#making it now much more similar to canon even though in the context of the image Ink Joey here is not a memory/copy and
Photo
illusion.
the art of mimicking real life.
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BATIM is officially 6 years old..oh jeez. A little hard to believe it's been this long. Six long years since the little devil that invaded my life was created. Where did the time go? Still,it's cool to see how far it's come. The journey so far has definitely been a rollercoaster of emotions,with ups and downs,but even so,I'm still glad I discovered this little guy. He definitely brought me a lot of good moments in recent times.
I didn't have anything really new or done specifically with the anniversary in mind,but I had this drawing I was trying to finish a while ago that I thought would be nice to post on the day. As we can see,this successively failed.I had the idea for this drawing since 2021, and I tried to execute it at the time, but I never made it past the sketches. Then last year I tried to redo it from scratch and since then I've been trying to finish it and post it on specific dates and failing successively.
But eventually, I manage to find the strength to finally end this piece altogether and put it behind me. The main drawings had been finished for a while,it was just a matter of doing...well,whatever the final result became. I confess that I didn't really know how to do the "broken mirror" idea at the beginning. And that wasn't even the original idea that I have in mind back in 2021.
I'll admit the first time I stopped and looked at the glass cracks I was unsure if I was liking how it was turning out. But it's better than nothing. And at the moment I'm just thinking "Bro, stop. You've done everything you could do in this drawing. It's over. Just let it go". So I'm going to do it.
Oh and Joey is here too,I forgot to mention that. Technically it was also his birthday too. So happy day of birth,pencil man. He's definitely going through something in this drawing.
This was mainly made with one of my AUs in mind and the events that happen in it,but I think if you look at it as something more “canon related” (close to canon?),it might work well too. I think at least.
Better finish this desc before it gets too long. As a bonus,here are the two main drawings I did for this piece,unedited (because I'm not going to show the edited versions,I assume they're kinda ugly separately) :
Call me "Bendy and the Ink Machine Remix and Lyric Video" because I was AHHH AHHH AHHH trying to finish this drawing.
#The phrase at the beginning of the text is not actually a definition of Illusion it's just a phrase I quoted from TIOL#or at least it's not a real definition i found#I just thought that in the context of the image itself the phrase made sense#batim#bendy and the ink machine#bendy and the dark revival#i guess#joey drew#idk if I should tag Memory Joey on this because considering this drawing is more geared towards the events of my AU than those of canon#+ the fact that I started this drawing before the release of BATDR#the Ink/Cycle Joey here is less ''a memory/copy of the original''#and more like the real deal you know#but at the same time I say this I decided to change the design of the Ink Joey that I was using at the time#to something similar to the one of M!Joey#making it now much more similar to canon even though in the context of the image Ink Joey here is not a memory/copy and#yeah maybe i should have used the old design#now I'm bothered lol;but fuck it#as I had said#if you look at this drawing as something made with canon in mind and not an AU; it might work well too#i.e. interpret it however you want;it's still connected to an AU at the end of the day but that doesn't mean it can't be seen in other ways#what other ways?#I don't know; you tell me. if you want#but hey; at least i wont have to change my AU for the thousandth time because of new canon info haha#damn; only now I find out that there is a tag limit;if anyone has read this far;hi;hope you had a nice week;okay I'll shut up now#crookedsmileart#batdr
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Happy Groundhog Day! I think it is so wonderful that there is an entire holiday dedicated to a specific burrowing rodent. Americans love this thing! And who wouldn't? Their burrows aerate soil, and provide homes for many other critters!
A lot of people wouldn't love the groundhog, actually. In 1883, the New Hampshire Legislative Woodchuck Committee put out a statement calling groundhogs "wayward sinners" whose grooming habits suggest good manners, but who in reality have "not made any material progress in social science". You think the Discourse is bad today? They used to form committees to complain about a squirrel's moral character!
However, this is not the extent of the disrespect toward groundhogs. It happens to this day, and we all take it for granted, and most don't even bother to realize it has to do with a marmot in the first place! Let's talk about...
Name: "Mole"
Debut: Whac-A-Mole
Sorry this picture is not very good. There are just not many pictures available that show that weird old "mole" figure that I have in mind specifically! Here's a green one.
Anyone familiar with the "Mole" series of animals will know that this is very much Not A Mole! The distinct head, the visible ears, the blunt nose, the buckteeth... this, my friend, is 100% Ground Squirrel! And this game is FAR from the only instance of moles and burrowing rodents being mixed up.
It actually makes sense that this mistake would happen, though! Moles are synonymous with burrowing, to the point unrelated burrowing animals are named after moles (including Mole Cricket, perhaps the ORIGINAL mole). But moles spend ALL their time burrowing, rarely if ever coming to the surface, so even though we all know moles, we are rarely blessed with SEEING moles. I have never seen a mole in person... yet! I would love to! Ground squirrels, such as groundhogs and prairie dogs, are also little burrowing critters, but these ones are commonly seen on the surface, ever alert. I think it's reasonable to mistake them for "moles"!
Alas, the popularity of Whac-A-Mole has cemented Ground Squirrel as essentially the "canon" Mole design for this context. And what a context that is! A classic, even GENRE-DEFINING game, all about whacking critters as they emerge from their burrows. So rude! They're not posing any danger, and the player isn't hunting them to eat, either. This is simply a game of spite. How DARE that rodent try to see the sun! This is just like Undertale.
Whac-A-Mole is one of the most straightforward types of game for any device with a touch screen or anything similar. Just gotta tap a thing! Very easy. This has led to such variations such as Whack-a-Monty from New Super Mario Bros., where the player bonks Monty Moles (more like Monty Gopher am I right) while sparing the many, many Luigis. Obviously, the Luigis must surface in order to initiate courtship, ensuring future generations of Luigis.
Now that I think of it, Mario is one of the only times I've seen the ethics of Whac-A-Mole called out, through the endangered Whacka from Paper Mario! I'm surprised the genre is not deconstructed more often (I love that this sentence is about Whac-A-Mole).
I think this is where I will end the post, because this silly game has so permeated human culture that I could go on and on and on! So strange that an entire animal now has a reputation of "pops out and gets bonked on the head". Conceptually, I certainly prefer the "parasitic aliens emerging from an astronaut's body orifices" aesthetic for this kind of game, but obviously kids aren't going out and bludgeoning real rodents because of this game, so whatever.
But still, what if instead of moles, the whacked entities were something humans have no problem attacking with a second thought...?
Get ready for an action-packed new game set in the Bowling universe!
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This one guy I talked to on AO3 said that Emilie shouldn't be brought back because Adrien has already moved on from her death, but I'm not so sure about that. Other people think she should be revived so she can be her own character and not just someone else's sad backstory, and so Adrien has one good parent, of course. What do you think?
I think that it depends on the story you want to tell. There are cases to be made for bringing her back and cases to be made for letting her die. In the context of canon, I find not bringing her back to be fing stupid because it makes everything feel pointless. We obviously don't know the wish yet, but why let Gabe make the wish at all if he's not going to restore Emilie? Making a different wish isn't him being a good guy at the end. It's still him playing god, he's just now using his god powers to abandon his son for no logical reason. What loving father happily leaves his son an orphan???
Yeah, Gabriel saved Nathalie. I don't care. Nathalie chose to use the peacock to support Gabriel in his plan to terrorize Paris. That wasn't some noble sacrifice on her part! She didn't deserve to be saved any more than Gabriel did. Of the three dying/dead parental figures (I really don't know Emilie's status) Emilie is the only one who was never tempted by the dark side if we ignore the uncomfortable implications of how they got the peacock in the first place/Adrien's childhood isolation and just embrace the canon narrative that Emilie was a good and loving mother who was Too Pure For This World.
Meanwhile, Nathalie was a terrible mother figure! She supported Gabriel's awful treatment of Adrien for four seasons and then spent all of season five gently prodding Gabriel to change/tell Adrien the truth while leaving Adrien completely in the dark to everything that was happening. If Gabriel hasn't won, then Adrien would have lost both his father and Nathalie who knew that they were dying, but never gave Adrien a chance to say goodbye because Nathalie never stopped putting Gabriel first in almost every way that mattered. Adrien still doesn't know that he could have been allowed say goodbye to his father because Gabriel's death was entirely predictable.
Along similar lines, I don't think that Nathalie was wrong to undo Gabriel's senticommands, but it is deeply messed up that she was happily doing it in secret and never once considered giving Adrien a chance to consent. A loving parent should find the idea of controlling their child deeply upsetting. She should have been tempted to tell Adrien the truth, especially since she knew that she was dying, but we never see her consider that.
She also does nothing to get Adrien's slave collar away from Gabriel or to stop Gabriel from terrorizing Paris even though we have a scene where she literally pins Gabriel to a table. Her turn to "good" did nothing but maintain the status quo because she continued to support Gabriel in all the ways that truly matter. She never really protects Adrien. She does not deserve to be Adrien's new mother. #BringEmilieBack!!!
All of that is assuming that Gabriel's wish saved Nathalie while sacrificing himself and Emilie. If so, then that is literally the most boring way to go about letting the wish happen. You could have just as easily had Gabriel lose and have Ladybug know a way to save Nathalie via Guardian magic. The end result would have been the same.
If Gabriel had chosen to give up on the wish entirely? Then Emilie not coming back would be a satisfying ending. I personally really like Gabriel being defeated and the heroes then bringing Emilie back. Very much a spite move for me, plus it's a nice way to lessen the sting of Gabriel's defeat. Adrien losing his father, but gaining his mother feels really satisfying to me, especially if Emilie gets to serve Gabriel divorce papers. Got your wish, old man. Now suffer for it.
No matter the case, saying that Emilie shouldn't be brought back because Adrien has moved on is bad logic as it implies that Emilie is only worth bringing back if Adrien say he wants her back, as if she's a beloved childhood toy that someone broke long ago. It also implies that Adrien wouldn't want her back just because he's accepted her loss. Those are two very different things. Imo, one of the show's failings is the fact that Adrien is denied the right to grieve as if that makes him a better person. A better show would show healthy grief vs unhealthy grief (Adrien vs Gabe). She's been gone less than a year when the story starts. Everyone processes grief different, but that's really fast to move on from the death of a parent.
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I've been an Invader Zim fan since 2011.
I was 15-16 at that time, and though I did thoroughly enjoy the show, I was not mature enough to really get it. Sure, it was funny, but I didn't pick up on the subtleties and style of humor beyond the surface level. I liked the wackiness and the characters, but I SURELY wasn't at a point of being able to deconstruct themes or analyze character motivations and narratives (like I very much enjoy doing now). I remember discovering an artist on DeviantArt who drew cute ZaGr stuff, so that was the pairing I liked too. I didn't think too deeply about much, and honestly, I don't think the majority of fans (if they were my age or younger, that is) did either. Everything was taken as dumb and silly for the most part, and that IS truthfully a major component of the show itself.
Getting back into Invader Zim within this past year though, I'm looking at it through a WILDLY different lens. I like Invader Zim for what it is and how it's intended to be perceived. I like that the show is meant to be dark, satirical, and tragic at the same time that it's silly, chaotic, and nonsensical. Almost everything that happens onscreen is written in to be funny above all else. (I've mentioned before that I've been watching Jhonen's Twitch streams for a while now, and I have a MUCH better understanding of his sense of humor bc of that. IZ makes way more sense if you can sorta see things from JV's perspective, lol.)
But at the same time, I also like Invader Zim for what it offers in terms of interpretation and what it can imply (intentionally or not). There is genuinely SO MUCH DEPTH to this dorky lil cartoon that a casual viewer wouldn't immediately pick up on. And a lot of that depth, I think, was not woven in purposely. The show itself was never meant to be taken so seriously. Nevertheless, I'm constantly fascinated by what IZ implies about good and evil, the nature of general society, and especially how it goes about demonstrating the devastating effects of social isolation and bullying. Meta for this series is always pretty damn *chef's kiss.* And what's even more interesting is how viewers manipulate canon to expand upon this world and these characters.
Given that I've come to understand Invader Zim better, I've also grown very fond of ZaDr. Now, while I wouldn't want to see this pairing happen in canon material, I love the potential it possesses in transformative contexts.
In reality, I get that these characters were intended to have a deep hatred for one another and a never-ending rivalry for the sake of comedy and not much else. It's an extraterrestrial perpetually throwing hands with a 12 year old because he's incompetent and his plans often fail. And that's funny. That's the point. But beyond that, canonically, these are two characters who are mirrors of each other; they're both treated like garbage by their respective peers, and they both crave acknowledgment, validation, and a sense of purpose. Throughout their story, they find they're only able to obtain these things from each other, so as a consequence of their similar personalities, they become utterly, unhingedly obsessed with each other (to a sometimes unhealthy degree). They are undeniably forever intertwined by design of how the show is set up.
And because of that, shipping of these characters was, frankly, inevitable in fandom spaces. I myself fell victim to their appeal too. (Sorry, Jhonen. 😅)
I'm not gonna go into any discourse surrounding this pairing because there's already PLENTY of that to go around online. Everyone has their own opinion on the subject, and that's fine. I respect that. Point is, even though I understand and appreciate what Zim and Dib are supposed to be in the context of the show, I also enjoy the idea of them as friends and romantic partners outside of and beyond the confines of canon.
And that's something that I think many fans who are biased toward ZaDr would also agree with! Actually, I'd say the majority of people who ship characters in ANY media would concur. We like the idea of seeing how specific relationships could develop over time and/or within different settings and circumstances. It's NOT always about wanting to see a relationship unfold on screen or in fan works strictly adhering to canon. It's about stretching canon, or in some cases, scratching canon entirely however you see fit! Who cares! It's fiction!
For me personally, I enjoy ZaDr because its attributes fall into so many trope categories that I've come to adore over the years (ones that I either wasn't aware of when I was younger, or that I didn't enjoy in the same intensity as I do now). Zim and Dib are, or could be, depending on context:
Codependent toxic soulmates
Human/non-human
Shared history
Classic enemies to lovers (or, as I often prefer it, enemies to friends to lovers)
Bicker couple
Battle couple, when put in the right setting for it
Violence as a love language
Smol and tol
The wild card paired with the rational one, the best part about this being that sometimes the more rational one is Dib, and sometimes it's Zim bc they're both a special flavor of insane
Make each other worse/stupider when together, tho oddly, they also kinda bring out the best in each other too
And, my personal favorites, the potential for hurt/comfort and angst with a happy ending, with the comfort and happiness aspects ultimately coming from each other
I like what these characters could be, to and for each other, apart from their roles in the show.
I would never want to explore a dynamic between Zim and Dib that goes beyond "frenemies" territory in canon (because that doesn't fit what the show is, and I do appreciate the integrity of Jhonen's vision). The subtle foundation for them is there, it's just that it can't really work unless a few key details are changed or manipulated, and, well...
I sure as hell like exploring every bit of that expanded potential in fan works because it's fun to imagine the various directions things could go if they were different!
This isn't me, like... trying to defend my (or anyone else's) enjoyment of this particular ship or trying to convince people to like it. Or the show for that matter! To each their own, truly. And I'm obv aware of the controversy ZaDr often incites and why. Everyone has valid reasons for liking OR not liking it, and I accept differing viewpoints on it. It's a touchy, nuanced subject to be sure. But this isn't about that.
I don't really know what this is, actually, aside from a very long very weird essay, lol. I just wanted to process why and how all of this works for me with my changed perspective from when I was first introduced to Invader Zim in my teens up until now.
It's strange, looking back. I didn't get ZaDr years ago. But I do now, and so much of it, at least from my perspective, has to do with taking the crumbs present in canon (that are undeniably there, whether you choose to acknowledge them or not, and whether they're intentional or not) and absolutely running with them to the ends of your own wild imagination.
#invader zim#invader zim meta#zadr#iz zadr#zim#dib membrane#my posts#this is... A LOT but i just needed to work thru it for my own sanity lol#said it before and i'll say it again: pls utilize the tag blocking function however you need to bc i KNOW this can be very Yikes for some#but at the same time this is my blog and i'm gonna do what i want :P
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I'm curious, in your totk rewrite, would the final fight with Ganondorf be the same, or would you do something entirely different?
somewhat, this is a bit of a different take on ganondorf though, it makes more sense in context of his changed ... or added rather, backstory;
you fight him once before, not a phantom like in canon but him physically, were hes still trying to cope with the horros he had lived through being half awake for such a long time so he isnt much for talking, at the end of it he has like a breakdown that essentially causes cataclysm 2.0 (that might even open up new caves that were previously just cracks in walls too) and which spawns the miasma/memory trees that contain his memories, all of which you need to collect to unlock the ending-
structurally the final fight is similar:
theres a horde of enemies you fight all together and the sages get taken away once you reach ganondorf; when you find him hes all calm and collected but does not allow zelda to talk to him despite her understanding how it had come to all of this and her wishing for a different solution; the fight begins but over time as he loses HP he start to act differently, less calculating and like he is in control and more and more aggresively, and more jumpy like he is afraid of something
phase two he gets too cornered and activates his enigma stone + the sages rejoin you, he is visibly just trying to put an end to you using everything he has to offer, phase two of phase two, he loses it and changes into a beast form (a miasma version of the best forms we know basically, i made a sketch of it once but it was only a rly early concept; i need to put more boar features on that
(unsure whether i want this to be his engima stone active version or the actual beast one)
after he changes into beast form he charges at link and zelda and essentially burrows through the earth with them, breaking through the surface in the hyrule plains where the dark beast ganon fight happened in botw, here you fight him in the open, any weathher and time of day can happen here so its a much more diverese vibe each time; he is very fast in this form, if you are familiar with bloodborne im thinking of something akin to the first phase of ludwigs fight but a little more coordinated
this fight ends with zelda telling you to shoot at her so she uses her shielding powers (sth she can also do in the game itself) to reflect your arrow in a certain angle (reference to how ww zelda shoots an arrow you need to deflect in order to defeat gan but in reverse), it hits the ornament keeping the enigma stone in place from the side and it flings off
the battle seemingly ends with beast ganon falling to the ground, zelda tries to run and take it away but gan is still awake and sees in her how sonia sealed him way back, so in a last ditch effort to avoid the fate he had just escaped (despite zelda not wanting to do any of that) lunges for the stone and swallows it
he transforms into a dragon snatching up the both of you and flying high into the sky, zelda can wriggle free but falls and while she could land safely with her paraglider gan is flying off with link so she makes a last moment decision to take in her enigma stone as well, she transforms, rams into gan to free link and a somwhat similar fight as in canon happens, though i would like zelda to be more openly agressive towards dragon-gan
sicne in this version gan doesnt have his stone on the forehead somehow but inside like you would expect you need to fly into his mouth to end the fight, assuming you have found the lab that held the moonbloom (perhaps kogas so tie him nicely into it all) needed for the reverse dragon medicine (bc i wanted to involve links passion for cooking somewhat i thought it would be cool if he takes the chrage on that to make that special dish), you now use it, causing gan to spit out his stone and reversing (still unsure whether he survives this or not, but i thought of the scene from spirited away when chihiro gives haku the lil herb thingy to make him spit out whats killing him when i was coming up with this) zelda catches you again and you use the second charge on her to reverse her as well, boom you got your epic falling scene, the sages also now have made their way up through the tunnel, perhaps they catch gan too
this is a super rough current concept for it, it might all change still so dont take this as the final version, still working on it all after all
#ganondoodles answers#zelda#totk#ganondoodles rewrites totk#again this is quickly and sloppily written#but maybe theres some good on this#though i might all change still if i can think of sth better
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so are wild boar still considered “extinct” locally by the humans? given that wild boar in england are currently considered extinct, even though there are pockets of population
(context: i was looking up animals that england has driven to extinction with my partner last night because we were both feeling Some Kind Of Way about species conservation, and how england is basically the worst monster historically in terms of driving entire species to extinction, and continues to be hugely negligible. then i remembered boars in better bones i was like “aren’t there boars?” and then saw that they were also considered extinct, which surprised me)
Yeah England is a fucking monster in terms of bad conservation, and its colonial influence in how OTHER places view conservation can't be understated. But anyway I'll save that for another time
(But like it fucks me up that you guys only have one protected river in the whole UK and it's mostly in Wales. What the fuck. It's been 30 years and they're just now thinking about adding another. Brits in the audience who can i kill for you? If we throw someone in the thames maybe they'll dissolve)
Here's the thing I have in mind; England is so fucked that people don't even know how fucked it is. Do you know how important hogs are to a mixed-oak woodland? What types of moors need burning, grazing, or being left alone? That the entire island of Great Britan is supposed to have a thriving freshwater pearl mussel population? That England isn't supposed to have pine forests?
There is so so so much here to cover and talk about, AND I'm telling this story from the perspective of cats! They have to have encountered the things to know about them, even if it was culturally!
And what that means is that I am willing to bend a couple of things SO that I can include them as part of the story! Things that SHOULD be here, that should be or ARE being reintroduced, especially when they're lesser known.
(In fact I think your boar thing is a perfect example. You're telling me the story I want to hear-- that you heard something offhand, went "woah arent those in this work I'm a fan of?" And then you learned more. Goal accomplished!)
In my head I file boars and mussels under the "Eagle Exception." Something that, with a bit of alt history, could be seen in this environment.
It's based off the canon eagles (which ironically I'm massively downplaying in my rework of the BB!Tribe). The golden eagle has been extinct in England for a very long time, but it's right there in canon, so logically there could be similar animals or reintroduction projects.
List so far;
(Also BB!Great Britan is called Albion to mark that it's a little different.)
Freshwater Pearl Mussels (extinct in White Hart, populated in Sanctuary Lake)
Boars (rare in White Hart, populated in Sanctuary Lake. Replacing the majority of deadly badger and fox encounters because badgers arent bears and foxes arent coyotes, Erin :/)
Golden Eagle (exclusive to Tribe mountain)
Beavers (Being actively reintroduced to parts of Albion in the 2010s)
Wolves (extinct)
Lynxes (suspected extinct; there may be some around specifically because I want to make an example of how non-domestic cats in this universe are non-sapient.)
Salmon (uncommon in White Hart, populated in Sanctuary Lake)
Atlantic Sturgeon (exclusive to Sanctuary Lake, rare even there)
Medicinal Leech (dying population in White Hart since Chelford expansion, extinct in Sanctuary Lake)
Additionally I'm keeping my eye on the European Buffalo (wiseant) reintroduction, but that's not in my modeled region and I don't want to jump the gun on it. Last I checked the project JUST managed to get its bull this year after a long 2020-induced delay
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random anon throwing in my two cents (all that’s in my wallet actually) but while i don’t mind in the context of Hanging Rose if wilbur becomes willum since tommy is already tomys, in general i am very leery of name changes. because it’s you, I’d probably still give anything you read a chance since you’re epic, but i usually don’t even touch a fic when a name gets changed. for some very fanon-relevant characters (which sbi definitely are. I’ve read so many versions of who they are /pos), names are often one of the few consistent, binding things, so I feel like if you take that away it’s suddenly just some other guy. a different character. “what’s in a name” and all that. to me, c!wilbur is very different from somebody with all the same characteristics and looks but named walter or smth (there’s a walter white joke to be had in here somewhere. pretend I made it and that it rlly landed good and normal). ive seen similar things occur in different fandoms where the most oc’ified characters get their name changed constantly (hadrian black…….) and it just fails to rlly feel like the same character, superficial though a name may first seem. im attached to the characters, and a lot of a character is defined by name in fics. but when it comes down to it obviously just do what you want and live your best writing life in whatever way is most comfortable for you!
this is a very good point and one I pretty much agree with. in the past I've very much been against the oc-ification of characters in fandom spaces solely because like what you said, I'm attached to the character and it fails to feel the same. this is just... an unusual situation I'm struggling to find the right way to deal with. like, yeah, I think I've done a lot more character work on c!wilbur than cc!wilbur ever did. but I am attached to the character from canon itself.
I do want to emphasize for all that I've been saying the character is mine now, I have always been very focused on writing c!wilbur in a way that feels in line with the character and that's not going to change if I do end up finishing rose. the only reason I've considered using willum as a name is because in the fic itself, rose!wilbur's name is already willum. like, that's his full name and wilbur is a nickname. if I switched the text to call him willum solely, nothing about him as a character would change. I would still be writing c!wilbur. I wouldn't be trying to change him to turn him into my oc. the only purpose the name change would serve would be to help readers have an easier time feeling the separation of c!wilbur and cc!wilbur
also, the main reason I feel like this could work is because an anon helpfully pointed out earlier that, like, 75% of glass divine never called him wilbur. it only called him the pythia. and the readers seemed to have no issue with that so I feel like switching to willum would be more akin to that rather than me trying to oc-ify c!wilbur
I hope that makes sense!
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How do you think Sasuke would've been like if he didn't go through what he did? Do you think his personality would still be similar to how it is now, or way different? I think some things will definitely remain the same, like his personality being the opposite contrast to Naruto's, and being an introvert. But I'd love to hear your thoughts! Thinking about how Naruto would be like is also pretty interesting, but not as much as Sasuke since he's way more traumatized and changed dramatically since he was a kid. There were some fillers that showed that he chased cats and took those cat missions really seriously, which is really cute and makes him seem kinda goofy like Naruto, but they're still fillers so idk how accurate that is. Still, he was very friendly and sweet as a child even in canon. He's such an interesting and complex character!
Hi~
That’s hard to predict because living life without going through what he has in the story is… quite the contrast. He'd still be goal-driven. I wonder if Fugaku would acknowledge Sasuke similarly without Itachi becoming distant. Would Itachi spend more time with Sasuke and allow them to train together had he not been burdened the way he was? There are so many variables to take into account.
And let’s be honest… wouldn’t we want to know how Kishimoto would answer that? Considering people’s belief about the Uchiha’s “evil” destiny-tainted with hatred and all that- being genetic? Oh, there’s so much to say about that alone. Try making that point without Konoha’s elite members ordering his entire family to be murdered by the person he loves and trusts most for the sake of everyone else’s safety. Good luck with that.
One thing Kishimoto has said about writing Sasuke always stuck with me though, which was:
He’s basically saying that, in order to write Sasuke, he needs to make sure his character image won’t be messed up by putting him in situations where he wouldn’t be in the first place.
There’s a lot of debate among writers when it comes to character/plot driven stories, but Sasuke’s journey is very much character-driven in the sense that plot is/should be changed in order to allow Sasuke to drink the tea that he likes. It doesn’t make sense otherwise. Often, fillers, novels and other material that are technically official, but not made by Kishimoto, completely miss the mark and force him to drink the juice when he wouldn’t ever do that in the first place.
And so, screw up his character entirely.
(Not Sasuke alone though.)
If Sasuke didn’t go through these horrible things, a lot will be different, but I’m pretty sure his personality would stay similar when it comes to drinking the tea he likes. He’d still avoid the juice despite different circumstances. He wouldn't ever drink it. And how that would be like precisely… well, your guess is as good as mine, really.
Sasuke can be goofy and playful though. Way more than people seem to think? He’s just selective when it comes to who he feels comfortable enough to show it to. As he should. Again, filler (etc-) also often don't take that into account. A lot of it is either completely exaggerated or they make him into this cold-hearted character without any sub- and/or context that does it justice.
I don’t think Naruto and Sasuke’s trauma’s can, and/or should be, ever measured against each other though. The story made it a point that it’s hard to understand one or the other for good reason. I also don’t think Naruto has changed much as a character? Although he gained better understanding about a lot of things and therefore took different approaches, he’s also repressing a lot of what he’s feeling in order to people please in a way that gains him the acceptance he craved for. Underneath all of that, there’s still that part of him that he’s denying in order to belong in the environment that denied him.
And yeah, how do we feel about that? ;-;
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can i be honest for a second? i think it's weird how quickly and avidly a lot of people in this fandom turn down the idea that will is gnc, even though he... literally is? lol.
will is described in canon as being sweet, sensitive, gentle, highly empathetic, emotional, soft-spoken, and artistic. these traits are not inherently gendered, but instead traditionally stereotyped to be "feminine," especially within the era that this show is set. they're likely the main reason why everyone assumes he's gay to begin with.
in the st pitch he's described as wearing colorful clothes, and in the show joyce tells us that other kids are mean, laugh at him, and make fun of him for them, right before she calls him sensitive and says that lonnie used to call him queer, thus linking this all together and driving the point home to hopper.
we also know that people of all age groups—his peers, teenagers, and even adults—call him all sorts of gay slurs, some of which are aimed at and describing feminine, androgynous, or cross-dressing homosexual men—aka, "fairy."
everyone in hawkins wasn't calling will gay and making his life difficult because he did anything with other boys. they did this because he never fit the societal expectation for how a boy "should" act—especially not at the height of the aids crisis in reagan's midwestern america, might i remind you—which, to them, meant he had to be gay.
it's him not conforming to the "acceptable" or expected gender presentation for boys that damns him. will is visibly gay by their standards. will is gender nonconforming in the context within which he exists, and even now because the aforementioned traits are still stereotyped as being "feminine" and considered aspects of male gender nonconformity. we know better now than to assume a man is gay because he's nice and soft-spoken, but we cannot erase the context of the show, the canon material it presents, or the real homophobia of that era that still exists today.
it's also a big part of will's character, because it further proves that he doesn't have a chance of conforming even if he would ever want to, because he would have to change everything about himself in order to do so. it wouldn't be as simple as changing his clothes or picking up a new hobby. he'd have to harden himself, to become tougher, to not feel as much as he does. and that's just not will. will is sweet, gentle, and sensitive—no matter what consequences it all brings. he can't change and he hasn't ever expressed any interest in doing so. literally not even life-altering trauma was able to take that from him. it's just who will is.
if you erase that HUGE part of his character, literally the second thing we're taught about him in the first fifteen minutes of 1x01, then you're erasing a big part of his lore, characterization, motives, and the representation he provides to those with similar experiences.
like... this isn't offensive characterization / writing. we've seen will on our screen for years now—we know he's not a one-dimensional stereotype, and that he's obviously more than the rumors that circulate about him. accepting what the duffers put forth doesn't diminish anything about him, and this... aversion people have to accepting that makes other gay people who have shared a similar experience as will feel othered in a community where they're supposed to feel welcome in.
this is something that happens to millions of people around the globe. this is an important story and an important character that have both been treated with extreme care by the writers and the actor that plays him. why would you want to erase any of that? what issue do you have with gay people like will? because it says a lot more about you than it does him or the duffers.
#will byers#byler#mine#will#i'm tired of acting like canon isn't real lol#these gay people exist. they are not 'bad representation' or members of the community you should shun. will IS your gnc king.
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A Speculative Analysis About Irkens No One Asked For: Part I
Dem green fellas. Them lil guys, they’re an interesting pack of critters, aren’t they?
I used to really fixate on them back in middle and high school, stronger than everyone else seemed to be on the spazz in the dog costume. Jhonen Vasquez’s worldbuilding has always towed a very fine line between nonsensically ridiculous and surprisingly logistical, and this balance is typified in everything we know, and can infer, about these bug-eyed imperialists at the center of everything Invader Zim. So, let’s infer, and take a crack at it since no one’s stopping us anyway- More specifically, some thoughts and ponderings I had about how they “tick” as a fully realized society, not just a sci-fi monster..
A Homeworld Obscured
Now, to really understand the history and “deal” of any civilization, or any animal, usually you would turn to their environment first to give you some handy clues and context.
Small problem, though: We actually don’t get much in the way of direct, explicit showing or explanations about Irk itself when it comes to the show. This makes some sense, given that the whole of what they do worth showing (and the most notable members of their kind) exists almost entirely off-world. So instead, we mostly find out more about Irk from what Invader Zim does tell us about its natives. As far as confirmed canon goes, we know that Irk’s atmosphere appears red, its surface is entirely and densely urbanized, and it’s long been depicted in starmaps with a set of Saturn-like rings.
This last fact is probably the most interesting, because planetary rings are usually something we, in our own little solar system, would only associate with massive, gaseous worlds, not terrestrial ones. What These rings are made of is really anyone’s guess- could be ancient debris from natural satellites, Water-ice particles, maybe even some form of artificial defense network put into orbit by the Irkens themselves. If they aren’t artificially created, this would suggest that Irk has quite a strong gravitational field- greater than that of any of our neighborhood’s rocky planets. This is the common theory I personally like to subscribe to, because it would also go hand and hand with explaining why the average height of the irken race is so much shorter compared to that of an adult human. It fits neatly into the “why” question for the sort of athletic skill and agility we’ve seen invaders able to demonstrate on Earth, too, for otherwise being of meek physical prowess. It even adds some credible context for why the very achievement of growing to a more substaintial height is both uncommon and associated with extreme survival fitness to them.
A Fun fact that’s about to be relevant: “Rayleigh scattering” is the term given to when light wavelengths become shifted and scattered through an atmosphere medium. Long story short, it’s the reason our sky has color to it during the day. Stay with me on this.
I’ve also seen some people take a go at the red-looking surface, guessing a different gas makeup than the elements on earth responsible for our blue skies. I’m gonna go against the grain here, and actually contest that. I think that Irk’s atmosphere is coincidentally extremely similar to Earth’s. We know well enough that they both have a similar composition of gases breathable to both societies, given that Zim, Skoodge, and Tak all seemed pretty comfortable without some form of assistance on the same dirtball as humanity. Instead, I propose that Irk’s magenta skies are actually the symptom of heavy pollution. Sunsets and sunrises in the real world are known to make the sky appear more reddish-orange, even pink, as is. Usually, Rayleigh scattering has the light From the sun appear bluish in full midday, but during low sun, the rays are coming at an angle making them have to travel farther before reaching us, so you have already stretched light waves getting the same treatment from the air and, well, a higher frequency blue turns down to the lower end of the spectrum, red and yellows.
And wouldn’t you know, air pollution can actually do the same thing. THIS is why there's a scary ass orange haze known to accompany the presence of massive forest fires and volcanic eruptions. Earth’s most polluted cities even experience longer and redder sunsets for the same reason.
Left: Image of a lilac sky over a Chinese city experiencing heavy smog levels
Right: Intense red haze spotted over towns in Indonesia in the wake of rampant rainforest fires
On Earth, Zim stared directly into the midday sun without hesitation, nor concern that it would literally blind him. I think the planet hue and this is plenty enough to guess the likely case that Irk’s surface probably doesn’t get a lot of direct sun on an average day as is, and the sheer amount of unbroken cityscape that covers the homeworld would be the more obvious suspect than just having a more distant star from them. If they overcrowded to the point of their expansion, why build their civilization deeper into the ground, instead of up? Maybe there's actually a good reason or two they don’t raise their young topside.
A Psychology Molded for Domination
As well, I want to chirp about real world space again for a second. So, anyone up to the buzz in geek circles and aware of the math on the matter probably got the memo: humanity is almost matter-of-fact certainly not alone in this sandbox of a universe (or at the very least, we won’t always be alone). Like, about as certainly as we were about Black holes’ existence before we up and observed the real thing. And while it’s probably not going to happen in any of our lifetimes, sci-fi and media generally have been trying to take a crack for years at what the theoretical first contact with an alien civilization is going to look like.
And I’m gonna go ahead and say it,
As “cliche” and Hollywood as the conquering little green/grey dudes trope might have become… it’s actually not a wild take after all. The little and green thing, that’s creative liberty, but the part about them being hostile and something we may not actually even WANT to be aware of our existence? That’s an idea that even the smarty pants experts have been fearing the realistic odds of, even including the late Stephen Hawking .
The Evolution of intelligent life is a hard thing to really pin down and predict, given that we literally only have the one example to study. Under the right conditions, what reason would another advanced species NOT have to be equally as expanding, as exploitative of its resources, self-destructively short-sighted, and as supremacist as humans have already demonstrated themselves to be capable of? There is a lot of very interesting literature that suggests BOTH empathy/altruism and or aggression/tribalism to be (at least in the short term) very rewarding characteristics for an intelligent social species to develop.
And that’s the thing about the behavior of the Irken Armada I think has always been fascinating. Their drive to be the biggest definitionally invasive species across the cosmos is framed exactly as irrational, bumbling, and pointless as it deserves to be; however, is it not just the extended conclusion of every empire that has existed here on Earth, if only it had survived long enough to achieve the technology of Irk? And yet, it’s reminiscent, like the rest of their design, to the far from sapient, yet very real world creatures they appear to be most inspired by: hive and colony building arthropods. Whether the next point I'm about to touch on should be seen as a rejection of that resemblance, or further elaboration of it is anyone's to answer.
Transhumanism, or.. Transirkenism, in this case?
Like the specifics of what Irk really looks like and how it realistically works, a bunch about the aliens’ physical biology is left to scattered tidbits to ponder and piece together into a bigger picture. A few of those tidbits are as follows, drip-fed to us over the course of aired and scripted but never released episodes:
+ From the mouth of Vasquez himself, it has been confirmed that Irkens lack any form of reproductive organs. Instead, they rely on industrialized facilities to grow and produce them in a factory sense.
+ Yet curiously, they still demonstrate something akin to sexual dimorphism, or at least the cultural existence of masculine/feminine genders, where females are aesthetically set apart by the presence of curled antennae, eyelashes, and higher voices.
+ Irken lifespans are able to stretch far past that of an average human’s (Zim himself is cited to be around 2 centuries old in earth years).
+ Invader class soldiers have been implanted with surgical upgrades to their eyes.
+ Every Irken is fitted with a PAK that serves a wide array of utility and life-sustaining functions for its owner. These units are physically and neurologically connected into an Irken’s spine from “birth” and contain a cybernetic backup of an individual’s personality, assigned occupational programming, and memories.
That’s not close to a complete list by any means, but it’s got the gist of what I want to dwell on most, starting with the last bit; because the PAK isn’t done true justice in one statement. It is not an extra addition the way a prosthetic enhancement is, and it is not a tool the way armor and weapons are. It is literally analogous to a vital organ to these aliens, and they are shown to die within 10 minutes of being forcefully detached from their own.
The degree to which Irken bodies and minds rely on this technology, and how seamlessly they are integrated into it, ALONG with their completely artificial life cycle all directly points to the fact that their civilization has advanced into a cyborg-like stage of evolution. It may even be on track to reach a post-organical peak in due time, phasing out more and more of their “vestigial” and feeble meatsuits until they’ve become a true drone army. And that actually begs some huge questions now that we realize we will never know how much of the Irken anatomy was ever originally a natural feature. An Irken’s own brain practically comes secondary to the superior efficiency of the supercomputer on their back, capable of literally holding their own essence and being in the form of code. A code that can preserve the “self” even in the event of meatbody failure, being uploaded post-mortem into the Control Brains’ collective data and repurposed for a future generation of workers. It absolutely would stand to reason that the species has continued this biological self-tampering to other heights- extending their lifespans, incorporating untold amount of mechanical upgrades into their bodies, and maybe even genetically engineering their smeets to be so compatible with this technology.
The control brains themselves are a mesmerizing reflection of this change over time- the result of an evident shift long ago from technology serving them, to them serving the directives of computers. When you really pay attention to the control brains’ role in the series, it comes clear to you who (or what) is really in charge of their society. The Tallest still maintain their symbolic/cultural importance to the Irkens, but outside of their part in spearheading the active intergalactic invasion, they ultimately are figureheads when it comes to actually running the homeworld and ruling the lives of Irk’s inhabitants. If I had to bet money, I would say the Brains may even have the ability to choose and predetermine the next Tallest when a replacement is needed. But what does that make the Tallest? A meaningless title and transformation, chosen arbitrarily by the AI overlords? Well, I don’t think so, actually… but maybe that, and more on the “meaty” morphology of their race is all a tangent fit for another day and post ;)
#invader zim#irkens#long post#sci fi#iz fandom#scarlet talks about things#oh boy here i go hyperfixating again
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A Final Poison Kiss Delivered Gently (ao3)
Nesta Archeron is a renowned and ruthless fae warrior, but she gets far more than she bargained for when, in the midst of battle, she finds herself up against the most fearsome General. Retelling of the Achilles/Penthesilea myth.
(For @nessianweek day 6! Read with the context of Autumn and Night being at war. Feyre has all her canon gifts but she’s not with Rhys yet. Idk suspend disbelief and don’t look too closely at the details. Title from the Mayday Parade song Without the Bitter the Sweet isn’t as Sweet)
Battle dawned, but Nesta Archeron was no stranger to its song, its call.
It thrummed through her as she donned each and every piece of her armour, the world outside dimming to nothing but a dull roar, chaos quieting as she shut it all out, took a breath, and brushed a finger along the hilt of her sword. She felt the pommel in the palm of her hand, cool and solid against her skin. She was a Valkyrie— a warrior born and bread, and battle flowed through her blood, eager, thirsty for every drop she would spill today.
Across the tent her sister looked back at her.
Feyre had donned similar armour - all smooth, hardened leather - but she was not a Valkyrie. Feyre was different, a soldier all the same, but… different. There was something else lurking beneath her youngest sister’s skin, something darker, like the night itself had marked her as one of its own, and though they had both been born under an Autumn Court sun, neither of them had stayed there. Only Elain had remained behind, but Nesta suspected that had more to do with a particular auburn-haired prince than anything else.
Cauldron blessed, they called them— the three sisters born to their parents in quick succession, when the birth of even one child was a rarity. Chosen, they whispered, when Nesta found herself skilled enough with a blade to earn a place with the Valkyries, when Feyre lifted her hands and found the ability to master the elements sitting waiting in her palm, and when Elain’s eyes turned vacant, glassy with foresight. The Mother’s favoured, they said, in voices weighed heavy with awe and terror in equal measure.
Nesta hadn’t ever cared much for any of it.
“You ready?” Feyre asked now, handing Nesta a small dagger to sheath at her hip.
“Always,” Nesta shrugged. “Are you?”
Feyre nodded, humming a little as she began working her hair into a braid that she would then wrap up in a tight bun. They were used to this— the war had been going so long that each step before battle had become a ritual, something almost ceremonial. Nesta didn’t know what they were fighting for anymore, or why the war had begun in the first place. All she knew that it was a conflict older than her, begun before she was born, against the fae from the most northern stretches of Prythian, as violent and as volatile as any other.
“They say there are some handsome ones out there today,” Feyre commented lightly. “That should make things interesting.”
Nesta scoffed. “Would you spare an enemy because of his pretty eyes?”
Feyre laughed, the sound ricocheting through the tent.
“Perhaps,” her sister said idly, holding out a hand to study her fingers. Feyre would use the powers the Cauldron had blessed her with to fight her way across the battlefield today, to wound and maim every soldier in her path, pretty eyed or not. She could heal with those powers, stitch skin as easily as she could split it, but today…
Today she would not be healing on that battlefield.
Today she would be killing.
Yet her hands remained steady as she readied for battle, for the blood that she was about to spill. It was how they had been raised, and even when the drums began to pound outside the tent, still Feyre was calm. The earth beneath their feet seemed to shake as conflict neared, and the song in Nesta’s blood built and built and built, reaching a crescendo as she tucked one more blade into a sheath at her thigh. It pressed against her leather armour, the weight a solid comfort. She’d done this so many times— it was second-nature now, to scent that tantalising mix of anticipation and fear and bloodlust on the wind and feel nothing but a sense of purpose, of stone-cold determination.
And as the drums grew louder, Nesta took a deep breath and looked at her sister through the dim of her tent.
“Come,” she said after a moment, lifting her head high and offering Feyre a wolfish kind of smile. “Let’s go and find some pretty-eyed enemies to slaughter.”
***
It was standing atop the crest of a gently sloping hill that Nesta Archeron first caught sight of him.
She surveyed the battlefield below, the fighting already underway, and she didn’t know what she was searching for until she found him— until she saw the remains around him of all those who had taken him on and fallen. Spears and swords lay scattered, discarded, in an almost perfect circle, broken bodies like flotsam. He was an Illyrian warrior, tall and dark and imposing, with wings that seemed to block out the sun when they spread, and seven gleaming red siphons that seemed to call to her, like a beacon across the killing field. His dark armour shone, the leather glistening with blood that almost certainly wasn’t his own, and even from across the battlefield, Nesta saw the glint of his sword, the gleam as the sun reflected off the blade as he raised it before bringing it down again. Like a scythe through wheat he cut through his attackers, moving as though he had yet to meet a real challenge, and at the sight Nesta’s heart pounded once, twice, a determined beat behind her ribs.
He was the one she wanted.
Whether it was the Mother or the Cauldron or some unknown and unnamed god of war that drew her to him, Nesta didn’t care. She watched him swing his sword and knew, simply, that he was hers— that his blood was hers to draw, to spill. His life hers to claim.
“That one,” she said to Feyre, nodding to where the warrior cut down three men with a single stroke. “I want that one.”
Feyre cast her eyes over the field below, smirking even as her own eyes snagged on another warrior— one in armour so dark it seemed to swallow the light itself. She shrugged, her fingers tracing the hilt of her dagger as she tilted her head, eyes still fixed on that soldier in obsidian armour, wielding darkness like a blade. “But you can’t see if he has pretty eyes from all the way up here.”
Nesta huffed a small laugh, noting the way her warrior moved, so fluid it was like water. She studied it— studied him. He moved like battle was a dance, like he felt the song of it in his bones the way she did, and she had never seen a more worthy opponent in her life. Her fingers twitched towards her blade, something in her chest pulling her forwards, begging her to find out how long he’d last against her.
“I don’t need to,” she shrugged. “He’s mine.”
Feyre hummed lightly. “I bet he has pretty eyes,” she said idly, nodding to the soldier crafted from the night itself.
Nesta rolled her eyes, glancing briefly skyward. A soft breeze caressed her cheeks, and as she surveyed the field below, she found her attention snapping once more to that mighty warrior, felling all in his path with a delighted kind of ease. She didn’t look back to Feyre, but her sister cleared her throat and turned, looking at Nesta’s mark with a renewed vigour.
“I heard some men talking in the camp this morning,” she began mildly. “They mentioned the enemy general— an Illyrian so fierce he makes even his own men tremble.They said he wears seven ruby siphons.”
Nesta smiled as she counted those bright red stones once more. All seven of them.
“So he’s the general?” she asked, watching him dance easily out of reach of another’s blade before lunging for the hilt and taking it in his own hands, turning it on its wielder and thrusting it through their gut. And he hadn’t even started to slow yet, barely seemed to be breaking a sweat.
Feyre raised an eyebrow. “Looks like it.”
Nesta’s lips split into a cruel smile. “Even better.”
***
Smoothly she descended into the chaos of battle, slipping into the fray as easily as breathing. All around her swords clashed, lives were ended and blood watered the earth, and through it all Nesta kept her gaze fixed on that gleaming sword, on the warrior who lifted it. As though the world itself held its breath, a path seemed to open between him and her, leaving the way clear as she edged towards him. No other attacked her, no other dared— as though the entire army recognised her not as their downfall, but his and his alone.
And with each step that brought her closer, she felt something tightening in the air between them, like lightning about to strike. It was magnetised, electric, and though she kept herself out of his line of vision, she wondered if he could sense her yet— if he could feel that pull towards her the way she felt a current dragging her towards him. If he did, he made no sign of it. He continued to cut down all those around him, and silently Nesta approached until she was standing a foot behind him, close enough that if she extended her arm…
If she was quick…
Her sword might just nick his neck, might slip through that gap where his helmet met his armour, severing enough vital arteries that this would be over before it really began.
It was tempting, but—
Not yet.
He was the finest warrior she had ever seen, and she intended to relish every moment of this fight.
Instead, she waited. Waited until the final soldier between them fell, a dagger through his throat, and only then did she unsheathe her own blade, hearing the soft whistle of steel as she pulled it free.
The warrior turned.
“Well,” he crooned, finding the space around him suddenly devoid of soldiers waiting for a chance to end his life. Indeed, all others seemed to have fled the immediate area, leaving the Valkyrie and the General more than enough space to dance around one another, circling like predators who had happened across their prey. He flashed her a smile. “I wasn’t expecting such a pretty opponent,” he drawled, wiping the blood from his blade by dragging the flat edge along his thigh.
With a mild kind of bemusement, Nesta blinked. Men. Always so cocksure, so certain that a woman couldn’t possibly pose any kind of real threat.
She rotated her wrist, her sword finding aim right above his heart, and that steady beat in her veins suddenly began to quicken, anticipation building as she searched in vain for any discernible detail beneath the helmet that concealed most of his face.
“Are you afraid it will be a distraction?” she asked, in a voice so smoothly saccharine it made a play of innocence.
He barked a laugh, and…
Gods, the sound skittered across her skin, like she could feel it in her very centre. She glimpsed dark eyes beneath his helmet, nothing more than a sharp glint as he rounded her, prowling like a wolf about to pounce. She turned in place, keeping her face to him and watching as his thumb stroked the hilt of his sword. His laugh died away, and Nesta could have sworn the entire battlefield had gone quiet, the chaos around them muted. It hadn’t— she knew it hadn’t. She could still hear the ring and clash of armour and blades, screams and shouts, but it had gone distant, quiet. Like the world— or her world, at least - was holding its breath.
“Never,” he answered after a minute, daring to smirk as he dragged his eyes across her. “Though it will be a shame to kill you,” he said, his voice as smooth as honey. “I would have liked to find out just how… distracting you can be.”
A laugh burst from her throat, and Nesta let her other hand drop to a second dagger at her side. He marked it— mirrored her.
Clever bat, she thought as she watched him balance lithely on the balls of his feet. Those wings looked cumbersome, like they ought to be a hindrance, but she’d learned enough from those few minutes she’d spent studying him to know that he was lethally smooth, fast, and those wings wouldn’t hold him back at all, but give him the extra momentum he needed to strike quick, to plunge his blade into her chest. She eyed the membrane now, and his smile turned menacing.
His helmet hid all but his mouth— all she could see was that infuriating smile, that taunting grin that had her pulse hammering.
“Come on then princess,” he murmured, his voice dipping lower, almost husky. “Show me what you’ve got.”
He flipped his sword in hand, the blade honed to a lethal, lethal point. It’s edge gleamed, wickedly sharp, and even if Nesta knew nothing else about him, she knew just from the way he held that sword that he was no stranger to ending life— no stranger to a battlefield.
But then, neither was she.
She tightened her own grip on her shortsword, still pointed at his chest. It was thinner than the great Illyrian blade he wielded, but no less sharp, and lighter too. It was far easier to swing, much more nimble, and Nesta lunged forwards, tilting up and aiming for his godsdamned neck.
He twisted, ducked, and the edge of her sword scraped only the leather armour that covered his shoulder, spearing straight through the gap between his wings and leaving only the barest trace of a scratch behind.
He tsked.
And yet when he looked at her, he did not seem hell-bent on vengeance. Instead he cast an eye appreciatively over her form-fitting armour, over the lack of helmet that left her face exposed. His eyes dropped to her lips, lingered, and as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, Nesta let out a huff so forceful it strained her chest. She was here to kill him, and yet he looked at her like he’d much rather find out what else she could do with her hands besides swing a sword. He smirked, and if Nesta wondered briefly what else he could do with that mouth besides rile her, then she quickly buried the thought, gripping her weapon tighter as if to remind herself of her purpose.
But— she raised her blade, and when it clashed with his, she could have sworn sparks flew as steel met steel.
His eyes met hers beneath his helmet, and something like adrenaline was racing through her, making her heart beat harder than it ever had before in battle. This was something else, something new, something that threatened to steal her breath, and as he slid his blade along hers, the gentle hiss of it made her want to shudder. He stepped closer, so close that the only thing between his chest and hers was their crossed blades.
Still, he smirked.
His eyes flicked down, and she caught sight of thick eyelashes framing eyes that weren’t dark at all, rather a shade of hazel that shone as the sun came out from behind the clouds. From this close, she could smell the cinnamon and leather scent of him, warm and soft and entirely at odds with the bloodlust that swam in his face as he pinned her with his stare.
He pushed harder with his blade, trying to force hers to bend, to break, but Nesta held firm, even though the bones in her arm and hands cringed at the effort it took to hold steady against this mountain of a man.
She gritted her teeth, and the warrior smiled.
“Well princess,” he murmured, “You’re a far worthier opponent than I thought.”
He pushed again, but Nesta held steady. Her lip curled. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
He huffed. “Oh, I’m not disappointed at all, sweetheart.”
His eyes turned molten, his tone a languid caress, and… gods, was he flirting with her?
Nesta snarled.
He thought her nothing but a weak and fickle female— one who would lose all sense of self and purpose because a man whispered pretty words in her ear. But if he thought that would get her to drop her guard and let him land a killing blow, then he was sorely mistaken.
He hummed, the sound low in his throat. “Where would be the fun in that?”
“Fun,” Nesta repeated flatly.
The warrior grinned. “You put down that blade and I have half a mind to show you exactly the kind of fun we could have.”
She barked a laugh. “And I suppose you’d like me to bare my throat for your blade too?”
“I’d certainly like you to bare your throat sweetheart, but not necessarily for a blade.”
Nesta blinked. “You’re insufferable.”
And then… he winked at her. “Shame that we find ourselves on different sides of this battle, isn’t it?”
Nesta sighed, pushing harder against his blade, so hard she thought her wrist might break. But his knuckles were white with how tightly he was having to hold her back, and she was tired of this charade, this game. “If you think I’m going to drop at your feet and give you the opening you need—”
“I wouldn’t dare to hope, princess.”
Nesta snarled again and took one swift step back, the edge of his blade singing, reverberating as hers slid along it, drawing away. Smoothly she turned on her heel, spinning out of his range before he could so much as blink. But his eyes followed her, intent shining dark on the parts of his face she could see— the small kick of his lips, the glint in his eyes. Before she could make her move he lunged, his blade once more aimed at her— but at her side this time, Nesta noticed, not at her heart.
For a heartbeat she wondered why he wasn’t levelling a killing blow whilst he had the chance— but it didn’t matter, not when she only narrowly deflected that blow, killing one or not. She knocked his sword aside with her own, the clang of metal echoing through her bones, and he laughed— like the fight was a delight to him, he laughed, and it didn’t matter that he’d just missed or failed to kill her. He was enjoying this, she realised, and she’d never met another who relished a fight as much as she did, who enjoyed the feeling of power that came with holding a sword in hand. He tilted his head, and when he raised his arm to aim his sword once more, she ducked beneath it, dipping low and moving quick, finding an opening, a perfect opportunity—
And he was just a fraction too slow, a heartbeat too distracted.
Nesta’s blade found the weak spot in his armour, just below his arm.
It slid between his ribs easily, cutting through leather and flesh and sinew as smoothly as a hot knife through butter, and the breath he took echoed in her ears as he gasped, a rasp sharp enough to wound all on its own. Surprise flitted across his face for the barest of seconds, his lips twisting as her sword drove deeper into his side, angled up and slicing something vital. She’d nicked his heart, and her own stuttered, missing a beat, and in the place where she’d expected to feel elation and the swell of triumph, she felt nothing— nothing but the hollowest kind of victory.
His blood spilled, slicking the hilt of her blade and flowing over her fingers, pooling in the crevices between her knuckles. She looked up, found his face, and when she saw those eyes beneath that helmet…
Something in her chest snapped.
It was a physical recoil that had her stumbling backwards, pulling her blade free and instantly wishing she’d never stepped foot on that battlefield. Something cleaved, something cracked, a thousand pieces falling into place as his blood stained her skin crimson, and his heartbeat suddenly seemed louder somehow, rebellious in the face of death.
Her sword fell from her hands.
She should have known that the gods wouldn’t let her take a life so smoothly— not his life, anyway. He swayed, staggered, one hand rising to his wound as a fresh torrent of blood rushed from his side, and the other lifted his helmet from his face and cast it aside, letting it fall in the dust.
And oh gods— he was beautiful.
His skin was burnished beneath the sun, a dark gold that brought out the brilliant hazel of his eyes, the green and gold and brown that seemed bright even as his life began to ebb away. His lips pulled into a mockery of a smile, a wry smirk.
You’d spare an enemy because of his pretty eyes, she’d quipped to Feyre that morning, and now… Gods, Nesta was on the brink of doing just that. Of begging him to live just because of the glint in those hazel eyes.
“Gods sweetheart,” he rasped, the blood seeping through his fingers. “As far as first meetings go, I’ve had better.”
His knees shook, threatened to buckle, and in that moment - one that stretched towards forever - Nesta knew with certainty that he really was hers— her mate, the one that fate had bound her to, for better or worse. Warmth swelled in her chest, and as she looked at him without his helm - his dark hair tumbling over his forehead as he tipped his face down, eyes bright despite his pain - she felt her heart ache, felt it break as he stumbled.
Nesta lurched forwards and caught him by the arm, her fingers gripping his leathers, feeling the hardened muscle taut beneath. He groaned as the breath slipped between his lips, pressing a hand harder to his side to staunch the bleeding, but still he canted his face to the side, catching her eye and offering her a smirk that beggared belief.
“Although,” he continued, his voice so liltingly smooth it was almost hard to believe Nesta had just dealt him a fatal blow, “I’ve had worse, too.”
“You’re an idiot,” she muttered, fingers tightening around his arm. She didn’t know why she held on— why she lingered. She should have cut him down and moved on. She’d have been half way across the battlefield by now.
He knew it, too. He was just as trained in strategy as she was, just as adept at killing.
“I’m not the one wasting time on an enemy soldier, princess.”
Enemy.
The word clanged through her, jolting her out of all good sense. She studied his face— that beautiful, rugged face that her heart already seemed to know as intimately as her own. Stubble graced a sharp jaw, generous lips curved up even though they ought to have been curling in pain, and even though his breathing was laboured, rasping, his voice felt familiar to her somehow, like she’d heard it before, somewhere in a dream. He was her mate— not her enemy. Never her enemy, even if they’d found themselves through poor luck on opposite sides of this war.
She wondered if he’d felt it too, if he’d noticed the bond clicking into place as her sword slipped between his ribs.
He faltered.
His blood still refused to slow, the wound too great for his fae blood to heal. Nesta cursed, and the warrior hissed as he sank to his knees, no longer able to stand. She felt her own knees threaten to give way too, a trembling unease racking her as he pitched forwards onto his hands, resting one palm on the ground as the other still pressed hard at his wound. Wrong, it was wrong, wrong, wrong, and she didn’t care that a war still waged around them, didn’t care that the clash of battle still echoed through her ears.
Desperately, she looked out across the battlefield.
Feyre— where was Feyre?
Her sister could heal him, could stitch that torn skin back together and keep him here, mend him and stop his life from slipping through his fingers. Nesta just needed to find her, to get a message to her and—
His arm shook, couldn’t hold his weight.
“Maybe when this is all over, I can take you out for a drink princess,” the warrior said, his voice cracking only a little as he spoke, showing barely a hint of the pain that must have been roaring through him.
Grief surged in her gut, and Nesta fell to her knees too. Her hand joined his, fingers slipping between the gaps in his knuckles as she put extra pressure on that wound and prayed that the bleeding would stop.
It didn’t.
“When all this is over you’ll probably be dead,” she said sharply, but the moment the words left her she regretted them. Regretted that her blade had ever pierced his flesh at all.
He hummed, and somehow he found the strength to lift one bloodied hand to her face, tracing the curve of her jaw with a finger. His touch was light, but it seared her right down to her bones and the bond in her chest thrummed, sang.
“True,” he said, shrugging. The movement pulled at his wound, sent a fresh cascade of blood spilling between his fingers and over hers. “Perhaps I’ll find you in the next life then, and we can have a drink there instead.”
His eyelids fluttered, and oh gods— Nesta couldn’t bear to see this man die. Something inside her revolted at the thought, like it would be the worst thing in the world to have him leave it without her, and a broken sound escaped her as she lifted her head up again, searching for her sister through the fray. Had she found the warrior with the night-black armour? Did she have a blade at his neck even now, and would Feyre regret it later, if she pierced his throat the way Nesta had pierced the General’s side?
Panic built in her chest, something that felt almost like a scream, and she cast her mind wide, praying Feyre would hear her.
Please, she begged. Please help me. Save him.
“No,” she said to the warrior who could no longer hold himself up on his knees. He tilted to the side, and Nesta eased him to the floor, mindful of his wings, taking him in her arms until his head lay in her lap, her arms around his shoulders. “I won’t allow you to die. I won’t.”
One hazel eye cracked open. “Should’ve thought of that before you stabbed me then, sweetheart.”
“I didn’t…” Nesta began, but cut herself off as her chest heaved. “I didn’t know you were…”
“What?” he asked, but his voice was slurring. Nesta only shook her head, patting his cheek to keep him conscious until Feyre could reach them.
Just a little longer, Nesta thought desperately. Hold on just a little longer.
“What’s your name?” she asked in a bid to keep his eyes open.
“Cassian.”
Cassian. It thrummed through her, her chest tightening. She shouldn’t have learned his name as he lay dying in her arms, shouldn’t have felt that bond snap the moment she cut his life short. But the gods were cruel— crueller than she’d ever imagined, and as she held her dying mate in her arms, Nesta nodded, feeling his name echo through her.
He groaned, and Nesta pushed back the hair from his face, her fingers lingering at his temple.
I’m coming, Feyre said into Nesta’s mind, and Nesta’s hands fell to his shoulders, gripping him tightly as though she could hold the shattered pieces of his life together, keep his thread from snapping. Hold on.
“And yours?” Cassian coughed, the little breath he had left rattling in his throat. “Don’t let me die without knowing your name.”
“You’re not going to die,” Nesta countered.
He tried to shrug again, but didn’t have the strength.
“Tell me your name,” he whispered. “Please.”
A solitary tear rolled down Nesta’s cheek.
“Nesta,” she answered.
A small hum left him, and Feyre was closing in now, only feet away, but he was fading, slipping, his breaths stumbling in his throat—
“Nesta,” he repeated as his eyes fluttered closed again, and this time…
This time they did not reopen.
***
When the dust had settled and the blood had dried, Nesta Archeron waited in her tent.
The sound of battle had long since quieted, and outside the sun was setting, making shadows of the fallen that still littered the battlefield. Her heart was cut to ribbons, her nerves too, and she had spent so long around bloodshed and violence that she hadn’t thought anything could faze her until today— until she found her mate, right as her blade cut through his flesh.
Her sword leaned against a chest in her tent now, still coated with his blood.
It made her feel sick.
And then—
A breath, rattling and gasping, cleaved the silence. In the dimness of her tent his eyes cracked open, and as Cassian lay propped up against the pillows, he lifted his head. He let out a soft groan, one that was softened at the edges, as though he were still dazed. Nesta’s heart thumped, her own breath catching as he cast his eyes down to the bandages that Feyre had wrapped tight across his chest after healing the wound to his side.
He had been an inch from death. Another second and he would have been too far gone, but Feyre had sank to her knees beside him the moment he closed his eyes, had grabbed hold of his life before it could slip away entirely. She had taken one look at Nesta’s face and healed him, and they didn’t need to speak, didn’t need to discuss it.
She had healed him, and helped Nesta carry him back to her tent afterwards.
“Nesta,” Cassian rasped now, spying her seated on the edge of the bed. Her bed. “You stabbed me.”
Breathless, Nesta nodded. Her eyes wandered down to his ribs, as if she could still see the blood that had left him, the wound she had dealt. She waited for his anger— his vengeance, retribution. But the General before her only let out a dry laugh as he pushed up onto his forearms.
“How incredibly attractive of you,” he muttered.
Nesta blinked. “…What?”
He grinned— the same kind of grin that had driven her half to madness out there on the battlefield.
“What can I say?” he shrugged, lifting a hand and feeling tentatively across his ribs. “Women with blades turn me on.”
“You can’t be serious.”
He grinned again. “And you can’t hate me half as much as you pretend you do.” He looked at his surroundings, eyes lingering on the armour she’d taken off and discarded in the corner. “After all, you had me brought to your tent.”
“How do you know this is my tent?”
He winked. “Call me observant.”
Nesta couldn’t help but snort. “You were hardly observant when my blade went through your ribs.”
“No, I wasn’t, was I?” His eyebrows drew together, a parody of a frown. “Hasn’t anybody ever told you that your beauty is a rather lethal distraction, sweetheart?”
“Hasn’t anybody ever told you to hold your tongue before somebody cuts it out?”
A glint entered his eyes then, entirely wicked as his lips kicked up into a devious smirk. “Oh, I’ve heard plenty about my tongue.”
“You’re a beast.”
He lifted one shoulder in an idle shrug, his hands wandering to the bandages again. He dipped his head, dark hair falling over his face as he did, and gods— Nesta wanted to brush it back, wanted to feel it slip through her fingers. Lightly, he prodded the bandage Feyre had wrapped him in.
“Who did this?” he asked softly.
“My sister,” Nesta answered. “She was… born blessed with a handful of powers. Healing happens to be one of them.”
Cassian blinked. “And you had her use such a power on an enemy soldier?”
I had her race across a battlefield dodging blades to use it on an enemy soldier, and then I had her help carry that soldier back to my own tent where she could heal him some more to make sure she hadn’t missed anything the first time.
“Yes,” Nesta said blandly.
“Why?”
Because you’re my mate— because I felt the bond snap the moment my blade pierced your flesh. Because I am yours and you are mine, and you’re not my enemy— never were.
“Because,” she shrugged. “I’d witnessed enough death already.”
Cassian snorted. “How flattering. And here I thought you saved me because you liked my pretty face.”
“Oh, I never said I didn’t.”
“Knew it.”
A small smile touched Nesta’s lips, and she lowered her gaze to his chest. Reaching out, she traced her fingers over his bandages, over the same path he’d just explored with his own hands.
“It doesn’t hurt?” she whispered.
“No, sweetheart,” he said gently. “Your sister did a good job.”
Gods— she was trying to ignore how close she was to his lips, how warm he felt beneath her hand. She swallowed, fighting the urge to lay her palm flat over his heart and measure its beat, and even though she wanted nothing more than to delve deep inside her and find that bond that stretched between her soul and his, to dance along it and feel it thrum beneath her…
She resisted.
Cassian swallowed, all hint of mirth falling from his face as he curled a finger beneath her jaw and lifted her gaze to his.
“Why?” he breathed. “Tell me really— why did you save me?”
Mute, Nesta shook her head.
She couldn’t form words, couldn’t think or speak or breathe. She could only look into those hazel eyes and wonder how she’d survived so long without them. His face softened, and as he blinked slowly he lifted his finger from beneath her chin and brushed it along her cheek.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been that close to death before,” he said idly, his eyes turning molten as he scanned her face. She didn’t know what he was searching for, but when he gave her a small smile, she wondered if he’d found it. There was some kind of wonder in his eyes, some kind of fascination that had the hazel sparkling. “I don’t know whether I should applaud you or kiss you.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You don’t think you should try and exact some revenge? Kill me the way I almost killed you?”
He huffed a laugh, and the sound was warm and soft and gentle, the kind that Nesta wanted to wrap herself in forever. “I told you before. Where would be the fun in that?”
Nesta rolled her eyes. The Cauldron had tied her to this man— this ridiculous man, and yet her chest warmed inexplicably at the sight of his smile. Suddenly a path stretched before her, one where he wasn’t her enemy. One where she woke with him each morning and heard that laugh as the dawn stretched its fingers through the sky, one where she felt his kiss as each night fell, his arms around her as they slept. Her heart swelled, and she dipped her face to hide a smile.
“Don’t,” he whispered, palming her cheek and lifting her chin back up. The edges of her smile faded, and he dragged his thumb across the corner of her lips. “I love that smile.”
“Need I remind you that I tried to kill you?”
“Not at all, princess. I love that, too.”
She wondered if he felt it yet— if he could tell that the twinge in his chest wasn’t just his wounds healing, but something of an entirely different nature. Had he realised yet, that the crack behind his ribs before hadn’t been her blade skimming the edge of his heart, but a bond settling into place?
Nesta didn’t think so, and now wasn’t the time to break it to him. Instead, she slowly pulled away and got to her feet, heading straight for the chest in the corner of her tent. He watched as she opened it, rifling through piles of clothes and fresh armour, and even with her back turned she felt the keen edge of his attention, sharper than any blade.
It made her feel slightly dizzy.
At last her fingers closed around the neck of a bottle— one she’d stolen months ago and stashed away, a fine vintage she’d been saving for a rainy day. She pulled it from the chest with a flourish now.
There were no glasses. They’d have to drink straight from the bottle, but it didn’t matter. She lifted it, and the man she’d almost killed look back at her across the tent with a fire in his eyes.
And Nesta looked at her mate, lying on her bed and wrapped in bandages and said,
“How about that drink?
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Okay but here's my main narrative issue with CX-2 as Tech within the canon context: it utterly undermines Crosshair's plot and goes in the face of the entire TBB throughline of agency and choosing to do and be the right thing even if it's hard.
Crosshair's plot--and the plot of all the regs--is one of agency after moral injury. The chip made them do horrible shit, but then its influence fades (or it's removed) and they're left with the reality of having done something they thought was right but know, deep down, was not. And this is horrifying, and breaks all of them in various ways. There's a series of contrasts being laid out in this, which Tech as a CX simply doesn't work with.
Those who made it out:
Cody, Howzer, and Crosshair all save themselves from it over the course of their personal plots. Rex is saved by Ahsoka but left with the emotional scars and determination to save others from it.
Those who are trapped:
Wolffe, a good man convinced he's doing the right thing. Other regs like Wolffe. And then we have the CXes.
The CXes being magically brainwashed, unlike Wolffe and the other regs who are caught by the moral injury of their chips, clashes with this and simply doesn't fit. But what does fit is the type of cult indoctrination and brainwashing we see in our own world. People who are highly vulnerable being targeted by such groups and recruited. That is a similar trap that Wolffe is in, he's just (in effect) recruited himself.
Why 'Scifi Brainwashing' the CXes is a Bad Plot
Scifi-magic-brainwashing is no different than a fully active control chip. It's the same thing, and the whole POINT of S2 was how those were failing or wearing off (or being removed). Why would the plot just roll back on that? 'Well now it's some torture horror method and not a biotech chip'. Okay why not just say Hemlock figured out how to make the chips work again? Hemlock's entire elevator pitch in The Summit was that he'd found a way to NOT NEED fancy biotech brainwashing. That was his point, that he'd found a way to 'convince' them instead. So Scifi-magic-brainwashing doesn't make sense here plot wise, and while Bad Writing is always an option, much of the season has been top tier. I don't think they'd negate their own plot so thoroughly.
What IS CX Conditioning
What Hemlock seems to be doing is more traditional cult indoctrination and brainwashing. You put people in a Situation--this probably does involve torture but that's not the same as mindflayers and control chips--and now you're testing their resilience (emotional AND physical). Conforming becomes a choice, and is once again about agency and deciding to do the right thing. This kind of decision is a common theme in TBB, and is undermined by magically forcing people to be something they're not. I grant you, the choice might be 'convert or die', but since Cross was resisting and still alive and not even completely physically wrecked we can assume it's survivable. Awful, but you can get through it.
And a traditional conditioning would fail on Crosshair precisely because he saved himself from the aftermath of his chip already. He slowly realized what was happening, what he was part of. He finally broke free by killing Nolan, a sort of reverse of the situation with Caleb/Kanan. The regs being conditioned, though, they've not already had this breakthrough, they're much more vulnerable to choosing the CX route. Crosshair has been through this rodeo, he knows it's all bullshit.
What about Tech?
Tech, IMO, wouldn't be susceptible to it either; I guess you can argue he might, but I think that gets into some ugly stereotypes about autistic people being amoral and morally gray and etc. Simply put, there's no reason for Tech to be vulnerable to cult brainwashing just because he didn't have to fight it off the first time. I know some people have tried to push back on this with 'anyone CAN be brainwashed' but like...okay we're back to, why would Tech choose that. That's the thing here--what motivation would Tech have for falling to that beyond 'make the torture stop'? Our mans walked on a busted femur for HOW long, defeated 3 clones with one? And this person would fall to traditional cult mentality? I don't know that I can agree on that.
Then there's the added narrative complications:
Tech would have revealed Pabu the second Omega escaped if he was a CX
...unless he had amnesia, which would fit with him being vulnerable to CX conditioning but now we have CX and amnesiac Tech??
How is this being resolved in 4 episodes, given we know the earliest they can reclaim him is ep 10/11 because we see CX-2 as part of the Pabu invasion?
Sure, they can magically fix him somehow (feel free to choose your preferred method) but now we're back to, this flies in the face of the TBB plot of choice and living with what you actually chose to do, as well as what you were forced to do. It negates Cross' plot, which was a 3 season journey of repairing himself. Now we'd repair Tech from the same thing in one episode? I don't see that happening.
Anyways. This is a perfectly fun plot for fics and the like, where we can fudge bits of the story, stretch it out like taffey, imagine different options. But the canon has severe runtime constraints which would hamper this kind of plot without hurting other narrative threads they've established. You'd need a good season to really lay out a Tech-CX-2 plot which wouldn't conflict with Cross's own plot. They don't have a season, they have 6 episodes max, probably less.
#star wars#spoilers#the bad batch#tbb tech#I like it for fanfic#but for canon I just don't see it working#tech tbb#tech the bad batch
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i love the old married couple portion of your follow up to sober ii (melodrama)! outsider povs just tickle the brain, especially in tsh where the characters are so just disconnected from normal society. out of curiosity, have you thought any more about how students/peers/other people view francis and richard throughout that au?
i love that portion too i think the idea of them as this long established couple (for all intents and purposes, altho they may have deviated from certain aspects of a nuclear family monogamous relationship) is so funny & interesting. like sober ii already does so much legwork from canon and then the followup even further so by the time we hit middle age it’s a free country for what is allowed.
you’re right in that the tsh cast are deep weirdos to anyone normal interacting w them. i think they have naturally changed somewhat by the time we reach them in that portion bc for francis he’s now (gag) middle class and sort of domesticated / for richard he’s like.. in a long term relationship w a man (it’s funny they have reverse things to get used to) & plus yk there’s the whole thing where they’re both deeply troubled individuals with abusive childhood drama and bad relationship history so probably sticking it out together has done some healing / good down the line. so in some ways they’re a little more Normal mentally. but that said they are still weirdo murderers with terrible personalities who would both annoy and enable each other so not that normal.
talking abt how they go from sober ii to where we see them in their 40s is a separate post so in terms of outsider pov specifically i’d say they do kind of stick to themselves (codependent freaks) but like in the neighbourhood / on campus / in montreal classics circles they def have relationships and certain uhh reputations that go with them.
richard’s students are a fairly niche group so i think as a whole they tend to like him- if nothing else he’s genuine in his love of the material and he’s attractive and kind of reserved so he’s probably at his least annoying / cringe / questionable when teaching despite his inner monologue. he probs has bad timekeeping (cf his flop job at hampden) and pretentious grading but generally okay. we know he comes across much more sane and sound to people who don’t know him well (very tartt, we love). and then they don’t know francis at all apart from Maybe as f. abernathy the classics translator guy. so realistically to the students they’re actually quite a cool addition to the student rumour mill. i think over the years there have been random glimpses of them but never anything interesting until the fic incident, or similar ones that make it obvious professor papen has what seems to be a boyfriend. then everyone is ‘literally obsessed’. i don’t know if anyone ever IDs them as witnesses to the hampden murder-suicides on a true crime podcast and then gets excited about their tragic backstory and inspiring romance, but that would be fun.
professional peers see more of them obviously, but they do still keep to themselves a lot. richard’s colleagues’ opinions vary depending on how much interaction they’ve had with him and in what context, bc he definitely has beef with administration and some colleagues whose courses he doesn’t respect. he’s professionally respectable though. francis is a fairly lowkey presence in translation- he got initial buzz from the julian student clout but he only sporadically networks. he definitely has culture friends who gossip amongst themselves about him vanishing from boston so close to the wedding and no one hearing from him until his book got published. alex from NY wants to fuck both of them but finds them annoying as talents and good in small doses as friends. most of that author circle is at least a little jealous of them as a couple, maybe because they flourish when amongst people they can close ranks on.
in terms of other canon charas… some of that feels like its own post too. judy does not particularly get why richard is into francis but she thinks they’re a hot item and she overall likes them and their weird little bohemian* lifestyle (*misrepresented). she thinks they’re a good match. charles would not have very nice things to say. i think he’d think richard ‘fell for it’ with francis. his own complicated relationship with francis would predispose him to think they weren’t a genuine item. if he saw them down the line as an established couple he would probably just find it funny. and camilla… she’s sort of like “good for you crazy kids”. like it’s completely random to her but it tickles her nihilistic brain. later esp if she’s around them in person for some reason she’s just completely on board with it and has a strong fondness for their relationship bc it’s like, this one weird positive thing to have come out of the whole hampden disaster, AND it’s taken a lot of the strain out of richard’s relationship to her even though he never especially lets go of his camilla-shrine. richard’s naturally Very Embarrassed about being in any way datey with francis around her but it tapers off with age/habit despite his best efforts. francis on the other hand perversely enjoys making richard uncomfortable around camilla. guess which one she enables.
#qui parle#qui repond#tsh#sober ii#papenathy#richard papen#francis abernathy#iitfy#the secret history
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So i started watching Pahkitew Island
If im gonna be making a video, i might as well record my first reaction to the episodes! and because i wanted an excuse to do something with them, i watched the first two episodes with @rockin-it-rusty!
I'll start with my thoughts on half the basic concept of the Season, being way more inspired by Survivor than the other seasons. The first challenge is fun too! God i wish it was better utilised! So far it's just been used in the first few minutes as an excuse for character interaction and a reward for the winning team.
In general the concept is good, with an ok execution. Im not going to comment on the Robot-Island thing since we haven't gotten to it yet.
As for my opinion on the characters:
-I didn't care much for Beardo or Leonard. I have a similar opinion to them as Staci in canon; they're just a gimmick, and if that's the only thing the writters wanted to do with them, im glad they got out first. (Rusty doesn't agree at all and misses their silly boys already)
-I get Jasammy shippers now, they have a nice dynamic! Wish Jasmine called her Sammy!
-Max is funny, idk what to tell you. He is so ridiculous and stupid, it's great. I love cartoon violence
-Sky's fine so far, definitly the most down to earth character so far, and the moment with her calming down Dave was fun. GOD i wish they did something else with them :(
-Topher's SUCH a suck-up during the first two episodes it's crazy. Also there's actually a progression in the story even during the first two episodes
-DID NOT KNOW CHRIS HAD BEEF WITH ELLA THIS EARLY LMAOOO HE HATES HER
-Speaking of which, LOVE her voice. She's so sweet and deserves the world :)
-God i wish they made Amy and Sammy actually interesting characters. They are begging for more context, character and traits.
-Jasmine's fun. Genuinly wondering why they decided "Australian" was a trope to pick but she's good so far
-Scarlett fades into the background sooo much early on. She's had like four lines and three of them were in episode 1. She's smart yeah, and definitly a nerd, but that's it so far lol
-Dave's kinda annoying. Ground Breaking take, i know. Mostly during the first episode though
-Shawn's also been mostly in the background so far, but he does have a reason for it in his character and i like that.
-Sugar's fun too, she was really fun with her liking of Leonard (also i wouldn't call it a crush? so she DOES escape the "girl likes a guy" curse let's go!!!!) and immediate doubt in Ella's honesty. Really compelling to me.
-Oh and Rodney exists i guess. Yeah he's fine. His crushing gimmick is entertaining at least
TLDR: Not too bad so far! Pretty fun! Characters are fun and Basic Concept good! solid 6/10 so far!
#cheese posting#string cheesing#total drama pahkitew island#tdpi#td leonard#td beardo#td dave#td sky#td jasmine#td sugar#td ella#td sammy#td amy#td shawn#td rodney#td topher#td max#td scarlett
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Hi cupcake! Anti-Venom and 2, 4 and 12 for the ask game?
Hi honeybun! Sorry for the delay, I was busy horsing around! And thank you so much for the ask, I will try to not spontaneously combust while talking about my fave! And you did ask about my fave, so you brought this on yourself! Here we go!
2. Favourite canon thing about this character?
Before I start, I have to let you know, I am Indecisive(TM). As fuck. Which means I often don't have favourites simply because I cannot choose which one to pick. And also there are so many things about him that I love. Like his design. I love all the symbiotes but there is just something about his face and the way he looks that scratches my brain just right and makes me go apeshit. And that he is a wet pathetic dumbass extraordinaire, worse than when he is Venom even though he desperately tries to pretend like he's got his shit together. Like, they were always idiots but I swear Symby took half the braincells in the divorce, and when he got Anti they had to split what was left. And of course the whole religious nut messiah complex is funny as hell. Also little things like the way using his healing powers leaves him conked out, and the way he grows tiny spikes all over when he gets agitated or upset. God I love his little spikes. And also the way he embodies the whole "If I cannot be wanted, I will be needed, and if I cannot be needed I will be used until there is nothing left". Aughhh.
4. If you could put this character in any other media, be it a book, a movie, anything, what would you put them in?
I actually don’t do a lot of crossovers between different media, as I usually prefer putting my blorbos in situations in their own universe, or completely off the shits headcanons. But remember that story idea about symbiotes disguising themselves while in the spider verse? Yeah, I've stuck him in the spider verse a number of times for shits and giggles. Also because the multiverse means unlimited potential for settings and situations for them all to get roped into. Otherwise I do like putting him in medieval or fantasy settings, usually in multiverse context, because symbiote dragons babey!
12. What's a headcanon you have for this character?
Oh my. There are SO MANY HEADCANONS swirling around my noggin. (Like, I use canon for cherry picking, then take that and bits and pieces of fanon and anything I can find that I like and put it in a blender, then fill the gaps with whatever headcanons I feel like. Just frankensteining together several versions of him in my head that are between 30-80% headcanon, I keep them on rotation for whatever fits the mood.) One of my main headcanons is that Anti-Venom survives the spider island event. Simply because I don’t want him to die, and for fanfic plot reasons so that he and Agent Venom get more fun times together ;). I have a few different takes on how exactly the symbiote lives on, but it's kinda similar to how Carnage had bonded so closely with its host that it never really left, and could regenerate itself over time from the smallest traces in his body. Bonus points are that the biblical similarities of Anti-Venom sacrificing itself to save the souls of the innocent by giving up its body, only to rise from the dead some time later would absolutely send Eddie's messiah complex into overdrive and make him even more insufferable. Oh, right, and I should probably also mention that I frequently headcanon Anti-Venom as sentient/sapient. Because I want to, and because it makes things a lot more interesting. But I won't go into more detail about that here or else this will turn into a dissertation.
Hope you enjoyed my ramblings! I think I need to go lie down now...
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more thoughts on last nights episode—spoilers for unmortenrick idk i’ll get better with titles eventually
i think a few people have said that there was a lot all at once in the episode-which i think i can agree with, but i am silly and simple and was just thrilled and excited with what we got—but i think we were better off with this in one episode. maybe it was a bit sudden, but maybe it was about time too? i think a consistent “line” the writers might teeter on, and that the fandom might expect, is serialization vs one offs, and tackling primes death and evil mortys back story in one episode felt satisfying for me at least. i think if it was in two parts or set apart for another season i think i’d at least be a little frustrated. being too serialized and dragging it out might be something the writers try to avoid? it felt in depth enough for me, even though it was a lot. rick and morty has always been a show that knows its two different sets of story telling, i know i love it all.
sometimes i feel like a yes man, but i really didn’t have any issues with this episode. i think it’s realistic to be suddenly fast paced and thrown into what goes on in the universe, and all of a sudden primes dead (or is he)?
side note, any other fanfic writers that have been writing outside the central finite curve, are we all scrambling to make tweaks to personal canon lol? i loved the scene showing all those portals, all those dimensional beings, sudden death, whew i wanna use it i loved it
i loved seeing evil morty here, i know some people found it unnecessary and i can understand that, but i really liked seeing further confirmation in his similarities to rick, along with them co-existing. our morty hasn’t been very centralized so far this season, and i know we’ve gotten an onslaught of old character cameos (nostalgia baiting?) but evil morty feels justified in the context of a pushed to the side kind of subservient morty we have right now. our r&m haven’t interacted and “developed” as much with the exception of the spaghetti episode, and next weeks cold open trailer thing might show that we’ll be getting more morty, but seeing evil morty interact with them both felt like unspoken comparison?
another side note, i’m excited for next weeks episode but i do wonder why they chose to have the first few episodes in the season be centralized on rick with morty only coming in later on. i know ricks being trying to handle his shit without him? be less dependent? but i personally don’t feel like that specifically translated.
as fun as an episode about just evil morty would be, it was never really supposed to be about him. he’s really the rickest morty- and he’s gonna fuck off. i think if anything i’ve been a little weirded out by the lack of our morty’s cynicism. he’s been too agreeable lately, and i can’t help thinking about a certain video game.
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