#beyond that i could switch it for lots of reasons. finished project. in the mood for that dragon. wanted to match a new vista

[introvertguide]

Abuse of Children Portrayed in Film

I like to use movies as an escape from the harshness of the real world and one of the things that I have learned about in my education is the effects on children when they are mistreated. I have a Masters Degree in Developmental Psychology and one of the hardest classes for me to handle was Abnormal Development in Children and Adolescents. We covered everything from dealing with dyslexia and ADHD to surviving severe abuse and loss at a very early age. We had guest speakers that ranged from people who had escaped genocide as children, to individuals who had been sold into prostitution by their parents, to people who had suffered severe abuse from their parents or guardian. I have heard stories that will stick with me forever and that is nightmare fuel that I don't want to share.

Because of my background education, I take note of the treatment and behavior of children and adolescents in the movies that I watch. There have been many great movies over the years that have depicted the suffering of children and it has always been difficult for me to deal with. There are more well known examples of films that focus on suffering but throw in more of a "sometimes we all suffer, even the children" message that demonstrate that kids aren't immune to great travesties (basically any film about The Holocaust). There are also well known films that show children "coming of age" through hardship (Annie 1982, Oliver! 1968) but end perfectly. There is a more current series of films that focuses entirely on a boy discovering a fantasy world that was robbed from him when his parents were murdered by a tyrant (Harry Potter series). But in this list I want to review some lesser known films that show examples of abuse. Even after all that I have seen and heard, the following list of films have affected me personally for one reason or another. Sometimes the children in these films endure and overcome their situation in the end. Sometimes these children do not survive or sadly remain in their misfortunes. To me, this can make the movie all the more powerful because of the incredible amount of pathos that endangering a child character can add. It can also make it a heart wrenching experience that is painful to watch. Here are some powerful films in which children suffer and the struggle is one of the main plot lines of the movie:

SPOILER WARNING AND VIEWER DISCRETION ADVISORY!!! I AM GOING TO GIVE AWAY THE PLOT TO THESE FILMS AND IT SHOULD GO WITHOUT SAYING THAT SOME OF THE PLOTS ARE DISTURBING!!! EITHER WATCH THE FILM IF YOU DON'T WANT SPOILERS OR CHECK OUT THE FOLLOWING SUMMARIES IF YOU WOULD RATHER JUST HEAR WHAT HAPPENS SO YOU KNOW IF YOU WANT TO WATCH OR NOT!!!

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Sybil (TV Movie) 1976

I just recently saw this film after I had heard of the story in my abnormal development class almost 10 years ago. It is the story of a woman who developed multiple personalities to deal with a childhood in the care of an undiagnosed schizophrenic mother. The movie stars Sally Fields and is based on a true account of Shirley Ardell Mason and her treatment by psychologist Cornelia Wilbur. The acting in the film is overdramatic at times, but it definitely reminded me of some of the actual old videos of Shirley Mason and her sudden strange switches in personality when she was scared or anxious. Dr. Wilbur used hypnosis to actually introduce Mason to her alternate personalities and she was able to recognize her disassociative identity disorder and overcome it. It still hurts me to think that this person was mentally wounded so deeply by her parents that it basically shattered her into pieces in an effort to make sense of things.

Leon: The Professional 1994

I mention this film a lot because it is a heartwarming story of an assassin teaching a young orphan how to murder. It is the breakout role for Natalie Portman and it is just amazing. Leon is a "cleaner" that lives next door to an abusive and addictive family with a troubled girl named Mathilda. The father gets in trouble with the mob and some enforcers come by and slaughter most of the family while Mathilda is getting groceries. She returns during the massacre and realizes what is happening so continues next door and pleads for shelter. Leon takes her in and teachers her the trade and protects her from the men who want to finish her off. The movie was written and directed by Luc Besson and stars Jean Reno, Gary Oldman, and Natalie Portman. The suffering that this girl endures because of her parent's addictions hurts me, yet I have seen and enjoyed this film many times. I recommend watching when in the mood to be deeply affected by the trials of a little girl and the killer who protected her.

Kids 1995

This film came out when I was early in high school and bothered me greatly. It is a story by Harmony Korine, and one of his many attempts to capture the hopeless lives of unmotivated and unsupervised teens. These are young teens having unprotected sex, stealing money to do drugs, and attacking people in the park. I did not really go to these kinds of parties when I was that age (or ever really) and it has bothered me to think that adolescents would partake in this kind of behavior. It is hard for me to believe that these kids had the ability to mentally comprehend the consequences of their actions and some of the characters end up contracting HIV from each other. I would not recommend the film because it is a depressing day in the life that no youth should have.

Gummo 1997

I would not call this a good movie and I wouldn't really recommend it. It is another work by Harmony Korine and really details the depravity that can occur with unsupervised youths living in low socio-economic conditions. This movie is just depressing and motivated me to find something to motivate me into action. I got into both psychology and teaching, which has served me well for the past 20 years. It was this film that showed me how low the bar for quality of life could be, and I guess for that I am thankful. However, I still wouldn't recommend it.

Happiness 1998

This movie I didn't see right away but noticed it at the video store on many occasions. I final watched it when I was about 25 on the recommendation of a friend and one particular storyline greatly disturbed me. It is basically the story of 3 sisters that feel they should be happy and project a face of happiness, yet they are miserable and have horrible lives. One sister in particular is married to a psychiatrist who turns out to be a pedophile that rapes the friends of his young son. At one point rather early on in the movie, this man confesses to his son that he raped the boy's friends and that he would do it again. The son is so confused that he asks his father why he never raped him. It is so disturbing to me because I know the boys that were assaulted will be forever damaged and this boy who was not actually raped will be mentally scarred as well. The fact that there are people in the world that would harm children that way, recognize what they had done, and then know they didn't have the self control to stop themselves from doing it again is horrifying to me.

Lilya 4-Ever 2002

This film is deeply disturbing and I highly recommend never watching it. I will spoil it for you now so you never have to see it if you don't want. A 16-year-old girl named Lilya lives with her mother. The mom gets a boyfriend and the couple move to America and abandons Lilya with a neglectful aunt. The aunt movies into the old apartment of her sister and Lilya is forced to move out and become a prostitute to make money. A boy comes along and convinces her to move to Sweden to escape her life. When they arrive, this boy sells her to a pimp and she becomes a teenage sex slave. She almost escapes, but is then captured and beaten almost to death. She escapes again and this time commits suicide so she won't be recaptured. This movie is awful and changed my mind about giving every film a chance. I wish I could forget this film, but I can't. Perhaps it is just not for me, but this film presentation is definitely an experience that you won't soon forget.

The Kite Runner 2007

I read this book in my twenties and saw the film in my thirties and both affected me greatly. A well-to-do boy and his friend are in a kite battle competition and the friend is beaten and raped when he goes to retrieve a fallen kite. The well-to-do boy denies knowing what happened to his friend (he does know) and basically shames and abandons him. This action haunts the well-to-do boy for the rest of his life. How the boy who was raped is basically falling prey to blaming the victim is heartbreaking, and the lifetime of guilt of the other boy is pitiable. Neither boy was the actual attacker yet they both were the ones that suffered.

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There are many other examples of movies along these lines and could be found if you feel like suffering. I can't say that I would recommend them because they are very difficult to watch. Beyond just dealing with the content, it is rare to find child actors who can actually portray somebody who has truly suffered. The mix of bad acting and a depressing plot can make for a terrible movie going experience. The genre of movie involving suffering does exist, though, and it could be enjoyed (?) by some. Just not generally by me.

[sscolariwords]

Fire and Metal

Shepard's been spending a lot of time in Mordin's lab as of late. EDI put it to an analytical metric, informing Joker and Garrus that approximately thirty-one percent of her waking activity was spent in there. Considering she's consistently been up for thirty eight hours at a time, interspersed by periods of rest that haven't yet exceeded two hours, it's long periods of time. The doctor had joked that the Commander had obviously taken a sexual interest in him, which he unfortunately could not reciprocate given his disdain for alcohol and mood music. Grunt and Zaeed had found that hilarious, and even Jacob had cracked a rare smile.

Garrus, however, is not so amused, in no small part due to the fact that he knows that Mordin's been continuously operating on her, with Miranda's assistance. He knows this because the latter of the two scientists told him, when questioned. Though, the exact wording she'd used had been “improved upon”.

“I laid the foundational work,” she tells him tiredly in the wake of a particularly long surgical procedure, the third in a week, “But Dr. Solus seems to have grasped the idea behind the Lazarus Project in ways that most of my staff couldn't fathom. Honestly, it's a shame we couldn't have brought him on from the project's inception.”

“Shepard's alive,” the Turian growls in reply, “The project is done with.”

“On the contrary, the project was never finished. Cerberus never meant to just revivify Shepard; we meant to make her invincible. Now if there's nothing else?”

“ 'Nothing else'? There's plenty else! You and Mordin need to stop cutting her up like she's a damn science fair display!”

Despite Garrus standing a foot taller than her, fanged and scarred, Miranda is unfazed by his aggression. It only takes a gentle twitch of her fingers to send him careening out of her quarters, buoyed up by a multitude of mass effect fields. The door locks behind him, before the speakers crackle to life.

“If you have objections, Officer Vakarian,” her filtered voice informs him, “Then you are more than welcome to take them up with the Illusive Man, or better yet: Shepard herself. She's undergoing them all voluntarily.”

To be fair, basic operational implants are standard issue for most military organizations throughout the Milky Way. Garrus himself has a neural mod for AR visuals, tagging enemy combatants or directing him to the next objective. But Shepard? At this point, the Turian suspects she's more metal than meat. Bone reinforcements, a synthetic muscle weave, epidermal medi-gel dispeners, the list of augmentations goes on. She can see in the dark, glow in the dark, the scarring from the Lazarus project shining a luminous orange. On Tuchanka the irradiated atmosphere burns his tongue and throat, Grunt gagging as he sets foot on his homeworld, but Shepard doesn't even sniff, as toxicity filters lining her lungs kick into high gear.

They clash with Eclipse mercenaries on Illium, trying to rescue Miranda's sister. At one point, Mordin and Kasumi are pinned down behind cover. The plan is simple: Garrus and Zaeed will lay down covering fire and Shepard will flank the emplacement. The first part of the plan goes well, and one of the mercs drops when the Commander's shotgun puts a hole through him. The other one is from Palaven, though, and familiar with Turian bait-and-switch ops. He goes for his sidearm and fires off two rounds. The first takes down Shepard's shields, the second one hits her in the cheek and her head snaps back.

There's a long, terrible, strangely quiet moment where Garrus is trying to wrap his head around the fact that it's over, they failed, Shepard is dead again, before she pulls herself upright, eyes burning red, blood waterfalling over bared teeth from the gash in her cheek, and grabs her enemy's hand in her own. There's a sickening crack, and as much as Garrus wants to think that it's the pistol that's falling in twisted pieces to the ground, the other Turian's screams inform him otherwise. He stops when the Commander's fist impacts his helmet, crushing his visor. And his skull. Despite being covered in gore, her wound's stopped bleeding by the time the rest of the squad can meet her, cheeks flush with the effulgence of working medi-gel. A few of them, Garrus included, think they should withdraw, considering Shepard just took a bullet in the head. But Miranda pushes past, uncharacteristic worry coloring her face, and Mordin resolves to check the microfibers once they're back aboard the Normandy.

Joker thinks it's cool. Garrus just thinks of Saren, the plating on his face cracked and threaded with alien lights. Tali is concerned, and with good reason. By the time she joins the mission, glitches have begun to present themselves.

In a firefight with the Blue Suns, one of their Combat Engineers deploys an EMP. EDI falls to silence Garrus's HUD winks out of existence, the comms going with it. But Shepard locks up, drops to the ground, eyes unfocused, jaw slack, like a puppet whose strings have been cut. Garrus is the first one to reach her, alarm's sounding in his head as it becomes clear she's not breathing. A moment later his AR feed reboots, and Shepard sucks in a great lungful of air. That one she actually needs a moment to recover from. Only a moment, though, in spite of what Garrus says. She insists she's fine, and offers a hand to get him upright. They are still in combat, after all. The Turian has trouble remembering that; he's still caught on that split second between his HUD restarting and her breathing again, when her biometric feed reported that her heart had stopped.

Later, EDI connects to Sehpard's augmentations' systems to run a diagnostic, reporting the Commander is, from a strictly medical standpoint, fine. The shit-eating grin she gives her long-time Turian comrade is palpable in the air. But then EDI disconnects and Shepard goes fully blind, until they hook the pair of them back up again.

A new surgery is scheduled to correct the problem, Tali to consult on the code language that was used to write the software for Shepard's prostheses, and finally enough is enough.

Not for Garrus, mind you; he's never once been able to convince Shepard of anything, least of all that she's pushing herself too hard. But Thane has a softer touch.

“It's like when your computer has a bug!” she insists, as the Drell bars the way into Mordin's lab, “You don't toss it in the trash, you fix the problem!”

“But that's where you are failing yourself,” he replies, “You aren't fixing the problem, you're postponing it with more and more extensive augmentations. Siha, you must let yourself heal.”

“Thane. There is no time for me to lay around taking antibiotics. I need to be- EDI. EDI, SHUT UP!”

She hears EDI through the comms, even when the AI isn't broadcasting.

“Siha… Shepard,” Thane insists, “You are pushing yourself beyond what your species is capable of.”

“Isn't that the point of scientific discovery?” sniffs Miranda.

“This doesn't concern you!” snaps Garrus.

“And it does you, Vakarian? Limits are excuses that fearful people invent. Shepard is beyond that kind of thinking.”

“This isn't a fitness goal, Lawson,” cuts in Tali, “You're talking about increasingly invasive surgeries to replace failing tissue with synthetic material!”

“Tali,” groans Shepard, “you're supposed to be on my side here.”

“I'm only here to make sure none of the software has a chance of shorting out your brain. I'm not going to pretend this is a good idea.”

“Two weeks ago, I took a bullet to the head and walked away with a scrape! How is that a bad thing?”

“Because it's what the Reapers are doing, Shepard. Remember Saren?”

“I. Am not. Saren. You all need to stop comparing me to that psychopath. I'm trying to save lives!”

“There are worse fates than death, Elaine,” Thane continues, “I worry for you. You don't sleep. You barely eat. Shepard, no matter how hard you push yourself, you are only human-”

“I'M NOT ALLOWED TO BE 'ONLY HUMAN'!”

Is it the increased capacity of her lungs or just her own fervor that allows for such volume. Garrus doesn't know enough about the sciences behind her augmentations to say for certain. But Shepard's roar is enough to shake the bulkhead. Silence falls in the wake of her fury, broken only by her panting.

“Every time I try to put up my feet,” she seethes, “Or catch my breath, there's an alarm that starts blaring, somewhere. The entire galaxy is catching fire, and you all want me to pretend it isn't happening. I don't get to do that! I'm 'Commander Shepard, best hope for the galaxy, lookie here, it's my favorite store on the Citadel, aren't I great?'. I was dead! It was your turn to pick up the slack and look after space, and look how that turned out! The council buried its head in the sand, Anderson spends more time bitching about this shit than actually trying to clean it up, and half the outposts in the Terminus Systems got abducted while you were out pretending to be heroes! Hell, even Cerberus doesn't want to deal with this, otherwise they would have sent an army on this wild goose chase, instead of sinking a fleet's worth of credits into bringing me back! SHUT THE FUCK UP, LAWSON, DO NOT TRY AND ARGUE WITH ME. Every single one of you would be quaking in their boots, holed up on Omega, or Illium, or wherever you please, if I wasn't here. You all had two years to fix this dumpster fire of a galaxy, and you fucked that up. So don't pretend I'm not the only reason anything gets done around here; I am not going to stop, certainly not so all of you can feel better about yourselves.”

Shepard plants a fist in the wall at the height of this tirade, cracking the panel, her knuckles already knitting shut when she pulls away. Her eyes are collapsing stars, too bright to look directly into, and every one of her crew members averts their eyes, anger and shame and hurt so thick in the air that it carries a scent. And for a moment, Shepard softens. The glow in her eyes, her scars, fade and she watches them with remorse. But it's only a moment.

“If there's nothing else,” she growls, “Then get back to your posts. Boots on the ground in four hours.”

“Shepard, this repair is going to take at least six-” Miranda begins.

“Four. Hours.”

The door locks behind them, and Garrus's stomach sinks as imagines Mordin wheeling out a cart laden with scalpels. He looks at Thane, tries for words, but neither of them can manage anything. Instead, he suits up, and goes to wait out the remaining three and a half hours down in the shuttle. He thinks of a lot of things. His father, never once approving of his insistence that rules and regulations were the only thing standing in the way of true justice. His own band of misfits, dead on the ground of their hideout, in lawless Omega. But mostly, he thinks about Shepard. He thinks about watching her become a shooting star, in the atmosphere of a planet he can't remember the name of. He remembers watching her die, and wonders if she really came back.

Then he touches his scars, thinking about Omega again. He thinks about needing to be rescued. He thinks about bleeding out in the second story of a slumhouse, and how it was Shepard, full of fire and metal that came to his rescue. And he wonders.

Oh, how he wonders.

[naernon]

OC Questionnaire - Estryon Thramian

Found this in my drafts, and decided to finish off what I had to distract from the tediousness of trying to decide what to do with the aspect of his backstory mentioned earlier. I filled this out according to how he was at the very start/before the events of Skyrim, unless stated to be what happens later on.

Feel free to use this for your own OCs, I don’t mind.

TW; Mentions of pregnancy (of a trans man). Also, some NSFW implications.

GENERAL

Name: Estryon Thramian

Alias(es): Estre is a little nickname Ondolemar took to using later on. Arelnian, the parent who carried him and the only one he met (they died when he was two, his father died prior to his birth), also called him this. It is also his birth-name. Perhaps a bit of projection on my part. I don’t mind my birth-name. (altho it could just be because if i do mind it, i’m in for bad time from it)

Gender: Male.

Age: 25 years old.

Place of birth: Sunhold, Summerset Isle.  Or rather, Alinor. Morning Star 19th, 4E 176 (The Ritual)

Spoken languages: Tamrielic and Altmeri. Unsure exactly how native languages vs the common tongue works in TES, but I’ll just assume/HC it’s either like Latin (commonly taught but not used in every-day conversation) or just very secondary compared to Tamrielic. So that’s the status on his knowledge of Altmeri. Also had a minor interest in Ayleidoon when he was younger, so he knows some basic vocab, but not too much. Like you know how some people go through HS and take the entirety of Spanish/German/Whichever for the full four years and as soon as they graduated they forgot all of it? That’s Estryon with Ayleidoon.

Sexual orientation: Gay.

Occupation: Thalmor agent. Mainly used in assassinations and to stoke the conflict in the Skyrim Civil War by framing (in murder, accusations of law-breaking, etc.), propaganda, etc. Prior to that, as I’ve recently elaborated, he was a member of a elite force in Summerset called the Accipiters. They’re, as said, are similar to the First AD’s Eyes of the Queen, except with more brutality and tendency to murder. They are charged with cutting down all heresy and resistance against the Thalmor in the Isles through more silent and undercover tactics. Through whatever course of events I settle with, he is suspended and demoted within the Accipiters and sent to Skyrim to work as, again, a basic Thalmor agent for the time being. It’s not like he’s put into a useless job. Thalmor forces in Skyrim, according to this , are rather stretched thin, and with someone as combat skilled as Estryon, his work is much, much needed. Doesn’t mean he likes it, though. He hates it.

APPEARANCE

Eye color: Vibrant yellow/amber.

Hair color: Pale cream/blonde color.

Height: 6′ to 6′3/4. Haven’t decided.

Scars: Slight slashes/cuts on his right cheek and a scar on his right bicep. Likes to use… risky methods in his assassinations because he’s a dumbass and that has given him a few severely close calls on fatal weak spots; there’s a medium-length scar across his left abdomen, a shallow, light scar on his collarbone (was an attempt at his heart), and a few small ones on his thighs.

Burns: No major ones, but a lot of little burn marks because 1.) He sucks at cooking and 2.) Little mishaps in destruction magic usage.

Overweight: No.

Underweight: No.

FAVOURITE

Color: Yellow.

Hair color: He likes lighter hair colors but it’s not a huge factor.

Eye color: Yellow, but as said, not too much of a preference.

Entertainment: Horse-back riding. Causing general issues and difficulty for those around him. Taking care of horses. This man really likes horses. He also has a fondness for burning different stuff he finds, some of that stuff being important shit to someone other than him. There’s one major entertainment he commits to a lot but I’ll leave that unmentioned for modesty’s sake.

Pastime: This dude really does not do a lot to entertain himself other than [censored]. He spends a lot of time meandering and wandering and just.. being there. Either that or he rapidly switches between different pastimes because he can’t stay with one for the life of him. (he gets bored very, very easily) But. If anything, as said, he likes to experiment with magic and alchemy, and he loves horseback-riding and taking pleasure rides. This easy tendency towards boredom leads to recklessness and an unhealthy lust for thrill and adventure.

Food: As typical of Sunhold natives, he gravitates towards sea-food and he likes crab. Not typical mudcrabs from just anywhere, however. As is common knowledge, there are a lot of different varieties of Mudcrabs and there’s one particular off the coast of Sunhold that is high-demand and very flavorful. But other than that, he has a guilty sweet tooth in general, and he B U S  T S  A  N U T for vanilla ice cream.

Drink: He’s boring. He just likes water. He enjoys some lighter alcohol, though,  and perhaps some tea, but again. Water.

Books: Enjoys magic studies and books. Doesn’t like a lot of heavy-information stuff other than that, though, but he does like a bunch of light interests like aromatics and alchemy. He has Arelnian and their large array of aromatic/alchemy books + store to thank for those two interests.

HAVE THEY

Passed university: Yes.

Had sex: Pft. Yeah.

Had sex in public: Depends. Like, straight up banging in like, a marketplace? Nah.

Gotten pregnant: No. Not during the events of Skyrim, at least. Not until much later.

Kissed a man: Yes.

Kissed a woman: Yes, once or twice.

Gotten tattoos: Yes. Little ones. He has an eagle wing on each side of each of his ankles, and the Dominion emblem on the back of his neck. All hurt like Hell (especially the Dominion emblem one) and he’s kind of halted off of getting any after that.

Gotten piercings: Ear piercings, yeah. He typically likes small gold hoops or little jewels, but he tends to go through long periods of time where he doesn’t have any in.

Been in love: Yes.

Had a broken heart: Oof. Yeah.

Stayed up for more than 24 hours: Yes. He oftentimes has trouble sleeping. Has been that way since he was little, according to Ohtehil, at least.

ARE THEY

A virgin: Pft. No.

A cuddler: Not really, but, I mean. He’s not beyond it. He’s just not a very personal person in general.

A kisser: Yes.

A smoker: Not frequently, no.

Scared easily: Not typically, and even if he is, he takes care to not show it. He might flinch and recoil and you can get a little bit of a gasp from him but other than that, no. Unless it’s something incredibly outlandish or unnatural or… terrifying. Like a dragon. A large, ebony black dragon with red eyes flying from the mountains and passing over you, rumbling the ground and triggering all your fight or flight instincts. Yeah. Kinda scary. (but even then all he did was dive out of sight and hide underneath a little rock overhang. he may have taken a bit of a tumble in the process but i’ll have you know his cold altmeri exterior ™ was still in-tact)

Jealous easily: Gods, yes. He wouldn’t let that be known, however.

Trustworthy: Absolutely Not

Dominant: In terms of personality, yeah. He hates being told what to do, he thrives on spiting others, and while he is quite reserved and quiet he still manages to be…. over-bearing and dominant. He has three very particular methods of getting what he wants and one of them is a glare that could kill and keeping all words to the minimum, while also having those words cut sharp. Does that make sense? He’s one of those people that just have an overpowering presence without the need to speak. That’s one reason he doesn’t have a lot of friends, really. Anyways. One other method is straight-up killing whoever he wishes to and the other… Well. If you’re talking dominance in bed, he adapts to what is needed, wanted, or what he’s in the mood for. Whatever leaves his target vulnerable to a swift kill, framing, or easy investigation of possible heresy/conspiracy. So yes, actually, I guess he is dominant. Quite so.

Submissive: In any other context other than the Spicee (tm) one, no, not really. If in that context, then, only if he wishes to be.

Single: Yes, no committal relationship until later. Although, there was one earlier, but I haven’t developed it completely. I’ll give a little peek. It was with Thalmor Agent Sanyon. That dead Thalmor, at a Talos shrine? Yeah. High-school sweethearts, if you will. Estryon finding Sanyon’s body at the shrine, or rather, going there at all ultimately sets the course of the events of the main questline. That little event, along with Ohtehil’s little ‘turn-into-a-werewolf-and-slaughter-all-your-colleagues’ theatrical go hand-in-hand in starting it all. Estryon finding Sanyon dead would not have happened at all if not for Ohtehil, actually.

RANDOM QUESTIONS

Have they harmed themselves: Minor things.

Thought of suicide: Yes.

Attempted suicide: No.

Wanted to kill someone: Yes.

Actually killed someone: Yes.

Ridden a horse: Yes. He’s quite the horseman.

Have/had a job: Yes.

Have any fears: He isn’t too fond of heights. Or blood.

FAMILY

Sibling(s): Ohtehil (22 years older) and Tretlas (55 years older).

Parents: Arelnian and Ciryarel Thramian. Both fought in the Great War/First War of the Empire on the Dominion’s side. Ciryarel was a skilled mage who worked rather high up in the Dominion and Arelnian was also well-respected as an informant and recruiter stationed primarily in Hammerfell. Ciryarel perished in the final battle and Arelnian received significant injury. Survived two years post-War, but a highly weakened immune system as a result of the injuries ultimately cost them their life.

Children: No. Later, however, he does adopt Lucia and Sofie and does have Diatres, his only biological child.

Pets: Cyrel, a smokey black and sleek Summerset-bred mare. Had her imported upon the discovery he would be suspended in Skyrim for longer than anticipated. Prior to that, she was being boarded for a rather expensive price over at the Sunhold stables. And then Umaril, a “Pocket” Salamander. Ohtehil got it for him for his 9th birthday not anticipating a long lifespan nor the HUGE size they grow to be. Once it started growing alarmingly fast and large Ohtehil figured as long as Estryon was enjoying himself it would be fine; once he grew older he could get rid of it if he tired of taking care of such a massive and intelligent creature. Estryon did not get rid of it. Quite the opposite. He’s the dude to have a suspiciously large bag being lugged around and you see him stop once he’s in the clear, unzip it, and suddenly his dog or in this case a very large monitor pokes his head out. His commitment to Umaril and Cyrel is incredible compared to his dedication towards actual people.

[jacscorner]

You've been quiet with art lately, Corner. What's been up? What's Nic up to??

Art wise, haven’t really been drawing anything I’d wanna put here on Tumblr. A lot of concept art and, well, ahem, stuff that while I’m not exactly ashamed of, are of a nature that probably wouldn’t thrive here on Tumblr. Not that I haven’t put NSFW stuff here before, just that it’d be a pain if someone stumbled upon my corner and shut it down. :V An artist I admire got his blog taken down for similar, albeit higher quality stuff, so I’ve been hesitant. Meanwhile, everything else has just been just doodles or just stuff I don’t think is really worth putting here, mostly because of the effort I’d have to put in to posting it elsewhere beyond my dA, which at this point is just a dumping ground for most of my stuff.

But, I guess if you stretch the definition of ‘art’, I’ve been trying to write more regularly. I don’t have anything to post here, mostly cause my number 01 project in the works now is something I want to finish and when I write stuff in the hopes of it being viewed, it’s a crapshoot as to whether or not I feel confident enough to finish it. You could grovel at my feet and tell me I’m writing something that rivals literary masters and I’d still go ‘eh, I don’t know, I think that-’ and I’d just talk myself down. Though I do wanna write stuff that’s leisure for the sake of leisure. Maybe I’ll actually write that FusionFall fanfic I outlined back in January.

Yeah right. Like that’ll happen. 

As for Nic, I just haven’t been in the mood to keep playing Animal Crossing. It just feels so repetitive and it started to feel like a chore. Which is a shame, cause I could see myself putting in the horror or two a day to play this game if I had, like, a normal DS or something. But I’m a pirate, sadly, and my DS emulator crashes every now and again cause I’m on a crappy Chromebook using an emulator from the google play store and it crashes for reasons I can’t decipher and don’t know if it’s a software problem or a hardware one. Maybe someday I’ll get a Switch to play New Horizons so Nic can have some island fun. He could use a vacation from all of his space adventures. ;P

Don’t worry, it’ll make sense someday. Maybe. Hopefully.

Aside from that, I’m dying. I’m sweating like a...well, pig. :V I hate Summer. Ever since I left Highschool, I just had no reason to like the warmer seasons. I’m more of a Winter guy. And it really sucks to be locked inside, doing my college class while the sun is just beating down on top of me like I owe him money. I just want these 90 degree weeks to end. 

[theartofbeinganerd]

So...I’d wanted to try and get the next prompt on my to-do list written for tonight, but I’d been out all day and didn’t get home until after midnight, so I figured I’d offer up another of my previously written one shots instead. I hope it’s a good enough trade-off, and I’ll try to get back to answering prompts tomorrow!

This is set in a non-SHIELD AU, and yes, I do intend for there to be more parts to this AU - there’s already one finished and another started. Hope you enjoy!

(Ao3)

-

“So you’re sure you can’t make it?” The pout was clear in Daisy’s voice, even coming from the tinny speakers of Jemma’s phone, where it was resting on her desk a few feet away.

“I’m sorry, Daisy, but I’m positive. This project is too important, not to mention time-sensitive. If I didn’t skip tonight, I’d have to miss tomorrow’s rehearsal dinner, and I think that’s a bit more important.” It was as much as she’d already explained to Daisy, but it hadn’t put a stop to the nearly endless pleading.

“But come on Jemma! How often do you get a chance to go out, get drunk, and do something stupid? Plus, Hunter’s for sure gonna make a fool of himself, and that’s not something you want to miss.”

Jemma sighed heavily, lifting her head away from her microscope in order to close her tired eyes and rest her forehead in one of her palms. “Daisy, I’m sorry, but I really can’t come tonight. But the best man and I have arranged everything, and I promise you it’ll be a night to remember. Or…not, as it were.”

When Jemma’s old university roommate and close friend, Bobbi Morse, had suddenly announced months ago that she was engaged to her on-again off-again boyfriend Lance Hunter, Jemma had been leery from the start. After all, the two had never been what one would call a “stable couple”, but when Bobbi had asked her to be maid of honor, she had accepted and promised herself to support her friend no matter what.

Unfortunately, the lead-up to the wedding had happened to coincide with a hugely important project in the lab where she worked, and the combined stress of the two had had her nearly dead on her feet for weeks now. Thankfully, the project would be finished come morning, just in time for her to focus her attention on the rehearsal dinner and the wedding itself the following day.

Daisy, however, seemed to think it was more important that Jemma drop everything to attend Bobbi and Hunter’s combined bachelor/bachelorette party that night (planned as such because, as Bobbi so bluntly put it, Hunter was not to be trusted unsupervised with alcohol in the mix).

“How did you manage that?” Daisy asked incredulously. “I thought you’d never met before.”

“We haven’t,” Jemma answered tiredly, rubbing her aching eyes with her thumb and forefinger. “We’ve been emailing.” Finally having had enough, she lifted her head and picked up her phone, switching off the speakerphone and holding it up to her ear. “Daisy, the longer you waste my time unsuccessfully trying to convince me to leave my work for the night, the longer it’s going to take me to finish said work. I promise you, as soon I no longer have to worry about this project or the wedding, I will get blindingly drunk with you and make up for tonight. Are we clear?”

Daisy gave an exaggerated sigh, but her tone was contradictorily bright as she replied, “As crystal, Jem. I’m holding you to that, believe me. Alright, I’ve gotta go get dressed for some clubbing, so I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’ll be the one with the coffee and aspirin.”

“What would we do without you?”

“Suffer terrible hangovers,” Jemma answered simply. “Remember to drink lots of water, stay safe, and have fun. Oh, and make sure Bobbi does as well – and that Hunter doesn’t have too much.”

“I think that’s the best man’s job, but I’ll do my best to help. Love ya, Jem!”

As the call disconnected, Jemma shook her head with a fond sigh and dove back into her work, determined to have it finished before the sun rose the next morning – when she’d have to go straight into wedding madness.

She really was going to have to let Daisy take her drinking after all of this, or else she was afraid she’d forget what the word ‘fun’ meant.

-

Two days later, Jemma no longer had work hanging over her, but she was no less stressed for it. The wedding was due to start in an hour, and she’d seen neither hide nor hair of the mysterious best man, who had also been absent for the rehearsal dinner the previous night (and had apparently ditched out early on the bachelor party, according to Daisy). Hunter had assured her that he’d make it today, but as the time ticked away, Jemma was growing less and less sure that she could trust Hunter’s word.

Of course, she’d been careful to keep any mention of the issue from Bobbi, but as she was getting dressed in the deep blue bridesmaid dress Bobbi had picked for her and Daisy, she couldn’t help her wandering thoughts. What the hell were they supposed to do if the best man was a no show? Did he have the rings? Would the entire wedding come to a halt if there were no rings?

She was startled out of her thoughts when there was a sharp rap on the door of the bathroom she’d disappeared to so that Bobbi wouldn’t catch wind of her mini-panic attack. It was closely followed by an unsure voice calling, “Uh…Jemma? It’s me, Fitz. The, um…the best man?”

Breathing out sharply in something between relief and irritation, Jemma stomped over and flung the door open to find a wide-eyed man on the other side, holding up his hands as though he was warding off a wild animal. He was a little taller than her with close-cropped curls and a stubbly little beard, as well as a very nice pair of blue eyes and an even nicer tux closely-cut to his body.

The man, Fitz, opened his mouth, no doubt about to spew some bullshit excuse for his lateness, but she was having none of that.

“It’s about damn time,” she hissed, leaning forward to peer over his shoulder into the thankfully empty hallway before yanking him into the bathroom with her. He yelped in surprise, but she ignored it. “I don’t care where you were or what you were doing, all I care about is making sure today goes off without a hitch, because Bobbi deserves it, alright?”

Fitz blinked a couple times, gaping at her in complete disbelief. But, when she narrowed her eyes in a fierce glare, he gulped audibly and nodded in understanding.

“Good. Now, do you have the rings? Hunter’s vows?”

Fitz quickly emptied out his pockets, and after unearthing a cell phone, a half-empty pack of gum, and a set of keys, he finally set the velvet ring box and folded slip of paper down on the counter between them. When he continued patting his pockets, however, Jemma glanced at him in question. “Oh, uh, I guess I forgot my wallet,” he explained sheepishly, hurriedly shoving the items back into his pockets. As he was doing so, he shot her a quick glance out of the corner of his eye and cleared his throat, then asked awkwardly, “Did you…um…need help with your zipper, or…?”

“What?” Confused, Jemma glanced down at herself, and gasped sharply when she realized that he’d knocked on the door when she’d been in process of doing up the zipper on the back of her dress. Without her notice, the front had begun to sag, exposing far more of her breasts and her strapless lacy black bra than it should. “Shit!” Tugging the neckline back into its proper place, Jemma felt her cheeks beginning to burn with a rather intense blush and she spun away from Fitz to hide her embarrassment. “Just…just go, alright? I’ve got it, don’t worry.”

Fitz seemed to hesitate, but then she heard his footsteps heading toward the door, followed by the sound of it opening and closing. When she was finally alone, Jemma leaned heavily against the wall and groaned pitifully.

This wedding couldn’t be over soon enough.

-

Bobbi and Hunter had finally said ‘I do’, the whole ceremony had gone perfectly to plan (aside from Hunter’s eye-roll-worthy vows, which included ill-humored jokes and reminders of how attractive he found his new bride), and all that was left to survive was the reception before she could finally relax for the first time in months.

“Or,” Daisy offered pointedly when Jemma had said as much to her, “you could relax now. C’mon, the reception is really just one big party, and you did promise to get drunk with me.”

“I promised to get drunk with you after the wedding was over, actually,” Jemma corrected, idly twisting the stem of her glass of barely-touched champagne between her fingers.

“Technically, the wedding is over.” When Jemma’s only answer was a glare, Daisy groaned in defeat. “Okay, fine, whatever. But, you have to have at least one drink stronger than champagne, alright? You need to unwind, Jem.”

Jemma mulled over the potential compromise, but could see nothing wrong with it, so she nodded in acceptance. “Alright, that sounds reasonable. I’ll be right back, then.”

She left a grinning Daisy behind at their table as she headed over to the open bar, leaning her elbows on the counter as she waited for the bartender to finish with the small group of people at the other end of the bar. The laminated list of the wedding’s specialty drinks (that she’d put together, of course) was set up just to her right, and she rolled her eyes as she remembered how sick they’d all been the morning after trying drink combination after drink combination to find the perfect ones.

Then she caught sight of someone hunched over on a bar stool just beyond the list, and a frown tugged at her lips as she noticed a rather unhappy-looking Fitz downing a drink that had him wincing. Confused and more than a little irritated at the sight (he was due to give a speech at some point tonight, after all), Jemma abandoned her spot and strode over. “What’s your problem, then? Didn’t get drunk enough Friday night?”

Fitz was clearly startled by her abrupt appearance, but it wasn’t long before his miserable expression set back in. “M’not in the mood. Just wanna forget for a bit.”

“Forget what? Your responsibilities as a best man? To not even show up to the rehearsal dinner, then to nearly be late for the wedding itself wasn’t enough?” She knew she was being a bit harsh, but if he was Hunter’s friend, then he likely just needed a firm hand to keep him in line as well.

Fitz didn’t seem to appreciate her efforts, though, and he threw a frosty glare in her direction as he snapped, “Look, I’m trying my best, okay? Give me a break, my bloody grandmother died, I quite literally just went to her funeral, and I just need a few goddamn minutes. Is that alright with you?”

“Oh my god.” Jemma slapped both hands over her mouth to try and stifle her gasp, her wide eyes almost immediately beginning to burn with tears. “Oh Fitz, I…I’m so sorry, I had no idea. Truly, I would never have… I’m so sorry.”

Fitz sighed heavily, his shoulders rising and falling with it, then he gave her a weak smile and shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sorry for snapping.” He nodded to the empty stool beside him and offered hopefully, “If you promise not to cry and make me feel even worse, I’ll buy you a drink.”

“It’s…it’s an open bar,” Jemma pointed out, blinking back the tears before they ruined her makeup.

He made a face, then rolled his eyes. “Okay, whatever, it’s a figure of speech. D’you wanna get drunk with me?”

She chewed her lip as she thought it over, but she’d just come off of a time-consuming work project, helping to plan a wedding, and now insulting a man who had just lost his grandmother. She figured she’d be doing them all a favor by taking the edge off just a bit.

With that in mind, she climbed onto the stool beside him and met his little smile with one of her own. “You’re on, Fitz.”

What was not helpful to any one at all, ever, though, was how Jemma woke up the next morning – stark naked in what had to be a hotel room, draped across Fitz’s bare chest, her head pounding and her mouth tasting vaguely of bile.

Well, at least he must’ve forgiven her for being so rude at the wedding, then.

-

Things had gone back to normal after that, when the wedding was finally off of her shoulders and Hunter and Bobbi had been seen safely off to their honeymoon. However, the calm didn’t last for very long, as it was a mere month and a half later that Jemma found herself sitting on the edge of the bathtub in Daisy’s apartment, absently toying with a skinny stick of plastic.

She’d spent the past week having terrible bouts of nausea that hadn’t turned into the flu as she’d expected, and instead had come accompanied with an increasingly sensitive bladder and all-but crippling exhaustion. Jemma was far from brainless, and she’d immediately purchased a handful of tests and appeared at her best friend’s doorstep far earlier in the morning than she would have under normal circumstances.

Daisy’s crankiness had only lasted for mere moments once she’d caught a glimpse of the panic Jemma was trying so desperately to hide. Now, even though she was still in her pajamas, she was perched on the edge of the tub beside Jemma, clearly still in shock, but completely supportive.

“So, you banged the best man,” she stated, shaking her head slowly. “Whoa. Talk about cliché, Jem.”

Jemma groaned, dropping her head to rest in one of her hands. “Daisy, you’re not helping.”

“Sorry, sorry. Just still totally shocked. I mean, you never said anything. Like, I saw you guys cozying up together and I guess I should’ve seen it coming from how carefree you seemed to be that night, but…wow.” She paused, then turned to Jemma, her brow furrowed curiously. “Was he any good?”

“Daisy!”

“What?!”

“Please, can we focus here?”

“Fine, fine.” She pursed her lips thoughtfully, then asked gently, “Have you seen him since the wedding?”

Jemma shook her head miserably. “After Bobbi and Hunter got back from their honeymoon, they invited us both over for dinner to thank us, but I backed out at the last moment because I was too embarrassed to see him again.”

Daisy gave her a sympathetic smile, reaching out to gently squeeze her hand. “Looks like you’re gonna have to, Jem.”

With that, she pointedly tapped the positive pregnancy test Jemma was still fidgeting nervously with, identical to the other positive tests spread out on the bathroom counter across from them.

[hetmusic]

TMR TALKS TO... BALTHAZAR | The Most Radicalist

In this interview feature, we get to know the most radicalist up and coming stars on the planet.       This time we speak with Belgian indie pop-rock band Balthazar. In their home country of Belgium, Balthazar sell out arena stadiums. The two songwriters at the heart of the band, Maarten Devoldere and Jinte Deprez have also become well-known through their solo projects, Warhaus and J. Bernardt, respectively. It’s no wonder that after three albums, countless live shows and successful side projects that Balthazar took a breather following their third album release Thin Walls in 2015. However, the dynamic songwriting duo of Devoldere and Deprez couldn’t keep apart forever, and heading back into the studio around a year ago, the result turned into another epic album, their fourth studio record to date. Fever has been a highly-anticipated record here at TMR, with album tracks ‘Fever’, ‘Entertainment’, ‘I’m Never Gonna Let You Down Again’ and 'Wrong Vibration' all making an appearance as surefire List Picks. Since they’ve been a recurrent favourite we couldn’t miss the opportunity to talk to Balthazar’s two key members about the new album, matters of the heart, songwriting, the importance of imagery, how songs evolve through live shows and more. Here’s our interview, originally recorded backstage ahead of Balthazar’s show at Manchester’s Deaf Institute.

TMR: Fever is your fourth album, following 2015’s Thin Walls, why was this record worth taking your time over? Jinte Deprez: We were touring from twenty-nine/ten to twenty-sixteen, so by the end of the campaign we always felt like we were touring and making albums, so we wanted to take a little break, which we did. Then we released some solo albums, which were received quite well. Yeah, the break was a little bit longer than we planned, but we got back together to write for this album a year ago, so yeah, it went quickly. TMR: Oh, so really it hasn’t taken that long to get the album together. One of the biggest themes on the album is the highs and lows of love; sometimes in your songs, the character is a heartbreaker and other times they’re heartbroken. Was this theme a purposeful choice or a product of the time you were both in? Maarten Devoldere: Well, actually I think we tend to write close to our beds, so we’ve always written love songs. It’s just the most logical theme, it fits really well in a pop song. We aren’t very politically engaged to write about that for example. JD: We are songwriters so it’s always like if one of us is heartbroken, the other one is in a totally different vibe. That way we end up with these different songs on the album. Different emotions. TMR: Would you say there are any underlying themes that would surprise a listener? For example with ‘Fever’ it's quite easy to access those feelings of love or heartbreak, but is there something beyond that? MD: Yeah, that comes across as a love song, but it’s actually more of a dialogue itself. I think because pop music has been used so much to sing about a girl or towards a girl… So we have a tradition in songwriting that if you write about addiction, for example, then maybe you’re going to dress that addiction up as a girl as well. JD: On this album it seems like we don’t make much sense or make any points, because on ‘Fever’ we sound quite harsh towards a girl, but at the same time we’re saying that we’re falling for her. I think that’s something we do a lot on this record. On the other hand, there are some songs that are really just emotion. We wrote three break-up songs, but there’s a pissed off one and a cool one. MD: Yeah, different phases. JD: Whereas in the past we tried to write about the whole relationship in one song, but we stopped doing that. TMR: Since we’re talking about the title-track ‘Fever’, there are visuals for that song as well which are quite obscure, featuring deserts, roads and mountains. How does the imagery tie in with the song? JD: When we were finishing the record, we really had to rush to meet the deadline towards the end, and then we really wanted to go on holiday. Our manager said “no you can’t go on holiday yet, because first we need the video for ‘Fever’.” And so we said, “okay, what’s the budget?” So then we went to Lanzarote on holiday and filmed there. I know it sounds super random, but I guess the vibe and the weather matched this record for us. It’s a summer record. MD: We thought of it as, like, the opening trailer of a movie, and then the album is a movie. It was mainly because we wanted to go to a sunny place. You don’t need deep reasons or to be too profound sometimes. TMR: Yeah, that makes sense, it is very cinematic and the setting definitely helps. Speaking more on visuals, why did you choose painted dogs for the album cover? JD: We were renting this house, because we were touring with our solo projects at the time, and it’s actually a pretty stupid story, but there was a National Geographic magazine which we were flipping through and then we saw that picture. It’s kind of funny, because it’s very direct and they look like a band, you know there’s a singer, and there’s a drummer looking at you. We like the picture and the colourfulness of it. With our past albums, the cover was always a bit melancholic and darker. They also work like a wolf pack, and when we’re not doing our other projects and we come back, there’s this collectiveness that we wanted to embrace. It was the first picture we had for the album, and we have a lot of photographer friends with artistic pictures, but we thought it was more funny to get a picture from a magazine. TMR: We had no idea it was from a magazine, to be honest we thought it may have been something to do with the fact that painted dogs are a matriarchy, so it’s always a female dog that’s in charge of the rest. Both: Really? JD: The thing is if you chose animals, you get to know them very well through this whole process. Well that’s perfect, yeah. TMR: Maybe there was something subconscious there? MD: That’s how music works. TMR: Switching over to the video for ‘Entertainment’, which was shot in studio. Does that reflect how Balthazar is as a band? JD: It was mainly because somebody left the band, so it was like a new collective. MD: Yeah, because the new guy was on holiday for like six months, so we flew him over, and that day when we shot the video was the first day that we were all together. We asked him to come play, he didn’t play on the record, or audition, or anything like that - it was an educated guess. That day we were play-backing the song for the video shoot and we actually had so much fun and we thought, if we have this much fun while play-backing, then it’s going to really cool if we play it live. JD: It was a little bit to emphasize the fact that we want to play live as a band. TMR: ‘Entertainment’ is quite an upbeat song as well. MD: Yeah, we wrote it at the end of the recording process, and for us, we felt like it was the jammy song that we needed, so we were really surprised when the label said that it was going to be the first single. It’s good, especially now live, we feel it really connects with the audience. It’s the enthusiasm. JD: Sometimes you work on a song for month, and that was made in a day, so for us it felt quite strange, but looking at it now, it makes sense. TMR: One of our favourite tracks on the album is ‘I’m Never Gonna Let You Down Again’. Do you each have a favourite track of your own? JD: The thing is we always make so many songs, and we pick our favourites to make the album, so in the end, all the songs are kind of our favourites otherwise it wouldn’t be on the album. MD: They kind of need each other in a way. I don’t know, it changes throughout the week, so today, it’s a Friday, so I’m going to go for... ‘Rollercoaster’. JD: For me, it’s the third day of the tour, and you start to feel like the songs are having their afterlife. They start to change in how we play them live, and it’s cool. Songs you wouldn’t expect to become your favourite song live do because they change. ‘Never Gonna Let You Down Again’ is one of the examples - live it’s really cool and I thought it would have been really hard to play live. TMR: It’s also going to depend on the audience and how they interact with the song. JD: Of course. MD: Like yesterday, there was a harmonica player in the audience, so we invited him on stage, and he did a harmonica solo in ‘Wrong Faces’. That was literally how sometimes live performance is created on the spot. But he wasn’t really that good. [all laugh] TMR: And how has the tour been so far? JD: It’s the third day and Maarten’s voice is, like, cracking already [laughs]. MD: It’s good, it’s a new album, so yeah it’s finding a connection with the old songs, planning the set list. We didn’t play together for two or three years, so it’s kind of cool, but it’s also finding your way as a band again. It’s cool to do it here [in the UK] too. Yesterday, in Brighton, it was a really intimate show, which is cool and really works for us. We’ve played here [The Deaf Institute, Manchester] before as well. Last time I fought with my manager, but he won the fight… I was really drunk, so yeah. JD: [Laughing] was that also the third day of the tour? MD: Yeah, probably. TMR: When you’re on tour, do you have a tour playlist? With songs to get you in the mood for playing live? MD: No, but yesterday, we had our support Faces On TV, who is also the producer of the record. It was the first time we could see him play live, it’s really cool, he’s all alone, but he’s this sound wizard on stage, doing way too many things on stage at the same time. It was really energetic, the perfect warm-up to our show. We also have to step up our game to make it work. JD: Yeah exactly, also our tour manager is like the DJ and he always has music you’ve never heard of. Today I discovered Onra. It’s always great to have a DJ as a tour manager. TMR: After here, where are you playing next? JD: After here, we’re going to Dublin which is cool because it’s been a while since we’ve been to Dublin. It’s cool that they haven’t forgotten us, so I’m really looking forward to that. After that, we’re going to London, to Scala, which is a beautiful venue. TMR: Are you going to be playing your home towns as well? MD: Oh yeah, we’re on tour for a month now. TMR: Do you find the atmosphere is different playing back home? JD: Well, in Belgium, we play an arena show in Antwerp, so that’s completely different from what we’re used to. MD: I’m not so keen on playing arenas, but it’s really cool to have the variation between here with smaller venues and there. TMR: Definitely different challenges in each space. Finally, what’s your plan for the rest of the year? 

JD: I think we’re going to play a lot. We’re going to have the European tour, take a little break, pick up the European tour. Then go to places we haven’t been before, like Mexico, the US and Canada. Then play festivals, do another tour, it’s like… yeah, we released an album, so it’s time to show the baby to the world.

http://www.themostradicalist.com/features/tmr-talks-to-balthazar/

[bltngames]

Gut Check: Sonic Central 2021

When Sega announced Sonic Mania, there was an undeniable electricity. A moment of, "wait, WHAT?!" upon seeing who was working on that game and what it looked like. With the way it builds up and then unveils itself, it was the perfect reveal. I'll admit, as a Sonic fan, it even made me a little misty-eyed. We did it. They did it. I may have my complaints about Sonic Mania now that it's out, but those are weird, personal complaints that I still haven't entirely, accurately unpacked. If someone told me Sonic Mania was their favorite Sonic game ever, I would smile and nod, and think, "yeah, it was kind of amazing they pulled that off." And then I'd think of that reveal again, and the impact it had, and how the music swells at just the right points. The hearts of many Sonic fans soared that day.

I cannot say the same for the Sonic Central 2021 announcement stream. And to tell the truth, this isn’t an article I really wanted to write (though some of that is because I had immediate knee-jerk reactions over on my personal blog).

Look, I get it. There was a pandemic last year. It's still a pandemic right now, actually. Things were weird and will continue to be weird for at least another year, possibly even two or three, as the effects of covid on the work place environment continue to ripple outwards. But the thing is, this isn't my first rodeo, and it's not Sega's first time botching something like this. Five years ago, it was Sonic's 25th anniversary (the fun number everyone treats as a real serious milestone) and while that live event was where the magical Sonic Mania reveal took place, there’s plenty of clips of how awkward and bizarre the rest of that event was. Some of the misplaced hype for this 30th Anniversary can be blamed on a hungry fandom who was getting punchy without any news, but this is also the company that gave us Sonic 2006 as part of Sonic’s 15th anniversary celebration, you know? There’s almost a precedent being set here, where Sega talks a big game only to trip and spill their chili all over the carpet.

So what do we have, then? Beyond the brilliantly deranged idea of putting Mascot Suit Sonic in to several games and hiding a port of Sonic the Fighters inside of a different, $70 game, Sonic Central really revolved around three major announcements: Sonic Colors Ultimate Edition, Sonic Origins Collection, and a mysterious teaser that almost instantly stopped being mysterious once it was discovered how little Sega did to protect its secret.

Sonic Colors Ultimate Edition was definitely one of Sega’s worse kept secrets. It had leaked from multiple sources weeks ahead of the announcement, and managed to make a pretty underwhelming display on stream. The issue was something common with remasters of this type -- it’s something I guess we could call “The George Lucas Effect,” where needlessly twiddling with an already-finished product slowly makes it worse. We’ve seen this before -- the lighting in “Batman: Return to Arkham” looks noticeably worse than the original Arkham Asylum trilogy, and “Mass Effect Legendary Edition” boasts improved skin rendering and higher resolution textures that just make those games look more inhuman.

For a big release like this from a major publisher, deadlines must be met, which means there’s little time to delicately repaint textures or make sure lighting looks totally correct. Still, more often than not, preserving the original visual identity of a game is more important than whatever clumsy touch-ups most publishers put these games through. For Colors Ultimate, this manifested in significantly darker lighting and lower quality lightbloom, dramatically impacting the mood of some levels.

In the days since the Sonic Central stream, evidence has mounted that the trailer shown during the stream featured an older build than anticipated. Better looking screenshots of a more recent build surfaced from Famitsu, and a technical artist working on the game revealed short video clips through an ArtStation account that made the game look a bit more accurate to how it originally appeared in 2010 (that Artstation post has now been removed). Though, if we’re being honest, whatever style of lightbloom they’re using still makes the game look pretty washed out. Hopefully that’s still being tweaked.

What’s most curious is how much they’re actually changing about Sonic Colors. The more we learn the less it sounds like a port and more like a complete recoding of the game using Godot, an open source game engine similar to Unity. Promised features include not only enhanced framerates and “improved controls” (whatever that means), but even a rudimentary cosmetics system, with Sonic being able to wear different shoes and gloves. Other additions include the ability to race against Metal Sonic, and a restructured lives system, where Tails rescues you from bottomless pits. It’s a far cry from the days of Taxman and Stealth’s Retro Engine remakes of Sonic 1 and 2 for mobile phones, where it was said that Sega rejected simple bonus features like a boss rush mode because they’d rather “preserve the original experience.” For Sonic Colors Ultimate Edition, it appears they’re going hog wild changing and adding new things.

On the subject of Retro Engine remakes of classic Sonic games, we have the Sonic Origins Collection. It’s not really known if these are the same "Retro Engine" versions made popular on phones and tablets, but they have confirmed that all five games will be in 16:9 wide screen and have additional bonus features. That certainly sounds like Retro Engine to me, but we’ll need to wait and see. The Retro Engine versions had a lot of little nips and tucks that made those games even better than they originally were, so it would be great to have those specific versions on a proper console at long last.

The big shocker here is the inclusion of Sonic the Hedgehog 3. In recent years, Sega has avoided even referencing Sonic 3 in anything -- it was missing in action from the console versions of the Genesis Classics Collection, Sega rejected a Taxman and Stealth Retro Engine remake, it was missing from the Genesis Mini, and Sega even seemed adverse to referencing Sonic 3 in casual conversation. The example I always use is the “Sega Tower Mini”, a fake accessory for the Genesis Mini that included a miniaturized Sega CD, 32X, and a fake cartridge of Sonic & Knuckles. But, instead of locking on to a Sonic 3 cart, the Sega Tower Mini came with a Sonic 1 cartridge instead. There almost seemed to be an agenda to bury its existence.

That has changed over the last few months, as Sega’s social media accounts have begun hinting at Sonic 3 in things like wallpapers and character profiles. Now that we know the game is finally coming back for real, we’re faced with a question: what of the music? Depending on who at Sega you ask and when, there have been opposing claims that Michael Jackson both was and was not involved in composing some of the game’s soundtrack. As I mentioned in my video a couple years ago, it sounded like there was some legal trouble, as Jackson collaborators Scirocco Jones and Bobby Brooks were claiming Sega owed them unpaid royalties for their very real, credited work on Sonic 3. Has Sega finally made peace with those two? Or have the offending music tracks been replaced, now that an alternate, prototype version of the Sonic 3 soundtrack has been recovered? Only time will tell, I suppose.

It’s exciting to think that this may mean the Retro Engine versions could finally be seeing a home console release, but it’s hard to ignore what a mess this will look like on the consumer end, given just how often some of these games have been re-released in the last few years. For Nintendo Switch owners, it’ll be possible to buy Sonic 1 and 2 as part of the Sega Ages collection, as part of the Genesis Classics Collection, and now as part of this new Sonic Origins collection. And each of those versions will have been produced independently of each other, with different features and extras. Sega Ages Sonic 2 features the drop dash from Sonic Mania and a special ring challenge mode, whereas the Genesis Classics version of Sonic 2 has emulator rewinds and a mirror mode. Sega has always leaned on re-releases of old Sonic games, but never has the market been this over-saturated.

Which lastly brings us to the stream's "One More Thing" reveal -- a cryptic video of Sonic running through a forest followed by some glyphs. Sega's always been a fan of mysterious promotions for Sonic games, dating all the way back to 2000's reveal of Sonic Adventure 2, where they spent months teasing the identity of Shadow the Hedgehog and his role in the game. The teaser shown during Sonic Central was so lacking in context and content that I honestly found it difficult to care. In order to set up a mystery, you should probably actually, like... tease something mysterious, right? There wasn’t enough here to grab on to.

You also have to consider the fact that, after the poor reception to games like Sonic Lost World and Sonic Forces, Sega doesn't have much goodwill to cash in on cryptic hints these days. It's not a good time to be shy about what the next Sonic game is going to be.

Graciously, the mystery didn't last long. The community ended up getting their hands on the source-quality version of the teaser given to the press, and noticed the file's embedded project header mentioned it was for something called "Rangers." That same day, Sega accidentally referred to a "Sonic Rangers" in a press release that was later scrubbed of that detail. This name was quickly cross-referenced with imageboard posts made last year from people who were apparently in a focus group test for a game called "Sonic Rangers." When the posts were originally made there was no reason to believe they were legitimate, but combined with the newfound context of Sega confirming the name, it began to paint a picture of the game that just might be true.

Going by the alleged focus group posts -- one in August of last year, and another in January of this year -- Sonic Rangers is an open world game where players run around a semi-realistic fantasy setting, completing puzzles and doing rudimentary quests. A new ability was talked about named "SpinCycle," where Sonic runs loops around enemies, sounding similar to the "paraloop" ability from Sonic Team’s NiGHTS: Into Dreams for the Sega Saturn. After completing puzzles in the open world, players can enter portals to "cyberspace" levels, which were described as being the most similar to levels from Sonic Generations. Completing a cyberspace level earned you a Chaos Emerald, and after collecting all seven, a boss could be faced: a massive titan the player had to fight as Super Sonic. Both focus group posts implied they understood this was only a small piece to demonstrate the mechanics.

For many years, I was against the idea of an open world Sonic game. There was definitely a fad during the PS2 and Xbox 360 eras where developers were trying to make all games open world. Racing games, platformers, sports games like Tony Hawk, it didn't matter. Everyone was trying to copy Grand Theft Auto's success, whether it made sense or not. This led to a lot of boring, forgettable open world games -- like Total Overdose, or State of Emergency. Whenever the community would bring up the possibility of an open world Sonic game, it felt more like cashing in on that fad rather than a desire to have a good game.

But as the dust settled on the open world gold rush and developers figured out what worked and what didn't, I began to have a change of heart. Sonic games generally have problems with repetition. Usually, there's a resource or some other collectable that must be gathered before you can unlock the next level, and that means replaying levels you've already finished multiple times. I've been developing a theory about this: in addition to padding the clock out in order to make the games longer, I think they're also trying to coax the player to replay levels for faster times or perfecting scores, because I'd argue that’s where most of the real fun is in Modern Sonic games. But not everybody is always into that, and depending on how it's presented, it can feel like tedious busy work.

Racing games eventually figured this out. Whereas before, racing games had discrete time trial modes that let you learn the layout of a track and practice to get faster times, the advent of an open world did away with that. By repeatedly traveling between locations on the map, players learn the layout of streets and roads naturally without it feeling so much like work. This could also be theoretically applied to Sonic games, where the grind of replaying stages over and over could be mitigated by incorporating it into the natural traversal of an open world.

The problem is, that's not exactly what the Sonic Rangers leak claims. It's an open world game, sure, but from the way it sounds, it also includes traditional linear Sonic levels in their own separate little sub-world. The problem is still there, just buried under another layer of abstraction.

But it's important to remember that Sonic Rangers is probably a year and a half away. For a professional game development studio with hundreds of employees, even a few months can lead to dramatic, sweeping changes. The people who were part of the focus test also say as much -- if Sega was getting feedback on Sonic Rangers all the way back in August (or as some posts claim, even March) of last year, there is plenty of time for them to course-correct and get things right before its release next year.

Now, I'm not dumb. This is Sonic the Hedgehog we're talking about. Statistically speaking, there are more bad Sonic games than good ones, and I say that as someone who was around and can remember the kind of impact Sonic had back when he first debuted. I know some of you out there will say things like, "Sonic Heroes was a good game!" -- but consider that by 1990's standards, Sonic the Hedgehog was as big as today's Call of Duty, or Fortnite. Sonic wasn't just a big deal, he was one of the biggest deals in all of gaming, and his games were golden. That was 30 years ago, and games like Sonic Heroes are a big step down in quality. Heck, even Sonic Heroes is going on 20 years ago. Getting something like Sonic Mania nowadays feels more like a happy accident than setting up any kind of precedent or return to form. There is a bare minimum skepticism that must be maintained with these games, otherwise you're setting yourself up for more heartbreak.

And I've always maintained that a lot of the bad Sonic games at least started with a good core idea. You can always see the potential in what they were attempting, but because of either time constraints, budget limitations, or some other weak link in their development pipeline, they never reach that potential once they end up on store shelves. Which, really, makes things even more heartbreaking. There are only so many times you can watch someone drop the ball before it starts to affect you.

There's still a long road ahead of Sonic Rangers. Let's see what E3 brings.

[msdoctorwho]

Fire Meet Gasoline, Ch. 4

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13461255/chapters/32828067

The new normal was...nice. There was a new mutual understanding, a gap bridged between them. A slight benefit of the doubt where before misunderstanding would have sparked a raging argument. Even Bulma’s mother commented that they were “getting along so much better these days!”

At first Bulma only spoke in Saiyan after he did, wary of being too familiar with what was clearly still precious to him. Gradually Vegeta sought her out to talk more and more, unable to resist the draw of his own language, until they conversed in it as easily as her own. Moreso, even, as in some darker moods he would respond to Saiyan when she was certain he’d have ignored her, before.

He rarely allowed himself downtime, but she found him reading once or twice, lost in one of the books for a short midday break under a tree, or while he ate alone at night before bed. He even messaged her once, from the tablet, with improved Saiyan translations for a few passages.

He wasn’t as reluctant to be around her as before, but he still held her at arms’ length, refusing to talk about his planet or people beyond answering simple questions for the research she was still pursuing, with his unspoken permission.

He wasn’t her adversary, but he wasn’t her friend yet, either. Bulma was at a loss as to why he resisted her attempts so much, and why she wanted so badly to make it happen. It wasn’t for knowledge, anymore; she’d learned more than she’d dreamed possible, and was still moving forward, though she'd had to split time with her other work obligations.

It was him . He was fascinating, this destroyer of worlds who lived in her home and occasionally asked her to pass the salt. She knew she should fear him. Instead, she wanted to climb inside him, to know every aspect of him and make him hers.

She supposed her attraction wasn’t all that surprising given she’d made no attempt at dating since Yamcha. It wasn’t because of the breakup; she just couldn’t be bothered with trivial men when the end of the world was coming. That was why she’d ended the relationship in the first place -- she’d realized if there might only be a few years left of her life, she didn’t want to spend them with Yamcha . There was nothing wrong with him. He just wasn’t who she wanted at her side to face the end of all things. And he deserved to maybe find that with someone else.

Given that it had been a while , it was not that surprising she’d started thinking about Vegeta that way. Whatever else he might be, he was far from trivial.

She knew he wasn’t un -interested in her. He had eyes, and she occasionally caught them on her with an intensity made all the more obvious by how quickly he looked away. But he was driven, he had plans, and there was no room in his schedule for anything that didn’t get him closer to ascending.

Bulma wasn’t a genius for nothing. The way to his... heart... was going to be through his goals. She’d already built him a facility, she already supplied him with bots. It was time to attack with data .

It’s not like he’d never read before -- one didn’t rise in the military without reading manuals, briefings, training texts, technical specs. He even vaguely remembered reading Saiyan fables and histories as a child. But it was entirely foreign to find himself reading of his own volition, for no reason other than diversion.

Contrary to what Bulma would have guessed, he’d begun with the fiction. It was an unexpected escape, a rare experience for him. It was even pleasant, until he had the unwelcome realization that he identified more with the orcs and Nazgûl than the group of heroes.

A subjugated army forced into war and conquest? Sounded a lot more like him than oblivious immortal elves living in treehouses or hairy little creatures digging houses into hillsides and eating all day. Did the fiction even explain why the orcs fought for this conqueror, or was it just assumed that they loved war? How could that have been enough? Even for a warlike people, what glory is there in service to a tyrant? What glory can be found without freedom?

The inside of his head had never been a pleasant place, not since the day his father bargained him away, but for the first time he began to grasp the the outside edges of the enormity of his sins. He’d done what he’d done to survive, all of it, but that didn’t make his hands any less bloody.

Combat, violence, and the pursuit of victory were in his bones, in whatever was left of his soul. It was how the world made sense. But so much of what they’d done under Frieza’s orders had been outright slaughter. There was no honor in obliterating the weak. How low had he fallen, that he’d allowed himself to enjoy it?

It was either that, or die, he supposed, under the weight of an otherwise joyless existence. The more time he spent away from that life, on this space-ignorant rock with its weak little inhabitants and one exasperating scientist, he wondered how he could ever have thought those years under Frieza held any joy at all.

Bulma lay in wait for him in the kitchen one evening, having already warmed up his dinner, knowing he would be more receptive after finishing his training for the day. In the mornings he had too much pent-up energy and no patience for conversation or anything that delayed him longer than necessary.

He eyed her with suspicion but no animosity as she served them both dinner and sat, saying nothing. She sipped her wine and waited, the imprint of her lips left behind on the glass, a half-moon of color that kept stealing his gaze.

“Out with it, woman.”

She smiled, and he felt as though he’d lost a point in a contest he was unaware of entering. “Well, Vegeta, I’ve been doing some research.”

“That’s a surprise.”

Was that sarcasm? She was delighted.

“You’ve trained every day since the chamber went online, and when it’s down for repairs you go off and blast shit elsewhere. You haven’t taken a single day off, have you?”

He shrugged. “Why would I waste time I could be training?”

She spoke casually, too casually. “That’s the thing -- I don’t think it would be a waste of time.”

“What the fuck do you know about it? You avoid physical activity like it might kill you.”

She huffed, sitting up straight, eyes flashing. “I’ll have you know I do plenty of-- you know what, never mind, this isn’t about me. I’m trying to help you, you ungrateful prick.”

The insult lacked venom so he ignored it. But still, “I’m not in need of your help.”

She switched tactics. Data, Bulma. “I’ve been studying peak human performers, professional athletes in various sports. How they train, what they eat.”

His grunt of irritation dismissed that as irrelevant. “I care about that, why?”

She waved a hand, “Yeah, I know humans and Saiyans are so different, Saiyans get stronger every time they’re beaten near to death, et cetera, et cetera.”

She leaned forward, uncrossing her legs. “But the mere existence of Gohan proves we’re way more similar than different, so you can’t throw out all of my data that easily.” Her lab coat parted with her movement, revealing the low neckline of the blouse underneath. Entirely unwillingly he was forced to contemplate exactly how compatible their races were whether he wanted to or not.

Seemingly oblivious, she carried on, “Human physiology benefits from a period of rest after a period of strenuous activity, giving the body time to repair and strengthen.” Eyes like a bird of prey watched him from behind her wineglass as she drank.

“Bah.” He began to rise, and she pulled an entire pie out of the fridge, putting it in front of him. He frowned at it but sat back down. It was pie, after all.

She drug a knife through it slowly, insolently, putting a slice on a plate he ignored by sticking his fork in the middle of the rest. “Have you ever wondered if one of the differences between you and Goku might be how you approach your training?”

He growled around a giant mouthful of pie, latent childhood manners still too regal to say what he really thought of her bringing up Kakarot with his mouth full.

She licked the edge of the knife, a quick flash of tongue like a wink. “Goku has always taken time off, now and then. He goes fishing with Gohan, takes Chichi to the city.”

He finished chewing. “Like I care what that third-class--”

“My point is,” she interrupted, daring to swipe a bite of his pie, “You can’t argue that it hasn’t been working for him.”

He looked furious. Bulma was going to lose him if she didn't act fast.

Vegeta felt a stab of betrayal at the implied comparison, and then surprise at the betrayal. When had he started thinking of her as anything other than his adversary's ally?

She broke into his thoughts with a hand on his arm, freezing him with a touch while fire ran over his skin.

Her voice was low, almost primal, challenging. “I’ll make a bet with you. It’s one day -- what do you have to lose?”

In Saiyan the literal phrase was more like “Do you have balls, or not?”  And his were tightening, at the challenge, at the touch. His blood sang under her fingers, as though sparked by her ki, which was impossible, as she had basically none.

He swallowed, jerking his arm away. “What are your terms?”

Her smile had too many teeth, like a well-fed predator. “You take one rest day, following the itinerary I plan, exactly. No training. We track your peak and average power levels the week before the rest day, and then the week after.”

She dug out her mobile to show him a graph, all business again. “Your progress so far has been fairly linear. I bet that during the first 48 hours after a rest day you’ll see a bigger jump than would be projected by the previous week’s data with no rest.”

She looked him dead in the eye, and he'd be damned if he looked away first. “If I’m wrong, I’ll make you a new set of training bots with enhanced AI.”

Neither of them blinked. She went on, “If I’m right, you take one day off at least every 10 days. Or work with me to find the ideal ratio of rest to work days.” Another sip of wine, still locking eyes. "Up to you."

She dropped her gaze, and he exhaled. “What does this rest day entail?”

She brushed invisible crumbs off of her garment with a lazy, ineffective gesture. “Sleeping. Eating. Massage. Maybe some active recovery, like walking or stretching. Diverting yourself mentally with something completely unrelated to training.”

He sighed. The part of him that had kept him alive for so long insisted it was a waste of time he couldn’t afford, but he was beginning to trust in her and her logic , and honestly it sounded rather...pleasant.

“I’ll do it, but you’re going to make me the new bots either way.” He felt smug about that stipulation, somehow coming out ahead after this shipwreck of a conversation.

“Done,” she said with a smooth, tiny smile, and he had the sudden feeling that a squad of new bots already awaited him somewhere, and he hadn’t won anything at all.

[3one3]

The Sequel - 788

Unstable Footing

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea players, and random awesome OC’s

(okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

“Babe, it’s bad. Like unusable-bad. And he said it’s a problem with the base being too soft, so the heavier the dirt they put in the middle to firm it up, the more it’s going to sink. I can deal with the stall doors all being mounted too high. I can’t deal with this footing. I can’t. It’s dangerous. They-“

“Okay, okay, calm down. I get it. We’ll fix it!”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you! It can’t be fixed! They dug up and hauled out everything that kept the top from sinking!”

André squeezed his eyes shut and tried to calm himself. Christina was on the verge of tears on the phone. She sounded to him the way she did when she was severely overtired and beyond cranky and a waitress dared screw up her order by letting ketchup touch something she intended to eat, or on the rare occasion when Espen had to “call in sick” and it ruined her plans for the day. Her dramatic tantrum was over her new ring at the house in Dortmund. The people in charge of scraping the basic sand footing up, redoing the base for better drainage, and installing new polymer-fused sand footing seemed to have botched the job. They dug so deep into her arena that they destabilized everything. The blue stone dust base was meant to be firm and help reduce the need for really deep footing on top. Jumping requires shock absorption but also a sturdy enough surface to take off from without sinking. The setup Christina ordered for Germany was exactly what she had in London. It should have been perfect for excessive rain, low-dust enough not to need frequent watering in the summer, kind on her equine athletes’ feet, tendons, and muscles, and strategically useful for mimicking the kind of surface they’d jump on in show rings around the world. What she got was quicksand. It was much too deep. Optimal or advantageous was a long way off. It was more like dangerous and unusable. And the project manager giving the tour of her new facility was grim about it. He said the problem was with the base sinking and taking the surface sand with it. They tried to fix it by adding a little more sand, which just made for more sinking, so they scooped it all up again and tried to add more stone dust to the base, but the weight and density made for more collapsing underneath.

“There has to be a way to fix it,” André assured his frantic, miserable wife. “Let me talk to Peter. Give him the phone.” He needed to put out the fire, and quick. She was already furious that the workers mounted her stall doors a couple of inches too high, so that there was an unsightly gap between the bottom and the floor, which meant shavings would be kicked out into the aisle all the time. The hardware was welded on both sides. They couldn’t “fix” it without replacing all three elements of every stall front. It would take time to disassemble them and then manufacture new parts. The doors themselves would need to be replaced too because the tops lined up with the pieces on the side for symmetry. They weren’t just mounted too high. They were built too short. It was a mess. After she got through the angry text rant on that, she switched to heartbroken acceptance.

Part of the problem was that Christina didn’t get much sleep Friday night. She spent a long time chatting with him on the phone once Juan left and Lukas was in bed, but then Lukas didn’t feel well. He cried on the monitor until his mom came to find out what was wrong, and he was a little warm, and a little pale. He didn’t have a fever and he didn’t get sick. He was just unhappy and uncomfortable and couldn’t sleep, so she had to stay up with him and do what she could. Then there was the usual stuff in the morning- waking up early, working out, and riding, only it all had to happen even earlier than usual because she needed to get on a plane to Dortmund. The rider arrived at her new home cranky and tired and far from the open mindedness that her footballer husband hoped she would embrace when she got to see the completed project on the eastern half of the property.

“The only thing I can really do is dig it all out deeper and start over, but I have to work with the weather, then. We have snow, and rain, and freezing. It could take some time. We’d have to get the footing company out with their engineers again,” Peter, the builder in charge of everything to do with the horse facilities explained to him after he asked what needed to be done to fix the situation. André tried to be calm and reasonable. He could picture the ugly body language that would have accompanied Christina’s fit, and he could imagine the tone in which she expressed her displeasure and dismay to the man. His patience and calm were not without limits.

“Well you’re going to eat that cost, yes?” he asked pointedly. “Because you did it wrong in the first place?”

“Well, that’s not how we normally-“

“Yeah, but normally you correctly prepare the ring for the footing company to install their product, so we’re not talking “normally” here. I want it fixed. I want it done the right way. I want a finished ring that is exactly how she needs it to be. If you aren’t going to make the situation right, then I’m going to have to get someone else in to do it and my attorney is going to say that I shouldn’t have to pay out of pock-“

“We don’t need to speak about attorneys.”

“So you’ll take care of it, then?”

“I’ll do what I can.”

“Fantastic. And what can you do for her about the stall door mistake? I understand from her that it would take a lot of time and work to change them. Is there any way to make it up to her?”

“As I said to Christina, the final charges will reflect this mistake.”

“Great.” The German smiled inside at his own negotiating skills and the reluctance with which Peter caved. Christina got her phone back and still didn’t sound any happier despite having stood right next to him and heard that there was a plan in place to fix the problem. “It’ll be fine, Prinzessin,” André assured. “If they have to scoop out an acre of dirt and grass and make you a whole new ring from scratch, then that’s what we’ll make them do. I promised you no settling for less than what you want. Is there anything else that needs changing? Did you see everything else yet? What does Tom think?”

“He doesn’t like that they paved the garage area,” the rider replied, her tone obstinate as she eyed her groom and future stable manager, who was literally kicking dirt around in the unfenced riding ring. That was another thing she didn’t like about it. She liked rings with fences, and gates. Hers was surrounded with a low hedge. A low hedge would never stop a horse from running away if he lost his rider, and the only fence to keep him on the property was the one separating it from the neighbors, meaning a loose horse had free reign of the entire parcel, and access to a million opportunities to get himself injured, or to hurt someone else. “The weight of the big ass tractor will damage the asphalt after a while and it’ll have to be redone.”

“All right, well...we’ll deal with that if it becomes a problem. Is there anything else? Do you like your office, and all the racks and things in your tack room? Did you see that yet? With the split?” The BVB star knew it would be hard to turn her mood around no matter what. She clearly wanted to be upset and angry, so even highlighting something good, or something that she liked, was unlikely to improve her tone. The tack room setup was something he thought she should smile about and look forward to. Tom requested, sort of below her radar, that the builders put a wall up to section off about a third of the space for storage of the heavy-duty packing cases that traveled with the horses. He wanted a convenient place to put them and unpack them as necessary, so they got their own sort of room. The laundry machines were in there too. He also wanted more fixed storage for supplies and equipment instead of keeping things like saddle pads and polo wraps in the trunks. In his new tack room, the trunks were going to be mostly decorative, with the exception of the one that Christina was attached to and got schlepped around with the packing cases. So he got beautiful and expansive Brazil wood cabinets and shelving that matched the stalls. He even got a granite countertop for the “work island” in the middle of the room with the sink and hanging grappling hook for tack cleaning. A tack room that combined luxury kitchen with luxury dressing room would, under normal circumstances, give Christina warm and appreciative fuzzies inside. That it was hers should have done even more. André hoped that if nothing else on the property got her excited, at least that part should have done.

“Yeah it’s nice,” she muttered, uninterested and uninspired. I want to go home. This footing is a disaster. If they couldn’t figure this out, who knows what else they fucked up, the rider grumbled inside. She moved the phone from her ear for a second and shook the sleeves of her toggle coat to get them to cover her hands. It wasn’t a nice day for a tour. The whole property felt desolate to her because of the cold, the gray skies, and the “just finished” nature of everything the construction crews touched. Dirt was still freshly churned in places. Grass ruined by the building process couldn’t grow back yet. There was still heavy machinery in the parking lot and next to the indoor. No landscaping could be done yet. There was plastic wrap and building materials everywhere, like loose nails in the barn aisle. The property was devoid of life.

“Okay.” André didn’t want to push too hard. He didn’t want his girl to feel pressured into lying or pretending just to make him happy. “Did you look at the house at all? The guys are working?”

“The lights are on and all the trucks are there.”

“Are you going to go look?”

“Tom has to get back to work and he’s my ride to the airport, so...”

“What time is your flight?”

“6 something.”

“Are you doing anything tonight?”

“Couch and TV.”

I’ll try to talk with her later, he decided. Then she has some time to cool off, she can probably make it home in time to see Lukas, have some food, put her feet up...Hopefully the Cranky Prinzessin Tantrum is over by then. He said goodbye to her and wished her a good flight. On the plus side for him, she did say she wanted to hear later about the friendly match he’d just played and scored in. Getting off the phone allowed him to get out of his ice bath and into some warm clothes. Playing for 45 minutes, even at test-match pace and against decidedly weaker opposition, still felt like a lot of work having only been back in training a couple of days. It also felt good though. André was looking forward to taking his chances as Dortmund’s front man. With Auba away on international duty and Adrian Ramos on his way to China, the black and yellows were in need of someone, or two someones, to lead their attack. It was unclear yet if that would be André, Marco, Mario, or some pair from those three. There was some time to try all the options in training, and in other scheduled friendlies. André didn’t desperately want the role. He wasn’t tied to it. It wasn’t as if he didn’t think he would get to play at all if not in that position. The situation presented an opportunity for him to prove his usefulness in another way though, and to be a different option, and that could only be good for the team and good for his standing with the manager. It was also just a lot more fun for him to play in a position where lots of chances would be creating for him and his defensive and pressing duties were reduced in comparison to when he was tasked with playing on either wing.

“Zoe just fired another nanny. I love the girl, but damn she can be stupid,” Marco complained the second his taller, blonder, significantly less adored teammate landed in the seat next to him on the bus back to the hotel. “Don’t fire the nanny when the only other person who looks after Noah is in another fucking country for the next 6 days.”

“Can’t she get her mother to help? I make my mom come stay with me when I have Lukas if Espen isn’t coming with him. Why did she fire the nanny?”

“Noah went in the guest bathroom and took out cleaning supplies from under the sink while Sofie was on the phone and not paying attention. She’s pretty much always on the phone. It’s not like No can open the containers,” Marco reasoned while tapping furiously at his own device. “Zoe just gets mad because her only job is to watch the kid and she’s not watching the kid. But this is our fourth nanny! Only one of them was really bad. I would be fine keeping any of the others. Now we have to interview more. I hate that.”

“That’s annoying. The only time Chris has even considered firing our nanny was when you slept with her.” André tried to keep a straight face. It didn’t work at all. He snorted and coughed a couple of times and then gave into the laughter.

“I didn’t sleep with her!”

“Yeah, okay, no one is buying that. No one has ever bought that.”

“It’s true! Is she moving with Chris and the baby, by the way?” Marco was even worse at concealing his vested interest in Espen’s future. This problem produced more laughter.

“Yes, she is, and you’re not allowed anywhere near her. I don’t want to be interviewing new nannies too!” his friend insisted. “Especially after I have to pay to move her and everything.”

“I am a one woman guy. You know this.”

“Except for last year when you were a one woman and one nanny guy?”

“Zoe and I were not together!”

“Chris hates the stable,” André offered, not just as an out from the conversation for Marco, but because he felt like talking about his newest problem. “She doesn’t say, but I can tell. There’s a problem with the footing in the ring, which is going to be fixed, but she was so flat about the whole thing. At first I thought- she’s cranky, the footing is a big disappointment, it’s just a bad day. Then I was thinking maybe she’s upset because the barn being done means we’re closer to her having to move. But now I don’t know. I don’t think so. I think she just doesn’t like it. If she were really down about the move, she would recognize that within herself and go out of her way to pretend, to hide that from me, because she knows I don’t like it. I think she just doesn’t like it. She couldn’t find a single thing to be positive about. And she was fine this morning so it’s not even like it’s because last night she was with-“ Whoops. No. Stop. He had to pull the emergency brake on his mouth before going too far into Juan territory. Stream of consciousness was usually okay around his good friends. He could tell Marco almost anything, and the only other person really in earshot was Mario, but he had headphones on anyway. Christina’s unconventional relationship with Juan was for no one’s ears, by necessity. He couldn’t mention to Marco that he was sure her complete lack of enthusiasm about her new barn had nothing to do with her having dinner with Juan on Friday night and sending him home after so that she could put Lukas to bed and spend the rest of her evening watching a movie on the phone with her husband, because that would beget questions as to why that interaction would have any bearing on her mood.

“She was with who?” Marco inquired, distracted.

“She was with Lukas all night. He didn’t feel well and couldn’t sleep.”

“That’s such shit. We had that with Noah a lot around the same age. He didn’t get sick. There was nothing obviously wrong with him, just didn’t feel well and couldn’t stay asleep.”

“For some reason he always sleeps fine when he’s with me,” André shrugged, grateful that his pivot out of danger went smoothly. “And when we’re all together and he doesn’t sleep, Chris stays up with him. I go to bed.”

“Lucky. See, that’s why you put a ring on it. Zo makes me stay up all night when he’s having a fit. No ring for her.” Marco put his phone down in his lap with some satisfaction, and sighed just a bit. The other player thought his assessment was ridiculous, but he also thought it was a joke. Christina would have wanted him to pester Marco about a real reason why he and Zoe weren’t married yet, or if they ever would be. She would want him to press and prod and get details. He wasn’t going to do that. He knew better. Marco didn’t do open and honest like that just out of nowhere. Also, André didn’t care. He didn’t care if Marco and Zoe were married or not. His friend was pretty happy with his home life and that was all that mattered. The friend to his left was pretty unhappy with his home life and that was a whole other issue, and one he was equally disinterested in getting involved in.    

Christina found the other half of that situation waiting at the fork in her driveway when she got home. Stefanie called her on the way from the airport to ask if she could give her a ride home. Her car was dead, and not for the first time. It was always falling apart. Isandro said it needed a new alternator and that she should have it towed. That is easier said than done on a Saturday night, so it was going to have to sit at the barn until morning. Christina said she could give her a lift home and then pick her up in the morning so she could ride, or take her somewhere to rent a car, since she’d still need to get to work at Box Hill in the afternoon and be able to get around for however long it took to fix her junky old car, which surely wouldn’t be done on a Sunday, or that she could spend the night and then they’d go find a rental for her when they were finished with their horses in the morning. Stefanie figured staying over was less of an inconvenience for her coach than making her chauffer her all over creation, plus there was leftover lasagna on offer and the knowledge that the house’s wine collection was always brimming with interesting and delicious inventory. Christina sorted her out with a glass of 24-year-old Jaboulet La Chapelle Hermitage, and sweatpants.

“Do you like it? I have a case from that year. The Canadian guy who still owns Nick’s breeding rights sent it to us for Christmas last year and I was pregnant so I couldn’t drink it. Actually two years ago, I guess. Anyway, I forgot about the bottles. They’re on the bottom of the rack down there,” the older rider explained, referring to the basement, or the wine and adidas cellar. She hadn’t sampled her Hermitage yet because she got home just in time to see Lukas off to sleep and he was more appealing.

“It’s wonderful, thanks,” Stefanie nodded. The girls sat together on the sofa with two Toy Fox terriers between them for petting and doting. “I’ve been trying to limit my wine drinking to when I go out to eat, but that kind of doesn’t make any sense. It’s cheaper to drink at home. But it’s also a shame to drink alone, and a shame to drink water when you’re out with people and having nice food. You see my dilemma?” Stefanie chuckled.

“I tried to do that with soda. I didn’t want to have soda in the house because then I just drink it all the time. But you can buy a big bottle for the cost of one Coke at a restaurant, and usually you’re having tons more calories when you eat out than when you eat at home too, so it’s like why pay more and stack the sugar and carbs all into one meal? My solution is to buy the cans. I can’t drink a whole one in one sitting, so it means I can only have a Coke when there’s someone else around who wants to split it with me. I’m kind of the same with wine. I don’t drink it alone much. A lot of the time I pour a glass to have while I watch TV with these guys, or with Luke, and I start out strong- lots of sipping, lots of paying attention to it- and then I forget or just don’t want anymore and half the glass gets wasted. Now that we’ve opened that bottle we have to drink the whole thing!”

“I think I can manage it,” Stefanie said with a crazed look in her eyes. “I am so done with that car. I’m going to lease a new one when we get to Dortmund. My rent is going to be so much less so I have more of my stipend from the federation available for other things, and I’m still going to work. Whenever I find a job,” she added with slightly less enthusiasm.

“Have you talked to Holger about that? I assume you mean a horse job.” The lady of the house was thoroughly enjoying the happy face Spencer made up at her as she scratched his tummy.

“I have, but he only knows of other trainers in the area looking for full time workers or full time working students. I can’t work full time and still be able to train, and I’m already training with you so I can’t be a student elsewhere. My sister thinks I should look for some sort of retail thing, just to make pocket money since the stipend will cover all of my expenses. I’d like a chance to save though, as I have been doing here. I don’t get that stipend forever.”

“I don’t know if you’re interested in manual labor, but you could always ask Tom to give you the job as the other groom. We wanted someone who can mow with the tractor and fix fences and stuff like that, and be in charge when we’re away at shows. There might be some way to split things so that one of you or Kyle is always home,” the coach suggested. “I mean, there probably isn’t,” she corrected with a humble laugh. “He’s going to have a real horse to show now, and you need to go to as many as you can. In reality we’re actually probably going to have to get another groom to travel with us if we’re taking 7, 8 horses all the time. You two can’t be looking after your own horses and Tom is busy enough with mine. I don’t know. Maybe I need to suck it up and put all of you on the payroll, get Tom the guy he wants for home, and then take on a part-time show groom too. I have to start paying Kyle anyway. I don’t pay him now. He just gets free rent.”

“Yeah but then you’re paying for an FEI groom for him and me. That doesn’t make any sense.”

“What else could we do though? Get his parents to pay for it? They already give him money to live on.”

“What about someone who wants to work for free, for the experience? Or a full-on working student? We’re going to have plenty of room for another horse. What if there were three of us and we just rotate to make sure everyone is covered? Here, listen to this. You get paid board for my horses and for Kyle’s horses, by the FN in my case, by his parents for Goose, and by Stephex for that new one. We both ride your horses for you as needed in return for training, so that’s square. We’ll both do work in the barn to help Tom, and you pay us for that. There won’t be a lot to do when everyone is home, but there is when some are away. Then you get a working student who gets free board and lessons in return for doing the worst jobs in the barn, grooming for Kyle and I at shows, or doing the barn when we’re all showing. Makes sense, yeah?”

“Not really,” Christina laughed after a big gulp of the nice red, which she forgot was in her other hand the whole time she tickled the delighted dog. “Then I have 5 people working in the barn every day, to take care of 12 horses and one Optimus Prime. I don’t have time to coach three working students at home or at shows. You forget that this third kid would obviously want to show too. I have 7 horses to deal with once we move. I can’t do that and all of you too. It would be much easier to just let Tom pick another groom to always be at home, and try to get Holger to hook us up with like an apprentice or something to groom for you and Kyle at shows. Or we can put an ad online for someone who wants to work just for the experience, rather than someone who is going to bring a horse with them and need lessons and all the other garbage. Free grooms actually grow on trees in the US. I can’t imagine it’s that different in Germany.”

“I guess. But then I still need to find a job.” Stefanie turned her lip over in a pathetic pout and her senior teammate chucked a throw pillow in her direction, which made Spencer hop up and wag his tail.

“Just move into Mario’s condo, tell him about what a piece of junk your car is, and make that exact face at him. He’ll get you some wheels, you’ll have the full stipend to live on and save each month; problem solved!”

“Ha! No. He wouldn’t have me anyway.” The bottle blonde was smiling and lighthearted at the beginning of her declaration, but that faded across just a handful of words. Then there was a frown, and an uncomfortable pivot. She lifted her glass and literally turned away from the conversation.

What’s happened there, Christina wondered. She wasn’t as down about the barn as André thought, but she was still pretty turned off by her experience there. Stefanie’s car troubles and Lukas’ story time and then the discussion of who would staff the new barn provided plenty else to think about, and that was welcomed. It appeared she was ready to provide a whole other topic with which to distract while they waited for the lasagna to heat up in the oven. It also appeared that she probably didn’t want to actually get into that topic. But what if she’s just doing the thing I do when I don’t want to talk about something but really I do want to talk about it and I’m just waiting for someone to drag it out of me? Usually she’s completely dismissive about her relationship or lack thereof with Little Mario. This time she looks genuinely upset about it. I shall inquire.

“Trouble in Daytona Beach?”

“Daytona Beach?”

“People say “trouble in Paradise”. You guys have never been Paradise. Daytona Beach is like a nice Florida beach full of trailer park trash and Middle America tourists and buffalo wing joints with waitresses in hotpants. It could be a wonderful place, but it’s not. You get what I’m saying?” Puppy come baaaaack... Christina looked on with sadness as her tricolor terrier jumped off the couch to pursue some other interest.

“That is a strangely appropriate metaphor for my history with him.” The other girl tried to summon a smile. Her struggle was easier to pick out than the resulting grin.

“Why do you say he wouldn’t have you?”

“He was pushing on me for months, trying to get me to put a label on our relationship- to commit, basically. I kept avoiding it. I wasn’t sure. How do you commit to someone so far away? It’s different, I think, when you start the relationship in one place and then it get’s forced apart. That’s easier. That’s survivable. I don’t think you can start long-distance, or restart, in our case,” she explained in a manner Christina found surprisingly devoid of emotion. Stefanie could switch off all signs of personality in a second. She could be dull on command. Christina used to think she just was dull. It took some time for her to realize she used plainness for things, like fitting into a group she wasn’t sure about, not having to be involved in things she didn’t want to be involved in, keeping calm in tense situations, and that night on the couch, to avoid letting emotions get in the way of her ability to communicate something difficult. In some ways she was able to use that total lack of animation in the saddle too. Her two lightning rods- Dezzy and Jelly Bean- overreacted to everything. They could eat a nervous or uncertain rider alive. Stefanie had to be flat as a pancake inside to get the best from them. “When it became clear that I’m going to move to Dortmund too, I started thinking about us more seriously, and we were talking a lot, and I was feeling how I used to when we first met. He’s been struggling to get out from under his reputation there, so we talk sooooooooo much. In some ways I feel closer to him now than I did when I was able to see him every few weeks, and actually spend time together. But he pulled back recently. He doesn’t want to get serious if I can’t be around all the time. He wants a girlfriend that will be there 4 days a week when he gets home from training, and can go out to dinner with him 5 times, and be at his matches. That’s the normal he wants. Right now I work 12-hour days. I have my riding to do in the morning, and then I teach in the afternoon, and I have classes into the evenings. I hope to have a similar situation when we relocate. And I go away for 5 days at a time, several times a month. I can’t be the stay-at-home girlfriend who goes out of town a few times to have my picture taken in a bikini somewhere and calls that a career. I told him that. I made it clear. Now he hardly speaks to me. It hurts. I’m like, “Please talk to me, because now I miss you when you disappear for days, and I worry about you, and I need you too because I have all this change going on, and it feels good to need someone.” And he acts like a guy getting ready to break up with a girlfriend. We had a fight when I was trying to decide about extending my lease or going month to month for my apartment. I floated the idea of living together, because it’s something he brought up before, and he said he doesn’t want a roommate who just sleeps and showers there.”

“He really said that? That sounds way too selfish jerk to be Mario.”

“Yeah. It stung. We have all these small arguments and everything in between them gets less and less normal. I keep trying. I watched his match today on my phone and sent him nice messages about it, but he hasn’t responded. He’ll probably text me back two words tomorrow afternoon. I don’t know what to do.”

“I do!”