#writing hub ss

[linksthoughtbrambles]

On Awakenings in The Legend of Zelda

In The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild, on the corrupted-guardian-infested Blatchery Plain, in one moment Zelda is all but helpless--and in the next she becomes a living weapon capable of holding the Calamity itself at bay single-handedly.

Why did this happen at that moment? Why didn't prayer work? Some people say it's because the answer was love, but I only partially agree. I think the answer is in the screenshot.

We get scattered breadcrumbs of evidence in Breath of the Wild, Skyward Sword, Twilight Princess, Ocarina of Time, A Link to the Past, and other Zelda games that help to answer these questions. I won't talk about every single one - just the biggest, most glaring ones.

1.) The Triforce on Zelda's Hand

This is the hub of my whole argument. The Triforce on Zelda's hand (and the one that appears in the air in front of her in other shots) is complete.

Zelda is wielding the power of the entire Triforce at once--all three parts: power, wisdom, and courage. In this game she is not simply the bearer of the Triforce of Wisdom.

The punchline: BotW Zelda successfully wields the whole Triforce.

2.) Skyward Sword Link Had to Awaken The Hero Inside Him

In Skyward Sword, Zelda says, "...the goddess, Hylia, needed someone with an unbreakable spirit. That someone is you, Link. But spirit alone wasn’t enough. You had to overcome many trials and awaken the hero within yourself so that you could wield that supreme power." The supreme power she refers to is the complete Triforce.

SS Zelda is telling us ordinary courage isn't enough.

The punchline: To wield the whole Triforce, you must be a hero.

3.) Only One with a Balanced Heart Can Wield the Whole Triforce

In various games, we're also told only a balanced heart (containing wisdom, power, and courage) can wield the full Triforce. When an unbalanced person tries, the Triforce breaks into its three parts. The one most strongly aligned with the person who tried to wield it remains with them, while the other two find their most strongly aligned people alive. (In OoT, this is how Link and Zelda get the Triforces of Courage and Wisdom respectively--Ganondorf touches it, but he is unbalanced and can't wield it, so it shatters).

This is why in OoT and Twilight Princess, Link and Zelda's hands only show one glowing triangle--not all three. They each only have access to the part of the Triforce most strongly aligned to them.

The punchline: BotW Zelda must have a balanced heart when her power awakens.

4.) Once Zelda's Power Awakens, She Can Hear The Master Sword

Suddenly, after Link collapses on the Blatchery Plain, Zelda is able to hear Fi and see the glow within the Master Sword--the sword tells Zelda how to save Link.

When Zelda's power is fading at the end of BotW, she can no longer hear the sword's voice.

This strongly suggests that the magic which allows a person to hear the sword doesn't come from the sword--it comes from the person listening! [This is a critical detail for my fanfic, but I won't go into it here].

The punchline: a person must have their own magic to hear spirit-voices.

5.) The Dream Vision

BotW Zelda writes in her diary of a disturbing dream. In it, a beautiful woman tried very hard to speak with her, and it seemed urgent but Zelda simply could not hear what she was saying.

The meaning of this dream vision seems clear: Hylia is not refusing to speak with Zelda at all. She is, in fact, trying to reach her. Zelda is unable to hear Hylia because the magic which allows them to communicate does not come from Hylia. (Just like the magic that allows Zelda to hear the Master Sword does not come from the Sword). Zelda must be awake in order to hear the Goddess because the magic which allows it to happen is Zelda's.

The punchline: Hylia was not silent. Zelda was deaf.

6.) There's No Evidence That BotW Link Could Hear Hylia or Fi Pre-Calamity

Imagine being Link standing at the Spring of Power while Zelda's begging the Goddess Hylia to tell her what's wrong with her.

Put yourself in Link's shoes for a moment.

He knows Zelda's power is critical for Hyrule. So regardless of his other motivations... if Link could hear Hylia's voice coming from that statue... wouldn't he have acted on it? Wouldn't he have told Zelda he could hear it? They could have tried to work out the difference between Zelda and Link and tried to understand what Zelda needed to do. At the very least, Link could have been a go-between.

None of this happens. Zelda remains entirely in the dark until the moment her power awakens.

If Link could hear Fi... at the very least, Fi could have told Link prayer was irrelevant. (Maybe Link just didn't tell her, you might say. I say - no way. They were talking to each other by the end according to Zelda's diary. He'd have said something).

The punchline: There's a good chance Link was also deaf.

I'll collect all those punchlines: a.) BotW Zelda successfully wields the whole Triforce. b.) To wield the whole Triforce, you must be a hero. c.) BotW Zelda must have a balanced heart when her power awakens. d.) A person must have their own magic to hear spirit-voices. e.) Hylia is not silent. Zelda was deaf pre-Calamity. f.) There's a good chance Link was also deaf pre-Calamity.

Putting all that together with what Zelda does right before the Triforce appears on the back of her hand:

Link defends Zelda first--and more than just defending her, he knows this next shot is about to kill him. He stands there anyway, willing to die to give Zelda that one last chance to live. This is more than ordinary courage. This is the courage of a true hero.

Zelda says no.

She shoves Link back and steps between him and the guardian's targeting laser. And more than just defending Link, she knows this shot is about to kill her. She stands there anyway, willing to die to give Link that one last chance to live. This is more than ordinary courage. This is the courage of a true hero!

I propose to you that in this moment, they have each stepped between the other and what they believe to be certain death.

I propose that in this moment, they both met the final requirement necessary to wield the full might of the Triforce: to not only be willing in theory to die for someone, but to decide willfully to do so right then in the moment--the ultimate self-sacrifice.

True Courage.

At this moment, Zelda is now a balanced hero, no longer deaf, and the symbol of the whole Triforce appears on the back of her hand (because it's her birthright, passed down to her by heredity like parts of it were in Zelda I and II).

I believe in this moment, BotW Link may have also heard Fi's voice for the first time.

('What about when he saved Zelda from the Yiga?' you might ask. Was that brave of Link? Sure! Did he think he was facing his own death? Unlikely. He makes quick work of those footsoldiers).

('What about love?' you also might ask. Didn't love awaken Zelda's power? Well, yes, it did! She loved Link enough to die for him. The nature of that love is up to your interpretation--the drive of a stranger to shove someone else's kid out of the way of a car on the street is still a form of love, even though it doesn't come from any sort of prior attachment. I personally interpret this to be romantic love, but you don't have to. The courage of a true hero is what activates the power--the love catalyzed it).

There's more.

I decided to post about this is because a critical moment in a fanfic of mine depends on the answer to these questions. (That said, I'll post about the fanfic separately, and the rest of this will just be my answers to the questions).

As I typed this, I realized there's so much more that ties into it, but if I put it all in this one post, it'll be far, far, far too long. So... I guess I'll be posting more of these. This must be 'On Awakenings Part 1'!

On Awakenings in The Legend of Zelda, Part 2 is now up and can be read by following this link.

#loz #loz botw #zelda #zelda theory #botw theory #zelda's awakening #botw memory 17 #botw memory blatchery plain #botw memory zelda's awakening #zelda's awakening theory #triforce #breath of the wild #legend of zelda #this matters a ton for one of my fanfic series #guess this is just part 1

[ambustested]

I just like the phrasing "underground gladitorial games" bookmarking for later use.

Prisons at 300% capacity ohoho how very American of you. Joking aside I'm guessing this is because they just orchestrated a mass arrest but there are other instances of prisons in IDW that make it believable to me that mass incarceration is a thing.

As an aside its just interesting to think about in terms of "what do you do with outliers, combiners, mecha with destructive functions who cant be placated". Like in a society with such inequality that occasionally makes a robot that would be really powerful and thus pose a threat, having a robust and overly punitive system is a good way to maintain order and to get rid of problematic mecha.

Starscream hijinks. I love "I was eager to see how the other half lived" in particular.

Whats that quote where its like "The output of a system is the purpose of the system".

LOLOL fun

Mass prison break, yippee!

Oh this is where people get Starscream being a megatron gladiator fanboy from. How funny.

I JUST LIKE EVERY LINE SS SAYS IN THIS ISSUE UGH

He said the line!

Here's where I go, that is not later Megatron, I mean it is in the sense that Megatron and his regime, and just the war overall, does create a whole lot of desolation in the name of peace. But I remember other parts of IDW definitely pitching a softer, more well meaning Megatron. This Megatron is just very much, I am going change everything and kill all who oppose me which is a bit terrifying in that anyone could be fellow victims of the system who are concerned or desire input about the direction the movement is heading.

I think its an interesting place to start for Optimus because he is inheriting power and several powerful members from an abusive power structure to fight against mecha that were its victims that also are adopting a very destructive and dangerously violent motivation going forward.

Interesting to note Prowl radios back to Iacon. I personally like to write about it as the capitol and central hub of Cybertron but its hard for me to remember if it's official distinguished as such!

Had to check the wiki to comprehend the whole Ratbat thing

Not gonna lie, Soundwave forcibly sealing Ratbat inside a different frame is very spooky, and not something I see explored a lot, but I would like to!

Sentinel is just kind of a warmongering badass

Another thing I caught only from looking at the wiki is the armor seen above here is what Megatron is sitting on as a thrown at the end here:

Which is sick imagery, your throne being the former armor of a (possibly deceased) prime.

Overall a fun read, really enjoyed!

#read through #megatron origins 4

[blousedeath93]

How To Search Out Out Everything There Is To Learn About Metal Toy Crane In Six Simple Steps

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But I persevered, and now ride around with happiness and confidence. It extremely polarized the neighborhood; they feared the dilution of their culture was now cemented. We should be prepared to take risks; taking part in it secure and pandering to the plenty might present short-time period good points, however it dooms this tradition to being little more than a fad. We should not overlook that our dissatisfaction with the mainstream is what brought us to this tradition in the first place. In the event you do find a spot to launch the animals, the place must be at the least 5 miles away so that they can not discover their way back. Genre boundaries are intended for a label-acutely aware mainstream – something that steampunk by no means cared for in the primary place. Unlike movements such as Arts and Crafts or American Craftsman, which are rooted in particular historical intervals, steampunk combines an imagined past with the current and typically even the long run.

There’s positively an infinite variety of attires to choose from, as Steampunk goggles have a really broad versatility relating to clothes matching. No doubt Dodge executives of the 1940s could not have imagined the huge marketplace for private-use 4-wheel-drive trucks that exists at present. A grim reminder of such co-optation exists in cyberpunk history. The dilemma runs deeper, nonetheless, as a result of cyberpunk has an embedded benefit: innovation is encouraged by way of new technologies. However, there are bands that fit the bill. However, earlier than the 18th century, toys as such, barely existed. Adopt the highest single speed conversion kits as per the necessary usage. Verdict: The A 2 Z single dialog speed package is an automatic selection in velocity testing. Frames of this era also tended to have more generous tire clearance than newer sport bikes, offering extra versatility in the choice of tires, and using fenders. The first which retails for $250, consists of all of the aforementioned elements and is designed to let you utilize your current rear wheel with our hub.

I used the Yess ETR-V to convert my Anthem for my first taste of SS riding. You’ll additionally avoid wear and tear on the dear components fitted to a geared bike, so they should last longer once you swap again to riding your summer bike. Riding a fixie means you benefit from your limited winter riding time. Now, it’s your time to do your half: go, craft your goggles, and most significantly, have enjoyable! A steampunk interior can seem much just like the Victorian drawing room in your imagination - stately, restrained, proper - whereas at the same time containing contemporary comforts and conveniences. Another steampunk-type room can look more theatrical, much just like the lair of a mad scientist. 1The emergence of punk led to the rise of solely new genres from goth to new wave, thrash to psychobilly, and lots of extra. It’s the downfall of punk yet again, disguised by surface-degree sophistication. It’s not merely retro-revival, however a complete new breed of musical creations. Any clockwork piece (as long as it’s not too heavy!) could be added to the facet shields of the goggles or even the lenses themselves. The Clockwork Dolls and Escape the Clouds inject cinematic aptitude and adventurous storylines into everything they create.

#3d metal

[hencethebravery]

“The Swan-Jones Christmas Special,” a CS Writers’ Hub Secret Santa gift for @justanotherwannabeclassic! Merry Christmas, Shea! May the holiday season warm ur heart and bring good things to u and yours. xo

When you’re living your “Happily Ever After,” there’s no reason you can’t start enjoying the holidays. A happily married, post-S6 holiday extravaganza.

+ The first Christmas after she bears the official title of being someone’s “wife,” (which, when in the hell did that happen) Emma Swan-Jones decides that she is no longer obligated to be such a Grinch.

In her worn, imaginary copy of The Sad Orphan’s Handbook for Fairytale Saviors with Wretched and Otherwise Tragic Backstories, celebrating the holidays is one of those things that naive, mistakenly happy people do because they don’t know any better. Because they would rather be happy and dumb than smart and depressed (and obviously lacking a basic understanding of the evils of American capitalism). Up until only a few years ago, the holiday season had been nothing more than a way to convince people with no money to spend all of their money. An excuse for people who don’t get along (and usually with good reason) to be forced into the same room with one another, drinking away their disagreements and ignoring the inevitable truth of their lives: that nothing matters and the holiday season is an illusory, peppermint-flavored garbage festival.

The first Christmas after she bears the official title of being someone’s “wife,” (which, when in the hell did that happen) Emma Swan-Jones decides that she is no longer obligated to be such a Grinch.

“I’m sorry, a what?”

“A ‘Grinch,’ Killian, my God.”

No more, she thought stubbornly, trying and failing not to grin at the sight of Main Street all lit up and festive on the first of December. Nevermind the fact that Christmas was still, like, 3 weeks away, and putting up decorations this early and playing Christmas music non-freaking-stop at Granny’s is unbelievably annoying, and—this was gonna be a little bit harder than she thought.

After they watched the original, 1960s version of How the Grinch Stole Christmas, and Killian had a somewhat clearer idea of what Emma might have meant when she said that she no longer felt compelled to be a “Grinch,” he was still somewhat befuddled by the expression. Which was still just as charming as ever, but sometimes she wished she didn’t have to crack open her heart quite so much.

“Are you suggesting that your heart is of an unusual size, love? Because I hate to tell you this, but I have seen it.”

“Yeah, don’t remind me,” she says on a huff, pressing a hand against her sternum as if looking for the beat of the thing. “So?” he asks again, giving her a playful nudge, “What does it mean to not be a ‘Grinch,’ as you say?”

Sometimes she feels herself becoming quite sick at the prospect of having to share yet another one of her pitiful childhood memories (wondering if he hasn’t grown a bit sick of hearing it yet), but in order to really explain to him the whole, “embracing the holiday season” thing, he does kind of need the context.

“I know the Enchanted Forest,” trying desperately not to cringe when those words pass her lips, “didn’t really ‘celebrate’ in the same way this world seems to—”

“I don’t know,” he interrupts thoughtfully, “we had the odd celebration from time to time. I know I certainly stopped caring once I was at sea, but, it was known to happen.”

She’s not going to argue with him, and he is probably right, but she knows that there’s absolutely no way that the celebrations in magical, fairytale place were ever anywhere near as over-the-top as this world’s. For one thing, no constant, looping holiday music from every speaker in existence. No holiday-themed food and drink and movies and television—no constant, living reminders of the fact that the holidays are a special time for family and friends and some people don’t have any of those.

“I wanted it,” she begrudgingly admits, “at first.”

At a younger age, before she realized that it was folly to want such things. She desperately wanted the music, and the shopping, and the baking of the cookies. She wanted the nicely wrapped presents under the tree, and the large, obnoxious family dinners. And in retrospect, of fucking course she wanted those things. What small child, awash in the light and warmth of the holiday, wouldn’t want those things?

There was of course, the rather unfortunate truth, that Emma Swan had not been placed in the ideal situation for achieving optimal holiday bliss.

“Most of the homes I was in,” she explains, to the aggrieved look on her husband’s face, “didn’t really care. Or didn’t have the money to.”

She has incredibly vivid memories of asking for things—nothing extravagant or complicated, but just, ya know, basic. Can I get a coloring book for Christmas? Can we bake some cookies today? Can we go get a tree? And to all of these questions, at any point in time before her pre-teen years, the answers were almost always disappointing, tinted with anger, or downright cruel. A lot of them often followed the, “Do you think you’re special?” theme, as if an orphaned nobody would have the gall to suggest that she be treated like any other kid in her class.

“Well,” Killian says after a pause in her recollections, trying and failing to avoid touching his wife, when all he wants to do is wrap her in his arms and never let her leave the house, “that settles that, then.”

She looks back at him with a question in her expression, the small frown fighting to stay in place despite the fact that she has suddenly found herself locked in an almost painful hug. Not that this sort of thing hasn’t happened before.

“Christmas, Swan. You shall never want for a proper holiday celebration again. I swear it.”

“This isn’t Buckingham Palace, ya know,” she replies sardonically, again, trying to keep from laughing and pathetically losing this game they always seem to be playing, “we can just bake cookies or something, you don’t need to embark on a noble quest to defend my honor or something equally stupid.”

“You know very well I have no idea what that means, darling,” a large, absurd smile, and a wet, warm kiss on her cheek, “but defending your honor will always be one of my very highest priorities.”

Killian Jones spends the next few years making certain that every single one of their Christmases post-wedding is practically over-laden with holiday cheer. One year, that same year she had made her enthusiastic pledge to fully and unequivocally embrace all the holiday flim-flam, she had returned home from the station to find an unreal number of lights decorating nearly every inch of their property. From the understated, white twinkle lights to the large, retro-looking bulbs in shades of various primary colors—their entire house was practically a fire hazard; hung in the usual places, lining the rooftop, wrapped around the bannister, and even lined along the walls of their bedroom (for “mood”).

He also started pushing out more cookies than the Keebler Elf, which she pretended to be upset about until he caught her stuffing them in her face in the middle of the night. He experiments with a number of sizes, flavors, and colors, shopping them around to friends and family members, trying to discover the perfect combinations. The snickerdoodles are Emma’s favorite, especially when he “accidentally” drops in more cinnamon than the recipe had called for (which drives him a bit “batty,” but it’s worth it).

And before she knows it, these small, silly, typically Killian Jones-type things become something like… tradition? Swan-Jones family traditions. There are lights every year, no matter how busy they seem to get (with her parents, or Henry, or some other magical bullshit), and they watch the same movies every Christmas Eve (How the Grinch Stole Christmas, of course). And when the unexpected finally happens, and she’s only just begun to show a bit round middle, there’s always a small plate of cookies set aside for her cravings in the middle of the night.

“Ah,” he says quietly, a warm hand resting between her breasts and swollen belly, a heart beating in tandem with hers (both of them), “Just as I thought.”

“What’s that?” she asks sleepily, with the barest comprehension of whatever romantic nonsense he’s spewing at this particular moment. “Your heart, darling,” and she opens her eyes just wide enough to see his face aglow with the warm light of their tree, “just about three sizes too big.”

#ouat ff #cs ff #cs fanfic #cs drabble #writing hub ss #captain swan #cs: shit is breathtaking bro #@hencethewriter

[justanotherwannabeclassic]

What Kind of Day Has It Been

Author’s Note: It’s time for the presentation of my Hub SS. A very long time ago (aka a few months) @distant-rose​ prompted me with a series of political CS AU prompts. One of them involved Killian working at the White House, and Emma getting a job there, but she was worried he somehow pulled strings. Anywayyyyyy, I finally wrote it.  Ro, I apologize for being the worst question-asker, but I am so so glad to be your Santa. It was almost as cool as being your friend. I hope this brings cheer to your busy holiday season, and provides a useful study break. <3 Summary: Emma Swan was one of Washington’s best lobbyists, and she is about to be offered the role of the lifetime: Deputy Director of Legislative Affairs for the President of the United States. But when her boyfriend, Killian Jones, the Press Secretary, lets it slip that he spoke to her potential boss about her, Emma questions if she’s receiving the position on her own merits or because of who she knows. Is it a giant misunderstanding?

Rating: T Read on AO3!

*cue The West Wing theme*

“Ohmigod, can we have a picture?” Emma hid a smile behind her travel mug of coffee, watching as her boyfriend became flanked by two starry-eyed undergraduate students. Killian flashed his winning smile — the one that landed him on the top of Washington’s Hottest Political Operatives last year, and she knew the young women by his side were swooning in more ways than just one.

“Apologies, love,” he said to her after. He slid his gloved hand into her free one, and pulled her closer to his side. Emma could still hear the girls excitedly commiserating, no doubt discussing which hashtags to use to show off their photo with the Press Secretary to the President of the Goddamn United States. She still wasn’t over that part. She doubted she ever would be.

“Please, you’re not sorry one bit.” She bumped her shoulder against his, reveling in the way the tips of his ears turned pink — and not because of the winter weather. “Don’t act like you won’t be scrolling through the OnlyatGW tag looking to see what they said about you.”

“I will not! I’m not that vain,” he argued, his voice taking the petulant tone of a teenager, which meant he — or more accurately, his assistant, Smee — would be doing just that over the next few days. “Besides, you don’t even know if they were GW students.”

“We’re literally on GW’s campus.”

“We’re in Foggy Bottom.”

“Which is GW’s campus,” Emma pointed out, no doubt waiting for him to whine about urban campuses. “Besides, it’s not like Georgetown students would deign hobnobbing around with the common folk to venture into the city proper.”

“I’ll have you know your President attended Georgetown,” Killian countered. Emma wanted to point out that it wasn’t necessarily a defense. Regina Mills, now Madame President, carried an air of haughtiness wherever she went. Not that it wasn’t totally deserved. The woman was incredibly intelligent, holding degrees from Georgetown and Princeton, not to mention accomplished. She’d had the titles of Mayor, Representative, and President. Regardless, that didn’t stop the various news pundits of skewering her on air for her pretentiousness and how she didn’t relate to ‘Real America’, whatever that meant.

“Yeah, well, your big boss isn’t here and the GW students are.” A strange, almost hopeful, expression crossed Killian’s face for reasons that Emma couldn’t quite place. Filing that thought away for later, she tugged his hand. “C’mon, walk me back to my office. I’m getting cold and I know you have to get back.”

They had met for a quick lunch at one of the many fast-casual salad places that popped up over the city seemingly overnight. Emma had been craving the totchos at Tonic, a pharmacy-turned-bar further into campus, but Killian had limited time with meetings and the endless corralling of the White House Press Corps, and she knew she had to take what she could get.

It wasn’t easy being in a romantic relationship with the most public facing staffer in the Mills Administration. He was constantly busy, always on call, and she thought he hair was turning prematurely grey — well, about as a premature as a thirty-six year-old-man could get — due to the stress of it all. But that’s what happened when you served at the pleasure of the President. Besides, it wasn’t as if she didn’t also have her stressful and busy periods. Whenever budget appropriations and major bills loomed on the horizon, leaving work before 10 pm felt like a luxury.

Such is the life of Washington’s Hottest Power Couple, she thought. Not that anyone outside of Mary Margaret, Emma’s roommate when she first moved to Washington, called them that — at least to Emma’s face, that is. Will Scarlet had tried, and Emma had dumped a glass of water over his head in retaliation.

She could play dirty in and out the courtroom, thank you very much. This was one of the many reasons why she was a pretty damn good lobbyist. “Assuming the political gods don’t conspire against me, I’ll try to be home at a somewhat decent hour tonight. Perhaps then we can crack open that bottle of wine we’ve been hoarding and relax for a spell?” Killian asked when they reached the building where The Queen Group was located. He quirked his brow in a way that Emma found to be most adorable, and she leaned up to kiss him before answering.

“I thought you wanted to save that for a moment worth celebrating?” she asked. The bottle in question had been a gift from Regina Mills herself, fermented with grapes grown in her family’s vineyard, after the close of her campaign. Killian, being the overdramatic and sentimental man that he was, had decided that he wasn’t going to open it until a time worthy of drinking wine gifted from the President of the United States.

“Every day I spend with you is worth celebrating.” Emma snorted. “And perhaps I found out some good news that I want to celebrate later.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“You’ll know soon enough.” The man had the audacity to wink. Asshole. “At any rate, I’m expected back at the office. I’ll see you tonight, love.” He placed a kiss on her cheek, and promptly darted off before she could attempt to ply him for more information. She had no idea of what he meant about ‘good news’. It wasn’t as if he was expecting a promotion. He already had a pretty ideal gig, and she knew he wasn’t planning on leaving for at least another year or two. She wondered if it had anything to do with any of the West Wing information he wasn’t allowed to share with her. Maybe it had nothing to do with work, but instead family. Maybe Liam and Elsa were expecting? They last time the couple visited, Elsa had confessed that they were trying to conceive.

God, they would have beautiful babies.

She and Killian had only discussed babies in the theoretical sort of way. It was something they both wanted, but at the current points in their careers, neither wanted to add the additional responsibility of caring for an infant. Besides, they weren’t married, or even engaged. Yet, a traitorous voice whispered in her eye.

Could that be Killian’s reason to celebrate? Was he planning on proposing? Emma pushed away the thought as quickly as it entered her mind. It was doubtful that Killian would propose on a random Wednesday night — he was far too dramatic for that sort of thing.. She walked back into her building somewhat in a daze and directly to the elevator, uncharacteristically forgetting to wave to Anton the Front Desk Security Guard. Now that she was thinking about Killian proposing, it was hard to get the idea out of her mind. Months ago, the thought of him dropping down to one knee would have, to quote Ruby, “sent her running to hills.” But now the idea made her feel warm inside, secure — and that was more terrifying than anything else. She’d always been a bit gun shy regarding interpersonal relationships. She could trace that flaw — because, though it was deserved, she still considered it a flaw -- back to the day she was born, to when her parents abandoned her on the side of road. She’d bounced from home-to-home after that, never really finding a place or close friends. She thought she had found one in Lily, but that went to hell. That lack of stability didn’t make for the most trusting of adults, even if things did work out in the end.

Emma honestly didn’t know where she would be had it not been for her final foster placement — the Nolans. David and Mary Margaret Nolan had welcomed her into their home with open arms. David was a state representative, so Emma was sure her placement had everything to do with wanting to score cheap political points instead of actually wanting to care for a disaffected teen.

Emma had never expected that she’d still be keeping the family photo Mary Margaret had insisted they take her first day with the family on her desk fifteen years later. And yet… The Nolans were not what she expected them to be.

She had assumed they’d be fake...plastic...only for show. She’d assumed Mary Margaret Nolan would have used to the family photo for some gain as a politician’s wife. But no, she was simply alarmingly sentimental. They asked about her favorite foods and books. Mary Margaret took her shopping for new clothes and assisted her with her homework. David filled her in on the inner-workings of government and secretly took her out for pizza whenever Mary Margaret was on a health kick.

They watched television shows together. Had family game nights. They offered help with homework. It was all so saccharine…

...which was why Emma attempted to screw it up as soon as she could. She’d learned before that even the “good” families never lasted. There was no use waiting around for them to kick her out, so she would force their hand. So, she stole a couple of watches from the pawnbroker in town. She made it so she would get caught, and caught she had been. Things were easier that way.

Only things didn’t turn out how she expected — par for the course of life with the Nolans.

David Nolan convincing Mr. Gold not to press charges hadn’t been a surprise — of course, he had to protect his optics. What surprised her was that they didn’t send her back. He should have sent her back. That’s what people like him and his wife were supposed to do. But they didn’t. The Nolans sat her down and had a long talk about it. They hugged her, like they were the family from fucking Full House. They also didn’t, however, let her off the hook completely.

They made her volunteer. “Community service,” they said. It would teach her a lesson while also giving her something to put on her college resume. (Because they actually cared about her getting into college.) So off Emma went to assist Mary Margaret in planning the Miner’s Day Festival — which she hated — and over the summer up the state capital to help David with constituent services.

“I don’t get why you do it,” Emma had said on day, watching as David mulled over the pros and cons of an upcoming pension bill.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re not like most politicians, that’s all,” she’d replied. “You’re not soulless, like, you actually care.”

“Well, there’s your answer, Emma. I do it because I do care.” She remembered how he had sighed deeply and moved from his desk to sit by her side on the Nolan’s overlarge sofa. “I’m not in this for the money or fame, but because I believe this is the best way for me to make a difference, just like how Mary Margaret believes teaching is the best way for her to make a difference.”

“That’s pretty cheesy.”

“In the short amount of time that you’ve known me, when have I never not been cheesy?” The had been, and still was, “never.” David Nolan still encapsulated the concept of cheesiness well into retirement age as he did when he was younger. It had actually been him, and not Mary Mary Margaret, who bought the t-shirts emblazoned with “Nolan Family” on the back he insisted they all wear the day their adoption of Emma had finally gone through.

But even beyond the cheesiness, that conversation had always stuck in the back of Emma’s mind. How would I make a difference, Emma had pondered. She knew early on that she loathed teaching with every fiber of her being. Volunteering with David’s re-election campaigns never enthused her. It wasn’t until she was ‘forced’ to join a club — for which she chose Speech & Debate — that Emma found she was actually good at being persuasive. When she was accepted in college, she had decided to major in political science, because that was familiar. Soon, a path began to reveal itself to her, and after a couple of internships Emma knew how she would make a difference: lobbying.

Her career path was an odd mirror of David’s. Like him, she had chosen to work in field that was more or less considered a hive of scum and villainy, aiming to further line to the pockets of the top 1%. And, to a degree, that reputation was deserved. Many lobbyists did only care about corporate interests — but there were many who also advocated for prison reform, reductions in gun violence, healthcare reform, and the rights on minorities across the spectrum. The Queen Group, where she worked, tended to focus on lobbying for causes that primarily impacted women and children. Emma, herself, had successfully aided in lobbying for laws expanding the protection of victims of domestic and sexual abuse and increasing the adoption tax credit. This was how Emma made a difference, and she felt damn good about it.

“Hey Emma!” The eager voice of the firm’s top Policy Researcher, Belle French, pulled Emma abruptly from her thoughts. Belle approached her quickly, a stack of color-coded files in hand. “Here’s the stuff you requested. I think stats of trafficked kids might be particularly appealing to Senator Gold. You know how he gets about those things.” “Thanks, Belle. I really appreciate it.” Belle also wasn’t wrong in her assessment of Gold. He was a jackass tof the highest order, but Emma could also consistently count on him to sponsor or at least take interest in legislation dealing with children. And while supporting kids sounded like something everyone should agree on, the how of it was often a point of contention. “Do you have any information on a state-by-state breakdown? If we get some good stats on California, Fisher might also swing.”

“Will do.”

“What would I do without you?”

“Die, probably,” Belle replied with a wink. Emma wasn’t sure she could dispute that fact. “I’ll get that to you by COB.”

“You’re the best.” Emma weaved her way back to her desk, Killian’s whatever momentarily forgotten as she rant through a list of Representatives would might be open to listening about earmarking more money to efforts focused on curbing human trafficking. She was so focused on her thoughts, that by the time she got to her desk and dropped the stack of files and her phone down, Emma realized that she had missed two texts from Killian.

Heads up if you get any calls from the 202 code, don’t assume they’re spam. Please answer.

Followed by, in close succession:

I promise at least one won’t be spam.

Emma stared at her phone. What the hell was going on? Whatever it was involved someone from the local area code calling her, but what about? Knowing dwelling would do no good, and that she had too much work to do, Emma set her phone aside. That would be a ‘later’ problem —but she made sure to turn up her phone’s volume as not to miss a call.

An hour later as Emma working her way through her inbox, her cell began to ring, the default Apple ringtone startling her. Her screen indicated that it was an unfamiliar number, but from the 202 area code.

“Killian Jones, if this is spam, I’m going to murder you…” Emma muttered. She moved to close her office door, unsure of who was on the other line or what they were discussing before she answered. “Emma Swan speaking.”

“Emma? Hi, this is Mal Draco. How are you doing today?”

“Um, well, fine. Good. I’m good,” she sputtered. Mal Draco was the Director of Legislative Affairs at the White House. She was wicked smart with an incredibly impressive resume even ignoring her position within the Mills Administration. To Emma, she was sort of a professional role model — and Mal Draco was calling her. “How are you?”

“Excellent. I’m considering strangling Speaker Spencer, but what else is new?” She laughed, and Emma joined her, though she was sure her own voice sounded fake. “Listen, let’s cut to the chase. I’d like for you to take some time to come over to talk about the deputy position. I want as little time between Glass leaving and the new person coming on as possible. Is that something you would be interested in discussing?”

“Of course, yes, definitely.” Emma was sure if her heart was attached to a monitor, her pulse would be off the charts.

“Wonderful. I’ll have my assistant send you some times. I look forward to speaking with you. I’m particularly curious to hear your thoughts on the latest CR.”

“I have many.” Which was true. She had very many thoughts on the latest CR and what she thought the Democrats had to give up and what they should hold their ground on. “I look forward to speaking with you.”

“Same.” After exchanging a few final pleasantries, Mal Draco hung up on the other end of the line.

Emma leaned back in her office chair, her head spinning and heart pounding. Mal Draco, Director of Legislative Affairs at the fucking White House, wanted to discuss her soon-to-be open deputy position. It was her professional dream. She pinched herself to ensure that she wasn’t just doing that.

There was no way this could be real, could it? When news had gotten out that Draco’s deputy, Sidney Glass, was stepping down to take a Pharma lobbying position, she had entertained the idea -- as had practically every other Beltway lobbyist. But she never imagined…

“Holy fucking shit.”

Emma quickly opened her personal email account, where sure enough, a message from Draco’s assistant was sitting and waiting for answer. Emma cross-checked the the potential dates and times provided with her calendar, and fired an answer back. She would have to come up with an excuse explaining why she would be gone on Thursday afternoon, but that was doable. OBGYN appointment? No, people would assume she was pregnant. Dentist? People would absolutely know she was interviewing elsewhere. She had plenty of sick days saved up, but she had to ensure that she was seen lingering around the EEOB in professional attire. But that was just a small issue, dwarfed by the amazing opportunity that had fallen into her lap.

No, not fallen. She worked hard for this. She deserved this. She was Emma Swan. Potentially Emma Swan, deputy Director of Legislative Affairs. She liked the sound of that title.

She grabbed her phone.

You will never guess who just called me

Emma knew Killian was busy, and likely wouldn’t respond immediately, and she was correct. Another hour had passed by the time her phone began to buzz again. Emma was actually a little surprised that he was calling instead of texting, but she didn’t mind.

“Hey babe,” she greeted. She was still on cloud nine, and strategizing on what she could discuss with Draco. “Guess what?”

“Does what I’m guessing involve the Great Dragon of Capitol Hill?” His voice was teasing, though there was an undercurrent of pride; however, all Emma could focus on was that he apparently already knew she was getting the call.

“Um, yes, actually. It does.” She shouldn’t be surprised. He had warned her, without explicitly saying what it would be about. So why was a knot forming in her stomach. “She wants to talk to me about the deputy position.”

“That’s excellent, love! Truly. When Mal talked about it with me, I told her that—”

“Wait — you two discussed me?”

“Well, yes, why wouldn’t we?” he responded with a laugh. “No worries. I only said nice things and kept it decidedly PG.”

“I’m glad you didn’t tell the Director of Legislative Affairs about our sex life.” She kept her tone light, not wanting to let on that her excitement was quickly fading as their conversation continued. “Look, I’m a little busy at the moment, so maybe I can talk tonight?”

There was a pause. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just distracted by the CR, that’s all.” It was a lie, but she didn’t want to let on her feelings over the phone now. Besides, she actually was concerned about the upcoming CR vote.

“Aren’t we all?” Killian mused. “Well, I’ll let you go. Assuming that we don’t invade another country or a SCOTUS justice kicks it, we can celebrate.” His voice lowered. “And maybe rate things a little NC-17.”

“Reign it in, tiger. We don’t want the press pool assuming you’re trying to have sex talk in the oval. The last thing Regina needs is a sex scandal.”

“Look who’s worried about optics now. That’s usually my job.” Emma could practically hear his smile. “I love you, Emma.”

“I love you, too. Bye.”

Emma waited until the distinct sound of Killian ending the call before she sat her phone carefully on her desk. Her earlier giddiness had been replaced by a sense of gnawing self-doubt that she hadn’t landed the interview because of her credentials, but because of who she was sleeping with. She was well aware that politics was a “who you know” kind of field, built on networking and recommendations passed along. Hell, she been at one of those networking happy hours when she had met Killian. But still, she wanted Killian’s role in her maybe getting the job of a lifetime to be absolute zero.

Some might call it misplaced pride, but Emma considered it caring about her reputation. Politics as a whole was still a Good Old Boys club. She knew how people talked, especially when it involved women and sex. It had been one of the reasons why she’d initially been wary of even going out on a date with Killian, back when he was just the Communications Director to the Speaker of the House. She hadn’t wanted her integrity put into question. If she was sleeping with one Hill staffer, she was sure enough to get more passes and maybe the reputation that she slept with them all.

God, and with Killian being in the position he was in...he was the most public facing staffer. Even outside of the government-focused at the local universities, strangers people recognized him. Hashtags were dedicated to him. If she got a job at the White House, she wouldn’t be surprised if some blogger with an axe to grind with the administration would make a ‘thing’ out of it. What was even more maddening was that if their roles were reversed, she doubted anyone would question if Killian was the one who got the job.

“Fucking shit!” She slammed her hand against the desk.

Truth be told, Emma was also angry. Angry at the situation. Angry that Killian had talked to Mal Draco about her. Angry that she was dwelling on optics, and not on the amazing opportunity.

That anger carried over throughout the rest of the work day. She stayed late, partially because she wasn’t ready to head home, but also to prepare for a long day of meetings on the Hill the next day. It was cold when she left the building, the chill souring her mood even more. She took comfort in the fact that the late hour ensured she could find a seat on the metro. She attempted to read, as was her favorite pastime on the train, but her mind was far too distracted.

If she was offered the position, she would take it. There was no question about that. But she did not like the doubt that had seeded itself into her mind. She wanted to get by on her own merits. It was why she didn’t apply to the college her adoptive parents had attended, nor accept any internship opportunities back in Maine. She didn’t want to get by as David Nolan’s daughter, and she didn’t want to do the same as Killian Jones’ girlfriend. The many, many rom coms that Mary Margaret was obsessed with hadn’t prepared her for this.

She walked slowly from the metro station to the row house she and Killian rented together. She remembered when he had suggested moving in together. It had been the morning after Regina had won the election.

“I like this,” he had said that morning as he twisted his fingers through her hair. His voice had been thick with sleep, and God, they had both been so terribly hungover that morning. But they had been so happy.

“It’s called hair.”

“I meant waking up with you,” he’d replied. He then kissed her softly. “I would like to do it every morning.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah?” The surprise had been clear on his face, even has his smile dazzled. “Every morning?”

“Every morning.”

They had found a place during the transition. Killian had prioritized the Capitol Hill neighborhood, wooing her by pointing out that she could walk to the pretzel bakery she loved. They’d found a row house, its door painted bright red — “It’s your color, love,” Killian had teased. She always felt a bubble of warmth whenever she turned the corner and saw that house, and despite her foul feelings that night, she was unable to suppress a grin when she saw the lights shining bright in the winter night.

“Emma?” She heard Killian call out from the kitchen. Her favorite record was playing in the background. “Hope you don’t mind, but I picked up some Italian from that place in Bloomingdale! I ordered you the Saffron Mafalde.”

Also known as her favorite meal from her favorite restaurant in town. She had to remind herself that he was happy for her. The pride in his voice had been evident over the phone. He didn’t know about her tumultuous feelings. Emma hung up her keys and shed her coat, giving her a moment to brace herself a battle. She doubted he would understand.

“Emma, love?” Killian suddenly appeared before her, a bottle of wine in hand. He had long since changed out of the suit she saw him in this afternoon, and was now dressed in jeans and a dark sweater. He still wore his anchor socks, however. Killian, for as cool as he tried to appear, subscribed to the George H.W. Bush School of Patterned Socks. “What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re a bit of an open book, darling,” he replied. His brows knitted in concern. “Did something happen at work? Is your family okay?”

Emma knew she that she should ask him to sit down so that they could calmly talk it out. That’s how David and Mary Margaret worked out their feelings. It was the mature way to handle conflict. Emma, however, wasn’t feeling particularly mature that night.

“Why the fuck would you talk to Mal Draco about me?” Her voice was louder than she intended it to be. “Look, I get that you want the best for me, and that’s nice—”

“Emma—”

“—but it’s important to me to get a job on my own merits. I want to be hired at the White House because I’m a fucking badass—”

“—you are a fucking badass—”

“—not because my boyfriend decided to pull some strings. My career and reputation are important to me—”

“I know.”

“—and having you going around and trying to hook me up with dream jobs isn’t what—”

“Emma, stop!” This time it was Killian who raised his voice. Emma abruptly stopped her argument, not fully surprised by Killian’s interjection. She watched as he sat down the bottle of wine on the entryway table, before he turned back to her and crossed his arms.

“For what it’s worth, I never once attempted to hook you up with a dream job. I knew you’d bite my head off if I even tried, which you are now,” he said pointedly.

“Then why did you say that you talked to Mal about it?”

“She was the one who talked to me about it. She thought I would find it interesting that you were at the top of their shortlist. And, just so you know, that reason I never told you that earlier was because I didn’t want you to accuse me of meddling,” Killian added. Emma’s anger was quickly dissipating, only to be replaced by regret. “She also wanted the Communication team to be aware of the situation, should anyone jump to conclusions...like yourself, apparently.”

She could feel Killian’s anger radiating hotly, even as his tone remain measured throughout the rest of his speech. “Killian, I--” The words died in her throat as she struggled to find the right words to say.

“At any rate, because you are such a ‘fucking badass’, I did pick up some dinner to celebrate, which is now probably getting cold. I don’t wish to argue any further, so let’s just eat.”

“Killian, come on.”

“Swan, you made you feelings apparent, and there’s nothing I can do to rectify that. So, please, let’s just have our dinner.”

She considered arguing further, but refrained. As dinner wore on, she realized she should have pushed for reheating the meal later. Conversation was stilted, and she could tell Killian was still wounded from her accusation. Besides…

“No offense to your boss, but this wine is not better than Two Buck Chuck...and it goes for a lot more.” Emma grimaced at the glass in her hand. So much for the Mills special label.

“It’s Three Buck Chuck now,” Killian corrected. He had a habit of going out of his way to correct her when he was annoyed. It was petty, and Emma hated it, but she let it go. “Besides, she’ll be your boss soon enough.”

“You don’t know that. I haven’t even sat down and interviewed with Mal yet,” Emma said as she stabbed rather forcefully at her pasta.

“You’ve got it. You know how these things go. This isn’t some hillternship. They wouldn’t bring you in if they weren’t serious, so unless you bungle it up significantly— which you won’t — you’ve got it.”

He was right. That was how these things went, which had only heightened her earlier excitement. This was almost certainly happening.

“So how long have you known I was up for the job?”

“Swan—“

“C’mon, you can at least tell me now,” she prodded. “Everything is already out there, and it’s not like this dinner is going super swell.”

He stared at her blankly for a moment before sighing deeply. “I’ve known for about a week. I didn’t know she was going to call you until this morning, however.”

“Which is why you were so giddy at lunch.”

“Which was why I was so giddy at lunch, yes,” he confirmed. “I was really looking forward to celebrating with you.”

“Until I fucked it up,” she replied, irritated.

“I really wish you didn’t put words in mouth. I never said that.” He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

“You’re right. Sorry.”

The expression he gave her told her that he didn’t believe she was actually sorry, but he didn’t say it. He didn’t need to. He was being a bit of an ass, but it was reactionary. He honestly hadn’t started anything this time. Honestly, he’d been more blindsided than anything, something Emma regretted.

“Look, I get it, I know I’m the one who messed up tonight. I know that, Killian, and I truly am sorry about that,” she stressed. “I know I was being a bitch to you, but can you at least understand where I was coming from? Even you said that Mal was worried about the optics.”

“I just wish you would have trusted me not to interfere like that, love,” Killian replied. He tentatively reached out and grabbed her hand. “I know what your career means to you, and we’re honestly not worried about the optics. Your resume speaks for itself. That’s why they want you. We’ll also be in two completely different departments.”

“But still under the same White House.”

“Yes, still under the same White House. We’ll probably still have to meet with HR and fill out some paperwork, but it’s not like I’d be your boss and you my assistant. It’d all be above the board,” Killian answered. His expression shifted. “You want this, don’t you?”

“Are you kidding me? It’s The Dream,” she emphasized. “What political science nerd doesn’t dream of someday working at the White House? Jesus, I’ll have to figure out a way to tell David without him getting a gleeful heart attack.”

“They’ll be quite proud. I know I am,” Killian said, and Emma knew he meant it. “My girlfriend is going to work for the President.”

“That would be more impressive if you didn’t already work for her.”

“If you want to talk about optics, it’s honestly the kind of shit the press eats up. They’ll be having pools on when the Rose Garden wedding might be.”

“God, Mary Margaret would die.” She could just imagine it now, her parents flanking her sides as they escorted her down the makeshift aisle, Killian wearing a navy suit and smiling brilliant. She flushed when she noticed Killian staring at her with a twinkle in his eye. “Does the press really bet on that stuff?”

“When they’re bored,” he shrugged. “I’d rather them focus on that than trying to drudge up a pantsuit scandal.”

“I don’t even remember the last time I saw Regina in a pantsuit.”

“Exactly."

They laughed together, the earlier tension slowly dissipating into something more tender. Knowing there was more left to be said, she told him, “I really am sorry for freaking out at you. I recognize that wasn’t fair.”

“I appreciate the apology, and I do recognize that this is overwhelming. Remember when I first got my job?” Killian replied, his expression soft

“I believe you wore mismatched shoes immediately after you found out.”

“And I vomited in my office trash can both before and after my first briefing,” he said. He’d never told her that part. “I truly am looking forward to seeing what you accomplish for the administration. I have a feeling that you’re going to be extraordinary.”

“Going to be? I thought I already was extraordinary,” she said with a laugh. He called her that often enough. Extraordinary. Fantastic. Beautiful. All the adjectives in between.

“Haven’t you put me through enough tonight, woman?”

“Please, I’ve barely begun to put you through anything tonight,” Emma teased. She took triumph in the way his eyebrows practically disappeared into his hairline and the slight flush the colored his cheeks.

“Well then.”

“Someone did promise me that we’d make tonight a little NC-17."

“That I did.” He licked his lips. “Would that make this makeup sex or celebration sex?”

“Who says it can’t be both?” They both laughed as he chased her up the bedroom to truly celebrate the night.

#captain swan #cs ff #captain swan ff #cs au #s writes fic #hub ss #are you going to yell at me?

[onetimeblog]

Write Up

This is a write up concerning the Rape Scandal concerning Tyrion, a guild member of Remnants of Lordaeron. 

==

In the mid 2010s, Tyrion was accused of participating in inappropriate RP by his ex-rp Partner.

The accusation was: “Six months ago Tyrion RPed raping a 14 year old NPC of his own make in the middle of Pig and Whistle at night.”

The officers online at the time of the accusations at night (2am-4am) decided to kick Tyrion out of the guild along with all names the accuser claimed was ‘aware’ of the RP and kept quiet about it after 1 hour of internal deliberations with no investigative work (all parties were sleeping at that point).

==

The GM’s, Adamantt’s, Recollection:

At around 4am in the morning I was woken up by my phone with a message informing me of the accusations and the subsequent actions taken by the officers. I got online and inquired about the situation.

It was discovered that the alleged RP took place 6 months prior to the accusation levied.

It is discovered then that the alleged RP took place in the Pig and Whistle at night, the emote was in /em, public. I understand the first screenshot of that tiny batch says ‘Cuthroat Valley’ but in the following 5hr+ conversation the location bounced around. But as far as I am concerned, it was in a Stormwind City public RP hub.

It was noted that the accusation clearly marked that the RP was targeted at NPC of the accused’s own make, which means the incriminating emote itself has to specify the NPC is 14 years of age - the age was also bounced around between 12 to 14 to 15 but it this also didn’t matter much, it was still a child’s age.

It is noted that there was no screenshot of the emote itself, when asked why there was no proof of the RP happening the response was “By the time I realized what happened the chat had scrolled so far up I could not screencap.”

Despite that, the officers online then at 3am decided to kick the accused and all names involved with no intention allowing them to respond to the accusations, or even informing them of the accusations.

What followed was 5~ hours of dialogue in which I stressed proper procedure, and that we could not condemn a guildmate for such heinous a crime without any tangible evidence, without even giving them the benefit of a doubt, or even speaking to them about the accusations and/or allowing them to explain before kicking them, with such dubious of accusations.

==

Thoughts

In hindsight in my 4am brain I was terse and the verbage I used was not the most tactful. In my point of view the officers could not get over the trigger words  (“rape”) and kept going on and on about it and forgetting what in my view, was more important: fair treatment in the light of severe accusations with not a single screenshot of anything to prove it happened.

Not a single guild member was given a fair chance to plead their case or even be told of the case. There was zero intention to even inform them of the situation (“Oh when they log in and find out they are guildless then if they ask we will say.”)  We could not even prove the RP happened, at all. To simply listen to somebody say “they did it” and immediately condemn and punish without doing any solid investigative work or even thinking about how incredulous the situation was, to me, simply unacceptable.

I reprimanded the officers for taking guildmates to task on such a flimsy case without even giving them the chance to speak, or even notifying them of the situation, or even waiting for me, the guildmaster, to get online. I repeatedly said there was a distinct lack of evidence, NOBODY was given a chance to even be notified of the situation and the entire accusation was extremely strange and hard to believe in.

If the RP did occur in /em in a public RP hub why was there not a single screenshot from anyone? The reason given: “The chat scrolled so far up by the time I realized what happened I couldn’t SS” - surely meant there were other RPers present, pushing the chat up until it disappeared. Yet during the 6 months not a single soul approached us to report the inappropriate RP. Social Media did not blow up with denunciations. Furthermore, why lob the accusations now, six months after the fact? 

There was no victim in the situation to protect, no second Rper whose identity needed to be hidden, the accusations were about the guildie RPing with an NPC of his own make in public. The accusations said the guildie was literally RPing with himself with an emote that deliberately notes that said NPC was 14, who does that? On top of everything, the guild member was NOT banned by Blizzard after posting something so supposedly explicit in public. Did not a single player who was present at the popular RP hub that evening report him? Nobody freaked out? Nobody took offence? Nobody blasted it into public screaming about this guy and pressuring us to do something about him within 24hrs of the emote happening? This supposedly happened in public and it sat in absolute silence for 6 months until the accuser brought it up in idle conversation. This is not the Moon Guard I know.

These were questions I could not answer and I found the entire situation extremely dubious. But in the end I was unable to sway any of the officers who in my opinion, simply read, freaked out, believed. Given the pressure I was under the guildie remained kicked without being given any chance to speak and he was summarily chased out of the game.

===

What followed in the years after.

Years later, when Hillsbradian was kicked from the guild for terrible behavior. He cropped 7~ screenshots from the heated 5 hour conversation to frame me as ‘protecting a pedo’ and ‘condoning rape RP’ as revenge. And much like the officers of old, the majority of Moon Guard read the 7~ screenshots, did not ask questions, and simply condemned. 

What followed was a series of unfortunate discoveries:

 That the guildmate that Yunalis claimed “was aware of the situation” was only aware of the situation because Yunalis herself informed him, and the guildmate chose to not be involved.

That the accuser’s original intention was to get Tyrion kicked out of the guild because he supposedly crossed her earlier, and that they were once RP partner and he crossed her over something.

That the accuser has had a habit of accusing those who have crossed her for ‘being a pedo’, as down the years I have met other players who were once her friends, but were overnight accused under similar circumstances with no evidence.

The above unfortunate facts were all discovered years later and I did not feel the need to dig them all up. By then most of the original officers had left the game/guild. I was suffering from anxiety and simply wanted to forget and move on, but some things could not be shrugged off.

And thus here we are now, 7+ years down after the incident, still fighting the uphill battle.

===

Conclusion

To this day I do not know whether Tyrion genuinely ‘did it’ or not, or whether this was just another case of the somebody trying to destroy somebody that crossed them. But from all evidence (or lackthereof) to me, years down, it still sounds like a (very) successful attempt at character assassination. I can say that if there was a shred, a single shred, of tangible evidence that the inappropriate RP did occur, we would not be here debating, I would not be here fighting. It would have been a very open and shut case. But there was none, nobody was able to prove anything. My knowledge of the server did not match up with events that played out.

So did I “defend a rapist”, “defend a pedo”? No, I didn’t. The only thing I tried to defend, and failed to, was fair treatment. That a player, any player, when accused of a crime, should be informed of said accusations, and be given a chance to even speak on it - whether it be defense, admittance, apology - their case investigated thoroughly, before being judged.

===

Epilogue

4-5 years later I ran into Tyrion again on his alt, I was able to identify him because he was the only one on my ignore list. I was unprepared to meet him again, Via a mediator I was able to speak with him cordially. The player had fled the game from harassment and fear, but had returned. He discovered my treatment and summarily wrote his side of the events for clarity: 

https://imgur.com/a/cuErgwU

[wrecking-man]

Komi-san Can’t Adventure Chapter 5 - The King’s Announcement

Click here to read on AO3.

Ah, Itan's Town Square. Now that was the true central hub of the city. Only goods of the absolute highest order were traded there, with the natural exception of adventuring necessities, as one might have guessed... Well, unless of course one was willing to risk the black market.

The square was packed to the brim with eager citizens as the time of the king's announcement drew near. He was quite the beloved figure; virtually seen by all as a man of utmost moral character and dignity. It was from the second-floor balcony of a massive stone watchtower that he would soon give his royal address.

The royal minstrels were playing an upbeat, exciting tune on their horns to amp up the mood of the populace; they all wore iron chainmail armor, with a fine red and yellow silk cloth draped over it emblazoned with the king's coat of arms on the front and back.

Smack dab in the center of everything on the ground level of the square was a glorious, four-tiered, 25-foot fountain made primarily of marble. There were three large animal-head ornaments evenly spaced along the lowest inner tier, with precious metals etched in to catch the eye. The first was a lion, the chosen symbol of humanity; the second was an elk, to symbolize the elves; and thirdly but certainly not lastly was a bear, the symbol of the dwarves. An alliance of these three races were the founders of Itan some decades earlier. Citizens and travelers alike would often toss in coins, wishing for good fortune.

This is where our virtuous trio of adventurers currently stood.

Yes, it was there that Tadano had suddenly grabbed Najimi by the back of the collar, and pulled them into a loose, but unyielding headlock. A moment just before, Najimi had made a run for the fountain, fully intent on diving inside to collect a bit of so-called ‘walking around money’.

“Do you want to get cursed?” Tadano warned, “Because this is how you get cursed.”

Najimi tried to wiggle free, placing both hands on Tadano's arms in an attempt to pull loose his grip, but to no avail. Tadano, despite all of his average qualities, was at too high of a level for the meager level 1 godling to manage an escape. “It's fine, it's fine. You're just paranoid,” they bargained, before promptly resigning from the futility of it all. They shrugged, admitting defeat. “Ugh. Being level 1 sucks.”

“You'll just have to deal with it for now,” Tadano said... Which was easy for him to say since he was level 30―the average adventurer level.

“Thank you, Dad, for exp share,” Najimi prayed, shedding a single tear. Their unspoken plan was to do dangerous quests and just sit back while raking in all the experience while Tadano and Komi provided cover. It was foolproof.

Komi smiled (in her heart) off to the side as she attentively watched the events unfolding before her. It somewhat kept her mind off the immense sea of people they were surrounded by.

That said, it was as if the three of them were in a bubble, completely isolated from the rest of the crowd. Nobody dared stand within several feet of the demon goddess in the flesh before them. Komi wasn't aware of their reasons, but she was relieved all the same. As a result, however, quite a few eyes from higher up were upon her.

[What is my level?] Komi asked in writing. She wasn't new to power rankings, which typically ranged from F to SS―or from copper to adamantite―but actual levels were unknown to all but the gods and their apostles.

Tadano hadn't actually thought about checking her levels until now. He just knew she gave off a nice, strong aura. So he had a look. Strength? 100. Magic Power? 100. Insight? 100. Stamina? Intelligence? Agility? Willpower? All 100. Just who is this girl!? He broke out into a cold sweat. “Y-you're level 100.”

[Is that high?]

“S-super high.” Tadano could hardly believe it, but it made sense that Todd would choose someone this strong to help reign in his precious child.

Komi did a modest fist pump. She had no frame of reference. She just knew she trained a lot over those lonesome years and was happy that her level was ‘super high’ as Tadano had put it. She would probably faint if she were to learn just how strong that was compared to the average person.

Before long, the music finally died down and the king made his appearance.

King Arcadeus was an old man with a short and neatly-groomed white beard. Despite his advanced age, he was far from the withered appearance one might have expected of someone as old as he was.

To one side, was his most trusted advisor and negotiator, who simply went by the name Lackey. He was a buff, equally-bearded young man with a proclivity for wearing nothing but a red speedo, gauntlets, and boots. Atop his head was a dark brown mohawk, which matched the color of his beard and thick body hair. In a past life, he was a so-called ‘street fighter’.

To the king's other side was General Thinks, whom was also held in the king's utmost esteem. He was clad in bulky titanium armor with the exception of his head, which was instead covered in messy brown hair. On his hands, rather than armor, were specially-made white gloves. Through his messy brown hair, his piercing eyes were intently focused on the crowds down below, particularly in Tadano, Komi, and Najimi's general direction. They couldn't have made it easier for him to spot them if they tried.

King Arcadeus held his right hand up in front of his throat, and used an enchanted ring on his middle finger to amplify his voice so that it could be heard by everyone throughout the city. The flyers giving advance notice were more due to his high approval among the people―to give everyone a chance to actually see him giving the speech, rather than missing out.

“My dearest citizens of Einai,” the king began, “it is my highest privilege to be with you here today...”

Thunderous applause erupted from the crowds. As well as a few ‘Kya!’'s, ‘King Arcadeus-sama!’'s, and the like.

“Now, I have gathered all of you here today to personally give you the most blessed of news,” the king continued as he took in the applause, “The oracles have bestowed upon me a new prophecy, one detailing the appearance of a new fledgling god walking among us!”

“Yech,” Najimi complained. This was, for them, the most unwanted kind of attention.

Tadano chuckled to himself, noting the excited cheers of the people they were surrounded by. “Sounds like you have a lot of potential fans.” He was really rubbing the salt in.

“I'll pass!” Najimi firmly whispered and crossed their arms. They wanted to wait at least a while before their debut as a god. How undignified would it be for people to know of them as a god when they were only level 1? And that's not even considering that it wouldn't be giving the other gods much face either.

The king's speech continued for several minutes, heaping praise upon praise to the gods, and eventually finished.

[Are we going to leave him hanging?] Komi asked. She didn't understand why Najimi would want to conceal their godhood from the king. Working with the king was bound to have plenty of perks.

Najimi thought on it a while before answering, “Well it's not as though I have anything against him.” They shook their head. “But let me ask you this. If you were a goddess, and you were the one he wanted so desperately to meet... Would you be so eager to offer yourself up? With all of the unwanted attention that would bring? I'm talking public appearances, speeches, negotiations with neighboring kingdoms...”

Komi trembled at the thought and shook her head frantically before quickly writing on her book and hiding behind it. [I see your point.]

Najimi pressed another button on their controller, which made the sound of a stomach growling, then playing it off as real. “Oh, haha. Hear that? Who else is hungry?”

Oi. Tadano judged silently.

“Hoooh, you're hungry?” Agari said in an uncharacteristically dark tone as she literally appeared from within Komi's shadow. The aura she gave off was that of an assassin in the night, “Well then, it's my time to shine.”

Eh???

One scene transition later.

“Tadaaaa~! This is the shop I recommend,” Agari said, radiating her blissful excitement as she gestured toward the restaurant. The name was Mutton Darou. You could tell because it was written above the entrance in giant, bold calligraphy.

Najimi was thoroughly impressed, as they were actually not expecting much. “Hey, isn't Darou that famous chain restaurant?”

Najimi had actually managed to do a small amount of research while playing around earlier, as it so happened.

“Yes!” Agari beamed.

“Ah, but is it alright? I heard their portions are quite big and oily.”

[Let's go!] Komi insisted. She was ready.

Instant reply! Tadano was shocked.

Agari's personality shifted back into gourmand mode. “Let's see, the Darou chain has been picking up some fame lately, so normal people think they have quite a solid image established," she read from her notes of the place in a notebook she carried with her. “The kind where men come to eat alone... But that is not really the case. It's okay even if girls come alone. Did you hear about Darou girls? I come here a lot, but the taste, unexpectedly, isn't that strong. Actually...”

Agari-san!?

Agari noticed the three staring at her and panicked. She let her love of food run amok again. “Ah, IIIII'm sorry! I always say t-t-too much when I talk about f-f-food...”

“I-is that so?” Tadano replied. Good, it's the usual Agari-san...

“Well, that's an unexpected side of you, Agari-chan,” Najimi teased lightheartedly, “Ah, aren't there some rules in this kind of shops? I heard it from Maa-kun.”

She silently judged, and didn't respond.

In a word, it was quaint. It couldn’t compare to the beauty of some other places nearby, but it held its own unique charm that kept customers coming back for more. The restaurant was built out of stone and wood, and resembled a tavern more than anything else. There were three sets of tables and benches lined up across from the bar counter, all made out of hickory wood from the trees grown in the carefully managed forest just a few miles outside of the city.

“What are you getting, Agari-chan?” Najimi practically yelled, “Shall I get the same thing as you?”

Najimi was startled by an intense feeling of pressure on their shoulder, where Agari had lightly placed her hand.

“Guilty,” Agari proclaimed coldly, before walking to the counter, leaving Najimi in a state of confusion.

Mutton Darou’s iron rule #1 – Thou shalt not speak unnecessarily.

Komi passed easily.

#2 – Thou shalt immediately take a number and promptly take your seat.

A line was already forming behind Tadano, and they were growing more impatient by the second.

“S-sorry!” he said anxiously and quickly caught up with the others.

#3 – Thou shalt uphold manners, respect the shopkeeper, and wait with peace of mind.

Agari had been meditating from the moment she took a seat.

“What are you doing Agari-chan...?” Najimi asked, still thrown for a loop.

Silence.

Najimi shrugged and reached for their soundboard remote, only for Agari to slap it from their hand when they went to press a button. Najimi pouted.

#4 – Thou shalt not play around at the table.

A buff, intimidating older man with a scruffy goatee approached with his arms firmly crossed. There was a bandana covering the top of his head, and a towel draped over his shoulders. His eyes were concealed by glasses with darkened lenses.

S-so this is one of those tough shopkeepers...

“Side dishes?” the shopkeeper asked in a voice below that of a whisper, after a period of silence.

So quiet!

“Toughmuttonfullofoilbitspicyandsomeveggies,” Agari chanted with calm conviction.

A chant?!

The shopkeeper said something, but neither Tadano nor Najimi could hear it.

“What did I just hear?? T-Tadano-kun?” Najimi whispered.

“Don’t ask me...” Tadano whispered back, though he was more or less able to guess. “Ah, then, I’ll have the same?”

“I-I’ll have that too...” Najimi nervously added. The two of them were dripping with nervous sweat.

“And the young lady?” the shopkeeper continued.

What are you gonna do, Komi-san? Tadano peered over directly to his left, where she was seated.

Komi calmly looked the shopkeeper in the eyes and after a brief moment of silence, some kind of understanding was reached. He nodded and cheerfully got to work fulfilling their orders.

He understood!! Tadano was in awe.

That was the empathy between two people bad at communicating.

Agari’s, Najimi’s, and Tadano’s orders were presented first. Their wooden plates were piled over with spicy, oily mutton—and a generous serving of assorted veggies such as roasted asparagus, creamed spinach, and radish slaw.

Tadano and Najimi were united in their hearts in this moment. This... This is too much... They looked at it with hearts full of fear. Could they eat it all?

Komi’s order came shortly thereafter. It was somehow beautiful. The way the mutton and veggies were neatly arranged couldn’t be described any other way. In addition to that, the shopkeeper also gently placed in front of her a tiny pecan tart on a separate plate―on the house.

Shopkeeper!?

Komi delicately tied her hair back into a ponytail to keep it from getting it in the way, and began eating without delay. She was totally oblivious to Tadano and Najimi’s misgivings.

The two watched Komi in awe as she ate her beautiful meal... beautifully.

For her, each bite was pure bliss. She was completely enamored by the rich, new flavors that danced in her mouth. So much so that it shielded her from the fact that she had drawn a small crowd of admirers.

By the time she was finished, Agari was finishing up as well. Tadano and Najimi were so distracted that they had yet to even begin.

The shopkeeper blushed as he basked in the moment, proudly.

Shopkeeper!?

And then Komi noticed... All eyes were on her. No fewer than 15 people. She blushed, and felt a wave of uneasiness overtake her. She was certain she must have done something wrong. Najimi did say something about rules earlier, after all.

She abruptly got up from her seat and presented her plates back to the shopkeeper before walking back outside.

Iron rule #5 – Thou shalt return the plates once you finish eating and immediately give up your seat.

Excluding Agari, those still seated were united in their hearts at this moment. The food is getting cold...

“That was heavenly,” Agari said to herself, fully satisfied with her meal.

Back outside.

“That was delicious!” Agari beamed, clapping her hands together in front of her chest.

“Yea...” Najimi agreed in a nauseated tone while patting their stomach, “but I think I ate too much...”

Tadano kept his hand over his mouth. It felt as though it would come up if he spoke.

Komi looked over to them, she had been waiting patiently for their return. [Let’s come again sometime.]

Tadano, Najimi, and Agari smiled at her.

Until Tadano and Najimi were hit by another wave of nausea. “No... We think we’ll pass on that,” they said in unison, shocking Komi and Agari both.

But in the end it would become a habit, and they would go again before long.

Click here to read on AO3. 

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#komi san wa komyushou desu #komi san can't communicate #komi can't communicate #fanfiction #writing #komi #kca #kca 5 #the king's announcement #fun #komi shouko #tadano hitohito #osana najimi #agari himiko #general thinks #long post

[somediyprojects]

The Upper Valley of Vermont and New Hampshire stitched and designed by Rebecca Weber. 

It was time for a tutorial on the local fibercraft blog I co-write, and I thought it would be the perfect opportunity for a locally-themed project, the kind I would worry was uninteresting to most readers here. I settled on a map of the area in blackwork embroidery and set to work. Over there you’ll find information about blackwork and stitching this pattern; here I want to discuss the design process.

Originally I wanted to partition the map into what we really think of as towns, which are smaller, more numerous, and more irregular than what the state governments regard as towns. The large boxy shapes date back to at least 1860, though, and I determined it would take me months to draw other boundaries. Drawing my own borders would also result in many arbitrary decisions about what was in or out of town.

I also didn’t intend to include 46 towns in the final map, but again, restricting would have required arbitrary decisions. The towns I included comprise the beat of the local newspaper, so any arbitrariness to the boundary is well in the past now.

To make the town outlines I imported an area map into MacStitch (of which I still owe you a full review) and traced the edges with backstitch. Deleting the cross-stitches was easy since none of them were black, so I was able to simply remove each color and its stitches from the palette. I then adjusted a number of the edge lines so all town corners would be at grid corners, in case anyone wants to make their own arbitrary exclusions.

I asked for and was granted permission to use fillings from Kim Brody Salazar’s wonderful blackwork fillings collection, but between asking and receiving I had the idea to make fill patterns out of the initial(s) of each town, and couldn’t let go of it. That meant 46 different fill patterns, 7 of which had to be built from the letter C. That is not a letter that has much difference between upper- and lowercase, or print and cursive. Also difficult were 3 Ws plus WF and WW. Oddly enough, the solitary F and E gave me more trouble than, say, the 4 Ss. Many evenings of sketching while watching the hubs play Skyrim passed as I designed letter fills and then slotted them into their locations.

A few more evenings passed while I stitched the beginning of my sample, shown above. I don’t have time to continue to be so dogged about this, so it will be some months before I’m done, but you’ll see it again then. I’m working on 32-count linen (over 2, for an effective count of 16) with a single strand of black embroidery floss (DMC 310). The stitching I’ve done is all six strands of a 2–2.5 foot length of floss.

Map pattern

Alphabet pattern

#cross stitch #pattern #x #self drafted #blackwork

[ranger-report]

OPINION: Stop Making Batman Games

With the weekend came the DC FanDome event, in which Warner Brothers and DC Comics held an online event specifically for their fans in order to generate hype about certain franchises and media they produce. While most of what was shown received positive responses -- the first trailer for The Batman is the clear highlight -- there’s been a little bit of apprehension surrounding two of the video games receiving mega hype treatment: Gotham Knights, and Suicide Squad: Kill The Justice League. Gotham Knights opens up by telling us Batman has died, and he’s left a message for his former sidekicks: protect Gotham City at all costs. Meanwhile, the Suicide Squad is seen in a battered Metropolis, tasked with assassinating what looks like Superman Turned Evil as an alien invasion rages around them. Both trailers offer massive, open-world co-op action featuring some of DC Comic’s finest B-grade heroes. Sure, Harley Quinn is on the rise and is arguably an A-list hitter now, but when it comes to bankable characters, Batgirl, Robin, Nightwing, Red Hood, Deadshot, King Shark, Captain Boomerang, they’re not big stringers. But they do have something in common:

Batman.

While Gotham Knights is clearly the more obvious game between the two to draw from the Dark Knight’s influence, Suicide Squad has heavily featured Batman as a character and influence over recent years. Harley Quinn is a Batman character, the Caped Crusader appeared in the Suicide Squad film played by Ben Affleck, and developer Rocksteady -- who is making the SS game -- reached infamy for developing the Arkham Trilogy. Suicide Squad: Kill the Justice League has even been confirmed to be set in the Arkham universe (surprisingly, Gotham Knights is not, despite the premise based on a dead Batman, something which happened at the end of Arkham Knight). Kill the Justice League even goes one step further by setting the game in Metropolis, battling Batman’s usual heroic foil. This looks to be for all intents and purposes like a treasure trove for dedicated DC gamers, but it’s my opinion that they simply look -- and feel -- incredibly tired.

Once upon a time, Rocksteady was rumored to be developing an open-world Superman game. We haven’t gotten one of those since 2006 with Superman Returns, whose XBOX version was regarded with decent praise. But instead they’ve turned their sights to the Suicide Squad. Granted, Warner Brothers is doing their best to make the Squad A Thing, considering the first film and now the upcoming I’m-Not-A-Sequel-I’m-A-Reboot-But-Also-A-Sequel The Suicide Squad which is being directed by James Gunn, who made the Guardians of the Galaxy A Thing. Desperation plays poorly in hindsight, which all of WB’s mandated edits to both Batman v Superman and Justice League have wrought. Hell, even the first Suicide Squad film had its guts wrangled about, prompting many to request an “Ayer Cut” from director David Ayer the same way they’ve been hounding for the Justice League Snyder Cut (which looks amazing, btw). But regardless of intent, what’s clear is that WB Games isn’t ready to let go of the Batman Influence, and instead of taking risks like making a goddamn Superman game, they’re going with what feels like the next evolution in Batman gaming: Sidekicks and Spinoffs.

I hear you, I hear you. Maybe I’m a little bitter. Maybe. But since 1986 there have be 41 Batman-starring video games, not counting those released in which Bats had either a supporting role or a cameo. Since 1979, Superman has starred in a mere 17. Batman also features heavily in the recent Injustice fighting games from Netherrealm (creators of Mortal Kombat) which features, strangely enough, an evil Superman. So now we have two new WB Games which either rely on Batman’s influence or feature an evil Superman which needs to be stopped.

Guys. Come on. Just. Just fucking stop.

Where’s the open world Superman game which promises the experience of playing the Man of Steel, protecting the city -- nay, the world -- from an incoming alien invasion. One which could not only spell the destruction of the human race, but also cause significant damage to the Man of Steel himself. Juggling protecting the Earth and keeping himself alive, Superman is tasked with handling this invasion, featuring a number of notable cosmic villains in DC Comics. The player has to manage a health bar for Metropolis, ensuring the city receives as little damage as possible, or aids in rescue work around the city helping citizens and saving lives. Between this, Superman handles incoming warships and invaders, who can zap him with powerful beams. Yes, he can take a lot of damage, but they’re dealing a lot as well. Superman will not go down easily. But being Superman has never been about protecting himself; it’s about protecting others.

Think about it! Skip the RPG leveling system where you upgrade powers and abilities! You’re already Superman, you already have the powers! Now you just need to use them, balance them, combine them to weaken enemies or strengthen the city. The opening chunk of the game introduces you to Metropolis and how it works. Imagine flying through the city at high speed, listening, searching, helping, just being the Big Blue Boy Scout, and then without warning there it is: lights in the sky. You fly up out of the atmosphere to tackle the problem, but the problem is so big, it’s everywhere. Now the game opens up: it’s not just Metropolis, but the whole world at stake. Zoom between major cities as hubs, with large maps for each one. Metropolis is the stand in for New York, but also London, Moscow, Egypt. Imagine zooming over the Great Pyramids battling alien invaders as the Man of Steel defending not just America, but the entire fucking world from the greatest threat ever since to humanity. Throw in a few Justice League cameos! It writes itself!

But we get two new Batman-related games instead.

Fucking hooray.

#wb games #dc comics #batman #gotham knights #suicide squad #kill the justice league #rocksteady #wb games montreal #dc fandome #arkham asylum #video games #opinion #ck burch #ruby ranger #ranger report

[starryheavenstos]

I'll do a full paper Mario thread when I beat the game but n9w that I've put at least a good 5-10 hours into the game, here are a few thoughts I have on it.

Pros

-music is fantastic

-visuals (especially cinematics) very good

-writing is good and funny

-battles are challenging

Cons

-sometimes it feels like they could have gone steps further to make it more like 64 and ttyd and then I get sad and just want to play those two

-handholding from Olivia is really rough

-very few unique characters which is disappointing

-dont wanna comment too much on story yet since it seems to have potential

-my first partner bobomb is just...God why couldn't they make them unique right now I feel no attachment to him and again it just makes me want to play 64 and ttyd

-weapons breaking is a minor annoyance

-finding toads is both tedious and fun

-toad town feels like they were trying to recreate toad Town in 64 or rogueport in ttyd as a hub town but there's nothing fun about it and I feel no desire to come back there, no side stories or fun stuff at all so far

All in all I am still enjoying the game and it is loads better then ss and color but where it fails is disappointing because you can see it start to have the makings of a game like 64 or ttyd and just fall flat and it just makes me sad

#paper mario #paper mario origami king #nintendo #video games #mario #nintendo switch #switch

[dippedanddripped]

Stüssy’s official launch date is anything but concrete. Don Letts, the musician, filmmaker and OG-affiliate of the brand says it all started in 1984, but Shawn Stüssy first remembers scratching his infamous punky scrawl in 1979. Without an official logo, per se, Shawn was making surfboards and branding them with a signature scribble -- a practice that, though he was unaware at the time, teemed with potential. He later applied it to T-shirts, earned cult acclaim, and a few years down the line, what is arguably the original streetwear brand was in business.

Underground culture was inherent to Shawn’s work, as was a William Burroughs-esque aptitude for combining scenes, ideas and tastes in simple, effortless clothing. Hip-hop, reggae, graffiti, surfing, skating, punk: a span of influences and urban cultures were brought together to create graphic-heavy garb, at a time when these influences weren’t as widely catered to. Before Stüssy, the youth were reinterpreting, borrowing and cutting garments up -- or, in the case of those seeking out higher-brow attire, stealing Ralph Lauren Polo. Stüssy filled a void; his work reflected what people wanted to buy.

Shawn’s ideas developed organically, spurred on by the ever-expanding network of individuals he came across. “He just kept on meeting like-minded people that were interested in similar things,” Stüssy’s former creative director Paul Mittleman says. “It just kept on going.” The International Stüssy Tribe, a club founded by Shawn, was the beating heart of the brand. One of the original members, Alex Turnbull AKA Alex Baby, remembers the first time he and Shawn met. Originally from London, then a hip-hop DJ in New York, Alex was hanging out with Jules Gayton, a DJ and part-time assistant to Jean-Michel Basquiat. They were routinely flying between London and New York, shuttling rare record collections across the pond. On one visit, Paul invited them over to the Stüssy warehouse. “It was basically a couple of rails of clothes in a space for something else, and Paul was just sitting there,” says Alex. “I remember leaving with a T-shirt and a pair of the beach pants, and they were just mind-blowing.” Never before had he seen such hip-hop amenable clothing. Not long after, Shawn would make a visit to London, attend a nightclub Alex was playing, and initiate six or so members with the now-infamous tribe jackets, complete with logos, names on the front, and ‘Staff’ stitched on them. Not your average hiring process.

With time, the tribe grew. In London, there was hairdresser James Lebon, Gimme 5 founder Michael Kopelman, streetwear scenius Barnzley Armitage, The Clash’s Mick Jones, Big Audio Dynamite’s Don Letts, and jungle pioneer Goldie. In New York, skater Jeremy Henderson, hip-hop A&R rep Dante Ross. In LA, thrasher Tony Converse. Not to forget streetwear kingpin Hiroshi Fujiwara in Tokyo. It was a network of taste-makers, skate rats and musical vanguards, spread across what Alex considers the world’s most culturally adept cities. “With the exception of Kingston, Jamaica, of course,” he’s quick to note. Through his tribe, Shawn had innocently stumbled upon and mastered a communication method that a good proportion of brands are still eager to decode today. “Shawn even pre-empted the whole 'viral’ thing, foregoing big budget advertising and trusting in the organic process of word of mouth,” Don Letts remarks.

Profiling the brand in the 90s, BBC 4’s The Look interviewed Shawn, as well as some of his associates in an effort to unpick the fashion phenomenon. Shawn’s modest attempt to explain his craft was “pants and shirts… and jackets and hats.” But behind the brevity of his response lay a firm confidence; after all, his formula of quality over quantity had garnered enough interest to warrant a BBC feature. “A lot of people collect them -- like these, there’s ten of them, and some people buy every single colour”, explains then-Stüssy’s store manager James Jebbia, pointing out the ‘S’ logo baseball caps. As you’ll likely know, he would later go on to found Supreme, streetwear’s eminent household name. And just as Stüssy had done before, sampling, ripping and re-appropriating became key components of the Supreme creative vocabulary. The former’s infamous interlocking Ss, a humorous ape of Chanel, would foreshadow the latter’s cease-and-desist Louis Vuitton rip skate decks. Looking back, it was oddly prescient, given that both would work with top-tier conglomerate fashion houses years down the line.

Paul draws a parallel between Shawn’s work and 80s postmodern art: just as Jeff Koons placed submerged basketballs in the gallery space, Shawn placed lyrics from American hip-hop duo EPMD on clothing. ‘I get goosebumps when the bass line thumps’, reads a now-coveted T-shirt. In introducing aesthetics and cultures deemed low-brow into public consciousness, Shawn’s graphic style also shared much with graffiti writing, which, as Alex is keen to note, was still considered mere vandalism at the time: “You were still a criminal, it wasn’t accepted as art,” he says. Regardless of public opinion, that confluence of cultures it implied made it widely wearable, as Dante Ross echoes: “We could wear it to a thugged-out party, to a trendy event or to go skate in, all depending on how we wore it.”

At a time when streetwear is unarguably ubiquitous, it’s easy to forget that streetwear was counterculture. “Without Shawn, there would be no streetwear”, says Ross Wilson, an acclaimed streetwear collector who sold a 1,000+ piece Supreme archive in 2018. “Shawn Stüssy is the reason I became immersed in this culture in the first place.” And it doesn’t seem like Stüssy’s contemporary relevance is in decline -- if anything, the opposite is true. ALYX creative director Matthew Williams grew up a Stüssy fan, citing it as “the first fashion brand outside of huge sportswear brands that I became aware of." He now regularly collaborates with Kim Jones at Dior, and his work featured alongside Shawn’s graphics in the house’s Pre-Fall 20 menswear collection. And then there’s Kim himself, who grew up working at Gimme 5, one of Stüssy’s first UK distributors. “He’s part of the community; he’s not just an observer,” Paul says.

While today the internet has allowed everyone, wherever they’re from, the opportunity to engage with street culture, things were trickier in the 80s. But despite the developments since, Stüssy has far from lost its lustre. If anything, the past decade has reiterated Stüssy’s position as a subcultural fixture. Whether throwing parties with Boiler Room or spotlighting Kiko Kostadinov, Stüssy has been – and still is – a driving force in contemporary culture and fashion. Nonetheless, its core values remain: quality clothing, radical graphics, and international community dedicated to representing the brand. As the network has expanded, it’s only grown stronger. The launch of Stüssy’s London Chapter store was a case in point: a BBQ attended by old disciples and a fresh batch of new ones. One of the newcomers to the brand, Jordan Vickors, is grateful for its illustrious history. “It’s been my home since the second I joined; everything Shawn, Alex, Goldie, Paul have built over the years has provided me with a hub of creativity and energy. I can’t thank them enough.” Indeed, as a print on a particularly iconic Stüssy T-shirt, referencing Bob Marley’s “No Woman, No Cry”, reads: ‘In this great future, you can’t forget your past.’

#stussy #streetwear blog #surfwear #fashion blog

[rohittpathania-blog]

5 Best Places Where You Can Legally Download Free Music

5 Best Places Where You Can Legally Download Free Music

we have provided this review for some of the 5 best places you can legally find free music.

These websites provide you free music on mp3 format of higher quality.

Here is the list of place you get free music downloads

SOUNDCLOUD

FM

JAMENDO

BANDCAMP

AMAZON

SOUNDCLOUD

Soundcloud is an amazing place to find and download free music directly from artists.

While you can download free music from SoundCloud, some artist allows their music for streaming & some make their music available for paid download.

Also, as some music are free to download instantly, some required free tasks to be done. Some music will require you to like a social media page or profile etc before you can have the chance of downloading the music.

You will need to follow some process to find free music as you are exploring Soundcloud. One of the common & easy process is to search the music that is under the “free” tags or navigate across the Creative Commons section.

Once you found music/songs on SoundCloud, beside the sharing button at the bottom, you will find the download or buy link.

If the artist’s preference for his song distribution is free then you can download without paying. But you must have an account before downloading

Downloading the artist’s music will make you become his follower automatically. Although, you can choose to unfollow the artist.

As SoundCloud has plenty of content, it is easier to locate free downloads. But free downloads can be difficult to find sometimes.

Before downloading songs from SoundCloud, they can be streamed first. Downloaded songs are available in mp3 extension.

You get the SoundCloud mobile app here

LAST.FM

Another best place to download free music is Last.fm.

Last.fm provides music streaming service and free music tracks downloads.

You can find free songs by exploring the categories. But no solutions to find free music easily (I.e you can’t sort the downloadable songs) rather, you explore the whole list.

You will probably spend much of your time searching for downloadable tracks. But this will be helpful if you are looking for newly released songs.

Also, there are thousands of music on Last.fm for streaming which you can enjoy.

Downloading tracks from Last.fm requires no login before download and require only a click to start the download.

As finding the downloadable tracks is hard, once you find free music you can preview it before starting the download.

Downloaded songs are provided in mp3 formats only.

JAMENDO MUSIC

Jamendo is not just a music download site but a great platform where fans & artists are being connected.

At Jamendo, the available free songs for downloads are from the artist who has willingly want to make their music available to masses for free. That’s creative common licensing.

You can access the Jamendo platform via a web browser or its mobile available for iOS, Windows & Android.

A great place to find free music for your videos is Jamendo. But music isn’t available for free when using in videos.

By viewing the most popular music one of the easiest ways to find newly released songs at Jamendo or using the latest music filter.

You can search for an artist’s name to see if there is any of his music that is available for free downloads.

You can stream music if you choose not to download. There is no need to log in before downloading. But some features are available after logging in.

Downloaded music is available in mp3 format.

It’s easier to find free music & songs at Jamendo.

You can also use the Jamendo mobile app

Read also, download videos using “SS”

BANDCAMP

One of the biggest places where artist distributes their songs to the audience an earn a living from their talent is Bandcamp. It’s another biggest place for free music download.

However, a lot of music is still available for free. Free downloads are available on the “name-your-price” basis. That’s is when you want to download the free music you write “0” in the payment box and begin your download. This happens only if the artist chooses to distribute his song at zero cost.

Also, you can choose to pay the artist. You write the amount of your choice and pay instead of writing “0”. But note that you specifically choose not to pay the artist & not the artist completely offered the music for free.

You can easily navigate to the latest music by opening the tags page. tracks aren’t just available in a particular genre but you can navigate to options like locations.

You may found there’s no availability for a minimum price on an entire album, but the “Buy Digital Album” option is available to get the free songs downloads.

In addition, the artists have the opportunity of creating their custom page on Bandcamp. This page always contains their music previews, biography, reviews & more.

This is another way you can notice which artist usually have free or paid songs.

Bandcamp allows you to freely download full albums of songs with many tracks.

No user account is required when you want to download from Bandcamp.

If you use iOS device, you can use their mobile app & Android device users can get it here

AMAZON MUSIC

Here is another place where you can legally find & download free music, Amazon.

There are more than 50 million songs on amazon to stream.

You can stream those songs & save them to your device without paying a dime. But not all music is available for free downloads.

As there are millions of music available at amazon, You can filter the free music downloads.

when you select a genre you will see the available free songs and music.

Also, sorting them by popularity, alphabetically, album, date, length, reviews, & others will help you find the music for free downloads.

There’s a section meant to find free music for downloads.

You can preview the songs before saving them to your device. It requires you to log in to your Amazon account before downloading it to your computer. You will add the music to your cart & check out just like when you purchase anything but it attracts no charges.

After that, you will be provided a link for downloading the songs.

Remember, not every song on amazon are available for free purchase or downloads.

CONCLUSION

Yes, you have read the 5 best places to get free music download.

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#music #download #download music

[gaycey-sketchit]

(Gary anon) And nothing to compensate for it either; SM at least continued with sequels and SW/SS had DLC. (Hopefully by that time, Delphox and Chesnaught get upgrades so they can finally join Greninja) Along with a Masters 8 feature poster; one with all the companions shown is feeling more and more likely. (I believe Cilan's VA; who only role was him, has a similar situation to Tracey's. But he recently has done work for "Masters" so he shouldn't hard to bring on.)

.

(Part 2) (Tracey, if he by some miracle gets voiced, I'm not sure about a focus episode unless bundled with someone. Same with Max, unless May gets resurrected. Misty feels like she could be after Cilan) I found them amusing at points, but was overall just neutral about TRio. Their performance with Ash at the Indigo League did sour me on them for a while. (Back then, them being more serious in BW did feel like a breath of fresh air and the small arc with Meowth was nice;)

(Part 3) (but it did lead to another problem with their writing until it got ironed out by XY and especially SM. I don't blame their fans for feeling that JN is their 'worst' performing series; even with their focus episodes being prime TRio) And yet, some fans want him to parade around his Alola title when he was taught repeatedly not to get a swell head when there's more stuff to come. (And since the League was the first of its kind and wasn't broadcast worldwide like other regions,)

(Part 4) (most outside Alola not knowing he's Champion really isn't that strange. I know we miss the continuity from OS-DP of Ash's progress being publicly known, but his personality now isn't going to go around telling that isn't prompted. Journeys seems to be "fixing" that though with PWC) The eventual question for Ash is going to be "What does it mean to be at the top? Will the challenges that push you to where you are cease? Like Leon once thought?" (Anything for less)

(Part 5) (headaches for the stuff you enjoy) Heh, this is something that is speculated each series, and yet Journeys bares the most uncertainty for the future. (They carried the anime for overseas fans for years and we thank them heavily for it.) Hmm, if your computer has the space, maybe try your luck with torrents instead? The group that makes the subs for Journeys puts theirs on a hub that's a lot safer than going to most ad-ridden sites.

Yeah. RIP to Kalos.

Yeah, the other two Kalos starters really got shafted. Hopefully when/if Kalos remakes happen in the future they get something.

Oh, that'd be neat!

Ah. I wasn't aware Cilan's Japanese VA did voice work for Masters! (Of course, there's no way I could've known this, considering I'm a dub watcher and I play Masters with the English voices. What I do know is Blue has the same English VA as the blond guy who works in Cerise's lab.)

Yeah, I guess we'll have to just... see what happens.

Oh man, the Indigo League situation. That was. Frustrating.

Yeah, Ash learned a long time ago to not get cocky. He's matured on that front since OS and AG. I think it's very sweet how he's so humble about it that he just. Forgets to mention it.

Yeah. I think Journeys is doing a lot for continuity regardless by showing us how a bunch of Ash's old friends are doing. And yeah, Ash climbing the ranks of the PWC definitely counts for something.

Yeah, I wonder where Ash'll go from there. His goal is to be a Pokemon master, and he says that encompasses a lot more than being a strong trainer or even the strongest trainer, but it's such a vague thing the rest of us... really have no idea what it means.

For sure.

Yeah. I remember when the premise of Journeys was first revealed I was immediately worried because it felt like a goodbye, and then with the returns of so many of Ash's old friends... it does start to feel more and more like a sendoff. But we don't know for sure yet, only time will tell what the future holds.

They sure did. So much gratitude and admiration forever for that.

Maybe I'll give that a shot sometime! I don't know how much space my little laptop has but I could look into it. Though one way or another I'd still like to see if I can figure out a VPN because I may be a believer in "be gay, do (victimless) crime" in theory but I am very paranoid about getting caught.

#Andrew answers #Gary anon

[fantasyinvader]

Honestly, I think 3H does a great deconstruction of the idea of player avatars.

1) The whole themes of knowledge vs ignorance that the world was built around. I can’t help but feel that this is a critique of older RPGs where the player is just plopped into the world and told to go do X in order to save the world. Usually, you’d get around this by character writing, but with silent protagonists that doesn’t work since they rarely have any motivation of their own. Instead, they are just swept away by whomever is telling them what to do.

Adding to this, the fact the game wants the player to begin looking into the lore of the world in order to support the idea that going SS is the right thing to do. I mean, unless a NPC says something funny we usually don’t play attention to them or read in-game books to understand the setting. Likewise, while supports have always been a way to better understand our units the fact that they are also crucial to forming the bigger picture makes them more important than ever.

Though I have to say, the fact that we’re supposed to gain an understanding from Fodlan from our hub is a little underwhelming as it creates a disconnect between us and the place we’re meant to understand.. I think people would have a harder time acting as if Edelgard is justified if they saw what her war was actually doing or hearing villagers outside of her base of operations.

The fact is though, the game gave us a hub to understand this world, something no other Fire Emblem has done before. Closest thing I can think of is visiting towns in Gaiden/Echoes. It makes 3H a different experience than past games.

2) The fact Byleth isn’t meant to be us. We can input their name, but there’s a birth name for them that we never see. Likewise, we can put in a birthday but we later learn Byleth’s real birthday. They have a set list of likes, and will have their own dreams at the end of SS/AM/VW. Likewise, they also default against Edelgard unless the player ups their influence and decides something different, which leads to CF and Byleth returning to being the Ashen Demon. Going CF rejects Byleth’s character and growth, which plays into SS being the route the game was meant to support.

It’s not MSG 2 and Raiden, I mean we can choose how they grow or who they end up with, but it is something.

[theclaravoyant]

The Sum of Our Parts [FitzSimmons]

AN ~ for @florchis, who prompted “Daisy trying to help FitzSimmons mend their relationship after the Framework,” and also tagging @buckysbears who recently wrote about how we need more fics about characters recovering by learning to stand on their own two feet, which is a concept I’ve also threaded strongly through this.

FitzSimmons, Bus Kids. Rated T for general angst & Framework references (no A*da refs though).

Read on AO3 (~2600wd)

The Sum of Our Parts

It was a miserable time on the SS Space Prison. Not the routine itself – that was not too bad, not too different from being on base, but for the grating knowledge that they were here against their wills. No, what was really getting down on everyone was the shadow of the Framework, still hanging over their lives.

Coulson replayed Captain America’s speech to the Hub at the Fall of Shield; a call to action that the meek, obedient teacher in the Framework world had never heard, had never felt. He’d sent children to be brainwashed and killed. They were computer-coded children, and he a computer-coded version of himself, but still. It was a harrowing thought.

Mack was haunted by memories of his daughter, in a grief that was different from his first grief in all the most painful ways. Having her back had always been a dream and though that should have helped him move on, instead it led him to question the nature of reality. It plunged his faith into doubt, and he felt more alone than he had in years. If Hope could exist in a godless world like that, and not here, what was the point of it all?

Elena did not have the answers, and she knew it was more than just language and culture that kept her from understanding Mack now. But she stood by him, and did her best. Even so, she puzzled over her final decision in the Framework. To stay with Mack. To die with him. She had passed it off as a gamble she had been willing to take, but really, in hindsight, she had not been confident. She had been ready to die. It was true: everyone who loved her most had been in that room. Her family was dead and gone. Her closest friend had disowned her. She had nothing but Shield, and even they were distrustful – except Daisy, perhaps, but still Elena wondered. Would she ever find a place?

Daisy herself, ever resilient, was the backbone of the team in this time of crisis. Having lost Trip, lost Lincoln again – having been hunted and beaten by her friends, by May and Fitz – she felt all her old wounds ripped open again. The only way to heal them, she found, was to try and patch up the people around her. She had never loved God like Mack did. She had never been a drone, or feared being one, like Coulson had. She couldn’t even understand how May had managed to come out of this so lost: though her decision not to save the girl had been reinforced, by seeing the horrors of the aftermath of the alternative, May could feel how lost and broken her team was, and could do nothing.

But Daisy could.

And that’s why, one night, Jemma came knocking on her door. Frantically, heavily, incessantly, until Daisy hauled the flat of the door out of the way of her desperately rapping knuckles.

“It’s Fitz,” Jemma gushed, in explanation. Daisy nodded in understanding, and pulled Jemma into her room. Jemma shoved a packet of Oreos into her arms, as some sort of payment for the disruption, and begged: “Can you go talk to him, see how he is?”

“I talk to him plenty,” Daisy assured her. “He’s going through some stuff, for sure, but he’ll be alright.”

Jemma shook her head. That wasn’t good enough.

“I just. I want. To help. So badly. But I can’t be near him right now. I can’t. Not after -”

“I know.” Daisy swallowed the knot in her throat. “Fitz knows too, okay?”

“And he’s beating himself up about it, isn’t he?”

“In fairness, he’s beating himself up about a lot these days,” Daisy pointed out, and hoped she didn’t sound as cryptic as she thought she did. Last week, Fitz had been hit by a depression so deep and so bleak that believing he deserved to breathe had barely been in the picture, but Daisy wasn’t about to tell Jemma that. The last thing Fitz needed was Jemma in overdrive, and the last thing Jemma needed was to fear that the man she loved, but couldn’t look at, was about to off himself in her absence.

“I want to fix him,” Jemma insisted. “It. The situation. I just wish I knew what to do to make it better.”

“You know that’s not your job, right?” Daisy checked. “To fix him?”

Jemma sighed.

“I know,” she promised. Tears pricked at her eyes, and tugged at her voice. “But I love him, and he’s hurting, and it’s hard.”

“I know,” Daisy agreed. She wrapped her arms around Jemma, and together, the two of them took a big, deep breath. A little reluctantly, Daisy pulled away.

“You want to know what I think?” she offered. “I think you need to stop trying to solve the problem for him.”

Jemma blinked, surprised and a little hurt. Those words sounded brutal, coming from Daisy, who was such a friend to them both. But Daisy continued:

“Firstly, you don’t see the world like he does, and maybe he doesn’t need what you think he needs.

“Secondly, you have your own stuff to deal with. I know you want to help Fitz and I know you know he’s not the same person as the one in there, but I think you should take a beat. Your heart doesn’t always know what your brain knows. You had to kill a man who loved you, and who looked like Fitz. A robot man, but still. He tried to kill you – and then, inside the Framework? Another man with Fitz’s face looked you in the eyes, and shot you. Actually shot you!”

“Stop it,” Jemma hissed, clenching her fists. Hot tears dripped down her face. Daisy pulled back a little.

“I’m just saying,” she explained more carefully. “Solving other people’s problems isn’t going to get you out of this one. And acting like everything is the same as it was two weeks ago is going to destroy you both. It’s nobody’s fault, but it still sucks ass, and it’s still going to take time to get over. I think you should take this time as an opportunity to process what’s been going on with you. Don’t worry about your relationship. It’s still there. It wants to be there. It’s not going anywhere. But it’s not going to move forward, either, unless you trust that Fitz can get back onto his own two feet without you. He has done before.”

It was a hard reality to face, but Jemma could not deny the truth of Daisy’s words. All she wanted to do was curl up in safety, but there was nowhere safe, and she was in no condition to offer the help she wanted to, and sometimes… sometimes she wasn’t what Fitz needed. Just as he – as much as it hurt them both – was not what Jemma needed right now.

She took a deep breath. Tears fell freely down her cheeks now, and Daisy was tearing up too, bleeding empathy.

“I just want everything to be okay,” Jemma begged.

“Me too.” Daisy hugged her again, briefly, and then held her at arms length to meet her eyes. “And yes, I will keep an eye on Fitz, and help him if I can. I promise. In fact, I’ll go see him right now. Sounds good?”

Jemma nodded absently, distracted in thought and wiping at her eyes with her hands until Daisy passed her a tissue.

“I’ll go… book a treadmill,” she decided. Daisy looked at her, puzzled, and she explained: “Regular exercise has meditative qualities, and can help with emotional regulation as well as sleep and circulation. Amongst other things, of course.”

She smiled briefly, and Daisy smiled, more encouragingly, back.

“That’s my girl,” she praised.

--

When Daisy knocked on Fitz’s door, he called her in. He was in bed, with a sketchpad on his lap, removing a set of earphones from his ears as she pushed the door open. Immediately, her eyes were drawn to the pictures all around the walls. There were strings and pegs up, decorated by pages he’d torn out of other books, and drawn all over in pen and pencil and apparently, charcoal. Some of the images were quite horrific, and almost made Daisy flinch: faces in agony, dead trees, hellish landscapes. Others were not so bad. A woman on a hill, silhouetted in moonlight. A candle, burning brightly in the darkness. A butterfly, drawn in black charcoal and decorated with bright blue and red ballpoint pens.

“You’ve been busy,” Daisy remarked. Fitz looked around, unsure how proud he should be of these scribblings, born from nightmares.

“It relaxes me,” he explained.

“That’s good.”

Daisy nodded, and perused the pictures some more, but she no longer paid so much attention to the details. Her mind churned over Jemma’s concern, and how to raise the subject with Fitz. In the end, she decided, she couldn’t be much more brutal than he was being with himself, so she forged ahead.

“Jemma’s worried about you.”

Fitz lowered his eyes. “I know.”

“She’s sorry she can’t see you.”

“That’s not her fault. It’s…”

“Complicated,” Daisy finished for him. “But she wanted to make sure you knew. She still loves you, you know. Like, really a lot."

“I still love her too.”

Fitz’s eyes burned with tears. His heart had been yearning for Jemma for so long, it had become a dull and pounding ache now that they were apart… but not really apart. Not separate. Just separated. It was always a struggle to remind himself of that, especially on the bad days.

“Do you want to send her a message?” Daisy offered. “Write her a letter. I’ll deliver it, if you like.”

Fitz shook his head.

“I’m not… ready,” he explained. His voice trembled a little. It was hard, not to reach out to Jemma with everything he had. But in spite of how beaten down he felt, and how he could hardly believe she would still hold this olive branch out to him, something inside told him not to do it. Something on the page in front of him, told him not to do it.

“Not ready… how?” Daisy wondered.

“Not ready to… be Jemma’s. Without being myself first. I thought I knew who I was but now I don’t anymore. I don’t know if I’m a good person. I don’t know who I’d really be without Jemma. Until I know that, I won’t be able to prove to myself that the Framework wasn’t a real potential outcome. That it really wasn’t me. And until I can prove that, I won’t be ready.”

Daisy pressed her lips together, and swallowed hard. Her stomach turned.

“Does this mean you’re gonna go run off and find yourself in the wild?”

Fitz laughed, a short and breathless dismissal.

“No! I don’t want to leave you guys… I sure as hell don’t want to break up with Jemma. I just want to be sure that, by the time we can be together again, I can be my best self. Does that… make sense?”

“Not really,” Daisy confessed. “But if it did, I think I’d be concerned.” Fitz snorted.

“Can I at least tell her you’re alright?” Daisy pressed.

“Sure.” He wasn’t, really. Not every day. But he was going to be.

Sensing the gravity in his words, Daisy nodded. They lived messy lives, but here they were, making the best sense out of it that they could. She dropped down on the bed, scooching in beside him, and sighed.

“So, what’s the plan?” she asked him. “How are you going to figure out that you’re a good person?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Fitz replied. “A lot of thinking, I s’pose. And overthinking. It’s going to take a while which… well, sucks.”

Daisy nodded in sympathy. “Welcome to the human race, I guess. And the Inhuman race. Existential crises are another thing we share, apparently.”

“Oh, good, so you’re not too evolved to look at my bugs?”

Daisy screwed up her nose. “Are they real bugs?”

“No. Pictures of bugs.”

“Are they like… eating people, or something?”

“No!” Fitz gagged. “They’re just really geometric to draw. I thought I’d try my hand at something a bit less…”

He gestured around the room. Scribbles born from nightmares. Even the nice ones, Daisy saw, were rushed and urgent and painfully soul-bearing. Still, they held promise; the promise that Fitz could still produce something beautiful, and if he couldn’t do that by building, maybe this was a better way.

“Okay,” Daisy agreed. “Shoot.”

--

Daisy couldn’t help but be proud of them, as much as it hurt, as she watched them struggle toward the light on their own. In fits and starts, they made their way toward progress. Jemma started exercising, sleeping and eating better, and meditating with May each morning. She was less inclined to panic attacks and catastrophic spirals, and gradually she was getting her PTSD back under control. Fitz, meanwhile, started talking to Mack at length about philosophy, and as he stumbled through hundreds of years of humanity's existential crisis he began to find he no longer felt so lost. His art evolved, too, and he developed two separate notebooks: one for the nightmares, and one for his more deliberate art. He drew flowers, and beautiful beetles. Scarabs were his favourite. Sometimes, he drew people, or even scenes, like the one of an old couple walking a dog. One night, Daisy found him by the big viewing window, trying to draw a picture of space, like the one he’d had in his bunk since the Bus days, and even before that. Apparently, he’d bought it from a goodwill store back home, and carried it around with him all this time. It wasn’t here, prisoner with him, but it was reassuring to know that he was finding roots of what he loved before Jemma, outside of her.

Plus, Daisy couldn’t lie, it made her intensely happy that this love – their love of space – was so much older than their love for each other and yet, it was something they shared.

(The cosmos says what? Daisy almost teased.)

Then one morning, she was eating alone at a table in the cafeteria, watching Jemma and Fitz across the room, each one table apart. Now that they were both on steady ground, Daisy wondered if she shouldn’t reprise her matchmaker role; no doubt both were hesitant to make the first move with so much at stake. But then, before her very eyes, Fitz got up and walked to Jemma’s table. He held out a sheet of paper.

It was a page from his notebook. A bird, based on a bluejay, and beautifully detailed as if in flight.

“I… made this for you,” he offered. Jemma’s eyes flicked over his face, still not sure if she was ready to meet his eyes, but she took the paper and studied his drawing and sighed in admiration.

“It’s beautiful,” she praised.

“Thank you,” he said. It wasn’t as hard to swallow the compliment as he remembered. “I’ve been working on my art lately. Helps me think.”

“That’s really nice,” Jemma agreed. “I’ve started meditating with May. Though I’ve missed having you at morning tea.”

“Me too.”

And then Jemma took a deep breath. She looked up, and met Fitz’s eyes. They were a little heavier, more burdened than she remembered, but just as rich and soulful and loving as the eyes that she remembered. That she herself loved.

“Fitz, I – I mean, would you – “ She pressed her lips together for a moment. “Would you like to sit down?”

“Jemma,” he breathed. “I would love to.”

And he did.

#fitzsimmons #brot3: bus kids #thefitzsimmonsnetwork #engineering vs biochem #aospositivitynet #team engineering #clara's fic tag

[lookgoodformula]

Makeup and Beauty Blog Monday Poll, Vol. 590

So…what is the Monday Poll?

Excellent question! It isn’t, contrary to its name, an actual poll, like with little clicky buttons. It’s just a list of five more or less random questions I’ve been posting on this blog every Monday morning for the past quadrillion years (since 2007). I love reading your answers, and it helps me get my week off to a good start.

1. Your last beauty purchase?

I just ordered some metal duckbill hair clips because I’m on a mission to inject BIG-@SS volume into the roots in my bangs. (Side note: I got a blowout last week, and the stylist [Hi, Robyn!] used them.)

2. How do you keep track of your appointments?

El Hub and I share a Google Calendar, which works somewhat well, but sometimes we still tune out the notification alerts and emails. I’m thinking about also putting a big old-school calendar in the kitchen where we can write things like holidays, half-days, bill due dates and appointments and be reminded of those things day in, day out.

A few friends have recommended getting one of those extra large desk pad calendars but putting it on the wall, so I might try that, unless I can find a cute dry-erase calendar I can hang.

Continue reading "Makeup and Beauty Blog Monday Poll, Vol. 590" on Makeup and Beauty Blog.

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