Edit: March 29th, 2008
Hey, there. I know my profile has stated that I have no intention of writing my own fics, but for various reasons I could not resist just this once. (Famous last words, I know.)
For one thing, there has been a lull in updates lately to the stories I like to read, and I have found myself suffering from an embarrassing Vincent Valentine withdrawal. For another, I have been growing increasingly frustrated with some of the material out there. So much of it makes no sense, and does not try to.
Too often I see Vincent returning to sleep in the coffin after Omega, which makes less than zero sense in light of the ending of DoC. Yes, yes, I have seen stories where the author made a case for it, and it worked. But to just assume that it would be a given? Bullcrap. Many other stories have him going back to Shinra Manor to live, which makes even less sense. The place is not and never was his and is full of the kinds of memories that would be daily setting off debilitating bouts of PTSD; and I can't see even a guy as masochistic as Vincent choosing to subject himself to that kind of torture on purpose. Not unless his name was on the deed and he felt some morbid sense of responsibility to maintain the family estate. But it's not. So, whatever.
Basically, I want just for once to see a well-done story where Vincent is trying to get on with his life after DoC, and succeeding realistically, not sliding inexplicably back into his dark ways still mooning over Lucrecia or turning into a sappy Yuffie fanboy. Middle ground, please.
And also? Monotone, according to Webster's, is defined as "a succession of syllables, words, or sentences in one unvaried key or pitch." In other words, if you were to keep striking just one single key on a piano while listening to Vincent speak, his words would always correspond exactly with that one note. This does not describe the way he talks. At all.
Wow. I guess I had a little rage to get off my chest, there. Continue ignoring me as you will.
General:
Me? That's not really important, as I'm not really here. I'm just a pair of eyes attached to an enormous faulty brain and a shortage of soul. Not here to submit, just to hunt for (mostly Vincent Valentine-related) wheat amid the abundant chaff.
I am insulting and rude and cold and agonizingly socially inept; and so I am sparing with my comments to minimize my opportunities for giving inadvertant offense. Not, God knows, because I have nothing to say.
But if you came here because I commented on one of your stories and you want to know something about the one you now despise, I am a 28-year-old female -- still doesn't sound right to call myself a woman, like I'm some kind of grown-up -- from Phoenix, Arizona; and I am a shameless fantasy-holic. You can check out my work at deviantART, if you care.
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