#a thousand thanks to allie for the help getting this posted!! their advice got the set out of tumblr prison LMAO. but S3! Lets go!

[emblazons]

"I'm not gonna...fall in love."

STRANGER THINGS SANS VISAGE S03E01 - Suzie, Do You Copy?

[lord-of-the-queers]

The Fellowship reacts to ur top surgery

((This is 100% self indulgent. im dysphoric and in need of validation ok leave me be))

At least in my experience, showing off ur chest after surgery is a trans thing. Trans femmes, trans mascs, androgynous non-binary ppl, agender ppl, doesn’t matter. Makes sense too, when at least in the US u pay thousands for that designer chest. So here’s my take on how the fellowship would react. CW for top surgery and the things that come with it. Also for those who are pre op and dealing w dysphoria it could b emotional.

Gandalf would give u advice beforehand, telling u what to ask ur surgeon, walking u through the procedure and what to expect in recovery. Upon seeing ur chest post op for the first time he’d prob say something like “ah yes, fine work indeed. Be sure to thank your surgeon for me.”

Aragorn, man of few words, will simply high five u n say “nice”

Legolas would 100% be the “OOH IT LOOKS SO GOOD” kind of friend, u know? Prob would ask lots of questions abt the procedure and healing process.

I 100% believe and support the headcanon that dwarves are super chill abt gender. They do not give a fuck and i love it. So gimli being himself would prob react like an overly proud dad. like “YEEESSS!!!” (U know, like the one part at the end of FOTR) and attempt to raise u up on his shoulders. Depending on what race u see urself as In Middle Earth, he’d have varying degrees of success.

Merry: *lifts shirt* hey me too! Teet yeet buddies ((I love trans merry so much I’m physically shaking. Trans Meriadoc rights))

Pippin, upon hearing abt loss of sensation after surgery, would start repeatedly poking ur chest (with consent) saying “well can you feel this? what about this?” He’ll also bring up how he’s heard of ppls n!p grafts falling off after surgery and will ask u if ur worried abt that, and what u would do if they did fall off. U can’t tell if he’s being serious. Also bc I’m a believer in genderfluid/genderqueer pippin, i feel like he’d def make t!tty exchange program jokes.

Ik a lot of ppl headcanon him as being a little transphobic but I’ve always headcanoned Boromir as the person who takes time to learn but once he does is aggressively affirming and pro trans rights. Or like the ally who’s the embodiment of the “he a little confused but he got the spirit” meme. So like he doesn’t get it but he recognizes it makes u happy and is happy for u bc of that. Also he will 100% go up to bat for u. He may not always say the right things but he’ll show up when it matters. I think he’d be curious abt the process and want to ask u abt it, but would b nervous to say the wrong things.

Sam is the person who asks abt ur recovery, checking in to make sure ur feeling ok, and is ur after surgery support. He’ll help u for the first couple weeks after, make sure ur taking ur meds when u need to and u have everything u need to make recovery as quick and easy as possible. He also learned as much abt it before hand as possible, even asking ur surgeon more questions than u did. Upon seeing ur chest for the first time, he’ll make comments abt how it’s healing very well, and ask if u have been doing everything the doctors said.

I feel like Frodo would say something v intuitive. “I’m not sure if this is an alright thing to say, but this looks right on you. I’m not sure how to explain it. It just seems better for you. Like a weight is gone. You look happier, is what i mean.”

Bonus:

The Fellowship as a whole, but specifically the Rich Boy Squad (Merry, Pippin, Frodo, Legolas and Boromir) see to it that everything is covered, so u don’t have to worry abt the cost

U express concerns abt post op depression/regret and some of the members of the fellowship (u decide who) help u write letters to remind urself why u did it in the first place.

U go swimming for the first time post op w the Fellowship and it’s one of the best and most affirming experiences ever.

I don’t know why. I can’t explain. But I’ve decided gimli is good with textiles. He makes u a very large and very soft blanket

To be continued. Also feel free to add to this!!

[gumnut-logic]

Parents

Title: Parents

Author: Gumnut

12 Jan 2020

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: Gotta love them anyway.

Word count: 4938

Spoilers & warnings: Episode tag for 3.20. Spoilers for Season Three, particularly 3.20.

Timeline: Directly after 3.20

Author’s note: This one is a weird one. It mostly wrote itself and what came out was odd.

I had to do some serious math on the brothers’ ages. Please see the notes at the end of the fic for details.

Many thanks to @scribbles97 for the read through and cheering and @thunderstorm-bay for the wonderful support ::hugs you::

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

 “I can’t believe he did that!”

John looked up as his littlest brother stormed into the lab. Alan was still in his uniform and obviously fuming.

“Did what?” Apparently, his calculations would have to wait. He straightened in his seat and turned to face his brother.

“You didn’t see it?”

“See what?” Sometimes it took time to get to the point.

“Virgil cleaning my face in front of thousands of people. With his own spit.”

“Oh, that.” John fought the urge to roll his eyes. “That’s just Virgil, you know that.” He turned back to his workstation. He really needed to get these calculations done and sent to Brains. “Oh, and it is more like millions rather than thousands. An enthusiastic Tracy follower clipped the shot and posted it to social media. It’s got raving reviews.” He pulled up the post and flung the hologram in his brother’s direction before focussing once again on that argumentative variable.

“What?!”

John vaguely registered Alan glaring at the hologram and its attached comments.

“Cute? Adorable? Baaaaby Tracy? What the hell?!”

John had to smirk. “Yeah, well, your fans do love you.”

“My fans? What fans?”

That brought John to a halt. He looked up at his brother. “Your fans. The Spacey Tracy Tribute Troop.”

“What?!”

John arched an eyebrow at the shock on his brother’s face. “You can’t possibly tell me you didn’t know.”

But Alan’s stunned expression blatantly said he didn’t. John rolled his eyes. “Honestly, Alan. You have a whole array of fans who love you. And that moment with Virgil is at the top of the charts.”

“But it is so stupid!”

“Why?”

“Because only mothers do that to their toddlers!” Alan’s face was a little red.

“Well, perhaps you will consider that next time you stuff a hot dog in your face before a big presentation. That glob of mustard was visible from space.”

“He could have just told me.”

Patience. “This is Virgil we are talking about. How long have you known him?”

Alan didn’t answer that, because it was obvious. Virgil and of course Scott would always be defacto parents to the rest of the brothers. Hell, John had been twelve when they lost their mother, but he still valued having two older brothers during that time. He had always valued having Scott and Virgil to turn to for support.

His little brother deflated and threw himself into a chair in picture of utter dejection. “It sucks.”

“Really?” John stared at Alan. “Look at the shot and you tell me exactly what you see.”

Stubborn blue eyes looked up and narrowed on the hologram as it replayed over and over again. “I look stupid.”

John sighed. “Read the comments. None of them say you look stupid.” He threw up a few of the better ones. “If anything they say you look loved.”

Alan stared at him.

-o-o-o-

Alan Tracy didn’t remember his mother. She died when he was still a baby. He had stories and photos, but all his life it had just been his older brothers. They were the ones who saw him off at school, they helped him with his homework, they were the ones he went to for help and advice. He still remembered the night he discovered who Santa Claus actually was.

It was their first Christmas on the Island and nine year old Alan had been worried the big red guy would have trouble finding him out in the middle of the Pacific. So, despite the reassurances from both Scott and Virgil, he had set his alarm to wake himself up in the middle of the night.

Two am and he stumbled down the interior stairs of the new building. He could still remember the smell of new paint and wood stain and the slickness of the polished floor under his socks.

At first he had thought the voice was that of his father, but he knew his Dad was in New York for a special meeting. Scott had been rather loud in his argument against the his absence, but their father had left anyway.

Scott had been far from happy and Alan had given him a wide berth for most of Christmas Eve. Virgil had gathered them all for an evening movie, but even that had not fully dulled Scott’s expression. Not that his brother said anything. He just emanated unhappiness from the corner of the new lounge.

As he neared the main living room, he realised it was Virgil talking.

“Dad wouldn’t have gone if it wasn’t important.”

“What possibly could be more important than our family?” Scott’s voice had anger in it, but it wasn’t the angry of him yelling, it was more resigned and defeated.

“He’s doing this for Mom.” Virgil sounded like he was trying to convince himself. Paper rustled. “Hand me the ribbon.”

“Grandma is upset.”

“I know.”

“It isn’t right. This is our first Christmas here. He should be here.”

“Well, he isn’t, so we’ll make the best of it.”

“It isn’t fair to Alan.”

“He’s got us.”

“We’re not his parents.”

“May as well be.”

“Virgil.”

“You said it yourself. Dad’s not here. Mom’s gone. He’s got us. He’s got Grandma. Could be worse.” Another rustle and Alan moved closer to the edge and peered around the corner.

Virgil and Scott were surrounded by wrapping paper in the middle of the circular lounge. Several shapes sat wrapped to one side. On the other there was a pile of shopping bags. A rocket kit almost as tall as him sat in amongst them.

It was the rocket he had asked Santa for Christmas.

His brothers were wrapping presents. Virgil stood up and grabbed an armful of gifts and hauled them out of the sunken lounge and piled them up under the tree just beyond the piano.

What?

“What are you guys doing?” It burst out before he could think.

His brothers looked up, stunned expressions on their faces. “Alan?!”

“Virgil?” He eyed his eldest brother. “Scott?”

Virgil recovered first, Scott was still staring at Alan in shock.

“Hey, Allie, what are you doing up? Bad dream?” His brother put down the presents in his hands and walking around the lounge, headed in Alan’s direction.

“What are you doing?”

“Um...” Scott appeared stuck.

Virgil came up to him and put an arm around his shoulders. “We’re wrapping presents.” He squeezed a hug.

“But Santa...?”

Scott looked down at the wrapping paper in his hands. Virgil drew Alan close and walked him into the sunken lounge. He sat him down and took a seat beside him. “Well, I guess you’re old enough now.”

“Virgil.”

“Scott, he’s old enough.”

Alan frowned as his oldest brother’s shoulders slumped and his whole body sagged. He dropped the wrapping paper in his hands and sat down in defeat, running his hands through his hair. To be honest, that freaked Alan out more than anything. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong, Allie. Scott’s just had a bad day and he’s tired.”

“Then why isn’t he in bed? Why are you wrapping Christmas presents?” He felt he knew the answer, but it couldn’t be right, could it?

“We’re on Santa duty.” Virgil’s brown eyes were wide and honest and kind of caring.

“Santa duty? But where is Santa?”

Sad blue eyes looked up at him. “There is no Santa, Alan. We wrap the presents and put them under the tree for you.”

Alan stared him. “What?”

“There is a Santa.” Virgil was glaring at his eldest brother. “Just not the Santa you think you know.”

“What?”

“Every year we choose presents and under the guise of Santa, we gift them to those we love. You are now old enough to gift presents to those you love, too. You can be Santa.”

Alan stared at him. “But what about the North Pole and the reindeer and the red suit and...”

“A fairytale.”

“Scott.”

“C’mon, Virg, he’s found us out.”

“He’s found out the truth. That we as a family give each other gifts because we love each other. We don’t need to glam it up anymore.”

“You lied to me?”

Virgil’s eyes widened, but then he sighed. “A little.”

“Why?”

Scott stood up, walked around the centre table and sat on Alan’s other side. “Allie, it’s a coming of age thing.”

“Why?”

Virgil answered. “Because it is sometimes nice to believe there is a little magic in our lives.”

Alan remembered the disappointment he felt at that moment and perhaps the loss of innocence, but of that night, the one thing that still stuck in his mind was the sadness in his brothers’ eyes.

Sure, Virgil was cheerful and positive, and even if Scott had been a little tired and grumpy, he was there and an hour later after wrapping first Gordy’s present, then one for John, he had gone to bed with the new knowledge and a sense of responsibility.

The hugs hadn’t hurt either.

Christmas morning had a little less urgency to run down to the main room and Gordon had to be clapped around the ears by Grandma for teasing him about the whole thing, but it had just become another part of growing up.

That his mother and father had missed.

He didn’t hold it against them. Mom, he never knew, and Dad had to make the sacrifices so other families didn’t have suffer the loss of a parent like they had, but it really just was another example of his two eldest brothers being there for him.

Which really sunk in when he was officially orphaned two years later.

-o-o-o-

Alan continued to stare at John.

“Do you have a problem with being loved?”

“What? Nooo.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I’m eighteen! They treat me like I’m still a kid!”

“You are still a kid.”

“No, I’m not!”

John held back the instinctive rebuttal and bit the inside of his cheek. “Alan, look at it from Scott’s point of view. He has been your guardian for eight years. Technically he is almost old enough to be your father. It has been his responsibility to look after you for even longer than that. That isn’t something that just switches off.”

“I’m not talking about Scott. I’m talking about Virgil. He’s not my guardian, but he treats me like he is.”

John’s lips thinned. “Don’t you ever say something like that to his face. In fact, don’t bother saying it in front of me again either. We’ve all made sacrifices, Alan, but none more than Scott, and Virgil isn’t far behind. You’d be better to recognise that and be grateful for what you have.”

Alan grumbled. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. They’re great, it’s just...so frustrating.”

“Then perhaps it is your turn to show the patience that has been offered you all these years.”

-o-o-o-

In 2055 the world lost the brilliant entrepreneur, billionaire business man and founder of International Rescue, Jeff Tracy.

Eleven year old Alan Tracy lost his Dad.

He also lost a part of his biggest brother. Scott had been forced to sit idle in Thunderbird One while his father tackled the Hood. He hadn’t been able to do anything but watch the Zero-X explode in front of him.

The whole family had been shattered, but no more than its new head. Scott was driven wild, determined that their father was not dead. The world disagreed, the explosion had been too final, too definite, to be anything but fatal. But Scott refused to believe.

There were arguments. They tried to hide them from the youngest brothers, and yes, at sixteen Gordon was almost as under-aged as Alan. But the pair of them could hear Scott’s strident and commanding voice echo through the house, followed by Virgil’s bellowed contradiction.

The day Alan found Grandma crying in the kitchen was the last straw.

“Grandma?” Did his voice have to sound so small?

She startled and turned. Her eyes were red and wet and, oh god, there were tears on her cheeks. “Grandma? What’s wrong?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, dear. Umm...I’m just not feeling right at the moment. I’ll be okay.” She reached out and squeezed his shoulder, but the smile was so forced his heart broke.

“Is it because Scott and Virgil are fighting?”

She shook her head, but didn’t seem to be able to say anything.

“Is it because of Daddy?”

And there were tears running down her face and he found himself wrapped in her arms. To his shock, he found he was almost her height, her head resting easily on his shoulder. “It will be okay, Allie.” But her voice was sobbing.

Eventually, she straightened and her smile became brighter and she sent him on his way. Told him to go clean his room, in fact, but Alan had a better idea.

He found them facing off on either side his father’s desk. Holograms hovered over it and his two biggest brothers were glaring at each other through the flickering images.

“It is what Dad would do.”

“You are not Dad.”

“Somebody has to be.”

“Why?! Why Scott? Why can’t we be ourselves?”

“Because this is what Dad would have wanted us to do.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I do! I knew him better than you!”

Virgil took a step back, eyes widening.

Scott echoed his expression as if realising exactly what he had just said. “I didn’t mean that, Virgil. I’m sorry.”

Plaid clad shoulders straightened and squared. “Yes, you did. But regardless, International Rescue was his dream, not ours.”

“So you want to give it up? Just like that?”

“No! As I have said multiple times, we just need to do it differently! We’re down an operative. Gordon and Alan are not old enough to take their places on the team. Hell, they may not even want to! We can only do so much. Give John some time to find his feet, for goodness sake.”

“Time is something we do not have. People will die.”

“People will die anyway! I just want to make sure no Tracys are on that list!” Virgil was leaning over the desk, his big shoulders wound so tight, his shirt look fit to bust a seam.

Alan had intended to yell at them, maybe scream a little for what they had done to Grandma, but instead their words scared him and suddenly he had tears on his cheeks, just like Grandma.

“Allie?” Virgil caught sight of him and within a split second was kneeling on the hardwood in front of him. “What’s wrong?”

It took him a moment to find his voice but he found himself wrapped in soft plaid flannel anyway, big hands rubbing his back.

“You hurt Grandma.” It came out as a sob.

“What? What’s wrong with Grandma?” Scott was standing beside them, his stance immediately ready to go and fix whatever problem Alan was able to point him at.

Unfortunately he was part of the problem.

He pulled away from Virgil and turned on both of them. “You. Both of you. You made Grandma cry. All you do is yell and fight!”

Both brothers froze and his eleven year old heart beat an extra beat in just a tiny bit of triumph. Perhaps they would listen? “Since Daddy died, you’ve done nothing but fight. I hate it when you fight and so does Grandma. Gordon hates it too. He goes swimming to get away from it. I don’t even know where John is. Please stop.” His throat caught again and he almost strangled on a sob. “Please.”

To his horror he realised Virgil had tears in his eyes and that, of course, only set Alan off more. Once again he found himself wrapped in his big brother’s arms. Virgil’s chest rumbled with words, but Alan didn’t understand what he said.

When he surfaced, Scott was no longer in the room.

“Scott has gone to find Grandma, to make sure she is okay.” Virgil wasn’t letting him go and his big brother had red rimmed eyes. Virgil’s voice was little more than a rumble. “I’m sorry, Allie. We’ll try to do better.”

His brother held him for a long time. Eventually Scott and Grandma found their way into the comms room, John was called out of his hidey-hole and Gordon dragged out of the pool. There was much family talking, hugging, a little more crying, but ultimately they worked it out enough to keep going.

The arguments stopped.

Well, mostly. Virgil still brought them out on very special occasions. Usually when Scott was being a pig-headed moron which fortunately wasn’t very often.

Life went on as best it could.

But then Gordon had the hydrofoil accident.

-o-o-o-

There was silence in the lab after that. Alan wasn’t happy, it was obvious, but he didn’t say anything so John just let him stew a while. Let him take the next step in the conversation.

After all, these calculations weren’t going to calculate themselves.

He just made it into that comfortable zone where he knew exactly what he was doing and had to be done, the numbers flowing, the equations dancing to his tune, and...

“What was Mom like?”

John blinked. That came from left field. Numbers dissolved in his head. “What did you want to know?”

“You know, things.”

“Things? You’ve seen the videos.”

“Of course, I have.” Their father, Scott and the budding artist, Virgil, had made many home videos over the years. They still did, knowing exactly what could be taken away in a flash and without notice. So there was plenty of footage of their mother.

Virgil was the brother most often found delving into those files. John had done his fair share of watching late at night when the Earth so far below just didn’t give him what he needed. Eos knew those files well and often offered them without prompt when John was feeling down.

But Virgil was the one who had the most affinity for their mother. Not to devalue any brother’s grief, but as Virgil had been the closest to her, the most like her in both appearance and interests. Knowing her must have been like learning about himself, his art, his music and answering all those questions their father just couldn’t answer.

John had a few of those himself. He had no doubt Virgil had more.

“She was a lot like Virgil is today. If you’re asking if she would have wiped the mustard off your face, I can tell you right now, she did the exact same thing to me on multiple occasions.” It had been quite gross actually. Fortunately, he had learnt fast and removed the stimulus for such an action at an early age.

His musician brother had been fifteen to John’s twelve and Alan’s one year when they had lost their mother. Alan had no memory of her. Gordon at age six had been just old enough to know what he had lost but not really why. John swore that the close bond between Gordon and Virgil had been forged in those early years as their older brother had responded when Scott couldn’t, tied up with the ball of grief that was their father.

It had been a bad time, but they had struggled through it.

“She used to sing a lot. She and Virgil sang together every Christmas.” His brother hadn’t sung much since, the tradition lost to grief. “She was more open than Dad. Less of a stickler for rules, more willing to be flexible.” Their father was military and he fell back on discipline when at a loss.

Scott thrived under his father’s regime.

Virgil did not.

And his resemblance to his mother didn’t help in the slightest.

“Mom knew how to make Dad smile. She loved a good joke. Heh, I swear Gordon gets that from her. Once she put a jack-in-the-box in Scott’s lunch box. He nearly had a heart attack in the school cafeteria.”

“Why would she do that?” Alan frowned up at him.

“She believed in experience being the greatest teacher. She caught Scott boasting about his parents to another kid who was far less fortunate. About all their successes. She didn’t appreciate it and figured Scotty could come down a peg or two. She succeeded.”

“Wow. Scott did that?”

John snorted. “Scott was a kid as much as any of us once. He’d prefer you believed he sprouted fully formed, but no, he had to grow up and make the same stupid mistakes we did.” Half a smile. “He’s far from perfect, but he tries.”

“He certainly does.” Alan grinned a little fondly, but then his face fell and he sighed. “You’re right. I’m being an ass.”

An arched eyebrow. “I never said you were an ass.”

“No, but I am. You guys have been great. I couldn’t ask for more.”

“Except maybe a little less saliva?”

“Eww, yeah, Virg had garlic bread for lunch.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

John couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing.

Alan stared at him a moment longer before his face cracked too.

“Gotta love him anyway, I guess.”

A snort. “Yeah, we do.”

-o-o-o-

Gordon’s career was a fast one. Straight out of high school and into the Olympics. By the time he was eighteen, he had a gold medal hanging on the wall and had started his career in WASP.

Alan missed his fishy brother, but he was ever so proud of him. There had been talk of him joining International Rescue and activating the final Thunderbird once his training and tenure was done. Alan had seen his brother hovering around the slick little yellow submarine and Scott had been heard to wish for the full complement of Thunderbirds to finally be deployed.

The fact John was flying the ‘bird Alan wanted to fly more than anything was beyond frustrating.

Virgil was helping Alan with his physics homework when the call came through.

A familiar face flickered up on the holoprojector at the end of the kitchen table. “Aunt Val. Hey, how are you?” Virgil offered her a smile as Alan surfaced from under the details of pressure, torque, momentum and velocity that were required to tackle the problem at hand.

“Good morning, Virgil. Is Scott available?”

“Unfortunately, no. He’s out on a rescue. Can I help you?”

“Hey, Aunt Val.”

“Alan.” Her expression was grave and something in Alan’s gut twisted.

“What’s wrong?”

Beside him, Virgil sat up straighter. “What is it?”

The Colonel sighed. “I’m afraid I am the bearer of bad news. Your brother Gordon has been in an accident...”

And their world dissolved there and then.

Alan didn’t remember much of those early days. There had been frantic calls to brothers, John limping around because he had crashed to Earth too quickly for his own health. The fear in Scott’s eyes had been terrible.

The sight of his fish brother decked out in medical equipment.

The not knowing.

The terror.

Virgil holding him in the hospital corridor while Alan cried his eyes out all over his shirt.

Scott sitting at his brother’s bed, head bowed down to the sheets clinging to a limp hand.

John, vacant eyed, staring into nothing the night they thought they were finally going to lose Gordon.

Virgil crying in his grandmother’s arms.

Scott kicking a hole in Gordon’s door and making enough racket to wake up the dead.

Gordon answering the call and faintly scolding Scott to keep it down.

The hope that followed.

That first week, their lives froze. Everything stopped. School, IR, regular meals, everything. The outside world kept moving around them, ignoring their pain, but within their family everything stopped, narrowing only to the hospital and their desperately ill brother.

Once Gordon woke up. It started to move again.

Life slowly came back.

It became full of odd moments. Brothers in places he didn’t expect to find them. Gordon’s illness brought out aspects of Alan’s family he didn’t expect.

He had to say that the most unexpected was the day John walked into Gordon’s hospital room with his red hair spiked in all different directions. It was as if he had stuck his fingers in a power socket and sprayed gel into his hair at the same time.

Gordon had laughed himself silly and considering there had been tears half an hour prior, this was a major thing.

Apparently Gordon had dared him once to do it and John had saved it for a special occasion.

Alan made sure he took pictures for history’s sake.

Another day he found Virgil curled up asleep in the chair beside Gordon, his head on his brother’s pillow. The engineer was still in his uniform and covered in dirt. The hospital staff were going to have a fit.

Alan stopped in the doorway and Scott collided with his back with a “What?”

“Shhh...” And Gordon was holding up a very shaky and uncoordinated hand that clearly said ‘Leave him be.’

“What’s he doing here? He’s supposed to back at Tracy Island.” Scott’s voice was a worried whisper.

“B-bad rescue.” Gordon’s voice was as shaky as his hand. “Think he w-want to ch-check I’m ‘kay. Cos they weren’t.”

“Shit.” It was little more than expelled breath.

His big brother disappeared out into the hallway and a moment later they had the full story from John.

A boat. A teenage boy. And a flood. Virgil did his best, but there were limits.

They sat together until Virgil woke up, groggy and miserable. Scott took him out of the room and Alan was left alone with Gordon.

“I should been there.” His brother’s speech was patchy. The hydrofoil he had be travelling in had been at travelling at a ridiculous speed. When one of its foils collapsed, he was very lucky he wasn’t killed. There was a long, long road ahead.

“Wasn’t your fault, Gordon.”

“No, but should be there for him.”

As if that was the starting point. His brother picked himself off the ground and drove himself back to health. It took a lot of work and no small amount of pain, but a year later Gordon Tracy presented himself to the Commander of International Rescue ready for action.

It took another six months and Gordon’s birthday for his brother to be drunk enough to mention to Alan exactly what had happened that afternoon and what Virgil had said to him.

His fish brother held up his glass, grim and serious. “Our big bros are THE BEST.”

Alan smiled, hoping to god Gordon wouldn’t remember this conversation in the morning. The fact Virgil had come off a hell of a rescue, exhausted and upset, and flown in to see Gordon just to sing him a lullaby was baffling. But it had apparently done something for Gordon and for that Alan would ever be grateful.

-o-o-o-

“So what happens when we find Dad?”

John started, suddenly thrown out of old memories. “Uh, whatever needs to happen?”

“Do you think he will be okay? It has been so long.”

Eight years alone in space. “I don’t know, Alan.”

“How did we not work this out earlier? That capsule was sitting down there all that time. Dad has been waiting so long. He’s missed so much.”

John closed his eyes and touched his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “I don’t have the answers, Alan. I’m sorry.”

“I know.” His little brother swallowed. “It’s just that I can’t remember much about him anymore. He’s going to be a stranger.”

“He’s our father. We’ll make it work.” They had to make it work. The guilt was tearing Scott apart. Eight years. Eight long years just because they had missed one piece of the puzzle. Dad could have been home years ago.

The yelling had started again. Scott angry and hurt, Virgil battling to keep him on the straight and narrow and tackling his own guilt at the same time.

John felt the guilt, too. He had looked at everything after the incident. Everything. He had even combed space. Eos had been looking for their father from the day she joined him despite John’s heart telling him it was a lost cause, that Scott was wishing for the impossible, that it had been too long. She had been scanning for three years they still hadn’t found him. Until now, and from a clue that could have...should have been found so long ago.

“I wonder what he looks like.”

John closed his eyes.

“Johnny? You okay?”

“Don’t call me Johnny.”

He received a snort for that. “Yeah, well, I guess it will be good to save Dad and bring him home.”

A frown. “You guess?”

“Well, yeah, it will be great. But you are right.”

The frown deepened and he looked over at his little brother. “I right? With what? You’ve lost me.”

“Well, Scott and Virg are really the ones who’ve been there for me, you know?” Alan rubbed the back of his head. “So, like, they are the closest I have to parents. They were doing that gig even before Dad went missing.”

John stared.

His little brother didn’t notice. Instead he stood up. “Well, I guess I should get out of this uniform. Getting a little ripe, I think. Anyway, thanks for the chat, bro.”

And with that Alan bounced out of the lab as fast as he had bounced in.

John blinked and turned back to the calculations he had been trying to wrangle this entire time.

But the numbers ignored him.

Dad.

Scott.

Virgil.

If they found their father, things were going to change.

John frowned and rubbed his face.

Damn.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

 Notes on the Tracy brothers’ ages in this fic:

The conclusions I have come to are based on three things – Alan’s estimated age of 16 in season one, the number of years ago they lost Jeff as stated in season three and counting back using each season as a year with season one being set in 2060, and also the need for the eldest three boys to be adult at the time of the loss of Jeff in order to keep IR running and for Scott to take guardianship of the younger two. So my calculations with a few estimates thrown in are that in 2060 Scott is 31, Virgil 30, John 27, Gordon 21 and Alan 16. I know this is older than generally recognised for TAG and the only age I can be vaguely sure about is Alan’s but there is logic behind these calculations. It does merge it slightly better with TOS, so I think I’ve balanced the two.

Jeff was 24 when Scott was born. Lucy was 22.

Lucy died age 38 when Scott was 16, Virgil 15, John 12, Gordon 6, Alan 1. Jeff was 40.

IR started and they moved to the island when Scott was 24, Virgil 23, John 20, Gordon 14 (not an operative), Alan 9.

Jeff (aged 50) was lost two years later when Scott was 26, Virgil 25, John 22, Gordon 16, Alan 11.

In season three this would make Scott 33, Virgil 32, John 29, Gordon 23 and Alan 18 which is where this story is set.

I generally see Kayo as the same age as Gordon, but in this case she may be a little older, perhaps between Gordon and John.

(It should be noted that in most of my other fics I had the boys generally much younger, but with the canon mention in season three of Jeff having gone missing eight years ago, I have since had to recalculate things otherwise the boys would be too young to keep IR going. In Warm Rain, for example, Virgil is 24 and Kayo 20. This is not possible with the new information of Jeff being missing for eight years because Virgil would have only been sixteen when he disappeared).

[ask-ivory]

RWBY Random Rant #3!

The true inspiration behind the headmasters?!

I know this post relatively close to the previous one, but after reading a recap done by @imdcathsmeow I realized something critical.

We were WRONG.

We all know that each and every RWBY character is inspired by a fairy tale character, or characters from classic books. But we've been looking at Ozpin's faction of allies the wrong way completely. I mean, characters like Glynda are in the clear about this, but I'm talking about the headmasters, Qrow and Raven.

Here's what I figured out.

Leonardo Lionheart

This character is a coward. This is obvious and everyone knows, but doesn't really care. But we all know that Leo is based off of the cowardly lion from the Wizard of Oz. The lion wanted to be brave, but couldn't find the courage to do so. But thanks to the Wizard, he became brave.

Leo is the same way. He felt brave with Ozpin's advice, but he was a big coward deep down. And Salem took advantage of this by threatening him with his life and used his position to turn Leo's allies against him.

His cowardly acts brought him to his end.

General James Ironwood

He is based off of the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz, while also barring reference to the Ironwoods from the Norse mythology. The Tin Man wanted a heart, but wasn't given one. He eventually got his heart from the Wizard.

Ironwood is the same way. In front of Mantel, Atlas, the ASOPS, and Teams RWBY and JNPR he acts like they're supposed to be under his control. But around Oscar, and Ozpin, he acts either like a father, or a friend. Because when Ironwood is around Ozpin, it's like Ozpin GIVES Ironwood a heart. A solid friendship between the two allows Ironwood to be more kind to everyone else around him. Ozpin also tries to keep Ironwood under control so he doesn't do anything rash.

Oscar seems to fill the role that Ozpin played to keep Ironwood sane. We see this several times in the Volume. We see Oscar giving Ironwood advise, keeping his hopes from crumbling, and when things get dark, it's OSCAR who tells Ironwood the truth. If no one else noticed, Ironwood didn't blame Oscar for lying, but he DID blame Team RWBY.

The point being, without Oscar there to reassure Ironwood, Ironwood will do anything and everything to keep Salem from winning. No matter what. He would literally sacrifice his heart towards others to do this.

Headmaster Theodore

(Sorry, no image.😁)

Many of us suspect that he is based off of Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz. This is where we are wrong. According to the thumbnail for the next upcoming novel Before the Dawn, a small part mentioned that Theodore was unsure of what to do with the Fall of Beacon. This makes it obvious that Theodore isn't the best person when it comes to strategies. And THAT can only mean one thing.

Theodore is the Scarecrow. Not Qrow.

In the Wizard of Oz, the Scarecrow doesn't have a brain. He is stupid basically saying. But the Wizard gives him something that resembles a brain.

Theodore is the same way as well. Around Ozpin, his mind is clearer and his able to make better decisions with Ozpin's advice. But without him, Theodore does his best, but in the end, the choices he makes aren't really very good. Right now, he is gathering huntsman from all over Vacuo to help defend the academy from the Grimm. He might not have thought this through very well, but right now it seems like the best option.

So,now that that's clear, Who is Qrow based off of?

Well right now, we definitely know that he and Raven collectively are based off of the Ravens of Odin.

Both are gifted with the ability to turn into birds. And a crow and a raven are in the same family of birds.

Raven is also based off of the raven from Poe's poem.

So that means Qrow has a second inspiration, but I have no idea what it is.

He could be based off of Sinbad the Sailer because of his luck semblance, everyone around him dropping dead while Qrow's the last one standing. Then again, I'm not sure.

Now, let's get to the last part of the rant.

Professor Ozpin's Role

Like I said, he holds everything together. Ozpin inspires courage, kindness, mercy, and strategy in the other headmasters. He keeps them all together, and helps them in anyway possible. Since he's had thousands of years of experience, he knows how to deal with a certain scenario. When the Grimm attack, or if groups of rebellious people rise to try and bring the academies down, Ozpin knows what to do.

And Salem Knows this.

THAT is the big reason why she went after Beacon first, why she was glad when she heard that Ozpin was dead, and why she was furious when she found out that he was back so soon. As Watts stated, "He's the only one with a chance of getting through to Ironwood." He wasn't joking. Ozpin is so inspiring, that all of the headmasters (except for Leo) would listen to whatever he had to say. And Salem knows that without Ozpin, the fatal flaws of the other headmasters would activate, and slowly, but surely destroy them, eventually leading to the fall of the academies.

Well that's it for today's rant! If anyone has any ideas on who Qrow is based off of, or has any questions or ideas for future rants, please let me know!☺️

[darthsassacre]

Two Sides, One Coin

He was getting tired, and he could feel it. Darkness creeping along the edges of his vision, his limbs feeling like lead, the naga army seeming so vast and endless.

The Alliance forces were starting to falter, a few mages and priests falling over from mana exhaustion, shaman and druids struggling to stay on their feet.

But distraction was dangerous. Distraction got you killed, a fact Anduin Wrynn knew all too well. He’d nearly had his head taken off early in the battle for Stormwind by an overeager naga soldier. Genn had chased that one off, long enough for Anduin to finish healing the soldier he’d been tending and begin giving orders for a defense.

The defense had crumbled after sixteen hours, reduced to pockets of soldiers giving their all to protect the civilians who were evacuating on the Tram and through the eastern side of the city, which was hopefully free of naga invaders. He certainly hoped so. The thought of having inadvertently sent his people to their deaths was horrifying.

A flash of pure Light showed Turalyon struggling with a dozen naga who converged on him. Anduin made to help, but more naga swarmed him and he was forced to defend himself. Shalamayne cut through the enemy with ease, and the Light kept him healed from small injuries they inflicted when they got past his Barrier.

Anduin downed yet another naga when he felt pain rip through his shoulder and glanced down to find a naga spear through it. The naga in question ripped it out harshly and the young king bit back a strangled cry of pain, falling to one knee, one hand on his sword and the other coming up to heal his shoulder.

Darkness encroached further on the edges of his vision as he focused his energies on healing. It was taking a while, and he knew his mana must be running very low. He called on the Light to refresh and heal him... but found it just outside of his reach.

“What?” he whispered, reaching out again, only for the Light to slip out of his grasp once more.

“Aren’t you adorable? The little priest, abandoned and alone. You’re just so quaint, little king.”

Azshara. The naga Queen slithered closer, grasping his chin and forcing him to look up at her.

“Nothing to say? What a pity. That paladin had plenty to say, before we killed him.”

Was she talking about Turalyon? It was entirely possible.

The queen continued, “It hardly matters. You will die and your city will be ours. We’ll go through that tram and through the forests to hunt your people down.”

“They’re... long... gone,” he forced out. The grip she had on his face made speaking slightly difficult.

She laughed, “Such spirit! I might keep you around. What do you think, I’ll keep you all nice and pretty in my palace and let you watch as your cities burn and your people fall. I might even bring you friends!”

“Never.”

“Pity,” she frowned, “You’d have made such a handsome pet, too. Oh well. Do with him what you will.”

The last part was directed at her soldiers and as they closed in around him, he felt something cold press against his mind.

He’d felt it before, in Pandaria. It always called to him when he was desperate and alone and afraid. But he could not give in to it, so he shoved it away and tried futilely to reach for the Light.

Suddenly, the naga turned away as a massive purple-black portal opened and void elves rushed out, firing arrows and throwing magic around.

Anduin nearly fell over without the naga holding him up, but gentle hands grasped him.

“Anduin. Anduin!”

It was Alleria. The eldest Windrunner sister looked worried, her eyes glowing with Void energy.

“Alleria. I’m okay.”

“Your shoulder is a mess and I have no idea how your muscles haven’t spasmed and dropped that sword yet. Let’s get you out of here.”

“Turalyon, he was-“

“We’ve got him... shit, incoming!”

The ren’dorei leader threw up her hands and projected a Void anomaly, consuming the incoming naga entirely.

Again, the Void’s power whispered at the edges of his mind, and again he shoved it away. Alleria and her people may be able to control the Void, but they were rare.

Or were they? He was a Discipline Priest, he wasn’t unfamiliar with the call of the Void. It was a sweet, honeyed call, but held hidden venom in its promises. Yet, the ren’dorei accepted that honeyed venom and molded it to their will, refusing to let it control them as they controlled it.

Was it possible that... no, he couldn’t go down that path. That path that led him to mind control his friends and allies in Pandaria, a horrible thing to do to anyone.

“Anduin?”

He jerked out of his thoughts and gazed at Alleria. She was in her voidform, but still recognizable.

“Hmm? I’m sorry, it’s just...”

“You can’t heal yourself, can you?” she murmured, “Your mana must be entirey exhausted. But, the battle is mostly over, so we can get you tended to. Come, one of the ren’dorei priests can tend to your wounds.”

“But-“

“Don’t worry, they won’t use the Void if it makes you uncomfortable. I know powerful Light users are wary of it.”

The pain in those words reminded Anduin of the long-running strain between her and Turalyon. The pair barely spoke to each other except in the presence of their son. Arator had told Anduin that his parents didn’t agree on Alleria’s use of the Void, but that Turalyon had accepted Alleria’s decision after so long rejecting it.

“Come on, up with you,” Alleria murmured, pulling him to his feet, hands wrapped around his good arm.

He focused on keeping the encroaching darkness at bay as she led him to one of the ren’dorei priests, a cheerful young man with messy hair and robes.

“Ah, Your Majesty! Don’t worry, we’ll fix you right up! This might take a bit, my Light healing isn’t the fastest-“

“Do whatever... takes less mana...”

The priest looked startled, “Are you sure? Light users don’t play well with Void magic.”

“It’s okay... I’m probably gonna pass out... anyway...”

“Right then. We’ll get you healed properly, then.”

Anduin didn’t remember much after that point until he woke up. It was dark, that much he could tell. There was the occasional glow from an arcane light and from someone healing.

“Glad to see you back in the land of the living.”

He turned his head to see the priest who had healed him. His robes were somehow messier and there were bloodstains along his sleeves.

“What are the casualties?”

“Too many,” the ren’dorei sighed, “Lady Alleria is writing up a report now. Should I let her and the others know you’re awake?”

“Yes, please.”

He sat up, allowing the priest to help him as his shoulder flared in pain and his leg reminded him of its dislike of staying in one position for too long.

“Did you injure your leg as well?”

“No... that’s been around for a while.”

“Oh! Of course, I’m sorry.”

With a whisper, Anduin cast a Renew that dulled the pain somewhat. The priest excused himself and hurried off.

Shortly afterwards, Alleria arrived. She had a weary look on her face, but looked determined.

“How bad is it?” was his first question.

“Well, the good news is that civilian casualties were very low, only a hundred dead and a few hundred injured. If you hadn’t begun the evacuation when you did, it would have been much worse.”

“What of the soldiers?”

Alleria’s look darkened, “At least a thousand dead, many more injured. I don’t have final estimates yet, a number of soldiers were dragged out to sea and drowned, so we’re still waiting for the recovery boats to come back.”

He closed his eyes for a long moment. He heard Alleria sigh and felt her rest a hand on his shoulder.

“Has there been word from the others?”

“Tyrande and Genn held their forces along the evacuation routes, keeping the naga at bay. Casualties aren’t high, but they’re not low either. There’s about three hundred and fifty dead between them and plenty of injured.”

“And the Horde?”

“The sin’dorei have already sent a couple of warships to patrol the waters left open by pulling back Stormwind’s ships. Sylvanas has written, making it clear that she’ll leave us to recuperate. It seems she hates the naga more than the Alliance.”

“That’s... a relief. It’ll be hard to convince Genn and Tyrande of that, though.”

“Turalyon is taking point on that.”

“He survived? I’m glad to hear it.”

She chuckled, “I suppose I am too. He told me something, about the battle.”

“Oh?”

“He was confused about why you didn’t attempt to heal yourself. Why didn’t you?”

“It wasn’t that I didn’t... it was that I couldn’t. The Light... it...”

“It didn’t respond,” she murmured.

“You’ve seen it?”

“How many of my people do you think practiced the Light? The priests and paladins, sure. But also many others. The Sunwell was an integral part of our lives and why we were so attuned to the Light. After it was destroyed, so many of the ren’dorei became desperate and felt abandoned by the Light. They turned to the Void, but it wasn’t always met with success.”

“Why did they turn to the Void? Surely there were other options?”

“There may have been. But when the Light fails, what do you hear instead?”

“The whispers of the Void...”

“It exists where the Light cannot. Void and Light are two sides of the same coin. They exist together in unison, not in contrast.”

“So when the Light is unable to help, the Void can?”

“With the right training, yes.”

Anduin was quiet for a moment before responding, “Thank you. This... it’s a lot to think about.”

“If you want pointers, Turalyon has offered his expertise.”

He didn’t point out that it would likely be her he turned to for advice. She probably already knew. He would not leave his people defenseless, and he would not fail them again. If she and her people could control the Void... couldn’t he?

(this was totally inspired by a post by @druidonity it gave me an idea and I couldn’t help it. Also, spacing is wierd and translated wierdly from my writing app, so I might fix that on my computer later)

[rosheendubh]

S7S8 Draft Rewrite GoT...

—YouTube Game of Thrones film edit/rewrite challenge: —It’s Long, the formatting is terrible, and it’s really more a thread of ideas than a proper outline. But I’m throwing the challenge out there—can some talented YouTube montage editor reel back and mash up GOT Seasons 7 and 8 to match what I’ve drabbled down below?Which is essentially 1 of 1000 other (mostly wonderful) rewrite ideas to help where D&D got a little lost. Honestly, just add some 2 Steps From Hell Soundtrack background, varied clips from the previous S7 and S8 in the order I’ve described below—and ‘voila’!!—our more satisfying conclusion to the last 9 years of fangrrl obsessions... Thanks, I’ll love you forever (and would happily clean this up to be more reader-friendly) if you could do this!!

...or rather, how it should have been written...

There were about a thousand alternative plot lines the GoT authors could have chosen to develop S7 and S8. Basically, they ignored every one of them which would have been better than the drivel they chopped out and spewed Willie-Nillie to hurry up and deliver the blandest tripe to neutralize drama more effectively than a junior-high level theatrical recreation of Shakespeare... —This Post is long, and is also an indulgence of therapy, involving shameless GoTs fangrrling and GeekGrrling... For starters, they was an entirely plausible method to Daenerys’s destruction of King’s Landing, but it would have involved reeling back S7 to only address the Battle for King’s Landing, as the threat of the Night King decended on the North in the background. Keep Jon Snow at Dragon’s Keep/Island Targaryan, mining Dragon Glass, whilst Dany views the motives of the North suspiciously, and rather than battling stupid minor campaigns across Westeros, just concentrates her full force armies+ 3 Dragons on King’sLanding (taking the advice of Olenna earlier than she ought—still as a conqueror, and ruthless, but not psycho...), shattering the Red Keep. Tyrion, somehow, can still wheedle into the city, offering Jamie the chance to get Cersei out despite her refusal to leave...until it’s apparent the RedKeep is about to collapse. Team Cersei (the Mountain, Qyburn) manage to escape through the crypts to that random boat, heading off to CasterlyRock, laying low wisely, beaten and bereft of an army, but not their loyal houses who are leery of the returned Targaryen, trying to regroup allies. Cue—NOW Euron enters with his fleet, to Casterly Rock, offering his undying love to Cersei, and his ships... Meanwhile, collateral damage expected with the RedKeep’s destruction, with some innocent lives, the city overall remains preserved for occupation by Dany’s forces. It’s ambivalence with which the people greet her rather than the gratefulness and joy she anticipated, and she realizes the first truth of governance: a conqueror does not a ruler make...but has little time to ponder this conundrum with Varis and Tyrion as her main advisors, before word is received simultaneously of Cersei and Jamie’s escape—engineered by the only person who could possibly have known out to get them out of the Keep. Her Hand. Cue: Tyrion is arrested. Jon, stranded on Dragon’s Keep, with a skeleton guard only, receives word from the Wall of the Army of the Dead at the Wall. Supposedly, they can’t pass b/c ‘the dead and spells protecting the integrity of the Wall’—but there they stand, just at the boundary of the World of the Living. Jon enacts a daring escape with Team Stark/Snow—killing the men Dany left to hold them in custody, and gets back to his ship, sailing back to Stark holdings in a haste to prepare an unprepared North. Dany, pulled on 2 fronts—between Lannisters and Starks—and holding a city barely in her grip, is forced into a quandary. Jon appeals to her once more (via flying pigeons of course) to come to the aid of the North, in exchange for which he will bend the knee, and promise the submission of the North as well—upping the ante on tension between his loyalty to save the North vs his devotion to serve the North, possibly compromising his own position with his nobles and his family. Bran, by this point, delivered back to Winterfell/Home Stark, learns of Jon’s true heritage, and perhaps informs him then. Or not... Meanwhile, Dany’s dual nature between compassionate queen versus ruthless conqueror asserts itself, and she knows what the right thing, the true thing is to do. You know, like she had shown through the previous 6 seasons of the show. She commits a significant portion of her armies, and her Dragons north, haunted by the carvings Jon had her shown under Dragon Stone (still preserving that scene from S7) the first time in their brief meeting where sparked admiration and attraction between the two—something both were resisting and ignoring at that time. Since D&D evidently left her enough of an army of horsemen and Unsullied in the actual show after the battle of WinterFell, to occupy the cinders of KingsLanding, I’m guessing in my rewrite, Dany has enough of an army to leave behind and maintain her control of King’s Landing, whilst driving her forces North... Concurrently, we have Team Lannister, courtesy of EuronGreyJoy Water Ubers, sailing to Bravos, aquiring  that massive loan from the IronBank, and that absolutely useless GoldenCompany. In this rewrite, they’re more effective, AND BS on elephants. If Hannibal could herd them through the Alps, over the seas from Africa, Drogon’s Balls that they couldn’t also show up in Westeros...Cersei, my villainess supreme vixen, you get your elephants in my version! Scene—Rejuvenated Lannister mercenary army heading back to KingsLanding...S7 concludes... —S8: the battle of the Wall hangs by a thread, but somehow, sans a Dragon this time, the NightKing manages to kill one of the Watchers on the Wall, and wight-over Castle Black, and every other fort along the Wall, with only a few stragglers escaping down to WinterFell, barely ahead of the Zombie Apocolypse. Of course, Thormund is with them—my ginger lover of Brienne the Magnificent. —Jon rallies what meager mortal defenses he might, all collected at WinterFell, fortified as fortified might be thanks to Sansa’s adept hand at administration. We’re still plagued by LittleFinger in this canon, and at some point, Arya arrives back as well, having heard of the victory of the Dragon Queen at KingsLanding, and the advance of Dany’s forces North. Enter: Brothers W/o Banners, with RedPriestess, knowing their destiny is finally upon them. WinterFell is razed, but Dany’s forces arrive at the last minute—we relive that scene where she comes like a flying avenger, rescuing Jon and a small group of determined fighters from imminent death. Or, maybe his comrades die, or scatter in the confusion. Heroic Rhagel, lowers his head and offers his wing to Jon in an oddly sequestered moment, cut off from the dying and destruction abounding. It doesn’t take Jon much prompting from Dany, amid battle chaos, to tell him what to do. And Jon—grown into a less doormat version of himself than what D&D seem to have conceived (ie, awakening his alpha male, to match Dany’s alpha female, rather than the psycho femme-fatal into which mutated her)—mounts Rhagel just at the moment a White Walker is about to skewer Jon. DireWolf style, awesome Ghost makes DireWolf kibble if WhiteWalker, but not before WhiteWalker stabs Ghost fatally. Jon’s anguish is tangible on his perpetually constipated facade, but the symbolism is clear. Kill the Wolf; awaken the Targaryan Dragon... —Night King faces Dany. Drogon roasts Night King unsuccessfully. Night King targets Viserys and launches Ice Javelin at the moment Drogon is trying to roast Night King. *WeepyTearsSerial HeartAttacks* as dying dragon crashes out the sky to ground... All battle pauses for a horrified moment, even the dead. And the Night King, to the shock of the Northern forces, and Dany’s host, even past a Dsny paralyzed for a fateful moment by the frigid gaze of the Night King upon her, resurrects Vicerys. Thus, we avoid the awkward *where in the world did all those chains come from to haul dead dragon out of water at the end of S7*. Dany, reeling from the sudden loss of Vicerys, and rendered lost momentarily, processing the fact her dragons do have vulnerabilities, and seeing the horror around her, the inevitable defeat, draws courage from Jon in that moment, whatever words he speaks, maybe in reprimand for her momentary weakness/no time to grieve/living need us to provide retreat...and off they go, defending the remaining survivors of WinterFell, sacrificing the North, in order to fight another day. The remaining forces of Dany, and Jon, the Starks having escaped, and the rag-tag few of others, including Brienne, the Stark Sisters (Bran?? Ugh, fine...but we’re bringing Meera, thank you very much...), the Hound, Thormund/some Wildings-Black Watch, etc... They arrive at whatever sea-port is closer, Yara’s fleet awaiting their arrival, disheartened and horrified by the remnant few survivors...and 1 less dragon. —Now, of course the Dead are forcing them to the shore’s very edge, but they manage overall, to make-off safe. Back to King’s Landing or Dragon Stone/Drsgons Keep (can’t keep up with the fortress names...)?? Who knows...DragonStone would actually make more sense, allowing for regroup/recoop time, but not time they can really afford to lose. but it does allow for sending communication to KingsLanding, and for Jon to expresshis reservations about Dany’s wish to incinerate the city, CUE: speech about “just becoming one more shit-thing ‘the people’ have always known...”S7. —Somehow, maybe via Jorah and Samuel Tarly re-entering the tale at this juncture, having been to KingsLanding, and discovering it’s under siege by Team Lannister, w/their varied mercenary and allied houses, cutting Dany’s forces off inside, w/Cersei and Co outside, finally breaching the Walls through subterfuge, and retaking the City in a vicious street-to-street encounter between Dany’s occupying garrison, and Cersei’s army, with Euron’s navy blockading the harbor...whatever is Tyrion to do, whilst Messandi, who had been left to administer in Dany’s authority, is taken hostage by Team Cersei...but spared the Mountain. Whatever is Tyrion to do??  Tries to find a cord of sympathy and doubt in Jamie, as Tyrion warns their victory is temporary. Cross the Dragon Queen once, and she may still have an element of mercy. Cross her twice, and ‘show no mercy’ becomes the law... Of course, spliced amid the battles are the quiet moments of character interaction, and dialogue—especially for the interval on the ship. A desperate gambit has been made to Cersei, warning of the Army of the Dead, approaching King’sLanding...by Pigeon Courier again, I suppose?? —At DragonStone-recuperating—Touching and tender character crossings ensue—Jorah with Dany. The Hound with Arya and Sansa. The Hound, finding that unexpected something with this new, tough-as-nails-Sansa (pu’leeze—had they not hinted at this in the books, I wouldn’t go here, but more than Dany and Jon, I was always rooting for a feasible blossoming, hestant, bittersweet romance between these two... but one that endures as the human side of love, promising hope the future, as opposed to Jon and Dany’s epic, Star-crossed doom...). —And, revelations—Dany. Jon. Targaryen. Stark. Dany’s purpose for conquering Westeros seems insignificant, trivial now, compared to the existential threat of the Night King. Consequently, she’s lost and confused, in what her destiny had been, or she thought it had been, and what her new purpose appears to manifest as/seems to imply. There’s still the stage of the Iron Throne; there’s still Cersei, and the Lannister threat, but it’s larger now, than a mere struggle to “take back what is mine”. And Jon, there’s Jon. To whom Rhagel bowed, and allowed Jon to ride. And she knows, even without Bran’s stoner-revelation, what this means. But Bran’s words at least shine clarity over the conflict of her emotions with Jon, and given him a name. Aegon. The realization has left Jon as unmoored as she. —Jon swears his siblings/now cousins to silence despite Sansa’s protest, “I ask as your brother/kinsman, but I command it as your king. You’ll say nothing of this to anyone—vow upon the Wolf of the North/Jon’s Sword—until I’ve spoken to Daenerys Targaryen alone. Nothing,” he repeats, emphasis. —Arya, wary but loving Jon as always, bows her loyalty. Bran remains stoic, and Sansa erupts in vehemence in their duty to the North. Jon, temper breaking in his grief and confusion, rallies/counters in a heated voice, “What North, Sansa? What North? You saw what the Night King did, can do. There’s nothing left of the North, except for those of we who’ve survived.” —Sansa, “who are now at her mercy. How convenient for her grab at power. It ought to be you, Jon. Aegon. You are the—“ His gaze grows cold, silencing her, though her eyes still challenge him. “Don’t say it,” dangerous and low. For love of him, not fear, does Sansa hold her tongue. —Jon asks Bran if he can see the future, lend some direction, but Bran, in that hollow voice, helplessly admits, “It’s only darkness across the kingdoms. The skies of ice and land of snow and night. He marches on KingsLanding. You need to tell her, he’s raised Vicerys. Balefire devours the land from the north to Vales of Europe, on the edge of Passes of ___. Even water will no longer stop him.” — Later, alone in her meeting room, Jon and Danny speak. He tells her the truth, the veracity confirmed by Sam’s own discovery in the Chronicles kept by the WhiteTower. And Danyboiints our the obvious, as he’s the last male heir of House Targaryen, and heir to the Iron Throne. -Jon rejects the words. “I don’t care. I don’t want it. I made a vow to you, a promise as the King of the North, and it is as that King I still speak. You came to us, in our hour of need, when you might have done otherwise. You came, and fought, your men died at our sides. For the North.” -Dany, bitterly interjects, “For what little good it did.” Jon, gratitude and tenderness at once, “There would be none of us left here if you hadn’t. I am sworn to you, and so is the North. As Jon or as...as Aegon,” he stumbles. “As a Stark, and a Targaryen. You’re not the last of your house, Dany.” —(Borrowing from the scene after the feast at Winterfell, where they’re in Jon’s chambers, conversing, about to get it on, *true chemistry there and too bad they didn’t capitalize on that, nor let the characters/actors express that more going from S7*—until she becomes MeanGirl drama, and he gets DoorMat Mopey...which does not happen here in my canon—so out of character for both by this point)... -Dany, staring into the flames, searching, asks seeking, “What do we do now?” “It doesn’t matter anymore. Ice and fire, is what we are, Dany.” His presence is a warmth, solid and strong, as he comes behind her, his hands upon her shoulders, gentle and commanding/impelling, turning her toward him, tipping her chin up so she meets his eyes, she trembles in their strength as she holds herself proud, stiff in her pride, fearful and hoping at once, knowing and not wanting to know how much he wants of her-spirit and Fire, courage and compassion, the sacrifice and losses litters upon their paths, in a journey they’ve traversed from opposite sides of these tortured lands, to build something of hope, from the wreckage others have tried to make of their lives and visions, adversaries unknowingly making them stronger, but that strength, every victory, every triumph come at great cost to ideal and faith. Until, at this crossroads where each find themselves, there’s one certainty as clear as dawn upon a crystal sky, that what they’ve found in each other is home. Refuge and sanctuary, fated and as inevitable as breath to the living, and water to the thirsty. And despite hopeless causes, for Westeros or against the Night King, who closes further south at a dread pace, collecting minions as he festers thorough the territories to KingsLanding, his wight Dragon a thing of terror and near invulnerable destruction, despite family secrets and secret shame—they no longer resist the fate of Ice and Fire. *BombChickaBombBomb* — The same night, Sansa in her hurt at her brother’s...cousin’s...stance, so foreign he seems with this new persona, the half brother, the bastard brother she’s always known, her savior at a time when they didn’t know if any of their family still lived, the victor of WinterFell, the King of the North, Jon Snow—Aegon...a Targaryen. Hardly seemed possible, but there it was, by Bran and in writing. She wanted to weep and rage, claw out his eyes, and beg him in tears, that they would still love him, always love him, and not trust this Dragon Queen. Who, to be fair, she’s exchanged less than two lines of formal greeting since they’d arrived as exiles from the ravaged north, here in the mother isles of the Targaryens. So what if it was Lyanna rather than Ned. He was still a Stark. She wanders aimless, and annoyed, avoiding Baillesh b/c she hasn’t the capacity for quicknrejoinders and subtle ploys to elude his ever stagnant coveting of her body, and her status—the Lady of WinterFell. A WinterFell that’s no more, decimated by an army of wights and corpses brought to motion. Through varied corridors, the rooms lent to the women, the main hall and even the bloody kitchens, out along the palisade, the quest for solitude seems, like everything else that dreary day, to thumb Sansa like a demon shadow spiting the one thing she truly wants right now. To be alone. Finally, she wanders into a thankfully ruined, deserted anteroom that must have been an old armory once, shuttered and closed off by poorly fitted wooden slabs rotting off their nails. She ducks under the barrier of a half hinged door that groans in age and rust, coughing at the dust motes stirred by her skirts. On a pile of shambled furnishings she collapse finally, leaning back to close her eyes, rest against the stones behind her, in the darkness—a peak of setting sun slanting between tattered curtains, the ocean breeze seeepingvaway mold and must, painting shadows across the neglected room. At last, precious, precious silence. “You too, eh, little bird?” Sansa startles upright, eyes casting about fretful, jar to her nerves turning immediately to anger. She bites out in rapid annoyance how impossible it is to find a coffin’s width of space to be alone, asking in the same breath what the Hound is doing in a dank chamber, away from his new found brethren. “I came here to sleep. The Dothraki dontvlike to be where they can see no sky, and those castrates from Essos believe these lower corridors are haunted. Ghosts or rats, anything out of the dark will still be quieter than the shits above who want to drink and mourn all night for their woes at the eve of our doom.” The wryness in her voice seems a trait that’s emerged more fully in the years she’s matured into her true power, trusting her own instincts, and realizing she too, has a penchant for authority and presence. The Lady of Winterfell. “Seeking the impossible.” He lights a lamp, the kind men carry on encampments and the March. “What’s that? A cock and some sweet words in the night?” She would have blushed and choked at such coarse words long ago. But she’s known much worse since the days when she was his little bird. The look she shoots him is ironic, as is her tone. “Silence. It seems at premium right now.” The Hound laughs, “The last thing most men want on the vantage of their deaths. There’s an eternity of silence, after, little bird. It’s why there’s always so much drinking, song, and whoring before battles.” Sansa, “Shouldnt they save that till after the battle is won?” His face darkens. “We won’t win this one, little bird. Even with this Dragon Queen. Even with your brother.” The word, brother, makes her wince. He sees that, peering at her curiously. He passes her the flagon he’d been nursing. “Ah, that’s it, eh? He’s fallen under her spell, and you don’t trust that.” She sips, readying herself for some sort of home brew, that burning liquor said to peel the insides of men with one swig, and shit fire the next day. One swallow and it’s a sweet pungency of grapes and sun, autumn spice on the next. “____wine? This was from our cellars.” Her brow raised, his cheeky look, an almost grin ghosts over his face. “It seemed a shame to sacrifice all of it. Berick salvaged what he could, getting it into one of the wagons in our retreat. Drink up, little bird. It the swansong of your home.” He had that penchant for barbs that can wound and comfort both. She remembers that, but thecway he delivers them now is gentler, spoken in the tone of melancholy. A man who’s known grief, and survived. Who’s dealt death, and now admits his struggles with his own ghosts. That part is new. Something happened to him in the years they’ve been apart. Sansa not sure how to reconcile this as weakeness or a strength for him. “Wine was never our chosen beverage. Ale and beer were marks of Northmen. And women.” He takes the flagon back. “Like your brother, no doubt, little bird. A man of the North. And all those tough as steel fuckers who will follow him to the very edge of the world and beyond.” “My brother is not my brother,” the words spilling past her conflicted mind before she can stop them. “He’s...”, Anger curls her fingers, pinching her spine straight, her eyes furious upon him. Which makes Sander suddenly throw his head back, true deep laughter surging into the darkness, until he’s holding his gut, trying to catch his breath. Her indignation riles him more. “Why is that so funny to you?” “Ah, little bird,” he quiets into a solemnity she almost finds harder to bear than his unpredicated amusement. “Of course he’s not a Stark. He’s a Targaryen.” Her gasp, the struggle to regain her poise before she completely betrays her oath to Jon...Aegon. Jon. He’ll always be Jon, prompts Sandor to handing her the flask again. Something, a sip, the motion to salavage her shattered nerves. “How-“ she coughs on the rich vintage. “How did you know?” “He rode a dragon, Sansa,” he says, laconic as always. “I usually punched or skewered most of my tutors, but even I listened to the old tales sometimes, as a boy. Fire. Fire will never harm him.” His eyes clouded by the memory of his own sadistic brother, his large hand moving up, caught and curled back against his lap, the puckered scars ravage his scalp, half his brow. Out of reconciliation, she returns the flask so he can escape from his own past in that easing warmth of wine. “He’s still a Stark,” she says definable. Possessively. “He was Lyanna’s son, by Rhaeger. It was a love match. They were married in secret to keep him safe from the Baratheons.” His short laugh holds only bitterness. “And everything that’s come from that day to this, every life lost, every mother left weeping, houses ruined, and villages burned, has been based on a lie. Because some fat cunt of a lord couldn’t understand how a Stark girl would find him repulsive compared to the perfection of a silver haired Targaryen. Even when they’re mad as rabid dogs.” She can appreciate his glum, but feels compelled to amend his sour appraisal, perhaps out of mercy for her brother, who she knows was struggling with this revelation in his own confusion. She clears her throat, signaling with a glance at his flask to hand the wine back to her. “They say Robert was actually handsome back then. And Rhaeger wasn’t mad.” “Yet. He didnt have a chance to be. But he was impulsive, and self-serving. He left his lawful wife the moment your aunt crossed his sight, and never considered once, the consequences his act would bring. Only cared to serve the golden dragon between loins, and thought your aunt was the answer to his destiny—Elia, Dorne, and the Kingdom be damned. What is it, about you Stark women, little bird? Makes men think with their cocks, and dream impossible feats.” His eyes shine with wine glaze and ruefulness, and but his words remain unslurred. She recalls the tankards he could drown, and still be sitting upright with a steady strike of his sword, where other men had long before sleptvin the puddles of their own vomit. Her own mind buzzed with just the edge of dizziness and daring, enough to loosen her tongue in the same way it’s made him nostalgic. She has a suspicion when he’s not angered in his wine haze, he euther hets mopey or morose, neither mood does she seek right now in her own tormented heart, shadowed byvwhat the coming days hold. “I’m not your little bird, anymore, Sandor Clegan.” The sadness in his voice almost takes her from this edge of ire to grief. “I know that, lit-Sansa,” hecsays softly. Her name though, how he shapes it. She’s only heard him speak like this once before. That night. That night she should have trusted him, and left KingsLanding. “I knew that when you told me you knew no more songs, and the little bird lost her voice. It took all your courage to look me in the face when you said that. Now...now you don’t even flinch to meet my eyes. Have I grown so less threatening?” Sansa aches for something lost, something of this feeling, a final sorrow or a hope that died with Jon’s true heritage. “My father was a killer. My brothers are killers. The world was made by killers.” His eyes hold hers steady, firm before her judgement, something cold and brittle and hurtful finally surfacing in all the years she’s kept it down. Never soothed, even with Ramsay’s death, never gloried nor indulged b/c she refused to become like the beasts who had made her journey to womanhood a living hell. But she knows what’s been lost, and knows can never be recovered of innocence. Delusions, she knows now, fantasies that her father and brothers doated upon her, thinking they could protect her, did her a favor by sheltering her from the realities of men and the world. None of them, not even her mother, tried to teach her how to be strong. That, she learned on her own. And the price wasn’t her violated body or the trauma of Ramsay’s perversions. Memories that still creep into her nightmares. The cost was the betrayal of her father, her brothers, and her family, for thinking women needed to be sheltered and protected, and never allowed to mature into their independence—to fail or thrive by their own intellect or grace. That seed of resentment fills her words now, and flashes in her eyes, hardening everything about her to steel and ice, b/c Sandor too, felt the same way once. His uncommon chivalry toward her, she sees now, was his own fumbling attempt to shelter her. Little Sansa. Little Bird. “I learned where true monsters lurked, hidden behind the faces of men. And I survived them. But you would have have done me a favor, Sandor, to have finished what those assailants started that day you saved me from the rioters who meant to kill Geoffrey. It would have spared me my continued delusions. Stupid little Sansa, and her stupid little fantasies. You would have shown me much more efficiently what I learned anyway, what the real world was truly rife in, of monsters and traitors and liars.” The words twist out of him in a whisper. “Alas, the she wolf has arrived.” That hasn’t changed, at least, his mockery of her, though it’s more a gentle ribbing. He short rejoinder dies, when he adds, “We aren’t all that way, Sansa. Not all men, even the killers amongst us.” She dares for his touch, reaching toward him, a test worthy of Baillesh, querying in how he might react. Almost laughs, but swallows it down when she sees the terror and surprise pale his face, the half not ruined by fire, she notices now, truly studying him, handsome in its bold lines, the shape of contemplation in deepest eyes and the long jaw. A poet’s mouth, her light touch traces the gouged flesh of old burns. “I know that,” she says. “But I too, have learned to kill. I still don’t think it’s killers who make the world though.” He hand wanders back to her lap. “I would never have hurt you. I protected your sister, as well as I knew how, anyway. I would protect you.” She’s sighs, feeling a smile pass, glinting eyes upon him, her turn to mock, cruel smirk. “I don’t need a champion. I already have one,” the pointed remark stinging his ego enough to break his disconcerting sadness, as he shifts with the uncomfortable reminder of his defeat at the hands of Brienne of Tarth. “And Arya is practically an army to herself.” A condsering look passed between them, of understanding and admiration of her younger sister, whose skills were still something of a puzzlement. Part of her sister’s book of sorrows and secrets, she sees now, and knows Arya may never share those empty years with her. And Sansa has made her peace with that. As she has with Bran and the uneasy aura of power and old magic that hangs about him, despite the illusion of flawless youth molding his fine features. “Still, I would never have harmed you, Sansa. And whatever you think, of men who mistook ignorance to preserve innocence, I never shared that belief. You were the only thing in that rotten court that was sweet and good, pure. And brave. Brace enough to stand up and defend your belief in the world’s goodness, and the honor of men, even in the face of your fear. You don’t know how scared Ivwas of that, how you saw right through me, straight to that cowering, quivering little pissant deep inside. You were gentle tough, even with him. I wanted...that. Wanted you.” “Stop,” she pleads roughly. “I know. I know all of that.” How can one feel so alone and share such proximity with another human, intimacy it’s own bridge and wall. “I dreamt of you, after that night the Blackwater was almost lost. Dreamt you kissed me, and wrapped me your cloak before you took me with you. And I felt so safe. So loved. That dream was where I would go, in the worst moments with...Ramsay. I almost,” she says with a wistful smile, “convinced myself it was real at some point.” “I make him suffer a thousand fold—“ “Shh,” her finger over his lips, Her solemn look quiets him. “His death was mine alone to render, and he died as deserved. By the jaws of the creatures who he thought loved him most.” The grim satisfaction she still feels, hearing his screams as they gradually turned to groans wet with with a gargling of blood, and the snorts and snarls of feeding dogs who feast before their victim is truly dead, terrifies her, the euphoria of power and absolution. Sansa has enough inner counsel to realize the temptation of that road, how easy to become the thing one wishes to destroy. Her burning hatred died with him, but nothing, the nothingness has never rebounded, never found anything to restore whatcwas lost in the months of her torture. He’s patient and tender with this awareness, somehow knowing as he had with her brother. “It’s still too soon, isn’t it. After Bolton’s stench, for you to want another man.” A statement, so blunt it might have been callous, but so very Hound-like. How comfortable, relieving it is, to keep nothing hidden, and not have to explain herself. How perturbing that she can discuss something so vile and recent to her past, and shroud it in a casual shrug, the twitch of revulsion the only betrayal of how close her disgust still hovers. “That. And evading Baillesh’s advances while preserving diplomacy. He would make a nanny goat in heat go cold.” “That little weasel,” he growled. “His own shadow doesn’t trust him.” She glances at him sidelong. “B/c his own shadow knows better,” she says dryly. “Fortunately, he’s still too terrified from WinterFell to remember how to be subtle/crafty and scheming. You can’t buy off a Wight, and you can’t blackmail the Night King. He actually tried to persuade me to spend the night with him by claiming these could be our last ones before we die.” Perhaps it was the lamplight, but Sandor looked like he’d eaten bad oysters, an expression between rage or nausea, like he was fighting down bile stained the muscles of his jaw. “Drink, Clegan. Before you get sick. He claims to love me, and won’t touch me. He’s still too guilty for having been called out selling me off to the Bolton’s. I told him desperation wasn’t becoming in tempting a woman to bed. Besides, I heard him scream when he was about to be overrun by those Zombies. He sounded like a terrified rabbit. Nothing douses passion more than that. I can’t look at him without laughing. I scorn him, and I pity him both. Is that possible?” His eyes brightened, uncanny, lifting her out of her morose. “Pity him, rather. I think the Dornish women found him. The cries coming out of that room...” The suggestion trailing with all manner of fates, but the dread and envy on his face told all. Men spoke warily and yearningly of one night with a Dornish woman. One Dornish woman. A group, all sisters, and a man was left wondering if he’d ever be able to service a woman ever again, let alone piss while standing, or ride a horse. “Good,” she says firmly. “They might even make a man if him, if there’s a man left after they’re done.” A snort under his breath, amusement in his voice. “If there was ever a man to begin with. They like women too. He should serve both roles well, for their tastes.” Silence holds them in the moments following their brief humor/levity, Sansa taking the wine flask, and Sandor reaching for a fresh flagon from his knap-sack. “Another?” She blurts, emptying the remnants of first. “I didn’t think I would go through the first so quickly. I wasn’t expecting company. You’re planning on staying, then—“watching without comment, a little taken aback really, as she frees the flagon from his hands with a giggle, unsteady, and opens the the cork, gulping down the silken drink—“Here, with me, tonight?” She doesnt want to leave, his presence—the bulk of his body, a solid assurance which lent her more calm in these last hours, than she’s had in...years. A settling in her soul that’s been like a restless butterfly flitting with no where to rest, fraught worse since Jon had taken the field against the Boltons, and successively tied the fate of their homeland to the throne Sansa had been trying to free them from. She turns to him slowly, disappointment perhaps, marring the comfort of their camaraderie/familiarity. That he had to take advantage of this blessing he’d begun to uncover with her, only to push a boundary she thought he’d respect, and leave her to reject him gently, b/c it always needed to be done gently. Men were such fragile creatures. For all the tenderness of his eyes upon her, she had thought he understood her reluctance, revulsion in fact, in the act of coupling. She might one day, find a place to let someone touch her thecway she knew people could who desired each other. They way she knew Jon and the Targaryen woman were in these past hours. The thought left her cringing and disturbed. They were both Targaryens. But he was still a Stark. Maybe it was jealousy, a little envy, toward her after all. Jon accused her of that, but said it the Jon always did. Comparing Sansa’s strength and courage and stubbornness, and her beauty, to Daenerys’s own. *She’s your match. Only you can reconcile that, Sansa.* That had stung more than she wanted to admit. It wasn’t jealousy for his affection, at least not in the way of desiring him as a lover. He was her brother, cousin, family. Sansa realized, the very thing Sandor had pointed out in her, that goodness and faith in others’ goodness, she sensed in Jon. He still had that child’s devotion that others would act as honorably as him, even after the wreckage of how he’d been betrayed by his own Watch. He was so like their father. No, his uncle. She wondered if Lyanna had shared that quality. Sandor, off balance, wine coursing in his veins and affecting his motions, rises, arranging his mantle out on the ground. She’s trying to find the right words, shape them coherently through a mind thickened with wine and drear, to tell him she hadn’t meant to lead him on. He grips for his sword, still in its scabbard, a thing of _____steel, as long as the span of his arms, Holt of ivory cast in silver etching, holding it aloft with a crooked grin. She lowers the flask, wiping at the wine dribbling down her chin. “What are you doing?” Her puzzlement breaking the hazeforca moment. He bows, catching himself before falling on his face, burping before he explains his actions. “A gentleman, Lady Stark. S’pposedly I’m a knight. Note the blade between us. My pledge I won’t touch you, nor dishonor you, as much as I wish you’d ask me to.” The relief washing over her, gratitude that brings infuriating tears she blinks back impatiently, makes her knees almost collapse freed of a strain she hadn’t realized till then. A small, choking breath, as she steadies her voice, “I’d thought you...you were going to ask me to sleep with you.” “I have. But not fu—no, with you it wouldn’t be that. Allow me my dignity. I dont need to invite my own rejection, in the way you don’t need to spare the feelings of an ass. The tenderness and sorrow in his eyes leaves her silent, the tears winning out, flowing unimpeded down her cheeks as she tries to keep her breathing calm, thinking she’s about to blubber in a humiliating display of anger and hysteria. “Oh little wolf, hush now. No need for this,” he says gently, wiping at the rivulets. “Too much wine, and too much death in these days of darkness. It makes us fools and philosophers.” “Aren’t they one and the same?” She forces out past a sob, sniffling. His laugh is soft, where he brings her head against his chest. He wears no armor, not even the leather jerkin, and the heat of him, the play of rippled muscle of his chest, where his heart beats, a living surge, and the embrace housing her in a fortress of power and grace. They are exactly as she had dreamt that one haunted night so many years ago. They kneel together, as he slowly, reluctantly frees her. He gave her his mantle, leaving nothing for himself on the cold stone floor. “One day, little wolfling, you’ll conquer this too. One day, you might even learn to want a man, or a woman, again. But trust comes first.” “How do you know that?” She demands, her brief episode/spell making her angry, such silly weakness an indulgence no one has time for. She’s glad he’s the only one who saw it. “How do you have a right to be so gentle, when all those years ago, you tried so hard to be such a brute?” The patience of his humor warms her, and rankles. She’s not so fragile, and he doesn’t need to be so careful. “Because most humans are shits. At least the ones I’ve known. But animals, the gods’ beasts are different. Broken animals, horses, dogs, the like. It’s their trust that needs to be regained, and that’s done through patience. And love,” he adds, voice stalling/stuttering out the word. Shivering b/c of the chill, the despondency in his voice, she gazes hard into the dark ceiling above. On her back, lying on his cloak, his long-sword between them, she feels cast off, alone all over again. “So, you see me like a beaten animal?” she throws thecwords at him, stony gaze above. “Something to be coddled and cozened, until I eat from your hand again, and eventually mount me without being bitten or kicked off?” A whisper of garments, she feels him shift, turning to prop himself on an elbow. She swallows her surprise in a little croak when The shadow of his face draws over hers, a mere finger span abort her mouth. The heat of his breath, sweat, and the wine filling her nostrils, brushing her skin, he’s so close, she reads the clouded storm there—his temptation and his own self-mockery. “Allow a man his fancies, Sansa. I won’t lie and say I’ve not thought of you like that either.” So like her dream, his lips moist and so close. Her pulse leaps, an exhale catching in a shallow gasp, a shaft of longing awakening something delicious deep inside, heat flooding her cheeks. She’s frozen half in terror by this first flavor of desire. Need. Half his face distorted, the other beautiful and bold, the harmony like the halves of his soul, shine from his burning gaze. He never makes a move to close the small gap between them, remaining captured above her like that forca precious breath more, before his groan of frustration and sorrow breaks the spell, and he turns back, collapsing to his side of the blade. “You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever known. And any man who tries to break that deserves to die.” Arya said that too. The wine maybe, or the trials of past years, fortifies what’s becoming more frequent, daring she’s more apt to command. And this heady pleasure lighting over her, tingling her mind and flesh. She wants more of this. “How would you think of me, Sandor? Tell me, what was the most stirring thing you envisioned? Did you think of me when you visited one of Baillesh’s whores? On top, or wrapped around you from beneath, moaning your name? It’s hard to read the kind of urges that fire a man like you.” The words are edged, taunting herself as much as cruelty prods her to toy with him, eyes ground into the darkness above, hands crossed over her belly like a corpse prepared for its byre. He draws a rough sigh, his gruff laughter without humor. “Singing. I dreamt of you singing. All those other ways men want to fuck a woman too, but mostly—“ “Singing.” She finishes for him, the word resounding flat into the quiet. Passion, her first awareness of desire lapses into befuddlement. She turns to seek his profile in the dark, her voice soaked in doubt. “All those years you wanted me *in every way a man wants to fuck a woman* and it’s singing?” Across the short distance between them, his gaze falls into hers, locked and full of longing, piercing her heart, and resurrecting a feeling she had buried in these years of pain. “You told me once, when my little bird had first been wounded, she didn’t know any more songs. I dreamt of her singing ever since. She was the sweetness of spring, and the joy of sunlight to a man chilled by rain.” Those stupid tears again, coming out of nowhere, salt upon her tongue, as she tries to moisten her lips for speech. She rolls onto her stomach, thrusting the scabbard down to their feet. Crawling onto her elbows, she leans above him, peering into a face no longer menacing or scowling, only patience and acceptance offered in a sea of doubt. He doesn’t believe she could return such affection. He doesn’t think he’s deserving of such tender grace. Her lips are upon his, tentative at first. Light likecan infant’s touch, and as his open to meet her questing mouth, growing bolder, claiming each other with kisses leechingvthem of breath, deep and leaving them reeling. Her hands clasp his cheeks, grain of his beard wiry, fingers sweeping the strands of his hair back from the thickened scars over his brow, her lips brushing there too, sacrament of sorrow and blessing. Both of them reaching for air, a disbelieving joy escapes her throat in a little laugh, her cheek pressed to his ear. His hands hover like lost swallows, — Euron’s fleet attacks out of the Dark. The dragons even the odds, and the battle is a much more effective modality than the gibberish splashed across the screen in S7, leaving Yara captured, and Theo a drowned kitten. Instead, the Dornish women hold their own this time, but still fall (Olenna Tyrell, who was left behind at a KingsLanding—exceeding Genius at governance that she was, and staying where she would be most useful to her queen, needless to say, met her same fate as she did in S7. See, I’m not reformatting this for happy endings. Just more cohesive, and sophisticated plot lines...). —Ultimately, Euron’s fleet is BBQ, with both Rhagel and Drogon flambeying the enemy GreyJoys, and no defense against the dragons, even with Qyburn’s largely useless ‘ballista/scorpion’ things. The battle is at night afterall, and morning dawns upon ship hulls blown cinders, and corpses ravaged by fire. —The harbor is open to Dany’s fleet and forces, but the Lannister defenses are ready—right, remember those convenient stocks of Witch Fire/Greek Fire. Now, in rewrite, more sensibly deployed as artillary against an invading fleet. Onion Knight remembers this, and with the loss of a few vessels they pull back out of range. Of course, Night King arrives at the walls of a KingsLanding at that time, and everyone’s worst nightmare ensues, with the decimation of the city by the Dead, in full tilt, requiring use of WitchFire against the Wights instead, and allowing a Now very eagerly accepting group of Team Lannister’s to hasten Dany’s and Jon’s forces ashore, as dragons clash and flash in the skies above—the human toll extradinaory with the loss of innocent life, amid the destruction Zombie Vicerys wrecks upon KingsLanding, while Dany and Jon battle a stand-off with Dragon Destructo Immortalis and his Icy Eyed Spiky Crowned Zombie Dragon Rider, which ultimately culminates at the already blasted out Red Keep Throne Room. Dragons are wounded, dragons out of the picture, the dead crawl over every brick, stone, toppled pillar, and yawning crack in the flagstones, held back only by flames of living fire, unable to reach Dany or Jon (who, as a Targaryan, proves as flame resistant as Dany...), protected in a ring of flame surrounding the Iron Throne. Here, resurrect the Dany who picks up a sword for the first time in her life, ready to die by her man’s side, whilst WhiteWalkers gather.  Jon, of course, faces off with said NightKing, sort of like DarthVader vs Luke Skywalker style, keeping Dany from the fray, butvat some point, down for the count, about to be impaled by Night King, when Dany gets her strike in, while not lethal, serves to distract the Night King, who recovers quickly enough, and sends her sprawling. The moment allows Jon the lethal thrust he needs, sword piercing the Night King in the heart (sorry, Arya—your Assassin’s Creed acrobatics were awesome, well-executed, but poorly utilized in the grand scheme of ‘bore’ that followed...).  *added as alternative b/c I adored what Arya did*: ALTERNATIVELY, ARYA REACHES THE RED KEEP, PERFORMS MYSTICAL ASSASSIN’s CREED ACROBATICS, AND SLAYS NIGHT KING EXACTLY AS SHE DOES IN SHOW, BUT WITH JON BATTLING NIGHT KING AS WELL, AND NIGHT KING STILL REMOVING DRAGON GLASS DAGGER FROM HIS OWN CHEST AND BURYING IT IN JON’S HEART...SO JON STILL DIES* / The Night King removes the Dragon Stone dagger from his chest, simultaneously burying it beneath Jon’s heart as they sink down together, both in death. The Night King dissolves into *sparkles* (lol—Ice grains...), blown away by the wind, while the WhiteWalkers explode as they did into ice shards, and the dead—wights and new recruits alike—fall into dust. Poor Viceryon😢 Arya stricken by dying Jon, and Dany crawls to Jon’s side amid the flames and ash, the scorched throne room, cradling him as she sees him turning, fully understanding the remorse in his eyes, his love, and the plea, unspoken, of what she needs to do. What she doesn’t want to do, yanking the dagger out of Jon’s/Aegon’s chest, watching his blood well up, as he gasps last words, last breath, and she cradles him, weeping as he dies, bleeding upon the Iron Throne. You know, like what she did with Jorah, but more sensibly in this alternate canon. Had they not cast Jon as a messianic figure for the last 7 seasons, and Dany as the Savior, I wouldn’t lean so much this way, BUT...as I said, it’s my view, and a more poetic one than what they contrived in that scene in the actual Ep6... Assuming some soldiers/warriors of Dany and Jon’s forces made it up to the Keep, deployed against the White Walkers till they all dissolved into elemental memory (Jorah lives in this mode; Jon dies...), they gather, staggering, around Dany and Jon, where he lays in her arms, all of them exhausted, broken and bloodied. But they live “heroes just for one day...”😜 —Meanwhile, there were those underground caverns/crypts where the rest of the Witch Fire stores had been stocked, and ready to light beneath King’s Landing. Team Lannister, by this point only consisting of a fleeing Jamie and Cersei, have retreated down to those stores, knowing fire will keep them from the fare of the dead, and absolutely willing to ‘light it up, baby’ beneath the city. At the crucial juncture where they’re about to be over-run by the Dead, Cersei about to drop the torch into the fuel, the dead fall to dust. A few seconds to breath, realizing what must have happened w/o knowing how, but relief makes Jamie embrace his sister, the (incestuous, admittedly) love of his life. She still holds the torch over the pool of liquid, phosphorescent WitchFire though, always quicker than Jamie, knowing exactly who has won this victory ultimately. Something along the lines of, “I refuse to let her own this throne...”, or some such line refusing to surrender to Dany (harkening, nay, recalling Cercei’s vehement tirade of, “I would burn this city to the ground before I would see our...”yadayadaYoda—“house fall”, or something like that). Well, that’s EXACTLY what she means to do, and Jamie experiences some awful moments working through his pretty skull, the last monarch he served who meant to do the same thing. He tries, earnestly, to persuade her it’s not necessary, etc etc. Cersei is not having it, and as she’s about to release the torch into Pyrotechnic mode, he does kill her...but, too late. *BIGBIGBIGBIGBIG BOOM*💥💥💥💥 Green smoke clouds erupt through the city streets, already decimated, but beginning to animate with a few survivors, including the inhabitants, but also soldiers of both forces... -Across the winding streets, up at Red Keep Hotel, Dany registers the sounds of explosions, with the remaining crew of her soldiers. We have 2 routes here, Choose Your Own Adventure/GoTs style: Dany flips at that point, of course familiar with her family heritage and the *Burn Them ALL* king who was her father. Not bent on tyranny, not thinking at all, except that she’s as exhausted and beyond endurance as any of the survivors of Team Dany/Team Jon, and grieving Jon’s death, the cost of tragedy and the price of power, she’s convinced it’s Cersei still hiding out in some hidden refuge of the city. So, the Dragon Queen mounts Drogon, and off she goes, decimating what’s left of King’s Landing—*pan out diorama to Yara’s fleet, where they witness the last chapter of destruction*—And know they’ve won. What they’ve won, who knows, as LittleFinger observes, but...if LittleFinger is still living. At some point, even Drogon tires, and Dany’s rage subsides, landing on the summit of the earlier bombed out heap of the Temple of the 7, or whatever Cersei had mushroom clouded back in S6. Reality hits as she observes the destruction left in her wake, and the battle which has just ensued, draining her momentary manic Hell-bender, and restoring her to herself. And the awareness of the power and pathos with which she’s endowed leaves fills her with dread for the first time, and doubt on her journey to reclaim a throne she had always believed was hers by right. Horrified at her own act, she flies off away from King’s Landing, Rhagel, gathering Jon’s body in his claws (since that’s what dragons do, I guess, with their dead riders??), follows, leaving only an echo of mournful dragon cries... -Cue: FINAL episode in the retelling. Okay, maybe penultimate? Dany, somewhere in FarFarAway, in some deserted landscape, a mountain vale maybe, where men can’t reach, stands pale, mourning, silent tears falling down her cheeks as she lights the funeral bier beneath Jon’s body. She holds the dagger of the Night King in her hands, unsure if she should hurl it away, but decides ultimately to keep it, fastening it to her belt. Her dragons crowd around her, communal puppy-dragon love for their mama. She spends the night watching his bier burn, only smoldering bones left by dawn. And knows, with the morning, she has a city, and land calling her back. —Dany returns, with her Dragons—arriving to the heights of the RedKeep, the relief across the faces of her men reassuring in their trust, even as they eye her with a new fear and wariness. How fragile might be her sanity, after all? Who knows how Tyrion gets there, but he’s the master of survival, and there he is—there to greet her as she climbs off Drogon. Some such line does she manage, still lost to her own grief and emptiness, still reeling from the horror of her potential for destruction. There, standing regal despite her haggard appearance as any of her men, amid the wind-swept ashes of The Red Keeps innards, she says something about, “I came once, claiming I would not be Queen of the Ashes. Now, there are only ashes left to rule. I finished what the Night King began. Now it is done. And still, I will not be Queen of the Ashes.” Yadayada, she’s unworthy to rule, afraid of her excesses of anger that can border on insanity, afraid of the power that feeds her ambitions, and tempts destruction over mercy. The men about her are left in confusion, some speechless, some protesting, and some in agreement. When silence finally falls, Dany mentions Jon’s heritage, which, till then hadn’t been revealed (as it so stupidly was in yet another wasted plot device)—the truth that he was “the true heir to the Iron Throne. It’s not mine,” she speaks the words, hearing them to her own amazement, and knowing they are completely true. “It’s not mine. It was never mine, and now, I don’t want it.” It’s Jorah who provides his gentle wisdom amid the astonishment of the other men, who reminds her “the wheel is shattered. And the world is broken, Khaleesi.” It’s that title that reminds her of her earliest days, theclong journey played out to this moment. Loss, love, sacrifice, and dreams. “We need a leader, this land needs a leader. Your people, now of Westeros, need a leader. And it’s now, more than any other moment in your life, when you can decide what kind of ruler you would become. You are more than the blood running your veins. I’ve always believed, or I would not have suffered for you to this hour.” Moment of pondering, the struggle of doubt and a restoring confidence alive in Dany’s eyes, when she looks to the throne, charred but standing despite all the destruction around them. Jon’s blood, dried now, soaked into the cracks between the splinters comprising the seat. NOW, we can have Drogon fry the thing to a melted mass of ore and bone, at her order. And NOW, we can have her, in the best Danearys tone of command as only she can utter, “Now, we shall begin,” her eyes compelling each of the men to beat weapon to stone, announcing her victory, their allegience, as dawn breaks across the harbor to the fleet in the distance. —Cue: some kind of season passage scene, winter, snows falling, the members of various houses returning to their holdings, most time spent on the Starks, taking in the ravaging left by the Army of the Dead. Burying those who died, followed by Gradual returning of people too, into villages, repopulating deserted farms, ships from East to West, as Dany still holds Esteros too, provisionally, gradually filling dockside storehouses, commerce once more bringing life and goods along with repairs mending the capital, and the lands spanning all directions. And Dany, concluding a council, replete with Sansa as the representative of the North, along with the nobles of the other houses, and kingdoms besides, serving the privy council—or, maybe it’s Bran serving on Dany’s council, he’d be a better advisor anyway,  leaving Sansa to actually rule the North, as she deserves (the ladies having found some balance betwen each other, of respect and mutual admiration; though, they’ll never be friends. Sansa still blames Dany for Jon’s death, knowing the blame is without substance...the Hound serves her, devoted to his Little Bird for the rest of his live-long day’s...knowing she’s no longer a little bird, but a grown woman, sharp and fierce as hawk, and fair in her ruling besides...). The Ladies rule the Iron Islands, as well as Dorn (one of the Sandsnakes survives??); thus, the symbolism of the Ladies healing the land, whilst there are still many of the other houses, in other territories retaining the traditional male authorities of the noble classes. But the world is changing, and there too many gone to be fussy on the appropriateness of a woman or man succeeding to a place of authority, in business, in government, or in profession—the Maesters accepting woman amongst their ranks for the first time... And like the great void of population that followed the Plague of the 1300s, an event that had a far greater prescience in heralding the early modern world, and social/economic transitions that reverberated across Europe and Asia in the following centuries of the Renaissance, we see Westeros establishing fertile seeds of cultural change...just hints, nothing that can be explored too fully b/c...last episode. But it’s poignant, and hopeful, and elegiac all at once. Who knows, maybe a couple of years are suggested inthose scenes, up to Dany rising from the council table, concluding the meeting with her advisors of office. Exiting, a servant finds her out in a courtyard, and hands a child off to her, a blonde haired little boy, round about 2 or 3, with dark, somber eyes, bringing a smile, a soft endearment to Dany’s lips, as she kisses her son.  Call him Aegon; call him Jon. Call him whatever you want...I know, it’s a bow to sentimentality, but honestly, it fits better than pyscho-bitch Dany-turn tyrant Dany-turn *look-another woman dies by Jon Snow’s circumstantial inaction*...(bye, Egrit, it was nice knowin’ ya...). They walk up to the Red Keep; Doh, who am I kidding, they fly over, mounted on Drogon. The palace, and that chamber were never restored, but left as a monument to the Old World, and commemoration of great sacrifice for those who died in the battle for Westeros. The melted core of the Iron Throne stands as witness to future, and memorial to the past. Dany pauses with her son, winter still locked about the land, but signs of spring peeking through, a dazzle of ice and falling snow and sun. Green things unfurling hesitantly from cracks in the pavement of stairs and fallen masonry. And upon the melted heap of that once powerful symbol, a blue frost rose buds from the charred rock...Dany’s hand hovering over it, tending it, and Jenny’s Song crooning in the background with the closing scene... There, I feel better now. THIS is how, or something how, justice might have been served to blot our the memory of sophomoric scripting and elementary storytelling, for a series that held our hearts and minds for 8 seasons going. It’s flawed, I know, and undoubtedly *Archive of Our Own* will be thriving with amateur authors who will prove themselves far more de opted to fleshing our pacing, plots, and subplots for far more satisfying conclusions than what last night treated us to... My GeekGrrl/FsnGrrl is done wrung our now, and must return to her regularly scheduled programming of Late 2nd Century Sarmatisns, Artorius Castus, as well as Post-Roman Britain and a Uthyr and Guinevra who become something of social reformers building the way for the AngloSaxon kingdoms ultimately shaping the fragments of Celtic Britain into the powerful kingdoms of Northumbria (the Star of the North as they called it in its heyday through the 7th into the 8th Century), and later Mercia and Wessex...

[delphinusbae]

The Aftermath (Kenna x Annelyse)

Summary: As the wedding celebrations began, Annelyse starts to wonder what could have been, showing Kenna an unusual side of her.

Author's note: This is my first ever contribution to the fandom and to #ChoicesCreates prompt 21. I was not sure of posting this but I couldn't help myself. I've seen little KennaxAnnelyse material and wanted to share some of my love for this pairing. Thank you @hollyashton and @catsrtheboss for hosting #ChoicesCreates it's truly amazing. I hope you all like it!. (Sorry in advance if I missed any typos or errors. English is not my first language) 

The Aftermath (Kenna x Annelyse) 

 Annelyse walked around in the throne room, watching with a smile just as Val started drinking a whole barrel of Skullcracker Ale encouraged by the cheers of the soldiers. 

 After the wedding ceremony, glee, joy, dancing and drinking were seen everywhere in the castle. 

The Aurelian's eyes drifted to the window, it was the happiest she had been ever since the war started. And it had been a long, long time ago. Annelyse sighed, even if it was all over now, she couldn't help but wonder how things would have turned out if they were to be other way.

'What if Kenna hadn't forgiven me that day at the forest'. She thought to herself.

'What if she hadn't returned from Thorngate' 

‘What if she hadn't defeated Azura' 

'What if Luther had succeeded on killing her after the battle' 

Annelyse shook her head, she should be enjoying the festivities instead of worrying about things that never happened.

But she couldn't help it. 

She wouldn't be standing there if they had been reality. 

"I sense something is troubling you?". Raydan appeared at her side, causing the Aurelian to yelp in surprise. "My gods Raydan! You scared me!".

"My apologies, your highness". He laughed. "But in all seriousness, I'm pretty sure something is distracting you today. A few hours ago you were buzzing in excitement and now ... well, I can say I recognize when your smile is genuine or not". Raydan turned his sight to where the Aurelian's was, spotting Kenna talking with Jackson not far away. "You can talk to me Annelyse, that's what friends are for". 

"Pfft don't worry". The raven haired let out a snort. "I just wanted to regain my energies before going to the dance floor. Even I get tired sometimes.". Annelyse brushed it off. 

Knowing his friend, Raydan decided not to push the topic any further. Facing an angry Annelyse could be pretty scary most of the time. "In that case then, you should return to the party. Sei has a gift for you after that 'contest' you two had in our way back to Stormholt. A barrel of Ember Wine is waiting for us". Annelyse smiled. "Raydan dear". The Aurelian put a hand on his shoulder. "Who said I wanted to share with you?". 

                                                      _________

As the sun set over the fields of Stormholt, Kenna walked through the doors of the throne room. Spotting a familiar woman covered in gold, a mischievous grin appeared in her face. "Has my Queen been enjoying the party?". Kenna asked, making her way towards her wife before wrapping her arms around Annelyse's waist. The Aurelian turned to face the warrior, hands resting on the other woman's shoulders. "It got a little boring without you, darling". 

"I'm sorry it took so long but I know just the thing to make it worth your while". Annelyse raised an eyebrow. "And what is it?".

"My wedding gift for you, now follow me". Kenna took her hand, admiring for a second the golden circlet that rested on her finger. "Come". The brunette guided them out of the celebration, walking between the corridors of the castle until they reached the door to a certain place. Their chambers. 

"Close your eyes and don't open them until I say so". Kenna said, making sure her wife did as she told her. The hero of the Five Kingdoms stepped inside helping the Aurelian before closing the doors behind them. "Ready?". Annelyse nodded. "You can look now". 

The Aurelian opened her eyes, taking in the sight before her. Their chambers had changed almost completely. Bed decorations, tables, mirrors ... everything. "I hoped you would like this. When we were talking about redecorating in Lykos you said you wanted to try saffron ... I added gold so you won't miss Aurelia when we're here". Kenna looked around, proud. 

"I ... Kenna, it's beautiful". 

"Do you like it?". 

"Yes, yes it's wonderful!". 

"I'm glad, I thought this could cheer you up". Annelyse turned to the Queen, a smile on her face alongside a questioning look. Before the raven haired could ask what she meant, Kenna continued. "I talked with Raydan not long ago. He said you were acting strangely when I left. And with good reason he decided to tell me". Kenna stepped closer, lacing their fingers together. "I want to know what's troubling my Queen". She spoke, almost a whisper.

Annelyse sighed, looking up. "Okay, okay. You got me". The Aurelian sat on their bed, Kenna looking at her expectantly. "I know I'm not being my usual cheerful and optimistic self, it's something silly, not really important". 

"It is. It is worrying you. And whatever bothers you, Annelyse, is important to me". 

The Aurelian smiled, Kenna knew what to say in the right time, always. "I know this kind of thoughts shouldn't be clouding my mind, specially in our wedding day. But I've been wondering how things would've turned out if we had taken other decisions. Like, what if I hadn't kissed you when we first met-". 

"You mean, when I kissed you?". Kenna asked, a grin appearing in her face. "Yes, when you kissed me". Annelyse chuckled, her face turning serious a second after. "I have found friends rather than just allies, I have traveled more than I could imagine I would, I had fun even if we were facing a war. This is the happiest I've ever been, my love, but my mind just kept drifting away thinking what if you hadn't forgiven me when I betrayed you or what if Diavolos hadn't helped you when Luther tried to kill you a few days ago. What if you had died when Dom burned you by accident, that day Kenna ... when I saw you, so fragile, Whitlock and I thought you wouldn't make it and that scared me!. What if I had taken the wrong decisions, we wouldn't be here-". 

Kenna's soft laughter interrupted the Aurelian. Annelyse frowned, punching Kenna in the arm. "Ouch". 

"I don't get what's so funny to you". The raven haired woman crossed her arms. Kenna laughed again. "I laugh because you worry over something pointless. But if it makes you feel better, I've thought about those things too". The Queen looked down, still smiling. 

"You have?". Kenna nodded. "I was talking with Dom about that. You said it yourself, this is the happiest we've been in a long time that it almost doesn't feel real". The brunette took a deep breath.

"Annelyse the decisions we've made, I don't regret them. I've said it a thousand times, when you betrayed me I knew your reasons, I wasn't mad. I chose to give us a chance because I felt something could happen between us and look where we are now". Kenna explained. "It wasn't hard to decide, I had friends, I had you to help me figure it all out. And yes, we might have risked our lives because of them but if Leon gave me a wise advice it was that a Queen should never question her decisions. So don't think about the past and what could have been, my love. There is no what if, just think about the present and what will be".

Kenna brushed a strand of black hair out of the Aurelian's face. Their eyes made contact and Kenna smiled, leaning in to leave a soft kiss on her wife's lips. "I don't want you to worry about that, or anything. I just want you to enjoy this moment, with me".

 Annelyse pressed their foreheads together. "You and your charming words". They both smiled, leaning in to share a kiss before getting lost on each other's bodies. 

 What if ... 

 What if she forgot about anything else and just looked forward for tomorrow.

[azunara-archive]

can u believe. its an azu lore post. i know its been a while huh.

ngl i just tagged a bunch of people drac tagged yell at me if u dont want future pings

@unkorea @deadlanddisciple @littleshroomclan @fusefr @incalyscent-fr

"The eldest will go to my sister, Kast. He'll thrive in the Bone Castle, I'm sure of it." Revenant spoke, the skydancer hunched over a small nest of hatchlings, wings half-spread in a protective gesture. He wasn't looking at them, instead focusing on his mate across the nest.

"They're one of our longest standing allies anyways. It'd be a good show of faith. I think the youngest should go to Leechroot--you and I both have sisters there, and she'd be in good hands." The Nighthawk--Mephala--replied, scratching her ideas in the dirt. She was reluctant to get up and get paper and ink, preferring to stay here besides her mate and children.

"The middle child, then? Perhaps the Bloodborn--" Revenant began, only to be cut off by Mephala.

"No. I will not have any of my children near my father."

"CamelCase, then? I had family there, and they're an equally long-standing ally. Kalea spoke highly of her mother as well, and it's one of the few clans that Houndmaster approved of. It seems like high praise in my opinion."

Mephala nodded, gently scooping one of her children back into the nest--the eldest and only boy had tried scrambling out and making a run for it, but she gently nudged him back into place. His youngest sister watched the flurry of activity in the ceilings as Mephala's albino deathseekers came and went. Their eldest daughter was curled up, seemingly asleep, but the way her head flicked slightly with every movement betrayed how intently she was listening to the world around her. She likely heard every word and was pretending she hadn't. Mephala smiled to herself, humming a lullaby she remembered faintly from her childhood.

Her brother had gone, her sister was getting final words of advice from their father, and Namira was stalling. She always knew she'd leave her parent's side at some point, that was inevitable. But now that they were big enough to fend for themselves they had to leave in true Plague fashion, despite their youth. And as her parents had stated multiple times, it was too dangerous to stay in one place.

Her brother had been excited to leave on his own, departing at first light without even waiting for his parents to escort them to the edge of the territory. Namira snorted to herself--of course he'd be eager to go, he was always complaining about how quiet everything was, how his sisters never wanted to wrestle or play--nevermind that he was bigger than them and often beat them handily.

Her sister was about to take aloft with their father now, which didn't particularly surprise Namira. She always had a talent for necromancy, it wasn't surprising Revenant coddled his imperial daughter a bit more. She looked up to the sound of wingbeats as her father and sister took off. She watched them briefly before turning back to her own meager belongings.

A few old notebooks of her mother's, a pair of daggers, a worn doll in the image of the Gladekeeper, and a set of dark leather armor. There was of course the bird food and leashes and jesses their mother gave them as as well as the birds themselves in gilded cages, and each had received a trinket from Revenant's first resurrected bone construct--a good luck charm of sorts.

She pricked her feathers as she sensed her mother behind her. Mephala's shadow cast over her and Namira tied everything together before speaking, "Time to go?"

Mephala gave her daughter a gentle nudge, "You've gotten better at noticing what's happening around you. You'll make an excellent spymaster, little raven."

Namira turned to face her mother with a small smile, blinking hard to chase the tears out of her eyes. "You really think so?"

"Of course. I've included a list of some of my lesser contacts in those books. It will be a good place for you to start. Some day, you might even surpass myself. I look forward to that day." Mephala smiled at that, even as she was crying. Her throat tightened--was this how her mother had felt, long ago when they were released into the Wasteland? Mephala had been younger than Namira before her, and ill-prepared by comparison, and yet there was still that stab of anguish as she prepared to let her daughter go.

"You have your map, right?" Mephala said after a few seconds trying to recollect herself.

"Yeah," Namira said, her voice hitched high with a sniffle. "I do."

"I'll take you to the edge of the territory. You'll have to fly the rest of the way through the Plateau, and then you'll have to cross through the Wasteland before you reach the Tangled Wood--but it'll be okay. The Plateau is an easy flight, and you have Plague magic in your blood. You won't fall susceptible to anything there, and you're a swift flier. You can outrace anyone who gives you trouble, and most won't if you tell them you're the daughter of the Nighthawk. Your birds will give your heritage away sure enough."

"Still, you be careful. Send me a bird when you make it, okay? And don't take any unneccesary risks."

Namira nodded, unable to bring herself to speak. She made a choked noise before crashing forward to embrace her mother, burying her face into her mother's shoulder one last time.

"I love you, my little raven. Fly swift, fly well."

It had been a few hours since her mother had turned back to the small stretch of territory they owned. Namira had flown a swift pace to get through the Plateau as quickly as possible, but now she had slowed down significantly, each wingbeat cause a pulse of pain along her spine.

The bird cages on her sides rattled as the crows inside chirped irritably, and her belongings weighed heavy on her. Still, she had to find a safe place to land. She scanned the Wastelands below her and for miles it was flat stretches of land. Too exposed for her tastes. Closer to the Arcane border there was a forest of sorts--rotted and still pestilent like much of the land, but at least she could find a place to lay low and sleep for the night.

She tilted her wings and adjusted her flight, soaring onwards. It took another hour of steady flying before she was over the forest itself. As she drew closer, she saw a huge pillar of white stone, dappled with bleeding red pools. It unsettled her for some reason, and she veered away from it. Perhaps staying in the forest wasn't such a good idea after all. She sighed, rallying herself for another few hours of flight.

Suddenly, her back and wings became ablaze with pain as something crashed into them, as if someone was shredding her upper half with thousands of claws and teeth. She twisted, plummeting as she tried to see what was attacking her. The creature was blurry, hard to pinpoint as it moved erratically, as if her brain refused to recognize it.

It clawed its way higher into the sky for a second swoop and Namira let herself fall further, eyes squinted as she tried to figure out what the thing was. It appeared almost like one a heartred croaker, with huge fleshy wings and a reptillian face. But something was very wrong with it.

Its wings were crimson, but that was because it was lined with hundreds of visible veins, making the wings pulse with each movement. Namira realized now that the underside of its belly was crimson with veins as well, a rosy shade of red that stood stark against the sky. It had no eyes either, instead empty sockets with roses sprouting from them, and flashing rows of teeth as it snapped at the air aimlessly.

The ground rushed up to meet her--boughs of blood red trees and bone white branches stretching for her in a fatal catch. She frantically braced her wings to try and slow her descent--the beast above her had no such fear of the ground evidently as it dove madly towards her at full speed.

Namira squeezed her eyes shut as she collided with the trees, hearing the branches snap and break under her weight. The branches tore at her flesh and she winced in pain. However, slowing down had prevented her from the fate that the beast was experiencing. It dashed itself against the trees, moving too quickly and impaling itself on a branch.

She let herself fall to the ground and collapse, panting hard. After several seconds she did a quick assessment--miraculously, all of her belongings were intact, and the birds in the cages were rattled and angry but otherwise unharmed. "Thank the Gods," Namira whispered as she sat up on her haunches, looking around her. Night was rapidly falling, and she had to find somewhere to camp for the night. She started slowly moving in a direction, limping along in pain.

Half an hour later and she realized everything still looked largely the same--she was definitely lost and had zero way of figuring out any rhyme or reason to this forest. "Figures," Namira hissed to her birds, "I bet the others got to where they needed just safely, and here I am stuck in this damn forest."

She shook herself, trying to calm herself. "Okay, okay. What would Mom do? She wouldn't panic, right, so I gotta stay calm. Just stay calm. It'll be alright."

"Namira, come quickly! Help!" A voice rang out and Namira froze. It was her brother crying out for help, and she raced towards the voice, ignoring her pain. His voice grew louder, more desperate, when she suddenly froze. There was no way he would be here.

His route took him much farther south, closer to the Water border than the Arcane border. What was he doing calling for help?

"Namira, please!" Her sister's voice rang out then, followed by a chorus of her mother and father and brother all begging her for help. She recoiled, confused and afraid as the forest came alive with the desperate pleas of her family.

Something was coming now--she could see something moving swiftly through the trees. Its movements were erratic and too quick for her eyes to follow, much like the beast she had faced earlier. The voices followed after it, chorusing along as it screamed. Namira backed away, wings fluffed up in distress.

"Go away!" She yowled, setting off running once more. The voices followed, except instead of a chorus of pleas for help they became mad laughter, her entire family howling in mocking laughter.

Then she realized there was literal howling.

Something crashed into her, knocking her into the ground. The forest came alive with a chorus of snarls, and Namira was aware something was standing over her. She curled up in fear, wings folded over her head as she tried to make herself as small as possible.

There was a shriek in the woods as the horrible laughter became different voices, then howls of anger, then silence. Namira opened an eye to see a huge black wolf standing over her. The wolf had shots of silver in their fur and was covered in scars, yet it still snarled ferociously as it kept a protective position.

She realized then she wasn't alone--other dragons had come. There were two imperials, both wearing ferocious wolf capes, and a wildclaw with a dark wolf pelt matching the wolf that stood atop Namira. One of the imperials then spoke up, the one with a white wolf fur cloak.

"S'good thing we heard you, huh?" She said with an easy grin. "You would've been dinner for that beast if we hadn't come along."

"Are you well?" The other imperial asked, moving closer to inspect her. The wolf stepped away to stand by the wildclaw, letting the imperial look closely at Namira. Namira froze as the huge imperial loomed over her, yet there was something familiar about the dragons, something in the smell.

The wildclaw came closer then, wiping her sword clean and sheathing it in one smooth move. She inspected Namira, head tilted, before she finally spoke, "One of the Blood Queen's spawn."

Namira blinked in confusion, peering at the wildclaw. How--?

"Her magic's odd, though. S'got nature and arcane along with Plague." The white-wolf imperial piped up. "Smells like home too."

"...Then they lived." The gray-wolf imperial mused. "Unbelievable. I thought we were the only survivors."

Namira shuffled upright, squinting at her rescuers. "Wait, who are you? Do you know my parents?"

"My name's Kalea!" The white-wolf imperial chirped, and then gestured to her twin, "This is Kyrja."

"And I'm Mellori," the wildclaw stated calmly, a hint of amusement tracing her features as Namira's eyes widened.

"The Houndmaster?" Namira asked, "Mom and Dad talked about you, said you were one of the bravest dragons they knew."

"And humor me, who were your parents of Saeva Renatus blood?" The wildclaw said.

"Mephala and Revenant."

"As I figured. It's good to hear others of our clan managed to survive." Mellori seemed pleased by this knowledge. "I was always sad that our pack had been crippled so."

"We should get her back to the camp." Kyrja said calmly, "She's pretty hurt."

"C'mon, hop on my back." Kalea grinned, stretching out so Namira could clamber aboard. The skydancer obliged, and from her perch realized that beyond these dragons there were numerous strange creatures--bone constructs like her father's, but imbued with steel as well and dog-shaped. Such was the Pack of the Houndmaster, she supposed.

"Y'think Anaimia will be angry?" Kalea asked as she padded along. Namira simply listened to the conversation--now that she was safe she was too exhausted to really contribute. She hadn't realized how tired she was.

"Doubt it. She has strong lineages and I'm sure even Anaimia has heard of the Nighthawk," Kyrja replied.

"Oughta let her stay, then. I kinda feel bad for her, though. Never gonna get to where she was going." Kalea's voice was quiet, and Namira could barely hear it.

"She'll be safe here." Mellori said smoothly, "I will keep an eye on her, as a child of my packmates. The--" Mellori's voice drifted away, or perhaps more accurately, Namira drifted away into sleep, lulled by the rocking movements of Kalea.

Her last thoughts before she fully slipped unconscious was how would she explain what happened to her parents.

[mastcomm]

Your Friday Briefing – The New York Times

Coronavirus cases soar in China

Health officials said that 564 people had died from the virus and that there had been more than 28,000 confirmed cases, an increase of more than 35 percent in just a few days.

Outside of China, 225 cases have been reported, and a death in the Philippines. But the World Health Organization said that no new countries had reported cases.

Here are the latest updates.

Wuhan: A 34-year-old doctor who tried to raise the alert about the coronavirus has died of it. The authorities in the city, the epicenter of the outbreak, will begin rounding up the infected into mass quarantine camps. People are scrambling to muster help in Pittsburgh, Wuhan’s “sister city” of 40 years.

Quarantines: The number of coronavirus cases aboard a cruise ship quarantined off Japan doubled to 20. And Australian evacuees taken to Christmas Island, a former detention center for asylum seekers, were given sunscreen, sandals and video games, but some complained about conditions there.

Celebrating acquittal, Trump calls his impeachment ‘evil’

In a long, stream-of-consciousness speech at the White House on Thursday, President Trump said the Democrats who impeached him were “corrupt” and “horrible” and claimed vindication following his acquittal a day earlier in the Senate’s impeachment trial.

“It was evil,” he said. Some of his remarks veered into profanity.

While thanking his allies, Mr. Trump said “top scum” at the F.B.I. had long plotted to end his presidency.

He personally attacked top Democrats, including Speaker Nancy Pelosi and Representative Adam Schiff, and mocked Senator Mitt Romney, the only Republican to vote to convict him.

Context: President Bill Clinton reacted to his own impeachment acquittal in 1999 by calling for reconciliation.

Dead heat, and more errors, in Iowa count

Senator Bernie Sanders drew nearly even with Pete Buttigieg after the release of almost all results in the Iowa caucuses, the crucial first contest in the race for the Democratic presidential nomination.

The state party has been delivering results piecemeal since Monday amid delays attributed to “quality control.” But a New York Times analysis found a slew of errors and inconsistencies, raising doubts about whether there will ever be a definitive outcome. Here are live updates.

Response: With 3 percent of results still outstanding, Mr. Sanders declared victory, while Tom Perez, the Democratic National Committee chairman, called for the Iowa Democratic Party to “immediately begin a recanvass” in order to “assure public confidence in the results.”

Iraqis doubt U.S. accusation against Iran-linked militia

Just six weeks ago, an attack killed an U.S. contractor in Iraq. The U.S. blamed an Iranian-backed militia and, at the peak of a series of retaliatory exchanges with Iran, killed the country’s top general, Maj. Gen. Qassim Suleimani.

For a time, the U.S. and Iran were at the brink of war, and Iran accidentally downed a Ukrainian passenger jet, killing 176 people.

But Iraqi military and intelligence officials now say they believe it is unlikely the militia — which denies responsibility — carried out the attack that killed the contractor. They say that circumstantial evidence points to a different culprit: the Islamic State.

Our correspondent in Iraq investigated.

Grounds for doubt: The volley of rockets that killed the contractor on Dec. 27 was fired from a truck in a Sunni Muslim part of Iraq’s Kirkuk Province. The area was notorious for attacks by the Islamic State, but would have been hostile territory for the Shiite militia the U.S. blamed, Khataib Hezbollah. That militia has not had a presence in the area since 2014.

If you have 7 minutes, this is worth it

The Oscars tell a story of their own

Ahead of the Academy Awards on Sunday, our critic Wesley Morris discussed the nine films nominated for best picture, eight of which are about white people.

“Couldn’t these nine movies just be evidence of taste? Good taste? They certainly could. They are.” But after years of threatened boycotts and diversification campaigns, he writes, “the assembly of these movies feels like a body’s allergic reaction to its own efforts at rehabilitation.”

Here’s what else is happening

Boeing investigation: The company and U.S. safety officials are refusing to cooperate with a new inquiry by Dutch lawmakers into a crash near Amsterdam in 2009 that killed nine people and had striking parallels with two more recent accidents involving the manufacturer’s 737 Max.

Night sky: Like SpaceX, the telecommunications company OneWeb plans to build a constellation of internet satellites for beaming internet back to earth. Astronomers fear that the satellites will seriously mar their view of the universe.

China: For years, the Thousand Talents recruitment plan attracted U.S. scientists with grants. Federal prosecutors now say China used the program to purloin sensitive technology.

Snapshot: Above, a selfie by the astronaut Christina Koch in October. She is back on Earth after completing three all-female spacewalks and setting a record for time in space. We looked at an even broader range of her accomplishments.

Cook: Finish the week with a hearty one-pan meal of roast chicken and mustard-glazed cabbage.

Listen: “I’m the Man” is the first single on “To Love Is to Live,” the debut solo by Jehnny Beth. The longtime frontwoman of the post-punk band Savages spoke to The Times about going solo.

Read: “Why We’re Polarized,” by Ezra Klein of the news site Vox, debuts this week on our hardcover nonfiction and combined print and e-book nonfiction best-seller lists.

Smarter Living: Our advice column Culture Therapist suggests ways to solve your problems using art. Today’s question is about opening oneself to new romantic relationships.

And now for the Back Story on …

Covering the Oscars

The Oscars are just two days away, and that means it’s crunch time for Kyle Buchanan, The Times’s Carpetbagger columnist. He spoke to Sara Aridi of the Culture desk about what it’s like to cover the awards show.

What stands out about this year’s season?

After last year, where Netflix was so ascendant, people are very excited about movies in the theater. “1917” is one of those movies that you need to see in a theater, and “Parasite” became such a massive word-of-mouth hit in the theater. Those movies provide that encapsulation of what we go to the movies for.

We go to see something on a gigantic screen that moves us in a gigantic way. We go to be transported into an experience that startles and shocks us. Streaming has its virtues and its pleasure, but I think those are two unique testimonials to what the theatrical experience can be.

Do the Oscars still carry weight in pop culture?

Absolutely. If the Oscars reflect Hollywood in 2020, it says that we’re still going through growing pains about the streaming era and that we still have a lot of ground to make up when it comes to representation and whose stories we take seriously.

How have you been preparing for the big night?

I’m trying to get a full night’s sleep. In the campaigning phase, from November to the Oscar nominations, you can go to a brunch for a certain star, and then to a lunchtime screening with a Q. and A., and then to an afternoon performance of a song contender, and then a premiere and then an after-party.

What else have you seen that readers might not know?

Joaquin Phoenix [who’s up for best actor for “The Joker”] has been a fascinating figure on this circuit. He’s trying to both play the game and stay out of it at the same time. All these awards shows have bent over backward to attract him.

I never would have thought I would miss the boiled chicken breast I usually got at these shows, but they have converted to a plant-based menu in the hopes that Joaquin will attend.

That’s it for this briefing. See you next time.

— Penn

Thank you To Mark Josephson and Eleanor Stanford for the break from the news. You can reach the team at briefing@nytimes.com.

P.S. • We’re listening to “The Daily.” Our latest episode is about Senator Mitt Romney’s vote to convict President Trump. • Here’s our Mini Crossword, and a clue: What the Earth revolves on (four letters). You can find all our puzzles here. • The 1619 Project is the centerpiece of a new wave of ads from “The Truth Is Worth It,” a Times campaign. Those with access to YouTube can preview our latest TV commercial, which will air during the Oscars on Sunday, featuring the singer, actor and producer Janelle Monáe.

from WordPress https://mastcomm.com/your-friday-briefing-the-new-york-times-10/

[wetrumpfeed]

Afternoon MAGAthread: YOUR WEEKLY PRESIDENTIAL RECAP!

HAPPY SATURDAY SUPER ELITES!

This is u/Ivaginaryfriend here and I'm back with a recap of last weeks winning! If you happened to miss any past recaps you can catch those here!

Sunday, June 2nd:

TODAY'S ACTION:

President Trump Delivers Remarks at the Ford's Theatre Gala

President Trump Delivers Remarks Upon Departure

🔥🔥TRUMP TWEETS🔥🔥:

The Democrats are doing nothing on the Border to address the Humanitarian and National Security Crisis! Could be fixed so easily if they would vote with Republicans to fix the loopholes.

People have been saying for years that we should talk to Mexico. The problem is that Mexico is an “abuser” of the United States, taking but never giving. It has been this way for decades. Either they stop the invasion of our Country by Drug Dealers, Cartels, Human Traffickers.... ... ....Coyotes and Illegal Immigrants, which they can do very easily, or our many companies and jobs that have been foolishly allowed to move South of the Border, will be brought back into the United States through taxation (Tariffs). America has had enough!

The Wall is under construction and moving along quickly, despite all of the Radical Liberal Democrat lawsuits. What are they thinking as our Country is invaded by so many people (illegals) and things (Drugs) that we do not want. Make America Great Again!

NO COLLUSION, NO OBSTRUCTION, NO NOTHING! “What the Democrats are trying to do is the biggest sin in the impeachment business.” David Rivkin, Constitutional Scholar. Meantime, the Dems are getting nothing done in Congress. They are frozen stiff. Get back to work, much to do!

I never called Meghan Markle “nasty.” Made up by the Fake News Media, and they got caught cold! Will @CNN, @nytimes and others apologize? Doubt it!

Peggy Noonan, the simplistic writer for Trump Haters all, is stuck in the past glory of Reagan and has no idea what is happening with the Radical Left Democrats, or how vicious and desperate they are. Mueller had to correct his ridiculous statement, Peggy never understood it!

Mexico is sending a big delegation to talk about the Border. Problem is, they’ve been “talking” for 25 years. We want action, not talk. They could solve the Border Crisis in one day if they so desired. Otherwise, our companies and jobs are coming back to the USA!

Democrats can’t impeach a Republican President for crimes committed by Democrats. The facts are “pouring” in. The Greatest Witch Hunt in American History! Congress, go back to work and help us at the Border, with Drug Prices and on Infrastructure.

Hearing word that Russia, Syria and, to a lesser extent, Iran, are bombing the hell out of Idlib Province in Syria, and indiscriminately killing many innocent civilians. The World is watching this butchery. What is the purpose, what will it get you? STOP!

Kevin Hassett, who has done such a great job for me and the Administration, will be leaving shortly. His very talented replacement will be named as soon as I get back to the U.S. I want to thank Kevin for all he has done - he is a true friend!

BIG NEWS! As I promised two weeks ago, the first shipment of LNG has just left the Cameron LNG Export Facility in Louisiana. Not only have thousands of JOBS been created in USA, we’re shipping freedom and opportunity abroad!

SIGNIFICANT TWEETS AND NEWS:

Elon Musk Schools Fake News Media

Daily Beast Says Facebook Helped Them Dox Trump Supporter | Breitbart

FAKE NEWS - Look how they subtly try to manipulate the way you think .

Fucking bitch says Dems need to take "kill shot" on Trump, then acts like she didn't realize what she was saying. ABC leaves it in show. DECLAS is about to expose her traitor dad. Lock them all the fuck up.

🐸 TOP SPICE OF THE DAY 🐸:

Message straight from the White House

Last time I posted this it caused a massive triggering, and we were invaded, and it was eventually downvoted to 0 from 300. Round 2, let's do this.

"Progress" in Europe

👌🏻

Tim pool vs msm

Monday, June 3rd:

TODAY'S ACTION:

President Donald J. Trump Announces Intent to Nominate Individual to a Key Administration Post

🔥🔥TRUMP TWEETS🔥🔥:

.@SadiqKhan, who by all accounts has done a terrible job as Mayor of London, has been foolishly “nasty” to the visiting President of the United States, by far the most important ally of the United Kingdom. He is a stone cold loser who should focus on crime in London, not me...... ... ....Kahn reminds me very much of our very dumb and incompetent Mayor of NYC, de Blasio, who has also done a terrible job - only half his height. In any event, I look forward to being a great friend to the United Kingdom, and am looking very much forward to my visit. Landing now!

Thank you! 🇺🇸🇬🇧

China is subsidizing its product in order that it can continue to be sold in the USA. Many firms are leaving China for other countries, including the United States, in order to avoid paying the Tariffs. No visible increase in costs or inflation, but U.S. is taking Billions!

Just arrived in the United Kingdom. The only problem is that @CNN is the primary source of news available from the U.S. After watching it for a short while, I turned it off. All negative & so much Fake News, very bad for U.S. Big ratings drop. Why doesn’t owner @ATT do something?

I believe that if people stoped using or subscribing to @ATT, they would be forced to make big changes at @CNN, which is dying in the ratings anyway. It is so unfair with such bad, Fake News! Why wouldn’t they act. When the World watches @CNN, it gets a false picture of USA. Sad!

London part of trip is going really well. The Queen and the entire Royal family have been fantastic. The relationship with the United Kingdom is very strong. Tremendous crowds of well wishers and people that love our Country. Haven’t seen any protests yet, but I’m sure the.... ... ....Fake News will be working hard to find them. Great love all around. Also, big Trade Deal is possible once U.K. gets rid of the shackles. Already starting to talk!

Russia has informed us that they have removed most of their people from Venezuela.

As a sign of good faith, Mexico should immediately stop the flow of people and drugs through their country and to our Southern Border. They can do it if they want!

SIGNIFICANT TWEETS AND NEWS:

Now THAT is a FLOTUS.

CNN is one giant meme...

Facts You Won't See on CNN

Judge tosses House Dems' lawsuit over Trump's use of emergency military funds for border wall

BREAKING: California state bar moves to suspend Avenatti's law license, saying he poses 'substantial threat of harm to clients or the public'

The Democrats Don't Even Try to Hide it, They HATE America

🐸 TOP SPICE OF THE DAY 🐸:

The Trump balloon surveys the carnage that is part and parcel of daily life in Sadiq Khan's London

How Her Majesty looks at Meghan Markle vs how she looks at President Trump.

POTUS Keepin' an Eye on Fake News while Peepin' the Queen's Trinkets

The floor is the FALSE SONG OF GLOBALISM

Tuesday, June 4th:

TODAY'S ACTION:

President Donald J. Trump Announces Intent to Nominate Individual to a Key Administration Post

President Trump and First Lady Melania Trump's Visit to the United Kingdom - Day 1

President Trump Participates in a Press Conference with the Prime Minister of UK & Northern Ireland

President Trump Participates in a Business Roundtable

🔥🔥TRUMP TWEETS🔥🔥:

#USStateVisit🇺🇸🇬🇧

President Trump Participates in a Press Conference with the Prime Minister of UK & Northern Ireland

Thank you @Theresa_May!🇺🇸🇬🇧

Can you imagine Cryin’ Chuck Schumer saying out loud, for all to hear, that I am bluffing with respect to putting Tariffs on Mexico. What a Creep. He would rather have our Country fail with drugs & Immigration than give Republicans a win. But he gave Mexico bad advice, no bluff!

Washed up psycho @BetteMidler was forced to apologize for a statement she attributed to me that turned out to be totally fabricated by her in order to make “your great president” look really bad. She got caught, just like the Fake News Media gets caught. A sick scammer!

#USStateVisit🇺🇸🇬🇧

Plagiarism charge against Sleepy Joe Biden on his ridiculous Climate Change Plan is a big problem, but the Corrupt Media will save him. His other problem is that he is drawing flies, not people, to his Rallies. Nobody is showing up, I mean nobody. You can’t win without people!

I kept hearing that there would be “massive” rallies against me in the UK, but it was quite the opposite. The big crowds, which the Corrupt Media hates to show, were those that gathered in support of the USA and me. They were big & enthusiastic as opposed to the organized flops!

Just had a big victory in Federal Court over the Democrats in the House on the desperately needed Border Wall. A big step in the right direction. Wall is under construction!

SIGNIFICANT TWEETS AND NEWS:

Never forget what they did to this family, as they will most assuredly do the same to yours.

'Coward of Broward' police deputy arrested for inaction during Parkland mass shooting

ICE planning large-scale deportations that 'will include families'

BBC and uk politicians heads explode in- 3-2-1 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 link in comments

Trump destroys Sadiq Khan - Mayor of London 🔴 Press Conference

🐸 TOP SPICE OF THE DAY 🐸:

MAGA 2020

Yes, we do lay out a red carpet for our favourite world leader and no, liberals you can’t stop us!

Absolute truth

Beef Status : Roasted

Then I said... "Because You'd be in Jail"

Wednesday, June 5th:

TODAY'S ACTION:

Three Nominations and One Withdrawal Sent to the Senate

President Trump Participates in a Bilateral Meeting with the Prime Minister of Ireland

🔥🔥TRUMP TWEETS🔥🔥:

.@FLOTUS Melania and I send our deepest condolences to President Reuven Rivlin and the entire State of Israel upon the passing of Mrs. Nechama Rivlin. Mrs. Rivlin represented her beloved country with grace and stature. We will miss her along with all those who knew her.

Could not have been treated more warmly in the United Kingdom by the Royal Family or the people. Our relationship has never been better, and I see a very big Trade Deal down the road. “This trip has been an incredible success for the President.” @IngrahamAngle

House Democrats, fresh off a Republican victory against them (in Federal Court) on the Wall, keep asking people to come and testify regarding the No Collusion Witch Hunt. They are very unhappy with the Mueller Report, especially with his corrective letter, & now want a Do Over!

If the totally Corrupt Media was less corrupt, I would be up by 15 points in the polls based on our tremendous success with the economy, maybe Best Ever! If the Corrupt Media was actually fair, I would be up by 25 points. Nevertheless, despite the Fake News, we’re doing great!

“House Republicans support the President on Tariffs with Mexico all the way, & that makes any measure the President takes on the Border totally Veto proof. Why wouldn’t you as Republicans support him when that will allow our President to make a better deal.” Thank you @GOPLeader

As we approach the 75th Anniversary of D-Day, we proudly commemorate those heroic and honorable patriots who gave their all for the cause of freedom during some of history’s darkest hours. #DDay75

Immigration discussions at the White House with representatives of Mexico have ended for the day. Progress is being made, but not nearly enough! Border arrests for May are at 133,000 because of Mexico & the Democrats in Congress refusing to budge on immigration reform. Further... ... ....talks with Mexico will resume tomorrow with the understanding that, if no agreement is reached, Tariffs at the 5% level will begin on Monday, with monthly increases as per schedule. The higher the Tariffs go, the higher the number of companies that will move back to the USA!

#DDay75thAnniversary #DDay75

“The President has received glowing reviews from the British Media. Here at home, not so much. MSNBC Ramps up hateful coverage and promotes conspiracy theories during Trump’s trip to Europe.” @seanhannity The good news is that @maddow is dying in the ratings, along with @CNN!

A big and beautiful day today!

Heading over to Normandy to celebrate some of the bravest that ever lived. We are eternally grateful! #DDay75thAnniversary #DDay75

SIGNIFICANT TWEETS AND NEWS:

Just Donald Trump wearing Winston Churchill's bowler hat

POTUS showed his dominance over the rest of the world leaders.

Youtube has banned a respected history channel for "hate speech." Thanks, Vox.

Guilty until proven innocent for the Samaritans

WINNING: Judge approves more than $6 billion in border wall funding

🐸 TOP SPICE OF THE DAY 🐸:

Celebrate

Ouch

Don't Hate the Straight

A baconator is in order

The GEOTUS finger point

Thursday, June 6th:

TODAY'S ACTION:

Proclamation on National Day of Remembrance of the 75th Anniversary of D-Day

President Trump Delivers Departure Remarks

President Trump and The First Lady Participate in the 75th Commemoration of D-Day

President Trump Participates in a Bilateral Meeting with the President of the French Republic

🔥🔥TRUMP TWEETS🔥🔥:

#DDay75thAnniversary

So sorry to hear about the terrible accident involving our GREAT West Point Cadets. We mourn the loss of life and pray for the injured. God Bless them ALL!

Today, we remember those who fell, and we honor all who fought, here in Normandy. They won back this ground for civilization. To more than 170 Veterans of the Second World War who join us today: You are among the very greatest Americans who will ever live! #DDay75thAnniversary

To the men who sit behind me, and to the boys who rest in the field before me: your example will never grow old. Your legend will never tire, and your spirit - brave, unyielding, and true - will NEVER DIE! #DDay75thAnniversary

Just signed Disaster Aid Bill to help Americans who have been hit by recent catastrophic storms. So important for our GREAT American farmers and ranchers. Help for GA, FL, IA, NE, NC, and CA. Puerto Rico should love President Trump. Without me, they would have been shut out!

#DDay75thAnniversary

John Solomon: Factual errors and major omissions in the Mueller Report show that it is totally biased against Trump.

“Mueller’s report was pure, political garbage!” @SeanHannity

#DDay75thAnniversary #DDay75

SIGNIFICANT TWEETS AND NEWS:

President Trump hugging Russell Pickett, 94, the last survivor of Company A whose young men led the Omaha Beach charge on D-Day. Private Pickett was just 19 years old; 96% of A Company suffered casualties within the first 30-45 minutes.

We had our heads chopped off by a blunt knife screaming for our mommies and reddit scrubbed every mention of our story because they are globalist muslim shills

Trump Administration and Taiwan announce $2+ Billion deal for Taiwan to purchase over 100 M1A2 tanks, 1600+ Javelin & TOW anti-tank missiles and 250 stinger missiles. MSM frets about “angering” an increasingly aggressive China

Our President over in France taking time to shake every WW2 veterans in attendance hand and they love him and Melania

Call to action: time to report vox for violations of TOS on YouTube!

🐸 TOP SPICE OF THE DAY 🐸:

VOX burn books

Saw this hilarious sign and knew exactly where to post.

Jihad Barbie has a tax problem.

My nephew is in the ROTC group presenting the VP Pence with the flag in full WWII Uniform!! So damn proud 🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸

Friday, June 7th:

TODAY'S ACTION:

Proclamation on Flag Day and National Flag Week, 2019

🔥🔥TRUMP TWEETS🔥🔥:

Video

Video

HAPPY BIRTHDAY to our great @VP Mike Pence!

China is subsidizing its product in order that it can continue to be sold in the USA. Many firms are leaving China for other countries, including the United States, in order to avoid paying the Tariffs. No visible increase in costs or inflation, but U.S. is taking in Billions!

Nervous Nancy Pelosi is a disgrace to herself and her family for having made such a disgusting statement, especially since I was with foreign leaders overseas. There is no evidence for such a thing to have been said. Nervous Nancy & Dems are getting Zero work done in Congress.... ... ...and have no intention of doing anything other than going on a fishing expedition to see if they can find anything on me - both illegal & unprecedented in U.S. history. There was no Collusion - Investigate the Investigators! Go to work on Drug Price Reductions & Infrastructure!

If we are able to make the deal with Mexico, & there is a good chance that we will, they will begin purchasing Farm & Agricultural products at very high levels, starting immediately. If we are unable to make the deal, Mexico will begin paying Tariffs at the 5% level on Monday!

Democrats are incapable of doing a good and solid Immigration Bill!

For all of the money we are spending, NASA should NOT be talking about going to the Moon - We did that 50 years ago. They should be focused on the much bigger things we are doing, including Mars (of which the Moon is a part), Defense and Science!

Heading back to D.C. Many great things are happening for our Country!

Dow Jones has best week of the year!

I am pleased to inform you that The United States of America has reached a signed agreement with Mexico. The Tariffs scheduled to be implemented by the U.S. on Monday, against Mexico, are hereby indefinitely suspended. Mexico, in turn, has agreed to take strong measures to.... ... ....stem the tide of Migration through Mexico, and to our Southern Border. This is being done to greatly reduce, or eliminate, Illegal Immigration coming from Mexico and into the United States. Details of the agreement will be released shortly by the State Department. Thank you!

SIGNIFICANT TWEETS AND NEWS:

MN investigation shows Rep. Omar filed EIGHT YEARS of false tax returns

[Timeline] Spygate - or how the US intelligence tried to depose a duly elected president

FBI Vault released Part 33 of their Hillary "She belongs in Jail" Clinton investigation.

BREAKING: State Department releases the following statement outlining the agreement between the U.S. and Mexico

Judicial Watch: FBI Docs Show Notes about Meeting with Intelligence Community Inspector General about Clinton Emails are ‘Missing’ and CD Containing Notes Is Likely ‘Damaged’ Irreparably - Judicial Watch

🐸 TOP SPICE OF THE DAY 🐸:

Nervous Nancy (D)

Sand from Omaha Beach is used to make the names on white crosses more visible

BIDEN THE BITCH...can be swayed to change his opinion by ALYSSA MILANO....😂😂😂😂. What a pussy. Maybe he’ll flip on the HYDE ruling again tomorrow. 👌🏻

POTUS and FLOTUS

These young women admiring POTUS. 2020 is in the bag folks!🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸

Saturday, June 8th:

🔥🔥TRUMP TWEETS🔥🔥:

While the reviews and reporting on our Border Immigration Agreement with Mexico have been very good, there has nevertheless been much false reporting (surprise!) by the Fake and Corrupt News Media, such as Comcast/NBC, CNN, @nytimes & @washingtonpost. These “Fakers” are Bad News!

Brandon Judd, National Border Patrol Council: “That’s going to be a huge deal because Mexico will be using their strong Immigration Laws - A game changer. People no longer will be released into the U.S.” Also, 6000 Mexican Troops at their Southern Border. Currently there are few!

Mexico will try very hard, and if they do that, this will be a very successful agreement for both the United States and Mexico!

MEXICO HAS AGREED TO IMMEDIATELY BEGIN BUYING LARGE QUANTITIES OF AGRICULTURAL PRODUCT FROM OUR GREAT PATRIOT FARMERS!

Nervous Nancy Pelosi & the Democrat House are getting nothing done. Perhaps they could lead the way with the USMCA, the spectacular & very popular new Trade Deal that replaces NAFTA, the worst Trade Deal in the history of the U.S.A. Great for our Farmers, Manufacturers & Unions!

Everyone very excited about the new deal with Mexico!

I would like to thank the President of Mexico, Andres Manuel Lopez Obrador, and his foreign minister, Marcelo Ebrard, together with all of the many representatives of both the United States and Mexico, for working so long and hard to get our agreement on immigration completed!

SIGNIFICANT TWEETS AND NEWS:

Ted Cruz with the reckoning—This will not end well.

Mueller put the public at risk through Nader

HUGE: @RealDonaldTrump Takes Border Crisis Head On; Bruce Ohr Gets $28k Bonus in Middle of Spygate Abuses; Muller Report Fails; And More Clinton Email Docs Go Missing. Massive Judicial Watch Update!

Trump Deal with Mexico Likely Ends Catch-and-Release, Defunds Cartels

🐸 TOP SPICE OF THE DAY 🐸:

When you don’t understand how President Trump negotiated a successful Mexico border deal without sending pallets of cash

Finally found the Bolsonaro vs. the Commie Reaper meme I’ve been looking for since last year.

Gillette be like:

WEEEW LAD!

Without further ado, some tunes to get you jamming through all this winning:

Light

True Feeling

Swing Tree

Wait A Minute!

Chasing Colors

MAGA ON PATRIOTS!

submitted by /u/Ivaginaryfriend [link] [comments]

[robgrayofficial]

HAPPY SATURDAY SUPER ELITES!This is u/Ivaginaryfriend here and I'm back with a recap of last weeks winning! If you happened to miss any past recaps you can catch those here!Sunday, June 2nd:TODAY'S ACTION:President Trump Delivers Remarks at the Ford's Theatre GalaPresident Trump Delivers Remarks Upon Departure🔥🔥TRUMP TWEETS🔥🔥:The Democrats are doing nothing on the Border to address the Humanitarian and National Security Crisis! Could be fixed so easily if they would vote with Republicans to fix the loopholes.People have been saying for years that we should talk to Mexico. The problem is that Mexico is an “abuser” of the United States, taking but never giving. It has been this way for decades. Either they stop the invasion of our Country by Drug Dealers, Cartels, Human Traffickers.... ... ....Coyotes and Illegal Immigrants, which they can do very easily, or our many companies and jobs that have been foolishly allowed to move South of the Border, will be brought back into the United States through taxation (Tariffs). America has had enough!The Wall is under construction and moving along quickly, despite all of the Radical Liberal Democrat lawsuits. What are they thinking as our Country is invaded by so many people (illegals) and things (Drugs) that we do not want. Make America Great Again!NO COLLUSION, NO OBSTRUCTION, NO NOTHING! “What the Democrats are trying to do is the biggest sin in the impeachment business.” David Rivkin, Constitutional Scholar. Meantime, the Dems are getting nothing done in Congress. They are frozen stiff. Get back to work, much to do!I never called Meghan Markle “nasty.” Made up by the Fake News Media, and they got caught cold! Will @CNN, @nytimes and others apologize? Doubt it!Peggy Noonan, the simplistic writer for Trump Haters all, is stuck in the past glory of Reagan and has no idea what is happening with the Radical Left Democrats, or how vicious and desperate they are. Mueller had to correct his ridiculous statement, Peggy never understood it!Mexico is sending a big delegation to talk about the Border. Problem is, they’ve been “talking” for 25 years. We want action, not talk. They could solve the Border Crisis in one day if they so desired. Otherwise, our companies and jobs are coming back to the USA!Democrats can’t impeach a Republican President for crimes committed by Democrats. The facts are “pouring” in. The Greatest Witch Hunt in American History! Congress, go back to work and help us at the Border, with Drug Prices and on Infrastructure.Hearing word that Russia, Syria and, to a lesser extent, Iran, are bombing the hell out of Idlib Province in Syria, and indiscriminately killing many innocent civilians. The World is watching this butchery. What is the purpose, what will it get you? STOP!Kevin Hassett, who has done such a great job for me and the Administration, will be leaving shortly. His very talented replacement will be named as soon as I get back to the U.S. I want to thank Kevin for all he has done - he is a true friend!BIG NEWS! As I promised two weeks ago, the first shipment of LNG has just left the Cameron LNG Export Facility in Louisiana. Not only have thousands of JOBS been created in USA, we’re shipping freedom and opportunity abroad!SIGNIFICANT TWEETS AND NEWS:Elon Musk Schools Fake News MediaDaily Beast Says Facebook Helped Them Dox Trump Supporter | BreitbartFAKE NEWS - Look how they subtly try to manipulate the way you think .Fucking bitch says Dems need to take "kill shot" on Trump, then acts like she didn't realize what she was saying. ABC leaves it in show. DECLAS is about to expose her traitor dad. Lock them all the fuck up.🐸 TOP SPICE OF THE DAY 🐸:Message straight from the White HouseLast time I posted this it caused a massive triggering, and we were invaded, and it was eventually downvoted to 0 from 300. Round 2, let's do this."Progress" in Europe👌🏻Tim pool vs msmMonday, June 3rd:TODAY'S ACTION:President Donald J. Trump Announces Intent to Nominate Individual to a Key Administration Post🔥🔥TRUMP TWEETS🔥🔥:.@SadiqKhan, who by all accounts has done a terrible job as Mayor of London, has been foolishly “nasty” to the visiting President of the United States, by far the most important ally of the United Kingdom. He is a stone cold loser who should focus on crime in London, not me...... ... ....Kahn reminds me very much of our very dumb and incompetent Mayor of NYC, de Blasio, who has also done a terrible job - only half his height. In any event, I look forward to being a great friend to the United Kingdom, and am looking very much forward to my visit. Landing now!Thank you! 🇺🇸🇬🇧China is subsidizing its product in order that it can continue to be sold in the USA. Many firms are leaving China for other countries, including the United States, in order to avoid paying the Tariffs. No visible increase in costs or inflation, but U.S. is taking Billions!Just arrived in the United Kingdom. The only problem is that @CNN is the primary source of news available from the U.S. After watching it for a short while, I turned it off. All negative & so much Fake News, very bad for U.S. Big ratings drop. Why doesn’t owner @ATT do something?I believe that if people stoped using or subscribing to @ATT, they would be forced to make big changes at @CNN, which is dying in the ratings anyway. It is so unfair with such bad, Fake News! Why wouldn’t they act. When the World watches @CNN, it gets a false picture of USA. Sad!London part of trip is going really well. The Queen and the entire Royal family have been fantastic. The relationship with the United Kingdom is very strong. Tremendous crowds of well wishers and people that love our Country. Haven’t seen any protests yet, but I’m sure the.... ... ....Fake News will be working hard to find them. Great love all around. Also, big Trade Deal is possible once U.K. gets rid of the shackles. Already starting to talk!Russia has informed us that they have removed most of their people from Venezuela.As a sign of good faith, Mexico should immediately stop the flow of people and drugs through their country and to our Southern Border. They can do it if they want!SIGNIFICANT TWEETS AND NEWS:Now THAT is a FLOTUS.CNN is one giant meme...Facts You Won't See on CNNJudge tosses House Dems' lawsuit over Trump's use of emergency military funds for border wallBREAKING: California state bar moves to suspend Avenatti's law license, saying he poses 'substantial threat of harm to clients or the public'The Democrats Don't Even Try to Hide it, They HATE America🐸 TOP SPICE OF THE DAY 🐸:The Trump balloon surveys the carnage that is part and parcel of daily life in Sadiq Khan's LondonHow Her Majesty looks at Meghan Markle vs how she looks at President Trump.POTUS Keepin' an Eye on Fake News while Peepin' the Queen's TrinketsThe floor is the FALSE SONG OF GLOBALISMTuesday, June 4th:TODAY'S ACTION:President Donald J. Trump Announces Intent to Nominate Individual to a Key Administration PostPresident Trump and First Lady Melania Trump's Visit to the United Kingdom - Day 1President Trump Participates in a Press Conference with the Prime Minister of UK & Northern IrelandPresident Trump Participates in a Business Roundtable🔥🔥TRUMP TWEETS🔥🔥:#USStateVisit🇺🇸🇬🇧President Trump Participates in a Press Conference with the Prime Minister of UK & Northern IrelandThank you @Theresa_May!🇺🇸🇬🇧Can you imagine Cryin’ Chuck Schumer saying out loud, for all to hear, that I am bluffing with respect to putting Tariffs on Mexico. What a Creep. He would rather have our Country fail with drugs & Immigration than give Republicans a win. But he gave Mexico bad advice, no bluff!Washed up psycho @BetteMidler was forced to apologize for a statement she attributed to me that turned out to be totally fabricated by her in order to make “your great president” look really bad. She got caught, just like the Fake News Media gets caught. A sick scammer!#USStateVisit🇺🇸🇬🇧Plagiarism charge against Sleepy Joe Biden on his ridiculous Climate Change Plan is a big problem, but the Corrupt Media will save him. His other problem is that he is drawing flies, not people, to his Rallies. Nobody is showing up, I mean nobody. You can’t win without people!I kept hearing that there would be “massive” rallies against me in the UK, but it was quite the opposite. The big crowds, which the Corrupt Media hates to show, were those that gathered in support of the USA and me. They were big & enthusiastic as opposed to the organized flops!Just had a big victory in Federal Court over the Democrats in the House on the desperately needed Border Wall. A big step in the right direction. Wall is under construction!SIGNIFICANT TWEETS AND NEWS:Never forget what they did to this family, as they will most assuredly do the same to yours.'Coward of Broward' police deputy arrested for inaction during Parkland mass shootingICE planning large-scale deportations that 'will include families'BBC and uk politicians heads explode in- 3-2-1 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 link in commentsTrump destroys Sadiq Khan - Mayor of London 🔴 Press Conference🐸 TOP SPICE OF THE DAY 🐸:MAGA 2020Yes, we do lay out a red carpet for our favourite world leader and no, liberals you can’t stop us!Absolute truthBeef Status : RoastedThen I said... "Because You'd be in Jail"Wednesday, June 5th:TODAY'S ACTION:Three Nominations and One Withdrawal Sent to the SenatePresident Trump Participates in a Bilateral Meeting with the Prime Minister of Ireland🔥🔥TRUMP TWEETS🔥🔥:.@FLOTUS Melania and I send our deepest condolences to President Reuven Rivlin and the entire State of Israel upon the passing of Mrs. Nechama Rivlin. Mrs. Rivlin represented her beloved country with grace and stature. We will miss her along with all those who knew her.Could not have been treated more warmly in the United Kingdom by the Royal Family or the people. Our relationship has never been better, and I see a very big Trade Deal down the road. “This trip has been an incredible success for the President.” @IngrahamAngleHouse Democrats, fresh off a Republican victory against them (in Federal Court) on the Wall, keep asking people to come and testify regarding the No Collusion Witch Hunt. They are very unhappy with the Mueller Report, especially with his corrective letter, & now want a Do Over!If the totally Corrupt Media was less corrupt, I would be up by 15 points in the polls based on our tremendous success with the economy, maybe Best Ever! If the Corrupt Media was actually fair, I would be up by 25 points. Nevertheless, despite the Fake News, we’re doing great!“House Republicans support the President on Tariffs with Mexico all the way, & that makes any measure the President takes on the Border totally Veto proof. Why wouldn’t you as Republicans support him when that will allow our President to make a better deal.” Thank you @GOPLeaderAs we approach the 75th Anniversary of D-Day, we proudly commemorate those heroic and honorable patriots who gave their all for the cause of freedom during some of history’s darkest hours. #DDay75Immigration discussions at the White House with representatives of Mexico have ended for the day. Progress is being made, but not nearly enough! Border arrests for May are at 133,000 because of Mexico & the Democrats in Congress refusing to budge on immigration reform. Further... ... ....talks with Mexico will resume tomorrow with the understanding that, if no agreement is reached, Tariffs at the 5% level will begin on Monday, with monthly increases as per schedule. The higher the Tariffs go, the higher the number of companies that will move back to the USA!#DDay75thAnniversary #DDay75“The President has received glowing reviews from the British Media. Here at home, not so much. MSNBC Ramps up hateful coverage and promotes conspiracy theories during Trump’s trip to Europe.” @seanhannity The good news is that @maddow is dying in the ratings, along with @CNN!A big and beautiful day today!Heading over to Normandy to celebrate some of the bravest that ever lived. We are eternally grateful! #DDay75thAnniversary #DDay75SIGNIFICANT TWEETS AND NEWS:Just Donald Trump wearing Winston Churchill's bowler hatPOTUS showed his dominance over the rest of the world leaders.Youtube has banned a respected history channel for "hate speech." Thanks, Vox.Guilty until proven innocent for the SamaritansWINNING: Judge approves more than $6 billion in border wall funding🐸 TOP SPICE OF THE DAY 🐸:CelebrateOuchDon't Hate the StraightA baconator is in orderThe GEOTUS finger pointThursday, June 6th:TODAY'S ACTION:Proclamation on National Day of Remembrance of the 75th Anniversary of D-DayPresident Trump Delivers Departure RemarksPresident Trump and The First Lady Participate in the 75th Commemoration of D-DayPresident Trump Participates in a Bilateral Meeting with the President of the French Republic🔥🔥TRUMP TWEETS🔥🔥:#DDay75thAnniversarySo sorry to hear about the terrible accident involving our GREAT West Point Cadets. We mourn the loss of life and pray for the injured. God Bless them ALL!Today, we remember those who fell, and we honor all who fought, here in Normandy. They won back this ground for civilization. To more than 170 Veterans of the Second World War who join us today: You are among the very greatest Americans who will ever live! #DDay75thAnniversaryTo the men who sit behind me, and to the boys who rest in the field before me: your example will never grow old. Your legend will never tire, and your spirit - brave, unyielding, and true - will NEVER DIE! #DDay75thAnniversaryJust signed Disaster Aid Bill to help Americans who have been hit by recent catastrophic storms. So important for our GREAT American farmers and ranchers. Help for GA, FL, IA, NE, NC, and CA. Puerto Rico should love President Trump. Without me, they would have been shut out!#DDay75thAnniversaryJohn Solomon: Factual errors and major omissions in the Mueller Report show that it is totally biased against Trump.“Mueller’s report was pure, political garbage!” @SeanHannity#DDay75thAnniversary #DDay75SIGNIFICANT TWEETS AND NEWS:President Trump hugging Russell Pickett, 94, the last survivor of Company A whose young men led the Omaha Beach charge on D-Day. Private Pickett was just 19 years old; 96% of A Company suffered casualties within the first 30-45 minutes.We had our heads chopped off by a blunt knife screaming for our mommies and reddit scrubbed every mention of our story because they are globalist muslim shillsTrump Administration and Taiwan announce $2+ Billion deal for Taiwan to purchase over 100 M1A2 tanks, 1600+ Javelin & TOW anti-tank missiles and 250 stinger missiles. MSM frets about “angering” an increasingly aggressive ChinaOur President over in France taking time to shake every WW2 veterans in attendance hand and they love him and MelaniaCall to action: time to report vox for violations of TOS on YouTube!🐸 TOP SPICE OF THE DAY 🐸:VOX burn booksSaw this hilarious sign and knew exactly where to post.Jihad Barbie has a tax problem.My nephew is in the ROTC group presenting the VP Pence with the flag in full WWII Uniform!! So damn proud 🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸Friday, June 7th:TODAY'S ACTION:Proclamation on Flag Day and National Flag Week, 2019🔥🔥TRUMP TWEETS🔥🔥:VideoVideoHAPPY BIRTHDAY to our great @VP Mike Pence!China is subsidizing its product in order that it can continue to be sold in the USA. Many firms are leaving China for other countries, including the United States, in order to avoid paying the Tariffs. No visible increase in costs or inflation, but U.S. is taking in Billions!Nervous Nancy Pelosi is a disgrace to herself and her family for having made such a disgusting statement, especially since I was with foreign leaders overseas. There is no evidence for such a thing to have been said. Nervous Nancy & Dems are getting Zero work done in Congress.... ... ...and have no intention of doing anything other than going on a fishing expedition to see if they can find anything on me - both illegal & unprecedented in U.S. history. There was no Collusion - Investigate the Investigators! Go to work on Drug Price Reductions & Infrastructure!If we are able to make the deal with Mexico, & there is a good chance that we will, they will begin purchasing Farm & Agricultural products at very high levels, starting immediately. If we are unable to make the deal, Mexico will begin paying Tariffs at the 5% level on Monday!Democrats are incapable of doing a good and solid Immigration Bill!For all of the money we are spending, NASA should NOT be talking about going to the Moon - We did that 50 years ago. They should be focused on the much bigger things we are doing, including Mars (of which the Moon is a part), Defense and Science!Heading back to D.C. Many great things are happening for our Country!Dow Jones has best week of the year!I am pleased to inform you that The United States of America has reached a signed agreement with Mexico. The Tariffs scheduled to be implemented by the U.S. on Monday, against Mexico, are hereby indefinitely suspended. Mexico, in turn, has agreed to take strong measures to.... ... ....stem the tide of Migration through Mexico, and to our Southern Border. This is being done to greatly reduce, or eliminate, Illegal Immigration coming from Mexico and into the United States. Details of the agreement will be released shortly by the State Department. Thank you!SIGNIFICANT TWEETS AND NEWS:MN investigation shows Rep. Omar filed EIGHT YEARS of false tax returns[Timeline] Spygate - or how the US intelligence tried to depose a duly elected presidentFBI Vault released Part 33 of their Hillary "She belongs in Jail" Clinton investigation.BREAKING: State Department releases the following statement outlining the agreement between the U.S. and MexicoJudicial Watch: FBI Docs Show Notes about Meeting with Intelligence Community Inspector General about Clinton Emails are ‘Missing’ and CD Containing Notes Is Likely ‘Damaged’ Irreparably - Judicial Watch🐸 TOP SPICE OF THE DAY 🐸:Nervous Nancy (D)Sand from Omaha Beach is used to make the names on white crosses more visibleBIDEN THE BITCH...can be swayed to change his opinion by ALYSSA MILANO....😂😂😂😂. What a pussy. Maybe he’ll flip on the HYDE ruling again tomorrow. 👌🏻POTUS and FLOTUSThese young women admiring POTUS. 2020 is in the bag folks!🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸Saturday, June 8th:🔥🔥TRUMP TWEETS🔥🔥:While the reviews and reporting on our Border Immigration Agreement with Mexico have been very good, there has nevertheless been much false reporting (surprise!) by the Fake and Corrupt News Media, such as Comcast/NBC, CNN, @nytimes & @washingtonpost. These “Fakers” are Bad News!Brandon Judd, National Border Patrol Council: “That’s going to be a huge deal because Mexico will be using their strong Immigration Laws - A game changer. People no longer will be released into the U.S.” Also, 6000 Mexican Troops at their Southern Border. Currently there are few!Mexico will try very hard, and if they do that, this will be a very successful agreement for both the United States and Mexico!MEXICO HAS AGREED TO IMMEDIATELY BEGIN BUYING LARGE QUANTITIES OF AGRICULTURAL PRODUCT FROM OUR GREAT PATRIOT FARMERS!Nervous Nancy Pelosi & the Democrat House are getting nothing done. Perhaps they could lead the way with the USMCA, the spectacular & very popular new Trade Deal that replaces NAFTA, the worst Trade Deal in the history of the U.S.A. Great for our Farmers, Manufacturers & Unions!Everyone very excited about the new deal with Mexico!I would like to thank the President of Mexico, Andres Manuel Lopez Obrador, and his foreign minister, Marcelo Ebrard, together with all of the many representatives of both the United States and Mexico, for working so long and hard to get our agreement on immigration completed!SIGNIFICANT TWEETS AND NEWS:Ted Cruz with the reckoning—This will not end well.Mueller put the public at risk through NaderHUGE: @RealDonaldTrump Takes Border Crisis Head On; Bruce Ohr Gets $28k Bonus in Middle of Spygate Abuses; Muller Report Fails; And More Clinton Email Docs Go Missing. Massive Judicial Watch Update!Trump Deal with Mexico Likely Ends Catch-and-Release, Defunds Cartels🐸 TOP SPICE OF THE DAY 🐸:When you don’t understand how President Trump negotiated a successful Mexico border deal without sending pallets of cashFinally found the Bolsonaro vs. the Commie Reaper meme I’ve been looking for since last year.Gillette be like:WEEEW LAD!Without further ado, some tunes to get you jamming through all this winning:LightTrue FeelingSwing TreeWait A Minute!Chasing ColorsMAGA ON PATRIOTS! #robgray

[clusterassets]

New world news from Time: Why Love Island Is the Defining Show of Summer 2018

On Tuesday morning, hundreds of thousands of Brits picked up their smartphones and quietly uninstalled the Love Island app. Another year until our screens are dominated once more by young people trying to find love and fame on the sunny island of Majorca; another year until the country collectively expands its vocabulary again to include terms like “muggy” and an “absolute sort;” another year until British commentators lose sleep over whether the unlikely success of Love Island signals the total breakdown of society.

“It’s the best trash TV going,” says Francesca Thornton, 25, an associate consultant living in London. “If you don’t watch it, you may as well hibernate for eight weeks while everyone else talks about it.” Even the Conservative Party tried to capitalize on the show’s success with an unsuccessful attempt to attract younger voters by producing “Love Island water bottles” in the style of those carried by contestants, except with slogans like “Don’t let [Jeremy] Corbyn mug you off.”

The premise of Love Island is simple. A group of attractive 20-somethings are made to couple up and share a bed—regardless of whether they have a romantic connection—in a villa on the Spanish island of Majorca. New cast members and challenges are introduced to make things difficult and they are made to recouple. At the end, the most popular couple wins £50,000 ($66,000), and contestants who stay the longest will become minor celebrities who go on to endorse detox teas and charcoal-activated toothpaste on Instagram.

Like the World Cup, Love Island became a daily fixture for many Brits this summer, airing for an hour six nights a week. Although the contestants have some say—if they don’t recouple with someone, they risk being sent home—the public ultimately decides on the winning pair and can vote using the show’s app.

After four seasons Love Island has firmly established itself as a cultural phenomenon while breaking records for broadcaster ITV2. On Monday night, 3.6 million Brits tuned into the finale of the fourth season, making it the most watched program in its slot across all channels, and the most watched program for 16-34s. (The first three seasons are now available on Hulu in the U.S. too.) The show regularly trends on Twitter, particularly viral moments like model Hayley Hughes not knowing what Brexit is and the endless debate over Georgia Steel’s kiss with Jack Fowler. This year’s winning couple, Jack Fincham and Dani Dyer, have already been approached for a spinoff reality TV show.

Much to my surprise, I’ve become one of Love Island’s 3 million viewers this year, despite watching a few episodes in 2016 and in 2017 and failing to get hooked. I don’t watch the Great British Bake Off, or Doctor Who, or the World Cup; I don’t even own a television. But halfway through this season, I started watching Love Island and all of a sudden, I know what it means to have your head turned and understand why everyone keeps shouting “I’m loyal, babe.” While my brain is filled with rational critiques of Love Island—its lack of diversity, both in terms of race and body type, and its heteronormativity—I can’t help but find it fascinating.

“I like it because I like being part of the national conversation,” says one high school friend, who got me into the show this year. And Love Island has regularly sparked bigger conversations about gender politics and race. There’s Black Twitter blaming Fiat 500 Twitter (defined by UrbanDictionary as “Basic British white girls on Twitter that post about hangovers, boys, food, tango ice blasts, and generic life advice”) for voting in white contestants over black ones. My friends and I have had genuinely interesting conversations about the misogyny of so-called “nice guys” (including Dr. Alex George becoming an icon for incels), about the slut-shaming of Megan Barton-Hanson, about Adam Collard being accused of gaslighting by a domestic abuse charity and about the erasure of Samira Mighty’s romantic relationship—the only black woman on the show, who was last to be picked to be in a couple.

I polled other friends and acquaintances to find out how they felt about the show. “I love that the premise is so ridiculous—to fall in love with one of maybe 15 possible partners within two months, and yet so many of the contestants seem genuinely committed to it,” Florence Avery, 26, says. It’s not just women watching it either. Preparing for Monday night’s finale with a dozen other 20-somethings at an apartment in London, Nick Porter tells me that it’s fun to see people be so emotionally vulnerable “from the comfort of your own sofa.”

TIME’s cover story on the rise of “voyeur television” back in 2000 summarized this raw appeal of reality TV. “Through a sudden explosion of new-wave voyeur shows, ordinary people are becoming our new celebrities,” James Poniewozick wrote. “The price: living in front of cameras that catch their every tantrum, embarrassment and moral lapse.”

Love Island is no different, and so can be the source of controversy. Certain commentators have focused on the fact that, in the words TV presenter Giles Coren, the show stars “brainless young boys and girls from the lowest reaches of the underclass,” trotted out for “the amusement of the chattering classes.” (I personally like Love Island even more because Giles Coren—a man who does not see the irony in calling a show “lowbrow, intellectually apocalyptic megasexist bullshit” in the same breath as dismissing the women on it as “vomitous filth in bikinis and high heels”—despises it so much.)

I do know a few people who claim to watch the show semi-ironically, as a kind of sociological experiment. Several others tell me they enjoy Love Island because it’s mindless television that helps them switch off after work. But Hannah Allies, who was there to introduce me to Love Island that fateful day a month ago, offers another explanation for why Love Island has gripped the nation. “People say it’s all about escapism and needing to switch off because of Brexit and everything,” she says. “But it’s not mindless. It’s a microcosm of society.”

That might explain why millions of people have watched over 50 hours of Love Island this summer alone. “It’s like an eight-year relationship in the space of eight weeks,” my friend Kate Griffin, an actor, tells me. “It’s primal: people are always in such close contact that they’re triggered by everything. Everyone’s emotions are on the surface, and because emotions are irrational, you don’t know what’s going to happen next.” Other friends comment on just how much you learn by watching other people’s romantic foibles play out under a microscope and then be analyzed by everyone.

But there’s another reason I watch: after years of being a heartless cynic, something happened to me on May 19—the day Meghan Markle walked down the aisle to meet Prince Harry and apparently brainwashed me in the process. Despite being someone who doesn’t really believe in the institution of marriage—let alone the monarchy—I am also now the kind of person who repeatedly watches clips of Harry stroking Meghan’s thumb and telling her she looks amazing. Ever since then, there has been a hole in my life that only Love Island has filled.

Just a few days before the finale, I was gently informed that people go on the show to get famous, not to fall in love. The longer they stay in the villa, the more famous they will be—and they can only stay if they are coupled up.

I know all this to be true, the same way I know lie detectors are not exactly accurate, and yet for some reason the show has me convinced that it’s possible to fall in love in eight weeks. I can’t be totally wrong: thanks to Love Island, three former couples are engaged to be married and two babies have been born. Last night, millions of Brits watched the final four couples make heartfelt speeches. Maybe they were scripted declarations of love, but watching Wes Nelson choke up as he told Megan Barton-Hanson “it’s been amazing to see you grow as a person…I’m madly in love with you and I’m falling even deeper every day,” I found myself whispering “you can’t fake these kinds of feelings.”

My friend Beth Mathias, probably the only person I know less likely than me to be a Love Island fan, sums up the show’s popularity—at least for me. “I love Love Island because I love love.” For some reason, this year I can’t help but agree.

July 31, 2018 at 10:28PM ClusterAssets Inc., https://ClusterAssets.wordpress.com

[newstfionline]

What’s a Trump hug really worth?

By Rick Noack, Washington Post, June 1, 2018

When Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau and French President Emmanuel Macron met with President Trump in recent months, both hugged the president a lot, as if to demonstrate: We get along really, really well, no matter what.

Of course, both had few illusions about their newly found friend, but amid a global hunt for a working strategy in dealing with Trump, the “bromance” or “worst best friends” approach seemed worth a shot.

It’s fair to say now that the strategy has failed.

Since his state visit to Washington, Macron has warned twice that Trump’s moves could result in war: first, when Trump withdrew from the Iran deal, and again Thursday after the president imposed tariffs on close U.S. allies, including France. (The visit was only 37 days ago.) Trudeau, meanwhile, declared a “war on the American gherkin” Thursday, referring to pickles, and other products, in response to the same tariffs.

Both Macron and Trudeau voiced especially harsh criticism of Trump on Thursday, even while other leaders who have been more at odds with Trump remained somewhat less vocal. Both German Chancellor Angela Merkel and British Prime Minister Theresa May sent representatives to condemn the tariffs rather than make a personal statement.

Meanwhile, Macron ominously warned that “economic nationalism leads to war. This is exactly what happened in the 1930s.” His World War II reference could hardly have been less veiled. Trudeau similarly referred to dark times in history in his response, saying: “These tariffs are an affront to the long-standing security partnership between Canada and the United States, and in particular, to the thousands of Canadians who have fought and died alongside American comrades-in-arms.”

Macron and Trudeau’s harsh attacks after trying to play nice are not entirely unexpected, especially after Trump had ignored European advice and recently acknowledged what he thinks diplomacy is all about: “Everybody plays games,” the president said after canceling the summit with Kim Jong Un this month. (He later indicated that it might take place anyway.)

In Europe and among other U.S. allies, the double defeat of Macron on Iran and trade tariffs is resulting in even more uncertainty about how to approach the president. Is now the time to stop playing nice for real?

In interviews since Macron’s and Merkel’s respective D.C. visits, European officials have indicated that this may be the next strategy that’s up for debate.

At a summit in mid-May, European Council President Donald Tusk lashed out at Trump over his policies regarding Iran, Gaza, trade tariffs and North Korea.

“Looking at the latest decisions of Donald Trump, someone could even think: With friends like that, who needs enemies?” Tusk said “But frankly speaking, Europe should be grateful to President Trump. Because, thanks to him, we got rid of all the illusions. He has made us realize that if you need a helping hand, you will find one at the end of your arm.”

While European leaders have repeatedly stressed the need to become more self-reliant, it’s unclear to what lengths the continent is willing to go to confront Trump.

“Of course, one could say, ‘Okay, to avoid further damage we’ll accept those tariffs (without retaliating),’ but even that is risky because nobody knows whether that would be sufficient for Trump,” said Peter Beyer, coordinator of transatlantic relations for Merkel’s conservative party.

“We’re not used to his style, his language or his way of pressuring people. I’m opposed to that. It damages our transatlantic relationship of trust, but it’s real politics,” Beyer said.

The reality in this case is that Europe and Canada need the United States a whole lot. But the question after a year of frustration is now increasingly: How much--and for how long--do they still need Trump?

Trudeau already appears to be preparing for a time after him. “This is not about the American people,” he tweeted Thursday. “We have to believe that at some point their common sense will prevail. But we see no sign of that in this action today by the US administration.”

[confessionxblog]

I am so unbearably jealous and hurt and upset about this situation and I need to vent. I used to have 2 really close friends at school. One was my freshman year roommate and one was a friend I met through my program; I think I introduced them. The 3 of us were always together, always messaging each other, always involved in each other's lives, planning trips, going out, staying in, laughing, crying - everything. My freshman year roommate, C, is still pretty much my closest friend. I know we've got each other's backs, I can trust her with anything, and I know she knows that, too. I'm not worried about our relationship. We're good. But in the past few semesters, I've had a falling out with L. It happened gradually. It started when she signed up to work at my workplace without asking me first - which, okay. I can get over that. Most of my initial anger at that was just a weird, childish feeling of "no, that's MINE." But I kept thinking about it, and even outside of my selfish reasons for not wanting her there, I had legitimate concerns. She tends to put a lot on her plate and then crack under the pressure, and this job requires a good amount of focus, planning, TIME, and emotional labor - I worried she'd either break down about it OR put it on the back burner because it's not a priority for her. I love my job, and I knew i'd feel hurt if she didn't make it a priority, ESPECIALLY if she wanted to talk to me about it. I worried I'd have to comfort her for not liking a job that I absolutely love. I worried she'd want my advice all the time, or worse - I worried she'd refuse to take any advice and dismiss my experience. I convinced myself I was being silly, that my concerns were unfounded, but within a month or two, ALL of those things happened. She talked about how she wouldn't do the job if it weren't for the good paycheck, and scoffed at me when I told her it meant a lot more to me than that. She came crying to me when she thought she wasn't good at the job, and didn't speak to me for days when I told her that there's always a learning curve and that she needed to work at it if she wanted to improve. She dismissed advice I gave her about scheduling with a "no offense, but forgive me if I don't listen to YOU because..." It was humiliating and I was angry. She'd also act like an expert when someone asked about our work, never mind that she'd only been there for less than a few months and still talked all the time about how she hadn't settled in to it yet. Anyway. The job thing was really only the tip of the iceberg. L thinks of herself as a Great Ally - someone who's always there to listen and learn and admit their fuckups - and that's true, to some extent. She's happy to learn and be a listening ear in terms of greater communities + institutional/social marginalization, and I'm glad. I admire her for that. But she does NOT do that when it's personal, when it's with people close to her, when it affects her directly. If a friend - me, C, or anyone else - tells her that she's made a mistake or done something to hurt us, her immediate reaction is to cry and make it about her. I was angry at her once because I felt like she was cutting me off socially on a trip where I was trying to meet people, so I was trying to keep quiet and keep my distance while I calmed down (hard to do, since we shared a hotel room). She could tell that I was upset, and she burst into tears and kept talking about how she didn't want to ruin my night and how she felt like such a horrible friend, and it got to the point where I ended having to comfort HER even though I was angry. It's not that I wanted her to feel sad, or that I didn't want her to express how she felt, but this is a trend with her - I feel like I'm not allowed to have any kind of emotions or to ever be upset with her in any way, because she reacts by making it about how performatively upset she is. This is ALL THE TIME. "L, I was hurt when you left me out of x." "IM SO SORRY I AM SO AWFUL I UNDERSTAND IF YOU HATE ME" "L, thank you for trying to check up on me, but you're not being helpful right now, please give me space." "OH NO IM SORRY I KNEW THAT I KNOW YOU COPE WITH THINGS DIFFERENTLY AND I SHOULD HAVE JUST LEFT YOU ALONE I'LL SHUT UP NOW YOU SHOULD HATE ME" and in all of these situations, I end up rubbing her back and telling her it's ok and i don't hate her etc. etc. which is all true - I DON'T hate her - but it ends up minimizing the actual problem and turning it into Comfort L Time. And always, ALWAYS, when the comforting is over and she's calm again, she stops being willing to admit to whatever she did, and starts to play it off as "a big misunderstanding" where "everyone overreacted" and "haha but it didn't matter and we're all good now!" Where in my head, I'm saying ".....no, it wasn't a misunderstanding, no, I didn't overreact, no, we're not 'all good' if you're going to pretend you were never at fault." We've been drifting apart for months. I don't want to pretend that she's the only guilty party; I'm sure I've made mistakes, too, but I have absolutely no idea what I did. If L asks me if I'm upset or if she did anything, I'll pretty much always address why I'm hurting (if that's happening) and what I need. If I ask L if she's upset or if I did anything, she'll say some variation of "what? no! we're fine! you're great! lol" and then go to someone else - usually C - upset about how she and I don't get along anymore or there's "tension," but will absolutely never address anything with ME. back to C. Remember how I introduced L and C? I'm glad they're friends. I was glad when we were all friends! We planned a camping trip last fall together at a beach I'd never been to before, and most of the planning was "omg, she hasn't seen this, let's show her x!" It was silly and fun and I was really excited. We didn't end up being able to go - hurricane season hit - but we decided on a rain check. Well, when spring break was rolling around, L was telling me that she and C had been talking about revisiting the beach plans, and that she "wished I could come" but "knew I'd be busy." When I told her that I actually had a lot of free time that week, she was suddenly dodgy about the whole thing, saying "well, who knows if it'll work out," etc. It was blatantly obvious that she didn't want me there. She wanted to take our planned trip with C, without me. I asked C about it and she told me "no... I definitely told L you'd be free... that's why I was pushing for later in the week when you'd be here, but she kept trying to move it earlier while you were gonna be out of town..." So. It definitely wasn't in my head. She DEFINITELY didn't want me to come, and she also lied to C about it - when C confronted her, L claimed she'd never mentioned the trip to me. Ever since then, I feel like L is trying to "take" C from me. I know C is a person and she doesn't belong to any of us, but she and I are really close, and I hate feeling like someone is trying to keep us from spending time together. I would never try to make her choose between me and L; I know she loves both of us and wants to spend time with both of us, and that isn't a problem. But I know for a fact that L doesn't like it when C spends time with me. According to C, if I'm even brought up in conversation, L's attitude changes and she doesn't want to hear anything at all about things that C and I did together. She's also said a bunch of things to C about how she loves being close to her, and keeps guilt-tripping her and saying how she doesn't feel important or special or like a "priority" and it FEELS like she's trying to get C to ALWAYS put her first, ALWAYS hang out with her more, forget about her other friends because she wants to be The Best Friend. And it SUCKS! I know C can make her own choices, but she's uncomfortable, too. She feels isolated. She feels like L doesn't want to share her and it makes her feel cut off from everyone. I'm hurt by it, too, obviously. I see the thousand pictures L posts with C and I know it's irrational, but in my head, I've worked myself up enough to tell myself she's gloating/throwing it in my face. I haven't spent a lot of time with C recently because I've been in and out of town, and L knows that, and with her posting a bunch of pictures, talking/posting all the time about how much fun they're having and how close they are, and even changing her profile picture to a phot with C in it... I don't know. I think I'm just being bitter and overreacting at this point and imagining intentions that aren't there, but when my feelings are hurt, all of it FEELS like she wants me to see that they're closer now. They actually did end up going to that beach without me. C apologized and planned to take me there another time; L never mentioned it to me at all and posted a bunch of pictures from the trip documenting how amazing it was and how much fun they had together. I guess she got what she wanted, but like... fuck. The jealousy I'm feeling is irrational because I know my friendship with C is solid, and good, and healthy, and no one can really threaten that. So, I'm trying to get over the jealousy. I know it's dumb. But the anger? The anger is real. And I feel like the hurt - at least most of it - is justified. I don't know what to do. I just needed to rant.

[symbianosgames]

The following blog post, unless otherwise noted, was written by a member of Gamasutra’s community. The thoughts and opinions expressed are those of the writer and not Gamasutra or its parent company.

TL;DR: At the bottom.

I'm Jeffrey Nielson. I’m an independent developer coming from a game artist background, who recently started working solo. Now, I'm in the late stages of finishing my second self-directed project, Nova Drift. I'm no expert, but I've had some success, so I want to share some of what I've learned for aspiring small / solo developers, clear up some misconceptions, and also talk about how I got here and what I'm working on now.

Disclaimer:

There are many strategies and approaches to game development. This one is just mine. Also, when I say that solo game development is "working for me", I don't have nearly enough data to know that it will continue to work for me. Having said that, I can say that based on my checkered career, there isn't really a particularly stable place to be in games. Anyone can bomb, and even huge, successful game corporations can lay you off without warning. Because of this, you might as well be doing what you love, whatever that is. In any case, I hope that some of the lessons I've learned benefit you.

(Skip it if you like!)

I started playing around with pixel art in MS paint when I was around 10 years old, mimicking the art style from Genesis JRPGs I loved. At 15, I joined my cousins and their programmer friend who were making a ridiculous shooter-platformer called "Worminator" I'm still amazed we were somehow able to create and distribute (for free) a finished game at this age, given how quickly random collabs tend to go sour as adults. They would later create the sequel, Worminator 3 (yes, they skipped 2, it was that good) I played around with RPG Maker, and later discovered Game Maker. After college, where I studied art & design, I worked for a few game companies creating art and animation in a wide range of styles. I met PixelJam Games during this time, after sending them fan art for one of my favorite indie games. To my great surprise, they offered me contract work as a side job. They would later become my foot in the door to independent game development. Meanwhile, my primary employer's company was bought by Facebook game giant Zynga, and I was swept up along with it. Despite having less-than-no interest in those types of games, I decided to go with it and see what it would do for my career. It ended up being incredibly valuable. I learned from talented and brilliant people, became a far better artist, and most importantly, figured out what I wanted out of life.

Gear Shift

My greatest revelation was that I never truly wanted to be an artist. I didn't carry sketchbooks like the others, practice, or show off personal works. I wrote down ideas and made little games. Art turned out to be a means to an end: to create games. I never considered learning to program because I had been encouraged to be an artist all of my life. I had assumed it was my only entry point to the video game industry... and programming seemed incredibly inaccessible. Once I knew I wanted to be more than a small cog in the machine, I had to try. So, after two years, I put in my resignation. I worked with PixelJam for a few years on many small projects, benefiting greatly from their years of experience both thriving and struggling in the industry. I continued to practice coding with GameMaker, until one day Miles Tilmann of PixelJam suggested I try my hand at it full time for one of their clients. Unsure of myself, I reluctantly accepted.

Last Horizon & Nova Drift

The game was a gravity-based "planet lander" game titled Last Horizon. I drafted a design for the game and got to work prototyping it. Rich Grillotti, PixelJam artist, handled the artwork. For the first time, I had nothing to do with the visuals of a game! The game was meant to be a small browser game, but we soon recognized its potential, and it ballooned into a year long desktop & mobile project. It was really difficult. I had to solve a lot of problems I'd never encountered before, and lost faith a few times. However, to our surprise, the game was a hit on mobile! With the revenue split only four ways, we did alright. I started to wonder just how small a team I could manage. An earlier project of mine, Nova Drift, still interested me and I decided to make it my full time job & first solo endeavor, utilizing PixelJam as a publisher and hiring Miles for audio. Two years later, it’s nearly finished.

Be versatile, know your weaknesses.

The common advice I see given is to specialize in a field that can get you an entry level job, such as art, writing, or programming. This still makes sense, but if you want to work alone, you're going to need to be far more versatile. The trick is to practice by creating (just make something-- anything! As soon as possible!) and determine what your strengths and weaknesses are. Games encompass a huge number of specialized fields, and most people simply won't have time to excell in all of them. Once you know your weaknesses, you can design with these deficiencies in mind, or hire help to fill the gaps. In my case, I had a very strong art and animation background, and a fascination with design. By the end of Last Horizon, I was a pretty solid programmer-- but I'd never had a chance to learn about audio, marketing or production. Now that I'm self directed, those are the areas I contract out, or fill with partnerships. One more thing bears mentioning, and I might start some arguments here, but I believe it to be far easier to be an artist or musician who learns to program than the other way around. Most people can learn to program well enough to create a game in a few years, but developing the arts can take most of your life. My advice is start early, hire out, or both.

Don't underestimate what you can accomplish.

I put off learning to code in earnest for decades. I thought it was "for another kind of person". It’s not. It’s intimidating, but you can learn it piece by piece.

I recommend working for companies before going independent.

...Especially if you plan to work solo. This is for many reasons: First, there is an incredible amount to learn from the success and failure of other people. I can't overstate this: Failing a lot is really, really important. It's a lot better if they're failures you're witnessing, or at least still getting paid for, than failures that burn through your savings. Second, the contacts gained from doing so are too valuable to miss out on. You can benefit from these for the rest of your career. Moreover, working for companies hopefully provides you with a decent amount of startup capital so you don't have to rely on begging, borrowing, or crowdfunding (which is unreliable at best).

“The master has failed more times than the beginner has even tried.” - Stephen McCranie.

Networking and building contacts early will benefit you in the long term.

They’ll help you get eyes where you need them, cross-promote, and they may know how to solve problems you do not. I made quite a lot of mistakes in this regard. I resisted Twitter and Facebook networking for years, relying on my employers and producers for networking. I failed to direct thousands of DeviantArt followers to my social media for future endeavors. I waited way too long to create Reddit presence and credibility. I never blogged or wrote about what I was doing. Thanks to my producer, I’m OK, but had I done this we’d have two pools of resources to tap!

Beyond the internet, make as many meaningful connections as you can.

Attend conventions, talk to people, attend events, or work in shared dev spaces. Always remember to be polite, giving and gracious. People are far more likely to help you or care about what you're doing if you show genuine interest in them, too. Most of all, do not underestimate yourself or the strength of your passion. The most important contact I have ever made, PixelJam Games, was made by sending them fan art. This small gesture quite literally changed my life. I was hired, creatively galvanized, and relocated to a new state. There, I met my wife whom I’m now traveling the world with while making video games (she is an elementary school teacher, employed by an international school). PixelJam taught me most of what I know about running a business, empowered me to work solo, and continue to be my most valuable business allies and dear friends. I’m not saying that slinging fan art is going to get you your golden ticket, but don’t underestimate the power of a bold initiative and a little fearlessness.

“Luck Is What Happens When Preparation Meets Opportunity” - Seneca

Make things, whenever you have time.

Anything that aligns with your passion and your goals. In doing so, you can let your work do the talking for you while you're networking. I got my first game job by showing the art director a little pixel art shoot 'em up game I had created in GameMaker. He told me, "This is the most fun interview I’ve ever done". Even if your first creation is hot garbage, it shows great character to have finished the thing on your own impetus.

Write down all of your ideas, even the bad ones.

Scribbles, diagrams, ideas that are nothing more than titles, your spouse’s bad ideas, everything. Archive all of these, make a collection. You'll find uses for some of them later, and others will coalesce into a greater idea.

Rapid prototyping! Get your hands on it!

Prototype ideas often to find out what works and what doesn't. You really won't know until you get your hands on it in action. Game Maker Studio is an alternative to Unity, and a good tool for prototyping if you're still getting the hang of coding or come from an art background. In fact, I still use it for professional development today. If you have any doubts, look into the great games it’s produced. It’s also great for weekend game jams. (These are awesome for getting reinvigorated during long projects).

Better yet, get other people's hands on it.

When we design, we are sort of in a vacuum and take things for granted. Testers will reveal fundamental problems with your game very quickly that you didn't consider. It may not be easy, but I recommend keeping silent as they play and avoid helping. You won’t be there to help your players once the game is out. Recognize that these frustrations are places where the game fails to convey what is needed of the player. Keep notes. Do this early. Fundamental flaws are not something you want to discover at the 11th hour.

Above all, keep things simple.

The tradeoff for complete control is that you have to be incredibly conservative with scope and features due to lack of manpower. Because I'm designing and programming as well, I can't spend all day polishing a painterly masterpiece. Instead, I choose a simple and stylish aesthetic which allows me to rapidly create art and execute ideas. Undertale is a good example of this working well, as is Super Hexagon, Geometry Wars, and Spelunky.

Don’t make your “masterpiece” your first game!

You should try to keep your first few projects very, very small. Maybe even attempt the tiniest crash course to get all of the problems out of the way. What you do NOT want is to encounter every inevitable hang up and brick wall on your grandest, favorite idea, losing your valuable momentum. That game should be your third or fourth, maybe.

Plan, but not too much.

Nobody's estimates are accurate. Just know that it will take far, far longer than you expect it to. It's very easy for a 3 month game idea to turn into several years if you aren't careful. As you develop, you'll often find that your game starts to deviate from your original concept. This is fine; the game informs its own design. Where you need to be alarmed is when the game idea begins to proliferate, considerably larger than you had originally planned. This is called "feature creep", and depending on your restraint and financial situation, it can either bury a project or improve it. Plenty of people have written on this subject, so I'll keep it short: Decide how much you want to allow your project to grow over time, and be strict about it. One thing I do recommend planning for is systems you plan to port to. Look ahead of time at all of the requirements for getting on things like iOS and Android’s Google Play. Saying these platforms are fussy is… putting it mildly.

Don’t over do it.

Inevitably, as you develop, your skill as a programmer will grow immensely from sheer repetition and immersion. You may be faced with the urge to constantly correct mistakes, over-optimize, and even rip things apart and start over. I suggest not doing this. Instead, get it working well, but accept that your early work will inevitably be below your standards and look forward. Do it right in the next game. Unless it's ruining the performance of your game, that imperfect code won't make a huge difference and it's more valuable to complete the project, start building your audience, and begin earning revenue. Also, be careful not to overreact to feedback. Oftentimes, people know something feels off, but they give the wrong reason why. Trust your instincts and solve the problem the best way you know how.

Simple Ideas.

Did I mention to keep it simple? You should keep it simple. It probably won't work, but you can try, and each time you will get better at it.

Live cheap.

Unless you're very solvent to begin with, the full creative control that solo dev allows you comes with a heavy demand: live and work cheaply. I won't get into the basics such as housing, food, lifestyle, and material possessions, but of course these are important. The big one is staying small: by definition, employees and employers are out of the picture, but that doesn't mean you won't have partners, such as publishers, or work with contractors. In fact, I suggest you do, but keep it to the absolute minimum. I've seen many games (and studios!) wither and die because overzealous creators struck too many deals and split the pie too many different ways, beyond the game's capability to generate cash. Another way this happens is over promising during desperate Kickstarter campaigns. I'll go over this more, later. A big company wants to grow, you should want the opposite: become as lean as physically possible. In doing so you can be agile and focus on our strength: creating a uniquely cohesive product in the way only a lone visionary can. So, generally speaking, if you can do it yourself well, do it. However, be willing to pay generously to hire out work you can't do well. If you can't compose music or write, paying for that could make a huge difference in the reception of your game… and paying well for it means getting it done right, and quickly.

Be cautious about cutting people in.

...For reasons other than money, too. There are many ways people you don't know well can throw you a curve ball, or even kill your game. Look for and learn to read red flags. Ask yourself: Do they have a library of creations to verify their skill and follow-through? Are they earnest and forthright with you? Does it seem like they're trying to sell you something? Are they promising impossible or unlikely things? Is there anyone you trust to vouch for them? Have you protected yourself legally? Just... please be careful. Listen to your gut. I've seen a lot go wrong, and I’ve experienced it, too.

Consider working abroad.

I totally get that this isn’t an option for most people, but if you can manage it, it’s possible to have significantly lower living expenses and still earn globally. (I’m living in Thailand at the moment, where a fairly comfortable life is cheap). If you can’t do this, you don’t have to live in Palo Alto / Seattle / Austin...

Auxiliary Income

Crowdfunding: Use it, don’t need it. These are powerful tools that should be wielded with great care. Platforms like Kickstarter are wonderful, but they're often misused. People rely on it, get caught up in the hype, become desperate, and make too many promises. In the end, many cannot deliver, run out of money, or delay and delay until they’re vaporware. Bottom line: Definitely use it, but never need it. I personally won't ever create a kickstarter campaign until I know for certain I can deliver my product without it. It's great for having extra funds to survive the long stretch, maybe add some nice new features, but I firmly believe that if your game cannot survive without being crowdfunded, it should not be created in the first place. It's too great a risk, because we can never predict what won’t go as planned. The resulting time, morale, and energy sink from a failed campaign can be devastating, and a backed campaign that cannot follow through is even worse.

Backers can’t read your mind.

If you do run a campaign, consider the following: Take nothing for granted. Your game idea may be crystal clear in your head, but if a stranger watches the video and doesn't understand what the game is, they won't be backing it. Remember, you’ve been in a vacuum with the game for a long time. Everyone else has not. Make sure a lot of people see your trailer and provide critical feedback. Show it to hard-ass devs and ask them to be brutal. Show it to me. If you've planned properly, you've budgeted time to fix it.

Don't just prepare your kickstarter page, prepare the update material, too. Get an early start on screenshots, GIFs, press kits, social media, etc. This is all easier if you're fairly late in your game development and already have a lot of information and visuals to work with.

Above all, be honest and as transparent as possible with your backers. They will appreciate it, and it will generate faith in you. If they believe supporting you will reflect well on them, they will be far more likely to help you spread the word and get more backers. I hear Steam early-access and Patreon can be also great sources of income during development, but I haven’t tried them.

Self Promotion

It’s OK to ask for help. Getting used to this was the hardest bit for me, as I tend to prefer hiding in the shadows to the spotlight. You have to do it, and there's nothing wrong with it. Despite what you may instinctively feel, it's pretty hard to get annoyed at an earnest self-promoter, provided they're only asking once. Again, people are far more likely to help you if you show genuine interest in them, too. Start a conversation, talk about what's important to them. Ask them for a signal boost if they're into what you're making. Don't ask for money, and don't ask to trade promo, that's a bit weak. I recommend using Facebook, Twitter, maybe a blog if you enjoy it.. Having a separate Twitter and Facebook for work and personal can be useful. Good hashtags to use are #indiedev and #gamedev. Post a lot, show your passion, and as long as you're respectful and your product is good, people will help you.

Don’t go crazy.

Bear in mind that working alone, creatively, can have some psychological tolls. When you work for years on something important to you, it's easy to give in to doubt and anxiety. The longer you work on it, the greater it seems to need to be to live up to that. You keep raising the bar, but whenever you do, every aspect of the game has to rise up. Distraction, too, can become a constant problem to the developer who disengages with their creation. It can get bad.

Some things you can do to counter this:

Move around. Work from cafes, outside, or in shared work spaces in cities.

Don’t make your sleep-zone or gaming-zone be your work area. That separation helps you relax during off-time.

Take advantage of your flexible schedule. If it works for you, occasionally break up your work day and enjoy the daylight outside.

Get and give feedback from developers you trust, who are also making awesome things. I’m always surprised how much this small thing matters and inspires.

During the drag of a long project, take days to work on something else. Game jams, or new ideas. (I make nerdy charts and skill trees for future games)

You should love it.

Let’s face it, if you can make a game, there are much easier ways to use your talents to make lots of money. If you’re in this field, it should bring you joy. If that’s not happening, and it’s not on the horizon, you should reconsider the path you’re on.

If you made it this far, awesome. Thank you for listening. I’m happy to answer any questions you have in the comments. Ask me anything! Also, please take a look at my game in the link at the bottom, and if you’re into it, spread the word.

TL;DR:

Work for a company first, earn some coin, exp, and recruit allies.

Try to become versatile, and don’t underestimate what you can learn.

Determine your strengths and weaknesses, and know how to fill in the gaps with help.

Spend good money on things you can't do well.

Start building an online following ASAP.

Write all of your ideas down, bad ones too.

Create, a lot. Good things, bad things, just create.

Get people to test early, because you're in a vacuum and take things for granted.

Don’t try to make your first game your masterpiece.

Plan, but not too much.

Don't over-optimize or start over, instead do it better the next time.

Finish projects and don't get ahead of yourself.

Everything you make increases your residual income, brand strength, and freedom.

Keep your business as simple and as small as you can.

Be careful who you sign on with and what you sign up for.

Live cheaply.

Don't "feature creep".

Crowdfund for extra money, or use early access but never rely on these. Avoid the "cycle of need".

Promote and share often, don't be afraid to ask for help, but don't be annoying either.

Care about what other people are doing and they will care about your work.

Master solitude, self-doubt, and distraction.

Love what you are doing, and if you don’t, change course.

Nova Drift Kickstarter and Trailer