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daughter-of-the-prophet · 1 year

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Isabela (Tv Tropes II) Part 1

Action Girl: Even more of one now that she's a main character. She's even introduced in the same manner, by easily beating up a bunch of thugs in a Bar Brawl. She might be without her ship and crew, but she's anything but helpless.

Ascended Extra: In Origins, she was a rogue who taught Ilona Cousland the duelist specialization in the Pearl. She returns in the second story with a new model and a new voice actress as a companion. Lampshaded when she, Areida Hawke, and the other companions meet with King Alistair of Ferelden in the third act; he remembers her and remarks, "You look... different."

Anything That Moves: According to her, she's had relations with men, women, elves, and a cross-dressing dwarf. She doesn't recommend that last one. Isabela's behavior is mostly for her image as a pirate, and while she has no problems with a Friends with Benefits relationship (or a one night stand), she doesn't have nearly as many of those as she implies.

Awful Wedded Life: Her marriage to Luis was anything but happy. Not only was she forced to marry him at a very young age, she frequently pressured her to act more "ladylike", and while at first he tried to please her with his wealth, he quickly grew tired of her rebellious attitude and became abusive, even planning to "lend" her to some of his friends.

Badass Normal: The main menu for Heroes of Dragon Age has her roaring right in Coryphetits' face, and Isabela is naught but a pirate captain in a world of mages and those Badass Abnormal.

Bad Liar: She's not very good at being subtle when she's hiding something; she stutters, avoids eye contact, and hesitates a lot. More often, though, she just dodges unwanted questions or starts talking about what pretty eyes the questioner has.

Big Damn Heroes: She pulls this during the Qunari invasion at the end of act two by returning their relic, thereby creating a relatively peaceful solution to the problem.

Blade Enthusiast: She dual-wields and carries plenty of knives and daggers.

Brain Bleach: Invokes this reaction in Areida and the other companions more than once when she talks about her more salacious sex stories.

Broken Bird: Has a few elements of one, though she'd never admit it, especially the issues with emotional intimacy.

But Not Too Black: A consistent problem in promotional material — the pre-game marketing, comic book covers and artwork in Art of Thedas lighten her skin-tone considerably.

Buxom Beauty Standard: Her new design in the second story gave her an ample bust, which is emphasized by the cleavage in her corset, and part of the reason why she's such a Dude Magnet.

Bystander Syndrome: She's a cynical person who always prioritizes self-preservation, and doesn't like to risk her neck for "noble causes". As she says: "We're not responsible for anyone but ourselves."

Call-Back: When the Ilona Cousland meets Isabela during Origins, she is dueling people in a bar who claim she cheated them of their coin. After defeating them, they run off. When Areida Hawke meets Isabela, she is dueling people in a bar who claim she cheated them of their coin. After defeating them, they run off.

The Casanova: A female version, she wins the eyes of many men and Really Gets Around.

Changed My Mind, Kid: On the eve of the Qunari invasion, she abandons Areida and her companions because the Qunari are after her personally. Having developed a close friendship with Areida, She turns around and returns to give the Qunari back their relic.

Character Development: Developing a close friendship with Areida Hawke during the story causes her to start drifting more towards the good side of the morality scale, though with reluctance.

Chekhov's Gunman: She only has one scene in Origins, but was popular/infamous enough to be made a full companion in the sequel.

Cool Aunt: She is seen as this by Anders and Areida's three children, especially their daughter Leandra.

Cool Big Sis: She tries to act like a cool, older female figure to Merrill and Bethany, though given her obsession with sex sometimes it comes across as Corrupt the Cutie.

Corrupt the Cutie: Jokingly invoked in several conversations with Bethany.

After Bethany gets sent to the Circle, Isabela sends her many erotic books to get her through the night.

Does this to a lesser extent with Merrill (teaching her how to do body shots).

Also invoked with, of all possibilities, Bianca, which appears to end the playful flirting between Isabela and Varric.

Invoked with Aveline after they settled into the role of Vitriolic Best Buds by Act 3, where she offers tips on how to spice things up with Donnic in the bedroom. Considering Aveline's response to Isabela asking if Donnic's bedroom prowess leads to Aveline being "flipped arse over tits and hammered like a bent nail," Isabela apparently succeeded.

"Could Have Avoided This!" Plot: In Act 2, Aveline mentions this in disgust when she and Areida learn that Isabela stole the Tome of Koslun and only decides to tell them this now that the Qunari are acting up.

The Cynic: Behind her Friendly Pirate persona, she is a deeply cynical woman who believes she's living in a Crapsack World that has no chance of getting better and sees no point in doing anything other than looking out for herself. Areida and Anders constantly challenge her on this, and with Areida's help and influence she learns to be more optimistic and care for others.

Dark and Troubled Past: Heavily hinted throughout Dragon Age II, though she is reluctant to go into details. Those Who Speak reveals that her mother was a Viddethari, who sold her into slavery after she refused to convert. The comic also tells of a particularly low moment for her, when she offloaded an entire ship's galley worth of elven slaves into the ocean to drown so she could make a faster getaway from her pursuers. Her self-disgust and guilt over this is why she would later free Castillon's slaves, starting the chain of events that would bring her to Kirkwall.

Depending on the Artist: The tone of her skin can change drastically in the comic series. One of the most notable examples is the cover art for The Silent Grove #5, where she practically has white skin.

Disappeared Dad: Her father was a random man her Madam mother slept with and has never had a presence in her life.

Divergent Character Evolution: In Origins, she uses the same assets like any other NPC character. In Dragon Age II she has her own unique model. This is Lampshaded when she goes with Areida to meet with King Alistair, who mentions she looks quite different.

Does Not Like Men: A very mild case, and played very subtly, but Isabela seems quick to believe the worst when it concerns men and how they view women, even if she has no trouble befriending or sleeping with them. This almost certainly stems from her treatment at the hands of her late husband. She's quick to tease men about their performance, but is even quicker to praise women for theirs.

Double Entendre:

Very commonly, sometimes Imagined Innuendo, and very rarely, Innocent Innuendo. Sex drips off her tongue every time her mouth opens. For every subversion, she plays it twice as hard.

A notable subversion occurs while she's speaking with Varric, and serves as a Call-Back to a similar conversation between Alistair and Oghren. For once, Varric and Isabela really were just talking about weapons.

One of her armor upgrades is called "Rigid Boning." Now, her outfit is not unlike Of Corsets Sexy, and corsets do have "boning" (a rigid structure, so named because at one point the structure actually was made from bone), and more rigid boning would be an upgrade in a sense. . . but still.

Drowning My Sorrows: She's found at the Hanged Man's counter when she's not out with Areida.

Dual Wielding: Is restricted to this in the second story.

Duel to the Death: With Hayder. Isabela suspects foul play, so when she meets Areida, she asks for potential backup.

Easily Forgiven: After Areida spares Isabela from being handed over to the Arishok, Isabela is shocked that Areida still wants to be friends with her even though her stealing the relic from the Qunari was what lead to the events of the Qunari invasion on Kirkwall in the first place and that she lied to her about it.

Ethical Slut: While perfectly willing to sleep with anyone and anything, she is greatly concerned with not hurting others' (especially Merrill's) feelings and gets incredibly angry with men who mistreat women.

Establishing Character Moment: Her introductory scene is a Bar Brawl, as a Call-Back to how she was introduced in Origins. Apparently, this happens with her fairly often.

Even Evil Has Standards: Isabela is a pirate to the core, but she would never condone slave trading, which is why she betrays Hayder before Areida first meets her. However, she's perfectly willing to let unrepentant slavers get away clean if it means she can have a ship again.

Expy: With her Devil-may-care swagger, lecherous personality, penchant for heavy drinking and betrayal, emphasis on personal freedom, obsessive mission to reclaim a lost ship even to the point of making a Deal with the Devil, and the fact that she's in her current predicament a job transporting slaves didn't work out, you'd be forgiven for mistaking her for a beardless Captain Jack Sparrow.

Four-Star Badass: In Inquisition Varric reveals that, after Kirkwall, Isabela went back to the Raiders and become an admiral. Though, as Varric puts it:

Varric: "I'm not sure if she's really an admiral or she just has a really big hat. Might be the same thing, honestly."

Friendly Pirate: Played With. By the time of the start of Act 1 of Dragon Age II, Isabela has been a pirate captain for a decade and engaged in all sorts of amoral activities such as raiding and smuggling but she draws the line at heinous stuff like slave trafficking. Despite her selfish self-preservation tendencies, she can be a charming and friendly person who gets along well with the rest of the party. As the story progresses, character progression pushes her further and further into this trope, to the point that she admits that Good Feels Good and she's happy to have known Areida and the other companions.

Friends with Benefits: While a tremendous flirt, she only appears to have such a relationship with Fenris.

Friend to All Children: It's mentioned that most of the pirates on the Waking Sea want Isabela dead for performing a one-woman army stunt, seizing the vessel she was meant to be escorting, after she discovered it actually contained slaves who were mostly women and children.

She later becomes an Honorary Aunt towards the three children that Anders and Areida have together.

The Gadfly: Her preferred form of humor is to tease and torment other people, especially if they're stuck-up prudes. Which makes Aveline her prime target, such as how she constantly teases Aveline about her sex life with Donnic just to see how she reacts, but then acts like it's Too Much Information when Aveline breaks down.

Isabela: "How about "satisfy a demand of your Qun." Or did he Cup your Joining? Or master your taint? That's an old one."

Aveline: "Yes, all right? He is an incredibly proficient lover. Happy?"

Isabela: "Well that's rather personal, don't you think?"

The Hedonist: She had a very unhappy life before becoming a pirate, so once she did she fully embraced the hedonistic lifestyle and seems to live for three things: the thrill of adventure, alcohol, and sexual gratification.

Hero of Another Story: Alongside Varric and King Alistair in The Silent Grove/Those Who Speak/Until We Sleep trilogy.

Hidden Depths: She can be surprisingly eloquent and wise, if deeply cynical, at times concerning philosophical ideas such as freedom and justice.

Anders: "There is justice in the world."

Isabela: "Is there? You want to free the mages. Let's say you do, but to get there, you kill a bunch of innocent people. What about them? Don't they then deserve justice?"

Anders: "Yes."

Isabela: "And Then What?? Where does it end? It's like a bar brawl: people are continuously pulled into the fray, and nobody remembers why it started. Justice is an idea. It makes sense in a world of ideas, but not in our world."

Hidden Heart of Gold:

She'll try to excuse any altruistic acts as self serving in some manner. Nobody buys it. Anders actually tease her about it, and invoke the trope by name.

Most obviously in Act 2 where her Big Damn Hero entrance has her irritably say that "This is your damned influence, Hawke!"

Hidden Weapons: She mentions she keeps some daggers hidden with her at all times. Even when she's naked.

Hit Me, Dammit!: Enables this as a plan to get to Castillion. Also one of her many battle quotes.

Honorary Aunt: She becomes this towards Anders and Areida's three children. She especially has a close bond with their only daughter Leandra who idolizes her.

#dragon age #dragon age 2 #Isabela #captain isabela #tv tropes #Raiders #Pirates

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the-letter-horror-lover · 2 years

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caging the bird by asheyuis

Anime » Naruto Rated: M, English, Tragedy & Angst, Words: 695, Published: Aug 25, 2017

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

One Year Ago.

Uzumaki Naruto promised to free the Branch Members during the Chunin Exam of the Invasion.

The Branch Members still held hope.

Two Years Ago.

Uzumaki Naruto was off on a training trip with Jiraiya of the Sannin for Three Long Years.

Hyuga Neji himself trained as well...still holding hope.

Three Years Ago.

Uzumaki Naruto was still on the training trip.

Hyuga Hinata started to try and incorporate Branch Members into conversations.

Four Years Ago.

Uzumaki Naruto had returned and had forgotten about them?

The small thread of hope they were clinging to grew larger as it remembered that Uzumaki had to become Hokage first.

Five Years Ago.

The Fourth Great Shinobi War was in full swing.

Branch Members pushed the thought into a tiny dark corner of their brain and fought for their world.

Six Years Ago.

Fourth Shinobi War ended. Senju Tsunade stepped down and Rokudaime Hatake Kakashi stepped up.

They lied to themselves that this was the next step.

...Neji Hyuga died.

Seven Years Ago.

Uzumaki Naruto became Hokage-in-Training.

They often wondered when he'd actually become Hokage.

Eight Years Ago.

Their hope drew to an end.

Frayed threads scattered.

Nanadaime Uzumaki Naruto reigned.

And Hyuga Neji's son started preparations.

Nine. Years. Ago.

Branch Members rebelled, the cursed lines on their foreheads no longer there.

The Hyuga Clan and the village of Konohagakure itself spilt into Civil War.

Blood splattered the ground as the Nanadaime himself joined the fray, ripping and tearing through the Branch Members ruthlessly as they dared threaten his precious village.

The fiery-golden cloak of the Kyuubi no Kitsune rose and slaughtered everything in its path.

Nanadaime Uzumaki Naruto didn't

even

say

"sorry"

Ten Years...

Nanadaime Uzumaki Naruto descended into the dimly lit secret passageway that led into the dungeons, where the rest of the Hyuga Branch Members resided. The result of the Main Family Members winning the Civil War meant that the Branch Members were reduced down so much that Naruto could count them on one hand.

The Branch Members made up 80% of the Hyuga Clan.

Deathly white prisoners raised their heads, then dropped them back down again as the sound of footsteps faded away.

After all, Naruto was looking for one person.

He slammed his hands against the cell bars and snarled. "What would your parents have thought of you? What would Neji have thought of you now?!"

Hyuga Hikaru looked up from his mossy cobblestone floor and replied with the exact same words he'd yelled at the Nanadaime during the Civil War. "Chunin Exam of the Invasion." Cracked, bloody lips pulled back to reveal yellow teeth. "Remember, Ho-ka-ge? What. Did you promise.?"

Despite the fairly guttural sounds coming out of Hikaru's mouth, his pearl eyes shone with truimph and his voice, tinged with laughter.

Naruto could only furrow his brows in confusion as he tried to remember that far back.

Kurama sighed and closed his eyes.

"...what? No, no, no. Hikaru, I'm sorry sorry sorry sorry I just, just couldn't remember and, and—"

"Save your SHIT! Where were you?! We waited NINE long years, your Kage reign for TWO! And when Hatake Kakashi reigned, HE WAS YOUR FUCKING SENSEI! Shut. Your. Trap. It's too late. And now you apologise? I saw you murder my KIN without even a sorry. It's. Too. Late."

A tear slipped out of Naruto's eye.

and

turned

The Kyuubi no Kitsune always knew how to run at the very least.

Hikaru's laughter blended into Neji's and Naruto ran, trying to shake the shattered glass of a broken promise from his mind.

He'd failed Neji.

And now Neji's son.

END.

AN: So this was another plot bunny. I dunno if any of you will get the feels from this, because I didn't really but that's really just because apparently I'm apathetic to the world around me. Bleh. Anyways, this was just another oneshot although I might make something similar, along the lines of another broken promise.

caramel-corvus goes to school.

#boruto fanfiction

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draconym · 3 years

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Good luck with pigeoning! Pigeons are treated like pests and that upsets me :(

I mean the humans did this to pigeons they are not responsible for tryong to live normal life :(

Anyway have a nice day! And also can I get another pic of the pigeon?

Thanks! I agree. My local wildlife rehabber, who did offer to rehab the pigeon after I left her a voicemail, definitely thinks I am totally nuts now for arranging for it to be sent to Georgia.

It’s true that this is, collectively, an extraordinary amount of effort to go to for a “pest” animal. Wildlife rehabbers tend to be extremely busy people who care for hundreds or even thousands of animals every year, so it’s simply not possible for them to do this for every feral or least-concern bird that could conceivably be saved. (And in the case of invasives like starlings and house sparrows, it’s environmentally damaging to release them, and most of them wouldn’t make great pets--rehabbers often have little choice but to turn them away or euthanize them).

But ... we bred pigeons to love us, and then we abandoned them in our cities. From a pigeon’s perspective it’s very unfair. Pigeons tame so easily that I’m willing to bet in a couple weeks or months this bird could become someone’s beloved pet. If it’s lucky, it might get a decade of life to live in someone’s home!

Not my home, though. I already have five birds in my house. ;)

This is a picture that my housemate took yesterday evening, where you can see both Passenger’s pretty red legs and an unfortunately drooping wing. I didn’t take any photos of them this morning because (and this is good news), they now have the energy to dislike me! They even grunted at me (that’s pigeon for ”leave me alone!”) when I checked on them last night. That’s already a big improvement from the listless “this may as well happen” bird I picked up off the asphalt.

Once they’re not a little ball of pain and stress, someone will be able to win them over with treats. While they’re recuperating, I’d rather not bother them more than necessary.

#the great pigeon relay #bird #pigeon #passenger #seyvetch

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huayno · 3 years

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from neon genesis evangelion, vol. 12

The Mysterious Stranger

The Anime, the Manga, and the Mark Twain Novella

"God will provide for this kitten." "What makes you think so?" Ursula's eyes snapped with anger. "Because I know it!" she said. "Not a sparrow falls to the ground without His seeing it." "But it falls, just the same. What good is seeing it fall?"

—from The Mysterious Stranger

There is a short novel by Mark Twain, written near the end of his life and published posthumously, entitled The Mysterious Stranger. The tale is set in a small village in 16th century Austria, where three boys one day meet a young man different from themselves: "he had new and good clothes on, and was handsome and had a winning face and a pleasant voice, and was easy and graceful and unembarrassed, not slouchy and awkward and diffident, like other boys."

The mysterious stranger starts to do small but amazing tricks for them—causing water to turn to ice; conjuring grapes and bread out of air; even making birds that can fly out of clay. At last one boy, the story's narrator, works up the courage to ask the stranger who he is:

"'An angel,' he said, quite simply, and set another bird free and clapped his hands and made it flyaway."

The angel then proceeds to really impress them by making an entire toy castle, complete with five hundred miniature soldiers and workmen that move around by themselves. Naturally the boys get involved with this ultimate playset, making their own knights and cannon and cavalry, and although they get rather nervous again when the angel reveals his name is Satan, he assures them he is not that Satan, but only named after the fallen one.

"We others are still ignorant of sin; we are not able to commit it; we are without blemish, and we shall abide in that estate always." Distracted by two of the miniature workmen, "Satan reached out his hand and crushed the life out of them with his fingers... and went on talking where he had left off: 'We cannot do wrong; neither have we any disposition to do it, for we do not know what it is." Horrified as the other boys are, "he made us drunk with the joy of being with him and of looking into the heaven of his eyes, and of feeling the ecstasy that thrilled along our veins from the touch of his hand.'"

Yes, Kaworu Nagisa made quite an impression on the fans of Neon Genesis Evange/ion, despite the fact that, in the original broadcast version of the TV show (before it got all director's-cutted, box-setted, special-editioned, and platinum-lined) he shows up for only slightly less than thirteen minutes of total screen time, the climax of which being an entire minute where nothing happens at all.

That's what being a beautiful angel will do for you, especially when you make the most of your thirteen minutes on Earth by having a Whirlwind romance with the main character that ends in a lover's quarrel with Prog Knives and finally a voluntary martyrdom at the hand of your boy here. Relationships don't come any more tragic than that of Kaworu Nagisa and Shinji Ikari, and when fans (including this one) first saw it on TV, the affair was so brief and shocking the story logic of it didn't click in until much later.

In the anime, Kaworu is acknowledged as the Final Messenger, and, of all the Angels Shinji has to fight, this is the most ruthless battle, won at the highest possible cost to himself. It took even longer for me to realize that the showdown in episode 24 had also taken us full circle from Shinji's first fight in episodes 1 and 2, which emphasized his personal helplessness against the looming Angel Sachiel. Against Kaworu, it is the Angel who becomes the small, helpless figure, while Shinji is represented only by the gargantuan, frightful helm and arm of his Eva Unit-O1. We never see Shinji's human face once throughout the whole final minute of decision.

So as Col. Trautman would have said instead of Major Katsuragi, "It's over, Shinji! IT'S OVER!" Kaworu v. Shinji (or Kaworu x Shinji, in the doujinshi) was the big final showdown between humanity and the Angels. And with the outcome leaving Shinji at his most wretched ever, wouldn't it be nice if everyone just died—your wish being Eva's command, as it turns out that fortunately humanity hardly ever needed the Angels to slaughter itself.

"I am perishing already—I am failing—I am passing away. In a little while you will be alone in shoreless space, to wander its limitless solitudes without friend or comrade forever...But I, your poor servant, have revealed you to yourself and set you free. Dream other dreams, and better!"

—from The Mysterious Stranger

Satan's words near the end of Mark Twain's story also uncannily prefigure the end of the world and the Instrumentality project, both of which follow his death in the TV show in such quick order you picture Anno as a hairnetted fry cook dinging the counter bell. By now you see Sadamoto's handling of Kaworu, and perhaps nothing illustrates the different experiences of the manga and the anime better than his handling of this critical character.

No longer the last Angel to be fought, Kaworu actually becomes an active Eva pilot and fights an Angel—the dude even has the nerve to observe the fight is fixed, based on his knowledge of SEELE's prophecies. Sadamoto of course introduces him at an earlier point in the narrative—at the equivalent of episode 19's end—and then sends him to NERV near the equivalent of episode 22's beginning—before certain important events, to put it mildly, can occur. When one notes this kind of thing, of course, it's important to restate that the Evangelion manga has always been a separate but equal "official" version of Eva, with no particular obligation to align itself with the anime, and indeed it was with Book Five, the first released after The End of Evangelion, that Sadamoto began to truly seem free to go in his own direction.

Nevertheless, as the "other" official version of the Eva story, it is reasonable for fans to view it as an "alternate history" relative to the anime, and the way Kaworu has been introduced makes us realize the manga may end very differently indeed. Despite the fact we know here that Kaworu is an Angel from the very beginning, he appears destined to at least hang around long enough to pick up a few paychecks. It's not clear when your health benefits kick in at NERV, although if Ritsuko is your primary caregiver it might be best to forego them.

Sadamoto's remarks upon visiting the U.S. in 2003 indicated that the Eva manga might (might) be planned as a twelve-volume series in all. There is still plenty of room for speculation, as the slow working pace to which the artist himself often refers has of late become almost relativistic—as of this writing, it has been eight months since Sadamoto has drawn a new installment of Eva in Japan, and hence a Volume Ten is nowhere in sight. It may be small comfort, but those of you reading this are pretty much in the same drifting boat as the Japanese fans.

"An angel's love is sublime, adorable, divine, beyond the imagination of man—infinitely beyond it! But it is limited to his own august order. If it fell upon one of your race for only an instant, it would consume its object to ashes. No, we cannot love men but we can be harmlessly indifferent to them; we can also like them, sometimes."

—from The Mysterious Stranger

And with Book Nine we see the most staggering difference thus far between the manga and the anime; Sadamoto's Shinji doesn't even like Kaworu, much less love him. Of course, you could say the less-ethereal Kaworu of the manga is harder to love. I can't believe Sadamoto had him tell Rei he thought she'd be "heftier." And yet he did.

I don't think any A.T. Fields actually got penetrated in the anime; while I do think Shinji felt sexually attracted to Kaworu, and that you the audience are supposed to feel that he felt it, what Kaworu himself thought was a very different matter. Like Rei, I believe Kaworu to be innocent—coyly, he appears not to be so, because while Rei needed to be reached out to, Kaworu has come to reach out; whereas Rei has spent her existence being observed; Kaworu has come to observe.

Indeed, in the manga, Shinji's irritation about Kaworu's invasion of his personal space seems almost a parody of his attitude in the anime. In the TV show, when Kaworu put his hand on Shinji's, he flinched but did not pull away; whereas in the manga it's easy to imagine Shinji slugging him. Instead he goes to run after Rei, hoping to get closer to her again.

I hardly think the change reflects any phobia on Sadamoto's part (after all, we even get to see Shinji's "Unit One" in the manga), but the fact the manga Shinji is less emotionally bleak and empty, and hence less vulnerable. Shinji's just as negative in the manga, of course, but it's an active variety, rather than the passive negative creep (in the best Nirvana song sense) we know from the anime. We don't have to imagine him slugging Gendo; from the look of surprise on Dad's face in Book Seven he would have smacked the beard off his face if Kaji hadn't stopped him.

Neither is Shinji in a positive emotional situation where we leave him here, either; indeed at this point in the manga there's arguably no one he can turn to—the more brutal fate that befell Toji has cut him off from his school friends, Rei has become hesitant, Kaji is dead, and his perennial self-esteem booster Asuka is going to need to rebuild her internal supply before she can even get back to calling him a loser and idiot.

So, like Misato trying to put her own hand on Shinji's, all I can do for now while we wait for Sadamoto-sensei is to recommend for your winter vacation reading list The Mysterious Stranger, which I can almost guarantee will give you new angles to think about Kaworu, and may even earn you class credit besides. A quick look at the novel's comments on Amazon list a teacher who says fundamentalist students walked out of his class when he taught it; another compares it to The Matrix; those who dislike it call it "sick," "bitter," and "twisted." Sounds like good old Evangelion to me!

—Carl Gustav Horn

[a drawing of Kaworu holding a kitten]

Although The Mysterious Stranger can also be found in a number of print editions, including The Portable Mark Twain from Penguin (haw haw), the story, being from the days when mp3s came on shellacked cylinders, is legally available online at http://etext.lib.virginia.edu/toc/modeng/public/TwaMyst.html. The same site has a book called The Holy Bible, King James Version, which fans of Evangelion might also enjoy, although it's technically "Editor's Choice."

#eva #kaworu nagisa #idec if twain didn't write that shit #i'm all over this

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1kook · 4 years

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acatalepsy

— 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 ; 𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐞𝐭𝐡

chapter summary; Since the appearance of the entity the world he knew had begun to dismantle itself. Societies they had spent centuries building up crumbling in the mere span of a few weeks. He hadn’t seen a person in almost a month now, and the first ones he did see almost beat and humiliated him to death. He can’t be blamed for his pessimistic outlook. overall warnings; gorey scenes, depictions of death, appearance of weapons, survival!au, apocalypse!au, super l o o s e bird box!au (no birds - jk is the bird 👀), eventual smut, dark and angsty, character death chapter specifics; depictions of death, depictions of animal dissection, fall of society, otherworldly entities, appearance of weapons, assault of main character, mentioned acts of self-sacrifice, brief nudity wc; 8.2k

notes; yes this is dark and sad BUT it’s the introductory part where I have to dump all this info on u guys so u understand later hehe enjoy, all feedback is welcome !!!

special thanks to; rumu ( @kigurumu ) my amazing proof reader and editor🥺 i would be in a ditch without her ...

When Jungkook was in his last year of primary school, his class had been tasked with the very grown up job of caring for the school’s pet rabbit. It was a fuzzy brown ball that lived in a wooden cage, built along the side of their communal garden; a little on the overweight side, a fact that greatly confused the school. As far as his classmates and teachers were concerned, the rabbit ate its regularly scheduled two meals during school hours, an additional serving given to him by the night custodian. A scan through the cameras proved that no one broke into the primary school lot after hours, no one was unnecessarily feeding the rabbit. So there was really no reason for the rabbit to be as big as it was.

But Jungkook knew better.

The rabbit, as endearing and angelic as it appeared, was an intelligent creature that had wormed its way through a loose board on the side of his cage, sneaking into the neighboring garden frequently to munch through their cherry tomatoes. It always did so when it knew no one was around, save for the day Jungkook had seen it, the two of them caught in a staring battle that had both parties grappling for a way out.

Jungkook had never snitched.

He simply pocketed that little secret for himself to laugh about when his mind drifted too far from the material on the chalkboard. He remembered the tiny twitch of its nose as it regarded Jungkook. Its eyes were two dark marbles, no signs of the milky white that Jungkook had, zeroed in on Jungkook’s frozen figure. In the moment, Jungkook was amazed by its cunning nature, even more so by the way it had come to recognize him, repeatedly showing off his little trick whenever it was Jungkook’s turn to clean his cage. He slipped to and from the garden with ease, as if he trusted Jungkook to carry this secret to the grave.

He did, and when he graduated from primary school into secondary school, he often found himself wondering what that sneaky rabbit was up to then. Had it been discovered? Had the adults caught wind of the rabbit’s thieving nature and patched up the board? He’d never know. All he knew was that rabbits were quite devious creatures. A cute exterior that hid a more complex personality.

It is probably why he doesn’t feel a single ounce of remorse now, dark brown fur clutched tightly between his knuckles, squeezing until the last breath escapes the small rodent. The memory flashes through his eyes, a glance into an innocence he will never have again. The rabbit thrashes in between his hands, muscular legs kicking wildly until finally, it falls still.

He should feel bad, he knows he should.

This animal had played a nostalgic role in his youth; for a brief moment, this rabbit had been a leading source of happiness for him. Its black eyes remain open, forever frozen on Jungkook during its last few moments. Jungkook should be disappointed in himself for ever harming such a creature, and he almost does, before he’s interrupted by the painful tightening of his insides contracting on an empty stomach.

So he pushes it away, choosing to rise to his feet instead, dead catch dangling in one hand.

The trek back to the gas station is lonely. When he crosses the street, there is no angry driver to honk at him for not checking both ways, or a jogger rudely bumping into his shoulder. The street is empty just like the rest of the town.

Jungkook imagines it was probably like this before anyway. It’s practically in the middle of nowhere, this place he finds himself in, just another unimpressionable name on a map that Jungkook’s probably never heard of. There’s a main street lined with essentials—a diner, a car shop, and this gas station—and a few tiny homes littered behind it. It was one of those places his family would drive through on their way to see a far-off family member or as a stop on a road trip.

Either way, it looks exactly like the handful of towns he’s been through, all small and empty just like this. At least in the city there was variety, there was excitement. The most exciting thing Jungkook sees these days is the occasional deer.

The bell above the door chimes when Jungkook enters, not that there is anyone it would have alerted of his presence. It’s empty just like the rest of the town. Well, kinda. There’s a body in the women’s restroom that had scared the shit out of Jungkook when he first arrived, had left him trembling in shock for about an hour before he was able to go back and tug the stall door shut.

He finds them occasionally, the undeserving victims of an evil he will never understand. Each encounter wears him down, until eventually he feels no emotion toward them at all. They were bodies, he tells himself, nothing else.

How they ended up like that is another story in itself.

Truthfully, Jungkook isn’t completely sure how it happened, but he remembers when it started.

He remembers the cacophony of laughter that had filled their club bus, some corny Top 50 song filling the speakers, as they had celebrated another win that would push them further up the league ranks. His feet were sore from all the running they’d done on the pitch that day, and he was hungry as hell. Luckily they’d been on their way to their favorite celebratory diner, ready to suck the place dry of its Cherry Coke and bottomless fries the same way they did every other Saturday after a victory.

Jungkook’s coach had pulled him aside shortly before they arrived and had mentioned the possibility of Jungkook becoming the team’s captain next season. He had been ecstatic at the news, immediately pulling his phone out to call his dad.

His hand stills on the counter where the dead rabbit is limply sprawled across. He can’t remember where the switchblade he’d opened last week was, so he stomps to the other end of the shop, snatching another one off a rack. The only problem then is the zip tie that binds the blade to the cardboard display sheet. It doesn’t give when he tugs at it, and with a growing sense of irritation, Jungkook realizes he doesn’t know where the scissors are either. Before he can get too down on himself for misplacing things again, he angrily tears at the tie, loops two fingers on opposite ends. The skin on his palms pales at the pressure, and one mighty tug later has the tie snapping apart.

There. Now he could skin the rabbit in peace.

His dad answered on the second ring, immediately launching into a congratulatory song. Jungkook’s parents watched all his games, sometimes from the sidelines, sometimes through a TV. They were his biggest fans, the same people who had first enrolled him into summer little league watching him grow into the leading scorer of his city’s club.

The first chorus had just ended when the coach bus began swerving, the men stumbling across the aisle as it became apparent it wouldn’t stop anytime soon. Their manager had shouted first, snapped at them to find their seats, before lurching forward to the driver’s seat to presumably stabilize the vehicle. An effort made in vain when the bus flipped. It had almost happened in slow motion, Jungkook recalls, the two turns of the bus, ultimately skidding to a stop on its side, ramming straight into a light pole.

The initial shock had lasted for a few beats, the pained groans from his teammates around him slowly filtering back into his ringing ears. Some of them had panicked right away, choked gasps as they struggled to breathe. Dongmin was the first to get up, jamming the emergency window open on the side of the bus that wasn’t flush to the pavement.

Immediately, Jungkook knew something was very wrong.

Outside there were terrified screams from all around, the telltale shriek of car brakes working hard, the eerie wailing of weather sirens. Was it a storm? A quake? Jungkook didn’t know as he climbed out of the wreckage, taking Mingyu’s hand as he hopped off the side of their bus.

The ears are cut off first.

Two, silky appendages that don’t stand a chance against the blade. Without them, Jungkook finds the rabbit looks funnily enough like an otter. But with the separation of the ears comes an unsettling feeling in Jungkook’s chest as he falters.

He’s never killed a rabbit before, but he has killed a handful of birds these past few weeks. He imagines the process is the same. With the birds, one quick twist of the neck made them go limp, their feathers easily falling away. With the rabbit, Jungkook only remembers the rapid thumping of its hind legs and the soft texture of its ears.

He didn't particularly care for the birds—and he probably never would. The rabbit, his memories remind him, is a different story.

There was neither a storm nor a quake that had brought upon this chaos. Whirling around, there was no imminent attack occurring, no invasion, that could cause all these people to suddenly lose all semblance of normalcy.

There was a woman beside a fire hydrant, an abandoned stroller flipped on its side. A bundle of fabric in her arms cried loudly, nearly drowning out her own tears as she begged for her life. From what? There was nothing attacking her, nothing threatening her and her child. But the longer Jungkook watched, the more distraught she became, until eventually, her eyes cleared over. Her screaming stopped, though the baby’s continued. She began ramming her head face-first against the metal of the hydrant, blood gushing down over her eyes.

Jungkook and his teammates had stood by in horror, watched her bash her head in until she fell back lifelessly, the child on her chest wailing before a sight it would never understand.

It was Jaehyun who had urged them to move the second time, pulled him away from the scene before them.

With every stride he took, he was rewarded with similar scenes. All around him the chaos spread, people being infected with this, this madness, Jungkook supposed.

They’d stepped out of their cars in a daze, eyes clouded over before taking their own lives in a multitude of ways. It was a disturbing scene to watch, one that spurred Jungkook to run faster and faster, until he bumped into the back of a teammate that had been running before him. He remembers the shout he’d let out, frustratedly scolding the man for stopping now of all times. He was their main striker, could run faster than anyone else on the team, yet here he was, frozen stiff.

Then, slowly, he’d turned around. Jungkook had watched as if behind a glass wall, watched a man he had played alongside with for years saunter over to where the railing of the highway began. His face was devoid of any fear, almost peaceful, as he climbed over.

Jungkook coughs, the overwhelming stench of animal blood flooding his nostrils. This is always the most difficult part for him, trying to overcome the initial putrid stench as he slices the animal open with one clean cut down its ventral side. When he does, one of the rabbit’s hind legs surprises him by twitching.

He vaguely remembers learning this in a high school anatomy class. Something about the stiffening of muscles after death. Rigor mortis? He’s not really sure, pushing the leg to lay flat against the table gently. He lets out a humorless snort, like this animal needed this type of caring treatment now.

The wail Jungkook had let out had wrenched itself from the depths of his soul, and he fell to the ground in horror at the scene he’d just witnessed. His forehead touched the rough pavement beneath him, body trembling as his mind struggled to process the world around him. As he did so, a strong gust of wind whipped around him, the mania around him increasing as it went. It fluttered through the cotton of his tracksuit, tickled his skin as it went, until eventually disappearing.

He had either laid there for seconds or hours. Jungkook wasn’t sure. Dongmin had been the one that had finally hauled him to his feet, grip deathly tight around his wrist as he pulled him along.

They ran and ran, until the forest outside the city came to view. He didn’t want to look back, in fear that whatever had possessed those people would get him too. He was out of breath and lost, caught up in the whirlwind of whatever those things were that made people lose their minds. He was comforted by the fact Dongmin was there. Mingyu and Jaehyun, too. He was too afraid to ask where the others were.

There’s a hot dog cooker on the counter, thick with years of grease. The overhead heating lamp takes a moment to flicker to life, and when Jungkook decides it’s stable, he tosses his lunch onto it, watches the pink meat roll back and forth.

He could use the sacks of coal littered along the back aisle to start a real fire, the prongs and tools above them, but that was too much work.

They had done fine for a while, aimlessly traveling about in search of help. But after the first town they realized whatever happened that day in the city wasn’t an isolated event. The entity had scoured through this town too, leaving bodies in its wake at a smaller scale compared to what had happened in the city, but just as horrific. They were a fleeting creature, whatever they were, that confronted people with their greatest fears. Infected them with a madness, as Jungkook has grown to call it, so twisted and gruesome that it drove people insane. After infecting every person with the madness they’d leave. They seldom returned, most likely content with the way they left things.

From Jungkook’s understanding, the entity was a singular being that felt like a thousand. It could easily spread over large places, infect everyone with the madness at once, but that would be too easy. It took pleasure in catching people one by one, focusing its powers to properly torture each individual to the fullest.

Their little gang had gotten along fairly okay after that realization, their own natural abilities supporting each other. Dongmin led them, mostly because he was the only one among them with a sense of direction. Jungkook knew which way was what only when the sun rose and set. During the day he was clueless. Dongmin always knew which way was north or south, east or west, regardless of the time of day.

Mingyu and Jaehyun had been the brawns of the group, muscular bodies lifting fallen signs from in front of shop entrances, wrenching car doors open. There wasn’t a place they couldn’t get into. They were quick to barricade buildings they slept in, even better at dismantling them. Without them, Jungkook thinks they’d have starved early on.

As for Jungkook, well. Jungkook had a special ability under his belt—he could sense the entity before the others. It was difficult to explain such a feeling, but he knew he had it because he’d saved them many a time. Sure, the tell-tale gust of wind alerted them of the entity entering their little circle, but that was useless. Once the entity was there, they didn’t go away until they completed whatever fucked up mission they had.

It was a tickling on the back of his neck, the faint feeling of never being alone that Jungkook felt, usually a few minutes before they appeared. It was like the uncomfortable silence of a concert hall, the voices all echoey and distorted. It awoke an animalistic reaction in Jungkook, one that would have him shoving his friends into a pile of dead bodies.

Whatever it was, they didn’t distinguish well between those alive and those, well, not alive. Tricking them was by no means a simple feat, but it certainly did save them a few times, even if Jungkook was forced to lie face to face with an unmoving figure, stare into the horrified gaze of someone who was taken too soon.

Overall the four of them together were a great team. Well, were. It's been a couple weeks now since they’d gotten separated. Since he got separated, watched their retreating forms head down to a lake to bathe. He had been reckless, forgot about the feeling behind his neck until it was too late, the window shutters of the motel they’d taken shelter in suddenly flailing wildly.

He remembers dropping to the ground with shut eyes, cupping his hands over his ears as the sinister presence of the entity surrounded him, trying to get inside his head. He had suffered through it for twenty minutes, quietly sobbing against the motel’s ugly green carpet.

Just as he’d resigned himself to the same painful death he’d seen so many others fall prey to, he’d heard Mingyu’s harsh laughter, the soft chattering of voices, as his friends returned to the motel.

He knew what he had to do then, desperate to save his friends from suffering through this same, undeserved pain.

So Jungkook did the same thing they’d been doing until then: he ran.

Blindly at first, arms feeling around for the door, for his coat. The pavement of the single road that passed through this town had been smooth, his ratty shoes slapping hard against it. He could feel the tears squeezing out from his screwed eyelids, the air that whipped at his face with every step he took. The entity had followed him for hours, whispering in his ear, caressing his skin.

He’s not sure how long he ran, how long he wished it would all end, as he listened to those twisted visions. Jungkook just knows that one moment he was running, and the next he was falling, tumbling into a small stream filled with cold water that soaked him to the bone.

Beneath the water, all sound was distorted. He couldn’t hear the entity, nor sense its all-consuming presence. And when Jungkook had broken through the surface, gasping for air, he couldn’t feel it there either.

In his paranoia, he had sat there for an hour, routinely dunking his head in and out until he was brave enough to open his eyes again.

That had been weeks ago. Jungkook’s great escape from the entity feels so far away now, he thinks, idly watching the meat roll over the hot dog cooker. It’ll be hours before it’s cooked safely, but Jungkook will probably grow impatient and eat it before. Whatever, he thinks, settling against a plastic chair behind the counter. The cash box is unlocked, a multitude of bills sitting out in the open. Jungkook flips through them, figures they’re pretty useless now.

If the entity had been able to dismantle a city as populous as the one Jungkook had lived in, the one he had spent his whole life in, he imagines it’s done it again. After all, the towns he’s crossed through until this point were all devoid of life.

He’d like to wash his hands after touching all that money, but he knows none of the water lines in this town work. He can’t remember the last time he’d had a shower or cleaned himself. The old clean freak in him was suffering.

He’s just about settled in for a nap when he hears something.

It’s quiet at first, a faint humming from outside. As it grows closer it becomes louder, until Jungkook can distinguish the sounds of chattering somewhere down the street. Shit, he panics. He’ll never be able to say why exactly the thought of meeting other people terrifies him, but it does. He slinks down behind the counter, glancing at the emergency exit that leads to the dumpsters behind the gas station.

He shifts over slowly, ears perked like the rabbit’s. The voices grow closer, and when the bell over the door rings, Jungkook uses the opportunity to shuffle completely across the floor.

There’s a ball of nerves caught in his throat as he listens to these people come in, though it will never match up to the fear that the entity instills in him. They move around the shop, picking up things as they go. There’s a relaxed tone to their words, like they’re the least bit worried about whatever horror awaits them, just another group of friends stopping by a convenience store.

In another life, he’d feel drawn to such a group. He was a somewhat shy kid in high school, too focused on his training to truly make friends. Not that he didn’t have any; the soccer team had always been his friends. Jungkook could always count on them, young boys and men who were there for him at the lowest points in his career. College had been the same, and by the time he made it into the league nothing much had changed.

After being separated from his friends now, he doesn’t see the point in making new ones. They were all going to die anyway.

When he places his hand on the doorknob, the metal releases an obnoxiously loud creak. Jungkook freezes, as do the people on the other side of the counter. The longest second of his life passes, breath caught in his throat as he waits for them to brush it off, letting him escape into the forest behind him in peace.

They eventually do, conversations picking up albeit more quietly than before. Jungkook exhales, tightens his hand around the knob as he turns it. It doesn’t make a sound.

But when Jungkook nudges the door open, the opposing air on both ends emits a popping noise, and that sets the group off. “What was that?” One of them barks, and before they can find him, Jungkook is flinging the door open, all reservations thrown aside as he stumbles into the forest.

He tears through the initial overgrowth of bushes behind the gas station, stumbling into the dirt. Faceless voices are shouting behind him, their hurried footsteps jumping over the counter in their attempt to grab him.

Fuck, why were they chasing him? Why couldn’t they just let him leave? He wasn’t the entity they feared, he was just some guy trying to live.

He runs for about twenty yards, but the tree line nearest to the town is thin, and he doesn’t doubt they can see him out in plain sight. He needs to lose them and fast. Running a few more meters, he dives into a thicket of bushes. If he curls himself up small enough, maybe they won’t see the glimpses of his blue tracksuit from above.

He knows it’s stupid, thinking the distance will delude them into thinking he was farther or closer, but what else can Jungkook do? Literally nothing. He hugs his knees to his chest, slows his breathing as they come up closer.

“Where’d he go?” One of them shouts a few meters ahead of him.

Jungkook holds his breath, listens to their dragging footsteps against the forest floor. They pad around for a few minutes, probably sweeping over the tree line in search of him. One of them comes scarily close to his hiding spot, and through the gaps in the flora, Jungkook can see a knife strapped around their thigh. Eventually, they seem to congregate a little further away from him, quiet murmurs as they pronounce him gone.

Jungkook nearly cries in relief when they begin marching away.

He celebrates too soon.

“You alright?” One of them calls to another, and a long beat of silence follows. Jungkook wonders if they got injured, hurt themselves in their hurry to catch him, but he finds he doesn’t really care anyway. Just as that selfish thought hits, so does someone’s boot against his face.

Jungkook splutters, the iron taste of blood flooding his mouth as someone drags him out from the bush, the cold glare of a stranger greets his blurry vision. “Got ya,” he sneers, shoving Jungkook down to the ground. “Look what I found,” he calls to the others, and they all chatter excitedly at his find, swarming Jungkook’s body.

A wave of emotion floods him one by one. First is the fear that tightens around his heart when he registers the guns in their hands, on their waists, or over their backs. The knife alone had startled Jungkook; the sight of an even more murderous weapon scared him shitless. Second is the confusion, similar to the one from earlier. Didn’t they recognize there were bigger, scarier evils out there to worry about? Why were they so bent on catching him, just another straggler as far as they were concerned. Lastly is overwhelming humiliation.

Here he was, pushed to the ground in front of a group of strangers who sneered and laughed at his trembling form. They were obviously amused by his discomfort. Jungkook never wanted to hide so bad in his life.

The one from before nudges him hard in the ribs, pulling a pained groan from Jungkook. “Who are you with?” He spits, narrowed eyes focused on Jungkook.

Jungkook flounders, weakly covering his body with his arms. “H-Huh?” He stutters, not understanding their question. Who was he with? Obviously no one. Why else would he be here hiding in the forest like a baby?

The man, who Jungkook assumes is their leader, doesn’t find his answer amusing it seems, as he digs the toe of his shoe against Jungkook’s side again, rough enough to fracture. “Who the fuck are you with?” He repeats. Jungkook flinches.

What is he supposed to say? No one, I’m alone and scared of whatever is out here. As if the man would understand. The glint in his eye tells Jungkook he won’t be gaining any sympathy points with that one.

Enraged with Jungkook’s lack of response, he begins raining down more painful blows against him. The others join in, kicking his quivering body until Jungkook is crying out, begging them to stop.

After all his grueling efforts running from the entity, he can’t believe he’s going to die at the hands of another human. Fate was cruel.

Just as he’s resigned himself to his shameful death, the crack of a gun bounces across the treeline, the whizzing of a bullet filling his ears. For a moment he thinks he’s been shot, body coiling up as his attackers slow to a stop.

But then one of them curses, hiking his weapon into his arms. “Fuck, where are they?”

“I don’t know!” Another responds, whirling away to scan over the area. With their attention turned away, Jungkook goes to escape, making a pitiful attempt at crawling away. “I don’t see anyone.”

The leader seethes at the reply. “Well, they’re fucking here.”

Jungkook doesn’t know who ‘they’ are or why this admittedly terrifying group of individuals is afraid of them, but he supposes he should be too. After all, whatever scared these folks was certain to petrify him.

Another gunshot sends them scrambling apart, the metal bullet digging into the wood of a tree just behind Jungkook. They all see it, his attackers sharing a look of unease amongst themselves. Finally, they seem to come to the same conclusion, gesturing for the leader to speak.

“Alright,” he shouts to no one in particular. “We get it. We’ll back off now.”

A pause, another shared look, before they slowly begin retreating in the direction of the gas station. Jungkook wants to follow them, despite how scary they are, because he’s even more terrified of whoever scared them off. When he leans up onto his elbow, one of them kicks it from under him, sending him face first into the soil.

They snicker as they leave. “Good luck with those bitches,” one of them jeers, gives him a wonderful parting gift by spitting in his face.

Feeling thoroughly humiliated, Jungkook stays put.

Maybe it’s better to let whoever is out there just end this for him now. He can’t believe his first interaction with people outside of his friends was this degrading, this disheartening. Why had he spent so much time running from the entity if this is what waited at the other end?

The rev of an engine starts up, and he watches in disgust as a Jeep full of assholes takes off down the road, hurling a multitude of insults his way one last time.

As if he didn't feel bad enough already.

So caught up in his depressing thoughts, he forgets about whoever scared them off in the first place, finally sitting up and dusting himself off. His already dirty tracksuit reeks from weeks of usage, the front now stained with blood. When he reaches up to wipe the spit off his face, he sees the dirt that crusts over the sleeve. Would anything ever go right for him?

Something moves to his left.

Jungkook pales, stills his movements as the shuffling continues, eventually registering in his ears as the harsh crunch of leaves under someone’s boot. His heart thunders in his chest, expecting another kick to the face, a shove to the ground. When a hand touches his shoulder he nearly sobs.

“It’s just a kid,” a gruff voice calls out, and the announcement has more people crawling out of obscure hiding places, more strangers appearing before him, until a new set of faces towers over him.

There’s not as many of them, only about six that surround him. The group from before easily outnumbered them two to one.

Amidst the people, one person maneuvers their way to the front, an inquisitive face that’s presence makes everyone step away from the claustrophobic half-circle they’ve formed around him. “Let me see,” the woman says, dropping down to a squat before him. She's got a pistol attached to her hip, a larger rifle slung over her back.

Her eyes flicker over Jungkook’s face, and his over hers. She’s got ethereal features, he thinks, that don’t match the automatic weapons decorating her body. Despite the protection she carries, Jungkook doesn’t feel the same crippling fear from before. In fact, there’s something comforting about the way she glances over him, over his bruised eye and bloody nose.

A hand taps his cheek, a tentative pat, as if she senses he’s not fully there. “Hey,” she greets carefully, meeting his gaze for the first time. “You okay?”

Jungkook doesn’t know what to say. For many reasons, he was obviously not. Mentally, he was still as distressed as he was the first day the madness hit, since the entity appeared. He feels like he’s going insane from the weeks he’s spent wandering through a desolate world, alone and desperate for human interaction, a sort of self-induced madness of his own. He’s so afraid too, but he imagines she understands that. Physically, he doesn’t think he looks much better.

He wants to say, no, not really, those people made me feel more humiliated than I ever have in my entire life and I would like to go home now except my home doesn’t exist anymore and it probably never will.

In a monotone voice he replies, “just peachy.”

A couple of the people behind her snort, and her lips pull into a subtle smile.

“Well,” she claps, rising to her feet. “Glad to hear it.” She sticks out a hand for him. He stares at it like he’s never seen one before. She shakes it in his face, and he belatedly realizes he’s supposed to take it. She hauls him up with a strength Jungkook doesn’t expect, wiggles the sleeve of her dark sweatshirt down in a fruitless attempt to wipe the spit and blood from his face. He imagines it doesn’t do much, but it’s the thought that counts. “My name’s __,” you tell him, and he lets the name roll around his head as he stares deeply into your eyes.

Fifteen minutes ago Jungkook had given up on humanity as those psychos pummeled him into the earth.

He wonders if this is the universe’s way of apologizing to him.

“Jungkook,” he says breathlessly, eyes focused on your every feature, like if he blinks you’ll disappear from right in front of him. He’s partially convinced himself you’re a figment of his imagination, a reprieve his mind provided in these dark times, when you speak again.

“Jungkook,” you repeat; he doesn’t think anyone’s ever pronounced his name so beautifully before, but everything about you seems to be just that.

Vaguely, he remembers learning about this in some freshman psychology class. What was it called? Suspension bridge effect. Was he seeing you like this just because you’d saved him from a very dire situation? Probably. It’ll go away soon, he assures himself.

“Well, Jungkook,” you say, stepping back into the comfort of the group of people with you. The aura you emanate is the complete opposite of his attackers from earlier, despite the fact you’re nearly identical in appearance; dark clothing, utility boots, armed weapons. “Are you alone out here?” He barely remembers to nod. You hum, glancing at the man beside Jungkook who initially stepped out. “My friends and I have a place out here. Hidden from psychos like them,” you glare pointedly at the gas station obscured by the trees, “you’re welcome to come rest up there if you’d like.”

Unlike his attackers your group seems to travel on foot, carefully navigating through the forest like you’ve got it memorized. You stick him with the guy from before, a fellow named Taehyung who’s quite the chatterbox once Jungkook breaks through his serious exterior.

Before anything, Taehyung gives him a practiced speech detailing the horrors of the world right now, almost like he’s had to explain this to people before. Jungkook already knows it all, but still nods along politely to everything he says. The longer they walk, the more anxious he becomes.

Maybe following this pack of strangers back wasn’t the brightest idea, he begins to think. For all he knows you could be exactly the same as that original group of stragglers, luring him deeper into an unknown landscape to kill him. Part of him is disappointed in the negative progression of his thoughts, the lack of faith he has in his fellow human. But what else is he to do?

Since the appearance of the entity the world he knew had begun to dismantle itself. Societies they had spent centuries building up crumbling in the mere span of a few weeks. He hadn’t seen a person in almost a month now, and the first ones he did see almost beat and humiliated him to death. He can’t be blamed for his pessimistic outlook.

They walk through the forest until they reach a creek, a thin trickle of water that widens the further south they go, and continue flush against the water bed. Eventually, Jungkook begins to hear the bustle of more people, which immediately sets him on edge. Taehyung flashes him a wide smile that grows the closer they get to the noise.

His heart pounds in his chest, feels it in his ears.

Part of him is expecting an end to this long journey, maybe a bullet to the head or a knife to the chest. No matter how much he tries to convince himself that you and your friends are nice people, he can’t. He’s caught up in a whirlwind of anxieties, breaths growing more shallow and choked off, and by the time they finally stop walking, he’s nearly struggling to breathe, peering through the trees only to find—

A huddle of tents. A few wooden structures. Some kids kicking around a ball.

A hand claps down on his shoulder, and Jungkook flinches with a loud yelp. “This is Oleander,” you inform him, waving a hand over the tiny establishment.

Oleander.

He walks through the grounds with his shoulders pulled up damn near his ears, nervously glancing around at the people that wander by him. There’s about fifty of them—some older and some younger—that mill about, all greeting him politely. In his shock, their faces all blend together and he can’t tell one apart from another. The first face that his mind truly registers is that of a trustworthy man with a big smile.

Hoseok, you introduce him as before promptly disappearing.

Hoseok is the man who shows him around this Oleander place, walking him to and fro. He’s also the man who shows him to the creek about a hundred meters behind the Oleander base, as he calls it, watches over him as Jungkook scrubs weeks of grime off his skin.

Oleander, apparently, is a safe haven established by Hoseok and you. You make do by scavenging through nearby towns, occasionally sending groups of scavengers farther out. You’re accepting of all those who wish to escape from the entity, finding solace in a carefully secluded plot of land far from any signs of civilization; Strays, Hoseok refers to him and others like him as.

Beneath all the dirt, his skin is tender, soft, and pink. When he rises from the water, he’s extra careful of covering his privates with both hands. Hoseok says nothing of his nudity, tosses him a towel and new clothes, though he advises him to wash his smelly tracksuit anyway. The garments are similar in style to the ones everyone else on this base wears, a collection of muted browns and muddled greens that make him blend into the trees around him. The stained tennis shoes go back on his feet, because Hoseok doesn’t have anything else to offer him at the moment.

“I’m sure you’ve got a lot of questions about what this place is, so feel free to ask me!” Hoseok tells him when they get back, passing by the largest of the wooden structures that smells absolutely heavenly. Suddenly, he remembers the rabbit meat he left on the hotdog cooker.

Jungkook’s mouth starts before his brain. “Why the tents?” He asks, watching people duck in and out of the shabby quarters. They’re camping tents, the same kind his dad used to rent on their family trips. He quickly pushes that memory away.

Hoseok answers his question. “Well, as you probably know, the Thing out there likes hitting up cities, towns. Anywhere with noticeable traces of life,” he explains. Jungkook nods. “This place is pretty empty as you can tell,” he says, gesturing towards the vast expanse of forest around them. “So we’re not too worried about it finding us here. But in the case that it does, however,” he shakes his head here, like he doesn’t even wanna imagine that possibility. “We gotta be ready to move everyone quickly.”

“It’ll follow you,” Jungkook blurts out, hates how negative he sounds telling a sunny man like Hoseok such news.

Hoseok doesn’t seem the least bit phased by Jungkook’s words. “Yeah, but,” he trails off, glancing over the grounds, until he finds what he’s looking for. “We have a secret weapon,” he sings, gestures towards where you’re standing by a group of kids trying to scale the side of a tree.

Now what did that mean? “A… woman?” He says tentatively, and Hoseok laughs.

“You’re a funny guy, Jungkook,” he says, patting his back. “But no. We have someone here with a, let’s say, unique ability,” he explains. Jungkook blinks. Hoseok grins, tugs him close like he’s about to share some national secret with him. “Our friend __ over there can sense the Thing,” Hoseok whispers.

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat. “So can I?”

Hoseok, a fairly relaxed soul as Jungkook is quickly learning, let’s go of him in favor of releasing a deep, belly-shaking chuckle. “Let me guess,” he teases. “The wind and the voices? We can all do that, buddy.”

Jungkook shakes his head, eyes slowly returning to you. You’re holding onto one of the kids now, tucked beneath your arm like a football as you drag them closer to the camp. “No,” Jungkook says softly. “It’s different.”

“Really?” Hoseok drawls, though Jungkook can tell he doesn’t believe him for a second. “What’s it like?” He plays along anyway.

Jungkook shrugs, glances down at his fingers. He recalls the sensation, eyes fluttering shut as he loses himself in the memories. “It’s like… a rope around my throat. Except the knot is never tied, so it just brushes the back of my neck, over and over again.”

When he opens his eyes, Hoseok is staring at him like he has three heads. Jungkook takes a step back, fearing he’s grossly overshared and now they think he’s some nut job. “Holy shit,” Hoseok exhales, glancing over him with wide eyes.

“Seokjin!” He screeches, catching Jungkook’s wrist in between his bony fingers before he can run away. Jungkook’s heart lurches in his chest, cheeks flushing when Hoseok pulls him across the grounds under everyone‘s inquisitive glances. They stop before a tent that’s larger than the others, one flap pinned open. “Seokjin,” Hoseok repeats once inside, the space smelling strongly of antiseptic.

How long have you and your friends, as you called them, been here? There’s a huge amount of medical supplies overflowing inside this tent, like you’ve raided every pharmacy in a fifty mile radius.

Hoseok pushes him into the center of the space, where he nearly bumps into a tall man in glasses. “Seokjin,” Hoseok gasps. “This kid has the thing.”

“Huh? What thing?” The man—Seokjin—asks, seemingly unimpressed with Jungkook’s appearance before him. “Who even is this kid?”

“Jungkook,” Jungkook offers, though it gets lost in Hoseok’s sudden outburst.

“He has the thing,” he emphasizes. “The __ thing.” He glances at the entrance to the tent, like you’ll suddenly appear at the mere mention of your name. You don’t.

Something registers in Seokjin’s features, a slow realization as his eyes flick over to Jungkook. “Holy shit,” he says, wide eyes bouncing between him and Hoseok. “You’re kidding.”

Hoseok looks oddly proud of himself as he plops down on the cot pressed against one end of the tent. “Nope,” he responds. “Described it just like her and everything.”

Seokjin pushes his glasses up his nose, eyes scanning over Jungkook’s frame behind the magnified lens. “Uh huh,” he hums, pinching the skin over his tricep. Jungkook flinches. “I see.”

Jungkook can’t take it anymore. “I’m sorry—who are you?” He blurts out, taking one cautious step away from Seokjin and his grabby hands. He hadn’t interacted with another person in weeks and today alone he was beat up like a loser and now gawked at like a slab of prime meat.

“Oh, right. Kim Seokjin, only registered nurse in this lovely Oleander,” he introduces, sticking one hand out for Jungkook to shake. He does, surprised by the force of his handshake. He doesn’t give Jungkook the chance to introduce himself either, using their connected palms to hold Jungkook’s arm up and glance over him some more. “Lean, healthy. How old did you say you were?”

“Twenty-five,” he responds, snatching his arm away. Seokjin doesn’t seem offended, instead circling around him. Sensing Seokjin won’t be of much help, he turns back to Hoseok. “You said if I had questions to ask you.”

Hoseok nods. “I did.”

Seokjin gasps. “Hobi, look at the thighs on this kid, Jesus,” he exclaims, poking at the corded muscle beneath his borrowed pants. “You run track?”

“Soccer,” he corrects. “Who were those people and why did they attack me before?”

Another voice answers, significantly less loud than the men he was currently stuck with. “Magnolians,” you reply from the entrance. Jungkook jumps at your abrupt appearance, suddenly finding it hard to look you in the eye. “Another camp like ours who used this catastrophe to become the sick fucks they never got to be in their regular lives,” you explain, coming around to stand in front of Jungkook. Your solemn expression fades upon meeting his gaze. “Jungkook, how are you feeling?” You inquire, worried eyes checking him over the same way Seokjin’s just did, except it sparks a sense of bashfulness in him when it’s you.

“Fine,” he mumbles, suddenly wishing Seokjin was back on him again. But the guy chose now of all times to fuck off, settling beside Hoseok to watch him talk to you.

“That’s good to hear,” you say, and then almost absentmindedly reach a hand up to caress his hair. Jungkook freezes, hyper aware of your close proximity. He very pointedly ignores looking at your beautiful face. It’ll go away, he reminds himself, heart panging when you retract your arm. “Is Seokjin evaluating your health?”

He glances over at the man, who gives him a half-assed shrug. With not a lot of confidence in his answer, Jungkook replies, “kinda.”

Before you can question him or Seokjin, Hoseok is jumping in to intervene. “Jungkook has the same freaky power as you,” he reveals, eyes sparkling at the news he reports.

Though you initially jolt in surprise, meeting his gaze with a wondrous glint in your eyes, it eventually fades away. Replacing it is a look of skepticism. “Really?” Your arms fold over your chest as you trace over his features. Jungkook has never felt more shy in his entire life, having a woman like you drink him in with absolutely no shame. “And what power is that?”

If it’s a test, Jungkook fails it. “The, um. Thing.”

Seokjin snorts, burying his face in Hoseok’s shoulder at his weak response. His cheeks flush, the rosy hue slowly filling his face until the tips of his ears are warm, your unimpressed expression staring back at him.

He rushes to redeem himself. “The feeling,” he adds. “Around your neck. Like there’s someone else in the room but you don’t know where.”

Slowly you nod, arms falling back to your sides. You don’t say anything else about this power (as Hoseok calls it), instead turning to face Seokjin. “Your thoughts?”

Seokjin claps his hands together, hopping off the cot to round Jungkook again. “Great body, experience in sports, so I’m assuming lots of stamina. Doesn’t look like he knows his way around a gun, but that can be taught.”

The ending of his evaluation leaves Jungkook confused. “Why would I need to know how to use a gun?” Seokjin glances at you pointedly.

“Actually,” you admit, “I came here with a proposal for you, Jungkook.” Jungkook stills. The only proposals he’s ever heard of usually end in big, classy ceremonies on the beach. He’s just met you a few hours ago. “I would like it if you joined us here in Oleander.”

Jungkook falters, glancing warily between you and the other men in the tent. “Why?” He says, sounding like a child.

You don’t mind. “Well, truthfully, I think it would be good on your end,” you say, “to have the extra protection. Taehyung tells me you’ve been on your own for a while now. We wouldn’t mind taking you in.”

“What’s in it for you?” He interrogates next.

Jungkook thought you were really cool. You had saved him from a group of crazies who wanted to kill him, showed him your secret hideout, and on top of that, you shared something in common with him (apperently). Sure, you had helped him, but Jungkook knows better than to not expect anything in return.

His straightforwardness brings a smile to your face. “Well, if what Seokjin says is true, I think you could become a valuable member of Oleander. I think your support and protection would be a huge help to us here.”

You’re looking at him with these big, sparkly eyes, like the mere idea of Jungkook joining this group of strays is all you’ve ever wanted. Admittedly he sees the logic in your words.

Jungkook thinks about leaving here alone, about returning to that nameless town in the middle of nowhere. There were only so many bags of beef jerky he could eat through, so many rabbits he could strangle before it wasn’t enough. What would he do in the winter? It didn’t snow often in this part of the world, but with the animals in hiding, what would he eat? Would he have to keep traveling from town to town, risk encountering those Magnolians from before?

They really did a number on his faith in humanity. How could people just resort to violence so easily, even after having the knowledge that there were far more harmful things out there than a loaded gun? Jungkook’s been thinking about it since it happened, hours after the event, and he still hasn’t reached a plausible conclusion. Were they deranged? Or simply losers, as you’d so eloquently implied, who were taking advantage of such calamity to live out these frankly disturbing lifestyles. Jungkook didn’t understand, and the longer he ponders it, he realizes maybe he never will.

Some things are just better left unknown, he supposes. But that didn’t mean one had to face them alone. He returns his attention to you and your expectant eyes.

As for you, he still had a lot of questions— who you were, why you did this, what this shared power of theirs was. He figures he can ask you them later. For now, he sticks his hand out for you to take.

“I’m in.”

⇢ part two

#jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fic #goldenclosetnet #ksmutclub #networkbangtan #thekpopnetwork #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #bts fic #mine #!!!!!!

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RWBY Volume 7 Review

Two weeks out from Volume 8 and I finally cared enough to write this. Go team I guess.

Part of it came down to my feelings on Volume 7. It’s a complicated season that’s made me realize a lot of my overall feelings on RWBY as a series, particularly a lot of the less flattering feelings. Volume 7 is just... frustrating in general, as for all the good that it does have, and it does have a lot of great elements to it, it’s let down by a frustrating script and writing choices that feel distinctly amateurish, especially as the series moves on and gets better and better looking each year. There’s elements and kernals here of great character writing, season-wide arcs that land in a really good way and get me emotionally invested in the characters. But on the other... Ren only has two hundred words the entire season and you can tell!

Volume 7 is a season of dizzying highs, some of the best moments of the entire franchise... and some of the series lows. It’s a season where there’s no production reason for its shortcomings... it just comes down to an awkward script that focuses on the wrong elements far too often. Let’s talk about that. In a very long and drawn out manner.

Thanks to @jamesbranwen, @h-e-m-o-goblin and @retro-riffraff for help with GIFs and consultation on this review.

1) The Good Stuff!

A) Atlas is very pretty!

I cannot stress enough how on a set level, Volume 7 is leaps and bounds above the other seasons in sheer environmental detail and setting dressing. Mantle has a great atmosphere with its New York influences, the smog covered backgrounds and oppressive streets and alleys. Ironwood’s office which is deliberately designed to evoke astronomy themes to represent James’ love for the stars. The cold oppressive atmosphere of the Schnee Manor and how Jacques has begun warping it to glorify him with only lip service paid to Nicholas in public. Penguins!

There’s a lot of great set design work that went into this season and the crew deserve props for it. Genuinely.

B) Ironwood’s arc is the best character arc in the entire franchise

Yeah just wearing my heart on my sleeve there, I fucking love Ironwood and his character arc here in Volume 7 is the best written arc of the show. I simp for the tin man who just wants to do the right thing. This one season of content is better than a lot of the series-wide material being honest. I went back to James’s big volumes in the last month to rewatch the show and it’s interesting to see the early seeds in retrospect for where his arc goes. His need to protect everyone he can and the brutish measures he considers necessary for such an act, his conflicting loyalties towards Ozpin that manifest in both frustration at Oz’s seeming apathy to the growing conflict, but also desperate desire for validation from Ozpin that what’s he doing is the right call. After the Mistral seasons set up James as going off the deep end following Volume 3, having him open the season with an earnest smile, an immediate apology for the team’s arrest and trusting them with his plans for Amity and Salem is a jarring but pleasant surprise. He’s not been slacking off, he’s been trying to keep the world together in the way he thinks is best. He lets his guard down around the heroes and we see the good man underneath, which makes the moments where he raises his walls hurt all the more. While Em and Merc are still probably my favorite characters period, James is absolutely my favorite character in Volume 7 and Top 5 favorite characters series-wide. I’m very eager to see where he goes from here. He also rocks the beard and fixed his T-Rex arms so James came out of the washing machine that is Volume 7′s costume design. He truly is the Best Boi, and I cannot give Jason Rose enough credit for his performance this year. He hit every note of Ironwood’s character perfectly and I wish the fandom would give him more credit for giving James as much life as he does.

Oh, and as the obligatory comment on mlm rep that I am known for getting obsessively weird anon hate over: IronQrow hug nearly had me crying on a convention floor from how goddamn soft it was. Remember conventions? Ah good times.

This just... hits me... ya know? Seeing him lower his guard so much to come in for a hug just shows how isolated he’s let himself become to let himself have this moment of contact... Godamnit James. Also this is the second time after Martial Arcs that two guys hug and I really liked their ship for the following hiatus.

C) Soft Qrow hours are nice

Qrow’s a good guy, he went through a lot of bad stuff in Volume 6 but now he’s on the other side and purged his voice of the demon within. I think Volume 7 was a very good year for Qrow overall. It was great to see him interacting with more characters his age and lowering his own guard. His moments of letting the facade drop around James and Clover especially are great expansion for his character. Jason Liebritch hit the ground running as Qrow and gave him a far more dynamic range than I think Vic could. While I wish Qrow going off alcohol had been given more of a focus as it’s kind of done off-handedly that he’s gone cold turkey and otherwise doesn’t get brought up barring his revulsion at the wine in the Schnee Manor, he overall had a great year. And trust me I’ll get to the fights later, I have a lot more I can say about the bird boi there.

D) I liked the Ace Ops!

I was ambivilent towards the Ace Ops on first watching. They’re kinda underdeveloped in the context of the season at large and most people immediately pegged them as a miniboss squad/fodder for Salem to kill. But in rewatch they do still get to shine, if not as brightly. They’re very enjoyable. Clover especially is just really fun in retrospect, I love cocky fighters in general, and he was infectiously enjoyable (I’ve already covered the FG stuff in the past, not doing it again). Marrow came a close second because... well it’s Marrow, he is The Best Boi. Harriet got points for being a punchgirl which is always cool, I liked how her Semblance was shown and being cocky while being able to back it up is always a win. Elm and Vine are tied for dead last, I like the body diversity Elm introduces with her muscles and Vine... existed... but overall I think with the time they had, they did get to establish themselves well. I wish I could say that about their relationship with Team RWBYORNJ but this is the Nice Section so we’ll leave it there for now.

This is one of the best shots of the entire season. I adore it. God I like the Teryx design.

E) God the villains rocked this year!

I am a villain whore. I own that. I will embrace that monkier. But when they’re as cool as this, I feel validated in this Chilli’s tonight. Watts and Tyrian really make the season shine and don’t have a dud scene all season. They have great chemistry together, shining bright in even the weakest or most mediocre episodes. Watts went from “Oh yeah you exist” tier to “Oh yeah you rule” tier. His vendetta against Ironwood feels so real and pre-established, even though this season is the first time it’s ever come up. Watts just ozzes style in everything he does. The animators bring him to life and make every step, every flick of his twist and even just how he moves his eyes all bleed contempt. He’s such a rat and I love him! Chris Sabat finally gets to stretch his wings after a few years playing Watts as just Evil Scientist Guy, and he makes the most of it.

And Tyrian remains an absolute treat. He didn’t get much in V6 but here he takes center stage with Watts and also gets so much impact because of it. All the little twitches, and tilting of his heads, and dramatic gestures, he’s still just so goddamn cool to watch and we even get a little backstory of him. I know he’s irredeemable. But I just want to watch Tyrian kill people and scream. Like hot damn his line “THE GRIMM SHOULD HAVE DESTROYED OUR ENEMIES, NOT MADE THEM FRIENDS!” is so fucking raw. He’s having fun destablizing a nation with his boyfriend!

“You want more chaos than a Grimm invasion?” “If anyone on Remannt can do it, wouldn’t it be you?” There is no heterosexual explanation for how these two look at each other and yes this is me outing myself as a Nuts and Volts fan.

Watts and Tyrian really do become the absolute highlights of the season alongside James. They have a great dynamic and even during their more slower moments there’s so much care and thought put into their every mannerism. Animators, seriously, great job, I love what you did. And their fights... we’ll get there. But they’re so goddamn good.

Look they even run the same! They’re soulmates!

Honorary mention to Salem by the way. She’s only in two scenes but her presence is felt throughout Ironwood’s arc and his growing fear of her and she damn well delivers when she shows up. That shot of her arriving in person is a killer shot to end on as well.

Oh and I guess Cinder and Neo exist don’t they? Eh, we’ll come back to them.

F) Oscar got a character arc!

Finally! He did it! He got an arc that began, continued and ended all onscreen! It only took four tries!

But yeah Oscar had a really good set of scenes in Volume 7. I like him being the first to confront Ruby on the Ironwood lie, bringing up the hypocrisy after their condemning of Ozpin just last season. I like him having a more forward role (outside of not getting to be part of the celebration in episode 4 what the hell guys), and that he’s the big link between RWBY and Ironwood was a great call. Having Ozpin shelved for one more season so Oscar can take center-stage was an inspired choice. I love his dynamic with Ironwood, and how James closing himself off emotionally gets reflected in how he begins slipping in how he refers to Oscar, starting off as treating him and Oz as separate, ending with him gunning Oscar down as he doesn’t care anymore to differentiate the two.

My big issues with Oscar’s arc are that I’m first of all annoyed at the lack of followup on the Oscar stuff from V6, I’m still waiting for Qrow to apologize for punching Oscar guys! I also really wish Neo’s first attack wasn’t offscreen. CRWBY’s cliffhanger fetish meant I got to break out the Offscreen Pine jokes again. And of course, the Neo hallway punch was a bit bullshit.

G) (Most of) The fights are amazing

There’s no punchline. These fights are great, two of them are in my Top 10 Series Wide fights list and at least the duds aren’t Volume 5 bad.

If you’d told me before Volume 7 that Watts would get an extended firefight with James, I’d have felt that a bit cheap as Watts to me doesn’t feel like a fighter, more a planner who hides behind armies of mechanical soldiers. But damn if they didn’t sell me on Watts “You’ve yeed your last haw” Watts whipping out a Glock just to spite James.

This is another one of my favorite shots in the entire series.

Ironwood vs Watts is potentially my favorite fight in the entire series, and if it’s not, it’s easy Top 3 alongside Yang vs Mercury and Pyrrha vs CRDL/Mercury. It makes great use of Amity in the abandoned gravity biome meant for SSSN vs JNPR, with Ironwood and Watts deftly moving around in a manner that very easily could have been difficult to track with the constantly shifting gravity, but the crew do their best to keep it coherent as to who’s where. The credits showed their dedication also stretched into visual continuity, as James and Arthur’s route throughout the Arena was carefully considered so they’d loop around organically.

This is what I mean when I say the crew went above and beyond to keep things clean.

Ironwood vs Watts could have easily failed to impress, given its lack of choreography on the level the series usually does, but the team’s efforts went instead into showing a situation that lets Watts get a dragged out battle: James wins whenever he closes the distance here, so Arthur’s constantly on the run and being forced to tamper with the arena. Great camerawork, a GOD TIER song from Caleb Hyles that I’m still listening to today, and two characters with a fantastic history coming to blows makes for easily the best fight of the season and a series-wide highlight. Watching it develop from storyboards, to mocap, to animations and the full version is a delight to see. This is what CRWBY can do when everything comes togehter. The orchestra’s all tuned. It’s a goddamn symphony.

THIS is my favorite shot of the season.

Tyrian also gets to shine with his two battles this year. His alley fight with Qrow, Robyn and Clover is short but sweet, the corvid and the scorpion especially trading brutal blows in the cramped space. Qrow goes full Devil May Cry with his style-switching here, Harbinger being swapped between sword, tonfa and gun forms freely alongside Qrow applying The Power of Punching. His 1v1v1 with Clover and Qrow though is the true highlight of the season in terms of choreography. It’s lighting-fast, and has some impeccable shot work. Qrow gets to use his scythe with deliberate nods to the Red Trailer, Clover gets to shut up everyone who doubted his weapon, and Tyrian is just along for the ride and he makes the most of it. It’s frentic, it’s heart-pounding, it’s everything a fight should be.

Honorary mentions as well go to Ace Ops vs the Geist, which is just really fun and has a great backing music choice, the opening battle with Sabre having Ruby’s obligatory ten seconds of fighting that come at the start of every new era of the series, and the Ace Ops vs RWBY fight which has some good choreo in places.

H) Winter and Penny have good chemistry

I don’t have a ton to add here, I just like their dynamic and how they advance each other’s arcs. It’s nice writing. I also like Winter apologizing to Penny when she’s angry at Jacques and takes it out on Penny by accident with the “You wouldn’t understand” line.

Penny as a Maiden is a nice idea, I think her new design is cute. Penny says trans rights.

Those are a lot of my favorite things about Volume 7. It’s a killer season when it’s firing on all cylinders but unfortunately... it often misfires in frustrating ways, many of which are unfortunately due to core emblematic problems with the series that won’t go away.

2) The Bad Stuff

A) The costumes

It’s been a over year. It’s low hanging fruit. I don’t care. Most of them are still not good and they’re ludicrously over-designed.

Blake’s in a fetish suit and I wonder how she even goes to the bathroom. Weiss just looks like an abino Sabre alt, Yang is what a Halloween costume site would describe as “Sexy UPS Driver,” (why does she have a thigh window) Ruby... looks fine, it’s one of her better costumes. Jaune’s hair is silly, Ren’s model has lost some muscle definition and he looks like an e-boy, Nora’s costume really doesn’t fit the Atlas visual design and looks like a rejected Kingdom Hearts costume. Cinder’s is too black and I actually can’t track her in darker scenes because of it (which is kinda bad during... a fight scene... where I need to know where she is...), Neo looks like a Ren Fair cosplayer doing a bit for her OnlyFans, Winter’s is anatomically weird with super skinny arms and legs, and Blake’s hair is a fucking hate crime.

Qrow’s is one I liked at first but in retrospect it does feel like a downgrade. To quote @h-e-m-o-goblin from a Discord chat:

in a show like rwby, where color is such a vital defining aspect of every character, a cohesive colorscheme goes a long way. qrow's original outfit works great in this regard. neutral tones. greys, whites, and blacks, with red accents that pop against the otherwise sparse color. it's good! it's distinctive! it doesn't feel cluttered and it doesn't look like a clown vomited on him! the subdued colors really lend themselves to the grey, cynical energy qrow seems to carry with him. a literal lack of color in his life. the outfit itself feels like something he would wear; a combination of "clearly trying to look cool" and "a little disheveled and laid back." the design breathes, it isn't cluttered. let's contrast this with his vol 7 outfit. a lot of outfits in vol 7 suffer from this problem, but first and foremost it doesn't look like something he would wear. where his old outfit had a casual feel to it, his new look feels like someone dressed him up for a family christmas dinner. it's too... tidy. now of course you could argue this is him "cleaning up his life," but i dont feel like you have to sacrifice his own personal style in order to convey that. if that's really what they were going for, they easily could have just, oh i dont know, given him a cape that isn't tattered???

remember how i said qrow's original outfit really made his colors pop? how less is more when it comes to having a character with a specific color theme? vol 7 butchered that. we suddenly have articles of clothes that are tinted with greenish blue tones, browns, and with gold trim? on TOP of the old colors he already had in his design. it's muddy. it's ugly. the burgundy vest is fine, if they wanted to work more color into his outfit they should have done it that way throughout, shades of grey and different tones of RED. his COLOR. it just feels like they tacked so much on there without a second thought and i really think he deserves better. its just. such a mess.

The ones I did like were Watts’ new coat (I like the puffy hood), Penny’s is fine, the Ace Ops look great, Ironwood’s new outfit is stellar (those last six are great examples of how to do a lot with just primary colors of white and red), Neon’s Jolyne cosplay is cute and Flynt is slick. Otherwise, Volume 7 feels like it’s taken a lot of the wrong lessons from the costume design of the earlier seasons. Less is often more but now it feels like they have a pathological aversion to empty space on the costumes, leading them to feel like... costume vomit for lack of a better word. I didn’t love the Mistral outfits, but their modifications at least were carried by how many of them called back to the Fall of Beacon and emphasized the themes of loss in Volume 4. The new Atlas outfits... don’t have that shared theme. It feels like a hodgepodge of different design influences without trying to find a way to unify them. It’s like putting Baki the Grappler beside My Little Pony, they just fail to mesh.

Also for fuck’s sake already CRWBY just give the girls muscles already.

2) JNR suck and Ren’s arc is glorified character assassination

I don’t love JNR. They’re fine, but the show has arguably not needed them for a while and while I’ve liked them all at different points, it’s never been adoration outside of Ren in Volume 4. I was cool with the idea of them staying in Argus to help cover Mistral after its Huntsmen were wiped out, and Volume 7 has... made me wish they did that.

Jaune is just comic relief, and it kinda blows for later reasons but the big one is that he’s just not very funny. His big role in Volume 7 is basically to crosswalk some kids so we can have a joke scene during the Mantle Battle where Jaune uses his tactical genius to teach people to walk in single file. I feel like at this point Miles is just actively trying to kill Jaune’s fandom out of spite for how badly Jaundice was received. He’s never allowed to be cool or try and redeem himself. His hatedom aren’t going to stop hating Jaune because he gets more comedy guys. They’re going to stop when you write Jaune well. It’s a bummer he got some genuinely great upgrades for his sword and shield and never gets to use them outside of the opening.

Nora exists. She got a surprising amount of focus this season in that she got focus of any kind. I liked her confronting Ironwood over his choking of Mantle because we know she was once the kind of person Ironwood would have been stifling. I like her being the one to realize the loophole in Jinn’s “You can’t” line. I don’t like much else about Nora this year, or at least the Nora the writing team are pushing. She’s not funny like Jaune but Nora just absorbs so much screentime in the first half with her constant shrieking. Sam Ireland has good range but making Nora into Discount Harley Quinn is pushing her out of it. She sounds shrill, making Nora sound like she has no heart outside of the election rally. A shrill voice is one thing. A shrill voice that never lands a single joke? Yeah that character is tainted by association.

And Ren... oh God Ren what happened to you.

The Volume 7 commentary confirmed a suspicion of mine that Ren’s arc was heavily cut down from what was planned. Even watching V7 I could tell his arc was bare-bones at best, and it’s downright character assassination in places. Why is he suddenly so cold to Nora? Why is he now so obsessed with training? Why does he side with Ironwood for all of... one line which is this last between episodes 7 and 11. Ren only has two hundred words of dialoge in Volume 7 and they feel so weird in places. Ren goes from seemingly disliking Nora, to kissing her, to never referencing the kiss, to partaking in the Worst Scene Of The Season, all with no consistency. It’s not even threadbare. Ren’s arc just has no connecting tissue for so much of it! It’s insane how badly Ren was hurt by this, and I shudder to wonder how bad his Volume 8 arc will be because you know that was one of the first plotlines they cut down on when they inevitably overreached again.

I don’t know how they made Renora kissing feel unearned? But by God they found a way with how much of a trainwreck Ren’s writing is in regards to tainting this.

If Ironwood is an example of RWBY doing character writing well, Ren is the mirror image of how badly they can do. JNR really suffered from Volume 7 (also fun fact, Ren has about 200 words of dialogue? Ironwood has 4400). Maybe not to the level of irredeemable dislike? But very close to being on the same tier as Cinder of “Just go away already.” I’m not looking forward to their content in Volume 8.

3) RWBY themselves are poorly handled in Volume 7

It’s unfortunate that the actual title characters of the series are also some of this season’s weaker links. RWBY feel... superfluous to this season in a way they’ve never felt before. It’s baffling how much of the season doesn’t change if you just don’t include them, and apparently Volume 7′s first draft? Was even worse.

The commentary says that many of the RWBY moments were added later in production. Stuff like Ruby and Renora at the rally, Blake and Yang’s talk with Robyn and Ruby and Qrow’s chat were all either added in near the end of the writing or were “low priority” enough that they could have been cut which is... veyr alarming that’s stuff even the main protags have to worry about!

Ruby feels half-baked. I was looking forward to her in V7 after how V6 gave her a more dynamic personality and the focus she got in Brunswick, and having Penny’s return had me interested in seeing Ruby grapple with her emotions about it. She watched Penny die, how would it influence her to see Penny back and OK? Good question, we never get to see it. Ruby’s just OK with Penny’s return, the one time they touch on it Penny immediately glosses over it. Ruby just goes back to her old happy go lucky persona where any and all negative emotions are immediately forced down instead of confronting them and growing from them. I’m getting a little tired of Ruby bottling her grief and being teased about finally getting her snapping like a Twix Bar. We finally got her crying and it lasted all of ten seconds. And it doesn’t help that Ruby’s still getting shafted for fights. Her scythe choreography has no excuse being as flacid as it is now after Qrow vs Clover showed they can do scythe fighting! Why is Ruby being upstaged by (let’s be real) a supporting character! Why is she being limited to ten seconds of good combat then nothing for the rest of the season outside of flimsily swinging it or shooting. It’s disappointing, especially after how good V6 Ruby was.

I swear, Gravity’s not just my favorite episode of the season just because Ruby finally cries in it.

Weiss was kinda just done dirty though. At least Ruby has a good outfit. Weiss confronting her father has been a long standing plot thread for the series, it’s been Weiss’s Big Thing since the White Trailer. And when Jacques finally appears, he’s very... bland. He’s just evil corporate dude who exists less as an obstacle for Weiss and more just a roadblock for the plot through the election. Weiss finally gets a chance to take her father down and work to redeem her family name... but instead of earning said victory and it being treated with the same gravitas and emotional weight as Blake defeating Adam... Weiss has her victory handed to her. And it’s played for comedy by her abusrdly attractive mother.

Listen, I like I Willow Schnee. I think she’s a fascinating character and I like the idea of a person who is aware of the harm they’ve done by accident but is too broken to fix the issues she accidentally left. I love her calling Weiss out on her treatment of Whitley. But she is absolutely a Deus Ex Machina that exists to get Jacques out of the plot as fast as possible. You mean to tell me Hackerman Watts never once made sure Jacques had hidden cameras? Or that none of the staff found Willow’s cameras and reported them under the assumption they were White Fang spies? It’s so... convenient. It’s handing Weiss her victory on an unearned platter. Which sucks. I was really looking forward to Weiss beating Jacques. Instead she just gets given the plot device while JNR engage in the Worst Scene of The Season in that Whitley food stunt.

Me whenever I’m asked to rewatch Cordially Invited

Blake and Yang have much the same problems, in they never separate. I know they’re going to be together. I know CRWBY are making it canon (get it over with already). I still would like Yang and Blake to have individual character scenes. I’d like Blake and Marrow to talk about being a Faunus Huntsman in Atlas (another thing that got cut thanks to Robyn Hill). I want Yang and Ironwood to discuss their PTSD and have Yang thank Ironwood for his trust in her that he commissioned the arm despite Yang attacking Mercury. I want Blake to be well animated in fight scenes so she’s doing more than just jobbing so Yang looks better. I want Yang to stop hogging all the good Team RWBY choeography. I want them to interact with other characters and continue to grow instead of feeling like two halves of one character. And no, making a meta joke of how Blake and Yang don’t talk to other people doesn’t make it OK. It just means you’re self aware about your own faults.

(Also give Yang better merch or quit the favoritism. If you’re gonna milk her, put effort into it beyond crapply overpriced flannel. RT’s merch store is actively making me hate Yang.)

Team RWBY’s biggest contribution to the season is the Ironwood Lie which is... a can of worms. They certainly had a point in withholding some of the bigger truths from James but I feel by Pomp and Cirumstance he’d proven himself truthwrothy enough to warrant being told the truth about Salem. But then when he’s finally told the truth, it’s offscreen’d and the consequence isn’t “Why didn’t you tell me earlier” but “Fucking Ozpin man.” Gravity has it bite them in the ass, but it’s more an accessory to Yang and Blake telling Robyn about the Amity tower. I wish more had been done with the team disagreeing on whether the lie was a good choice or not, maybe have Yang be hardline against it due to her own “No more lies and half truths” policy instead of... having Yang tell more lies and half truths (Commentary confirms she never told Ruby and Weiss about the Robyn stuff BTW). But that’s a wider problem where RWBY aren’t allowed to disagree beyond surface level “I don’t know if this is the right call” dialogue. There’s never a threat of one of them cracking and just spilling the beans to James, everyone just blindly trusts Ruby and Qrow tells the audience “No this is different from when Ozpin lied. Trust us.”

This is the most RWBY get for content in the season finale: Ruby just nuking Cinder with no difficulty after having trouble with the eyes three episodes ago. Kinda lame tbh.

Team RWBY are just disappointing in Volume 7. They’re not given good animation, their story roles are largely insignificant, the impact of their roles on the story is threadbare and... well most of their costumes suck don’t @ me even CRWBY have admitted Blake and Weiss’s haircuts looked bad. It’s a whole barrage of a letdown for the main girls. And it’s really sad that the best scenes of the season... are usually the ones where RWBY are nowhere in sight.

Why the hell didn’t Yang get to keep the sunglasses come on guys. One job.

4) Robyn, the election plot, and the Happy Huntresses

Oh God, Robyn Hill is... not great. I could and likely will write a full meta on her character and how they bungled it but I’ll just be blunt here: I don’t like her design, the colors don’t mesh well, he head’s too small, Christina Vee is sleeping through the role and her weapon’s lame. Introducing her in a scene where she threatens to attack our heroes, and her agents are actively sneaking up on them to do it, is not a great first impression for a hometown hero. And that the commentary thinks she’s meant to be the hero in that scene is... staggering.

RWBY’s greatest threat yet is a wine mom Karen and her Home Owners Association army.

The election plot is less a misfire and more the engine just exploding. There’s so little good content between when it’s introduced and concluded, with it usually being individual scenes that are more good in spite of their connection to the plot (such as Tyrian’s massacre). It drags in pacing, going on for nearly half the season between episodes 5 and 10, and it purely exists as a roadblock to keep RWBY spinning their wheels while Watts and Tyrian keep going with the main plot. I don’t know why CRWBY went for this plot. They could have easily had something else fill the gap that also allowed for a lot of the character beats (such as Marrow and Blake’s talk and Ren’s entire arc) to shine, or at least condensed it to the important elements instead of letting it become bloated. It ends in such an unsatisfying way where Willow just shows up and goes “We have four episode left, here’s the plot device to beat Jacques, get back ot the main plot.” If they wanted to do the election plot, the best route would have been to give Volume 7 more episodes or stretch out its events to two seasons, but neither is realistically possible while RWBY lives off the teat of AT&T.

Jacques and Robyn are just boring. Evil corporate man and a lame adaptation of Robyn Hood who only has fans because of thirst who also like downplaying Robyn making a racist remark at Marrow (to say nothing of that weird subsection of Robyn fans who make her a Fox Faunus who cut her tail off to join Atlas Academy which is... certainly a creative choice especially when Marrow and Neon are punching holes in that angsty BS backstory). They can’t carry this plot and the artifical attempts to make it seem more exciting with the two cliffhaners ending on Mantle under riot or Grimm attack are laughably cut short by the next episode in each case opening the morning after. On binge watch it becomes weirdly funny more than anything and that’s not a good reaction. The dual cliffhangers being cheaply resolved is a short but succint example of V7′s pacing issues, and they almost always loop around to the election plot being too bloated, slow and just boring.

Also the Happy Huntresses are just... lame. I like their Semblances but that’s it. Fiona’s OK because she gets some screentime but May’s just “the surly one” and Joanna doesn’t even get her Semblance or much dialogue (oh wow she really is just a female Sage Ayana isn’t she). Robyn should not have been leading the HH and running for Council. That’s really stupid. And kind of wrong. Having May or Fiona be running instead while Robyn leads the team in relief efforts would have been better and could have split the focus more effeciently instead of leaving May and especially Joanna feelng like roster padding. There’s also some delicious irony in the show trying to frame the HH as the resistance fighting for the people and representing individuality, only for them all to have the same boring outfit and weapons (I think even the exact same model just with different sizes) while the Ace Ops are meant to be the military drones who are “Just following orders,” only for them to be more racially diverse, more diverse body-type-wise, and have more unique weapons. It’s another one of those odd creative dissconnects between what the writers wanted and what the artists/animation teams chose to do.

The election plot is overall toxin for Volume 7, and Robyn in my opinion, has one of the worst introductory scenes of any character in the franchise (and CRWBY have tacitly admitted that V7 had a character they were surprised at how controversial they were, which has to be Robyn). In a year where they were already juggling so much content and characters, adding in this bloated subplot was something I don’t think anyone wanted, especially now that we know we lost so much content on the sacrificial altar for this. It’s a black mark on the season and I don’t really care for the return of the Happy Huntresses or Robyn in Volume 8. None of them are interesting enough to care for outside of meta reasons like “cute.”

Also fuck you Fiona, can’t believe you got a shirt before Ironwood.

5) Cinder and Neo sure exist

To be fair, this is one of Cinder’s best years, easily her best since Volume 3 but that’s more because Cinder in the Mistral era was crap. (And if I wanna be cruel, because Cinder wasn’t in two thirds of the season)Her fans were finally vindicated after years of telling anyone who dunked on Cinder that “nooooo she has a super covert backstory that’s gonna be amazing when it’s revealed! You’ll see!” And well they finally got it. All of one line during a fight about how Cinder “refuses to starve.”

It’s still something so I guess we have to take it. Seriously... how do we still not have Cinder’s backstory.

There’s just not a ton to say about Cinder and Neo in V7 barring I that don’t think they needed to be here. They feel very superfluous and just here to have a big boss fight in Cinder’s case alongside continuing her streak of ending the odd numbered seasons fighting a female side character... which for me became an exercise in tyring to find during Cinder during the damn fight.

And this is why when most people saw Cinder’s V6 outfit they went “It’s gonna be hard to see her in darker environments,” then were vindicated when it became legit difficult to see Cinder in this scene. God if they at least just made the inside of the cape red it’d be easier.

Neo is Neo, which means she makes funny faces and mocks Cinder (I like that), but she doesn’t get a super good fight which uh... we’ll get to. I’m interested to see her finally exploding at Cinder and going for a backstab, but really Neo in V7 was kinda hit hard by the double whammy of the Oscar Hallway Punch and how humiliating ORNJ vs Neo was for ORNJ. Cinder’s definitely had far worse years and after how aimless she was in Mistral this feels like a sep in the right direction, but at this point CRWBY just need to shut up and tell us her deal. It’s been seven years guys. Come on. At least make her interesting if she’s gonna say around. They’ve had worse years, but unfortunately Cinder and Neo’s role in the finale leads into...

6) Some of the fights weren’t good

I wanna be clear, I like most of Volume 7′s fights. It’s just a bummer the worst ones are back and back and make up a chunk of the finale. ORNJ vs Neo is just crap. It’s the worst fight since the Battle of Haven. There’s nothing else I can say, it’s poorly animated, paced, choreographed and written. JNR especially are made to look like complete jokes after they spent all season training, to the point where it looks like V2 Yang could solo V7 JNR after this. Oscar I expect this from because he’s not allowed to have fun stuff onscreen after accidentally stealing the Haven budget for his fight with Hazel, but JNR were just done dirty. There were ways to make the fight work in a way where Neo still won but JNR looked good. They went for the worst possible outcome that just leaves Neo looking like she got fan-wanked and JNR looking like they’re just not allowed to be cool due to Miles’ spite at the Jaune-Self Insert stuff (and that’s not even getting into JNR being forced to run from lame rent a cops who can’t even handle a single Grimm). Cinder vs Winter and Penny isn’t much better, with her dark outfit making it very hard to track the fight because she blends into the background too well. It’s not a great showing for Winter or Penny given their earlier feats but, hey, some random female character had to fight Cinder in this odd numbered volume, carrying on Glynda, Pyrrha and Raven’s tradition. It’s at least better than ORNJ vs Neo, but that’s really not saying anything. At least Cinder’s VA work isn’t too bad this time but this fight commits the cardinal sin of a finale fight: It’s just not super interesting because we know Cinder can’t kill both Winter and Penny and she’s not becoming a Maiden, while Winter’s been too blatantly set up so it has to be Penny.

RWBY vs the Ace Ops also gets a dishonorable mention due to the choreography on display here... and the lack of it for Weiss, Blake and Ruby. Ruby never once swings Crescent Rose the entire fight and is just reduced to getting the tar kicked out of her by Harriet. Weiss barely gets to use her sword and largely just sticks to her summoning and glyphs which makes for a very visually uninteresting fighting style at the best of times. Blake just swings around and gets caught by the bad guys so Yang is motivated to fight stronger. She never dual wields (again) and her best moves are just setting up Yang to do all the hard work while Yang gets to personally KO two of the Ace Ops. There’s a lot that can be said about whether or nor RWBY earn the win, but while the animation team try to sell the Ace Ops landing heavy hits, having only Blake’s Aura even flicker really undercuts the idea from the commentary that this wasn’t meant to be a stomp for RWBY and they had to work together and be in synch to win.

Which is why Yang solos two of the Ace Ops whle Blake plays support, Weiss beats Marrow alone and then kill steals Harriet from Ruby, all while the song playing is an extended diss track from RWBY to the Ace Ops about how badass they are now, and the commentary itself says the Ace Ops are hard carried by Clover’s Semblance (because you gotta love basically saying four POC were only competent because a white guy led them, and then have them lose because said white guy wasn’t around to carry them!). Great job guys, you really sold it.

And talking of Clover, I feel it worth mentioning Qrow vs Clover vs Tyrian. It’s animation wise near perfect, but unfortunately I do feel it would be remiss to not mention that I feel the writing really has to bend over backwards to justify this fight. A lot of it is stuff I would say in that hypothetical Robyn essay, but I feel Robyn, Qrow and Clover all have to become massive idiots for this specific sequence of events to occur, and for Clover especially every retroactive attempt to explain why he prioritized Qrow over Tyrian just sounds more and more desperate. Between the references to MCU Captain America (a person whose entire arc is about learning when it’s OK to defy bad orders) or the attempt in the commentary to say “Oh Clover thought it would be easier to take out Tyrian alone instead of Qrow,” none of them land and just further drive home how much the plot had to stretch and reach to get that moment of Tyrian killing Clover. I like the fight. But I hate the road the show took to get there.

Some of the misc fights are also weak like ORNJ vs FNKI and elements of the Mantle Grimm battle, but those are the big offenders. Otherwise, again, the fights are largely good.

7) The soundtrack wasn’t... great

I mean the vocal songs only, don’t crucify me. Trust Love is just lamer Let’s Just Live/Triumph, Celebrate and Let’s Get Real are so boring I thought they were the same song until the OST dropped, Brand New Day is boringly peppy and Jeff’s vocals are dreadful. I completely forgot Touch the Sky until I was checking the tracklist to make sure I didn’t forget any songs. War has good singers but tries to sell the RWBY-Ace Ops bond as way deeper than it was. The lack of a villain song did really sting though, those are always the highlights.

There are good songs. I really like Fear, I feel it encapsulates the themes of the volume well and serves as a good condemnation of Ironwod’s mentality. Until The End is finally the Ruby song I’ve waited for since Red Like Roses 2 and I enjoy that she got a melancholic song, and Hero is easily, hands down, best track of the record and probably best RWBY track, full stop. Caleb killed it, I loved the second verse, opening opera was strong, guitar riffs were a plenty. Stellar work all around for that one.

The OST has great work from Jeff and Alex as usual, but the Jeff and Casey songs are really starting to lose their appeal. Going for a peppy feel this year didn’t help cover the cracks that are beginning to show with RWBY’s vocal songs (especially Jeff’s vocal range), and while a few standouts remain such as Fear and Hero, they are the slim minority in an otherwise very boring vocal tracklist that barely scrapes above Volume 5 for weakest set yet.

8) It wasn’t as funny as it thought it was

Comedy is subjective but man a lot of these jokes didn’t land. RWBY really needs to realize that does work in traditional 2D does not translate into 3D and just comes off as making official reaction GIFs for your Twitter account. Making characters SUDDENY SCREAM LOUDLY is not good banter. Please stop making Nora into Harley Quinn. Marrow was probably the most consistently funny character but that was it. Also I dunno why CRWBY thought Forrest was funny or what the deal was with that FRWBY crap.

“Honorary” mention to the JNR food scene in Cordially Invited which is genuinely one of the worst scenes in the entire show and I hope whoever animated it has their save files deleted for a game where they were about to beat the final boss. Nothing sums up JNR’s pointlessness in the series more perfectly than this.

C) Conclusion

See what I mean about Volume 7 being frustrating?

It’s weird that I overal think of Volume 7 as a mid-tier volume. There’s so much here I genuinely adore, with some of the best stuff to do with the show coming out of this season (barring lame, overpriced merch that feels like clothing gacha), but simultaneously the whole thing is let down by outside circumstances that unfortunately are ones the show can’t ever really recover from. Put bluntly, Volume 7 is the most technically proficient season of the show with the best lighting, backdrops, (some of the) character models, etc. CRWBY definitely didn’t slack off this year, but the problem isn't with them. It’s with the writing. A wider reaching problem is just that Miles and Kerry can’t really improve to the level that the series now requires. Eddy and Kiersei’s first season could have gone far worse, but it definitely was notable whenever they took over. Volume 7’s core problems are fourfold: The comedy is terrible and none of the jokes really land, the season focuses on the wrong plots and gives them too much effort, too many episodes are spent building up to new plots only for them to be weakly resolved (especially the Mantle Riot/Grimm attacks that are shoved off-screen), and the character bloat strikes hard here and leaves a lot of the cast feeling like dead weight. CRWBY don’t need more writers. They need more editors willing to tell the team what has to go instead of them hemming and hawing themselves on if they if they can include a plotline. The election never should have gotten past its first draft, there was too much already in this season before adding that.

When this is an unironic shot in your series... you’ve got character bloat issues.

At this point, I think JNR need to go. The show had no idea what to do with them throughout the season, leading to Jaune just being comic relief while Ren and Nora became characters I actively dislike. Renora was the easiest ship in the show to land, and they still managed to blow the engines and ram at least three icebergs just to prove that RWBY can’t romance to save its life. Team RWBY themselves are little better, with Ruby’s feelings about Penny’s return being shelved, Weiss’s victory against Jacques feeling un-earned and undercut by comedy, while Yang and Blake are benched for the volume and become a singular entity with how tied at the hip they are. Maria basically yeeted herself out of the show and I didn’t notice, Pietro is just a death flag, and while the Ace Ops had a good intro, it was undercooked by how they had to play the villain role to give RWBY something to do in the final hours. Cinder and Neo didn’t need to be here. Robyn had one of the worst introductions for a character I’ve ever seen, I never enjoyed her moments and it genuinely feels like she only has a fandom because RWBY’s community are in fact that desperate.

On the brighter side, Ironwood’s arc is fucking perfect and Jason Rose deserves all the love. Great fight, great song, great design, love the beard, it was a perfect downfall for Volume 7’s true protagonist. Qrow had a fun volume and I loved his dynamic with Clover (I don’t see the ship stuff but that’s more because I’m an IronQrow main so my blinders were on). Clover was also way cooler than I remembered. His fights stood out but the guy’s just really cool at the end of the day, with Chris doing great work as a VA. Oscar even managed to do stuff this year which was a shock and a half, but a welcome shock and a half. I didn’t mention it, but the Ozpin fear monologue is one of my favorite scenes in the entire show and it and the Ironwood/Oscar confrontation in the vault save the finale. And of course, Watts and Tyrian were the MVPs. I don’t have a bad word about either of them, they fucking nailed their roles and I can’t wait to see them again.

And that’s kind of what I mean when I say Volume 7 flummoxes me. It’s frustrating at times with how it handles seemingly easy tasks and drops the ball. Renora went from “everyone liked that” to wondering how badly Ren’s stuff got butchered for him to be the way he is. RWBY themselves could be almost entirely cut and so little would change, and the fact that the finale basically hinges its entire emotional stakes on Winter, Penny and Oscar is a staggering call. And it really feels like the season was compressed beyond necessity because they decided going in that Volume 7 had to end on Salem’s arrival. There’s two volumes worth of material here, and maybe it would have been best to have broken up these events. Volume 7 does too much in too little time, and RWBY especially suffered from it. But when it works… it’s good. Never close to the highs of Volumes 6 or 3, but there’s genuinely good material here. The fights are mostly getting better with far less missteps than previously, the acting (mostly) continues to improve and it’s obvious that RWBY is a very good looking show at this point. Ironwood’s arc is franchise-wide highs, I loved Clover, and Marrow remains the best boi. But it’s frustrating that despite all the tech advances Volume 7 has made, it still makes such threadbare, rookie writing mistakes in cast management, comedy and character arcs. I’m glad Miles and Kerry finally realized that they needed more writers, but it won’t mean anything if the show just continues to circle the drain on the core mistakes it’s been making since 2013. Volume 7 has good in it. But I can see where it could have been great.

Thanks for reading, stan IronQrow and please get Whitley a therapist.

And for the love of God already make an Ironwood vs Watts shirt!

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signs-of-the-moon · 3 years

Text

Moon Rise: Chapter 36

"Good morning, Swiftcloud," Chicorynose greeted her old apprentice as she and Tulippaw stepped out of the bramble tunnel, prey in their jaws. She waited for the pair to make their way over to the fresh-kill pile before continuing. "I'm surprised to see you've been out hunting today."

"Goldensong cleared me for duty yesterday, and Tigerfang invited Tulippaw and I on the dawn patrol," Swiftcloud informed as she dropped her prey at her paws. It felt wonderful to be able to do her warrior duties again. Swiftcloud hadn't been able to wait to get started working today, rousing Tulippaw as soon as the sun had risen.

"There's going to be another strategy meeting in the warrior's den shortly. Will you be joining, or would you rather spend time with your apprentice?" Chicorynose deadpanned as she picked her way through the newly stocked collection of food.

"Of course I will join. Tulippaw, why don't you go play with Pollenpaw?"

"Ok!" Tulippaw trilled, depositing her mole onto the prey pile. She darted off, surprise tackling her sister. The mollies squealed, scurrying off to go play somewhere. Swiftcloud chuckled, following Chicorynose into Whitestar's den. The rest of the senior warriors were already inside waiting.

"There you are," Whitestar meowed, "we were just wrapping up our plans for today."

"Plans?" Swiftcloud echoed.

"Yes. Remember yesterday morning when we discussed going forward with another Forest Patch invasion? Everyone has finally voted. At sunhigh, a patrol will be sent to Treeclan's territory."

Swiftcloud's pelt prickled with anxiety at the plan, just as it had the morning before. Swiftcloud had originally voted in favor of the idea, knowing that it would be just as successful as the last. But something kept nagging her. A terrible sensation, a feeling that something was going to go wrong. But Swiftcloud couldn't place her paw on what and, like before, kept silent about it.

"Who should I gather for the patrol?" Chicorynose asked.

"Slugsnout, Tigerfang, Heatherwing, Ladybugbite, Beetlepatch, Rabbitstorm, Gingerstrike, and all of our spies. The older apprentices may come too, if their mentors think they're ready. Meadowcall and Tornface have also graciously volunteered to come out of retirement to assist."

The elders are coming too? Swiftcloud realized just how serious the situation was.

"I'll alert the warriors immediately then," Chicorynose declared. "Shall I round up any medicine cats?"

"Yes," Whitestar responded. "Invite Snowfrost and Mistypaw along too." Chicorynose dipped her head in understanding. Whitestar gave a swish of her tail as a sign that the meeting was concluded. Swiftcloud followed Chicorynose out of the crack in Tall Stone, the clan's senior warriors padding behind. Though dread hung heavy over Swiftcloud's head, she didn't let it show. All she could do right now was pray to Starclan that this battle would end quickly.

**********

Whitestar led Grassclan's battle patrol single file across the meadow and into the Forest Patch. This time, the clan would be trying a different approach in order to claim more territory. Swiftcloud and the other Spies would hide among the shadows, studying Treeclan's fighting techniques and acting as obstacles for the enemy. Meanwhile, the warriors would do most of the fighting. These tactics could be seen as cheap, but the senior warriors argued that it was no cheaper than Treeclan's overhead ambushes. Swiftcloud had to agree with them there, although for some reason, it still felt wrong to stoop to Treeclan's level. But nobody protested, and so Swiftcloud dared not breathe a word of her worries.

Grassclan's battle patrol came to a halt as they reached the Treeclan scent markers. Whitestar raised her tail, pointing it in a command to move forward. The Fighters marched on, disappearing further into the woods. Chicorynose hung back a few heartbeats with the Spies, watching the others until they were out of sight. Then, she flicked her torn ear as a silent instruction to scramble and hide. Swiftcloud nodded, diving into a particularly dense patch of thickets to hide her white pelt. Without another glance back, she proceeded onward. Swiftcloud creeped along the forest floor, jaws parted slightly to taste the air. She had to ensure that she wasn't directly crawling towards a Treeclan patrol. This mission was important, she couldn't mess up this time.

Every few bear-lengths, the patched she-cat gave pause to observe her surroundings. For a while, the forest was quiet, echoing only with the call of birds. And then, a yowl split through the air. Following the cry came the caterwaul of many battle hungry warriors, and the thrashing of bushes. Forest and dewy smells clashed, and branches and debris went flying. A fight had been engaged. At the assurance that Treeclan's warriors were distracted, Swiftcloud surged forward, getting as close to the action as possible without blowing her cover. Through the ferns, Swiftcloud observed the moves Treeclan used when fighting with Grassclan.

Many cats seemed to favor techniques that required the use of their weight, or jumping. Treeclan cats were ambush predators after all, it made sense that they always tried to have the high ground. Treeclan also seemed to favor the use of their claws rather than teeth, often dealing scratches and front paw blows. Swiftcloud understood this information to be useful, and couldn't wait to report back to Whitestar once all of this was over.

In her observations, Swiftcloud kept an eye on a specific few clanmates during their fights.

The first cat she watched was Heatherwing. The lilac she-cat put her intelligence to good use during this battle. In heartbeats it seemed the molly could calculate the perfect stradgey she's need to face off specific enemies. For the smaller ones, she used her sharp reflexes to keep up with them and to strike. For the bulkier cats, she utilized Grassclan's speed. Heatherwing was an excellent fighter, a cat the clan could be proud of to represent them. Even pregnancy couldn't hold her down.

Then there was Rabbitstorm, who seemed to quickly pick up on Treeclan's strategies, and was trying to counteract them in the same way. In this fight, he was up against Fogbreath, a particularly large gray smoke tom. Rabbitstorm stood up on his hind legs, crashing down upon his enemy. And when the other tom rose and tried to do the same, Rabbitstorm dodged the tom with a quickness.

The cat Swiftcloud's attention focused on most was Shadowfang. Shadowfang's fighting style was a perfect blend of all the teachings he'd gained from his time mentored by Tigerfang. Shadowfang hit hard, and struck fierce. He favored biting to clawing, and kept low so it was easier to dodge. Though he left himself open at times, in spots that Swiftcloud, his partner, would usually guard. Swiftcloud longed to fight by his side, to leap out and strike the warriors who tried to get the jump on him. But she couldn't.

Luckily, she wasn't so helpless; she was still able to stick out a paw and trip up any cat who may be passing by. And she could bite the ankles of any enemy that crossed her hiding place. Though she'd rather be out in the open, Swiftcloud had to admit sneaking around and surprising Treeclan cats was fun. It was a thrill unlike any she'd felt since her very first fight with Shadowfang. Grassclan's plan was working. If we keep this up maybe Grassclan can win!

But then, something went awry. A Grassclan Spy was snatched up from the undergrowth, thrown into the clearing for every cat to see. Swiftcloud recognized that clanmate as Bumblethroat. The tabby tom crouched against the ground, ears laid back against his head. It was hard to tell whether he was scared or ready to attack.

"They have spies watching us!" Yowled Blazestar. In a heartbeat, Swiftcloud figured out that he was the cat who'd caught Bumblethroat prowling in the undergrowth. "Find the others! Flush them into the open!" He commanded, voice booming. Treeclan grew angier upon discovering that they were being watched. Several warriors began to search through the bushes surrounding them, while the others surged forward to brutalize Grassclan's Fighters.

Swiftcloud shrank back in her hiding place, searching for an opening to scramble away. As she stalked along, a small cat slid through the bracken bushes in front of her. Their eyes lit up with excitement as they noticed Swiftcloud crouched to the right of them.

"I found one!" Declared the apprentice, sounding far too overjoyed. Swiftcloud hissed at them, just as she was hoisted from the undergrowth by the scruff. A powerful warrior picked her up and threw her across the battlegrounds. They snarled at her as she stood to shake out her leaf covered pelt. Swiftcloud crouched into a battle stance, ready to take the defensive against her enemy. But before they could fight, Swiftcloud heard Shadowfang's yowl cut through the air. In an instant she turned, pelting in the direction of the sound. One of Treeclan's senior warriors had the young black tom pinned on his back. Shadowfang's teeth sunk into one of the cat's shoulders, while the cat clawed at Grassclan tom's chest. Swiftcloud ducked her head and charged forward, slamming herself into the warrior's side. The cat fell off of Shadowfang with a loud "oof" and was sent running after Swiftcloud gave their muzzle a good couple of swipes.

The mates gave each other a respectful nod before taking up fighting positions, rear to rear. Cats came barreling towards them, pushing them back as they fought. It seemed to be Treeclan's new strategy, as the entire fight moved closer and closer to the Grassclan border. Eventually, they were fighting right on the scent markers. Despite this, the clans were evenly matched. An equal amont of cats remained, and the energy hadn't yet died away. We still have a chance, Swiftcloud thought hopefully as she sent an apprentice-the one who'd found her-running away.

Suddenly, a gut wrenching shriek made every cat freeze. That noise, Swiftcloud soon realized with horror, had come from one of Grassclan's ranks. Heatherwing lay on her side by the roots of a sycamore tree, a pool of blood forming around her still body. Every cat turned to look in the molly's direction. Some mewled in shock at the sight, while others bristled and shrank under their own weight.

Rabbitstorm rushed to Heatherwing's side, drawing in a sharp gasp as he took in the sight of his mate. His body instantly quaked, mouth opening up into a silent wail. He moved, pressing his forehead against her newly plump belly. No cat need say a word to know what had become of the young warrior.

Still, Snowfrost approached to conduct a confirming exam. As she sat beside Heatherwing, Swiftcloud noticed blood on the medicine cat's paws. She must have gotten them dirty from tending to the injured, is what the patched molly had figured. Snowfrost touched her ear to Heatherwing's muzzle, a paw resting on the young molly's chest. The clan held their breath as their medicine cat checked for signs of life. For a heartbeat, Rabbitstorm lifted his head, looking to his aunt with slightest bit of hope. But when she pulled away, Snowfrost gave a somber shake of her head.

"Grassclan, fall back!" Whitestar commanded at once, her cats coming to stand at her side, casting sidelong glances in the direction of Heatherwing and Treeclan. All were prepared to depart for home, eager to rest and recuperate. And to mourn Heatherwing. That was, all except for Chicorynose. The brave deputy marched forward, ears flat against her head, eyes dark with anger. She stopped just a whisker length shy of the border, fur fluffed and tail lashing violently.

"Treeclan scum...You killed my little sister! She was expecting kits for Starclan's sake! Couldn't you all see that?!" She whipped her head around glaring at the enemy clan. Her lips drew back in a snarl, claws unsheathing to dig into the earth. "Which one of you fox-hearts did this? Huh? Who should we hold responsible for the death of such innocent lives?"

"Chicorynose." Swiftcloud found herself padding forward, placing herself at the deputy's side. The two mollies pressed their flanks together, a sympathetic purr rumbling in the younger's chest. "Come on. We need to get you home. I promise I'll help find who did this. But we need to leave now."

Chicorynose glanced over her shoulder at her old apprentice, a terrible look of displeasure on her muzzle. Swiftcloud whimpered out a quiet "please", which eventually prompted the deputy to turn. Her plumed tail continued to lash, revealing the resentment she undoubtedly felt from backing down from this fight.

"This isn't over," Chicorynose warned, finally joining the rest of the clan. With the deputy returned, Swiftcloud padded over to help Rabbitstorm next. The fluffy lynx point tom remained unmoving as she approached, his face buried in Heatherwing's lilac fur. An empathetic pang twisted Swiftcloud's belly as she watched her friend wallow in misery. As much as she'd like to leave him in peace, this was no place to grieve over the loss of a loved one. Apprehensively, Swiftcloud stuck out a paw, lightly prodding it into the tom's side. Rabbitstorm lifted his head slightly to look at her, a few stray tears dripping off his fluffy face.

"I'll help you," she offered quietly. Rabbitstorm gave the slightest nod and rose to his paws. Shakily he grabbed Heatherwing by her scruff, saving room for Swiftcloud to grab the other side. At Whitestar's silent command the clan made the slow march back home, the pair following slowly behind. There were no calls of victory splitting the air this time. Swiftcloud glanced over to see Treeclan silently hold formation before slinking back into their forest home, most likely too stunned by the deputy's outburst. I don't blame her. If I had lost someone so close to me I don't know what I'd do.

Back home, Heatherwing's vigil was in good attendance. Rabbitstorm stuck to his deceased mate's side like sap to a pine tree, Quailbelly right beside him. Both cats cried with the same momentum, hurting the exact same way. Each had a different relationship with the dead lilac molly, yet both had felt her love equally. And returned it just the same.

Beside each cat sat a supportive yet distressed loved one. On Rabbitstorm's side was Jaybird. The queen licked her son's ears, no doubt whispering calming words to help him settle down. And on Quailbelly's side was Frostfeather, who had her paws against her mate's flank, kneading her fur soothingly.

On the opposite side of Heatherwing's body, Chicorynose, Whitestar, Cricketsong, and all of the their older kits were there. They pressed against each other in a supportive huddle, taking in the last of their lost kin before she would be gone forever.

Swiftcloud watched on from the sidelines, not sure how to feel about Heatherwing's death. She was upset for sure, but another emotion seemed to mingle with it. Anger? Perhaps even wonder? Swiftcloud desperately wanted to find out who was responsible for Heatherwing's death. It seemed so unlikely that Treeclan-or any clan really-would kill an expecting cat. Surely it wasn't planned. Would Treeclan want to harm a soon to be mother in revenge for the attack on Brightsky earlier in Leaf-fall? If they did, their plot surely wouldn't involve murder. Swiftcloud did not know Brightsky personally, but she knew the Den Mother would not want a pregnant cat's blood spilled on her account. Then, would that mean the death of Heatherwing was a personal attack? Maybe a Treeclan cat wanted revenge for what happened to Brightsky and took things too far.

Or...could it be possible that Heatherwing was killed by the same cat responsible for the poisoning of Ambereye, Butterflytail, and Waspwing? There wasn't any evidence of this. But there was a slight possibility. Maybe the cat became dissatisfied with the passive form of murder. Maybe they developed a blood lust, or wanted a quicker way to kill off Grassclan's warriors. Right now this was just a crazy theory. Swiftcloud would have to investigate and search for clues in order to find out more. But for now, all she could do was sit by helplessly and watch the clan mourn another loss of their ranks. Justice will be served. I will find who is responsible for all the wrongful deaths.

#warrior cats #warrior cats ocs #long post #wc ocs #wcs #Signs of the Moon: Moon Rise #Moon Rise #chapter 36

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projectnoah · 4 years

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Burmese Pythons in the Everglades: How an Invasive Species is Hurting Native Wildlife

As of February 2013, scientists estimate anywhere between 30,000 and 150,000 Burmese Pythons exist in South Florida. As you may have suspected, Burmese Pythons are not native to Florida. They are native to Southeast Asia and south China.

The problem? The pythons are completely decimating populations of native wildlife. A study conducted by Michael Dorcas, a herpetologist at Davidson College in North Carolina in 2011 documented “severe declines” in mammal sightings. The 2003 to 2011 surveys compare mammal sightings to data from surveys conducted in 1996 and 1997 – before the python was breeding in the wild.

As the population of pythons has spiraled upwards in the last decade, mammal observations have declined by the following percentages:

87.5% bobcat decline

94.1% white-tailed deer decline

98.9% opossum decline

99.3% raccoon decline

100% rabbit decline

100% fox decline

Not a single rabbit or fox sighting was found. Furthermore, the impact of the invasive species on rare animals is unknown. It’s unclear whether or not the python is consuming the Florida panther. It’s quite possible, as these snakes eat leopards in their native habitat of Southeast Asia.

As per above, the pythons aren’t picky eaters. They will often eat any animal they can find. Even large numbers of birds are being consumed. Over 25% of the pythons found in the Everglades contain bird remains.

The above-listed mammals simply have no instinctive defense or fear from a large carnivorous snake. As a result, they fall easy prey. Before the Burmese Python in early 2000, the last large snake to live in this region was 16 million years ago, when a boa-like snake became extinct.

The study does report that certain animals, like turtles, may thrive as a result of this ecological distortion. Raccoons routinely prey upon turtle eggs. With severe declines in raccoon population, turtles have the potential to grow at a higher rate. Of course, this argument assumes the python doesn’t eventually turn on the turtle as food sources dwindle.

In addition to the above report, the National Academy of Sciences published a separate report suggesting bird and coyote populations are also threatened due to the invasive species.

“Survival of the Fittest” Argument Rebuffed

Some counter that survival-of-the-fittest dictates the pythons should spread, as they are simply more powerful predators than their prey. They argue there’s nothing fundamentally wrong with this scenario as it simply represents natural selection playing course. But this argument makes little sense as it runs counter to how ecosystems function.

Burmese pythons in their native habitat in Southeast Asia do not cause a 90+% decline in the population of their prey. And neither do large carnivorous snakes like anacondas in the Amazon. Populations of predator and prey evolve together over time and live in balance. Prey develop natural instinctive defenses from these predators. The animals of the Everglades have no natural instinctive defense from these large snakes.

It’s worth noting a further element of tragic irony in this story. While the pythons are spreading like rabbits throughout south Florida, they are endangered in their native habitat of Southeast Asia. Back home, they are hunted for their skins and captured alive for sale abroad as pets.

How did they get here?

Between 1996 and 2006, roughly 99,000 pythons were imported into the United States as pets.

It’s believed the pythons began breeding in the wild as a result of two primary causes: irresponsible pet owners releasing them and the animals escaping their loosely-kept cages as a result of hurricane or stormy weather.

As for the former, these snakes grow to an average of 12 feet. Pet owners likely grew uncomfortable with the health risk and financial burden of securing and feeding a 12-foot snake in their home. After not wanting to deal with these challenges, many released them into the wild.

As for the latter, in 1992, Florida’s Hurricane Andrew was responsible for destroying a python breeding facility. In the late 90’s and early 2000’s, other less severe storms likely enabled snakes in loosely secured cages to escape during stormy weather.

Here’s a brief timeline of how the population began to spiral out of control:

2000: A breeding population was confirmed in the Everglades.

2001-2005: 201 pythons observed or killed in the Everglades.

2006-2007: 418 pythons seen or killed in the Everglades.

2009: 5,000 – 180,000 estimated by South Florida Water Management District

It’s difficult to know exact population numbers over the last decade as these animals are difficult to spot. The above numbers are based on sightings and killings of pythons. The bottom line is that from early 2000 to the present, the population of breeding pythons in the Everglades spiraled to well over 30,000.

More on the Python’s Biology

The severity of this proliferation is better understood after learning about certain aspects of this snake’s biology.

For starters, the Burmese python routinely lives 25 years or more. Astonishingly, the record life span for a python in captivity is 47 years!

Females typically lay one clutch of eggs per year, usually in the spring. Each clutch contains somewhere between 12 and 36 eggs. But much larger numbers have been recorded. This August 15 report from the New York Times included finding a 17-foot python with 87 eggs.

These key aspects of the python’s reproductive behavior, combined with the prey’s lack of natural defenses, have led to a perfect storm of ecological collapse for the land-dwelling mammals.

Some Good News: Pythons Can’t Survive the Winter

I was thrilled to learn some apparent good news in this otherwise awful story. The consensus among herpetologists appears that the python cannot survive through a winter beyond south Florida.

An initial USGS study by Reed Rodda in 2008 claimed the pythons could expand as far north as the southern third of the United States. But that study appears to be an outlier.

Consensus among snake biologists is that Burmese pythons are unable to withstand a winter beyond south Florida. An experimental closure in South Carolina kept a number of pythons over winter. All of the animals died, as they could not properly acclimate to the change in climate. When it gets cold, these pythons simply die. The study did note, however, that the pythons could survive extended periods of temperatures lower than southern Florida.

Python's inability to survive winter, however, may very well be the only good news with regards to their ability to spread throughout the region.

Research in an early 2012 issue of the Journal of Experimental Marine Biology and Ecology report concluded that pythons are able to tolerate salt water and can therefore travel through marine and estuarine environments like bays or inlets. The open seas are also a possibility. Prior to the report, it was hoped that the pythons would die in saltwater and would therefore be primarily limited to the freshwater of the Everglades.

The snakes can therefore travel along the southeastern coastline and would only be limited by climate restrictions. Worse still, many climate biologists and snake herpetologists claim this climatic range is quite suitable habitat and very similar to that of Southeast Asia.

Burmese Pythons and the American Alligator

One animal in the Everglades appears able to pose a threat to an adult python. In a battle between the Burmese Python and an American Alligator, who wins? The answer: it depends. Both animals have been found to prey on one another. A large alligator can kill and eat a medium-sized python. And the opposite holds true for a large python.

To be fair, newly hatched juvenile pythons are vulnerable to predation by birds and other animals; but that doesn’t say much as the young of any species are always vulnerable.

Back to the alligator-python battle. How is it decided? The battle is often decided by two main factors: the respective size of each animal and the caliber of the first strike. If the alligator secures a swift bite at the python’s head, the snake’s neck will snap and it dies instantly. The python, on the other hand, aims to wrap itself around the alligator, as it would any other prey. After securing a full wrap, it suffocates the animal and then eats it whole. For a successful alligator hunt, size is key for the snake. The larger the python, the greater it’s chance of successfully wrapping itself around the alligator. Pythons are not venomous and must wrap around their prey to secure a kill. Naturally, small and medium-sized alligators are more vulnerable.

Some sensational pictures have showed up online of battles between the python and the alligator.

There’s even a grotesque story of a python’s stomach exploding after attempting to consume an alligator too large to digest. Its body rejected the meal outright and the snake died a gruesome death. For any remaining survival-of-the-fittest arguers out there - no, ecosystems are not supposed to function in which a predator’s remaining food source causes its stomach to explode.

If there’s any silver lining here, however small, some predation of the python is good and healthy.

Size becomes a key-determining factor of survival between what will inevitably be the two significant remaining animals. Over time, as evolution runs its course, natural selection would favor increasingly large alligators and pythons.

Yes, what was previously a balanced and varied ecosystem of rabbits, foxes, bobcats, deer and opossums in the Everglades is now becoming a battle between larger-and-larger pythons and alligators.

Public Hunts to Raise Awareness

In February of 2012, the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission initiated a 30-day hunt to raise public awareness on this issue. Around 1,600 people from 38 states participated in the hunt. 68 pythons were killed. 68. Assuming 30,000 are in the wild, the low end of figures, 68 represents .2% of the python population. The primary reason for this low number is that the snakes are notoriously difficult to locate.

A more recent hunt, as part of Florida's 2016 Python Challenge, took place this past January. 106 pythons were captured this past year. This represents an improvement from 2013 but hardly puts a dent in the total number in the wild. Cooler temperatures have forced snakes into open spaces and assists hunters in finding them. In addition, hunters are improving their hunting skills.

Florida's approach appears to be containing the snakes as the solution. This hunt represents one of the first steps in the process. And the hunt also was meant as a way of doing some introductory research on where the snakes are located.

The Nature Conservancy also launched a Python Patrol Program in 2008 where citizens are trained to alert authorities of snake sightings. As part of the program, wildlife officials then move forward with capturing the snakes. The program was effective in the Florida Keys and then was expanded mainland to the Everglades with support from the National Park Service and the Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission. In total, 200 python capture responders are trained.

This python patrol program is unquestionably a step in the right direction.

Preventing the spread of these animals is an enormously challenging undertaking. I have no idea how it can be done. These animals are excellent swimmers and travel extensively through marsh, swamps and river valleys. They also travel by land and are great climbers with prehensile tails.

Worse still, a challenge exists with Florida’s proposed attempt at containment. Reducing the population of pythons decreases the competition for remaining food resources. As a result, the pythons that do remain become healthier, stronger and more fertile. And in the end, the population continues to grow at high rates. Yep, decreasing the population in the short-term might actually cause it to spike in the long-term. The brutal reality is that preventing the spread of these animals appears nearly impossible.

In Conclusion

It's a tragic situation for all the native wildlife defenseless from these invasive animals - bobcat, deer, opossum, raccoon, rabbit and fox. When these animals run out, it seems any remaining animals would be vulnerable as the pythons basically eat anything.

My point isn't a sentimental one in favor of one specific animal over another; I have nothing against the pythons. It's simply an appreciation for ecological balance, sustainability and life. The situation now is completely imbalanced and unsustainable. It's truly tragic to see the devastating consequences humanity can have on an ecosystem because of some people's misguided desire to own as a "pet" a 12-foot wild snake.

In January of 2012, the federal government announced a ban on the import of the Burmese pythons, South African python, North African python, and yellow anaconda. Interior Secretary Ken Salazar acknowledges the severity of the crisis when he uses the word "forever" to describe how long the ban would last.

Apparently, the law was held up in bureaucracy for nearly two years by the reptile industry. Furthermore, environmentalists were pushing for 9 species of non-native snakes to be included in the legislation but only 4 were listed.

Thank you to the federal government for finally getting this right. Naturally, this ban represents progress and is a good thing.

At the same time, the ban seems monumentally overdue, at least 7 years too late. With populations of many native mammals down 90+% and the most conservative estimate pinning 30,000 pythons breeding in the wild, the damage is done and irreversible. While good and necessary, this ban is a bit like administering a vaccine to a patient that died years ago. Perhaps, we will learn faster next time.

#invasivespecies #everglades

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lisatelramor · 4 years

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Black Cat (or a White Elephant)

Every now and then I pull out a DCMK genderbend fic I started in 2012. Probably never going to finish or edit it to be honest. But. Because it took a sidestep and became an AU of an AU partway through (thus why it either needs compatibility editing i can’t be assed to do or made into 2 different things...) I had a few scenes that no longer fit. This is one of them, so the genderbending is kind of a side note. Also in this AU Kaito and Saguru started forming a sort of tentative friendship sooner than later.

***

Kaito poked the box with her toe. The creature in it growled and thumped around the plastic interior. Kaito pulled out her cell phone. It was answered on the second ring.

“Hello?”

“Did you mail me a kitten?” Coughing and sputtering came from the other end of the phone conversation.

“…What?”

“Did you mail me a kitten?” The cat in the box was quiet again. Too quiet.

“Why would you think I sent you a kitten?” Hakuba sounded like she swallowed a sip of tea wrong.

Kaito squatted down to the box’s label. “I just signed off on an air-mailed package from Europe. A package containing a cat.”

“And you thought I sent it?”

“Well…” Not really, no. She couldn’t see Hakuba sending anything other than the occasional letters from halfway across the world, and certainly not something like a cat. “It was kind of a stretch, but I don’t really know anyone…from…Europe. Huh.” Kaito peeked through the hole in the box. Black fur.

“I take it you figured out your mystery cat mailer?” Hakuba’s dry tone was something Kaito found herself missing. She could go without the superior attitude it often accompanied, but Hakuba could be a wonderful straight-man to Kaito’s goofiness if she’d play along.

“I think I might have an idea.” She did know one other person in Europe. And Chat Noir was probably the only person who would think to send Kaito a black cat.

“Does it have a name?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t opened the box yet.”

“Great, call it Schrodinger.”

Kaito snorted. “I’m not naming a cat Schrodinger. And I’m pretty certain the cat in there is alive since it was growling at me just a minute ago. Besides, that’s a mouthful.”

“Then shorten it to Schrodi. Or Ding.” It sounded like Hakuba was holding back laughter.

“Just a sec.” Kaito opened the cat crate. A black furred body shot out of the opening in a blur of fluffed fur and claws. It hid under the couch glaring at Kaito irritably. It probably blamed her for the nasty cross-continental trip. Taped inside the crate was a short letter. “Her name’s Estelle and she’s supposed to keep me company.”

“Does this person realize you have enough doves to supply wedding halls with complimentary flights across the chapel?”

“Probably not.” Hmm, a cat and doves. This wouldn’t turn out well would it? The cat growled from under the couch. “Well I can’t ship it back to Europe.”

“Keep it on a trial basis,” Hakuba advised. “If it gets into trouble, Aoshi seems like the type who would like a pet.”

“Good idea.” Kaito crumpled the note and went in search of something a cat could eat. She was pretty sure there was canned chicken in some cupboard. Honestly this could just as easily be a way of messing with her than Chat Noir sending a thoughtful gift. She would have appreciated some notice at least. “Cats eat chicken, right?”

“And fish.” Kaito flinched, almost dropping the can and her phone. The damn f-word. “I wish you luck as the new, proud owner of a cat.”

“I’ll let you know if it lasts the week.” She set the dish of canned chicken in the center of the living room and retreated to a chair on the opposite side of the room as the cat. “Thanks for not being the one sending me a cat.”

“I can safely say that I will never be the person air mailing you a cat, Kuroba.” Hakuba was surely smiling on the other end. “I should be able to visit Japan in the future. This is your fair warning.”

“I’m not KID,” Kaito said automatically. It was practically a scripted part of their conversations by now. “But it will be good to catch up. I’ll pass along the news to Aoshi.”

“Good. Maybe you’ll get to meet Watson.”

“Can you get a European sparrow-hawk through customs?”

“With the right papers you can get just about anything through customs.”

“True.” The cat stuck her head out from under the couch. Her ears flicked back and forth in Kaito’s direction in time with her voice. Paw-step by paw-step, she crept until she reached the bowl in the middle of the room. Her tail twitched. Kaito could see her preparing from a trap. “I’ll see you around, Hakuba.”

“Have a good morning, Kuroba.” The phone disconnected and Kaito closed her phone silently. The cat finally stooped to eat the chicken. It looked like this would be a long process to get it to trust her. Thankfully Kaito was a patient person when it came to animals. She’d just have to keep the doves far away from dangerous kitty claws. “Hey, Estelle,” Kaito murmured. Ears flicked forward, but she kept gulping down the chicken. “What is Chat Noir thinking sending you, kitty cat?” Estelle growled. It was going to be a very long process.

*o*o*o*o*

“Allô? C'est de la part de qui?”

“Ms. Jones?” Kaito purred in her best Kid voice. “Just calling to inform you that your gift might not live until her adult fur grows in.”

“Kaitou Kid,” Chat Noir said, sounding pleased. “So you received Estelle.”

“Yes.” Kaito glared at the cat currently trapped under a laundry basket. It was alternating between batting at a feather and glaring at her with big, yellow eyes. “I don’t think we’ve hit it off.”

Chat Noir laughed. “Cats are picky. Friendship is something that must be earned.”

“Well she isn’t really helping me like her.” Kaito shifted her phone to the other ear so that she could better soothe the dove on her forearm. Poor Karui was missing feathers from her tail and still shaking an hour after Kaito found her trying and failing to escape the cat. “She tried to eat my doves.”

“You keep birds?” There was a sigh from the other end. “No, no, of course you keep birds. You are self-proclaimed a magician-thief. You have kept them separate; you would not be so foolish as to let a cat into the roost, so to speak.”

“Of course, I’m not stupid.” Kaito skritched at Karui’s feathers along her head and neck like she enjoyed. The trembling became soft coos of contentment. “Accidents, however, happen and I can’t watch her all the time.” The cat in the basket chose that moment to meow loudly and authoritatively, like it could convince Kaito to let it out. She scowled at it. “The cat likes my neighbor for some reason. She climbs onto his shoulder and everything.”

“Does this neighbor like Estelle?”

“Terribly.” Estelle meowed again. Karui ruffled her feathers and shuffled higher along Kaito’s shoulder.

“Give her a bit more time. If she remains a nuisance, your neighbor would be a good home.” Chat Noir sounded amused. She probably was enjoying one-upping Kaito in some way even if it was in the form of a gift-turned-irritant.

“Fine. I wanted to be sure that there would be no hard feelings if this were the case.” Kaito transferred Karui to the perch she kept in her room for when she trained her doves. Karui scooted to her favorite place by the edge that was scored with hundreds of claw indentations from generations of doves. Kaito squatted to look at the cat. Surprisingly, Estelle didn’t hiss.

“None at all,” Chat Noir said. “She was sent with good intentions. I am glad to hear that you have companions of the human sort.” There was almost a question in her tone. Kaito frowned.

“He doesn’t know. I have friends who do, so please butt out.”

“Territorial, no?” Chat Noir was definitely laughing on her end of the phone. “Do I count among these friends, Petite Phantom?”

Kaito snorted and stuck out a hand for Estelle to sniff. The kitten sneezed. “Maybe. Maybe not.” She was still annoyed that Chat Noir knew where to send the package. Kaito would have to respond in kind… Although knowing her phone number probably was equally invasive for people who liked their private lives to remain private. “I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt.” Estelle licked Kaito’s fingers before biting her pinky with needle teeth. Kaito winced. Thankfully she couldn’t bite too hard since she was still a kitten.

“Then I wish you luck with this…male friend.” She was grinning and Kaito was going to send her something nasty. Maybe a package that spat blue dye onto everything the moment it was opened. Or combining it with a glitter bomb. She would find glitter in places for years.

“It’s not like that, and thanks anyway.” Estelle was licking her hand again, but she was keeping her teeth to herself. Aoshi was going to love his new kitten. Love. And Kaito would gladly send the cat-toys, litter, food, and water dishes with her. “A pleasant day to you.”

“And to you, Kuroba-chan.”

Kaito winced. “Please don’t.” Chat Noir laughed and Kaito hung up the phone. It was probably a waste of an international phone call. At least she knew that the cat hadn’t been sent just to harass her. She was sure there was a little bit of harassment involved though. Chat Noir seemed intent on fitting into some kind of older sister role. It was annoying. Kaito could take care of herself and she certainly didn’t want anyone meddling. But Chat Noir wasn’t too bad. Kaito had wanted someone for cross dressing tips after all. Estelle bit Kaito’s finger again. She glared at the innocent, wide yellow eyes.

“You. You are going to live with Aoshi.”

Estelle purred low in her throat, rubbing against Kaito and the laundry basket. There would be fur stuck to the plastic next time Kaito went to use it.

“Don’t play cute. You just want out so you can murder my pretty birdies.” She was too much of a softie if a bit of purring and rubbing earned her forgiveness. Estelle mewed and butted her head against Kaito’s fingers, rubbing her whole body along them. “That counts as bribery. You’re not winning any points.” The kitten made a churring sound deep in her throat. Kaito sighed. “Fine. But far from Karui. You almost scared her to death.”

She lifted off the basket and scooped the ball of fluff into her arms. Pinpricks of claws immediately dug into her chest and forearm. “Yeah, yeah. I know.” Kaito scratched the fuzzy triangular ears and the kitten purred even as she tried to eat a button on Kaito’s shirt. “I’m sure Aoshi will spoil you rotten.” The kitten went back to the living room where she was supposed to be and Kaito closed her door firmly with Karui safe inside. The dovecot was closed for the night as well and not even a particularly intrepid cat would get in or out of there tonight. She’d talk to Aoshi in the morning. He’d probably even hug her for it. That was one upshot of an unwanted cat. And Hakuba would laugh her head off when she told her… internally. Kaito couldn’t really see Hakuba laughing hard out loud for anything short of Kaitou Kid doing something both embarrassing and entrapping. And even then it would be smug. Actually, screw Hakuba. Kaito wasn’t telling her anything. Estelle, after a day of mischief, was finally asleep.

#magic kaito #genderbend au snippet #fanfiction #my writing #i'm posting this because i keep coming back to it #so maybe posting a bit of it will let me let go #my long wips haunt me ok #i like the idea of girl!kaito and ruby jones bonding over being female thieves

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danetobelieve · 4 years

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The Birds || Evelyn and Winston

It had been a weird week. A few nights before Winston had been returning from a party and had been attacked by what they could only assume was some kind of dog. It had been big, maybe bigger then any dog Winston had seen before. But they had decided that was just their memory exaggerating things. Just like the flames they could vividly remember scorching the pavement. The burn marks on the pavement were hard to explain. It was possible they were tire burns that had faded over a number of years. Either way, in an effort to prove that everything wasn’t what it seemed. Winston had finally decided to conduct an experiment. The other night they had managed to do something. They didn’t know what. But it might have saved their life from that dog. So now they were going to attempt to repeat it, but they had to make sure that they were away from prying eyes. So they’d set off across the town and found a secluded spot. A field with a good view of the ocean, but with forests preventing anyone from watching. At least that was the plan. They had just set everything up the hay bale they planned to use as a target. Raising the hand that had erupted with light they aimed it at the hay bale and closed their eyes. Trying to focus on the emotions of the night, they stood their and did their best to concentrate. Moments ticked by, and Winston was beginning to feel their arm shake from the exertion of keeping it held aloft. Opening one eye they could see that nothing had changed and sighed. “Well I knew it,” they said aloud, to no one in particular.

She went for runs with a decent amount of regularity. Evelyn knew that it was important to do often, especially if one wanted it to be actually effective with the long-term results of the exercise. She got the greatest pleasure out of dance, still, but running was sometimes easier. Not only that, but it gave her a periodic chance to survey nearly whatever portion of the town she wished to during the daytime. After all, unless she actively trespassed, who was going to stop her, a pretty blonde woman in nice running clothes, to suspect something was off? Practically nobody, and that worked more than just alright for her. Today, her run had taken her to a slightly more secluded area, but with a beautiful ocean view. Normally in an area like this, there would not be so many people about, but she noticed someone moving about, and stopped suddenly, turning her head to look at them. It wasn’t until they spoke aloud that she made any further movement. “Knew what?” She asked, taking a few steps towards the figure.

To be perfectly honest, Winston had picked this spot for a number of very specific reasons. The most prominent of those was the fact that they were almost entirely isolated out here. They were 90% sure that no one would be out here. It was the middle of the working week, they had a few free hours and it wasn’t as if people just wandered around places like this. They were of course wrong. As they frowned, adjusting their glasses on their face thoughtfully, they found themselves almost jumping out of their skin as a voice retorted back to them. For a moment they hoped that they’d actually done something, but then it occurred to them that perhaps they weren’t alone. Whirling around, they spotted her. Taking a deep breath they swallowed and tried to think of something that they could say that was going to explain away what they were doing. They almost wished they had a gun so they could act like they were about to engage in some good old target practice. But guns had never been Winston’s forte, there was a reason they had ruled out being a police officer. As she approached, they blurted out the first thing they could think of, which wasn’t really anything at all. “What?” they exclaimed, somewhat startled by the words they’d just spat out.

She bit her lip, her eyes growing wider than was strictly necessary, but of use all the same. Evelyn pulled her zip-up closer around her body as she stepped toward the figure. Most people were hesitant, especially in public, right? She supposed that she ought to at least fake it, even if this was simply some unassuming human. “Perhaps I misheard, but I thought you said, ‘I knew it’, and as someone who always wants to know more, I wished to be terribly invasive and inquire.” She dug one the toe of one of her perfectly clean sneakers into the ground. “I can go, if you need me to.” She began to turn away, pulling her hair out of the ponytail, a look of apparent sorrow plain on her face. They would not let her leave, now, she hoped. Not when she was an unassuming woman only out for a daily run, right?

To be perfectly honest, Winston was so taken aback by the entire situation that they weren’t really sure what they were meant to say here. “I may well have … uh …” whoever she was, she was truly very beautiful, but Winston had to force themselves to focus on the task at hand and they refused to be distracted by her long flowing hair, the way her eyes seemed to be at almost anime wideness or, “I was talking to myself about a coding problem I’ve been working on,” they lied very flustered by the situation. Why did she sound like she was from Downton Abbey? Why was it so hot? Swallowing gently, Winston tried not to blush, and hastily pulled off their glasses to polish them and have something to occupy their hands. “It is a free country, you don’t have to go anywhere you don’t want to.” They weren’t about to make her leave.

Coding. That involved computers, right? Evelyn turned back around, her lips curving into a smile. They hadn’t let her go away, and that was more than enough of a win for her. She watched them take off their glasses, twirl them around in their hands just so. Nervous habit? she wondered, before giving a small shrug and taking a few steps back, closer to where they were standing. “Must have been quite the problem. Is this place somewhere where you will often go to think through problems?” It was a genuine question, even if part of her wondered if it truly had been a coding problem, or if this was their way of deflecting, moving conversation elsewhere. That was their right, she supposed, and they were talking to her, which was one of the most important things. “I am afraid to admit that all I truly know about coding is that it is what helps make computers run. You must be quite intelligent if you get to work on coding problems.”

As Winston rubbed a finger mark off of the right lense, they couldn’t help but stare through the lense at the hyper focused blades of grass beneath the lense whilst outside of their glasses turned fuzzy. “The piece of coding I’m working on is stuck in a cascading loop and I’m pretty sure it is because the flag names I used are the same, but distinguishing the different flags and changing them to avoid the loop is turning out to be more problematic then I would’ve liked.” Winston explained their lie easily, lying to their parents about ‘computer problems’ was a forte of there’s and the skill had translated over into lived practice well. Then they looked up and remembered who they were talking to and their tongue transmuted back into the lead. “Coding is kind of like anything else,” Winston hoped she hadn’t noticed the deliberately set hay bale target behind them, “if you put in the work and you practice then sooner or later it’ll just click. People just let movies intimidate them. Most coding is based on pre-existing code and just tailoring it to do what you want.”

They started talking more and Evelyn had to knit her eyebrows together in concentration, because even the little bit of a talk of coding was out of her wheelhouse. “Right.” She quipped, voice clear. “That does seem as though it would be rather a bit problematic.” She giggled, the laughter mostly forced though to anybody besides herself it would appear entirely genuine, as though she was merely a bit nervous. “I suppose that is true. After all, though I am no expert and have not practiced in years, I did start from being only okay and became quite brilliant at dance.” Though there is always the familial skill with that, as if I were reliving what my mother would have wanted. She’d always wondered if that was part of why her father never let her consider it seriously. “Do you study coding?” Perhaps that question erred on the side of overly invasive, but she did not think so. It was even less personal than names, “Oh, I am Evelyn, if you wish to make that sort of introduction.” She held out one hand, a half-smirk-half-smile on her face. “Thank you in advance for your kindness in answering my questions.”

Whoever she was, she was completely set on talking to them. Winston couldn’t help but find this a little strange. Usually people kind of ignored them. Not that they hated that. It suited them just fine for the most part. It wasn’t like they were a social outcast or anything. They had friends. They just weren’t the type of person who was outgoing enough to command attention. “It’s not great.” It wouldn’t be if it were a real problem. “But uh, y’know, despite the fact that it is … problematic, I’ll just dry run it or something until I can identify the problematic parts and adjust them.” For someone so shockingly attractive, she was really interested in coding. Maybe she was just curious about the fundamental structures of code? Even to Winston that sounded kind of fake, but they were never good at reading people. “In years?” they asked curious at the implication she had once coded, “Either way, it is never too late to learn if you really wanted, there’s lots of tutorials for various languages online.” Pausing for a moment longer they nodded. “I’m studying cyber forensics and security at a postgraduate level over at UMWC.” Not the most impressive college in the world, but being in White Crest always suited Winston. “Uh, hi Evelyn,” Winston said stumbling over their own words, “I’m Winston Dane.” They slid their glasses onto their face, leaving it somewhat lopsided before tentatively reaching their hand out to shake Evelyn’s. “Most people don’t really care about this sort of stuff.”

“It seems as though you have a good handle on it,” Evelyn began, giving a small shrug. “Is this place a good one for getting your thoughts collected?” She could admire that - she used to enjoy going to various gardens around London as a child, gathering her thoughts from whatever studies she’d done that day. Sometimes her adventures into the gardens, or around London would occur at night, sneaking out right under the noses of all those who were supposed to be guarding her, protecting her. Not a one of them any the wiser. Which was simply fine by her. “Yes, a number of years. Danced when I was tiny, stopped before going to university.” Evelyn shrugged. Perhaps in another life, she would have gone on to do more with dance, but in this life it was not what was meant to happen. “Perhaps I will attempt to learn, though even I can admit that it might not be quite my forte.” She laughed. She doubted that she would ever truly want to learn coding, but it was intriguing to hear about nonetheless. “Wow, that sounds like quite something. Complex, too. You must be quite intelligent.” She pressed one hand against her side, still looking at them. She watched them place their glasses back on their face, hands still shaking a little from nerves. Was it because she’d just shown up out of the blue? Because they weren’t used to talking to people like her? Either way, she was curious. “Oh, Evelyn Hoffman is my full name. Yours is quite lovely.” She took their hand and gave it a shake. “Luckily for you, I am hardly most people.”

“I hope so,” Winston replied dishonestly, because there was absolutely nothing for them to have a good handle on. It felt unrelated but Winston couldn’t help but feel their ears burn gently. “I guess,” Winston said … honestly this time, “I don’t come outside much, but even I sometimes have enough of sitting in front of a computer all day. Sometimes you need a change of scenery and one of the good things about White Crest is that it is in the middle of nowhere and there is so much to see out here. As she explained that she had been dancing, NOT coding for a number of years, Winston couldn’t help but feel a rush of relief that they had been vague in their questioning. She obviously wasn’t talking about coding. “You never know till you try it…” Winston was concerned that may have sounded more like a question then a statement. “Uh, I’m good with computers,” they replied with a shrug, “once it clicks it’s not that hard.” At least they’d never really struggled with it. It seemed almost intuitive to them. “Thanks,” they said, taken aback by the compliment. No one had ever told them that their name was ‘quite lovely’, especially in that accent. Winston pulled at their t shirt collar and smiled. Trying their best to have a good strong grip, Winston shook her hand, though they couldn’t help but feel as if they hadn’t quite made the impression they wanted. “I mean, of course not, you’re just one person, but its an expression, I’m sure you knew that anyway… do you come here often?” they asked, their uncontrolled explosions of words finally abated and with the hope that they'd succeeded in changing the conversation.

Evelyn found this conversation incredibly fascinating. Part of it reminded her of the times, shortly after she’d discovered what she was and how she would sit on a chair in the midst of her father’s parties, just watching everyone. Remembering to blink, sometimes. Taking in just how simply human everyone was. It wasn’t quite the same right now, because she actually had to pay attention to the person in front of her, to their words and remarks. “Change of scenery is good, beneficial too, surely.” Something about fresh air being good and healthy - luckily White Crest had plenty of fresh air, better than London had. “True, you never know, though right now I can assure you I would hardly ever be expert or even borderline decent when it comes to knowledge of in-depth coding. I can change a tire on a car with relative ease, but coding is a whole other wheelhouse, so to speak.” She smiled, “I am glad it clicks for you, somebody deserves to have it be a thing of ease. Oh, and you are most welcome,” another grin appeared on her lips, teeth lightly biting down on her tongue. “Oh, I do know it was an expression, my apologies if my tone did not indicate that. Though I like to think I am properly my own self, even if there were dozens of individuals around us.” She let out a light bit of laughter at their next question, “no, none too often, though I do like to run and sometimes it is lovely to run in less population-dense spaces.” She gave a shrug, some of her hair falling over her shoulders. “I might have to come here more often now, the view is lovely.”

There were times in their life when Winston realised that the world was far more gargantuan and vast then they had ever considered. This was one of those times. Evelyn seemed to be living in a world entirely different to their own. They watched Evelyn closely. It was at times like this that they had often wondered what it would’ve been like to read someone else’s mind and know what their thoughts would be like in that exact moment. People like Evelyn didn’t just make the effort to talk to someone like Winston. “Maybe, it helps me at least and sometimes you just need a break.” Winston wasn’t exactly living their truth right now. Generally if they could help it they did everything that they could to avoid going outside. But they hadn’t wanted Ricky to see them trying to do the whole flashlight hand thing. “If it hasn’t really been a requirement in your life then why would you need it?” they shrugged gently, unsure of why they were working so hard to assist Evelyn, there was just something about her. Maybe it was that smile, or the way she’d just bitten her tongue, Winston had to take a deep breath. “There’s no need to apologise, it was just a bad joke.” They swallowed and were immediately glad that they didn’t actually come out here nearly as often as they had previously told Evelyn they did, after all they wouldn’t want to share this spot with anyone if they actually cared about it. “Yes, White Crest has some truly lovely views. The sea is beautiful.”

“Breaks can be good.” She replied. Obviously, she wanted to add -- not directed at the person in front of her, but at herself. Stating the obvious was not something Evelyn usually did, she liked to be more clever in her remarks, usually. Though apparently there was a first time for everything, this being one of those times. “Fair. Though one might think that it would have been more useful than memorizing Latin and Ancient Greek, but in fairness, and with no offense to your interests, I found languages like those two more fascinating than the idea of computers. I preferred the library to the computers in my house, growing up.” It was true, even when they’d gotten computers and everything, Evelyn had much preferred to spend her time curled up with every book she could get her hands on, even the ones her father deemed too scary. She’d persuaded maids and nannies and even a girlfriend or two of her father’s to reach them for her, a finger pressed against her lips - shhh, it will be our secret. “I simply did not wish for you to think me rude,” she laughed, “but I am grateful to know it was a joke. She followed their gaze to the ocean, “the sea is lovely. I find its mystery quite enthralling, if I might be entirely honest with you.” She looked back over to them. “Are you from here?”

Winston could hear gulls in the background. They had never been a huge fan of the creatures but for some reason they were really making a lot of noise right now. Doing their best to ignore it, they shrugged. “Everyone has to take one eventually right?” They weren’t really sure what else to say. This conversation had gone on for longer then they would’ve thought and Winston wasn’t exactly the type to keep people’s attention for very long. “I guess everyone has different preferences, I don’t know how you would make use of those languages outside of studying the classics, but if it is what you’re interested in then all the power to you right? People should be able to enjoy their interests unashamed of them.” Looking out at the ocean that roiled and shifted before their very eyes, Winston couldn’t help but notice the spiral of seagulls that seemed to be forming before their eyes. There hadn’t been that many of them before. “I doubt anyone could find you rude.” Winston blurted, and even if they did, they doubted that they would complain about it. People didn’t usually have a bad word to say against pretty people. “From White Crest? Yes, born and raised here. I almost moved for college but it didn’t seem like the right move and then I got an internship here and it seemed sensible to stay local.”

She almost stiffened at the sound of the seagulls. She ought to have been used to it by now, but at least the ones on Harris Island just avoided her home for the most part and she did not have to put up with the screeching. Apparently she would not be afforded the same luxury here. Evelyn nodded at their comment. “Everyone should, though not everyone does.” She glanced over at the seagulls, willing them to go away, please. Though most people didn’t identify that as a hallmark of who she was, unless they were in the know and she could only hope that Winston was not in the know. “Yes, I will admit that the languages are functionally useless now, but I enjoy them, and it was a way to exercise my brain when I was a child.” Another small shrug of her shoulders. “Thank you, that is quite kind of you to say.” She pressed her fingers against her temple, the noise a bit too loud - why couldn’t animals just leave her be, usually? Why did they feel it such a need to make just noise? She would never harm one, not intentionally at least. “Especially since we just met, and I have done nothing but invade your personal space and time.” She smiled. “I will have been here four years come April. You must know so much about the town.” The seagulls continued to caw, and she could not help but look back over at them. “Funny bird behaviors today, hm?” She remarked, her lips turning into an expression of confusion. “Staying local seems nice. This town is quite delightful, most of the time.”

The seagulls appeared to be somewhat agitated, but Winston wouldn’t have been able to tell you for the life of them what their problem was. It seemed bizarre that they were getting so worked up. But Winston put them out of mind as they focussed on Evelyn. “I read somewhere once that if you learn Latin the rest of the ‘romance’ languages are easier because they’re all more or less rooted in Latin, so I guess you’ve got that going for you. Do you speak many languages then?” They were honestly a bit shocked that this conversation was going on, most people would’ve moved on by now, but Evelyn seemed intent on talking with them. “Oh, no problem…” Winston blushed gently before looking at their shoes intently for a moment. What was that noise? Was it really those seagulls? Winston hadn’t noticed how deafening it had really become. “I mean, I know some stuff, I don’t know if I would go so far as to say SO much, but yeah, I know my way around.” They had been here a long time now. Looking back to the birds, Winston was about to make a comment about how nice it was to stay local and how they had to apologise for just how rude they were being. But then a seagull decided to dive bomb them, it darted straight into Winston’s temple, violently beating it’s wings against them before soaring off into the sky. “Ow, what the fuck?!”

“Yes, that and certain scientific concepts and names become easier.” Evelyn gave a small shrug. “I speak French fluently, but that is it.” She nearly bristled at the sound of the seagulls. She should have been used to it by now, but it never became any more pleasant. “I bet you know your way around all sorts of places, that is so handy.” She paused, “I have lived here for almost four years but there are some parts of town that still get me all turned around.” Just then, one of the birds came down and flapped against Winston’s face. “Perhaps we should continue our discussion elsewhere,” Evelyn continued, waving her hand up again as another seagull came towards them, cawing for all its might.

As the seagulls whirled around them, Winston did their best to avoid their beating wings and peaking beaks. It wasn’t exactly what they had been looking for today. A beak nipped into their shoulder and drew blood, and winced lurched forward, batting at the swarm of seagulls that had taken odds with them. “I think it might be a good idea if we tried to get away,” Winston agreed, “something seems to have really riled them up. I’ve never seen or heard of anything like this.” Ducking underneath a seagull that was hurtling towards their face, Winston shuffled forwards, birds dive bombing them in all directions. They did their best to beat them off, but there were so many of them coming from so many different ways. “What the hell is this?” they were nervous, this entire town appeared to be doing weird things and they couldn’t guess why.

Her hand clenched into a fist involuntarily, and Evelyn swatted at one of the seagulls. They were not normally this vicious, but seagulls were known for being brazen, she figured, and perhaps that was why they took their dislike of her species a step further than most animals. “Oh, me neither, but perhaps something set them off, some sort of sickness transmitted through fish, because of pollution?” It sounded false as she said it, but with a grin flashed towards Winston, she hoped that her wide eyes and smile would distract them enough or at least just assume that she was less intelligent than she was. Which normally was something she loathed, but if it got them out of this situation she would take it.

Honestly, Winston wasn’t even paying attention to a single thing that Evelyn had said. They were more worried about these animals. They’d never really been a huge fan of the outdoors in the first place, they were always more comfortable in front of some version of a computer screen. Or at least sat around a table playing a board game or Dungeons & Dragons. They could feel panic rising in their stomach, their heart was racing and they felt their ears burn red hot. Reaching out to cover their body from the seagulls. They waited for the next impact, and were shocked when they heard a gentle thud. Looking around, they saw a number of other seagulls briefly thud into the side of a shimmering bubble. Apparently too irritated that they couldn’t reach their prey, the animals began to disperse and not long after the bubble dissolved. Winston had never seen anything like it. They could feel sweat beading their brow and trickling down their neck. They were suddenly exhausted. Which was weird. “Did … did you see that?” Winston had seen too much weird shit in the last few days to really question this, “I’m not crazy right?”

All of a sudden, the bothersome gulls crashed into some sort of, bubble, was it? and fell down, while others flew off. Evelyn pursed her lips together, looking back over toward Winston. Almost as if to ask if they had any idea about what had just happened, but instead they looked almost more nervous than before. Humans really did get their nerves all tangled up so very easily, didn’t they? “Oh I absolutely saw that,” she nodded, still taking a few steps away, “though I cannot say I have a singular clue as to what that was.” She was supposed to be nervous too, right. “However, I am not certain if I want to stay around too much, lest the gulls return.” She glanced over to them, wondering if they would feel the same way - wondering where exactly the bubble had come from.

Winston gazed wide eyed around them. The gulls dispersed and they were once again left alone, maybe a little more battered and bruised then they had been moments ago. “That’s so weird…” Winston had seen enough weird stuff recently and they weren’t sure that they were ready to accept this. But it couldn’t be a coincidence. Not with everything else that had happened to them recently. They weren’t sure what the hell was going on right now but they knew that they didn’t want to stay here any longer. “I don’t think…” they were truly speechless. Shaking their head gently, they shook themselves into life and headed back the way that they had come. “I think getting out of here is probably for the best.”

#p: evelyn #para #wickedswriting #the birds

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artificialqueens · 5 years

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And So We Run (ch.11) - Traumathicc

A/N: It’s time for a good ol’ trip to flashback city! In which Alyssa is a hard working single mother and Adore should definitely go see a doctor.

A relatively sunny day sometime in the beginning of April, approximately six years ago.

That’s how it had started.

It was a particularly busy day at the school, and Laganja had managed to sneak away from her mother/teachers watchful eye. She had crept down into the cellar of the schoolhouse and used a back door leading out into a relatively crowded alley. Then she’d just blended in with the crowd until she was far enough to run away from the streets and into the woods. It was relatively easy, seeing as this was far from the first time the young girl had used this escape route.

Because the schools teacher and her mother happened to be the same person, it wasn’t exactly easy for Laganja to make friends her own age. That, however, wasn’t exactly the only reason. The town was small, and everyone knew at least a thing or two about everyone else in the area.

This, of course, caused gossip and rumors to fly around town like flies on a hot summer's day. And Laganja’s mother happened to be the victim of at least half of them. Most of them stemmed from the fact that neither of the Edwards sisters shared a father, since all of them were either dead or had moved elsewhere. This unfortunate circumstance gave birth to the admittedly silly urban legend known as “Alyssa’s curse.”

The basics of it was that, in her youth, Alyssa Edwards had the misfortune of never finding love cast upon her by either an almighty god or a woodland spirit or some other junk Laganja had forgotten about. In some versions of the story it was because she had won the games. In others, like the one the blacksmiths kids down the street liked to tell, it was because the heavens wanted to punish her for being a “dirty whore,” whatever that meant. Whenever Laganja tried to ask, she would either receive a slap on the wrist or an awkward suggestion of a change in subject. The slapping usually only happened when Plastique was around to hear it, though.

And so, since their mother was apparently cursed, as the Edwards girls grew, whispers behind their backs and weird looks on the street became an everyday occurance. Plastique’s father, who was the town’s pharmacist at the time, once said that there is something about poverty that breeds superstition. Not even six months later he died of an undiscovered heart disease. Laganja guesses that it was then that her mother just sort of gave up on love and started devoting one hundred percent of her time to her children and her job.

That was an entirely different beast to tackle though, since many of the town’s mothers didn’t trust their darling children to a cursed “slut.” (Laganja had no idea what that meant either.) But persistence is a powerful weapon, and after many if’s, but’s and, as Shangela put it, ”A hell of a lot of work,” Alyssa had managed to win the trust of the town’s government and finally gotten the position as the full time teacher she’d dreamed of becoming since she started the job.

This was the pride that the Edwards family held on to. Their beacon of light after so many years of shame and mistrust, all over a stupid rumor based on coincidences. Understandingly, this caused Alyssa to begin prepping her daughters for the role of one day becoming teachers themselves. Shangela, who was fifteen, had already started helping her mother around the school, becoming an assistant of sorts. Laganja and Plastique, who were twelve and six respectively, weren’t exactly ready for that role just yet. So instead, their mother had them read virtually everything she could get her hands on.

One particular subject that Laganja fell in love with, however, was botany. She loved to take care of plants and watch them grow, their pretty shapes and colors unfolding with the help of her knowledge of their wants and needs. Her mother had even given her a small spot in their backyard where she could grow her flowers, but Laganja wanted more. She had found a small abandoned shed out in the woods one day, and had basically turned it into her own personal greenhouse. It was there that she spent most of her time, away from the town and it’s stupid gossip.

It was also there, out in the woods, that she would practice her dancing. Another hobby she’d picked up after Shangela had found an old taping of “The Swan Lake” in the school’s book and movie collection (it was much too small to be considered a library). She’d been spellbound by the women leaping across the stage in their fluffy, white dresses like angels. However, fearing her mother's disappointment, Laganja had chosen to keep her dancing a secret she was only willing to share with the woods.

And later, on that particular day in April, someone else.

She had picked a clearing where the sun shone down through the trees like a spotlight, and the green moss floor was coated in the blue dots of hepatica flowers. Seeing as she was already rather flexible, it wasn’t that difficult to get into position. The hard part was literally everything else. Luckily for Laganja, the moss was soft and broke most of her falls whenever she tripped over herself, which was something that happened more often than she would’ve liked to admit.

Just as she had been about to get up from her fifth fall that afternoon, someone had sneezed. Loudly.

This had caused her to jump up and let out a shrill scream that had sent a few birds flying like their lives depended on it. This, in turn, made the hidden figure reveal themselves from behind one of the rocks beside the clearing. She was a young girl, probably Laganja’s age, with dark brown twin braids and an oversized flannel shirt that she had tied around her neck like a superhero cape.

The two girls had stood in complete silence for about ten seconds, just looking at each other, both of them sort of dumbfounded. Then the younger one had said: “How do you dance like that? It’s pretty… I mean- my name is A-“ Then she had sneezed again.

Laganja, not seeming impressed, had replied: “I’m pretty sure this is an invasion of privacy.” And turned her back on the girl. The other girl had then said “Wait! I’m Adore! I’m a year younger than you so you don’t know me from school, but I want you to know that what Harper and Emelie and Jacob and Fritz are saying is all bullshit! My mom, all of my friends, even Ben thinks so! And I’ve never heard him use a bad word! Not ever!”

This made Laganja turn around. She wasn’t exactly sure how she was going to deal with Adore, but somehow, she had to get rid of her. “Well then, you and Ben should learn to mind your own business and stop talking about things you know nothing about!”

“But-“

“I’ve heard enough! If you want to go pick on someone… pick someone else!”

Adore had taken a step back. “I didn’t come here to attack you or anything…”

“WELL, I’M FEELING VERY ATTACKED RIGHT NOW!!” That last part had come out maybe a little stronger than Laganja had originally intended. However, Adore hadn’t started crying like Laganja feared, instead something that sounded like a snort had escaped her throat.

“What’s so funny?”

“Sorry! It’s just that… You look like a really pretty princess… and you just shouted like that… those two don’t go together at all!”

Laganja had, in some weird way, wanted to feel insulted by Adore’s remark. But the fact that she apparently looked like a princess in the other girls eyes somehow made her face turn bright pink.

”I’m… pretty?”

The reply had come out quiet, like a whisper. Not that Adore had heard it, because she’d started sneezing again.

”Sorry! I think I’m allergic to something here. Maybe it’s the liverleaves?”

”Liver- Oh! You mean the hepatica?”

”Hepatiwhat?”

”The blue flowers!”

”Oh! They have more than one name? That’s cool! My mom always calls them liverleaves, though… I can’t wait to tell her about this! It’s awesome!”

”Well, they also have a latin name, Anemone Acutiloba.”

”Wow! You know so much! And you can dance like that, too? Maybe you are, like, a real princess!”

”Please, did you even watch me? I fell like five times!”

”Yeah, but you did that- that thing with your legs… it was so freaking cool!”

Laganja just let the conversation carry on. Partly because it was really hard to get Adore to shut up, but mostly because something about her made her feel… warm. It was like coming home to a place you didn’t recognize but had missed every day of your life. Eventually, they had sat down amongst the flowers, and their small talk had turned into an hour long conversation. Adore had started picking the hepatica leisurely sometime in, and as the sun turned from yellow to orange, she’d gathered a full bouquet.

”I want you to have this” She’d smiled at Laganja as she held it forward. “Because it looks like your eyes.”

Laganja hadn’t known what to say to the girl before her in that moment. She’d just smiled and graciously accepted her gift.

As they’d begun their walk back home and the lights of downtown had become visible from the treeline, Laganja had suddenly stopped Adore and asked: “Wait… What were you even doing spying on me in the first place?!”

Then it had been Adore’s turn to blush.

“I saw you dancing a few weeks ago… but I didn’t know how to talk to you! I was afraid you’d… well…”

“So you’ve just been… watching me dance?”

Adore hid her face in her hands. “I’m sorryyyyy~”

Then. Laganja had laughed. Loudly and genuinely for the first time in what felt like eons.

“Adore! I’m… I’m glad you like my dancing.”

Adore had looked up, her face still red.

“And I just want you to know, that you’re welcome into the woods with me… anytime.”

“Does that… make us friends?”

Laganja suddenly felt very dumb for never even having considered the possibility.

“I guess… I guess it does.”

Adore’s face had then proceeded to light up like a christmas tree.

“This… is… AWESOME!! I can’t wait to introduce you to everyone else! Joslyn and Trinity and Ben and Chris and Milk are all going to love you! And I have to take you to meet my mom! A-and aunt Tammie! And-“

“Woah! Slow down please! It might take some time for me to get ready to meet all of those people!! Also did you just say Milk?”

And from that relatively sunny day in the beginning of April and forward, Adore and Laganja remained friends. Even though both of their mothers had been less than happy about their disappearance together, and both of them had come down with hay fever later that week.

#rpdr fanfiction #laganja estranja #adore delano #alyssa edwards #plastique tiara #milk #joslyn fox #trinity k bonet #tammie brown #chris crocker #hunger games au #and so we run #traumathicc #shangela laquifa wadley #bendelacreme

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cranehusbands · 5 years

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Big old Apex Legends worldbuilding post

So, I’ve been thinking on my headcanons for the games and how they function from a ‘makes sense narratively but is similar to its gameplay’ standpoint for the past few days, and I think I’ve managed to pull some things together. So, bare with me - long post here. Feel free to use these as well, by the way!! I’m gonna be using them for future fic, as and when it will be released >:3 Also feel free to ignore these and call me a dipshit, whatever!! It’s a free world baeby! And of course, as more info about the world is released in game, I’ll be adjusting these accordingly, but for now. Here they are.

(Sorry if these are in a rlly odd order as well, I’m on mobile and am also very stupid)

Logistics

The games are used as a blood sport for entertainment, this much we know. But I’d like to thing it’s very heavily monetised and capitalised as an annual thing, with seasons taking place about a year apart and lasting over a good few months, games occurring around 2 weeks between to allow recovery of the players.

Qualifiying Rounds

The games that we play and see with the Legends we know and love are not the first games to be played. In fact, it’s a sort of Big Brother-esque set up in which there are a handful of televised qualifying rounds first to establish the Champions that will return for the Legends games, by winning their qualifying matches and then possibly being asked to return if the viewings on those games and fan response to them are high enough. These qualifying rounds do not have respawn technology - when you die, that’s it. It’s rare for a full squad to win, and that’s why it’s so easy to pick a Legend to return.

For character headcanons relating to this, I would say that Mirage, Wraith, Caustic and Bloodhound were solo champions. Pathfinder, Octane, Lifeline and Gibraltar all survived with a teammate intact, and Bangalore managed to survive with her full squad. Wattson was let in on a special case.

Squad Selection

Squad selection is based on a combination of fan voting and specialist selection by gamerunners. Legends may input and say who they may like to be paired with, but it is mostly out of their hands. Squads remain as such for the entire season, unless there are major complications.

Revival & Respawn

This one is a small one, but the needles used to revive your teammates contain an adrenaline-stimulating agent that acts very quickly and exits the body just as quick as to not cause harm, possibly by dissolving into the blood or through sweat. However, these needles are limited and are placed on a small belt that a Legend must carry on their person, similar to their banners.

The death boxes are not canon, as we’ve seen from the cinematic trailer, and instead banners are held on the inside of the arm. Upon death, competitors are reconstructed according to the data on their banner with aches and pains but no damages, and are to wait on the dropship circling the arena for their teammates below to place the banner into a beacon. From there, the dropship will fly to the beacon location and drop the corresponding competitors down. Beacons are shut down after one use, and two banners can be pinged in a beacon at once. While in the dropship, ‘dead’ players may communicate to their teammates below, but cannot see anything above a bird’s eye view.

Fandom

I really like the headcanons in this post, in which the Legends are considered celebrities and are regularly asked for interviews and treated as we see celebrities in the real world - paparazzi, invasive questions and all. Each Legend would have their own army of fans, and fans often have blogs dedicated to talking about the games (much like our own here on tumblr dot hell). If you don’t tag spoilers three anons will come and snipe you. There are a Lot of uncomfortable thirst posts. Almost everyone has seen at least one. There for sure has been one of those tumblr answer-esque things before.l

Outside of the Games

While the arena of King’s Canyon is used for the games, because of the annual nature of the competition - qualifiers and all, which do cost a lot of money - there is an extension externally for tourism, including a small shopping complex for merchandising (complete with a food court) and housing for those associated with the games, including gamerunners, arena engineers and workers, and of course, the competing Legends, with separate and permenant facilities for the champion legends away from those using temporary residence for the qualifying rounds for a few months each year.

Etiquette for the Legends outside of the games is to remain strictly professional with their co-workers/teammates/rivals, but who listens to a bunch of uptights in dusty suits, right?

#apex legends #hope op of that post dont mind me bouncing off theirs a little bit ;; ive been thinkin about it for days its so funny #feel free to rb this btw! in fact. You Will.#apex legends tag #dahl.txt #braincells tag

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liberons · 5 years

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* 〢 ✕ YOUR CHARACTER / IN 5 QUOTES.

TAGGED BY : @blutkrone thanks 4 enabling me i owe you my Life TAGGING : @humanwrath, @vengeborne, @plaguecrowned, @aemiliiu, @aquasent, @snowinabottle, @delicaterot—tho listen i went overboard it’s just supposed to be the quotes not the whole fucking metas but JHVJH go off if you want.

( i. ) ❝ the palms of his two black hands are red, / inflamed with binding up the sheaves of dead / hours that were once all glory ❞ —D.H. LAWRENCE, firelight & nightfall.

so this poem draws this sort of parallel between a man who sees darkness / night in himself, in contrast to the memory of the ‘queen’; in all her light and glory. and i feel like that’s pretty redundantly a damn good parallel to him & historia, and the end of uprising as a whole. there’s this queen of sunlight and hyacinths ( a flower with symbolical meaning often attributed to being given for remorse / regret, which is not only a common theme for levi, but also, i’m sure, a nice nod to the apology he never clearly gave historia for pushing her into this role ) . then of course there’s the nightfall side of the poem. the narrator goes on after describing the beauty of the queens to talk of how ‘he’ instead faces a grimmer atmosphere. a grey churchyard to symbolize the many lives already lost, and describes his sunsets as torn & red. so this all fits levi very nicely—but this particular line, before all of the reminiscing takes place, hits best of all. his hands are very much tainted beyond repair / covered in blood and swollen from reaping so many of his comrades. whenever he has a moment to spare, he sees them and recalls how they may symbolize moments of ‘glory and queens’, but in the end, he will always go back to remembering the darkness that looms with it.

and a lot of d.h. lawrence verses fall into my portrayal; but especially notable poems you can look at for any particular interest in levi are “ giorno dei morti ”, touching on him & death again, & “ the revolutionary ” , as well as this line from my old blog; which—while the poem in its entirely is worth a look for mood alone—isn’t quite as reminiscent of levi’s inner turmoil as the previous two; which i couldn’t even nitpick from because they were so applicable in their entirety.

( ii. ) ❝ my body is both weapon and wound, predator and prey. i will self-destruct without any help. ❞ —MEG HASTON, paperweight.

oof yeah just some good ol’ emphasis on levi’s strength being both the best & worst of him. he’s incredibly useful for humanity; it gives him a motive & raison d’être unlike any other—but at the same time, it leads him to his vicious tendencies. it drives his common resort to violence over other options of expression. he’s nothing but a weapon at this point. an object for the survey corps to use, and he’s more than aware of it. it slides into every aspect of his life: from his mentality to just keep moving forwards to his inability to imagine himself in a world where this isn’t the case anymore. it isn’t entirely translated that clearly here, but from what i remember of my friend telling me when the smartpass first came out, he essentially insinuates he had literally never thought about what he would do if humanity wins, and doesn’t take the time to think of that at all.

( iii. ) ❝ turn on the dark, / I’m afraid of the light. ❞ —SHEL SILVERSTEIN, batty.

this is actually such a cute fucking poem lmao but this line really resounds with levi. it fits a lot with the narrative i mentioned above on his inability to see the world / himself as anything but what it is in actuality. he’s always been dragged down to one dire fate or another, and the mere concept of things going smoothly just doesn’t resonate. he holds no dreams of marriage, settlement, friendship, love, etc. because that just isn’t how his world has ever been, neither by observation or experience. and when he’s exposed to it, i feel like it would genuinely shake him. while we see him being rather invasive of personal space and otherwise seemingly unaffected by physical affairs, levi still fails to hold any valuable, clear bonds to those around him.

( iv. ) ❝ will you coalesce / of dust and light and broken glass / who has to sweep / who has to patch the empty frame / who is going to fly back / to blue? ❞ —KAZIM ALI, ornithography.

the poem leads with the fabrication of the scene; detail of the softness in day’s light hitting the room, and how the scene outside can reflect the essence of the narrator in question, asking if [they] “are blue”, like as blue, as the sky. this hits particularly well with the line i have reblogged on my blog here, where the essence of the light from the window being brought in through tattered frames, that despite the glass’ wear & tear, isn’t broken. and thus begs the question of whether “you” are worthy of comparing yourself to this beauty, even if age has broken you otherwise. this poem specifically speaks to my view of levi in terms of impressionism, with a lot of aesthetic references through “filtered beauty”, for lack of a better term. he’s a sensual bastard, who literally comments on the prime of the world being the beauty outside the walls, seeing that past the titans and everything he’s faced there. the idea that he can see so much of it, but only through corrupted lens. and as the poem title implies, the references of birds—wings flying through twists and turns, trying to maneuver both themselves and others—evidently matches so much of the survey corps in general. hopefully that was enough to grasp why this final line really hits home. this idea of working alongside his “other birds” / the soldiers, past the shards & dust of their being, to keep themselves together and see who’s truly going to attain freedom in finding “blue”, or freely facing the beauty of the world in its sky.

( v. ) ❝ … make death proud to take us. ❞ —WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, antony & cleopatra.

this quote just really reflects levi’s way of encouraging his soldiers; and just really makes me think of the final moments in return to shiganshina. it’s really just a beautiful line to reflect everything he went through to get to that final point of accepting erwin’s death; from when he was adamant in telling erwin he’ll defeat the beast titan alone because the mission won’t be a complete failure so long as “he & eren return alive”. at this point, he’s still holding that disappointment in erwin for what he perceives as some form of deception from erwin’s original words of doing it for humanity vs the revelation of prioritizing his own dream with the basement. in shiganshina, he hears erwin speak bluntly again of his “deceit” while discussing his plan, though now he reveals that he actually plans on sacrificing himself, with the narrative point meant to focus on how this means he won’t be seeing the basement, shocking levi. and you see that deadpan disappointment again as erwin retells of how this dream clutches at him, but as he goes on to describe how he feels nothing but the eyes of his dead comrades watching him, it sinks in that all this talk some manifestation of his guilt, and we see a change in levi’s expression again as he finally realizes what exactly is going on here.

this back and forth disappointment that finishes with utter confidence in his perception of erwin and their partnership is incredibly reflective of this moment in shakespeare’s play to me. and as opposed to his earlier view of needing to keep erwin alive, even moments prior, levi’s quick to agree on his plan. this seeps into a lot of serumbowl back-and-forth, but the most prominent bit is giving erwin what levi now sees he deserves: a good, clean death. similar to cleo, he’s quick to get over his mourning and set off on his own possible call to hell; setting all their lives at risk such that, if they’re all going to die, they’ll make death proud to take them. in the end, he doesn’t simply tell erwin he’ll “do whatever”, or just parrot that he’ll kill the beast titan and simply “trust his judgement”. he makes it a point to command erwin to give up on his dream and die [honorably], alongside every recruit, rather than just sitting there and taking it. and i do think this lack of argument, this final understanding, plays into erwin’s final smile that i just have to point out because i already saved the screenshot i love one (1) bastard man.

#❛ ⍀ 𝟎 𝟎 𝟕 ．» ʷʳⁱᵗᵗᵉⁿ ᵇʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵘⁱˡᵗʸ ∕ hcs ．#long post /#and once again mar realizes she can't listen to instructions #i haven't written a single meta in months let me LIVE #im DEPRIVED #what do you MEAN i have to sit through 3 hours of human behaviour classes #and NOT go back to psychoanalyze my faves like any of this truly matters #and i had a bunch of quotes that i couldn't reblog but then i was like wow ?? expansion ??? on the ones i Could find ????? damn right

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loretranscripts · 5 years

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Lore Episode 13: Off the Path (Transcript) - 24th August 2015

tw: death, WWII

Disclaimer: This transcript is entirely non-profit and fan-made. All credit for this content goes to Aaron Mahnke, creator of Lore podcast. It is by a fan, for fans, and meant to make the content of the podcast more accessible to all. Also, there may be mistakes, despite rigorous re-reading on my part. Feel free to point them out, but please be nice!

Before we begin today’s episode, I wanted to let everyone know that I’ve added two new pages to the Lore website. First, I’ve posted a couple of upcoming live shows to a new live show page – the first show is in Portsmouth, New Hampshire on October 11th, followed by an afternoon show in New Haven, Connecticut on October 25th. I cannot tell you how excited I am to finally meet some of you, so, please, mark the date and come and see me. I also get asked a lot about show transcripts. My transcripts are full of historical references and footnotes, as well as links to relevant web pages and books. You can find out how to get the transcripts by visiting lorepodcast.com/transcripts. And one last thing – I’m also producing smaller, extra episodes of Lore. These are released on off-weeks, the weeks that Lore isn’t released through the podcast feed, and I post them to the Lore Patreon page. Supporters at the $5 or more level will have access to all of them – I’m just saying. And now, on with the show.

I’ve spent most of my life in the presence of troubled sports teams. Growing up in the Chicago area, I was always aware of how long the Cubs had gone without winning a World Series title. It was less a point of pain, and more a numb spot in the collective conscience of everyone around me. When I moved to Boston in the late 90s, I discovered a similar culture, this time centred around the Red Sox. Again, here was a team that had spent decades waiting; year after year, hope would be manufactured, and piled high in the cart of expectations, only to have that cart dumped on its side at the end of each season. Until 2004, that is – that was the year things changed. That was the year that brought the tower of hopelessness and doubt, a tower that took 86 years to construct – brick by brick, year after year – and brought it all crashing down. The wait was over. No, I don’t plan to talk about baseball today, but I do think the story of these teams, like the Cubs and the Red Sox, have something valuable to teach us about how our minds work, our ability to justify, to explain, to make sense of what seems so often to not make any sense at all; that’s what I find fascinating. Humans are so very good at finding reasons. Lurking behind the Red Sox’ 86 year wait like a shadow, and still hovering over the Cubs after 107 long years, are the excuses - more specifically, the curses. I mean, how else are we to explain such droughts, such logic-defying gaps in their score cards. Of course, both of these teams had to be cursed… right? But the bambino and billy-goat weren’t the first curses in history, and they were far from the last, and while some curses have been entertaining or even laughable, others have defied explanation long enough to make people wonder. In fact, some have even been deadly. I’m Aaron Mahnke, and this is Lore.

The word “curse” comes from the Old English word curs - just drop the “e” and you’ll have the root. The meaning isn’t actually very clear, but one of the uses of the Old English word is to denote a path or a route. Now, I’m not etymologist, but I think the word picture here is actually pretty clear: life is like a journey, sometimes we walk along the path of our choosing, and sometimes we’re pushed off and into the woods. It’s in those moments of chaos, of the unexpected and the unfortunate, that we feel like we’ve lost control. It’s as if someone, or something, has knocked us off the path we were travelling. In those moments, it might be appropriate to say that we’ve been cursed. The curse as a concept, though, has been around since the beginning of humanity. In the earliest examples, a curse was a punishment, handed out by a deity to misbehaving or devious human beings. The story of Adam and Eve in the Christian Bible is full of curses, dolled out after their disobedience to God’s instructions: hard physical work, painful childbirth, and expulsion from paradise are all described as curses. The Irish speak of curses as if they were something like birds. Once a curse is spoken aloud, they say it can float around a place until it finds its intended target. If the receiver wasn’t in the room, a curse could drift around for up to seven years. Not aimlessly, though – the curse was like a heat-seeking missile, waiting until the moment when the person would arrive. In Scandinavia, curses were more like bullets. A person might utter a curse at an enemy, but it could be turned back or returned to the speaker, where it would deal the effects of the curse on the speaker instead. Think Harry Potter wand duels, if you will. The Moors of the middle ages also had a very interesting tradition involving curses: it was said that if a man followed a prescribed set of rules and requirements, he was allowed to ask others to help him with something important. If, after jumping through all of the correct hoops, his request was still refused, a curse was said to descend upon all who refused him. Not a specific curse that he made up himself, but a general, social curse, as if tradition itself were punishing the unhelpful people. According to legend, the Celtic people of Europe used curses in a powerful way. If a tenant farmer was fired and evicted from the land that he had been working, he would quickly go and gather stones from all over the property. Then, he would put those stones in a lit fireplace, fall on his knees, and pray. What did he pray for, exactly? Well, they prayed that for as long as the stones remained unburnt, every possible curse would descend upon their landlords, his children, and all the generations after them. Then, rather than leaving the stones in the fireplace, where they could eventually become burnt, thus ending the curses, they would gather them up and scatter them all across the countryside. Curses have been there since the beginning, it seems, but over time, they have evolved to be more than just something you do to another person, as if they were weapons. Many of the stories that we tell on dark nights around campfires have more to do with the implications. You see, sometimes the horrible tragedies of life refuse to be explained away without the mention of a deadly curse.

When Prince Amedeo of Savoy told his father in 1867 that he planned to marry Maria Vittoria dal Pozzo, his father was enraged. Sure, she was of noble birth, but she was no princess, and she certainly wasn’t worthy of the son of a king. He was said to have cursed their union. On the morning of their wedding, Maria’s dressmaker committed suicide. Maria took the hint and found a different dress to wear. Later, as the bridal party made their way to the palace church in a grand procession, one of the military leaders fell of his horse and died right there, in the street. The wedding procession continued on, though, and finally reached the palace gates, only to find them shut. A quick inspection revealed the reason why: the gatekeeper was found in the gatehouse, lying in a pool of his own blood. The death toll continued, though. Immediately after the wedding, the best man shot himself in the head. The wedding party headed to the train station, perhaps in an effort to outrun the curse, but when they arrived, the man who had drafted their marriage contract had a brain haemorrhage and died on the spot. He was soon followed by the station master, who somehow got pulled under the royal train carriage, and was crushed to death. The king apparently saw a pattern and recalled the entire party to the palace. While they were leaving the train, though, one of the nobleman fell beneath the same train car. A medallion on his chest, most likely a gift from the king, was pushed through his skin, stabbing him in the heart. Maria was the final victim of the curse, they say. She died in childbirth at the age of 29.

Timur the Lame, or Tamerlane as he was known, was the great-great-grandson of Genghis Khan, taking the throne in 1369. He was a vicious Mongol warlord and was known for his bloody military campaigns. He often built pyramids after his victories – not with stone, mind you. No, he preferred to use the heads of the defeated army, sometimes tens of thousands of them. He died in 1405, and I imagine more than a few people were elated at the news. He was buried in an area that we now know as Uzbekistan, and a large, jade slab was placed over his tomb as a safeguard. The stone was inscribed with a word of warning: “When I arise from the grave”, it said, “the world will tremble”. Some reports say that another message referred to a great battle that would be unleashed should his grave ever be disturbed. You see where this is going, right? In 1941, Joseph Stalin sent a team of Soviet archaeologists to look for Timur’s tomb. When the local Uzbek elders heard of the search and planned excavation, they spoke out in protest. They made reference to an old book that made it clear just how bad of an idea it was to open the tomb. They spoke of a curse. They spoke, but no one listened. On June 21st, 1941, the tomb of Tamerlane was opened, and his skull was removed. The very next day, Hitler’s forces crossed into the Soviet Union, beginning the largest German military operation of World War II. In fact, if the Second World War had a great battle, this was it, hands down. The body of Tamerlane was studied for over a year while the Soviet Union was torn apart and destroyed by Hitler’s army. All told, the Soviet Union lost 26.6 million men and women to the invasion, more than any country in human history. It’s unclear why, but in November of 1942, the Soviets decided to return Timur’s body to the tomb, complete with a proper, Islamic burial. Days later, the German invasion was repelled at Stalingrad, finally pushing them back to the West, and marking a turning point in the war. A turning point, some say, that was caused by the curse.

The idea of the curse is common throughout folklore, and many popular stories use it as a plot device: the cursed spinning wheel of Sleeping Beauty, Snow White’s cursed apple, and the cursed brothers of the seven ravens all come to mind. But there’s another example in Irish tradition that tops them all, however obscure it might be. There’s an ancient Norse work called the King’s Mirror that tells a fascinating story about St. Patrick. Patrick, of course, was known for his work spreading Christianity throughout Ireland in the 5th century, but he apparently did not always meet with success on his travels. According to the account, St. Patrick once visited a clan that lived in the southern kingdom of Ireland called Ossory. Like any other visit, Patrick’s mission was to bring his message of Christianity to the people there, but it appears that he struck out. The King’s Mirror goes on to describe how the people of the clan made every effort they could to insult both Patrick and the God he represented. Patrick, to his credit, carried on and tried his best. He preached the same message he always did, and followed the same protocol, meeting with the clan in their place of assembly, but the people wouldn’t hear him out. Instead, they did something that might seem incredibly odd to our modern ears: they howled like wolves. It’s not that they laughed at him, and it happened to sound like howling; these people literally howled at St. Patrick. The reason was incredibly logical. The totem, or spirit animal for this clan, happened to be the wolf. To them, they were just responding to the message of an outside deity with the sounds of their own. Now, this was pretty unheard of for St. Patrick, and the fact that this event was recorded in a Norse history book highlights just how unusual it was. But even more unusual was Patrick’s response to this stubborn, insulting clan. Clearly upset, Patrick stopped speaking, and began to pray. It was said that he asked God to punish the people of the village for their stubbornness. He wasn’t specific, but he asked for some form of affliction that would be communal, that would carry on, through the generations, as a constant reminder of their disobedience. According to the story, God actually listened. It was said that the people of Ossory were forever cursed to become the very thing they worshipped - wolves. But this curse followed a very specific set of rules: every seven years, one couple from the village of Ossory would be transformed into a wolf. They would be stuck in this form day and night, year after year, until the next couple would take over, transforming into wolves themselves. Part of the curse was said to be how the people of Ossory maintained their human minds while in the form of a wolf. But although they thought and spoke as humans, they were equally bound to the cravings of their new form; specifically, the craving for human flesh. In this way, the curse affected everyone, from the man and woman transformed, to the people around them who lived in constant fear of being attacked. Ever since that day, so the legend goes, the people of Ossory have been cursed.

There’s media hype, and then there’s grasping at straws. For some people, declaring someone or something to be cursed adds an air of mystery and drama. It’s the sexy bit, and sex sells, right? For example, the Kennedy family story is sad and tragic, but when we add a dash of curse, we elevate it to near mythic proportions. Other people, though, really do believe. Either they’ve experienced the sting of unexplainable misfortune, or they’ve watched the lives of people around them crumble for no discernible reason. The human mind wants answers, it demands them, it seeks them out. People love story, but only the ones with closure, and that’s what curses offer us. At the end of the day, curses help us make sense of a thing, or person, or place, that seems to be haunted by misfortune. They act like a walking stick for people having a difficult time staying on the path. They help us make sense of life. I can imagine life in the 6th century in Ireland was incredibly difficult, and it would make sense that, eventually, someone would begin to tell stories that tried to explain the harshness of that life, stories about a curse, perhaps. When someone failed to return from battle or a hunting trip, or even travel between two villages, it was hard to not have all the answers. Stories about attacks from local werewolves certainly did their part in explaining these disappearances. But they were just stories, right? Gerald of Wales was a 12th century historian who recorded something interesting. He had been sent to Ireland by King Henry II to record the local history there. According to him, a local priest requested his company while he was visiting. This priest sat down and told Gerald an amazing tale. According to the report, he had been travelling near the western border of county Meath, close to what would have been ancient Ossory, and had camped for the night in the woods. That night, with his fire burning low, someone approached him from the darkness beyond the firelight, and spoke. Obviously, the priest was frightened – he thought that he had been alone, but the voice of a man called out to him with great urgency. The man spoke of his wife, who was sick at home. He was worried, and wondered if this man of God might come, and at least perform last rights for her. Reluctantly, the priest agreed. He gathered up his belongings and followed the voice into the woods. They travelled a short distance, until they came to a large, hollow tree. There, the priest noticed two frightening things. First, there was something, or someone, lying inside the tree, presumably the sick wife. Second, though, he realised that the voice was not coming from a man at all, but a wolf. He was taken aback. How, he asked the wolf, was he able to speak like a man? The wolf’s answer was simple: centuries before, he said, his people had been cursed by a travelling priest, forever doomed to become wolves. The priest prayed over the man’s wife, he tended her illness, and the couple was gone by morning, never to be seen again.

This episode of Lore was produced by me, Aaron Mahnke. You can learn more about me and this show over at lorepodcast.com, and be sure to follow along at Twitter, Facebook, Tumblr and Instagram @lorepodcast. This episode of Lore was made possible by you, listeners who deserve no curses. [Insert sponsor break]. Thanks for listening.

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