#obviously no hate to the egg arc i think it works really well and is underratted bc a lot of people just didnt pay attention to it

[servethelight]

Shit I’ve noticed during my clone wars rewatch and my interpretation (very Obi-Wan focused because he’s my favorite character lmao):

(Includes spoilers obviously)

+ I love this show to bits, but it has horrible issues with consistency. Every other episode there is a new weapon or something introduced and we’ll never see it again. This is very prevalent in especially the first seasons.

+ Obi-Wan is such a fucking enabler. Like he tells Anakin his plans are stupid at least twice during the Malevolence episodes, but then joins him on all of those. It’s literally like: “Anakin this plan is reckless and won’t work, anyways what’s my part in your plan?”

+ Rex running into that metal pipe. I forgot about that and laughed for 20 minutes straight.

+ Anakin pulls a “Are ya winning son?” on Obi-Wan about Ahsoka.

+ I once saw a post that it isn’t confirmed that Obi-Wan and Cody are friends, but you have Obi-Wan literally marveling on how competent the commander is and Cody always going the extra mile to save his general’s ass. To me that’s pretty much a friendship.

+ The Jedi are in general very gentle, but quite touchy. They might not go for hugs, but there is always someone touching someone’s shoulder or waist. And they’re just so fucking kind. I don’t think I ever noticed that as a kid, but they’re so respectful about life and culture and always helping someone. I just love them so much.

+ And I love the understanding and kindness the clones have. They’re soldiers and programmed to kill, but they’re also good people in most cases. I just wanna hug most of them.

+ My mother told me I cried as a child during the episodes with the Zillo beast. Well, I didn’t cry again, but I’m still so fucking mad at Palpatine for putting that poor creature in that position. If he just had listened to Mace Windu (more of the characters should actually, just saying) that poor animal wouldn’t have killed people and found its end like that.

+ Mortis is quite hated by the fandom but for me it’s a defining showcase of Obi-Wan’s, Anakin’s and Ahsoka’s relationship. I’ve seen people in the fandom saying that Anakin would’ve turned out differently if Obi-Wan would’ve told him he’s proud and took care of his feelings. This episodes literally show that he does exactly that and Anakin still doesn’t give a shit.

+ Anakin tells the son in his dream, that he’ll never come to the dark side willingly. Only to walk over to the literal manifestation of the dark side like 10 minutes later to save Ashoka. I came to the conclusion that the only way to tempt him was by promising to save his loved ones. I still think it was a really awful and greedy thing to become Vader for that, but I must admit it’s a noble character trait to put others first.

+ Kit Fisto doesn’t have nipples. Therefore I’ve concluded he’s isn’t a mammal and hatched from an egg like Nemo the clownfish. (And no, that isn’t a animation thing, Rex does have nipples when his shirt is off).

+ The discussion with my gf about Kit Fisto nipples and Star Wars biology also touched the topic of “how does Maul use the bathroom”. My conclusion is: he has a stoma, because the lower abdomen, where that would be, is always covered.

+ Hardcase mentions he is hyperactive. I now see him as my favorite ADHD clone, because having ADHD myself I can fucking relate.

+ I forgot Waxer died on Umbara and bawled my eyes out. Waxer is one my favorite clones and when he cried while dying I just couldn’t take it.

+ My friend spent the entire Umbara arc just simping for the clones (mostly Jesse), while I was suffering. So maybe they look hot or something for people attracted to men in this episodes.

+ In the episode after the Umbara the duo usually consisting of Waxer and Boil is sent out, but this time it’s just Boil and I was about to bawl again.

+ For being called “the negotiator” Obi-Wan gets his ass beat quite a lot after his “negotiations” (aggressive flirting).

+ While I’ll never forgive Obi-Wan for doing that Raako Hardeen shit, I nearly pissed myself when the Ziro the Hutt’s ex gf is flirting with not one but two women there. Like I didn’t expect her to be the fucking gay rep in clone wars.

+ I’m seriously never forgiving Obi-Wan for that. I can’t get over Ahsoka’s tear filled eyes while she’s holding his corpse. Also she doesn’t seem angry like Anakin just massively sad and disappointed after it is revealed that he’s still alive. Personally I believe she’s starting to doubt the order here.

+ Point three on hating on my favorite character for that shit, I feel like Anakin becomes quieter and less playful after that disaster.

+ Maul is me. He’s obsessed with Obi-Wan and mentions that he has massive problems what is going on inside his head. As a mentally ill person, that makes me feel really seen lmao.

+ The underwater episodes and the ones with Ventress on that train were just the most beautiful worlds I’ve ever seen. Like the planets in general are so beautifully designed in clone wars, I’m so in love.

+ Motherfucking “I said fuck the council and became a child soldier for a rebellion at 13” Obi-Wan Kenobi seems very reluctant on doing it again. There are two entire arcs of him disagreeing on helping rebels. First I didn’t understand, because like dude you literally did this before, but since he talks about his worries about bringing the separatists in or worsen the situation, I think the poor man is just a little bit traumatized.

+ After the events of Onderon I’m pretty sure Ashoka is already filled with doubts about the order, the republic and the war. I also feel like she’s feeling massively led down by Obi-Wan again, which broke my heart because I love their relationship.

+ I just realized he fails Ahsoka a third time, when she is captured by Hondo and Obi-Wan is supposed to help her. Instead he gets attacked by Grievous and is forced to postpone the helping them until they help themselves. I mean it’s not his fault but in Ahsoka’s place that wouldn’t feel good to me.

+ This particular fight with Grievous ignited my love for Obi-Wan again. Before he attacks Grievous he helps an injured clone and when he goes into the fight, Grievous directly kills a clone. Instead of his usual witty remarks, he just goes: “you’re gonna regret that” and jumps Grievous. He just loves his clones as much as I do.

+ One of the most beautiful shots in the entire series for me is in the episode before the droids find Gregor. This WAC droid looks into the desert and it reflects in his eye. Because of the cracks in the desert ground it looks almost like a retina. Beautiful metaphor of combining something artificial and metallic with an organic and almost human part. This was such a fucking raw shot for me, it took my breath away.

+ Tarkin is an asshole, but he’s climbed the asshole latter so hard after he has been mean to Plo Koon.

+ Shotout to Obi-Wan for convincing the order to let Anakin go after Ahsoka. Additionally the whole time he acts in her support only to be shut down by the council. I didn’t remember him doing that so I was surprised.

+ Fives tells the plot with the inhibitor chips to a cab driver. Do you think the cap driver ever thinks back after the war and is like: “Fuuuuuuck”?

+ I kid you not, the clone bar has gender neutral bathrooms (and no, it’s not bc the clones are all male, in the bar are also women). The bathroom are just decided by humans, hutts and a third species I cannot quite recognize.

+ I forgot Teckla gets shot, NOOOOOOO

+ I always say clone wars anakin is better, but Jesus stop acting like a jealous bitch. Padmè deserves an award for putting up with his bullshit. Obi-Wan too. He even tries to give him reassurance by telling him that feelings are not forbidden and Anakin just bitches at him.

+ Obi-Wan casually passing on babysitting duty for Jar Jar fucking killed me (and yes, taking care of Jar Jar is babysitting duty).

+ Never in a million years I would have thought to see Jar Jar admitting to fucking this queen, but here we have him saying he was making love to her last night. Imma set myself on fire and I believe Windu will join me.

+ You could also call the clone wars the exposition wars. Every episode has their one minute exposition in the beginning, but I feel like a lot of the dialogue is used for exposition.

+ Obi-Wan doesn’t learn shit. That man got drugged by Hondo, but yet still accepts drinks from the Pykes. MY BROTHER IN CHRIST PLEASE DONT

+ I AN GOING TO SCREAM. You have been informed that the Clones have a behavior influencing chip in their brains and then you find out Dooku was behind the creation of the clones and no one connects the fucking dots. I love the Jedi, but goddamn are you all dense.

+ Do you think Hunter thought Rex was screwing his general? Because their conversation sounded kinda suggestive and then they trail off to do something secret.

+ Ahsoka going “my older brother thought me”after kicking a guy where it hurts most. I now imagine Anakin going to Ahsoka as soon she got to be his padawan: “Listen up Snips, if you ever facing a creepy guy, you kick them right there”

+ When the sisters make their escape I don’t get why they don’t let Ahsoka fly. She’s clearly the more capable pilot.

+ Controversial opinion: I have a strong dislike for Bo Katan. She’s a fucking terrorist who doesn’t betray the deathwatch when they murder an entire innocent village, no but when there’s Maul trying to take their authority. Says a lot about her character if you ask me.

+ I mcfucking cried when the clones painted their helmets according to Ahsoka’s face markings and my flatmates gf came in and asked me if everything’s alright. I am fucking embarrassing I have seen this scene three times already but I still bawl like a baby.

+ Also my dear Obi-Wan can you quit being an ass? A “hello Ahsoka, nice to see you” wouldn’t have killed you.

+ Through the whole show most of the characters seemed to appear increasingly tired towards the end. Especially Obi-Wan and Ahsoka, but other characters aswell. The only one who seems to stay energized is Anakin. He becomes more serious but I feel like he’s the only one at the end that is still going into battles with full energy. It almost felt like he’s especially thriving in a war scenario which is incredibly sad.

+ The beauty of that last scene with Vader is truly unparalleled. I don’t ever think a tv show can recreate that.

+ I still love this show to bits and I cried 5 times total during that rewatch, shit this was nice.

#star wars #the clone wars #clone troopers #jedi #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #clone trooper waxer #clone trooper boil #padme amidala #captain rex #mace windu #bo katan kryze #commander cody #darth maul #clone trooper jesse #clone force 99 #kit fisto #clone trooper hardcase #plo koon #hondo ohnaka #jar jar binks #headcanon #theory #rewatch #analysis #kinda #i wish #me talking out of my ass

[symphonyofmalice]

Reflections on the show

So it's been a week since I finished Season 1, and I've had some time to reflect on it, read/watch other people's reactions, and gather my thoughts.

Actors great, characters inconsistent I want to say that all the actors were well-cast for the show. They did excellent work bringing the scripts to life. The trouble was, the writing sometimes had them playing wildly different characters. Sam Reid makes an excellent Lestat, when the script let's him play Lestat. Louis is sometimes philosophical, detached, and refined. Sometimes he's coarse, direct and irreverent. Yes, characters can change and no one is just one thing. But there was no clear arc, they seemed to flip-flop episode to episode. Lestat is sometimes recognizable as his impulsive, needy, theater-kid self, and sometimes he's a cold, calculating chessmaster. I want to be clear I do not expect the characters to be good people. These are vampires, and I expect them to act monstrously. But with book Louis, I have a basic idea how he might react to different situations- when he might be passive, when he might snap and act out, what might upset him and what he doesn't care about. This Louis? No idea. He's fine with eating humans until he isn't six years later, he'll delight without any hesitation in murdering people who made racist remarks, but is too squeamish to enact his own plan (because it's his now) to kill evildoers, in the modern day he no longer kills but gives the 'alpha predators' speech.

What did y'all do to the family dynamic In my initial reviews, I noted the 4th episode was the first that really felt like the Louis-Lestat-Claudia dynamic I expected. And I think it's because it's the only episode that didn't decide that Lestat just hates Claudia from the very beginning. All the other episodes lean hard into the idea that Lestat never wanted to make Claudia at all, is constantly happy when she leaves/trying to drive her away, wouldn't want her back if not for Louis, and is barely tolerating her very existence for Louis, and would hurt/kill her if he could. Now, in the books, their relationship obviously sours- she kills him, after all. But they do have a genuine love and respect, and it is in the hope of repairing the decaying relationship and 'making peace' that Lestat accepts her gift of poisoned blood.

Pick a lane/Easter eggs are not adaptation points I think a big reason the characters flip-flop around so much is that the show is trying to tell two stories. One is the story of a Jazz-age queer Black man discovering vampirism as a possible escape from the restraints of society. One is Anne Rice's Interview with the Vampire, with it's plot beats of Louis, Lestat and Caludia. And since the first is pretty different from the second, anytime the show has to switch tracks, it introduces sharp turns and inconsistencies. The crew promised easter eggs for book fans and sometimes it seems like easter eggs are all there is. "Look, Lestat said Savage Garden! He mentioned his mastiff! Nicolas name drop!" which ended up feeling almost distracting. A metaphor for adaptations:

The original books: A black forest cake. Rich and dark and bittersweet. A classic that is iconic and famous, though definitely not for everyone.

The 1994 movie: A black forest cupcake. A little condensed, a little different. Smaller in size, so it's not the full experience. But in flavor and structure, it's a pretty close match for the original.

The musical: A black forest cocktail. Structurally, this is a very different experience. If you don't like cocktails/alcohol in general, than you probably don't want your cake in cocktail form. But if you do, then it's pretty decent! There's a clear attempt to get the essence of the taste across, and for some people (like me) it can be a wonderful way to immerse oneself in the same flavors in a different way.

QOTD movie: Cherry cheesecake that's gone bad/old. First of all this isn't even close to the original, and second of all you cared about it so little that it's gone sour and even people who might like cheesecake probably don't want this.

The show: Black forest (brand) gummy bears. This is clearly just a different thing. It can be really good as it's own thing! No having the brand-name black forest does not make it the same. No, it doesn't particularly help that some of the gummy bears are cherry flavored and black forest cake also has cherries. No it would not help to dip the gummy bears in dark chocolate.

Let's not "secret good fourth Sherlock episode" ourselves I've seen some theories that the discrepancies in Season 1 are deliberate, due to unreliable narrators, or Armand's mental influence. The trailers for season 2 so far certainly seem to lean into that, with the repeated memory theming. It's possible they'll pull something off with this. But I'm also hesitant to accept it as a blanket excuse. Even if they do retcon some of these details later...why? How is that any better than an "it was all a dream" excuse? Why should I, as a viewer, remain emotionally invested in the show if, at any moment, I could be told none of that happened? Twists and reveals can be good, but they can't be everything. 'Don't worry, season 2 will explain season 1' is not very promising for season 1 as a story.

Concerns about Season 2 I'm going to watch season 2. I have to, the same way I watched the QOTD movie knowing I'd dislike it. I'm curious to see what they do, and if nothing else, I might get some Nicolas images out of it. From what I've seen of Joseph Potter, I believe he can act Nicolas very well...if the script lets him. I'm also concerned about escalation. Everything in blood and violence was dialed up to 11. In the books, Lestat hits Louis (when Louis interrupts his feeding on Freniere) in the show, it's an extended beating. He punches through the priest's brains, and drops Louis out of the sky. In discussion with someone, I described this as "Lestat acting like Armand" since that kind of roof-dropping is literally a thing Armand does. And if they keep Armand's role as the 'villain' of IWTV/TVL, I'm concerned to what levels of extremity they'll have to push him in comparison.

#ooc #Vyt watches AMC #amc iwtv #amc interview with the vampire

[warsofasoiaf]

Thanks for the response. To clarify, I didn't mean that Rhaegar actually knew what he was doing, obviously he was very misguided and had no idea what a mess he was making of things. I only wanted to know if you thought Dany could have hatched the dragons etc. without the rebellion happening. Again, very difficult to guess about prophecy but I was just curious if you thought there was another way the prophecy could be fulfilled, or if things had to go the way they did to end up with the dragons.

I think so. As I see it, you only need two things: dragon eggs and the magic oomph that restores them from fossilization. Dragonstone itself has plenty of places where a fossilized dragon's egg might be found, the Targ 300th anniversary of their reign is coming up (a perfect time for gifts) and the magic Chosen One thing takes care of the later. Dany herself wasn't consciously performing a "wake the dragon from stone" moment, so it's clear that knowledge about the prophecy is no impediment.

If I may be permitted to hijack this line of questioning; this is one of those things I really hate about Chosen Ones. Accident and circumstance can derail an entire Chosen One arc, and that means the entire universe rests on cosmic coincidence versus destruction. If Dany starves in the red waste, then maybe Westeros is doomed. If Jon Snow gets himself ganked by a wildling, then maybe Westeros is doomed. The author needs to use coincidence to preserve the characters (such as Dany finding Vaes Tolorro, which is quite clumsy that the desert wouldn't claim a city without properly maintained irrigation practices), which can make the seams show on the storytelling. It happens a few times in GRRM's works, not just with Chosen Ones, such as Catelyn and Tyrion meeting at the Inn at the Crossroads instead of further north, but it hamstrings the writing and forces the author to create conflicts so engaging that the reader doesn't think that "well, there's no way that the protagonist will lose this conflict." You can mitigate it, but it does put additional pressure on the writer.

Thanks for the question, Jaws.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King

#writing #what if

[pinecoats]

i think the way hermitcraft formats storylines works functionally better than the way the dsmp does it.

the way wilbur was talking about it when he was the main writer is similar to how hermitcraft runs in that u need to give ppl causes to fight for or like a big world changing issue and then ppl try to tackle it in different ways is just, format wise, the easiest way to collectively tell stories and also easy and interesting to consume.

and it works bc everyone's doing something different, so if u wanna get the whole story u should really watch multiple perspectives, but u dont have to bc everyone's individual storylines are all unified by the Thing thats happening and they're complete on their own.

whereas if you look at the dsmp now, it's just individual characters telling their own stories that can and do contradict each other, and there's no single Unifying Server Wide event.

like the closest thing recently was the egg plot and ppl got to pick sides and play that out and that worked

but with like las nevadas unless u have specifically coordinated with quackity theres like nothing interesting you can really Do or anything to really work with that isn't just entirely separate.

with hermitcraft like "oh no! the shopping district's getting taken over by mycelium! what is my character gonna do about it!" and then you go from there Works on an individual character level and it works on a content level because the story is structured around how individuals react to the big events that are happening, so people tune into the characters and creators they care about.

with the dsmp uve got "hmm everyone split off to make their own countries bc the one big country's gone now what does my character do now and why is it not just live happy and content in my new country that has nothing happening in it." and it's kind of stagnant. there are obviously people who wanna watch the 10th grinding or building stream and there is value in that but it doesn't really move the overall story forward.

i think at its core, the dsmp needs a dm bc it just feels disorganized and from what ive heard from content creators talking about lore and trying to plan it it just is disorganized. unless things change massively or someone steps up snd goes Im Dming Now Organize Your Plots With Me its gonna stay that way and the dsmp will keep kind of fizzling into relative obscurity

like hermitcraft's gotta good thing going with like total resets every now and then once plot points have wrapped up and ppl are ready to move on, but i think the dsmp is to tied to its own history to dare to pull a complete reset.

anyway thats my backburner essay for today. please forward your comments, complaints, and declarations of war to my inbox or the notes

#dsmp critical #dsmp analysis #hc analysis #dsmp #hermitcraft #i really like the dsmp or at least i used to and its just kind of frustrsting watching it be kind of disorganized #especially when i know for a fact that things in this kind of medium CAN and HAVE worked in the past #and especially especially when that thing is the dsmp #obviously no hate to the egg arc i think it works really well and is underratted bc a lot of people just didnt pay attention to it #but now that its Largely over the creeping feeling of directionlessness has kind of overtaken the story for me #hermitcraft just feels like more of a complete story and is just entirely less frustrating to watch #cedar posting #teddy talks

[hamphobicbasil]

Could u elaborate about the dsmp story being bad? Not a rabid/brain dead fan, just genuinely curious and I enjoy reading people's rants lolol

oh you dont know the floodgates you just opened

a few things:

1. despite not liking the creators of the dsmp anymore, I don't actually hate most of them. [the ones that are particularly unsavory fall outside of this of course] so all that I'm saying i truly mean in a critical sense towards the story, its also just all purely my opinion as someone who enjoys fictional and fantasy stories and who like criticizing works to see what it does well and what it doesn't do well

2. for clarification I'm going to use the c![name] to indicate when I'm talking about the characters. Don't get me wrong, I think its annoying too but its the only way I'm gonna be able to write this thing without getting something across the wrong way yknow?

3. I stopped watching the streams after November 16th, [save for one Techno one but I closed out after a particularly bad story beat lol] and so all information coming afterward is all second hand from either me seeing people on twt talk abt it or people dming me. All i really know is up to dream's imprisonment and some stuff past that.

4. This is mostly aimed towards the "main" story, so stuff abt the badlands, eggpire, and whatnot are briefly mentioned.

anyways uh, i'll try to be brief but also include enough information to get why i feel the way i do on some stuff across

A. Performances Alright obviously these people are all streamers, so obviously they might not be the best actors, and hell no one is even asking that of them. However, when you're telling a story that's based on the audio with the visuals kinda coming to a second, it's gotta be pretty strong. I will say, some of the best actors in my opinion are Wilbur, Tommy, and Tubbo. I would include Ranboo but I never watched any of his story bits or story streams so I can't say much. Wilbur and Tommy are excellent in selling their character's emotions and feelings, when I watch the stream I don't feel like I'm watching an rp but an actual thought-out story yknow? And one of my favorite Tubbo examples was in the Hog Hunt video whenever Techno attacked him, he sounded genuinely afraid and I believed everything his character was feeling.

However, unfortunately, not everyone is gonna be that good. And I'm gonna say it; Dream and Techno have to be the worst out of the entire cast. I understand Techno's whole character is this monotoned badass, however, when really emotional moments hit I feel like he never lets that fall, and a lot of intense moments just ring hollow. And I'm sorry but Dream's attempts at being intimidating leave me laughing whenever I watch them. It feels like he watched that one scene from The Marriage with Adam Driver and Scarlett Johannson and said "Oh this is what good acting looks like! Just yelling." His whole "I don't give a FUCK about Spirit!" speech isn't as great as people keep making it out to be. And whenever he tries to act coy when being a villain it feels like a guy reading the script for the first time, a bit like he's trying too hard. I have more problems with his character but his portrayal certainly doesn't help.

Everyone else is fine, and I don't feel strongly either way about a lot of them.

B. The "Lore" Okay first off, I can't be the only one who thinks it's silly that people are calling the dsmp's story "lore" when it's not, it's the fucking story. Lore indicates backstory to either the world or the characters, which a lot of the streams don't really pertain to. This is a really petty section but god it's a weird pet peeve of mine.

Other than the misusage of "lore" vs "story", the actual lore and world-building of the world are so lackluster that new elements can be introduced whenever and it often feels cluttered or not well thought out at all. And here's the thing, I feel like if the writers sat down just for a few minutes to establish world rules and general history, a lot of this could be solved! but so much is made up on the spot that it starts to feel like they're grabbing at straws to keep people invested, trying to reach that next high and intense story beat without actually earning it.

C. The Egg / Eggpire This is a pretty minor note since I was only invested in the Egg storyline for a little bit, but god it's so underused that it's almost embarrassing. Bad has provided this super interesting antagonistic force that's infecting the SMP, can control people, and who one of our main character is immune to, and it's just never used or even talked about again? Now I understand if he wanted to keep it to a side storyline only, however, to introduce this borderline eldritch creature and force within the world and then never have it dealt with is so weird.

D. The Writing Oh boy this is. kinda a big one. Now I'm not gonna lie, it's pretty obvious I have a bias for the Wilbur writing over the current team [that consisting of Dream, Quackity, and Tommy mostly]. I don't this his writing is perfect by any means, the characters constantly bringing up traitors got obnoxious after a while, and writing Hamilton but in Minecraft really isn't the modern Shakespeare or anything. However, I think his exploration of characters and plot progression was a lot more thought out and well planned, like he actually had two brain cells behind the story yknow? The current team I think fails to be as emotional or even impactful, things happened too fast and my god was everything drowned in angst for so long.

Don't get me wrong, you gotta have your characters face hardships to make them reach their goal believable, but some of the shit they put the characters through just felt like too much. From c!Tubbo's constant comparison to c!Schlatt [who btw, fucking ordered his death and kept him from his friends in a nation he felt trapped in] and on a side note, i kinda really fucking dislike the "c!Schlatt dad!!" au's or the au's where c!Tubbo inherits some of Schlatt's features, it would be like c!Tommy getting a c!Dream mask after his exile, it's feels so weird yet people eat that shit up for some reason.

But god, did c!Tommy get the brunt of it all and in retrospect after his final death, it kinda feels really fucking gross. Now obviously, I'm not trusting any of these people to write decent mental health representation, but c!Tommy's PTSD and how it was explored was just degrading. [Specifically the scene in that one Techno stream where he saw the final control room from the first war, and had a flashback / panic attack where he started calling out for c!Dream. I understand this is an actual thing people with PTSD will experience, but it felt so fucking stereotypical it got on my nerves. I actually had to close out of the stream because it made me feel sick, fiction shouldn't leave you feeling that way.] And don't get me started on how they basically reused the formula from the previous arc. [Problem introduced -> Tensions rise as things start to fall apart -> Big confrontation -> Exile -> Return from Exile -> Blowing up L'Manberg, again.]

And speaking of characters-

E. Character Arcs, or the lack of them In my genuine opinion, some of these characters' arcs are so disappointing. Especially c!Tommy's. I'm not one to believe that he was a "selfish" character or anything, however, his goals were simply set on his discs and maybe c!Tubbo, he didn't have much outside that. However, L'Manberg gave him something to care about, he gave up his discs for it and he fought for it tooth and nail, I think it taught him to open up to others and trust more. It was a great character arc for him to have, seeing him still fight even after his first exile alongside c!Wilbur, to return safely to the nation that he and his found family had built.

But then his second exile happened, and I feel like all of that was undone.

c!Tommy's exile genuinely pisses me off for so many reasons. It's not that characters can't have their low points after reaching a major change or feeling like they've "completed" their arcs or anything, but it's more of the fact that it seems like he's never going to heal that feels like a spit in the face, especially to people who might have had setbacks like that before. Progress isn't linear, sometimes things happen and you get knocked back down, it can take a while to get back up, but I don't think c!Tommy's character is ever going to be allowed to get back up. From c!Dream, who pretty much was a constant abuser in his life, killing him then reviving him, and his still fractured relationship with c!Tubbo, which by the way I have a had time believing they would still be friends after all that happened, it feels like he can never get a win and it's generally kinda a shit way to treat your characters who have been abused. Of course, not all abused characters are going to get happy endings, I'm not trying to dictate that they all should, but c!Tommy deserves one and the fact that it's so obscure feels shitty.

Side note: we still don't have a canon reason to give a shit abt the discs. Like I'm sorry but without some sorta connection to the MacGuffin why should we give a shit about him getting them other than "he wants them lol". Like hell, I would even accept the classic "they were the last gifts from his parents" or something, but we still don't have a reason.

c!Tubbo also lacks a fulfilling arc as well, from someone who started out as a yes man, he has progressed a bit into having his own interests first, but besides that sometimes his character makes me so. depressed. He's easily one of the most pushed around and hated characters within the story, all for being a kid who didn't know what to do and he's in the same vein as c!Tommy; these kids can't get a break. Also, his anti-violence beliefs morphing into the "lets kill c!Techno lol!" bit was so out of place and without proper build-up it was like. what. And now he's building nukes?? god c!Tubbo makes me so sad because he's kicked around constantly and never given a chance to grow.

Another small note, I also don't really enjoy c!Techno at all. Besides the previously stated reasons of lack of emotions when they're really needed, I find his character to be weirdly pretentious. He talks as if he's constantly been betrayed and hurt but I personally, don't see it? Like, I think one of the main examples was the Pogtopia vs. Manberg war, yknow he wanted to end the government but they just reinstated it after they won = c!Techno upset. But this doesn't make sense to me because why did he think otherwise? The entire time c!Tommy had talked about taking back their nation and starting again, so the fact that c!Techno suddenly thought there would be a sudden change is, to put it bluntly, kinda fucking stupid. I don't want to say that he "plays the victim" or anything because that feels a bit harsh, but his character feels so far up his own ass that I can't enjoy him.

I have a major grip with c!Dream as well, but that's getting it's own fucking section.

F. L'Manberg This is a quick note before we get into the, forgive me for this, endgame, of this entire rant, since the next two sections are tied together. But god, L'Manberg makes me upset because it feels like they gave up on it.

Don't get me wrong, I understand that it is supposed to be c!Wilbur's "unfinished symphony", the thing that destroyed a once charismatic and widely loved man, his attempt at power that utterly ruined him. But the fact that it just got blown up in the end after everything and left to rot felt like such a waste of time. From the first war, to Pogtopia, to even c!Tommy's exile, it all felt fucking worthless in the end, and the story is actively closer to how it was when it started now more than ever. I wished it was actually allowed to exist and continue to be a peaceful place in what is a chaotic world, but no it was just snuffed out because why dedicate to this concept of finding others you can band together with and feel safe. fuck that noise apparently?

G. The Villains Now villain-wise, I'm only talking about c!Dream [during the first war], c!Schlatt, and c!Wilbur. And believe it or not, this is actually mostly positive.

Now I'm not gonna lie, c!Dream as a staring antagonist wasn't bad actually, he posed a genuine and threatening opposition to L'Manberg, even if we didn't know his real intentions or motivations as to why he was against it. He's lucky in this sense because he didn't have to be good, he had to be passable. If anything, he felt more like an anti-hero than a tyrant or traditional villain, and my god do I wish he kept this theme going forward.

Now quick disclaimer, I don't like JSchlatt as much as the next guy, he's an adult man who should know better than to joke about some sensitive topics and act the way that he does. But the one thing I'll ever give him is that damn, was he a good actor for his character.

Now here's the thing, c!Schlatt wasn't particularly deep at all. He had no real motivations behind his exile of c!Wilbur and c!Tommy other than getting competition out of the way, had no reason to act the way that he did and yknow? that's fine. The reason why he worked was from his performance alone, he was actually intimidating. When he came onto the stream and was doing his typical bad guy stuff, it was actually intense to see what he would do. Whenever he would almost catch c!Tommy back in Manberg, whenever he would begin to pressure c!Tubbo, it put you on the edge of your seat and it felt like everything would change at the drop of a pen. He's a villain to be a villain, and this works out because he's just charismatic and well put together enough to make it interesting, even without the backstory or motives.

c!Wilbur however, is much more tragic, and the best villain of the story. He essentially was the "mentor turned evil" trope and it felt terrible watching him descend into madness, unable to trust barely anyone except for c!Techno and c!Tommy. Hell, in the end I think he still cared about them both, despite losing everything. Sure, he blew up L'Manberg, but there was still a smidge of the old c!Wilbur in there made everything he did feel melancholic. His death at the hands of his father after achieving his final wish was chilling, and something I still think about.

Until yknow, Ghostbur came back way too soon to let people feel his loss as a character within that world. And then he got revived, pretty much-undoing everything that moment meant for his character lol.

And then there's the worst one:

H. Dream. I'm going to be completely honest, c!Dream is one of the main reasons why I dislike the current dsmp stuff so much. Outside of his actions as a person, the way Dream decided to write his character as this overpowered madman of the dsmp really just. destroyed any intrigue that he could've had. Perhaps this is from my growing dislike towards him, manifesting into a bias towards his character, but god I cannot fathom why people try to insist he's interesting when he has as much depth as a fucking puddle.

And here's the thing, I'm not even entirely against c!Dream being a villain, hell I think he would've been great as an anti-hero if anything. Make him sympathetic but not through c!George to get your precious "DNF" points or anything, but show him actually caring about the people within the dsmp, including c!Tommy and c!Tubbo. This would make his rival status with them just a bit more complicated, sure they're enemies, however, he doesn't want to hurt or kill them, and there's still a level of friendship there that keeps them bonded when things get super bad. This could've been super interesting to see, the first villain of the story receiving a sorta redemption arc then descending into madness as he started to fixate on being a god. This is all how I feel personally, but god do I feel like it would've been better than his current character, and hell would've worked with how he was during the Pogtopia arc, before the war that is. I'm not trying to tell Dream how to write his own character, but there are so many other ways he could've done the madman seeking to become god rather then. whatever the hell we got.

Because instead, we got this power-mad asshole who does things... because he can? And that's one of my major issues: he tries to surround his character in mystery to make him "intriguing" but it's kinda like c!Techno, it comes off as pretentious. Not only that, but you cannot keep waving around this mystery of a backstory without ever actually revealing it. I know the story isn't over, but c!Dream is effectively at his lowest point, now would be the time to reveal his backstory. But no just keep it in the dark and keep everyone guessing, that's totally fun and not at all tiring and annoying. (sarcasm, if anyone needs it)

And back to his performance, he doesn't sell this aloof, cynical and strategic warrior that has perfected the blade or some shit, he comes off as some angry guy yelling on reddit. which i don't need to tell you, isn't intimidating. It feels like he's trying to have c!Schlatt's intimidation combined with c!Wilbur's depth, but instead he's like a little brother who's trying to hard to mimic his older brother and is kinda embarrassing himself.

but other then that i dont feel too strongly abt the dsmp lol

but seriously, these are the main complaints I have abt the story tbh, I could probably talk about more but I wont because man. this is probably gonna get me in trouble if any of the hyper-dsmp fans actually read it.

#wow this is long #txt #anti dsmp #anti dream #dsmp crit #dsmp critical #yeah im tagging it i dont give a shit #dream crit #dream critical #the story is shit yo!

[crusherthedoctor]

Can you list anything you unironically like in the games (and cartoons and comics) that you don't like?

I won't bother mentioning music, since that goes without saying and is to be expected for a Sonic game... unless you're Chronicles.

Sonic Adventure 2 (mixed gameplay-wise, annoying story-wise) - While I prefer Sonic's SA1 levels for a number of reasons, I still think his and Shadow's gameplay in SA2 is fun on its own merit. I also don't mind the treasure hunting gameplay returning or how big the levels are this time around, since Knuckles and Rouge are still fast and not '06 levels of slow. It's mainly the gimped radar that creates the unfortunate domino effect of making them a problem.

- Introduced Rouge, one of my favourite characters for how playful she is and how she's a lot more nuanced and intelligent than you'd expect.

- Some genuinely good scenes, like Eggman's trap on the A.R.K and Sonic escaping from the G.U.N. helicopter.

- Had some good ideas going for it, like the Pyramid Base and the Biolizard as a scientific monster instead of an ancient one.

- Despite my thoughts on the backstory itself (or rather, its execution), Shadow has enough depth and subtle qualities and occasional unintended hilarity to stand out from the typical dark rival characters you see in media.

- The Last Scene's music in particular is one of my favourite cutscene tracks in the series.

Sonic Heroes (mixed gameplay-wise, loathed story-wise) - The gameplay is fun when you're not being screwed over by repetitive combat, overly long levels and/or ice physics.

- Boasts some of the most consistently Genesis-worthy environments in the 3D games, up there with SA1's and Colours'.

- The in-game dialogue that isn't the same tutorial drivel repeated ad nauseam can be interesting, funny, etc.

- Reintroduced the Chaotix, which provided me with another character I quite like in the form of Vector.

- Bringing Metal Sonic back in full force and front and center in the plot after a long absence (not counting cameos and the like) is a perfectly fine idea. Just... not like this.

Sonic Battle (decent yet repetitive gameplay, mixed story-wise) - Emerl's arc is compelling, and it earns the emotional weight of having to put him down at the end.

- While some characters are iffy (read: Amy), other characters are extremely well-handled. Shadow is probably the prime example.

- Gamma's belly dance healing animation is fucking hilarious.

- When I was young, and the game was first announced, I was really excited about being able to play as Chaos. This proved to be my downfall when it turned out he was arguably one of the worst characters in the game due to being slower than me during the writing process, but I still recall that excitement fondly.

Shadow the Hedgehog (comedy classic) - The sheer amount of legendary stupidity this game has going for it makes it practically impossible to actually hate. It helps that it's not quite as white-knighted on the same level as '06... usually. You know you're in for a unique experience when you hear a gunshot every time you click something in the menu.

- By extension, Black Doom never gained an unironic fanbase like Mephiles/Scourge/Eggman Nega did, which means I'm a lot more willing to take Doom's dumbass brand of villainy in stride. He even has a unique design... a terrible one that rips off Wizeman granted, but alas, even that is a step-up from Fridge Shadow and Bumblebee Eggman.

- Despite being... well, Shadow the Hedgehog, some of the environments would fit right in with any other Sonic game, like with Circus Park, Lava Shelter, and Digital Circuit. Even the Black Comet levels look pretty cool.

- This game understands amnesia better than IDW does.

Sonic '06 (what do you think?) - The obvious one: Shadow's character was handled pretty well, even if it came at the cost of everyone else being a dummy and being forced to interact with Mephiles.

- Like SA2, there are some good moments, like the Last Story ending sequence with Sonic and Elise.

- In the greatest form of irony ever, I like Solaris as a concept and design(s), and its backstory has potential to serve as a parallel with Chaos without being a complete ripoff. Iblis sucks, Mephiles sucks, but I'm fine with Solaris.

- Introduced legendary characters like Sonic Man, Pele the Beloved Dog, Hatsun the Pigeon, and Pacha from The Emperor's New Groove.

The Rivals duology (apathetic outside of Nega-related grumbling) - There were some cool zone ideas in both games that were sadly let down by the restrictive and limiting gameplay. I particularly like Colosseum Highway for thus far being the only full-on Roman level in the series instead of merely having a couple minor hints of Roman, and Meteor Base for the unique scenario of the space station being built into an asteroid. These level concepts and others deserve a second chance IMO. (At least Frontier Canyon got a second chance in the form of Mirage Saloon, amirite?)

- Ifrit has a better design than Iblis. Not saying it's amazing, but the Firebird motif it has going on is a lot more interesting for a fire monster than the Not-Chaos schtick they had with Iblis.

Sonic and the Secret Rings (a very frustrating gaming experience) - Erazor Djinn, A.K.A. Qui-Gon Djinn, A.K.A. Dr. N. Djinn, A.K.A. I'll Take It On The Djinn, A.K.A. Not From The Hairs On My Djinny Djinn Djinn, is one of the best villains not associated with Eggman in the series. He's a Mephiles-type character done right, and there's actual weight and reason to his actions, however sinister or petty.

- I don't have strong opinions either way on Shahra as a character, but the Sonic/Shahra friendship is sweet and well-handled.

- The ending is one of Sonic's greatest moments. The sheer contrast between how ruthlessly he deals with Erazor and how comforting he is towards Shahra speaks volumes... Still gonna make fun of the mountain of handkerchiefs though. (Before anyone lectures me, I understand the significance of it and can even appreciate it from that angle... doesn't mean I'm not allowed to poke fun at it. :P)

- Another game with some redeeming environments. I love the aesthetic of Night Palace, and Sand Oasis looks gorgeous too.

Sonic Chronicles (my personal least favourite game in the series) - Uh...

- Um...

- Er...

- I like Shade's design?

Sonic Unleashed (overrated game and story IMO) - The obvious two: the opening sequence and the Egg Dragoon fight deserve all the praise they get.

- Seeing Eggmanland come to life was an impressive moment to be sure. While part of me does feel it didn't quite measure up to what I had in mind (ironically, the Interstellar Amusement Park ended up being closer to what I had in mind), it still looks badass and works well for what it is. I also don't mind the idea of it being a one-level gauntlet... key word being idea.

- Obviously, the game looks great. Not a fan of the real world focus (real world inspiration is fine, but copy-pasting the real world and shoving loops in it is just unimaginative), but it can't be denied that the environments look good.

- This game pulled off dialogue options a lot better than Chronicles did, since they didn't rely on making Sonic OoC.

Sonic and the Black Knight (just kind of boring all around) - Despite my gripes with the story (Merlina wasn't nearly as fleshed out as her unique anti-villain status deserved, which ends up severely undermining the ambition of the plot in more ways than one, and the other characters go from being useless yes men for King Arthur to being useless yes men for Sonic), I will admit it provides interesting insight into Sonic's character.

- Like '06 and Secret Rings, the ending is very nice... well, aside from Amy being an unreasonable bitch ala Sonic X at the very end.

Sonic the Hedgehog 4 (apathetic) - The admittedly few new concepts sprinkled within had promise. They may not have been as fleshed out as they could have been, but level concepts like Sylvania Castle and White Park, bosses like Egg Serpentleaf and the Egg Heart, and story beats like the Death Egg mk.II being powered by Little Planet, all could have been brilliant had they been better executed.

SatAM (apathetic outside of SatAM Robotnik-related grumbling) - I'm not a fan of the environments on the whole due to them looking too bland or samey, but there are some exceptions that look pleasant or interesting, like the Void.

Sonic Underground (apathetic) - The character designs make me feel better about myself.

- Does "large quantities of unintentional meme material" count as a positive?

Sonic X (mostly apathetic outside of Eggman's handling) - Helen was a better human character and audience surrogate in her one focus episode than Chris was throughout his entire runtime.

- Actually, most of the human characters not named Chris were legitimately likable. Including everyone in Chris' own family not named Chris. Hilarious.

- Despite arguably having the most Chris in it, I actually don't mind the first season that much, partly due to slight nostalgia from seeing it on TV when it was new, but mostly because Eggman actually acted like a villain for the most part, and certain other characters weren't quite as flanderized yet. It's season 2 and onwards where things started going off the rails IMO. (Incidentally, Helen's episode was part of season 1...)

The Boom franchise (apathetic) - Along with Chronicles, the games provide yet more proof that just because someone isn't SEGA/Sonic Team, that doesn't mean they're automatically more qualified to handle the series.

- The show had some good episodes here and there, and Tails' characterization was probably the most consistently on-point out of the cast.

- Despite not exactly being favourite portrayals for either character, even I'll admit that many of Knuckles and Eggman's lines in the show on their own were genuinely funny.

Archie Sonic (pre-reboot is mostly terrible, post-reboot is mostly... bland) - Whenever I doubt myself as a writer, I think back to Ken Penders, and suddenly I'm filled with a lot more confidence.

Sonic the Comic (apathetic) - Fleetway isn't a comic I tend to recall much of aside from how much of a loathesome cunt Sonic is, but IIRC, Robotnik's portrayal is pretty good. Different, but good.

IDW Sonic (stop pissing me off, comic) - Putting their handling aside (and being too obviously "inspired" by MGS in the latter's case), Tangle and Whisper are good characters IMO.

- Same goes for Starline, before he was killed off-screen and replaced with Toothpaste Snively.

- Execution aside (noticing a pattern?), the zombot virus was a fine concept on its own and an interesting new scheme for Eggman.

- I get to remind myself that I've never drawn scat edits and posted them publicly on Twitter.

#Crusher's Asks #Opinion #Sonic the Hedgehog #Sonic Adventure 2 #Sonic Battle #Shadow the Hedgehog #Sonic the Hedgehog 2006 #Sonic Rivals #Sonic and the Secret Rings #Sonic Chronicles: The Dark Brotherhood #Sonic Unleashed #Sonic and the Black Knight #Sonic the Hedgehog 4 #Sonic SatAM #Sonic Underground #Sonic X #Sonic Boom #Archie Sonic #Sonic the Comic #IDW Sonic

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 31

First time reader click here

it's a mental breakdown *off-key kazoo*. One (1) incident of physical abuse from a parent. And Stephen Strange arc begins opening. Kind of angsty, but more of a filler chapter to resolve the parents-suck thing.

A couple of days was all it took for me to get back on my feet... Figuratively speaking. Neither Bruce nor Tony was particularly excited about me being up and about, I was carried to my desired destination point by one or the other on most occasions. Physically, my body grew tired very easily - I took a lot of sporadic naps throughout the day, more often than not falling asleep in someone's arms. Nobody minded, really - even Loki, who wasn't a touchy-feely person by any means, relented and acted as a body pillow for me when we crashed on the common room couch to catch up with the TV show episodes I'd missed.

Tony was very obviously on the verge of a nervous breakdown. During the few hours I had spent being chased by the Cursed Box Demon in my nightmares, all the leads towards the contractor proved to be cold. Natasha was the most irritated of them all - a late-night talk with Clint through the vent above my room revealed that she took it as a personal insult, unprepared for a simple merc to be so good at evading the world's most notorious spy.

Hulk kept taking over Bruce's body - eyes shining fluorescent green - at the times we were together, periodically clutching me to his chest with clumsy but careful movements. I pitied the mercenary should he encounter my gentle scientist - I didn't think Bruce would even attempt to hold back Mean Green. They seemed to have achieved some sort of symbiosis those days, switching between the two personalities in one body almost effortlessly. Circumstances aside, I was very happy that the tension and the persistent internal conflict inside Bruce had almost disappeared.

What made me upset was Strange. The sorcerer was behaving, well, strangely. He began avoiding all of us - his excuses of helping the search for the merc were flimsy, and Wong's long, deep sigh, when asked about the sorcerer's state of mind, spoke volumes. I suspected Stephen was either seething with anger or drowning himself in the sea of guilt; I had a hunch he was similar to Tony in a way that he hid his vulnerability behind an impenetrable wall of malice and sarcasm and dry wit.

Perhaps I was wrong. But the pent up frustration resulting from the conflict between my overactive brain and my uncooperative body had to blow - and my mother was the fire to my already short fuse. Somehow, she got ahold of the information that I was hurt indirectly because of the actions of the Avengers - and she had called the first available phone she found, which meant Pepper Potts got an earful of vitriol regarding Stark Industries, SHIELD, Tony, and everyone else, including my father. Stoic as she was, Pepper took it all with grace, replying politely to my mother until she hung up on the redhead.

Pepper placed an urgent call to Coulson immediately after that, making the already uncomfortable situation spiral into something truly disgraceful. It ended with strict orders for me to return home - not that anyone besides me and Coulson knew about it. I was a legal adult, I could choose to stay in the tower and my mother was told so on numerous occasions... Knowing her, I was well aware she wouldn't be above storming Tony's home with a small army of her lawyer friends.

Inwardly seething, melting with the anger sitting in the pit of my stomach like a sharp piece of ice, I managed to convince Tony to have Happy escort me home at the guise of gathering more necessities. Tony, being Tony, offered me to buy anything and everything I needed, but relented under my puppy-eyed pleading. It was getting harder and harder to lie to any of my men, the weight of it settling unpleasantly bitter on top of my already foul mood.

Happy grumbled in displeasure at being tailed by a nondescript black SUV - I knew SHIELD would have eyes on me 24/7 now, at least until they catch the rogue mercenary - but seemed to be happy at my general state of relative wellness in his own... Happy... way. Five-second side-grin and "Glad you're up and about, Princess," was probably the most I was going to get from the man who's nickname contradicted his personality. In my humble opinion, he should've been called Brick instead. He was built like a shit house, too.

The moment I stepped into the living room, wearing Wanda's spare sweats and Tony's hoodie, I took a slow look around the room and immediately knew this was it. Most of my anger had receded, courtesy of finally being able to get out of the tower and do something, but the ice in my stomach persisted. The smell of whiskey and cigarettes hit me like a wall, news playing on the TV doing very little to dissolve the viscid, tense silence.

"Sit down," My mother instructed me in the tone of voice she used on people in the courtroom - convicts, people who knowingly broke NDAs.

"I don't think so," I replied, refusing to give in to her bullying. I was being absolutely reckless, I knew it, and still it didn't stop me from standing up for my men. Logically speaking, it could have happened to me anyway, Avengers or not. The cursed box came along long before I'd even met Peter Parker or any of his rag-tag superhero friends.

"Fine," She turned around, steely eyes leveled on me. I was but a speck of dirt under her nails - for the first time in my life, I felt terrified of my mother. I knew what she was capable of. "Listen well, daughter of mine. I'm going to only repeat myself once," She started in that deceptively calm tone of hers. "You are to stop mingling with Stark and his... Company. Immediately. I do not want to hear any more of that Parker boy, either. You will not destroy your future and our family's legacy over some fling with a man twice your age. This little game has gone long enough and it's time for you to get back to reality."

The more she spoke, the higher my eyebrows rose. I was supposed to take orders from my own mother now? Something thin, something thin and crackling with electricity within me just snapped - like a live wire. The hairs on my nape stood up, goosebumps appearing all over my skin. "And what if I do not?" I asked, just as quietly.

I was not prepared for her reaction. One second, she was sitting on the couch and the other - my cheek was burning and my mother was standing over me, breathing the stench of alcohol and tobacco right in my face. I saw the whites of her eyes. "Then you are no daughter of mine. I did not raise you to be someone's cumrag and all this play-pretend scientist shit had to have ended in middle school. I hoped you'd grow up but apparently, you insist on being a baby," She was full-on screaming in my face, so rabid she was shaking.

All I could think of was... How wrong she was. How wrong she would be, her sad little world broken when she finds out just exactly how much I'm capable of. Long gone were the days where I timidly questioned my scientific contributions; thanks to my men - the same men she'd hated so much - I knew my value. I knew I could achieve the things that I wanted.

"If that is your choice, you have thirty minutes to get your shit and get lost. I will not have a whore of a daughter living under my roof," I had missed a good part of her rant; most likely, it consisted of nothing but meaningless insults anyway. After she'd finished, she gave me a shove towards the stairs.

It didn't bother me as much as it should, I think. My cheek smarted and somewhere deep inside, I knew that the eerie calm that had settled over me wasn't normal - on the surface, I felt only relief. The things I suspected all along, finally came to light - she didn't even perceive me as a human being, I was no more than a means to her end. A tool. A thing.

The waterworks started when I frantically shoved most of the shit I could fit in my three suitcases. Upset as I was, my scatterbrain did me a favor that time and I gathered most of the important things. Notebooks full of my research - projects that my mother had called a child's game, projects that could be patented in a week, add a tweak or two. With sudden clarity, I realized I needed none of her money. None of her... At all. In short, I was emotionally all over the place and at the end of it... None of it made sense.

I threw the credit cards with her name on them on the coffee table as I hauled out my suitcases, not sparing the bitch a glance. She was equally quiet, boring into my back with those steely eyes of hers. I felt my skin peel under her stare. In my distraught state, hauling and dumping the suitcases in my car was quick work. Detaching the house key and tossing the last things that connected me to her house on the floor at her feet was a spur of the moment decision; my mother was right, to some extent, and I still had childish tendencies. "You had no right to call yourself my mother in the first place. All you were was an egg donor with more money than you could make sense of. Enjoy your hoard, you damned dragon," I seethed, seeing her frozen in place with her arms crossed and chin held high.

Some part of me hoped she would apologize. That naïve, childish part - I knew my mother and I knew myself, and the trait that we shared was stubbornness. I sped out of the estate without ever looking back, driving aimlessly for a while until the honking coming from drivers around me began reaching alarming levels of volume; tears began flowing down my face at some point, all but obscuring my vision. I parked in the nearest place I could find, in front of a Waffle House out of all places.

Crying in a Waffle House parking lot, how pathetic was that. Logically, I knew at least five people had my back: Tony and Bruce, who surprisingly loved me back; Loki, who had become strangely clingy after my declaration - clingy in the best way. Together with Wanda and Peter, they made my heart warm and my eternally racing brain feel calm and safe.

I called my dad, he didn't pick up. I don't know what I expected of the man, but any and all remnants of my respect for him shattered, breaking into tiny little pieces as I helplessly banged my fists against the steering wheel in a fit of desperate rage. One look in the mirror and my already ashen complexion was made worse by red, puffy eyes and the blooming bruise on my cheek where my mother had slapped me. It was the first time she'd laid a hand on me; I wanted to throw up.

I sat in the car until my breathing slowed; completely and utterly clueless as to what to do. I had no home of my own, three suitcases worth of clothes and research that was useless without a lab to run experiments in, my car, and a small trust fund in my name. The recent incident with the curse box had left me mentally drained as it was, now, I could surely say that my head was empty: no thoughts.

And throughout it all, Stephen's avoidance crossed my mind. As if the self-loathing wasn't enough, as if my own blood, the people who were supposed to care for me, rejecting and ignoring me wasn't strong enough of a blow... The sorcerer's avoidance raised more anger within me. I didn't know why but the thought of him made me want to cry and seethe once again.

Logic gone out of the window, I typed in the Sanctum's address into my GPS with shaking fingers, figuring that if he wasn't willing to do the legwork, I will come to him myself and clarify things for all at once. The mixed signals were just a cherry on top of my sky-high problem sundae.

I banged on the door and it flew open immediately, a surprised sorcerer quickly turning concerned and panicky, noticing my general state of appearance. I was still wearing the same clothes and my hair was in disarray, my face looking somewhere between a coke bender and a manic episode.

"You," I stated darkly, taking a deep breath. "You need to tell me what the fuck is wrong with me and reject me, so I can move on already. And you," I poked the man in the chest, right above the fancy eye-shaped necklace, "Need to stop it with the mixed signals. Stop wallowing in self-pity. Whatever you are doing, STOP IT," My voice involuntarily raised in pitch from all those emotional rollercoasters I've been on that day. "Get back to being normal. Let me fucking live," I finished my tirade as the man stared at me, frozen and open-mouthed.

"I..." He stammered, eyeing me with concern. "What in the multiverse happened to you? What..?" He was so confused, pulling out his phone the moment I bailed my fists.

"My mother threw me out, my father doesn't give a fuck about me, apparently I'm a cheap whore with delusions of grandeur. You're avoiding me and everybody is waiting for me to blow up," I screeched, all but vibrating in my spot. "This is me blowing up. I want answers!" I demanded.

Strange recoiled from me, frowning and pocketing his phone. A deep sigh left him, the kind that made his whole body sag. He ran a careful hand through his hair before looking away and slowly pulling me against his chest, the door shutting behind me and keeping the cold out. I hadn't even noticed I was freezing; my feet were wet from the NYC winter slush and mud.

Stephen's embrace was warm and tender; I wanted to lean into it and push him away at the same time. I was so messed up, it was embarrassing. There was nothing acceptable about this situation - I felt guilty as soon as his face fell.

"Jesus Christ, baby," He mumbled quietly. "Sounds like you had one hell of a day. Let's go, I'll put on some tea," He rubbed soothing circles on my back, something that confused me - I just had stormed in and dumped a bucket of bile right on top of his head.

"I should go," I mumbled, yet had no real strength to move away from him.

"You're not going anywhere. I suppose I need to explain myself, too," He sighed, and despite his obvious discomfort, picked me up, letting my limbs to wrap around his torso like a monkey. I was careful to keep my weight off his hands, even if the trip to the fireplace room was short. As soon as I was placed onto the couch and my shoes were removed, Cloaky drifted over from a dark corner, urging me to take off my soggy hoodie, and wrapped itself tightly around me.

Turns out, semi-sentient cloaks were quite warm.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie @mikariell95

#party favours #bun writes #stephen strange x y/n #stephen strange x you #stephen strange x reader #tony stark x you #tony stark x reader #tony stark x y/n #bruce banner x you #bruce banner x reader #bruce banner x y/n

[hopeshoodie]

Ok so I finally got caught up on CMM (anon, I have a lot going on right now, maybe don’t send me over ten asks with spoilers in them… I pinkie promise I’ll post once I read it) and thoughts-

Obviously the big one is Shannon and Hope. I would’ve paid all my gems to talk to either one of them, but I’m still a little salty that we did have to pay. For such a short scene, they recycled 30% of the dialogue towards the beginning and that was annoying. It would’ve been so easy to make them unique. Hope absolutely would have been insecure and said ‘did anyone ask about me’, but Shannon wouldn’t. Shannon doesn’t care, she could’ve said something like “lol does anyone even remember me?” or “it’s totally fine, sounds like it was an original islanders only party”. The reasons they gave for not being there were pretty good, and it makes me feel better than in-canon they weren’t un-invited. Hope’s part was much longer than Shannon’s but I liked Shannon’s more.

My big issue with the phone calls was that Hope’s call was just… flat. In the villa, Hope was smiling all the time, super expressive and warm, and her call just seemed really… flat. It lacked a warmth that being BFFs with her merits. And the conceit, that she’s at a stuffy wellness retreat trying to schmooze a client with her boss, would’ve been really ripe for her being expressive. Like “omg thank god a normal person, I’ve been doing nothing but smiling and agreeing all weekend”. I did like how she expressed insecurity and then corrected herself, it showed a lot of growth. I just wish there would’ve been more sincerity and personality.

I’m not mad about Chelsea and Rocco. I kinda don’t think they’ll last, because Rocco will eventually move on and Chelsea is desperately trying to cling to the experience of the villa through him. But I feel like it was effectively foreshadowed, and seems pretty in character for the both of them. It’s not the redemption arc I was hoping for Rocco though, I still hope Rocco sits down with Lottie or Priya and properly apologizes.

Chelsea’s password being BRA? Jesus christ, give it a rest, FB. She has more than one personality trait. The CMM writers really just latched onto 1-2 cute moments with each character in the main season and decided “this is all they think and talk about”. Same with Hope saying pacifically again and Priya’s gauche sunflower print.

The escape room bit was fun, but I wish the riddles hadn’t been multiple choice (instead the typing in thing and if you get it right Chelsea’s excited but otherwise has stock lines like ‘not quite… it’s a mirror!’). Also it would’ve been more fun if another character was trapped with MC, just to see them try to solve it. The humor in that section was good though, I especially liked the reaction to throwing the box at the wall.

LOVED the new outfits, they’re all super cute but like… Why did I spent 10 gems when literally no one’s going to acknowledge the costume change?? Like surely someone would be like “what… happened? Why did you change?” or even “you changed because you’re the murderer and were getting blood off your clothes!”. But nothing.

I’m not super invested in the mystery, and I don’t really mind that. The characters and their reminiscing is more important. But like… I don’t think the clues were handled very compellingly. The clues aren’t really tied to any one specific person, and they’re not insight into how the murders took place or what enabled the person to get away. It’s just… Here’s a note Chelsea gave you, here’s a thing that was at the scene. I’d like it more if it was things like ‘a bare footprint, a half drank wine glass, a cypher with a puzzle attached’. Something that you could be like ‘x character wouldn’t know how to do that, x character likes wine’ etc. 

Also I don’t love how it seems like the murderer changes based on your choices? Like if they’ve coded it so that everyone’s possibly the murderer and it’s just revealed based on player choice who it is that’s not… A mystery… Like I’d much prefer if only 1 person was the murderer, or there was a pre-set killer for each victim.

Lucas died in my game (I’m romancing Priya), and there was a chance to flirt with him before he died. I know other people had Lottie die if Gary was the LI, so who dies if Bobby is your LI? Can you romance Lottie and the other person?

My eggs are still all in the ‘Noah’s the murderer’ basket.

I really hate how explicit the switch between the mystery and socializing has been. Obviously that’s a facet of everyone playing characters, but like three times now there’s been “let’s get back to the mystery!” or “let’s stop the mystery to socialize” and it just feels clunky and breaks up the story. I’d prefer if all of the characters collectively disregarded the characters they’re playing, except when clearly delivering dialogue in reaction to things, so that there’s less “are you in character right now or are you you?”. I’d also change it so that everyone really casually talks about their theories and the mystery but for the most part isn’t super invested in it. That way the player can choose to be the only one who cares about the mystery and solving it, or we can do away with the back and forth about it. I don’t know, I’m just not a fan of how we keep interrupting GOOD scenes like MC/her LI bonding, reminiscing with people, or Chelsea announcing her relationship to be like ‘lol let’s talk about a mystery’.

I’m shipping Lucas and Priya more than MC and Priya because when romancing her, Priya really doesn’t have any personality outside of ‘interested in MC’, versus when she’s roleplaying with Lucas or around everyone else she’s back to being herself. It’s creating this weird dynamic where the writing makes it seem like Priya is /uncomfortable/ or not herself when romancing MC, to the point where I feel guilty?? Like she seemed more in-character and excited when talking about a guy who dumped her than she has been when kissing and doing the nasty with MC all night. Like honestly you could replace her with Rahim in all her romance scenes and it would be more in-character for Rahim.

Overall I’m... Enjoying it. Like I’m not stopping mid-episode to do something else like I was with S3. But tbh I think I enjoyed Boat Party more, and I’m really only thinking about specific scenes and headcanons after putting my phone down (as opposed to S2 and S1 which lived in my head rent free after playing an episode) 

Maybe part of that is I have a really poor working memory and prefer to binge consume media instead of playing it week by week, so I lose interest each week. Once it’s fully released I’ll have to play it in one go and let yall know if it’s actually bad or I’m just bad. 

#litg #cmm spoilers

[astroninaaa]

Okay, still not entirely sure if this counts ad a hot take but here i go ig (honestly pretty sure its not, just wanted to share some thoughts on the viewpoints and the impact they have)

Im not exactly caught up on lore, but i just want to say the black and white viewpoint (or the whole view of sides) of characters(or viewers in some cases) on the server play a lot into the view on lore. That specific viewpoint gives a lot to the general lore of the server when a. 'Protaganist' meets 'antagonist' b. 'protagonist' /'antagonist' meets anyone in general. The reason i think that is bc when who everyone views as 'good' and the 'bad' person comes into play, theres proof that theres a standard, theres already the general idea of whats good and bad to the characters (or viewers) and its often taken into a negative light. For example, manipulation, he has no ties we know of now and is stuck in a room with no comfort (and in my personal opinion has it worse than anyone ever had), but going off fhe reason i know about him, i could say hes the protagonist here in the story because hes becoming a villain to reunite the server as one big happy family, sacrificing himself and becoming the antagonist most view him as, Dream. On the other hand, it is true that a dude has caused a lot of trouble, using people to do work for him in context of lore ofc, starting wars, helping start a country with literal drugs that if i remember correctly was originally only for British people? So in context of lore, Tommy would be the antagonist? But for some reason, the reason being Tommy is a child, its somehoe okay for him to start wars and build a literal nation literally only changing the fact its with drugs and only allowing specific people to join. Okay maybe thats not THAT good of an example but the standard of bad apparently is manipulating a child to protect the peace of the server and the standard of good is being a child despite starting wars and a lot more. The standards the characters (and viewers) see as good and bad dont exactly make the most sense.

So ig idk how to explain it really but ill try is that if we see it from a objective perspective, good and bad would be behind the intention right? So why is there a standard? Bc if there isnt a standard whats to say anything is good or bad? Bc nothing is exactly good or bad. Theres reasons behind everything but the way the story progresses there is always a 'protagonist' and an 'antagonist'. And thats the only way the story can progress because without the black and white viewpoint no characters will have conflict, no conflict means there really isnt really a lot of lore to be done.

So in summary, the black and white viewpoint is the standard of the right and wrong on the server and without it litterally no lore would exist. (and that i hate c!tommy as a person but find him as a character interesting)

Idk when im gonna send an ask again so just so uk it wasnt a one time thing for me to send asks :)

-Lou

for one i completely disagree because the one person that has started wars the most has been c!dream. he has also caused a lot more property damage than c!tommy, he just then proceeded to frame c!tommy for most of it. the reason c!dream is usually seen as evil isn't because he manipulates minors, but because of all the violence, lying, murder, betrayal, and whatnot. it's not only about intentions. besides, c!tommy was honestly, most of the time, just trying to have fun. has he done bad things? absolutely. many times. he has done a lot of things i disagree with, but that doesn't change the fact he never deserved any of the pain and abuse that was inflicted onto him, which i believe makes him a much more sympathy-inducing character. also building a nation is not a crime

saying if something is good or bad touches morality, and i agree with you that nothing is exactly good or bad because each character has different morals. ask c!techno and c!puffy what their thoughts are on using withers and their answers will be obviously different.

the black and white view isn't exactly the standard, i believe. all characters are different shade of morally gray and that's just as important as the idea of morality in itself for the story. besides, i believe we don't need antagonists and protagonists for the lore to progress- just look at the egg arc! there were many different characters and you could argue all of them were both antagonists and protagonists. i don't know

anyways i respect your opinion tho!!! it's valid and i see your point, i just don't think i exactly agree with it. you explained it pretty well tho, so thank you!!!

send me a hot take!!!

#hot take ask!!! #ask moment #lou anon #i couldve probably answered this better but ngl im tired yall #LMAOOO #not tired of the hot takes just Generally Tired i wanna take a nap

[cheekbites-moved]

ok i still havent gotten the secret ending but farming for it might take me a bit so im gonna make a thoughts post for age of calamity now:

Major spoilers obvs so ill put it under a read more

things i enjoyed:

revali beatdown simulator

the controls for the divine beasts are a bit clunky, but i think the angles they used for them did an excellent job at really making the player feel like we were actually controlling a divine beast. so i think it was done well.

link’s personality really gets to shine full force in this game with the amount of cut scenes and it was wonderful to see

every character clearly had a lot of love put into how they operate. they truly all feel unique, & all of their play styles fit them really well in my opinion

the game does a really good job of making you understand what a real threat the monsters are. like in botw they’re intimidating at first, but once you’re far enough into the game they become just an inconvenience to work around if anything. this game managed to actually make certain monsters intimidating for me again, and i think that’s a real accomplishment

the blight battles are actually somewhat challenging in this game and that is truly a commendable achievement lol i think all the bosses are good tbh. i didnt rly dislike or not enjoy any of them.

the way daruk and link’s friendship & urbosa’s motherly relationship towards zelda got to shine was. so good. it’s all i could’ve ever wanted

seeing the descendants again was really nice & it was awesome to see the champions interacting with them!! especially sidon and mipha omggggg. that was. really fucking good shit

kohga. just. kohga in general. getting to see more of him was really rad, he’s such a fun guy! and his english va was Excellent. you could really tell he was having a lot of fun playing him, and it was lovely to see! :)

zelda getting to really shine in this game was also lovely to see. and her being so assertive and badass by the end? omg. it was so wonderful especially after botw. man. 

the combat is done very well imo. im rly glad that they took so many elements from botw, but also added their own flares to make it feel fresh. it was rad.

sidon’s tagline is “winning smile” and his power is “boundless optimism” and i think that’s beautiful

the music in this game is SOOOOO good oh my god. multiple times during playing i had to pause to just appreciate it. it’s pretty much all remixes of botw with a few originals for the new characters, but they all slap. there was not a single song in this game i didn’t like. it is definitely one of my favorite video game soundtracks officially. maybe one of my favorite overall soundtracks in general tbh.

the visuals obviously look just like botw, but it still looked fucking gorgeous at some points. like. man. they really went off to make it look not only faithful to botw as far as appearance goes, but also as far as capturing botw’s beauty and it was. excellent to see!

if anything is true to botw’s backstory, it’s definitely how op link is. cause he was established to be op in botw, & when u finish botw he is also op as hell. he is so fun to play as the higher leveled he gets. he absolutely kicks ass. especially with a two-handed weapon??? daaaaammmmnnn. thats my badass baby boy!!!!

link eating rocks not once, but TWICE. just showing PEAK gremlin energy. 10/10 for those scenes they were great

the ending was really beautiful actually and i did cry like a little baby for it what about it

things i didn’t like:

obviously first and foremost.. this is not the game we were advertised. and no matter how much i overall enjoyed the game, it will always have some layer of being tainted attached to it due to the false advertising. this is not the prequel we thought we’d be getting. & not using “prequel” specifically doesn’t matter when all the advertising, including the box art talks about this being the story of what happened 100 years ago. with no indication it wasn’t the story of what happened 100 years ago in the botw timeline, but a separate universe/timeline entirely. i do hope we get dlc for the game at some point giving us what we were advertised, but at the same time... rly wish that the story that’s in the final game was dlc, & the story we were promised was the original :/ or just having the game have two separate storylines originally would’ve been cool. i just wish it wasn’t falsely advertised. 

fort hateno can fucking eat my whole entire shit WHY is that part so needlessly obnoxious compared to everything else oh my god

being forced to fulfill revali’s power fantasy TWICE hurt my soul

fuck any mission where you have to protect the useless hylian guards. i hate them. they suck.

the ai for player characters when you aren’t playing as them can also be pretty useless. it was really frustrating failing missions because my fellow party members weren’t helping me, and i was basically expected to be in two places at once to get shit done myself. :/ ik you can just switch between characters to make it easier, but like. i like playing as link the most. he’s my favorite character, & ofc since he’s mandatorily played for most of the story, he’s gonna be the most leveled up character regardless so he’s just the best to play as in general especially for harder missions. it was annoying to be forced to play as other people Solely cause the ai was so useless.

king rhoam’s attempt at a redemption arc. i’m not sorry that i just fucking hate this man. i don’t mind him entirely in botw bc you can see clear, genuine remorse during the cut scene at the end of the great plateau. but the redemption arc he gets in this game? after all the fucking shit he does in this game? especially when after his ~redemption arc~ i had to sit through a cut scene of him being an absolute fucking asshole to baby zelda after her mother just died????? absolutely fuck that shit. i don’t appreciate that crap at fucking all. he’s a verbally abusive piece of shit and i hate his guts.

obviously there was gonna be some retconning of how certain things worked in botw in order to make this kinda game work but the way sheikah technology works in this game is so goddamn confusing i do not get it. the works of botw are never outright said or explained completely, but it’s straightforward enough that it doesn’t really matter. this game does try to explain certain things and it just becomes. really clunky and confusing very quickly. 

the story is alright, i guess, but..... really confusing/convoluted as hell at times to a point that it’s. really fucking distracting. especially in comparison to how straightforward botw’s story is. like..... cannot help but be annoyed that such a problem wouldn’t have been a thing if they stuck to botw’s story.

i was sad when the egg thing died but i dont like the egg thing.... it is the MAIN reason shit was retconned so much & i just. dont get its purpose. but i did really like the reveal that zelda made it herself. that was good shit!

also the egg glitched out like. a LOT. idk what the fuck was going on with the poor thing but there was multiple times during a cut scene or when i was just sitting there that it was freaking out in the background and it was rly weird

elemental overworld boss monsters................. obnoxious. especially elemental guardians like goddamn bro what the fuck

i know warriors’ games aren’t about exploring anyway but the limitations for exploring was really sad/frustrating. this is still somewhat the world of hyrule before the calamity, which is something we’ve always wanted to see. not being able to explore even the immediate area at certain points because of shit like timed missions was really upsetting, man. :( i just wanted to see hyrule castle Before the calamity why was did they have to rob us like that.....

creepy corrupted egg’s transformation. why. what was that. what the fuck

even though i did enjoy the boss fights, it did get. incredibly taxing eventually to have to fight the SAME bastards so many times. like yeah botw is also guilty of this with the blights, but goddamn.... at least i have a choice to avoid certain encounters with them? this game has you fighting the same bitches like upwards of 3-4 times. it was. really annoying tbh. like the fights themselves are enjoyable, but damn we added new characters and it still inevitably lacked variety in boss fights.

no playable kass >:( if he’s available later in dlc then fine but i wish he was playable in the original game. so many random choices you’d never expect are. why couldn’t he also be there >:(

overall:

it will forever have that sour taste for the false advertising attached to it unfortunately, but that aside, i overall did enjoy the game! i think it has a lot to love in spite of the issues i encountered. as someone who has this as their first warriors game as well, it did lend itself to letting me see the appeal of them. idk if i’ll get more, but i do get why they’re so beloved/popular now. it was an alright time, with some amazing highlights that i’m gonna think back on very fondly for a very, very long time. if i had to rate it..... 7/10 

#hw #aoc #hw aoc #hyrule warriors #age of calamity #legend of zelda #botw #danni plays hw aoc #mine #long post #v long post sorry lol i have so many thoughts/feelings

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh Ep 29 S4: Joey Wheeler, Dead Again

It took me kind of a while to get around to recapping again, been some drama on this end due to a couple natural disasters all happening in conjunction with eachother, but thankfully we are back in the green (sort of) there’s still wildfire smoke out my window but at least...at least the fires aren’t getting any bigger.

And it’s a shame we didn’t get to it sooner, because this episode has so many wild things in it, I don’t even know where to start. There was a lot of dueling, so I didn’t have to cap a whole lot...but even within such few caps, there’s some stuff to talk about. Like first off, the Kaiba’s inability to walk five feet without getting attacked by someone.

Seto still winning Brother of the year award even after nearly shooting his bro with real ass lightning. Because remember, this lightning is 100% real. None of these are holograms.

And by the way, a “hologram” just grabbed Mokuba with real ass hands and Seto was like “Clearly still a hologram!” Because that is how deep his denial runs.

Anyways, this is where the Kaibas will be until the remainder of this episode, so we’ll just leave them where they are.

(read more under the cut)

Back at the duel between Mai and Joey, we’re slowly working out what it is the Orichalcos even does.

We have had very little indication you can break the Oricalchos control on people’s minds up to this duel, but because Joey showed heart and bravery or whatever--he’s been slowly chipping away at Mai’s crusty, neon green, outer shell.

(I had a littttle bit of a hunger for some Taco Bell Baja Blast, not gonna lie. A little bit tempted because of that weird color. And now that I’ve eaten popcorn, I am 80% itching to drive to Taco Bell and make some mistakes. But I won’t.)

Comparing this to Pharaoh and Kaiba and their Oricalchos duels (even Rex and Weevil’s) it kind of makes you wonder why this never happened.......to anyone else? I mean, obviously it’s plot reasons, but it would have been a little neat to have some character development for the other villains.

But this unnecessary duel to the death between Joey and Mai spends most of the time screaming about how deep and real their love friendship is. Just a whooole bunch of aggressive friendzoning for the lady who just aggressively hates everyone.

(Haven’t seen much of Yugioh Abridged because it’s spoiler territory but everyone who retweets Joey stuff puts “Brooklyn Rage” in there so I have learned the lingo through osmosis.)

So because, someone’s absolutely going to die, lets start going through all of the flashbacks to remind the audience to feel something when they biff it. Lets recite the times we all spent with Mai.

Remember how they brushed Mai under the rug for 3 seasons, and now that they actually need her, they’re shooting themselves in the foot because there’s actually very little evidence that they like eachother at all?

But they do show those few times they hung out: the camping trip where they almost got burned alive by PaniK, that time that Joey caught her smelling her own cards, that time that Yugi had a panic attack because he was convinced Pharaoh would murder her during a card game, that time that she almost got hit by a fireball and then Joey jumped in front of her.

PS, that fireball scene--they keep going back to that fireball scene but they cut out the part where, yes, Joey jumped in front of her--but then Yugi jumped in front of Joey, and then Yami took over and was like EFF YUGI DAMN IT while he got pegged with fireballs. Like...c’mon, Yugioh, there was a lot of fanservice in that particular episode, and you’re leaving out a majority of the ships.

Partial truth, Yugioh--you’re telling partial truths. If we’re saying friendzoning is a good replacement for some sort of romance, then this show is just a giant geometric shape of “who might possibly like who if they weren’t so addicted to friendship.” This show has “friendship” as the underlying tagline of every episode with every person.

In the process of removing romance--they accidentally made SO MUCH MORE romantic implications in this show. I just feel like this backfired in so many ways. Or...maybe this was exactly what they wanted. And by “they” I mean that one writer who stans Seto Kaiba in the back--just sitting there in the corner of the writer’s room tapping his fingers together and cackling like an evil villain. He knows what he did. Genius mastermind, slipping in his favorite ships by making every ship Yugioh-legal.

And, also the Joey/Mai duel was a lot of this type of questionable content:

Joey Freakin Wheeler.

So I forgot if I mentioned this, but my bro had this friend in college who go struck by lightning not once, but multiple times in his life. He lived in like Virginia or North Carolina--one of the monsoon States, and he’d go on this hike to the top of this mountain--and on two different occasions at the same spot, he got stuck by freakin lightning. So like...Joey Wheelers do exist. There are people out there who just...

They’re just lightning rods wherever they go and their brain is somewhat scrambled eggs because of it.

(PS fun fact I googled just now because I couldn’t remember which state Virginia was, a Virginian by the name of Roy Sullivan was supposedly struck by lightning 7 different times and survived all of them. The more you know. ((PS still on the Google deep dive and the same guy also claimed to have been attacked by a bear 22 times (he’s a park ranger, so that checks) and once he was attacked by a bear immediately after he got struck by lightning which is like some pretty pro strats by said bear.)))

But like...kinda weird that Joey’s now kinda into this, and got super into it during a lovers friendship quarrel.

Anyway, all things come to an end, so Mai decides after enough cards have been played and Joey is clearly about to die...maybe it’s time to just accept not being 1st in the world in cards. Which...would have meant she should have been playing Yugi during this duel but, wtv. She clearly wants to be mad at Joey, specifically.

And I think the show didn’t do such a good job explaining why she was focused on Joey and not any of the other duelists until the very end, but we’ll get there. We’ll finally get to an explanation of why she was so fixated on Wheeler, we just have to wait for him to die first.

Because after the lightning strikes, and after putting so much effort into punching Valon right before this...Joey is too sleepy to continue.

So he’s just gonna die here instead...

2nd time he’s passed out in a duel by the way. Remember that Joey almost beat Marik, but was too damn sleepy after the electrocution? Same situation here. Look at that parallel.

Reminder that Joey STARTED this duel.

It’s like when you’re playing a game with a toddler and then it just passes out halfway and without any warning with it’s face just flat into the carpet.

Anyway, Mai grabs him in her arms sobbing all over him like she just did with Valon and it’s like...damn, this girl can just turn it off and on huh? Like she’s only 100% or -100% when it comes to the relationship meter, huh? No in between?

Mmmm cue that irony that Yugioh loves so much, this entire duel was unnecessary, because all you had to do was yoink that necklace.

Really the solution to dealing with a lot of assholes in Yugioh, to be honest.

This really is what Seto says in the show, by the way--a glitch. I like that Seto does not accept that dragons can feel sadness, and is just ITCHING to patch that out in the next release of duel monsters. I imagine that he’ll make a meeting once this is all over with his code team and at the top of the list will be the demand “Make The Dragons Stop Crying.” triple underlined, bold, and in bright red font. The entire code team will side eye eachother, unsure if this is a literal bug or something that Seto just hears all the time but no one else can hear.

So back at the Joey death fort, Mai decides to finally illustrate with words why she had to go so hard on killing Joey wheeler.

It was because she saw his kindness and his help as a weakness and a failure on her part. Mai, who always wants to be independent and in charge, could not accept that someone else had saved her or would want to save her. Which was apparently why she decided to peace out back at the end of the Marik arc.

It’s a bit of a complicated character for a kid’s show, I’m not sure how many kids understood the pride situation here, but it’s nice they stuck in something that wasn’t just “I want to be the best.” It was more that she didn’t want to be helped in order to become the best.

(PS, there’s this flashback scene where Joey’s like “bye” as she drives away and it was unintentionally a very awkward and funny cut and I may grab that little quip. I have to cap a couple of animations, tbh, I haven’t done that in a while)

So, now that she is fully recovered, she decides to complete the parallel of when Joey saved her in a death coma and now she will do the same (although it is SLIGHTLY different since in this version she kind of absolutely killed Joey Wheeler but...still works). She decides to do the job these stupid boys have not been able to do for the entirety of this season.

(these boots are REALLY well drawn, by the way. OBSESSED with Mai’s boots.)

If only she swooped up Pharaoh and just stuck him on the back of her bike to get this final fight going.

But Pharaoh’s too busy getting lost in San Francisco, and stumbling upon Joey’s dead body.

That this is the season where Yami can do nothing right and it just keeps happening.

No idea how we’re going to resurrect Joey in so short a period of time, but we’re completely out of spooky necklaces, so I guess we can’t do the Pharaoh solution to just...stick him back in there.

Anyways, I’m off to recover from the trauma of my house burning down last week, so I’m gonna go eat a pint of ice cream while I dream of a life before quarantine (was there a time before quarantine? I honestly don’t remember)

If you just got here this is a link to these in chrono order.

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

#ygo #yugioh #recap #episode recap #photo recap #Yugi Muto #Joey Wheeler #Mai Valentine #Tea Gardner #Tristan Taylor #Dartz #The Kaiba's #they were there for a few seconds #and just a million flashbacks to make my life as a recapper much much easier #S4 #Ep29

[malefiquinn]

My Cyberpunk 2077 review

I finished the game last night and I have Feelings™ about it, so here goes my review. While the heavy spoilers (ending related) will be hidden under Keep Reading, I might mention some minor ones here and there, so read at your own risk.

Let’s get the Big Thing out of the way first: yes, the game is buggy af. The good news is most of them are visual bugs, so while annoying, they don’t really matter gameplay wise. But I did have to reload an earlier save file two times to get rid of gamebreaking bugs, both messing with main story quests. It was frustrating. And nevermind the times my car got destroyed because the game suddenly realized there were two cars occupying the same space. However I did manage to finish the game and make the choices I wanted, so it wasn’t that bad either.

My biggest complain is the blantant transphobia shown in the character creator. I know Claire exists and she’s awesome and I love her, but the cc options are just not inclusive enough. What’s the point of having them if you can’t use them anyway? Linking V’s pronouns to voice types makes absolutely no sense. And not being able to remove breasts from the female body type (or put them in the male body type) rubs me the wrong way as well, though I understand that it would involve a lot more animation work. Lastly, having body type-dependant hair styles is just plain inexcusable when the devs took the time to design genitals that are just not shown past the character creator (unless V walks around naked, I suppose). So, why bother having all these ✨choices✨ when the player can’t get a good, accurate customization anyway?

And it gets worse if we talk about romances. Real people have specific tastes and that’s completely understandable, but real life has a lot more than 4 choices in total. More importantly, bisexual people are a thing? There should have been at least one female and one male bisexual romance options in game. So to make it al worse, the constraint in gay romance options is... awful. Why have 3 types of gender-related customization if you can’t use them if you want to romance someone? I’m a cishet female who plays as a cishet female first if given the option, but I’m still bothered for the queer community (which I’m still part of btw, since I’m in the ace spectrum). It feels like being trans is more of a fetish in Night City than a real trait.

Speaking of romances, I played River’s and I found it... bit of a lackluster. I don’t find him physically attractive (shaved head and no beard are not my thing) but his voice was pretty nice and I liked his personality despite being a cop. But the main downside was the way the game treats his romance. I knew I wasn’t going to get a BioWare-style romance, but V’s relationship with River was like a sidenote and once he’s romanced, there’s just no way to interact with him again. That perhaps is the same for the other romances but there’s no replayability, in a sense that there’s no way to talk to/kiss him again or replay the sex scene, for instance. It bothered me that the game forces V to say that “she’s too busy” and apologize to her boyfriend all the time, because *I* would’ve made time to visit if there was ingame acknowledgement of it. The worst bit is that I feel like River’s romance is the least polished of them all, because Panam and Judy play important roles in main quests and Kerry is pivotal to Johnny’s sidequests, while River is... just there (also more further on, regarding the ending). So the fact that he’s like the forgotten child in the romance section while being the only cishet female option is heartbreaking.

The silverlining is that, at least, the mistreated community was het females instead of gay females. Although, this is just another example of game devs thinking about male players first.

Now the good part: what I liked

The cars. I’m not a car enthusiast, I don’t enjoy driving in real life and I’m a terrible driver in games, but I fucking loved the cars in CP2077. The Caliburn was like my game baby, I had so much fun driving around and hearing the different engines for each car, and the differences in driving... it was awesome. I got and bought *all* the available cars for the sake of it, just because I liked them so much.

The story. I love games that get me invested and this one was definitely one of those. Falling for Jackie when I knew he was not gonna be around for long was an expected, but still perfectly excecuted punch to the gut. And Johnny’s guidance and company was something I was hyped about, but still played out even better than I though it would. So to my next point, Keanu Reeves. I was thrilled to play a game with Keanu in it and it blew my mind. Those reviews that pinpoint Keanu’s acting as the weak link in the game are fucking wrong, how else you expect to see (and hear) an angry, resentful man permanently stuck in time? Even worse, when he knows the people he hated the most managed to kill him? I wasn’t happy when I learned Johnny was not a romance option but after meeting him, I’m glad that’s the case. He’s the perfect antihero-turned-best-friend for V, if you can stand him.

Stealth and hacking. Most of the time I choose the option to play stealthy and this time it wasn’t just that, it was the option to use futuristic technology at the same time. I LOVED it. Quickhacking enemies instead of shooting them is so much fun. Enemy detection is a bit wonky at times but still, I enjoyed it much better than if it had been a plain shooter. And those guns with homing shots are so cool that I wanted to play them over sniper rifles, my usual go tos.

The characters. I got invested in V’s relationships, even if the romantic aspect wasn’t as great as it could’ve been. Friendship with Kerry and Panam, clousure for Judy and Rogue, mourning Jackie, being part of River’s family, so many the fixers in existance... and Johnny, my bff Johnny. Even Alt, with her somewhat little role, was great. I was promised a compelling story and deep characters, and I did get both.

The soundtrack. Overall it’s pretty great, but my favorite songs are those related to Samurai. And it’s not even because of my love for Johnny, I really do enjoy them for their musical content. Unironically my all time favorite is Johnny’s as well, Never Fade Away. I won’t exit a car or open the menu when that song is playing.

The easter eggs. From GlaDOS and Silence of the Lambs in the Delamain quests to the Matix-esque pills of the main storyline, to Hideo Kojima and the BB in a lab, “Harvest like a Reaper” and the many “You’re breathtaking!” references (Kerry’s take was my favorite), the game presents A LOT of pop culture nods and I’m here for it. Having real life content creators around for several levels of cameos was a nice touch as well.

So without mentioning the heavy spoilers (aka ending), in my opinion, Cyberpunk 2077 deserves a 9/10. Bugs are fixable and the story and characters carry the game on it’s own because they’re just too good. The main story is kinda short and I believe Johnny’s sidequests should be part of the main story, but I get why they are not mandatory if you want to roleplay a full on dislike towards the rockerboy. But still, there are some things related to gender and romance that are complete misfires. I hope that some of those will be fixed via patches (the character creator bits), but the lack of more romance options or at least bisexual NPCs obviously won’t be fixed and that’s what keeps CP2077 away from a perfect score in my book.

Now, regarding the endings:

The one thing that truly bothered me was that the Rogue one had no real goodbyes for V. She goes into a suicide mission in space and everyone’s post-credit messages complain she just disappeared without a trace? I get she’s dying and all, but, for fuck’s sake leave a message explaining it if you cared so much about them. The game *makes* you care about the characters but doesn’t give you an option to honor that love at the end.

Also, again, romances. I played both Rogue and Panam’s endings so I know there’s no way to have a happy ending with River, which is bittersweet and probably for the best that it happens with him since his romance seems to be the least engaging, but again that makes me feel cheated. Not that they parted ways in the Nomad ending (that was sad, but sad endings are not bad), but that there is no happy-ish ending romance wise for a cishet female. People who romanced Panam obviously stay together with her and those who romanced Judy do too from what I’ve read (and no idea about Kerry’s romance), but not getting that option if you choose to be female and go for a het romance takes away from the game. Sadly. Also my last interaction with River in Rogue’s ending was fucking terrible, I liked how poetic that ending was for Rogue and Johnny until I got to the rest of my V’s life.

(But I still headcanon that River eventually joined V with the Aldecaldos in my canon ending, aka the Nomads’, despite what he said. Since his post-credit message implies he might visit her and stuff.)

As for the rest of the ending... CP2077 clearly states that life isn’t happy and that there’re no happy endings for people who live in NC, so I like that no ending is completely happy since you are bound to die anyway, but. But. It’s somewhat disheartening that the overall arc can be resumed to “all that you did served for nothing, you’re still dying so your efforts were absolutely useless.” I really don’t see how to improve it without defaulting to a happy, sunshine-esque ending that fixes everything, so I don’t know. It still wasn’t exactly what I wanted to hear at the end, so... I liked it but didn’t, at the same time. Ha.

And lastly, I hoped for endgame playability and there is none, you have to revert to an earlier save to keep playing. I get why it wasn’t done, to give a definitive end to V’s story in NC, but anyway. What I really liked about this choice was that no matter the ending, V becomes no one again. They will be forgotten by most people after a while either because they leave with the nomads or because they ‘disappear’, aka die in a blaze of glory in that casino in space. Or well, sell their soul to Arasaka or commit suicide on the rooftop.

So overall, I loved this game and critics are somewhat too harsh. But I agree there are some terrible design choices and a long way of bugfixing to get to the specific masterpiece that we were hoping for.

#cyberpunk 2077 #personal #ivy 'v' kerrigan #since she's in the pic #my v

[komatsunana]

The Chronicles of Exandria: The Mighty Nein I

And so I do what I did the last 2 times for the Vox Machina Chronicles of Exandria books, which you can read [here] and [here].

These posts by no means contain all of the information in these books, but plenty of what would most interest other fans.  This is by no means a replacement for actually seeing the book.

My best guess on up to where this book spoils is episode 46.  Anyone who has not watched passed 46 can read this without spoilers outside of vague references that don’t really matter.

First and foremost, as usual, the artistry is the most important part of the book. All of the lovely fan-created art work is even more beautiful in ink than on screen. This I promise you.

As has been noted by other people who have received the book, it is written as though it was transcribed by Beau’s journals by the Cobalt Soul.  Some unnamed writer(s) from the Cobalt Reserve from Tal’Dorei have written all parts that are not excerpts from Beau’s journals.  There are edits by Zeenoth, which indicate that the book is not a final draft.  Zeenoth is not impressed by their work.

The books’ foreword is a dedication to critters.  I won’t transcribe all of it but it ends, “As always, we are richer for your company.  For truly, what good are stories unless they can be shared?”

Unlike the Vox Machina ones, which started with pages dedicated to Vox Machina and their adventures first before branching out for guest and NPCs, this one’s table of contents shows that everything is scattered.

The first section is dedicated to the Storyteller - accompanied by art of Matt as “The Storyteller.”   An excerpt follows below:

“A story walks the land through the songs and tales of those who are touched by its heart.  And then one day, long after all the players within have met the Matron, a story will be told for the very last time.  Unless, by the Grace of the Storyteller, we are let to it. [...]  Through Ioun’s blessing we make his favorite children immortal.  You hold one of them in your hands even now.  Wake it carefully.”

Thoreau contacted the Cobalt Soul immediately after Beau’s first arrest - presumably the one with Tori.  As the monks took Beau away, Thoreau referred to her as “his misfortune.”  It is also noted in the margins that Thoreau is a good friend to the Archive.

Unlike the rest of the M9 and characters, there are no excerpts about Beau herself from her journal... Because obviously she doesn’t need to take notes in herself.  However the Cobalt Soul write their own notes about her and her reputation in the Cobalt Soul and note... more than a few times that Zeenoth thinks she is aggressive, stubborn, and quick to judge and anger and as a result they can’t put a lot of stock into her notes on other people.  However, Dairon was right to put their trust in her because her insight in invaluable and is quick to call out injustice.

Beau’s note taking is exceptional - and color-coded.

Beau’s first notes about Molly is that he is “not that bright, definitely drunk, completely full of shit, and not nearly as good of a liar as he thinks he is.  His outfit is loud, far louder than the man himself.”  His coat contains iconography from at least half a dozen gods.  Beau also noted that Molly’s swords were interesting to which the footnotes immediately made note that Molly’s swords were just swords.  Beau thought, in her first impression of him, that he might be on the run from a family of Warlocks.

The librarians decided to omit all of Molly’s earlier lies that he told Beau and the group about his background, and instead only described the climbing out of the grave and only able to say “Empty” story.  He had scars and 9 red eye tattoos on him at the time.  

There are sketches of the tattoo in full, after Molly had added to it, but it’s noted by Beau that part of the tattoo is covered by Molly’s hair.  Looking at the sketch, it is implied there are more tattoos on his scalp, rather than just the length covering it.

For Molly’s story of climbing out of the grave to be true, it means that Molly relearned to speak both Common and Infernal, learned to perform his skills and duties with the Carnival, covered his eye tattoos with additional, elaborate tattoos, befriended Yasha, and discovered his innate magic ability to use his blood to infuse his weapons with magic.

Beau had made a list of every book she knew Caleb had on his person or expressed interest in.  This includes the erotic books and the 2 spellbooks. 

On the spellbooks, Beau says she isn’t sure about them. One she knows is a spellbook, but she’s not sure on the other as he never opens it.  She wonders if it is a journal of some kind.

There is a page on Beau’s notes in the first arc with the Fletching and Moondrop Carnival - notes about the victim and all her possible suspects of which it is everyone that is part of the carnival.  All of them have a strike through their name, indicating she had eliminated each of them as a suspect at one point, including Kylre.  

Among the notes she has, my favorites are that Beau thinks that everyone in the circus hates each other, never trust a clown (about Desmond), and that everyone has a title such as Molly “The Ice-Spinner” and Yasha “The Brute.”  Beau also notes Yasha as being human.

Outside of Beau’s notes, the best information to be found about Shakästa “Hush” is from an anonymous book from Deastock titled “Heroic Deeds of the Golden Grin.”  It is because of Beau’s notes that Hush is confirmed to be real, not a myth, once and for all.

Because of how cool Shakästa was with his cool bird, Beau notes “I gotta get a bird.”  So we have him to thank for Professor Thaddeus.

Unknown what deity Shakästa draws power from.

Known members of the Tombtakers:

Lucien Nonagon (Molly)

Cree: currently employed by the Gentleman.  Blood powers like Molly’s.

[A name which as been severely crossed out but looks like it says Tyffinl]:  Currently said to be in Nogvurot.

Otis and Zoran:  Still at large, whereabouts unknown

Jurrell:  Deceased

Some lady spellcaster from Rexxentrum 

The Myriad is currently gaining footholds in Tal’dorei as well.  There is also a written notation by Zeenoth to cross reference the Myriad activity with the Tombtakers, indicating that he believes that the Tombtakers and the Myriad might be connected.

Cobalt Soul theorizes that the blood Cree claims the Gentleman took from the M9 to track them might be a new form of blood-based mutagenetic tracking.

Beau’s first impression of Nott and Caleb’s relationship was that Nott heaped praise on him and that there might be some sort of blood debt or magic going on.

Beau’s early theory on Caleb was that he was hiding from a criminal employer and had done a high-level theft.  She made note to watch if he attempted to side-step certain kinds of work.

Everything about Caleb sounded like bad news to Beau, but because he stuck around to get her out of jail Beau comes to the conclusion that that’s endearing.

Beau has made an observation that Caleb was searching for some kind of information in a book, related to transmutation.  She wonders if bartering to get him into the Cobalt Soul library will get her into his good graces, though she hopes he won’t find out that the library is technically open to all if you ask nicely.

There is an entry (in Beau’s second journal, it should be noted) were several pages were ripped out about Caleb.  This indicates that Beau had written down Caleb’s backstory of killing his parents but she, Caleb, or someone else had ripped it out before it got into the hands of the Cobalt Soul.  The Cobalt Soul draws the conclusion that Caleb is connected to organized crime.  They are also unable to find anyone born with the name Caleb Widogast in the Empire and they believe it to be an alias.

There are written notations that say that at least one of the ripped out pages were recovered, in which Beau describes the night Caleb told her and Nott about killing his parents.  Both mentions of Trent Ikathon’s name were crossed out until illegible.  Beau was unconvinced that Caleb’s memories after killing his parents aren’t still jumbled (rather than missing).

Fun fact!  All of the Caleb illustrations in his art section all either have fire or Frumpkin in them.  Because when you boil down Caleb to his essentials that’s all I’m saying.

The strangest thing about the M9, as far as the Cobalt Soul is concerned,  is that they have a goblin among their party.

Beau also wonders if Nott’s relationship with Caleb isn’t also out of love or blind loyalty.  Upon finding out that Nott feels like the parental figure (rather than the other way around, as Beau had assumed) Beau wonders what it is that Nott wants Caleb to be stronger for... Revenge? Or to change herself.

Beau notes that while Nott might have named herself so to call herself not brave, Beau thinks she is pretty brave.  She describes Nott diving into the water for Fjord’s arc twice (even if she complained the entire time) and Nott saving Jester from the blue dragon which “absolutely saved Jester’s life.”  Nott is very focused on everyone remaining together as a team.  Beau believes that while Nott’s loyalty to Caleb has not lessened, her loyalty to the rest of the party has extended to them all.

“I think we might all be her kids now.  It’s kind of sweet, in a really weird way.”

Zeenoth is extremely salty their junior drew lots of buttons instead of researching the crossbow Nott got from Hupperdook.

A list of all phrases that Beau noted in her journals that Kiri had learned in her time with them.

Welcome to the Mighty Nein!

I am Kiri!

Yes, I am very sweet.

It’s sharp.

Ooh, I’m a captain.

Where do babies come from?

Fire! Fire! Fire! Fire!

If it bleeds, we can kill it.

I killed people!

Get into trouble!

She’s probably a good egg.

Go fuck yourself.

Zeenoth is VERY upset about the word fuck and wants that entry removed.

Beau thinks Calianna is too polite.

Cobalt Soul believes there is at least one other bowl like the one Calianna destroyed with the M9.

Beau hopes they don’t pick up any more stragglers, as she thinks it is getting crowded.

Cobalt Soul theorizes about why Keg had a four o’clock shadow rather than a proper Dwarven beard, wondering if she wasn’t forced to shave.  This indicates that beards are normal on female dwarves.

Beau thinks Shady Creek Run is so called because it’s full of shady criminals, but the Cobalt Soul notes that Shady Creek Run has a creek that is in near constant shade in the abundant pine trees.

On Molly’s death Beau says:

“Fuck.   That went horribly.  We lost Molly, and I don’t know what to do. [This part is crossed out: Maybe if I had-] I’m trying my best to stay objective.”

Beau also crosses out “I’m starting to like her” about Keg, and replaces it with “She’s fine, I guess.”

On Nila Beau says: “She said something really nice about Molly.  How in her clan, someones spirit never leave you.  They return to nature, and are forever by your side.  I don’t know if I believe it, but I like the thought.”

Beau wants her own “lucky smell bag” that’ll make decisions for her.

The Blooming Grove was built post-Calamity.

Beau’s first impressions of Caduceus is that he is both grounded and flighty.

Because Caduceus hasn’t eaten meat or alcohol in the time she’s known him, she thinks he’s got to have some sort of vice.

Because of Beau’s talk with Caduceus after killing the blue dragon, Beau remarks that she likes her edge and doesn’t want to lose it and go soft. But maybe it is a better, more efficient way of doing things by being there for the M9. “Gross.”

There is a note in the margins telling the editor to contact Archivist Demid (AKA the guy studying the moons) for information on the Dust family.  This indicates that he may have some special information.

Because of Jester’s defacing every town she visits, the Cobalt Soul has been able to track the M9′s movements.

The Cobalt Soul’s 2 working theories on the Traveler is that he’s a smaller/younger deity either from folk tales about a cloaked figure that either rewards or punishes heroes with a ironic twist OR a god of vandalism.

Zeenoth notes that if the Traveler IS a god of vandalism... they may have a secret follower in their ranks because of all the smut doodles in their books lately. Which of course Jester probably drew.

Beau says that as Jester told the group about her prank causing her to have to flee from Nicodranas she was full of her usual bubbliness... But was starting to see that there was underlying sadness in Jester.

Beau has known Jester has had a thing for Fjord since they first met, but after she got Tusk Love it became full-blown infatuation.

“Fjord seems super oblivious, though, which isn’t surprising for a man who occasionally wakes up covered in seawater and confusion.”

Beau stands by her and Jester’s purchase of the owl and blink dog, but she wonders how long the weasel is going to last in their line of work.

Beau wonders if it’s weird to be attracted to your friend’s mom and comes to the conclusion it is so she’ll back off... But the Ruby is smoking hot.

Beau can also see why people who want to release and evil god for Avantika. Not that she would. “She’s hot, but come on.”

No really new information on The Plank King is revealed in his section, but quite a bit is crossed out until illegible.  This could detail what connection to the Cobalt Soul he has, but was redacted.

The Cobalt claims that while the M9 titled a leader, Fjord often took that position.

Beau is making direct reports on Fjord to the Cobalt Soul and his connection to Uk’otoa.  In her latest report, she says that they’ve bought some time until their next trip to the sea............

Waiting for the rest of the M9 to come out of the Happy Fun Ball, after fighting the blue dragon, are among the rest worst few minutes of Beau’s life.

Beau believed Twiggy that she killed the blue dragon, in part because Caduceus believed her.

Beau accidentally writes “cute and dry” instead of “cut and dried” about Yasha’s background.

“For someone dressed in greys, who carries herself like a dark cloud, Yasha sure seems drawn to color and light. I wonder where it stems from.”

On Yasha being tested by the Stormlord by the “man made of lightning” the Cobalt Soul says it is not uncommon for the Stormlord to test his disciples through acts of physical, mental, or spiritual exertion.

The final notes by Zeenoth indicates that whoever wrote the book (outside of edits from Zeenoth himself and excerpts from Beau’s journals) were by someone from Tal’dorei.  Who might it be? Someone we know?

#critical role #critical role: the mighty nein campaign #cr #the chronicles of exandria #critical role art book #i scream #my crit role feels #long post

[tinkdw]

Thoughts on 15x07

Lee and Dean:

Lee is a relic of Dean’s past. The minute he said he liked John and Dean revealed John liked him we knew he was bad news. IMO the triplets thing foreshadowed for him lieing and being greedy as the monster of the week. Now I’m not saying this is def what happened as I say it is totally vague, but it fits with the whole monster thing.

The way Lee reacted when Dean talked about hunters usually dying was great, again he showed his bad guy traits, he was being shifty because he had decided to ensure that didnt happen to him by killing people. As I’ve said in another post, he was almost SO obviously the bad guy it made me question if this was a Chuck led episode given the blatancy of it (as well as Dean being constantly hit on and the two young hot women being the cold open).

This episode gave us Good Ol School Dean and his buddy, having laughs, drinking, being hit on and performing (literally) and it all going to shit. Because ultimately this isn’t Dean anymore. It showed us how much Dean has grown into himself and chosen who he is and what morals he wants to abide to.

He didn’t kill Lee because daddy told him to, quite the opposite John LIKED Lee and Dean had liked him, but Dean chose to follow his own free will decided on morality that Lee was a monster and had to die to prevent innocents being hurt. Dean called the shots here. In the end it was all about his CHOICE. His choice to kill Lee and his choice to help people. That is hugely important for his endgame.

Dean and Cas:

Dean telling Cas in 08 that he probably made it all worse is an excellent continuation of a theme. Thanks I hate it.

I heavily side eye Angel(a) being killed / raptured while her bff was blind drunk as a Cas / Dean mirror foreshadowing so watch that space imo.

The line about best friends don’t leave unless there’s good reason nearly had my eyeballs popping out of my head with the resonance just before he went back and saw Cas, who having been pushed away by him wouldn’t even look him in the eye. Dean KNOWS Cas left because of a good reason, he knows he fucked up. Now it’s time to fix it.

SAM:

Omg HAPPY SAM I DIE OK? I was not calm for like 10 mins after this scene. My heart!

Now I’m going to add something from another post as I think a very important scene here was the kitchen scene. For Sammy that scene shows his desire for a partner, his desire for domesticity, his desire for a partner he doesn’t have to hide who he is from, his desire for an equal partner, one he can be proud of and support, not just who supports and is proud of him but a fantastic person in their own right and equal to him, this is important, they share the cooking, they shared making the margaritas, that’s an important factor for Sam, he’s always been drawn to strong independent women who know their own mind and stand up for themselves and their opinions (and others) and Eileen literally being the voice of reason like EW! And SERIOUSLY? It’s dangerous? What the fuck are you guys doing?!

Now as he’s getting over his demon blood / Lucifer trauma bit by bit, and hurtling towards his endgame, his coping mechanism for this can start being let go (his clean eating and fun free lifestyle). And lo and behold Eileen arrives (coincidence!) and alongside his already working on his recovery himself, she’s helping him too (and it’s no coincidence they wrote her as sent to Hell to help him cope with his PTSD alongside her) - Sam’s allowing himself to have real bacon and margheritas and have fun? The metaphor is starting to be complete.

Cas:

Can I just squee about Cas and Eileen as perfect Winchester additions please and thank! Now as I say Cas seems to really be breaking eggs in these episodes as well as everything since Jack really, he’s made some strong decisions and yep they have sometimes worked out and others not (Tho that’s just normal in this show lbr) but ultimately this is a pattern now close together and should be relevant towards endgame as we’ve already discussed Cas us Chuck’s blind spot and clearly the catalyst to his whole big bad plot line. I’m also side eyeing his wavering sometimes they work sometimes they don’t powers and his belonging arc.

Can I say that at first I was like mmm why about Sergei being involved as ultimately that whole thing could have been done without him but I headcanon he’s there for the exact reason @norahastuff said in their great post as someone for Eileen and Cas to smoulder and be badass at and hell that’s cool by me ;)

Id also like to point out that we know how much effort jeremy put into this episode with so many callbacks (eye of the tiger, point one and b, yellow fever etc). And the pacing, storytelling and mix between tfw scenes was fantastic.

So all in all, I’ve probably forgotten some major points I yelled about to my friends but I have zero time to rewatch I’m sorry! These are the main things I remembered and absolutely loved. Jeremy did a fantastic job!

#spn 15x07 meta #i was convinced to post it ok. its short and crappy sorry its all i have time for while i have a quick bath before bed and the next feed 😔

[izaswritings]

Title: Faults of the Mind

Synopsis:  Having escaped the perils of the Dark Kingdom, Rapunzel finally returns home—but all is not well in the Kingdom of Corona, and the black rocks are quickly becoming the least of her troubles. Meanwhile, over a thousand miles away, Varian struggles with new powers and his own conscience.

The labyrinth has fallen into rubble. A great evil stirs in the world beyond. The Dark Kingdom may be behind them, but the true journey is just beginning—and neither Rapunzel nor Varian can survive it on their own.

Warnings for: cursing, threats of harm, aftermath of trauma, references to past blood and death, and references to past character injuries.

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AO3 version is here.

Arc I: Labyrinths of the Heart can be found here!

Previous chapters are here.

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Chapter V: The Answer

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The lovely Moon, however, did not agree.

For three mornings and nights, the Sun lingered at the edges of the sky, hoping desperately to see the woman once again. But Moon was not there, hidden away with the shadows, and each day Sun left the horizon a little dimmer, a little more heartbroken. Still, she did not give up hope. Her heart, forever filled with light, rallied against her despair.

And on the other side of the great sea, concealed in darkness like a cloak, the Moon hid still, not wanting to be found. For the Moon was a secret being, often reclusive, and dancing was as dear to her as her own heart. That she had been seen embarrassed her terribly. That she had been seen dancing by a beautiful stranger, who had looked upon her with such awe…

And though the Moon thought she should simply run away, and hide from this stranger forevermore, something bid her to stay. Maybe it was the honest wish in Sun’s eyes, visible even from a distance. Or the lingering warmth of Sun’s smile, before Moon panicked and ran.

Perhaps it was the memory of her song.

And so the Sun continued her fruitless search, and deep in the shadows, unable to pull away, the Moon too slowly began to fall…

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.

For the first time in months, Varian wakes with the sun.

Light streams through the guest-room window, falling bright and clear across his face. Beyond the frosted glass, the early morning sky blushes pink and new, clear and cold but for a few distant swaths of cloud. Though the wind rattles at the panes, it’s locked up tight, and the room is warm and cozy. When Varian rises to press his hand against the window, it is icy, and his touch leaves a faint imprint behind, the heat of his palm melting through to the frost.

It’s… peaceful.

Varian wonders at that thought, turns it over in his head again and again, examining it at all angles like a shiny new toy. He feels—not great, technically. His eyes are hot and gummy from lack of sleep, and his cheek still aches with a faint bruise, and his body is sore from the market… and yet. There is a stillness to it all. A sort of softness. Not like something has settled, but as if, for a moment, it has hushed.

He’d cried last night. Like a child, Varian thinks, with some secret curl of shame. When Yasmin had returned to the bathroom Varian had been hunched over Ruddiger, almost hiccupping from the sheer amount of tears. It hadn’t been all her fault—hadn’t been sparked entirely from her words, or her questions. Part of the breakdown had simply been from everything. In that moment in the middle of the night, it had all finally struck him, and sunk in.

Yasmin had said nothing upon seeing him. She had pushed him no further. The rest of that midnight makeover had gone almost mind-bogglingly mundane. After the haircut and impromptu lecture on proper nail care, as well as a long-overdue bath, she’d sent him off back to bed without any more comments about Corona or the attacks or anything. And when Varian had returned to the room, tired and reluctant and secretly terrified he’d open the door and see Adira sitting there… he’d entered to find her cot untouched and the room empty.

He’s not sure when he passed out—sometime around three in the morning, maybe—but now he is awake again, facing the day, and there is something lighter in his chest. Maybe it was the exhaustion, or the bath, or the drowsiness that comes from crying all the conflict right out of you, but for once, Varian’s sleep had been completely and utterly dreamless.

He exhales hard, watching his breath fog on the glass. His eyes are still sore from crying, and he rubs at them preemptively, sucking in a deep breath. With the dawn all his fears feel lighter, farther away. His head isn’t as fogged.

Day two, start, he thinks to himself. Gods.

Varian turns back to his cot, and sits to give Ruddiger a good head scratch, and then finally sets about getting dressed. He waits for Ruddiger to find his usual perch on Varian’s shoulders, then snatches up the yet-unfinished nightlight—hollow crystal and unpoured glowing solution—and heads down to the kitchen.

Ella is already there, cooking breakfast, and she looks up with a smile when she sees him. “Just in time,” she says, and goes to hand him a plate full of cooked eggs and fresh-cut ham, still sizzling slightly from the pan. She pauses when she sees the crystal in his hands. “Oh?”

“Um… Yasmin said you had something to seal it…?”

“Ah, the nightlight! Yes, she mentioned it.” Ella holds out her hand. “I can do that right now. Watch the eggs?”

Varian hands it over, biting back any fretting—the nightlight solution is already mixed and glowing, no extra steps necessary, she can pour the damn thing without issues, he’s just being silly—and hesitantly takes the spoon she offers him. Bacon and eggs. Shouldn’t be too difficult, right? Surely he’s gotten better at cooking since two years ago, when Dad banned him from the stove.

Ella returns five minutes later to three burned eggs and extremely crispy bacon, and Varian standing bright red in front of it all.

“So,” Varian says. “Bacon, um, bacon does not cook better with 300 degrees—trying to concentrate the heat was a bad idea—it does, uh, cook faster though, but. Um. Sorry.”

Ella is badly trying to hide a smile behind her hand. “…I’ll salvage it,” she says, muffled laughter in her voice, and hands him the sealed crystal. “Go, go, eat.”

Varian settles down at the table, still red in the face, and distracts himself by turning the finished nightlight over in his hands. Ella has put a lovely silver clasp on top, sealing it shut, with a little loop so he can hook it on a necklace chain or on his belt. The nightlight itself has a soft pale pink shine, warm and comforting, and it radiates quiet warmth in Varian’s hand, the crystal comfortable in the curve of his palm.

Varian eats his breakfast slowly, rolling the crystal absently against the table and keeping one eye on the stairs. He hasn’t seen Adira at all yet, not since yesterday, and he’s not really sure if he can face Yasmin yet, either.

It’s not that he’s avoided thinking about what Yasmin said to him yesterday, Varian tells himself. That question of forgiveness and redemption. It’s just… he doesn’t really want to think about it right now.

(He doesn’t really have an answer.)

Still. For all his watchful wariness, he jumps when he sees Yasmin stomping downstairs, and goes absolutely still when she marches up to him.

“Awake at last, are you,” Yasmin says critically, and eyes him up and down. “Well, I see the night has done you well—and you are clean at last, with a nice haircut to boot, if I do say so myself. Fantastic.” She claps her hands. “Come along. I have one last thing for you, and then I must be off. Chop chop.”

Varian hurries to his feet, ruefully thinking on how this is already becoming a habit. He’s only been here for two days, come on. “Wait, where are you going?”

“The city, obviously—with luck, the authorities should know much more by now, and I hate to miss on information. Now, hurry up!”

He follows her upstairs, wondering, but this time instead of her bedroom Yasmin shoves her way in a smaller side room squeezed in at the end of the hall, thus far unexplored. Varian peaks his head around the doorframe, interested despite himself. It’s a small, cluttered room, devoid of proper furniture, with only the bare frame of a bed stripped of sheets and mattress, and boxes piled up underneath. Yasmin is kneeling by the bed, and as Varian watches she picks out one chest and drags it out with a grunt of effort.

“Must be something useful still in here,” she’s muttering, pawing through the chest. “Hmph, too fancy, too old, too big… ah-ha.”

Varian likes to think himself adaptable, but even he has to take a moment to blink at the… thing Yasmin is holding up to him. “Uh… what is this?”

“New clothes. Obviously.” Yasmin stretches the shirt out, tilting her head critically. “You are nearly exactly the size Devdan used to be at your age. Yes, this will work. I will barely have to tailor these at all.” She tosses the shirt at him; Varian fumbles to catch it. She turns back to the chest. “Hmm, let’s see…”

“I don’t need new clothes,” Varian protests, half-hearted. He looks down at the shirt. It’s soft in his hands, off-white with a high collar and stiff sleeves. It looks… fancy. “And who’s Devdan?”

“I suppose you could call Devdan my nephew. Unofficially speaking. The son of a dear friend of mine. They stayed here, for a time, much as you are doing now.” Yasmin holds up a vest, now, and squints at it in the light. “Does not matter, you are not meeting him, he is in Arendelle with his father and none of your concern.” She eyes Varian up and down, gaze lingering on his threadbare hems, and sighs. “And you most definitely need new clothes. Those do not fit you at all.”

Varian picks at the hem of his shirt, unable to argue with that. His shirt, his pants… even his boots are all either cheap hand-me-downs or whatever he and Adira could find on the road, and none fit him properly, or even really keep him warm. Still. “I want to keep the coat.”

Yasmin gives the coat in question a stink eye. Varian shoves his hands in the pockets, offended on its behalf. “It’s a great coat!” he insists. “Heavy trench coat! Lots of pockets! It looks awesome!” If it were made of stronger stuff it would even be perfect for alchemy, like his old one was, but as it is this coat works just fine. He likes the pockets, the way the sleeves pool over his hands; it’s something he can hide in, and there’s a comfort in that.

“It is practically eating you,” Yasmin says, scornfully.

“I—I’ll grow into it!”

Yasmin’s whole face scrunches up at that, doubtful, but at last she shakes her head. “Fine, whatever, they are your bad fashion choices.” She shakes out the vest she is holding. “But I am getting you at least one nice outfit before you go, boy, so help me gods.”

Varian rolls his eyes.

The morning passes quickly after that. Varian tries on three pairs of boots and finds two that are both sturdier and better fit than his current ones, and Yasmin hands them off immediately, waving off Varian’s protests like smoke in the air. “I am being paid for this,” she snaps, at last, when Varian’s hesitance apparently gets too annoying. “I would have bought you new clothes entirely if not for the damn pirate attack; be grateful I have now been limited to hand-me-downs only. Honestly!”

Another few minutes of hemming and hawing over clothes later, at last she and Varian come to an agreement. Yasmin takes up the new outfit with the promise to have the clothes tailored and ready for wear by the time he leaves, and then pushes him out of the room without fanfare.

“That’s that,” she says, when Varian stares at her blankly. “The last of what I needed to do with you. The rest of the days are yours. Have fun, or whatever you angsty teenagers like doing these days.”

Varian splutters. “Angsty—?”

And all too soon, Yasmin is gone again, out the front door and into the unknown without any set time to return. With nothing more to do and the rest of his stay looming over him, Varian stands at the cusp on the staircase and hesitates for a long while. He’s been left here again, in the house with only Ella and Adira—who he has still not seen—for company.

He thinks he should probably find Adira. He thinks he should probably say something to her. Varian thinks very hard on this. He brings a hand to his bruised cheek—now molted green and pale yellow in the daylight—and in the end he goes to sit outside, back out on the front porch, watching the waving grasses and the wind play around the garden.

It’s not running away, Varian tells himself. He draws his knees up to his chest, inhaling the crisp morning air. It’s not running away if he has nothing to run from. He doesn’t even know where Adira is, right now, so there’s no real way this is running from her. Really.

He buries his head in his hands and groans. Oh, who is he fooling? He… he doesn’t want to see her.

She’s never hit him before.

He’s not entirely sure what to do about it—what to think about it. Nothing about that moment seems quite right to him. He’d panicked and summoned the rocks, all utterly without thinking, and then Adira had… but at the same time, he thinks, she hadn’t seemed angry. He’s pissed her off before; he’s broken down and yelled and been a brat, and the most she has ever done is snap back at him. So this—this wasn’t anger, he thinks. But in a way that is almost worse. Anger Varian can understand. But—fear?

He doesn’t know how to imagine Adira afraid. Something in him recoils at the very idea. Adira can’t be afraid. She can’t be. She’s too—confident, boastful, annoying—she’s too strong. She can’t have been afraid. Because if she was… if she hit him out of fear, of either Varian or the rocks… if Adira was afraid…

From the moment he met her, all those months ago at the edges of the Dark Kingdom, Varian had always thought Adira knew what she was doing. For all that she bothered him, angered him, infuriated him—he could trust in that. Adira would know what to do. She may not tell him what that was, but she still knew it. But now… now he isn’t so sure. Now, with yesterday in mind, everything comes into sudden focus.

What if, Varian thinks. What if Adira is just as lost as he is?

What if she doesn’t have the answers?

That terrifies him most of all. Before, the question was how to get her to give him the answers. Now it is a question of whether there is an answer at all—and he hates that. He hates that. He doesn’t even want to think about it, and at that thought his fingers tighten on his sleeve, and Varian buries his face in his arms.

Adira was right, he realizes, sudden, cold. I really do just run away.

Not just from her. Not even just from Corona. He’s running from everything else, too. The Moon—the rocks. Varian is still trying to run away from it all. The Moon is stronger than him. The rocks are stronger than him. The pirates, definitely. It’s all so much, all so big, and Varian is just one person. Fifteen years old, nearly sixteen, and yet in these past few months he has felt so small.

He doesn’t have that surety, anymore. That old, fanatic confidence in what was right and wrong and what had to be done. He doesn’t even have alchemy, or his gloves. And worst of all—

What will you do if you can’t be forgiven?

(The mirror, bright and silver, and every time he sees a flash of himself in the reflection his eyes turn away. We all have to face the mirror at some point, Yasmin had said, and she is right— but it is easier, still, to look away. To pretend he isn’t there. To pretend that person staring back isn’t him.)

Worst of all, Varian thinks, is that he doesn’t know what he’ll do. If—if he goes back, and apologizes, and is hated anyways. He’d like to be—better. He doesn’t want to be the person he used to be. But can Varian even trust himself anymore? How does he know what the right thing is? He’d thought he’d known before, and look where that had gotten him. He’d hurt people. He’d been… cruel.

And at the time? Varian had wanted to be that person. Varian had liked it.

What is to stop him, he thinks to himself, cold all the way to his bones—what’s going to stop him from becoming that person again?

Maybe this is why he’s running. Maybe this is why Varian can’t face Corona, or the rocks, or the Moon. Maybe it’s because he knows, deep down, that this dream of redemption is probably never going to last.

Maybe. Maybe. The very idea makes his throat go tight, his eyes burn. Varian presses his hands against his eyes, breathing deep. Ah, stupid. So stupid. This is what happens when he thinks about stuff—this is what happens when he stops running from his thoughts. Stupid, stupid, stupid…

“Something wrong, Moony?”

The thought ends, his mind abruptly blank. Varian flinches, going stiff, and snaps his head back to stare. His breath catches. Adira. She’s standing in the front door, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, looking down at him. Her head tilted in question. He—he hadn’t even heard her come up—but he’s been so out of it lately, that’s probably no surprise.

It doesn’t matter. She’s here. She’s… here. She’s here, and she’s waiting for an answer.

His mouth goes dry. His cheek throbs with a fresh ache of pain, and Varian fumbles for his words, struggling to wrench his mind back to conscious thought. “U-um, I…”

Nothing. The words die off.

Varian presses his lips in a thin line, and looks away, staring hard at the ground. The silence stretches.

Adira sighs, so soft he almost misses it. Her feet thunk heavy on the porch steps; she sits down beside him, gingerly, and Varian would flinch, except—she’s not next to him. Not really. She sits a few feet away, and the distance makes it easier.

Varian peeks out at her from the corner of his eye, trying not to move his head. He thinks he should probably say something, but his mind is abruptly free of thoughts, and anything he can think to say… isn’t very kind.

Adira isn’t looking at him either. She sits with her elbows propped on her knees, staring grim at the horizon line, her gaze distant and seemingly lost in thought. Blue breaks bright across the morning sky; sunrise is almost blinding. Even now Varian’s every breath mists like he’s breathing fire and smoke, but the sun shines so bright that he can feel the touch of warmth, beating through even the chill.

She doesn’t speak. The silence settles. Varian watches Adira and Adira watches the horizon, and slowly but surely, Varian relaxes. He rubs his shirt hem between his fingers and then settles Ruddiger more firmly on his lap, hugging the raccoon to his chest, and finally looks away, not quite willing to turn his back to her but feeling at ease enough to turn his gaze.

“Well?”

Varian jumps. His head snaps around to stare. His shoulders hunch. “What?”

Adira snorts. “I wasn’t just asking to start the conversation, Moony. You seem like you’re…” She eyes him, up and down, and shakes her head. “Spiraling,” she decides.

“I was thinking.”

“Hm. Well, don’t do that, then.”

“Don’t think?” He wants to be scandalized; bizarrely, instead, he has to bite back a laugh. It’s just so ridiculous—even when trying to fall asleep, Varian’s mind has always run at a million miles per hour.

“Don’t mope on whatever is making you look like someone stabbed your cat,” Adira corrects.

“I don’t own a cat.”

“Gods.”

“No, but I don’t—”

“Varian.”

He shuts up, turning away. He has to bite back a tiny smile.

“And now you’re feeling well enough to mess with me,” Adira mutters, but she sounds more bemused than truly annoyed.

“I don’t feel well at all, actually.” His voice is light, airy. Varian ruffles his fingers through Ruddiger’s fur. “I couldn’t sleep. I cried all last night.” He scrunches Ruddiger’s face between his hands, scratching under the racoon’s chin. “And my face really, really hurts.”

Silence.

There is a long pause. Adira shifts. “Ah. I deserved that, I suppose.”

“Mm-hm.”

“… I didn’t come out here just to bother you.” Varian squints at her. Adira raises a judgmental eyebrow back. “No, I didn’t. Honestly.” She shakes her head, the words trailing off, and there is another long, awkward pause before she finally speaks again.

“I came out here to apologize.”

Varian goes motionless, caught off-guard. He eyes her, sideways, and his lips press thin. This is uncharted territory, and he isn’t sure if he likes it. “…What?”

Adira’s eyes drift away, fixing back on the horizon. She shrugs. “You heard me,” she returns, mild. She leans back, stretching out her legs, her elbows propped up against the porch steps. Her expression is resigned. “But I’ll say it again, if you need to hear it twice.”

Varian watches her. Adira sighs, then turns and looks him square in the eye. “I’m sorry, Varian,” she says. Her voice is strong, each word intent. “For yesterday. I shouldn’t have hit you.”

Varian looks away first, unsettled. He’s not sure what to think of this—not sure what to make of the ease of it all. She says it so plainly. Like it’s easy. It makes something small and petty deep inside him go tight with a weird kind of envy.

But all he says is: “You hit me all the time in training.”

“That’s different,” Adira says, simply. “And you know that.”

It is, and he does, but he’d still wanted to hear her say it. Varian draws up his knees, resting his chin against his legs. His cheek aches. He feels suddenly very tired. “It doesn’t matter,” he says, almost mumbling the words. He stares out at the rising dawn. “Not really.”

Adira’s voice is firm. “It matters.”

“I was summoning the rocks. If you hadn’t—”

“There were better ways to handle that.” This time, it is Adira who falters. For a moment she almost seems to stumble, fumbling for the words, and the sight is so bizarre—so unlike her—that Varian can’t help but stare. Adira looks away. “I—I will admit that I… panicked. Forgot myself. Whatever.” Her voice hardens, frustration turned inward. “It’s no excuse. It should never have happened, but it did, and I’m sorry.”

Varian turns back to Ruddiger, curling fingers into soft fur. Ruddiger noses at his palm. “I thought you were too great to make mistakes,” he says, only slightly sarcastic, and he can hear Adira roll her eyes.

“Moony, half the reason I’m so great is that on the very rare occasions I make a mistake, I own up to it. The other half is that, yes, I rarely make mistakes.” She clears her throat. “And… that was one. So.”

“Uh-huh.” Typical Adira. But still— the note of her usual confidence makes him relax. Thank gods. She hasn’t gone completely weird, then.

But then… that does, in hindsight, make her apology uncomfortably genuine. Varian rubs at his hands, feeling something like cold, and tries to forget the look on Adira’s face when she’d hit him. The way she’d looked right through him. “…What does that mean, anyway? Forgot yourself?”

Adira says nothing for a long moment. Varian kicks at the dirt, his chest tight. Typical, he thinks, but this time the thought has no fondness.

“…It’s a long story,” Adira says, at last. She sounds tired. Varian’s head snaps up. “And not a happy one.”

“I don’t really care.” He watches her, intent. “I, I want—” He bites his lip, mentally backtracking. “If you’re really sorry… then tell me. I want to know why.”

“Still manipulative, I see,” Adira says, dryly, and she seems almost resigned. “But… fair enough.” She tilts back her head, watching the sky, and takes a deep breath.

“I have—experience. With the black rocks. What they are… and what they can do, when out of control.” She sighs, heavy, for once sounding almost weary. “You remember the labyrinth? The Dark Kingdom?”

He has never forgotten it. Not even when he really wants to. “…Yes.”

Adira nods. She links her hands. “I grew up there,” she says, simply. “I lived there. I swore to protect it with my life.” She tilts back her head. “And then I watched it fall.”

She waits. Varian says nothing. Adira shrugs, and looks back to the skyline. “As I said. I… panicked. For all of my many, many talents… I am… not good at this.” Her mouth twists like she’s bitten into a lemon. “But again. That’s no excuse.”

Varian pulls up his knees, wrapping his arms around them. Ruddiger scampers up his back, settling warm on his shoulders, but for once the comfort is muted. Varian links his fingers to keep from rubbing at his torn ear, and sighs into his arms. The anger has faded in him, turned ashy and dull, drifting away like smoke. She told him. He asked, and she gave him an answer. He rests his head in his arms.

“It doesn’t really hurt,” Varian announces, at last, to his elbows.

“Hm.”

“Seeing the rocks hurt more.”

“…Varian—”

“But it did hurt, a little,” Varian says, and finally lifts his head. “So. Thanks. For the apology, I guess.”

“…Of course.” Adira shifts, looking uncomfortable. “I… I meant it.”

Yeah. He thinks she really did. Varian nods, and Adira looks away, and this time when the silence returns, it feels a little lighter than before.

Varian stares out into the fields, watching distantly as the grasses bend and break to the breeze. The sunlight is starting to warm the crown of his head, near-uncomfortable. He feels—calmer, now. Like a peace has fallen over his thoughts, a tension unraveled from his shoulders. He looks back to the horizon, the burning blue sky, and wonders which way Corona is from here.

“Are you…” He trails off, hesitating, then tries again. “After you leave here, are you—going to Corona?”

Adira stills. “…Yes.”

Varian ducks his head in a nod, studying his fingers. He remembers the mirror, from yesterday. He remembers staring into his own face, and crying, not even really sure why. He remembers Adira smacking his chest with the staff, pushing him back, her voice like a snap.

This is your problem! You run away!

Is he running away? Maybe. Probably. Yes. But is he right to?

If the pirates really will attack Corona… then shouldn’t Varian be running to Corona? Shouldn’t he want to help?

…He doesn’t know.

And more than that. More than anything else.

Does Varian want to go back?

(He thinks about it. He thinks about all of it. The people of Old Corona, who walked away and left him alone; the King, who lied, who was responsible for the rocks in the first place. He thinks about Cassandra, who gave him a chance and hated him when it all went wrong; thinks about Eugene, smile gone, anger in his voice. Find someone else to lie to you! He thinks about Rapunzel—Rapunzel, who turned him away in the snow; Rapunzel who—who stood tall, and strong, and unwavering between him and death.

Cassandra, who gave him a chance— who wanted things to get better. Eugene, who sat Varian down and told him the truth long before Varian ever wanted to admit it. And he thinks about Rapunzel, who cried in that cave and for a moment must have hated him as much as he hated her, who still held him when he broke down and who offered him her hand in that awful, lonely tower.

Will you come with me?

He thinks about it.)

Varian closes his eyes. He swallows. I’ll go with you, he thinks. How easy those words should be. How simple it should be to say them. And yet.

And yet.

The wind howls. The grasses bend. Adira sighs and stands, and her hand comes down on his shoulder, squeezes not gentle but firm, strangely comforting even so. His cheek burns. He doesn’t flinch.

“You still have time to think on it,” Adira says, quietly. “If not Corona, then Port Caul… or anywhere you’d want to go. Yasmin won’t let you stay here, but she’ll make sure you’re settled, wherever you choose to go. There are other options. Corona isn’t the only road to take.”

Adira pauses. Her hand tightens. “But Moony?”

He doesn’t move.

“Sooner or later, you really are going to have to choose.”

His head lowers. Varian doesn’t answer. And Adira’s voice drops, bitter with something he cannot name, something almost like regret. “You can’t outrun anything forever.”

He wonders what she ran from. He wonders when it caught her.

He doesn’t ask.

Adira walks back inside without another word, and Varian stays there—sitting on the porch, knees to his chest, watching the sun rise and the horizon burn, thinking of home.

.

As rain sleets the darkened streets, Cassandra shivers in the cold and draws her coat closer.

Corona at midnight is a picture of silent beauty, even in the midst of a storm—lit by a soft lantern glow and utterly silent but for the distant whisper of the waves and the wail of the wind through the spiraling streets. But Cassandra is in no mood to appreciate the sights—the sky above is dark and clouded, pouring rain, and the winds are sharp with a lingering winter bite. The mist makes her hair frizz, and even in her warmest coat, she can’t quite defeat the chill starting to nip at her fingers. She smacks her hands together and grits her teeth, and gives her companion an icy glare.

“So,” she says, “mind explaining to me why exactly you called me out here at the coldest goddamn time of the day?”

“Personally, I thought you were immune to the cold…” Leaning against a darkened storefront, Eugene gives her a smile that is almost a smirk, humor bright in his face. “Ice queen! Don’t tell me! Could it be your cold heart is thawing?”

She glares at him, because it is raining and she’s cold and he’s the one who called her out here in the first place, with a rambling letter full of nothing. He’d underlined must tell in person three times, and then written TOP SECRET in the largest letters possible, and for all that Cassandra had rolled her eyes she’s here anyway—and now what, he’s mocking her?

She puts a hand to her sword, and lifts a brow. “I will cut you.”

“Hm. Guess not, then.”

“Eugene.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He straightens up, yawning into his arm. “Don’t get all in a twist; this isn’t fun for me, either. Gods, if only spring could come faster…” He trails off with a sigh. “Look, I’m sorry about all this, but this kind of information—” He shakes his head. “I couldn’t trust it to a letter.”

Cassandra stiffens, clenching her teeth at a sudden flare of heat in her gut. “You—found something?” Bitterness is a sharp bite on her tongue, weighing in her chest. Her thoughts twist and turn. Already. He’s already found something. It’s not just Rapunzel. All of them—in this twisted game they’ve found themselves in, Rapunzel and Eugene are stumbling upon all the answers, while Cassandra…

Her fists clench. Useless. She swallows it back. “What did you find?”

“Well.” Eugene runs a hand down his face. “Lance and I… we got a lead sooner than I thought.” He pauses. Exhales a shuddering, shaky breath. “It’s, um… not good.”

Cassandra watches him. Waits. The rains drums behind them, swept into a downpour by the wind. It pounds at the ground like a hail of arrows.

“You know what Blondie told us about? The people trying to back Corona in a deal?” Eugene meets her eyes. “Well. Have you ever heard of the Baron?”

Cassandra stares at him. The Baron. The biggest crime lord on the continent, with enough power and prestige to have a known name and a whip-tight false legal business. Everyone knows he works shady, but no one can prove it, and it’s made him one of the most dangerous enemies of Corona for that reason: enough power and cruelty to do whatever he likes, and clever enough to escape the law as he does it.

The Baron. Blackmailing Corona. Oh, god. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

“Unfortunately, no.” Eugene holds out a slip of torn paper, and Cassandra takes it, eyes scanning over the words. “This was written by his daughter, Stalyan. And if she’s a part of this, then he is most definitely involved.”

“…This just says Vardaros. How do you—”

“I’m… familiar with her handwriting.” Cassandra stills. “And Lance found a dagger with his crest in a drawer. We’re sure. Like, 99.99 percent sure, but if you doubt the .01 percent—”

“Why are you familiar with her handwriting?” Cassandra straightens. “Wait, how do you even know his crest? If we could identify his shipments from the get-go, the guards would have…”

Eugene winces. “…Oh.”

“Eugene—”

“Well, okay, first off, his crest is a golden spider against a red background, so jot that down. And, uh, I… Lance and I, I should say, we have… experience with—the Baron. Past experience.”

She narrows her eyes.

“Fine fine fine, I was set to marry his daughter, okay!?”

Um. What? “Stalyan?”

“Yes! But I freaked, I left her at the altar, and man oh man, I do not regret it, that family is… anyway, that doesn’t matter. Just, trust me when I say they are definitely involved, okay?”

Usually, such a story would make Cassandra roll her eyes, pinch the bridge of her nose and groan. Of course Eugene was set to marry the Baron’s daughter; of course she is involved in this whole tangled mess of political calamity. Why not? But something about the whole situation grates on her.

Barely two weeks out of the castle, and he’s already—!

The whispers are growing. She feels cold. The distant light of the streetlamps almost seems to flicker, and the rain hums like a song, a mutter of helpless disappointment.

Why does everything go easy for him?

Something in her snaps. “Why didn’t you bring this up sooner?” Cassandra snarls, and steps in close, one hand reaching out to fist in his shirt. She drags him forward. She just barely remembers to keep her voice low, hidden by the downpour. “Why didn’t you say—”

“Excuse me?” Eugene looks startled. He puts a hand over her wrist, his grip tight, trying to pry her off. “What are you— gods, Cass, it wasn’t important!”

Her hands seize up. “Of course it was—!”

“No, it wasn’t!” Eugene looks thrown, caught somewhere between hurt and anger. His hand tightens on her wrist; he twists her off, but doesn’t follow through with the move, prying her hand away from his collar and then holding it up, almost in warning. “It was a long time ago. And it was my business. My past. Stalyan was important in my life, sure, but that was both five years ago and also now not my life. I wanted to move on. So yeah! I didn’t mention it!”

He hesitates, then lets go, stepping back out of range. Cassandra watches him, eyes narrow. Eugene crosses his arms. “Look,” he says, a little quieter. “I get it, okay? I’m sorry for not bringing it up sooner. But it wasn’t important then. It is now, and I realize that, and I���m telling you. Get off my case.”

“I—”

“Seriously, what’s with you today?” He shakes his head, looking her up and down, something like concern furrowing his brow. “Are you… doing okay?”

“Excuse me!?”

“Well, you don’t usually bite my head off at the drop of a hat,” Eugene says, almost wry. He frowns. “And you look… uh. Hey, no, seriously, is everything okay?”

Cassandra’s hands curl, but something in his words strikes home. He seems genuinely concerned, and she turns her face away, shame a sudden spark in her gut. What is she doing? He’s—he’s right. She’s being unfair. He seems as out-of-breath and soaked as she is freezing, which means he must have rushed here as soon as he got the news. Without a coat, even.

He’s right. But that still doesn’t stop the sudden lock in her throat, or the sharp twist of jealousy in her chest, bitter as poison. How can it be that in all this time, she’s found nothing, whereas he and Rapunzel so intimately and effortlessly stumble across the answers? How can she possibly hope to protect them—to stand against the next labyrinth—if she can’t even help them with this?

It’s like they are leaving her behind, like being left in the dark, and the whisper rises again, beating in the back of her mind like a mantra. It’s not fair. It’s not fair.

But that’s no excuse. It’s not Eugene’s fault that Cassandra is useless—she shouldn’t have taken it out on him. He of all people… he’d stood outside that labyrinth too. He’d understand.

“Cass…?”

Her jaw clenches. She turns her face away. Yes, she thinks. Eugene of all people would understand. She could tell him. She thinks, after all this time, all they’ve been through—he might even listen.

But her throat locks up. The whisper curls. He was useless then, but he isn’t now, is he? He’ll just pity you.

And—and just like that, she can’t say it.

“No,” Cassandra says. She shakes her head, taking a deep breath, and meets his eyes again. “No. I’m fine. And—I’m sorry. That was out of line.”

Eugene looks hesitant. “Look, if you need to talk…”

“I’m fine.” She takes another breath. “Just… just tired. Night shifts are hell on earth. And lately, the dungeons have been… bothersome. Everyone’s been fighting, and it’s just… ugh.” It’s not even entirely a lie. Just last week, two prisoners had almost murdered one another for near no reason at all. Strangest of all was that they were usually pretty friendly with one another. Prisons are typically high-temper places, but lately… Cassandra doesn’t know. It’s just exhausting, whatever it is.

“Well, that’s no surprise.” But the joke seems weak, almost lackluster. He’s still watching her. Damn it, he’s not letting this go.

Cassandra fishes for a distraction—and finds it. “Hey,” she says. “This Stalyan thing. Have you told Raps yet?”

Bingo. Eugene looks away. Cassandra crosses her arms. “Eugene.”

“I was hoping you could,” he says, weakly, giving her a hopeful sort of smile. It’s the same smile he uses to con people. Cassandra lifts a brow, unimpressed. “There’s still some stuff I need to check out. Weird jobs floating around, an island to stake out… I can’t come back just yet. But soon.”

Cassandra sighs, suddenly tired. “You should tell her.”

“Cass—”

“Look, I know it’s really the least of our issues, but Raps… really cares about you.” Cassandra looks away, the words heavy. “If you and Stalyan have this complicated past, then she’d like to hear about this from you. Personally. Especially on the off chance we actually meet this lady.”

Eugene slumps. “I know,” he says, sounding tired. “But I’m not sure, if I go to the castle, if I’ll… be able to walk out as easily as I did the first time. Or worse, on the other hand— if I get banned for good…”

Cassandra looks away. She can’t argue with that. Who knows what the King is doing? Rapunzel is holding her silence, and they’re both getting caught in the middle of it. The chains chafe. “That said. I’m not exactly in a good position to talk to her, either.” She isn’t really sure if she wants to, right now, but she keeps quiet on that. It’s not—she doesn’t blame Rapunzel. She doesn’t. She’s just… she just needs some space. From both of them, apparently, given how this conversation is going.

Cassandra comes to a decision. “Write a letter, then. That’s a bit easier, isn’t it? And in that way, it’d still be from you.” She meets his eyes. “She needs to hear this from you, Eugene.”

Eugene looks away first, shuffling on his feet. He pushes a hand back through his hair, still dripping from rainwater. His smile is rueful. “Going for the throat with that guilt-trip, huh.”

“If it works, it works.” Cassandra smirks, for a moment truly holding back laughter. “You should have expected this, anyway. I always go for the throat.”

“Oooh, guard joke.” Eugene rolls his eyes, then sighs again, leaning back against the wall. “I hope we don’t meet Stalyan. Really, I do. She isn’t exactly known for… reasonable action. Or moral rules.” His head drops. He looks tired. “But… you’re right. I should tell her. Uh. Wait a minute for me to write it?”

“It’s not like I have anywhere better to be,” Cassandra says, and she rolls her eyes as she says it, even as the words make something pit in her gut.

Eugene just grins. “Hah, good point. Okay.” He hesitates—and then, awkwardly but sincerely, claps a hand on her shoulder. “But… I mean it. Thanks, Cass. And if you need anything…”

“I know.” Cassandra manages a smile, almost fond. “I got it.”

It’s a happy moment—something warm despite the midnight hour, something bright despite the pouring rain. A moment with a friend. She should be happy. She should enjoy this. She should take comfort in the fact that for all she isn’t contributing, she’s as much a part of this team as before.

And yet. And still.

Her throat is tight. Her eyes fall to the ground. Useless, the wind seems to whisper. The rain drums on in the back of her mind. Always useless. Do you really think you can protect them like this?

Can you protect them at all?

And by her side, unnoticed, her hands curl into fists.

.

Despite Varian’s disdain for it, he has heard tales of magic all his life.

Before alchemy, before logic, before the wonders of science convinced him magic was misconception and the truth lay only in the beakers, Varian was a young child enchanted. Every night, once the sun went down, his dad used to sit him down on the house steps and talk, quietly, of fairytales. Of magic and heroes and long-ago adventures, of daring and clever trickery. But the stories his father had loved most of all, the tales his father told quiet and hushed like a secret—were the stories of radiant Sun and her devoted, lovely Moon.

The tales had never really appealed to Varian, even then. The romance bored him, the magic made him frown, and the happy ending made him sigh. Where was the excitement? The swords? The great battles? But at this his father’s face would crease, would pull into a frown and a faraway gaze, and Varian soon stopped asking.

Of course, he knows better now. Most of Corona—most of the continent—knows not the tale of romance but a tale of mortal enemies, Sun and Moon fighting to the death over the fate of humanity, enemies from the very start. Why Varian’s dad knew and told a different story is a question that, even now, Varian has more guesses than actual answers for—but it doesn’t really matter. That’s not the point.

Days after his talk with Adira, with the sun just set and Varian alone back in the guest-room, he paces back and forth across the cluttered floor and thinks. He is alone in the room but for Ruddiger, whose little head follows Varian back and forth across the floor; Adira is downstairs with Yasmin and Ella, discussing Port Caul. It’s a conversation he’s not keen on hearing about, and so he is here—thinking. Weighing his options.

Varian thinks about Corona, about Rapunzel; he thinks about the labyrinth and the ruins of the kingdom buried beneath it, the symbol on the wall and on his father’s hidden helmet; his dad, dead in the amber. And he thinks about stories. He pivots before he hits the wall, ponytail swinging by his face, and thinks about magic, about legends, and how much Dad’s midnight tales could get wrong.

Magic, he thinks. Magic. He’s never liked it. Can, unfortunately, no longer deny it. It’s the lingering warmth in his chest from his Sundrop reversed almost-death, the icy cold pain in his hand from taking the Moondrop opal. It’s here, it’s part of him now—and it is, also, the rocks.

The rocks, which are now Varian’s. The rocks, which he can’t control.

He grits his teeth, thinking hard, pivoting again before he hits the wall. His fingers itch for chalk—he wants to write—but also, he’s pretty sure Yasmin would murder him in his sleep if he wrote on her walls, so that’s a no-go. Unfortunately.

In contrast to the last few days’ unending trauma conga line, the last few days in Yasmin’s home have been almost dull. After his talk with Adira, that morning of the second day, nothing more of note happens. To make matters worse, this also happens to be the last night. Tomorrow, Adira leaves for Corona. This is it—his last chance. There is nothing more to do. Nothing he can do. Except think, and pace, and wonder.

He has to make a choice.

Varian isn’t sure what choice that is, yet; where he’s going to end up is one, and Corona is most definitely the other, but somehow that doesn’t feel like enough. It’s more than Corona, somehow, and that’s where the problem lies—it’s a choice about the rocks, and Moon, and Adira, and redemption. It’s a choice about mirrors. It’s a question of where he’s going to go next, and all the alchemy in the world can’t help Varian here, as much as he hates to admit it.

It’s a choice about magic.

Because Varian knows: the rocks aren’t going away. He knows this better than anyone. He tried to run; they got him anyway. And if the disaster in Port Caul and the mishap in the gardens was any clue, then the rocks are here to stay.

He squeezes his eyes shut at the reminder, and mid-pivot his hand seizes with a sharp stab of icy pain. Varian stops, winces, and grips his wrist. The Moondrop power, again. It’s always ached more in the nighttime hours, but these last two nights it’s been near-unbearable.

He exhales a harsh breath, looking down at his hand, stretching out pale fingers. There’s nothing there. No mark to prove he ever took the Moondrop in his hand. Except for the missing half of his ear, there is very little to prove he even went on that journey with Rapunzel and the others; of his trial in the labyrinth, there’s nothing at all. Some days, bizarrely, he wonders if maybe he dreamed the whole nightmarish scenario up, those endless days of torture nothing more than a fever dream.

He almost wishes it was a dream. But he knows better.

And he’s been running from that too, Varian realizes then, with a sudden flash of exhaustion. The labyrinth. That awful, nightmare place. The place where he broke. The place where…

(Rapunzel’s offered hand, bandaged and bloody. Her pale smile. The distant glow behind her eyes, and her quiet plea. Will you come with me?

And this, too. Varian, who rose to his feet and took her hand.)

He closes his eyes, breathing deep, and turns away to sit on the cot. His hands are shaking, now—both of them. Not from power, or the cold. Just from the memory. Ruddiger curls up by his side, crooning comfort, but Varian can hardly feel it.

A glint of light catches his eyes, sudden illumination. He lifts his head. There’s a break in the night-time cloud cover, and with the passing of shadow the moon seems brighter than ever. Varian looks at it for a long time, hands lowering in sudden thought.

If he needs to start somewhere… why not start with the source? The cause of his fears, of this panic. The rocks, at the root of everything. The rocks—which he has no control over. And he needs control, Varian realizes suddenly. He needs control, or the next time things go wrong because of the rocks, it really will be entirely his fault.

And more than that—he is afraid to sleep. Not just because of nightmares, now, but because of the Moon herself… and he hates that. Fearing his own dreams was fine, but being afraid of someone else’s? No. He’s sick of her games, her twisted dreams; he’ll stick to his nightmares, thanks. But… he has to sleep sometime. He has to dream sometime. If he’s going to have to face her eventually, then why not on his terms? His way?

The thought is… really, really tempting.

Still—for a moment, Varian is utterly frozen. His next exhale is shaky and thin. Oh, gods. Oh no. He isn’t really thinking of doing it, is he?

He lifts his head. His eyes catch on the window—on his reflection. Wide eyes. Pale face. Clenched fists.

…Oh, gods, he’s really thinking of doing it.

No, no, no. Varian takes a deep breath. He’s not going to panic. He’s not. Adira is right. So is Yasmin. He can't run away anymore. If nothing else, he thinks, remembering the rocks, Old Corona, his dad— he has to try.

His fingers clench, tight fists, and he uncurls them slowly, watching the crescent imprints of his nails fade away. He looks back at his reflection. He takes a breath. Then another. Something burns in his chest—the echo of Sundrop fire, searing away the cold touch of death.

“Moon.”

One heartbeat. Two. His hand stings. His eyes, in the reflection, are a blue so bright it seems almost unnatural.

“Are you there?”

The inside of the house is warm. The candlelight soft and golden. But for a moment his hand aches with an icy chill, and something like a shiver crawls down his spine. The air is weighted. All at once, it is so much harder to breathe.

How interesting.

In the window, his reflection wavers. Tired blue eyes and a grim expression, replaced now by a cruel grin.

Calling upon me so soon, little boy?

Fear seals Varian silent. He has to fight to think. His chest feels numbed, disconnected. He can’t believe she really… she really came. She’s here. He’s forgotten how she felt— her presence like a physical weight; power so strong and malevolent it seems to twist the very air.

He forces the words through numb lips. “I…” He clears his throat. His terms. This is on his terms. He called, and she answered. The thought steadies him. “I—I have some questions.”

Moon barely blinks, but her thoughtful hum distorts the air like static. So demanding. I never promised you answers.

The whispering taunt strikes at something deep within, lost beneath the fear. Varian’s lips curl back, and his hands grip tight at the cot covers. “Tough,” he snaps, before he can think better of it. “I’m going to ask anyway.”

The reflection shimmers. He gets the impression, suddenly, of a person right behind him—the grin bearing down at the back of his head. An icy hand grips his shoulder, fingers curling like claws into his collarbone. White hair, glowing soft as starlight, drifts by his head. This time, Moon’s voice rings clear and cold in his ears. Such rudeness. Such anger. Have you no thanks for your savior?

“Savior?” She is so close it is abruptly hard to breathe, and the walls feel closed in all at once, the labyrinth re-created. Even the window cannot banish the sense of darkness, closing in. Still—his hands clench. The outrage grounds him. “You ruined my life!”

Oh no, child. I’m afraid you did that all on your own. I just came in the aftermath. She circles him, ghostly afterimages fizzing in her wake, like a skip in time. The labyrinth was months ago for you, honestly. Don’t tell me you’re still upset?

Varian grits his teeth. His hand fists in his shirt. He forgets, in this moment, to be afraid.

“You—” he splutters, cold with fury. “Of course I’m upset! You tried to kill me—you practically did kill me! You hurt Rapunzel! You trapped us! You impaled me! And, and everything else—”

Aren’t you over it by now?

He snarls at her. “Are you?”

For the first time, her smile wavers. The Moon’s eyes narrow, and her lips thin, and she turns her head away.

Varian watches her, breathing shaky, and leans back, deliberately putting space between them. He breathes in, a longer inhale. He—he needs to calm down. It’s a bad idea to snap at an immortal goddess, no matter how awful she is. Probably a worse idea to sass her.

But still. The Moon gets to him. Everything she does—everything she is—the labyrinth, the rocks, Port Caul—!

No. No, Varian has to stay calm. He has to try. She’s here, as terrible as this is, and he can’t miss this chance for answers—for the truth. So long as it gets him what he needs, he can sit through almost anything.

When he opens his eyes again, the Moon is looking back at him. In the mix of shadows and moonlight she seems almost ethereal; her eyes glow like spotlights, her hair drifting as though underwater, coiling across her shoulders. Her smile, as ever, is fixed perfectly in place, but… there’s something grim in the expression, now. Something bared, and furious, and seething.

If you called me here just to whine to me, I feel it is important to express a warning. She leans in, and her smile widens; in the glint of moonlight he can see the serrated edges of her needle-like teeth. If you invoke my name in vain again, trial or not, you will not escape the experience in one piece. Her form wavers, beginning to fade. Learn some respect, child, or I will teach it to you.

Varian freezes. Her form is turning ghostly. Through her, in the window-reflection, he can see his eyes flicker back to blue.

“No, I—w-wait!”

Pressure bears down on him. Do not dare to—!

He wheezes, the air abruptly thin. “I didn’t—invoke—in vain or whatever, I—I just wanted to talk!”

A pause. The pressure eases, slightly.

…Talk.

“Y-yes.”

Are you fucking with me, boy?

“A-am I—?” His voice squeaks. Despite everything, he almost laughs. Somehow, he never imagined an immortal goddess knowing modern cuss words. “N-no, no, no. I—I’m not.” His hand seizes in pain; he winces and grips at it. “I really did… just want to talk.”

You have a very funny way of showing it.

He bows his head. He should let it go, he shouldn’t rise to her taunts, but—

But he doesn’t want to let it go.

“You locked me in a labyrinth with someone I—hated. At the time.” His voice is quiet. “You hunted me down, you, you almost killed me—did kill me… and the black rocks, your rocks, they… from the moment they entered my life, it’s all been one big downward spiral.”

Varian curls his fists in the covers. “So yeah. I won’t lie. I… I really, really hate you.”

Cold pricks at the back of his neck. He closes his eyes, willing himself not to flinch. He thinks of Adira, standing tall, staff pointed down—the first training lesson she ever gave him. It’s fine if you hate it, Moony, she’d said then. But that doesn’t mean you can’t learn from it.

And Yasmin, in the market, when he lashed out at her charity: I do not have to like you to do you a kindness.

He is not here to do Moon a kindness. He doesn’t want to help her. But Varian knows enough now to know that this power—the black rocks—aren’t going away. And Varian doesn’t know magic. He doesn’t know anything.

He doesn’t have to like the Moon, he thinks, to learn from her.

“But I don’t think you like me, either,” he continues, and lifts his head, offering a thin smile. Moon’s eyes narrow. “Just a guess. And that’s fine. Whatever your reason.” He meets her eyes, tired blue to unwavering white. “I just… figured if I couldn’t run, I may as well as try and ask you all my questions head-on.”

She doesn’t look convinced, still, her eyebrow lifted in an expression of great contempt, and Varian starts to panic. He lifts his chin, forcing confidence to hide his shaking hands, his mind casting back. The dreams, the dreams—gods, what had she said back then? He can hardly remember. Something about a game?

He chances it. “And you have to admit,” he says, chin up and eyes rolling, trying to force the old arrogance that once came easy to him, “whatever your plans, it’ll probably be way more fun if I actually know what you want me to do, right?”

Silence. The Moon’s eyes narrow further. Her smile is gone.

Varian refuses to look away. His mouth is dry. His throat is tight with the tension, the threat. He meets her gaze and holds it, and his palms are slick with sweat.

A long pause. And then, at last, the Moon shifts.

You are right that I do not like you. The flicker of a crescent smile. If I had my way, your corpse would be buried with my labyrinth… but the Sundrop challenged me to watch. To learn. To… see what I might have missed. I do think she’s delusional, and I cannot wait to be proven right, but… here I am.

For a moment Varian doesn’t understand what the hell she’s talking about—and then clarity strikes. Rapunzel’s comment to Moon in that other world, he realizes. Her declaration that there was no use in telling Moon why she’d saved Varian because the god would not understand. Had Moon—had Moon taken that comment as a challenge?

The idea is laughable. And yet—here she is. Here they are.

Moon reclines in the air, her attention distant, unfocused. And your boldness is amusing, I suppose. And your ignorance in these past few days has… already vexed me.

Her mouth works, as if feeling out the words. Her smile returns, pale, a bare of teeth. Oh, why not? Fine. Ask your questions. I cannot promise you answers… but I will at least hear you out.

Varian almost falls off the cot. He gapes at her. “Really? Are you serious?”

Ah, and now I find my patience waning…

He feels almost scandalized. “Is that a joke—”

Tick tock, child. The brief humor drops from Moon’s voice. Speak your mind or shut your mouth.

“I…” Varian trails off, taken off-guard. He swallows hard. He has so many questions, he has no idea where to even begin. What he wants to know most of all is about the rocks, but… best to start small, he thinks. “Why… why did you warn me about the pirates?”

Hmph. Isn’t it obvious?

“Um… no?”

Moon blinks. …Humans. So limited in their view of the world. She considers him, and tilts her head, gaze distant and thoughtful. Let us just say… in that human city, I sensed a danger too great for you to handle, and hoped to ward you off before I’d have to step in. She sighs then, heavily. As you can see, that worked out spectacularly.

“You… why?”

You think I like the idea of advising an annoying human whelp? The longer you stayed away from danger, the longer I could ignore you. I’d hoped to avoid this part for a while yet. But of course you didn’t listen. And now, here we are. Stuck with one another.

“That’s not my…!” No. No. Stay calm, Varian. He has to stay calm. “…Never mind.” He takes a breath, swallowing down the anger, and changes tracks. “But I don’t get it. Why the pirates? How did you even know they were there, or—or going to attack? It doesn’t make any—”

I could be in the middle of a burning desert at midday on the damn Summer Solstice, and I would still know the touch of that… foul magic. Her lip curls on the words. Her eyes slit, bright with hatred. Of course I sensed them.

“Magic?” Varian shakes his head. “What magic? They were—they were just pirates! Just human!”

Human? Certainly. But you are a fool if you think that it was all it was. Or do earthquakes usually strike a city right when a raid is underway? Such timing cannot possibly be coincidental. The Moon laughs. Dear, stupid child. You should have seen this coming. Why on earth do you think my labyrinth existed in the first place?

“I—” Varian blinks. Frowns. To test Rapunzel, to get what the Moon wanted, to prove Moon right about… something? About humanity? He’s not sure. He had only ever caught snippets. Because you’re a cruel, heartless person and you found it funny? But he can’t say that, she’d probably stab him again, and once was more than enough, thank-you-very-much. “…I don’t know.”

Typical. Well, I will tell you what I told the Sundrop. There is something coming, child. There is a rot that grows forever beneath the deep, and it lingers in this world like a curse, even in sleep. Her voice drops. But now, I fear… it sleeps no longer. It is here. It is coming. The rot’s reaching fingers have finally found our throats.

Her words are low, cold, serious with all the weight of an incantation. Varian stares at her. He doesn’t move. His breath shudders out of him. Realization washes over him, cold as ice. “The pirates,” he whispers. “Corona?”

I have no interest in the games of mortals, Moon remarks. For one, they are usually very boring. But recently, human politics have become… rather interesting. Unnaturally so. I have my suspicions. And I know what I felt, there in that city.

The meaning of her words finally sinks in. Varian looks down, his mind whirling. The attacks had terrified him. Corona at war had chilled him. But this makes something deep within him go small and tight with fear. This is more. This is like the labyrinth—a force more than science, or logic, or even magic. A force that Varian, slowly and reluctantly, is beginning to think of as fate.

“It’s aiming for Corona.”

The Sundrop’s own home? But of course it is. How better to draw her out? If I was not bound to my kingdom, to my Moondrop opal, I would have done the same.

He shakes his head, his mind spinning. “Wait, but—that doesn’t make sense—the labyrinth—”

I had more than my own reasons for the labyrinth. The personal benefits were just a bonus. Though. I admit, by the end, I perhaps got a bit… carried away. Her chin lifts. Fortunately, the situation is salvageable. I have my doubts the Sundrop is strong enough, yet, though she is certainly better suited for what's ahead after my labyrinth, but you…

She looks him up and down, doubtful, and her lip curls. Unfortunately for us both, my kingdom is gone, and so you are my only real conduit. For the moment, anyway. With luck, soon you will no longer be necessary, but for now… well. Do your best to not get speared anytime soon, boy. Replacing you would take more effort than I can spare.

Varian swallows, trying not to react. That—doesn’t sound good, though he can’t say he’s surprised to hear it. The Moon seems to need him, for now… but that probably won’t always be the case. If she made a place like the Dark Kingdom once, presumably she could do it again. Maybe. He thinks.

Ugh, magic.

Varian takes a breath, pushing the thoughts aside for later. Okay. All very interesting information, but… not what he needs, right now. He called for this conversation for a reason. “Okay,” he starts, careful, calm. He straightens his shoulders, and does his best to meet her eyes. “Actually, that was…something I was hoping you could help me with? The not-dying thing.”

Moon’s lip curls. She hooks her chin in her hand and regards him through narrowed eyes. Explain.

Well. Okay, then. “How do I… the, the black rocks.” He steadies himself. “How do I control them?”

A smile flickers across Moon’s face, sly and cruel. Your mishap yesterday. Hah, yes, I sensed that.

He doesn’t like the look of her smile. “…Right. H-how do I stop that from happening again?”

Moon considers him. Her smile widens. He can see the gleam of knife-like teeth, and then she leans back and stretches, laughing softly under her breath. Oh, who can say?

Varian’s eyes narrow. His fingers clench. He has to fight to keep his voice steady. “You, obviously.”

Moon is still smiling. Her eyes glow in the darkness. Don’t get smart with me, boy.

He grits his teeth. “I—”

Your distress over this silly power is amusing, and far more entertaining than your frankly dull nightmares. And I have been so bored… no, on this I don’t think I shall tell you. Have fun finding out.

Varian stares at her, breathless, feeling gutted. She won’t—? And then the rest of her words sink in, and his lips peel back in a snarl. Blood roars in his ears, and for a moment the whole world feels very still, cold and quiet. She is smiling. She is laughing at him. And suddenly Varian wants nothing more than to snap that smile right off her face. He wants to make her bleed.

“I was wondering something else,” Varian says, sweetly, the heat rushing through his head. His fingers strangle the cot covers. “Why do you look like that, by the by?” He gestures, casually, to his face. His hand is shaking. His teeth ache.

Moon’s smile drops at once. Her eyes go wide. Her lips peel back from her teeth. And Varian smiles where she does not, bright and poisonous and angry, and says, “I mean, I’ve already seen the scars!”

Pressure slams down on him. The air goes snap-cold, burning against his skin, and Varian just barely keeps from crying out. All at once, the Moon is no longer distant, no longer ghostly—she is here, she is right in front of him, so furious that the air warps around her very image. For a moment, that smooth façade drops. For a moment, he can see the scars in question—the great ruts that carve up her face and shatter her eye, the cracks crawling deep through her stone skin.

You— dare—!

Varian lifts his head with difficulty, struggling against the unyielding hand slowly crushing him to the ground. His smile has dropped, the sweet anger fallen, and now all he is is furious. “I hate you!” he cries, too incensed to be any more articulate than that. “I hate you! You and your stupid—tell me how to control the rocks!”

Moon’s voice shakes with a snarl. No.

“Tell me!” Varian shouts back. Something roars in his ears. Is it blood? The wind? Or most frightening of all—power? “Tell me how to stop this!”

The Moon leans close. Her smile is a bare of teeth. Her eyes are bright and vivid with rage.

FIGURE IT OUT YOURSELF.

Something shatters. Wind howls. For a split second, Varian is falling, dropping in free-fall—

His eyes snap open.

His throat catches on a scream, and he lurches half-way out of the cot before he realizes where he is. Yasmin’s house. The guest-room. His bed. The room is lit blue by the midnight; the air is cool, the candles all blown out.

Sweat plasters his bangs to his face. He feels feverish. The room is far too warm, but maybe that is because Varian himself feels as if he has slowly frozen solid. His heart beats unsteady and rapid in his chest. He has—he is—what?

Soft breaths. A warmth by his side. He looks down and reaches out, and—Ruddiger. Ruddiger?

Ruddiger is sleeping. Ruddiger is calm. He…. He’s not acting like either of them were ever in danger. Come to think—had he—had he been in the room at all, after Varian called the Moon’s name? He can’t remember.

It’s quiet.  Dead silent. Varian looks across the room, and sees Adira in her cot, blankets pulled up, still in sleep. She hasn’t moved. No, wait—when had she come in? Wasn’t she meant to be talking with Yasmin?

Varian turns to the window, his hands shaking. The sky outside is clouded and dark—no moon to be seen past the clouds. And the person looking back at him from the reflection is… himself. Varian.

It’s just him.

Slowly, his panicked breaths ease. Varian settles against the pillow, his mind racing. A dream. It had just been a dream.

And yet—he remembers it perfectly. He lifts his arm—the Moondrop one, the one that always burns whenever magical fuckery is abound—and looks at the hand. His veins are dark and blue. There is frost on his fingers, slowly but surely melting away in the heat.

Ah. Not just a dream, then. That is… that is… gods, he should have guessed. Moon and dreams. Maybe that conversation was never on his terms after all. Typical.

His breathing has gone very shaky. Varian falls back against the pillow. He stares wide-eyed at the ceiling, letting it all sink in. Breathes in. Breathes out. Rewinds the whole conversation back in his head, all the information bombshells and that disastrous ending, and slowly covers his face with his hands.

“Oh,” Varian says, weakly. “Oh, fuck.”

.

Morning comes almost too soon.

Varian doesn’t really sleep that night. After his conversation with the Moon, his mind is running too quick for rest. The information—the Moon herself—all of it is just so much, and he spends the rest of the night half-way between passing out and staring at the ceiling, his mind spinning, caught somewhere between regret for lashing out and a petty sort of inner voice that insists he probably should have insulted her more, that secretive conniving jerk. Watching you struggle is amusing, ha-ha-ha, Varian wants to punch a wall.

The night drags on, near torture, and Varian drifts in and out of sleep, until finally he blinks open fever-hot eyes to the crackle of distant birds and the morning rime on the gleaming window. Dawn, come again. He closes his eyes and sighs. Then he sits up.

Adira left sometime when he was half-way passed out; her stuff is gone, bags packed and cot rolled up. That’s right, he remembers, all at once. She’s leaving today. Last night was… the last night. Yasmin’s home is no longer open for shelter.

He sits there for a time, listening to Ruddiger’s sleepy snuffles and looking out the window with a distant stare. The sunlight sparkles over the frosted fields, crisp and clean, and he watches the light glitter for a long moment. He’s exhausted, but he feels oddly calm. The darkness is gone, chased away… and finally, Varian knows what to do.

He can’t deny the horror of it all—the fear creeping through. The sense that whatever’s going on, it’s something way, way more than he can handle. But if something like that is coming for Corona…. for Rapunzel and the others…

Varian looks down at his hands. He takes a breath. Takes another. And then he sets his jaw and gets to his feet, and starts packing.

By the time he pads downstairs, Ruddiger on his shoulders, his bags are packed and Varian himself is dressed in the new clothes Yasmin tailored for him. He fiddles with the sleeve as he thuds down the steps, unsure of how to clip the cuff, and Yasmin snorts when she sees him, the older woman standing at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in one hand.

“Dear gods, have you never worn a vest before?” She sets down her cup and goes over to him, tugging the sleeve from his hands. Varian watches intently as Yasmin buttons the cuff, memorizing the fabric fold as she steps back and pulls his vest straight, the heavy fabric sitting snug and fit on his shoulders. She surveys the outfit with a critical eye and hums. “Well. Not bad for a rush job.”

Varian makes a face, pulling at his hem. The clothes fit well, but they are unlike anything Varian has ever owned—and not just because he’s still missing his gloves and apron. He’s wearing a cream cotton tunic with buttoned sleeves, paired with a low v-cut blue vest embroidered with golden skeletal floral stitching and buttoned with small silver half-moons, the swirls of soft gold stark against the dark blue. The black pants are cut in a sailor-style, the ends tapered half-way down his shin to tuck in his boots. A dark magenta sash ties around his waist, the color so rich it nearly shines in the light. Above it all Varian’s oversized trench coat with its many lovely pockets envelops him, the pink nightlight swinging from one notch, the sleeves rolled up twice and still too long for him. Combined with the new haircut and the ponytail Varian is currently struggling to tie, he looks like an entirely different person.

He’s not sure if it’s a good look or a bad one, but it’s definitely troublesome. This stupid ponytail especially.

As if in answer to his thoughts, Yasmin snorts and pulls the ribbon from his hands. “At least you brushed your hair,” she murmurs, turning him around. “Pay attention. You will have to tie it yourself after this.” She pulls back his hair and secures it tight atop his head. “See?” She takes the end of the tail and loops it, tucking the strands away. “And do this to make a bun. Whichever style you please. Simple.”

Varian undoes the bun with a sigh, letting the hair fall as a normal ponytail. Ruddiger bats at it, letting it swing. He’s not used to having his hair tied back; the pull and weight of the ponytail on his scalp makes his nose wrinkle. It’s not uncomfortable so much as… odd. “I look like some nobleman’s kid.”

“Tsk. Nothing so fancy. Merchant schoolboy, perhaps. Apprentice wizard for the imaginative.” Varian scowls at the joke as Yasmin turns back to the table, sipping at her cup. “Regardless, it will help. The less you look like you, the easier it is to hide. Besides. New clothes and haircuts are a nice way to actually feel as though you are getting a fresh start.” She sips at the drink again. “It will help. Two birds with one stone, I believe the saying is? Like that.”

Varian hums, unconvinced but not really wanting to argue, and drops into a seat with a sigh. He takes Ella’s offered cup of coffee with a weak smile, then glances around the kitchen. “Um, where’s…?”

“Here.” Adira moves into the kitchen, taking a cup of coffee herself. “Thanks.” She turns to Varian and looks him up and down, and lifts one brow at the outfit change, but all she says is, “You seem tired.”

Varian shrugs, his eyes dropping to the mug. In the dim reflection of the drink, his irises seem almost unnaturally bright. He grimaces and looks away. “I…” He doesn’t want to discuss his talk with the Moon, not yet, and definitely not with Yasmin here—if she finds out he summoned and then insulted an immortal god in her house, she might strangle him with his new sash—so he shrugs as casual as he can. “Just, um, ah… t-thinking?”

There is a long pause. All three woman stare at him. Ella and Yasmin exchange a meaningful glance. Adira closes her eyes and sighs.

“Adira,” Yasmin says, conversationally, “he really is a god-awful liar. What on earth are you teaching him?”

“I take no responsibility for this.”

“Simply dreadful,” Ella murmurs sadly.

Varian sips loudly at his drink and ignores them. He’s a great liar, damn it. The best. He fooled Rapunzel down in Corona’s tunnels, hadn’t he? He just needs time to prepare, is all, that’s not his fault.

Ruddiger gives him a supportive chitter. Varian sighs.

“Well, regardless.” Yasmin sets down her cup. “Good morning, lovely weather we are having, etcetera —all pleasantries out of the way, I will get to the point. While I admit it was… interesting to have you both here, I must say it is time you moved on.” She looks between them, and her eyes linger on Varian for a long moment. “So. When will you be going?” The slightest of pauses. “And… where?”

The silence stretches, awkward, tense. No one moves. Ella is watching them. Yasmin sips at her drink, her gaze heavy on Varian’s head.

Varian pulls his mug closer, cupping the warmth in his palms, drawing strength from the weight of Ruddiger by his side. He keeps his eyes on the floor. “My bags are all packed,” he says, to the floorboards. He can feel, rather than see, all of them go still. “I’m…” For a moment he stutters on it. For a moment he fumbles.

Then he takes a breath, and says it anyway. “I’m ready to go,” he says, at last. “To Corona.”

In the ensuing quiet, Yasmin’s sharp and relieved exhale is clear.

Adira is quiet for much longer; she shifts slightly, and Varian’s eyes snap to her, searching, afraid. But Adira is calm, near-expressionless, and her voice is even when she replies: “Then we leave together.”

Varian ducks his head in a nod.

He hears Adira stand, but keeps his eyes down, and almost startles out of his seat when a hand abruptly finds his shoulder. He freezes, stiff—but all Adira does is leave it there, just for a second, her touch warm and grounding.

For a moment he thinks she’s going to say something—what, he has no idea—but all she does is squeeze his shoulder, once, then take her hand away. “…We’ll leave soon. Finish your food.”

Varian glances up through his bangs, watching her go. He feels a little wondering. That warmth in her voice—what was that? And the hand on his shoulder… he knows Adira isn’t big on physical contact. So then, what was the point of that?

He turns back to the room to find Ella with her face politely turned away and a smile on her lips, and Yasmin looking insufferably pleased with herself. He narrows his eyes, feeling the heat rise to his face. He grips his cup protectively. “What?”

“Nothing.” Yasmin sips at her drink. She is smirking. “Just… I am very good at my job.”

Ella smacks her arm without looking.

“I mean, we are all very proud of you, congratulations on your character development, whatever, make good choices.”

Varian rolls his eyes, and tips back his drink to hide a smile of his own. He finishes his meal quickly—when Adira says leaving soon she usually means leaving now—and sneaks away some bread for Ruddiger to snack on later, getting up from the table. He is half-way out the door before he hesitates.

He glances back. Yasmin raises an eyebrow at him, bemused, waiting. Varian chews at his cheek, deep in thought.

On his end: the market, the haircut, the clothes. But he remembers also the way Adira gave him answers that day in the field, when before there was nothing, and her new strange attempts at mentoring, odd but not unwelcome. He gets the sudden sense he isn’t the only one Yasmin has been bothering, and tucks his hands behind his back.

Yasmin is annoying and rude and cold, and still a stranger in many ways… but in these past few days, Varian knows, she has truly and honestly helped him.

“Thanks,” Varian says, rushed and hurried, and just barely looking Yasmin in the eye, and then he runs out of the room before Yasmin can laugh at him, or worse, look touched.

Packing takes no time at all, both Adira and Varian already prepared. Before Varian knows it, he and Adira have waved goodbye to Ella and taken up their packs, walking away from the little cottage in the fields for the last time. To Varian’s embarrassment, Yasmin goes with them, claiming to see them off, dressed in her heavy winter coat with a wrapped package under one arm.

Varian avoids looking at her best he can, his face red, regretting that moment of thanks with all his being, and pretends badly he can’t hear her laughing at him as they walk.

They reach their destination quickly, thank gods—a merchant camp nestled in-between two farms, a small circle of carts by the road. It’s apparently the same merchant camp as before, the one from Port Caul, just moved more inland to escape any drama from the recovering city. There are far less carts than before—most of the merchants having fled after the attack—but there is still a few lingering, and Yasmin approaches one at once, already bartering for their ride.

“Javon, yes? I have heard you are on your way to the west. I would like to discuss a deal with you—”

In less than ten minutes they’ve gotten safe passage assured and a deal made, Yasmin shaking the merchant’s hand with a grimly satisfied smile. She walks back to them with her head high. “There you go,” she says to Adira. “My final favor for you—free of charge, even.” She glances back, and they both watch as the merchant loads their extra bags onto his cart. “Lucky we came when we did. The others are going east and he is leaving now.” She turns back. “I suppose this is goodbye again.”

Varian looks up at her, surprised by the words and the sudden sense of loss. How strange, he thinks. He’s really only known her for a week or so—but what a long few days they have been. He feels as if he’s been here far longer.

Adira tilts her head. “This is it,” she says agreeably.

“So it is.” Yasmin crosses her arms and looks Adira up and down. “Well. It was far more excitement than I should ever like again… but it was good to see you, Adira.” She sighs. “Just, please. For the love of all the gods. Write to me next time?”

Adira almost seems to smile. “We’ll see.”

“Tsk, bothersome woman.” But Yasmin almost seems pleased, and when she looks down at Varian, she cocks an eyebrow and settles a hand on her hip, near-smiling. “Well, boy, I hope you remember what I have taught you.”

Varian meets her eyes with some difficulty, but manages. The echoes from their conversation still sting, but he takes a breath and refuses to look away. “I’ve, um… been thinking on it.”

“That is all I can ask.” Yasmin offers a hand. “You are a brat and a pest and more trouble than you are worth… but perhaps you are not so bad.”

Varian rolls his eyes, unable to help himself. “I really don’t like you.” But he takes her hand, and feels almost cheered. He manages a smile. “Um. But… uh…”

Yasmin snorts. “You do not have to thank me again. Once was enough. Uncomfortable for both of us. Do not.” She hesitates, then takes the package out from under her arm and holds it out. “Ella’s idea. From both of us. Blame Adira.” She pauses again, and then scowls at him. “Open it later, once you are gone and I cannot see. Got it?”

“Okay…?” Varian takes it. Tests it. It’s soft, so not a book… “What—”

“Once you are gone!”

“Okay, okay!” He stows the package away in the satchel. Ruddiger chitters up on his shoulder, clearly curious, and hangs down his back to sniff at it. Yasmin’s scowl turns to him.

“Goodbye, Yasmin,” Adira says, drawing the attention back to her. Yasmin fixes her with a frown.

“You will keep in touch?”

Adira shrugs. “I’ll try.” She hesitates. “It… was good to see you too.”

Yasmin makes a face. “Yes yes, goodbye, go already. You are going to give me hives at this rate.”

Adira briefly smiles at that, a hard sort of grin that is almost laughter, and turns away with one last wave over her shoulder. Yasmin, too, for all her annoyance, seems more fond than truly irritated. Varian looks between the two of them and shakes his head, turning to follow Adira to the cart. Ridiculous. He doesn’t understand them at all.

It feels almost anti-climactic, after everything. With every step, Varian waits for something to go wrong. He steps to the cart. He gets in the cart. He sits down in the back with Adira and watches the road. Nothing. The sky is cloudy but dry and the cold winds are beaten back by the warmth of his new clothes and heavy coat. It’s dizzying. Is he really leaving?

The merchant snaps the reins and calls the horses to a trot. The cart lurches into a roll. Varian draws his knees to his chest and watches as Yasmin slowly shrinks away against the gray skies and endless fields. How strange, he thinks. How funny. Leaving really is that easy.

He looks down at the satchel, and pulls out the package. He looks at it for a moment, and hesitates—but, well, if they’re going, isn’t that the same as being gone…? Technically?

Varian sneaks a glance at Adira, who is sitting cross-legged with her eyes closed. She opens one eye under the attention, and looks at him blankly for a full second—then snorts, softly, and closes her eyes again.

Well. He supposes that’s technically permission. Right? Totally. Yes. One-hundred percent.

He looks at Ruddiger. Ruddiger pats at the package with one paw and gives a meaningful look. Which—yeah, okay. There’s no saying no to that.

Varian opens the package.

It’s well-wrapped, sealed tight; it takes him a few tries to rip it open. He tears off the paper in one long strip, setting it aside for Ruddiger to play with later. There is an extra layer of tissue paper to get through, and he tests the thing in his hand, frowning. It’s light—soft, and malleable in his hands. He turns it over and pulls off the paper—

His breath catches. Varian goes absolutely still. In the corner of his eyes, he can see Adira is almost smiling.

Gloves.

Yasmin has given him alchemy gloves.

For an instant, all Varian can do is stare. The gloves are made from heavy leather, with stiff stitching and an oily waterproof sheen. They’re a little different from his old ones—a block maroon trim lines the ends—but still. Gloves. She’s given him…

And it hits him, all at once. Every question, every fear, every moment of struggle—every time he’s had to fight against the anger that burns constant in his chest, every instant of pushing back against the urge to run away. Nothing has changed, in the end. Nothing is very different. He’s still not sure what he’ll do—what he’s even doing now—or even the difference between forgiveness and redemption and why it matters.

But he holds the gloves in his hands, this gift he didn’t ask for and didn’t expect, and—he wants to. He wants to know. He wants, at the very least, to try and find the answer.

Varian blinks rapidly, feeling tears starting to well up. His breath hitches. His eyes burn. He lurches to his feet, standing shaky on the rocking cart, and leans over the back with his hands braced against the ledge.

“Yasmin!”

In the distance, he sees her head rise. He’s too far to properly read her expression, but she’s looking at him. She is waiting for an answer. Varian pitches his voice as far as he can. “I’ll—I’ll be good! I will!”

He lifts his voice, calling out, his words echoing across the fields: “I promise I’ll try!”

Yasmin’s form is growing distant, indistinct. She doesn’t yell back. But she raises her hand, a quiet goodbye silhouetted dark against the pale gray sky, and Varian almost thinks she might be smiling.

And then the cart turns down a bend in the road, and she is gone.

Varian sits back down in the cart and wipes the tears from his cheeks, pulling on the new gloves with trembling fingers. His smile wavers bright and thin on his face. The weight of the gloves makes a knot catch in his throat. For the first time in over a year, in a long, long time… Varian finally feels complete.

It’s not that things are better, really. He’s still afraid—still shaking with it. Going back to Corona still fills him with dread, and he has yet to learn how to deal with the rocks. But for the first time in a while, for all the problems ahead, Varian finally feels like he can face them. Adira’s presence by his side is almost a comfort; the cart, lurching down the road, is finally going somewhere. He finally knows where he’s headed. He finally has a start to this long road he has chosen to walk.

He reaches up and rests a hand on Ruddiger’s head, and the raccoon sniffs at the new gloves and squeaks, delighted. Ruddiger is warm and weighted on his neck, a soothing constant. Varian tilts his head back to that cloudy and bright sky, and his smile pulls hard at his cheeks. It’s a small smile, a fragile thing—but it is there, faint but real, and maybe that’s enough.

.

It’s not working.

Her head aching with the strain of staring at an empty canvas for far too long, Rapunzel blows a strand of hair from her face and settles back on her heels, one hand propped on her hip. She lowers the paintbrush almost reluctantly. The canvas is… it’s a mess. Colors an ugly swirl, a tangle of mish-mashing hues, and she changed her mind on the subject half-way through, and now…

Oh, it’s awful. A lost cause. She sighs and moves the canvas away from her frame, her heart heavy. Another one bites the dust.

Usually this works. Art has always been Rapunzel’s avenue of expression—her way of wants, of desires, of dreams. The new mural spread out on her balcony floor, for instance. But this time, something’s gone wrong. It’s not so much art block as it is something else—a restlessness, an itch, an emotion she can’t pin down. There’s something she’s feeling, something she needs to get down on paper, and yet…

She can’t figure out what it is, this time. It’s not working. For the first time in forever, Rapunzel has found an issue she can’t work through with paint. She isn’t exactly pleased with this astounding phenomenon.

Or maybe, Rapunzel thinks glumly, settling back on her bed, watching the rain pool outside her window—maybe it’s just too much. She’s had… so much to think about, these past few days. The attacks, the blackmail, Vardaros, the Baron…

Stalyan.

Rapunzel’s lips thin, her mouth twisting on the thought. It’s—she’s not stupid. She knows, she knows Eugene loved others, once, knows he was a rogue and a flirt and… well, she knows. Stalyan isn’t a surprise so much as she is… a name, at last, to put to the once many nameless faces. And she isn’t even really the problem. It’s just—

Rapunzel had to learn through a letter.

It’s that which grates on her most of all. This stupid situation—this stupid mess—and it’s so silly, anyways, because Eugene has written the exact same thing. I wish I could have told you in person. I’m sorry I couldn’t. And still, she can’t stop thinking about it—about all of it. Having to learn all this stuff through a letter, and then Cassandra hadn’t even been able to give the letter to Rapunzel. She’d had to sneak it through her window via Owl, because the secret passage route to Cassandra’s rooms only works so long as it remains undiscovered, and…

It’s—awful. It’s just awful. And annoying. And… ugh.

Rapunzel falls back eagle-spread on her bed, bare feet kicking in the air, hair loose and pooling on the floor of her bedroom. Beyond her window she can hear the soft drip of rain, a storm that has lingered over Corona for almost a week now, and she closes her eyes to the soothing sound. It’s only morning, but— she’s exhausted. And she’s already pushed her hands to the limit, from her frustration with the canvas. And she’s still in her nightgown. Maybe—she just needs a break. Maybe she should just go back to sleep…

A knock sounds at the door. “Um, Princess?”

Elias. She bites back a sigh and pries her eyes open, lifting her head. “Yes?”

“Um, your, your parents—um, uh, the King and Queen… request your presence gr-greeting some guests to the castle…”

Oh. Rapunzel closes her eyes. “The…um…” She should know this. “The merchant groups. Yilla. Renewing contracts.” More importantly—it’s busywork. All the politics are already figured out. She resists the urge to sigh again, louder this time.

The queen hasn’t pushed the question about her hands, even though she obviously wishes to. In that way, Rapunzel’s parting comment has left its mark. That doesn’t mean anything else has changed. Her parents are still, even now, trying to keep Rapunzel in the dark.

She scowls at her bedcovers, lowering her head to cradle her forehead in her palms. Pascal, on her shoulder, pats her face in quiet sympathy. “I’ll be right out,” she calls to Elias, exhausted with it all. “One moment!”

She gets dressed as quick as she can, in the stiff formal gown Rapunzel hates but her parents prefer for formal situations. Pascal helps wordlessly with the bodice, and while usually Rapunzel would braid her hair for this, she has neither the time nor ability—after her painting session her hands are stiff and frozen, tight with pain, and she grabs for the beads, instead. Pascal helps her with the clasp, and when Rapunzel pulls on her gloved she has to do so with her teeth.

She’s pushed it today, she thinks, somewhat mournfully, and massages gently at her palm to loosen some of the pain. Her fingers still won’t curl right. Pascal gives her a look.

“I know,” Rapunzel mutters, exasperated, and hides her hands behind her back when Pascal opens the door.  Elias stands in the door, hand raised as if to knock again, amber eyes wide—when he sees her he squeaks and hurries aside, hands scrambling at his halberd.

Rapunzel sweeps out into the hall, right past Elias, and heads for the stairs. He scrambles to keep up, eyes wide behind his helmet. Despite everything, the sight almost makes her want to smile.

“We’re meeting in the throne room, right?”

“Ye-yes…”

She does smile at him this time, hoping to put him more at ease. She doesn’t dislike Elias—doesn’t really know him, honestly—but he doesn’t seem the bad sort, and his nerves are understandable. He’s stressed, too, and his support during the dinner conversation has endeared him to her a little. He reminds her, strangely, a little of Varian—less confident, and not at all angry, but… young. And trying his best, with all that’s been given. Quiet kindnesses.

The thought of Varian makes her smile falter. Rapunzel turns away. She hasn’t thought of Varian in… too long, she thinks. She’s tried not to. It’s—useless to worry about him, when he is so far away and she is unlikely to ever see him again, but sometimes thoughts like this crop up. It’d be a stretch to say she misses him—even now, after the labyrinth, she isn’t sure where they stand, and he’d been cruel to her for so many months before that—but sometimes she wonders how he’s doing. If he’s okay. If…

Useless thoughts, in the end. She tries to push past them. Quick, Rapunzel! Distraction!

“It’s—” Hello, train of thought, where did you go? Rapunzel clears her throat. “It’s… been a hard couple of weeks, hasn’t it?” She bites her lip, staring down at her bare feet. “I want to say, I’m sorry for all the trouble—”

“It—it’s no trouble!” Elias fumbles, then seems to blanch when he realizes he’s cut her off. He swallows hard. “It’s… it’s an honor, my princess.”

“Mm…”

He watches her, hesitant, and then slowly relaxes. “But…” His voice trails off, going small, and he takes a quick breath. “Ye-yes, it… it has been, um… quite a week. Haha.”

An understatement, really, and to such a degree she almost smiles, even though it isn’t really funny. Eugene’s letter had filled Rapunzel in on that, too. There’s been another harbor attack—the city of Port Caul, in the kingdom of Lencia, brought to its knees. It’s not at all near Corona—a two months journey at best—but it’s a major trade partner, and now it won’t be trading at all, not for a while. Another route lost.

“The castle has really been up in arms…” She glances back at him, wondering. “I meant to ask you—was it like this before I came back, too? It all feels so sudden to me, but…”

Elias hesitates. “It, um, it was… actually was kind of sudden,” he admits, voice small. “First it was a letter… and the routes started closing… and—and then—” He cuts himself off, looking away, and shrugs one shoulder. His lips are pressed thin and tight.

“…Oh.” There’s not much she can say to that. Rapunzel turns away, eyes fixing back on the hall. They move down the final flight of stairs, stepping out into the main wing of the castle. The grand hall stretches out wide before them, pale and blue in the dim light of the morning rain. The lamps burn small and golden, little haloes of light.

“Act-actually…”

Rapunzel blinks, looking back at Elias. The boy looks conflicted, his breathing quick and funny. “Hm?”

“I… I have a friend. Addy. Adeline. Um.” He shifts in place, his grip tight on the halberd. Rapunzel blinks, her attention focusing. He looks—afraid. Almost ill. She straightens. This is serious, apparently. “She… we—explore. Sometimes. Tunnels… and, and—dungeons.” He bites his lip, hard. “I’m, I’m sorry, I mean, I don’t know if it’s… um, im-important? But I know—you’ve been looking around—and all this, it happened… at—the same time. As the attacks. And, and everything else.”

Rapunzel watches him, closely, stopped fully now. Elias cringes under her attention. “Maybe? But my friend—Addy—she thinks—there’s s-something—in one of the cells, in the dungeons, and we heard them—and after that night, everyone started getting so angry, all the time, and Addy, she thinks—” Elias cuts himself off mid-word. His eyes go wide. His attention fixes over her shoulder, and stutters to a stop. “C-C-Ca—”

Rapunzel follows his gaze. Her breath catches. Pascal squeaks on her shoulder. “Cass?”

Down the hall, exiting through the other set of doors, is Cassandra. After a week of silence, seeing her is like a shock—for a moment, Rapunzel feels frozen, staring. Cassandra walks down the hall with her fists clenched and her eyes dark, mouth twisted on a frown. She’s not dressed for guard duty yet, and she doesn’t seem to have noticed them, her head bowed to stare unseeingly at the polished castle floors. But she’s here. She’s right here.

The conversation completely forgotten, Rapunzel races forward, almost tripping in her haste. “Cass!” she cries. “Cassandra!”

Cassandra stops in her tracks, her head snapping up. Her eyes widen. “…Rapunzel?”

“Cass!” She barrels into Cassandra for a hug, squeezing her tight. Cassandra hugs her back almost on automatic, and when Rapunzel pulls away she still looks stunned, blinking fast. “Oh, it’s so good to see you! I haven’t talked to you since—” Last week, she means to say, but then she remembers Elias at her back and the fact her father has banned her from seeing Cassandra at all, and blanches. “—sssssssince I came back! To Corona! Haha!”

Cassandra blinks and then gives Rapunzel a look, almost bemused, a faint smile pulling at her lips. She doesn’t seem to have seen Elias yet. “Since you’ve been back,” she agrees, almost a question, her eyebrows raised. She looks Rapunzel up and down and blinks again. “What’s with the get-up?”

“Politics,” Rapunzel admits, sighing heavily. She scowls down at the formal gown and then lifts her head with a weak smile. “Um, merchant contracts, I think.” Lower, she adds, bitter: “Busy work.”

Cassandra’s face is momentarily unreadable, but then she visibly shakes herself and frowns. “That’s… I’m sorry, Raps.” She squeezes at her shoulder. “Chin up, yeah? You’ll…” She trails off, suddenly, her eyes catching over Rapunzel’s shoulder. Something flashes through her eyes. She stops talking.

Rapunzel glances back, seeing Elias, standing small and nervous at the end of the corridor and trying desperately not to look at them, and sighs, her headache returning. Right. Elias. Replacing Cassandra, watching her for the King…

“It’s fine,” Rapunzel says, subdued. She tries for a smile. “He’s… he’s fine. He’s actually very sweet, honestly.”

“Sweet for a spy.” Cassandra’s voice is cold. Rapunzel frowns at her, and she shakes her head. “No. No, that’s good. I guess. Sorry.”

“Yes…” Rapunzel leans in, hugging Cassandra again on impulse. She’s missed her, missed having her by her side, missed just having a friend. “I mean it, though! It’s been a while. How are you?”

“I’m fine.” Cassandra steps away from the embrace, tone clipped. She rubs one hand at her upper arm, starting to look agitated.

“I’m glad.” Rapunzel steps back too, giving her some space. Her voice lowers. “Actually, um, I wanted to thank you—”

“Don’t mention it.”

“U-um, okay.” Rapunzel blinks fast and then rallies herself. She needs to go soon, but before she does— “I…” She drops her voice to a whisper. “I’ll try and get out tonight or tomorrow—I know we can’t really do anything, but maybe we could talk for a bit? Or visit Eugene? There’s some stuff I want to—to talk through, and—” She smiles, weakly. “I miss you guys.”

Cassandra doesn’t smile back. When she speaks, her voice is flat, and she is not whispering. “Are you serious?”

Rapunzel blinks fast, taken aback. “Um—”

“We don’t have time for this.”

“I—I just thought—”

“It’s not like I’ll have anything to report, anyway. Have I been any help at all these past few weeks?” She scoffs, cutting Rapunzel off before she can answer. “Besides, it’s not a good idea. Are you trying to get me into trouble?”

“I—no!” Rapunzel steps back, stunned. “Cass, of course not! I just thought…”

“We’re not even supposed to be talking right now,” Cassandra adds, poisonously, eyes snapping to Elias, and something in Rapunzel snaps.

“Cass!” Rapunzel shouts, and Cassandra’s eyes crack back to her. Rapunzel stares at her. She doesn’t say anything. The silence almost seems to echo. Cassandra’s eyes are wide.

“I don’t understand,” Rapunzel says, helplessly, her voice tight, and Cassandra outright freezes.

“You—!”

For a moment her face tightens, and she almost seems to snarl—and then the moment fades. Cassandra’s eyes squeeze shut. She brings a hand to her temple. Her lips curl not into a snarl, but a grimace. “…Sorry.”

“Cass…”

“Sorry. I just—haven’t been sleeping well.” Her hand drops. All at once she sounds tired, dull and worn thin. “It was good seeing you, Rapunzel. But let’s just… I’d rather not get into any more trouble than I’m already in, okay?” She turns away. “See you around.”

“Cass!”

It’s too late. Cassandra has already gone.

Rapunzel watches Cassandra go, feeling almost cold. Her breathing is tight. Her hands are aching. Her teeth clenched. Cassandra turns the corner and vanishes from view, and Rapunzel stares after her for a long time, something in her shaking. Pascal, on her shoulder, is frowning. His tail pats Rapunzel’s cheek. Rapunzel doesn’t move.

Hesitant footsteps approach her side, the clank of armor. “…Princess—are, are you okay?”

She breathes. “I’m fine.”

Elias is silent for too long. Rapunzel turns to him. “What is it?”

“You—you look—” He falters, his voice going small. “Um.”

The observation startles her. Rapunzel stares. “What?”

Wordless, Elias points a hand to his face.

Rapunzel raises a hand to her cheek, feeling numb. Her gloves come away damp with tears. She stares at it, wide-eyed, and thinks: Oh.

Oh.

The empty canvas, the uncertain emotion. The tangle of feeling in her gut. And this, too—the burn behind her eyes, inside her chest, in her heart. The roar in her ears. She knows this. She knows this.

Her mouth is dry. Her hands are shaking. She is struck with the sudden urge to—to break something, or scream, or just sit down and cry. Why is everything going wrong? Eugene, leaving. Stalyan—this part of his past he never shared, and he couldn’t even tell her to her face. Varian, missing, whose presence haunts her like a ghost—her parents—

She knows why Eugene can’t tell her. She knows why he didn’t want to. She knows it isn’t Varian’s fault that everyone is hounding her; she was the one who chose to let him go, after all, which is the main issue. Her parents are another story, but… she’d accepted this. She’d known this was coming. She’s fighting it. She was ready for this!

And yet.

Her hands shake.

Rapunzel stares at the floor, feeling cold, feeling flushed. She rubs hard at her face, trying to stop from crying. She hates this. She hates crying like this—her throat all twisted and her words all gone. She hates this.

Cass.

It’s not fair. She knows Cassandra is hurting. She understands why. But Rapunzel didn’t ask for this, either.

Why won’t you just talk to me?

A long time ago, after Varian nearly killed Rapunzel with the arrow and everything spiraled into pieces, Cassandra had sat Rapunzel down and asked her to be honest. To trust her. And Rapunzel had promised. She had promised, and she has—she has tried, over and over, again and again. She is trying so hard to be honest with them, even when it hurts, even when it’s about things she wishes she could lock away and never think about again. And it infuriates her. It rises in her like a burning wave, strangles her throat and makes her eyes hot, because—

I’m trying to be honest with you, Cass. So why won’t you be honest with me?

Why won’t you talk to me?

Rapunzel swallows hard. She closes her eyes. She breathes through her teeth. She raises her hands and threads them through her hair, yanks once and yanks hard, and then smooths the strands back with shaking, aching fingers.

Elias’s voice is so quiet. “I’m—I’m—I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” Rapunzel pries her eyes open, breathing past the wall of emotion beating against her chest. “I—it was always there, I guess, I just—I didn’t realize. Really.” She reaches a shaking hand and dabs away the tears with her gloves. “Sorry.”

Elias looks miserable. His eyes fall. “I…” He hesitates. “If there, there’s anything I can—”

“It’s fine,” Rapunzel repeats, quiet. She rubs her face dry and breathes in deep, pulling on composure like a cloak. Heat coils tight and bitter in her gut. She hates it. She hates this. “…We—we have somewhere to be, anyway. The merchants.”

Elias nods, hesitant. His eyes cannot seem to decide whether to stay fixed on the floor or on her.

“Right,” Rapunzel says. She takes another breath. “Right.” She rubs the last of her tears away and straightens. “Let’s go, then.”

His lips press. His head dips. But Elias does not argue, and he leads her to the throne room with his head low and his shoulders bowed almost in something like guilt.

She should say something to him, probably—but she’s tired. She’s so tired. She is so angry she aches with it. Her hands are shaking like a storm, and she has to fold them behind her back to keep her poise. Even her hair feels heavy, right now—a ball-and-chain, the weight of destiny. Awful, awful, awful. Her eyes burn. She wants to go home.

Rapunzel enters the throne room with her head high and her mind a million miles away. She is late, and the advisors look testy; Rapunzel’s mother meets her eyes for one second before her gaze flickers down to Rapunzel’s hands. Rapunzel moves them behind her back, poised, her expression unchanging.  

Her father watches the exchange warily, his lips pressed thin. He seems to realize something is wrong. He studies her face. “Rapunzel—”

She meets his eyes. “Yes?”

He quiets. He looks away.

Rapunzel bites back another sigh, and heads for her seat by their thrones, settling into the chair exhausted relief. She folds her gloved hands in her lap, half-hidden in her skirts, and Pascal jumps down to settle in her palms, the weight of him warm and soothing against the ache. Rapunzel forces a faint smile for him and then keeps her eyes on the great doors. As soon as this is over, Rapunzel is taking a nap.

She’s so tired.

Trumpets sound, loud and echoing, and the noise makes her flinch. The merchant caravan is announced by the herald, their issues presented… the doors, swinging open, admit a bald middle-aged man with sweat on his brow, dressed in dark red threads. Yilla, the merchant leader. He walks with wringing hands.

And then, stepping up beside him— a woman.

Even from a distance, the newcomer is visibly striking. Long, dark brown curls frame a heart-shaped face, her clothes expensive and well-tailored. She is tall and smirking, her head high and proud, and she almost seems to be laughing as she leans over to the herald, whispering something in the man’s ear. Her smile is cold and bright and unwavering on her face.

Something washes over Rapunzel then. A warmth. A whisper. A hiss of threat. She straightens in her seat. Her head spins. Her eyes feel hot, burning. There is something here—something about this woman—that makes her every nerve scream in warning.

The herald is still listening to the woman, and when she finishes speaking he goes pale in the face. For a moment he fumbles. His glance back at the King is terrified.

“And—and if I may present,” says the herald, stuttering and shaking on his tongue, “with the merchant Yilla… his g-guest, Lady Stalyan of Vardaros!”

.

.

.

Deep in the dungeons of Corona, locked far away from the commotion above, a lone prisoner sits slumped against the wall.

His once-long and beautiful hair has gone ratty and grimy with time; his hands hang limp before his knees. His shoulders slump forward, his head bowed—in defeat, perhaps, or maybe sleep. In this dismal and empty dungeon hall, the prisoner rests with his eyes closed.

Water drips in the distance. Someone yells. The creak of metal armor from patrolling guards passes by and fades, again and again. And still, the prisoner does not move. Still, the prisoner does not speak. His shoulders are tense and taut. His fingers curled. His eyes closed, his ears straining. Not a man asleep at all—not defeated—but something else. He is listening. He is waiting. He has been waiting here for over a year.

And then, at long last: he hears the answer.

Something shifts in the shadows. An echo hums in the air, a low buzz like a swarm. The prisoner’s fingers seize and twitch at the icy touch trailing his shoulders, and then still at the whisper echoing in his ears.

His eyes burn. His smile pulls wide and cruel. The prisoner starts to shake, laughter wheezing through clenched teeth, and in the shadows of his eyes, his hatred shines bright and green.

“It’s finally begun, huh?” He crosses his legs at the ankle, lounging back against the wall. He exhales a long sigh. The air ripples at his breath—an echo, a whisper made manifold, a twist of magic like an oily rot. Halfway down the hall, a guard is struck with a blinding rage, his innermost anger set to boiling, and turns to strike his fellow. A sword is drawn with a shriek of steal. Someone screams.

The commotion catches an audience—another set of guards—footsteps pound on the stone, the men come running. The guard, down the hall, is apologizing. His sword is bloody. His fellow lies still on the cold floors. I don’t know what came over me, the first guard is saying, high and hysterical. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want— I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want this!

And far away from the disaster, safely hidden in his cell, Andrew tilts back his head to the dungeon’s grimy ceiling and laughs.

“Finally,” he says.

I don’t know what came over me!

“Let the countdown begin.”

#tangled the series #tts #rapunzel's tangled adventure #rta #varian #rapunzel #eugene fitzherbert #cassandra #adira #tangled #iza fanfic #fic: faults of the mind #fic series: the long road back to home #please reblog if you liked it!!!! 💖

[sepublic]

Ideas for potential future Hazbin Hotel episodes...

So in the event that Hazbin Hotel gets greenlit by some outside studio, or continues to function and thrive with fan support, I think there are a couple of important ideas/concepts that are worth exploring and forming episodes and subplots around;

-An episode about a second visitor (Alastor doesn’t count as he’s a benefactor and Niffty and Husk are employees, not guests) would be VERY important and I feel a good starting point for the next episode. We already have Angel Dust, but he admits that he only signed up for a free room (not that this won’t change...). For the show’s themes of redemption, we need to actually see someone else, probably someone who saw Charlie’s ad on TV, actually sign up to stay at the hotel. By having this happen, it’ll show that, yes, there ARE people who are legitimately interested in the Hazbin Hotel and its offer of redemption, and this can pave the way for more guests. Having the Hazbin Hotel gain traction (along with reactions from other demons to Alastor’s sponsorship) would move the plot along.

Based on the official art by Vivzie, I think characters such as Mimzy, Crymini, or Baxter would work. Rosie is a demon lord, so I don’t see her signing up anytime soon, Arackniss is unrepentant, and I think Molly might be saved for later. We’ve already had cameos of Mimzy and Crymini (the latter even watching Charlie’s advertisement), and considering how prevalent the aforementioned three are in art, they’d probably be good starting points for the hotel. Likewise, Cherri could possibly join later, but I’m not entirely sure.

-It’s mentioned in a Q&A that Demons can actually ‘level up’, increasing their rank and power in the process. Considering Alastor seems to be vying for the spot of a demon lord (or at the very least started off concerningly powerful for someone who hadn’t yet leveled up), this would be a good subplot to explore not only Alastor and his motives and abilities, but also introduce Rosie and potentially Lillith, Valentino, and Vox. Ideally, we’d be introduced to leveling up as a concept, and see how it works and what it does.

Likewise, we could also explore the demon hierarchy in general, and how it works. How does Lucifer, Lillith, Satan, and Beelzebub’s authority extend? How do other demons feel about them? Have there been attempts to overthrow them, and how loyal are the Demon lords, assuming they have any allegiance whatsoever? We see a Bat Demon Lord and Dinosaur Demon Lord with Lillith when she looks at Charlie’s fireworks, so it seems THOSE two at least have it good with the ruling family.

-Having an episode dedicated to a new arrival at Hell would also be interesting, as we’d see what it’s like to suddenly die, only to be reincarnated as a demon (potentially as an animal you hate, no less) immediately afterwards. Having a subplot of the Hazbin crew welcoming in a new demon would be a neat way of exploring how Hell works, how one gets introduced and acclimated to the area, and the lifestyle. It could also be used to explore the origins of other characters, or at least the circumstances in which they died and/or arrived. Additionally, it’d be in Charlie’s best interest to immediately invite new arrivals to Hell, as presumably they’d be in a vulnerable, disoriented state and want to leave Hell ASAP. It might be taking advantage of someone else’s predicament, but it’s probably in anyone’s best interests to leave Hell, and we can also explore Charlie’s character flaws later.

-Speaking of arrivals and new guests, having the story focus on how the redemption and rehabilitation process actually works would be pretty important. 

-Character backstories and origins are pretty key, and exploring Angel Dust’s family and mobster origins would be vital regarding his redemption. Likewise, a proper introduction to Valentino (and the Hazbin crew possibly dealing with him, a bit VIOLENTLY might I add...) is begging to be animated. We could answer various questions, such as what exactly ARE the Egg Bois, Vaggie’s hostility to other demons, the origin of Alastor’s power, why Niffty seems rather obsessed with men, and so forth.

-Twice, Alastor has offered Charlie’s hand, and both times she’s declined a handshake/deal. This seems like foreshadowing towards an inevitable ‘deal’ she’ll make with him, so an episode about this (probably later in the series) would be an interesting concept.

-Similarly, Alastor always smiles because he sees anything else as a sign of weakness; So obviously, preferably as late into the series as possible, we need to have the show’s most major ‘All hell is loose’ moment in which Alastor frowns.

-More Sir Pentious antics... that’s really all I have to say. Presumably these would be Wile E. Coyote subplots as he attempts to destroy the Hazbin Hotel and repeatedly fails, with some plots failing without the main cast even being aware Pentious was trying.

-Charlie backstory, alongside her family dynamics with Lucifer and Lillith, as well as her thought process in creating the Happy Hotel. A meeting with Vaggie and explanation of the two’s relationship origins would also be neat, and the introduction and clarification of Satan and Beelzebub as separate entities from her father is also neat.

-I think an episode actually showing if it IS possible to be redeemed and go to heaven would be very important regarding, again, the show’s themes and Charlie’s motives and goals. Perhaps it’d happen later in the series, or earlier, depending on the answer to the age-old question; If you CAN go to heaven, we’ll definitely need an episode exploring a demon that rehabilitates, and the process of ascension. If you CAN’T go to heaven after redemption, then this would probably be revealed as some devastating reveal later down the line that forces Charlie to question herself.

-Likewise, an episode(s) focusing on Charlie’s flaws and misunderstanding of redemption would be great for her character. Charlie is definitely well-meaning and optimistic, but at the same time you get the idea that she’s a bit naive and doesn’t quite fully understand how people end up in Hell, and how tricky of a process it is to actually rehabilitate oneself. Charlie learning that she can’t push people into becoming better just by being all happy and sunshine-y would be relevant as a character arc, and it’d motivate her into approaching redemption more subtly. People can and ARE messed up in Hell and are dealing with intense issues, and Charlie needs to learn to recognize this and give people the space they need to improve.

-We see the results of the Exterminator Angels’ annual massacres, but we have yet to see one in action. Thus, an episode that showcases what an extermination actually looks like would be both fascinating and also utter nightmare fuel as the characters try to survive and protect the guests at the Hazbin Hotel, who may not be any more exempt from extermination than anyone else. Likewise, seeing how the Demon Lords and others prepare for an extermination would be neat world-building.

-Mobster, crime-ring shenanigans with Angel Dust, Cherri, Arackniss, etc., would also be fun to see. It could be used to explore what the demon underground looks like, what ‘laws’ there are in Hell, if any, and how society functions. It could also explore the idea of Exterminator weapons being a major thing in the black market due to their ability to actually, permanently kill a demon.

-What happens if a demon dies from an Exterminator weapon? Vivzie may or may not answer this, but going into speculation, I think a slain demon might actually reincarnate into a new life outside of Hell, thus given another ‘chance’ but as a different person entirely.

-Somebody dies permanently; Again, we know demons can be taken out completely by the Exterminator weapons. I think this could make for some interesting drama, or it could just be reserved for some one-off, one-shot character in order to explain how Exterminator Weapons work.

-An episode about Charlie just completely, UTTERLY losing it and revealing her true demon form in all of its hellish entirety would also be amazing.

-More Niffty and Husk interactions! 

-Another musical number isn’t NEEDED, but it would admittedly be pretty great. Potentially, there could even be an entire musical episode dedicated to all of the characters singing, which explores their motives, backstories, etc.

-Additionally, having filler subplots of the cast trying to deal with and rehabilitate the episodic, demon-of-the-week and dealing with said demon’s flaws and making them a better person could be entertaining.

-How much of Hell IS there? Overpopulation is an issue, so presumably there are boundaries... And if so, what ARE those boundaries? Does Hell just end at a cliff hovering over an empty void, or is it contained at the bottom of a giant pit?

#hazbin hotel