#fivescore

[thalassous]

DAY i : your favourite oc

and if i've got the power to take it,

[ ID: A full-coloured, full body drawing of Yamamoto Hideko. Her back is bent to the left, but she looks somewhat behind her with her left hand on her hip. Her right arm stump is hanging below her. Hideko is on her knees as she looks up with her haunches raised. The drawing is lineless, and shadows are defined with darker colours. There is a blue polygon shaded by her body in the back, with the word "FAVE" in blue at the bottom left corner. END ID ]

[mysticalspiders]

Voyage of the Nautilus Liveblog: Ned Land

Our frigate would have had fivescore good reasons for renaming itself the Argus, after that mythological beast with 100 eyes!

I love this allusion to the Arugs! The focus on the eyes of the ship is so specific and interesting.

The common man may still believe in fabulous comets crossing outer space

wtf are fabulous comets!?

“Precisely, Ned. So at thirty-two feet beneath the surface of the sea, you’ll undergo a pressure of 17,568 kilograms; at 320 feet, or ten times greater pressure, it’s 175,680 kilograms; at 3,200 feet, or 100 times greater pressure, it’s 1,756,800 kilograms; finally, at 32,000 feet, or 1,000 times greater pressure, it’s 17,568,000 kilograms; in other words, you’d be squashed as flat as if you’d just been yanked from between the plates of a hydraulic press!”

I’m too tired to try to figure out if any of Aronnax’s math makes sense but I have to say I’m dubious. 

To answer them called for dissecting this unknown monster; to dissect it called for catching it; to catch it called for harpooning it—which was Ned Land’s business; to harpoon it called for sighting it—which was the crew’s business; and to sight it called for encountering it—which was a chancy business.

This is such a fun little sentence! I don’t have much to say expect that I like it! 

[lifeofclonewars]

Shiny: *finishing up convo with Fives and Echo about something mission related*

Shiny: Thank you, ARC Trooper Fives.

Echo: You know, Fives isn't actually his full name. It's just a nickname, like how we call Hardcase Case or Jesse Jess sometimes.

Shiny: Wait, really? Then what is it?

Echo, smirking: Fivescore. It's another way to say one hundred so we mess with him and call him Fives.

Shiny: Wow, I never knew that!

Fives, catching on: Yeah, it's not something I make a big deal about. Echo's not his full name, either.

Shiny: Can I ask?

Fives: Sure!

Fives: It's Echolocation.

Echo: 🤨

Fives: 😁

Shiny: *confused face as the twins stare each other down*

Shiny: Like what bats and togrutas can do?

Fives and Echo: *burst out laughing*

Shiny: ???

Fives: We're just messing with you, vod. Fives and Echo are our real names.

Shiny, miffed: Oh

[worstsoupever]

Single-handed against fivescore, girt by the Arctic winter, far from his own, he felt the prompting of his heritage, the desire to possess, the wild danger—love, the thrill of battle, the power to conquer or to die.

Jack London

[planet4546b]

remember when kaladin straight up killed his commanding officer that sent all his men to be killed for his own personal gain??? fivescore

[xxxdragonfucker69xxx]

i get why there are only a hundred sidereals thematically and fivescore fellowship really does roll off the tongue but jesus christ that is not a lot of sidereals, about 20 of them i think are canonically described

[mechagalaxy]

Sten Hugo Hiller - 627184: War of `66. First day, main clashes.

(By Sten Hugo Hiller - 627184) War of `66. First day, main clashes. The initial engagements did, -at least mostly, set the pattern for the following fighting. In most of the battles, the clans who had gained the upper hand continued to improve their positions. Whether they managed to keep the initial win/loss ratio was actually a moot point as long as they managed to increase their actual lead. But as always, some clans prefered to let their opponents land the first heavy blows. Then, -after some careful number crunching, they could start planning devasting counterattacks where their opponents had shown weakness. Not all of those clans saw their way to victory, but some did. Others decided to roll the dice anyway, hoping to at least make the victory as costly as possible for their opponents. And most of the clans kept at least a portion of their heacy strikes in reserve for the final fighting With six hours of fighting remaining, the scores stood: Div 1 W&D HQ 126 - 12 B.o.A.D. The Warlocks have kept up the pressure and the Arcanists are left far behind. Winters Coming 146 - 47 Spirit of Bunny The Bunnies might not have given up, but W.C. have nearly fivescore additional objectives, so this battle is essentially over. Div 2 Northwind Dragons 84 - 20 M&L Team Banzai The Dragons have managed to get a chokehold on the Banzai`ers, by winning better than 80% of the engagements. T.B. BlackWatch 37 - 37 Winter`s Coming BlackWatch have managed to get even with W.C. This looks like it might be a Match to Watch. Div 3 Death`s Collectors 36 - 8 Star League The Collectors have a decent advantage here. Question is if the Leaguers can rally and come back toward the end. Avengers of Bunny 117 - 30 SH5 The Slaughterers have managed to get a bundle of objectives, but the Bunnies have nearly four times as many. Div 4 B.S.L.R. 83 - 7 M&L B.C. 13th A.D. The Cats have managed to get some wins, but the Rangers have won better than eleven clashes out of each dozen. "R.V." 99 - 43 D.t.S.B. R.V. show no sign of slacking off. And while the Brigade have secured dozens of objectives, R.V. still have more than twice as many. Div 5 Heroes 81 - 19 Mad Scientist.7 The Heroes have hammered the Scientists badly, and gained a better than 4-1 advantage. D.D.A. 63 - 1 Alpha Legion The Legion have not been capable of securing any additional objectives, while the asylants have a better than threescore lead. Ronins 61 - 6 Death`s Revenge D.R. have managed to win a couple more skirmishes, but the Ronins have more than ten times as many wins in total. Renegades  55 - 14 Diamond Dragons The Dragons have won a few more skirmishes, but the Renegades success rate aproaches 80%. Div 6 Defenders of Bunny 107 - 41 MurderBots The MurderBots have started to secure objectives in numbers, but the Bunnies are still way ahead of them. ARMORD CORE 56 - 24 t&t t&t is doing their damned best, but A.C. still have more than twice as many wins. Smurf Platoon 67 - 14 ***R.V.*** R.V. have managed to double their  score from the last report, but are more than 50 behind the Smurfs. Chess Dragons 57 - 0 M&L B.o.P.S. The Smurfs still havent managed to claim even a single win, while the Dragons have won nearly threescore. Div 7 T.B 1st K.H. 81 - 12 **R.V.** R.V. have by now secured a dozen objectives, but the Highlanders have more than six times as many. Black Star Bandits 28 - 0 M&L A.R.S.E. The Smurfs have not managed to claim any wins yet, while the Bandits have more than two dozens. Behemoth 18 - 23 JC`s Rowdy Bunch The Behemoths have awakened and are starting to fight back. But the Bunch are still a handfull objectives in front. Can this become a Match to Watch? T.I.o.M.T. 47 - 6 Deaths Hecklers The Hecklers have managed to claim one additional objective, leaving them more than  twoscore behind the Misfits. Div 8 Major Steel 12 - 0 Karma II The Steelers have begun their advance, and have claimed a dozen wins. Is Karma going to concede, or will they start hitting back? Murdermech mini 100 - 18 Mad Scientist 1 The Scientists have managed to claim nearly a score objectives, but  the Murdermechs wins are already in the three-digit range. *R.V.* 53 - 37 I.N.A. R.V. is still in the front. But their advantage have been reduced, and the Alliance are smelling blood in the water. Ronins 2 45 - 0 Jagdstaffel 2 No further action have been reported, the Ronins still have plenty of unopposed wins. Div 9 Karma 20 - 0 Borg Collective No further fighting have been seen here either. Cold Dead Hands 13 - 8 RED AXE The Deaders have managed to widen the gap a bit, but the Axemen are still only a handfull of objectives behind. A late offensive might well swing this battle. Gamer`s United 53 - 23 Banditos The Bandits are not going down without a fight, but the Gamers seem to have the situation well in hand. Dawn Patrol 4 - 0 H.o.G. No further fighting have been seen here either. But unless the HoG`s have given up, the Patrol had better keep a sharp eye on them to avoid loosing to a late blitz.

[thalassous]

DAY iii : an old oc

i wish you were dead, i can fit two,

[ ID : A sketchy half body drawing of Kanemaru Jotaro. He is turned three quarters to the left side, with his right hand on his hip as he inspects the nails on his left hand. Jotaro looks upwards and to the right with an apathetic look. Behind him are various roses of different sizes, and the drawing is overlayed with a soft pink. Near the left side of his head, the word, "OLD" is written. END ID ]

THE OLD OC (design). SIGHS,

[ ID: A picture almost identical to the one above it, with Jotaro standing legs far apart and arms extended out to his sides. More of his legs are showing, the roses are pink, and he has no overlay on top of him. END ID ]

[waluiv]

OUR BANKER 1874 BY OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES OLD Time, in whose bank we deposit our notes, Is a miser who always wants guineas for groats; He keeps all his customers still in arrears By lending them minutes and charging them years. The twelvemonth rolls round and we never forget On the counter before us to pay him our debt. We reckon the marks he has chalked on the door, Pay up and shake hands and begin a new score. How long he will lend us, how much we may owe, No angel will tell us, no mortal may know. At fivescore, at fourscore, at threescore and ten, He may close the account with a stroke of his pen. This only we know,--amid sorrows and joys Old Time has been easy and kind with "The Boys." Though he must have and will have and does have his pay, We have found him good-natured enough in his way. He never forgets us, as others will do,-- I am sure he knows me, and I think he knows you, For I see on your foreheads a mark that he lends As a sign he remembers to visit his friends. In the shape of a classmate (a wig on his crown,-- His day-book and ledger laid carefully down) He has welcomed us yearly, a glass in his hand, And pledged the good health of our brotherly band. He 's a thief, we must own, but how many there be That rob us less gently and fairly than he: He has stripped the green leaves that were over us all, But they let in the sunshine as fast as they fall. Young beauties may ravish the world with a glance As they languish in song, as they float in the dance,-- They are grandmothers now we remember as girls, And the comely white cap takes the place of the curls. But the sighing and moaning and groaning are o'er, We are pining and moping and sleepless no more, And the hearts that were thumping like ships on the rocks Beat as quiet and steady as meeting-house clocks. The trump of ambition, loud sounding and shrill, May blow its long blast, but the echoes are still, The spring-tides are past, but no billow may reach The spoils they have landed far up on the beach. We see that Time robs us, we know that he cheats, But we still find a charm in his pleasant deceits, While he leaves the remembrance of all that was best, Love, friendship, and hope, and the promise of rest. Sweet shadows of twilight! how calm their repose, While the dewdrops fall soft in the breast of the rose! How blest to the toiler his hour of release When the vesper is heard with its whisper of peace! Then here 's to the wrinkled old miser, our friend; May he send us his bills to the century's end, And lend us the moments no sorrow alloys, Till he squares his account with the last of "The Boys."

[1929crash]

Government since 1908

Democracies were encroaching upon monarchies…

Fivescore and eleven years ago HL Mencken held forth on his interpretation of the thoughts of Friedrich Nietzsche. Mencken’s parents were German. Germans had flowed into both Texas and the USA during the build-up to the Opium Wars, and published newspapers. Henry Lewis was uniquely positioned to understand, and that he did.

The Philosophy of Friedrich…

[findingoblivion]

With what manner of speech did you address me, rake? Be informed that I was peerless among squires during my education. I have aided his majesty the king in numerous campaigns against the Saracens and I have laid low thrice fivescore opponents. I have mastered the delicate art of the night-raid and am the superlative archer in the realm. You, meanwhile, are wholly without worth. Let it be known that I will bring such artifice to your ignominious end as none have yet witnessed within the Lord’s creation. You believe you can volley such insults by way of anonymous missive? My hunters and their keen hounds have already discerned your location, so it is best you hasten preparations for the ensuing tumult, wretch, the species of tumult that will spill your life essences into the gaping maw of Hades. Perhaps if wisdom guided you to see the repercussions of your knavish harangue, you would remained silent. You were unable to do so, however, and now punishment will be exacted on you. I will excrete biliously upon you and in such bilious excretion shall you be overcome. Your time on this earth shall soon cease, peasant.

[readbookywooks]

Ned Land

COMMANDER FARRAGUT was a good seaman, worthy of the frigate he commanded. His ship and he were one. He was its very soul. On the cetacean question no doubts arose in his mind, and he didn't allow the animal's existence to be disputed aboard his vessel. He believed in it as certain pious women believe in the leviathan from the Book of Job - out of faith, not reason. The monster existed, and he had vowed to rid the seas of it. The man was a sort of Knight of Rhodes, a latter-day Sir Dieudonne of Gozo, on his way to fight an encounter with the dragon devastating the island. Either Commander Farragut would slay the narwhale, or the narwhale would slay Commander Farragut. No middle of the road for these two. The ship's officers shared the views of their leader. They could be heard chatting, discussing, arguing, calculating the different chances of an encounter, and observing the vast expanse of the ocean. Voluntary watches from the crosstrees of the topgallant sail were self-imposed by more than one who would have cursed such toil under any other circumstances. As often as the sun swept over its daily arc, the masts were populated with sailors whose feet itched and couldn't hold still on the planking of the deck below! And the Abraham Lincoln's stempost hadn't even cut the suspected waters of the Pacific. As for the crew, they only wanted to encounter the unicorn, harpoon it, haul it on board, and carve it up. They surveyed the sea with scrupulous care. Besides, Commander Farragut had mentioned that a certain sum of $2,000.00 was waiting for the man who first sighted the animal, be he cabin boy or sailor, mate or officer. I'll let the reader decide whether eyes got proper exercise aboard the Abraham Lincoln. As for me, I didn't lag behind the others and I yielded to no one my share in these daily observations. Our frigate would have had fivescore good reasons for renaming itself the Argus, after that mythological beast with 100 eyes! The lone rebel among us was Conseil, who seemed utterly uninterested in the question exciting us and was out of step with the general enthusiasm on board. As I said, Commander Farragut had carefully equipped his ship with all the gear needed to fish for a gigantic cetacean. No whaling vessel could have been better armed. We had every known mechanism, from the hand-hurled harpoon, to the blunderbuss firing barbed arrows, to the duck gun with exploding bullets. On the forecastle was mounted the latest model breech-loading cannon, very heavy of barrel and narrow of bore, a weapon that would figure in the Universal Exhibition of 1867. Made in America, this valuable instrument could fire a four-kilogram conical projectile an average distance of sixteen kilometers without the least bother. So the Abraham Lincoln wasn't lacking in means of destruction. But it had better still. It had Ned Land, the King of Harpooners. Gifted with uncommon manual ability, Ned Land was a Canadian who had no equal in his dangerous trade. Dexterity, coolness, bravery, and cunning were virtues he possessed to a high degree, and it took a truly crafty baleen whale or an exceptionally astute sperm whale to elude the thrusts of his harpoon. Ned Land was about forty years old. A man of great height - over six English feet - he was powerfully built, serious in manner, not very sociable, sometimes headstrong, and quite ill-tempered when crossed. His looks caught the attention, and above all the strength of his gaze, which gave a unique emphasis to his facial appearance. Commander Farragut, to my thinking, had made a wise move in hiring on this man. With his eye and his throwing arm, he was worth the whole crew all by himself. I can do no better than to compare him with a powerful telescope that could double as a cannon always ready to fire. To say Canadian is to say French, and as unsociable as Ned Land was, I must admit he took a definite liking to me. No doubt it was my nationality that attracted him. It was an opportunity for him to speak, and for me to hear, that old Rabelaisian dialect still used in some Canadian provinces. The harpooner's family originated in Quebec, and they were already a line of bold fishermen back in the days when this town still belonged to France. Little by little Ned developed a taste for chatting, and I loved hearing the tales of his adventures in the polar seas. He described his fishing trips and his battles with great natural lyricism. His tales took on the form of an epic poem, and I felt I was hearing some Canadian Homer reciting his Iliad of the High Arctic regions. I'm writing of this bold companion as I currently know him. Because we've become old friends, united in that permanent comradeship born and cemented during only the most frightful crises! Ah, my gallant Ned! I ask only to live 100 years more, the longer to remember you! And now, what were Ned Land's views on this question of a marine monster? I must admit that he flatly didn't believe in the unicorn, and alone on board, he didn't share the general conviction. He avoided even dealing with the subject, for which one day I felt compelled to take him to task. During the magnificent evening of June 25 - in other words, three weeks after our departure - the frigate lay abreast of Cabo Blanco, thirty miles to leeward of the coast of Patagonia. We had crossed the Tropic of Capricorn, and the Strait of Magellan opened less than 700 miles to the south. Before eight days were out, the Abraham Lincoln would plow the waves of the Pacific. Seated on the afterdeck, Ned Land and I chatted about one thing and another, staring at that mysterious sea whose depths to this day are beyond the reach of human eyes. Quite naturally, I led our conversation around to the giant unicorn, and I weighed our expedition's various chances for success or failure. Then, seeing that Ned just let me talk without saying much himself, I pressed him more closely. "Ned," I asked him, "how can you still doubt the reality of this cetacean we're after? Do you have any particular reasons for being so skeptical?" The harpooner stared at me awhile before replying, slapped his broad forehead in one of his standard gestures, closed his eyes as if to collect himself, and finally said: "Just maybe, Professor Aronnax." "But Ned, you're a professional whaler, a man familiar with all the great marine mammals - your mind should easily accept this hypothesis of an enormous cetacean, and you ought to be the last one to doubt it under these circumstances!" "That's just where you're mistaken, professor," Ned replied. "The common man may still believe in fabulous comets crossing outer space, or in prehistoric monsters living at the earth's core, but astronomers and geologists don't swallow such fairy tales. It's the same with whalers. I've chased plenty of cetaceans, I've harpooned a good number, I've killed several. But no matter how powerful and well armed they were, neither their tails or their tusks could puncture the sheet-iron plates of a steamer." "Even so, Ned, people mention vessels that narwhale tusks have run clean through." "Wooden ships maybe," the Canadian replied. "But I've never seen the like. So till I have proof to the contrary, I'll deny that baleen whales, sperm whales, or unicorns can do any such thing." "Listen to me, Ned - " "No, no, professor. I'll go along with anything you want except that. Some gigantic devilfish maybe . . . ?" "Even less likely, Ned. The devilfish is merely a mollusk, and even this name hints at its semiliquid flesh, because it's Latin meaning soft one. The devilfish doesn't belong to the vertebrate branch, and even if it were 500 feet long, it would still be utterly harmless to ships like the Scotia or the Abraham Lincoln. Consequently, the feats of krakens or other monsters of that ilk must be relegated to the realm of fiction." "So, Mr. Naturalist," Ned Land continued in a bantering tone, "you'll just keep on believing in the existence of some enormous cetacean . . . ?" "Yes, Ned, I repeat it with a conviction backed by factual logic. I believe in the existence of a mammal with a powerful constitution, belonging to the vertebrate branch like baleen whales, sperm whales, or dolphins, and armed with a tusk made of horn that has tremendous penetrating power." "Humph!" the harpooner put in, shaking his head with the attitude of a man who doesn't want to be convinced. "Note well, my fine Canadian," I went on, "if such an animal exists, if it lives deep in the ocean, if it frequents the liquid strata located miles beneath the surface of the water, it needs to have a constitution so solid, it defies all comparison." "And why this powerful constitution?" Ned asked. "Because it takes incalculable strength just to live in those deep strata and withstand their pressure." "Oh really?" Ned said, tipping me a wink. "Oh really, and I can prove it to you with a few simple figures." "Bosh!" Ned replied. "You can make figures do anything you want!" "In business, Ned, but not in mathematics. Listen to me. Let's accept that the pressure of one atmosphere is represented by the pressure of a column of water thirty-two feet high. In reality, such a column of water wouldn't be quite so high because here we're dealing with salt water, which is denser than fresh water. Well then, when you dive under the waves, Ned, for every thirty-two feet of water above you, your body is tolerating the pressure of one more atmosphere, in other words, one more kilogram per each square centimeter on your body's surface. So it follows that at 320 feet down, this pressure is equal to ten atmospheres, to 100 atmospheres at 3,200 feet, and to 1,000 atmospheres at 32,000 feet, that is, at about two and a half vertical leagues down. Which is tantamount to saying that if you could reach such a depth in the ocean, each square centimeter on your body's surface would be experiencing 1,000 kilograms of pressure. Now, my gallant Ned, do you know how many square centimeters you have on your bodily surface?" "I haven't the foggiest notion, Professor Aronnax." "About 17,000." "As many as that?" "Yes, and since the atmosphere's pressure actually weighs slightly more than one kilogram per square centimeter, your 17,000 square centimeters are tolerating 17,568 kilograms at this very moment." "Without my noticing it?" "Without your noticing it. And if you aren't crushed by so much pressure, it's because the air penetrates the interior of your body with equal pressure. When the inside and outside pressures are in perfect balance, they neutralize each other and allow you to tolerate them without discomfort. But in the water it's another story." "Yes, I see," Ned replied, growing more interested. "Because the water surrounds me but doesn't penetrate me." "Precisely, Ned. So at thirty-two feet beneath the surface of the sea, you'll undergo a pressure of 17,568 kilograms; at 320 feet, or ten times greater pressure, it's 175,680 kilograms; at 3,200 feet, or 100 times greater pressure, it's 1,756,800 kilograms; finally, at 32,000 feet, or 1,000 times greater pressure, it's 17,568,000 kilograms; in other words, you'd be squashed as flat as if you'd just been yanked from between the plates of a hydraulic press!" "Fire and brimstone!" Ned put in. "All right then, my fine harpooner, if vertebrates several hundred meters long and proportionate in bulk live at such depths, their surface areas make up millions of square centimeters, and the pressure they undergo must be assessed in billions of kilograms. Calculate, then, how much resistance of bone structure and strength of constitution they'd need in order to withstand such pressures!" "They'd need to be manufactured," Ned Land replied, "from sheet-iron plates eight inches thick, like ironclad frigates." "Right, Ned, and then picture the damage such a mass could inflict if it were launched with the speed of an express train against a ship's hull." "Yes . . . indeed . . . maybe," the Canadian replied, staggered by these figures but still not willing to give in. "Well, have I convinced you?" "You've convinced me of one thing, Mr. Naturalist. That deep in the sea, such animals would need to be just as strong as you say-if they exist." "But if they don't exist, my stubborn harpooner, how do you explain the accident that happened to the Scotia?" "It's maybe . . . ," Ned said, hesitating. "Go on!" "Because . . . it just couldn't be true!" the Canadian replied, unconsciously echoing a famous catchphrase of the scientist Arago. But this reply proved nothing, other than how bullheaded the harpooner could be. That day I pressed him no further. The Scotia's accident was undeniable. Its hole was real enough that it had to be plugged up, and I don't think a hole's existence can be more emphatically proven. Now then, this hole didn't make itself, and since it hadn't resulted from underwater rocks or underwater machines, it must have been caused by the perforating tool of some animal. Now, for all the reasons put forward to this point, I believed that this animal was a member of the branch Vertebrata, class Mammalia, group Pisciforma, and finally, order Cetacea. As for the family in which it would be placed (baleen whale, sperm whale, or dolphin), the genus to which it belonged, and the species in which it would find its proper home, these questions had to be left for later. To answer them called for dissecting this unknown monster; to dissect it called for catching it; to catch it called for harpooning it-which was Ned Land's business; to harpoon it called for sighting it-which was the crew's business; and to sight it called for encountering it-which was a chancy business.

[thalassous]

the watcher the prince and the DEVIL!!!

CALiBAN

18 . he/ey . the prince

there were many, many princes at my disposal, especially tempest related, but there's one i can count on to make the whole metaphor here. "this island's mine, by sycorax my mother" (shakespeare, ii.i) says caliban, the inheritance, proclaimed heir, and eurocentricity to the initial idea all really striking to me.

MARiYA PREOBRAZHENSKAYA

23 . she/spark . the watcher

millennials just yearn for a hubris that bests the old ones. mariya has watched enough to know that her actions have consequences. spark knows full well there is a price to pay when it comes to sleeping with one eye open, but she is not so fiscal to miss out on the gamble of life.

ANANiAS

??? . she/he . the devil

its the summer of idolatry! the tower of babel is rising to its peak, you can't miss it now. good men sweat and worse men don't, the world spins on an axis and there is just so much to lust after. don't bear your neighbour's burden, just listen to her. listen.

[thalassous]

the undead for the ask game !

FERRY CROWFOOT

211 . thon/thons . the undead

ferry crowfoot was pretty set in stone to be forgotten by time. that's how you die, right? thon took thons chance, lost it, then died. that's life. living until 61 isn't actually that bad. when one gets called the undead, they have the upper hand. a second chance. thon is still here.

[thalassous]

Hmhmhmhmm number 2 the parent father mother

TERRANCE BERGERON

29 . he/him . the parent

has a daughter, before you ask! terrance has a very interesting relationship with parenthood, he doesn't think about other people especially before he married, but he wants to try his best with his adopted daughter jelly. he wants to try to imprint on someone in a good way.