#while at the same time none of these politics have any consequence or relevance to the actual stories that happen on screen.

[thefloatingstone]

Appleseed PDA montage to save you from reading endless pages of unimportant politics that don't amount to anything

also because I have nothing better to do, I'm bored, I'm moody, my gaming laptop is still broken so no BG3, and it's too late at night to start drawing after doing animation clean-up all day.

[satelitesdejupiter]

Some considerations about Eren

Isayama has been working Eren in the dubious. While the text screams that he is a genocide who doesn't care about anyone anymore, who laughs at the death of a friend and etc., we have the subtext bringing other nuances, working a certain sentimentality that is there between the lines being ignored by the fandom. And he does this because he is interested in exploring the character's duality. Not to justify his failures and weakness, but to explore his conflicts.

There is a belief in the fandom that Eren only cares about his own freedom, that he distorted Carla's teachings, but only believes in that who ignores the development that Eren has on his own ideology.

One of the last things Eren says to his mother before she dies is that she is a fool, a bird in a cage. Retrieving all the history, it is the equivalent of saying that she is a cattle or a slave. And the rascal turns his back without even giving the mother an opportunity to respond.

And he will only know about Carla's teachings when he sits down with Shadis. And that is a turning point for him in his ideology. Her words reach him and that is well represented in his expression.

His ideology is not so simplistic anymore. He listens and learns.

And this was tested with Ymir.

Eren is not a monster, sociopath or something like that. There is a work of awareness in your character.

 He recognizes in that foreign people people like him, and suffer bc of the path he is following. This Eren who is unable to think, to have empathy, who only looks at himself does not exist, because there is this construction of duality.

Recognizing this does not exclude seeing Eren's mistakes. SNK  deals with choices-consequences, and Eren should not be exempt from this. Which brings me to another point.

Redemption

The hero's journey, is a narrative structure used in Odyssey, Divine comedy, Stars Wars, a lot  myths, being applied not only in the construction of heroes, but also antagonists, anti-heroes and villains.

Not every narrative uses Hero's journey, but snk does.  And uses it a lot.

We are introduced to Eren's ordinary life on an ordinary day until it ceases to be and a tragedy makes him swear revenge (normal world - called), we have the passage to adventure where he joins the troop, has his mission and faces death by first time (first crossing - trial / crisis), from there we have a very typical progression of the journey of forming alliances, enmities ... We can see these elements all the time, as in the tree of life, meeting with the mother goddess ( Ymir), the figure of the guide who appears in an almost supernatural way and explains that world, gives a message, advice and gives a new power to the hero, the trials and betrayals of allies and friends, the various deaths and refusals of Eren and etc.

Isayama himself comments that he chose to put the training after the action at the beginning of the story, for fear of the public losing interest. Then, the order reversal of the trial / crisis format for the formation of alliances, tests and enmities, which is a quieter and more difficult phase to attract audiences to a new manga.

He doesn't just use the scope of the journey, but he also plays with some very used elements, like “being the chosen one”, he says that Eren is not special, just the son of a special man. Then he returns to this narrative of being chosen again with Ymir, saying that it was for him that she waited 2000 years.

Admitting the use of this structure by the author,in every journey, there is the moment of the fall, that represents the hero's turn. It is a breaking point and a narrative break in which he is ruined to be rebuilt. From there he can turn into a villain. But to become the hero into a villain, maintain the expectation of the audience, and still execute more narrative breaks that might make us surprised in the end, the author has to retain information. 

And that is not what happens with Eren.

Isayama throws in our face all the time that Eren is a genocide, that he has his head made since the scene of the Ocean, that he was responsible for the death of a friend, we have him being aggressive towards Hange and being cruel to the friends. Eren literally screams at the whole world to hear that he is a genocide and is going to kill everyone.

And the other characters echo this all the time, all the time they question, they say that he changed, that he killed little children, Eren screams at his brother who is a monster since he was a child.

The Eren we knew until the arch of Shingashina died, he broke, he had his downfall. It became something else.

And everyone thinks it's a villain.

If this Eren that ends the world is confirmed, where is the narrative break? The moment when Isayama breaks the reader's legs and gives us what we didn't see coming? There is nothing new. It does not deconstruct the narrative text itself. Not surprising. And we know that Isayama is a master at deconstructing its own history, as it has done with mythologies and even political scenarios.

He is such a good writer that he makes us doubt obvious things like Eren loving his friends.

Even makes us doubt of "Save Armin and Mikasa".

He is not following through on the story to use a feature that has already been exhaustively used. Which has been in place since he attacked Liberius. It is far below his ability to make such a linear narrative, where nothing new is delivered and everything goes as expected. Tragedy for tragedy.

The Rumble happened.

If the story wanted to end with Eren destroying the world, it could end in 122. Pull the credits.

Do you really believe that we are living in a huge filler where none of the characters' actions have any relevance in the final story?

Why remember Connie's mother, who was Samuel, and spend entire chapters developing characters if political and moral issues are of no relevance, since the end has been given?

Why bring subtext of redemption and hope? Do you understand that it makes no sense for an author to develop characters, insert others that no one remembered, if everyone will end up being trampled? Why do we have to care and debate each chapter that comes out if at 122 everything has already been decided?There are less linear ways of reaching the same ending that 122 suggests, and Isayama didn’t use it because he didn’t want.

Using a line from a friend whom I had this conversation several times "If the break, that hero's ruin has been used so many times, before the end of the game and the final whistle, the most coherent thing is to wait for the reconstruction to take place. And this reconstruction we call redemption."

And that's it, whoever read it read, who did not read congratulations, gained another 5 min of life.

[donnerpartyofone]

reasons my i am probably too sensitive to have anything to do with other people

including other people’s drama that has absolutely nothing to do with me

i started reading this person’s new webcomic on instagram a month or two ago, and what started out as a fun little time killer that i looked forward to every day has started making me so uncomfortable that i wish i’d never heard of it. it takes place right now, in an especially embattled US city, and it’s about the dysfunctional lives of a bunch of shallow millennials, set against the backdrop of an increasingly dangerous country in an unpredictable state of revolt. it’s solidly engaging, convincingly characterized, and rendered in a unique funny animal style; i wasn’t surprised to discover that it’s going to be published soon by the most reputable publisher of this sort of thing. at first, i was impressed by it because i thought the behavior and dialog of its insecure young people was so well observed. it felt like one of the only things of its kind that i’ve read, more or less about real people living right now, that was neither a broad ugly satire, nor a pretentious drama exaggerating the specialness of its characters. the other thing i liked about it was that while it was largely about their sex lives, it didn’t seem at all sexy to me. the artist has a kind of distorted, rough-hewn visual style that i thought put some emotional distance between the overheated state of the characters, and the real consequences of their decisions. then it all got weird.

the artist stuck a really long, graphic sex scene in the middle of story that made me think...oh, maybe i AM supposed to be getting off to this? that’s weird, this all seems really bad to me, like every character is just mindlessly, selfishly bent on destruction and not doing much to make me like them, and i’d been reading along thinking “god i’m SO GLAD i’m not in my 20s anymore and i don’t have to deal with people like this--or with the pressure to act like this, as if using sex to create drama and being ‘crazy’ is the ultimate thing a person can do with their life”--and then suddenly it felt like maybe the comic was actually some kind of celebration of this lifestyle, or at the very least it’s an intensely sentimental portrait of a time of life, and of types of people, that i cannot imagine feeling sentimental about. then something else happened that made the comic even MORE uncomfortable to read, somehow: it had been gaining traction at an amazing pace, with tons of people leaving comments to the tune of “noooo don’t do it!”, the way you would yell at someone in a horror movie not to go back for the cat, as each character made the worst possible personal choice in every daily installment. the “don’t go in there!” response seemed pretty natural to me, but then the artist stepped in and made this announcement threatening to stop doing the comic altogether if the readers wouldn’t stop criticizing the characters. pretty much everyone in the comments was like “???”. many apologized if their comments were offensive, although they had no idea what they could have said that was wrong; other people, who seemed more sure that they were the ones being accused, said that they thought you were SUPPOSED to feel critical of the characters’ obviously bad decisions. that was how i felt, and at that point i was just enormously glad that i never comment on shit online or get involved in any type of community shit, especially when the artist started explaining laboriously that all of the characters represent some facet of the artist themselves and so therefore none of them are meant to be seen in a bad light at all and they’re all meant to be loved unconditionally and if you find yourself thinking mean things about the characters then you are effectively shitting all over the artist as a person. a lot of readers fell all over themselves to be supportive, and i just thought...this isn’t something you should support, though. it sucks that the artist is feeling so sensitive, but they’re about to have a book out in the world where they won’t have any ability to threaten readers who are “reading it wrong” or having incorrect thoughts about it. i mean...life is full of uncomfortable experiences and people you can’t relate to, i really don’t think we should be promoting this hopeless sanitization of all experiences in which trigger warnings used to be something that protected traumatized people from being randomly confronted with traumatic material, and now they’re used to just make sure nobody ever has to hear anything they don’t like, ever. anyone who cares about this artist should be helping them understand that they cannot control how people read their book or how they feel about each character and story in it. or failing that, they should be encouraged to just turn off instagram comments. but because of all this drama, i found myself reading all the comments obsessively--something i did when the blowup first happened, because i couldn’t find anything in there that i thought was mean or offensive, which added to my uncomfortable fascination with the whole thing--and that’s when i spotted a comment where somebody asked the artist is this was a furry comic. i wish this didn’t blow my mind, but it kind of did. i mean, it’s a book where almost all the characters are animals, and they occasionally have a bunch of raunchy sex. i think that if you’re a furry, meaning you’re interested in that sort of thing, this book is completely available for you to enjoy however you want. but this person needed the artist to FORMALLY CATEGORIZE IT as a furry comic. what the fuck is the meaning of that? it struck me as something that people in fandoms do, where they need every single thing to be labeled to death in an intensive and intractable way like it was science, the Final Word on everything in the universe, and they like *argue with each other* about whether they’re *allowed* to ship certain characters together or imagine them doing specific things, which is something you would only worry about if you thought the topic represented a literal material reality that could be adversely affected by people’s improper thoughts. i mean imagine if you felt that way about your jerkoff fantasies about fictional characters? that your horny thoughts are up for debate by hundreds of people you don’t even know? imagine feeling like that about OTHER PEOPLE’S jerkoff fantasies, like it’s worth fighting over and trying to CONTROL? like holy fucking shit you guys, STOP IT. it would even be one thing to ask the artist if THEY were a furry, which may or may not be anybody’s business, but to ask whether interpreting the comic through a furry lens is ALLOWED is like...well, actually, maybe it’s exactly in line with the artist’s recently expressed attitude, that you’re forced to think of the book in exactly the way that they personally think about it, or else you should have your reading privileges revoked. so now i’m still reading the comic, sort of compulsively, because i’m a little addicted to the soap opera of it and i’m ALSO a little addicted to the soap opera of the artist battling the readers over finding the correct orthodoxy for reading the comic--there’s a particular guy i’ve become aware of in the comics community because he is always harassing people with this mix of really caustic sarcasm and really bitter political self-righteousness, and he was surely the main person who was being “mean” to the characters, and HE’S STILL DOING IT IN EXACTLY THE SAME WAY, because i guess the artist would rather have problems with people than simply block them and eliminate them from the equation? but the whole entire thing is making me so uncomfortable i can hardly stand it. reading about like, dumb hot chicks with no self-control, and smug young shitheads who use the veil of progressiveness to hide or justify their predatory sexual behavior, and grownass adults who start drama with 20 year olds in order to feel relevant, AND being forced to know that the artist intends for me to embrace and adore all of this bad shit--like, people and things i left behind in real life, because it was all bad!--with ultimate love and compassion, or else they reserve the right to claim that they’re being personally attacked, has just become too much to take. it’s starting to make me feel sick. i really need to take the reigns on this thing. as much as the artist needs to forget about this control fantasy and stop being so precious about what they’re doing, i need to stop subjecting myself to something i find painful, embarrassing, and frankly creepy, if i ever wanna get back to a state where i have less to complain about.

tl;dr: stupid hipster is too sensitive to read a webcomic by a stupid hipster who is too sensitive for anyone to read their webcomic.

[a-student-out-of-time]

Twisted Sister Arc Review Part 2

Mindwipe

Welcome back everyone! Last time we looked how Kanade killed everyone, got the shit beaten out of her by a lot of people, mainly Nikei and Hibiki though, stuff the Mod doesn’t want to talk about and now that timeline is DED. Now it’s time to deal with Kanade proper as we already wasted a life on her (actually she ate two lives now, as she was responsible for Hajime dying the first time, he lost a life) and we don’t need any more lives being lost.

With a reset and briefing of the QC of how Kanade got strok, it’s time for Hajime and Nikei to beeline to Hope’s Peak and this time they are not fucking around as Kanade racked up a decent body count last time, and that’s not an experience they want to repeat. But first thing’s first time for Hajime to keep his promise to Massacre!Nikei and make sure that Iroha doesn’t become the first victim to Kanade and start the chain reaction off. I think we Anons do kinda feel guilty for getting Iroha killed the first time around as she was supposed to be on a date with Makoto that day, and of course Makoto’s wonderful luck meant the Prison Break had to happen on that day, and rather than stay with Makoto, she rushed in to stop Kanade. Then again, we all assumed that Kanade was still the same pathetic serial killer that Hajime and Sonia dealt with in the Concert Arc and didn’t get more generous buffs then Samus did from Smash 64 to Melee, so hindsight 20/20, I guess? Anyway, they get Iroha to go back to her ahoge boyfriend and now at Hope’s Peak it’s time for Hajime’s grand master plan to bring…EVERYONE FROM CLASS 77-B! *Insert Smash Ultimate meme here* Oh and Juzo, he’s useful too, I guess. Kanade arrives to begin the plot of Carrie, but instead gets tear gas in her face, a swift pound down from Class 77-B, and Juzo, and then is quickly disabled by Mikan. Again, like with the whole Kanade Vs. Hibiki fight beforehand, I would love to see an animation of Class 77-B just beating the living snot out of Kanade and this is much better imo then when Sonia kicked the living shit out of Kanade. There our reasons for hating Kanade were basically all the shit she pulled in SDAR2, but here we just had a bad timeline where Kanade killed a bunch of people, and likeable people as well, and thus as they say…the fallen have been avenged.

Of course, getting Kanade’s arse handed to her was half the battle, as now the focus is on; what the heck is going on here? A quick check from the biology people revealed some very worrying facts. The first one is that Kanade’s syringe contained an addictive which not only can keep a person awake for days, but the chemical compound is unique, only came out for a few months in 2003 and all the people involved in it are in jail. Then there is the fact that she has dermal armour which looks like skin on her, which while flexible like skin, is strong enough to block bullets and blades. The experimental nature of it makes it highly expensive as well, meaning whoever is behind this, they are loaded and have resources. And then there is the confirmation that yes, she has a BCI. One that is full of combat data and information on Class 77-B. This is the most worrying part in my opinion. Anyone in the Despairs with enough money and resources could do all the above but VERY few people knew that Hibiki came over to Hope’s Peak and bonded with Class 77-B. The data required for that narrows suspect list down a lot and the implications are…worrying. Whoever backed Kanade, they are not to be underestimated.

And then comes when Yasuke is relevant to the plot for once and the whole Mindwipe proposal. So first let’s talk Yasuke. A lot of people hated the idea he was on the side of good here, as they prefereed it when he was just Junko’s boyfriend. Thing is though, I feel like Yasuke could work here. Remember he never bought Junko’s despair ideology and while he is an arsehole, he could be the ‘Byakuya’ of the group in which he is a cold jerk who says harsh things, but said harsh things are required as there are uncomfortable truths out there which the rest of the QC are either too afraid or too polite to say. I just hope Mod doesn’t bow down to peer pressure and make Yasuke a bone fila villain just because people hate him, but maybe tone down his jackarsey a bit. I know its canonically accurate but not everyone has read Zero and as such I don’t think people are used to that kind of harsh words coming from a non-antagonistic character.

And then there is the Mindwipe…naturally this a decision which has caused many readers to be split on it, and even for the QC to have a scrum debate over it. Don’t lie, you all heard the music. And unlike with a scrum debate where one side is clearly one, here both sides have a point. Mindwiping Kanade is ethically wrong on so many levels, and easily the darkest thing the QC have done, but they also don’t have a lot of options because there is a Prison Break to deal with, and Kanade was gonna be killed anyway so this is keeping her body alive but just killing her mind. They may be the good guys here, but given how morally deprived their opponents are, sometimes you do have to swoop to their level because you have little choice in the matter. It’s also interesting to see everyone’s viewpoints on it, some stating that from leadership like characters such as Sonia and Nikei arguing that at times you do have to make difficult choices and they don’t have the luxury of being morally right all the time, pragmatic characters like Sora stating that a mindwiped and redeemed Kanade could be beneficial to them if they do go down this route, to those who have spiritual issues like with Gundham, moral problems like with Chiaki and ethical problems like with Kyoji. Nobody is split in the middle, you either think mindwiping is the best possible solution, or if it’s so wrong it cannot be done. Arguing got so bad that Yoruko had to step in and get Hibiki, the most important person as far this matter goes, to decide. And Hibiki vents her feelings on the matter, and decides that since both sides have good points, to just vote on the matter.

This is one of the best parts here because it isn’t done by the characters but rather the audience. After all, given this is such a morally questionable decision it makes sense for the audience to decide what path they are going down. And thus, votes are casted…a lot more people read this then I suspected, and a significant majority go towards mindwiping. I dunno how they explain the votes though as there clearly isn’t that many people voting so how does one in-universe count the Anons’ votes? But again, I’m not surprised the mindwipe came through as Kanade is a popular character in the fandom (She ranked #2 in the official SDAR2 popularity poll, just behind Sora) so any chances of Kanade getting a redemption arc especially as we would have a Ryoko-espe character with her, would be something the fanbase would gobble up. I just hope none of the QC resent this decision, they may regret it but they have to remember it’s a hard choice for all of them and they didn’t have a lot of options. Even those against the Mindwipe would have to do their part, after all they are a team. At least Yasuke is considerate enough for all blame regarding the consequences of the mindwipe to be directed at him as he kinda forced the decision onto us. Hopefully Kyoji and Kokoro made sure he didn’t turn Kanade into a Despair Sleeper Agent or something. However, I did genuinely enjoy the audience participation here and I hope more chances like this come up in the future as it gives the audience a greater degree of control on how the story pans out.

That’s Kanade dealt with, but The QC cannot rest yet, because her escaping wasn’t the only bad thing to occur, there’s a Prison Break and tons of criminals running around that need wrangling! And with that the second part of the review concludes. Next time for the final time we talk about dealing with them damn prisoners and my final overall thoughts on the Arc! See ya then- Review Anon

[mimiplaysgames]

A Powerful Enough Dream (Ch. 7)

Pairing: Terra/Aqua (eventually) Rating: T Word Count: 5,632

Summary: Terra hid Aqua’s Keyblade somewhere. She starts looking for it in Radiant Garden, which holds more secrets than she realizes.

Read on AO3

A/N: I said last chapter that I had two more and here is one of them! Thank you so much for the responses from the last chapter. I’m really pushing through these fast, so I apologize that their quality is not up to my to my standard, but I hope they’re fun nonetheless! I’ve really missed playing with different characters, I don’t get the opportunity in my other fics.

~*~*~*~*~

Stones, pt. 1

Radiant Garden relies on surgical intervention to remain standing: pipes on pipes on pipes, holding the foundations together and distributing water, electricity, and steam to individual homes, both the rebuilt and the not-quite-there-yet. 

If Aqua paints a vivid memory of what it used to look like in her mind, she can vaguely see the similarities. She spared Terra here, of all places, and look what happened to it: another on her list of casualties. 

Does it make me terrible that I don’t regret letting him live?

Is it even possible to regret only the consequences and not the cause? 

It’s not the time to wallow, she tells herself. Radiant Garden is massive and Terra’s crumbs could be anywhere. She instructs Riku to land his Gummiship on the same terrace she last saw her Keyblade, right in sight of Ansem the Wise’s castle, which is worse for wear and will probably never earn back that former glory. 

She finds Ansem awaiting her arrival on the ground. Kairi is excited, wanting to see how things in the city have improved, grabbing Riku by the elbow and demanding him to take her to the Marketplace while pulling on Sora’s shirt and asking him to let her visit Merlin. Donald grumbles about wasted time, and Goofy rides along with it. Aqua is more than happy to stay with Ansem for now. 

“I’ve locked myself in my home for days,” he grins when she meets him. “There’s a miracle in seeing a familiar face.”

Two large bodyguards, dressed in decorative suits, flank Ansem. By his side is a short, lanky young man in a white coat. Definitely not a soldier: no one who allows that much hair to cover his face would be serious about going to combat. He smiles (not too much, but not too timid), and introduces himself as Ienzo. 

“We should continue the pleasantries inside if we want to avoid any trouble,” Ienzo says, adjusting his collar three times but never getting it straight.

“Yet trouble comes without our consent,” Ansem says, his gaze glowering beyond the Gummiship when a group of people, dressed in handmade uniforms, approach. He gives Aqua a wink. “They have knocked on my door every day since my return. Might as well use the opportunity at hand.”

Leading the group of oncomers are two people with the most severe faces Aqua has ever seen on anyone. They stride with such determined cohesion that she realizes they’ve been idling around, waiting for a chance to corner Ansem.

One of them is a tall man with brown hair and a single scar scraped over his nose. His blue eyes swallow her into a deep, cold well. He observes everything with a distance, his skin so unmoved that Aqua wonders if he’s ever had the pleasure of laughing. He dresses like he’s casual: leather jacket with a fur trim and too many belts to sit comfortably, but he doesn’t wear the impression that he’s good with people. 

The other is a woman with a permanent glare on her face. It’s a hard expression against the soft curls of her rose-colored hair. But she’s nothing elegant - if anything, this woman is power in short stature, a red cape hanging off one shoulder and a sheathed weapon prepared on the other. Aqua’s impressed by her presence - she wishes she could carry herself the same one day, and hopes she only caught her in a bad mood.

“Leon, Lightning,” Ansem greets, “I see you waste no time.”

Aqua hitches her breath. Noctis and Garnet are so gentle by comparison, it’s difficult to see how they can sing praise for these two.

“I’m usually not the betting kind, Ansem,” Leon says, hands at his hips. Aqua never expected such a comforting voice to come out of his mouth. “But you’ve made me a different man. I’ve wagered you dug your tomb in there.”

Lightning makes nothing subtle when she rolls her eyes.

“I may already have,” Ansem says, his fists tense under his sleeves, but he keeps pleasant. His bodyguards are on alert, and Ienzo throws glances, not looking at anyone in the eye. “Never leaving my chair, however, wreaks havoc on my old joints.”

Lightning crosses her arms and tosses a disgusted look. “We gave you a set of conditions on your stay,” she snaps.

Leon holds a hand up. “Lightning-”

“No one wants you here.” She’s so much shorter than Ansem’s bodyguards, who are ready to pounce, but there’s no way she’d lose to them. “So what’s it going to be?” 

Aqua expects Ansem to retort to such an unnecessary comment, but he doesn’t. The way his eyes cast downward acknowledges some uninvited truth. Instead of running to his defense, Aqua hesitates: his silent admission makes her wonder if there’s justification to all this. 

“You’ve given me little of a choice.”

“The hard or the easy way. It’s more than you deserve when his Restoration Committee has done everything you should have claimed responsibility for.” Lightning points to Leon, who hides half his face behind his hand before realizing there’s no point to his modesty. 

“I suppose I cannot offer a token of peace,” Ansem says, not really a question. “An olive branch. A new Keyblade wielder for the cause.”

Aqua inhales sharply. Under no circumstances is it appropriate for her to meddle into world affairs by inserting herself directly into their politics, especially as a bargaining chip. 

Ansem introduces her, “Keyblade Master Aqua. Competent, strong, a formidable survivor and a dear friend.”

She wants to bite back. She bites her tongue. 

Lightning’s eyes are as light as a distant sky that they’re almost silver, and they glint at the recognition of her name. Solemnly (shockingly), she says, “You’re Terra’s wielder.” 

But Leon scrutinizes. “Is he not around?”

“Not right now...” It’s far enough from the truth that it’s not a complete lie. Aqua’s always been terrible about that.

A muscle twitches in Lightning’s jaw. “I’m so sorry.” 

Leon recognizes what she’s trying to say, losing the stiff nerve he had moments earlier as his eyes find a moment of silence in the horizon.  

You’re Terra’s wielder. They expected him and Aqua would be inseparable. 

Leon joins his partner by crossing his own arms, all the threads that grieved tying up again. “Aqua, welcome to Radiant Garden. We still have some growing pains to deal with.” He shoots an icy look towards Ansem that is so solid, it’s almost metal. “The conditions stay the same. You have until tomorrow to decide.”

As they turn away, their proclamations made, Lightning gives Aqua one more compassionate glance - at least as much as this woman is capable of making. 

“That wasn’t appropriate,” Aqua murmurs to Ansem. It’s a sickly feeling to be used that way, a sour taste in her mouth. She wants to forget it ever happened.

Ansem studies the cobblestone beneath them. “There’s much in my life I will have to atone for, things I should have done instead of underestimating their importance. Things I should not have committed when I was blinded by them. I will start with your forgiveness on this matter.”

“Is it true that no one wants you here?”

“Aqua,” he breathes, “would you believe me if I told you that I was single handedly responsible for the destruction of two children’s lives?”

“...Children?”

“Two unique children.” He says it so assuredly that it sounds absurd. “Two unnatural children, unlike you and me, and I’ve reminded them as such. Would you say they have a right to exist?”

“Of course they do.”

“I wasn’t as kind.”

Aqua swallows bile. 

Ienzo steps forward, his eagerness ready to scream. “We’re doing all we can to repent for this, and are already on our way with our plans.” Softly, he says, “I’m glad Sora is here. We can officially start our experiments today.”

“Then what shall I do for you, Aqua?” Ansem asks. I will start with your forgiveness on this matter.

“I need to find my Keyblade.”

He chuckles. “Does it resemble you?”

Aqua blushes. A Keyblade is meant to reflect the person, but it’s such a vain thought. “You could say that.”

“Then my castle is the best place to start.”

At the entrance awaiting them is none other than Lea, leaning on the wall like he owns the place. From where he stands, high atop a staircase that makes up for a hill, he had a good look over the action that transpired below.

“What’s the verdict?” he asks. Does he even have a right to know? Aqua has to wonder.

Ansem ignores him. Ienzo looks down on him as though he’s the one who’s taller. Lea brushes them aside with gusto.

“They’ve never been fun to talk to, anyway,” he tells Aqua when the bodyguards only give him so much of a passing glance.

She smirks. “Do you even belong here?”

“Please, I have better taste than this bunch. Zexion knows why I’m here and he hates me for it.”

“Who?”

“Oh right, he calls himself I-en-zo now.” He smacks his lips, the flavor unpleasant. “Doesn’t roll off the tongue.”

“Why would he hate you?”

“Over a dumb little thing.” He swats with his hands before hiding them in his pockets. “Dying’s not a relevant topic for Nobodies.”

“Did you kill someone he cared about?”

“Do I look like a savage to you?” Lea shrugs. “I actually targeted him - but look. He’s fine.”

Lea leads her inside. This place desperately needs a maid. Pipes line the walls, pummeling through holes and leaving dust and debris in crumbles on the floor. The castle itself is loud with overlapping voices in spitting debates about what procedures to follow next, with exhaust and machine whirring, with computer speakers flatly informing their users. Everything trails down the hallways, accepting the reality that it will be eavesdropped. It’s ugly compared to the Land of Departure, but Aqua figures that’s an unfair judgment.

She wants to be taken to where Terra’s body had slept for years during his apprenticeship. She doesn’t ask. 

“What was Ansem’s choice?” Lea asks. “Leon and Lightning have been pestering him for an answer.”

“He still hasn’t given them one.”

Lea scoffs. “He’s delaying the inevitable.”

“What were the conditions?”

“He either gives them free reign to enter the castle and use its services as they need it, or they kick him out.”

Aqua stops, but Lea keeps his stride. “They would take his home either way.”

And he gestures for her to follow. “Do you blame them?”

“It’s not right.”

Now he stops. “This world didn’t exactly fall into the Realm of Darkness, but it made little difference. Heartless everywhere. Halls without voices. Sora’s a bright and lucky guy, a shining star, and he gave it back to the people. They madeshift an army out of no one, and brought their home back to life. Ansem did nothing.”

“You think it’s a just punishment.” Aqua shifts her weight. “I know about the experimentation that happened here. But that was all Xehanort.”

“Sure, but that makes Ansem a weak leader.” Lea steps close enough for her to get a good look into his eyes: a fiery emerald that is too polished, intense and nothing like she’s seen in other people. His pupils flicker something black, engorged with something vengeful. “For what he’s done to some vulnerable people, he doesn’t deserve the sympathy.”

Some. So it’s personal. 

“I grew up here,” Lea continues. “There’s been witness accounts of moans and cries coming from the dungeon here. We all heard it. Yeah, that was Xehanort’s doing, but Ansem’s not deaf.”

He turns over his shoulder, leaving her stranded in a long, humid hallway where the steam leaks out. The castle struggles to breathe as though the pipes serve as its ventilators. 

The Aqua before the Realm of Darkness would have turned her nose up to such scum. 

The Aqua now believes she still would but… they both survived the Realm of Darkness together. They talked about memories of the sunset, of their favorite desserts that they’d enjoy if they ever went free…

And Ansem constantly repeated how much he deserved to watch the moon freeze in orbit for the rest of his life. It sounded so overdramatic at the time.

I will start with your forgiveness on this matter.

That’s a fate he’ll have to walk on his own. Right now, he’s somewhere in a room hashing away for whatever experiment they’re preparing for. Aqua doesn’t want to know a single detail. 

She follows the last of Lea’s steps, taking the only hallway down until it lets her into an office, where it greets her with the face of a ghost.

A painted portrait hangs high on the wall opposite the entrance. Slashed just above the nose, the bottom limps and curls over. Terra looks good with brown eyes, but she doesn’t have to see the entire thing to know that his expression is ugly. 

Lea rummages through books (if they’re in good enough condition). The office in general has seen better days, what with the singed furniture and ashy pools of dust littering the shelves. The walls have the scientific scribbles from someone hypnotized and the battle scars from someone flailing weapons and fire about. 

Hypnotized, Aqua stands before the painting, gently rolling up the crumpled canvas to bring the face whole. White hair and with a faraway look in his eyes, Terra is a warm embrace and a creepy stranger all at once. She traces her fingertips at his taut jawline, the flat bumps of painstrokes unyielding and cold. This Terra will not and would never smile at her. 

The pages of Lea’s books continue to sputter, but he’s only reading her. Aqua lets go and looks away. 

Brisk footsteps stutter into the room. Ienzo rolls his eyes but doesn’t have to warrant a hello for Lea to ask: “Is this all of it?”

“The rest is in your imagination.” Now, Ienzo is confident, straightening his wrist cuffs with impeccable accuracy.

Lea’s usual bemused expression freezes. “I don’t like working too hard, Zex. You know that.”

The air between these two is electric. It needs to be redirected before it cracks a skull open. 

“What are you looking for?” Aqua asks. 

“All of Xehanort’s notes and diaries regarding his experiments,” Lea says like he’s looking for candy. Not batting an eyelash. Not hesitating, nor embarrassed. He’s turned into a different person in the blink of a moment.

“W- Why?”

“Old Ansem’s going to destroy them all. Isn’t he, Zex?”

Ienzo teeths. “Of course doing the right thing would be beneath you, Axel.”

“We shouldn’t be keeping any of it,” Aqua says. “Darkness like that in the wrong hands-”

“You’d be dooming us all,” Lea says, one hand on a hip. “We could find new ways to protect ourselves from the darkness if we knew more about it. We could make stronger barriers, or help those step away from the wrong path. How are we supposed to prevent people from repeating Xehanort’s mistakes if we forget they ever happened?”

“Those experiments were disgusting,” Ienzo says in broken murmurs.

“You’re going to tell me,” Lea says, only to Aqua, “that you’d parade about Keyblade wielders fighting the darkness without truly understanding it? Is that what a good teacher does?”

No… 

“We have teachings we rely on,” is the best she could say. 

“If it’s the same garbage Yen Sid rambles about.” Lea snatches a book from up high on the shelf, one of the few that was spared from whatever chaos ensued here, dust fibers hanging on for dear life on the edge of pages. Lea reads the cover. “Affairs of the Heart by the Master of Masters. Funny stuff.”

As much as she hates that book, he can’t possibly consider that ancient Keyblade texts are inferior to Xehanort’s self-obsessed, cock-bulleted disorders. 

“How can you say that about something so important?” 

“Thou shalt strut your holiness and scream at spiders because they look scary. Remember children, darkness is bad for you,” Lea mimics. “I’d be surprised if the Master ever spoke like this in real life.”

“He was a pioneer.”

“He was a quack.” Lea tosses the book on its back. “None of it is relevant anymore. I want to help Sora. I can’t do that on outdated superstitions you’re desperate to call science.”

“We are helping Sora,” Ienzo says. “The way we’re doing it will have nothing to do with darkness.” 

“It better not.” Lea takes a breath to calm down. “But don’t act righteous with me when we both know your current methods are based on what Xehanort started.”

Aqua hasn’t known Lea for long, and yet seeing him unravel like this raises the hair on her skin. He’s otherwise so composed every second. She can’t imagine Ienzo hurting someone Lea cares about, and maybe that’s nowhere close to the truth. 

“What kind of experiments are we talking about, here?” she asks Ienzo. 

“The kind that rights our wrongs,” he says with worship in his voice. “The kind that gives our friends,” he glances at Lea, “the life they deserve. A chance to bring them back and make amends.”

“Xehanort’s not capable of giving anyone the tools to do good,” Aqua quips. They stare at her, and a destructive wave of shame washes over Ienzo’s face. Yet, nothing he’s promising sounds so bad. Why is it so difficult to accept?

“Burning Xehanort’s books will make sure we will never repeat his particular methods.”

“It won’t,” Lea stresses. “It would only lead you blind. You need them as a reference.”.

“Please do not worry, Master Aqua,” Ienzo says as though Lea isn’t in the room with them. “We would never endanger anyone.” 

Lea snorts. “With Vexen heading the work?”

“Even is smarter than I am,” says Ienzo. 

“He has little boundaries.”

“I will no longer bore the Keyblade Master with such trivial disagreements that have nothing to do with her matters.” Ienzo irons the creases on his sleeve with his hand. “Master Ansem has mentioned you were in need of help. You were looking for your Keyblade?” he asks Aqua.

Suddenly, she wants to leave this place behind. 

“Is it blue and skinny?” Lea asks, flipping through pages. “It was way too small for Terra.”

“I seem to recall something like that in Xehanort’s possession,” Ienzo says, his chin dug into his fingers. “Or rather, Terra’s.”

“Terra found it downstairs.” Lea’s cynical gaze on Ienzo suggests some hidden language only they understand. “In the Superior’s chamber of all places.” 

“How-”

“He had help.”

“We’ve set up security measures to prevent anyone from going back.”

Lea scoffs. “You didn’t notice it the first time.”

Aqua holds a hand to her chest. “Would he have returned it there?”

“The dungeons were where Xehanort conducted his work,” Ienzo says. 

“And Terra doesn’t strike me as the masochist type to put himself through that hell twice,” Lea goats until his confidence wavers. “But if I think about it… he loves punishing himself.”

That depends on the what and the why. 

“So it’s a possibility,” she says. 

“If he went down there again, I would have noticed it,” Ienzo says.

“Whatever you say,” Lea says. “Repeat it enough times, and I’ll believe it, too.”

The wall where the painting proudly stands serves as the way through - a secret passageway to an armory of giant vials. Ienzo says they all used to carry hearts. When Aqua asks what happened to them, Ienzo replies with the hope that they found their way back to where they belong. Wherever that is. 

At the computer terminal, Ienzo says he will not escort them. 

Lea doesn’t think it’s a problem.

Aqua doesn’t know what difference it would make.

The way down is a stupidly long spiral staircase hidden underneath a trap door. The trap door itself is a terrible defense mechanism, but anyone with right minds would simply give up halfway down. Despite being so fit, Aqua is gasping for breath by the time she reaches the bottom, and Lea doesn’t fare much better. 

“That bastard knew what we were getting ourselves into and never said anything,” Lea pants when they approach the door that opened up to a single, bleached hallway.

The air changes immediately when they enter, and the breath Aqua desperately needs turns sour. Weakness sinks heavy and creeps up her legs, shaking them into noodles. An airiness sits at the top of her crown, but she wills herself to stay standing. 

This place sweats darkness. The walls cry, the floor drools, and the locked doors they pass writhe for a breath of fresh air. There’s been a lot of agony and screaming in these rooms. Aqua can’t hear them, but nothing in the Realm of Darkness - so primal, so omniscient, so ancient - compares to the sins that happened here. The Master always said that darkness is evil. Here is the proof, and here is her answer. 

“Terra would never come back here,” she says, her stomach hurling sideways. 

Lea acts like he’s taking a normal stroll. “Are you absolutely sure?”

“It’s torture. You don’t feel that?”

“Eh, I’m not convinced of poltergeists if that’s what you’re asking.” He snorts. “Are you old-fashioned Keyblade wielders always this sensitive?”

“I’m going to be sick.”

“As long as it’s not on my shoes, do it wherever you like.” He points down the hallway. “Come on, it’s just at the end.”

An open chamber awaits them. The room in here isn’t sickly - if anything, it’s dead. It isn’t witness to anything sinful; it’s just nothing. 

But the layout of this place...

Aqua forgets she’s nauseous. “Who built this room?” she commands, storming inside. 

It’s near identical to the throne room she left Ven in. Corrupted and sterilized, but still home. Whoever did it had to have known. The chair is a mirror image, as though Ven could easily nap here. 

“Xemnas,” Lea says casually, arms crossed and leaning on the door frame. “Guess it’s his thinking room or… whatever he used it for. Censored reasons? I don’t wanna know.”

“That can’t be. That-” She grits her teeth. That means Xemnas was looking for Ven when he found me. That was all I was worth. 

She wants to slap herself. The moment she learned he was Xehanort’s Nobody should have been the moment she stopped caring about his companionship. She doesn’t care. She’s just an idiot who should have known better of a voice living in the darkness. 

At least Ven is safe.

Lea chortles. “I swear I can see the steam coming out of your ears.”

Aqua realizes she’s balled her hands into fists. “When I see Xehanort, I’ll make him regret he’s ever met Ven. I’ll make him mortified of the memory.”

“You mean Xemnas.”

“Why does that matter? I’m killing him. Anyone with Xehanort’s face.”

Lea gapes. “But not anyone with Terra’s face?”

She glares at him, and he holds his arms up to defend himself. “Forget I asked.”

“There’s nothing here,” she spits. “We’re wasting our time.”

Her fury gives her immunity from the hallway’s ailments, which is now still and quiet, except for the stomping of her feet all the way out. She’s blind, running through thoughts in her mind that don’t finish, clammy from the heat. She only sees where she’s going when she halts at the bottom of the stairwell, cursing her terrible luck that she’ll have to climb the entire way back up for nothing.

“You shouldn’t blame yourself,” she hears Lea say from behind her, his arms crossed.

“Excuse me?”

“For befriending Xemnas.”

Aqua draws a long, agonizing inhale. “Don’t mention his name again.”

Lea gawks, a mocking smirk spread on his lips. “Or what? You’ll spit bubbles at me?”

“I can make them hurt.”

Hands on hips, Lea leans forward and wags his face. “Xemnas, Xemnas, Xemnas.”

She snaps out of it, hiding her face behind her hand. Deadly bubbles sounded stupid as soon as the words left her mouth. Foolish.

Lea bursts out in laughter. “Terra must find your temper really amusing.”

Temperamental is not a description she’s proud to wear. Surviving the Realm of Darkness should have made her stronger than ever, not explode at every whim or thought. 

“I wouldn’t have befriended Xemnas,” she murmurs, “in my right frame of mind. If he succeeded, then Ven...” She exhales, but it doesn’t cool her down.

Lea considers her, all his mischief flying away from his eyes. “Xemnas was really good with very desperate people.”

She stays quiet.

“You and Terra share that in common.”

“Hmm?”

“Self-flagellation.”

“I’m not…” Aqua brings her hand to her chest. Her heart thumps loudly, more sluggish than it should. She always relied on Terra to step around the corner and banish her awful mood. It’s hard to imagine him being this pathetic. 

“He’s more whiny about it.” Lea breaks out a grin.

Then again, did Terra depend on me to do the same for him? If I’m not around, who does he turn to? Is that the reason why he went to Xehanort?

How much of his absence played a role in welcoming Xemnas into my life?

“Is it always that simple?” she asks. “Being deceived?”

Lea softens. “I find it hard to believe you’re easily tricked. If I say Knock, knock, you’d say, There’s no door.” 

Aqua has to admit she cracked a smile. 

“But it isn’t you, it’s Xemnas,” he continues. “Come to anyone who has nothing, who is Nothing, with promises of a better life and a reason to live - of course you’d eat the sweets out of his hands. He had twelve followers in the original Organization, after all.”

“I wish Terra believed in himself.”

Lea frowns: a boggy sight, something that slowly rolled over his face where he can’t find the smile again. “I had a best friend growing up. He joined the Organization with me. Smarter than me, one rank higher. Xemnas learned to confide in him really closely.” 

She sighs. “That can’t have been comfortable for you.”

“Ha.” Lea flexes his shoulders. “Whatever purpose he found in that role completely changed him… but I guess the possibility was always there. He schemed long cons like they were children’s puzzle pieces - give him one clue and he’ll figure out who done it. He stepped ahead of every drawback that I swore he had psychic vision once. If you needed to get out of a tight situation, he was your man. There’s no one better.

“But he needed to be in absolute control, and eventually his genius ideas lost their brilliance and his visions lost their point. The moment he forgot who I was to him, he forgot us. That grass-eating bastard.”

“You’re hoping he’ll bounce back.”

“I have to hope, the same way you do.” He shrugs. “If Terra can make it, then Isa can make it. I’ll buy out every green vegetable that exists in this multiverse if it means I can hear him terrorize me with the way he chews his celery one more time.”

“Chews his celery?”

“Like a damn rabbit.”

She bubbles first, a warm turn in her chest before it spills out of her mouth. Then she can’t stop herself. It takes several seconds for her to recognize that laughing is familiar. Lea doesn’t join her, running a hand through his hair.

“I needed that,” she gasps. “Thank you, Lea.” 

“You’ll be back at throwing empty threats when you remember what we got to do.” He nudges his head upward, toward the spiral staircase that’s too tall for them to see the top. “You really should work on those if you want to seem intimidating.”

“I shouldn’t make threats at all.” She takes the first step up.

“Sure. You’re too innocent for that.”

“It’s not dignified.”

“Well excuse me, Master Distinguished.” He huffs and puffs. They’ve barely climbed up ten steps. “Do you have any idea where Terra might have hidden your Keyblade if not here?”

“Home.” That’s the quick answer, but it would have been true if he had the chance. “Somewhere he felt secure.”

“He might as well have shoved it in his pants,” Lea groans. “The dungeon was the most secure place in the castle.”

~*~*~*~*~

Outside the city limits is nothing but badlands where the forests had been, darkening as the sun dips closer to the horizon. But as Aqua walks down the steps that lead her back to the town square, the badlands fade from her view, engulfed by rooftops with missing tiles and hurdles of white and yellow flowers here and there, doing a poor job at framing the steaming pipes. 

Lea left her to commit to his work: How will I get the rest? Easy. I’ll tell Ienzo that if he doesn’t cough up all the reports, I’ll rip his heart out myself and find the first Heartless to feed it to. He’ll really believe I’ll do it… Don’t look at me like that, you know he deserves it.

A long way down to a dead end. Terra would have not wanted it to be this hard. With him, it never was, at least not until Aqua passed the Mark of Mastery with perfect scores. 

Every step she’s been on since coming back was a stone, lodged on the surface of an ocean that stretched forever. Terra’s stepping stones, tracing his history from one clue to the next, and eventually she assumed she’d reach solid ground. 

Now she’s on her last stone, with nowhere to go but to drown, as if he vanished before he was able to finish his path.

Aqua bumps shoulders with another woman, thinking of nothing but deep, black water. 

“I’m sorry,” Aqua breathes. The woman has flowers tucked into a weave basket, some of them knocked over to the ground. “I’ll pick them up for you.”

“You’re new,” she says as Aqua scrambles. She’s feminine, eyes as dense as grass, her long brown hair beautifully arranged in a braid with a pink bow. “The new Keyblade wielder?”

Word travels too fast for Aqua’s liking. “Yes.” She hands the bouquet of flowers over, trying not to crush the petals together. “I’m Aqua.”

The woman gasps loudly enough for passersby to lurch over their shoulders. She leans in close enough for Aqua to only see green irises around dark pupils. “You look like an Aqua.”

Is ‘Thank you’ a proper response to that?

“I’m Aerith.” She looks over Aqua’s shoulders. “Is Terra with you?”

“He’ll come by later.” Aqua is relieved at how assured she sounds.

“Good. I won’t forgive him if he forgets me.” Aerith’s smile widens as she studies Aqua’s hair and her outfit. “You’re lovelier than I imagined. Have you met Lightning and Squall?”

“Squall?”

“Oops.” Aerith shakes her head at herself. “I meant Leon. Sorry, it’s so hard to call him that.” She clears her throat. “Leon won’t take back his birth name until Radiant Garden is sparkling again. But nothing’s ever good enough.” She pouts, jutting her bottom lip out. “Do you think it’s ugly?”

Behind Aerith is a wagon with more flowers. She’s the one planting them throughout the city in a feeble attempt to hide the rusty pipes. 

“It’s charming.” 

Aerith claps her hands. “You should tell him that. He’s such an oaf.”

Aqua thinks of Leon’s iron wall for eyes. “He’s certainly professional.”

“Oh,” Aerith murmurs, “did he scare you?” She snaps her fingers. “I bet Lightning did worse. They’re both idiots. Trust me, they’re mostly harmless.”

“Really?”

“Mostly. They’re thick.” Aerith tends to her basket, a memory brightening up her face. “Squall- I mean, Leon was my neighbor. We grew up together. He used to lock himself up in his room and I threw rocks at his window to get his attention. He’s still the same.

“Lightning went to the same school as us. A boy there - I think his name was Tseng - used to yank at my braid all morning before class. He had the biggest crush on me and I didn’t want to say anything… but I admit it hurt. Anyway, it drove her crazy, and when she had enough, she slammed his face onto his desk, breaking his nose. She met Leon at detention later that day. I don’t remember why, he was always in detention for talking back at teachers. 

“Ever since then, the three of us have been inseparable.” Aerith giggles. “Terra reminds me a lot of Leon: sensitive and to themselves.”

“Terra’s not that mean,” Aqua says before she could stop herself, blushing behind her hand. 

But Aerith is loving it. “That’s because he’s too smart for that.” She pauses. “You should see Tifa. Terra stayed with her and she’d love to meet you. She’s not far.” She points down an alleyway. “Just five blocks down and then you’d have to take the street to the left. Once you get close to the outskirts, you’ll see a sign for Seventh Heaven. You can’t miss it.” 

“Oh, I-” It’s the polite thing to do. But Ven. “I have a lot of work to do.”

“I won’t forgive you if you don’t see her.” Aeirth winks, then adds for compensation: “It would make Terra smile. I believe it, deep within my heart.”

Maybe it’s the use of the word “heart” that makes it sound like a prophecy. 

“Ah.” Aqua inhales. “I guess a short trip won’t be too bad.”

Aerith squirms - she’s restraining a knowing laugh.

“What?”

“It’s easy to get you or Terra to do anything if I hold one of you against the other.” She shrugs her shoulders as a way to hug herself since her arms are busy with the flowers. “That’s your secret weakness. All the heroes have one.”

[what-a-messsss]

1x10 rewatch

Ok, let’s get back to Walt Longmire: Disaster Boi of S1 and finish this season off with a...something.  Pleading look to the heavens, maybe?  

How do I keep forgetting that Lizzie is a thing, even after our decision to find her some nice Smitten Cowboy to be with?  Holy hell, but why are you still keeping your dead wife’s ashes in the kitchen?  At least you kept Lucian in your fucking truck.  In a coffee can.  What is with you and breakfast beverages??  We all know you need lots of therapy, but this seems like a kind of niche issue.

“Trust me, you don’t, uh, you don’t want that tea.”  Buddy.  

Poor Lizzie.  She really is so nice.  And he’s such a fucking disaster.  “You seem weird,” she says, in reaction to him going bug eyed from having to convince her not to drink his dead wife without her realizing that’s what he was doing.  Sweetie, you have no idea.  And she really does like him.  

This is.  So.  Gloriously awkward.  And Lizzie’s there in her bare feet.  And all we need is for Branch to show up and we’ll have a full house, and aaaaahahaha, Walt is so trying to freeze time with the power of his brain.  Staring off into the Not Here place with his mouth pressed just so...  Awwwww, suffer.

I had forgotten that Ferg was the one who actually did the body work on the Bronco!  Even did the paint work, because that old truck has never looked so good.  I know Omar loaned Walt his truck while the Bronco was “in the shop,” but I like that the writers gave Ferg the skills to do that.

“If anybody... has something they want to say, I suggest you think twice about it.”  We don’t need to say anything; we’re too busy laughing at you.

Oof, and then Lizzie hearing Martha’s voice still on the message greeting.  She’s really quite a good actress.  Lizzie isn’t a terribly subtle character generally, but she gives her these really fine microexpressions that give you occasional glimpses that there is more going on under the surface, and she’s not just an open book.  : (  Making me actually like her and feel bad, not just cringe when she comes on.  Dang iiiiiiiit.

Ok, that does NOT look like Sharpie.  I’m sorry, but that looks like a paint pen or lipstick more than it looks like a Shapie on the dead kid’s forehead.  Even if it were one of the jumbo Sharpies, they don’t write like that, they aren’t that colour on skin, and the thickness of the lines are all off.  Which is not really relevant, but it buuuuugs meeeee.  Pedantic little shit that I am.

Ope, Branch is basically past the angst about Walt not liking him and straight into just giving him nothing but attitude.  Which, while I can hardly blame anyone for giving Walt shit, does get old pretty fast.

Walt, you are So Bad at talking to people, even when it’s for the damn job!  Yeah, it’s fine to have Ferg fill Vic in, but at least acknowledge that she’s there, damn.  Honestly it would have been good for both Vic and Ferg for Walt to tell her to follow Ferg’s lead on this one.  He knows the case, the local history, the players, the situation, and probably more about archery than her, and she could stand to take the reminder that working 5 years in big city homicide still doesn’t make her the senior deputy and that she needs to be ok learning from even Ferg.  Shit, I keep finding more and more reasons to be annoyed at Walt.  Is he even really that good of a sheriff?  I’m shaking the ol’ Magic 8 Ball here, and signs point to frickin’ NO.  Ugh.

Five HUNDRED dollars says that he didn’t check with Mathias before going on the Rez for official police business again.  Jackass.

Can’t really blame Viho for being super bitter.  And Ayasha is so sweet.  This whole family dynamic is so well done.

Aw, Ferg is so excited about the gum wrapper.  “Still minty!”  How are you such a sparklebunny?  Bless.

Detective Falessssss.  His opening line is so great, but uuuuuuuhg, he’s as bad as Walt with his singlemindedness about the case.  

“Talk to Ruby.  She runs my life.”  She runs the department, bucko, and you’d be lost without her!  Lost, I say!  But you treat her like your personal social secretary, and that’s crap.

In Fales’ dubious defense, you were just super weird about that whole encounter.  

Omar!  You creepy little lecherous jackass.  Why am I still fond of you?  It’s really rather galling that I enjoy your character at all, but I doooo.  Thank gods he has the beard now; cleanshaven was just wigging me out.  “Vickie’s never shot before--”  “That is the second-to-last time you will ever call me that.”  And I chortle myself to distraction to the point that I have to rewind to catch the lines that I missed.  With her horrible plans when she gets drunk (I’m still cringing at that flashback of her with Travis) and her obvious thing for older men, I’m honestly kind of surprised she didn’t end up having a deeply regretted something with Omar at some point.  They do have good chemistry in an antagonistic way.  And he does so enjoy tugging her pigtails.  ...ew.  Why is my brain like this?  

“A little bit of practice, even a girl can make that shot.”  Aaaaaaand we’re back to kick him in the nuts.  Not that we ever really left there.  Such a butthead.

Boy oh boy, it sure is great the tone that all these shitty rich white people take saying “Indian.”

“That is what a normal person would do in your situation.”  Henryyyyyy, I love you so much.  Why can’t we spend more time with him in the early seasons?  Why are you drinking a Rainier?  Nooooo, please have better taste in beer than your boyfriend!  You have expensive tastes in bourbon, why can’t you have decent taste in beeeer?

Walt, what is the point of practicing darts when you are FIVE FEET from the board?  Seriously, you’re supposed to be like...  (a google later)  7 feet 9.25 inches away!  That’s...  That’s an oddly specific measurement.  Wtf.  No quickly apparent reason for that specific measure.  Resisting the pull of this particular rabbit hole to continue the ep.  

Aaaah, that’s right, this is still when Walt thinks that Henry may have killed the guy for him.  And BestDad Henry talked to Cady after the blow up about Branch, and he is a wonderful human being.  “It’s really none of your concern.”  Hoooooow dare you.  It is clearly a function of being bffs with that butthead that Henry just smiles (somewhat bitterly) at this instead of tripping him into the bar or shoving his head into the cigarette machine.  (Is that a cigarette machine?  Wtf is that thing with the yellow lit up portion towards the top? [14:05])  

“What a rich inner life you must lead.  From time to time, you should consider sharing some of it with the rest of us.”  The sass!  Swoon.  Henry.  Marry me.  

“I’ve got other problems.”  Buddy, you are other problems.

I wonder how many people/places Ruby just has on speed dial so that she can zoom through her list of “Where the hell is Walt now” to get in touch with him.

Aaaaand we’re back to Branch getting a bit big for his britches.  Whee.  Better fight about it like Big Boys.  Ffs.  “Go ahead.  Give me your best shot.”  ::Pat Benatar starts playing in the background::  Oh holy shit, I wish so damn much that I had any know-how about making vids.  I would be beyond amused by a spoofy hate vid of Walt and Branch being assholes to “Hit Me With Your Best Shot.”  Ooo, oo, or “Hit Me Baby One More Time!”  Aaaahahaha, these fucking losers and their fragile masculinity.  Get rekt.

Children.  Childreeeeen.  Stop it, or you can’t go to Timmy’s birthday party next week.

The irony of Vic being the one who is actually calling them on their shit and getting to do their damn jobs.  Well shit, they actually have a warrant this time.  Will wonders never cease.

Damn, Viho is smart.  Politically savy, pointing out the election coming up.  He’s got the wrong end of the stick this time, but the fact that he’s seen these angles and considered a bunch of things about the consequences already is telling about how smart he is.

Ruby is so pleased to see Henry.  She sounds tired (dealing with Walt and Branch and the sheer volume of bs that is accumulating in that office, no wonder) but still fond.  And the look she gives him.  I love her so much.  She puts up with so much.  And I love Henry continually calling Walt and the department on their shit and just being a dedicated activist for his community.

Fuck right off, Branch.  “Woah.  I know you’re Walt’s friend, Henry, but you don’t have any particular rights here.”  You are sliding into being a full on trashbag of a human being so fast, Brancheroo.  Reminding a young man of his rights and helping him avoid getting railroaded by your biased ass isn’t a bad thing, you rusty wingnut.

Ok, it might not be Glasses!Henry, but cowboy boots!Henry with the glow of righteousness upon him is also quite A Look.

Aaaaahahaha, for once Vic’s unholy yelling saves the day.  Being able to shout over a mass of raucous teens is usually reserved for teachers, camp counselors, and stage managers.  Looool and using detention as the threat.  And then jail.  Heeeh.

This is soooo weeeeeird: I’m starting to genuinely like Lizzie.  She just showed up and I remembered that it’s for dropping off that present, and then Vic is such a butt about it, and this poor lady is just trying to date a guy that she really likes and even gave him about 5 different outs that morning and he pointedly didn’t take any of them and dammit, Lizzie deserves better, too.  Fuck, Walt, you are such a disaster zone.  And Vic is a whole other disaster area that’s looking to, uhhhh, share a border.  Yike.

The present is definitely more Lizzie than it is Walt, with the wrapping and everything, but it’s still a sweet impulse.  AND THEN VIC, who told Walt how many times that he should call her?? gets all up in her business?  Poor Lizzie trying to figure out what the fuck this has to do with Vic or how it is even on the same planet as any of her business.  She does have some issues from her previous marriage, but she owns them.  And her BS meter is actually pretty finely tuned.  Sure picks up on Vic’s awkward boner for Walt in no time flat.  Not that it’s particularly well hidden, damn.

This kid is a rapist and a murderer and The Bad Guy, but at the same time, he is a high school kid, chances are he’s a minor, and Walt is talking to him alone in his office without any parent, much less a lawyer.  What the fuck.  

“Because Ayasha Roundstone told me so,” is a good line, solidly so.  And Walt’s all in The Righteous Hand of Justice mode or whatever, with the gravelly voice and standing over the kid, staring him down.  Effective.  (But where are that kid’s parents?)  Ah, that’s right, his dad is taking a shot at whatshisnoodle to make it look like he’s the killer.

Awww, Cady.  Honey, how long have you been waiting for you FailDad to show up?  Fuck.  Right.  This was how she found out that Martha was murdered.  He lies to her so much.  He manipulates her so much.  He passes all of this off on it being Martha’s wish, but he even acknowledges that Cady had a right to know and he chose not to tell her.  He denies Cady her own agency again and again.  He makes decisions for her without ever giving her a chance to choose for herself, and punishes her when she makes a choice that he doesn’t agree with.

It’s not “protecting” her from the pain.  “Protecting you from the pain,” is not a father’s job; it’s to teach their child how to manage it, help them live through it, and how to grow past it.  You’re damaging her.  Into the suuuuuuun, Walt!  Into the fucking SUN.

But fuuuuuuuuuuuck, her delivery of that same line, “Well, let me relieve you of that burden,” is sooo good.  You done fucked up, buster.  And you just keep fucking up.  I would say in new and exciting ways, but it’s generally in the SAME DAMN WAYS, dammit Walt.

This flashback is really difficult.  

They’re right about that technically being kidnapping, too.  Wyoming  § 6-2-201 specifically includes defining kidnapping as unlawfully confining another person, with the intent to “facilitate the commission of a felony; or Inflict bodily injury on or to terrorize the victim or another,” with unlawful confinement defined as “accomplished (i)  By force, threat or deception; or (ii)  Without the consent of a parent, guardian or other person responsible for the general supervision of an individual who is under the age of fourteen (14) or who is adjudicated incompetent.”  Meaning that not only could Walt charge Jake with the kidnapping of Rich, but also probably of Ayasha, since she was ruled an unreliable witness and would more than likely be legally considered a “mentally incompetent person” according to the states’ legal definitions.  

Not... that I have the Wyoming State Criminal Code downloaded on my computer.  >_> Certainly haven’t skimmed about 80% of it trying to figure out what charges would most make sense to be levied against Jacob at the end so that I don’t have to deal with him going in to a Federal prison on RICO charges.  <_<  Or what Cady probably should have been charged with after that mess with Tate and Catori.  Nnnnnnope.  Sure don’t, didn’t, haven’t. o_o

This is about the only time I can remember there being a legitimate reason for Walt not to have backup.  Since they’re off checking other locations.  Also, damn, that was some classic Old West quickdraw shit, Walt!  Noice!

“Why did you stop me?”  Because you have to testify, you little shit.  HE is not terribly bright.

Ooooooo, somehow I forgot that it was Branch who went to Jacob.  But that makes total sense; I can’t really see Jacob seeking Branch out, but once he walks himself into his office, Jacob will certainly play those new cards for all they’re worth.  Ooooooooo, and the Hotamétaneo’o headdress!  I’d forgotten about Branch seeing it, too!  Nice call back and foreshadowing to finish off S1!

“You will not find a chili cheeseburger of this caliber anywhere in Colorado.”  And now it’s 4:30 in the morning and I want a chili cheeseburger.  Thanks, babe.   Some daaaaaay, I will figure out which is my favourite Henry, but it is not this day, because godsdaaaaamn, the red checked shirt with that vessssst, is *chef kiss* a wonderful thing.   And the director knoooooows it = that pan down Henry’s back as he turns after saying, “I said nothing,” for noooo reason other than to have Henry’s ass on screen.  Seriously.  He says his line, it pans down, we get a primo shot of his jeans, and then it cuts away.  Solely a pan for Henry Butt.  Who directed this, and where do I send the fruit basket?  Dang, it was Nelson McCormick, and this was the only ep of Longmire he directed.  Huh.  In S1, there’s only one repeat director, who did eps 1, 3, and 7.  Interesting.

Focus, kid.  You are less than 3 minutes from the end and you’ve had it paused for over 5 minutes to wander around IMDb.  No wonder it takes you three flipping hours to watch one of these episodes.  What a mess, indeed.

“We all process grief in our own way.”  Buddy.  You have not processed.  You are a human <BUFFERING> screen.  You’re a walking loading symbol.  Walt, he gives you some basic vital statistics on the guy, but...  You haven’t even asked who it was.  Walt, you are so bad at this.  Fffffffff---  And there’s season 1.  lawd.

[raendown]

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 4126 Chapter: 42/42 Summary: Not all wars are fought on the battlefield. Some are fought at the conference table, with whispers in the shadows, or even in the bedroom.

In a world where the Senju and Uchiha traditional lands were too far apart to have ever made them enemies, Butsuma and Tajima are the ones who come together and sign a treaty of peace. Madara isn’t happy to have his life signed away for him in a political marriage to strengthen the bond between their clans. He is even less happy to have Tobirama make assumptions of him from their very first night together. What follows from there is a journey of healing, of learning, and finding the places to belong in the places least expected.

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Chapter 41

Opening the door with several cardboard boxes in his hands was made twice as difficult by the stupidly complicated seals protecting it. Why Tajima had been so paranoid when his possessions weren’t any fancier than anyone else’s was beyond him but Madara was mostly disappointed in himself for forgetting to ask Tobirama’s help disabling these stupid wards. Stomping in and out a hundred times would be so much easier if he didn’t have to unlock the seals every time. 

“Would you get out of the way, brat?” Susumu’s voice was the first to greet him once he finally managed to struggle his way inside, though thankfully she didn’t seem to be talking to him. For once.

“I’m not in the way!” Kagami’s voice shot back. “You’re making a mess, baa-chan!” 

“Oh shush your face. Sometimes you have to make a mess to clean a mess.” 

“That doesn’t make any sense!” 

Madara paused in the genkan to shake snow out of his hair and gave some thought to leaving his boots on. It wouldn’t matter if the floors got dirty, after all, and they would all need a good scrubbing before the house was sold anyway. After a moment of thought he kicked them off anyway. If he left them on he just knew that he would inevitably kneel down and sit back on his own heels without thinking, soaking dirt and snow in to his backside. None of the people here were in any way above mocking him for doing so. It was much safer for his temper to simply avoid embarrassing himself as much as possible. 

Rounding the corner brought him in to the middle of chaos. That was the only word to describe what had once been a very neat and orderly living room that now looked as though a localized tornado had come through. Which, Madara thought with a snort, could be a fairly apt description of Susumu-sensei. His teacher stood in the center of the madness with one hand on her hip and the other pointing imperiously from side to side as she directed a grumbling Kagami to pack which items in which box. 

When she spotted her old student in the doorway her eyes gleamed and Madara was quick to start walking again. 

“Coward!” she hollered after him. He stopped and turned back to stick his tongue out at her and then spun to hustle down the hall at double speed. 

Izuna sat on the floor of their father’s bedroom when he entered, clothing and personal items all gathered in to organized piles here and there. His expression was somber as he stared down at the pendant dangling from a chain held in one hand. Dull silver did its best to catch the light as it spun, dusty and old yet no less precious than it had been when it was brand new. 

“Do you remember this?” he asked without turning. Madara set his boxes down and sighed. 

“Of course. Mother’s necklace; she wore it every day.” 

“It’s almost strange that he kept it.” Bringing his other hand up, Izuna caught the pendant to trace the simple twisting shape with his thumb. “He was so empty when we lost her. I mean, I get it, that’s what the Sharingan can do to us. He broke because he loved her so much. But when he did it was like he forgot how to love anything, even her memory, so it’s strange to know that he kept mementos like this. Do you think he just forgot it was here?”

Madara shrugged as he settled on the edge of the mattress just beside his brother’s shoulder. “Can’t say. After he shut us out I didn’t exactly spend a lot of time with him.”

“I miss him. The old him.” His brother heaved a sigh that carried years of emotion. Then he easily leaned in to the touch when Madara reached down to stroke the top of his head, no other words needed to convey the understanding they shared. 

“He was a good father until he wasn’t,” Madara said. 

Nodding carefully so as not to displace the hand comforting him, Izuna grunted. “Even if I won’t miss the way he became it’s still really weird knowing he’s gone. I might not have been close to him anymore but he’s been a constant for my entire life. Almost two decades of having him over my shoulder; now I’m drifting on my own and it’s…a little sad, in a way. A little scary.” 

“I suppose I can understand that, although I don’t know if I feel quite the same way. Sensei has been there for me a lot more than father was even before we lost him to the emptiness. It’s a shame you were never as close to her as I am.”

“She wasn’t my teacher.” 

“True, still a shame though.” Madara stroked his hair again. “Maybe it wouldn’t feel as though you’d lost the last of your family.”

Reaching up to capture the hand on his head, Izuna wove their fingers together for a quick squeeze. “I still have you, Aniki. I know that I’m not entirely alone. Packing up all of his stuff just has me in a bit of a maudlin mood.” 

“Understandable. Just don’t start weeping on anything, alright? We can’t sell it off if it’s all ruined by water damage.” It took quick movements to free his hands and dodge off the mattress before Izuna could smack him for that. Madara was happy to see an exasperated smile blossoming on his brother’s face even if it was accompanied by rolling eyes.

He was already halfway to the door and reaching for the boxes he’d carried in when the other blew a raspberry in his direction. 

“Go on! I don’t have time for you if you’re going to be like that!” 

Clearly he didn’t mean it but Madara hadn’t planned to stick around in there for much longer anyway. He had his own share of the sorting to do and lounging around with the others who had promised to help him would get none of it done. 

Well, not entirely true. Their share would get done. Really the consequence he was worried about was the many horrors any of them might come up with if they realized that he hadn’t done his share. Spurred on by his own rather dark imagination, he wasted no time stepping in to what appeared to have been his father’s home office. Or so he assumed from the presence of a desk against one wall even if the thickness of dust everywhere indicated this might not exactly be the most frequently used room in the house. Much as he would have liked to disparage the man as lazy Madara knew it was because Tajima had a habit of spreading his work over the kitchen table so he could work while he cooked and ate or even look over some of it in passing while he cleaned. 

Lacking any better place to start, Madara first wandered along the bookshelves and took in the titles to see if they needed any organization before being packed away. He was utterly unsurprised to see they had already been immaculately separated in to categories. That made it easier to simply drag one of the boxes over and begin emptying them all in, packing the rows as tightly as he could until he remembered that he was the one who would need to carry this all out later. Nothing would be more embarrassing than having to add a little chakra just to get one little box off the ground. 

Some of the books he set aside in another pile and left the boxes he filled unsealed until Tobirama could look through it all to see if he was interested in adopting any of them. No sense in letting knowledge go to waste. Not to mention that he was probably one of very few who could make sense of them. Why Tajima had been keeping books on advanced fūinjutsu theory when he barely understood the basics was probably a question none of them wanted the answer to. 

Once the bookshelves were emptied Madara turned towards the desk with a sigh. He could only guess what sort of idiocy had been gathering dust within those drawers and with the rising prevalence of storage scrolls it was impossible to say how much junk he would actually need to sift through. Staring at the desk wasn’t getting anything done, however, so with dragging steps he went over to push the chair out of his way and sat down on the floor, pulling the bottom drawer open. To his surprised delight there wasn’t much inside, a few folders containing papers relevant to clan business and a few to-do lists that seemed to be from the past spring when they all emigrated here. It was hard to believe that it had already been three quarters of a year since these lists were needed - and just as hard to believe that it had only been three quarters of a year.

Although lately it seemed like there was nothing else on his mind, Madara couldn’t help but think of all the things that had changed since Konoha was first settled. Barely a year ago he had shared a bedroom wall with his last surviving brother, tapping messages to each other in the dark of night when dreams woke them both. Like a wayward child he had spent his last few months as a single man roaming the forests around their territory with a perpetual pout as he bemoaned cruel fate for imposing an unwanted husband upon him. His duties had been no more than daily chores and a few administrative things his father didn’t care to do himself, dreams of love at first sight still dancing in the back of his mind, everlasting and easy as a summer smile. 

How naïve he had been. 

Now his days were filled from morning till night with duties for both clan and village, decisions and tasks to help lead the way to a brighter tomorrow, a future where children like Kagami could flourish without fearing for their lives on an early battlefield. Where even the adults slept safely without jolting awake at night and wondering if that was the sound of the wind or if their homes were being invaded by rival clans. 

Sliding the first drawer shut with a quiet snap, Madara took a deep breath. It was nice to look back at all that was but he had always preferred to look forward instead. As one of two chief advisors to their new Hokage he hoped he could encourage at least a few people to do the same. 

When he opened the second drawer his first reaction was to let the air back out of his lungs in a great exasperated rush. His worst fears seemed to have been realized; it was full of storage scrolls. The only silver lining was that they all appeared to be labelled with the contents so it was easy to put them in to piles as he pulled the whole lot out one by one. Some looked to be more administrative papers. One label made him cringe as he suspected it contained the entirety of the old filing cabinet that used to sit in his father’s office at the old compound. 

It was the final scroll at the very bottom which gave him pause. Surrounded by piles of varying sizes, Madara reached in to the drawer and paused to see something unexpected labelling the end of this last one. His own name. His brows furrowed and he traced his fingers from one end to the other as he tried to think of what might be inside. His name could mean many things. Not all of them were good. After a minute or so of contemplation he took the scroll in a careful grip and hefted it as though the weight might belie its contents, a myth he’d already had disproved while he learned to draw this seal for himself. 

Of all the many things he might have expected to appear when he opened the parchment across his lap to carefully apply a bit of chakra, letters did not even appear on the list. Yet that was exactly what he got, an entire stack of letters that wobbled and toppled immediately in to a messy pile between his folded legs. Each was written on identical parchment, penned with identical ink, similar formats though they were all of varying lengths. Two things stood out to him immediately. 

First that these had all been written in a very familiar hand, though the neatly printed dates in the top right hand corners were all from before he and this person had even met. 

Secondly that another familiar hand had busily scrawled an endless series of notes in the margins of every letter in a different color ink. Madara could remember his lessons as a young boy, writing papers to show how his vocabulary and literacy had grown, receiving them back from his father with blue ink in the margins noting all the places he could still improve or small thoughts on his turn of phrase. Now here it was again and Madara could hardly believe his eyes. 

‘Not even their natures match, can they truly be happy?’ Tajima had written beside an inquiry in to whether any members of their clan were born with an affinity for water. 

‘Madara knows nothing of such things’ had been scrawled in next to a rambling paragraph about sealing techniques, followed just below with ‘The clan could benefit from this knowledge’.

Another letter from a different day included carefully worded questions, the first tentative steps of a man getting to know his prospective spouse. Tajima had written in the answers with notes to remind himself to word them in Madara's turn of phrase. But what truly stole the breath from Madara's chest now was the final paragraph in which the original author had made his hopes known for a happy marriage and the lines deeply scored in to the parchment where Tajima had circled these words and written ‘Our futures depend on it’. 

If he were honest Madara had all but forgotten the underlying reason behind their initial difficulties. Now he sifted through the letters that Tobirama had written to him before they ever met, reaching out with honest intentions, ignorant of the fact that none of the replies had been penned by the one he was writing too, and fell in love all over again. His questions were earnest, his heart already open. And from the notes in blue ink Madara could imagine that Tajima had taken some creative liberties with his responses in an effort to make him sound more receptive to the idea than he had actually been.

Not to sabotage them deliberately, he realized at last, but to give them the chance that he had been so adamantly against at the time. To draw Tobirama in and allow him to see the person Madara was, something which Madara could now willingly admit he would not have allowed. He had gone in to their marriage with his hackles up and on their own it would have taken months upon months for him to allow the other man in enough to know even the simplest things about him. Of course, Tajima had unintentionally caused a similar situation anyway but his interference had already laid the groundwork for things to eventually work out in the end. It wasn’t enough for Madara to forgive him his meddling, it didn’t make it okay, but it was good to finally have an explanation for things that had hurt him even if he had long gotten over such injuries.

It was good to know that, even while his father felt empty and cold in the wake of his beloved wife’s death, there was room in him to try. Perhaps not to care as he once had but to reach towards humanity with intentions that might be perceived as compassionate in his own broken way. 

Dropping the letters back in to his lap, Madara lifted his chin to look around at the dusty unused office. He had watched his father change in strange ways since coming to Konoha but until this moment he’d never been able to come up with a plausible explanation for why. How could such a proud and intelligent man make so many idiotic mistakes? Now he wondered if perhaps Tajima hadn’t simply grown tired of life. After paving the way for a better future, then turning his eyes back towards the past. It sounded just like him to find a way to go out in a blaze of glory, to go to his final rest where he could be with his beloved and take with him the last obstacle between tyranny and true peace – Butsuma. 

Of course, with the both of them dead no one would ever know for sure. It was only a theory and it didn’t matter much in the long run besides loosening the knots in Madara's chest ever so slightly. His feelings had been complicated ever since they lowered Tajima’s body in to the ground but it felt strangely easier to mourn him now. 

Packing up the rest of the office was a task he completed with his head almost entirely lost in the clouds. One moment there was hours of work left ahead and the next he was standing in the middle of the room with piles of cardboard around him, empty shelves yawning along each wall as though hungry to be filled again. Izuna’s chakra had moved in to another part of the house but Susumu and Kagami remained in the front room, joined now by another. After glancing around at the work he’d apparently done Madara left the room and drifted naturally towards the one who had just arrived. 

He expected to find Tobirama shaking his finger at the other two with a lecture on how to be more productive. It was a shock to instead find Tobirama flat out on his back pretending to squirm while Kagami held him down and declared himself the new Hokage for defeating his sensei, an incorrigible Susumu cheering them both on from the sides. With her head thrown back and one hand clutching her belly in laughter it was hard to remember the last time he'd seen her look so jolly, a sight that filled Madara’s chest with warmth in a way he didn’t expect to hit him quite so hard. Pausing in the doorway, heart in his throat, he watched the three of them interacting as though they had always been a family and thought to himself that he could never imagine anywhere he would rather be.

Surely there could be no other alternate universe where he was happier. 

“Come on, you’re not giving any effort!” Susumu called. “Defend yourself oh mighty Hokage!”

“I can’t, he’s too strong.” Tobirama made an exaggerated show of trying and failing to push away the arms holding him to the floor. Kagami giggled and flopped bodily down over his teacher’s chest. 

“You can’t move! I win! I’ll keep you trapped here forever!” 

“But how will I eat?”

Kagami’s face was a masterpiece of surprise as he appeared to realize this very serious issue. If the two of them were busily locked in a battle of wills for the rest of forever how were either of them going to fill their tummies? The distraction was enough that Tobirama was able to pounce, rolling up in to a sitting position to throw the boy over his shoulder and follow the motion through to stand up fully, grinning openly while Kagami’s squeals filled the room.

“How the tables have turned,” he rumbled.

“Sensei! Put me down!” 

“Oh? You can dish it out but you can’t take it?” Tobirama feigned an expression of surprise for Susumu, who only laughed harder and still offered no help to either side. 

As he watched from the doorway Madara was glad of the chance to wipe at his eyes unseen. He would never hear the end of it if any of these idiots saw him misting over just from happiness; it would be the single most embarrassing moment of his life. Clearly he had earned mercy from one god or another since Izuna didn’t magically appear from nowhere to point and laugh. After a quick check to make sure his brother was still settled with no obvious signs of popping out from wherever he had squirrelled himself away, Madara drew in a slow breath and stepped forward. 

With all the furniture moved around to clear the center of each room they had created almost an extension of the hallway leading from himself to his loved ones. Keeping his eyes locked on Tobirama, tracing the shape of that gorgeous smile, he couldn’t help but compare this moment to the moment when they first met. 

The walk down this aisle looked infinitely less terrifying than that day. Where before he had seen nothing but a gaping chasm of the unknown he saw now the man he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. On the day they met they had stood together at the altar and known nothing but each other’s faces. The man he saw here was nothing like he could have ever predicted, nothing like the horrific things he had laid awake worrying himself with imagining. When Madara reached the top of this aisle it was to be greeted with such a gentle look in his husband’s eyes that for a moment he had no words. 

“I came to help,” Tobirama murmured, blithely ignoring Kagami’s tiny fists where they beat against his lower back. 

“Looks like you’re doing a wonderful job.” 

Susumu-sensei let out one final bark of amusement and propped both hands on her hips. “He’s helping me work some energy out of this little half-baked tartlet. Have you come to ruin our fun, little one? Crack the whip and get us back to work?”

“Not at all,” Madara denied innocently. “I only wanted to suggest that if Tobirama holds him low enough he would be at just the right height for you to ruffle his hair.” 

Kagami screeched with betrayal and shouted for them all to leave his curls alone. They ignored him, of course. Instead Tobirama bent his knees until the boy was just low enough for a good ruffling and grinned openly at Madara as he held the squirming legs in place with an iron grip. 

Seeing him so happy and carefree had Madara's stomach flipping over itself in the best possible way. Eight months ago he would never have been comfortable expressing even mild amusement around any of them let alone smiling so widely. It was a testament to how well he had accepted this family as his own, a mark of how content he was in this life they had all built together.

It was everything he had ever wanted.

By some miracle he managed not to burst out in to a great sobbing mess of disgusting happiness but was somehow able to hold himself at bay and wait patiently until at last Tobirama had the mercy to set Kagami back down. The tightness in Madara's chest was not helped at all when the little mite immediately threw both arms around his teacher’s waist to beam up at him happily as though he had enjoyed the last several minutes of torture. When he let go he turned to shake a finger at Susumu and tell her off for attacking him so deviously, giving Madara the opening he needed to beckon his partner over. Tobirama slid in to his arms like a puzzle piece slotting in to place. 

“Good afternoon, anata.”

“Hm, surprisingly it has been, yes. I thought this would be quite a dour affair but there’s been…a few surprises that kept me in high spirits.” Madara tossed the idea back and forth of revealing what he’d found in the office. Then Tobirama smiled down at him and he decided to leave it be. Things were fine as they were.  

“By any chance was I one of those surprises?” His husband asked with a cheeky grin.

Surrounded with warm and happy chakra, held tightly in the arms that kept him safe from the pains of the world, and so in love that he could hardly stand himself, Madara could do nothing more than smile back and shake his head very slowly. 

“From the moment I met you,” he murmured softly, “you have been the best and the greatest surprise of my life.” 

[shizuu-chann]

while i love anders (both awakening and da2) with my whole heart, i can see how many gross, shitty things he does (even if i personally dont count the chantry thing as one), and my.... dislike of cullen doesnt come from my love of anders. the reason im not fond of cullen is that, from what i know, he never had to face the consequences of his own words and actions. anders gets killed and vilified for what hes done, but cullen doesnt even get a smack on the head. it pains me

Thank you for this. I appreciate your perspective, and I apologize because this response got rather long... But I hope that doesn’t deter you from reading or responding, if you feel the need or desire. 

I just want to preface that despite my criticism, I do very much love Anders. Even in DA2, even though I see some questionable actions and choice of words/phrases, I love Anders. I appreciate his concern for mage rights, and overall I agree with them. I don’t necessarily care about the Chantry, but from a story point, there were better ways to handle that situation that were not destroying a public building and killing everyone inside, etc. I also know that you can take the plot and his changes and blame it on the fact that he merged with a spirit, and that perhaps that changed his personality, but (to me) it didn’t seem like that was really the case. His base opinions and personality seemed drastically changed at their core, and not in a way that could be explained by merging with a spirit. Does that make sense? I mean, take Wynne. She merged with a spirit, but she stayed herself and her personality wasn’t perverted. I dunno.

As for Cullen’s lack of consequences, I get that. It makes sense that people would want him to see some negative consequences for some of the shit he did, and it’s completely valid. I’m also not excusing what he did. What did he actually do, though? I’m genuinely asking, because I don’t know. We know he said he did some things that were unworthy of him, but we don’t ever hear what they were exactly. It’s kind of just a blanket statement of “I admit I treated mages poorly, sometimes without cause,” but then he goes on to say, again, that this was unworthy of him and he’s updated his stances. I truly don’t mind if people hate Cullen, everyone has their own opinions, and a variety of opinions is what makes the world interesting (when those opinions aren’t actually morally terrible), but it seems like I never see anti-Cullen people in any way acknowledging that he is trying. (And when I have, they’re usually very cruel/harsh with that “people can’t/don’t change” opinion and discredit his efforts entirely.) But to my knowledge, you’re right: Cullen doesn’t face consequences for whatever terrible things he did before he left the Order and joined the Inquisition. 

Another separate, but relevant point, is Cullen has cause for his initial dislike/hatred of mages. It wasn’t a bias that he started his training as a Templar with, it was a well-earned fear that came from whatever psychological torture he suffered with the Circle fiasco. Now, that doesn’t give him the right to mistreat mages by any means, but it does give him the right to have emotions and have that fear. So, I guess my issue here is that people (not necessarily you) have no problem giving Anders the benefit of the doubt or forgiving his actions because of the societal/political/religious atmosphere of Kirkwall at the time, but they don’t extend that same courtesy to Cullen--who, while his personal traumas aren’t as big as the widespread abuse of mages in Thedas, does have his own reasons for the things he did that are valid to feel. They aren’t unimportant because they don’t affect the world at large. And he explains his change of heart and realizations, and acknowledges that he did some things he isn’t proud of and hopes his efforts with the Inquisition can atone for some of his crap.

I know this is all fictional, and none of this matters in the grand scheme of things, but it bothers me when people hate a character for actions/opinions that have understandable, if not excusable, explanations behind them. I’m not saying that everyone needs to like Cullen, but it would be nice to see more of that Cullen-critical content express that they see he is trying. It just seems that everyone has the idea that they need to take a black or white stance on everything, when most everything is a shade of grey. 

[incarnateirony]

Sorry but 'loving poly fantasy' is still disrespectful af. I'd be beyond uncomfortable if thousands of people online were writing stories, drawing art and writing metas about how I'm secretly fucking a colleague while my wife watches?? Also I've seen Cockles blogs which do a fair amount of stalking. It may be hands-off stalking, but it's still creepy.

Okay look, I can tell someone’s going to want to go into a tit for tat about Cockles vs J2 Tinhats and keep trying to draw false parallels.

Again, this is someone from the outside looking in and observing but

Cockles narrative has never:

- Made people invade their real space in private venues- Impeded on social, PR, or POLITICAL EVENTS- Given direct threats to the wellbeing of them or their families

Now again, I’ll agree. There’s some Cockles fans that have crossed some lines imo. As a data hub, I’ve been privy to some of that. But no matter if my skin crawled with certain data or not, all of that – ALL of it – pales in comparison with the simple offensive reality going on and what the J2 narrative inspires.

No matter if you feel squicky when you read someone giggling about a ring or an underbear, this is your personal line of comfort. At some point, my personal line of comfort has been crossed on a few times. Those details stayed in DM enclaves, even if I was uncomfortable with them existing at all, and *none* of them evoked any kind of direct engaging Problem™ like J2 narrative causes.

It’s… fine for you to not like RPS? I … honestly don’t either? But that doesn’t mean I’m going to try to draw equal guilt or parallel in their actions, dialogue, or consequences. 

What you, specifically, determine as lowkey stalking is likely very relevant

Are they

- Stalking the charter plane number- Publishing the address of their various properties- Trying to bebop establishments specifically hoping to run into them, suspecting them in an area- Hiding behind objects and creeping around corners to steal candid footage/because they’re unwelcome when seen. - Sending dangerous, or threatening gifts or packages to the families.- Staging giant events that they pose as having officiality in intrusive personal spaces and trying to shove their ship content at them without handlers. OR AT THEIR MAYOR.

Congratulations! This is actual stalking.

Not stalking

- Finding or discussing pictures used online- Taking pictures, casually, center stage, at events or venues it’s reasonable for fans to be at, officially set up, and sharing and discussing those pictures- Thinking a couple guys act adorbs

Again, I leave room for there being exceptions to the rules on these, but we’re talking *base pulse of the fandoms*. The inherent dialogue actually causes a psychological attachment where J2 dialogue presumes oneself the bringers of truth, finders of knowledge, and the only ones aware of defending what is Right And Good. Pairing that with “everyone around J2 are leeches” energizes them into feeling VINDICATED for their behavior.

The base. Dialogue. Of Cockles. Simply. Doesn’t. Cause. This.

It does *not* come with psychological association of being the only owners of truth and all resulting classic cult behaviors that somehow elevate them to equal knowing as J2 and above all other people actually in their lives. It literally is a narrative of unwellness.

I don’t care if you’re bigoted against poly people. Well I mean I care, because I hate bigotry, but I mean in regards to this discussion I absolutely do not give a shit if you find RPF horrific because some people paint them as happy and poly. Which, frankly, you’re projecting your offense all over and thinking Jensen would be *just as mad* that people giggle about the ring *he literally gave Misha* as he is to people *blackmailing his family and finding any excuse to break past handler lines*.

There is no universe in which these two things are remotely the same or even categorically dismissable in the same vat.

You don’t have to like Cockles, that’s… fine too. But trying to dredge it up by starting with “poly is gross like cooties” and then going on to eulogize that you don’t like RPS in general fails to actually address the reality and context of *WHY* we are talking about this right now.

[designingprogress]

Why George Orwell's Warning on 'Self-Censorship' Is More Relevant Than Ever

Just as George Orwell warned, governments don't have to be the censors for free speech and free expression to be fatally stifled. By Brad Polumbo Rule One: Speak your mind at your own peril. Rule Two: Never risk commissioning a story that goes against the narrative. Rule Three: Never believe an editor or publisher who urges you to go against the grain. Eventually, the publisher will cave to the mob, the editor will get fired or reassigned, and you’ll be hung out to dry.

The above is a quotation from George Orwell’s preface to Animal Farm, titled "The Freedom of the Press," where he discussed the chilling effect the Soviet Union’s influence had on global publishing and debate far beyond the reach of its official censorship laws.Wait, no it isn’t. The quote is actually an excerpt from the resignation letter of New York Times opinion editor and writer Bari Weiss, penned this week, where she blows the whistle on the hostility toward intellectual diversity that now reigns supreme at the country’s most prominent newspaper.A contrarian moderate but hardly right-wing in her politics, the journalist describes the outright harassment and cruelty she faced at the hands of her colleagues, to the point where she could no longer continue her work:

My own forays into Wrongthink have made me the subject of constant bullying by colleagues who disagree with my views. They have called me a Nazi and a racist; I have learned to brush off comments about how I’m ‘writing about the Jews again.’ Several colleagues perceived to be friendly with me were badgered by coworkers. My work and my character are openly demeaned on company-wide Slack channels where masthead editors regularly weigh in. There, some coworkers insist I need to be rooted out if this company is to be a truly ‘inclusive’ one, while others post ax emojis next to my name. Still other New York Times employees publicly smear me as a liar and a bigot on Twitter with no fear that harassing me will be met with appropriate action. They never are.

Weiss’s letter reminds us of the crucial warning Orwell made in his time: To preserve a free and open society, legal protections from government censorship, while crucial, are not nearly enough.

To see why, simply consider the fate that has met Weiss and so many others in recent memory who dared cross the modern thought police. Here are just a few of the countless examples of “cancel culture” in action:

— A museum curator in San Francisco resigned after facing a mob and petition for his removal simply because he stated that his museum would still collect art from white men. — A Palestinian immigrant and business owner had his lease canceled and restaurant boycotted after activists dug up his daughter’s old offensive social media posts from when she was a teenager. — A Hispanic construction worker was fired for making a supposedly “white supremacist” hand signal that for most people has always just meant “okay.” — A soccer player was pushed off the Los Angeles Galaxy roster because his wife posted something racist on Instagram. — The head opinion editor of the New York Times was fired and his colleague was demoted after they published an op-ed by a US senator arguing a widely held position and liberal colleagues claimed the words “put black lives in danger.’ — A random Boeing executive was recently mobbed and fired because he wrote an article 30 years ago arguing against having women serve in combat roles in the military. — A data analyst tweeted out the findings of a research paper (by a black scholar) about the ineffectiveness of protests and was fired after colleagues claimed their safety was threatened. — Led by progressives as prominent as New York Times columnist Paul Krugman, a woke mob tried to get a Chicago economist fired from his editorship of an economics journal for tweeting that embracing “Defund the Police” undercuts the Black Lives Matter movement’s chances of achieving real reform.

These are just a few examples of many. One important commonality to note is that none of these examples involve actual government censorship. Yet they still represent chilling crackdowns on free speech. As David French put it writing for The Dispatch, “Cruelty bullies employers into firing employees. Cruelty bullies employees into leaving even when they’re not fired. Cruelty raises the cost of speaking the truth as best you see it—until you find yourself choosing silence, mainly as a pain-avoidance mechanism.”

These recent observations echo what Orwell warned of decades ago:

Obviously it is not desirable that a government department should have any power of censorship... but the chief danger to freedom of thought and speech at this moment is not the direct interference of the [government] or any official body. If publishers and editors exert themselves to keep certain topics out of print, it is not because they are frightened of prosecution but because they are frightened of public opinion. In this country intellectual cowardice is the worst enemy a writer or journalist has to face, and that fact does not seem to me to have had the discussion it deserves.

Similarly, the British philosopher Bertrand Russell noted in a 1922 speech “It is clear that thought is not free if the professional of certain opinions makes it impossible to earn a living.”

Some might wonder why it’s really so important to protect speech and thought beyond the law. After all, if no one’s going to jail over it, how serious can the consequences really be?

While understandable as an impulse, this logic misses the point. Free and open speech is the only way a society can, through trial and error, get closer to the truth over time. It was abolitionist Frederick Douglas who described free speech as “the great moral renovator of society and government.” What he meant was that only the free flow of open speech can challenge existing orthodoxies and evolve society. From women’s suffrage to the civil rights movement, we never would have made so much progress on sexism and racism without the right to speak freely.

Silence enshrines the status quo. As John Stuart Mill put it:

If the opinion is right, they are deprived of the opportunity of exchanging error for truth: if wrong, they lose, what is almost as great a benefit, the clearer perception and livelier impression of truth, produced by its collision with error.

This great discovery process through free-flowing speech first and foremost requires a hands-off approach from the government, but it still cannot occur in a culture hostile to dissenting opinion and debate. When airing a differing view can get you mobbed or put your job in jeopardy, only society’s most powerful or those whose views align with the current orthodoxy will be able to speak openly without fear.

Orwell and Russell were right then, even if we’re only fully realizing it now. Self-censorship driven by culture, not government, erodes our collective discovery of truth all the same.

[captainofthetidesbreath]

Who's the Fjordest of Fjord's Orphanage Children?

A good question! And one that depends on how one measures it and what flaws, virtues, triumphs, struggles in Fjord one weighs more heavily than others.

I will say, many, many of the kids, particularly those who have been at the orphanage for a long time before Fjord took over, share a deep sense of worthlessness and taught shame about themselves. Many of them grew up in similar, if not outright the same, circumstances he did, under the same terrors, the same neglects, the same burdens. They all share that thread of commonality, for better or worse.

To talk specific kids, the four older orphans who accompany Fjord on what I’m calling the Teen Orphan Road Trip are all characters I’m writing and developing specifically to mirror some of Fjord’s virtues and flaws, and in a small part, his own personal struggle during the campaign. They are, at the moment:

Vhyrelle (air genasi) shares an impulsively inquisitive nature and a tendency toward indecision and uncertainty.

She cannot abide a mystery for very long, and she’ll put her nose and hands where it doesn’t belong if she believes it’ll get her answers sooner. She needs to know what is over there, what is this, what does it do, why is it here, how does it work. She often lets her need to satiate her curiosity as soon as possible overrule common sense and sometimes self-preservation, and much too often, she won’t think through the possible consequences of immediately indulging her curiosity. Snoop first, get answers now, deal with any untoward results later. She also shares his tendency toward indecisiveness and uncertainty. She’ll often use her penchant for information gathering as an excuse to put off committing to a course of action because she’s terrified to admit that she is unsure of herself and what she wants. Often, it’s a result of a choice or analysis paralysis: suddenly too much freedom in the course of her life, too much information to process at once.

Evai’lumir (half-elf) shares a supportive steadiness and an anxiety over living up to the image of a parent. 

He wishes to see everyone has a chance to express their opinion and will often actively seek out their voice in group settings to ensure that. Even-keeled, patient, steady, thoughtful, he happily looks to serve others as a sounding board, mediate their concerns and feelings, and help them feel included and listened to. Ever the team player, he prefers to prioritize the feelings and opinions of those closer to the matter over his own. While it often means he’s happy to take cues from the better informed, sometimes it means he dismisses what he has to say because he feels it of lesser relevance. He also shares the burden of trying to live up to a parent. He is one of exceedingly few in the orphanage who knows anything about one of his, his mother. But, he feels he’s not always as courageous, as daring, as stalwart, as steady, as iron-willed as she was in the stories he’s heard. He tries, at times desperately, but he often feels he is suffocating under his attempts.

Rhee (elf) shares a preference for the pragmatic and actionable and a tendency to fail to think through personal consequences.

She thinks in practical terms, preferring things immediately and directly applicable than the high-minded and abstract. She wants to understand how it applies to the situation at hand in concrete terms, to find something that can be acted upon, to dwell on the livable realities over the theoretical idea. She prefers to think of things in terms of how she can use them to help herself or others, in how they directly relate to what she’s doing. She isn’t one for the philosophizing about it; she’s concerned if it’s actionable, and whether that action can help or harm. She puts more weight in practical suggestions and places her faith in what proves itself with discernibly felt results. She also has a tendency to lack foresight in personal matters and often fails to properly think through the full consequences. Sometimes, she makes personal decisions as they come, without proper regard for what it may set in motion, and she rarely thinks about what she’s going to do beyond the next fifteen minutes.

Satine (tiefling) shares a silvered tongue and a terror of others seeing, and rejecting, what’s under the charismatic mask.

When it comes to resolving conflicts, she much prefers to talk her way out of it, and she possesses a natural social grace and easy observance of polite niceties that often lead to success. Even when she’s awkward and stumbles her way through a conversation, she can spin it to be endearing. She’s magnetic, charming, persuasive, if none of that works, her tongue is as sharp as it is honeyed, and she’s equally capable of being quietly menacing if that’s what it takes to keep conflict to a minimum. She’s more comfortable talking around the truth, if not outright lying, than she is being forthright, and that’s born of a fear that being her honest self is unappealing to others or will turn them away. She is terrified that others will discover that she isn’t as charming and likable as she prefers to present herself to be and that anything less than a perfect presentation of radiant confidence and inexhaustible charm will somehow count against her in the eyes of her friends.

The four of them also share a struggle, with each other and with Fjord, in finding faith in oneself, as they’re coming into and discovering themselves in the way that Fjord finally has a chance to during the campaign.

[norcumii]

For shits and giggles and I honestly couldn’t tell you why, I started listening to the Clone Wars movie commentary, by Filoni and...others?

Putting aside that at least 50% of it is some form of “ALL HAIL GEORGE,” which...yeah. Fine, whatever – there’s been an interesting thread I’m trying to chase down mentally. So, er, late night musings ahead.

They keep talking about how they tossed this line into the editing, or how George is all about tweaking the story in the editing room – and how that’s all about building the final vision. How in order to get a good laugh, in this bit the droid suddenly has the intellectual/philosophical context to ask “Whhhyyyy?” as its being tossed off a cliff to its doom and that was all added several editing rounds in.

And this has been bugging me. Not just because it’s cheap humor and might be good for a startled guffaw but not once one steps back and looks at the picture because ouch, that’s...pretty ugly. Also, this is COMPLETELY ignoring my instincts to snort and be bitchy about George Lucas’ ego and Marcia Lucas saving the OT in the editing room.  

See, my first instinct is to be cautiously approving of this approach. You write a fic, you edit, you edit some more, you get a beta and you tweak depending on their suggestions, and then you post. That’s what these people are talking about, right?

But if that were the case, then why do I spend so much time bitching about how Star Wars NEVER follows through on story lines, and they never spend a fraction of the time we do trying to figure out logistics and political folderol, and – there’s got to be something I’m missing.

I had to step back and look at my usual fonts of inspiration, Aaron Sorkin and Greg Weisman – the latter in particular given how he got tapped for Rebels.

Sorkin is a masterclass pantser. I have no idea what his process is, aside from procrastinating and getting quality scripts in JUUUUST under the wire (or often after that fact). Greg’s more a note-card, organizational type. Not much useful comparing those to what sounds like “George Lucas has An Idea, we try to execute it with our spin, and then Lucas comes in and has more suggestions. If all else fails we pull all-nighters and then wing it for George.”

They’ve mentioned cutting some things, and altering others, so it’s not just a matter of these people just add to things, whereas I know the other two have talked about cutting extraneous stuff a lot. So it’s not something vague about keep cutting the fat.

Something about that notion tweaked a thought, though. The Lucas approach here seems to be taking a storyline, then going in and brushing it up – and the focus seems to be on how to buff up moments. “We have a segment here, how do we give it more punch? Ok, add a joke. How do we buff up the next segment? Apply changes to that thing.” Add in the mantra they keep repeating in the commentary, about how it always has to be new, how for instance if you have a Rancor scene, it can’t just be a rehash or similar to the classic Return of the Jedi rancor scene, it has to have a new twist.

(….OH. And a belated realization that this is one of the things they DIDN’T do for the sequel trilogy, as compared to the prequels! Episode 7 was a rehash, but there wasn’t enough new angles, whereas the prequels were taking the same structure but putting in new scenarios. Maybe? Something for me to chew on later.)

Anyway. What all this does is take a storyline, and focus on those moments.

That DOESN’T look to the greater plot.

Greg approaches a season as a storyline. He has his tiers and tentpost episodes, but it all builds along an arc. Sorkin also has season long plots and themes.

Consequences. The Clone Wars never deals with consequences. They’re so busy punching up a scene they never look to what precedes or follows it, so there’s never any fall out for things other than in a broad, hand-wavy way –

oooooh.

They got so caught up in the theory about this week’s adventure in the Flash Gordon-esque production that they never looked to the overall plot. Like how in soap operas characters would get horrible diseases, need to get organs removed (multiple times) and the like – it’s so tied up in Teh Drama of the moment that there’s never someone going around saying “yeah, uh, this character used to have a kid we might want to remember that.”

So while there’s attempts to show Anakin being disillusioned with the Jedi – see the entire Rako fiasco – there never feels like any actual BUILD there, just moments of “why would you DO that you beTRAYed me Obi-Wan!” without the context we the fans labor so hard to structure. Sure, we can see how Obi-Wan reacts in the few seconds of screentime at the beginning of that arc – hunched over in the Council chamber, with the body language of someone who’s been browbeaten and argued into a fucked up and patently absurd scheme – but we never get more than hints that this is something he never wanted to do.

And then it never gets mentioned again. We can build consequences beyond “and then one day Anakin Falls and becomes Vader!” – I wholeheartedly believe that Rex (one of the most identifiable clones out there) wore Jaig eyes on the Onderon mission entirely as a message to SOMEONE about how he might have to be clandestine, but he’s not about to abandon his identity – but it’s all speculation and personal perspectives.

All the long term consequences are drowned out in the minutia of the moment. Filoni mentioned early on about how the clones check their wounded and call for medics to drive home that these are people, not cannon fodder – while unironically using them as cannon fodder. The only times they’re not used that way is when the deaths are furthering someone’s – usually Rex’s – particular storyline. The bit about a clone calling for a medic is great for a moment, but the followthrough is never pursued unless a different moment might be richer for it and someone on staff happens to remember.

It occurred to me that this is also part of my problems with Avatar the Last Airbender. Look, I’m fascinated by the meta worldbuilding, and some of the themes, but when there’s regular breaks in the dramatic tension by yet another snot joke, I do not have patience for it. I don’t like storytelling that feels the need to step back and jam in humor on the regular every [X] minutes because otherwise executives are worried that the kids will stop caring. And maybe that’s not what’s going on, but if it rubs me that way I’m disinclined to sit through hours and fucking hours of it without an enthusiastic guide.

However, that does explain Lucasfilms’ obsession with Filoni. He seems to thrive on that sort of storybuilding. Take a segment. See how to punch it up. Move on to the next segment.

This, right here, IS one of my problems with Rebels, that was so painful but intermittent through season one. It’s even worse in later seasons – none of which Greg worked on, which. Yeah. Fuck, I am going to have to do that watch through at some point. I mean, throughout Rebels, I could see the worldbuilding and structure, but then it’d get yanked off into left field by this week’s inane gag or absurdist moment or random ass THING they need to cover because oh yeah, they’re trying for an overarching plot and should probably include the thing before it’s immediately relevant.

Back to Clone Wars. I think the problem was too much inspection of segments, and people didn’t often step back and say “where is this storyline going?” Getting too caught up in the moment to check if the scene or gag moved the overall plot and themes along. They got so concerned about doing everything with a fresh new twist they never came back to points, never raised up old elements to say “look how far we’ve come” or “here is how that thing affected people and the plot.”

It’s funny, how something with so much scope can get hamstrung by all the fiddly little details.

[rasoir-national]

Welcome to Immigration law, where words have no meaning : a case study

While working on cases, I stumbled across yet another fun example of the way political pressure has rendered legal principles meaningless in Immigration law, to the point that judges have to go against the very words of the law they’re supposed to be applying.

If you need a refresher of what’s broadly wrong with immigration law in France, presumably because you hate yourself, you can hop over here.

Anyway, let’s talk about Refugee family reunification.

What is Refugee law ? Well, in the 19th Century... just kidding, we’re not doing that here. I mean, we’re absolutely doing that here someday, but not right now. If you’re unclear on what a refugee is, here’s the broad idea : if a person from a certain country finds themself in a situation where their life is in danger in that country, either because the authorities can’t/won’t protect them or because those authorities are the ones threatening them, then they can enter another country and ask for that country’s protection. If they can jump through all the hoops and get their request approved - and all I have to say about this at the moment is that it’s a goddamn miracle every time it happens- then they are recognized as refugees : they will be allowed to stay in that country for a consequential period of time, have civil rights almost similar to a citizen, and generally be taken care of.

Now as I said, when you get recognized as a refugee, it means you’re set to stay in the country that took you in for about 10 years, that can be renewed if the situation didn’t get better in your country of origin. Something would have to go massively wrong for you to lose that status before then. That’s time during which you are legally forbidden to go back to your country of origin, since the very point of getting the status is that it was critically unsafe for you to stay there. 10 years, that’s a good chunk of life. So it stands to reason that you should be able to have your family with you during that time. See, asylum seekers sometimes come as a family, but more often than not, only one person makes the trip and tries to get the status, then puts in a request for the rest of their family : the trip is extremely expensive and dangerous. Still, not only is it coherent to allow the refugee’s family to come as well - if they were in danger, their family most likely was too - it’s a human right : you have the right to have a private life, and therefore to be with your family wherever you are. So there’s a special procedure for refugees to get their family to rejoin them without having to go through a painful and most likely illegal trip : if the request is approved, they will get a visa, and then they can come to France simply by making the trip on commercial lines without being detained at the airport/train station and forbidden to enter the country.

But, of course, it’s not that simple.

One of the main principles of immigration law is, if there’s a risk, any risk at all, that an element of the system might be exploited by a few individuals to cheat its principles, then the entire system must be warped to avoid any possible fraud.

Let’s apply that principle to family reunification. See, one big fear of lawmakers is that people will use that system to create the dreaded “chain migration”, i.e get more people in the country that the system means for them to. What does that mean in practice ? Well, the people allowed to join a refugee are meant to be only the close family : the spouse, the minor children, maybe the parents in some cases. So the fear is that some refugees will present some people as being related to them, or more closely related to them than they are, in order to get them admitted. So we must make sure that the people presented as their spouse, their child, is indeed who they pretend to be.

Now let’s break this down to its core : because some people may undeservedly profit from a legal system - and some people always will, let’s not be afraid to admit that - then every single individual who wishes to benefit from that system must pay the price of that risk. Principles will be inverted. Assumptions will be flipped on their head. And make no mistake : that’s not the fault of the fraudsters. Yes, it’s “wrong” to exploit a system in a way it wasn’t meant to be exploited - that being said, i struggle to see how immigrants trying to get more people they know to safety despite them not being family is a bad thing - but there is NO REASON, NONE AT ALL, that the price for that state of affairs should end up on the asylum seekers and not on the government. If they government is that afraid of the “wrong” people coming in, then it should be on them to prove that there’s fraud in a particular case. It’s just logical.

But of course, that’s not how it works.

How do you prove someone is related to you ? If you live in a “developed” country, it must seem quite easy : you’ve got your marriage certificate, your birth certificate, your official papers... And even if you don’t have them, all you have to do is go to city hall and get new ones.

Now imagine you have all that, but you’re in a country that’s not your own. All those documents are legally worthless : the State has no reason to recognize documents from another country. But of course, it would leave you with literally nothing to prove your identity. So the way it works is while those documents don’t officially have the same value as they do in the country that delivered them, it should still be taken for granted that they are genuine, until there is proof to the contrary.

In France, that notion is enshrined in the civil code in its article 47 :

“ Tout acte de l'état civil des Français et des étrangers fait en pays étranger et rédigé dans les formes usitées dans ce pays fait foi, sauf si d'autres actes ou pièces détenus, des données extérieures ou des éléments tirés de l'acte lui-même établissent, le cas échéant après toutes vérifications utiles, que cet acte est irrégulier, falsifié ou que les faits qui y sont déclarés ne correspondent pas à la réalité.”

What this means in english is that if the document respects the formal presentation of the country that is supposed to have delivered it, and there’s nothing in the other documents or in the document itself that could hint at a forgery, then the document is regarded as authentic.

This principle is logical and straightforward : the civil statute from another country is assumed to be genuine, until there is proof of the contrary. That’s the legal concept of presumption in action right here : let the party whose claim would be the easiest to prove to have to bring that proof rather than the contrary : it’s much easier to prove a document is a fake than to prove it is authentic. An absence of fraud cannot be proven.

But that’s not the kind of eternal logical rule that can stop lawmakers. So let’s talk about the Central African Republic.

A beautiful country - I assume - the Central African Republic has had the misfortune of being in an off-and-on state of civil war since the beginning of the 2000s, with two powerful militias, the Séléka and the anti-Balaka, fighting for power on a background of religious conflict. I am not at all qualified to say more on the subject, but if it interests you - and it should - don’t hesitate to check primary sources. But here’s the part that’s relevant to my point : one of the consequences of this prolonged conflict is the utter disorganization of the administrative system, and particularly the impossibility to access civil registry services. Central African law requires you to register a birth right away in the circonscription in which the child was born - that is of course a problem if you’ve had to move because of the conflict, and that particular zone is inaccessible due to combats. On top of that, the vast majority of civil services are not equipped with computers, meaning many documents have been lost/inaccessible for the last 20 years. The result is that there are many, many children in the Central African Republic who have not been properly registered and therefore have no legal existence and no proof of their lineage.

The CAR government is currently trying to remediate this situation with the help of NGOs. See, if you weren’t registered as a newborn, then there’s need of a judicial decision for you to be registered as a child or a teen. One of the most notable solutions has been to create mobile courts who go from village to village and hold public sessions to get as many people as possible the right decision so they can ask to be registered, but there’s still a long way to go, and the system is far from back to normal functioning.

Now because french is spoken by most of the population of the CAR, and France has historical *coughs*colonial*coughs* ties to the country, many people who have fled the country have seeked asylum in France. And for those who got it, they asked, as was their right, for their family to be able to join them.

Do you see the problem looming on the horizon ? Oh yes, you do.

The children of refugees who remained in CAR were born in the last twenty years, and therefore many of them were not properly registered and have no direct way of proving their relation to the refugee.

But here comes the really perverted part : in order to get the request accepted, the families of refugees in CAR have rushed to register the children so they would have proof to present to the french authorities (in CAR’s case, the French Consulate in Bangui). They travel to their village of birth, they try to get to a mobile court, they put in the legwork.

And what does the consul say when they get those preciously obtained documents ? Well, they say that since it’s so rare for children born in that period to have the proper documents... Then those must be fake. Yeah. Let me remind you, by law, those documents should be presumed to be authentic. But because the context dictates that central african children are more likely not to have documents, those who do become suspect. The administration will cling to the tiniest mistake to claim “evidence of forgery” : technically, if you get the judicial decision allowing the registration, then you have to wait six months for your identity to be added to the family registry. But of course, because of the massive under-registration and the mobile courts system, the administration rather ignores that mandatory delay in order to get people a legal identity as soon as possible. But that’s apparently too outlandish an idea for the french administration to understand. No, everything in CAR must work exactly how the law dictates, except of course for the fact that the country is apparently so fucked up that the simple fact of having the proper papers indicates you’ve broken the law. I know a lot of paradoxes, but this is by far the most vicious I’ve ever met. This is no-win situation. How on earth can you prove documents are genuine when you having those documents is seen as evidence that they are fake ?

And that’s exactly the kind of shit I’ve been talking about. : in immigration law, there’s no reason words shouldn’t mean their opposite if it fits the political agenda. Immigration authorities are only pragmatic when it suits them. As a result, the day-to-day practice of immigration law is getting increasingly disconnected from what that law is supposed to be, until principles don’t exist anymore, and basic legal ideas are completely ignored. There’s always going to be a gap between a law and its application ; but this isn’t about being down to earth, this is ignoring the very principles you should be enforcing.

[boleynns]

“For the Throne” Album - potential clues to S8

I somehow just noticed that the entire “Inspired by Game of Thrones” album was released (they had only release the first 3 songs when I checked about 2 weeks ago), and I listened to the entire thing while taking notes. TLDR take-away: strong evidence that artists were given plot-points for S8, strong evidence of a betrayal for love, lots of fire, and (I think) major arrows towards Danni’s journey for the rest of the show.

Disclaimer: confirmation bias exists, and I love the idea of Danni burning down King’s Landing, so I can’t help but read into that. If the idea of that plot point bothers you, this might not be the lyric analysis you want to read!

Kingdom of One by Maren Morris

This was one of the ones released after (I think…) ep. 1, though it does have some hints to future events.

“First light, sacrifice” (Melisandre dying)

“Bird’s eye, saw the signs” (Bran)

“All you can give, all you can bear, all that you longed for, nothing compares, but nothing is sacred, no one is safe, so you wanna play God? Is that all you got? Would you sell your soul, burn it all, everything that you love, finally become second to none in a kingdom of one?” If this chorus is in-line with the rest of this song, this to me screams: Danni lost nearly everything in the Battle of Winterfell - Jon (parentage reveal), potentially Rhaegal (not that he died, just that he’s kinda Jon’s dragon now), the Dothraki, most of the Unsullied, and her most trusted advisor and friend in Jorah, and now there’s no point in not just burning everything down.

If I squint, the chorus could be about Cersei (everything she’s loved before doesn’t matter next to power, she burnt down the Sept and once Jaime left effectively became a “kingdom of one”), but overall it doesn’t seem to emotionally fit her as well, and Cersei has no involvement with the other Winterfell characters alluded to - nor any involvement in the battle. Also the song ends with even more fire (“burn it all”, “ash to ash, dust to dust”).

Power is Power by The Weekend

I know this song has had a lyric video, but I think it’s still worth examining. “Power is Power” (those words, not the song itself) is obviously a Cersei line, but the first verse seems very Night-King-oriented (“I was born in the ice and snow, with the winter wolves, in the dark alone”)

The chorus though then goes into something that could fit Cersei or (probably) Danni as well (“A knife in my heart couldn’t slow me down, cuz power is power, now watch me burn it down”). There are many, many, many “burn it all” references through this album, and while Cersei did use wildfyre on the Sept, Danni’s whole thing is “Fire and Blood” so it just seems inevitable that it’s her burning the Red Keep/King’s Landing.

“I die looking up at your face…Only love could kill me, God bless” Could again fit Cersei (with the theory that Jaime kills her) or Danni (betrayal for Love)

“Heavy is the crown, but never for a queen” Again, both Cersei and Danni, but again the song ends with “Now watch me burn it down”.

Nightshade by The Lumineers

Pretty much about the collective group in the S7 excursion beyond the wall. The second verse is interesting and very specific — about a single rider who saw the Army’s footprints, who swore an oath and with their life would pay, and also mentions “80 miles from home”. Seems like it’s about Benjen who was a rider, a Night’s Watch member, and a Stark from Winterfell (not exactly 80 miles, but I’m assuming that number was more chosen for rhyming purposes).

The 3rd Verse (“We were surrounded and the ending was near, all of the sudden, a ranger arrived, a savior appeared - made it to safety, but the devil was here”) again about Benjen (ranger) arriving to the S7 fight beyond the wall.

Originally I thought the chorus wasn’t really thematically relevant to the rest of the song (each chorus ends with “It was all for the throne”), and it seemed more like a general allusion to the marketing for the season, but also could be that the whole Beyond the Wall excursion was literally only to gain Danni a temporary truce in her perusal of the throne.

Hollow Crown by Ellie Goulding

The song overall is about a House of Cards (“paper castle”, “hollow crown”, all things that are flimsy and won’t last) and again mentions “burn it down”. And again pretty clearly seems like a Cersei & Daenerys song about the other being the fake queen and how it’ll end with Dany burning the Red Keep.

The first verse is all about paranoia (“Is there anyone you trust ‘round here”, “Keep a knife under your pillow”, “You got everyone against you somehow”, “It’s become an obsession, look at your refection, look who you’re becoming right now”): while this could still fit either of them, the “look at who you’re becoming” seems more Danni-relevant as Cersei has always been this way.

Baptize Me by X Ambassadors and Jacob Banks

Perhaps about Theon? A lot of water imagery, mentions of redemption and praying for a savior, but overall of all the songs on the album this one is the most vague and generic country-rock. Maybe I’m being stupid for not getting who this song is about, as it doesn’t even completely fit Theon completely, and just doesn’t sound like any character we know specifically. I’m really not into this song, and ends up just sounding like a guy in our world singing about God instead of a Game of Thrones character.

Too Many Gods by A$AP Rocky & Joey Bada$$

Overall about a lot of wars, a lot of gods, etc. Good song! Definitely specifics about the show (thrones, ravens, etc.) that could be about Jon, but kind of mainly about the futility of war and all the pain it brings. Some interesting single lines:

“It’s just too many laws” - reminds me of Jaime’s “They make you swear and swear” speech.

“Strange screams down the corridors” — Arya running through Winterfell’s halls

“I had a dream I woke up a king in a peasant body” — Jon post-parentage feelings, not feeling like he should be a king?

“Still and silent, writing papers, flying ravens with a message about me” — Anytime I read/see S8 stuff mentioning raven scrolls all I can think of is Sophie Turner saying she was given a raven scroll from S8 as a souvenir, and I want to know what it means. So that is all I can think of with this line.

Turn On Me by The National

Musically, this is my favorite song on the album. Great lyrics, great atmosphere. The lyrics seem to point to the song being about Jon from Danni’s perspective. Starts off about the rhythm of the ocean under the moon (boat!bang), and specifically mentions “And your mother’s angst the day you were born, the day you cut her down” (Lyanna dying in childbirth). For a bit I thought it could be about Tyrion, but the rest of the song is dealing with the betrayal of an intimate relationship which doesn’t really fit with him.

The second verse is a total mystery to me that may be solved in retrospect, but its very poetic (“Do leaves fall in perfect sentences? Do maggots crawl your name?”).

“Do mirrors laugh at you behind your back?” — this is the second reference to mirrors, after the line in “Hollow Crown”

“Does your family think you’re too far gone, do you wonder if they’re right? Are you different than you used to be? Are you alone somewhere tonight?” — Danni & Jon post-parentage. The Starks clearly not interested in Jon taking on a Targaryen identity.

“I’ve gone too high, I’m way too far, I’ve no idea where you are. Will I see you when you turn, when you turn on me? When I turn around will you be there, at the center of the world like you promised to be? Will you suddenly seem like a stranger? I can’t tell anymore what you want from me.” — Again, whatever Jon and Danni had in Dannie’s eyes has been ruined by the reveal, and her worry is that he’ll turn on her.

From the Grave by James Arthur

“crown of roses in your hair”, potentially about Rhaeger and Lyanna? A lot of “I’m far away, but I miss you and want to come back”. Not to mention it’s called “From the Grave” and they’re both dead, and within the song it sounds like the singer is speaking from the grave. Another vague song.

Me Traicionaste (“You Betrayed Me”) by Rosalia

It’s in Spanish so I had to google translate the lyrics, but the sound is very haunting and it’s literally called “You Betrayed Me” HELLO.

“I came to meet you even though I knew, Oh, you designed it, Bye, you betrayed me, Oh, love you do not see it”- Which is straight-up Political!Jon in one stanza. You can squint and see Tyrion or Varys betraying her, but she’s not in love with either of them so seems much less likely.

When I Lie by Lil Peep

“Stick that needle in my eye, just lost my peace of mind, I’m not evil be design, but I feel dead at times”.

“All my friends are really dead, still hear their voices in my head”.

This one is hard to pin down, as the lyrics are very specific but somehow vague at the same time. I’m wondering if “needle” is Arya’s Needle, and potentially this is about Cersei? Or someone else that Arya will kill with Needle? The song uses “lie” as both “not telling the truth” and “laying down”.

Love Can Kill by Lennon Stella

“I wasn’t thinking when I told you to stay, it was just too hard to push you away, you don’t know that you’re in over your head, I’m afraid I’ll push you over the edge” — Another mystery song! The rest of the song is about this relationship that needs to be let go of even though they don’t want to, and how one of them is not safe because of it. 

I thought about it being Danni & Jon, but I don’t think it makes sense. 

The only thing that has already happened in the show that fits the lyrics is actually Tyrion and Shae - him saying he needs her to leave even though he doesn’t want to, her being in danger, the consequence being life or death...but that relationship was a long time ago and doesn’t really feel important enough to merit a song, so who knows.

Wolf at Your Door by Chloe and Halle

Just from the title I immediately though of Jon at Dany’s door on the boat, but this song actually encompasses all of the remaining Starks (though mostly focuses on Arya).

“A wolf creeps softly in the snow, a knife between her teeth she roams, for she is now a stranger” - Arya using her faceless man skills to sneak into the Godswood with the Catspaw Dagger.

“Chasing a fairytale, chasin’ a lie, but everything changes, and everything dies. You preyed on my innocence, tried to bury my name, but now there’ ice in my veins” — Sansa wanting to be a princess in a fairytale that wasn’t real, her family dying, being used by everyone as a pawn, but coming out the other side.

“There’s a wolf at your door, there’s a hound at your heels, there’s a snake in your bed, tell me how does it feel?” — Maybe about Jon — the wolf at your door, and he’s sleeping (or was sleeping) with a “dragon” (might be a stretch to snake, but whatever). Or he’s the snake in someone’s bed?

“When you let the wolves in, you let the wolves in. When you think that it’s over, I swear, we’ll be there” - A Time for Wolves bitches!

“Up from the ashes, run through the fire, Down by the blade that bled us the same” — clearly about the Catspaw Dagger being used against the Starks and then Arya using it to protect them. 

I’m lit by this song’s lyrics.

Pray by Matt Bellamy

This song uses direct clips of Melisandre’s words while bringing Jon back to life in S6, but then the English says “Pray with me, we can bring her back” which…is someone (Dany? Sansa?) else going to die and then be brought back to life? A woman hasn’t been brought back before in the show (as far as I remember) so it’d need to be talking about in future episodes. Color me curious.

[facemypast]

MUNDAY FACT SHEET.

NAME: Brittany. NICKNAME: Britt, B  SEX/GENDER: cis woman PRONOUNS: she / her. EYES/HAIR: blue and (dirty) blonde. HEIGHT/WEIGHT: 5′2″ and like idk around 135? BUILD: athletic (read: thunder thighs and big ass shoulders :P) TATTOOS: none yet. SCARS: cat scratches across my right chest and shoulder blade. Burn scar from work on my right forearm. Scar from my track spikes on my left knee.  PIERCINGS: two in each earlobe and an industrial in my left ear.

MYERS-BRIGGS: ISTJ-T, the logistician

The Logistician personality type is thought to be the most abundant, making up around 13% of the population. Their defining characteristics of integrity, practical logic and tireless dedication to duty make Logisticians a vital core to many families, as well as organizations that uphold traditions, rules and standards, such as law offices, regulatory bodies and military. People with the Logistician personality type enjoy taking responsibility for their actions, and take pride in the work they do – when working towards a goal, Logisticians hold back none of their time and energy completing each relevant task with accuracy and patience.

Logisticians don’t make many assumptions, preferring instead to analyze their surroundings, check their facts and arrive at practical courses of action. Logistician personalities are no-nonsense, and when they’ve made a decision, they will relay the facts necessary to achieve their goal, expecting others to grasp the situation immediately and take action. Logisticians have little tolerance for indecisiveness, but lose patience even more quickly if their chosen course is challenged with impractical theories, especially if they ignore key details – if challenges becomes time-consuming debates, Logisticians can become noticeably angry as deadlines tick nearer. 

When Logisticians say they are going to get something done, they do it, meeting their obligations no matter the personal cost, and they are baffled by people who don’t hold their own word in the same respect. Combining laziness and dishonesty is the quickest way to get on Logisticians’ bad side. Consequently, people with the Logistician personality type often prefer to work alone, or at least have their authority clearly established by hierarchy, where they can set and achieve their goals without debate or worry over other’s reliability. Logisticians have sharp, fact-based minds, and prefer autonomy and self-sufficiency to reliance on someone or something. Dependency on others is often seen by Logisticians as a weakness, and their passion for duty, dependability and impeccable personal integrity forbid falling into such a trap.

ENNEAGRAM: type 3- the achiever 

People of this personality type need to be validated in order to feel worthy; they pursue success and want to be admired. They are frequently hard working, competitive and are highly focused in the pursuit of their goals, whether their goal is to be the most successful salesman in the company or the "sexiest" woman in their social circle. They are often "self-made" and usually find some area in which they can excel and thus find the external approbation which they so desperately need. Threes are socially competent, often extroverted, and sometimes charismatic. They know how to present themselves, are self-confident, practical, and driven. Threes have a lot of energy and often seem to embody a kind of zest for life that others find contagious. They are good networkers who know how to rise through the ranks. But, while Threes do tend to succeed in whatever realm they focus their energies, they are often secretly afraid of being or becoming "losers.”

Threes can sometimes find intimacy difficult. Their need to be validated for their image often hides a deep sense of shame about who they really are, a shame they unconsciously fear will be unmasked if another gets too close. Threes are often generous and likable, but are difficult to really know. When unhealthy, their narcissism takes an ugly turn and they can become cold blooded and ruthless in the pursuit of their goals.

ALIGNMENT: true neutral

A neutral character does what seems to be a good idea. She doesn't feel strongly one way or the other when it comes to good vs. evil or law vs. chaos. Most neutral characters exhibit a lack of conviction or bias rather than a commitment to neutrality. Such a character thinks of good as better than evil-after all, she would rather have good neighbors and rulers than evil ones. Still, she's not personally committed to upholding good in any abstract or universal way.

TEMPERAMENT: choleric.    

The choleric temperament is fundamentally ambitious and leader-like. They have a lot of aggression, energy, and/or passion, and try to instill it in others. They can dominate people of other temperaments, especially phlegmatic types. Many great charismatic military and political figures were choleric. They like to be in charge of everything. However, cholerics also tend to be either highly disorganized or highly organized. They do not have in-between setups, only one extreme to another. As well as being leader-like and assertive, cholerics also fall into deep and sudden depression. Essentially, they are very much prone to mood swings.

KINSEY SCALE:   X- no sexual attraction ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: panromantic SEXUAL ORIENTATION: asexual IQ: 135 OCCUPATION: student, research coordinator, research assistant . RELIGION: ??? agnostic at best. PETS: my fam has 7 cats and a dog SCHOOL: pre-med LANGUAGES: english, french, italian, german MEDICAL: my heart is wonky and gives me extra heartbeats NEUROLOGICAL: none ETHNICITY/RACE: white, mostly german and italian HOBBIES: writing, Netflix, working out INTERESTS: fitness/nutrition, travel, foreign languages, marvel, lord of the rings, music, movies BLOGS: this one is most active, but i also have @fxngride​, @moonlithunt​, and @theoneandonlykili​

SOCIAL MEDIA: discord for mutuals, snapchat/insta/twitter for close mutuals, and facebook if I’ve met you in person lol

TAGGED BY: stolen from @warwearysoldier​ TAGGING: anyone!  

[dangerwatson]

            SO, MS. WATSON. YOU WANNA MAKE A DIFFERENCE.

It’s ya girl Lin back on my ‘ let’s cry about a beautiful woman together ’ bs. Here’s MJ ! It’s long, but that’s to have all her relevant information in one place should you ( or me more than likely ) need to hit it up for future reference. I’m excited to have her here ya’ll.

BASICS.

Given / Birth Name : Mary Jane Watson Nickname / Preferred Name : MJ, Red Alias(es) : N/A Birthdate / Age : June 19th 1991 / Twenty - Seven Place of Birth : Montoursville, Pennsylvania Current Location : Little Italy, NYC Gender Identity : Cis Female Sexual / Romantic Orientation : Disaster Bisexual Ethnicity / Race / Cultural Heritage: African - American && German Marital Status : Single Occupation : Field Reporter && Political commentator for Weekly Review Religious Beliefs : Agnostic. Raised Christian.

CHARACTERISTICS.

Height : 5′8″ Weight : 135 Body Type / Build : Entirely Average. Could stand to go to the gym, but honestly who has that kind of time. Don’t compare her to fruit she hates that. Eye Color : Green  Hair Color / Texture : Auburn. Worn natural, 4b curls and all. Sometimes braided, sometimes weaved, sometimes in bantu knots or covered by headscarves. She’s very particular with her hair - touching it can and will lead to physical harm against the perpetrator if unwelcome. Recognizable Features / Scars : Big ol’ dimples and a slight cleft chin. Dusting of dark freckles across nose and chest. Speech Patterns / Accent : Has a deeper voice, boarding whisky worn. Because she’s moved around the majority of her childhood MJ has no discernible accent, giving her a modulated tone that’s perfect for clear annunciation across media platforms. Languages Spoken : English, French, ASL Powers / Skills / Abilities : No powers, however MJ has a nose for good stories, and tends to follow wherever they take her.  Overall Health : Good.

RELATIONSHIPS.

Order of Birth : Youngest Number of Siblings : 1 Father’s Status + Relationship : Phillip Watson, alive. An abusive alcoholic, former High School English teacher. No relationship amends have been made. Mother’s Status + Relationship : Madeline Watson nee Rains, deceased. A starry eyed dreamer, former actress turned stay at home mother. Left Phillip after he struck Gayle, bounced both children through various family members. Passed away shortly after from congenital heart failure exacerbated by stress and lack of access to treatment. Sibling Status + Relationship : Gayle Watson, older sister by almost five years. Unlike MJ, continued to have a relationship with their father. Married her schoolyard sweetheart and had two children. He divorced her around the same time MJ graduated high school, leaving both sisters ( and her nephews ) living under Aunt Anne’s roof. They’re nearly estranged. When she visits her aunt and nephews, both sisters make a point of keeping their conversations short -- if they happen at all. Loyalty / Affiliation : Outwardly neutral, though subject to change behind closed doors.

PERSONALITY.

MBTI : ESFJ Hobbies : Dancing. Doesn’t matter where, when, why or how. Catch her pulling an n*sync routine in her living room at 4 PM on a Tuesday. MJ also has a knack for exploration. There are a lot of ( read : free ) things to do around the city and magically finds them all. Who cares if you have no interest in the Fungi Festival, there are booths everywhere for a quick way to kill an afternoon. Tried needlework one afternoon, didn’t stick and now there’s an abomination of mutant looking cats hanging above her bathroom door. Bad Habits : Smoking. Fixing / hyper - focusing on her hair when uncomfortable or stressed. Jumping head first into the dating scene only to find out it’s the shallow end. Providing 20 second long fart sounds whenever someone asks “how are you?” Taking care of others before taking care of herself. Three Positive Traits : The silent Mom Friend. Allow me to explain : MJ is traditionally that bitch^tm making sure you get home okay after hanging out, she ensures your soul is as well nourished as your body. For all of her outward party-girl aesthetics and a forced mean girl perception on her by others, she makes sure her friends are in good headspaces. That they feel encouraged to follow their ambitions and ultimately celebrate every success no matter the size. It’s the type of selflessness that she’d wanted for herself growing up, so I’ve labeled it as her BEST trait. She’s incredibly outgoing. An extrovert through and through, getting her battery charged by being around people. It’s what makes her an attractive personality. When in a battle of small talk, MJ not only listens and remembers those small shared details but she knows how to keep the conversation going without making it seem like a chore. I love how in tune she is like that, girl vibes hard with new and old friends alike. Finally, MJ would make a professional bargain hunter blush. She grew up poor and as a direct result is extremely careful about what she’s doing with money. And yes, being financially responsible during these trying times as a Millennial trying to earn that bread is pretty much a given good quality. We all wish it wasn’t, but here we are. Three Negative Traits : MJ is stubborn to a fault. When she digs her heels into something it’s hard to get her to stop until a desired outcome is achieved ( or undesired, event depending ). While this is usually reworded as a positive asset —- being so DRIVEN and MOTIVATED —– that’s simply not the case with her. She’s lived through all consequences resulting from this inability to budge and none of the supposed rewards. Been fired from more jobs than she’d care to admit for telling former bosses where to shove unrealistic worker expectations, or coworkers where they can file passive aggressive bullpucky. She’s also incredibly stunted emotionally. As mentioned, she’s a silent Mom Friend, but reciprocation of her actions isn’t met with as much of an openness as one might expect. MJ keeps her feelings to herself, and it usually builds up until she suffers a full scale breakdown triggered by something mundane like … dropping a fry or seeing a lady bug stepped on. Decompressing is a word in her vocabulary, for sure, but it was easier to partake in as a 20 year old than as a near 30 year old with responsibilities and bills to pay. Picky puts it in palatable terms, but MJ knows what she likes and how she likes it. When she doesn’t, then she’ll quickly find a preference. In the meantime we’ll say she’s very particular about what styles she likes to wear, how her make up is, how her hair looks, and over all what image she’s presenting to a general public. It’s a habit she hasn’t been able to shake. Moral Alignment : Neutral Good

ASSOCIATIONS.

One Song : Dead and Lovely - Tom Waits One Quote / Piece of Art : “Beware; for I am fearless, and therefore powerful.” One Fear : Following the Watson Women path of horrible no good very bad mistakes and poor life decisions. One Strength : Persistence One Object : Breathe Right Nasal Strips One Place : May’s kitchen One Food : Garlic One Scent : Cinnamon. One Lucky Charm : Old tattered friendship bracelet

-----------------------

Pretty typical “American Dream !” 50′s family dynamic. Everyone looking great in their Sunday best photos, father with a steady job, stay at home mom to save on daycare, two daughters and a stray cat named Sir Stinkybottom.

Father started facing emotional breaking points brought about by lack of what he considered satisfactory income and inbound midlife crisis. Turned to drinking, ( turned into a right train wreck. )

Mary-Jane, Gayle and Maddie hopped from various family member’s couches to crash for a couple of weeks at a time during the separation process from Phillip.  This lasted a year.

Maddie passed away when MJ was around 10 and Gayle 15, Gayle instantly taking up the role of Mother Figure to MJ’s wild child foil. MJ maintains she doesn’t remember all that much about her mother while Gayle remembers everything and that becomes a point of contention. 

Father returns into their life. It’s messy, he eats away at their still developing ego’s like the cancerous human blob he’s chosen to become. Their Aunt Anna, who they live with, intervenes when she can.

Gayle gets the fuck outta there by marrying her high school sweetheart, moving to the midwest and popping out two adorable munchkins named Kevin and Thommy.

MJ has the pleasure of dealing with their dad alone for the next five years. Which she does by a little thing called home avoidance. Garners the reputation quickly as a party girl at Midtown, someone ready to go anywhere and everywhere at any time. 

Began solidly working around fifteen to help Anna out, sometimes in Diners, sometimes in retail. Her ability to sell her brand began early and honed with surgical precision during these years. All currently reflected across media platforms where she became a 2010 influencer ( and paid for little more than modeling ).

Started college at seventeen, typical move. Took 6 years for her to finish as she paid her way through without loans. The last thing MJ wanted when finally breaking out of Queens was a student dept choker. Graduated at 23 with a dual bachelors in journalism and political science.

Bounced between larger broadcasting industries for a few years as an underpaid intern before growing concerned by their lacking criteria. The burnout was real.

Tirelessly sought employment at her favorite ( but SMALL ) news agency. By luck of the draw she was screen tested and hired on for a slot as field reporter.  

She’s been with Weekly Review since. Now having two years under her belt ( still extremely Green in her industry ), she’s pushing for higher scope investigative journalist pieces. And for once, they’re not telling her no.