#It doesn’t land very well. At least for me. But when their primary goal isn’t realism，and the audience understands this，

[gryphonablaze]

The rwby food fight is better than the average mcu fight

[13uswntimagines]

Better To Be Friends Than Competition (Lindsey x Reader)

Author’s Note: This Technically wasn’t requested, but @literaryhedgehog and i had a blast writing this. It’s the Harry Potter AU. Basically, reader is a muggleborn who really wants to be a chaser, but maybe there’s a better position for her on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. This is the beginning of what will be a multi-part series following the building romance between two amazing characters and how our golden octet help them out along the way. 

@sleep-deprived-athlete​

“Alright, you’ve all been told the rules and had the chance to warm up. So let’s start by dividing into groups. Anyone who wants to be a seeker follow Mia there to the far side of the field. Beaters to the left with Foudy. Keepers to the goalposts with Hope. And chasers with me up top,” Brandi said with a wave of her hand, kicking off of the ground and heading towards where her group was going to meet. 

You snuck a glance to either side of you as you also kick off and head to your position, trying to guess who out of the eight students around you is going to be your biggest competition. Surely you thought more people would have wanted a chance at a spot on one of the best teams at Hogwarts. Tryouts had been packed for the last two years. 

You wondered which drill Brandi was going to start with as you approached the group (said woman was idily tossing a quaffle lightly in her hands as she talked to another one of your competition). For the last 2 years it was always a set of passing drills, where would-be chasers played a very complicated game of catch up and down the pitch. 

Maybe those tryouts were supposed to be private, but how else could you prepare for them if you didn’t know what to expect? 

Quidditch was honestly a really weird sport. Well, American football made less sense, but you hadn’t exactly studied the rules as extensively as you had Quidditch. Like, the game literally would not end until someone caught the snitch. According to Quidditch through the Ages a game had literally lasted for months. You remembered watching a tennis game that lasted for four days before, but generally the muggle sports you grew up with were more consistent in how long each game took.  

“Oh yeah”, you thought, watching the beaters line up across the pitch, “and there is also a ball charmed to try and knock people off their broom. That’s not normal.” Though it was something your dad found hilarious. 

Sports were always something the two of you could talk about, even before you found out you had magic. He loved the fact that you loved football as much as he did, and was thrilled by the fact that you had enough talent to play it in your primary school. 

Though with your hand eye coordination you had done better with cricket, and baseball the few times you had a chance to play it in gym. So when you had joined the wizarding world you naturally had gotten into quidditch. Learned everything you could about the game so you could give him detailed play by plays about the games when you sent owls home. 

At this point you were dying to play. You were too short to be a beater or a keeper, but you knew you could be a chaser. You could catch like nobody’s business, and you had at least half of the tactics in The Beginner's Quidditch Playbook memorized. You were going to be the best damn chaser Hogwarts had ever seen. 

“Hey space captain, you ready for this?” 

“What?” You froze, heat flooding your cheeks at being caught not paying attention. You slowly turned to face the new presence. 

You knew the girl. Well. You knew of the girl (it was impossible not to know about the very pretty blond girl). She was in your house and year (and therefore in your dorm as well as all your classes) but the two of you had never really interacted before. She seemed to already know everyone and everything when she got to Hogwarts, so it didn’t really seem like she was looking for friends, and it was hard enough trying to figure out your new life without having people look at you strangely when you didn’t know a word they used. Not that Lindsey, you thought that’s her name anyway, had done that, but other purebloods did. It was easier figuring things out on your own to start, and by the time you did, you and Lindsey had already established yourselves in different friend groups. Was her name Lindsey? A Slytherin in your year was always calling her strange nicknames, so it was hard to tell. 

“The drill. Are you ready for the drill space captain?” The girl asked again. 

“Yeah, but I’m not a captain. I’m a second year, like you,” You said softly, your eyebrows furrowing. Maybe that was a wizard saying, but you had no idea what she was talking about. Your heart also dropped just a touch because if she thought you were a captain then she had absolutely no idea who you were. 

She shook her head with a giggle (showing off her dimples). “My dad says that’s what muggles call a person with their head in the clouds,” 

You cocked your head to the side, your brain running a million miles an hour to try and figure out what she meant. But then it clicked. “Oh you mean space cadet,” 

“I guess,” She shrugged, seemingly unbothered about the correct verbiage. 

The whistle blowing brought both of your attention back towards Brandi and the first set of would-be chasers beginning the crossing drill. You coughed to hide a scoff when Lynn Williams raced at breakneck speed up the pitch, and released the quaffle at least 30 feet off where the chasing captain had instructed. 

You shook your head at the play. It was too sloppy, too open and it would never connect well with JJ and Alex up top. 

“Not impressed by what you see?” Lindsey asked, her eyebrow quirking up (trying very hard to pretend she wasn’t interested in your answer. You were her competition after all). 

“Not after Alex basically destroyed the same course last year. She’s got an 85% accuracy rating on goal and nearly 60% of her shots come off of left crosses. Williams isn’t getting high enough on the pitch to provide an adequate pass,”  You mumbled out quickly, wincing when Lynn made the same mistake on the way back, nearly sending her partner (a girl in the year below you named Mal) into the stands to catch it (though you were slightly impressed that Mal managed to grab it before it landed in the seats). 

“Yeah, I see what you mean. Her throws tend to either go too short or too long. Even if it doesn’t go directly to her partner it at least needs to be consistent so during a game the person she’s throwing it to knows where to intercept it before the other team does,” Lindsey said, taking a hand off her broom to shield her eyes.

“She’s fast but it won’t help if she forces the other chaser off her line to provide service to Alex in front of the posts,” You huffed. Having her on that side would be a positioning nightmare. It left the team open and vulnerable to so many different attacking options. 

“I am not entirely sure what that means,” Lindsey said, smirking as she looked sideways at you, “but it sounds like you don’t think she’s competition, which is good news for us!’

You opened your mouth to respond, only to be cut off by Brandi’s whistle. “Alright next pair up,” 

You gulped and tightened your fingers on your broom “Guess it’s showtime,” You muttered, surging forward to the starting line. 

“Good luck space captain, you’re gonna need it,” Lindsey called back towards you with a wink, taking the ball from Brandi. 

You shook your head. You wouldn’t need luck. A fucking golden retriever could beat out the performance you had just whitnessed. As long as you didn’t fall off your brooms, you both would be fine. 

***

You raced towards the hoops, reaching your arm out to pluck the perfectly timed ball out of its arc towards the ground. Okay, Lindsey was good. Really good. She HAD to have known how bad Lynn’s throws were, because hers were positively perfect. Your throws were good, but Lindsey had this way of arching the ball up through the air if a perfect loop so it practically fell into your hands. There was no way she didn’t practice over the summer. 

You neared the posts, starting to make your u-turn to pass the ball back when a flash of gold caught your eyes. Before you really thought it through, the hand anchoring you to your broom had already lifted to snatch it out of the air on instinct. You had played cricket for most of your life- it was instinct to reach out and grab a ball that looked like it was about to fly into your face. 

The next few seconds happened almost in slow motion. As your fingers closed around the cool metal, you realized just how far to your side you had to lean to reach the object, and how far off balance it had put you. Your legs crossed tightly as you flipped completely upside down on your broom, entirely unwilling to let go of the object you had just caught or the large quaffle still tucked tightly under your arm. Before you really knew what was happening, you were staring straight at the ground, your legs the only thing keeping you in the air. 

“Holy shit, holy shit. Um, hey Lindsey?” You called, eyes on the ground below you. 

“What?” You heard her call. You idly wondered why one of the captains hadn’t put a stop to this yet and put you out of your misery. 

“Catch?” You threw the quaffle, well tossed it really, up into the air towards where you thought the other girl was. You knew it was going to be short, but also knew that she was going to catch it anyway. She really was that good. With your now free hand you reached up and grabbed the handle of your broom so you could pull yourself to it and rotate back to an upright position. 

Only then did you look down at the tiny ball fluttering in your hand. The tiny, almost leathery, wings flapped like it was waving hello. You stared at it in awe, your lips ticking up. You had just caught the golden snitch. You never thought you would get to touch the snitch, much less catch it. 

“Hey you” a voice called from the pitch behind you. You turned to look as Mia flew from where the seeker candidates were staring hopelessly at the sky around them to land on the pitch. “Get down here. Yeah, you on the drills.” She motioned down to the pitch, indicating where you should land, then turned her head to call over her shoulder, “Brandi I’m taking number 2.” 

You quickly flew towards where she had pointed, shakily dismounting from your broom. You weren’t sure if it was fear, adrenaline or nerves, but your legs felt like jelly. You clutched the little ball in your hand so tightly that you were sure there was going to be an imprint in your palm later. 

“What in Merlin’s name are you doing in the chaser section?” Mia said, tucking her broom under her arm and throwing her hand up towards the group of would be chasers throwing a ball around at varying distances. (You tried not to wince when Lynn nearly pegged Mal in the face again). 

“Um, trying to be a chaser? I was always a good forward so I thought it might fit?” You mumbled with a shrug, scratching the back of your neck with your free hand. a light shade of pink covered your cheeks. It was a little embarrassing how clueless you were with the magical world sometimes, and how even after being here for two full years, you still felt completely out of your depth. 

“That’d be like using a cauldron as a teacup because they’re both the same shape. It’d work but what a waste!” 

“I…- I have no idea what that means. I know I caught the wrong thing, and I’m sorry. I’ll leave now if that’s what you want,” You stuttered out, suddenly finding the way your shoe poked the pitch underneath you interesting. 

“No, kid you misunderstand me. Look, you, what’s your name again?” Mia stepped closer, tilting her head as she looked at you. 

“Y/n. Y/n Y/l/n,” 

“Right, Y/n, you could play chaser. You’d even be a decent one with a bit of work. But that’d be a damn waste of talent. You’re a natural seeker. I’m not upset with you for catching the wrong ball, I’m upset you weren’t over in my section trying to catch the snitch in the first place. Look at that lot over there, they still think it’s somewhere over the stands.” Mia stepped next to you and turned, gestured to the group of seeker hopefuls flying in circles near the Ravenclaw seats. 

“Oh,” You breathed out, following her hand to look at the large group. They were squinting towards the stands and swooping low at whatever they thought they had spotted, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the snitch had been caught on the other side of the pitch and that Mia wasn’t even paying attention to them anymore. 

“I’ve had a lot of practice spotting this ball,” Mia said, tapping the snitch trapped in your hand. “I was able to see it within about a minute of it being released, and have been watching it since. None of them saw it when it was on their side of the field, but you saw it instantly- even when you were focused on something else. That is a talent Y/n. Why didn’t you try out for seeker in the first place?”

“I didn’t know how to practice for it, and that-. It wasn’t like any of the other positions I have ever played,” You muttered, trying to cover your insecurity with a nonchalant shrug. It seemed like the position that required the most innate ability, and as a muggleborn you didn’t think you had any. 

Mia nodded slowly looking at you. “Right,” she said, turning and mounting her broom, “I wanna run you through some drills. Come on.”

You blinked at the woman as she hovered in front of you. Your eyes darting between Mia and the object still clutched tightly in your hand. Where were you supposed to put it? Were you supposed to let it go? 

You brought your palm up so it was level with your eyes and opened your hand, half expecting the snitch to fly away. It didn’t. It’s wings slowly unfurled and it waved docilely at you. Like an old friend. 

“What’re you waiting for?” Mia called down at you.

“It won’t fly away!” You called back, looking up at the woman, who rolled her eyes indulgently. 

“Of course not, it’s yours. You caught it, and you can watch it like some love-struck puppy later- stash it in your pocket and come on!”

***

You were having a fucking blast, even though you had no idea what you were in for when you joined the seeker group. Every year when you watched tryouts, you never payed attention to what they had to do, as you never thought you would have to do it. Even without the advantage, you were killing it. 

You had been separated into pairs, just like the chasers were, but Mia had enchanted clear balls (the size of tennis balls) to randomly fly through the air. The balls were given a 5 second head start before you and your partner were allowed to race to catch it. Now this was familiar, the jostling of arms while racing after a ball and trying to prevent someone else from getting to it before you. Only once out of five rounds did your opponent get to the ball before you, but really, that elbow to your ribs was a red card if you’d ever seen one. 

Then everyone took turns hovering in the air as Mia took ten of the enchanted balls and flicked them up haphazardly one by one every five seconds. The goal was to catch as many of them as you could before they hit the ground, even as they were sent up in different directions and some much higher in the air than others. You didn’t get all of them, but the seven you saved still seemed to impress the other seeker candidates who didn’t scowl. The second highest number saved was six, but that girl still congratulated you as you got off your broom, since “those last few of them went way further out than they did for me- and you were an inch away from that eighth one!” 

You nodded, smiling at her, though you were probably more embarrassed than she realized about that eighth one. That one had been sent towards the far side of the field, where you looked up to meet Lindsey’s eyes. You had been placed perfectly to catch the ball as it started falling from it’s apex, but in the moment your hand faltered, and it brushed by your hand instead. You cursed and considered going after it, but then you flew back to where Mia had already released one of the last two on the other side of the field. 

“Alright, for our last drill, we’re going to try to catch a real snitch again,” Mia said, pulling another golden ball out from inside her robes and holding it between her thumb and pointer finger. Its wings sprung out and flapped wildly, unlike the slow waving of the one in your pocket. 

Everything in you wanted to catch the little golden ball. To tame it like you had the other one. For it to sit calmly in your hand and wave hello like an old friend. 

“Isn’t the other one still out there?” The same girl asked, her head tilting to the side. 

“It’s been taken care of,” Mia smirked and shook her head, sending a little glance in your direction. The girl stared at her wide eyed, opening and closing her mouth as though she wanted to say more, but Mia again cut her off with a stern glare. ”As I was saying, the first of you to catch it gets to keep it and also gets a boost to the points on their scorecard. Now line up,” 

You all flew low on the pitch, forming a circle with Mia and the snitch at its center. Your eyes never left the frantically flapping little ball as you waited for her whistle to blow. There was no way it was going to escape you and if you got to show off for the would be chasers watching you near the posts, that was fine with you too. 

***

“Congratulations Y/n! There’s no way you won’t get picked to be seeker,” the girl said, after Mia released you, promising that the results of the tryouts would be posted next week. 

“Oh, um thanks-...” You said trailing off towards the end, awkwardly rubbing the back of your neck. You didn’t know her name. 

“Oh, sorry. You missed introductions at the beginning. I’m Savannah, from two years above you.” Savannah grinned at you, a bit ruefully. “You know, I thought this was going to be my year to nail the seeker position. But with you on the team, there’s no WAY we’re gonna lose to Slytherin. And Lloyd can stop looking so smug about the cup win last year.”

“The only reason they were better is because they had Amy and Sydney scoring.  They won despite her and her stupid tactics. If Slytherin actually got a decent seeker then we’d be in trouble,” Lindsey said, throwing her arm over your shoulder and stepping to walk between you and Savannah. 

“Carli’s decent, just distracted I think. She had NEWTS along with scouters and stuff,” you muttered, a bit defensively. You know you weren’t supposed to like the Slytherins- house competition and all that- but Carli’s strategy was pretty impressive. The recruiters certainly seemed to think so, you heard rumors that the recruiters from the Wasps and Arrows had a bidding war before the Harpies showed interest. 

“Pshh it was just the Harpies recruiter. Even if they have Potter, she’d still probably tank their win streak. At least that’d help my team,” Lindsey snorted, shaking her head. 

Your eyebrows furrowed. The Harpies were the second oldest team in the league, and since they recruited Ginny they had been on a tear taking down the Cannons and the Magpies in the final games of the European cup three years running. You thought Carli’s strategy would fit nicely in their ranks. 

“I’m pretty sure there were Wasps recruiters and Magpies guys here too,” Savannah said to Lindsey. You noticed her eyes glanced towards Lindsey’s arm around your shoulder as she smiled widely. Lindsey dramatically rolled her eyes. 

“Which team is yours?” You asked softly, leaning your head on Lindsey's shoulder as you trudged towards the locker room, ignoring Savannah. 

“The cannons of course,” Lindsey said confidently. Savannah seemed to be hiding a smirk, and waved goodbye at you as she headed into the locker room. 

“They’re pretty alright, but Ronaldo is a little too cocky for me. Sinclare and Potter together are a lethal combo for the Harpies and with Angerer in goal they’re like unstoppable,” You hummed thoughtfully. You also liked that the Harpies were an all female team. 

“Ugh, you sound like Emily,” Lindsey said, rolling her eyes. “She and Sam are giant Magpies supporters.” 

“I mean the Magpies have a 75% score rate while the Cannons are only at a 60. And Messi catches the snitch within the first hour 80% of the time, while Ronaldo’s catches take about 85 minutes on average,” you rattled off. So maybe you were a little too into statistics. At least your dad never had to worry about your math skills. 

“No way, they’re super into team stats too! Maybe you can help me convince Emily and Sam that the Cannons are the best team!”

“But Emily and Sam, whoever they are, are right. The stats don’t lie,” You said with furrowed eyebrows. 

“Oh, Emily is my friend in Slytherin and Sam‘s in Hufflepuff. I’ll introduce you later.” Lindsey said waving a hand in the air. “Anyway, the Magpies may have Messi, but the Cannons have heart! And isn’t that what really matters to make a good team great?”

You paused, pulling Lindsey to a stop beside you. “I know they don’t teach math here, but Statistics beat heart any day.” 

Lindsey laughed and shoved you playfully to the side. “You haven’t even met them and already you’re ganging up on me.” 

“I’m just stating facts. The hat almost put me in Ravenclaw cause I just love random factoids so much,” you smirked, tucking yourself back under her outstretched arm (it was just so warm and it made you feel… safe). 

“Well, I’m glad you’re in Gryffindor. It's way better to have you as a teammate than competition Space captain. Now let’s go- if we hurry we can probably get to the library to work on that potions essay before curfew.” 

[pinnithin-writes]

The First: Aftermath (Part 2)

A collaborative work between myself and @reneethecyborg on what happened after Lupin III: The First. Part 2 of 4, 1609 words.

It never ceases to amaze Zenigata how quickly things tend to spiral out of control when the Lupin gang is involved. Just a few days ago, he was staking out a Parisian museum in hopes of preventing Lupin from stealing some old diary with vague ties to his grandfather. The stakeout had sort of worked, excepting Lupin’s usual dramatic escape at the last second. Then radio silence for a day or so, until Lupin popped up again in the middle of Mexico for no clear reason. That’s when things really got complicated, as they almost always do with these people.

While arresting Lupin may be the cornerstone of his career, Zenigata’s primary goal has always been to uphold justice and root out corruption wherever it may lurk—even among his own coworkers, from time to time. With that in mind, it’s not terribly surprising that he often finds himself forming a temporary alliance with the Lupin gang when there’s a greater evil to deal with, and there are few greater evils than the one they’ve come up against this time.

All in all, things seem to have worked out alright. The entirety of the Brazil base’s manpower was either taken into custody or gunned down when Interpol (and the Lupin gang) stormed the place, the Eclipse device was kept out of the wrong hands, and Laetitia Bresson can get on with her life as a bright young woman with a promising career in archaeology to look forward to, finally free of the dark cloud hanging over her.

But something still isn’t sitting right with Zenigata.

He would never admit to giving them a head start—it would sound too much like he’s going soft—but it didn’t seem fair to chase the Lupin gang out on a rail before they had a chance to say goodbye to their new friend. From where Zenigata had been watching on Interpol’s own boat, ready to pounce at a moment’s notice, the whole affair seemed rather subdued. Lupin didn’t perform any of his usual grand gestures of farewell; Laetitia had hugged him, but he ended it fairly quickly and spent most of their conversation on the speedboat, like he was trying to keep a bit of distance between them.

The pursuit didn’t last long, on account of the fact that they could hardly leave Laetitia stranded there on the pier, but what little he saw before cutting the gang loose left a bad taste in his mouth. Again Lupin lacked his usual grandstanding and bravioso—no cheeky waving, no jumping around hurling childish barbs as the speedboat careened off into the sunset.

As a detective, Zenigata’s job is to make inferences based on whatever scraps of information he can wring out of a situation. In this case, the information he has leads to one conclusion: whatever happened on that plane, it didn’t go anywhere near as smoothly as Lupin insisted it would when he originally pitched his plan to destroy the Eclipse personally. There’s other supporting evidence, too; when the plan was originally hashed out, Lupin claimed he would set the Eclipse to destroy itself and then immediately bail out before it could become a danger to him. But when the time came, nobody saw him at all until long after the plane had begun to consume itself, and even then he didn’t have his parachute.

Something went wrong up there, Zenigata’s sure of it. If he had to guess, he would suppose that Geralt wasn’t as much of a pushover as Lupin seemed convinced he would be. They probably fought—or rather, Geralt fought while Lupin danced around making a fool of himself. Given the nature of Lupin’s scheme, it would stand to reason that Geralt might have come at him with everything he had. People tend to abandon all pretense when their ideology and life’s work goes up in smoke before their eyes. With that in mind, it’s very likely that Lupin took a beating before he could get away. That would explain his behavior after the fact, if he were injured.

Of course, there’s not really anything Zenigata can do about his theory, regardless of whether he turns out to be right. Going back for Laetitia meant he had absolutely no chance of catching the Lupin gang, or even tracking where they might have gone; he’s got a hunch they’re still somewhere in Brazil, but that’s not enough to work with. And there’s still all the logistics and busywork that come after a caper like this—reports to write and fact-check and edit, charges to file against the surviving Nazis, favors to cash in so Laetitia can make her way back to France (and then, shortly, to Boston) without too much hassle.

Zenigata is going to be up to his neck in paperwork for the rest of the month making sure this mess is sorted out properly and without any mistakes, and that’s assuming everything goes smoothly when it comes to filing charges. He’d like to believe his annoyance at being chained to his desk is purely a result of not being able to hunt down the Lupin gang after having no choice but to let them slip away, but he’d be lying to himself. The truth of the matter is that he’s worried, and there’s nothing to be done about it now except grind through the paperwork and wait to see if they resurface any time soon.

Just as Zenigata’s considering calling it quits for the night, his desk phone rings. That in itself isn’t terribly unusual, but everybody who’s needed to speak with him about today’s chaos has come to him directly—the building’s internal lines have been tangled up for hours with all the cross-department communication. It must be someone from outside the building, then, and Zenigata has a strong hunch who it might be. “Inspector Zenigata,” he says automatically.

“It’s Jigen.”

That’s what Zenigata was hoping for. “I’m not going to bother asking where you are.” Jigen would never say, and it would be impossible to trace the call before he loses his patience and hangs up. Besides, he’s almost certainly calling from a payphone, and that’s only marginally more useful information than ‘probably somewhere in Brazil’.

“Good. Saves us some time.” He sounds about as terse as usual—his gruff demeanor doesn’t translate well to phone conversations—but there’s something else there. Maybe he’s tired. “Just wanted to let you know we made it to dry land.”

Well, that’s good. Pretty vague reassurance, though. “And you’re all alright?” He can’t be blamed for probing a bit. It’s basically his job.

A brief pause. Not a good sign. “We’re all alive, if that’s what you mean.” Definitely not a good sign. Jigen sighs, or maybe it’s just static on the line. “Look, pops, I’ll level with you. Lupin’s not doing too hot. He’ll live,” he adds hastily, cutting off any possible miscommunication.

So Zenigata’s hunch was right. It’s no victory, all things considered. “How bad is it?”

Another pause, though this one is less loaded. “Not as bad as it could’ve been. He didn’t get shot this time, for once.” Lupin had mentioned his plan to palm Geralt’s bullets before they disembarked. Sounds like he pulled it off. “But that prick really did a number on him. Broke some ribs, fucked up his arm. Nearly crushed his throat, looks like.”

Zenigata finds himself gripping the receiver more tightly as he imagines what might have happened to cause those injuries, anger bubbling into his chest. Lupin may be a criminal, but nothing he’s done would ever warrant such brutality. “And you and Goemon, you two have it under control?” If they needed a proper doctor, Zenigata might find himself too busy to notice any reports that might come in regarding notable patients in the area. He’s got a lot of work to do, after all.

“I think so. It’ll mostly just take rest. Lots of rest.”

“Are you sure you can make that happen? Lupin won’t like it.”

“We’ll chain him down if we have to.” Jigen says it flatly, but there’s a hint of humor under there.

The situation must not be too dire, if he’s able to crack jokes. “Well, thanks for telling me. I really appreciate it, Jigen.” He won’t admit that he’s been fretting since he had to make the call to turn the boat around.

“No problem. It’s what Lupin would want, anyway.” Jigen pauses again; there’s a faint tapping noise, like he’s drumming his fingers on the receiver a little too close to the mouthpiece. “Pops, do yourself a favor. Take a vacation once you’re done cleaning up the Nazi mess. We’re not gonna let Lupin do jack shit for at least a month or two, so you’d be wasting your time waiting up for us.”

Now that he mentions it, a vacation sounds nice. Zenigata does get to travel a lot, but only for work; he hardly has time to take in the sights or buy souvenirs. “A month or two, huh? I’m holding you to that. I want a clean bill of health before you even think about another heist, got it?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jigen sighs more than says. “Anyway, I’m gonna go. I’ll tell Lupin you said hi.”

And just like that, the line goes dead. In terms of the Lupin case, Zenigata still has no leads, but he can’t bring himself to be particularly upset about it. He got the information he was hoping for, and he can’t really ask for more than that. Instead, he returns to his paperwork and makes a mental note to look into attending Laetitia’s archaeology seminar in Boston next month.

Part 1 (by Pin) < --- > Part 2 (by Cosma) < --- > Part 3 (by Pin)

[painted-crow]

Submission time #17, with Varna

Hello Paint,

(Sorry if this is the second time you see this, I think my internet lagged the first time, I'm not trying to be annoying. I'm sorry.)

No problem! It only showed up once, your Internet did indeed lag.

Can I ask for your opinion on what my sorting could be? There's a possibility that even if I will hit the right answer I'll doubt it and run myself into another session of overthinking and I will never settle down on my sorting. This is one of the reasons why it's hard for me.

Huh. Sounds like if you have any Bird, you're not trusting it to settle on conclusions.

Other one is that I don't really see my morals a lot. Feelings, thoughts, wants, cravings, prejudices, yes, but not really motivations. The more I get new information the more I get stuck.

Burned Bird is looking like a potential candidate here.

For example, your last answer about what primaries need to be stable — badger sounded familiar, because I really don't feel I can make any positive change. It's true I always wanted to have a group of friends, but I do not have a community. Apart from a couple of friends and my family, there is no active community I'm a part of, or at least that I realize I am. But I really resonate with the wish to feel connected.

Okay, there's some big Loyalist stuff happening here.

My inner world is too messy to be a raven primary.

Hmm, I don't know about that. Firstly because every Bird looks different, but secondly because if you are a Bird, you're pretty Burned and may have been for a while. I wouldn't dismiss it out of hand, is all.

I don't know how much my inner people are important to me. Part of this is the fact that I view my family as always being on the side that will need the help most, I know how much we have, what we need, what are the inner thoughts and feelings. This view of mine seems to have a reason, not just simple 'it's my people', so that's why I don't know where I stand with snake primary.

That is interesting. It sounds kind of Badger: "these are the people who need help most."

I am messy inside, I base my actions and views on feelings a lot. I'm probably an internal based primary from this, but sometimes I really wish I'd be Badger.

I've been reading ahead a bit. You might be a burned Badger.

I will try to base this on the quiz, if it's alright.

Ambivalent answers:

If people in your family or community disagree with you, is it hard to act against their wishes?

If me and my family would disagree on something, like a big life decision or something life changing, yeah, I would care. I know I tend to see things only from one side or miss something important, so kind of need someone to come in and check the 'wiring'. But I guess I would push my point if I really know and think I'm right. It would be harder to act against their wishes, I think.

I never think this question is about 'right things' until I read that answer xD silly me. I think doing something and just disagreeing could be two different things in my head here. But I guess even if you don't see yourself as an active community member, the disapproval would still get to you.

The quiz answers that read to the effect of "I don't care, I'm gonna do what I think is right" are Lion answers. I don't get a Lion vibe from you; I get a mix of Bird system, Loyalist drives (particularly burned Badger, which tends to look Snakey), a whole lot of confusion, and some self-distrust.

"I tend to see things from only one side" I have a hard time believing this is true of you. You keep coming in with all this burned Bird stuff, even though your motivations are so Loyalist flavored. Current hypothesis is that you're a burned Badger with a burned Bird model.

Alternatively, you might be a burned Bird with a system that includes a lot of Loyalist ideals, and you consider those the most stable parts of your system so you're hanging on tight to them.

But I think it's more likely that you're a Badger who Burned and started leaning heavily on a Bird primary model, and then you burned that too--but you've been using it more recently, it's closer to the surface, and it shows up in your thought and language patterns.

Someone points out a flaw in your logic. Their argument makes sense, but there's something about it that just bothers you. Do you change your ways because of what they said?

In a high stakes situation, I probably would. I'd think about it, I'd try it in the other way, maybe continue or go back to my own because I've got experience and now my feeling might have a base. In a low stakes one, I would probably not care much.

Interesting. This supports the "Bird is a model" theory, I think.

What if everyone you loved left you? They betrayed you, abandoned you, or died, and you're hurting. What keeps you moving forward?

I'd get into work just, so I could cope. I don't know what to answer on this. There would be nothing to keep me moving. How can you wish to trust someone again when someone you loved betrayed you? You might want it, but not hope to.

It's not like I get to see and do stuff even if everyone I love is ok, so that would not really change anything. Work to not have to feel things and hope some sweet and warm community will adopt you, so you could start to heal.

This answer is so Burned Badger and it also makes me want to hug you. I get this feeling like this isn't entirely a hypothetical for you.

You're at a crossroads in your life. You've made your pro-con lists. You've talked to people you respect. Choice A looks like the right choice. It's the one everything is telling you is the right choice-- your lists and your advisers tell you it's the right choice, but it just feels wrong. So you choose Choice B.

I don't know. Only the situation show what my reaction would be. It would be selfish, but if something inside me nagged...

Interesting, this is the first Lion-ish thing you've said so far. It's normal to have a few answers that don't match though.

Do you think you're a good person?

So, no. People are nice, kind, not good. And not me.

🥺 the burned Badger is strong with this one

Or you can imagine the snarkiest snake secondary smile cheekily saying 'Oh, please, define good for me' just to avoid answering the question and to make the other party talk about this. You'd better listen to them talking about all kinds of ways a person can be good, that's how you hate the question and don't know how to answer it or don't find the answer.

I know the answer is not intended to be seen like this, but that's the image my mind paints to me.

Vehement answers:

What's your top priority?

For me this will be a very Lionish answer — my goals. I want to find my own place, I want to find something I love to do, something I'm passionate about. Not only find, but be able to take it and have it actively in my life. The skeptic in me wants to ask — who's still trying to make the world a better place? The same voice keeps asking who thinks like a lion? Confirmation bias would say I am a snake here.

I don't think either of those is you, from what you've written so far. I think you're trying to find your place in the world, somewhere you fit, and it's hard. You want somewhere stable to land so you can seek out connections without worrying about them slipping away. I might be reading too much into this.

Would you lie to an acquaintance to save their peace of mind? Would it make you feel grimy to do it?

Most likely I would not lie, but tell it in the kindest way possible, if there is such. At the same note, I would like to be both truthful and kind. Would I actually? This part of me is talking, but I know I'd do anything to avoid anything that is uncomfortable, and I'd lie if it wouldn't be a high stakes situation, and also lie in the high stakes one too.

Again, you don't trust yourself to do the right thing. Yikes, you're Burned.

There's also a big chance that if I don't know this person very well, I would maybe not even notice that it was a situation like this. Yeah, so that's why I can't sort myself, I get too much into this, plus I can say one thing but do or decide on a different thing on the spot.

Let's say I would not want to lie. It's better to know, and I believe how people speak, communicate with you things like that can mean a lot, and they can make it better or worst.

This whole answer is very burned Bird.

When you're making a decision and you're stuck, what should you do?

I'd want to go to my friends, if I could, to speak and talk it through, to see how I react to what they say and maybe for them to tell me what I do not see or talk me to do the thing I don't want to do. Nope, I'm not a raven.

No, but you do have a burned model. I'm starting to sound repetitive. I might end up trimming a few questions here.

Do you listen to your intuition?

I guess I do.

Lions are not this indecisive about it, unless Burned. But I don’t think you're a burned Lion. Or a healthy one for that matter.

You can’t help everyone in the world who needs it, but you wish you could.

So with this question I think I really can sense some dehumanization happening. I do care. But I know there is not much I can do. I don't think about this, I numb whatever is not helpful or needed.

Burned, burned Badger.

What's the point of me worrying and feeling bad about stuff while I can't do anything? None. So I worry and feel in the situations, where I can do something. When I can help and do something I feel better, maybe even, yeah, a good person. But if I only feel bad about something, without an action, this would make me feel bad about myself, that part is true. But I choose to help and feel good about that what I can do.

Here we're getting to the heart of things, I think--this is how you propped up your Badger with your Bird model. You set some reasonable, logical conditions under which you'd let yourself care.

But it doesn't seem to have worked for you. Shutting yourself off from caring ultimately seems to have made you feel worse.

If you were a Bird with a Badger model (like I was), and you tried to do this (like I did), you'd probably have been fine (yep). But you're not a Bird, and this is so intrinsic to you, and it's so much harder for you.

There are other healthy limits you can set on a Badger primary. I don't know if the ones I set for myself will work for you, because mine are pretty Birdy and you've already tried that.

Consider, though:

"But if I only feel bad about something, without an action, this would make me feel bad about myself..."

So far it seems like you've been avoiding this by trying to shut off your empathy in situations where you can't help, and that isn't working for you--it's hurting you not to let yourself feel.

Maybe instead, you could try to let go of some of the responsibility you're putting on yourself. You find someone you can't help, you wish them well, pray for them if that's something you do, but try to train yourself out of feeling shitty about not doing more. It's not your job to fix the whole world--there are other people who care about it too. Your impact matters, but caring for everyone has to be a team effort, you know?

Not taking action for every cause you see doesn't make you a hypocrite, and it doesn't mean you don't care. It means you know you have limits. You can't pour from an empty cup.

(I know, there are plenty of organizations and activists who will try to make you feel like an uncaring hypocrite for not giving them time or money or whatever. If you believe this, you'll end up feeling bad no matter what, because there are way more people doing this than any person could ever keep up with. They're just trying to guilt or shame you into focusing your energy on them specifically, and I have... limited patience with this tactic. They're in the wrong, not you.)

On a related note, maybe watch less news. It's designed to get an emotional reaction out of you--specifically, "everything sucks, this is horrible, I have to keep track of it by watching more news, I have to spread this news link in the hopes that someone who can help will see it." The news is designed to sustain itself, not to give you an informed view of what the outside world is like. It reports disasters, not kindness.

Quiz thinks I'm Lion, I don't know why I don't believe it.

Probably because you aren't.

I'm still afraid I'm Snake.

You're not a Snake. Snakes are okay with being Snakes (unless Burned). You're afraid you're a Snake because burned Badgers look like Snakes, and you're afraid that Burned is your default state of being.

The quiz really doesn't show that, but I really wish to have a big snake relationship. When I'm far from home I feel it's not my place, not my home, not my people, but I feel ok at home. I do think people only care about their and you have to become someones' special person to be cared about.

This sounds like sad Badger to me. You wish the world would be more universally caring, but you don't expect it to be.

I do trust my people to be honest and warm inside our relationship and after that trust is lost, I still can be glad for them, communicate, but I can't be vulnerable and honest anymore. There's like a special title, a VIP ticket that lets them see all of me. It hurts to interact with these people, you know something has died.

This is something I've heard Snakes say, but it also makes sense coming from any Loyalist whose trust is fragile due to life experiences.

And then there's family. It's not only that it is family, but everything, all of your experiences, I don't know what it is but it will probably take a lot for a couple of them to lose the VIP title. Actually I think apart from family not even friends get to that place. One did, no one after them did. I do not have that really important person in my life, but my closest family is important.

This does sound Snakey, but I don’t think you're a Snake.

But I am important to myself too, my freedom, my heart, my goals.

That's a good thing. Wonder if you've picked up a bit of a Snake model? You could do a lot worse than that.

This is my short ramble why I think I might be a snake.

I wouldn't say you couldn't be, but I don’t think it fits. You sound too careworn, for (mostly) the wrong reasons, to be a Snake.

Thank you for your opinion.

I'm really sorry if this got submitted twice.

Nope, all good! Hope this was helpful.

Hugs, and good luck!

[zerobotic]

Well, you asked for it and you can’t say I didn’t warn you :3

First off, the usual disclaimer that I did enjoy DH2. I thought it had some very interesting level design ideas with the clockwork mansion and crack in the slab, the new powers were very cool and fun to use, and it polished some of the rough edges from the first game’s mechanics. It’s just the story and such that disappointed me after how much I loved the first game.

So to start off here’s some of the things I found disappointing or frustrating (and keep in mind these are all just my personal feelings on the games):

“Spoiled rich person learns a lesson from poverty tourism” is a plot that gets on my nerves in general and that’s more or less what happened here with Emily’s story

Like, not to disagree with an anti-rich-people story but the first one did a much more poignant job of highlighting greed and corruption and letting you be the one actually fighting it, rather than putting you in the position of perpetuating it. It felt like the first game showed it, while the second game just preached about it.

Boy this sure did feel out of character for both Corvo and Emily. Emily watched her mother be murdered at ten years old for the sake of political power, and then was held hostage for six months while being told her father was executed for her mother’s death. She got a firsthand view of how much the people of the empire were suffering during this time, and then when she finally got rescued she was immediately kidnapped and used as a pawn again by yet more schemers after her mother’s throne. You cannot tell me that’s a person who would grow up to be spoiled and carefree and complacent with their position, or someone who wouldn’t give a shit about their people. Yes, I know that she was a headstrong, rebellious kid with an adventurous streak, and I’m not trying to claim she wouldn’t probably still prefer, on some level or another, to escape to the rooftops with a sword rather than being stuck in court. I’m just saying that kids grow up and change and whoever wrote the second game seems to be stuck on taking ten-year-old Emily at face value for her adult self’s personality too, instead of considering how the first game’s events might have actually influenced her. She’s got more than enough firsthand experience to know to be wary of scheming nobles. (Also I definitely got the feeling, playing the first game, that at least a bit of how Emily behaved at the Hound Pits was her trying to cope with what was happening.) You also can’t tell me that Corvo, father and royal protector of the current empress, man with the most reason and justification to be paranoid out of everyone in the whole damn empire after everything he’s been through, would be so negligent in paying attention to a coup that the first mission claims pretty much everyone in Dunwall knew was happening. 

Building off of that, in general it felt like the first game wasn’t allowed to have much of an impact. It pays lipservice to Jessamine’s death, and acknowledges Corvo having been a badass back then, but that’s....about it? Like I said in the other post, the first game felt so saturated in grief, both for Jessamine and for everything else going on in Dunwall, that it really influenced the overall tone of the game. The second one kinda feels like the first one never happened, or at least didn’t have any lasting influence on the characters or world, and it’s kind of jarring going from one to the other.

So with all that said, here’s my idea for a different DH2. Still using Karnaca as the setting and Delilah as the primary antagonist, just...different. 

"Delilah wants to use a reality-altering painting to change the world into her vision of it” is still a plot point. Except, instead of the end of the game, it’s the beginning. It’s a logical extension of her actions and powers during the Daud DLC - the plan to use Emily’s painting to take over almost worked til it was stopped, so there’s clearly potential there. She’ll just think bigger, more direct this time.

The game starts on a ship. Emily and Corvo are en route to Karnaca for some sort of diplomatic mission. We get to know them a little bit during this opening trip: Emily isn’t an absent, complacent ruler, she's a young woman who inherited a difficult throne as a child, after a series of traumatic events, and now she's trying hard to live up to her mother's legacy and prove herself worthy to an empire that still seems to only see her as the child she was during the interregnum. She’s doing her best, but she’s insecure about all of that, and spends a lot of time frustrated with the back and forth scheming of the nobles, trying to please everyone instead of putting her foot down and getting things done. Corvo is trying to keep her safe where he failed Jessamine, but court still isn’t his preferred arena either. 

The night before they’re due to arrive in Karnaca, we start getting hints that something is...off. Strange dreams, maybe?

They land in Karnaca and things are different than expected. But they don’t get time to look around, because there's guards there to arrest them, claiming they’re wanted criminals. They’ve got music boxes or something that can strip Corvo of his powers, and only one of them gets away while the other is taken. The one that gets away is stuck alone, disoriented, and hunted in an unfamiliar city - even if you play as Corvo, things are different than he remembers. More different than can be explained by just time. 

They meet Meagan Foster. She takes them to meet a group of ex-whalers (the player character doesn’t know who they are). They’re a group that got back in touch with each other in Karnaca after Daud left and the whalers split, and they still do shady shit, but these days it’s generally more smuggling type stuff and they’ve put down the assassin blades. They’re the equivalent of the loyalist home base in this game. Meagan is still the Samuel stand-in, taking the player places and narrating things as necessary. 

Information is shared and the player finds out that somehow, the world is changed from what they remember. Delilah is the empress, here, come by it what seemed like legitimately at some point in the 15 years between Jessamine’s death and now, and Emily and Corvo are wanted criminals. No one seems aware of the change except for the player and the whalers (who only remember it because of their experience with magic, though the player character doesn’t learn that til much later). 

Clearly it’s Delilah who did something, because she has magic, and she’s the one on the throne now. 

The Outsider shows up in their dreams that first night in the new world, but something is clearly wrong in the void, too, and it seems like he’s barely capable of reaching out and communicating with them. He offers the mark, but disappears before really getting a chance to explain anything. 

The player goes through the game now with the goal of finding out what happened, how it happened, and how it can be fixed. DH2 and DOTO explained a lot more than I felt they should’ve, at times, and I preferred how the first game balanced worldbuilding with mystery. So, let things be explored and figured out along the way. 

Things are real bad in this universe. From Emily's perspective as she goes through the game, we get commentary questioning whether or not she was doing a good job, and comparing it to how things are in Delilah's world. There’s lots of corruption and poverty and people suffering, and the question "is this just Delilah's world? How much of this going on in mine too? In trying to navigate court instead of putting my foot down, was I failing my people in the end after all? Would it have been better if my mother was still the empress?" The difference between this and what DH2 did is that she was trying, there was just a lot hindering her, including her own doubts. In this one, those questions aren’t preaching, they’re a sign that she does care and is pained by the idea of her people suffering like this again, by the mere possibility that it might not be just Delilah’s world. 

Corvo and Emily have distinct perspectives, not just the same lines very slightly altered. 

The bloodfly infestations are either 1) a natural thing that wasnt supposed to turn ugly like this and has been affected by Delilah’s magic, or 2) wholly the product of unnatural magic. None of this "we need them and they’re always like this, just not this bad" stuff. if you're gonna repeat the plague motif, make it actually horrifying, like the rat plague was. In fact, there’s obvious magic influence here and there in general - maybe not quite as thorough as at Brigmore Manor, but it’s present enough to give you the creeping feeling that things aren’t right, here, visual confirmation of Delilah’s influence, that things have been changed and twisted from their normal state of things. Hell, maybe this is where the hollows from DOTO come in, the original world and Delilah’s altered version of it trying to bleed through each other in some spaces. Maybe that’s a different explanation for the crack in the slab mission, even. 

Actually, if you’re gonna repeat the plague motif, lean into the similarities between the rat plague era and now. Have them be reminded here and there by things they see, recount what happened and how terrible it was, compare it to now. Give NPCs lines about the comparison and how some of them left Dunwall only to be stuck living through something like this a second time. Let the first game have happened and had an impact, folks, cmon.

On a similar note, if you’re gonna keep Delilah's backstory the same when we finally learn it, let Emily and Corvo get mad about it. They lived through the first game - what right does Delilah have to talk like she's got a monopoly on suffering and that's why she should have the throne?

Delilah's mistake was assuming Emily was a sheltered child who wouldn’t come for her, rather than someone who's already been through a lot and come out on top. That was almost a satisfying thing about the second game but they messed up the execution of the whole concept and I want it to actually pay off. 

I’m not sure if the targets in this one should be the same or how much should change there. Honestly, except for Breanna, the targets in DH2 felt a lot less relevant to what was going on than the DH1 targets did, like...why are half these people even at this ritual? But for simplicity’s sake let’s keep it as close as we can, while also adjusting for the fact that this reality has been tailor-made for Delilah and her buddies. Perhaps the Duke is only the Duke here because things were rewritten to put one of Delilah’s allies in charge, and it was supposed to still be his father. Hypatia isn’t the crown killer (what even was that plot point honestly), she’s the doctor they found to help Delilah recover after her time in the void, and now they’ve rewritten things to imprison her in the institute to keep her quiet and out of the way, and you get wind of it and go to see what she knows. Etc. Is Sokolov involved in this version of things? I dunno! But speaking of Sokolov I want some sort of explanation for where the other surviving loyalists are, damnit. 

Delilah did something in and to the void, just like in canon, but it actually has a visible impact here (beyond just a total aesthetic redesign of the void between games that never gets commented on). The void is struggling under her influence when you find shrines, and you never know what you're gonna find at one of them, or what the Outsider is gonna be like, if he even shows up. Honestly, I’m not a huge fan of the way DH2 gave him a human backstory, because I liked the mystery there behind what he was and what the void was, but this is open to go either way, either with Delilah finding his death site like in canon, or some other way she found to influence it. I’m not sure how the progression would go of how the void changes over the course of the game, but it would be cool to get to help/save the Outsider in some kinda way. 

Finding Corvo's childhood home should have more impact. Let it be like when you find the saferoom in Dunwall tower, in the first game. A temporary refuge in a dangerous place, full of obvious memory and grief - not so much for the time spent here since that's so long in the past, but for all that's been lost, everything they've been through and are in the middle of going through. Especially if you're playing Emily - this is the home of the father she just lost.

Let the heart be vague and ominous again, and let our interactions with it be sad, especially as Emily! I’m still messed up about the first time I heard "the doom of Pandyssia has come to the city" in DH1, and the lines about the floodwaters and the plague victims, give me stuff like that! Especially in a world that isn’t meant to exist the way it currently is, where things have been twisted almost beyond recognition. And give me lines that remind Emily of the mother she lost and how this is the first time she's heard her voice since she was a child!

Give us more on citizens and how they're suffering in this world, the way the first game showed us plague victims who died in each other's arms, journals from the desperate and dying, living people sent to the flooded district. Let it be a reminder to Emily why it's worth it, why she has to change the world back and what she wants to be fighting for when she gets her throne back. Another reason to question - has she been doing all she can? (Alternatively, a source of righteous fury for high chaos Emily.)

This is a journey of self discovery for Emily, either low or high chaos. It's about realizing she hasn’t been doing all she could, despite her intentions, because she's been trying to please everyone and in the end it still wasn’t good enough. She needs to stop living under her mother's shadow and come into her own (and the heart plays a role in this epiphany, probably. This might actually come to a head when she has to let her mother's spirit go, if we're gonna keep that plot point.)

High chaos Emily is similar but in a more "alright no more nice empress" kinda way whereas low chaos is more about conviction to put her foot down to do what's right.

You meet people during the game who in a good ending become part of her new council. Common people, who are more in touch with what needs to be done. It pisses nobles off but she's determined to do better, after everything. It helps both her and Corvo come to terms with the whole safety thing, because you can't ever make sure you're totally safe but you can try to make sure the empire can keep going should something happen to its ruler.

In fact, part of Corvo's perspective on this game probably would involve him still wanting to keep Emily out of things for safety's sake, and wondering if sheltering her from knowledge of magic and such contributed to this situation.

When it's revealed who the whalers are, it's late in the game after we've already come to like them a lot. They don't betray you like the loyalists did, but it should still feel like a punch to the gut for Emily and Corvo.

They don’t know where Daud is, haven’t seen him since the whalers disbanded .

Billie talks about that whole thing, and it's complicated. She decides maybe she should try to find him, after all. Cue DLC, which is about finding Daud, and helping/saving him, and the two reconciling and Billie finding some kind of...if not redemption, then absolution. A parallel to the first game’s DLC, Billie getting an arc like that in Emily’s game the way Daud got that arc in Corvo’s game. Y’know, instead of DOTO going and undoing all of Daud’s character growth. 

I know I’m kind of handwaving the actual mechanics of who the targets are and how you actually go about uncovering what happened and how you can fix it and take down Delilah in the end, but this is all just. Concepts. If I were to try to write this as a fic or something I’d have to actually sit down and work out all those details, but for now this is something that’s just been living in my head since like an hour after I finished DH2 for the first time a couple years ago.

(I did warn you it was gonna be long lmao)

[weggocs]

Game of Thrones

Name: Talison, no surname

Age: 31

Gender: Female

Sexual Orientation: Anyone, she’s not particular

Status: Single

Religion (i’m sorry, i fully made one up but it’s hype i swear): The Iron Pommel

Physical:

Height: 5’8”

Weight: 135

Physique: She’s toned and muscular, especially in her arms. I actively love women a lot and made her buff by design. She’s not, like, scary, but she’s definitely quite impressive, especially at a time when women were meant to be delicate. She’s average height, the product of protein and exercise, and holds herself with the confidence of a person who’s taken a lot of lives. Not threatening, per se, but certainly able.

Face: She’s been hit in the face more than a couple times and it shows. There’s a small bump in her nose from when she was struck in the face with a sparring sword, as well as a scar under her chin from a rock she tripped into. She’s on the laid-back end of confident, and a lot of her thoughts speak through her eyebrows. Her lips are fairly thin and her face overall is an odd mix of softened angles. Her hair, which began dark brown but gradually lightened after two decades of sunlight, is typically pulled back from her face in a ponytail but if it were down it would fall beyond her shoulders. She keeps it long against her better judgement because hey, she’s survived this long.

Clothes: The most notable article of clothing she uses is a length of cloth she uses to bind her chest. (NEVER do this, by the way, it’s super bad for you--it just helps me relate more to her at a time when binders didn’t exist.) It’s a practicle measure to allow for more unhindered movement but binding her chest down every single day has damaged her ribs and she can experience negative affects from that, which is why she tends to leave it off when she knows she’s not likely to encounter anyone. Beyond that she wears very little armor, as she’s generally surpassed the need for it. Her wardrobe is entirely brown, with a leather breastplace over a thin cotton shirt and loose leather pants that allow for better movement. There are a few tight belts around her waste, one slung over her hip to hold her longsword while the others support her axe, knife, and waterskin. Her shoes aren’t fashionable and an immediate goal for her is to find new ones; they’re worn down in the soles and the fur casing is falling apart. She doesn’t carry a heavy coat when she can avoid it which is most of the summer, and tends to travel north when the summer is at its climax.

Personality: Talison is generally very reasonable. She knows her strength to a degree, though there is an element of cockiness to her, and generally avoids pissing off the wrong people but doesn’t take insults lightly. As she tends to travel alone, her social skills aren’t very refined, and she tends to be quite blunt when she thinks someone’s trying to verbally outwit her. It’s an area of insecurity for her. Overall she’s quite confident and very dedicated to her religion. She refuses to be separated from her blades. She’s a decent judge of character but airs on the side of caution nonetheless, and prefers fighters to diplomats. She’s also a bit of a flirt, especially with women.

House: None

Occupation: She belongs to the Iron Pommel (it’s a religion I made up, very much swords based, there’s an explanation at the bottom!) which would make her an Iron Ward. She’s nomadic and primarily provides for herself but is always willing to do some menial tasks in exchange for a warm bed and a bowl of stew.

History/Family Relations: Nothing here is incredibly relevant. She was a lowborn child of a cobbler in King’s Landing. Her mother died during the winter of Talison’s birth and her father wasn’t a good enough cobbler to warrant a business. It’s not a notable story and it has very little sway on Talison now, though the early need to fend for herself contributed heavily to her independence in her early life and even now.

Strengths (I bunched it in with weaponry):

Talison is pretty much equally skilled in both hands. This is a popular trait amongst Wardens and part of the reason they’re so dangerous in combat. She has three swords and a handful of knives for battle. The swords and general weaponry are as follows because I’m so into this stuff that I had to look up specific types of swords and now you get to reap that reward:

Two sabers, very slight curve in the blades. Their sheethes are strapped to her back so she has to reach over her shoulders to bring them out. She favors these as she can easily use both simultaneously; they’re both balanced for one-handed use.

A large longsword, built for two-handed combat. She picked this one up by accident the last time she was caught in combat without her favored weapons. It’s quite heavy, inconvenient, and generally a nuisance. She would use it to chop wood if she weren’t afraid of spurning her god in the process. It sits on her left side and tends to swing around and bruise her thigh while she walks.

A small axe hangs at her other side. It’s not for killing but would do the job. She uses it for wood because she relies on fire for food and warmth.

She also has a decent amount of knives. Her first was actually a small knife, more for the purpose of eating, that she shoved through an assailant’s eye when she was twelve and new to the Pommel. She carries it with her because it comes in handy and because if she didn’t she believes her god would kill her. She also carries a thick-bladed dagger at her back and a couple smaller knives strapped to her thigh for the purpose of throwing. That’s the most long-range she gets and retrieving them can still be a hassle.

Weaknesses: Talison’s practically useless at long-range. She can throw a knife at a decent distance but she only carries two and after that she’s a sitting duck. No armor makes her a great target for arrows and she adamantly refuses to pick up a bow. She tends not to associate with archers as a result.

Fears: HORSES. She absolutely LOATHES horses to the point of genuine fear. They’re unnatural. They’re ghastly, unnatural beasts with huge eyes and a disgusting, mishapen skeleton and being around them makes her antsy. She has never mounted one and doesn’t intend to change that, in fact she’s repulsed by the thought. It would make her life much easier but she has nowhere to be and walking for hours on end beats a single minute on a horse.

Beyond that she’s a decently confident person, but does have reasonable fears like being caught in an early winter or her god foresaking her in combat.

Extras! (Romantic Stuff, Goals, Religion Explanation):

Personal Goals: Her primary goal is to introduce people to the Iron Pommel, which she tends to do by traveling to the most impoverished areas of large cities and speaking with the people with the least to lose. The threat of losing familial ties isn’t as significant there. Her secondary goal is to, ahem, encounter members of the nine great houses of Westeros. It’s a fun game for her and gives her an incentive to travel beyond the South. It’s like a more ambitious version of “making the eight.”

Potential Romantic...Folks: Petyr Baelish, Ramsay Bolton, Sandor Clegane, I Could Go On

Additional: The only reason she hasn’t contracted skin cancer from the amount of sun exposure she gets is because I don’t want her to die. On particularly hot days she sometimes forgos her leather armor and shirt entirely purely for the sake of Big Gay, and she has a brand on her mid-torso from first joining the Iron Pommel. It’s small and decently healed now but burn-damage that severe is typically visible for a long time after it’s done. It’s in the shape of the tip of a sword, nothing fancy. Beyond that she has scars all over her body - anyone who fights as much as she does would - but they’re mostly old as she’s good enough at anticipating blows by now to deflect or get out of the way.

Religious Explanation (Still workshopping! If any parts seem overpowered PLEASE don’t hesitate to let me know!):

Name/Deity: The Iron Pommel; The High Warden of Steel

Followers: Iron Wards

Lifestyle: They’re a nomadic people who tend to travel alone. Upon converting to the Pommel, one relinquishes all familial ties. No surname, no banners, no home - they must instead strike out on their own to better their skills relentlessly and collect stained souls for their God. They don’t actively kill people for the sake of it, but they are honor-bound to accept a challenge.

They are nomadic during the Summers but must settle during the Winter or else sail as far south as they can reach to wait it out. They can’t always rely on the dwindling respect for their people to secure them a place in a known house and, especially recently, have been forced to stay in the shadows of southern cities like King’s Landing, Highgarden, and Sunspear.

The religion’s forces rely exclusively on recruitment. Members cannot have children and every winter brings the death of droves of Wards who lost the race against the cold. Their numbers dwindle as a result, and the urgency to convert has risen dramatically since the past couple winters, especially with the fabled ferocity of the oncoming season.

Beliefs: They believe that upon killing a person, that person’s essence becomes imprisoned in whatever weapon was used to end their life. Because of that, they carry with them every weapon they have ever used to kill a person. The process of blessing a weapon to be fit to house the souls is incredibly ritualistic, as is the process of maintaining them. They have to be cleaned and sharpened every single day. Otherwise, the protection they believe they receive from their God will be rescinded as punishment. Because of the strict rules about bringing every weapon with them coupled with their nomadic lifestyle, Wards often restrict their weapon use to the blades already at their disposal. Talison herself has three swords, which isn’t unusual for her people but can make her cleaning routine tedious.

Status/Common Knowledge: They were once vastly respected and commonly known but as their numbers have dwindled, the Iron Pommel’s name has shrunk with them. The more educated and wealthier tend to have a grasp of them but the youth of the common people either don’t grasp the gravity of their position or have no knowledge of them entirely. Among soldiers the mindset varies: either they’re looked up to as loan warriors or regarded as pretentious scum. There’s also their more progressive policy of inviting women into the order which clashes with norms on a number of levels--the sworn lack of childbearing and skilled wielding of weapons to name a few.

Identifiable Traits: There is no particular form of dress for Wards but they do receive a brand when they first join. It’s a clumsy business as there isn’t any particular place for Wards to go to get their mark. Typically the converter holds one of their blades over the fire until it’s red and presses it to the newcomer as an act of spreading the High Warden of Steel’s blessing and the transaction ends. Talison’s is on her torso, above her gut, and it’s quite small now.

As they don’t typically walk around naked, the best way to identify a Ward is by the ridiculous amount of weaponry they’ll be carrying combined with some form of lightweight armor, if any. They can’t afford to be weighed down by plate- or chainmail and tend to gravitate towards leather instead.

Statistics: As previously mentioned, numbers have been dwindling at an alarming rate. The Long Summer brought some relief for the trend, but the past couple decades haven’t been kind. Where there used to be hundreds in Westeros, dozens in every large city, now one would be hardpressed to find more than one even in the Capitol. It’s rumored that a steady number has been moving down south to settle in Dorne but the truth of the matter is unknown.

[libraviathanff14]

LFRP - Vynnie (Updated)

NAME: J’Vynia Tia (Vynnie is preferred)

AGE: Early 20′s

RACE: J tribe Miqo’te

GENDER: Male

SEXUALITY: Gay/Poly

ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Neutral

MARITAL STATUS: In a Relationship

SERVER: Balmung

Physical Appearance

HAIR: Black, medium hair. Sometimes pomped and slicked back, other times down and falling to just about his jawline.

EYES: One green, one golden-yellow

HEIGHT: 5′10

BUILD: He has a lithe frame, some muscle tone, but it would best be described as a gymnast’s body. His shoulders are broader than one might expect.

DISTINGUISHING MARKS: He has a few freckles dotted across his cheeks and nose. There are no scars visible, but he does have a few tattoos; a snake wrapped around his left arm with the head of the snack landing on the back of his left hand, and also three phoenix feathers on his right wrist.

COMMON ACCESSORIES: A choker, two gold earrings, and various rings he switches out. Kept underneath his shirt or in a sealed pocket is a pink stone.

Personal Details

PROFESSION: Model, Dancer, Thief, Arcanist-in-Training

HOBBIES: Drinking, Larceny, Bathing, Hunting, Sparring, Dancing, Motorbiking

DISLIKES: Bitter Foods, Buzzkills, The Cold, Tough Decisions

RESIDENCE: Living with one of his boyfriends until he gets a new place.

FEARS: His twin dying, losing everything around him, dark magics, abandonment

Relationships

CHILDREN: None

PARENTS: He doesn’t speak with them anymore

SIBLINGS: His twin sister @miqojak​

Traits

extroverted / introverted / in between

disorganised / organised / in between

close minded / open-minded / inbetween

calm / anxious / in between

disagreeable / agreeable / in between

cautious / reckless / in between

patient / impatient / in between

outspoken / reserved / in between

leader / follower / in between

empathetic / unemphatic / in between

optimistic / pessimistic / in between

traditional / modern / in between

hard-working / lazy / in between

cultured / uncultured / in between

loyal / disloyal / in between

faithful / unfaithful / in between

Additional Info:

SMOKING HABIT: never / sometimes /frequently / to excess

DRUGS: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

ALCOHOL: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess

Story Hooks

Model: Starting out as a job to work off a debt, Vynnie now regular models for Iskandar Reza, whether in shows, or just by showing off the Thavnairian’s various designs. Outwardly, he will bemoan his profession to certain people to save face, but it’s clear that he enjoys the lifestyle.

Dancer: Along with modeling, Vynnie is a dance student of Iska’s, and works very hard at the art- using the Thavnairian martial art as his primary form of combat. Interested in keeping a tough guy composure to those he’s not close to, he often runs off to various secluded locations to practice his dances in the sun with the hope of not being seen unless he wants. In that same vein, he uses this method of combat when he goes hunting and can sometimes be found felling beasts with chakrams and intricate, magical dances.

Aspiring Summoner: Ever anxious about his abilities to survive and protect those he cares for, Vynnie has sought out a mentor for arcanima with the ultimate goal of learning the art of summoning. He has recently found a mentor in Rinha’li Dhavha, but is likely to search for more information on the ancient allagan art should the curiosity find him.

Former Yakuza: After a brief, yet troubled, period of time, Vynnie has finally managed to escape the yakuza life. This is recent, and so he still is paranoid of the repercussions, so he is constantly on edge. He does his best to avoid running into former colleagues, or even sketchy locales in general- at least until the heat dies down. However, he has a very eastern tattoo of a viper that isn’t always covered, and he’s likely to be quite recognizable with his eyes, as well. It wouldn’t be unheard of for him to be spotted by some gangster/criminal, amicable or otherwise.

Other: Vynnie has lots of hobbies, and likes to hunt in different places. I am down for any hooks you might have- even if they seem left field, hit me up and we can chat about the plausibility!

What I’m Looking For

I like to think that Vynnie is a complex character, and is adaptable to many themes. I am not looking to get him involved in super evil criminal stuff at the moment, as he just got out of that and I do not like writing Vynnie, specifically, in that environment. However, writing him as an anti-hero, or antagonist to some more evil characters isn’t off the table. Pettier crimes like thievery and what not, is totally cool. I don’t mind any theme, from slice of life to darker/mature, to adventurous ones. I just ask that whatever is desired of my character and me as the writer are communicated from the beginning. Vynnie has a lot of romantic ships, currently, so another isn’t going to happen without a long drawn out plot. I ask that all of my RP partners be 18+ to avoid any awkwardness! I like to RP in game, mostly, but if you want to RP in Discord, I ask that you please be patient with me as I am quite terrible at it and cannot allocate the energy for consistent replies unless I get to do a sit down session! Thank you for reading through this LFRP! Feel free to shoot me a message, or add me on Discord @Vynnie9917

[deihy]

SLYTHERIN ADORA AN EXPLANATION

My take on this tweet made by Noelle Stevenson.

__________________________________________________

Ok, so, as much as I liked that Hufflepuff Catra was confirmed, reading “Adora is a Slytherin trying to be a Gryffindor” has been the single most interesting thing of this week, and is what I wanted to focus on because how can Adora NOT be a Gryffindor? Well, I tried to find that answer and I think I get it now.  

But, before we begin:

*Disclaimer: I’ll be using the split model created by “thesortinghatchats”, which divides each house into a Primary (why a person does things, their priorities and motivations) and a Secondary (how a person does things, what are their methods and styles to accomplish goals). I like it because I think it allows for more nuance in character analysys, but I also know there are people who don’t find the system useful and may want to skip this.

With that clarified, here we go:    

________________________________________________________________

The reason is so hard to think of Adora as anything other than a Gryffindor is that she IS one: a Gryffindor Secondary.  

                                 “So, what do we do now?

                                 We do what we do best.

                                         We improvise”.

                                   -  Adora, Roll With It.

By that I mean three things:

1.   Adora has a knack for improvisation. She may plan beforehand, but if the plan falls apart (which tends to happen to her a lot), it doesn’t matter since she won’t let that stop her. For instance, she might not be able to heal the land of Plumeria, but she can try to stop the Horde soldiers that are there. On top of that, she is very good at making things as she goes and at using the tools available to her advantage. (See: Every Catra vs Adora fight ever).

2.   Her way of doing things is to be bold and direct (both in her words and actions).

Adora’s MO is to decide what should be done, and then doing it, no matter how hard. Be it joining the Rebellion the same day she leaves the Horde, fighting for Plumeria when its people won’t do it themselves, or going against Glimmer’s wishes and leaving for Beast Island to save Entrapta. And it’s the same for how she talks; most of the time, you know what she’s thinking and how she’s feeling because she’ll just tell you if you ask her, even if she’s not the best of communicators.

This does not mean she is incapable of being discreet (sneaking in and out of The Fright Zone and then of Bright Moon), or of telling lies (to catch the Horde spy), or considering other possibilities before acting (the different plans in “Roll with it”). However, these are the exception, not the rule and, in the case of the lies, you can see how uncomfortable she feels when she has to tell them.

3.   This unwillingness to let fear stop her or to be dishonest in who she is or what she thinks, it inspires people. Like in the cases of Perfuma, Huntara and Angella.

She’s not a Gryffindor Primary, though.

Why? Because she values her friends, her most important people, more than anything else. 

     “If you wanna take down Adora, you have to go for the heart.”

                                    - Catra, Princess Prom.

Ok, so. Being a Slytherin tends to be associated with selfishness, with a lack of care for anyone other than yourself and your own, and this is seen as a bad thing. Though it can be a bad thing, depending on the situation, for a Slytherin is just right to value yourself and those who are important to you, and they expect the same from everybody else.

In Adora’s case, she had Catra and Shadow Weaver. She felt she could be herself with the former and that she needed to make the latter proud. Once she found out Shadow Weaver had manipulated her, that all she had ever been told was a lie, and that Catra was aware of it, it became very hard to separate her best friend of the betrayal she felt. When Catra refused to come with her, attacked her and then left her in Thaymor, Adora was left with no one.  

That’s when Bow and Glimmer come in, and by being kind, supportive and patient with her, the way Shadow Weaver never was, they quickly became two of the most important people for Adora. From then and throughout the whole series, Adora has established, again and again, that she fights for her friends, and the surest way to hurt her, or to get her to do what you want is by threatening to hurt the people she loves.

These are my friends. They've been kind to me. Something you never were.

               You never loved me. You just played your twisted mind games.

                                           (…) This is who I am.

                    You hurt my friends, so, now you're gonna pay.

                             - Adora, in the Shadows of Mystacor.

                                                    I'm not Mara.

                                 I'm not the She-Ras of the past.

                                I didn't do this to fulfill my destiny.

                                 I became She-Ra to help others.

                  My attachments, my friends, are a part of who I am.

                                          - Adora, Light Hope.

                                    Your mission is to fix the planet.

                                  My mission is to help my friends.

                                           - Adora, Light Hope

In Plumeria, it isn’t not being able to heal the land what makes her feel bad, is the fact she couldn’t be what her friends needed her to (all I've done is disappoint an entire kingdom. I'm sorry I let you guys down). In “Light Hope”, she had to choose between healing the planet as She-ra, or healing Glimmer, and her response was: “I'll do whatever you want. (…) But I have to heal Glimmer first”.

Friends are also her Berserk button. It isn’t until Catra implies to have hurt Bow that Adora forcefully grabs her in “Princess Prom”. In “the Promise”, Adora only reason to be angry at Catra is that she kidnapped Bow and Glimmer and both were hurt because of it. And once she realizes Catra won’t stop trying to hurt her friends, is when Adora finally stops trying to convince her to come with her.

On top of that, they are also the fastest way to crush her. When both Light Hope and Shadow Weaver tell her she puts her friends in danger just by being near them, or that she’s going to fail them and make everything worse, it’s almost enough for her to give up and do what they want. This is much worse when it comes from her friends’ mouth directly: Well, maybe your best isn't good enough! If it was, my mother would still be here!

To clarify, none of the above means Adora doesn’t have a moral code or that she wouldn’t go against a loved one to do what she thinks is right. After all, she and Bow disobeyed a direct order from Glimmer to save Entrapta. (see also: Catra and Adora’s relationship after she the latter leaves the Horde).

What it does mean however, is that Adora’s motivations will be at least a little tinted by her need to put the people she values first.

Adora thinks is possible for people to change and that others deserve that opportunity, but she also needs to see if the person who raised her (and who she once loved) has any good deep, deep, deep inside of her. She thinks deactivating the heart should be their priority, but it also helps that Light Hope betrayed Mara and then lied to Adora, so she doesn’t feel she can trust her. She wants to protect everyone, but because that’s the hero she thinks Glimmer deserves. And she can fight war against the Catra while still missing her all the time. 

                                      I told you, we can't trust her.

                                            She betrayed Mara.

                                                She lied to me.

                                             She's the bad guy!

                                               - Adora, Fractures.

Now, let’s talk about loyalty. As I said before, Slytherins believe one must do right by the people who are important to you. For Adora, in particular, it means you shouldn’t try to hurt, lie, manipulate or use the people you claim to love.

Just look at how much she hates being used as bait by Glimmer, How angry she is on behalf of Mara because Light Hope (Someone who she loved) betray her, but also how angry she is that Light Hope lied to her as well, and how upset she gets when Glimmer snaps at Bow or her. There’s also the anger and frustration she feels when she realizes Shadow Weaver has been lying and manipulating her all these years.

Speaking of Shadow Weaver, I personally believe this is also why Adora’s bond with her breaks so easily in comparison to the one she has with Catra. I think after the first time Adora saw her hurting Catra, a part of the love she had for SW just vanished, because, how can you say you love me when you hurt someone that you know I love? Plus, once she could compare SW’s brand of love with the one Bow and glimmer gace her, it was easy for Adora to see SW wasn’t doing right by her, so she didn’t feel she owed her anything anymore.

                          It's my fault! The Horde nearly destroyed Etheria.

                                         We were barely able to stop it.

                  If this plan isn't perfect, if I'm not perfect, everyone will

                                               - Adora, Roll with It

One more thing to talk about is Adora’s sense of self. As I said earlier, Slytherins don’t just care about their important people, they care about themselves. Adora, though, is the kind of Slytherin that ties all of her self-worth to her ability to do right by her closest ones.  

Try re-watching the series or reading the episode transcripts and you will find plenty of examples of Adora expressing her need to be worthy of her friends. She needs to be the hero Glimmer deserves, she feels the need to apologize if her powers are not enough because she hates letting her friends down, she feels she should present herself as She-ra because she’s much better than plain old Adora, and so on and so forth.

   From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you were different. You were

                                                       - Special?

                No, what you always told me was that I didn't matter.

                             I was special only as long as I obeyed you

                                      - Adora, The Prince of Power

It’s funny that Adora would say this to Shadow Weaver and recognize it as a negative thing, but not realize she’s still following this pattern of basing her worth on what someone else want (Or what she thinks they want, at least).

                                       What? Did you really think this was about you?

                              - Catra, The Battle of Bright Moon

Something else I noticed is that Adora has a pattern of making things personal. Things are her fault, it was her idea, her plan, her decisions, her responsibility, her destiny, her planet. Nowhere is clearer than in her interactions with Catra. Due to their abusive upbringing, Adora grew up loving Catra, but also seeing her as her responsibility. Once they are on opposite sides of the war, Catra is always hers. She always goes after Catra first, whatever she does is in order to hurt Adora, and she is the only one capable of stopping her. Both in Battle of Brightmoon and in Princess Prom, her need to go after Catra leads her to get distracted by her.  

_______________________________________________________________

Final thoughts: I think Adora’s character Arc has been about accepting more of her Slytherin side, the one that concerns her own self worth. It has taken a long time, and there’s still work for her to do, particularly with regards to her belief that she only deserves love if she is useful to others, and in realizing that she is allowed to want things for herself, just because. Still, she has managed to move past taking the blame for everything, especially what involves Catra. We can see this when Adora refuses to let Catra blame her for opening the portal, and later on when she won’t let Glimmer blame her for losing Salineas. She also learns to become more vulnerable with the people she loves; by telling Glimmer she needed her.

I hope we get to see her put herself first more in the future.

_______________________________________________________________

[bustedbernie]

Hi @heatherleee .

I don’t “hate” anyone. But as far as politicians go, Sanders has a comportment that is totally unacceptable. And it’s not just about policies.

So, i worked for the Obama and Clinton campaigns in 2008, 2012, and 2016. I’ve volunteered for local and state level candidates in both the Albuquerque area and in rural parts of New Mexico. This is to say that I am a democrat and have been working for actual democrats for longer than Bernie himself has been. That’s part one why I dislike Bernie. He is not a democrat. He is not “blue.” If he wants support from actual democrats, than that means he’d have to do several things. 1) either apologize for his past and current antagonism toward democrats or at least claim to “evolve” on this. 2) fundraise BIG for downballot democrats both in his home state and across the country. 3) Work for the actual party 4) register as a democrat through and through and run as a democrat in his senate elections. He hasn’t really done any of this. I’m sorry, but if he is expecting people like me who have spent time calling, canvassing, data banking, knocking on doors and donating to be on his side if he got the nomination, that’s insane. This is hard work and takes a lot of sweat, tears and dollars. We see him as a conman who is using our carefully built infrastructure while not doing the above to help. We don’t stand for that. And add in him getting involved with OUR campaign and saying OUR man, the first black president, needed to face a primary while we were dealing with a very powerful candidate emerging in Mitt Romney? It was not only totally irresponsible and disrespectful, it was a slap in the face. Don’t forget that Bernie has long held onto the idea that democrats and republicans are “the same.” Why would I like him after all that? 

Going on, I can’t forgive nor overlook his sexism and racism. This is kinda a big deal. His plans are not intersectional. Even to cite himself and many of his supporters, he bases much of his ideology on marxism. Marxism comes from a specific time and place and our point in history is quite different. I am quite smitten with many radical thinkers and philosophers, which is why I see Marxism and marxist writings/thoughts as foundational to a certain worldview in the same way Aristotle is. They’re great, but we’ve built on that worldview and adapted it, and we now have thinkers who speak not only of the facetious nature of “revolution,” but also the need for intersectionality and how “revolutions” often come at the expense of oppressed groups. Bernie’s ideology has not caught up. If you hear me say things like “Hillary Clinton or Kamala Harris are far more progressive than Bernie Sanders,” this is why. Their plans actually address issues of racial justice and gender issues while Sanders sees them, at best, as a secondary issue. He himself has called them “distractions,” while also peddling the idea that “a rising tide lifts all boats.” This just isn’t the case. If he is truly as revolutionary, futuristic, and truly the justice candidate, why in the world can’t he support or speak to issues that black americans, queer americans and indigenous folks deal with everyday? Saying a “rising tide lifts all ships” is to ignore us, to leave us unseen and to castigate the very base of the democratic party. Why can he speak to the so-called “white working class” but not anyone else? 

We can use your housing plan as an example. On the surface, I support many of Bernie’s goals and even many of his plans. But on this issue, you can see that he is peddling ideas that became popular in the 60s and 70s and were implemented in some areas. But, his program is outdated and racist, and doesn’t address the need for black wealth building programs. It also uses blanket policies that aren’t good for certain urban areas. Furthermore, his plan makes little room for new housing development which is actually the largest issue with rent and home prices currently. His plan would actually perpetuate problems by ignoring the supply-side issue. This is seen throughout much of his policies and proposals. 

Let’s get into why that’s an issue. Bernie supporters will tell us that it should be “just about policy,” yet, Joe Biden has now created a public transport plan that is the gold standard in this primary. Elizabeth Warren’s housing plan addresses the issues I outlined above. Kamala Harris’ plan did as well and arguably was better than either Warren or Biden’s current plans. Both have been attacked by Bernie supporters on this issue in breathtaking ways. They have been labelled land developers (which i’m not sure as to why that’s a pejorative), neoliberals, centrists, republicans even. This is not a policy debate. In this example, I’ve mentioned three candidates that have had policies. Instead of engaging on the policies, they attack the very character of the candidates. Whether you support Biden, Buttigieg, Warren or yes, even Sanders, they ALL have very similar goals and ideas. They may have very different timelines for those goals or funding mechanisms or might value some goals more than others, but we are all on board. Yet, we are attacked as if we don’t want healthcare or housing for the poor, as if we don’t want some form of debt relief, etc. There is no nuance allowed and I see frequently the idea that “Bernie is the ONLY one fighting for [X,Y,Z].”

And that’s the largest reason I don’t like Bernie. He has built up a very dangerous cult of personality. It feeds a form of discourse that is corrosive, divisive and actually benefits our largest rivals more than it benefits any type of progressive goal. Me, and many others, place much of the blame for 2016 at Bernie’s feet. You don’t have to agree, but that’s that. I, personally, will not forgive him for what he said and did against Hillary Clinton. I won’t forgive his campaign or his followers for lying on Kamala Harris. And I am not a super big fan of Warren or Biden and here I am finding myself defending them because many in your cohort are spreading the same kinds of lies and conspiracies and propaganda as the MAGA people. And yes, I am fully aware I am making an equivalency between Trump and Sanders with that statement, and I fully stand by it. This black and white worldview is why we have a discourse where “Bernie is the only candidate that has done [X,Y,Z]” is taken seriously by some voters, many of whom either don’t believe Bernie has ever evolved on issues (guns, LGBT rights, women’s rights, states rights, military, etc) or are willing to give Bernie the right to grow and evolve as a politician while not allowing the same of other candidates. It’s not right nor is it okay. 

So I don’t hate Bernie for any one policy, I am more than happy to engage in policy debates and accept that we all have slightly different views on that. But, those debates need to be done in good faith and that’s simply not something we get from Bernie or a majority of his supporters. If this were a policy thing, I could talk about Bernie the same way I talk about Warren or Biden or Buttigieg, and say they’re okay people with okay ideas but they need to pay attention to X,Y,Z because of A,B,C. But when I said I like Kamala’s health plan best for X reasons, I got told i was a fascist or centrist or neoliberal or whatever. I NEVER had a discussion where someone told me why they thought Bernie’s plans were better. Same with Hillary Clinton. Same with everyone still running today. As for this blog, I made it because I was frustrated by all of the above and wanted a place to vent + I wanted to make sure there was at least some content on Tumblr challenging the idea that Bernie is perfect, unproblematic or the undisputed winner. B/C that narrative really made people who spend a ton of time on the internet freak out when it turned out not to be true in 2016. I STILL see people who say “I don’t know a single Joe Biden supporter” on here. I’ve seen that for several other candidates as well. If this blog helps demonstrate that not all democrats/leftists are not on board with Bernie, maybe it will help just a little bit to lessen that blow. I’ve met people who have supported most all of the candidates. The echo chamber needs to have some challenge to it. That echo chamber only feeds the awful cult of personality that i really can’t stand and that I feel is very dangerous. 

[jcmorrigan]

Kingdom Hearts III Fix Fic Masterpost

(Queueing because I wrote this up at late o’clock when I wasn’t likely to get traffic, so I’m setting it for a more reasonable time of evening)

I’ve made no secret of the fact that I’m disillusioned with Kingdom Hearts III, and I have at least two projects on my AO3 that take different approaches to FIXING IT. But I’ve also, on my journey, found several great fics NOT BY ME that improve upon canon so much and this really just warms my heart because it proves that this entire fanbase has such a good grasp on these characters and concepts that our homebrews end up being more satisfying than the real thing, and I’m proud of us for being such frickin’ good writers. Not all of these are finished, I’ll warn you.

Anyway, if you were personally victimized by Kingdom Hearts III, you might enjoy one or more of these titles:

Points of a Star by Beastrage is a time-travel AU where, after the events of KHIII make way for an apocalyptic future ravaged by the Foretellers, the most unlikely squad in the world (Skuld, Vanitas, Naminé, Repliku, and Demyx) travels back in time to KHIII in order to make sure things go better this time. Featuring beautiful magical imagery and worldbuilding, addressing of character themes that really should’ve been talked over in canon, and just about every subplot you can think of getting a wrap-up. If you like that, you may also enjoy Beastrage’s other KH writings. Moon Out of Phase is another time-travel AU that changes the timeline, but instead begins all the way back in 358/2 Days, and our time traveler is Isa, finding himself with his post-III memories but in the body of Saïx in the World That Never Was with no explanation. Beastrage’s latest endeavor, Tell Me That I’m Real, concerns a girl from our world coming into consciousness as the Riku Replica’s original personality, and changing the timeline as of Chain of Memories by refusing to let Vexen erase her mind from the Replica’s body and deciding to go off script.

With All of My Heart by greylina acts as a KHIII sequel. Ten years have passed, with little incident. Riku pines for the lost Sora and seeks him for ten years. Then, with the power of love combined with a little magic and a stroke of good luck, he manages to travel back to Scala ad Caelum...to find Sora, ten years wiser, leading a peaceful civilization of oddly familiar people. Largely a feel-good, though it contains some intrigue. VERY SoRiku, which you know is good in my book. Also takes a “Where are they now?” perspective at what the lives of the KH ensemble cast might be like ten years after the fact, and expect some really cute and not-so-predictable background ships! It has a sequel, In the Spaces You Left, that concerns Kairi’s history during Sora’s absence and follows her through graduating school, forming a sisterly bond with Naminé, and falling in love with an OC who would become her wife. This one spends more time on the ensemble cast as well, so get ready for some cool worldbuilding on the Land of Departure and Destiny Islands as well as catching up with the rest of the Keybearer crew.

Riku’s Disposition Has Changed To: by PuppyGuppy managed to figure out before canon did that Riku is still Sora’s Dream Eater and should be able to locate him easily. Riku goes on a poetic, imagery-filled quest through the Final World and the Realm of Darkness to find Sora’s soul and bring him home. Another SoRiku. Includes Riku gaining permanent monster features (including wings), Sora dealing with PTSD, and the cutest bonding scene to end on that you ever did see!

You can tell I’m a SoRiku shipper. But if you want to see how I think SoKai should be done, take a look at To All the Worlds I’ve Written Before by AppleSoda. This is the Kairi-centric fic you’ve been waiting for. As the main quest goes on in the background, Kairi and Lea find themselves on their own little adventure when Kairi’s letters accidentally get mailed and she realizes she has to intercept her love confession to Sora before he can read it. What started as trying to get her letter back turns into Kairi dueling Organization XIII, befriending a few Disney heroines, teaming up with Riku for the Maleficent showdown we needed, and actually explaining a logical way to bring Xion back. AppleSoda also has a SoRiku fic, The Keyblade Master’s Guide to Journaling, which isn’t very far in but has already given the Frozen plotline of KHIII a major facelift, and another Kairi-centric series, Data and Dreams, which concerns Kairi taking her Mark of Mastery DDD-style in order to gain the means to bring Sora back home after III and running into several members of the ensemble cast in the Sleeping Worlds.

Dolorem et Consolationem actually doesn’t count as a fix fic, strictly speaking, but I’m including it here because it entertained me far more than III despite being canon-compliant. This fic is pure, undiluted IsaLea shipfic, traveling from Lea’s suicidal feelings of regret to the moments of comfort and domesticity shared between the two after moving in together in Radiant Garden to their adoption of a Found Family of Roxas, Naminé, Xion, and a dog. Mostly just ship development, but a lot of the ensemble cast turns up, and there is an undercurrent of intrigue regarding a mission to the World That Never Was to tie up loose ends.

And I’ve saved the most esoteric for last. Yes, this person is my friend, but this fic is also really, really good...though it’s not strictly a Kingdom Hearts fic so much as a fic that uses Kingdom Hearts lore for a backdrop for multicrossover shenanigans. Quite a Glittering Assemblage by @gavillain is a Maleficent-centric fic that features our favorite spurned faery gathering a team of Disney villains, Marvel villains, and some villains who just fit the right aesthetic despite having no Disney association in order to create a team strong enough to bring down the Thirteen Vessels of Darkness before they even get the chance to start a Keyblade War, given that Xehanort really, really made Maleficent angry. Expect villain protags, squad goals, and black comedy. The first fic is the only one that really acts as a fixer for KH canon, but if you liked it and want to continue the adventure, GAvillain is currently on the third work in the Quite a Glittering Assemblage series! (Oh, and there’s enough background SoRiku that if you’re still here for that ship, you’ll be well-fed, but arguably more importantly, if you were sad that Hades and Maleficent didn’t get along in III, well, they’re a primary ship in this series, so rejoice!)

Anyway, hoping somebody finds something of interest here! Happy reading! And KH fans, let’s keep continuing to kick canon’s ass!

[hopefulfestivaltastemaker]

July 5, 2020

My weekly review of some things I have been up to. Topics include the goals for think tank work, a data model for policy, decoupling, determinants of birth rates, and the New African Renaissance.

Data, Analysis, Solutions

This has been a week of some serious rehashing of the Urban Cruise Ship project and what we are trying to do.

The three buzzwords we are using are Data, Analysis, and Solutions (though the logo doesn’t have ‘Data’ in it). We are strong on Data, OK but could be better on Analysis, and lacking in Solutions. Our funder wants to rectify this imbalance.

When one reviews various research, think tanks, and advocacy organizations, one finds a tendency to specialize in different portions of the policy pipeline. Our World in Data, for instance, is one of the best presenters of data out there, as the name would imply. They are weak on analysis, and one has to do additional work to turn the data into a coherent picture of the world, at least a picture more definite than the “things are getting better” message that OWID director Max Roser promotes. They don’t offer solutions.

At the other end of the spectrum, there is a range of advocacy organizations whose job is to develop solutions. Citizens Climate Lobby is the one in the environmental space that I consider to be the gold standard. They advocate a carbon fee and dividend. CCL commissions research and analysis from top tier outfits, though as a primary source of dispassionate data and analysis they are not the place I would go.

Union of Concerned Scientists, the organization from which I inadvertently copied the acronym, is the best example I know of that straddles the Data -> Analysis -> Solutions pipeline. Their scope is broad. I don’t always agree with their ideological orientation, and I find that their material has become too partisan for my tastes, but the quality of their work is consistently good.

I tend to gravitate to wide scope projects, so in some sense the Urban Cruise Ship scope of work is a good fit. But I fear that I am setting up for failure for trying to do so much that I cannot do any of it well.

A Data Model for Research and Policy

This is another idea I have been thinking about, and it is still so amorphous that I don’t even have a good title for this section.

As described above, I envision a fairly well-defined pipeline that starts with raw data (from environmental sensors, laboratory results, survey results, statistics, etc.), proceeds through multiple layers of analysis, and leads to an output of a well-defined policy that can be implemented by a well-defined entity. By policy I am referring not just to government policy but also business practices, investment strategy, or pretty much any kind of policy.

It is very difficult for any one entity to do this process in its entirely (see above), especially since good policy should draw upon a wide range of disciplines. Therefore, a division of labor develops in practice. Most policymaking isn’t very good though, relying more heavily on ideology and folk wisdom than on rigorous analysis.

We have the data tools necessary to break the pipeline into interoperable and computable chunks. The open data movement in governance is a good step, though they could greatly improve their offerings. We need open science too, which means open access publishing, but more importantly means publishing in a form that is accessible both to machines and a more general audience. We should think of R or Jupyter Notebooks, and semantic presentation of knowledge such as RDF, rather than PDF files, as the basic unit of academic publishing.

Publication at the think tank level would work in the same way. Since think tanks don’t typically do primary research, they would take as input academic publication and produce as output general policy principles. Advocacy organizations could take as input the work or academics or think tanks and output specific policy proposals.

In theory, a policy proposal could be compiled into its rationale in terms of raw data and mathematical models. On the latter, the models could even be run through a proof checker such as Lean. This would allow the development of agents that could analyze policy proposals for red flags, such as data of disputed veracity or methodological problems.

An end-to-end computable model for research and policy, aside from facilitating better decision-making in general, may emerge as an important infrastructural component of the technology stack that will ultimately become artificial general intelligence. As I’ve noted earlier, I think that popular understanding of AGI neglects the infrastructural aspect of the problem.

If this was an idea that I am serious about--which, to be clear, it is not at present--I would go about it as follows. First, I would draft one or more white papers explaining the technical workings and sample use cases of the system in detail, together with a business case. Second, I would implement proofs of concept of key subsystems using what I have built with Urban Cruise Ship. Third, I would seek funding and build out a team and create a minimum viable product. Then I would figure out how to make the system snowball via network effects. At least the first two steps I know I could do with sufficient time and effort.

Decoupling

In ecological science, decoupling refers to a system that allows population or economic growth to occur without an increase in overall environmental impacts. I spent the week developing some time series of world environmental impacts to see which ones are growing or shrinking in absolute terms, on a per capita basis, and on a per-GDP basis. Of course I’m not the first person to attempt to do this, but I haven’t seen anything comprehensive laid out and I think there should be.

Across a range of impacts, the only recent examples I see of growth relative to GDP are ores (by metal content) and minerals (e.g. sand, stone), both from 2002-2015. I would expect them to decouple after we get past the peak of world urbanization. There are absolute declines in meadows and pastures, 1990-2017 (though I wouldn’t consider this definitive), land for forestry, 1990-2017, several forms of air pollution in the OECD, ozone depletion, mercury emissions, extreme poverty, and lack of access to safe drinking water. On a per capita basis, I’ll just say the picture is a mixed bag.

This will be a good graphic and I am looking forward to having it done. The nice thing about a big picture graphic like this is that there are many conclusions the viewer can draw, and I need not be heavy-handed about it.

Factors that Govern Birth Rates

As planned, I took some time this week on the fertility work, this time trying to get a handle on some more practical questions.

There are a few things that are widely known in the field. Urbanization and educational attainment generally lower fertility. Religious people tend to have more kids. Family planning policies lower birth rates, though the effect is not very significant in wealthy countries. Legalized abortion lowers birth rates.

The two most popular pro-natalist policies are baby bonuses and subsidized childcare. The one estimate on the efficacy of baby bonuses I know about is Lyman Stone’s estimate that it costs anywhere from $30,00 to 300,000 to induce one additional birth, based on an Australian project. Several studies, such as this one, suggest that subsidized child care is more efficiency than a baby bonus, in terms of induced additional births per public dollar spent. That’s not what I would have expected but it makes sense.

Beyond the well-known observation that fertility is lower in urban areas relative to rural, there are some interesting distinctions within cities. Shoag and Russell find that stringent zoning depresses fertility. Kulu and Washbrook find that fertility is higher in smaller cities compared to bigger cities. Kulu, Boyle, and Andersson find that fertility is higher in suburbs relative to city cores. None of these are too terribly surprising, though since the effect of zoning is typically to suppress city size and density, the results of Shoag and Russell would seem to be in tension with the others. There is a story that can be told that would harmonize them, which is that cost of living is more relevant than urban form, and that cost of living tends to be higher in city cores, larger cities, and cities with stringent zoning.

Last week I noted three overarching hypothesis on the drivers of fertility decline: the quality/quantity tradeoff, cultural evolution hypotheses, and the tendency for modernity to create competing desires to family formation. I can’t say that anything I looked at this week helps me distinguish between these hypotheses.

New African Renaissance

This paper came out a couple weeks ago, outlining a vision for a Pan-African future. It is an interesting read, though a bit heavy on the speculative idealism, but I like to indulge in this kind of stuff now and then. There are some heavy hitters behind the initiative.

Based on demographic trends, Africa is the region of the world that looks to be in the best position to prosper in the second half of the 21st century.

[ashleyspinelliburnbook]

S1E6: My Fair Gretchen/Speedy, We Hardly Knew Ye

Me, literally one recap ago: “When are we gonna get a good Gretchen episode?”

Me, today, looking at the title of the next episode and refusing to be embarrassed: “WELL, FINALLY”

My Fair Gretchen

The most pressing revelation here is that “Recess” apparently takes place in Arkansas, as the episode begins with Miss Finster handing out the Arkansas Standard Achievement Test.

Beyond that, this is a lovely ~ironic subversion~ of the “My Fair Lady” trope. Let me explain: “My Fair Lady” is all about turning Eliza Doolittle into a more acceptable member of high society, right? Turning her from Cockney to, well, refined?

Here, we’ve got Gretchen, who’s by no means a member of high society, but the goal isn’t to get her there either. See, Gretchen is smart — very smart — to the point that she gets a perfect score on the ASAT. She’s called into Principal Prickly’s office, where she learns that she has the opportunity to go to Oppenheimer Elementary for the Incredibly, Extremely Gifted. (Of course, Prickly has a vested interest in this too. If two more of his kids go there, he gets that job at Spiro Agnew Middle School!)

But...Gretchen doesn’t really want to go to Oppenheimer. Her mom is excited to hear the news, but it just makes Gretchen sad. And when she tells her friends she’s on the fence about what she’s learned, they decide to take action.

After Gretchen takes one last walk around the school, saying goodbye to the swingset, the graffiti, and the rancid fish sticks in the dumpster, she gets home to find...the gang! And they’ve got a plan to de-smart her so that when she goes in front of the Oppenheimer review board the next day, they’ll have no choice but to turn her down.

“I’ve been trying to dumb myself down ever since kindergarten,” Gretchen says, to which TJ replies, “This time, you’ve got experts on your side.”

“Yo, Prickly,” New Gretchen says as she walks into the gym for her review. After a whirlwind day of trying new looks (courtesy of the Diggers, the Ashleys, the kindergarteners), she shows up in, um, I’m not a fashion person but she’s coming off as very...not this decade? Wow, helpful.

So yeah, instead of going for “refined,” we get, well, the opposite of that. But here, it’s also the socially acceptable landing point. Instead of being a super-genius who aces standardized tests, Gretchen is now...just like any other kid.

The board, pictured above, asks Gretchen a handful of trivia questions, and she gets them all spectacularly wrong (“Who was the 14th president of the United States?” “Dennis Rodman?”). From outside, the gang celebrates her achievement...until the plan backfires.

A humiliated Principal Prickly accuses Gretchen of cheating on the exam, and Gretchen can’t help but recite all of the correct answers to their questions, in order, with perfect accuracy. Albert Einstein (you see him, come on) asks why she was hiding her intelligence, and she explains she doesn’t want to go to the new school. The board banishes Prickly to the hallway, where he and the gang await Gretchen’s fate.

When they emerge, Einstein explains that Gretchen convinced the board that there's more to education than book-learnin’ (which sort of reminds me of “Bart the Genius,” where Bart initially tries to convince the gifted school he has cheated his way into to let him go back to his old school undercover, “to see what makes ‘em tick”).

The board suggests the school instead implement a tutorial program, and the episode ends with Gretchen teaching...a room full of teachers. As it should be.

Takeaway: Every time I see an episode about a gifted kid/genius kid, I think about all the memes that go, like, “if you were ever a ‘gifted kid’ in school, you’re depressed now,” and...yeah. Imagine having all this pressure to succeed in fourth grade, you know?

Speedy, We Hardly Knew Ye

(Today in “trying something new on the blog,” I want to share something I wrote a few years ago that pretty much says what I would have written here anyway. The episode is about the class hamster, Speedy, dying, and how the kids react to it.)

In middle school, I had two opportunities to take part in Challenge Day, a day-long anti-bullying program meant to bring to the forefront all the deeply personal things that participants have in common, all while celebrating their diversity and inspiring them to dismantle the structure that causes these differences to drive them apart.

Being middle schoolers — 11-, 12-, and 13-year-olds in the thick of maintaining childhood friendships, facing new encounters, and experiencing puberty — there was a wide range of expectations for the event and the reactions throughout it. Many students saw the day solely as an opportunity to be able to skip school, while several of us read the material given to us with our permission slips and at least vaguely understood that our emotions — and our beliefs — would be tested.

The first time I did Challenge Day was in sixth grade, and at first, my primary concern was that my best friend and had been separated, relegated to participating on different days. But when the 100 or so of us entered the gym, whose windows had been blacked out to avoid any interruptions from the other 300 students on campus, the specially-trained Challenge Day leaders made every opportunity to pull us out of our comfort zones right away. Suddenly, we were sprinting within a massive circle of chairs, instructed to find a new seat, and found ourselves sitting between two people we’d never met to whom we would then have to introduce ourselves.

Eventually, we split into small groups of 6 or 7 — similarly randomly assigned, paired with a parent volunteer — and talked more candidly about our worries, how we truly felt going to school every day, and even our personal tragedies. The point here was to prove that we were able to open up to a group of strangers following all of the icebreaker activities we’d completed. And, from what my friend had told me after completing her Challenge Day the previous day, this portion of the day was where everyone started crying. While a good number of the students who were just happy to have the day off from school didn’t take this part seriously, I really wanted to – and luckily, both times, my group was just as keen.

I don’t much remember what I shared at that first Challenge Day, but in eighth grade I was dealing with both that friend’s sudden move to a school two hours away and the death of my hamster, my first real pet, and I felt I had a lot to talk about. The students in my group were very receptive to what I had to say, and one even took me aside after we moved on from the small group activities and complimented my candidness, saying I was very brave to cry for my friend and my pet.

Unfortunately, the parent volunteer in our group was less sympathetic. On the Challenge Day website, it states that volunteers receive a quick overview of the day before students arrive, and that’s it. Sadly, you can’t teach sympathy in half an hour. When I almost immediately starting sobbing about my troubles and was met with kindness by my fellow middle school-aged group members, this woman promptly interrupted me.

“Are you sure you’re not just getting caught up in the emotions, sweetheart?” she asked, her attempted pleasantness pierced by skepticism. “At your age, you’re too old to be crying about hamsters and one lost friend. There are more hamsters, and there are more friends.”

What could I do? I was a shy, insecure 13-year-old who was clearly overwhelmed by my own hardships — albeit comparatively minute to what some members of the group had shared — and all this woman could do was point out my perceived weaknesses and trivialize feelings I thought were legitimate and sincere. So I gave in. I nodded.

���Mm-hmm,” she confirmed, her face lit up in victory. “You need to learn to be stronger. That’s what today is all about. Let’s move on to someone else.”

Of course, because of the quiet, non-confrontational person I was — and still, only 13, barely beginning to emotionally mature — I let her words sink in. I entirely believed that what I had shared was completely out of line, and rebuked myself for crying at all. Since early childhood, I was the type of person who cried whenever I felt worried or insecure, and this woman, in just a few sentences, had made me so worried and so insecure that I didn’t want to cry anymore.

For me, Challenge Day in sixth grade was exciting. Because my school had only opened that year, even the seventh- and eighth-graders who transferred from the middle school across town were open to making new friends, and it was a wholly positive experience. But after Challenge Day in eighth grade, I wondered if I’d become too comfortable being openly emotional two years before. And, not to place the entirety of the blame on this one woman’s speech, since I clearly had many reasons to feel down, eighth grade was when I first recognized that I might be depressed. Even still, I don’t think I should have had to say, “Look, lady, I appreciate your fake concern, but I’m clinically depressed” to avoid any further insult.

I know so many people whose feelings were invalidated as kids simply because, as kids, many of them just hadn’t been alive long enough to experience the type of pain that adults have. (And even if they have, the emotional differences inherent in both parties for the exact same tragedy or other life change can be profound.) When adults don’t understand that comparing the plights of a single 13-year-old to their own — or anyone’s — is completely unfair, their words and actions can quickly devolve into invalidation and, sometimes, abuse.

During that second Challenge Day, the main message conveyed by the leaders was beyond my attention. I thought I’d come away with the advice to not cry unless it was about something really important, and to “be stronger” — which was completely abstract to me at the time. (It still is, honestly. Is there a checklist I have to fill out to determine if I’m “strong” enough to…what? Be a living, appropriately emotional person? I mean, evidently not.)

I don’t want adults to be rude to kids who are expressing emotions of any kind, even if it’s about something they don’t think is worth expending energy to worry about. Children and teenagers have vastly different capacities to internalize the world around them compared to adults, and that doesn’t make their reactions to hardships wrong or invalid. We should all know this, having been kids ourselves, but obviously we don’t.

When adults can’t understand a world in which a hamster’s death is, for one day, the most important thing, perhaps the sole hardship on a child’s mind, then we don’t deserve their innocent happiness at learning on their own that there are, in fact, more hamsters.

If we can’t handle children’s emotions at their worst — the worst “worst” they’ve ever experienced — to what fate are we dooming them when the things they don’t talk about, their depression and abuse and appropriately hard hardships that are allowed to challenge their strength, get bad enough for us to care?

Takeaway: Let kids feel their feelings when they’re kids so they have a healthy relationship with their emotions as adults. (Please.)

[callmeblake]

Kerrang Issue #1761

Magazine Release Date: February 20th, 2019

Issue Label: February 23rd, 2019

Photo Credit:  Jen Rosenstein

Illustrations: Brian Ewing

Partial Transcription (from pressreader.com) below:

Kerrang! (UK)

20 Feb 2019

words: emily carter illustrations: brian ewing

“MAKING MUSIC IS MORE FUN THESE DAYS…”

BREAKS HIS SILENCE

Since he was a kid, GERARD WAY has sought solitude in the world of graphic novels – first as a reader, and later, with the weight of the rock world on his shoulders, as a creator. But now, he explains exclusively to Kerrang!, working on the Netflix adaptation of his THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY series helped him reconnect with his love for making music, too…

Gerard Way keeps track of his personal goals using what he calls “the grown-up list”. One at a time, the 41-year-old will tick off these life objectives by means of self-care – a concept he’ll admit he hasn’t kept on top of lately.

“On the grown-up list are all these things that I have to do to start participating in life again,” he explains in a gentle, endearing New Jersey accent, dissecting a mysteriously methodical approach to his return to the public eye – though, it has to be said, still sounding very much like a big kid at heart.

For the past “two, three” years, Gerard feels as though he hasn’t been looking after himself while under the strain of his demanding career as a comic-book writer. And while his workload certainly isn’t slowing down any time soon – if anything, it’s on the increase with the reintroduction of music now, too – he is at least making his own positive changes little by little, “piece by piece”.

“Enough time goes by and you’re tired of feeling tired, and tired of feeling unhealthy, and tired of doing unhealthy things to yourself,” he admits. “I hit a point where I was like, ‘Enough’s enough. I gotta move my body and find a doctor.’ I hadn’t had a physical in I can’t remember how long. It was just time, you know?”

Undertaking this new journey, Gerard first started off by giving up smoking. He afforded himself just two weeks to ditch the cigarettes, before moving on to the next task. “You can’t do it all at once,” he explains thoughtfully. “I quit smoking before doing anything else – like change diet or going to see a doctor. I just take these things in steps. Even if I did have all the time in the world to attack the grown-up list, you have to take any major life change slowly and gradually.”

Had Gerard felt so inclined as to keep a similar grown-up list for professional targets when he first emerged as My Chemical Romance’s awe-inspiring leader in 2001, its trajectory would have accelerated significantly. Darting into the spotlight in 2004 with their astounding second record Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge, the frontman quickly became uncomfortable with the intrusive – and borderline paralysing – nature of their fame. It’s no wonder that, between 2006’s triple-platinum The Black Parade, and the festival-headlining status that came with fourth and final studio album Danger Days: The True Lives Of The Fabulous Killjoys, Gerard recently labelled the group’s journey as “uncontrollable”. The band’s explosion was just as dramatic as their eventual breakup almost six years ago, and it took Gerard just over a year to then return into view. An excellent Britpop-inflected solo LP, Hesitant Alien, followed in September 2014, and even landed at spot number four in Kerrang!’s top 50 records of that year. No grown-up list – no matter how fool-proof – could accurately record or predict those kind of whirlwind peaks and troughs.

In his life as a comic-book writer, though, Gerard’s accomplishments have kept up a steadier, but no less impressive, incline. As a graduate of New York’s School of Visual Arts and a former intern at Cartoon Network, his imagination and visual creativity was harnessed long before his audio talents came to light. While his comic-book debut in 1993, On Raven’s Wings, was cancelled after just two issues, Gerard’s near 100 (and counting) writing credits have just about surpassed his contributions in music; he even ran his own imprint under the legendary DC Comics banner for two years, Young Animal. And while its status is currently listed as ‘inactive’, Gerard has emphasised that it’s “not the end” of that venture. Now, his prominence as a fullyfledged award-winning comic-book writer is a marvel (no, not that kind).

“The thing about doing comics is nobody asks you about your personal life, they don’t ask you about the drugs you used to take, they don’t ask you if you’re breaking up,” he told Kerrang! while still with My Chemical Romance in 2010, openly battling with the allure of a life buried in books. “They talk about the work. I wish people would talk about the work in music. In music, people want to know what makes you tick – in comics, people don’t care.”

Given the appeal of a more serene existence, it’s clear Gerard’s current primary occupation perfectly suits him. Just as he helped change the face of rock 15 years ago, however, he’s beginning to make similar strides in comics. Once again, he’s got the big guns knocking on his artistic doorstep.

“If anybody ever asks me for advice about being creative, it’s always just to make the things you want to see,” he shrugs, either oblivious to his skills or just strikingly modest. “Make something that doesn’t exist, that you wish existed – that you wanna read, or see, or listen to. That’s the one thing that I’ve applied to everything I’ve done: all the art I’ve made and the music I’ve made.”

Following this surprisingly simple mantra, Gerard now has a tremendous feat on his hands: his apocalyptic comic-book series, The Umbrella Academy, has snowballed into a 10-episode live-action show of the same name, and hit Netflix last Friday. By now, you’ll probably have already watched the lot. For the programme’s main brain, though, while he may have spent release day just ticking off another box on the grown-up list (“I had a physical that day with a doctor, so…”), this marks the beginning of his “participation” in life again. Gerard Way is back.

Gerard Way is obsessed with comics. Across the span of our interview with the author-turned-musicianturned-author again, he says the word “comic” no fewer than 28 times – each utterance more passionate than the last. Yet it wasn’t until 2008, while still active with My Chemical Romance, that he began to feel the effects of his written works’ potential. And not just in the field of comics, either; he was suddenly struck with the realisation that he could make this his full-time work instead. When he and illustrator Gabriel Bá – a man Gerard credits constantly and with great

“I’VE ALWAYS AIMED TO MAKE SOMETHING THAT DOESN’T EXIST, THAT I WISH EXISTED” GERARD WAY

respect when discussing the project – were awarded a prestigious Eisner Award for The Umbrella Academy’s first mini-series, it shook him to the core.

“It was scary at the time,” he mentioned in a Kerrang! cover feature at a later date, “because it was another thing that said to me, ‘Hey, you could go and do this. You won’t have a huge career, but you could make a living. There was a part of me thinking, ‘I don’t have to be a singer anymore.’”

Just days after receiving their Eisner, Gerard and Gabriel’s graphic novel was optioned by Universal Pictures. Plans for a potential movie were in development “for quite a while”, until it eventually fizzled out and came back to Umbrella Academy’s publisher, Dark Horse Comics. Then, the idea for a TV show was conceived – and Gerard was instantly sold. Not that it was ever something he’d ever considered when first penning his comics all those years prior.

“You know, I tend to be a visual thinker,” he begins. “When I was first starting out, I was told to embrace the medium of comics: just make a great comic. I think that that’s a common mistake that people make – they see a comic as a film, and they’ll just present it as a film. And there’s a lot of things you can do in comics, and it would almost short-change that. You need to embrace what a comic can do, and then you’ll make a really fantastic one. If you’re just trying to present it as a film, it doesn’t work as well, in my opinion. I still follow that advice to this day.”

Gerard loved the idea of giving his painstaking and deeply intricate world a new long-form narrative, and a way of going deeper into the story’s characters (all of whom are either a reflection of people he knows, or himself). Before taking various meetings – including with Netflix – both he and Gabriel sat down with Universal Cable Productions executive vice president of development, Dawn Olmstead, and discussed their aims.

“My goal was to give those guys the material to make a really great show,” Gerard explains. “That way, if they made a show and it’s successful, they always have material to go back to. That’s always been my goal: to tell a really good story that I have control over.”

Nine years later after its original plans fell through, it was eventually settled that Netflix would be the way to go. Joining forces with a company that had both “the highest production value” and that was also “artist-friendly” made the most sense to all involved. “We knew they would let the show be what it needed to be,” Gerard nods.

By this point, the series’ creator had slipped away from the limelight to create a 20-page blueprint for show-runner Steve Blackman. The Umbrella Academy thus far has three volumes – Apocalypse Suite, Dallas and Hotel Oblivion – but Gerard will eventually complete the story through eight graphic novels in total, many of which are still to be finished (“I have it all planned out, and I’ve just got to kind of write it now…”). In advance of the show’s development stages, though, he needed to let his new colleagues know the whole plot.

“There were talks early on about how much of my involvement there would be – if I wanted to be a co-show-runner, if I wanted to write scripts,” remembers Gerard. “And I really put the emphasis on making the source material and making the comics, so I had to let go of certain things. I weighed in on a lot of them, but ultimately it was Steve’s call to make. I liked letting go, though, because it allowed me to keep moving forward in the ways that I wanted to, which is with the comics or anything else I want to do.”

Working with Netflix became a daily job. From set pieces to wardrobe choices, both Gerard and Gabriel would give extensive notes in the 18 months it took to produce The Umbrella Academy, ensuring a happy climate was reached between their individual artistic palettes. It’s not a giant leap to compare the birth of Gerard’s latest project to My Chemical Romance’s studio swansong, Danger Days. While still in the throes of The Black Parade’s overwhelming success, the frontman had moved to LA from New Jersey in 2008 and was focused on comics – not just The Umbrella Academy, but also a bold, bright new sci-fi spectacular: The True Lives Of The Fabulous Killjoys, a story of the aftermath of a battle against a tyrannical corporation. Having written and subsequently scrapped The Black Parade’s original follow-up, the frontman was then struck with inspiration on a family retreat in the wilderness, wracking his brains with what to do next.

“I had an epiphany, I had a vision,” he told Kerrang! back in October 2010, of how this new comic informed what would become My Chem’s fourth full-length. “I was writing all these crazy lyrics and they were fearless and fucking reckless. I had this vision in my head, and everything I had been working on in the comic – the masks, the laser guns, the cars, everything – started to swirl around in my head.”

So how does the creation of a comicinspired album measure up against bringing The Umbrella Academy to life on TV?

“You know, they’re both intense and stressful in their own ways,” Gerard smiles. “But one of the things I’ve learned as I get older is that being in the studio and making music isn’t nearly as stressful – it’s a lot more fun these days. Having said that, although things are a little more high-stakes on a film set, we had a lot of fun with that, too.”

Early last year, The Umbrella Academy’s primary architects headed to Toronto to oversee the first week of filming. They were there to “answer any questions and give a little direction”. Though their focus was undeniably on creating the best comic-to-screen transition

“AS I GET OLDER, MAKING MUSIC ISN’T NEARLY AS STRESSFUL – IT’S A LOT MORE FUN THESE DAYS” GERARD WAY

“I DON’T LIKE TO DWELL ON THINGS. I LIKE TO MOVE FORWARD” GERARD WAY

possible, Gerard also remembers the weather; it was snowing, a sight he hadn’t seen since touring Hesitant Alien three and a half years prior. Once more, his two worlds briefly reacquainted themselves.

While in Canada, he and Gabriel reviewed “dailies”. “It hit a point where it was like, ‘Alright, this train is going, they know what they’re doing,’ and I could divert my attention back to the comic,” Gerard says. “Then I was able to work on it remotely – most of the work from my end was done through email or phone conversations, so I could be anywhere in the world and I was still able to watch the footage on my laptop, or whatever computer I was at.”

Once that week was over, Gerard kept a distant watchful eye over filming, which carried on until July. Elsewhere, his time was split between writing more comics, drinking copious amounts of coffee, collecting vintage T-shirts and miniature painted figures, and watching his wife of 11 years, Lindsey – bassist of Mindless Self Indulgence – feed birds and squirrels at their family home.

Rather ironically, his days weren’t spent watching a great deal of television. Even now, he’ll partake in an episode or two of a binge-worthy programme if Lindsey wants him to check it out – but he’ll never consume the lot in one go. “I think that makes my opinion on what we’re making with Umbrella Academy, in a way, even more valid,” he suggests, “because I don’t watch all this stuff. I read a lot of books.”

Most exciting of all, though, is that almost every Friday, Gerard Way began to create music again.

Around 54 minutes into The Umbrella Academy’s fifth episode, there’s a mind-bending shoot-out featuring, among others, Mary J. Blige. While the action unfolds, a familiar voice quietly hits the eardrums. ‘ Imagine me and you, I do / I think about you day and night, it’s only right…’ croons Gerard Way alongside former My Chemical Romance bandmate and guitarist extraordinaire Ray Toro, in a cover of The Turtles’ hit Happy Together – both rich in personality, but also similarly honouring the original. It’s not the first time Gerard and Ray have teamed up in such a manner: last month, they unveiled another joint effort in the form of Hazy Shade Of Winter, originally by Simon & Garfunkel, for The Umbrella Academy’s official trailer. But this is arguably Gerard’s most epic comics-meets-music crossover yet.

Steve Blackman, says Gerard, “thought it would be really nice for the fans – both for fans of my work as a musician, and my work as a comic writer. He thought it would be really cool, and I thought it would be cool, too. It would be silly to not do a song for the show! We ended up doing a couple, which was really great. And I’m sure there will be more in the future.”

The music Gerard made each week last year wasn’t just for The Umbrella Academy – it was also for himself. Possibly over-ambitiously, the musician hoped to release these new sounds once a month, though his workload soon put paid to that. He does, however, now boast “quite the collection of demos”.

“Right now it’s just a stand-alone thing,” Gerard says, “but I think at some point – maybe for a vinyl or something – it would be nice to collect all these songs, just as a body of work for something that I did. With all the work and the show coming, it has been harder to try and do a song a month. And I knew that that would kind of happen back when I first mentioned the goal of trying to do that, just because of all the extra work that was coming. But we’re still making music every week.”

Gerard has enjoyed the process of juggling his own music and songs for Netflix enormously. His recent solo tracks – Baby You’re A Haunted House, Getting Down The Germs and a touching Christmas number featuring Lydia Night of The Regrettes called Dasher – have deliberately not been “overthought”, though music for The Umbrella Academy can be a little more laborious.

“It’s a bit more work, because it’s for something cinematic,” he explains. “It’s not that it has to reach a higher level, it’s just that it’s a different level. The solo stuff is just kind of up to me, and what I want that to convey, or what nature it has. Whereas with the show, everybody has to really be blown away by it. So maybe, in a way, it’s more a little bit of what Ray [Toro] and I and the guys in My Chem used to do; we apply a little bit more of that to what we do in these cover songs for Umbrella Academy.”

Is it a strange feeling to revisit that kind of creative process?

“It makes it really fresh and exciting,” Gerard grins. “It’s actually really nice to go back and do something like you once did it, because you have more experience and wisdom and knowledge. As you get older you bring all these things the way you used to do. It’s refreshing at times – especially if you’re doing a bunch of experimental things. It’s refreshing to go back to your core, and your roots, of what you used to do, and apply your new knowledge to that.”

Gerard Way’s musical future for now, then, will remain both blissfully free and totally spontaneous – a far-cry from his MCR days. But he couldn’t be happier about it.

“I like to move forward a lot,” he enthuses. “I don’t like to dwell on things very much. I don’t usually like to revisit them, either. I like to keep moving forward and putting out new things. I like to try new things and experiment.” Gerard repeats himself once more. “I really like doing that.” K!

THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY IS AVAILABLE TO WATCH NOW ON NETFLIX

[airlock]

airlock grades the Conqueror archetype

and this one will wrap up the series! or, perhaps, trample it with iron boots -- because this is the realm of the ones who declare the wars, control the huge empires, storm the protagonistic homelands!

(do note: under cut are spoilers for… everything, and also a significant amount of me criticizing or blamming characters that you might like. you’ve been warned! but all hope is lost; whether you read on or not, I will post this and you can’t stop me. ahahahahaaaa!!)

the scourge of akaneia

(8/10)

Medeus is the launcher of some sort of an archetype of his own, in the sense of the big honking draconic/demonic being whose defeat seals up the plot, but he also distinguishes himself very much from that pack -- in that he’s never really idly awaiting for the endgame to come, but instead, he’s pushing the buttons and making things happen, even if his signature pose is the lazy villain slouch.

he’s easily one of the stronger villains in the Akaneia saga -- active, intense, and, quite rarely for this point in technology, a splendid realization of the motivations that drove him to villainy. it’s hard to disagree that he did the “as long as there’s evil” clincher better than Loptyr.

the scourge of valentia

(6.5/10)

the remakes have breathed much of the good and the bad of the series’ modern instances into the man who knocked Mycen up.

there’s a frequent criticism of Rudolf in that the convoluted plots he weaves, leading up to his death, make no sense and feel like deliberate plot behavior; I’d say Shadows of Valentia does good on clarifying the need for all of his scheming, though, as he has to contend with a decadent church that steadily eclipses his crown’s influence and has the furthest possible goals from his.

the problem, of course, is that all of this clarification comes about in the fashion that these things tend to on this side of Awakening: past the point when it’d have fang. why only have the red-armored reindeer start acting like Alm’s father right at the time of the final showdown? there was plenty of time to build him up in the cutscenes before that, but we waste all of that time on him bullying his nephew instead. and that particular thing ends up making no sense at all!

it sucks not only for making Rudolf weaker as a villain, but also for how much it cheapens Alm’s subsequent drama. we’re really supposed to buy that he’s all torn up about committing patricide, when the father he killed was no father to him at all except for a half minute before croaking? and seriously, this time, all the people being like “don’t judge him too harshly” after Alm went and killed him just end up sounding fiercely insensitive to him.

and last but definitely least, seriously, his older sprite was better lookin’.

the scourge of akaneia, book II

(6/10)

what, you give me a chance to use that gif, I use it, plain and simple-

ahem! so what to make of our here fallen hero? his tragic downfall is quite compelling, truly striking as a situation that no particular individual can be blamed for but was merely the sad result of the trappings of the system. alas, that much is cheapened quite a bit when the result of it in actions tends to run the gamut of arbitrary villainy; it feels like the last real character-informed action in his arc is when he finally gives in to the Darksphere, and from there, it’s all because plot.

still, having a formerly playable character turn crooked as a main plot point is a player punch that other titles have rarely shown similar bravery to pull off, and that’s very much to merit. Shadow Dragon even goes the distance in trying to strengthen the punch by giving Marth and Hardin one or two tidbits of extra dialogue with each other, but those sadly end up landing quite stifled and fail to contribute to the buildup.

it has to be said, though, I really hate how this side of the remake makes his evil self look like a lunkering zombie when old Mystery of the Emblem dodged the gonk and gave him some kind of sexy vampire look instead. that was working better. so I guess that makes Medeus the only one of the list here who didn’t strike the remake fortune with a worse character design?

the scourge of jugdral

(11/10)

Arvis is my favorite Fire Emblem villain bar none. he’s the full package, and should be zenith to with any antagonist in this series aspires to.

starting off, he boasts an extensive backstory that not only establishes his motivations, but even his personality, his neuroses. but what’s better yet is that he’s such a good villain, he carries himself perfectly in the game proper despite most of the detail of what made him who he is falling to the wayside of additional material. none of that text exists to make right the deeds that he gets up to, too; it’s hard to blame him in the end, but he’s not to be absolved, anyway.

he’s also masterfully crafty, and unlike certain toadies I’ve covered earlier who dip into his pool and pretend to be the real mastermind, he’s out there doing exactly what needs to be done in order to turn the bickerings of his continent into a cycle of mutual destruction that naturally pulls him all the way to the top. you know how, if you get enough of the gang killed, you can have an ending where Seliph ends up having to take over the whole continent, leaving him stuck being Arvis 2.0? folks sometimes call that a “wtf seliph” moment, but I’d call it the crowning excellence of Arvis’s schemes -- his M.O. is never to take over the empire, but ever to undermine the existing leadership so thorougly as to make himself the only option left.

and what’s more: although the zenith of his arc is the stuff of late-term plot twists, this is that rare occasion when the plot twist is done well and doesn’t just ruin the rest of the story because of the secrecy required. the tipping point is built up to very well, with Arvis’s uncertain allegiances and sketchy character -- masterfully played so that he’s suspect, but hard to instantly point fingers at. the cherry on top is when he fakes coming to your aid at the very end, making it so look like that’s his place in the plot, until it isn’t and he betrayed you and murdered everyone. what magnificent brutality!

my god, is this long enough yet? because seriously, I could keep going. I’ll spare you all since we’re not even halfway done with this list yet, but I think I’ve made this much abundantly clear: Arvis is a master class in how to write a primary villain, and nothing less.

the scourge of leonster specifically

(5.5/10)

technically, a conqueror per se he isn’t, but he’s very much occupying a similar role in Thracia 776, as the one who directly made possible the imperial occupation of Manster and also the one who actively pursues Leif.

as far as villains in that particular game goes, Raydrik is one of the better inserted, having been given a place in the story of Jugdral that doesn’t encroach on anyone else’s but still makes him more than relevant enough of an enemy to Leif. it’s unfortunate, however, that having to play second fiddle to a stooge like Veld dials down the extent to which he can seize on that in full.

the scourge of elibe

(4.5/10)

the world’s sharpest fidget spinner has a fairly interesting concept going, specially with how it fits into the grand scheme of Binding Blade -- is it easy to disagree with the misanthropic antagonist, when the majority of the enemies you’ve faced up to that point were the assholes that were supposed to be on your side?

unfortunately, it’s still pretty easy to disagree with Zephiel in the end. I might be thinking of the earlier and more stifled fanslation, but he’s far too stoic to sell the bread that he’s supposedly growing. were that he ever really showed the sorrow and anger he feels at the lot he’s been dealt, and how it compels him to such drastic lenghts as attempting to erradicate humanity itself, he’d have made for a far more convincing villain; alas, depressive emotionless doesn’t really mesh all that great with the sort of arc he’s trying to build.

in fact, it weakens his impact quite a bit that so much of his backstory only ever goes through in the form of his sister lengthily expositing about it; he only gives his own words on the matter obliquely, and the thing ends up landing like it’s a sob story intended to drum up cheap sympathy, even though it actually explains what he’s doing.

Blazing Blade puts in the valiant effort of showing you in actions not words what led him down the path of villainy, but your prequel should not be tasked with the work of establishing you as the villain you are in your actual game.

credit where credit is due, though, this guy’s theme song slaps so hard, you end up in a dungeon with Sophia. in terms of audibly announcing how fucked you are when he’s in the neighborhood, he’s second only to Arvis.

the scourge of caelin specifically

(5/10)

Blazing Blade is mostly about preventing conquests from taking place to begin with, but this guy fits the bill neatly enough, as someone who sparks the conflict of Lyn’s story by making moves on his ambitions.

I can’t help but feel like he could have been written to be more interesting and compelling -- like, if he didn’t look like he’s roughly as close to death’s doorstep as his brother is anyway, and/or if he’d mentioned having heirs of his own that he wished to pass Caelin down to instead of Lyn... or maybe if he dropped the cacklevillainy for a moment to seize on what a genuinely frustrating feeling it’d have to be, being all but the designated heir for 15-odd years and THEN some random granddaughter appears out of nonwhere.

that said, he wasn’t intended to be a particularly complex villain; he’s the tutorial villain, with the tutorial villainy. I ultimately can’t grade him higher than such a role merits, but it’s ultimately understandable that he wasn’t written better.

the wooden scourge of magvel

(7.5/10)

although he’s not actually there at any point of Sacred Stones, it’s not for no reason that Lyon put his undead inflatable doll self to work -- and I mean that both in the pragmatic sense and in the character sense.

Vigarde’s presence is palpable, echoing through the backstories of a great deal of characters and informing their actions and choices for the greater part of the game; that’s a very impressive thing to accomplish without being there in the first place, and it builds him up to quite the solid character.

the scourge of tellius

(8.5/10)

so, this guy’s motivations are kind of wack; the clear intention there to mirror and contrast the protagonist ultimately lands flat, and his ideology does little to impress meaning upon his actions. also, it’s pretty lame that he has all the cool battle quotes he has when only Ike is special enough to actually hurt him. I’m getting the criticism out of the way now because the rest of this is going to be nothing but gushing.

what an incredibly entertaining villain! his great crooked grin never feels like an affectation -- he may be theatrical and cruel, but he has his firm reasons for doing everything he does. and the plot doesn’t tell him what to do; he tells the plot what to do, with flair. and his master plan, if hard to conciliate as an entirely human thing -- again, his ideology doesn’t land that well as an explanation for the things he does -- shimmers in its sheer audacity: provoking a world war in order to intentionally enrage the gods! holy shit. and he almost succeeds, at that.

his backstory is also a point-for: it’s not the sort of backstory that explains things, per se, but it serves instead to establish that Ashnard has been Ashnard for as long as there has been Ashnard, and that’s splendid. not everything has to go all the way to the egg!

right, right, again I’m going to try not to go on forever, but I’d be remiss in not closing with one of Ashnard’s greatest strengths: the banter. this guy has the guillotine-sharp tongue to match the extent to which he doesn’t give a shit about anyone, and it makes for magnificent lines. the part where he tears Bryce a new one and still gets to deploy him to the final battle is easily one of Path of Radiance’s standout moments, in my opinion.

the scourge of valm and good arcs

(1/10)

this guy gets quite compelling dialogue for what’s easily one of the most batshit villains in the whole franchise, and even Awakening itself.

as usual, the game elects to make the parts of his motivation that makes sense a secret for after you kill him -- which not only makes them irrelevant by the time they land, but also make him sound like he’s bonkers while he’s still around. all of his playing at being Rudolf 2.0 lands seriously flat in a story that has otherwise not really established the gods he keeps talking about breaking free from. and once the cards are down, well, he succeeds in being Rudolf 2.0, in that, as far as I hear, Rudolf made a lot less sense before Shadows of Valentia came about; his M.O. of imperialism to prevent the apocalypse is just one big honking what the fuck??. how hard can it be to just tell people about that? who’s going to stop you, Excellus?

and I will also never forgive him for directly influencing his ancestor’s weaker design in the remakes-

the scourgoo

(??/10)

so from where I’m standing, his plot twist also sounds pretty lame, but hey, I’m not going to start rating Fates people now, right

so, how are you all enjoying your brutal subjugation under The Empire (TM)? do you welcome your new militaristic overlords, or are you already mounting the resistance? the ins and outs of what sort of catastrophe we’ll be facing in the upcoming Three Houses are yet to be revealed, but before we set about blaming the crests, what would you expect from the sort of figure who’d be pushing the lances to make it happen? comment what you will through replies and reblogs, but rest assured that you’ll never figure out the master plan behind this invasion... ahahahahahahaaaa!!

[mambo-rewritten]

A Girl by Many Names: Chapter 5

Previous

“It’s a damn good thing they’re letting us work together on these tests,” Six sighed, his tentacle curling on his forehead. “I can’t imagine completing all of these by myself. I think C.Q. said there were, like, eighty tests in total? And I don’t really see myself completing that many on my own.” The metro’s doors slid open, and the two subjects made their way inside and sat in their respective seats on the bench in the back of the train car.

“We should plan out where we’re gonna go next,” Five murmured, booting up her map of the metro’s railways as the train lurched forwards. “From the looks of it, we’ve unlocked lines B, C, and D, and have two items that we can retrieve on lines B and C, but C's item is farther away, meaning more tests. Unless we can unlock lines that will allow us to take shortcuts to get to the items easier, we’ve still got a ways to go.”

Six extended his arm to point at where lines D and C almost met. “Look here. There’s a line connecting these two. If we can get to the junction station and unlock this line, it should make getting C’s item easier.” He frowned, his lower lip getting caught between his teeth as he thought. “Five, we’re idiots.”

“Hey! Don’t lump me in with you!”

“No, look.” His hand traced over line C to where it connected with line D, then towards the right. “There’s a junction station two stops down. That should be where we head next. If my guess is right, the rail will connect to the ends of lines C and D over… here, which is where we were trying to go in the first place. We completely overlooked this station.”

“...Oh. I guess we are idiots, huh?” Five giggled, moving the cursor over to select the stop just before the junction station test, but hesitated. “Hey, Six? Doesn’t this all feel… I dunno, weird?”

He looked over at her, his eyes full of concern and confusion. “What do you mean?”

“It’s just… we wake up here with no memories, no idea of who we are, and suddenly they’re forcing us to take a variety of tests with the only goal being to survive and get to the goals they set up for us. Not to mention the octarians that are in there…” She trailed off, looking hard at the remote. “They used to be like us. They had lives before they came down here. Then something happened and… now they’re like that. Living, un-alive robots. And we just… kill them. Over and over again. Isn’t it weird?”

Six looked down as he mulled over Five’s words. “Yeah… when you spell it out like that… yeah, it is pretty weird. But… C.Q. wouldn’t actively hurt someone… would he? He’s a fucking sea slug!”

Five shook her head. “It wouldn’t be C.Q.. He’s just the conductor of the train. Someone else is pulling the strings, telling him what to do.”

“That would make sense. But shutting this place down isn’t really our primary objective, is it? We just wanna get our memories back and get out of here, right?” Six stood up, beginning to pace. “But doing that feels wrong! We can’t just leave them down here!”

“We have no other choice, Six! If we don’t get out of here, we’re gonna end up like them! Is that what you want to do with the rest of your life? Become someone’s puppet?! Because I sure as hell don’t wanna go back to that.” Five suddenly stopped, her turquoise eyes going wide. “Oh my cod, Six. I remembered something, just now. I was someone’s puppet before I fell.”

“Weren’t we all, technically? I mean, we all served under Octavio. We didn’t really have much of a choice, what with the hypnoshades and everything.”

Five shook her head. “No, I wasn’t ever required to, for some reason. A-anyways, we’re getting sidetracked. We need to focus on getting to the junction station so we can get the item and knock out one of the objectives. I can take on Targetbuster if you wanna do Girl Power and unlock the next rail line.” 

“You sure? Normally you’re the one to take on combat-centric tests,” Six crossed his arms. “I’m not skilled like you are, especially with elites.”

She pursed her lips in a pout and crossed her arms. “You did the last test. It’s only fair I do the next one and we trade off. You know, like we compromised? Plus, I’m a hell of a lot faster than you are.” 

Six sighed and hung his head in defeat. “You’re right… alright, fine.”

---

Five stepped out of the train and over to the weapon’s display. Two large brushes were presented on the wall, as well as a lightweight roller, all paired with curling bombs. Six walked up next to her, his brows knitted together as he helped her weigh her options. 

“The Carbon roller would give us the most points, but the Octobrush is recommended and yields the least, but the Inkbrush is faster when you run with it. And no matter which main weapon you choose, you’re gonna get curling bombs as your sub,” he contemplated, chewing on his lower lip in thought. A habit from his previous life that carried over, Five guessed. 

“So, which one should I go with?” She prompted, crossing her arms. 

“I’d go with the Octobrush to be on the safe side. Plus, we’re doing pretty well on points, so the extra four hundred from the Carbon isn’t really going to make much of a difference on our wallet.” Six lifted the larger, flat brush off of its pedestal and handed it over to Five, along with the bomb pack. “I’ll be waiting for you and watching from the turnstyle. Please be careful.”

Five snickered and rolled her eyes. “You’re such a worrywart. I’ll be fine and back before you know it.” She took the point card from his hand and gave him a smile as she swiped it on the turnstyle. “See you on the flipside.”

She sprinted out of the station platform, making a beeline for the dash track that lay at the very end of the entrance floor, and landed gracefully in front of a series of neon yellow and orange crates and between a set of nasty-looking Octowashers. Wasting no time, Five whipped out the brush and sprinted, weaving between the obstacles and taking out the initial twelve with speed unrivaled. 

The next six were a piece of cake, since they were simply stacked on one another. Riding the rail and taking out the next seven was easy enough, as well as the final nine on the ending platform. Five grit her teeth and swung the brush down with full force on the giant orange box, smashing it and sending it splintering across the platform. She sighed and watched the launchpad form at the very edge of the space, smirking to herself. 

---

Six was absolutely speechless, only able to gape at Five as she landed from her jump back to the station platform. “What was that?”

“What was what? How did I do?” Five asked, her voice tinged with worry as she placed her loaned weapon back on its pedestal on the wall. “I passed, didn’t I?”

“I-I mean, yeah, but… what the hell? You completed the test in half of the allotted time. I’m pretty sure that’s not how that’s supposed to work.” 

Five offered him a shrug. “I’m sorry? I told you I was fast. It just means we can keep going faster than we anticipated. I don’t see the issue.” She lead him back into the train, grabbing her black cloak and wrapping it around her shoulders. 

Six didn’t offer a response, his attention now turned elsewhere. “Uh, Five? We have a new passenger.”

“Hm?” She lifted her head and froze. A tall inkling man in a suit was sitting toward the front of the train car, his legs crossed casually as he examined something in his hands. “Hey, that’s mine! I mean, it’s not, but I found it!” She barked, causing him to lift his gaze from the octopus dagger and meet her eyes. Her blood instantly froze in her veins, and she found herself unable to move. 

His eyes were exactly like the octarians’ in the testing chambers: bright, glowing teal irises with black sclera surrounding them.

“Oh, my apologies, 10,005. I just found it intriguing, is all. Here,” he held out the handle towards her, a small smile playing on his lips. “I do, however, need to speak with you alone, my dear. It seems there has been an issue regarding your tests that I need to take care of.” 

“An issue? But C.Q. said Six and I could work together to pass?” She blurted out, pocketing the blade. “What’s the issue?”

The squid gave her a wry smile. “Not to worry, it has nothing to do with that. There is simply… how do I put this in a way that’s not alarming? There is simply a contaminant within your system that can prove fatal to the constructs within the testing facilities. We will have to decontaminate you in order for you to be able to continue with your assessments.”

Five paled slightly. “Contaminated? Like… I’m sick?”

“Not necessarily. The bacterium is not malicious to you, but to the constructs within each testing facility. The decontamination process won’t take too long, so we will be pulling you while 10,006 completes his next test.”

“Wait, hang on!” Six suddenly interjected, sending a glare towards the inkling. “You can’t just walk in here and tell us that she’s sick, then say you’re going to, I dunno, ‘cure’ her or whatever! We don’t even know who you are!”

“Six!” Five hissed.

The tall squid smiled, his eyes narrowing behind his round glasses. “Apologies for not introducing myself before. I am the CEO of Kamabo Corporation, Cecil Teufel. I monitor each subject’s succession rate in each facility and progress toward their goal to get to the promised land. I also handle a variety of things behind the scenes to keep things running smoothly for those who wish to make it to the promised land, and those who simply wish to ride my subway.”

Five turned to give Six a hard stare as she set her jaw and quirked a brow. 

“I-I meant no disrespect, sir. I’m sorry for my behavior,” Six stammered, his face suddenly becoming very warm as he shifted his gaze to the floor. “Thank you for allowing us to have a chance to find out who we really are.”

Mr. Teufel uncrossed his legs and rose to his feet, turning his attention to the tiny conductor. “C.Q., can you direct us to Central Station? I have business with 10,005 there. After you drop the two of us off, take 10,006 to his next assessment. I will alert you when she is ready to resume her tasks.” 

“Yes sir, Mr. Teufel. Now departing for Central Station.” 

The CEO smirked and looked back at the two octolings, folding his hands in his lap as he sat back down on the bench. “I look forward to seeing how you two progress, as you’ve both done excellently so far. 10,005?”

She snapped her turquoise gaze up to match his own, fear etching her features ever so slightly. “Yes…?”

“I’m going to make you... marvelous.”

First / Previous / Next

[let-it-raines]

Second in Command (Ep - Part 4)

Summary: Life as the “spare to the heir” isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be when you’re the supposed screw-up of the family, but people don’t know what really happens behind closed doors.

Rating: Mature

A/N: Just wanted to say that you guys are continuously kind people, and I appreciate every read, like, kudos, ask, comment, and reblog on this ridiculously long story! :D

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr Chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14| 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 |

Epilogue Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 

Tag List: @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @kmomof4 @wellhellotragic  @ekr032-blog-blog @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @a-faekindagirl @mayquita @captainsjedi @captswanis4vr @teamhook @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @branlovesouat @dreadpirateemma @alys07 @andiirivera

Indy walks ahead of him, her leash tugging him along, while Emma walks beside him, their steps matching up as their feet move over the pavement in the gardens. The dullness of the winter plants, brown and gray trees barren of leaves, are fading away and blooming into lush greens and vibrant colors. It’s still cold outside, temperatures dipping low, so he and Emma are bundled up as they take their early morning walk, something they’ve taken up together in the past few weeks.

He finds it relaxing with the simplicity of it all, and he knows that Emma feels the same. It’s a way for them both to get some exercise on days when the gym in their home goes unused as well as a way to give Indy more space to run. She’s calmed as she’s gotten a bit older, but she’s still rambunctious and would likely need acres and acres of land to roam and be completely happy with her running space. Maybe they should travel up to Norfolk and go to their country home so she has a larger backyard and he and Emma have more privacy to go out and about outside of their home without the interference of photographers and reporters aching for a picture of Emma’s stomach.

The last two months of their lives have been, quite frankly, some of the most hectic of his life. Finding out Emma is pregnant was honestly one of the best moments of his life, even if how she phrased it was a little cheeky after such an awful scare. God, when she fell on that stage, he felt his heart drop to his stomach. He’d never been more terrified of anything in his entire life. Something was wrong with his wife, his best friend, and he didn’t know what it was. She was conscious the entire time, but she just wasn’t right. And the two hours between her fall and her telling him that they were having a child, well, he felt as if they’d never end.

Now he knows he was being a bit dramatic, but hindsight is always twenty-twenty instead of the blurry, faded vision that comes when you’re in the moment. Emma and the baby are just fine, growing like a weed really. She’s got the smallest of stomachs, something she woke him up and showed him just a few days ago. She was so excited, her eyes lighting up and practically sparkling under the bathroom’s lights, and sure enough, there was the slightest curve to her stomach, more physical proof that they’re having a child, not that he really needed anymore. But it was something special, and he was just as thrilled to get to see the changes in her stomach.  

And in her breasts, but that doesn’t seem to be a very fatherly thing to think. He thinks it, though, and he really appreciates the growth and how her libido has come back in full force in the past few days. That’s simply something he won’t be sharing with the child one day, but he hopes she (he’s absolutely convinced they’re having a little girl even if he can’t seem to come up with the reason why) can see how enamored he is with her mother. If not, he’s failed them both.

“Hey, babe?”

“Yeah?” he questions, reaching his hand out and twining their fingers together while they continue to walk together, nearing Liam and Abigail’s apartment.

“I think we should go on a babymoon.”

“What the bloody hell is a babymoon? I’m pretty sure that’s not a phase of the moon they taught us in primary school.”

She laughs before taking a step closer to release his hand and tuck her arm around the crook of his elbow while resting her head on his shoulder. He knows she’s being affectionate, but he also knows that she’s not willing to admit that her hands are cold because he suggested she wear gloves before they went out and she didn’t. She’s stubborn as hell, his love.

“I mean, it’s just, like, a vacation before the baby is born. The name is a ridiculous thing. I know it’s super trendy and all, but maybe we could get away for a week or a weekend before I’m not allowed to fly anymore. I think something different might be good for us. Something warm.”

“So before you’re heavily pregnant? When can you not fly? Six or seven months?”

“Yep, I was thinking next month or May. Maybe June if we don’t travel too far away.”

“Well next month is busy.” He runs through the plans he knows they have, trying to remember everything off the top of his head while attempting to get Indy to move away from the rose bushes. “We had to push back the Kidding a Goal two-year event already to May, and Liam’s fortieth birthday party is happening. I’ve also got the trip to Poland. Those are just the big things, I think. We’d also have to work around our engagements, but the middle of May would probably work.”

“We could do it for our anniversary. Just earlier.” “True,” he agrees, continuing to run through his calendar in his head while tugging at Indy’s leash again, the dog finally deciding to move on with her explorations. “Why don’t we work on it when we get home this afternoon?”

“Sounds good to me,” she sighs, nuzzling her head into his shoulder before laughing at Indy attempting to chase a bird that’s flittering between bushes

The three of them return back to their apartment twenty minutes later, Indy’s tired legs and the cool air winning out, in order to shower and get ready to drive to Hounslow for their St. Patrick’s Day activities. Emma’s stylists work on her hair and makeup while he gets ready, dressing in his Irish Guard uniform as he did for their wedding. He catches Emma looking at him in the mirror, and he throws her a wink, smiling while bobby pins are attached to her hair to keep her hat in place over her blonde curls.

This is one of his favorite events and though it’s technically Emma’s responsibility, he always joins her for this particular engagement. It’s likely because he gets to pal around and drink a Guinness with members of the Guard afterward, but he enjoys it all around. It’s relaxed and informal, despite the military aspect of it, and those are always his favorite things to do. State dinners and other diplomatic events are not usually enjoyable, but he understands he’s there for the country and his father, not himself. He can help better Britain even if he’s really there to smile and shake hands while telling a cheeky joke that would get him in loads of trouble if his father ever caught wind of it.

(He’s still eternally thankful Brennan has no idea about the joke he once made while slightly intoxicated about the size of his father’s ego having a negative effect on other parts of his anatomy. It’s not the 1600s, he has a good relationship with his dad, and he feels like he still might get beheaded for that one.)

Thomas drives them to Hounslow, and they get out of the car to go and greet the crowds outside, shaking hands and accepting gifts. Over the years he’s grown accustomed to accepting flowers and letters, the occasional handmade jar of jam after he was once pictured as a child with raspberry jam all over his face, but lately it’s been all baby gifts all of the time. They have quite the collection of baby shoes, which he doesn’t understand because infants don’t need them, but they are damn cute. And tiny, so tiny. How can a human’s feet be so small?

He’s obviously well prepared to be a father if he can’t get past the size of infant shoes.

Sure enough, he’s handed several booties and outfits, the colors ranging as everyone tries to guess if they’re having a boy or girl and bugging him as if he’s going to share the private news with everyone. He and Emma don’t even know yet. She’s not far along enough, though he has a sneaking (see: strong) suspicion they’re having a girl. Emma thinks they’re having a boy, and he’s choosing to think that he knows better.

He very rarely does.

“Thank you,” he tells everyone, handing some of the gifts, including a miniature version of his uniform, to their aides, “this is so sweet of you all. Emma and I give you all of our love.”

He finds Emma near the end of the line, sliding his hand around her waist and pulling her closer while she fumbles with a few gifts too, stuffed bears and clothes along with a few flowers that are already causing some of her allergies to kick in.

“You ready to go inside, my love?”

“Yep,” he whispers in her ear as a camera flashes behind him, “we’ve got some Shamrock to hand out and beers to drink. Well, at least I get to do the second part.”

“Shut up,” Emma playfully whines, waving to people as they walk by, “you’re being rude reminding me of that.”

“Well, I do so enjoy pushing your buttons. Maybe I’ll let you kiss me later so you can taste the alcohol.”

“Yeah, I don’t think you should be counting yourself at getting lucky today, no matter how many four leaf clovers you find.” She kisses his jaw before pinching his cheek, and he barks out a laugh while they walk inside to get situated for the parade and the rest of their duties.

He wakes to kisses up and down his arm, soft lips and softer skin pressing into him as the haze of sleep fades away and the darkness of their bedroom comes into view. He can barely see a thing, his eyes still adjusting to the lack of light, but he can feel the heat of Emma’s body pressing into his back and sending pinpricks of pleasure throughout his body.

“W – what time is it, love?”

“A little past two.”

She kisses the back of his neck, right at his hairline, and the pressure of her breasts and her stomach pressing against him while her foot is running up and down his calves is already too much when he hasn’t been awake for more than a minute.

“Emma, love,” he grumbles when she starts inching down his back, her tongue tracing his spine, “you’ve got to give a man a moment.”

She stops then, rolling off of him and onto her back, the mattress slightly bouncing under her weight, and he groans at the lack of heat between them now. He didn’t mean for her to stop completely, but she’s obviously taken it that way. So he scoots over and kisses up her shoulder and her neck, fast flickers of his lips until he’s slanting them over hers and hovering above her.

“Hey, why’d you stop?”

“You told me to give you a moment, figured you weren’t quite ready or in the mood or something.”

She shrugs, her mused hair moving up and down as her eyes blink and her lips tick up on one side. His hand finds her face, caressing her cheek, and he smiles softly when she smiles back up at him.

“First of all,” he begins, pressing a kiss against each of her eyelids, “I am nearly always in the mood to be with my knock-out of a wife, so don’t get it in that head of yours that I’m not.” He moves to kiss behind her ear then, gently nibbling on the lobe. “Secondly, all I needed was a moment. It’s been awhile since I’ve been woken up in the middle of the night when you’ve already kept me up late.”

She laughs under her breath, the smallest, sweetest sound, before twisting her head and kissing him, slow and sweet so that he feels it in every inch of his body.

“Yeah, well, you can blame your kid for that.”

“Yes, I’ll tell her right as she’s born that she’s made mummy and daddy’s sex life slow down before she’s even born. I’m sure she’ll totally get that.”

“First of all, we still don’t know, and you are being super stubborn with the girl thing. And second of all, since we’re making points, our sex life is fine. We literally had sex three hours ago.”

“I said she’s slowing it down, not ruining it.”

“Semantics.”

“Romantic.”

“What?” She laughs, her eyes crinkling up on the sides as her smile stretches across her face. “That’s in no way romantic.”

“Oi, I think it is. Don’t you think sex is romantic?”

“I mean, obviously.” She rolls her eyes before rolling onto her side and pulling the comforter up over her. “But not in this context no. What I was doing before we got into this discussion was romantic sex.”

“That wasn’t sex.”

“It was the preface to sex, which is sometimes the best part. I was doing naughty things to you.”

“Did you just use the word naughty instead of dirty? Darling, you are officially British. Next thing you know you’re going to speaking with an accent.”

“I have an accent,” she protests, scrunching up her nose. “It’s just not the same as everyone over here, which I think makes me unique in all of the best ways.”

He rolls back over on his stomach and hooks his arm over Emma so that she can rest her chin on his forearm while he rests his on his pillow next to her head. “So do you think the babe will sound more like you or me?”

“You.” “Why?” “Because they’re going to grow up around people who sound like you. That’s what influences the accents, not necessarily just the parents. Think about it. I have an American dad and a British mom, and I have an American accent because that’s where I grew up.”

“True,” he hums, moving his hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. “Does that bother you at all?”

“Nah, not at all. It’s like the opposite of how it was in my house growing up. It’s kind of weird when you think about how similar it is.” She tilts her head and smirks at him. “Plus, your accent is damn sexy.”

“Really now?” he purrs, inching closer to her before crawling over her and propping himself up on his forearms and knees, making sure not to press his weight down on her stomach. “You think I’m sexy?”

“I think your accent is sexy,” she corrects, her lips ticking up on one side while her hands frame his cheeks, cool fingertips inching up into her hair and tugging him down so that he can feel the heat of her breath brushing over her lips. “Would you like to get back to where I was trying to go earlier or can I cross off doing naughty things to you?”

“Whatever the first thing was, most definitely.”

He wakes later that morning while Emma slumbers on her side of the bed, hair tangled and falling down her bare back from where the comforter shifted in her sleep. He quietly gets out of bed, attempting not to wake her or Indy who must have wandered into the room while they were sleeping, and makes his way into the bathroom, turning the water in the shower on to get ready for today.

He should have woken an hour ago, but the bed was too comfortable and his body too tired, so he rushes through his morning routine, using Emma’s blow dryer to fix his hair instead of letting it dry naturally. He slips into a suit, putting on a pair of his ever-growing collection of cufflinks, before spritzing on his cologne and grabbing his already packed suitcase out of the closet, letting the wheels trail along the hardwood until he’s back in the bedroom.

Stepping over to the bed, he scratches behind Indy’s ears, the dog opening one eye to look at him before cuddling back into bed as he sits down next to Emma.

“Love,” he whispers, pushing her hair off of her forehead until her eyes flutter open, the green hazy and sleep-ridden, “I’ve got to go.”

“Already?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, leaning down and kissing her forehead, “my flight is in two hours, and Mum likes to travel early.”

Emma yawns before sitting up, pulling the comforter over her and looking every bit like the girl he met nearly eight years ago with her crazy hair and pillow creased face and complete lack of care if she looks put together or not. “Okay,” she sighs, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him into a hug, “but you two be safe. Call me when you land, when you come home, if anything interesting happens, if anything boring happens.”

“I know the long-distance drill, sweetheart.” He brushes his lips against hers then, feeling the softness that comes with Emma. “But it’s only two days. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Ugh, I know. Two days doesn’t give me nearly enough time to have my affair.”

“You’re a cheeky little minx, so I’m sure you could figure it out.”

“Damn right.” She kisses him again. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He reaches down and touches her stomach, her skin warm beneath his touch. “And you, little love.” Indy barks then, walking up the bed until she’s breathing in his face. “And you, Indy girl, even if you’re not supposed to be in this bed.”

He and his mother fly to Poland that morning for a dinner the British ambassador is hosting in honor of Liam and his birthday in a few weeks time. They were given short notice on the event, and since Liam couldn’t attend, Killian and Allison agreed to attend, knowing it would be no trouble for them. The morning flies by as all of these official visits do, in a flurry of handshakes and small talk, everyone attempting to fill his head with as much information as they can. It’s been awhile since he’s done an event with his mum, something he used to do when he was younger, but they fall into a natural rhythm. His mum is an expert at things like this, using her quick wit and kind smile to make everyone comfortable, and if there’s ever been anyone he’s tried to emulate, it would be her.

“Oh, this is gorgeous,” Allison compliments as they walk into the dining hall, her hand wrapped around his elbow. “We should decorate one of the rooms at home more like this. It’s more modern.”

“Well then we’d have to get rid of the ancient furniture that no one is allowed to sit on.”

She chuckles next to him as he pulls her chair out for her and waits for her to sit down before taking his own seat next to her. “You and your brother get cheekier the older you get, I swear. I’m pretty sure it’s supposed to be the other way around.”

“Well, you can’t take away our video game privileges now, mum.”

The dinner is indeed wonderful and full of Polish dishes and traditions celebrating Liam. He takes a video to send to his brother, making sure to capture the cake he knows Liam would be stuffing into his face and flipping the camera around to show the smirk on his face that he got to eat it.

Should have shown up to his own pre-birthday event.

Later that night he and his mum are driven back to their hotel, and while they have separate suites, she joins him for a cup of tea, settling down into the living room with the television playing the local news. His phone buzzes just as a segment on their visit begins, and he’s thankful for the excuse to mute the sound.

“Hey, beautiful,” he greets Emma, his lips stretching into a smile as he props his feet up on the coffee table, his socks practically falling off next to his glass, “did you miss me today?”

“Obviously. However could I survive twelve hours without you?”

Her voice is dripping with disdain, and he chuckles to himself as he imagines the roll of her eyes and the absolute disinterest she has when he’s being cocky. “You could at least act a little sad.”

“I can cry if you want me to, if that would make you feel better and boost your already inflated ego.”

“So you’re just as cheeky as you were this morning then. What’d you do today, love?”

“Absolutely nothing,” she sighs, the happiness seeping through the phone speaker. “I got dressed in pajamas, took Indy out, and then we settled down in the darkness of the bedroom and watched Gilmore Girls just to relive all of that nostalgia.”

“Ah, yes, I’m sure Indy has a lot of nostalgia about Stars Hollow.”

“Of course she does,” Emma laughs, and he can hear the theme song playing in the background. “Ruby came over for a few hours with food from the restaurant. I may save some leftovers for you.”

“Yeah, I already know that won’t be happening.”

“Hey, I don’t eat that much! I haven’t even gained any more than regular pregnancy weight.”

“Love, you and the Gilmore Girls all have amazing metabolisms. I’ve gained more pregnancy weight than you simply because our walks aren’t quite the same as our runs.”

“I can still run, you know? Dr. Hudson said so as long as it’s just a jog and not too much.”

“I know. We’ll have to do that when I get home. Mum and I ate a lot of cake tonight.”

Emma hums, sighing into the phone. “I’m jealous. Tell Allison I said hi when you see her in the morning.” “She’s sitting with me in the room right now actually, so if you were going to talk bad about her, now probably wouldn’t be the time.”

“Damn. That’s obviously what I was about to do.”

He and Emma chat for a few more minutes, but he knows he has to let her go so as not to be rude to his mother. She’s been fiddling with her phone and watching the muted television, so he’s sure she’s regretting coming over only to be usurped by a phone call.

“Hey, darling, I’ve got to let you go, okay?”

“Okay, is everything alright?”

“Everything is perfect. I’ve just been boring Mum making her listen to our conversation. I love you. I hope you, Indy, and little love have a good time binging the rest of Gilmore Girls and eating all of my food.” “We will,” she promises. “I love you, too. Bye, babe.”

He hangs up the phone, smiling at the picture of he and Emma that pops up afterward, before shutting it down and placing it on the arm of his chair. He looks up at his mother then who is softly smiling at him as if she really was listening to his conversation.

“What?” he laughs, feeling the slightest bit uncomfortable.

“Nothing,” she smiles, pulling her legs up underneath her and curling into the chair, “I was just thinking about how happy you are.”

His lips twitch, and he swallows the small lump of emotion in his throat. “Well, I am happy, Mum. I’m nearly always happy.”

“I know, I know,” she waves him away, tucking her long hair behind her ears, “but you’ve just been through so much and sometimes I look at you and wonder how I got so lucky that you’re my baby. And now you’re having a baby, and I’m emotional about it all of the time.”

“Mum,” he softly laughs, getting up from his seat to cross the room and crouch down in front of her, taking her hands in his, “what’s going on? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m simply a crazy old woman.”

“Well, we all know that’s not true,” he promises, guessing that it’s not the time to be making jokes. “You’re bloody brilliant and completely and totally young.”

“Thank you, Killian. It was just that I was watching how natural you are with Emma, how good you’ll both be as parents. And I guess sometimes I feel so much regret over not getting to see you both together for all of those years. You were so cheated.”

“Hey,” he soothes, running his thumb over her knuckles and ignoring the ache in his thighs from the squat, “it’s all okay. I know that a lot of it was bloody awful, but if I’m honest, I liked having those years with Emma. We got to fall in love in peace, and as wonderful as it would be for you to have gotten to know her sooner, we can’t change that. So let’s be happy, yeah?”

“I know, darling. I’m sorry, but being a mum and a grandmother, all you want is for your kids to be happy. And you feel a bit accomplished when you realize they are. You’ll understand that soon enough.”

“Well, once we get over the terror and get used to having a person’s entire life depend on us, yeah, sure, I’ll focus on the happiness.”

His mum releases his hand to stroke his forehead, pushing the hair back. “You two are going to be wonderful, and your baby is going to be the most beautiful little thing.” “Can you say that again for me to send to Liam and Abigail? I’d like to have it on record for bragging rights for the rest of eternity.”

His mother winks at him, smiling before leaning back in her chair and asking him what movie he wants to watch. It’s been a long time since he simply spent time with his mum with no one else, so he savors it, laughing with her and talking about anything she wants until she decides to go to bed in her room next door.

The following day is full of engagements, but the two of them manage to slip away to dinner and sightseeing that evening, covering themselves in the cool early April weather and hiding away from anyone who may recognize them so they can have a normal night. Overseas visits, even with all of their setbacks and frustrations, are some of his favorite things to do if only because he can sometimes slip away and be himself in a place where fewer people know him.

Of course, he managed to slip around London for a few years as well, but he’s decided that was some kind of bloody miracle.

Early Wednesday morning they board their flight and make their way home, the four-hour plane ride seemingly stretching on for double the time until they touch down on land again and he and his mother separate into their different vehicles to make their ways back to Kensington and Buckingham, respectively.

Walking in the front door, he knows Emma won’t be home as she’s at the opening of a youth theater, so he takes the opportunity to let Indy in from their garden, indulging her in her excitement over him being home, her tail wagging so furiously she could create a windstorm. After she’s calmed, he settles down into the living room and pulls up his laptop, answering emails and organizing his schedule all while watching the shows he missed.

Multi-tasking in the best way possible, really.

It’s hours later when he hears the front door open before closing and clicking into place as heels click on their hardwood floor, the sounds getting louder the nearer she gets.

“Hi,” Emma sighs when she walks into the living room, immediately walking toward him and straddling his lap, her knees on either side of his thighs, while she presses a lingering kiss to his jaw and scrapes her fingers through his hair, “I’m so, so, so glad you’re home.”

“Hmm, me too,” he smiles before slanting his lips over hers once, twice, three times. “As much fun as I had with my mother honoring my brother, I quite prefer your company. And I was promised leftovers.”

Emma laughs against his lips as the heat of her breath washes over him and he settles into contentment. “Babe, I hate to break it to you, but those did not last.”

“Well, I guess you’ll have to figure out a different way to welcome me home.”

She smirks before burying her face in his neck, her words spoken against his skin. “A foot rub would be fantastic, thanks. Those heels are a killer.”

Without his permission, not that it has ever been that way before, the first few weeks of April pass in the blink of an eye. He wants his life to slow down, for moments to pass like waves crashing into the shore, continuous and only quickly during a storm, but that’s simply not how things work.

Of course, there are times when he’d like life to speed up the slightest bit, and right now is one of those times.

He’s been sitting on the bed thumbing through his phone for twenty-seven minutes now, half of it spent reading an article about hair loss genes being passed down simply because that’s what was at the top of the page, but he’s gotten a bit bored. There’s also the fact that they’re going to be late for Emma’s doctor’s appointment if she doesn’t hurry up. She always takes longer than him to get ready, but it’s never like this, especially when they’re just hopping over to the doctor’s office and then coming back home to get ready for Liam’s birthday party tonight.

Sighing, he rolls over on the bed until he’s standing, pulling his jeans up so that they rest on his hips, and walks into the bathroom to find it empty of Emma but with clothes strewn across the floor. He tentatively steps over them, keeping himself from picking them up and throwing them in the basket, and makes his way into the closet where Emma is stretched out on the floor with her arms over her face and her jeans on but unbuttoned and unzipped.

Bloody hell, it’s a mess in here.

“Hey,” he tentatively begins, kicking at her bare feet with the tip of his boot so that she uncovers one of her eyes, “what’s happening here?”

“My jeans don’t fit. Not a single pair of them except for the ones that have yellow paint on the ass because mom decided she wanted to have a sunny yellow living room.”

“And this is surprising to you because?”

“Because last week my jeans fit, and this week they don’t. That is some kind of fucked up thing.”

“I believe that’s called pregnancy.”

Her eyes slant and every bit of joy that was remaining on her face disappears while she stares up at him like she’s five seconds away from murdering him. “I will stab you with the first earring I find if you don’t wipe that smug smirk off your face.”

He chuckles under his breath, knowing that she’ll likely do it, before squatting down and lying on the floor next to her, emulating her position. The hardwood hurts his back, but he imagines they won’t be here for long. If they are, he’ll just have to suck it up until this all important jeans situation is resolved.

“So your jeans won’t fit, love?”

“Nope. And I don’t really think I’ve gotten that much bigger. I still just kind of look like I ate too big of a meal when I’m wearing clothes. I don’t know why this is bothering me so much. Obviously, I can just do the hairband trick until I buy new jeans, but I love wearing the damn things. They make me feel normal.”

“What? Wearing heels and a dress that perfectly matches your coat with a hat that was specifically dyed to match that coat and dress doesn’t make you feel normal? I never would have guessed.”

She snorts beside him while her hand finds his, and she wraps her fingers around his palm before pulling it up and brushing a kiss against his skin. “Surprisingly, no, that does not make me feel normal. That makes me feel like a barbie doll.”

“You’re not a barbie doll, love.”

She sighs next to him, but it’s really more of a huff. She’s frustrated, that much he knows, and a part of him is pretty sure that it’s not only because her jeans don’t fit. So he squeezes her hand, silently encouraging her to share her thoughts as he so often does with a touch or a glance.

“That’s just how I feel sometimes, you know? And I know that’s not how it is with you and me. But to the world it’s like I’m this girl who plays dress up and is a wife and an expectant mother and nothing else, which is fine if that’s what you want. And babe, I love that. I love being married to you and having a baby with you who I am so in love with it’s basically an obsession, but if I have to answer one more question about if I think you’re going to change a diaper or wake up in the middle of the night if the baby’s crying, which is literally what a parent does, while you stand next to me and answer a question about global relations, I’m going to lose my damn mind.”

“I know,” he mumbles, the weight and unfairness of her words settling into him. “I’m sorry that you’re so frustrated, and I’m sorry that some people are stuck in an old-timey world view.” He releases her hand and twists on the ground, propping his head up in his hand while looking Emma in the eye. “Why don’t you take up a patronage or two dealing with women’s rights or something similar? I know everyone was on the fence of that because they thought it was too political, but fuck that, Emma. If that’s something you want to do, you sure as hell should do it. It’s not political. It’s human, and you would be an incredible ambassador. You should do things that make you happy.”

Her eyes light up, lips twitching into a smile. “Yeah?”

“Absolutely. The fact that we don’t have any specifically for that is bullocks when we support nearly everything. You could help so many people, and I think you’d be a bloody rockstar at it.”

“I know I would.”

“That’s the spirit,” he encourages, leaning over and brushing a kiss against her lips, letting it go a little further than either of them should when they have to be somewhere soon. “But right now we’ve got to go see if I’m going to win our bet because we’ll finally see that our little love is a girl.”

“You keep thinking that. Also, there was no bet, and if there was, I never lose.”

“Oh shit, that’s cold,” Emma gasps as Dr. Hudson applies gel to her bared stomach, her bump only sticking up the slightest bit while she wears her jeans buttoned together with a hairband, the determined lass. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to that.”

“Most people never do,” Dr. Hudson assures them. “So all of your tests look good, everything in normal levels. Are we having any dizzy spells?”

“No,” Emma answers, her eyes focused on the screen that’ll show the baby in a few seconds, “I haven’t. And my diet and eating times are so regularly scheduled and planned thanks to the obsessed man next to me, so I’ve been feeling really good.”

Her hand finds his so much like earlier, and he clasps it between both of his hands before leaning down to kiss her forehead. “She’s been doing well, not a lot of symptoms.”

“Well, she’s in that wonderful sweet spot of the pregnancy. It usually only gets worse from here.”

“That’s not very encouraging.”

Dr. Hudson laughs before focusing all of her attention back on the ultrasound, the baby’s heartbeat suddenly sounding throughout the room. God, the first time he heard it, the rhythmic beat so much calmer than his own, he nearly cried. Okay, so he might have cried, a few tears slipping from his eyes. Emma didn’t even cry until later when she came home with the picture and fell apart saying she couldn’t see the baby and felt like Rachel from Friends.

But he’s grown accustomed to the sound of their child’s heartbeat now, and as the picture pops up on the screen, she’s as clear as can be.

“So we’re looking really healthy, heartbeat is good, growth is good. And you’re eighteen weeks now, so while sometimes I can’t tell, I can tell you the gender today, if that’s what you want?”

He looks down at Emma to find her already looking up at him, a smile gracing her lips as she nods in confirmation. “We want to know.”

“Alright,” Dr. Hudson smiles, looking at the monitor one last time, “you two are the lucky parents to a boy.”

A boy.

He’s going to have a son.

Holy shit, Emma’s never going to let him live this down, but he doesn’t care at this point. They’re having a boy.

“I told you so,” Emma chuckles, looking up at him with tears in her eyes. “I am never letting you live this one down.”

“I know.” He dips his head down to brush his lips against hers, squeezing her hand as tightly as possible as this begins to sink in even more. “Maybe I’ll get the next one right.”

“One human coming into the world out of my vagina at a time please.”

“You have such a way with words.”

“Just being honest,” she laughs, the sound as beautiful as the heartbeat still playing on the monitor. “I love you.”

“I love you too. And the little lad.”

“Yeah, and the little lad.”

He and Emma walk across the gardens to Liam and Abigail’s apartment, Emma’s heels clicking against the cobblestone. He already knows that she’ll be wearing his shoes on the short walk home, but she’d insisted she wear the heels for the portrait they’re taking to commemorate Liam’s fortieth birthday. It’s apparently a major milestone in life, deserving of an official portrait, and as much as he loves his brother, he thinks Liam’s a tad bit over the top.

But he and Liam differ in a lot of ways, Liam’s penchant for large celebrations and dinners with several courses while in evening wear one of those things. They were both raised this way, to expect and want dinners and parties like this, and maybe once upon a time had he never met Emma, that’s how he would celebrate all of his birthdays.

His wife, God bless her, is a fan of the simple things in life. She likes eating takeout on the couch with her feet tucked under her legs which are likely clothed in leggings that have a hole on the inside of her thigh. She enjoys sitting around watching television in the darkness of their bedroom for hours on end, sometimes an entire day (or two), and if she could, she’d probably spend the rest of her time in the garden throwing a ball for Indy to chase. For his birthday, all they did was a small dinner with friends and family, and it was perfect. He couldn’t have asked for anything more.

But he doesn’t mind the party Liam and Abigail are having. Everyone can enjoy what they want, and this day isn’t about him. It’s about his brother.

He and Emma step up to their front door, the towering black wood with moss looming above them, and he’s just about to knock on the door when Emma stops him with a hand on his forearm.

“What?” he laughs, turning to face her, their height difference almost gone with her heels.

“You have to be careful with how you talk about the baby. We’re keeping the sex a secret, remember?”

“Darling, I think they know we had sex. That’s not a secret.”

Her face scrunches up, and he leans down to brush a kiss against her lips before leaving a trail of kisses across her face, making her laugh under her breath.

“You’re going to make dad jokes. I already know.”

“I’ve been preparing for it with my humor for my entire life.” He grins, kissing her again simply because he can. “But I promise I’ll be on my best behavior, and I won’t mention our joyful news. As far as anyone in there knows, we know nothing.”

“That’s right Jon Snow.”

“Hey,” he chuckles, wrapping his arm around her waist and tugging her into his side before knocking on the door and ringing the doorbell, “he lived in the series, so that’s totally not an insult.”

The door opens before Emma can say anything else, Liam appearing on the other side of the door in his suit. “Hey guys,” he greets, a bright smile on his face as he takes a step back, “why don’t you come on in?”

“So nice of you to invite us into your home when we were supposed to be here,” he snarks, knowing it’ll rile Liam.

“Well, I was going to say I’m glad to see you, but I’m apparently only glad to see Emma. Hello, love,” he smiles before leaning into kiss Emma on the cheek and wrap her in a hug. “How are you today?”

“Good, great really. Happy birthday, old man.”

Liam barks out a laugh before releasing Emma, clapping her on the shoulder and throwing her a wink. “Has Killian been calling me older brother, emphasis on the older, all day?”

“Surprisingly not, but that’s just because he calls you an old wanker all of the time anyways.”

“No bit of that surprises me.”

Liam embraces him then, wrapping his arms around Killian’s shoulders as Killian does the same. “Happy birthday, olderbrother. What’d you buy for your midlife crisis?”

“Saving the sportscar for the fiftieth birthday. I’m not old yet, thank you very much.”

“You two are ridiculous,” Emma laughs, walking past the both of them and down the hall where he spies Alexander and Elizabeth running between the archways.

“Are we?” Liam questions, patting him in the back before following Emma. “I don’t think anyone has ever described us that way.”

“There’s a first for everything.”

The two of them find everyone in the dining room, roaming throughout the table and the bar that’s set up through the next room. Emma’s animatedly chatting with Abigail, her hands moving all over the place while Lizzie tugs at her dress until Emma picks her up and rests her on her hip. There’s several of Liam’s old military friends as well as a few of he and Abigail’s friends who he recognizes from events over the years. Their home is packed, chatter filling his ears while he goes around greeting everyone before stopping at the bar and ordering a glass of rum.

“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be in solidarity with your wife?”

He turns to the side and smiles down at Abigail, kissing her temple after he finishes his sip. “Hello, darling. Did Emma send you over here to tell me that?”

“No, but I remember being pregnant and my husband’s lips tasting like whiskey after a party.”

He chuckles under his breath, finding Emma talking to his parents before turning back to look at Abigail. “The only problem with that statement is that Liam drinks whiskey instead of rum. Bloody awful drink. And I’ve cut back on the coffee and tea in solidarity, thank you very much.”

“Oh well look at you Mr. Big Shot,” she jokes, squeezing his bicep. “You’re just so kind.”

“Someone is awfully sassy today, love. Is it because you’ve realized you’re married to an old man and are compensating?”

“Exactly. I’m trying to cope with his ancient age.” “That’s what I thought. I’m going to go kiss Emma so she tastes the rum since I’m just that evil.”

Abigail snorts next to him, and he leaves her with a smile before making his way to Emma and kissing her before she gets a chance to say anything. He lets his tongue flicker out so she can taste the rum, his own little private joke, but he doesn’t think she minds from the way she hums into it. His parents probably mind from the way they cough next to him, but they can wait.

“Hi,” Emma whispers when he pulls back, “did you forget we’ve got company, tiger?”

“No. I just didn’t bloody care.”

His parents laugh behind him, and he turns to greet them then, hugging his parents and asking them how they’re doing before they get called off to chat. Liam really should have held this dinner somewhere other than his home for how many people are in here, and Emma asks him to go sit in the other room, quiet surrounding them until Alex runs in and practically jumps on Emma’s stomach with all the force of his bony limbs.

“Mummy told me that you have a baby in your belly, Emmy.”

“Well, your Mummy is a smart lady because I do have a baby in my belly.”

“Wow,” Alex gasps, his eyes lighting up as he puts his hands on Emma’s stomach before looking up at her and speaking in the cutest little voice with his broken words that are constantly getting better. “Is it a boy or a girl?”

“We don’t know yet,” Emma lies, and Killian chuckles next to her, rubbing up and down her back. “That’s going to be a surprise.”

Alex huffs and crosses his arms, obviously cross at them for not letting him know if his cousin is going to be a boy or a girl. It’s likely a good thing he wasn’t old enough to understand this all when Abigail was pregnant with Lizzie because he would have been up in arms about all of the surprises and secrets. “What’s its name?”

“We don’t know that either, buddy,” he answers to try to take some of Alex’s blame off of Emma. 

“I think you should name it Fish.”

Emma snickers next to him, biting her bottom lip to try to contain it. It’s then that he gets an idea, sticking out his stomach as far as he can and making himself look bloated. “What about me, buddy? Does Uncle Killian look like he’s having a baby?”

“Uncle Killian looks like a silly goose,” Abigail coos as she steps in the room, squatting down next to Alex, “and you look like someone who needs to go to sleep.”

“I don’t want to.”

“You have to. It’s bedtime.”

Alex’s bottom lip starts quivering while his eyes begin to water, the meltdown imminent. Within seconds Abigail has him on her hip walking out of the ballroom and meeting Liam and Elizabeth by the doorway, the two of them walking away to put their kids to bed like some kind of well-oiled machine.

“You know, Abigail isn’t even my mother, and if she told me it was time to go to bed, I’d listen.”

Emma giggles beside him, leaning back into the couch and into him before resting her head on his shoulder. He kisses her hair while he rubs her back, knowing she’s likely tired when they’ll still be here for awhile, but it’s only a short walk home if she asks for it.

“You are a very smart man because you listen to all of the women in your life.”

“Damn right. Even Lizzie. She’s two, but she’s the boss.”

“Who’s the boss?” Brennan asks them, settling down on the couch across the coffee table from them. “Because the answer better be your mother or Emma. If not, you are lying, son.”

“Lizzie,” Emma answers for him, patting his stomach before her hand rests on his thigh, squeezing a little too high as if she’s trying to rouse him. “Lizzie is the boss.”

“Damn right,” Brennan laughs, echoing Killian’s words from a moment ago even if he didn’t hear them. “I’ve never seen a kid with such spunk.”

“Oi, I had that kind of spunk, dad. Still do.”

“Yeah, but you’re old now. I don’t remember these things.”

“Your firstborn is forty! I’m still barely in my thirties! How can you call me old? You’re the oldest person at this party.”

“And the most handsome,” Allison adds in, sitting down next to Brennan and brushing a kiss against his cheek. His parents were never affectionate before, and as happy as he is with everyone’s changes, his fifteen-year-old self is cringing watching them be that way. But it’s only in the best way, his family having felt like a family for two years now, and no part of him would trade things to go back to how they were.

Eventually dinner is served and everyone sits down at the large table, silverware clicking against plates and the laughter and chatter in the home only increasing the more people drink (except for he and Emma of course because he does abstain in solidarity sometimes). There’s several stories about Liam told, some he’d never heard before, and his stomach hurts from laughter. God, his brother was such a crack up, something he never really knew, and he wishes they’d gotten along all of those years.

But they didn’t. There was too much of an age discrepancy, too much of a difference in wants out of life, and most of all, too much hostility. He loves his brother, something that took him a long time to admit, but Liam’s not perfect. He can still be a bloody git and they still argue over some things, but he’s changed. And while there are still flashes of the day he came to this very home to confront his brother, to try to work things through only to be rejected and told that Liam’s only trying to do better for his children, he’s come to terms with it. They can’t change the past. They can’t take things away or add words left unsaid, but forgiveness even when the other person doesn’t deserve it is a powerful thing.

Or so he’s been learning over the past few years.

This is infinitely better than any life he could have lived away from his parents and his brother. And he’d have given it all up for Emma. There’s no doubt about it, and he still fully believes that. She’s worth it all. But this is better.

“Hey,” Emma whispers, rubbing between his shoulder blades before her hand finds the hair at the tape of his neck, causing shivers to run down his spine, “what are you thinking about? You’ve zoned out.”

He hums, closing his eyes before leaning over and kissing her temple, the vanilla of her shampoo invading him. “I was thinking about you.”

“Cheesy.” “Absolutely. But also the truth. I just…all of these stories about Liam, they make me realize how glad I am that we went through all of that to fix it and came out better on the other side because now I have stories to tell about him like that.” “I thought you were thinking about me.”

“Well, that came after thinking about my brother.” “That’s kind of gross.”

“Yeah, well, I was thinking about how I’m glad we’re here, but I’d still give it all up for you. And for the little love, my love.” “Well,” Emma smiles, tangling their fingers together under the table, “the good thing is that you don’t have to. We’re all a big, messy, wonderful package that you get for the rest of your life whether you like it or not.”