flutes and bubbling creeks made his blood light with fire—yes. As much as he anted you, he yearned for you to crave him in return.
“No one else,” he repeated your words back to you, rutting his hips against you when his cock pulsed with a negligent ache that demanded to be addressed. He kept one hand in your hair when he pushed his shorts down enough to free his leaking cock, the turgid length swollen and angry as he rubbed the tip between your lips.
Maybe he would buy you flowers tomorrow, after all.
Din gave you no time to prepare yourself – that’s my girl – sliding inside you with one brutal thrust that had you pushed up against the mirror and his cock engulfed in fiery bliss. He felt the heat run up his spine, a volcanic metamorphism into marble as his muscles froze in an immediate pause to stop himself from spilling inside you after one damn thrust.
You weren’t doing much better—one hand clawing for purchase on the mirror and the other digging your nails into his hip as you panted his name, an incoherent string of curses and praise as your sensitive walls convulsed around him. The position had him pressed right against that one spot he cock curved up against that could make you see stars and your care for being caught dissipate in cries of ecstasy.
“Baby—fuck please, so—too deep—” you whimpered in inane babbles, tightening in residual spasms from your orgasm and the sudden intrusion of his cock, still a stretch after all these months. Too deep… he snorted, rolling his hips hard to try shove himself deeper still. He could never get deep enough, always wanting more—always seeking to conquer the untouched lands of your body.
“Mm, want me to stop?” he teased, dragging his hips back with a smirk at your immediate rejection of no no no fuck—please, no—hand pathetically trying to drag him closer to you by the hip. Lovely little thing… thinking you were strong enough.
“That’s better…” he purred, relief washing over him when he pulled out—the walls of your cunt stretching around him, refusing his exit, and trying to keep him nestled inside you. The pace he chose was brutal. He fucked you like he fought tonight. Violently, mercilessly—and deaf to the calls to relent. But where he wanted his opponent to suffer, he wanted to devastate you with pleasure, enrapture you with ecstasy and leave you moaning his name where others would curse it.
Wet cock slapping as he pounded into you in short, frantic ruts – need you baby… fuck I need you – there was no time for you to catch a full breath before he was knocking it out of you again. His fingers had to tighten in your hair to keep you up – your body trembling under his as he sank his teeth into the taut muscle at your neck and his cock sank into your welcome body – exposed and waiting for him to litter in his signature.
He would never get enough of the way his marks looked on your skin—the way you decorated him in yours. You were powerless to do much else than accept them right now – likely getting him back later – boneless and weak under the attack of his mouth and the dominance of his body.
He would make sure everyone in this fucking shithole of a place knew who you were with. They would have to be blind not to notice the blotches of poppy bruises snaking down your neck with the elusion to more hidden from unworthy eyes. The smudge of your mascara as tears pearled like crystals in the corner of your eyes when you glanced at him in strung out bliss.
“M-more—” you begged, dropping one of your hands between your legs to rub at your clit—fingers splitting around the girth of his cock as he fucked you to feel the thick length disappear into you over and over, the soaked mess amassed from your frantic desire for each other trickling down your thighs.
“Yeah?” he grinned, breathless and sweating for much more pleasing reasons than he had been in the ring, a languid kiss to your neck as he hiked one of your knees up onto the vanity—spreading you wider for him to sink deeper.
You spasmed, your head falling back against his shoulder with a cry.
“Yes—there, there baby, fuck you feel so good…” you rambled, fingers working feverishly over your clit in wet strokes, grazing his balls every time they slapped against your skin and making him muffle his moan in your neck.
Rolling a nipple between his fingers, his large—bloodied hand completely swallowed your breast, squeezing it and tickling sounds that belonged to him from you and into his mouth when you kissed him. One last kiss before you collapsed back onto the vanity, and he stood to his full height so he could ruin you with his cock.
His name was the only thing you remembered as he split you open with full, hard thrusts—the entire length of his cock stretching your tight walls around it and playing along raw nerves already on the brink of another orgasm.
“Gonna cum, sweetheart—” he strained, desperate for release as he watched himself fuck you in the mirror—him behind your smaller body, squirming under the pleasure while his muscles bunched and relaxed with each snap of his hips—the veins in his forearms prominent and tendons taut as he poured all that training and dedication and determination into you, into pleasing you.
“Inside—inside, Din fuck, please—”
His mind emptied. Nothing else mattered about tonight—not the fight, not the disqualification, not the rage. Your eyes—cloudy with lust and achingly trusting as you looked back at him were all he could think about. Nodding without even realizing, the thought of filling you running in his mind on a loop.
“Fuck—!”
He wanted you to cum before him, he always did—but he was so high strung, so tense that he couldn’t stop himself, burying himself to the hilt with several punched out moans—exhaled rapture with every pump of his seed against your waiting womb. Your eyes rolled closed at the amount, bloating you with his release and as he came, you worked your clit frantically—chasing that addictive edge you gladly hurled yourself over at just the thought of him coming inside you.
Din dropped his forehead to your shoulder with a gasp, your spasming walls too much on his sensitive length but he had to stay inside—the contractions of pleasure, the gush of your release might push his out. He couldn’t have that. So, he gritted his teeth, mumbled husky praise – good girl, that’s it—just like that, soak me – to work you through your orgasm and pressed open mouth kisses to sweaty skin, the salt tickling his tongue as he caught his breath.
His mouth worked over the sweep of your shoulder, up your neck to your jaw when your orgasm subsided, purring your name and nonsensical strings of words he had no idea made sense or not. He finally eased his softening cock out of you slowly when you shifted your hips—testing your strength and finding it lacking when you realized both he and the vanity were what kept your legs up.
“Feel… feel better?”
“Mhm…” he confirmed noncommittally, nuzzling the marks beginning to bloom and darken like a forbidden garden only he was allowed indulge in the scent of. One of his hands ran absently down the back of your thigh, feeling for his release—pleased to feel nothing but your sticky arousal, his own still nestled inside your sore cunt.
“Want one of those crepes you’re always raving about from that twenty-four hour place?” he purred, helping you stand—going so far as to pull the straps of your dress back up so that zipping the metal teeth would be easier. Your eyes brightened despite the lazy, satiated fatigue hiding in their orbs.
“Gino’s?”
“Mm,” he nodded, looking down from his greater height and lips quirking in an annoying desire to smile when one – bright as daylight – broke out on yours.
You nodded quickly, looping your arms around his neck to drag him down to your mouth, kissing him good and proper while his hands fell under the still open sides of your dress to settle on bare hips,
“Are you ever going to tell me what set you off tonight?” you mumbled against his lips cautiously, the ghost of a smile from the promise of dessert still lingering but a hesitant worry entering your gaze, unsure if his mood would sour again.
It didn’t.
He nudged his nose along yours, aquiline curve slotting along yours as he hummed in thought, thumbs rubbing lazily into your hips,
“Maybe later,” he settled on and captured your lips again.
You left the changing room together, his gym bag slung over one shoulder and his free arm wrapped around your shoulder—nose never leaving your temple or nuzzling into your hair with blatant affection as you blushed at how obvious it was to anyone who saw you what you had been doing.
You had both tried to tidy yourselves—cleaning the corners of your makeup and trying to flatten your mused hair was about all you could do. Din didn’t even attempt to cover the freshly fucked look of messy hair and heavy eyes as he pulled an unzipped Mythosaur Gym hoodie on over his muscle shirt.
A group were passing in the corridor as you asked him something—his former opponent with one eye swollen shut from the bruises forming around his eye, jaw, and cheeks. Din answered you easily, an automatic response to whatever you were asking as his eyes met his opponents, cold fury and arrogant pride flashing in their depths.
You remained none the wiser as you passed the group, Din’s body protectively placed between you and them. He probably should have told you; he knew you wouldn’t be swayed by it—comfortable in your body as you were, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He could protect you from slander and toxicity at the very least—and he planned to. Even if he had to do so in the shadows for now.
For himself, the swelling and bruising on the idiots’ face weren’t the only thing he had to satisfy himself with. He was the one whose cum was still buried inside you, clinging to your thighs and keeping you slick and wet for him to add more to later when he got you back to his place. And as you glanced up at him with a disarming smile after he dropped his hoodie over your shoulders without a thought once you both were outside in the crisp air of the early morning darkness—he secretly hoped that he would be the only one to have that privilege from then on.
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Those Four Words
So yeah I JUST finished Desperate Measures and I literally had to get this out before I could sleep.
5.03 Coda | 1.6k | Summary: How I would love to see them get their shit together. Title from the episode, referring to Eddie saying “We need to talk” because YES YOU FUCKING DO. *puts on clown nose*
Buck finds Eddie sulking on the bench in the locker room. Because this was becoming a pretty common occurrence as of late, he takes it on himself to do the best friend thing he always does, and walks in to sit beside him.
The fact that Eddie doesn’t automatically look up at him with annoyance--like he has most of the time Buck has done this in the past few weeks, when they both know what the conversation is going to sound like--is unsettling but not off-putting.
“Hey,” is his opener. Quiet and courteous of Eddie’s obvious pain. Buck’s good at this best friend thing. Had a lot of practice lately.
He gets nothing in reply for long, long moments. He waits it out. Eddie’s a closed-off guy at the best of times, but when he’s hurting, it’s like a steel wall is up between him and the world. Buck’s taken a sledgehammer to that wall a few times and it hasn’t ended pretty. Lately he’s been just simply knocking at it, hoping the man on the other side can hear that he’s not alone. That’s all he can do.
Then, “I broke up with Ana. Like. Officially.”
Buck is quiet for a moment. “Was there an...unofficial breakup before that?”
“I don’t know. Probably when I panicked twice in front of her at the mere mention of us as a family. Think that set off a few warning bells in her.”
Buck very carefully remains silent.
“Well, actually. I don’t know if it did because...she was pretty devastated when I told her it wasn’t going to work. Like she didn’t see it coming after all.”
“What did you tell her? At the official breakup, I mean.” Buck doesn’t move, doesn’t speak above a low tone that barely breaches the two-foot divide between them.
“Not the truth, that’s for damn sure. But. Something maybe close to it.” Eddie still hasn’t looked at him. His hand is half-over his eyes, fingers pressing at his temples like he’s trying to stave off a migraine. Buck’s presence is sometimes migraine inducing, he knows, but he doesn’t think he’s ever done it to Eddie.
...Maybe?
Nah.
Hopefully not.
“What’s...something like the truth?” he asks.
“Basically that I thought I could grow to love her eventually. I tried hard to do that, but...it’s never going to happen. I know it’s not.”
Buck remains silent, waiting.
“She...she’s not stupid. She figured out that what was sending me into...whatever was happening to me--”
Buck very pointedly does not point out that what was happening were full blown panic attacks, Eddie--
“--was triggered by the thought of a future with her. It’s not even that she’s a bad prospect. She’s perfect, actually. In every way except that she’s not... Nevermind.”
“So, she was good with Christopher, right? I mean, you said she was--” Buck’s concern is hard to hide. If she did anything to hurt Christopher or make him feel...any type of way, Buck will be livid. But he doesn't think that’s the case. He even likes Ana. She’s nice, friendly, caring. She’s just...
“She’s just not for me.”
Buck can clearly see this is distressing Eddie to the nth degree, but he doesn’t know how to fix it. He’s never had to save a relationship before. And is that what he should be doing? Sure, he’s great at this best friend thing and he wants his friend to be happy--more than anything in the world--but he’s at a loss as to what the actual problem is here.
“But Eddie, you said yourself she’d make a great mother for Chr--”
“He doesn’t need another mother! He had one, and she’s gone. He doesn’t need another.” The raised voice makes Buck pause for a moment. It’s the loudest either of them have spoken the entire time, and he’s sure it has a lot to do with the Shannon of it all, but...it doesn’t seem like that’s the whole thing.
“I don’t know why I tried to force it. I knew it wasn’t going to work from day one. But she’s just...she was the best alternative.”
“Alternative to what? Eddie, what--”
“I’m in love with someone else! Okay? And I know I should have told her that, but I couldn’t. I can’t even...” he cuts himself off with a huff, but for the first time, he looks up to meet Buck’s gaze. His eyes are shining, but he’s not sad. He’s frustrated. Buck’s learned to tell the difference over the years.
Best friend and all.
He weighs his options, because this is brand new information to him, which is saying something, and he’s not quite sure where to go from here.
Sure, he absolutely knows where he wants this to go, but. He’s also learned over the years that that’s just...not in the cards. Not for Buck, anyway.
Finally, he opens his mouth again. “I...didn’t know you were seeing anyone else besides Ana. Thought you two were, like, a serious thing.” Understatement of the year. How on earth was Eddie seeing someone that Buck didn’t know about? They practically lived out of each other’s pockets half the time.
Eddie huffs out a small, horrible laugh. “I’m not. Seeing anyone. In that sense, anyway. Though we do see a lot of each other. A disgusting amount, if I’m being honest.” The laugh he lets out here is not horrible. It’s almost...fond.
“O...kay.” Somewhere inside, Buck’s heart falters. “So, what’s the problem? Do they...not feel the same way?”
Another huff of a laugh. “Dunno. I never asked.” Eddie’s back to rubbing his temples again, almost hiding his face on purpose.
“Alright, well, that should probably be step one.” Buck can’t keep the hint of scolding out of his tone, but he can see that it makes Eddie smile. “I can help you, if you want?”
This makes Eddie smile even wider, but it turns sad in an instant. “I know you would. But you can’t.”
Buck takes a moment--or several--to consider himself. To weigh all his options and arrive at a logical and sensible conclusion.
Who is he kidding? Buck opens his mouth on impulse, praying to every deity he’s ever heard of that he’s not wrong and he’s not about to ruin everything.
“I can try.” Another small laugh from Eddie in response, a hopeless, resigned one. “Eddie.” When he gets no reaction, he tries again. He really needs eye contact for this, no matter how much he knows Eddie hates it during emotional conversations. “Eddie.”
Slowly, Eddie’s eyes meet his. Buck goes for broke.
“Step one. Ask.”
Eddie stares at him for a moment, no discernible change in his features. Buck’s eyes plead with him. And then, it’s like Buck can watch the switch flip behind his eyes. When he catches up to what’s being said here.
Buck holds his breath for what feels like ages and feels his skin grow cold with shame because he was wrong, he was wrong, he was so so wrong--
“Are--” Eddie begins, strained. Buck’s heart stops. “Are we--” Buck’s sure his heart can’t actually stop twice, but it definitely does at this addition.
His eyes are glued to Eddie’s, though. Like magnets. Pulling in the only direction they can ever go. The way the universe wills them.
Eddie seems to come back to himself for a moment, flicking his eyes to the glass. Buck’s eyes tear themselves away to look at what’s caught his attention. The entire B shift and some of the A are still milling around outside.
“Are we really going to do this here?” is the question Eddie actually poses to him. But, when Buck’s eyes snap back to their target, he sees something that kickstarts his heart again, and he lets out the breath he’d been deliberately holding for the last 45 seconds, give or take. Eddie’s tiny, timid smile seals the deal.
“We could go to my place?” Buck offers. Tries desperately not to think about what could happen. What he wants to happen.
“I need to get home to Christopher.” Eddie’s standing, grabbing his duffel. Buck’s nodding, because yeah, that’s true. He scrubs his mind of the...thoughts that were just playing through it.
“And so do you,” is what’s tacked onto the end, just thrown out there, like it’s the most normal, logical thing in the world. Eddie’s face is still a little timid when Buck looks up, but his own face must give away his heart because Eddie’s smile after that is radiant. He hands Buck his own bag, also giving him a hand up off the bench.
Yeah, his legs are a little wobbly. Good best friend actions, Eddie. Thanks.
Though. Buck doesn’t know if that term still applies. Are they friends? Are they more now? But they haven’t talked about anything so, like, they’re not anything yet, right? But Eddie said he was in love with--
His thoughts halt when Eddie lands a small kiss to his lips, there and gone again in a nanosecond and wow, that had no right to be as earth-shattering as it was, it was just a peck, for Christ’s sake, and--
“Buck. Get your shit and lets go, yeah?”
“Yeah. Yeah, yeah. Yeah.” Smooth.
But Eddie’s smiling. For real this time. Buck will take that.
lbr, the show wouldn’t acknowledge Taylor during this conversation. It’d be wrapped up the next episode and she would storm out and never be heard from again. Definitely NOT how I’d want that to go, but. We all know it would. *honks clown nose*
#buddie#buddie fic#911 on fox#911 fic#eddie diaz#evan buckley#MY FIRST BUDDIE FIC PLS BE KIND#brooke writes
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Febuwhump Day 17
Prompt: truth serum (alternate prompt 1)
Read on AO3
Unpleasant Truths
Anakin opens his mouth to say something but is immediately interrupted.
"Nope," Obi-Wan says with a swift shake of the head that makes a tendril of hair fall into his face. "Not a word, Anakin."
"Oh come on, Master."
"Not. A. Word."
"Do we have anything better to do?"
"Well, no," Obi-Wan says, and then cringes. Anakin has a feeling that wasn't the answer he wanted to give.
Anakin and Obi-Wan sit in adjacent beds of the med bay aboard The Resolute. There was only one private exam room left for them to take up, so they opted to share. While they aren't particularly hurt-- no more than any usual battle-- they were captured and exposed to a particularly potent truth serum. Nobody is really sure what to do with them. Least of all, one another. Anakin supposes his former master figured the lesser evil was to lock them in a room together-- no secrets accidentally being revealed to those without clearance.
However, they don't know how long this serum is supposed to last. They're waiting for Kix to come back with bloodwork.
"How will we know when it's worn off if we don't ask questions?" Anakin suggests. Obi-Wan doesn't look in the least bit amused.
"Because I know you. You're going to ask about things that amuse you or that you want to be nosy about," he raises an eyebrow. "Isn't that right?"
The knight swallows hard, the truth on the tip of his tongue. Of course, he is powerless in preventing it from slipping.
"Yes," he mutters.
"So no talking. We will wait for labs."
"You're no fun," Anakin lays back on the bed and points over at him. "And you know I'm telling the truth about that."
They sit in the prescribed silence for an hour or so before the door opens and Kix comes strolling in with a datapad and a set of IVs.
"Hello generals, how are we doing?"
"Not ideal," Obi-Wan says.
"Bored," Anakin chimes in. Kix looks a tad caught off guard-- maybe not used to them answering so truthfully about their condition. His brown eyes flicker between them before he decides to just give them the report.
"So the good news is the serum appears to be non-lethal. We just have to wait for it to filter out of your systems."
"I assume there is bad news then?" Obi-Wan asks.
"Well... the problem is, it embeds itself into the brain and spinal fluid. I have no way of knowing how long it will be in effect without doing an unnecessarily invasive procedure."
"Well that's..." Obi-Wan trails off, glancing at Anakin. "disappointing."
"Do you have a guess on how long, Kix?"
He seems to wager this in his head. "Six hours? More or less."
Great. There goes my afternoon.
Kix excuses himself, promises to return if they learn anymore. As soon as he's out the door, Obi-Wan lays back, letting his head fall against the pillow, and lets out an exacerbated sigh. Anakin can feel him in the beginnings of meditation, the Force around them drawing into his presence and making it shine like a beacon. And then it releases, and Obi-Wan groans again.
"What's wrong?"
"This blasted drug is muddying up the Force. I can't concentrate."
"Oh no, you might have to spend the next six hours actually conscious," Anakin rolls his eyes.
"Meditating passes the time."
"Talking passes the time."
"Anakin," he sighs.
"Oh yes, what a tragedy to spend time with me."
The Jedi Master looks at him now, his eyebrows knit together. "I like spending time with you, Anakin. Do you think I don't?"
"Well... yeah."
"What could make you think that?"
He bites on his tongue, knowing fully well it won't help a thing. "You... dismiss me. Or seem annoyed by me. Or... I don't know... treat me like I'm still a little kid."
The truth falls heavy between them, and suddenly Anakin wishes they'd stuck to the code of silence. Obi-Wan's face shifts into something that he can only categorize as devastation. Even though it's true that he feels that sometimes his master wants nothing to do with him, he never wanted him to know that.
"Anakin... I'm sorry," he says softly, his eyes trained intensely on him. "I didn't realize..."
"Obi-Wan, don't apologize. I guess... I wanted what you and Qui-Gon had." He remembers fondly the brief memories of a young padawan Obi-Wan and his master. The little looks they had that meant more than they seemed. The inside jokes and synergy when they fought alongside one another. Anakin thinks he and Obi-Wan have some of that. They are two parts of a deadly machine on the battlefield, and they share their own little jokes but sometimes there's just this disconnect. Like he trusts him with his life, but not with the secret of his wife. He doesn't think it's supposed to be this way.
But surprisingly, Obi-Wan stiffens at his comment. Anakin wonders if the serum also makes his body language more readable because he's never seen his master so expressive. "What Qui-Gon and I... Anakin when you told me you thought I didn't like spending time with you, it made me worried that I had grown to be too much like Qui-Gon."
"What do you mean?"
He stares off into space a moment. Obviously fighting against the serum, which only makes Anakin more worried about his answer. Never has he ever heard a bad word about Master Jinn, so he isn't sure what it could have been.
"Qui-Gon and I... had a rocky relationship. He didn't want another padawan, but Yoda was quite insistent. He took me, it was a long time before he accepted me."
"Then... how did you become his padawan?"
"I... well to make a long story short I was willing to detonate a bomb that would kill me but save the agricorps settlement, and I suppose he took that as reassurance I wouldn't let him down," Obi-Wan presses his lips together. "Too bad he was wrong about that."
Now Anakin is sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at his master with confusion. "What do you mean he was wrong?"
"Well, I did leave the order shortly after, which thoroughly shattered his expectations."
"Wait, what?" There is just... so much to unpack in the few things he just revealed. But Obi-Wan looks at him with a face that pleas him to stop. So Anakin relaxes, holding in the urge to ask more questions. "Will you tell me about this when we aren't under truth serum?"
"Yes," he answers. Definitively. Without hesitation. So Anakin nods and sits back on the bed, his head still whirring with questions.
"Can I... ask why you felt Qui-Gon didn't like you? I always thought-- I don't know, that you guys were a team."
He crosses his arms over his chest, focusing on an invisible spot on the ceiling. "We had different ideas of how to do things. That's why Yoda wanted us together. I was an angry and headstrong youngling, and he was a rebel the council needed to find a way to reel in."
Anakin scoffs. "You? Angry?"
A small smile appears on his face. "I packed a nasty right hook in my initiate days. So when I was faced with a Master who disregarded the rules, I assumed the role of the logical rule follower."
"And then you never gave up that role."
"I had punk for a padawan, what else was I to do?"
Anakin looks down at his lap, a small smile on his face.
"Is this why you don't talk about your padawan years very often?"
"The memory of Qui-Gon is... painful. As are many of the experiences I had as a child," he winces.
Well, this is depressing, Anakin thinks, wishing he could ask more but he knows it would be wrong to do so. The mystery of Obi-Wan's past has suddenly been blown right open and he isn't quite sure what to make of it. Left the order? Denied by Qui-Gon? In his head, he had this image of his tiny master, fresh-faced and spouting off Jedi Code at every chance.
"Why does nobody ever talk about that stuff?" Anakin asks, wondering how he's gone over a decade as a Jedi without hearing a word about his master's unusual apprenticeship.
"It wasn't widely known. The council and a few others," Obi-wan stares at him, sadness in his eyes. "But there is no honor in tainting the reputation of the dead."
"But you..." Anakin lets out a shaky breath. "I talked about him all the time. And you never told me?"
"Qui-Gon... was your hero. He saved you, and I- I didn't want that to change for you," he pauses, his face paler now. "Anakin, he wasn't a bad man. He was great Jedi, deeply caring for others and a fantastic master-- I have no doubt had he lived, you two would have made a powerful... and troublesome pair."
Anakin isn't sure what to say about it. He is ashamed of the number of times he was mad at his master and wished a different reality for himself. He doesn't even know the entire extent of whatever Obi-Wan is referring to, but somehow he just... knows.
He's heard rumors before. The story of the Jedi Master who gave up his padawan to train a new initiate he thought was promising. The padawans considered it a horror story to tell when they snuck out of their rooms at night to walk the darkened halls. It took Anakin longer than he's willing to admit to realize the story was about him and Master Jinn's dismissal of Obi-Wan. The way Anakin remembered it was he declared Obi-Wan ready to be a knight and that he would then be free to take Anakin.
Apparently, that wasn't the case. He didn't understand the gravity of the gesture then, and never really thought about it too hard after.
But now... now he thinks about that story again-- that apparently Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had issues in the past-- and maybe there was a lot more there than he even knows.
"When this is over, will you tell me everything, Master?"
"No," he says. No hesitation or waver in his voice.
"No?"
"There are some things I can't tell you."
"But why?"
To Anakin's surprise, he chuckles. "I am allowed my secrets, just as you are allowed yours."
This, of course, sends Anakin into a bit of internal panic. Is he just assuming I also have secrets or... does he know?
"I guess... that's fair."
"When this is over we will rest, and then I will tell you some things about my apprenticeship. And you may ask whatever questions you have then."
He supposes that's good enough. The nice thing about truth serum is he knows Obi-Wan isn't making empty promises. They leave things there for a while, Anakin falling asleep for a bit, and when he awakes, it's Obi-Wan who is surprisingly dozing off. Five hours pass. Anakin has moved to the end of Obi-Wan's bed to lay diagonally across it on his stomach, and Obi-Wan sits cross-legged against the headboard.
"Have you ever been in love, Master?" Anakin asks, looking up expecting a slap to the back of the head for such a question, but instead Obi-Wan smiles a little bit.
"Would it surprise you if I said yes?"
"Is that a yes?"
"Yes, it is."
Anakin blinks. He had his suspicions, but to hear it aloud...
"The Duchess?"
"Yes."
"And others?"
"A few."
"A few?"
He chuckles.
"To love is not prohibited, it is to put such love ahead of one's duty."
He's never thought about it like that.
"Have you been in love, Anakin?"
"Yes," he says. I'm in love, he thinks to himself.
Obi-Wan hesitates a moment, looking down at him with uncertainty that Anakin thinks he knows the source of. He supposes it's only fair, he's dug into his past relentlessly the past few hours but... his wife isn't just his past, she's his present. His future. Though a part of him wants to tell Obi-Wan about her more than anything, a part of him also knows that his knowing will put him in a horrible position with the council. The secret will undoubtedly come out, and he will be expelled from the Order or be forced to give her up. And nothing can make him give Padmé up.
"Padmé?"
Anakin looks at him. The neutrality of his face just makes him more nervous. He looks his former master dead in the eye.
"Padmé and I... are only close friends, Master."
Obi-Wan nods. Anakin hides his stress by burying his face in the comforter.
Well... looks like the serum has worn off.
Anakin decides to wait another half an hour before he lets Obi-Wan know that, though. Just to be safe.
#febuwhump#febuwhumpday17#truth serum#oh look im catching up#or trying#anakin and obi-wan try to talk about things
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SILVER THE COSMIC TIME-JANITOR (or: dude, what's with all the alternate futures)
silver the hedgehog has a very simple backstory. he's a kindhearted, sorta-naive but altogether very driven psychic hedgehog here to save the world by time-traveling to the past (also known as present-day) to prevent the apocalyptic future he was born into from coming to pass!
[ID: A screenshot of Silver from Sonic 06. He’s glowing with cyan energy as he flies over a dark, post-apocalyptic city.]
...wait, if he's time traveling 200 years into the past to completely change the shape of the timeline, how do the stars manage to align such that he manages to be born at the exact same point in the new timeline with the exact same genetics? how are his parents born? does silver have parents?? and how does he do this no less than THREE SEPARATE TIMES??!
hey everyone, i'm tumblr user neutral-emerald here to make good on the idea i vaguely gestured at yesterday and point out silver's wildly inconsistent backstory(s) and then explain to you how this isn't just sega playing hopscotch with the concept of time travel, but actually TOTALLY EXPLAINABLE if you don't mind a whole lot of conjecture and "fuck dude i just think it'd be cool."
LET'S GO.
before i get started, a few things to establish.
first, this is about… half serious, tops. it’s less of a theory and more of an observation of something that’s weird and then throwing some possible explanations at it because i am a massive sucker for time-based nonsense. if you wanna take my observations and build your own conclusions, go for it. i’m not your boss.
second, i'm basing my conclusions off of both the games and the idw comics. the conclusions i draw are applicable to either continuity, but the logic does rest a decent amount on the comics, so just a heads-up in case you were expecting pure game canon from this.
and third, i'm working off like half a brain and very intermittent checks of the wiki and cutscene compilations, so there's probably many things i'm missing! if you notice something i said was wildly off-base, go ahead and correct me in the replies and i'll either edit the post or explain to you just how that detail doesn't actually matter, depending on whether it. y'know. matters.
with that out of the way, let's get into the first topic of discussion!
part 1: the future is inconsistent, y'all
now, i'm not sure if you've heard, but in the year 2006 sonic team released this little indie game creatively entitled Sonic the Hedgehog. it was a smash hit, won countless awards, and for some reason went down in history as a messy, incomplete bugfest. but that's not what matters. what matters is that it introduced Silver the Hedgehog.
silver hails from 200 years in the future. the world is a bleak, fiery place, and has been since the monster iblis was unleashed after princess elise's death. silver was born into this world, which we know since it's literally the first thing he says in his story.
[ID: A cropped line from Silver's story in Sonic 06. "This world was devastated before I was born."]
i'm not going to drag you through a beat-by-beat summary of the entire plot of sonic 06, you should know it already. silver meets mephiles, gets lied to about who caused the apocalypse, mephiles yeets him and blaze into the past, he tries to murder Sonic the Hedgehog™, and so on. eventually he helps kill god, and then sonic and elise travel further back in time to kill god even deader so that none of the game ever happened, and the bad future into which silver was born never happened, thus thoroughly scrubbing silver's existence from the timeline!
...until.
sonic rivals.
i'm not going to speak much on sonic rivals, mostly because i'm not super familiar with it. but what matters is that silver is back! he's still from the future, he's still here to change the past, and most importantly he wasn't deleted from existence by the destruction of solaris, unlike everything else from sonic 06 including everyone's memories of it. and obviously, whatever state his future is in, it's not the same as it was in sonic 06.
now, i don't have a single clue what is going on in rivals 2, so do inform me if there's some big information i'm missing from that one. all i know is he's fixing yet another possible apocalyptic future, like always. correct me if i’m wrong, i don’t have the patience to trawl through it myself.
then we've got sonic colors, in which silver is again from the future. notably, he’s definitely not from an apocalypse!
[ID: Some screenshots from the DS version of Sonic Colors, again cropped to just the text. Tails and Silver are talking to each other.
Tails: What's the future you came from like, Silver?
Silver: A lot brighter than this.
Silver: The sky is blue, and everybody's got a smile.]
sonic generations doesn't add much. again, correct me if i'm wrong, but i don't think we learn anything about what kind of future silver is from, and he's definitely not here to fix it this time. that's sonic's job! he's just hanging out like everyone else.
now, up until this point the future has been reasonably consistent, setting aside my somewhat abstract understanding of the rivals games. there's nothing to say that silver's not coming back in time from the same point in a single timeline, which is the one and only version of the future ever since the destruction of sonic 06.
UNTIL.
[ID: Two panels from the comic Sonic Forces: Stress Test. In the first panel, Silver looks worried as he lands in front of Knuckles, who looks skeptical.
Silver: We've got big trouble! Eggman—
Knuckles: How can you be here? I thought you returned to the future?
In the second panel, Knuckles looks away with a self-assured grin, while Silver looks more panicked.
Knuckles: Oh wait— I must be dreaming!
Silver: What? No! I've come back with a dire warning from the future!]
i have a lot of issues with sonic forces, especially with how its story is written. something i do NOT take issue with is the supplemental comics, mainly because they are WONDERFUL evidence for my crackpot time travel theory.
like i said, up until this point we don't really know whether silver has been experiencing separate instances of the future, or simply traveling back in time to prevent an also-time-traveling eggman nega from messing things up in the past. but here, we get some very juicy information:
[ID: Knuckles and Silver again. Knuckles has his arms crossed and is looking at Silver, who has a nervous look on his face as he slams a fist on the palm of his other hand.
Knuckles: Come again?
Silver: Something happens that brings the world to ruin! But the historical records are sparse or make no sense. I came back to hopefully head off whatever's about to happen and save the future.]
silver travels back in time to prevent a terrible apocalypse. this is not the beautiful future silver came from in sonic colors— but this is the same silver. everyone recognizes him. he recognizes everyone. and yet, the future he came from is different.
part 2: silver is a walking paradox
allow me to remind you of what i pointed out when i was talking about sonic 06. silver was born into the iblis-apocalypse. considering no elaborate timeline nonsense happened to him before the events of the game (by his reckoning) i think we can safely assume he was born like a regular person with parents.
in the first post-06 timeline, silver was probably also born. let's be charitable, acknowledge that sonic team doesn't overthink the butterfly effect like i do, and say that silver was born to the same parents, because the universe likes to keep things nice and simple and contrive itself to make this particular character exist in this time period.
so, it's entirely fair that silver comes to exist in a post-06 timeline at the equivalent point in time, aka 200 years in the future. it's also fair that he travels back in time to prevent some kind of apocalypse, because that's his narrative role! it's what he does. when it's time for him to exist in the story, that's what he's there to do.
what isn't fair is the fact that it keeps happening.
[ID: A panel from the IDW comics. Sonic is stretching his legs while looking faintly exasperated at Silver, who is nervously holding his arm.
Silver: Er… No. I came back because defeating Eggman didn't save the future.
Sonic: Couldn't even play along. Had to bring the mood down.
Sonic: *sigh* Okay, what happened this time?]
[ID: The following panel, cropped to just Silver's text bubbles narrating over a starry sky.
Silver: When I left, my time had been conquered by the Eggman Empire. Everyone lived in fear, choking on polluted air.
Silver: When I went back, the Eggman Empire was gone— but so was everyone else.
Silver: There was nothing left. No people, no animals, no machinery. Only water and sparse, metallic plant life.]
allow me to summarize my understanding of all this: silver is from the future. normally, the future is good. sometimes it isn't. when it isn't good, he goes back in time and fixes things, then returns to the future to check if that fixed things.
the least conjecture-y interpretation i can come up with is that sometimes silver will go into the past, then go back to the future but end up in a Bad Timeline and thus go into the past again to fix things. there's no weird warping directly between bad timelines, he only gets there by way of the past.
but that's boring, so here's my PREFERRED interpretation.
silver hails from a good future, but sometimes it just changes. he's unstuck from time— if something weird happens in the past, he's the only one to know that the passage of fate was changed, because he went to bed in one timeline and woke up somewhere categorically worse, and the only way he can fix it is by figuring out just what caused this and going back in time to fix it.
or, to say it in a meme:
[ID: A picture of someone lying in a hospital bed with a nurse standing next to them, edited so that Silver is in the bed.
nurse: sir… you've been asleep for 2 hours
silver: oh boy i can't wait to wake up in the same timeline i went to sleep in]
part 3: how did this happen?
it's one thing to point out that silver doesn't experience time like a normal hedgehog, and another thing to explain how and why this happens.
fyi, this is the part where i go wildly off the rails and start saying whatever i want. there's a ton of explanations one could come up with, most probably stemming back to sonic 06. i'm just going to go with my own, and probably not come up with a whole lot of concrete evidence because i'm just spitballing. this is me having a fun time. going "heeheehoohoo time traveling hedgehog go brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr"
so. something i haven't touched upon is that in all games after sonic 06, silver can time travel. we never see him do it, it's never explained how he does it. all we know is that he's doing it under his own power.
which is kinda odd, don't you think? should he be able to do that?
in sonic 06, we see three mechanisms for time travel. first is the chaos emeralds. if two people perform Chaos Control with a chaos emerald apiece, they open up a swirling rift in the air which can send them to different points in time and space. silver can't be doing that, for obvious reasons— he's only one hedgehog, and he's not exactly running around with a chaos emerald at all times. that can't be how he does it.
second is a time machine eggman built. that obviously can't be it; the machine doesn't exist at all after the timeline gets wiped, and again, silver is doing this on his own. he's actively antagonistic towards eggman, even. absolutely not this one.
third and finally is mephiles, who can make big purple orbs to take himself and passengers to different points in time. this obviously can't be it either, for similar reasons to number 2, right? after all, mephiles is one half of solaris, who was destroyed before he could be split off. he doesn't exist to be silver's time-traveling uber driver.
...right?
well, obviously. i'm not going to try and tell you that mephiles is secretly alive and shepherding silver back and forth between timelines for no reason. that's ridiculous. no, i'm going to try and tell you that silver is mephiles.
or rather, he's solaris. or RATHER, he's the new solaris, sorta-ascended to the role of Time God after the old one got blown out like a birthday candle.
like i said, i'm going wildly off the rails and as such don't have any concrete evidence to explain why it's this instead of something else, but hear me out. after elise blew out the flame of hope, the universe was left in an interesting situation. someone needs to be in charge of the flow of time, but the previous time-god was just unceremoniously destroyed. but all the power and energy of a time-god has to go somewhere, in some form, in some time.
with nothing else to go off of, the role of time-god starts flipping through every notable being it had interacted with. they're all solidly accounted for in the timeline, except for one. silver the hedgehog was born into a timeline that cannot exist. silver the hedgehog does not, and cannot exist. silver the hedgehog interacted quite a bit with both sides of solaris— he spent a substantial amount of time fighting back iblis, and associated with mephiles, even being one of the few people to directly experience his time travel abilities. silver the hedgehog tried and failed to absorb iblis into himself.
here's my theory: after sonic 06, the universe reasserted itself such that silver was the new Solaris. silver is not consciously aware that this is what he is, but he knows that he can time travel. sometimes the timeline will rearrange itself around silver. he is unaffected by this because he is a higher being unaffected by such petty trifles as "an origin" or "paradoxes".
silver the hedgehog probably doesn't have parents. he sprang into existence one day and everyone just kind of went with it, himself included.
oh also something i thought was neat but couldn't think of where to put:
[ID: More cropped dialogue, this time from Team Sonic Racing.
Silver: I'm fine. It's just, something bad is gonna happen. I can't explain it. I just feel it.
Blaze: Have your travels through time given you precognition?
Silver: I don't know. Maybe they have. Or maybe I'm just thinking too much.]
silver might be becoming psychic in a future-vision kinda way. that, or he’s riddled with anxiety. possibly both.
TL;DR
silver hails from no less than three separate timelines, his existence is a tangled web of who-knows-how-many grandfather paradoxes, and i choose to believe that he's god.
if anyone who cares more about evidence wants to gather up like, little one-off clues that support or conflict with my conclusions, go right ahead. or just throw your own arbitrary headcanons for what's going on with this at me. or incorporate these ideas into an au or something! i just want more people thinking about what the Fuck is up with silver post-06, because by god there is a WHOLE lot of potential packed in there
anyway thanks for reading make sure to like comment and subscribe—
#hey guys check out how hard i can gesture at a corkboard#is it remotely coherent? not a clue! i cannot process my own writing#sonic theory#silver the hedgehog#text#dot txt
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RWBY Rewrite: The Relics
Hello there everyone! I’m back with another post on my Rewrite series that hopefully will delight you.
Admittedly, this might be an odd topic after my last post. Well, that one was pretty big and I wanted something a bit smaller to tackle. I had thought about getting into the White Fang next, but that post is going to be a dozy and then I thought of the Relics. And I thought “Sure, that’ll work.”
The Relics, in my opinion, were handled poorly in the show. Items that can grant great power and when collected something amazing/terrible have been done before and done well (which is honestly true a lot of stuff in RWBY). In RWBY, we didn’t know the Relics existed until over halfway through Volume 4, reduced the Maidens to essentially gate keys in Volume 5, and even at the end of Volume 6 we only know what the lamp can do on its own. I mean come on, Dragon Ball took one episode to explain its titular item (granted they were a lot more simple, but still)! So we’re going to tackle these things.
Now before we get into the individual items, let’s address some things that about the Items as a whole.
The first thing to note about the Relics in this Rewrite is that gathering the four together won’t summon the Gods back to Remnant. The Brothers in this Rewrite are much more distant figures, preferring to observe their creations rather than directly interfering.
So then, why does Salem want to collect them? The full reason will be in her and Ozpin’s backstory post, but to put it simply Salem has a more personal history with the Relics here and wishes to get them back. She views that leaving them in the hands of mortals will just lead to them abusing the items, causing more pain and suffering for the world. Not an entirely baseless viewpoint as we’ll get into soon enough.
The next thing to note is that before the Relics were under the care of the Academies and Ozpin’s group, each was possessed by a former Royal Family. Vale had Choice, Mistral had Knowledge, Vacuo had Destruction, and Mantle had Creation. Granted as time passed and certain things were failed to be passed on, by the time of the Great War only the Crown of Choice’s abilities were known and even then only to a select few.
Each Relic will have a have a spirit that will be involved with the item’s power. I’m not sure whether it was said in RWBY after I left that each Relic had a spirit or whether Jinn was an exception, but I’m going to roll with the first one. Also, each Spirit technically doesn’t have a biological sex, they choose how they want to look.
Also, only the Lamp will have the blue glow. The other Relics will associated with the color of their kingdom: the Staff having a White crystal, the Sword having an Orange gleaming blade, and a Green jewel in the center of the Crown. They can still have the gold, but this will make them more distinct from each other.
Finally, they are NOT the major Grimm magnets as presented in the original show. While they do give off a sort of a signature that Grimm can recognize, it’s a faint one. It would attract Grimm attention if it stayed out for too long in the wild or Grimm would be looking for it in an area if Salem directed them personally to it.
All right, now let’s get down to business!
Knowledge: Jinn
The Lamp of Knowledge is the only Relic we’ve gotten to know it’s full abilities as well as meet its spirit. Even then, I think that three questions every a hundred years is maybe a little too limited for something that is a power of the gods. So, I’m changing it.
Instead of granting three questions within a certain time frame, I like the idea of giving anyone who uses the lamp the ability to ask Jinn one question of the past and present. Everyone is entitled to knowledge after all and they should determine how they want to use it. I know, I kind of stole the idea from the scepter from the direct to video Aladdin King of Thieves, but I think it’s a good setup. It’s powerful, but it still has limitations. This will contrast with its opposite the Crown, which will be more exclusive and deal with the future.
Then there’s Jinn and am I the only who thought her design was lazy? I mean we get it, she’s a genie, but there’s nothing interesting or unique in her design. Pretty sure comparisons to Aladdin’s Genie and Magi’s Paimon have been made. I’d leave her redesign to someone who is fully capable of putting a new spin on it, but I would like the idea of her not having a consistent wardrobe. Maybe have her wear a top that was similar to something found in Central Mistral while wearing a hairpiece you would identify being at home in Eastern Mistral. Not only would this symbolize how multicultural Mistral is, but also how history is made of many different parts.
Now Jinn herself wouldn’t be that different of a character from canon. She would still be a rather pleasant, teasing spirit who is quite thrilled to finally be out of the Vault again. Amongst the Relic spirits, she’s probably the one who has the least regard for mortals, but that’s partly because of what people usually use her for. Most people would ask about power, riches, dark secrets; it got kind of boring and predictable for Jinn and it was less pleasant when they would get mad at her for telling them truths they didn’t want to hear. Let’s just say a few rulers of Mistral that used her Relic didn’t use it very wisely.
Jinn’s favorite type of petitioner would be someone like Oobleck: someone who would ask her about some part of history that doesn’t have much known about it and she doesn’t get to talk about nearly as much as she’d like to so she actually goes into more detail than necessary. She’d also respect someone who probably knows the answer she’s going to give them is not one they want to hear, but is resolved to face the truth whatever it is.
Creation: Eve/Ev
The Staff of Creation is a bit interesting in that works better for some than others. It uses what a person pictures in their mind to bring what they want to reality, within reason. So it really works best with someone very creative and has a clear vision of what they want to do. It can’t create something that’s alive (like a dog) or that had been living (like someone who has passed on). Also, the more detailed and involved an item is, the longer it will take for the Staff to recharge. For example, the little crystals (which are basically a crystallized form of the staff’s power) Ironwood has been creating as an alternative energy source would take a couple of hours to a day depending on how many were created at a time. Whereas a huge detailed palace would take decades to over a century, longer than it would have taken them to build in real time.
Eve is the Spirit of Creation and would have a rather androgynous appearance. I was also thinking that the Spirit could be called Eve or Ev depending on who’s addressing them. Their main color would be white, but their appearance would resemble that of artist. Perhaps having smudges of charcoal on their face or a splattering of color on an apron. I think it would be really ironic that the kingdom that banned the arts at one point would have a Spirit that is quintessentially an artist, heck Eve might have locked up during that time and forgotten about until after the war was over. Again, I’d leave the design to someone who is much better suited for it.
Now in this Rewrite, the Staff is no longer in the Vault because Ironwood took it out. He reasoned that having a powerful tool that could be used to in the fight against of Salem would be wasted simply being left in the Vault. Needless to say, Eve doesn’t like the way Ironwood is using them. It’s clear the power is just a means to an end to him, something he can use to make Atlas more secure. There is no love or passion for what he’s creating and he treats them with no courtesy or respect, not listening at all when they try to talk to him. When Watts eventually comes to retrieve the Staff, Eve is basically “Oh thank the Brothers! I could care less about your plans, just get me out of here!” It’s sort of a summary of what partly causes Ironwood’s fall: the inability to get that people aren’t purely logical beings that will do what they are told for the greater good, but emotional irrational people who will snap when pushed too far.
The best person Eve could work with is someone who specializes in the visual arts: painting, sculpture, architecture, etc. Someone who has a very clear vision and obviously very passionate about the things they want to create. Eve would also enjoy someone who is perfectly okay if they don’t get their creation exactly right on the first try and is more than willing to take Eve’s advice/criticism.
Destruction: Adamou
The Sword of Destruction is perhaps the easiest Relic to understand and use. Using the sword will increase your physical abilities and the sword can send out waves of power that can devastate a group of foes or alter the environment. However, using it takes quite a bit of energy. Best case scenario will involve a week of recovery. Worst case scenario you expend years of your life. Even the King of Vale with all his power, lost two or three years he should have had to live on that Final Battle of the Great War. This cost was so great to the old Vacuo Monarchs (and given that most of their past was peaceful) that it was hidden away and forgotten about until the Great War happened and the last King of Vale rediscovered it.
I’m still little unsure of how I would like Adamou, the Spirit of Destruction, to look like. The closest example that comes to mind is something like Nemesis from Fire Emblem Three Houses: a large older battle scarred man with light armor. Once again, I’m a writer and not a character designer so if anyone has ideas I’d be willing to see them. That being said, his name is actually a West Africa variation of the name Adam, putting him in contrast to Eve. Anyone who has a passing understanding of the Old Testament should probably understand what I’m doing here.
Adamou, despite his outward and intimidating appearance, is actually a pretty easy going spirit. He’s also somewhat disappointed in how he doesn’t get used as much compared to his brethren, but he does understand why and has great respect for the old rulers of Vacuo for doing what they did. He enjoys a good fight, but he also enjoys competitions of all kinds whether physical or mental. You could talk him into a little kiddie board game and he’d go at with as much glee as slaying a hoard of Grimm. As the Spirit of Destruction, he knows better than anyone that life is finite and it’s best to live and fight to the fullest until your time comes.
Adamou would gravitate to people like Yang or Pyrrha: those who enjoy combat and wish to live their life to the fullest. Those who’s spirits burn bright even if it means they burn out quicker. That said, he also respects those who fight to protect those they love and things they believe in (to an extent, he’s not fond of fanatics who would give their lives away without a second thought for something obviously sketchy).
Choice: Caesar
Whereas the Lamp reveals the past and present, the Crown of Choice is focused on the future. Those who wear it have the ability to see the possible outcomes of any choice they face. As such you can see what the cost and consequences of your options. That being said, it’s not a hundred percent as the future is always in motion and there’s no telling how other people’s actions and choices may affect what you decide. Still, the predictions do tend to be very accurate. There’s also the possibility that wielder may obsess over said choices or may become dependent on the Crown, but that has happened very rarely since Caesar usually stops their wielders before they go too far in this.
The thing about the Crown is that unlike the Lamp, it can only be used by one person. When its user dies, the Crown is free to be taken up by another and once it has bonded to someone they are bound for life. Now the Crown can be lent to another person, but every wielder can only do so once in their lifetime and those who borrow it can only use it for three days. On the fourth day, the crown will tighten around the person’s head, giving great pain and hallucinations, and will only stop if that person takes it off at which they can no longer use it.
Seeing the obvious issues of such a powerful item potentially falling into the wrong hands, the first King of Vale came to an agreement with the Spirit Caesar to set up a trap/test to anyone who would try to claim the Crown. The Crown would be placed in a special chamber when not in use with a multitude of different crowns and circlets in the room. It’s up to the person to choose the right crown with no outside input. Get it wrong and the crown will turn to ash and that person is forever barred from taking the Crown. The twist? The true crown’s appearance in the trial is in fact not a crown, but a wreath of laurels (which can be seen on Beacon’s symbol). And if you’re thinking this sounds quite a bit like the scenario from Indiana Jones and The Last Crusade, that’s cause it is as its kind of the sort of trial you’d find in a fable or fairy tale. It would take either a very thoughtful and self aware person to pass the trial as well as one not greedy. It’s also made a little more complicated as the Crown looks slightly different for each of it’s wielders, which will be noticed in an earlier scene with our group of heroes in a hall of portraits of the past monarchs of the Vale. Because that is what determined who would succeed to the throne of Vale.
And yes, we will learn a lot more on this when I do the King of Vale Rewrite Post.
As a result of the nature of Crown, Caesar is the spirit that is the most close to mortals as they build a strong personal relationship with their users. As part of this, when a new wielder is chosen, Caesar will take upon the appearance of their predecessor to guide the new one. I’m still a little torn over whether Caesar should appear as the old wielder when they first took up the Crown, in the peak of that person’s life, or how they looked when they died.
Caesar, for the most part, acts as a sort of advisor to their wielder. That can come off as them acting very parental which given how often the Crown would pass from parent to child is quite fitting. They will give advice when asked for, but in general will advise against using the Crown’s power if its a situation their user can more than handle on their own. They are very much the type of person who would advocate that “It’s the journey, not the destination” and is more than willing to let their wielder fail if it meant they could learn something from it. That said, they do get very attached and is probably the only Spirit that would openly speak positively about Salem due to her history with them and also has issues with Ozpin. They and Jinn will be the ones to eventually give the more specific details to group about Ozpin and Salem’s history after they got the general outline elsewhere.
Caesar has worked with many different types of people, but the main thing they each had in common is that they were the type of people who were always concerned with the consequences of their actions for those around them and the kingdom of Vale as a whole. They generally work best with someone who is humble and empathetic. However, they generally don’t like someone if they put a singular goal above everything else without consideration of all the consequences (again, issues with Ozpin).
Well, that turned out longer than I was expecting it too. I guess I just got into the creative juices. Anyway, I think I’ll do a different post before coming back to do Cinder. And just as a reminder people, I dropped this show at the end of Volume 6 so don’t bring up anything after that to me in a comment.
See you soon!
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Rambling about V3 Again
Today I saw a really interesting quote from author Brandon Sanderson and it honestly got me thinking. He talked about what he considers the single worst thing you can do with critique in writing, and that’s if a critic “tries to make your story into one they would write, rather a better version of one you want to write.”
That got me thinking about V3.
I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that V3 is a very polarizing game, and I’ve seen many people talk about how they would’ve preferred to see the story play out, from character arcs to deaths to story conclusions. And while I do honestly enjoy seeing alternative perspectives and takes and AU’s, I feel like a lot about the game, what it’s trying to say and be, is skewed by those ideals.
I’m not saying that the critiques about the game are invalid, because there are a fair share of flaws with the game. What I am saying is that we end up talking so much about what we wish V3 could’ve been that what V3 was trying to be often ends up lost in that, and I want to talk about it.
It wasn’t until I really saw this quote that I was able to articulate all my likes and dislikes about the game and the reactions to it into a cohesive whole, which is what I’d like to do here.
So let’s ask this: what was V3 really trying to be?
Let’s start from the game’s theme: the relationship between truth and lies. This is best exemplified by the fact that you have the option to lie during trials, that you can use deception to find the truth. That’s a very different take from the previous games, where hope was associated with finding and confronting the truth.
Kokichi is another example, as he’s a self-admitted liar who claims to lead a criminal organization and it’s hard to tell exactly what he’s thinking or saying. Yet Kokichi actually helps bring the group to several truths: he helps find the culprit in trials, he reveals Maki’s identity as the Ultimate Assassin, tells the truth about Gonta murdering Miu and it’s thanks to his actions that the group later discovers the reality of their situation.
Throughout their journey, the group is confronted by numerous truths they don’t want to acknowledge, even refusing to do so and attacking people who continue to push them through. And with every revelation, there’s always those lingering details that don’t really make a lot of sense.
Let’s look at the game’s main narrative. At the start of the game, Kaede remembers she was kidnapped in broad daylight, thrown into a van, and brought to some abandoned school with a bunch of other people. She doesn’t act like a particularly nice person and is dressed differently, at least until the Monokubs arrive and give everyone their new clothes and memories. From that point, the narrative shifts considerably.
Kaede is suddenly an outgoing, optimistic leader and Shuichi is a sullen, withdrawn detective who serves as her deuteragonist for Chapter 1. She’s resolved to escape the Killing Game and tries to rally the group together. However, when her methods don’t prove successful and they start drifting away from her, she considers saving them by any means necessary and goes so far as to attempt murder against the mastermind. When that happens, she’s found guilty and executed, leaving Shuichi to take up her role as protagonist.
As you go through the game, using devices called flashback lights that apparently reawaken lost memories, you learn more and more about the reason that the group was brought here: the Gofer Project. When meteors began raining down on earth, all seemed lost until they established this project to send a group of survivors into space to colonize a new planet. A group of Ultimates.
They had established early on that Ultimates have even greater rights in this world: they’re the only ones allowed to vote and hold office. As the meteors came down and the news of this project got out, some people formed a cult that believed it was divine judgement and that mankind should be destroyed. That’s when they began the Ultimate Hunt, pursuing the candidates for the Gofer Project across the world. The Ultimates, with no other way out, decided to erase their memories of talent and live their last days as normal people.
To protect them, the people in charge spread a false story that the Ultimates had died, even holding a fake funeral for them and sent them into space secretly. However, while everyone was in cold sleep, one member of the cult- Kokichi- had sneaked aboard and piloted the ship back to the ruined and now inhospitable earth. They have no way back and no way to survive outside, and thanks to Kokichi’s claims to be the mastermind, they’ve been killing each for nothing. The group ultimately loses hope.
However, they’re resolved to continue on in their fight against the mastermind when they find a flashback light that reveals they weren’t just any ultimates: they were the next generation of ultimates from Hope’s Peak Academy. It wasn’t really the meteorites that got everyone, it was an alien virus that pushed mankind to the brink of extinction. That the cult that rose in the wake of this was Ultimate Despair.
That seems like a definitive way to link this game with its predecessors...until you really begin to stop and pick it apart. If this was about saving mankind, why did nobody have their memories right away? Why would you only bring 16 people? Why students who don’t make them suited to colonization? Why people like a death row inmate, a serial killer, a self-proclaimed liar and criminal, and an assassin?
Furthermore, going through many Fte’s highlights how much of the characters’ backstories seem very out there. Gonta wasn’t raised by wolves but a race of dinosaur people living in the woods, Kirumi is so hyper-competent that she became prime minister during the meteor crisis, Korekiyo’s killed almost 100 women and yet has never been caught, Maki can attend high school despite Japanese orphanages being too underfunded for kids to usually attend, Tenko’s neo-aikido breaks all the rules of traditional aikido and she's impulsive, has low pain tolerance, and disregards fair rules, none of which are very befitting of a martial artist.
And to conclude, even I thought that the reveal of their connection to Hope’s Peak felt very fanficy and out there, especially when the game had made no references or implications of it beforehand. But the reason for all of this is simple and effective:
None of this is real. It’s all staged.
Chapter 6 reveals that everything from their identities to the outside world they thought they knew was all just a fabrication. In truth, Tsumugi shows herself as the mastermind and that they’re actually in the 53rd season of an in-universe show called Danganronpa. Something alluded to even in the beginning of the game with the Team Danganronpa logo. This moment was very make or break for a lot of people, but let’s treat it fairly.
According to Tsumugi, the outside world has become a peaceful, boring place and Danganronpa is the only source of real entertainment the people have. A place where people literally come to have their identities replaced with those of Ultimates and then made to kill each other. This, as it turns out, was an outgrowth of the actual series we’d played before. A game that’s gone over 53 times.
This revelation is devastating for the characters. The lives and memories they’d known were all fabrications, which Tsumugi claims to have intentionally written. The Flashback lights were designed to implant fake memories to manipulate them, which is why that Hope’s Peak connection was set up after everyone gave up following the reveal of the outside world. A truth that could lead the world to despair, a lie that could lead the world to hope.
She even goes so far as to show everyone’s audition tapes, claiming that Kaede, Kaito, and Shuichi himself were willing to participate in the killings out of sheer misanthropy, popularity, and morbid excitement
Kiibo is also revealed to be the audience’s means of interacting with the game, able to carry out their wishes and can even be hijacked and used as a way to fight against the characters’ decisions.
In the end, Tsumugi claims that the ongoing battle of hope vs despair needs to continue in perpetuity and that the survivors need to sacrifice someone, since only two people can survive Danganronpa. Shuichi, however, convinces Maki and Himiko not to vote for anyone and actually convinces the in-universe audience to give up on the series. Kiibo then blows the set to hell and allows Shuichi, Maki, and Himiko the chance to escape and see the world outside and what sort of influence they could have.
Now, let’s this break this down piece by piece here, because I feel like this part of the game is often conflated. Often I’ve seen people say that Chapter 6 is a giant middle finger to fans of the series, that nothing about the series really mattered, or that the flaws of the game can simply be attributed to bad writing on the creator’s part.
I honestly used to be in that camp myself, but the more I’ve thought about it, the more I feel those statements don’t hold up to scrutiny. We often conflate writing and narrative decisions we don’t like with bad writing. However, if the creator deliberately wants the narrative to move in that direction and has made intentional foreshadowing, references, and motivations that match it, we can’t simply equate that with it being “badly written.”
It’s not bad simply because we would’ve preferred they do something different. There’s a lot of very acclaimed books out there that I’ll admit I don’t care for because of their narrative decisions, but I wouldn’t go so far as to say they’re badly-written.
Furthermore, if something intentionally doesn’t make sense in-story, that is not bad writing. That is purposeful on the part of the creator, not a plot hole. The Gofer Project is not supposed to be a logical narrative, it’s meant to serve V3′s role: deconstruction of the nature of the series. It does this in many different ways:
Sequelization: 53 is a ridiculous amount of entries in a franchise and as I’m sure we’re all aware, as the number of entries goes up, the writing quality tends to go down. The Gofer Project story was purposefully meant to be nonsensical because it’s a story in an in-universe franchise that jumped the shark long ago.
A lot of people found it confusing or ridiculous that Shuichi and Kaede would have a romantic connection despite knowing each other barely a few days. That’s also the point; quick romances are a convenient narrative device to establish a means for character growth, followed by fridging her, a bad narrative trope designed to propel Shuichi toward development. Tsumugi even said as much during Chapter 6.
Similarly, Maki’s role in the story and her feelings for Kaito were reminiscent of that as well, with him helping her come out of her shell.
When you go back, you can see Danganronpa is loaded with references to other series. Tsumugi is an obsessive otaku and went so far as to fill the entire story with deliberate references and callbacks to things she enjoys.
The Monokubs are deliberate references to executive decisions to add more marketable and merchandisable characters as the series drags on.
The fact that there are (supposedly) people willing to sign up for a killing game deconstructs the idea that some in the fandom may have had. That is, actually being in a killing game would not be fun or exciting, but horrific and traumatizing. Most of us wouldn’t be badass detectives or heroes, we’d be scared out of our minds, afraid, and want to find a way out.
Furthermore, Shuichi being repeatedly told that he’s just a fictional character and that his role is to be the protagonist, to go through hardships and come out stronger for the audience’s entertainment pisses him off so much that he wants no part of it.
The climax is ultimately a deconstruction of what the series is famous for: the battle of hope vs. despair. In-universe, this has been reduced down to a simple narrative where the audience wants the same thing again and again: to see hope win in the end. Because hope keeps winning, the audience keeps wanting more. It’s become so formulaic that the audience doesn’t want to break out of its shell and just wants to see it over and over.
The final PTA against Kiibo is not meant to be an insult to the audience, but a representation of fighting against toxicity and entitlement in the fanbase, especially the ones that don’t want change. It’s not saying “you’re stupid for liking this series,” it’s saying “don’t be like these people.”
And how does the game? An unsatisfying ending that’s so bad that it drives the audience to give up on the show, finally allowing the killing to stop. Tsumugi decides she can’t live in a world without her favorite show and decides to die.
And that brings me to what I think is the ultimate thing that people conflate about the ending: that it’s all fiction, so nothing about it matters. That the entire franchise was fake, so it’s not worth your time.
That’s exactly the opposite of what V3 is trying to say.
First, Tsumugi is a completely unreliable narrator. The kind of person who let fiction consume her entire life, yet she believes it can’t change reality. She’s a liar and a hypocrite, and there’s no way of knowing if anything she says about the outside world is even true. It could be like she says or it might not be.
The fact that they have technology that can remove memories and add fake ones adds an entire dimension of ambiguity to everything she says, especially when you consider how the beginning of the game does not match up with what she says. We have no idea what the kids were really like before the killing game, so why should we believe anything she says?
And how can we be certain of her claims that she just wrote everything as planned? Kokichi and Kaito managed to put together a plan that completely threw her and Monokuma for a loop
Shuichi, Maki, and Himiko ultimately choosing to take the words of Kaede, Kaito, and Tenko to heart, even if they were part of a fictional narrative, is proof that they still had an influence on the trio. They choose to take something meaningful from their experiences regardless of the reality of their situation. And that’s something we all do.
The media we consume has an influence over who we are as people, and it’s part of why so many of us have such strong attachments to works we love. They were often influential in help shape who we are as people now, for good and for ill, and it’s important to take that into account.
V3′s message is that yes, that is important, and that you should read and enjoy stories and fiction, just as long as you don’t let it consume your life. They can influence you and even the world at large, and so it’s our responsibility as writers, artists, and creators to use that influence positively, to use the medium as a way to change the world for the better. That the only way for stale franchises that we’re tired of seeing over and over is to demand change, even if that means walking out on them. That the only way for things to change is for us to take action and demand change.
And by the end, we may not see immediate results, but we can at least work hard at trying to bring them about. V3 ends with Shuichi, Maki, and Himiko facing an uncertain future in a world they really know nothing about, but hopeful that their actions can and will change the world for the better. Real life doesn’t have solid, satisfying conclusions and it always doesn’t play out like a story, but that doesn’t mean you should give up on ever finding something satisfying or hopeful out there.
This, by no means, is me saying that V3 is a flawless story. I can point to numerous critiques that I still think hold water. However, Sanderson’s point is that we shouldn’t criticize a work based on what we wish it was rather than how it is and what it was trying to do.
I know there’s a lot about the story that bothers people, I know there’s a lot that wasn’t polished and a lot that feels uncomfortable and hard to swallow. Like Shuichi, coming out feeling confused, lost, unsure of what to do, but choosing to see merit and things to take to heart even in a story that turned out to be full of lies and uncomfortable truths.
If you didn’t enjoy V3, I wouldn’t force you to enjoy it. If you did love it, then you should love it. These are all just my thoughts on a story that, as time goes on, honestly feels more and more relevant to me.
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have y’all ever watched ‘unraveled’ by brian david gilbert on youtube? that was how i felt writing this. and i don’t even have a master’s degree in creative writing, i’m an engineering major with nothing else to do.
anyways, i present: ‘vessels’, unraveled
the order. the Beginning. We’re set up with a futuristic, cinematic vibe right away. Buckle up idiots.
satellite. The introduction of our hero and their beloved, blessed with a connection that transcends distance, obstacles, etc. Also the introduction of the interdependence between the hero and their partner. The hero is dependent on the partner for guidance, but at the same time, the partner is referred to as the hero’s satellite, with the hero’s gravity (down-to-earthness?) keeping them tethered. The first mention of a darkness within the hero, but this darkness is clearly kept in check by his connection with his partner. This is a love song, the only balanced love song on the album, honestly.
frequency. The aforementioned connection in Satellite has been corrupted. There’s a disconnect between the two of them, and initially the hero believes he’s imagining it, but over the course of the song, he realizes it’s real, his partner has been severed their connection, and he feels raw, angry, scared, and most of all: betrayed. He’s never been alone before. He wasn’t meant to be alone. He doesn’t want to be alone.
DIE FOR YOU. This song is the death of me, personally. Fuck. Anyways, this is our hero coming to terms with his partner’s disappearance, in his own way. He acknowledges that they’re gone from his side now, but that he will not stop until they can be reunited again. In a ‘story’ scenario, I’d imagine this as the hero seeing that their partner has Turned, but the hero believes redemption is possible for them, or rather, that losing them is not an option. The hero will be there, waiting for their partner with open arms, no matter what happens between them, even if it means the death of them and what they stand for. Because death is preferable to separation.
Ricochet. A reflection of how the two of them ended up here, the first time we realize that maybe, their separation was fate. There were indications that the partner was bold, sometimes too bold for our hero to follow, but it never occurred that this would be their undoing. And that realization hurts, hurts him to his core. His beloved is beyond his reach, the gap between them self-imposed, but indomitable. We get the sense that this is a blow he will not be able to recover from. STORY MOMENT: the hero realizes that redemption is not possible for their partner, and it is completely, and utterly devastating. The person that was once there is gone, closed off, replaced by something that feels nothing for him.
starlight. Some insight into the bond between our hero and his partner. I’m choosing to interpret this song as from the point of view of them both: a plead from the hero, and maybe a moment of lucidity from the partner wishing he would just let them go, that they can be reunited, but they have to be separated now. The chorus and bridge are imbued with this sense of longing and dogged determination we saw in DIE FOR YOU, but the first verse is so reminiscent of someone consoling another as they slip away (‘the void is calling’/’it’s okay, I promise’). You know those moments in like every fanfiction where someone is possessed and then they break the possession for just a moment to say ‘I love you’ or something? This is that but a song.
into the unknown. HOOO BOY: this is the beginning of the end for our boy. This song is notably more aggressive that any of the above. This is our hero taking matters into his own hands, embracing his loneliness, his anger, all of those negative emotions he’s initially been pushing aside, and things are starting to get dicey. He’s walking the edge of a razor. Whatever it takes, he remembers. Whatever it takes.
gravity of you. Remember that razor’s edge from earlier? We’re about to go over. The loss has turned into an obsession, their love gotten twisted and darkened into something that is fundamentally changing them. The connection we thought was lost in Satellite is back, and this time, it’s Worse. There is a lot of imagery of a craft being pulled into a black hole; a toss-up between being reunited with his partner but to lose himself, or to live a life without them and in effect, lose himself anyways.
back to the earth. the alternate title for this song is ‘consequences’ because holy shit. We’ve gone over the edge, all logic is out the fucking window, we are committed and honestly, this would be the moment of wondering if the wrong decision has been made, because it feels wrong, so painfully wrong, but the question of ‘is this death or rebirth?’ makes one wonder if maybe, there could be a positive ending to this, that this pain might be worth it in the end.
last to fall. More exploration of falling, of going rogue, being the right choice. While Gravity of You had us worried (rightfully so), it’s clear that our hero’s intentions are pure at heart: he won’t abandon his partner, he won’t ignore that their connection is still strong (even if it’s distorted or corrupted), that he’ll put himself through hell for the chance that they’ll be by his side again.
bringing it down. In a story, this would be the moment our hero and their other half are reunited, but God at what cost. It’s finally sinking in that their partner is not the same, they’re something worse. And the worst part? He still cannot bear the thought of leaving them, even though the relationship that was once mutual is starting to become parasitic. The world is falling apart around them. We are nearing a life or death situation, saving yourself, or becoming unrecognizable alongside someone who was once the world to you.
unbecoming. Consequences 2.0. The decision above has been made unknowingly: the hero is being undone by all that he’s put at risk, and when he hopes, desperately, that his partner will be there when he needs them the most, they shun him. They laugh, ask how he could have been so trusting, so stupid? And now, our hero has no choices left. His partner’s knowing betrayal is the final nail in the coffin.
monster. Manipulation is the name of the game. Now that the trust, the love, is gone, all that’s left is a slew of negative emotions that are perfect for becoming an unrecognizable husk of who you once were. I talked about this song earlier, but the first verse being a railing against the partner for abandoning them as a catalyst for their corruption versus the second verse being a series of ‘I’ statements in which our hero realizes that this darkness was always within him, but never acknowledged? I’m just a slut for heroes becoming villains. The opposite of a redemption arc. The hero and his partner are truly together again, in horrible, distrustful love.
telepathic. Dustin fucking knocked it out of the park with this track and I wish we talked about it more. There are several moments of realizing that this love was cursed, but in this moment of clarity, our ‘hero’ realizes how his dependence truly was his undoing. Even before their Fall, his partner was always two steps ahead of him. There’s also a fun role reversal here: moons are referred to as natural satellites. In Satellite, our hero refers to his partner as his satellite, but now, he refers to them as the Sun, and to himself as a moon. There’s been a swap in power, I would even argue a subjugation, after this unraveling. I don’t know what conclusion to draw from that I just think it’s crazy.
everglow. This is still a song of admiration, even monsters have their moments of reprieve. Our hero is still so, so in love. It leads one to wonder if the love is reciprocated, because this song makes it feel one-sided, like we’re still the territory of ‘obsession’. Even after all that has happened, he’s willing to give everything he has to them, even if ‘everything’ is actually nothing at all. I also think it is fucking wild how this song goes from this really heavy vibe, to a final orchestral piece that makes one imagine end credits rolling. Wow.
#i can't believe i did this#i went off#to no one in particular#this is 1395 words#what the fuck#starset#vessels#lyric analysis#fr if you read all of this i love you#tori talks#more like tori gives a dissertation#does this count as studying for the fe bc dustin is a fellow engineer#that's how i'm justifying this
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You killed our dog! Adriana of The Sopranos gave me strength to navigate life after a breakup during a global pandemic lockdown
I’m going through a breakup. It’s come at the worst time but also the best time. He ended things with me (more on that later) after three years in the most Beta-Male way...but this is what happens when your type can be boiled down to softboi. I can’t see my friends in the conventional way, so I made some new ones on screen to help me navigate the end during quarantine.
Over ten weeks ago I started watching The Sopranos. It doesn’t need justifying, everyone knows it’s the best television series of all time, but I’d never seen it, and I knew a global pandemic induced lockdown would provide optimum viewing circumstances. My favourite thing to do is completely throw myself into the female narrative and experience I’m watching on screen. I prefer a long deep drama over a film. I like being able to see my girls every night.
People have said to me before “you should start a blog”, but I could never escape the feeling that doing so is massively narcissistic because it *is*, unless you have something actually relevant to write about. Alternatively, the image of Gretchen Weiners leaning in and going “you let it out honey, put it in the book” floats across my conscience, and everything embarrassing that I’ve ever done, plays in a montage in my mind.
Who gives a fuck what I have to say about anything…….. especially about a cultural phenomena that is quite literally regarded as the best TV show of all time?
I’d been wanting to write this after I watched Long Term Parking. I lay in the dark for 45 minutes after the episode ended. I’d never felt like that watching a television show or film before. My throat had seized up but I didn’t cry, even though I felt like it. I knew it was coming from the moment Adriana met the agent. I wasn’t surprised, but I was heartbroken and absolutely fuming. I still am.
I’m not angry with Christopher, Tony, or Silvio, but just the general unbalance I’ve felt when I’m in a relationship. The loss of self, relationships being a series of compromises. From what I have found from my own experiences and my girlfriends’, women are just much more willing to compromise, but don’t consider it to be a compromise. Men can only take into consideration their own reality, an evolutionary selfishness that just doesn’t translate.
Just as lockdown began I texted my boyfriend to say I loved him and I missed him. He responded with “Can’t say I feel the same”. Nearly 3 years were over just like that. We had the obligatory phone call, where I was hysterical and he was smarmy and smug. Yet when it was over, I felt nothing. It’s allllll a big nothing.
My personal Gospel is Sex and The City (shout out to HBO!). This was my Berger moment. He essentially scribbled “I’m sorry, I can’t. Don’t hate me” on a post-it. The irony of the whole thing is that when we watched it together, he himself said he was most like Berger. Thinking about it makes me wince.
My life opened up in front of me, I was exposed to his weakness regarding the situation in full when his sister-in-law messaged me on Instagram a few days ago. He hadn’t told his family, nor had he told his flatmates (another shout out to my sleuths at the back, you know who you are!).
The Sopranos is a show about life. The Mafia structure provides a vehicle for us to question morality and mortality. You take what you get from it. When I watch it again at a different stage of my life, I will get something else out of it.
For me now, while I stew in my own emotion during quarantine, Adriana represents emotional labour and the expectation for women to behave in a certain way in relationships.
At first when my ex’s family members were messaging me, I was confused. It is frankly humiliating to smile as if everything is normal, so as to protect someone that in the end would not do the same for me. I know he wouldn’t do the same because there was just no courtesy in what happened weeks ago. I am trying to move on but things like this stunt your personal growth.
The struggle with emotional labour hones a guilt that someday I’ll regret giving my early 20s to something that didn’t work out. I felt like I was on borrowed time.
These are obviously my own insecurities spurred on by the fact that I’ve read enough “10 things I wish I knew in my 20s” blogs to know that these are my selfish years. Still, it is ultimately devastating to see the last 3 years of your life conclude via a text that displays a failure to realise that there is no real clean cut for a long-term relationship.
I respect him for the blunt statement because it means I get to reference the Berger SATC breakup and say “casually cruel in the name of being honest” (Taylor Swift, 2012) a LOT, which softens the pity in the social scenarios that I invent in my head in the shower.
When Tony calls Adriana to tell her Christopher has tried to kill himself, that was like my final phone call too. This is the end. Her youthfulness was why I related to her most in the show, but at the same time having nothing to lose made her easily expendable. Youth makes you put 100% into something knowing it is a gamble.
I’m not comparing my ‘borrowed time’ to Adriana because she ends up dead, but there was a disregard for her life that was so harrowing because she did nothing but try and do the right thing. I watched Adriana put Christopher first willingly for 5 series. He supported her music management dreams but ultimately ended up making it all about him. He gave her the Crazy Horse but this ultimately was just another mob hangout. He sat on her dog, he continued to use heroin, shag other people, and so on.
“You could start writing again,” she tells him in her last episode, to which he responds “I could do my memoirs, finally,”. Here is Adriana still!! STILL!! catering to Christopher’s ego to give herself some confidence. Very me.
All the way through she was just too good for him. Her ties to the Famiglia aren’t as tight as Carmela and Co. No children, still young, there’s chance for Adriana to get out if she wanted to. Of course this makes her prime FBl bait, but shows she sticks by Christopher through everything purely out of love. In the end she dies on her knees, subservient, with Heart’s Barracuda the last song she hears. I know Adriana had to go. That’s the way it is in the Famiglia because Christopher took an oath. But in a way she also had the carpet ripped from underneath her, just like me.
There are lots of men writing on the internet about how Adriana is greedy and hypocritical. I just don’t understand where this reading is coming from other than obvious misogyny. I’ve read others that say if she was really that strong she would have simply left the relationship years ago. I believe that she believed things would improve for both of them, and that most people are just slut shaming her for her past.
Still, Drea DeMatteo won a Best Supporting Actress Emmy for the episode. Fuckin’ A.
I rooted for the woman. Before I was made redundant while working from home, I would spend half my life at my desk willing it to be 5:30pm, so I could slither back to the settee and spend the other half of my life in New Jersey. I’d phone my mum to discuss the episodes. She loves the show too, it’s always been a favourite in my household. We’d talk about the women like they were our friends and how we relate to them. The Sopranos is like a big mirror urging you to question everything. The answer to life is simply what are ya gonna do?
Men love making things black and white so it is easier for them, when really women are in the background sorting out the shades of grey.
Don’t get me wrong, Adriana’s significance is massive, albeit more so because of her death. You watch Christopher and Tony’s relationship start to crumble afterwards. It's shattering to see the disregard for Christopher’s sobriety and how despite his loyalty, he still sees him as a liability and weak.
On the other hand, for Adriana’s sake, I am still enraged that he couldn’t see the bigger picture at the time. She is collateral damage in his path to finding his precious arc - “Wives, girlfriends, they can complicate life in a major way” Tony expresses to Jennifer as he runs from his own guilt.
Christopher is desperate for Tony’s approval but is more than happy to use his blood connection as a protective leeway whenever he steps out of line. Again the irony is that he comes to tell Tony about Adriana first, just as the old Famiglia values say he should, but there is no real personal reward for doing so despite the personal sacrifice.
I think Christopher regretted it in the end, and rightly so. When he is faced with his potential alternate life at the gas station, we assume that this was what made him go to Tony. It’s a family with loads of kids. Adriana probably can’t even have kids??? What kind of male logic?! #justiceforadriana
I can’t help but feel for him when JT screams “Chris, you’re in the MAFIA!”. It’s the same kind of reality check that Chief Cubitoso gives Adriana, it’s an ultimatum and it’s the realisation that they are trapped in this life. Just ask Gene.
Carmela knew. I read her dreams as a testament to a woman’s intuition. She knows her friend isn’t what everyone is describing, she knows Adriana wouldn’t just disappear. She is all too aware of the emotional labour Mob women carry. When she sees Adriana with Cosette on the banks of the Seine, it is as sad as it is when we dream about people who have died.
There is a scene in an early episode where Carmela says “Don’t we all?” in response to Meadow squealing “She’s MARRYING a BABY?” at a painting of The Marriage of Saint Catherine. I thought about this again when Christopher dies. Carmela passes her instinct off as hysteria, she isn’t to know. “So quick to blame, what is the attraction in that?” she cries during the aftermath of the car crash. There is a critique in her own femininity here that just makes you want to shout “NO CARM!!!!!!!”. As she believes she mothers Tony, there is the double-edged sword whereby he protects her through keeping her in the dark. “Heaven only ever sees my love making a fool of me” sings Emmylou Harris at the start of season 5. Carm’s power is taken away but she doesn’t even know.
Carmela dedicates her life to being a mother but it’s not enough to save Meadow from her surname. We get some sense that AJ ‘Break Stuff by Limp Bizkit’ Soprano might be on a new path when he feels like the burning of his car among the autumn leaves of death was cathartic. As a man, he just has more freedom anyway.
Miss Meadow gained her independence by getting her driving license, but in the end we see that she is still held back in the final scene by her inability to parallel park. She slots right in, eventually. As she does, she slots into the Soprano cycle after years of doing the most to get out and pave her own way. After every breakup with someone without links to the Famiglia, no scrubs, she returns and dates someone closer to home. Her career path is left tenuous to us, it would be all too easy for her to become a kept woman, which feels like it is the only real option should she settle down into the lifestyle with Patrick Parisi. It isn’t what she envisioned for herself, so part of me wants to hope that her story ends up a little bit more like Elle Woods. Legally Italian.
I probably wouldn’t even have remembered her saying anything about parallel parking if I wasn’t terrible at parallel parking myself. It’s the pepperings of these subtle callbacks that make the show so beautiful. As the guitar solo plays on during the frustration, you’re invited to reminisce over Meadow’s journey. I fully wept watching her struggle to get the damn car parked because I’m trying to get my car parked too. Don’t stop believing, Meadow.
I admire all the women in The Sopranos. The show is feminist, and that is a hill I am prepared to die on. It’s definitely up for debate as it is obviously littered with gratuitous nudity and women are commoditised. We have to allow this for cultural context for the show, but real life is basically exactly the same too?
I read a post on Reddit where a dude is asking whether he should watch the show with his girlfriend. He types ‘“It’s a masterpiece of film but she probably wouldn’t get into it as I am”, and you don’t have to look much further to find more comments about how women and their puny minds just won’t get it. It’s an odd perspective to take given that Tony’s psychiatrist is a woman, but of course women could never grasp something so complex. It’s bullshit if you ask me, the female narrative prevails throughout all scenarios.
The Pine Barrens seems to be everyone’s favourite episode. It’s not my favourite but there are two major elements that resonated with me. The first is Meadow looking down at the three letter words Jackie Aprile Jr had placed on the Scrabble board, and the second is when Gloria says to Tony:
“What you said was that you didn’t wanna piss me off..which implies that you’d have to deal with me, which is more about sparing YOU than my fucking feelings”. Don’t need to elaborate on that. Rest in power, Gloria. Legend.
Of course I could write pages and pages of hot feminist takes on all of the women - Jennifer, Janice, Livia, Angie, Svetlana, Charmaine. Lord knows I could probably write a book on Tracee.“ 20 years old, this girl”, I bashed Living on a Thin Line by The Kinks for about a week after that episode. It is the male gaze of the show made me love the women more. Carmela is my mother and I’ll probably name my first born Meadow.
Carmela is the powerhouse and backbone of The Soprano household even though Tony provides. She represents stability, emotional labour, and putting on a brave face regardless. In some ways, it is as if Carmela represents the human emotion side and the fragility of organised crime. She is secure, but not enough, and her lack of ability to stand on her own two feet plagues her conscience through time. She is totally complicit, but must be to ensure her future with Tony as he pays anything to roll the dice just one more time. At the end of Long Term Parking, she and Tony stand looking at where she will build her spec-house. The forest looks the same as where we lost Ade, it’s a grim reflection that Carmela wouldn’t have this life if it wasn’t for the quick disposal of those like Adriana.
Yeah okay, what the hell is a show with a feminist underpinning trying to say about wider society about a woman who exercises her beauty, loyalty and ambition?? Is it that she is not to be trusted?? Adriana’s a rat, but before this she is already deemed “damaged goods” anyway. She dresses provocatively, but that’s because she just looks MINT always. You would dress like THAT if you looked like THAT. When you Google her, ‘Adriana Sopranos Tennis’ comes up. I roll my eyes. Fucking men, eh? To take it down to a basic Sixth-Form-Poet reading, Adriana is Curley’s Wife and Daisy Buchanan all in one. She loves a red manicure too, and it might have worked out better for her if she had played the complicit beautiful little fool.
This isn’t ‘Why The Sopranos is good!’, but a love letter to Adriana and her strength, because there is basically little or no content written on the women of the show when I have Googled. I needed there to be more things written about her that isn’t just “bitch had it coming” when in fact she is a martyr.
When Adriana was on screen, there was my mate. I knew her, she wanted what I wanted, but she sacrificed so much of herself for others and it was heartbreaking to watch. She barely gets a look-in in early episodes, but when she does she is usually wearing something animal print, which automatically made her the number one character on my radar. I am choosing to believe the theory that she is the cat in the final episode too.
Still, I have been struggling and questioning why an episode that aired 16 years ago, with no plot that links to my own circumstances, has had such a monumental impact on me.
I saw a tweet that said “have we ever sat down and thought about why relationships only work if the guy is more invested than the girl or is that just something we accept” (@anugov1). Adriana invested more in Christopher, even in the end, than she ever did herself.
As I navigate this transitional period in my life, I am Adriana driving in the vision we see when we think she is going to start her new chapter. We can’t leave the flat, I have no job. The Sopranos has provided the most cathartic escapism for me. As I enter into whatever new world follows this nightmare, I wanted my mate Adriana to find her new world too, turning the classic rock up to 11.
#the sopranos#adriana la cerva#christopher moltisanti#carmela soprano#feminism#cosette#breakup#woe is me#hbo#david chase#drea de matteo
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Words - The Long Reach Fic
@gumnut-logic wrote a fic called Thunderbird X that is a million times better than my random musings. Their fic was posted first and I highly recommend you go and read it HERE if you haven’t already
But anyway... Nutty knows about this fic and has given me a blessing to post it no matter how much I protested that it was far too similar.
Under the cut for SPOILERS
Alternatively, read on AO3
To say he hadn’t thought about what he would say when he was reunited with his sons would be a bold faced lie. It had been a hope that Jeff Tracy had been daydreaming of since he had become stranded in the Oort cloud. Some days the possibility of ever seeing them again had seemed little more than a wish or hope, something that he could think about forever but would never actually happen.
Still, it was those thoughts that occupied his mind every single day as he went through his routines and chores.It would of course be a momentous day if they were to find him, and Jeff wasn’t the sort of man to let that kind of day pass without some form of well thought out words. As he tinkered and fiddled it was those thoughts that kept him going in the hope that he would find just the right words to say if he ever got saved.
The classic sarcasm had been his original plan, what had taken them so long? Could they have not picked a retirement place closer to home? Yes, he had had a wonderful holiday thank you.
After some time the last of those options had made his heart ache.
He wasn’t on the Moon now. Not even his brief visit to Mars stood up to the place where he was. The more local planets had been a holiday in comparison to his long fight for survival. Each and every day for years had presented a new challenge, a new problem to overcome. There had been more than one occasion when the fight had gotten too much for him and going on seemed to be prolonging the inevitable.
The transmission had come through just at the right time.
It was broken and scrambled but to him it was enough just to hear the fragments of John’s voice. His boys needed him, they were still looking for him. That was all he needed to know that somehow, some day they would find him.
And so the daydreams of what a reunion would be like came back to the fore.
It was around about that point he had started the sketch of home, a remedy to his thoughts and something else for him to think about. The feeling of that sun on his face. Fresh, breathable air that didn’t come from oxygen concentrators. Sand in between his toes. The cacophony of his family, the five boys, his mother, Kayo and even Brains.
Which of them would come for him? Who would his perfect speech need to be tailored for?
Alan would be too young to be allowed in space. Gordon, whilst capable in zero-g, didn’t have as much enthusiasm for space flight as his older brothers. Mind, he knew the same was also true of Virgil. Though he supposed Virgil’s engineering capabilities may be required on such a long flight. Scott and John were perhaps the only two definites. The eldest son Jeff didn’t doubt would be carrying on that role of leadership as he always had with his brothers, whilst John was the son Jeff had always known would follow him to space.
How are you? Would be too casual, like he had only been away for days rather than years.
Look at how you’ve grown! Would be expected, perhaps something he would save for a later conversation.
His heart hurt at the thought of how much his boys may have changed.
Little Allie had been so young when he had gone. It was crushing to face the reality that he would have missed so much in the young man's life.
And what of the others? Were they all well? Or had the task of running International Rescue proven too much? Had he fated his sons to something devastating when he had left them? Had any of them been hurt? Injured? Worse?
He refused to let himself think like that. His boys were his, stubborn and strong and smart. They would have gotten through so many life changes without him.
Would there be partners? Children? Was he a grandfather?
What he wouldn’t have given for that information, just simply for the knowledge that his boys were happy, healthy and safe.
It had at least given him another reason to hold out for them.
Until the damned rock he had parked himself on had begun to judder one day.
Jeff Tracy knew what seismic activity felt like, and on a planetoid of that size he knew what it meant.
He was running out of time.
The Zero-x was useless, helpful for nothing more than powering the setup that had lasted him as long as was feasible. He had looked at him options plenty of times, assessed if there was a way to improvise and adapt what he had. Only one answer had presented itself to him each and every time though.
If his boys didn’t manage to come soon, the planetoid would disintegrate and take him with it.
There had to be something. He had survived so long, it wasn’t fair that it came down to gravity and shifting rock. His boys would be coming, they had to be. Why? Why just when he had the perfect thing to say to them, was it all going to be taken away?
He had to find a way.
Finding a way was the reason he had almost missed them.
He’d been on the wrong side of the crevice when he saw the searchlights and what looked like Thunderbird Four on a string.
Except it couldn’t be.
Could it?
Just in case, he had made a run for it, cursing as the rock broke away under his feet forcing him to jump and stumble back to his base. He could have sworn that something or someone somewhere had it in for him, that some cruel trick of fate meant he was destined to not make it home.
Tracy’s were stubborn though.
As he got closer static in his ear became muffled broken bits of conversation and he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.
Five boys.
All his five boys.
And a refusal to give up until they had him to take home.
Scott sending little Alan away, the youngest just a spec in the sky as Jeff looked up and watched him float away. His eldest son sighing heavily, questioning where he could be.
Oh how he wanted to yell that he was there, that if he just held on for two more moments he would be right behind him.
The shift of rock took his breath away, catching him off guard but clearly catching Scott harder. For a moment he hesitated, waiting, watching to see if he would recover himself. But no, it wasn’t meant to be, there was no recovery no use of the jetpack that Jeff had stolen the design for from Lee.
It was instinct to jump after him, not thinking twice as he reacted to save the son that had come to save him.
And then he was there, hanging from Jeff’s hand and looking up at him in awe. Every single word that Jeff had planned was suddenly forgotten. It was like the day the boy had been born all over again. The same wide blue eyes looking up at him with all the trust and love in the world.
It seemed odd that it was the same feeling that overcame him at that moment.
A feeling that somehow, despite everything stopping him, he would protect those boys from anything in the universe. Previous speech forgotten, he knew just what words he needed to say,
“I’ve got you, son.”
#thunderbirds are go#tag fanfic#thunderbirds spoilers#Thunderbirds 2015#jeff tracy#where is jeff?#There He IS#scribbles writes#post episode fic#The Long Reach
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Imagine Sasha and Max being friends tho.
(i’ll be real this whole thing took multiple hours to type please somebody actually read this or I might die tbh-)
Like I know they had one episode together but think about them a c t u a l l y being friends.
(below are a ton of headcanons for a friendship between them)
- Obviously they have a bit of respect for one another because of their alliance of convenience, but their friendship would probably be forged on laughing at someone else. Whether it's their friends fucking up or Pikeman's general incompetence or whatever else. I can imagine now their camps are competing or something but the stakes don't matter to them, so Sasha and Max just end up shit talking everyone else and watching the show.
- Since their friendship was forged on calling people out they'd kinda just start hanging out specifically to rant and gossip about the shit that goes down around camp. Like Max'll get fed up with how idiotic the campbell campers are and come to vent to Sasha and she'll be here for it, because of course she is or Sasha ends up getting ditched by Tabii and Erin again and just kinda goes to Max to talk about how annoyed she is.
- Sasha keeps pointing out things like the circled under Max's eyes and other facial discrepancies and eventually he'll just be like "well how do you look perfect all the time?!?" because it's not fair. Sasha gasps super loud and immediately goes full makeover mode. She immediately shoves a ton of makeup onto him and prescribes him a skincare routine and Max isn't sure about it but he's actually kinda self-conscious and Sasha's like "do you wanna end up looking like Pikeman?" so Max follows her instructions to the letter and he looks amazing.
- After that they kinda just end up doing each other's makeup all the time and stuff like that. Max usually just uses like concealer and stuff because he doesn't want it to look like he's trying, but occasionally Max'll give Sasha permission to put some eyeliner on him or something and he'll never admit it but he l o v e s the way it looks. They start hanging out even more of course because it's not like Max can go to anyone else about the whole skincare/makeup thing and honestly Sasha loves her other friends but it's relieving to hang out with someone more willing to gossip with her (even if she's slightly salty that Max doesn't have enough hair for her to mess with like Erin and Tabii do)
- Sasha forces Max to watch a ton of shitty highschool movies and Max doesn't really like most of them but he'll put up with it because he (although he'll never admit it) cares about Sasha (and is a little intimidated by her when she's upset). He doesn't like them but occasionally Max can also coerce her into watching a horror movie with him so they're even in his books (even if the poor thing has to watch way more of her movies than he makes her watch)
- They actually end up being r e a l l y protective of each other. Like most of the time, they'll let people fuck with their friends (so long as no real harm is done), yknow? But if anyone says a word about Max and it gets back to Sasha they'll literally end up the laughing stock of Lake Lilac by the end of the day because Sasha's a bitch who can spread a rumor like wildfire. Alternatively, Max'll sick Nikki and Neil on anyone who fucks with Sasha (which won't end up pretty). And that's if they're lucky because that kid could do so much worse if he's got the right motivation. They try to hide the fact that they're acting in defense of one another and justify why they're screwing over whoever it is they're screwing over, but it's honestly just vengeance for their friend.
- All the gossiping makes the two more unstoppable than they were before tbh. Like Max always had other Camp Campbell camper's secrets tucked away for blackmail purposes and Sasha needs to know everything going on in her turf so of course she's got dirt on all the Flower Scouts. And it's not exactly hard to figure out the Woodscout's. So with their swapping info constantly both of them end up knowing everything about everyone and being able to screw them over in a heartbeat. Basically, hanging out together makes those two terrifying.
- They're also more confident as a duo than most other times. Like don't get me wrong, they're both pretty sure of their capabilities, and they trust their individual friend groups to have their back, but they know that the other person is competent in manipulation and incredibly cunning and they value each other's skillsets because they're super similar. When you're confident in yourself, having somebody who's like you around only makes you doubly confident. They feel super badass whenever they team up in something and it's great.
- Most of their arguments are probably petty tbh. Max calls one of Sasha's favorite movies dumb (she bases her life around highschool stereotypes and dumb cliche movies, of course, she gets pissed when he insults them) or Sasha makes one too many comments about Max's physical appearance (the girl is obsessed with looking good and as much as Max is willing to listen to her advice, it gets to him when she comments on his weight or how he needs to sleep more because the circles under his eyes are getting harder to cover up. Like, he has depression, do you not realize that weight changes and bad sleeping habits are a symptom of that?!?). A common source of disagreement is how used to being in charge they each are. Like yeah, they know they don't always have to take the lead, but it's so ingrained into them that they struggle with it. Max watches Sasha's dumb movies all the time and took her advice on skincare and stuff so she occasionally forgets that she's not his boss like she's in charge of her other friend's and of course he's willing to compromise on some things but he doesn't take well to being treated like a lackey and she's too stubborn to admit she's wrong half the time.
- Their fights get bad. Despite normally being over small things and the person who's in the wrong normally realizing they're the one who's wrong, both Max and Sasha are very stubborn people and they will die on this hill no matter how petty the whole thing is honestly. They'll scream and throw things and once or twice they've even wound up physically fighting. Usually, if it comes to an actual physical altercation they'll stop there because actually injuring your friend is super fucked up. Once Max threw a book at Sasha without thinking and it gave her a black eye. Another time Sasha literally slapped him and it left a bruise for like a week. They both felt like shit after. When Sasha gave Max a bruise she literally cried and he forgave her on the condition that she help him cover the bruise with makeup (He said he'd dealt with worse and something about the way he said it made her uneasy. She can't place why). The time that Max hit Sasha with a book he froze up completely and refused to even look at her for like an hour. Partially because he felt guilty and couldn't verbalize his regret but it was honestly more than that. You don't shut down and practically disassociate for an hour because you don't know what to say. There was absolutely something wrong with the way he shut down after the whole thing but she didn't push for answers and he apologized and they just decided to forget it ever happened. They never aim to actually hurt one another, they just don't have many ways to actually get out their frustrations. They never once actually physically hurt the other more than once each. It's just not something either of them wants to go through again, honestly. If their arguments don't end with one of them going too far and the two felt like shit and making up within seconds one of them will eventually storm off and they'll both get super petty. Making sarcastic remarks at one another whenever they see each other, pointedly ignoring the other, the occasional mean prank. Usually, they forget all about it within a week, though, because as stubborn as they are something dumb happens to one of them and they'll need to vent. None of their fights are ever serious, as nasty as they are, so it's easy to get over and never gets mentioned again.
- They had one serious fight that actually put their friendship in danger. Tabii had ended up crying to Sasha because she was devastated over being rejected by Neil. Like, she was super broken up about how he doesn't love her and it's probably because she's ugly even though Erin told her she wasn't. Sasha wasn't happy about it. At all. Like, she normally just rolls her eyes and brushes it off whenever she sees Tabii going after him, but she watched so many stupid cliche high school movies where the girl got the guy if he was good and anyone who rejects the protagonist is an asshole. So Sasha, going by movie logic, was pretty sure that Neil was insulting Tabii by rejecting her and was a terrible person. She also failed to realize that Tabii's whole attitude towards pursuing Neil was kinda creepy and stalkerish to begin with and she already had a low opinion of him since he's a nerd who called her a cunt and hangs out with Nikki, who she also hates. She did not like seeing one of her best friends in the world (who's basically like a sister to her tbh) cry. So Sasha, with a burning rage towards Neil, wound up spilling the whole thing to Max. And he wasn't happy with her for insulting his friend either. Max basically cussed Sasha out because Tabii's behavior was creepy and it was making Neil super uncomfortable, which he was not cool with. He told her she was a moron if she saw nothing wrong with how Tabii acted but thought that Neil was out of line for rejecting her. Sasha didn't take well to being called a moron or to her friend being accused of being creepy, and she said something along the lines of "It's not my fault you hang out with a retarded nerd and a girl who can't even be a girl properly". Max basically called her an ignorant bitch and told her to go fuck herself, then he left. Normally their arguments are long and wordy and even violent but this time he just cut it short and stormed out. Sasha still thought she was right, of course, because that boy who Max was friends with had made Tabii cry and he was a moron for not liking her! And yeah maybe the insults to Nikki weren't exactly called for but every word was true, right? She just kinda expected Max to get over it eventually but a few weeks passed and he never really did. The fact that Max had called her ignorant kinda stuck out to her more than anything. That's the same thing Neil had called her, isn't it? Why would they both use the same insult? It's not like that was a go-to thing to call somebody. The whole thing drove her crazy and eventually when she confronted him about it she got a long lecture about how romantic relationships work, the fact that bullying a girl over dressing or acting slightly differently from her is a shitty thing to do, and that calling Neil 'retarded' is offensive because he's actually mentally ill and even if he weren't, the word's still terrible. She didn't quite understand all of it but she got enough to feel guilty and she apologized. Sasha still doesn't really like Nikki and Neil much and it's not like she's stopped shit-talking them, but she's eased up a bit because she doesn't want Max that angry at her again, and in a way she can see how she maybe...was a tiny bit wrong.
- They don't normally get super sad or deep on each other. Neither really likes to be emotional or open up so they wouldn't exactly initiate any sort of depressing dialogue. However, they are both observant people so they notice things anyway. Max notices how Sasha talks a little too much about her weight and thinks anything over one hundred pounds is horrifically obese to the point where she diets incessantly. He notices that she cares too much about looking young and pretty too. Damned highschool movies. Sasha, on the other hand, notices that Max doesn't trust adults at all and that he flinches when she gets too loud (even if he tries to cover it up) and that he either doesn't sleep at all or sleeps way too often...amoung other things of course. They don't talk about these things out loud but they've both deduced that the other isn't healthy.
- Max practically forces Sasha to eat every time they see each other and refuses to watch a single movie with her that even mentions dieting in a positive light because she is ten years old and shouldn't be counting calories and refusing absolutely all fat. He'll insist on doing her makeup and will make sure to do it lighter and lighter every time because as much as he himself appreciates makeup and uses it to cover parts of his skin he doesn't like, she needs to be more confident and he can't in good conscience let her go on the way she's been going on. Sasha, on the other hand, if she ever notices he's having a bad day and isn't functioning well, will let him hide out with her all day even if she has other things to do and he should be at camp. Occasionally she'll even let Nikki or Neil in her room if she or they feel Max really needs their support (he can't just stay at his own camp, he'd never be allowed out of activities all day). She doesn't exactly understand why he's sad and tired and angry and has a hard time with sleep but she won't ask. Sasha has some theories on why he doesn't trust any adult and flinches when she yells but she doesn't like thinking on that one too long (his comment when she slapped him 'i've had worse' comes to mind). They're not always great at it and they don't always understand but they try to help each other even if they have an unspoken rule not to ask questions.
- While they normally spend their hang-out time watching movies or doing each other's makeup/hair/nails or talking crap about other's behind their backs, they've occasionally had adventures of their own. They typically leave Lake Lilac for these, honestly. Sasha couldn't care less about anything going on at Camp Campbell and Max isn't about to get involved in Flower Scout politics so if they're ever inclined to go on an adventure it's in town or even the big city. And usually involves crime one way or another tbh. Once they accidentally managed to get Max elected mayor of the whole town and Sasha as treasurer. Money was embezzled, fires were set, and they're now banned from muffin tops for life. That's the kind of adventure those two have whenever they're compelled to do anything at all. Go big or go home, basically.
- They're actually super honest with each other. The general light-hearted nature of their friendship and the fact that they gossip and chatter about pretty much everything that pops into their heads means they don't exactly stress about getting judged or anything like that as long as they aren't confessing to horrific sins or anything.
- They love to fuck with Pikeman. Like they normally just sit around at the Flower Scout's camp or out in town or the city or something like that but occasionally they'll screw him over because they both can agree he's an incompetent asshole who deserves it.
- Sasha flipped her shit when she realized that Max knows how to bake, cook, sew, and knit (he definitely can knit and sew we’ve seen him do it in the show and I headcanon he’d have to learn to cook and stuff cause his parents don’t feel like doing it for him) She nearly died and made him sew/knit her a bunch of stuff for her and decided they had to bake together and she was just super happy about it. Once upon a time, she would've judged him for it because of gender roles and stuff and she wasn't used to guys doing any of those things, but after the whole incident where he called her an ignorant bitch she wasn't gonna push it and besides, she was happy to have her gossip and makeup buddy also be able to do those other things with her. Like she can do those things with Tabii and Erin too but Max kinda gets her and she needs a break from the two sometimes.
- Most people don't actually know they're friends. Nikki and Neil are vaguely aware they hang out but they don't see much besides the occasional banter when the Flower Scouts and Camp Campbell interact as a group. Max doesn't talk about Sasha much around them since he knows they don't exactly like her. Sasha doesn't dare mention their friendship around Tabii and Erin because they'd freak out completely and probably assume they're dating since those two don't realize guys and girls can actually have platonic friendships. She doesn't want that drama. Their friendship is kinda a secret, which is surprising since they may not talk about it but they visit each other and chat enough when they cross paths that you'd think people would realize. But they're kinda glad. Lake Lilac is a chaotic place and when they're hanging out it's one of the only times they even have the option of just relaxing.
(imma be real I literally came up with the idea of those two being really close friends because I watched the episode where Nikki hung out with Dolph and Nerris and I thought 'Max have other friend too? :0')
Literally, ANY input is welcome. I spent multiple hours on this so if you have anything to say you know I'm down for a conversation about it
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(~1,500 words / 6 mins)
google Zarus
- @contemplate-everything
Hah, I had forgotten about him, but when it comes to "The Gods are Racist," he isn't what I had in mind. (I'll tag in @samueldays and @morlock-holmes as well.)
To put it simply, in any fantasy setting in which there are multiple sapient species (to call them 'races' suggests a smaller difference between them than there is, in my opinion), we must wrestle with the question of why there is any species less intelligent, less kind, and shorter-lived than the smartest, kindest, longest-lived humanoids.
There are a whole lot of different perspectives we can take on this, which makes it a fertile creative territory.
There are, broadly, four major reasons a species can be evil (or 'evil') in a fantasy setting: environment, culture, innate, or selected.
1. Environment.
In a friend's setting, orcs are not less intelligent or inherently more bloodthirsty than humans, but have been pushed onto more marginal lands that have less productivity, making it harder for them to develop 'civilized' agricultural states. They end up more likely to raid as well, as their economic production for advanced goods is lower.
A species could also be otherwise normal, but are widely hooked on evil magic drugs that just aren't available in other areas, or have a local environmental pressure that murders kind people.
2. Culture.
A species may worship an evil god and exist within a culture of self-sustaining evil norms, where social approval is based on being evil and altruistic people are considered exploitable morons. A member of that culture has, as their entire life experience, expectations formed on this basis.
3.A. Innate (Body)
A species may have a fundamental evil resource conflict with another species. For instance, a vampire who must murder one human a year to survive would have to be crazy moral in other ways (such as, I dunno, holding closed a gate to the infernal realms?) not to come out, on balance, quite evil just by surviving.
Alternatively, a species that has a very high fertility might quickly exhaust local carrying capacity and come into resource conflicts with neighbors more often.
3.B. Innate (Mind)
This is basically an AI safety argument. A species could be designed to enjoy cruelty more, or to be more xenophobic, or more paranoid, or to have more bloodlust or less inhibition, just as an AI could be designed to be a paperclip maximizer. In a fantasy setting it can be an absolute binding, but it could easily just be an increased frequency. Imagine having an implant in your head that rewards being a bad person.
A species might also not be innately more evil, but have greater risk factors, such as a natural craving for power and complexity, or an ability to consciously control their own sense of empathy for others.
4. Selected
A species (such as fiends) may be impossible to become or impossible to remain as without being evil. Thus, the entire population of that species consists of evil people, or people who were once extremely evil.
I actually like all of these, as they provide a rich palette to paint with and can be used to create morally-challenging scenarios when used together. Giving orcs the capability to be good but having a tougher time of it will tie the clerics and paladins in knots - but also more clearly separates them from the neutral and evil characters.
And let's give four reasons for their existence as well.
1. Evolution
In our world, humans ended up being the only sapient species, but in a world with magic, evolution might go in very different directions. It could be simply that no one made goblins on purpose, but a sapient species with short lifespans, small resource usage, and high fertility has an evolutionary edge in many regions, particularly when technology levels are low.
On the flip-side, elves living for such a long time allows them to access more magic and more complex magic, resulting in a feedback loop in environments where magic resources are rich. Same for intelligence, which is used for developing and casting spells - but also for finding mutually-beneficial arrangements.
In a magic-evolutionary environment, it's possible that the species create the gods rather than the other way around, so they tend to (probably accidentally) create deities that reflect their strategies and tactics, which then reinforce them both culturally and environmentally.
2. Evil Deities
Evil deities are, well, evil. In the interests of spreading their evil influence, it would make sense to create evil sapient creatures, even if a handful of them will defect to good. The suffering of these creatures matters little to their creators, as evil deities are evil. This seems to be the usual reasoning.
3. Divine Ecology
If gods need prayers, then a logical thing to do is to deliberately create sapient species that will worship you. Creating an evil species is like creating a brainwashed population, only it's down to the innate level so it's even more effective. This evil species also won't have moral objections to spreading your worship by conquering the rest of the planet.
Alternatively, species may not be equally easy to create. Creating an elf species might cost Divine Points, which then can't be used for shaping mountains or adding oceans or building temples or something. It might also be high-risk - long life may mean low fertility, which could be devastating if there's some kind of depopulation event.
4. Mortals & Evil Mortals
In this scenario, both the long-lived species (like elves) and the short-lived or 'evil' species (like goblins) were deliberately engineered on purpose, probably by evil wizards. Who was going to stop them? Paladins? That sounds like a quest!
This situation may have occurred much earlier, in a more advanced body-hopping fantasy-transhumanist civilization, where elves were high-end 'sleeves' and goblins were cheap and expendable bodies that people would exit once the time period was up. Then that civilization collapsed, and the body-hopping technology was lost... until now...
This gives us multiple options for a "The Gods are Racist" campaign.
1. Undoing the Dark Gods' Handiwork - A group of adventurers set out to remove the evil influence that the Dark Ones exert over orcs and goblins, and possibly increase their lifespan and intelligence to be similar to that of humans (or even elves). The Good gods support this quest.
BRANCH: The Dark Ones do exist and do corrupt the orcs, but the original technology used by the body-hopping civilization to create orcs is discovered, calling into question just who or what the good deities are, since this is completely incompatible with the creation mythology.
BRANCH: Removing the evil influence is possible (and successful), but increasing the lifespan is not, imposing a moral dilemma.
2. Undoing the Gods' Handiwork - A group of scientific-rationalist transhumanist adventurers challenge the deities, which in a more Greek god type way, have made the different species different without appropriate moral evaluation.
BRANCH: Turns out the Greek gods are just very powerful and very obnoxious wizards that have become full of themselves over the millennia. No higher entity is discovered with certainty. Subsequently voluntary species-change technology is introduced; only thanks to vanquishing the wizards is its energy cost economically feasible.
BRANCH: Turns out the Greek gods were once mortal and they would really like to retire from this deity thing. They scout the adventurers as their replacements, who end up having to make a lot of similar decisions due to similar resource constraints, just like the last batch and the batch before that.
3. Elf Supremacy - A group of adventurers find a magical device able to turn other sapients into elves. They discover this when they accidentally use it on themselves.
BRANCH: This is part of a plot by the Elf Deity (who is Evil) to transform everyone into elves, thus taking all worship in the entire world for himself. The party must root out and stop this vile Elf Conspiracy; unfortunately being an elf is considered so desirable that the conspiracy has many backers and this proves difficult. They end up having to take assistance from rival evil deities.
BRANCH: At first they use this device for immense profit, because so many people want to be elves, before discovering the effects are contagious, unleashing the (involuntary) Elf (Transformation) Plague. It turns out this was why the technology was not used before, and they must embark on a quest to stop it on behalf of the Elf Deity, before the other deities go to war.
BRANCH: As a subversion, it turns out there’s nothing especially dangerous about the technology at all. The adventurers spend the rest of the campaign increasing their opportunities for their company, Elf Inc., to make huge amounts of money, and occasionally being challenged by conservative elements in other societies as they expand their markets.
4. Newly Unequal - All the species were equal until just a few hundred years ago.
BRANCH: This was the result of an elf supremacist wizard using magic to transfer other species' positive attributes to elves. The quest to stop him failed. Fortunately, this power is concentrated in a series of physical artifacts that can be destroyed. Elves aren't even a 'real thing,' but rather are descendants of a specific kingdom at the time of the switch, which has used this transferred power to subjugate the other 'species'.
BRANCH: Every kingdom in the world is still trying to figure out what happened as the global political situation has been rapidly destabilizing. It turns out that actually, this is what the species are normally like (in the absence of intervention), and a series of magical stations built by an ancient empire drained energy from more powerful species and transmitted it to less powerful species for the benefit of ideology and political stability. The adventurers face a moral choice in reactivating it, not least because the effect will rapidly kill some of the oldest members of the high-power species.
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My Top Ten Anime, a chaotic list
This was so hecking difficult, I’m gonna have to do some ‘honourable mentions’ for ones I can’t bring myself to leave out. This list is based entirely on my personal feelings, not an objective assessment of what are logically the best anime. There also may be mild spoilers at points because I can’t control myself. Doing this in quarantine cause I looove ranting about things I like.
10) Attack On Titan
This was the first anime I ever watched, and it blew my mind a bit tbh. The music is iconic, and the animation is great as well. It might have been a bit harrowing for my first experience with anime, but I absolutely loved the story. It’s set in a world where titans (man eating giants) have driven the dregs of humanity to live within giant stone walls. There’s a group of humans trying to research titans, kill them, and protect humanity, and the main character decides to join them after a titan breaks through one of the walls and his mother is eaten. It’s one of those where you think you know everything and suddenly the world gets turned upside down by a new discovery. All the puzzle pieces start fitting together the longer you watch, and you find out that everything going on is much bigger than what it originally seemed (government conspiracy time lads). The plot twists are unpredictable (for me at least) and devastating, and the emotion this series evokes is awesome - you can FEEL the sheer desperation of the characters, their rage and despair as they fight again and again against a seemingly unending enemy. Despite almost every battle being a suicide mission and despite too many losses, the characters keep going out of the human need to survive and protect.
10/10 for brutality and gore, but also theme of hope.
9) Naruto
A founding father of anime. Surprisingly not one of the first I watched, in fact it took me a few years to start. It’s set in a feudal Japan where ninjas are the defenders and servers of the people, and different villages have different ninja styles. Naruto is a young boy with a dangerous spirit sealed inside him which has caused him to be shunned by society (even though it’s not his fault??), and he wants to become a ninja. First off I’m a sucker for the Naruto archetype: dumbass, cocky, obnoxious, but kind and loyal too. Years of solitude and ostracisation as a child mean that Naruto desperately wants people to acknowledge him, and he intends to become the Hokage to prove himself. There’s a huge range of characters and villains, all with cool ninjutsus and different philosophies. Friendship, power, and determination are some of the main themes and it makes me so proud to see my son *COUGH* Naruto progressing and learning from his mistakes. It IS a long boi though and I haven’t even finished Shippuden yet, but I think Naruto captures the essence of shounen anime and is a great underdog story. Manga is lit too.
10/10 for cool battles and great characters.
8) Psycho Pass
One of the earlier anime I watched, and it became an instant favourite for the way it makes you question morality. It’s set in a kinda dystopian future Japan, where a technology called the Sibyl System checks people’s mental state and determines their ‘crime coefficient’ - how likely they are to commit a crime. The main character is a young woman who joins the police and begins to realise that blindly following this system is perhaps not the best way to go about things. For example, they have special guns that automatically kill people whose crime coefficients are over a certain level, but she soon proves that you can easily lower someone’s coefficient by talking them down and negotiating instead of killing them off immediately. It’s got great drama, great government conspiracy, compelling villains, and some really badass characters. It pushes the question of what is right or wrong, and how far technology should go when it comes to justice.
10/10 for sociological debate and horror elements.
7) One Punch Man
OPM is an anime that stands out for me, partially for mocking the tropes of battle anime, and partially for the uniqueness of the main character’s predicament. It’s set in Japan where heroes and villains exist, and the protagonist is a man called Saitama who gained superstrength after doing 100 push-ups, 100 sit-ups, 100 squats, and a 10K run every day. However he’s become so strong that he can defeat every enemy with a single punch. Nothing is a challenge for him anymore so he becomes depressed and unfulfilled; he’s still a good man who helps people, but he feels he’s missing something from his life. A cyborg called Genos makes Saitama his master, determined to learn his ways and they become friends. It’s one of the first anime that made me laugh out loud; it’s funny and entertaining, but also shows us that power is not equal to happiness.
10/10 for moral lessons and good jokes.
6) Tanaka-kun is Always Listless
The only slice of life anime on this list and not very well known, however it has a special place in my heart. The main character Tanaka is a boy who dozes off constantly and acts exhausted when awake; he loves expending as little energy as possible. His best friend Ohta looks out for him and essentially makes sure he doesn’t get lost/ be late/die on a daily basis, including carrying him when he just falls asleep sometimes. Although Tanaka seems uncaring, it’s shown that friendship isn’t a bother to him, and he realises that he actually relies on his friends despite saying he likes being left in peace. His friends all have great personalities, my personal faves are a tough gangster girl who’s rude to everyone EXCEPT her adorable loli girlfriend, and a popular girl who’s trying too hard to fit in and starts to become more herself after befriending Tanaka. All the characters share one brain cell, and it’s genuinely a funny anime - I’ve burst out laughing watching it a few times. Also Tanaka and Ohta are extremely shippable if you want to go down that route; it’s said several times in the series that they’re like an old married couple.
10/10 for wholesomeness and comedy.
5) Ouran High School Host Club
Another lighthearted show, probably the anime that’s made me laugh the most out of any. It’s set at an academy for rich-as-heck kids, and there’s a ‘Host Club’ where all the girls go to drink tea with a group of handsome boys. There’s the cunning Kyouka, prankster identical twins Hikaru and Kaoru, stoic Mori, adorable Honey, and princely but obnoxious Tamaki. Haruhi, a working-class scholarship student who is mistaken for a boy, accidentally breaks a precious vase and is forced by the host club to join them to pay off her debt. The group of boys realise fairly quickly that haruhi is a girl, but she becomes a popular host amongst the girls (LOVE the secret lesbian vibes) so they keep up the charade. I think I have a weakness for groups that share one brain cell because aside from Kyouka, they’re all idiots. I also love how flexible the show is with ideas of gender and sexuality despite being a slightly older anime. The daily antics of the host club combined with their personalities is a recipe for comedy, and they’re all lovable in their own ways.
10/10 for characters, drama, and comedy; it’s well-paced too.
4) Bungou Stray Dogs
Set in an alternate modern Japan where some people have secret abilities that can be activated, this anime became an obsession when I first watched it. The cast of characters is amazing and the villains are awesome too. Atsushi is an orphan who discovers he can turn into a powerful tiger, and is hired by the Armed Detective Agency, a small organisation of powerful individuals who fight crime. NEED I SAY ANY MORE?? Many of the main characters share names with famous Japanese authors such as Osamu Dazai and Ryūnosuke Akutagawa which is really cool and something that might add to the story more if I had an understanding of Japanese literature. Anyways the main character Atsushi is kind of a wimp at first (understandably because the world of ability-users is actually terrifying), but he learns to stand up for himself and use his ability to save people. The show’s mixing of dark and comedic tones is perfect to me; one moment a character is off his head on mushrooms and the next Atsushi’s leg is brutally sliced off in a back alley fight (it regenerates later no worries). The plot is really cool and full of intrigue, and eventually you get the whole ‘Usually we’re sworn enemies but we’re forced to become allies in the face of a greater evil’ thing and it’s great! Turns out our main guy and our main bad guy are actually a pretty powerful and efficient team, hoho??
10/10 for supernatural detectives being super cool.
3) Yuri!!! on Ice
Y’all already know what’s going on. Ice skating, emotional breakthroughs, gay shit, HIT ME WITH IT. The story follows Yuri Katsuki, an insecure figure skater trying to regain his confidence, and his self-appointed coach Viktor Nikiforov. Viktor is enthusiastic in helping Yuri train, and Yuri has been a big fan of Viktor since his childhood *throws pillow across the room*. Yuri becomes determined to, quote, “surpass Viktor’s wildest imagination”, and they end up agreeing - through a series of convoluted events - to get married if Yuri wins gold at the olympics (I think it’s the olympics??). Either fuckin way this series has angst, humour, cuteness, and god DAMN did I get invested. When Yuri was doing his free skate my own heart was beating harder than it did when I finished a 10K. Love the vibes and also it’s the closest to full healthy gay representation that I’ve seen in anime for a while. Not much more I can say, but do I really need to say more???
10/10 for GAY and MY HEART
2) Kimetsu No Yaiba (Demon Slayer)
Ok this one’s kind of a cheat cause I’ve read the manga as well which is way ahead of the anime, but FUCC. It takes place in the Taisho Era in Japan (begins 1912), where Demons exist who eat people. Tanjiro Kamado’s family is killed by a demon one night and his sister Nezuko is turned into a demon - but it is soon discovered she’s different to other demons, and can restrain herself. Tanjiro joins the Demon Slayer Corps to try and track down a cure for his sister, while proving that demons are not inherently evil. I LOVE Tanjiro as a main character because he values kindness over everything else, not forgiving demons for their sins but recognising they are tormented creatures, trying to give them peace before they die. All demons were once human - a fact that only Tanjiro seems to remember when fighting them. He’s patient, gentle, and determined - hotheaded and brash sometimes, but he has this vibe that just makes people become his friend/respect him even if they don’t intend to. He befriends two other slayers - Inosuke, an absolutely feral Best Boy who was raised by wild boars, and Zenitsu, a cowardly but ultimately loyal guy. This trio works really well together and Tanjiro is a great protagonist. Don’t even get me STARTED on the music and animation. Impeccable. Kamado Tanjiro No Uta makes me cry every time I hear it, and the water/fire effects used to show the metaphorical way the swords move like the elements takes my breath away.
10/10 for morals, music and animation.
1) Mob Psycho 100
Where the fuck do I start here. This anime is so unique in its style, story, and characters that I think it will always be my favourite. It follows Shigeo Kageyama (nicknamed Mob cause that’s what they call extras and background characters in Japan), a plain boy with incredible psychic powers that explode when his emotions are too high. Over time he’s learned to suppress his emotions, causing him to become socially inept and emotionally withdrawn. His (fake) psychic ‘master’, Reigen, uses him to make money exorcising spirits, making Mob believe that it’s for ‘training’. Mob appears naive at times, but he is so simply kind to people that it makes my heart hurt. Unlike many of the egomaniac psychics that Mob comes across, he recognises that without powers, he is just an ordinary boy. Mob’s greatest power isn’t his OP psychic abilities, but his power to show people they can change, that he can change. He forgives (and eventually befriends) people who have tried to kill him. Redemption and empathy are big themes here and they’re done really well.
The other characters are so well rounded and are also given time to grow, including Reigen - at first he’s a seemingly manipulative sleazebag, but later you see that he is a genuinely good man who has taught Mob many lessons and helped him grow up. This is a core message - Mob’s ability to change is due to support from his friends, not purely his own desire - people need other people!
This is also one of the true rarities in anime where the second season is absolutely just as good (if not better!) than the first one. The music is unique to the show, the ops for both seasons get me litty, the animation is incredible, the jokes are great and although it’s not all about big-ass fights, when we do get a big-ass fight it’s so fucking cool. The fight sequences are beautifully animated and visually stunning. MP100 makes me laugh, cry like an actual baby, and want to become a better person. Idk I could literally write pages on it like the big nerd I am but that’s all I’ll do for now.
10/10 for literally everything.
HONOURABLE MENTIONS
Given : about a boy who joins a band which helps him work through his trauma. Lovely healthy gay representation and themes of healing.
Samurai Champloo : ragtag trio consisting of two samurai - one lowkey feral and does breakdancing, the other lofty and withdrawn - and a bold young girl. Themes of friendship and journeys. I simp for the lofty samurai.
Cowboy Bebop: jazzy music, bounty hunters in space, 90s anime WHAT MORE COULD U WANT. Yet another group of characters that share a single brain cell. Love it.
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Brio - “stop making empty promises!”
The first time Beth thinks about divorce, it’s several years in. They don’t have any kids yet, but the mortar of Dean helping with her mom’s medical bills is fresh, sticky and binds them to each other. He works and she manages their lives, preparing meals, running their errands, and helps Annie and Gregg and Sadie. Her life with Dean itches, and it blankets her like thick wool.
She always maintained straight A’s, despite working part-time and babysitting on the side. She volunteered with Key Club, was active in Student Council, even though as she grew older she no longer had enough time for orchestra. Despite all the hurdles growing up, she had hoped she would be the first in her family to graduate from college. She finished twenty credits at Wayne County with an impeccable GPA before her mother’s medical bills became too much. Her mom needed her, Annie needed her, and there was Dean. And now here they are.
At first, she thinks it’s a mean-spirited, passing thought. Except, it sits with her. With her mother dead, her father gone, all that she has left in the world is Annie, herself, and Dean. And Dean is sweet, goofy and he helped her laugh through the stifling fog of her mother’s illness. However, despite how stable it is, Beth knows that she doesn’t love him.
A few months later, she becomes pregnant for the first time. Beth is nervous, a complete wreck, and she is also filled with love and hope. She picks Dean. She picks growing her family. She decides to stay.
Over the years, the thought comes and goes. After three more children, after post-partum, and depression, and anxiety, and soul-crushing boredom - forget love. Beth doesn’t know if she could look at Dean with any warm and fuzzies again. After each birth, it rises, festering, but she doesn’t know if she’s strong enough. She thinks, if it gets really bad, worse than this tolerable bad, she’ll do it. She’ll divorce him. She promises it to herself.
It’s twenty years into her marriage when she discovers the infidelity. It devastating blow, but she’ll make do. Then, she pieces together the rest and she’s fifteen again, finding herself about to be swallowed whole by the precariousness of her class and financial standing. Worst of all, this time her kids are coming with her, too. It burns. Her thoughts alternate between survival and revenge. They swallow her up. She promises herself that now, or once she figures all of this out, the extent of his betrayal and how she will right it, she will divorce his lying, cheating ass. She promises herself that she will devour him, crush him into nothing after she’s finished.
In the midst of all of her pain when she’s certain there will never be sex or love or companionship in her life, enters a crime boss. The challenge of him sets her alight in a completely different way. He recognizes her and helps her to better understand herself.
One late night, over bourbon and scheming, he turns to her and asks, “Why you with him?”
The tenor is sexual as it always is with Rio. But, she sees that he’s curious if not confused. It’s funny because just several months ago wasn’t she sitting in a car with him, saying that there was no logical explanation for them to be together, and here he is questioning the existence of her high school sweetheart. The one he shot, but didn’t kill. And she’s still here, alone in a room with him.
She doesn’t have an answer for Rio.
---
More and more, Beth surprises her sister, her best friend, and especially her husband. She even surprises Rio. But most importantly she surprises herself. She realizes how much she has to learn about who she is and what she’s capable of. However, something that doesn’t surprise her is how quickly she can adapt to things that are unbearable. There’s been a complete upheaval of her life, but at the end of the day, she’s still married to Dean. She doesn’t know how to pull the trigger here. She tells herself it’s easier for the kids. She consoles herself that she’s absolutely going to do it, just not yet.
Time moves forward. The next year is a rollercoaster. What she has with Rio sours. Beth pulls a literal trigger and when she comes to she realizes it’s the last thing she could have ever wanted. She moves ghost-like through her life, and she can’t finish the paperwork for the divorce. Then, Rio reappears, is seemingly resurrected. Business is back to how it used to be. But, they will never be what they once were. She did this. This is absolutely her fault. The unbearability of her life with Dean pales to this pain. She is exhausted by surviving Rio’s wrath and all the thoughts she has of contrition.
Another night, there’s no bourbon, but it’s the two of them alone, and they’re talking business. Her phone lights up and she grits her teeth. Dean should know better than to call her when she’s working, and she thinks that he has such little regard for her time that he must have forgotten. She deliberates taking the call for a moment, and then she sends it to voicemail.
Rio’s watching her and a detached curiosity colors his face. “Why you still with him?”
It’s a good question. Dean has moved out and works at a hot tub store now. She can see how he talks about his coworker and knows that it’s over. Their custody schedule is solid and the kids have adjusted the new routine. Her excuse used to be that they didn’t have the money to go through with the divorce proceedings. But, now business is good. It’s been good since before Rio returned with his vengeance and they continue to be profitable business partners. She doesn’t have much emotion left for her husband, all of it siphoned to nurturing her children, supporting her loved ones, withstanding Rio’s punishing distance and cruel turns of phrase. She has nothing left for Dean but brittleness.
She bites her lip. “It’s easier.”
There’s a moment where Rio frowns at her. Her heart squeezes when she almost reads concern or disappointment, but the expression shifts and it’s clearly a sneer.
She takes a breath, and powers through the rest of the planning, with this indispensable person who hates her. Then she sends him home, and settles into her solitude, with her children fast asleep in their beds.
-
When it finally happens, it happens little by little. Divorce doesn’t happen in a day. They re-sign the papers. They hire attorneys. There’s no contest so it moves speedily enough. There’s one long session where they sit down together and with their lawyers and document a custody agreement, officially divide assets that were informally divided months ago. Afterward, Beth humors Dean, and they go out for a celebratory drink. He confirms what she suspected, and tells her that Gayle will be moving in with him at the end of her lease. It’s bittersweet.
Gayle is amazing. She will be an incredible ally in their co-parenting situation. Beth liked her from the first time they met. And Dean has grown but Beth can’t help but feel worried for Gayle and overall judgey of Dean and his hare-brained decisions. It’s not until she gets home, and relieves Annie from her babysitting duties, that she realizes what she’s also feeling is lonely. Even surrounded by these munchkins she loves, even with the thrill and success of her small-business career and criming, even with her sister’s ad hoc ways of showing support and Ruby’s ways of reminding her to care for herself. Right now, she’s just feeling it.
-
Eventually, all the paperwork is processed, and the court enters the judgment. Her attorney calls to confirm the good news. She’s free.
She doesn’t know how she feels, she doesn’t know that she feels anything. It’s finally happened. She calls out sick from the shop. She doesn’t get into it with Ruby and Annie, just says she’s coming down with something and spends the rest of the day in bed. Beth realizes that she feels awful, and it’s not for the loss of Dean or some glorification of their marriage. She feels mournful, devastated by the loss of who she was forced to be for years. She made herself small and pristine and performed a token version of herself as a person, a wife and a mother for so long. She can’t stop crying.
It’s quiet tears and then it swells and sobs rise up from her throat. Sometimes she pushes her hot, splotchy face to the pillows and is swallowed by her grief. She toddles around the house, eats a little bit, and collapses in her bed for a second day.
In the early evening, just after sunset, she startles, hearing the lock turn in the doors facing the backyard. Rio’s silhouette is in the doorway as he pauses and adjusts to the darkness in the bedroom. He must have used the hideaway key.
There’s nothing boss about her having been in bed crying for a second day. Her hair is matted, her skin is splotching, and she is still so sad. She remembers that he’s seen her worse. The memory makes her feel nauseous, and she hides her face, wrapping her arms around her knees.
Rio moves towards her and pulls back the covers, sliding into her bed. His arms wrap around her. She leans into the hollow of his throat and he murmurs, “You’re gonna be okay, Elizabeth.”
She smells his cologne and that scent that’s just him. She feels the cotton of his shirt against her sensitive skin, and the brush of his lips at her forehead. And the grief hurts, it really does, but she believes him.
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true canon: an explanation
True Canon is set in a typical High Fantasy D&D ye olden age world, with monsters and magic and dragons galore. It started out focused entirely on Eve and Viktor and a few others’ travels through a country called Witherhurst, and as we made more characters and stories and kingdoms, we expanded the scope of WotOG (the original D&D game) to cover all of them, until we had a nice world built up around the characters. Since not all of the stories related to the events of WotOG (and WotOG part 2: Electric Boogaloo), we decided to change the name to True Canon, so we knew which universe for sure was the foundation upon which our Many AU’s Stand. Here’s a quick n dirty timeline, for reference:
(much more under the cut)
-Eve, Viktor, and a few others that aren’t relevant to the story travel around Witherhurst on a job or something from a lady who’s Definitely Not Important At All (Her name is Prenella). At some point Prenella ditches the party and they’re stuck without a cleric for a while
-They make it to a big city, and through shenanigans that include travelling the city for fun and also almost dying to a pack of rabid dogs, Eve convinces Intem to join the party.
-Eve, Vik, and now Intem (plus one more pc) unravel a cult plot, something about the end of the world, blah blah nothing really important there. They end up taking out the cult and fighting Prenella, the cult’s leader, who also happens to be a dragon. Neat.
-After that horrifying ordeal, the party reconvenes and decides, ‘fuck it, let’s go find a new place to travel together’ and thus board a ship that they then steal from the captain (after Intem’s “pet” eats said captain).
-So begins the few years the party spends as pirates.
-Things happen, they end up fighting an eldritch god for world-ending rights, and go on their merry way.
- Intem falls into the role of reluctant (but no less ruthless) pirate captain, with vik as his first mate and eve as navigator (despite the fact that she can’t read. they figure it out)
-This is around the time Intem goes from lilac-haired sunshine boy to disgruntled cynic who’s Done With Your Shit, Viktor.
-Eventually the crew docks, and picks up Therai and Pippin for a while. Eve also brings up the idea of reviving Vik’s old travelling companion, Dante (two bros, chillin in a tavern, no feet apart ‘cause they’re so gay), and Intem’s like “Sure why the fuck not” and they set off to find his grave or whatever.
-Hatch and Xander are in the area and end up getting picked up by the crew.
-Dante gets revived, and for the next year or so, everything is fine.
-Eventually the crew docks near Therai’s old home kingdom, and he dips, taking Pippin, Xander, and Hatch with him (he really only meant to take Pip). They spend a while travelling to his kingdom, Aer-Vinn, and encounter Hatch’s long time (boy)friend Aerglo. He joins the party, at Hatch’s request.
-A little while later (vague time frame I know but exact years don’t matter here), there’s some Good Therai Angst when- Shock! Horror! - they end up stumbling upon Tal, who shares ~history~ with Therai. Not the good kind, mind you. They leave soon after meeting Tal.
-There’s a few more encounters with Therai’s old companion before Tal eventually softens up and joins the party, hell yeah. Warren joins too, because he was nearby and Also shares ~history~ with Therai and Tal. (They were all in a party together before this)
-AT THE SAME TIME THIS IS GOING ON: Rain sets out on a holy mission from their church to prove themselves worthy of being a Paladin of the Church.
-They meet Rosemary along the way, and after a small adventure together, they decide to help Rose out and find Catherine with her, because a while back Rose accidentally turned Catherine into, well, a cat.
-They do find Cat, after she’d gone through some Shit in an alternate dimension featuring a Sun Goddess and her complete mental breakdown. Cat Killed A Goddess (or two, we’ll see how the campaign goes), and made friends with the cousins Mikhail and Valentine. Mikhail doesn’t matter to the timeline right now.
-Anyway, Rain and Rose find Cat, and settle down in a little seaside village where they work together to turn Cat back into a human.
-They Succeed!!!
-Uh-oh there’s a stranger at the door- Oh! It’s just Rain’s Cleric friend from their church, Rahon! Turns out Rain kinda went MIA and everyone back home is having a Panic, so Rahon’s here to make sure Rain is alive and well, or collect their belongings if they’re not-
-But they’re alive, so Rahon calms down and decides to stay (after sending a message back home, of course), to keep an eye or two on Rain.
-Rain is Delighted :)
-The party (minus kal) were traveling somewhere, kal ended up going the same way, and they ended up in the same city for a while. rahon saw her Up To No Good, so he kept an eye on them and saw them getting stabbed, and decided to nurse her back to health, and thus Kal Joins The Party. Rahon is an absolute sweetheart to them
-Eventually Rose, Cat, and Rain head out to a nearby cave system bc of Reasons, and end up kinda sorta stumbling into a system that leads to this world’s version of the Underdark. They need help navigating, because Fuck These Tunnels Are Confusing, and come across a little hermit drow who’s living his “best” life in his underground hut with tattered clothes and ratty books and cracked glasses.
-He just wants to see the surface but is terrified of how the world will treat him if he goes up alone, so he offers to guide everyone through the Underdark in exchange for them taking him up to the surface. Everyone agrees
-Astralus, little hermit drow lad, does so, and soon finds himself stumbling out into broad daylight. He’s got light sensitivity and everything Burns, but he’s so fucking happy oh my gods. Also he’s crying but it’s okay, he’s kinda really emotional.
-Aster joins the party! And they find out he’s cousins with Rose, who practically adopted him as a brother anyway let’s be real.
-Somehow Val learns of Cat’s whereabouts, and pops by to say hi to his trauma buddy. Cue shock as he sees her as human for the first time. Aster develops an immediate crush, and takes to following Val around like a lost puppy.
-Val is having a Time because, Aster looks just like a person he knew in an alternate universe and things didn’t turn out well for them. Yikes.
-Val joins the party, if only to tease Cat and finally have a place to be for a while
-MEANWHILE: Bree finds an abomination living in the abandoned mineshafts near her village. She decides he could probably use a friend, since the entire village is pretty scared of/hostile towards him, and becomes that friend. She finds out his name is Ve, and he’s a sweetheart. She makes immediate friends and he teaches her sign language, because he Literally Doesn’t Have A Face, he can’t speak.
-A few weeks later, either Ve or Bree decide to leave bc Fuck This Town, except they don’t say Fuck because they’re both softe beans (they both legally cannot say fuck. and i actually had an idea for how they leave ovo). Either way, they leave, and through shenanigans, they pick up Three More Tieflings, what the hell, which is kinda funny because previously, Bree didn’t think tieflings existed at all.
-Tarvaii and Trancey are travelling together as a Chaotic Mischief Duo, and end up joining the party because Bree made friends
-Same situation with Chaym, though he was alone and depressed because his entire village got massacred. Bree made friends, and Chaym joined the party
-Chaym also ended up teaching Trancey magic, specifically Necromancy, which is kinda really stupid dangerous but it’s fine, Chaym survived, why shouldn’t Trancey? (flawed logic but okay Chaym)
-Cut to a few years later, back with Eve and Co.
-They’re in a tavern, Eve sees a depressed tiefling at the bar. What does she do? Immediately go try to cheer him up.
-She finds out he’d left his pregnant girlfriend on a mission to go help out somewhere, and ended up stuck in a weird place where time passes differently for him. It’s been 26 years, though to him it felt more like a handful of weeks. He’s scared and confused and would very much like to find his family, but he has no idea where he is.
-Eve’s heart breaks bc! he’s so sad and his girlfriend is pregnant and he’s got a family and just wants to get back to them, how could she not want to help? and thus she decides to help the tiefling, Viren, find his family.
-Through a series of events, the find out Viren’s family was living in a beautiful city built into the mountains, that fell quite a few years back. Luckily, his girlfriend left beforehand, and moved to a small mining town, where she gave birth to, and briefly raised, their son. She named him Ve, after his father, who she assumed was dead.
-There was a fire at one point, and Angelica, Viren’s girlfriend, died saving Ve. Viren is absolutely devastated when he finds out, and Eve offers to resurrect Angelica, y’know, bring the family together again, even if for just a short time.
-Vi agrees, and they do so! Woo! Also Eve and co. meet up with Ve for a while so the family really is back together.
-Intem, doing a sneaky trick, makes it so Angelica’s soul keeps the body and just, lives until the body dies, be it natural or unnatural causes. He only tells Eve and Angelica about it, and waits to see how long it takes Viren to realize ‘oh shit I’m not losing my fiance so soon’
-Also Viren and Angelica get engaged! Woo!
-A little while passes, Viren and Anne join the party, and Eve gets pregnant with Intem’s kids. At this point the party’s stopped adventuring, and they all settled down somewhere nice. Anyway Eve’s pregnant and gives birth to twins, Olive and Evergreen (Evan for short), but Olive looks more like Therai than Intem and it’s kinda weird, but nobody really minds because the twins are just, so cute. Also Therai (and co) came back and built the party a nice house, so, yeah.
-Olive and Evan grow up, and Evan takes an interest in Druid Magic. Vik lets Evan access his Giant Library and teaches him general magic stuff. Olive scares her whole ass family by taking an interest in Necromancy, and eventually someone gets in contact with Chaym (and by extension Trancey), and has him come over to teach Olive.
-Olive becomes a necromancer! And then heads off with Evan in tow to start their own life of adventuring.
-Eve has another kid, Avery, with Therai
-Olive befriends a Whole Ass Dragon, gives him the nickname Jade, and introduces him to Evan. By the time the trio make it back to Jade’s hoard, Avery’s taken on the role of Fighter and heads out into the world to do her own thing. She also meets Clover, another fighter, and they travel together for a while before joining Olive, Evan, and Jade.
-That’s it, that’s where we stopped on the timeline of True Canon. It’ll go on, of course, but, here’s the general timeline in 4 pages
#long post#true canon#so! there's the Entire true canon timeline#with some stuff missing here and there but i'm sure we'll get there#anyway this took an hour to write and took up four entire pages on our google doc#so. yeah#mod ash
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