#nostalgia can twist your perception of the past | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

arethereanyoriginalusernames · 2 years

Text

Announcing….

Dangan-Fuck This, A Danganronpa (sort of ) Parody

Yes folks, I used to be a fan of the Danganronpa series. For anyone unfamiliar with the series, here’s a quick explanation

- it’s a killing game/mystery game

-Bunch of people are trapped somewhere and to escape, you have to get away with murder

- When someone’s killed, a trial is held where everyone plays murder among us

-if the killer is caught they get executed. If they don’t, everyone else is executed and the killer can leave

- The participants have super specific talents (Ultimate Detective, Ultimate Mechanic, etc.)

- There’s usually a mascot giving people motives to kill

I have a mix of nostalgia and frustration with this series, as it’s a series where the story could have been great, but missed the mark several times. Plus some… questionable choices by the writers.

But I’m not here to talk about that.

As a writing exercise, I’m starting… whatever this is. Here’s the business pitch

It’s your usual danganronpa game in terms of the set up, but there’s a couple catches. None of the participants have talents that are remotely useful in the killing game, the mascot character is trying to keep people from killing each other (but keeps failing), and a lot of these characters share a total of 1 brain cell. These people wouldn’t kill, normally, but someone’s trapped them… somewhere (haven’t decided where) and is turning their torment into some tasty reality tv.

Bc what’s more satisfying than watching people with the title of Ultimates be torn to shreds and knocked down a peg? And yes, the mastermind is absolutely planning to use shady reality tv editing to twist the perception viewers will get of the participants.

It’s still a work in progress but let me introduce you to some of these wack jobs

————-

Up first, our protagonist,

Dolly Wraith, the Ultimate Goth Fashion Enthusiast

Bc I think we’re past having the generic, boring male protagonist by this point.

Dolly is an influencer with a massive cult following, and is an expert on the history of goth fashion. She portrays this stereotypical goth character when online, and sometimes in person. When the killing game starts, however, this persona crumbles quickly. This is no place to be making edgy comments.

Dolly without her goth persona is reserved, awkward, and struggles to start casual conversation. She’s wary of others due to past experiences, and others tend to distance themselves from her due to her aesthetic. Isolation causes Dolly to become clingy and emotionally dependent on the few people she does befriend. She’s not popular in the killing game, and almost always gets accused bc “killing is such a goth thing to do!”

Dolly has a knack for determining if people are putting on a facade, and can tell when something is being dressed up (like a crime scene). She also is one of the most tolerant of gruesome scenes, only becoming slightly squeamish at most. Her eye for detail, usually used for fashion, comes in handy when looking for clues.

—————

Beck Jonas, the Ultimate McDonald’s Employee

Beck is a very self explanatory person. They’re not subtle about how little interest they have in other people’s bullshit. Having worked at McDonald’s from the age of 14, they’ve developed a tolerance for people yelling at them for no reason, getting screwed over, drama, and people generally treating them like trash. They’re not happy about it, but they’re used to it. They’re well liked by fellow employees as Beck will always look out for them, and stick up for others when needed. Beck also has the fastest order taking and order delivery speed in their state.

Beck befriends Dolly, and the two work together closely to solve cases. Beck also sticks up for her every time Dolly gets falsely accused. They want to figure out who the mastermind is so that at least some of them can survive, and Beck would rather die than be dragged into some shitty reality tv show. Beck will act respectful and courteous when necessary, but will otherwise mutter snarky comments under their breath, and are very sarcastic and tired of everyone’s bullshit

Beck is extremely good at memorizing details, and will write down any and all words spoken by anyone in their notepad. They’re also good at problem solving and finding solutions in emergencies. They’re not much of a leader, however, so they’ll probably get someone else to execute their plans.

—————-

Zizzie Twitch, the Ultimate Monster Energy Can Collector

This baby faced twitch streamer has made headlines with their uncomprehendingly massive collection of Monster Energy cans. They have no particular motivation for collecting these cans, Zizzie just feels the need to any time they see one. They run on energy drinks, and are almost vibrating with excitement at all times.

Zizzie is a polarizing person to many, as they’re either deemed annoying or endearing. During the killing game, Zizzie tries to keep everyone motivated and reminds them to not give up. Zizzie is not very confident in their intelligence however, so they tend to agree with anything anyone says. They’re a bundle of energy, but can’t stand the sight of blood, thus they don’t investigate crime scenes very often. Fortunately since they’re usually out and about, all over the place, it’s hard for anything to escape the glance of Zizzie. They will absolutely see a killer sneaking out of the kitchen, bc they’re up chugging a monster energy at 3 am (as you do)

——————

Feel free to suggest other talents to make characters out of. And thank you to @nyxcharliechaos for suggesting Monster Can Energy Collector

Here’s some others I’ve got in the works

- Ultimate Chalk Eater

- Ultimate Fortnight Dancer

- Ultimate YTP Creator

Let me know what you think!

I apologize for wasting your time

- Spooky S Skeletons

#danganronpa #fanganronpa #idk what this is

15 notes · View notes

zelihatrifles · 3 months

Text

One Hundred Years of Solitude

Márquez, the great magic realist. Márquez, the great storyteller of our times. Márquez, the turmoiler of our emotions.

Although it was a foreseeable event, the circumstances were not.

You can never grieve enough for the loss of a loved one. You of course know that the loss is inevitable but you never really expect it, or see it coming. Here, it is about the veteran gypsy Melquiades.

He writes things that make you question the whats and whys of your life, things that break your heart and twist and turn it in unforeseeable ways, things that are so simple and profound yet stay unnoticed.

... but in any case, he could not understand how people arrived at the extreme of waging war over things that could not be touched with the hand.

The title itself plunges you into a swirling tornado of alone-ness and loneliness. It makes you contemplate what distance and time does to relationships and self-perceptions. Márquez pins down sensitivity to estrangement.

They had not seen each other for such a long time that Colonel Gerineldo Márquez was upset by the aggressiveness of the reaction.

The old Catalonian bookseller who is another Melquiades-like figure in the book, he often spews pearls of wisdom. When he is returning home by ship, he laments the degeneration of the world and the values it's come to prioritise:

"the world must be all fucked up," he said then, "when men travel first class and literature goes as freight."

All the untruths, fabrications, deaths, violences and losses in the novel which spans so much more than hundred years lead the old bookseller to lose his sense of repose and constructs new truths as he leaves his home of so long.

Upset by two nostalgias facing each other like two mirrors, he lost his marvelous sense of unreality and he ended up recommending to all of them that day leave Macondo, that they forget everything he had taught them about the world and the human heart, that they shit on Horace, and that wherever they might be they always remember that the past was a lie, that memory has no return, that every spring gone by could never be recovered, and that the wildest and most tenacious love was an ephemeral truth in the end.

#books #reading #currently reading #favourite #gabriel garcía márquez #one hundred years of solitude #magic realism #fiction #novel #latin american literature #impressions not reviews

1 note · View note

morihaus · 3 years

Text

White Hands

A single, uncoiled strand of time carries him to this moment, crossing the bridge in the shadow of the tower. The old familiar haze of un-time washes over the knight's mind as he moves with purpose through the dreamlike world of the indefinite, lit by crackling thunder and the light of falling stars.

Citizens of Rumaranth scatter around Trinimac, making war and peace with one another, weaving interlocking tapestries that become ever-shifting with the uncertainty of their cyclical lives; some pay him heed and look on in awe, others run into their homes or cast stones at him, which merely clatter harmlessly from the interlocking sheets of crystalline glass. The flawless surface of his armor continues to reflect the many warped visions of his surroundings.

He is of a single mind, however, and passes through without concern. He cuts this path through the frenzied arena for a meeting at White-Gold- he's checked Ada-Mantia, thinking the lord of that tower may have returned, but it seems that instead he lingers at the source of this calamity- and nothing gives him pause as he enters the Imperial Palace. Nothing, save for a presence in the throne room, and then, the sight of the emperor.

It's the hole in his chest. His brilliant silver armor shows a massive crack along his left breast, revealing a dark cavity, lit by the regular pulse of a red crystal within it. He lays motionless upon the throne, pale like death, placid like the sea before the storm- even like this, he grips a mace tightly in his sword-hand, letting it hang over one side of the throne as he slouches.

He notices Trinimac, regarding him with eyes of cold-fire, familiar and unnerving. "Who visits my court? Is it war?" He sits up, cutting an ill-mannered figure as a ruler as he leans in with interest. "It's been too long since I've fought a good war. It calms the storms that rage in my clouded mind." His eyes travel rapidly and he blinks not once as he analyzes the man stood before him.

Trinimac is not sure what to say to that, what to say to this figure at all for that matter. The resemblance is unmistakable, even past the conspicuous cavity; the figure sat before him struck him as remarkably similar to the frigid corpse he met in long-gone green Atmora, the cruel features of a friend who could no longer recognize, familiarity without warmth. Yet he finds no recognition in this man's eyes, which scan him as a stranger, expectant of a response.

"I'm here to see Auri-El." He says.

This appears to have been the wrong thing to say, as he suddenly darts up to his feet, raising mace to make a threatening decree. "Then you have come to the wrong place, elf! Those pointy ears, I should have known!..." He scowls across at the aedroth. "So it IS war!"

"No," Trinimac says rather quickly, the prospect of battle with this misplaced corpse failing to excite him. "I have no quarrel with you, my business is with him." Being called 'elf' is odd to him, for some reason, and the venom with which it is uttered takes him off guard. Perhaps it is no surprise he should still hold a grudge, but to not recognize his own executioner?

"'Business'? Hah! The only business of the elven god is oppression and misrule, scarcely any better than consorting with the daedra." His face is serious as he speaks, his eyes seem to flicker and spark before Trinimac's glow, illuminating the dim white halls of the chamber, decorated only with tapestries of dragons and red diamonds. "You Old Ehlnofey are bold, to walk to the feet of the human king, asking to meet with your god. Perhaps it is only my duty to do you this favor?"

He watches as the strange man grips the handle of his mace, narrowing his eyes as he harbors conflicting feelings. It should be just as appropriate, he supposes, that he be undone by that which he himself sundered. But had he not come here to meet with Auri-El? And would it not be cruel, subjecting this one to the burden he bears now, the blood of a once-friend staining his hands and his spirit? Then again, perhaps he, in some twist of fortune, has forgotten. He should only be so lucky.

"Who are you?" Trinimac asks.

The question seems to almost instantly distract the other knight, who rights his posture to proclaim. "I am the last emperor of the Nedes. I am the answer to the question put towards elven ruling. I am the succor of man. I am called Pelinal, Whitestrake, Champion of the Divines."

The flowery titles do little more than confuse the god further. "Champion?"

"And who are you, to ask this of me, elf?" Pelinal steps forward, raising his chin to meet his eyes with a challenging gaze.

Looking down at the last emperor, he lets out a soft breath as he considers his response. "...I am Trinimac. Nothing more."

Pelinal wrinkles his nose up as though he'd been insulted. "Trinimac...?" He blinks- for the first time, his visitor notes. "I have not heard your name. Are you one of their sorcerer-kings?"

"No."

"Their wizard-generals? Mage-slavers?"

"No. Who is 'they'?"

"The Ayleids! Do you serve them?"

"No." The word did not ring familiar.

"Hm..." Pelinal turns his head to gaze thoughtfully over at an empty corner, before looking back up. "Strange. I had not expected one from over the seas. What is it you want?"

"I've told you." He says, growing weary as he grows perplexed. "I'm not an elf. And you're not really a man, are you?"

The emperor looks scandalized, mouth agape, but no indignant words flutter out.

Trinimac puts a hand to his breastplate. "I am a spirit. You are too."

"No," Pelinal says. "I am not."

Trinimac lifts his hand now to point at Pelinal's breast. "You have a hole, in your chest."

Pelinal pauses and looks down at himself. "...Yes."

"You are not mortal."

"No."

"You say you are mortal?"

"Yes," Pelinal nods. "I have died."

"And yet, you are here."

Pelinal frowns at him. Trinimac feels as though this conversation is intrinsically the wrong way around, as though explaining the stars to Magnus. He also feels Pelinal is being overly stubborn, but to pretend he wasn't once the same would be untruthful.

"I'm sorry, but," Trinimac bites his tongue as he ponders on the most diplomatic way he could say this. "I feel that we've met. You're... Shor, aren't you?"

Pelinal pulls the most indignant expression yet, actually spitting at his feet at this accusation. "Wipe your tongue clean of that name! It does not belong in your mouth, nor over my head!" His incensed voice reverberates through the expansive chamber, as though he were speaking from everywhere at once.

The knight's brow furrows. On some level, he agrees, who is he to speak of the dead? Still, he presses on. "I've met Shor. We... we were shield-brothers." He steels himself to stay firm and stand rigid straight even as guilt claws at his innards.

"With *you?!*" Pelinal cries. "Don't speak such slipshod lies!"

And even if it is the truth, Trinimac's heart sinks as though he were lying. For how can he call that the truth, knowing what more there is to the story? "I don't claim to understand it. He never made things simple..." He shrugs off the acidic grip of nostalgia and looks forward to the man he sees in this moment, primed to strike like a frenzied animal. "I see you and I see Shor. These are strange... times, I thought you might..."

And at this moment, something snaps along the tangled web of confused time, a crack of thunder only just perceptible to Trinimac, one that causes the Whitestrake to drop his mace as he clutches his head, screaming out in pain and collapsing to his knees.

In a moment, Trinimac forgets himself, rushing forward to help this uncanny visage of a friend. He extends a hand, but as Pelinal opens a fiery eye to see it, it sparks to life with white-light without warning, and he bounds backwards with fear as though barreled into, clutching his hand defensively over his chest.

Trinimac recoils as well, clutching at his own wrist as the white hand trembles.

The two of them stand and sit there, chests heaving and heavy with dread.

It is minutes, perhaps tens of minutes, before either of them speak again. Pelinal lifts himself up onto shaky limbs, leaning against the throne while Trinimac holds his hand out away from his own body, regarding it with fear, and the other's rattled countenance with remorse.

"...I am sorry, Trinimac." A soft voice cuts through the silence, Pelinal wears a dour expression, displaying a humanity not yet seen. "For not recognizing you. Really, I... don't know where my mind's gone, these days." An alien smile tugs gently at his lips for just a moment, before giving way to grief.

Trinimac blinks. "I-" His face screws up as he hears his own voice, vulnerable, sorrowful, quaking once again before another corpse. "Don't worry about it. I'm sorry, I've... intruded. I'll be going now."

But before he could, Pelinal reaches out a hurried hand. "Wait, please-" His own jaw clamps up, he takes a breath. "You don't need to go. I'd quite like your company."

Half-turned already, Trinimac looks back at him. He knows he should go. He has something important to get over with. And yet, he paces back over- maintaining a modest distance for their mutual comfort- and looks down to Pelinal. "...What is this, then? This form?"

Pelinal regards himself, shifting his body around as though only just now aware of it. "It's... well, I'm an incarnate." He looks off, morose. "I'm not exactly Shor, Shezarr, Lorkhan. There's... something of him, in here," He lays a hand on his breastplate, beside the hole. "But I am Pelinal. Hero to men, enemy to elves, liberator of the Nedes, divine-sent knight of Akatosh."

Trinimac nods. "Akatosh..." He frowns. "I'd heard that's what... he, calls himself here." He looks to Pelinal, equal parts perplexed and sympathetic.

He lets his head hang in response, giving a weak nod. "Yes. Though this confession weighs on me, at this point, there is no refuting it."

"You're the champion of Auri-El then."

"I suppose I am."

Another quiet interlude overtakes their exchange as they ruminate on the irony, the tragedy, and the cruel comedy of it all.

"Is it okay," Pelinal speaks up once again, lifting his head up to address his fellow knight. "If I ask you something?"

Trinimac simply nods.

His gaze trails off now, as he begins his query. "I cannot remember all that you have done at his command. To think on it too long leaves me agitated, stricken with madness and anger, as these things I know better than grief. Whatever you've done, I'm sure there is yet worse than convention, and far greater quantities. So, it is with this knowledge that I ask... how does one forgive himself?"

Trinimac is unsure how to respond.

Pelinal takes his silence as an opportunity to elaborate. "The things I have done under the dragon... they horrify me, and horrify those that I love. Perhaps it is true that I despise the elves and would see their Auriellic pantomime stricken from this world not meant for kings, but... in his hand, I was a sword, an instrument made to play myself. He directed me, but I carried out what I did with terrible enthusiasm. I wanted for nothing else but bloodshed, for it was bloodshed that best suited his needs. And now, though rage still burns within me, and madnesses still take me, I am left sometimes with my own thoughts, and I contemplate what I have done. It... it haunts me." He looks to the god with a pleading hope. "It's been so long for you- you must know something, some way to face yourself and your deeds."

Trinimac looks to him gravely. "...I do not."

This puts Pelinal to silence, and his gaze is put back to the floor.

There is a briefer silence this time, before Pelinal utters another question. "You came here to see Auri-El. Is this how you pursue your penitence?"

"...In a way." Trinimac turns away from him, staring off at the doorway out. "I came to... make my peace. Just to speak to him, say what I never got to say."

"And what might that be?" Pelinal asks.

Trinimac pauses. "I... it's not really the sort of thing you can rehearse." A boldfaced lie, he thinks, remembering all the times the uncaring world of creation played audience to his heedless cries to the heavens. "It's something that I can only do right now. Something that I have to do. In the moment, I'll know." Again, he lies.

"You're going to antagonize him?"

"Maybe." He says.

"He could kill you."

"...He could." He says.

He glances to see Pelinal stare at him, face difficult to read. In his face, he sees the both of them, dragon and scarab, disappointed in him. It's the last pair of expressions Trinimac wants to see right now. He begins to step away, content to drift to whatever ending awaits him.

"You would let go so simply?" Pelinal asks. "What of your existence? Your life?"

"I've seen what this life has to offer. Death could treat me no worse."

Pelinal sighs at this, Trinimac stops in his tracks and turns to look at him. The man's brow is furrowed, not with the disapproval of a lord, but the worry of a friend. "Anuics have such a perverse fixation on death. They look to this world and see only what they have to lose to it, blinding themselves to what could be gained..." Pelinal begins to step forward, slow and deliberate. "You do not need to think in their logic, Trinimac, your spirit is your own, it does not belong to them nor to me."

The other knight is just before him now, reaching up with his off-hand to press it against his breastplate. His formerly cold eyes become lit with a dull warmth; if not comforting, it's at least familiar.

"I do not know you like they do, but, I know what it is to be like you through them; I know how it feels to be torn in this way, to march to war against the rhythm of a ticking clock, or a beating heart, and to struggle for my own spirit." Pelinal's hand travels up to his shoulder, lifting further to brush against his cheek; Trinimac stands still, like a statue. "And I am sorry, for I know what it feels to be dragged into being- being one thing or another, or even being at all. But this world is not Auri-El's, it is scarcely Lorkhan's, because it is ours, we humble nirnbound spirits. Do not let one name rule you, do not let one moment define you, for you are so much more-" The hole in his chest glows bright red as the gem hums rhythmically behind his words, and in the same instant, pain sears across Trinimac's face.

He recoils, and Pelinal retracts his arm as his eyes go wide, frantically flitting between his hand, glowing with white light, and Trinimac, who clutches at his own face, his own off-hand glowing in response.

"Look at me!" Pelinal shouts. "See this mark of sundering! Spark from body, limb from limb, lord from tower, look and see it in yourself and in me!"

And Trinimac scowls, perplexed as he stares over at Pelinal's white hand, glancing at his own as well.

The Whitestrake outstretches his hand, which shone to illuminate the chamber. "Take it! Sunder the mark of my station, and I will yours!"

And in that moment, many things take place, winding around each other in strange sequences, though not strange for the time. In that white-lit chamber, there is a battle, an embrace, a retreat, a vengeance, but in the end, there is penitence, or at least an attempt.

White hands- an impossibility, what is and always has been but one appearing together by grace of confused time- join together, and create, for a moment, something so violent in both separation and unity. Alone, they are rent from the limbs of their wielders, together, they unmake themselves and vanish from the world forever, and the hands of Auri-El would never again find purchase within creation, only his voice. No champions such as them would ever blight the world.

In this, they collapse with relief, the tower shakes, and the string ends, or comes undone, feeding back into everything else.

#moriada #mori writing #PRESENTING: second fic about pelinal meeting some guy he has some things in common with ft. trinimac from the trinimac series #BIG shout out to kendra for helping w trinimac's characterization <3 we love you legend

28 notes · View notes

synchronmurmurs · 3 years

Text

Runalong Now

In that split second before impending doom, many survivors of close accidents claim that their perception of time slows for just an instant, letting them experience a surge of memories spanning their entire lives. Flickering images, still frames of a life past, moments of joy and grief and nostalgia all bundled into one concise moment. But for you, in that deep darkness, your car hurtling towards a building, what you see in front of you is a creature who holds within himself, the fires of hell. Wings spread wide. Eyes glowing from within a blackened void.

"Run along now."

Then comes the collision and the screeching crunch of steel.

SO HERE IS MY BELATED HALLOWEENIE ONE SHOT!!! I actually started on this months ago, plucked away at it decently consistently, and then time just kept slippin', and suddenly it was halfway into October, and I wasn't finished. 🤔💦💦 It's a concept I randomly thought of one day when I remembered how much I loved to do this as a kid ljsdhf. And I know for a fact that I'm not alone. The usual shtick is that it's a protective presence, but since I wanted to get this out for Halloween, I thought why not try and put a spooky twist on it? I've never really tried writing anything overtly spooky before, and I do have doubts that I hit the mark, but I'm happy nonetheless with how this turned out.

Because now I might have a new reader character to play around with and develop. 👀👀

Also can you tell I have a penchant for tying all my written universes together? 🤣 Virgin Blood and Devil's Pact are in the same universe, and this exists in Punchy's universe sdlkfh.

Anyway, I hope y'all had a fun and safe Halloween, and I hope you like this lil' one shot too! 🙏✨🎃

Read the full fic on AO3! 🎃

#dmc #devil may cry #dante #dante x reader

49 notes · View notes

incorrectprodigalsonquotes · 4 years

Text

A Festival of Brightness

Finally getting to one of the fic requests I was sent. Thank you to @jimhalpertcanbuymelove for sending this request in and letting me turn it into a Brightwell fic.

And an extra special thank you to @s4karuna for co-writing this with me, it was so much fun and we hope you enjoy what we wrote!

Chapter 1

Friday night dinners.

Ever since Malcolm returned to New York, every Friday night was dedicated to dinner with Ainsley and his mother. Jessica had insisted on it.

I gave birth to you both, she had said airily, though it was easy for Malcolm to hear the steel of a Milton matriarch in her voice. His FBI training was still no match for someone who could engage in psychological warfare with high society, metaphorically ripping off pearl necklaces with elegant words while on her third glass of gin.

Twenty hours of labour for Malcolm’s big head alone. Don’t I at least deserve a little of your time?

Malcolm and Ainsley weren’t exactly fans of their mandatory dinners, but neither of them could deny their mother this one thing. Besides, it wasn’t like either of them had anything better to do on a Friday night. Ainsley would either binge watch The Great British Bakeoff and bemoan her nonexistent culinary skills or stay up all night editing news footage with unfashionable raccoon eyes. And Malcolm? Frankly, it was best left unanswered.

But what started out as little more than an obligation to their mother gradually became tolerable, even enjoyable on occasion. Malcolm suspected that shared trauma might have played a hand in it, but he wasn’t going to go there. Possibly ever.

At the moment, Jessica was still chatting about the menu she had planned for their annual family Christmas dinner, waving around a forkful of seared scallops as the siblings covertly exchanged amused looks. Neither of them were paying much attention, used to their mother’s little complaints and anecdotes.

“And I would love to set up more than our usual three place setting for our little family dinners.” Jessica suddenly added, her manner nonchalant. “Maybe even set up a high chair or two by this time next year.”

Malcolm choked on his vichyssoise when he noticed his mother’s pointed look. That glint in her eyes was something he was far too familiar with. Jessica Whitly was out to get something by hook or by crook.

“W-what?” He sputtered, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. “Please tell me you don’t mean--”

“I’m just saying, I would like to hear the pitter-patter of little feet running around again.”

“Mother!” Malcolm shot a glare at Ainsley, who wasn’t even trying to hold back her laughter. “At least wait until I’m not at risk of choking on cold soup.”

“Well, I’m not getting any younger, Malcolm.” Jessica made a half wistful face. “I was honestly expecting to have grandchildren by now.”

“Mother,” Malcolm grimaced painfully, his voice still strained and sounding a little too much like a whiny five year old, “Aren’t I a little young to be thinking about that? I have all the time in the world to start a family if I wanted to.”

Jessica raised an elegant eyebrow, and Malcolm instantly knew it was futile. Once Jessica Whitly got going, there was hardly anything that could stop her from steamrolling everything in her path. It was better to wait her out.

“Well, it’s either you or Ainsley and your sister is much too wrapped up in her career for that.”

Ainsley preened smugly, sticking her tongue out at Malcolm the second Jessica looked away. Malcolm just raised an eyebrow at both of them with an exasperated huff, looking a little worn out. Jessica visibly softened, placing a loving hand on her son’s.

“Listen, I know your prospects at love have been…" She twisted her mouth as she searched for the right word, "Unlucky in the past. But as your mother, I just want to see you happy. I know many potential ladies who I’m sure would love to be acquainted with you.”

Malcolm gave a wry grin, shaking his head as he took his hand back. “No offense, but after the last time you tried to set me up, I’m better off trying to find a date on my own.”

He missed the flash of satisfaction on Jessica’s face.

“So do that.”

Malcolm did a double take, glass blue eyes wide.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Find a date.” Jessica repeated as she took a quick bite of scallop, her lipstick still pristine. “You already know I’m planning a gala for New Year’s Eve and not only would I like you to attend this year, but I want you to bring a plus one.”

“But Mother--”

“No buts, young man.”

Her voice brokered no room for discussion. Neither Malcolm or Ainsley could win against her when she took that tone.

“If you want to prove to me that you can find a date on your own, then go find one. Just so long as she’s a respectable woman,” she added in afterthought.

Malcolm sighed heavily. He could already feel a migraine building up.

“Ains, can you--”

“Sorry, Malcolm.”

Ainsley was enjoying this a little too much as she looked back and forth between her mother and brother as if she was watching a tennis match, grinning like a Chesire cat. All that was missing from this image was an extra large bowl of her favourite truffle popcorn.

“But it’s Mom’s party,” she said in mock disappointment. “If she says you should find a date for New Year’s, find a date for New Year’s.”

“Real helpful.”

Malcolm narrowed his eyes at his sister, unamused at how entertained she was. She’d probably be filming the whole thing if she could, but at least he didn’t see her phone anywhere near her.

He really didn’t need a repeat of Ainsley showing the video of him trying to serenade Sunshine while high on painkillers to Dani. Or anyone else on the team for that matter.

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

Malcolm grew listless as he sat on the edge of the table, untouched Earl Grey tea in hand as he kept dunking the teabag in over and over again. He should’ve been in front of the board completing his profile of the killer, but good old executive dysfunction was hitting him hard this time. He kept trying to focus on the case at hand, but he couldn’t stop thinking about how he was going to find a date for New Year’s Eve.

“Bright?”

Malcolm snapped his head up, suddenly dropping the tea bag string he had been playing with. Dani was cradling her own mug of Earl Grey, looking at him with bemusement as she sat down next to him.

“You okay? You’ve been pretty quiet. It’s a bit concerning considering it’s you.”

Not for the first time, Malcolm thought that Dani had great potential to be a profiler herself. It was remarkable how observant she was.

“It’s just…" he trailed off with a wry grin, "Sad little rich boy problems, mostly. It’s nothing.”

Dani wrinkled her nose in thought.

“So you’re having mommy issues?”

Malcolm nearly dropped his mug at her blunt words, but when he saw a beaming grin spread across her face with a rare spark of mischief in her eyes, he couldn’t help but let out a huff of laughter in response.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that. My mother is just…” He ran a hand down his face with a groan, “meddling in my life yet again. It can be a little grating, quite frankly.”

Dani bit her lip as her thoughts turned to her parents. “I can understand that.”

Malcolm looked at her in surprise. “You can?”

For Dani to talk about herself was rare enough as it is. He unconsciously inched to the edge of his seat in anticipation as she nodded after a sip of tea.

“Yeah, parents can be overbearing at times. And this is coming from someone who grew up with two sets of Jewish parents from different continents."

Malcolm couldn't help but chuckle as he tried to imagine what kind of people raised someone as perceptive and tenacious as Dani.

"At least in my case, I know that it’s because they have my best interests at heart.” Her face softened with nostalgia as she shot Malcolm a smile. “I’ve only met your mother a few times, but from what I've seen, she meddles because it's her way of making sure you're okay.”

Malcolm raised an eyebrow at her as he finally drank his lukewarm tea. She held up a hand in defense, a corner of her mouth curled up into an almost smile.

“Well, I never said the caring cancels out the meddling. I've never seen a WASP outrival a Jewish mother like her.”

Malcolm couldn't hold back a guffaw.

“I'm sure Mother would be flattered,” he chuckled with a shake of his head, “But I still have to figure out how I’m gonna get through Christmas dinner this time.”

Dani glanced at him as she bit her lip in thought.

“Well, this probably won’t prevent you from having to go to your dinner...”

Malcolm leaned forward in curiosity as he waited for Dani to continue.

"My mom’s having a party for the first night of Hanukkah tomorrow. Do you wanna come with me?”

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

The first word that came to mind when Malcolm thought of Dani was unflappable. She was like a pancake stuck to the griddle, nothing could shake her. And yet he could easily spot the signs. The distracting way she kept biting her lip. How she constantly fiddled with the little blue Star of David necklace nestled in the hollow of her throat. She was… anxious?

What could be making her act like that? Malcolm’s mind practically raced at the numerous possibilities.

“Hey Bright?" Dani turned to him as they hiked up to her mother's snow covered driveway, her cold hands shoved deep in the pockets of her indigo winter coat. "Listen, there’s something you should probably know before we go inside.”

He gazed at her thoughtfully after noticing the apprehensive look on her face, his curiosity rearing its head as he saw her bite her lip again.

“What is it?”

Dani hummed briefly, not sure how to explain. She hadn't exactly been forthcoming about her life outside of work for two very big reasons.

“I have kind of a big family so there's going to be a lot of people and a lot more noise. I love them, but...”

She trailed off with a chuckle as he watched her breath rise in the cold in gentle puffs, snow dotting her hair like stars.

"They’re a lot. My mom and my sisters, they're nosy and have no sense of personal space and they're going to ask a lot of uncomfortable questions. So it's okay if you need to tap out for a minute or--"

"Dani," Malcolm interjected in amusement, "you're starting to sound like me with all that rambling."

He couldn't hold back a smile. It was rare for her to get even remotely flustered. It was adorable, the way her cheeks grew dark with embarrassment and how her doe like eyes kept glancing at him to see if he was alright.

"Don't worry so much. If they're anything like you, I'm sure they're amazing."

Dani sighed with relief, her face relaxing back into a smile again. She knew he was right. He was finally going to meet her obnoxiously affectionate and offbeat family, only…

He was still missing one crucial piece of information.

"Bright…" she started, apprehension mounting higher as they approached the front porch bedecked with blue and white lights. "There's also one more thing that I haven't actually told you. And it's kind of a big thing."

She had been braced for him to turn that profiler gaze on her, for those pale, glassy eyes to stare deeper into her for what she kept locked away. But Malcolm didn’t go off in another speculative ramble or even start pointing out her odd behaviour. He simply tilted his head to the side and with those wide eyes, Dani was oddly reminded of a confused puppy.

"What is it?"

"You're not gonna try to profile me?" Dani raised an eyebrow in disbelief, not noticing the tension leaving her shoulders.

He shrugged a shoulder, his eyes slightly mournful at how guarded she had seemed just now. The details might have been a little fuzzy, but he could still remember Dani, tired and vulnerable as she opened up about her trust issues the night she babysat his high-as-a-kite self.

She didn’t need him prying into what made Dani Powell tick. Not when she wasn’t ready.

"I get the feeling that this is something really personal."

So, he was capable of turning it off. She let out a grateful smile in return.

"Well--"

"Danys Eliana Powell!" A voice called in amusement from the front porch, startling them from their peaceful little bubble. "Are you ever going to come inside?"

“Danys?” Malcolm nearly bubbled over giggling, looking at Dani with glee.

"Yes, Dani is short for Danys. Grow up, Bright."

Malcolm shook his head, his nose scrunched up and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes became more prominent.

"It's just not what I thought Dani would be short for. I was kind of expecting Danika or Danielle.”

“Thank my grandmother for that. She and my dad came here from Port au Prince back in the 70s. Dad changed the family name from Poirot and I can hear you smirking, Bright, cut it out!”

Malcolm danced out of the way, nearly doubled over with laughter before Dani could smack him so she settled for shooting him an unimpressed look.

“I’m sorry! At least now I know that detective work is in your blood. Do you have family from Liège Province or a fastidious great-great-uncle, perhaps?”

“Real mature, Bright.”

She rolled her eyes, but the way Malcolm beamed at her like sunshine during a snowstorm made him look a little younger, a little lighter hearted and Dani for all her bluster couldn’t stay mad at him.

“At least Granmè insisted on giving us traditional names--oof! Imma, I need to breathe here.”

Dani was immediately enveloped in a rib aching bear hug the second they walked up to the front door by a statuesque woman with a regal nose and wide-set blue-green eyes and Malcolm could easily spot echoes of Dani’s dark, springy curls and delicate jawline. The older woman's eyes lit up as she spotted Malcolm after finally releasing Dani from the loving embrace.

"You must be Dani's friend! I'm Zipporah."

"Bright." Dani smiled as she gestured for him to come closer. "This is my mother."

"Malcolm Bright. It's lovely to meet you,” he offered a polite smile as he held out his hand. His tremor wasn’t acting up for once and he’d never been so glad that his mother signed him up for etiquette classes as a child. “Thanks for inviting me to your home."

"Oh, none of that,” Zipporah waved him off, still beaming with excitement.

Malcolm’s eyes went wide as she swiftly pulled him into a warm, spine-crackingingly firm hug. He looked over Zipporah’s shoulder at Dani in bewilderment, getting the inkling feeling that he now had an idea about where Dani got her strength from.

“Imma, you promised you wouldn’t scare him,” Dani’s tone was scolding, but he could see her biting back her laughter. “Bright looks like he’s about to faint.”

The ridiculous situation startled a laugh out of him as he finally returned Zipporah’s hug. He couldn’t remember the last time someone other than Gil or his mother hugged him and it made him feel warm.

"Come in, come in. We're just getting started."

Zipporah released him from the mini bear hug and she pulled them inside the house, fussing over his wind bitten cheeks and Dani’s snow covered curls.

"Did I hear my little bijou come home?"

A much older woman with a beaming face walked over to them with a baby in her arms. She was short and full figured with glowing dark skin and iron grey hair woven into tiny twisting braids and her eyes were just like Dani’s, deep brown and steady, framed with thick lashes. The baby she was holding wore white footie pajamas patterned with blue Star of Davids with a blue-green headband over her coily little pixie cut that matched her bright eyes. She gave a toothless smile upon seeing them, revealing the same deep dimples as Dani.

"Baby bird is definitely happy you're here."

"Hi Granmè," Dani smiled as she kissed the older woman’s cheek. "Bright, this is my grandmother, Eliana."

Malcolm held out his hand again, surprised at how much the cheerful atmosphere was like a soothing balm to his fraying nerves. It was obvious that Dani grew up in a very loving home.

"It's an honour to meet you. I’m Malcolm Bright."

The little girl stretched her arms out to Dani with a slight squeal. Dani's smile only grew as she took the child from her grandmother and the baby was quick to snuggle in, babbling happily with her chubby cheek squished against Dani’s.

“So you’re the Malcolm Bright we’ve been hearing about.” The older woman gave Malcolm an approving once over as she shook his hand, “You’re a little different than what Dani told us about you.”

Malcolm gave Dani a look full of mischief, ignoring the odd little flutter in his stomach. He wasn’t quite ready to touch on that yet.

“You’ve told them about me?”

“Well, of course.” Dani shot back her own teasing grin. “It’s not every day a box of drugs explodes in someone’s face.”

Her grandmother practically cackled as Malcolm’s ears turned bright pink and he ducked his head sheepishly. A sweet hiccupy giggle snapped him out of his embarrassment and he turned his attention to the baby in Dani’s arms.

“So who’s this?”

“Oh, Dani didn’t tell you--?”

“Uh, Granmè,” Dani cleared her throat pointedly, “how about you get back to helping Mona and Naomie in the kitchen? I’ll show Bright to the living room before I see them.”

Eliana raised an eyebrow, but gave a knowing smirk. It was a little unnerving to see the exact same grin that Dani often shot Bright on her grandmother’s face. No wonder Gil had muttered like grandmother, like granddaughter the day he met Eliana.

“Well, alright then. Call me if you need anything.”

(~**~) (~**~) (~**~) (~**~)

“I have so many questions,” Malcolm couldn’t help but blurt out as Dani led him into the living room.

“And I’m guessing they’re all for me?”

“Most of them.”

It had been a little over six months since they started working together, but for all his years of profiling, he still had so much to learn about her. But here in her childhood home was a veritable treasure trove of precious memories in the living room alone. Pictures of her flanked by two older girls who shared Dani’s spiraling curls and golden skin, as a little girl stretching at the ballet barre in a blue star print leotard and white tights, a young dark skinned man who Malcolm assumed to be Dani’s father holding her as a baby and oh, that was unfair.

Jessica always teasingly claimed that Malcolm had been an ugly baby, saying that he looked like a bald cabbage with eyes and not in a good way. Dani had been the complete opposite with a headful of fluffy dark curls, wide doe eyes with soft cheeks and the cutest little nose. That had to be the calmest, most thoughtful expression he’d ever seen on someone that tiny and it made her look more like a doll than a baby.

“My first question,” He inhaled deeply and smiled, his skin becoming less deathly pale as the scent of simmering and frying food washed over him. “What’s that amazing smell?”

Eating had become little more than a chore for Malcolm after The Surgeon's arrest. His mother had tried to tempt him with their chef's home cooking and meals from high end restaurants, but most of it was little more than ash in his mouth. But the warm aroma of fragrant soybean oil and heady spices was starting to make his stomach grumble in anticipation.

"Judging from the sound, pomegranate braised brisket, sweet noodle kugel, kalalou djondjon, poul fri, and I think...” Dani tipped her head to the side to catch a whiff as she adjusted the little girl in her arms. “Granmè's latkes de plátano and her secret salsa de ajo.

And that's not even half of it.” She chuckled as Malcolm’s eyes went as wide as granmè’s dinner plates. “Be prepared to have a seventy-five year old Haitian lady shove multiple helpings at you.”

“Sounds delicious.” His face was as open and sincere as when he said he could trust her in the middle of a drug induced haze. “I honestly can’t remember the last time I was looking forward to a meal.”

He then noticed the baby in Dani’s arms peeking out at him, eyes wide with curiosity. She was still tiny, but he could see the beginnings of Dani’s long nose and rounded chin on her face. He inwardly marveled at the power of genetics, wondering which of Dani’s sisters the little girl belonged to.

“I never did get her name.”

He laughed as the baby let out a squeak before burying her face in Dani’s shoulder. He was oddly reminded of a baby chipmunk at her actions and it only made her even more endearing.

“It’s okay, he’s a friend,” she cooed, coaxing the little girl into lifting her head off her shoulder to get a proper look at the profiler. “This is Angeline. We named her after my great-grandmother, but we call her Annie.”

“Hello Annie.” He leaned down so he could look the baby in the eyes, the expression on his face so meltingly soft that Dani could’ve sworn he was made of marshmallow and spun sugar. “I’m Malcolm.”

Annie giggled, revealing her dimples once again. He hadn’t really been around babies other than when Ainsley was little. Ainsley had been round and cute when she wasn’t demanding attention, but Annie was all round apple cheeks, chubby arms and wide smiling eyes. She looked at everything with intent curiosity and while he hadn’t heard her talk yet, it was obvious she was a very cheerful little girl.

Annie was the cutest baby he had ever seen, he thought as he looked back up at Dani with a smile. His mother would definitely squish her cheeks if she got the chance to meet her.

“She’s adorable.”

“She is, isn’t she? She’s not a Powell for nothing.”

Dani’s smile was warm and content as she dropped a kiss on top of Annie’s curly hair, but it quickly faded when she looked back at Malcolm.

“So Bright,” she bit her lip in hesitation, “there’s something I still need to tell you.”

The second Malcolm heard this, he became laser focused. If Dani wasn’t backing down then he definitely wanted to know what she couldn’t say earlier. His spine straightened and that one little change was enough for him to look like a whole different person.

“I’m all ears.”

“Well...”

Dani trailed off as she held Annie closer, not noticing the baby trying to grab at her necklace.

“There’s a big part of my life I don’t usually tell anyone, especially with my job and all. Other than Gil and the rest of the team, Tally’s the only other person who even knows about this. I figured now would be a good time to tell you, so to speak.”

“You can trust me,” Malcolm couldn’t help but murmur, pale moon-like eyes as bright as his name intently focused on her, as earnest and sincere as he sounded that night in the dim lighting of his kitchen.

He wasn’t sure if he really deserved to know whatever it was Dani was about to tell him, but it didn’t stop the way his heart clenched at her unwavering gaze.

“You see, Annie is--” she paused, not sure how she should continue. “I’m--”

“You’re here, you’re here!”

A little head popped up from behind the sofa, revealing a tiny girl with wavy dark hair in a high ponytail. She was wearing a blue menorah sweater, yellow skirt and white tights and Malcolm thought that she wouldn’t look out of place frolicking around in a tutu. He nearly had a heart attack when the toddler leaped onto the sofa, bolting across it towards Dani.

It wasn’t until he had his arms full of lightning fast, beaming kid that he realized that he had already lunged forward, barely managing to catch the little girl before she fell flat on her face.

She giggled in Malcolm’s ear and he caught the comforting smell of coconut oil and powdered sugar as she clumsily wrapped her tiny arms around his neck, seemingly unphased by her almost accident. He finally managed to get a better look at the little girl after balancing her on his hip and he froze in shock.

“Katerina Dawn Powell, we do not go up on high places.” Dani’s tone was stern, but loving. “And don’t flash those baby browns at me, Kit...”

Because he had seen them before, the little girl’s big brown eyes, the ones that lit up her entire face and turned into charming little crescent moons as she crinkled her nose and smiled. Malcolm’s mind raced as he was bombarded with other details. The golden skin and delicate little face? The long nose, the bow-shaped mouth?

Except for the hair, she was practically a carbon copy of Dani.

“Hi Mommy!”

How could he have missed this?

#prodigal son #malcolm bright #dani powell #jessica whitly #brightwell #ainsley whitly #prodigal son fanfiction

47 notes · View notes

the-lightning-strikes-again · 4 years

Text

Review Replies for The Second Law Chapter 14

Thanks to the following awesome people for reviewing my Lotura fic, The Second Law, last chapter: LunarMagnolia, Geeeny, Rosenthorne, EllieDoll, mutedtempest, AfroditeOhki, NickyADon, Paranomrally_Normal, Krisari, TiffanyBlue, Espanholina, CherryVelvetQueen, Brynn, RogueSareth, Star-gazer, DestiniesEntwined, UltraFirelily, mintpearlvoice, graciebuns, Ecrire_Call_me_ment, MystiTrinqua, Qwennie, and Smallblaa!

You can read individual review replies below! :)

LunarMagnolia: Ahhh omg thank you so much for your very kind and extended review! Yaaas, let the princess be cared for! She needs it so much, omg. And guh, I’m so happy you enjoy the banter among the various characters! Thank you as always for your support!

Geeeny: Oh my goodness, words cannot describe how much that means to me, bless! Thank you for continuing to read and review TSL!

Rosenthorne: Thank you for your review! Yes, lots of things are in a bit of a disarray at the moment, haha—definitely a system problem in this story. XD And ahh thanks for your vote! This upcoming chapter is a little shorter, so I hope that works better for you.

EllieDoll: Ahh, thank you so much for your thoughts here. I try really hard to make an immersive experience! But yoooo valid to be suspicious of wild lurking Haggars! Yaas, Lotor and Allura both are so precious, I love them. And bwahaha omg, an “annual” mind-sex jamboree celebration, complete with banners and marketing materials. XD As always, thank you so much for your support!

Mutedtempest: Yoooo I think you got a good point about Allura protesting too much about that druid mind-meld being comparable to sex, loll. But yeah, there’s definitely a lot of tensions, and I’m hoping to grapple with those while also trying to move forward/beyond them too. So we’ll see where this next chapter takes us there, haha. Again, thank you so much for your support on this story. It really means a lot!

AfroditeOhki: “Taken by milkshakes, granola bars, and whatever mind-sex jamborees” LOLL. This comment made me giggle so much. Thank you for coming back to this story and reviewing it!

NickyADon: Oof, you bring up a really good point about maybe why Allura hurt/comfort isn’t so often seen in the archive. Although loll perhaps even this past chapter still counts as whump, since that can include a character getting sick. XD TSL has spent a lot of time focusing on Lotor’s ailments, so I definitely wanted to take an opportunity to explore Allura’s physical and mental state after so much has happened. Either way, I’m so happy you’re still enjoying this story!! I really enjoy the challenge of trying to hold in tension all of the different characters and their perceptions. And guh, yaaas, I love the generals! I’m looking forward to seeing more of them and seeing our renewed Alliance come to form! Thank you again so much!

Paranormally_Normal: Thank you, dear, for reading and reviewing! It’s not a baby, but it’s definitely in reference to something really important! This next chapter starts to unravel that mystery a little bit more. Thank you again!

Krisari: Ahhh, thank you so much for continuing to hang out in this fandom space, even though it definitely does feel a lot quieter. I’m doing what I can to make sure that Lotura fandom doesn’t die, haha. And I feel very inspired by your review! To answer your question, I do have a short reference to Allura’s struggle in the upcoming chapter. I do think, in speaking of the humanity of Team Voltron, that if Haggar hadn’t interfered, they would have likely put Lotor back in his s5 shame tube and worked out some kind of justice/trial to determine next best steps. That’s what Coran refers to in the last chapter, anyway. It seems like Haggar’s interference really heightened tensions in a big way, and that even Lotor has some blame for creating an unwinnable situation too….But yeah, haha. Lots of tensions and problems to grapple with, but also hopefully more hope than what was provided in canon! And thank you again for your reviews!

TiffanyBlue: Bless, thank you so much for that very high compliment! This story is two years old now, and I’m so humbled and appreciative that you’ve continued to return to it and provide feedback and support. It means a lot! And yaaas, oh man, the mind-share might halfway have been a plot device so I wouldn’t have to grapple with a massive retailing, but the more I got into it, the more I loved the idea that Allura and Lotor could feel each other’s emotions and the genuine character of their memories. And yaaas, Allura is a bab and deserves care too. Thank you so much for your review!

Espanholina: Ahh thank you so much for reading and reviewing! I’d love to get to the point of reconciliation and defeating that nasty witch, haha. This upcoming chapter might help to move us in that direction! As always, I appreciate your support!

CherryVelvetQueen: Yoo thank you for all of those kudos and for your review as well! I have hopes of seeing it through to its completion, so I hope this upcoming and future chapters can continue to meet your expectations for it. Thank you so much for your support!

Brynn: Words cannot describe how very thankful I am for not just your review of this past chapter but also for your reviews of all the entire story as well! This year has been quite the mind-twist between the COVID pandemic and several other disasters, but your reviews throughout March and April helped to inspire me and give me something to look forward to. So thank you again! To answer your Chapter 14 question (also yaaas I love Zethrid so much too!), I did end up doing a little scientific research into planetary atmospheres and the conditions that upset them. So I tried to integrate that as best as I could as a salute to the intelligence of Pidge and Hunk’s characters! But of course I’m no expert, haha. Regarding your Chapter 1 review, oof, it was definitely haunting for me as well to think about the chapter 1 Lotor clones after what they showed of Lotor in season 8, guh. And yaas, omg we definitely got robbed of Lotor interacting with Earth culture, but I hope to remedy that in several ways in this story! Hunk and Romelle mean a lot to me too, so I’m so happy that you enjoy what they bring to this story. They really feel like underutilized characters in a lot of ways. And thanks so much for your thoughts on how I write Lance in this story! He’s definitely a squirrely character by virtue of how he’s presented in the canon show. I really wanted him to exhibit less toxic behaviors and more supporting behaviors for his team and especially with Allura and with her interests. ALSO YAS, CATCH ME LAUGHING IN MINIMUM WAGE TOO, lol. Anyways, thank you so much for your reviews and your support! It means so much!

RogueSareth: I feel like in so many books and shows, the battle aftermath gets totally glossed over? So I really wanted to give a nod to that, because I think even the aftermath can show something important about our characters! I’m thankful you enjoyed that addition! And thank you so much for your ongoing support with this story!

Star-gazer: Thank you for your review and for continuing to read TSL!! It means a lot!

DestiniesEntwined: Wow thank you for all of your wonderful thoughts and high compliments here! I feel you, on desperately needing a break from all that high-tension battle, haha. I think this next chapter will also function as a “rest” chapter too. And ahhh, yaas, the mind share was so fun! I really do take a lot of interest in the similarities and differences between “clonetor” and “original/TSL Lotor.” I definitely want them to feel similar, but that there’s these behavior patterns that are informed by their unique experiences?? And ahhh thank you for your thoughts on chapter length as well! This next one is a little more condensed and not so long, so hopefully that better fits the amount of content you like to read at one time. Thank you again! And yes, I’m doing much better at this point—just trying to not get sick again in this COVID world, lol.

Ultrafirelily: Oh my goodness, I feel the same way! Like, why didn’t Lotor take two seconds to explain why he just assassinated Narti in front of everyone? Canon bothers me for a lot of reasons, lol, and that’s definitely one. To that point, I love the generals as well! And yeahh, I definitely feel like clonetor would have had a reason of some kind for why he did what he did. Here’s to hoping we can grapple with that a bit in this story. Thank you so much for your ongoing reviews and support, especially considering that this story is now 2 years old. It means a lot!

Mintpearlvoice: Thank you so much for reading and reviewing, dear! I appreciate it!

Graciebuns: As always, your reactions to these chapters just uplift my whole spirit! Thank you dear! I really liked the potential of Shadam, even the messy tension between them, so I hope to close the loop on that in some way. And yaaas, omg Lotura in this fic pleasantly frustrates me because I just want to smash them together in a kiss, but there’s so much tension between them as well! We definitely know they’ve got something going on per all that nsfw hand-holding and mind-sex, and TSL being jealous of VLD Lotor, though. XD And the beginning of dat “bond claim” is definitely gonna come back, haha. Thank you again for all of your reviews and support. I’m very grateful!

Ecrire_Call_me_ment: Ahh thank you for your review and for checking out this story in the midst of your Voltron nostalgia! I really love Zethrid, too. I feel like her character wasn’t really explored to the extent that I would have loved. I’m hoping to show more of her in future chapters. Thank you again~

MystiTrinqua: I’m so happy that this story could function to make your day better! And oof, yeah I really enjoy writing Pidge in this story, haha. I catch feelings a lot for these paladins, omg a;sdfa;adjlf. Anyway, thank you so much for your reviews and your support both on AO3 and on tumblr! It means a lot!

Qwennie: Thank you for reading and reviewing! I appreciate it!

Smallblaa: Oh wow, what a treat to see your name appear again! I hope you made it okay through the twitter bullying and through your schooling as well. Life can definitely be tough sometimes! And I definitely understand how current circumstances can beat a person down even more right now. I fight that a lot too. So I really appreciate you taking a chance to come back to this story and read and review it. Thank you, thank you!!

#The Second Law #Review Replies #guh thankie so much #i really appreciate it y'all #your feedback has kept me going #I can't believe this story is 2 years old now!#thank you for supporting my work!

4 notes · View notes

markoftheasphodel · 5 years

Text

The Blue Lions and the Burden of Tradition

Note: spoilers related to multiple Fire Emblem games including FE1/11, FE2/15, FE3/12, FE5, and FE8 follow.

The classic Fire Emblem plot line is the one sketched out by its first installment, Dark Dragons and the Sword of Light, all the way back in ’90. Young Prince Marth loses homeland in surprise betrayal, mopes in exile, gathers allies, retakes homeland, unites continent, defeats dragon, settles down to become virtuous ruler with love interest at his side. Then Fire Emblem Gaiden offered a counterpoint narrative in which a scrappier hero, village boy Alm, unites half a continent through military prowess before he even finds out he’s the prince, whereupon he too can defeat a big bad monster and settle down with his childhood companion/love interest as his consort. Marth restores order to The Way Things Were, But Better. Alm sweeps away a corrupt order entirely and puts something else in its place. One can be viewed as fundamentally conservative, looking back to an idealized past and trying to recreate it without the old mistakes. The other is revolutionary, but the way the revolution plays out the New Boss has an awful lot in common with the Old Boss (kings, nobles, churches). Any way you slice it the best outcome is a Just Ruler with the blessings of heaven and democracy ain’t in the cards. These two basic narratives have shaped every single installment of Fire Emblem to date. Some lean more heavily on the Marth narrative (Binding Blade), some on the Alm narrative (Path of Radiance), and others combine elements of both— Thracia 776, Sacred Stones, and Awakening all take some of Column A and some of Column B and and achieve strikingly difference outcomes.

The Blue Lions route of Three Houses offers the latest iteration of that classic Marth narrative, and it proves the deepest, richest, most nuanced look at that storyline to date even if it’s ultimately constrained by its own tropes.

Its protagonist, Prince Dimitri, is introduced as a polite and courtly young man, the image of a Fire Emblem princeling, and as Part I of Three Houses unfolds the viewer is let into just how much of a Fire Emblem Prince Dimitri is. He’s the last hope of his house and kingdom, an orphan who lost his family under traumatic circumstances, and he’s struggling to maintain his peaceful ideals in the face of his lingering trauma and suppressed rage. As Dimitri receives both character revelation and character development through Part I, he echoes not just Marth but Thracia 776’s Leif and Ephraim from Sacred Stones, and those echoes carry over strongly to Part II of this route.

Likewise, Dimitri’s fellow Blue Lions, initially just another lot of fresh-faced schoolchildren, reveal themselves to be the Three Houses iterations of some classic “archetypes” of Fire Emblem. We have the “steady” traditionalist knight in Ingrid, the more unruly “rowdy” knight in Sylvain, the sullen swordmaster in Felix, the bright-eyed archer in Ashe, the bright-eyed mage in Annette, the demure healer with the convoluted backstory in Mercedes, and the battered old retainer in Gilbert. If you expect your “Christmas Knights” and “Navarre” and “Lena” and whatnot out of a Fire Emblem game, Blue Lions offers the entire set; they’re just a little harder to detect thanks to the open class system and lack of convenient color-coding.

Where the Blue Lions breaks with three-decades-old expectations is in its handling of the resident heavy; Dedue fills a slot on the starting team usually given short shrift (see: Draug, Bors), but in terms of plot and character and— critically— personal value to Dimitri he transcends both the stale Armor Knight niche that his character design nudges him to be and the Devoted Retainer trope that’s gotten a bit weird in recent years. Some recent games presented “devotion” in ways that were kind of twisted yet the games didn’t seem to really acknowledge how off-key it all was; Three Houses takes a full dive into what Dedue’s devotion to Dimitri (and vice-versa!) can encompass, how it’s a double-edged blade that can uplift or utterly destroy. That Dedue manages this while also being saddled with the role of being The Stigmatized Other to the Blue Lions cast is nothing short of remarkable.

Your core Blue Lions party is essentially the conservative wing of the Officers’ Academy. Ingrid may be the most orthodox knight of your house, but ultimately the entire core party is royalist and traditionalist, even when the system they’re holding up has hurt them personally. Annette, Sylvain, and most especially Felix offer some degree of dissent, but ultimately all of them fall in line behind King Dimitri and his unified continent— and in supporting Dimitri, by default they support the Church of Seiros under its new archbishop. This unswerving support of the Church structure on the Blue Lions route is hardly happenstance, as the game is basically waving a flag at the audience to let them know yes, this is indeed the conservative Restorationist faction— un roi une loi une foi. Still, the inner tensions of these loyalists as they play out through supports and in-game chatter— Felix against Ingrid and Dedue and Dimitri, Annette against Gilbert, Sylvain in his asides to Byleth— provide a multifaceted critique of the very concepts of Knighthood and Faith that the franchise has been trying to pull off since at least Thracia 776, whose beats the Lions’ plot structure samples more than once.

The game takes some risks; New Mystery of the Emblem supplied Avatar Kris as a mechanism to keep Marth’s fingerless gloves from getting dirtied by the grunt work of conquering an continent; Three Houses lets Dimitri’s hands get so filthy that his knights and vassals are appalled by it. He regains his moral compass and everyone’s respect after a tragedy that is one of the clearest call-backs to Thracia 776, but in Leif’s case the shock he received was a spur for a naive youth to grow up and look at the larger picture instead of his narrow goals. In Dimitri’s case, he’s got about five years of atrocities to atone for. That said, Thracia 776 arguably had a more realistic resolution to the Lord’s character development, as endgame Leif STILL has some growing-up to do, whereas Dimitri gets markedly better after a couple of conversations despite spending five years in the abyss.

And then we get to the Childhood Friend, one of the moments of the Blue Lions route that strongly evokes Sacred Stones. On this route we learn that Dimitri and antagonist Edelgard shared a fleeting but precious bond in childhood— but whereas antagonist Lyon uses a similar bond to his repeated advantage against the Sacred Stones Lords Eirika and Ephraim, Edelgard doesn’t even make the connection between Dimitri and her own lost childhood friend until he confronts her with the memory. It’s a one-sided bond that fuels Dimitri’s rage and regrets but is essentially irrelevant to Edelgard’s ambitions. The final wordless confrontation between them finally has Edelgard use Dimitri’s nostalgia as a literal weapon against him… and he silently runs her through with his lance for it— far cry from Lyon whispering “C’mon Ephraim, smile like you used to” as he dies in Ephraim’s arms. For a series that has leaned heavily on the trope of “Friendship is Magic” in recent years, it’s interesting to have the idea of the sepia-tinted childhood memory rendered impotent— but then again, the developers were supposedly inspired by Genealogy of the Holy War and the way that events pitted sworn friends and allies against one another.

The grand scope of Genealogy may be more apparent on other routes of Three Houses, but the Blue Lions route is fundamentally more narrow in scope, with this Thracia-like focus on Dimitri’s traumas, Dimitri’s loves and losses, Dimitri’s redemption, Dimitri’s ability to spare enemies and kill former friends. This in turn hobbles the ending of the route, much as Thracia 776 was hobbled by its status as a midquel, a singular if vivid chapter in the overall saga of Jugdral. Alliance and Empire totter, everything falls into Dimitri’s lap, the church is bolstered without any significant onscreen reforms or even onscreen questions on what the hell was going on under Rhea, and everything becomes as it was, but better— one king, one law, one faith (or one major faith with ecumenical tolerance for the rest, per Seteth’s ending), and apparently some reforms for the sake of The People. Dimitri’s going to be fine, and we all just have to have faith in the rest of it.

All in all, it brings to mind that Marth’s most successful game (Mystery of the Emblem), and the GBA game that hewed most strongly to the Marth Narrative (Binding Blade) both had Bad Endings in which the real answers, the true resolution, was never achieved. The Blue Lions route feels at once like a beautiful love letter to the Marth plot-line in all its iterations, in which the elements of its predecessors are revisited to grand effect— and a Bad Ending, a dead-end, an eternity of the curtain abruptly coming down once Marth defeats Hardin or even the hollow “is that all there is” moment of Leif besting Veld. It almost feels like a rebuke to the player for choosing to spend eighty, ninety, one-hundred hours in the company of Dimitri and his traditionalists, for choosing to glory in the multi-layered nostalgia offered by the Blue Lions. Perhaps it’s simply a cue that this is the route to play first, that it’s best to be guided into Fodlan by a familiar set of faces before choosing to open the doors of perception that the Golden Deer or Black Eagles offer. Given how heavily the pre-game marketing hyped the Black Eagles, that seems a bit weird.

I suppose the only way to get answers is to play another 200+ hours of Three Houses….

#fe16 spoilers #fe16 #fodlan meta #blue lions meta #fire emblem meta #jugdral meta #archanea meta #magvel meta

77 notes · View notes

edmund-valks · 4 years

Text

A Family Reunion - Part II

(( Continued from Part I ))

Like most fortresses, the community was much less secure once you were past its outer borders. Ilandreline did little sprinting or sneaking after the encounter with Teth, instead strolling openly along the back roads and meandering paths. Half-overgrown trails wended through the trees, their gently twisting branches drooping under the weight of their black-cherry leaves. There were some early buds mixed in as well, presaging the brilliant blues and purples of spring.

What surprised her most was how good she felt. Sure, her leg was still oozing blood through the aggravated scabbing and she had more bruises than she remembered getting and it was entirely possible someone else was going to try the same thing Teth had, but the air was so… She inhaled deeply, unable to find a way to put it to words. Wet, not damp, like the morning mist; light and crisp, cool, without being bone-chilling; heavy with so many scents she remembered more than knew. The smells of wet leaves, freshly-churned black earth, distant hearthfires burning, all combined to something experienced rather than sensed. This all really is a part of me, isn't it?

When Ila realized she had reached Mother's gate, she was momentarily disoriented. Had she really just… daydreamed through half the village? Just strolling idly, lost in thought while possibly being hunted by cranky relatives? Gotta be more careful. Good advice, especially here. Stress manifested between her shoulder blades as soon as she passed into the compound, eyes trying to look everywhere at once. She wasn't exactly on bad terms with her siblings or father, but one could never be too careful, especially this close to home. Luckily none of them were in evidence, which meant no more excuses to avoid meeting with Mellura'thel. Swearing beneath her breath, Ilandreline tossed open the door to the greenhouse without knocking. "Mother, I- shit!"

She threw herself back out, then dove to one side. Time away and nostalgia hadn't dulled her reflexes: the sight of Mellura'thel Glimmerbow spinning in fury at the interruption of her concentration was still a huge sign of possibly lethal consequences. Scrambling back to her feet, Ila ran fullbore toward the house proper. She almost made it.

While she generally preferred subtle methods, such as slow-acting poisons, Mellura'thel was still a highly skilled arcanist. In situations where a poison wouldn't be reasonable, she could still ensure her ire was clear. Currently this meant Ilandreline found herself lifted off her feet by heat-leeching tendrils of magic. Wrapped around each limb, they pulled and pulled and pulled, until it felt like her joints were about to pop. And were they still pulling? She bit down hard on her lip, hoping not to scream when something finally tore.

The awful stretching stopped. "Ilandreline?" She was facing the wrong way, but she didn't have to see the look on her mother's face to know what it was when she heard her name in that tone. "There are much more pleasant ways to die than bothering me while I'm working. Surely you recognize that. I don't recall raising any simpletons."

"Sorry, Mother. I wasn't thinking." She was barely thinking now, either, unless it was about how breathing wrong might dislocate four joints at once. "Do you think you could… let me down? Walking is going to be real hard if my leg gets popped out of its socket."

The shadowy pseudopods lowered her to the ground instead of simply dropping her. A surprise, to be sure, but welcome. Ila turned, facing her mother with a sheepish smile. "Thanks. I hope I didn't ruin any of your work."

"I lost nothing but time." That wasn't a killing offense. Not by itself. "Why are you back so soon, daughter? I thought we agreed you were unlikely to return."

That was an interesting way to describe telling her daughter she didn't contribute positively to the community and therefore wasn't much use, but okay. "I wanted-" She stopped herself with a frown. "No, I need to talk to Grandmother. I thought about what you said and while I still think you're wrong, it brought up some other stuff."

The only hints at her total surprise were the raised eyebrows and two quick blinks. "I see. And you came here because…?"

"I thought it would be best to let you know I was here rather than waiting for you to find out later. Or see me and suspect I was some kind of illusory spy."

"Reasonable," Mellura'thel admitted. "Perhaps even wise. You did not travel through the Nightwood this time, did you?"

Ila shook her head.

"Why not?"

Kind of a silly question, given how things had gone last time, to her mind. "I wasn't sure my, uh, access was still valid. I'm actually pretty sure the paths no longer recognize me as part of the family. Rather than take that chance, I came the hard way, from the east."

A long silence. "I think you made the right decision, if you insist on being here at all. Did no one stop you at the barrier?"

"Tried. Ignored me when I reminded him it was up to Grandmother to decide my fate, not some prick with a bow and a grudge."

Her mother's mouth bowed downward, an expression of distaste. "The guardian claimed exemption from her rules?"

Sure did, didn't you, Teth? "Said her opinions didn't matter since he worked for Grandfather."

"And what did you say in response?"

Ila shrugged. "Not much. Kicked him into a spike pit and broke his bow."

Was that a flash of amusement in Mother's eyes? Maybe even pride? "What else?" Did you kill him, she was asking.

"Nothing." She didn't need to know Ila had taken the ritual blade binding him to the family. That was for Grandmother alone. "He was unconscious and had a wooden spike through his arm, figured that was sufficient for the time being."

"Mm. I've warned you about leaving enemies alive, daughter."

"And under normal circumstances you know I wouldn't have, but he was mostly within his rights. Besides, given the… uncertainty… around whether I'm still part of the family, I figured it was best to leave the decision to Grandmother."

Though she grimaced, Mellura'thel agreed. The family matriarch was an absolute terror to cross. Very few survived the experience. "I see. That is a… not unreasonable opinion to hold. The consequences would certainly be dire if you had done otherwise and been wrong." She paused, then took Ila's hand in hers. "I am glad you are making good decisions, daughter."

It was Ilandreline's turn to be bamboozled, staring at her mother as if she was now three-headed and shooting rainbows from her ears. That was the closest she'd ever heard Mellura'thel get to saying something like "I love you." The sensation was unnerving. “I… thanks. Um. I should… go talk to Grandmother now, right?” The thought of having to deal with parental affection was stressing her out. It would be much better to be doing something else.

“Yes, I believe so.” Perfect. She’d just be on her way then, no more awkward feelings- “I will take you there myself.”

“Buh?” It wasn’t the most eloquent statement, but it did accurately express her mental state. “Why?”

“I am your mother. She is my mother. This way there can be no question that you are under her protection -- and mine. Come now.” Mellura’thel began walking. She was halfway across the courtyard before Ila was convinced this wasn’t some elaborate joke tapping into a sense of humour her mother had never before displayed.

Hurrying to catch up, which meant a peculiar gait incorporating the mild limp from her wounded leg, Ilandreline tried to think her way through this unexpected course of events. It wasn’t easy; her mother was talking to her. “Remind me who Teth is.”

“Why?”

“Because he has volunteered his life and I would like to remember who we are planning to give to the Great Dark.”

Oh, right. That. “Um. Do you… do you remember when Von was going to be married?” Von was her oldest sister. “Her spouse-to-be was Teth’s sister.”

Peripheral vision showed Mother’s lips thinning as they pressed together. Engagements were not uncommon, but their being ended was. More often than not they were arranged by families in order to make or keep certain alliances. Even though Ila hated politics, ignoring them was a recipe for disaster.

“I remember her. Stella, yes?”

She shrugged. “That’s what Von called her. I’m sure she had a longer name, just like Teth does, but I don’t remember either of ‘em.”

“Immaterial.” Mellura’thel’s hand waved it away. “What matters is that Vondariel was right to end things. I presume this ‘Teth’ felt some residual and misplaced anger at the familial shame resultant from her decision to terminate that relationship.”

Ila laughed nervously, deeply grateful her mother was bad at recognizing certain emotions. Someone more perceptive -- namely the person they were on their way to see -- would have pulled from her the real reason behind Teth’s hatred. It was only indirectly connected to Von and Stella. Thankfully only she and Von knew the truth, and neither of them were going to share. “Yeah, that’s… that’s probably it.”

There was no further conversation, praise the Dark. They reached Grandmother’s without incident, at which point Mellura’thel held the gate open for her daughter. She even smiled, at least to the extent she ever did. Ila was sure she had to say something then, though she didn’t know what was happening. “Thanks,” she said, trying to return the smile with one of her own. “I, um, appreciate… this.”

“You are welcome, Ilandreline. Return home when you are finished here. You must tell me what Mother decides.” She closed the gate between them before Ila could respond and immediately started back the way they’d come.

It wasn’t even a request. She commanded it! Shaking her head, thoroughly puzzled, Ila turned to her Grandmother’s door. It looked harmless, but she knew very well what lurked behind that facade. “This,” she reminded herself, “is exactly why I’m here. Also possibly the worst idea I’ve ever had.”

Tasting fear when she swallowed, Ilandreline knocked on the door and waited.

***

Unlike a number of other relatives, Grandmother only made you wait if she wanted you to think about what you’d done. That Ilandreline waited for less than a minute -- the approximate time one would expect it to take for an elderly woman with aching joints to put her knitting down, extricate herself from a cushioned chair, and cross the room, muttering mild oaths about both visitors and her knees all the while -- was a good sign as things went. Unless Granny Laine was just that excited about the chance to ruin her life. The old woman did take a certain joy in making sure she never had to teach anyone the same lesson twice.

The door, simple wood by appearance and so utterly benign to the peculiar sight of her family that Ila was absolutely certain the wards were incredibly brutal in addition to subtle, opened slowly to reveal the eldest of her relatives. “My, my, my. Ilandreline! What a surprise!” she said, sounding entirely unsurprised. “Come in, my dear.”

Ila did so, trying to keep herself together despite the storm of emotions. Seeing her mother again, even lying to her, was a simple thing. Being in proximity to Grandmother? She managed to keep herself from trembling as she stepped into the small entryway. There was a fire in the hearth down the hall, in the sitting room, its light near to blinding to her unshielded eyes. The other opening from where she stood led to the kitchen. She heard nothing from that direction but was willing to bet there was a pot of tea already prepared.

When the door shut again, the soft click of its latch sent a faint shiver down her spine. You’re in it now. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she turned around.

The first thing most people noticed upon meeting Eldest Aurelaine, Voice of the Great Dark, was that she was old. Not ageless, as many of her people were, not even weathered, but like a human in the late throes of senescence. The beauty of youth, assuming she'd had it, was long gone. In its wake was a slightly hunched, wizened figure, with fiercely glowing eyes of midnight. What there was not was any sense of frailty; despite the wrinkles and sometimes sagging, sometimes too taut flesh, Aurelaine remained a figure of raw power.

Ila had no idea how old her grandmother really was, nor even if she was a blood relative. It wasn't important, so she'd never wasted any time trying to find out. Family was what they all were, in that they were united in faith and purpose. At the same time, family was no protection or deterrent. Love happened however it worked out for the involved parties, but partnering was often directed for certain purposes by the elders. Same with the occasional murder/sacrifice. (Killing in self-defense was acceptable, but always investigated; lying about it had… unpleasant results.)

"How've you been, child? Has the larger world treated you right?" The way Aurelaine asked suggested there would be consequences for Azeroth if it hadn't. Perhaps that was a little girl's belief in the most trusted person in her life. Then again, if anyone could threaten the whole planet…

Ilandreline drew back enough to look the matriarch in the eyes, not bothering to hold back her grin. "Nothing I couldn't handle. It's… a bit lonely, though. I've made a few friends, I think, and they're better behaved than most people around here, but, you know… It's not the same."

An understanding nod. "Leaving home is like that. If you stay here long enough, though, you'll remember why you left. That's why the saying goes how it does, why you can never go home again." To another viewer, the way her lips pulled back may have looked malicious; Ila saw in it amusement instead. "You're never the same person who left. That's a good thing."

Before she could stop herself, Ila blurted, “But I’m here anyway, so is it really?” Her mouth failed to close afterward, her brain having caught up too late to prevent anything. She did bring a hand up, though, politely hiding her appalled gawping behind it.

“Oh, it’s good to have you back, little Lina,” the old woman said, a low chuckle working its way up from deep in her chest. “You always bring excitement with you. Come. Sit. There’s tea and cookies next to your chair.”

“I… what? You… knew?” Of course she knew, Grandmother always knew, but…

She prodded Ila in the soft flesh below her ribs, an almost gentle poke with her rather pointed finger. “Of course I did, girl, don’t be silly. I’ve known since the last Prelude Night that you’d be coming home soon. How soon I wasn’t sure, not until that business down south.” Still laughing to herself, Aurelaine ambled by, taking her own advice by heading for the sitting room.

Ilandreline found herself struck dumb for a moment, blinking at nothing as she grappled with the difference between expectation and reality. If she’d been expected, then shouldn’t everyone have been reminded to let her in? Or was that part of some test, too? Was she being evaluated somehow? That felt more like something Mother would have come up with, but surely she’d gotten it from somewhere. Chewing her lip, she eyed Aurelaine for a moment before following.

For whatever reason, Granny Laine had always liked her. Nobody knew why, but the matriarch of their family was not someone you questioned if you enjoyed living. She was crafty, ruthless, and -- it was rumoured -- undying. As in she couldn't die, not that she was in possession of immortality. Few people were fool enough to test it and, of those who did, only Grandfather was still alive. Assuming that one considered his unnatural state of being counted as “alive”. If Granny was going to act like everything was okay, like this was a visit from her grandchild no different from any other, then… perhaps Ila could let go of some of the fear. Or perhaps the tea and cookies would take care of that for her.

Conceding to the wisdom of her elder, Ilandreline followed after. The firelight was enough to force her to squint for most of the way, but once she settled in, the light level seemed reasonable. Ah, the screen isn’t high enough for that… She frowned, thinking about the standing grate straining brightness for the eyes of the seated. No, it is high enough, but only barely for her. Anyone taller would be affected. A defense mechanism, even here. No wonder she was still alive.

The chair -- “your chair”, she’d said, granting it an unexpected level of personal relevance -- was as comfortable but smaller than she remembered. No, that wasn’t quite right. Ila was simply larger than she’d been in any of those memories. As promised, there was a delicate porcelain cup and saucer, the former full of still-steaming tea. Beside it was a small plate, simple stoneware, with an array of cookies on it. Sweets were something she rarely trusted, but here… She took one, halving it with a single bite.

For a moment she was a girl again, sharing the tiny cake she'd made with her favourite relative. She'd made it herself, from scratch, with all ingredients but the most difficult collected on her own. It hadn't been great, but Granny Laine knew how hard she'd tried. The effort deserved praise, and that she wished to share was noteworthy. Ila had gotten some very useful feedback that day, along with advice she hadn't understood at the time. She'd remembered it all the same and was glad she had.

The present returned with a dizzying crash. Setting aside the cookie for the moment, Ilandreline picked up cup and saucer, hoping she wouldn’t shake too much. It was very noticeable if you did, and an irritating sound. So far, so good. A sip, to test the flavours and show her trust. Then and only then could she let herself meet her grandmother’s eyes.

“Thank you,” she half-mumbled, not sure where to start. “For, um, all this.”

Aurelaine’s amusement was expressed via snort rather than laughter, dark eyes glittering ominously above her own cup. “Don’t thank me yet, child. This isn’t a social call, you’re here for a reason. I’m only putting you at ease so you can feel the right kind of fear later.” There was her grin, properly discomfiting. “We can do the smalltalk first, if you like, but if you’d prefer to get it out of the way now-”

“Yes, please!” The words tumbled out without her conscious participation. There was also an irritating rattling sound now. Frowning, Ila glanced furtively about, trying to place the noise. Oh. Her hands were shaking, the cup and saucer clattering against one another. The fear hadn’t left after all. Deliberately setting them aside, she curled her hands into fists, digging nails into palms to help her focus. “I… I want a place here. My place here, I mean, not one Mother or someone else would have planned for me.”

A subtle movement in lieu of a nod. “And what does that have to do with me?” She sipped her tea calmly, in what would have been a pleasant scene for a painting what with the way the firelight danced and lit her profile, providing a sort of halo around the loose bun of iron-grey hair pinned atop her head. “You said you wanted your place.”

Ila frowned, trying to get the tracks of her mind united on the single puzzle before her, how to talk to Grandmother. “I do.” She licked her lips, swallowed, exhaled. Certain little acts were soothing. Also the fingernails pressed harder against the soft flesh of her hands. Focus, focus. “What I mean is that my place in the family has to tie in with what you think of as my place, or else I’m… not really part of the family, am I?”

“Is that really what you think?”

“No,” she answered immediately, then flinched as she heard her word.

Cackling, Aurelaine placed her drink on the side table, rubbing her hands together as she hunched forward. “I appreciate the honesty. It was a good try, your explanation, the kind of thing your mother would approve of. But you’re here with me, not her, so let’s try it one more time. Why do you think your place here has anything to do with me?”

“Because you’re the only one who didn’t try to change me.” She felt the truth of the statement in her bones, though she hadn’t realized she knew it. “Mother wanted me to be like her. Father didn’t care what I did so long as I wasn’t in his way. Sandy and Von and all the rest… well. We learned to live with each other with minimal bloodshed, but I’m not sure that counts as having a place.”

Silence and raised eyebrows. The standard indicator that the question had not yet been answered.

“If I’m going to have any place here, it’s through you. Not just because you seem to think there’s something about me worth caring for, but also because you’re the only one with enough influence to make everyone else understand I do belong. I’m not a sacrifice waiting to be made, or a failure who’s going to weed herself out! This is my family, too, and I deserve to be a part of it!”

Grandmother’s smile wasn’t menacing to Ila. It was the same one more than a few relatives had seen right before their deaths, but that didn’t bother her. She associated it with the best parts of her childhood rather than the last moments of lives. This time, though, she sensed some kind of darkness to it, what she would have called a spiritual chill if she’d been more inclined to faith.

“You’re right, dear girl. On all counts. And that’s the cleverness I’ve always liked about you. You know the rules of the games, know you have to play them even if you don’t like them. You’re a survivor who knows better than to fight a system that would destroy you. But there’s more to it than that.” She leaned back finally, relaxing into the padding of her chair, fingertips curling like talons over its cushioned arms. “How long has it been since you’ve heard the voices, Lina?”

The question was so unexpected it left her at a loss for long seconds, scrambling to process and find the answer. “I… I don’t know? Other than the, um, couple times recently when I used the knife, it’s been…” She looked up at the plain ceiling, not really seeing the thick beam supports as she made referential calculations. “Since the nightmares stopped. That first year after Consecration, I think.”

“Are you sure? You stopped hearing them so long ago and haven’t heard them since?” The question had the hallmarks of a trap, but she couldn’t understand how it could be.

“I… Yes? I’m fairly sure. The nightmares and the voices were all part of the same thing, so once I learned to tune them out, I-” She stopped, teeth clicking as they came together. Trap sprung.

Soft laughter from across the room. “They’re still there, aren’t they?”

Ilandreline nodded, not trusting herself to speak, not knowing what she would say even if she did.

“And you’ve always avoided the little... perks... of your heritage ever since then, haven’t you? Because you knew that if you opened up, even a tiny bit, you’d hear them again. The dreams would come back. Isn’t that right?”

More wordless agreement.

“You’ve proven you have the will, child. Most of the others went mad, but you learned to shut them out. There aren’t many like us, you know.” Granny Laine stood then, with obvious effort, crossing the space between to put a gnarled hand beneath her granddaughter’s chin, tilting her head up to look her in the eye with uncomfortable intensity. “That’s why I gave you my knife at your Consecration, Lina. That’s why you’ve been allowed to be yourself for so long. I wanted to see where you’d go with that freedom, what you’d do with it. And it’s brought you back here, hasn’t it? Here to us, to me, asking for help to find what’s been missing from your life for so long. Your place, yes?”

There was a yawning precipice before her, Ilandreline knew. Her grandmother was almost certainly about to push her over and into it. The question was whether she would also catch her.

“If you want to know how I see you, you’ll have to spend some time here. I don’t take apprentices often. Or lightly. Ours isn’t an easy faith to administer, after all.”

“H-how long? To stay, I mean. I have friends, you know, and they’re probably going to wonder where I am if I-”

Aurelaine squeezed her jaw -- gently, but enough to stop her talking. “It won’t be all at once. Stay the week, eh? If you’re still sane at the end of it, we’ll talk about when your proper lessons will begin.”

A week. She could do a week. Probably. Ila nodded, barely shifting the surprisingly strong grip of the Eldest. “I… alright. As long as you answer my questions.”

“Of course.” Grandmother’s voice softened, lowered, until it would have easily been lost amongst the whispers Ilandreline had ceased noticing. “But you’ll regret asking them when I do.”

#warcraft rp #wow rp #fence macabre #ilandreline glimmerbow

5 notes · View notes

hirazuki · 5 years

Text

I’m going to try and summarize what bothers me about VLD from as objective a standpoint as possible. A lot of people, including myself, have already made posts pointing out specific issues, especially with regards to the messages it sends to abuse victims, so I’m not going to touch on that or any type of emotional issues here at all. I’m going to skip specifics except where needed as examples, and just talk about the nature of story telling itself. As someone who not only has used fiction for escapism, but who has studied story telling both in terms of literary analysis of novels and of religious texts, it’s a subject that I feel very strongly about.

Warning: long ass post.

Okay, a couple of disclaimers first.

One, I am a firm believer in the “don’t like, don’t read” mentality. If I don’t like something, I don’t talk about it, I just move on. Y’all have never seen a single discourse post about The Dragon Prince, right? Yup, that’s ‘cause I really didn’t like it. It goes for countless other things too. I don’t expend time and effort and energy on things I don’t like, that’s just wasteful. So, why am I harping on VLD? Because I really enjoyed it, despite a couple of what I felt were minor issues at the time, for most of its run. That’s why I -- and I imagine the same goes for many other fans -- am so bitter.

Two, I came late into the Voltron universe. I joined in a couple of days before s6 dropped, and only watched DotU as well as the other Western versions in the past couple of months. Haven’t had a chance to see the original Japanese anime yet.

Three, I’m not a shipper, in general. I don’t ship anything in VLD except Zarkon/Honerva. Romance/sexual stuff is just not my thing, I’ll take swords and explosions any day over that. So my saltiness regarding the series has nothing to do with ships.

Alright, so I think my major gripes with the series can be sorted into three categories:

1. Inconsistency of Story Type:

This is, of course, my own opinion, but through my time of consuming fiction, I think there are three types of stories:

Good vs. Evil: the most basic type of story. The good guys are good, the bad guys are bad, and everyone stays well in their lanes. Think Disney movies, typical Saturday morning cartoons -- the heroes are exemplary of good traits, the villains are one-dimensional and unrepentant, evil for the sake of being evil. There is absolutely nothing wrong with this story type imo, and there are several stories of this nature that I really do enjoy.

Grey Morality: a much more nuanced take on the concepts of good and evil, right and wrong. Due to the very nature of grey morality, there are varying degrees to which this can be implemented. Probably the most common one I’ve seen is where the heroes do some bad/questionable things, the villains/antagonists do some good things or have the right motives or are “noble” in some way; but overall, there is a sense that there are certain lines that shouldn’t be crossed, certainly by the heroes but also sometimes by the villains/antagonists too. An excellent example of this is Firefly. Another example, that puts a total twist on it by having the protagonist also be the “villain,” is Death Note -- even though the story resolves in a way that to the audience is, really, the only sustainable way possible, it still leaves neither the characters in-show nor the audience with any sense of victory. This concept is taken to the extreme by a series like Tenpou Ibun: Ayakashi Ayashi, where no one is right and no one is wrong, but at the same time everyone is right and wrong, and simply just human. There is no good and no evil, just context, circumstances, and choices.

Combination: this type of story starts with the Good vs. Evil dichotomy but, as the story progresses and the protagonist becomes more acquainted and involved with their environment, both the protagonist and the audience come to understand that the picture is actually much more complicated than that, and it evolves into Grey Morality. Bleach is a great example. We start with seeing the Hollow as evil, mindless monsters that need to be killed; we learn that they are actually human spirits that have transformed into “monsters” through pain and grief and, therefore, we pity them but also understand that it’s a mercy to put them down; we then find out that, actually, not all are mindless and they have a complicated society and culture of their own; and, eventually, come to accept them as (reluctant) allies against a bigger threat, understanding that they are creatures in their own right.

From the moment that Keith -- arguably the character within the main cast that had the most time/character development spent on him -- was revealed as being half-Galra (that is, half the “evil” race of the show), VLD promised to be that third type of story. Because there is no way that the writers would make one of their protagonists evil by default because of his blood in a kids’ show, duh, so by logical conclusion this means that that race is not all evil, after all. This was further emphasized by Lotor’s introduction to the plot -- a severe departure from his character in any previous incarnation -- and cemented by the episode, “The Legend Begins,” where we finally get to see the other side of things and the fact that not even Zarkon and Haggar were “born evil,” as well.

After the Keith reveal, we got shocked reactions from his teammates, notably and understandably Allura; got only an apology from her and not the rest for their treatment of him (which could have been better but, whatever, it was a step in the right direction, great!); and then... back to a weird strained relationship in working alongside Galra without another word on the subject.

Okay. Fine.

Then we get Lotor -- again, some of that initial resentment/treatment could be understandable to some extent, and eventually on the road towards, seemingly, genuine acceptance. Cool.

I won’t go into details about the colony episode, because that’s been done to death already, but, woah, major setback there. Back to the knee-jerk reaction of treating individuals of a race as complicit and responsible for the actions and perception of that race as perpetuated by a handful of individuals. And then -- flash forward to s8 -- we are welcoming Galra allies in our cause! Please join our Coalition! We want to help you!

Look. I’m not saying that you can’t retcon stuff; that you can’t go Good vs. Evil, develop into Grey Morality, and then reveal something and BOOM, jk, it was Good vs. Evil all along, gotcha! I’m sure that there is an author somewhere out there that has pulled that off effectively (I can’t think of any examples myself right now, but I’m sure it must exist somewhere).

I am saying that if you’re going to do that -- if you are going to pull the rug out from under everyone’s feet and sacrifice some crucial character development (and crucial characters themselves, let’s be honest) -- you better have a DAMN GOOD IN-UNIVERSE reason for doing so. And no, shock value or getting rid of a character because they were overshadowing the protags doesn’t count. Otherwise, your protagonists will look like giant jerks. Unless, of course, that’s what you’re going for, but I highly doubt that was the thinking here.

And then, we proceed to flip flop between “I knew it, the Galra are irredeemably evil, what’s wrong with these people?!” (I think Hunk -- HUNK, by far the most empathetic character -- said this at some point in s7?) and “Here, we can work together towards a brighter future” or some shit. You can’t do that. I mean you can, but you’re gonna get major backlash from your audience. Pick a fucking direction and stick with it.

For the past three seasons, it has really felt like the story line is being pulled into two different directions: 1) staying true to the original source material of Paladins = good, Galra/Drule = bad, and 2) providing the viewers with a groundbreaking, nuanced interpretation.

My dudes. You can’t have both. Trying to implement both of these approaches means having morally grey, nuanced characters operating within a narrative framework that is subject to an overarching principle of a strict Good/Evil dichotomy. Do you know how fucking hard that is to pull off effectively without diving headfirst into the pitfall of punishing your morally grey characters by default, simply because they happen to exist in a universe that cannot, by nature, support them???? I can think of only a handful of authors that have managed that and, I would argue, that the man at the top of the list only managed to be so effective and influential because what he wrote was, in essence, a mythology. Mythologies have a totally different set of concerns surrounding them. And even then, he went to great lengths, both in his works and outside of them in discussions/interviews, to note that the “evil” in his world could never have happened without it intentionally being part of the larger cosmological design, i.e. balance. I’m talking, of course, about Tolkien.

Why the fuck would you attempt to pull something like this off in a kids’ cartoon?! Avatar: The Last Airbender, since everyone loves that comparison, was defined by a black/white view that developed into a very simple grey morality, and it was this limited scope that allowed it to be presented so effectively. None of this sashaying back and forth.

Especially when this flip flopping is done for le dramatic effect/shock value, with seemingly no good in-story reason?? Of course it’s gonna fall flat.

2. Concept vs. Execution:

This is probably what drives me crazy the most about VLD.

As an idea, it was fucking brilliant -- anyone who has watched DotU, even with all the nostalgia, I imagine, can admit that it was very much a cut and dry 80s cartoon, with simple concerns; Vehicle Voltron attempted some nuances, but the Lion Voltron part of the show, which was by far the more popular part, was pretty stiff in that regard. VLD took that and introduced themes like: being biracial (Keith, Lotor, etc.), having to choose between duty and family (Krolia), having to choose between personal dreams and important relationships (Shiro), having to overcome deep-seated understandable prejudice and work with people you never thought you could come to stand for a greater cause and through that see that not everything is black and white and attain a greater understanding of the world (Allura), leaving home and learning to survive in a totally foreign environment in the worst circumstances possible (the paladins), dealing with disability, mental illness/ptsd while also dealing with issues of being in a position of leadership/power (Shiro), parental abuse (Lotor), substance abuse (Honerva and Zarkon), being a clone and coming to terms with that (Shiro/Kuron), learning to compromise and sacrifice personal integrity/morals for the betterment/survival of those you have made yourself responsible for (the paladins), and so much more than that. Lotor’s relationship with Honerva/Haggar had serious undertones of both Mother and Child symbolism, as well as Arthurian legend. The whole quintessence thing drew pointers from ancient and medieval concepts of alchemy.

The inclusion of any of these things, injected into a pretty straightforward and tame original source material like DotU, was inspired. What an absolutely fantastic take, with incredible potential.

... and it was the shoddiest, shittiest implementation and execution of any concepts that I have ever seen. Like... how? How did they manage to not be able to successfully see any of these themes to a close, and to actually offend the vast majority of their fanbase (regardless of background, age, race, sexuality, literally from all walks of life) by the way these themes were handled????

I’m sure time restraints, direction from above, etc., played a big part in it, but still. If you don’t have time to properly develop the interpersonal relationships between the core members of your main group of characters -- to the point that, say, Keith and Pidge? Hunk and Shiro? Did they ever properly, truly have any meaningful interactions? -- there’s no way you could properly handle all of this.

Don’t bite off more than you can chew.

Also? As stories are being fleshed out, they and their characters tend to take on a life of their own. The Lotor/Keith parallels? I totally believe and understand how it’s possible that it was unintentional. But when that happens, you go back and rework the rest of your plot to make sense with what you now have before you. You adjust and adapt. You don’t barrel on ahead headless and not acknowledging it, and you don’t force your characters into straitjackets just because you want to doggedly follow this one idea.

3. The Female Lead:

Let me begin by saying that I really, really wanted to like Allura, and the way she was written was one of the biggest turn offs and disappointments for me. I won’t go into specifics regarding her, as there many posts that already address the problematic nature of how she treats people of her race vs. anyone Galra, but I will just look at her character development as a whole.

Perhaps the easiest way for me to voice my frustrations here would be with a comparison. Let’s look at my favorite female protagonist of all time, Nakajima Youko, from Juuni Kokuki (aka. The Twelve Kindgoms).

Youko starts off as a very meek high school girl, from a typical modern Japanese family. Class representative, top grades, is scared of conflict and wants to live up to everyone’s expectations of her, which makes her very submissive, a total coward emotionally, mentally, and physically. She seeks to please everyone and, as a result, harms her own development by never giving any thought to her own desires and ends up bullied by everyone around her. Magic happens, shit goes down, and she is whisked away to a different world that is parallel to our own, along with two friends from school; ripped from her home, her family, with absolutely no way back. This other world has a different language, people who end up in there from our world are treated like garbage and are slaves, has a medieval level of tech/advancement, and Youko with her friends has to figure out how to survive. She finds out she is actually queen of one of the realms in this world, which makes her a target of various groups. She is betrayed by literally everyone around her, everyone she places her trust in, including the two friends that got transported to this world with her.

She goes from meek and mild to bloodthirsty and brash; lashing out at everyone around her, plotting to kill those that offer her a helping hand, becoming unreasonably suspicious and racist and way out of line. Understandably so, but the narrative doesn’t, for one moment, present this as okay. Some more stuff happens and she finally snaps out of it, comes to a couple of realizations, and has major character development. She develops the attitude that, yes, people have betrayed and hurt her, but their actions towards her and their opinion of her is none of her business. It will not stop her from acting in ways that are in line with her own morals; if people choose to betray and use her, that’s on them. She will simply do what she must, and treat everyone as an individual according to their actions. This doesn’t mean that she adopts a pushover mentality -- it just means that she loses her knee-jerk reaction, and doesn’t rush to conclusions. She becomes a badass warrior and queen, strong and just, and, frankly, one of the most well-developed female characters I have ever seen.

Do I think this is the only way to write a strong female character? Of course not. But I’m convinced this is what the writers wanted to do with Allura, this kind of progression and path, from being angry, lost, and alone to being a confident, capable, magnificent ruler. And, imo, they totally missed the mark.

I think that the writers were so focused on giving us a “strong” modern female character, and getting as far away from her DotU damsel in distress depiction as possible, that they ended up writing her as, basically, a bully. Sure, they tell us -- both through other characters’ words in the show and through interviews -- about her diplomacy, peaceful nature, leadership quality, open-mindedness, etc., but they never show it to us. In almost every key moment in the series, she has been written to be combative and suffering from tunnel-vision.

And a huge part of this is that they simply didn’t give her any room to grow. Youko’s character started off at maybe... 5% of her potential? She was honestly so “weak,” I thought about dropping the series. But by the point the anime ended (because the story itself is unfinished and unlikely to continue, unfortunately), I’d say she’s at around 70%. That makes for an extremely dramatic, fulfilling, and believable character development. The VLD writers started Allura off much higher than that. Too high. From the get-go she’s a highly accomplished martial artist, has incredible physical strength due to her Altean heritage, a seemingly natural affinity for leadership and for appealing to people, she’s very attractive, well spoken, had a loving and supportive family, is a princess, had a brilliant alchemist for a father, has access to the universe’s greatest super weapon -- I mean, yes, she’s had to deal with immense loss and grief and come to terms with it in a very short period of time, and lost her father a second time so to speak with Alfor’s AI -- but overall, everything has been set up and handed to her in a nice package. Other than overcoming her hatred towards the Galra and idealization of Altea/Alteans, really, there’s nothing left for her to do that would be defining for her character.

That’s not to say that characters that are extremely accomplished from the start are a bad thing. But in their case, their emotional and mental development and maturity is that much more important, because that’s all that’s left to work with. The writers didn’t really give Allura any significant room to grow in terms of any of that. (And no, I don’t consider her new alchemical powers from Oriande as her growing; she expended no effort for that, it wasn’t really a trial at all for her; it was like me playing a video game on casual mode with the “killallenemies” console command enabled). Her overcoming her racism towards the Galra, beginning with Keith and BoM and continuing to do so with subsequent Galra allies, had a TON of potential and I had been so excited to see where it would go; but that fell flat, totally forgotten by the story.

In contrast, you have Lotor -- we see him struggling to claw his way out of the hand that fate has dealt him, to grow beyond his family’s influence and abuse. Both on and off screen, even described by his own enemies in great detail, we see just how much he has had to fight and to earn everything he has and he is, even things that shouldn’t have to be “earned” in the first place. He’s lost Daibazaal and Altea, both his father and his mother, he’s too Galra for anyone who’s not and not nearly enough Galra for anyone who is. Literally nothing has been handed to him. The juxtaposition between him and Allura, had Allura been given more breathing room by the writers, could have been fantastic and I would have shipped the hell out of it, like I do in DotU. She’s had everything he’s ever wanted (loving family, supportive father, Alfor himself, exploration, alchemy), etc.; envy would have been extremely appropriate on his part, and very interesting to work through, but that was never explored either.

So, I feel like what ended up happening was that a huge imbalance in how these two characters came across was created, made only more evident when their relationship with each other was what was front and center. And, at least for me, this is what makes me completely unable to see Allura’s side of things, and I freely admit it -- I simply don’t understand her or her actions, because I don’t feel like I’ve been shown enough of her inner workings as a character to be able to care about her in the slightest. I can definitely see where the writers were going with her, or where they thought they were going. But unless they actually meant for the character that is, for all intents and purposes, their female lead to be a racist, abusive, immature person playing at being an adult and at being the leader of a coalition spanning galaxies, who has no problem condemning millions of lives to death and devastation at a whim of her emotions because they are Valid™, and who wades dangerously close to “Mary Sue” territory many times due the way the narrative frames her... then all I see on screen is an unfinished character. Unfinished, because the writers didn’t take any opportunities in the narrative for the flaws and issues she does have to be addressed and overcome, opportunities of which there were plenty! I absolutely don’t mind that she has flaws -- flawed heroes are amazing. But, you gotta do something about them, i.e. address them and work through them. Otherwise your heroes remain static in a plot that is evolving and that’s not a good look.

And, you know, I honestly think DotU Allura is a much stronger female character. She works for everything she gets. She works her ass off. She has to fight to not only be allowed to be part of the team and fly a lion, but even just to do everyday common things like be out in the fields or swim or whatever; forget practicing martial arts. Coran literally ties her up at one point to prevent her from participating. Nanny is a constant battle for her. Over everything, from her clothes to her manner of speaking to where she’s going. But she doesn’t stop, she doesn’t give up. And she fucks up, BIG TIME, several times, she does TONS of stupid shit. But she learns, acknowledges it, gets called out on it, tries again, and keeps on trying. DotU Allura’s biggest battles, in my mind, aren’t with Lotor or the Drule forces or Zarkon, but with her own team and those she considers family, and her struggle for the others’ acceptance of herself and her skills within the group. And for that, she is a much stronger, more solid female character than VLD Allura, despite all superficial appearances and frilly pink dresses and 80s voice acting.

Again, like I said in a previous post, I don’t conform to the view that creators owe their fans anything. Write things however the fuck you want. You want to kill Allura off, fine. Do away with Lotor too? Cool. I completely understand people who want happy endings in fiction because, it’s true, reality fucking sucks; there are several fictional works I turn to whenever real life is too much. And I would be lying if I said that I don’t crave stories where characters like Lotor are given happy endings; of course I want my favorite characters to be okay. But overall, I’m the type of person who, as long as things make for an effective, compelling narrative, I’ll be content with it, regardless of whether the ending is tragic or happy or anything in between.

So you want to kill off your morally grey character and your female lead, who is also one of the only women on the team, who is also a princess figure, who has also been completely visually redesigned in such a way that you know women of color will relate to her? That’s fine by me, go right ahead. But do so in a way that is meaningful and makes sense within the larger narrative you created, and isn’t some empty, sensationalist gesture.

And also be aware of your fanbase. This is a reboot -- that comes with certain expectations attached, as a number of the viewers will very likely be fans of the old series, watching out of curiosity, nostalgia, etc. Expectations like, the princess lives, the heroes aren’t assholes, etc. (and I’m referring to expectations from DotU and other Western iterations, rather than the original Japanese series). You don’t have to conform to these expectations -- personally, I’m a big fan of tropes being subverted -- but you need to be aware of them. You need to know the rules before you break them, and if you break them, you better break them damn well.

Imo, VLD ultimately failed to deliver on these fronts, and pretty much fell prey to what a lot of series do -- it couldn’t handle the shift from being primarily episodic in nature (i.e., each episode is self-contained, with a clear beginning, middle, and end, while operating under a distant general goal, like defeating Zarkon; so, s1 and s2) to becoming a more complex narrative unraveling a hidden agenda (s3 onwards). Kind of like how the paladins made no provisions for how they would handle things after Zarkon’s defeat, it feels like the writers didn’t really have one solid plan for how to develop past that point as well.

tl;dr: Whoever is responsible for the way VLD turned out should write a book: how to offend your entire audience in eight seasons or less.

#okay i think this is my last personal post on the matter #i think i've vented about everything that's been bugging me for the past couple of seasons #i'll still reblog and comment on things i find interesting #but i'm gonna focus my energy on constructive stuff #like plucking the hairline of lotor's wig and writing fanfic :)#talk: v

70 notes · View notes

tristan-forester · 5 years

Text

At Risk of Nostalgia

Tristan had been watching the woman outside the funhouse for several minutes before he saw his opportunity to approach her. While Dorjan was sharing a tender moment with Dun’Yazad, their companion slipped away. Beneath the dark sky and garish lights of the faire, he was a shadow in the crowd, using only enough magic to pass unnoticed, stalking towards his petite prey.

“Why don’t you go inside?” He asked quietly, leaning down to speak directly into her ear.

He got a trivial thrill out of startling people and the small Rendorei woman did not disappoint. The cone of cotton candy slipped from her grip as she gasped and turned. The seemingly human man caught the candy deftly and offered it back with a charming smile.

“Sorry, darlin’. I didn’t realize you didn’t hear me come up,” he lied through crooked lips.

“No. I didn’t,” she replied, rolling her softly glowing eyes.

“Why don’t you go inside?” He asked again, trying to keep her from retreating entirely.

Conflict colored her periwinkle complexion as she tried to decide if she really wanted to stay and talk to him. He could feel her indecision and the urge to influence her was almost too much to bear. He didn’t want her to leave. He wanted her to stay and to be his first real test.

For that to be, though, he would have to let her make the decision herself, so the results were pure.

“I loved funhouses once. Especially this one. It is spooky but not in a cheap, jumpy way,” she confessed. “But now, I don’t like mirrors.”

Her words came as a surprise to both, as he had not expected such a deep hesitation and she had not realized she needed to say it aloud. However, for as much as she needed to be heard, she was afraid of opening any further to the strange man beside her.

“Well…what if I told you, I have the power to let you see what you want to see? Would you go in then?” He asked in a quiet, sensuous tone.

Her long, plum brows pinched upward as she considered him with increased suspicion. Rendorei, better than most, knew the dangers of power offered so freely. Before she could protest or leave, though, he held up a hand and smiled with understanding.

“It is just an illusion. I thought I would offer. I know what it is to want to go back to the way things were. To feel it with every breath and wish for it with every step on a new path. I can’t claim to know your struggle precisely, but I know that if someone could offer me just a moment of my past life, even if it was an illusion, I would take it. So, since I can offer that to you, I do. No strings attached.”

Her features relaxed as her doubt deflated and her fear retreated. Her desire became a palpable air around her and it ignited another layer of lust in the veiled demon. She didn’t desire him, but that didn’t matter. As the tool of her deliverance, he could still bask in the glow of it.

“Alright, Magician, show me,” she smirked.

Tristan offered his arm, which she took only after laughing and rolling her eyes. He paid the admission fee for two, and just as they dipped through the doorway, he could hear Dun’Yazad finally realizing he was gone.

“Where is Tristan?” She asked from afar, her panic pitching only slightly when she realized he was denying any psychic contact.

He knew they would worry and that they would search for him, but he couldn’t let them interfere.

He needed this.

Because the hallways were narrow, he adjusted his contact with the woman, moving his arm to her lower back to direct her through the darkness towards the first series of mirrors. He paced their progress so that he could establish a link with her and manipulate her memories just enough to bring them to the surface. When they rounded the corner into a hall of distorted mirrors, she gasped, and he could only smile.

“Is this you? Or the mirrors?”

She broke away to approach the glass while reaching up to touch her face and hair. She turned a circle, keeping her eyes on the reflection as best she could. From where he stood, without digging deep and seeing the memories for himself, he had no way of knowing what she saw. However, he did know his influence was working.

“That’s me, and well…you, of course.”

“How? Am I different? Oh, no,” she said as she looked at her hand and laughed. “How are you doing this?”

“Magic,” Tristan chuckled. “I am just manipulating your perception. It really isn’t different than what the mirrors do. However, they distort indiscriminately. I am trying to make you smile.”

She turned and smiled at him. He could just make out the indigo hue rising beneath her skin as she blushed faintly.

“Well, thank you.”

“We aren’t done yet, my dear,” he smirked, moving to take his position with her again.

The hallways turned dark again, with electric lights flickering faintly to illuminate strange glowing drawings on the walls. The ambience of the funhouse was eerie and in the spirit of the ill-ease, the woman pressed herself more into Tristan. The contact was intoxicating, pulling a whimpering moan from him. The sound was blessedly lost in the groaning of the twisted hallway. Flash impulses to push her to the wall or implore her to abscond into the woods with him coursed through him like electrical currents created with each beat of his dark heart. Those demonic desires he contended with each day were made more demanding as she started to embrace this strange fate.

He tore himself from dangerous introspection as they passed glass cases filled with oddities from around the world. Again, the contents of the cases were just meant to further disturb the patrons of the funhouse before they entered the official hall of mirrors. It was meant to put images in their heads, things they would see out of the corner of their eyes as they moved through the glass halls. The woman beside him took only mild interest in the items, as she was now more invested in what she would see in the next room. Tristan disengaged from her, allowing her to lead the way without obstruction.

She stepped through the dark curtain, smiling brightly. However, the expression was fleeting as she was greeted with her true reflection.

“Your trick stopped working,” she frowned, turning back.

The curtain billowed slightly but when she opened it, she found Tristan was gone. She was about to step back into the hall of oddities when she heard footsteps behind her. When she turned, she saw just the passing shadow of someone retreating further into the hall of mirrors.

“Wait. Your spell…” she called as she started after him, ignoring her reflection as best she could.

No matter how fast she navigated the mirrors, she always seemed to be a few steps behind. Worse, though, was the glimpses she caught of herself. In the dim light, she saw shades and shadows closing in on her from behind and she could see her transformation into something of the Void playing out in her peripherals. If she looked directly at any mirror, she would only see herself, but the mirrors around her would laugh and shift, promising threats she could never see directly on. At one point, she was certain she had even seen a demon opening its wings as it closed in on her.

“Magician!” She called, realizing she didn’t even know the man’s name. “Help! Please.”

She ran straight into a pane of glass, and as she followed it, she started to fear that she had somehow trapped herself in a box. She felt the world closing around her, and in that claustrophobia, she felt vulnerable and afraid.

“Please hel—”

She started to call out for Tristan again, but as she did, a pair of arms closed around her from behind and she shrieked and collapsed defensively.

“Shhhh. It’s alright. I am here,” Tristan whispered into her ear, speaking her native tongue softly. “I turned back, and you were gone, but I am here.”

The tears were falling involuntarily, and each sobbing breath betrayed her as she turned to bury her face into his chest. The horrors were real. She knew they were. She also knew that she would sound ridiculous trying to explain what she saw and felt.

“It’s alright. You’re alright. I promise. I can protect you,” Tristan stated softly.

The woman looked up at him through tear stained cheeks and found he wasn’t looking at her at all. He was glancing, focused, into the mirrors. She turned to see what it was he saw now, to see if the spell was working. For a moment, less than even a single breath, she saw a different woman in the mirror.

However, when she blinked, she saw her former self clinging to Tristan. He was looking down at her now and smiling faintly.

“Magic isn’t always perfect. I am truly sorry, my dear. Shall we?”

The small nameless woman nodded and clung to him so that she would not be alone for the remainder of the hall. When the exit was finally in view, she sighed in relief and paused.

“Thank you. Although I…lost my mind for a moment, thank you for letting me see myself once more.”

“My dear,” he said softly, reaching up to brush her plum colored curls from her damp cheek. “You are beautiful as you are, and you will only be more beautiful as you finally find your way again. There is nothing more stunning than a woman in pursuit of her full potential.”

“That’s…You know I don’t even know your name,” she laughed as she blushed once more. “That is very kind of you, though.”

Tristan didn’t offer his name. He didn’t offer so much as another murmured word as he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. He drank deeply of her kiss, drawing from her soul and desire. She was receptive before he kissed her, but as he did, she melted into him and succumbed entirely. He drew on her memories and dreams, feeding, taste by taste, on little things she offered. And when he was aware of how good it was, how much he wanted more, he broke from the kiss. With his forehead pressed to hers, he gathered the reins of his control.

“Thank you for making my night something memorable,” he whispered. “Now, I should rejoin my family before they fear I have lost myself in the forest.”

She was speechless as she opened her eyes and nodded dreamily. She broke the embrace slowly and moved to the exit, looking back several times. She would feel fatigued and sleep deeply, dreaming of far more carnal outcomes, but in the morning, she would only remember the edges of his features. He would be a shadow of a memory even if his words stuck with him.

Tristan moved to the exit a moment later and opened the link to Dun’Yazad as he pressed his forehead to the cool glass beside the doorway. The two other Sayaad were drawn to him instantly, both watching the Void Elf leave with concerned looks etched on their features. It hurt to see the annoyance in Dorjan’s features as he locked eyes with him, but Tristan counted the risk he took as worth it.

It was a victory, even if it could have been a catastrophic failure.

@sayaadoftheforest for mentions

#story #interlude writing

6 notes · View notes

miraculousmidnightreviews · 6 years

Text

The Trials of Apollo #3: The Burning Maze Book Review

By Rick Riordan

5/5 stars

Summary: After waking up as a mere mortal, Apollo must navigate Zeus’ punishment as he and his demigod companion/master Meg travel to San Francisco to rescue a third oracle from the clutches of yet another Roman emperor that is not quite dead. With the help of some familiar faces and friendly nature spirits, Apollo continues to understand the hardships of the demigods and must learn the stakes are much higher than the loss of his seat on Olympus.

Apollo’s Character Development

In the previous books of the Trials of Apollo series, Apollo’s character was more of a means to an end for me. He provided a good laugh, but he wasn’t a hero. Not in the way that I was used to at least. Going into the series, I expected a Percy Jackson type or even Percy himself. Does anyone else have that problem? In every series written by Riordan, whether Greek mythology or other, I always want Percy to jump in and save the day. I live and breathe Percy Jackson, and I would totally be okay if every book just turned into another PJO novel. But alas, that cannot be.

Back to Apollo though: In fight scenes, he normally doesn’t get in on the action until the final blow must be struck or until he remembers something helpful from his years as a god. In that way, he’s sort of a looking glass for the reader; he sees and interacts with characters I care more about. It wasn’t until this book did I finally find a connection to Apollo. It takes some work and certain demigods to bring his pompous ass back to the mortal realm but it happens. Because of this shift in him, The Burning Maze becomes more than just another journey to secure another oracle. I foresee the book as a turning point in the series, one that Riordan can never go back from.

Plot Structure

Rick Riordan has a unique way of structuring his books that has become apparent to me over the years. A classic Riordan book normally includes a beginning chapter that plants the reader right in the middle of the action (and this books does not lack that) along with a few chapters to decompress, all the while learning new information that may aid the main characters in their journeys, a sprinkle of character development, and maybe a hint of a good ole plot twist. The pattern continues like this: a few chapters where action-packed battle scenes filled with heroism entice the reader, and then, as the fighting winds down, a few chapters follow as the characters gather to strategize, impart some wisdom and whatnot as the sequence replays once again.

As I’ve grown older, I’ve found it harder to remain focused while reading Riordan’s novels, which is a given considering they’re aimed at a middle grade audience. However, The Burning Maze was a delightful surprise in regards to my attention span. I couldn’t seem to put it down despite how hard I tried. Yes, it may be cliché to say that, but there is some truth in clichés. Riordan’s new novel followed, well, a plot that wasn’t predictable at all in terms of structure. The storyline felt more nuanced as not one but two major conflicts drove the characters forward. The chapters didn’t lead up to an epic Riordan-esque final battle. Without spoiling, the plot for me hastened towards two pivotal moments, each a hundred pages apart. One was completely expected and one was not.

The Side Characters! (minor spoilers in this section)

First of all, I never really cared about Meg, but this book really changed my perception of both her and Apollo. They make a strange duo, and yet it somehow works. As Meg and Apollo search for the third oracle, they find a group of nature spirits that need their help and are somehow connected to their quest. The interactions between Meg and these nature spirits as well as revelations about her past turn a once prickly character into someone more tolerable, even enjoyable. The care that both Meg and Apollo have towards each other along with their funny banter really makes their relationship more relatable.

As soon as I read the end of the preceding book, I couldn’t wait to see what our good friend Grover had been up to since the original PJO series. His role as a guide brought back some major feels, especially as he helped the mains navigate the Labyrinth. I enjoyed reading about this character again, and I’m glad he wasn’t anything more than their guide. Riordan perfectly balanced his role and appearances in the book.

Piper has grown so much as a character, and it’s really noticeable in this book. What’s interesting about The Trials of Apollo is that the series shows us characters we know and love through the perspective of a fresh face. Seeing Piper take on more responsibility and aid Apollo on a quest instead of being the demigod on the quest was extremely different but quite enjoyable. It was such a bittersweet moment for me to read about her again. For those who might have found her annoying in the HoO series, I think you may like her better as a side character. Apollo somewhat idolizes everyone because they are more capable than him and that makes them more admirable.

WOW, Piper and Jason?! Two mains from previous books in more than just a few scenes? I am truly living life here. Thanks Uncle Rick. I’ll be honest, I never liked Jason Grace. At one point, I truly despised him. He annoyed me. But now that he’s not constantly pitted against my fav Percy, I have developed a newfound respect and fondness for his character. Once again, it’s truly amazing to see these characters from my childhood grow up. They’re figuring out their lives and going to school. It made my eyes water a little at the bittersweetness of it all.

I don’t want to spoil too much but Coach, Mellie, and their kid are adorable. That is all.

Thanks for reading! We hoped you enjoyed our non-spoilery review! Come back later for the spoilery stuff, or keep reading at your own risk! Check out our other reviews here.

SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT

The Death of Jason Grace

Jason dies wtf

nothing else matters

JASON GRACE IS FUCKING DEAD

HOW CAN MY CHILDHOOD BE RUINED LIKE THIS?!

LIKE WHAT i am still shooketh how can this possible be?!

Okay I avoided writing this review for a few weeks because of Jason Grace. It honestly shocked me. At first, I didn’t know how to react. I cried a little. My childhood character, despite my past hatred for him, had been killed. Then I was furious. How could Rick Riordan do this to me? To the fandom? All we want is for our precious babies to be happy. THEY DESERVE TO BE HAPPY! And yet a hero never gets what he deserves.

After reflecting on it, I now understand the necessity of Jason’s death. Before this book, I didn’t really take this series seriously, and gurl, was that a big mistake. After reading The Hidden Oracle, I considered Apollo’s adventures as a joyride down memory lane. Oh look, over there, is that Percy in Camp Half-Blood? Leo and Calypso riding Festus? Piper and Jason living in San Fran? I loved it. The nostalgia was overwhelming and I couldn’t read them fast enough. But that soon ended with the murder of both Jason Grace and my soul. Now, the stakes are raised and I’ve learned from my mistakes. Riordan knows how to draw in the readers. I should have seen this coming, and yet, like that unforgettable drop into Tartarus, these characters and I will never be the same.

Another thing about Jason’s death: it really hurt. I just needed to reiterate that I felt physical pain in my chest while reading that scene, almost like I was the one being impaled instead of Jason. And to make it worse, Caligula didn’t just impale Jason and then leave. Oh no, Rick just had to make Caligula stab him again for good measure. Rub in the finality of his death with each jab of his golden spear. Jason was the perfect hero to die and that made everything a hundred times worse. He followed the rules. He was truly good. Which made it all the more heartbreaking when his adherence to the rules wasn’t enough to save his life.

ANOTHER thing: the fuck you mean Piper and Jason broke up? Yeah, not everyone can be Percabeth but really? I found myself shipping them more while they were separated than when they were actually dating. Damn, this book was pretty good. And Piper never had a final goodbye? AND LEO?! HE LITERALLY FLEW TO MEET THEM ONLY TO FIND JASON DEAD? I had to reread some of HoO because of this terrible nostalgia, and it just made me think: was that the last time they were all together? During the battle against Gaea? And now that will be the very last time, because Jason Grace is dead. And like I said before, there’s just no going back.

Thanks for reading! We hoped you enjoyed both our non-spoilery and spoilery reviews! Check out our other reviews here!

—Alexa

44 notes · View notes

worldticketsandhospitality · 2 years

Text

FIFA World Cup: Republic of Ireland boss Stephen Kenny lifts the anchor and sets sail into 2022

When requested was the FIFA World Cup Qualifier at homegrown to Luxembourg in March a necessity win game, Kenny answered: A must victory. Of course, the reproach of the manager was preserved after they suffered an ignominious 1-0 overthrow to the minnows one recital in 2021.

Fans from all over the world can book Football World Cup tickets from our online platform WorldWideTicketsandHospitality.com. Football World Cup fans can book Republic of Ireland Football World Cup Tickets on our website at exclusively discounted prices.

That didn’t have any positive features in it and, as it twisted out, was a must-not-miss FIFA World Cup Qualifier. Unmoving without a win in nine goes as senior manager, the burden mounted on Kenny after Gerson Rodrigues’s tremor 85th winner in a vacant Aviva Stadium.

The team lastly broke their duck with a 4-1 welcoming win over Andorra a few months far along, which wasn't without its worrying moments as the hosts took the main early in the second half. Richard Dunne, Tony Cascarino, and Paul McGrath played the role of the chief public prosecutor.

With Stephen Kenny, Cascarino thought, I just see an inkling and the idea is so picture-perfect that there is no deliberation. I don’t like that impression. You can win in many dissimilar ways but you have to aspect at who you have and how you go around it. If you know the obstruction can’t handle headers then get the sphere in the box. To know more about FIFA World Cup Tickets click here.

The criticisms on paper and aired by Cascarino, Dunne, and McGrath were all seriously doused in nostalgia when playing course one football got outcomes for the Republic of Ireland Football World Cup team. This was invention versus pragmatism; the past grappling with the future. However, it was hard to leak the conclusion that there was some football condescension at play.

How dare Stephen Kenny confusion with Irish football’s DNA and the reliable philosophies molded by the late-night Jack Charlton, Giovanni Trapattoni, and Mick McCarthy. Kenny persistently believed there was an alternative way of winning football competitions only his Republic of Ireland Football World Cup team weren’t engaging any.

While annoying to unearth a new goalkeeper and restocking the midfield and attack with a crowd of rookie internationals, Kenny displayed enough articulacy and defiance in those countless zoom calls to influence the floating voter, exclusively in the aftermath of their home harm to Luxembourg at the end of March and the retrieving of a point at home to Azerbaijan in September, that improved days lay in advance.

In one of his most fervent appeals, days after illustration with Azerbaijan, the former U21 boss said: I think there is real advancement overall, to be truthful. That’s the way I understand it. That’s the technique my staff sees it and the football coach sees it. There’s a lot of persons who don’t see it and say: That’s not your job to progress the game here, your occupation is to win the following game.

That generosity of near-sightedness doesn’t create whatever. You might weary teams that you should beat but you’ll not ever beat the teams you struggle to beat. You’re trying to figure something over a period that is perceptible, and that can be effective.

It was the kind of talk that had the League of Republic of Ireland Football World Cup team electorate in the stalls violent for more while at a similar time drowning out the sparkling disenchantment from the more exclusive seats.

For the massive majority of Republic of Ireland Football World Cup team cliques, Stephen Kenny signifies the future, a liberating renewal of the Republic of Ireland Football World Cup team after the rough, extravagant, and very much mismanaged days of the FAI further down John Delaney.

Dunne and Cascarino’s mean-spirited remarks were falling on deaf earholes. But there was also the intense recruitment drive, post-Damien Duff and Alan Kelly, that produced undoubtedly a robust decision-making team.

Anthony Barry of Chelsea was intertwining his magic on the working outfield to such a degree that provoked central defender John Egan to say: What I’ve educated from him in a week is dreamlike. And there always appeared a bit more dynamism and behavior about Dean Kiely who swapped Alan Kelly as goalkeeping coach.

Throw in the strategic tweak of playing three at the back which became the best on sale of Norwich City defender Andrew Omobamidele, the far-fetched ascension of goalkeeper Gavin Bazunu, the coming back to form of Shane Duffy, Josh Cullen’s emotionless displays in the emotion of midfield and the goal-scoring feats of Callum Robinson and the tide started to turn for the team and the director.

Of course, extended before their two courageous home draws with Serbia and Portugal in September and November, correspondingly, the FIFA World Cup qualification had stopped and burned. The view of eclipsing either the Serbs or Portuguese in Group A was possibly never realistic given Stephen Kenny’s initial point and the lack of international knowledge among many of his new customers.

Whether it was the relaxation of coronavirus limitations and the sense of liberation followers felt when frequent to games or simply the fondness Republic of Ireland Football World Cup team people grasp for the manager, not once before have the Aviva Stadium been so animated for what were successfully dead rubbers in contradiction of Serbia and Portugal.

They hunted to see evidence of a football renaissance in the country. In Gavin Bazunu, Andrew Omobamidele, Josh Cullen, Jamie McGrath, Adam Idah, Chiedozie Ogbene, and Jayson Molumby the indication is compelling sufficient heading into this dog days Nation League.

Stephen Kenny has overwhelmed more hurdles than he could always have imagined. After a faltering start of the FIFA World Cup, by the termination of 2021, it felt like the cruiser’s anchor had been hauled up and this summer's UEFA Nations League can today be approached with a while more arrogance in the Republic of Ireland Football World Cup team step.

We are offering tickets for Qatar World Cup. Football admirers can get World Cup Tickets through our trusted online ticketing marketplace. Worldwideticketsandhospitality.com is the most reliable source to book Qatar Football World Cup Hospitality tickets and FIFA World Cup Packages. Sign Up for the latest Tickets alerts.

#RepublicofIrelandFootballWorldCupTickets #FIFAWorldCupTickets #QatarFootballWorldCupTickets #FootballWorldCup2022Tickets

0 notes

conventionalstoryteller · 6 years

Text

Six of Cups

Autor’s Note: I’m supposed to post three stories for a school project, and this is the first one! I had a lot of fun writing this, and I hope you enjoy it! Please pm me if you have any suggestions/corrections/etc. Have a good day!

This was inspired by The Snow Queen, by Hans Christian Anderson. My Grandma used to read this to me and my siblings when we were little, so it always has a special place in my heart.

This is cross-posted on AO3 under the same title.

“What are you looking for?” Mrs. Heks asked. I turned to face her, tearing my eyes away from a stuffed crow. The scent of lavender hit me like a bus, making my eyes water.

“Excuse me?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Nobody comes here unless they’re looking for something.” She blew out a puff of smoke, and I wrinkled my nose as the smell mixed with her floral perfume. “Or someone.” I rolled my eyes. Her greying hair was tied in a loose braid that dangled to her waist. A quartz necklace dangled from a rusty chain around the fortune-teller’s neck, matching the crystal beads that decorated the string on her glasses. Mrs. Heks was wearing a large, floral apron with too many pockets to count. When I finally made eye contact, she was staring at me over her half-moon glasses. I stammered out a response.

“I don’t actually believe in any of...” I gestured to the pendulums dangling in the window, the purple tablecloth, and the scent diffuser humming merrily in the corner of the room.

“...This.” I finished. The fortune-teller laughed, sitting down across from me.

“Most people don’t, sweetheart.” Mrs. Heks slid a cup of tea towards me. “But you’re still here.” I shrugged, and took a long sip of mint and lemongrass.

“But I’m not here for a reading.” I flipped open my badge, being careful to cover my name. “I hear you hired someone recently. A young man, early twenties with blond hair.”

The fortune-teller froze. I imagined Tanya’s disappointed face, and a wave of guilt washed over me.

It’s not illegal to show people my badge, and I’m not forcing her to answer anything. I thought. My partner’s face didn’t change, so I pushed the image aside.

“A man matching that description has been spotted in the area named Kay Drengis. Did you hire him?” Mrs. Heks raised an eyebrow.

“Is Mr. Drengis in some sort of trouble?” she asked.

“That’s confidential.” I mutter. Mrs Heks shrugged.

“Then I don’t know Cael.”

“Kay.”

“Right.” Mrs. Heks didn’t expand, so I scanned the store.

The stuffed crow was directly across the room from me, its beady eyes following me as I moved my head back and forth. Heavy drapes covered the windows; the only light coming from old, twisted candles scattered throughout the small room. Jars of different herbs were crammed onto bookcases with books marked in a language that looked like Latin. I looked back to the other woman in the room.

Mrs. Heks was smiling as I met her gaze, blowing out another ring of smoke

“You aren’t supposed to smoke inside.” I protested weakly. The fortune-teller ignored me, humming a short tune as she pulled a deck of cards out of one of her many pockets. My heart sunk.

“Ma’am, I don’t have time for-” She shot me a glare, and I fell silent. The fortune-teller began to shuffle, and then she spoke.

“There is a lot of blue-eyed, blond young men in this town, including my son. And this isn’t the first time I’ve seen an officer in my shop.” She cut the deck into three, and gestured to the table. “Choose.”

“I’m not here for a reading.” I insisted. “I just need to know if you have seen Kay Drengis.” Mrs. Heks paused, and raised an eyebrow.

“You made an appointment. You’re still getting charged for this, so you might as well humour me.” She waved at the cards. With a sigh, I flipped a card from the first deck.

“Your first card is the Queen of Swords, upright.” The fortune-teller tapped the table in thought.

“It’s just a card.” I grumbled. “And it won’t help me find Kay.” But as I said this, I examined the picture. The painted queen looked like she was in the middle of a battle, her face frozen in a snarl. She held a white sword, snow swirling around her tense figure.

“She represents intelligence and perception. You will need both in your challenges.” Mrs. Heks pushed her glasses up her nose, a strange look in her eyes. I shivered, then drew from the second deck. Her eyes went wide.

“Ooh, this is interesting! The Hermit, reversed.” On the card stood an old woman, standing alone in an overgrown garden. She kneeled before a single rose, face buried in her hands.

“You’ve withdrawn from those who love and care about you. Maybe you haven’t noticed, or maybe you’re aware of the loneliness. Either way, you need to remember to make time for the ones you love.” I thought to my grandmother, alone in my childhood home, but I pushed the thought aside and met Mrs. Heks’ gaze. The strange look had returned.

“What?” I asked, but she shook her head and gestured to the third deck, not meeting my gaze. I hesitated, then flipped the final card.

“The Six of Cups, upright.” Mrs. Heks announced. I glanced at the painting, and my breath caught in my chest. The card featured a young girl and a boy, sitting next to a window-box full of roses. The little boy was staring out from the card, his icy blue eyes an exact match to what I remembered of Kay.

“This card represents nostalgia and naive happiness.” The fortune-teller looked at me over the frames of her glasses. “It can also signal a reunion with someone from the past.” I look back to the card, shoulders tensing. “I did the reading, now will you help me?”

“I thought I already did.” the fortune-teller grumbled. She looked me up and down.

“I sell protective charms upstairs, if you need them.”

“I think I’ll manage.” I grumbled. “Do you know where I can find Kay or not?”

After a moment’s pause, she sighed.

“Fine.” Mrs. Heks stood, and left the room. As soon as she was out of eyesight, I pulled out a wrinkled photo from beneath my badge. I sat on the left, my arm slung around Kay’s shoulders. We were both covered in dirt, a messy flower planter in front of us. My heart pounding, I picked up the Six of Cups. The boy on the card was identical to Kay. I coughed, trying to clear the lump forming in my throat as I put the photo away. Just as I lowered it, Mrs. Heks bustled back into the room.

“You know him personally, don’t you?” she asked, looking me up and down.

“What makes you say that?” I drummed my fingers on the table, and Mrs. Heks cracked a smile.

“You call him by his first name. The officers who came before you were much more formal when discussing suspects.” She took a sip from her own cup of tea. “I bet your superiors wouldn’t be happy with you using federal resources to track down a childhood playmate, would they?” I dropped my mug. Cursing under my breath, I reached down to pick up pottery shards as Mrs. Heks chuckled.

“Relax, I won’t report you.” Mrs. Heks grinned, passing me a towel. “I wouldn’t know where to start.” She slid a business card to me across the table. Once I dropped the towel onto the puddle, I looked the card over.

Dronning Law & Associates

Heidi Dronning

011-45-1364-5008

“He moved in with Ms. Dronning about eight, maybe nine years ago. He’s her foster son.” Mrs. Heks scowled at this.

“Not a fan?” I asked, dropping the last shards of mug onto the table. Mrs. Heks hesitated, then nodded.

“She’s not the easiest to get along with.” she said simply. “A bit too cold-hearted, if you ask me.” My gaze caught on the Queen of Swords. “Kay was a quiet kid, and he’s an even quieter adult. Whatever you think he did…” Mrs. Heks glared at me above her wiry glasses. “He’s a good man.”

“He’s not in trouble!” I reassured, setting the mug down. “I just need to talk to him.” The fortune-teller nodded slowly, but her eyes were still narrowed.

“How well do you know Kay?” I asked casually. Mrs. Heks shrugged.

“He used to help me unload boxes for my shop, and he used to play with my son, Liam.” She tapped the card thoughtfully. “He didn’t share my beliefs either, but he was always respectful, and willing to learn.” I nodded slowly, giving the painted Kay a final glance. After a moment’s hesitation, I flipped it facedown.

“Thanks for your help.” My voice was quieter than I expected.

“Leave the payment on the table.” Mrs. Heks ordered. I slapped a twenty on the table, and Mrs. Heks started to clear the table. As I was leaving, Mrs. Heks cleared her throat.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, little Gerda.” The fortune-teller chuckled. “Your challenges are only just beginning.” I spun to face her, my blood running cold.

“How do you know my...” My sentence trailed off. The fortune-teller was gone.

#six of cups #fiction #original work #short story #urban fantasy #wicca inspiration #assignment #wise old woman #The Snow Queen #fairy tale retelling #fairy tale #folklore #one shot #fortune telling #word count: under 10k #word count: 1000-1500 #enjoy

3 notes · View notes

whittlebaggett8 · 5 years

Text

Even new Pokémon fans will love the latest video game launches from Nintendo for the Switch, Defence Online

Insider Picks writes about products and products and services to assistance you navigate when browsing on-line. Insider Inc. gets a commission from our affiliate companions when you invest in via our hyperlinks, but our reporting and recommendations are always unbiased and objective.

caption

Nintendo’s most recent Pokémon game titles for the Switch are lovely and easy to enjoy.

source

Amazon

The Pokémon franchise has occur a extensive way considering that the ’90s. About the many years, there’ve been dozens of Pokémon video games from the much more new Pokémon Sunlight and Pokémon Moon to classics like Pokémon Pink and Pokémon Blue, which had been released way back in 1996. Now, Match Freak, the builders powering the Pokémon game titles, are participating in on that nostalgia with Pokémon: Let us Go, Pikachu! and Pokémon: Let’s Go, Eevee!, which are arguably remakes of the common Pokémon Yellow but with a number of interesting twists.

So are the new Pokémon games well worth shopping for? With new features and match mechanics, do they compromise on what is often produced the online games entertaining? I’ve been playing Pokémon: Let’s Go, Pikachu! on the Nintendo Swap for the previous number of months to locate out.

Go through much more: Why the Nintendo Switch is even now the most impressive video game console 2 yrs immediately after its release

What’s related to past games

If you’ve ever played a Pokémon video game ahead of, the initially few methods like naming your character or deciding on your gender and pores and skin tone are the exact same so points will really feel pretty common. Soon after checking out your household a little, you are going to try out to depart town only to run into Professor Oak, go back to his lab, and get your to start with Pokémon – a Pikachu in Let us Go, Pikachu! or an Eevee in Let’s Go, Eevee!. Both equally variations nevertheless really feel typically like a Pokémon recreation and you will immediately know what is likely to occur and when, but now you’ll get to see it play out on your Television in wonderfully rendered 3-D graphics.

There are slight alterations to the match that make it effortless for newbies to capture on rapid, but there are far more similiarities than there are variations. You will still combat Staff Rocket, battle gymnasium leaders, and make your way via the Elite 4. Sooner or later, you will however be in a position to capture the ultra-uncommon Mewtwo and endeavor to comprehensive your Pokédex. You are going to also get the possibility to practice and evolve the unique a few starters, so if you are a supporter of Pikachu, Charmander, and Bulbasaur, really don’t sense like they’re absent from the activity.

Seasoned gamers could come across battles a little easy nevertheless and it is not challenging to make it by the complete video game undefeated if you retain stocking up on merchandise to sustain the health and fitness of your figures. That, having said that, doesn’t necessarily just take absent from the fun. For seasoned players, the entertaining will lie in tapping into that perception of nostalgia even though new players may get pleasure from identifying the origin tale.

caption

The games are equivalent to their predecessors but with some exciting twists.

supply

Amazon

What is new

Pokémon: Let us Go, Pikachu! and Let’s Go, Eevee! are the most wonderfully developed Pokémon video games at any time. Nintendo has never ever been about wanting real looking or pushing the boundaries of what online video activity graphics can search like, but now the new cartoon-like renderings make the activity appear much better than past variations even though however retaining the attraction that early the online games, Television set displays, and movies experienced to provide.

Most likely the greatest and most significant adjust is the mechanics of essentially catching a Pokémon. In prior game titles, you would struggle wild Pokémon inside an inch of fainting prior to throwing a Pokéball to capture it. But in Let us Go, catching Pokémon is substantially additional like catching them in the cell cell phone sport Pokémon Go. With your Pleasure-Con controller, you are going to mime throwing a Pokéball at wild Pokémon to catch them rather of battling with your current figures (with the a single exception to attain some practical experience factors at the finish). You can also feed them berries so they’re a lot easier to catch or a lot more probable to give you objects, but the over-all catching approach is pretty straightforward. This is by design and style for newbie gamers. Even though seasoned Pokémon players may perhaps however get a large amount out of Let’s Go, the game is particularly constructed for those people who could not have performed a Pokémon game prior to so it tends to make sense for a simplified version.

There are other dissimilarities to activity mechanics way too. For case in point, the extra of the exact Pokémon you capture, the far more experience your characters will get and progress to larger ranges speedier. And just like in Pokémon Go, if you mail your Pokémon back again to Professor Oak, you’ll get candies that can raise their stats and raise their success when battling other people. It’s an appealing transform and a person that’s absolutely sure to be divisive between lengthy-time Pokémon players, but I in fact loved staying ready to “improve” my people that way and it will help make up for the reality that you just can’t fight wild Pokémon in the first spot.

One particular issue to notice is that if you perform Pokémon online games frequently, you are in all probability applied to taking part in them on a Nintendo 3DS. Participating in with the Switch’s Pleasure-Drawbacks can take a tiny having used to, but inside an hour, it actually felt organic and simple.

Study much more: The best Nintendo Change extras you can obtain

caption

The graphics are insanely beautiful when compared to previous Pokémon game titles.

supply

Amazon

What we didn’t like

Like I’ve pointed out previously, the recreation could be a very little easy for experienced Pokémon players. That is not to say that the match isn’t enjoyable – it is! But if you’re seeking for a critically demanding Pokémon recreation for the Change, you may be superior off waiting for Pokémon Sword and Defend.

The 2nd concern has a lot more to do with the controls. When the Nintendo Swap is docked and charging, you can only perform it with a single Pleasure-Con controller, which implies fake-throwing Pokéballs. While that can be exciting, often you just want to perform the match in handheld mode or on your Tv set. Sad to say, you can’t do that at present. That also means that you simply cannot use the Pro Controller, which I come across to be the most comfortable way to enjoy the Nintendo Switch. Nevertheless, those difficulties are barely deal-breakers.

caption

The two seasoned execs and rookies will come across the online games entertaining.

resource

Amazon

The base line

Pokémon: Let us Go, Pikachu! and Pokémon: Let us Go, Eevee! are fantastic video games for prolonged-time Pokémon followers and new players alike. The video games mix what tends to make Pokémon enjoyable with the electric power of the Nintendo Change and whilst seasoned gamers will need to get made use of to the tweaks, like the lack of Pokémon battles and different stage-up mechanics, people changes are somewhat effortless to get used to. We endorse Pokémon: Let’s Go, Pikachu! and Eevee to any gamer that may possibly be interested in the Pokémon universe.

Execs: Effortless to enjoy, lets players to re-examine common Pokémon video games, nicely-intended, nevertheless appears to be and feels like a Pokémon recreation

Disadvantages: Controller use is not adaptable, game could experience a tiny straightforward for some

Purchase the Pokémon: Let’s Go, Pikachu! on Amazon for $54.94 (initially $59.88)

Get the Pokémon: Let us Go, Eevee! on Amazon for $54.35 (at first $59.99)

The post Even new Pokémon fans will love the latest video game launches from Nintendo for the Switch, Defence Online appeared first on Defence Online.

from WordPress https://defenceonline.com/2019/03/27/even-new-pokemon-fans-will-love-the-latest-video-game-launches-from-nintendo-for-the-switch-defence-online/

#Insider Picks 2019 #Nintendo #Nintendo Switch #Pokemon #Tech Insider

0 notes