#tend to turn into disconnected collections of anyway

[voluptuarian]

At least once every 6 months I become convinced I just literally cannot write fiction anymore. Considering that's a thing that actually happened with my poetry writing and my drawing ability it's a somewhat concerning idea. Currently in one of these phases now.

[heretic-altias]

FFXIVWrite Day 18 - A Fish Out of Water

As good of an Altais prompt this is, I've touched on her general out place feelings multiple times already so I decided to go back to Kito's early time on the First a little more with this one.

Don’t know my characters? Here’s a basic breakdown to help you out!

~

Kito could not sleep. Others would be quick to blame the unnatural light slipping through the cracks in his window shutters even in the middle of the night. But Kito knew the real reason.

It was too quiet.

Not in a way anyone else would understand. It had nothing to do with the actual sounds of the city. It was all in Kito’s head. Most people were used to silence accompanying their thoughts. Once, long ago, he would have even been grateful for it himself.

But Kito’s bond with Twintania had given them something unique. A constant sense of each others’ presence, feelings, and thoughts that was hard to explain in words. Their souls were connected, their minds shared one space for two identities. It was never silent in Kito’s mind. Even when they pulled as far apart as possible, Twintania’s emotions were always there on the edge of his mind. The ancient wyrms idle thoughts tended to drift slower than his own, the dragons’ different sense of time showing in her very thoughts. Kito had taken comfort in slowing down his own racing thoughts by matching the pace of his mind to hers.

Now though, his thoughts ran free without restraint. And there were so many of them with everything going on. He had been dragged off to an entirely different world, disconnected from Twintania by the distance across the rift, and his brother was here too somehow. Kito had expected the Scions. Not his insane brother Kotah.

Except Kotah wasn’t insane anymore? If that could be believed anyway. He and the Exarch both insisted he wasn’t like that after spending a couple years on the First. Kito found it hard to believe.

“Can’t sleep?” a voice interrupted Kito’s thoughts, causing him to yelp and fall out of bed in alarm.

Once he freed himself from the tangle of blankets that had come down with him, Kito was finally able to look up to see Ardbert watching him.

“Are you going to haunt me when I sleep every night?” Kito demanded with a hiss.

“You didn’t look very asleep to me. You had the look of a man lost in thought” Ardbert pointed out.

“My thoughts are a little lonely these days, is all” Kito admitted, climbing to his feet and remaking the bed.

“Ah yes, you share them all with that dragon don’t you?” Ardbert nodded as he remembered.

“Can you just leave me alone to sleep now?” Kito demanded.

“What’s really bugging you? I can’t do much these days, but I at least can listen” Ardbert tried again.

“Everything, alright? I’ve been dropped into an entirely different world, and for some reason of all the accidental summons the Exarch managed to pick up my crazy evil brother and everyone insists he isn’t evil anymore! And somehow Twintania was left behind despite him being here! The Exarch thinks she only wasn’t brought here because he was targeting a human, but that doesn’t make it any easier to deal with this mess”

“I think I get it. Not all of it, but some of it I get. I was in the same situation when I traveled to your world. Everything was strange and unfamiliar. Had my home not been threatened, I might have enjoyed the adventure. I think all of us would have if we had the chance to” 

“Yeah, that I get. It’s exciting. I think I’d be more excited about this if it hadn’t come with a thousand problems” Kito sighed in agreement.

“Try to enjoy the journey anyway if you can. It’s what we adventurers do after all” Ardbert suggested.

“I plan to try. There were some interesting flowers I wanted to collect, so I might as well start with that. Are you able to leave me to sleep now? I do have a lot to do in the morning you know” Kito smiled.

“I’ll try not to haunt you in your sleep too much in the future” Ardbert agreed warmly.

Kito turned to adjust the bed one final time and when he glanced back over Ardbert was gone.

What a strange situation he was in. On a new world, being haunted by a ghost. 

Ardbert was probably right to suggest looking at it as an adventure. If Kito could slip the extra circumstances to the back of his mind a little more, he might just enjoy this visit to another world.

[whumphoarder]

Quick poll:

When you come across a fic that you think sounds interesting, then notice that it’s like, part 6 of a series, do you go ahead and read it anyway? Or do you feel compelled to read the other 5 parts of the series first, THEN start part 6?

[ladyartemesia]

Yooo your love story straight out seems like an e2l slow burn tumblr fic. Do you have any plans using at as a plot?? I would def read it 👀

I don’t know if I would truly call it enemies-to-lovers because—although I got irritated with him and his behavior and did snap at him from time to time—we were not really enemies. In fact we were barely friends for most of the years we knew each other—

Well.

Ok. So that’s not totally true...

We fought online constantly. From the time we graduated college (where his crush first developed and I routinely forgot his name) the two of us were always fighting on social media—usually about politics—and occasionally about other things but both of us were too smart to ever truly get the better of each other so there was a grudging respect, (his mom said he used to yell at his computer screen about me). We had it OUT several times online even though we rarely—if ever—spoke in person.

My poor sweet boy DID get himself in trouble over me in more ways than one though—even if we’re weren’t close yet...

His college girlfriend set him up to fail asked him who he would date if the two of them weren’t together and he answered immediately—vehemently—

“Viola. I would definitely date Viola if I could.”

🤦🏻‍♀️ (oh...honey...no)

(That would become a huge THING in their relationship. Every time they got into a fight his ex would shout “why don’t you just go date VIOLA then?!”—When he married me he said he felt like a real winner in that particular collection of conflicts. Playing the long game I guess 🤣😂)

Back then I was all about the music/dramatic arts scene and I was dating a string of empty headed pretty boys who bored me nigh unto death because I was young and completely stupid.

In contrast my someday-boo was painfully quiet and shy (though not really with me because he was too busy trying to prove me wrong), but everyone who met him or spoke to him really liked him and respected him.

After college we were were still in the same extended social circle (and—as previously mentioned—fighting online), but I went to grad school and my not-yet-husband decided to chill for awhile and take a job as a landscaper while he figured his life out and... here’s where it gets complicated because...

—that’s where the girls came in. You see... he’s always been a really nice guy... maybe a little too nice 🤦🏻‍♀️

The term fuqboi tends to conjure up impressions of a cocky frat bro who slyly shags his way through a mountain of willing women with disconnected efficiency and a subtext of emotional constipation.

But that would not be the case here.

You see my husband is a listener. He’s an INFP. He, unlike many of his brethren, understands emotions and can really make a woman feel seen. Combine that with his good looks, brilliant mind, and broody nerditude and you have a recipe for women who were ‘just friends’ randomly dropping to their knees (and a lot more) for him.

Never one to stand in the way of a lady’s dreams, pre-me-hubby figured that if they were that determined to (*insert miscellaneous sexy stuff here*) with him then—well—he’d let them.

I mean why not, right? No harm done.

Wrong. 🤬

And here is where our paths truly began to merge (in the real world) for the first time.

As the FOURTH girl (just in my friend group) he graciously allowed (🤦🏻‍♀️) to have her wicked way with him sobbed in my arms, I became determined to put this ridiculous man-child IN his PLACE—this time in the tactile world as well as the virtual one.

...Poor Liz

She realized that he had absolutely no desire whatsoever to be in a relationship with anything other than his WoW account and she was insistent that he had broken her heart.

So I cornered him and we had it out. (Call me meddlesome, but to be fair he was four friends deep at this point.)

The problem was that... the more I talked to him...the more he was not really what I expected... I found myself...oddly...intrigued?

Later it would come out that I was the first girl—ever—that he actually pursued. And I was not even aware of it for like the first three months.

He was pretty slick after all when it came down to it.

That man convinced me to ‘help him’ with women—to make sure he didn’t get himself into another situation where some girl with heart eyes was tearing off his clothes and expecting commitment.

HE ASKED ME TO BE HIS ‘EXCUSE.’

🤦🏻‍♀️(...I know. I’m an idiot.)

“We can hang out. You’ll teach me how to spot if a girl is about to catch feelings and take off my pants. And I will have an excuse when they call as to why we can’t hang out” (—and ...they really were always calling. It was wild.)

....I mean he WAS shy! It SEEMED plausible!

So yeah my dim self agreed to it. (🤦🏻‍♀️)

I considered it a valiant attempt to save the rest of my social circle from the most clueless ‘accidental’ fuqboi on planet earth and maybe even an opportunity to teach him how to be a real human being and what not.

And before you think ‘fake dating’—we weren’t. We were just hanging out as friends. You see when I went to yell at him (and chased him down after he laughed at me and tried to escape) we ended up talking in his car for like four hours. And then that happened like three more times randomly so... I... actually... wanted... to be his friend... 🤷🏻‍♀️

I was still 110% not interested romantically.

Your girl (me) was after some bland banker dude (🤦🏻‍♀️) and so I blissfully fell into friendship with my actual soulmate without a single second thought. And I never worried about either of us catching feelings because I had a crush on someone else and he had heavily implied that I was not his type. (He told me later that I just assumed this and he simply never corrected me 🙄)

I don’t remember falling for him. I never decided to. I never thought about it...

But one day after the whole crew was hanging out at a restaurant (and the waiter kept giving me free drinks which may have pissed my once-and-future man off) the two of us went out to his car to have our customary three hour post-chill chat...

I was teasing him about something—some girl he was still attempting to untangle himself from—and I said—as had become my habit (seriously I said this so many times as a joke)—“It’s too bad I’m not your type—you could just tell her you have a girlfriend.”

(Now. I know what you’re thinking. But I was still firmly on team platonic ok! I was just a flirt. And maybe part of me was starting to feel weird things about him—but those feelings weren’t like anything I recognized so I thought I just needed to cut back on sugar or something.)

(Have I mentioned I’m an idiot?)

ANYWAYS he looked me right in the eye. So serious. And instead of saying “that’s too bad”—LIKE he ALWAYS did—he said—

“You...are my type, Viola... You’re exactly my type.”

To which I responded—“....What? No I’m not. You said I wasn’t.”

“Never said that. You assumed.”

“You LET me!”

—followed by a good ten minutes of me having an existential crisis/yelling at him for allowing me to believe he didn’t find me attractive and lulling me into a false sense of security. He was infuriatingly unapologetic.

At the end of it all he asked me to give him—give us—a chance.

And I agreed to go out on a few dates with him (mostly to prove to myself that there was nothing there).

(🤦🏻‍♀️)

The only thing I ended up proving was that I was wrong about what I wanted and even more wrong about what I needed.

You see...

Those weird feelings turned out to be love.

(🤦🏻‍♀️)

And it was a really special experience to sit in a room full of girls who had cried in my arms over him—girls I had lectured repeatedly on the dangers of his heartless ways— and admit that I was his girlfriend.

🤦🏻‍♀️

Love was—and continues to be—nothing like I expected and frankly I couldn’t be happier.

... to answer your questions

1. I have considered writing a fic based on our story called Broken Road. The title is taken from an old Rascal Flatts song that—as insanely cheesy as it is—really reminds me of us. Don’t know if I will actually write this. Thought about it a lot though.

2. Tags I would use for this story?

#enemies-to-lovers / #idiots-to-lovers / #college au / #outgoing!fem reader(me) x shy nerd!accidental fuqboi / #reader is also a huge nerd actually / #she’s just a loud one / #frenemies-to-lovers / #the love is requited / #they’re just idiots / #pining (his) / denial (mine) / #reader has terrible taste in men / #except for that last one / #she really redeemed herself there at the end

[yannowhatigiveup]

My One And Only - Chapter 17

Previous | Next | Master List

I have posted this chapter and I have had as much sleep as an insomniac can get. After next chapter, maybe, I’ll get to the scene that I have been wanting but also dreading to write so that’s something.

"...You're Ladybug, aren't you?"

————————————————————

Marinette's eyes widened, she didn't expect Alya to come to that recognition but as she gave it a second thought, it made sense. Luckily the pain in her chest had subsided so she could think clearly. The bluenette turned away from her best friend, nodding her head.

"Oh my god. You're Ladybug, my best friend is Ladybug!" Alya gasped, the situation truly hitting her, "Oh god you're Ladybug, the same Ladybug that got stabbed! Oh my god Mari are you okay?!"

The bluenette took a few long breaths before answering. "Yeah, I will be"

The aspiring reporter shook her head, "No, what happens if that happens during class? You might not have enough energy to stay conscious! I'll go tell Miss Bustier to let us off for today then we go to Damian's since he's the likely candidate to be Noir" Marinette knew not to underestimate her best friend's capabilities but she couldn't help but be stunned at her accurate conclusion. Hesitantly, she agreed and only after the bluenette was safely escorted out of the bathroom did Alya make her way to their classroom. After what felt like an eternity, though was probably only a few minutes, the amber-haired girl returned. "Come on, let's go get your stuff"

Once her belongings were collected, the two left the school building and towards the Grand Paris. While one hand was steadying the bluenette, Alya had her phone in the other. 'Texting Dami probably' The walk completely silent, but it was a comfortable silence. The aching in her chest would certainly appear in her voice and she didn't want to worry her best friend more than she already was. Marinette also knew that Alya was waiting to reach to hotel room before she asked questions, a good hero never discussed trivial matters out of the mask when it wasn't necessary, and Alya was definitely a good hero.

Soon enough, they arrived at the hotel and made their way to Damian's room. The green-eyed boy greeted them as they went inside, taking Mari from Alya so that she could lean on him. Once all three occupants were safely secured in the room, their three kwamis came up to check on their guardian.

Tikki's voice came first. "Marinette! Are you okay? I tried healing it but it didn't work I'm sorry"

"It's not your fault Tikki. It's oka-"

"No! It's not okay, Marinette! You're in pain! Plagg, Trixx is there anyway to get rid of it?" The red kwami anxiously floated towards her fellow companions.

"It's was caused by Hawkmoth" Plagg supplied. "Only Nooroo can remove his magic"

Damian hummed thoughtfully while Alya, though less panicked, was still slightly alarmed. There was still one question that left unanswered. What were they going to do now? Marinette's train of thought kicked in. 'We might have to expand our team sooner than expected...'

"What's the plan?" It was Alya who spoke, the reporter recognised the look of thought on her best friend's face.

"I think... I think we need to bring in more heroes" the bluenette replied hesitantly. "I'll give it some more thought before we bring anyone in"

Alya nodded. "Say, do you think I should practise my illusions? I could try to make them more fluid and realistic" Marinette approved for Alya to practice and watched Rena Rouge jump from rooftop to rooftop. The bluenette turned to her boyfriend.

"I'll look at the copy of the Grimoire, maybe it'll reveal a way to heal me, or subdue the pain at least." The blue-eyed girl blinked as an idea popped in her head. "Why don't you join me? You tend to pick up on things quite quickly so maybe I could teach you how to read the language of the guardians"

Damian sat on the chair, gently pulled Marinette on his lap and peered over her shoulder, looking at the digital copy of the book on her phone. "Learning an ancient language could be interesting"

~~~

The green-eyed boy chuckled ever so slightly as the bluenette kept whining about how he managed to pick this up much faster than she did when Master Fu taught her. After some time, Marinette decided to go check on Rena Rouge in her hero persona, she took one of Damian's hoodies before leaving, though. This went unnoticed by the owner but not by his kwami. Plagg snickered at Marinette's sneaky antics before asking, demanding, for some Camembert. Damian ordered a selection of cheese to see if there was a substitute to the stinky cheese, there was no way he would go around smelling like a used sock. The black kwami didn't complain since it means he would have more cheese. As Plagg was eating somewhere in the hotel room, a ringing sound came from Damian's phone. Thinking it was one of his annoying brothers, he left it idle for a moment before reaching to answer the call. It was a face time request. From Jon. Pressing the accept button, Damian placed his phone on the coffee table while waiting for the call to connect.

"Hi Dami!!" Was what was first said when the call finally connected. He didn't necessarily like the nickname, it was reserved for Marinette and Marinette only.

"Hello, Kent" he replied, his eyes briefly glanced over to the black kwami in his room. Then he remembered something that Marinette had mentioned momentarily.

Marinette had pulled her phone out from her purse and pulled Damian in for a picture, Tikki on her shoulder and Plagg on Damian's head. Wanting to make her happy, Damian let his lips twitch ever so slightly, having a small smile, one that his family would scarcely see, on his face.

"Don't the kwamis appear on camera?" He asked when she had finsihed. The bluenette turned to smile at him.

"Their magic prevents them from being recorded or heard on camera, so no" Marinette grabbed her phone back from where she returned it. She handed it towards him where the picture was shown and sure enough, there were no kwamis insight.

"Magic never fails to impress me"

The bluenette giggled. "I know"

"So how's the City of Love? Found anyone yet?" Jon's tone wasn't in a teasing manner, like most of his brothers would usually have, instead his voice held genuine curiosity. Again, Damian noted how much Jon would act like an excited puppy.

"It's adequate" He stated simply, he purposefully didn't answer the second question. Unfortunately for him, Jon managed to pickup on the fact.

"No. Freakin'. Way. You found someone! What's their name? What're they like? Do you have a crush or you and them together? Wh-" His voice was cut off by the sound of Damian's hotel door opening. He was thankful for the interruption before realising it was Marinette who entered, wearing his hoodie.

Completely forgetting that Jon was on call, Damian turned to the bluenette. "Is that my hoodie?"

Marinette, noticing Damian was speaking in English, switched to English as well. "I may have taken it as I left but you have no proof" She made her way to the couch, hugging her boyfriend from behind before noticing the boy on the phone. "Oh hello!" She greeted.

"Woah! Hi! Are you Damian's girlfriend by any chance?" The big wide smile that appeared on his face when she confirmed his suspicions, could rival her own. "What's your name?"

"Marinette"

"It's nice to meet you Marinette! I'm Jon, Dami's best friend!" He reminded her of Adrien, both had excitable personalities and they were both enthusiastic rays of sunshine.

"Self-proclaimed" Damian muttered under his breath.

Marinette, though having a smile on her face, jabbed the green-eyed boy in the ribs with her elbows, "Be nice, Dami"

"My name and nice are not usually in the same sentence" He smirked at her offended expression.

The bluenette huffed as she folded her arms across her chest. "Well when you're with me you're much more than nice"

"Well you are my girlfriend, it's hard not to" Marinette shot a playful glare at Damian, which was by no means intimidating in the slightest. "Such as right now, I feel like I'm being intimidated by a cupcake"

The blue-eyed girl's cheeks dusted with a light pink before she turned her head towards something in the room, muttering incoherently. Damian couldn't pick up what she was saying so he pulled her into his body, her begrudgingly leaning into the embrace.

Jon could tell that Damian had gotten soft and was completely smitten for the noirette. In all honesty, he was happy he could find someone like her. Despite only briefly talking, he could tell she was a pure soul. "Well I gotta get going. See you lovebirds later!" And the call disconnected.

"You're best friend seems like the cheerful type"

"Self-procla-" A soft pair of lips on his own cut off the words he was about to say. He didn't mind, he was just annoyed that this was a very convenient way to get him to shut up.

"Self-proclaimed or not-" Marinette began after she pulled away "-you still care about him greatly, much like you do with your brothers."

"You always try to think of the best in others" He muttered, his voice muffled as he placed a kiss on her temple. "Where's Cèsaire?"

"She returned to school, hey do you want to get something to eat while I'm still here?"

"Sure"

~~~

The two had sat down in the dining area, both scanning the menu for something that caught their eye, when an akuma made it's presence known. The couple quickly came to the the scene, the Akuma seemed to be a ten year old girl. Le Chien and Rena Rouge were quickly to arrive as well, with Le Chien providing the information on her backstory.

"Apparently, from what I heard, she got ridiculed for getting a participation reward" The dog-themed hero supplied, eyes dropping ever so slightly. "Poor her"

"If we deal with this swiftly, we'll be able to help her" Ladybug called upon her lucky charm and was given a long, spotted javelin. The spotted heroine noticed how the girl's weapon was also a javelin, just with a more pointier end. Her eyes darted all over the scene, first to Noir who was duelling the Akuma, then to the two heroes at her side. Quickly formulating a plan, Ladybug turned to Rena Rouge. "I'll need you to create illusions of the two of us, we'll able to confuse the Akuma and while it's confused-" The spotted heroine turned to Le Chien. "-you'll be able to identify the akumatized object"

Rena and Chien nodded while positioning themselves to attack. Ladybug, javelin in hand, joined Noir in the duel. Rena joined too after a music note was played and many clones of the hero team were created. The Akuma, however, was tactical and had managed to narrow it's opponents down to the original trio. This was when the main part of her plan was to take place. Ladybug slowly distanced herself from the fight, sending a signal to Noir to get him to do the same.

Once noticing her signal, Noir took action. "Rena, fall back" The fox-themed heroine shot a shocked look at the black cat hero before hesitantly obliging. With all three heroes equal length away, the Akuma struggled to decide who to get rid of first, Ladybug had other plans. Using the moment of uncertainty to her advantage, the spotted-heroine charged at the Akuma, knocking the Akuma's javelin out of their reach with her own. While Ladybug was in the air, jumping over the Akuma, Le Chien had not a moment to spare.

"Fetch!" His boomerang lit up and he threw it at the Akuma with great force, the glowing boomerang snatched one of the many medallions resting on the Akuma's body before returning. A purple butterfly emerged as the dog-themed hero threw the medal on the floor.

A spotted yo-yo was quick to capture the fluttering creature. "Gotcha. Bye-bye little butterfly" Once freed from it's magical imprisonment, a white butterfly emerged. Javelin in hand, Ladybug threw it in the air, erupting into many magical ladybugs. "Miraculous Ladybug!" Once the ladybugs subsided, all four heroes fist pumped.

"Pound it!"

They were interrupted by the sound of three miraculous beeping. Sharing a chuckle, the superhero team parted ways, Ladybug and Noir leaving together of course. They arrived to the sound of Damian's phone being bombarded with notifications. With a sigh, the green-eyed boy went to check what the messages were while Marinette brushed through her hair. He hummed.

"What is it?" The bluenette asked, placing the brush down on one of the cabinets.

"Your uncle released his album, the song you provided the vocals for has already reached number one in a few countries" Marinette blinked in astonishment.

"I- already? Wow..." She couldn't really figure out what to say. In her defence, what do you say in reply? "Hang on, wait I'll be back" The girl left and Damian decided to occupy himself by rereading the digital copy of the Grimoire that his girlfriend had sent him. It was quite a simple language once you get used to it, most of the symbols were shaped similarly and it was quite an easy concept. Around twelve minutes later, Marinette returned with a few boxes. "I brought some of the things I made for your family. I thought it would be best to give it to you now before I forget"

Damian removed the weight in her arms while smiling. "Thank you, Angel"

"Anytime, also-" The bluenette took something that was hidden behind her back, since she had an oversized hoodie it was easy to. "-I made this for you" It was a hoodie of her own design, ever so subtly Robin themed.

Putting the boxes near his suitcase, Damian walked back over to Mari, delicately handling the woven fabric almost as if he were in fear of ruining it. The green-eyed boy slipped in on, it fit like a glove with a little bit of leniency to provide warmth. Turning back to the bluenette, Damian found her analyzing the piece of clothing in him, as if looking for mistakes needing to be fixed.

"Does it fit okay? Is it comfortable? Do you like the design?" Marinette kept rambling on with questions about the artwork that he was wearing. Walking closer, he enveloped the bluenette in a hug, her face buried in his chest while he stroked his fingers through her midnight hair.

"Thank you, Habibti. I am very grateful for this gift, but you really didn't need to make me one"

She looked up at him and huffed. "I wanted to and besides-" her arms snaked up his chest and made their way around neck, her fingers lightly tugging on the hairs on his nape. "-it looks good on you"

He hummed, his hands trailing down to her waist, "if it was made by you, it's bound to be" The green-eyed boy placed a slow but heartfelt kiss on the forehead. "I'm not sure about you, but I'd like to listen to the completed song"

Marinette whined but went to get her phone anyway, Damian chuckled at her antics before returning to the pages of the Grimoire he was reading. In the background, he heard the plucking of a strings instrument followed by chimes from what could've been a triangle. The genre itself wasn't what first came to mind when someone mentioned 'Jagged Stone' but the man was fully capable of creating great songs in any music style. His point was further supported when Marinette's voice echoed through the music. Damian unknowingly smiled as he listened to his beloved's voice, but something else caught his attention. Flicking through the pages, the green-eyed boy came across a page relating to both the Ladybug miraculous and the Butterfly miraculous. Briefly scanning the ancient letters, he caught the bluenette's attention.

"Angel, did I translate this correctly? If I did then..."

Marinette, intrigued, came over to peer over her boyfriend's shoulder and found him looking on a page she hadn't seen before. She scanned it hastily, her palm covering her mouth as she finished. Damian looked over at her expression, meaning that he had translated it correctly.

"...I believe I found a way to subdue Hawkmoth"

———

Taglist: @little-bluestar,@miracleofadisaster,@frieddonutsweets,@jjmjjktth,@genderfluidmoma,@starlit-dreaming,@icerosecrystal,@lolieg,@kashlyn, @mochegato,@eggadoodle,@walkingthroughonautopilot, @toodaloo-kangaroo,@lady-bee-fechin,@weebjai1

[akisata-moved]

a little bit of divine worldbuilding 🕊️

hi everyone! i said i would make a post about my angel worldbuilding and the lore surrounding it, so here we are. let's get into this!

(as a forewarning: this got really long really fast. sorry lol)

i. at the beginning of the universe: what's the deal with god, heaven, and hell?

you know... this guy. ...or, guys? i use they pronouns for god, not because they're nonbinary rep or anything but because the classic collection uses they pronouns for god because they are literally plural. so, multiple guys.

a. the universe's first inhabitants 🌟

we can't have angels (or anything, really) without god. so... what is god?

to put it simply, "god" is a small collective of beings that hail from a primordial race of creatures called aeons. contrary to popular belief, "god" did not create the universe as a whole.

that being said, they WERE the first beings to exist in the universe; gifted with near-immortality and the power of creation, they were essentially burdened the cosmic purpose of bringing the universe to life. think of them as... like, demiurges, really. despite being the first beings in the universe, they didn't really start popping up until ~370,000 years into the universe existing.

(whether or not there is a "supreme" being above them isn't something i've given TOO much thought to. my working idea is that the universe is quite literally a supreme being in itself.)

so, our "god" is not the only ones of their kind. there isn't a large amount of them, but considering the size of the universe and how it's ever-expanding... there's enough of them to go around, you know.

as the early stages of the universe progress, they start to become aware of the existence of each other. it's difficult to be what is essentially a god and be unaware of the presences that surround you.

the attitudes that they held towards each other varied from aeon to aeon. some of them worked in tandem, others remained solitary. some of them competed with others, and others dedicated themselves to watching over their corner of the universe and making it a home.

there weren't many "overstepped boundaries" in the infinitely expanding stretch of space they had at their disposal. in the early stages of the universe, there was no need for that kind of thing. they all mostly stayed in their own lanes.

during the early epochs, they mostly just spent their time experimenting, growing and changing, and learning the ins and outs of their little cosmic playground.

due to the nature and scope of their abilities, and their immortality, they were mostly aware that their exploits were relatively infinitesimal. they had a very acute awareness that every planet and galaxy they created would eventually crumble.

similarly to their attitudes towards each other, the attitudes they held towards their creations varied. some liked to stay disconnected, and hopped from creation to creation, moving on as soon as they finished working on their little project. others were more involved.

in regards to their abilities, they aren't omnipotent. in fact i wouldn't even really call them omnificent. if there was a way to describe what they were able to do, it would be... transmute? the universe provided all the materials for creation, and so it was their job to use their divine power to... make something with it, really. they can't create something out of absolutely nothing. there has to be something for them to make stuff.

they also don't really have any kind of set moral compass. so none of them are inherently evil, good, bad, whatever.

of course, given the fact that they mostly reside in space (we'll get to what exactly "heaven" is in a little), they aren't necessarily bound to one physical shape or form. we love shapeshifters.

b. the devilman "god", and the prison of light 🕯️

the devilman "god" is a trio of aeons who bonded over a certainty and awareness of what they wanted from the universe. they strove to create something perfect— something beautiful. better than every other creation out there. other aeons' work was... sloppy, imperfect, and quite ugly.

as stated before, the aeons aren't necessarily physical beings. that makes it really easy for them to fuse with each other, as they aren't really bound to any kind of physics or laws governing their consciousnesses and bodies.

"so are they a hivemind" not necessarily? they're all just... fused together. the pros of fusing together like that means that one single entity now has the power of three aeons, which lets them do a lot more than if they were all separate, and on a larger scale. god is a throuple

they probably aren't the only aeon group to do this, honestly.

fun note: the devilman "god" never refers to themselves as another aeon. they always refer to themselves as a "god", and it's mainly just because they think they're better than the rest of the aeons lol. i'll be referring to them as god from here on out just because it's easier.

so, then what? god decides that they need a place for themselves. a pocket of space only for them (+ eventually, the angels). they needed a home base of sorts, a place that represented their vision as they imagined it. and so, they created heaven.

so what even is heaven? it's essentially a sub-universe, or a pocket of the universe that god hid away just for themselves.... and for the angels, which were created afterwards.

once again, i doubt heaven is the only realm of its kind. i doubt that god is the only aeon who had the idea for a "home base" of sorts.

heaven started out as a home just for god, but as angelic society grew, it eventually turned into a whole kingdom. that being said, god still has a palace Just For Them at the very top layer of it!

people don't go to heaven. nope. that doesn't happen. mainly because it's not an "afterlife".

after god created heaven and the angels, heaven because a home for all of them. heaven was created to be perfect (in the eyes of its creator), or as close to perfect as god could manage while also having a species with (sort of) free will residing within it.

heaven is almost like a hidden galaxy, except a LOTTT smaller.

heaven is mostly made up of clouds and solid energy. there are actually five layers of heaven; one for each sphere of the angelic choir, one for the Archangels, and one for god.

that isn't to say that the angels are confined to one layer. they can freely travel about, it's just that they'll usually spend time in the layer dedicated to their sphere, unless they're stationed to work elsewhere.

the need for more and more angels became more important as time went on. god became more... power hungry, and they fell harder into the belief that they alone were the ones worthy of the universe. they eventually gained a very hostile attitude towards other aeons and cosmic societies. this wasn't unheard of, really, but considering how most of them stayed in their own lanes, having god be all... aggressive was a little bit of a shock. needless to say, this resulted in the formation of enemies... and other forms of cosmic politics.

heaven and angelic culture has a lot of emphasis on architecture! ...although, not in a way you would expect. the best way i can explain it is that it's very... suess-like.

lots of staircases, lots of columns, lots of... that kind of thing...

while we're on the topic of sub-universes, we can talk a little about hell, too.

hell was actually created by the universe itself, not by the aeons or god or anything. it has always existed, and is sort of a universal collection all life and souls. sorta like the universe's garbage can for all dead things.

it’s less of an eternal resting place and more of an intermediary location you go while the universe works to basically recycle your soul and convert it back to its original state.

ii. what is an angel?: a little on angelic society

a. the angelic choir at a glance📜

angelic society as a whole is referred to as the angelic choir.

the main thing about angelic society is that it's split into different spheres based on how much power an angel has/the specific task they were made to do.

why do angels exist in the first place? they were made to be servants of god, and basically do everything that they do... for them. so, deliver messages, be soldiers, do tasks and chores and watch over the things god makes... all that kind of thing.

angels have free will, but were created with an ingrained sense of duty that usually outweighs said free will. or perhaps it influences their free will. hard to tell. that being said, most angels will not do anything if it directly contradicts their purpose.

also, angels are not inherently “good” aligned. like I said, they have free will, which means they have choices. angels can be shitty people! whether or not an angel “falls” has nothing to do with what their character is like, and everything to do with whether or not they are defiant to God.

not a lot of angels do defy god, either. an angel being kicked out of heaven is pretty rare.

anyways, back to the angelic choir... there are three spheres of angel, each with three types of angel in them. the highest ranking angels are the first order of the first sphere, and the lowest ranking are the third order of the third sphere. yeah.

in the first sphere you have the seraphim, cherubim, and thrones. the first sphere angels are the only angels that tend directly to god.

the second sphere is made up of the dominations, the virtues, and the powers.

the third sphere consists of the principalities, the arches, and the angels (generic term).

Archangels are above the first sphere in rank. they're the most powerful angels, and there aren't very many of them.

b. archangels and the angels of the first sphere🔥

Archangels, as stated before, are the most powerful angels and the ones with the most important duties. they're mostly angelic supervisors that manage angels with different specialties. who are the archangels? before lucifer's fall, there were eight different archangels.

jophiel (archangel of wisdom and inspiration), chamuel (archangel of divine justice), gabriel (archangel of revalation), raphael (archangel of healing), uriel (archangel of truth and light), zadkiel (archangel of healing), and, of course, michael (archangel of strength and courage) and lucifer (archangel of love and empathy).

the first sphere angels are the angels that are closest to god, and the only ones that can interact where with them directly. they're the least... replaceable angels, except for the archangels. that's why they don't really leave heaven.

the seraphim are the bodyguards of the throne, and those who directly guard and protect both god's palace and the different layers of heaven itself. they're stationed just about everywhere on the fifth layer of heaven, and then scattered about in the other layers just to keep an eye on everything. they're also stationed at the entrances and exits.

they're busy a LOT of the time. they take their jobs very seriously.

the seraphim are the angels that interact the most with god. the cherubim and the thrones do, too, but not as frequently.

the tradition when interacting with god is to cover their faces and bodies with their wings when interacting directly with them. it's a sort of humbling thing, to show that they regard themselves as lesser than them. just out of respect.

the cherubim are the celestial recordkeepers of heaven, and the ones that really hold the knowledge of god and heaven.

they're known for their wisdom, and they keep records of everything that happens in their part of the universe. nothing goes undocumented, really. heaven's historians are also cherubim.

along with keeping records of events, they also keep track of all of the angels that are created, and those that come in and out of heaven. and those who go out and dont come back. yeah.

jophiel is the archangel who supervises the cherubim.

the thrones are some of the most intellectual angels and have wonderful minds. they serve as both teachers, guides, and counselors for the lower ranks of the angels.

they're the ones in charge of receiving orders from god and dishing out duties to the lower ranks (dominations, mostly) and explaining them. celestial teachers, really. they're very engaged with the rest of angelic society, and are always willing to offer an explanation or a helping hand to other angels.

they're also the head order that deals with cosmic laws and making sure everything that god makes works the way it's supposed to. god doesn't really have time to keep everything in check themselves, so it's up to the thrones and the virtues to make sure their creation... functions like it should.

lucifer was supposed to the archangelic supervisor of the thrones...? but, uh... that didn't exactly.... uh.... work out....

after lucifer was cast out, jophiel was put in charge of both the thrones and the cherubim. it's a lot of work for one angel, really, but she doesn't mind.

c. angels of the second and third spheres☄️

the first order of the second sphere is the dominations. think of these guys as... well, management.

they're in charge of managing the angelic kingdoms, and of regulating the second sphere angels in lower orders.

they help keep everyone organized. there's a lot of things to keep track of.

the dominions get their orders from the thrones (who receive orders from god), and pass along orders to the principalities in the third sphere along with the virtues and powers. it's just a big chain.

zadkiel is the archangel in charge of the dominations rank. he also deals with some of the stuff that the principalities handles, but mostly sticks to dominations.

the second order of the second sphere is the virtues. if seraphim are the guards and watchers of heaven itself, then the virtues are the watchers of the universe (well, god's part of the universe, anyways).

they watch over everything god creates, from planets, galaxies, luminaries, and other celestial bodies to make sure the cosmos are in order. and that nothing is going wrong.

they work closely with certain thrones angels for this reason.

it's actually very important to make sure shit isn't going wrong. especially considering how their god's... hostile attitude... attracts some not so friendly faces.

uriel is the archangel in charge of the virtues, and because of the close ties between the virtues and the thrones, he quickly became good friends with lucifer.

the powers are the third order of the third sphere, and they make up the angelic army.

can basically be split into two groups— soldiers and healers. the soldiers were originally led by chamuel, but the job was pretty much taken over by michael once he showed up, and chamuel instead switched gears to deal more with strategizing after that. raphael supervises those more geared towards healing.

running an army is hard work, turns out. there's a lot that goes into it.

the third sphere is the most populous sphere; they're like worker bees. they're very easy to replace, and are very expendable.

third sphere angels actually leave heaven a lot. they deal with intergalactic relationships.

in the first sphere, the principalities are the main managers of the lower-ranking arches and angels. they're very similar to the dominations in that regard, and they actually get their orders from them. like i said before... it's a big chain.

they're the ones that are stuck dealing the most with cosmic politics.

arches are celestial envoys, while your everyday angels work as messengers, running back and forth between heaven and other places in space. angel postal service!

the angels and arches are also assigned most of the mundane tasks not given to any higher ranks.

usually the angels go out in groups, because there's safety in numbers, and space is REALLY big. at least one arch will accompany an angel group, and on occasion, a principality will come too, depending on how important things are.

that being said, there have been many, many instances where angels don't come back. sometimes they get lost. this happens more often than it should.

gabriel is the head messenger archangel. he's the postmaster. angel. guy.

d. okay i'll bite. what are angels made of. aka, angel physiology 🌠

angels are special. lol.

they're made of photon energy (in the case of most angels) and thermal energy (in the case of seraphim).

(lucifer is an Archangel, so he is... as stated above, made of photons.)

as stated before, god can't create something out of nothing. the energy needed to create angels actually is specific to the energy emitted from dying stars. every angel comes from the death of a star.

so, this means a couple of things. first of all, as angels are created, not born, they don't actually have a functional reproductive system. because they weren't created with the intention of reproduction. the genitalia is decorative essentially tbh. also, every angel looks like this. it's definitely not a reproductive thing. it's entirely aesthetic.

"romance" is essentially nonexistent in angel culture. uh, they all see each other as some kind of equivalent of siblings, considering they were all made directly by the same creator. they all refer to god as their parents, and so they all see each other as siblings.

(that being said, it's not like they're incapable of love or anything. ryosatanlucifer retains his feelings for akira even after he turns back into an angel, so it's not like he can't feel love or anything like that. i mean, that should be obvious, but i felt the need to specify anyways)

the second thing this: angels lack all forms of physical sensation. their bodies are... kind of numb to all sense of touch, taste, smell, etc. they are, in some circumstances, intangible. what does that mean? well...

sorry for having so much stuff from go nagai world.... we never got to see satan in the actual ovas </3

they can float through stuff sometimes. their tangibility (on earth) is actually up to them. so, for example, if they wanted to, they could float through a door. or they could open a door by turning the doorknob. though, they wouldn't be able to experience the sensation of actually touching the doorknob.

anywho. there are actual a few variations of angelic appearance depending on what rank of angel they are! i have... erm... drawn a few examples of some of the angels, but not a whole lot? ahh.... there they are anyways. some of the descriptions are a little outdated bc i've changed into since then but YEAH!!

Archangels, at the very top of the angelic choir, are beautiful with 12 large snow-white wings— two on the head, two from the shoulderblades, two on the middle back, two on the lower back, on on each arm and one on each ankle. they’re all nearly identical- though, most of the angels within each order looks nearly identical. they’re identical in the way that cats of the same coat color and breed are identical. michael and lucifer are actually identical, though, because they’re like real life twins, and are born from the same star. yeah!

seraphim are made from condensed thermal energy rather than light energy. they’re super hot. Lol. they have 10 wings (head, shoulders, lower back, arms, and ankles) unlike the Archangel’s 12. They’re warmer in color scheme than the Archangels, which are usually a sort of yellow-white color? they glow. seraphim are more red-orange because they’re… heat. They also have the ability to manifest flames out of their body, though it’s kind of just for show considering how it can't really do anything.

the cherubim are covered in eyes. or, their wings are covered in eyes- they have 8 of them! wings, I mean (head, shoulders, lower back, and ankles). they have way more than eight eyes. Also, they can open eyes up on their bodies when they get really stressed or angry! it’s a fun neat cherubim trait. all the cherubim are so tired. let them go home please.

the thrones are the third order in the first sphere of the Angelic choir, and these are our ringy-boys. they're the angels with the most emphasis on halos- they can make them spin really fast and manifest more rings around them whenever they feel strongly or honestly just when they want to. they’re usually surrounded by them, just as a sort of status thing. they typically serve as messenger angels (delivering orders to the second sphere) and bodyguards for the cherubim. they have 6 pairs of wings (head, shoulders, and lower back).

from there on out appearance is mostly dictated by sphere— second sphere angels (dominations, virtues, and powers) have two sets of wings (on the head and the shoulders), while first sphere angels (principalities, arches, and angels) have only one set of wings on their shoulders, and look pretty similar to the standard depiction of angels.

e. some more about angel culture in general

i just wanted to share some more fun little details about angel culture, because there IS stuff beyond work for these guys lol

society is really easy to be sustained when there's no need for "hard labor", and when everyone is created with a sense of purpose. and the fact that they don't really need to eat or anything.

since there isn't much of a need for extra work outside of everyone's Assigned Jobs, when there is free time, it's mostly dedicated to the arts. there's actually a LOT of focus on art in angelic culture!

though, it's a lot less... genuine? than "human art". the idea of "perfection" is heavily exalted in angelic society, mainly because that's what god wishes for, and god is the One Real Authority in their society. a lot of angelic art tries to reflect this idea of perfect beauty that they've had drilled into their heads from the beginning of their existence.

of course, perfection is unachievable for the angels. so sad.

art that depicts any kind of "flaw" is entirely unheard of. angels are the ultimate perfectionists.

since none of the angels actually LOOK at god (the archangels and first spheres cover their eyes with their wings when they come in direct contact with them), a lot of art is actually of god. it's always sort of a contest to see how perfectly and beautiful they can depict god. it's a form of worship, really.

they do have a written language. but "novels" aren't really a thing. they aren't super big on fiction. what's the point of that?

instead, they use written language to keep historical accounts, archive events, and write PSALMS. so so many psalms. they really love to write music dedicated to praising their god.

"music" in quotes, because it's... not exactly comparable to human music. it's angel music, guys. cmon.

they also like writing poetry a lot.

because of the way they worship perfection in art/writing, things end up feeling a little bit... sterile? yeah.

obviously, since they are in space, they don't use any kind of timescale similar to days/hours/weeks/etc. there's a sort of "day" equivalent in which things are a lot... brighter? but that's really it.

angels don't age, either. they have no concept of age.

they do have another consistent method of keeping time, though, and it's based on how long it takes for angels (third rank of the third sphere) to be created. lower rank angels are really being produced at a constant rate, to make up for losses, so it's easy to divide time this way. the time it takes to make one angel = one angelic "day".

they don't really have any equivalent of years, instead naming longer periods of time (ages) after whatever archangel was created last. so, the age of gabriel, or the age of uriel.

when michael and lucifer were made At the same Time, the cherubim got into a lot of arguments over who to name the age after. it wasn't like there was any way to choose between the two.

so they just decided on both eventually. lol. they called it the age of lucifer and michael.

after lucifer well, a new Age started. so the age of lucifer and michael and the age of michael are two separate time periods.

michael is sooooooooooooo cocky about that, too. what a bitch.

anyways, like stated before, the idea of perfection is super important to angels. to them, god represents the ULTIMATE perfection.

and on that same note, talking bad about god, and going against god's will, is a very big NO!!!!!!. they REALLY do not do that.

.......okay!!!!!!!! whew!

that was a LOT, but if you read all the way through... mwah! thank you so much for listening to my thoughts!!!! i might make a separate post about lucifer's history/his relationships with the other angels/his fall later on. but for now.... here's just some basic stuff about angels and how they work!!! yeah!!!!!

[partytilfajr]

Salaam! My question is that since I'm in my mid-twenties and I'm starting my marriage search soon (I'm a woman) I want to know if i can ask the person I'm getting to know about their previous relationships? If they're a virgin? All of that stuff basically. I read that if they've repented for their sins they don't have to answer these questions or they can just lie and say no since they've repented, but as a potential/future spouse isn't it my right to know?

Wa alykum as-salaam!

So, Dar Al-Ifta Al-Missriyyah has written about this question, extensively, though it must said that the question they are answering is about a man asking about a woman about her status. You can read that answer here.

They write something that is important to note, as I want to underline that many times we fuse the rationale of larger society with the opinion of our Muslim leaders. In the opinion, they write this to conclude:

As for the claim of some men that they have to know if their future wife has fell into a sin or not is a corrupted opinion as it promotes declaring sins, revealing what God concealed, pursuing people’s pitfalls, and thinking ill of people which are all prohibited in Islamic law. As a matter of fact, there is no relationship between the loss of virginity and between adultery as this relationship only existed due to some cultures which do not see any problem when the man commits adultery whereas when the woman commits the same crime she is stained with shame and disgrace.

I just wanted to highlight that this double-standard that exists for women underlines to problems of our societies, and that Islam does not seek to enforce or encourage the hypocrisies that pervade society.

So, in short, yes, you should not be asking people about their status. The only time that people should be disclosing those sorts of things is if it impacts you. So, if someone has an STI, that will impact their partner, and so it should be disclosed.

I am quite aware that the standards for men and women are different, to put it kindly.

Boys expect their future wives to be virgins, while girls hope that their future husbands don’t have something. This is the double standard within our communities (Muslim or not) and it’s exhausting and annoying. I get it.

So Dar Al-Ifta, again, gives you the legal rationale, and again, they are writing about protecting the reputation and the value of a woman, since cultures have used sexism and misogyny to control women’s bodies and to stigmatize women for mistakes that they turn around and applaud men for.

My sense is that we have used this ruling as a way to protect sisters, but that we do not expect to use these same rulings for our brothers. I get why we do that, it’s an Islamic ruling that retorts and slaps away the sexist-fueled obsession with women’s bodies and the double-standards imposed upon women.

If I’m honest, I think most men tend to disclose these sorts of things, and many of them are not aware of this ruling--not anywhere close to the awareness of our sisters. I understand why sisters expect virginity, they’re like “hey, I waited, so should you.” I’d like to underline that there are more brothers that have waited, I’m not going to lie to you, I did not think it would be that high. Which is kinda sad, but I think you get what I’m trying to say.

Now, again, I think most people tend to disclose their pasts, both men and women, and I think they do this out of trust and love for the person they are talking to. I would counsel Muslims to not only take this sort of disclosure as a trust that they should keep to themselves and understand that whatever happens between you two, that you keep that information to yourself. I also think that both men and women tend to write people off for making mistakes.

First of all, we all make mistakes. The issue here is that we only have sympathy for people who sin the way we do. To be a “good Muslim” among Muslims, you don’t drink, don’t smoke, and don’t have a (public) girlfriend/boyfriend, and you’re a good Muslim. Our concern is centralized on discovery, so as long as people don’t know we do these things, we are fine.

We all make mistakes, the thing is, we are not defined by our mistakes, but what we do once we make them. Do we seek to rectify them? Or do we allow them to fester, do we seek help, do we try to fix what we’ve done?

The problem is that we fixate on sins that deal with our concerns vis-a-vis our place in society. The Prophet is reported to have said:

O those who embraced Islam with your tongue and its flow did not reach your heart yet. Don’t inflict harm on Muslims, don’t belittle them and don’t pursue and dig for their pitfalls as whoever digs for the pitfalls of others, God will dig for his own pitfalls and declare it before people… [Tirmidhi]

Now, I know you feel it is your right to ask this question. The ruling I’ve linked above. Just to speak plainly, I tend to believe people disclose this fact, regardless of the ruling--that’s just my sense in dealing with this concern quite often. I’d underline that you treat a brother as a human being here. Our world is filled with prejudices, sexism, misogyny, and all sorts of inequities too innumerable to list here. Of that, there is no doubt. When you are sitting across from another person, they are a human being--and yes different people benefit from these inequities and have various privileges--but I suggest that you treat the person across from you as that: a person.

We cannot abstract human beings. Our boys benefit from double standards--in that they are able to get away with things socially--but those double standards condemn them to facing the reality of their sins. Brothers cry to me about their mistake, it’s not just sisters, and yes, the brothers (if discovered) will face far less than if a sister was discovered, I am not questioning that, nor am I even debating it, I’m saying, just treat the person across from you as a human being.

People are going to ask and people are going to answer, but I ask you to show compassion for someone who is offering you a window of their vulnerability. We often look at potential spouses as products, with check-lists, like we are comparison shopping for a car. They are human beings. I’ve seen the dumb stuff boys write on Twitter, with their dumb jokes, talking about trust issues over a girl wearing makeup or whatever, and yes, they are cringe. I will try and petition Al-Azhar to make corny bro jokes haram, or at least makruh.

You are going to ask regardless of what I write here, and people are going to answer regardless of what they read, because they want to be honest, and it breaks my heart. People just want to be loved. That’s why they are reaching out. It’s why they laugh at dumb jokes. It’s why you stalk people on social media, because you want to reach out to someone else, to have someone love you and accept you, for, well you.

So I get why people respond and answer these questions, I know why people ask them, and I think the Islamic answer is there, and while the central framing of the Islamic answer is to protect women, their honor, and their place in societies that do not treat them with the respect and understanding that they should get for simply being a human, and that disconnect is violently enforced through sexism and misogyny--and Islam seeks to protect women from that human-made reality that contravenes the dictates of Islam. It is a failure of the test by God, on our collective society, that we create these inequities--for God demands justice, and our social norms are reflections of whether we truly believe in God or not, and when women face these barriers and prejudices, it means that our society has failed that test.

After writing this much, I asked myself: ‘why are you writing this much, Osama?’ I think because I have seen such a lack of compassion in our community, and I feel like we have taken religion and twisted it, but we are only aware of our rights and not our obligations, and that creates a very twisted way in dealing with religion and God--and then I thought about how consumerism fuels that self-centered understanding of God, so that religion really only has value as it pertains to our personal desires, rather than in improving our actions, softening our hearts, and in introspection so that we may work to improve society, starting with ourselves.

Anyway. My point is this: regardless of the rulings, you’re probably going to ask, they’re probably going to answer. If you can’t forgive someone because they made a mistake, then ask yourself why.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Protea (Part 11)

Snapdragon is unusually snappy today and Mai isn’t sure what it is. She supposes that the girl has to have at least one bad day eventually, Mai just wishes that she knew what was causing her poor mood.

She wonders if someone had discovered her factory and tried to take it from her. Or if one of her brothers had stolen something from her stash. More likely, she considers that someone at the palace had said something to her again, to make her question her hobbies.

The more Mai ponders it, the more she thinks that it is true. Though she continues to shamble up to her nest and acquire more things to toss into her steadily growing trash hoard, the woman’s face is curiously less smudged, and her hands are usually clean. As clean as they can be given that Mohi doesn’t have the sort of water that the palace does.

She finds the woman tucked away into her hoarding nest, fidgeting with a golden ribbon. She wraps it around her pointer, unwraps it, and warps it again. She isn’t sure that Snapdragon is staring at it at all.

“I thought that I’d find you up here.” Mai remarks. “That ladder is getting more unstable.” She shudders.

Snapdragon shrugs. “It’s fine.” Her voice lacks it’s usual spark and her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. Mai rubs her lips together before ultimately deciding to reach for the woman’s hand. Once she finds it, she feels Snapdragon’s fingers tighten around her own hand.

Quietly, Mai hold’s her hand to Snapdragon’s cheek, stroking it with her thumb. “The flowers should be here soon so we can open up the shop again.” She isn’t sure if this will cheer her girlfriend up any. “That’s exciting, right.”

She thinks that Snapdragon’s smile is more genuine this time. She nods, “Sounds nice.”

.oOo.

Nice isn’t exactly the word she is looking for, she is actually quite thrilled. Snapdragon does like the flowers and she thinks that Azula does too. They are soothing for Azula where they are joyful for her.

Her head hurts. She supposes that she will have to see which emotion wins out when the time comes.

“What’s going on, Snapdragon? Don’t tell me that those uppity nobles got to you?”

There is a nervous sort of twitching and fluttering in her belly, “what makes you think that something is wrong?”

“You haven’t been acting like yourself lately.”

But that is just it. She is acting like herself. For the first time in so long, she is acting like herself. Just not the self that Mai has grown used to. The self that she, herself has grown used to. “What do you mean?” She asks anyways.

“For one thing, you’re talking differently…”

The fluttering intensifies. For all of her confusion there is certainty. It comes in that Mai can’t know that she knows who she used to be. There is certainty in that Mai would hate her all over again if she found out. She doesn’t want to lose Mai a second time. The fluttering reaches a peak recalling the moment when the woman had drawn her knives, the moment she had been ready to turn them on her. It had hurt the day that it had happened...it is unbearable to think about now. Now, when the hand that had wielded the blades  is gently caressing her cheek in loving little strokes.  

“Where are your dirt smudges?” She traces her fingers along the spots on her cheeks and forehead most prone to mud and grease.

She isn’t sure how to tell Mai that she no longer likes the feeling of dirt smeared on her face and that her skin is crawling now that showers aren’t as regular as they had been at the palace. She thinks for a moment. “I like  how it feels to be clean.” She says.

Mai tilts her head.

“I don’t mind getting dirty but I like smelling nice and feeling clean. My face feels less...stiff.” She replies.

Mai nods, “Have you never taken a bath before you went to the palace?”

Snapdragon thinks on it. And in doing though she thinks that it is safe to say that Snapdragon-Azula has never take a real bath before. She shakes her head. “Unless the lake counts.”

“You haven’t even gone to the communal bathhouses?”

Snapdragon shakes her head. This is another thing that she and Azula share; neither of them enjoy public bathing. Too many eyes, even if they aren’t focused on her. “I don’t like those. The lake is better.”

Mai chuckles. “Alright, I guess that, that makes sense. You’ve never been fully clean before so you didn’t know that it was something that you liked.”

Some of her tension eases away. Perhaps she is overthinking things. Perhaps, even without Azula creeping back in, Snapdragon would have enjoyed being cleaner.

“So what’s bothering you?” Mai asks again.

Snapdragon shrugs. “I just...I don’t feel well.” She makes a note to try to be happier. She will lose Mai if she can’t muster up the same spunk and enthusiasm that Snapdragon had.

“Do you want to stay at the palace again?” Mai offers.

Snapdragon nods. She can use another bath and Mohi could use a break from her antics.

.oOo.

She feels significantly more like Azula when she is wearing her own robes. She feels, perhaps more powerful than Snapdragon has been allowed to feel. Granted she still gets glowers and glares. They still look down upon her. Save for Yora, they don’t want her here. She is a nuisance. A dirty nobody. Inferior.

It makes Azula’s blood boil in a way that Snapdragon had been able to laugh off. It brings color to her cheeks. A sense of shame that she can’t seem to shake. But then, this had bothered Snapdragon too.

“They just aren’t used to people like you.” Yora mentions as she takes a comb to Azula’s locks.

“Uncultured peasants?”

“Kinder souls.” Yora corrects. “People who are easier to be around.” She takes a deep breath. “They are so used to being surrounded by other people who are pampered and spoiled that they don’t know what to do when someone like you comes around. Someone who is fun and carefree.”

Azula wishes that she were fun, carefree, and kind.

“Innocent.” Yora adds. “Though they tend to try to take advantage of innocence here. I like you, Snapdragon. You’re a good person. It is nice to groom someone who isn’t barking orders and particulars.”

She is offended and comforted all at one. She knows that Azula is picky, prone to particulars. And she supposes that she hadn’t been kind about it either. She feels horrible for having banished the one servant who is now being kind to her.

“How is this?” She holds a mirror up for Snapdragon to observe. She has been avoiding them since the return of her memories. And her reflection is now just as jarring as she had anticipating. Jarring because she knows that it is not truly her own. And yet, it is, she has seen it daily for such a long time now. She is both used to this body and disconnected from it. It is familiar and foreign all the same. She knows that she should be looking at a different face. A face that she sees everywhere in the palace but the mirrors. She isn’t sure why Zuko has kept portraits of Azula. Her head hurts all over again.

“It’s nice.” She answers.

“Are you alright?”

“Headache.” She replies simply.

Yora nods, “I’ll take you to the guest room. Unless you’d like to sleep in the princess’ room again. Mai mentioned that it was too open for you?”

She wants to sleep in her own room, “I just need…”

“More pillows than any one person should have a right to use?” Yora quirks a brow.

She nods. Yora has always caught on quick. Snapdragon’s stomach lurches again, the memories are hitting her left and right. They come back suddenly and overwhelmingly. She thinks that it might not be a lie that she is feeling physically ill. At the very least, she is truly feeling dizzy and hazy.

“Yora!” Ami snaps. “You were supposed to be helping with the laundry today. Forget about the commoner and do the job that you were meant to do.”

“I was just going to get her some pillows…”

“Extra pillows  are in the servants quarters, down the make a left and then another left. You’ll see them.” Ami says to Snapdragon. “Get them yourself, Yora has work to get to.”

“Where is Mai?”

The woman scowls. “With the firelord. She doesn’t have time for you. And neither does Yora.”

.oOo.

Snapdragon doesn’t collect her pillows.  She wanders hazily back to her room torn between storming back up to Ami and letting her know who she is dealing with and flopping down on her bed and trying to process everything.

She lingers in front of her bedroom door. She still feels so small standing before it. Perhaps she should go fetch herself the pillows, the nest was rather comforting…

“You must be Snapdragon.”

She tenses. This voice. She knows this voice. And it pulls at strings in her mind. Pulls more memories to the surface. Memories that Snapdragon can’t brush off.

She turns around and nods, “I’m Snapdragon.”

But she isn’t in this moment. In this moment, she is very much Azula.

“My name is Ursa.” She smiles. It is such a warm smile, it makes Azula feel sick and tearry. “Can I help you find something?”

“I was going to get some pillows.”

“I can fetch one of the servants.”

“Yora is busy, apparently.” Azula grumbles.

“Ami?”

Azula nods. Once upon a time, the woman had been her favorite servant…

“Follow me.” Ursa gestures. “You can take as many pillows as you want.”

.oOo.

Her mother is a sweet woman. She helps her perfectly arrange her circle of pillows and blankets. “I used to do this with Zuko all time.”

She had never done so with Azula. She tries to imagine what that would have been like. She shakes her head, she doesn’t have to try to imagine it; “I think that this one would look nice over here.”

Azula almost laughs. The woman is making an art of building pillow nests. Azula almost cries. She has the same inclination to make her pillow nest look prettier, more organized. She moves the pillow to where her mother had suggested. “Perfect.” She says.

Ursa nods in agreement. “I can send fpr Mai and with two cups of hot tea--three if you don’t mind me staying. I don’t think that a pillow nest is complete without tea and a story.”

“Do you have a story?”

“Many of them?”

Both Azula and Snapdragon want a story, even if it is for different reasons. Azula wants what has been deprived from her for so long and Snapdragon simply loves exciting tales.

.oOo.

For a moment apprehension leaves Azula. With candles to softly light the room and tea to warm her throat, she is comfortable. Very much so. She snatches up one of her pillows and hugs it to her chest as Mai props herself up against her.

Her mother smiles. It might be the one thing that Azula has done that she approves of. And perhaps it is only because she is looking at Snapdragon. Snapdragon who stirs excitedly when storytime begins. It takes her to a new place in her mind. A place with dragons and adventure. Though she supposes that her whole life has been an adventure, especially now that Snapdragon had taken control.

By Agni, she just hopes that Azula can keep the love and spirit that Snapdragon has.

She clutches Mai as tightly as she clutches the pillow. She isn’t sure how long she will be able to do so. She just knows that she can’t let go yet. She can’t lose Mai again. “Now this is more like my Snapdragon.” She hears Mai mutter.

[sazorak]

Every Game I Played in 2020, Ranked

2020. Boy, what a garbo year huh? Didn't actually play that many games this year all-in-all. Happens! My backlog is getting pretty big, but I just find it hard to focus on games when I could be working on something. Or put off working on something, as it may happen to be at times.

My arbitrary decision from years ago to only attach a numbered ranking to same-year releases is getting increasingly silly, especially given my propensity to wait on playing games until I’m in the right mood, but whatever. That order matters than the dumb numerical numbering anyway.

2015 | 2016 | 2017 | 2018 | 2019

Later Alligator – 2019 – Steam – ★★

The style of this game is very cute, and the jokes are funny enough. But… ok, look, I’m not one to be precious about what is or isn’t a game. But this really isn’t a game. It’s a series of disconnected, unrelated challenges clipped from Atari Free Mini Game Collection 100, wrapped in a very non-interactive adventure-game. It’s cute, it’s kind of sweet, but it’s dull. Dull dull dull. There’s a pointless, mandatory sliding block puzzle early on that infuriated me by its mere existence. Them giving the ability to skip it because “wow you’re bad at this huh”, which, while accurate, also just sold the whole point meaningless of the “““interactive experience”””.

Also: when a huge part of your game is WOW WE ANIMATED EVERYONE REALLY GOOD, text boxes that reveal word-by-word, far away from the animations that occur when said characters talk? Kind of stinks!

8. Carrion – 2020 – Steam – ★★

What Carrion does well— the whole “You’re controlling The Thing and just rippin’ people apart!” shtick— is really neat. They made that bootleg The Thing animate real-ass good.

The actual game as a whole though? Kind of garbage. Imagine a Metroidvania with zero actual exploration, where every opportunity you have to venture off the path instead results in immediate railroading with constant, utterly inexplicable one-way pipes. It’s not that it’s linear, it’s that it actively slaps you when you attempt to explore. It’s very frustrating! Add the fact that the tentacle-monster-shtick makes challenging to actually, y’know, move around and control all your bits…  the only reason I finished the game was due to foreknowledge of its extreme brevity.

I think if the game were more open and less obsessed with constantly handing out upgrades, as well as having less of a focus on pure combat, I think I’d have enjoyed it more.

SD Gundam G Generation Cross Rays – 2019 – Steam – ★★

It is well documented at this point that I am both an active Gundam fan, and as well as an on-again-off-again tactical RPG aficionado. A SD Gundam game appearing on Steam with a good English translation and localization is… exciting, to say the least. That said, I have never had much context for this game series beyond the basic facts that the combat tended to be pretty well animated CG, and that it’s vaguely similar to Super Robot Wars. Turns out… it’s really different from SRW? I dunno how the rest of the series fairs, but Cross Rays is weird as hell.

For one, there’s zero tutorialization at all. None. Almost all of what I’m going to explain here is me figuring stuff out by trial and error, or by reading junk online. Gundam is insanely popular, you’d think they’d be interested in explaining how it all works, but… nope. Even Super Robot Wars has multi-level introductory bits for new folks to show them the rope these days.

So: Cross Rays is a tactical RPG where you can playthrough the storyline of various Gundam AUs. You can play through them in any order. These playthroughs are fairly literal translations of the stories. You take control of the lead mecha from those series, fight enemy mobile suits that show up in SRW-like tactical RPG combat, until all reinforcements cease. Pretty straight forward. There are occasionally mission variants like “prevent enemies from reaching X” or “prevent enemies from destroying Y”, but even those can be just reduced to “kill everything very quickly please.”

But here’s the thing: while there is a story progression, the characters in the story itself actually have no character progression. These characters and mecha are actually considered guests, despite it being ostensibly their story. Instead, you are able to field “permanent” mecha and pilots of your own choosing, which do have progressions. There is no plot justification for this or anything like it. The game does not recognize that it’s weird that during Iron-Blooded Orphans intro where nobody knows what a Gundam even is, you can have 25 Gundams show up at once and just fire lasers at everything. That’s because this game is actually about repeatedly grinding the same set of missions over and over.

Pilots are recruited by completing certain in-mission requirements. Mecha are acquired by either by getting enough kills with the progression-less “guest” mecha, combining mecha you already have gashopon-style, completing certain quests, or by leveling up mecha and then “evolving them”. This is the actual core of the game.

SD Gundam G Generation Cross Rays is basically Disgaea, it turns out? You’re grinding story missions at various difficulty levels in order to complete missions, try to recruit specific pilots, equip them with stats and levels to make them stronger, and then hitting mecha together in a sort of quasi-SMT fusion system until you get all the powerful mobile suits you desire.

The combat itself is kind of… bland? There’s a lot of systems, but they mostly seem in service of making an already easy game easier, or burning through tedium. There are four different difficulty modes, because there’s not actually that many different missions you can play through. The expectation is you’ll just work your way through every story beat while ramping the difficulty up over time to where the “guest” mecha would not be able to handle on their own. In fact, letting the story mecha act out the story beats is actually bad after a point, unless you’re still trying to get those lead mobile suits, or if you’re trying to complete some mission requirement in order to recruit Named Wing Grunt Pilot #246.

There is something to the notion of “I want to get N and N and N and N on a team, piloting weird but powerful mobile suits, and just solo every Gundam AU in a row,” but the whole premise seems kind of against purpose. Why bother recreating story beats at all, then? It’s not like the game even acknowledges any of that going on.

If the point is that I’m supposed to be, like in other grind-heavy tactical RPGs, breaking the systems to my own end in order to proceed… why not make the missions you play challenges focused towards that? The story progression literally only exists to facilitate the mission-based unlock conditions, which makes all the energy put into making them JUST LIKE THE ANIME really damn pointless.  

I like tactical RPGs, I like breaking RPG systems so as to beat hard challenges (I beat all the insanely hard extra bosses in FFXII for crying out loud), I looooove Gundam. I should like this. But I don’t really have the “god, I NEED TO FILL THIS LIST” gene that some folks have… except as an excuse to continue to engage in gameplay I enjoy. The gameplay here seems in service of the collection, rather than the way around.

7. Pokemon Sword: The Isle of Armor – 2020 – ★★★

Pokemon’s first foray into actually doing DLC is… a mixed bag. As a positive, they’ve improved the Wild Area concept I liked from the main game, and even brought back buddy Pokemon walking behind you. That’s neat. On the other hand: the actual progression in it is completable in like an hour, it doesn’t scale with you, so you’re bound to be over leveled for it, and all the raid stuff, while still conceptually neat, is just as flawed as in the base game. And so, you’re just left with even more new Pokemon to RNG grind on to continue to catch-them-all. Nah, I’m good.

Astral Chain – 2019 – Switch – ★★★

Platinum knows how to make good character action games. They’ve made a bunch of them. Bayonetta, Nier: Automata, Metal Gear Rising: Revengeance. They also know how to make some kind of mediocre character action games. Transformers: Devastation, Wonderful 101, their various shovelware character action games like Korra. Astral Chain falls somewhere in the middle, I guess?

Astral Chain has all the production of their good games. It has some stylish, cool action. It has a neat core mechanical idea, in that it’s essentially a two-character action game where you control both characters at once. It has a lot of the old mechanics from some of their best games brought in; witch-time last second dodging from Bayonetta, Nier’s shooting-and-slashing combination, the Zandatsu mechanic from Metal Gear Rising, even Wonderful 101’s multi-unit shenanigans. The setting is different, and there’s some neat world flavor all in all.

But, of all games I’ve played over the past few years, Astral Chain made me more vividly angry than any other. It’s not that it’s too hard— far from it, really, I found its combat incredibly mashy. No, the problem is that it has so many shitty mechanics slathered on that it become a chore to get to the “good bits”.

Why would you put forced stealth sequences in your character action game, especially when your movement controls are not suited for it?

Why the HELL would you put platforming sections in your character action game, constantly, especially when your stupid ghost buddy can accidentally yank you off the edge, your auto-combos can just throw you off the edge, or literally anything can knock you off the edge and make you lose life?

Why would you put so many constant excuses into the world to force me use the digital sensor in the game, that also makes it miserable to walk around while using it?

WHO THE LIVING FUCK THINKS THESE SHITTY BOX BALANCING MINI-GAMES ARE FUN???

These games are supposed to encourage me to perfect everything, right? Why keep putting fucking fights you need to complete in order to get an S rank behind backtracking, or Legions I don’t have yet? That isn’t adding replayability, that’s just wasting my time. There are even in-level missions that have fail conditions that you never even know about. Surprise!!! A lot of them involve chasing after guys and catching them with your chain, which is really obnoxious to do!!!! SURPRISE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The story is just Bad Evangelion, straight up. Every story beat from Evangelion is here, executed worse. They also make your character have a twin just so they can have a character who can talk and feel emotions, because your boring-ass protagonist is stuck being an emotionless audience cipher. Cool!!!

Tetris Effect – 2018 – Origin – ★★★

It’s drugs Tetris. I personally don’t use, or have synesthesia for that matter. I imagine this game is better if you do. It’s an enjoyable enough experience but it feels incredibly slight for what I was expecting from it, or even compared to something like Lumines, which has tons of replayability by way of its difficulty. Tetris just isn’t that hard, unless you’re forcing yourself to do weird shit to get points. I WILL NEVER LEARN HOW TO T-SPIN. Never.

Castlevania Anniversary Collection – 2019 – Steam – ★★★

Kind of an unremarkable Castlevania collection. Neat that it has an official translation of Kid Dracula in there, but also… look, I prefer Metroidvania Castlevanias, OK?

6. Spelunky 2 – 2020 – Steam – ★★★

I’m not entirely sure why this doesn’t click for me where Spelunky 1 did. More annoying intro levels? Too many fiddly requirements for different ending-progression? Gameplay additions that just make things more annoying? Spelunky 1 was hard, but there was a kind straight-forwardness to it, even with its weird secrets, that made it much easier to grok and continue banging your head against. I’m just not having as much fun with this. Difficulty should be challenging, not a hassle.

5. Stellaris: Federations – 2020 – Steam – ★★★

This is the year that Stellaris just broke for me.

Federations itself is a good DLC; it adds some really interesting mechanics tied to various types of multi-national unions (the titular federations, as well as the Space UN), as well as the addition of unique “origins” that allow you to further specialize your gameplay. The origins in particular are a great addition that allows more specialization and roleplay.

I’m just tired of the sheer amount of busywork Stellaris forces you to do. Every DLC adds more junk you need to keep an eye on, and the fact that the AI doesn’t even bother with it (compensating with copious economy boosts in order to keep up) makes the whole thing frustrating. It’s like playing fetch with yourself; you just get tired of chasing after your own ball after a point.

I have to wonder if they’re pivoting towards a notional Stellaris 2 at this point? Might not be a bad idea for them, though it is weird with all they talked up adding more origins when Federations came out.  

4. GranBlue Fantasy Versus – 2020 – Steam – ★★★★

This is probably the fighting game I got most into over the past few years. There’s just this nice, almost Street Fighter-esque ease of execution to the controls, and that Arc Systems Works 3D-as-2D style continues to just do work. I don’t give a single shit about GranBlue Fantasy (frankly, I think I’d enjoy this game more if it wasn’t attached to a property) but the characters are fun enough to play and look at.

The big problem here is two things: no crossplay, and no rollback netcode. In the span of a month, this game became a total ghost town on PC, and it doesn’t sound like PS4 faired that much better. 

Ring Fit Adventure – 2019 – Switch – ★★★★

I’ve fallen on-and-off this game all year. At its heart: it works, it’s a fun exercise game. I don’t think it really feels like a “game” (in the sense that I’m not really coming to it for riveting gameplay or anything) as much as just a guided exercise experience, but… that’s fine? The in-game story is kind of flat, but funny in the fact of it existing at all. Buff Nicol Bolas and all.

XCOM 2: War of the Chosen – 2017 – Steam – ★★★★

XCOM2: War of the Chosen is a great answer to what XCOM2 struggled with. As I discussed back in 2016 (Jesus Christ), XCOM2 tried to push against player’s worst instincts by incentivizing them to keep being aggressive through a whole bunch of timers— which, kind of just weren’t fun given how much accidentally walking into an ambush could “ruin” dozens of hours of play. War of the Chosen dials that back in some intelligent ways, by instead making the encounter designs themselves, as well as much more grab-and-bail mission types, encourage players to push ahead instead. Smart!

The addition of the Chosen makes the game feel more alive, and they really do make missions harder— particularly early on. But they’ve somehow accidentally fell into the hole, where XCOM just… isn’t that hard? Early on it’s challenging, particularly with the resource restrictions and all. But they keep giving you more and more options (that aren’t especially meaningful choices) that make your team more and more powerful, without increasing the strength of the enemy as time goes on. By the five-hour mark, you basically know if you’re going to steam roll the game or not.

The amount of additional character and variety in the gameplay is great, I just wish it had a more challenging difficulty curve. Maybe make the meta-layer of when enemies show up more targeted to where players are at. If a player is doing well, ramp up the difficulty, if they’re struggling, pull it back a bit. I should always feel like I’m just barely keeping ahead with XCOM, not like I’m bored. And by the end of War of the Chosen, I was kind of getting bored, really. Oh well.

3. Animal Crossing: New Horizons – 2020 – Switch – ★★★★

This is probably the video game that I spent the most time with hours-wise this year. I’m not entirely sure why? It’s a nice evolution of New Leaf, in that the crafting, environment shaping, and general quality-of-life improvements made are quite nice. There’s clearly been some thought on how people play these games, and ways to make the experience less frustrating.

… and yet, they kept so much tedium in the game. Like yes, the schedule stretching is the point, I get it. As someone who for some reason decided not to play with the clock, I only just recently finished the fish, fossils, and insects for the museum. But there’s just so many weird, little things that just make it hard to keep coming back to it. It’s like… to what end? When I’ve unlocked everything, and basically seen the entirety of the item list at this point, and the holiday events all being the game meaningless collectathons…. Why? I’m not going to try completing the collection; the museum stuff is about my limit, really (and even the paintings I can probably pass on).

I guess even an idealized, digital representation of a quasi-domestic life has the spiritual emptiness of consumerism-for-consumerism sake. Thanks???

Hypnospace Outlaw – 2019 – Steam – ★★★★

I grew up on the internet of the early 00s. I had an AngelFire website, mostly consisting of shitty sprite webcomics and hosted Gundam pics. I remember when Google wasn’t really a thing and you would heavily rely on website compilation sites like the Anime Web Turnpike in order to find anything of value online. It was weird, it was wild. It was exciting!

The internet seemed so different back then. There was a ton of garbage online, but also, like… there was a sense of optimism to it. Folks were shitty, there was plenty of bad stuff online, but it felt so disconnected from the fabric of the physicality of real-life that it was at the same time a perfect escape.

I was young when I first got “online”, something like 12. I remember having this notion that the internet was going to be this great equalizer, that it had infinite potential to change how people behave and interact. Boy, huh.

Hypnospace Outlaw is essentially a splendid alternate universe GeoCities recreation, where you’re a volunteer moderator of a grouping of websites on HypnOS, an internet-analog you access while you are sleep. At the surface level, it’s mostly about poking around the weird alternate-historical version of the internet they created, full of kids feuding, bizarre historical divergences, and plenty of amazing bespoke weirdness. All of this is great; there’s an incredible amount of content that’s just great to poke at, listen to, and explore.

Below the surface, there’s also a rolling plotline about the ethics of this industry-owned platform, those who run it, and the way corporations handle new technology, new platforms, and emerging digital societies. There’s a late game turn that’s pretty damn affecting. And as someone who has moderator his share of internet forums in his time, trying to balance ‘do it for the community’ and what your ostensible ‘bosses’ require of you, it was kind of a weird throwback in more ways than one.

Minecraft – 2011 – PC – ★★★★★

Turns out, Minecraft is really as good still who knew??? Started playing a bunch more of it this year due to Giant Bomb deciding to do so, and yeah: still good!

2. Hades – 2020 – Steam – ★★★★★

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again— Supergiant makes damn good games. I’d been holding off on checking out Hades until its full release due to my tendency to burn out on games easily, and I’m glad I waited. Hades is a fantastic rogue-lite experience. The way it makes narrative progression part of the reiterative, randomized rogue-lite structure is just perfect.

It’s got all the usual Supergiant bullet points. Great characters, voice acting, narration, and music. In terms of gameplay, it’s probably their least ambitious game— playing something like a cousin to their original game, Bastion— but it’s also been polished to a mirror sheen. It just feels really damn good to play, over and over and over.

That being said, the second (final?) ending feels kind of…. Tacked on? It’s fine as a goal to go for while continuing to do the game’s relationship mechanics for additional story bits, but it ends up feeling kind of unfulfilling compared to the payoff of the first one.

1. Crusader Kings III – 2020 – Steam – ★★★★★

I never could get into Crusader Kings II. Despite my interest, the sheer mechanical heft and unintuitive interface made the game a wall that I just couldn’t get over. I’m sure if I’d dedicated myself I probably could have learned it, but… ehhhhhh.

Crusader Kings III, on the other hand, has a good tutorial, a cleaned-up UI, and a very helpful highlight and tooltip system that make it much easier to understand how to actually play the game through resources inside the game itself. And, as it turns out: I rather love this game.

I mean, conceptually it’s an easy sell, isn’t it? Historical politics is something I enjoy broadly. I liked Stellaris but wish it had more narrative, roleplaying elements. They outright say that “winning” isn’t really the point of the game. Instead, it’s more about emergent storytelling and playing with the different systems and seeing what you can do with it.

My current game has had me taking the Haesteinn dynasty from its Viking origins into England, forming a London-seated Northern Sea Empire that encompasses all of Britannia, Iceland, Holland, Norway, and Denmark. I am currently working on hegemonizing Norse religious control over enough Asatru holy sites to finally reform the religion, such that more unified feudalization can occur. To that end, my current ruler’s predecessor invaded West Francia and conquered the whole of its territory, substantially reducing the foothold of Catholicism in mainland Europe… which seems to have kicked the hornet’s nest, given the Crusade I’m going to need to contend with next time I boot up the game.

Of course, a complicating matter is that my current ruler— the Emperor of the North Sea, King of Ireland and the Danelaw, liege of the King of Denmark, was elected from the extended Haesteinn family via Thing, the Scandinavian council of his erstwhile vassals. Where the previous emperor, the one who manufactured the invasion of Francia, was quite religious and beloved for his adherence to the old ways, I discovered as I took over as his successor that he really, really is into just boning down across Europe. We’re talking constantly attempting to seduce neighboring Queens and Princesses. His vassals are not thrilled with this. They also don’t care for his propensity for torturing people to death, constantly.

I had no real say in this; attempting to stay on top of a dynasty is kind of like riding a bucking-bronco, so many things are only tenuously under your control that some weird shit can happen. This is especially true when you use the systems that make it easier to maintain the coherency of your domain. The Norse religion encouraging concubinage results in you having a lot of kids, which means there’s a lot of domain partition going on (someday, primogeniture, someday). Naturally, using Thing election reduces that, but also makes you sometimes end up having to play Emperor Stabbo-Fucko because they thought he was the best candidate at the time. Hell, I thought he was the best candidate at the time until I discovered just how many people he’d be laying with on the low. But you just have to roll with it.

The way the game forces you to play ball with character traits is great. Doing things that match with the character’s traits makes them lose stress. Doing things against their character increases stress. Too much stress can force you to make the character take up vices (which can make them suffer health or opinion maluses, as well as altering their aptitudes), or even die outright. And sometimes those vices and attitudes can be boons, given they open up opportunities for different character interactions.

Emperor Stab-and-Fuck-Kingdom is perhaps the most relaxed person alive, it turns out, because his sadism makes him really enjoy sacrificing infidels, which makes the gods happy. It also freaks the fuck out of all of his vassals, so they’re a good supplicant mix of both appreciative of my religious sentiments and also utterly terrified of my skull piles. Some especially brave vassals occasionally try to assassinate me, but my lovers keep jumping in front of the knife and saving my life mid-coitus. Iiiiiit happens! :D  

The game can be incredibly fun to just watch, as it becomes emergently weird. Georgia right now is incredibly Jewish in game. I’m not sure how that happened; I guess someone made a random Jewish guy into a vassal, who somehow moved up enough in the world to make it a movement? The Byzantine princes elected a Coptic as Emperor, which over the course of the decade resulted in very accelerated balkanization as Byzantium just lost its shit. The Middle East and notional HRE haven’t really unified in a meaningful way, so I’m curious how things are going to go if/when the Mongols unify and roll-on in.

It’s one of those “Just one more thing” games that can completely devour time. I have more than a few times checked the clock mid-game to see that it’s 4AM and that I’ve totally ruined my sleep schedule in the process of play. Oooooops.

I highly recommend checking it out if you’re curious; the introductory, pre-release video series Paradox put out showing off the game does a pretty good job of showing the core gameplay loop and also how weird it can get.

[ripleyfm]

              ･ﾟ☀   good   morning   to   everyone   except   those   who   hate   on   legend   of   korra   !   skskskks   i’m   teddy   ,   i’m   a   lil   ole   baby   swinging   back   into   the   rpc   heart   emojis   a   -   blazing   !   this   is   my   lil   sunflower   chaos   seeker   known   as   ripley   ,   a   newer   muse   for   me   but   i’m   really   excited   to   flesh   her   out   here   with   some   extra   spooky   elements   .   i   have   a   god   awful   sense   of   humor   and   too   much   enthusiasm   for   angst   so   tbh   ?   come   get   y’all   PLOTTIN   JUICE   to   distract   me   from   thirsting   over   avatar   kyoshi   !  disc / ord is @𝐤𝐲𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫 !#6439 since i’ll be mobile for the afternoon !

* [ bruna marquezine + cis female + she / her ] —— have you met tallulah ripley ? they are a twenty-two year old senior currently studying biology & music theory. they live on decker house, and word around campus is that this leo is vibrant + gregarious, as well as hedonistic + philophobic. i wonder if they’ll make it out alive. trailing sand in on the hardwood with bare feet , running late to meetings ( and asking forgiveness with a mere flash of a grin ) , tucking a greta van fleet album among the family collection of concierto classics .

EDIT : wanted and current connections can be found here ! 

youngest   of   four   ,   born   into   an   old   money   surname   ,   her   mother ,  an  international   student  from  sao  paolo  ,  brazil  ,  and  american   father   meet   as   competing   pianists   at   holloway   ,   falling   in   love   ,   marrying   ,   and   beginning   the   next   generation   of   the   ripley   virtuosos   soon   after   graduation   .   her   childhood   is   privileged   and   uneventful   ,   strict   and   stifling   as   early   as   she   can   remember   ,   tallulah   causing   trouble   enough   as   if   to   make   up   for   her   perfectly   behaved   siblings   .

her   father   becomes   one   of   the   most   prolific   modern   composers   of   his   time   ,   and   splits   his   efforts   between   composition   and   teaching   music   theory   at   julliard   as   his   wife   continues   performances   as   a   famed   pianist   .   though   her   siblings   branch   out   into   other   instruments   ,   tallulah   is   the   only   one   stubborn   enough   to   weather   the   callouses   on   her   fingers   ,   figuring   if   she’s   going   to   be   forced   to   play   an   instrument   of   any   type   ,   it’ll   at   least   be   something   she   likes   .   thus   ,   the   only   stringed   instrument   in   the   ripley   household   becomes   hers   as   she   takes   on   the   cello   by   storm   .

practicing   cello   is   perhaps   the   only   thing   lu   truly   commits   herself   to   —   charming   and   sociable   as   she   may   be   ,   her   selectiveness   with   her   efforts   makes   her   sluggish   with   schoolwork   as   if   to   give   her   family   a   hard   time   .   her   siblings   ,   all   honor   scholars   and   first   chairs   at   their   respective   instruments   ,   pick   on   her   for   her   unmotivated   wild   child   ways   at   the   encouragement   of   her   mother   .   the   only   person   who   takes   the   time   to   sit   with   tallulah   and   keep   her   on   track   is   her   ever   -   tired   (   but   endlessly   generous   )   father   .

her   world   is   turned   upside   down   her   freshman   year   when   her   father’s   occasional   stumble   turns   into   a   more   regular   struggle   to   keep   his   balance   ,   an   ultimate   diagnosis   of   a   degenerative   disease   rattling   their   family   as   they   know   it   .   tallulah   ,   wild   and   only   tamed   by   the   kindness   of   one   man   ,   starts   acting   out   in   an   effort   to   ignore   the   world   around   her   .   the   rift   between   herself   and   her   family   only   multiplies   when   she   discovers   her   mother   having   an   affair   as   her   father’s   health   continues   to   decline   .

he   passes   away   on   a   vacation   he   and   tallulah   take   to   the   ripley   summer   beach   house   ,   something   they   had   done   to   have   some   quiet   time   together   away   from   the   judgement   of   her   siblings   .   having   to   be   the   one   to   break   the   news   to   the   family   ,   she   feels   herself   shut   down   and   lose   whatever   desire   she   had   left   to   live   the   perfect   life   her   mother   and   siblings   tried   to   force   on   her   .

she   starts   going   almost   exclusively   by   her   surname   ,   making   it   into   holloway   more   as   a   favor   to   her   family’s   generous   donations   to   the   music   program   than   on   grades   .   she’s   barely   hanging   on   by   her   involvement   in   the   university’s   symphonic   orchestra   ,   where   she’s   a   first   chair   cellist   that   shows   up   late   to   every   damn   rehearsal   and   somehow   can   cold   sightread   well   enough   to   piss   everyone   off   ksksksk   .

given   this   ,   she’s   only   minoring   in   music   theory   to   stay   in   the   orchestra   ,   and   partially   to   feel   close   to   her   dad   .   though   her   dream   is   to   write   music   scores   for   films   ,   she’s   majoring   in   biology   to   have   a   respectable   backup   plan   .   if   she   can’t   do   music   forever   ,   she’ll   disappear   onto   a   beach   somewhere   in   costa   rica   and   be   a   marine   biologist   and   never   be   heard   from   again   lmao

PERSONALITY   :   ripley   is   happiest   shotgunning   a   white   claw   before   piling   into   the   squad   car   and   calling   aux   immediately   !   loves   her   friends   and   sees   her   circle   as   found   family   that   she   would   do   anything   for   .   

she’s   laid   back   and   observant   ,   one   of   the   quieter   in   the   group   as   she   tries   to   suss   you   out   but   is   the   first   to   approach   a   newbie   and   act   as   if   you’ve   been   friends   for   ages   .   she   makes   an   active   effort   to   not   judge   others   on   the   basis   of   first   impressions   and   tends   to   be   rather   open   minded   when   meeting   others   ,   which   makes   her   a   sort   of   universal   friend   -   to   -   all   ;   given   this   ,  when  wronged  ,  she’s   a   stubborn   little   shit   and   though   she   wont   let   them   live   rent   free   in   that   headspace   ,   she’ll   go   full   send   to   making   sure   they’re   aware   they   don’t   exist   to   her   !  

she   hates   petty   drama   and   tends   to   skirt   most   responsibility   by   sweet   -   talking   her   way   out   of   things   ,   giving   the   impression   that   she   can   be   lazy   or   unmotivated   .   this   is   true   to   some   extent   ,   such   as   with   her   grades   or   her   timeliness   ,   but   those   who   strike   the   right   balance   will   see   a   side   of   ripley   that   is   laser   focused   ,   whether   its   drunken   ramblings   about   the   brilliance   of   the   chord   progressions   on   fleetwood   mac’s   rumors   or   an   astute   observation   about   the   emotion   behind   a   certain   cello   movement   .   though   she   prefers   to   skip   the   hard   thinking   and   just   enjoy   the   moment   ,   ripley’s   admittedly   a   clever   girl   ,   simply   needing   the   right   push   to   unlock   her   truest   potential   .  

she’s   incredibly   relaxed   (   sometimes   a   bit   too   much   for   the   preference   of   some   )   and   tends   to   try   and   avoid   over   -   complicating   issues   in   order   to   not   have   to   face   them   .   especially   considering   the   infidelity   of   her   mother   ,   ripley   is   a   staunch   believer   that   relationships   are   a   waste   of   time   and   is   the   annoying   bitch   who   argues   that   being   in   love   is   a   scam   made   up   by   the   simps   to   feel   valid   !  

acts   as   if   she   isn’t   FULL   of   feelings   and   emotions   24/7   n   listens   to   emo   70’s   power   ballads   when   the   person   she   likes   doesnt   confess   their   love   for   her   under   the   moonlight   like   they   were   supposed   to   in   her   fantasy   …….   smh   .   she’s   too   busy   trying   to   be   ~cool   and   effortless~   that   she   sometimes   sabotages   the   things   that   would   bring   her   the   most   happiness   ,   then   blaming   herself   in   a   vicious   cycle   that   just   leaves   her   trying   to   distract   herself   w   crazy   antics   to   avoid   focusing   on   her   feelings   .

RANDOM BLURBS :    hates   men   n   regrets   all   attraction   to   them   .   thinks   all   women   r   too   good   for   her   .   convinced   she   will   be   a   useless   bisexual   forced   2   be   forever   alone

plays   guitar   as   a   mental   break   from   cello   and   loves   it   .   i’m   still   deciding   a   vc   for   her 

knows   the   beaches   in   maine   are   cold   af   but   wants   to   go   every   weekend   anyways

drives   the   most   impractical   soft   shell   jeep   which   sucks   in   the   east   coast   wind   and   snow   and   yet   it   is   somehow   exactly   an   embodiment   of   Her   Brand tm

like   5′9   tall   and   hates   wearing   real   people   shoes   she   said   berks   or   nOTHIN

wishes   she   could   go   vegan   but   is   so   bad   at   keeping   track   of   her   meals   she’d   forget   instantly   and   down   a   20   pack   of   chicken   nugget

too   mellow   &   apathetic   to   be   a   chaotic   neutral   but   too   adventurous   to   be   a   true   neutral   so   she   lives   somewhere   in   that   lawless   grey   space   skskskks

acts   REAL   california   for   someone   who   grew   up   exclusively   on   the   east   coast   ....   hm   .....   🤔

grew  up  disconnected  from  brazilian  culture  due  to  her  mom's  whitewashing  and  she  resents  it  greatly  .  can  understand  scattered  portuguese  but  took  spanish  in  high  school  so  that's  as  close  to  the  language  as  she'll  get  .  wants  to  take  lessons  online  tho  !

inspos r lila from umbrella academy , wynonna earp , beverly marsh from it , michelle manlon from derry girls , korra from lok , adora from she ra and the pop ,  and that ugly yellow overtone used in outer banks  💖 skskskks 

[tails89]

Bad Moon Rising

AO3

“’lo?”

“Sorry kid, did I wake you?”

Rolling onto his back, Stiles stares up at the ceiling, ignoring the dull ache behind his eyes. “It’s fine. What’s up?”

“Someone called in a body this morning. It looks like some kind of sacrifice-“

With a long sigh, Stiles sits up, leaning back against the headboard while his dad talks.

“Great,” he mumbles into the phone, once his dad is done. “So, you’re thinking it could be supernatural then?”

“I think it’s definitely worth checking out.”

Stiles groans and rolls out of bed. “Yeah, okay. We’ll come take a look.” He disconnects the phone call and drops his cell on the bed. Resisting the temptation to flop back under the covers, he stands slowly moving to gather up a clean change of clothes before heading to the bathroom. He takes his time in the shower—the warm steam helps to loosen some of the congestion that’s beginning to build in his chest, and by the time he’s dressed Stiles is feeling almost human.

He shuffles out to the kitchen, turning on the kettle and rummaging through the medicine cabinet thinking maybe he can dose himself up enough to get through the morning. If he’s lucky, this whole sacrifice thing will just be some twisted, but completely human, occurrence and he’ll be home by midday to sleep off the cold that’s brewing.

Tablets in hand, Stiles sets about making coffee. He’s just finishing up when the front door opens and Derek enters, kicking off his sneakers and dropping his headphones onto the hall table. He wanders over to stand behind Stiles, wrapping his arms around him boyfriend and hooking his chin over his boyfriend’s shoulders

“I wasn’t expecting you to be up yet.” Derek takes the coffee Stiles offers him setting it down on the bench. “It looked like maybe you were coming down with something.”

“Oh, it came down alright.” Stiles leans back into the warm weight and sips his own hot drink. “I’m eighty-percent sure I’m dying right now,” he complains. “But Dad called. He wants us to check out a crime scene.”

“I could probably check it out on my own,” Derek offers once Stiles has filled him in. He backs off to refill his drink bottle. “If magic’s been cast, I’ll probably be able to scent it.”

Stiles slumps forward against the counter. “Yeah, if it’s been cast. But it depends on the ritual. Ugh.” He downs the last of his coffee. “It’ll be easier of we can both get a look at the place. We can rule a lot of things out together.”

“You sure?”

Stiles shrugs. “Yeah, let’s just get this over with.”

They take Derek’s car—it handles the winding, bouncing track out to the crime scene much easier than the Jeep would. It takes about half an hour to arrive and with each bump in the road Stiles regrets his decision to leave his bed. By the time they spot the flashing red and blue lights of the police cars through the trees, the pounding behind his eyes is back with a vengeance.

Sheriff John Stilinski stands beside his cruiser as the Toyota pulls up. He turns to wave at his boys as they walk over, his mouth twisting down once he gets a good look at Stiles.  

“Jesus kid, you look like death warmed over.” John tucks his notepad into his pocket. “You should have said something.”

“Thanks Dad,” Stiles drawls. “Good to see you too.” He stifles a cough in his elbow, ignoring the looks from Derek and his father.

“Stiles-“

“It’s fine,” Stiles promises, waving them both off. “Just a cold. Look, the sooner we do this, the sooner I can go home.”

Sighing, John leads the way over to the crime scene. “The body was called in just after six am by a jogger-“

The acrid scent of magic hangs heavy in the air and Stiles groans at the sight before him. He recognises two of the symbols carved into the tree, the others… he’s not sure. He goes to take a step forward for a better look but is stopped by Derek’s low growl. Turning, Stiles realises that Derek can’t get any closer, blocked by an invisible wall.

“Mountain ash.”

Stiles crouches and brushes his fingers through the short grass. The barrier falls allowing Derek to pass.

“Well this is just awesome.” Stiles straightens too quickly-- his vision going grey and spotty for a second before clearing. “There was definitely magic involved, but I don’t recognise these symbols.” He steps away from the tree to take a couple of photos with his phone. “I guess I’ll go give Deaton a call,” he says, patting away Derek’s hand on his shoulder. “I’ll meet you guys back at the car.”

*

Stiles is sitting in the passenger seat of the car when Derek and his father return. He massages his temples, trying to will away the headache hammering behind his eyes.

He jerks up at the metallic squeal of the door opening, fumbling with his phone.

“I really hate talking to Deaton,” he complains. “It’s hard enough to get a straight answer from him normally. I don’t understand his need to explain things in the most convoluted ways.”

“Did you get anything?” Derek asks, leaning against the door.

“I explained the symbols and I’m thinking druid. Deaton said something about the energies of a blue moon…” Stiles trails off at his Dad’s confused expression.

“It’s when there are two full moons in the same month,” Derek supplies. “The second one’s called a blue moon.”

Stiles nods along. “Anyway, it’s something to do with gaining power.”

“Okay, but last night wasn’t a full moon,” John points out.

“No, it’s in, uh-” Stiles looks to Derek for help.

“Tonight.”

“Well, shit. Yeah, so it escalates,” Stiles explains. “The druid killed one person last night. They’ll kill two more tonight to finish the ritual. They may already have their next victims.”

“How do we stop him?” John asks, his mouth set in a frown.

“Honestly?” Stiles shrugs. “No idea. I think we need to get the pack together and Dad-” He breaks off, the tickle in his throat bursting out in a long coughing fit. “-Can you check and see if anyone’s been reported missing in the last few days?” he croaks when he’s done.

“In the meantime, I’m taking Stiles home,” Derek cuts in. “It’s going to take a few hours to organise everyone and figure out how to stop the druid.” He turns to Stiles. “You should probably get some rest while we wait.”

“I knew there was I reason I loved you,” Stiles says grinning. “I’ll start calling the pack.” He’s reaching for the seatbelt when the phone in his hands starts ringing.

“Scott? Wait, slow down. What?” His eyes go wide. “When? Shit. Okay. Where are you? Stay there okay, we’re on our way.” Stiles ends the call and turns to his Dad. “Melissa didn’t come home last night.”

John pales. “You think the druid has her?”

“Given the timing, I think it’s too big of a coincidence. Ugh.” Tipping his head back against the seat he pinches the bridge of his nose. “I guess that’s a raincheck on naptime.”

His dad gives him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “I think you’ve got bigger problems,” he says, looking back to the crime scene. “I’ve got some things to finish up here,” John says. “Keep me updated. Let me know when you find her.”

“Will do.”

Derek climbs in behind the steering wheel and they head straight to Scott’s place.

“Mom worked yesterday.” Scott explains, pacing the living room once they arrive. “She was supposed to be home last night, but she didn’t, she-“

Kira stands, resting a hand on his arm and Scott looks across at her gratefully. After taking a breath, he continues.

“I called the hospital this morning. I thought maybe she picked up another shift. She wasn’t there though. And they said she didn’t turn up for her shift yesterday either. That’s not like her.”

“We’ll find her.” Stiles is quick to reassure his friend. “Hey, we will. We always do.”

It’s still early, almost ten am, which means they still have the whole day to find Melissa. Knowing one of the druid’s victims will make it easier to find all of them. With a personal belonging, Stiles can use a spell to track Melissa’s location.

“Okay,” he says, starting to form a plan in his head. “Scotty, you go talk to Deaton. He tends to open up to you more than he does the rest of us. Show him the photos I took and get as much information as you can— I want to know what each symbol means.” He swings his leg against the coffee table, tapping out a staccato rhythm as he thinks. “We’ll get the rest of the pack together at our place in a couple of hours and head out before it gets dark.”

With the very beginnings of the plan set into motion, Scott and Kira leave to talk to the veterinarian and Derek drives Stiles home.

As soon as he walks through the front door, Stiles starts pulling books off the shelves and spends the rest of the morning reclined on the couch, up to his eyeballs in research.

Derek disappears into the kitchen around midday, returning ten minutes later with a sandwich.

“You should eat something,” he says, placing a plate down on the coffee table, pushing aside the books and papers spread out across the surface.

“I’m not hungry,” Stiles mumbles. He puts down his notebook and rubs at his eyes. His head aches, everything aches, and he wants nothing more than to curl into a ball and sleep for the next week, but with a druid running around sacrificing people for power, sleep will have to wait.

“I know.” Derek hands over a glass of water and two small white tablets. “But you haven’t eaten anything today— coffee doesn’t count as food. You need to eat.”

Stiles eyes the medication, coughing into his sleeve. “Can’t you just use your werewolf pain-sucky magic?” He makes a grabby motion, but Derek shakes his head and places the pills in his palm.

“My ‘werewolf pain-sucky magic’ won’t help your fever,” he points out. “Or that cough.”

Stiles takes the medication with a resigned sigh, swallowing down the pills and grimacing as the water hits his rolling stomach. Once the feeling subsides, he holds out his hands for the plate.

Derek hands over the sandwich and watches Stiles take a few tentative bites. Satisfied, he goes and collects his own lunch before returning to the living room.

“I don’t like this,” Derek says, breaking the silence. He sits down on the couch next to Stiles, lifting his boyfriend’s feet to make room and dropping them in his lap. “Surely there’s someone else who can do this?”

“Who?” Stiles croaks. “None of the ‘wolves can activate the tracking spell. I don’t-” He breaks off to cough into his elbow. “Deaton won’t help us unless it benefits him directly. Dad’s busy trying to keep the rest of the department distracted while we go tramping across the crime scene.” He raises the sandwich halfway to his mouth then seems to change his mind, setting the plate back down on the table. “Melissa is missing. If we don’t do this, if I don’t do this tonight, we might never get her back.”

“I still don’t like it,” Derek grumbles. “It’s dangerous enough without you being sick.”

“I’ll be fine big guy.” Stiles slips a foot out of Derek’s lap to nudge him in the thigh. “I’ll be in and out in the blink of an eye and once the druid turns up, I’m more than happy to leave the fighting up to the werewolves. We’ve got a plan— it’s going to work out.”

Two hours later most of the pack are sitting around the coffee table, while Derek goes over that same plan.

“Are we sure this is going to work?” Scott asks, his face is drawn with worry. Melissa has been missing for almost twenty-four hours and everyone can feel Scott’s fear creeping down the pack bonds—and an unsettled Alpha makes rest of the pack restless.

“Stiles is the best at last minute plans,” Kira says, glancing over at Stiles as she speaks.

“Yeah, but Stiles looks like shit.” Malia is as blunt as ever, sitting with her feet hanging over the arm of the chair. “What?” She shrugs when Stiles complains. “You reek of sweat and sickness. You have magic, can’t you just heal yourself?”

“My magic doesn’t work like that.” Stiles reminds her. “I can sense other people’s magic, do a couple of spells, but healing is beyond what I can do.”

“We can’t put this off any longer,” Derek continues, bringing them back to the plan. “We need Stiles to find Melissa, but then it’s up to us.” He looks to each of the ‘weres in the room. “You all know what you need to do?” Six heads nod back at him. “Okay, we head out in an hour.”

*

It’s cold.

Fucking freezing.

Intellectually Stiles knows it’s not that bad and that his fever is probably just making it seem worse than it really is. That doesn’t stop Stiles from cursing and shivering in his jacket. He presses in closer to Derek’s side, more thankful than ever that werewolves run hot.

It’s not even that late. The sun has only just disappeared behind the trees and little kids across Beacon Hills are probably out trick-or-treating innocently oblivious to the danger that is lurking in the preserve. Stiles can’t remember if he turned the lights off at the house. He hopes no one comes knocking on their door.

It’s a crappy way to spend Halloween. Stiles could be eating candy re-watching The Nightmare Before Christmas and trying to convince Derek to answer the door in his beta shift.  

He forces his focus back to the task at hand. Moonrise is only moments away. Closing his eyes, Stiles re-activates the spell that is leading them to Melissa and the other victim. Focusing on the pull, he walks with Derek, listening hard for the rest of the pack—they’ve melted into the trees ready and watching in case they run into the druid. He clears his throat and resists the urge to cough. His eyes are watering and he can feel a tickle deep in his chest and he does his best to ignore it.

Beside him, Derek tenses.

Stiles looks up at him.

“Moonrise,” Derek explains softly, his eyes glowing golden.

They break into a run.

“They should be right up ahead,” Stiles pants, pointing through the trees. Derek shifts fully, snarling and snapping his jaws. He crashes through the undergrowth, followed closely by Malia and Erica who have materialised from the darkness.

They’re gone by the time Stiles reaches the clearing, but he can still hear them, growling and snarling as they chase the druid.

“Stiles!” Kira is standing off to Stiles’ left with Scott and Boyd. Behind her is Melissa and… Chris Argent?

“We can’t get to them.” Kira gestures to the dark ash the ground.

Stiles pulls his jacket closer around himself, turning towards her.

“Okay.” He casts a glance back towards the direction Derek had gone. “I’m coming.” He jogs over towards the tree, his breath burning in his chest, and kicks his foot through the line of mountain ash.

Scott and Boyd rush in to free Melissa and Chris. They make quick work of the knotted rope and soon they’re ready to go.

Stiles stands to the side, covering his mouth to cough harshly into his sleeve. He wants nothing more than to get Derek and go home.

“Mama McCall.” Stiles’ voice grates in his throat. “Good to have you back.”

Melissa has one arm flung around her son’s waist, and she wraps the other around Stiles. “I’m beginning to wonder if there’s some sort of card I can get stamped each time I’m kidnapped.” Her tone is light, but there’s a tremble to it she can’t hide.

“Next one’s free,” Stiles jokes, letting Scott lead them back towards the cars.

Derek is waiting there in his wolf form when they get back. Stiles pulls away from Melissa to go to his wolf, tangling his fingers in Derek’s fur.

There’s a spare change of clothes in the car. Stiles reluctantly lets go of Derek and follows him around the car so the wolf can shift back into his human form.

“You’re okay? What happened?” he asks, scanning Derek for any sign of injury.

“I’m okay.” Derek says. He opens the front passenger door and pulls on a pair of sweatpants. “But the druid got away.”

Stiles lets Derek tug him in to scent him. “We were able to stop the sacrifice. Maybe he’ll leave.” The words are mumbled into Derek’s bare chest. “Let’s go home. We can sort this out tomorrow.

They’d driven two cars out to the preserve, so they split back into them.

Scott and Kira volunteer to take Chris and Melissa home and Malia goes with them. Derek offers Erica and Boyd a lift before climbing in on the driver’s side. Stiles hops up beside him cranking the heater.

He stares out the window as they drive. The glass is cool against his forehead as the Toyota winds along the bumpy road back to town and Derek’s hand is a comforting presence on Stiles’ thigh— vibrating.

“Oh!” Stiles sits up quickly, ignoring Erica’s giggle from the backseat. The vibration comes again from his pocket. Stiles digs out his phone and answers the call. “Hey Dad.”

“Stiles, how’d it go?”

“We didn’t catch him, but we were able to rescue Melissa and Chris Argent. We’re on our way home.” Stiles rests his head back against the window.

“Do you think he’ll be back?”

“I don’t know,” Stiles says honestly. “I hope not.”

John sighs down the line. “Well, the important thing is everyone’s okay. We can sort the rest out later. Get some rest Stiles. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

The line disconnects and Stiles lets his hand drop to his lap. Outside the window, the brightly lit houses with their Halloween decorations blur together.

*

“Wha-?” Stiles stirs when Derek shakes his shoulder gently. He squints against the lights of the residential complex. “We’re back?”

Erica and Boyd are gone. Stiles hadn’t even noticed the brief pit stop to drop them home.

Derek nods, stepping aside so Stiles can climb down from the car. It’s only a short walk up the path to their house, but it feels endless, so Stile just focuses on putting one foot in front of the other until he makes it to the front porch.

He leans against Derek while the werewolf unlocks the door and turns on the lights. The living room is a mess, but that is a problem for future-Stiles. He ignores it in favour of walking straight through to the bedroom.

“Do you want first shower?”

Stiles shakes his head; he’s been longing for this moment all day. “Jus’ want to sleep.”

He sits on the bed and kicks off his shoes. He can hear Derek moving around in the bathroom as he shrugs off his jacket and lets it fall to the floor. His jeans are the last to go, falling in a heap on top of the rest of his discarded clothing. Stiles contemplates pulling on a pair of sweatpants but walking to the closet just seems like too much effort, so he settles for crawling under the covers in his shirt and boxers.

A few minutes later, the bed dips and a warm body climbs in beside him. Stiles rolls towards Derek, tucking himself up against his werewolf hot water bottle before drifting off.

Derek doesn’t sleep very well that night.

Stiles kicks him awake twice, mumbling and coughing in his sleep. Wrapping an arm around his partner, Derek pulls Stiles in close, hoping to stifle some of the movement.

Snaking his hand up under Stiles’ shirt, Derek splays his fingers across the bare skin of his stomach. It feels warmer than normal, but Derek doesn’t have much experience with human illnesses. He doesn’t think it’s too bad.

Stiles rolls over, mashing his face into Derek’s collarbone. The werewolf cards his fingers though his sick boyfriend’s hair and tries to fall back to sleep.

He gives up some time around five am.

Stiles stopped mumbling at some point during the night, but his temperature has gone up and he’s throwing off enough heat that even Derek feels sticky and uncomfortable lying beside him.

He pushes away the sheets and rises from the bed. Stepping into the kitchen, Derek takes a long drink of water then goes and rummages around in one of the cupboards. He finds an old packet of paracetamol that somehow isn’t expired and inspects the back of the package to check it can be taken on an empty stomach. Before returning to the bedroom Derek refills his glass with water.

Stiles doesn’t even stir when Derek sits on the edge of the bed and switches on the lamp on the nightstand. Setting down the glass, Derek reaches for Stiles’ shoulder, waking him gently.

The younger man groans, one arm coming up to smack away the hand trying to wake him.

“Le’ me sleep,” he whines, curling in on himself.

“You can go back to sleep in a minute,” Derek promises. “I need you to take these first.” He presses the meds into Stiles’ hand.

The younger man glares blearily at the clock on the table and then at the tablets in his hands. “Der, it’s the asscrack of dawn,” he complains, voice rasping. “This could have waited.”

“You’re running hotter than I am right now,” Derek points out patiently. “Trust me. Take these now, you’ll feel better when you wake up later.”

Stiles groans again with the effort of sitting up. He sits back against the headboard, reaching out to take the glass Derek hands him and swallows the pills. “Can I go back to sleep now? Wait. Where are you going?” He asks when Derek stands.

“I spent the night lying beside the human equivalent of a space heater.” Derek twists to look back towards the bed. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“Don’t go.” Stiles makes grabby hands towards his boyfriend until Derek reluctantly climbs back onto the bed.

“You’re so gross,” the werewolf grumbles, running his fingers through Stiles’ sweaty locks.

Stiles snuggles into his chest. “You love me.”

Derek rumbles his agreement, wrapping his arms around Stiles despite the clammy heat coming off him. He manages to doze for another hour and when he wakes Stiles does feels cooler.

The sky outside their window is beginning to lighten, so Derek carefully untangles himself from his human-octopus boyfriend and gets up to fetch a pair of running shorts. He contemplates showering quickly before changing—he is feeling pretty grimy after sleeping beside Stiles. Making up his mind, he ducks into the bathroom.

At the end of his morning jog, Derek detours through town to stop at the pharmacy. He picks up some more medicine for Stiles as well as a thermometer. They’ve never needed one before, but Derek has spent the last twenty-four hours guessing Stiles’ temperature based on comparing it to his own. He knows that werewolves generally run two to three degrees warmer than a human and based on that Stiles had had a pretty high fever that morning, but it would be useful to know exactly what his temperature was.

He’s expecting Stiles to still be asleep when he gets home, but when he pushes open the front door Stiles is sprawled across the couch in the living room, wrapped up in a blanket. His laptop’s sitting open on his knees and Stiles is staring blearily at the screen.

“What are you doing?” Derek moves Stiles’ legs, so he can sit on the couch, then lets the human drop his feet into his lap.

Stiles coughs into his elbow and slumps further into the cushions.  “That druid is still out there,” he says. “We bought some time last night, but this isn’t over.”

“We’ve got another month before the next full moon,” Derek points out. “A regular full moon. There won’t be another blue moon until-“

“August,” Stiles supplies. “2023, but-“

“That’s two years away.” Derek cuts back in. “Take a break. Just a couple of days until you feel better. You’re allowed to take a sick day Stiles.”

“The bad guys don’t take sick days Derek,” Stiles argues. “Besides-“ he’s cut off by another cough. “The ritual was for gaining power. Why? What’s the druid planning on doing with this power? How much does he have already? Maybe he doesn’t need to finish the ritual!”

“Let someone else figure that out.” Derek reaches across to shut the laptop. “I’ll call Deaton again; he might have some ideas. Lydia will be back in a couple of days; she can help too. You’re not the only one who knows how to do research.”

“Yeah, but I do it the best,” Stiles grumbles but he lets Derek take away his computer.

“I know you do,” Derek agrees. “But you can do it later.” He places the laptop down on the coffee table. “I’m going to make some breakfast. It’s still early, why don’t you go back to bed for a bit? I’ll bring you something to drink.”

“Nah, I think I’m just going to stay here.” Stiles tugs the blanket closer around his body. “We could watch a movie.”

Derek passes over the remote for the television before heading to the kitchen. He potters around, taking his time with breakfast.

When he finally returns to the loungeroom, Stiles is fast asleep on the couch. Derek lets his hand brush against Stiles’ forehead. He’s feeling a bit warm again, but his fever is nowhere near as high as it had been when he’d woken that morning, so Derek lets him sleep.

It’s a Sunday morning, and they’ve both got the day off. Derek had been planning on heading into the garage for a bit to work on his car, but he doesn’t trust Stiles not to get sucked into another research binge if he leaves him alone. Instead, he goes to take a proper shower and throws their sheets into the washing machine before remaking the bed. He spends the rest of the morning quietly tidying the house while Stiles sleeps before returning to the kitchen to make some lunch.

Derek digs around in the freeze, finding some leftover soup—soup is supposed to be good for colds. He sticks the container in the microwave to heat while he makes himself a sandwich. He’s mindful of the fact that Stiles probably won’t be very hungry, still, he needs to eat so Derek carries their lunch out to the living room and places it on the coffee table. It feels like Stiles’ temperature is back up, so Derek ducks back to the kitchen for his paper bag of pharmacy supplies.

“’m not hungry,” is the first thing Stiles says when he spots the food.

“I know,” Derek replies, “but the pharmacist said you shouldn’t take these with an empty stomach.” He’s got the new box of cold and flu tablets in one hand and the thermometer in the other.

Stiles sits up gingerly, clearing his throat of the congestion building back up. His chest aches from coughing all morning and he’s desperately trying to avoid setting it back off. He pulls his legs up, crossing them to make room for Derek to sit beside him and watches the werewolf fidget with the thermometer.

“Here.” He holds out his hand to take it. It’s digital and turns on at the press of a button. Stiles sticks it in his mouth under his tongue and waits for the beep. When it comes, Stiles doesn’t even look at it, just hands the thing back over and lets Derek frown over the blinking number.

“What’s the damage?” He asks as he accepts the bowl of soup that had been cooling on the table.

“I think you have the flu,” Derek responds.

“Pretty sure I could have told you that.” Stiles huffs fondly. He would roll his eyes if his head didn’t hurt so bad. He lifts his spoon to eat, pausing after a few small mouthfuls when his stomach begins to churn unpleasantly. When he’s feeling confident his lunch is going to stay put, he takes the offered medicine, but he can’t bring himself to eat any more after that.

Derek starts his own lunch once he realises Stiles isn’t going finish his soup. He flicks on the TV, starting up a new episode of the TV show he’s been watching.

“Oh, yeah, I like this one.” Stiles shuffles around on the couch so that he’s half draped over Derek as the title credits begin to play. He lies like that for a few minutes when suddenly he scrambles out from under the blanket to rush towards the hallway.

The sound of retching hits Derek’s ears a moment later. He follows the sound towards the bathroom.

Inside Stiles sits, slumped on the floor, his head tipped back to rest against the cool porcelain tiles that line the bathroom wall.

“Feeling any better?” Derek asks as he moves to crouch beside his boyfriend.

Stiles goes to nod but then he’s reaching for the toilet again, shoulders heaving. They sit there on the floor together for a few minutes afterwards. Stiles is afraid that if he moves it’ll start up again.

“You think you could drink something?”

Stiles shakes his head carefully.

“Just a little bit, you need to stay hydrated.”

“You’ve been googling,” Stiles manages to say without setting off another round of vomiting.

He hears Derek’s low chuckle and the rustle of clothing as the werewolf gets up from the floor, followed by the sound of footsteps receding. Derek’s back soon enough and there’s a damp wash cloth being pressed into his hands.

Stiles runs the towel over his face and down his neck, it’s a welcome relief against his burning skin.

Taking the towel back, Derek swaps it for a glass of water. Stiles takes a tentative sip to wash his mouth out, but any more than that makes is stomach roll again, so he set the glass down on the tiles.

“I think I’m going to go back to bed,” he mumbles, standing slowly with one hand braced against wall. Once upright, he lets Derek steer him towards the bedroom and climbs into the fresh sheets.

“Roll over,” Derek says. “Facing the window.”

Brows creasing with confusion, Stiles rolls over.

A warm, calloused hand comes to rest at the base of his neck, kneading small circles into his skin. It drags up into his hair and Stiles feels the tension in his back and shoulders melting away along with the pounding in his head.

“You mojo’d me.” The words are almost lost in the pillow. “Thanks Der.”

Derek lets Stiles sleep and heads out to find a large bowl or bucket— just in case. By the time he returns, Stiles has already thrown the covers off and is lying sprawled in the middle of the bed. His skin still feels so hot to the touch and Derek realises that he’d probably thrown up before the pills had really had a chance to work. He’s not sure if he can give Stiles more medicine so soon and debates whether he should call Melissa to ask.

In the end he chooses the middle ground and sends a text. The reply comes through a few minutes later.

Melissa McCall (13:09PM): How long after taking the medication was he sick?

He’s not sure, but it hadn’t been long.

Derek (13:09PM): Maybe 20 minutes?

Melissa McCall (13:10PM): What’s his temp now?

Derek returns to the living room to retrieve the thermometer. He’s reluctant to wake Stiles again, but does it anyway, ignoring the grumble in favour of getting a temperature reading.

Derek (13:14PM): 102.1

Melissa McCall (13:16PM): Just make sure he keeps drinking water and let him rest. You can try again in a few hours. Text me if his temp goes over 103.

“You’re like a mother hen,” Stiles mumbles, blinking up at Derek. “I’ll be fine. Us fragile humans get sick all the time.”

“You’ve never been sick in the two years we’ve been dating,” Derek points out, setting down his phone. “And werewolves don’t get sick. I have no frame of reference for this.”

“You had humans in your pack.”

“I never had to take care of any of them. I was sixteen remember.” The memories are easier to talk about with the distance of time. “Anyway, Melissa said you need to stay hydrated. I’ll get you some water.”

Stiles nods wearily and but doesn’t sit up.

Derek returns with a glass, setting it down beside the bed.

“You good?”

The concern in Derek’s voice is endearing and Stiles finds himself smiling. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

The rest of the day passes uneventfully. Stiles spends most of it sleeping, occasionally woken by either Derek trying to get him to drink, or the cough that rattles in his chest. His temperature hovers around 102 for the rest of the evening, not going any higher, but not coming down much either.

Around dinner time, Derek gets another text from Melissa asking how Stiles is doing. Stiles has migrated back to the couch and is curled up under a blanket. He steals Derek’s phone to reply to Melissa that he’s fine and Derek is being a worrywart and ignores the dinner Derek has placed in front of him.

“Do you need to call in sick for tomorrow?” Derek asks.

“No work tomorrow.” Stiles puts the phone down. “And I can afford to miss a day of classes. I was going to give Scott a lift in though—I’ll text him later.”

Nodding, Derek queues up another movie and they watch TV until Stiles falls asleep on the couch. Derek wakes him just before nine pm for one last dose of medicine and sends him to bed.

Read the chapter 2 on AO3

[wheremytwinwatches]

[Where My Twin Watches]: Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Episode 51

Last Time: The Bus Came Back, Al really needs to learn Morse Code, and the Golems woke up. Onwards!

Oh snap, new opening. Soft music as Ed and Al stand together in Central, looking at the lit-up castle until Ed looks away to blue pictures of Roy’s Crew wait I just saw Hughes in there. Oooh no. That’s not a good sign. Ok it’s including everyone from Armstrong the Great to General Grumman so unless this show’s heading towards a Total Party Wipe (which is not as unlikely as I’d like) it must just be stylistic. Wait what that was a white Truth outline that looked a heck of a lot like Winry. Please tell me she’s ok. Aaaand now it’s all red and black as someone (Ed?) screams and other flashes of red souls oh it’s the Goths. Aw hell it’s the Goths! And Uncle as well looking annoyed until GAH it’s one of those freaking Golems. Ok back to calming blue pictures of the Good Guys, then Al’s Soul still sitting at the Gate of Truth with his empty armor behind him, and Truth laughing like the jerk he is. Winry! Wi- wait why are you standing in a white dress at the edge of a cliff? Young lady that’s far too close, step back right now. Also stop crying and/or point me in the direction of whoever made you cry. We get a title for this song (“Rain”) as townspeople and villagers look up at the storm clouds in concern, and Military soldiers run out alongside tanks whaaaaat is that? What is that there’s a hunched figure standing in flames, zoomed in to show glowing white eyes and very big teeth. Now it’s Bradley in a bloodied white shirt sitting in the rain acting all calm and collected, switch to complete opposite of Scar tossing aside his jacket ooooh are we gonna get Scar fighting Bradley in this arc? Yeah I know that the trailers always lie but there tends to be elements of truth like the arms that grabbed Al coming up in a later arc. Now it’s the Chimera Army (sadly not under the command of General Al), and the Armstrong Siblings standing alongside each other and Mrs. and Mr. Curtis! Good to see you guys again! Wait Roy why do you look so upset? Riza why are you crying in an alleyway with your dog? And now Ed and Al are standing on opposite sides of a tree damnit are they gonna get separated again? Ok finally the sun’s broken through NOPE NOPE DEAD PERSON ALERT THAT LOOKS LIKE MAMA ELRIC BUT IT PROBABLY ISN’T EITHER RUN OR PUNCH IT ED. Nevermind he was just dreaming. While being watched over by Winry. Kinda cute, but kinda creepy too. Episode 51 - “The Immortal Legion” Oh great, this episode is gonna focus on those creepy Golems. Just what I wanted to start the new year with, yay. So a bunch of pipes are disconnecting from the gasping artificial zombies who land kneeling on the floor, before standing GREAT they’re in that uncanny 3D modeling that Titan!Envy used. Officer laughs at the labcoat’s insistence that they needed more tests, pointing at the undying, obedient, invincible soldiers. [Officer]: “We have our Title Drop, at long last!” Now he’s ordering the Golems (“Papa” NO) to deal with the renegade ele- Uh What So… One of the Golems walked forward and just… tore out his throat with its teeth. And a bunch of other Golems have pounced on the screaming Officer. Who’s no longer screaming. Aaaand now they’ve stopped, and turned with bloody mouths to the labcoat. … … … How fucking stupid are these guys? I mean really. REALLY. How has Amestris lasted as a country this long if this is what its leadership and researchers are like? How could the labcoats have failed so spectacularly to create Zombies when the goal was to create Golems? What kind of shoddy “tests” were they running to not figure out that their supposedly obedient soldiers were mindless killing beasts? Was there no prototype? Did they literally build an army of these things just assuming that they would all work? You fail, my good sirs! You fail at Science! And you, Officer! You completely ignored the guy whose job it is to know things, who told you that the weapon wasn’t ready, and you just set it off? You were so blinded by your arrogance and desire for command over others that you unleashed this army of Zombies without any assurance that they wouldn’t kill you for standing in front of them? Uncle. I get that you’re a bad guy. I get that you view humanity as a lesser species, no better than fuel for yourself and your Goths. And frankly, after seeing this Kimblee level of incompetence, I can see your point. But you have to have seen this coming. You had to have known that your minions were this stupid, this incredible level of dumbfuckery that has me storming around my room, ranting at the utter failure of this Officer and researcher. Clearly this is the reason you made your Goths, because if this was the level of ability you led before you made more competent henchmen? It’s a miracle that the whole country hasn’t gone up in flames without even the slightest effort by the Conspiracy.

Ok. Ok, we need to move on. So while that whole mess is kicking off, Ed’s reached the Door beneath The Third Laboratory. Oh hey, Barry’s still there! Miss you, you were funny when you weren’t killing innocents or trying to flirt with Riza. Giant door, check. Now how to open it. Actually, do we want to open it? Is it connected to the Transmutation Circle, is opening it playing into Uncle’s hands? Ah well, Ed’s gonna try anyway, struggles for a bit pulling at the seam (maybe it’s a push door?) until Scar gets bored and prepares to HoD it oh hey it’s opening CLOSE IT CLOSE IT CLOSE IT ZOMBIES CLOSE IIIIIIIIITTTTTTT Oh hey Armstrong the Great. Still haven’t killed the second General? Yeah he’s more useful as a bullet shield right now, and he’s still a General so he can order the Central Forces to stand down. Only he’s not giving the order? Huh. I’m actually kinda impressed here, guy’s been stabbed multiple times and has a gun to his head but he still gives an order to seal all entrances to Central. Still a bad guy and Armstrong the Great’s absolutely going to kill him now, but still. Ooor instead of Armstrong the Great, it’ll be Sloth literally crushing him. Ouch. Oooh dear, seems Sloth’s been ordered to kill Armstrong the Great for interfering, and she doesn’t have a tank or a snowstorm this time. She’s still laughing though, thanking the Goth for opening up another General seat, and brandishes her blade. [Armstrong the Great]: “This sword was passed through the Armstrong Family for generations. Now I don’t have to sully it with his filthy blood!” Adventure Strings continue as Ed’s fighting the Zombie Horde, the Chimera’s are throwing punches and Scar’s breaking out the HoDs to kill… oh dear. Scar’s One Hit Kill isn’t killing. That’s not good. The Zombies groan and shuffle around them- [Zombie]: “Big Brother!” NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPENOPE FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK YOU, WHOEVER WROTE THAT LINE YOU DO NOT TARNISH ONE OF THE SADDEST MOMENTS IN THIS SHOW WITH THESE MONSTERS SCREW. YOU.

Ed’s reacting in shock, realizing that they used human souls to make the Zombies, even somehow poor Nina’s. And for all the Zombies already, more and more come pouring through the door. Scar’s right, if these things escape outside to where civilians are just standing around wondering at all the Military soldiers running around, it’ll be a slaughter… Oh. Ok, I get it. Uncle deliberately set this up so the Officers (who are still IDIOTS) would set off a slaughter of the Central populace, probably to fuel the Transmutation Circle like Kimblee orchestrated the Drachman’s destruction up north. Back inside, Ed seals off the exit to keep the Zombies in ok sorry I have to say something, did the animation budget get cut for this episode to focus on the Zombies? Because for whatever reason Ed just seems off-model today, his face keeps looking rounder and younger. Anyways, the Chimeras are eager to let loose in a fight and transform, the group charges towards the Gate to plow through the horde and reach “that bearded bastard”. Outside Military forces are trying to close off roads and keep the Armory Ice Cream Truck from escaping, until a certain Briggs Officer arrives to express his displeasure. [Central Officer]: “A- a bear! A bear with a mohawk! Aaaa-” So Roy and his Crew are safely out of town, but now they’ll have some trouble getting back in. Although the Military are looking for an ice cream truck specifically. Almost makes me wish Ed was here to Transmute up a disguise for the vehicle. Almost mind you, things aren’t so desperate we need that just yet. Lion’s still at the Dome, wondering how things are going with the others. With nothing better to do he goes to talk to Al, ask what that annoying tapping noise is FINALLY thank you so Al didn’t know but Lion with his military experience was able to identify the dot dot dot dash dash dash dot dot dot and realize that Al needs to shut Pride up, NOW. He’s been broadcasting your loca- Uh oh. Kimblee’s here. And as much as I insult the guy, I think he’s probably strong enough to brush past an injured Lion and break Pride out- Or straight up kill Lion while knocking a hole in the Dome. Damnit. Pride is loose. Mid-ep pictures of Zombies (“Mannequin Soldiers”) doing the See-Speak-Hear No Evil poses, and Alphonse Elric looking pissed. Aw shit May’s getting chased by Zombies in the tunnels! Run May! Run Shao May! Screw Envy, leave him to get eaten by the monsters! She screams at Envy for tricking her while he yells that her source of Immortality is still further inside, then she takes a moment to lay a beautiful if ineffective beatdown on some Zombies before catching oh shit I was joking about Envy getting eaten nobody deserves- Uh oh. [Envy]: “I’m baaaack!” Soooo, Envy’s kind of… melded with the Zombie, who ate another Zombie and then melded with all of the other Zombies to make Titan!Envy, who shrunk down into standard Envy. Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a Goth back in play. Crap. In the village near the Dome, Yoki’s panicking at the Military presence, trying to persuade Marcoh to stay quiet and not draw attention to themselves. But Marcoh’s upset at not doing anything. Also, what’s that smoke coming from the Dome? Pride’s sauntering out, Kimblee actually sounds a bit unnerved at the news that Pride ate another Goth. Pride’s justifying it as them coming from the same father, they’re just in a combined form again. Oh hey, Lion’s still alive! Kinda. Not looking or sounding too good, though. Al rushes forward damnit he just got grabbed by Pride’s shadows, he’s gonna get possessed again and Ed’ll have to fight him damnit. But Al transmutes the ground for a Big Boom, ok so dust to block out the shadows? Or not, Pride still has Al’s feet… aha! He only has Al’s feet! Al pulled a Lan Fan! Back to Battle Drum music as Armstrong the Great’s fighting Sloth, who’s smashing up the room with his chains. Armstrong the Great, honey, don’t waste your bullets on Sloth, it’s doing nothing. Maybe your sword? Damnit Military grunts, stop bothering Armstrong the Great by threatening to shoot her for treason. See, that’s what you get for threatening Armstrong the Great, she just dodges so you take the hit from Sloth. Thanks for the grenade, btw! So that’s not going to do much to Sloth (besides be funny as he “Huh?”s at the grenade right in his face, but maybe Armstrong the Great can use the smoke to- [Sloth]: “Hey, look! I caught you! And this time, I won’t mess up.” Well that aint good. Sloth’s got her trapped against a pillar and is squeezing her to death, Armstrong the Great’s actually in pain and-

YES [The Mighty Armstrong]: “HEELLLOOO, SISTER! AAAARRREE YOOOOOU ALLLRIGHT?! HAH HAH!” *sparkles and explosion because AWESOME* He’s back! The Mighty Armstrong is back, and after sending Sloth flying with a single punch is ready to fight alongside his snarky sibling! Armstrong the Great updates The Mighty Armstrong on the plot (that’s a Goth, bullets are useless, I want my tanks back). [The Mighty Armstrong]: “You don’t say? *sparkle* Fortunately dear sister, that is my specialty! Why don’t you let your brother have a crack at it! I’ll take this atrocity down! Come on, you monster!” [Sloth]: “Ugh. What a pain.” Hey! Hey hey hey don’t you skip away from the Armstrong Fight! Go back to Best Characters! Ugh, ok fine Al’s current situation of trying to drag a grievously wounded Lion away from the dome while his own legs are stumps is sufficiently dramatic enough I’ll accept the scene switch. This time. But yeah, Al and Lion are in a tough spot. Lion’s even telling Al to leave him behind, which Al is having none of. But really now, Al’s down a few limbs, when the dust clears they’ll be facing Kimblee and Pride together, and Lion’s coughing up blood. Now Al’s knee has blown out and he’s resorting to beating the crap out of it in frustration. [Lion]: “You brothers… are really something else… You’re still determined to help another person, even when you’re falling to pieces yourself.” Now Al’s talking about his promise, to never let anyone else die. So now the show’s going to either force Al to break his promise abandon Lion at the Chimera’s insistence, or he’ll keep trying until the dust fades and Pride walks up and kills Lion before repossessing Al’s armor anyway. This sucks- wait, what’s Lion have in his pocket?

HOLY LETO IT’S THE PHILOSOPHER’S STONE! I completely forgot that Lion pocketed it ages ago after Ed’s injury. Has the dude been carrying around one of the setting’s most prized MacGuffin’s in his pocket this whole time? Dude. Also, is this going where I think it’s going?

So they’re discussing the dilemma: with their own Stone they might be able to fight against the other guy armed with one and the ‘kid’ powered by two, but if they use the Stone they’ll be using the souls used in making it. And if I remember, this was Kimblee’s first stone, the one made with Ishvalan Sacrifices. Lion talks about Ed’s conviction to not use Stones on their bodies. Instead, he says to “use it to save the entire world instead”. [Lion]: “You deserve it. Because even if they’ve been put into that Stone, you still recognize them as people. I know… those people… even though they’re trapped in Stone, they still want to fight to protect what matters to them. Let them fight. They deserve the chance!” I’m picturing the Ishvalans in the stone cheering. “Heck yeah let’s kick some ass! That jerk in the tacky suit used us to murder our own people, we want to tear him apart!” Al agrees. They’ll fight together. Thank you. For all my ranting at not using the Stone to heal Ed back then, I can appreciate this take. Using a Stone is Wrong, and it cannot be something that our Protagonists ever truly accept. But when faced with no other options, and using it specifically to help others, not themselves, it is acceptable that Al uses the Stone to fight back. Outside the cloud Kimblee asks if he should blow it away, but Pride’s overconfident and says they’re trapped without Al’s legs- BOOM! Flash of red, Kimblee loses his hat in the windblast, and Al strides out on newly-Transmuted legs. Kimblee smiles. New Outro! We’ve got… I can’t tell if it’s Beardless or Al, going by the stonework I’m going to assume Beardless. Still Beardless, hair blowing in the wind...still Beardless...still Beardless...what is the whole Outro just Beardless never mind it just switched to Mama Elric’s grave, then a crowd of Xerxes folk hey it’s that picture Keaton used to show Xerxians have no black outline to their hair. Then either Beard or Uncle walking through the desert in a white cloak, and the Elric Household complete with the swing that Beard nearly broke his back setting up. Whoop speaking of we have a grumpy Beard surrounded by white light and shattering stone, then Homunculus sulking in his flask. Also, A+ on putting the only credit this screen (Mixing Engineer Adrian Cook) right in front of the one-eyed circle monster.

Ooh, but now we’ve got an orbital view of the planet, with a giant circular shock wave coming off of it. Implying the Nationwide TC is activated? Now Ed looking serious in his red coat, and poor skinny Al’s soul smiling in front of the Gate. Now it’s his armor form standing in front of a sunset (Ending Theme “Ray of Light”), and a final shot of the road leading to the Rockbell home.

[mamthew]

A Final Fantasy Ranking

Over the course of the quarantine, and because I had such a good time with the Final Fantasy VII Remake, I've ended up blazing through a ton of Final Fantasy games. Since April, I've played IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX, X, XII, and XIII. 6, 7, 9, and 10 I'd beaten before. 4, 12, and 13 I'd played to some capacity before. 5 and 8 were completely new experiences. I had no interest in going further back than IV, since it was the first one to really put any effort into character work, and I didn't play either MMO because MMOs don't really appeal to me (I'm planning to try XIV whenever this new update drops that makes the story mode more accessible, but it keeps getting pushed back so oh well). I also didn't replay XV because I've played XV three times and watched other people play it in its entirety twice, so I have a much better handle on it than any other game in the series.

Anyway, I didn't really have any plans for what I'd do with this, besides get a better understanding of the series as a whole, but I was kinda inspired to do my own Final Fantasy ranking. I'll probably be a bit more detailed than I should be because I tend to overanalyze my media and end up having too much to say. I’m actually not placing VII Remake in this ranking half because I regard it as a spinoff and half because it’s not yet a complete story, even though Part 1 is unquestionably a complete game. If I were to put it somewhere, it would probably be close to the top, possibly even in second place. Also worth noting that this is gonna have SPOILERS for every game I discuss here. I really just wanna use this as a place to nail down some of my thoughts on these games, so they’re pretty stream of consciousness and I didn’t bother avoiding any details from the plots.

10: Final Fantasy VIII.

I don’t think there’s another game in the series with a more obvious corporate hand in it than VIII. It’s kinda the Fant4stic of FF games; there are the bones of a substantive game in there somewhere, but every aspect of the game is such a bald attempt at checking off a 1999 list of “things gamers want” that the whole affair feels hollow and sickening. A major trend I’ve noticed throughout this series is the extent to which FFVII’s success pushed the architects of almost every subsequent game to try to recapture whatever it was that worked about VII, and VIII got the worst of it. It’s got the sullen guy with a special sword. It’s got the sci-fi. It’s got the terrorists with hearts of gold fighting against an oppressive state. It’s got the train scenes. It’s got the case(s) of amnesia that hides the true premise of the story. It’s got the ability to give any character any loadout.

Besides that, they kinda crammed in just a bunch of stuff popular with kids at the time. Jurassic Park? It’s in there. Beauty and the Beast? Here’s the ballroom scene. Hunchback of Notre Dame? Here’s that carnival. Alien? Now you’re alone on a spaceship running away from a horror monster. Saving Private Ryan? The party shares brains with war veterans and dreams of their experiences at war I guess. Half of anime? It’s all about a high school for mercenaries and the party is trying to get back in time for the school festival.  Fandom culture? Zines are a collectible item, and each one you find adds an update to Selphie's Geocities page. It also has astronauts, and transformers, and a haunted castle, and a prison break, and Rome, and Alpine Wakanda, and war crimes, and lion cubs that have attained enlightenment, and there’s almost no connective tissue from one idea to the next.

Also the junction system is convoluted and terrible, using magic makes your stats worse, all enemies level up every time you do, and I couldn’t tell you which character excelled in what stats. The characters were all very flat, and the first time I felt like I was seeing the characters interact in ways that helped me to understand them was in the cutscene that plays during the end credits.

Also the female lead’s role in the story changes entirely with no warning every five hours or so. She’s a terrorist, oh no she’s aristocracy in the country she’s terroristing against, oh no she’s jealous of the others because they grew up together and she didn’t, oh no she’s Sandra Bullock in Gravity, oh no she’s the villain and it’s too dangerous to let her out, oh no it’s actually fine and they were bad for locking her up.

It’s an absolute disaster of a game. However, the music and background art is absolutely beautiful. Maybe they never gave me a good enough reason to be in an evil time traveling haunted castle, but damn is it a gorgeous rendering of an evil time traveling haunted castle.

9: Final Fantasy XII.

I’ve known for years that FFXII had issues in development. The writers came up with a story for it, and execs got scared because there were no young characters and they’d convinced themselves that young protagonists are what makes games sell. So two more characters - Vaan and Penelo - were added, one was framed as the protagonist of the story, and the entire story was rewritten so it could feasibly be from his perspective.

While the two characters they added are egregiously tangential to the plot, XII honestly has no protagonist. The writers originally wanted Basch to be the protagonist, but his entire arc is really just following Ashe around and being sad about his evil twin. Ashe is probably the most important to the story, but doesn’t have much presence for a good chunk of the story, and makes her most character-defining choice offscreen before having it stolen from her by a side character. Balthier has the largest presence in the story, and is most closely related to most of the events of the story, but has pretty much no role in the ending.

Honestly, if I were writing FFXII and told it needed a young protagonist, I would have aged up and expanded the role of Larsa, the brother of the main villain, who shows up as a temporary party member from time to time. The entire game is about family ties, and a journey spotlighting Larsa could have involved his learning about Ashe, Basch, Balthier and Fran’s family situations and using their experiences to grapple with his own. Damn, now I’m sitting here thinking about how good that could have been.

As it is, the game feels disjointed and aimless, and the ending is so bad it’s farcical. When I reached the ending, I watched Basch and Ashe forgive Basch’s evil twin for his villainy rampage, harking back to the moment earlier in the game when Ashe turned down the chance to gain powers that would have allowed her to avenge her country because she realized that those powers could also drive her to hurt innocents in the crossfire. In this moment, I realized how Vaan fit in as the protagonist of the game. “Oh, he’s going to realize that violence begets violence, and that he must break the cycle by forgiving Vayne for the death of his brother. He’s going to let go of that hatred he’s been trying to push onto someone for so long, and it’ll finally allow him to heal.” I realized that even though the road to this point was rocky, the writers had managed to craft a satisfying ending from the seemingly disparate pieces of this uneven plot.

And then Vaan picked up a sword and screamed AAAAAAAAAAA and charged Vayne down and stabbed him, and Vayne turned into a shrapnel robot dragon and exploded all the star wars ships and I threw my controller aside and laughed uncontrollably while my characters beat him up and completed the game on their own without any further input from me.

Oh yeah, the battle system is also incredibly boring. Instead of battling, the player writes up an AI script for each character, then lets them act based on those scripts. I would straight up put the controller down and watch youtube videos whenever a group of enemies showed up. I was pretty excited about the job system, but then there didn’t really feel like much of a difference between jobs, and my characters all behaved pretty much the same as each other.

The hands-off battle system, unfocused story, lethargic voice acting, and tuneless music all left me pretty uninvested in the whole affair. The art style and locations are beautiful, though, and it did make me want to eventually check out some of the Tactics games, which take place in the same universe but are supposed to have excellent stories and gameplay.

8: Final Fantasy XIII.

I’m not sure I’ve ever had two such opposing opinions of a game’s story vs. its gameplay. This game is the only one that plays with a bunch of story elements from FFIX, which did a lot to endear it to me. It’s sort of a game in which the protagonists are Kuja, the villain of IX. Like Kuja, they are created as tools by an uncaring god for the purpose of fighting against one world on behalf of another world, and are subsequently forced to grapple with the horrors of having an artificially shortened lifespan.

The story actually has a lot of Leftist themes, too. The gods of that universe spread ideology among the populace, and the people unquestioningly believe these false stories, as the gods have provided for them for as long as there has been written history. Much of the character arcs center on the characters being forcibly removed from their places within those ideological frameworks and having to unlearn what they’d always believed to be objectively true about the world.

So the story actually is pretty good, but it’s held back by some really clumsy storytelling; it constantly uses undefined jargon, has almost no side characters with which it might flesh out the world, actively fights against players trying to glean information from environmental details, and maintains (at least for me) a weird disconnect between the characters in the gameplay and the characters in the cutscenes. I think this partly stems from Square’s original failed plan for FFXIII to be the first game in a much larger series of games sharing themes and major story details. Despite these issues, however, the characters are all likeable and (mostly) believable, and their interactions are grounded in real emotional weight even while their universe feels intangible.

This all got dragged down by the gameplay, which is total dogshit. It’s got the worst battle system I think I’ve seen in an RPG. The game only stops being doggedly, unflinchingly linear about thirty hours in, the whole game took me about fifty hours, and I spent the last fifteen hours beating my head against each individual battle, waiting until the system hiccuped long enough to accidentally slide me a win. That meant I had about a five hour window of euphoric play, convinced that I actually loved this game, thrilled with every new experience it gave me, and excited to see what would happen next. I guess those five hours are what pushed this game over XII in my ranking.

7: Final Fantasy V.

Until FFXV, this game was the last of the “Warriors of Light” games, in which the game follows a party of four set characters for its entirety. To this day, it’s the last of the “Warriors of Light” games to let the player customize which character holds which roles through the job system.

FFV’s job system is the reason to play the game. Its story is mediocre, and its characters are all fairly flat, but there’s something viscerally satisfying about building party members up in jobs that might enhance the role they ultimately will fill. For my mage character, I maxed out Black Mage, Blue Mage, Mystic Knight, Summoner, and Geomancer. Then at the end, I switched her to a Freelancer with Black Magic and Summoning, and she kept all the passive skills for those jobs and also the highest stats across those jobs.

It was super fun and kind of a shift of focus for me, since I tend to place story above anything else in games. Despite the story not being special, though, the game’s writing is actually a ton of fun. It’s definitely got the most comic relief in the series, and I came away loving Gilgamesh as much as everyone else does.

And while it’s nothing special graphically, it does have some really cool enemy designs, and the final boss design is one of the most memorable ones they’ve ever done. Which is impressive because I keep having to look up Exdeath’s name because the character himself is super forgettable.

6: Final Fantasy IV.

This wasn’t the first game in the series to feature actual characters with names and depth, but I have no interest in playing FFII, so it might as well be. I actually played the DS Remake for this game, so it definitely had some quality of life improvements, like full 3d characters and maps, voice acting, an updated script, the ability to actually see the ATB gauge, and the ability to switch to other characters whose turns are ready without using a turn.

Apparently one thing the remake didn’t do was rebalance the difficulty for more modern sensibilities. Instead, this remake is...harder? It requires more grinding than the original? Why??

Either way, though, the story is actually solid! The game opens on its protagonist, Cecil, committing a war crime on the orders of his king, who raised him as a child. The first ten hours of so of the game follows Cecil as he tries to understand why he was ordered to kill so many innocents, turns his back on his country, and works to redeem himself.

This arc is reinforced by the game mechanics, too, which is super clever. His redemption is marked by a change in job from a Dark Knight to a Paladin, which also resets his level. For a time, his life is considerably harder because he’s finding his footing as a new person, which is marked by battles which had been easy becoming much harder for the player for a time.

This game places storytelling over gameplay more than I think any other game in the series. Each character is locked into a job, which I much prefer in my RPGs to games where characters function pretty much interchangeably. I dunno if it’s because I cut my RPG teeth on Tales, but it really bugs me when I can give Tifa the exact same loadout as Barret. I want the lives of the characters to bleed into their functions as gameplay devices.

However, the developers clearly had a ton of different jobs they wanted to add to their game, but hadn’t figured out how to allow for the player to switch in and out party members in standby. To fix this, they increased the in-battle party to five characters rather than or four (or the later constantly frustrating three), rotated the roster a ton, and had a ton of characters who straight up leave permanently. One character dies and never comes back. Two characters die and only are revived after it’s too late to rejoin the party. Four characters end up too injured to continue traveling.

This let the developers make a ton of jobs, but it doesn’t let the player exploit these jobs to their fullest. Characters’ stats reflect their role in the story, as well. One character is quickly aging out of adventuring, so his magic stats increase on levels, but his attack and defense stats actually decrease, signifying his failing body. Another character has already achieved some form of enlightenment, so he gains no stats when he levels up at all. The purpose of IV is the story, over any other aspect of the game, which makes it even more mindboggling that the remake would have increased the difficulty.

Besides that, the biggest issue I had with this game was the overbearing constant drama of it. While there were a few more lighthearted parts, they were mostly relegated to NPC dialogue and sidequests. The characters in this game don’t become friends so much as they become companions who bonded over shared tragedies, and this makes for quite a few scenes of every character separately wallowing in their own immeasurable sadness. I played FFV directly after this game and the light story and jokey dialogue was a much-needed palette cleanser.

5: Final Fantasy VI.

Before the unexpected success of FFVII irreparably changed the franchise, Square constantly mixed up the story formula for the series. IV, V and VI all handled their stories really differently from each other, and what I remember of III also felt fairly different from the games that came after.

Every game from VII on had a very clear protagonist (except XII, whose botched protagonist was still clearly marketed as the protagonist). The concept of the Dissidia crossover series is built on the idea that every FF has a protagonist at the center of its story. FFVI’s Dissidia character is Terra, but Terra is not the protagonist of FFVI.

Apparently while developing FFVI, the directors decided they didn’t want the game to have a clear protagonist, so they asked the staff to staff to submit concepts for characters, and they’d use as many as they could. This game has fourteen characters, each with their own fun gameplay gimmick in battles. Three of the characters are secret, and one can permanently die halfway through if the player takes the wrong actions. Of these fourteen characters, the main story heavily revolves around 3-6 of them, while five more have substantial character arcs.

There’s kind of a schism in the fandom over whether this game or VII is the best one in the series, and I can see why; this game is absolutely fascinating. No other game in the series has done what this game did, which means it’s one of the two FF games I really want to see remade after they complete this VII remake.

The first half is very linear. It breaks the beginning party into three pieces, then sends each character to a different continent, where they meet more characters and build their own parties before everyone reunites. Once the story has taken the player everywhere in the world, the apocalypse hits. The villain’s evil plan succeeds and tears the entire world apart.

The second half of the game picks up a year later with one character finally getting a raft and escaping the island on which she’s been marooned. In this half, the player navigates the world, which has all the same locations, but in completely different parts of the map. The driving factor for much of the second half is to learn from incidental dialogue where each party member has gone in this new world, to track them down, and to try to fix some of the bad that’s been done to the world before finally stopping the villain who destroyed it.

It’s unique and clever and occasionally legitimately tugs at the heartstrings some, which is impressive for a poorly translated SNES game. The final dungeon is a masterpiece all on its own. It requires the player to make three parties of up to four characters, then send them in and switch between them as new roads open. This way, the game manages to feel like an ensemble piece up to the very end.

4: Final Fantasy VII.

As I previously mentioned, there’s kind of a schism in the fandom over whether FFVI or FFVII is the best game in the series. Neither is the best game in the series. FFVII is better than FFVI. Oops.

When I was first drafting up this list, it was before I’d reached my replays of VI or VII, and I tentatively placed them next to each other, with the strong assumption that I’d end up placing VI a bit higher than VII, since it has so many strongly differentiated characters with solid story arcs, beautiful artwork, great music, etc. etc. Then I reached FFVII and not even four hours in, I realized it would have to be higher on my list than VI.

VI has a better battle system, its characters are much more differentiated by their gameplay, its character sprites have aged much better than VII’s character models, and it has four party members in battles instead of three. But I couldn’t overlook VII’s gorgeous artwork, sharp character work, and character-driven story. In the end, I had to give it the edge.

VII is a strange beast. It simultaneously really holds up and has aged horribly. The story is excellent and I love the characters, but the actual line-to-line writing is pretty bad, making the whole experience of the game a bit like swimming upstream; you’re getting somewhere good, but the age of the game is still pushing you back the best it can. Similarly, the background artwork is fantastic and gives the game locations a sense of place incomparable to anything that had come before it, but the character models are so low-poly that the two are constantly at odds with each other.

Still, the game is more a good game than it is an old one. I think it’s managed to duck the absurd level of hype around it by actually being very different from what the most popular images of it make it out to be, if that makes sense. The super futuristic techno-dystopia city only makes up a very small portion of the larger game, and most newcomers to the game won’t have seen Junon, or Corel, or Cosmo Canyon. Heck, I didn’t know Cait Sith or Red XIII were characters before I played the game for the first time. One of the many reasons I’m excited for the rest of this remake is to see newcomers to the story learning just how much variety there is to the world, events, and characters of this game.

FFVII also began (and pulled off really well) a number of storytelling trends that continued in subsequent games in the series. Obviously, almost every game since this one has a clear protagonist with a cool sword for cosplayers to recreate, and an androgynous villain whose story is closely linked to the protagonist (or one villain who is linked to the protagonist and a second one whose purpose is to look like Sephiroth), but it’s started broader, more quality shifts, too.

FFVII is the first game in the series to try to give all its characters arcs based on a similar theme, for example, a trend that has helped give it and future games a sense of thematic unity, especially in IX, X, and XV. Heck, that trend was why I almost came around on XII before they nuked it. It was also the first game in the series to have a real ending, rather than closing out with essentially a curtain call featuring all the party members, like they did in IV through VI (and I assume earlier).

Another common feature of FF games that it didn’t start with VII but certainly was canonized with it was the mid-game plot twist tying the protagonist to both the villain and the larger story. FFIV had this as well, of course, but I feel like the orphanage twist in VIII, the Zanarkand dream twist in X, and the time skip twist in XV were all meant to recall VII’s twist of Cloud’s…very complex existence (IX’s two worlds twist actually is a clear homage to IV, but it’d be hard to argue that Zidane’s connection to Kuja - and the character of Kuja generally - weren’t more influenced by VII).

2: Final Fantasy X and Final Fantasy XV.

Sorry, this one is a two-fer. I’m not gonna spend too much time on why I placed these two together in the #2 spot (I wrote a long thing on it here, if you’re interested). In summary, the games kinda mirror each other, in story and design. Each game can be seen in the negative space of what the other game leaves out, and at the end, the characters react to similar situations in completely opposite ways. For this reason, and that they’re of comparable quality, I think they’re best viewed as companion pieces.

FFX was the first mainline Final Fantasy game I ever completed, six years late. It was the first FF game with voice acting and many fully modeled locations. It also kinda marks the beginning of the series’ constant changes to the battle system.

That’s not to say the previous games’ battle systems didn’t also differ from each other, but they all had the same setup, with levels and an ATB gauge. This was the first game since III not to have any real-time element to its battle system, nor numbered levels gained through experience points. Since X, no two FF battle systems have been remotely comparable, which is cool and innovative and keeps things fresh, but also means I’ve been starved for just a regular ATB FF game for too long.

In many ways, FFX feels like a bridge between the PS1 games and the later games. It feels much more streamlined than VII, VIII, or IX, in terms of both storytelling and design. The game is very linear, pushing the player from one area to the next and not allowing much backtracking until the very end. It also loses the aging look of the PS1 games’ menus and UI, finally updating the classic font and the blue menus with white borders to fully modernized and sleek graphics.

However, movement still feels very similar to movement in VIII and IX, the music definitely evokes the PS1 games more than the later games, and most locations are portrayed with beautifully painted backgrounds, rather than modeled in (which I actually prefer, and I was glad to see that VII Remake has gone back to that in some places).

Voice acting in this game is phenomenal for 2001, and honestly on par with many contemporary games. I can’t think of a voice actor for the main cast who didn’t do a great job. Tidus’s narration, especially, is emotional and evocative in all the right ways. Grounding the plot in a very personal story about Tidus’s difficulty coming to terms with and proving himself to his abusive father keeps the story relatable and real.

Something interesting about my experience with X is that because it was my first Final Fantasy game, I thought for a very long time that the series was about organized religion, and the ways it is used to justify evil acts. This might be the only game of the ones I’ve played that is about organized religion, or even prominently features a religious doctrine, which really sets it apart from the rest of the series.

The game’s thematic unity is on point, even if there is a scene where they state the central themes a bit too plainly. Every character, and even the entire universe of the story, is held back by the past, and every subplot and the main plot revolves around finding ways to move forward and leave the past behind.

I love FFXV. It feels like a return to form after XII and XIII. It’s also probably the furthest any game in the series has strayed from the original formula. Battles are entirely real-time, and the game is a straightforward action game. There is very little time spent with menus, and even the leveling system has been stripped down to a few skill trees. It’s immediately obvious that the game was originally created to be a spinoff, not a main title.

FFXV is also probably too much a product of the current era of microtransactions and payment plans. The full story is spread out across *deep breath* a feature film, an anime series, an anime OVA, a standalone demo, two console games, four DLC story chapters, a multiplayer side game, a VR fishing game, four phone games (though really three phone games because A New Empire straight up isn't in that universe and also is terrible), an expansion including several entirely new dungeons, and finally a novel set to release sometime this year. That’s a whole lot of story. I’ve not played the phone games or the VR fishing game, or read the novel yet, but I’ve experienced all the rest.

But I also played FFXV when it first released, before any patches, before I knew there was a film, just the game all on its own. So you can believe me when I say that without any supplementary material, the game is still great.

It goes back to the FFI, II, III, V “Warriors of Light” system, where the party has four characters who do not change at all throughout the game. While this bugged me at first, I soon came to appreciate having a story where almost all character interactions involved these four characters. It meant I came to understand them well enough to feel like they were my friends, too. Most characterization in this game is understated, presented through small shared moments, dialogue, and body language as they travel the world together. Much like X, the overarching story might be expansive and far-reaching, but the real show is in the personal journeys the friends have.

Much of the first half of the game is spent exploring an open world, driving along the road and getting out of the car for pit stops or to explore the forests nearby. This is one of the very few games where I don’t mind just exploring an area without the promise of an upgrade or a new scene, just to see what’s around the corner, or to hear whatever banter the characters might engage in next.

The entire world of this game is gorgeous, and the orchestrated music is some of the best they’ve ever done. The main plot is beautiful, too. It’s bittersweet and emotional, with a charismatic villain and a twist that blew me away the first time I reached it.

The supplementary material is also mostly really quality. I’d recommend the Royal Edition over the original edition for sure, and to watch Kingsglaive as well. The anime series is quick and fairly fun, and Comrades expands on the universe in some great ways, but neither has as much bearing on the overall plot as the DLC chapters and Kingsglaive. I’m so in love with the DLC chapters, actually, that two years ago I wrote a piece just on how much Episode Ignis affected me (here if you care).

This is definitely getting long, so I guess I’ll move on after saying I’m upset that they patched Chapter 13 to make it easier, and I’m angry at everyone who complained that Chapter 13 was too hard. It was a brilliant piece of storytelling through game mechanics, and it’s mostly been stripped of all that, now.

1: Final Fantasy IX.

It’s IX. It was always IX. I actually did come into this with an open mind, wondering if one of the new games I’d experience (IV, V, VIII, XII, XIII) might end up hitting me harder than Final Fantasy IX, but as I replayed my favorite game in the series I quickly realized that wouldn’t be happening.

There are only a handful of games that make me cry. IX is one of two without voice acting. There are several songs from IX that make me tear up just when I hear them.

The story of the black mages gaining sentience, learning that they can die, and trying to force themselves back into being puppets just to lose that knowledge really moves me. The same goes for the story of Dagger no longer recognizing her mother, setting out to find a place to belong, learning that her birth family is long dead, then watching her mother return to her old self a moment before losing her forever. And Zidane’s story, where he has nowhere to call home, finally discovers the circumstances of his birth, and realizes that had he stayed in his birthplace, he would have become a much worse person than he ultimately did.

More than any other, though, Vivi’s story will always stick with me. He was found as a soulless husk by Quan, a creature with the intention of fattening him up and eating him, but each of them awoke something in the other, and Quan ended up raising Vivi as his grandson. When Quan passed, a rudderless Vivi went to the city to find a new home, and eventually learned he was created as a weapon. Other weapons had also gained sentience, but none had the worldliness that Vivi had gained from his loving relationship with Quan. When Vivi discovers that most weapons like him die after only a few months, he grapples with the possibility that he may die at any time, and eventually decides that he can only take control of what life he has by living each moment to the fullest. He ends up becoming an example for the other weapons to follow.

FFIX is a game about belonging: both yearning to have somewhere to belong and learning that the place where you think you belong is actually toxic and harmful to you. Even the menu theme is a tune called “A Place to Call Home.”

IX ran counter to the trends of the series in a number of ways. It was a return to high fantasy after the more sci-fi VII and VIII, and was also much more lighthearted than those games, while still being heartfelt and occasionally bittersweet. Gameplay-wise, it locked each of its characters into a single job, gave them designs based on their jobs, brought back four-character parties, and introduced a skill system in which characters learn skills from equipment. It also had a much softer, less realistic art style, and mostly avoided the attempts to recapture VII that have plagued most other subsequent titles (besides Kuja’s design, I guess).

The story is also structured so well. It regularly shifts perspective for the first thirty hours, allowing the player to spend ample time with each of the party members, and shaking up character combinations for fun new interactions. It introduced a system similar to the skits from Tales games, showing the player often humorous vignettes of what’s happening to other characters at the time. Once the characters have all come together in one party, the game has earned the sense that all of them (except for the criminally underexplored Amarant) have become a family.

The supporting cast are a blast as well. Zidane’s thief troupe (who double as a theater troupe) are likeable and fun. Kuja’s villain arc allows him to be sympathetic without losing his edge. The black mages are tragic without being overdone.

The development team for this game put so much more work into this game than they had to. The background artwork was all made in such high-definition resolutions that the act of downscaling them to fit in the game removed details. Uematsu traveled to Europe to make sure he’d get the feel of the soundtrack right, and has said it’s his favorite score he’s ever done. Sakaguchi, the creator of Final Fantasy, says IX is his favorite game in the series.

FFIX is one of the two games I would like them to remake after they finish the VII Remake, but I’m terrified they’ll mess it up in some way. Honestly, the game’s only flaws (which I do desperately want them to fix) are a lack of voice acting, the underdeveloped party member Amarant (and to a lesser extent Freya), the dissonance of Beatrix never getting punished in any way for her hand in a genocide, and the fact that very few of the sidequests are story-related because so many of the smaller story details that would normally be relegated to sidequests are covered in the main plot.

Despite the danger, though, I think revisiting IX is absolutely essential moving forward. It represents so much of what made older games like IV and VI great, and its story is much more grounded in real emotion than many current Square stories tend to be. Remaking VII will be good for getting VII out of Square’s system. Remaking IX would be good for putting IX back into Square’s system.

Here’s a IX song as a reward for getting this far. I’m gonna go listen to it and tear up again.

[mrae71]

School’s Out

One thing people didn’t know about my father was that he was an awesome story teller.  According to his tales, he lived quite a life.  I’m not sure how much he told was fact or fiction; I call it fiction presented as fact.  I am currently compiling his stories into a book, and here’s one of them:

School’s Out

                Rudy stared eagerly at the clock, watching the seconds, then minutes tick by as the school year came to a close.  The classroom was like a furnace, not only holding in heat, but seeming to also take it in through the open windows.  He waited eagerly as his teacher, Mrs. Winlock, passed out the year-end reports one by one.

              After handing them all out, she sat down at her desk and said those final, long awaited words to her class of fifth, sixth and seventh graders, “thank you class, see you next year!”  With that the children let out a collective whoop as they quickly gathered their things and left the drudgery of books and assignments behind them.  Except Rudy. He sat quietly perplexed; he hadn’t received a home report.

              “Reuben,” Mrs. Winlock said softly, “stay behind please, I’d like to speak with you.”

              Rudy remained in his seat and nodded.  He liked Mrs. Winlock, she was kind and patient. She came from one of the town’s most prominent and wealthy families, living in a huge Victorian home on acres of land.  She even had servants.  He had heard adults saying that her family used to own slaves, but he never dared ask about it.  First, he was eavesdropping on what was supposed to be a conversation between his aunt and his grandmother, a conversation that he was sternly ordered to see himself away from.  And secondly, even at 11, he knew it would be rude to bring up such a delicate matter.

              Mrs. Winlock waited for the room to empty and then approached the child, envelope in hand.  She sat on the desk beside him and began gently, “first, Reuben,” she always addressed him by his proper name, “I wanted to know, would you like to work for me again this summer?”

              Rudy smiled widely, nodding his head.  He had worked for her all last summer, and enjoyed it ever much, tending the gardens, cutting grass, piling wood, mending fences, tending animals, and generally doing anything that needed doing.  He only worked through the week, leaving his weekends free to fish or play ball and she always invited him inside for a tasty lunch.  “Yes, ma’am, I’d like that.”

              The teacher smiled warmly, “good,” she patted his arm, “I can do $5 a week, plus, just like last year, you’re free to take home some of the produce, fruit, etc. that we won’t require, does that suit you?”

              He nodded eagerly, $5 was a full 50 cents over and above his weekly wage the year before, and the work wasn’t all that hard.

              Mrs. Winlock shoved the few greyish-brown strands of hair that hung from her neat bun behind her ear and took a deep breath before handing Rudy his home report.  She wished more than anything that she could rip it up, call it a huge mistake and welcome the boy as a sixth-grade student the coming fall.  But that wasn’t going to happen.  He simply hadn’t achieved the necessary outcomes to warrant promotion.

              It wasn’t for lack of trying.  Not on her part, and not on his.  Sure, Rudy was like most boys, more interested in what was going on outside than what was happening at the front of the classroom, but he was always quiet, attentive enough and eager to please.  The truth was, Mrs. Winlock, even with over 30 years as a teacher, had no idea what the disconnect was.  Rudy wasn’t stupid, not by a long shot.  He wasn’t one of the many children she’d seen in her career that were just simply slower than most to comprehend.  In fact, she found the young lad very quick to pick things up, especially if he were shown it.

              She remembered the time her husband, a fairly feeble man for 54 after having had a fairly severe stroke which left him with limited mobility on his right side, went outside and showed Rudy just how to prune the tomato plants, cutting the shooters to allow the blossoming vines more room to grow.  He only needed one quick lesson, which was more than the teacher could say for herself. In fact, her husband, Ned, forbade her from ever touching the tomato plants after more than once having hacked them half to death.

              She couldn’t put her finger on it, if she could have, she’d have fixed it, but somehow, whatever she was doing in the classroom wasn’t getting through to the bright-eyed child.  It was as if whatever his mind responded to had nothing to do with classroom teaching and while he was able to slide by with marginally acceptable results until now, as the work became more complex, she saw him fall further and further behind.

              She had thought about doing the charitable thing and pushing him through, reasoning that perhaps the confidence boost would propel the boy to work harder but decided against it.  She knew of other teachers who had done so and if she were honest, she had done it a time or two herself, but the circumstances were different. She normally reserved such mercy for those students who had a track record of turning in good performances and then suddenly, usually due to some issue at home, sometimes something as simple as plain old hunger, had fallen behind.  The fact was Rudy was falling further and further behind with every grade and to advance him to the next grade would serve no one, not the class, not herself and not Rudy.  “Please take this home directly,” she said firmly, handing him the envelope, “do not open it, I want your mother to read it first, do you understand?”

              Rudy nodded.  He knew what it said anyway.  The entire year had been a long series of F’s and “please try agains”.  It didn’t take any sort of eminent scholar to see the writing on the schoolhouse wall.  “Yes, ma’am, Mrs. Winlock, I will.”

              The teacher chocked back her tears and turned her head momentarily to compose herself.  She didn’t want Rudy to see her upset.  She didn’t want to upset him.  She cared a great deal for the lad.  In fact, she could readily admit to herself, and to her husband, that he was the favourite of all her students, ever. She imagined had she been able to bear a child, he’d have been much like Rudy, strikingly handsome, tall and wiry, strong as a small ox.  He was hard working and wanted only to please those around him.  He had a surprisingly soft heart that most people didn’t take the time to see.  He seemed to take very well to and to protect the younger children just coming into school and she had caught him more than once cradling or singing to a calf or a lamb in her barn.

She’d spent five years watching him grow and blossom, fight and struggle and she knew about his homelife.  Woodstock wasn’t a big town and talk got around.  She knew the black eyes and bruises he often sported came from the hand of his father after downing more than his share of whiskey.

              She didn’t know Reuben Senior as a younger man but had heard the stories.  He was once just like his son, sweet, tender hearted but with a steel exterior.  He had somehow managed to lie his way into military service in 1916, stating his age as 18 rather than 16 in order to do his part for the country and as the story goes, he came back from the First World War alive, but forever changed.  But that wasn’t the straw that broke the camel’s back she knew.  He came back more aggressive for sure and made a name for himself as quite a good boxer.  But years later, when young Rudy was just a baby, he and Thea lost a child, baby Grace. Mrs. Winlock was given to understand that the 10-month-old was a perfectly healthy infant until suddenly falling ill and passing away some five or six days later.  It seemed Reuben senior never recovered from the loss and his aggression quickly turned to red hot anger and the occasional drink with the guys turned into binge drinking to the point of blackout.

              Rudy, she knew got the brunt of his father’s aggression and she worried for the child, wondering what this home report would bring.  Sober, he seemed a decent enough sort, she’d spoken to him several times and he was quick witted, but quiet, almost charming.  However, fueled by drink, he often sought his oldest son out and took out his frustrations on him.  It was as though the child, who was in fact, visually, the very picture of his father thirty years prior, represented all the unfulfilled hopes, plans, and dreams he had that never worked out.  What better way to address what you see as your shortcomings than to beat up on your younger self?  Well, except for the fact, he was beating on his son.  She shook her head, trying to make the awful thought disappear, “Reuben, please, promise me, you’ll take this directly to your mother, she begged, sounding a little more desperate than she had intended.

              Rudy agreed and was dismissed.  He walked outside into the late-June heat and found the school yard empty.  He walked toward home, just far enough to get out of sight.  He darted behind a group of trees and opened the envelope. He scanned it furiously, not wanting to be caught.  He skipped over the individual subject reports to get to the bottom line, “I regret to inform that Reuben has not met the necessary requirements to be promoted and will be required to repeat fifth grade.”  His heart sank and he sat down behind the tree and cried, his head in his knees.  He knew it was coming, but he hoped, naively, as children do, that maybe, just maybe, it would all be okay, but there it was in print.  He mourned the defeat, dried his tears and after a few moments, stood up and walked home, knowing exactly what he would do.

              When he arrived home, he saw his mother surrounded by many of his siblings, all basking in her praise.  Of course, Althea was front and centre, basking in her triumph. Having jut turned 13 the month before, she was quickly taking on the bearing of a young woman.  She was slender, curvy and had a pretty face which boys were starting to notice.  However, she had very little time for local boys or their nonsense.  She had plans, plans to become a teacher and later a wife and mother.  She was to spend her summer minding Dr. and Mrs. Baldwin’s eight children and taking in sewing in her free time. She was to be paid $3 a week, but she kept some for herself.  He didn’t understand all the ins and outs of it, but his mother explained that young women needed pocket money for important things, things only women understood.  He imagined it had something to do with dresses or maybe lipstick. She, of course, received glowing marks, and finished top of the seventh-grade class.

              Enid stood right behind her sister, jumping up and down, eagerly awaiting her turn at praise. She was a tiny wisp of a girl, but her personality loomed larger than life.  She did reasonably well this year. Her home reports going forward always read the same, “Enid is capable of exceptional work when she puts her mind to it,” and this year was no exception.  She was a bright girl, there was no doubt, but she had a streak in her, a fierce independence that often bordered on defiance and troubled their mother. The girl was intent on doing things her way.  She wasn’t unruly or disobedient, but had something not often seen in little girls of the time, a sense that she wasn’t supposed to conform to the world, but that in fact it was the other way about, the world should conform to her.  Their grandmother politely called her a “spirited child.”

              Then there was Bobby, he managed to get through second grade unscathed although his teacher opined that “further effort will be required to be successful in coming years.”

              And finally, David, the impish first-grader, complete with a toothless grin.  Sharp as a tack, but inattentive and mischievous.  He was the first to peer out the window at anyone or anything that happened by.  He was also the first first-grader to put a dead frog on Mrs. Mullins’ chair back in October.  He denied it vehemently, but his guilty giggles gave him away.  His older brother Bobby saved him from his father’s beating, claiming responsibility for the prank, something he often did.  In any event, despite his lack of attention and his tendency toward pranks, he got through with better than average grades.

              Rudy lowered his head and when the crowd dispersed, having received an adequate amount of praise, approached his mother, cleared his throat and handed her his home report, “Mrs. Winlock says for you to read this,” his face reddened with shame.  The idea of disappointing his mother killed him.  He knew she worked so hard, especially now, with so many children. There was him, Althea, Enid, Bobby, David, Jimmy, Johnny, and now, baby Francine, just six months old.  She was a pretty baby and from what he could see, fairly well behaved.  She didn’t fuss a lot.  That made eight kids, and he had heard whispers that another may be on the way, but that hadn’t been confirmed.  He kind of hoped not, the house was a tight squeeze as it was, the boys, Bobby, David, Jimmy, and himself, shared one room while the babies, Johnny and Francine shared another.  Althea, who had previously enjoyed the enviable position of having her own room had recently been forced to suffer the indignity of sharing with Enid.  Rudy was sure she hated that, but in true Althea fashion, she accepted the assignment as her duty to the family and said nothing about it.

              Thea turned to her children, still milling about in the living room as Rudy stood beside her, “you all get on outside,” she ordered, “I want to have a talk with Rudy.”

              “But Mama,” Enid whined, “it’s hot.”

              Thea stared hard at the children, her plump brown face set in that way that let them know she meant business, “then go swimming, but scoot, I’ll not tell you a second time.”

              The kids scrambled out the door as their mother told them and Thea turned to her eldest son, “let’s see this, then.”  She knew what was inside.  She gingerly opened the envelope and read it as tear began to stream down her son’s face again.

              Rudy buried his face in her ample bosom, sobbing, “I’m sorry Mama, I’m sorry!”

              She cradled the child gently then took his face in her hands, wiping his tears, “it’s okay, Rudy, I knew it was coming, you’ll just try harder next year.”  She didn’t know why, but she had known for some time that her eldest son struggled with schoolwork.

              Rudy snuffed the snot back from his nose and stood straight, “I’m not going back, ma’am,” he declared, “I’m going to work.”

              Thea looked at the child in disbelief, “you’re 11, what do you think you’ll work at?”

              “I’ll be 12 come January,” he explained, “I’ll do just like Daddy, I’ll join the army, fight in the war, just like him!”

              Fear welled up in his mother.  Thea knew well what war did to her husband and she also knew her son was just impulsive enough to try such a thing, although she also knew he had no chance, even at 12, looking young for his age, of being accepted into any army, it was time for a strong message.  She softly slapped his face with the back of her hand, “you will do no such thing!” she exclaimed, “and I’ll hear no more talk of any army, do you understand?”

              Rudy began to cry again, the slap didn’t hurt physically, she barely touched him.  But his pride hurt desperately.  He nodded in submission, “yes, Mama, I understand.”  Then he added, “but I could continue for a while at Mrs. Winlock’s till after apple season, that’ll take me into October, then I can go work in the woods.” He had it all figured out in his mind and in his young mind, it seemed to be the only reasonable choice.

              Thea softened, “Go on outside and play,” she told him, “I know you’re disappointed, we’ll talk about this nearer the school year, okay?”  She had no intention of allowing him to quit school.

              Rudy agreed, quietly set in his intention never to return to the classroom.

              The summer went quickly and soon it was time to get ready to return to school.  Thea and Reuben took their eldest son aside to see how he was feeling about repeating fifth grade.

              Rudy stood straight and tall, as tall as an 11-year-old could and informed his parents of his intentions, “I’m not going.”

              Thea, now confirmed to be expecting, yet again, shook her head, “Reuben, don’t start,” she warned.

              The child continued, steel-faced in his opposition, “no, Mama, I’m not going back,” he explained, “Mrs. Winlock says I can stay on ‘till at least October, then I got some work with old man Hawthorne lined up, and I also got a bit over at the general store, only a few hours here and there, but it’ll do us.”

              Thea’s heart sank, “Rudy, you’re a boy, you need your schooling.”  She was devastated, it was hard enough in 1941 to be a black man, but to be a black man with next to no education, the thought terrified her.  She always wanted better for her kids.  She wanted them to achieve, to have the opportunities she and their father never had, to be seen as they were, equal members of the human race.

              Reuben Senior spoke up, “woman,” he said, “we both know the boy ain’t much for the books,” he took a big gulp from his mug, “if he don’t wanna go, maybe we shouldn’t make him.”  Another gulp and he turned to his son and poked him hard in the chest, “but if you ain’t in no kinda school,” he warned, “you’re payin’ room and board!”

              The boy agreed, “of course Daddy,” he said breathlessly, “Mama can have all the money, just like always.”  He always turned over his entire weekly earnings to his mother for household expenses, often refusing her pleas that he take something, even a quarter for himself.  He added, expanding in his long-term plan, “anyway, it’s only ‘till I can get into the army and go into the war like you did, Daddy.”

              His father panicked in his whiskey fueled haze as memories of World War 1 trenches came flooding back faster than he could process them.  The gun fire, the filth, the rain and mud, the slop they passed off as food, and to top it off, the way black solders like him were treated like simple cannon fodder, pushed out to the front lines, never recognized for anything more than boots on the ground, it was all more than he could bear.  He didn’t want his son going through that.  Rage filled him, rage at every white superior that called him boy. Rage at every German that shot in his direction.  Rage at the impetuous, unwitting brat in front of him who had no real idea about the harsh realities of the world.  Before he knew it, his hand was up and he smacked the boy, hard, across the face, knocking him across the room and onto his ass, screaming, “shut up, boy, shut up!”

              Thea jumped between them, begging her husband to stop.

              Enraged and seeing nothing but the life his son would have if he chose the military, he shoved his wife out of the way, sending her into the stove.

              Young Rudy rose to his feet staring his father in the face for the first time in his life, cocked back his fist and punched his father in the jaw with all his might.  It was enough to send the man, now in his early forties and suffering more and more from his war wounds, not to mention the whiskey, stumbling.  “Never hit Mama again,” Rudy screamed, “never, or I will knock you out!”

              Thea took a seat, trying not to cry in front of her son.  Reuben Senior composed himself and looked at his son with a hard, critical eye.  He both loved and hated the child now.  He loved his resolve and strength.  He hated his resolve and strength.  He mostly hated that the boy had shown him up.

              Rudy knew nothing would ever be the same. He knew he couldn’t strike his father and expect to live in his home.  He looked at him and said in an apologetic tone, “Daddy, if I can collect my things, I think it’s best I go to Grannie’s.”

              Thea protested, but her husband overruled her, agreeing with his son.  The house was crowded as it was, and it gave him a quick opportunity to save at least a little dignity.  He agreed with the boy and said sharply, “you got 10 minutes and then I’ll kick you out by the ass!”

[act-addict-actors-matchups]

@navi-chan said,

(♡1♡) Hello ˃ᴗ˂ I wanna know who I match up with in A3 Ｏ(≧▽≦)Ｏ I'm a Virgo and IFJT girl living her life at the moment. I know and think things that are apparently weird (idk why) that makes my friends question on what I do when I'm alone (✿◠‿◠). I'm exactly 5 ft for now (still growing), wavy shoulder-length black hair and I have a fair skin tone cuz I don't like the sun too much XD. I love and enjoy to draw and read stories and articles that captivates my interest.

(♡2♡) I like to travel cuz I want to know the place and it's culture especially its art. I also like to sleep cuz whenever I'm alone and have nothing to do I would feel lonely that is why I tend to sleep the loneliness away. And, I love-hate cuddles (don't attack me pls ( ˃̵⌓˂̵)). LOVE cuz I would feel sense of comfort with the person. HATE cuz I feel like the person might disappear or will leave me behind and I would feel lonely again. Well, that's all (❁´▽`❁)

✧ Tumblr is not letting me tag you. 😔 I hope you’ll see this. Honestly, I really wanted to match you with Azuma but ‘I’m still growing part’ made me feel like you’re a minor so I couldn’t. I can be wrong though lol. Sorry for taking so long and thank you for requesting a matchup, love. 💞✨

I’d match you with: . . .

➜ HOW YOU TWO FIRST MET ; It was a hot summer day and for some reason you’ve made it into your personal mission to do random acts of kindness for the people who were a total stranger to you. So far, you’ve helped old people cross the street, helped someone load their groceries and left a copy of that days’s newspaper on your neighbor’s doorstep. You had to admit, it was a productive day and it wasn’t even midday yet! With your accomplishments for the day, you decided to treat yourself something cold, like ice cream or soda. Just the thought itself made you smile. With a nod of your head, you began walking towards the area that had the shops in it. While walking, you caught a glimpse of a boy in front of vending machine, sulking. He was wearing a short sleeved shirt with black and white patterns on it and a black shalwar like leggings. Ah, you knew what the problem was. The vending machines in this area were famous for eating the coins of people. You were a victim of them yourself many, many times. But with some brain power, you managed to come up with a single move that can get the snack or drink you’ve wanted. You were already on a kindness roll so you might as well help another person out. With a smile on your face, you cleared your throat and shot the boy a knowing look. “Allow me.” You have said before hitting a specific spot with your hip and bam! one of the sodas has dropped. Sticking your arm in, you grabbed the cold beverage and tossed it to the boy, who was looking at you with shining eyes. “Eh!? That was so cool! Teach me how to do it!” A giggle escaped from your lips at how enthusiastic he was being. You could basically see a tail behind him, wagging with anticipation. With a small shake of your head, you flashed a knowing grin as you took a coin out of your pocket and popped it into the machine, pressing the numbers of the drink you’ve wanted. You were planning on buying something cold anyway and this was more convenient for you too. And just as you thought, even though the vending machine took your money, it didn’t give you the drink. You hit the machine one more time and grabbed your drink after it fell down. You popped open the can and took a sip, turning your attention to the red head afterwards, you began to explain how hitting that exact spot was important and if he messed it up even just a little, the money would go to waste. With every word left your mouth, he nodded with serious eyes. After you were done, you took another coin and basically sacrificed it. “Alrighty, it’s now your turn. Give it your best shot!” You said before stepping aside and giving the boy a thumbs up. “Yes, ma’am.” He said before hitting the machine and successfully making the can of soda fall. His bright blue eyes lit up as he throw his fist up. “Hey, I did it! I really did it!” “Haha, congratulations. Make sure to use that power for good.” “You can count on me!” After that exchange you two grabbed your cans of sodas and sat on a nearby bench. He told you that his name was Taichi Nanao, he was a student at Ouka High School and an actor at Mankai Company. After that, you introduced yourself and you two just chatted about whatever came to mind until it was around three pm. Taichi was first to leave since he had practice with Autumn Troupe around an hour later but he didn’t leave without getting your phone number, which you happily gave without much thought.

➜ PERSONALITY COMPATIBILITY ; Taichi is like a puppy, often noisy and upbeat so there is never a dull moment when you two are together. Don’t ever worry about him leaving you behind because he is so whipped for you. In fact, I feel like you both might fear that whole ‘my significant other is to good for me what if they leave me all of a sudden?’ more than necessary. Yes, I said both of you because let’s not forget that under that positive attitude of his, Taichi actually has very low self esteem. What I’m trying to say is words of affirmation and physical touch is your canon love languages, although the later happened less in your earlier stage of relationship. IFJT people are often perfectionists with extremely high standards of performance for themselves so whenever you’re too harsh on yourself having a chill & silly boyfriend would calm you down or whenever he needs to get serious about something (ex. schoolwork because let’s face it, he’s the type of person who does his homework at the very last moment be it on the breakfast table or while the teacher is collecting them) you’re there making sure he’s not destroying his future academically. Those are just basic examples but in short, you two just balance each other out very nicely. Please just marry each other. 🥺

➜ SHARED ACTIVITIES ; Since apparently you do things that are considered weird, now you have a partner by your side to do those things. I feel like the both of you would totally be up to having intense conversations with pets, rating total strangers out of ten or texting each other weird things even though you're in the same room. If not, I can see you two going to a convenience store, buying the magazines that catches your eyes, sitting back to back or with him laying down on his back and you on top of him, making a + form and reading articles until one of you gets bored. If you’ve seen Taichi’s doodle he made in the notebook, you’d know that the boy is at the very least decent at drawing, so even though he might get bored quickly, he would do his best to draw with you. Since you don’t like the sun very much, if he wants to go outside with you he’d wait until late afternoon-evening. When it comes to outdoor dates the first thing came to my mind was amusement park date. Can you imagine how fun it would be to go on the rides with him??? I headcanon that Taichi loves rollercoasters so you bet he’s gonna beg your to go with him. If you freak out, he lets out a laugh and you feel his arm wrap around your waist, pulling you back against him, his other hand is stretched up to the sky.

➜ ZODIAC COMPATIBILITY ; Taichi’s birthday is on October 11 which makes him a Libra. Considering that Libra and Virgo are zodiac neighbours, it goes without saying that the two will be compatible. While Libra is an air sign, and Virgo is an earth sign, the two are as disconnected as they are connected. Virgo is duty-bound and nurturing. While Libra is also a sign that will do what needs to be done, their priority will be more on the reality than the idealistic acts. When Virgo and Libra join together in a love match, it can be like puting two puzzle pieces together. Each locks into the other and sits comfortably in place. Both Signs seek security in partnership, and they share a love of beauty and culture. They can work together efficiently and smoothly because they desire similar rewards. The Virgo-Libra relationship may trickle along in the beginning, but it will rev up once both partners grow to respect one another. Just like any other pairing, this pairing has its own set of pros and cons. Both these personality types have a tendency to be very similar to each other. As such, the suggestion would always be to give this relationship a shot. However, another advice would be to keep your eyes open. While loyalty is the way for both these signs, triggers for a change of duty may be something as simple as their partner not putting the toilet seat down. All the best!

[positivlyfocused]

What a Positively Focused 1:1 Session Looks Like

Prospective clients sometimes ask about what client sessions are like. Some wonder what I do with clients. Let's take that last question first.

I provide context where clients get clear about who and what they are. In that clarity, they find what I found in my own clarity: That they create their life experience ongoingly.

When they find that, life takes a turn. It becomes fulfilling, fun, fantasical seeming, although it's not fantastical, it's just how life works when Positively Focused.

Gradually clients enter their creative powers while learning, or re-learning how their creative powers work. They find happiness, freedom and joy.

I show clients their power and how to get it through a mystical experience that feels like a conversation.

Now the first question:

What are client sessions like?

Client sessions are conversations where I share insights about what my clients talk about. The insights open greater awareness, both for clients and for me. Since I give clients access to me through text and email as well as our in-person sessions, I can share an example of how a session sounds.

The following is an email from a client who lives with his wife. Married many years, Clifton (not his real name) now wants out. He wants out because he finds his situation, including his wife Margo (not her real name either), intolerable.

Behind Clifton's perceptions are belief constellations creating his intolerable situations, including Margo. Clifton is on his eighth session. Already he's seen seemingly extraordinary shifts in his wife. Only they are not extraordinary.

By learning how to create his reality on purpose, Clifton has created a new-to-him version of Margo and a new-to-him version of their marriage. Clifton wants his freedom. But he knows he can't have that until he makes peace with his current reality.

Being Positively Focused does that. It also makes his experience of his changing reality more fun, as you'll read from this email exchange. Clifton gave me permission to share this exchange provided I remove identifying details. The bolded sections are Clifton's comments, with mine following.

^^Photo by Jeremy Yap on Unsplash

It's the dreading one feels liberated from

So, I paid my income taxes today. Almost $4500. I had been dreading it and still haven't filled out a return (though now I have REAL motivation to do so, ha ha), and was thinking , "Send them a crumb" -- which is how I've done it for years. Throw the wolves a bone now and again and they'll back off for a while (until they get hungry again). This year, practically at the last minute, I threw them the whole carcass. It was liberating. I realize that I've always felt "liberated" (at least temporarily) whenever I am able to pay these creditors off at the calends (first of the month), and then I don't have to worry about it anymore. Gives one a feeling of power.

It’s interesting, isn’t it, how something “dreaded” once done turns “dread” into “liberation”. Remember what emotions are about. Then ask yourself: what is it I feel liberation from? Is it really the taxes? Or is it the “dreadful” feeling, which indicates something important, and when freed from that you connect with something that feels comparatively liberating and powerful? Interesting thing to consider.

I have $50,000 tied up, but currently collecting nine percent annual interest compounded, some gold coins and another $10,000 currently tied up in the van (I cleaned it up and put a "For Sale" sign on it, but have yet to put an ad on Craigslist)

Most of the day was spent in that "Joy/Freedom" space. I had a good piano lesson with Sergi (graduate of a music academy in the old Soviet Union - can't recall which, but it was a prestigious one). Earlier that day, I had been looking at a very wide screen monitor, 2nd hand at a local computer store. The store owner called me and informed be the price was almost $400 - more than I cared to pay, and I politely told him so and thanked him for getting in touch. I could have, of course - but I feel I should be spending those dollars on other things. Anyway, sure enough, I had a "hunch" on the way home and stopped at Goodwill. Found a working 48-in. TV that will double very nicely as an entertainment screen and a computer monitor. Price - $50. I liked that a whole lot better than $400. And it's bigger. Yes, the stand's a bit wobbly (probably why it was given away), but I imagine that's just a matter of tightening a screw or two.

Nice job following the hunch. Life is an adventure, or can be, when one connects with All That Is and allows it to lead one to all one wants. It also becomes treasure hunt-ish. Who knows what lies around the next bend or building? And, the best footing from which to play the adventure is in “Joy/Freedom”. Absolutely.

^^Photo by Beth Jnr on Unsplash

Everyone seeks internal connection on their way...

Also feels good to me to reuse and/or repurpose something. That includes composting. I am not a fan of gardening (one source of conflict between Margo and I), but at least composting is a good way to make use of food that has "gone off" and would otherwise be wasted.

See the differing interests between you and Margo as wonderful sources of both joy and variety. Joy in that what you love you love and what she loves she loves…and you both get the same thing from both your loves: connection with your Broader Perspective.

Variety in that, in the relief of your partner’s passion, you, rather than being turned off by that, can turn instead (turn the other cheek) to YOUR passion and feel exactly what she feels when she’s tending to her plants: connection, flow, fun, exuberance.

Then, perhaps, you can feel appreciation – not conflict – when you turn back to what she enjoys, knowing she’s getting from her passion the same thing you get from yours and so your passion and hers are not all that dissimilar.

Not that it matters, or maybe it does - but I was in the market for a large monitor because as a composer, I often work with very large scores - and it is tremendously helpful to see as much of it as possible. Not practical on small monitors.

That you are "in the market" matters. You’re on your way…you’ve been on your way, but also have been resisting the “way”…to your dreams. The monitor is a manifestation – a sign post – indicating your waywardness. I use that word not in it’s traditional definition, which is negative, but in a new way, indicating “toward your way”. The way you connected with that TV indicates your “compliance” with your Broader Perspective.

And just as you were compliant [in such a way you realized previous, important manifestations] and now this manifestation, there will be many more instances of delight on your way….which is why life never creates wham-bang manifestations that happen in an instant like magic. Instant manifestation happens in nonphysical. But in the world of manifested things, All is set up so you can enjoy and savor the JOURNEY towards the destination. Each moment is a realization. The more you come into this conversation, the clearer your awareness and the more you’ll see this statement’s accuracy.

^^Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

Most don't see manifestation evidence because don't know what it looks like

This week, I also had the impulse to add something to an unrelated tweet [on Twitter]. Some actor had put himself out there, advising any directors or producers of his availability and experience.  I retweeted and added that if anyone was looking for a great film composer, please consider me - and added links to samples of my work on YouTube. A couple of people retweeted it...usually, I don't hold out much hope for these sort of things, but one never knows...trying to stay open to the possibilities.

This is a great example of your mixed energies. You don’t hold out much hope, but at the same time you “never know”. So you took action based on hope/who knows…and you saw a tiny manifestation of desire (that someone retweeted the tweet) outweighing your disbelief [expressed as "don't hold out much hope". Most miss these instances of evidence. Now you know it's more evidence of you on your way. Nice.

Like the double recliner I bought for what I plan to be my "apartment/suite." I sleep best in a recliner, which are typically for one --  but when I saw it, I started thinking, "Hmmm...what if I get lucky?" Wouldn't want to live with someone in that space (it's pretty small), but it could be a nice place to entertain... 😆

Enjoy this unfolding process right up until you wake one morning with someone beside you and you get how you manifested them as you manifested the recliner! Objects, people, circumstances…the entire Universe: at your command.

Margo and I have been getting on better, I think. Monday evening, she apologized for being short with me earlier, but she had been feeling poorly (infected insect bites) and just wanted to do the Garbot thing ("I vant to be alone!") I told her I felt her pain and understood completely - but in the future, please just come out and say that. I'll respect it. (Actually, I'm glad to, ha ha)

I’m sure you would be happy to respect it. Isn’t it nice to see the movement forward with her? And didn’t it confirm our conversation about her that whenever someone appears upset with you, it’s never about you? It’s about THEM. ALWAYS.

Their connection (or rather their LACK of connection) to their Inner Being...that’s always the source of negative emotion. So next time you can know…and accept…and then run for the hills, when she indicates disconnection through ornery emotional expression!

Her infection and current state of well-being is also why I am yet again postponing telling her we need to get a divorce. Yes, because I think we have grown in different directions and neither of us are happy in the relationship the way we should be. Officially however, it is for financial reasons.

I have consulted with lawyers and financial advisers, and they basically say the same thing - I will be better able to provide for her if she is not my legal spouse. There is nothing illegal about it, couples often do it because one needs disability payments and it is impossible for one spouse to totally support the disabled one. Also true if they continue to cohabit. I knew someone who continued to live with his ex. And of course, we haven't shared a room for years - and soon, I'll have a whole space, complete with kitchen and bath, to myself. I have put this off for way too long. And I need to do it like, yesterday. But she's feeling bad right now, and she's not terribly stable in general. I am afraid for her.

“Fear” is an emotion. Fear for another indicates you, looking at another and seeing that person differently from how your Broader Perspective sees that same person. Yes, there are aspects of reality you think confirm the “truth” of what you think might happen if she were on her own. And, your strong fear indicates you creating a reality in which you get to witness her being exactly as you are creating her.

And…there’s another version of her you could draw to you and so experience. The same way you’ve done with her and her disconnection caused from insect bites. You are allowing more of the person you know her to be to shine through. But for now, it’s prudent to proceed on this path. It is, for both of you, the path with the least angst. Always a good idea: following that path.

^^Photo by Juan Miguel Agudo on Unsplash

Everything you want is right on your path

Eventually, I really don't want to be living under the same roof with her - but for now, I have been attempting to rebuild some kind of relationship so she knows she's cared about and won't have to worry about her basic needs and won't be abandoned to fend for herself (at this point, it would be like abandoning a child).

Anyway - this is how I must present it. As a strictly financial decision. Nothing else changes. We continue going on as we have, living in the same house (which will continue to be community property). She remains my sole heir and beneficiary. She'll be able to get disability payments and EBT and remain eligible for Medicaid.

The difference is, I'm a free man. Period. What I will do with that freedom or how it will play out, I have no idea, but I'm staying open. She'll be free as well. Gods know, I've tried to encourage her in her writing, and mostly the way she relates to animals. If there was an office of Ambassador to the Animal World (or at least carnivores, bovines and equines), Margo would do the job better than anyone else I know.

All this is good stuff. Mahayana Buddhists would say you’re being her Bodhisattva in creating such a caring landscape for her. It is good as I know you feel good taking this path.

Encourage her in thought, but don’t voice them. Let her and her Inner Being come to the realization wherein she puts her passions into practice and from that she creates a whole new world where money comes into her life easily and swiftly.

Sometimes, I think she'd be happier with her brother, running his huge ranch cabin as a B&B, taking care of the horses and the sheep and the dogs and cats. It's what she spends most of her time and energy on anyway (and she complains about it, but I usually tease her, "You know you love it!") So that's where things stand...I've asked that "Broader Perspective" of mine to let me know when the right moment to announce the divorce is. About all I can do at this point.

Yes. As with the saw, as with the TV, as with everything you want, this is the best path. Do so and watch how easy the conversation goes. The more experiences like these you have, the more convinced you’ll become that this is the only way you want to live: surprised and delighted. Which is how you knew your experience would be when you first decided to come into physical reality.

It's all in the joy

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