#everyone just lacks personality or style or everything is too manufactured

[harryforguccy]

I cant believe the last time the celebrity sphere was interesting was the Jason/Olivia/Harry saga that lasted a year and a half

[lets-talk-spirituality]

I would LOVE to hear your thoughts on this article:

https://uproxx.com/pop/harry-styles-harrys-house-review/

I think it’s very harsh but not altogether wrong. There are darker parts to Harry that he doesn’t share, however not every artist should have to make art based on the darkest parts of themselves to be considered iconic. I think there is room for many sentiments in art. I personally like exposing and writing about the absolute darkest shit, but that doesn’t mean that is for everyone. People used to shit on One Direction to me and I always defended it. Is it the most in depth profound music ever? No. But it is really well done and fun manufactured pop and why is that seen as less than.

I don’t agree that Harry’s album makes him out to be squeaky clean and illusory. I think this critic maybe heard it that way since Harry’s reputation proceeds him. I actually think Boyfriends is him owning up to behaviors his younger self engaged in. Just because this critic doesn’t understand the philosophy or sentiment doesn’t mean it’s air headed (in a way yes it is because he’s Aquarius). I really hate this perpetuated idea that he is stupid. Like the whole a movie that’s a movie thing. It deeply pains me because I don’t think people actually understand him. It’s like with queer baiting argument. Ultimately he can’t always clearly articulate his more expansive thoughts to people and that doesn’t make him stupid. I actually think he’s just years ahead and usually that makes you seem stupid or crazy. Pretty sure people thought Galileo thinking the sun was the center of our solar system was stupid and crazy. People judge things they don’t understand. I think later on they may better understand the genius behind him, but Harry is still learning how to show his brilliance in music. I don’t think he’s yet clearly articulated what’s happening in his mind and I think he will only get better.

Also all art is basically redoing what’s been done. All human thought is that too. I think it’s a weird argument to say this music sounds like this other song when it’s like yeah, just like your profound thought you had probably is the same as Aristotle. Everything is recycled. That doesn’t lessen it. It’s part of human existence. There’s so many of us and usually the ones we act like had original thoughts are only the ones privileged enough to write it first, usually due to unfair advantages. White men didn’t have all these profound thoughts before everyone else, they just got recorded in history.

Ultimately I think it’s so hard to truly critique Harry that they resort to a base insult of it lacks substance but just because the substance is obscured in a way you can’t see it doesn’t mean it isn’t there. I’ve never thought his work lacked substance. And ultimately I find constructive criticism to be helpful but not really when it comes to art. The goal of art is to capture points in times, feelings and emotions, abstract things that are expressed every kind of way. I believe everything is art if it speaks to the human experience and to judge it as not human enough is odd because that means you’re placing rules around what it means to be human.

[thelordofdarkreunion]

Magnificent Scoundrels- Of Humans and Demons

It had been quite a while since I’ve came out with a story.  In this, we have the explanation of what is happening in two of the galaxies concerning the shenanigans bringing them all together, as well as the more supernatural side of all of them.  As usual, I do not own anything except Thomas Drake and his universe.  Enjoy the story.   

“Speak softly and carry a big stick.”  -Theodore Roosevelt

Empyrean Iris Galaxy

Rundi Homeworld, Seat of the Galactic Assembly

“Nervous?” 

“Actually, no.  Not really.”

“Figures.  First human to make contact with extraterrestrial life, now the first person to meet the newcomers from these new galaxies.  Nothing fazes you,”  Admiral Kelly sighed.  Admiral Vir, dressed in an immaculately pressed grey uniform, grinned.  

“They said space was the final frontier.  As it turns out, we’ve got eight new galaxies out there.  Life just got a lot more complicated.  But, honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.  More fun!  More exploring!” said Vir.

“It takes all kinds, I suppose.  But you have to deal with briefing the Assembly,” replied Kelly.  “And deal with their possible reactions to the fact that they might not be the top dogs anymore,” she added as an afterthought.

“True,” sighed Vir.  “The worst part of the job, by far.”  A younger human officer stepped into the small, well lit room outside the main council chambers and turned to the Admirals.

“Admiral Vir, sir.  The Assembly is ready.”  He clutched his hands together, nervous to be in the presence of a living legend.  

“Thank you,” replied Vir politely.  He strode forward, only to pause briefly and look back at Kelly with a grin.  “Oh, by the way, Star Wars is real.”

“Wait...what?”  

He walked into the council chambers, radiating an aura of careful calmness.  He looked to the seats where the various delegates from all the different species in the galaxy sat, looking slightly wistfully at the human section, wishing he could be there instead of standing alone at the head of the council.  But, like he had said earlier, it went with the job, and he was the only person to make contact with the denizens of the other galaxies.  He reached the speaker’s podium, and, after the usual useless bureaucratic formalities were made, began.  

“Esteemed members of the Galactic Assembly, I am sure you have noticed that we are no longer the only populated galaxy within this universe.  Approximately a month ago, an extreme anomaly caused nine different galaxies, including our own, from nine separate universes to co-exist in one singular universe.  I come before you today, having met with people from each of the galaxies to brief you on the various governments from these other galaxies, what they are like, and what you should expect.”  He paused for a moment.  Perhaps he had used the word ‘galaxy’ too much in that speech?  No.  He had to be extremely specific, even at the risk of sounding redundant.  “It should be noted that, interestingly enough, humans exist in all of these realities.”  That drew a round of nervous murmerings.  Humans were one of the newest additions to the Assembly, and were by far one of the more powerful and dangerous member races.  Come to think of it, I might be lucky if they don’t start a riot over this, he mused.

“It should also be noted that, coincidentally, several of these new realities share similarities with old human stories.  Should you wish to know more, the appropriate media has been forwarded to you.”

“Now, on to the main briefing.”  Several delegates leaned forward in their seats expectantly.  Notepads, recording devices, or computers were taken from their holding places.  Adam cleared his throat.  “This is what we have deemed Galaxy One…”

And so the briefing went on.  He told them of the people he’d met, gave them the anatomical reports on new species of aliens.  And, most importantly, he told them of their counterparts.  Told them of both the good and the worrying.  

The Galactic Empire: a fracturing, militaristic pro-human superpower that used to rule Galaxy 1.

The New Republic: a pro-democratic group that opposed and overthrew the Empire from Galaxy 1.

The United Federation of Planets: a peaceful yet technologically powerful group where all species were equal in Galaxy 3.  

The Interstellar Manufacturing Corporation: a massive, privately funded mega-corporation that effectively ruled Earth and humanity in Galaxy 7.

The Covenant: a theocratic coalition of aliens dedicated to activating a series of devastating WMD’s in the belief that it would cause their ascension in Galaxy 4.

The Imperium of Man: a theocratic, xenophobic, militaristic pro-human superpower fighting an endless war against all comers in Galaxy 6.  

The list went on, and on, and on.  As each different government was mentioned, a map of their territories, capabilities, species, and symbol flashed on a centrally located holographic projector.  

“Now, the next part is this.  We have received word from the Citadel Council, the reigning government in what we have dubbed Galaxy 5, asking us to come to their capital for peaceful negotiations.  They seem to be extremely similar to our own government, in the sense that they are a galaxy-spanning federation including multiple species.  While I am no diplomat; that would be your area of expertise, the information we have gathered has led us to believe that this government in particular, and two others are the most similar to us and would be the best to ally with.”  The room filled with hushed murmurings.  The Drev delegate spoke up.

“And what is to stop all you humans from ending up like this?  Or this?”  He tapped a button, and the six-spoked circle of the Galactic Empire and the double-headed golden eagle of the Imperium of Man flashed to life on the console.  “As there are humans in all of these galaxies, you could band together and wipe the rest of us out.  What’s to stop you?”  Vir paused for a moment.  

“Because, being human is all about individuality.  We have no collective.  Our societies change all the time throughout history.  It is often not a story of unity.  In the end, a human is whatever it wants to be.  The humans of this new reality are probably just as different to each other as all the other species are.  And, because we are an individualistic species, the chances of us uniting under one banner to conquer not only one but nine different galaxies is not going to happen.”  He looked out at all the different delegates, all the different aliens he had come to appreciate over so long.  “One other thing.  Most humans have a great sense of right and wrong.  Something that many of you have come to appreciate over the time we’ve been in the Assembly, I’m sure.  We know that to take your land, to kill your people, is wrong.  And, as I said before, humans are different.  There are evil and bad humans in this reality; there always have been good ones as well.  The same still applies.  While some of these humans will want to take from you everything, humans like me will always be there to fight by your side against tyranny.”  The room broke into applause.  Sometimes good speeches weren't about grandiose words.  Sometimes they were simply there to get a point across.  And Admiral Adam Vir was a master at that type of speaking.  

He sighed to himself.  No bad.  There wouldn’t be any riots.  Probably.  Hopefully.  He went on with his briefing, pausing slightly to wonder if similar things were happening in the other galaxies...

“I want one simple thing: money.  I will tell you what I want; everyone knows what I want.  But the people you call saviors, the ones who you think will deliver you and raise you up, they want something else.  They want complete and utter control over every aspect of your life.  And when you naive fools put them into power, in a short time you will miss my kind.  But I will be dead, and you will be damned, because you never thought through the consequences of your actions.”  -Martin Crossgrow

Aboard the Apocalypse 

Thomas Drake sat in his quarters.  The room was an odd combination of styles, with austere and sleek metal plating contrasting with the rustic stonework of a large electric fireplace and the handsome woodwork of the furniture.  He sat before a large video screen, barely the width of a piece of paper.  His black hair was immaculate, as always, and his deep blue eyes stared from underneath a brow furrowed with concentration.  His fingers flew across a holographic keyboard, inputting the correct security procedures.  A mesh of invisible, interlocking and ever-changing computer algorithms flashed across the screen.  Good.  Even if someone were to try and break into his ship’s computers, they would not find records of what he was doing.  They could not.  He pressed a few more keys, then waited.  

Waited for one person.  His...sponsor.  For lack of a better word.  The head of the most powerful corporation in his galaxy.  The head of the Guild of Merchants, the corporate oligarchy that ruled the space in between the Galactic Federation and the Empire of Prosium.  Ultra-capitalists to a somewhat disturbing extent, it was they who controlled most of the galaxy’s comperce, built most of the products, and of course, paid the most.  

A series of chimes, repeating the same notes, sounded.  They sounded faster, quicker, humming together, until one long, high, note sang out.  The computer screen flashed from black with lines of green coding to reveal a face.  

It was that of a man, skin pale from never seeing the warm kiss of a sun, pale from never leaving building complexes.  It was old, with receding white hair and skin starting to sag, but the face and the eyes did not betray this age.  They burned with energy, arrogance and contempt.  Not the misplaced arrogance and perceived invincibility of youth, or the kind energy of an honest worker.  No.  These eyes shone with an arrogance of age and assurity, the arrogance of a man who knew with absolute certainty he was better and more powerful than anyone else.  These eyes now turned to Thomas Drake, and took on a new expression.  That of a superior looking on at a trusted subordinate.  

“Captain Drake.  How are you?” spoke the calm voice of Martin Crossgrow.  

“I’m doing well, Mr. Crossgrow,” replied Drake.  

“Wonderful.  Now, what do you have for me?”  

“Information.  As per usual.  Stocks, governments, companies...entities.  In some cases.”  Crossgrow gave an appreciative nod.  

“Excellent.  Your usual fee will be transferred to your account when the information reaches me.”

“Good.  I wanted to warn you, though.  In some of these new realities, there are...things. Things of...supernatural power.  I’m getting you as much information as I can on them, so as to be better prepared if and when confronted.”  At this, Crossgrow laughed, a low, dry, chuckle.  

“I’m not afraid of the supernatural.  If it does exist in these new galaxies, then there are people who will know how to fight it in those galaxies.  And every man has a price.  So if the time comes, I merely must pay that price.  It’s simple.”  Drake said nothing.  He knew it wouldn’t be quite that simple.  But he also knew that disagreeing with the head of the most powerful corporation in the galaxy, and his highest paying employer, was not a wise decision.  

“If that’s how you play it, then that’s how you play it.  But I think I need more information.  Places, organizations with knowledge, information.  That’s what I must find.”  Crossgrow made a harrumph noise in his throat.  

“Well, in the meantime, tell me about the financial side to these new places.”

“Of course.  The biggest threat to the Guild is probably the Interstellar Manufacturing Corporation.  Monopoly.  Rules humanity in one of these other galaxies.  Produces quite powerful and interesting war machines.  I’ve got the schematics for one type.”  This elicited a laugh.

“I’m reasonably sure that you stole that from one of your...what do you call them…” he paused for a moment, then snapped his fingers in realization.  “Ah, Scoundrels!  Didn’t you?”  Drake shrugged.

“Of course.  It’s being sent to you as we speak.  I’ve also got…” he trailed off as he tapped several buttons on his wrist computer.  “Schematics for…” He looked up and grinned.  “Chainsaw swords, plasma swords, rechargeable laser weaponry, jetpack boots, laser weapons that run off of explosive gasses, contractible body armor, high-quality medical gel that heals wounds almost instantly, cybernetic super-soldier armor, three types of personal shields, teleporters, omnitools, so-called ‘phaser weaponry’, two types of power armor, and the blood readouts from biotics, pariahs, and SPARTANs.”  He held up a hand to forestall Crossgrow’s confused look at the last three items on the list.  “It’s all described in the report.”  

“Ah, very good.  Very good, indeed, Captain Drake.”  A slightly amused look crossed Crossgrow’s face.  “Although, won’t your compatriots be upset if they knew you were selling their secrets?”  Drake smiled in response.  

“If they ever found out.”  HIs smile grew wider, and both he and Crossgrow repeated the mantra in perfect synchronization.  “Besides, that’s just.  Good.  Business.”  

“Forget everything you think you know.” -Karl Mordo, upon Dr. Strange’s arrival in Kamar-Taj

Marvel Galaxy

Earth

The New York Sanctum

Doctor Steven Strange was a wizard.  Not “wizard” in the sense that he was extremely good at something, like “technological wizard” or “engineering wizard”, but a literal magic wizard.  Once upon a time, he had been a prestigious surgeon, but that had all ended in the fires of a car crash.  He had traveled the world, trying to heal his broken body, and stumbled on a place that taught actual, real, magic.  

Through a strange series of events, he had mastered these “mystical arts” and become the head of Earth’s sorcerers.  It was his job to defend the planet and all its inhabitants from any and all magic or extra-dimensional threats.  This, of course, was now a particular problem, seeing as eight different realities from different dimensions now existed in the same material universe as his reality did. Now he had eight new galaxies to take care of, and possible threats from all of them to fight.

Wonderful.

He sighed to himself.  Might as well get started.  Get it done with.  Hopefully he didn’t get eaten.  He breathed in, breathed out, his mind calm, tranquil.  His heavy red cloak billowed around him, lifting him in the air as he took a cross-legged position.  One more deep breath.  He drew upon his power, and allowed his mind to roam.  Not freely, of course.  Silently.  His metal defenses were high.  No entities, no beings, could tune onto the small signature he emitted.  It took practice, hours upon hours of it, combined with an innate talent to disguise one’s mental signature so.  

He floated, his mind calm.  Thoughts, emotions, feelings…   Interesting.  They all flitted through his brain, caressing the edges of his mind.  Nothing for now.  He roamed higher.  Opened his mind to beyond his Earth, beyond his reality...and was immediately assaulted, battered, his mind tossed around like a cork upon an ocean.  Travesty, glory, tragedy, celebration, hatred, hope, love, rage…  He wanted to scream.  He did not.  He merely steeled his mental defenses, clamping down on the sanity of his own brain.

He saw...darkness crashing against light.  An eternal battle, observed by one.  Something larger at play.  Something he did not, could not comprehend.  Time began, the beginning played out, a universe expanded.  Light.  Beginning.  Emotion.  Differences.  It reminded him of the principle of yin-yang, but on a much larger scale.  Strange watched the universe, as millions of stars were born and died.  The light encompassed everything.  Shadows, tendrils of darkness, battled it, fought it, sometimes snuffed it out.  The light won when it came forward, burning away the darkness, but if the light failed, gave up, the darkness crept forward to take its place.  The light was passive, in a way, upholding the rules with a code of honor.  The dark was not.  It surged, striking forward, defying the rules and logic itself.  Interesting.  Strange got the feeling that there was something more here at play, something he didn’t know yet.  But it wasn’t a threat.  Yet.  It could wait.  He moved to the next galaxy, the next reality that had been entwined with his.  

Next.  His mind reached out once more.  Now this place...this one was interesting.

It has power.  Not separated from the real world, not some ancient deities having eldritch chess games.  No.  This one had...something different.  An energy field, created from the energy of all living things, surrounding them, binding them, letting some get a taste of its power.  Most interesting indeed.  He went further.  

A field.  A field of ghosts.  Roughly divided in two.  On one side, strength, power, hate, rage, passion.  On the other, peace, knowledge, serenity, harmony.  Two different sides, two different users and practitioners of this energy field.  Different individuals.  No gods.  No demons.  Only mortals.  But powerful ones.  Two in particular stood out.  Both on the side of passion.  A void, a hungry, hungry void encompassing an individual of massive power.  Another, a crackling nimbus of darkness and selfishness.  They did nothing.  But should they break free from this field of ghosts...the consequences...hmmm.  What was this place, even?  A place of the dead?  Reflections of the living?

Strange whirled around as he felt a presence behind him.  Another shade.  But not milling on the field with the others.  This one stood alone.  It was of both sides...but neither.  Light and dark swirled within the figure in perfect harmony.  It walked forward, towards him.  Strange could sense it was, or once was, a human.  It wore stylized armor and a mask under a black, heavy, hooded robe.  It inclined its head in greeting to Strange.  

“What...what are you, exactly?” asked Strange.  The robed figure started out on the field of ghosts.  

“I was once like you, sorcerer.”  The voice was whispery, swirling, ghostly.  Beneath Strange could hear the faint trace of the voice of a dead man.  “A man with a destiny.”  

“Why are you not with the others?” said Strange.  The figure gave the phantom impression of a laugh, then a sigh.  

“I do not walk in the light, for it robs me of the stars.  I do not walk in the dark, for it robs me of my surroundings.  I walk in the twilight, and while both are dulled, I can see the entire picture and walk in balance.”  He turned towards Strange.  “Some say it is between light and dark.  It is not.  You must have balance.  You must have harmony between the two.  There is a war coming, sorcerer.  A war that you must win.  Your power will be with you.  Always.  Remember that.”  The ghost faded into oblivion, and the vision of the field ended.  Odd. The vision was something to meditate on for another day.  After he had the complete picture.  

Next one.  This one had a parallel universe.  A shadowy reflection of the real world, ruled by...something.  The ruler wasn’t human, wasn’t demon or god, it was...something else.  A creature of the shadows.  Formed by them.  Made by them.  This reality was odd, yes, but it had no place in the real world.  It could not come to nor affect the realm he was sworn to protect.  No threats here.  Next.  

No magic here.  Science.  More than anything else.  Fine.  Good, actually.  Less work for him to do.  He was about to turn and leave, when he felt a presence.  Something different.  An ancient being.  Strange blinked, and suddenly found himself in a blank white room.  What?

Staring at him, lounging in a comfortable white chair with a drink in hand, was a man (no, being, he corrected himself) wearing a ridiculous, outlandish, garb of an old school extremely wealthy Renaissance priest.  Okay.  That was a new one.  Personally, he much preferred the man from the other galaxy with his armor and heavy robe.  Whatever.  He was getting sidetracked.  The being grinned at him.  

“Surprised?” it asked.  Strange recovered quickly. 

“No,” he replied.  The being laughed uproariously.  

“He he, yes you are!”  It sipped its drink.  “It is so rare to get guests!”  He turned suddenly, looking around at things that were not there.  “Hmm.  My time is short.  There is much work to be done in little time.  The gods of humanity are outnumbered.  A war is coming.  Heh.  I see someone already told you that.  Yes.  There are forces teaming up.  The darkness is spreading.”  The being leaned closer.  “I usually am not so straight forward, but it is doubtful you’ll see me again, so I must tell you these things now.  Anyway, be prepared.  Have fun.  Try not to die.  That would be bad.”  The being snapped its fingers, and the room disappeared, leaving Strange hovering over the universe once more.  He shook his head.  Usually massively powerful beings did not make odd jokes while inviting him for drinks.  More things to remember, more things to meditate on.  He had to move on.

In two other universes, nothing.  No semblance of any sort of magic or higher beings.  Good.  Nothing to worry about there.  Next.  

No magic here.  Nothing.  But..something was off.  The souls of the dead were...missing.  Nothing here.  Odd.  No matter.  No gods, no demons, no other eldritch beings.  Fine.  Mysteries could be solved on other days.  He had more important things to do.  

He turned his gaze to the last galaxy.  Felt as his mind and spirit floated forward.  Immediately, he recognized this galaxy as two dimensions in one.  Strange.  But today was a day for oddness.  Warily, he crept forward, mentally entering the new galaxy.  

Emotion.  Hate.  Rage.  BLOOD.  Apathy.  Stagnation.  ROT.  Movement.  Hope.  CHANGE.  Lust.  Pain.  EXCESS.  So much.  Too much.  Conflicting ideas.  Dead uncountable, screaming in torment from a sea of souls.  A Great Game, a chess match between beings he didn’t even want to know existed.  And endless war, for billions of years, between factions so powerful he felt as if he were a single grain of sand in an hourglass, a person of such small importance that he could do nothing to change the future that would doom everything.  

He screamed as these emotions, as the chaos of this place engulfed him, clawed at him, threatened to drown him.  He tried to break free, used all of his power to try and get as far away from this place as he could, away from the madness.  He gritted his teeth and focused, focused harder than he ever had, focused harder than the time after the wreck where he could not get his hands from shaking.  He felt as if he were trapped, unable to run as if in a terrible nightmare.  He could feel as creatures, demonic inhabitants of this realm started to notice his presence, started to turn their hungry stares towards him as he struggled even harder, looking for any salvation.  

A light.  Faint, in the darkness.  He rushed towards it, the souls of the damned clawing at his cloak, the demons closing in with the force of an unstoppable tide.  He felt as if he were on a treadmill, unable to go anywhere, stuck in one spot, pursuers closing in.  He felt their hot, foul breath on his back, felt their horrible talons and teeth…

Then, nothing.  He spun.  Nothing.  No pursuers.  No demons.  He fell to his knees, breath coming in gasps.  After he caught his breath, he came to his feet and looked at his surroundings.  He was still in the sea of souls.  Still in this odd, horrible dimension.  But, this part was different.  A blinding, golden light shot up as if from nowhere, keeping the darkness and terror at bay.  What?  How?  He walked forward, surroundings bare, the great golden light making sure that no demons tread here.  As he walked, he felt...something.  

A single voice, screaming through the void.  A soul slit, in utter agony, bruised, beaten, but unbowed.  Strange felt the voice, using his powers to attune himself to it.  It had been in pain for...millennia now.  Pain was a constant companion.  But it would not give into the pain.  Never.  

Strange looked forward.  The beam was being produced by something...no.  Wrong.  Someone.  He shuddered involuntarily.  The sheer power required to produce such a thing, let alone to sustain it…  No wonder the voice was in pain.  Strange looked around again.  He had seen enough.  Knew enough.  Time to go back.  He leapt up, leaving this place, still keeping the light in sight...

When suddenly a being of unfathomable power and incalculable malevolence turned it’s gaze towards him.  He shied away from it.  Now was not the time to trifle with such a thing.  

Time, space, and reality warped around him.  Every color, yet no color swirled.  The being came into focus in front of him.  It was ever-changing, morphing from one form to the next with no pretext.  He hid his eyes.  To stare at it would be to go mad.  It studied him.  Looked at him with amusement, like a child studying insects under a microscope.  Then, it spoke.  Its voice was the worst thing Strange had ever heard.  Constantly changing, echoing like a nightmare into the void around him.  

“The Anathema's pathetic light cannot protect you for long, sorcerer.”  Strange winched, and shielded his face even more.  

“What are you?” he asked in response.  The being laughed.  Strange screamed.  The laugh echoed around him, promising the bending of time and reality as he knew them.  

“Do not ask which creature screams in the night.  Do not question who waits for you in the shadow.  It is my cry that wakes you in the night, and my body that crouches in the shadow.  I am Tzeetch, and you are the puppet that dances to my tune…”  Strange pulled back.  This was out of his league.  He made a motion, and activated his one, final, failsafe.  The locket around his neck opened, and a stone within glowed green.  The being, Tzeetch, grimaced, hissed, and launched at the same time.  

“Oh, ho!  Your pathetic trinket cannot keep you safe for long.  Every time you use your power, every time anyone bends the laws of nature to their own whims, I will be waiting.  Know that I will be watching you and guiding your fate, mortal.”  Strange said nothing.  He could do nothing against such a being.  “Now, go pack to where you came from.”  With a great, ringing, clap, Strange opened his eyes.  He found himself back in New York.  His cloak let him down with a thud on the hardwood floor.  He winced, then stood.  A meeting had to be called.  He just hoped superheroes would be enough to stop whatever came next.  

[Author’s note: For the curious, Tzeetch is pronounced zeen-ch]

I hope you liked it.  While I didn’t want to give you the names of any of the people in Strange’s visions, preferring instead for you to guess for yourselves, the line “I am Tzeentch and you are the puppet that dances to my tune” was just too good to pass up.  I also do hope that you could follow at least some of my ramblings there, but, if you couldn’t, feel free to ask me any questions you may have, along with any comments, criticisms, requests, or concerns.  Wherever you are, I hope you have a great day.  

[kareofbears]

asymmetric styling

“I like the way you dress.”

Akechi looks up from his crossword (one word left, ten letters horizontally) to see Ann waiting for a response.

“What?”

—

read on ao3 or below the cut :) 

“I like the way you dress.”

Akechi looks up from his crossword (one word left, ten letters horizontally) to see Ann waiting for a response.

“What?”

“Your outfits are nice,” she clarifies, nodding at his winter attire. “I like how you present yourself, and the colors you pick. You have a knack for clothes, I think.”

“Okay,” he says for lack of a better response. “Why are you telling me that?”

“Because I want to?”

He sets down his crossword. “Why would you want to?”

Ann stares at him. “Because you have good outfits?”

“Yes, we’ve been over that, but you hate me, so why would you want to compliment me?” If this useless back and forth goes on any further, Akechi’s going to pop a vein.

“I can still hate people and compliment them,” she replies, rolling her eyes. “That’s called high school.”

“This,” he gesticulates at the empty interior of Leblanc. “Is us waiting for the rest of the halfwits and Sumire to show up, and that I’ve apparently been granted the unfortunate lottery ticket of spending alone time with you.”

“I think it’s called a blessing, actually,” she grins. “I’m something of a hoot. A rockstar. A Hollywood badass.”

“A nuisance?” he offers, smiling thinly in return.

“Are you always like this or is it because I’m just too pretty?”

“I feel like this is a trick question from how stupid it sounds, but it’s most definitely not the second one, I promise.” Akechi shrugs off his jacket, and moves to grab his crossword puzzle again. “How about you go back to your phone, and we can go back to the delightful silence we had before?”

Her hand slams down on the newspaper. “I knew it.”

Raising an eyebrow, “Are you about to tell me the final answer to this crossword? Because not only do I legally have to say that you seem like you’ve never attempted a mental aptitude test in your life, but because I’m generally against spoilers.”

“You do like fashion!”

Akechi represses a sigh. “What are you on about?”

“Your jacket,” she points at his brown peacoat. “That was on page thirteen of Vague, the July edition predicting sales on which winter apparel for men will take off later that year. That peacoat was rated number one in Japan and ended up being something like a self-fulfilling prophecy by using their earlier predictions and turned it into sales.”

He scoffs. “Okay, sure. Let’s say that I’m an avid follower of fashion.” Akechi leans forward, and his head tilts in mock-concern. “But doesn’t that mean that you rebuked your own statement? Since this was…what was that? ‘Rated number one in Japan?’ Won’t that mean that everyone would be trying to sell this coat? And it could be a complete coincidence that I have this jacket because it can be replicated in every fast-fashion store in downtown Shibuya?” He gasps. “Oh no, looks like you’re wrong about the very field you think you know the most in! How humiliating.”

Ann leans forward, her smile is wide but her eyes are sharp. “Silly me. I guess I forgot to mention a fact about this specific brand, color, and fabric on the very first day of release: it’s near impossible for manufacturers to try and replicate it.” She tilts her head to mimic him. “Humiliation’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

“Maybe, if I had ever experienced it the way you just did,” he replies pleasantly. “‘Near impossible,’ means statistically difficult, but not quite impossible.”

“Very true, but since that brand is on such high demand, they actually have a foolproof method to fight against fake brands. Perhaps they thought it was a good idea to have a small symbol that can be easily overlooked. Let’s say—” she reaches forward and grabs his coat, grin stretching even further when she points at one of the big brown buttons. “Something like a rabbit engraved on top of the first button?”

Akechi raps his fingers on the table. “Perhaps, but if you had done your research, this brand has two foolproof methods: the rabbit, as you annoyingly mentioned, and the code that you can enter in the website to prove its legitimacy. However, as you may have noticed—” he pinches the label near the collar of the peacoat. “No code. Sorry.”

Ann groans, throwing her hands over her face. “Dammit!”

Letting himself cheer internally, he makes sure the condescension is layered thick in his voice. “Not your fault. You tried your best.”

“Yeah…I’m sure you did.” Blue eyes peek from between her fingers. “Too bad you forgot the cute little fact that four years ago they actually put the code inside of the label.”

His shoulders tense.

“Do you mind flipping it for me, Akechi? Actually, no need,” propping her chin on her palm, he probably could have felt her smugness from three blocks away. “Even if there isn’t, I know that you live and breathe fashion as much as I do.” Her expression turns cheery. “Well, almost as much.”

“Congratulations, you beat me in a game you know you’re more knowledgeable in than I am,” he deadpans. “An outstanding feat. Can you let me finish my puzzle now?”

“I should’ve guessed you were a sore loser,” Ann says, ignoring him. “I still remember when Akira beat you in a round of Tycoon. Your face was stuck like—” she scrunches her eyebrows together and morphs her features into a menacing scowl. “For like four hours afterwards, it was great.”

“He only won because his cards were better than mine.”

“Actually, if I’m not mistaken, the cards you drew were basically as good as his, and you still lost.”

“Oh, I see, you’re trying to be funny. Hilarious. I can hardly breathe, please call an ambulance.” He rubs his temples. “I yield. I’m going to ask you this one last time: What do you want? And no games, I beg of you, you’re going to make my head burst.”

“Killjoy,” she sighs, before straightening up. “You know that we hate you.”

“I think I’m aware, yes.”

“And you hate us—”

“But Sumire doesn’t count,” they both say in unison.

“But you not only hate us, but I’m pretty sure you hate, like, everyone else,” she continues, gesticulating with her hands. “Japan, Asia, the world. I’m sure you have some random vendetta with some guy across the Pacific Ocean. He probably breathed too hard and made one of your hairs move two weeks later.”

“Is there a point to your prattling, or…?”

“I’m getting there,” she gives him an accusing look. “So with all that in mind, why does a guy like you, who would get in a boxing ring with just about anyone on the planet, know so much about something like the fashion industry?” Smoothing down his jacket, “Why do you put so much effort in how you dress when it’s so clear that you don’t care what other people think about you?”

“Is that what you think?”

Ann pauses at his tone. “Am I wrong?”

“No. Not necessarily.” She continues to stare at him, unblinking. “Do you ever learn to back down?”

That makes her grin. “Not in this line of work. If you think I’m bad, you should go a few rounds with Ryuji.”

“Sounds like a nightmare.” If information is the price for temporary silence, then he’s willing to pay the price. Even at the cost of prolonging his crossword. “I didn’t care what other people think about me, but I wanted them to see me in a certain light.”

She squints. “What?”

He finds himself fiddling with the edge of his newspaper. “The very first thing people notice about a person is how they present themself. In their hair, their expression, their posture. But above all that, is the clothes that they wear. The shoes on their feet, the jacket on their back, how expensive their watch is. All that information is melded together in an instant. That split second—” he snaps his fingers. “Is all they need to form an opinion of you. To define you, before you can even open your mouth.”

“I don’t care about fashion,” Akechi admits. “But I cared about what it could do for me. I got to have a say in who I am.” His eyes flicker to her. “Done?”

The look Ann gives him is unreadable. “You’re a liar.”

Akechi leans away, taken aback. “Well, yes, of course. I thought we all knew that by now.”

“You do care about what other people think about you, Akechi,” she accuses, realization dawning on her. “‘Want to see you in a certain light,’ my ass—all you’re doing is shuffling around what your words mean to justify your actions through your thick, annoyingly soft-haired skull. You’re right, you don’t care about fashion, because at the end of the day…” Ann shrugs helplessly, and her words are spoken with something like awe and dismay. “All you care about is how people see you.”

A beat passes. “Wanted.”

“Huh?”

“It’s ‘wanted,’” he corrects, unfazed. “Past tense.”

Ann gives him a hard look. “Correcting me on my grammar, now? Real mature.”

“Only because it changes the meaning of everything you just said.” Akechi reaches over to his jacket’s collar, and flips the label to reveal the code. “Thanks to your reminder, you helped me recall something.” He taps at the seemingly randomized set of numbers in front of him. “This lets you know when you bought the coat. What number is this?”

Reluctantly, she peers at what he’s pointing at. “‘10?’” she says quietly. “October?”

“I bought this about a week before my well-deserved beatdown in Shido’s ship,” he clarifies. “So about four months ago from today.”

“Okay? And?” she urges, still confused.

“And this coat is the newest thing I own.”

“Meaning…?”

“Meaning…” how strange it was, saying this out loud to another person. “That something between Shido’s ship and now, I stopped caring. About up-to-date fashion, about appearances, and especially stopped giving a damn about other people’s perception of me.”

Ann is silent for a moment. “Was it because of what happened in Shido’s ship?” she asks. There’s no trace of superiority or teasing in her tone—only curiosity.

“Could be,” he answers honestly. “Perhaps I realized that there was no need to uphold a specific personality anymore. Perhaps I was just tired after playing that song and dance for as long as I can remember. Bottom line is: I don’t give a single shit about fashion anymore.”

Her lips quirk up, “Even though you got into a fashion pissing contest not five minutes ago?”

“That’s different. I love to win.”

“I can tell,” she breathes out a laugh. After a moment, a thoughtful expression clouds her features. “Can I say something?”

“If I actually had a say in that, we wouldn’t have had this conversation at all.”

“How would you, Akechi Goro, feel about trying to get back into fashion?”

For once, Akechi looks surprised. “Did you not listen to anything I just said?”

Her hands drum on the table eagerly. “Just hear me out. You don’t care about fashion because it sort of, kind of, maybe represents how much you tried to be someone you’re not, which hey, I get that, super relatable, and it’s great that you don’t care about that anymore. But—and give me a chance here—” Ann grins. “Wouldn’t it be more interesting if you wore clothes that you wanted to wear?”

She shifts in her seat, excitement radiating off of her. It’s difficult to watch. “I’ve been studying fashion ever since I could understand the color wheel, and if there’s one thing I learned is that fashion is power. If you make it your own, then,” Ann shrugs. “All the more power to you, right?”

Akechi is struck with silence, and is saved from having to reply when the door to Leblanc swings wide open. An entourage of loud teenagers steamroll into the cafe, all brushing off various amounts of snow from themselves.

“Took you long enough!” Ann yells over her shoulder.

“Sorry for the delay,” Haru answers. She raises her hand to reveal a full plastic bag. “But we got snacks!”

“Takoyaki?”

“Pork kebab.”

She makes a face. “Stop indulging Ryuji!”

“Mm, literally impossible,” Akira replies, combing the snow out of Futaba’s hair.

Akechi sinks back into the booth, waiting for Sumire to walk in and prance by his side, when Ann turns back to him. “By the way, I think it’s ‘asymmetrical.’”

“What is?”

“The last word on your puzzle,” she nods down at his crossword. “‘With two halves, sides, or parts that are not exactly the same in shape or size.’ I read it while I was grabbing your coat.”

“Oh.” He reluctantly scribbles down the answer, lacking the usual enjoyment he gets from finishing a crossword. “…Thanks.”

Somehow, she’s still not done talking. “I heard Akira went shopping with Sumire last week. She came back with the cutest dress I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“I’m aware.” He’s pretty sure he’s compiled enough for a slideshow of it by now, given how many pictures of it Sumire’s sent to him.

She hesitates, before seeming to steel herself. “Wanna go shopping tomorrow?”

Akechi blinks. Twice. He’s about to open his mouth to say no as rudely as possible, when he lets his eyes wander the cramped coffee shop. All of them are in clothes that scream their personality, even if it clashes or has horrible style (he can barely look at Ryuji’s winter outfit without cringing).

But, as terrible as some of them may look, all of them seem content to be in the clothes that they chose.

“Maybe.”

Ann’s smile is bright and genuine. “I can work with a maybe.”

[tardistype221b]

fate doesn't care about money (https://archiveofourown.org/works/26470243) by reigenonice (TardisType221b) and Adonraz

Fandoms: Fugou Keiji: Balance:Unlimited (Anime) 

Rating: Explicit          

Category: M/M          

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply 

Relationships: Kambe Daisuke/Katou Haru 

Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mating Bond, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Mile High Club, True Mates, Alpha Kambe Daisuke, Omega Katou Haru, Slow Burn, Dubious Consent, Anal Fingering, Grinding, What Happened in Hong Kong, Scent Marking, Scenting, Self-Lubrication, Omegaverse Style Sexism, Alternate Universe, Soft Kambe Daisuke, Kambe Daisuke is Whipped Summary: Kambe Daisuke is on top of the world. Rich and handsome he's the world's most eligible alpha bachelor. In a world where alphas rule it all, Daisuke has everything he could ever ask for, except for the one thing he really wants.

His true mate. ~*~ Katou Haru has a secret. One that if revealed would turn his life upside down. He's not a beta like everyone thinks. And in a world with omegas at the bottom of the hierarchy, he'd do anything to keep it secret. That way he can keep his job as a detective, and the freedom he worked so hard for. So when he meets that arrogant Kambe bastard and every part of his instincts cry out for him, he tells them to shut up and moves on with his life.

Until now. ---

Check it out below or read on Ao3

Chapter One: Daisuke Despite whatever Katou seemed to think Daisuke knew that there were things that money couldn't buy, specifically one thing. No matter how much money he threw at the issue it wasn't making the process any faster, the process of finding his true mate. There were billions of people in the world, and the quality of a true mate wasn't something quantifiable something that HEUSC could search for. All the research just stated that he would know once he caught wind of their scent. How ironic that the one thing he wanted was the one thing he couldn't pay for. Daisuke eschewed dating, he didn't want anyone else. Money could not buy love, but it could buy lust, it could buy lies, and those were things that Daisuke didn't want. He didn't need submissive omegas simpering at him, trying to influence him with their pheromones to drag him into their bed. Everyone who wanted to get close to him was only after one thing, and while he was not stingy by any means, Daisuke just for once wanted someone to see past the glamour and glitz of having an unlimited bank balance and want him. He knew that the only person that would ever be able to would be his true mate, the omega that a higher power had bound to him, that would be his perfect match. He hoped.

How long would he have to wait? He was twenty seven already, and this life was lonely.

However, lately things have been looking up. Daisuke looked across the private jet to where Katou was sitting and he could see him seething, fists clenched, back tense, at the fact that Daisuke had deigned to make their trip to the police symposium in Hong Kong comfortable rather than flying commercial. Daisuke shuddered at the mere thought.

Katou was an interesting one, a beta but nothing like the mild mannered way betas usually were. He was a spitfire, challenging Daisuke at every turn. He was one of the only people he knew who turned up his nose at his money which was refreshing even if sometimes it could be infuriating. For a brief moment in the beginning, Daisuke wondered. Could he be...? But no. That was impossible, he had HEUSC scour Haru's records and nothing indicated even a whiff of omega status. He bought scent blockers but most people in his line of work did, when you had to interact with all kinds of people on a daily basis, it was a necessity.

But then wait a minute... What was that scent?

Daisuke watched as Katou quickly got up and walked away to use the facilities, as soon as the seatbelt sign turned off. That strange scent lingered in the air, so very faint that he could barely tell what it was. The only reason he could even notice it was that he had a more sensitive nose than most alphas. It was like something strong was trying to push through Katou’s scent blockers, but that didn’t make any sense either. Katou really was an enigma…

He called the stewardess over for another glass of champagne when he noticed the pill bottle on the floor. It was by Katou’s seat. Daisuke went and picked it up, puzzled at the lack of label on the bottle. He knew he shouldn’t open it, these were probably Katou’s scent blockers. Daisuke knew most people wore patches but maybe he was allergic and took pills instead? He was curious, however, and he let that impulse win. He opened the bottle and let one pill fall into his hand.

“HEUSC, analyze this pill.”

“Yes, Daisuke-sama.”

As HEUSC’s algorithm ran he accepted the glass of champagne from the stewardess and took another sip as he sat down.

“Here are the results Daisuke-sama.” HEUSC said. “Heat Suppressant.”

Daisuke’s eyes widened and he almost spit out his champagne in shock. Thankfully he managed to keep himself together.

“Would you like to know the manufacturer as well?” HEUSC asked.

“No need. HEUSC, would there be any reason for a beta to be taking heat suppressants?” Daisuke questioned. What if there was some other crazy explanation for this?

“No. Heat suppressants are specifically manufactured for omegas, no other secondary gender should take them due to adverse effects.”

Well then. Now there were two possibilities, either Katou had a secret omega partner that no one knew about and he had their heat suppressants, which was very unlikely, or Katou was an omega.

All of his paperwork read beta, Katou’s driver’s license, his file at the Metropolitan Police, even his high school and university records…

But Daisuke could not deny the truth that was in front of him. Katou Haru was an omega, one that had been in hiding for a very long time.

That just made Katou an even bigger enigma, how did he do it? How did he manage to hide for so long? And why? No that was silly, he knew why. Every day, every case, no matter how minor, Daisuke could see his drive, his passion for justice. An omega would never be allowed to be a detective, even in the third rate division that was Modern Crimes. No wonder Katou couldn’t handle shooting that suspect, omegas have very high empathy, their caretaking natures couldn’t help it. That didn’t mean that Katou wasn’t a good detective and that he shouldn’t be one, in fact Daisuke was certain that he was better than all of those alphas from the first division, and it made sense. Katou was an omega… omega’s were good with people, he could get answers and calm criminals and victims with ease.

But wider society didn’t see it that way, to them overall, omegas were weak, meant to be homemakers, and treated as lesser. The most that young Katou Haru would have been able to hope for was a job as a receptionist in the police department. Of course Katou would have rebelled. Daisuke could only imagine it, a young boy wanting to be a detective when he grew up, only for his hopes and dreams to be dashed upon his presentation. He probably had started hiding way back then. How lonely, to keep such a huge secret, to constantly have to look over your shoulder for fear of being found out as an imposter.

He knew Katou hated him, but Daisuke wasn’t cruel. He would keep this to himself. Most importantly, the people that mattered would never find out and Katou would continue to do what he loved.

The thought of Katou being happy put a small smile on Daisuke’s face. He was growing a bit fond of the man he could admit that to himself. It wasn’t often that anyone caught his attention after all, he still didn’t know the names of the rest of the Modern Crimes division.

Then Katou appeared from the bathroom and Daisuke was smacked in the face with his scent. It had grown even stronger, pushing past the scent blockers that he was wearing, thick and heavy with heat. Daisuke gasped in realization. This was the first time, the only time that Katou’s scent was unmuddled enough that Daisuke could really experience it.

Katou…

Katou was…

His mate.

Katou was his mate and he had never told him.

Did he really hate Daisuke that much?

“Kambe-san. Where did the stewardess put my suitcase?” Haru asked.

“Your suitcase - “ Daisuke choked out, trying to answer him. The scent was overwhelming him, calling out to him to go over to Katou, to wrap himself around him and scent him thoroughly, marking him as his. “The stewardess put it in the cargo hold. However, I’m assuming you’re looking for this.” Daisuke held up the pill bottle and he could see Katou’s eyes widen.

“That’s.. My scent blo---” Daisuke cut him off.

“Don’t bother. Your heat has already progressed too far, I can smell your slick from here.” And God did it smell delectable. “And even if I couldn’t, this heat is different from your other ones. But you already knew that didn’t you Katou?” Daisuke accused him with narrowed eyes.

“That’s right. I know why I’m going through this heat right now. I wasn’t careful enough. I didn’t take proper care of myself. I forgot to take my heat suppressants during the days of the stakeout and so my body found it more and more difficult being so close to, well… You. This heat is different because it was a combination of my recklessness and your presence that caused it. This heat is simply a.. Mistake. A big mistake that never should’ve happened. Just like us ever having met in the first place.”

Daisuke couldn’t believe it. “You knew the very first day we met, and yet you never said a word... You allowed me to treat you as if you were no one special, and over time I was finally starting to grow fond of you. You made me question myself Katou, and my loyalty to my true mate, who I would meet one day. Only to find out that that was you all along!”

It hurt. He had been waiting so long for his mate, only to be rejected like this. What a curse this balance was, what was the point of it when he couldn’t buy what he truly wanted? What was the point of it when it pushed his mate away?

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could tell, even if I couldn’t scent you I always knew something was different about you. You were the one person who didn’t care. Didn’t care about my money and status. You treated me like I was normal, you were everything I wanted in a mate and more. And now…” Daisuke trailed off.

“I knew from the very first moment I met you. As soon as you stepped out of your car, I knew. Your scent was impossible to ignore. But… You know what else also was impossible to ignore? It was the fact that all you are is just a rich, asshole alpha. Thinking you could solve everything with just your shitty money while throwing any morals out the window… Pathetic.” Haru sneered down at him, and grabbed his tie, pulling him up, closer to him.

So close… Haru was so close to him. His scent surrounded Daisuke like a cloud, the stale airplane air preventing it from dissipating. He was drowning in it, the scent of what Daisuke thought home would always smell like, along with the spice of Haru’s heat. His tie was being held in a vice grip by Haru’s trembling hands, preventing him from moving.

“I allowed you to treat me as if I were no one special because I’m not planning to ever become someone special to you.” Haru asserted. “Boohoo, Kambe. You don’t get to have your own, personal sex slave assigned by fate, like all the other alphas. I’ve defied fate before and I will do it again. If you want to take some omega’s freedom away, then use your money to find someone who willingly will take that role. I will not submit to you just because you’re telling me some pretty, little lies about how you care for me. I’ve fought hard for the life I’m leading, I’m not letting you take it away from me.”

Despite being an omega, Haru was no waif, and his strength was clear in this moment. It was hard to think when looking at Haru’s flushed face only a few inches from his, so full of emotion. Then he finally processed what Haru said. A sex slave? What kind of person did he think Daisuke was? An alpha that thought only with his knot? There were plenty of alphas that were sexist brutes but surely, despite their differences involving money, Haru could see that Daisuke wasn’t anything like those scum of the earth!

If not, then Daisuke would have to show him.

He knew that he always acted cold and aloof, being who he was, a member of the elite Kambe family, required him to put up walls, to be careful around others. But Haru wasn’t just anyone. That had to end now.

He reached forward and grabbed Haru’s hand, managing to coax it free from his tie, and kissed it ever so gently. And now what? This was his shot, his only shot. He had to say something. Haru needed him, Daisuke couldn’t let him suffer through his heat alone, no matter how stubborn he was.

“Please will you accept me, at least for now? I don’t want you to suffer alone.”

He never begged for anyone. But he had a feeling that with Haru he would be doing a lot of things he never had before.

[technopathic-gem]

Why Chloe Bourgeois Should Have Been Redeemed

Oh, am I really about to talk about the most controversial arc of Miraculous Ladybug?

Yep, so strap in. This is gonna be a long one.

Now, I will say that everything that I am going to say in this post is not only information that I learned in my time as a psychology major in college…but it is also the culmination of talking to multiple individuals who are dealing or have dealt with forms of childhood neglect and/or abuse.

Okay, now we all know that Chloe Bourgeois is definitely no saint, but she definitely is not completely unredeemable as some people have alluded to. (You know the one.)

It is monumentally clear to me, as someone who has studied and written multiple papers on this subject, that Chloe is 100% a victim of childhood emotional neglect and abuse.

Now, what is that exactly? Well…

Childhood emotional neglect is the failure of parents or caregivers to respond to a child’s emotional needs. Childhood emotional abuse happens when a child is repeatedly made to feel worthless, unloved, alone or scared. This includes, but isn’t limited to:

Continually ignoring or rejecting a child

Audrey being completely unavailable to Chloe until she arrives in Paris in “Style Queen”

“I’ve never been to New York with you, and now you’re taking Marinette Dupain-Cheng?!” — Chloe, Queen Wasp

Constantly criticizing, humiliating, or blaming a child

“She always was such a show-off”, “What? Regarding my daughter’s ineptitude?”, “Chloe just clearly demonstrated that there is nothing exceptional about her.” — Audrey, Queen Wasp

Withholding love, praise, support, or attention from a child

“It’s not her fault, okay? Chloe just doesn’t like birthdays. She never remembers them, just like her mom.” — Sabrina, Zombizou

Telling a child that they’re worthless, unloved, or not enough

“The only thing exceptional about you, my dear, is your mother.” — Audrey, Queen Wasp

This is just to name a few, there are many more examples. Now, what can all of this do to a child mentally? Well…

1.   They may have demanding behavior

2.   They may try too hard to please their parents and/or their peers

3.   They may fail to connect with others

4.   They may appear uncaring or indifferent

5.   They may withdraw from friends or group activities

6.   They may shun emotional closeness or intimacy

7.   They may often display aggression or anger

All of these seem like textbook behaviors for Chloe, don’t they? Now, this is in no way excusing her behavior, but it does explain it. This may also be why her father, Andre, acts the way he does. Audrey seems to be emotionally abusive toward Andre as well, and he can clearly see that Audrey is abusive to Chloe and tries to get her to be easier on their daughter.

She clearly doesn’t let up…so Andre gives Chloe whatever she wants and showers her in praise.

This is very common in situations where only one parent is emotionally abusive to a child and the other is not. The more caring parent overcompensates in response to the lack of/negative attention that the abusive parent gives.

Andre treats Chloe like a princess to make up for Audrey treating Chloe like a pauper. It’s no wonder that Andre got akumatized when he learned that Chloe would be leaving with Audrey. Would you want your child to be in a harmful setting 24/7?

But, speaking as someone who was in the exact same situation, no amount of positive reinforcement from one parent can make up for the constant teardowns you get from the other parent. Chloe looks up to her mother, acts just like her, imitates the way she walks. None of it works. Chloe isn’t sure what else she can do to make her mother notice her, to get her approval. So…she asks.

Chloe asks her mother point blank “Why don’t you love me?” This question implies so many others that go unasked: “What am I doing wrong?” “What can I do better?” “What is wrong with me?” “Am I not good enough?”

Look at her face. She looks she’s trying to do everything she can to keep from crying as she asks.

Chloe Bourgeois is arrogant, confident, and egotistical. This…This is Chloe. A girl who puts on a front, a girl who manufactures her high self-esteem…

A girl who was told that she wasn’t good enough time and time again…by someone she loves and looks up to…and wants to do everything she can to keep herself from hearing it from someone else.

So why am I saying that Chloe should have been redeemed? Easy.

To demonstrate to viewers that it is possible to break the cycle of abuse; and, that, in some instances, you can make an abuser see the error of their ways. Keep in mind, that the ML writers are showing that with another character: Adrien Agreste.

Gabriel Agreste emotionally neglects his son and has been doing so for about a year, if we assume that Gabriel’s neglectful behavior was tied to his wife’s ‘disappearance’.

Gabriel Agreste is withdrawn, manipulative, and cold in almost every instance we see him in.

Adrien Agreste, however, is kind, caring, sympathetic, and helpful in almost every instance we see him in.

Is Adrien a perfect character? No, he definitely has his flaws.

Is Adrien a better person than his father? Yes.

They could have done this parallel with Chloe. Hell, this could have been a thing that Chloe and Adrien could have bonded over since they are supposed to be childhood friends!

The writers started to sow the seeds of this concept in Queen Wasp, the main episode in which we see Audrey emotionally abusing Chloe. When all is said and done, they show that Chloe is remorseful and that she knows what she did was wrong.

So, Chloe isn’t as horrible as she seems. She knows right from wrong. She wanted a second chance. She wanted to be better…to be exceptional.

The writers could have given her a chance. Go back to that heart-wrenching conversation Chloe begins with her mother.

All of us know that, in canon, this conversation doesn’t demonstrate growth at all. Marinette tells Audrey that Chloe is exceptionally mean. Chloe tells her mother all the horrible stuff that she does to everyone. Chloe and Audrey bond over being horrible. End of episode.

This could have been a really good lesson…if you took the time to dig a bit deeper. Start with the same exact line:

Chloe: Why don’t you love me, mom?

Audrey: O-Of course I l-love you.

In the episode, Marinette butts in here. Instead, keep her quiet for now. Let Chloe be vulnerable, let her say how she feels.

Chloe: Well, it doesn’t really feel like it. I try so hard to be someone you can be proud of. I try so hard to please you…I try so hard to be you…But it never seems to be enough. You’re never around, mom. And if you are, it might as well be that you aren’t because I feel like I’m invisible. You can’t even remember my name. What can I do better? How can I be exceptional?

This could, potentially, be where Audrey realizes how she treats her daughter. She shouldn’t be treating her daughter like an underling if she really does love her. This can also be where Marinette actually helps to forward the conversation. She can recall moments where Chloe actually did try to help and to be a better person. Like when she sacrificed herself in Zombizou to help Ladybug, or when she helped Ladybug defeat Despair Bear. Now, Chloe doesn’t know that Marinette knows this, but Marinette doesn’t have to give these as examples. Instead:

Marinette: You know, Chloe is pretty great when she puts her mind to it. She threw a party for the whole school not too long ago to make up for a mistake she made. Now, the reason she threw the party was mainly for Adrien’s sake, but she made up for that in the end, too. Chloe can do a little better, but don’t you think that she should have a good role model to look to for guidance?

Now, there are still two ways for Audrey to go here. She can choose to see herself in the right and can continue abusing Chloe...or she can be better, thereby encouraging Chloe to be better as well. Even if Audrey chooses to remain abusive, Chloe has now heard that Marinette Dupain-Cheng, a girl who she’s tried to make miserable in every way she can, sees some good in her. Someone Chloe seems to hate sees something worthwhile in her…and, in the words of Eliza Schuyler, that could be enough. 

If she enhances that good that Marinette sees in her, the good that Adrien sees in her, the good that Sabrina sees in her, the good that Jean the butler sees in her, the good that Ladybug sees in her…then she can be enough.

She doesn’t have to be like her mom. She could be like Ladybug. She can be exceptional.

She can be a hero.

Cycle broken.

[judestclare]

。· . ˙ ♪  ⌈ kristine froseth + cis female + she / her + solo g + clairo ⌋  have you heard ?  judith “jude” st. clare got signed by disclosure records two years ago ? they’re talented don’t get me wrong but i can’t believe it , they’re only twenty-two years old & some people go all their lives without making it , what makes them special ?  it’ll be interesting to see if the fame & success go to their head because i hear they can be quite careless , pliant & disloyal . but that could only be the rumours because i’ve also heard they’re gregarious , free-spirited & warm hearted . i guess only time will tell .  

     &.     hiii everyone !    i’m meredith, i’m nineteen, i use they/them and she/her pronouns. some more fun facts: i’m a libra, i’m from the est timezone, and really excited to be here !   under the cut you’ll find some #funfacts about the woman , the myth , the legend herself, jude st. clare !  

quick facts:

name: judith victoria st. clare

nicknames: jude — do not call her judith, she hates it

age: twenty-two

date of birth: january 20th, 1998

zodiac: aquarius sun, libra moon ( read here )

gender: cis female ( she/her )

sexuality: bisexual 

positive traits: open-minded, caring, fun-loving, free-spirited, warm-hearted, creative, adventurous, friendly, gentle, gregarious, bubbly

neutral traits: talkative, party animal, reticent, extroverted

negative traits: flighty, careless, disloyal, lazy, dishonest, flippant, easily manipulated/pliant, loud, facetious, unconfident, silly

tv tropes: plucky girl, hard-drinking party girl, the face, good bad girl

mbti: esfp, the campaigner ( curious, energetic, enthusiastic, good communicators, know how to relax, popular and friendly / overthinks things, too emotional, too independent, unfocused, little practical skills  ) 

background: 

jude was born and raised under the ever biblical name of judith in a tiny town in the midwestern united states to a religious family. growing up, her highest aspirations were winning a prize for best chocolate chip cookies at her church’s potluck. matching mary janes with her sisters and dresses with carefully picked cardigans took up the majority of her her wardrobe, and she could recite bible verses along with her times tables.

as teenage years hit, however, the spirit of rebellion was lit in jude. forcing friends and family to call her the much shorter, and in her opinion, much better jude. sneaking makeup in and herself out of picturesque suburban home, many nights were spent at house parties, doing beer pong inside, or smoking cigarettes or a joint outside. style never went full alternative — but baggy sweatshirts and ripped jeans replaced the uniform of sundresses.

two things that never suffered: her bubbly personality, and her affinity for bubblegum lipgloss. even as she tore away from weekly church attendance and skipped school more and more, jude still greeted all former churchgoers, classmates, and teachers in the grocery store with a beaming smile and a knack for remembering details — hi, ms. dawson. how’s little johnny? he’s two now, right? or i heard you were thinking about starting your own bait and tackle shop by the lake, mr. smith. i think you should do it. remember that bass you caught? you’re a natural! she had very little common sense, and didn’t do too well in school — but she always knew what to say and how to say it. she charming and friendly and fun to be around.

thus, jude’s rebellion was more so of the wannabe variety: in such a small town, everyone knew everyone, and everyone knew what she was doing. her parents mostly just waited for her to tire herself out — only it never happened. she dialed back on thick eyeliner, and still sometimes would show up to church on holidays to sing in the choir, but mostly, small town convention and religion were abandoned by the time she was in her mid-teens. 

eventually, she came out to her parents as bisexual, and it was a non-issue — despite religious background, her parents supported her 100%, no matter what clothes she wore, who she hung out with, or who she loved.

jude never graduated high school. by her sixteenth birthday, her attendance record was so spotty that they stopped calling home to let her parents know she hadn’t shown up to school that day — and a few weeks before she turned seventeen, after many screaming matches with her parents and sessions with the school counselor and principal, jude officially dropped out. 

she wasn’t going to sit around the house all day, however, instead driving her clunky car across town to the movie theatre every day, where she worked part time. she remained friends with all the people her age in town still, and made new ones at the theatre. however happy she was, jude was aimless. she knew she had to do something. finally, she turned a passion into a full time hobby, something she never thought would be lucrative. 

by seventeen, that knack for singing in the choir had been translated to covers posted with the gentle strumming of a guitar and manufactured beats. by nineteen, she was writing her own songs and gaining traction on youtube and soundcloud, and two weeks before her twentieth birthday, jude was signed to disclosure records and being flown to manchester. it was hard work, and it took years, but it still feels like a whirlwind to her — one moment she’s in her bedroom, playing bars in her local areas at open mic nights and upaid gigs, and the next she’s signed to the disclosure records. it’s a dream. 

tl;dr — jude is a flighty, fun high school dropout raised in small town middle america by a religious family. she grew into herself and was able to “rebel” despite her sheltered upbringing, and that unique sense of self + her musical talent got her a youtube following from the covers and songs she posted. that youtube following turned into a contract with disclosure two years ago, and she’s been in manchester ever since. 

career: 

a successful album and a successful tour behind her, the not-so-indie anymore lofi pop starlet is on the brink of even bigger fame, though she has a loyal following as she stands. she’s nowhere near super-fame — but she gets recognized in public, and that’s enough to give her the flutters in her stomach that she’s going to make it even bigger.

a regular social butterfly, jude regularly interacts with fans: instagram lives of acoustic covers from her apartment, constant posts to her stories. while her image isn’t exactly not genuine, it’s very curated: she’s careful what she reveals about herself, and the image she’s trying to maintain.

personality: 

image is not a thing, however, in jude’s personal life. still a party girl at heart, she’s down for anything once ... or twice ... or maybe a third time. she’ll say yes to almost anything, and a distinct — though never malicious — lack of loyalty keeps her unbound by romantic relationships or extremely close friendships. she’s friends with everyone, as she’ll tell you, and she has no problem at all with hookups, consistent or one night only.

in spite of this, she develops crushes at the drop of a hat, and will always be there to help someone else out ...  but don’t expect her to keep the same enemies, or to lose her forgiving heart.

jude isn’t dumb, and is pretty much a memorizing machine ( though not eidetic ), can be a little silly or ditzy, especially with sheltered upbringing and big heart. she’s not against being a shoulder to cry on, but when it comes to matters of her own heart, she’s as recticent as can be, never taking much seriously. as a mean youtube comment about her once said: that girl’s got about much depth as a kiddy pool. it wasn’t true, but it’s how she can come off.

drug tw / she drinks pretty consistently, and smokes weed even more so, though she’s not been known to deny any trying harder party drugs, however less consistent she is with it. she hasn’t a problem yet, but she doesn’t seem to be straying from the path that leads her there. if she ever encroaches in on one, jude wouldn’t be able to tell: she’s too busy having fun.

she’s a genuinely kind, caring person ... but jude is a little gullible, and trusts very easily. in spite of her affinity for friendship and relationship hopping, it’d be easy to convince her just about anything is true, or to do whatever bidding was necessary. say the right things at the right time, and jude will be wrapped around your finger. she doesn’t follow directions from authority terribly well, but friends ... that’s a different story.

above all : jude wants to be cool, fun, and liked. she’s a little desperate for attention and affection, and has inconsistent ideals about what’s good for her and the people around her. her self esteem is a lot lower than she makes it seem. 

wanted connections: 

party friends / drinking buddies: if anyone is as into getting drunk and dancing as she is, then call her up and get ready to go. she promises she can beat you in shots.

smoke buddies: a more chill version of the former, if anyone wants to sit around and have a songwriting session or just vibe.

friends: any kind of squad. she’s not the type to have besties, but if you consider her a friend, she’ll latch onto you whenever she gets the chance. 

hookups / fwbs: what it says on the tin, jude is down for anything and anyone (1/?)

crush: jude is very flighty and tends to have feelings come in like a hurricane, with the potential for them to leave just as quickly — this person would have jude wrapped around their finger.

unrequited: basically the opposite — someone likes jude, she’s a #dummy who doesn’t realize it and leads them on because she’s flirty with everyone and would probably also make out with anyone

enemies: jude doesn’t make many of these, but if someone is annoyed by her and lets her know it ... well, she’ll do everything in her power to make them even more annoyed. if you can’t make them like you, make them hate you even more.

tentative friend: on the opposite end of things, this person doesn’t vibe with jude but she’s half-oblivious to it, and is desperately trying to make them like her 

manipulator: jude LOVES attention, so if anyone needs any evil bidding or shit stirring done, just pay her some. she’d make an excellent lackey. 

anything else! seriously! just let me know what you want and we can brainstorm <3

[lunarboundlunaria]

So my friend and I have been playing through Borderlands 3 with randomized characters that have to use one type of weapon manufacturer (which was also randomized). I wrote his character’s backstory here and thought might as well write mine, too. Under the cut is the story of how my Moze got recruited by Torgue to use only Torgue weapons. Enjoy!

“Damnit!” She shouted, her voice echoing through the sandy mountains and sparkling night sky as a roar of skags answered her somewhere off in the far distance. “Why did Vladof do this!?” She continued to yell, her voice hoarse from her yells and screams at nothing, at no one. Her eyes were droopy from lack of sleep, but still, she continued to yell, scream, the anger building up every single day until she let it all out at night. Her face scrunched up, eyes glistening wet as she fought the tears off, her mouth was jarred in a snarl and her fists bawled tightly as she began to pace around the fire she built out in the Pandora desert—the only source of light and heat for miles. She stopped her pacing in front of her large, torn-up mech, “Were we really that worthless to them!? My team!? My friends!? You!? ME!?” She reached out and punched the side of her mech, the metal stinging her hand, but what stung more was that she hit her last surviving friend in the world. She placed her palm where she had hit him, rubbing gently, face softening, “I’m sorry Iron Bear… I let my anger get the best of me again.” She sighed before a tiny smile crossed her lips, the first one to appear in a long time. “You’re always there for me, through the bad and the good. I couldn’t ask for a better friend. My only friend, now.” She climbed on top of him, sitting on the hood, looking out at the desert, “Hey, the sun’s about to rise. I haven’t really watched it rise in a while, I’m usually too busy…” She trailed off, deciding it best not to revisit her thoughts. She let herself down gently, lying on her stomach, facing towards the rocky mountains, the sun peeking between them, spraying gold across the sands. “It’s beautiful.” She whispered, and, finally, a single tear made it through her defenses, slipping down her cheek and falling onto her mech. She wiped the wet trail it left away quickly with her arm, “I mean, you know if you can ignore the hollering and roars and screaming—”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING OUT HERE BY YOURSELF!”

She jumped, veering her head in the direction of the voice, “Well, can’t ignore that screaming can we, Iron bear?” She muttered under her breath, narrowing her eyes to try to see who it was in the coming dawn. A tall, muscular man stood before her, his shirt nowhere in sight. Even while on her mech, he still was almost taller than both her and Iron Bear in rest mode. Finally, it clicked in her brain, “Torgue?” It was difficult not to know who the man behind the explosive weapons was; out of every manufacturer, he was the most distinct. “What are you doing out here?”

“I ASKED YOU FIRST!” He shouted back, but it wasn’t mean, angry shouting, it was just how he spoke. Always loud. Always shouting. Always explosive.

She grimaced, not wanting to relive what she had gone through a few days ago. “I’m just… traveling.” Her eyes shifted away from his sunglasses as she spoke.

“YOU WORK FOR VLADOF!?” Torgue responded, pointing at her black helmet which showcased the Vladof signature on it.

She groaned in response, the scenes flashing before her eyes as she sat up on her mech, legs crossed and eyes closed tightly as she tried to forget again. Forget. Forget. No. She couldn’t. The scenes were already there, already flashing behind her closed eyes. “Vladof… Vladof sucks!” She finally shouted, opening her eyes and, in a rigid movement, she threw her helmet out into the desert, exposing her short hair which was frizzy and sweaty from the helmet.

“WELL, I KNOW THAT!” Torgue laughed loudly, “BUT WHY WOULD A VLADOF SOLDIER—”

She cut him off, something that was difficult to do, but her voice was louder, frantic, and he quieted down to allow her to speak. “My team, my coworkers, my freaking friends, they… they… they sent us on a mission here, but it was a trick! They didn’t tell us we were just a distraction so they could carry the real mission out behind-the-scenes! They sent us to our deaths without our CONSENT!”

“WOW, YEAH CONSENT IS VERY IMPORTANT TO GET!”

“I know!” She threw her arms up into the air, looking up at the now pink sky, “They killed my friends! They tried to kill me and Iron Bear! They thought we weren’t worth keeping alive! And now? I… I don’t know now! I don’t have anyone besides Iron Bear left in my life! Everyone at Vladof is traitors! They… I…” She gritted her teeth, voice cracking, “I’m lost. My life. They killed everything important to me. Hell, they even wanted to take my life away from me. But they failed. And now I’m here, still alive, still kicking, and damnit if I’m not going to raise hell for them.”

“F*** YES! GET ANGRY!”

“But I just…” She fell back onto her mech, sighing deeply, “I don’t know how to start! I’m wandering this desolate planet without a clue how to begin my acts of revenge! I don’t know what to do, where to start, I have nothing… well, besides you, Iron Bear.” She patted her mech affectionately.

Torgue paused for a moment, scratching the red bandana that covered his head before snapping his fingers together, drawing her attention, “I’M OUT HERE LOOKING FOR RECRUITS! HOW ABOUT YOU JOIN THE TORGUES!?”

“The Torgues? Yeah… don’t call them that.” She sneered back at him before sliding off Iron Bear, standing before him, his height even more shocking compared to her short stature, “But, well, can’t say I’m not a little intrigued… what do you wanna recruit me to be? A soldier, like in Vladof?”

“NO, EVEN BETTER! I WANT SOMEONE TO TRAVEL AROUND USING ONLY TORGUE WEAPONS TO PROMOTE THE BRAND!”

She tilted her head, “That’s it? That’s… not very interesting, to be honest. I’ll pass.” She turned away from him, getting ready to enter Iron Bear and leave to try and find her purpose.

“WAIT! THE PERSON GETS FREE TORGUE WEAPONS—”

“Still not interested…”

“AND THEY HAVE TO DO SOMETHING THAT PUTS THEM DOWN IN THE HISTORY BOOKS!”

“Like what? Help people? Boring. There are only two people I care about in this world now: me and Iron Bear.”

“NO! NOT HELPING PEOPLE! VAULT HUNTING!!! I, IN FACT, KNOW A PAST VAULT HUNTER WHO IS RECRUITING VAULT HUNTERS RIGHT NOW TO FIGHT SOME STREAMERS WHO WILL DEFINITELY BE RECORDING YOU! HERE’S THE PLAN: I RECRUIT YOU, THEN SHE RECRUITS YOU, YOU USE TORGUE WEAPONS IN HER MISSIONS, QUESTION MARKS, THEN PROFIT!”

She finally turned back around to him, “Vault hunting?” She asked, picking at her teeth while speaking, trying to look uninterested, even though she was quite interested now.

“YES! THE BEST JOB ON THIS PLANET! AND, YOU GET TO SHOW VLADOF WHAT THEY’RE MISSING AS YOU RAID VAULTS AND GET FAME, Y’KNOW, BEFORE YOU KILL ALL OF VLADOF!”

She smirked at that, imagining her name everywhere, pictures showcasing her with a Torgue weapon in hand, radio shows, promotional B.S., and then her blasting every traitor at Vladof’s head open, explosive style. “Cool! I’m in!” She gave him a thumbs up.

“WELL, COME ON! LILITH IS WAITING!” As she entered her mech to begin the journey to this so-called Firehawk, Torgue asked her, “WHAT IS YOUR NAME, ANYWAYS!”

“Morgue.” She answered back.

“MORGUE! WHAT KIND OF NAME IS THAT!”

She shrugged in her mech, “What kinda name is ‘Torgue’?”

“HM… TOUCHE.”

[tsaomengde]

Difficulty vs. Accessibility: Sekiro and Dragon Age

[cross-posting to several media platforms, so I explain the terminology more than would be called for on the subreddit. unmarked spoilers below the cut]

Since From Software’s Sekiro was released a few weeks ago, there has been a great deal of online hullabaloo about its lack of difficulty settings – well, they actually are there, but only in the sense that there are in-game options to make things harder rather than easier.  The centerpiece of the debate has been this article:

https://www.forbes.com/sites/davidthier/2019/03/28/sekiro-shadows-dies-twice-needs-to-respect-its-players-and-add-an-easy-mode/#362a8dc91639

Here’s the thing: in the past, I’ve said games should absolutely offer an easy mode, or ways to speed up progression, for those without the time/ability/inclination to play “as intended” – that is, to play the game the way the developers intended for it to be played.  But I’ve mainly had this conversation as regards games like Dragon Age and the newer Deus Exes, which have in fact included these difficulty options.

The crux of the argument about Dragon Age was a developer’s assertion that she would like to see a mode included where combat is either removed or automatically resolved.  She was, of course, sent the usual array of death threats and other excreta from the Twitter Brigade, mostly for the crime of being a woman on the Internet with an opinion, but those with an actual bone to pick said basically: “If you take the combat out of the game, there is no game left.  There is only a visual novel.”

The reason why I think difficulty settings, and indeed even a way to remove combat altogether, work/would work in Dragon Age is simple.  Visual novels are great!  Choose-your-own-adventure stories are fun!  The heart of the Dragon Age experience is interacting with your companions, exploring the world, learning the lore, making decisions that shape the way the story plays out, and so forth.  Do you drink from the Well of Knowledge yourself, or let your morally-ambiguous and rather-too-eager mage advisor do it?  Do you stand by while your friend’s mercenary company dies in pursuit of a larger political goal, or do you sacrifice the possibility of an alliance with a foreign power in deference to your friend’s well-being and feelings?  Absent the combat, these choices have weight.  They have consequences.  

The combat, frankly, is the tax you pay to get to experience these things.  I like Dragon Age combat just fine, particularly Inquisition’s, to the point where I’ve finished the game on Nightmare.  But to my wife, it’s precisely what I said it is: a tax you pay to get to the good bits.  On our joint playthroughs, she handles exploration and dialogue, I kill things.  She’s 100% capable of killing things just as efficiently as I am, but she doesn’t get the same joy from it.  If there were an option to remove the combat and just explore and hang out with your friends, she might be happy at the option to use it.

Here is why, in my estimation, the same argument doesn’t apply to Sekiro.

In Dragon Age, there are two kinds of entities: players, and enemies.  Players have a ton of abilities, specializations, equipment, weapons, they have skill combos they can do with their allies, etc.  Enemies are big walking chunks of hit points with the ability to make you die unless you use your abilities.  Most of the rules you need to follow, like stamina/mana management, cooldowns, positioning AoEs, trying to make your potion supply last from point A to point B, don’t apply to them.  They are there to get in your way and make you consume x% of your resources.  The combat gameplay does not inform the world, the lore, or the characters, beyond each party member being assigned a specialization that supposedly relates to their character (like Cassandra being given the Templar spec, which is… not accurate).  Your mages never have to worry about demonic possession, one of the main story elements driving class warfare in the setting, because that’s not the gameplay experience the devs are trying to sell you.

In Sekiro, you and your enemies are, by and large, the same.  You both have health and a Posture meter that gets closer to a guard break as you block more attacks.  You can both Deflect enemy attacks to inflict extra Posture damage and avoid taking it yourself.  While you have a wide array of skills and techniques, enemies do too.  Common enemies do not wander around with the goal of making you consume x% of your resources; they patrol specific routes, on the lookout, with the intent and capability of killing you stone dead if you screw up more than once or twice.

Combat gameplay absolutely informs the world, the lore, and the characters.  Sekiro can learn a multitude of special combat techniques, but unlike in Dragon Age, where the different abilities are just buttons you press to do different things for different kinds of damage or effects, these techniques have a presence in the world.  The Ashina-style Ichimonji, a powerful downward swing that restores your Posture, and the Ashina Cross, a sword-drawing technique, are both available to you and your enemies who practice Ashina swordsmanship.  You can counter enemy thrust attacks with a shinobi technique called the Mikiri Counter, where you step on an enemy blade as it’s thrust at you.  So when you fight your shinobi father Owl, who taught you everything you know, and you try a thrust attack on him… well, he hits you with his own Mikiri Counter.  He also knows your Chasing Slice follow-up attack to a shuriken throw, the Shadowfall thrust technique you can learn… the list goes on.

If the game wasn’t difficult, wasn’t punishing, if you could just tap R1 through every fight and occasionally dodge the really dangerous attacks, you wouldn’t recognize these things.  The difficulty of the game also encourages you to use stealth attacks, throw dirt in people’s eyes, kill from a distance with shuriken, use firecrackers to interrupt enemy attacks…  In other words, you are forced by the exigency of your situation to really adopt a shinobi mindset.  Once you really know the game, your moveset, and your tools, you can run into a crowd of three or four guys and come out on top, and it feels awesome, but not at first.  And even at the very end of the game, normal enemies are still totally capable of murdering you, to say nothing of the bosses, so you can never let your guard down.

So much of the story, the lore, of Sekiro, is communicated in this way, through your learned experiences and your struggles to master the systems of the world.  Watching someone play through the game is thrilling when they demonstrate skill, but it’s not the same as doing it yourself.  So the question is: how do you make such a difficult, tailored experience accessible?

I’ve thought a lot about it, and the answer I keep coming to is that you don’t.  You do everything you can to make it actually accessible – Sekiro already has completely remappable controls, multiple spoken language tracks for people who don’t want to or can’t deal with subtitles, adjustable gore levels – but at the end of the day, you can’t compromise the core of the experience.  I’ve read accounts from multiple people with disabilities on the Sekiro subreddit who, in point of fact, decry the call for “accessibility” and the use of the disabled community as a talking point.  They don’t want to be pandered to; they want to play the game as it was intended, same as everyone else, regardless of any additional complications.  Speaking as a person on the spectrum, if someone handed me a visual novel that had been tweaked to be more “accessible” to me, and they had tweaked it by taking out characters’ emotional ambiguity because we Aspies sure are bad with those Feelings, I would feel… well.  Not great, not at all!  I would rather play the actual visual novel and take the risk of not 100% grokking what was happening on the first run.

Another argument: at this point, we can all agree that Games Can Be Art.  Yes?  Good.  The purpose of art is to create emotion.  So we have to ask: what is the vehicle the art uses to deliver that emotion?  In Dragon Age, the vehicle is your interactions with the other characters, the choices you make, and the ways in which the story changes depending on those choices.  These elements are present in Sekiro, but a fundamental part of its vehicle is the experience of being in the world.  

Confronting Genichiro, the man who cut off your arm, in the middle of a lightning storm on top of a castle which you have spent the past hour scaling, fighting off enemy shinobi the entire way, and barely scraping out a victory by redirecting his own lightning attacks back at him – there is a raw edge of desperation that feeds back in to a tremendously powerful feeling of victory and satisfaction.  The analogous situation in Dragon Age, the big battle against Corypheus, does not create the same feelings because the situation is manufactured.  He supplies the battlefield, drops you into it, and then you have a little fight.  Your emotions about him and the situation come from the events leading up to it and their impact on you and your allies.  The cathartic element present in Sekiro is absent here, and the difference in the execution of gameplay-as-story is at the center of this contrast.

To sum up, the difficulty of Sekiro is directly tied to the player’s experiences in and understanding of the world, and thus it is an essential component of the game qua art.  Changing any element of it to make it less demanding and punishing would change the essence of the art form.  This is in contrast to Dragon Age, whose gameplay does not directly inform story and as a result can change the nature of that gameplay without compromising its essential player experience.

[burnouts3s3]

Kingdom Hearts 3, a review

(Disclaimer: The following is a non-profit unprofessional blog post written by an unprofessional blog poster. All purported facts and statement are little more than the subjective, biased opinion of said blog poster. In other words, don’t take anything I say too seriously. Just the facts 'Cause you're in a Hurry! Publisher: Square Enix Developer: Square Enix Business Division 3 Manufacturer’s Suggested Retail Price (MSRP): 59.99 USD How much I paid: 59.99 USD Rated: E10+ for Alcohol Reference and Fantasy Violence How long I played: 24 Hours which includes watching the (skippable) cutscenes to complete the game on Beginner Mode, the easiest game mode. Microtransactions: None! Dual Audio: No. Only The English Dub is available. What I played on: A Regular PS4, not a PS4 Pro Performance Issues: Say what you will about Tetsuya Nomura’s writing, the graphics are as beautiful as the current generation can muster. Some pixilation of hair tip details. Choppy framerate animation of heartless during mass army scenes. Featured Worlds: Olympus (Hercules), Toy Box (Toy Story), The Kingdom of Corona (Tangled), Monstropolis (Monster’s Inc.), Arendelle (Frozen), The Caribbean (Pirates of the Caribbean), San Fransokyo (Big Hero 6) My Personal Biases: I’ve played Kingdom Hearts 1 and 2 to death but haven’t managed to beat the spin-off titles (358/2 Days, Birth By Sleep, Dream Drop Distance) and mainly kept up with the series by watching the various cutscenes on Youtube. My Verdict: Kingdom Hearts 3 feels like a bookend, at least for certain characters. So while it closes off certain plot points for the spin-off characters, others are sure to get another decades worth of peripheral media thanks to Tetsuya Nomura’s convoluted and at times nonsensical storytelling. It’s also a great deal shorter than the previous games if you cut out the cutscenes. My fondness of watching Ratatouille’s Remy control Sora through a cooking mini-game notwithstanding, I wish there was more content here. Wait for a sale or the inevitable ‘Final Mix’.   Kingdom Hearts 3, a review  

The Kingdom Hearts franchise has managed to create numerous best-selling games across multiple platforms while weaving a tale that manages to incorporate characters from the Walt Disney Corporation and Square Enix into a narrative that deals with the enternal struggle of light and darkness. It also manages to have the most convoluted, overwritted and confusing storytelling to the point where George R.R. Martin would call overly complex. With the multiple mechanics, retcons, side stories, side characters and mixes and remixes, one would require an encyclopedia knowledge to keep everything straight. Tetsuya Nomura has managed the impossible of taking Disney characters and making spout paragraphs upon paragraphs of confusing exposition referencing other games that are almost necessary to gain any sort of emotional investment out of. I consider that an accomplishment considering this is a game where your two most frequent sidekicks are Donald Duck and Goofy. So after all the spin-offs, the side games, and the peripheral media with a decade in the making, this is “Kingdom Hearts 3”. So for those of you who haven’t kept up with the series, aka, normal human beings, Sora underwent a Trial but failed said Trial because he has not unlocked the power of Waking (Because this is Kingdom Hearts and in Kingdom Hearts, there’s always a convoluted reason why Sora is reset to Level 1). So Sora, Donald and Goofy have to visit various worlds so Sora can level up and also learn the power of Waking. Meanwhile, Riku and King Mickey are trying to find Aqua so she can find Ventus and Terra. Meanwhile, Kairi and Lea aka Axel are training under Master Yen Sid to become Keyblade masters. Meanwhile, Organization XIII are planning to unlock Kingdom Hearts yet again.

If the following paragraph confused you, be prepared to get even more confused as various Organization XIII members appear, give vague and confusing exposition before disappearing. Tetsuya Nomura, when he isn’t giving his characters leather outfits with an overabundance of zippers, has managed to write entire scenes revolving around plot mechanics, metaphors come to life, time travel and retcons. I’m not one to judge but at the point where Mickey Mouse is expositing backstories, character motivations and plot mechanics to the audience, I began to wonder if the targeted audience was still children. Gameplay wise, the game hasn’t changed much from Kingdom Hearts 2. For the most part, you’ll still be defeating Heartless using the Keyblade and physical attacks. As you level up or defeat story bosses, you’ll unlock abilities you can equip with Ability Points (or AP). Just as well, meters such as Health Bars or Magic will also increase. Using Magic for spells such as Fire or Thunder will use up a portion of Magic Points (MP) while using Cure to heal yourself will use up all your MP. When all MP is used, a pink bar will be depleted over time before MP is restored. They even keep some gameplay elements from spin-off games. Pressing Square near a pole will make Sora spin and attack. Using the Focus bar, Sora and aim and shoot, unleashing multiple ranged attacks. Crafting is the same as usual for the Gummi ship and synthesizing items with the addition of finding ingredients for a delightful cooking mini-game with Ratatouille’s Remy. You can create food which Sora can consume for temporary Stat increases. Returning are character limit breaks and unison attacks with the Triangle button. Pressing Triangle will unleash a team attack that does extra damage. New to the game are the ‘attraction attacks’. Hitting an enemy with a green marker allows Sora to summon attraction rides (such as Splash Mountain or a Carousel) and does area attacks. I didn’t really like these elements because it felt like blatant advertising and often not very useful. Remember all those cool context commands from Kingdom Hearts 2, like reflecting Xigbar’s shards, lassoing Demyx’s clones or Jumping on Xaldin? Those are gone and all the commands are just party based. The only unique ones are locked with guest characters such as Rapunzel lassoing the trio and spinning them around. At the same time, I really felt that the Disney portion of the game, aka, visiting the various worlds, was really lacking. The choice of worlds this time around didn’t really entertain me. Using movies that were already in 3D CGI felt really redundant to me, though credit to where credit is due in that the worlds of Monsters Inc., Big Hero 6 and Toy Story at least take place after their movies have finished. But Arendelle and Corona take place ‘during’ the movies so I’m just sitting watching scenes wholy lifted from the movies themselves. Here, they just recreate whole scenes from Frozen and Tangled but with the in-game engine. And however you feel about those various movies (FYI, I like Frozen but I felt that Tangled was a missed opportunity), it just seems like a waste of resources. Like, watching Kingdom Hearts recreate Aladdin, The Little Mermaid, The Nightmare before Christmas, The Lion King, The Pirates of the Caribbean and Mulan felt ‘iconic’ because it was translating a work not found in CGI to CGI and it was a cool sight. Just recreating scenes from Frozen and Tangled aren’t as cool to me because those various movies were already similar to the animation styles found in the game. Just the same, I found the boss battles lacking this time around. Before you were fighting against villains in Disney’s past. You got to fight Captain Hook with Peter Pan. You got to fight Ursula with Ariel. You got to fight Scar with Simba. Here, you’re just fighting random Heartless only bigger. I was expecting to fight Hans with Elsa but… didn’t. I was expecting to confront Gothel with Rapunzel but… didn’t. The only boss fight with a Disney Villain was Davy Jones and I really liked it. Still when the final chapters roll around, I did feel a tear in my eye seeing various characters reunited and seeing various villains finally bite the dust. CAVEAT: Ugh. This is one of the most frustrating reviews I’ve done. Fact is, for a AAA title, Kingdom Hearts 3 does a lot of things better than a lot of games. There’s no tacked on DLC, there’s no constant online mode and there’s still a plethora of content that justifies 60 dollars. But, I just don’t like how much shorter the game is and how even revisiting the 7 worlds, the one I genuinely like was the Caribbean one (and I don’t even like Pirates of the Caribbean). Verdict: Fans: Full Price. Everyone else: Wait for a Sale, Rental or the inevitable ‘Final Mix’.

[inappropriatefangirlneeds]

Gotham s5ep1 “Year Zero” Personal Review

““It will come”  “A thousand rounds of freshly minted nine millimeter stock”  Warning spoilers below  

 Hello there Gotham. The scenery with Edward arming himself and the disturbed vinyl sound makes me remember everything why I love this show. Oh, Oswald all dolled up and with a knife, I love it even more!  

“It's two minutes past pumpkin time, sweetheart.” I was worried about BARBARA KEAN. The last season ended as if they would make her some horrible “someone got what feminism is about really wrong” character but there she is protecting women, looking stunning and being god damn reasonable! She´s doing good! She´s doing it on her own terms. Granted the men buying time thing seems a tad bit silly but could be quite entertaining, also pragmatism rules!  “Honey, no one is asking you to forget what happened, but how do we protect the women who come in here every day looking for safety? We need this.”  It was heart breaking and inspiring to hear her tell Tabitha  “I need you too” This is how it should be, this is how you should do it. Also this just erased all my memory to all the wonky Barba and Ra´s al Ghul stuff.  Please just don´t let her be all cray cray mad from  now on. I really root for Oswalds ““Can we move past this? Say the whole Tabitha-Butch chapter is over?” approach. I could have done without all the BUTCH & TABITHA GALAVAN stuff. It just made barely any sense for Tabitha. It lessened the unexpected joy over finding out Tabs actually cared about Barbara. And while I always found it odd that OSWALD COBBLEPOT would neglect his revenge it feels stale at that point.  And for me it gets even more cheapened if they have it circle on with Barbara trying to off Oswald. Things should come to an end or it makes something grave look like some soap opera relationship drama know.   [Also why am I so suspicious about Tabs “don´t” line maybe being not only pure love and reason but a hint that she will somehow be back. Like oddly I don´t feel they would bring her back, but .. still suspicious!] “Gee. For a second there, I was worried.” Gee that was a good line. But I´m not really feeling it that SELINA KYLE would put the blame on Bruce like that. I get the pain, I get where she is and I get that there has to be some strain in between them because of this but I also feel like Selina would know, recognize and acknowledge that it is just Jeremiah who is to blame and no one else. Her saying something like that in that moment and state that she is in, perfectly reasonable but I so hope they won´t go further down that route once she´s healed (just have to assume that’s gonna happen) Sure it also seems to go hand in hand with her NO1. rule, that she just should have stuck to it and her going astray lead to her state and that Bruce is ultimately to blame which would send her on an even more solitary path than the one she has been on before, full of resentment for others BUT she´s always broken that rule, she´s always taken risk for others and not always has some profit from it, still she must have recognized to worth of that, I hope the writers won´t ignore that, like just to drive Bruce and Selina apart or something. The two of them had plenty of conflict, there is some things that Bruce actually did that Selina blames and resent him for, they do not need this as source of conflict. Also they already had her in a hospital and hopeless situation. Enough!  But damn, those first few scenes. Camren Bicondova is such an amazing actress. This just broke my heart before I even got to know what situation she is in. Also damnit, I didn´t need the feelz of this plot line, I really didn´t please just let Selina be ok again soon! ALFRED PENNYWORTH seems to be out of his depth with everything, but hell who wouldn´t be. It seems they´ll keep pushing Bruce to be the one to call the tune, especially since Jim signing him in.  That surgeon should just kiss Alfred, they should just let off some steam, clear the head, get rid of some tension and have Alfred build up something of his usual shine. Like I know it´s important for Bruce that someone watches Selina while he tries to fight for the medicine in the basement, and it´s great that he trusts Alfred with this but idk I feel like there´s still plenty of punches for him to throw in the right faces. “It's made him unassailable.” Can we talk about the shade in that line: “I mean, we have Penguin in City Hall, for God's sakes. He raided the armory and stockpiled weapons, then repurposed a factory to manufacture ammunition.” Jim´s voice was awesome when he delivered that. Like can you believe it, off all malady, we got penguin in the city hall, what a disgrace, I can´t believe it. But I´m glad OSWALD COBBLEPOT was clever to get things going well for him! Love that. He looks great too. But why the hell did he dress everyone around him so bland and boring??!!! Where is the previous style. Bring it back! Why is everyone looking so unhappy.  >>> Oh no .. was this fashion foreshadowing. Apparently, Oswald dines well while letting everyone else starves.  I feel Mr. Penn´s accusatory, disappointed and annoyed gaze. Also what is with all that politician like rhetoric? It´s bland, it´s boring. And it´s at odd times. Oswald has always been great with talk but now there´s something else happening and I don´t like it.  I mean it´s great that he´s back on track with the self preservation thing , it suits him and it´s nice but he´s shown great concern for the people of Gotham and now he wouldn´t care at all that people starve in his workshop?! #notmypenguin  I don´t buy it, and just because SELINA KYLE alone didn’t devastate me and I´m in that kind of mood I´m gonna read it into Oswald as well. After all I do think it makes more sense if I see Oswald being not quite in a dissimilar place than Selina is, or rather he is where I do think Selina could be if they give her back her agility (and hopefully a will to live) and just let her off without mental health treatment. Resentful, only being able to acknowledge the bad that has been done to them, desperately trying to keep themselves safe and especially keep themselves safe from others. I think it´s even telling that Selina can´t walk and they show Oswald getting a device for his leg just to be shot in it later. Oswald seems genuinely relieved and happy, the “feels good” carries joy. The device probably lessened the pain he has been in and moreover it grants him more mobility and agility, which in the current environment is more important than ever. However that cheery mood just lasts a tiny moment, it´s promptly followed by: put a knife on it . It´s pure survival. There´s some happy laughter about the new improvement but promptly Mr. Penn enters with more bad news and even worse something that basically challenges him and his leadership. Oswald just has to dismiss it. I feel like him talking so carelessly about the workers is not actually the lack of care but him being in a state where he just can´t acknowledge it. Something that he previously might have seen as something that needs to be tackled and resolved is now just a threat > Dismiss it! Same with the food. It´s not perfect, it´s not up to standard, it´s not what it should be > Overcooked, just get rid of it altogether. Not acceptable. Previous Oswald would have acknowledged a problem but would also have seen the other side and tried to utilize both but now he just can´t. Moreover his appearance is more on point than ever, meticulous even, and we get a scene with a makeup brush which certainly highlights this. > Everything has to be perfect, in place and under his control, he can´t tolerate anything else. He just can´t provide a target, and even if it´s smeared eyeliner. I think he´s strained, he´s scared, he´s terrified, he´s hurt. And it took a toll on him.  It also explains the constant politician lingo, he just sees everything as a threat and he has to fire and try to disarm with the politician protocol. He can´t get to the core of a situation anymore it´s just politics of survival. Maybe even more in his head than it actually is. [Okay to be fair maybe I´m not taking into account the full situation, after all it is more than reasonable to fear for his life in his situation, even Tabitha aside, but it´s not like he hasn´t navigated through that before] [Also, I might just read nonsense into this because I´m sad and because I just don´t want Oswald to be a cookie cutter meaaaniie] 

* Also how is everyone else just so great at acting. I´m shook. I thought, as usual with the time jump I´m just gonna be annoyed and really wondering how everyone got to the place where they are and why they suddenly liked someone or disliked them (*cough* Oswald n Babs what happened) but I´m just super emotional about how they all talk to each other.  The scene with JIM GORDON & HARVEY BULLOCK & LUCIUS FOX discussing their situation was just so brilliant. (“And the truth?” “We're on our own.” “The truth is we have no idea what might happen. And our job is to keep ourselves and everyone else alive.” > so sell them hope) Respectful, open, aware of the situation, direct no sugar coating but mutual understanding. Same with the JIM & BRUCE SCENES. Feels like they really want to build them up to “Equals” pretty quickly.  Even the scene with JIM & SCARECROW was brilliant. “I know what you're thinking, Captain. I have so few bullets. Do I spend one on him? Is it worth it? “I already know it's not.” But damnit the boy is worth everything. Although I find it really hard to see scarecrow as Jonathan Crane or see any connection between those, I guess it´s more convenient to just let that go and enjoy Scarecrow like he is.  It´s great to have so many references of characters knowing what shit all the others are in as well. Tabitha/Barbara quickly call that Oswald is short on supply. It gives me an odd “we´re all in this together” vibe despite all of them still fighting each other. But as it seems they´re indeed going to team up. Another example of this was: “Sorry. Mouths to feed. And you know all about that, don't you?” I chuckled when OSWALD COBBLEPOT pulled that one on JIM GORDON. Despite having more guns, Oswald still went for the verbal manipulation, try to make Jim see him as basically doing the same just on another side, with other methods.  Also can we talk about they paralleled them as well with the matter of TRUTH! “Truth is, I was never gonna make that deal. I need all those supplies.” “But if it was me, wouldn't I just admit it?  I mean, it's not like I'm going to be arrested.” Oswald really didn´t have a reason to say that he didn´t shot the chopper down except for it being the truth. Jim really didn´t need to tell Oswald that his deal was just a ruse and never genuine, except for it being the truth. No matter the situation, no matter the circumstances those two do share some values! Apart from GOBBLEPOT subtext still going strong we´ve reached another HARVEY BULLOCK & JIM GORDON milestone. It´s their beginning 2.0. No matter what they´ve been trough, no matter how their relationship changed they are basically back to Season 1. In season one Jim held up his badge and announced everything has to be done the right way. Then Harvey Bullock scolded the boy scout and lectured him on Gotham´s ways. The right way doesn´t work in Gotham.  Not we have Jim do the same, and Harvey sticking to his old role. “Three months ago, I would've lost my badge for that.” ..  “You want rules for this game? I'll tell you. I'll make it simple, okay? You win or you die. Next time, shoot to kill.” * “Fine. Whatever.” Oh mood. * “Say it walking.” Oh Harvey, that´s a great one. * “I haven't been happy in ten years.” Oh shit what a mood again. * “Everything all right?” “No, but we're alive, so that's something.” Great line, and I kinda wish it was a mood. * Is the pilot okay? I´m worried. * “You´ve earned a place here” and then Bruce doing that tiny tiny tiiny nod … * Also Jim Gordon not regretting staying in Gotham “Hell no” holding up hope like that, although he might not even have it himself is wonderful. He really radiates the vibe that he got this as much as someone can in that situation.  * Things I (and probably everyone else) just knew would happen 1. Tabitha: “He's gonna regret giving me this.” > Penn: Hey just letting you know quality suffered Oswald: Bullshit *fires shot*  bullet doesn´t go the kind of boom it should > Another bullet does the same making the talk about regret echo in a mean but expected twist. 2. Gotham: A chopper will bring us the much needed supplies it´s gonna be great, it´s just gonna work once but it will work Chopper: Get shot down, what a surprise 3. Dumpster in an alley: Is there  Audience: Ah Edward´s new bed *waits* Yes there he is. EDWARD NYGMA set up in a game against himself could develop really nice. And they had some great visuals in the scenes with him!

[vesterpollard4-blog]

Fantastic Ideas For Blogging About The World Of Engineering

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[diasporatheblog]

Ohhh that last ask had me wondering if they (Cine, Castulian and Iskendi) had a custom of special outfits for weddings like we do with wedding dresses and all! also if its not too much to ask I'm also wondering about clothing in general for all of them? Like what kind of things and colors are common for them to wear and stuff like that! (sorry if it doesn't make much sense I'm not too sure how to word it and also sorry this is so long lol)

Seriously, worldbuilding questions are never too much of an ask. I’m a huge lore nerd for basically everything I’ve ever been into, and getting an excuse to think about the minutiae of our own world is like the Best Thing™, so don’t ever hesitate to ask me/us this kind of stuff.

I’ll cover these one by one again, starting with the general manners of dress and then moving on to the specific occasional customs that go with weddings and such.

The Cine:

The Cine are, as you all know by now, typically a northern people. This isn’t to say that all of them live in fantasy Norway or Greenland or whatever, but the region they’re from does average much colder than the Mediterranean-like climate of Tarracina and the surrounding areas. Because it’s hard to cultivate plants in the Cine homeland (one of several reasons the culture raids), there aren’t a lot of textile fabrics available, except what they happen to be able to steal. So a lot of Cine clothing is fashioned from animal products like fur, wool, skins, and leather, as well as what basic plant matter they can get.

They are also a seafaring people, and so for the most part, heavy metal armor and such is a no-go, meaning that even when dressed for battle they usually stick to the same materials, even if the design and function is otherwise entirely different. Clan Maghnus had enough raiding success, and was in general located in a region warm enough, that this was supplemented by other material like hemp and linen. So on any given Cine from the PC’s clan, clothing is likely to be a mix of those elements. Designs favor trousers, tunics, short cloaks or vests for warmth (rather than long cloaks that might get tangled in rigging), and so on. Footwear is usually boots, and very often someone’s shoes are the most carefully-made article on their person. Cine boots have to keep water out, be sturdy enough for battle or serious hiking, not slip on a wet deck, but also be warm enough for snow. It’s a lot, and one of the most acceptable uses of magic is shoring up the properties of clothing items like that.

In the warmer seasons, Cine tend to forego sleeves first, and some will switch to longer tunics that hit the knee without the need for breeches. On land in warmer months/climes, variations on the theme can include shorter shoes with winingas (leg wraps to keep pant legs out of the way) and the occasional dress. The practicality of all this does not preclude some ornamentation, and Cine jewelry is a wide selection of raided items in metals that can’t be melted down for better use (such as gold, which is much too soft), and more natively carved bone, antler or obsidian articles. The Cine favor decorating their hair and beards over most other kinds of ornamentation, but cuffs, earrings, necklaces and bangles are not uncommon either. A nice set of embossed or worked leather armor is also a common symbol of status, especially given the culture’s emphasis on the value of battle and those who participate in it.

Cosmetics are by and large unheard of, with the exception of woad, which is sometimes painted on the body and face in various patterns. Some of the patterns have specific meanings and are worn at specific times, but others are just decorative and accord with the preferences of the individual. Roise’s woad patterns, for example, are a personal touch and don’t have anything to do with her position as Chief, though if she goes into battle, the patterns change to indicate her standing in the clan. The Cine tend to wear their hair long, or their beards in the case of those who want to/can grow those. This is not at all a rule, and exceptions exist untroubled.

There aren’t any particular types of clothing reserved for weddings; pretty much everyone is expected to wear their best, whatever that best may be. This means some people show up in a nice linen tunic and some people in their fanciest armor—it’s really the individual’s choice. White is the color of Cine death shrouds, so no one wears primarily white to a wedding. Traditionally, both of the couple getting married will wear green, as it’s the color associated by the Cine with life rather than death. One item, like a sash or something, is plenty, and since vivid dyes are hard to come by, the item is often an heirloom. There are some other ceremonies that demand more formal attire, such as the annual coming-of-age day. The young people participating do wear white, as the day represents the symbolic death of one self and rebirth of another. (Sometimes this has a lot of meaning, as coming-of-age day is when one declares one’s gender and intended profession, sometimes against all expectations and patterns in one’s life thus far.)

Castulia:

Castulians typically wear fewer layers of clothing than the Cine do, because the main part of the Empire is quite warm. It’s a very large empire, though, and so at its more remote corners, styles of dress show strong influence from conquered populations, and those on the northern border do tend towards thicker garments. But by and large, the fabrics involved are linen, cotton, and for the more upper-class, silk or satin as well. Most common are long tunics, varying from knee to ankle length, with shawls, capes, or light cloaks worn in various arrangements over the shoulders and body. Dye is available, but rather expensive, as are magical alternatives to natural dye. This is often graded by color, with purple being the most expensive and thus something of a status symbol. The military favors red (for perhaps obvious reasons), and the priesthoods wear mostly white or grey by rank, but with accented accessories or smaller pieces (belts, sashes, wraps, headscarves, and so on) in colors appropriate to their deity. Most Sages wear all and only white, however.

As far as other touches go, metal jewelry (with or without precious stones) is quite common in Castulia. The designs vary widely, and a lot of influence from the former nations that make up the Empire can be seen in regional variants. There’s definitely some stylistic divergence by gender, but the greater differences are those across classes and professions. Soldiers like Sangarinus typically don’t wear much if anything like that, and depending on the trade, tradespeople also have to be selective, but those in the civic and mercantile professions tend to prefer at least one or two pieces at a time. It is vanishingly-rare to see a Castulian pierced anywhere but the ears, and though they will often make artistic use of dyes on the body (think henna), permanent tattooing is also very uncommon. 

Like with accessories, cosmetics range across class and occupation, but it’s not unusual to see eyeliners or lipstains, and those in more aesthetically particular professions may also elect for shadows or powders. Lighter touches are preferred so as not to melt off in the heat of a Castulian summer. While eyeliner is fairly ubiquitous across genders, the rest tends to show up much more frequently on the feminine (or, e.g., actors and artists).

Castulians differentiate more between formal attire and the rest than the Cine do. Some garments (such as togas) are considered occasional in the same way a three-piece suit is. And even when formality is not garment specific, the quality of fabric or ornateness of embroidery will often mark a tunic, dress, or whatever off as being for fancier occasions. Castulians getting married will wear either a dress, a toga, or the formal version of the military uniform, if they are soldiers. There are no specific wedding colors, as the same general rule about dyes and things applies, and most people honestly just choose whatever color is their favorite, or sometimes whichever is associated with their family heraldry.

The military has uniforms: formal, informal, and full battle gear. The most commonly seen on Castulian streets is the informal, which is usually a red tunic with half-length sleeves, optionally a layer of padding, a long shirt of scale or chain mail, and then usually a leather chestplate, though sometimes these are metal in the case of heavier infantry. Belts, bracers, and the like accompany this, along with either boots or in some months knee-high sandals, and ocrea (greaves). There are also helmets, but these are rarely worn outside the context of battle or patrol. Officers additionally have special types of cloak, the color and stitching identifying their rank. Depending on where the soldier is stationed, breeches or leggings may serve as an additional layer of warmth, and tunics may be modified to have longer sleeves. Uniforms for the cavalry are heavier, and for the navy are lighter, often lacking the scale or chain in favor of additional padding or simply leather.

The Iskendi:

The life of an Iskendi is lived either primarily on board a ship, or occasionally in small, mobile settlements on islands. They tend to favor clothing in bright colors, the material mostly being what they can steal from Castulia, or manufacture from their limited horticulture. Access to magical means of color alteration is much easier, however, as they’re fewer in number but with a very high proportion of mages in the population, so dyes are seldom necessary. If the Iskendi wear armor at all, it is also stolen, so scavenged and piecemeal bits of Castulian uniforms are not uncommon to see.

Captains tend to be associated with particular colors; for example, Meryem wore a lot of red and gold. Her crew followed suit, and in this way they are recognizable as belonging to a single unit. There is of course variation; not all of Baltasar’s garments are purple or blue, but there’s nevertheless a clear theme, and it distinguishes one group from another quite easily. The Iskendi are also more likely than either the Cine or Castulians to forego certain articles in everyday situations: shoes, for example. Typical Iskendi style is for looser, more draping garments as one moves up the hierarchy. While any captain certainly knows how to rig a sail, it’s part of the status of being captain that they don’t usually have to, so while ordinary crew often tie down sleeves and such while they go about their work, officers typically don’t. The quality of clothing follows a sharp gradation with status, one emphasized by the fact that most everyone is wearing the same color, as the other differences are then more obvious to the eye.

The Iskendi favor jewelry both as ornamentation and for the practical purpose of being able to barter or gamble with it amongst each other. Multiple piercings are the norm, especially around the face: ears, eyebrows, noses, lips, and the like. They also decorate hair and beards like the Cine do, but usually with gold or silver rather than bone or antler.

Given the tight quarters and need for efficiency, there aren’t really any formalwear standards to speak of. Iskendi sailors and settlers alike wear what they have, and keep it in good condition whenever possible, as it’s often hard to say when they’ll be able to replace it. Cosmetics, like finer fabrics, are a luxury item, but quite popular aesthetically. Iskendi also frequently get tattoos, usually centering around some theme of personal significance or particularly-important autobiographical events. Some designs are even shared amongst families, a way of keeping the most important pieces of their history alive.

[multiverseofmiracleshq]

After Wanda Maximoff expanded the Hex in an attempt to save the Vision, Captain Monica Rambeau and Agent Jimmy Woo escaped and headed into New York to give the Avengers and other heroes a debriefing session. While they were unable to come up with any solutions, the conflict escalated when Wanda herself showed up and took some of the heroes back to Westview with her.

THIS IS THE OFFICIAL CHAT LOG COVERAGE OF THE IC

MONICA: Everything felt wrong. Everything was wrong, but Monica wasn’t the type to linger on where they were failing. She had to focus on what they had going for them... which was admittedly very little at the moment. Stepping through shadows and arranging secret meetings in dilapidated warehouses all felt very illicit. It was the exact opposite of everything Maria Rambeau had instilled in the bones of S.W.O.R.D. when she created it. Still, desperate times called for desperate measures. That’s what she had told Jimmy grimly when she accepted her coffee that morning, black and burning her tongue. They both looked exhausted. At some point she had discarded the blue S.W.O.R.D. windbreaker she had been wearing for days and found herself stripped down in just a sweater and jeans. Not exactly wow ‘em with a first impression style but Monica had a one track mind that was circling Westview. “Bigger turnout than I expected.” Her voice was clear despite the lack of sleep. Maria had taught her a few things, and one of them was to hold herself together under pressure. “I know it’s not on the news or being talked about, but Agent Woo and myself were there. We talked to Maximoff. And I,” she swallowed thickly around the hot ball of humiliation she had been shoving to the side. “Was inside the Hex. If you’ve got questions we’ll do our best to answer, but we need is a game plan here.” Or a why. Or a how. How had anyone let this happen. “You know Wanda. Anyone get any kind of vibe from her that she was about to hold a town hostage and steal a body?”

CAROL: Carol scratched at the back of her head, the half-assed bun she'd thrown her hair into protesting until she ultimately removed the band entirely and fiddled with it instead. A twirl around her wrist followed by a pop as she snapped it against her skin. And then she repeated the process, listening as Monica spoke, following the way the agent moved as she explained the precarious situation. Bad guys usually came in the form of sinister aliens or disgruntled mutants. Not too common did they come from their very own backyard. "Hold a town hostage?" They'd been briefed before settling into this dilapidated building and Carol tried to hold the bite back in her tone. "She's torturing them." She couldn't help but cast a glance to Pietro, asking a question that didn't really require an answer. Still, "Are we even sure this is Wanda?"

STRANGE: Stephen was dressed a bit more casually than usual, meaning less magical. He had his gray suit with his red shirt and black tie underneath, but of course a man of his caliber always needs a little extra flair, that's what the black cape that went halfway down his back was for; aka the transmogrified Cape of Levitation. He sat patiently one leg resting over the other for the meeting to start. This wasn't his meeting for once so he chose to be polite and not chime in right away. Although when Monica began taking questions he didn't hesitate to answer. "Yes and no." He said as he folded his hands in his lap. "She was doing well for once. Made a lot of progress but was always seeking to push the limits. Hoping to bring back The Vision and Pietro but I would always try and talk her down from it. While I can't claim I didn't see this as a possibility I certainly believed it wouldn't come down to this." He aimed to keep his town emotionless and professional despite his pedagogical love for her.

MONICA: Dark eyes skipping over the crowd, Monica refused to let them rest on a single person. “It’s Wanda.” Her voice was firm. “That grief, the emptiness. It’s not manufactured. It’s raw and it’s all consuming.” If they could have gone into the situation and danced around her tenure as Geraldine: sassy Black friend Monica would have done so in a heartbeat. Her experience was part of the puzzle though and she knew it. “It’s the feeling of someone who has nothing left. But that’s not true. I mean, some of you are examples to the contrary. So why would she feel like that? And how did none of you notice she was drowning?” Maybe it was harsh, but Monica wanted answers. Everyone stuck in Wanda’s sick game deserved them.

BILLY: Billy was leaning over his edge of the table, picking at the corners of his nails, his eyes downcast and away from the rest of his family that was perched near him. Man, he hated this. "She seemed fine when we talked. I mean, I know it hasn't been easy for her, but she never seemed so..." unhinged was left unsaid as he trailed off, finally picking his gaze up from the table top and looking at Monica. "She created a whole family." he stated, the rumble in his tone an indication of how troubled that made him. "But she had one already, didn't she?"

PETER: Peter had shown up a few minutes earlier than the rest of the crowd, and lingered by the door as the group filed in. While his civilian attire felt wrong, it appeared to match the unspoken dress code of the rest and that alone quelled most of his nerves. Dwarfed by an oversized sweatshirt and a ratty old baseball cap emblazoned with the Star Wars logo, Peter tentatively raised a hand, “Wait, I’m sorry — steal a body?” The information was likely common knowledge, but Peter hadn’t been paying the closest attention during the initial debriefing and that was coming back to bite him in the ass right about now, “H- Hi— I’m sorry, can we go back to that part...”

LORNA: So her sister had gone mad. Lorna had seen that coming from a mile away ( decimation, anyone? ) but it was still sad to hear. She knew loss but not on that level, and in all honesty, Lorna couldn’t pretend she wouldn’t do the same if it was in her power. Someone had pulled some chairs around a sketchy looking table and the mutant was perched with one leg tucked underneath her. “I mean, we’re not super close with her. Things are fine but we don’t have sibling hangouts. She barely comes to Krakoa for obvious reasons. Idk how it was with you, dad,” she glanced at Erik. “But I can’t say I’m surprised. It’s not like she accidentally Decimated our people or anything. Of course this is the kind of shit she’s capable of consciously.”

SCOTT: “Yeah, I’m with the kid — what’s our level of concern in regards to all of this? Are we - delegating...things to worry about?” Scott gestured to Peter briefly before returning his hands to the pockets of his jacket, “Or is this one of those, ’everybody worry about everything’ situations. Because nothing against any of you,” he held up a hand to Monica apologetically, “but that doesn’t seem...the most...productive....” Noticing the conversation was continuing on around him, Scott trailed off, “...nope, yeah. Nevermind.”

PIETRO: Pietro stood to the side of his father for once, Tommy lingering to his own right, and together it was an interesting collection of white haired mutants that were related to the one in question — to say the least. With his arms crossed, he shrugged his shoulders in a fidget as Monica spoke. He glanced at Carol as her gaze slid his way and listened to the others as they shared their opinions. Which was really all they were. Opinions.  “Lorna, shut up.” He cleared his throat and turned back to Monica and Woo, though he spoke to the room. “Despite the way it might seem, my sister’s intent isn’t a hostage take over. She’s in pain, she’s alone — and she’s experiencing more power than anyone in this room has touched. Wanda’s still discovering what she’s capable of, in some ways she’s in control and in others I think it’s her subconscious.” Pietro inhaled and stepped out of line beside Erik and his nephew. “I think I’ve been speaking with her in our sleep — since the mind stone altered her, we have always shared a mental sort of link — she doesn’t want this reality any more, she doesn’t think there’s anything here for her. She doesn’t even think I’m real.  If we’re to do anything, it’s to show her that she’s wrong.” His gaze danced to his father, Tommy, and then Billy. Wanda had a whole family out here, she just didn’t know it.

CAROL: "How much of that is our job?" Carol asked, not intending to sound so crass but unable to help it. "Stepping into this role comes with more responsibility than anyone is ever prepared for and Wanda had a way out if she wanted it -- she's a mutant, she has a whole Island now. Instead, she became a terrorist to live out a sitcom fantasy and people are suffering. If she needed help, she should have talked to someone -- she shouldn't have stolen the Vision's scraps and pieced him back together." She let out a staggered breath, the tension in her shoulders the only indication, other than her tone, that she was eager to move and respond. React. "We can't be expected to keep tabs on everyone's mental state at all times."

LORNA: Eyes rolling at her no longer dead brother’s command, Lorna’s tongue stuck out slightly before she leaned back in her chair. Not because she was listening to him. She just didn’t have anything to contribute at that moment.

TRAUMA: He had been sitting quietly, picking at the black nail polish of his finger nails anxiously as he practiced the same meditative breathing as he did with his patients. Sure, he specialized with those with super powers and paranormal trauma were his specialty but this was on a whole new level and he was so ill acquainted with everyone in this room but he had to chime in. "Assigning blame won't accomplish anything in remedying this situation." Trauma chimed in, his cold eyes looking over everyone. "Terrence Ward, code name Trauma, leading paranormal trauma counselor. We aren't here to point fingers, are we? The fact of the matter is Wanda's mental health is her own responsibility and no one elses. While we hope those close with her would help her it's not their responsibility to keep her stable. We need to all get in this mindset before we can actually prepare to help the people she's taken under her control as well as her... So yeah..."

ABIGAIL: As a rule of thumb, Abigail wasn’t exactly known for having a good attitude. She could be considered surly on a good day but she was damn good at her job and that’s what counted. They had set up a tiny projector with a sheet on the wall and she tapped play as footage began to silently play. “Your girl is a metaphorical grave robber.” Bluntness weighed her words down. “I’d also like to talk about my agency. My agency that the asshole Hayward commandeered. S.W.O.R.D. has other branches. He’s acting outside of his jurisdiction. I managed to get this footage off the server before he booted me and my team. Which, as the actual Director of S.W.O.R.D. is incredibly frustrating.” Running a hand through green waves, she turned to the kid who had snuck in. “That explain it?”

ILLYANA: “Boo hoo.” Dark lips were tugged downwards in a mocking expression. “She lost people. People died. Everyone dies around here. I left my lovely living Island because you had questions about magic, and this is just a psychology discussion over someone who seems quite content with her delusion. What do you want from us? Do you want me to teleport inside? I have a sword. I’m great at ending things.”

STRANGE: "I do not suggest that, Miss Rasputin." Stephen chimed in. "As I'm sure you know, death isn't a sure fire way to end magical effects, especially as powerful as the hex. And even if it did, who knows what sort of violent psychological damage it could inflict on the citizen's of Westview." He also didn't want to lose Wanda. He claimed some sense of responsibility over her.

ERIK: “I think it’s easy to make judgements and accusations when you’re not the one that’s lost every person you’ve ever cared for. Everyone in this room has made fair points, Wanda has caused a great deal if distress for those inside Westview and those of us outside of it that are left to pick up the crumbling pieces. That in mind, I’d also like to remind everyone here that their own abilities are vastly inferior to my daughters. Not one of you could for a second fathom the responsibility she carries. I’ve seen Storm start fires in the atmosphere if she simply gets too angry, so she spent her entire life learning to control her emotions. You’re asking an orphaned girl who accidentally became an Avenger to do the same when she was dead for five of the years she carried the Avenger title. Perhaps we should be less quick to dismiss her as our responsibility. I don’t see that mind set when someone bombs the U.N. Now your teammate is falling apart and you’re upset she’s inconvenienced your day?  And you call yourself heroes.”

SCOTT: “Yeah - that’s an option,” Scott nodded to Illyana, stepping closer to the remainder of the group, “— or, you know, I could make myself reeeeally small, and just - “ a vague gesture and shrug later, “ - kinda, squeeze my way in. Thoughts?”

SAM WILSON: “Hey now,” Sam extended a hand towards the mutant mouthing off. “Doc is right. Even if she’s messing up, Wanda was our friend. Is our friend. She deserves a fair trial here. But this isn’t just about an inconvenience, Magneto. This is an active security threat and we aren’t the only ones with our eyes on the target. Maybe Captain Rambeau or Commander Brand know more than me, but I don’t think Hayward is trigger shy.”

PIETRO: Pietro zipped to stand inches from Illyana’s face, eyes narrowed. “Go ahead, do it. I’ll have you trapped in a vortex so fast your lungs will explode before your brain waves can even get the thought to your brain to teleport.”

CRYSTALIA: A moral support more than anything else, Crystalia was left standing next to the gust of air where Pietro had once been. “Pietro.” Her voice was quiet, body swaying slightly to keep the baby strapped to her asleep. “She’s trying to get a response. Even if she did teleport in, the Hex would rewrite her. Maybe Westview needs a Russian house cleaner.”

SUSAN: They had decided to only send one representative to the meeting. It made sense with the Fantastic Four trying to stay out of things and their never ending multiversal issues. “...That won’t work.” She shook her head at Scott Lang. “She’s rewriting reality. Do we have anyone else who can compete with that? Franklin, my son, used to but he’s been depleted.”

ADAM: Getting quite tired of all the back and forth bickering Adam chimed in. Arms crossed over his chest, face looking just as stern as ever. "Now now let's all return to our respective seats and leave threats of violence to the voices inside our heads, shall we?" He chimed in before giving Captain Rambeau a nod and turning his attention to Susan. "Thank you for bringing that up, Doctor Storm. One thing I was hoping to do was get a closer look at the Hex itself or at the energy readings that have been gathered by S.W.O.R.D. if anyone is in possession of such a thing. Then I can begin my work on creating an energy frequency directly opposing that of the Hex with the intent of using it to neutralize the reality altering energies being employed by miss Maximoff."

PIETRO: Pietro eased as Crystalia’s voice resonated and he stood again, stepping back to stand besides her and Luna. “That’s not the point.” he said to her. With ideas of violence thrown around, others were bound to feel the same and that kind of mentality was like a virus—it spread. Pietro turned to Sam then. “Hayward is not trigger shy — he already shot a missile at her and two ten year old boys. Not that it did him any favors.” he shrugged.

CAROL: Carol let out another breath, finally abandoning her fiddling antics and instead sat further back in her chair, the base squeaking with the applied pressure. "I don't want to hear about uncontrollable power when this one," she shot a hand towards Billy, "tried to bring back his boyfriend's dead mother by plucking through realities and we almost had to step in when everyone lost their damn minds." Carol then refocused her gaze on Erik, clear exhaustion burning into her features. "Wanda is not the first, nor the last person who will accidentally go haywire and lose control. That isn't the point here, Lehnsherr. The point is that Wanda is making a deliberate decision to do this. She's not out of control --- the problem is, she is in control, and she isn't stopping. This was the point of the Accords, wasn't it? To prevent things like this from happening?"

MONICA: At Adam’s interference, Monica gave him a wary and relieved close lipped smile. “We had readings on the Hex, but Hayward has them. Our other best bet was Dr. Lewis, but Darcy got sucked inside.” Monica still felt guilty about that. They had left her, hadn’t they? She had insisted -- but still. Out of the three of them Darcy was the one with zero combat skills and the most important knowledge. We either get Darcy back or the files, and that’s a toss-up. I’m not sure what the Hex consumed last night.” Knowing that didn’t help Adam much, Monica turned to Pietro. “She’s your sister. I get it. At this moment, I’m the closest anyone has been to Wanda since she built the Hex. I didn’t know that missile was armed. I never would have sent it in. But we do need a solution here. If we can non-lethally take her out maybe we can contain her before she wakes up. We just don’t know who we’re going to lose if we try, and I don’t want everyone to have to get tossed through a few fences if she decides she’s mad at you.”

SAM: Tension cording the muscles of his shoulders, Sam stood to pace along the back wall. “We really citing the Accords out here right now? Some of us,” he gestured towards Nat, Steve, Scott and Clint, “either got hauled into the Raft or ended up on the run. Both for some of us. Maybe structure isn’t bad but that deal was. If you were here, you would have known.” He left it open for any of the impacted parties to step in.

ERIK: Erik was glad to see Sam had a level head — he was a good fit for the shield and it was always better to have reason in the room. “I never disagreed that she wasn’t a threat.” he said. “I do think we should note the threat only advanced when — as Pietro said — Hayward made the first act of violence. All things considered Westview was for all intents and purposes contained until the director jumped the gun. Now it’s expanded and she feels threatened — If we send a group of mutants or agents or anyone up there that isn’t a face she cares for, I don’t think it will end well.” as Carol spoke next, Erik listened. “Is she?” he asked. “And how in control can one be when they’re restitching the fabric of reality, Miss. Danvers?”

BILLY: "Well, she expanded the area." Billy chimed in, fingers drumming against the table. "That kind of reality warping isn't easy to do if you can't control it. And she did it to save Vision, which does lend itself to being pretty deliberate." This whole conversation was making him uncomfortable, but considering he had enough experience with reality warping, he felt stupid keeping his mouth shut. "You can sometimes screw up," he cast an apologetic glance towards Carol before continuing, "And do it wrong, but it was still done."

MONICA: “The threat was already in advance.” Exhaustion and irritation lined Monica’s voice as she leaned forward to plant her hands on the table. “The second Wanda took over Westview the threat began to advance. I know she’s your daughter, but her eyes were clear when she kicked me out of town. Wanda knew exactly what she was doing. Every glitch, every change. She even controls the airwaves and blocks off what she does’t want us to see. Maximoff marched out of the Hex and threatened everyone to stay away. No ranting, no raving. She meant it. This is calculated, as much as I hate to say it. Which brings me to my next point: I’m going back in. I’m not asking you for permission. I’m just telling you. Woo will handle this side of things.”

CAROL: "Go back in so your memories can be wiped -- what purpose will that serve?"

STEVE: Steve’s jaw clenched at the mention of the Accords. “The accords was just handing the reigns to someone else, all it did was shift the blame and put more paperwork in the way of the job.” he looked at Carol. “It was never about keeping anyone safe. You can put as many contingency plans in place as you want, but I’ve seen enough in this life to know better than to expect anything less than the unexpected.” a beat passed and Steve sighed. “ The last thing we need to focus on is why wanda is doing anything. She’s a good kid, she’s got a huge heart — i know that for a fact. Now, I don’t know what’s going on with her that’s got her head so twisted right now that she’d do this, but it doesn’t matter. What matter’s is how we fix it. When Thanos had us on our knees, Wanda came out of that portal and she was a huge part of what swung that whole fight for us. I’m done listening to anyone else shrugging off responsibility like she’s a Starbucks cup on Broadway — if you don’t want to be part of the solution — the door’s that way.” he jutted his chin in the direction for emphasis. “Now, Pietro said he was having dreams where he could communicate with Wanda — I’d say we start there since S.W.O.R.D. couldn’t even do it with the best tech on the planet. Monica, you said you were inside the Hex, right?”

BILLY: "Should her family go in?" Billy asked. "I might even be able to combat some of whatever she's doing and we could at least try to get people out."

NATASHA: For the duration of the conversation, Natasha had been sitting with her chin perched on steepled fingers. She was by Steve’s side as a silent observer, glancing up when Carol invoked the Accords and Sam called her by name. “Steve’s right.” She shrugged simply. “If this is all deliberate, it took a lot of planning. When and where did that happen? Sometimes when you want to find answers you look at the beginning. Is it possible she started small or did it instantly escalate? And the fact that S.W.O.R.D. had his body -- did anyone know that? I thought he got buried.” He deserved to be. He was their friend who had died unfairly.

MONICA: Her jaw had clenched so tightly that her head had started to ache. The lack of sleep and surplus of coffee probably had something to do with it as well. For the first time all night, Monica locked eyes with Carol but her gaze did little to soften. “Wanda changed me. My body, my genetics. Woo saw the charts. Maybe what she did will keep me safe. If not, I’m looking good in low rise jeans. I’m the only person whose gotten out. That has to mean something.” She shook her head. “So, yes. I’ve been inside. For multiple days, actually. And I think it’s a bad idea to send in anyone Wanda has a close connection to. We don’t know what she’d do to you. She literally manifested a few new versions and recast Pietro. If she won’t let her own twin in and refuses to acknowledge him, why would anyone else be different?”

STEVE: Steve appreciated Natasha every morning he woke up next to her, but there were moments like now, where he appreciated her even more. And it looked like he wasn’t the only one — from the looks of it, Pietro visibly seemed to ease some of the tension in his shoulders as he came to stand behind the couple. “That’s what I wanted to know, I thought from S.W.O.R.D.S intel, Wanda didn’t even seem to know Wanda was in control until a few days ago. As far as I was tracking, Maximoff only just recently became conscious of her doing.” Which if anything, gave them some semblance of hope now. As Monica spoke, Steve was carefully attentive, but at the recasting comment, he looked to the mutant in question behind him—who rolled his eyes and shrugged. “Monica has a point.” He agreed. Pietro didn’t seem to like that and all steve could do was offer him an apologetic press of his lips. “Are you saying you’re willing to go back in?” he looked back to the agent.

PETER: “Everything Agent Rambeau said makes sense to me,” Peter piped up during the briefest lull of silence, intimidated by the multiple pairs of eyes now on him, “If she let you go, she obviously had no intention of hurting you. Maybe we can use that to our advantage, maybe things’ll be different this time.”

JIMMY: “Monica is right.” Jimmy chimed in, only to take a beat with his mouth partially open as the former Captain made eye contact with him. Consider him not so jaded by the number of heroes in the room but somehow maintaining a level of professionalism even he was proud of. “Monica’s scans are more than just different, they’re concerning,” he continued “When she went in she was wearing a kevlar vest and Wanda rewrote it into a bullet proof 80’s pant suit. There’s no telling what she’ll do to anyone who goes inside.”

CAROL: "So you want to go in alone." Carol remarked. "Contingency plan?"

SCOTT: Scott eyed Agent Woo with curiosity and mild surprise, “Concerning? That’s one way to put it. This is a suicide mission.”

PIETRO: “Aceasta este o pierdere de timp.” (this is a waste of time) Pietro sighed the words heavily to himself and pinched the bridge of his nose. “No offense to either of you but you’ve been working on this for what? Several weeks now and still know around the same level of information as before — and the idea, the best one we have — is to send the woman my sister hurled out of her Westview and expect her to succeed in reentering the hex based on, what? Wanda’s good natured decision not to kill her?” By the time he reached the end of his sentence he was chuckling bitterly. “cel mai mare erou al lumii și nici măcar un creier printre niciunul dintre voi.” (the greatest heroes in the world and not a single brain among any of you.)

MONICA: Grabbing the bottle of water that she had discarded, Monica took a long swig as people affirmed her choice and one questioned it. “This is a few months ongoing,” she wiped her mouth with her sleeve. “With recent escalation. Before it was tiny things we could brush off but Wanda’s all but declared war now. Trust me, I’m counting my lucky stars that Wanda decided to kick me out instead of erasing me from reality, cells metastasizing aside. Parker may be right. I’ve been in and I’ve come back out. That’s more than anyone else here can say. Besides,” her voice softened. “Darcy doesn’t deserve to be left there. Not after everything she’s done.” Although she almost didn’t answer, Monica crossed her arms over her chest and turned to Carol. Maria would have advised her to watch her tone, watch her mouth. It was out of respect to her dead mother that she keep the thin line of professionalism present. “Contingency plan? You guys. Find a reality warper or a magic spell. We came to you for a reason.” As Pietro began to speak his hybrid phrases, Monica rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, she let me in. That’s more than you say currently.”

LORNA: “A suicide mission?” Lorna looked between her brother and father. “The world has too many humans. Send in the bug ones and Illyana and let’s see what happens.” She snickered slightly. “I don’t speak Romanian, but he’s shit talking the hell out of you.”

PIETRO: “She thinks I’m a dead figment of her imagination. You’re an intruder that she has kept alive because she’s not a murderer. Don’t be so quick to saddle your high horse just yet.”

SUSAN: “That’s not entirely true.” Susan tapped her finger on her leg. “Wanda’s killed before, even if accidentally. The trajectory of this makes it highly probable she may again.”

CAROL: "Mouth on you," Carol remarked, rubbing her eyes. "If Wanda isn't a murderer, then Monica reentering the Hex shouldn't be a problem. The problem, actually, is phase 2. So Monica goes in, and then what? We just wait? If there was a way to reach us from inside Darcy would've figured it out. You going back in does nothing to solve our direct problem other than Wanda does finally lose it and kills you."

TOMMY: “We have a reality warper.” Tommy piped up finally, grabbing Billy by the back of his shirt and shoving him forward as he marched to the forefront. He patted Pietro on the arm as he passed him.

ABIGAIL: A brow rose. “I think she was asking for a different one, so this one has already been noted and passed over. You’re an Avenger Jr, aren’t you?”

BILLY: Billy shrugged off Tommy's grip, smoothing out the panes of his oversized shirt out of habit. "You really want me to go up against that? The best I can do is get a read on it and tell you what's going on, but in no way can I combat it."

SCOTT: Scott glared at Lorna after her thinly veiled threat, but gave Peter a knowing nod. Insults aside, if there were lives at risk, many many lives, he’d go. It’s what Cassie would want him to do.

TOMMY: “No one is asking you to fight it, just — you know—“ Tommy waved his hands around excessively “Do the wiggly woo. At least getting a read on it is more than what they’ve got.” He jabbed a finger at Monica and Woo.

MONICA: Her patience was fraying. Like she had initially said, Monica wasn’t asking for permission. “What, Carol? You want to go in and play the hero? Jimmy and I have been studying this anomaly for months -- watching the tapes, analyzing the context. I appreciate the concern but you’re a lot of things, Carol Danvers, and my mom isn’t one of them. I’m not asking for permission here and I’m willing to take that risk. Dr. Lewis is a genius, but if she’s under the spell she’s just as trapped as anyone else. My mother created S.W.O.R.D. with a purpose and Tyler Hayward is dragging its name through the mud and letting this get out of hands. I’m doing it.”

BILLY: "She'd know, Tommy. The minute I started messing with it she'd know. And I just-" he wrenched his hands together, wondering if he was making the right decision here. "-What if she keeps hurting people because we keep trying to interfere? We'd have a better chance trying to reach our recently reality created 10 year old selves."

PETER: “You can do that?” Peter raised an eyebrow, staring Billy down with renewed intensity before turning his attention to Carol and the others, “I mean, couldn’t that be your contingency plan?”

SUSAN: “You need to be careful,” Susan mused, agreeing with Billy. “Getting close to the Hex, trying to interact with it. You ‘getting a read on it’ may feel like an invasion or attack to Wanda and she’s clearly against those. I have no idea how they got a tracker on Vision. Speaking of which,” she shook her head. “We have to talk about what happened to him. He fell apart when he tried to leave. Does Wanda have his body, or is he... We have to broach the idea that the Vision is still dead and what you’ve witnessed is just a construct of him. If that’s true, Wanda’s going to have to lose him again and I’m unsure as to how she’d respond to that.”

STEVE: Steve watched Monica speak and felt the stress bound tight in her voice from across the table. He’d been thinking about it a lot since the meeting started, weighing all their options. Pietro would have been his first bet but if wanda wasn’t willing to accept him, then they had to try to find another way. Steve looked between her and Woo, nodding slowly “It’s your mission, you know it better than anyone. What do you need on our end?”

CAROL: The corner of Carol's jaw ticked, the grip of her arms crossed over her chest tightening. "Play the hero?" This was usually where Sam stepped in, indicating the rise of Carol's tone, the heat that reached her words. But her mention of the Accords had separated them and her casual retention of where Sam was in the space of the room had dissipated. "This isn't about being your mom, Monica. This is about being your teammate. You called us here, you asked us for help, and if I have questions, I'm going to damn well ask them. If you want to lead an effort against Wanda Maximoff, then act like a leader with a team behind you, not this I am an island bullshit."

TOMMY: “And what is she gonna do, Billy? Attack you? She knows we’re real. It’s just Pietro she hates for once right now.”

PIETRO: “Hey-“ Pietro swatted for him but Tommy was already on the move in anticipation.

TOMMY: Tommy zipped to the other side of Billy, knowing full well he’d only evaded Pietro’s pursuit out of sheer laziness on his part. “Don’t be a baby.” He said to his brother.

PETER: “Hey!” Peter stood up, rolling up a sleeve and quickly sending a small mass of webbing in the direction of Tommy’s torso - not to detain him or hurt him in any way, more of a message. One that said - “Don’t be a dick, dude.”

MONICA: A low hum reverberated in her throat as Monica scoffed. “Yes, playing the hero. Showing up, smashing through spaceships, saving the day. Let’s get one thing straight here, Captain Danvers. We’re not teammates. I’m not an Avenger who goes on the run or retreats into space. Jimmy and I are agents who work with boots on the ground for the dirty day to day operations you guys miss when you swing in for the big battle. And that’s not an attack on what you do. We need every piece of the puzzle. But we’re situational allies here and that means we have diametrical differences that aren’t going away.” Monica needed their help. Desperately, really. She just couldn’t handle the holier than thou mentality that came from having an Infinity Stone fuel her. “Ask your questions, Captain. If it wasn’t for us Wanda would be out there hurting more people and you would be just as clueless as when she started. I want this fixed.” Exhaling, Monica smoothed her hands over her rumpled jeans and looked to Steve. “S.W.O.R.D. has resources outside. A few less since the Hex expanded, but we’re flying blind here.”

BILLY: "I don't know." Billy admitted quietly in response to Peter. "I've been doing this for a while but it's not easy. Reality warping is...confusing and complicated and if you pull the wrong thread you could ruin everything. Break everything. The idea that there's a pair of us existing in that town with the same exact abilities is weird as hell, but we have to be connected to them, don't we?" He shifted to look at Tommy. "I'm not worried about me. I'm worried about the town, Tommy."

TOMMY: Tommy heard the shout, turned his head and — well, look, if you’re gonna throw something at a speedster, don’t give him a heads up? He took several seconds to watch the webbing slowly unfurl itself and outstretch like some weird webby hand and before it could get more than two feet from him, he was side swiping Billy in front of him, bracing for impact. Snickering before it had even hit him, by the time he realized what happened Billy would likely already have a face full of webbing. “Ah—no habla ingles!” Tommy shouted to the spider.

PETER: Peter cringed in sympathy as the webbing missed its target, nodding apologetically at Billy, “oh god —Sorry, man.”

LORNA: “I’m no expert here,” Lorna swung both of her boots towards the ground. “But it seems like she doesn’t want any connection or tie to any of us. If she’s making a perfect world with cute weird looking sons, why would she tie them to the real flawed ones she already had? It’s not like she wanted you two around.” She shoved a chair towards Tommy’s thighs with a flick of her fingers. “Sit down and shut up.”

CAROL: The classic temper that always flared during meetings like this was a blaze of heat in the back of Carol's throat. With a burst of energy she stood abruptly, knocking her chair out from behind her. "You've got a lot to say for knowing nothing at all, Monica." When had their relationship become so strained, she didn't know. But Carol was seething under her skin and it took everything not to let that out. "We're grateful to have been informed of Wanda's whereabouts and we're here to help, but we need a concrete plan before you disappear in there. I'm tired of losing people, Monica. That's all."

TOMMY: Tommy narrowed his eyes at his aunt, striking a scary resemblance to Pietro in that exact moment as they both stood with their arms crossed and a look of annoyance etched into their features. As the chair skirted across the floor toward him, he side stepped it and simple said, “Well if it isn’t the insecure one with something to say. Is this an ill directed lashing out because you’re not daddy’s favorite anymore?” Tommy snickered.

PIETRO: Pietro scoffed a laugh, stifling the smile that tugged at his features despite any actual concern for the emotional response they might elicit.

MONICA: Unable to bite her tongue, Monica took a step forward so that edge of the table dug into her thighs. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, Carol.” She had been referring to her by her title, but if she wouldn’t do the same Monica was happy to drop the Captain from Danver’s name. “And some massive balls. I may not agree with you, but I wouldn’t come in front of your peers and say you know nothing at all. Because I, at the very least, maintain a sliver of respect for you.” Shaking her head, Monica took a step back. “Must be exhausting to lose people when you’ve pushed most of them away. You want a written report? Fine. I’ll type up an official dossier and email it.”

LORNA: “--I’m still the favorite.” Lorna bristled. “I’m not the one being labeled as a domestic terrorist by the government. Nor did I decimate our people. Instant points.”

STEVE: “Okay,” Steve started, gently waving his palms. “ Monica—whatever resources you need just let us know and we’ve got you covered.” Steve was doing his best to change the course of direction for the conversation before it steered to far south.

SAM: Even though he didn’t want to say anything, Sam left the spot he had found by Steve and Nat to stand opposite both Monica and Carol. “Stop. Both of you. Take a step back.” He nodded in Steve’s direction. “I’m with Rogers, Captain Rambeau. You want help, we got your back.”

TOMMY: “Ooh you’re less powerful therefore you didn’t make a huge mistake. Sick burn. I’m sure you’ve never done that before.” Tommy rolled his eyes.

BILLY: "Tommy," Billy said calmly, which was more telling than his normal, quiet voice. "All this talk about reality warping and you're getting real bold." He muttered something under his breath and the webbing dissipated. "You're just adding to the list of 'ways to make Tommy's newfound love life even more awkward than it already is." he shifted his gaze away from his brother and resettled in his seat, annoyed but throwing it off quickly. "We were never biologically hers, it makes sense why she'd want that for herself. But they're still us...aren't they?"

CRYSTALIA: The baby had needed to be fed and Crystalia had excused herself to the back of the room. She wasn’t self-conscious, but the situation was strange enough without an Inhuman royal exposing herself in the middle of a now heated conversation. “You’re acting like children.” She shook her head, Luna now out of the sling and in her arms. “Wanda is family. Vision too, I suppose. If they’re hurting it’s your responsibility to ease it.” The Inhumans had strong and pointed views about family, to say the least.

CAROL: "Yeah, this just screams respect. Drop the act-" she was ignoring both Sam and Steve at this point, her tunnel vision only focused on one thing. "-And get professional about this. Do you think I care if you respect me? Do you think I care if you think all I do is throw my abilities around to what, show off? Only show up for the big showdown? Fine. Paint whatever picture of me you want to in your mind to get you through your day, but drop it for now. This isn't about what I do or don't do with the powers, this is about resolving a hostage situation and this is the last place to bring in personal matters. Drop it, for fucks sake."

TOMMY: Tommy rolled his eyes “Please, i don’t have shame.” He waved it off and quickly resumed his serious demeanor at the comment of not actually being Wanda’s children. “Yes we were. Not in body, but soul. Otherwise, explain.” He wagged his finger between both their faces. “I bet if you tested our genetics we’d even read as twins on that. She may not have given birth to us but I shouldn’t have to explain reality warping to a reality warper. Our biological parents brought us into this world but we wouldn’t be us if it wasn’t for her. All I’m saying is she isn’t going to destroy you for the version she made in there — on some level she knows it isn’t real. she’s not going to hurt you.”

SCOTT: Scott could tell Crystalia was feeling a bit restrained by the presence of her infant daughter. Being a parent himself, the instinct to help was all too powerful, and he stepped toward the Inhuman royal and gently tapped the redhead on the shoulder, “Mind if I—?” Gesturing to Luna, he gave her the option to free herself up for a brief bit.

PIETRO: Pietro’s eyes instantly narrowed at Scott as he so much as breathed near Crystalia, much less the baby. In a small gust of wind, he appeared behind the ant man, hands clasped comfortably behind his back. Pietro cleared his throat.

CRYSTALIA: She was a bit taken aback when her shoulder was tapped, but Crystal only blinked once before handing the baby over without much of a second thought. She had been raised by wet nurses. While she wanted to more present she still found the constant extra assistance had made her a little lackadaisical in who had the baby. Noticing that Pietro had moved behind Scott, Crystal shrugged. “He offered. She wouldn’t stop screaming before we got here.”

PIETRO: Pietro watched in horrific slow motion as Crystalia....simply....handed...Luna over. He gaped at her from behind Scott, quickly masking the gut struck shock as he quickly became irritated. “Ah—who the hell is this?” Pietro asked, tilting his head at the strange man holding his daughter.

CRYSTALIA: “--he’s....” Crystal looked to the man holding her week old daughter in hope’s that he would finish the sentence. “One of the good guys if he’s here. And he knows how to hold a baby.”

PIETRO: “Two theories in which you decided to test at once with our newborn child?” His brows slipped up into his hairline.

SCOTT: Scott gently accepted the baby and cradled her against his shoulder, memories of holding Cassie as an infant came flooding back instantly. He glanced at Pietro for a moment, then back at Crystalia, “I’ve got a daughter of my own - “ he replied, careful not to speak over the greater conversation, “ - it’s instinct at this point.” A warm grin was sent in the mother’s direction as Scott’s gentle swaying lulled the baby into a much calmer state, “See? Nothing to worry about.”

MONICA: There were so many instances in her life where Monica had learned to choke back her rage and dampen the sparks in her blood that were waiting to turn into an inferno. Maria had taught her daughter a lot about what it looked like to be a Black woman in modern America and the privileges they were denied -- especially when it came to perception and actions. Carol had none of those restraints and she blew up - literally and physically - whenever she felt like it. Not Monica. She didn’t have that daily luxury. “Once, Carol,” her voice was tired. “I did. It would have meant the world to me. You were one of my favorite people in the galaxy and I cared so goddamn much. It sucks to grow up. It’s because of my mother -- because of Maria that I put your name on the invite list. Because she means everything to me, no matter how I feel about you. I’m being polite because that is what my mother instilled in me. Common courtesy, respect. There’s a lot I want to say but I ain’t got nothing to drop here. Captain Wilson. Rogers.” She clasped her hands so tightly her nails dug into her palms. “Thank you. Do you have any kind of monitoring tech available?”

TOMMY: “Billy. c’mere.” Tommy placed a hand on either shoulder and brought his brother a verging on uncomfortable proximity. He stared straight into his eyes. “Why would Wanda destroy the town she wants to live a fake life in to save it? How does that make sense?”

PETER: Peter tentatively approached Scott, Crystalia, and Pietro, “That’s Scott Lang. Ant-Man. He’s a good dude. Trust me,” he noted, reassuringly as they watched Scott continue tending to the child. “He’s a bit weird,” Peter shrugged, watching with confusion as Scott began singing some gibberish of a lullaby, “—but you have nothing to worry about. Promise.”

CAROL: For a brief, inkling of a moment, Carol felt herself deflate, the tender memories of her brief stint on Earth back in the 90's reforming in her mind. She'd never truly forgotten them, but Carol wasn't a selfish hero that swooped in for glory and fame. She cared about the souls she saved, and that had built so many relationships in her mind that she'd momentarily lapsed on why Monica, of all people, would be so callous and cold. Instead of inflating again, like she happened to do naturally, Carol simply closed her mouth and sat back down, grinding her molars as the anger rolled through her.

STEVE: Steve nodded “We do.We can get you and Woo set up in one of our intel rooms upstairs, should have anything you’d need.” he said to Monica.

BILLY: Staring into a face that was damn near identical to his own save for a few minor cosmetic differences was something Billy would never get used to, not even after spending almost 5 years with Tommy as a twin. They had a natural connection, one they'd always had since being born, but it'd never made sense until they were face to face. He sighed again, rubbing thin fingers into his eyes and down his cheeks. "Wanda wants Vision. Wanda wants her kids. Wanda doesn't care about the fact that we're right here -- we've always been right here, Tommy. I know it's not the same for her, I can't argue that, but if we try to take that away from her, or if she thinks we are, she might just say fuck it and poof," he made a motion with his hands. "If she can't have it no one can, you know?"

SAM: The deescalation was already underway. Sam still crouched by Carol’s chair, dark head bowing towards hers. “Cool off. Whatever family drama you got, let it go.” He knew about Maria Rambeau. Monica too, by extension. He just didn’t know where it went south. “You really think the Sokovian Accords are relevant here, huh?”

PIETRO: “Ant-man.” he repeated, musing over the name. Pietro looked at the kid with the webs and surveyed him up and down. “I don’t know you either.” Tolerating the scene before him for only several more seconds, Pietro had lost the thin thread of patience he’d been holding on to, to being with. “I’d like it if you handed me my daughter back, now.” Pietro said. It wasn’t exactly a secret he was obnoxiously protective, and if anyone had thought that was annoying with Wanda, they were in for it with Luna. Actual light of his life.

SCOTT: Scott paused in his subtle rocking of the child against his shoulder, nodding at Pietro’s repeating of his hero moniker, “Mhm. That’s the name, don’t wear it out,” he joked, but his light expression fell when the speedster all but demanded his child back, “Oh, uh - sure, yeah. Of course.” He was only trying to help, but not one to want to get on someone’s bad side, he quickly acquiesced, gently passing Luna to her father.

CAROL: Carol's gaze flicked to Sam, the anger from her confrontation with Monica still present beneath her skin. She tried to reign it in, but it felt impossible in the moment. "The Accords were put on the table for a reason, Sam. We watched Wanda's powers get out of control the first time and she killed innocent people. Now she's taken a town hostage. I understand what you and Rogers fought for, but it's not ridiculous to think that maybe regulating abilities is more important than free rein. She's hurting people, Sam. She's destroying families, all for a fake life. If we had regulations in place before this, this wouldn't have happened."

CRYSTALIA: “Pietro.” Crystalia sighed, watching the baby get passed from one set of hands to the other. “Thank you, Mr. Lang. I appreciate it. It’s exhausting to be a mother at these functions.” That being said, it was really her first time with the baby in public and she felt oddly self-conscious about being seen in the light of motherhood.

PETER: The friendly smile on Peter’s face quickly dropped as Pietro briefly addressed him. As heroes go, he was pretty well known, in more ways than one unfortunately, and Peter could say the same for Quicksilver. The rebuke stung briefly, but Peter shook it off, turning his attention back to the growing conflict at hand, concealed web shooters at the ready if need be.

SCOTT: Scott nodded to Crystalia politely, opting to ignore Pietro, “I understand completely. If you need anything else - just ask.”

PIETRO: His demeanor relaxed the moment Luna was pulled into his arms. In truth, it had nothing to do with Scott — he didn’t like anyone holding his daughter, much less strangers. He’d barely let Erik look at her. “Why do they call you Ant-man?” Pietro asked scott, a deep crease forming between his brows. “Do you...turn into an ant?” he asked puzzled. Then he looked at Peter “And you—what is that you shot at my nephew earlier?”

SAM: “You know who I am.” Sam’s voice was gentle but firm. “You know what I believe in and what I don’t. Even with regulations, Wanda could have gone rogue. We needed better support systems, ways to handle trauma. I was a PTSD group leader and I didn’t even check in on my friends the way I should.” Why was it, still, that Sam felt everyones wellbeing was his duty? “Wanda’s powerful enough to get around Accords or laws. We knew that. We knew her, and now we’ve got to help. Coming to blows with Rambeau won’t do anything on that front.”

SCOTT: “Oh,” Scott spun around to face Pietro, mildly shocked the speedster was addressing him again, “Ha, I wish—“ he joked, but the tone quickly fell flat, “—uh, no actually. I can shrink. Really really small. Subatomic even. Although, that? Not as fun. So not as fun.”

CAROL: Carol kept her gaze affixed to his, finally relinquishing the tension in her shoulders and letting out a breath through her nose. "We've seen what this world looks like with no laws in place and now we see what Krakoa looks like with laws in place. It's hard not to compare the two." In this instance, she was speaking generally, not about Wanda in particular. "We had no clue what happened. We had an agency reach out to us to tell us that one of our own had become a terrorist. There's too many of us for one man, even two-" she was referring to Sam and Steve in that moment, "-to keep track of. Too many for any of us to keep track of. We need better support systems and we need better regulations on abilities. Sam, we can't have people like Wanda or Jean Grey running around freely. Do you not remember what happened with the Phoenix?"

PETER: Peter was reluctant to reveal his web shooters, instinctively tugging his sweatshirt sleeves down past his wrists, his hands practically swimming in the fabric, “Just web fluid,” he addressed Pietro as well, ever so slightly timid in his response, “My own invention.”

PIETRO: Pietro’s look of confusion remained as he mused over lang’s response. “What does that do? —getting small.” He was genuinely curious. “Might someone....step on you?” He asked.

SAM: He leaned back slightly, thighs aching dully. It had been leg day, unfortunately. Almost every day was now. “No offense, Carol, but you really don’t. You weren’t here. Ultron, Sokovia, the Accords. You weren’t here and we were, tryin’ to make it by.” He pursed his lips together. “I believe in justice. Balance, order. But we can’t have them running around freely? Really, Carol? What do you propose? They get locked up for the rest of their lives? For the most part they didn’t ask for it and they’re good intentioned. I know Wanda. Well, actually. No matter how big this mess, she’s still a person.”

PIETRO: When the boy answered him, he watched him tug at his sleeves while Luna played with Pietro’s pale hair.  “You made that? By yourself?”

CAROL: She pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. "No, of course not. We knew Wanda had reality warping abilities. We did nothing about it. We just let her...be. Now let me ask you something -- that kid over there," she gestured towards Billy again. "He loses that boyfriend he cares so much about. Who's to say he wouldn't do the same exact thing for the same reason? Maybe he loses Tommy too and we end up in Westview 2.0. But we knew all along he could warp reality and we just....trust he'll never do anything nefarious with it? There has to be a middle ground here, Sam. We can't just pretend like good people won't go bad. Especially when those people have powers that could destroy everything."

SCOTT: “Suuure?” Scott replied, wary of the implication, “But I don’t know if I’d recommend it. I’m pretty damn strong at that size. You know how ants are... it’s the schtick.”

TOMMY: At the second jab at Billy, Tommy got mad. “Hey!—“Tommy slapped two hands on the table and stared Carol down directly. “What is your problem? My brother hasn’t done shit. You’re the one with an atomic bomb rolling around inside you and you’re sitting here prattling on about people being too dangerous to go on freely. You’ve been on this planet for what, like two seconds and already you’re trying to get people kicked off it?”

PETER: Peter knew the silver haired man had seen them - he wasn’t doing too good of a job at being stealthy. But the risk of this backfiring on him didn’t feel super high. His spidey senses weren’t on high alert anymore, so what was the harm? Showing the tech to Pietro, he smiled softly, boundlessly proud of the creation that had become so ingrained in his being, “Yeah, I did. Took a while to figure the web formula out,” he gently prodded at the trigger, but not hard enough to release any webbing, “-and the rest is history.”

ERIK: “With all due respect, Miss Grey is a matter of Mutant relations and will be kept out of this conversation. Especially from the mouths of those that don’t actually understand her situation or the trials she has faced involving the Phoenix Force.” Erik had been quiet for some time, choosing the diplomatic approach of listening so that he could later inform the Council and Charles of the matters involving Wanda.

PIETRO: “No, not really. I’m not overly familiar with ants.” Pietro admitted, and he was still struggling to figure out how being tiny was useful. “So shrink, but get stronger?” he cocked his head.

CAROL: That was it, the last shred of patience Carol had. She stood so quickly her chair kicked back far enough away that there was little hope of her reseating again before this meeting commenced. "We're talking about the fact that your mother is destroying people's lives and we could do nothing to stop it because we had no means to. You think that couldn't easily happen again?" She shifted her gaze to Billy, who was straightening his shoulders, unperturbed by her eyes on him. "We always put our faith in the good guys and then the good guys lose a couple of people and we get our asses kicked. People die. We bury them. We memorialize them. We mourn them. And then we rinse and repeat the process and at some point it needs to fucking stop." God she was so angry again. "

TOMMY: “It won’t, and I hate to break it to you but if you can’t stomach it, get out then. Go live on some other planet somewhere like you did before. We’re perfectly capable of handling it on our own. You keep throwing Wanda around like she woke up one day and decided to take over a bunch of peoples lives and didn’t just wake up in that fucking bubble and have to figure it out at she went along. We’ve all got shit — we all lose people. I blew up a fucking school on accident the first time I got my powers and they stuck me in a prison and poked and prodded me with needles and metal. Is that what you fucking want!? You want all of us to get locked up becuase we make you scared!? You sound like the mutant haters and we have plenty of them! We don’t need more.” He was yelling now, his temper well past a peak. His hands were beginning to shake and as much as he’d love to blast the fucking table into a billion splinters it’d just prove her right. he waved his hands around as they spasmed “Oh no, I better not fuck anything up or Carol’s gonna come put me in fucking jail—what, you’ve never fucked up Danvers??? You never made a mistake? Must be fucking nice!” By now Steve had stood and started to pull Tommy away, and Tommy did little to fight him, though it was bold of the former Captain to touch him right now considering it could destabilize him in a blink.

STEVE: “Alright, take a couple breaths.” Steve told him.

CRYSTALIA: As Carol once again blew up Crystal edged closer to Pietro, reaching out to take her daughter. “Give me my baby.” She commanded gently, knowing Pietro was more likely to get involved in the situation.

PIETRO: Pietro handed Luna over to Crystalia and stayed firmly planted in front of them — his nephew certainly had his temper and a few abilities he hadn’t even discovered yet. “He’s fine.” Pietro assured her.

WANDA: They were gathering. Of course they were gathering. It had only been a matter of time. Still, shivers ran down in her spine as she was doused with the cold dread that hid under the silver screen smile she had glued on. Monica’s time in Westview had left an imprint of sorts, an afterimage Wanda could still trace. They had stood outside the Hex and threatened her. Now they were calling to arms less than a hundred miles away and she was laying in her bed staring at the ceiling, half tempted to speed up time so it was morning and the opening credits could roll. Vision was still beside her. Synthezoid's didn’t sleep, per se, but they did turn off at night to process the days information. With a heavy sigh she rolled out of bed and wrapped her body in her robe, the ever throbbing vein of anger that had pulsed through her for the last two months rapidly gaining speed. Red ate its way across the town as everyone stilled in their beds. Would they dream? Maybe. Maybe she would let them as she made her way past Ellis Ave. The border glowed red with static as she approached, one palm resting against it. The Hex was alive. It hummed and spoke to her, reality warping under her fingertips before it bent and allowed her to cross through. Her robe and pajamas were gone, replaced with her corset and long coat. The flight to their location took little time but felt like an eternity. For every second she was away from her home there was a paralyzing fear that someone would sneak in and erase all her hard work. Boots touched down on the gum crusted sidewalk only a second before she snapped her wrists and red broke the door open. “It’s not nice,” she strode in as the wind from the now broken door blew in. “To speak about someone when they’re not present. Not like this.” Some faces there were familiar but her blinders were on. “I told you to leave me alone. That was your warning. I took care of S.W.O.R.D. Don’t make me turn you into clowns as well.”

PIETRO: Maybe he felt her coming before she did — or maybe he was still on edge from the outburst between Carol and Tommy, but every hair on his body stood up on end just seconds before she came through the door. A heavy blanket of ice chilled the room to a stand still and he half expected to see his breath fog up the air as he exhaled. His hand stilled on Crystalia as he stared at her, Wanda — and then. and then, and then, and then — before he could even think about thinking about it, he was standing in front of her. a little gust of wind kicked a few tendrils of her strawberry red hair and he just stared at her. For several seconds it was like water stilling in a lake, his chest rose and fell to the rhythm of hers and for the first time in six years they breathed the same airspace. “Wanda....” he was afraid to speak, like his voice would blow the mirage away and he’d have hallucinated the whole thing.

CAROL: Every bone in her body was demanding, insisting, Carol send a flare of energy over her limbs, but as she turned to face Wanda, she commanded her abilities to stay down, deep down. The last thing they needed was a confrontation, not when Wanda could erase the very fabric of their existence. She followed Pietro with her eyes but made no move at all, which was an unnatural but strategic response.

STEVE: When the door blasted open, Steve half thought Tommy blew a fuse—or Carol, but to be fair he was the one shaking violently. When he turned and saw Wanda walk in, his jaw nearly dropped. Then, instantly, his head snapped to Pietro — only to find his spot empty. Instead, the twins stood toe to toe in the center of the room and everyone held their breath praying it’d be enough.

BILLY: Billy rose slowly from his seat, gently tugging on the sleeve of Tommy's shirt as he did so. Taking a step back, he watched Wanda carefully as he spoke lowly to his brother. "She left the town. Tommy, we have an opportunity."

WANDA: Monster. Terrorist. Out of her mind. Monster. Delusional --. Everyone had an opinion, didn’t they? Ratings were hard to keep up. The world was composed of critics and this was no different. If there was one thing that could have stilled her to silence it was him. The only problem was that he was’t here. Here he was, her twin, haunting her waking dreams. “Not now, frate,” she tsked. Still, one hand rose as if to brush his cheek before falling to her side. Her train of thought was derailed when she saw the twins, heads bent towards one another in that familiar tableau of mischief. “Boys?” Surprise laced her voice, accent instantly falling away to be replaced with the smooth American syllables they knew her to have. “Why aren’t you at home?”

CRYSTALIA: It was out of instinct that Crystal took a step back, tucking Luna against herself. Wanda had no reason to hurt the baby, but she still felt a sharp maternal instinct. She was outmatched. That went without question.

TOMMY: Tommy was in shock to see her to say the least, and if it weren’t for Billy tugging on his shirt, he may have stood there with his mouth agape until drool came out of it. It took him a quarter of a second to process the words after they’d left his mouth, but as he did he wasted no time — Tommy grabbed Billy by the back of the shirt and jerked them both to a more hidden corner of the room. With Steve, Natasha, Sam, Carol, and —jesus christ, everyone gathered around their mother, they made for a good wall. “Do it.”

LORNA: Nearly falling out of her chair, Lorna straightened up and looked to Erik for guidance. Her hands clenched into fists, green nearly sparking from them. If she hadn’t been afraid of Wanda seeing and overreacting she would have done something. Instead, she just stayed wary with the metal chairs on standby.

PIETRO: As Wanda addressed him, a wave of — something settled in his stomach, like spoiled milk. It took the breath out of his lungs and nearly dazed him. He stared at her, for once his brain struggled to process the moments at all, much less quickly. He’d waited for this, wanted it for weeks now— months. It’d been an ache that never fully left him. It rose with him when he pried himself out of bed in the morning and it snaked through his blood stream when he went to sleep at night. The dismissal was killing him. “Wanda, please. Just talk to me for five minutes, hmm? — five minutes.” he’d lost the delicate approach from before, too easily slipping into the comfort of being able to take hold of her wrist, he nearly held it to his chest, once again coming between his sister and the mix of Avengers and X-Men behind him. “I know you think this isn’t real, I know, but it is — I can prove it. lasă-mă să te aduc acasă. nu trebuie să fii singur. nu esti singur.” (let me bring you home, you don’t have to be alone. you’re not alone.)

BILLY: Billy blinked dumbly at this woman he'd had tea with regularly only a few months before - until the two days a week meetings turned into one and then turned into every other week, and then once a month, and then not at all. Billy had Teddy and Tommy had his new relationship he wasn't doing much to hide and Billy was still experimenting with his abilities --- he'd chosen to fall into the busy life and not wonder about what Wanda was up to. She was so smart, and capable, and strong. He just assumed she was busy, like he inevitably was. He heard her accent slip away and for the briefest of moments, Billy wanted to step towards her, wanted to lean in to the warmth and concern in her tone. This was the woman holding a town hostage? This was the...terrorist? Swallowing, Billy opened his mouth to speak, "Wa-Mom, what are you do-" but before he could finish, Tommy was pulling him back, knocking him right back into his senses. "Did you not feel that?" Billy asked his brother, his hand coming up to rub against his chest, momentarily forgetting what his original plan had been.

TOMMY: Tommy’s body froze as Wanda addressed them. Similarly to the way a toddler would if his mother caught him on the chair digging into the cookie jar. It was a warmth that crept over the back of his brain, tangled with the twinge of a burn — like alcohol slipping down his throat. Warm, but uncomfortable. “I don’t like this.” Tommy muttered to his brother. He felt like a mouse in front of a hawk and all he wanted to do was turn invisible — why?? Why couldn’t that be his power. Tommy’s grip tightened on Billy’s shirt and his legs twitched with the urge to fucking bolt to James right then and there. but he didn’t. His knees locked up and he just fucking stood there. “Billy, do something.”

PETER: Everyone was walking on eggshells right now, and Wanda’s startling shift in tone and accent sent a shiver down Peter’s spine. But he didn’t let up, eyes flicking around the room to gauge any potential items of use he could web and fling in Wanda’s direction. The only other thing on his mind right now was how horribly horribly wrong this could all go. Wanda could sneeze and erase them all from existence if she really wanted to, and MJ’s voice echoed in the back of his mind, offering him words of encouragement wrapped in her usual dry wit. It was something positive to latch onto, but it didn’t do much to quell the absolute panic in Peter’s bones.

WANDA: She had a purpose. Of course she had a purpose if she had come all this way from the comfort of her warm bed, next to her loving husband while her two boys slept in a nearby room. That was where she belonged. Not here in this dirty room with people who wanted to burn her at the stake like a common witch. They didn’t get it. They didn’t have to. In the end, they didn’t matter. None of them mattered. Not when she finally got to make the rules. “I don’t have five minutes,” she muttered, more to herself than to him. Then his hand was on her wrist and her body was spinning to face him, face to chest. How many times had she rested her head in the crook of his neck, breathing becoming more even as he guided her through the panic? Pietro had always been there... until he hadn’t. He was gone and she was tugging her hand away from him. “I have a home.” She replied firmly in English, tone glossy and bright. “I have a family. A husband, a brother. Sons. And that’s real. This? All of this is irrelevant. You can keep it. I know what I want.” Gloved hands coming together, Wanda drew them apart as a line of red magic extended between the appendages before shooting across the room. Scarlet covered the surfaces as they became clean and put together. It looked the conference room in the Avengers Compound before Thanos had destroyed it. Her mind pieced together glass and metal furniture as it remembered one of the last places she had been put on a public trial. The ripple that crossed the room moved the people to the side, a path clearing between Wanda and her sons. “I’m sure none of this makes sense,” she spoke slowly as if aiming to not spook them. “I can explain it in the morning. Your father is going to be worried.” There were threads moving between her and the twins, connecting the three in magic. Wanda funneled the time she had spent with the new twins towards them, reality slowly webbing them in. “And he won’t be happy you aged yourself again. Let’s go home.” She was standing before them then, arms extended.

TOMMY: You know, he was kind of hoping Pietro would have pulled it off. “Oh, no—n-n-no” he could feel her creeping in, it was like trying to outrun a hurricane with his thoughts, he could feel them all slipping away like walking into a room and forgetting why. Just when he’d find something else to hold on to, it’d slip away in exchange for another—and another, and another. The room started to shift and he felt the panic bubble up. It was like drowning on land. Tommy felt himself get ripped forward, and it didn’t matter what he did there was no escaping it. What little still stuck around from his current life had him gripping onto the ledge of the table for dear fucking life until the fear of losing his grip became so great, it just obliterated right out from beneath his finger tips. He gasped, sent one last look to billy and then that was it. Curtains drawn. Lights out. Let the credits roll.

PETER: Everything that had been moving in slow motion was now progressing much too quickly for Peter’s liking. Grunting in frustration with the others as the red magic pushed them aside, Peter watched the Scarlet Witch approach the twins. Her comment on their ages didn’t bode well, but neither did the ‘let’s go home.’ Before he could formulate another thought however, Tommy vanished in the blink of an eye, and Peter panicked, surging forward with a shout, “Wanda! Wanda, wait!”

BILLY: Billy could feel the familiar weave of magic as it mingled with his own, his mutant abilities reaching out to greet Wanda's like an embrace after years of being apart. The walls around him were tinted a shade of yellow, slightly dulled by a stream of pale light. He could hear the patter of feet across hardwood floor right onto carpet and the familiar burnt smell of toast filled his senses. But it felt so welcoming, so warm. At some point, Billy had reached down and interlocked his fingers with Tommy, so when he took a step forward, his own magic reaching out to meet Wanda's, he was pulling Tommy along with him, his eyes fixed on Wanda's glowing red hues. "Dad," his voice didn't sound like his own, but the magic swirling around him was so familiar and comfortable he couldn't even find the urge to resist it. "He'll be so worried." They were only a few steps away from Wanda then and Billy reached out with his free hand, extending it towards her. "Let's go home." he parroted.

WANDA: It was a sweet relief when the twins relented. Wanda loved them in an intense, soul crushing sort of way. She had been thankful to not know loss in her life ( her parents. pietro. the vision. )  and the idea of losing them sent her reeling. What would she do if they were gone? She couldn’t even pretend to know. It was Tommy she reached first, his embrace brief as she felt his mind slip away. Tommy, her first born. Billy, the one Vision had loved so dearly that she had no choice but to manifest in her womb, the perfect counterpart for her son. Billy understood. He was a sensitive boy and the red light in her eyes were reflected in his own. “He loves you dearly, you know that.” She leaned over, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Take care of your brother. I’ll see you two in the morning.” With that the image of the boys flashed red as static overtook their body and they dissolved from sight. Eyes returning to green, Wanda glanced around the room. “Sorry about that. Kids, am I right?” Her laugh was strained as she looked to the boy who had burst out. “I’m sorry, where were we?”

PETER: Peter swallowed harshly, reaching up to remove the hat from his head, hair mussed with sweat. Fiddling with the brim in a gesture more akin to some starving Victorian orphan, Peter proceeded with utmost caution, “Wanda! You don’t have to do this. You’re not alone out here. I promise. Bring Tommy and Billy back, Wanda. Please.”

CAROL: Carol watched the twins dissipate with a slightly widened expression, one that didn't betray too much but her sheer shock was simmering just below the surface. "Wanda," she said, almost breathlessly, having watched the only person with first hand knowledge of her abilities willingly disappear into Wanda's fake world. "Wanda what did you do,"

PIETRO: Watching it all was one thing, but to do so slowly? Even worse. He knew it’d been a shot in the dark, but he didn’t think here and now with all these minds available to her that she’d still just see a ghost. Her mind was so imbedded in West View he couldn’t even feel her slinking around in his head like he used to. Not that she ever violated his privacy but it wasn’t like he’d ever put up a wall between them. And to be honest neither had she, not until now.  But she couldn’t avoid him forever. Try as she might there was a subconscious part of her that was reaching for him, there had to be. Because he wasn’t the one initiating a dream cycle every night. Couldn’t if he tried. He watched her take them, tendrils of red reaching out with sticky fingers to take the twins. Pietro watched Tommy struggle, wincing in the opposite direction as Billy seemed more accepting. And as the scarlet in the room faded out, he exhaled heavily from his seat on the floor, a weight settling down on broad shoulders. Well, fuck. “Fine.” he scoffed. “You don’t want to talk now.” he stood, nodding his head as he moved to the edge of her vision once more, only this time several feet of space separated them. “We’ll talk later. You can’t run from me—” he leaned forward some then to meet her gaze—if she would. “I’m faster.” The edge of his lip quirked just a fraction of a hair despite the bitterness and hurt that ebbed beneath. You can pretend i’m dead in your little bubble with your awful version of me, but you find me when you need me. he thought the words rather than say them, but there was no telling if she’d heard him. he took two steps back from her, falling back into place beside Crystalia and Luna.

WANDA: “You know,” one hand momentarily covered Wanda’s mouth as she thought. “The twins do need more friends. The neighborhood has been so quiet.” The boys leaving had shattered part of her illusion. They were gone and she wasn’t just Wanda Maximoff: mom anymore. She was the Scarlet Witch and this wasn’t a game, theatrics aside. Her real voice was lower, heavier. It betrayed just how much she had seen, even if the words seemed disjointed to the tone. “Thank you for volunteering.” She pointed at Peter for a split second before the Hex sucked him up, personality absorbing into the barrier. He wouldn’t wake up right away in his new bed with his new life. Unlike the twins he would be in a holding pattern, stuck in stasis until she could cast him. In that moment there was just too much going on to focus on anything except what was in front of her and keeping the town frozen. “I sent them home.” Wanda drifted through the crowd, gaze passing blankly over her father and sister. “Back to Westview, where they belong.” She paused at the sight of an infant, face softening. “And what are you doing here? She’s so little. God, I miss these days. They go by so quickly.” Way too quickly in the Maximoff case. She blinked and they were grown. The mother of the baby made a motion of protest when Wanda reached out, but red glowed underneath her temple and she handed the baby over wordlessly. “We can make this easy,” Wanda kept her gaze trained down on the sleeping face, her magic keeping the infant asleep. “But you need to let it go.”

PIETRO: No—n-n- no, no, no. His entire body went rigid as Wanda took Luna. He could have never imagined a moment in his life where he’d have believed for even a second that the sight of his baby in his twin’s arms would terrify him. Yet here he was. “Give her back.” he appeared beside them both then, voice splitting into a tremor. His already rabid heart stammered against his sternum as his tongue went dry in his mouth. He couldn’t even think straight,  “Wanda, te rog — ea este a mea.” (please. she’s mine.). The knot that formed in his throat made it difficult to breath, bleeding his fear out into every shaky exhale. He’d been terrified a number of times in his life, but this one was coming uncomfortably close to bringing him right back to Sokovia, when he was 10 with a bomb three feet from his face. “Let her go, both of them. I’m begging you. For me. Please.” He couldn’t look anymore, his eyes shut and he just hoped with everything in him she’d let them both go.

WANDA: Home was where the heart was, and right then her heart was aching to return home. This wasn’t her reality anymore. It was gray and dull. It lacked the carefully curated sheen of Westview. In some ways Wanda had become a puppet with scarlet strings tying her to the town. She couldn’t escape it even if she wanted to. But the boys were home now, the Vision as well. Even Pietro, as unsettling as his new face was. She finally had something to live for again and it pained her to be away from it. Kissing the crown of the babies head, Wanda handed her back to her motionless mother. “If she’s yours, Pietro, she belongs with her father and he’s back in Westview.” There was a flash of red before Crystal’s arms were empty and the Inhuman started back into motion.

MONICA: “Wanda.” Monica shoved her way to the front. “Stop. That was his baby. Your brothers baby. You have to give her back.” Her voice was firm, shoulders rolled back. Maybe it was too late to try and fix things, but they couldn’t combust. “She won’t hurt her.” Monica turned towards Pietro slightly. “That’s not what the Hex does, and she’s little. She’s okay.”

CRYSTALIA: One minute she was holding Luna and the next her arms were empty. There was a gap in the middle where Wanda had blocked everything off but now her eyes were wide. “---Where is my baby? Luna. You have to bring her back.”

PIETRO: “I’M HER FATHER!” the roar that erupted from his chest was explosive to say the least, and a volume that which he had never used with her before. “Why are you doing this to me!?” He could barely register Monica’s presence much less her words at this point. “You said metastasizing cells.” He whipped around to acknowledge Monica for the briefest of seconds, only to remind her of the very dangers she’d been so keen on expressing earlier. “What is this, huh — “ He looked back at Wanda “you want me to feel as alone as you did when I died, is that it, ah?” The emotions here piling on top of one another now, a mass of raw nerves that had been exposed day in and day out for weeks now and she just lit the match. On the verge of tears, the way he looked at her now, the betrayal dug deep into the lines of his face . Defeat hollowed him out. “I can’t even look at you.”

CRYSTAL: “And I’m her mother.” Pietro was yelling but Crystalia couldn’t stop crying. It was her fault. She had been holding the baby. She had let Luna go. Unable to look at Pietro, she moved towards his twin and clasped her red clad arm. “She’s two weeks old. She needs her mother. You have to send me to be with her.” Did she trust Wanda? Not in the slightest. The people in her Hex were suffering. Crystalia would suffer every day if she needed to if it meant her daughter wasn’t being neglected or forced to live with a new mother. The Inhumans could live without their Princess. Pietro could live without whatever she was to him. Crystal could not fathom living without Luna. “Please.”

WANDA: He had never yelled at her before. Never raised his voice, never yelled. Maybe snapped, but this was different. Why would a dream yell at her like that? Look at her in such utter disgust? Tears welled in Wanda’s eyes. They were always there, waiting to fall. She had hurt him judging by his response. The scarlet whisper told her it didn’t matter, but it did. He was her twin. Half of her heart, she had always said. For a moment she actually considered what it would mean if he was here and she had crossed the line of stealing his child. But that couldn’t be right. Pietro was home. He had an American accent. He was wrong, wrong, wrong. Pietro was --- Lip trembling, Wanda took a step back. Her tears had always ended their fights as children but this exceeded that. “I -- I’m trying to make people happy. She’s happy. She’s where she should be.” No, Wanda. You’re trying to make you happy. Don’t forget it. Blinking, she looked down at the hand on her arm. Light eyes trailed up her form before the Princess dissolved in red as well. “See? Just making everyone happy.”

PIETRO: For a moment he was conflicted — immediately regretful of yelling at her like that, but then glad that he had because for several seconds she seemed...present. And for a singular beat, his heart thudded with a flicker of hope—and then it was gone. It faded right out of him just as Crystalia slipped away, red tendrils swirling and evaporating like smoke. He felt stunned, akin to the aftermath of a bomb and the way his ears would ring and the world felt like it was held at an arms length. Several breaths went by and he didn’t know if he should be relieved Crystalia was with Luna or devastated they were both gone. His gaze trained vacantly in the space where she’d been, and when they shifted to Wanda they were not more lively. Merely pools of exhaustion and the soul draining fear of thinking he may actually never see either of them again. Whether they’d be different — his realities versions — or something else....if they survived. “You’re not making any one happy. You just took it.” The words fell out of his mouth with out a whisper of emotion and he turned away from her. As he walked away, he felt beyond heavy, and he didn’t have it in him to run.

WANDA: Her lips pursed together, the resole that had driven her there once again energizing her weary bones. “I’m leaving now.” She announced. “And I hope you realize how serious I am about all of this. I have what I want. No one is taking that from me.” Desperation threaded her voice, words cracking slightly. “So I’ll amend my policy. Westview is wonderful. Some of you would really enjoy a visit. Besides, it’s about time for my family to show up. People keep asking. I’m European and that’s apparently funny, but they need faces.” She also needed people with the power to stop her or the ones who could have ideas off the table. “Welcome to Westview.” She smiled at the group, serene before her magic erupted around the room. Abigail Brand, that S.W.O.R.D. director. Bucky and Sam, two familiar faces. Steve, who had always been there for her. Erik and Lorna to complete the picture of a happy family. Magik, who had threatened to stab her. Susan Storm, that scientist. They all flickered red and disappeared. The rest were left in the wake of her magic, the sound of static that had been growing louder now softening to a whisper in the background. She had been sloppy, slightly. She knew others who weren’t in the room had been pulled into the Hex as well but she’d deal. Wanda tilted her chin up in defiance. “They’re happy. They’re safe.” Lie. Maybe truth. “Leave me alone. Leave Vision alone. Don’t hurt us again.” Without waiting for a response Wanda turned, red propelling her in flight out of the room and back towards her quickly growing home.

NATASHA: Left in the aftermath, it felt all too much like the dead silent moments after Thanos had snapped his fingers the first time. Her husband was gone. He had been sitting right next to her but there wasn’t even a pile of ash left behind. “Wanda.” Her voice fell flat, knowing Wanda was gone and wouldn’t hear her. She shook her head, trying to catch her breath and remain calm. “Shit.”

SCOTT: Mouth agape, Scott stood by, staring at the place where Crystalia and her baby once stood, the spot now empty. Blinking slowly, he glanced around at the others, the silence deafening, “—- now what?”

MONICA: Breaking into a jog, Monica made it to the door and stuck her head out. “Maximoff!” She called at his retreating form. “Wanda just kidnapped your daughter and a foreign royal along with a handful of Avengers. The only time I saw anything out of Wanda was when you snapped. We need you. Luna needs you. That being said, she was still going in. She had to, especially if Wanda had upped the ante like that. “We’re going to fix this.” Her voice wavered slightly as she addressed Scott. “We’re going to -- we’re going to get this under control, okay? We’re going to keep it together.” That was aimed at Pietro. Of course it was Steve and Sam ( who had vowed to help Monica ) who had been taken. “We’ll get equipment, monitor the show. They may be trapped but we can see them. Wanda will show us if they’re okay. We don’t know that everyone in Westview will have the same biological response as me. It could have been from being thrown through the barrier.” Could have also been the former, but she was trying to ease frayed nerves. “And then we’re going to fight like hell because she doesn’t get to take from us and win. We’re gonna get them back.”

PIETRO: He stopped halfway down the hall, listening to her yell at him. Christ, where did she get the energy? After a beat, he pivoted on his foot and reappeared in the doorway as Monica delivered the rest of her speech to the room.  He noted it was about half as full as it had been, which meant his sister had gotten a case of sticky fingers and plucked them clean out. Wonderful. That was what, Steve, Sam, Bucky— that annoying blonde girl—actually, that was kind of funny. “Lead the way.” he said.

MONICA: “The episodes are edited,” Monica exhaled a sigh of relief when Pietro came back. “By Wanda. But we can keep visuals on everyone. It’s a start while we try to get in.”

NATASHA: Rising, Natasha slipped her hands into the pockets of her coat. “Scott, come back to the Compound with me. Call Hank and Jan on the way over. Maybe they can help. I’ll call you, Monica, with what I found. And Pietro...” She gnawed on her lip for a moment. “I’m choosing to believe Wanda isn’t lost. I don’t know what life looks like for her after this, but it’s not the end.” With one last tight smile she left to her apartment where Steve’s side of the bed would be cold.

SCOTT: Scott nodded, giving Natasha a halfhearted salute, “Got it, chief.”

PIETRO: Pietro surveyed Natasha, and somehow her words did help. Somehow. At any rate she’d lost something now too — at the very least if no one was inclined to help Wanda before, they all had their own stakes in getting someone out now. Maybe this was a blessing in disguise. After a moment he turned to Monica. “I don’t presume you’ll be sleeping tonight?” A not so subtle way of asking whether or not she’d begin work now or later.

MONICA: A low chuckle left her chest. “Didn’t sleep last night, so I see no need to start now. It’s my turn to get coffee. Jimmy did it last time. After that, I have a few sheets to go over. Why,” she inclined her head to the side to stretch her neck. “Need a way to pass the time? I can only read so fast.”

PIETRO: He should sleep — purely for the chance to talk to Wanda, but it’d likely be day for her in Westview. He’d have his chance later. “Lucky then that I can read a book in seconds.” Despite the light nature of the comment, it never really reached his eyes—or his tone. “I can take you to the surveillance room steve mentioned.” He offered. “There’s a coffee pot.”

MONICA: They had a lot of ground to cover and not enough time. Monica had known they were poking the bear by gathering everyone together but she had instigated anyway. Now where were they? Definitely down resources from before and with less morale. Natasha’s vow to help was nice but didn’t ease Monica’s concerns. “We’re going to fix this.” She repeated, mind stuck on a loop. “I don’t care what Wanda or Hayward says. We know what’s real.” Pietro offering to help was more than Monica expected after everything that had just gone down but she wasn’t stupid enough to turn him down. “Okay.” Resolved settled over her. “Let’s do this.”

[stone-man-warrior]

January 7, 2021: 7:49 pm:

Cries for help remain unanswered.

Twenty-five years of trying to get help while in Oregon. and more time trying while in California more than 25 years ago, all unanswered.

There remains a vacuum of assistance.

The presence of lack of rescue remains persistent.

There are no helpful people anywhere around here.

Please send help.

Please send US Military to Oregon.

Please send medical services to Oregon.

Bring your own hospital, without your own, the terror army will kill you at the hospitals if you are injured while trying to help. There are no medical services for US Citizens in Oregon, only Canadian terror army is treated for health conditions, everyone else is killed at the medical facilities. Illusion of medical treatment facilities is present throughout the state.

======================

9:50 pm:

Donald Trump “Insult to Injury” terror:

The whole nation is in such financial distress that it was decided that every citizen should receive stimulus payments, twice.

That’s pretty bad financial conditions for that to have happened.

On the other hand, it appears that things are not so bad after all, in fact, it looks like everything is financially hunky dory, as the social security beneficiaries were only granted a 1.3% cost of living increase, it maxes out at 3% for a cost of living increase for elderly and disabled persons, and is calculated by some asshole this year, because clearly the cost of living has increased more than any other year of record, and that is well documented with the stimulus payments to tens of millions of citizens.

I am getting mixed messages from my government leaders here. One team says “Holy shit!, if we don’t hand out some coins, millions of people will starve because of Corona Virus.” while another team is saying: “Yeah, but we need to save some money somewhere, so, we’ll just fuck the old people and those gimpy fucks in the wheel chairs. canes, and crutches, they are all a bunch of leaches anyway, so, fuck ‘em... give ‘em a 13 just to let them know we mean business, and not to talk about the cut rate increase... they are all a bunch of Tiny Tim wanna bee’s... fuck Tiny Tim, and everyone who looks like him.”

Insult to injury, Christian style, from the top 1%.

It’s 1.7% light on the increase for cost of living.

Woodstock, 1998 Live Version of Edge of Seventeen by Fleetwood Mac.

The song is all fucked up in this version and the venue looks like three farmers took the barn apart to build the venue stage and fencing with a “Farm Pack” from the local lumber yard, for the “Jesus was a Carpenter” version of Edge of Seventeen in New York Catskill Mountains at Woodstock.

Google “Farm Pack” if you don’t understand what that is, or why the Farmer wants to be a Carpenter.

Mixed messages is a life-size thing, is giant blender where old and disabled people are tossed into along with some small children, for making a product that is sprayed onto the roadsides as a erosion abatement, keeps the mudslide from being noticed after the reigns come, for a prophet, and contracted by the state.

========

1-8-2021: 2:01 pm:

The Woodstock Version features Stevie wearing gold, she is famous for white and black, not gold.

It’s the “Sympathy for the Devil” version with a “Welcome to Jamaica, have a nice day” tattoo version, comes with a helicopter and alternate Harmonic Vocal Tuning, and, as noted, the screams of the crowd, were indeed heard.

=======

10:30 pm:

In the event that someone wants to do that math on “Jesus was a Carpenter” and why it’s associated to “Edge of Seventeen“ so heavily, need to have a look at 1985-ish United Brotherhood of Carpenters and Joiners of America Journeyman Wage Scale for Residential Carpenter Pay Rate.

There, you will find that the scale was about $17.50 per hour, while pay scale for Commercial Journeyman was about $22.10 per hour.

The $17.50 Residential Carpenters used to have a lot sayings, one is “I owe, I owe, so off to work I go” another was “Another day, another seventeen-fifty... and another oweee, damn, that hurt when I fell yesterday”

The Carpenters Union was hijacked back then, the story about is long and complex. It’s an important part of why the White House and Congress are all occupied by terrorists bent on ruling the world in league with Britain and the Vatican.

no one will speak to me to hear the story of Jesus worked as a Residential Union Carpenter who was making about $17.50 per hour when he was hit over he head and nailed to a cross on the jobsite.

Adam Schiff was there, part of the takeover of the carpenters union in the 1980′s. He worked for L & M Builders of Ventura County (Thousand Oaks and around there) and used the name “Cory” last name unknown, we used to have a Saturday night poker game together with some of the guys on the crew at the time.

I could be wrong... but I could be right... it was a long time ago, and “Cory” once told me he was an actor, just on the job to check things out, then one day, Cory said “I’m going to Montana”. He left, and that was the last I saw of him until I met him again here in Oregon at a dinner party at a friends house, Kurt Hill, the fork lift driver of Longboard Lumber in Merlin. There he was, “Carpenter Cory of Montana”, at the dinner party, some 25 years later on Jumpoff Joe Creek Road in Josephine county, where I was shot at by someone who ran into the forest after shooting, when Cory said “Can you go over there, and hand me that thing there...?” kind of way to put me in range. Paul Birch was owner of Longboard Lumber, turned out to be a hardcore Christian terror operative here in Merlin, and built hundreds of “Bomb Carts”... I never was able to learn more about the “Bombs” though, only that there was talk of tunnels, and a cabinet shop at Union Ave and Ringuette near the hospital. The carts were made of dimensional lumber and plywood, about four feet square, with a vertical back on one side, heavy duty castors, could haul about 1,000 lbs each, and there were hundreds made at Longboard Lumber by “Will”, an employee there at the Lumber yard, who also turned out to be a terror soldier who kept trying to kill me, for about 16 years so far, he used to stalk me to the Walgreen’s last year, often had a small boy with him. I think I killed Will at the Walgreen‘s in defense about one year ago. Paul Birch took his business dealings to Newport Oregon, to start a terror cell there when Longboard Lumber closed down about 10 years ago-ish.

Like I said, it’s a long story. is important, includes Fleetwood Mac, and Buckingham Palace.

============

1-8-2021: 3:17 pm: additional:

“Carpenter Cory Montana”: My memory is that his last name started with the letter n: neuman; newsome: neuter... something like that. “Cory Newsome” sounds hauntingly familiar.

There may be a connection to a US Postal Mail Carrier by the name of “Mo” who was the carrier for this route for many years when I first moved here to Oregon in 1996. Mo, used to always wear a beany, I have “Mo’s Beany”, but I do not know why, or how I obtained “Mo’s Beany”. The words “That’s Mo’s Beany” have been said my many a terror intruder into my home over a long period of time, as I keep “Mo’s Beany” clearly on display at a place in my home where terror intruders tend to hide when they enter. There are only very few places to hide inside my house these days, I have all of the rooms nailed shut to keep intruders from hiding in them. Had I not closed off all of the rooms in my house, I would have been killed a long time ago.

I advise US Citizens to reduce their living spaces to a bare minimum, as the intruders tend to hide, and wait quietly until the intended victims are asleep in their beds. That is the reason I have not slept in a bed in more than ten years... it’s far too dangerous to use a conventional bed. Sleep is a luxury I cannot afford, neither can you.

============

I think “Adam Cory Schiff” was stalking the L & M Builder’s owner’s son, Cory Reese, who was also part of the Saturday night poker game crew, back in the day when a card game was just a game of Dealers Choice, not global annihilation done by SAG Actors.

I considered Kurt Hill to be a friend until one day I saw him wrap a Pharmacist with cellophane shipping warehouse style plastic wrap, and drag the pharmacist out of the Service Drugs that used to be on 6th St. and toss him into a truck, and drive away from there. It was dusk, at the time. Kurt was a big giant of a man, very strong. I think I killed him in defense out by the mailboxes about ... a long time ago, in defense after some geese were seen running around with no heads on them, making horrible sounds out front on the road.

Seventeen-Fifty is the connection to “Edge of Seventeen“, Union Journeyman scale wages.

=================

11:28 pm:

Other Carpenter Union take over details:

There was a local union hall either on Ventura Blvd in Woodland Hills Ca, or near there, I belonged to that one for awhile, then moved my card to District Counsel 844. I learned that carpenters were being hired by the framing contractors, and they were being signed up as Journeyman, even when they had few skills, but I was not one of those, I did, however, join as a Journeyman having worked non-union for my whole life by the time I joined the union. There was a housing boom, carpenters were on short supply. (it turns out that the housing boom was a “manufactured housing arrangement”, so to speak, to create housing for the upcoming influx of Canadian terror soldiers. Tracts of houses, many thousands each tract, all in phased of one-hundred to four-hundred homes each phase, all around Southern California) Those Journeyman newcomers were paid union wage scale, worked forty hours per week, but were only actually paid for some other amount of hours, typically, about 20 hours were paid out at scale wage for a 40 hour week worked on the job. A carpenter and an employer came to agreement on the side, about hourly rate, about $10 was norm, so, the math was worked to pay $10 per hour, while reflecting full scale on the pay check, with reduced hours showing for the full week of work, making illusion that they only worked part time, about 20 hours or so.

Those carpenters were robbed of the necessary accumulation of hours to become vested for pension.

I demanded one dollar over scale, I was paid one dollar over scale, always, after I learned of that weird arrangement of hours. I was hurt before I became vested.

L & M Builders had a jobsite I worked on where a police officer was shot, and hand cuffed to his steering wheel, I heard him, used his radio to call for help, he died though right there in the car after I got his cuffs unlocked. That jobsite in Thousand Oaks, north side somewhere, at the edge of the city limits, was the weirdest place ever... they built the model homes, five or six different layouts, in a culdesac, to demonstrate what would be for sale later. We built those, then, some other crew of special people came and took the model houses apart piece by piece, then, we built the same floor plans again, on the same slabs. The houses were about 4,000 sq. ft. two story homes, all taken apart after completion of all trades... roofs were on, drywall was all done, plumbers had finished, electrician ran the wire, the HVAC was done... all done. Then, they took them apart, so we could build them again.

Same thing happened here in Grants Pass. The place that just is being completed now called Cascade Public Storage, was all built, completed, done... about ten of maybe twenty years ago... they took the whole thing apart, made it look as if the place was never there, and now, decades later, the exact same structures are there again. The place is weird. The construction techniques include every kind of method there is, block, iron, wood frame, metal frame, concrete... every kind of tradesman on earth was needed to build that thing, twice.

My guess is that the terror army is advertising for help wanted at that site in far away places to draw craftsmen to come to Oregon where they are captured and used as slaves, or are killed and replaced. It’s visible from I-5 at the exit 58 near Club Northwest, where the terror leadership is at, and CNW is the same as Grants Pass Chamber of Commerce as far as membership goes at the Club Northwest terror HQ. There used to be a National Security Administration Field Office next door to Club Northwest, but that seems to have been taken apart a different way, one NSA officer at a time, and was put back somewhere else as Department of Homeland Security, while they put a Department of Health Services where the NSA used to be, for confusion service. and to fulfill “insult to injury” terror protocols required by the Christian Church.

I am pretty sure that the leading Church components to the terror army are at the 9th St. Seventh Day Adventist Church, it’s next door to the Oregon State Police Field Office that’s on 7th St., but you have to hop over a block wall to get from one place to the other, last time I looked over there.

There is a fire station on Park St at the Grants Pass Pkwy intersection that is remarkable for having been built with that multi-faceted construction techniques that Cascade Storage is built with. The place is stunning to look at, is awesome building, is extreme expense for a fire station, way over the top, in my opinion.

These subjects of buildings are in the realm of a place called “Options of Southern Oregon” across from the Walgreen‘s, and another place called “Crisis Resolution Center” between where Walgreen’s and the Hospital are at, which might be the source of some of the most wicked of all of the killing contraptions used around here in Josephine County... very scary places are CRC and Options.

There are no shortages of impostors around here, so, in the event that someone who claiams to be the author of  this account has found some helpful people to talk to, that’s not the author of this account. Be advised that I think it was the Sparacino terror cell that stole all of my old pay stubs from back in the day, and has stolen much personal items, to use to impersonate the author of this information. Clyde Baum at 333 Jackpine is famous for the lengths he has gone to impersonate the author of this information also. Both Sparacino of 545 and Baum of 333 are supported in their efforts to impersonate by the local Oregon authorities.

(account is hijacked again)

[colesbarbeque]

Best Espresso Machines Under 200 In 2021

Coffee makers are populating kitchens with increasing numbers. And we understand it! From the traditional relatively basic coffee machine , models, systems and technologies have followed one another to today lead to the very best, ultra-versatile devices capable of preparing all kinds of coffee, of being programmed, of offering options for personalizing coffee…

In short, ultra-complete devices! Today we are looking at the best espresso makers , the comparison of which you can find below . It should be noted that although the models are stamped as espresso, they are often capable of much more in terms of functionality.

The 8 10 Best Espresso Machines Under 200 Reviews

Several technical criteria, which you can find in the buying guide in detail, allowed us to find a basis of comparison for the various espresso coffee machines. We were then able to establish ranges and find the best quality-price ratios, this in order to find models corresponding to everyone’s needs and budgets. Finally, we have used customer reviews in order to obtain a complete and objective opinion on the best espresso makers.

1 / Krups YY4081FD

While some consumers find the price relatively high, most agree that they get what they pay for. The performance is clearly unmatched by the lower ranges, which makes this device, in the eyes of users, perfectly deserving of its title of “professional quality”.

Pros

Preparation of many professional quality drinks: cappuccinos, long coffees, espresso, milk frother, coffee beans …

Good capacity of the tank (1.7L) and the bean container (260g)

Very worked design, both in terms of robustness and aesthetics

Simple and intuitive use thanks to the control panel, also allowing you to memorize profiles

Cons

Does not allow the use of ground coffee, only coffee beans

A little noisy

2 / Philips EP3550 / 00 3100 Series

This machine does so much that some users get confused! Some say that it is preferable to watch one or two configuration tutorials, as for the grinder, before launching yourself into the settings. For the rest, on the other hand, consumers highlight the great variety of functionalities, both from the point of personalization and for the rest.

Pros

Numerous functions: integrated milk frother and up to 5 different drinks including decaf coffee

Several customization options for the strength of the grinder, 5 levels for the intensity of the aroma, adjustment of the coffee length …

Easy maintenance and limited descaling thanks to the Aquaclean filter

Possibility to set your favorite drinks

Cons

The chipper takes a little time to be fully mastered

3 / Philips EP2221 / 40

Customers are impressed with the performance of the machine, while recognizing the high standards of Philips manufacturing.

Pros

High-end quality with many customization options and the possibility of serving up to 2 coffees at the same time

High reliability: Built-in high-quality ceramic grinder makes up to 20,000 cups from beans

Easy maintenance thanks to removable parts

A milk frother is integrated to diversify your preparations

Cons

Relatively noisy grinder

4 / Delonghi ECAM22.110.B

Many consumers give the highest rating to this device, which enjoys excellent popularity especially as its price has fallen by more than 100 $ since it went on sale.

Both design and practical, this machine is, in the eyes of consumers, the very example that beauty and practicality can combine to form a most successful device. A bit of a shame, some customers note, that the rinse cycle is a little sluggish.

Pros

Allows you to serve 2 cups simultaneously

Numerous customization options for the strength of the coffee, its length or the heating temperature

A grinder is integrated for the coffee beans

Tank with a good capacity of 1.8L

Cons

Despite the compact dimensions, the weight of 9kg can be felt

The rinsing cycle is triggered at start and stop

5 / Krups XP344010 Calvi

It is no surprise that consumers validate this model, giving it, for many of them, the maximum score. And no wonder: it is once again the quality-price ratio that marks the spirits, especially since you enjoy high power and an optimal temperature from the first cup. Not a competition freak, but a great home choice for users.

Pros

Good power of 1460W for 15 bars of pressure

Preheating takes no more than 40 seconds thanks to the compact Thermoblock and allows you to obtain a first cup at optimum temperature

Foam effect thanks to the steam nozzle

Practical facilities: 1 or 2 cups at the same time, storage provided for the filters, possibility of switching to manual mode for more control …

Cons

The filter holder fills a little too quickly, which implies regular maintenance and rinsing

Plastic construction

6 / Klarstein BellaVita Espresso

In the reviews, consumers obviously insist on the value for money of the device, which is certainly the biggest asset. Admittedly, it only allows you to prepare two drinks (espresso or double espresso) and the tank is a bit small, but for the price, it combines manufacturing quality with ease of use, which is a real plus for customers. We validate!

Pros

Available in classic or espresso version, as well as in silver or black

High power of 1575W for 20 bars of pressure, which is an excellent ratio

Get the coffee of your dreams at the push of a button with “OneTouch Control”

Stainless steel construction for maximum strength and extended life

The water is maintained at an optimum temperature thanks to the Perfect Temperature System

Cons

Low capacity of 0.9L

The first cup deserves a slightly higher temperature

7 / Nespresso Pixie

Consumers appear to be very satisfied with the model’s performance, obviously valuing its functionalities (perhaps a little limited, but at this price…) but above all the quality of the coffee extracted. Remember, of course, to choose quality coffee! In this regard, some consumers find the use of pods harmful, which is not the most ecological.

Pros

Possibility of choosing either manual ignition or automatic ignition

Durable aluminum construction

19 bars of pressure for a rich espresso

Quick heat-up, not exceeding 25 seconds

Cons

The water tank is relatively small, with a capacity of only 0.7L

Relatively noisy

8 / Delonghi BCO264.1

A small design flaw for the lid of the water tank requires caution when using it, so as not to have sudden movements. But this drawback remains, once we are aware, a minor point compared to the strengths of the device.

We will think, to begin with, of course of its price, but also of its many practical facilities, like the timer, the possibility of choosing the number of cups that can be served or even monitoring the state of the machine and progress via an LCD screen.

Pros

Coffee customization options: aroma (variator), choice of grind for a rich aroma and strong in taste

Possibility to serve one or two cups simultaneously

Control via physical keys with summary on an LCD screen

A digital timer is integrated

Cons

The cover of the water tank suffers from a lack of strength

9 / Delonghi EC685.M Dedica Style

For this model to be perfect, we would have liked to have had less maintenance effort to provide, both for the coffee grounds and for the filter holder. However, the machine stands out above all thanks to its excellent quality-price ratio as well as its great versatility, even allowing it to accept paper pods!

Pros

Available in 4 different styles

Quick start: in just 35 seconds the machine is ready to brew coffee

Good power of 1300W

Compactness and build quality

Cons

It is necessary to clean the filter holder regularly to preserve the functioning of the device.

You often have to go and collect the coffee grounds with a spoon

ESPRESSO MACHINE BUYING GUIDE: EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO KNOW TO BUY IT!

Presentation and advantages of the espresso coffee machine

You surely can imagine that in addition to the best espresso coffee machines that you discovered in the comparison, many other models manage to stand out on the market!

Their secret? Solid technical characteristics, a range of functions, positive consumer opinions and an attractive price. But these models must be spotted, so we give you more information on the selection and purchase process.

As its name suggests, the espresso machine allows you to make… espresso. But that’s far from its only functionality! Indeed, depending on the model, it is possible to prepare other kinds of coffee, for example coffee beans when a grinder is included.

They are also personalization machines, often allowing you to choose the aroma of the coffee or to be programmed. In short, you will taste much more than an espresso with these technological gems!

What are the criteria for buying an espresso maker?

To know how to choose an espresso machine in the same way as we did, it is necessary to rely on a certain number of criteria which, in fine, correspond above all to the technical characteristics of the devices.

When faced with each criterion, systematically ask yourself the question of your needs: not everyone needs the very best, so consider the use you plan to have!

Power And Pressure

Power is certainly the hallmark of the device. Expressed in Watts, it must be high enough to allow the machine to perform all of its functions.

We will of course think of the basics (preparing the coffee), but also of the additional options of customization or choice of temperature, which will mean a correspondingly high power.

Regarding the pressure, it combines with the power to ensure both the rendering of your coffees and the speed of execution of the device. An indisputable duo!

The Personalization Of Coffee And Aroma

True technological contribution of current machines: it is now possible to personalize your coffee to obtain a grind to your taste, to enjoy a light, medium or full-bodied aroma, or to create a foam using a milk frother .

So many customization options that allow you to enjoy a unique coffee with the aroma of your choice!

Drinks That Can Be Prepared

In addition to the famous espresso that we love so much, the machines are proving more and more versatile, and are therefore now able to prepare other drinks! Thus, some will accept ground coffee.

Others will go much further, allowing both ground coffee and coffee beans, benefiting from an integrated grinder. If this is the case, remember to find out about the decibels emitted during the operation of the crusher, because the silent crusher is not yet born!

Practical Facilities: Handling, Control And Size

The control and handling of the device must be both simple and ergonomic. Most devices will pass through a system of bright LED lights indicating the status of the machine or the coffee preparation process while your actions will be carried out with physical buttons.

Others, more advanced, will integrate an LED screen, even LCD with ultra responsive touch keys on the most advanced models.

In terms of size, we will think about both weight and dimensions. Of course, the model is not intended to be moved regularly, but just think about cleaning! In terms of dimensions, these must correspond to the location where you plan to place the device, such as a worktop for example.

Note that compact formats often represent an excellent compromise between practicality and power.

Finally, since we are talking about size, also remember to find out about the properties of the machine with regard to its resistance, the quality of its coating and the material chosen … In this regard, there is no doubt that stainless steel beats plastic!

The Capacity Of The Water Tank

Regarding the water tank, the capacity depends mainly on two factors: the number of people who will use the machine regularly and the water consumption.

For the first factor, consider its use (home or office?) As well as regular diners or employees. This will give you a first idea of ​​the necessary capacity, namely that it is fashionable, even for a single individual, to reach at least the liter.

When it comes to water consumption, it is good to know that some espresso machines consume more water than others (especially when functionality increases), so that a large tub, at least less 1.5L, is welcome.

Additional Features

In addition to all the features already reviewed, the machines have other assets to highlight! Typically, the most sophisticated models can be programmed, for example so that the coffee is ready at a certain time (so that the heating is calculated) or even that the rinsing or descaling program starts every X times.

What price and what budget for an espresso machine?

You were able to discover it quite easily in our comparison: according to the ranges of machines, the price can vary from single to double, to triple, to quadruple … It can reasonably be considered that high prices mean higher ranges.

However, be careful of what may risk becoming a shortcut. An expensive product does not necessarily mean a quality product, and even if it is quality, it does not necessarily mean that its features are worth the price displayed. This is called value for money, in other words, you have to get what you pay for!

For this, you can, like us, take an interest in consumer reviews, but also call on the most recognized brands, such as Delonghi, Philips, Krups, Klarstein or even Nespresso, all manufacturers renowned for their know-how. undeniable.

You can now consider your needs. To do this, simply write down the features that you consider essential and those that you consider optional. Then find products that cover all the crucial features and a few models that also cover one or two options that you attach importance to. You will then see as many prices appear, which will form the famous “ranges”.

From there, all you have to do is sort it out, thinking about finding a compromise between your needs and your desires, on the one hand, and your budget, on the other. As an indication, coffee machines under 100 $ are really the entry level: if you want more features, stability and robustness as well as customization options, you should count on at least 150 $.

How to descale an espresso machine? In 5 steps

For machines with an automatic program, fill the removable tank with vinegar or descaling agent, according to the manufacturer’s recommendations, then top up with water.

Install a sufficiently dense container under the spout to collect the descaler or vinegar

Start the descaling program. This will be more or less long depending on the devices, but will not normally require your intervention before the end of the cycle.

Once the cycle is complete, collect and empty the container, then rinse the tank before replacing it.

If your machine has a rinsing program, all you have to do is fill the tank with water to the maximum then install a container again, before launching the program and let the machine do its job.

source https://colesbarbeque.com/best-espresso-machines-under-200/