Chapter 27 – Made. Not Born.

The locker-room door swings shut behind us. Side by side, Yang and I walk down the corridor, the dim lights are irradiating compared to the sheer darkness we were both engulfed in minutes before.

"How's the hand?" Yang asks.

"Uh, not great," I say, massaging it. "I think I might've bruised it."

Between the moment I lashed out at Sky and now, the shade around my knuckles have deepened from Scottish pale, to bleeding red, to even a dark purple. It's nothing that my Aura won't be able to heal, along with my jaw, but it's disconcerting to see your skin as dirty as uprooted beetroot.

"Lemme see?"

I raise it up for her, barely withholding a gasp as she tugs it closer, running her eyes brazenly across the blending bruises sharply. I try my best not to look awkward. 'Try' being the key word here.

Yang hisses, "Oof. Hit 'em with the wrong knuckles. Rookie mistake. You could've shattered your hand this way."

"I've never hit anyone before!" I protest, retracting and rubbing my hand. "Never wanted to."

My fingers glide over my blotched knuckles, the afterimage of the strike calling back as if I'd just thrown it. Even at my angriest, even back when I was a Highschool loner, I've never lost my temper so badly as to actually hit someone. I hated fighting, I still hate fighting. After each of those battles in the Emerald Forest, the first thing that always came to mind was, 'Thank God that was over. Hope that's the last of them for a while.'

That being said…

I allow myself a small smile. I will never forget that punch.

Yang playfully bumps her shoulder against mine.

"See," she lifts up a fist, pointing to her two large knuckles. "You want to lead using these two here. They're the strongest ones. Less likely to injure yourself and it lines with the arm so you can get all your power out."

To demonstrate, she clenches, pulls back and fires a straight right in front of us, shifting the air around us and shattering the imaginary man's chin into pieces.

"Bam! Clean hit. Knuckles intact. Broke an asshole's nose. Good day to be you. Nothing else to it!"

I roll my eyes, "Have you ever considered that teaching people this way might be better than punching them in the face first?"

She glances at me. I send back a knowing look. Yeah, that's right, I heard the horror stories from Ruby. Her idea of teaching someone unarmed combat is normally to take away their weapon and then fight them over and over until they get better. There's a reason I never went to her about my Semblance, I didn't want to have my jaw broken!

…Speaking in context, of course. Ow.

Yang shrugs, "Eh, I don't think so. Better to just jump in and learn as you go, I'd say. Take it straight on. You'll never get anywhere tiptoeing around everything."

Huh. That's… certainly a philosophy to live life by.

"Also," she grins. "It wouldn't nearly be as fun!"

Ah! There we go. That's a far more believable reason.

Battle maniacs, I sigh.

"By the way," I start. "How did you find me?"

"Luck," she replies.

I shoot her an unimpressed glare.

She laughs, waving me off, "No, really! Heather fell asleep at the dinner table again, so my team and I were carrying her back to the room. On the way back, I spotted you heading somewhere so, I got the girls to haul Heather back and tailed you. I wasn't even searching for you when that happened!"

I let out a quiet huff. Here I thought I was being stealthy. Has anything I've done in the past hour paid off for me.

Yang smirks, evidently proud of 'ruining' my scheme, "What can I say? Your good luck must be rubbing off on me."

"Then Mister Liddell's luck must be rubbing off on all of us."

Electricity shoots up my spine, quickly followed by a harrowing sense of dread. When I hid away these past couple of days, I did it with the explicit intent that I wouldn't be found by anyone. Not Yang, not Ruby, I didn't want anyone to find me until I wanted them to.

However, that doesn't mean there were certain people I wanted less to find me than others, and the tall, glowering, crop-wielding woman behind me was at the very top of that list.

My face squirms, a line of curses parading in my head as it does so. Yang spins around and leans a hand on my shoulder, both to appear casual as well as to provide reassurance, as tries her best to pretend like nothing's wrong.

"Heya teach," she greets. "Nice evening don't ya think?"

"Sparkling," Professor Goodwitch says drily. "I'm aware of your absences these past couple of days, Mister Liddell."

I shut my eyes and take a breath. You knew this was coming. No more hiding. Take it head on.

Forcing myself through my hesitation, I turn around to meet my teacher. Her eyes instantly narrow in on the bruise on my jaw. I lift up a hand to cover, as if it would make the wound magically disappear from her like she never saw it in the first place. I breathe.

"M-Miss, I-"

"As much as I wish to stand here and lecture you on the importance your education will have for your Huntsman career," she says, her scowl smoothing out. "That will need to wait. I'm here to retrieve you. Your presence has been requested."

Yang and I share a look, each as perplexed as the other. Somebody wants to see me? That's never really been a thing that happens before. Can't say I like the change.

She nods, "Okay. I'll come too."

"That won't be necessary, Miss Xiao Long," say Professor Goodwitch. "Mister Liddell was specifically requested to come alone."

Alone. As in, I want whatever I say to you to be for your ears only alone or, I don't want you to have kind of emotional support for when I emotionally rail you into the ground alone? Either way, this has to be about something important.

Anxiety levels: Rising.

"Uh, alright then," Yang blinks. She turns to me, still unsure of what's going on but has kind of decided to accept things for what they are. "I'll go grab Ruby. We'll talk when you're done with… whatever the hell Goodwitch is taking you to."

I bob my head, "Mm. I'll be there this time, I promise."

"Break it at your own peril," she simpers. "Later!"

I smile, "See you."

After seeing me off with a two-finger salute, Yang walks away down the corridor and vanishes behind a turn. Only Professor Goodwitch and I now. I mentally coax myself in preparation for what would be a lengthy and uncomfortably quiet trip.

"This way," leads the Professor. I obey and follow-in.

"I-if you don't mind me asking," I stutter nervously. "Wh-where are we going, Miss?

The Disciplinary department.

Or, more specifically, one of its select interrogation rooms. Of course, that's not what Professor Goodwitch calls it exactly but, with its claustrophobic spacing, starkly unappealing colouring, and its single-light hovering above the table like the beams of an encircling police chopper, I feel like I'm about to be booked for first-degree murder. All that's missing is the one-way glass and an unempathetic chain-smoking detective with a froggy voice. There is a window behind me but, Vale's luminous nightlife can't be seen on this side of the building. Just the pitch-black silhouette of the Emerald Forest and beyond.

My fingers trill against the table. It's been roughly ten minutes since Professor Goodwitch left me in here, and the waiting's starting to stress me out. What makes it worse is that I'm almost certain I know what this is about. It's as she said, a stern lecture and a slap on the wrist would've satisfied her if this were about my absences.

So, Miss Goodwitch probably knows already. Wonderful. Can't imagine how she ever found out.

Thanks, Sky. You asshat.

Then again, maybe I should tell her? It's not like keeping it hidden has done me any favours thus far. Cardin's in hot water already, I can dip him and the rest of team CRDL even deeper if I confess here. She is the head of Disciplinary action and, knowing her, there's no way in hell Professor Goodwitch would let them off light for it. She'd know how to handle them. This… this could be for the best.

So was giving up leadership. Look what happened there.

…I sigh and fold my arms on the table, lying my droopy head to rest on them. God, I miss beds.

The door handle creaks. I straighten up, speedily sorting myself to look like someone who totally wasn't about to fall asleep, and direct my attention keenly towards the door. It opens. There's an unfamiliar click of shoes, not belonging to Professor Goodwitch's sharp heels.

The first thing I register is a piping hot mug of coffee and, as if my head deciphered enough information, my body seizes up. I thought that spending half-an-hour being scrutinized under the critical eye of Professor Goodwitch would be the worst-case scenario here. That, at the very least, the situation could in no way become any more stressful.

Being interrogated by Professor Ozpin, the bloody headmaster of Beacon Academy? Worse. Definitely worse. If he of all people consider it necessary to talk to a student instead of letting another teacher do it, then something is really, really, wrong.

Professor Ozpin takes a careful sip from his mug.

"Eren Liddell," he says. More a statement than a greeting.

I swallow, "H… h-hello, sir." He gives my bruise a fixed look and I fidget against my seat.

It's now that I notice that he's dragging something in his other hand. A red wagon. Looks much like the one the library gave me just over a week ago. Quite alike, really.

Actually, looking at a bit more closely… I think that is the same wagon I had. At a glance it appears as though it's hardly been touched but, on closer inspection: the back end has some jagged ends jutting unnatural inward, several holes dot the bottom like bullet wounds, and the front wheels have been replaced entirely with what seems to be training wheels from a bicycle. Seems functional enough. Grampa would be impressed.

Professor Ozpin approaches, setting the wagon aside and placing his mug gently on the table before taking a seat in front of me.

This is the first time I've ever been face-to-face with the man before. Every other time he'd be up above and out of reach or I'd be with a group and blend in. Previous headmasters always seemed so distant to me. Having the attention of one is… honestly, pretty nerve-racking.

"Do you recognise this?" Ozpin nudges towards the wagon.

I nod, "Y-yes."

"From what I've been informed, it was brought in back in quite the state. By your word, you had an accident after taking out a large quantity of books. It was a weight too much for you to handle, you couldn't control the wagon, and the incident in question ensued," he says, before flicking his eyes. "You failed to mention where this incident took place."

"U-uh, w-well," I stutter, playing with my fingers underneath the table. "I-I wasn't asked, sir. I-I didn't think anyone would've cared about the 'Where' and 'How'. Just the 'What'."

"I see," he pushes his glasses back. "The assisting student deduced that 'With someone of your build' the most likely occurrence would've been that you lost your grip climbing up one of the many stairwells and the wagon was smashed coming back down."

…I mean, it's a logical deduction but, still, I toiled away carrying the books up those stairs.

I'm proud we made it that far. My non-existent muscles are troopers, jerk.

"But we both know that's not what happened."

I resist wincing. Professor Ozpin takes another sip from his mug, "Two days prior, it was reported that one of the corridors in student accommodation had suffered severe damages: Broken windows, damaged flooring and ceiling, several torn book pages, red shrapnel that, after inspection, was concluded to belong to your wagon."

Two days prior?

'Okay. For some reason, Goodwitch wants to come take a look at the wagon. Says it's important to something or other.'

…Ah. Then that's why. I took the books from the courtyard along with the remaining covers that managed to survive. Without the library codes on the front, plus the dozens of copies they'd have on backup, they wouldn't have known I was involved until I brought in the wagon.

However… That is curious.

"Despite how fortuitous we are for Professor Goodwitch's Semblance, several of these items were beyond repair and require replacement. Now, I am aware that the students here are being trained specifically for combat and are encouraged to experiment and expand on their repertoire as they study here but…" He gazes at me critically, "That was not a combat arena, Mister Liddell. That was destruction of property. It is disrespectful to me, to the members of staff, and to what Beacon academy as a whole stands for and it will not be tolerated."

A wave shudders through me, I have to clamp my arm to prevent myself from freaking out. The headmaster himself considers what happened to be a serious offense. That's not something I can lightly.

"S-sir," I breathe. "What happened… Th-that is- What I mean- It wasn't-"

"You weren't responsible."

I blink, nonplussed.

Professor Ozpin chuckles light before taking another sip, "Come now, if you were, we'd be having a very different conversation. Such as: 'When did you become capable of such raw power?'"

"A-ah…" I release my arm and calm myself. Of course he'd know, he was there the whole time for my assessment during the Entrance exam. If there's anybody who'd understand exactly what I'm capable of, it would be him. That's good, I suppose.

He continues, "But that doesn't change the fact that you took responsibility for something you shouldn't have and thus covered for the true culprits."

Hold on, my ears prick up. Did he just…

Yes, he did, and I don't think it's only a coincidence either.

Stoically, Professor Ozpin finishes the rest of coffee, pushing the empty mug aside, and rests his clasped hands on the table, "Why did you lie, Eren?"

"...Before I answer that, s-sir," I fumble slightly. "Do you mind if I ask you something?"

There's a moment where Professor Ozpin just stares peculiarly at me before he leans back, "I don't see the harm."

"You know already, don't you?"

That's raised his eyebrows. Think I might've been a bit blunt with that.

"Wh-what I mean to say is," I start, steading my breath. "You said 'culprits' not 'culprit.' Normally, people tend to assume there's only one culprit after a crime a-and, from what you would've found, th-there's nothing there to imply there was more."

There's the damage Cardin caused with the wagon and the damage to the courtyard but, that's nothing to suggest that it was more than one person. This Academy's full of strong fighters that could've caused that much chaos individually.

"Y-yet, you were certain that there were more. Like… you already pieced it together," I say, doubt slowly creeping closer. "A… Am I wrong?"

He pauses, "No. You are correct."

Alright. That makes me partial right as opposed to being a total dunce. Plus one competency point.

"There's another thing. This isn't entirely about the wagon incident, is it?" I wager. "If it were, you would've brought me in for questioning earlier. You already investigated the scene, you concluded it was someone else after I brought the wagon in, why not bring me in earlier to confess? Unless there was something more important that you were focused on."

Sure, I've been… absent these past couple of days, but he had all the way from Friday through to Tuesday to get someone to sit me down and reveal what happened. Or even have me stay for when they examined the wagon, interrogated me then and there, but they didn't and if this is about what I think this is about…

"I-is that right, sir?"

Another, almost contemplative, moment of silence. I shift against my seat, aware that I've essentially given everything away whether I'm right or wrong. Knowing that doesn't bother me so much, it was going to happen one way or another today. Doing it this way, letting everything out in the open, is more likely to help at this point than if I kept up the façade.

Besides, I'm done keeping schtum for their benefit.

Suddenly, a smile broaches across Professor Ozpin's face. The brown in his eyes lightening, as if they're swelling. His composition doesn't womble even an inch, I'd struggled to call his display 'emotional' per say but still, this is the most emotion I've ever seen the man show before.

He burrows a hand into his pockets, "I think we can do without the pretence now, don't you?"

Ozpin places his Scroll down and, spawning from a startling magnetic interface almost imbued within the table itself, beams an illumine blue hologram. Through a flurry of directories too quick and too many to process, it lands on seven folders, each labelled and containing a detailed report on particular students supplied with mugshots.

Amongst these profiles is my name.

"As you may have noticed, several newly inducted students have not been attending class lately, yourself included," he explains. Just needed to include that last part, didn't he?

Yeah, still pretty guilty about that.

"Now, it's not irregular to find students less enthused about the studious portion of our curriculum skipping and attending classes when they please but, we've never had students abandon their attendance within the first week before. Certainly not in bulk either."

I hum and glean at the images, thoroughly scanning each students features to memory. Not including myself: there's a pudgy-looking girl, a boy with shark teeth, a girl with goat antlers, a tall but lanky guy, and a boy with white dog ears.

Add Jaune to the list and that makes seven; Four humans, three faunas, and this isn't even counting the ones still holding out or even the second-year girl in the sophomore common room.

My bruised knuckle pops as I clench my fist. They're certainly ambitious bastards, aren't they?

"We brought each of them in for questioning but, none of them were willing to talk," says Professor Ozpin. "Professor Goodwitch has had her suspicions set on a collective effort from a certain team within your class. She also mentioned that yourself and one of your teammates had a couple of incidents in her Sparring classes."

Therefore, I'd have much more incentive to answer his questions and help them out than the other students do. That's why he bringing me in now.

"So…" I budge back into my seat. "You want me to talk, then?"

"Not quite," he says. "What I want is your help."

I'm taken aback, "T-telling you what I know wouldn't help?"

"It would be beneficial, yes, but unfortunately the word of a single boy can only solve so much," he answers, pushing back his glasses. "Especially one with cause for a grudge."

Steam hisses from the tip of an onyx mace, standing above discarded sword and shield.

I balk, "I wouldn't lie about something like that!"

"I know you wouldn't, Eren," he coaxes gingerly. "But, you have a bias, and due course demands that we take every possibility into consideration before we make our judgement. I don't think you would lie, but you do have the motivation to lie against the perpetrators and we cannot ignore that."

I wilt, "Is… is that really how this works?"

He appears apologetic, "It's unfortunate. Working without evidence and just your testimony, the process would be long and very time-consuming." And by the time they'd finish confirming everything and ready to punish CRDL, Jaune will have left Beacon already. Damn. "Which is why we need more than just your word."

I glance up at the Scroll screen, the implications of what he's suggesting quickly clicking into place yet, I'm finding it difficult to fully comprehend.

"You want me to get them to confess?"

Me? Over anyone else?

"I'm getting on in life, Eren. Why, in no time at all, I'll be approaching my forties and a midlife crisis that I guarantee will be painful for all involved," he chuckles, oddly uncaring that he's halfway through his life already. "I'm a generation ahead of these students. They wouldn't even consider that I'm even capable of understanding them and their plights. However…"

"I… I don't-"

"You've suffered the way they have. You can empathize and understand the pain they're going through, the fear they have," he explains. "With their confessions, we would have overwhelming evidence against the perpetrators and will be able to put an end to this permanently."
My lips fumble, tempted to say something but I don't know what that something is. My head's still struggling to accept that the Professor is really asking me.

He budges down his glasses, not so much to remove them, but enough that there's practically nothing in the way of our eyes, "You want to stop this. I want my students to succeed. I need you to get those confessions, Mister Liddell. For their sakes, if nobody else's."

I choke on the weight of his words.

"Now, I must take my leave."

Feeling he's said enough, Professor Ozpin picks up his Scroll, the hologram dissipating like broken glass. He stands up, nabbing his empty mug on the way, and heads for the door, leaving me with his besotted request.

…Wrong, that wasn't a request, there was no offer, no chance to decline. He didn't even wager the possibility that I would fail in that conversation, he told me everything he and the rest of the staff know about the situation and is sending me out to sort it all. It was like a mission briefing: Here's your objective, show me results.

Faith.

That's it, isn't it? Pure faith. He brought me here for that sole purpose, to get me to help him. Not to confess, not to take punishment or admit to wrong-doings, he wanted me in particular to assist in solving this problem for him.

Why? Why me? Why is he picking me to do this for him? He could've picked anyone else, someone way more socially-savvy than I am for the job. Why am I somehow worth the trust to help the Headmaster of Beacon academy to prevent other students from dropping their careers? Why is he giving me that faith?

No.

Why is he giving me that faith, again?

"Sir!"

I shoot up from my seat. Professor Ozpin turns around.

"Why…" I swallow, tongue twisting. "Why did you pick me to be team leader of LABS."

"You don't understand?"

"A leader is supposed to be charismatic: bold, someone people would look up to. Someone that can inspire and make people aspire to be like," I say, shaking my head. "That's not me at all."

He looks at me pointedly, "Do you believe I made the wrong choice?"

I rub my wrist, "I can't see how it was the right one..."

It's not my intention to insult him, but that's how I truly feel. I simply want to understand why these people believe I'm so deserving of it all.

Again, Professor Ozpin takes out his Scroll, swiping away through it for a second longer than before, and then places back on the table for presentation. I can tell from the brief buffering time before that this is a video, clocking in at almost four hours thirty-nine minutes. Bit bulky. It finishes loading and what first appears on-screen is the shimmering shade of emerald green. A forest.

The Emerald Forest. This must be pre-recorded footage from the initiation. Don't know what they used exactly to capture all of this but, I'm not foolish enough to doubt Remnant's technology after all this time.

Finger to screen, Professor Ozpin fast forwards. The footage mobilizes, as if the camera were alive, hoping from location to location. Out of place colours pop on from the emerald between internals, can't quite make out what they were.

The footage halts at a bridge and a startling voice blares from the audio.

"That's enough!"

a reasonable distance: Weiss, Blake, Jaune, and myself are standing on a thin support of the bridge. Like a scene from an adaption, the events from that day play before me, the wounded Nevermore recovering in the background as the me from back then shouts at them.

"I don't care whose fault it is! Blaming each other and squabbling over 'Fault' isn't going to get us out of here alive! If anything, all you're doing is helping the bloody Nevermore!"

I flinch. Presented to me again, those words feel almost audacious. I can't believe I ever said them in the first place, it seems so unlike me. Even now, looking at myself, my brain wrestles to form a connection. I wouldn't do any of this. No, I definitely wouldn't be this brazen. Put in that situation again, I know I'd crumble. I would be in the corner, having an anxiety attack. An actor being in my place would make more sense.

"Tell me, Eren, who do you see?"

I glance at Professor Ozpin, seeking an answer but… I don't have one. I'm aware he's really me but, I can't possibly fathom it. We're too different.

I don't know this person.

"Do you wish to know who I see?" He offers. "I see someone stuck in a terrible situation, one rife with disaster at every turn. I see someone confronted by chaos, disorder, frayed rivalries beyond reason. I see someone stricken by fear, aware of the danger surrounding them and consequences most fatal should nothing be changed."

"I don't know you guys very well but… Damn it. I don't want any of you to die."

"I see someone who made a choice."

As the footage rolls-on, I watch as my doppelgangers suicidal gambit almost earns him a one-way trip to the Nevermore's stomach as icicles sprout out from Weiss' glyphs, successfully pinning it to the support.

"Mister Liddell, I see someone who threw aside his fear for the sake of others. Who could be capable of saving so many lives one day," Professor Ozpin explains. "If he allowed himself to be so."

Weiss falters, exhausted from her last blast of glyphs. The Nevermore circles around the central bridge and like a battering ram, blasts towards Weiss. My doppelganger pushes her forward and rolls away, right before the Nevermore blasts straight through where they've just been standing.

"It is understandable to be afraid of the position, Mister Liddell. Leadership is a daunting responsibility. But, it is also one that can strengthen a person. Leadership can shift and harden even the most timid of men into people worthy of protecting every they hold dear."

My doppelganger stands, the Nevermore hovering in front of him. It barrels forward, ready to smear him and his Aura-less frame against the bridge brickwork. A single shot blinds the Nevermore and it crashes straight into the bridge itself. That, I note, was the killing blow.

"I gave you the position not only because you were the best candidate, Eren Liddell. I gave you the position because you were the one who needed it the most."

I gaze back at Professor Ozpin, forcing myself away from the surreal scene presented to me. My eyes wander throughout the room, unsure what to do with themselves. I… don't really know how to accept all this.

"However, I can't force you to accept it, even if I wanted to. A leader who has no desire to lead is destined for destruction," he says. "If you still believe you're incapable and wish to forfeit your position, then very well. I shall revoke your leadership status and make do some other way. We shall never speak of it again."

It's… an enticing offer, I'll admit. An official out, nothing like the agreement Weiss and I had before. But, despite my inclination, I'm… not as certain of myself. Not as sure that this is truly a good idea as I once believed when I first tried to rid myself of it. I can't, for good measure, make that decision. At least, not here.

"But first," he points down. "Would you kindly put your Scroll on the table for me?"

Befuddled as I am, I nevertheless does as he says, placing my Scroll opposed to his. A few taps here and there from the Professor and my Scroll begins receiving something. Hearing a light ping, and the indication from Professor Ozpin, I pick up my Scroll and find that it's downloaded a video.

It's an exact copy of the footage he's just shown me.

"P-Professor!" I gape. "Th-this is school property! A-am I even allowed this?"

"Well, I am the Headmaster, after all. I don't think anyone will object if I'm the one giving it to you," he chuckles mirthfully. "Besides, the footage recorded during initiation was purely for skill assessment. Now that you're all in your teams, it will simply waste away in our archives until it's either forgotten or deleted for extra file space. I believe you'll put it to much better use."

"Th-that's very generous of you," I say, bowing my head. "Um, thank you sir!"

"I simply request this," he says, storing his Scroll away. "Take a good look at the boy you see here, see who you are from a faraway perspective, and ask yourself something."

"What kind of person do you want to be?"

Blinking at his question, the Professor once again decides to take his leave.

"Ask yourself that, and then take the strides necessary to become that person," he says, raising a hand in departure. "It was a pleasure speaking with you, Mister Liddell. If you ever need to talk, my office is always open."

The door closes and I'm left alone.

I gaze down at the video file in my hands, Professor Ozpin's question resounds in my head.

What kind of person do I want to be, huh?

…I open the file and rewind.

Play.

"I don't know you guys very well but…"

"I don't want any of you to die."

A/N: Okay, with this published, I can officially confirm the arc will definitely be over in two chapters. Very sorry for the delay. The moral of this arc is that overambition is a bastard and secretly wants to murder you in your sleep. Bleh.

There was another portion that I had finished for this but, comparing it with what's going to happen in the next chapter, it seemed more fitting thematically to slot that in there. Not entirely confident about that decision but, at least with that part done, I can focus on the rest of that chapter. Probably going to make two hella big chapters to cap off this neverending arc but, eh.

Honestly, despite how well-received people found the last chapter, I'm starting to feel it highlights how bloated my prose is getting. As much as I feel I've improved with my dialogue, I'm becoming more and more dissatisfied with everything surrounding it. It's essentially the opposite of how I felt this time last year.

Thank you very much for reading. How do you guys feel about the story so far? How about the prose? Do you feel it'd be better off if I cut down on it between dialogue or do you not notice much of a difference? Be sure to let me know in the reviews. Constructive criticism is encouraged!