#moral of this very long story

[castshed]

I dunno if it's just the mental state talking or if maybe there's some truth behind what i've been thinking about since I got off work this morning....

But it truly feels like my time on this site might be more limited than I'd like it to be. Sure, there are some people that still seem like at least somewhat interested to entertain the thought or action of writing with me, but... the majority seeningly don't. Maybe it's my rules? Am I not lenient enough? Am I too weird 'cause of a simple lousy (kind of) fetish I have for taller women? I honestly don't get it.

I've been on this site consecutively for.... I have no idea how many years now. And sure, I've taken my breaks, some rather abruptly and unannounced, but they count... This feels different.

I usually have cycles where I want to do nothing but watch YouTube videos or tons of movies or start series' i've never gotten a chance to get to, or do nothing but play video games. But in the end I would always come back to writing.

Recently, I haven't wanted to do the latter. It just seems so... grueling, like a 9-5 job you don't wanna do but need to because it appeases some sort of agenda or just 'cause you have to pay bills on time and eat.

And trust me, I'm one of those people that doesn't see this site as a job, nor do I feel like writing is a chore. USUALLY.

But the lack of people's interest in things (idk if it's my muses-- me as a person) or the lack of reciprocation to things that take all but a few seconds to lift someone's spirits... has just really turned me off. (Not to mention broken notifications, the new dashboard - y'know all of Staff's TERRIBLE choices)

People also have jobs, I get it. Or school... kids, a life. This is truly something you do in your down time because you enjoy it and may have found the time to actually sit down and relax for once without the overbearing weight of other responsibilities holding you down - I just.. I honestly don't know anymore.

Now normally I wouldn't try and sound so much like a beggar or some kind of attention-seeking child, but is it so hard to send positivity in return sometimes? - Like I get that I may not be active 90% of the time lately, but at least I make the time and put in the effort to show that I care and still enjoy seeing actual people on my dash. - I always send it in and hardly get it back. And sure, maybe within the answer to my initial interaction there's something said. But that's more of a response than an actual attempted effort. At least, to me it is.

I also understand that I haven't been the best at replying to sent in memes, or asks in general, but that's because my muse has been at an all-time-low for ALL of my muses, save for like... ONE of my OCs (Sophie; though even now, I'll admit, she's kinda gone too.), and I get sick of staring at them, irritated that I can't muster up a SINGLE word to reply to any of them with... so eventually I delete them and hope to TRY from an empty slate.

I guess I just miss having that person or small group of people that I could count on all the time for things, regardless of our moods, what time of day it was, what we were doing -- etc. I've only ever been affiliated once, and... it probably wasn't the best choice. But the intentions at the time were nothing but good, and it wasn't heavily enforced, save for MAYBE a single ship, or two. Not having that security anymore just shakes things up too much and I guess it's one change that I could never get used to.

Regardless, the thoughts of this morning have me leaning toward either some kind of indefinite hiatus, or a massive reboot to start anew and maybe find a new place to settle. Those of you that want me around can keep me on discord and continue to chat with me there. But if not, and IF I do decide to go that route, I bid thee farewell and I hope for nothing but good luck in your future endeavors.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I know those eyes.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[thisisadonaldduckblognow]

all the rise boys get done dirty on characterization by fandom in different ways i think. (not ALL the time every fanwork etc etc these are just like, trends i tend to notice?) every fandom suffers from losing character nuance.

- leo i’ve talked about plenty on this blog, how some of his canon traits (genuine belief in his skill and cockiness, capacity for joy, his manipulativeness whether for good or ill) seem to get watered down or wiped off the board and supplemented with generic sad boy. his struggles with purpose and identity and not wanting to fail somehow morph into “he hates and completely holds no value for himself”

- donnie’s canon personality gets blurred out and largely replaced with whatever list of Neurodivergent Traits. and i think there’s such a fine line to walk between exploring a character that’s been word of god confirmed as on the spectrum and overwriting what’s canonically there. it’s a hard needle to thread. it also feels like a lot of his canon emotiveness gets left off the table for some reason. bc he does have his moments of flat/deadpan delivery, but a lot of the time he’s honestly very emotive. he has the passion of a theatre kid and the vindictiveness of... also a theatre kid. and the mind of a scientist.

- raph loses so much of his rowdy teen boy energy it’s kind of wild? like interpretations sand off that he’s also impulsive and can be reckless and dumb and LOVES fighting and roughhousing and isn’t the most eloquent person. suddenly there’s this pitch perfect soft boy big bro who would never hurt a fly and always says the exact right supportive thing and singlehandedly raised his 3 brothers (which simultaneously sands off all the nuance of splinter’s issues emotionally connecting with his sons and how that affected all of them). and like i LOVE raph, he’s so full of love and care and anxiety, he clearly has learned to put a lot of work into being aware of his strength and size. but there’s a difference you know?

- mikey is like. where raph gets overparentified by fanon, mikey gets over “family therapist”-ed IMO. the impulsiveness, the goofiness, the powerful emotions including a VERY powerful temper, the flat-out dumb teen boy choices... they get ignored. suddenly there’s this only very sweet and earnest boy who has read a hundred psychology books and runs group family therapy weekly or something. he is crying in his room bc leo and raph are arguing about something. which is so. he IS very sweet and can be very earnest and is full of love! he HAS come in with his opinions and unsolicited advice a couple of times and life coached for the greater good. but there’s a difference between what he does in canon and the role he gets in fanon.

[phoenixcatch7]

Luo binghe dies.

The system offers the widowed husband resurrection, the ability to continue the world even after the 'true' story has ended. Because the world cannot exist without its protagonist, it comes to a halt. No time will pass until he is revived.

Sqq gets dragged through stories and universes by the system, trying to wrack up the 10,000 points needed. It takes a long time. Far too long. He plays too many roles, spends too years unable to truly settle, goes through so much it all starts to blur together.

Seeing this, an unsatisfying, boring ending without closure getting ever more likely as Sqq continues to fail to remember why he's doing it, the system releases lqg, sqh and the ghost of lbh from the stasis of their world and sends them after him. As the only one with any real understanding of the situation, sqh takes the lead. After chasing his footprints through a handful of worlds (that sqh can sort of recognise, and he adapts rapidly) they are finally find him. But he can't recognise them. He's seen too much, been too much, hidden himself away in more and more layers, not wanting to think if anything outside of the immediate problems. He can only recall the reason he set out in the vaguest terms, deflecting and outright interrupting when pressed.

So lbh manages to pull them into sqq's psyche.

From there, it's like a really big, five dimensional onion. Each role Sqq has taken solidified into another barrier between him and the worlds he was forced to live in and lose in rapid succession. Nothing, individually compared to the world of pidw, but added up they're quite the defence. Inside each layer is a false Sqq hidden in the crowd wearing someone else's face, and an item or location important to that version of him that'll take them through to the next layer.

Each time, they find another thread to the peak lord they lost. Another habit, or memory, or trivia comes back to life. It gets easier and easier to identify him no matter the body he wears. They share stories about him during rests, or moments of travel, to help the others identify him too. They kinda sorta maybe bond.

Then, finally, after a world of zombies and inter sect wars, they find a mimicry of qjp, and Sqq at the table. He's confused but delighted to see them. Even sqh gets hugged. He's shaken at their story, but over the moon at finally reaching 10k points and more than ready to return to reality.

Congratulations! The system says, and offers them their return to the real qjp, with the points needed to save lbh and with it, the world.

Lbhs eager hand on the yes button is clamped in a vice grip.

Sqh is looking at Sqq. Sqq furrows his brows in confusion.

Every transmigrator can see the system. As such, every version of Sqq can see the system.

However.

To the outside world, there is no system. There cannot be a system. To play their role, a transmigrator pretends to not have a system. They do not see a system, they do not hear it, there is nothing there. They play as a native.

This shen qingqiu cannot see the system.

He too is a role.

Lbh presses decline.

They search the house. Fake Sqq, User 002, lets them with mild befuddlement.

In the bedroom, over the bed, they find the rip.

There is a glowing city of glass, a thousand people of every shape and size on the streets. Thousand more race past in cars and buses and trains. By the nature of the dreams, their appearance does not stand out, and they've learned quick how to adapt from the crowd.

They have no clue how to identify him, but for the hundreds of variations they've met. They know his tics, his stance, the way he words his sentences. The way he frowns when confused. By now, they would know him blind and deaf - and they're going to need to.

They split up. They meet back up when the sun starts to go down. Cultivators can work without rest, and they're all highly levelled. They keep searching, unwilling to give up, but they've been doing it for a while, not wanting to pause at the last stretch. They're tired, stressed and jittery from the flashing neon lights and constant roaring sounds and unmoving smog.

A man walks past at 2 in the morning with a luo binghe phone case. A luo binghe key chain. A luo binghe lock screen identifiable from ten paces.

Airplane feels it would be justifiable to punch him.

But he recognises them on sight. Probably. He seems (entirely bro platonically) entranced by his xianxia husband, so it's hard to say.

Congratulations, congratulations congratulations! The system says. Good things should be said three times!

The man startles.

Ten thousand points, lqg says, grabbing him by the wrist. Let's go.

The system doesn't break them out this time. Instead, they treck back to his apartment, where his bedroom computer is the only light.

FIN, it says, and underneath a blinking cursor in an empty comment box.

In the computer, shen yuan says, with the certainty of a dreaming mind.

In the computer?

In the computer, he confirms, shoving sqh forward. The computer is the rip. Aight, sqh says, and reverse girl-from-the-ring's himself back to reality.

He lay on a bed. Looking up: a white, gauzy canopy hung overhead, with finely crafted perfume pouches hanging from the four corners. Looking down: he wore a green robe of an ancient style. Next to the pillow lay a paper fan. Looking to his left: three handsome young men, also in that ancient style.

The one closest to him burst into tears and kissed him full on the lips.

[nostalgia-tblr]

stopped reading a fic just there because it was insisting that thor & co went on many violent adventures pre-movies but of course left poor feeble loki behind cos he's a) feeble and b) blessed with a better understanding of imperialism than the rest, and there are a thousand other fics that also think this is obviously what happened but i think i may just have hit my limit on this one :\

[likeabxrdinflight]

tired of early 20-somethings acting like harry potter was never good or had no value in its day like shut the fuck up half of you weren't even there when it peaked

[cupophrogs]

Little Guys!

@8um8le The sillies went shopping and made a friend!

I made this in Adobe Illustrator, so it's a little wonky and not as detailed as I wanted to make it, but fuck it took three days it's fine LMAO

[gingermintpepper]

How’s Fields of Mistria? You mentioning it was the second time I heard of it, the first time being in passing, so I’m not too knowledgeable about the game.

AWWW THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING!!

Fields of Mistria is SUPER fun, since there's not much to do in it after you've completed the first year right now, I've dedicated myself to breeding and collecting all the seasonal variants of horses so I can name them after the four Horsemen of the Apocalypse!

I also named all my barns after metamorphised lovers in greek myth because I have exactly one thought running through my head at any given point in time (Currently there's Crocus Coop where I keep my (gorgeous wonderful lovely adorable ouugh I LOVE THEMMM!!) blue chickens

Cypress Barn where I keep my wonderful cows (who have been with me the longest and whom I cherish immensely! I'm not sure if Autumn cows are possible but I'm definitely aiming for a barn of all red and autumnal cows for obvious reasons)

Minthe Barn where I keep all of my other large animals like sheep, alpacas and my very first beloved Chiron (black and white) and Iris (brown with spots) (the foal is Rigel) 🥺

And Hyacinthus Barn where I have a collection of small animals like rabbits, capybaras and my PRIZED DUCKS LEDA (the pretty blue and green duckie) AND CYCNUS (the pure white duck meant to mimic a swan!!) Even though it's technically a coop, I mistakenly labelled it a barn when I was inputting the name and I never changed it LOL

My farm is also named after THE metamorphosized lover, Daphne herself, so it's called Laurel Farm

And I'm planning for my Seasonal Horse barn to be named after the poplar since I quite like Leuke's story and I think she's fitting of housing the horses that will be the steeds of War, Pestilence, Conquest and Famine :)

Bonus: My house is still small and eclectically decorated, but keeping in theme with my farm, I do hope to go for a flower/garden theme

<33

[lord-squiggletits]

Part of why I hate this fandom's take on Autobots vs Decepticons is ppl (mainly 'con fans honestly) who can't have any nuance of the situation whatsoever and love to write plots like "oh the humans are racist and abusive towards Cybertronians so this is how Megatron is right" no actually I don't think colonialism/imperialism and racism are justified so long as you can point the finger and say "they were the aggressors first" or "their hands are no cleaner than ours bc their society sucks too" sorry. Please come up with better sociopolitical narratives in your war story.

[genericpuff]

welp, i finished the Dawntrial MSQ last night

it was

uh.

i actually enjoyed a lot of the things people were complaining about in the beginning, because while i could understand their criticisms, to me its flaws felt like something it would grow past as it was establishing a new foundation for a new story, which was what was promised to us, and obviously that's gonna require slowing down the pacing and lowering the stakes, which is fine!

but then the second half of the MSQ hit and i just-

on paper it should have been amazing

on paper i should have fucking loved it

but in execution, i stg trying to finish the lvl 98-100 MSQ took years off my life, even tho the majority of them took me a single night to beat, it still felt like it both overstayed its welcome and also did way too little with what it was trying to present us with

i know this is vagueposting because i don't wanna spoil, but man. "divisive" is definitely a word to describe the Dawntrail MSQ with, especially considering how many people were telling me "it gets better in the second half!" and again, I thought the first half of it wasn't as bad as people were saying, so I was HYPED for the second half, and instead I was brutally disappointed by what I got instead u.u

that said, the dungeon and trial gameplay mechanics are great, when the expansion remembers that it is in fact a video game it does it really well, it's just unfortunately not often enough for it to make up for the sloggy pacing of the story

the music is a bop, there are a couple tracks that i was a little eeeh on because they just felt really saccharine in a way that just clashed entirely with the tone of XIV and made me want to throw my headphones in the garbage, but the majority of the soundtrack was otherwise really well done, soken was really channelling his inner david wise here with the donkey kong vibes LOL but there are some somber tracks that are great too, there's a lot of range here in the soundtrack that should be appreciated despite the odd cringe track

environment design was solid, there were some zones that were questionable in their design because some of them felt pitifully empty despite promising bustling populations (looking at you, Tuliyollal and Solution Nine >:x)

but man , the last zone was brutal and that sucks because again, on paper, the concept SHOULD have been awesome, but ultimately it's still relying on the exact same plot devices in the past (insert lost civilization whose previous inhabitants/rulers are hellbent on keeping it alive even at the expense of current civilizations here) and the gameplay itself deadass forgot it's a game because there isn't a SINGLE instance of necessary combat or gameplay during all of it and so when the final quest (as per tradition, named "Dawntrail") finally pops up, it's like wait what ? that's it?? thankfully the last quest has both a dungeon and trial in it but it feels less like thought out design and more like the game devs remembering they had to actually include some gaming in their video game at the last minute LOL

i think the extra burden of directing FF XVI definitely caught up to Yoshi-P on this one, as well as the budgeting problems that still exist from COVID, and the fact that much of that budget clearly went to overall QOL changes like the graphics engine getting an almost complete rehaul (even in the previous expansions which is. a lot of work. like they want to re-texture ALL of the gear in this game and THAT'S A LOT, literally thousands of items!). where this expansion wins, it wins big, but those wins aren't enough to carry an overall lackluster experience that drags itself out way too fucking long for its own good. the story could have absolutely used a few more rounds in the writing room, if they couldn't afford more voice acted scenes then they should have simply just cut down on the amount of cutscenes, and i think the devs need to seriously ask themselves if the Trust system is worth dragging the Scions back into every adventure even when they have nothing to do (and it shows). like idk, just spitballing here, but the Trust system might be a good chance to re-introduce the GC squadrons, no? maybe go back to the roots a little bit and buff up the stuff that could still have a lot more life if given a chance?

anyways my experience with DT has been about a 6/10 and that score in the end will depend on how the patch quests go over the next couple years, I still prefer it over Stormblood (fr fuck SB lol) but it definitely feels like it's trying too hard to be like EW and ShB while missing what made EW and ShB so good in the first place (or acknowledging why its flaws were forgivable within the context of their respective designs, like yeah EW's pacing was iffy too but it at least had a lot more going on in it to justify it, DT is just grasping at straws by comparison). and in that sense it winds up being a lot more like ARR, where it's just kind of lost in what it's trying to do and creates a worse experience by the end. hopefully like with ARR back in the day the devs will figure out it's time to shake things up and try something new without using the old as a crutch.

[myimaginationplain]

Another thing about episode 8; I absolutely called Viktor being grateful to Singed for resurrecting him, & I'm glad that I did. I saw some people assuming that he'd be pissed off about it, but I think that's a misread of where Viktor is mentally atp. He's long past the point of wanting to die, & even longer past the point of being resigned to death; Viktor now has a goal, a mission all his own, & has all the spite in the world in his heart.

Singed has given him the necessary tools to see this mission through, just like he always has. That's just how their relationship is; Viktor rejects Singed's methods & ideologies, balks at then...but then he comes back around. Always. "I understand [it], now," Viktor said twice. Once in reference to keeping Rio in suspended animation, & again in response to Singed's disregard for humanity.

this is Singed & Viktor @ one another to me (especially on Singed's side of things) :

[specialagentartemis]

cannot believe this musical concept album gave me Real Feelings about a character from the Odyssey who appears, like, twice

[the-busy-ghost]

I have finally emptied the blue bench of all the library books I need to hand back, even though they were terribly photogenic in there, and instead have filled it with all the old children's books I've been keeping around for like fifteen years or more, even though the chances of me ever having children or even passing them on to nieces/nephews/cousins etc is vanishingly small. These are less photogenic but at least it's one way to start clearing the living room of boxes.

Currently strategising how to fit them all in but also wow this is a list of Problematic Children's Authors TM

[pettyprocrastination]

Idle Hands

Francisco Morales x Fem!Reader

My secret Santa gift for the ever lovely @floralpascal I do hope this follows your prompt well and that you enjoy it! Big thank you to @humanransome-note for being my editor+beta reader on this one at like 1 am lol. Also a huge thank you to @pedrostories for putting together this amazing event to begin with!!! <3

Summary: Frankie goes to you when he needs his clothes altered and each time has a revelation each time he sees you work. 

Warnings: fluff, light self doubt, lots of talk about hands I just really like hands okay. Friends to lovers babeyyyy

word count: 1.2k

________

     Frankie’s clothes never fit him right. 

     The sleeves of shirts hung just a touch too long on him, but going a size under meant they’d squeeze around the bulk of his shoulders in a way that made him worry it would tear (it did. On a first date, it was very embarrassing for him). Trousers either gaped at his waist or had to be rolled up at the cuff because they were made for somebody taller, not wider to properly fit his legs. 

     But he didn’t complain, it gave him a reason to see you. 

     “It’s because clothes used to be made for the body specifically.” You told him, needle in hand as you sat at a table and pushed it through the cuff of his pants. “Everything was tailor made to your measurements, but nowadays we just buy off the rack and hope it fits right.” 

     “Or we take it to our incredibly talented friend who hems our pants in return for dinner?” 

     Sometimes he hopes they don’t fit right, just so he can see you smile. 

     “Yeah, that’s always an option too.” 

     His mother has always told him that love was found in one’s hands. Holding the door open, taking their hand in yours when you crossed the street, the gentle cradling of their face when leaning in for a gentle kiss, it was everything. Small testimonies of love and care found in everyday moments that took root in the palms of a lover. 

     But Francisco's hands were scarred. His fingers were calloused from hard labor and would tremble until he curled them into fists and willed them to stop. They sweat horribly when he would get nervous, leading to him shoving his hands in his pockets and praying you never noticed. 

     If you did, you said nothing of it. 

     But his hands weren’t good for nothing, despite the fact he considered them too rough for handling gentle things like you and the way his fingers fumbled with his keys, he was still skilled. 

     It was his hands that put in the new lock on your door after a series of break-ins took place in your neighborhood. The same fingers that fumbled with your birthday present are nimble and quick with the screwdriver in hand as he reassures you that it’ll be alright. They're the same ones that held you the night you got stood up for a date and wiped the tears from your face as he told you any man who can’t show up for you isn’t worth your fucking time. The same hand that settles on the small of your back each time you walk through a crowd together, the gentle reminder of his presence when you felt everything else closing in. 

     I’m here. You're safe. 

     “These are new.”      “I’m sorry?” 

     You lift your head from your work table and hold up the pair of slacks in your hand he had brought for you to hem. All black with a fine finish, something you’d wear to a wedding. 

     The same pair he stared at in the store for fifteen minutes before finally biting the bullet.

     “The pants, I’ve never seen you wear them before.” 

     His hands curl, thumb pressing against the flat of his pointing finger until he hears a soft “pop” from the joint and moves to the next in hopes to keep his mind off the fact that your thumb is running along the inseam of one pant leg, a gentle back and forth, back and forth, that he’s not sure you even know you're doing it, but it's enough to make his lungs feel tight and head full of cotton. 

     “Right, they're uh, they're new.” 

     Middle finger. 

     Pop. 

     Ring finger. 

     Pop. 

     Pinkie. 

     Pop. 

     “They're real nice.” 

     “You think so?” 

     “You’ll look real sharp in those, Frankie. You got something special coming up?” You look beautiful. Your eyes are focused on your hands that weave the needle in and out of the fabric with such ease it reminds him of a conductor. There's something about it. The way your arm moves up and down, the gentle flick of your wrist when it pulls the needle through. Each separate movement that melts into one another like a connected dance. Maybe Frankie was just reading too much into it. Maybe it had just been far too fucking long since he went on a date and he was so starved he got to the point of romanticizing tailoring. Maybe he just really liked your hands. 

     Maybe, he just really liked you. 

     “Nothing in particular.” 

     You snip the end of the thread, tying it with quick flitting fingers before smiling at him over your shoulder. 

     “Well let me know when you do, I’d like to see you get all fancy.” 

     He scratches at the back of his neck. 

     “You just want a reason to get me out of my work clothes.” 

     There's a moment in every hug from Francisco Morales. From the moment you first met him to years later you can name it down to the very second it happens. A split second before he pulls away from you where his hand settles on your waist and curls in ever so slightly, squeezing you to his chest so softly that by the time you notice he’s already pulling away and telling you “have a good one.”

     It’s the moment you want to continue. For his hands to stay on your waist and keep him flush to your chest, where you’d finally find the bravery to mumble out those words you’ve kept locked away for the past four years because you don’t know what you’d do after there or. Or what he’d do. Christ, you don’t want to imagine it. 

     So instead you bite your tongue. You hold back the confession that’s been nested in the crevice of your ribs since you first met him and savor the feeling of his hands on your waist and the little “mmm.” he does every time you give him a hug that just makes you feel lightheaded.

     He’s halfway down the driveway when he stops in his tracks. Snipping something under his breath to himself before turning on his heel and pointing at you. 

     “Are you uh, are you free? This Friday?” 

     His hands were shaking. 

     “Yeah. Yeah, I’m free.” 

    So were yours. 

     “I was thinking we could get dinner. It’ll give me a reason to wear these, you know?”  He holds up the pair of pants in his hands and smiles. “Plus, I’ve been meaning to ask you out for a long time. I only have so many clothes for you to fix.” 

     Francisco learned that his hands were full of love. 

     His hands could pull out your chair, pour you wine with a steady grasp. They’ll gesture during conversation that seemed to last for hours and drape his coat around your shoulders in the night air.  Cradle your face when he kissed you goodnight and grip your waist when you pulled him in for another. They could hold you together and pull you apart all in the same night. 

     You saw the trembles in his fingertips without shame. Your lips pressed kiss after kiss to the rough skin of his palm without flinching and wrapped your hands with his each time you saw the world closing in on him, refusing to let go or be pushed away. 

     You saw his hands for what they were. An extension of the man they belonged to. One with scars and tremors that wouldn’t go away no matter how hard he tried to hide them. 

     But you held him nonetheless.

[alligaytorswamp]

oh not to be shady on main but user makedemonade is a transphobe!

i have known this person for 10 years, and supported her for a long while, and now i know that after our friendship ended a year ago she is back to being an active artist, even making commissions and ychs... i just don't think any decent person should ever support her ^_^ she isn't active here anymore, but lurks around on deviantart and posts a comic on webtoon!

[igneouswyvern]

one of the things i love about zestiria is that it's not a classic chosen one story. they set it up like it is one in the beginning with the legends but in reality the only requirement is that the shepherd have high resonance so he can communicate with lailah and form the pact. there's no destiny there's no "chosen by the gods" it's just about being able to see seraphim. really the only thing that makes sorey special is that he grew up around seraphim instead of humans

and even further, the role of the shepherd isn't something you have to take. it's not "a calling" it's a choice. lailah makes a point of confirming with sorey that this really is something he wants to do. he could have refused if he wanted to and i think that's really interesting cause you see a lot of destiny stuff where the protagonist has to take it on and zestiria is really refreshing in that way

i really hate destiny type shit in my stories. and i love that zestiria doesn't do that