I don't feel like IS is over-correcting. Even their character descriptions of Rhea, Edelgard, Claude and Dimitri are consistent with how KT wants them to be presented. Claude even uses strategies that he asked the villains about in Hopes and repeats the Edelgard rhetoric in Heroes as well. I'm pretty sure they just want you to like everyone.
Ehh,
That's where we disagree anon, it's all about the presentation.
KT, in Nopes, doesn't even give a voice to Rhea - she's wholly unplayable, un-support-able, heck you can interact more with random npcs than with her.
Dimitri? Zahras' demolished him because he cannot tell the other two kids they're asshats - and this is taking into account how Zahras Dimitri can happen after Mattias's death, or worse, Ingrid's!
Claude is someone noted for his ambition, but also his curiosity and a need/want to understand things, something Clout lacks - as he buys the information campaign, and showed more reaction to Macuil being able to talk than to Rhea turning in the IO !
And even Supreme Leader, to some extent, KT wants us to believe she's free and fights her own battles... but the end of Supreme Bullshit ends with Captain Falcon vs Dark Shadow, with Supreme Sailor Fuku (hell do I hate the sailor fuku, we came from the armored Emperor from the Post TS, even in her red dress she had more class, to that? A school girl uniform with metal plates? Seriously??) watching from the bench.
Yes they want us to like everyone, but KT has, in Nopes, imo, a very specific definition of what "everyone" means.
Dimitri kills soldiers who want to invade his land? BaD BaD BaD.
Supreme Leader marches on Faerghus, the Alliance and GM? It's just a normal sunday.
Rhea exists? BaD!
Point taken for Claude though, even if I have to check the jp script because FE Fodlan showed everyone you can't trust lolcalisations when it wants to lol-calise, even some scenes or lines from FE16 and FEH tend more to his Nopes!Counterpart than the one we ended up with in FE16 - even if the FE16 one isn't all roses and sunshine!
(but that'd imply both IS and KT intended Almyra to be... what it was shown in Nopes, and I had a bit more faith in them lol)
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Timeloop au snippet
Brutal economy of motion, silent, Lucien watched Nesta spread her napkin over her lap. Straighten her silverware. Draw closer the water rather than the wine at a precise right angle, and then fail to drink.
“No one human left to write to,” Elain laughed, the sound a grating lie.
Nesta wound her hands together beneath the table, knuckles white.
“You,” Morrigan’s laugh cut into the word, interrupted by a swallow, “You want to send letters to faeries?”
Calm, cool, dead- Nesta addressed the wall somewhere behind Azriel, “Our family has traded with faeries for fifteen generations.”
Rhysand hummed, low in his throat, the noise imbued with enough power the hairs on Lucien’s arms rose. “Of course. Merchants. Do humans consider business a success when they’re starving in a hovel, living only off their children’s bravery?”
Morrigan let out another shattered glass laugh. Waved her drink Nesta’s direction, jaunty. “All in the past now. You’re Feyre’s family. You need not worry about being taken care of.”
The High Lord of Night responded by showily pouring wine down his throat.
Quiet, in the icy lull that followed, Azriel said, head ducked as though speaking only to Elain, “Your guards will be allowed into the city now, I’ve taken care of it. The barracks in the harbor will house them.”
“They hardly need them,” Morrigan cut in. “The House is impermeable.” She leaned forward, toward Lucien, “The walls of Velaris have not been breached in more than twelve thousand years. We can keep two girls safe.”
Safe- they’d shattered their lives and watched them be killed.
They’d been murdered, just to punish Feyre, for the asinine plan of this foolish, petty Court.
It was insult too far, for Nesta.
“Is it?”
Slow, menace filling the air like a chill, Rhysand shifted. Had both his feet on the floor and the whole otherworldly force of his furious violet gaze on Nesta, when she continued.
“The safety of your city is secrecy,” Nesta hissed, “And you already sold it. Twelve thousand years ended the second you were insane enough to imagine humans would choose you, the son of slave-owners.”
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“Come on.”
“Uh?”
Diane looks up as Naomi stands and holds out her hand as if this isn't a ridiculously careless thing she's asking her to do, as if neither of them has the good sense to mention that neither one of them has any idea what they're getting themselves into. As if neither of them might be walking straight into a trap of their own making, or nothing much will change at all and they'll forget about each other in a month, or a few days. As if it's a risk worth taking to find out which.
As if there's anything else to do today.
“I'm not going to the hospital.”
“I know.” Naomi reaches a little closer. “I have a first aid kit at home.”
Enough to get them through, that's all. Enough for now.
“You know how to wrap it?” Diane asks as she takes Naomi's hand to pull herself up, as though the answer might change her mind somehow. Naomi smiles a little, as though she knows it just as well that it won't.
“Yeah.” She sets Diane's hand down on her shoulder. “It's not far, come on. I'll carry you down the stairs.”
“You'll drop me.”
“I will not.” Naomi urges her forward, along the concrete path out of the park. “I mean I'm just offering, I don't have to.”
It's a nice gesture, though, isn't it? It was a nice thought.
They walk slowly down the street, stepping more or less in sync past the general store with the baking supplies just past the doorway, turning at the corner to walk toward the coin laundry that's open even at three in the morning and also on holidays. A hand-drawn poster in the window of the discount shoe store across the street loudly advertises VACUUMS REFURBISHED while a Times New Roman printout on the telephone cubicle in the middle of the block offers “suitable compensation” in exchange for willing test subjects, No Questions Please; a few steps farther along stands an apartment building that somehow looks like it's missing a couple of stories, and Diane shifts her weight to her good leg as Naomi steps away to fumble with the lock on the front door.
“It's the door on the left,” Naomi says, the door sticking only slightly as she shoves it open. “When you get to the basement.”
She opens the first door on the right, a stairwell that only leads down.
“Upstairs is that door over there, but I don't know any of the neighbors, so. I'm not gonna introduce you to anyone.”
That's fine. Diane doesn't want to know any of them, either.
Naomi walks down the stairs first and doesn't try to carry her.
“Bathroom's at the end of the hall,” she says. “The taps aren't broken, the water's just cold when it's cold outside and warm when it isn't, but if you let it run for a little while, it'll...fix itself. And make sure you don't touch the water heater, it's metal and it gets really hot sometimes.”
Diane clutches the wooden banister nailed to the wall as she limps her way down and wonders how much of all this she's supposed to remember. All of it, probably. It isn't very complicated.
Naomi unlocks the door on the left and holds it open.
“You can sit on the bed.”
It's good of her to offer. It isn't much of a bed, really, more of a mattress pushed into the corner, but that isn't exactly a surprise, and it's good of her to offer all the same.
“Thanks,” Diane says, a little too late to seem quite natural. Naomi hums a disinterested acknowledgment and doesn't seem to mind.
“Take off your shoes.”
Diane promptly unties her sneakers, placing them on the floor beside the bed as Naomi kneels in front of her with a roll of ACE bandage in her hand and her eyes focused on Diane's ankle like she's the only attending physician in the entire complex who doesn't have better things to do with her time than tend to something as trivial as all this. Diane should count herself lucky the timing worked out the way that it did.
Lucky, was it? It's about time.
The single bulb in the overhead light flickers a little as if a public execution has just disrupted the power grid, or someone's turned on too many air conditioners at once and blown a fuse a few floors up.
“Don't worry about it,” Naomi says. Diane doesn't bother to assure her that she wasn't.
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Lana del Rey's exact wing (9w1 or 9w8) is torturing me. I see strong arguments for both. But I lean towards w1 after thinking it through properly.
Popularly everyone types her 9w8, probably because of the fallacy that 1s are all boring political types who hate art. Really 1 is the type that is MOST fixated on actualizing their ideals of beauty, so... yeah. That changes the game here completely.
I see w8 in her life choice to live Mad Max style and her constant focus on sex. Though that can all be explained away with her being an sx/sp. I see w1 in her prissiness, her extreme perfectionism towards her appearance and her highly stylized and polished music videos. Her focus on philosophy -- she got a degree in philosophy, few know this because it isn't really in her songs -- and also the tone of sarcasm as opposed to raw rage in most of her songs. She never overtly expresses her feelings of anger. But her songs are almost all sarcastically digging into the guy she is mad at by painting a pretty picture of how brutal and disrespectful of her (non-existent and invisible) boundaries he is. A w8 would be much more direct and also more minimalistic / ugly, less stylized than her. She has the 1-ish pursuit of perfect beauty
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