#Even with a map AND skills of orientation and still I just kept going in circles confused

[buttercupshands]

Zoned out while playing Earthbound after doing exam stuff bc I liked the atmosphere in that place

Felt like meditating with cool music on as well

[blackuigryphonvr]

THIS is what Pokemon GO looked like in my area in 2018:

2018 iPhone Pokemon Go looking "rural"

THIS is what Pokemon Go looks like NOW (2024) where I live:

Well, I've been testing this for years, so there's definitively an ample amount of data that proves there's a group of saboteurs that target South Weymouth Massachusetts. There's also that no infamous incident in February 2020 on Reddit where they were bragging about sabotaging my area, and full on fighting with me. They even actively got me banned 3 times in 2020, and I had to change my identity, and pretend I was a dude from 2020-2022, and even changed my name 4 times. #PokemonGo

There's some evidence 🤔 it's connected to an Ingress beef as well. I've had a list of suspects as well. They seemed to have originally been targeting an Admin in my area, perhaps out of envy. They also seemed to have confused me with said admin, or thought I was his underling. That's not how we do things in Weymouth. We're not master & slaves, we're neighbors, n each player has their own unique areas of specialties.

Also, the god level players in Greater Boston live in Weymouth, not just masters of raids, getting Hundo, Shundo, n rare shiny Legendary Pokémon, but whom r naturally blessed w luck, somehow. Or, they're the very best GBL & PVP Players. I know who they r, we all know each other, do raids, share tips, help newbies, n coach people to achieve. We also cultivate tolerance, talking stuff out, n safety. We've had some bad experiences here n there, so we like women players n kids to be safe. We also interact w players in other towns, n car pooling is very popular.

As far as game play goes, we're good.

But, I'm talking about #NianticWayfarer

Because the vultures are REAL!

I've had to figure out, n navigate these punks. They appear to have OCD, n reverse psychology issues, n do stuff out of spite. There's a group of them (including on Reddit) n they take screen shots, probably have extra fake accounts, n they login to Wayfarer , n scour Wayfarer for stuff in Weymouth. Especially in South Weymouth, where we live. This has been going on since late 2019, when Wayfarer 1st went live.

We used to think it was so odd that all the best advice we dug up from Ingress players, as well as resources, for the new Wayfarer rules was not working out.

So, it was a common excuse of "lazy reviewers" or "lazy voters". But, I kept getting accused of being an "Abuser", and a "Racist". FOR PLAYING POKÉMON GO??? FOR SUBMITTING A WAYPOINT TO WAYFARER???

WHO DOES THAT MAKE SENSE TO???

But, I noticed that while posting inside our local Discord server, for Wayfarer, if I told everyone WHICH locations I was submitting, they'd all fail, and quickly.

But, when I submitted stuff, and DID NOT TELL the Discord server thread which ones I was doing, I noticed those usually went through.

This was a very consistent pattern. But, everyone in the server was still very status quo oriented like "it's just lazy voters".

THEN IT HAPPENED!

IN February 2020, they started bragging! IN PUBLIC! ON REDDIT! N THEY CALLED ME "AN ABUSER". THEY ALSO THREATENED TO BAN ME, WHICH THEY ACTUALLY DID.

Here in Weymouth, we coordinate, n we can be very motivated & diligent, including myself. I coached people to get really good at this. I also took much of my strategy skills I learned from playing Ingress, to strategies on Wayfarer. [ Another Ingress thingy of mine. ]

These punks also would sabotage my Google maps account. They'd move my Google points out into the ocean, or the wrong locations. This is how evil they are. They also smeared me using a fake account in Discord. They know all my social media using my BlackUniGryphon names on them. I actually never even did anything to them. I've never seen them face to face. They r just vicious. Someone also hacked my original BlackUniGryphon Reddit account n I can't even recover it because they changed the email address. They also made a Reddit account using my Google email, n got it banned for really bad behavior, n there's nothing I can do to fix it, n it gets notifications for explicit gay sex stuff, that I can't even turn off. I didn't even know they made that account until long after it was banned, because I was busy XP grinding to Level up in Pokémon Go.

This is just SOME of the stunts they pulled.

But, to show u an example of the nonsense they group vote on, n coordinate as saboteurs, the reasons they give r literally the exact SAME, including from OTHER PLAYERS I KNOW that aren't even my account.

These r all submitted around the same time n from different accounts of different players, n all in Weymouth. SOUTH WEYMOUTH actually.

Notice they cited "Rejection Criteria" as "Temporary or Seasonal Display", or "Generic Business". Another bogus one is "Mismatched Location"

Notice how they're all the same?

They pick the same reasons, to intentionally sabotage it. Other times these locations were submitted, they'd use different coordinated rejection reasons that were exactly the same reason, as tho they pre-determined what the rejection reason would be. Like "BAD Photo" or "Orientation of the Photo", or "Blurry Photo", or "Racist", or "Abuse" or "Unsafe".

This time the saboteurs chose "Generic Business" or "Temporary".

Also interesting to note is, we haven't submitted anything in months except for 1 guy I know, and he gave up for a long while in Weymouth. I haven't submitted anything in months, other than Appeals...

Well, we did a batch, n u can see the dates showing January, then placed them on hold. Of those batches we did, we told no one publicly, just ourselves.

And, since the vultures were not on the prowl, they started getting approved. These were locations that were the stubborn ones. The ones that obviously go through in other towns. And, things getting approved started creating new PokéGyms as well. Plural.

So, after a while it's hard to keep it quiet, and we bragged a lil bit.

Well..... the vultures noticed, n went to Wayfarer, n sabotaged the last of the batch in Voting.

I've gone through this process over & over for years. All predictable patterns at this point.

Bur, the stuff that we, or I, couldn't get through in 2019-2022, is pretty much LIVE & in the Niantic games now. We know IITC MOBILE, we know Ingress, we know Wayfarer. We know how to change our writing styles, we know how to adapt. We know long term strategy. I even use decoys as a method to test if the vultures are active. I'll submit something intentionally knowing it's got a lower chance of passing (because I know the rules from the older systems) n when the vultures r out, it'll get rejected quickly. But, there's times when my decoys passed through. Which shows that it's subjective, and not objective.

Like I wouldn't expect a bland generic coffee shop, or plain or pizza takeout, to go through. In my opinion, it should be a special & unique one, or ethnic one. So, objectively that shouldn't really go through. But, ones that actually SHOULD COUNT N QUALIFY SHOULD go through. But, if it was in Weymouth it wouldn't, but in other towns it would, n did.

When it comes to being a hateful person, there's only so long u can keep that up, because it's toxic & draining. So, they often give up, n stop logging in to sabotage the area because we don't submit anything.

It's basically like applying principles from Algebra, or mathematics. Like subtraction is addition in reserve. Or, division is multiplication in reverse. Or, things like factors & variables. If u get more & more data that shows a result, we can plot that data.

We can find: trends, averages, rates, coronation.

And even tho originally there were no jerks in my face telling me they were sabotaging me/us, they eventually DID brag on Reddit. They also expressed their motives, which were often an attachment to this idea of weilding power over others, a drive to feel superior, or righteous. Or psychologically weaponizing rules. If u gotta behave like that to pretend u r the hood guys, n I'm the bad guy, u r seriously sick in the mind.

But, even BEFORE they bragged about it, I could tell something was up just by analyzing the patterns in the results, n treating as experiments using the scientific method.

I could think working backwards & forward, like Algebra using variables and factors.

I could also change the way I wrote my blurbs to see which tested better.

Despite the haters, I (and my Community) have turned a desolate place into a thriving one.

Anyways, I won't be mentioning names. There was at least 1 player from Reddit that we smoothed stuff over with.....

But, I won't be naming them. I still will do raids with naughty players because I find they can overcome prejudice by exercising tolerance. I also believe in talking stuff out. But, let's be clear, some people actually r sick in the head, n WANT TROUBLE. If they talked it out, they wouldn't have strife, drama, n trouble because it's something they feed on.

I've also noticed that, sometimes some people can suddenly change. It does happen. N there's no logical explanation. Sometimes, not everything is logical.

U also need to be flexible, but also not end up inside a trap of some sort, mentally, metaphorically, energetically, egotistical, pridefully, ideologically, or otherwise.

There's no 1 set way of doing anything, n no 1 definitively correct method or WAY of accomplishing it.

No good deed goes unpunished.

U could do everything 100% perfectly flawless, n still get screwed. Because it's not actually about being right. N that's WHY it stings.

But, get stung enough times, n u get thicker skin, or u don't even feel it. It's just a number.

I coached so many players through this same mayhem. Remember, it's NOT REALLY ABOUT YOURSELF, IT'S FOR THE COMMUNITY. YOUR PRIDE MEANS ACTUALLY VERY LITTLE....

But, let's keep it real, the BRAGGING is built into the game... so, u should show ur accomplishments....

I honestly wouldn't have even cared.... but, those vulture made me into this.

HATERS CAN KISS IT!!!!

你不知道我是谁！

Anyways, it turns out YOU DON'T WHO WHO I AM!

[writer-ish]

I love your fics so much! The Mason ones are utterly amazing 🤩

As for my ask: the touching prompts and Mason can you do 37+50?

prompt: putting their head on the other’s chest / putting a hand over the other’s mouth to shut them up pairing: mason x detective (grace bennett) word count: 1.5k | rating: T (language) author note: you are so sweet. ☺️ thank you sm and thanks for the prompt love! hope you enjoy. 

☾☾ touching prompts

*

It wasn't that the meetings were boring, per se.

Consolidation after a patrol was a necessity in Grace's eyes. It wasn’t like they all walked through the same streets and alleys together, arms linked, the five of them patrolling in tandem. Nate usually went one way, Adam another. Felix would decide who he wanted to join or if he felt like taking his own route.

And that would leave her and Mason.

She tried, once, to tell him that she didn't need him to patrol with her. They'd cover more ground separately, of course. That much seemed obvious. And before Unit Bravo had arrived, she had been made detective of their small town's police force, which had to count for something—had to speak to some level of ability; of skill.

But the absolutely withering look he gave her upon that suggestion shut down any further discussion on the matter.

Plus, and here was the real problem, the crux of the issue—the truth was, if she were being honest with herself... she liked having him on patrol with her.

It felt like a betrayal of her sex to admit that she felt—safer with him around. But for all her capabilities (admittedly most of which were intellectual and not so much physical or combat-oriented), the idea of having someone to patrol with, a protector, was—

Well, it was nice.

Of course she would never, ever admit that out loud. She could barely admit it in the sanctity of her thoughts.

But ever since life had changed for her in Wayhaven, and supernatural occurrences had become the norm, and her life had been put in danger (more than once), it seemed, at the very least, prudent of her to have the extra support wherever available.

And anyway, they were partners. If not in anything else, they were partners for the Agency. And the patrol - they did that together.

Which brought Grace back to the present moment.

The meeting.

Every time the unit patrolled, they would meet together briefly afterwards to discuss anything unusual they had seen, offer up any suggestions for future patrols, or coordinate routes or sites that may be more fruitful or beneficial in the future. There was always a plan, an ultimate goal, and each member of Unit Bravo, including their human liaison, wanted to ensure that their patrols were as efficient as possible.

Which was all well and good, fantastic really, except for one small thing.

Grace was fucking exhausted.

Months of working for the Agency, of patrolling with UB and then waking up a few hours later and doing her other job, her “real” job, for a seemingly endless amount of time, only to come home and cat nap and then do it all over again—it was taking its toll.

The vampires were fine, because of course they were; they were fucking vampires. Sleep was a suggestion. A novelty. A lark.

But Grace was tired.

At this particular post-patrol gathering, she had tried exceptionally hard to focus. Adam said they were going to keep it short, but it had already been twenty minutes and he was still going over a detour in his route that he felt would be beneficial.

Mason sat beside her on the arm of the chair she was sitting in, a high-backed, extra plush thing, that was somehow incredibly conducive to sleep and also horribly uncomfortable.

He was flicking his lighter open and closed as he listened and she lightly tapped his thigh with the back of her hand to get him to stop, feeling her eyelids grow heavier with each passing second.

He looked down at her and took a second to absorb her expression, before looking over sharply at Adam and barking:

“Hey, how about we wrap this shit up—?”

His words were unceremoniously cut off by Grace’s hand over his mouth.

She felt the sharp intake of breath he took as he glanced at her in surprise, eyes narrowed and nostrils flaring.

Sheepishly she took her hand off his mouth and said softly, “No, I’m fine.” She then turned to Adam, who looked puzzled, and glanced briefly at Nate who seemed concerned and Felix, who was clearly amused. “It’s fine, Adam, continue please.”

Adam looked at her assessingly, before giving a brief nod and continuing. “As I was saying, if we veer northwest here and go around the park...”

Grace settled back in the chair and looked up to catch Mason still staring at her, narrow and intent.

What? she mouthed.

He pointed at her and then closed his eyes and lolled his head to the side, an exaggerated tableau of sleep.

She bit her lip to keep from giggling and shook her head, re-focusing on Adam.

Within seconds, her focus was cut short once more as she felt Mason drop down from the arm of the chair and wriggle in the seat beside her. They barely fit side by side, so she had to make room for his leg under hers as he squirmed his way closer to her.

Felix was watching them now, giddy with his amusement. Nate kept glancing over and looking away quickly. Adam was tracing a line on the map of Wayhaven in their common room and hadn’t seen the mute commotion just yet.

Soon, Grace was situated, essentially on Mason’s lap much to her chagrin, her head tucked into the admittedly very comfortable nook where his pectorals met his deltoids. He brought his hand up to toy with her hair lightly and he was so warm, so comfortable—just an unbearably pleasant extension of that safety and familiarity she felt with him when they were patrolling together.

She could feel his heart beat, a steady gentle thud under her ear. Could smell him, his unscented laundry detergent, and something else—something masculine and sweet, earthy and smoky and just intrinsically him—that scent that had already infiltrated her pillow and her top sheet and her favourite jacket—

That feeling, imbued with his scent, and with the gentle pressure of his hand that had moved from her hair down to her thigh, was like a sedative for her soul.

Of their own volition, drawn by a power she could no more easily control than she could the setting of the sun or the moon rising, her eyelids drooped down, down, down until her eyelashes brushed her cheeks.

Within seconds, her breathing evened out and soft snores filled the room.

Adam paused and turned away from the map to take in the new and unusual noise.

Mason watched with hooded eyes, daring him to make a comment. To say a word about their position or - he felt his canines tingle, a rumble deep in his throat - to try and wake her.

Instead, Adam looked resigned. Regretful, almost.

“She is tired,” he said simply as he regarded her.

Felix and Nate looked over as well, various iterations of affection and sympathy over their faces.

“We forget, sometimes,” he continued, crossing his muscular arms over his broad chest, “that she is a human among us. She does not have the stamina we do.”

“She works hard,” Mason couldn’t help but say, deliberately keeping his voice soft. “She works herself to the bone for this town. These ingrates,” he ended on a semi-snarl. “And then does it all again at night for the Agency.”

“She enjoys her work,” Nate responded pragmatically. “Though she could probably benefit from more rest time.”

“There is too much going on right now for rest.” Adam stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Though, I suppose, it’s alright if she rests for the moment.”

“Plus, I wouldn’t move her from Mason’s lap right now unless you want your head torn from your body,” Felix cackled, leaning back gleefully in his chair.

Mason shot him a stare that could wither a cactus and Felix bit his lip, still hiding a smile.

“Do you want to continue, Adam?” Nate asked. “Or should we call it a night?”

Adam looked thoughtful. “As long as she is comfortable, let’s finish up. Mason can fill her in later.”

“Oh, I’ll be happy to fill her—shh, shh shut up!” he cut his own vulgarity off with a hiss as Nate loudly groaned and Felix’s cackles unleashed themselves further. He glared at everyone. “I’ll tell her what you said,” he muttered finally, nodding towards Adam. “Let’s just get this over with.”

As Adam droned on, Mason couldn’t help but look down at the detective, her soft snores and steady heartbeat a familiar litany to his ears these days. He felt the soft firmness of her thigh under his splayed fingers. Felt the rush of air on his chest as she breathed in and out. Watched her rosy lips pout in sleep, the crescent of her dark eyelashes on a lightly freckled cheek, a light brown strand of hair flopping over one closed eye.

Her hand had come up to rest under her chin, fingers loosely curled. Absently, he brushed the hair back from her forehead and then, again without giving much thought to it, he brought his pointer finger up to stroke the soft inside of her palm gently. Her fingers jerked reflexively and closed, holding him there securely.

He felt a tug come from somewhere deep in his chest at the sight of her holding his finger like that. It felt so trusting, so innocent, this simple unconscious gesture. As though, even in sleep she wanted to keep him close.

Shaking his head abruptly to rid himself of the intrusive and unexpected thought, he renewed his focus on Adam—no, Nate, who was now talking.

He left his hand in hers, though.

*

tags: @utterlyinevitable , @ethansramsey , @otherworldlypresents , @aworldoffandoms , @raleighcarrera , @ejunkiet , @starrystarrytrouble , @terrm9 , @openheartthot , @octobereighth , @campsearchlight , @coldshrugs , @kelseaaa , @homeformyheart , @intothestrawberryjar , @magebastard , @kodysteach , @newfangledsoul , @silma-words , @lalizah , @detective-sweetheart , @lem-20 (if you don’t want to be tagged for twc, mason x detective, and/or prompts, please let me know!)

[gumnut-logic]

Where There Be Dragons (Bit 5)

Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 | Bit 4 | Bit 5

Well, this is turning into a chain of ficlets where I shove two characters together and they babble for a while. There will be some proper story telling at some point, I promise :D

This bit answers a few questions and probably could have gone further, but I’ve run out of time.

As always, many thanks to @scribbles97​ @janetm74​ and @tsarinatorment​ for all the amazing support ::hugs you all::

I hope you enjoy this thousand odd words :D

-o-o-o-

Scott stepped foot onto the bridge of Thunderbird Five, the constant hum of well-oiled machinery and busy mechanics hung in the air. It was a place of action and determination.

The wide forward steel glass ports covered almost the entire bow of the ship, supported by her cahelium infrastructure. At the moment, they were draped in an almost-black, mercurial, midnight blue as John took his ‘bird deep enough for a good undetectable cruising depth so they could clear the shipping lanes.

The interior light was dim here, kept low for ease of viewing both inside and outside those massive windows. What little light that made it down to these depths from the fading sunlight above flickered gently, giving the room an unearthly light.

This was the command deck of Thunderbird Five, the name inscribed in large letters beneath those viewports. It was an intimate place for Scott. He had paced this wide deck many a time, John’s eyes following him back and forth.

But it wasn’t the command centre of International Rescue. That title belonged to the comm room - a comfortable lounge behind the bridge dominated by a large round table and cushioned chairs. That was where his brothers gathered during an incident. That was where the order to deploy was given.

Scott’s cane clunked solidly on the metal deck plates. John glanced over at him. His brother stood in his uniform behind the big wooden wheel that directed his ‘bird through the oceans. Like Scott’s uniform, his brother’s was blue, but both his baldric and the patch on his shoulder were Indian yellow in contrast to Scott’s command silver-grey. John’s specialisation was communications and International Rescue’s technical infrastructure. The man was a genius and Scott held great pride in his brother’s capabilities.

Virgil may have built the majority of the detectors, receivers and transmitters, but John had conceived and created the prototypes. The technical specialist stretched the laws of physics and took them to new heights. The fact International Rescue’s agents could connect across the entirety of the planet was purely because of John’s skill.

But as always, it was when his brothers combined their skills that they truly shone. The incident with the Eos automaton had seen John lose his left eye. It was one of the reasons Scott would never trust that sweet-talking pile of spare parts. John could have died. Thankfully, their grandmother had almost magical fingers like her engineer grandson where it came to the human body. It had been close, but his brother had survived.

And between John and Virgil they had built the eye.

A brass eyebrow arched at him, the mechanical lid blinking as if it had life. The mechanics focussed on him with a faint whirr and John smiled just a little.

“Plotting her demise again?”

Scott rolled his own eyes. “I do think of things other than Eos, you know.”

“Oh, I know.” But his brother’s smile was far too smug.

The commander grunted and turned back towards the viewports, leaning a little heavier on his cane.

John snorted. “The detectors read good weather ahead. We should make the West Indies in good time.”

“Good.” Beneath his feet he could feel the fine vibrations of Five’s massive rear propellers. Shaped somewhat like one of Gordon’s manta rays, Five was wide and flat, but huge, the largest of all the Thunderbirds.

She was designed to be a base, a mobile headquarters from where the other four Thunderbirds could launch. His own ‘bird, alongside Virgil’s Two, were nestled beneath her dorsal fin, ready to launch into the air. Five would surface and redirect her great propeller system back into the depths as her sisters pushed off from her spine.

Once they were airborne, she would close up and resubmerge, disappearing into the waves.

Four, when not being carried by Two, exited via Five’s belly. It was only Three that required a launch from a land-based site.

Initially, anyway. There had been plans.

“You’re sure of those coordinates?” It was a redundant question. One he had already asked multiple times. He wasn’t one for indecision, but the cost of this one was his father’s trust and that hurt ever so much.

They were basically hijacking the entirety of International Rescue’s equipment, give or take whatever their father and Hiram had in storage or development. This was something his grief-stricken, authoritarian father was unlikely to ever forgive.

And it went against every grain in Scott’s body to disobey Jeff Tracy.

But this was his little brother. If there was even a chance he had survived crashing his experimental spacecraft in the South Pacific, Scott had to find him.

Yes, the chance was ridiculously slim.

But it was still a chance.

“Scott, I am sure.  One thousand miles north of the colonies of New Zealand. There are a number of islands in the area, despite its remoteness. I’ve shown you the maps.”

He certainly had. They were still scattered all over the table in the comm room.

Scott swallowed and straightened his spine. “Yes, thank you, John.” He glanced up at his brother. “You need to speak to Gordon.”

His brother’s lips tightened and he looked away. “He knows where to find me.”

A sigh and Scott strode over quietly. He reached up a hand and placed it on John’s shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“It should have been me aboard that ship. It was my experiment. My attempt to reach space.”

“It was Alan’s choice. He knew the risk going in.” Scott squeezed John’s shoulder gently. “Besides, how do you think you could have stopped him?” Alan had been absolutely rabid about this project. They had succeeded on multiple occasions in achieving orbit with unmanned mechanisms. Logic had led them to adapting their plans for a third air-based Thunderbird to a space orientated vehicle. Hiram’s safety record was meticulous. They had gotten used to success.

Perhaps God had decided it was time for a reminder.

Please let them not take his little brother as payment for that lesson.

-o-o-o-

Next

[popurikat]

Ruin Teresa Agnes career. Aka: the Teresa analysis. Take all the time you need >:3

Okay I’m saying this right off the bat in case someone who stans this character misses the point above, but well I hate Teresa Agnes’ character in the maze series, both movie and book. However, in my analysis I will try to explain why her character misses the mark both as a villain and as a sympathetic character. So, to analyze her in depth, I’m putting this into parts under the read below. HEADS UP! As of now this analysis will exclude Death Cure Novel review as I have not finished that one, though it will mention one major spoiler I have been informed of from that book that I need to add for the sake of her character; other than that I will be discussing the other three novels before it (yes that is including the prequel Fever code) and the three movies from the series in broad ideas as I am not about to scavenge for quotes like I did in my last long post… well at least not as many.

Part 1: Teresa the master manipulator

No matter which way you look at it, Teresa has a way to bend others to her will, whether we blame WCKD for teaching her so well; or she used it as a means of survival, the idea still stands. Though she is extremely skilled in combat, especially at using spears and knives, Teresa’s biggest skill is her silver tongue, she can lie her way out of anything. Most evident is her betrayal in Scorch when she has such a good poker face that she not only convinces group B that Thomas is the problem they have to eradicate to get WCKD’s good side, but she also doesn’t hesitate to maim Thomas to the point of threatening to kill him: “Get in the room or I’ll hit you again. I swear I’ll keep doing it till you pass out or bleed to death” (Ch. 51). /sarcasm/ Charming ain’t she? /end of sarcasm/ The thing about lying though is that sometimes it backfires, for instance in the case of Group B, Harriet and Sonya hear Thomas out on why they shouldn’t kill him like Teresa asked, and when they listen and observe him they realize that Teresa is the worst and side with him; which in turn makes Teresa have to take drastic measures which involve getting Thomas alone with her to finish her duties to WCKD. Anyways, she even goes as far as to cement her betrayal by kissing Aris and crushing Thomas’ feelings by saying they were never a thing; she does this mind you without so much as breaking this character she builds up even though later she tries to say she still cares for Thomas. She is so convincing that Thomas has stated that: “Thomas had never heard such arrogance from her. She was either a really good actress or had started going crazy. Gained a split personality or two” (Ch. 45, Scorch). So yes, Teresa is too good at lying to the point I can say she can align as a Pathological Liar because she’s deceptive, goal-oriented in order to get HER way meaning she will not tolerate anyone interfering with her methods, she disregards the feelings of everyone around her, and she is constantly tweaking her excuses to adjust to the situations at hand. She is so good at lying she oozes self confidence when elaborating her defense by staring directly at the person she is talking to, unblinking, and will lash out in defense if someone calls her out on any inconsistencies. 

Mind you this isn’t the first instance we get at how well she turns the story to her favor. In Fever Code, she is the one to help put the Gladers in the maze and erase Thomas’ memories, which transfers in Maze Runner with how she openly gaslights everyone by pretending she doesn’t remember much about WCKD’s doings even though her memories are the only ones implied to be in tact based on that email she wrote in Fever Code: “I’ve just said my goodbye to Thomas, and he’s now in the Glade, safe and sound. Tomorrow, it will be my turn. Dr. Paige has asked me to send a final note to everyone, sharing my thoughts. I’m more than happy to do so. I feel good about the plan to leave my and Aris’s memories intact. You need someone in each group with whom you can communicate and plan during the phases of the Trials”(FC epilogue) and also based on this specific tid bit in Maze Runner where she slips she knows more than she lets on: “Though I guess a Griever can’t squeeze through this window, so I’ll be happy, right?” The mention of Grievers surprised him -- he didn’t remember talking about them to her yet. ‘Teresa are you sure you’ve forgotten everything?”(Ch.37, pg.246). Griever knowledge in general for Teresa in Maze seems to be code talk for “I am here to cause trouble, I kept my memories'' because during the sequence with the fiasco with the invasion of the species in Group A’s field, Teresa casually wakes up after the event’s commotion subsides earning Newt’s suspicion that maybe the map fire was not done on accident. Anyways, in keeping things down low and having an advantage in memory recollection, she ensures Thomas and co. don’t recall events correctly unless it's vital to her mission. And yes, Teresa will use violence and anger if necessary; she is perfectly fine with murder...”So we’re just going to kill them all? [...] They’ll die anyway [...] No, Tom, It’s be tough now or everyone dies later”(Ch. 47, Fever Code). Or even this small aside on her stance on death overall: “This is kind of fun,’ Teresa whispered to Thomas. ‘Walking along with my new friend.’ He looked at her in bemused disbelief. ‘Really? You drop that bombshell about kids dying and now you act like it’s no big deal? You’re so weird.’ He tried to make a joke out of it to hide just how horrified he’s been by her second question” (Ch. 9, pg. 55, FC). And she has killed, mind you, yes they were cranks, but they are still humanly conscious. Thomas in comparison shows pity about the fact that they were still human, Teresa didn’t bat an eye. And now, you might say “Hey Popuri, you know, she’s just willing to kill if it means saving everyone else right?” to which I go, sure she’s stated that if it means saving the rest it doesn’t matter if thousands or so die. However, she is also clear that she only cares about Thomas’ survival in specific, no one else; which immediately gets falsified by her “lie” in Scorch, thus she will kill anyone if need be no matter how close they are. What I’m saying is that not even Teresa has a clear path in why she manipulates everyone when she can so easily be convinced to make elaborate murder scenarios at the snap of WCKD’s fingers. She claims it's to save her “crush” but will not hesitate to shed his blood and drag him across the desert. 

She claims it's to help WCKD, that WCKD is good, but she has bore witness time and time again that the facility makes countless errors and knows there's no REAL cure available … and Teresa is a smart kid, so why continue believing a hopeless façade? Because she's desperate to cling to some hope? No. Teresa doesn’t do the whole hope thing, she's convinced WCKD is good period, there's nothing else. So, even if there is no evidence anymore she will fight tooth and nail for something she herself is trapped in because no one will want to be there for the girl who treated her only connections as poorly as WCKD treated her. Therefore, is it because she can’t help it then? I can only imagine that's the case. She’s willingly this puppet for WCKD, she could’ve escaped them any time she liked like Thomas and co. did, but she prefers to stay on the burning train even if it means her own demise because she refuses to admit any of her actions were wrong, the truth will NOT set her free because she cannot confront it. 

Moving forward, I wanna delve more into the whole telepathy dealio she specifically shares with Thomas and we actually never really learn if she can talk to others as she evades the question when it does arrive in book. The only certain thing is that if you have a chip, you can talk using your mind. Now this would be a fine plot device, but in the hands of someone who wants to control your every move and thought, well....”Thomas, this is Teresa. He was going crazy. He was actually going crazy. It was the oldest and most common symptom -- hearing voices in your head. ‘Uh...’, he said aloud. Is this working? Is this working? The last words landed between his eyes like a thunderbolt. The pain knocked his legs out from under him and he collapsed onto the floor. Never had the world felt so fluid beneath him, as if nothing solid existed, no form, no substance“ (Ch.20 , pg. 112, FC). So first things first, Thomas hates it when he gets a mind message, he feels extreme pain when someone tries it, this is recurrent throughout the series. He has told her a few times not to contact him through that method, but it's their little secret and besides, if he told anyone who would believe him? “Teresa shrugged. ‘You didn’t tell anyone, did you? They’d think we’re crazy“(Ch.36, Maze Runner). So we have a situation where Teresa has a huge way of overpowering Thomas, she can send images to his head without his consent and yell into his mind even if it means it hurts him. And the kicker? She doesn’t teach him how to use it on purpose. And when he tries to contact her? Well depending on her mood she can either be flirty or... well this: “Teresa? A pause. Teresa? A longer pause. Teresa! He shouted it mentally, his whole body tensing with effort. Teresa! Where are you? Please answer me! Why aren’t you trying to contact me? Ter- /GET OUT OF MY HEAD!/ The words exploded inside his mind, so vivid and so strangely audible within his skull that he felt lances of pain behind his eyes and in his ears. He sat up in bed, then stood. It was her. It was definitely her. Teresa? He pressed the first two fingers of both hands against his temples. Teresa? /WHOEVER YOU ARE , GET OUT OF MY SHUCK HEAD!/ Thomas stumbled backward until he sat down once again on the bed. His eyes were closed as he concentrated. Teresa, what are you talking about? It’s me. Thomas. Where are you? /SHUT UP!/ It was her, he had no doubt, but her mental voice was full of fear and anger /JUST SHUT UP! I DON’T KNOW WHO YOU ARE! LEAVE ME ALONE!/ But, Thomas began completely at a loss [...] /LEAVE ME ALONE, OR I’LL HUNT YOU DOWN AND CUT YOUR THROAT. I SWEAR IT. “ (Ch.8, FC). *sarcasm* ah yes, nothing says true love like a death threat that actually comes to near fruition later in that same book and pretending to not know that person only to later, upon meeting Thomas acting like a sobbing mess, kiss him and disappear...she sure knew him then huh? *end of sarcasm* Having a power imbalance in a relationship is, you know, not good, especially when you’re making it so you gaslight the person anytime they know something you don’t want them to or to have control over the situation. Teresa does this OFTEN. To the point that it makes Thomas so emotionally attached to her he finds it hard to admit he doesn’t need her, even when he’s been badly hurt. 

 Part 2: Your past does not excuse your bad actions in the present. Period.

Now let me clear something up, PAST ABUSE does not CONDONE you to HURT OTHERS in turn, let alone allows you to use it as an excuse to justify wrong actions. I am aware Teresa, aka Deedee, was abandoned due to an outbreak of the flare at an early age; had her name changed, was confined to a room with Thomas as her only friend who was the same age as her, and openly manipulated by adults to believe WCKD is good. But you know who else goes through the same treatment? LITERALLY EVERY KID EXPOSED TO THIS EXPERIMENT! AND THEY DON’T THREATEN EACH OTHER IF THEY DON’T GET THEIR WAY OR KILL EACH OTHER. And this is not said in order to justify that everyone with the same experiences will have the same reactions, I understand stressors and trauma affect everyone differently and acknowledge everyone needs a different support system. But like, for peeps sake, Thomas who is Teresa’s exact foil as a narrative play to show that they are more alike than they realize which is the flimsiest proof to grab at as to why they need each other to an extent; literally has the exact same story cut and paste from her and he has more empathy and compassion to those around him, than Teresa ever shows. WHY? If the idea is to show Teresa has hardened from her own experiences, she should in theory act more like Brenda, a renegade civilian that isn’t soft for anyone except the boy who will save her. I know in my explanation I compare Thomas and Teresa a lot, but it's hard not to when Teresa, though having Aris as another buddy who is also in on the whole WCKD scheme, still decides to CLING to Thomas to be her saving grace. And the thing is, even if she only ever trusted Thomas in this whole experiment, then why not confide in him or tell him what is happening? She doesn’t LISTEN to anything he says to her in turn. YES, Teresa knows more about the situation as a whole, YES she is capable of doing things by herself, but she never trusts anyone. You’d think she would be more open to talking to the kids her age or be the quiet type because she knows what will happen to them all if they don’t comply; but no, I can’t even describe her personality other than stoic one moment and complete chaos in the next, and she does that switch VERY often. But sure, she prefers to skew half truths and put everyone in danger because ….WCKD? She’s supposed to be the intellectual one and she doesn’t know how to spread her capabilities, no wonder Brenda is introduced in the second book.

It's also incomprehensible to me why she feels it necessary to follow WCKD in general when she was the first to know of all their evil doings? “They were at the door when Teresa stopped and asked Dr. Leavitt a question. Two, actually. And it was enough to change the man’s demeanor completely. ‘What’s a swipe trigger? And is it true that seven kids died during the implant surgeries?’ The questions stunned Thomas. He turned to look at Teresa as the doctor fumbled for an answer. ‘How...’ the man began, then stopped, realizing at the same moment what Thomas did: Teresa had stumbled on something major. Something true”(Ch. 9, pg.54, FC). You’d think she would have the maturity to one up WCKD and knock them from the inside out to save the one she “loves'' but she doesn’t, instead she abides by the facility...even when knowing they are the ones who made the Flare in the first place. Call me naïve, but wouldn’t it make sense that if she wants to help stop the Flare than it would be in her best interest to hold Ava at an inch of her life (and Ratman) until she fesses up how to reverse the Flare, only to then realize oops there never was a possibility for a cure ~, but in knowing this finally be rid of the one thing holding her back? Again, someone can argue that hey, she thinks the people who made it HAVE to eventually find the termination and either way what possible choice does she have when her own manipulators control her? But remember, in the end it's always been a huge experiment to eliminate the human populace, and that's motive enough to rebel and/or snap at the hand that feeds when it's gone too far. EVERYONE has a breaking point mentally and physically, THOMAS BREAKS DOWN SEVERAL TIMES IN THE SPAN OF THE SERIES BECAUSE HE CAN’T MAKE SENSE OF THE EXPERIMENTS AND THE REASON TO CONTINUE SURVIVING ONLY ON WCKDS TERMS. And it drives me insane that Teresa would openly keep the Gladers from knowing about their procedures when she has known the longest from everyone else! Oh? You want evidence that Teresa keeps her memories intact and lies about ever losing them, sure! Here, have a morsel: “Teresa..., he started to say, but then stumbled a void. He had no idea how to respond. Did you....did you already know this stuff? /I’ve heard rumors./ And you never told me? He was stunned. How could she have known this and never said anything? She was his best friend. The first person he went to with everything. /I just don’t see the point. Yes, we have reason to hate these people. But how is dwelling on the past going to help anybody? The solution is what matters./ Thomas had never been so blindsided in his life.../I’m really tired, Tom. Can we talk about it tomorrow?/ She was gone from his mind before he could respond [...] The next day Teresa refused to talk about it, emphasizing that she’d rather focus on the future than the past Dr. Paige also blew it off, saying that those decisions had been made well before her time. it was almost like they were both determined to forget” (Ch. 43, pg. 239, FC). TALK ABOUT BECOMING THE ONE THING THAT YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO OVERCOME. Like goodness sake, Teresa was part of the prep and launch of putting each Glader into the Maze and she never doubted it, never fussed over how this was bad. The excuse of “this is for their own good, my own good, and the world’s” can only go so far when you are in an environment that is full of violence and trauma, you expect me to not believe Teresa just never broke down and truly analyzed how she can use her lies to one up her own abusers? She’s supposed to be this “empowering” female character and she can’t even get THAT right. 

Part 3: How come the films did it better?

The film actually humanizes her a lot more and makes her motives at least justifiable in a fit of protecting the one you love. I know a lot of people dislike her character in the movies because it's more frail and sympathetic, but it was a very good way to justify her motives and plan out her actions from point A to point B. What do I mean by that? Let's take a look. Film Teresa enters the Maze without the ability to communicate to Thomas through telepathy, she still has her memories and she is still in close contact with WCKD, that much is still the same. Her motive though is to get everyone out of the maze and into stage 2 where the facility can round up the ones who have been viewed to be immune through the Maze Trials. So far so good, but pretty on par with the book right? Well, here is where it differs for the best. On the last act of Scorch, Teresa tells Thomas WITH SENTIMENT, no more lies and no more hiding that she contacted WCKD because it was needed to keep Thomas alive and well. WOW, notice how she doesn’t emotionally manipulate him and her innocent nature of trusting the scientists of her world to cure everyone actually leads her to be more sympathetic and relatable to the audience? In Death Cure, she doesn’t expect Thomas or ANYONE to forgive her for her actions and in fact takes her actions at face value. This Teresa is more understanding of the phrase “You can change, but those you’ve wronged have no obligation to forgive you” than book Teresa ever will. To the point that when she finds Thomas in the city and has bore witness to the startling realization that there indeed could be no cure cause her patient flares back up; of which is intentionally a little girl to reflect without showing that she can relate to the Flare stripping away her childhood, she then betrays WCKD by allowing the Gladers to infiltrate the facility, thus redeeming her when she dies in the explosion. Thus, making her in the film's eyes an anti-hero. As Skquill once told me, “Film teresa really did want to create a better future, and wanted to help people and that's what I like about film teresa. It didn't work. It literally blew up in her face. But, she tried, and she saved Thomas in the end.”

The only reason I don’t like Teresa even in the film is because she is kind of a wet blanket there, barely expresses any emotion beyond stoic token girl that cries sometimes, and she could’ve saved herself the whole betrayal arc if she just learned to better communicate her intentions instead of sobbing pathetically every time no one wants anything to do with her for her ill doings.Not to mention she still maintains her personality to a degree from the book (just call her diet Teresa really) because once both enter the sequence in Scorch where they ran out of pawns to move around they claim that they did what they had to do and they wouldn’t change a thing, they’d do it again if they could. It is only when both are at death’s door with no other choice that they give in some noble sacrifice at a chance for redemption, which is well too little too late. And in the opposing corner of knowing some people blame Thomas for not just allowing himself to be experimented on since the beginning, my rebuttal to be fair is that Teresa just again, sucked at explaining herself and the intentions of WCKD until it was deserving of a literal showdown bloodbath that evidently Tommy boy had to take defense to and threaten his life if anyone else died due to miscommunications. ALSO, IT'S HIS OWN BODY, HE CAN DO WHAT HE WANTS WITH IT INSTEAD OF HAVING OTHERS DICTATE WHAT HE NEEDS TO DO.

BUT ANYWAYS, book Teresa in comparison has even less characterization, I am sorry to say. SHE'S BARELY IN SCORCH AS IS, only coming out toward the climax because before that she is crying and kissing Thomas before going MIA for 45 chapters. Ouch. And when she does appear? She purposefully causes trouble that leads to essentially no where, we could’ve gotten to the safe haven way sooner without her interference.

Part 4: Is Book Teresa a good female character?

 The simple answer? No.

The slightly longer answer? Even if I were to place her as the villain of the story she’s...not that good? Mostly because again, she acts as a puppet for a rich, governmental organization that basically implants how she should think and act. YET, somehow she is still smart, brave, lethal, and *ahem* UNBELIEVABLY BEAUTIFUL WITH HER LONG HAIR THAT IS BASICALLY DESCRIBED THE EXACT SAME WAY AS BRENDA’S, WHO FYI IS THE SLIGHTLY BETTER FEMALE LEAD THAT STILL CAN’T HOLD A COIN TO SONYA OR HARRIET (the background characters) THOUGH. I also need to say plainly, she has no gradual growth, she remains by her ideals and thinks she's right constantly in all but one book...which is one book too late and thus made meaningless. By no means is Teresa a mary sue, yet she still manages to be a stereotype in Maze Runner: “If you’re going to decipher a hidden code from a complex set of different mazes, I’m pretty sure you’ll need a girl’s brain running the show”(ch.43); then again going most of the book in Scorch missing, and then unceremoniously gets crushed by a boulder in Death Cure as her final hurrah for all the bs she caused isn’t really a means to become a memorable character. This is the female supportive character I’m supposed to relate to and or praise for her dastardly, cunning intellect?  If I were looking for a strong female with various flaws and a tragic end I would saunter over to Hunger Games’ Katniss instead. Teresa fails as a character the moment that her sole purpose is to be so emotionally/physically attached to Thomas that her whole character gets washed down the gutter so badly that Kill Order had to be made to justify her actions through a tragic backstory. In no way or form was I able to entertain this character as a favorite because she is everything I don’t want to be or befriend, and even as again, a “villain” she doesn’t exactly do much as the real masterminds are Ava and her cronies who MADE the disease and the trials. Even going as far as calling her an anti-hero feels off because none of her actions deliberately affect the plot or progress of our main character’s story. But that's kind of the thing with D*shner’s characterization of females overall? They’re either brutish or simply there. I don’t think any of them even pass the Bechdel Test. 

Final thoughts:

I don’t like Teresa, I would personally fight her in a Denny’s parking lot at 3am if I could. I recall saying multiple times how she should just “shut up” as I read Maze and Scorch because most of her quotes are not memorable nor important. But in no way do I blame the character for the angst and tragedy of the novels overall. D*shner just...doesn’t seem to know how to make honest character growth and a decent plot, thus, in turn the story and its leads suffer tremendously as the narrative gets stretched out. (me yelling in the distance about how Crank Palace was made for clout). HOWEVER, In no way should my analysis stop people from finding Teresa as interesting or “cool”, I actually ENCOURAGE anyone that stans her to explain why to me because I personally don’t understand why beyond thinking “I just think she's chaotically evil and her treachery is fun to witness”. COOL IF THAT'S THE REASON OR EVEN IF YOU RE-WROTE HER TO BE BETTER! I just personally don't find her presence necessary for plot progression or as a love interest in general. It in fact sucks that she gets essentially replaced by Brenda almost as soon as the opportunity arises. In turn though, for others who don’t like her either as much as me, feel free to add onto this post any other “Teresa sucks and here's why” moments as I know there's a lot of moments out there to quote or paraphrase. Thanks for reading~

[anxiouspotatorants]

Alright for those who have seen my Mal character analysis post here is part 2. For more context see the intro (and if you, want the whole thing) of said last post. But once again some disclaimers first: I haven’t read the original trilogy and use this to my advantage when analysing Alina based on her show-character alone. I do ship Malina (at least at the writing of this post), so that might influence my interpretation. This is just my opinion, so feel free to disagree. And spoilers for all of season 1 of Shadow and Bone.

Part 2: Alina

Now what I have seen so far when it comes to critiquing Alina, is that her character relies too much on Mal. She mentions him constantly while at the Little Palace, and once reunited with him practically attaches her own hip to his. Some argue that her growth was stunted by their reunion, and that we don’t get to see enough of who she is apart from Mal. And uh, yeah I disagree. It’s not that I find this argument inconceivable, just that after seeing the season twice I don’t really think that opinion holds water. Who is Alina? That is quite literally the mission statement of the season. Alina goes from an outcast cartographer with a small but somewhat reliable group of friends to finding out she’s not only grisha but a special kind of grisha. And from then on she basically has multiple identity crises only to end the season mentally preparing for a new roller coaster of identities. So let me try to map it out.

The power-reveal might happen in episode 1, but we actually find out a lot about who Alina is and was pre-reveal. She’s an orphan and social outcast due to her mixed race status (being half Shu in Ravka is not exactly easy). She’s had one friend throughout her childhood, Mal, and managed to find comradery in her cartographer team. From a young age she has had a talent for drawing, and Ana Kuya encouraged young Alina to direct this skill towards cartography, as this would provide her one of the safer roles in the army, which Alina was doomed to join from the start. As a child she was not popular, but her friendship with Mal shows a girl who was brave, loyal and determined. She was willing to up the stakes to protect her loved one (see: bully scene). As a young woman she still seems to keep that fighting spirit, but has also grown a larger sense of humour. She jokes around with Mal and their friends, but she’s also clearly insecure — repeating her question about Mal’s stories and her decision to hide her jealousy over Zoya suggest as much.

Post-reveal, Alina has to deal with a lot of different people saying a lot of different things about who she is. The grisha soldiers view her as a form of redemption for their people. Her former superiors and First Army soldiers view her as grisha-business. Mal, although Alina never finds out, tries to double down on his pre-established view of Alina until he sees the test. The king makes it clear to Alina that he sees her as a tool to reunite the two Ravkas. And the Darkling tries to create an entirely new narrative for Alina: she’s his other half, his one equal in the world, the one he has been waiting for that will right his his ancestor’s wrongs. Then there’s the Apparat who introduces her to the religious aspect of her powers, and Baghra who first treats her as unworthy of her powers and then as an unready foil to the Darkling. Alina has to navigate a lot of roles at the same time: saint, freak, saviour, tool, rival, enemy, heroine, lover, royal subject, the list goes on. It is through the combined impressions of Baghra and Mal that Alina starts to find herself again. Baghra consistently tries to get Alina to become her own person in harmony with her powers («who are you holding back for?»), but Alina initially twists this pep-talk into shifting her focus from Mal to the Darkling. Once Baghra reveals the Darkling’s true identity and motivations, Alina finally has to make the choice to go out on her own without allies. She outmanouvers the crows and gets in altercations with soldiers before running into the woods and into Mal. Mal’s presence reminds her of who Alina is at her core: an underdog with a lionheart. And the thing is, once reunited with Mal, Alina genuinely starts to change. She isn’t just returning to banter or insecurities or relying on support. She confronts Mal on his assumed silence and pre-established view of grisha. And she doesn’t give up on her new goal and run away with him — she insists on finding the stag, defeating the Darkling and destroying the Fold. She has found her goal and is following it free from the expected roles that have been thrust on her. At the end of the season, Alina might be back to her and Mal against the world, but she is a different woman. She is more confident and more goal-oriented. She has directed her stubborness towards a specific mission, and is preparing to have to battle all the roles that will be thrust upon her in future seasons (see: Zoya’s speech about Alina becoming a martyr before she becomes a saint). Who is Alina? She’s a fighter facing her new bully head on.

But there are two other elements I find important to rant about when it comes to Alina’s season 1 journey. The first is her connection to Mal. The two have been tight since they found each other as children in the orphanage. Alina suppressed her powers unknowingly for years and sabotaged her grisha test out of fear that a positive result would separate her and Mal. She makes it clear in later episodes that this fear of separation is what motivated her actions. But I don’t think it was about just Mal. I think Alina is terrified of being alone. And once Alina is brought to the Little Palace, she has no one. Not Mal, who was denied even a quick goodbye and whos letters are kept away from Alina. Not her cartographer friends, who all died either in the Fold or, in Alexei’s case, alone in a cellar at the hands of Kerch mobsters. She once again faces alienation, not just about her race but her commoner-soldier status, and quickly attaches herself to Genya, who is one of the few to show her kindness. Once she has been made to believe that Mal doesn’t care about her she also gets closer to the Darkling and recenters her world from around one man to the other. She feels pressure to perform as is expected of her to gain acceptance from what she now has to assume is her new home. Alina attaches herself to whoever seems decent enough because it is safer than being alone, especially in a world like the one she lives in. When it is then revealed that the Darkling has manipulated her the whole time, Alina starts to question everything again and journeys out on her own for possibly the first time. It is Mal who tracks her down and helps her out of a predicament, thus providing safe harbour for Alina again. Alina doesn’t just run back to him and regress as a character. As written above, her journey to episode 6 has impacted her to the point where her and Mal’s relationship changes too. The casually joking tone they used to have is much more subdued, and the two have to confront and open up to each other about revelations and feelings. They apologize to each other and show compassion. This isn’t a giant leap from their relationship pre-power reveal, but it still stands in contrast to their tense silences and evasions in episode 1. To put it this way: they bullshit each other a lot less now. And what is important to note is that Alina reunites with Mal for a reason. As implied by the last paragraph, a lot of people have a lot of expectations for Alina. Mal is (as many have pointed out before me) the one person who always sees her as a person instead of a concept. Where others see a saint or a weapon, he sees his friend. Where others see a threat or an unworthy vessel, he sees a girl who stands up to bullies and protects her loved ones. Alina and Mal bring out each others’ humanity, and that is a crucial thing to have in a world that sees them as inhuman: whether as prophetic legends on pedestals or anonymous cannon fodder.

The other point I want to bring up is that I think Alina has a second mission in season 1: navigating who to trust. We know that in the beginning the ones she trusts are Mal and the cartographers. Once in the Little Palace, she starts out by putting knives under pillows and only revealing emotional vulnerability in private. But she quickly starts to place her trust in others. She considers Genya a friend, the Darkling an ally who could be something more, and Marie, Nadia, Ivan and Fedyor as companions. She even becomes receptive to the Apparat from his lesson about Morozova. On the flip side she has an understandable feud with Zoya, and an equally understandable hot-and-cold relationship to Baghra. By the end of the season, Marie is dead and Nadia and Fedyor are nowhere to be seen. Meanwhile the Darkling is revealed as the true villain with Ivan as his underling and Genya his spy. Even The Apparat is implied to become a future enemy. Baghra and Zoya, on the other hand, have proven themselves to be more helpful to Alina — Baghra by exposing the Darkling, and Zoya by turning against him and helping Alina in the final Fold battle. And those Kerch crows who attempted to kidnap her ended up playing just as important a role in her rescue and in letting her go to continue her journey freely. Alina has spent the season learning that people really are not what they seem. Those who call themselves friends of you could be locking you in a cage, and those who wished you harm could turn out to have morals and redeem themselves. And Mal has an entire trust-arc for Alina of his own: he goes from her one friend to someone she thinks has left her behind, only to return and prove his loyalty and how worthy he is of her trust. I think this theme is something that will follow Alina in the next season, especially since she and Mal will be more vulnerable than before. She’ll need to learn when to keep her guard up and who is worthy of her softness.

So yeah, if I haven’t made myself clear enough I think Alina has a massive arc this season and that Mal doesn’t hinder this arc but rather is a reflection of it. Mal doesn’t regress her character, but rather reminds her who she is in opposition to who she is expected and told to be. And being a protagonist who interacts with a lot of characters, she is set up to have just as much of a journey (if not a bigger one) in future seasons. Is Mal going to be part of that? Probably. But he will continue to function as someone holding a mirror up to Alina reminding her of who she is. And Alina will continue to grow and deal with conflict as any protagonist should.

[selfwriting-sugarquills]

Something more infinite (George Weasley x reader) ch. 3

Chapter 3: Sticks and Stones will break my bones, and so will you because you knocked me off your broom, you maniac! 

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 (final) |

Word count: 2.4K 

Warnings: Light swearing, TW: broken bones, injury. 

In the midst of the busy O.W.L oriented fifth year, you were so grateful for flying lessons. At this point you were being buried in books and assignments to the point of having to reduce your prank wars with the twins to the weekends only (which was easier to carry out now that they’d seemingly lost their map sometime over Christmas). As the snow began to melt away and the spring was coming along, so were the exams and you had so much on your plate you were afraid you’d choke. Flying lessons were a breath of fresh air, literally, since they were spent away from the dusty halls and classrooms out on the grounds and on the quidditch pitch, which was where you were now. Madam Hooch understood that her fifth year students were more than fed up with information from all their other subjects and since flying was not an exam subject, she’d softened on your class during this late afternoon class. She’d allowed you to part up into teams and play amateur quidditch games in a mini-quidditch cup. 

The students from the houses decided on their teams quickly, since only the most competitive students were up for playing, the rest of the students seemed to welcome this chance of sitting still and concentrating on something that wasn’t reading for 90 minutes with open arms. The teams were mixed houses, and originally when it had been announced that the lesson was going to be spent on quidditch, you’d planned on sitting back and zoning out so hard you’d forget where you were, maybe take a nap, either way, you were not intending on playing. 

At least until George and Fred Weasley loudly joined a team. There was a sort of hush over the conversation, Madam Hooch called out for a chaser for the team opposing the twin’s team. No one wanted to play. People were well aware of the twin’s affinity for quidditch, even you had to admit that they were talented beaters, and you fully understood why none of your classmates were particularly interested in facing off with bludgers sent by them right before the end of year exams. So how you managed to volunteer yourself was unknown even to you. But there you were, on a broom, ready for take off. George looked positively giddy, and you wished you’d volunteered earlier as beater. You’d love to have a bat to retaliate with. You don’t show it, but the knowledge of George’s skills as a beater, and the fact that you don’t have a single way of keeping yourself from being hit by an iron ball pelted towards you is your flying skills makes you a little nervous. You’re not a bad flyer, but you’re not on the quidditch team for a reason. You try to brush off the fear as Madam Hooch blows her whistle and starts the game. The game isn’t as high speed as the offical quidditch games, since most of the teams are just regular, extremely exhausted students, which you’re thankful for. You do your best to keep up and actually manage to almost score before the bludgers come at you. Fred seems to be targeting people at random, mostly trying to get players away from the goal posts, but George only seems to have eyes for you, even when you don’t have the quaffle. Luckily for you, you manage to dodge the bludgers well enough by attempting to stay far away from George, though this doesn’t seem to make him focus on anyone else. When you assist in your team scoring and a bludger zooms by your ear so close to your head you nearly fall off you broom, you become fed up. You speed towards George, 

“Would you fuck off?” You yell at him, he grins back at you, he hasn’t even broken a sweat yet while you can feel how flushed your cheeks are, same as the rest of your team, for some reason this makes you even more annoyed, 

“Why? I’m just doing my job?” he replies, 

“Y/n!” Someone yells and suddenly there’s a quaffle being thrown at you which you catch. There’s a split second which feels like an eternity where you and George look at each other, then he looks at the quaffle and a smirk appears on his face which genuinely makes you uncomfortable. This is not the same expression he’s worn whilst tormenting you in ways that could easily be described as childish teasing. No, this smirk is pure malice, and you know all too well what he plans on. The second long eternity ends and you speed off, swearing under your breath. You’re never volunteering for a game of quidditch against George again. First a bludger attempts to knock you off your broom but you’ve seen that coming so you do a spin and avoid it, what you haven’t expected is George appearing at your side, trying to push you away from the goal posts by blocking you. You’re used to him blocking you in general though, and you’re not having this. You’re not going to let him win. You don’t care what it takes; he’s not defeating you. Even if he has to knock you off your broom. And he does have to, because when you push into him in an attempt to signal “hey, I sort of meant that ‘fuck off’ thing I said earlier.” He pushes back. And there’s a slight error in your calculations, because you’ve forgotten that George is not only taller than you, he’s also stronger. A lot stronger. His shoulder knocks the wind out of you as you try to stay on your broom, hold on to the quaffle and not steer into the spectator stands. But you’re still hanging on. You’re not down yet. So you decide to push back again, and before he can knock you off your broom you dive underneath him, in an attempt to escape on the other side of him, if you could do that you could score. Here’s the thing though: George notices what you’re doing, from the years of playing quidditch, he’s become quite good at recognising manoeuvres before people even do them, and you’re a beginner, which means your moves are obvious. So as you appear on the other side of him, before he even registers what he’s doing, he spins and kicks out, as he would in any regular quidditch game, his foot knocking you off your broom in a swift but forceful movement. 

And everything seems to slow down as you fall, letting the quaffle go. You don’t register anything as you fall, other than the very notion that you’re falling and then the conclusion that if you’re falling, you’ll probably also land. And you just sort of hope you won’t die or break anything too important. You do land, on the sand, with a thump that shakes your bones and reverberates through your every cell. Your vision blurs as everything happens very quickly and very slowly at the same time. In this blurry version of the world, people land around you in slow motion though they seem to appear by your side almost instantly. Madam Hooch’s voice is ringing in your ears. Someone asks if you’re alright. You feel yourself nod, then wince as the pain registers in your shoulder and arm. Then the rest of your body follows suit. Madam Hooch and some classmates help you stand after checking in to see if you’re able to stand. To your own amazement you can, and as you do you lock tearfilled eyes with George’s. 

George wished he could describe the way he felt in that moment as he saw you fall off your broom. It had felt like shock and victory combined into a strange slush of stomach dropping, heart soaring and nausea. It had taken him the remainder of the day to conclude that he hadn’t really meant to knock you off your broom. He didn’t know what he had intended on doing exactly, though. Most likely, he thought, he’d just wanted to win over you. To have another thing to rub in your face. And he supposed he did have that now. Only, he didn’t want to rub it in your face. He actually didn’t want to see you at all. Because for the first time ever, George felt something different inside him at the thought of seeing you. Something akin to the way he felt when he’d broken his sibling’s things on accident as a child and had to face them when they found out, something not unlike when he’d play-wrestled Ron and knocked one of his teeth loose, something like….No, George thought to himself, he was many things, but George was not feeling guilty because of you. He couldn’t be. Right? 

Sure it had been unfair of him to underestimate his strength and of course he’d felt bad when you’d broken your collarbone and arm in the fall. He’d even considered seeing you in the hospital. He knew how horrible it was to drink skele-gro, after all. He hadn’t seen you though, he figured he was not the person you wanted to see. Besides he’d felt that weird need to avoid you. And avoid you he did. For the first time in almost three years, George Weasley had actively stayed away from you. He’d skived off the classes you had together, had sat far away from you in the great hall, often with his back turned to you, he’d simply done a 180 whenever he’d seen you in the halls or at the library. And this bloody feeling in the pit of his stomach wasn’t going away, which had kept him plenty busy with all the extra time he’d had from skiving off. The feeling had almost completely consumed him at this point, and he didn’t know what to do about it. He woke every morning with a strange expectation that a howler would come from his mother, spend the few classes he had left in the school year awaiting McGonagall or even Professor Dumbledore himself to show up and pull him aside to scold him. He’d wandered every corridor with a feeling that he was trespassing when he had every right to be there. And he was sick of it. A small voice in his head told him to just apologise to you, but that little voice had no idea what it was really asking of him. Apologising to you would mean he’d have to lose face to you, and for some reason George would rather have his fingers hexed off one by one than be vulnerable in front of you. 

When he did see you it was in Hogsmeade on the last visit before the summer vacation began. He’d been at the three broomsticks with Lee and Fred, celebrating that they were officially done with exams and studying. He’d been chosen to go order their drinks on the argument that he was the one closest to the bar. And as he’d been waiting on his order, he’d heard your unmistakable voice behind him. Turning around to face you, he noticed your arm enveloped in a cast, he’d heard the story in snippets from passersbys and offhand notions: complicated break, waiting list for st Mungo’s, weeks to recover completely. Every word had added a pebble to the pile of boulders in his stomach. You looked up at him and almost looked surprised to see him. He figured you would. It had been almost two months since you’d been face to face like this. coward another voice whispered in the back of George’s mind. He shrugged it off. 

“Oh,” you say, “Hi, Weasley,” your e/c eyes have a certain gleam in them, he’s well aware it’s not from him, he’s heard you’ve done well on your exams despite the broken bones, he figures the gleam is from pride, 

“Hi,” he replies dryly, say something, anything, say you’re sorry just speak dammit, George, “Nice cast,” he manages a smile but on the inside he’s curling into himself with horror, “want me to sign it?” as he says it the gleam in your eyes disappears, and the usual sour expression you wear when you speak to him paints itself on your face. To his own astonishment, it doesn’t bring the joy it usually does, it makes him feel sort of sick, actually, say you’re sorry, the voice begs again. 

“You can sign your bank information, and I can send you the bill from St Mungo’s if you want,” you turn back to the bar, looking at a menu that you’ve already ordered from, “doubt you’ll be able to afford it though,” you say, slightly softer, and the weight of the boulders of guilt inside him becomes painful, he hadn’t thought about the cost of getting your bones fixed, and as an extra weight, you were right, he couldn’t afford to pay it. So he doesn’t answer. You glance up at him with a challenging gaze when he doesn’t but he just bites his lip to counter the pain inside him. 

“Three butterbeers, Weasley,” Rosmerta says, placing the drinks on the bar, 

“and three butterbeers and a soda for you, L/n” Rosmerta holds onto the tray with drinks, “Oh don’t worry about it, dear, let me carry the drinks to your table for you,” she says and sets off towards the table where your friends await you,  

“I guess I’ll see you next year, Weasley,” you say, “and don’t think the arm is going to stop me from kicking your arse if you knock me off a broom again,” you grin at him, and a wave of elation runs through George at the sight of you grinning at him. It tells him that you’ve not resorted to hating him fully, at least not in a different way to how you hated him before. You were rivals, yes. But George would never consider you an enemy. Not that you were friends. He didn’t like you. He didn’t think he liked you, either way. 

“Y/n?” The word slips out between his lips as your back is turned to him, he blinks a few times, trying to figure out what to say, you stare at him with an expression that seems to say “go on?” 

“I’m-erh- I’ll see you next year,” he says. 

taglist: @schlongbottom​ @cardboardbenmazzello​ @unseensilver​ @mochamiilk Let me know if you want to be added :))  

[rodem]

I started Smt5 on friday. it honestly feels kinda surreal considering how long it took to come out, wasn’t it first announced as like a switch launch title or something????? Well all the delays were obviously a good thing because the game seems really polished and the global release is amazing (and no one day patch, lol). I haven’t seen any spoilers beside the official pre-release stuff either so going into it mostly blind is really exciting. It’s the first smt where I didn’t do extensive research on “what build should I give the mc?” beforehand. (I’m doing magic because that’s always the safest bet for early game, which is usually the most difficult due to lack of good skills/demons. Though based on the Aogami essences I’ve collected so far it seems like the build the game wants the player to choose is more phys/support orientated...)

I guess here are some of my jumbled thoughts/impressions so far (I just finished the school and got to second section of the Netherworld)

When I first started I was like "omg the menu sounds from DDS are back." Gotta love those menu sounds.

The atmosphere of the Netherworld is soo good. The environment, the buildings, the music (having special sounds to notify the player of new/full moon was such a smart touch. and the full moon sound still gives me chills), the demon sound clips that play, demon npc placement, etc. all top notch. I feel like that desolate and isolated post-apocalyptic atmosphere that smt is known for (and prev best done in nocturne imo) has been perfected here. And the ability to like run and climb through mountains/dilapidated buildings really adds so much to the atmosphere. Like I really feel like I'm stranded on some demon infested post apocalyptic wasteland with only myself and demon allies to rely on! Such an amazing atmosphere!! It's strong enough to overpower the mc's very silly design that I have a hard time taking seriously lol.

And there's so much to explore and so many hidden things to find! I love climbing high places and then jumping straight down to an area only accessible through jumping down. There's actually so much to explore it gets overwhelming. And I'm def still needing to get used to it. Which makes me glad the world map icons are so helpful. I feel like I'm spending way longer in certain areas than I should because I keep getting lost or stuck or accidentally backtrack to somewhere I already went, lol.

So many good qol things were added to the battle and fusion systems. It's really helpful being able to see enemy weaknesses and health bars when you hover over them. And learnable skills being fully visible with even the level they are learned is one of the greatest new additions. (no more having to look up online what skills a demon learns and when!)

SMT games usually aren't that hard by endgame (for me, and on normal difficulty, at least) because you can just abuse buffs/debuffs. But those have been so nerfed this game. Even though I like doing tons of damage and not taking barely any due to buffs/debuffs, the re-vamp was for the best. Also do they only stack twice now? Because I've only seen two up arrows next to the icons. Though it seems the re-work of (de)buffs is balanced by the addition of the magatsuhi meter and new skills. The magatsuhi meter took a bit to get used to because at first I either kept forgetting it existed, or assumed it would take up a press turn. But it's really useful to have and it seems like fun strategies can be played with the magatsuhi skills. And there's always the sense of danger when the enemy is absorbing magatsuhi....

Essence fusion and miracles are also fun to play with. I was surprised fundamental stuff like demons begging for mercy had to be unlocked, but hiding stuff like that behind miracles makes alot of sense. Def the most useful miracle (besides like skill/demon slot increase), is the one that gives your demons bonus exp/levels depending on the exp/levels gained of the fused demons. Very useful for unlocking skills on new demons quicker and also doesn't make me feel bad for not fusing my demons as soon as they learn all their learnable skills. (Which is what I usually do).

The best moment I had so far was getting my revenge on that big bird for ambushing and killing me earlier, by changing my affinities to block force. (Which luckily was perfect for the Nuwa fight as well). The boss battles so far have been really tense. I feel like usually in these games my character is overleveled because I do a lot of backtracking to go back to save points. But since enemies are usually easily avoidable here, my character has been around the same level as the bosses. As my mc is like the only damage dealer I have so have, I keep having to use chakra drops during boss battles and my collection is being depleted. Which is honestly fun because I'm an item holder so I usually never use mp restoration items. Another function I've been using alot so far that I never used a whole lot before unless it was necessary, was swapping demons during battle. I usually do so if a demon I'm using runs out of mp.

In terms of story/characters, well I had like 0 expectations for the storyline going in so my view is already biased. The premise is very funny and probably requires the most suspension of disbelief out of megaten premises so far, imo at least. I do wonder if the whole "we, members of a secret gov organization led by goddamn angels and the prime minister, are relying on hs students to risk their lives and we don't feel bad or weird about it at all" premise will like actually lead to some sort of social commentary/critique. But based on experiences/knowledge of anime/otaku media in general it's more likely just meant to be played completely straight.

One thing I noticed is that the whole "my other half" thing has been brought up by three separate (demon) characters so far. So I'm guessing that concept will play a big role in the story. (and now that I think about it, I guess the mc is Aogami's other half or something....) Well I hope whenever Amanozako finds her other half she gets a new form that's less hideous. Like Amanozako from actual mythology looks so cool, and then the smt one is just "pixie 2.0."

In terms of the human characters. I expected the streamer dude to be really obnoxious and self centered, and he turns out to be the most down to earth one. His whole thing of wanting to fight demons and be a hero and not realizing the gravity of the situation until he's actually fighting and then he chickens out, felt very realistic and relatable haha. His "huge loser" background reminds me of the smt1 chaos hero, which makes me theorize he will be the alignment hero for whatever the chaos faction equivalent this game is (i have 0 idea if they are doing the traditional law/chaos/neutral stuff this game too, but so far that seems to be the case). Though I think his design already looks "chaotic" to me, so I'd prefer if he went against my expectations and become the law representative to me. Worst human character so far is def megane's sister. I disliked her since the pre-release info and she so far seems to be exactly how I expected, a very generic shy, frail girl who is entirely dependent on her "onii-chan." Though hopefully as the game goes on that perception will change and they will give this girl some kind of agency.

Also, I loved the cutscene where mc and Aogami first split and none of the other kids like make notice of or even react at all to Aogami just silently standing there at all. amazing stuff.

[intermundia]

Girl-Who-Lived

I wrote a 1.5k harry potter AU with a trans Anakin, because JKR’s comments have not ceased to bother me, and trans women are women. It’s obikin because I like to write obikin! 

So, 1 year after the Battle of Hogwarts, Anakin is avoiding the celebration, and Obi-Wan wants to know why, and she realizes she’s ready to tell him.

“I figured I’d find you out here,” Obi-Wan said knowingly.

Anakin looked up at him from the cool grass of the Quidditch pitch, and she immediately stopped ripping up the grass. “Hi, Obi-Wan.”

“Hello, Anakin.” Obi-Wan sat down, and then lay back, arranging himself shoulder-to-shoulder, looking up at the stars too. “Why are you avoiding the party? It’s for you.” His voice was teasing.

“No, it’s not,” Anakin shot him a look. “You know full well it’s not. Don’t be an ass.”

Obi-Wan bumped shoulders. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Anakin sighed. “I know I should be inside. The anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts is important, or whatever, and the ceremony was beautiful with all the lights and stuff. I just…” She trailed off, and started pulling grass again.

“…Don’t want to be inside?” Obi-Wan completed hesitantly.

“Yeah,” Anakin said lamely. “That. I don’t want to do that.”

It was quiet for a long moment. Anakin heard an owl hooting from the Forbidden Forest, and sighed again. The moon was very full, and there was almost too much light. She’d wanted to be somewhere dark, and alone.

“Why?” Obi-Wan asked quietly.

Anakin frowned. “Why what?”

“Why don’t you want to be inside?” Obi-Wan asked, voice cautious. “Why haven’t I seen you at the Ministry? I thought you were going to be an Auror. I was waiting for you to come, but you never did.”

“I’ve… I’ve had a hard year,” Anakin said defensively. “A hard few years. I wanted a break.”

“I get that,” Obi-Wan said. The silence stretched for a long time. “I just… you haven’t been anywhere, Anakin. I’ve tried to reach you and I got nothing back. My owls couldn’t find you, why was that?”

“I know,” Anakin said apologetically. “I’m really sorry. I was mostly under Fidelius, hiding out.”

Obi-Wan rolled on to his side, putting his chin in his hand and looking down at her thoughtfully. “I mean, I know you don’t owe me anything,” he paused. “…But I was worried about you. You totally disappeared.”

“You were only Head Boy when we were at Hogwarts,” Anakin said, voice grumpy. “You’re not obligated to keep up the responsibilities.”

“That’s not even remotely related to why I care, Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s tone was dry.

“Yeah, yeah, all right,” Anakin grumbled. “I appreciated your help a lot when we were at Hogwarts, and in the Order. I should have written.”

“It’s not about obligation.” Obi-Wan sounded slightly hurt. He lay back down for a moment before sitting up, straightening his robe. “I’m glad you didn’t, then. I just thought…” He was quiet, and Anakin winced. “I thought we were friends too, you know? Even if I had been your professor. Once we were in the Order, with all the time we spent together fighting, I thought…”

“We were friends,” Anakin said earnestly, seeking out his eyes in the moonlight. “We are friends, I just… I needed to figure some things out on my own.”

Obi-Wan sighed, running a hand down his face and smoothing his beard. “Did you figure it out?”

“Close enough,” Anakin said nervously.

“So…” Obi-Wan looked at her for a long moment. “Will you be coming to work at the Ministry?”

“No,” Anakin said, shaking her head decisively. “I can’t do that.”

“Why?” Obi-Wan sounded sad. “I was really hoping you would.”

“They only want to hire me because I’m the boy-who-lived.” Anakin spat the phrase. She swallowed, clenching and unclenching her fists. “I cannot keep living my life with that name haunting me everywhere, it’s driving me insane. I can’t.”

Obi-Wan was thoughtful. “It’s probably not nice to be reminded of your mom all the time.”

“It’s really not,” Anakin said, “But… that’s not my problem with it.” She trailed off, falling silent again.

“You don’t want to rely on your fame?” Obi-Wan guessed hesitantly. “You have the skills for the job, you would be good at it.”

“No, that’s not why either,” Anakin said shortly, sitting up. She took a deep breath, anxiously running a hand through her messy curls. “I’m not the boy-who-lived, alright? It’s like nails on a chalkboard hearing that wherever I go. I’m so tired of it.”

“What do you mean?” Obi-Wan frowned at her.

“I’m…” Anakin swallowed. She’d never told anybody about this before, and Obi-Wan wasn’t just anybody. He’d always taken care of her, first as Head Boy, then as DADA professor, and then in the Order. He knew her better than anyone, even her classmates. “I’m not a boy, all right?”

“What?” Obi-Wan did a double take, and then looked at her intently. “What do you mean?”

“I… I’ve always felt…” Anakin bit her lip and slumped back to the ground. She squeezed her eyes closed and let the words fall out of her mouth. “I’ve always been a girl.”

Obi-Wan was very quiet, and Anakin opened her eyes cautiously. He was looking down at her, his expression serious. “Who else knows?”

“What?” Anakin asked, slightly nonplussed. “Nobody.”

“You haven’t told anybody else?” Obi-Wan asked gently.

“No,” Anakin shook her head. “Wizarding Britain is really conservative. I’ve… I’ve wanted to stay out of the papers. I learned my lesson about keeping secrets.” Her tone was acid.

“But…” Obi-Wan gaped at her. “Everywhere you go…”

“Yes,” Anakin nodded. “Everywhere.”

Obi-Wan frowned and pursed his lips. “I’m… I’m sorry, Anakin. That must be…” He looked at her sharply. “Are you… Is your name the same?”

“I’m Anakin.” She smiled at him. “My mom named me after a goddess, and it’s a good name. I’m happy with it.”

“It is a good name,” Obi-Wan said agreeably. He shifted closer, and Anakin couldn’t read the expression on his face. “Thank you for telling me, Anakin. It… it makes sense to me.”

“It does?” Anakin said cautiously. “What do you mean?”

“I…” Obi-Wan looked away. He sounded a bit flustered. “I don’t want to make this about me. It’s about you. I… I just… It makes sense to me, because… I’m heterosexual.”

Anakin blinked in surprise. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I… You made me question…” Obi-Wan shook his head. “I suppose you were honest with me, so…” He took a deep breath. “I had a lot of very confusing feelings about you during the war.”

Anakin gaped at him. “You did?”

Obi-Wan smiled at her, slightly self-consciously. “Yes, but… all I’m trying to say is just that it makes sense to me.” He shrugged. “You made me question my entire sexual orientation. I guess… It turns out that I still prefer women, and all of my soul-searching was for nothing.” He laughed, and he still sounded self-conscious.

Anakin laughed incredulously, a grin spreading on her face. “That is not how I thought this would go.”

Obi-Wan smiled more genuinely, his eyes searching her face. “Thank you for telling me. I…” He pushed her shoulder. “I care about you. I missed you a lot.”

“I missed you too, so much,” Anakin said earnestly. “I wanted to tell you but…”

“You weren’t ready, it’s all right.” Obi-Wan suddenly laughed. “Sorry, I just… You had no idea the amount of thought I had put into this before.”

Anakin gave him a look. “I have… I have some idea.”

“Well, yes,” Obi-Wan said, abashed. “I suppose you, of all people, would have a pretty good idea.” He stood up and offered a hand down. “They’re looking for you inside, it’s time for the dedication of the memorial.”

Anakin sighed and grabbed his hand, letting him pull her up. He kept pulling, and wrapped her in a big hug. “Thank you for telling me, Anakin.” She slumped against him, relaxing into his embrace.

“Thanks for… thanks for being patient with me,” she said, awkwardly. “I really didn’t mean to ghost everyone for a year, I just… I just couldn’t do it anymore.”

“I know,” Obi-Wan said. He hugged her tighter, and then let go. She slipped her hand into his, and they began walking back up to the castle. It was truly a beautiful evening, the air was fresh and the moon cast a glimmering reflection in the lake. “What will you do, if not the Ministry?”

Anakin smiled at him. “I spent a lot of time working on enchanting my broomstick. I have a prototype of a new kind of racing broom, actually.”

“Of course you do,” Obi-Wan said fondly. “Let me guess, it goes faster than the speed of sound now.”

“Not quite.” She smiled. “Almost.”

Obi-Wan shuddered. “Just… just don’t ask me to ride it.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” She teased. “You coward.”

Obi-Wan scoffed. “What you do is not flying—”

“It’s suicide!” Anakin spoke the words at the same time he did, mimicking his delivery perfectly. “I know.”

They drew near the stairs, and Obi-Wan squeezed her hand before letting it go. “Let's talk after, yes? You're not going to drop off the map again?”

"No," Anakin said with a smile. "I'm here."

[fuckyeahharryhart]

PART 2 HARRY HART FAN FICTION Because they better give him a good story for the last Kingsman. In case they don’t, I wrote something myself.

PART 2

FAN FIC

KINGSMAN III: REDACTED

MULTI PART SERIES:(My version of Kingsman 3)

Harry Hart x Original Character

Warnings: Reference to violence

Word Count: 5,900

OVERVIEW: After the events of Kingsman, The Golden Circle, Harry, Eggsy and the rest of the survivors rebuild their agency to it’s former level of integrity. A new player arrives unexpectedly, carrying memories of the past that will change the future of Kingsman.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Harry and Eggsy try to discover who this new players is, how they were at the right place and the right time, and what they know about kingsman. A marksman of that caliber isn't someone to take lightly.

------

Bloody hell. Harry's hand was still stinging with heated pain from having his key fob, of all bloody things, shot out of hand. His knee was out of sorts from dropping, face down, to the pavement. Hearing gunshots ring out from, not one, but two different directions did not improve his mood or his state of mind.  Continuing to roll as he hit the ground, he switched to his side so he could draw his weapon. But first, he turned toward the direction of the original fire. That was the shooter who caught his interest. A marksman with the precision to shoot a key fob from that distance, within centimetres of his hand without (well without significant) injury was someone not to underestimate. He could make a shot like that. He had plenty of times at the Kingsman shooting range. But that was aiming at a non-moving target in a controlled environment, under the best of circumstances. The only other time he fired a shot that exacting was in Cambodia. While wrestling a certain Agent Whiskey for control of a firearm, he was able to free Eggsy from a lasso looped around his neck by shooting clean through the rope. He assumed landing that shot was 1/4 luck, 1/4 technique and 1/2 his sheer force of will.

Very few marksman possessed the natural talent, training and skill to land that shot. Even less in London proper and he was almost certain that all of those individuals even close to that level, were under Kingsman’s employ.

Under the cover of shadows and partially hidden by a gate column, he spotted the shooter. At the same time, the shooter spotted him and they made split second eye contact. Obviously, the shooter did not want to be witnessed judging from the displeased look that he had noted. But rather than ducking out of view, they kept their stance, provided cover fire until the area was cleared and the threat was gone. And then, without a moments hesitation, the person holstered their weapon and turned abruptly in the opposite direction and began to walk off with long, measured steps. He and Eggsy dusted themselves, gestured to the other, nodded and made off in opposite directions in the attempt to cut the person off at the path. As he smoothed down his suit and adjusted his cuffs, he was quite certain that he was never going to enjoy a peaceful evening again.

——

She didn’t waste valuable seconds checking her phone, grateful that she took the extra time to map her locations in her head. Quickly referring to her orientation, she saw three viable options. Directly in front of her was the Royal Academy. Though it was vast and beautiful and filled with courtyards and eaves, arches, doorways, ideal to drop a tail, it was also closed and quiet. There was no crowd to get lost in. A single person moving in that space would surely be noticed.

She weighed her two other options against each other. Both were about equal in distance. No more than a 10 min walk in either direction. To her right was Mayfair. Situated in the heart of the city, it was one of the most expensive and exclusive areas of London with swanky five-star hotels, shops, restaurants, bars and pubs. Bond Street was sure to be packed with people enjoying the nightlife. Perhaps in another lifetime she could enjoy an evening out in such a place. Not at the moment.

On the plus side, the streets were more random, intersecting at odd places, without the usual grid format. That gave her more exit options. They would less likely follow the same path. Downside, as much as she would enjoy an elegant evening out, she was not appropriately attired. Of course, there would be the usual strong of tourists and visitors that would be similarly inappropriately attired. Even though she would blend in with part of the crowd, she didn’t want to stand out in anyway. Plus, if she needed to tuck into a shop or a restaurant, she wanted to blend with the locals and not the tourists. And she wasn’t going to do that with her nondescript outfit.  Or, she would find herself in a situation where someone would ask to take her jacket. She would have to politely refuse because of her shoulder holster and her gun. They would insist. Then it would become an uncomfortable situation for everyone involved. Awkward and uncomfortable would be hard NOT to notice.

A ten minute walk to her left would drop her in ever trendy Soho. A little louder, a little more rowdy and relaxed, Soho was more happy hour than cocktail hour. The way there would have more traffic, both car and pedestrian, but it was also more direct and brightly lit. More importantly, she would be able to blend with the locals, not just the tourists. Maybe even slip into a pub or bar for the glass of wine she so desperately could use. There would be more viable places to manuever, evade, and find cover. More opportunity to lose a tail. And less likely for a messy confrontation.

Though she didn’t stick around long enough, she was fairly certain that the two men were following her.  She kept in mind that they were trained with the same skills and likely had the same natural talent and instincts as she did. Part of her plan was to move slightly against instinct, find the ideal move and then, proceed with something slightly different. But they had to be thinking the same thing.

Shit. The shooters might still be in the area. Depending on whether or not they had backup, if this was an isolated threat on a personal level or if was on an organisational level, she couldn’t be sure that the coast was clear in that direction. When in doubt, take precaution. There were too many unknowns, too many unanswered questions and her preference was to get away without further contact. Since she couldn’t do it clean, she wanted to avoid any additional messiness.

Typical, she thought, making her way through the last of the shoppers and the first of the evening revellers. At the moment she was making progress and feeling more in control of her circumstances, some prick with a gun comes in and has to spray bullets over all the blocks that she spent the last month building. With care and precision, she arranged and rearranged, stacking and re-stacking, until she had created a platform where she could make her move. All her variables were in place. She calculated the possible outcomes and was so close to having a plan. There was some satisfaction, knowing that she had put an equal damper on their scheme, but when success of their plan meant the death of two people, and her plans would only work if those two people were alive, It didn’t leave her much of a choice.

Evasion was as much about mindset as it was movement. She took a mental pause, reset her outlook. Plans only fail if you allowed them to fail.  Plans change and hers just did. Focus on clearing out first and then she could regroup and consider her options. If she let her frustrations distract her, she would end up missing details and she had not come this far to make bad decisions. Even in the smallest circumstances, she learned how to turn off emotions, cutting off thoughts and inconvenient emotions. Unfortunately, it was usually the thoughts about the situation she was in, that caused troubling emotions, such as her frustration at the turn of events. But if she walled off those thoughts for the time being, she would be more likely to operate with logic and clarity.

To her advantage, she had a head start, she knew the situation she was dealing with, two known variables on her tail, one unknown threat that could possibly be armed and still in the area. Likely, all three of them knew the area so there was no upper hand in that case. Two would be on foot, probably split to cover more area. It was to her disadvantage that there were two of them, but would be easier to confront them individually if it came to that.

She assumed that they also saw her as a threat. Regardless whether or not her actions had saved their lives, she was still an unknown, an armed and dangerous, one at that. She had to expect hostility, possibly aggression if confronted. It was a situation she would prefer to avoid.

Her steps were light and relaxed. She paced herself neither too fast, nor too slow. Rushing would call attention. She avoided looking around overtly, but she used her periphery to scan the people and places around her. On the plus side, two handsome men in Saville Row bespoke would definitely turn heads. Especially the tall one, who stood inches over the average person. They couldn’t take off their suit coats either. Not with their own weapons and shoulder holsters.

She took a quick left off the main road. A few blocks over and then she could make another turn toward Soho and break up the straight line she was currently traveling. Maybe stop in Central for a quick diversion. Stay on the move. Be aware of her surroundings. Those were her two priorities. Casually checking her 360 along the way by using any reflections she saw, footsteps, noises she heard, neck stretching every few steps to check blind spots. And for a little while, she did just fine.

That is, until she found herself caught in a standing rear choke hold. Fuck.

———

Wherever the hell this person had materialised from, Harry thought, these were not the customs of a novice agent. From weaponry, tactics and evasion, their actions were one hundred percent on point. They should be only a suggestion in the wind by now. The single reason he was able to catch them unaware was because of new Kingsman tech. Just developed, airborne nano GPS trackers. Designed to mark a large group of targets from a distance, they were tiny particles, almost invisible by the naked eye. Programmed to navigate toward the wavelengths of infrared radiation emitted by the human body, specifically at the signature of 12 micron.  Best for outdoor use, or in large open spaces, these capsules were broken and released into the air where the prevailing wind would transport the nano GPS transmitters and attach to the nearest known radiation signature. The tracking range could vary depending on the windspeed, air density and how many capsules were released. They were handy to track large crowd movement, not typically used to track a single person. But it was all he had on hand. Since the street was empty at the time, they had a good chance that some GPS attached. Using the process of elimination to rule out unintentional attachments, they could isolated the movement they were looking for. They were looking for someone who moved like a spy.

This person, whoever they were, made all of the decisions that he would have and then added some surprise evasion tactics that he wouldn’t have thought of. They surely would have gotten away if not for the trackers. It wasn’t absolutely necessary that they locate the person. But they were an unknown entity. He wasn’t sure if they were an adversary, an ally, or a neutral player. Neutral players were not known for being experts at tradecraft. That left adversary or ally. With the events of the past two years and the most recent destruction of Kingsman by the Golden Circle, unanswered questions usually returned on their own, carrying an unfavourable answer.  Granted, the person saved their lives, but they already knew too much of Kingsman. Knew of threats of which Kingsman was not aware. So when chance invited him to make a move, to quietly sneak behind the person at the last second, he took it.

——

This is not why I spent four weeks planning, she fumed silently. Her mood was grim. Of course it would be at this exact moment that she registered the slightest contact from behind, like a passing breeze brushing against her. But she knew displaced air when she felt it.  Based on her position, facing forward, added to the position he was in, directly behind her, also facing forward, that would have to equal a rear standing choke hold. Instantly, she countered, dropping her chin to her chest like it belonged there, denying him the chance to press his forearm against the front of her neck. A chokehold had two purposes, either to crush the windpipe, resulting in death. Not the outcome she was looking for. Or, to cut off blood to the brain via the carotid artery, leaving her unconscious. Which wasn’t much of a consolation prize. Either way, she had just about 12 seconds to act. Since both options were less than desirable, she shielded her throat as best she could and waited for the window were she could counter like a small, but fierce animal.

The strength of his grip said that he wasn’t going for either option, but told her he using the hold as a restraint. So, she had that going for her, she thought darkly. Yet, he still had the capacity to follow through on either option. There was no give to his grip. Twisting out of the hold was not an option without more leeway. Not one to be held in a vulnerable position, her goal was to escape. Several ways presented themselves, few of which incorporated an unrestrained elbow or kick to the groin. Her aim was not to incapacitate, regardless of how satisfying that may be, but to extricate herself.

Based on sheer size and strength, she was highly disadvantaged. But, as a woman in the field, only relying on your strength, you’d get beaten every time. Women didn’t have to fight harder. They had to fight smarter. Not only did she have to use her size and weight to her advantage, she had to use his size and strength against him. With the obvious discrepancy in height, not that she was short. Five foot nine made her taller than average, but at 6’ 2”, he was also taller than average. Her best option? Leverage. Literally.  Use him as lever. It was the move where he would be at a disadvantage and she would have the clear advantage. There was some consolation to be found, knowing they were also expert spies, but not enough to spare herself the embarrassment of being caught. Summoning her nerve, one deep inhalation, she thought, and she would be ready.

He smells nice.

The thought landed without warning. It didn’t merely land. It hit her. It hit her hard and with feeling. Her concentration stuttered. It was the scent of wood, leather, spices and a hint of something warm, rich and slightly sweet, like a velvety dark chocolate. And then there was a breath of something unexpected. A note she couldn’t identify. It was him, she realised. That was his smell. It was a good smell. A masculine smell. She was suddenly aware of his wool suit against her chin. She noticed the pinstripes against a navy as dark as the sky. The crisp white of his French shirt cuffs and the gold of his cufflinks that held them in place.

Her senses were wide open. They always were on hyperdrive when she was out in the field. That was expected. She relied on them to send her signs that she didn’t have the time to look for. But now, they were receiving all the wrong signals and sending all the wrong messages. Intensely. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the shadow of his hand. His large, wide palm was warm on the back of her neck.  By pressing her neck forward and down, it was this hand that locked the chokehold in place.

What the hell? she thought. She felt the strength of his forearms underneath her own palms. Her hands were gripping him so tightly she could feel the cords of muscle through his sleeve. Suddenly, her body became all too aware of his own. The sensation of him, the entire length of his body against hers, awakened her own. He wasn’t just standing behind her, he was bearing the whole of his body into hers. Thus, she was counter balancing with equal force. Generating heat and pressure between them.  Realising how close, how intimate, how physical, literally, their contact was at that moment, overwhelmed her reason, her logic, her objectivity. And most of all, she was aware of the man behind her. Not as a target, or a mark, or a tail or a problem to be solved. It was him. It was Harry Hart.

He must have sensed a slight shift in her energy because once that random, startling thought struck home, she didn’t dare move until she knew where it was heading and what she was going to do with it. She probably stopped breathing. Maybe that’s what he noticed because all of a sudden she felt dizzy and lightheaded. Maybe he was holding her a little tighter than she thought. He must have noticed a change because just as suddenly, his grip loosed by a fraction, not enough to escape, but enough to jar her back to the present. He was confusing her and she was angry at being confused.

She was on pause and someone had just hit the reset button. Instantly, she made her next move and she went into action fully committed. There was no hesitation in a move like this. To her advantage, their height difference meant that he had to lean down slightly to get his forearm around her neck, which shifted his center of gravity slightly forward. With his tight grip, she pushed against it, creating the energy of opposing forces to gain momentum. With her neck guarded by her chin, she quickly dropped down to one knee, gripped tightly onto his wrists and forearms, leaned back into him to get the tiniest bit of additional momentum, and then bent forward as sharply as she could from her waist, throwing the full force of her weight into the move and tucking in as tight as possible. Sure enough, with his weight already off center, using her body as a fulcrum, a pivot point, and using his height as a lever, she forced him to tumble over her head.

Normally, after a move such as this, that put her at a tactically advantageous position, she would either evade or go in for an attack move and neutralise the threat. This was not the way she wanted to introduce herself to these two men, but it looked like fate wasn’t giving her any options. She was not prepared for this situation. She didn’t have claim over the next move.  It could be either of theirs. Brushing her hair away from her eyes, she cursed herself for not having a hair tie, of all things. She paused for a moment. Her cap got knocked off during her manoeuvre. Wonderful, all these identifiers, now facial features, and the damn hair. She should handover her passport and smartphone and just get it over with. How did this evening turn so sideways?

She took a mental pause. Footsteps. His colleague. Who didn’t know what he was walking into. She quite certain it did not look like afternoon tea.

When she heard the brushing noise of a weapon being pulled out of its holster she went back on high alert. They had most definitely past the “direct contact” portion of the evening. As much as she did not want to do them harm, she was more than willing to talk, she equally, did not want to be on the interrogation end of a gun. She had another split second to decide her course of action. Two was much more complicated.

All three of them knew the rules of weaponry in the field and in engagement. Never pull a gun in a circumstance you’re not willing to use it. Never aim at a target you’re not willing to shoot. It wouldn’t have been her first choice, but when she had a lethal weapon aimed in her direction, it left her with few options.

She never had an opportunity to use it before, but it was ideal for this circumstance and what she had planned. She palmed her carbonfiber graphene tactical knife, short, less than 5”in length, from its discreet sleeve at her hip.  It’s description stated, “A device for specific close quarters combat manoeuvres in very focused special circumstance scenarios with high impact.” This circumstance would fall under that category, she thought.

The upper hand was all she needed to gain, to have a moment where they would be forced to listen to her. Grace, eloquence… She tossed those out the proverbial window. Her words would have the hardest strike. The most impact. Not her knife, not her gun, not any weapon. Now was not the time for finesse.  Once again, she had to turn shitty odds in her favours before the man she just flipped could reorient himself.  She wanted to be sorry that it had come to this, but she was just making her counter move. It didn’t matter if it was personal or not. This part, at least for her, was the business aspect of her work. Similar to negotiating a deal, but using weapons and lives as bargaining points.

The knife firmly in her grip, she raised the blade and held its lethal edge against his carotid artery with enough pressure to be VERY uncomfortable, and almost, but not break skin. He was smart and followed the direction guided by pressure of her blade hand and rose with her to a standing position. She stood behind him, angled slightly toward one side. He knew that any counter move on his part, which there were many he could take, and in this case his strength and mass would be at his advantage. She was in a very vulnerable physical position and he could take her down easily. If it weren’t for the knife at the side of his neck. The blade was very small, very light and most of all, it was very, very sharp and designed for close, personal combat.  Easy to handle, low pressure point. Which meant, whether or not his move disabled her he would, no doubt, be pulling away with nothing less than a very serious neck wound.

“Stop.” she called out firmly. “Gun down on the ground.”

The man who was under her knife, indicated, Do what she says.

He placed his gun on the ground and stood with his hands in the air.

She knew he was weighing his options, just as she did her own.

Her voice was clear and just loud enough so he could hear her where he stood.

Seriously, like this was what she needed. Did they really have to go through all this fuss?  Spies could be exhausting.

“I know what you’re thinking.”

She kept her voice conversational. Of no consequence or concern and certainly not threatening.

“Do you have enough time to disarm me and get help for your friend, Harry, before he bleeds out?”

She felt the slightest flinch when he heard the sound of his name. Not Arthur or Galahad. His given name.

“You’re quite fast, Eggsy, but not that fast.”

Now Eggsy’s turn as his eyes narrowed both suspicious and surprised. Not Galahad. Not even Gary, but Eggsy.

Ok, making progress, she thought. She had just shown her first card. She knew exactly who they were. Not just their code names. Their real ones.

To drive her point home.  “Just the tiniest amount of pressure on his carotid artery, thats all I need. 68 seconds until he loses consciousness. My knife, which you probably can’t see from where you are standing, but he can certainly feel,” she nodded her head toward Harry, “is designed to pierce fast and deep. If I had a regular blade, he might come out clean, but not with this one. Please, sincerely, think twice, for his sake, about making any sudden movements.”

Good. Neither of them made an attempt to move. Not even a twinge. She continued. She didn’t know how long the odds would be in her favour. At this point, she was playing fast and loose. Something she rarely did and she was not used to. One of her biggest strengths was her ability to prepare. This was not a scenario that she had imagined.

“I know either of you could disable me, but not without me doing a fair amount of damage first.”

It wouldn’t be her first choice to do harm, but she was in no mood for additional fuckery and she wanted to make it abundantly clear that, though she was no match for them in terms of brute strength, she had plenty of ways to dominate a fight using strategy. She wasn’t stronger, but she could be smarter. She wasn’t above shedding blood to prove that she was not to be underestimated.

“I didn’t start this fight, but I’m more than happy to finish it.”

She added, “You see how well trained I am. You should be asking yourself why i haven’t killed him, or either of you, already.”

Did they really have to be so obstinate? Obstreperous. Truculent?  They should have been asking themselves that question after she took the first shot. They could very easily be dead right now if it were not for her.  She needed to prove to them she was not a threat to their lives. Against all of her training, she laid her second card down.

 “And ask yourself,” she repeated. “perhaps why, then, I would let him go.”

Very carefully, very slowly, and very deliberately, she softened the pressure against his neck until the blade was no longer making contact. She continued to draw it far away from him, far enough to clear so not to do any damage, before she began to lower it. She took a few steps back, hands up, the knife still visible in her right, but with a carry hold, not an active grip.

Imagine her surprise when Harry turned on her, twisted her wrist until she had to drop the knife. Not without force. She resisted the split second she saw what was happening. She knew in this case, she didn’t have an immediate out, but that didn’t mean she had to make it easy for him. Rather than conserving her energy, she fought him and fought him with force, until she saw his face grimace with the effort.

Good, she thought.

She made some pretty satisfying contact before he was able to push her all the way back against the red brick warehouse. The wall gave her less room to maneuver. She landed one last, very satisfying kick to his shin. It wasn’t a fancy move. There was no technique involved. She just put all her grit behind that single kick and the connection she made was very gratifying, despite her situation. She hoped it left huge bruise to remember her by. It was obviously painful and hurt him enough that he shoved her away fairly hard. The back of her head knocked into the bricks with a force that she wouldn’t have considered gentlemanly.

Well, she did have a knife to his carotid just a few moments ago, she countered. She supposed turn about was fair play. This time, he was able to get his forearm across her throat and braced his right wrist with the circle of his left hand. Standing arm bar hold. She had no counter this time, seeing since Eggsy had his gun again and it being much harder to escape a bullet than a choke hold. So, that move did not have the impact that she thought it would.

She knew they had to have this conversation, but she was pissed. At them, but she admitted, begrudgingly, that she was mostly pissed at herself for letting her guard down. To be fair, they really had no idea who she was. And until they did, she would remain a threat. But she still had one more card. She was just waiting for the chance to use it.

——

What the bloody fuck had just happened? Harry Hart was not one to get caught off guard. But he was miffed that it happened this evening. Not only once, but three bloody times, and he had just quite enough of whatever fuckery was happening around him. First, the key fob, then the chokehold, then the bloody knife. Well, my dear, he thought, two can play this game. He wasn’t above fighting dirty. Sometimes the situation insisted on it. It seemed as if this was one of those times.

As soon as she let down her guard sufficiently enough for him to act, he twisted her arm, forcing her to drop the knife. But she wasn’t making things easier for him, or for herself, for that matter. Even though he clearly had the upper hand, she fought him the entire time. She, too, apparently wasn’t above a little dirty dealing when she landed a kick to his shin. A very hard, directed kick, not meant to disable, not in an attempt to escape, a kick just purely meant to cause him pain. A bit more than cheeky. He finally pushed her, maybe just a tad harder than he anticipated, until her head knocked back and hit the warehouse wall behind her. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Eggsy had taken the opportunity to retrieve his gun and provide cover. Her eyes quickly darted in the same direction, confirmed the same thing that he saw and then stared at him furiously. Whether the fury was directed toward him or to her change in circumstance, most likely both, he could not be certain.

Making sure his arm bar would prevent any further roughhousing, Harry spoke, adopting almost the same conversational tone as she had. She wasn’t sure if he was matching her tone to respect her or mock her. This time she felt free to show as much aggression as she felt like. There was no consequence at this point. She tossed her damn hair out of her face.

——

As she flipped her hair to the side, Harry, by instinct, began to document her features so, if needed, he could provide a detailed description of her should it ever become necessary. Tall, 5’ 8 1/2 - 9. Slim build, but athletic, lean muscular rather than simply thin. Age was hard to determine, she looked both very young, but her eyes, they were both wise and melancholy. A look that only came with time and experience. Her eyes seemed to say that they had already seen too much. She was anywhere from mid twenties to mid thirties. He noticed that her eyes were grey. Grey, and they had a slight almond shape to them. Tilted just enough to give her an air of mystery. Dark lashes, dark hair and much of it. Long. Wavy. It was shiny and looked very soft. Dusky fair skin with just an undertone of warm olive. Cheeks pink, with displeasure, he thought, or embarrassment, certainly not because she was flattered by the attention. Her mouth was small and delicate, her lips pressed together in a firm line. Also pink. She was quite becoming. Beautiful even. He tried to determine her ethnicity, but found himself unable to place her exotic, yet subtle, delicate features.

Harry caught himself.  He wasn’t just documenting her features. It wasn’t bloody like him.These were not the most appropriate thoughts for the moment.

She noticed him noticing her. She didn’t know what he was noticing, so she grew even more frustrated. She obviously didn’t care about keeping her expressions to herself any longer. It was quite loud and clear what she was thinking. It was written all over her face.

He came back to his words. In his calm, deep voice, he asked her three simple questions.

“Who are you? Who do you work for, and why did you shoot at us?”

A firm set to her jaw and with equal composure, she answered his questions without hesitation, but in her own order.

“I” she emphasised, “didn’t shoot at you.” she added under her breath, “I was aiming for your key fob.”

“I work for no one.” She halted, her eyes pulling their full attention to hers.

She laid down her last card.

“My name is Gwendolyn Mycroft.” she took a meaningful pause. “My father saved your lives.”

Glancing between the two of them, she saw that, as she intended, she had hit home. She added.

‘So, I suggest you release me, and let us go to a place where we can discuss this in a more civilised manner.”

She saw that both of the men were in a state of shock. She could understand. The evening hadn’t gone the way she expected either. She waited for a response that was something other than a blank stare.

“Do you like scotch?” Eggsy asked.

Well, that was a good of a start as any.

-----

If you made it this far, Thanks for reading!! Comments, questions, likes are always appreciated. Always feel free to reblog.

[epochxp]

Epoch Xperience Interviews Nordic Weasel Founder, Ivan Sorensen

Mr. Sorensen needs no real introduction to many miniature wargamers. His company, Nordic Weasel Games, has taken the historical miniatures gaming world by storm, and he’s become the force on Wargames Vault. His formula of “substance over flash” has produced good games for a very reasonable price, and he has taken full advantage of PDF technology to produce a quality product one can buy and have in your (virtual hands) the next day. 

Without further ado, I give you Ivan Sorensen:

Biography

My name is Ivan Sorensen, and I am a game designer and self-publishing writer of miniatures games, as well as the odd role-playing game. Under the moniker of Nordic Weasel Games, I have worked as a game writer for close to 7 years. 

I am an avid player of board games, miniatures games, role-playing games, video games, and anything else I can get my hands on. I have spent half my life on this planet in Denmark, where I was born, and half in the United States, where I currently reside. I am married, have one kid and two cats named Scruffy and Lancelot. 

Unlike a lot of historical games writers, many of my formative miniatures gaming experiences actually came from science fiction games, so I suppose that has given me a little bit of a different perspective.

So, how did you get started in writing rules? Was there an “aha” moment, or did you fall into it?

At the risk of sounding cheesy, I have basically always created little dice and board games for myself, using Lego pieces or other things that we had available, usually based on video games I had read about in magazines or other ideas like that.

When I was 12 or so, I remember getting a copy of White Dwarf magazine from a local gaming club I had joined, and it blew my mind. We had some limited exposure to the idea of space marines and all these things from the Milton Bradley Hero Quest and Space Crusade board games, but the idea of battle games played without a board, using miniatures and dice was too much to resist. I knew I had to get into this, and as I had no money for it, I sat down to write a game I could play with my Space Crusade figures, which would look as much like what I imagined Warhammer 40.000 would be like.

Since then, I had pretty much always been the “rules guy” in the gaming groups I was part of, whether we were playing miniatures games or RPG’s, so it just came naturally over time, I suppose. As I got access to the internet and later got access to ordering things from the UK or US, I devoured every game I could get my hands on and was even remotely interested in. 

The start to writing games that were any good was my own attempt at creating a World War 1 game system (titled Trench Storm). I had shared it online, and to my great surprise, it began catching people’s attention and got a (very) small following, with people even purchasing miniatures to play it. Eventually, I was contacted by the US distributor for IT Miniatures, who offered to print it to promote their 20mm figure range. The rest is, as they say, history. Once in a great while, a copy of that game still pops up on eBay, it seems! 

How did Nordic Weasel Games come to be? 

So that story took place right around the time I moved to the United States. After moving, I had a lengthy period where I did not have my work permit yet, so game writing seemed like an obvious distraction, resulting in Fast and Dirty, a sci-fi rules set that you still see mentioned online here and there.

As the years went on, I kept tinkering and building things but mostly for my own enjoyment. Sometime during the fall of 2013, I started seriously working on a new game system for WW2 skirmish actions that I felt had some real potential to go places. At the time, I worked at a relatively dead-end middle management job at an incredibly toxic information technology company. You know the sort of job, where you have been there for too long, and you hate every minute of it. 

Come the spring, I decided to take a gamble that I could make enough money from game sales to make it worth pursuing and quit. I figured if I could find a way to do it without putting money on the line, then if it all bombed, I could just walk away and find something else to do in life.

Consequently, Five Men in Normandy was released on June 15, 2014, and as of today, we are still here! 

What is in the future for Nordic Weasel?

Hopefully, many big things! The biggest priority for 2021 specifically is to get into print books, though there are a lot of stumbling blocks in terms of layout requirements and so on.

I always keep a list of projects I would like to do, though I try not to talk about them too much in case they fall through. I am the sort of guy who always starts with 20 ideas, so by the time the unworkable ones have been weeded out, there are 2 or 3 left. 

What I can say is that I am actively looking at fantasy miniatures battles, and I would love to do more WW1 and Black Powder era gaming material. 

The real big question is that I am also very much at a point where there are just too many things to do it all alone. I cannot write 4 or 5 new games, support an entire back catalogue, and update old titles all by my lonesome, so I look forward to trying to solve that in the future. I suppose this is a good problem to have, but it is certainly also an intimidating one!

Is there a period of history you want to write rules for but have not?

We have worked extensively with the two world wars and the black powder era in general, as well as 20th century-to-modern era battles, and with Knyghte, Pyke and Sworde we even delved into medieval warfare.

The one that stands out as something that would be fun to do is World War 1 air combat, complete with goggles and scarf flapping in the wind. A little romanticized sure, but great fun, and there is a lot of fantastic models available.

For a historical era I have not touched on at all, I would say that while I have done games that cover it among other 19th century conflicts, a dedicated American Civil War set is something I would be very keen to do.

There are a lot of fantastic rules out there for the period, of course, but I feel like the “Weasel” approach of being solo-friendly and campaign-oriented could carve out a nice space of that market. Plus, I find the era quite fascinating. Growing up in Denmark, I was never really raised with a particular view of the conflict, but having married into a proud Vermont family, it is, of course, unavoidable. 

Can you tell our readers what goes into rules writing?

I think this is something that is intensely personal, and the rationale for writing something can be varied: It may be due to sensing an opening in the hobby space that does not seem to be catered to currently. It may be that I have a personal passion for a given setting or era, or it may simply be that I have a clever game mechanic and want to build a game around it.

The process for me usually starts with sketching out a page or two of keywords, mechanics, and things I’d like to hit on a notepad. Then I work on building it out with simple sketches for the main areas of the mechanics: Activations, movement, shooting, morale, and so forth. Basically, carving out the cornerstones of the game system. At this stage, it is entirely possible it feels like it’s not going anywhere, and it goes in the bin. 

If the core idea seems to have merit in this skeleton form, it’s time to test it out with some generic troops and see if it actually feels fun on the table. From there, you just build out from it: Get other people to read and play it, read it out loud to yourself, etc. Figure out what parts need ironing out and improving and which are good. 

It is really all an iterative process. Once I know the game has legs to stand on, I start writing out the table of contents in advance, so I can “fill in the blanks” as I go. If I know I am going to have a section later for off-map support, I can keep that in mind when I am developing each piece of the mechanics and so forth.

Eventually, any project hits “The Suck (TM).” This is whatever part you hate doing the most, whether it is layout or proofreading or points systems or whatever. For me, it is terrain rules, funny enough. I never read that section of a rulebook, and I never enjoy writing it, but you must. “The Suck” is where your game will probably die because if you let it overcome you, you will put the book down, and every time you click on the word processor, you will immediately be faced with it. The best way to defeat “The Suck” in my experience is caffeine and not letting up: When it starts rearing its ugly head, it is time to keep going and don’t stop until you are through with it. 

Has desktop publishing and PDF only supplements changed the face of the hobby? Has it affected the quality of the product we see today?

Absolutely yeah. It’s not that long ago that a game being available in PDF was a novelty, whereas today, if a game is NOT available in PDF, you are going to lose sales. 

I think the barrier of entry has also dropped dramatically. Even a basic word processing package can churn out a PDF document that you can distribute online or sell. Of course, with proper page layout software, you can achieve much greater results (as some of my friends are rarely missing a chance to tell me), but you need to examine what your skill limit is. Any tool has a skill cap, to borrow a video game term. If you are not currently good enough at what you do to push up against the limitations of your software, burning 200 dollars on new apps will not make your books any better.

It is funny, though, because the wargaming field is so diverse in the type of things we see. You can pick up relatively big-name games that are incredibly plain-looking: Black and white, no art, rudimentary layout. Then right next to it, you see a PDF that is full-color, original artwork, and gorgeous. And the two can be viewed as equal value to the audience. 

Of course, eye candy DOES sell, but I think once you are beyond the Warhammer circles, gamers become a lot more content-focused. 

What are your favorite historical periods and why?

The 19th Century, the two world wars and the Russian Civil War. 

Really, the whole era from circa 1910 to 1925 or so is fascinating to me: It is, of course, the transition of the old, romanticized world to the world of modern warfare, as well as being incredibly diverse in the sort of things you can see. The Russian Civil War sees tanks and armored cars, partisan bands, nationalist militias, Red and White guards, Cossack cavalry armies, Anarchists, and anything else you can shake a stick at. It is really a wargamers heaven for finding odd units to model up on the gaming table.

Honestly, my love of history, in general, comes from one source: “All Quiet on the Western Front.” I think anyone with a passion for history has that moment where they realize that history is not about abstract concepts and kings and dates but is about real people who lived and breathed and had dreams and hopes. “All Quiet” was that for me, and it left a life-long impression on me when I read it as a teenager a few years from the age of the characters in the book.  

What do you see for the future of historical miniature wargaming?

Oof, that is a dangerous question. I think I managed to predict the rise of “Warband” level games (games where you play a small force in skirmish actions and with some level of character progression between games). Right now, that idea has set the fantasy and sci-fi miniatures scenes on fire, with everyone churning out their own version of the concept. 

In historical gaming, there are elements of it, but it has not been embraced to the same extent, possibly due to the grognard bias against skirmish games. I think if I had to put money on something, I would say watch out for historical skirmish games with campaign aspects or character progression in the next year or three.

I also think solo gaming is going to continue to gain in popularity and respectability, with more games developed primarily or even specifically for solo play. I am super excited to see this field because there is a lot of things that can be done here with how enemies arrive on the table, fog of war, and so forth, which is not possible in a conventional opposed game.

Playtesting, how important is it?

Very, but it’s also very misunderstood. I see people post all the time on forums about how they have been testing their game rules for 5 years. That sounds very impressive, but if you are only getting together 3 or 4 times a year in that time frame, you are basically starting over each time. Additionally, just playing the game with your own group is fine to iron out the basic problems of a game, but it will lose its value very quickly. 

To get actual feedback, give the game to people who cannot ask you questions and let them figure it out. Now your text must stand on its own feet and must work without you being there to explain the intentions. That is the real test. I would say three games played by strangers is worth more than ten games with your usual Saturday group. 

Of course, tracking down people who can understand the rules, will play the game, [and] report back to you, AND aren’t crazy is a challenge. If you post online, 50 people will say they would love to, and of those, two will read the book. Once you find reliable people who can give you good feedback, cling to them for dear life. 

 What are the benefits and pitfalls of self-publishing your own wargaming rules?

The biggest advantage is, of course, that you are in charge. What you want in the book goes, if you want a supplement, it will happen, and so forth. Additionally, your game will reflect what you wanted it to be. I think in [self-publishing], you get a lot clearer creative visions and indie gamers tend to gravitate towards that: A game that has something to say on the topic is extremely attractive, even if you disagree with a particular conclusion.

I try to do as much myself as I can, though, of course, I do rely on outside sources for things like artwork, feedback, etc. Part of that is that this way, I know I can support the product down the road: If I want to fix a rule where we came up with a better way of doing it, or I want to add a new section, I can do that. 

The downside, of course, is that you are on your own: Your art is as good as your own wallet can make it, your book looks as good as you can make it (unless you pay for it), and so forth. You also must promote it yourself. If you are writing for something like Osprey, they have marketing power and money to put behind the project. 

Anything else you would like to say to our readers?

Before you write a game, ban yourself from reading any game on the same topic for a few months. If you are writing a WW2 tank game, put all your WW2 games in a box and do not open it. You should be spending that time immersing yourself in the topic in the form of books, music, documentaries, or anything else. Never ever another game.

Also, it cannot hurt to blast some metal albums, at least in my experience. 

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At Epoch Xperience, we specialize in creating compelling narratives and provide research to give your game the kind of details that engage your players and create a resonant world they want to spend time in. If you are interested in learning more about our gaming research services, you can browse Epoch Xperience’s service on our parent site, SJR Research.

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(This article is credited to Jason Weiser. Jason is a long-time wargamer with published works in the Journal of the Society of Twentieth Century Wargamers; Miniature Wargames Magazine; and Wargames, Strategy, and Soldier.)

[daydreamingstories]

It’s a dog’s life Pt.2

*Summary: The reader is new and alone at the quarry’s camp, the only one she has is her dog, who seems to be best friends with Daryl Dixon, a not so friendly man, but that friendship will bring the reader closer to Daryl, finding that there’s more to Daryl than what you can see at first glance…besides, he’s pretty hot at first glance, isn’t him?

*Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

*Tags/Warnings: Slow burn, violence and language twd style, both reader and Daryl’s pov. Follows the events of season 1 and 2.

Chapters: 2/14

Last chapter, Daryl asked to the reader if she wanted to go on a hunting trip with him and the dog...there we go!

*Link to my masterlist with my other works can be found on the description of this blog. I’m sorry for the inconvenience, but tumblr doesn’t show posts with links in the tags.

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A couple of days after Daryl asked you, you joined him on his hunting trip.

You had left the camp early, after having breakfast with Shane and Glenn who were planning a trip to Atlanta for that day or the next. It was the first time Glenn was allowing some of the others to go with him in hopes that together they could find and bring back a bigger haul. Maybe you could join them for the next trip, but for now you were content enough with joining Daryl.

You followed him in silence for hours, Cole running excitedly behind him. You didn’t know where you were going, Daryl walked like he had a map in his head, and you didn’t bother to ask. Sometimes he stopped to look around like he was tracking something and then he would keep walking.

Daryl didn’t say a single word to you, you could think that he had even forgotten about you if it weren’t because when he seemed to notice you were getting behind, he would slow his pace until you caught up. He didn’t say anything about it, and neither did you. Cole ignored you more than what you would have liked, seeming overexcited about the trip.

Honestly, you were enjoying it too. You always liked to hike through the woods, and you had spent quite a bit of time in them. Not as much as Daryl, apparently, neither were you an expert like he seemed to be. But you enjoyed being out there nonetheless and you tried to pay attention to the way in which Daryl moved, especially when he seemed to track something, hoping to learn a thing or two, though you weren’t having much success.

You supposed you ought to be scared, but you weren’t. You hadn’t seen any walker around yet and anyway you trusted Daryl. He was skillful at noticing them and putting them down, and he always came back safe and sound from his trips, always keeping your dog safe too. You couldn’t help but feel he’d keep all of you safe.

“Shouldn’t we be hunting?” You asked after hours of walking without Daryl shooting anything. You were starting to get tired and bored of walking non-stop, even though you were used to walking.

“Not yet, I want to go further than usual. Told you.” Daryl answered without stopping or looking at you.

“Okay…” You looked around at the maze of trees. “How do you know where you are going and how to come back and all that?” You were starting to get bored at the lack of conversation.

“I just do.” Daryl didn’t seem that talkative, though.

“I mean…I could usually get oriented with my compass and all that, with the sun too a little…but this…right now I don’t know where I am, all trees look the same.” You admitted.

“Said you can get oriented with the sun? Then it’s easy.” Daryl finally stopped though he didn’t quite look at you. “Camp is there, that’s where we have to go to come back.” He pointed to what you thought was the south. “That’s the area where I’ve gone most times.” He pointed to the north. “And there’s where I found the deer, I want to go further than what I did that day.” He pointed to the west and began walking in that direction again.

“Alright…” You were glad he had stopped to teach you something, though you weren’t sure you’d be quite able to go back to the camp by yourself. It’d be easier now that you could get oriented a bit better, though. “Can you get oriented with the stars?”

“Not much.” He answered without looking at you.

“I can, a little bit, my mom taught me. I could teach you what I know if you want…” You were expecting him to snap or tell you to shut up, but he didn’t, he just nodded.

Daryl didn’t stop again until a couple of hours later.

“This is where I found the deer, more or less…” He said more to himself than to you. “We could set camp in that clear.”

“Okay.”

You began walking towards the clear Daryl had pointed, him right behind you, looking around. Once there, you flopped down onto the ground.

“What you doing?” Daryl frowned at you.

“You said we’re gonna set camp here.” You replied, stretching your legs.

“Get off your ass, there’s still a few sun hours left.” He grumbled.

“Alright…” You let out a tired sigh.

Daryl looked at you for a second, chewing on his lip, before averting his eyes again.

“Stay here, I’m going to hunt us dinner.” He said.

“No, no, I’ll go with you.”

Daryl had taken you hunting with him, you didn’t want to look lazy, and you didn’t want him having to go alone when you were there. Neither did you want to stay alone in the woods, no matter Daryl was around and you hadn’t seen any walker.

“Okay, come on.”

You followed him in silence as he walked, tracking and looking around as if in deep thought.

“We’ll follow that direction tomorrow.” He murmured and you nodded though you didn’t know if he was talking to you or not…maybe he was talking to Cole.

“You don’t need to hunt us dinner, we have that can of beans.” You said quietly.

“We better save the cans for when we don’t have nothing else…hush.”

There was a sound up in a tree and you looked up to find a squirrel sniffing the air on a tree branch. Before it could know what was happening, Daryl had already shot it. You wondered if he ever missed.

Back at the clear, you worked on getting a small fire going while Daryl skinned the squirrel and got it ready. By the time you were dining on roasted squirrel, the sun was starting to go down, and you admired the sunset, beautiful even after the world had gone to hell.

Daryl was silent the whole time, although you caught him looking at you through the corner of his eye from time to time.

“What?” You asked, curious.

“Nothing.” He looked away and you could swear he was blushing.

“Come on!” You nudged his foot with yours and he moved his foot away. “Just tell me.”

“You told me you worked in the woods…” Daryl eventually said, when you thought he wouldn’t. “Was it true?”

“Well…kind of…I mean…”

“So it wasn’t?” Daryl cut you off.

“It’s not that.” You said, defensively. You wanted to come clean with him but you didn’t know how to do it without seeming like you had been lying and trying to impress him. “It’s…I worked in the woods, sometimes, but not as you’re expecting it, probably…”

Daryl raised his eyebrows at you, waiting for you to explain it.

“Alright…I lived with my parents in a village, it’s not that far from here actually, in a big country house that my parents also used as a bed & breakfast. They’d organize all kind of “adventure” activities for our guests, like we’d take them for trips to the nearby forest, hiking and all that, camp for a night if they wanted, take them to the river for fishing, canoeing or whatever…that kind of stuff…”

Daryl hummed, he wasn’t saying anything but he seemed interested in what you were saying, so you kept going.

“I joined them whenever I could since I was little, and once I finished high school I officially joined the business, and at some point, it was me who did the outdoor activities while my parents worked at home. So, that is.”

“So you did spend a lot of time in the woods,” Daryl said when you were finished. “Doing weird shit to entertain people, but whatever.” That made you snort, and you nudged him with your shoulder.

“I guess…I don’t really know how to survive or anything, I don’t know half the stuff my parents did, they were the experts. I just took people through the same paths always, camped in the same places, showed them the same stuff…”

“What did you show them?”

“Nothing special…just the animals we crossed paths with, like different birds and all that. The different trees and plants, and all that, like what kind of mushrooms and berries they could eat, which plants can be medicinal, stuff that my mother taught me. I just know the most basic, not even half of what my mom knew.”

“When you go to the woods near the camp you always come back with berries and mushrooms, Amy said you taught her which ones she could pick,” Daryl said, surprising you. “And you’re always picking up plants, you were doing it today as you walked too.” Another surprise, you didn’t know Daryl had noticed it or paid attention.

“Yeah well…I bet you know all about that too.” After all, Daryl seemed to spend more time in the woods than out.

“Not really.” He shrugged. “I mean, that one time I got lost in the woods for days as a kid I knew which berries wouldn’t kill me to eat but I wiped my ass with poison oak so…”

You bursted laughing at that, you couldn’t help it, and you grinned when you heard Daryl chucking too.

“You getting lost in the woods? Nah, I can’t believe it.”

“I was little, but I found my way back home and I never got lost again.” Daryl shrugged.

“Little you found the way back home all alone? Yeah, that does sound like you.” You grinned again. “I can see you with your little crossbow and what not.” You teased and Daryl scoffed, blushing, though the corner of his mouth lifted  in a tiny smile.

“Didn’t have a crossbow yet, wasn’t good at hunting either. Took me nine days to find my way back and I was so hungry once home I made the biggest sandwich I’ve ever eaten.”

“You were out there for nine days?!” Truly Daryl had been a survivor since he was little. “None went looking for you?”

“Merle was in juvie. Dad wasn’t around, he was off with a waitress I think, he never knew I was gone, don’t think he’d have cared.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. Neither Merle nor Daryl had ever talked about their family, and you were saddened by what you were hearing. It seemed little Daryl hadn’t really had someone taking care of him, and it hurt you more than what you had expected.

“When he came back home and found I’d emptied the fridge to make that sandwich he wasn’t happy, though…” Daryl said quietly.

“Well, your father sounds like an ass.” You said, unable to stop yourself.

“Yeah, yeah he was.”

You didn’t want Daryl to keep thinking about that, sure it wasn’t bringing him good memories, and so you thought about something to say.

“I could teach you the plants I know.” You tried. “So you don’t end up wiping your ass with poison oak again.”

“I know what poison oak looks like,” Daryl replied, nudging your foot with his and rolling his eyes.

“I’m still waiting for you to teach me to shoot your crossbow…”

You had tried it a couple times more, but it was still difficult for you to hit your target. Although Daryl had, reluctantly, let you try, he hadn’t taught you anything and you thought you’d learn faster if he did.

“Can you really shoot a bow?” Daryl asked. “Cos you’re shit with the crossbow.”

“Shut up!”

Daryl was smiling softly, though, so you knew he was just joking. Still, it was true you weren’t exactly good with the crossbow.

“I’ll let you know that I’m quite good with a bow. My father taught me, I’ve been shooting bows since I was a little girl. Never hunting or anything like that, just for fun, sometimes we taught our guests as another activity.” You explained. “My dad liked to handmade custom bows and arrows…He made me my own bow when I was sixteen. I wish I had it with me.” You let out a sad sigh but tried not to let the memories get you down, burying them deep inside you again. “You make your own arrows too, right?”

Daryl nodded.

“Dad taught me, though I didn’t like to make arrows that much, it was too much work. Not sure if the ones we made for bows could work in a crossbow, though. We could try.”

“Yeah.”

“Did you work in the woods too?” You asked. “Or it was just a hobby?”

“You should sleep, got to wake up early tomorrow,” Daryl said instead of answering your questions.

You were surprised by his sudden change of topic, but you decided not to push it. You shifted until you were down on your back over the blanket that you had spread and you looked up at the stars.

“That’s the north star.” You said, pointing at the bright star. “You know that one, right.”

Daryl hummed a yes and you began telling him what your mother had told you about the stars, how to navigate with them, track the past of time, even some stories here and there.

“That’s ridiculous,” Daryl said as you told him about the hunter Orion, though that constellation wasn’t visible. “You bury the hide of a bull and you pee on it and then a kid grows like a potato?”

“Yeah, I know.” You chuckled. “Gods do stuff like that sometimes I guess. Anyway, I don’t like Orion that much, he was always boasting about what a good hunter he was, said he’d hunt every single wild animal, the ass, as if animals hadn’t the right to live here too.”

“You seemed quite upset with a potato kid that never existed.”

“Can’t help it.” You shrugged, smiling. “Goddess Artemis wasn’t having that though, so she sent Scorpio to kill Orion, Orion couldn’t escape and that was the death of the potato hunter.”

“A scorpion killed him? Then he wasn’t that good of a hunter.”

“Mind you, it was a damn giant scorpion. Look,” You pointed at Scorpio. “He’s still there, chasing after Orion forever.”

You were enjoying this, telling Daryl everything you knew about the stars, telling him stories. You turned your head to look at him and smiled. He was sitting down, head tilted back as he looked up at the stars, frown on his face.

“Doesn’t look like a scorpion to me…” He muttered.

“Yeah, neither to me.” You chuckled and Daryl looked at you with a small smile on his face. “Can’t see any form in the stars, actually, but it’s fun anyway.”

You stiffed a yawn, you were tired after spending all day walking and you were beginning to feel sleepy, your eyelids getting heavy. Daryl noticed.

“Sleep.” He told you. “I’ll keep watch.”

“Alright.” You were dead tired. “Wake me up so you can sleep too, okay?”

The weather was summery good but you covered yourself with a thin blanket as you curled up onto your side. Your dog had fallen asleep long ago, bored at your conversation about stars, and you smiled looking at him growling softly from time to time as if dreaming.

Your smile widened when you looked at Daryl. This was the longest you had spent with him and you were enjoying it so much, you could just hope he’d want to take you hunting with him more times.

It was the longest you had talked to him too, and although it’d been you doing most of the talking, you were happily surprised Daryl had gotten to share with you some things about his past. You found yourself wanting to know him more.

You still didn’t know if you were friends or not, but you wanted to. Daryl could be surly and harsh with words sometimes, but you appreciated his company nonetheless and liked to talk to him, especially when he decided to speak too, day by day you were surer he was a really good guy.

When he wasn’t with his brother, then he was alone, and you felt drawn to him somehow. Maybe it was because he had found you and taken you to the camp, maybe it was because he had taken a liking on your dog, or maybe just because you thought you both were lonely, but you liked to be with him.

You hadn’t really developed friendships with the people at the camp. You talked with everybody, well, besides Ed, and you didn’t talk that much with Merle if you could help it either, but besides those two, you liked the people you now lived with, you had fun with them and appreciated them, but you wouldn’t really say you were friends yet.

It wasn’t like you were shy or anything like that, you had always found it easy to get along with people, to talk with them, but you were used to people coming and going out of your life without staying for too long, and so you had never developed a deep friendship with anyone, you had never relied on any friend, besides your dog.

It seems it was the same now with these people, it was easy for you to get along with them, have fun, help them, talk to them, but you knew you weren’t a priority for anyone, which you didn’t mind that much anyway. Most of them were families or had someone to rely on already, and you felt out of place. Not with Daryl, though.

Still smiling, you closed your eyes and fell asleep, sure that you had nothing to worry about in that wood with Daryl next to you.

When you woke up, you knew by the position of the stars that several hours had passed and Daryl hadn’t woken you up.

“Hey,” you rubbed your eyes as you sat up. “Told you to wake me up.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, come on, you can still get some sleep before the sunrise.” You insisted but Daryl shook his head. “You need sleep too, I’ll even let you snuggle with Cole.” Your dog opened a sleepy eye at the mention of his name.

“I don’t snuggle with none,” Daryl grumbled.

“Sure, okay.” You chuckled quietly. “Come on, we can be arguing about it for the rest of the night instead of sleeping or you can get a bit of sleep.”

“Fine…”

Reluctantly, he lied down on the ground, turning onto his side, his back to you. Once you were sure he was asleep, you got up and laid your thin blanket over him carefully so as not to wake him.

Cole stirred and yawned as he noticed you moving.

“Sleep, boy.” You whispered, sitting down again.

Your dog got up but only to get closer to you, resting his head on your thigh as he lied down again.

“You do like to snuggle, don’t you?” You said fondly, patting Cole’s head and scratching him behind the ears. “His loss…”

When the first rays of sun began to beam, Daryl woke up. As soon as Cole noticed him stirring, he ran to him and began trying to lick his face.

“Damn, dog!” Daryl grumbled as he tried to dodge the licks, pushing Cole away. “Get off me!”

You could see he was smiling, though, and you rolled your eyes. Daryl was such a softie with your dog.

“Morning, Daryl.” You greeted. “Bet you have never had someone so excited to wake up next to you.” You joked.

“What?” Daryl looked at you weird.

“Nothing…” You chuckled. “Breakfast?”

Same that you had done the day before, you followed Daryl in silence. Every time he shot a squirrel you tried to pay attention to the way in which he wielded the crossbow, the way he aimed, trying to learn something for the next time he let you try.

As you walked, you picked up some herbs here and there.

“This one helps if you have an upset stomach,” you were telling Daryl. “Got a lot of them already, I guess it might be useful if-”

You stopped talking when Daryl hushed you and you followed his gaze to find a rabbit eating grass some meters away, still unaware of your presence. Unfortunately, Cole noticed too, and he began running to him and barking, scaring him away.

“Shit, dog, no!” Daryl rushed after the dog and the rabbit.

“Cole!” You ran behind them too. “Come here!”

Your dog finally listened, running back to you, but the rabbit was gone.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized to Daryl. “He’s sorry too.”

“Nah, he ain’t.” Daryl didn’t seem mad, though. “Told you, he’s a shit of a hunter.”

“He does this when you take him hunting?”

“Sometimes.” Daryl shrugged and began walking again.

“Then why you take him with you?”

Daryl didn’t answer and you smiled, shaking your head. He did like your dog’s company, but he’d never admit it.

“Anyway, I’m gonna teach him to stop barking, so…” He said without looking at you.

“Good luck with that.”

“Bet he’ll learn before you can hunt something.”

You saw his face and knew he was joking. Before you could say anything, though, you heard some movement coming from behind some trees and you saw a walker limping towards you.

“It’s okay.”

Daryl said, aiming and hitting the monster in the middle of the forehead with his arrow.

“You think the barks drew it to us?” You asked while Daryl retrieved his arrow.

“Yeah…another reason to teach him to stay silent…come on, be quiet.”

You kept following Daryl, trying to stay as quiet as possible, until he stopped and bent down to look at the ground. You didn’t notice the footprints until Daryl pointed them to you.

“Deer?”

He nodded, small smile on his face.

“Let’s go.”

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I loved to write this chapter, and I hope you all enjoyed it!

Thank you all for reading! I hope you liked it! If you have a moment, please let me know your thoughts in the comments, your feedback makes my day!

As always, English is not my first language so sorry if there are mistakes.

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[pasteltofus]

1 Year of Learning Korean

One of the most popular questions I’ve gotten since coming back from Korea is: Are you fluent in Korean now??*

*Spoilers: I am not. 🙃

Looking back, I probably would have become more conversational if I had just done a 3-month intensive program. Although, compared to just learning by myself in the Bay Area, being in Korea definitely gave me more opportunities and motivation. I was placed in the high intermediate class for orientation (switched to low intermediate), but I would say that I’m now truly at an intermediate level. I think my Korean’s more or less the same as my Japanese (which has regressed a lot, and I only took 3 semesters in college) but with very shaky foundations. 

Anyways, here’s a brief timeline of what I did this grant year. Let’s go~

[Initiate lock n’ load montage]

July

Korean Intensive Program (8-12pm, 1-2pm M-F) 

Because of how the program was structured, I didn’t feel like I learned very much. This is partly why my foundation is so full of holes...we skipped around here and there. 

August

Korean Intensive Program

September

Korean was put on pause due to troubles adjusting to homestay

October

Occasionally did a few chapters of Billy Go’s Korean Made Simple at school 

Studied some Korean vocab 

November

???

December

I don’t think I studied Korean at all

January

Got a wakeup call when I spent 5 minutes trying to read the back of a sign at a smoothie shop and realized how slow I was at reading

February

Vocab grind (1000 Essential Korean Words), plan was to finish by the end of March. Two weeks of intense vocabulary cramming on Quizlet (did nothing in the end lol don’t try that)

Bought the Real Life Conversations Intermediate book

Studied Korean in Kpop lyrics

Started a side coding project to help my touch typing (K-pop lyric typing game)

March

Memorized dialogues from Real Life Conversations book with Lauren

Improved reading skills slightly by listening and following along with the audio recordings that come with the book

Read through the dialogues with the Korean literature teacher in my gyomushil

Continued to learn song lyrics

Wrote sentences with each new vocabulary word, got my co-teacher and the Korean literature teacher to check them (<-this was probably the most helpful game changer...it helped a lot with my spelling too)

Continued working on the K-pop typing game

April

Stopped learning new vocab at around Chapter 11 of Essential Words, focused on retaining old vocab through Anki flash cards

Finished the Go! Billy Korean Made Simple book that I bought ages ago (tbh it was too easy for me at this point but I was just too lazy)

Finally sat down and “learned” Korean verb conjugations (I’d just been going by gut instinct before…tbh I still kind of do 😅)

Kind of dropped the typing game after finishing the MVP 😅but I’m gonna try to finish it up now that I’m back

May

Started to panic about leaving Korea in 2.5 months but still sucking at Korean

Signed up for private lessons once a week for 90 minutes (My tutor asked me to give her a shout out. Her name is 서영심 (bwv830@gmail.com). If you’re in the Cheongju/Ochang area, she comes to you! She’s very professional and you’ll get your money’s worth.)

Started at the intermediate book that focused on grammar

Learned ~5 grammar points every week

Started writing and reading a lot more and actually seeing how words are spelled. The first time I saw 여기--a super common word (yogi) that means here--written out I thought it was so strange...not that I had thought it was 요기 (also pronounced yogi) but I just didn’t have a visual of it in my head, I guess.

June

Depressed about lack of improvement

Continued with private lessons but felt like I wasn’t really retaining the grammar dump from each week

At the very least, Korean homework kept me on track and made me practice even when I didn’t want to

Started Anki again since I hadn’t actively studied vocab since April.

An old K.Will song that I hadn’t listened to for a long time came up and I realized I could suddenly understand the lyrics. That was pretty cool and one of my small win moments.  

July

Feeling pretty hopeless with Korean

However, hung out with more Korean friends that only spoke Korean and felt like I was actually able to contribute to the conversation. (3 hours of Korean Listening ...🙃)

Was able to understand 70% of the conversation at my gyomushil’s final farewell lunch for me. I contributed to the gossip! 

Went home and immediately lost 50% of my Korean skills upon touching U.S. soil. 

So basically, after my burst of inspiration in February, my confidence and motivation in Korean just kept plummeting. Even now as I write up this post I feel an overwhelming sense of hopelessness. But I do want to highlight the progress that I’ve made since orientation.

Korean Reading

We were all supposed to be able to read Hangul before we came to Korea. Being able to recognize the alphabet is different from being able to read and also different from knowing the pronunciation rules and where to pause in your reading. During my first semester, my eyes would automatically glaze over whenever I saw Korean text. When the second semester started, I tried to force myself to read everything I came across - storefronts, street signs, advertisements on buses, etc. Even if I didn’t know what it meant, I would force myself to read it. Right now, I can navigate a Korean shopping website and read a menu semi-comfortably. I’m still waiting for the day when I’ll see English sounding hangul and be able to read it as fast as English. Although, I will say it’s really nice to be able to read the Korean titles in Kpop videos on Youtube, especially when I come across really old songs (like Super Junior’s No Other 너 같은 사람 또 없어) and realize I now know what it means. 

Also, a new world that has opened up to me is...노래방!! Karaoke is such an adrenaline rush. I’d compare it to sight-reading or DDR/rhythm games where you know something is coming up and the satisfaction you get when you get it right with the beat of the music is 👌. It’s so gratifying to be able to sing along...거기 너 I FANCY YOU 아무나 원하지 않아 HEY! I love you (LOVE YA)!! 

Korean Writing

Back during orientation, I couldn’t spell anything on my own. I knew words every koreaboo knew like 어떻게 and 괜찮아 but I couldn’t write it because I didn’t know how spelling worked. It’s no wonder my spelling didn’t improve since a) I didn’t write and b) I didn’t even read. Even now I still make a lot of spelling mistakes, but I pay attention to words when I see them. It’s still a very slow process, but now I can picture the hangul in my head when I think of the word. 

Typing: I started orientation with around 15 wpm, then by the end of orientation I got to around 30 wpm. Currently, I’m at 60 wpm when I start cold and after I get warmed up I can go up to 80wpm. Being able to touch type is so useful, especially when I’m typing up long sentences from my textbook and I don’t have to look up.

Korean Listening

Dare I say...my Korean listening is my strongest point??? I remember when I took French listening tests in high school, I would always lament with everyone else that they spoke too fast for me to understand. But interestingly, for both Japanese and Korean, I never had that problem. If it only contains words and grammar I know, I can understand it perfectly fine even if it’s fast. I intuitively understand most Korean verb endings and exclamations so it’s not hard to know which way the conversation is flowing or when to interject with “세상에,” “맞아 맞아,” or “말도 안돼.” I used to think my poor lack of vocabulary was the number 1 thing blocking me from understanding, but then I learned more grammar and realized the things I didn’t know. I do feel like parts of the fog are being lifted...sometimes...

Korean Speaking: 

I still feel pretty embarrassed when I speak Korean because there are some sounds that I can’t pronounce. Compared to orientation, I have a few more stock phrases tucked and ready to go, but I still feel unable to express myself. Every conversation will start out fine, but they’ll all stagnate to the same topics and sentences after a while. 

Complications with other languages

I talked about how knowing some Japanese and Chinese was both an advantage and a disadvantage during my beginning stages, but this is true even now. 

Ever since I started getting more comfortable with typing and spelling Korean, I’ve started seeing the actual Hangul in my head when I think/hear Korean. I’ve also started to associate the locations of the Hangul characters with their locations on the Korean keyboard. 

One day, I was trying to text back my mom with “那是什么?” (Na Shi Shen Me/What’s that?) but was confused because those characters weren’t showing up. Then I realized I was typing “sk” instead of “na.” Some of you guys might get it....because “s” is where ㄴ(n) is and k is where ㅏ(a) is on the Korean keyboard. Clearly, my brain can’t handle it. It’s interesting because both the Japanese and Chinese keyboard uses the same alphabet placements as English.

Another time: I was watching a Talk To Me in Korean video where Hyunwoo talked about how 하다 is a very versatile verb. I immediately thought about how the Japanese equivalent is 수루 and even mentally mapped it out on the Korean keyboard...before realizing this is WRONG, WRONG, it’s する not 수루 LOUISE WHAT ARE YOU EVEN DOING. (They are both pronounced suru)

What’s next? 

Now that I’m back in the States, it’s going to take even more determination and self-discipline to keep up with my Korean. But I really don’t want everything I’ve worked towards to just wash down the drain. I’ll aim to finish my intermediate grammar textbook and grind anki flashcards. Hopefully, I can find a language partner or a study group. We’ll see! 

[operationrainfall]

Title My Friend Pedro Developer Deadtoast Publisher Devolver Digital Release Date June 20th, 2019 Genre Bullet Ballet Platform Steam, Nintendo Switch Age Rating T for Teen – Blood, Violence, Language Official Website

I’ve been looking forward to My Friend Pedro since I demoed it last year at PAX West. It’s not often you see a concept so wacky nor a control scheme so ambitious. In many ways, this is the closest we’ll probably get to a true Deadpool videogame, and that’s something developer Deadtoast seems to be very aware of. They play with reality as you progress, as well as poke fun at gamers and the industry at large. The simple question then is this: was My Friend Pedro worth the wait? Or was this banana not quite ripe yet?

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You start by waking up in an industrial facility next to a talking banana named Pedro. Don’t expect how that’s possible to get explained, cause this isn’t that sort of game. Since you’re understandably confused, Pedro explains why you’re there and what your goal is. Turns out there’s a butcher that isn’t very particular about the meat he uses, and your goal is to put him down permanently. As the game continues, other events transpire that require your skillful execution of other bad people. Thankfully, despite your amnesia, you still have incredible muscle memory. Whoever you are, you’re a killing machine, and you quickly find a pair of pistols to prove how adept you are. Over the course of the game you’ll find many other weapons, such as a pair of uzis, an assault rifle and even a sniper rifle, but your pistols are the only weapons with infinite ammo. Everything else you’ll need to find more ammo for by taking out goons. Additionally, you will find healing kits as you progress, though thankfully you have a healing factor, and will recover health so long as you aren’t taking damage. You have three bars of health, so if you are cautious, you can stay at full health for a very long time. But if you’re not so careful, the game has plenty of helpful checkpoints where you can respawn after you’re slagged.

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The combat is the main draw of the game, other than the zany premise, and it asks a lot of you. I played on the lowest difficulty and still found it very challenging. That was mostly because of how many actions are mapped to the left Joy-Con. Not only does that joystick control your movement, pressing it activates your Focus mode, where you can momentarily slow down time. Also, the L button controls your dodge and the ZL allows you to split your aim and shoot in two directions at once. Meanwhile, ZR fires your bullets and the right joystick lets you aim your guns. If you think that sounds like a bit much to keep straight, you’d be right, especially when you factor in you can also kick enemies with X and will have sections where you’re riding a skateboard or a motorcycle. My Friend Pedro is an utter delight when you reach that zen moment and everything is working, but don’t expect that to last forever; this is a truly challenging game that expects you to do your absolute best.

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In fact, the game does score you at the end of each level. I got a couple of coveted S scores, but many more Bs and Cs. To get an S, you have to get through a stage pretty much without dying once and keep your combo going by continuously murdering everything in sight and avoiding most damage. While that is possible, it’s also quite rare, or it was for me. Thankfully, I found that by being stubborn and persisting I could beat every level. But if you’re one of those hardcore gamers that has to get a perfect score for every stage, be ready to spend a long time replaying each one.

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Despite my complaints, I did enjoy the combat. I felt like I was cast in some John Woo movie, flipping around, surprising foes and dodging goons armed to the teeth. For most of the game, I stuck with my trusty pistols, since I love infinite ammo, but the later parts required me to equip my heavy artillery. Mostly this was because the foes in those sections have body armor and rapid-firing guns, so you’ll be mincemeat if you stand there trading bullets with slow firing pistols. And while you can use your Focus to slow down time, it doesn’t make you bulletproof in the slightest. Your only way of avoiding bullets is using L to dodge, which makes you do a fancy spin. It also changes where your guns are aiming, so it’s a bit of a trade off. My favorite portions in the game were when I was swinging from a zip line spraying lead, or using metal signs and frying pans to deflect bullets in crazy directions. You’ll also occasionally be able to use explosives found around the levels to great effect, but only if you can shoot them before you get discovered. Oh and quick pro tip: if you need to reload and are surrounded, use the kick attack. It’s just as fatal as your bullets, just a bit slower. The only real downsides are that the range is shitty and kicking doesn’t seem to contribute to your combo meter.

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Besides the combat, there are also puzzle and platforming sections in the game. Oddly, these were perhaps my favorite parts, though that’s likely because I’ve played far too many platformers in my life. It was just nice to bounce around and wall jump without worrying about bullets coming my way. It was fun rolling through narrow ducts and shooting switches to trigger them from afar. I also really liked a few sections late in the game that are pure platforming terror, with lasers chasing you and proximity mines flinging themselves at your head. Frankly, I felt these sections were more intuitive and clear-cut than the combat-oriented ones, which is a bit of a shame, especially given how much the game is focused on the over-the-top combat.

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It wouldn’t be an over-the-top game without over-the-top bosses, and thankfully My Friend Pedro delivers on that front. Each and every boss is totally different, and blisteringly difficult. The first boss you fight while riding a motorcycle. Another memorable one chases you in a helicopter as you run screaming. There’s even one fight where it’s just you versus another incredibly nimble and dangerous armed gunman. I really thought all the boss fights brought a lot to the game, and my only real complaint is that there weren’t more of them. Having said that, the final boss fight in the game redeemed the game in many ways, and was an utter joy.

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Visually, My Friend Pedro is attractive and runs at a fast clip. I never encountered any slowdown, other than when I was using Focus to literally slow things down. While I do wish there was a bit more variety for the backgrounds and even enemy types, what was on display was well animated. Get ready to see a lot of human goons, robots and various deathtraps. There’s also some good use of unconventional colors like yellows, grays and reds. The one section that completely impressed me visually is when you go to Pedro’s World for a few very strange levels, which have colorful pastels and background pieces that would be right at home in a Runner game. Musically, the best I can say is that it’s inoffensive. I just really didn’t notice the music much while I was playing, and can’t even recall any standout songs. There were lots of great sound effects though, especially the weird whistle that plays at the end of each level.

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Though I mostly enjoyed my time with My Friend Pedro, there are a couple of problems that I need to mention. One was what I already mentioned about the complexity of the controls. While it’s true you can remap them, I’m not sure that would help much given the sheer amount of things you need to do. More problematic was that many times when I would use ZL to split aim, my Focus would abruptly end, and time would speed back up. This happened on multiple occasions, and each time my Focus meter wasn’t depleted. As a result, I mostly stopped using split aim, and just got more aggressive to compensate for it. Another issue was that in the skateboard sections, it was way too easy to flip off the damned thing, and very difficult to flip it back upright. Lastly, I just felt there were some sections that needed better signposting. I got stuck a handful of times as I played the various puzzle sections, and often had to die and restart to figure out what I was doing wrong. Other than these issues, the game was enjoyable.

Who is that masked man?

Overall though, I did rather enjoy My Friend Pedro. It’s far from perfect, but there’s lots of ingenuity and ambition on display here from the folks at Deadtoast. Though the plot was a bit psychotic and hard to parse at times, the humor kept me invested. For $19.99 I got about 10 hours of gameplay out of it, and had a good time. If nothing else, this is another worthy game that Devolver Digital has in their stable. Now I just hope we get a sequel that smooths over the issues I mentioned and explains the ending of the game…

[easyreview cat1title=”Overall” cat1detail=”” cat1rating=”4″]

Review Copy Provided by Publisher

REVIEW: My Friend Pedro Title My Friend Pedro

[dsknsk]

Can't stop thinking about this game I was obsessed with in 2016/2017.

Like it's now coming back to me. Now it's out of service, but I remember how different the characters were and the combat (which included real-life location based stuff. Like missions would be 'located' at places near you. You didn't need to physically go there but it was a very fun thing). It was turnbased but the characters were on a grid map you moved them across to the enemies on the other side. They could be equipped with items like first aid kits and stuff, but those were not the stuff they fought with. No, they had skills you could activate by drawing a line through the needed charms within ~5 secs or something (my reaction speed was at a goddamn peak. Suddenly I could catch things mere seconds before they fell).

I still remember the characters the best though. Although I didn't get to play all of them, I did unlock the majority. All of them had their own unique approach to battle, no one was niche and there was no rarity system, because you could get all the characters eventually. No gacha, no paid characters. None of that (which might be the reason it didn't survive).

Your two starters were Adam White (as in Adam Weishaupt. He's the white-haired guy on the right) and the alien guy on the left. The alien guy had an inexplicable Italian accent and would even use Italian words mixed in his speech. Unfortunately I forgot his name lol. Iirc they were both survival-based. The alien guy could see through obstacles and had quite some HP. Adam was more reliant on his skills for survival.

The green-haired girl at the bottom right was likely my third character. Nikita Tesla. Now she was the embodiment of a lightning bruiser. Somewhat literally as she had a skill that could 'chain' between enemies via electricity (like a Chain Caster, but actually good). She didn't have lots of HP but made up for it by being able to hit multiple enemies really quickly.

After that, I think I got Lazarus and Astrid (the guy with the fedora on the right and the purple-haired girl on the left). Mentioning them together as Astrid was his apprentice and their kits were sort of similar. Lazarus was able to soak up lots of damage while also being capable of dealing it back. Used him quite a lot on the field. Astrid was more damage-focused though. She was a Swedish opera singer and her skill names referenced that.

I think I got Alice after them. She's the white-haired girl standing next to Adam on the right. They were brother and sister and there was something bad between them going on. She was Adam's defensive counterpart, while still being able to move across the field nimbly owing to her being a dancer.

The girl with the blue hair at the left was Rei Al-Khwarizmi. Her last name wasn't really mentioned in the story itself but Rei = zero and her last name obviously refers to the scientist. She was an AI that was originally an enemy as she had gone berserk (or something) with a red color palette and all. Nikita left our two starters before their fight. Playstyle-wise, she was defensive but had her offensively-oriented berserk state kept, who was playable as well. My character Rei is sort of named after her.

Those are the ones I remember the best. For the others, there was Ku-ku, a panda-creature who I only got later (very strength/attack oriented). I never got the short-haired girl at the bottom left, but I remember her having a Burn damage gimmick. The two other characters at the left side were related to eachother as well and had a shadow clone gimmick. The blonde girl at the right was the one-to-last I got my hands on. She had a literal bookworm and was defensive.

The last character to be released...I don't remember her name. It was a girl from Malaysia who could command bugs.

Sometimes I just think back at it.

[trendingjobs]

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