#once you get used to the depths it was just kind of a slog to map out the entire thing

[watermelinoe]

i think totk improved on botw in a lot of ways but i also still had the same issues w it that i did w botw and it had new issues as well (the inventory was a nightmare, armor upgrade reqs were ridiculous, too many collectible-based quests esp the fucking hudson signs)

but my biggest complaint was that even with a storyline that i personally found more interesting, there is just zero connection to it at all. botw and totk feel like revenge for skyward sword being so emotional, linear, and story-driven (iirc miyamoto was not happy with its direction and he and aonuma (?) were just undoing each other's work which is partly why the game suffers from repetition)

so now we get zero emotional attachment to anything that's going on except in cutscenes that aren't even required and have no visible impact on link in any way. hardly any of the sidequests feel meaningful, and the ones that could have been always seemed to fall short. the npcs seem weirdly chipper about the gloom spreading, the ground splitting open, and the earth levitating into the sky. many of them that should remember you just... don't, for some reason, like there's so little development in any of link's relationships with any of these people, zelda included, as if he hasn't even existed for the past eight years between games, like what was with the hateno village retconning

my personal favorite quests were awakening the fairy fountains (felt like classic zelda and i liked that it made a permanent impact on the world, even rewarding you with a permanent new rendition of epona's song at every stable), giving all the bubbul gems to koltin (you have to go out of your way to talk to his brother kilton to get the full kinda bittersweet ending and it's a rare touching moment imo), and the balloon thing with rhondson and hudson's daughter (i liked that it actually expanded on a questline from botw and it was also bittersweet), also i liked penn and the newspaper questline

the biggest improvement imo was the shrines, the puzzles were so much more interesting with so many possible solutions, and the temples/bosses were so much better than the divine beasts and stupid scourges

but idk i just... feel like i wanted more from it. to me the story is just as important as the gameplay and tbh in both games link feels so detached from the plot, like it's just happening around him, not to him. and you can argue that in the older games they didn't explore his emotional state or w/e but the narratives were tight enough that you felt immersed anyway, and could project your own feelings onto him. these games actively thwart your attempts to humanize the silent protagonist bc he's more emotional about fucking cooking than about being manipulated by a creepy puppet of the woman he's been with for 8+ years at this point (should've made puppet zelda a boss again smh) or seeing memories of people dying horribly

all of which is too far spaced out between, idk, grinding for lionel parts

with the world as big as it is, nothing in it is allowed to be too big and i'm concerned that this is just what zelda games are going to be like from now on. i hope the next project announced will be something completely different.

[13eyond13]

For book ask game, no. 13, 14, 18, 25, 26. Thx :D

Ooh thanks for sending me more book asks!

13. Name a book with a really bad movie/tv adaptation:

Watchmen (2009) by Zack Snyder was a pretty mediocre adaptation of the graphic novel by Alan Moore, from what I remember of both of them (haven't revisited either of them in a long time, but distinctly remember having this opinion back when I first read it... like oh ok, so THIS is what it's actually supposed to be like).

I feel like as a director Zack Snyder is very good at creating epic movie trailer moments or music videos with stylish visuals (this trailer for it looked pretty exciting to me at the time it was new):

BUT then once you go to the theater and try to sit through one of his movies they usually just end up being just the most soulless drawn-out superficial and boring stuff, like watching a 3 hour long commercial. From what I remember a lot of the creative and innovative storytelling and the depth in the original Watchmen comic comes entirely from how it is presented to the reader on the page, too (with stuff like the layout of the panels and the stories-within-stories "Black Freighter" chapters that were cut out of the film entirely that cleverly parallel the present-day action, etc). Definitely recommend reading the graphic novel over watching this movie!

14. Name a book where the movie/tv adaptation is better than the original: Requiem for a Dream (2000) was a better experience as a crazy edgy depressing movie than it was as a novel by Hubert Selby Jr. to me:

I first saw this movie without having any idea what to expect when I was about 16, and even though it's pretty shocking in parts and upsetting to watch I remember really loving it back then and thinking of it as one of my favourite films at the time (I think I had a higher tolerance for certain kinds of edgelord stuff in my stories back in those days sometimes too, haha). This movie has always felt bit like a comic or a live action horror cartoon to me somehow? I think that it kinda goes too far a bit and nearly verges on comedy instead of tragedy at the end due to just how absurd and nightmarish it gets, but perhaps that almost unbelievable heightenedness of it all is kind of why it often feels a bit like a comic or a cartoon to me, too. And I still think there's quite a bit here to enjoy even despite the edginess as well. I think the acting is often very good, the soundtrack and the sound effects and the stylish visuals are great, and that the whole thing effectively creates a lot of very strong emotions like tension and dread and tenderness and wistfulness and loneliness and horror. It's maybe the only Darren Aronofsky film I actually like?

HOWEVER whenever I read the book that it was based on a few years ago I could barely get past the stylistic choices of the writer to enjoy what was being said (he wrote it in the 70s in sort of a dated stream-of-consciousness type writing style without many paragraph breaks or any quotation marks for separating the dialogue or the inner monologue from the prose, which I just found really annoying and off-putting to read). And the part about the book I liked the best, which was the colourful and extremely memorable dialogue and the slang that the characters use, was taken almost verbatim from the book and brought to life well on the screen too, so the whole time I was reading it I was just wanting to hear it said by the movie characters again instead. idk, I think it's a movie I'd definitely watch again sometime, but not a book I'd ever read again. Just more entertaining and less of a slog that way.

18. Which character from a book is the most like you?

Oh, very good question! Hmm... there are certain characters I relate to a lot for various reasons, but i don't know if anybody would say I'm extremely like them, probably? Of the books I've read more recently I feel like I'm sort of a bit of a Frodo character or something, maybe... his personality and his peaceful lifestyle before he gets sent on his adventure just feel very much like how I'd probably be living and socializing with everybody in the Shire myself, and the way he handles stuff like the burden of the ring on him and his reasons for doing things and how he worries about his friends who insist on sticking by his side and acts sort of secretive and more reserved feels relatable to me as well.

25. If you could be a character from a book for just one day who would you be and why? (Bonus: any specific day in the story?)

I want to be Wilbur the pig from Charlotte's Web getting a buttermilk bath and then eating the trough full of leftovers he gets (as a kid I remember thinking the lengthy descriptions of all the table scraps he was eating sounded really good for some reason, and the buttermilk bath sounded delicious to me as well lol).

26. If you could be a character from a book for their entire life who would you be and why?

I think it'd be pretty fun to be Lestat from the Vampire Chronicles because from what I remember he never feels guilty or angsty about much for too long, and he just knows how to have a good time no matter what. Even when he gets super bored or super depressed and then goes catatonic for a while he always eventually manages to bounce back and find something or someone new and interesting to get enthusiastic about and involved with again. He experiences things deeply and in an open-minded way while still never getting too burnt out by it or jaded about it either. If ever I were cursed to become immortal then I think his is the kind of personality that would make it the most enjoyable, anyway.

[bookish asks]

[homenecromancer]

going to a party tomorrow

had a whole cute outfit planned but turns out it is a pajama party… im just gonna show up in the cute outfit and then change, lmao

after spending the entirety of my 20s dressing blandly masculine — like, the nicest i ever dressed was “job interview suit”, and usually if i leave the house it’s for work, so that’s “collared uniform shirt + cargo pants”, and that was pretty much it for a whole decade of my life — suddenly having the Time To Be Pretty urge reawaken has been, admittedly, unsettling, because i thought i had the gender thing all figured out

but whatever. i’ve been a depressed, anxious burnout for at least a few years now. if “i want a lacy goth skirt that i can twirl around in” is how my brain begins to relearn how to Want Things, then fuck it, we’re rerunning my high school dress sense

(there are, literally, only a handful of photos showing even fragments of how i dressed in high school, but there were more than a few flowy ankle-length skirts + collared shirts with ties [i find it humorous that as a femme high schooler i frequently wore ties, but during the masc twenties, i think i wore a tie like… maybe twice]. and also sometimes miniskirts with thigh-high stockings. when you follow my blog, you sign up to hear about this shit)

i don’t have the wherewithal to sit down and really analyze my whole gender journey in depth while im at work right now, but the thumbnail sketch is like.

up until i was in my late teens i didn’t really realize other people viewed me as having a gender. then i spent a few months testing out whether i felt better being addressed masc. then i spent a few years slogging towards medical transition and fighting like hell to have people address me by a masculine name/pronouns. fast forward to my hysterectomy last year, and i slowly began to realize a couple of things:

1. i no longer care if strangers use the “wrong” pronouns for me, and actually kind of get a kick out of it — even clean-shaven i have dark beard shadow, and in my work clothes i have a very boxy figure, but people taking a glance at All That and assuming “oh — she/her” without me opening my mouth does feel, like. gender. (tbf my body language leans fem, i’m on the short side, and my voice is relatively high-pitched — i suppose i am “clockable” i guess).

2. the things i found most inconvenient/dysphoria-inducing about my relatively brief experience with life after my first puberty (and before medical transition) were, like: having visible tits; getting a period. neither of which apply to me anymore. and now that they don’t, i don’t really… have… dysphoria anymore, not the way i once did. having facial hair is annoying but like. maybe i’ll do laser / electrolysis about it sometime

3. (and this didn’t click until this past spring) haha skirt go spinny

[tiredspacedragon]

BIONICLE Retrospective

2002: The Bohrok Swarms

Part 1.3: Into the Nest

Y'all ready for some original content?

So this is Into the Nest. Not to be confused with Into the Nest, a mini promotional comic covering the fight between the Toa and the Bahrag. Totally different.

All things considered, this issue is kind of a big deal. To Trap a Tahnok was a fun little side adventure, but now we're getting back into the main plot. The Krana are collected, Lewa is freed, and the Toa begin their descent into the Bohrok nest to end this conflict once and for all.

That said, last time I read this comic, I found it kind of a slog to get through. A side effect of much of 2002's media being somewhat repetitive is that it can make you lose appreciation for certain story beats you've seen a few too many times. Like okay, for example, this issue contains the Krana!Lewa vs. Onua fight, also known as "Onua Saves Lewa's Ass 3: There Will Be Trauma This Time." And this is a very important scene, it's the Lewa mind control episode everyone remembers and the only one that has lasting consequences throughout the story. But because I know this part so well, it was a little hard to appreciate it upon revisiting. I am here now to say my younger self has no idea what he was on about. This is the original version of this scene, the first way most people experienced it, and it's a banger. I do think the extended version in Beware the Bohrok does improve it by allowing the exchange to play out more slowly, but I don't think the comic version feels rushed at all. Maybe a little too easy, given how Krana!Lewa has been built up for two issues by now, but it's still a good moment, and seeing Lewa tear that little parasite off his own face is deeply satisfying.

The pacing in this issue, since I'm apparently focusing on that today, is pretty good overall, actually. Though if I have on complaint, it's the scene of Gali and Pohatu in what I believe are supposed to be the ruins of Po-Koro.

Not that this scene is bad by any means, Pohatu's line here about his people wanting their homes back is actually quite poignant. But it is rather brief, and it interrupts what I think would be a natural flow from the scene of Onua saving Lewa to the scene of the Toa entering the Bohrok nest. I think the point is to show the devastation the Bohrok have caused, and showcase the emotional component as well. This isn't just the destruction of wilderness, which is bad enough already, people have lost their homes. Locations the audience knows and may have grown attached to have been utterly destroyed. But if that was the point, I do think it misses the mark. Maybe if the scene was more obviously set in what used to be Po-Koro, or if there was some smaller detail to show how devastating this event has been to many people's lives. As is, I'm afraid it feels much more like waxing poetic about the horrors of war than showing a burnt child's toy, if you know what I mean.

But to get back to the good parts, the Toa's interactions as they descend into the tunnels are pretty interesting, as they continue to highlight relationships between the Toa that are less focused on down the line. Pohatu and Gali are again paired up here, showing a depth to their friendship seldom acknowledged elsewhere. The Lewa and Kopaka friendship I only noticed through this retrospective continues to shine. And at this point Tahu and Onua seem to be closest to each other. Or at least Tahu views Onua as his closest confidant, expressing to him both his doubts about Lewa and his plan to scout the Bohrok nest. Makes me think that Onua probably would have been Tahu's choice for his deputy at this point, had he been the official team leader at the time. Appropriate given how they were paired up on the cover of Triumph of the Toa and how Onua would go on to be written as Tahu's earliest supporter in Tale of the Toa. But yeah, lesser seen relationships, always nice to find.

And I do also have to give this issue points for its meme-worthy faces. This stuff is excellent. Oh, and also for the inclusion of the first look at the Exo-Toa armour and the Bahrag, of course, that's kind of important I guess. But mostly for the meme faces.

The Bahrag's introduction is actually really cool. They look very fearsome and menacing, and finally seeing the faces of the true power behind the Bohrok is very cool. Makuta in 2001 was an eldritch horror and now the Bahrag in 2002 are very dragonesque, it's a good progression. 'Kay thanks byeee~

Next up: What Lurks Below

[bitd]

outlast kind of makes my head spin. sorry im autistic and i am thinkng about it now but i fucking hate how badly it declined in quality like . outlast 1 was so fantastic as a game and miles upshur as a protaganist very much compels me. i enjoy how he never once is shitty to the variants on basis of them being variants and 100% of the just anger and upset he has is directed towards murkoff as it should be .       also he’s genuinely just really funny? his notes aren’t a slog to read through and i think the trager juice joke is good enough that whenever i’m streaming it i do open it to show everyone.

whistleblower is like. fine. i care about waylon because i am unfortunately bestowed with camerashipping fan and have been since i was 14/15 but its just sort of nothing. i don’t really enjoy frank he just kind of makes me feel weird and edide is also very uncomfortable as a character to the point where until i banked hard in another direction he was a huge trigger for me and hes kind of wrapped into it again for other reasons. i do think that whistleblower’s got merits w/ the way it handles blair + murkoff and i do like Some parts of it but my favourite part of it is genuinely the super ableist part exclusively because i think it’s fucking funny and i also like that simon is there because simon peacock is my best friend. it’s Fine.

2 is just so. it has more problems than merit whatsoever. i think due to my specific bullshit i’m equipped to speak on the st. sybil stuff and honestly it’s the only part of 2 i actually liked and that is just because it got stuff right. it however is very perplexing to me because i feel it’s handled incredibly well and the way that loutermilch is done is very interesting, it does do a very good job of showing blake’s trauma through his own eyes and i feel gets across a point without being gratuitous (though it almost was over that in an earlier draft, but i guess i can’t ding them for that). the school and the temple gate stuff just genuinely feel like they are written by completely different people and that’s very confusing to me. temple gate is also just fucking boring, all of its actual issues aside. it’s too big, and they fail to use that big space as an effective horror device. the school also further nullifies this by putting us in a smaller space and holding us there, and by making us feel much more trapped. blake’s only reason to stay in TG is lynn which while sweet is just. it’s not scary because he has autonomy in a way. i guess i could probably study him for that and for like, whether or not he really feels like he has autonomy in that situation (he failed jessica, he can’t fail lynn when that wound is fresh again) but i think from a game dev perspective it just really really fails to feel that way and people aren’t necessary playing a horror game for its story. i could talk in depth on all of the temple gate stuff but you know that gets really dicey really fast again due to my bullshit so. you know. 

i also kind of hate that in comparison to 1/wb, you need to read the murkoff account to understand what the fuck is going on in 2? and also have read every single note. without having 100% of the lore memorized you are just fully not going to understand 2 and that’s not... fun. at all. it is way scarier when you understand context and if they’d given us that then i feel like it would have been a bit better. but you should not have to read TMA and every document in 1/wb to figure out that blake is in the engine for the entirety out of ol2, ESPECIALLY because that is such a critical part of the plot. you need to know that the engine a) feeds on trauma and b) hurts people who don’t give it enough food very badly and c) forces you to relive trauma through your own lens in order to understand what the fuck is happening to blake. loutermilch is obviously not a tongue monster but that’s how blakes fears manifest. the reason we end up in the school during downtime is because the Downtime at temple gate is not traumatizing enough and the engine needs to dig up more bullshit. this is also why temple gate is more “realistic” because of all the time between the two. i would also argue it makes it more interesting as it makes blake a somewhat unreliable narrator and i personally Do!!! like blake a lot compared to miles and waylon because he is a deeply compelling protag to me. he isn’t as well spoken as either of them because he’s a cameraman (miles is a journalist and waylon’s in software dev), and he’s naturally not going to be as prepared for these horrors as a journalist who’s beat is murkoff or waylon who whistleblew after seeing that shit. like he’s interesting in that way insofar as he is a protag we haven’t seen before and his narration feels extremely different than either of those two’s even past being voice acted.

overall i think red barrels really failed the more of a budget they got. i hope trials manages to help them claw their way back into the light but i don’t really have high hopes because ol2 was so fucking disappointing other than the school section on all cylinders. i don’t even think i’d like the school section if not for (gestures). it handled everything else very unbiasedly poorly, it was incredibly shitty, and it wasn’t a fun game, it was a fucking slog

sources btw

[eienshi09]

Final FF3 Thoughts

I actually finished the game like, almost two weeks ago so these thoughts aren't as fresh as they normally are. Anyways, the DS remake of Final Fantasy III is alright. The story is a step backwards from Final Fantasy II and the pacing - both narratively and mechanically - is a little off. Additionally, I would warn that the final stretch of the game - especially the last dungeon (which is really 3 different dungeons strung together) - is a huge slog; and being unable to save during it really exacerbated the drag of it. But all that said, the core gameplay loop is solid and engaging. The Job System adds some depth and decision-making to the turn-based battle formula without being too micromanage-y, and it's fun enough playing around with your team composition despite the game's efforts to get in its own way. Although the random encounters rate isn't as bad as the previous two games and running from battle is a lot snappier, I would still only recommend the game with a way to fast-forward as some of the battle animations and transitions take a couple seconds longer than they need to.

While Final Fantasy II's story wasn't terribly deep, it at least opened dramatically with an invasion by the evil empire - immediately putting a name and face to the Bad GuysTM - and the story follows the exploits of our party of heroes as they prepare a resistance effort and mount a counterattack. Final Fantasy III, meanwhile, starts off with one of your party falling down a hole and getting told they have been chosen to fight against some nebulous encroaching darkness. In a vacuum, it's an alright hook to adventure as any, but taken within the series, it feels like it's an iteration of FFI without any of the dramatic or narrative development of FFII.

And to be clear, I'm not even against a pulpy adventure plot. But the device of having the Actual Big Bad be some unreasoning primordial force controlling the one we thought was the Big Bad was overdone even in 1990; and FFIII unfortunately doesn't even explore the trope all that well. Xande had an understandable, if basic, motivation: he wanted to regain his immortality because he couldn't see that being mortal can be a gift. Unfortunately, the game doesn't really do much else with that theme of living forever as a curse. Even so, Xande's summoning the forces of DarknessTM to achieve his ends could have been done as a deal with the devil that he, in his hubris, thought he could control. But we don't really explore that either. Not that I'm exactly expecting some deep philosophical takes from this character or even series, but a little more than just handwaving away any agency Xande could have had over his fate as The Cloud of Darkness just taking control of Xande and being the ultimate pupper master over everything. A good example of how a little more could have really fleshed out some of the characters actually exists in FFXIV's Crystal Tower raids despite the changes made to many of the characters' backgrounds.

Even if that was all of the character and narrative development we get, it was kind of crammed into the last quarter or so of the game. The first half or so follows the party around as they journey to each of the 4 Crystals to gain the Crystals' powers all the while seeing the state of the world as it is under the thumb of the agents of Darkness. We don't even learn the name Xande until about a third of the way through, just before the going to the second Crystal. But then, once we have the Nautilus and go seek out Doga, the plot just takes off and dumps on us a lot of lore and background that could have been spaced out throughout earlier parts of the game. On top of the exposition, the game's final challenge is a slog of an endurance test. Though you can save after the Labyrinth of the Ancients, there's no place to do so anywhere in The Crystal Tower, Eureka, or World of Darkness. So even if you were to clear out the loot in Eureka and The Crystal Tower individually, you'd still have to run through all of the Tower and World of Darkness in one go, which is A Lot.

Though the acquisition of jobs was not as back-loaded, they could have been better parted out as well. The first six are gained after the tutorial dungeon. Then it's a fairly long stretch before the second and third batch, which are almost back-to-back. You barely have time to get used to the second batch of Jobs before the game hands you the third set. But after the Water Crystal, it's another long stretch until the last six Jobs are gained at the very end of the game. By which point, the only content left to use them in is the final dungeons of the game. The second and last batch of Jobs should have been moved up earlier into the game to give us more time to get familiar with them. Not only that, but spreading them out more evenly would have better filled in the novel content curve of the game.

Awkward pacing aside, however, the Job System is very well implemented here. The only real low point of the system is Job Adjustment Period, which only hindered experimentation without adding anything back to the game. Outside of that though, each Job at least has an interesting mechanic if not its own identity, which makes experimenting with the team composition and discovering some of the synergies between the various class mechanics quite fun in and of itself (refractory period between job changes notwithstanding). And although some Jobs are definitely more useful than others, the balance between each Job is pretty even and - with the sole exception of the Scholar - every Job felt good enough to use.

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Star-Crossed: Bound by Blood

Chapter One

Master List

Pairing: Mando/Din Djarin x OFC Baast’Mal

Warnings: I'm making this up as a go, Canon divergent from the series during chapter 13, mild violence

A/N: I make this stuff up as I go along, if I screw something Star Wars-y up, apologies in advance, I didn't do it on purpose, but I'm new to this Fandom. I will be cross posting this story between AO3 and Tumblr except the smutty bits. Those chapters will only be available to registered users on AO3. (I'm trying something new for people who want to read here on Tumblr, but to also avoid the smut for minors controversy. We'll see how it goes.)

*I do not have a tag list* Please follow the story on AO3 if you want email updates, or follow @tilltheendwilliwrite-library where I post the new/latest chapters of all my stories.

***

In the sweltering heat of the jungle, Din Djarin crouched to better scan for tracks in the rotting foliage at the base of the tall trees. Pools of light made it difficult to adjust correctly for the shadowy depths; add in the thermal activity of the plants and animals in this stinking sewer of a planet, and he was having a hard time tracking his quarry. 

When he'd accepted the puck, he hadn't known what he was getting into as her chain code was surprisingly sparse. The only additional information he had was her name - Taa Marel - her last known location and face. 

And what a face. Even on a holo, she was stunning, not that the Mandalorian would let that sway him one way or the other. 

He'd tracked the stolen ship from Bogano, where she'd initially been hiding out to this skug hole of a world that was made to torment men in beskar, causing them to swelter in their helmet.

The kid, however, loved the place. 

Constantly cooing, riding in his pouch, he touched everything he could get his chubby green fingers on. Leaves, flowers, bugs; those, of course, went straight in his mouth. By this point, Mando accepted the womp rat could and would eat just about anything.

Upon arrival, they'd found the ship nose down, destroyed, and abandoned, but the crash landing had created just enough space for Mando to set the Razor Crest down. Then the hunt began.

After three hours of slogging through the heat, he was ready to kill her. After four, he decided death was too good for someone who made him sweat this hard. After five, he was determined to make her suffer. But they were closing in. He could feel it like an ache in his bones.

Tracks led forward, but something didn't sit right with that. They were too obvious. After hours of following such a well-covered trail, this was an insult to his skills. Footprints led straight down a game trail like a beacon meant to lure him astray.

It wasn't right, too easy by far, and the skin on his nape crawled.

He looked up, straight into the eyes of the woman he was hunting. Even through the distorted colour of heat vision, he could see they were a vibrant green.

He moved on instinct, whipcord shooting out, wrapping around her shoulders, and dragging her out of the tree.

She screamed the battle cry of a hunting cat, an inhuman sound before she twisted mid-air and landed lightly, crouched but on her feet. 

"Taa Marel, I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold," he warned her, hand hovering over his blaster.

"That is not my name. And I choose option three."

Her voice kicked him in the groin and made his dick twitch. Stunned, he could only watch as her hands came up and nails like talons shredded his whipcord. 

Someone had left a few things out of her chain code.

"Put the child down."

Mando blinked. "Why would I do that?" 

What did she want with his foundling? Had she heard about him? Would she attempt to take him? 

"I intend to kick your ass, Mandalorian, but I do not hurt children. Put him down."

Surprised, Mando reached for the strap across his chest instead of his blaster. "You're not going to run?"

She lifted a proud chin. "You will continue to hunt me. I would rather die than return to that hell hole, but I will not go easy. I will fight."

She was beginning to impress him with more than just her face. 

Din lifted the strap over his head, his eyes fixed on the target, studying her outside of the holo he'd memorized. 

She stood with her chin raised, body slightly turned in a stance that bespoke proper training. If one could call it that, her green tunic had no sleeves, crossed over her breasts, tied just beneath them, and ended a few inches thereafter, baring the wealth of sun-darkened skin over tightly packed muscles. Pants hugged slim hips, billowed at her thighs, and tied tight to her calves thanks to the soft, short boots that went to her knee. 

Sweat gave her a sheen that made her glow, her vibrant eyes shadowed behind thick, long lashes. Her face was a treasure trove of sculpted brows, sharp nose, and high cheekbones over lips that looked like ripe fruit, begging for teeth. 

A mass of hair, the colour of sand, fell in heavy waves to her hips. It began to darken toward the tips until it was as black as the deepest corner of space.

As he moved the kid, she untied a thin cord from her wrist and slowly began to bind her hair in a low tail.

He'd never met a woman like her, a bounty like her, ever. This one - fugitive or not - had honour in her.

The kid cooed and waved. Her lips twitched into a smile as she winked and waved back.

"Fear not, Mandalorian. Should I kill you today, I will raise your foundling as my own."

Din's blood ran cold. "You won't get the chance."

He hung the child's satchel on a low tree knot and drew the beskar spear from his back in the same motion. Though he'd won the spear from magistrate Morgan Elsbeth on Corvus and helped the Jedi Ahsoka Tano defeat her forces, the Jedi held no answers when it came to the kid. Though, Din wondered if that had more to do with him than the little green monster. She'd told him to seek another Jedi, someone with more training than she, but had given him no direction in which to search.

"He is rather cute," she smirked. "But his kind age so slowly. You will be long dead before he is grown."

Mando paused. "You know of his kind?"

She arched a brow. "You do not?"

He lowered the spear and held up his off-hand. "I am tasked with returning him to his people."

Her posture never changed, but her eyes filled with sorrow. "He has no more people. The last of his kind, or what was thought to be the last, died some years ago. Master Yoda was his name."

"I'm to help him find the Jedi," Mando murmured.

Her eyes lost their sadness. "I cannot help you."

"Will not."

"They are one and the same," she whispered. 

Lightning fast, she rushed him. Mando barely blocked the first swipe of her claws before the second clanged off his pauldron. He used the spear's shaft to knock her back, even as she kicked him in the ribs, bypassing the beskar.

"Do you know the life you condemn me to, Mandalorian, if you return me to that horrible place?" she asked, crouched once again, a few feet away.

"You're a bounty. I don't make deals," he stated, watching his quarry while keeping his body between her and the kid. His ribs smarted, but he'd had worse.

"No. You just work for the people who Purged your planet!" she spat, leaping and clawing. 

She was fast, damn fast. Barely able to keep up, it was all Mando could do not to lose ground until he saw an opening and swept the butt of the spear at her leg.

She jumped back, breath coming hard.

"I didn't ask who the bounty was for." Greef Karga offered him the chance for a big payday, and right now, they could use it.

"You work for the Empire," she sneered. "Returning me to torture and experimentation. Do you think I was always like this!?" She stood and held out her arms, flexing fingers tipped in dark claws. She bared her teeth, revealing wicked-looking canines, then lifted a portion of hair to reveal a sharply pointed ear.

Again he paused, a thing unheard of, to ask, "What are you?" Her chain code said human, but she was certainly not that.

Her proud chin lifted in defiance. "Do you know what a Zentari is, Mandalorian?"

Din inhaled sharply. "That's not possible. They were wiped out."

"All but one. I am Baast'mal, last of the Zentari. The Empire took me as a child and used my gift to ruin me. They bound my blood to the Corellian Sand Panther and Manka Cat. They have so thoroughly defiled my biorhythms that if the constellations were kind enough to cross my path with that of my mate, I do not know if I could bond with him." Pain flickered across her features. "I am sullied, broken. I am a monster," she whispered before shaking herself free of the melancholia and raising that proud chin once more. "So kill me if you can, Mandalorian, for I will not go willingly."

The beskar spear fell from his fingers as Din dropped to a knee and bowed his head. "I am a Child of the Watch. I must offer aid, Zentari. This is the Way."

"The Way?" She took a step back. "The Mandalorians no longer follow the Old Ways. They no longer conceal their face from all but their riduur and ad. The creed is long dead."

He shook his head. "My Tribe is one of zealots. We hold to the old ways of Mandalore. I only recently learned of this as I was raised with them in hiding. The Purge took much, but the ways of the Zentari are remembered in the covert."

She hesitated, eyes wary. "I have faced Mandalorians before. They knew not the Way."

Din stripped his gloves from his hands and held them out, palms up as if catching water. He raised them above his head and brought them down over his helmet, appearing to another as if he washed with air. "Zentari of the Bright Star, may the constellations bless this warrior with a treasure greater than beskar that they would be mine. Cyar'ika. Ka'rta. Riduur."

She inhaled sharply. He watched her fight tears, lip trembling before she closed the distance between them and knelt. She dipped her fingers into his cupped palms as if they held water, brought them to her brow and stroked them down over her eyes and out along her cheeks. 

Her hands shook as she lifted them toward his helmet and laid her palms lightly on the sides of the beskar. 

His hands gently grasped her wrists, her skin warm and soft beneath his fingers. She wouldn't remove it, that he was sure of, but it was an instinct he couldn't deny when someone touched his helmet.

Her voice was whisper soft when she spoke. "Mandalorian, Holder of the Creed, blessed of the constellations. May you raise warriors strong in the Way and find your riduur. Your cyar'ika. Your ka'rta." 

"This is the Way," he murmured, shaken by the encounter.

"This is the Way," she agreed as she drew him forward until his helmet lightly kissed her brow.

The shudder that raced through her raced through him with equal intensity. The Zentari race was a myth, a legend, a beautiful dream. They were so lost to time Din felt like his heart would burst with joy. 

"Have you ever removed your helmet, Mando?" she asked softly.

The shortened form of address made his heart skip. "Not before any living thing." The Droid on Nevarro didn't count, and no matter what Bo'Katan said, the creed was his way. He would never show his face to any besides his wife or children. 

Let Koska scoff as she liked at his traditions. She had not found a Zentari. She likely wouldn't know what to do with the Zentari if she did.

Din rocked back on his toes and pushed to his feet, surprised when she followed him with equal grace. "Zentari, we should return to my ship. The Alor will want to meet you. The covert will rejoice."

"Baast."

He froze as her hands landed lightly on his beskar covered chest. "What?"

"To you, I am Baast." She stared into his visor as if able to see his eyes. 

"Baast," he murmured, wishing he could speak her name without the modulator.

"Yes, Din Djarin," she smiled. 

He still held her wrists, and his hands became her shackles. "How do you know that name?" he demanded.

Long lashes swept her cheeks, a coy smile curling her lips. "Grogu told me."

His grip tightened more. "Who is Grogu?" 

She tilted her head to look past him at the kid cooing at them. "He is Grogu."

"You can understand him?" Din asked, his shock registering even through the modulator. 

"Not in words, but he speaks to those who can listen. Images. Impressions. The Force is strong in him," she smiled at Grogu. "He loves you."

"He's okay." Mando was grateful for the helmet that hid his foolish grin.

"You fool no one," Baast chuckled. She gently twisted her wrists, reminding him of her bondage. 

He let her go and stepped back to pick up the spear. 

"You are a man blessed of beskar," she murmured. "You must be a great hunter."

"Something like that," he murmured. It still shamed him how he'd acquired his armour, but if he hadn't turned in the kid - Grogu - he wouldn't have been as well-equipped to get him back and keep him safe as they ran from the Empire.

Baast headed for Grogu, her smile growing as she lifted down his carrier and situated the baby against her chest. Grogu giggled and babbled something Mando didn't understand.

"Oh, I see," Baast chuckled, casting a side-eye his direction.

"What?" Mando muttered.

"Clan of the Mudhorn. A clan of two." She flicked her claws over his sigil. "I wondered. Grogu explained."

Mando glared at the kid- Grogu. "Don't tell her all my secrets."

Grogu cooed. Baast cuddled him and smiled slyly. By that look, he was pretty sure it was too late for his secrets.

He turned to go, heading back the way he'd come. It would take hours to return to the Razor Crest, and it was already getting dark. 

***

They didn't make it back to the ship before nightfall, but he found a hollow tree in which to spend the dark hours. Creeper vines had choked the life out of the behemoth, leaving them in a cage of vines and dry, dead bark with a wealth of firewood to choose from. 

The fire burned brightly, drafting well, casting shadows across Baast's face and keeping the larger predators at bay. She slept curled around Grogu, lips gently parted. The air had finally cooled at sundown, but now he could see the shivers and goosebumps developing on her flesh. 

Slowly, he leaned forward to remove the cape from his back. Then, just as quietly, he rose, rounded the fire, and draped it over her and Grogu. She stirred but didn't wake, and Din returned to his watch on the far side of the fire.

A Zentari. He could scarce believe it.

She was a myth made flesh—a beautiful dream. Once, when Mandalore still followed the old ways, Zentarus was where many warriors sought their mates, their most cherished riduur. 

A Zentari was always fast and strong and incredibly rare. They grew quickly but aged slowly, their years stretching out into eternity, some said. Fine in face and form, when they met their match, they bonded, taking on traits of the other and giving a few as well. 

A Mandalorian could live a very long time with a Zentari mate. 

But most Mandalorians came home empty-handed as a bond with a Zentari could not be forced, but those who the stars smiled upon, those most blessed with a cherished mate, bonded in ways that grew legends. It was said their children were the most incredible of warriors.

Baast'mal was everything he imagined when told stories of Zentari as a child new to the Tribe. It didn't hurt that she was the most mesh'la female he'd ever seen. Fast. Strong. Deadly. He wondered at what the Empire had done to her, how they could force the blood bonds on Sand Panthers and Manka cats, and just what other mutations they'd caused.

He also wondered at her Force sensitivity. What she felt or even what she could do had not been discussed, but Mando knew there was more to her than he had yet discovered. 

But it was the ache in him, the growing need to once again touch her skin that concerned him. 

It was primal. Feral. It clawed at him. It had him itching to be closer - much closer - to her. He wanted to show her his face and hope she found him as pleasing as he did her. 

Din had nothing to go by in comparison. He'd seen his reflection before, of course, but he had no way of knowing if a woman would think him handsome. He'd had encounters before, ones in which everyone walked away satisfied, some paid for, others freely offered, but the helmet and the beskar never came off.

With her, he wanted to be bare, stripped off all trappings. Din wanted to feel his naked skin against hers. He wanted to taste it.

"You are a very loud thinker," she mumbled, bright eyes glowing softly beyond the fire. 

Mortification filled him. "I'm sorry, I-"

"I do not know your thoughts, Mando," she clarified, "just feel a gentle buzzing from the beskar. It restricts what I pick up from you."

Relief almost had him sagging. Baast closed her eyes, but he was loath to let the conversation end. 

"How old are you?" She looked young, maybe twenty-five.

Her brow twitched, amusement in her smile. "It is rude to ask."

"I wondered how long the Empire had you," he explained. 

Shadows darkened her eyes. "Forty years."

"But they've only been around for thirty," he frowned.

She gave a hollow laugh and sat up. "They have been around much, much longer. I remember the day they came for us. They slaughtered all who fought, men and women. Every child they could catch was rounded up and taken away." She looked away, down at dark claws. "I was the only Zentari to survive the experiments."

"I'm sorry." He was. "I know what it's like to lose everything."

She tilted her head. "You were a foundling."

It wasn't a question, and Din didn't answer her.

"They began experimenting with my blood almost immediately. I was ten when they bound traits of the Manka to me. I was fifteen when they brought in the Panther."

"How? Why?"

Her eyes burned into his. "Because they could." She flexed her fingers. "Because they are depraved. Because they are monsters, who turn others into abominations."

"You're not."

She looked at him in surprise.

Din shifted until he stood and made his way around to her side, where he offered his hand. Baast took it and joined him in the shadows as he led her a few steps away from Grogu. He stripped his gloves from his hands, the need to touch her no longer under his control.

Slowly, he reached up to caress her cheek. He pushed her hair back, revealing the pointed tip of her ear. Her eyes gleamed from behind heavy lids when he stroked his fingers down her tricep and finally cupped her elbow.

He closed his opposite hand around her nape; his thumb pressed to her spiking pulse. "You are no monster."

"My blood is sullied."

"Perhaps. But you remain unbroken," he murmured. "You lived. You escaped. Mesh'la, you are a beacon of shining hope to my Tribe. If there is one Zentari, perhaps there are others."

She closed her eyes. "There is not."

"How do you know?"

A tear trickled down her cheek. "I felt the last die three years ago. It was what gave me the strength to escape."

"Mishuk gotal'u meshuroke, pako kyore," he murmured, rubbing his thumb on her pulse.

"Pressure makes gems; ease makes decay?" A small smile twitched her lips. "Am I a gem, Mando?"

"No." 

She arched an amused brow.

"You are something more precious than any gem," he murmured.

Colour dusted her cheeks. "A Mandalorian who has a way with words? I truly have seen it all," she teased.

He sighed and made sure it echoed through the modulator. "Get some rest." He attempted to move away, but she grabbed him by the belt.

"Stay."

"Baast?"

"Stay." She took his hand, led him closer to Grogu, encouraged him to sit against a fallen chunk of tree, and then curled up beside him, tucking herself under his arm.

"The beskar is too hard," he worried.

"No harder than a prison cell, and you are much warmer. I have not known the comfort of another since I was seven," she admitted.

He sighed again but gave in, curling his arm around her.

"Thank you for your cape."

"Hm."

Her chuckle was more of a low purr. When it rippled through him, Din swore he felt something inside him purr back.

Next Chapter

[wondereads]

Personal Review (03/06/22)

Geekerella by Ashley Poston

Why am I reviewing this book?

This book was a part of my Cinderella retelling ranking, which you can check out for some better books because you probably don't want to read this one.

Plot 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Super-fan Elle is horrified when the long-awaited reboot of her favorite show, Starfield, casts soap opera star Darien Freeman as the lead, Federation Prince Carmindor. However, that won't deter her from entering a cosplay contest where the prize, alongside meeting him, is two tickets to LA, which will take her away from her awful stepfamily.

Have you seen the movies A Cinderella Story and Starstruck? If you have, great! You don't need to read this book! I love my cliches, but there is a limit. This book (published in 2017, so there's really no excuse) takes all those overused teen movie tropes and shoves them into text format. It's honestly hard to read, and the portrayal of fan culture is severely outdated.

I will give it this: it is ultimately heartwarming and the lore for Starfield is way more in-depth than I would've expected. There's an actual script for the final episode at the back of the book, and there's even a fan-accepted viewing order for the episodes (different than airing order) that Elle gets fairly detailed about. However, I had to slog through a reused plot for a couple of okay bits, and it's really just not worth it.

Characters 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Elle seems nice, but she's also "not like other girls". The way she puts down other girls whose interests are "lesser" compared to hers is extremely annoying and honestly unnecessary. She rips into Darien's fans as though liking a cute teenage boy who plays a love interest in a soap opera is morally reprehensible, and fears they will "corrupt" her precious, more elevated sci-fi show. That's not even getting into how the stepsisters are so silly for liking makeup and being beauty bloggers because only the worst type of people could like those sorts of things according to this book.

Darien is...alright. He doesn't have any outright annoying traits like Elle, but he also doesn't have anything that stands out at all. His development is cookie cutter and predictable.

The only characters I really liked as characters were Elle's stepmother and one of her stepsisters, Cal. They were the only two characters who seemed like they had any depth and nuance to them. There was even a point where I thought the stepmother would get a redemption, but it was kind of just left open-ended.

Writing Style 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

The actual writing style of this book is mediocre. But the constant pop culture references are awful. Something contemporary authors can't seem to grasp is that no one forces references into their speech in everyday life. Using quotes from your favorite TV show for a meaningful moment with your significant other? Ok. Shoving Star Wars and Harry Potter references into every other sentence when an adjective would've done just fine? Not ok. No one says stuff like "you're looking worse than a Nox with space sickness" or whatever in real life! Especially not to someone who isn't a fan! It's just so awkward.

Overall 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

If I hadn't been reading this book for my ranking, I would've put it down a third of the way in. It exuded 2012 Tumblr vibes, and not in a good way, especially when it was published in 2017. The plot was horribly cliche, the main character constantly put down the women around her, and it was packed with clunky, awkward pop culture references. Save yourself some time and go watch Starstruck.

The Reviewer

My name is Wonderose; I try to post a review every two weeks, sometimes once a week, usually over vacations. I take recommendations! Check out my about me post for more!

[thetypedwriter]

Firekeeper’s Daughter Book Review

Disclaimer: Please keep in mind that all of my in-depth reviews contain spoilers. 

Firekeeper’s Daughter Book Review by Angeline Boulley 

Well, this book review came quicker than I thought it would (which after weeks since my last published review for an actual novel that may sound absurd, but I promise it isn’t). 

There’s a lot of great things about this book and a lot of really important representation, but I also found it to be an incredible slog to trudge through. 

Firekeeper's Daughter by Angeline Boulley is the story of a girl by the name of Daunis Fontaine who finds herself stuck between two worlds: her Fontaine side, also known as her zhaaganaash or white side, and her Native side, or known as her Anishinaabe side, or even more specifically, Ojibwe side. 

The debut novel from Boulley mainly describes Daunis’ struggle between these two worlds, the important people in them, and the war within herself to follow her heart, her gut, and her mind. 

In the background of this identity struggle, or perhaps largely influenced by it, Daunis finds herself inexplicably tangled up in a secret federal investigation into a specific type of meth being produced in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula that affects people not only in her community, but other Native communities as well. 

Suddenly finding herself becoming a spy, Daunis starts to learn and keep secrets, those in regards to the investigation as well as those regarding her feelings for fellow investigator-Jamie Johnson-an undercover narcotics cop posing as the cute new highschooler in town. 

As Daunis deals with her own internal struggles, her community, her relationships, and her burgeoning romance, her past, future, and present all collide and come to a head in this new novel. 

Now. Reading this summary, you might be thinking: this book sounds awesome! Love? Undercover cops? Drugs? Mystery? It has everything. 

And you’d be right. 

When I first read the jacket cover for this novel I knew it was a book I was inevitably going to read. Everything from the gorgeous cover art, to the intriguing summary, to the representation of Native Americans, I was completely drawn in. 

Too bad I didn’t like it very much. 

I will start off by saying that I think this book is incredible in its realistic depiction of the Ojibwe experience and I know how important it is to increase representation of all kinds of people and backgrounds in literature, especially YA literature. 

Boulley did an absolutely stunning job of relaying the nitty-gritty of the Ojibwe community-the elders, the geography, the food, the stigma, the finances, the politics, the reputation, the racism, the prejudice, the community, the love, the healing, and so much more. 

I always am in awe when authors utilize the golden rule of write what you know. Per the back jacket of the novel, Boulley herself states that she is an enrolled member of the Sault Ste. Marie Tribe of Chippewa Indians and an active storyteller of the Ojibwe community. 

This is beyond incredible. Having an accurate and active portrayal of people writing and drawing from their own experiences are powerful and significant. I could taste, feel, and see how clear and how real Boulley made the novel. 

I questioned a lot of things during this read, but the Ojibwe community in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula was not one of them. From vocabulary to the extreme details depicting Sugar Island to the care and craft when talking about specific ceremonies like funerals, Boulley did an outstanding job of bringing in what she knows from her own experience and that of her community in order to breathe life into these pages. 

This was by far the best part of the novel for me. 

On the back jacket, Boulley also states that she was a former Director of the Office of Indian Education at the U.S. Department of Education. While I did not know this until a few minutes ago when I sat down to write this review, I am in no way surprised. 

The book was extremely intelligent. I could viscerally tell that Boulley knows her stuff and does her research. Everything from biology and chemistry processes and vocabulary, to mushroom identification, to legal matters like having an underage informant, politics regarding becoming a member of the Ojibwe Tribe, and due process of the law regarding FBI cases was very clear cut, very detailed, and obviously very accurate. 

I appreciated how much time and effort was put into this, even if I did find a lot of it bone dry and dull, I still could appreciate the time, effort, and knowledge to make sure that everything in the novel was precise and correct. 

That being said, it also made the book come across almost like an informational pamphlet at times, or like I was reading non-fiction. I understand being accurate, and I applaud her for that, but I don’t need or want five pages of in-book description of how one of these processes work. Just give me the bare-bones outline and I will go from there and look it up more if I so desire. 

This brings me to my first critique of this book and a large reason it was so tedious to get through: it was mind-numbingly long. 

Now. I just read a 2,000 page fanfiction not that long ago. That is long, you could argue, and you would be right. But, none of All of the Young Dudes was a bore to get through (sad, sure, but not boring), whereas whole sections of Firekeeper’s Daughter were too dragged out and too explicitly explained that I inevitably got bored and nodded off. 

The pace was too slow and too bogged down with unimportant details, like Daunis’ daily visits to the elders or her overthinking every single thing, or her making lists of all the things she doesn’t know (these are long lists). 

She often spends whole pages grieving about her Uncle David as well as her best friend Lily, and while understandable and realistic in real life, it was not fun nor productive to read about over and over and over again. 

Take for example, the very beginning of the book. It takes over 100 pages for Daunis to realize the new-boy-next-door isn’t who he says he is and that he’s actually an undercover cop here to investigate a new strain of meth and asks for her help. 

Over 100 pages of set up. 

It was so goddamn boring. 

It got better once she became involved with the investigation, but then so did the whining, the overthinking, and the reflecting. The first 100 pages could have been condensed to 20. No joke, I would have gotten the same exposition out of that I did. 

In addition, despite things taking so long or not serving a purpose, I was often confused about what was happening, which is an overall unpleasant experience. Boulley simultaneously describes everything and yet nothing at the same time.

 The reason for this discrepancy is because she often used native language to describe feelings, events, people, etc and while some of the words I learned over time, often the words left me confused or bewildered. 

I appreciate the use of native language, but it also left me with big gaps while reading or made me struggle to put pieces together as they were happening. 

The pace of the novel overall was incredibly bad. Things either took 12 years or two minutes. The actual plot to show up? 12 Years. Daunis and Jamie to fall in love classic YA style? Two minutes. Daunis to find Uncle David’s notebook? 12 years. The final confrontation of the bad guys? Two minutes. 

With any event, it either felt sluggish or way too quick and mashing these two together in one novel was disorienting and frustrating, not to mention it made me not want to read. 

Additionally, while I generally thought the plot was very interesting, who doesn’t like undercover cop stories? I thought all of the characters were very forgettable or downright shells. 

Daunis was...a textbook female character in my eyes. The way she spouted off knowledge like the periodic table to fall asleep or reciting the scientific method wasn’t cool or new, it was irritating.

To me she wasn’t real. 

She was someone’s idea of a female character who seemed cool, but wasn’t. Nothing about Daunis made me think of her as a great character. If anything, she just seemed like an empty vessel I was reading the book through, like the book was happening to me instead (cough cough Mary Sue). 

Some of you may be upset with this statement, and that’s fine, but other than her love of science, her knowledge of geography, and her ties to the community, nothing about Daunis was a real person. 

She hardly had friends, I don’t recall learning anything she liked or disliked (other than Jamie, hockey, and running) , and she was entirely surmised of the people who had left her and the identity struggle she had been born with. I don’t mean to undermine people who struggle with their identity, I know that’s important, but there is more to people than just that. 

None of the other characters are frankly worth mentioning. 

You might ask, what about Jamie? The shadowy, scarred love interest?

*Shrugs*

He’s fine. Genuinely that’s all I can say about him. We don’t even learn his real name as Jamie Johnson is a fake. All I know is that he’s got curly hair, a scar, and doesn’t know who he is. It’s hard to like a character when the character themselves have no idea of who they are. 

The other characters either die or are in the background to progress the plot along. 

To be fair, it’s a good plot. It’s intriguing, it’s mysterious, and I learned more than I ever thought I would about meth and mushrooms, but it doesn’t make up for the dead-end characters or the pacing issues. 

I didn’t hate it, but I also didn’t like it. I guess I can say that I feel indifferent about this book, although the representation of Native Americans bumps it up slightly for me from being dead average. 

The storytelling isn’t spectacular, even if the idea is promising, but if you have been searching for representation like this in YA I can see how this book would be much more impactful and important and I’m happy to have it as a part of the YA collective. 

Recommendation: At the end of the day, this novel is a true smorgasbord. I love the representation, the draws from Boulley’s real life, and the intelligence, but I didn’t see any of the characters as real people, the pacing issues made it hard to gain and keep interest going, and the dialogue often came across to me as someone's warped version of what teenager’s sound like. 

Score: 6/10

[regrettablewritings]

How They Spend the Quarantine (Tadashi Hamada, Lucifer Morningstar, Dewey Finn, Wade Wilson, Harley Quinn, & Benoit Blanc)

Just a fun (?? is that even responsible to say?) little thing I’ve been thinking about while slogging through this neverending hellscape of an extended lockdown.

Tadashi Hamada

When San Fransokyo was ordered to go into a lockdown, there were mixed feelings.

At first, Tadashi had a hint of optimism that this would mean more time to work on his prospective projects . . . But then he quickly realized that his projects mostly required tools and space offered by the campus. He could technically make do at home, but it wouldn’t quite be the same considering the garage was considered Hiro’s space.

Somberly had to clean out his lab and take whatever he could home.

Cue the rest of the group (sans Fred and Hiro) griping that at least his style of science could travel well enough to be somewhat continued off of university grounds.

Helps do delivery for The Lucky Cat. It helps him get out the house, and it’s simply helpful altogether.

Uses Baymax frequently to make sure everyone down to Mochi is sanitized, and nobody’s running a fever.

Nearly as frequent a sanitizer as Aunt Cass.

He starts most days prepared to be productive, only to stop and poke fun at Hiro, who’s almost always got his eyes trained on a video game.

Tadashi realizes three hours later that he, too, has been playing the game as Player 2.

Learned how to make facial masks with Aunt Cass. He already knew how to sew a little but frankly, making the masks made him realize he could have a new hobby on his hands. He’s currently trying to figure out how to make Mochi a little vest . . .

Lucifer Morningstar

B o r e d. A s. F u c k.

At first, he thinks everyone being forced to go home would work in his favor -- surely some rule-breakers would sneak out and try to bunk up with the Devil, right?

Well . . . Kinda? Once Chloe found out and scolded him about it, the idea died real fast. Plus, he realized he wasn’t quite fond of the possibility of being around someone who could pop up with a disgusting human sickness at any point during their time with him. Smearing their snot all over, coughing into his Egyptian cotton sheets . . . Nope, never mind, he is perfectly content having the penthouse to himself, thank you very much!

Except he’s not.

The poor bastard is going crazy by himself -- he’s just not used to being without some kind of company!

“At least in Hell, you could tell there were people around you based on the screaming!” he’d whine at his phone during his hourly video chat with Chloe.

Oh yes: The video chats. He tries to make them hourly with anyone he can get a hold of (namely, his long-suffering detective) but this clearly never plays out as he would like for it to: If he had it his way, everyone would respond in an instant and let him bounce mainly one-sided conversations off of them -- basically, what he did before all this went down.

What usually winds up happening is he gets hung up on or nobody answers him at all out of sheer annoyance over his clinginess.

Ironically, he’s not exactly crazy about when Amenadiel initiates those “family calls”. He insists it’s healthy and normal for them to do this and even calls Luci out on the hypocrisy, but let’s face it: Lucifer finds it obnoxiously gushy and weird.

He works his way into Linda’s video appointment books to help him cope with his boredom and admitted need for interactions. She doesn’t mind offering him counsel, but once Lucifer starts attempting to butt in during others’ appointment calls, it becomes an issue.

Has, at some point, gotten buzzed down in Lux and streamed himself attempting to pole dance. It drew quite a bit of attention.

He’s managed to gain a bit of a following and some companionship by streaming himself playing piano and singing. It’s not the same thing as having an actual audience, in his opinion, but it will have to do for now.

He’s never been one to binge with regards to TV shows or movies, but after the first week, he decided to binge watch every work action star Wesley Cabot was ever in.

Makes sure his staff still gets paid well. After all, he’s pretty well-off; there’s no need to make an innocent bartender’s life a living hell just because some other rich bastard fucked up, yeah?

Going off this, should he need to order to-go or anything, we already know he tends to tip as handsomely as he looks.

Dewey Finn

Kids were being sent to Horace Green on tuitions worth more than what some people saw in half a year -- of course the school was going to continue classes online!

While technically an afterschool instructor, the program is popular enough for parents to expect it to continue, and for Dewey to be kept on payroll.

Initially, he was pretty smug: He’s one if, if not, the youngest teacher-figure at Horace Green, so surely that means he’s more tech savvy than his older, stiffer coworkers, right? For once, he’s ahead of the curve!

Wrong: Figuring out Zoom was a headache, and then there was the realization of just how dependent his classes were on actual physical presence.

Plus, let’s be real: Dewey’s Internet connection was decent on its own, but craptastic when compared to those of his wealthier students. The lag is strong with this one.

Has definitely accidentally messed up the background on his screen. Somehow wound up with the Beetlejuice background and got so frustrated, he wound up keeping it there for two whole sessions.

In spite of the slight issues regarding lag, they pull through and try to resume lessons as best they can.

Tries to keep optimism by pointing out how this is a new form of entertainment they could be pioneers in.

Some days, it’s just going so wack or everyone’s so bleh that Dewey just assigns for them to watch a music documentary or something.

“Okay, kids, Mr. Finn’s hungover and clearly Summer is the only one who went to bed before 3am. So what I’m gonna have you do is watch . . . Prrrbbbb . . . Amadeus.” “How is Amadeus rock-related?” “It had a rock single, shut up. Anyway, we meet back next class and talk about what we saw, m’kay? M’kay. Over and out.”

Next class, he’s filled with dread as Summer produces an in-depth analysis of the relationship or lack thereof between character and the presence of talent as evidenced by Mozart’s abilities juxtaposed with his immature presentation and -- Dewey just can’t keep up. Sure, Summer, why not?

When he’s not busy teaching, however, he’s using the lockdown to work on some new material. Or just screwing around.

Otherwise, let’s be real, Big Boy’s living the high life in a place of his own: Playing video games (Animal Crossing, recently got back into Team Fortress 2, is trying to finally finish Ocarina of Time); eating a not very great diet; staying up late, napping at weird times; all in the name of quarantine.

If he orders delivery or to-go, he tips the best he can.

Wade Wilson

On one hand, murking never goes on lockdown. But on the other . . . He’s already technically not well, why risk that even with his mutation?

Oh, fuck I just remembered he lives at the X Mansion, never mind turn back turn back oh god give us free --

The situation is tense to say the least. There’s Wade, who’s sensible enough to know why the quarantine is in place . . . and then there’s everyone else, who knows Wade’s full of shit.

And by everyone, I “coincidentally” mean Colossus, Nega Sonic, Yukio, Domino, Cable, and Russ because the already small world of the sequel just got smaller by the fact that everyone is bound to a large but nonetheless single estate whose size has probably decreased from that of the First Class timeline.

You know those videos of the usual Quarantine Characters? Wade is somehow yet still unsurprisingly all of them, save for the frequent sanitizer. He raids the pantry frequently, sleeps at all hours, considers scooting a swivel chair down the halls exercise for the thighs, blasts video games, and so on.

Going back to the sanitizer thing, it’s not that he’s just not exactly known for being tidy. Colossus occasionally does drag him out of bed at a decidedly decent time (read: any time before 11am) to try and get him excited about cleaning up around the mansion, but it rarely ends well. At this point, the safest option is to just remind Wade to wash his hands for 20 seconds as necessary.

Has acquired a Switch and visits everyone’s island, often to bonk them on the head with a net or gift them with weird crap they don’t necessarily want. For the “friends” from Sister Margaret’s, he has somehow acquired their Dodo Codes. Nobody knows how he did this. 

Facetimes Dopinder frequently.

“Precious, you’re the beacon of light in this cold, cruel world.” “I miss you, too, DP --” “Sshshsh! I’m having a moment . . .” *weeps*

On the many occasions he orders delivery, he tips by giving the delivery person something expensive from the mansion that they can sell. Prof. X is loaded, after all. Plus, he more or less isn’t even present in this universe, it’s not like he’s gonna miss anything he can’t see/probably doesn’t even know exists in his house. The problem is, Colossus does exist and does notice and does care when things go missing. Leading to many a delivery person getting caught up in shenanigans at that weird school in the boonies that they either don’t get paid enough to deal with or couldn’t pay to make up.

“Oh, pawn shops are closed?” asks the man who looks like a skinned avocado if avocados had human skin. “Don’t worry, lemme hook you up -- I know some guys --” “DEADPOOOOOLLL!!” roars a Russian accent from inside the house. “WHERE IS THE BRONZE BUST OF THE PROFESSOR!?” The poor delivery person’s eyes widen as they realize that the odd cargo they’ve been presented with apparently holds some value of some kind. But before they can flee, the avocado man blurts, “Shit! Leave the pizza in the bushes, look me up on my Youtube page, byyyeeee!!”

In his defense, Wade does hold up his end of the deal. Much like the Dodo Codes, nobody knows what strings he pulled. They just accept it and move on.

Harley Quinn

Surprisingly compliant.

She’s crazy, not stupid: Staying at home may suck, but what sucks more is making things harder on people who may not fair so well. Besides, she’s spent time in a maximum security prison -- she can handle staying cooped up in her own home. At least home has TV, books, and snacks.

When she hears people are still going out without masks or plotting to have a protest, she strongly considers firing up the old Fun Gun and popping the next sign-carrying Karen she sees with a tit full of cadmium yellow powder.

Seriously, stay the fuck home and fuck up your own hair; this is the perfect time to make mistakes with your looks, it ain’t like you got anywhere to be or anyone to impress.

“STAY THE FUCK HOME, BITCH!” P O W!!! “JUST GO GREY ALREADY, WE ALL KNOW YOUR HAIR AIN’T THAT COLOR ANYMORE, YOU’RE THREE YEARS FROM BEING IN THE GODDAMN AGE-BRACKET!!!” P O W!!!!

Only leaves her new apartment to grab groceries and to take Bruce on a walk. She actually refuses to steal or cause a scene during this shitshow because she may be a bad guy, but she sure ain’t evil.

So far, there haven’t been complaints about the fact that she’s walking a hyena down a public street. Maybe it’s because there’s hardly anyone out? Maybe it’s because Gothamites just can’t be bothered to be fazed by it . . . Or maybe it’s because she made him a little mask for his snout.

“In this house, we wash our hands for at least 20 seconds, kid.”

Lets the forest reclaim the earth, so to speak. She was never really shaving anything for anyone but herself before, but now it just seems especially pointless.

Spends almost every day in a kigurumi. To give her a semblance of routine, she has a pink bear one she calls her “Sunday Suit.” She doesn’t know it’s not Sunday because the days just blur but Cass just doesn’t have the heart to tell her; she seemed so proud of herself . . .

Like everyone else, she’s gotten Animal Crossing. She’s trying to create an all-preppy island with a few exceptions (Astrid = Aesthetic, m’kay?)

Tips nicely when ordering delivery.

Benoit Blanc

As young and spry in nature as the gentleman sleuth would like to think of himself, he would really rather not test the dangers of the situation and go about all foolhardy -- he’s staying home!

In theory, it’s only logical and therefore perfectly fine. But in practice . . . God, he wishes he’d invested more in things to occupy himself with when home.

It wasn’t that Benoit was never home, he just never felt too much of a need to invest in a fancy entertainment center -- the fanciest he ever got was an iHome.

The beginning of the quarantine served as the perfect time for him to read over case files, catch up on paperwork, even catch up on some reading he’d been putting on hold since God knows when due to cases popping up left and right. But that dried up quicker than he’d assumed, and that’s when he was faced with what a man of his mind dreads the most: Boredom.

Finally caved and decided to hook up Amazon Fire.

Expected to use the one-month free trial on Netflix and be just fine but once the lockdown in his area got extended and he realized he wasn’t going to be able to catch up with Crazy Ex-Girlfriend at this rate, he caves even further and buys a subscription.

Fully delights at the influx of platforms uploading Broadway recordings; when The Show Must Go On put on Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat, followed by The Phantom of The Opera, it was a treat, I tell you!

Sanitizes often, despite hardly ever leaving his house besides to have a smoke or to go grab groceries. Honestly, it’s less about cleaning at this point so much as it is finding something to occupy his focus when he feels there’s nothing else to so.

Takes zinc after every meal to help lessen the intensity of any ailment that might hit him.

Definitely owns a facemask. There’s a good chance it’s from Marta or one of his relatives, and there’s another good chance the pattern is as flamboyant as his clothing. He’s delighted.

Benoit tries not to rely too much on delivery,  as he’d much rather just cook. On the rare occasion where tipping comes up, however, he gives as generously as he can.

Bonus: There’s a slight chance he might have acquired a companion to foster early on in the quarantine. Benoit hadn’t had a pet since childhood, a crime of which he was admittedly melancholic of his own involvement. However, his surprisingly busy lifestyle just wouldn’t suit a four-legged friend, now could it?

Well, now there’s time to. Besides, it would certainly ease the potential feeling of loneliness to have someone or something with whom he could interact with.

Admittedly, when shelters began encouraging people to invest time in taking home a companion, he’d been looking more for a comrade on the canine side of the spectrum -- but darn, if Duke wasn’t a handsome cat.

A lovely grey-and-white cat with eyes that matched his own, Duke has become the one Benoit monologues to (because in all honesty, the man is a performer at heart, in need of an audience to speak his mind to and portray a thought before). Plus, he doesn’t appear to mind it when Benoit finds himself belting out in tone-deaf notes to showtunes while washing the dishes: The mark of a true companion.

At this rate, he’s probably not going to keep fostering Duke when things calm down -- he’s probably going to just straight up adopt him.

Stay safe & healthy!

[cicada-bones]

The Warrior and the Embers

Chapter 9: Training

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Once again, all sound ceased as Rowan descended the stairwell and entered within view of the kitchens. Emrys’ soft singing and the mindless chatter from the young male – Luca, he remembered – cutting off abruptly. The girl was hunched over a washbasin, slowly scrubbing at a dish. Just the sight of her was enough to turn his slowly burning fury into a raging inferno.

Rowan hadn’t realized that he’d been hoping to find the girl suffering, moaning and groaning about doing such menial, servant work. But she just seemed to have been steadily laboring, quietly in the corner.

“Let’s go.” Rowan said, his voice hard.

As the princess moved to join him, Rowan caught Emrys looking at him with a new kind of fear in his eyes. A fear for others, for this girl.

Rowan clenched his teeth tightly, grinding them together. Something about Emrys’ worry on the behalf of this arrogant, insufferable, worthless princess was beyond aggravating. She did not deserve any pity, or affection.

Rowan led the girl through the small interior courtyard and out into the forest. It was now nearly midday, but the light and warmth of the sun’s rays couldn’t really pierce through the layers of mist shrouding the moss-covered oaks. It chilled Rowan’s bones, and he could hear the princess’ teeth chattering behind him. Good.

They slowly made their way up the rocky ridge and into the highest reaches of the forest, until the foothills were left far behind them and green fields stretched before them.

After the speed and surety of his flight that morning, treading along at a mortal pace was agonizing. The girl seemed to barely move, their snail’s pace making this short trip into an hour-long slog.

Luckily, the princess kept silent, and they both avoided throwing gasoline onto the flames simmering between them. But not for long.

Rowan was leading them to an old temple of the sun goddess, Mala. It was now a ruin, but he could still feel the warmth of the goddess’ power echoing in the stones below as he crossed over them and paid homage to the goddess who favored him.

Then the girl spoke up from behind him, her voice a crackling whip through the misty silence. “Do your worst.”

Rowan turned and gave her an obvious once-over, cataloguing her mist-soaked clothing, the bruises on her face and body, her loose muscles, the positions of her feet and arms... She wasn’t ready for a fight, and she knew it.

He breathed through the fury. This girl was going to be the death of him. “Wipe that smarmy, lying smile off your face,” he snarled. Rowan had no patience left for her ridiculous antics today, not after the morning he’d had.

She didn’t shift a muscle. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” If anything, the antagonism in her voice had only increased.

Rowan felt the muscles in his body stretch and expand, filling with a violent intent and a ravenous desire for action. He stepped forwards, his chest now less than a foot from her body, and flashed his canines at her.

“Here’s your first lesson, girl: cut the horseshit. I don’t feel like dealing with it, and I’m probably the only one who doesn’t give a damn about how angry and vicious and awful you are underneath.”

Her jaw clenched. “I don’t think you particularly want to see how angry and vicious and awful I am underneath.”

“Go ahead and be as nasty as you want, Princess, because I’ve been ten times as nasty, for ten times longer than you’ve been alive.”

Rowan’s words, or at least the aching, primal challenge within them, finally reached her. She pulled her lips back from her teeth in a feral grin. He snarled in response. “Better. Now shift.” Maybe if her pissed the girl off just enough, he could find a way around those iron bars in her mind.

Her voice was vicious. “It’s not something I can control.”

“If I wanted excuses, I’d ask for them. Shift.”

She didn’t even try, didn’t reach within herself. Instead she snarled right back at him. “I hope you brought snacks, because we’re going to be here a long, long while if today’s lesson is dependent upon my shifting.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re really going to make me enjoy training you.”

She plowed on, heedless of the violence promised by the set of his jaw and the shape of his body.  “I’ve already participated in a dozen versions of the master-disciple training saga, so why don’t we cut that horseshit, too?”

His fingers twitched, voice becoming quieter, more lethal. “Shut your smart-ass mouth and shift.”

She set her jaw, tensing her muscles. “No.”

And Rowan lunged.

Somehow, she dodged his first blow, sidestepping the fist he sent flying to her face. And then she twisted enough in the opposite direction to blindly avoid his second strike to her left side. But even with her years of training as an assassin, she wasn’t fast enough to evade his third blow, a swift kick to the backs of her legs.

She thudded to the ground gracelessly, slamming her already wrecked face onto the weather-beaten rock. The princess rolled to the side, groaning, her breathing ragged, as Rowan effortlessly pounced and straddled her chest, effectively rendering her motionless.

She tried to unseat him, but her movements were ineffective, fluttery things. They lacked strength, or any real conviction.

“Shift.” Rowan hissed, shoving all the menace, all the anger and hate and vitriol that he possessed into the command.

She just laughed at him, an emotionless, cold thing. Like a dead fish.

It was as if her every action, her every breath, was perfectly designed to piss him off. Rowan didn’t think it would have been possible for him to be more furious, more insanely angry than he had been when he hit her last night, but he had been dead wrong.

“Nice try,” she chuckled. “You think you can trick me into shifting by pissing me off?”

Rowan snarled viciously, his canines inches from her throat.

“Here’s an idea: I’m rich as hell. How about we pretend to do this training for a week or so, and then you tell Maeve I’m good and ready to enter her territory, and I’ll give you all the gods-damned gold you want.”

Rowan nearly exploded with rage. Bribery? The girl thought to placate him with her blood money?

For the first time in two centuries, Rowan was filled with the desire to hurt another being. To make her suffer. To make her feel pain.

“Here’s an idea,” The words escaped from deep within his throat, cracking his ice-covered heart with the fiery hate they were bathed in. “I don’t know what the hell you’ve been doing for ten years, other than flouncing around and calling yourself an assassin. But I think you’re used to getting your way. I think you have no control over yourself. No control, and no discipline—not the kind that counts, deep down. You are a child, and a spoiled one at that. And,” he paused, deliberating, finding the words that would hit her the hardest, “you are a coward.”

The word sank into her like that blade it was, and she struggled beneath him, her eyes alight with fury. He let out a low, malicious laugh.

Then Rowan took the blade and twisted.

“Don’t like that word?” He leaned closer still, now close enough to rip out her throat without barely moving. “Coward. You’re a coward who has run for ten years while innocent people were burned and butchered and tortured because of you. Because you fled, because you abandoned them – ”

Rowan’s voice cut off as he saw the utter, complete blankness in the girl’s eyes. It was like she was dead, like his vicious words had killed her and sent her to the Afterworld.

But her heart still beat and her chest still moved, so she wasn’t dead. She was hiding. Hiding away where the truth couldn’t touch her, where she didn’t have to deal with her reality, or face her fears.

Well, if anger couldn’t bring on the shift, perhaps fear would. The princess could do with a healthy dose of fear.

“Get up.” Rowan stood, setting the princess free. She didn’t move. “Get up.” He snarled more viciously. Slowly, the life returned to her eyes, but she still didn’t move a muscle.

Rowan’s nostrils flared. He reached down and pulled her up by her shoulders, her thin body light as a willow wand.

“Pathetic,” he spat, releasing her roughly. “Spineless and pathetic.”

The girl just looked back at him, her face blank and pale, as he turned and strode into the woods.

···

Rowan led the princess back down the wooded slope and through the oaks, but he was not taking her back to Mistward. No, he was angling towards the barrow field mounds, and the wights that nestled within them.

Rowan knew that this was a stupid, dangerous idea. He was just too furious to care.

He wanted the princess to get a taste of the creatures waiting out there, a taste of the wideness and depth of a world that she had barely seen a fraction of. He wouldn’t actually let them kill her, no matter how much he wanted her gone. He just needed her to get a taste of real fear, of the inescapable panic brought on by powerlessness. Maybe it would even force her around those iron bars. Force her to shift.

Rowan didn’t really care either way. He was so angry at this girl, this child, that he could barely see straight. Yet again, he had surprised himself, Rowan hadn’t wished death on another thinking being so desperately, so violently, since the years after the death of his mate. The years where he slowly took his revenge, and then aimlessly wandered the earth, purposeless.

There was no reason for him to hate the princess that much – no logical explanation for it. It didn’t make sense, but Rowan with still too furious to give a shit. He just wanted the girl to hurt. And to wipe that arrogant smirk off her face permanently.

The pair of them approached the barrows, Rowan drawing his sword and dagger cautiously, then he turned to the girl and spoke.

“I had planned to wait until you had some handle on your power – planned to make you come at night, when the barrow-wights are really something to behold, but consider this a favor, as there are few that will dare come out in the day. Walk through the mounds – face the wights and make it to the other side of the field, Aelin, and we can go to Doranelle whenever you wish.”

Her eyes were cold and hard as she regarded him. She had to know that this was a trap, that there was no way she could face the wights without control of her magic and still live. Had to know that Rowan was using her mortal impatience against her.

The scent of fear drifted from her on the wind’s back, while her posture spoke of a hesitant wariness.

The corners of Rowan’s lips curled into a smile as he noticed her eyeing his weapons. He shrugged his shoulders, “You can either wait to earn back your steel, or you can enter as you are now.”

A quick flash of temper. “My bare hands are weapon enough.”

Rowan’s smile widened as he turned and sauntered through the hills, leading the girl to the center of the field where he knew that a wight had been freed.

Each of the barrows were sealed with heavy, iron doors that were bolted into stone foundations, locking up the beasts within. There were dozens of them, ancient tombs of kings and princes long since passed. And they all breathed – the air around them moving in strange, twisting currents as the creatures within slept.

But as he and the princess walked past, the earth yawned, and the barrow mounds were filled with the rustling of awakening things. But still they walked on, the princess remaining close behind despite the fear steadily pumping its way through her blood and pulsing into the air around them. Her fear excited the wights, pulling them out of their niches and from within their lairs.

They reached the center – the oldest barrow in the field. It rested in the middle of a circle of dead grass, and the stones of its threshold had been broken – torn asunder by the tenacious fingers of tree roots and gnarled bushes. And the iron door was gone, nowhere in sight.

“I leave you here,” Rowan said, carefully keeping his feet outside the ring of dead grass. His smile was deadly. “I’ll meet you on the other side of the field.”

The girl looked like she was about to bolt. To run and run and run until she was as far away from him and this field as she could get. But instead of giving in to the impulse, the foolish girl steeled herself, inclined her head to Rowan, and walked into the dead grass.

She moved slowly, steadily, the way one does when they’re trying not to spook a predator. Not realizing it wouldn’t make any difference.

But for some reason, the wight didn’t attack. It remained hidden within its barrow, completely out of sight as the girl made her slow approach and turned to walk around to the other side of the mound. It was…afraid. But not of them. Wights were not afraid of the Fae, no matter how powerful.

Rowan took off, sprinting to the other side of the field. Could luck, blind, foolish luck get the girl out of this completely unharmed?

Frustration bubbled deep in Rowan’s gut as he reached the other side of the field, eyes searching intently for any sign of the girl or the wight. But when the central mound came into view, only darkness met his gaze.

Rowan stopped suddenly, his whole body tensing yet again. But it was a completely different kind of tension than he had just experienced in his brawl with the princess. Then, he had not actually felt any danger, any threat. The girl was only a mortal – a well-trained one, yes, but a mortal nonetheless. She posed no danger to him or any other Fae.

This however, was something different. Something wrong.

The blackness was not of the wights’ making. It was different. Entirely other. And the creatures were hiding from it.

The darkness cloaked the barrow-mounds like a black cloth, thicker and more impenetrable than smoke. It was like a brick wall of inky night had been erected in the middle of the field, and from within, Rowan could barely sense a thing.

He could just barely smell the princess’ terror and pain, but those scents were almost entirely masked by the overwhelming scent emanating from the dark wall itself.

It was of dust and carrion, and something else – something indescribable. It was almost like the scent that had obscured the body of the demi-Fae male, but different somehow. Shifted. The way scents varied between individuals. But still wholly wrong. Not human, not Fae, and not animal. Not even skinwalker or faerie or dragon. It wasn’t alive, had no pulse or emotion or essence the way all living beings did.

Rowan could just barely hear the girl gasping, “This is not real. This is not real.” Her voice was desperate and panicked, and Rowan was surprised to be feeling…fear. Though the emotion was barely a flicker, it was still there. He was afraid.

Rowan rallied, and considered his options. There weren’t many.

He could either wait for the princess to appear out of the darkness, for the black curtain to dissipate on its own, or he could enter into the black void and discover for himself what was within.

His entire being shied from that path. The darkness and whatever created it was wrong. Not of this earth. And…when he looked too long in its depths he could see things…hear Lyria’s screams…feel her body in his arms…

And then the princess was running, lurching and stumbling and falling over herself. Desperate to get away, to escape the blackness and whatever lay within it. Rowan moved forwards to meet her, to pull her away from the void, shoving that aching, screaming part of himself deep inside and locking it behind walls of ice.

A gasping, shrieking noise was leaking from somewhere deep in her chest. Her face was bone white, and her clothes were soiled, covered in vomit and piss and bodily fluids.

She stumbled and fell at his feet, still retching, though now only a small stream of bile trickled from her mouth, her stomach emptied.

Rowan gritted his teeth. No matter the ferocity of the darkness, or the strength of the malice it radiated, the girl should have more discipline, more self-control than she was currently demonstrating. The princess was weak, and self-indulgent. She had no control over her emotions whatsoever, and instead gave herself to them, letting them do what they would.

The terror and grief and pain coming from her was so strong, so intense that he could taste its metallic tang on his teeth. It coated his mouth like bile.

And then, finally, she began to shift – the fear so strong and all-consuming that she was forced through those iron bars and into her other form.

Maybe this had been worth it.

But there was only a flash of canines and pointed ears and then she groaned, returning to her mortal form – but there was another flash of light and the girl shifted back to immortal, her face contorting in agony.

The shifting was completely uncontrolled. Her flesh rippled like water as she flipped between her two forms, mortal and immortal, fast as the beat of a hummingbird’s wings. She was stuck in the place between, tangled up in those iron bars separating her from her power.

The girl’s magic surged around her, cradling her in its blanket of fire. But instead of relaxing into its embrace, she choked on it, gasping, screaming –

And then she passed out.

Rowan sighed in exasperation.

While he had been focusing on the princess writhing on the ground before him, the darkness had slowly dissipated, leaving behind no trace of its existence, or of what had created it.

The wind whispered to him of a fast-moving body, some kind of creature, whipping through the tree branches to the southwest.

Rowan longed to go after it, to track it back through the barrow mounds and into the forest beyond, to follow it back to its lair. But he couldn’t leave the girl at his feet on her own, alone and weak and vulnerable in the middle of a field of wights. Wights that were quickly recovering in the absence of the dark creature, and stirring once more in their hollows.

Rowan groaned his frustration, and then gingerly grasped the disgusting girl’s shoulders and dragged her into the safety of the forest at their backs.

He dumped her a few hundred feet into the safety of the canopy, then sprinted back towards the barrows, shifting midstride. He circled the fields and the surrounding woodlands, scanning for any sign of the darkness or anything that could possibly be the otherworldly creature that had created it. But there was nothing.

Nothing strange, nothing that stood out. And no trace of that awful, wretched stench.

Rowan curved back to return to where he’d left the princess, fuming. If only she had more self-control, if she could have run into the safety of the trees without completely losing it, he could have gone off and pursued the creature. Maybe even discovered what had killed the demi-Fae male, and removed a threat from Doranelle’s lands. Protected the fortress.

But the spineless princess had prevented him from doing so.

Rowan sat on a rock next to her prone form, waiting for her to return to consciousness. He idly threw a dagger as he stewed, his anger slowly bubbling and murmuring in his blood.

Eventually, the girl awoke, her eyes slowly sliding open, sore limbs stretching.

He didn’t wait for her to recover. “No discipline, no control, and no courage.” She turned to look at him, eyes glazed over. “You failed. You made it to the other side of the field, but I said to face the wights – not throw a magical tantrum.”

Her fury blazed to life, overwhelming the exhaustion and lingering fear. Rising to match his own writhing temper. “I will kill you. How dare – ”

“That was not a wight, Princess.” Rowan interrupted, his well of patience dangerously close to running dry. He definitely didn’t have enough left to listen to her go on another arrogant tirade. He barely had enough to speak at all.

Their eyes met, and he mentally shot towards her, That thing should not have been there.

Then what in hell was it, you stupid bastard? she shot back, without hesitation.

Rowan clenched his jaw. Even completely silent, the girl’s tone reeked of arrogant disdain. “I don’t know. We’ve had skinwalkers on the prowl for weeks, roaming down from the hills to search for human pelts, but this…this was something different. I have never encountered its like, not in these lands or any other. Thanks to having to drag you away, I don’t think I’ll learn anytime soon.” He looked pointedly at her deplorable state. “It was gone when I circled back. Tell me what happened. I saw only darkness, and when you emerged, you were – different.”

She looked down at herself, frowning in disgust. “No. And you can go to hell.”

He pressed. “Other lives might depend on it.”

“I want to go back to the fortress,” Her words came with a very great effort, her breaths shallow and labored. “Right now.”

Anger burned even higher within him, reaching to claw at his throat. Selfish brat. “You’re done when I say you’re done.”

“You can kill me or torture me or throw me off a cliff, but I am done for today. In that darkness, I saw things that no one should be able to see. It dragged me through my memories – and not the decent ones. Is that enough for you?”

The girl’s voice was different, altered by her encounter with the creature. This time, her ferocity didn’t come from arrogance, or aggression, or narcissism. Instead it was the sound of a desperate, small, trapped person. Someone who had run from pain for so long, that they no longer knew how to face it any other way.

Rowan spat out a sharp sound of frustration and anger. Nothing could excuse her refusal, her unwillingness to provide potentially crucial information. He was right, the girl was a coward – through and through.

Rowan stood, and led her through the woods and back to Mistward, completely failing to ignore the fury pounding its way through his limbs as he brooded.

The iron bars in her mind were made of fear. A terror so large and great that she allowed it to control her, to cripple her and prevent her from being herself. From accessing the other half of her identity – her Fae form.

The princess would have to overcome her own fear and cowardice in order to learn control. The question was – how to make a coward face their fears?

They arrived back at the fortress, the girl turning away from the entry guards as they passed, trying to hide the horrific state she was in. They noticed anyways, disgust and anger and fear wafting from them as they took in her rank stench and beaten body. And the sentiment was reflected by all of the many workers and soldiers they passed, though none voiced their worry or discomfort – all too intimidated by the force of Rowan’s presence, or by the girl’s own hostility.

He knew the reputation he already carried with the fortress residents, as well as the wider world. Knew that this would do nothing at all to endear them to him. Would maybe even make the girl a figure of sympathy.

He didn’t care. There was nothing to be done about it regardless.

Rowan was desperate to leave, but before he dumped her, he managed to say, “These are the female baths. Your room is a level up. Be in the kitchens at dawn tomorrow.”

And he strode down the corridor without a second glance – relieved to escape the fiery torrent of her presence and fall back into the waiting arms of his cool, icy indifference.

···

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

[wazafam]

In the video game movie subgenre, 2014's Street Fighter: Assassins' Fist is by far the best ever made. Video game movies are notoriously regarded with more disdain than appreciation among moviegoers and gamers alike, the latter in particular usually very reticent about getting their hopes up when one is on the way. Street Fighter itself has been right at the center of the poor reputation of video game movies with its first two cinematic outings, which makes Assassin's Fist that much more of a diamond in the rough.

Born out of the 2010 short film Street Fighter: Legacy, Assassin's Fist first debuted as a web series in May of 2014 before hitting home media as a complete movie. Written by Joey Ansah and Christian Howard and directed by Ansah, Assassin's Fist also saw Ansah portray the villainous Akuma, with Howard playing Ken Masters, and Mike Moh in the role of Ryu (replacing Jon Foo from Legacy). Assassin's Fist was subsequently followed up by the 2016 interquel Street Fighter: Resurrection, and despite grand plans for a Street Fighter: World Warrior series to fully bring the franchise to life, with Suicide Squad director David Ayer to helm the pilot and Ansah even having Scott Adkins as his first choice for Guile, a lack of studio movement led to the rights reverting to Capcom and World Warrior falling into limbo.

RELATED: Avatar: The Last Airbender's Street Fighter Cameo Explained

That's nothing short of a crying shame, given that Assassin's Fist set the stage for the planned story to grow and thrive in the complete opposite trajectory from where the reputation of video game movies currently sits. Ansah has also commented that a need to maintain creative control as showrunner on World Warrior is partly what led to a stall in movement in the series, and given how Assassin's Fist turned out in contrast to other video game movies, and past Street Fighter films in particular, he was anything but unjustified in standing his ground. Their poor reputation notwithstanding, video game movies aren't dying out, as last year's Sonic the Hedgehog, the reboot of Mortal Kombat, and the forthcoming Resident Evil reboot show. Yet despite the success of those films, Assassin's Fist stands apart for a number of reasons.

Street Fighter may be one of the longest-running and most popular video game franchises ever created, but as a cinematic property, it was damaged goods at best before 2010. As one of the first major films based on a video game, 1994's Jean-Claude Van Damme-led Street Fighter was an absurd, campy romp, though it admittedly has amassed a sizeable fan base for those very qualities. Raul Julia's ridiculously unhinged portrayal of M. Bison is as quotable today as it was when audiences first heard him proclaim Blanka to be "A beast born of my own genius!" and even that's just scratching the surface of how much scenery Julia chewed playing the dictator. Street Fighter may have been a trainwreck in adapting its namesake, but no action movie whose villain proclaims "You come here prepared to fight a madman, and instead you found a god?" will want for entertainment value.

Fifteen years later, the Street Fighter brand took another black eye with 2009's Street Fighter: The Legend of Chun Li, which had the opposite problem of being a dull, boring slog through chaotically edited fight scenes and a misguided attempt to use the dark-and-gritty approach on a property with such fantastical elements. No longer was M. Bison a Psycho Power-wielding, muscled up would-be dictator, but an Irish crime boss in a suit and tie played by Neal McDonough. Meanwhile, the titular Chun Li, played by Smallville's Kristin Kreuk, was a generic blank slate heroine who only donned her trademark ox horns and blue outfit from the games once in a fight scene that made poor use of the character's spinning bird-kick, in addition to a vast array of other problems. If nothing else, Street Fighter at least made a worldwide haul of just shy of $100 million, while The Legend of Chun Li only scraped together $12.8 million worldwide. With its first outing going down in history as The Room of video game movies and its second bombing on an epic scale, Street Fighter didn't seem to have strong prospects in movie form.

That perception changed overnight with the sudden arrival of the short film "Street Fighter: Legacy" in May 2010. In just three minutes, Legacy did what many believed to be impossible and delivered a genuinely great live-action take on Street Fighter, and the internet wasted no time in fervently asking when a feature-length expansion of the short was coming. Four years later, it finally arrived in the form of Street Fighter: Assassin's Fist, which had become more appreciated as an epic video game web series prior to the film's release. When it came to its cinematic track record, Street Fighter had nowhere to go but up, but Assassin's Fist was simply a great movie all-around, and the embrace it received boils down to several crucial elements it brought to the table.

Among the many problems that befell Street Fighter and The Legend of Chun Li was the effort both made to split the difference between bringing realism to their action scenes and still making use of the outlandish special moves from the games, with both failing in different ways. The special moves that made it into Street Fighter were more visual homages than the techniques themselves, with Ken's approximation of a Shoryuken and M. Bison's tech-based Psycho Crusher lacking the impact they had in the games. Legend of Chun Li brought more wire-fu into the mix while showing Chun Li developing her Kikoken under Gen's training, but the execution was consistently off, with Chun Li's Kikokens more resembling special effects thrown into a fight scene than a weapon of combat being unleashed.

When it came to Assassin's Fist, by the end of the movie, it'd be easy to believe that one could travel to Japan and actually train in Ansatsuken. Though Assassin's Fist had great action scenes, it was, first and foremost, a martial arts film, taking viewers in-depth into the fundamentals of Ansatsuken alongside Ken and Ryu and presenting the fictional martial art as matter-of-factly as actual kung fu or karate. More importantly, it made the superhuman side of their fighting skills seem realistic in a way that even many Street Fighter fans were stunned by.

Techniques like Shoryukens, Hadoukens, and Tatsumaki-sempukyakus were presented not as superpowers, but as legitimate fighting techniques based in chi (or qi). Though Street Fighter devotees were more familiar with this, it came across as more palpable since Assassin's Fist had presented the training in a fictional and highly ostentatious martial art with the same reverence as one would expect from, for example, the Kickboxer or Best of the Best movies. By the time of Ken and Ryu's climactic sparring match, in which they are permitted to wield the Hado-based techniques of Ansatsuken, viewers were invested in the time and effort the characters had poured into mastering the highest levels of their art. As impressive as it was for Assassin's Fist to portray a martial art like Ansatsuken as something that could be real, it also connected with viewers from another, equally deep angle.

RELATED: Max Cloud Is Scott Adkins Street Fighter (In A Good Way)

Being born out of a gaming franchise with a much more abstract story structure than Mortal Kombat or Tekken, Assassin's Fist was a martial arts epic to the core and one about the tragedy of aggression and excessive ambition leading practitioners astray. Not unlike the light and dark sides of the Force in Star Wars and Anakin Skywalker's fall to the latter, Assassin's Fist centered on the divergent methods of Ansatsuken training: Mu No Hado and the more aggressive Satsui No Hado. At first selling Ken and Ryu on the former as the "purer" method of developing skill in Hado techniques, Akira Koieyama's Gouken swiftly begs Ken to avoid Satsui No Hado and to keep it hidden from Ryu. Gouken has good reason to fear his young students being seduced by the power of Satsui No Hado and its quicker path to generating Hado, seeing firsthand what it did to his brother Goki thirty years earlier.

Played by Gaku Space in flashbacks, Goki's embrace of Satsui No Hado transformed an already unstable rising martial artist with a violent streak into a soulless killing machine. In contrast to Ken and Ryu's exciting and upbeat training montages, Goki's training in the wilderness after his exile from Gotetsu's dojo is more akin to a demonic kind of viral infection. Lumbering out of his cavern home (and now played by Joey Ansah), Satsui No Hado makes Goki into one of the most formidable fighters on Earth, but at the cost of his humanity, transforming him into the murderous Akuma, whose only goal is to slay all who could challenge him as the world's true master of Ansatsuken. Though Togo Igawa's Gotetsu is defeated when Akuma returns, he dies with some happiness, knowing that he trained a student who succeeded in fully mastering the power of Satsui No Hado.

As Ken and Ryu progress in the Street Fighter movie and Ryu shows signs of being overcome by Satsui No Hado, Gouken's knows his brother's inevitable challenge will come soon, leading him to send his young students on their warrior's pilgrimage and prepare to fight his brother to the death at last to spare Ryu Akuma's deadly pursuit. Alongside Ken's longstanding issues with his father and Ryu's troubled inner spirit, Assassin's Fist's story was one of what it really means to become a warrior. To Gouken, the greatest opponent one can ever face is themselves, and to Akuma, being able to defeat all challengers is the be-all and end-all of Ansatsuken. Though he imparts his vast wisdom to Ken and Ryu, Gouken could not pull his brother back from the darkness. Assassin's Fist ends as their final confrontation is about to commence with Gouken all the while hoping that Ryu can fight off the demons that his brother could not.

What finally sealed the deal on the success of Assassin's Fist was the fact that it was able to work on multiple levels for practically any demographic, and not just as one of the best fighting games. Gamers and Street Fighter fans had reason to cheer for a gaming franchise that had seemed all but impossible to do well in live-action hitting the bull's eye in Assassin's Fist. For general martial arts fans, Assassin's Fist also held worth in treating a fictional martial art with the same care as one would accord real-world fighting styles, emphasizing the training as the centerpiece of the story. Just as importantly, it connected with its audience on an emotional level, whether invested in it as a video game player, a martial arts practitioner, or simply a general viewer.

In two and a half hours, Street Fighter: Assassin's Fist rescued the Street Fighter movie franchise with an excellent story and characters that resonated with viewers regardless of their experience or lack thereof with the games, and outstanding training and action sequences that felt real in a way that would've seemed impossible for a martial art involving fireballs and thirty-foot uppercuts. One can only hope that the Street Fighter: World Warrior series gets pulled off the shelf and greenlit. As a follow-up to the greatness of Street Fighter: Assassin's Fist with the same creative team involved, one can only imagine how much it would bring to the world of video game adaptations by the end of season 1.

NEXT: Mortal Kombat 2021 Proves That Street Fighter Reboot Should Be Revived

  Why Street Fighter: Assassin's Fist Is The Best Video Game Movie from https://ift.tt/3eS5gnc

[casualotptrash]

Why the Persona 3 FES vs Portable Debate Makes Me Want to Fly Into the Sun Pt. 1

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Yes, this is an emotionally fueled rant about Persona 3. No, this is not meant to send hate at those who enjoy Persona 3 FES or dislike Persona 3 Portable.

That being said, this discussion mentally pains me. I won’t go into all of my opinions on the matter here (I’ll probably go into it later with more posts), but I will be talking about one of the most prevalent “points” that I see being brought up every time the comparison between FES and Portable is made:

“Just play FES with the controllable party members mod.”

This point, although it doesn’t say so directly, essentially sends the message to anyone who doesn’t know the differences between the two games that the only thing Portable has to offer (besides the obvious changes to the game) is controllable party members. For the sake of this post, I won’t be going into the obvious changes such as having cutscenes and The Answer in FES compared to no cutscenes and a FeMC route in Portable. Instead, I’m going to rant about every other positive change I can remember that no one seems to talk about.

1. Jealousy Mechanic

Unlike in FES, the jealousy mechanic is completely erased in the Male Route. The dialogue/warning will still show up after hanging out with multiple female social links, but the social link will never reverse or break because of this. Social links are already a pain to try and max out in a run, even on NG+ without a guide, so the fact that you don’t have to stop seeing a social link for awhile or focus on just one girl at a time means this will at least be marginally easier in Portable. For those who don’t care about maxing out all of the social links, it’s still a relief because you can hang out with whatever social link you want without any penalty. This doesn’t apply to the Female Route as there isn’t a jealousy mechanic even implemented into that.

2. Fatigue Mechanic

For the pure amount of people I see complain about Tartarus, and don’t get me wrong I’m one of them too, I cannot comprehend how they fail to mention this change. In Portable, the fatigue mechanic is totally gone. Much like the jealousy mechanic, the text is still there where the navigator will say you’re getting tired, but no one actually gets the tired effect until you leave Tartarus completely. This means you can bust out a whole block in one sitting, if you so choose. I found this extremely useful because I hated being in Tartarus and this allowed me to just get it all done quickly instead of having to go back and forth from the Dark Hour multiple times.

3. Various Battle Mechanics

In addition to adding the “direct” command to the tactics menu (allowing controllable party members), Portable also adds the “defend” option. This is akin to the “guard” option in the other games where you use your turn to gain more defense. The combat system has also been improved to function more like P4′s in the way that you can get a 1-more from knocking just one enemy down, it no longer takes a full turn for a party member to get up after being knocked down (so you can stand up and immediately do your turn), party members can follow up with a co-op attack if you knock an enemy down, and after a certain social link event for the team social link party members can take a fatal blow for the MC. Again, I don’t know how people are not talking about any of these changes besides the “direct command” addition while also complaining about how Tartarus is a slog. You know what makes it less like a slog? All of these additions.

4. Equipment Menu

Many of the changes not talked about are tweaks to Tartarus/battle gameplay, and this is another one of them. Although more of a small quality of life change to save some hassle, I personally appreciate any change that makes Tartarus easier to get through. In FES, if you wanted to change your party member’s equipment, you would have to talk to the party member who you wanted to change the equipment for. That means if you wanted to change your whole party you would have to do your own first and then talk to your three other party members individually. Portable changes this so that there is one overarching equipment menu that you can access (like in the future games) and change their equipment there.

5. Fusion skills being items + Personas giving you skill cards

This is probably one of the smaller changes, but it can still be really useful. First off, fusion skills in FES are activated when you have two specific personas needed for the skill, but in Portable fusion skills can be bought as items from a store. They cost “gems” that are collected in Tartarus and I think some can be acquired as rewards for quests. This can be useful if you want to use a fusion skill without needing to have the two specific personas taking up slots. Additionally, every persona now gives the player a skill card once they reach a certain level with them. Skill cards can also be bought for gems in the same store that fusion skill items can be bought from. With how fusion works in P3, in which skills are unable to be specifically selected to pass onto the persona being fused, having skills cards is a pretty good change.

6. More Tartarus events/anomalies

Sometimes when going into Tartarus, “anomalies” can occur. This ranges from entering a floor and having your whole party be separated or entering a floor and having no shadows present. Portable adds four new anomalies, and although they may not add much sometimes they can be pretty helpful. The four new events are experience gain will increase on the floor, enemy items drops will increase, the floor will become dark and the auto-mapping feature in game is temporarily disabled, and upon entering the floor it can be fully mapped by the navigator. I specifically found the increased experience gain to be useful because that really boosted the experience cards and could easily level you up without having to grind for hours.

7. Two more added difficulties + Vision Quest

With the new changes to combat, some people dislike how easy the game can seem. To counteract this, or for people who really just want to play the game for the story, two new difficulties were added to Portable: Beginner and Maniac. Beginner is below Easy and significantly toned down enemy damage, and the player has 30 plumes of dusk (opposed to 10 when starting on Easy). Maniac is above Hard, and it adds a heap of new things to make the game more difficult such as enemies deal 2 times more damage than normal, can gain a higher chance of Enemy Advantage when not taken by surprise, and certain weapon fusions cannot be performed. If this still isn’t hard enough for you...I’m sorry, or something? I personally played on Easy because I was working my way through the Neo-Persona (3-5) games and didn’t want it to take ten years.

If you still want more of a challenge, or a fun time-killer, Portable also added Vision Quest. Like the Monad Depths, it’s accessible through Tartarus. Upon entering there are is a door corresponding to each Full Moon boss (besides the Magician) and five special doors. Each Full Moon boss door can be fought with any party members, but the bosses are much stronger than when they were originally fought. For example, the Hanged Moon boss (last one fought) is level 54 in the base game. In the Vision Quest, the Hanged Moon boss is level 95. I did complete all of the doors in Vision Quest (on my NG+) and this one took me almost as long as the final boss of the game to beat, because of the level and the fact that is has 18,000 hp. Yes, I was around level 95 at the time too because I wanted to fuse Messiah. For reference, the final boss has around 25,500 hp in total and is level 76. The five special doors are more so puzzles rather than standard fights in my opinion because you’re forced into the fight with specific party members and stats. Each special door also has its own strategy to beat it, which is where the puzzle part comes in. An example of what these doors offer ranges from having three strong enemies you can only hit with physical attacks that consistently switch between nulling, being weak to, and absorbing all three kinds of physical attacks (and the three enemies switch at different rates/patterns) to fighting an enemy one on one that you need to kill in a certain amount of turns before they insta-kill you (and there is also a pattern of what these enemies are weak to/null/etc.) If you even try looking up what the Vision Quests are you’ll likely to see a plethora of guides because these fights can be very frustrating if you can’t get the patterns down on your own. However, that’s still good for a challenge. In addition to all of this, if you beat all of the doors you get the option to fight a second secret boss: Margaret (from Persona 4).

8. More part-time jobs

One of the more minor changes, but in Portable there are more places where you can work at for part-time jobs. I don’t know if it follows the same system as FES, but generally the longer you work at a job the more money they will give to you. This can be helpful in the early game if you want to raise a stat by working and gain money at the same time.

9. Soundtrack 

This one is tied in directly with the FeMC Route, but a whole new soundtrack is available in this game. You are able to hear almost the full Persona 3 FES soundtrack in this game with the Male Route too, so if you play both routes you won’t miss out on a majority of the songs. Personally, I like a lot of the songs from both soundtracks (and the P3 soundtrack is one of my favorites, if not maybe my number one favorite, of the 3-5 series). I believe it is also widely regarded as a solid soundtrack, and some even like it more than the Male Route one. You could just listen to the soundtrack without playing the game, but again this list is just going through changes from FES to Portable that people don’t often mention.

10. Extra scene at the end of a NG+ run (Spoilers for those who do not know the end of the game)

For everyone out there who likes the dating sim portion of Persona and a heaping of heart-breaking angst, this is for you. On a NG+ run of either route, in the final scene before the credits roll you are able to spend your last moments with whoever you romanced. They each have their own personalized little scene, that is beyond adorable and sad, and the game ends with one last loving comment/sentiment from them before you fade away and Memories of You starts playing. In my opinion, it’s a great little addition, especially for those who like to play multiple runs.

And that’s the last of it I suppose, although there are some other minor changes I probably missed because they’re too small or probably can’t be considered either a “good” or “bad” change. Anyway, asking others for their opinion on the two games is obviously fine, but if you’re someone who boils down the situation with providing the input “Just play FES with the controllable party members mod.” ....don’t. Please :)

[razieltwelve]

Sheep Dragon Developer Notes #3 – Word Length From Draft To Draft

Drafting is a process that varies markedly from author to author. Some authors only ever need two or three drafts to arrive at the final version of a story. Some may need more than a dozen. Often, it will depend on the story itself. Some stories are easier to write than others and will require less drafts to get right. Others are very tricky, which necessitates more revision and drafting. What I’d like to talk about today, however, is how the word count can change dramatically from the first draft to the final published version. Keep in mind, however, that the drafting process I’ll be describing is the one I use. What works for you might well be different, and if you’ve found something that works stick with it. As with the other parts of this series, there will be spoilers for The Sheep Dragon, but I’ll be hiding them being a ‘read more’ line.

When it comes to drafting, I like to think of my very first draft as a skeleton draft. It’s basically there to make sure that all of the pieces of the story fit together and that there isn’t anything hideously wrong with it to begin with. Essentially, it’s the ‘bones’ of the story. When writing a skeleton draft, my main focus is on getting down all of the major plot points and character interactions. Things like humour, expositional depth, and so on are often not included at this stage. Basically, the purpose of a skeleton draft is to make sure that the story can even work in the first place because there’s nothing worse than writing twenty thousand words of painstakingly perfected prose only to realise that you have to scrap it all because the idea doesn’t work.

Yeah. I’ve been there, and it is not pleasant.

The second draft is where more of the ‘meat’ of the story is added. Things like humour, proper descriptions, dialogue, and so on all begin to make their appearance here. Obviously, they’re still in quite a rough state, but this is where the story starts to become recognisable. A reader might struggle to recognise the first (skeleton draft) next to the published version. The second draft should be recognisable, albeit very rough.

The third and fourth drafts (if necessary) are where the polish really starts getting applied. This is where all of the fun stuff gets added. All of the humour is generally present at this point, and all of the descriptions and dialogue are fleshed out. It’s all about taking something that was very rough and honing it to produce the best story possible. Of particular concern in the later drafts once the plot, characters, and dialogue have all been sorted out is ensuring that the story reads well. By this, I mean that the story should read smoothly and naturally, so that a reader won’t have to slog through it. This is where small changes to improve pacing and flow really become important. There also aren’t any major plot changes at this stage. Everything of that nature should have been sorted out earlier. The last draft with any substantial changes is what I like to call the final draft because nothing big is going to change from then on.

The published draft is the version that gets published. It might vary from the final draft, but only in very minor ways. For example, sentences might get tidied up, and a paragraph might get trimmed here or there. But the differences are very small. Nothing substantial gets changed at this point because it should all have been addressed earlier.

Now, how long are these different kinds of drafts? Like I’ve said, this is the kind of thing that varies markedly from one writer to the next. For me, however, the first (skeleton) draft is far shorter than the published draft. In fact, it’s not unusual for it to more than double, perhaps even triple, in size. How much gets added is often a function of how much revision was required or how much of the story relies on dialogue, character interaction, and other things not easily captured in the very rough first draft. Below, I’ll be talking about this in the context of The Sheep Dragon.

The Sheep Dragon is made up fourteen stories. Below, I’ve listed each of them with how many words each version was going from first draft => second draft => third draft => final draft => published draft.

The Convention

8080 => 11178 => 21414 => 24149 => 23897

Fairy Tale

8045 => 13635 => 19328 => 21281 => 21117

The Sheep Dragon

11016 => 18008 => 23520 => 23807 => 23504

It Takes a Village

8046 => 11611 => 16516 => 17265 => 17144

The Coven Conundrum

8020 => 12004 => 13582 => 15006 => 14894

Academy Days

9098 => 12701 => 15040 => 16772 => 16598

No Good Deed Goes Unrewarded

8008 => 11145 => 16531 => 18500 => 18356

The Prodigy

8081 => 17025 => 22515 => 29236 => 29065

The Invasion

9036 => 14710 => 17001 => 20619 => 20385

It’s All About Collaboration

8060 => 12011 => 14023 => 16890 => 16619

The Worrier

8146 => 10914 => 13501 => 15699 => 15632

A Young Dragon’s Hoard

8080 => 12005 => 13560 => 14859 => 14648

Jungle Safari

8225 => 11009 => 13097 => 16064 => 15832

Fashion and Sensibilities

10108 => 14055 => 16375 => 20814 => 20664

As you can see, every single story experienced a substantial increase in length, with most of them roughly doubling in size. This just goes to show much of a story can be removed if all you care about are the bare bones of the plot and the character interactions. However, few stories are enjoyable if you strip them down to the bare bones. Instead, it’s all of the extra stuff that makes a story fun. Humour, rich descriptions, fun character interactions, engaging dialogue – all of these add length and depth to a story.

In some cases, though, how much got added was a function of things going (or not going) to plan. A Young Dragon’s Hoard was one of the stories that went almost perfectly to plan from how I first conceived it to how it ended up being written. As such, the story doesn’t even in double in length. In contrast, The Prodigy required a lot of additional scenes, planning, and revision before I was happy with it, so it’s not surprising it almost quadrupled in size.

One thing to note is that each draft often takes a similar amount of time to write despite the later drafts being far longer. This is because fixing or improving something is generally far easier than coming up with it in the first place. Indeed, the published draft is often the quickest to write because there are really only minor changes being made whereas the jump from the first to the second draft is often the most demanding since that’s where the big shift from a bare bones story to one with more depth occurs.

Overall, the first draft measured in at 120,000 words. The published version comes in at around 268,000 words. The story more than doubled in length from the first draft to the published version, a huge increase. However, the extra words are where so much of the story’s appeal comes from. The first draft is kind of the ‘summarised version’ whereas the published version is, well, the one the reader gets to actually enjoy with it sounding like an encyclopaedia.

In any case, drafting can be a pretty time consuming process. However, it’s a critically important part of producing a good story. My preference is to start off with something rough and simple before honing and adding to it to eventually produce the published version. That might add a lot of words, but I also think it adds a lot of quality.

If you’re interested in my thoughts on writing and other topics, you can find those here.

I also write original fiction, which you can find on Amazon here or on Audible here.

[gaknar]

Review: The Claremont Crossovers

Geez, I haven’t written a review for this blog since my Secret Wars review from like 17 years ago. How can that be? Well, I guess I used to work on this blog a lot more often and now I’ve gotten way more into Super Nintendo games and BDSM. Like a lot of people. But now that I finally finished reading Inferno, it is time once again to bookend my experience with an overly wordy wall of text filled with the worst kind of oblivious meninist butt humor jokes and pretentious sounding run-on sentences that are trying to sound smart but are always improperly ended with prepositions of. And lots of ridiculous comic book panels.

These are only the silliest panels from this reading that I could find after looking for about 25 seconds.

Bookeeping. This review covers everything that I have read since X-Factor #1. This includes Uncanny X-Men #204-243, X-Factor #1-39, New Mutants #38-73, along with a smattering of annuals, Daredevil, Power Pack, Fantastic Four, Spider-Man, Excalibur, and X-Terminators comics that were all part of the Mutant Massacre, Fall of the Mutants, and Inferno crossovers. There were a lot of developments over the course of the 4 years these comics were published. Jean Grey was resurrected and the original members of the X-Men reformed under the moniker X-Factor.

Mr. Sinister formed his band of evil mutants, the Marauders, who would become the X-Men’s main antagonists, and their most devious act would include committing mutant genocide against the Morlocks in the New York City sewers while dealing critical wounds to main X-Men team members Kitty Pryde, Nightcrawler, and Colossus during the fight.

Later, the X-Men were seemingly killed in a struggle with the mystical being known as the Adversary, but in reality they went into hiding in their new Australian outback base.

Illyana Rasputin lost control of the hell dimension Limbo which led to a demon invasion of Manhattan.

And finally, perhaps most prominently, Cyclops left his wife Madelyne Pryor and their son to get back together with Jean Grey, an act that led Madelyne to become corrupted with Pheoenix Force power and to turn into the Goblin Queen.

This era of X-Men comics contains the first major crossovers between the main X-Men comic book and its spinoffs. These events would become common as Marvel found ways to use its more strongly published works to carry the weaker ones, and the ploy still works apparently since here I am 30 years later reading 500 page omnibus collections just because there are 4 or 5 absolutely killer X-Men comic books in them. I love the X-Men so much that I’m willing to wade through the unending buildup to get the most out of the climaxes.

Seriously this artwork.

However, I find that this style of editing leads to a peculiar trend in pacing that can be tough to recover from in-between the major storylines. As Mutant Massacre leads into Fall of the Mutants, which then leads into Inferno, the characters are faced with consistently increasing stakes. With each passing story line, casualties grow and become more grave, and the consequences are more lasting. Mutant Massacre starts with the genocide of a mutant community, and several main characters are critically wounded as the X-Men face the worst defeat they’ve ever experienced. Then a year later in Fall of the Mutants, just as the team is starting to recover, the entire team of X-Men is killed during their battle against the Adversary. They would immediately be resurrected as a reward for sacrificing themselves to save the world, but it is still a defeat that claims the lives of every member of the team, if only for a moment. By the time we get to Inferno, the world is literally ending. Demons are raining from the sky and regular people are straight up getting slaughtered in the streets and elevators as the X-Men are more or less helpless to stop the destruction.

Inferno is an amazing storyline, if only for all the scenes of inanimate objects coming to life and straight up eviscerating common folk who are just minding their own business. Look at this shit!!! How did the comics code of conduct ever approve this. A mob of people just packed themselves into a demon FOOD PROCESSOR and every inch of them was liquefied except their bones. Chilling. (And let’s just forget about how the writers retconned all this blood orgy stuff in the Inferno Epilogue).

This all works in a capitalistic sense. Constantly raise the stakes and don’t let up for a second because if you do, the reader will take their eyes off the page and you will lose money. But the problem is, you can’t do this forever. And if you try, eventually you are going to write yourself into a corner where you’ve raised the stakes so many times, and you’ve re-manufactured the drama so often, people will stop caring. I call this the Dragon Ball effect.

How many times have these characters become gods at this point? Like three movies ago, the most recent movie was literally called “Battle of Gods.” I’m not even watching Super. Once your characters get so far away from humanistic stories people can relate to, you are no longer creating art. You’re manufacturing sensationalism. And it gets boring. These guys are starting to look like different flavors of freezie pops.

Maybe this is why the X-Men comics that come after this, the comics that make up the last leg of writer Chris Claremont’s 17 year run on the series, become so weird. Because perhaps there was no way to continue to raise the stakes any higher. After this point, we don’t get any more big crossovers until X-Tinction Agenda, but even that story is small and quaint when compared to what is presented here. Wolverine completely disappears from the series, all our other favorite characters disappear into the Seige Perilous to be transformed into completely different versions of themselves, and we get a lot of surreal stories that don’t have any sort of climax in the way that we’ve been conditioned to expect. The series becomes murky and ambiguous, without a solid narrative arc, and I think that’s why people regard the end of Chris Claremont’s writing on the series to be the weakest part of his run.

I can’t wait to read the X-Men comics that are coming up next. Because I didn’t know what in the FUCK was going on in these comics when I was a kid and I’m hoping they make more sense now.

Anyway, I’ll be the judge of all that, once I get there. (I may even indulge in the Infinity Gauntlet omnibus because, you know, there’s a couple X-Men involved in that). But regardless of what comes after this, I think it’s also true that the crossovers presented in this reading are generally regarded with less respect than Chris Claremont’s earlier work on the series, such as the Dark Phoenix Saga and Days of Future Past. This I don’t agree with. While the stories in this reading do range in quality, with Fall of the Mutants definitely being the weakest of the three big crossovers, and even though the Uncanny X-Men portion of Inferno isn’t even the central story of that crossover (the critical story elements take place in the far inferior issues of New Mutants and <ugh> X-Terminators written by Louise Simonson), Claremont’s writing is still much stronger, more layered, and more elegant than anything else that is presented in these collections. These crossovers may not be as timeless or original as the most famous X-Men stories, but the writing here is still really darn good and engaging (at least in Uncanny X-Men), and in my opinion, does not represent a decline in aptitude on the part of the writer. It’s clear that Claremont’s writing has continued to mature and become more nuanced, so much so that when you compare it to the first issues he wrote for the series, it seems like he’s a completely different writer.

KALIDASCOPICALLY. Again, these were just the silliest panels I could find after looking for about 25 seconds.

Personally, I love this period of X-Men comics. Under Claremont’s executive control, no plot thread gets dropped. No minor detail goes disregarded. Characters continue to grow and develop at such a natural pace, sometimes it feels like my own life is developing right alongside theirs. This adds depth to these readings and I can’t describe how it feels to be a part of them, and I think it’s this element that is missing from so many other comic books written by so many other comic book writers, including nearly every X-Men story written after Chris Claremont left the series.

Case in point, there are so many minor recurring characters that appear in these stories, like Franklin Richards. (I seriously tear up every time I see these panels). This little guy bounces around the Power Pack, the X-Men, and the Fantastic Four like a ping pong ball. He’s a key character in the story line where Kitty Pryde finally recovers from the wounds she suffered during Mutant Massacre. And even though Kitty and Franklin have only met each other a few times, those meetings have meaning and they are remembered and called upon in the telling of the current story. All of the efforts made by the writers and editors to keep the narrative linked make these characters seem like real life people with weight and substance, rather than a thin layer of ink on a piece of paper. And it totally works.

Ugh, this review turned into another circle jerk about the writers of these comics, and especially about Chris Claremont. But what can I say. It’s because of the writers that we are here. Love or hate these comics, and I know Claremont’s wordy scripts are not everyone’s cup of tea, but these are the stories that make the X-Men what they are. It’s tough to be aware of these things when you’re in the middle of reading them, but I’m having the absolute best time writing this blog right now, and it is primarily because these are the comics that resonate with me the most. And when I’m finished with Claremont’s material and I’m slogging through some crap written by Chuck Austen, I bet I’m going to look back on these days with envy.

[bgnmagic]

Shining Strong

Summary:

Merlin and Arthur are hunting a beast and things just keep going from bad to worse. Merlin has to use his magic to save them but there is an odd side effect.

Notes:

This is from a melee prompt for Moon.

Also it could be read as merthur if you want. Sorta left is open in that regard. :) Hope you all enjoy!

Work Text:

The sound of rushing water reached his ears first, followed by his feet getting swiftly overrun with the icy cold stuff. They’d run out of time. Climbing down into the depths of this cave had been a bad idea, not that Arthur would have listened anyway. Now, Merlin had to figure out how to save them from the beast they were attempting to slay, and from drowning! What a trip this was turning out to be.

“Arthur! We need to go back; the water is only going to get deeper the further in we go!” Merlin hissed as he held his torch tightly. He’d tried to use a magic orb to light their way earlier, but the King visibly paled at his use of magic so Merlin had reconsidered. Thankful that Arthur hadn’t decided to kill him when he’d found out a few months ago, Merlin was still trying to be careful about how he used his gift in front of his friend.

“Just a little further, I know it came this way,” Arthur replied still focused on the path in front of them despite it filling with water.

“I’m not interested in swimming with it!” Merlin shouted in frustration.

Arthur scoffed and kept sloshing through the waters that were now knee deep. “There’s a bend up here, if it’s not hiding back here then we can go back,” he grumbled.

Why did Arthur have to have a sixth sense when it came to hunting down things? Of course, the bastard had been right. Turning the corner revealed the beast clinging to the rock wall, its red eyes trained on them both. In a flash the thing leapt at Arthur and Merlin barely reacted in time, slinging the beast away with his magic.

The King had his sword out and rushed forward to attack. The blow he dealt did damage but also angered the beast. This time Merlin wasn’t prepared. He’d gone to step in front of Arthur to deflect the next blow with magic, only to be flung quite hard against the rocks. Things devolved quickly after that.

Merlin was dimly aware of the beast continuing its attack. The blurry scene before his eyes was lit only with Arthurs remaining torch. Merlin’s torch had been extinguished, lost to the rising waters.

Wait, rising?

They hadn’t moved so why was there more water?! Suddenly alert Merlin drug himself upright and took a deep breath. Drawing on as much magic as he could muster Merlin pushed back the waters and the beast with it. The reprieve only lasted a few seconds, the water quickly rushed back in around them and the beast howled from somewhere nearby.

“I had it!” Arthur yelled as he slogged over.

The adrenaline coursing through his system prevented Merlin from actually rolling his eyes. “We need to go! You’ll sink in all that mail!”

Arthur didn’t reply but turned to go back. They’d only made it a few paces when a horrid cracking noise erupted. The rock around them was showing cracks and beginning to shift. When the first bit of earth tumbled off Merlin’s shoulder he’d already thrown his hands out. The world paused. The only sound Merlin was aware of was the blood rushing in his ears. His magic was powerful, but using this much at once was trying. Arthur was there shouting at him but Merlin couldn’t hear. His mind was hyper focused on one thing, stopping death from claiming them.

Holding the rocks in place was in of itself a simple task, but the energy it was draining from Merlin was monumental. The water had been temporarily pushed back, leaving Arthur and he standing on a dry island of dirt. The beast was thrashing behind him, intent on causing more harm. Reaching out with his magic Merlin found the beast’s heart and stopped it. Quick and painless and the threat was gone.

“ –lk! Merlin! Can you walk?!” Arthur shouted again.

Willing his legs to move wasn’t working. Merlin was about push Arthur to safety with his magic when he felt something on his arms. Two strong hands were gripping his biceps and guiding him forward. Merlin kept their path dry as Arthur pulled him along. The space was lit with a golden glow, highlighting the errant dust in the air from the slowly crumbling cave walls.

Merlin didn’t know how much time had passed before he felt the push of the earth recede. Then, as quickly as everything had gone to hell it was calm again. The night sky appeared before them from entrance to the cave, and Merlin knew they were safe, at last.

Stumbling out into the clearing, Merlin collapsed to his knees and took a moment to breathe. The woods looked so beautiful covered in dew and shining in the moonlight. The stark contrast to what they had just endured made the sight that much more striking.

“Merlin? What’s wrong? Is the beast still alive?” Arthur asked in a panic.

Why was Arthur worried? Also, when did Arthur get that close? Had he always been next to him in the grass? Temporarily blinking the exhaustion away Merlin managed to look up and hold the King’s gaze. “It –it’s dead. Why?”

“Oh gods, you can’t tell can you--,” Arthur whispered with an expression Merlin couldn’t quite place.

“Huh? Arthur, I’m tired, what the hell are you going on about?”

“Your eyes, Merlin, they are still gold.”

Oh. Shit.

“Sorry, shit, that’s not, uh--,” Merlin gave up trying explain his stupid body and ducked his head closing his eyes so Arthur wouldn’t have to see.

“Hey, hey, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad about it,” Arthur scolded gently. “I just assumed something was still wrong, since, well, since I only ever see you use magic when we are in danger.”

Still keeping his head down Merlin attempted to process things. It wasn’t until a firm but kind grip landed on his shoulder did he try looking up again. “Sorry, I must have used more magic than I realized.”

“Don’t apologize, you saved us. Otherwise, we’d have been eviscerated by that beast, or drown in the water, or crushed to death by rocks, none of which sound the least bit appealing.” Arthur added with a wild look.

Arthur’s tone caught Merlin off guard and he laughed despite himself. This action caused his back to twinge, right; he’d been tossed around like a rag doll earlier. Wincing at the pain he could clearly feel now that his body wasn’t on high alert, Merlin sagged slightly. “I think I’m dying,” he mumbled halfheartedly.

“Nonsense, you’re fine, little rest and you’ll be right as rain!” Arthur exclaimed.

“You might have to leave me here and come back in the morning; I don’t think I can move.”

“Bah, come on let’s head back. I found the beast and you slayed it, our work is done.”

Good thing Arthur had energy because he practically had to carry Merlin to the horses. It didn’t take but a few paces, once they’d mounted, to realize he wasn’t going to stay upright. Deciding he could ride draped over his mare, Merlin was surprised when Arthur halted his steed and made him ride with him. Merlin doesn’t remember much of the ride back to Camelot. Arthur had insisted he ride in front like a maid, which resulted in him falling asleep.

Something lightly tapping his face woke Merlin some time later. Groaning he opened his eyes to a castle turret in the distance. “S’everything okay?” he slurred.

Arthur’s voice sounded from behind, “Yeah, I wanted to make sure your eyes were blue again before I rode through the gate.”

“Are they?” Merlin had no clue; it wasn’t something he could determine without the aid of a mirror.

“Yep,” Arthur answered easily. “How’s your back?”

“Bruised, but I think it’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt to breathe anymore.”

“I think you’d benefit from a soak in a nice hot bath.”

“M’not lugging water around right now,” Merlin muttered nearly about to fall asleep again.

“Idiot, I’d have another servant fill it up for us.”

“Us?”

“What? You think I’m going to go to bed smelling like wet rat?”

Laughing at the image of Arthur with rat ears Merlin finally agreed to the plan. “If you say so sire, but I feel bad for the servants we are going to rouse from sleep to accomplish this task.”

“I think they are already awake Merlin, It’s nearly dawn.”

Groaning at the fact that they’d been out all afternoon and night trying to not die, Merlin closed his eyes once more and feigned sleep. “Do I have to go to work today?” he mumbled softly.

“Merlin, I think you earned a day off this time,” Arthur replied kindly.

Lifting his hand in a small victory wave Merlin tried to gather his energy. He did need to make it inside eventually, a hot bath sounded truly wondrous. Especially if he didn’t have to prepare it!

Right before they dismounted Arthur squeezed his arm and leaned forward to catch his eye, “Thanks for saving us.”

“Anytime, besides I didn’t want to get eaten by that thing either.”

Arthur barked out a laugh as he helped him to the ground. Taking Merlin’s arm and slinging it over his shoulder they both made their way inside. They’d survived, now they could rest, and maybe Merlin could get Arthur to tell him what is was like to see his eyes glow gold for so long. Being open about his magic with Arthur was freeing in a way Merlin had never anticipated.  Maybe his magic would fit into court life better than he realized.