#corrupt law enforcement does not surprise me at all

[raenegade-accio]

Beware the following mindless deranged rambling that randomly hit me at 3am, but I can't be the only one who felt this way when playing for the first time...

Not having Officer Singer conspiring with Rookwood was a big fat missed opportunity

And whether it was intentional or not, it was all perfectly laid out for a plot like this since the start!

From her first theatrically heroic appearance in Hogsmeade:

As a Magical Law Enforcement Officer, I assume Singer is equipped with the basic knowledge of evacuation procedures e.g. steeling all persons away from the ongoing threat and ensuring they exit the area safely.

But what did she do instead?

Luring the massive troll into rampaging further into Hogsmeade, leaving a pair of 15-year-olds completely out in the open, vulnerable to new imminent dangers. And sure enough, as soon as MC and Natty/Sebastian were alone, another troll bursted in, mere seconds after Singer left the scene.

What's not to say she was only there to clear of any potential civilian witnesses, using the first troll to scare them away under the guise of doing her job, while the second troll quickly comes crashing in, with MC being served up in a silver platter.

Later we saw Singer comes running back and is understandably surprised to see MC unscathed. We get this strange piece of dialogue:

She didn't bother assessing, or at least securing the crime scene when it's literally the first step to ensure an initial investigation can later be conducted properly. Instead she does the complete opposite by having someone else to practically wipe it clean of anything worth further investigating; there definitely would’ve been debris or bits of damaged armour with lingering traces of dark magic, now all gone. Then she just vanished, leaving a couple of teenagers alone in an deserted area, again.

Later we meet Rookwood for the first time.

From here we learned that Rookwood watched the whole incident unfold, implying he planned to abduct MC at the first chance he got, one which Officer Singer very conveniently provided. The only thing stopping him was seeing the new kid had absolutely Thanos-ed a troll using an unfamiliar form of magic.

And he wasn't exactly discreet either. Rookwood, an infamous criminal gang leaders was allowed to so nonchalantly wander around Hogsmeade in the broad daylight and it was clear he could to barge into public establishments whenever he wanted while openly threatening a pair of minors. A Dark Wizard who was now actively stalking a literal child got to walk away scot-free. Pretty lenient...

At this point it wouldn't be too outrageous to say Singer is systematically participating in organised wizarding crime. Here's an interesting piece of dialogue from Rookwood:

"Favours." now we have proof that Rookwood somewhat has a little power in the Ministry. There could've been a transactional relationship between Rookwood and Singer too.

British policing wasn't exactly well liked; venal and corrupt as it was, elite officers colluding with criminals weren't new.

Assuming it applied to the Wizarding World too.

At the era HL takes place (the 1800s), bribery and cover-ups were daily occurrences, which could garner favours that often came from the very criminals from whom corrupt officers have collected in exchange for "turning a blind eye".

This one's a bit of a stretch to be honest, but it may have explained how Rookwood evidently was able to be as active as he was for "months." And it certainly would make more sense in how Singer maintained keep her position a lawwoman that's reputable and admired by the locals as long as she did despite her blatant inactions, considering the possibilities he helped pulled some strings.

It'd be too easy to claim Officer Singer was never fired simply by theorising the Department of Magical Law Enforcement were as unfit, unintelligent and incapable as the forces from the Victorian Metropolitan Police.

But it's later found out the locals felt very differently:

People trusted her, relied on her. They felt safe whenever she's near and all have nothing but praises for her.

Imagine the potential - the level of public outrage and betrayal - among the common folk, that the person who was supposed to defend them has been aiding the Ashwinders extorting, threatening and bullying them this whole time, possibly allowing said group access to all the needed private information to terrorise them even further (e.g. their names, private residences, workplaces and occupations, and all that of their loved ones, too)

This can easily be backed up by Natty’s questline: A Basis for Blackmail

We meet a few of the victims - targeted by Theophilus Harlow, another notorious Ashwinder leader and Rookwood’s right hand man - most notably Mr Isko Rabe and his wife.

Harlow knew their names, where Mrs Rabe worked (Gringotts), what she and her husband do for a living (bank security and curse breaker) and where they lived (to plant the threatening note and destroy their garden). Both careers are as high profile as they are dangerous, so it’s not surprising Mrs Rabe was approached about extorting the bank itself. What is disquieting was that their private homes were infiltrated a little too easily, especially concerning her husband is a talented curse-breaker.

Interestingly, Mrs Rabe and officer Singer were likely colleagues (as per the cutscene of the first Hogsmeade troll attack, you can see Mrs Rabe following closely behind Singer). Someone with Singer’s position would have all the necessary connections and know-how to learn all she needs to someone of lower rank, especially when divulging them to a powerful gang leader she may had been conspiring with…

—

I got so excited because I was convinced there would be a twist of some sort, where we may get to pull a Houdini or a Scooby-Doo then unmask Singer as another sleazy dark witch that's been undercover and lying to the locals for years, secretly exploiting with Rookwood and manipulating the same people she's meant to protect.

I was so mentally prepared for the scandal, already so gleefully imagining the reactions of the villagers, the teachers or students from the sheer betrayal after speaking so highly of her and putting so much trust in that woman.

Imagine my disappointment when I find that she really was just hilariously incompetent 😂

Shit, even MC themselves pointed this out ( after local businesses were being extorted and a student was just kidnapped by a group of adults:

I can always incorporate this post in the fic, that'd be fun.

[lurkingshan]

Hi! I love reading your opinions and I have just started The Sign. What are your opinions on the show and what route are you hoping it would take for the second half of the show? Take care and happy new year!

Hello anon! You picked such an interesting moment to send this ask. We’re halfway through the show and I think its strengths and weaknesses have become fairly clear. Let's talk about it!

Strength: The Chemistry

I think this is the thing that had all the girlies losing it right out of the gate: Phaya and Tharn are hot and their interactions are hotter. The pull and chemistry between them is palpable and the set up for their romance is compelling. Kudos to whoever found Babe and decided to pair him with Billy: you, sir or madam, are incredible at your job and deserve a fruit basket. We are all dying for these two to finally fuck.

Weakness: The Pacing

Which is why it's kind of frustrating that the show is dragging its feet on letting their relationship advance. The first four eps were delicious tension-building, but as the show starts to stall and use dream sequence fakeouts to provide smut without actual relationship development, the audience is clearly getting antsy. The show's pacing is all over the place in general, with wildly varied episode lengths and inconsistent action and plot advancement from week to week. And the desire to drag out the romance without a compelling alternative plot to fill the show in its absence is causing some damage to the characters, most notably Tharn, who is just starting to seem unreasonably antagonistic to a person we know he likes, not to mention unperceptive in his continued inability to notice what is going on around him.

Strength: Production Values

This show is absolutely gorgeous; you can tell most of the money went into making every frame of it beautiful. The strength of the production values and hard work of the crew to create the look and feel of the world was evident from the first episode with all those beautiful training sequences on the beach. And this is used to particularly strong effect whenever we visit Phaya and Tharn's past lives and see the magical world that exists around them come to life.

Strength: The Supporting Cast

The show also has a great ensemble, with Yai especially a standout character who brings a lot of fun to the show, along with his girlfriend Sand and the police squad bros. This is not surprising, as big, messy, chaotic, endearing queer friend groups are an IdolFactory staple. As of last week, we officially have a lesbian side pairing! Tharn and Phaya also have interesting family histories with sweet grandmas and loved ones who lend depth to their characterization.

Weakness: The Copaganda

It was perhaps too much to expect that this bl about cops would have a more sophisticated perspective on law enforcement, institutional corruption, and the so-called "justice" system, but that does not stop me from groaning out loud every time they pause the story to let these characters wax poetic about the nobility of their jobs.

Strength: Thai Folklore

This show is teaching all of us some things about real Thai folklore about the garuda and nara, including local customs associated with celebrating these tales, and the depiction of these stories in the show is just beautiful. Despite it basically being a tourism advert (complete with couple shirts for no reason??), I really enjoyed the episode that took us to Nong Khai and the Mekong River to see how modern Thai folks interpret and celebrate the myths at the center of this show’s story and ground us in something real.

Weakness: An Underdeveloped Take on Toxic Masculinity

This show uses violence quite a lot in its story, including violence in interpersonal dynamics, and it sometimes seems to want us to be alarmed by uncontrolled male anger, and sometimes impressed by it. At this point, Tharn and Phaya have both struck each other in anger during personal disagreements, and there hasn't been any real reckoning with the fallout of that. On top of that, the show has given us some crime cases that highlight the harm of toxic masculinity while also seeming to glorify and revel in it, most notably in the framing of a man who kidnapped and retraumatized sexual assault victims as a hunky folk hero. It's a confused take, to say the least, and I'm not sure the show has the depth and precision necessary in the writing to take on some of what it's throwing at the wall.

Strength: Villains

All I can say is Heng was born to play an evil snake god. The show has done a good job at making him feel like a real threat and building the antagonism between him and Phaya to the point where Phaya has been isolated from support and made to look crazy in front of Tharn. Dr. Slow Motion is very good at this.

So, what's the TL; DR? This show is a lot of fun, but has some obvious weaknesses in the writing, so do your best not to take it too seriously if you can. I am ready to see Phaya and Tharn get together and finally start working as a team, for the full backstory and epic battle they are waging to come out, and for the motivations of the rest of the cast of characters to become clear (I just know there are some additional past life reincarnations waiting to be revealed). It's a great time if you don't think about it too hard, and I really hope the back half will pick up the pace so that we can all just enjoy the ride.

[kanerallels]

For @laughingphoenixleader, who requested Kanej in a superhero/villain au

(tw for vague mentions of drug deals and human trafficking, though there's nothing explicit)

The streets of Chicago were clogged with criminals. One couldn’t take a step without seeing a carjacking, a drug sale, a mugging. It was the perfect place for a criminal enterprise to begin and flourish.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise to anyone, then, when someone other than the corrupt law enforcement rose up to stop them.

The Wraith. No one had seen her face, but everyone knew the name. A figure in dark clothing, using knives and carrying out judgment against the traffickers and the dealers before disappearing into the shadows again. Those who used humans as a commodity seemed to be the biggest targets.

Which was lucky for the city’s latest big player.

“Kaz Brekker,” Inej murmured, studying the blurry image on the computer screen. He looked young, though how old she couldn’t tell with the quality of the photo. All that was really obvious was dark clothing and hair, a pale face, and the cane in his gloved hand. Both of which look…familiar.

“Why is he on our radar?” she asked Nina, who was slouched in the wheeled chair in front of the computer.

The young woman shrugged. “Possibly because he’s the main suspect in seventeen different robberies, but no one’s been able to prove it. Or because his right hand man shoots like no human being should be able to. There’s also the fact that he sprouted up out of nowhere overnight. Looks like he took control of Per Haskell’s gang, but he was there all along. We just didn’t see him until now.”

Inej frowned. “Why?”

Getting up from her chair, Nina headed towards the kitchenette in the corner of the basement room Inej used as her headquarters. “Probably because he didn’t want to be seen. And you’ve had other, bigger problems on your mind. Toaster waffle?”

Absently, Inej waved her off, mind spinning. Kaz Brekker. If his plan was to set himself up as the crime lord of the city, that could be a problem. Especially if he was as good as Nina said he was. “I might have to pay him a visit,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else.

Nina answered anyway as she popped two waffles into the toaster. “Just do me a favor and don’t get stabbed. I have class tonight, and stitching you up doesn’t actually count as homework.”

Despite her cavalier words, Inej could hear the concern hiding behind them, and she smiled. “I’ll be careful, Nina. I promise.”

The other woman didn’t look overly comforted, but nodded all the same.

Later that night, after Nina had cajoled her into eating and resting, then swept off to her night class at Ravka University, Inej slipped out of her civilian clothes and into her suit. It wasn’t quite Superman quality, but the clothing was comfortable and good for sneaking and climbing. She checked to make sure her knives and gear were all secure, and set off into the night.

Brekker seemed to have set up shop at the Crow Club downtown. Inej knew of the place, but Per Haskell—the former owner—had never caused enough trouble for her to have risked the trip, not yet. She’d had bigger prey to track.

Slipping in was a simple matter. One of the windows was unlocked, and Inej eased through into what looked like an office. A desk lined with papers and books stood in the middle, with a cot pushed up against one wall. Does Brekker live here?

A key clicked in the lock, and Inej ghosted into a dark corner, keeping her steps quiet and smooth. A second later, the door swung open, and Kaz Brekker stepped inside, limp obvious, cane swinging.

She caught the barest glimpse of pale skin and high cheekbones before his back was to her, standing at the desk. His movements precise, he flipped through a file, gloved fingers tapping against the outside.

The tapping paused, and his head lifted a little. Then he spoke, his voice rasping and rough.

“The Wraith, I presume.”

How did he know I was here? Inej brushed aside the surprise. There was no use in pretending now. She moved out of the shadows, and Brekker turned to face her.

Inej’s heart skipped a beat. Not for any silly, romantic reasons—though the young man facing her was handsome enough, in a severe way. He was all sharp angles and dark shades, his dark brown eyes taking her in like she was a problem to be solved.

No, the reason her heart skipped a beat was because she knew him.

She hadn’t known his name at the time. But they’d met once, years ago. Before Inej became the Wraith, before she’d escaped the life that had driven her to take this path.

The police had found her. An undercover cop, Detective Nazyalensky, had made contact, and promised her that if she informed on Heleen and her entire organization, she would go free. Inej had been going to meet her the day of the bust when Heleen had summoned her into her office.

She’d known. Inej was sure of it, and if she went into that office, she would be beaten, or sold, or worse. Fear had threatened to choke her, and she’d wavered. Should she run? But she wouldn’t have made it, not if Heleen wasn’t distracted.

And then he’d walked in. He couldn’t have been more than sixteen, but carried himself like a full grown man. But he didn’t look at the girls as he came in, and that struck Inej as curious. The other customers ogled freely.

Maybe he wasn’t a customer. Perhaps he was one of the information dealers who came to Heleen for what the girl’s customers knew. In which case…

She moved toward him quietly, her feet brushing the floor. He was standing at the door of Heleen’s office, facing away from her when she said, “I can help you.”

He’d been startled when he turned to face her, though it faded quickly. He’d lifted an eyebrow, looking a little curious when Heleen’s voice had rung out from the office.

“Enough hiding, little lynx! I said I wanted to see you, and I want to do it now.”

Inej had flinched, unable to prevent the visions flooding her mind. The boy facing her frowned, just a little. Then, he’d spoken. Not to her, but to Heleen.

“You have an appointment to keep with me, Heleen. Haskell won’t wait forever.”

Grumbling, Heleen had appeared at the office door and waved for the boy to follow her in. Before he moved away, the boy had looked at her. “Don’t let them see your tell,” he’d said, voice too quiet to Heleen to make out. “And don’t look back.”

He’d entered the office, and Inej knew. It was time to run.

And so she did. She made it, and Heleen was locked up 24 hours later. Inej was free, and it was thanks to the actions of a stranger.

He had, whether he knew it or not, been the reason she’d gotten away, the reason she’d been able to tell the police everything.

His eyes narrowed a little as he looked at her, and for a second Inej thought, He knows. But then—no. He couldn’t. Her face was covered, and it had been close to four years since her escape.

“And you’re Kaz Brekker,” she said, keeping her voice cool. Business like. “The newest boss on the block.”

“Here to stop me?” Brekker asked, an eyebrow going up. “Bring me to justice like the Black Heretic? The Lantsov family?”

“The police took the Lantsov family,” Inej said, and Brekker snorted.

“The police in this town couldn’t solve their way out of a cardboard box. You handed them the arrest.”

He’s smart. “How do you know that?”

“I make it my business to know.” Folding his hands over his cane, he said, “So, what have I done to merit your attention? I thought I’d kept a fairly low profile.”

“You haven’t done anything. Yet,” Inej said, letting her hand rest on the knives at her waist. Brekker’s gaze followed the movement for only a heartbeat before locking back onto her masked face.

“Ah. Threatening me into submission. Interesting method. Unfortunately for you, I have plans that can’t be put on hold. And you don’t kill anyone unless what they’ve done meets your criteria.”

Inej wouldn’t show her surprise. “You’ve done your research.”

“It’s good to know who I’m dealing with. And to know how you intend to be rid of me.” Continuing, he said, “If you were going to kill me, I’d be dead. Everyone you don’t kill gets handed over to the police, and there’s nothing on me for the police.” The thinnest sliver of a smile appeared. “So, Wraith, your threats are to no avail.”

Oh, he could be dangerous. “Then consider this an appeal to your better nature,” Inej told him.

He laughed, sharp and bitter. “I don’t have one.”

“You have common sense. Don’t give me a reason to come after you, and I won’t.” Inej met his gaze, hoping he would see the intent in her eyes.

He was still for a moment, then inclined his head. “Then perhaps I will see you again, Wraith. Or perhaps not. We’ll see what your code dictates.”

Without another word, he turned back to his desk. Inej hesitated for a fraction of a second, then slipped out the window. Activating the ascension cable she wore strapped to her wrist, she fired it and swung out across the city. She needed to find somewhere to think before her nightly patrols began.

She had a feeling then that she would meet Kaz Brekker again. And she truly didn’t know if she hoped for it or dreaded it.

[dairy-farmer]

anti-semitic themes up ahead.

i hope this reaches well, the court of owls is tied with anti-semitic things. i'm not really the best with explaining but reading a post from someone might help and spread awareness.

https://www.tumblr.com/kalelraejepsen/665890471924678656/i-just-finished-reading-scott-snyders-court-of?source=share

i hope this helps :)

unfortunately it looks like the post may have been deleted, this ask is from july 15th so it's been a few months and looks like i wasn't able to view it in time before op took it down/it was taken down.

unfortunately the whole court of owls being antisemitic doesn't surprise me. as much as i may enjoy one character from dc i definitely don't like the entire media distributor as a whole, like their handling of tim 'coming out' where he's apologizing to his girlfriend for...not knowing he was gay? and needing time to come to terms with it so he broke up with her was the most recent thing i could think of and that was more mildly irritating than in the territory of the very long list of the racist, sexist, misogynistic, homophobic, islamophobic, and other things they've done or poorly portrayed.

i honestly mostly ignore the entire court of owls thing unless someone brings it up because it, to me, was just such a balloon-deflating plot. because whole thing was like someone did a middle school interpretation of 'eyes wide shut'

to me, one of the major reasons the whole court of owl thing wasn't good because it basically removed all the very real reasons gotham was struggling. gotham parallels many major cities that have problems with crime and violence and poverty and saying that it was some "rich shadow secret society" pulling the strings and not the: chronic poverty, absence of social safety nets, gang violence, widespread substance issues, corrupt law enforcement- it just really undercut a lot of the core values that batman fought for: dignity and justice for the people of gotham.

it's understandable as well though that once you start looking at the court of owls comics through a more critical lens that other things pop out as well like antisemitic themes that may present and whether conscious or not- if a writer or artist is bigoted that does have a tendency to leak into what they make which is why 'separation of the art and artist' is not always successful or possible.. and dc does not have a history where they can be given the benefit of the doubt. and i'm not one to defend corporations.

media literacy and developing a good base for interpretation is important for people to be able to pull meaningful lessons from what they consume as well as to recognize patterns and potential issues as well. as a result some antisemitic things aren't as in your face like a plainly derogatory rap lyric against jewish people by jay-z and for many nonjewish comic readers the antisemitism probably doesn't even occur to them. however being able to read an analysis post from the perspective of a jewish person who picks up on many uncomfortable scenarios that are all to reminiscent of antisemitism is a good way to help people remain aware and critical of the media they consume. it's a shame i wasn't able to read the post but even if i can't i can definitely see how the whole 'secret group of ultra wealthy people are behind literally poisoning the city' is uncomfortably similar to many of the deeply antisemitic ideas that have led to violent persecution of jewish communities for centuries.

[mightyflamethrower]

At the nexus of most of America’s current crises, the diversity/equity/inclusion dogma can be found.

The southern border has been destroyed because the Democratic Party wanted the poor of the southern hemisphere to be counted in the census, to vote if possible in poorly audited mail-in elections, and to build upon constituencies that demand government help. Opposition to such cynicism and the de facto destruction of enforcement of U.S. immigration law is written off as “racism,” “nativism,” and “xenophobia.”

The military is short more than 40,000 soldiers. The Pentagon may fault youth gangs, drug use, or a tight labor market. But the real shortfall is mostly due inordinately to reluctant white males who have been smeared by some of the military elite as suspected “white supremacists,” despite dying at twice their demographics in Iraq and Afghanistan. And they are now passing on joining up despite their families’ often multigenerational combat service.

The nexus between critical race theory and critical legal theory has been, inter alia, defunding the police, Soros-funded district attorneys exempting criminals from punishment, the legitimization of mass looting, squatters’ rights, and general lawlessness across big-city America.

The recent epidemic of anti-Semitism was in part birthed by woke/DEI faculty and students on elite campuses, who declared Hamas a victim of “white settler” victimizing Israel and thus contextualized their Jewish hatred by claiming that as “victims,” they cannot be bigots.

There is a historic, malevolent role of states adjudicating political purity, substituting racial, sex, class, and tribal criteria for meritocracy. They define success or failure not based on actual outcomes but on the degree of orthodox zealotry. Once governments enter that realm of the surreal, the result is always an utter disaster.

After a series of disastrous military catastrophes in 1941 and 1942, Soviet strongman and arch-communist Joseph Stalin ended the Soviet commissar system in October 1942. He reversed course to give absolute tactical authority to his ground commanders rather than to the communist overseers, as was customary.

Stalin really had no choice since Marxist-Leninist ideology overriding military logic and efficacy had ensured that the Soviet Union was surprised by a massive Nazi invasion in June 1941. The Russians in the first 12 months of war subsequently lost nearly 5 million in vast encirclements—largely because foolhardy, ideologically driven directives curtailed the generals’ operational control of the army. After the commissars were disbanded and commanders given greater autonomy, the landmark victory at Stalingrad followed, and with it, the rebound of the Red Army.

One reason why the dictator Napoleon ran wild in Europe for nearly 18 years was that his marshals of France were neither selected only by the old Bourbon standards of aristocratic birth and wealth nor by new ideological revolutionary criteria, but by more meritocratic means than those of his rival nations.

Mao’s decade-long cultural revolution (1966–76) ruined China. It was predicated on Maoist revolutionary dogma overruling economic, social, cultural, and military realities. An entire meritocracy was deemed corrupted by the West and reactionary—and thus either liquidated or rendered inert.

In their place, incompetent zealots competed to destroy all prior standards as “bourgeois” and “counter-revolutionary.” It is no surprise that the current “people’s liberation army,” for all its talk of communist dogma, does not function entirely on Mao’s principles.

Muammar Gaddafi wrecked Libya by reordering an once oil-rich nation on Gaddafi’s crackpot rules of his “Green Book.” At times, the unhinged ideologue, in lunatic fashion, required all Libyans to raise chickens or to destroy all the violins in the nation. I once asked a Libyan why the oil-rich country appeared to me utterly wrecked, and he answered, “We first hire our first cousins—and usually the worst.”

There were many reasons why the King-Cotton, slave-owning Old South lagged far behind the North in population, productivity, and infrastructure. But the chief factor was the capital and effort invested in the amoral as well as uneconomic institution of slavery.

After the Civil War, persistent segregationist ideology demanded vast amounts of time, labor, and money in defining race down to the “one drop” rule—while establishing a labyrinth of segregation laws and refusing to draw on the talents of millions of black citizens.

Yet here we are in 2024, ignoring the baleful past as the woke diversity/equity/inclusion commissars war on merit. Institutions from United Airlines and the Federal Aviation Administration to the Pentagon and elite universities have been reformulated in the post-George Floyd woke hysteria. And to the delight of competitors and enemies abroad, they are now using criteria other than merit to hire, promote, evaluate, and retain.

The greatest problem historically with hiring and promoting based on DEI-like dogma is that anti-meritocratic criteria mark the beginning, not the end, of eroding vital standards. If one does not qualify for a position or slot by accepted standards, then a series of further remedial interventions are needed to sustain the woke project, from providing exceptions and exemptions, changing rules and requirements, and misleading the nation that a more “diverse” math, or more “inclusive” engineering, or more “equity” in chemistry can supplant mastery of critical knowledge that transcends gender, race, or ideology.

But planes either fly or crash due to proper operation, not the appearance or politics of the operator. All soldiers either hit or miss targets, and engineers either make bridges that stand or collapse on the basis of mastering ancient scientific canons and acquired skills, training, and aptitude that have nothing to do with superficial appearance, or tribal affinities, or religion, or doctrine.

The common denominator of critical theories, from critical legal theory to critical social theory, is toxic nihilism, which claims there are no absolute standards, only arbitrary rules and regulations set up by a privileged, powerful class to exploit “the other.” Yet, not punishing looting has nothing to do with race or class, but everything with corroding timeless deterrence that always has and always will prevent the bullying strong from preying on the weak and vulnerable.

Defunding the police sent a message to any criminally minded that in a cost-to-benefit risk assessment, the odds were now on the side of the criminal not being caught for his crimes—and so crime soared and the vulnerable of the inner city became easy prey.

Another danger of DEI is the subordination of the individual to the collective. We are currently witnessing an epidemic of DEI racism in which commissars talk nonstop of white supremacy/rage/privilege without any notion of enormous differences among 230 million individual Polish-, Greek-, Dutch-, Basque-, or Armenian-Americans, or the class, political, and cultural abyss that separates those in Martha’s Vineyard from their antitheses in East Palestine, Ohio.

Moreover, what is “whiteness” in an increasingly intermarried and multiracial society? Oddly, something akin to the old one-drop rules of the South is now updated to determine victims and victimizers—to the point of absurdity. Who is white—someone one half-Irish, one half Mexican—who is black—someone one quarter Jamaican, three-quarters German? To find answers, DEI czars must look to paradigms of the racist past for answers.

Moreover, once any group is exempted and not held to collective standards by virtue of its superficial appearance, then the nation naturally witnesses an increase in racism and bigotry—on the theory that it is not racist to racially stigmatize a supposedly “racist” collective. And we are already seeing an uptake in racially motivated interracial violence as criminals interpret the trickle-down theory of reparatory justice as providing exemption for opportunistic violence.

Throughout history, it has always been the most mediocre and opportunistic would-be commissars that appear to come forth when meritocracy vanishes. If there was not a Harvard President and plagiarist like Claudine Gay to trumpet and leverage her DEI credentials, she would have to be invented. If there was not a brilliant, non-DEI economist like Roland Fryer to be hounded and punished by her, he would have to be invented.

The DEI conglomerate has little idea of the landmines it is planting daily by reducing differences in talent, character, and morality into a boring blueprint of racial stereotypes. Punctuality is now “white time” and supposedly pernicious. The SAT, designed to give the less privileged a meritocratic pathway to college admissions, is deemed racist and either discarded or warped.

In its absence, universities are quietly now “reimaging” their curriculum to make it more “relevant to today’s students” and, of course, “more inclusive and more diverse.” Translated from the language of Oceania, that means after admitting tens of thousands to the nation’s elite schools who did not meet the universities’ own prior standards that they themselves once established and apprehensive about terminating such students, higher education is now euphemistically lowering the work load in classes, introducing new less rigorous classes, and inflating grades. In their virtue-signaling, they have little clue that inevitably their once prized and supposedly prestigious degrees will be rendered less valued as employers discover a Harvard, Stanford, or Princeton BA or BS is not a guarantee of academic excellence or mastery of vital skill sets.

Toxic tribalism is also, unfortunately, like nuclear proliferation. Once one group goes full tribal, others may as well, if for no reason than their own self-survival in a balkanized, Hobbesian world of bellum omnium contra omnes. If our popular culture is to be defined by the racist hosts of The View, or the racist anchorwoman Joy Reid, or members of the Congressman “Squad,” or entire studies departments in our universities that constantly bleat out the racialist mantra, then logically one of two developments will follow.

One, so-called whites in minority-majority states like California will copy the tribal affinities of others that transcend their class and cultural differences, again in response to other blocs that do the same for careerist advantage and perceived survival. Or two, racism will be redefined empirically so that any careerist elites who espouse ad nauseam racial chauvinism—on the assurance they cannot be deemed racists—will be discredited and exposed for what they’ve become, and thus the content of our character will triumph over the color of our skin.

Finally, do we ever ask how a country of immigrants like the United States—vastly smaller than India and China, less materially rich than the vast expanse of Russia, without the strategic geography of the Middle East, or without the long investment and infrastructure of Europe—emerged out of nowhere to dominate the world economically, financially, militarily, and educationally for nearly two centuries?

The answer is easy: it was the most meritocratic land of opportunity in the world, where millions emigrated (legally) on the assurance that their class, politics, religion, ethnicity, and yes, race, would be far less a drawback than anywhere else in the world.

The degree to which the U.S. survives DEI depends on either how quickly it is discarded or whether America’s existential enemies in the Middle East, China, Russia, and Iran have even worse DEI-anti-meritocratic criteria of their own in hiring, promotion, and admissions—whether defined by institutionalized hatred of the West, or loyalty oaths to the communist party, or demonstrable obsequiousness to the Putin regime, or lethal religious intolerance.

Unfortunately, our illiberal enemies, China especially, at least in matters of money and arms, are now emulating the meritocracy of the old America. Meanwhile, we are hellbent on following their former destructive habits of using politics instead of merit to staff our universities, government, corporations, and military.

Our future hinges on how quickly we discard DEI orthodoxy and simply make empirical decisions to stop printing money, deter enemies abroad, enforce our laws, punish criminals, secure the border, reboot the military, regain energy independence, and judge citizens on their character and talent and not their appearance and politics—at least if it is not already too late.

[softshuji]

Most of my superiors were corrupt, I didn't associate with them often. The good ones, the ones who actually cared were slaughtered by Kakucho. I'm pretty sure I was supposed to die that night too, if only Rindou hadn't stopped me from going.

I do miss the simplicity of my old life a lot. I don't approve of bonten or what I am either, it's wrong. It's hard to stick to my morals and work here but I'm still trying.

-Naoto

I'm sorry... you didn't really get much of a say did you? I mean in joining. You didn't get time to mourn either, for the loss of your old friends. Maybe when you're feeling better, you could ask Izana for some time off and relax or something, like properly I mean, you deserve it after everything you've been through I think. I did that, back when Takeomi was alive.

But... as much as I sometimes don't approve of what Bonten does, I know that inside, there is still some sort of kindness in most of its members. Mikey was a good example, and I only got to see a shadow of the person he was right at the end

[blue-mood-blue]

They tell him that his name is Benzaiten Steel.

They tell him that he’s been shot.

Officially, publicly, his condition is unknown - they haven’t released any details yet, pending the investigation. As he understands it, the investigation amounts to his mother and brother pointing to each other in accusation, both of them held in separate interview rooms of the HCPD while Ben lays in his hospital bed. They were hoping he could give them answers, Ben realizes when the doctor and the officer both hover around his door uncertainly before turning to go.

But Ben doesn’t remember anything. He can’t tell them if his brother in law enforcement went corrupt or if his mentally ill mother finally slipped too far. If it was an argument, or an accident, or which of his incredibly small family is more likely to lie. He wouldn’t have been able to tell them his name if they hadn’t told him first, because Ben hardly remembers anything at all.

It’s the head injury, the nurse tells him at two in the morning while she gives him more pain medication. Not from the blast, which had caught him in the shoulder and was more than enough damage to a body on its own, according to her. He must have hit his head on something on the way down, gave himself a nasty bump and some swelling. Nothing to worry about too much, she added quickly after getting a good glance at Ben’s expression. Just... just the memories might not come back. Hard to tell with these things.

Ben chews over the possibility after she leaves, slipping in and out of sleep. He should want to know, right? He should be searching for those memories, and the way he fit between them. He should be looking for himself... looking for the truth.

There are two people in his family. One of them shot him. He can’t imagine a truth there that wouldn’t tear him in two anyway.

Ben takes a moment to pity whoever it was he used to be - must’ve had a sad life, in the middle of that mess. Couldn’t possibly have been happy, in that little apartment in Oldtown, no one to call or contact besides the people led away in handcuffs. Such a small, tiring existence... didn’t he feel stifled, trapped? He does now. He thinks about going back to that, and he can’t breathe.

Ben looks at the window instead. He can make out some stars, but only a few - it’s hard to see much around the light pollution and the dome. He doesn’t remember, but logic tells him he hasn’t lived the kind of life that’s ever taken him off of Mars; he’s never seen any of those stars, or the planets around them, or their moons - not really. He thinks he might like to, and it’s almost a surprise when the thought comes to him; it’s as if his mind has been cleared of some dome hemming him in, holding him in place, and now there’s room to want. Ben feels untethered, adrift... free. Free in a way he knows, somehow, he’s never been before.

It’s a heady feeling. For the first time since waking, Ben smiles. He could be free. He could reach up to those stars and never come back down.

Benzaiten Steel might not remember anything about himself, but he learns that he’s a good actor. When the officer comes back with more questions, Ben tells them he’s afraid for his life, more afraid because he doesn’t know who or what to fear. “Be honest,” he asks, voice shaking with something (not fear, but the officer doesn’t know that). “Do you think this could happen again? Am I really safe?”

Benzaiten Steel is declared dead, and Ben boards a ship.

~~~

He still calls himself Ben; everything else, he cuts away and leaves behind as deadweight. He’s Ben Nothing, Ben Nobody, and he runs between the stars like there’s something chasing him. He finds work where he can, and he finds that the most lucrative work is the illegal kind. He finds that he’s good at it, charming people with a smile or disarming them with a few tears, and then liberating them from whatever they have in their pocket, or safe, or bank account.

Ben is happy. Ben is competent, secure, well-liked in the circles he moves through. Ben is as free as he ever wanted to be, in this life or any other. And if he feels like something unnamed is breathing down his neck some days, well, he is a thief, isn’t he? There’s always someone after him, law enforcement on several planets at least. If he avoids Mars and anywhere too close to that little, red planet, it’s his own business. There’s not much on Mars, anyway; only the Cerberus Province and the connections he could make there, and it’s a small sacrifice to make for all of the things he gets to see.

Ben isn’t lonely. He just feels a little adrift sometimes.

And it’s years before anything catches him.

He has a jewel that toppled a dynasty with the conflict it caused hidden in his pocket, and he slips into a dark, mostly empty theater to wait out the afternoon and the authorities. He already has a spot waiting for him on a ship traveling several planets away, but it won’t take off for hours. He has plenty of time.

Ben pulls out his comms to waste some hours, ignoring the movie playing on the screen; a kids’ movie, probably with the hope that whole families would make the effort of taking a trip to the theater to spend time together. It was a bad gamble, with the only person there other than Ben asleep in a chair in the corner. Ben snorts; kind of a stupid thought, that anyone would bother when they could stream whatever old movies they wanted directly to their home.

He’s in the middle of a game when he looks up at the screen. There’s a woman fighting a dragon, and he isn’t sure what caught his attention until it happens again.

“Andromeda!” someone on the screen yells.

Ben’s head hurts.

Andromeda! a younger Benzaiten yells. He can feel the warm sun beating down on him, the familiar sounds of shouting down a street somewhere too far away to worry about. His voice, thin and reedy and so young, makes its best attempt at a growl. You will never escape me!

“You will never escape me!”

His head throbs, and he could cry with how much it hurts.

I do not intend to run - I will stay and fight, because good must always succeed! Someone with his face answers back, swinging a sword made of paper towel rolls and too much duct tape, and then breaks from the script: And I’m faster than you anyway, Benten, so I can escape whenever I want to.

For a moment, he rests on the divide between Ben and Benzaiten. If he tries, he could pull back - but he also knows he could no more let go of that voice than tear his own heart out.

Juno. A knowledge from the long-dormant pieces of him whispers an answer he doesn’t ask for, as it drags the whole of his messy, painful history with it. That’s Juno. Your twin. Your family.

Benzaiten is still crying, hurt radiating from his head and his chest, and there’s no one around to care so he doesn’t stop. He watches the stupid movie three times, then boards a ship and tries to hide the evidence with makeup and a bright smile. He’s two planets away by the time he thinks about going back, all the way back, and by the time he’s three planets away he’s decided that it would be a ridiculous idea.

It’s been years. Fuck, it’s been so many years. Does Juno live in the same place? What if he’s married now; out of the two of them, he was always the one looking for someone to hold onto him. Would he even want to see Ben?

The answer should be yes, but Ben’s not an idiot, he knows reality is more complicated. Juno buried him, and mourned for him, and maybe even started to heal - and Ben had run. Run without looking back, leaving a death certificate and open wounds behind him.

Is Sarah still alive?

The question stops him cold, staring through the window and the pieces of galaxy he’s passing. If Sarah is alive, he would have to see her, too. That’s a promise he made himself a long time ago - that he wouldn’t choose between them. He was the one who held the family together. He’d always been that.

The Benzaiten in his head, the person he isn’t sure he is yet - anymore - tells him she loves you.

Ben, here and now, tells him she shot you.

Both of those things are true. And when Ben pulls away from the window, he tells himself that’s what he’s afraid of, that someone he loved hurt him and could do it again, that he might let them in the foolish, stupid need to find out if the love was still there somewhere under all of the hurt. To know trying hard enough could mean getting better.

If there’s another fear, if he can feel the gravity of Mars pulling him back and down and heavy, he doesn’t let himself think it. And he’s gotten pretty good at deception, so he might even believe it.

~~~

Ben dances more, when he remembers dancing. Nothing feels as free as the movement, as his total control over it. Not even the stars.

How much of his running was escape, and how much was just running?

~~~

He still calls himself Ben.

He has his reasons. “Benzaiten” is too memorable, and sharing a face and a last name with a sibling seems like a really good way to get that sibling into trouble. There’s a reputation in place already with the name he used. There are days when he doesn’t feel like he fits in Benzaiten’s life. He finds plenty of reasons.

He doesn’t visit. He thinks about it, comes close - as close as a planet and one ticket fare away, once - but Ben can’t bring himself to step foot in Hyperion City. Hyperion belongs to Juno, somehow. He was the one who stayed (I do not intend to run - I will stay and fight), and going home feels like... trespassing. Ben knows Juno wouldn’t say that. It doesn’t stop him from thinking it.

Hyperion City has a newspaper, though, and a subscription service that seems a little optimistic in its range. Maybe not all that optimistic, since Ben regularly takes advantage of it - between jobs, and only on his personal comms. Most of it has nothing to do with him, but he skips and skims through the digitized pages anyway, looking for whatever hints of a life he can find. Juno is a private investigator now, which doesn’t surprise Ben. There’s an engagement announcement and no following marriage announcement, which does.

(Sarah is guilty, and dead, and he doesn’t know how he feels about that. He doesn’t linger on the thought.)

Sometimes, when he feels brave, he imagines what it could be like. So what’s this about a gala at that new art gallery? You know, the one that lasted a whole night before it got blown up?

Juno’s laughter from the other side of the comms connection, maybe a little too young. Uh huh, I heard. The HCPD put it all over the news, along with how they saved the day. Or didn’t you hear that part?

They can say whatever they want, I know a Juno Steel case when I see one. Now, Ben adjusts on the bed, miles and miles away, glancing at the window to see if he can get a peek back the way he came, tell me everything.

Maybe the next time you come to see me, Juno says, and just like that the thought disintegrates. He can never put too many words in Juno’s mouth; there are just too many things he doesn’t know.

Ben gets lucky one day and sees a whole half a picture of Juno, looking out on a crowd. He’s not the focus - he’s standing next to some politician in the middle of a speech, a Ramses O’Flaherty who makes a lot of promises that sound like the “too good to be true, but wouldn’t it be nice” kind - but Ben will take what he can get. He can’t decide if Juno has more or less scars than he would have expected, given his line of work. He wonders how they all got there. Juno is standing on the stage with the politician; he must buy some of those promises to put himself so clearly in the man’s corner.

There’s a kind of worry in his gut about it, but Ben tries to take it as a good sign. The Juno he knew had a hard time trusting people; it would be nice if he’d found someone to believe in. It would be nice if that trust is well-placed.

Ben has to leave his comms behind for a job, taking a burner along instead, so he gets the results of the election at the same time he gets the announcement of O’Flaherty’s death and the conspiracy over Newtown. It doesn’t have to mean anything - just another politician who wasn’t what he seemed to be, or didn’t manage to hang on long enough to make good on his promises. That’s all it is.

He still looks for Juno in the stories he reads. He can’t seem to find him, anymore.

~~~

For the first time since they were nineteen, Benzaiten sees Juno across the room.

For a moment, he feels like he’s seen a ghost. A ridiculous thought, from the dead twin.

Juno Steel is so far away from Hyperion City, talking to Zolotovna in a resplendent dress as if he’s lived the kind of life that makes him belong, immediately and implicitly, among the disgustingly rich. Ben, who is there for a reason, he knows he’s there for a reason but fuck if he can remember why, tries not to make it obvious that he’s staring. He’s failing at that, he knows.

But Juno is here. Juno is here in the room with him, so different than he remembers, with so many more scars. With one less eye. Ben wants to ask when that happened, wants to demand that story, just as much as he wants to fade into the crowd and run.

He feels untethered; he feels like, if he runs, he’ll never find his way back again. Just this once, Ben lets himself understand that the tug of gravity pulling him back was never a leash around his neck as much as it was a rope around his middle - giving him a way back home. Juno had always been his anchor, keeping him from drifting too far.

There’s no going back, now. There’s no going home, no home to go back to.

Juno’s glance turns in his direction, and Ben is about to duck out of the way - an amateur move, guaranteed to catch his sibling’s eye, but he thinks he can be forgiven for being a little bit off his game - when Ben realizes he’s not who Juno is looking for. A man slips by him, tall and confident and familiar in a way that tells Ben exactly why he should be familiar. Juno can’t seem to help the way his face changes when he spots the man.

So the thief grabbed at Juno’s heart and pulled him away from Hyperion. That’s why Juno is here. It’s... infuriating, because there’s no way a common con deserves Juno Steel. Because it was never a thought in Ben’s head that Juno could be convinced to leave Hyperion, and he never thought to ask. (I do not intend to run. Running was Ben’s job.)

Ben is ready to do something stupid. He’s halfway across the ballroom, walking directly towards his brother well and aware that the impact will cause an explosion of a scene, when he sees Juno tilt his head.

There’s a comms in his ear.

Ben has been a thief long enough to recognize the habits of another thief - especially a new one.

He doesn’t remember what he came to this event for, but there’s nothing, mark or prize or job, that Benzaiten wants more than to understand the stranger in the dress who almost has his face. If he breaks something with an impulsive decision, he thinks as he continues to cross the room, well - wouldn’t be the first time.

He’ll let himself be selfish. That’s what Ben does.

[daydreamerdrew]

got a tag on one of my posts that shared a quote which described classic Captain Marvel as “always on the law’s side” that was basically ‘he’s a vigilante 🤨’ which surprised me because I’ve never really thought of the Marvel Family as vigilantes before cause that’s a term I associate more with characters that operate outside of what law enforcement wants which really isn’t them

like, when discussing the classic Marvel Family in terms of the messages that they send to readers and the characters’ relationship with the police it’s important to keep in mind that one of the rules from the 1942 code of ethics for Fawcett Comics was:

Policemen, judges, officials, and respected institutions must not be portrayed as stupid or ineffective in such a way as to weaken respect for established authority. Crimes against the law shall never be presented in such a way as to throw sympathy with the crime against law and justice or to inspire others with the desire for imitation.

in the Golden Age both Captain Marvel as a superhero and Billy Batson as a reporter worked closely with police. it wasn’t every issue but Billy could ask cops for information when he was investigating a story, Cap could turn the crooks he catched over to them, and Billy’s radio broadcast could end the issue with an explanation of how the criminal was now in jail or even occasionally that they would receive the death penalty.

I recently posted panels from an issue where a police chief took offense to Billy saying that if a certain gang of criminals wasn’t caught soon that Captain Marvel would go after then, interpreting it as a dig at the cops for not having already caught them, and that issue ends with Cap and the cops all buddies again and them lending Cap a cop uniform so that he can go undercover as a cop at the park the gang is operating at.

in the 90s The Power of Shazam! reboot Captain Marvel still maintained a very positive relationship with local police, whereas Billy Batson had a more negative one. while it wasn’t something too heavily emphasized, Billy was a minor living alone while pretending that he was still in the care of his uncle which meant that authority figures were an obstacle.

however, that mentality did not carry over to Captain Marvel at all. Captain Marvel similarly turned criminals he caught over to the police and there’s even one striking scene where Billy and Mary seemingly witness a man killing someone else in public and Mary goes to react but Billy stops her, saying that he knows the man in question is an undercover cop so he must have a good explanation for all that. the cop in question is actually a recurring character throughout the series.

I can understand the appeal of imaging characters that you like to be anti-cop, but there very much are comics and characters who have actually textually worked with those themes and I think it does a disservice to them. and I’m concerned that it’s ignoring comic books’ history as sending very different messages about police like how the Comics Code Authority initially didn’t allow for criminals to be portrayed sympathetically or cops as to possibly be corrupt. that Fawcett Comics rule I quoted above is very similar to what was policy in the late 50s and 60s for comics in the U.S. broadly. I just think it’s ahistorical to assume that all superheroes have acted as vigilantes outside of the law.

[akillysheel]

TENUOUS. ❜  ( 9 )

Summary:  Cthugha doesn’t find the answers he’s looking for - but he does find solidarity. Warnings:  Discussions of  fictional  racism and  fictional  police corruption. A/N:  I had a hard time writing this  -  until I changed the focus of the chapter entirely.

    Silence.

    It felt like such a long time had passed since it was well and truly quiet.  Cthugha enjoyed the supposed ‘awkwardness’ more than he cared to vocalise.  Why ruin the tranquillity they’d unintentionally fostered between them with words?

    He’d noticed it from the moment Jack had entered the office:  he was the outsider.  He was the pale, sickly, exhausted officer from the corrupt task force that nobody other than his squadmates paid any attention to.  He was the supposed weak link, the blight upon Huron’s spotless reputation… and yet, he was the one that the rifter felt drawn to.  There was a strange, unspoken kinship between them--  an understanding that could be only be reached when two disgruntled misfits shared the same space.

    Still, the quiet had to end at some point  -  if only because Cthugha had questions.

    “So you’re from Vide?”     “Yeah.”

    The Autumn breeze whistled past as the quiet set in once more.  Cthugha tugged his collar away from his neck, uncomfortable in the midst of Huron’s muggy heat.  He’d never responded well to extreme temperatures, north or south of the thermometer, and the relentless humidity of this supposed utopia was no different.

    How perverse is it that this place doesn’t have a Winter?     Like--  how  FUCKED  do ya have to be?!

    “Do you like it there?”

    “No.”   Jack paused to light a cigarette;  brought it to his lips with a frown that could only be described as resigned.  It was almost as if he was silently tempting Death, prompting him forth with every weak inhale he took.  Tired.  So tired.  Tired enough to die.

    “Why not?”   Cthugha asked, his hands pocketed.

    He wasn't sure Jack's subsequent cough was brought on by intolerance to his own habits or surprise.   "Have you been there, kid?"

    "No.  I know some things about it.  Mostly things to do with Huron."   He paused before a thin smile stretched across his face, irritation creasing his brow.   "And don't call me kid.  The first one's free;  then it's a strike."

    "Aren't you supposed to get three shots before a strike?"   Jack asked petulantly.  When all Cthugha did was maintain his annoyed smile  ( grimace ),  he had the sense to let it go.   "... well, it's quite simple:  Vide's fucked up."

    "And Huron's not?"

    "Nah.  If anything it's a little…  too perfect,"   Jack mumbled, scratching the back of his neck with his free hand.   "It's hard to believe there's a breed so nice.  I wanna move here one day.  But it isn't safe for me at the moment."    He was content to leave it there, though when he turned and saw Cthugha's expectant expression, he forced himself to continue.   "The VTF's full of corrupt officers.  Kuro's opening a private investigation against them soon and I agreed to be his middle-man.  Eyes on the inside, y'know?  I've been wanting to cut ties with this shitty force for decades now but to do it safely we'll have to disgrace the current deputies, force them to step down because of public outrage, otherwise they’ll make my life hell and likely jeopardise my job.  Cops from Vide are trouble, and our leaders are the worst;  never turn to the law if you're screwed over there.  You're on your own."

    Cthugha hummed thoughtfully.  It wasn't as if he hadn't heard of institutional corruption before.  If anything, there were more officers that broke the rules than those that enforced them for good, but such was an easy fact to misplace when surrounded by the honest work of the huros.  He wouldn't be surprised if he was to find out that a cop hadn't so much as littered there since the conception of their land.

    "But you're not like them?"   It felt like a strange question to ask  -  like he was hearing an age-old memory repeat from far away.   "What made you realise you were different?  What makes you so ‘awake' in comparison to your peers?"

    "I dunno,"   Jack answered with a callous shrug.   "I guess I just thought that being an officer was more than treating people poorly.  Why even become one if you're not interested in the betterment of others?"   To his dismay, he found that he'd exhausted his cigarette.  Begrudgingly, he held its smoking butt hanging limply between his fingers until they passed a bin.  If he was on Vide soil, he'd have had no qualms about throwing it on the ground.   "... when the Crossover happened--  y'know, the peace treaty between Huron and--"

    "I know."

    "Yeah--  well, I volunteered to be one of the officers they shipped over.  They were kinda suspicious of that, but I just spun some bullshit about wanting to mop the floor with their lacklustre staff.  Part of me believed it was true, I guess.  All I knew was shitty practise.  Why would it be different anywhere else?  But Kuro's been good to me.  Can't argue with that.  He kinda…"   He paused, as if thinking of how best to phrase it, lips pursed in a show of deep contemplation.   "...  reignited my passion for policework, I suppose."

    "Wow,"   the rifter said, a little floored by the sudden excess of praise.   "... I guess I can believe it though.  He does have that effect on people."

    Jack gave him a quizzical look, one eyebrow arched so high that, had he had a fringe of any sort, it would have vanished beneath it.   "What's your deal with him?"

    "Oh look,"   Cthugha said, pointing ahead of him.   "We made it."

    'I don't know.'     'I can't remember.'     'Ain't your window the first forty-eight hours, not the first forty-eight years?'

     "This is like trying to grind down a huro's horns,"   Jack groaned, one hand dragging down his face as he flipped unenthusiastically through his sparse--  and wholly useless-- notes.  When he glanced at Cthugha, he took notice of the crease in his brow with a slight snicker.   "Impossible.”

     "Couldn't ya just say impossible?"

     "Eh.  We've all gotta have fun sometimes."

     That much earned a solitary sniffle of bemusement from the rifter, a finger woven tightly into his hair as he thought.

       I lied.                                          I've done this over and over.                                                                                                                            I'm stuck.

     If he was to be held at gunpoint, he'd admit that he hadn’t thought they’d reveal anything of value there.  Just like every time he’d tried before, there was nothing to garner, nothing new to uncover.  Surely there had to be something he was missing.  The common denominator was always her, of that he was absolutely certain of.  A dark, bottomless hopelessness was beginning to take root in his chest.  It was rather oxymoronic in nature--  how such vast emptiness could be so cumbersome--  but it didn’t stop him from feeling heavy, or sick with worry, or useless.  When he allowed himself to venture into the darkest recesses of his mind, Cthugha could see himself descending into it willingly, the guilt of not being able to do anything sending him swan-diving into the abyss.

    Naturally, he didn’t allow himself to venture there often.

    It was supposed to go differently this time.     This time, you have the help of an entire district.     Of the police.

     Deep down, he knew such expectations were foolish.  They're only people.  They can't pull results out of thin air.

     "... this is frustrating,"    Cthugha admitted, slumping against the nearest wall.  Its stony texture sank into the cotton of his vest uncomfortably, his only distraction being the slight tug at his hair.  Some day you’ll pull it all out, you big dummy.   “I’m--  I’m trying to do the right thing and I always come up short.  It feels like Huron doesn’t want to be saved.”   His fingers curled all the more tight, his scalp beginning to tingle in vague protest.   “... it’s like trying to help someone who’s drowning.  They just take you down with them.”

    It’s like trying to help Max.

    “I mean--  why am I even trying so hard?                                                           Do you know how many times I’ve done this?”

    The frown that Jack wore was sensible, an underlying defeat thinly veiled behind the guise of neutrality.  After a moment, he shook his head, coming to slouch beside him--  not too close, but near enough.   “I don’t know.  Why do you try so hard?”

    “Because.”   In brief hot flashes, a series of memories played on loop in his mind, a myriad of different feelings running rings around his fried nerves:  the rush of flying a CC jet across the cosmos, soaring into a nebulous horizon;  the cooldown after a particularly intense training session, ice cold water in a glass and his brother’s stupid laugh;  being able to befriend the neighbourhood animals whenever he visited new districts, each place’s natives new and exciting in their own way.  There were so many things in The Aphanta Region that he loved too dearly to let go of.  Perhaps it was a selfish motivation--  and maybe it was for the best, because nobody was ever wholly selfless.   “... I love this world.  I don’t want to see it die.  Even the parts of it that I don’t like.”

    “Like?”

    “Like soap operas,”   he said with a groan.   “And quiche.  Like why?”   He paused a moment, a soft snuffle of laughter passing his lips as he stared up into Huron’s canary sky with a wistful glint in his eye.   “... but damn it, I’d watch every damn episode and eat every damn pot if it meant that people could just…  go on enjoying them, ya know?”

    “Hm…”   Jack hummed softly, staring at the other for a few seconds before glancing back at his notes.  He didn’t know Cthugha well, but he’d wholly expected him to cite people as one of the things that he had a distaste for;  it would’ve been perfectly in line with how he viewed him…  and that was precisely why he was glad he’d been wrong.  The reluctant hero was a trope he could identify with in some capacity, but if he was being honest, he’d tired of it decades ago.  His own life was so thoroughly consumed by concepts like rising up, because what else can you do? and I guess ‘okay’ is good enough for me that he found himself drawn to genuine passion far more.  When he looked at the rifter as he spoke, all he could see was adoration--  raw, unadulterated love.   “... well,”   he said, standing up properly, dusting his pants off habitually.   “I think you answered your own question then.”

    Cthugha sighed deeply, nodded a sage nod before raising both hands to his face, slapping both cheeks lightly.   “You’re right.  I don’t have time to be getting all up in arms about quiche right now.”

    “If it makes you feel better, at the rate we’re going, we’ll probably all wind up dead anyway,”   Jack said, a ghost of a smile turning up the corners of his mouth.  Even if he didn’t fully believe in Cthugha’s prophecy, there was good in offering him some support.

    Gracelessly, the rifter snorted.   “Haha--  it does not.”

    “If I’m bein’ honest, I’m surprised both’a y’came back.”   Kuro levelled Jack with a look that was almost apologetic.   “Half expected him t’beat y’t’death.  He’s of that kinda temperament.”

    “It’s nice to know who the cannon fodder is, sir.”

    Kuro squinted, though raised an eyebrow when he heard Cthugha titter beside him.   “Oh, I see.  You two’re tight now, are y’?”

    “Gross,”     Cthugha said with a scoff, hands resting on his hips.   “He wasn’t awful though.  Helped me a great deal, actually.  Ya could learn a thing or two from him--  he’s quiet.”

    “Uh-huh.  Well, can’t say I’m too surprised.  Y’seem like the kinda guy that only gets on with perfectly submissive people.  No back-chat ‘n’ all that.”

    “I don’t mind the back-chat if it amuses me,”   Cthugha retorted with a smirk, noting with some chagrin that Jack was no longer stood beside him.  Damn it, my hype-man’s gone.   “Ya seem extra grumpy today, chief, what gives?”

    “What gives is a sixteen hour shift,”   Kuro groaned, a forefinger and thumb pinching the bridge of his nose a tad too harshly for Cthugha’s comfort.   “... but everythin’s sorted.  I asked Connor some questions, he’s gonna be transported t’a facility in the next couple days.  Dawson’s folks’re also en route once the subway’s back up ‘n’ runnin’.”

    “It’s still down?”

    “Yeah.   It was on the radio--  said the service was cancelled ‘til the followin’ mornin’ fer clean-up.  Apparently that rubble really screwed up a segment’a the tracks.”

    “Huh…”   Cobalt eyes narrowed in consideration.  Actually, hadn’t Kuro said that there had been problems with it before?  And how was Jack going to get home?  Was he going to have to sleep in his office?   “Didn’t ya say there’ve been issues with it for a while now?  Why’s it so…  finicky?”

    “Coffeeeee,”   Kuro moaned before turning and dragging himself to the break room.  By now, the precinct resembled a movie theatre at late-night screenings:  frequented in some shallow fashion, though noticeably more ghostly than it could ever have been in the day.  Cthugha couldn’t say that he minded the quiet;  it was nice to be able to hear himself think for a change.

    Don’t forget to ask about Connor,  he thought idly to himself as he watched Kuro stumble around like a zombie.  Despite his exhaustion, there was a degree of calculation to his movements that the rifter could respect--  it reminded him very much of himself whenever he entered a cockpit.  Just how long had he been working there?  Was he happy doing it?  He certainly didn’t seem it a lot of the time, with his unemotive disposition and his dead eyes, but hell, what did he know about outward emotion?

    “‘s a li’l frail of a system ‘cause it ain’t a real subway,”   the sheriff said, bringing his freshly-brewed cup of coffee to his lips and taking a hearty gulp.   “I mean--  it is in the sense that it exists ‘n’ y’can use it ‘n’ all that, but it was rushed.  It was more a commodity that came with the Crossover--  not somethin’ that arose ‘cause a team’a actual people cared about it ‘n’thought it’d be a good idea.”

    Cthugha squinted, steering around him and filling a mug of his own.   “Surely it’s counterproductive to not make something like that good, though?  That’s like…  making a carnival ride outta cardboard and sticky-tape.”

    “Yup,”   Kuro scoffed.   “But y’gotta understand:  we folks don’t mix.  Never had ‘n’ thought we never would ‘til recent times.  When peace arose between Huron ‘n’ Vide, it was a big deal--  because no other district, at least publicly, ever extended an alliance t’another like that.  People either ignored their neighbours or they actively went t’war with ‘em.  The subway was sort of an olive branch;  a li’l ‘alright, I guess we’ll give y’a way t’work fer us if we can also use it t’work fer you’.”   There was a pause as he took a second helping of his drink, now looking a tad more alert.   “Which is all well ‘n’ good, but it ain’t mean that the people have changed their minds.  Maybe I can go solve cases in Vide fer a while befer comin’ home again, ‘n’ maybe Viders lookin’ fer work can dip their toes into our construction industry or somethin’, but I think there’s still a lot’a resentment from both sides.  Huron’s come a long way, but we have a lot’a racism t’get over still.  Specifically towards Viders”

    “I noticed it,”   Cthugha admitted hesitantly.   “A lady at the market was a real bitch to Jack.  She wouldn’t answer his questions.  She asked him what he knew about ‘’our taskforce’’, as if he wasn’t standing there wearing the uniform, looking for a huro girl.”

    “Heh--  see, that’s the thing,”   Kuro said with a chuckle.   “We can be just as bad.  I admit, historically, Viders’ve been way more hostile t’huros than we have t’them, but y’have t’learn t’bury the hatchet at some point.  How’s ‘peace’ gonna work if yer always holdin’ past transgressions against somebody?  Some huros’ll still jump through fuckin’ hoops just t’say they ain’t racist.  It’s all ‘Oh, actually, we CAN’T be racist t’Viders because they’re the ones who tried t’start wars in the past, we’re within our right t’be zero tolerance with ‘em’, when really they just don’t wanna unlearn their ugly biases.  They want an excuse fer their shitty behaviour--  a shield from the responsibility’a bein’ just as bad as their supposed ‘enemy’.”

    “Pfft.  Man, if ya insist on bein’ a shitty person, at least commit to it.  If the word ‘racist’ makes ya flinch or makes ya angry, maybe that’s a sign that ya shouldn’t behave like that?  At the end of the day, a spade’s a spade.”   And that was a philosophy that he believed in ten-fold, if only because he’d made the conscious decision to do right by people.  He knew better than most that the way one chose to behave was a determined effort.  Even if somebody was a kind person by default, they still got angry, still felt scorn and self-righteous, they simply filed it away better than others.  They’d learned not to take their feelings out on other people.   “... I’m glad you’re not a complete idiot, Kuro.  Ya’ve got a good head on your shoulders.  I could’ve wound up with a much worse temporary partner.”   His lower lip was plush between his fangs as he nibbled on it pensively, his brow furrowing as he debated on whether to continue or not.  First with Connor, now with inclusivity and responsibility...   “... you’re actually a really good person.  It’s really admirable.”

    Almost cartoonishly, the sheriff’s eyebrows shot upwards.  After quietly staring, he snickered, flashing him his rare wolfy smile.   “Man, are the long shifts gettin’ t’y’that much that yer bein’ nice?  Maybe you need some rest.”

    Against his better judgement, Cthugha felt himself chuckling.  For one quiet moment, he felt delightfully comfortable.   “... maybe.”

[opbackgrounds]

Oooh can you do a post on the tenryubito?

So I feel like this is going to be an unpopular opinion, but I pity the Celestial Dragons. 

That isn’t to say that they aren’t all (mostly) abhorrently evil megalomaniacs with  an institutionally enforced god complex who treat the torture of human(oids) with the same blasé disregard as a kid pulling the wings off of a fly, but there’s a part of me that just finds them pathetic. The Celesital Dragons are a group of people who have the world as their silver platter, yet are so small-minded and infantile they literally trap themselves in a tiny bubbles because they’re too scared to breathe the same air as the so-called lesser races.

There was a time when I didn’t think much of the Celestial Dragons because I thought that Oda’s exaggerated storytelling had gone one step too far. They were too cartoonishly evil to be believable—nothing but a bunch of mustache-twirling villains too ridiculous to be taken seriously—and though I found Luffy punching one in the face very cathartic I wasn’t terribly invested in the World Nobility as a worldbuilding element. 

But if there’s something I’ve realized as I’ve gotten older, it’s that there is a depressingly-large number of cartoonishly evil people who through no merit of their own find themselves wielding enormous amounts of power, and the Celestial Dragons are more realistic than I ever thought possible. 

The Dragons are One Piece’s exploration of the idea that power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Eight hundred years is a ridiculously long time to be in control of a single territory, let alone an organization as massive as the World Government. To put it in perspective a little, eight hundred years ago was when the Magna Carta was signed. Even real-world dynasties tend to have major fluctuations in power over the course of generations, but It seems that the World Government—and by extension the Celestial Dragons—have for eight centuries kept an iron hold over what they consider theirs. 

Which just happens to be everything. 

The actual origins of the CD tie into series lore and will probably play a big part in Robin learning about the True History, but I fall in the camp that believes that they originated on the moon because 1) they’re the Celestial Dragons 2) there’s gotta be some significance to Enel’s cover story, and 3) Oda clearly modeled their hairstyles and clothing off of the King and Queen of the Moon from the movie The Adventures of Baron Muchausen

Which, if true, makes them a foreign imperialistic force that used military might and a totalitarian regime that specializes in censorship and terror in order to turn the One Piece world into a giant colony while presenting itself as an egalitarian, unifying coalition where no single ruler is fit to sit on the Empty Throne. 

And to think, there are some people who don’t think One Piece is political.

What’s really fascinating is that most of the rank and file Celestial Dragons don’t seem to realize their own history. Their traditional enemy has become a bedtime story used to scare children, and they’re too preoccupied in their petty games and pleasures to even notice that they’re not really the most powerful people in the world. It’s like their freedom to commit atrocities is the world’s worst example of bread and circuses, because as long as their attention is held by the shiny new slave or fixated on bringing in another tribute then they can’t use their immense power to actually do anything, and for the most part they’re too stupid to realize they’re being used. 

Granted, I’m doing a lot of guesswork here, but we don’t really know where Im and his giant pointy crown fits into all this, or how aware the average Celestial Dragon is of his existence. Is he a world noble? Are the Elder Stars? I personally don’t think the latter are, but is it possible that there’s an even more secret and exclusive group within one of the most secretive and exclusive groups on the planet? And what in the world does the straw hat locked in a freezer have to do with any of it? Was that the treasure Doflamingo used to blackmail the Celestial Dragons into submission, and if so, who did he parlay with during his negotiations? Because I can’t see idiots like Saint Charlos or Mysogard before his character development giving two shits about any of it. Was it CP0, and if so, how much do they understand about the man who sits on the Empty Throne?

What I’m trying to say here, is that there’s a whole lot we don’t know. 

What isn’t guesswork is how little the Celestial Dragons understand about the real world, and this is where I go back to feeling sorry for them. Even the best-intentioned noble we’ve seen so far (Homing) has no idea of what it is to be “human”. 

This mansion is just...comfortable. It’s a downgrade. It’s how Homing thinks normal people live, and he thinks he can just plop his family out in the real world and live a quiet, normal life without blowback from a population that has suffered terribly at the Celestial Dragons hands. His ignorance and naivety, while well-intentioned, is staggering.

Because remember, slavery is technically illegal within the World Government.  Only criminals and people from nations not affiliated can be taken to auction. What initially seems like a kindness turns out to be sending pigs to the slaughter, because what nation wouldn’t react the way this one did once they found out the truth?

Because what the WG (and by extension the CD) have done is punish nations who don’t kowtow to their power in order to fulfill the demand for slaves. Even the bit about criminals is terrifying when this is a world where for some it’s a crime to even be born, to say nothing about the Celestial Dragon’s refusal to obey their own laws if it means they can get what they want, when they want it. 

The whole Homing situation puts a different spin on Doflamingo’s speech during the Marineford War. People who have only known peace can’t understand those who have only known war, and that lack of understanding is what ultimately led to his undoing. 

That’s not to say that the Celestial Dragons are incapable of change on an individual level. One Piece is, ultimately, a very optimistic series, so while I was initially surprised that Saint Mysogard returned during the Reverie chapters as a good guy, upon later reflection it made sense with the points Oda was trying to make during the Fishman Island arc—that if different groups can try to understand one another, they can get along. 

But it took an extraordinary event in almost being killed by his own former slaves and an extraordinary diplomat in Queen Otohime to change the mind of one (1) Celestial Dragon, and it doesn’t look like Saint Mysogard has been able to bring anyone else around to his point of view in the 10 years since he realized he was, in fact, human. And when feel like you’re due everything because you’re a god, why would you want to lower yourself to the position of a lessor being?

 The Celestial Dragons are trained from birth to think of other human(oid) beings as less than animals, where sadism and torture aren’t only encouraged, but celebrated. The system has corrupted to the point where there’s no incentive to change and no oversight to prevent the abuse of power, and with the ability to call the admirals on anyone who pisses them off the average person has no hope of fighting back. It’s difficult to guess how noble the progenitors of the current Celestial Dragons were, but judging by what we know of the Void Century we can guess not very. At the same time, it’s hard to imagine them starting out as the mustache-twirling villains as we see in the current day. The only difference between the Nefertitis and the other kings was one man’s choice to stay with his people. In an alternate universe Vivi could have been a Celestial Dragon.

Now there’s an AU idea.

At the end of the day, the Celestial Dragons play an important role within the One Piece universe, but they are not, by themselves, important to Luffy. He hates their guts and enjoys punching them in the face, but he’s a pirate, not a Revolutionary. The future for One Piece is delightfully opaque, and it’s hard for me to see how the Natural Enemy of God ends up tearing the system to the ground. Will the Straw Hats end up going to space? I don’t know, but there are a lot of people who think it’s at least a possibility.

I personally find them at their most interesting when they’re playing the part of the outside influencer. The Celestial Dragons have only been the direct opponents to the Straw Hats a handful of times, but they’ve played a direct role in the lives of so many other characters—both heroic and villainous—that without them the series could not exist as it currently does. 

And that’s the power of good worldbuilding. I don’t need Luffy to face off against Im to be satisfied with the series. In fact, he was brought in so late that I’ll be a little disappointed if he ends up as the final boss fight. I’m okay with the Revolutionary Army storming Mariejois off-screen, because while those are important players and major chess pieces, that’s never been where Luffy’s focus has been. He’s the man who’s going to become the Pirate King, and until the Celestial Dragons somehow get in the way of that dream he’s not going to bother with them. This lack of focus allows the inherent darkness of the Celestial Dragons not to overshadow the more lighthearted, whimsical aspects of the series. They explore certain themes that are important to One Piece, but the story doesn’t dwell in the mire, and I think it’s all the stronger for it. . 

[the-light-finds-its-way]

Lazarus

Guardians name: Lazarus

Age: Infinite

Race: Jovian

Call signs/alias: The Gloomstalker

Pronouns: He/him

Class: Warlock

Preferred subclass(es): Void

Ghost’s name: Rasmodius

Their Vanguard: Zavala, Ikora, Cayde-6

Fireteam name: Fealty of Light

Fireteam teammates: None yet! He’s still searching for some people who’ll be his friends and join up with him!

Favorite legendary weapon: Twilight Oath

Favorite exotic weapon: Whisper of the Worm

Favorite exotic armor: Karnstein Armlets

Favorite ornament armor set: Steeplechase

Favorite weapon ornament: Eye of Osiris

What stats do they focus on: Recovery, Resilience, Mobility

Are they offense, defence, or support: Offense

Do they prefer being close, mid, or long range: Any and all of them

Do they lean more “Element of Surprise” or “Upfront and Aggressive”: Upfront and aggressive

Strikes, Gambit, or Crucible: Strikes

Who was their mentor(if they had one. If it is a character you created, tell us about them!): Asher Mir

Who are they mentoring(if they are. If it is a character you created, tell us about them!): Nobody at the moment

What ship do they have: A Thousand Wings

What is their Sparrow: Eon Drive

Favorite Ghost shell: Eris Morn shell

Favorite shader: Corrective // Protective

Favorite color: Black

Favorite food: Ramen

Favorite piece of Pre-Collapse tech(if they’ve seen any): The cell phone

Favorite Pre-Collapse music(if they’ve heard any): Amon Amarth

Favorite place in The Last City(if it’s a place you created, give a little description!): The 3rd District. It’s a place where many poor and homeless people live, and Lazarus likes to cook exotic meals and general food for them at every chance he gets. He likes helping give food to those without any.

Favorite NPC(s): Asher Mir, Ikora Rey, Zavala, Cayde-6

Favorite patrol location: Anywhere on the Tangled Shore

5 things your Guardian likes(can be anything): Stoicism, spontaneity, creativity, justice, cooking

Least favorite food: Hamburgers

Least favorite shader: Nailbiter (it’s too colorful for him)

Least favorite patrol location: Anywhere on Titan

Least favorite Pre-Collapse tech(if they’ve seen any): Landlines

Least favorite NPC(s): The Spider, Emperor Calus, Oryx, Savathun

Least favorite weapon ornament: Heretic Robe

Least favorite ornament armor set: Liminal Voyager

Least favorite legendary weapon: Avalanche

Least favorite exotic weapon: The Queenbreaker

Least favorite exotic armor: Transversive Steps

5 things your Guardian dislikes(this can be anything): Stupidity, mistreatment, evil, bad food, negligence

Your Guardian has to rest. What is their living space like: A humble little apartment with minimal things. The walls are painted a dark grey, almost black, and the carpeting is black but soft, and the lighting is low. There are Vex trinkets everywhere, and broken Vex parts scattered about.

Does your Guardian have any casual wear?(Y'all remember Polyvore? The website URSTYLE works very similar if that helps!):

What hobbies and/or skills does you Guardian have: Cooking is his main and only hobby. Specifically, making gourmet meals.

What would your Guardian’s lore book be called: Breadwinner of Stars

Where was your Guardian reborn?(If you created the location, give us a little description!): The Tangled Shore, near a Vex cave

What were they wearing when they were reborn: A button-down black shirt, khakis, black loafers, and a cheap watch

What was their reaction to being reborn: Confusion, loss, and disconnect

What was their reaction to their first rez: Awe. He felt invincible, and everlasting. Immortality comes with no price but the weight of defending the innocent, and he was glad to immediately take on that duty.

After being reborn, did they meet friendlies first or hostiles: Friendlies. Asher Mir found him, and rescued him.

Who was the first other Guardian they met?(Same thing! If you made them, give a little description!): Asher Mir

Did your Guardian get reborn with, or find, any indication of their past life? If so what do they have/found: Lazarus found no indication of his past life besides the clothes he wore. He assumed he came from wealth of some sort, perhaps a high society member of the Jovians, though he’s unsure. He has tried finding out more about his life, but no Jovian recognizes him before he was a Guardian.

How did your Guardian get their name(if they didn’t rez with past life momentos): The cave Lazarus woke up near was a labyrinth, and without knowing the word for it, Laz called the place “a lazarus” instead of labyrinth. Asher laughed, genuinely, and said he’d call the man Lazarus for such a comment. But eventually, both took pride in the name, and it became a strong name with lots of positive meaning to them both.

Going back to your Guardian’s lore book, what would be some some quotes or passages from their book: A lot of recipes, including one on cooking Ahamkara properly. Lots of exploration into the Vex, and adventures to figure out how to cure Asher Mir’s arm and save his teacher. Some quotes would be: “The Light hurt me at first, but eventually, it wasn’t so bad. I adapted it to suit my needs, and made a tool from a weapon against myself.” “Jovians wince at the Light, but me? I will embrace it forevermore. It is a gift unto me, and I will reach my tendrils into eternity to wield it if I must.”

Does your Guardian have a significant other: No

Did your Guardian go explore first before going to The Last City? If so, where to: Lazarus explored the Vex labyrinth, and learned its ins and outs. It took quite some time to get used to it, but his intelligence is high, and thus, Laz learned them faster than Asher could.

What was their reaction to first seeing The Last City: Awe and wonder. It was as beautiful and lively as he’d imagined it being.

Is your Guardian a part of a clan: Mithrax’s House Light

Does your Guardian’s clan have a back story? If so, what is it?(if you want to or able to share): N/A

If your Guardian would have a quote as a flavor text for a weapon and/or piece of armor, what would they be: “Light be with us all, for Darkness is but an inescapable dive into a jaded infinity.”

If your Guardian has had any interactions with any civilians (The Last City/The Farm), Eliksni, Cabal, Vex, Hive, Taken, Scorn, Rouge Lightbearers, or Iron Lords/War Lords(if your Guardian is an Old Light) tell us about it!: Lazarus disagrees heavily with the Iron Lords, and always has. He didn’t like them when they were warlords, and he still disagrees with them to this day. Laz gets along with other races, specifically Eliksni, as they are close neighbors to the Jovians, both living on the Tangled Shore. He saw their Collapse, when they lay siege to The Last City, and felt pity and sympathy for them rather than hating them. Laz has only ever fought Vex, and studied them, and sees them as a bane and plight, since they hurt his teacher. He struggles to trust the Cabal after what they did during the Red War, but he’s slowly trusting them. He doesn’t trust the Hive whatsoever, and disagrees with Darkness as a whole.

Does your Guardian have any unconventional allies or connections(By Vanguard standards): The Eliksni. Lazarus has befriended them long before House Light was a thing, and spent lots of time with them on the Shore.

How does your Guardian feel about themselves or others using Stasis: Horribly. Lazarus does not trust Stasis, as it’s Darkness, and he thinks it’ll corrupt everyone at some point. Some are more resistant to the corruption than others, but everyone who uses Darkness will succumb to it someday.

Did they run The Last Wish raid? How did they react to seeing a live Ahamkara a.k.a Riven: N/A

Did they run The Deep Stone Crypt raid? How did they react to the Crypt and seeing Exo Eliskni: N/A

Is your Guardian from D1? How did they react to seeing Taniks alive once again: Lazarus was shocked beyond measure, and was ready to kill him again to defend the innocent people.

Where did they go and what did they do during The Red War: Lazarus stayed on the sidelines, giving resources to the Lightless, Guardians, everyone, and mainly provided support and healing as necessary. He couldn’t put himself in danger, and advised others to do the same.

Here are some characters that are either polarizing or have created a strong enough mass emotion within the community. What opinion does your Guardian hold on each of them(These are only a handful of characters!)>>>

Osiris, First Warlock Vanguard, originally exiled: Lazarus struggles to trust Osiris, and believe him to be a better person today. He’s well aware of the old, self-centered Osiris with a whole cult, and is dismayed by this man’s sheer selfishness.

Eris Morn, Bane of the Swarm: Awe and amazement at her persistence. Laz admires her deeply.

Cayde-6, Sixth Hunter Vanguard: A young soul, and foolhardy, but a great person nonetheless.

Ikora Rey, Second Warlock Vanguard: Wise, trustworthy, a great friend.

Commander Zavala, Second Titan Vanguard: Someone Laz can confide in, and trust to have his back at all times.

Saint-14, legendary Titan, First Titan Vanguard: A great person, someone with conviction and will, with the best interest of others in mind. Lazarus loves Saint, and trusts him deeply.

Lord Saladin, Iron Banner handler, One of the last remaining Iron Lords: Distaste, hatred, loathing. Lazarus can’t forgive what Saladin did.

Lord Shaxx, Crucible handler, Hero of Twilight Gap, living megaphone: Admiration, aspiration to be like him, and he is proof that anyone can change for the better.

The Crow, New Light, Ex-Enforcer to The Spider: Wary, but willing to give aid and help however he can. Crow isn’t Uldren, and he’s better. Lazarus must constantly remind himself of this.

The Spider, The Shore’s Only Law, founder of “House” Spider: A con artist, and someone to sparingly trust only when absolutely necessary.

Uldren Sov, Prince of the Reef, Master of Crows: Never trust him, never believe him. The man only spews false promises.

Mara Sov, Queen of the Reef, Queen of the Awoken, Ex-Kell of Wolves: Never trusted her, never believed her, and never will. She is a con artist as much as Spider.

Variks, the Loyal, founder of House Judgement: Trusts him, and believes him to be a good person. Lazarus likes that he mistrusts Stasis as much as he does.

Mithrax, the Forsaken, Kell of Light, founder of House Light: Trusts him completely, and believes him to be a savior and the Light of Eliksni.

The Exo Stranger/Elizabeth “Elsie” Bray, Granddaughter of Clovis I and Sister to Ana Bray: Wary to trust her, and hesitant around her. Laz believes someday she’ll succumb to the Darkness, and fall victim to its influence. He pities this day.

Eramis, of House Salvation, Kell of Darkness: A fool, misguided, so desperate and damned. She dug her grave, and she now lays in it.

Empress Caiatl of the Cabal Imperial Empire: Struggles to trust her, but after what she did for Zavala, he’s willing to give her a chance.

Taniks the Scarred, the Perfected, the Abomination, the Shadow Thief: He’s a scourge on everyone, and a threat to be eliminated.

The Darkness is fast approaching. How is your Guardian handling it: Lazarus is ready to fight, and will go against it tooth and nail. He doesn’t hesitate to take things head on, and will do the same against the Darkness. Whatever must be done to protect the innocent, Laz will do it.

And finally, does your Guardian have any advice for any New Lights: Never give in to Darkness, and always walk with the Light.

[tenderlyrenjun]

[1010 A.D.]

“Do you believe in soul mates?” you ask, lackadaisically, dreamily, while readjusting the ceramic pillow beneath a new fabric cover that your loved one retrieved from his latest bureaucratic outing. It is nice to have him back (and the new gifts, too, adorn your villa delightfully, even the ones hidden here in your bedroom, from wandering eyes). Outside your personal chambers, the scholars gather with you, compelled against their will, to indulge your curiosities, and particular student, who you seized from a recently constructed university, revived The Red String of Fate folklore under a new alias: soul mates. You want to hear Renjun’s thoughts on the term, if has has even heard it in passing.

“What are ‘soul mates’?” 

Renjun rolls over in the bed, just as you lift the sheet to join him. Honestly, thank Heaven that your immortal self only requires one night of sleep a month. Leaving your estate unguarded for 8-12 hours of the day is dangerous. Although, months ago, the battlefields healed from the successive, rapid kingdoms popping up every couple of decades. Welcomed peace spreads alongside the rise of education, which is why you and Renjun returned to his home country. Physically seeing a Golden Era circulate the continent gave you two more confidence to re-establish your roots. With your entire coven massacred from rebellions caused by overly ambition vampires and their newborn parasites, the Huang lineage has to counterbalance for the lost political ties and social standing. Fortunately, Renjun’s good looks and charm (and compulsion ability) persuade even the most corrupt aristocrats - which is why he, rather than you, leaves the land every few weeks to reinforce those alliances.

Plus, he does it better: the dirty work. 

You prefer to look at the pretty daggers he brings home and to drink red, warm elixirs poured into pretty bronze jia. Still, you admire his insignia ring on your finger during his extended business hours, counting down the seconds until you have him again. The staff are not as nearly interesting as your lover, especially considering how they gossip with you around the corner. Some call you too bold to manage the house; others say you simply lack manners, faulting Renjun for choosing a mate who was not born of noble status (a mere rumor that you take care of, anytime it emerges). Perhaps, that is why you take solace amongst the scholars, practicing calligraphy and expanding your vocabulary, instead of Confucian traditions. At least it gives you something to talk about with your equal, before you two begin recruiting members again - a lone vampire, in possession of a shielding ability, seems promising (and beneficial, in case of another war). So you slide into bed too, pulling his arm under your neck and extendings your similarly, to support his head while you curl into his side, answering his question:

“The sages call them destined.”

Renjun laughs, throwing his head back onto the comforter. He strokes your shoulder with his thumb, bringing the silk material off your skin, and turns to you with a smile that makes his presence natural and bright. Vampire nature is ectothermic and the beds are uncomfortable (how fleshlings survive them daily, you will never understand, not entirely able to recall your own mortality from centuries ago), but Renjun lives up to his name, enveloping you in a sense of reassurance, especially with how his voice melodizes. His opposite arm comes around, caging in you toward his chest so he can remove the strand of hair covering your eyes.

“I thought they were called ‘Soul Mates’,” Renjun counters. After giving you his signature tender smile, he nuzzles his face in your neck, pressing down a soft kiss. The way he lingers makes you roll your face to the window on the ceiling, North Star glowing a little weaker through the glass, now that he is home, holding you. 

You sigh, contently, hearing it returned, ghosting over your collarbone. “They are, but Soul Mates are supposed to be people who are ideally matched together.” You glance at Renjun, hoping to scan his face for another reaction, but his eyes are closed, lips relaxed, cheek losing control to stay upright: he is falling asleep. And you almost let him, knowing how exhausted he probably is, from all the politics, the new studies, the art and literature. He is participating in so much that he will likely sleep for more than 12-hours this month. Unfortunately, you want him to answer this one question, and over the centuries, since his biggest promise, he always swears to give you whatever your heart desires. So, you prod his beautiful face, physically asking for an response. 

“Mmm,” he whines, the hypnosis faltering enough for him to give you one, though his tired state answers your question with a question - you barely hear him, as he mumbles without opening his mouth too widely. He licks his lips, adding another brief love bite to your collar’s collection, before repeating himself louder, enunciating. “Are you asking if I believe that we are soul mates?” You think that he will indulge your new philosophies, using his statement as a thesis question, but he rolls his cheek further on your chest, tiger hugging your upper body. “Maybe,” he says. It should send worry through your body, were you a new couple, like Doyoung, the now-rather ruthless law enforcer of the Kim family. But you and Renjun have been together for half a millennia at this point, none of the passion ever slowing down. “I don’t believe in soul mates,” he confesses, slugging his words, “but we are naturally perfect together.”

The answer is good enough for you, so you brush back his bangs and kiss the crown of his head. He sighs again, squeezing you into the bed frame. This is how you allow yourself to fall asleep with him: no threats to your country, no threats to your safety, no threats to your relationship.

But ten hours later, you wake up to an empty bed, your lover making quiet noises in the next room over.

So, you go meet him, thinking that he has started brewing an early morning pot of tea, meticulously straining blood in a way that you do not understand. It is nice to just watch him cut lemons, slice ginger, arrange bits of flesh with almonds for garnish. And on the rare occasions, when birds are still writing songs on the rays of sunlight, you try to meet him in the tea room, almost falling asleep on his back all over again because the ambience is so soothing. 

Except, you find Renjun hovering over jewellery in your shared walk-in closet, muttering decisions here and there about packing. An odd decision, truly, considering that you have staff rotating hourly. He only does this during surprises. And you sometimes enjoy his spontaneity. So you quietly relax against the door frame, arms crossed and an amused smile on your lips. In the mornings, each time, after he gets back, even without doing anything that might shame the Moon and Stars (before you disappoint Her counterpart, the Sun and Skies), you feel drunk in love, despite having an empty stomach.

“Where are you going?” you whisper, voice yawning the verbs.

Unexpectedly, Renjun jolts, visibly surprised and shifty, then he turns around. And your expression changes with him. Your eyes dart across his face, scanning through his forehead lines to eyes. You hesitate, always glancing back to his eyes, as a precaution in case he might say something reassuring, but he remains frozen, guarded in front of a backpack that you cannot miss.

To reiterate, you sometimes love his spontaneity.

“I’ll be gone for a few years,” he says, slowly returning to the bag, tossing in extra pieces. He contemplates adding a beautiful necklace on display - the one he had handmade for you during the Jade Era, but he shakes his head. No, he has to leave that for you. This break, his packing, does not equate to all the times when he leaves his insignia for you to wear. Renjun looks at his ring, having taken it back the moment he arrived, when you slipped it onto his hand, like a proposal of your own, even kissing his knuckles tenderly. He sighs; the necklace was a promise, and he will come back to you, after he does what he needs to do. And he really needs to do this. Renjun shakes his head, to correct himself, “A couple decades.”

You frown and your eye twitches. “What?” Realization hits you like a moving carriage, horses trampling over your regenerative rib cage. Renjun walks up to you, one hand balled into a fist and the other carrying his bag. You glance at his hands, unable to truly believe his face, and he passes off his insignia. “Tell me where you’re going.” Your voice cracks. “Please.” You can join him - now or in a few days, if he needs space. Although he was gone for a couple months, you can give him more, give him anything, as long as it doesn’t mean what you think it means. “Because we just talked about Soul Mates last night.”

Renjun slouches, opening his arms to give you a goodbye. “Love -”

“Don’t,” you hiss, sustaining red revived eyes at him - a particularly onyx color surges the veins, something Renjun has never seen in a vampire. “Don’t call me that while you are abandoning me.” His timeframe leaps out at you, the expectancy of a human, and you bite again, anxiety manifesting defensively into frustration. “For a mortal, abandoning our promises.” You point an accusatory finger at him, causing him to step back. “We stood before the Heavens and Skies and gave ourselves to each other by side of the Moon and Stars.” Every enunciated syllable pushes him further into your house, until he drops the bag, a shattering sound aiding the action.  “You belong to me. I belong to you.”

You find the valor to look at him, eyes shining a vibrant red, and you think, just for a second, that he might give in, but when you try to deescalate the situation, thinking that this is just a lapse in his judgement, that you have a chance to make him stay, he speeds out of your arms. That is so unlike last night. And as you relive the memory, you realize that it might have been a goodbye. He had the opportunity to leave and not return, then chose to come back. 

Renjun gingerly steps forward, tucking a hair behind your ear sympathetically, pityingly. “No one belongs to someone else.” It is why you pay your servants, generously. “People are free agents.” He glances at your eyes for the last time, picking up his backpack. “I’m sorry.”

And thirty years later, a decade extra than he intended, Renjun reiterates that plea, in a different context, after his medicinal elixir expired. 

“I’m sorry,” he pleas, imploring you with tears pricking his ducts. He can barely see you seated, alone, on a throne, now that the last remaining valet has been dismissed. Renjun drops his bag, walking toward you with intention, pulling your quiescent face into a series of kisses. When you start moving your arms, he thinks that you concede and slows his lips to give you more dominance. You curl your fingers around his palm, a familiar gesture he has missed - mortals no longer give these types of sweet touches. Renjun comes back down to his heels, having edged to the tip toes in excitement, waiting for your embrace.

But you throw his hand off your cheek.

“Get out.”

“What?”

You know that he picked up your request easily, with his super hearing. Yet he asks you to repeat it anyways. Being amongst humans for so long mush have diminished his powers. You so desperately want to ask how he has been. How he has been excusing his eternal youth? Why has no one heard from him, not even Sicheng? Has he been drinking? You lost sleep over all the questions, for years. Vampires may only need half a day per month, debunking the coffin myth, but you have not fully rested in years. So, you repeat yourself, not bothering to glance at him as you walk away to the throne, back turned to him. “Get out of my manor.” You pick up a dagger, soaking it deeply in a jar full of your special poison. “I will not repeat myself again. If you are not gone by my next meeting -”  An execution. “- you will be my next meeting.”

“Please,” Renjun begs. He has lost too much today. 

The antechamber opens, your newest guard, Xiaojun, signalling your attention. So many vampires live in Renjun’s home, his former home. He knows that power naturally follows the ruthless, in this era, with covens and loners trying to gain ties after seeing displays of authority - either to have your killing machine skills used in their favors or to stay in your favor, avoid being slaughtered. And as you leave with Xiaojun, another two vampire guards drag a muzzled traitor to the throne room. Muffled prayers escalate his headache and he nearly exterminates the vermin himself, but you reenter the room and your prisoner shuts up, the end near. 

You throw a dagger beside Renjun’s thigh. The poison you laced it with seeping into the floor, like a tea. While you have yet to singularly perfect the warm beverage, your venom has been shown incurable - a result you feel most proud in. And you burn the bodies before other covens get the chance to examine your work. No one but your shield needs to know that the poison is brewed from the blood of mortals with incurable illnesses: carcinogenesis, dystrophy, haemophilia, etc. Renjun has heard about your cruelty in the last few years, accumulating your dossier before returned home. Rumors circulate the taverns he worked in, spilling story after story about the monster on Oma Mountain between two warring kingdoms where people kept going missing. The immortal community says that you expect loyalty but want none of it, letting vampires reside in your villa lawlessly. Renjun starts to see the origin, especiallly after you rip out your prisoner’s vocal chords, burning it on steel wool and a high molar acid, before it can reattach and function again. He never truly saw you torture anyone, always ending their executions quickly and quietly. This is his fault. Now, you sadistically entertain their pleas for mercy, waiting for them to beg with everything you leave. 

Renjun lets the choking garble for a few seconds more, then severs the head - all while staring at you. You glare at him, daring him to leave one more time.

“Do you want me to rip out your vocal chords too?”

[ramblings-of-a-mad-cat]

Idk if you’ve already seen this but @missnight0wl made a post about Tulip’s relationship with her parents. Just thought you might be interested seeing how you’re a huge Tulip fan and you’ve talked about her parents too.

Thank you for telling me! I hadn't seen that one and I'm so glad to have found it. Y'all should check it out here because MissNight0wl is amazing, definitely a source of inspiration for me and totally the top analyst of this game and fandom.

Though I vastly appreciate all of the points she brings up and I love the analysis like I always do, I'm not sure I agree. Particularly in light of what we've learned recently, about Tulip's family. That her grandmothers are the only people she feels that she can be herself around, and even in this case, her first instinct is that she must make them proud, it doesn't even occur to her that they don't care about that and just want to spend time with Tulip because they love her. I cannot explain to you how much that broke me.

But because of this...I just don't get the sense that Tulip has ever been shown unconditional love. Sure, she could have mistaken it for something else...but I don't know. I like the interpretation that her parents care about her, but I just don't know if I can see it. Her mentioning that they used to mess around in History of Magic...I mean, Tulip doesn't say that they were the ones who told her this story. For all we know, Mary and Rosa did. I'd say that's more likely. I also don't get the sense that Tulip resents her parents for taking on a dangerous job, though I would love to see that kind of thing explored. She seems to embrace danger. Her complaint was always that they were restrictive and didn't understand her.

Of course, whether or not Tulip's parents are Aurors is another question that has been left up in the air. I always interpreted them as working for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, like where Crouch used to work...but I'll admit, there's no reason that Aurors couldn't be be the kind of strict, lawful to a fault type of people that the Karasus have been implied to be. But the thing is, if they're Aurors, that leaves open many other implications and opens up a different can of worms. First of all, let's address the elephant in the room: Aurors are magical cops. And all cops are bastards. (Except Tonks, she is the one exception, no I don't take constructive criticism.) I'm not saying that Aurors are automatically part of a broken institution because racism has not evolved in exactly the same way for this world. We don't hear anything about Aurors evolving from a "muggle patrol" or any examples of them discriminating against muggle-borns. Still, there's an allegory here that would be pretty difficult to ignore, and I'm not even sure this franchise is planning to fully ignore it. The Crimes of Grindelwald had some surprising social commentary about it.

Either way, I feel like Tulip is the kind of person who would dislike Aurors for a variety of reasons. I don't personally see her ever joining the Ministry, even if she accepts that Tonks wants to. Not even the Department of Mysteries. I believe she'd have as much personal problems with Aurors as Newt, even if her parents weren't part of that office. And then there's another elephant in the room with this head-canon. The Rotfang Theory. We know that R has infiltrated the Ministry and it's long been speculated that if R is Rotfang, that Tulip's parents are involved. If the Rotfang Theory is true, and her parents are indeed Aurors...well, I'm not saying they'd be members, but they would have to be involved in that particular storyline. It could also explain why they've received cursed objects in the past. Like I said, I don't know if the Potterverse is planning on ignoring the unfortunate status of Aurors as magical cops. Obviously, Jam City couldn't have known about George Floyd and everything that has resulted from his murder at the point they planned the skeleton and outline of this game...but it's not like George was the first. If R is truthfully orchestrated by corrupt cops...that would actually be pretty awesome.

Anyway, I just don't think there's enough evidence, personally, that Tulip's parents are good people. Even the fact that she and Merula were drawn to each other is almost a kind of thematic parallel. Though we haven't met any of these parents, I feel like Tulip's family would be a lawful echo of Merula's family. One thing MissNight0wl's post did help me realize though, is that Tulip actually does talk about her parents more often than I thought. Still, it's always distant, and I hesitate to chalk up everything to just "teenage rebellion" Tulip didn't just rebel, she befriended someone like Merula Snyde. She doesn't just play pranks, she actively sought out danger and glory. I don't know how bad her parents are, but this is so much more serious than just them being strict and her acting out because of it.

[k7l4d4]

Blood for Blood: An Owl House Story Chapter 1 Part 4

Here’s part 4! Everybody clap your hands!!

As Luz was whisked back to the tent, and the stand, she had fled earlier, the words of the crazy lady rang through her head. 

‘Customer.’ 

This woman was a saleswoman, and, going by the state of her wares and how she most likely acquired them, probably not a legal one. A soft smile climbed up Luz’s face. Okay, she could work with this. Maybe.

As she was plopped down in front of the stand, Luz finally got a good look at the stand, and it was indeed a huge mishmash of stuff of dubious quality and durability, but the most striking thing was how severely mislabeled some of the things were. 

“NOW!” 

With a jolt, she turned back to the woman, who she was starting to get the hint wasn’t actually crazy, leaning forward expectantly, giving the kind of grin Luz had been told repeatedly never to fully trust when shopping or making a deal. 

“What can I offer a fine specimen such as yourself?” So she knew flattery, good start, but she was laying it on just a shade too thick. “How about a decapitated human foot?” She held up a crock. What? 

“A torture device that forces you to chase it forever?” She plopped a slinky on the table. Again, what? 

“I know, how about a shadow box that reflects only sadness?” She finally brought over a portable mini-TV, like from the 70′s or 80′s. That’s when it struck Luz, as she glanced around at the stand, taking stock of everything in the blink of an eye. 

She literally has no idea what ANY of this stuff is or what it does! While that brought up further questions as to where exactly she was, it also brought up that spirit of adventure and generosity that just wouldn’t disappear.

As Luz couldn’t fight off the soft chuckle, she decided to throw the woman a bone. “That’s not all it can do.” 

Glancing around to refresh her memory, Luz spotted a pair of batteries stored in a bowl labeled ‘Human Candy.’ Shudder. Here’s hoping no one was stupid enough to actually buy something from that particular part of the tent, especially when she spotted both a stick of deodorant and a thumbtack within. 

Grabbing the batteries, and moving before the lady could protest, Luz deftly opened up the TV and slipped the batteries in, watching as a cringy Disco-exercise video started playing, probably whatever was put in last. As the video blared, a crowd of figures rapidly were drawn to the tent, each and every one clambering for the TV, desperate to buy it, and whatever else was available at the now much more interesting market stall.

As bids flew with greater and greater intensity, the lady turned an impressed glance Luz’s way, a slight hint of gratitude in her gaze; business must of been going pretty slow. “What did you say your name was?”

Realizing she and the strange lady had never exchanged names, which would honestly be common sense because, you know, stranger danger and all, but now Luz just felt embarrassed at her own poor manners. “I’m Luz. Luz Noceda.”

Well, Luz,” The woman began, shifting her weight to better move the goods being sold and the funds being received, which Luz noticed were definitely not dollars, “That was pretty impressive. For a human.”

Hello. If that wasn’t a flag, Luz would eat her lucky knife. It might’ve sounded dismissive, but Luz heard the note of interest, and well, she didn’t have anything better to do. Why not play along? 

“That’s a funny thing for another human to say?” Yeah, this lady was definitely no human, but why spoil the fun she was having? Both of them, that is.

“Oh, I’m not like you.” With a dramatic sweep, the woman whipped off her headband, letting her impressive mane of wild grey hair run free, exposing her sharply pointed ears to the world. An elf? Sweet! 

“I am Eda the Owl Lady! The Most Powerful Witch on the Boiling Isles!” Okay, so she was a witch. Even Better! This was like every fantasy she had ever had since taking her first life rolled into one! Or, at least, it felt like it could be. “I am respected. Feared!-”

“Busted!” Before Eda could build up her monologue any further, a pair of massive arms crashed onto the stall, goods flying and customers scattering, screaming about the guards. 

“Eda the Owl Lady, you are under arrest for contraband, illegal potioneering and enchantments, and demonic misdemeanors!” Ooo... witch criminal! No wonder Luz found herself liking her! Welp, better see where this was going. Not that she would drop her guard. Huh, she punned! 

With that thought, Luz quickly palmed one of her knives, ready to spring at a moment’s notice. She grew slightly more agitated at the sight of the guard roughly grabbing Eda by the arm. 

“You are hereby ordered to come with me to the Conformatorium.” And there it was, that name just screamed bad news.

With a harsh jerk of her arm and a scowl, Eda easily broke the larger man’s grip on her. “Would you bozos quit following me? I haven’t done squat!” 

Luz doubted that, but she wasn’t getting any genuinely bad vibes from Eda, so she thought it was safe to say that the charges were either bogus, or blown way out of proportion.

“And you are coming with us..” Say what? The guard leaned over and grabbed Luz by the back of her hoodie. This was a limited edition darn it! 

Steadying herself, Luz, despite not being able to see the face, instantly recognized the type of law enforcement this guard was; corrupt, but not in the way that could be bribed, but the kind that reveled in their power and frequently abused it, seeing themselves as above criminals. 

Yeah, she was gonna make this punk hurt. “... for fraternizing with a criminal.” Yep, corrupt, right on the money.

Seeing how this was going, Luz prepared herself to strike, waiting for the opening she knew in her gut Eda was gonna give her. “Ugh, fine, all right, you win. Just let me get my staff.” 

There it was. As she reached below the Booth, Eda whipped up in a flash, clocking the guard in front of her. Spotting her opportunity, Luz whipped herself on top of the guard’s arm, knife flashing forward, the guard avoided an interesting scar by the skin of his teeth by leaning back in the nick of time. 

As Luz flipped onto the ground, she was quickly scooped up by the overhead Eda, her staff soaring through the air, her stall compressed into an easy to carry sack slung over her shoulder.

Seeing the guards running after them, Luz decided to summarize the situation. “This is crazy. And not the fun kind! My mom is gonna kill me if I die!” 

The amused look Eda sent her way was oddly more comforting than Luz thought it should.

Luz looked down, gazing at the rapidly shifting landscape, idly tracing the environment as Eda replied. “Don’t worry, I won’t let those morons hurt you. A human like you is worth more to me alive than dead!” 

A bolt of fear rushed through Luz, one she quickly tamped down once she realized Eda would have no understanding of the true significance of what she just said.

Still, she had to ask. “Just what is that supposed to-” Any further words were cut off as the Staff and passengers took off into the sky, leaving the guards to curse in frustration, one in particular bemoaning how Eda got away again.

Eda gave an amused snort at the sight of the human girl’s eyes screwed up shut, but she supposed it was natural considering the sudden acceleration. Didn’t mean she wasn’t gonna tease her though. 

“You can open your eyes now, human.” She watched in amusement as the girl’s eyes slowly peaked open, and smirked as the awe at the sight before her came into view. Seeing newbies react to their first taste of the view was always a treat.

As Luz tried to process the sheer bizarre majesty spread out below her, she decided to, once again, summarize her thoughts aloud. “Flying staffs, crazy monsters, YOUR A WITCH!! Just what is this place?”

Eda turns and gives a fierce grin, proudly flashing her gold fang. “This is the Boiling Isles, located in the ever scenic Demon Realm! Every myth your world has is a result of some of our world interacting with some of yours.”

Luz was a little dubious of that, but she wouldn’t start up anything, this was way too awesome to pass up after all. Before she could reply, she caught sight of something overhead. “A griffon!” 

And it was, specifically a griffon with a pigeon head spewing spiders from its mouth. Huh, so that book on griffon breeds was right!

Eda smirked, feeling some measure of Isles Pride at the human’s amazement. “Yep. Griffons, vampires, werewolves, giraffes-”

Luz had to question that one, she knew for a fact that giraffes weren’t a mythological species. “Giraffes?” Noting the shudder and creeped out look Eda got at the mention of the long-necked beasts.

“Yep, we banished them a long time ago. Bunch of freaks.” She muttered the last part, easily climbing off the staff with the ease of long practice, not noticing the hand that popped off.

Luz had some questions there, but nothing pressing. Instead, she gently pried the hand off the staff, presenting it to Eda. “Here. You, uh, dropped this.”

Blinking lightly at how nonchalant the human was being about handling a severed hand, Eda had honestly thought they were wimpier than that, Eda never the less graciously accepted, popping hand back into place. 

“Thanks kid. That tends to happen every so often these days.” Luz filed that away for ‘Things to Ask Later,’ before turning to the impressive home before her. It wasn’t the biggest or most fantastic she had ever seen, but it was definitely one of the most unique and fascinating in appearance.

Turning to Eda, Luz decided beating around the bush. “So. Earlier you said that you had a use for a “human like me.” I am taking that to mean you want something, either or object or a task, but you need a human to actually get it done. And I also assume you are gonna hold that portal door of yours as leverage. Am I right?” 

Luz was a lot of things, but a fool wasn’t one of them. This whole thing smelled shady, but not the kind that she couldn’t get out of.

Eda blinked, both surprised and impressed at just how fast Luz had pieced it together, and how utterly unconcerned she was. It was, frankly, a little scary to the veteran witch how easily the girl was taking this. 

But let it never be said that Eda couldn’t roll with the best of them. “Indeed. Let’s take this inside though, make ourselves comfortable before we get into the nitty gritty.”

With her piece said, Eda took the human up to her house, waiting for Hooty to respond. “Password please!” 

Ugh, that voice of his! Not wanting to deal with this, Eda lightly jabbed Hooty in both eyes, just hard enough to hurt, but not enough for him to be angry. Hooty was an annoying idiot, but he was a loyal and powerful annoying idiot, and it wouldn’t due to endanger that, not to mention she did actually care about the menace. 

“Never mind that Hooty, just let us in!” As Hooty grumblingly did as he was told, Eda noted how Luz never once reacted to the whole exchange. Thist just kept getting more and more interesting, eh?

“Welcome.” Eda intoned, dramatically setting off the lights inside. “The Owl House!” What could she say, she loved dramatics, and she was never gonna be ashamed of it. At least the human looked impressed.

Luz let out a low whistle, taking stock of the beautiful home, cluttered with garbage and knickknacks as it was. “I gotta say, this is a sweet place. I’m assuming the talking door knocker is your security system?” 

Sure, its voice made her want to draw blood, preferably its, but it seemed loyal to her if it let her stab it in the eyes.

Once more blinking at how perspective the human child was, Eda quickly smirked, pleased that she didn’t have to explain as much. 

“Yep. His name’s Hooty, and he’s as loyal as they come. Here, I hide away from the stresses of modern life,” She plopped herself down in one of her comfier chairs, “Also the cops. Also Ex-Boyfriends. HA!” Luz cracked a smile, appreciating how feisty the older witch was.

Taking a sharper look around, Luz admitted it was a very nice place, even with all the stuff cluttering everything. It honestly kept it from feeling to spacious. 

“So, you live out here, all alone?” She was honestly curious, because if anyone could keep up with someone as spicy as the witch in front of her, she wanted to meet them.

Smirking in mischief, Eda decided to have some fun with this, subtly casting some spells that would screw around with the sound and echoes just a bit. 

“Well, I do have a roommate...” With her piece said, Eda turned to the sight of said roommate’s seemingly hulking shadow skulking down the steps, footsteps thudding all the way. She looked at the human out of the corner of her eye, expecting at least some nervousness, and was a little put off that all she saw was excitement. 

This girl really didn’t scare easy, did she?

“Who dares intrude upon I?” As the deep, rasping voice echoed down, the footsteps rattling, shadow hanging across the walls, Luz leaned forward in anticipation of the majesty about to appear before her. Her expectation slowly shifted to confusion, than curiosity, as the steps seemed to get lighter, and the shadow got smaller. 

“The KING OF DEMONS!?” She would not lose control. She would not release her emotions. She would not run over there and hug that adorable little wolf thing for all it was worth. “

QUE LINDO~!” Okay, so she would do all those things.

As she eagerly snuggled the fiercely struggling creature in her arms, Luz couldn’t help but coo. “Whose a widdle guy? Whose a widdle guy? Is it you? Is it you!?” 

Luz idly noticed the face of badly suppressed laughter across Eda’s face, and guessed this was something of a trick on both of them, but she didn’t really care.

“GaH! Stop! I don’t know who your little guy is!?” Still struggling, the tiny demon, still clad in his bath supplies, turned to Eda. “Eda, who is this monster?”

Finally getting her laughter under control, Eda decided to bring the situation back under control. Moving over to Luz, and marveling at how someone so composed could get like this so quickly, she deftly pulled her away from King. 

“This is Luz, the human. She’s here to help us with our... situation.”

At that, the annoyance faded finally, and King cheered. “Oh, hooray!”

Getting herself under control, if only barely, Luz decided to address the situation. “Yep. But if I’m gonna help, I will need some more info to work worth, you understand, right?” No way was she going into this unprepared, whatever it may be.

Eda grinned, excited at the spunk being shown by the human, and decided to get things going. “Alright!” 

With a twirl, she manifested a spell circle, which would detail King’s ‘Story.’ “King here was once a mighty king of demons,” gesturing to the fierce picture in the circle, “before his crown of power was stolen and he became” she turned, and caught sight of Luz snuggling King, an annoyed but resigned expression on his face, “This.”

Luz was having a little trouble believing it, and not just because of how cute King was, but she couldn’t deny she was intrigued. Ah well, better play along and see how this plays out. 

“You mean this bundle of joy!?” She made sure to inject just the right amount of skepticism amid her cooing into her voice.

Eda was amused, feeling that the human was more aware of this whole deal than she let on. Still, she could make this work. 

“The crown is being held by the evil Warden Wrath, kept behind a magical barrier that prevents anything magical from crossing it. And what do you know, we just happen to have a magic-less human right here!” 

She was really glad story time was done, the less she had to talk about that creep Wrath the better. “A human like you. If you help us retrieve the crown, we’ll return you to your realm safe and sound. What do you say?” Feeling she would need a little extra punch, she decided to bring out the big guns: King. “And really, who could say no to this little face?”

King squirmed in outrage; he hated it when Eda tried to weaponize his appearance, it was so demeaning! “No! Please don’t encourage her!” The less time he had to spend in that monster grip, the better, thank you very much!

Luz was far less worried than she probably should be. This whole situation was shady as hell. She was still concerned she might actually BE in hell. But, she couldn’t deny, this was way too fun to stop now! “Where do we gotta go?”

Eda grinned. She knew there was a reason she was liking this kid! “Somewhere super fun!”

Because I am starting to get tired, I’ll upload the last part of chapter 1 tomorrow, peace!

[shararsblog]

BENGALURU - INDIA'S CRIME CAPITAL.

(28/07/2021)

Greetings for the day. Here I am beginning with my first blog or post whatever you can say. To begin with let's straight away come to the point. Many blogs have been written till date, with each blogger expressing his heart and mind on various issues. So I am too putting my heart and soul into a subject, which is present throughout the world, and each country has its own law policy when it comes to dealing with i.e. crime.

Here are my experiences of living in a city based in Karnataka in India for four months. Bangalore or Bengaluru as you can call it, is considered as the IT hub of India, a city from where United States of America sources the highest number of software professionals for working in projects in its own backyard. But apart from being the Information technology hub of India, Bengaluru is also the hub for highest number of crimes, along with New Delhi.

Though I have stayed in Pune too a city in neighbouring Maharashtra state another IT hub, and visited Mumbai which is close by, but never ever had this fear psychosis of happening to see gang wars, because the law and order machinery in Pune, Pimpri - Chinchwad and Mumbai was by far very much in control by police authorities there. So why Bengaluru has become lawless? during my four months of stay there, every morning I happen to open the newspapers and the Bengaluru section showed up at least one or two murders, the result being gang wars. The killers regular criminals and their victims also history sheeter's. These gangsters or rowdies carried on with their killings on the streets of Bengaluru with so much audacity, that they never possessed any fear of law. The recent killing of Joseph Babli who himself a rowdy inside a bank in Koramangala, highlights the brazenness of killers, that Joseph was chased inside the bank, and hacked to death in broad daylight in front of scores of customers and bank employees, goes on to show complete failure of law and order machinery in Bengaluru.

Not just this, another murder of a former corporator Rekha Kadiresh that too in broad daylight in cotton pet area of Bengaluru, was an added feather in hat for an inefficient Bengaluru police. Slaying rivals in daytime in full public view, indulging in rowdism, road rage, harrasing innocent people, chain snatching gangs over bikes on prowl in every area, So where is the Bengaluru police in picture, that is the question?

And why rowdies in Bengaluru have no fear of police?

Bengaluru police and Karnataka politicians are to be blamed for this. The answer here lies in police - criminal - politician nexus. Also you may be surprised to know that Karnataka state ranks top in corruption index in whole of India. Power hungry politicians, greed for money and coupled with it the biggest major factor which has led to rise in goondaism is land deals. Bengaluru city is considered as one of hot cakes for real estate market, land grabbing is rampant and where higher acre's of land is involved for deals corrupt politicians, mafias and police are hand in glove.

Though land is very less available in Bengaluru urban areas and even if available, the prices are skyrocket and rowdies ultimately with blessings of politicians get involved. This rowdies - karnataka politicians nexus have blossomed to such an extent, that middle class families, who despite can afford to own plots at higher prices never dare to get involved. The problem begins from the bottom of organizational hierarchy in police department. The rot is so deeper that for example, say five out of every ten constabulary rank officials within Bengaluru police force, are hand in glove with the rowdies, this relates to daily hafta collection or in simple language extort money through these rowdies from hawkers, bar restaurant owners, share in commission arising out of disputed land deals and many illegal activities done by these rowdies. The buck does not stop here, the Bengaluru traffic police have a set target of collection fixed by every DCPs in their respective zones, so regular office goers either in two wheelers, four wheelers, rickshaws, commercial vehicles face the brunt of hafta collection. What an irony! Never ever in the history of Policing across the world, has there been so much rampant corruption, as has been the case with Bangalore police.

Kamal Pant Bengaluru police chief : completely clueless.

But then whose responsibility is it to discipline the Police?

Karnataka is a state, which has seen two parties struggle for power, back in 2018 Congress - JDS (Janata Dal secular) combine wrestled power from BJP (Bharatiya Janata party) headed by BS Yeddyurappa. Kumaraswamy son of former prime minister Deve Gowda became the chief minister, the BJP despite being the single largest party could not garner the numbers required to form the government. But two years later the tide turned completely in BJP's favour, the biggest drama unfolded in Karnataka, with accusations of horse trading leveled by Congress - JDS combine against BJP. The Kumaraswamy govt was reduced to a minority, and it failed to retain power. The BS Yeddyurappa led BJP stormed to power in Karnataka. Power tussles are nothing new in Indian politics, but the sad part is the lust for power has taken a huge toll on law and order machinery in Bengaluru. The Karnataka politicians already neck deep in corruption, have left the city to rot at the mercy of rowdies. Another major factor for rise in hooliganism is the patronage provided by political parties to rowdies, take any party be it the Congress, the BJP or JDS have rowdies seated at their party offices, the favour these goons do for these political class may vary, it may be anything even getting a cup of tea for the party youth leaders or district incharge, distribution of pamplets during elections many other things and obviously the favour is returned, with blessings of these political parties rowdies have a say, in every tender issued by the Karnataka government, almost 99% of contracts sourced out by the local corporation body of Bengaluru i.e. the Bruhat Bengaluru Mahanagara Palike has been handed over to rowdies, whether related to garbage collection, disposal, road repair contracts etc. When elections are round the corner, the hooliganism is at its peak, these very leaders are accompanied by these rowdies, threatening people who raise their voices, gangwars involving rowdies from rival political parties, if an in-depth analysis is done of the extent of criminals invasion into political parties, shocking as it may sound close to 80% of these so called party workers are rowdy elements. As it is said, the strong basis for students to pass with good marks in school and later to excel in life and become ideal citizens of the country, the onus lies on the principal and teachers and the education imparted in schools getting students to value good culture, respect for one another, and focus on studies. If one or two students fail in all these aspects, the blame can be put on students themselves, but just imagine if the whole class fails, then obviously the principal, the teachers are responsible. So the same applies to the police force of a state as well, the police department is a big school in itself, and the chief minister of the state is the principal and teachers his respective cabinet colleagues, so they are the torch bearers for these law enforcement agencies, and giving them guidance drafting policies is the sole responsibility of chief minister his cabinet colleagues. But here the entire Bengaluru police machinery has failed miserably and politicians governing the state are solely responsible.

BJP has been at the helm of Karnataka for almost two years now, even in these two years chief minister BS Yeddyurappa and his home minister colleague Basavraj Bommai miserably failed to bring crime rate down in Bengaluru. What can you expect from a police force, when the chief minister himself is embroiled in an illegal land deal. The bench of Karnataka high court led by justice Ravi malimath and Micheal Cunha even refused to give him any relief on the matter. Also infighting within the state BJP, and some leaders unhappy with Yeddyurappa's style of functioning has led to the CM busy trying to save his own govt, fighting his detractors, leave development of state at God's mercy and Bengaluru of course at rowdies mercy. And finally infighting within the BJP took its toll, Mr. BS Yeddyurappa resigned from the CMs post. And as usual came the drama with his resignation, an emotional Yeddyurappa in tears thanking Prime minister Modi, Amit Shah and JP Nadda for giving him an opportunity to serve the people of the state. Mr. Yeddyurappa we can understand your emotions but you should have stopped at that, your immature and misleading comment that, "Bengaluru is turning into a world class city" is the biggest Joke of the millennium. The reality is you and your predecessor Mr. Kumaraswamy have turned Bengaluru into a world class gangsters city.

Former Karnataka chief minister BS Yeddyurappa : equally responsible for lawless Bengaluru.

Corruption in police department is not something new and is prevalent across India. Also let me make it clear, not all cops are corrupt, there are a few who put their heart out and perform their duties. Even in Bengaluru police department there are officers at constabulary rank, inspectors, senior inspectors, who have excellent track record in curbing crime and have acted tough against rowdies but there are also a few with questionable track record and it is this few dark sheep within the police that has led to rowdies wrecking havoc in the city. Also this time things really aren't good in Bengaluru at all. Though police chief Pant on his behalf is doing everything thing to bring crime rate down, Bengaluru CCB has siezed a large cache of drugs, several drug peddlers have been nabbed, several rowdies homes have been raided a large cache of weopans recovered, but still the rowdies menace has been increasing in Bengaluru rapidly.

Mr Kamal Pant now you also need to bring the hammer down harder on some of your own men, women within the force, who have links with these rowdies. Cleaning must also be done at home. There was a time when Mumbai city in Maharashtra state, also known as the financial capital of India was under the grip of the underworld gangs in 90s, things had totally spiralled out of control due to gangwars, prominent builders, film personalities, small time business men became victims for refusal to pay extortion and some for links with rival gangs.

It took the combined effort of the Mumbai police who formed hit squads later on called as encounter specialists to eliminate the gangsters. And the credit for completely wiping out the underworld from Mumbai, goes to then Mumbai police commissioner Mr. MN Singh. Bengaluru is facing the same problem today, that Mumbai faced in 90s. And Bengaluru police commissioner Kamal Pant will have to take a leaf from what MN Singh did in Mumbai.

Also political interference in police working has been the biggest problem in India. That police work under political pressure is not a hidden secret. And this has been one of the reasons for rowdy explosion in Bengaluru. Rowdies enjoy political patronage, from all three the Congress, JDS and BJP. In Mumbai the police turned a deaf year to political influence, and took on underworld in a spirited way under guidance of MN Singh. Certainly Bengaluru police go weak in their knees when it comes to politicians, and none but Mr Kamal Pant will have to put his foot down on such interferences, when it comes to dealing with rowdies, even if it means confrontation with a ruling party and also take action against political leaders who are linked to these rowdies. Kamal Pant and Bengaluru police have a long long way to go if they want to rid Bengaluru from gangsters. And I have no doubt at all that things have come to a level where Bengaluru cops have to form a separate hit squad to eliminate the rowdies like Mumbai police did.

Also Bengaluru being an IT hub and one of the cities with higher number of foreign tourists visiting for trips as well as official company work, such lawlessness does not augur well for the city, the image of Bengaluru has already taken a severe beating at international level and it will have severe consequences. Foreign direct investment will be hit, if things don't improve, that day won't be far when other countries start issuing advisory or warning to its citizens to deter from visiting Bengaluru, as it has already happened in New Delhi's case, and if it happens in Bengaluru's case prime minister Narendra Modi's 'ache din' or 'good days' of his promise to citizens of India will be dented beyond repair.

[justgottafinishthischapter]

Building Character: Sorting Hat

So recently on my main channel, I started breaking down different kinds of people you’d find in the four houses of Hogwarts when it dawned on me that this could be a useful character building exercise. So, I’m going to lay out all 48 archetypes that I named and show how this can be used to outline a character.

The Sorting Process:

My method for sorting characters is to lay out all of the archetypes I’ve found in the Hogwarts Houses, and then compare to the traits of my characters and use a score sheet to determine the best sorting for a character. I’ve already made a score card here. Luckily, all four have been given the same number of archetypes, and now it’s time to meet the archetypes.

GRYFFINDOR

The Jock

Bold, confident, adventurous, and boasting a strong quidditch team, it’s no surprise that Gryffindor is viewed as the Jock clique of the four houses. The house values of determination and relentlessness makes for quality athletes. The stereotype of the brainless jock also persists, as Gryffindor is the house most likely to be considered less than impressive in the academic sphere. Jocks also tend to form close-knit bonds with others like them, just as lions move in prides, and Gryffindors tend to behave similarly, preferring to stick with large friend circles of their own kind. This archetype could just as easily be dubbed “The Frat Guy”, but Jock is more gender-inclusive.

The Brat

Time to rip the bandage off. Gryffindor is spoiled and pampered. Between the text itself and the author who wrote it, the general opinions of the fanbase, and the clear bias of the school staff, Gryffindor is painted as the best and favorite house. It hogs most of the spotlight, and there’s even a general consensus that the other houses are all inferior to golden favorite Gryffindor. This sense of self-importance, entitlement, and blatant unfair favoritism can give Gryffindors an unpleasant and arrogant ego. This can lead them to breaking rules, bullying, and belittling other houses due to this innate sense of superiority and impunity.

The Coward

Counter-intuitive as it might seem, cowards actually fit in nicely with Gryffindor. After all, bravery is not the absence of fear, but the willingness to rise above it. The story even frames this as the most noble kind of Gryffindor. Those who act in spite of their fears. Many of the major Gryffindor characters could easily have been in other houses, but instead chose to be brave.

The Champion

When Gryffindor is flavored with Hufflepuff, they can become a champion, someone who fights in the place of others. Someone who fights for those who cannot protect themselves. The Champion can also champion against something, such as fighting against inequality, tyranny, or corruption. They can even fight on their own behalf. This is simply an archetype not afraid to raise a fuss, call people out, and issue a challenge.

The Explorer

The Ravenclaw among Gryffindors, the Explorer is constantly seeking out new things. New places, new friends, new experiences. These are the Gryfindors who fear boredom or getting stale. Life is an adventure, and there’s no point living the same day twice. Even a bad experience is a chance to learn, grow, and explore something that they didn’t know before.

The Diva

The Slytherin variety, the Diva is proud, flamboyant, confident, and ostentatious. Whereas the Slytherin Star archetype chases fame because of ambitions, Divas have powerful personalities that command attention and recognition. Stars perform to rise to power and glory. Divas perform because it makes them happy to pursuit their passions. Even someone who doesn’t perform can still be a diva if they’re dramatic, over-react, and live for that tea. They can be temperamental, flighty, and a bit vain, but they’re made to entertain.

The Risk-Taker

Gryffindors aren’t known for planning head. They’re reckless, headstrong, and fly by the seat of their pants, and the Risk-Taker is no exception. They don’t let rules, traditions, or the risk of repercussions to stop them from doing what they want. They’ll take any dare, climb any mountain, and ignore any safety warning in the pursuit of thrills and adventure.

The Immature

Just as Ravenclaw’s wisdom can make it more mature and responsible, Gryffindor’s tendency to act without thinking about the consequences tends to cause Gryffindors to behave childishly, inappropriately, and stupidly. It’s no surprise that the house that loses points the most for breaking the rules, talking back to teachers, and childish pranks is the house whose values encourage irresponsible behavior.

The Genki

The Japanese subculture of Genki is characterized by an overzealous, energetic, and upbeat personality, one which is usually loud, outgoing, and talkative. They wear their hearts on their sleeve, and speak their mind openly. This zest of lively bubbliness is often viewed as charming and likable, which fits the image of the popular Gryffindor.

The Monarch

Gryffindors are often seen as the house of leaders and heroes. As the king the other houses follow and bow to. Leadership isn’t all just crowns and a fancy office. It involves making tough decisions and having the nerve to push yourself and others forward. The image of “The Good King” enforces the Gryffindor values of leading by example, and that just and moral leadership will produce a just and moral world.

The Popular

It’s no secret that Gryffindor is kind of the house of the Popular kids. Their friendly and social nature makes them people that others want to be around. While the Gryffindor ego can branch this archetype off into the Alpha Bitch and the Jerk Jock, the verdict still stands that the most popular people in Hogwarts are likely a part of this house. Even the house itself shares this popularity, as it is the most liked and often preferred of the four houses.

The Fool

The Prankster. The Class Clown. The Fool is someone who isn’t afraid to push the envelope to get a laugh. Gryffindors are unarguably the most social house, and that desire to impress and bond with others can compel them to stop at nothing to entertain themselves and others through their antics. However, they also tend to get in trouble for this behavior, and they have to be cautious: as sometimes the risk outweighs the humor, only making them a laughing stock, rather than a laugh riot.

HUFFLEPUFF

The Sidekick

Much as it stings, this House is a mass production house for sidekicks and comic relief characters to balance with the typically Gryffindor protagonist. Hufflepuff’s values of loyalty, friendship, and integrity make for very good friend characters. Hufflepuffs as the main character are pretty uncommon, mostly popping up as the support of the team. The healer, the defender, the plucky bard with an inspirational speech. But that loyalty and integrity is truly commendable, as they are some of the most dependable and trustworthy figures.

The Paragon

When “Too Good for This Sinful World” is taken literally, these characters have moral fibers so squeaky clean that they legally cannot say “fuck”. This archetype is the living embodiment of Lawful Good. These are the characters who play by the rules always. Who decry any action that means taking the low road. The Paragon comes in two different flavors depending on the tone. They’re either the one good person who win because they played fair and who people should strive to be like, or they’re the noble idiot walking right into a trap because they’re too naive to realize that they’re the only person playing by the rules.

The Heart

Some people can lie, cheat, and steal. Some are good at pretending they’re a different sort of person. But, not this Hufflepuff Archetype. They feel too often, too strongly, and too genuinely to pull off hiding how they feel. This archetype is a bit of an open book. What you see is what you get. That’s not to say that they never tell a lie, but they’re also more likely to come clean about it sooner or later just to get it off their chest.

The Hero

Although Hufflepuff is mostly a support house, occasionally, they get to play the lead. Most common in Shonen Anime, this Gryffindor/Hufflepuff hybrid archetype fights for what’s right because it’s the right thing to do. Think of this archetype as the White Knight. A crusader against injustice who fights with integrity and does so for the good of the people. They fight because somebody has to. Because they don’t want people to be afraid, alone, or injured. They strive to be a beacon that lights the way in dark times, and gives people something to hope for.

The Councilor

The Ravenclaw hybrid of Hufflepuff house, the Councilor is someone who helps others by listening to their problems and offering advice, guidance, or support in whatever capacity they can. They care about the well-being of others and offer themselves as a trusting confidante. They are gentle and reassuring, having the patience and open-mindedness to help others deal with their issues in a positive and healthy way.

The Entrepreneur

The Slytherin among Hufflepuffs, the Entrepreneur is someone who combines the hard-working work ethic of Hufflepuff with the ambition of Slytherin to be humble business owners. Their distinction from the Slytherin Workaholic is that Slytherins work to climb the corporate ladder. Hufflepuffs work because they love what they do and enjoy doing it. A less leader based sub-archetype is the worker bee, a hard worker who takes pride in doing a good job.

The Knight

The Knight is someone who is devoutly loyal to a cause or person. Their word is binding, and if they say they’re with you, they are with you, for better or worse. This also makes the Knight very easy to turn to the side of evil, as all it takes is swearing their loyalty to an evil person or cause for them to become a crusader for injustice and cruelty.

The Self-Righteous

Another Hufflepuff that can stray into villainy, a Hufflepuff can be a total villain if they mask their villainy behind a facade of being morally virtous.  The Self-Righteous is the embodiment of the religious extremist. Those who commit atrocities in the name of God, King, and Country, even if their God, King, or Country distinctly condemns such behavior. However, because they assume they are fulfilling the desires of something which is intrinsically righteous, that must make them automatically righteous as well.

The Puppy

The cinnamon roll. Sunshine personified. The Puppy is an upbeat optimist that generally sees the good in others. Like a newborn puppy they are excitable, friendly, eager to please, loyal, sweet, and happy. Some might say that they’re too optimistic, crossing the line into naive, gullible, or foolish. But the puppy’s optimism is often backed by a strong conviction and a desire to help that makes them much more resilient and strong-willed than people might assume. They make great friends as they’re always eager to help others in any way that they can, and even when upset with a person will usually look for a nicer way of airing their grievances with people.

The Peacekeeper

The Peacekeeper is someone who strives to help others live harmoniously. They break up fights, help people settle their arguments, and only fights to maintain peace. They are sensitive souls that can’t stand fighting, hostility, or bullying. They just want people to get along, and they’re willing to do what they can to make that happen.

The Caretaker

Hufflepuffs are very aware of other people. They’re the most socially intelligent house. This archetype is composed of those who take care of those around them. They’re the friends who remind others to take their medication, to ask them if they remembered to do their homework, or to make sure they’ve had something to eat. They care about the well-being of others, and will gently nurse, encourage, and support the people that matter to them. However, this archetype can also go so far that it needs itself, putting so much of their attention and time on taking care of others that they need someone to remind them that self-care is also important.

The Mundane

So many people focus on the fact that Hufflepuff is the house of modesty and loyalty that they tend to overlook that the house is also the catch-all house of students who don’t fit into the other three houses. So, this Archetype is for people who aren’t really exceptional in anything. They aren’t brave like Gryffindor, Wise like Ravenclaw, or Cunning like Slytherin. They’re the “normal” or “average” person. Someone who doesn’t come across as being important or impressive. But Helga Hufflepuff saw the value in accepting anyone as long as she had room at her table.

RAVENCLAW

The Nerd

The first thing we think of when we hear Ravenclaw, Nerds are walking encyclopedias with a treasure trove of facts and information. They tend to study because they enjoy learning. For them, school was fun, and the library is an important place. If the burning of the Library of Alexandria angers you, welcome home ya nerd.

The Geek

Nerds know facts, Geeks know pop culture. If you know what year the first issue of Superman comics was written, you’ve found your label. A geek lives for cosplay, fandom, conventions, shipping, fanfiction, and memorabilia. And they are not Nerds. Nerds and Geeks are different, but can overlap. However, you don’t have to know book smarts to be a Geek.

The Bookworm

Not all Ravenclaws are brainiacs. The Bookworm has a love for reading that is not directly tethered to book smarts. For this archetype, reading is a relaxing hobby.  It is often a trait among introverts, especially as a way to decompress, and they also tend be loners who prefer their quiet alone time.

The Valedictorian

Expect this archetype to have the highest grades, to be part of every club or organization, and has probably run for class president. A Ravenclaw with an undercurrent of Slytherin, they are ambitious in their intellectual pursuits. The main thing keeping them out of Slytherin house is their love of learning and knowledge which overshadows their ambition to achieve.

The Advocate

Just as the Valedictorian has elements of Slytherin, the Advocate has elements of Gryffindor. The advocate champions the rights of the underdog, stands up to hypocrisy, and points out logical fallacies in any argument. They hold up the light of truth and knowledge to combat ignorance and prejudice through their insight and knowledge.

The Dreamer

The Hufflepuff among Ravenclaws, The Dreamer is a Ravenclaw who believes in the inherit goodness of the world. These Ravenclaws may be seen as overly optimistic and naive, but this just speaks to Ravenclaw House’s knack for marching to its own beat, and standing out in a way that shows the house’s unique and open-minded world view.

The Scientist

Typically the standard “brain” of a team in fiction, most team brains tend to be nerdy in math and/or science, such as Pidge, Edd, and Entrapta. The Scientist is invested in scientific endeavors. They seek knowledge, but can easily be warped into the Mad Scientist, as characters like Lord Orochimaru, Rick Sanchez, and Shou Tucker cross the moral line as they perform inhuman experiments in pursuit of knowledge. They tend to value logic and the scientific approach, and will seek out evidence and statistics to reach a conclusion.

The Investigator:

Those who thirst for answers, The Investigator’s interest in knowledge is directly impacted by a desire to know and understand more. However, unlike the Scientist that may use this knowledge for personal gain, The Investigator prefers exposing the truth and uncovering the facts. They love cracking codes, solving riddles, unearthing secrets, and exposing the truth.

The Adult:

Ravenclaw is a house associated with wisdom, and with wisdom comes maturity, responsibility, and leadership. Expect these people to be mom friends and dad friends, offering advice, taking care of others, and typically being mature for their age, and wise beyond their years. They behave like an adult, even from an early age. They may get a bad wrap for being boring instead of young and reckless, but they are also sensitive, stable, and trustworthy.

The Creative:

Ravenclaws tend to think outside the box, and that wild imagination and intelligence tends to leak out as writing, painting, dancing, acting, and any other creative endeavor. Even those who lack the talent to be an artist themselves can still fall under this archetype if they appreciate and value the arts and creative acts.

The Unconventional:

Ravenclaw is known for being a little odd. Ravenclaws revel in their unusual eccentricities. They’re fine marching to the beat of their own drum. A bit of a nutty genius, artists like Salvadore Dali, David Bowie, and Mozart are known for being unusual. Entire artistic movements like cubism, avaunt guard, and club kid fashion follow this zany mindset.

The Cloudcuckoolander:

Separate from the Unconventional, the Cloudcuckoolander is someone whose mind is a strange and unusual thing to outsiders. They come off as almost being detached from reality, their head in the clouds, and seeming odd in their mannerisms. People tend to treat them as delusional or crazy, but they show themselves to be strangely insightful into others.

SLYTHERIN

The Mastermind:

Exemplified by a ruthless pursuit of power, the Mastermind treats situations like a game of chess, always plotting to give themselves the upper hand. They are cunning, ruthless, and goal-oriented, usually with an emphasis on control, dominance, and authority. They usually gravitate toward leadership positions and can be very skilled at getting others to comply with their wishes. This archetype is usually seen in villains like Regina Mills, Princess Azula, and Cersei Lannister. However, occasionally, this archetype gets to be seen in a better light with characters such as Daenerys Targaryen. And sometimes it’s played for laughs, such as with Brain and Plankton’s plans for world domination.

The Perfectionist:

This ambitious go-getter is characterized by a strong drive to be exceptional in everything they do. These are the characters who strive for the highest accolades, the top marks, and mastering anything they put their mind to. Often either a cry for validation or as a means to pursue their ambitions, this type of Slytherin is all about standing out by rising above the rest. They are driven by a desire to be their best self, and they’ll work themselves ragged to hold themselves to that high standard.

The Workaholic:

Tangentially related but distinct from the last archetype, the Workaholic is someone who basically treats their entire life like a business or a job. They have a planner loaded to the brim with a schedule that always keeps them moving, and leaves very little time for other things and people unless they can manage to pencil them in somewhere. These ambitious folks are very likely to succeed in life, but their social lives tend to suffer as a result.

The Detective:

Often mistaken for Ravenclaws, or straddling the line as Slytherclaws, The Detective archetype of Slytherin is someone who studies and learns things not for the simple joy of learning as true Ravenclaws do, but more often for the challenge, thrill, or to get what they’re after. This archetype views knowledge as a vital tool and weapon in their endeavors. Even if they enjoy learning, the knowledge they seek out is specifically related to what they are trying to accomplish.

The Tactician:

Like the Detective that teeters on the Ravenclaw line, the Tactician tends to straddle the line with Gryffindor. They can be brave, heroic, and reckless, but this archetype’s main distinction from a Gryffindor is their Slytherin tendencies. Whether they’re ambitious, clever, or strategic, they lack the brute force simplicity of a Gryffindor. A Gryffindor will rush in guns blazing, while a Slytherin knows the value of a sneak attack. Heroes like Percy Jackson, Link, and Katsuki Bakugou make full use of their cunning in the heat of a battle, looking for weakspots, analyzing the battlefield, and always willing to find a pragmatic solution to whatever they come across.

The Sincere:

The archetype to bleed over into Hufflepuff, this archetype is blunt, direct, and doesn’t sugar coat things. They are brutally honest. This can come across as mean and unsympathetic. But, even if it seems like they’re just dumping salt in the wound, it just means that they don’t pretend. They can be depended on to give the whole truth no matter how much it might sting. They might openly mock their friends, but when someone needs them, they can be depended on to give the most genuine feedback. And when things look bleak, this is a friend that can usually be relied on to offer their support. And if someone is too weak or scared to fight for themselves, The Sincere is the kind of friend who’s not afraid to get their hands dirty on someone else’s behalf.

The Charmer:

Ever aware of their public image, the Charmer is a Slytherin whose ambitions are met not through power, but through playing the social game. Experts at winning people over, these Slytherins can be just as ambitious and clever as any other. However, they choose instead to recruit and convince people to follow them and do their bidding with their charms and communication skills. They’re good at arguing their case, and speaking in such a way that people feel compelled to help them. This archetype often masquerades like they’re one of the other houses, especially Hufflepuff. But don’t let their charms fool you. They’re as Slytherin as they come.

The Rebel:

The Rebel is a Slytherin who much like Gryffindors view rules as more of a suggestion than anything else. They’re just trying to have fun and enjoy life, and rules tend to get in the way of that. Often pranksters, couch potatoes, or troublemakers, The Rebel tends to balance between being misunderstood and actual delinquency. However, their rebellious nature can drive them to question old norms and traditions and try to view the world in a new way. Their refusal to bow to old paradigms can mean that Rebel archetypes are champions for change and growth, for better or worse.

The Star:

A primadonna through and through, The Star archetype is one whose ambitions are focused directly on fame. All of their ambition and hard work is all in pursuit of that loftiest goal: the fleeting spotlight of celebrity. Whether they want to take Hollywood by storm, receive a standing ovation at center stage, or go viral on the internet, this archetype is determined to be in the spotlight and make a name for themselves. They can be divas, and may even be competitive with other performers, but it’ll all be worth it when they receive accolades for all of their talent and accomplishments.

The Rogue:

The Black Sheep. The dark knight. The Rogue is the typical anti-hero. Skirting the line between hero and villain, the Rogue is a pragmatist, able and willing to do what needs to be done without letting morality or personal feelings get in the way. Cynical, snarky, mean-spirited, and roguishly charming, the Rogue isn’t quite a bad guy, but being good does not mean being nice. Like The Sincere, The Rogue is unabashedly themselves, and lives earnestly.

The Survivalist:

The Slytherin mindset is one known for being pragmatic. A Slytherin will do what they must to get ahead. The Survivalist embodies this practical approach to problems, being flexible and adapting to situations in order to gain the upper hand. The Survivalist can be someone who survives in the wild, but it can also be someone whose loyalty, opinions, strategy and behaviors can easily change and adapt to new situations in order to thrive. They can thrive in a fast-paced high-stakes situation, and can usually improvise very well should their plans suddenly change. This ability to quickly adapt to circumstances makes this one type of Slytherin that’s hard to knock down.

The Competitor:

Fans of reality shows know that some of the greatest players are also some of the most diabolical and cut-throat. Evel Dick and Danielle were a wicked power duo in Big Brother 8, and Dan got 1st and 2nd in Big Brother 10 and 14 respectively. Slytherin and Gryffindor can both get competitive, but they play in different ways. Slytehrins are far more pragmatic, and have less of a problem lying to someone’s face to get ahead. These tactics, while underhanded, are great game moves. Dan hosting his own funeral in season 14 is still regarded as one of the most brilliant plays in Big Brother history because of how completely he flipped the power in the house. The Competitor can be a total monster, but they also tend to be monstrously entertaining.

Now that I’ve laid out the archetypes, I can start evaluating my characters. Looking over my protagonist, I’m pretty sure he’s a Ravenclaw, but let’s put the character to the sorting hat’s test. My character would fit into: [Gryffindor] -The Monarch [Hufflepuff] - the Heart - the Councilor - the Peacekeeper - the Mundane [Ravenclaw] - the Nerd - the Geek - the Bookworm - the Advocate - the Dreamer - the Adult - the Creative - the Unconventional [Slytherin] - the Perfectionist - the Charmer So this matches what I assumed, that he was a Ravenclaw main, and a Hufflepuff secondary, but I didn’t realize how far he was from being a Gryffindor or Slytherin. So his ratio chart would look like this:

While it’s not hard to sort characters, some aren’t always as clear-cut and I hope this writer’s aid helped you better define your character’s traits.