#to a hero that just is because the story needs one

[lizziesangel]

AN ANGSTY ASS REQUEST, I wanna cry and I know you are gonna do amazing. Love your writing. Kind of backstory: So.....Reader is the love of Rafe’s life and the only person who has shown him kindness and given him affection. They are kidnapped for some reason, perhaps kept on a boat, and she falls overboard. Rafe escapes. A BODY (not hers, but can’t be certain) gets washed up at some point and she is determined to be dead. So just kind of as back story....you don't need to write that part if you don't want to <3 So present/and well....the request really: Funeral is held and everything. He is walking around for about 2 months, mourning her, being an ABSOLUTE WRECK. He has nightmares constantly about her and when he’s awake, she haunts him still. He is drinking all the time because he can’t cope. UNKNOWN……she survived but was still held captive. She manages to escape and breaks into his house. HE THINKS HE IS OUT OF HIS MIND, DRUNK but it’s such a teary felt reunion when he realizes that she’s real. Maybe he gives her a bath (cus lets be real) and takes care of her (and again, let's be real, she is probably really weak) and is just shaking with relief, happiness and is so soft with her :(

wow, this is such an amazing request, i absolutely love this!!

the salty air was sharp and cold, biting against your skin as the boat rocked beneath your feet. it wasn’t the gentle sway of a calm ocean—it was erratic, violent, as if the sea itself mirrored the chaos that had unfolded in the past few hours.

rafe’s face was bloodied, his lip split and bruises already blooming along his jaw. his wrists were bound behind his back, the ropes digging into his skin as he struggled against them. he was glaring at the men surrounding him, his usual cocky bravado barely masking the sheer terror in his eyes.

“look,” rafe growled, his voice low and dangerous, though it cracked with desperation, “you’ve got me. i’ll get you your money. just let her go. she doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

one of the men, a grizzled figure with a jagged scar running down his cheek, barked out a laugh. “you don’t get it, do you? you think you can screw us over and just walk away? nah.

“you’re gonna feel what it’s like to lose everything.”

the words sent a shiver down your spine. you’d known rafe’s life wasn’t clean—he carried the weight of bad decisions and even worse company—but you never thought it would come to this. the fear in his eyes, barely veiled beneath his fury, was enough to make your heart clench.

“please,” you interjected, your voice trembling as you stepped closer. “please, just let us go. we won’t—”

the sharp crack of a slap silenced you, the force of it sending you stumbling back. rafe surged forward, his shout of rage muffled by the gag they shoved into his mouth.

“enough talking,” the scarred man said coldly. “you want to play the hero, cameron? let’s see how much you care about her.”

before you could react, multiple strong hands grabbed your arms. you thrashed against them, your heart pounding as you looked back at rafe. his eyes were wild, his muffled cries growing frantic as the men dragged you toward the edge of the boat.

“no!” you screamed, your voice raw as the dark water loomed closer. the waves were fierce, crashing against the sides of the vessel, the moonlight glinting off their surface like shards of broken glass.

“rafe!” you cried, your voice breaking.

he was struggling so hard now that blood began to seep from where the ropes cut into his wrists. his muffled shouts were desperate, pleading.

“throw her over,” the scarred man commanded.

“no! please—” you begged, but it was too late.

the cold hit you like a thousand needles, stealing the air from your lungs as you plunged into the frigid ocean. the world above became muffled, the boat a distant silhouette against the black sky as you were swallowed by the waves. you fought to stay afloat, the current pulling at you like unseen hands.

above, rafe was a man undone. he thrashed violently, his screams muffled and his face twisted in agony. “let me go! i’ll kill you! i’ll kill you!” the men barely paid him any mind as they turned the boat, leaving the spot where you disappeared into the water.

“you better hope she’s a good swimmer, cameron,” the scarred man sneered. “and you’d better figure out how to pay us back.”

the funeral rafe held was a quiet affair, not because you deserved anything less, but because he couldn’t bear the thought of it being a spectacle. the small, secluded chapel was filled with the scent of lilies and a suffocating weight of sorrow. he sat in the front row, shoulders hunched, his trembling hands clutching the edge of the pew.

he couldn’t look at the casket, though it was empty.

the minister’s words were hollow, background noise to the storm raging inside him. “a kind soul, taken too soon…” “beloved by all who knew her…” every word made his chest ache. rafe clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white, willing himself not to break down in front of the small group of mourners.

afterward, when the empty coffin was lowered into the ground, he stood motionless, staring at the fresh mound of earth. a few people offered condolences, their words shallow and meaningless. he didn’t respond, barely even acknowledged them. what could they say? no words could bring you back.

once everyone left, rafe stayed behind. minutes turned into hours as he sat on the damp grass, staring at the grave as though he could will it to undo itself. he whispered apologies to the air, his voice breaking. “i should’ve done something. i should’ve stopped them. i’m so sorry, my baby.”

the days that followed bled together into a haze of grief and self-loathing.

rafe couldn’t stand being at home. every corner of the house reminded him of you. the couch where you’d curled up with a blanket and a book, the kitchen where you’d danced with him to music only the two of you could hear—it was all too much. he turned to the only thing that numbed the pain: alcohol.

whiskey became his constant companion, the burn in his throat a welcome distraction from the ache in his heart. he barely ate, barely slept. the nightmares wouldn’t let him. every time he closed his eyes, he saw you falling, the cold water dragging you under while he screamed your name. he’d wake up drenched in sweat, his chest heaving, the echo of your voice fading into silence.

he stopped answering his phone. friends tried to check in on him, but he pushed them away. he couldn’t face their pity, couldn’t stand the thought of them telling him to “move on.”

how could he move on when the love of his life was gone?

the two-month mark came and went, and rafe was a shadow of the man he used to be. his once meticulously styled hair was unkempt, his clothes rumpled, his face hollow from lack of sleep and too many sleepless nights spent drowning in liquor.

he spent most of his days wandering aimlessly, haunted by memories of you. he would catch glimpses of you everywhere—in the stranger who had your laugh, in the perfume that smelled like yours. his heart would leap, only to crash when he realized it wasn’t you.

one evening, he found himself on the beach, the waves crashing against the shore. he sank into the sand, letting the cold wind whip against his face. he stared at the horizon, the sun dipping below the water in a blaze of gold and crimson.

“i don’t know how to do this without you,” he whispered to the empty expanse of ocean. his voice cracked, and he buried his face in his hands, the weight of his grief crushing him.

for rafe, the world had stopped the moment you disappeared. time dragged on, but he remained frozen, lost in a limbo of regret and longing. he didn’t know if he could survive without you.

he wasn’t sure he even wanted to.

his nightmares were relentless. every second he closed his eyes, he was back on that boat, watching helplessly as you were thrown overboard. the icy waves swallowed you, your desperate cries for help echoing in his ears. he’d wake up gasping, drenched in sweat, his chest heaving as he reached out for you in the darkness—only to find cold sheets and empty space.

you weren’t there, and the realization gutted him every time.

the only way he knew how to cope was to drown himself in alcohol. bottles littered the floor of his house, their contents his only escape from the crushing weight of his grief. the whiskey blurred the edges of his pain, but it never truly numbed it. instead, it left him hollow, stumbling through a life that felt meaningless without you.

the storm outside was fierce, rain pelting against the windows and wind howling like a wounded animal. rafe sat slumped on the couch, a nearly empty bottle of whiskey dangling from his fingers. he stared blankly at the television, though he wasn’t watching it. the sound was muted, the images flickering across the screen as if mocking his apathy.

the sharp sound of glass shattering upstairs jolted him from his stupor. for a moment, he froze, his foggy mind struggling to process it. he shook his head, muttering to himself, “you’re losing it, rafe.”

but then he heard it again—a faint creak of floorboards. His heart began to race, adrenaline cutting through the haze of alcohol. grabbing a nearby lamp as a makeshift weapon, he stumbled toward the stairs, each step heavier than the last.

he pushed open the bedroom door, his breath hitching at what he saw.

you were there.

at first, he thought it was another cruel trick of his mind. you stood by the window, your body bruised, your clothes torn and soaked from the rain. your hair was a tangled mess, your face pale and gaunt, but it was you.

“rafe…” your voice cracked, barely more than a whisper.

“n... no,” he muttered, shaking his head. his grip on the lamp tightened. “you’re not real. you’re not—”

“i am,” you interrupted, taking a shaky step toward him. “i got away. i—i’m here.”

the lamp fell from his hands, clattering to the floor as he stared at you, his chest rising and falling rapidly. when your knees buckled, he lunged forward, catching you before you could hit the ground.

the moment your weight fell into his arms, he knew. you were real.

a sob broke from his throat as he held you tightly, his fingers digging into your sides as if afraid you’d disappear again. “you’re alive,” he choked out, his voice raw. “oh, my God, you’re alive.”

“i am,” you murmured weakly, your hands clutching at his shirt. “i am.”

rafe carried you to the bathroom, his arms trembling with relief and adrenaline. he set you down on the edge of the tub, his hands shaking as he turned on the water, testing the temperature to make sure it wasn’t too hot.

“i... i need to—you need to get cleaned up,” he said, his voice unsteady. he avoided your eyes, his movements jerky and unsure. “you’re freezing. God, you’re so cold.”

you didn’t protest, too weak and tired to do much more than nod. he helped you out of your soaked clothes, his touch gentle, his eyes filled with guilt and tenderness.

once the tub was filled, he eased you into the warm water, his heart breaking at the way you winced. he knelt beside the tub, his sleeves rolled up as he carefully washed away the grime and salt from your skin. his hands trembled as they ran through your hair, untangling the knots with a tenderness that brought tears to your eyes.

“i thought i lost you,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “i thought—i thought you were gone forever.”

“i almost was,” you admitted, your voice barely audible.

tears streamed down his face as he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against your damp hair. “you’re safe now,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “i’m not letting you go again. i promise.”

after the bath, rafe wrapped you in the softest towel he could find and carried you to his bed. he brought you water, food, anything you might need, though you barely managed a few bites. he sat beside you, his hand never leaving yours, as if reassuring himself that you were really there.

that night, for the first time in months, he didn’t have nightmares. Instead, he fell asleep with you in his arms, the steady rhythm of your breathing the only sound he needed to finally find peace.

CURRENT TAGLIST⋆⭒˚｡⋆

@maybankslover ⟢ @diorstarkey

[gallusrostromegalus]

I did not care at all for Aizen Sosuke when I first read bleach. I found him boring, and worst, unthreatening.

So it's pretty jarring for me that I have been OBSESSED with him in your AU. I'm rotating him at great speed

Walt Disney was a jackass who was flat-out wrong about a lot of very important things, but he employed a great many geniuses of storytelling, and there's a piece in Disney Animation: The Illusion of Life by Frank Thomas and Ollie Johnson that discusses a key feature of Disney Studios Character Design:

"Of all characters, villains are the most fun to develop because they make everything else happen. They are the instigators, and always more colorful than the Hero. They may be dramatic, awesome, insidious or semi-comic, but they MUST be appealing. Almost any story becomes innocuous if all the evil is eliminated, but we do not necessarily gain strength by being frightening. we want a character that will hold the audience and entertain them, even if it's a Chilling Type of Entertainment."

And I've found that to be an important principle of character design, especially the kind of canon restructuring I do.

Aizen had a LOT going for him in canon- for all of Bleach's other faults, Aizen's conspiracy and THE REVEAL are spectacularly constructed and executed. I legit screamed and threw my mug across my dorm room when I read it in the manga the first time. He's also conventionally attractive and the translations I was reading gave him the speech patterns of Every Douchebag In Your 101 Political Theory Who Thinks He's The Smartest Man In The Room, which made him a terrific combination of Unfortunately Charming, Menacingly Competent and Engagingly Obnoxious.

...But he falls flat in a few key places.

Aizen's reasoning could be MUCH more sympathetic- After all, he is RIGHT. Soul Sciety does suck ass and all the options kind of suck. Who designs a universe like that? An asshole who needs killing, that's who. The best kind of Unhinged Madmen are the kind who spell out their reasoning and you realize that there but for the grace of Not Having Super Powers Go I. Canon!Aizen makes a few Good Rhetorical Points, but seems to lack any personal connection to his all-consuming plan.

Another issue is that nearly every villain with A Plan has a clear end goal AND a lot of the menace is drawn from the fact that the plan *could* work. Aizen's plan for betraying the court guard and then killing them off before proceeding into the Royal Realm to Kill God sorta falls apart when it's clear he planned to use pretty much all his accumulated forces dealing with the court guard and doesn't seem to have a plan for the Even More Powerful Royal Guard, let alone God. For how meticulously planned the rest of the plot is, the last two VERY IMPORTANT steps are just handwaved.

So I sat down and started with the plot beats Aizen MUST hit, and tried to imagine what kind of guy would he have to be to get there? And I came up with this:

Sosuke Aizen is a fundamentally good man with genuinely good intentions who is really trying his best for the whole world.

Think about it- what lengths would you NOT go to if you think you found a genuine shot at Fixing Everything Wrong With The World Forever? We all talk about killing Hitler if we found an actual Time Machine- would you do it if your only chance was when he was a baby? Would you kill an infant if it meant you could stop World War II before it starts? Of course you would! One small life for over 75 million? You'd be insane not to! What if you found out that you could prevent the future extinction of Humanity by killing your best friend today? Ten Billion lives? For theirs? It's simple, really- Hell, it's your Moral Obligation to do that if you were SURE!

-And Aizen IS sure. He is absolutely, totally, completely sure that He Can Save Everyone if he just gets rid of that idiot sitting on the throne of heaven. He's seen the plans! He knows where the gate of heaven is! It's So SIMPLE he just has to get inside, and he knows EXACTLY how to do it, yes it'll be hard and there will be... unpleasant parts but. IT. WILL. WORK.

He is of course, insane.

Aizen didn't have One Bad Day that set him irrevocably on the path of madness. It was a succession of catastrophic disappointments and realizations that he was living in a fundamentally irrational world that made irrational thinking look sane. The Catastrophe that befell his family, working for the central 46 and later the court guard and seeing how the organizations were inept to the point of abuse or corrupt to the core, learning that The Actual House Of God is a place he can just? Go to? Anyone would start thinking you were just a handful of white lies and homicides away from Fixing Everything, Forever.

Not only is Aizen insane, he is nowhere near as smart as he thinks. He is smart- He does have a knack for being able to guess just what will spur someone to action or make them recoil in fear. But mostly he gets extremely lucky Many, Many, MANY times. On some level I think it gives him Confirmation Bias that this is what he's supposed to be doing. Aizen is also nowhere near as smart as (nearly) everyone else thinks he is. His bizarrely good luck makes him look like a hyper-competent genius when really it was really the catastrophic failure of Soul Society as a Society that let a merely mediocre conspirator to evade detection for so long.

Being that he is at most, mediocre, he had to have Outside Help, specifically Gin's emotional support and Tousen's Competence- and if there's a part of the fic that stays true to canon, it's this.

Gin is Aizen's emotional rock in Canon. He's the ONE guy that Aizen genuinely trusts, and considers his 'my only real partner' in his scheme. There's more than one occasion in the manga where Aizen more or less asks Gin "Is this actually a good idea?" and Gin backs him up every time.

...Which is more than a bit at odds with Gin's later stated goal of "I did all this to kill you at your most vulnerable to protect rangiku" . It never rang true to me. So I started thinking why on EARTH Gin would be backing Aizen up like that, and realized there was a hole in my world building that he slotted into nicely :)

On the other hand, the entire fic was started because I didn't like how Tousen's character arc ended, so you can imagine how much he's changed.

But in canon, TOUSEN DOES ALL THE FUCKING WORK.

Lab work? Tousen.

Supervising the arrancar directly? Tousen

Actually getting victims for the Hogyoku experiments? Tousen.

Altering all the archives to keep Aizen's plot hidden? Tousen.

Sending all the Orders allegedly from the central 46? Tousen.

Making sure Unohana believes Aizen's fake body is real? Tousen.

Managing all the day-to-day operations at Las Noches? Tousen.

There's even this little exchange, which is Tousen's first appearance in the Manga:

Aizen establishes this entire meeting is a little fake-out a few pages later with "now isn't that a convenieint time for the alarm to go off?"

which makes him look like he's investigating, but he's also going "Good job on disrupting everyone with the alarm Gin!" It's ballsy of Aizen to do a check-in on his plan with his main nemesis in the room, but also his style.

I think the same thing is happening here with Tousen. To make sure Ukitake wouldn't raise a huge fit about the proposed execution of his beloved lieutenant, which might fuck everything up for Aizen because Ukitake is one of like, three people Yamamoto will listen to (sort of).

...So he had Tousen poison Ukitake to keep him out of the way.

ALL. THE. FUCKING. WORK. It's even in his name! The characters for "Tousen" Refer to a legendary scholar the emperor of China sent out to discover the secret of immortality- only to kill the scholar when he returned with that secret. The character for "Kaname" means "Necessary/Vital/keystone" or "to organize/take account of". His name LITERALLY means "Scholar who is essential for the plan (that we're going to kill later)"

Another thing Kubo did well in Bleach: his name game is Off The Fucking Charts.

-but I digress.

In AEIWAM, it's much the same only this time Aizen sees this very dangerous witness who is immune to his illusions but also extremely snart and capable young man and instead of risking being caught out by the one damn guy who can see right through him, opts to Curse Kaname into doing as Aizen says, and doing all the fucking work of this conspiracy against his will.

It's Not Nice, but Aizen genuinely thinks he's doing Kaname a favor by subjecting him to this degrading and incredibly painful servitude- I mean, Aizen's only other option was to Kill him to keep his silence, and isn't it wonderful that you get to help fix the universe? You're the one always going on about Justice, I don't understand why you didn't jump at the chance to mete out some Divine Justice.

An Excerpt from the captain's meeting in between the Massacre that made the visored and Zaraki's arrival, when Kaname realizes Yamamoto is 100% serious about his promotion to captain of the 9th and goes to throw up in the garden. Aizen offers to go check on him while Unohana very politely reads the general the riot act:

---

"You broke your toy Aizen." Kaname coughs.

"…I really am sorry for running you ragged like this. I really shouldn't have gotten so mad about you hiding the the hogyoku- it was very petty of me." The bastard sighs, taking off his glasses and rubbing his face, entirely genuine.

Kaname stayed on his hands and knees, weaving slightly as another wave of nausea flowed through him, powered by disgust and rage.

"How about this- I've got a lot coming up with the new job, training Gin and disposing of Kiganjo- So how about I promise to not give you any orders for a while? You will have to keep our arrangement a secret and not interfere, of course, but other than that, you're free to do as you please for- a year and a day is traditional isn't it? No, that's not going to heal by then- Oh, would you look at that!"

Kaname didn't have the strength to offer his usual rebuttal that he won't look at anything, ever. The sides of his head tingle like his skul was being pressed between two enormous hands made of static electricity.

"It's 11:11! Alright, I won't give you any Orders until 11:11 am on November 11th, 1911. That's easy to remember! What do you think?" Aizen continued cheerfully, patting his back and the Curse nails.

"…I can't." Kaname groaned. He could scream if he had the energy, but due to Aizen's Illusions, nobody would hear him. "I actually physically can't think. Please…"

"Of course! You really are such a help to me, it would be a shame to lose you. I'll even amend our contract, so you don't get paranoid-" There was a sizzling sound and a new stroke of hot pain up Kaname's spine as Aizen did something to the wretched Bakudo. "There. No compulsions for eleven years and a day. What do you say?"

Kaname grimaced, but dropped his head. Save the energy to fight another day. "…thank you, Aizen-sama."

"Good man! Let's get you on your feet." Aizen beamed, putting his glasses back on and offering him an arm.

---

He genuinely thinks that he's doing everyone a huge favor and if they don't get it it's because they're just not smart enough, but it's alright, He's a Benevolent God and they'll appreciate all his hard work the next time around :)

Aizen is a man who is FULL of joy. He loves what he does! He actively takes pleasure in it! And I think that's something that REALLY delivers in terms of sympathy AND horror for him. Who *Wouldn't* have a great time actually fixing the universe? He's a good man who enjoys doing good works, and this is the greatest work of all!

It also Delivers on the Horror when I get to write the deliciously fun scenes where Aizen is Elbows-deep in a novel War Crime and waxing poetic about how GREAT this is, or being confused why the people around him are reacting with fear. Don't you want to make everything better too?

[cheshirewrites]

Luka gives the girl a thorough look over, noting her knotted hair, the dirt smudged on her cheeks, and the thread-bare state of her clothing. Holes in the knees of her trousers, patches on her elbows (clearly hand sewn, he knows that much), even the fabric of her bandana fraying at the seams.

She looks like an ordinary girl, one who has faced far too much peril during his father's rule.

"Are you certain?" Luka asks his guard for a second time, because he doesn't want to be wrong about this. Doesn't want to put the weight of the world on a little girl because of a false prophecy. "You're sure-"

"Yes, my prince," Fox says, grinning their sharp grin. "My love, my dear, you know I wasn't misinformed. The Misses aren't wrong about things like this."

And they're right, of course.

Ari and Dahlia were the best advisors a prince could ask for.

So when the two of them found a prophecy, claiming that a girl who shared his birthday would grow to hate the world, would try and burn it to the ground if she was left alone? Luka just wanted to find the girl and hold her close, apologize for everything he hadn't done and everything he hasn't changed yet. Prophecies are complicyed, after all, and Luka refuses to look at someone and only see the bad in them.

People deserve more than that from their prince, their king, their- whatever title Luka gained when Fox convinced a Dark Lord to overthrow the throne.

( After all, Fox is the best person Luka knows, and Gods know that Fox isn't innocent, no matter how sweetly they may smile. )

"Do you want some cake?" Luka says, and he knows how strange it must look. The prince and his guard, offering you cake in your own home, and on your birthday, at that. "I promise it isn't poisoned or anything, my aunties Dahlia and Ari made it, and both of them think poisoning is a cheap way to fight."

The girl stares up at him for a long, long moment, until something like amusement creeps onto her face. "Sure," she says, taking a few steps closer. "I've got some questions, though, and I want answers."

Luka grins at that. "Of course!" He says, almost shouting. "Can I ask you one, tiny thing first?" A nod. "What's your name? The Aunties told me a few things about you, like where to find you, but they left that out, and-"

The girl holds up a hand, and Luka falls silent. His grin turns sheepish. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it, Princey," she says, grinning. "The name's Cassandra, but most people just call me Cass. Now-" Cass leans forward, crossing her arms across her chest- "Tell me about these aunties of yours."

"They're actually the reason I'm here!" Luka says. "Ari and Dahlia -- yes, that Ari and Dahlia, the long dead Hero and Dark Lord, it's a long story -- told me I needed to find a girl who shared my birthday, and well," his voice trails off, "you might wanna sit down for this bit."

Cassandra -- her name is Cassandra! --gives him a questioning look, but sits down at her table anyway. "I'm seated, Princey," she says, nearly sounding reassuring. "What terrible news do you have to deliver? You look like you're gonna tell me the world is ending, for fuck's sake."

Luka looks at Fox pleadingly, but his partner only shrugs. Both of them know that this is Luka's responsibility, even if Ari would be the best at it. She is the one who found the prophecy, after all, and Fox has told him word for word what she said to them that day they first met.

Their exchange isn't subtle, though, and Cassandra's jaw drops. "You're kidding me," she says, her voice perfectly even. "The world isn't actually ending, right?"

"No!" Luka says, and this time, he does shout. "No, no, nothing like that. It's just-" He hesitates, trying to find the right words. Knows that there aren't any right words, not when it comes to prophecies and royalty and the like.

It's better to be straightforward, right? Luka thinks to himself, and then takes a deep breath. That's what Dahlia always says.

"How do you feel about prophecies?"

You are a poor girl selling flowers. Today is your birthday but no one knows. When you return home you find the prince of the kingdom waiting for you with a birthday cake. "Are you sure this is the one?" He whispers to his advisor.

[proxycrit]

I love your au!!! I love how the hylian duo look like gremlins, I LOVE the expressions and sass constantly and the changes to the lore, the worldbuilding and also the emotions (OUCH). I love their relationship with purah and each other and the new champions. I love the depth you gave Yona and her relationship with Sidon and Mipha. I love how link feels comfortable talking to sidon in addition to sign, I don't know if he does that with anyone else but Zelda unless its absolutely necessary (eg: just launched out a cannon and is paragliding down, so hands are busy) (side note: i love how much of an adrenalin junky/gremlin he is!!)

I do got a few questions! Will the pair get the sheikah slate again (so say link has the slate and zelda the pad), and can both slates do the warping and item storage (food, ingredients, armor, weapons, etc) (if so: no WONDER link was so upset! His collection!)

Does link have access to the ultrahand abilities (ik you said not The ultrahand, but what about fuse or ascend or rewind etc?) Where is the mastersword??

Does Link still have the champions' abilities, or did he lose those when their spirits moved on at the end of botw?

I know these are a lot of questions but I can't stop thinking about it!! The last few updates sent me back rereading the whole au and now its just vibrating in my head and giving me no piece

This is long and rambly, just know I am very much enjoying this au! Its silly and fun and touching and cute. Thank you for working on it!!

Oo some notes (also ty for circling my au haha im glad other people fixate like i do)

(Prewarning— i did not finish totk despite putting triple hours in it, so a lot of this story is being written while playing, though i know the big broad strokes thanks to cultural osmosis and video essays. A lot of Familiar Familiar builds from my playthrough with BOTW over TOTK, so the sheikah influence is significantly stronger and I will always choose botw characterization over totk characterization as a result.)

That aside

1. Sheikah slate’s dead. Rest in pieces, link’s rare collectable korok poop. Purah’s extracting as much data as she can to put on the purah pad but you can see the dread in her eyes whenever she has to tell link resurrection is not possible.

2. No idea about the zonai arm powers yet— im thinking about ascend, but the longer i go through this story the less likely ill hand it to him just due to immersion breakage. He and zelda will be getting sheikah gadgets from purah though! Maybe ill have a scene of him wandering through the sky island shrines, but without zelda warning rauru he and sonia wouldnt have prepared anything for the hero of the future. (But i DO love ascension and fuse. Lowkey dislike the building mechanics from a concept art pov because the green glue makes me want to cry, but it’s FINE i GUESS)

2b. Master sword’s chilling in korok forest. Link put it back in this au because of Reasons (part of his and zelda’s characterization in this au is to discard their past roles and embrace the present, not as knight and princess but as hero and researcher. They both have to face the reality those roles aren’t dead, but it’s a work in progress. I may also never address it. This “one off hehe lemme draw some guys” idea quickly spiraled into a web comic series so apologies for the vagueness, because i too am watching them adventure with dread and awe and i don’t know where they’ll go with it. They literally write themselves.

3. Rip champions, their ghosts are Gone (but their influence remains. You go mipha, keep haunting the narrative girl, i love you)

I know that some of these story notes don’t quite match up to what totk states is stone cold canon, but that’s the joy of fan work! Anyways sorry for folks who i have NOT answered asks of— i have a lot of them and I’m much better at the drawing and writing part then the socialization aspect (please feel free to peak in to my zoo enclosure ever so often though. I need the enrichment)

[thatdisasterauthor]

I am not sure where my fascination with disasters came from, but I have had it for a long, long time. So much so that I very specifically remember being in Middle School and writing a short story about a tornado hitting our school and trapping all the students in the gym (but none of the teachers, of course, because what fun would it be if the teachers were around?). My poor teacher didn't quite know what to do with me when she tried to pair everyone up by genre to critique one another's stories, as no one else had written something remotely similar. It didn't matter though, I was hooked. That afternoon I was standing in my garage and thinking about how I wanted to grow up to be an author who wrote disaster stories, and I wanted to write one story about each kind of disaster.

After several years (and two agents) trying to get these books picked up traditionally with no luck, I've decided to just do it myself. And so, the Little Disaster Books collection has been born! When you pick up a Little Disaster Book, here's what you're going to get:

A short read. Each book is around 50,000-70,000 words. That's a bit longer than a novella, and shorter than most novels, because sometimes you just need a quick book, not a door-stopper.

Each book is a standalone. Because, again, sometimes you just need something quick that you don't have to invest in for a decade while you wait for each book to come out.

Lots of queer characters of all sorts. The disaster genre is, unfortunately, pretty notorious for either not having queer characters at all, or killing them off. Little Disaster Books will instead center them and their narratives. But, the stories won't be ABOUT queerness, they'll just have characters that are queer.

No quickie romance. There will be characters in relationships (I'm a sucker for books with couples that are already together at the start), and maybe the first blooms of a potential romance, but nobody is falling head over heels when they should be focused on survival.

No gore for gore's sake. Characters might get hurt, or even die, but these aren't horror books or slasher books or anything in that vein.

A realistic look at disaster. I'm not just obsessed with fictional disasters, I'm obsessed with the real ones too. I have spent a lot of time studying disasters, myths around disasters/disaster response, and the sociology of disasters. With Little Disaster Books I have worked very, very hard to make the books as realistic as possible when it comes to things like civilian responders, everyday heroes, and how disaster response tends to work. At the end of the day they are still fiction, but they're fiction heavily grounded in reality. No "everyone for themselves/we're all animals when the lights go out" nonsense here.

Full endings. There's a bit of a trend in survival thrillers for them to end right at the climax/moment of rescue, or within a few pages of it, even if things haven't been fully wrapped up. Little Disaster Books will all have more rounded endings that delve, at least a little bit, into the aftereffects of what the characters go through, because sometimes the after is the hardest part of all.

The first book in this collection, Lie Down in the Ashes, is launching on Kickstarter on Janaury 15th, 2025! Sign up to be notified on launch here. It is about a group of teens who get caught in the middle of a fast moving wildfire that one of them accidentally starts.

Sign up to be notified on launch here.

[moonlit-imagines]

Took a Bullet

Jason Todd x reader

warnings: GUNS BLOOD WEAPONS INJURY

a/n: AYO ANON I LIED I STILL HAD MORE FROM YOU YAAYYYYY!!! i sowwy it is a little short

prompt: anon 🥀: “I've been in a jason todd mood as of lately (I'm literally so obsessed with him) and wanted to request a jason one-shot where it's a sort of enemies/ rivals-to-lovers type of dynamic where reader is another anti-hero who always ends up beating jason to jobs/ stealing his thunder by taking out whatever baddie he was after before he could do it? And then one time they have to work together to take down a criminal and reader gets severely injured (not fatally) so jason gets all protective. Then jason takes reader back to his safe house and patches them up, scolding them for making such a reckless move, which gets them talking and a confession ensues.”

“Well, what do you want to do?” Red Hood sarcastically asked you after you shot down his last four battle plans for taking out a heavy weapons deal that would be taking place in under two hours.

“Anything that doesn’t guarantee our deaths, Red Hood.” You remarked, slamming your gun on the table. “I need a break from this.” You stood up and headed for the door for a moment of fresh air—Gotham fresh air.

“We don’t get breaks, y/n, this is happening tonight. It’s now or never so get on the same page.” He argued as you slammed the door behind you, rolling your eyes at his arrogance. The sun was setting, you were losing time—and you felt you were better off on your own. But he just wouldn’t leave you alone, had to have a hand in this takedown. Maybe because you were always one step ahead of him, he had to be apart of this one.

Jason worked hard, but you seemed to work harder with the way you handled your jobs. You got information first, you were there first, you did it on your own. He never understood how he was coming in second but he didn’t feel like he was doing enough, so when he caught wind of your operation he had to have a hand in it to make up the difference—only you couldn’t stand the way he did things.

You took a deep breath and walked back inside, seeing Jason scribbling on the board his new plan. “Is this better for you?” He crossed his arms as your eyes darted across a board of people, places, paraphernalia and more.

“Hang on.” You took the marker from him and altered it hastily, just for show because you knew it’d irk him. “This I can do.”

“Thank God.” He grabbed your gun off the table by the muzzle and handed it to you. “Can we go now?”

—————

Things did not go as planned. You insisted it was of no fault of your own but that was up for debate, especially since you chose to dive in front of a bullet to prevent Red Hood from taking a hit. That wasn’t the story you were sticking with, though.

“I wasn’t the one who dropped my knife, Hood!” You argued as he drove the getaway car. He could barely hear your yelling over the overworked engine revving and the barrage of bullets coming your way. You rushed to tie off your wound—a gunshot to your leg—as he sped away. “Can you drive a little less insane so I can fix this?!”

“Working on preventing you from getting shot again, if you hadn’t noticed. And I dropped the knife because you hit me, thank you very much.” He took a hard left turn and another right, trying to lose the pursuit to get you back to his safehouse.

“Yeah, because you wouldn’t shut the hell up about Batman and I was trying to concentrate.” You retorted, wincing in pain at each turn as you braced yourself for the force. “I thought you were a professional who, at the very least, could hold onto his weapon what he gets tapped in the arm. I guess that’s why I’m always a step ahead, huh?” Jason made another rough turn and you groaned in pain. “Come on! We lost them, you can stop with the reckless driving.”

“If you say so,” Jason shrugged, finally starting to drive in the right direction and looking over to you, noticing a second bloodstain on your arm, “did you get shot again?” He asked in disbelief, oddly calm.

“Yep.” You stared ahead and ignored his gaze. “You can go a little faster. I’d like to get this taken care of.” He pressed the gas pedal and arrived back at base, helping you up the stairs due to your first injury. You cursed under your breath the whole time with no end in sight. “Your fault you can’t pay attention, you goddamn…goddamn…can you just, ugh, do something?”

“Yeah, I’m trying to get you to the gurney so I can fix the mistake you made.” He sassed back.

“You were going to take this one to the chest, so I’d be thanking me if I were you.” You argued back as you were laid on the gurney within your base.

“I wear kevlar, thank you very much.” Jason replied, rummaging through first aid.

“Not on your shoulders. Would have gone straight through and probably hit your heart.” You poked him as hard as you could on his shoulder with your good arm—you know, the one without the bullet hole. Jason scoffed and cut your pantleg off without asking. You groaned at the pressure and decided to quit complaining since he had the tweezers in hand. “No, the bullet went through in my leg. Not my arm, though.” He nodded and instead went for the needle to stitch your thigh.

“That hurt?” He asked.

“Yeah, it hurts. Are you kidding?” You snapped and he shook his head, finishing the first set of stitches and moving to the back of your leg. A more sensitive spot, you tried to hide the twitches and winces of pain from him. And finally, he got to your arm, where he’d had to reach in to get the bullet.

“Just squeeze my shoulder, it’ll only hurt a little.” He fixed his mask settings to seek the bullet and slowly went in with a long pair of tweezers, the pain was worse with the bullet coming out than going in. You grabbed his arm so hard you could have punctured it with your bare hands, regretting your decision to save his ass as you cursed about a dozen more times. “You know, taking that bullet was a terrible idea.”

“You’re alive, aren’t you?” You huffed, growing more agitated as the needle entered your skin again. “Why can’t you be more grateful?”

“Because you could have died.” He took his mask off and looked you in the eyes. “And I couldn’t have lived with that.”

“And you think I could have? If you died, I’d have felt the same way.” You explained to him, tears welling just barely enough to notice. “Maybe you’re just upset you’re not the knight in shining armor.” You sarcastically teased.

“Maybe.” He answered as he cleaned the excess blood from your skin. Your eyes widened.

“What?” You simply replied.

“Maybe I’m upset I couldn’t save you.” He said, grabbing the gauze and gently wrapping the affected areas.

“You’re patching me up, so I think we’re even.” He looked up at you and shook his head. “What are you getting at, Jason?”

“You know what I’m getting at.” He said and you gently reached for his face, hand holding his chin. “Are you that surprised?”

“That your jealous, whiny ass is really just hopelessly in love with me?” You raised an eyebrow in mockery. “I might have gotten the hint somewhere down the line.”

“Doubt it.” Jason retorted.

“Yeah, why don’t you finish fixing me up first?”

taglist: @captainshazamerica // @cipheress-to-k-pop // @the-did-i-ask // @azazel-nyx // @summersimmerus // @deanzboyfriend // @zoeyserpentluck // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //

[captain-kit-adventuress]

I haven't read any cozy fantasy, to be fair, but because these posts are mostly talking about the fundamentals of good writing while the fundamentals of cozy fantasy are taking more of a backseat, I feel comfortable throwing in my pov. I agree with all of the above, but I think we should probably add on discussion of why tension works even when stakes are low.

Given all of the GBBO mentions, let's liken writing a story to baking. So what differentiates a cake from bread from a biscuit from [insert thing here]? Mostly ratios. Cakes and breads and biscuits are all made with the same fundamental ingredients, for the most part, but the ratios of each differ greatly between them, as do some of the techniques used. A more traditional fantasy is mostly plot-driven. That's one ingredient. Of course, you still need character and setting and all the rest, but because a traditional fantasy tends to use a big window into its world, you'll need lots of plot and worldbuilding in the mix. There is The Quest or The Prophecy or The Villain's Downfall or The Hero's Redemption or whatever, and these kinds of story tropes require a lot of moving parts to get to the end. Character is still important in a plot-driven book because it will enrich whatever that plot is, but the big window you're opening will swallow up the characters if you're not careful to get the other ratios just right.

But a cozy fantasy isn't like that. The window is much smaller, and so the ratio of ingredients necessarily has to change. Tension vs stakes is a great way to think about that ingredient mix, but when you're shifting your main base, you also have to shift the ratios of the other ingredients or it's going to turn out wonky. With a smaller window generally comes a smaller (though no less important) story. We don't see as much of the world in a cozy setting, so focusing too much on worldbuilding might crowd out the other elements in the story and overpower them. What tends to fit well in a smaller window is character. But if you want to create tension instead of stakes--and it is incredibly important to know the difference between the two, as the above post illustrates well--you can't rely on plot so much. Tension is all about character.

The reason tension works in GBBO is not just because the characters care about the outcome, it's that we bond with them and care about it also. We want it to go well for them. (Or at least, go well for our favourites lol.) So with bland, uninspiring, nothing characters, even introducing tension isn't going to work well if readers have no reason to root for your characters, and wanting to see good in the world just won't cut it. In the case of the fantasy coffee shop idea, why do we care that this coffee shop survives? What makes the character care? What is the thing (or things) that makes the character get out of bed every day to run this shop? It doesn't have to be a big reason, either. It's not like it has to be to honour the memory of their dead mother whose dying wish was to own a shop like this, it needn't be dramatic. But it does have to feel like a real reason this person would be so motivated.

A different cozy genre that does this well is cozy mysteries, and those are all about characters. We always know there's going to be a murder (or at least the appearance of one). So that part of the plot is taken care of. What the author of a cozy mystery must do, then--besides solving the mystery--is tell us why that murder matters. The only question an author needs to answer before writing a cozy mystery after they've answered whodunit is why they did it. And you can only do that through the people that are still alive. The worldbuilding may contribute to it, but the murder doesn't matter except as it relates to the ones who are left in the aftermath.

Something I've noticed in recent years is that some authors are starting to approach independent stories like they do fanfic. To some extent, that's fine because good writing is good writing is good writing. One of the biggest differences between independent stories and fanfiction, however, is that fanfiction doesn't need a reason to exist. You can write that cute scene with no stakes and no tension and people will read it because it's like a deleted scene from the original, and it has all of the canon to support it. The existing canon is the primary reason fanfiction exists.

Independent stories are not like that. They must have a reason to exist outside of "this is cute and I like it." We readers don't have access to the world in your head in any other way than through the published material, and it's an author's responsibility when writing independent stories to give us that access. You have to show us why we should care, and if you're spending too much time worldbuilding and plotting and dialoguing and not enough time making us care about the people in the story, we're not going to be any wiser at the end, and tension vs stakes vs anything else isn't going to matter.

Cozy Fantasy and Why It Doesn't Work

I think I am among many who feel like they should love cozy fantasy and have found it an incredibly lacking genre.

This newly branded "cozy fantasy" genre that has taken readers by storm since 2020 and while it is new that books are now marketed as cozy, the genre itself isn't new. Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones is a great example of the genre before it was labeled and also how to make it work.

Cozy fantasy is defined by many as fantasy with low stakes. Fantasy aesthetic but less sword fights. On paper, it sounds great. But the execution has been less than stellar for readers like me. The lack of physical stakes has also impacted the emotional stakes of these books, creating forgettable characters with boring problems. As a romance reader, I find this frustrating. Romance is known for being a predictable and formulaic genre, the now defunct Romance Writers of America defined romances as needing happy endings, a term romances have continued to follow. Yet these romance texts manage to have low physical stakes (how to date your neighbor, how to confront your toxic friends, etc) while still maintaining high personal stakes that keep readers invested and begging for more. So I was initially confused why cozy fantasy authors struggle to write texts that connect to readers like me.

I think I have found the answer which is the genre is just here for vibes. It is all about aesthetic, not even worldbuilding that fantasy is known for as most cozy fantasy I read have so many problems as soon as you ask one question. It is hard to acknowledge that a genre that is pitched to work for readers like me doesn't work for many of us. Especially because occasionally there is one that works beautifully to my taste.

I often say my favorite cozy fantasies that are more contemporary are short and visual, which I plays into the idea of the genre being an aesthetic. The Bakery Dragon by Devin Elle Kurtz is a good example because it is a simple story that is given the perfect amount of pages and gorgeous visuals without dragging on when the message is very clear and easy to understand. Books like The Phoenix Keeper and Legends and Lattes have absolutely nothing for me, their very clear message hitting the reader over and over so the readers don't miss it and focusing on the aesthetic of worldbuilding rather than the reality of the fantastic elements within the world.

I guess my point is. . . I realize this genre isn't for me since I have realized it is more of an aesthetic than anything. .. .but I want it to be. Should I let it go and put my efforts elsewhere? Or should I keep exploring this new trend and find the hidden gems?

[itendtothinkalot]

beomgyu!spiderman au (part 2)

summary: just a few scenarios of how it would be like having beomgyu!spiderman as ur bf

genre: fluff

characters: beomgyu!spiderman x f!reader

words: 3.5

a/n: i wasn't done

warnings: danger! knives! guns!

part 1!

Your boyfriend was Spider-Man. The Spider-Man. The one who kept your little town safe, who swung through the streets like a silent guardian, leaving behind ripples of hope. The one who, despite the weight of a city on his shoulders, always stopped to lend a hand to anyone who needed it.

Just the other day, your grandma couldn’t stop talking about him.

“Oh, what a fine young man,” she said, eyes sparkling as she recounted the story for the third time. “He helped me cross the road and even carried my groceries all the way home!”

You had laughed softly then, a knowing kind of laugh. Because you knew the truth. You knew he wasn’t just helping some random sweet old lady—he had helped her because she was your grandma.

But the thought lingered longer than you expected. There was something deeply personal about knowing that Spider-Man, the hero everyone adored, was yours. That he went out of his way for the people you loved. That even in the midst of saving the world—or at least this small corner of it—he still remembered the little things.

It warmed your heart, but it ached too. How could one person carry so much? The city adored Spider-Man, but they didn’t know him like you did. They didn’t see the bruises he came home with or the weight he carried in the slump of his shoulders when no one was watching. They didn’t hear the way his voice cracked when he confessed how hard it was to keep everyone safe—how much he wished he could do more.

“You’re doing fine,” you murmured against Beomgyu’s neck, your voice low, trying to be supportive.. “You have to stop thinking that you owe the world everything. You don’t, Gyu. You really don’t.” Your arms tightened around him slightly, hoping that this small gesture, this closeness, could carry what words couldn’t.

For a moment, he didn’t respond. His breathing was steady, but you could feel the tension in his shoulders, the way his body held itself too tightly, like a coiled spring. Finally, his voice broke the silence, barely above a whisper.

“I almost got Soobin hurt the other day.”

You froze, pulling back just enough to look at him. “What?”

He wasn’t meeting your eyes. Instead, his gaze was fixed on the wall behind you, as though staring into some memory he couldn’t shake. “Someone was following me. I–I didn’t even know. I don’t know how I didn’t know, but I didn’t—”

“Don’t you have those tingles? Like, when something bad’s about to happen?” Your voice rose slightly, more out of disbelief than anger. “What’s it called again?”

“Spidey senses,” he said quietly, almost like he was embarrassed to admit it.

“Right.”

He nodded, exhaling shakily. “Which is why this freaked me out so much. They followed me. Back to school.”

You felt your stomach drop. “Our school?”

He sighed, his hand coming up to drag down his face. “It was the day of the test. I guess my anxiety just… I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t even realize they’d been trailing me until it was too late. And then…” His voice cracked, and for a moment, you thought he might stop altogether.

“And then what, Gyu?” you pressed, your own heart racing now.

“Soobin,” he said, his voice trembling. “He was there. He was just…waving down to me, you know? Trying to make sure no one else saw me. But they did see him. They saw him.”

Your breath hitched as you imagined the scene. Soobin, his usual warm and carefree self, unknowingly stepping into danger just by being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“God, Gyu…” You reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly. He finally looked at you then, his dark eyes full of guilt, fear, and something raw you couldn’t quite name.

“I can’t let that happen again,” he said firmly, though his voice wavered. “I can’t let someone I care about get hurt because of me. Because of this.”

You shook your head, your grip on his hand tightening. “No one got hurt. Soobin’s fine. You’re fine. But, Gyu, you can’t keep carrying this on your own. You don’t have to. Please…”

He didn’t respond, but the way his hand clung to yours told you everything. For now, it would have to be enough. But in the back of your mind, you knew this wasn’t over—not for him, not for either of you.

—

Beomgyu, the neighborhood’s ever-friendly superhero, had always been the happy-go-lucky guy at school—the one who cracked jokes even during exams and smiled at everyone in the halls. But lately, everything felt heavier. The shadows felt closer, and the weight of his secret life seemed to press down on him more than ever. No one really noticed the change, not at school, not in the streets where he swung between buildings. But he felt it.

Lost in thought, replaying every close call, every mistake, Beomgyu didn’t even notice the bird heading straight for him until—

“AUUUGH!”

The collision sent him tumbling through the air, momentum completely lost. He flailed helplessly before crashing down five levels and landing, with an undignified thud, in a dumpster.

“Dang,” he groaned, clutching his ribs as he tried to sit up. The stench was an assault on his senses, but at least the garbage had cushioned his fall. Small blessings, right?

He barely had a second to regain his bearings before he froze, realizing he wasn’t alone. Two figures loomed over him, their faces obscured by ski masks. Guns peeked out from behind their backs.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” one of them muttered, staring down at the very superhero who had been tailing them for weeks.

Beomgyu blinked up at them, then sighed. “What a night,” he muttered before pulling on a smirk under his mask. “Well, well, well. What do we have here? Are we heading to some kind of costume party, fellas? I wasn’t invited—kind of hurtful, honestly.”

The guy on the left swore under his breath, visibly rattled as he yanked a gun from behind his back and aimed it at Beomgyu.

“Ooh, wrong move there, buddy.” Beomgyu didn’t even flinch. A second later, a sharp thwip echoed through the alley as his web shooter activated, yanking the gun from the man’s grip and sending it clattering to the ground. In a single, fluid motion, Beomgyu swung up and ensnared the guy in a sticky cocoon of webbing.

“C’mon,” he teased, landing lightly on the ground. “We could’ve gone to the party together. I’ve got a killer mask, and I hear ski masks are making a comeback.”

“He’s fucking with us,” the second guy growled, pulling his gun and advancing.

Beomgyu tilted his head. “I mean, yeah. What’s the point of doing this gig if I can’t have a little fun?”

The second guy lunged, but Beomgyu was faster. Another flick of his wrist sent a web shooting out, pinning the man’s arm to the nearest wall. He struggled, growling like a trapped animal, but it was no use.

“Pro tip,” Beomgyu said, perching casually on a nearby railing. “If you’re going to pull off some shady back-alley operation, maybe avoid the guy who just fell out of the sky. Statistically, probably not your night.”

Both men glared daggers at him, though their predicament made it more comical than intimidating.

“Anyway,” Beomgyu continued, hopping down and dusting himself off, “I’d love to stay and chat, but I have homework to procrastinate on, so…” He shot another web, this time connecting the two robbers together like a makeshift package. “Consider this a group bonding exercise. Teamwork makes the dream work, right?”

As the distant sound of police sirens began to echo through the alley, Beomgyu gave them a mock salute before swinging away, muttering to himself.

“God, I need to start watching out for birds.”

—

Your head rested heavily on the table in your room, the soft glow of your desk lamp doing little to soothe the mounting frustration. The math homework in front of you blurred together into incomprehensible scribbles. You groaned aloud. Where was your genius boyfriend when you needed him? He’d promised to help with at least half of these impossible questions.

A sharp knock on your apartment window jolted you upright, a scream escaping your lips. It wasn’t a small sound either—it was the full-on, “I’m being murdered” kind of scream. To be fair, you lived on the 14th floor, and unexpected visitors weren’t exactly common.

When you turned, your heart still racing, there he was. Red and blue spandex clinging to him like a second skin, mask slightly crooked, and an unapologetic grin plastered beneath it. You sighed, pressing a hand to your chest.

“Geez, Gyu,” you said, walking over to unlock the window. “You need to start giving me some warning. I could’ve died from a heart attack.”

He slipped inside with practiced ease, his suit slightly scuffed but still intact. “Sorry,” he chuckled, stretching his arms above his head. “I’ll work on my window etiquette.”

As he adjusted his gloves, you couldn’t help but smirk. “Y’know…” you began, leaning against your desk and giving him an exaggerated once-over, “I kinda get why girls like this whole superhero thing.”

“Oh?” he teased, pulling off one glove and flexing his fingers. “And why’s that?”

“Well, you can kinda see everything,” you said with a wicked grin, poking at the firm outline of his abs. “Like, literally everything.”

Beomgyu groaned, swatting your hand away. “Great. I gotta talk to Mr. Kang about some suit upgrades. Hopefully, that includes censorship.”

“Even from me?” you teased.

“Especially from you,” he quipped before leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips. His lips lingered for a moment longer than usual, his way of apologizing for being late.

“Sorry,” he said softly, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. “I kinda swung into a bird, fell into a dumpster, and got two guys arrested. You know, just another Tuesday.”

“What?” you asked, wide-eyed and incredulous. “You swung into a bird?”

“It’s a long story,” he laughed, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Anyway, which page are you on?”

“Uh…” you trailed off, a bit sheepishly. “Still the second page.”

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow. “Second? You’ve been at this for hours.”

You shrugged, your cheeks warming. “Math isn’t exactly my strong suit. It’s yours.”

“Alright, alright.” He grinned, pulling out the chair beside you and plopping down with an exaggerated groan. “Let’s see what we’re working with.”

As he adjusted himself to get comfortable, Beomgyu tugged at his mask, lifting it ever so slowly. Your eyes were glued to him, watching as the fabric revealed his face inch by inch. His messy, shaggy hair flopped into his eyes, the slight sheen of sweat only making him look more effortlessly perfect.

You hated to admit it, but every time Beomgyu pulled off that mask, something inside you… shifted. Maybe it was the way his sharp features softened when he smiled at you. Or the way his hair always seemed to look even better messy. Whatever it was, it made your heart do cartwheels.

He caught you staring, of course, his lips quirking into a knowing smile. “What?” he asked, leaning in closer.

“Nothing,” you lied, quickly turning back to your textbook. “Just… hurry up and help me before I fail this assignment.”

“Sure, sure.” Beomgyu chuckled, resting his chin on his hand as he looked at you. “But you’re staring at me like I’m the homework you’re trying to solve.”

You flushed, shoving him lightly. “Shut up and teach me algebra, Spider-Boy.”

—

It had barely been ten minutes since school started, but the routine was already in full swing. You and Soobin had a well-rehearsed system for dealing with Beomgyu's inevitable late arrivals, thanks to his extracurricular Spider-Man responsibilities.

You called yourselves Team Spider-Man. It wasn’t a title you chose willingly, but you had to admit it had a nice ring to it. Unfortunately, being the newest member came with its fair share of grievances—like finding out Soobin had been in on the secret way before you.

“So, let me get this straight. This idiot knew before me?” you had demanded, months ago, glaring at both of them like they were the absolute bane of your existence.

“Well, I was at home waiting for him, and… my aunt let him in,” Beomgyu had explained with a wince. “I climbed on the ceiling, and he saw me. What was I supposed to do, pretend I wasn’t there?”

Needless to say, you weren’t over it.

Now, as you sat in class with Soobin, the two of you brainstorming yet another excuse for Beomgyu’s tardiness, the absurdity of the situation almost made you laugh. Almost.

“So,” Soobin began, tapping his pencil against his desk, “diarrhoea excuse? We haven’t used that one in a while.”

You shot him a look. “Seriously? He’s my boyfriend now, Soobin. My reputation is kind of on the line here too, you know.”

“Oh, please,” Soobin snorted. “As if anything could tarnish his already perfect reputation.”

You hated to admit it, but he had a point. Beomgyu wasn’t just well-liked—he was practically a school legend. Teachers adored him. Students gravitated toward him. Even the custodian always waved at him with a fond smile. It was infuriating. (You just didn’t want to admit that you had to share him with well, everyone else.)

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed movement outside the classroom window. There he was, crouched behind a tree in his unmistakable red and blue suit, though the white gym shirt thrown on top of it was… new.

Your phone buzzed.

Beomgyu: Friday, send message. You: What? Beomgyu: Don’t send message. Send message. Beomgyu: DAMN IT FRIDAY. Beomgyu: I mean send message—I forgot pants. I have no pants. Send message.

You stared at the screen, barely holding back a laugh.

You: You don’t have an extra pair of pants?

Soobin: Well, this does tie in nicely with the diarrhoea excuse.

You snorted. “You’re unbelievable.”

Beomgyu: Wait, wait, wait! Are you saying the teachers think I’ve had diarrhoea this whole time? Is that why Mrs. Lee asked if I was okay two nights ago at the store?

Soobin: That’s why Mrs. Lee probably bought you a whole bottle of Pedialyte. You: Just stay put. I’ll grab you some pants. Beomgyu: You’re the best. Also, don’t let Soobin talk to the teachers anymore.

You sighed, glancing at Soobin, who was now snickering into his notebook. Sometimes, being part of Team Spider-Man felt more like babysitting a group of overgrown toddlers.

—

The three of you were crammed into the corner booth of the diner you occasionally visited, the one with sticky menus and the best milkshakes in town. The warm hum of conversation and clatter of dishes filled the air, but none of it distracted you from Soobin’s next words.

“Hey,” Soobin started, far too casually, as he leaned back in his seat. “Isn’t that the guy you said was cute?” He gestured—not subtly—toward the waiter, the one you had offhandedly mentioned finding attractive months ago, long before Beomgyu was even a consideration in your love life.

Your heart dropped. “What?” You shot Soobin a warning look, kicking him lightly under the table. “No. Absolutely not.”

“No, you definitely did!” Soobin grinned, ignoring the daggers you were shooting at him. “I remember it clearly because he was carrying that JJK keychain on his–”

“Choi Soobin.” Your voice was low, a deadly whisper, as you glared at him, teeth gritted.

Beomgyu, who had been happily sipping his milkshake until that very moment, set it down with deliberate slowness. His lips twitched, the kind of expression that meant trouble. He leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, poking his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “So…” he drawled, voice teasing but edged with curiosity. “The waiter, huh?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “This was before we started dating!” You said defensively, looking up at Beomgyu with wide eyes. “Way before. Ancient history. Irrelevant.”

Beomgyu tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “And where was I during all this?”

“How would I know?!” You threw your hands up.

Soobin, who was clearly having the time of his life, leaned in conspiratorially, voice just low enough to sound like he was helping. “It was the day you were over at Mr. Kang’s office.”

Beomgyu’s brows shot up in mock realization, and you immediately regretted ever confiding in Soobin about anything.

“Mr. Kang’s office, huh?” Beomgyu repeated, turning his gaze back to you. “So while I was working on tech to save the city, you were out here scouting waiters?”

“Oh my god.” You buried your face in your hands again, your cheeks burning. “It wasn’t like that!”

Beomgyu smirked, reaching over to flick a fry at Soobin, who was now laughing so hard he nearly fell out of the booth. “Remind me to block this guy’s number,” Beomgyu teased.

“You’re insufferable,” you mumbled, hiding your face behind the menu.

“Hey, if it makes you feel better,” Beomgyu said, leaning closer, his voice dropping low just for you, “I’m cuter.”

You peeked out from behind the menu, your lips twitching despite your best efforts to stay annoyed. “Debatable.”

—

Beomgyu was excited. It had been days—no, weeks—since he’d had time alone with you. Between school and his Spider-Man duties, quality time with you had become rare. Especially since Soobin was usually a third wheel, even on your study dates.

He swung through the city, doing a final sweep before heading to your house. “Well, isn’t Seoul just so safe today, all thanks to me,” he muttered to himself, breaking into a little moonwalk mid-swing.

But he spoke too soon.

A chilling scream echoed in his ears.

A scream too close to home.

A scream from near your apartment.

“BEOM–GYUAAA!”

His blood ran cold.

Without wasting another second, he swung towards the sound, heart pounding in his chest. As he neared, the scene came into view—you, clutching your bag, screaming as you struggled against a thief.

His heart dropped.

He never expected to see you in harm’s way. A wave of guilt and terror swept over him, gnawing at his insides. He felt terrible.

Beomgyu's heart raced as he swung toward the sound of your voice. The scream—your scream—kept echoing in his head, shaking him to his core. He'd handled countless situations like this before, but this was different. This was you.

The thief yanked at your bag, his grip tightening as you refused to let go. Beomgyu could see the fear in your eyes, even from a distance, and his blood boiled. But fear wasn’t an option now. He had to act quickly—and smartly.

Clinging to the side of the building just above the alleyway, Beomgyu scanned the situation. The thief was armed, a glinting knife in his free hand. Too close for comfort. One wrong move and—no, don’t think about that, he told himself.

“Hey, buddy,” Beomgyu called out, voice steady but sharp, “how about you pick on someone your own size?”

The thief froze, glancing around wildly until he spotted Beomgyu perched above him. “What the–”

Before the thief could finish, Beomgyu leapt down, landing behind him. His sudden appearance startled the man enough to loosen his grip on your bag. You took the chance to stumble back, clutching it tightly to your chest.

“Stay back,” Beomgyu said, his voice low and commanding as he positioned himself between you and the thief. “Unless you wanna find out how this web feels up your ass.”

The thief lunged with the knife, but Beomgyu was faster. With a flick of his wrist, a web shot out, sticking the knife to the wall. The thief panicked, trying to run, but Beomgyu had already shot another web, trapping him against a lamppost.

“Okay, now you just hang tight, buddy” Beomgyu said, brushing his hands off dramatically. “Police will be here any minute. And by the way, knives? Seriously?”

With the danger neutralized, Beomgyu turned to you, his voice laced with worry, even through the mask. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

You shook your head, though your hands trembled, and tears pooled in your eyes as the adrenaline coursing through your body began to subside. “I-I’m fine,” you stammered, voice barely above a whisper.

Beomgyu hesitated for a moment, his shoulders visibly relaxing now that he knew you were unharmed. He stepped closer, his gloved hands coming to rest gently on your shoulders. “You’re safe now,” he said softly, his usual playful tone replaced by something tender. He leaned in slightly, his forehead almost brushing yours.

You sniffled, a faint smile breaking through the tears as you raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure…you’re gonna kiss me in public, Mr. Spider-Man?”

Beomgyu froze, his masked face tilting in realization. “Oh. Right.” He quickly straightened up, clearing his throat. “You’re safe, citizen! You may now go home!” he announced dramatically, his hands moving to his hips in mock superhero fashion.

“Thank you, Mr. Spider-Man,” you replied, unable to hold back your laughter, though your voice still wavered with lingering emotion.

Beomgyu winked—or at least you thought he did—before muttering under his breath as he turned to leave, “You're not gonna let this go, aren't you?

You shook your head.

-

part 1!

[accio-victuuri]

xiao zhan - kai xiao zao’s director (Xi Lou) Weibo update : letter to xz to celebrate 6 years of cooperation

"Six Years" To the late-maturing of "Us”

One year, two years, three years, four years, five cold and hot seasons, six springs and autumns; how beautiful is Chinese, there are so many interesting quantifiers to describe 365 days, time is like sand between fingers, no matter how tightly you hold it, it still slips silently from the gaps, piling up into the tall or low sand dunes full of stories on the long river of life, and the wind blows, and the past is flying.

2024 is a year of precipitation. "WM", which has been prepared for a long time, finally meets everyone. We met "WM", and the old friend showed his versatility as a singer. I still remember the first day the album was launched, a friend of mine on QQ com said to me: I haven't seen such a lineup for a long time. Looking at his appearance that had never seen the "world", I calmly said: "Nothing else, just use your heart", turned around and left, hiding my merits and fame. Thinking of the Excel spreadsheet five years ago, we were also new to the world. Actually, I want to say that I know what "WM" has experienced. Its success is not accidental, but the result of the gentleness of spring breeze and rain, and it is inevitable that it has accumulated over the years.

The birthday in 2024 was spent in the crew, which is not unusual. After all, most of the year, greetings were basically in the crew every time, but no matter how busy you are, you have to have a sense of ceremony. Xiao Zao specially customized a birthday cake and sent it to the crew. Then a friend in the studio sent me a picture of many cakes and picked Xiao Zao. Sure enough, the one who understands XZ's heart the most is XZ. After receiving the picture, I praised Xiao Zao because I know that it is easy to work hard for one year on the same thing, but it is difficult to work hard for six years.

I just got back from a business trip. It is now 22:42 on January 4th. I am sitting in my study table. As I write this, the phonograph album happened to play "Confessions of a Night Person". There is a sentence in Mo Yan's "Late Bloomers": "People with good natures mature late, and are forced to mature by bad people. Although they become wise later, they are still kind and sincere." I sometimes wonder why we can walk hand in hand for six years. Are we all a group of late bloomers? "When others are smart, we are stupid and dull; when others weigh the pros and cons, we are sincere; when others have exhausted their scheming and gradually fallen into a state of decline, we just happen to be wise." We are all a group of simple people, which may be the ultimate reason why fate can continue. If there is a chance, I will sing "Confessions of a Night Person" for everyone. This is my favorite.

Some friends told me in private that the 2024 Xiao Zao is a bit dull. In fact, I want to say that compared with the short-term and vigorous forgetfulness, I prefer the long-term mutual support. Companionship is the longest confession. This affection beyond commercial endorsement is worth cherishing forever.

Do you still remember the "Legend of the Condor Heroes" mentioned in "Five Years"? This one-year agreement will finally be fulfilled in 23 days. Xiao Zao invites everyone to watch the movie together in 9 major cities across the country, feel the swordsmanship, and regain childhood dreams together. Oh, by the way, the hero Guo Jing should also be a late bloomer.

We still need to give the "old couple" some sense of ceremony. Today, let's roll up our sleeves, tie up our hair, open our hearts, learn from the hero, and cook with him as wine.

As usual, toast a bowl:

Cheers to simplicity

Cheers to peace and safety

Cheers to health

Cheers to eating well

May the flowers be the same year after year, and the people be the same year after year!

Sixth year, please give me more advice.

[blueskittlesart]

One of my favourite era of the wild headcanons is that when Link pulled the master sword, he saw flashes of all his previous lives (if you take the era of the wild taking place much later in the timeline at face value lol). Not enough to inherit their memories, mind you, just enough that he was cognizant of his role in the world and that significantly changed his personality from bubbly kid to stoic soldier. Did you have any thoughts on this? I love your botw takes :)

boy do i have a comic for you

ok truthfully i have mixed feelings about this. that comic was an au where the major change is that link is specifically aware of the cycle from a young age, which is the inciting event for alterations to the story. i think that link doesn't necessarily NEED to be aware of the cycle for his actions to make sense. the intense pressure is already there no matter what. his position as the one single soldier who has the power to seal calamity ganon means that his entire life will, no matter what, culminate in him either dying or becoming an untouchable, mythical hero. that alone is, imo, enough to make any kid freak out a little bit. And from a writing standpoint, a lot of the conflict in botw exists specifically due to a LACK of knowledge about what the prophecy and calamity actually are and why the motions they're going through exist in the first place, so i think it's actually kind of out of place in the rest of the story to make link the only exception to this. in canon, his own shortcomings in this regard are a source of anxiety for him, too--he can't hear the voice of the sword, he doesn't have any idea what to expect when the calamity strikes, etc etc. in rare moments of leisure he immediately pulls out that sword and starts swinging it around, because what else can he do but train harder? He has no idea what to expect, so he has to be strong enough to face anything. TLDR i don't think he knew any more than anyone else--if he did, he might have had some idea of how to effectively stop the calamity the first time around.

[kikyoupdates]

Bloodthirst ⭑˚💋⭑ 𝑎 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑚 ℎ𝑜𝑚𝑒

bnha x vampire!reader

reverse harem, my hero academia x fem!reader, my vampire!reader, slowburn

As punishment for your sins, you, a young vampire, are banished — not just from your home, but to a different world entirely. Now, you find yourself in a foreign place where Quirks and heroes are the norm. In addition to coming to terms with your new life, you must also face your greatest challenge: controlling your massive thirst for blood.

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“Only a bit more. My house is that one, just up ahead.”  

Izuku smiled awkwardly, eventually stopping in front of the house he’d been pointing to. So, this was where he lived. And for the time being, it was also going to be where you lived.

It was certainly much smaller than you were used to, that was for sure. Then again, you’d grown up in a literal castle, which wasn’t the norm. And it wasn’t like you could afford to be picky. Izuku had already saved your life once and even offered you refuge. The debt you owed him was nothing short of massive. 

You walked up to the front door, but Izuku hastily pulled you back by the arm. “W-Wait!” he spluttered. “I just, um... I-I need a few moments. To prepare myself...”  

“For what?” you asked, giving him a quizzical look.  

“Well...” He glanced around, looking everywhere but in your eyes. “I’ve never had a g-girl over before. It’s just me and my mom, so I’m sure she might have some questions. Actually, I don’t bring anyone over, not just girls. I don’t really have any friends...”  

Your jaw dropped open. How could that possibly be? He was the sweetest person you’d ever met. There was no way someone wouldn’t want to be his friend.

“Are you joking?” you frowned.  

Izuku shrunk in on himself. “I-I really wish I was.”  

“Gosh!” you fumed, squaring your hands on your hips. “What’s the matter with this world? You deserve tens of friends—no, hundreds of them! Clearly, the people who’ve met you must be a bunch of idiots.”

“T-There’s no need to go that far,” he protested. “It’s probably because I’m so plain and boring. I don’t blame them for not wanting to talk to me. The only thing I can really work up the nerve to bring is up heroes, and then I start rambling, and everyone gets annoyed because I won’t shut up...”  

“Stupid idiots. They’re not even giving you a chance.”

Izuku let out a nervous chuckle, then cleared his throat. “Well... that’s beside the point. Anyways, I guess we can’t stall for much longer. Are you ready? D-Don't be nervous. My mom is really nice to everyone, and you’re nice too, so I’m sure you’ll get along.” 

“Okay!” you beamed. “I’m ready.”  

After a brief pause, Izuku used his key to unlock the door, then opened it up. “Come in,” he said shyly, stepping aside to give you room.  

You glanced around. It was a cute, homely place. Again, very much different from what you were used to, but it wasn’t stuffy like the castle you’d grown up in. Even though you were nothing more than a stranger here, somehow, it felt comfortable. Warm.  

“Your home is beautiful,” you smiled.  

Izuku blushed. “M-My mom does her best to keep things looking nice. Actually, I should help out with the chores more often. I feel bad that she does so much of the work herself.”  

Speaking of, you could hear some movement coming from further inside. There was also a fragrant aroma wafting through the air. It smelled like someone was cooking.  

“Izuku?” came the gentle, feminine voice. “Are you home?”  

Hardly five seconds later, a kind-looking woman turned the corner and greeted you in the hallway. She was pretty much a carbon copy of Izuku, with her big green eyes and dark green hair, which was pulled into a half-up style. Her smile was friendly too, just like Izuku’s. The only thing she was missing was the sprinkling of freckles that dusted the boy’s cheeks.  

You could tell that Izuku hadn’t been lying to you. She certainly gave off the impression of being gentle and welcoming, and this was just from looking at her. She smelled sweet as well, just like Izuku did. At first, she was smiling, probably eager to greet her son, but that smile faded a bit when her gaze fell onto you.  

And then her eyes widened.  

“W-Who is this?” she blinked repeatedly. 

Izuku parted his lips to answer, but you were quicker on the uptake. “I’m [Name], Izuku’s friend!” you grinned. “It’s very nice to meet you!”

“Oh my!” Her eyes somehow went even wider, and then her smile was back, much brighter than before. “It’s been so long since you’ve had a friend over, Izuku! The last time must have been back when you and Katsuki were still kids!”  

“Mom, please,” Izuku groaned.

“Sorry, sorry! I’m Midoriya Inko,” she introduced, even bowing a bit. “It’s lovely to have you here, [Name]. I’m just making some food right now. It should be ready soon if you’d like to have some. Is there anything else I can get you in the meantime?”  

“She’s fine, mom,” Izuku sighed. He was red as a beet again. You’d quickly come to the conclusion that it wasn’t very difficult to make him blush, which you found awfully endearing.  

Inko kept on smiling happily. “Okay! Then, I’ll leave you two be.”  

That was what she said, but right before she turned to head back to the kitchen, her gaze shifted slightly, and she finally seemed to take note of the injury on your shoulder.  

“[N-Name]!” she gasped, rushing towards you right away. “You’re hurt! Oh no... how long ago did this happen? Izuku! Help me get out the first aid, quick!”  

Oh. Right.  

To be honest, you’d totally forgotten about that. After drinking Izuku’s blood, all of your strength had returned. You could hardly even feel the gash you’d acquired earlier. It was probably already healing up, anyways.  

“This is no big deal,” you reassured, smiling for good measure. “I fell a little while ago and got kind of scraped up. It looks worse than it is, I promise.” 

“Still! You need to clean the wound and bandage it up so it doesn’t get infected!”  

“That’s okay. I can do it myself. But I appreciate the concern.”  

Clearly, worrying seemed to run in the family. She was just as frantic as Izuku had been when he’d first noticed you were hurt. Thankfully, Izuku stepped in before his mom could work herself up into a full-blown panic attack.  

“I’ll help [Name] treat her injury,” he insisted. “But, um... there was actually something I wanted to ask you, mom. Would it be okay... if she stayed with us for a little while?”  

“Stayed with us?” Inko blinked. “As in...”  

“Like, overnight and stuff. For a few days. Maybe? Please?”  

Inko’s initial excitement was steadily turning to horror. You supposed that as a parent, having your kid suddenly bring over a complete stranger and ask to welcome your home up to them was a lot to take in. 

She leaned closer to Izuku and lowered her voice, although you could still hear her. Your senses were a lot sharper than a human’s, after all. 

“I-Izuku. Is she... your girlfriend or something? I didn’t even know you had one...”  

“Girlfriend?!” Izuku squeaked, looking just about ready to pass out. “N-No! It’s nothing like that! She just needs a place to stay for a little while, so I’d like to do her a favor, that’s all!”  

“My parents kicked me out of the house,” you added—perhaps a bit too chipperly, at that.  

Inko looked even more horrified now. “What?! But... you’re so young! That’s so irresponsible of them! They can’t leave a child all on her own! Police... I need to call the police! This is obvious neglect!”  

Calling the police wouldn’t fix your problems. If anything, it would only cause more of them, especially once they found out that you had no background information whatsoever. Drawing that much suspicion wasn’t something you wanted to deal with.  

“Mom, please don’t do that!” Izuku pleaded. “[Name] has a complicated relationship with her parents. L-Let's just try to be understanding... okay? You’re an adult, so she’ll be fine as long as you’re here to supervise her. Right? She’ll be safe here. Please?” 

Inko was nibbling on her bottom lip. “I suppose everyone has different family dynamics... but still. I can’t help but be worried.” She glanced over at you, brows creasing. “[Name], honey, are you safe? You didn’t get that injury from your parents... did you?” 

She was suspecting abuse, which was fair enough. It was a valid concern.  

“No, this was seriously an accident,” you reassured. “My parents don’t hit me.” You remembered the way your mother had slapped you across the face, but that was done in order to prevent you from quite literally killing someone, so you figured it was an exception.  

“[Name] has a lot going on already,” Izuku said, making puppy eyes and everything. “Her family just needs a bit of time to calm down. I want to help her.”

“Well... alright,” Inko eventually sighed out.  

Hooray! 

“Izuku was right,” you beamed. “You are super nice. Thank you so much for opening up your home to me. I promise to repay you somehow. I can’t even express how appreciative I am.”  

Inko chuckled softly. “I’m more than happy to help. I just want to make sure you’re safe, that’s all. But you seem like an honest, well-spoken girl, and it’s the first time in a long while Izuku has been so close to someone. Just promise you’ll tell me if your parents are crossing the line. Your wellbeing should always come first, okay?”  

Your parents had already more than crossed the line, what with banishing you to a different world altogether, but for now, she was probably better off not knowing that. Perhaps eventually, you’d reveal your secret to her as well. You couldn’t be certain that she’d believe you the way Izuku did, but you were choosing to remain optimistic.  

“Thanks so much, mom.” Izuku smiled, then wrapped his mother in a hug. He pulled away quickly enough, looking back at you sheepishly. “Right... the first aid kit. I’m just going to go help [Name] clean out her cut, alright? We’ll come back later once the food is ready.”  

“Alright, sweetie. You two have fun.” Inko paused once last time to look you over. “But... if you’re going to be staying the night, don’t you have a bag with some belongings and pajamas? It doesn’t look like you’ve brought anything.”  

“My parents kicked me out before I could collect my things,” you replied.  

The poor thing looked she was about to cry. You’d probably stressed her out so much she was on the verge of collapsing.  

“I-I’ll find some old clothes of mine for you to wear, from back when I was younger,” she said tiredly.  

“That sounds great!”

Having officially received approval to stay here for a little while, it felt like a weight had been lifted off your chest. Izuku seemed quite giddy about the fact as well, if his broad smile was any indication. He quickly rummaged through one of the cabinets, pulled out a little box, which you assumed was the first aid kit, then pointed you down the hall.  

“My room’s that way,” he said. “Ah, but—!”  

Too late. You’d entered the room before he had a chance to finish his train of thought, and... it was certainly much more impactful than you’d been expecting. It was completely decked out, with posters and what appeared to be countless figurines as far as the eye could see. The colors were rather vibrant, you noted, and if you weren’t mistaken, almost all of the items had the same theme.  

“Who’s this guy?” you asked, picking up one of the figurines to get a closer look.  

“C-Careful!” Izuku yelped. He was practically pulling at his hair while you held the figurine, and sweating bullets, to boot.  

You carefully set the figurine down and chuckled sheepishly. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have just gone around touching things without asking. It seems like this stuff is important to you. But I keep seeing this same guy everywhere I look. Who is he?”  

“Oh,” Izuku blinked. “Right. You’re not from here, so you wouldn’t know. That’s All Might. He’s the Number One hero, and I’m pretty much his biggest fan. It’s a little embarrassing to say out loud... but he’s kind of my role model. I want to be just like him when I grow up.”  

“He’s one of those heroes you mentioned before?”  

“Yeah! He’s the strongest hero in the whole world!”  

Izuku’s exuberant smile was back. This topic certainly seemed to make him excited, although you supposed the concept of heroes was pretty cool. You didn’t really have anything like that back home. A bunch of different intelligent species, sure, but you’d never once come across someone with that sort of title.  

“So, heroes are people that save others, right?” you clarified.  

“Mhm!” Izuku nodded. “They put their lives on the line to fight off villains or rescue people from natural disasters. They’re just incredible! Since I was little, I always knew I wanted to become one of them, no matter what. But...”  

Suddenly, his expression dropped. 

“It’s going to be harder for me than for most people,” he begrudgingly admitted. “Because I don’t have a Quirk.”  

You frowned. “What’s a Quirk?”  

“They’re like powers,” he explained. “Humans didn’t used to have special powers before, but at some point, a mutation allowed us to change and develop over time. Now that several generations have passed, it’s rarer to not have a Quirk then it is to have one. The reason heroes are so strong and cool is because they have all sorts of different powers. But me... I’m just Quirkless. It makes me weaker than most, so I know it’ll be a challenge if I want to turn my dream into reality.”  

Interesting. The more you found out about this world, the more intrigued you were.  

“The humans here appear to be stronger than the ones in my world,” you hummed. “That explains why that criminal—er, villain I ran into was able to actually hurt me. His nails transformed into knives right in front of my eyes. That must’ve been his power. His Quirk. Right?”

Izuku nodded. “Yeah. There are all kinds of Quirks out there. Some of them allow you to change your body briefly, like how that guy did. Some of them allow you to create things out of nothing or even shoot lasers and stuff. And some of them permanently alter the way you look, and you can’t turn them off even if you want to.”  

Ah. That explains why so many of the people I saw didn’t look like, well...  people . 

“Put simply, they’re amazing,” Izuku chuckled, looking more dejected by the second. “I really wish I had one. It would make everything so much easier...”

“Maybe you’ll get yours one day,” you encouraged. 

“Ah... it doesn’t really work that way. By the age of four, your Quirk has to have manifested, and there are no exceptions. I know this because my mom and I even consulted a doctor back when I was a kid. He told me there was no hope.”  

His head drooped after that last comment, which had your heart clenching uncomfortably. What awful luck. He wanted to be a hero, and you could clearly tell that he was passionate about saving people after everything he’d done for you, but fate had been cruel to him.  

Back where you were from, strength varied quite significantly depending on the species. Vampires were notoriously strong—one of the very strongest, as a matter of fact. Oftentimes, this strength came in handy, since it could be used to settle disputes over land or end wars. Thankfully, you hadn’t lived through any wars in your lifetime, but you’d heard from your grandparents that things used to be quite rough a while back. Strength was a means to an end, and it made countless things easier to obtain.

Unfortunately, this seemed to be the case here as well.  

A bit hesitant, you couldn’t help but ask, “Do you need a Quirk to become a hero?”  

Izuku seemed taken aback by your question. You hoped you hadn’t come across as insensitive. It was just that he was yearning to be a hero so bad, you couldn’t help but wish there was some way that he actually could.  

“Technically... no,” Izuku breathed, a wobbly smile rising to his lips. “And even though I’m sure my case is unusual, I don’t plan on giving up. I’m going to become a hero, no matter what it takes. I’ll work as hard as I have to.”  

You clapped your hands. “Wow! That’s so admirable! You’re super cool, Izuku! That’s right. There’s no reason to give up before you’ve even tried, right?”  

“Y-Yeah. I feel the same way. Thank you for being so supportive.” He blushed a bit, then cleared his throat. “Um... anyways. W-We should clean up your wound now that we have a chance. My mom’s right. It’d be bad if it got infected.”  

“Oh, there’s really no need for that.”  

“We have to! I wouldn’t want you to start feeling unwell again,” he added, looking concerned.  

It was hard to say no to that face.  

“Well... alright,” you shrugged. You didn’t even bother being gracious about it; you grabbed onto the fabric of your dress sleeve and fully ripped it apart, exposing the bloody gash on your shoulder.  

Izuku flinched before opening up the first aid kit. “Yikes. T-That looks like it hurts a lot. How have you been coping with something like that?”  

“Honestly, I can hardly even feel it anymore,” you admitted. “After I drank your blood, I went right back to normal.”  

“But still. Hold on a second. I’m going to wipe the cut down, then maybe disinfect it a bit.”  

He used a bit of water to wet a cloth, then gave you a reassuring smile before carefully patting your injury to soak up the blood. You didn’t wince a single time, because you really didn’t feel any lingering pain. His blood had done a great job of fixing you up.

Izuku’s amazing, in more ways than one. Normally I have to consume a lot more blood to recover as quickly as I did. We might just be especially compatible.  

Clearly, running into him had been no mere stroke of luck. There must have been some higher power guiding you. Fate, or something like that.  

“Huh?”

Amidst your daydreaming, Izuku let out a confused gasp, so you turned towards him with a frown. “What’s wrong?” you asked. “Sorry. It’s probably a bit gross having to clean my wound up. We’re pretty much strangers, after all.”  

“N-No, it’s not that. It’s just...” He swallowed thickly. “I can’t... see a cut. There was all that blood, but it doesn’t look like there’s a cut anywhere to be found.”

“Oh.” 

“That’s all you’re going to say?!”  

You laughed. “Like I said, there was really no need to bother with any of this. I heal quick. Vampires have much stronger constitutions than humans. We’re stronger physically, we have sharper senses, and we heal faster too. Though it looks like I healed up perfectly even faster than I was expecting. It must be because your blood is so amazing, Izuku!”  

“I-Incredible,” was all he could manage to say in return. You supposed from his standpoint, it was pretty awesome. You hated to admit it, but you couldn’t help but feel a bit smug as you proudly stuck up your nose towards the ceiling.  

“Even for a vampire, I’m really strong,” you said boastfully. “I’m the strongest out of my entire family. My parents told me I’m even stronger than they were at my age.” 

Now, if only I could get my blood-drinking habits under control... 

“So cool,” Izuku marveled. “It���s not a Quirk... but if it was, it would definitely be one of the strongest ones out there. [Name], you’re just awesome. It kind of makes me feel even more lame by comparison... haha.” 

“Don’t say that,” you chided. “I would’ve been a goner if not for you. And like I said earlier, you were so brave, just letting me suck your blood without question. You’re awesome too, Izuku. You’re probably even more awesome than I am.”  

“You’re exaggerating,” he said sheepishly, but his awkward smile told you he was happy to be receiving your praise.  

You crossed your legs and leaned back on your palms. “Well, I’m expected to be strong. My power is the whole reason my parents were considering naming me their heir, even though I’m not the oldest of my siblings. But after how bad I screwed up, that’s definitely not going to be happening anymore...”  

“Heir?” Izuku blinked. “Were you supposed to inherit their company or something?”  

“No, their throne.” 

Izuku went dead silent for a while.  

“...their what?” he eventually gaped.  

“Oh. Didn’t I mention this already? My parents are the king and queen of our land. I’m technically a princess by blood.”  

“P-Princess?!” he practically exploded, leaping halfway across the room. His big eyes proceeded to scour his surroundings, and his palms flew up to his face in horror. “Oh my god! I brought you back to my modest house without even knowing that! This place must look like a dumpster compared to what you’re used to! W-What do I even call you? Your Highness? Princess [Name]?!” 

“Just [Name] is fine,” you mused. “Your reaction is so funny. Nothing’s changed. I’m still the same person. Besides, I was kicked out by my family, so I probably shouldn’t even call myself royalty anymore. It’s just how I was raised, that’s all.”  

Izuku let out a heavy sigh. “Just when I thought I’d heard it all, you find new ways to surprise me...”  

“Haha. Sorry about that.” 

“No, I’m probably just being overdramatic. Anyways, um...” He seemed to be averting your gaze for some reason, and once again, his cheeks were flushed bright red. You noticed his eyes occasionally wandering towards your arm and shoulder, both of which were completely bare. “I-I should’ve brought you a change of clothes first before trying to clean your wound. You’ll get cold like that. Let me go talk to my mom real quick, and we’ll see what she has for you to wear. And maybe tomorrow, we can go shopping for some new clothes?”  

“Okay!” you chirped. “That would be great. Thank you so much.”  

“It’s no problem,” he smiled back, hastily exiting the room.  

Once you were left alone, you stood up and began pacing around again, just taking everything in. Then, you spotted it. One of those handheld devices that everyone had been walking around with earlier—the one that lit up and had tiny little people trapped inside of it.

“What kind of sorcery is this?” you huffed, leaning closer to get a better look. The screen was completely blank, for some reason. Was this one broken? But what use would a broken device be? You knew you shouldn’t go poking around Izuku’s things again, so for the time being, you just kept on staring at it, very much on guard.  

Out of nowhere, the device started vibrating, and you nearly crapped yourself from the fright.  

“Holy fuck!”

Needless to say, Izuku came running back into the room a second later. “[Name]!” he cried out. “What’s wrong? Did you hurt yourself?”  

“Y-Your device,” you pointed, shaking like a leaf in the wind. “I think it might be possessed.”  

Izuku furrowed his brows. “Um. You mean my cellphone?”  

“I’ve never heard that term before. What does it mean?”  

“Oh boy,” he sighed. “It seems like I’ve got a lot more to explain...”  

Yesterday had been a lot of fun. Well, glossing over the fact that you’d been abandoned by your family and whatnot.  

Still, you were extremely thankful to have met Izuku. You had a good feeling about him. At the risk of sounding a bit full of yourself, it felt like you belonged by his side. Last night, Inko had given you some clothes to lounge around in as a temporary measure. You’d eaten dinner together, and you didn’t miss the way Izuku had been looking at you in bewilderment from across the table. You’d later explained that just because you needed to consume blood didn’t mean that you didn’t consume other food as well. 

You’d slept in the guest room, although you’d initially been quite giddy about sharing a room with Izuku. But he nearly exploded when you suggested doing such a thing, so for the sake of his poor heart, you decided it was best to sleep apart.  

And now, it was the next day. Izuku had apparently been in his school uniform when you’d encountered him, but he was off from classes today, which gave him time to take you shopping. You were excited to see more of this world and all the novelties it had to offer.

Currently, you were heading towards what Izuku had called a ‘shopping district’.  

“There are all sorts of stores there,” he explained. “Hopefully you’ll be able to find some clothes you like. My mom’s stuff is okay, but it’s not super stylish... and I’m sure you’d like to pick out something that fits you better.”  

It was true. Inko’s old clothes were comfortable, but they certainly weren’t a perfect fit for your body.  

Besides, shopping with Izuku sounded fun. From what else he’d told you, there were places to try out different kinds of food too, and plenty of other things to do as recreation. Given the life you’d lived, nearly all of your clothing had come as a result of fittings and were tailor-made. They were beautiful, there was no doubt about it, but you couldn’t say you had much experience picking them out for yourself, since your servants and family were usually involved in the whole process.  

All of this was so new to you. Hey, maybe being banished wasn’t such a bad thing after all. You were trying to look on the bright side.  

“Shopping mall, shopping mall,” you hummed happily, practically skipping as you made your way towards the destination.  

Regretfully, you never actually made it to the shopping mall.  

“Huh? Is that shitty Deku I see? What the... he’s got a chick with him.”  

The source of the remark was a teenage boy with spiky ash blonde hair, narrowed crimson eyes, and a husky voice. There were two other guys with him, and they were snickering for some reason.  

“Deku?” you frowned. “No, you got his name wrong. It’s actually Izuku.”  

“[N-Name]!” Izuku hissed into your ear. He was even jabbing his elbow into your ribs, having broken out into a cold sweat. “That’s his nickname for me! Don’t question it, let’s just go!”  

“Nickname? Oh, so you must be friends! Hello, Izuku’s friend,” you beamed, waving towards the blonde guy.  

It wasn’t until after you’d already said the words that you remembered what Izuku had mentioned before, about not having any friends. 

You realized this as you watched the blonde guy’s expression turn to rage.  

“Friends?” he glowered. “Did you just call me and that piece of shit friends? Are you fucking kidding me right now?”  

“Oh. I guess I was wrong,” you blinked. Izuku had stopped jabbing you in the ribs, but it was only because he’d gone completely stiff. You were starting to put two and two together.

Izuku didn’t like this guy. This guy was bad news.  

“Hey, Deku,” blondie grimaced. “Who is this bitch? Don’t tell me you actually nabbed yourself a girlfriend. Nah, there’s no way. What lies did you tell her to somehow convince her into hanging out with your sorry ass?”  

“K-Kacchan,” Izuku swallowed, taking several steps back. He motioned for you to do the same, but now it was your turn to go still. And it was for a different reason entirely. 

Your gaze turned icy. “Why do you keep speaking about Izuku that way? It’s a crappy thing to do, so please stop it. He’s a really nice guy. Take it back.”

The boy—Kacchan, or whatever his name was—seemed to be getting angrier by the second.  

“Ha,” he chuckled humorlessly. “Would you look at that? This bitch actually has a backbone. Okay, then. Try me. I’ll kick your ass,” he seethed, already cracking his knuckles for good measure.  

“Not unless I kick yours first,” you answered sweetly.

“The fuck did you just—”  

Before he could even process what was happening, you had already rushed towards him and landed a punch square to his jaw. It knocked him back, most likely because he’d been unprepared, but not all the way to the ground, even though you were quite confident that you’d used enough force.  

He then swiped a hand across his lip, eyes nothing short of murderous.  

“Alright. That’s it. You’re fucking dead.”

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[flamsparks]

So, I finished Veilguard…

…and I need to vent…

The text ahead is mostly spoiler-free. Minor spoilers are present (and marked)… and it’s quite long. Apologies for that…

TL; DR: Veilguard is not a bad game. It’s just a bad Dragon Age. BioWare made most decisions on your behalf, so you don’t have to. You’re a hero in shining armour (mandatory), surrounded by NPCs in various shades of vanilla, immersed in a non-existent lore, having conversations that swing between generic and cringe. Nothing Dragon Age has ever been.

N.B. I tried to be as accurate as possible while writing this text. I took notes while playing on events and conversations to try and stick to the facts actually occurring during the game. But of course, the game is immense and guides to it are not as detailed or reliable as of now, so I couldn’t double-check most of it. So, if you find anything wrong with what I say, any details (or massive plot points) I missed or got wrong, please do let me know, and I’ll see to correct them!

Good things first. Because despite what the shitload I’m about to drop onto the game might suggest, there are a few changes they made that I genuinely appreciate.

First of all, the playability has greatly improved. When it comes to DA, one of the main issues I always had with every. single. game. was that the first few hours I was lost in the dynamics I needed to figure out before I got the hang of it. Maybe I’m just an idiot. But still, there are mechanics in all three previous games that need to be understood before you get down to actually playing (and enjoying) the game. Veilguard is not like that. It’s very intuitive, everything is pretty neatly marked… it’s something I sincerely appreciated.

I also don’t dislike the new combat mode. I was worried sick that a party of only 3 wouldn’t be remotely enough to cover everything that needs covering, but I’m glad this was not the case. I’m also a pretty non-strategic player when it comes to combat - the kind who’s content with swinging an axe around and decapitate whatever comes close enough to hit. It’s again a very intuitive format the one in Veilguard, and though 3 attacks may be few, they suffice imo. Same goes for steering your companions’ fight. Only downside is just how much you need to dodge. I was hoping to play an archer, but quickly realised that playing solely at range is basically impossible since enemies target you constantly. But melee combat has also become far more manageable than before, so not all that bad. But again, I’m a player who doesn’t really know what strategy is.

And another thing I really appreciated is the pacing. To have more minor main quests scattered all along the way rather than fewer, bigger main quests, interspersed with countless side quests, helps keep better track of the plot and the big events that just occurred (which are supposedly pretty urgent stuff, stop wasting your days picking elfroot!). And in a game as story-led as DA is, keeping the plot together is not a bad thing after all.

Good.

Now that we got this out of the way,

Let’s begin from something that alarmed me already ahead of release: the impossibility of importing your world state.

I’m generally not one to jump to conclusions before having thoroughly looked into the thing. But this could not not be an issue. DA games after Origins have always lived and breathed the lore they’re set in. Choices you made affect the world afterwards. And though in the major scheme of things, they all pretty much came together to the same core points, it’s always been nice to see how previous choices reflected into the new games. You could overhear people mentioning a certain event while passing by, you could ask how your companions from the previous game were doing… and cameos of characters from previous games were doubtlessly the best part of it. Some were just fleeting appearances, but some were so relevant to the game that you ended up doing entire quest-lines with characters you knew from before and cared for. What’s more devastating than having to choose between leaving Alistair or Hawke behind? (Don’t answer please, I know the list of tough choices is long, please, don’t make me suffer further).

In Veilguard, because you cannot bring up the previous state of the world, not only you don’t have any access to news from other parts of Thedas (like, c’mon, you can’t tell me that echoes of whatever is going on in the circles southwards is not reaching maybe not Tevinter, but at least Antiva or the Anderfells), but every cameo is so frustratingly underwhelming! Characters just make an appearance, you don’t really get to talk to them, and even when you do, you can’t ask them how they’d been doing since you last saw them in DA[X]. If I left Isabela to the Qunari, I wanna ask her how she escaped! If Dorian is in a relationship with Bull, I wanna be updated! If Kieran was born, I wanna know how he is! Morrigan is the only character from previous games you have decent conversations with, and you still don’t know shit! These are small details, often irrelevant to the plot, which make the lore of DA rich and alive, and help the player connect to the worlds before the current one!

But the sad truth is that Veilguard was made for new players. Not for old ones. And yes, I understand that after 10 years since the last game, it’s plausible to think that many old players will have forgotten the franchise… but how many people had been eagerly waiting to see this world further develop for a literal decade? I can’t believe they’re not worth enough.

And being unable to choose your own world state means that the rich lore is largely avoided. A big part of discovering new countries of Thedas in previous games was being immersed into the local culture, its traditions and customs, its politics, even its language, and they had an influence in the events. After Veilguard, what do I know about Rivain? Beeches. And they have food of some kind. That’s it. That’s the lore.

Oh no, wait. We know Rivain is a non-binary culture... or do we?

Please, help me out on this. Because I played this part twice, and twice I found a plot hole so massive I sincerely think I must have missed a very easy bridge crossing over it somewhere. Please, if I did, tell me. Because otherwise, this is what I saw. And it’s driving me insane.

When Taash needs to make their choice, it is spelled as “choose between the Qunari and Rivaini culture”. And beside the irony that was noted about Taash’s cultural identity to be forced into a rigidly binary choice, Taash embracing the Rivaini culture additionally translates into them embracing their non-binary identity… except… how does choosing that culture equate to choosing that identity? When is it ever stated that the Qunari culture is a binary one [it is made explicit later on, during that infamous conversation], while the Rivaini culture is not, before that moment? And that’s not even the whole problem! To do some “talks about gender”, Taash needs literally to go to Tevinter ([SPOILER] and since I had Minrathous taken over by the Venatori, the Shadow Dragons are literally missing atm, so how on Thedas did Neve manage to arrange not one but SEVERAL cozy talks between them and Taash?). How is that supposed to be “Rivaini culture” if Taash had literally never heard of it from them and needed to go to a whole other country to find out about it?

This is just how afraid Veilguard is of its own lore. Companions may be the soul of Dragon Age games, but their lore is their spine. Without it, they’re just a shapeless mushy blob. I literally went through every single game just to live and help build this world. That’s just how powerful it is. And Veilguard is so scared of it (and Maker save us from any mentions of slavery in Tevinter or THE CROWS), it won’t let you get any close to it, at the cost of not even giving you the information you need to make your own choices.

But even though the game won’t give you the elements to understand what you’re doing, it will always clearly mark in bright neon colours what’s the choice it wants you to make. And after all, you don’t need to be informed to make informed choices… if the choices are already made for you.

“You’re not very good at being evil” (Bellara, 9:52 Dragon) That’s right… why am I no? Oh yeah, because BioWare decided so for me.

In BG3 you can literally choose to go for a mystery background that forces you to kick a squirrel dead, and you can choose either to fight it or go down the horror lane of the Dark Urge. And regardless of the background, at the end of the game you can literally fuck off the entire mission and just decide to become god and enslave the whole literal world. You can fucking turn your companions into fucking brainless squids! That’s the amount of liberty you have!

Now, a disclaimer. This amount of liberty does come with a cost. The choices you can make are many, but Larian has its own standardised plot, and that’s the one you get. Jaheira can die in BG2, she will still show up in BG3. And if when Larian releases BG4, they will have chosen one path of events. And whatever you might have wished to see reprised in this new game, you can only accept what is chosen for you. This is the trade-off when have this much freedom of choice. And all in all, it’s nice to have a game like BG3, but my heart lies with my choices, and I want to see them reflected in my worldbuilding.

Veilguard instead has a course set for you and all your companions, and you have no power over it. And that’s frustrating not because I would make the evil choice, given the chance. I am literally the kind of player who manually saves before starting a conversation with any PG, so I can go back and try not to hurt their feelings the second time. And yet, having an evil option is important, even for me. Because that’s when I choose not to use it.

I elaborated further on the importance of the evil option here.

In DAO, your character literally doesn’t speak with its own voice, and needs you to select every single dialogue line it’s gonna use with NPCs. From there, PCs have grown more and more independent… until here in Veilguard, they basically do everything on their own! Entire conversations are carried out without you being able to intervene, if not to give a small input every once in a while. You don’t really need to read the options you have, because you know that anything you choose will inevitably be just nuances of the same answer. And even the “blunt” option is not necessarily blunt. Only mildly more determined, but even your personality is not your choice. And the one you get, well…

credit: @9lunarseas6 via @timo-0126 (link)

Like… really? Rook is a far, faaaar cry from the wit Hawke spoiled us with.

For the unlucky souls who’re not acquainted with Hawke, this in the video is one of the personalities they can have. And all these personalities are very starkly defined, and depending on which you’d been selecting most often, they end up colouring many of your interactions, even without your active control.

What’s Rook’s personality? If I had to describe them as a nuance in an array of colours, Rook would be a bleached rag. And it’s not like you can do much about it, because of course, there’s the matter of agency. Rook role plays on its own, and you’re just a companion, giving them your input and hoping that will affect their decisions.

And speaking of companions… let’s discuss them. Because for months, years on end, BioWare wouldn’t. shut. up. about how important companions are to them, how central they are to their stories, so let’s talk about the companions.

Companions have always been the soul of BioWare games, because they have a stark and faceted personality they’re not afraid to show in all its vivid colours. And then there’s Veilguard. I won’t say they’re soulless or without a personality, but they are... bland. They have personal challenges and peculiarities that give them colour, but they are still faint hues of the usual rainbow we’re used to.

To give an example, let’s discuss the irony of Bellara asking why the hero of the story she’s writing would save the world... and this is the exact question the whole game never asks to any of its characters once. None of them has any sort of ulterior motive to join the Veilguard other than the answer Rook gives Bellara: “because we’re heroes, that’s what we do.” (Seriously? That’s how you get away with it?)

In DAI, the world was ending too, and yet there was always another, more personal reason pushing your companions to join the Inquisition. Thom was desperate to give his life a purpose and to make amends. Bull needed to keep an eye on the Inquisition on behalf of Par Vollen. Dorian got sucked in at first because he was trying to save his mentor and his friend, and then remained because he literally didn’t have anywhere else to go. Cole... he didn’t even care about the world ending! He was there because helping others was literally his nature. And all these personal reasons helped shape these characters and build the depth of their personality.

What are the personal reasons pushing these individuals specifically to join the Veilguard? Taash might be tagging along to free the blighted dragons from their misery (or just because their mother told them). But even that is hardly exploited along their arc. And the same can be told of every companion. They struggle to have any depth to them, which is completely foreign to Dragon Age characters, even when too hasty writing made for poor plot and character development (looking at you, DA2). Even Varric! VARRIC! A character who’s had two whole games to build and solidify his personality! Who’s hands down one of the most loved character of the whole franchise! How do you even manage such a feat?? Oh yeah, by relegating him to a corner of your palace that you never visit, without ever giving him any relevance to the game. [non-explicit SPOILER] No, the explanation given at the end is not enough. Varric is repeatedly narrated to be a great man, but all you see him do is making a few motivational speeches and conclude with “I’m going to take a nap”. How can you do so much dirty to such a character so thoughtlessly? New players will never know that Varric is indeed a great character, because they are told so all the time, but never shown.

But this ton of telling and not showing and general flatness is not exclusive to the companions. It touches everything. The lore, the relations between factions and characters, everything is oversimplified, and often reduced to a few key features that characterises pretty much every aspect of them. Most are reduced to their species or faction or such, which doesn’t allow for overly faceted motives and which in turn impacts your freedom of personalising your own beliefs and purposes.

Davrin: “So, you met a god” Bellara: “Well, technically, OUR god”

No, technically, freedom of religion applies regardless of your species, and both Davrin and I made it repeatedly clear that we want nothing to do with these self-proclaimed “gods”. So WHY can’t I just tell Bellara to stop forcing her beliefs on us, just on the grounds that we’re elves? “Remember the nursery rhymes?” No, Bellara. I was raised in Tevinter by human parents. Why would I know elven nursery rhymes?

I chose to play as an elf raised in Tevinter – from where Dorian says the Dalish literally stay away – exactly because I wanted to see what consequences would bring to play as an atheist elf raised far from elven customs who has to take down two gods from the elven pantheon. And guess what I saw? Nothing. It changes nothing. Not in my interactions with others and not in the knowledge I have access to. Bellara will still talk to me and speak of “our” gods, and I will keep on knowing Dalish lore and speak (native?) Elven, because apparently I got that for free, no explanation given to justify such competences. Zevran, Fenris and Sera were all elves raised far from Dalish or any elven influence, and they went about it in three radically different ways. Zevran struggled for every bit of memory he could gather of his mother and her Dalish customs, Sera rejected them all together, while his elven heritage was not even on Fenris’ radar. Me, I just know. Because. And don’t even get me started on tattoos…

credit: @0alix0 (link)

But I can’t conclude this odyssey of an essay before I’ve touched one last subject.

Bellara: “I think we’re getting close” Rook: “How sure are you?” Bellara: “As sure as I can be?”

The script. Oh, the bloody script.

I sincerely hope someone organises a poll to vote for the cringiest scene in Veilguard. I’m sure a fan favourite will be that already infamous scene of Taash’s coming out with their mother. My vote would go to the final dialogue with Isseya though.

Beside the cringe though, most of the problems with the whole script of the game is that it’s just… empty. Dull. Generally uninteresting.

In DAI, I would literally stop whatever I was doing just to pay extra attention to whatever banter had just kicked in. And it was always amazing banter! The wit, the jokes, the stories, the developing relationships! In Veilguard, I appreciated a lot the fact that banters interrupted by STUFF start again from where they left. And I often went back to the Lighthouse to take a tour of all companions and eavesdrop their conversations. But soon I realised… that too was often not worth the trouble.

It’s just all cheap script, that most of the time fails to be interesting or even relevant. What’s the point of the conversation between Bellara and Rook I transcribed above? What does it give me? Nothing. It only feels like a need to fill empty bits. And this applies to every single conversation in the game, from banter to plot dialogues.

Oh, and beside the poll! Can we also have a drinking game with Bellara’s lines? A shot for every time she says “he was/is my brother” (double if she adds another “my brother” afterwards) and “my/our people/gods”. I swear 60% of her lines are just copy-pasted.

Dragon Age had been away for a decade, and I understand the need to call to new players to rebuild a base after so many years. I get it. But while Veilguard is not a bad game, it’s not a Dragon Age game. Because it’s devoid of everything that makes Dragon Age what it is.

So what's next?

First of all, stop your plans on completely wiping off every bit of previous lore by just saying “the south was blighted and destroyed everything”. I see what you’re trying to do there. Don’t. Destroying all previous worldbuilding to start off with no strings attached is not the way to go. Instead, find a way to call back all the writers you chased away over the years, starting from Gaider. You need people who live and love this franchise, who know it and know what made it the grand experience it is. You need them. And you need to listen to them.

Then.

Veilguard introduced us to a shit ton of never-before-seen locations. Now let us get to know them.

No Dragon Age had ever had this many places in one go. Previous games are set in one, two locations at best. And all of them allow you to dive deep into the lore by playing it. You get to choose who rules these countries, to decide on whose side you’d rather stand in a war... so pick one location, two at most, of the many you introduced in Veilguard, and let us go deep into it. Let us fight slavery by Fenris’ and Dorian’s side (in Joplin, maybe? *winkwink*), let us see the consequences of the mage-templar war, let us know whatever the Divine decided to do with the circles. And let us get INVOLVED. All Dragon Age games have always been about being involved in a vast lore, so let us do it! Let us experience and live this rich lore! And let us write a bit of it too.

P.S. is anyone else annoyed that elves and Qunari have gradually become just humans with funny features? Like pointed ears and/or big horns? I so miss Merrill’s and Fenris’ cat-like eyes and the Arishok’s dragon-like brow.

[bambi-kinos]

I think this is missing out on a few key things, not about Paul but about journalists. Yes to Paul not being elegant with communications but it's important to examine what the journos are doing through out these events. Paul was allowed to thump a pair of them and then they were easily purchased with an interview and a different set of photos when the actual bombshell would have been an expansive story about Paul being violent and then bribing them with an interview. Then there's the Rolling Stone interview which was set up to play into John & Yoko's expectations. They wanted 'McCartney' smothered in its crib and Jann Wenner by that point was already brown nosing as hard as he could. The Rolling Stone review was not organic and Paul could not have changed the message if he had been nicer or smarter with his PR because that did not line up with John & Yoko's desires. There is nothing Paul could have done to change it so he didn't try.

What Paul seems to have realized during his tenure as a Beatle is that journalists and the press are media organs who are given instructions on what to print rather than creating their own material. Tabloids will go the extra mile of blackmail, spying, and actual investigation because they want a real story (and that makes them genuinely dangerous) but respectable publications, even in the 1960s and 1970s, are passive as a rule. They minimize their investigative outings and they simply wait to be told what to print. If they were genuine about being """investigative truth tellers"""" or whatever the current noble lie is then Life would have published the entire story. Instead Paul remembered that magazines and newspapers are puppets that dutifully regurgitate what they are told to and nothing more. You can even see this in action in that one 1966 interview (I saw this in 8 Days a Week) where a woman journalist has an embarrassing temper tantrum about The Beatles being "horrid snobby." Paul has to remind her that if the journos give them not-nice questions then they will receive not-nice answers. Because they are journalists, they sullenly sit there and take it and presumably printed what they were told to print. If they were capable of doing more than they would have but celebrities have more leverage and can generally do what they want.

John and Paul both realized this and acted accordingly. John figured out that Ray Connelly was not a good puppet because Connelly didn't respond to John's manipulation. That off the record chat wasn't just a chat, John was trying to get Connelly to leak the break up and was angry when Connelly didn't do it. Thus Paul got the drop on him. Jann Wenner in contrast was desperate for John's validation and hero worshipped him which made him a much better conduit for John's ambition. Paul is much more self-made and didn't need to build a sycophant network like John did. He had puppets he was comfortable with like you showed here but he understood that if he so much as sneezed there would be a line of journalists out the door trying to get photos of the snot. If Paul wanted to do PR then he would have done it. That's not to say Paul would have done it well, I agree that he wasn't used to handling it himself so he was clumsy and inept, but he understood how it was all done. If he really wanted to do PR for 'McCartney' or Ram then he would have.

I highly recommend reading McCartney Legacy Volume 1 for this period (I haven't read Volume 2 yet) because it becomes apparent that Paul's lack of PR was a deliberate choice on his part. He deliberately ignored or skated past journalists numerous times on his way to found Wings. McLegacy demonstrates that Paul was very at ease with the idea that he wouldn't get a big PR storm around 'McCartney'. I believe that he cultivated this on purpose and that Paul's invincible sense of self worth didn't need or want a PR bomb. What mattered to him were the sales numbers, and Paulfans showed up in droves as did the radio DJs. Paul likes the hard numbers because those are hard proof that stand the test of time; John's psychology in contrast prioritized sycophantism.

Rather than Paul being PR illiterate I would say that he made a deliberate choice to not do PR. He was sick and weak and wanted to spend time with his children, he chose not to engage and the timeline on McLegacy Volume 1 demonstrates this. If he wasn't doing family activities then he was wooing his woman and making music with hired orchestras in New York. I would go so far as to say that John understood this and was pants wettingly terrified of Paul and his output which is why he came out so strongly against him in the first place. John secured a puppet in Wenner and used him accordingly. Paul did not do PR bombs in contrast because he believed in his music. If Paul was actually pissed about Miss Thing's whiny shitfit regarding his album then he would have responded more harshly than with a telegram making fun of her childish behavior. What is she going to do, not review his next album? Paul had those balls in a vice, he was happily squeezing them to remind the publication who exactly owned them.

Paul was an industry veteran by the time Ram and 'McCartney' came out. He understood how PR goes even if he wasn't elegant in handling it. He understands that the primary purpose of journalism is to print pre-made material. The Beatles were united in one thing when they treated the press with contempt and freely kicked them around with no thought to consequences. When Paul reminisces about this period he is reminiscing about John, not the puppets John used to do the deeds. Paul understands that they are meaningless. Paul's clumsiness regarding PR is interesting especially in light of how he didn't git gud until after John died but IMO it is a mistake to attribute Paul's lack of PR to illiteracy during this period. He fully knew what he was doing because he had already been a Beatle for years.

Absolutely begging everyone to read McLegacy, it is a dry as hell book but still fascinating and really illuminates Paul's mindset at this time. He made a deliberate choice to not speak to John or George at this time and most of his communications was through legal representatives. When Paul is actually angry about something then he sends a lawyer with carefully written language, hence the legal threat over John calling him 'camp.' He doesn't settle his problems through a puppet at a magazine or a newspaper.

"A dark shadow on an otherwise beautiful record": PR, McCartney and The Beatles' Split.

“No, I wasn’t angry – shit, he’s a good P.R. man, that’s all. He’s about the best in the world, probably. He really does a job. I wasn’t angry. We were all hurt that he didn’t tell us that was what he was going to do.”

(John Lennon in Rolling Stone, 21 Jan 1971)

To cut to the chase, I want to explain why this statement from John, claiming Paul is a good PR man is wrong. Largely thanks to quotes like this from John, Paul gets painted as the Beatle with a good media strategy, the insinuation being of course, that he is disingenuous and inauthentic. I don’t believe this is true in general, but what I really want to focus on, and what John is referencing in that quote, is the publicity around Paul’s 1970 album McCartney, which got all tied up with the news of The Beatles split, and how actually, mistake after mistake was made, rather than it being what John claims - a purposeful move to get more publicity for his album. 

This isn’t a moral judgment on either John or Paul, or me saying Paul is stupid for not doing more. In fact, I think it playing out this way is far more interesting and we can gain a lot of insight about his mindset and relationships from his press activities around this time. 

I’m going to do this chronologically as much as possible, but before we dive in it will be helpful for us to keep a few basic PR strategies and tools in mind to help us understand what’s (or perhaps more importantly, what’s not) happening. So what are some things that make for good public relations? 

A clear, cohesive message. What's the story of the album? There should be key phrases that are repeated throughout press activities, and also allow an easy fall back when faced with questions that haven’t been prepared for. Broadly speaking, you want to highlight the good and ignore the bad, without lying or appearing to hide anything.

A good relationship with the press. Having even a couple of journalists on side can be a huge benefit, it makes for friendlier interviews and more forgiving assessments (which isn’t to say journalists are being fake or can be incentivised, but it’s just human nature that if you make friends, you’re going to have an easier time.) Furthermore, you want a reputation in the industry as someone that’s nice to interview, because journalists can and will talk, and if they’re going to come in with a preconception about you, you want it to be positive. 

Reactive messaging. If something comes out that you don’t want to be out, be prepared. Ideally potential problems have already been planned for. Know which journalists to reach out to, know what the story is, then be prepared to go quiet and leave things alone.

Pre-prepared Q&As or FAQs should answer more questions than they generate. They also shouldn’t require in depth answers - save that for conversations where there’s time for explanations. 

So, let’s start back in 1969. The Paul is dead rumours are in full force and Paul, Linda, Heather and Mary are living up in Scotland, trying to escape the goings-on back in London. 

On 24 October, Paul gives an interview to the BBC dispelling the rumours about his death, which goes out on 26-27 October in two parts. A few days later, Dorothy Bacon and Terrence Spencer from Life Magazine make the trip up to his farm to try and get another interview with him, for a piece they’re also doing about the rumours. 

Paul throws a bucket of dirty water at them, they get pictures, and then realising how this will look if published, Paul gives them an interview and promises to have Linda send them some family shots for the articles. In exchange they get rid of the photos they took earlier in the day.

So the first point here, that hopefully I don't need to spell out, is that you don’t wanna go throwing buckets of water at journalists. Thankfully, Paul did realise this and course corrected, but I can only imagine what the fall out would have been had he hadn’t gone after them. But what’s important for this story is that Paul is fed up with journalists and having to share his private life, he's emotional, and his instinct is to lash out.

The other thing that’s interesting here is a line that goes completely unnoticed. At this point, The Beatles split is not public knowledge. 

The Beatle thing is over. It has been exploded, partly by what we have done, and partly by other people. We are individuals, all different. John married Yoko, I married Linda. We didn’t marry the same girl.

(Paul McCartney in Life Magazine, November, 1969)

This is huge, and it doesn’t get picked up by anyone else. It’s not made a big deal of in the Life article, it’s perhaps the clearest statement we get about the state of The Beatles, and yet it flies under the radar. I’d love to know exactly what the deal is here, but there’s not much we can do about that, but what we should start keeping in mind in this: there is no plan in place around The Beatles split. There is just an agreement to not make it public yet. 

The McCartneys go back to London and Paul starts recording music with his new equipment at home. Later he books studio time when he decides he can make an album out of the songs he’s been working on. 

Some key dates: 

Paul finishes the album on 25 February.

The album is set to release on 17 April.

Ringo’s album get rushed to release two weeks early on 27 March and Let It Be is also supposed to be released in April.

On 31 March John and George send a letter, delivered by Ringo, asking Paul to delay the release of McCartney. Paul refuses and Let It Be gets moved instead. 

Which brings us to April. Prior this, Paul realised that if he’s going to be putting an album out he’s going to have to do some publicity, but the problem is… well, there’s a few; he’s never had to do publicity for a solo album and simply doesn’t have the knowledge, his relationship with Apple has completely deteriorated which includes the people who have been handling this stuff for him in the past, and lastly, he doesn’t want to be dealing with press. Refer back to him and the bucket. 

Thankfully, Peter Brown and Derek Taylor from Apple’s press office, tell him he does need to do something and to an extent, he listens. They select a handful of papers he’ll do interviews with, and Peter Brown puts together a Q&A for Paul to answer, which will go out to journalists in the press kit with their early copy of the album (x).

What I would love to do here is a question by question breakdown of that press kit Q&A but I’m conscious of how long this is already so I won’t… but before we get into that, here are a few more key events: 

7 April: The Eastmans issue a press release with news about Paul’s solo album and his acquisition of the film rights for Rupert The Bear. This is covered mostly by American press on 8 April who speculate that this could mean the end of The Beatles. (An important note here is the lack of communication between the Eastmans and Apple, not knowing what materials each other are providing is not helpful).

9 April: McCartney press kits are sent to journalists. 

9 April: Before Don Short at the Daily Mirror clocks off for the night, he is called by an Apple employee who tells him Paul has definitely quit. 

10 April: The Daily Mirror breaks the news with the headline ‘Paul Is Quitting The Beatles’. 

10 April: After doing interviews all day, Derek Taylor issues a statement regarding The Beatles. It doesn’t say much, which he acknowledges, because there’s not much he can say at this point. Another important note here, is that not even the head of publicity of Apple knew what was going on with The Beatles. There is no communication, and with no communication there can be no plan.

(Paul McCartney Project page that covers all this)

So what happened that made The Beatles split go from speculation to a certainty? It’s all to do with that Q&A. Of course, with the Eastman’s press release people were going to start connecting the dots, but that call Short got from his source isn’t presented as a rumour. 

Now, there’s a lot to say about this Q&A because Paul's answer are so unhelpful and you can feel his attitude. I think the fact this was allowed to go out is a fundamental piece of evidence of Paul’s relationship with Apple at the time. No one wanted to tell him no, and he certainly wasn’t going to give them more than the bare minimum. 

And lets be really clear here. This is a Q&A for his new album. Obviously the state of the Beatles was going to be brought up which is why Peter Brown included the questions, but the number of the questions on that topic and then Paul’s answers, make it really confusing and it’s no wonder this is what press picked up on, rather than just talking about Paul’s album. There are 41 questions in total, and 13 of them are asking him about his relationship to the other Beatles, Apple and Klein. That’s just over a third of the Q&A talking about things that he doesn’t want to be talking about. The fact he didn’t just tell Apple that he wasn’t going to answer some of the questions shows how little forethought went into this on his part. There was a much more concise way to do this, and I do not believe for a second Paul wanted further questions about the state of the Beatles when he’s trying to promote his first solo album. 

And remember what I said at the top, about how if you’re gonna be promoting something in the press you want clear messaging around it? That’s already going be difficult now this Q&A has tied so much of the Beatles split into their messaging, despite Paul actually having a pretty clear idea of what the album’s story is aside from that, but the answers Paul gives to those questions just add further confusion. 

Link to full Q&A.

Q: Were you influenced by John’s adventures with the Plastic Ono Band, and Ringo’s solo LP? A: Sort of, but not really. Q: Will they be so credited: McCartney? A: It’s a bit daft for them to be Lennon-McCartney-credited, so ‘McCartney’ it is. Q: Will the other Beatles receive the first copies? A: Wait and see. Q: Is it true that neither Allen Klein nor ABKCO have been nor will be in any way involved with the production, manufacturing, distribution or promotion of this new album? A: Not if I can help it. Q: Did you miss the other Beatles and George Martin? Was there a moment eg, when you thought ‘wish Ringo was here for this break?” A: No. Q: Are you planning a new album or single with the Beatles? A: No. Q: Is this album a rest away from the Beatles or the start of a solo career? A: Time will tell. Being a solo album means it’s the start of a solo career… and not being done with the Beatles means it’s a rest. So it’s both. Q: Is your break from the Beatles temporary or permanent, due to personal difference or musical ones? A: Personal differences, business differences, musical differences, but most of all because I have a better time with my family. Temporary or permanent? I don’t know. Q: Do you see a time when Lennon-McCartney becomes an active songwriting partnership again? A: No. Q: What is your relationship with Klein: A: It isn’t – I am not in contact with him, and he does not represent me in any way. Q: What is your relationship with apple? A: It is the office of a company which I part-own with the other three Beatles. I don’t go there because I don’t like the offices or business, especially when I’m on holiday.

So what can we get from this? It’s the start of a solo career for Paul, he doesn’t know if The Beatles break is permanent or temporary, he’s not in contact with Klein and Klein doesn’t represent him, he owns part of Apple but he doesn’t like going there, and he seems very certain that the Lennon-McCartney partnership is over, despite not being sure if The Beatles will play together again or not. 

It’s a mess. It raises further questions. The only reason I can think of for it being so long is Peter Brown trying to cover absolutely everything he could think a journalist would ask, but it’s given Paul far too much scope for muddled answers, and in some cases, factually incorrect ones. He is tied up with Klein whether he likes it or not, because Klein’s tied up with Apple and Paul still has a contract with them. 

It’s no wonder that this becomes the focus of the media narrative, and it makes Paul panic. 

So on 16 April, the day before McCartney was released, Paul sits down with journalist Ray Connolly. And we move from story making, into reactive messaging. There is some thought behind this - Connolly is friendly with The Beatles and had actually already been aware of the split thanks to an off the record chat with John, so he was a good choice. The interview was published in the Evening Standard, a few days after the album had come out. 

And here’s why you want a friendly journalist to talk to, because as the world rushed to say that Paul had broken up the band, Connolly led his article with this: 

Paul McCartney didn’t kill the Beatles. If the group is dead, McCartney might be seen as the last survivor. If he has quit, and he still hasn’t confirmed it, he was the last to go.

(Paul McCartney in the Evening Standard, 21-22 April 1970)

However, the interview is also extremely telling about where Paul’s at emotionally in this moment. 

A few days ago Paul McCartney decided to break his year-long silence and be interviewed. He wanted to clear up the confusion about his relations with the other Beatles and Allen Klein, and to kill the rumours that he was now ‘a hermit living in a cave somewhere with a ten-foot beard’. He wanted to show that he really was a happily married man with ‘a nice family and a good life’. But most of all he wanted to talk, to work things out in conversation, as much, I suspect, for his own benefit as anything.

This is not what you want to be doing with a journalist, you want to have this worked out before the conversation. 

We met for lunch in a Soho businessman’s restaurant. With hardly moments for the hellos, he’d launched into his theme, talking rapidly and intently, and only occasionally allowing Linda to come in as support and verification. He wanted to put it all straight, to show that no one was to blame for what had happened, and when after two and a half hours’ non-stop talking he had cleared up his mind and mine too, he laughed, said he felt better now, got into his car and went home.

This demonstrates the lack of media training he had. It’s a stark difference to the confidence he had doing press with the other Beatles, on his own and with a particular idea to get across he appears nervous and controlling. Long form interviews like this are a marathon, not a sprint, and had he had an advisor or representative that was willing to push back against him, he would have known how to handle this better.

Moreover, an interview of this sort should have been done and published prior to the album coming out, or at least on the day of. Yes, there were always going to be questions about The Beatles tied up with this release, but one long interview like this, that had been properly prepared for, could have gone a long way to keeping the story straight. He also, despite his steamroller-ing of the conversation to begin with, comes across much more balanced about the situation than he does in those Q&A answers, so leading with something like this would have put him on much better footing.

So let's just pause here. What have we got so far? We've got Paul wanting to do as little press as possible, and with a breakdown of communication with his press team resulting in minimal planning and advice. This goes completely against the picture John is trying to paint.

And I’m not done yet. Because now we need to talk about the response to the album which wasn’t what I imagine Paul had wanted. There are two reviews I’m going to focus on here, firstly from Disc & Music Echo, written by Penny Valentine. 

I don’t know what he was thinking when he planned this album. Perhaps he is laughing at us all. That’s fine, but it’s a pretty cruel way of doing it… almost a betrayal of all the things we’ve come to expect.

(Disc & Music Echo review, 18 April 1970)

It’s really harsh, but also this is within her right as a journalist. And what should someone do if they’re getting bad reviews? Ignore them. Thank the fans. Thank the people who say nice things. Don’t highlight negative attention, and certainly don’t lash out. 

And look, there’s a lot to be said about Paul, Linda, John and Yoko’s press communications over the 70s, the Melody Maker letters spring to mind, and I’m very aware that I’m looking at this from 2025 when PR is much bigger and better oiled machine, almost to the point of it being quite boring and predictable. I do, however, also think that ‘don’t lash out at journalists who don’t like your work’ is common sense. 

So Paul and Linda writing to Disc & Music Echo is a bit much to my eyes: 

Dear Penny hold your hand out you silly girl I am not being cruel or laughing at you. I am merely enjoying myself. You are wrong about the McCartney album. It is an attempt at something slightly different, it is simple, it is good and even at this moment it is growing on you, love. – Paul and Linda McCartney.

(Paul and Linda's telegram to Disc & Music Echo, 25 April 1970)

It’s condescending, and if you want to plant the seeds of what your album is meant to be, there are much better places and ways to do it. Again this is reactive, showing little to no planning earlier in the year. 

But here’s the thing that actually, completely baffles me. On the same day, in the same paper, another article gets published, this time by Derek Taylor, with the by line reading ‘Derek Taylor, Beatles Press Officer’. This just shouldn't happen. I can’t think of another case where someone’s PR is coming to their rescue in print. That’s not their job, and yes, Taylor used to be a journalist but he’s not anymore. I think this is way more to do with the way the people that have been with the Beatles since the early days are so emotionally wrapped up in this, they weren’t the people that should have been handling this.

(x)

It also shows though, that however much Paul was distancing himself from Apple, there were people still there who loved him. It’s an emotional, beautifully written piece calling for people to leave Paul alone, but also not a good PR move, especially when he’s highlighting a specific journalist. Whether Paul asked Derek to do this, or Derek did it of his own accord, I don’t know, but it looks defensive and if I was a journalist, I’d be rolling my eyes. 

Which brings us to the final part of this, the Rolling Stone review, published on 14 May 1970, nearly a month after the album came out, and largely not about the album at all, but a lot of  focus on Paul’s handling of the situation. 

The review of the actual songs is pretty complimentary, but this is also a personal attack on Paul. 

(Full review)

Unfortunately, there is more to this album than just music. Accompanying the release of McCartney was a mass of external information — all of it coming directly from Paul himself — which casts real doubt on the beautiful picture which the songs create. 

The sheets contain even more assertions about how happy and peaceful Paul and Linda are these days, and some interview statement from Paul concerning his relationship to the Beatles — statements which drip a kind of unsavory vindictiveness.

My problem is that all of the publicity surrounding the record makes it difficult for me to believe that McCartney is what it appears to be. In the special package of information which Paul wanted to include with the album we find startlingly harsh statements.

The lasting effect of this publicity campaign is to cast a dark shadow on an otherwise beautiful record. Listening to it now I cannot help but ask if Paul is really as together as the music indicates, how could he have sunk to such bizarre tactics?

I don't think this needs much commentary. You know something’s gone wrong with your PR when that becomes the focus, rather than the thing you’re actually trying to promote. 

If we return to the four things I listed above, I think we can pretty resolutely lay out what I wanted to do. 

Was there a clear, cohesive message? Around the album itself, sort of, Paul knew what it was. But it got tied up with the news of The Beatles split, the messaging around which was confusing with no one sticking to the same story. He also didn't do enough before the album came out, to get that messaging about his album stuck in people's heads. So overall, no. 

Did he build good relationships with press? No. He threw a bucket at one. He provided confusing press kit material, even to journalists he was friendly with he came across in a manner that was worth noting in an article, he sent a bitchy telegram to a journalist who wrote a bad review, and this all culminated in Rolling Stone spending more time talking about his publicity than his album.  

Did Paul have reactive messaging prepared? Evidently not, and then given the chance to provide some, he came across as panicked to the journalist he was speaking to. 

Did his Q&A provide clear, simple answers to common questions he was likely to get asked? No, it was overly long, asking the same questions in multiple ways and no editing was done to his short, snappy, confusing, and incorrect answers. 

I don’t want to give the idea that Paul, overall, is just shit at PR. (I mean, there's a difference between being a good spokesperson and good at PR but I won't get into that). He’s a highly successful musician who by all accounts, is now extremely good at interviews and making journalists feel at ease. He’s Paul fucking McCartney. But John saying this, in direct reference to this period of press activities is just not true. The album did well for Paul in the charts and sales, yes, but I’d argue that’s despite all this, rather than because of it. 

And it’s also important to reiterate, that Paul simply wasn’t interested in doing a lot of publicity. He wasn’t even sure this was going to be an album when he started writing the songs. He didn’t want people coming to his farm, invading his new family life (and rightly so), he didn’t want to be on TV or the radio every day. That’s why his Q&A is so terse and why he hadn’t put any thought in how he was going to talk about The Beatles. And whilst how he felt is understandable, what he needed were a team around him willing to push back, steer him, and were separate from Apple. That’s the only way, I think, this could have gone differently.

Even then, he probably wouldn’t have listened to them anyway: 

I don’t think I need a manager in the old sense that Brian Epstein was our manager. All I want are paid advisers, who will do what I want them to do. And that’s what I’ve got.

(Paul McCartney in the Evening Standard, 21-22 April 1970)

And that’s really the crux of it all, because you can’t do good with PR with someone who doesn’t want to take advice and thinks they know best. And I love him for it. 

[schrodingersachillesheel]

The MCU didn't need to use time travel and their decision to do so directly led to their downfall

If they hadn't done that time skip they could've used that time to slowly rebuild the team and set up for a huge collaboration that solves the issue phase 4 started. (that issue being the fact that it no longer feels like one cohesive mcu)

"but what about the infinity stones?" "how are they going to undo the snap??"

the fuckin power of friendshi- LET ME EXPLAIN

if the time between the snap and endgame was spent introducing the characters and storylines we now have in phase 5, you can correlate many of them to the abilities of infinity stones.

Wanda (reality) and Loki (time) are obvious ones but it doesn't stop there;

with a little work space (America Chavez), mind (Professor X), power (Starlord/Peter Quill), and soul (Jean Grey/Phoenix), can be slowly established. then, endgame can be the realization of these connections.

this would clear up the common misconception that infinity stones are this all-powerful, vague, items w abilities beyond anything else in the galaxy because if masters in each ability working together could very easily have the same result as wielding all six infinity stones then, it's a whole lot easier to continue the steady rise in stakes without ppl saying stuff like "wow so all those heroes died for nothing" when they watch the first episode of Loki.

the reason thanos needed to collect all infinity stones was bc he, alone, would be a master in all forms of power in the universe.

you can still retire original characters in this storyline, as well as explore a much wider universe. everything could still work and you wouldn't have been accidentally concluding your story.

**the actual heroes are totally subject to change i was just looking for examples that are already members of the mcu

[3hks]

How to Write a Truly Terrifying Villain

Have you ever wanted to create a villain that's actually evil? One that can scare your readers yet also leave them with an everlasting impression? An antagonist is so much more than just a "bad guy", and in this guide, we'll explore how to write an evil character effectively!

*GOALS/MOTIVATIONS*

No matter what kind of character someone is, their objectives alone speak volumes about who they are as a person. Therefore, with this villain, I suggest forming a goal that stems from their selfishness.

Although, what does that really look like? Selfishness is actually quite subjective. From what I have seen, a self-serving goal tends to be quite specific since it's a personalized aim. Don't give them a target that's too broad or too generic because chances are, it won't really benefit them. (Ex: World domination)

Am I saying that you absolutely need a greedy antagonist to highlight their malice? No, but it truly is a great place to begin at.

*EMPATHY*

Next, let's talk about empathy. How well do they understand those around them? Do they care?

Many villains we see lack empathy; they aren't concerned about their victims, and sometimes, even their own followers.

However, there's also the opposite case, where the antagonist does have empathy and fully understands what others may feel, but still doesn't care. This dark empathy is truly a testament of their malevolence because they're aware of the physical and mental consequences of their actions, yet they do it anyway. That, in itself, is rather terrifying.

*NEUTRALITY*

If your villain isn't the main antagonist, this might be something you want to consider.

As I mentioned before, this type of character prioritizes themselves over anything and everything. If helping the hero will benefit them, then why not? If assisting another antagonist will be rewarding, then it's worth it. While your character is a villain, their alignment itself might be a bit blurred.

Although it could seem counterproductive to have an "evil character" who occasionally aids the protagonist, the switching of sides actually maintains a sense of unpredictability for your character.

*INTELLIGENCE*

If anything, I highly suggest not making your villain stupid. While I'm sure there are intimidating dim-witted antagonists out there, the truth is, if your character understands themselves, their limits, their abilities, and the events taking place, your readers will automatically see them as competent and intelligent, which is critical to their credibility.

Have them think things through, plan carefully, and act responsibly. They know what they're doing, you just have to prove it.

*ISOLATION*

Another thing that helps is to keep your villain isolated. You don't need to physically keep them away from everyone, but they might be figuratively, emotionally distanced from others. Sometimes this is on purpose, and sometimes it's not.

*LASTING IMPACT*

This may seem obvious to some people, but there's got to be some key event regarding your villain that has lasting impact on the plot, characters, setting, and/or protagonist. It doesn't need to occur during your story, it could have occurred beforehand, but it still must affect the current time period.

Show why they're the villain.

*REASON, DON'T JUSTIFY*

A lot of people (primarily readers) nowadays are obsessed with the idea of justifying a character's poor actions. But the truth is, you can't justify everything, not to mention that it's just unnecessary. It's unrealistic. Instead, provide a reason as to why they chose to do something. What instigated their actions? What goes through their heads? Did their past influence their current motives and character?

Don't try to balance everything out! In the end, a wrong is still a wrong, and it's okay to let it remain as such.

*CONCLUSION*

With all of these ideas taken into consideration, you have to remember that an evil character doesn't exactly correlate to a hateable character. Are there hated villains? Yes! But don't go out of your way to make them loathsome in order to establish their "evil-ness".

At the end of the day, they're still people too, so give them dimension, complexities, and weaknesses to prove it.

Happy writing (and New Year)~

3hks <3

[nekropsii]

Nekro, I'm very glad to have your blog exist. You are a shining beacon of hope. I need your input on somebody's opinion, somebody's very bad no good opinion. Somebody told me that Cronus and Mituna was just "blackrom flirting", which is supposedly "no different than normal trolls playfighting". They also told me that Cronus is a GENUINE HERO because of Dualscar! I need your input on this. I want you to tell me everything wrong with this. You don't have to, but I just love seeing you analyze stuff and this particular person's statements made me genuinely angry

Hey, thanks! That means a lot, really! <3

This one's easy. I fear I have to put this under the cut, however, due to... Cronus... Cronusing.

Content Warning: Detailed Discussions and Depictions of Abuse and Sexual Assault. Cronus is there.

Absolutely zero indication is given that it is BlackRom Flirting, or even "Flirting" at all. Just because someone is interacting with someone sexually does not mean it is flirting, or even that they're attracted to them. In this case, it is at the barest minimum Sexual Harassment, but if we are being completely honest about the events that are happening on screen, this is Sexual Assault.

Cronus is not attracted to Mituna. This is not BlackRom. This is just abject hatred from someone who is deeply entitled and wishes to control the bodies of his peers, but especially the bodies of those he deems most vulnerable. Some people counter that idea with the fact that he is literally Sexually Assaulting him here, but that requires a major misunderstanding of why people commit Sexual Assault. It is not about Love, or Lust. Oftentimes, rapists are not attracted to their victims at all. Sexual Violence is an act of Violence, not an act of Attraction. Sexual Abuse is, like all other modes of Abuse, about Control, not about Love. Abusers isolate you from your loved ones and limit your access to your money/car/phone to increase their control over you and your ability to flee or get help. They demean you, lovebomb you, and gaslight you to control your sense of self worth and your sanity. They beat you to control your behavior. They sexually assault you to control your entire sense of bodily autonomy. This is how you get Heterosexual Men sexually assaulting other Men or Boys, or Heterosexual Women sexually assaulting other Women or Girls. It is not about attraction, it is about control, and it is about violence. If I may be candid - I've been assaulted more times than I can count in my life. I can safely say that almost every single person who laid their hands on me in that way was in no way attracted to me, they just thought I was an easy target, and wanted to control me because I was an "Other" at the nigh bottom of the social hierarchy. Violence and Control. Not Attraction. Not Love. Not Lust. Pure Violence.

It does not take much thought to realize that Cronus is completely and utterly disgusted by Mituna and everything he represents - it's just that Mituna is also an extremely vulnerable person with extensive issues with communicating due to his speech impediments and his TBI (Traumatic Brain Injury), and a storied history of not being believed by his peers. He is, in essence, a Perfect Victim.

You do not need to look further for proof on Cronus literally just hating and being disgusted by Mituna than his comment about how he wishes he could kill him for being disabled, and the only reason he didn't was because it would have negative social consequences. Killing Mituna would make him lose control over his own social life. So he doesn't, and he resents Beforus for not being the right kind of Eugenicist to enable that murder. I don't think I need to tell you that this would be a Hate Crime.

I also do not think I need to state that Mituna is not attracted to Cronus, considering the first set of screenshots show nothing but a visceral rejection of all advancements being made towards him. Over and over again, he reiterates his lack of consent, and Cronus just keeps on touching him while constantly Verbally Abusing him for being disabled. At most, one could say Mituna experiences an odd kind of "Fawn Response" to his abuse, possibly hoping that playing the role of a friend will make things not as bad, when really all it does is just open up more opportunities for abuse.

I think it's noteworthy that Mituna has a few speech impediments that effect most of his speech, except for key phrases that he says a lot, and/or is making active effort to say clearly. The implication behind how clearly Mituna is speaking while constantly repeating his lack of consent is positively dismal, especially in conjunction with the fact that Cronus is doing this outside, in a public area, seemingly implying that this is so routine that he isn't even being careful about it anymore... But what's even more depressing is that this clarity continues into Mituna's near constant apologies - many of which are prompted by Cronus, as a reflexive response to abuse.

Also, there's my favorite piece of evidence that this is abuse... The fact that Cronus calls it that, point blank. He just admits to it.

He calls his own actions abuse. Yes, it's sandwiched in... Hmm. Manipulating Meenah to get her off of his case for being abusive towards Mituna by redirecting the guilt onto her for actions that she didn't even do herself...

... But that was still a tacit admission of guilt, was it not? He calls his actions abuse.

Everyone go home. Discourse over. He admits to it. We can all throw bricks at anyone denying it now.

Also, Dualscar was not a hero, and neither is Cronus. Dualscar? Hero? Fucking Dualscar? Orphaner Dualscar was a slave owner who was having a real good time in a BlackRom with a straight up rapist, only to die because he literally couldn't tell a good joke to save his life when he went to tell on her.

The closest Cronus gets to "heroism" is the fact that a prophecy was told to him once, which he assumed to be about him, and then got really upset when it was not about him. It was literally just a Harry Potter joke, though, and also - again - did not happen.

He isn't a hero, he doesn't fill the archetype of a hero, nothing. He's also just pathetic, and now he's the one who's the sexual abuser, rather than Aranea taking that role herself.

Everyone go home. Get outta here. Shoo. SHOO!!!!

Discourse Over!!!!!! I've solved all of it. Thank you for reading.