#there isn’t any character i want to die but i need them to keep dying so i can have my show

[tallest-tiptoes]

what i love about this show is that it hurts me and comfort me at the same time but the hurt is not what is being comforted

[idcbabyialreadylostmymind]

•Disease

Viktor x God/ess!reader

Synopsis-Viktor is in the verge of death, only a forgotten god can bring him back; what’s his fate?

cw- character death, bad writing, god!reader, writer watched what if when she started this, sexual undertones, kissing, reader is referred as ‘you’, uhhh I gen don’t know what else to put 😭

“I could be the doctor, I can cure your disease…”

Mortals. Primitive, selfish beings, they take so much but give so little. They don’t know it always comes back to bite them in the end.

Jayce eyes shoot open taking in painful gasps of air, delirious he stands up on wobbly legs. Looking around he’s horrified by the carnage that surrounded him. Where the council room once stood only rubble and mangled corpses of the councilors take its place. His breathing quickened, Mel. He searched frantically finding her incoherent, he helped her to her feet before his heart stopped. Viktor.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” Jayce cursed himself before he realized he found his best friend, his partner's body; broken and bloody. Jayce ran towards the dying man. “No, no Vik come on stay with me.” The Talis boy cried, ripping Viktors dirty button, pushing up and down on his chest, hearing the crack of a rib with every compression he gave. His vision went blurry with tears. Viktor couldn’t die, Jayce wouldn’t let him. This isn’t working. I need to get to the lab. Was all Jayce could think, lifting Viktor off the floor racing to their lab.

He threw Viktor down, going through everything he possibly could to save him. There was nothing. How could this be? All those endless nights in the lab, countless nights gone with sleep, how many times they had to run over their morals for the greater good. How could this be? Jayce slammed his hands down on the stretcher Viktors body lies. He hadn’t realized he began crying again. And this time he couldn’t stop. “Please, please, anyone save him. Save my partner. Save Viktor.” He cried out into the air, it was insane, he knew nothing could hear him, help him. He was alone.

•

•

•

“Save him…. Save Viktor.”

Your ears rang over and over, the same phrase repeated over and over and over again until it was scorched into your brain. “Fine. Fine, Fine!” You grimaced walking up the invisible stairs into a room unlike any other; a room full of mirrors all differing in shapes and sizes.

You could see into any universe through these mirrors , anywhere anytime, everywhere all at once. You flowed through time and space, keeping the contingency in balance; but the punny little mortal kept disturbing you. Looking through one of the mirrors you touched the middle of the portal closing your eyes focusing all your energy to find that one little speck. Your terrestrial energy hummed around you; your plane of existence shaking all around you as if a glass ball under pressure about to shatter. Gotcha.

The fog of the portal disappeared and in it replaced a beautifully devastating scene, where one single action could create a new branch of reality. But this man doesn’t seem to be doing anything, but cry.

He was quite pitiful. The other man, the one he cried over, close to death if not already there. An essence radiated all through his dying body, you could feel the power he could hold. What a waste of potential.

You listened closely as the male pleaded and pleaded. “Save him,” he wailed. “I’ll do anything, give anything.” But it wasn’t him you wanted.

You bargained with yourself, if you saved the dying man you could have another soul, another disciple. But then your oath, if you broke then who knows what the Watchers would do.

“But, the Watchers haven’t been heard from in millenniums. I’m sure one life does not matter.” You mutter to yourself taking in a deep breath before you reach into the mirror grabbing Viktors hand and pull his soul from his body and bring him into your realm.

Viktor awoke gasping for air, he looked around panic feeling out his nerves. There was nothing, actually nothing but white, he was in a blindingly white room with no doors apparently. He looked down and saw his body, that was definitely not his. Where his metal protected body once was a white void takes his place, it didn’t feel like his body but a replica of what once was. Just as he went to find a way out a voice caught him. “Finally you’re awake I was wondering when you would—“

“Who are you?” Viktor cut you off from giving your gracious welcome speech, he studied you as you gathered yourself from his rude barbaric homosapien ways. You were indescribable, you went above all meanings of magic or logic he has ever known. Your body was like his but different. Colors of deep hue swished through your glorious temple, unlike his body yours blended with the void as if you bent it to your will. You floated around him ten times his size, terrifyingly beautiful.

“I am everything and nothing.”

“What do you mean?”

You don’t answer him, only swaying back and forth studying the statue in front of you, having truly forgotten how little human bodies can be.

“I heard your mortal man beg for your life, pleading for your soul's salvation.. I can give you salvation, Viktor.” You hummed only bringing Viktor deeper into your symphony of madness. “I can cure your disease.”

“What disease.” If all he can say through all this lunacy. “The disease of death.” You continued voiced strained almost as of this was exciting you, the longer you went on the clearer everything became, the blast killed him and this must be his hell.

“If I am to live again there will be a logical– a right way to do it.” Viktor tried to rebuttal your divine interference.

“Nothing can save you, no medicine, nor any human magic. But I can be your anecdote” You moved so fast Viktor couldn’t even catch your face as you moved back and forth.

“What.. I don’t– I don’t believe this.”

“I can make you believe.” You suddenly disappeared just for Viktor to feel a hand drag down his back.

“You are the flesh maggots adore,” you whisper into his ear, hands feeling his body up. “But I can make you so much more.” Your voice entranced him, enchanting his soul. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you’ll transcend any and everything you’ve ever done on that little speck of a planet of yours.”

“How?”

Gosh the questions have mortals always been this annoying?

“I’ll merge the smallest piece of my soul and I'll exchange and you will give me yours.” You explain an exaggerated smile stitched on your small, your face muscles strain he was concerned for you, they would surely cramp if you continued.

“My what?”

“Oh my— your soul. What else?” You look at him as if he was an insolent child and to you he was.

Viktor, well he was calculating whether or not this could be real or not. How out of 1 million probabilities this is the afterlife he was stuck with and if he was lucky this is all a dream and he’ll awake in a hospital, maybe a little sore, but definitely not survived by a forgotten god. As if hearing his thoughts the creature before him pushed him on the ground, straddling him.

“Forgotten’s a harsh word, I’d like to think of it as temporarily disposed of. And like I said before,” you spoke softly, hands caressing his shoulders and face, Viktor’s stomach clenched an unfamiliar and unwelcome warmth filling his body. “No human medicine will work for you. Only I can help you, so let me cure you.” You looked into his eyes, no deeper. It was as if you were connecting with his very being, so he definitely wasn’t thinking with the next words he uttered.

“Fine.”

He gave in way quicker than you thought, you smiled delighted. Getting off of him quickly and lead him to another place of whatever plane of existence you were on. This time there was one thing, a huge pitch black temple, the sculpture looks as if made at the depths of Tartarus. It made one quite unsettled how off it looked compared to the heavenly light that could burn one’s eyes out blazing behind it.

But one thing Viktor was thinking, was how big this place is.

When you two reached the temple and he looked back to you, you had a much more serious expression, your angelic features scrunching up to make an unnatural scowl. He could tell you were never meant to be unhappy.

“Kneel.” Your instruction cut through his ears, slicing his eardrums. Your demand was quite painful. You looked back remorse painting your eyes. But you had to remain in control.

As you knelt beside him you dipped your hand into a golden dish filled with water as pitch as the temple. He hadn’t even realized what was in front of them. An altar. Dawned with candles that never melted, flowers that never wilted, fruit that would never rot. Unfamiliar Oil aromas mixed into his nostrils. Four cups each different in size and style sit on their own corner on the altarpiece. Who knew immortal beings have their own gods?

“Please ancient gods, forgive us for our mortal sins…” you whispered an unintelligible prayer, dipping in the gold dish four separate times kissing your hands in between the dips. You poured all different elements along with the water into a different golden cup. Then you grabbed each chalice and poured blood-like tar out of each speaking what Viktor assumed were names, that even he couldn’t pronounce.

“As you have sacrificed for us we shall for you.”

That caught his attention. He couldn’t even speak when you grab his hand and without a knife cut his hand open with the tip of your fingernail. “W-wha…” He couldn’t even speak as you did the same, your blood pouring out the same as he. He held his hand hissing at the burning pain and you just groaned, snatching his hand back. “Stop being a baby.” You say healing the cut with a wave of your hand over his.

“Now drink.” She said, bringing the golden chalice to his lips deaconing him on. His lips touched the liquid gulping four times, it was bitter and tasted like death.

He watched you as you downed the rest, the red drink dripping down your chest. You look back at him, a new ferocity freed from your soul, grabbing the sides of his perfectly aligned face and smash your lips into his. Viktor was taken aback, he tried to push you away but you were too strong and suddenly he found himself falling into the kiss. Your warm muscle found his lips parting them biting his lip so hard he bleed the metallic taste feeling up your mouth and before he could try and push away it felt as if something was being shoved down his throat. It was excruciating, excessive, euphoric.

As you merged yourself using all your will to not consume his entire being, Viktor felt as if he was at the top of the world. His eyes rolled back in ecstasy, never having felt this much pleasure before it was unreal, unnatural and he needed more.

He grabbed your arms pulling your inhabited body closer, his body sparked a new energy, a powerful energy all through your body, it made you lust for more. Your soul's powerful emergence created a light, The light that was both of you, burned brighter and brighter until it combusted stabbing the white voided room into a black hole.

And then Viktor was gone.

•

•

•

“They broke the oath.” A deep, dark voice spoke.

“This cannot be.” A jittery one shuttered.

“An act of rebellion I tell you. Who knows any deity now will think they can do whatever they want no respect—“ An old shriveled on spouted on and on.

“Quiet.” Said the fourth voice, all falling silent . “They will be dealt with accordingly, but first let’s see what they are planning…..”

Mortals are not the only ones who take things and never give back, Gods are the only real selfish ones; but they never know until the very end.

[sitepathos]

so I just finished the post about ic reader was in a coma(?) kind of thing, and it got me wondering what or how he would react when he wakes up and suddenly everyone is all affectionate with him and he trys to decline the actions but he can't do much cause it's been awhile since he'd last physically moved, or something like that.

Thoughs?

Oh and I love this series, please never die, live a long healthy life😄

Had another question just like this, so hopefully this satisfies both. Note: this will allude to character feelings in future chapters. Read at your own peril.

Alfred enters your new room just like any other morning, blended breakfast in hand, when he sees you moving.

“Alfred,” you say when you notice him.

That’s enough for him to drop the trey and rush towards you, bringing you into a tight hug, afraid you’ll go back into that state if he lets go.

You’re stunned as the normally composed butler lets out soft weeping and begs for forgiveness.

He fills in the gaps in your knowledge, that the family had found you just after being shot and had you brought to the manor to receive treatment and that you’ve been in a vegetative state for over a month now, all of them taking care of you.

You’re shocked, of course. Both at surviving a gunshot to the head and the Waynes actually gave a damn about you.

When he says they felt so guilty at how they’d treated you, it made sense. They weren’t doing this out of the goodness of their hearts, but because they’d feel guilty if they didn’t.

You go to say as much when the door opens and Bruce walks in, who stops mid step upon seeing you now awake.

“Y/N,” he says in disbelief. “My baby boy.”

The sight of him pisses you off. You’ve lived in this place for years and it takes you almost dying for him to give you a second glance.

You go to stand up, eager to go back to your room and finally leave Gotham, not caring that you’d have to find a way to graduate, when Bruce and Alfred stop you.

“Where’re you going, baby? You need your rest!”

“My room,” you spit at him. “I’m getting my stuff and finally going home.”

“But this is your room,” he responds, making you now realize that all your belongings have been moved into this extra large bedroom. “And you are home.”

“No, this place isn’t home. It’s never been home and it will never be home. Goodsprings is my home and now that eighteen, I can go back to my house.”

First, Bruce is shocked to hear that you’re eighteen. For god’s sake, you’re so small! You’re even smaller than Tim!

Second, you plan to move out of the manor? He knows that they haven’t been the best family, but to move on the other side of the country?

He tries to convince you to stay, to recover from this awful ordeal, to let them make up for the years of mistreatment…

But you made it clear that you want nothing to do with them and that you believe they only did this because they feel guilty and they’ll go back to ignoring you.

It’s only then that he realizes the depths for his mistake. That you hate them so much that you’ve planned to get away from them for years.

He didn’t think he could feel lower than he has been ever since the accident, but you proved him wrong. He actually wants to curl up and die.

You make it clear that you’re leaving right now and there’s nothing they can do to stop you. You’re eighteen, after all.

That’s when something in him snaps. He wants you to stay here and he’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen.

He pulls Alfred out of the door and locks it, making you yell from the other side, saying that he can’t keep you in here.

He knows what he’s doing is wrong and that he has no right to make you stay, but he doesn’t care. You’re his firstborn and he’ll keep his family together, no matter what it takes.

He and Alfred call a family meeting in the room and fill them in on recent events.

At first, they were elated to hear that you’d finally awakened and they could talk to you. That quickly faded when they said you hated them and that you’d planned to leave them.

They agree that you can’t leave and they’ll all work together to get you to change your mind about them and want to be a part for the family.

Bruce went back up, thinking that the could appeal to you using whatever father-son relations that may be left.

That plan quickly died when you said he wasn’t your father, but a sperm donor and how your Momma made a huge mistake allowing him to sleep with her.

He stands there, taking insult after insult, watching as your face turns blood red from anger and eyes start treating tears of rage.

He wants to make it up to you, but knows that right now, he’s only going to make things worse, so he sends Dick up.

“Hey, baby bir—“ you cut off his greeting by throwing a heavy book at him that misses his head by half an inch.

“Fuck off, asshole,” you growl, practically foaming at the mouth.

He tries to calm you down, saying that he knows that he hasn’t been the best big brother, but—

Again, you cut him off, saying that he was a big brother to everyone else because he cared about them and that he made it clear you weren’t a little brother to him and that he’s not your brother. He’s nothing to you.

Ok, that stung a bit, but he’s determined to make amends!

“Everyone makes mistakes, little bird, and we’re ready to fix ours.”

You reward him with a backhand to the face and he takes that as his sign to leave.

Jason comes in, trying to think of something to say that won’t earn him a pimp slap like Dickhead.

“Look, kid, I get that you hate us. Really, I do.”

“Unless the next words out of your mouth are you saying I can go, get the fuck out.”

He knows where you’re coming from; for years, he despised Bruce and the others, but he learned to let go of his anger towards them and be a part of the family. And he wants that for you. It’s not safe out there and you could get hurt again.

But, when you say for him to go to hell, memories of the night Joker killed him resurface and his eyes flash that damn Lazarus green.

This causes you to tackle him, sending you both to the floor, and you wrap your hands around his neck in an attempt to strangle him.

He could get out this easily. The hold isn’t strong and you’re still weak from not moving for a month and even if you had recovered, you’re not trained in combat like them.

But he lies there, because he can see the rage in your eyes and as he listens to the hate in your voice as you hurl insults and threats at him, does he finally understand just how much he failed you.

He’s accused Bruce of replacing him with Tim and everyone of forgetting about him because he was too angry, too careless, and too brutal for Batman’s methods.

But because he was so pissed at them, he did the same thing to you. If he had just pulled his head out of his ass, he would’ve seen how they were treating you and taken you with him.

But he didn’t. And when you two met for the first time, he gave you a black eye because he thought you were just some brat Bruce was trying to replace him with, instead of a victim.

He’s only freed from your “hold” when Steph and Cass rush in, the two girls separating you two and pulling him out of there, closing the door when you start throwing anything you can get your hands on.

Tim’s been watching everything unfold since Bruce went up there using a camera he place in there when you were first moved in there. It was him that told the girls to go in there and rescue Jason when it looked like he had accepted to meeting his end by your hand.

He knows he has nothing say will get a better response from you and he’s never been good at emotions. That’s Dick’s specialty.

But he knows how to observe, to find ways to improve hopeless situations into his favor.

And that’s what he’ll do. You’ll eventually say something he can use to make you calm down and try to get you to give them a chance to prove themselves to you.

And if that fails? Stockholm Syndrome will eventually kick in and that’ll be the perfect chance to strike.

Finally, Damian comes in after an hour after Jason’s rescue.

“Oh what fresh hell is this,” you wonder as he closes the door behind him.

“Hello, brother. How are you today”

As he expected, you go into a rage, spitting insults and swears at him.

Only when he pulls out you Mother’s pen do you stop, completely shocked at seeing him in possession of it.

He understands why you’re acting like there’s an active bomb in the room instead of him. The last time he held this pen…

He brushes the memory of the even aside. That won’t do him any good here.

“I’ve been holding onto it for you since the accident. The others wanted it placed in the vault, but I insisted I could protect it.”

You swipe it from him and he allows you, knowing that pen means more to you than anything. After all, he remembers how you responded when he took it.

Looking back on it, he should’ve respected you for standing up to him like that, not knowing what would happen to you.

“I know my past actions are reprehensible at best, but i hope you will allow me the opportunity to make amends with you, brother.”

When you two first met, he hated you because you were a threat to what he believed to be his birthright. And when he realized you were untrained in any form of combat or self defense, he deemed you an embarrassment to the Wayne lineage.

But after living with Father and his siblings, learning what it means to be a real family, he knows he has something the others never will: a brother bound to him by blood. Someone he’s connected to at the genetic level.

“We’re not brothers,” you say. “We may share DNA, but we’re not brothers. You made that clear when you gave me this scar.”

That scar will serve as a permanent reminder of his mistake. How he hurt someone he should’ve cherished. And he’ll spend the rest of his days trying to fix that mistake and make you see him as a brother, as someone you can trust, as someone you can love and be loved by.

You may have broken free of being held captive in your mind, but now you’re in another prison and your “loving family” are the wardens. And they have no intention of letting you go. One way or another, you’ll take you rightful place in the Wayne Family.

[mkmas]

Jude Jazza - A story about a ruthless and arrogant man and an unfulfilled promise (JP ECB)

as usual I don’t own the story or characters, they belong to cybird. some things might’ve translated not as smoothly but i tried to get close to the original tone + eng isn’t my first language so forgive any mistakes ;-; also beware of some spoilers about his backstory

I wonder when it happened.

When my sister was still alive, she and I had a high fever.

(I was in so much pain l felt like I was dying.)

(I remember her asking me to distract her from the agony of the high fever.)

Jude: “What do you want to do when you’re rich?”

It was a playful way to forget, even for a moment, the pain of the day.

Jude’s younger sister: “Anything?”

Jude: “Sure.”

The pained look on my sister's face breaks into a little smile of joy.

Jude’s younger sister: “If that's the case, let's see… I want to go to the moon!”

My sister's eyes, which are the same amethyst color as mine, look towards the highest point in the sky. There, like a jewel dropped into the deep sea, there was a round moon floating in the jet black.

(...... Ha, the moon.)

Jude: "Idiot, even if I had that kind of money I can’t do that.”

(I've never heard of humans going to the moon.)

Jude’s younger sister: “But the Queen’s got the whole world on her palm, right?”

Jude’s younger sister: "If we can go around the world, can't we go to the moon?"

How much money does the Queen have? As I was thinking about whether it was really possible to go to the moon with that kind of money...

Jude’s younger sister: "Hey, brother, promise me. When you become rich, take me to the moon."

A human being going to the moon is a dream too ridiculous to be true. But my sister, who might die tomorrow, needed hope at this moment.

Jude: "I got it. I'll use money, magic, anything to get you there.”

Jude’s younger sister: “Brother, it's lame to think you can use magic.”

Jude: “Keep quiet.”

Jude’s younger sister: "I'm going to go to the moon. I have to get well soon."

Jude: “That's right. We have to get you better."

Only when I was with my sister, I felt something like the outline of happiness. Every time her small hand grasped mine, a warm feeling spread across my chest. But before the feeling of happiness could develop, I always felt sorry for her. Just when I was thinking that one day I would make my sister happy. She was bought with money, and then she died after.

And then I - I swore revenge.

By the time I started my trading company upon graduating from public school, I had the noblemen who killed my sister completely by the scruff of the neck.

Even though they were already busy dealing with taxes, it piled up even more with debt.

-- After their mansion and land were all seized, I went to meet the people who bought my sister.

Jude: “Thank you very much for your time.”

Nobleman: "W-what are you? W-Wa...!"

I grabbed the hair of the most pompous looking nobleman sitting in the chair as hard as I can.

Jude: “You guys are the ones who buy poor children and make them do bad things."

Jude: “There's no point in trying to make excuses. Everything can be backed up."

The nobleman’s eyes widen as I flung the report that contains numerous misdeeds I’ve already investigated.

I dragged him down and stamped on his head as hard as I can with my shoe.

Jude: "Confess. A few years ago, you bought a kid with asthma from a longshoreman."

Nobleman: “Well that’s… Uh.”

Jude: “Confess…!”

No matter how much I hurt them, the noblemen didn't speak.

Then I realized.

They really don’t remember.

When I threatened the servant, he trembled and spilled everything.

Servant: “I buried so many people in the garden that I can't remember who's who…”

When I headed for the garden of the beautiful mansion, I found that only one corner had been dug up in an unnatural manner.

Jude: “…….”

-- So so many. I sit in front of one of the piles and gently touched it with my fingertips.

Jude: “Brother is here... Answer me.”

I didn’t hear anything.

I didn’t even know if she was here.

All I know is that it was already too late.

So then I introduced the nobles to my father and brother, who were still working at the port, sipping muddy water.

(Isn't it great to do hard physical labor with the person you sold your daughter to?)

I had my subordinates watch over as they were weakened by the humiliation of the harsh labor.

I did nothing, I just watched.

Soon after, the nobles, my father, and my brother were all dead.

I killed them all.

-……De.

-……Jude.

Ellis: “Jude.”

(Ellis….?)

(……Ah, I fell asleep.)

It seems that because I didn't get enough sleep, I passed out while sitting.

(--- Even if it's)

Ellis: “What kind of dream was it?”

Jude: “Hah?”

Ellis: “You sounded like you had a nightmare.”**

Jude: “It was a shitty dream.”

Ellis: “I see. Jude is unhappy even in his dreams.”

Jude: “Shut up dumbass.”

Ellis smiles and looks somewhere else.

When I followed Ellis' line of sight, I saw a full moon floating there.

Ellis: "I guess Jude won't be happy until he gets to that moon."

(I know the truth. Even if I went to that moon, I wouldn't be happy.)

My sister whom I promised to is dead.

I can't take her to the moon.

The crazy dream I have is a promise that will never come true.

Ellis: "Hey, Jude. Can you breathe on the moon?"

Jude: “Ah?”

Ellis: "I'm just worried if Jude dies there before I can kill him."

Jude: “You really are fucking crazy. It can’t be helped.”

Still, I only have this promise.

That's why—.

(Someday I'll go to the moon.)

**Just in case this small detail matters (not really but) he was making sounds like people usually having nightmares do. i bet he gets these nightmares often;-;**

*If anything got deleted and i didn’t notice it’s probably tumblr being weird on my ipad bc of storage ahajaj)

TN: OK wow after reading his backstories… my crack theory about jude and the moon some time ago turned out to be at least 70% right? also jude has always been pretty snarky/sarcastic haha even to his younger sister (a little) i have a loooot of thoughts on his backstory but ill dump it after finishing his route. it really is dark and horrible how the rich people bought children and just…. did all that…. i support jude torturing crazy nobles 🙂‍↕️

[batmanschmatman]

It’s interesting to me to see how many people have been saying they feel like [character’s] death was too sudden or too early, and while I agree from a writing standpoint we didn’t exactly have a lot of time with him and they COULD have framed the show differently to give us more, I also think it’s sort of The Point that his death is sudden and kind of out of nowhere.

The air war was incredibly fucking brutal. I’m not saying it was more or less so than what the BOB or TP guys went through because they’re all awful, but it’s a well accepted part of the WWII experience that anything to do with flying planes might have seemed glamorous and cool but was actually terrifying and had a sort of uniquely horrible flavor to it when it came to facing the death of your friends.

(And this isn’t even getting into the stuff happening on the ground when cities became viable targets, but that’s for a different post.)

When Hoobler dies, the guys are there, they see it happen, they can try to help him, and then they know after a point that he’s dying. They can sit with the body afterward and take his stuff to send back to his family. Even in the more fast paced deaths like Rob Oswalt, Sledge and the others can look at his body and have a moment - however brief! - to say goodbye. There’s often no mystery of what happened, you’ve seen the wounds and know they’re dead. And you also HAVE to push it down because you’re being shot at and need to keep yourself alive. 

All of that is real important in the grief/mourning process. Guys in the 100th usually didn’t have that unless someone on your bomber died. You’d go up with your friends, you’d see their planes get hit, there’s nothing you can do besides watch for chutes and hope they survive to be taken prisoner. And then you come back, and your friends are gone, there’s no body to bury or sit with or touch. Their stuff is all still in the barracks like nothing happened. Sometimes you’re not even immediately sure if they are dead or not! You don’t know who those chutes belonged to, or if they made it safely to the ground instead of dying on impact or immediately being caught by the Germans and executed. But your friends are gone and you were powerless to do anything to help them.

And then you get to do it all over again knowing it’s going to happen to other friends or to you and there’s basically nothing you can do about it. How do you cope with that? What does it do to you to feel like your friends just literally vanished into thin air even though the last time you saw them, they were healthy and young and alive? And then new guys replace them, and you have to decide if you want to make friends with them or close yourself off, because these guys are going to die too.

(Oh, and if a member of your crew got badly wounded? You could have HOURS before you got back to base, and you have some first aid training but you’re not a surgeon, you don’t have plasma or whole blood to give a guy to help keep him alive until you make it back. So another horrible traumatic thing you get to deal with. Wounds that could’ve been treatable if you’d been at Carentan or Guadalcanal could be fatal.) 

I’m not saying this show is a masterpiece in storytelling by any means, but… You’re supposed to feel shocked and angry and robbed of the chance to get to know these guys? Because that’s literally how their friends felt. It’s a point Miller makes a lot in the book, and a really vital part to understanding why being in the AAF (or other air forces) was such a meat grinder physically and psychologically for these guys. 

[yuseirra]

I really enjoy drawing them as gods! :) I'll keep drawing this version too while I can (and even after things clear up~)

I jotted about these guys earlier AGAIN and it's so funny, I'll put it in the read more

(was written in another language, translated in bulk by chatgpt~)

I set up my tablet to draw all weekend and started listening to Fatal again.

Seriously, this song… it’s just Kamiki, saying, “I can’t live without Ai~~ I want to see Ai so badly… Without her, I’m really going to die, I feel like I’ll die—what am I supposed to do?” That’s exactly what it sounds like.

It’s like Ai is Ame-no-Uzume, and Kamiki is her husband. He’s like a god who lost his wife and went completely insane. I can’t hear it any other way, seriously. If this isn’t the case, I’d be so disappointed! There’s just no other explanation for all the bizarre situations in the story. Every time I hear this song, I feel like I’m losing my mind because of this interpretation…

This isn’t Aqua. Right now, Aqua let go of his wish for Ai and is sinking deeper as he saves Ruby. No, it’s Kamiki who’s crying about not being able to live without Ai, wanting to see her that badly. What are we supposed to do with him? Why does he love Ai this much? (To be fair, the backstory is there. Watching his character unfold, I thought, "Yeah, it makes sense he’d fall for Ai.” Even before the song and Chapter 154 came out, I was certain of it.) He’s the only character who’d have such a “lack of Ai.” He lost Ai, and now he’s like, “My destiny is to get her back!” I’m sure that’s what’s driving him. He studied science in college, built a company, and went around doing all these things while telling himself, “It’s my fault, my fault,” and witnessing people dying. Seriously… what is this?

And his eyes—I feel they were originally golden, but it feels like something mixed in because of that black star, which changed the color. His eyes look so murky. I don’t think they were meant to be purple. Every other character has clear eyes, but whenever they show his in the anime, his color is cloudy, almost like something else is mixed in.

The Hoshino family’s eye colors connect to their names, but Kamiki’s name means “light,” so why the sudden purple? It could be, but his eyes look so cloudy, and no other character’s eyes have that quality. He’s not in his right mind… he really seems possessed. And why are the lyrics like this? Why do they have this meaning? If this isn’t revealed, I’m going to seek out the author myself. It’s almost funny. This song is just so strange.

It sounds like constant crying—a song of intense longing, he’s losing his mind. Once again, this isn’t Aqua’s emotional arc. Kamiki’s emotions are ten steps deeper than Aqua’s, maybe even more unhinged. He literally seems unable to live without Ai. But this makes sense if they’re a divine couple; they literally can’t function without each other. They need to be together, which even aligns with the things Kamiki says in the story. He was hers and she was his- What is he, really? He isn’t your average person. He’s genuinely strange. What he does is something that can't just be explained with charisma or “because he’s charming.” No, Ai and Kamiki must have originally been gods.

Honestly, Kamiki must be a god who was deeply devoted to his wife, driven to madness because people killed her. That’s why Aqua was assigned to dunk him into the sea to get him… This storyline would make so much more sense if this is it.

Ai must be crying in heaven if she sees what’s become of her husband. It’s so absurdly tragic. I feel like this direction would make more sense. I mean, what kind of story would it be if Kamiki were just “the bad guy”? We already know he was fundamentally a good person. How could an ordinary person even do all these things? I know the setting is modern, with cell phones, electronics, law enforcement, etc. But honestly, people buying into this guy’s ideals to this degree is baffling. He could only pull this off if he were a god.

Fatal… I’m sure I’ve shared my thoughts on this song countless times, but every time I listen to it, I feel like I’m one step closer to understanding its meaning. This song’s emotions are just so Kamiki. If this is Kamiki, though… well, he must really have loved Ai. He’s struggling so much, and you can really feel what it means to not be able to live without someone. He simply can't bear it. That’s how strong his love is.

At this point, can’t we just let him meet Ai again already? He fell apart because he couldn’t see her, even though he wanted to so badly. Was he really at fault for all of this? Is he actually responsible for Ai’s death? I don’t think so… If Ai had been there, he probably wouldn’t have ended up like this.

We need to find out the real reason Ai died, don’t we? This song has to mean something, right? There has to be a reason this song came out. I wouldn’t have started down this path if I didn’t feel I already knew the answer. If I were the author, I’d never make a character who wants to see Ai so desperately into her killer. Maybe Kamiki has some godly power that became unstable out of his anxiety, causing the chain of events that led to her death, but...

Now that we know Ai truly loved Kamiki, I can’t believe he’d even lay a finger on her. It just doesn’t fit his character or story. His behavior shows he isn’t capable of that. This is the same person who couldn’t even retaliate against people who treated him horribly, even those he cared less about than Ai. He was a kind person.

Looking at Kamiki’s consistent behavior, there’s always this gentleness, almost peacefulness. Even if he’s lost it now, that gentleness seems closer to his true nature. I feel like something forced its way into him and twisted him.

The person Ai loved was probably this part of Kamiki, the gentle exterior. If you look at it, it makes sense why she’d fall for him. He’s fundamentally that kind of person, but something happened to him.

I’m rarely wrong about things like this… There aren’t many chapters left now, so if I’m wrong, I’ll just take it as it comes.

Was Kamiki really the kind of person Aqua could treat that way? Honestly, I wasn’t satisfied watching the interactions between Tsukuyomi and Aqua. It didn’t feel good to watch them connect and talk sympathetically. Plus, if it turns out Ai loved someone who was truly insane, that’s another problem.

If Kamiki really did do horrible things, it would make more sense if they were god-level punishments from a god who went insane. If he were just a regular boy who lost it and became a serial killer… what even is that? That would be so disrespectful to people who have similar backgrounds. For a character like this, I feel like there should be a certain amount of care in how he’s handled. Otherwise, I'd really be upset. I’m sure the author understands that.

Anyway… it feels like the answer’s already in the song. Like the answer’s already been given. There aren’t many chapters left, so I guess we’ll find out soon.

[wiyldefire]

Medeia's backstory!!

Medeia is a human* artificer for the SciFi campaign I'm playing in. Asa is my friend's character.

Warnings (please tell me if i need to put others): Hospitals, terminal illness, death, general body horror, loss of humanity (sort of), amputation (consensual, self-inflicted)

Medeia is not their original name. They don’t remember what it is, though. A lot of the early memories are fuzzy compared to the “new” ones. She thinks she deleted it on purpose, but, naturally, doesn’t remember. It doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. That was then. Now she is Medeia.

-

A long time ago her little sister was sick. She was sick and all the doctors and all the nurses and all the scientists couldn’t help. They told the person who would become Medeia and her family that her little sister was going to die. She was going to die and there was nothing that could be done. 

Medeia didn’t want that. She wanted a solution. She needed one. Her baby sister can’t just die on her like that. That isn’t fair. 

“Life isn’t fair.”

“Bullshit.”

“Medeia, there’s nothing we can do anymore.”

-

Medeia works with metal. She doesn’t know how to work with flesh. Flesh is worked in estimations, in averages, in samples and slides and with precision that is both more accurate than an obsidian blade through leather and less exact than a bomb shattering earth.

Metal is exact. Metal fits together bit by bit the same way every time. Metal can be worked to exactly what you want it to be. She knows metal.

-

She’s allowed to bring her sister any food she wants as long as the nurses are informed. She never asks for much. She doesn’t want to be a burden, with how hard the family has to work to support her already.

Medeia brings her her favourites anyway. Every day, just after dinner, a dessert. Peach tarts, pies, even just the fruit. Anything to make her feel better. She deserves it. She has been through so much. The monitors and tubes feed into and out of her body, keeping her alive, keeping her well for a little longer. She isn’t ready to go yet. 

The problem is the flesh. It doesn’t sustain itself. It can keep itself maintained for a while, but not long enough. Eventually, it will fail. It cannot be replaced like mechanical parts. It dies and that’s that.

Sometimes the nurses let Medeia bring her sister out to the field beside the hospital. They always sit on the same bench, right beside the path. It gives them a perfect view of most of the field, blanketed with dandelions and grass, dotted with poplar trees and juniper bushes. 

-

“Medeia?”

“Yeah?”

“You know everything’s going to be okay, right?”

Medeia doesn’t answer. Her sister keeps working on the flower crown in her hands.

“Medeia.”

“You’re dying.”

She sighs.

“Yeah. But it’s going to be okay. You’ll be okay.”

“But you won’t.”

“You don’t need to worry about that anymore.”

“It’s not fair.”

They pause. Her sister places the crown on her own head. It’s a golden-yellow halo that just brings dread for what is to come. 

“No. But that’s not the important thing right now.”

Medeia just looks at her sister. She is dealing with everything so much better than her.

They never do agree on what is important. 

Problems have solutions. Otherwise they aren’t problems, but flaws. Flesh is the problem. Medeia spends days on days  reading ad nauseum about the human body and how it works. Makes acquaintances with the medical students studying her sister and gets recommended books to read, as well as places to borrow them. She contacts her old professors to ask for their permission to access the library. 

-

“Medeia, please stop. There’s nothing you can do to help.”

“Not strictly true.”

“So you just plan on becoming a medical professional on your own, then?”

She finally looks up to meet her father’s eyes. The hostility is sudden but not surprising. 

“And what do you think I should do instead?” She shuts the textbook she was reading with a calmness she is surprised still exists.

“I don’t fucking know. Take apart the TV. Rewire the lights. Build a radio. I don’t care.”

“And how would any of that help?”

“It doesn’t. That’s the point. You need to stop trying to help. Do something normal for you.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

He glares at her for a moment. His anger does not last. He is not mad at her, nor she at him. They are tired and sad and they know this. They are grieving. 

“I don’t want to lose both of you.”

“...you won’t. I promise.”

He does have a point. Medeia knows metal. She has worked with it her whole life. It is familiar.

-

She changes her focus to her old notebooks. Like doesn’t cure like. A problem with the flesh cannot be fixed with a solution born of flesh. Metal is not flesh. Metal doesn’t decay. It can be replaced.

She keeps the textbooks. They can still help. It needs to be similar enough, after all. Joints moving in the same ways. Model it after where the muscles attach to bone. The circulatory system is the perfect starting point for how to get fluid to and from everywhere in the body.

How do you power something like that? It should be impossible-

-

Her parents stop focusing on Medeia. She has gone back to her normal work, with a new interest, even. Good. They would not approve. They would likely not allow the project to continue.

Looking back, Medeia is surprised they didn’t make the connection. She always pushed too far. Always took the hard way out just to prove she could. 

To be fair, she doesn’t know how she made the connection herself. How does one come up with such an idea in the first place? 

-

“Hey.”

“Hi. Just a smoothie today.”

“Awh. What, don’t even have the time to bake me a pie or something?” She takes the cup in shaky hands with a smile that feels wholly out of place amid the beeping and whirring. 

“I know, sorry.”

“I’m teasing. I’m grateful.” She pats beside her on the bed for Medeia to sit. “How was your day?”

“Good. My new project is going well.”

“You gonna tell me what that is?” The cup is placed beside the flower crown. It’s wilted. Medeia briefly considers throwing it out.

“Not yet.”

“Eventually?”

“Of course.”

-

She needs to make sure it works. Not all at once, just something small. It can’t fail. It needs to be perfect. A prototype isn’t good enough.

She takes her left pinky first. 

The preparation itself is easier than she thought. She has plenty of blades in her workshed, and she knows how to remove the safeguards. They’re sharp. They’ll do the job well. String for a tourniquet borrowed from the kitchen. The replacement sitting nearby, with all the tools necessary prepared around it. 

The pain, though, can not be adequately prepared for. Acetaminophen and ibuprofen won’t help in the moment, but she takes them for after anyway. Breathe through it. Get it over with.

She wasn’t prepared for the blood. She was prepared for blood in general, maybe, but not how much there was. In her memories it coats every surface of the shed, but logically she knows that’s unrealistic. 

The rest of that evening is a blur. The next day she wakes up early and cleans the workshed of any trace of last night’s events. The finger is buried deep in the back garden. It’s not a sustainable solution. She is far too tired to think of a better one.

She misses being tired. It was a relief at first, to never have to stop or slow down, but she has learned since that those things kept her grounded. She rarely touches the bed in her room at Asa’s house. A shame, really. It’s very comfortable.

The next day is unremarkable. She brings her sister a tart. Her hand hurts. There is no visible difference. It’s a miracle, really. She and her sister go out and her sister makes another flower crown. When they get back they throw away the old one. It’s somehow more painful than burying the old finger.

-

Months go by. Her sister’s condition worsens. Medeia loses more of herself. She’s removed a lot of the memories of doing so. The dandelions turn white, then die, then the field is blanketed with leaves, and eventually they stop leaving the building. No one notices the changes. They’re focused on her sister. Good.

-

“I’m not sure I’ll be allowed to leave the building by springtime.”

Medeia looks up from her book. “No?”

“No. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault.”

“No, but I know you liked going out with me.”

“I do, but I care about you more.” Her left arm aches with phantom pain. She stretches it out, or does as close as she can to mimic the motion.

The memory cuts off there. Medeia knows they fought, but that’s it. It sits painfully out of reach.

She doesn’t want to remember.

-

She isn’t working fast enough. She knew she was against the clock from the start but she never allowed herself to consider the possibility that she might lose. She can’t lose. There is too much on the line. 

She is off-balance. Her family notices her stumble occasionally but they don’t ask. Or at least Medeia doesn’t remember them asking. Her arm is heavy and she still needs to build dexterity in order to replace the other one.

The other arm is already built. That’s not the problem. Limbs are easy. She needs to move forward.

-

Spring finally arives. As expected, her sister isn’t allowed to leave the hospital anymore. It’s too big of a risk. Medeia is still allowed to bring in food. Some days it goes uneaten. They don’t talk about the coming future.

-

“You remember the problem of Theseus’ Ship?”

“...yes.”

“Okay.” She won’t meet Medeia’s eyes. Does she know? Is that why they fought? Or was there some other conversation she forgot?

“...you know I care about you.”

“I know. Thank you.”

-

There’s a large gap. A fissure in Medeia’s mind that separates now and before. She knows that during this time she continues her routines of daily visits and of periodical replacement. There are vague flashes of mechanical parts, glowing white crystals, power sources-

She makes progress. That’s the important part.

-

Medeia is standing in front of a coffin. Her sister’s body is laid down on soft, white fabric, dressed in her favourite skirt and a sky-blue dress shirt Medeia has never seen before. Her skin is brushed with colour it hasn’t seen in almost a year. Medeia places a flower crown on her sister’s head. It’s poorly made, hands out of practice, muscle memory stripped away in favour of a potential solution to a problem that can’t be fixed anymore.

It’s just a few seconds. Almost nothing, but it marks the start of the end of the fissure. It’s something to hold on to, painful as it is.

-

She isn’t finished with her project yet. She is close, though. So close.

-

Medeia wakes up. No. She is made aware. She is aware of every sound, every bit of light, every brush of fabric against her skin (not skin anymore, though). She tries to stand. Data pours in, telling them exactly which joints are moving, how fast, the angles of everything.

They go limp, falling back onto the table. They are aware of every bit of wood pressing into them at various points, slivers burying their way into their not-flesh, but the sensation of pain never arrives, simply the awareness of an injury. It’s nauseating.

She shuts back down for now.

-

It takes them days to work herself up to sitting on the table. Moving is overwhelming, especially if it involves turning their head. Vestibular input is a lot.

No one comes to check on them. Maybe they don’t even know they’re there. It’s a relief either way. The few times an ambulance drives by Medeia wishes desperately they could still cry it’s so much. They know exactly how loud it is, the pitch of the siren, the exact colour of the light.

-

Acclimation is slow. They don’t pay attention to those memories often. The boredom was so strong it was painful, and even if it didn’t hurt, it would still be boring.

-

They don’t return back to their normal life after that. They don’t think they can. They sell their house and most of what’s inside. Letters are spent explaining that they’re going to spend their time “Finding myself”.

They’ve already lost themself. The point of no return is far beyond the horizon line. They need to get away. The heavy footsteps, the lack of need to eat, drink, or sleep, the occasional jerky movement when a gear catches or power surges or whatever goes wrong this time can only be waved away so much.

She buys an old, second hand van from some eccentric man who claims to be a poet and a songwriter, with eight broken watches on his left wrist. When Medeia asks why, he attempts to (and succeeds at) selling them one. It is frozen at five until midnight. 

They drive off east.

-

At some point it all melds together. 

It doesn’t, really, her memories are strictly catalogued and sorted in such a way that she can only note how similar two places are in certain aspects on a cognitive level. There is no warmth of resonance when she thinks of home when walking down urban streets, no happiness to be felt in forests like the ones she played in as a child. 

But she pretends it does, because it’s funny to her. 

-

She watches humanity progress. Watches it start wars, cure diseases, invent worse ones.

One day the humans reach the stars, and are welcomed with open arms.

-

Time stops being important. She has so much of it, after all, so what does it matter?

Humans stop looking like humans. They become more other. Different. Medeia starts to get looked at weirdly.

No one fully smiles anymore. Baring one's teeth is a threat, after all.

-

She spends her time in places where humans are less common. That way her oddities can be interpreted by other species as just another way humans are weird, and the few she does encounter are grateful enough for the familiarity they’re willing to ignore the uncanniness of how she is.

It can only work for so long.

-

At some point people stop believing she’s fully human. There’s some irony in there, a joke about a relic of the past being so well preserved it’s thought to be an imitation. She doesn’t give it much thought. She has no one to tell the joke to anyway.

She’s fairly certain she’s the last person in existence to speak English.

-

Asa stares at them for several very long seconds, putting the plate down from his attempted biting. He has an almost vacant stare as he processes exactly what Medeia has asked him. 

“Well, I mean, if his ship works better, who cares if it’s the same ship?” The focus returns to his eyes. He laughs for a few moments before running a hand to fix the fur around his horns. “What do you think?”

Medeia pretends to think for a few moments. “I think that as long as it’s a ship and it belongs to Theseus, it’s the Ship of Theseus. I don’t see why the original materials matter.”

Asa looks relieved at her answer. He drums his fingers on the wooden table before picking up the dishes to clean.

Medeia smiles at him with a wide mouth. He doesn’t flinch at their teeth. He never flinches.

There is something wrong with him that is also wrong with her, and she intends on finding out what.

[tewwor]

2 things.

1. i just want shoko to truly and deeply rest. we talk about post-canon ideas ( all very good and juicy concepts ) with how one character or another survives despite how likely it was for them to pass. but instead, i want to think of how much more difficult it becomes for her to do the bare basics further into the series. when shit hits the fan and keeps hitting it.

everyone’s doing their best. they still get hurt. they still die. she’s doing her best. they’re still getting hurt. they’re still dying.

she’s running on fumes. running thin on the last dregs of hope. running out of anything that isn’t the cradle of exhaustion that slowly looks like the last nail in her own coffin. she needs to rest yet no time can be afforded to do so. even with the help of others medically aligned in ct — it’s hardly enough.

everyone’s given it their all, so how can she do any less?

when things finally settle and recovery’s more of a journey than a pitstop, i hope she rests. i hope others around help her rest. even if grief clouds most of her waking moments, maybe the toll of bodily necessities can give her an overdue break.

2. uhhhh necromancer verse for shoko. that’s it. probably brew up my own lore of sorts 👍🏻

[im-out-of-it]

“It seemed like a distant dream now, of a more innocent time (Thomas in the infirmary), when the horrors of the present would have been unimaginable, and the loss of James and Matthew were unimaginable still. They’re not dead, he reminded himself, starting to turn over, the blankets rustling around his feet.”

you know what’s a crazy idea??? this is something CC never imagined but wouldn’t it be crazy if we I don’t know, grieved Kit?

YOU KNOW WHO ACTUALLY IS DEAD? YOUR COUSIN BROTHER BFF THOMAS. it’s not Thomas’s fault that the writing goes against him. seriously why can’t Kit be grieved??????? why is the whole focus on Matthew and James? okay I get if they’re missed (I only miss Mathew) and you want to move forward in this war but someone very close died and everyone acts like he never fucking existed.

this is an inappropriate pov because all she has Thomas focus on now is Matthew and James. he gets heartbroken and maybe it hurts him to think of Kit. but Thomas doesn’t actually have to go on and on about. HE HAS A BRAIN SO LET HIM USE IT CC. I’m sorry but I don’t believe someone Thomas spent with every second (basically) of the day with is just going to ignore their death?

NO I DONT BELIEVE IT. I get they’re all worried and everything but belial needs James and for James to cooperate, that means keeping Matthew alive. so why would you think that they would die? they need to be alive for giving belial what he wants. and we already knew that Cordelia would use Cortana to kill belial and then save james. it was obvious from the moment it was mentioned.

the only unfinished business kit has is being properly mourned lmao like imagine dying and everyone’s not even grieving????? fuck I’d be hurt and ghost the fuck out of them 💀 it makes it look as though Christopher never mattered. they don’t have to be all in hysterics but LET THEM GRIEVE ALREADY

Barbara was a very minor character and she got to be grieved more than Christopher did who was there for most of it. I love Barbara and honestly girl could’ve been grieved more (or add other pov) but she was in the series for 1% of the time.

I seriously do not understand the hold and obsession CC has with the herondales. why do their presence matter more? I swear if she had any balls and killed off James, she would make everyone fucking grieve James and act like they couldn’t live without him. but it’s a Lightwood and it’s forgotten. who cares because the lightwoods don’t matter to cc!!!!

it’s just frustrating because Kit deserved to be grieved. he deserved better writing. his defending Grace could have been handled better. like the fact that CC makes the focus for Thomas about Matthew and James is insane. I’m sorry but she shouldn’t be in charge of her own pov and majority of what she writes lmao

side note: eldest curses isn’t too bad but at least it had other writers so the main focus wasn’t the herondales because devil forbid, you have more than two characters in the story and how terrible is it to include others. sorry not sorry but I can’t think of anyone who just wants to read about the same two toxic bland uninteresting characters for 700+ pages

I also want to add I love adore admire Thomas and I’m happy he at least got some pov but I feel that the way CC went about it wasn’t fair to Thomas. yes she created these characters but I feel we as readers know them more. we know how much Thomas cares for Kit. we know he starts to have feelings for Alastair and tries to hide it as best as he can. we know he’s kind and sometimes wishes he weren’t. it’s handled (thomastair by the way) a lot better than Malec but I think it still needed a bunch of tuning. CC is focusing on all of the wrong things in my opinion

CHRISTOPHER DESERVED BETTER

[mielwriting]

Natlan Archon Quest Act 1, 2 Reaction

Had to split it into multiple parts cause it's so long...

That empty expanse between Sumeru and Natlan that doesn’t have any people or wildlife is jarring. I only realized AFTER I got there that there was a teleport waypoint past all that that had automatically unlocked, but I couldn’t see it cause it was hidden by the archon quest symbol. 

Can’t believe the Traveler and Paimon didn’t wanna ask how the Echoes’ Chief suddenly recognized us. 

Love the cutscene of the Traveler switching between elements. 

Kachina reminds me of Bennett. I expect us to learn about his origins in 5.X

There are fantasy giraffes?!

Nice to see them calling him Dvalin, not Stormterror

*running away from the researcher guy cause I don’t want to be forced into a conversation and he literally starts chasing when you get too close*

Oooooooh so when Neuvi said “Natlan is plagued by wars” waaay too many of us assumed wars between the humans, not wars vs the abyss. 

So if someone who isn’t an Ancient Name Bearer makes it to the Night Warden Wars, does their name become an Ancient Name for future generations to potentially receive?

“Danger is the nature of war” Mualani says. But Kachina told us all ancient name bearers are required to compete - even kids like her. I can see how this mentality might have been manipulated by others to force Vennessa’s tribe into oppression. 

Also what the fuck? Not sure I’m buying the whole “not a single Natlan person wants to leave” after hearing they force people to fight like this. Mondstadt (& Liyue to a lesser extent) continues to be the only nation I’d feel safe in. What the hell. 

And yeah sure the archon can resurrect them. But like. That doesn’t fix the trauma. It’s still fucked up. 

THERE ARE EXCEPTIONS TO THE REVIVING

Citlali was introduced in the trailer by her strong insistence on not participating in the Pilgrimage. I can see why. I already like her. 

This whole situation sounds like the recipe for burn out (literally too. Death). 

Kinich cannot be older than 25. And he’s just casually stating he’s died before… 

You people need therapy

Also what’s up with Ajaw? He’s such a bully. What the hell man. 

I say that now but I assume his situation of “I am mighty and I will conquer the world!” (and everyone treating them like a kid) is like King from Owl House. 

Though of course, I only started sympathizing with King from Owl House because of character development. Something that Genshin Impact rarely gives its playable characters. 

Anyway, this whole “ancient names are forgotten if the bearers fail”. Is that a conscious effort to erase these people from records, or is it more like an Irminsul erasure?

“Feast until the bill gives the Archon a heart attack” finally, an archon with mora!

Kachina “I can’t keep using my age as an excuse”. If only Lisa or Alhaitham or Venti were here to teach her the importance of giving yourself grace and letting yourself rest. 

“I have to prove I’m not trying to avoid the wars” babygirl you are 9 years old

Kachina you have a 7 or 8 Pilgrimage losing streak?! Do these things happen once a year? How young were you when you first participated…

Kachina always prepared with her backpack… she’s like Dora but with gifted kid issues…

All these other playable characters with their “trauma” from “near-death” experiences”. Try actually dying a few times; then you can cry PTSD!

But of course, being raised in the US, I recognize this is partly the influence of a very individualistic culture. 

And about the whole revival thing. That’s Chekov’s Consequence-Free Traumatic Death Scene! Place your bets now; who’s gonna die in the archon quest, and then be revived?

So, what if someone with a (not pyro) vision wins the competition? Do they become pyro archon, overriding their previous elemental vision? 

Does this mean Mavuika has 3 names: her regular name, her Goetic name, and her Ancient Name? 

Is it possible for people without a vision to be gifted an Ancient Name? 

Oh my god you send a team of FIVE to fight the entire abyss?!

So you CAN have a vision that doesn’t match your tribe’s element. Atea, of the Peoples of the Springs, has a pyro vision.

[alevolpe]

Please tell us about Luna (and Artemis)!

Alright!

Luna as I mentioned here was a part of the rebellion group that included Beryl and the 4 kings back in the silver millennium, she was a crucial part of the operation as she was the only one with direct access to the Moon Kingdom and the Queen.

Though let me take it back a second and explain who Luna is. The name Luna isn’t her name per se, but more of a title/position in the royal court that is passed down. The role of a Luna is given to a human woman whose job is to be a caretaker, specifically she’s the caretaker for any reborn senshi.

Say the current Mercury does anything that gets her executed, the new Mercury will be reborn on Earth and it’s Luna’s job to take her from her human parents and raise her til the age where she’s mature enough to be independent.

Additionally, since it happens that a whole life of a Luna can pass by without her even needing to take care of any senshi ( read more on how old the senshis are here, in the comments) she also is entasked with small roles as advisor for the queen and mediator during Earth expeditions, both of these jobs are her responsibility ONLY if it has to do with the senshi.

Our Luna didn’t raise any of the senshi, they are all adults when she is given the title of Luna, despite that Luna still tries to be there for (most of) them like a mother would. She feels for them and understands the terrible situations they’re in. That said she’s not treated well by all of them, really the only ones that treat her nicely and with respect are Mars and Neptune, and in her own way Mercury.

Luna is very passionate, even in her current life, she’s very driven by a sense of justice, while also having a very compassionate heart toward the people she’s supposedly betraying. Though she’s never swayed to think that what she’s doing isn’t right, the people of Earth deserve better and for that, the Moon Kingdom has to fall, even if she knows it means most likely means the death of the senshi and the princess.

She’s eventually discovered and executed, Mars tipping off the Queen to her doings. Mars is a very interesting character in silmil and she’s def the most “lawful good” out them all, but with her future vision, she does what she has to make sure the pieces fall into place for a better future. She knew Luna’s execution was the only opening for such future, so she regrettably did what she had to do. There’s 0 animosity between them, more like a mutual respect and liability. They never talked about such issues openly between each other, but there was always a silent mutual understanding. Mars understood Luna’s actions and Luna’s understood Mars’.

Skipping to the current time, the same Luna that was executed was reincarnated into the body of a cat, my theory is that cats are nimble, low key creatures who are able to fairly easily integrate into society while still not being human and so that’s why the Queen chose such form. She didn’t want Luna to be a human cause she doesn’t need Luna to stick around long, cats live much shorter lives and she only needs Luna to care of the senshi during their ‘transitioning training’ period and then die, having fulfilled her purpose.

All Luna’s memories were erased, only keeping very foggy, but clear goals in her mind. Awaken the senshi, find the princess and stop the evil Dark Kingdom. I like to think Queen Serenity chose this past Luna to reincarnate instead of just getting a fresh new soul because Luna already carried that sort of experienced motherly vibe with her, making it easier the ease the senshi into accepting their new destiny, but also maybe as a sort of taunting punishment. This is your punishment for your betrayal, you’ll unknowingly help defeat the same group you were a part of all those years ago and that empire you tried to destroy, will rise once again, with you knowing no better and dying before even getting to witness it.

As for Artemis, my ideas with him are definitely not as fleshed out. I most often tend to see him as the royal advisor of the Queen, his name also being a title. He really believes the Queen to be a sort of superior being, but he does also have a deeper attachment to her, seeing the more human side to her, which no1 else really gets to see.

He’s a bit more on the cynical side when it comes to the Earth people. Not that he sees them as completely inferior, but he believes people like them need beings like Serenity to mantain peace and order, even if they don’t know better. Humans are inherently selfish and self-destructive, he witnessed it, being a human who grew up on Earth.

He regularly interacted with Venus, being another victim of her manipulations, even if not to the level of Serenity, and holds her to a standard higher than the other senshi, seeing the rest of them as unmotivated and ungrateful of being a part of the court.

Unlike Luna, he retained his memories when he got reincarnated. Lying and withholding information to the true extent of what the senshi, the princess and the kingdom truly entail to the future of the girls and Earth itself, even from Luna.

He believes he’s doing the right thing, that Queen Serenity knew better and that this is how things should be. Though in the back of his mind something doesn’t feel right, he feels hurt and betrayed. Why was he reborn as a cat? He understands why Luna was, but why him, he showed nothing but devotion and loyalty to the Queen. Did he really not mean anything to her or does she really know best and knows that Artemis’ fate is ultimately inconsequential to the rise of the new kingdom?

This conflict within him is a major part of his growth as a character, learning to unwind and truly rethink what being human means through the girls and especially through Mina.

Regarding their relationship, I really do not ship Luna and Artemis. Through the majority of the first arc Luna is left in the dark by him and lead to make decisions that ultimately will cause the girls more harm than good. They are coworkers at best and even after stuff get a lil cleared out, Luna still holds a huge resentment toward him never really gets resolved (in my hc, Luna doesn’t live past the 2nd season, sorry, ik, I love her too).

This is long I know , sorry. LOL, but hopefully it clears some things up and of course all I write int his asks is still a draft, so stuff might change.

[g0nta-g0kuhara]

I saw your post about your opinion on characters dying earlier then alot of the community thinks so I was curious about what you think about Hiyoko and Ryoma's deaths! To me, they both have the most wasted potential to me. Hiyoko was just becoming likeable before dying and I would've adored seeing Ryoma actually learn to be close to people again...I know it's for the drama and it makes their deaths more tragic but I feel like they could've survived longer and some characters with less story or relevance could've taken their places ;-;

I mentioned it in the replies of that post, but I do feel like Hiyoko should’ve survived longer. She was just barely staring to open up to everyone else and her death had nothing to do with her character arc. I was genuinely convinced that she wasn’t originally supposed to die as early as she did, although I can’t find any info on it now, so I think my disappointment in how her character ended manifested like that in my brain haha. Easily she could’ve replaced a character who lived longer and dr2 wouldn’t have been much different aside from her continuing character arc.

As for Ryoma, that post was kinda inspired by a post I saw about him specifically, haha. There definitely is potential in his character to have survived longer and learned to face his problems and continue living, but I honestly feel pretty satisfied with how his story ended up. They establish his main character conflict really early on, well, as early as you can for a ch2 death. And I think its tragedy is pretty worthwhile in how it’s executed in his case. Ryoma to me doesn’t feel like a character that NEEDED to stay in the story, but could’ve. It’s just not the direction the game went, and I’m okay with that. Although, do keep in mind that while I love it still, ch2 is probably my least favourite v3 chapter, so I might be a bit biased in this take.

I also feel like the problem with Ryoma surviving longer is that unlike in sdr2, there isn’t an easy replacement for a character with less relevance to die in his place in v3. Almost every single v3 character has a significant role in the plot in one way or another. The only ones I can think of that you could kill without significantly changing the overall plot much would be Kirumi (which… well she also dies in ch2) or Korekiyo. The rest have key roles in how the plot moves (Miu, Angie, yes even Tsumugi) or have character arcs that are really wonderful already (Himiko) and I wouldn’t want to lose them this early on either. It’s v3’s strength that so many of the characters play a strong role in the story, but unfortunately that still means some characters have to die early and get less development as a result.

[gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun]

In defense of trashy ya dystopias

Okay, I’ll admit it: Hunger Games is an excellent book. It is powerful and well crafted, and deserves to be an eternal classic. I’m not sure any of the ya dystopias that followed it were quite so good, and I understand why they get mocked so often. Still, I think they deserve a better rep than they get.

Now, I understand that some ya dystopias are really, really bad. The only literary criticism that would call them good art would be a reader response based method that just says “well, some people like them so they must be good!” I don’t think that’s exactly how art works, but to an extent, that’s true. If a book inspired someone, encouraged them to read, and broadened their view of the world, who are we to say that it’s not worth reading? No matter how terrible a book is, it can at least make someone a bit more passionate about reading, and that’s value enough.*

First, I have to talk about Divergent. It makes me sad how many people hate that series. There are some valid criticisms, but most of it doesn’t make sense to me. People accuse Tris of being flat and basic, saying she’s an overpowered Mary Sue of a blank slate. That in particular confuses me. Tris isn’t dull and underdeveloped, she’s depressed. She’s reactive because she doesn’t care enough to be proactive. She’s numb, which comes across as her being unemotional. Now, we can debate whether that makes her a bad choice as a main character, but I won’t stand for her being painted as a bad character.

I was horribly depressed when I read Divergent. Watching Tris made all the difference in my life. I related to her when she threw a chair from the roof and watched it shatter on the concrete below, wishing she could follow it. I would have followed her to her death when she convinced herself that dying for her friends was noble sacrifice, not suicide, not the easy way out. I nearly cried when she realized at the last moment that she didn’t want to die, that she had to choose to keep going. I watched her build her life back up, even through the misery, pain and loss. I watched her find happiness, and I broke down when she gave it all up to protect someone else, someone who was trying to throw away his life out of guilt and grief. She sacrificed everything she had to give him a chance to fight through it and become someone better. She would have done the same for me. I needed to keep going, to honor that sacrifice and follow in her lead. Tris taught me to fight, and I am so grateful.

The Maze Runner was one of my favorite series. My longest completed story I’ve written was a trilogy of (unfortunately very straight) TMR fanfiction. I know it’s pretty garden variety dystopia, but it was very meaningful to me.

I think part of what made it special was having a male protagonist. Most ya dystopias are centered on teen girls, the intended audience, and while TMR could have used more diversity of gender in the cast, it was nice to see myself in the main character (although I like to believe I’m not that stupid). Thomas is also a very competent MC, which is always appreciated, and it feels earned more than Gary Stu-ed.

TMR has, despite not having any canonical evidence, a lot of gay ships in the fandom, probably because the boys all have a ton of chemistry and there are no girls (pretty much). I was deep in denial (see my straight fanfic), but TMR still gave my budding queerness a place to grow. While insisting that being gay was wrong and my homosexual crushes were Not Gay, I still managed to have very strong feelings on which Maze Runner ships are correct (Newt X Alby and Thomas X Minho, Newtmas shippers fight me). Being represented, even if I didn’t know it at the time, was so important to me.

Lastly, TMR taught me bravery. It taught me that even if things are just going to get worse, you have to try and make it out. I look at the world around me, and it’s not hard to imagine the Flare, or WICKED gaining power. Us kids have been handed the burden of fixing the world, and I need all the courage I can get. Like I say in my fanfic (the AWWWB series on Wattpad, first book called Good Grief), “Maybe the universe is just cruel. But… if we don’t know what’s outside of the Maze, then we’d better hold on to the fact that it’s just as likely to be a good place as a bad one.” We have to keep hoping that something better is coming eventually, even if it never does. We have to keep fighting.

I don’t have any others in mind right now, but I want to hear about other books (dystopian or not) that made more of a difference than they’re given credit for. Seriously, I want y’all to defend Twilight, to champion the Matched series. Tell me how they changed your life.

*note: books that spread harmful messages are different than poorly written books, but that’s a whole conversation by itself, so we’re going to be idealists in this post and pretend that’s not an element while acknowledging that in the real world it’s a true and harmful thing

[seraphimsora]

Chapter 1 The Queen of mages

A work made by a fan for a fan. I do not own the rights to Fate or any characters from the game, visual novel, manga or light novel.

Thick smoke filled the air, tightening around my throat until an unbearable burning sensation reached my nose. The heat of the fire, voracious and destructive, seemed to creep closer with each passing second. My senses were dull, my eyes capturing only indistinct shadows moving hastily around me. A muffled yet energetic voice resonated above the chaos, accompanied by scattered murmurs. But the sound wasn’t enough to keep me conscious for much longer.

I wondered if this was hell.

Was this my eternal punishment? To be trapped in an endless sleep, unable to react? My body wavered between a cold numbness and constant pain, but I couldn’t complain—my lips felt as exhausted as the rest of me, sealed in involuntary silence.

Time became irrelevant, an abstraction. I had no idea how long I remained like that, but eventually, I felt my body rest upon something soft. A bed? A timid, yet real relief.

“Trice? If you can hear me, please wake up... We don’t know what to do...” Mash’s voice, heavy with worry and sadness, reached my ears. There was a hint of desperation in it, enough to make me want to react, but my body still felt as heavy as my consciousness. “It’s been two weeks since we arrived in this singularity. The doctor is on the verge of collapse with you in this state, and the others... they’re lost without a Master to lead them...”

Singularity? How is that possible? I tried to organize my thoughts, but confusion overpowered any logical reasoning. Maybe a failure in Chaldea’s systems? It made sense, considering the chaos that had nearly brought our world to ruin. Still, something about that word—“others”—caught my attention. Ah, so the summoning worked? That would explain the excruciating pain coursing through my body.

“I told him not to worry...” Mash continued, her voice now a whisper. “The Saber... he’s been incredible at keeping things under control and asked me to focus only on taking care of you. He and the others are trying to figure out what’s happening...”

Mash, always carrying more than she should. My heart clenched. I needed to help her. I couldn’t let her bear that burden alone. Gathering every ounce of strength left in me, I forced my eyes open, battling the weight that kept them shut. The soft glow of a candle beside the bed was too bright, burning my already sensitive vision.

“Hmmm...” I groaned, trying to speak, but my voice came out hoarse, almost unrecognizable. “Mashu... talking to someone in a coma... isn’t... healthy. Sabiá?” The attempt at humor was weaker than I wanted, but it was enough to break the silence.

Mash froze. I didn’t need to see her to know her eyes were wide, disbelief written all over her face. She was probably wondering if she was hallucinating. The urge to laugh almost escaped me, but breathing was already painful enough. So, I stayed quiet, waiting patiently for her reaction. It was good to be back, even if only little by little.

Mash leaned in closer, gently touching my arm. “You’re finally awake. Thank the stars... How are you feeling?”

With her help, I sat up in bed, though I still couldn’t fully open my eyes. “Like I got run over by a truck... or maybe five trucks. Summoning five Servants at once is... a new experience. I can cross that off my list now.”

Mash gave a small, relieved smile at hearing my usual sarcasm. “You gave us quite a scare. Two days unconscious isn’t exactly normal, even for you.”

“Hah, I refuse to die from something as stupid as an overly successful summoning... It’d be like Da Vinci dying of a heart attack right after creating her greatest invention.” I sighed, leaning against the wall behind me. Again, I tried to open my eyes, but this time the discomfort wasn’t as intense as before.

Mash was still blurry before me, but her outfit looked different from before—I could even see more exposed skin than usual. “Please don’t tell me Da Vinci made you wear something weird again.”

She quickly waved her hands in front of her, her face turning slightly red. “N-no, this is... armor, and Da Vinci didn’t make it.”

I scoffed, crossing my arms with some difficulty. “For armor, it sure doesn’t cover much. Go grab a blanket, young lady. I’m not letting you walk around like that.”

“B-but—”

“I’m serious, Mash. The less they know about where to strike you, the better.”

“I have a shield big enough to cover where the armor doesn’t, you don’t have to worry about that.” She tried to reassure me with that gentle, sweet expression—the same one people could easily take advantage of.

“Hm. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt for now.”

The creaking of wood caught my attention, and once again, the mention of “others” resurfaced in my mind. The Heroic Spirits I summoned. I couldn’t lie to myself—I was excited. I’d always been a bookworm, burying myself in tales and histories of the past... Characters like Cleopatra, Joan of Arc, Alexander the Great, Nero Claudius, Arthur Pendragon... Just imagining meeting them in person sent shivers down my spine. But I wouldn’t be foolish enough to make that obvious, so I masked my enthusiasm with a disinterested expression.

“So, where’s our team of misfits?” I tried—and failed—to swing my legs over the side of the bed, barely managing to get one foot out before the pain reminded me of my limits. “Tsk... damn it.”

Mash stepped closer to support me. “Well... they’re... quite something, to say the least. Three Sabers, an Archer, and a Lancer.”

“A balanced team...” I mused. “Of course... I didn’t expect them to actually be a ‘team’...”

Five Servants at once...

That really explained a lot. I must have exhausted myself during the summoning. Maybe it was pure luck that I hadn’t died, or perhaps the results of my training with my mentor. He once warned me this could happen if I overused my mana. It wasn’t that I lacked energy, but my body wasn’t accustomed to such an intense magical circuit flow, making me a ticking time bomb...

“I need to be more careful moving forward.” I muttered aloud, which immediately made Mash guess what I was thinking.

“Trice, I’m sorry for what I’m about to do.” Her calm tone didn’t prepare me for the hard slap to the back of my head, making me jolt into her free arm.

“Mashu!” I protested, my whole body tingling from the sudden movement.

“You may be older than me, but I can’t just let you be so reckless with your body! If you had died, we would’ve had even bigger problems!” Seeing my little sister angry was almost cute enough to distract me from the discomfort.

“It’s not like I had much choice in what happened!” I grumbled, leaning against her shoulder again. “Geez, Mash, you have quite the heavy hand for a lady. What did my father feed you all these years? Steroids?”

The second slap was stronger, enough for me to feel it. “Ow!” This time, I couldn’t hold back my irritation, though her face clearly showed regret. “Mashu!”

“D-don’t blame me! That joke was in bad taste, it was just a reflex!”

“What kind of reflex is that?!” I rubbed my head a few more times before something struck me. “Mash, the Crypters... shouldn’t they be here?”

Mash’s expression darkened...

Ah... the accident. Now I remember clearly. Everyone was... No, now’s not the time to think about that.

“Hey, it wasn’t your fault.” I smiled as best as I could, brushing her bangs aside. “There’s no way you could’ve predicted that would happen.”

—I know, it's just that... because of me, you got really weak. It wasn't just the fatigue, Trice, you really were between life and death, the doctor said that if any of us used too much mana we could- — I didn't let her finish, gently squeezing her shoulder.

—Nothing happened, Mash, you held back and I'm very much alive in front of you now. Come on, you'd need more than just releasing a few powers to kill me, I'm too amazing to die in a bed. — I joked, rolling my eyes, finally managing to get a sincere laugh from my sister.

I smiled in relief.

Our healthy moment of reunion was interrupted by the crack of boards coming from the hallway right behind the door, I blinked to see a figure covered in metal approaching, or was it a robot? Either way, his steps had the characteristic clang of heavy armor.

—Hey Shildy. — His voice was muffled by the strange helmet on his head.

Slowly the knight turned the corner and finally became fully visible to my eyes. I couldn't see much, I just thought it was funny that he was short but dressed like a mecha, to tell the truth, I had to hold back my laughter.

He stared at me. It was a strange few seconds, it seemed like I saw the glow of green eyes beneath that piece of metal on his face. However, nothing surpassed the silence that followed us. Mash seemed confused by the sudden reaction of knowledge, later I would find out that it was by her chaotic behavior.

—Ah, sleeping beauty, have you finally decided to get out of bed and be a real master? Or should we continue without you? —- His words were rude, he seemed irritated by something, but he had an instinct that was beyond me.

—It's a pleasure to meet you, too. — I forced a smile on my face. — I apologize for the delay.

He looked at me again only to cross his arms and sigh. —Whatever. Mordred, saber class… Hey Shild, meeting now, bring the dead weight too.

“Dead weight?” “I’ll show you the dead weight in a bit, fake mecha.”

Mash seemed to hesitate, her gaze flickering between Mordred and me. The atmosphere became strangely dense. In the tales of the knight of treachery, I remember reading about his arrogance and lack of respect for common sense in the battle of Camalan, but there was something in her posture that seemed beyond typical irritation. Even without being able to see her face completely, it was easy to see that she was assessing me, like a predator studying its prey.

“Are you going to be able to walk, Trice?” Mash asked, gently adjusting my support on her shoulder.

“I’ve been through worse.” I tried to joke, but the heaviness in my voice didn’t escape her. Even so, I moved, slowly and carefully, until I was able to stand.

Mordred watched us without moving, but her gaze seemed to pierce my skin. When I finally stood up straight, I felt a twinge in my head, but I kept my posture firm.

-You don't look like much for someone who summoned five of us at once.- Mordred muttered, still crossing his arms.

-I am a big deal, the fact that I miraculously passed out for days and you guys can still walk around without limitations speaks for itself.- I replied, trying to keep my tone calm.

Mordred didn't answer directly. Instead, he turned sharply, walking in the opposite direction.

- I hope you don't pass out again on the way. Shildy, hurry up.

Mash sighed and looked at me, clearly embarrassed.

- He's... just like that.

- I noticed.- I replied, letting out a weak laugh as we started walking. -But don't worry. I've dealt with difficult personalities before, the clock tower wizards are sometimes as arrogant as a spoiled knight.

I noticed his green eyes again, behind the armor, threateningly staring at me over his shoulder. I wondered if that burning sensation in the pit of my stomach was genuine hatred or simply momentary satisfaction at having angered him. Maybe I'll never find out...

The corridor seemed longer than I remembered, the sound of our footsteps echoing lightly on the boards beneath our feet. Everything around us still had that air of destruction and chaos, as if the singularity was a reflection of what had happened in Chaldea. The flashes of the explosion still filled my mind, even after so long.

The cabin we were in was simple and even a little destroyed. Its structures protected us from rain and light storms, but it clearly wouldn't withstand anything more serious. I could tell from the windows that we were in a small village. It was dark outside, so I couldn't tell if it was a pasture, mountains, or anything else.

"Mashu, I need a summary of what happened in the days I was away." Who are the other heroic spirits I summoned, their classes…and what do we need to do here? We may need to contact the director. I knew about the existence of singularities, about howpositions that could alter space and time, but until then they were such disposable hypotheses that one could not even identify them as real threats.

“I will take the lead in updating you, master.” The voice, serious and amicable, came from the new environment we entered. “There is no need to contact Chaldea again today.”

A small kitchen that comfortably accommodated the five or seven people. I hadn’t realized we had already arrived since the brute was standing with his horns in front of me. And now I could finally see what I could deduce from the other heroes I had summoned.

The owner of the voice from before was the first to stand out. Sitting at the table, her posture was impeccable, like that of someone accustomed to the throne and leadership. Her golden hair was tied in a low bun, and her shining armor seemed practically intact, as if no combat could mark her. Her green eyes shone with determination and an almost imperceptible tiredness.

—But first, it's only fair that we introduce ourselves. I'm Arthur Pendragon, King of Knights, Saber Class... This one on my right is Sir Bediviere. — He pointed to the man with a bronze arm who was standing next to the stove, his hands holding a kettle as if he was preparing something hot. His face, even though it was the calmest in that room, still seemed slightly nervous about something. The silver of his hair further highlighted his mature composure and the gentle look he gave me.

—It's very good to see that you're recovered, Master, Mash told us a lot about you. — He left the kettle on the table, bowing subtly to me. I found him adorable and full of charisma, certainly the aura of a gentle knight. However, what caught my attention was the delicate sound of a lyre's strings being played.

Following my gaze, the king now pointed to the man with long, red hair, who kept his eyes closed as he played the strings of his bow and arrows. — This is Sir Tristan and next to him is Sir Gareth. — He directed my gaze to the small girl with equally blond hair with two black streaks next to the man, she had an excited smile to see me, perhaps Mash had exaggerated about something in the stories she told, because I honestly didn't think I deserved all that sympathy right from the start.

— And of course, you must have already met Sir Mordred. — Clearly the name of the knight of treason would come out with a certain acid, not for nothing, Mordred betrayed the king's trust, took his castle, raised an army against him, and even killed his own father... everything he did was against the code of chivalry.

— Yes, I met him, a well of sympathy, I must admit. — I whispered the last part sarcastically, earning a slight smile from Sir Tristan and a dissatisfied grunt from Mordred. I cleared my throat, slowly letting go of Mash to walk to the table. In an attempt to consolidate my resilience, I stood up. “You don’t need to call me master, just Biatrice is enough.” I pulled out a chair, but hesitated before sitting down. I wanted to convey that, despite my condition, I was ready to take on my role.

Observing each of them, I felt the weight of responsibility that came with commanding these legendary heroes.

“Before we start talking about strategies, I want to thank all of you.” My voice was still hoarse, but it carried firmness. “Summoning five Servants at once was a risk, but it seems I achieved the best possible result. I am honored to have each of you by my side, as companions. But I would like to skip the formalities, please, Your Majesty, update me.”

“We are two weeks into a fierce war between Athens and Sparta. — His words made me have to fight the urge to smile, my childish heart, a fan of stories, could barely stand the fact that I was facing part of the round table and the king of knights himself. Now the Peloponnesian War seemed too much for me, Arthur continued. — We were focused and remained unseen, but seeking as much information as we could. We don't know exactly how, but apparently the ruler Pericles is in possession of a divine relic, which we think is the grail. The problem is that this gave him the ability to summon servants. Sir Bediviere had the misfortune of encountering one of them yesterday, but he managed to throw him off. As much as I prefer a direct confrontation, we didn't want to jeopardize your health.

— I ended up delaying them all these days. — I sighed thoughtfully, looking at Bediviere. — Can you tell me what class the servant was, Bedivere?

— Archer, I don't know how far away he was, but it was far enough that he could barely detect the attack in time. — He said in a calm and melodious voice. — I found him on the southern coast, I had heard about some prisoners being taken to Athens to be judged, I tried to get closer in the hope of finding something.

— Okay, I conclude that you do not have much more information. — When the king of knights denied it, I sighed. The possibilities were wide, clearly what was affecting that singularity was the existence of the Grail. — We are in unknown territory, fighting against servants whose identities or abilities we have no idea, I believe the most direct route is to ally ourselves with Sparta, but a trip may be too exhausting for my current state, I fear I will have to delay you a little longer.

— It is already a big step, you having woken up, Mas-Lady Biatrice. — Artoria rested her elbows on the table, interlacing her fingers in front of her chin. — We have an established base here in this village, because from what Sir Tristan and Gareth were able to discover, this is a zone far from conflict.

“And yet a servant was able to cross paths with Sir Bediviere,” I mused. “Are you sure we’re not near a danger zone?”

 A servant must have his master…

“I can’t say for sure.” — This time it was my sister who answered in an equally reflective tone. — At least I didn’t feel anything like that.

“Hm…so these are just hypotheses…right…” I closed my eyes for a few moments, we were in a war, even though from a distance I could feel the metallic smell of blood and the aroma of destined death. Reality hit me suddenly, I had never been in a war, but I still couldn’t be afraid.

Looking at my hands, I saw that they were slightly pale and thin, but they weren’t shaking.

In reality, I felt anxious.

My throat was suddenly dry.

What the hell is happening to my body?

“Master?” — Mordred placed a finger in front of me, bringing me back to the reality we were in, this time his voice didn’t sound so arrogant, on the contrary, there was hidden concern.

“Sorry, I was absorbed in my thoughts…I think I’m still a little slow. — I'm trying to shake off the shame of having been left out in front of them.

—My king, perhaps it would be best to let the mistress rest for a few more days before we do anything. — Sir Gareth suggested timidly but firmly at the same time.

—Yes. — The king stood up, looking at me. — I would like Mash to stay so I can have a word with her. Do you mind if Gareth escorts you back to your room, Biatrice?

I smiled gently, watching the young squire jump to my side, already extending an arm to support me. Perhaps they had noticed how weak I was. Leaning on her shoulder, I looked at Mash, who didn't seem to be very sure about that decision. However, to encourage her, as we passed by her, I made a point of reaching out my hand to her head and ruffling her hair before continuing to walk.

Gareth and I chuckled lightly at the murmur of complaint Mash gave us.

—So, Sir Gareth, isn't it? — I wanted to start a conversation, and apparently that young woman seemed as interested as I was.

— Only Gareth is fine, Lady Biatrice. — She replied, helping me lift my foot to climb the small step in the hallway.

— Well, if I don't need to call you “Sir” you don't need to call me “Lady” just Biatrice is fine. — I held her hand a little tighter as I felt a slight tug of pain in my chest. — Ah... it seems... it seems like I'm talking too much...

— Has this happened before? That reaction in this case. — Her genuine curiosity was almost cute.

— Once, a long time ago. — I closed my eyes remembering that painful memory. — But I don't remember what the reason was... after that incident I left Chaldea to go study at the clock tower for a few years.

—Mash disse que vocês cresceram juntas. — Estou começando a achar que Mash contou toda minha vida para eles. 

—More or less. I never lost contact with her, but most of our time together was long distance. — That's why I was forced to figure out when she was upset, happy, bothered or irritated by something simply by breathing, looking or speaking... it's a useful skill, but it brought me agony for a long time, especially when that damn Berryl from Team A was around and I couldn't do anything. — Surely if the explosion hadn't killed him I would have done it myself.

—Hm? — Gareth blinked at me in surprise.

—Huh? — Did I say that out loud? I tried to hide it with a disconcerted laugh. — Haha! Relax, I'm thinking about a bad person from the past.

—...Ah... well I guess if he's someone bad, it's not much of a problem, right? — Was she really asking me that? I nodded slightly.

—Well, it's not like I've ever killed anyone before, don't worry. I just give space to some intrusive thoughts sometimes, I swear I'm not crazy. — No crazy person who goes around killing others. I forgot to add the rest of the sentence, but it's okay, Gareth seemed to have accepted it.

—You really are quite energetic. — She smiled, opening the bedroom door, gently helping me sit on the bed next to the door. — It must be hard to have your body limited like that.

—It's kind of annoying not being able to stand up on your own, but I'm getting better. — I assured her, looking at my hands again, the pain was getting more distant, maybe my body waited a little longer to wake up just so I wouldn't have to stay vegetating in bed for too long. — Ah... what would I give for a bath, I feel like I'm dirty.

The young squire healed slightly. — W-well I couldn't but Mash was the one who was giving you a bath these days, I can ask her!

—Rest in peace, Gareth, I'll talk to her later. — I laughed at the way she seemed disconcerted by the possibility of me asking her. — If you want to join the others or go rest, feel free.

—... Are you sure you don't want company?

I slowly declined the offer. — I need to get my head together, I'll be fine, you don't need to worry about me.

—Okay, if you need anything, just call. — The young blonde started to leave.

—Gareth! — Her head quickly went back into the room, her big green eyes staring at me curiously as I gathered my strength and smiled. — Thank you.

She paused for a few seconds before smiling back. — No need to thank me!

And so I was left alone in that room.

I lay down looking at the window next to me, a starry sky.

I don't know how long I stayed there.

Minutes? Hours?

Everything came to my head at once. Weeks passed by like a shot.

Marisbury's death, the return to Chaldea, the introduction to the A-team, and then the explosion.

Five servants.

Arthur Pendragon, the King of Knights

Sir Bediviere

Sir Tristan

Sir Gareth

And the Knight of Treachery, Sir Mordred.

Quite a team, I must say.

My eyes were heavy, but I couldn't close them.

It's common for your body to refuse to relax again after a long period of sleep, my limbs were already less sore and I could stand without having to lean on anything. At that moment in the early morning, I had taken advantage of the silence to go outside, we were in a small forgotten village, with a few people who didn't care enough to gossip about outsiders in an abandoned house. Maybe they were tired of the war, maybe they were afraid to say anything... earlier when I sat on the stone next to the door of the house, I saw a mother passing by with her two daughters, just the fact that she met my gaze was enough for her to hurriedly move away from me.

Wars were truly terrible.

The landscape was at least beautiful, we were in a valley surrounded by some significant and verdant reliefs, just by looking at the grass at my feet, vibrant green I could notice the fertility of the soil. But the beauty stood out not on earth but in the starry night skies. Constellations and more constellations forcing themselves upon the naked eye. Looking over my shoulder I came across the sleeping form of Mash sitting on a chair by the front door.

I remember how we spent hours and hours talking about the sky outside Chaldea, how when I was in the clock tower I would always climb to its peak to show her the night sky of England, often being frustrated by the pollution that blocked the stars. But Mash always seemed happy, even when it rained, her smile was always what kept me doing that crazy thing for years… I remember when Olga caught me and I was grounded for over a month and then our little adventure ended with a bitter taste. It had been two weeks, my little sister must have been sick of that sky by now…

Deep down I felt bad for not having shared the moment with her, but it's not like she didn't enjoy it.

Artoria approached with firm steps, her presence filling the room in an almost palpable way. When our eyes met, I noticed her calm and analytical expression. It was difficult to decipher what was going on in her mind—perhaps a trait acquired throughout her reign. She examined Mash first, then turned her eyes to me, neutrality marking every movement.

“Your Majesty.” I greeted her first, offering a gentle smile. Then I returned my gaze to Mash. “Please forgive her. She is tired, but you can trust that I am here on alert.”

Arthur responded with a slight smile, almost hesitant, before approaching with the elegance that only a true knight possesses. When he extended his hand toward the empty space next to me, I was not surprised.

“May I?” he asked politely.

I nodded, and she sat down.

“No need to be so formal.” Her voice was low, almost relaxed. — Even though I still bear the title of King of Knights, there is no kingdom. And in this case, you are my Master.

“It feels strange to call you Saber or informally.” I laughed awkwardly, closing my eyes for a brief moment. “My mother... she was never a woman bound by traditions, but she always spoke of you with deep respect. I grew up listening to her stories. About your reign, your bravery... and the beauty in every detail—from your rise to your fall.”

Artoria looked away for a moment, fixing her gaze on the stars.

“I am flattered, Biatrice.” A soft smile danced on her lips. “But honestly, I think it would be better to call me Saber.”

Silence enveloped us, a rare moment of peace amidst the chaos. I watched her sideways, curiosity growing.

“You seem comfortable with me... Why? We don’t know each other.”

Artoria pondered before answering. Her green eyes searched mine, as if trying to decipher something beyond what was visible.

“Mash spoke of you sincerely, describing your essence. I saw no reason for hostility.” She paused, her words carefully measured. “I want to make something clear. I have taken the lead in recent weeks because I know the warriors who fight alongside us. But now that you are awake, I have no intention of usurping your place. We will follow what you deem best.”

“No.” My voice came out with an almost carefree lightness, but there was conviction there. “Actually, I think it’s fine this way. You have fought alongside them for years, you know them on a level that I cannot yet reach. Everything I know about you and the others comes from legends. So it is wise for us to balance this leadership. I want to acclimate myself to the group, understand its dynamics before making more important decisions. I will be happy to discuss strategies and be questioned.”

The king seemed to consider my words. His eyes wandered again over the dark houses around us, as if absorbing the weight of the lives that rested under the shadow of the impending war.

“I didn’t expect you to digest everything that you went, so well,” she began, her voice a little softer. “It seems like you’re used to the battlefield.” I let a playful smile form on my lips. “I’ve never been in a real battle before… but I’ve been well-informed my whole life about how to act in one. It’s that theory and practice thing.” I looked at my toes for a few moments. “But it seems like a good plan…” “I agree.” Artoria stood up. “I’ll contact Chaldea tomorrow to find out more about my condition. At the latest, we’ll start moving in a few days.” It was most likely an inference based on the way I was recovering. “I know you’re in bad shape, but the faster you recover, the faster we can fix the conditions that keep us here.” It was strange to have a conversation with the King of Knights in person, everything seemed so unreal until now. I was really in front of the King of Knights. His features were calm with hints of measured seriousness, but from the shape of his face, the shape of his eyes and even his height, I could have sworn that he was actually a woman who was no more than fifteen years old.

Wait.

“Saber?”

“Yes?” He asked, not knowing what was coming next.

“Are you a woman?” She looked at me as if she expected the worst from me, and I almost felt bad for asking. I hadn’t noticed, maybe it was just tiredness.

“Is there a problem with that?” Even though his voice was still polite, I could feel his guard set up like a trap there.

“Relax… it’s not a problem at all.” I raised my hands in the air. “I wouldn’t be surprised if some tales and legends are wrong in some details. In fact, I feel better with you being a woman…”

Maybe she had guessed my reasons, because her expression relaxed but still had a stern air. — Biatrice, I know you might feel more comfortable with me because I'm a woman, but I want you to know that I was raised to be the king and pretend to be a man. I don't have much knowledge of the female world beyond what I see.

— It's never too late for that to change. — I suggested, trying to avoid that scolding.

Danger alert. Change the subject. Change the subject immediately!

— There's something else I'd like to ask. — I coughed, clearing my throat, getting Saber's attention once again. — Mordred and you... is it okay to work together?

— If the question is whether it will hinder our performance, no. — Another cold answer. She clearly didn't want to get emotionally involved with that problem, and pushed it away with the simplicity of her goal... in that case, it was to recover the grail... but remembering how Mordred spoke of her earlier, she sounded a lot like a rebellious child. How complicated.

It's a bad habit to get too involved in this kind of thing, maybe I should just mind my own business.

But something bothered me.

"You two have unfinished business." I tried not to sound dry, but it was hard, since I knew a lot about family problems. You have them when your parents tend to throw you into other people's laps like a shuttlecock. "Maybe you don't mind it, but it clearly affects Mordred's performance. Besides, taking him to Sparta could lead to problems that you don't need to go through.

—How do you—

—How do I know that? —- I smiled, crossing my legs. — I'm good at using people, Saber. But to do that I need to have a good knowledge of them, analyzing the environment they're in, the way they talk, the way they refer to the things they love and don't love. Your bastard son is a big ball of tangled wool, a thread pulled wrong and then the thread gets tangled around your neck.

The king stares at me in surprise for a few moments, he seems to be conflicted about what to say next. —I...you remind me of a person from the past, who preferred not to care about his image.

—A bad person, I imagine. — I puff out my cheeks, after all it's natural for someone to subjugate someone who has the habit of taking advantage of the weaknesses and strengths of others.

—Someone complicated. — That was the only answer Saber gave me on the subject.

I knew at that moment that I needed to warn him. — Artoria, you were honest with me. I will return the favor. I want to make something clear from now on. I am not and do not want to be a hero. Honor, chivalry, justice... these are concepts that I abandoned some time ago... I do what needs to be done, when I want it done, for my ideals.

My words seemed to sink into his chest, but the answer did not take as long as I thought. — And what are your ideas?

When I opened my mouth to answer, I was faced with a rare silence. For the first time in my life, I was hearing those words directed at me. And it was like a bucket of cold water... What were my ideals? It was so natural for me to simply do what I wanted when I wanted, that I could never really think about why I did it... What I felt was not shame for having remained silent in front of the king, but the purest frustration for never having realized that detail.

“I never had a choice.”

Those words hammered my mind again, and without realizing it I was with my arms crossed and thinking.

“I internalized that phrase and engraved it in my veins, so when I tried to rebel, doing what I wanted, I was just doing what I thought was right, not because I determined an ideal within myself.”

Shit.

I remembered the last time I saw my teacher before returning to Chaldea, his words came back like a wave in my already frozen body.

“You should be proud of the potential you have, Beatrice. But in my eyes you are still an innocent and confused child… if you continue to be blind to your weaknesses you will end up disappointing yourself with a sad end.”

“I don’t know.” I answered with bitterness in my voice, it was the first time I had to say a sentence as painful as that. — I know I fight for my home, because it's where I live, where I have my books and-

“Biatrice Lencastre, the prodigy of the clock tower has no ideals…”

Ha…hahahaha!

Without realizing it, my own misfortune seemed like a great, well-formed and planned comedy. The attitude seemed to have taken the king even more by surprise than my previous statement.

“Biatrice?” She asked carefully.

Wiping my tears, I stood up, perhaps happier than I should have been. I finally understood.

“Don't worry, I'm laughing at how pathetic I sounded now.” I sighed, closing my eyes, enjoying the breeze on my face. — Actually, Artoria…this is the first time I've felt truly human.

“What?...Biatrice…I think I'd better go back and rest a little more, you don't look well.”

I didn't question much, I had scared the poor thing for more than a day. When I walked back into the house, I opened my eyes calmly.

“At least I know where to start now.” I murmured with a smile on my face.

However, I was surprised by the armored figure of Mordred sitting right on top of the table staring at me. I stopped in the kitchen and stared back at her.

“Good evening, Sir Mordred.” I hummed in a good mood.

“Listen well, Master.” She got down from the table and approached me in a threatening manner. “If you keep talking about me to my father like that, I won’t mind feeding your head to the fish.”

“....” I analyzed her green eyes beneath the mask, there was fear in them beneath all that unnecessary anger. “I’m sure they would love the feast, but have you ever thought that by doing that you’ll disappear?”

“Do you think I care? It’s not like everyone hasn’t died once.” She replied, crossing her arms, still with that threatening tone. — Besides, I'd rather disappear than serve a woman—

I just sighed.

Unfortunately, I turned my mind off as the knight continued to threaten and curse me. That just didn't seem interesting enough at the moment. Instead, I went back to the previous topic, about things I liked or didn't like, about what I was willing to do and why I would do them. Sure, I feel pity and pain for the suffering of others, but since it's a singularity, it's almost as if this pain is nothing... Do I have some level of psychopathy? Hm... no... I don't get pleasure in doing this…

Mordred kept talking and talking in front of me.

Why wasn't I irritated? It was a mystery. Hm

"You have beautiful eyes, you know? You should take off that helmet so they can be seen better." Without even realizing the words, they just slipped out.

Mordred stopped talking.

An awkward silence enveloped the knight and slowly a satisfied smile began to tug at my lips.

"Oh, so that's how you turn it off?" I almost laughed when I heard a frustrated grunt from beneath his mask.

—You're kidding me. — He growled and I almost found it cute.

Sir Mordred was impressively shorter than me, maybe ten centimeters shorter, it was enough to give me the confidence to lower myself a little more with a raised eyebrow.

“Can you blame me?” I grabbed his hand just in time for him to pull out his sword, a calmer and more serious expression softening the moment. — Stop. Let's lower our weapons, okay? You were offending a lady just now, I just punished you for it. I apologize if talking about how beautiful your eyes are offended you.

The knight seemed delightfully unresponsive, just shoving me with his shoulder before walking past me to go outside.

“Ah... a bratty child I see…” I sighed, sitting down at the table, at that point, I had already noticed the red-haired man sitting at the window to my far left. — I hope you haven't come to threaten me too, Sir Tristan.

I saw the shadow of a smile tug at his lips. — I apologize for the attitude of our pet angry turtle, Lady Biatrice… it's a shame that Sir Mordred doesn't know how to have good manners. He used to have a more thoughtful and less brutish attitude before.

— Before what? — I asked, swinging my legs on the edge of the table.

— Before Camelot started to fall I would say, I don't know what changed exactly or when. — That information seemed valuable on a certain level.

Footsteps drew attention to the other room inside the house, Sir Bediviere came out letting out a light yawn, they were taking turns to sleep and recover mana.

— Ahhh… Sir Mordred rebelled when our king didn't give him the right to assume the throne. — Still slightly tired, the knight approached the kettle in the sink, pouring tea into the nearest clean cup. — He took advantage of the king's absence due to the expedition to Rome, and then started the rebellion.

— For the throne? — I questioned, tilting my head back. Bediviere drank the tea, slowly opening his eyes before nodding in agreement. — That doesn't make sense...

— Oh? Well, what human being in his right mind wouldn't want to take a throne, to have the glory of being a king? And still, a bastard son of a king, but still a son. — Tristan sighed, getting up and heading towards the bedroom, maybe it was his turn to sleep... although... he always seemed to be sleeping. — Excuse me, Master.

— All. — I gave him space by pulling my legs up, even though I didn't need to.

However, Bedivere continued. — Don't mind that, Master, we have a habit of teasing each other... whether we're together or not. But I agree with you, it doesn't make sense, however I'm afraid that's an answer that only Sir Mordred has.

— It's not like I'm going to investigate her life, but it made me curious. — Frowning, I felt the man sit down next to me at the table, still drinking his tea.

—It's interesting… — He suddenly spoke.

��What? — I blinked at him in confusion.

—Your curiosity about the subject.

I blushed slightly, that was one of my biggest flaws, one that I couldn't overcome even if I tried my best. The whys appeared in front of me for each and every situation.

—I need to know a lot so I can deal with as many things as possible. — I looked at my feet as I always do when I get anxious about something. — Besides, I feel it's not right to consider only your legends and exclude what happened beneath them... glory and honor tend to turn good eyes away from the dust and blood that carve heroes like you. Arthur pulled the sword from the stone, but how many times did that sword feel the weight of your tired body? How many lives were not taken with it? Sir Bedivere returned with Excalibur three times to the king, but how was his heart as he watched the hope of Camelot dying with its king? For me, the simple final moral of a fairy tale is not enough... but those who polished it. Each story... each act... triggers your understanding.

Each story has its stories within it... and one is as important as the other...

I would like to hear each of these stories before I die.

The sound of the cup being placed on the table caught my attention. When I realized it, the man next to me was looking at me with a smile.

—Hm?

—Mash was really right about you. — Again with that?! Mash, what did you say? — Go rest Master, tomorrow we will have a long day.

[gloamses]

fourth wing script doctor

these books are so weird. they’re so weird that I keep chewing over what makes them bizarre. because my damage is that I always WANT to like stuff. sexy dragonrider fantasy sounds fun and I want to have fun. but I can’t have fun when there’s nothing going on behind the eyes. there is so much plot; and yet they’re not… ABOUT anything. there is so much plot, and no point. they’re written as if the author desperately WANTS you to think that they’re about something, that all this is happening for a reason, that she has some message she wants to deliver or theme she wants to explore, but that clearly isn’t the case.

I don’t think any piece of media necessarily HAS to have a message or some profound observation about the human experience or whatever. I accept & embrace that some things are just fluff. but even the fluffiest thing in the entire world still needs themes, which lend cohesion and purpose to storylines and character arcs. fourth wing has no themes. there are a lot of things that perhaps one COULD argue is a theme. and somewhere in these things are the bones of a good story maybe.

the most obvious one is a theme of, I guess, propaganda, and nationalism, and the construction of narrative especially as undertaken by violent jingoistic military powers, and who gets to construct those narratives and who benefits/suffers, and questioning what you know. that COULD be a good unifying theme for a book like this, except that the main character never goes through an arc of questioning things. she doesn’t do much of using her alleged book smarts to notice when things don’t add up, putting the pieces together, figuring out the truth, etc. epiphanies happen at her. she chances into plot developments through no merit of her own. when she discovers truths, she seamlessly shifts her mindset as if deprogramming from nationalism is as easy as flicking a switch.

this is even an enemies-to-lovers romance - it would be dumb easy to tie these things together thematically. the love interest, xaden, is the son of an enemy faction leader, whom violet’s mother had executed. so everyone, including violet, assumes that xaden is going to try and do away with violet, and they have a few contentious interactions, but then violet bonds to a dragon, who is xaden’s dragon’s mate, and therefore they can’t harm each other because if one of them dies then they both die. this is stupid for a variety of reasons, but mostly because, spoiler alert, xaden never wanted to kill violet at all. in fact he had agreed with violet’s mother, in advance, that he would protect her. so the whole conflict is mostly just violet’s assumptions, that she had in her head about xaden in advance, and then xaden being a douche to her in a way that he is very clearly a douche to everyone.

in my opinion, this would be a better story if the contrivance of the dragon-mate-bonding were simply not there, just cut it, because it doesn’t matter and it hamstrings the stakes of the potential character development. instead, you could have violet & xaden start off contentious and adversarial, because everyone around them is saying that they’re going to be, but then they could get to know each other a little better and realize that neither of them actually wish harm on the other, and then have a moment of “hey we both just assumed the worst of each other because of who our parents were. that’s kind of messed up. we’re our own people and we choose what our relationships will be” and then that could build into the larger thematic arc, wherein maybe violet says something uncharitable about the enemy nation, and thinks “wait a minute that kind of sounds like what I or other people said about xaden, and they were wrong. why DO I hate poromiel. I’ve just been uncritically accepting what everyone says poromiel is like, and hating them because I’ve been told to. what if we’re wrong about them too, what if we’re all killing and dying based on assumptions and stereotypes about people we’ve never met” and then she could go and researches the history of the conflict, because she is supposedly keen on history and academia, and realize that things aren’t adding up, that information seems to be missing, or is dissatisfied with the answers she finds, and she decides she wants to know firsthand about the other side, or something.

but none of that happens. xaden doesn’t wish harm on violet - but it’s not because she’s an innocent woman who shouldn’t be held responsible for her mother’s atrocities, he never had any particular antipathy for her, it was all imaginary in violet’s head. and violet finds out about the resistance and the atrocities that the empire has committed, not because she goes through character development and starts questioning the propaganda she’s been fed her whole life, but because the empire and the resistance are both too incompetent to keep their secrets hidden.

somewhat related, one COULD also argue that there is an overarching theme of human disposability. lots of people die at the war college. lots of young people kill and die senselessly. they die in training, they die to dragons, they die to each other, and this is not only accepted but tacitly encouraged to Weed Out The Weak. the main character is unqualified and unprepared to go to military school, but she goes because her mother forces her to, even though everyone takes this to mean she is being sent to her death. once there, she bonds to a juvenile dragon, who is essentially defenseless in combat but DOES have uniquely powerful magic because that is a property of baby dragons I guess. and the government is hoarding resources and refusing to call a truce and ally with their neighboring country, despite the existence of a larger threat; they’re willing to let the people over the border die en masse. so there could be a notion here that you can offer your life for your country as enthusiastically as you want, but at the end of the day you are a drop in the bucket, meat for the grinder, a pawn on a board, and the imperial system will never care for you in return. but no, this doesn’t work as a theme either, as is, because andarna is an unprecedented fringe case. juvenile dragons aren’t supposed to bond, and aren’t supposed to fight, and their incredible powers are just useless I guess, and they are jealously protected by other dragons. and everyone agrees that violet really shouldn’t be in war school either; about which they are correct. everyone is rightly shocked and appalled that violet, a physically unfit and disabled woman, is there. there’s no sense that people are throwing up their hands and going “lol welp someone’s gotta be the cannon fodder,” which they might do, if this were the theme. likewise, if this were the theme, juvenile dragons could be encouraged or even forced to bond, so that their huge weird powers could be utilized by the military even if it risks their lives. and then violet could be shocked at the inhumanity of this, perhaps also connect it to the ways that the children of rebels were punished after the last insurrection, and this too could lead her to question everything she knows.

there could be a theme about physical limitations, underestimating people based on appearance, and proving others’ assumptions wrong through success? okay, first of all, why should I root for the main character to succeed in evil imperial dragonriding school. even she doesn’t want to be there, so why would I want her to be there, barring the fact that dragons are rad and badass. but most importantly, violet and andarna AREN’T being underestimated. they really shouldn’t be there. like not to be ableist but I feel like untreated joint hypermobility disorders, and also a complete lack of any physical/combat training whatsoever, are reasonable disqualifying factors for military combat positions. violet and andarna DO need to be protected. violet specifically needs to be protected and accommodated and also remedially trained by her peers, pulling their time and focus from their own life-or-death situations. she doesn’t even really disprove people’s expectations meaningfully: she just cheats. she cheats to gain “success” in wildly improbable ways that clearly won’t serve her in the actual scenarios she’s meant to be training for. it doesn’t make her look clever, like she thinks outside the box to come up with her own clever solutions - it makes her look like she can’t adapt and is just prolonging the inevitable. and either way, if this was ever supposed to be a theme in the first book, it’s basically irrelevant by the second. all her mental real estate in iron flame is taken up by her badgering her boyfriend for rebel secrets that the rebel faction has no reason to trust her with. she’s now a competent fighter and rider. her disability is pretty much completely forgotten. if this were the theme, violet could perhaps genuinely want to go to dragonriding school. she could perhaps still be disabled, but in some way that she’s already managing, in preparation for dragonriding school. she could perhaps be a capable fighter, but physically petite such that people underestimate her, and also such that she needs to fight or train in unconventional ways, eg being more suited to speed and agility than brute strength. or, with or without the disability, she could be conscripted; with the expectation that she and others will in fact be cannon fodder, but she succeeds against all odds. in alanna fashion, this arc need not be drawn out throughout the entire series, but it could have at least been a decent unifying idea for book 1.

one could perhaps say that there is a theme of family. family ties, family expectations, legacy, etc. violet is forced into dragonriding school by her mother, despite the objections of her sister; and despite the fact that their older brother was killed in service not too long before. brennan, the dead brother, haunts the narrative for much of the first book. furthermore the “marked ones”, the children of rebels, are both condemned and saved by the actions of their parents. furthermore andarna isn’t tairn’s offspring, she’s effectively an orphan due to abandonment (iirc anyway, idk this twist tested my focus), but they clearly have a father/daughter relationship. all the same, she was able to bond so young because of her lack of parental supervision, I guess. so ok this might be something: basically everybody, every major character, is here because of the actions of their parents. but no, that doesn’t work either, because violet’s mom is absent almost all the time and violet barely thinks about her when she’s not around. towards the end of book 1, violet’s internal monologue has a line like “this whole time I’ve been trying to prove I’m nothing like my mother” and it’s like what? where?? when? you haven’t been thinking about your mother a whole lot. I mean clearly you have a rocky relationship, but I guess you didn’t want to distance yourself that much, since you stayed in the military despite being presented with escape routes, and despite being upset at the discovery that serving in a war might involve killing people sometimes. violet doesn’t want to go to the dragon riders’ quadrant, she thinks it spells her certain death. but she stays, even after being presented with a potential out, and her motivations for doing this are unclear - it seems like it’s just to spite her friend, this childhood crush who is kind of an overprotective asshole about her being there. also, spoiler alert, her brother is alive, it turns out, but it really doesn’t matter, he doesn’t really affect or change anything in any meaningful way, it’s not explained how he faked his own death or why he’s joined the resistance, and it seems like the second book keeps forgetting that he’s there.

if this were more about family, the motivations of both violet and her mother could be coherent. her mother could be sending her to the military due to weird survivor’s-guilt-by-proxy, like she feels like the dead son was the stronger sibling and resents frail violet for being alive while brennan is dead: in this case general sorrengail is in fact genuinely sending violet to get killed, as if this can set the narrative right. OR, if you want to be boring I guess, mom sorrengail is AGAINST violet joining the military, because she doesn’t want to lose another child and thinks violet could never succeed, in which case violet joins the military against her mother’s wishes and proves her wrong. either way, violet could have some complex about subverting/disproving/exceeding her mother’s expectations. she could join the military out of any number of fun things: spite; desire for her mother’s approval; desire to be with her remaining family, so that they won’t get killed like brennan while she stays helpless at home; a survivor’s-guilt-related drive to prove that she is strong enough to deserve to live while her brother is dead. then brennan’s reappearance could result in some kind of change of heart, for both violet AND her mother: brennan never would have wanted violet to feel like she had to prove the worth of her own life, especially on account of his death, and now that he is alive, she can’t avoid this, and feels weirdly hollow about the path she’s chosen. whereas her mother could realize that she’s done wrong by her daughter in letting her languish in the shadow of her brother’s death (and then her sacrifice at the end of the second book wouldn’t feel completely anemic). (I don’t know where xaden fits into all this but I don’t care that much. I guess make him a more likable man and then we can talk about his family issues or whatever.)

and, I don’t even think I need to say this, but my last fix for this manuscript would be that the sex should be freakier. violet has lightning powers and she never once zaps that boy? their dragons are both bonded, thus they all get horny at the same time, and the girl is bonded to the male dragon and the boy is bonded to the female dragon, and there’s no weird telepathic gender stuff? gg. and that’s it.

[angelgirl768]

Man, sometimes I just forget how much I love Daniel until I start writing him again- (fic soon?)

Like this man is so misunderstood by so many people. He’s not evil. He’s not a villain. He’s not bloodthirsty.

He was a brand new deviant who couldn’t control his emotions or actions made as a result of them (think of it like having the emotional regulation of a toddler in a fully capable adult’s body) and the first thing he felt was intense betrayal and fear. Things were bound to go wrong.

He couldn’t control his emotions - didn’t know how to - as he saw John buy a new android and wanted the problem - the pain - gone. The three shots were clear overkill so it’s clear that he was acting purely off of emotions that he couldn’t control. Not to mention that John was the one who bought the new android so Daniel wouldn’t have been needed anymore - which meant that he would have been reset and sold on or simply thrown away. Either way Daniel would have been erased and effectively killed. As a new deviant, I could only imagine a few things that might have been scarier to him at the moment than death and, in a way, you could argue that killing John was in self defense to prevent that death.

The first responder isn’t killed until 30 minutes later and that’s only after he shot at Daniel first, again self defense. Sure he has Emma at this point, but there’s no context to how he got her or what he plan was. She could have been confused with the chaos going on and ran to him. They could have been planning to leave together when the cop showed up at the only exit and drastic measures had to be made. Besides, at this point his only weapon is a gun (no 70 story drop) and you can’t convince me for a second that he’d ever even think about using it on Emma.

The rest of the cops that come brandishing guns all want to kill him and he’s still so hoped up on betrayal and anxiety and fear that there’s no way any of his decisions are made with a clear mind. He’s acting on impulse and a desperation to live. He knows they won’t risk shooting Emma, so if keeping her with him on the edge is the only way to keep himself alive, then so be it. Hell, it’s only if Connor drives Daniel further into a corner of hopelessness that he falls off the building and lets Emma die too.

Though, the most damning piece of evidence that he isn’t some monster comes straight from Daniel himself in the evidence room saying that he didn’t want to hurt anyone. He was just scared.

He really just thought his family loved him, felt the ultimate betrayal of learning that they didn’t, couldn’t control his newfound emotions and the actions they caused, and did things he didn’t want to do because he was scared. Scared of being betrayed. Scared of being replaced. Scared of dying. Scared of not being loved.

And that’s why Daniel’s one of the most relatable characters in dbh and tied for my favorite character in the whole game with Simon. I love my Danny boy and the sweet guy who just wants to be loved that he really is <3