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warabidakihime · 1 year ago

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A Glimpse Beyond Grief: Chapter 1

Characters: Toji Fushiguro x Reader | Office AU | Both characters are in their early 30s | toji is good daddy in this uwu

Synopsis: galactically intertwined journey of two souls: one navigating the depths of loss, the other offering a beacon of healing. through witty banter and unspoken connections, they find solace in unexpected places, uncovering the resilience of the human spirit and the power of love to mend even the most shattered hearts.

Content warning: profanity, (eventual) smut, highkey adult themed, can be psychologically and emotionally triggering for some so read with caution.

A/N: there might be a few typos. will fix them once i get home later :D

Toji's integration into JJK Holdings marked the beginning of a positive turn for the company. His initial weeks on the job showcased not only his professional prowess but also his ability to seamlessly blend into the workplace culture. Armed with a wealth of experience and a versatile skill set, Toji quickly established himself as a valuable asset within the organization.

From the outset, Toji's work station was strategically placed right beside yours, a deviation from the conventional placement of executive assistants. This unique arrangement was a deliberate choice aimed at fostering efficient communication and easy accessibility.

The camaraderie between you and Toji flourished effortlessly. The rapport that began during his final interview continued to evolve positively. Both of you displayed a natural inclination for engaging conversations, creating an atmosphere that transcended the typical professional hierarchy. Toji, in particular, appreciated the pleasant surprise of a welcoming lunch on his first day, a gesture that left a lasting impression.

In the short span of a few weeks, Toji's impact on the company became palpable. Beyond his exceptional work outputs, his insights into critical business matters proved invaluable. This was evident in the recent town hall meeting where the Chief Human Resources Officer shared the news of a doubling in overall revenue for the previous month.

The positive momentum extended to JJK Holdings' first face-to-face event since the onset of the pandemic. Toji's involvement in the event planning proved instrumental, contributing significantly to its success. His presence didn't go unnoticed, as distinguished guests recognized him, leading to fruitful networking opportunities. Three guests were so impressed that they decided to form strategic partnerships with JJK Holdings, culminating in the signing of two partnership contracts just a week ago. Notably, one of these contracts involved Gojo Enterprise, a major player in property and real estate development led by Gojo Satoru, last year's most influential business tycoon in Asia.

Toji and Satoru's history goes way back to their college days, where they both vied for the title of their alma mater's most outstanding pupil. The dynamic between the two was vividly on display at the recent event. Picture this: you're with Nanami Kento, your Associate Director from the learning and development department, when Satoru's voice echoes across the venue, calling out Toji's name. Cue the nerve-wracking jump scare. Initially, you thought a fight was brewing, only to discover that it was just their peculiar way of interacting – a mix of banter and wrestling, to be precise.

Knowing Satoru's penchant for bickering, you should have seen it coming. After all, you and Satoru share a history from your master's degree days at the same school. Toji, despite his displeasure, didn't back down. Instead, he pulled Satoru into a headlock, leaving onlookers both horrified and confused. Satoru, in his typical fashion, grinned like a madman while being manhandled by the visibly muscular Toji.

The second company to approach you wasn't after a partnership but sought to leverage your organization's services. Ms. Ieri Shoko, Founder, and CEO of CureWave Pharmaceuticals expressed interest in tapping into your talent acquisition expertise to aid in their expansion across Japan and other parts of Asia. Interestingly, Shoko is more than just a business contact; she's a childhood friend. In your earlier years, you contemplated a career in healthcare, a path Shoko embraced. However, your journey led you to oversee a human capital solutions company, a role uncertainly assumed, but one you inherited through your grandparents. JJK Holdings, established by them, became your responsibility upon your grandfather's passing. His trust in your skills, coupled with being his favorite grandchild, added a layer of significance to your role.

As the Executive Director in your third year, the organization has already soared under your leadership. With Toji now at your side, the potential for further growth feels limitless.

"Hey, Toji, mind if I ask you something?" you called out from your desk, amidst the task of arranging a meeting with your group heads.

"You're already asking a question," Toji retorted playfully. Without looking, you could almost picture the smug smirk he wore, prompting a playful eye roll from you.

Amidst crafting an email blast for event attendees, Toji's concentration broke with the sound of your voice. The email aimed to express gratitude and nurture potential collaborations by promptly reaching out to leads. You had instructed Toji to compose it, pending your approval for scheduling at the most opportune time.

"So, what's on your mind?" Toji inquired, stretching from his desk after finishing the emails.

"Before joining us, you applied to other companies, right?" you queried.

"Yeah, I did. Why?" Toji replied.

Tilting your head, your lips formed a pout of mild confusion. "Well, you mentioned that it took you five months to secure a job here. It's a bit puzzling considering your impressive credentials and the fact that esteemed business leaders know you and hold you in high regard."

Toji chuckled. "Well, the companies I applied to couldn't meet my salary expectations, or a handful of them thought I was overqualified. They appreciated my qualifications, but when it came to negotiating compensation, they hesitated to match my preferred amount. Truth be told, I actually undersold myself when applying here, just so I could finally land a job."

"Wait, really?" Your voice carried a note of astonishment as you processed his revelation.

Toji leaned back, a sheepish grin crossing his face as he shrugged. "Yeah, really. I guess I was just tired of the constant rejections and decided to take a chance here."

You shook your head with a mixture of disbelief and amusement. "So, you basically tricked us into hiring you for a bargain?"

His laughter filled the air, a warm and genuine sound that lightened the atmosphere. "Well, 'tricked' might be a strong word. Let's just say I saw an opportunity and seized it. And I've got no regrets."

"Unbelievable," you chuckled, shaking your head once more. "I can't decide if you're audacious or clever."

"To be fair, it worked out well for both parties," Toji remarked, his tone still lighthearted. "I landed a job, and you got yourself a skilled team member."

Leaning back in your chair, you wore a thoughtful expression. "True. But just remember, Toji, next time we negotiate your salary, I won't let you get away so easily."

Toji raised an eyebrow playfully. "Oh, really? And here I was hoping for a lifetime of discounted employment."

The air was light with laughter, the bond between you and Toji growing with every shared moment. As the laughter subsided, Toji's playful demeanor shifted, and his expression turned earnest. "I owe you, you know. You saved my ass."

You tilted your head, a mischievous grin playing on your lips. "Consider it part of the 'discounted employment' package: endless gratitude and the occasional coffee run for the boss."

Toji's eyes widened in feigned shock. "A catch! I knew it. But a few cups of coffee are a small price for salvation."

Another burst of laughter echoed in the room, creating a momentary bubble of warmth. When it settled, you rose from your chair, stretching fatigued limbs. "Speaking of coffee, it’s midday. Care to join me for a cup?" you proposed, approaching his desk.

"Sure. Just need to wrap up this draft," Toji replied, his focus on the monitor. You positioned yourself beside him, your arm casually draped over his office chair, and your gaze fell upon the email drafts. A smile danced on your lips. His eloquence shone brightly in his words.

"Hey, big guy, you've got a typo right here," you observed, pointing out the minor error.

"Woops. Don’t deduct that from my paycheck. I’ll do better next time, boss." Toji joked, earning a playful smack on his shoulders from you. Laughter spilled through the office, infusing it with a comfortable warmth.

"Oh, you can be sure I'll be cashing in that favor at the most unexpected moment," you declared, a playful lilt in your voice.

Toji chuckled, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "I'll be ready and waiting, boss."

With a final shared grin, you both headed for the office exit. The break room was close, and the idea of a hot cup of coffee was too tempting to resist. As you walked, conversation flowed effortlessly from work matters to lighter topics, deepening the camaraderie.

In the break room, you both fixed your preferred brews, the coffee scent filling the air as you leaned against the counter. Toji took a sip, visibly pleased.

"This is the real fuel that keeps me going," he quipped, nodding at his cup.

You raised yours. "To caffeine, the unsung hero of productivity."

Cups clinked, laughter followed. Even with the gloomy weather outside, the cheerful vibe persisted. Amidst sips, you found a brief respite from work.

"I hope the rain stops soon. It’s been raining for a while, right?" you observed, looking at the raindrops against the window. Toji agreed.

"Yeah, I'm hoping for that too. Traveling is a hassle in the rain. Traffic becomes unbearable, and I end up getting home late," Toji shared, a touch of discomfort in his expression.

Curious about his family life, you asked, "When you work on-site, who takes care of your kids?"

"My in-laws. They're nearby, so they help with the kids when I'm here."

Nodding, you said, "It's nice that you have a good relationship with your in-laws."

"I owe them a lot. They took care of Megumi and Tsumiki when I was still grieving over my wife," Toji shared, taking another sip.

A warm smile appeared as you asked, "You have two daughters?"

Toji chuckled and shook his head. "No, I have a daughter and a son. I named him 'Megumi' to signify his role as a blessing in our lives. It might sound sentimental, but during my wife's pregnancy with him, there were more challenges compared to when she was expecting our daughter. The doctor mentioned a high risk for both him and my wife. He was also born prematurely and had to spend some time in the NICU after his birth."

As Toji delved into his personal life, his gaze became distant, as if he were revisiting memories, both joyful and painful. His storytelling held an inexplicable allure, captivating you. You felt drawn to his narrative, like a moth to a flame, and in this scenario, Toji was the flame.

Attempting to suppress the fluttering butterflies proved futile; the more you resisted, the stronger your heart's rhythm echoed, amplifying the emotions welling up inside you as you looked at your right-hand man. It wasn’t entirely your fault – the guy was undeniably attractive. His face, his hair, and, oh god, his physique. You had to avert your eyes during his final interview. And his voice? Unbelievable. You didn’t mean to ogle at somebody else’s husband, but damn.

Meanwhile, Toji grappled with a whirlwind of emotions—longing, shame, sadness, hope, and confusion. His wife remained a sensitive subject, yet he found himself freely discussing her with you. It was only the second time her name had come up in your conversations, yet there was a growing sense of comfort in sharing his feelings with you.

Toji spent a significant amount of time deciphering the emotions within him. He concluded that what he felt towards you was akin to the "suspension bridge effect." Amidst grappling with depression, grief, and a string of job rejections, you emerged as his unexpected savior. You became the catalyst that propelled him from point A to point B. Not that he was financially destitute during his unemployment period—quite the opposite. However, successive setbacks left him grappling with a sense of inadequacy.

In essence, you helped him put his life back in motion.

However, even after settling on this conclusion, he couldn't deny the palpable connection between the two of you. Toji was certain that you felt it too. Yet, like him, you were navigating the maze of your own emotions. For all he knew, you had your own personal circumstances. But when the day arrived for both of you to face each other and your burgeoning feelings, Toji was more than willing to explore that with you.

"How old is Megumi now?" you inquired curiously. Toji responded with a gentle, paternal smile: "He's turning eight in three months."

"Really? Can I..." Your voice trailed off, gradually growing softer. Toji noticed the change and turned his gaze toward you, silently encouraging you to continue. Meeting his eyes, you found the strength to speak once more: "Can I give him a birthday gift?"

"Absolutely, you're more than welcome to," Toji chuckled, placing his empty cup aside.

You smiled and said, "Please tell me what he likes, so I can get the right gift for him."

"Try books. He loves to read," Toji said, then shortly after, a laugh slipped through his lips as he thought of something about his son, "From the amount of content he’s consumed through reading, he’s becoming a smartass by the day, though it’s also safe to say he got that part of his personality from me."

"Oh, I wouldn’t be surprised," you teased, earning a cheeky squeeze on your sides.

If it weren’t for your lightning reflexes, you would have coffee spilled all over you. "Hey! Watch it!" You said to him, but your tone and delivery sounded anything but annoyed.

If anything, the gesture made your heart jump. In just a short period of time, the two of you became so close that you're comfortable poking each other and addressing one another without any honorifics. The line between superior and subordinate has vanished. It's not that you're uptight about superiority, but rather that your relationship has evolved beyond traditional hierarchies.

After the incident, something clicked, and you realized that the crush you've been harboring for Toji had finally taken hold. Much to your dismay (or not.) His demeanor that day completely enchanted you, and it's fair to say he effortlessly charmed his way into your heart without even trying.

The question now is: will you act on these feelings and pursue him?

The honest truth is, you're not quite sure, at least not yet. It's clear that Toji still holds onto the memories of his late wife, and you want to be respectful of that. At this point, you believe it's best to let things unfold naturally and see where life takes the two of you.

"So, you're ready to go back?" Toji inquired, turning to you after washing his cup.

You nodded and rinsed yours as well, saying, "Yup, let's head back."

After a much-needed caffeine refill, you both returned to your office to resume your tasks. Engrossing conversations about everything under the sun filled the day. Time flew by rapidly as you became absorbed in both work and dialogue. When you eventually checked your phone, it was already 5:00 p.m.

Toji stood up, stretching for what seemed like the umpteenth time that day. "I hope the traffic isn't too bad," he commented, glancing out the window to check if the rain had stopped, thankfully finding that it had.

"Perhaps you should consider moving closer to the office," you suggested as you organized your belongings. "That way, you won't have to worry about heavy traffic or long travel times."

"I am considering that, but the kids are still in school," Toji replied, "so I might have to wait until the school year's over before we can move."

"I suppose moving abruptly would also stress them out."

"Yeah, that's another factor. Well, are you ready to go?" Toji asked, standing by the door while waiting for you to finish gathering your things.

"Yeah, let's—"

"Y/N."

A deep, commanding voice suddenly resonated within your once peaceful office. Upon hearing it, you stood frozen in place, your heart racing for all the wrong reasons, all of which didn't go unnoticed by your executive assistant, and his eyes trailed to the man standing by your office door.

After a few seconds, you begrudgingly decided to acknowledge your visitor.

"Kenjaku."

#warabidakihime #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #toji smut #toji x you #toji x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk headcanons #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen imagine

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scribbleseas · 1 year ago

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Straight Laced, Chapter III: To Be A False Escort…

Description: After the London’s Royal Ballet company’s prima ballerina goes missing within a string of mysterious disappearances among the ballet’s young ballerinas, you finally get your chance to debut in the leading role, taking on the position’s physical toil and immense social pressure. Although this role was supposed to be your grand jeté into the spotlight, it is quickly complicated when these disappearances catch the eye of Ciel Phantomhive — the Queen’s Guard Dog. He is a captious and shrewd man who also happens to be one of London��s most eligible bachelors.

For enough profit for you to secure your freedom for the first time, Lord Phantomhive double casts you as both his accomplice to solving these dancer disappearances and… his pretend lover. While debuting as London’s new prima ballerina, you must perfect a brand new routine: deceiving all of the nation’s polite society while actively searching for a serial killer — all while being an immigrant from France with a dancer’s reputation.

What could go wrong when you realize this off-stage performance of yours may not be an act at all?

Story Warnings: detailed description of gore, pain, and violence, detailed death, smut & explicit sexual scenes, objectification, prostitution, allusions to under-aged prostitution, smoking, drinking, eating disorder tendencies (food restriction, frequent references to wanting to maintain a certain weight, over-practicing & exercising), infidelity, fake courtship, swearing

Author’s Note: Hi! Thank you so much for your support for Chapter 2. It was so, so motivating to see it and use it as inspiration to get this chapter together for you in a timely manner. I even surprised myself, lol. Don’t hesitate to let me know your thoughts about this one! And any theories you may have about the main mystery! You guys mean to world to me :)

Happy Reading!

- Dan

MASTERLIST

⇐ PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER ⇒

October 13, 1895

The Phantomhive Estate’s Drawing Room

Receiving an offer to play billiards at the Earl of Phantomhive’s manor was the premiere invite. It was more coveted than an invitation to one of his balls or banquets, or even a request to meet in his office since it was the only way to know that you were a part of his inner circle. Phantomhive’s drawing room competition was only made up of his band of closest and most powerful allies.

Ciel preferred to keep this circle limited to the evil number five, including himself. After all, there was no use in quantity over the quality of service one might offer him. There was no use in saving face for some obsequious crowd when a smaller group could achieve the same and more.

At the established age of 20, Ciel hand-picked his own company, officially doing away with the former Earl’s out of self-preservation— most of those vultures were driven by their interest to unseat him, believing that they could outsmart his developing strategic mind. He had been 13 at the beginning of his reign.

Naturally, their gross assumptions led to the creation of the Phantomhive standard of care, which tended to mean: his staff taking creative license to maim or kill in extreme cases. He preferred to allow his staff to take care of the intricacies and portray while he reveled in his guests’ screams. Ciel imagined they would think better of crossing him, in the future.

Now, he sat in his long wingback chair, overseeing the game before him, half listening to his company, half planning his next turn in his mind. There were no good shots— he’d have to skip again. It was Ciel’s policy to never shoot unless he was certain he’d score. Taking useless turns that achieved little more than nothing was not in his nature.

“…Just can’t believe that ballerinas are dropping like flies and the Yard has all of us on a gag order,” Adam Blackwell, the Oxford Gazette editor-in-chief, grumbled. Originally from the States, it took time for Ciel to adjust to his blunt way of speaking. Although Blackwell seemed as though his blunt exterior made him unqualified for Ciel’s entourage, it was his influence on widespread media that made him a valuable partner. Blackwell cultivated Ciel’s publicity and in return, Ciel provided him with breaking stories, invaluable insight, and his endorsement. Now, the journalist’s words caught Ciel’s full attention.

Ballerinas ‘dropping like flies,’ the Yard’s ‘gag order.’

Ciel wasn’t aware that Her Majesty wished to keep these deaths quiet — nor why that would be. It wasn’t as if there would be a public outcry as a result; most perceived ballerinas as crass, vain, and promiscuous. Hardly a half step better than average prostitutes. They were every noble wife’s worst nightmare, given that their husbands were willing to empty their fortune to tousle their bedsheets with them, rather than remain faithful as their wedding vows outlined.

Now that he personally knew the Royal Opera House’s prima ballerina, Ciel understood where the stereotype emerged from. He’d never met a woman who smoked cigars or disrespected him with such insistence. He wrinkled his nose in remembrance of the permanent cloud of smoke that Y/n was so attached to and the tantalizing way she presented herself.

Of course, the worst of it was that Y/n was almost attractive enough for it to work if Ciel weren’t a gentleman.

Almost, he felt he needed to emphasize.

“Phantomhive,” the Viscount of Tiverton, Gabriel Giffard said his name impatiently. He chalked the tip of his cue stick, slightly wary of meeting Ciel’s eye. “Blackwell reminds me; I needed to tell you that there has been talk,” he ran the cue chalk over the stick’s end until there was a thick blue film over it. “Amongst the barons.”

“Talk?” Ciel asked, his back straightening in the chair. Giffard, like him, inherited his viscounty much too young as a result of a tragic accident. Only the carriage crash that killed his parents was likely a genuine accident as opposed to the purposeful Phantomhive estate inferno that killed Ciel’s parents and left him a sacrifice for a deranged cult.

Now, Giffard was known for secrets, pulling them from all ranks within British society: royalty, nobility, and the low class. How he came across them, Ciel was unsure, but he knew better than to dismiss his words. “Of what sort?”

“Lord Chancellor spotted you in the foyer de la danse at the Opera House. Socializing, bidding…winning said bid,” Giffard said facetiously, already knowing that it was true because his informants would never dare lie. The Viscount’s magnetic attitude was what tended to draw people in so close— it was what made strangers turn to friends after mere moments into an exchange. Ciel wasn’t quite convinced by the facade, but Giffard was plenty helpful.

Of course, it was Lord Chancellor. The man had nothing better to do than gamble his limited fortune away and cover his shame with undignified, craven, sexual acts with any ensemble member he could afford.

“Bidding? Excuse me?” Samantha Marias Delgaudio asked her lightly freckled features twisted into a look of animated surprise. “Phantomhive? Bidding? What?” She repeated the words as if the English made no sense to her, taking a soothing drink from her wine glass. Per the norm, it was filled with her favorite rosé, a brand that Ciel had shipped in for her. He didn’t have much of a taste for wine, but she visited often enough to warrant the special shipment. Moreso, Carlo Gancia was a longtime family friend to the Phantomhive family.

“Explain, Phantomhive.” Her hazel eyes squinted at Ciel, zeroing in on him the same way a sharpshooter would.

“Samantha—” Ciel started. She reminded him of a younger Madame Red, his late aunt, Angelina Dalles. Samantha had the same red hair, a dimpled smile, and easy humor.

“Sam,” she rolled her eyes, tired of the correction. She was the second-youngest daughter of Police Lieutenant Peter Delgaudio, close right hand to the Scotland Yard’s Police Commissioner, Arthur Randall. Randall, the supercilious bastard, was not fit for retirement quite yet. In another five years, hopefully. Sam wasn’t one for formalities, but so long as she refrained from using Ciel’s first name, he’d tolerate it. Besides, she tended to let a few facts about the Yard’s current cases slip, updating him on their progress, incoming cases, and loyalties within the force. Fred Abberline was too subservient for such a service, but Sam enjoyed the dramatics of being Ciel’s insight.

“No, Sam. You need to tell us why the Police Commissioner refuses to let me report these murders!” Blackwell interjected. “I could care less about where Phantomhive decides to—”

“Oh, be quiet, we can talk about that later,” Sam snapped, always one to get to the point. She turned her attention back to Ciel. “Why were you in the dance foyer?”

“The rest of the word is that you won the right to be Y/n Y/l/n’s only subscriber,” Viscount Tiverton added, adding to Sam’s outrage. He sent bitter looks to Sam and Blackwell, irritated that they interrupted his gossip.

“Who? The lead dancer?” Sam demanded.

“Prima ballerina,” Blackwell corrected, pedantic when it came to using the correct terms.

“That means the same thing!”

Ciel sighed, resigned. He should have paid more attention to the rest of the dance foyer’s guests and disguised himself better— one of the bidding noblemen recognized him. It was a risk to so much as admit that he was pretending to be Y/n Y/l/n’s patron to this tightly-knit group. The more people knew the more likely Natasha Gusev-Wood could realize that her company was under official investigation. She and her husband were still people of interest.

Besides, it was harmful for Ciel’s reputation to be a subscriber to a ballerina. He was the Head of Phantomhive; someone of his stature needed to be courting a proper lady, not soiling sheets with a coquettish, sultry dancer. He needed to change the narrative. Soften it. Make it slightly less scandalous.

“I am courting her,” Ciel replied simply, lying through his teeth. “My bidding serves to pay her rent and keep other men away at the same time.”

“No, you must be investigating her,” Richard Clerkenwell interjected, finishing his shot. He was always one to choose the worst time to enter the topic at hand.

Clerkenwell knocked the blue striped ball — the 10 — into a hole, the cue ball stopping on the edge before the pocket. The hit cleared the way for Ciel to knock solids one and six in. He handed the cue stick off to Sam for her to take her turn, but she merely held it in her hand, unwilling to let the subject drop while she played.

Clerkenwell was an Underworld arms dealer, running a minor branch within his family crime syndicate. The group dealt in weapons manufacturing and minor drug dealing, harmless enough to remain under Her Majesty’s radar with Ciel’s aid, but prominent enough for Richard to be a strong ally for the favor. Richard provided Ciel’s house staff (his undercover guards) with the latest in arms and weapons for a strong discount.

Unfortunately, that meant Clerkenwell had the finest criminal instinct out of the four of Ciel’s close acquaintances. Although he hadn’t seen through Ciel’s lie entirely, he didn’t miss the mark. Enlisting Y/n as his eyes and ears within the dance company kept her close. Ciel would be remiss to assume she was entirely innocent. After all, no crime can be committed with a motive.

There was no better motive than forcibly removing the competition— Ciel would know. Still…Sebastian’s words still held strong truth within them, “Miss Y/l/n does not seem to have the constitution of a killer.” The demon seemed comfortable with dismissing the prima ballerina as a suspect, but Ciel was not quite convinced.

“If she were the killer, there would have been no need for her to kill anyone besides Janet Fischer,” Sebastian had said. He had a point. Bloody demon.

“Investigating Y/n? So the Queen put you on this already,” Blackwell assumed. By watching his face, Ciel could see the journalist piecing the headline, the lede, and the rest of the story together in his head.

“No, Her Majesty did not.” Ciel scowled, wishing he could send the arms dealer to an early grave. But unfortunately, that would do more harm than good. If he was going to convince the rest of polite society that he was in love with Y/n, he needed to successfully convince this room first. “The case is in its infant stages. She wouldn’t enlist me without giving the Yard a fair chance,” he glanced at Sam meaningfully.

“That’s a nasty coincidence then,” Blackwell replied.

“I merely attended the ballet and took a vested interest in her,” Ciel struggled to coax his lips into a slight half-smile, a smug look that he imagined he’d give upon sharing vague details about his personal life. It was Earl’s grin, not his own, but that was the look they were accustomed to. The poisonous look of joy on his face normally insinuated that someone was about to take an unfortunate loss. “I am her patron. Becoming so was the only way to ensure the vermin stayed away from her.”

Fine. They will perceive the utter lack of adoration in his face as protective hostility.

Besides, there wasn’t a lot Ciel liked about Y/n to put the expected lovestruck look on his face. Overt frustration and protectiveness were better alternatives, given that he could hardly muster a smile when she crossed his mind. She was everything he disliked about commoners: promiscuous, rude, outspoken. Now he would need to fool his social circle into believing that he was steps away from wedding her.

It wouldn’t be his worst endeavor for the sake of Her Majesty.

“You intend to make her your Countess? Were you not having tea with Lady Howard?” Viscount Tiverton asked.

Tiverton would tell Ciel everything he needed to know at the expense of informing his circles about Ciel to avoid unwanted scrutiny. No one knew who the Earl invited to his billiards games— that information was as confidential as Funtom stocks. Thus, Tiverton would share sanitized versions of the truth, based on Ciel’s strategic allowances. Even still, carelessly allowing this information to ripple throughout the aristocracy was far from ideal. There needed to be a plan. Ciel would need to come to a supplementary understanding with him to control who got hold of the news and when.

Perhaps, that would be a follow-up meeting between himself, Tiverton, and Blackwell.

Caroline Howard was the daughter of the Duke of Norfolk. Becoming a Duke was perhaps the only social upgrade Ciel was willing to make, given that the only title higher than a Duke was a royal, and with such an opportunity, there was no need to explore any lower matches, which would be an available Marquis or another Earldom.

Becoming the next Duke of Norfolk was well within his grasp, given the Howard family’s desire to progress their slow-moving relationship. Or it would have been within his grasp if he wasn’t sacrificing his personal life for the sake of the investigation. Ciel thought bitterly, silently cursing Y/n for her promiscuous reputation, cursing the Yard for being incapable of doing its job without his interference.

“I’ve promised nothing to her,” Ciel stood from his chair, taking the Viscount’s freshly chalked cue stick to take his turn. He lined the cue stick with the ball, taking ample time to ensure that the angle would strike both balls into position. When Ciel was careless, he missed as a result of his eyepatch misaligning his depth perception.

Though if he could kill two birds with one stone— two balls with one turn — he’d be that much closer to winning. Clerkenwell put up a decent fight; he always did. These individuals knew how Ciel detested an easy victory, but in the end, he was the champion.

“You’ve been after a Dukedom for the past two years, Phantomhive,” Blackwell shook his head, scoffing at Ciel’s flawless hit. American businessmen never seemed to understand the importance of the drawing room. Too many waged important decisions and bets on childish games such as these were made here to overlook.

“Such matters can wait. There is no crime in enjoying Y/n’s presence now that she’s caught my interest,” Ciel allowed them to draw their conclusions from those words. He righted himself and handed off the cue stick to Sam. She cursed under her breath, unhappy with where Ciel left the cue ball.

He understood why Blackwell, Giffard, Sam, and Clerkenwell doubted him. No matter how Ciel fabricated the truth, it was still inconsistent. Improbable. They knew he was after a duchy, a noble wife to round out his chessboard. Y/n was a firebrand. She was not a Countess, much less a citizen of Her Majesty, coming from France. Ballerinas existed on stage to all, and backstage to those who could afford it. A prima ballerina did not have what was necessary to fulfill the Queen’s role on his board.

“Regardless, she will accompany me to your upcoming ball, Lord Tiverton,” Ciel sent a chilling smile towards the group, daring them to commentate further. “Now. Let’s finish our game, shall we?”

No one protested.

October 14, 1895

The Royal Opera House, Outside Y/n’s Dressing Room

Y/n was due to update Ciel on the information she uncovered since their discussion at the breakfast table. In an effort to keep their partnership inconspicuous, he offered to meet her backstage and escort her to the hovel that she called her townhouse. Prior to meeting her, he explored it with Sebastian, searching for clues of her being their killer, but most of her drawers contained pointe shoes of various quality, assorted sewing tools, clothing, packs of cigars, and wine. The only items that she seemed to make an effort to hide were expensive gifts from subscribers, and given that none of the victims’ fortunes were touched, there was no reason to assume the killer worked for a financial agenda.

Ideally, Ciel would have waited for Y/n inside her dressing room and allowed her director to presume they were having relations while they were truly going over information Y/n gleaned.

Though now that Ciel was claiming to be courting her, his plans needed to chasten and publicize. What was supposed to insinuate a sordid backstage affair, now needed to become the Earl of Phantomhive bringing his romantic interest roses after her flawless role in the show and escorting her home. Keeping her safe and well-provided for was the job of a false escort, he reckoned, despite having little to no romantic experience.

More to the point: their interactions needed to become much more inconvenient. Having to bring himself to the Opera House every other evening was already quite a burden but now, he needed to spend public, perceivable time with Y/n to make his story plausible. And rake his reputation through the mud while he was at it.

Blackwell and Tiverton’s words could only help so much. At the very least, Ciel’s blatant power was enough to keep any opposition or vitriol from his enemies private.

“Lord Phantomhive!” Natasha Gusev-Wood stopped in her tracks upon noticing him standing outside her star’s dressing room. He’d purposely paid an excess amount of money to avoid the dance foyer because the scene was too grotesque to subject himself to every other evening. (Watching sexual exploitation felt abhorrently close to participating in it.) When Ciel wrote a check for three times the amount he did to become Y/n’s sole patron, Natasha seemed to understand what he was conveying.

She briefly dipped her head as a gesture of respect. Her eyes were grey-ish blue. They were catlike as they surveyed him, pausing the bouquet of roses in his hands. Half of Natasha’s weight seemed to depend on the long cane at her side, the leather handle perfectly molded to her grip. The customization suggested that she needed walking assistance for quite a while.

“Mrs. Wood,” Ciel replied, making minimal effort to match her enthusiastic greeting. He returned her singular nod.

“Y/n should let you in a moment, I’ve only just helped her out of her costume,” she gestured to her single handful of tulle, her free hand grappling with what seemed to be an ensemble member’s outfit: a simple white number with the swan headpiece. Her Russian accent hardened her English. Uncomfortable with Ciel’s continued silence, she spoke again: “Our costume director has her hands full with preparations for The Nutcracker.” He assumed she was attempting to explain why she, the director and choreographer, was dealing with tasks as mundane as dressing and undressing her company.

“I understand,” Ciel opted to use the time to ask her about her husband, William, while he had the chance. Supposedly, the man was in France, scouting new ensemble members from the dance school Y/n grew up in. The timing was ironic to Ciel: about ten dancers are found dead, and the Opera House’s owner decides to search for a replacement, ignoring the issue altogether.

It was more than ironic. It was suspicious.

“How is William, these days?” As irritating as small talk was, it was often quite insightful.

Natasha answered as he expected her to. Her full lips pulled into a smile, her laugh was bashful. “He is set to return from Paris quite soon; he was looking for an understudy for Mother Ginger, given that the role is rather precarious,” she said, not expecting him to understand the reference. “But he is well!” Ciel couldn’t sense any half-truths or hesitation in her words— either she was a trained liar, or she was being honest.

“Do send him my regards,” Ciel requested, looking to build the foundation needed to have a meeting with the man. He needed to gauge him and decide whether or not the rumors surrounding William were true…

“Come in, Lord Phantomhive!” Y/n’s falsely cheerful voice called from the other side of the door, but Ciel didn’t move. This exchange was too pivotal to the investigation for two reasons: one, Natasha was the key to a meeting with William, and two, this would be the first time Ciel admitted to courting Y/n to anyone besides his allies. Natasha would spread the word, and her inevitable recount of the interaction would need to have the warmth necessary to be believable.

“Y/n will adore those flowers. Have a lovely night,” Natasha smiled. She picked up her cane, readying herself to step away, but the fabricated vulnerability on Ciel’s face must have stopped her. It was the same look Sebastian used when he needed someone to let their guard down— Ciel had plenty of time to learn to replicate it, over the years. Beyond that, he was a rather gifted liar.

“Do you truly think so?” Ciel asked breathlessly, sparing a look at the door to suggest that he was worried about Y/n listening in and another to his flowers to insinuate that he was rethinking them. “I…wish to begin courting her.” It was a flawless construction of a well-guarded man showing a crack in his armor for the sake of love. It was storybook. Ciel fought the feeling of bile rising in his throat.

Natasha’s mouth fell open, unsure of how to reply. “I-…they are beautiful. A man can never go wrong with classic red roses,” she managed through her surprise.

“I appreciate it. Thank you, Mrs. Wood,” he surrendered a smile.

“Of course, Lord Phantomhive,” Natasha nodded stiffly, her own knowing smile reflecting his. “I wish you the best of luck,” and with that, she continued walking to her original destination, newly armed with the freshest gossip to occupy the streets of London.

Once she was out of earshot, Ciel replied to Y/n. “Ready yourself to leave. I am escorting you to your home for the evening,” he raised his voice so she could hear him.

To his surprise, Y/n didn’t argue with him. Instead, she emerged from her dressing room after several moments, a small bag slung over her shoulder. As Natasha did, her gaze locked on his flowers before she looked at him with uncertainty. “Ciel…” she questioned, her eyebrows knitting.

“We should take our leave,” Ciel suggested, before lowering his voice, leaning downwards to address her more privately. There was a relative bustle backstage, but luckily, the ensemble and stage crew kept away from the prima ballerina’s dressing room, for the most part. “You will have your explanation in the carriage. Take this bouquet and hold onto my arm,” he muttered, righting himself and offering her the bouquet. It was a small cluster of red roses bound together by a thick brown ribbon, a touch of baby’s breath and greenery accented the sea of crimson petals.

Y/n held the bouquet in one hand and her other hand laced around Ciel’s arm hesitantly. She wiped away every hint of confusion from her face and replaced it with a satisfied half-smile, her back straightening with confidence, a sureness at his side. Bringing the flowers to her nose, she smelled them and sighed with gratitude. She was a better actress than Ciel originally thought.

“I adore them. Thank you, Lord Phantomhive,” he had to look away from her smile, avoiding it, in the same way, someone might avoid staring into the sun’s rays. He made a distinct effort to focus on her choice of addressing him.

“Sebastian is outside with the carriage,” he explained, leading the prima ballerina towards the exit near the dance foyer, allowing assorted ensemble members and their patrons to catch a glance at himself and his supposed courtship partner. If Natasha served the purpose he hoped, they all would have known to keep a particular eye out for them.

The moment they settled into the carriage, their respective placid expressions dropped like masquerade masks.

“Ciel, what happened?” Y/n demanded. “What happened to, ‘we are not courting, Y/n. We are not friends, Y/n,’ hm?” she impersonated him, lowering her voice to create a husky caricature of his. Her British accent was horrifying— she butchered the language enough in the first place, but this was a step further.

He certainly expected her to react this way, given that she was the personification of the theater itself. She was all drama, all theatrics. That was part of what made her so insufferable to him, a logical being.

To you, I am Lord Phantomhive! He wanted to demand, but at this point, he was growing weary of the correction. Briefly, he wondered if this was how Sam felt, constantly correcting people’s forms of address.

“Explain!” Y/n ordered just as the carriage began moving.

Ciel released the inhale he was holding. He shouldered off his black overcoat and folded it across his lap, suddenly uncomfortably warm without the chilly autumn air to keep him cold. The desire to explain himself was nowhere to be found. He rarely needed to do so! He was the Earl of Phantomhive!

She was no one in comparison; the bastard child of a maid and her employer, raised in a dance school out of convenience for her parents. A means for them to hide their shame.

Even so, Ciel found himself looking for the best way to inform her of what had happened in the past day.

“A Baron recognized me in the foyer de la danse. Acquaintances of mine questioned me about the matter, and I needed to keep my cover intact to ensure that no one heard word of my investigation.”

“Our investigation,” Y/n interrupted, causing a flare of annoyance to set Ciel’s lips in a pursed line. He took a sharp inhale, willing the argument to die on his tongue.

“Fine. They now need to believe that we are courting— for the good of our investigation,” Ciel said dryly, tilting his chin in a show of silent defiance, daring her to raze him further.

Y/n laughed, the outburst erupting out of her like a firework, bright and full of color. Her smile was lopsided and more genuine than he’d ever seen it, even if she was laughing at him. Her knees pulled together as she doubled over, acting as if the magnitude of her amusement may as well kill her.

He rolled his eyes and put his frustration towards squeezing his jacket.

“You told your friends that you have taken a liking to me?” Her shoulders shook with the effort that it took to reign herself in.

Ciel found a new reason to dislike her: her captivating smile, the way it made the corner of his mouth twitch because he confronted the hilarity of the situation.

Only, Ciel disliked that reason. Instead, he decided to focus on his existing ones: her selfishness, the sultry attitude of hers, her stubbornness. The fact that she originally deemed her ‘too busy’ to bother talking to her co-workers. She considered herself busy? Ciel ran an Earldom, multi-million corporation, and worked as a private investigator for Her Majesty.

That was why he had little to no interest in finding a wife, after Elizabeth. To this day, he struggled to take that utter embarrassment in stride.

“I had no choice. Admitting that my intended goal was to be your patron would have dealt near-irreparable damage to the Phantomhive name,” Ciel continued, finally sobering her riotous grin. “Telling them that I was acting as your patron would have—”

“Made them realize you were investigating my company, yes,” Y/n rubbed at the bridge of her nose, kneading the amusement off of her face. “I understand. But the thought of us in courtship is…” inconceivable? impossible? inane? “…Unbelievable,” she settled on. “Me and you? We could never hope to…” she thought out loud, trying to piece the logic together.

“—I’ve already set it up,” Ciel cut in. They were always interrupting one another. “All that is necessary is your consent, and I would be willing to compensate you for the additional time, as well.”

“Additional time?” She repeated.

“Noble courtship is a full schedule. You would be accompanying me to social events and public outings…” Ciel explained, expecting her to decline. He sounded like Sebastian, the careful way he debriefed potential wives for Ciel’s purposes.

As she puzzled over his words, the carriage came to a stop. Her head jerked towards the window, peering out of the glass as if she considered the possibility of Ciel holding her hostage at his estate until she consented. He could never. She was too irritating for anyone to hold hostage— even the most committed crime syndicate would surrender her. Ciel imagined Clerkenwell putting a bullet between her eyebrows for nothing more than to make her stop talking.

“Come up with me,” Y/n ordered, opening the carriage door and letting herself out before Sebastian could.

She didn’t give Ciel the opportunity to decline the offer. Instead, he followed her to her front step and watched her unlock the rusted doorknob. He shared a nod with his butler before stepping through the threshold and following the ballerina up the old stairway, since she rented out the first floor of the townhouse to a single mother and her daughter. He forced himself to take in her living space with interest to avoid suggesting that he’d been there before her inviting him inside.

The second floor was made up of two main rooms: Y/n’s bedroom and her common room, a multi-purpose space that housed a small kitchenette and an apothecary cabinet pulled against one side of the room with two couches and a coffee table pulled towards the side. Several large mirrors and a barre occupied the free side. Every surface was filled with assorted clutter and a thin sheen of uneven dust— Y/n cleaned some areas more than others.

She told him to take a seat and wait while she showed herself to her room to change out of her leotard, tights, flats, and the ratty sweater that she used to cover herself against the cool night. Reluctantly, he obeyed, ignoring the vague scent of smoke and her floral perfume. A variety of wine bottles lined a section of the shelves, but there were only two wine glasses next to them. The only visible food seemed to be a half loaf of bread, unopened jam, and crackers.

Even Ciel’s servants ate more and lived in better conditions than Y/n did— three well-rounded meals and quarters in his guest house, respectively. She had to have relied on her income from suitors and the ballet to maintain even this standard of living.

Minutes later, Y/n re-emerged from her bedroom. She scrubbed her face clear of any makeup and changed into an oversized night shirt and short drawers, leaving her legs exposed to her upper thigh. Her shirt was practically see-through— it was white and it fell an inch past her hips, resembling a night shirt he would wear to sleep.

Not only was Y/n all smoke and drama; she was also the very personification of scandal.

Yet, Ciel’s objection to her clothing died on his tongue. Instead, he cleared his throat and adjusted his trousers, since he had yet to sit on one of her dilapidated couches. The throw rug covering the wooden floor didn’t seem any better, nor did the wooden chair hastily pulled next to the kitchenette counter. Everything in the room seemed crowded towards one side to make room for the mirrors and the barre on the far wall.

“I need to darn my new shoes,” Y/n started sifting through one of the drawers in the apothecary cabinet. “We can discuss our courtship while I do,” she picked out a curved needle, thread, a thimble, and scissors, effortlessly sitting herself onto the rug. She crossed her legs in front of her, causing her shirt to hike up and expose the short drawers.

“So you intend to follow my plan, then?” Ciel said the question like a statement.

“I wish to avenge my friends. I will do what I must,” Y/n expectant eyes watched him blankly before turning playful, understanding why he had yet to touch any of the furniture in her home. A class difference. A world’s worth of differences between the conditions they believed were livable.

Being in this townhouse made Ciel’s skin crawl. He almost expected to catch a disease from being there. And yet, he didn’t show himself out.

Y/n’s smile was lopsided, hiding a sting of hurt smoothed over by immense self confidence. Ciel knew that look rather well. “Sit…unless the Earl of Phantomhive is only able to sit on fabric created by the best of silks and threads, sewn together by the best of—” the expression Ciel gave her was frustrated to make her laugh, cutting off her own sardonic words. After giving the area across from her a long look, Ciel sat himself down, cringing at the thought of the grime beneath him. The dirt. He was nearly certain these trousers were new, and now he’d need to tell Sebastian to burn them along with the rest of the evening’s ensemble when this was all over with.

“Has anyone told you how insufferable you are?” Ciel asked, watching her pull thread through the eye of her needle. She tied off the thread and cut the excess, paying his insult little to no mind. In fact, she almost seemed amused by his comment.

“I know no one has told you how insufferable you are,” she snorted derisively. “If they did, you would not be so…you.” Her threaded needle flew in and out of the satin shoe and she seemed to be stitching around the perimeter of the flat bit on the tip. The area the ballerinas balanced on. Y/n worked the needle precisely, almost as rapidly as Ciel’s mother used to embroider.

“I happen to do rather well for myself,” Ciel thought of the ever-prosperous Funtom Corporation, his extensive list of solved cases for Her Majesty, and his winning streak in chess. He did more than well for himself; so much so that there was hardly room to grow. The only way for him to improve his status would be to marry into a dukedom or a marquis, but that was so far into the future, he could hardly imagine it. Instead, Ciel decided to focus on more pressing matters: “what have you heard over the past two days?”

“Well,” Y/n paused to think. “No one else has missed rehearsal…but I learned some more of the patron’s names. For a dancer who…passed, and current company members,” she listed out names she remembered. For the most part, she caught wind of the most long standing subscribers, but only found the name of one patron of a murdered ballerina.

“Eliza O’Malley and Lord Alexander Huntington— Mr. Wood said she quit the company shortly before Janet died,” those particular names were the next step in the investigation, surely. Lords Tiverton and Huntington were throwing a joint ball at the end of the week to commemorate their corporation’s grand opening. It was some sort of soap manufacturer, amongst other luxury items for the washroom. There was nothing particularly special about the company’s product, but Ciel imagined it would do well because the Viscounts advertised it as luxury.

“I know Lord Huntington,” Ciel told Y/n about his and Lord Tiverton’s company and upcoming event. “We should make an appearance together. See if he knows anything of what happened to O’Malley,” the Yard found the ensemble dancer in pieces, her body partially pecked apart by vultures two blocks away from her home. The Undertaker suggested she died of a heart attack due to hard drug use. If she weren’t the eighth ballerina to die over the past month, the Yard would have ruled it an accident.

“If it is one killer, they are certainly well read and dedicated, my Lord. This is a wide variety of means to kill a human,” Sebastian had mused, likely amused at the thought of how fragile the human body is.

Ciel could tell Y/n wanted to ask what happened to Eliza, but she hesitated, leaving the question on her pursed lips. It was one of the more gruesome ends involved in this case. Ciel opted to spare her— there was little he detested more than crying. It was a waste of time and energy.

Not all of the bodies have been recovered yet, either. Ten merely commemorated how many ballerinas have been reported as missing. But the six of them found have all been dead.

“For one person to have the ability to kill these dancers in so many ways insinuates that they can directly manipulate their victim’s schedules,” Sebastian continued. They were looking for an authority figure. Someone with power— like a common patron, or William Wood himself. The man needed to return to London, and soon.

“We would need to attend after my performance,” Y/n tied off her stitch and repeated the process for her other pointe shoe.

“Fine. Have you attended a noble ball before?” Ciel asked, unsure if commoners held such events. Though, one glance at Y/n’s home suggested they did not.

“Yes, I have,” she didn’t need to explain, because Ciel had an idea as to why she would attend one. Subscribers with twisted morals were more than eager to show off their beautiful belongings, even if a living human qualified as such a thing. “Rather boring affairs, are they not?” Y/n asked rhetorically.

He reminded himself to write Y/n a larger check. No one deserved to sell their body to live— even if Y/n was, by far, the most frustrating person Ciel had come across in his life. That foyer saw to years long of demeaning abuse, no matter how content she pretended to be.

The insignia on Ciel’s torso burned as a reminder. The Mark of the Beast. He forced himself to swallow down the forming lump in his throat.

At least they shared a mutual disdain for the events, though he suspected for different reasons.

“You nobles are extremely rude,” Y/n claimed, wrinkling her nose as if she’d consumed something bitter. “You all grow up in such…lavishness; I would think your personalities would be slightly more pleasant for it.”

“And what exactly makes you believe you are so much more amicable?”

“Should you not know, Ciel?” She feigned innocence, batting her long eyelashes at him before her expression shifted to be more serious. Her pivoting needle paused; she was nearly halfway around the perimeter of the outer sole. “But truly: I may not be the kindest; but I am honest. I will never lie to you.” She expected him to reciprocate the sentiment, but he was reluctant to.

Ciel was a liar. A manipulator. Someone whose lies almost exclusively served his self-interest. Promising the truth to Y/n would be the equivalent of a wasp promising not to sting. Ciel could, of course, try. But if the situation demanded him to protect himself, he would. Repeatedly.

“Then I will do most everything in my power to do the same,” Ciel said cautiously, choosing the assemblage of words strategically. He didn’t promise— Y/n wouldn’t appreciate it, if she understood him the way she clearly thought she did.

Y/n’s smile was small. It held a note of melancholia, but there was a new appreciation in her eyes when he met them. She straightened her back and extended a hand, allowing her free one to hold her darning needle. “Then I look forward to our courtship,” she said, referring to their partnership and the particular way it needed to manifest. An extremely public relationship.

Still wearing his gloves, Ciel took her hand and gave it his business shake. He could feel her palm’s warmth through the leather. Her grip was firm like a nobleman’s.

“As do I.”

#anime fanfiction #black butler fanfic #historical fiction #historical romance #ciel phantomhive x reader #sebastian michaelis #ciel phantomhive #black butler fanfiction #ciel phantomhive x you #ciel x you #ciel x y/n #straight laced #black butler x y/n #black butler x you #black butler x reader

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justinspoliticalcorner · 4 months ago

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Andra Watkins at How Project 2025 Will Ruin YOUR Life:

Here’s a list of every listed Project 2025 author who worked in 45’s administration. 26 of 36 total authors. (72%) Jonathan Berry - US Department of Justice Adam Candeub - Assistant Secretary of Commerce and Deputy Associate Attorney General Brendan Carr - Senior Republican on the Federal Communications Commission Benjamin S. Carson, Sr., MD - Secretary of the US Department of Housing and Urban Development Ken Cuccinelli - Acting Director of US Citizenship and Immigration Services; Acting Deputy Secretary for the US Department of Homeland Security

Rick Dearborn - Deputy Chief of Staff Diana Furchtgott-Roth - Deputy Assistant Secretary at the US Department of Transportation Thomas F. Gilman - Assistant Secretary of Commerce and Chief Financial Officer at the US Department of Commerce Mandy M. Gunasekara - Chief of Staff at the Environmental Protection Agency Gene Hamilton - Counselor to the Attorney General at the US Department of Justice Jennifer Hazelton - senior strategic consultant for the Department of Defense Dennis Dean Kirk - senior positions at the Office of Personnel Management

Christopher Miller - several positions during the 45 administration in areas of defense Mora Namdar - Assistant Secretary of State for Consular Affairs Peter Navarro - Director of 45’s Office of Trade and Manufacturing Policy; also went to jail William Perry Pendley - led the Bureau of Land Management for 45** Max Primorac - acting Chief Operating Officer and Assistant to the Administrator, Bureau of Humanitarian Assistance, US Agency for International Development Roger Severino - Director of Civil Rights at the US Department of Health and Human Services Kiron K. Skinner - Director of Policy Planning and Senior Advisor at the US Department of State

Brooks D Tucker - Assistant Secretary for Congressional and Legislative Affairs and Acting Chief of Staff Hans A von Spakovsky - former member of 45’s Advisory Committee on Election Integrity Russ Vought - Director of the Office of Management and Budget William L. Walton - member of 45’s transition team Paul Winfree - member of 45’s transition team Paul Dans - Chief of Staff at the US Office of Personnel Management and senior advisor at the US Department of Housing and Urban Development Steven Groves - Assistant Special Counsel, the Mueller investigation If 25 of the 36 listed authors of Project 2025 worked in my former administration, there’s NO WAY I wouldn’t know about it.

Andra Watkins has a list of the Project 2025 authors who worked for Donald Trump.

#Project 2025 #Donald Trump #Peter Navarro #John McEntee #Paul Dans #Russ Vought #Hans von Spakovsky #Roger Severino #Max Primorac #William Perry Pendley #Mandy Gunasekara #Christopher Miller #Ben Carson #Ken Cuccinelli #Rick Dearborn #Trump Administration #Brendan Carr

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thesilliestrovingalive · 2 months ago

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Updated: November 8, 2024

Reworked Group #2: Regular Army

Overview

As international matters related to criminality and political issues continued to deteriorate, the Earth Federation, a unified global governing body comprising representatives from every country's government, was approached by a civilian officer who led the Joint Military Operations Headquarters. The officer suggested establishing a peacekeeping military branch, leading to the creation of the Regular Army. Following this, the civilian officer was promoted to dual leadership roles: President of World Security for the Earth Federation and Chief of the Regular Army. The forces were then divided into seven garrisons: the North American Garrison, the South American Garrison, the European Garrison, the Eurasian Garrison, the Asian Garrison, the Middle Eastern Garrison, the African Garrison, and the Oceania Garrison.

The Intelligence Agency was integrated into the Regular Army amidst concerns that it was becoming too autonomous with its own combat unit, sparking fears among ordinary citizens. Agents from the Intelligence Agency undertook high-risk missions, including deliberately allowing themselves to be captured to supply allies with ammunition and heavy weapons. Others conducted espionage and assassination operations.

The Regular Army established the Marine Corps to serve as a specialised force for naval and amphibious warfare as well as water-borne operations. Its primary mission is to deter aggression and maintain freedom of the seas. The Peregrine Falcons Squad, part of the Joint Military Police Headquarters, and the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S., affiliated with the Intelligence Agency, served as special forces units within the Regular Army. Later, the Ikari Warriors, a mercenary organisation, and Division 6, a group that defected from the Japanese Infantry of the Rebel Army, joined forces with the Regular Army after reaching an agreement.

The Regular Army was established to maintain peace and order among nations and provide orphaned and abandoned teenagers with a chance for a better future. Often shunned by society and left to fend for themselves, these young individuals were adopted by them. They offered the teenagers a supportive environment, basic necessities like food and clothing, proper education, and a stable income through jobs catered to their talents. This not only helped them become self-sufficient but also served as a means of recruiting new soldiers. The Regular Army was revered as a symbol of hope and unity, embodying a strong sense of justice and duty. Composed of idealistic and courageous individuals who genuinely wanted to serve and protect the international world, they inspired hope for a safer future for all.

Over time, the leadership of the Regular Army became increasingly power-hungry and corrupt as the chief grew dissatisfied with the military organisation's finances and resource development. In a surprising turn of events, a man known as President Marx approached the Regular Army with an offer they couldn't refuse: his company would become their primary defence contractor, supplying them with weaponry, tanks, and other essential equipment. Furthermore, President Marx would influence the chief and his colleagues to exploit their authority for personal gain and political manipulation, exacerbating the corruption within the Regular Army's leadership. The superiors are the only ones aware of the information that President Marx's supplies are tainted with questionable business dealings, ethical quandaries, and possible human rights issues, such as exploitative labour practices and financial irregularities.

The Regular Army's leadership began to engage in illicit activities, but their corruption remained concealed from public scrutiny through a combination of propaganda, media manipulation, and strategic cover-ups. While their public image remained heroic, they simultaneously conducted clandestine operations behind closed doors. These covert activities included expanding their influence, controlling resources, and silencing whistleblowers within the organisation, further solidifying their grip on power. The corrupt leadership of the Regular Army took measures to preserve the idealism of low-ranking soldiers and new recruits regarding world peace, deliberately keeping them uninformed about the corruption. Meanwhile, many high-ranking officers were either complicit in the corruption or actively contributed to its perpetuation.

The corrupt leadership of the Regular Army colluded with Ghyslaine to establish the Amadeus Syndicate, which served as a front for covert experimentation with hazardous technologies, the exploitation of living beings, including Martians and humans, and the manipulation of psionic energy. These experiments had far-reaching consequences, including the development of hyper-advanced nuclear weaponry and the transformation of Hyakutaro into the first recorded esper of contemporary history. Additionally, they created an unnamed prototype of the Metal Slug tank, powered by nuclear energy, but it was quickly abandoned due to its potentially catastrophic risks.

Rumours have circulated that the Amadeus Syndicate and Regular Army discovered a Martian crash site in a remote desert, utilising the technological debris and remains of the deceased alien entities for scientific research and experiments.

Although the Regular Army never intended to use their hyper-advanced nuclear weaponry themselves, they had been secretly lending it to various organisations, including the Ptolemaic Army and Amadeus Syndicate. These groups planned to exploit the weapons at opportune moments, seeking to maximise their impact and avoid squandering the arsenal's devastating potential. The Regular Army provided them with such a dangerous arsenal because they believed that a balance between good and evil was necessary.

As the 21st century dawned, they disregarded numerous terrorist attacks, viewing them as insignificant global threats. However, their inaction would ultimately tarnish their reputation, prompting them to employ strategic measures to mitigate the damage. These measures included assassinating journalists who threatened to expose them and manipulating public opinion to their advantage. Unbeknownst to them, their failure to act against the Central Park bombing in 2023 would inadvertently pave the way for the emergence of the Rebel Army.

Insignia

It features an emerald-hued heater shield with a green gold motto ribbon, bearing the Latin inscription "Nos globum defendemus" ("We will defend the globe" in English). The shield depicts a gilded blade with outstretched wings, surrounded by a flame-coloured halo with radiating light rays behind its hilt.

Uniforms

Cadet Uniform

They wear a blue-grey short-sleeved jacket with a brass six-button front, four pockets, and two hidden strapped compartments. They don a black utility belt that secures essential gear, and an African violet armband displays the Regular Army insignia. They also wear blue-grey army cargo pants with additional pockets, tucked into caput mortuum paratrooper boots. They carry a massive light grey load-bearing backpack containing camping gear and various military supplies.

Commanding Officer Uniform

They wear a double-breasted linden green jacket with gilded epaulets, eight metallic silver clasps, and breast pockets with the Regular Army insignia emblazoned above the right pocket. They pair this with a light blue dress shirt, a Tyrian purple cravat, and a built-in rifle green utility belt that has a cummerbund-like appearance. Their ultramarine trousers feature a vertical silvery stripe pattern and are either tucked or untucked into polished black leather boots with a low heel. They complete their uniform with a wedge cap made of linden green seal fur, adorned with a gold band edged with emerald piping and a central line of a flame hue.

Peacekeeper Uniform

Low-ranking peacekeeping troops wear a Soldier Plate Carrier System (SPCS) featuring a unique camouflage pattern of cerulean, lavender grey, and Cambridge blue, which holds ammunition and their walkie-talkie. Their uniform consists of a blue-green Lightweight Helmet (LWH), a reseda chartreuse armband displaying the Regular Army insignia, and a lavender moisture-wicking dress shirt with an open collar. They wear light grey gloves and a taupe utility belt with a holster for their handgun, a sheath for their combat knife, eight blue-green pouches for ammo, and a coyote brown waist pack for rolling bombs. In addition to their SPCS, they wear a matching camouflage jacket and army cargo pants, featuring the same distinctive cerulean, lavender grey, and Cambridge blue pattern. Their cargo pants are equipped with built-in knee pads and adorned with three silver stripes on the left leg, which are tucked into sturdy navy blue combat boots.

They carry around a taupe load-bearing backpack containing various supplies, including handheld rockets, portable ammo boxes, communication devices, portable water purification systems, first aid kits, rations, maps and navigation tools, and cultural and language guides. Their arsenal includes a large bazooka capable of firing explosives with low levels of nuclear radiation, a special material shield that absorbs shocks, an anti-personnel sniper rifle, and a minigun that shoots rounds filled with corrosive acid. Some troops are responsible for carrying and operating mid-range artillery mortars that fire homing missiles. A few are responsible for operating portable AA Machine Gun Turrets, which requires a team of three or four men to carry.

High-ranking peacekeeping troops wear uniforms similar to those of Rebel Army bodyguards, but with several distinct differences. Their exosuits are crafted from a unique blend of dark, metallic carbon fibre and adaptive, hexagonal titanium plates that have a greyish-green sheen. The headpiece features a nanotech-enhanced air filter with self-healing membranes and four durable, translucent tubes connecting to dual, high-capacity oxygen canisters on the suit's back, ensuring extended operational duration. It’s equipped with a voice modulator featuring AI-driven noise cancellation, surrounded by retractable, silver-tipped stubs for secure communications connections.

The high-impact bluish-purple resistant eye slits offer advanced capabilities, including low-light enhancement via quantum dot technology, thermal imaging, AI-powered threat detection, and real-time language translation via neural network integration. A rhomboid electric lamp, housed in a protective, aerodynamic casing, is centred on the forehead and automatically activates in low-light environments. The headpiece proudly displays the Regular Army insignia on its rear, accompanied by the national flag of the country the wearer serves emblazoned underneath.

When activated, the suit's propulsion system amplifies the wearer's movements, granting incredible jumping and running capabilities. The AI-powered computer system provides real-time strategic analysis with predictive threat modelling, seamless control of integrated weapon systems, and dynamic mission parameter updates via neural network sync. The built-in load-bearing backpack features modular compartments for various supplies, including smoke canisters, stun grenades, flashbangs, a hydration pack with self-purifying water and electrolyte-rich nanofluids, an advanced first-aid kit, energy bars with nano-encapsulated nutrients, and fire starters with plasma ignition.

Underneath their exoskeletons, they wear sapphire-hued bodysuits made of heat-resistant, bulletproof latex, along with a vest featuring four pockets and a camouflage pattern identical to that of the SPCS worn by low-ranking peacekeeping troops.

Urban Uniform

They wear a Soldier Plate Carrier System (SPCS) featuring a unique camouflage pattern of asphalt black, dirty grey, cordovan, and raw umber, which holds ammunition and their walkie-talkie. Their uniform consists of a steel grey Modular Integrated Communications Helmet (MICH), a mahogany armband displaying the Regular Army insignia, and a black moisture-wicking T-shirt. They wear khaki beige tactical gloves with grip palms and a dark brown drop leg holster for their taser. They don a black utility belt with a holster for their handgun, a sheath for their combat knife, eight mocha pouches for ammo, and a sandy beige waist pack for smoke bombs.

They wear rugged, low-profile black combat boots with a grippy sole, slate grey knee and elbow pads, and army cargo pants with two bronze stripes on the left leg. Their jacket and cargo pants match their SPCS, featuring the same distinctive asphalt black, dirty grey, cordovan, and raw umber camouflage pattern. They carry around a khaki beige load-bearing backpack that contains various supplies such as grenades, portable ammo boxes, flashbangs, a hydration pack with a built-in water filter, and a compact first-aid kit.

Special Forces

Troops who work for the Peregrine Falcons Squad wear a Soldier Plate Carrier System (SPCS) featuring a rose quartz, silver-grey, and gunmetal camouflage pattern, which holds ammunition and their walkie-talkie. Their uniform consists of a rosy brown ballistic helmet, brass-plated goggles, a Mountbatten pink armband displaying the Regular Army insignia, and a sleeveless bone white shirt. They wear brown leather gloves, a blue-grey vest with the P.F. Squad logo on the back, four pockets, and two hidden strapped compartments, and an earthy green utility belt with a sheath for their combat knife and a holster for their handgun. They also wear army cargo pants with five crimson stripes on the right leg, which are tucked into earthy green paratrooper boots. Their cargo pants match their SPCS, featuring the same distinctive rose quartz, silver-grey, and gunmetal camouflage pattern.

Troops who work for the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S. wear a Soldier Plate Carrier System (SPCS) featuring a brownish-orange, earth yellow, and khaki camouflage pattern, which holds ammunition and their walkie-talkie. Their uniform consists of a citron ballistic helmet with a bright orange futuristic visor, a platinum grey armband displaying the Regular Army insignia, and a cinereous T-shirt. They wear chestnut brown wristbands and a taupe grey Eisenhower jacket with the S.P.A.R.R.O.W.S. logo on the back and two hidden strapped compartments.

They don a chestnut brown utility belt with a sheath for their hatchet, a holster for their handgun, a holder for their tonfa, and a goldenrod waist pack for a medical kit. They also wear burnt orange paratrooper boots and army cargo pants with four saffron-yellow stripes on the right leg. Their cargo pants match their SPCS, featuring the same distinctive rose quartz, silver-grey, and gunmetal camouflage pattern.

They both carry around dark brown load-bearing duffle bags that contain various supplies such as grenades, fire bombs, cyber warfare kits with advanced hacking tools, secure communication devices, first-aid kits, waterproof match cases, portable ammo boxes, and canteens full of water.

Pilot Uniforms

Troops operating as tank pilots wear a sleeveless champagne-hued shirt, a greyish-brown vest with four pockets, and fingerless black gloves. They also wear a greyish-brown helmet with bronze-plated goggles featuring red-orange lenses, paired with harvest gold army cargo pants tucked into blackish-blue paratrooper boots. Additionally, they wear a black belt with a silver buckle, a holster for their handgun, six citron pouches for ammunition, and a cognac waist pack containing a medical kit and several smoke bombs. Their arsenal includes a sledgehammer, a foldable multitool, a portable Gatling gun, and a rocket launcher.

Troops who operate as aircraft pilots wear a standardised military flight suit with a camouflage pattern of army green, brown, and dark grey. They don burnt orange leather jackets with grey wolf fur trim and the Regular Army insignia on the left breast pocket. They wear luxor gold helmets with dark-tinted visors and earth-toned oxygen masks as well as desert sand woollen scarves around their necks. They also wear insulated, grip-enhancing blood red gloves, ankle-high, steel-toed steel grey boots with rugged soles, and secure harnesses in durable silver for attachment to aircraft seats or parachutes.

Scientist Uniform

Scientists working in this field are required to wear suitable personal protective equipment (PPE) for both laboratory experiments and field duties. To distinguish themselves from regular scientists, they wear a metallic orange armband featuring the Regular Army insignia. Their protective gear includes jade green hazmat suits with built-in luxor gold gas masks equipped with purple-tinted lenses. It also includes lab coats with two hidden compartments for storing military-issued firearms and blades, authorised for self-defence purposes.

Tactical Gear

Winter and Desert Gear

Snowy gear consists of a frosty white parka, light grey Gore-Tex pants, icy blue waterproof mittens, brass-plated goggles, and insulated black boots lined with polar bear fur. Additionally, it features warmth-enhancing layers like a cream-hued synthetic sweater, bluish-purple thermal socks, brownish-black balaclava, woollen light grey scarf, and fallow brown earmuffs. Furthermore, the package encompasses shelter and sleeping essentials, comprising a four-season tent with snow stakes and guy lines, an insulated sleeping pad, and a bivy sack.

Desert gear consists of a sand-coloured poncho with Regular Army insignia, a Desert Combat Uniform (DCU) featuring a sandy beige, light brown, pale grey, and earthy red camouflage pattern, desert combat boots, sand-resistant khaki socks, and a terracotta-coloured ballistic face mask. Additionally, it features essential survival items like water purification tablets, broad-spectrum sunscreen with high SPF, and DEET-based insect repellent.

Marine Corps Scuba Gear

The gear consists of a coppery brass diving helmet infused with a rebreather system for extended underwater breathing, paired with navy blue flippers featuring rugged, rubberised spikes for enhanced propulsion and stability. The gear includes a flexible purplish-black wetsuit with the Regular Army insignia emblazoned on the back and two red-orange stripes running along each side. Additionally, it features dual oxygen tanks that provide a maximum depth rating of 2,200 feet (670.56 metres). Their arsenal consists of arc-dropping mines, a trident, and a rifle-like firearm equipped with a scope and a bayonet-esque harpoon attachment.

Jetpack Gear

The gear consists of a flight suit featuring a silver-grey, dark blue, and purplish-white camouflage pattern, accompanied by a high-visibility ivory-hued parachute bearing the Regular Army insignia. The suit is equipped with sleek, ergonomic oxygen masks with dual oxygen canisters that offer extended duration and automatic refill. Additionally, it features dark grey helmets with an integrated communication system and orange-tinted visors for enhanced visual clarity and glare protection. Their arsenal includes an advanced jetpack powered by a self-replenishing fuel source for extended flight duration, explosive canisters, and a rocket launcher capable of firing homing missiles.

Biker Gear

The gear consists of grip-enhancing ruddy blue gloves, navy blue biker helmets with red-tinted visors and the Regular Army insignia on the back, and a brass-hued leather jacket. They ride a variety of military-commissioned motorcycles, and their arsenal consists of a grenade gun, a missile pod, a machete, and a shotgun.

Disguise Kit

This gear is used by soldiers and covert agents to safely provide supplies and intelligence on the frontlines, while disguising themselves as completely different people.

Special Gear

The Regular Army possesses two advanced special gear developed by the Amadeus Syndicate: E-Armour and Devil’s Organic Latex Lattice (DOLL). The E-Armour is known for being somewhat heavy when worn, and the DOLL bodysuit is remarkably skin-tight. Despite being uncomfortable for most people, which limits their widespread use, there are a select few who have found them wearable.

E-Armour is a ceramic-plated bulletproof vest that’s designed to absorb and dissipate the intense kinetic energy of tank blasts. The vest's advanced, nano-tech infused Kevlar-inspired material provides flexibility and protection. Tactical pouches integrated into the vest's lower hem securely store ammunition for firearms. Strategically positioned, reinforced trauma plates—sculpted to mimic toned, muscular contours—fortify the chest and midsection, ensuring critical vital organs remain safeguarded. The Regular Army insignia is emblazoned on the centre of the vest in a non-reflective, matte finish. Complementing the E-Armour vest are articulated lapis lazuli knee, elbow, and shoulder pads. Each features four strategically angled, tungsten-carbide spikes, which are designed to deflect shrapnel and incoming projectiles.

DOLL is a high-tech, stun-resistant, latex garment that bears a striking resemblance to the Doll bodysuit from Metal Slug Attack. It's combined with the vest of the E-Armour and reinforced with cutting-edge synthetic muscle tissues, allegedly derived from the Super Devil, which impart inhuman physical strength and durability to its wearer.

On the back, a pseudo-parasite is fused to the synthetic muscle tissues and latex, resembling a humanoid-reptilian hybrid. This hybrid has a skull melded to its chest, skin flaps on its head resembling those of a frilled-neck lizard, sharp clawed fingers, and sturdy legs similar to those of an iguana. The parasite houses a dead heart that generates life-saving electrical pulses and an intestinal tendril that connects to the skull's mouth, resembling a breathing apparatus. When wearing the suit, the wearer's eyes have a red sheen, and their skin takes on either a green or purple tint. These effects gradually disappear once the suit is removed.

They're able to lift up to 120,000 kg with relative ease once their muscles expand and become semi-rigid. Their bodies are immune to bullets, punches, and normal blades, but their exposed heads are vulnerable. However, emotional stress and receiving too many powerful impacts without time to recover can tear the bodysuit and weaken the synthetic muscle tissues, rendering it useless.

To activate these tissues, the suit interfaces directly with the wearer's nervous system, making it accessible to only a select few. Compatibility is extremely rare, with only about one in a thousand candidates suitable for use. However, utilising the system comes with a significant trade-off: users experience intense hunger, requiring far more sustenance than a normal human. When the wearer falls unconscious or is near death, the suit automatically initiates emergency resuscitation protocols. Utilising electrical signals from the nervous system and its own internally generated pulses, the suit administers electric resuscitation to revive the wearer.

Vehicles

Combat

SV-000 (discontinued)

SV-001 Metal Slug

SV-001 Type-R

LV Slug Armor

SVW-001 Slug Gunner

SVX-15D Slugnoid

Animal

SV-Camel

Elephant Slug

Ostrich Slug

Donkey Slug

Support

SVX-22UG Drill Slug

Protogunner (discontinued)

Slug Digger

Walking Machine

RA-TTT

TIAF600 Slug Mobile

Aerial

SVF-07V Slug Flyer

SVH-03 Slug Copter

Astro Slug

Marine

SVX-17M Slug Mariner

Borobune Slug

Middle-Son 1999

Large Scale

Augensterm

Slug Gigant

Repurposed Vehicles

Black Hound

Iron Nokana

Type-2 Di-Cokka

LV Armor

Landseek

M-15A Bradley

Hi-Do

Regular Army Base

The Joint Military Operations Headquarters, a heavily fortified military compound located in the Great Victoria Desert, serves as the primary base for the Regular Army. This heavily fortified facility is designed to withstand the harsh desert environment and potential threats, while providing a secure and self-sufficient hub for military operations. The compound's architecture is carefully crafted to blend seamlessly into its desert surroundings, minimising visibility from the outside. The facility features multiple blast-resistant windows designed to withstand extreme pressures and temperatures, ensuring enhanced security. Additionally, it’s equipped with six secure parabolic communications antennas for reliable connectivity with other military units and command centres.

The base has strict access protocols in place, featuring checkpoints and biometric scanning, to ensure that only authorised personnel can enter. Additionally, the base is equipped with water purification and recycling facilities to minimise dependence on external resources. Furthermore, it has a robust power generation infrastructure, including backup generators and renewable energy sources.

The compound features multiple facilities, including:

A robust, high-wall barrier that surrounds the compound, reinforced with watchtowers and guard posts to prevent unauthorised entry and protect against enemy attacks.

A Combat School that serves as a recruitment and training program for cadets aspiring to join the Regular Army.

A training ground for low-ranking soldiers to practice combat skills, tactics, and drills, honing their abilities in a controlled environment.

Advanced simulation rooms for immersive training exercises, allowing troops to prepare for various scenarios and environments.

Simple, functional living quarters for soldiers, providing basic amenities and housing.

A central dining facility offering standard military rations and meals.

A well-equipped medical facility for treating injuries and illnesses.

A secure storage facility for tactical gear, weapons, and vehicles with restricted access and inventory management.

A large garage serving as a maintenance facility for Slugs and other vehicles, including those repurposed from external sources.

A well-maintained storage area for food, fuel, ammunition, and other essential supplies.

Numerous offices accommodating military personnel, commanders, and support staff.

A strategic planning and operations management centre where military superiors oversee key activities, make tactical decisions, and coordinate missions.

A secure briefing room for classified discussions and situation assessments among high-ranking military officials and special forces operatives.

A dedicated facility for secure communication, including satellite uplinks and encrypted transmission systems.

A secretive, heavily restricted underground laboratory for conducting classified experiments on soldiers, developing cutting-edge technologies, and housing a mutant and supernatural entity containment facility.

Extra Information

Most high-ranking officers and special forces superiors embezzle funds intended for equipment and supplies, using them for personal enrichment.

New recruits and underperforming soldiers are often coerced into purchasing overpriced gear from corrupt quartermasters.

Highly skilled natural-born espers and special operatives, who have played crucial roles in pivotal world events and possess specialised expertise and intimate knowledge of enemy organisations like the Ptolemaic Army, often find retirement elusive. To the higher-ups, they are invaluable assets, making it difficult to let them go, even when retirement is overdue.

Members of the special forces branches within the Regular Army undergo intense conditioning, effectively brainwashing them to neutralise any enemy-affiliated individual, regardless of innocence or hostile intent. Many special operatives and soldiers accept this as a necessary aspect of their duty, unaware of the underlying psychological manipulation. However, a select few, including Walter, Fio, and Clark, secretly question the moral implications of such actions.

Special operatives serving the Regular Army are tasked with neutralising potential security threats, including journalists and other individuals who attempt to probe into their missions or the peacekeeping force's activities. This is done to maintain operational secrecy and prevent sensitive information from being disclosed.

Soldiers of the Regular Army are responsible for maintaining peace and are tasked with conducting infiltration missions. They serve a supportive role because the Earth Federation prefers to deploy specialised teams to infiltrate enemy fortifications, minimising civilian casualties and avoiding prolonged, all-out battles.

Soldiers of the Regular Army possess superior strategic and combat skills, boasting enhanced accuracy and greater agility compared to their Rebel Army counterparts.

Tank pilots are known for seizing the tanks of enemies after their own vehicle has been destroyed or rendered inoperable.

Many soldiers have undergone experimentation with psionic energy, granting them enhanced intellectual and physical capabilities. However, due to faulty bioengineering and a lack of understanding regarding the activation of Super Devil forms, they’re unable to metamorphose and have not received an esper title.

All soldiers and special operatives are required to undergo genetic modification, masquerading as a routine medical test to ensure they’re healthy and combat-ready. This modification not only enhances their endurance and physical strength but also grants them immunity to diseases. Remarkably, the genetic alterations enable them to withstand the extreme conditions of space, including intense pressure and temperature fluctuations, and even breathe in the vacuum of space without protective gear. The known side effects of these genetic alterations are limited to the following: increased susceptibility to weight gain, enhanced spatial awareness, and hormonal fluctuations that lead to heightened aggression and appetite. These effects vary in severity and impact, but are generally considered manageable.

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dkaufmandevelopment · 23 days ago

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Blackstone Surges to Record High: A Closer Look at Their Impressive Q3 Results

Blackstone, the world's largest commercial property owner, achieved a remarkable milestone on Thursday as its shares surged to a record high. This impressive performance comes on the heels of better-than-expected third-quarter results and an improved real estate investment performance. Let’s dive into the factors driving this success and what it means for the market.

Key Highlights from Q3

In the third quarter, Blackstone invested or committed a staggering $54 billion, marking the highest amount in over two years. This surge in investment activity is attributed to the Federal Reserve’s recent rate cut in September, which significantly reduced the cost of capital. The U.S. central bank’s previous rate hikes had stymied real estate deals and financing, leading to increased defaults in the office market affected by corporate cost-cutting and the rise of hybrid and remote work.

Stephen Schwarzman, Blackstone’s Chief Executive, emphasized the positive impact of the rate cut, stating, “Easing the cost of the capital will be very positive for Blackstone’s asset values. It will be a catalyst for transaction activity.” This sentiment was echoed by Jonathan Gray, President and Chief Operating Officer, who noted that while commercial real estate sentiment is improving, it remains cautious.

Strategic Investments and Areas of Focus

Blackstone has been proactive in planting the “seeds of future value” by substantially increasing its pace of investment. A key area of focus is the revolutionary advancements in artificial intelligence (AI) and the associated digital and energy infrastructure. In September, Blackstone announced the $16 billion purchase of AirTrunk, the largest data center operator in the Asia-Pacific region. This acquisition is part of Blackstone’s $70 billion investment in data centers, with over $100 billion in prospective pipeline development.

Other notable investment themes include renewable energy transition, private credit, and India’s emergence as a major economy. These strategic areas highlight Blackstone’s commitment to innovation and growth.

Recovery in Commercial Real Estate

The Blackstone Real Estate Income Trust (BREIT), a benchmark for the industry, reported a 93% slump in investor stock redemption requests from a peak. This indicates a recovery in investor confidence and a shift towards positive net inflows of capital. BREIT’s core-plus real estate investments, which include stable, income-generating, high-quality real estate, showed a 0.5% decline in Q3 performance, an improvement from a 3.8% drop over the past 12 months. The riskier opportunistic real estate investments posted a 1.1% increase, reversing previous declines.

Student Housing and Data Centers

Among rental housing, student housing has emerged as a significant focus. Wesley LePatner, set to become BREIT CEO on Jan. 1, highlighted the structural undersupply in the U.S. student housing market, emphasizing its potential as an all-weather asset class. BREIT has consistently met investor redemption requests for several months, showcasing strong performance.

Furthermore, the demand for data centers remains robust. QTS, which Blackstone took private in 2021, recorded more leasing activity last year than the preceding three years combined. Such sectors, once considered niche, are now integral to the commercial real estate landscape.

Financial Performance and Outlook

Blackstone’s third-quarter net income soared to approximately $1.56 billion, up from $920.7 million a year earlier. Distributable earnings, profit available to shareholders, rose to $1.28 billion from $1.21 billion. Total assets under management jumped 10% to about $1.11 trillion, driven by inflows to its credit and insurance segment.

The Path Forward

As Blackstone continues to navigate the evolving market landscape, it remains focused on identifying “interesting places to deploy capital.” With a robust investment strategy and a keen eye on emerging trends, Blackstone is well-positioned for future growth.

Join the Conversation: What are your thoughts on Blackstone’s impressive Q3 performance and strategic investments? How do you see these trends impacting the broader real estate market? Share your insights and engage with our community!

#real estate investing #investing #money #investment #danielkaufmanrealestate #real estate #economy #housing #daniel kaufman #homes #ai #artificial intelligence #student housing #commercial and industrial sectors #commercial real estate #self storage #investing stocks

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connorthemaoist · 9 months ago

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Marco Valbuena | Chief Information Officer | Communist Party of the Philippines | February 08, 2024

Today we mark the 85th birth anniversary of Ka Jose Ma. Sison, founding chairman of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of the Philippines. We remember his invaluable contributions to the revolutionary resistance of the Filipino proletariat and people, both as an ideological leader and a practical organizer of their struggle for national and social liberation and socialism.

The volumes of Marxist-Leninist-Maoist writings which Ka Joma tirelessly produced through more than fifty years of revolutionary work, now bequeathed to the Filipino proletariat, remain profoundly relevant today. He promoted, defended and developed Marxism-Leninism-Maoism, not only during the height of world socialist revolution and construction, but especially during the most crucial period of reversals and defeats of the international proletariat, both in the Philippines and around the world.

He made contributions to the ideological trove of Marxist-Leninist-Maoist classics. These are being assiduously studied today by Filipino communists, revolutionaries and activists and continue to serve as their guide, as they shoulder the heavy task of waging the people’s democratic revolution and traverse the current difficult path of resistance, rectification, rebuilding and resurgence.

By applying Marxism-Leninism-Maoism on the concrete conditions of the Philippines, Ka Joma presented an incisive analysis of classes in Philippine society and exposed how US imperialism shaped the semicolonial and semifeudal system in the Philippines in collusion with the local ruling classes of big bourgeois compradors and big landlords. He identified the Filipino working class in alliance with the peasantry, in further progressive alliance with the petty bourgeoisie, and in positive alliance with the middle or national bourgeoisie, as the motive forces of the national democratic revolution.

By characterizing the different class forces, Ka Joma showed how the national democratic revolution in the Philippines can be led only by the working class through its political party—the communist party. The national democratic revolution in the Philippines, led by the proletariat, is a bourgeois democratic revolution of a new type. While seeking to cast away the decrepit comprador, feudal and bureaucrat capitalist fetters that have long prevented the development of the productive forces for industrial growth and vibrant agriculture, the proletarian-led democratic revolution aims to develop a progressive economy and democratic political system and thus create the conditions for modern socialist revolution and transformation of society.

Through further analysis of Philippine society, Ka Joma pointed to the necessity of waging protracted people’s war as means of carrying out the national democratic revolution, in order to build up the armed and political strength necessary to overthrow the reactionary classes, smash the neocolonial state, and establish the people’s democratic government.

Ka Joma elaborated on the strategic line of encircling the cities from the countryside, identified the specific characteristics of the people’s war, and outlined the phases of strategic defensive, strategic stalemate and strategic offensive, as the probable course and dialectical process of development of the people’s war. He showed that in order for the Party to build the revolutionary armed forces in the countryside, it must rely on and mobilize the peasant masses by addressing their demand for genuine land reform and waging antifeudal struggles for such purpose.

Through painstaking revolutionary work initiated by Ka Joma, which continue to be carried forward by tens of thousands of communist revolutionaries and mass activists, the ideas first elaborated in Amado Guerrero’s Philippine Society and Revolution were transformed into a material revolutionary force. Today, it continues to gather strength and steadily advance towards the goal of complete victory.

Despite the adverse situation borne out of the setbacks and defeats of the international proletariat since the late 1970s leading to the restoration of capitalism in the Soviet Union and China, the national democratic revolution in the Philippines persevered and scored great achievements throughout the past five decades and more. It has availed itself of the conditions generated by the crisis of imperialism and local ruling system, in order to rouse the people to fight the worsening forms of oppression and exploitation and wage revolutionary resistance as means to attain their aspiration for national and social liberation.

Ka Joma’s basic class analysis of the semicolonial and semifeudal conditions of Philippine society remains valid today, as when he first put forward this analysis more than five decades ago. This is in the same vein that the analysis of the nature of capitalist exploitation and dialectics of the capitalist system remains valid today as when Marx first exposed the basic contradiction of the capitalist system more than 175 years ago. This is also similar to how Lenin’s analysis of monopoly capitalism or imperialism at the turn of the 20th century remain valid and relevant today when we are well into the 21st century.

From the late 1970s to the present, detractors of Ka Joma and the national democratic movement have sprouted at one time or another to criticize the analysis of the semicolonial and semifeudal system. For around four decades now, they have disparaged Ka Joma and rehashed the claim he and the national democratic movement are “outmoded” in a desperate attempt to dress themselves as alternatives. Although they remain irrelevant and detached from the broad masses of the people, they should be exposed and repudiated for their incorrect ideas and attempt to draw people away from the revolutionary path.

The continuing relevance of Ka Joma’s ideas and analysis and validity of the struggle for national democracy stem from the historical fact that the country remains dominated and oppressed by US imperialism—the singular force that has condemned the Philippines to its present backward, agrarian, non-industrial state, and mere supplier of cheap raw materials and cheap labor.

The US imperialists, in collusion with the local ruling classes of big bourgeois compradors (who act basically as financial and commercial agents of foreign monopoly capitalists) and big landlords (who control vast tracks of lands and make it serve the export market), continue to prevent the country from carrying out land reform and national industrialization as this would enable the country to develop its independent capacity, make it less reliant on foreign loans and investments, less prone to unequal trade, and make it truly sovereign and capable of exercising a truly independent foreign policy.

Under the semicolonial and semifeudal system, the Philippines has had no capacity to produce steel, chemicals and other means of production in order to develop the capacity to manufacture capital goods, basic tools, machinery for agricultural modernization and food processing, and other essential commodities. The lack of capacity to produce and increasing reliance on imports results in the steady rise in prices of domestic commodities. Foreign monopoly capital and local bourgeois compradors and big landlords are not interested in raising production, but merely want to amass superprofits through the exploitation of cheap labor (including semiprocessing and menial technology or service jobs) and extraction of raw minerals and other land and marine resources, and make fast money by exporting surplus capital to infrastructure projects, dump surplus commodities by financing trade, all to the detriment of local production.

The past several decades have seen the widespread destruction of the country’s forces of production resulting in the steady decline of local manufacturing and agriculture. The reactionaries obscure this fact by dignifying the “expansion” of the “service sector,” as somewhat of a “post-industrial” phenomenon. In reality, the absurd share of the “service sector” in the local economy merely masks chronic mass unemployment in both cities and rural areas, where people engage in a multitude forms of eking out a living, in which combined with the number of call center workers, are large numbers of people serving as domestic helpers, unpaid farm work, delivery personnel, vendors, and an endless stream of odd jobbers.

The broad masses of workers and peasants are subjected to worsening forms of exploitation and oppression. They suffer from extremely low wages (as a means of enticing foreign investors), landlessness and land grabbing resulting in large-scale rural economic dislocation, chronic and high rates of unemployment, underemployment and informal work.

The relevance of Jose Ma. Sison’s writings and the validity of the struggle for national democracy with a socialist perspective becomes even more stark amid the deteriorating conditions of the semicolonial and semifeudal system under the US-Marcos regime, the aggravating socioeconomic conditions of the broad masses of the Filipino people, intensifying fascist repression, and worsening national oppression amid the protracted crisis of the global capitalist system and rising inter-imperialist contradictions leading to wars.

This is now being proven by the steady accumulation of strength of the people’s revolutionary mass struggles across the country, and resurgence of armed resistance in the countryside.

#filipino #CPP #CPPh #marxism leninism maoism #communism #maoism #revolution #revolutionary #marxism #communist #maoist #socialism #mlm #Joma #JoMa Sison #Sison #the philippines #national democratic revolution

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