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itsbinforever · 6 months ago

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SUMMER SWEETHEART

Summer held many charms for you, and Seo Changbin was one of them.

WORD COUNT: 3.8k GENRE: Desi Cottagecore PLAYLIST: Here If this fic was a movie, Badra Bahaar by Amit Trivedi would be the song that plays during the ending credits.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I hate everything I write, with the exception of this story. It's like my words have an expiry label that says "BEST BEFORE: 2 WEEKS", after which I start cringing at them. Summer Sweetheart is the first and only story of mine that I cherish so deeply. I love the characters and I love their banter, and I like to pretend I didn't write it so that I can return to read it. I hope it receives a fraction of this love from its readers on Tumblr too.

｡°⚠︎°｡ This story is heavily influenced by desi culture. Here's a lexicon to guide you through foreign words, which have been used sparsely in the story:

Mandi (muhn-dee): A large market for fruits and vegetables

Haveli (ha-way-lee): a manor house, usually in villages or smaller towns

Charpai (chaar-pa-ee): a bed with a wooden frame and jute webbing

Kurti (ker-ti): An Indian tunic

Dupatta (doo-puh-ta): An Indian scarf

Nani (na-nee): maternal grandmother

Summer brought you to the bustling haveli in the countryside, where your grandmother and her retinue of servants fussed over how thin you’d gotten and took it upon themselves to flesh you out. Summer brought family reunions and nightly ruminations, cross-legged on charpais under the star-spangled skies until the conversation was taken over by that uncle whose astrological fascinations overflowed into a panoramic commentary on all the constellations that your city was never graced with. Summer brought bright mornings, waking up under the mosquito net that sheltered you from the plaguing insects but not the beaming sun rays. Summer held many charms for you, and Seo Changbin was one of them.

The last day of summer was yet another day spent frolicking through the orchards, amid the fruit laden trees and kempt grass, barefoot and hand in hand with your childhood sweetheart. You wore silly grins on your faces, cheeks tinted red under the leafy canopy that filtered in light from the sweltering summer sun, too young and too in love with the present to notice everything that could go wrong.

The orchard boasted of ripe mangos, ready to be plucked and sold in the nearby town’s mandi, from where, your mothers would ensure, the delectable summer treat would find its way onto your plates in a variety of preparations each meal for the rest of the season until you were sick of its cloying sweetness. But young and callow as you were, Changbin and you couldn’t let go of the opportunity the old neighbour’s visit to the city presented - an orchard full of free fruits with no one to stop you.

Off you’d went, the mischievous, little delinquents that you were, tiptoeing out of your houses after lunch when all admonishing adults were lost deep in their midday siestas. Leveraging the catch in the wall, you’d scrambled into the orchard and scampered off under the security of the shade, ready to sink your teeth into someone else’s bounty.

“That’s a dumb idea.” You didn’t need to stop or turn his way to tell that the only thing Changbin could achieve with his idea would be a colossal failure when you heard a pause in his footsteps.

“What’s dumb is your outfit,” He shot back without lifting his eyes from the heap of dried leaves and fallen twigs that had been swept to a nook in the buttress roots of a rather large tree.

“You’re one to speak.” Changbin was the image of utter comedy in your eyes, wearing a comically large t-shirt over a pair of shorts one size too tight for him, no doubt hand-me-downs from his cousins. After all, what would a summer family reunion be without the ritualistic passing down of elders’ outgrown clothes to the youngers? But you didn’t fare any better. “Besides, it’s not my fault that my mother wants me to ‘connect with my roots’,” You huffed. Your mother made you dress modestly here, lest her family comment on the city culture that was apparently tarnishing your traditions. Dolled up in a kurti and a long skirt, only the embroidered dupatta you’d stolen from your aunt redeemed for your otherwise cumbersome attire.

“Whatever,” He mumbled absently, twirling a twig between his fingers. “Just wait and watch.”

You did neither, continuing down the trodden path as you adjusted your glasses to scan the dark, glossy leaves overhead for fruits within reach. The trees were regularly spaced every ten feet or so, teeming with mangoes that hung in bunches high up. Neither Changbin nor you had a stature worth bragging about; you were just two awkward midgets who’d have to step up a few branches to reach even the lowest of the heavy hanging fruits.

Secretly, you liked the way that would always play out.

It would start with the firm hold of his hands on your waist, hoisting you until you caught onto a branch. Your flimsy skirt wouldn’t offer your knees much protection against the rough, ant ridden wood as you’d scramble to mount it, Changbin’s hands hovering cautiously until he’d be convinced you were ready to help him up. His crayon fingers would dig into your clammy palms, face scrunched with effort that would only relax with a sigh of relief once he’d be seated beside you, knees bumping into each other’s as your legs would swing in a platonic cadence.

Of the whole mango thievery experience, this was the part that made your heart race the most. So, a twinge of disappointment coloured your frowning lips when you saw that Changbin seemed to be inclined towards a different plan this time.

“I said wait!” He called from behind in his typical whinging tone, only to evoke a defiant snicker out of you. You switched to a brisker pace with the sole intent of annoying him. “Hey! Don’t go so fast! You’ll stub your toe on a rock and fall on your butt if you don’t wait for me, I’m telling you!” He warned, finally rising from his crouched position.

You couldn’t resist sticking your tongue out at him before you broke into a sprint. The scenery around you blurred in motion as your bare feet pounded the grassy ground, one hand lifting your skirt while the other held onto your dupatta. Luckily for you, it seemed that the area had been pruned recently - barely any pebbles caught in your feet, though the grass did tickle you. But your focus was directed on outrunning the short, skittish boy chasing you.

It was so easy to irk Changbin, so easy to elicit his grumpy wails of complaint and adorable scowls, to urge him into this frivolous game of chase. A hearty laugh bubbled in your chest as you chanced a glance behind, sneering at his flushed face as he brandished the stick in his hand in a way that, you supposed, was meant to be threatening. His torrent of threats drowned in ripples of giggles and squeals as he began to catch up with you, startlingly quicker than you’d imagined. After all, he wasn’t the one hindered by a flowy outfit. Just when you’d expected his arms to close around your waist in the dizzying way they always do, you felt a light pull at your braid. When you turned, it was too late.

An impish grin adorned Changbin’s face as he held up the hair tie he’d slipped out of your hair. “Wait, no- ” You pulled off your glasses - they had fogged from the run - and leapt at his blurry figure, trying to snatch it out of his hands. He hid it behind his back and sidestepped you, moving out of your range of reach.

“Bin, my hair’s oily, I can’t leave it open!” You pleaded. Your grandmother had a peculiar passion for oiling your hair every other night, and today was just one of those days when you’d been too lazy to wash up in the morning, leaving you with a greasy mop of hair drenched to the roots in amla oil, barely tamed into a braid.

But Changbin refused any empathy towards you or your hair. “‘My hair’s oily’,” he mimicked you in a nasal voice, adding, “Nope, you’re not getting it back! It’s mine now!” Mischief radiated from his sparkly eyes and scrunched nose and the high pitched giggles he let out at your distress. “Besides, I like it better this way,” he said, gesturing to your hair. You would’ve swooned at the scintilla of sincerity that peaked through his taunt, if not for your untangling braid that threatened to curtain your face in oily locks.

“Changbin.” You spoke carefully, enunciating his whole name with a low voice and a pointed stare as you tied your dupatta at the waist, the sternest equivalent of rolling up your sleeves you could imitate in this attire. “Give. It. Back!”

And yet, Changbin’s response to the most intimidating front you could’ve put up was of nonchalance and disregard, complete with an exaggerated eye roll. “Oh, calm down! You don’t look that ugly.”

“Excuse me-”

“Leave your hair be.” He brushed you off with a dismissive wave. “I want to try something first, watch this.”

“What- Oh goodness! It’s not going to work, Changbin, I’ve told you - it’s a dumb idea!” You splayed your arms and stomped your feet like a toddler throwing a tantrum, miffed with his antics. But your words fell to deaf ears as a beaming Changbin carried on with his - might you add, utterly foolish and entirely useless - plan. The stick he’d picked was shaped like a Y, and with your trusty hair tie, Changbin aspired to put together a makeshift slingshot. Fruitlessly ambitious, in your humble opinion - quite literally, you’d say.

“We won’t have to climb the trees then, it’ll be much easier with this.” He tried to persuade you. Not that it worked, you weren’t convinced in the slightest. But all the summers spent together had acquainted you with Changbin’s tenacity enough to know his dogged determination wouldn’t let up until he went through with it.

A huff of resignation left your lips. Arms crossed above your chest, you tilted your head in a way that said ‘Prove it’. Changbin didn’t stand down. Producing a marble out of his pocket, he stretched your hair tie as far as it would go and locked the target, taking in a deep breath and exhaling as he let go. The marble flew a few feet before dropping at an unimpressive, rather embarrassing distance, not even making it as far as the tree.

The shade of defeat suited quite awkwardly to his beefy body. The urge to iterate your triumph was nearly irresistible, but you settled for a cocky smirk that spelled out ‘I told you so’ as you held out an open palm. Lips curled in a grumpy grimace, Changbin gave you the stink eye as he relinquished your hair tie.

“Why are you looking at me like it’s my fault?” A gleeful laugh tinted with a noise of complaint left your lips at his expense, pushing him deeper into sulky mode.

“It is your fault.” He humphed. “Why do you roam around wearing cheap hair bands, huh? Spend money, buy branded ones.” He pursed his lips in a petulant pout, turning away from you.

“Oh, please. Why don’t you get me some yourself, then?” You muttered as you attempted to gather your hair into a bun - the braid was beyond salvaging at this point and you had too little dexterity to redo it the way your aunt did it for you.

“I might as well.” You heard him say faintly, still not facing you as he waited for the mortification to wash away.

“Wait, did you just concede to buying me a gift?” You popped your face right in front of his, taking him aback with this sudden invasion of personal space. “Who are you and what have you done with Changbin the cheapskate?” You poked him in the way that vexed him most, a reaction which brought you the purest joy; a repeated tap, tap, tap of your index finger on his upper arm, waiting for the delight of them bouncing back from the squishy skin. Only, this time came a surprise as they touched rather firm and shapely muscles. Since last Summer, you noted mutely, Changbin had grown a lot. It brought heat to your already flushed cheeks.

“Excuse me, Miss Imma-Buy-Cute-Things-That-I-Don’t-Need! I’m not buying you any gifts. It’s an investment. It’ll actually reap fruits next time,” He scoffed, before adding, “And I’m not a cheapskate!”

You were ready to contest that claim but your snarky arguments fizzled out on the tip of your tongue - a quick movement in the periphery of your vision distracted you.

What happened next was a blur.

Thwack!

Looking back at it, you weren’t able to tell a thing from another except the throbbing presence of a dull ache rippling throughout your head. It arrested your senses in a moment of numbness before you could even register what had conspired.

Did something just hit you?

Involuntarily, your arms tensed and your fists flew overhead a moment too late, clenched as you cowered to brace yourself from whatever could come next. Eyes squeezed shut, scrunching like tight screws till everything became darker and slower - you were blacking out.

“... Y/N.”

You were unthinking, immobile. The heavy thrumming in your eardrums was the delirious beating of your heart pounding louder and louder. It was a heavy veil over your senses making everything else seem dull.

“Y/N!”

A yell made its way over the chaos in your head. You couldn’t clearly register it, but the resonant ring of urgency clawed at you as you tried to surface from the haze you had been stupefied into.

“RUN!”

When your eyes snapped open, the only thing you could discern was the panic in Changbin’s pale face and frantic touch. You were still frozen, mirroring his frightful look until he was grabbing at you and the next moment, you found yourself being pulled along with him as he ran.

It was a mad, mad rush. Even as Changbin held your hand in a vice grip, it wasn’t easy to keep up with him, especially in your disoriented state. He managed to steer you clear of the many roots and heaps of fallen twigs and anything else that you could trip on. But when your now muddied skirt and hazy vision made you stumble more than once, it was only Changbin’s firm grasp that kept you upright and running. From what? You still didn’t know. But you trusted Changbin.

That wasn’t to say you weren’t curious; if anything, your state of bafflement fueled your curiosity. So, in a flash of daring, you looked over your shoulder. Squinting through your bleary sight, all you could make out was a brown blob hurtling towards you at a speed faster than you were running from it. A whimper caught in your throat as you turned, trying to fathom the vague shape you saw, and that’s when you realised -

“Shit!” You brought your free hand over your eyes, confirming your suspicion. “I dropped my glasses somewhere, Bin!” You managed to speak through your panting but Changbin didn’t respond - if he heard you, that is. “Bin, we need to go back!” You tugged at his hand, squeezing your fingers that were entwined in his. He just squeezed back harder. “CHANGBIN-”

“IT WAS THE MONKEY!” He let out a shaky shriek. “The monkey stole your glasses!”

What?

“Came out of nowhere!” He sounded afraid and panicky and, like a contagion, the same emotions began bubbling in your chest too. “It jumped on your head and took off with your glasses - Geez! You were there too, you saw it happen!”

You were stumped. “ ��Took off’ - then why is it chasing us?”

“Ask the monkey that!” Changbin yelled. He looked behind and you did too, now more cautious than curious. The brown blob - the monkey - was gaining on you. Cursing under his breath, Changbin sped up and your entangled hands forced you to match his pace. “I looked at it and it snarled and it tried to pounce on me!”

“Oh, my.” You let out a shaky whimper. Fear and exertion doused you in a cold sweat. It pooled in the dip in your neck, eventually slipping in between your clammy fingers. Changbin’s grasp faltered. Anxiety doubled over you, but then he let go of your hand entirely before briskly grabbing your wrist in a bruising grip that lent a much needed sense of security.

You didn’t dare look back again, keeping your eyes trained ahead. An escape appeared in the form of a rusty turnstile, the only visible outlet in the brick wall that lined the perimeter of the orchard. The fencing wouldn’t be a hindrance to the monkey - it could as easily chase you outside the orchard too - but surely, the stick wielding guards flanking the dilapidated gate would offer protection.

“HEY!” Changbin was a loud and whiny kid of much repute (not the good kind) and as much as your parents would use him as a bad example, you’d always racked your mind for any argument that would work as a clapback in Changbin’s defence. “GUARDS!” Right now, a rush of admiration overcame you, followed by the urge to rub it in your parents’ faces that his ‘bad manners’ kept you safe. Oh, the satisfaction of having your parents reluctantly approve of your best friend - Hang on. Your parents could never know - should never know. They’d be furious.

And so would the guards, you realised as you neared the gate. The closer you got, the clearer you could make out their expressions. Initial confusion morphed into fury, and you almost considered running off in another direction when you saw them pick up their sticks before noticing that you didn’t fall in their line of sight. They were looking further. The monkey. Of course. Warding off monkeys was more of a priority than reprimanding thieving teens.

“Changbin!” You called, trying to convey the plan to him before you’d come within the guards’ earshot. “We have to run off before they return. They’ll tell on us!” What you’d gathered from your mother’s recollections was that everyone knew everyone in small towns, as if they had everybody’s entire biodata memorised like the back of their hands. Thank goodness you weren’t a local, else there’d be no hiding this from your parents. “Got it?” If it wasn’t for the barely audible grunt of acknowledgement, you would’ve thought he didn’t hear you.

The guards whizzed past you, charging at the monkey as they waved their sticks, yelling at them in their native tongue. You could only make out a few words, but you figured the majority of their speech translated into crass variants of “Get away!” When you heard the monkey screech in response, you shut your eyes. Changbin’s hold made sure you didn’t stop in your tracks, but a sudden turn he took made you flash open your eyes. “Bin, the exit-” You couldn’t even put words to your confusion before Changbin pulled you to a halt in front of the perimeter wall, further away from the turnstile. Without skipping a beat, his hands found purchase on your waist in a practised choreography. Except, this wasn’t in the shade of a deciduous canopy that would shelter your ministrations. This was out in the open - without any spectators, thankfully; the guards were still preoccupied chasing away the monkey - but still enough to make you feel sheepish, despite the predicament you were in.

“Swing your leg over it, quick!” He instructed once you were perched on the narrow wall. You made quick work of it. Seated with one leg on either side of the wall, you didn’t need Changbin to tell you to offer him your hand; it was the obvious next step. The wall was crumbly but there were no nooks for Changbin to place his feet into. His entire weight was yours to pull and as you did, a fall became inevitable.

“Ouch!” You exclaimed. Changbin whined on top of you. Crushed between him and the unyielding ground, you felt pain shoot through your spine before little stabs exploded all over. The wall was barely a foot taller than you, but with the way you fell headfirst and with Changbin’s weight propelling you, you had imagined nothing less than a cracked skull. Well, maybe that was too dramatic. But the lack of symptoms of a looming concussion was somehow more worrisome than the existing pain.

Changbin stirred, a string of grunts and groans limning the effort it took to heave himself off you. He barely rose before crumpling to the ground right next to you. “Shit.”

“Why did we just do this?” You groaned. The pain felt less severe now, but Changbin lying motionless next to you only fueled your urge to bask in the moment a bit longer.

“They won’t be able to find us here.” He forced out between heavy breaths.

“And here is…?”

“Good question.”

There was a pause. It lingered uncomfortably. It was the silence before the storm, and the storm came in the shape of your fist punching his arm. Changbin screamed bloody murder, making you retreat your hand to cover your ears, elbowing him nonetheless. “What the hell, Changbin?”

“OKAY, OKAY! I may not know where we are, but I made sure we’re safe, at least!”

“You call this safe? I nearly died!”

“Oh, shut up, you drama queen.” He made to pull his hand to himself and when you felt it slide from beneath your head, the absence of a headache started to make perfect sense. A fuzzy feeling swaddled you and Changbin’s “Let’s get going” did a great job slicing through it. Having taken umbrage at your jab, he was determined to find your way home to prove his point. His point being… something that escaped you. But it was cute, his steely look, so you played along and followed his lead.

The sun was no longer at its zenith, hovering lower in the sky as it bathed the town in shades of pink and gold. People had emerged from their houses once again, the streets filling in as Changbin and you wandered like vagrants. You would ask someone for directions but ‘nani’s haveli’ was the only address you knew. Besides, Changbin was adamant that you didn’t need help, that he knew where he was going despite being caught reciting eeny meeny miny moe under his breath at the fork - he denied that allegation, insisting that he was actually reciting his evening prayers since he was “a man of principles”.

By the time you stumbled upon your home, your feet were aching and your kurta was awkwardly patchy with sweat, thinly veiled under your dupatta. The sun was barely peeking from the horizon when you greeted your mother, who settled for telling you off with a look of disdain that bounced off your thick skin as you headed for the shower. It was when you went to dry your towels on the terrace that the last rays of the sun were disappearing into the darkness, which brung with it weak flashes of dancing lights as the first swarm of fireflies trickled out of their retreats.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” The haveli next door was separated by a low stone wall but in the convoluted ways of ancient architecture, the two buildings met at the top and merged into a single terrace, subtly demarcated by a badminton net. Peering through the nylon mesh, Changbin chirped, “They’ve just begun to come in. Do you know what that means?” His eyes gleamed. If it was merely the reflection of the fireflies or pure mischief ablaze, you didn’t know, nor did you care. All you cared for was the way it made your heart race, and the way you wanted this moment to go on forever, the way you wanted this summer to go on forever. “The night’s still young.”

And in those four words, you found your forever in the last moments you’d spent with your summer sweetheart.

#stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fanfic #changbin #changbin imagines #changbin scenarios #skz #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #changbin x reader

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worldweary-walker · 8 months ago

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So the very first panel of this does something that the game is very fond of- understandable, because it's an excellent writing technique: Kim (or someone else) says something that is, itself, fairly straightforward, despite how much you can read into it: "Hell does not exist." This is followed by something more philosophical, but still straightforward: "Only you exist." The third line, the punchline, is just that- a punch to the gut. "Verdict: Hell Is You."

Though it starts the comment, our understanding of the characters leads us to believe that Kim's statement is in response to something deranged that Harry says. In the art, Kim has a very present halo- a halo that surrounds him distantly, is fractured. That might only be to frame him as distant, imposing, an artistic choice that works damn well- but you can read something more in it. It looks, in that panel, like Kim is bleeding on his chest, and around his eyes.

In the second panel, I don't recognize the first half but centered is the fan, and hanging down from it is an iconic character from the game- a Horrible one. The necktie, in the image, is colored like blood; so are the letters. The impetus is clear: a tie (heh) to Harry's self-hate.

"It is real because you are," the third panel says. The box obscures Harry's face. The text is the color blue, blue is the color of grief- Harry's grief is real because he is. It is the cause, philosophically speaking, of his memory loss. His loss is his cope with his grieving.

The fourth panel, the second comic, is practically a poem on its own. I especially like the phrase "a man unlacquered." Harry DuBois has lost his shine; Harry Dubois has lost the coating of transparency that shields him. Saltwater has a corrosive effect on the finish of wood. I don't know about alcohol, but that probably isn't good for it either. The meaning, of course, is obvious- Harry has stripped away the shielding in himself, has stripped away himself, in a wash of alcohol and seawater (and, possibly, the Pale.)

There's a second meaning, too, however- Harry has stripped the shine of him away, but it turns out there's Harry that remains. "Spat back out in its whorl." The tide did not consume him. He could not kill himself with alcohol. The sea, metaphor and literal (recall the motorcarriage?) could not kill him. He abandoned himself, but has found himself stuck with the body. "A tidal-colossal nucleic rejection." (I'm probably missing something in the meaning of that phrase.)

Third comic, fifth panel! I have no idea what's happening in the background. The main part is clear enough though- Harry bemoaning his failure to commit suicide. (The necktie is Horrible for a reason. It was hanging from the fan. It's a damn good thing Harry couldn't stand up straight.)

Fourth comic, panels 6-8! Lot of blood in this one. "Hematic fluid," "Primordial pit to primordial pit," really emphasizing the themes of loss and forgetfulness. The text isn't subtle about it either: "a puncture of color against the whiteness of snow." The memories that Harry has lost, the ones that he recalls, mean very little against the vastness of the Pale. (I can't comment on the significance of "Dolores Fucking Dei," unfortunately.)

Fifth one, single panel- Harry is weeping. He has many such breakdowns in the game, he is a weeping man of habit forced to rediscover what he's lost. The significance of this one is that he is not alone. He weeps, for what he's lost, again and again and again, he offers to leave first so his partner isn't hurt by it. Kim will have none of it- he says, "I'm here." He is. He's holding Harry.

It's really poignant and sad and I don't have as much to say about it because it's not as symbolically dense as the others but asbdu asbuiheicuuiwhvuichewuivb. Agh. Good comics.

The last comic... just like in the first one, Kim is haloed. The halo is not fractured and imposing, this time: it is an anchor, solid around him. He's looking up, the halo's spiked as in surprise- but it is Kim, and the halo seems warm rather than threatening. The red is prominent. The text says "do they glow as her innocence did?" This disguises a double meaning. Her Innocence is Dolores Dei; she, the innocent one, Harry's ex-wife, he speaks of often. Dolores Dei was said to glow, specifically her lungs- and, at times, there are implications she was a robot. Halogen glow. Kim is someone holy to Harry- he does not have a halogen glow. "Instead, a sunrise." Kim smokes, just once a day, at the end of things. Meeting Kim is the beginning of something new. Smoke goes in the lungs. "Instead, a sunrise." His hands, something that Harry comments on, are prominent.

ASJDKHHSAS JFHAFH this art is so cool and I've covered everything I noticed about it but I'm sure there's a lot more bc I do Not have a good head for lore and I've tried to draw connections where I can but this is so dense with symbolism I'm insane about it. The artist is incredible, the poet is incredible, this is incredible and damn good work. Props to them, props to y'all, I'm gonna go scream about it.

tw topics of suicidal ideation. self harm.

#commentary #For Later #analysis #AAAAAAAAH time to go stick my head in a bucket

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billconrad · 6 months ago

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A Writing Setback

You may recall a recent article discussing a YouTube video that trashed the movie Men in Black International. I chose to write about this criticism not because I disliked the movie but because the review revealed a significant plot problem in one of my books.

youtube

What about the people who were part of that movie? I bet they were not impressed with that YouTube video. But it was not always that way. They were optimistic at the film’s launch and felt crushed when it did not perform. The YouTube video added to their anguish by explicitly describing the film’s failures. To add insult to injury, the video generated a profit for the YouTube creator, but the movie failed to make a profit.

Well, everybody involved in the film moved on. Hopefully, they will learn from their mistakes, and their following projects will be better. In life, the painful lessons are often the most important.

In another article, I confessed that writing these articles is a form of low-budget therapy. So… Time to eat some crow. This article is going to be “open therapy.” Four days ago, I received edits from a professional editor. They included a detailed report on several issues. I have severe plot, character, logic, and grammar problems. To make matters worse, they were fundamental issues that were difficult to fix without a total rewrite. To further pile on the pain, I now know these flaws were also present in my other books.

This mountain of criticism was a lot to confront, and I stopped self-editing for a few days to reflect. I was depressed, and it is now challenging to write this article, and editing has become a miserable chore.

I again viewed the Men in Black International YouTube video and wondered what the people who were part of the movie thought about the criticism. I suspect having flaws publicly pointed out was much worse because the result was very public. Having my flaws pointed out by one person was the only bright spot in my sea of self-pity.

I have had many setbacks during my writing adventure and even considered closing this chapter in my life. (Ha, a writing joke!) I often remind myself that a primary life goal is to start a business, and writing takes much away from that effort.

Looking in the mirror and seeing the face of failure is difficult. “Your best is not good enough.” Of course, it is easy to deny my problems. I do not have an English degree; writing is not my career, and I went into this project knowing I would never be able to compete with the great authors.

That’s enough self-pity. How am I going to salvage this situation? I have failed many times in my life and unquestioningly developed a recovery technique. I will gather all the information, analyze it, and form a plan. Sometimes, I talk to people about the issue but typically hunker down and work on my problems in solitude. Hence, I took a bike ride today. Yes, it helped.

For this problem, I will fix what can be fixed and ignore the other issues. The main criticism concerns my weak characters and plot. There is not a lot I can do about that. Learn from my mistakes and try harder in the future. After all, this is life, and it is reasonable to expect issues, failures, and colossal setbacks.

An author writes the story they want to tell. It might be pretentious, arrogant, weak, and unrealistic. However, my story came from my heart, and I based the characters on people I have met. On my bike ride, I came to a conclusion. After all that stuff the editor pointed out, I still like my plot and characters. They mean something to me; if I can make that happen with only one other person, I have succeeded.

I certainly appreciate my core flaws. The identified flaws will take a lot of work to fix, but I never give up on a dream without a fight, even if the dream is unrealistic.

You’re the best -Bill

November 01, 2024

Hey book lovers, I published four. Please check them out:

Interviewing Immortality. A dramatic first-person psychological thriller that weaves a tale of intrigue, suspense, and self-confrontation.

Pushed to the Edge of Survival. A drama, romance, and science fiction story about two unlikely people surviving a shipwreck and living with the consequences.

Cable Ties. A slow-burn political thriller that reflects the realities of modern intelligence, law enforcement, department cooperation, and international politics.

Saving Immortality. Continuing in the first-person psychological thriller genre, James Kimble searches for his former captor to answer his life’s questions.

These books are available in soft-cover on Amazon and eBook format everywhere.

#writing #life experiences #editing #Youtube

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goddamnwebcomics · 1 year ago

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I talked about this before, but it still feels blatantly disingenuous. I mean, Jon tried spinning it to him having a realization about the seriousness of writing a bully character and its affects on his audience back then, but I called bull to that (not directly since I was being nice about it) considering he spent a decade writing one (you already know who I’m referring to) as a primary bully antagonist before deciding to put her on an actual redemption story. Like, this guy should already know the “attachments” people get to bully characters portrayed in media. He’s a victim of bullying himself, so it’s not like he didn’t know this already.

No. It became pretty clear to me that Tracy’s whole bully persona that Jon wrote and planned for originally had become an inconvenience for him when he decided to make Peter & Whitney, with the mouse being reintroduced with the personality actually based on the real-life version of Tracy. But he was still getting negative comments around her in both comics due to her first appearance in Peter & Company, so he decided to softly but abruptly end that part of her in both comics to save his own butt and “convince” others that she’s redeemed.

Yeah, it bears repeating but the way Tracy has been handled has just been a colossal failure in both comics. I don’t know what else to add to that what you just said.

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5targrrl · 2 years ago

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⸺⠀🕯️³ 5TARGRRL / WRITEBLR INTRO.jpg

Hey babes! The name's ALEX (she/her) and I'm an 18yr old P.R. lesbian located in the U.S. (gmt-5). I'm a indecisive, hot mess of a writer who's been writing for around seven years now. Which is an embarrassing fact considering I have yet to finish a first draft *sobs*. I write in multiple genres but tend to gravitate towards darker content, dark academia? Horror? Thrillers? sign me tf up, I'm drooling. I love me a good trope and some of my favorites include found family, enemies to lovers, mutual pining and emotionally constipated characters who are secret softies.

⸺⠀MY PROJECTS.txt

" WE WERE LAMBS - adult sci - fi surrealism horror novel.

WHEN DORIAN STAROSTA is arrested alongside three of his old childhood bestfriends for the murder of his mother, Dorian's world begins to crumble all around him. After being sentenced to life in prison, the four are given the opportunity to participate in a brutal virtual-reality game. If won, their criminal records will be wiped, but if they lose? They are guaranteed to die a slow, tortuous death. With nothing left to lose, they begrudingly accept. Dorian Starosta is many things but a murderer is not one of them, and he is desperate to prove that.

" IDLE TOWN - ya contemporary romance novel.

THE SUMMER OF 1998 for Vincent Callaghan is already what you would call a colossal disaster. but the news that his ex - bestfriend Jude Navarro will be returning to Harmont for the annual surf camp, the very camp Vincent’s been forced to help run, is the perfect, rotten cherry on top. Battling the stress of upcoming graduation, his band, and dealing with Jude’s attempts at rekindling their lost friendship, Vincent is ready to sign this summer off a complete failure, because there's no way this can turn around, right?

⸺⠀ENDING CREDITS.txt

Thats all folks! Thank you for so much for reading. I'm always looking for new friends so totally don't hesitate to reach out / interact. Have a great one <3

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emersonfreepress · 2 years ago

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Sorry if you've answered this already but, what does the nerve stat mean? What lowers/increases it? Will there be any consequences if it's too low or high? Cheers :)

I don't think I have! Honestly, it's still a bit of a work in progress, along with the Remorse, Stress, and Thrill stats. I think going over them all should give you an idea of what I'm trying to do with them, but they're very subject to change.

Stress - pretty straightforward: stressful shit increases Stress 😆 High Stress can fuck up your execution of certain choices and will be noticed by other characters in day-to-day life. New Kid's Stress goes down when they engage with their hobby, when something good happens to them, or in positive social interactions with the ROs or their family.

Remorse - also pretty obvious: feeling bad feels bad! Expressing guilt or regret over your crimes and immoral actions increases Remorse. Compassionate MCs can gain more Remorse than Cutthroat MCs over certain things. I think this stat will also be relevant if I decide to make all action choices available during Missions... like instead of blocking off a particularly cruel choice for MCs with high Compassion, they would still be able to do it but they'd take on a bunch of Remorse. I haven't decided all of the situations that Remorse on its own can impact yet, but I imagine the success of attempting some out-of-character monster shit when your Remorse is already high would be a disaster 🥰🥰

Thrill - Relishing in your crimes and manipulations. This one's very much in development (like, in the earliest prep portion lol I don't even got the seasoning out yet) because it needs to be included, but I'm not interested in writing a colossally destructive or gleefully violent killer MC. Thrill is meant to relate to all actions that significantly go against the law or societal expectations. So obviously your Thrill can increase due to how you react in Missions but doing shit like sneaking out to a punk show with Rupan/Rohan (one way you can spend Halloween 🥰) would also increase it. I once had it as an opposing variable with Remorse, but that doesn't feel right since Thrill doesn't have to be directly tied to cruelty and evil.

Nerve - Finally! It's the ability to successfully carry out difficult or complicated actions despite external distractions or personal feelings. High Nerve is great if you are, for example, trying to get your Compassionate MC with High Remorse to do something terrible. You would still be able to try with low or decent Nerve, but with a chance of mixed results or failure. However, having high Nerve in a situation where all of the normal people in the room are freaking the fuck out? It's not necessarily a bad thing... but it does stand out.

These kinds of variables could probably be applied to things like artistic or academic performance too, but so far I really want to stick to applying them to social interaction and criminal activities only. Keep it consistent with the game's stakes. There should be no debate about the New Kid's talent, but their morality should always be in flux.

ok i talked way too much about this bye!!

#hope that answers the question?#if it helps #i think of kile as having high thrill and gabe as having high nerve #lovely anon #answered #mechanics #nice to finally get that all typed out in a succinct way lol

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sonofthesaiyans · 3 years ago

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Most USELESS AOT Character

I already said my piece on the alliance this week, and there’s a lot of reasons to hate it for the fact that we have the series’ original protagonists aligning with and forgiving the worst war criminals in the story, the ones who caused Eren to initiate his cataclysm upon the world. And I’m sure the reasons for why the alliance is so heavily mocked don’t there.

But the dishonor of being the most useless member still goes to Gabi Braun.

Literally the ONLY thing Gabi does for the goddamned alliance, something that only became “necessary” in part due to her own actions in provoking Eren.

Yeah, Gabi shot Floch. Possibly the only character to have fewer fans, I might assume. But for someone who is the subject of all those tacky “FAZE” memes on Twitter and elsewhere, the little shit didn’t make it count in the ONE moment where she actually was justified in shooting a gun.

Isayama was never shy about his malicious intentions or his many, many plot contrivances and this is just another instance of such. Gabi shot Floch in defense of the ship carrying the seaplane. Which may have bought the group time to escape, but her failure to land a fatal shot on the son of a bitch still resulted in him sabotaging the plane in his suicidal assault on the alliance, which in turn led to Hange Zoe senselessly sacrifcing herself for time the plane didn’t have anyway........Making this little bitch indirectly responsible for Hange’s death. ON TOP OF SASHA’S.

I cannot comprehend why people enjoy Isayama’s writing, if a guy needs to produce that many coinciding moments between characters and subplots to move his worthless final arc forward, maybe he’s not what he’s cracked up to be. Gabi just very coincidentally hits Sasha after boarding the blimp shortly after their first encounter, she just HAPPENS to run into Sasha’s family, which is still an enormously offensive subplot by the way......she just HAPPENS to miss the second-worst Yeagerist when she’s never missed before......And boom, she’s got the blood of not one, but TWO of the show’s best girls on her hands.

And it doesn’t get any better for Gabi after this, Falco is the one pulling all their weight between the two of them and Gabi is still the worst equipped to fight Eren or the Colossals under his command, because one fucking rifle ain’t got jackshit on people trained specifically to kill Titans, even less on the Ackermans who are practically bred for that purpose. Not to mention the other Titan Shifters, Falco included.

So all of this buildup with Gabi and a very ill-advised “redemption” arc just so she could shoot the second biggest douchebag on the show and miss. We lost Sasha just so she could continually screw up repeatedly in her attempts to stop the Rumbling.

Sorry, but shooting Floch is NOT enough to validate all the focus on Gabi. And it is nowhere near enough to redeem her of her crimes. At this stage, CONNIE FUCKING SPRINGER was more of an asset to the team than this little shit. Yeah, I went there. Quote me on that if you like.

And let me be straight up with you people, even in a series about child soldiers, do you honestly take the image of a twelve-year old with a sniper rifle twice her size in her hand seriously? Are we supposed to rally to her side, is that supposed to be badass?

There’s no debating how overpowered Gabi is when lined up with everyone who has years on her combat experience. There is no way she should have walked away so cleanly when she repeatedly threw herself in the path of death.

And if you are still not convinced of how insulting her actual role in this story is, here’s a tidbit from those morons on CBR.com. https://www.cbr.com/attack-on-titan-gabi-best-sniper/ TOTALLY NOT A SASHA REPLACEMENT. Except even CBR thinks she is, and yeah. That seems to be the only reason she’s here. And I’m not fucking okay with that. There’s no valid reason why Sasha isn’t here for the final act.

Instead of giving Sasha her all, Isayama gives it all to some nobody from out of nowhere who never even receives the Armored Titan she was banking on getting. That at least would be something but no, we just got a twelve-year old given bullshit excuse after bullshit excuse for why she shouldn’t die in a story where she causes a disproportionate number of problems for the main cast.

She simply doesn’t do enough to make up for her most infamous action. And nobody is really willing to acknowledge her part in Hange’s own death. Girl who “never misses” until the moment where her skill, SASHA’S SKILL, needed to count for every shot. Literally.

So sorry Hajime Isayama. but after all this time you spent building up Gabi as the ace in the hole, I’m NOT buying it.

There is no Attack on Titan without Sasha or Hange.

Also, we need an “anti snk 132″ tag. Someone please make one official.

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nichoberri · 4 years ago

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when reality blows up in your face (literally)

chapter 1- ‘that damned potion’

member- heeseung

word count- 1.1k

warnings- none

a/n- I’VE FINALLY WRITTEN IT AFTER A MASSIVE BREAK FROM WRITING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! but it’s not very long and probably horribly written. this is my first scenario in my fairytale au ‘series’; i’m very excited for this. the first scenarios for each member will be setting up their character and their situation, and later scenarios will get into their actual journeys. well i hope so anyways ahaha. so anyways, i hope at least one person enjoys this <333

in which heeseung is an apprentice at Wendlyn’s apothecary; he’s good at everything, well almost everything. he just can��t seem to perfect one particular potion, which leads him on a journey to discover his true abilities...

KABOOM!! electric blue explosions seemed to pause the dreary weather for half a second, before the granite clouds continued their miserable performance, as pitiful rain came back into view. at the back of the quaint apothecary, a frustrated and slightly singed heeseung sighed in defeat, as he loosely held the remnants (literally one shard of glass) of a conical flask in between his thumb and forefinger which was dripping in blood. it had failed again; another one of heeseung’s attempts at making that damned reality shifting potion, which was meant to be a swirling bright blue liquid, usually allowing people to teleport to different realities when ingested. in heeseung’s case, the potion merely exploded, shaking every shop on the main street. every. single. time. the poor boy was sick and tired of his failure, yet hope still managed to bloom in his chest that he may succeed even after countless attempts. after all, the explosion was the right colour this time, much to heeseung’s bewilderment. however, as quickly as the feeling of joy flashed into his heart, it was swept away just as fast, by the remembrance that he had to clean the entire shop as well as the insane amount of mess he had created.

eventually, an exhausted heeseung gave the swinging sign above the doorway, which read ‘the hidden universe apothecary: helping with your aches and ailments since 1346’, one last lick of paint, before he could clock off for the day without a scolding from his younger yet surprisingly professional boss. the young apprentice snatched up is bag and tattered cloak, locked up the apothecary and set off trudging to pay for the light damages to baker’s across the street, which had been hit by the colossal explosion just a couple of hours earlier. after the awkward yet fairly friendly exchange with the kind baker boy, heeseung traipsed back to the cramped two-bedroom house he shared with his mother, who sold woven goods from their home.

as soon as the lanky boy stepped a foot onto the flagstone of the dimly lit living room, his mother looked up at him over the brim of her rounded spectacles and chided with a slight eye roll, that heeseung did indeed see, “i’m guessing by the smell of burning emitting from you and the ash all over your face, that you failed that potion yet again.”

“it was the correct colour this time though,” heeseung retorted, turning his nose up, “a blinding electric blue in fact.”

“well at least there’s been some improvement to your efforts, but what would your grandfather say if he saw you struggling so much to perfect the reality shifting potion that he mastered at the age of twelve. then again, it’s his absence that has meant you have gone without proper training for so many years.”

“if he would be that disappointed, it’s a good thing he’s been buried for god knows how many years then isn’t it?” heeseung snapped, as his mother gave him a disapproving scowl. she knew how hard it was for her son to try to live up to the name of the great merlin, his grandfather; and it irritated her as much as heeseung, that he could not grasp the manufacturing of the ancient potion. “i’m sorry to nag all of the time my son, but you’re an absolute ace at everything you’ve ever set your heart on doing, so it hurts me to see you struggle so much,” she exclaims apologetically. at hearing his mother’s sweet words, heeseung approaches his mother and bends down to engulf her into a tight hug, just like he did when he was a child. “i’m sorry mother, i guess all of the added pressure has got to me, but i’m going to succeed. i’ll try with all of my might. in fact, i’ve been planning to seek out some of my grandfather’s friends, both students and teachers of his, in order to improve my magic skills. if you would let me of course.” the middle-aged woman in front of him blinked, trying to process what her son had proposed, but after a minute she spoke up again, “of course you can go sweetheart, but you have to be careful, there’s a lot of evil out there, just as much as there is goodness. so if you’re setting off on this important yet dangerous journey, you will have to keep this around your neck at all times.” heeseung’s mother then produced a gleaming chunk of black jade threaded through a thin silver chain. ‘ahhhh…black jade…it helps to protect me from evil and negativity on new adventures,’ heeseung thought, as his mother roughly shoves it over his head, in turn, tousling his brown locks.

about an hour and many shed tears later, heeseung waves goodbye to his mother from the end of the garden path up to his house, promising her that he will keep safe and eat regular meals. his first stop however, is to slip a note into the apothecary to notify his boss of his plans, hoping, actually more like praying, that his boss understands, even though deep down, he knows his boss is too kind to scold him and will appreciate the apprentice’s efforts further down the line.

with that job over with, heeseung weaves his way through the streets, swinging his battered old suitcase to the beat of the wind, withhis head held high. “i’ll show everyone that i’m no dithering fool. i can master this potion and so much more. i can do this. just be confident, just be confident, JUST BE CONFIDENT,” he muttered to himself, yet the slightly crazed mantra actually rose to a yell, earning him some confused stares by some concerned villagers. gradually, he reached the entrance to the great enchanted woods which stretched out for kilometres, covering the ground with gigantic looming trees, shrouding the nearby city from both the wonders and horrors held inside. upon peering through the bars of the intricate golden gate that guarded the pitch black woods, heeseung couldn’t help but to feel a strange concoction of fear and wonder creep up into his chest, making him smile at the new adventure ahead of him.

whether the grin painted across his face was genuine or just there to mask his growing terror, he did not know, but he was sure he would be finding out soon enough.

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ourmondobongo · 4 years ago

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Idk if it's because I got late into Tumblr - and probably Hanji's analyses are many chapters/years ago to go research for it -, but I've got the slight impression we don't talk enough about Hanji Zoë...

Like, Hans is more than just some captivating "crazy" character in AOT. Hans is more than a replacement for Erwin, or worse, a"failure" shadowing him. And more than a source for any ships' content...

What I meant is that, yeah, I know I've got here late, and I know I've lost many cool stuff people definitely must have written about Hans (and I'm looking for them and I know it's my own problem lol). But I'm being genuinely sincere when I say I would like to see more Hanji, only and solely Hanji material more frequently...

And idk if it's because the more I myself write about her, the more I suffer remembering her ending...

It's just that... I miss Hans a lot. And, God, this hurts.

So If you read this and have any indications of analyses, metas, and blogs only or mostly focused on Hanji's character, I would really give you a colossal virtual hug if you could put links in the comments (or even reblog the answer in this)!!!

Thanks in advance to whoever may respond to this!

#hange zoe #hanji zoë #hange #I want more #come soon June 9th!#please - beautiful people who knows Japanese - if you can translate Yams Final Guidebook about Hans - since now I'm already thanking you!#my heroes

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ambersock · 4 years ago

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On the Edge of Forever

Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Castiel, Lucifer (Cassifer)

Summary: Sam has a plan to deal with the Darkness. Dean is definitely not going to like it.

Word Count: 4095

Warnings: Angst, Minor Sam Whump, Swearing, Sam Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues

A/N: Takes place in Season 11, after 11.10 The Devil in the Details. More notes at the end.

Now: Dean

Baby’s tires squeal in protest as Dean uses up a month of tread taking yet another turn too fast, her back-end fishtailing with only intermittent traction keeping her from spinning out. He’ll apologize to her later. Dean slams the accelerator down as he exits the curve and hits 90 on a straight section of the backwoods road on the outskirts of a town probably called Where The Fuck Are We We’re Lost. He starts to recognize landmarks from the last time he was here almost three years ago; he’s close. Not close enough.

He hurtles towards his destination, praying to who the hell knows what (because, really, there’s nothing out there that gives a shit, is there?), that he makes it in time to stop his idiot brother from doing an idiotic thing. Because he idiotically let his brother go to talk to fucking Lucifer, and of course Lucifer got inside his head. And here he is again, wracking his brain to figure out what the hell he can possibly say to convince Sam to abandon his insane plan.

Five days ago: Sam

Ever since the train wreck that was supposed to be a “safe” visit to the Cage to ask for Lucifer’s help against the Darkness, Sam has been replaying the Lucifer-guided tour of his worst fuck ups over and over on an endless loop, hoping that repetition and whiskey will numb him just a little more each time. For the hundredth time Sam curses his hubris, thinking he would even register on God’s radar, let alone that He would answer his prayers and send him visions. For the hundredth time he curses himself for being so naïve that he never suspected that the visions were just a lure from Lucifer to reel him in, break him down, and use him as a ride out of the Cage. And he hates himself for how close he had come to caving in. More than once.

On his third shot of whiskey and his umpteenth rerun through his trail of regrets, it hits Sam: within the chain of events of disaster begetting calamity begetting catastrophe, there is one moment in time where it could have easily all fallen apart. One small delay, one broken link, would cause a cascade failure and drastically alter everything that came after. He can’t help fantasizing, over and over, about all of the different little things could have happened that would have changed the entire outcome. If only.

On his fourth shot of whiskey, Sam remembers the sigil that allowed Henry Winchester to travel through time, and he huffs out a laugh.

On his fifth shot of whiskey, Sam staggers to the archive room and starts pulling books.

******

Sam continues to stare at the passages describing the Enochian time travel spell. The task he’s set himself is a flame that has both sustained him and consumed him for days on end. There’s a tree’s worth of paper covered in notes scattered across every horizontal surface, held down by mostly empty coffee mugs distributed randomly around the cramped space. His eyes are dry and red, an eyestrain headache thrums in the back of his skull, and his back is aching from being hunched over musty tomes for hours at a time attempting to deconstruct and reverse engineer the spell, to adapt it to his specific purpose. He’s not sure when he slept last, and Dean has started to give him those sideways I-know-something’s-eating-you looks which means he’s got limited time before Dean drags him out of the bunker “for his own good”. Sam forces himself to clear his mind of everything except the patterns of Enochian writing in front of him. He’s close, he thinks he’s found the right figures, he just needs to understand how to combine them with the original blood sigil. As Dean would say, he’s on the one-yard line and it’s time to push through it.

Hours later something finally clicks like a circuit closing in his brain, and suddenly the pattern of the lesser symbols within the larger whole makes sense to Sam. The solution is simple and elegant, and it’s so obvious to him now that he can’t believe he didn’t see it sooner. He adds the figures to a drawing of the original blood sigil and he knows, just knows, that this is going to work. He allows himself to luxuriate in the endorphin rush that accompanies success, the feeling that he’s about to score a win. For the first time since he threw himself into the Cage, he feels like he’s finally doing something right.

The only problem now is finding the right way to tell Dean. He’s going to need some time and distance, a head-start to get out in front of Dean’s inevitable knee-jerk reaction, because Dean is definitely not going to like this. Even if it was his idea.

Yesterday: Lucifer-wearing-Castiel

It was a stroke of luck, really, that Lucifer landed Castiel as a vessel instead of Sam as he had originally intended. Dean might have caught on to Lucifer-wearing-Sam, but it was just too easy to pass himself off as the besotted pet angel when Dean had caught him tearing through the records. A contrite little “I’m sorry Dean” coupled with a soulful look and Dean was sold. It is surprisingly so much easier to masquerade as someone else topside than it ever was in the Cage. He never could fully convince Sam that it was Dean who was carving out his organs.

Fun aside, there is now a possible monkey wrench in Lucifer’s carefully laid and, so far successful, bid for freedom. He stares at the disarray of notes decorated with Enochian symbols strewn all over the small bunker storage room by his erstwhile vessel, and can’t dismiss the growing possibility that everything is about to unravel.

“Oh Sammy-boy, what are you up to?”

His vessel has been mucking around with a time-travel sigil, and it seems like he’s pretty far along. Logically, Sam would be looking to prevent the release of the Darkness, which also certainly means undoing the events leading to the damage to the Cage that allowed Lucifer to escape. There are two lessons he files away for later: one, never speak Enochian in front of a chew toy; two, sending Sam Winchester on a guilt trip tends only results in a manic attempt on his part to fix things, which is exactly how Lucifer ended up back in the Cage the second time. He takes a moment to appreciate the irony of how tormenting Sam with his past regrets might now colossally backfire on him. He questions whether it was really worth it just to see Sam squirm like that once again, but then he can’t keep a smile of contentment from spreading across his face.

Yes, yes it was. Definitely worth it.

So now to the problem at hand: Lucifer-wearing-Castiel has other important, and definitely more amusing, things he needs to attend to, such as feeding Crowley his own intestines. But this potential threat to his plans is not something he can abide. He mulls over the merits of just disintegrating Sam—not very satisfying, but efficient—when he feels a tickle from a small, dark corner of his consciousness. He sighs in irritation.

“What do you want, Castiel?”

I believe I can help.

“Yeah, not really buying that.”

Give me five minutes, and I promise that Sam will no longer be of concern.

Lucifer is loath to cede control, but at the same time his curiosity is piqued. He can always return to Plan Disintegrate later. Or maybe he’ll think of something more entertaining while he’s waiting.

“Five minutes.”

Castiel takes out his phone and picks Dean out of his contacts. As Dean picks up, Castiel reaches for the page holding the altered blood sigil.

“Dean… I’m afraid your brother is planning to do something very foolish…”

Earlier: Dean

“You’re going to what?”

“I’m going to fix this. Fix the Darkness. I figured out a way to take Abaddon off the board in the past. No Abaddon, no Mark of Cain. No Mark, the Darkness stays locked up. Kevin lives. Charlie lives. It’s a no-brainer.”

Dean is standing in the room where Sam had been doing his clandestine research, now devoid of the notes that Castiel had described. After 17 frantic, unanswered calls to Sam, who had gone missing all night, Sam has finally called back and Dean knows that something’s seriously off. He sounds eerily upbeat, which immediately sets off Dean’s alarm bells given how shaken and preoccupied he had been after coming back from the near-disastrous visit to the virtual Cage. Whatever Sam’s planning, Dean is pretty sure he’s not going to like it, and Sam’s not exactly forthcoming with details. Either Dean needs to get Sam to spill, or he at least needs to get a trace on his phone and figure out where he is.

“Aren’t you the one who always says not to screw with time? Mothra Effect, or whatever? And if you go back and meet yourself, won’t the universe, like, explode or something?”

“Butterfly Effect. And I’m not going back, I’m sending something back. Seriously, Dean, do you really think I can possibly screw up the time line any worse than The End of Everything?”

Dean doesn’t have a good response to that, so he switches the topic to keep Sam talking. “So how, exactly, are you gonna take Abaddon out without the Mark and the First Blade? You planning to send her one of your documentary podcasts and bore her to death?”

There’s a huff of exasperation on the other end and Dean swears he can hear Sam roll his eyes. “Hilarious. Look, I’ve found another way.”

“Then tell me where you are and I’ll come help.”

Silence.

Then, “Don’t worry Dean, I’ve got this. It’s an easy spell. You should keep researching the Darkness in case this doesn’t work.”

Sam being evasive confirms that Dean has good reason to be suspicious about this plan, but the trace is still going and Dean plays for more time.

“Don’t worry? Might as well tell me not to breathe. Let me guess: you’re sending a bomb back to blow Abaddon to fucking bits so we can’t sew her head back on.”

“…Huh. Interesting idea, but there’s too much risk that I’d end up blowing up one of us. Anyway, it’s a blood spell. Whatever goes back has to be infused with DNA so that it can latch onto the same DNA. I’m just sending some cloth back. Like I said, it’s simple.”

Dean gives in to his growing irritation at Sam’s caginess and decides to go for the direct assault.

“Sam. What aren’t you telling me?” Dean already has his suspicions of what Sam isn’t telling him; there’s only one way he can think of that takes Abaddon out of play and saves Kevin. He’s hoping he’s wrong. He’s also dying to know how time travelling cloth comes into this.

“Don’t get mad.”

“Sam.”

“Look, just promise you’ll hear me out, okay?”

“SAM.”

Dean can hear Sam take a breath, like he’s getting ready to plunge into deep water. “…I’m going to make sure I finish the third Trial.”

There it is. Damn it.

“LIKE HELL YOU ARE.”

Click.

Sam disconnects before the trace finishes, but Dean doesn’t need the trace to know where to find him. He hauls ass to the garage where the Impala is waiting.

Now: Dean

Dean stands on the brake and Baby skids to a halt next to the car Sam had appropriated, sitting in front of the old, decrepit church. It’s exactly as he remembered it last, like it’s been frozen in time waiting for their return. Overgrown bushes still cling to the rotting siding, and stained glass still litters the ground from the blown-out side window. The only thing missing is the shower of angelic fireballs cascading toward the earth with Sam dying by his side, an image that perversely reminds him of watching fireworks in a field with next to his little brother.

The last time they were here, Sam was half out of his mind with fever and remorse, and Dean’s desperate I’m-Your-Big-Brother-You-Have-To-Do-What-I-Say tone had actually, thankfully, gotten through to him and Sam had backed down. He can’t believe that he has to talk Sam down from the same fucking ledge again, only it’s worse this time because Sam is laser focused on his mission to fix the problem. This time, emotional pleas and yelling and demanding aren’t going to work. This time, so help him, the only way Dean will be able to talk Sam out of this will be to throw logic at him.

Dean launches himself out of the Impala and bursts through the doors of the church to see Sam sitting, chin in hand, in the chair that once held a nearly human King of Hell. A crimson stain is spreading on a strip of cloth that he’s holding to his arm, and there is a bowl of already-mixed spell ingredients on the floor in front of him. Sam has clearly been waiting for Dean.

“Well, that was quick.”

Dean, bent over huffing, heart still pounding from breakneck drive here, is seriously tempted to punch Sam.

Before Dean can take a deep enough breath to start in on forcefully explaining to Sam how idiotic this is, Sam launches into his sales pitch. “Look Dean, I know what you’re going to say, but just listen. I’m not throwing my life away on some impulsive, reckless act. I need you to understand that, that’s why I waited for you. I’ve had days to think this through. This endless cycle of crossing lines we’ve got no business crossing, of throwing away the world to save each other, this is where it all started, and I can stop it before it starts.”

“Damn it Sam, are you even capable of coming up with a plan where you don’t die? Closing up Hell wasn’t worth your life then, and it’s not worth it now—”

“Isn’t it though? I mean, my insides were going to be deep fried whether or not I finished it. You were right when you said you shouldn’t have pulled me back. Look at everything that came after—Kevin, you becoming a demon, and—and the things that I had to do to get you back, to remove the Mark… getting Charlie killed… and how many people died when the Darkness infected that town? I mean, how can you tell me that saving all of them isn’t worth it?”

Dean feels a knot growing in his stomach because he knows damned well that it wasn’t Lucifer who got into Sam’s head. It was the Mark that told Sam that he should have been on the pyre instead of Charlie. It was the Mark that told Sam he should have died finishing the Trials. It was the Mark that told Sam that he was evil. It had said all of this to Sam for his crime of saving Dean from an eternity of suffering.

But it was Dean who never apologized, never tried to set things right.

They have both said and done abhorrent things to each other while under the control of some entity or force, and there has always been an unspoken understanding between them that they don’t take it personally. Mostly. Sometimes. Okay, Dean usually gets mad, leaving Sam to trail after him afterwards apologizing profusely. But Sam always brushes these incidents aside and moves on without a word. Hell, the first thing Sam had done after the hammer episode was to go out and get Dean a double bacon cheeseburger with extra onions and three different pies.

But this… this has really gotten to Sam. He didn’t just dismiss it like he did when they were under the influence of the Siren. He buried it instead and let it set down roots and infest every corner of his brain. And when Sam gets like this—like after he set Lucifer free, like after he found out what he had done while he was soulless—he just can’t let it go until he does something to atone for it. This is ironically what Dean both most admires and most infuriates him about his little brother: his unwavering determination to make things right and his absolute faith in their ability to do so. More than once he has carried Dean along in his wake by sheer willpower when all Dean wanted to do is crawl into a bottle. But these crusades never end well for Sam, and the one thing that Dean will never be able to protect Sam from is himself.

Sam crosses over to the oversized wooden double doors at the entrance, already adorned with the augmented blood sigil. He winds the cloth through both handles and ties it securely as blood continues to ooze from the cut on his forearm. Dean gets what Sam is doing now. He’s using the spell to send the blood-infused cloth back in time, homing in on his own blood in the past, to hold the doors shut back then. Dean had barely gotten to Sam in time to stop him from curing Crowley, and if it had taken him just a few more seconds to push through the door it would have been over. Will have been over.

“Kah-nee-lah. Poo-goh.”

The sigil on the door starts to glow dimly, and the reality that This Is Happening hits Dean like cold water in the face. He had every intention of trying to talk Sam out of this with a reasonable, adult discussion, because he knows damned well that Sam doesn’t respond to orders being yelled at him. It all flies out the window at that moment and he’s barking at Sam like a drill sergeant, because if he doesn’t, he’d be breaking down instead. He grabs Sam’s arm and spins him around.

“What the hell, Sam? You know that nothing I said while I had that thing on my arm counts. You can’t seriously believe that I meant any of—”

Sam cuts him off, his gaze intense, his voice fervent. “It’s true, Dean, what you said. Mark or not, it’s the truth. I chose to cross those lines; I chose to let the Darkness out. You told me not to, and I did it anyway. So this is me stepping up and taking responsibility. If I’ve got a chance to undo all of this, I have to take it. And right now, it’s the only play we’ve got.”

Angry words propelled by desperation shoot out of Dean before he can stop them. “Yeah, that’s exactly what you said about your visions of the Cage, and how did that work out for you?”

Sam visibly flinches and pulls away from Dean as his expression hardens. “Kah-nee-lah. Poo-goh.”

The sigil blazes.

This is not at all what Dean intended. He came here to talk Sam back from the edge, and instead he’s pushing him toward it. Dean swallows his anger and it tastes like acid going down, and all that remains is panic.

“Sam, just stop. I don’t care what came out of my mouth when I had the Mark, it’s all bullshit. Sam, you don’t need to do this—”

“Yeah, Dean, I really do. I wasn’t strong enough to make the right choice then, but I can do it now.”

Dean flounders for whatever magic words he needs to get through to Sam and comes up empty. He does the only thing he can think of to shock some sense into him or, preferably, to knock him cold so that he shuts the fuck up and can’t finish the spell. Dean’s fist connects with Sam’s jaw, propelling him backwards. Sam goes down, sprawling on the floor, but he’s not out. He sits up, hand to jaw, and Dean expects to see shock or anger on Sam's face, but all he sees is compassion. And Dean knows that he’s lost.

“Sammy, don’t—"

“Kah-nee-lah. Poo-goh.”

A blinding light envelops the cloth holding the doors shut.

Yesterday: Lucifer-wearing-Castiel

Castiel ends the call after warning Dean about Sam’s intentions. He takes a marker to one of the added symbols and alters it slightly. He freezes as Lucifer gets back in the driver’s seat.

Lucifer asks suspiciously, “And what exactly are you doing with this, Castiel?”

I’m just disrupting the sigil. The change I made will prevent the spell from accounting for the current position of the Earth relative to its position within the—

“Summarize, Poindexter.”

With the change I’ve made, whatever object Sam is sending back will end up in space. Sam will think that his alteration failed, and he won’t interfere with your plans. You would know if I was lying.

“So… I’m trying to understand this. You’re helping me by sabotaging Sam’s work… why, exactly?”

To eliminate your motivation to kill my friend.

Lucifer considers Castiel’s response. “Huh. We’ll see.”

I can still expel you.

“Now Castiel, we both know that’s an empty threat.”

Castiel is silent for a moment. Then:

It’s a small world after all, it’s a small world—

“Alright, alright. Just kidding. Grow a sense of humor.”

Now: Dean

The cloth binding the door handles is gone, but as far as Dean can tell, nothing else has changed. Sam is still on the floor, a stunned expression on his face that would be comical under any other circumstances, and all Dean can think is thank fucking God, and he starts to wonder if maybe there isn’t something out there intervening on his behalf after all.

“I don’t… it should have… it didn’t work.” Sam looks around in dazed confusion for a moment before pushing himself to his knees, and he looks up at Dean, eyes filled with defeat. Dean can’t stop the memory from superimposing itself in his mind of Sam kneeling in front of him, resigned in his acceptance of Dean’s judgment of him, waiting for the scythe to swing.

“I’m sorry...” Sam apologizes for not being dead.

Dean thinks he’s going to be sick.

He drops to Sam’s level and doesn’t know whether to shake him or maybe hit him again. He pulls Sam to himself instead and holds onto him like he’s going to blink out of existence if he lets go. Sam doesn’t resist, but he doesn’t respond.

Dean knows that there is something that Sam needs to hear, something he should have said weeks ago. Dean hasn’t been able to tell him, because it’s selfish and the good guys aren’t supposed to be selfish. The good guys are supposed to put the rest of the world first, and happily throw themselves into oblivion for “the greater good”. He keeps his grip on Sam because he doesn’t want to see Sam’s reaction to what he’s about to say; he’s not sure what Sam will think of him afterwards.

“What you said… after you risked the world for me, when you said that you’d do it again in a second…”

Sam tenses in his arms, and Dean takes a breath.

“Sammy, that wasn’t evil. That was the best fucking moment of my life.”

The statement hangs there for a few heartbeats. Then Sam relaxes, lets his chin drop to Dean’s shoulder, and tentatively folds his arms around him. Dean feels him starting to shake.

“I wanted to—I couldn’t save them.” Sam’s words fall out of him between hitched breaths.

“I know Sammy.”

“It should have been me up there instead of—”

“Don’t.”

All of the mourning that Dean hadn’t allowed Sam to express as they watched Charlie’s body burn, all of the grief that Sam has held bottled up ever since pours out of him then, and Sam clings to Dean like a drowning man to a life preserver. He doesn’t know how long they stay there. His knees are aching and his legs are falling asleep but he doesn’t care because Sam is still here and he’s alive. He waits until the tremors slow and finally stop, then slowly pulls back.

“Hey, you don’t get to put this all on yourself. I’m the one who took the Mark without reading the warning label. We’re in this together. We’ll figure this out, both of us.”

Sam just nods numbly.

“Now let’s get out of here before we hit menopause.”

Sam rewards Dean with an expelled almost-laugh and a flicker of an almost-smile, and Dean chooses to count that as a win.

~~~~~~~~~~

More Notes:

I have this nagging need to address all of the drama from 10.23 Brother's Keeper that the writers just decided to drop on the floor.

The title is named after the ST:TOS The City on the Edge of Forever. The theme of the story, at least from the original script, is that it is possible to love someone so much that you would throw away your whole universe for them. I can't help but notice the parallel to SPN.

This is exactly what Dean wants from Sam throughout seasons 8 and 9, and when Sam does it in season 10, Dean calls him evil for it. Sam just can't fucking win.

#spn fic #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #sam winchester #dean winchester #cassifer

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paragonrobits · 4 years ago

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a friend asked me to give a shot at doing an entry in this tier list they linked me to, of the video games inducted into the World Video Game Hall of Fame since 2015, and I opted to give it a shot!

My rankings are generally biased towards games I personally enjoy playing, though I will give some commentary on their historic relevance:

S-Rank

Super Mario Bros: The game that repopularized video games in the US, that arguably began the entire platforming video game genre and all its imitators and spin-offs, that spawned a new generation of video games after the Atari Crash in the US, and still a DAMN FUN game in its own right! I simply had to put this at the top ranking. After the disillusionment caused by Atari’s failures, this game brought home consoles back in a big way to the US.

World of Warcraft: Now, I’m not much for MMORPGs. Nevertheless, I’ve followed the lore and general information in the Warcraft setting for years now, and a couple years back, my brother asked me to play it with him. I had a ton of fun, honestly! Playing a goblin mage, I believe. WoW is notable for being THE MMORPG, and still going strong. Admittedly, nowadays many games do what it does better, and the time when it was dominant as THE single game to play is past, but it was still an enjoyable experience and I really have to like how sincere the game is about its aesthetics and campy vibe. Given that the entire setting is reputedly a reskin of a Warhammer Fantasy Battle video game that went south, it’s cheery and colorful, morally gray tone is... an interesting complication in its history. (Also, HORDE. I STAN THE HORDE VERY HARD.)

The Sims: A bit of history; I did not play this game as enthusiastically as a kid as my sister and mom did. We ALL spammed the hell out of the Rosebud cheat, though; not until recent times did I actually wind up playing the game properly, when the most recent iteration of the series was free for a while. My mom didn’t care to play the game, she just liked building houses. In any case, while my attention drifted from the game now and then, I always am fascinated by the actual gameplay of caring for your simulated humans, and the way you don’t actually control them directly. This sort of hands off experience is actually a bit similar to the ‘dungeon simulator’ genre, and while the game is notorious for enabling cruelty (something I never saw the appeal of!), it’s a surprisingly wholesome experience, and it can’t be understated how unique this gameplay was at the time.

Legend of Zelda: It’s actually rather interesting how different OG Zelda is from modern games. Not just the top down perspective (which DOES pop up, now and then); the game is non-linear and allows you to go to any dungeon at any point, completing the game at your leisure, and the story is extremely barebones compared to what we may be used to. It’s quite a far cry from the linear gameplay of gradually collecting tools and working through plots that the games are known for. Breath of the Wild is, in fact, a return to form rather than an upheaval of the formula. I’ll also admit that I have a lot of affection for the gameplay of this one, as well as Link To The Past.

Donkey Kong: When you’re talking old school, as far as what you might call the modern generation of games goes (which is to say, the games that resurged after the Atari Crash), it’s hard to go wrong with Donkey Kong. It’s certainly notable for being a weird stage in Mario’s character and something that is generally ignored; it’s just strange thinking that at one point he was supposed to be abusive towards a pet ape that went in an innocent, well-meaning rampage! Personally this one kind of breaks a mold for my S-class rankings because while I like this one fine, I don’t like it THAT much; i mostly played it in the DK 64 game, and found it very difficult and that’s stuck with me. Still, I place it here for its momentous position in placing Nintendo on the map, with the influence and revolutionary technologies and gaming mechanics they would introduce, to this very day.

Pokemon Red/Blue: Hoo boy. HOO BOY it is honestly something of an oversight that I didn't immediately shove this beauty straight to the front of the S-line because good god I love this game. It's been years and years, long since I was but a whee Johnny playing a strange new game for the first time just because there was a cool turtle creature on the cover (because I was super into turtles back then), and I still love this game. Even with the improvements made to the formula since then (getting rid of HMs, the fixes and new types introduced since) there's still something lovable about this game, even as something as basic as the official artwork that just tugs my heartstrings. This game is highly notable for being an RPG that popularized the monster collecting/befriending gameplay (so far as I know), and as an autistic person, i really appreciate knowing the whole thing grew out of an autistic man's bug collection hobby from when he was a child. Pokemon is an absolute juggernaut of a media influence, and THIS is where it all began. It's first stage evolution, you might say. And not like a Magikarp or anything. This one's more like one of the starters... appropriately enough. Final Fantasy 7: This is probably a bit of a controversial take, but FF7 was not actually one of my favorite Final Fantasy entries back in the day. I never played much more of it than the beginning missions, as my cousin owned the machine in question, and I moved out before i could play it much. Final Fantasy 3 (in the US; it's more generally referred to as 6 now) was my favorite for a long, long time, and that game pioneered many of the traits that would be associated with 7: the epic story, the complex ensemble cast, though 7 really expanded on that basic idea, and previous games were hardly shabby in that regard. 9 is my favorite of the pre-10 era, with its extreme shake ups to the mechanics of the game. No; what makes 7 stand out is that it was a shift towards making Final Fantasy a constantly shifting, unique franchise where every entry was its own thing; it introduced 3D graphics with a fun and cartoony style mixed with a story that wouldn't be out of place in a cyberpunk story, and heralds Squaresoft (as it was called at the time) splitting off from Nintendo, with its censorship policies, and doing its own thing with Sony, with a great deal more freedom to write as they pleased. The party design also stands out, which each character having their own unique function in the party while the Materia concept allows a degree of modular skills to be installed, customizing them in ways that, in my opinion, the best entries in the franchise (on a gameplay level) would revisit. Colossal Cave Adventure: I'll be honest; I never played this game, and I don't believe it's particularly familiar to me at all. However, I chose it for this vaunted spot in S-rank because games of this nature, of text-based prompt and responses, are some of the most interesting things imaginable! Games like AI Dungeon are similar in some respects, and its impressive to think just how dang old this game is, and yet it managed to pull off basically being it's own DM. It has an interesting history; created by a man who worked on the precursor to the Internet, the game was made to connect with his daughter and was inspired by recent entries into Dungeons And Dragons, and later expanded upon by other programmers. It's notable that while Zork is the sort of game that would probably involve more immediate recognition (I actually mistook it for Zork at first, from the screenshot), this game was the first of its kind, and that always deserve some recognition. Minecraft: I absolutely LOVE Minecraft, and it's rightfully one of the most popular games, if not THE most popular game, of the last couple of decades, and it's interesting to think just how unconventional it is; the game is, effectively, a LEGO simulator, and as someone who honestly always wanted tons of LEGO sets as a kid but could never afford them consistently, there's something genuinely very appealing about Minecraft's basic set up. It's open approach and lack of a goal, just gameplay mechanics that encourage you to build and do as you please, makes for a very relaxing and unusual mentality not often seen in games until this point; it doesn't even have a storyline, it simply gives you a world to play around in. Of note, Minecraft's entry seems to have relevance towards video games becoming a cultural touchstone; Minecraft's visual aesthetic leans towards both blocky LEGOs and retro graphics, and certainly proves that games don't need to strive for hyper realistic graphics to be appealing. ----- A RANK Doom: I genuinely like Doom, a lot! I still have memories of replaying this game frequently, long before Doom 2016 and Eternal were glimmers; it's just genuinely very fun to play. That said, I feel that there's other games that are a bit more historically notable and while i like this game, not quite as much as other entries. But it cant be understated that this was THE first person shooter, and more to the point, was fundamental towards game design as we know it. Of note, it pioneered the idea of a game engine, which has had tremendous impact down the road in terms of making a flexible baseline system that latergames were programmed around. Additionally, the first three episodes being free, with the additional ones being purchased as part of the full game, this was, I think, the first demonstration of a demo. Back then, we called this shareware; a game which was free but had full features locked off, but otherwise you could play it however much you wanted. There's a REASON Doom winds up on more systems than Skyrim! Ultimately, while it's not one of my favorite games, it's impact on the business of gaming and the functions of game design cannot be overstated. Pac-Man: This game, is THE game that made video games a phenomenon and its worth thinking about that and how video games as a modern institituion can be drawn, however broadly, from Pac-Man's commercial success. I should note that while I've played this game extensively, it's not something I'm particularly good at; there's a LOT going on here and its a bit much for me to handle. That's probably a strength; there's a reason people had to fake their accomplishments and falsified high scores. It's worth noting that Pac-Man is a unique thing in that it has been rereleased many times over, and every generation has found it enjoyable and fun, unlike other games that set trends only to be lost out in the end. (Goldeneye, for instance!) The Oregon Trail: Like many other people I assume, I first played this game as something available on school computers. Purportedly made as an educational game to teach students about history, this game may be notable for, among other things, being an entry point towards the idea of resource management in video games (as well as being hellishly difficult, by the standards then, but that DOES illustrate a point, does it not?). It's also the oldest, most continuously available game ever made, even now being ported to smartphones, or so I hear! It seems to be a very early example of edutainment games, and a genuinely great one at that. It probably helps that a selling point is that it doesn't really mince around with its subject matter; anyone who's played this game knows that total party kill is the default assumption, as it was in life. Street Fighter and Mortal Kombat: I place these two together as I feel that they form a duo of sorts, and defined fighting games of my childhood and modern gaming experience; name a fighting game, from Injustice to something as deliberately different as Smash Bros, and it has SOME relation to these games, even if its in terms of doing something completely different. These games set a mold for fighting games! Among other things, both games feature iconic characters as a selling point, and to this day fighting games make their mark based on how signature their characters are. Mortal Kombat is of course an incredibly violent game (though very tame, by modern standards), and its fatalities and depicitons of violence sparked thought and arguments on what video games ought to be allowed to depict, for better or for worse. It's not implausible to suggest that the overly strict restrictions on what video games could depict go back to Mortal Kombat's fatalities, specifically (since there's far worse games predating it, though too graphically primitive to be obvious). Street Fighter, conversely, strikes me as having more characterization and depth, especially as far as fighting systems go; I find it hard to be interested in many fighting games now, if they don't offer as much depth as the likes of Street Fighter 2. Street Fighter stands out for innovating multiplayer play, initially in the arcade, and its not implausible to say that the likes of Smash Bros is a descendant of sorts of the specific mentality Street Fighter brought to the table. Consider also that it is STILL a mainstay in the remaining arcades and cabinets in service today! Tomb Raider: This is a game i legit liked back in the day, and there's some part of me that's sad that the platforming, puzzle solving and focus on exploration has not really made it back into the modern Tomb Raider series, last I checked. There's probably something interesting in that Lara Croft represents a bit of an intermediate period between platforming mascots and modern Edgy Protagonists; you know the ones. Balding white dudes with vague dad vibes, but this is not a slight on Lara; she definitely has a ton of personality, even just at a cover glance. This game had a strong focus on exploration, and that's honestly something I really like. Super Mario Kart: I'm going to be controversial here; complaints about the Blue Shell are kinda overrated. It's not that different from, say, a red shell hitting you from behind when you're close to the finish line. But, jokes and old 90s memes aside, this game has some interesting status in that it started the idea of making spin-off games in dramatically different contexts; Crash Team Racing and Sonic Drift, for example, are listened as similar games. On a franchise level, this began the trend of Mario becoming a truly flexible character who could do pretty much whatever was required of him, not just the original platforming games, and its possible his imitators never quite learned the same lesson. Though one wonders what Miyamoto might have thought if he'd known how many thinkpieces he would spawn with 'why does mario go-karting with Bowser when they're enemies?'. For my part, I favor the idea that the other games are in-universe fictions they're actors on and this is their actual dynamic, or that Mario is a relaxed dude who doesn't mind playing kart games with his foe. (I mean, he's not Ridley. Bowser's easy enough to get along with.) Animal Crossing: Again, I have to emphasize that I've never actually played this game, at least on a consistent basis (and by that, I mean I MIGHT have played it on the Gamecube, once, in the early 2000s), and have to speak from what I've seen of what it sparked. And I really do like the way it really codified the sub-genre of relaxed, open-ended games where the player is free to do as they like, without much stress or fear, which is something I think more games could stand to do. On my personal list of features that my ideal video game would have, Animal Crossing would definitely offer a few ideas. I am reminded of farming simulators, such as Harvest Moon or Stardew Valley; while they are different beasts entirely, there's a familiar sense of non-combat relaxation that's pleasant to see. Spacewar!: This machine is GODDAMN old, and like an old fogey predating modern humans, it deserves our respect. It's so old, it predates Pong. Supposedly created as part of predictative Cold War models, with an emphasis on emulating sci fi dogfights, producing a game that soon proved popular, for over a decade remainign the most popular game on computer systems, and a clumsy foray into arcade gaming (that didn't pan out, unfortunately) led to the creation of Pong by its creator, which is another story all its own! And Pong is directly responsible for the idea of the video game itself; this game launched the entire video game industry as we understand it! No small feat, indeed. ----

B RANKED Sonic The Hedgehog: I must state that I DO like this game, though not as much as later entires like Sonic 3 and Knuckles, or the Sonic Adventure series; the fast paced action seems a bit hobbled by the traps and need to be careful of surroundings, which would seem to run counter towards the whole idea of GOTTA GO FAST, y'know? But the game presents an interesting viewpoint on the nature of mascot gaming; created specifically, so it is said, as a rival to Mario, Sonic was designed as a mascot with attitude, and inspired a host of imitators; he's probably the only one to escape the 90s more or less intact, and this may have something to say about his flexibility, star power, and also the fact that he's a pretty mild character, all things considered. This game certainly has its place in gaming history, giving an important place in the console wars of yesteryear. Believe me, I was a kid in the 90s, Sonic was a HUGE deal. Space Invaders: This game is noted to have catapulted games into prominence by making them household, something outside of arcades, and it shows! An interesting detail of note is that supposedly, the Space Invaders were meant to all move at high speed, but this was either too hard to play against, or too costly on the processor; it was found that by making them speed up as they were defeated, it created an interesting set of challenge. You have to appreciate game history like that. In general, its success prompted Japanese companies to join the market, which would eventually produce what I imagine was a thriving, competitive market that would eventually get us Nintendo and it's own gamechangers down the road. Grant Theft Auto 3: I'm going to be honest with you. I don't much care for this sort of game. The Saints Row series, with its fundamental wackiness, is the kind of game I really DO like if I'm going for something like this, and GTA sort of leaning towards the 'cruel for fun and profit' gameplay is really unappealing for me. However, I'd be remiss if I didn't address this game, and what seems to come up is two things: the game's sheer freedom in its open world (which certainly pushed the bar for games of that nature, and has made it a byword for gamers screwing around in a game just to see what ridiculous things they could or couldn't do) and the infamous reputation from the mature aspects of the game. Personally, I'm not much for this game's take on maturity (if I wanted to discuss a game of that nature, I'd suggest, say, Spec Ops: The Line) but I really do appreciate what this game and its series did for the open world genre, and the sheer possibilities presented for letting you do what you wanted. King's Quest: I've never played this game, but I am a HUGE fan of the point and click genre (also known generally as the adventure game genre) that it spawned; without this game, there's no Monkey Island, no Sam and Max, no The Dig or Full Throttle, or Gabriel Knight. This game was similar to previous text-based games, with a text parser to input commands, but with the distinction of a graphical interface to move their character around, which would be the seed of later games such as the SCUMM engine of Monkey Island and other Lucasarts games (which, to me, ARE Adventure Gaming). The puzzles, comedic sensibilities, and interface innovations originated with this game, and codified those later adventure games i love so much. Starcraft: This is another one those list of 'games I should have already played by now'. I'm not much of an RTS person, barring forays with games such as Impossible Creatures, Warhammer 40k: Dawn of War, and more strange entries such as Brutal Legend, and I contend that the combat aspects of 4X games like Civilization DO count on some level; the specifics of troop movement and unit strengths/weaknesses are a bit beyond me, when you get to more complex stuff. Starcraft, reading between the lines, really introduced the idea of multiplayer culture especially for RTS, pioneered the Battle(dot)net system (which I mostly recall from Diablo, if I'm being honest!) as well as the idea of relative strengths and powers for individual factions so that they became characters in their own right. It's still a very popular online game, and that says SOMETHING. Also, I tend to use zerg rushes, so I would probably play Zerg. Probably. (There is much speculation on whether or not, like Warcraft being a failed Warhammer Fantasy game, if the same holds true for Starcraft and Warhammer 40k. I lean on the side of 'probably not'; the differences are too notable. The Zerg and Tyranids have some similarties, but that's probably because they're based on the same broad hive mind evil insect aggressor trope, and they have enough differences from there to be very distinct from one another. It's not like how OG Warcraft's orcs were very obviously warhammer orcs with less football hooliganism.) Bejeweled: This is a firm case of a game that I don't play, but I really have to respect its influence on gaming as a whole. Apparently it started as a match three-type game with a simplistic formula that proved wildly popular (perhaps making a point that simpler can be more effective, in game mechanics), with a truly explosive record of downloads; over 500 million, it seems. Thus its fair to say that this game set the precedent for casual games, which have become THE market. Regardless of your feelings on that genre, this one was a real game changer. (Pun intended, absolutely.) ----

C RANK Pong: "By most measures of popular impact, Pong launched the video game industry." This line alone saws it all, I think. It wasn't the first video game, but it was one of the more early ones, and its the one that really made video games and consoles successful, gaining widespread attention from the mainstream audience, as well as getting Atari recognition (for better or for worse, but perhaps that was just a development of being on top, so to speak; maye the console wars at least kept the big three honest). It also started the arcade revolution of games, and this humble game is essentially responsible for the entire state of video games as a concept, as we know it today. Halo: No disrespect to Halo, but it's just a game series I've never quite been able to get into. Those games are very hit and miss for me; games like Call of Duty, Battlefield, Gears of War and everything like that are just... hard for me to get into. It takes something specific like Borderlands or the Besthesda Fallout series, or something else, for me to get hooked, and Halo just doesn't do it for me! Nevertheless, I would be QUITE remiss if I simply dismissed it, and there's reasons for it to be inducted into the hall of fame barely three years into the hall of fame making inductees. Firstly, it was Microsoft's big entry into the console wars, and it must be said this was a MASSIVE upset and a completely unprecedented shift in the assumptions of the console wars back then; NO ONE expected microsoft to actually do this, let alone redefine gaming out of Sony and Nintendo's favor like that. At the time, PCs dominated FPS games, and Halo showed that consoles could do it just fine. It must also be said that it has a very intricate and complex system of lore, backstory and material that was quite distinctive for a new setting back in the day, and while I've seen people object to it's gameplay, I suspect that its with the benefit of hindsight; Halo offered an extremely unusual degree of freedom in achieving the goals set out for you. (Cortana also didn't deserve getting her name slapped onto that search assistant that eats up all your RAM.) Where In The World Is Carmen San Diego: Surprisignly enough, based on the article, this game was NOT an adaptation, but the source material of this character. This is where the fancy, mystery lady in the red coat started! Evidently this game was originally an edutainment game with a cops and robbers theme, and inspired by Colossal Cave Adventure from higher up on the list, and one must appreciate the effort that went into it. This one is ranked low, mostly because it didn't seem TOO notable to me. Honestly I'm surprised this is where Carmen Sandiego started. (And that she doesn't get enough credit as an iconic theatrical villain who won't go a step too far, but that's another rant.) -

D LIST

Here we are. The D LIST. The bottom of the sorting pile; the lowest of them all, the... well, the ones that I honestly don't necessarily dislike, but couldn't place higher for reasons of notability, personal interest, or perceived impact on the history of gaming. John Madden Football: Sports games, as a whole, really do NOT do it for me. I don't like real like sports at ALL (with, as a kid, a brief interest in boxing and that was just because they had gloves like Knuckles from Sonic the Hedgehog) so its hard for me to say that I find the history of this one all that compelling. Even so, there's some interesting elements in how this game was a sequel to a previous failed attempt, with a bold new attempt at a more arcade-style action game with a more dramatic take on the players, who would in turn be rated in different skill sets. The Madden series is STILL going so... it worked out pretty well, I'd say. (FUCKIN EA WAS BEHIND THIS ONE??? wow, EA is older than I thought.) Microsoft Flight Simulator: It's honestly a bit painful sorting this one so low, since I had many happy times as a wee Johnny playing this game back in the old days. I mean the OLD, old days. This was like, the days when Usenet was the preferred way for people to talk online. (Not me, though. I didn't talk to people, then. I was even less social than I am now, which is saying something!) All the same, I suppose that it was important to not crowd too many entries in a specific folder, and statistically, something had to keep getting knocked down, and in the end, I couldn't honestly say I still enjoyed this one enough to place it higher. Still, credit must be given where it is due; this game stands out for being an early foray into simulator gaming, showing a realistic depiction of actual flight. It has apparently been updated and rereleased many times since, which is impressive! Tetris: I like puzzles. So it might be surprising to hear this seminal game ranked so low; firstly, I like different KINDS of puzzles (like weird ones where you have to fling your sense of logic to the moon and back, or make use of gaming mechanics) and honestly this game is kind of stressful for me. You gotta keep an eye on a lot of different things flying around all at once, and constantly move things around, and that kind of attention and quick thinking does NOT come easily to me. All the same, I really have to admire how it was born from it's creator's pleasure in solving mathematical puzzles about sorting shapes into boxes, in a manner strangely remniscient of Satoshi's bug collecting that became Pokemon. Certainly the game's simplicity has proven a universally appealing thing, and may say something about the value of keeping it simple. Microsoft Solitaire: This game apparently became pay-to-get some time ago in recent computer generations, and let me tell, you, it was genuinely depressing to find that out. I remember younger decades, from the 90s and on, when this game was a regular and free feature in Windows computers fir MANY years. You got a computer, this game was on here. I was a kid, and i remember watching my mom play this game and makign the cards go WHOOP WHOPP all over the place and marveling, because I couldn't ever do the same thing. (A related note: I am terrible at this game. Go figure!) Of note, this game was massively widespread, and just EVERYWHERE, and I think everyone who ever played a computer back in those days instantly remembers it in some way. It was just... ubiquitous. Centipede: Oh, ol' Centipede. I don't mean to be mean to you. But between the likes of Pokemon and Super Mario Bros, even the arcade Donkey Kong, someone had to keep dropping down the leaderboard that is this tierlist, and unfortunately, there were other games that felt higher up than you. All the same, you're a very good game, and honestly, I like you more than some other games ranked higher for reasons of relevance to gaming history. Certainly more than anything else in D-listing. The colorful and appealing palette is noteworthy. That trackball controller! Amazing! (More games should use trackballs. They're fun and easy to use.) At the very least, Order of the Stick did a joke with you once, and that's better than anything I can do for you. All the same, you're a cool game.

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