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palaceofpassion · 3 years

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Tempverse: Episode 2: Camping Time!

Here is episode 2, which I had to cut down cause going past 5k is starting to drive me insane! Also my finger has been locking up.

Pyrrha Nikos was a lot of things, she was a champion, a S Grade Fighter, someone who always thought about doing the right thing. Someone who believed her destiny would be to save as many as she could, even if it were to cost her life. She was many things, and one thing that many forgot or didn’t realize, was that chiefly among everything else she was still a young woman. Another thing very few knew was that she was an actor, a person who could put on a front when pressured by others and who could mask how she really felt. And finally something that no one knew, because of the former reasons, was that she was a Grade A pervert. Though really, could you blame the young woman? As previously stated she WAS a young woman, one who was currently blossoming into her full youth, one who had urges and desires. One who was currently in a field filled with health… strong… robust young individuals who were practically spewing out sexual pheromones.

In fact, she had been invited to no less than 4 orgies in her past! So yes she was a bit of a pervert, often having wild fantasies about her competition together, or them alone, or other women and men it really didn’t matter to her. But one thing she was, something that oftentimes got her called a stiff, was someone who was devoted to the idea of destiny and love. Despite her… growing lust, she was strong willed so much so that she really never saw the point in participating in sexually charged campaigns. So despite the invitations she declined, albeit a small part of her HAD regretted that decision a few times. Though when ‘accidents’ happened and said competitors ended up in quite the pickle, well she was most grateful to have stuck to her guns.

Still to sate her urges she fantasized, which wasn’t too difficult when shower rooms were all unisex. Despite her attempts to keep her eyes low she HAD seen quite a few individuals in their bare and well… she may have had some seriously twisted thoughts. Like that one time, her old classmate and rival Arslan was actually the sweetest of girls! Pyrrha wasn’t sure if she was like her or not, hiding her devious desires, or was simply naive enough to not care… but there had been times where Pyrrha had thought about her rival being pinned. The very thought of various men and women taking their turns with the gorgeous dark skinned muscular fighter had seen her through SEVERAL heated nights.

So yes… Pyrrha Nikos was in fact a pervert… one who may or may not have had several metal piercings at various peculiar places… ones that she made SURE to keep hidden. She was fine with being called prudish, fine with no one knowing her secrets or her desires. It was easier that way, easier to be seen as abstinent, clean, pure. So she made a vow to herself, never to display herself in public, to hide her dirty little secrets taking them to the grave. She’d always been good at it, she never thought it would change.

Yet, as she rested beneath the cold droplets of a running shower head, she found herself unable to concentrate. Her thoughts laying back to the night before, the soft husky moans reverberating from within arms reach, or… or her own lack of inhibitions. She could still feel the sensation of her fingers running through her soft soaking pussy, her digits roaming across the plump lips squeezing and grinding against her needy flesh. Her new friends lusty moans still filled her ears, the wild scent of… of Jaune’s seed still clung to her nose. Every breath was filled with a deep murky aroma. Everytime she closed her eyes she could still envision the bag shifting as they… as they… as they plunged themselves into one another.

She could only imagine, only DREAM about what was happening beneath those sheets, what they were doing to one another. Pyrrha was an observant woman, always keeping an eye out for competition… always watching for an opportunity to imagine. And… while others had ‘chosen’ to mock Jaune in his surprisingly adorable onesie… in her perverse and twisted little thoughts had chosen to take a peak downstairs. Oh how easy it was to see, she was surprised at the lack of attention his lower region had received, perhaps the only other person to notice was the woman who had struck first?

As thoughts of the night before continued to flutter through her thoughts, her hands began to slowly descend down her tight finely fit stomach. Fingers, sliding between the curvature and creases of her abs roaming lower beneath her pelvis and finding themselves sinking between her drenched lips.

Yet as her hands began to seep into her flesh, her thoughts fell back to their conversation. Her eyes shut tightly as she bit her lip, everything coming back to her as clear as day.

The young Nikos had never been so far away from home, even in her old school she was still within walking distance of her family house. Even as she closed her eyes to try to lul herself into a comfortable rest she found herself unable to. She wondered, as her heart paced quickly within her breasts, if her new friends, oh a word she’d so adored to use, were already fast asleep. Perhaps they were not? Mayhaps she would be able to start a brief conversation with them. And yet, as she willed herself to fumble around, she heard them speak. Their voices but a soft whisper, almost drowned out by the snoring in the distance.

The young woman’s heart began to race, the sound of the two laying just within arms reach whisked its way towards her. “I don’t belong here…” She stilled, her thoughts running rampant at what Jaune meant. He was approved, he must have belonged here, right? “I… I faked my transcripts.” Quickly her hands wrapped around her lips forcing down the gasp that nearly escaped. She… she shouldn’t be hearing this! But… he DIDN’T belong here! Her heart began to crack, she’d just made a friend, and now she would have to part. She WOULD tell the Headmaster, even… even if she destroyed their new friendship she couldn’t let him get hurt, couldn’t let him hurt anyone else. She knew… knew that… there was a selfish part of her that didn’t want to.

Despite her reservations, they continued to talk, her thoughts in shambles as they came upon May’s response. She heard them shift around, nearly drowning out May’s soft, “I’ll protect you.” Pyrrha wondered, was that what friends did? Did a good friend still let something dangerous happen to their new companions? She didn’t know, she’d never been close to anyone before… but… but… then they got to the conversation about her. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, hadn’t meant to… but now she found herself completely enraptured by their muted musings. “She’s really pretty…” “She’s apparently famous…” “Doesn’t matter…” “She just wants friends…”

She bit upon her lips, fighting back the choking sobs that were sure to follow. Her heart swelled and body trembled. She’d never had anyone talk about her that way, they… their voices were genuinely concerned. They wanted to be around her, they really didn’t know who she was, yet they wanted to be with her. She heard the Schnee’s name brought up, but mostly in jest, though she too had noticed the lustful glances that the young Heiress had passed her way. Despite herself, despite the previous thoughts of turning Jaune in… she decided that maybe it would be okay to be a bit selfish this time around?

Then something she wasn’t EVEN sure wasn't part of one of her fantasies happened.

Even as Pyrrha’s legs trembled beneath her, her painted breath washed out by the hot flooding water above her and her toes curling into the hard tile floor, she found the events of last night to be too outrageous. Her fingers curled within her quivering hole, grasping at the soft edge of her lips and plunging deeper into her depths. Squelch her ears were surrounded by the soft sound of liquid and air passing between her fingers and her pussy. Her soft vulva folded beneath her tight white knuckles as she squeezed around her digits. Her tongue whisked around her free hand, flicking between her fingers as she squeezed upon the strong pink muscle.

She could only imagine what they were doing, and oh how it delighted her! Just the thought of May’s small short stacked body being penetrated by that ridiculous monster between Jaune’s legs set her off! Oh Brothers’ she wished she could have seen it, just… oh just watching them mate would have been so very delightful~ Would her little stomach bulge as his member punched into her? Would those huge, delicious wobbly tits jiggle and bounce with every thrust? She felt something shake inside of her while she pushed her head against the hot tile bracing herself for what was to come.

“Oh gods oh gods!” She couldn’t stop herself any further, pinning her head against the tile, her ass wiggled expectantly. Her mind was cracking, turning hazy as she continued to think about what she’d experienced yesterday. She’d seen so many, seen a ton of things, but never that close, or! Or that BIG, THAT HUGE! Jaune’s massive cock hidden and tucked away, May’s massive bouncing soft breasts hidden away by her thick jacket. How either of them moved was beyond her, but she couldn’t get the image out of her mind! She wanted to touch them! To suck on them, to feel both of them!

Her eyes shut tight as she imagined herself, pinned between both Jaune and May, her face buried between May’s massive breasts rubbing herself back and forth as her fingers squeezed into those plump swells. She imagined Jaune behind her, his massive GIANT FUCKING COCK, Piercing her insides pushing all the way into her depths burying himself into her. She couldn’t stop herself as her fingers grew faster and faster. Her body quaked as her nails curved into her soaked pussy.

She wanted something else, something bigger, harder, something to fill her with thick hot seed! She wanted Jaune to bury into her, to breed her and pin her! Despite her lustful experiences in the past, she’d NEVER felt the desire to be bred. To have someone pump all their baby batter inside of her oven. She’d never wanted to motorboat someone so badly before, to bury her face into a woman’s breasts, to suck and pinch them as much as she wanted now! Her body was on the edge, her womb quivered in hope and anticipation. She knew it was something more, something far deeper than a physical attraction. They had treated her differently, had ignored her status that… that had turned her on far more than it should have! And… and they both had a scent to them, an intoxicating aroma that she oh gods! Just thinking about the smell coming off of their bodies that morning! It was still trapped in her nose, her thoughts befuddled as she was getting to the edge. “DICK DICK COCK! TITS BREASTS MILKBAGS! BREED ME BREED ME BREED ME! FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME! COCK COCK COCK COCK COCK DICK DICK DICK! CUM CUM CUM CUM! INSIDE INSIDE INSIDE!” SHE WANTED SO BAD! SO BAD! “SUCK IT! SUCK DICK! SWALLOW! DRINK!” She tried as she might to stifle those last words, thanking the brothers she was alone.

Her lips sucked on her plunged digits as she tried to muffle her coming orgasm. With a silent scream she fell to her knees. Her core tightening inside, no one would notice the sticky clear fluids being washed away by the falling faucet water. Her chest heaved as she let her mind clear of the thoughts of last night. “How are those two doing?”

By the time Jaune had woken, May and Pyrrha had already gone off, obviously starting their day. Fighting back the residual grogginess he began to shift, slowly sitting up. Slowly he began to clench his hand into a grip and then release it, repeating it a few times to make sure that he wasn’t dreaming. After a few cycles, he felt his blood warm inside his body at the realization and dawning of what had happened last night. He could still feel May’s body pressed against his, the phantom warmth of their embracing forms floated within his thoughts. “So it wasn’t a dream…”

While he wanted to relish in satisfaction, the sound of a bell chiming above stripped him from his thoughts. “Right… I have a lot to do today.” Though as he stared down, the sticky feeling between his thighs was still ever present, he knew the first thing he would have to do was take a shower…

Thankfully it didn’t take too long to shower, and it had been a rather uneventful affair, well minus a few of the stares he’d been getting as he made his way over. Perhaps it was because of his close proximity to Pyrrha? Or maybe they’d caught notice of his and May’s little endeavors last night? He wasn’t really sure… and honestly he had more important things to think about, like surviving today. He couldn’t shake the feeling of how out of his depths he was. Everywhere he looked he was met with confident grins, robust bodies, people who KNEW they had this… people who knew they belonged here.

While he, Jaune Arc, truly didn’t belong here, he wasn’t stupid… well okay he probably wasn’t what one would call street smart, it was kind of hard to be with how much time he spent in bed. But! But, he’d been given the best education that his parents could afford, and thankfully that was quite a bit! He’d also had his sisters help him out from time to time, they’d all been such wonderful supporters. Also being bedridden had given him a lot of free time! So he’d read, and no not just comics though he really did enjoy those, no he’d gone out of his way on reading about the outside. Reading about Grimm, reading about how to survive, not once had he ever given up hope on being a huntsman. So even though he’d honestly felt like he’d never get the chance, he’d still sworn to try.

So yeah he wasn’t stupid, he knew oh how he absolutely knew that au… that Headmistress Glynda and Headmaster Ozpin knew his transcripts were fake. Which made it all the more shocking when they’d accepted him in. His parents hadn’t taken it well at first, but they’d relented when he talked it out with them. His family had their reservations about him coming to Beacon, so they did their best to try to get him ready in the short amount of time that they’d had left. He knew that none of them expected him to pass, they were banking on him flunking out during initiation. He knew… or at least he felt that Un… that Headmaster Ozpin was just humoring him. He knew that of course but… but he had to take the chance!

And yet, he knew how right they were, how he didn’t even believe in himself. You know, if he was being honest with himself right now, he’d say he was scared. Because he was he was honestly doing everything in his power to keep from shaking. He was terrified, terrified that he was putting his life on the line for something that he had no right of doing. He didn’t belong here, he was just some kid whose head had been filled with fantasy after fantasy. From the stories of his parents, to his older sister. He’d always wanted to see the world, wanted to experience what was behind his walls. So… even with how terrified he was, even ignoring the terrible shakes running through his body, he decided not just then but long ago. That no matter what, he’d do what he had to do. And, even has he knew that he could be facing his death at any moment, he decided that dying while doing something he wanted to do was far better than not doing anything at all.

Besides it wasn’t all that bad, he’d actually gotten to make friends! Him! Jaune Arc, quite possibly the most socially inept person in existence! Heck it wasn’t even just Pyrrha or May, there was that gi- “Jaune!”

At the call of his voice he was suddenly pulled from his thoughts. His head snapped to his right, as his gaze fell upon a small girl within a redhood. “Jaune!” She called out once again, a smile spread across his face. Yeah, this wasn’t all that bad.

“Hey Ruby.”

“Jaune! Jaune! It’s good to see you!”

How could he not feel better as he watched one of his new friends practically bounce on over to him, though the girl tagging along behind her seemed far less amused. “So sis, this is the boyfriend you were talking about.” He felt his cheeks flash hot for a moment, though only for a moment as he realized the sisterly tone coming from the girl. And as someone who had to endure CONSTANT teasing from seven sisters, he’d grown a resistance to it.

Ruby however, seemed to still lack that natural but very important defense. “What?! NO!” The young hooded girl floundered around trying to think of an excuse without also insulting her new friend at the same time. “I’m not looking for anyone! Evenifhewasreallyniceandhelpedmeout!”

There was a moment of silence between the three of them, however only for a moment as both Jaune and Yang began to burst out in a cacophonic laughter. “Oh Rubes, never change.”

And just like a kicked puppy, the young girl eyed her sister and pouted. Something that was giving Jaune serious deja vu vibes from his own little sisters. He wondered if it was just a universal sister thing or if perhaps he just didn’t have enough data. “That was mean Yang!”

The elder sister pulled the younger into a tight hug rubbing her face against her, “Oh Rubes, it's fine! So.” Jaune blinked as she brought her attention towards him, “No bunny pajamas today?” This time, however, he felt his face grow a small tinge of red as he scratched the back of his head.

“Uhm haha, no not right now at least. Though they’re honestly really comfortable.”

“And stylish too.”

Ah, thank goodness he’d had all that sister training or he may have thought that was a real compliment. He wasn’t exactly the best at picking out sarcasm, but that definitely was one. “I mean, I like them enough, and they were a gift from one of my little sisters.”

That had the unexpected effect of pulling the grin off her face and bringing her to a more serious look. It was like she was pondering something for a moment before she started talking, “Family gifts ARE important.” The blonde woman began to gently rub her hands through Ruby’s hair, running her fingers through the dark locks and pulling her close. “Okay, you got me there then.”

Jaune smiled at the small victory. “Oh uhm, I’m Jaune, Jaune Arc.” Reaching out his hand for a shake, which the girl replicated though she may have squeezed a bit too tight as he had to fight back a yelp.

“Yang, Yang Xiao Long, Ruby’s big sister.” When she released his hand he felt it pulse, “She has a seriously strong grip!” “So you on your way to get your gear then?”

“Yeah, it's almost time I think, and I don’t wanna be late.” “I’d rather be there early, otherwise I’m going to fret all day.”

Finally Ruby chimed back in, “Then we can all go together!” The excitable girl hopped around the taller blondes with a bright smile on her face. He couldn’t help but feel a bit of a confidence boost after witnessing Ruby’s own confidence. She must believe that she had this in the bag, and if someone as young as her could do it? Then well he could at the very least try, even if he failed at the end of the day he could say he at least made an attempt. And honestly, that's all he could ever ask of himself at this point.

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.” He could at the very least give it his all. And who knows, maybe things will turn out better than he’d expected.

May found that she was practically floating! Even the little part of her that screamed and chided her for last night’s acts was quashed down by how overall delighted she was. She’d done it! She’d practically confessed to her long time crush, and they’d almost gone all the way. It had been an absolutely fantastic experience, one that she could only HOPE would get outdone when they finally DID have their first time together. And as she all but glided across the Beacon grounds, she found herself still soaking in the memories of his touch. She could practically still feel his body around hers, his big round cock sliding between her plump thighs, or his hands grasping onto her bare bottom. Or oh how could she forget, the feeling his hot white seed soaking in her panties, foaming around the curves of her pussy.

Just the thought of it sent shivers running up her spine and making her core clench in joy. Though, and as much as she wanted to keep on with the memory, she had things to do. So, she’d left her friend behind that morning, wanting to let him get as much sleep as he could before they HAD to get up. She knew things were going to be rough for him, there was no way that whatever training his parents had given him was going to be enough. She highly doubted he’d had any official training either, so she would make due on her promise. She would protect him, and watch out for him. But first thing first she needed to get herself in the mood.

She’d spent a lot of time cleaning out her gear, her sniper though on the simpler side of things required a lot of attention and maintenance. Something she went through on a daily basis to make sure that it was still functioning properly. She would much rather be over prepared rather than not prepared, if things went bad after all. This of course meant that she was the first one in the locker rooms. It also meant that she was there when other people started to come in. She heard a few passing remarks about her getting close to Pyrrha, or how she had gotten along with the scraggly looking blonde, but she ignored them. Thankfully, and perhaps part of the reason WHY she put so much attention into her maintenance was because of how it let her wash out her normal shyness.

She was able to ignore the dreadful thoughts of dealing with others, of having to face other people. It let her simply concentrate on something that wouldn’t judge her, or talk about her behind her back. She could just put her all into making sure that the very thing keeping her alive was working. And that was something she could get behind, something she truly enjoyed. So she ignored the conversations going on around her, and gratefully so. Though, there was one conversation she found herself almost completely unable to ignore. Thankfully she’d finished her preparations by that point.

“So Pyrrha, have you thought about whose team you would want to be on.”

“I’m not quite sure. I was planning on letting the chips fall where they may.”

“Uhm, excuse me?”

Okay, that was enough familiar voices to grab her attention, though as she finally snapped out of her own little world she realized how very few people were in the locker room now. As far as she could see it was only herself, the Schnee, Jaune, Pyrrha, and two girls off in the distance. “Oh, it's a good thing I finished.” She wouldn’t want to be late after all.

Though, she felt a chill run down her spine as she began to watch the rather painful event in front of her unfold.

“What do you want?” She flinched, if looks could kill she was sure that the Schnee would be charged with murder.

Poor Jaune didn’t seem to notice though, “I’m sorry I was just wondering if you two could move please? My stu-”

“How dare you! Do you not know who this is?!” Oh she wasn’t going to let him finish. She wasn’t sure she should join in, but… Jaune would have done it for her. Letting out a sigh she walked up to the group. Though by this point the Schnee had begun to make Pyrrha quite uncomfortable if the pained expression she had on her face was anything to go by.

“And do you think you deserve to be on the same team as her?!”

“I uhm…”

“He… he didn’t… say anything about that though?” May despite her normal meekness decided to chime in. This of course had the unwanted but expected effect of earning her the Schnee’s wrath.

“And WHO are you?” Oh jeez, how could a girl just a bit smaller than her be so frightening? It was like dealing with an angry chihuahua.

Though, thankfully before May had to respond, Pyrrha decided to comment. “Ms. Schnee, that’s enough.” May was quite surprised at Pyrrha’s hardened voice as she gazed down upon the little Snow White. “I believe that you’ve been rude enough as it was, Jaune here wasn’t even asking to be on a team.” She turned her attention to Jaune, “But I would be delighted to be.”

May smiled as Pyrrha gave Jaune a reassuring grin, the young boy’s face turning a deep crimson as he sputtered out a few nonsensical words.

“Now that's most un…”

“I believe he was simply asking us if we could move. Isn’t that right Jaune?”

“Yes please, you’re uh, in front of my locker.”

The Schnee blinked as she turned towards the number in Jaune’s hand, and then the locker behind her. Thankfully she had enough and stayed silently shortly after, huffing as she decided to take her leave.

Frankly Jaune had no idea what to do in this situation, it had been awkward enough with the girl who’d already probably didn’t like him, just kind of threatening him. “Well… that was interesting.”

Pyrrha simply smiled his way, something that caught both May and Jaune’s attention as they felt a small warm feeling churn inside of them. “I hope neither of you are bothered by any of what she said.”

“None here.” Jaune shook his head, he didn’t really get famous people.

“That’s the same for me.” May found herself stating what she felt was obvious. Despite her shyness, she liked to be upfront about things.

A warm cozy feeling fell upon the trio, only to be interrupted by the other two students still in the room. “THAT WAS AWESOME!” Ruby’s sudden appearance between the three caused the trio to suddenly jump back in surprise. The young redhead turned her attention towards Pyrrha, a gleam in her eye that Pyrrha had seen all too often, however what came next wasn’t exactly what she expected. “The way you shut her down! Ms Snooty never saw it coming!” This officially caught Pyrrha off guard, maybe coming here wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

“Well now, I see why you weren’t instantly smitten by my adorable little sister lover boy.”

Jaune nearly jumped out of his pants as Yang suddenly appeared by his side, her arm resting on his shoulder, “You’ve got these two beauties fighting over! Heck one of them’s even a champion!”

Pyrrha couldn’t help but flinch at being called champion, even if this woman, she didn’t know their names, said it only in jest towards Jaune. For now she’d let it slide, though she did take note of the way Jaune’s demeanor flattened. Regardless, now wasn’t the time for that, they would all need to be at their utmost best if they wished to survive.

“Well uuuuh! We should get going!”

The younger girl, Ruby she believed her name was, decided to break the awkwardness.

Pyrrha nodded, “I agree.” The sooner she got her partner, the better things would turn out. And hopefully, peering over to Jaune and May, she would end up on a team with these two splendid individuals.

Jaune wasn’t ready for this! He’d already been prepared for what was to come, but actually standing on a launchpad without any real plan other than “Use your Aura.” was not something that he felt comfortable with.

“Today will be the day that you decide not only your partners, but your teams.”

“Oh man!”

“I knew it!”

Jaune’s face scrunched as he heard two different voices in the background. One he recognized as Ruby, and the other he didn’t.

He couldn’t really argue with Ruby’s dismay, finding their partners in the middle of a forest was going to be awfully troublesome, it didn’t help that it was simply adding more pressure onto him, something he REALLY didn’t need right now.

“Oh gods I hope I don’t hurl.”

That had been another thing he’d been worried about when his elder sister had informed him that they’d be flying over the valley.

“The first person you make contact with will be your new partner.”

“Oh that's… that doesn’t seem like a good way to build partnerships!”

“As for teams?”

Ozpin took a sip of his ‘coffee’. Of course Jaune knew it wasn’t actually coffee, if he had to guess it was either tea or hot chocolate. The man couldn’t handle anything bitter on his tongue. He had a serious sweet tooth about it.

“Well, that’s a secret.”

Even in this rather unfortunate situation, Jaune found the time to roll his eyes.

“Now then, Professor Goodwitch?”

Jaune’s attention fell upon the disciplinarian and vice headmistress of Beacon Academy. Probably the only real reason he’d actually made it in. Even as he took the time to scan her cold demeanor, he couldn’t help but smile. As scary as she was when she was stern and in her working mood, he’d always see her as nothing more than his loving aunt.

“You will be launched one at a time into the Emerald Forest.”

This he knew, “And when you touch down you will make an attempt to route with your fellow students. The first individuals you make eye contact with will become your partner.” He caught note of the s at the end of individuals, and that confused him slightly. Had she miss-spoken?

“From there, you have 48 hours to survive.”

He blinked, this was different from what Rua had told him it would be! But… survival? He could make do with that! Surviving off the land was probably the ONLY thing he was good at.

One nasally redhead decided to speak up, “What? What does that have to do with being a huntsman!?”

He was dutifully ignored.

“We have provided all of you with a starter pack.”

“Oh, that's what this is!”

He heard Yang call out this time.

“In it you will find various items, such as rope, a flint and steel, and most importantly a flare. If ever you feel that you are unable to continue you and your teammates must decide on withdrawing. Do note, there ARE Grimm in the forest. You will have to learn to balance your survival instincts as well as your combat. Being a Huntsman will often leave you in situations where you are low on supplies, or have to forage to survive. This will be a good deciding factor on if any of you actually have what it means.”

And with that she fell silent, pushing up her glasses as she took her place behind Ozpin.

“Well then, any questions?”

Jaune didn’t say anything, for the first time since he got here, he was feeling confident… except there was one thing he wanted to ask. Raising his hand he was also ignored.

“Good, I wish you the best of luck.”

He couldn’t help but frown, catching the smile on Ozpin’s face as he was suddenly shot into the air, “I HAD A QUESTION!”

Glynda watched as her nephew was suddenly launched into the air, having not noticed that several other students had already been sent off before him, “You know, Dana’s probably going to hear about that.”

“Oh… hmm…”

Ozpin frowned, that wasn’t good.

“Well… he should be fine, he always did enjoy reading survival guides.”

Glynda simply shook her head and sighed, this was going to be a very long initiation. And, while she was supposed to be impartial, she did hope her nephew ended up on a good team.

“So… has everyone already placed their bets onto the betting pool yet?”

Glynda frowned, “You know how I feel about betting…”

“Well?”

“Ugh… yes.”

“And?”

“Oobleck believes that at least a few students will get frisky during the initiation. He stated that Winchester is definitely going to try something.”

She glowered at the thought, “I don’t blame him… god I hope no woman ends up on his team.”

“Agreed.”

“Peach thinks that Lie, Valkyrie, and Sustrai will be up to some form of mischief and hanky panky.”

“Mmhmm.”

“And I believe that Zedong and Arc will push their relationship a little further.”

“Oh come now, that’s an easy bet. We all could practically hear them last night.” He took a sip of his drink once more, “I’m betting that Nikos snaps, you can smell the repression on the girl a mile away, your nephew is in danger.”

“I swear, he’s just like his mom…”

#tempverse #Jaune Arc #Pyrrha Nikos #May Zedong

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

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Unfettered (aka NHS goes feral) - part 3 - previous parts: on ao3 or tumblr pt 1, pt 2

Lan Xichen had the strangest feeling that something was going to happen.

He wouldn’t pretend that he had a touch of foresight – life had shown him the hard way how completely he lacked any sorts of skill in that direction– and there was nothing altogether unusual about anything that had happened in the past few days of the war. Lan Xichen was helping with so much more now than he had during the Sunshot Campaign, when he’d been able to be a little above it all as a mere courtier or a single but powerful scouting force, thanks in large part to his sect’s then-existing weakness and Nie Mingjue’s utter brilliance. Nowadays he had to deal with the endless drudgery of war administration: the clean-up before and after battles, the mechanics of feeding and supplying all the cultivators in their front lines, planning their next move and the next after that…

Nie Huaisang had received a message and stormed out, looking annoyed, but that wasn’t new, either.

There were many demands on his time, after all. Nie Huaisang might not have much experience at war on a personal basis, having largely (and willingly) been sidelined during the Sunshot Campaign, but he was a sharp study and an excellent judge of people. He managed their generals – selected for merit without any attention to what sect they were from, if any – with an iron fist that rivaled his control over his own disciples, and on top of the war there was also his extensive network of spies, his constant scrutiny of their supply lines, his supervision of internecine disputes between the sects…

The divisions between us will be the first place Jin Guangshan strikes, he had said – snarled, rather – at the last meeting between sect leaders, taking to task men twice his age without so much as the blink of an eye. I want this petty bullshit between you resolved, now, and I don’t care how many generations you’ve been fighting over it. If you don’t fix it, I’ll fix it for you, and I assure you that neither of you want that.

They’d resolved it.

After all, Nie Huaisang was right: no one wanted him to step in.

It was a little ironic, Lan Xichen thought. The entire war had started because of Jin Guangshan’s lust for power, his desire to be called Chief Cultivator – a term Nie Huaisang denounced, as Nie Mingjue had before him – and now it was Nie Huaisang to whom the cultivation world deferred without question.

People were afraid of him.

It still seemed a little ridiculous to Lan Xichen, as if at any moment someone would step in and say that it was all a joke that they’d all been taken in by. That Nie Huaisang was still the excitable little roly-poly puppy he’d always been, Lan Xichen’s good friend’s little brother: stubborn and cute and smarter than he pretended to be, interested in nothing but his art and his fans and his clothing, lazy and indolent and unabashedly happy in a way that had brightened Lan Xichen’s day to see, every time.

He wasn’t, though. And it was Lan Xichen that had helped make him into what he was now.

During his travels, he’d heard cultivators in the field referring to Nie Huaisang as the Pallbearer, obliquely calling him the virtuous mourner as if he were a death-god whose name should not be directly uttered lest it draw his attention – it wasn’t anything Nie Huaisang had accepted as a personal title, utterly inauspicious as it was, but if he didn’t take one soon, he’d be stuck with it. If he wasn’t already.

People were simply uncomfortable calling him Nie-er-gongzi the way they had before, and Lan Xichen didn’t blame them one bit – the Nie-er-gongzi of the past was unrecognizable in the man of today.

But neither could he blame Nie Huaisang for refusing the title of Sect Leader Nie as long as his brother still had a single spark of life in his body.

Nie Mingjue…

Lan Xichen missed him terribly.

He knew he didn’t have the right to – Nie Huaisang had made that clear enough – but he did. He missed his old friend, with his confidence and his kindness and his goodness. He missed having a confidant who esteemed him and who trusted him, who shared everything with him without a moment’s hesitation, who always tried his best and honored those who did the same.

He’d once, and only once, caught a brief glimpse of Nie Mingjue after everything had happened: he’d been in bed, pale as death, face quiet and slack and peaceful in a way it never was, with doctors surrounding him. At the time, they were working furiously to save his life as Nie Huaisang paced furiously outside the door, refusing food and only drinking enough water to replenish the tears that streamed endlessly down his face.

That had been early on, before they’d realized Nie Mingjue had lapsed into a deep coma from which there was no telling when or if he would awake and, even if he did, in what state he would be left in. That had been before Nie Huaisang had banned Lan Xichen from the Unclean Realm…banned everyone, really, hosting them anywhere else he could rather than allow them anywhere near his brother when he was vulnerable.

Before he’d slowly started giving up hope. Before they all had.

It’d been years, after all. Surely if Nie Mingjue’s indomitable strength could heal him, it would have done so by now?

Of course, even if Nie Mingjue did eventually wake up, it wasn’t as if Lan Xichen would get his friend back the way it had once been. Nie Mingjue had always been righteous to the point of rigidity, willing to make the hard choices to punish those who had done wrong no matter their identity, and Lan Xichen had failed him so thoroughly, so completely…

Guiltily, too, he knew that if Nie Mingjue woke up, he’d undoubtedly step up as general once more, coordinating everything the way he had during the Sunshot Campaign – and that meant they wouldn’t need to rely on Lan Xichen’s assistance anymore.

Nie Huaisang had made that clear, too.

Whoever had raised his ire by sending him that message that had pulled him away from their work together…well, they’d better have a very good excuse. Nie Huaisang hated to be interrupted, his temper as short as anyone in his family’s had ever been, and his tongue was more poisonous than Jiang Cheng’s.

Lan Xichen would know, being its most frequent target.

Nie Huaisang had never forgiven Lan Xichen in his part in preserving Jin Guangyao’s life, and lacking the actual assassin to rend to bits, he had grimly decided to make do with the accomplice. He needled Lan Xichen at every instance, taunting him with his failures and deficiencies, making nasty jibes and underhanded remarks that cut deep – and Lan Xichen deserved every single one of them.

Back then, it had been Lan Xichen who had hesitated, refusing to believe the truth. Refusing to believe that his then (and, perhaps, still) beloved A-Yao could ever do such terrible things of which he had been accused, either at his time in the Nightless City or the assassination of Nie Mingjue – he had pushed back, prevaricated, insisted on investigating more, finding out more…in the end the truth had come out in all its ugly wretched filthy glory and the only thing his foot-dragging and indecisiveness that he’d pretended was a devotion to justice had gotten him was Nie Huaisang’s endless disdain.

The worst of it, though, wasn’t the humiliation or the insults, nor his feelings of failure and guilt.

No, it was the way his foolish heart raced at how Nie Huaisang looked now, with all restraint a distant memory – the sharp Nie features on his delicate face turning from blurred to clear as the childhood fat on his cheeks melted away; the intelligence that flashed in his eyes, now unhidden by any pretense or indifference; the utter brilliance in the casual way he rattled off orders, effortlessly taking command without permitting any backtalk; the way he moved, a mixture of the martial general and a dancer’s grace; the way everything about him perfectly fit to Lan Xichen’s taste –

He really was a fool.

He had a crush on you for years, Lan Xichen reminded himself. Nie Mingjue even told you about it, he’d even approved of it back then if only you were interested, and yet you pretended you knew nothing. But now, now when he hates you, despises you, sees you as little better than a worm to crush beneath his heel, now is when you finally choose to see what’s always been there?

He hadn’t said anything to Nie Huaisang about it, of course. There wasn’t any point when Nie Huaisang already thought of him in the worst possible terms – weakling, willfully blind, murderer – and he could easily imagine how it might go, if he ever tried anything.

(“I heard some soldiers say that I resemble Jin Guangyao,” Nie Huaisang had mused one day, his hands locked behind his back as he looked down at their troops training in the field. His voice was cold as ice and sharp as a blade. “Though there’s some disagreement as to whether it’s my face or the devious turns of my mind that bring up the comparison. I thought I’d ask you, Zewu-jun, you being the expert and all – am I a good replacement? A suitable stand-in? If I smile at you enough times, will you do whatever I say without question, the way you did for him?”

I would already do anything for you, Lan Xichen had thought at the time, full of sorrow. In a way that goes well beyond what I felt for him. But even if I told you, you wouldn’t believe me, would you?)

No, it was clear enough to Lan Xichen that his father’s blood ran strong in him, dooming him to only love where he was not loved in return, and to finally realize the strength of that love only when it was too late. At least it seemed that Lan Wangji had escaped that fate with Wei Wuxian, their earlier misunderstandings aside.

A moment later, as if summoned by his thoughts, the man himself appeared.

“Oh, Zewu-jun, there you are! Have you seen Nie-xiong?” Wei Wuxian asked, popping his head in through the door. Lan Wangji was a few steps behind him, waiting patiently as he always did – he was always patient with Wei Wuxian, gentle in a manner that reminded Lan Xichen of the way he sometimes cared for the wild rabbits back at the Cloud Recesses.

They hadn’t spoken much, of late. Lan Wangji had understood Lan Xichen’s weakness and had not held it against him, but that didn’t mean Lan Xichen had forgiven himself, nor did it lessen the sting of shame he felt over events he felt must have lost him the respect of his younger brother, no matter how Lan Wangji denied it – it was easier to focus on matters of war.

“He was called away suddenly, I’m afraid,” Lan Xichen said. “He left a few shichen ago, but he said he’d be back in time for dinner.”

“Dinner has already passed,” Lan Wangji said, his voice neutral – an obvious reprimand for Lan Xichen for having not noticed, shaded with concern over the way Lan Xichen didn’t always eat the way he should. He wouldn’t be hurt by it, he practiced inedia the way they all did, of course, but that didn’t mean he should miss meals if he didn’t have to. “He has not yet returned?”

“Not that I’ve noticed. But if it’s that late, he should be back soon. Do you need him for something urgent?”

“As urgent as anything else in this war,” Wei Wuxian said with a shrug. “If you see him, let us know.”

“Why do you assume I’ll see him first?” Lan Xichen asked, a little amused, but Wei Wuxian blinked at him as if he’d said something foolish.

“He always comes to you first,” he said. “Hadn’t you noticed?”

Lan Xichen’s breath caught briefly – no, he hadn’t noticed, and his mind immediately started to race, his heart growing warm…but no. He only was being foolish again. As the army’s courier, its administrator, Lan Xichen was the obvious person for Nie Huaisang to contact if he wanted to get his plans spread out to everyone as soon as possible.

There didn’t have to be anything more to it than that.

“So when he arrives, if you could just tell him –”

“No need,” Lan Wangji interrupted. “He is approaching.”

A few moments later, and it was clear from the footsteps that Lan Wangji was right, as always – when Lan Wangji was younger, Lan Xichen used to tease him about having the ears of a bat, capable of detecting everything, and sometimes he really thought it might be true.

They waited, and the door opened, and Lan Xichen instinctively turned away as Nie Huaisang let himself in, not wanting to see those hard eyes turn even harder, the instinctive sneer that rose to Nie Huaisang’s lips at the sight of him that it always took him an extra moment to suppress.

“Nie-xiong?” Wei Wuxian asked, his voice rising a register in his shock. “What happened?”

Lan Xichen turned back at once, suddenly cold all over in terror. Had Nie Huaisang been injured? Some ambush, some attack, or worst of all a garrote made of guqin string the way he’d so foolishly taught A-Yao – but no, when he examined him with his eyes, Nie Huaisang looked hale as always, but for the redness and swelling around his eyes.

He looked for all the world as if he’d been –

Crying?

And yet Lan Xichen knew that Nie Huaisang hadn’t wept in years. One could probably accurately say that Nie Huaisang hadn’t had any expression in years, nothing that wasn’t a sneer or a grimace, maybe at best a smirk. What could have caused him to do so now…?

Nie Huaisang shook his head and unexpectedly – smiled.

A real true smile, his eyes curving into crescents and wrinkling at the corners, his cheeks glowing pink and his teeth flashing just like when he was younger and more innocent and smiled like that all the time. A smile of the sort that Lan Xichen hadn’t appreciated when he had it, the sort he’d thought was lost forever.

Lan Xichen’s heart stopped in his chest.

He wished he could stop this moment, too, to keep it with him for the rest of time.

“It’s da-ge,” Nie Huaisang said, beaming. “He woke up.”

Oh, Lan Xichen thought. Oh.

Oh no.

#mdzs #lan xichen #nie huaisang #wei wuxian #lan wangji #my fic #my fics #unfettered #xisang

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marshmallow-phd · 4 years

Text

Bottom of the Glass

Genre: Bodyguard!AU, Angst

Pairing: Jinyoung x Reader

Summary: It’d been almost ten years since you left the life of glitz and cameras behind, never looking back. But someone refused to let go. When danger comes knocking, your father insists on hiring the best to keep you safe. Reluctant, you agree. Park Jinyoung is constantly by your side, but as the stalker gets closer, will he be able to keep you safe without getting too close himself?

Part: 1 I 2

This was the kind of life you always should have lived.

Teenage you wouldn’t be able to understand. That girl was too lost in the flashing lights and the glamor of magazine covers to understand the sacrifices that came with that lifestyle. Those things felt trivial: regular school, normal sleeping hours, being in charge of your own image and your daily activities. What was a classroom compared to flying to Paris for Fashion Week and being photographed on the red carpet?

As a child, you were used to being told what to do and how to behave, so it seemed like routine when your handler changed over from your parents to your manager. You understood that doing what you were told kept you on schedule and in work. They say that hindsight is twenty-twenty. An understatement if you’d ever heard one.

The paperwork and awaiting decisions could feel overwhelming at times, but at least you were the one making the decisions. You had a say and you weren’t treated as a money machine. Yes, as someone with employees, you had people depending on you for their paychecks, but the relationship was different. You weren’t being exploited. Rather, you were looked to for guidance. You might not have been the head honcho of the hotel business, but someday you would be. That was a legacy you truly held on to.

“A package arrived for you, Miss.”

You didn’t even bother to look up as you waved uninterested to your assistant. “Just set it down on the table.” Right now, these budget papers needed your attention. “I’ll open it later.” You hadn’t been expecting anything, but that wasn’t unusual. Partners or sponsors occasionally sent new products to test out or as a gift to keep the mutually beneficial relationship going strong.

“Yes, ma’am.” Jun put the small cardboard box on the coffee table set up on the other side of your office before bowing and leaving.

For another hour, you poured over the suggestions from the different departments of what they believed they needed to fully function for the upcoming fiscal year. All the numbers were beginning to blur together as a headache was starting to pound against your skull. You needed a break.

Yes, this was a much better career for you. Although those looking from the outside might see it as a step down, they didn’t fully understand. It was easy to look at the smiling face on a promotional campaign and stop. They didn’t dig deeper. The need to appear perfect but never reaching that level, the lack of decisions placed in your hands, the lack of privacy. What extremes had you gone to avoid paparazzi or overly adoring fans? How many dates had you gone on that were ruined either because the guy didn’t want all the attention or because that was exactly what they wanted?

Standing up, you stretched your legs by pacing around your office. Thankfully it was spacious enough to give you a good amount of room, letting you make large laps to get the blood flowing again. It was an office fit for a director with its tall windows on the top floor. Your father’s office was a few doors down the hall and even larger than yours. Maybe you should pace in there instead, to get more steps in. With the sun going down on the horizon, the chances of your father still being around were slim. Unlike you, he tried to keep to normal working hours. It made your mother feel more at ease about his health. A troubling concern that bothered you, too. When you were child, your father was Superman, invincible. As an adult, you were no longer shielded from the truths of an ailing body.

Before you could decide to check if his office was indeed empty, the package caught your eye. The return address was a P.O. Box, absent of a name of whom it belonged to. Strange. It was also addressed directly to you, no formal title preceding it, as was often the case with promotional packages. You didn’t get too many delivers in this manner that weren’t of the router or legal envelopes variety. Grabbing a pair of scissors from your desk, you cut the tape and pulled back the cardboard flaps.

And then you screamed.

The box fell from your hands as Jun came running back into the room.

“Ma’am, what happened?” he asked frantically. With a trembling hand, you pointed to the package that was now spilling out all over your carpet.

Old magazine clippings covered in red smears - smears that were obviously made of blood.

“Don’t touch anything,” Jun swallowed thickly as he backed you away. “I’ll call the police and have security review who dropped it off.”

You nodded, unable to voice anything, too paralyzed by fear. Because this was no ordinary threat. This had nothing to do with who you were today. You knew those clippings, those old articles that you hadn’t thought about in years. That part of your life had long been behind you. The only remnant of it was the rare “Where are they now?” tabloid entry that no one read. So why had someone done this? Why now?

No.

No, no, no, no, and no.

There was no way you were going to agree to this. Your life was exactly the way you wanted it to be and you didn’t need some over muscled buffoon messing it all up. In your opinion, you should let the detectives do their work while you let this creep know that you weren’t scared of him. The initial shock of the first package had worn off and now you were just pissed.

“I don’t think that this is necessary. At all.” You were determined to with this argument as you sat across from your father in his living room. His face was scrunched with worry and dark circles pulled at the skin underneath his eyes. When he called you over to your childhood home, you thought he was simply going to give you an update on the police investigation into your stalker.

Hah.

Instead he had a bomb to drop on you – no pun intended. His idea of keeping you safe with this stalker on the loose. If it had just been the one package, you would have had a stronger argument. But the phone calls started two days later. No words were spoken, just heavy breathing. You couldn’t even get a creative psychopath.

“I will not lose my only child,” your father insisted.

“I can take care of myself,” you said. “Increase security in the main lobby and start screening all packages that come in. We don’t need to go to extremes.”

Your father was much better at presenting counter arguments. “What if the stalker manages to get through the front lobby? Or if the mail comes to your home next time? Or if he approaches you at a restaurant or the park? Distanced security will only go so far. I need someone who will be there in a split second if something were to happen.”

“Father, please, do not stick some stuck up, full-of-himself babysitter on me at all times.”

“A babysitter is meant for children, and from what I see, you’re a grown woman in trouble.”

In the doorway leading from the main hallway to the living room stood three very different, yet very imposing men in tailored black suits. The one who spoke stepped forward. His black hair was parted on the side, curling slightly over his forehead. Two little dots sat below his left eyebrow. He possessed a fierce sharp face that had the ability to look… bored, almost. The others that flanked either side were complete opposites: one short with light brown hair and a stocky build, the other tall with platinum hair and a lankier frame. Not exactly the run-of-the-mill bodyguards. Were these the ones that would be stuck with you all day and night?

“Ah, Jaebeom,” your father greeted as he stood from his spot on the couch opposite of where you stood. Walking around, he shook this Jaebeom’s hand enthusiastically. “Thank you for coming. Your agency came highly recommended.”

Jaebeom placed his hand against his chest, bowing gratefully. “We’ve worked hard to gain our reputation.”

“And will one of you three be guarding my daughter?”

“Only in the areas where extra protection is needed,” Jaebeom said. “Given the gravity of the situation, I’m putting my best man on this.”

Crossing your arms, you felt like the child who got caught with their Halloween candy under the bed and now the parents were talking about what punishment to deal out. “And who would that be?”

“Park Jinyoung,” the silver haired one smirked.

“He’s finishing up another assignment at the moment, so he couldn’t be with us today,” Jaebeom said.

You raised an eyebrow. “What kind of assignment?”

“A short term one.”

A bit cryptic, but you were smart enough to know when a battle wasn’t worth fighting. Whatever this Park Jinyoung was doing before he would stick to you like flypaper, it was none of your business. A small little prayer that his assignment would take longer than expected and wouldn’t show up at all was cited in your head. Pointless. Surely, Jaebeom would just insert another guard until “his best man” was available again. Your father would insist.

“I thank you for your attentiveness on this.” For the first time in weeks, the tension in your father’s shoulders released. Guilt twisted at your stomach. Though you were sure that, with a little bit of time, this stalker would get bored and move on, your father’s worry was unsurmountable.

You didn’t want to deal with this. Turning away from the others, your arms moved from a defensive position to one where you were holding yourself together. Life wasn’t supposed to be like this. Not now that you were the boss, now that you were behind the scenes, away from the red-carpet premieres and flashing bulbs that burned your retinas. You had a grip on all aspects of your life. Your apartment was decorated the way you wanted, not your mother. You made final decisions for the company. That package was snatching the control of your life from your hands.

“Hey.”

You turned your head to glance over your shoulder. The stockier bodyguard had approached you, his hands in the pockets of his trousers. A sympathetic expression softened the sharper features of his face. He could be intimidating, with his broad shoulders yet lithe build shown off by the tailored suit.

“Jinyoung really is the best among us,” he said. “He’ll make sure you’re safe and I wouldn’t be surprised if he caught this guy in the meantime.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” you sighed as you turned around fully, “but it's not the stalker that I’m worried about. I like my privacy, my life the way it is now. With a guard following me around all day, word about this will get out. And then the paparazzi will be back on me like clumps of sticky rice.” They wouldn’t be able to resist a story like this.

“I know it sucks, but it won’t be forever.”

You nodded, but more in acknowledgment that he had spoken rather than in agreement. It was easy enough to say that something would end; everything does. But what you wanted was to be able to physically be close to the end. You wanted to see it, reach out and graze it with the tips of your fingers. But there was no light in this tunnel. If you ever met this stalker, you would make sure that at least one of you ended up in the hospital.

“Jackson,” Jaebeom called out, catching both of your attentions. The leader motioned out the door with his head. “Let’s go.” He turned back to your father. “We’ll make another round at the office, get to know your security there, and create a rotation that will cover the area sufficiently.”

“I thank you again for all your work. I look forward to meeting this Park Jinyoung.”

“He should arrive by tomorrow evening. If something holds him up, we’ll contact you.”

Your father shook his hand before the three bodyguards left. When it was just the two of you again, you leaned up against the wall and let out a rather unseemly raspberry between your lips.

“Please, don’t be like that,” your father begged. “I’m only trying to do what I think is best to protect you.”

“I know, I know,” you said, exasperated. “I just… I feel like I’m sixteen again.”

Your father chuckled. “If I remember correctly, you enjoyed your bodyguards back then.”

“Because I was stupid and it made me feel important.” Very important, indeed. Not just anyone had big burly men surrounding them as they walked through airport to get to the blacked-out van waiting for you in the car park. They were the ones who kept the photographers and overzealous fans at bay. When you were young, you looked at those pictures where you were wearing sunglasses to block out the flashing and thought you were one of the coolest people in the world. Now the very thought of that situation made you feel pity – whether it was old pictures of yourself or newer one of the latest generation of young stars. There was nothing to envy. Not when all you wanted was to be able to walk through the airport and make it to your flight without worrying around being crowded or pulled at or hear the constant screaming. And you weren’t even a heartthrob popstar. You’d dated a few, though.

“Well, things are different now,” you father said in an attempt to be comforting. “and I spoke to others who had used Lim Jaebeom’s services and they said it was like his men were hardly even there.”

It took a lot of self-control to bite down and keep your tongue from spouting off. Because it didn’t matter how invisible the guards felt to the others – they were probably used to treating employees like they didn’t exist. You were not going to be able to do that. You were going to be too hyperaware of the extra presence in your life. Like a shadow creeping behind you down a dark alley. Always there in the corner of your eye, lurking and waiting.

“I should probably be getting home,” you said.

Your father nodded in agreement. “I’ll have Seonjo see you there.”

“Father, I-” One quick, stern look cut off any argument. “Yes, sir.” So much for being a grown woman.

Seonjo was one of your father’s own security. He was loyal to the family, your father most of all. He once sent a disgruntled employee to the hospital for trying to harm your father. He never directly admitted to having a license to kill, but you wouldn’t be surprised. As a child, he’d intimidated you. One time, he caught you trying to sneak out through the back kitchen door past midnight so you could go hang out with your friends. You thought that being thrown over someone’s shoulder was a stunt you would only have to perform in front of a camera. Needless to say, you didn’t try that again.

Out front, Seonjo was already leaning up against your car, waiting for you to unlock the doors. You didn’t fight him on who got to drive. You simply pulled your keys out and tossed them to the bodyguard before jumping into the passenger’s seat.

“How do you plan on get home?” you asked once you were down the road a ways.

“Rideshares are very common, you know,” Seonjo snorted. He’d become more playful as you’d gotten older. Your only guess as to why was perhaps he wasn’t very comfortable around children. Those little creatures were even more unpredictable than adults and from you had observed, Seonjo liked things… quiet. And orderly. Kids tended to be neither.

“But wouldn’t that break protocol?”

“They won’t enter the property,” Seonjo countered. “I’ll have them drop me off a little down the road and walk the rest of the way.”

“Always the man with a plan,” you laughed.

“That’s the job,” he replied with a smile.

Safe and sound in your own apartment, Seonjo bid you a goodnight and headed down the elevator to meet his rideshare driver down on the sidewalk. You were a bit surprised that he wasn’t staying the night to watch over you, but you were thankful. One last night of freedom in your own home before the lion came a’ prowling. It didn’t feel fair at all. But it just goes to show that the past never stays asleep for long.

“So, wait, let me get this straight: you… are… complaining at the fact that a man has to protect you and keep you safe from your crazy, maniacal stalker?”

You rolled your eyes at your best friend, knowing that you should have been prepared for this.

Dan had been by your side since the two of you costarred in a short-lived comedy series about high school students. Not that either of you were that sad about its less-than-a-season lifespan. Right after that, you snagged the lead in the show was the defining role of your acting life and Dan was able to move on to create his own fashion line. You couldn’t say what your other costars were up to now, but Dan was always – and would always be – a constant in your life.

“Its not that serious,” you said again as you leaned forward on your desk. Dan had come to your office to have dinner with you since he was sure that it wasn’t safe for you to eat out in the open in a crowded restaurant. You know, where witnesses were present.

“See, you keep saying that, but I’m not sure if you’re aware of the actual definition of serious.” Dan folded his hands and pulled up on his knee as he crossed his legs. “The phone callss might be passable, but the package of pig’s blood with old magazine articles about you isn’t as easily overlooked.”

“I get it. I really do. But I like how my life is right now. I don’t want to think about that pompous brat of an actress I was.”

“Okay, first of all,” Dan held up a finger, “you weren’t that bad because I never would have been your friend if you were.” Now a second finger. “Second of all, you can’t control other people, honey. I don’t know why they’re suddenly fixated on you after nearly eight years, but they are. And you have to deal with it.” A cheeky look came across his face as he lifted his glass of wine to his lips. “Besides, you never know. Maybe this Park guy will be handsome and the two of you will fall in love while he protects you from the axe wielding maniac.”

You gave him your best deadpan look. “You’ve watched The Bodyguard too many times.”

“Whitney Houston is an icon. She created one of the greatest ballads of all time with that movie.”

“Actually, the song was originally written by Dolly Parton.”

Dan jumped at the third voice, nearly spilling his wine. Thankfully, the liquid didn’t leave the glass, and he was wearing black pants anyway.

Standing in your open doorway was a man in a sharp black suit with a simple cut. It was the causal kind, like your father never wore. Hair almost as dark as the suit was parted on the side and slicked back away from his forehead. The smallest of smirks rested in the corner of his mouth, giving a little bit of light to his otherwise serious expression.

Surprised that he finally showed up after waiting all day, you stood to your feet and walked over to your new bodyguard. You held out your hand for him to take. It was a strong grip, but not so much so that it was intimidating. He kept eye contact with you, but in a way that was creepy or uncomfortable. “Hi. I’m (y/n).”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, (y/n). My name is Park Jinyoung. Jaebeom already informed you that I was assigned to watch over you until this stalker is caught.”

“Yes, he did.”

Dan hopped up from his seat and came to stand beside you. With his own hand stretched out, he took the liberty of introducing himself. “Hi, I’m Daniel Larken. The fashion designer? You might have heard of me.”

Jinyoung shook his hand, obviously amused by the forwardness. “The one with the reflective suits?”

“It’s actually a shimmer sewn in with the thread,” Dan corrected.

“Ah,” Jinyoung nodded. “Good work.”

“Thank you.”

Jinyoung’s eyes flickered back and forth between you and Dan, smirking. He was enjoying this. Well, at least one of you would be. And now that Dan was fully onboard, there was no one left to stand by you. It was official. You were stuck with this Park Jinyoung. As long as he agreed to stay out of your way and not completely upend your life, then this shouldn’t be too bad of an arrangement.

With a brewing smile of his own, Dan turned to you. “I want one.”

You crossed your arms sternly. “No.”

#got7 #got7 bodyguard au #got7 bodyguard!au #jinyoung x reader #park jinyoung #got7 series #got7 fanfic #got7 fanfiction #lim jaebeom #jackson wang #kim yugyeom #bambam #choi youngjae #mark tuan #Bottom of the Glass

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mollymauk-teafleak · 3 years

Text

The Problem with Magic Markers

Soooo Critical Role campaign 2 just ended, I've got major brain rot over it and my wonderful gf gave me a wonderful idea for a fic so! This happened! A gift to @spiky-lesbian who came up with this adorable concept and is just generally an all round wonderful person who deserves the world. Also huge thanks to my ever patient, ever helpful beta reader @minky-for-short

If you liked it too, please reblog and leave a comment over on Ao3!

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Mollymauk is so proud of Caleb in so many ways and, now they have their lovely lives with their wonderful children, he finds more reasons to be every day.

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Mollymauk Tealeaf had learned many things since he’d become a parent, now five years ago. A short amount of time, he’d used to think, but plenty of time to obtain a lot of knowledge you never thought you were ever going to need in your life.

Like how sandwiches cut into triangles were disgusting but sandwiches cut into squares could be eaten by the hundreds. Like how to make a bath appealing to a toddler with the liberal addition of bubble bath and a willingness to get absolutely soaked playing Sharks with them. Like how a scraped knee and bumped forehead could be cured with his cuddles and kisses alone, like how a promise from him that everything was going to be okay was enough to make it so.

And how silence was very, very worrying.

So when Mollymauk walked past his son and daughter’s room and heard only silence, when he knew for a fact they were in there, he stopped dead. He put any thoughts of getting to go and spend some time with his sewing kit out of his mind. Because he’d been a parent long enough to know that something was up, two five year olds weren’t that silent unless some game was afoot, something they didn’t want their parents to know about. Which meant he should probably at least poke his nose in.

So he knocked lightly on their door, the one covered in whichever drawings they were most proud of that week and a hand painted sign Jester had made for them the day they were born, prettily proclaiming ‘Trinket and Una’s Room!’ amongst a flock of miniature unicorns.

“Sweetlings?” he called gently, “Mind if I come in?”

There was a sudden scrabbling from behind the door and he heard a muffled grunt from Una before Trinket answered hurriedly, “Um...yes! Okay daddy!”

Raising a curious eyebrow, Molly pushed the door back, disturbing the usual scattering of toys left on the floor like the aftermath of a felt based battle. Although it did seem like there was more mess than usual…

Trinket stood in the middle of the room between their two little beds, his backpack at his feet and an expression of perfect innocence on his face that was just a little too polished to be anything but an act. Molly had to admit he’d probably learned that from him.

“Well hello there, little man,” he leaned in the doorway, smiling crookedly, “What game are we playing today?”

Trinket shuffled his feet, “Um...packing?”

“That sounds like a fun game,” Molly’s gentle concern upgraded to full blown wariness, “And where’s your sister?”

Trinket turned a deeper shade of purple, looking down at his fidgety feet that were poking more holes in his innocence by the second, “Um...she...um…”

Which was the point Una helpfully chose to poke her little head out of the backpack, dark eyes blinking curiously and ears flapping, trilling, “Here daddy!”

Trinket flushed guiltily, frowning at her, “Una! I said you had to stay shh!”

Molly took a breath, wandering over to sit down on Trinket’s bed. As his eyes swept around the room, he noted a great deal more chaos in the room. Almost like someone had been going through the toy box and the drawers and bookshelves, hurriedly pulling things out, making quick decisions about what to abandon and what to stuff into a little blue, dinosaur patterned backpack. Molly supposed he should at least be grateful that Trinket saw his sister as worth taking.

“Why don’t you talk to me, babies?” he offered gently.

Trinket swallowed, eyes darting around nervously before the last of the fight went out of his narrow little shoulders and he mumbled, “Daddy...can I tell you a secret?”

Molly had to smile. This was almost a running joke between the three of them, his kids running up excitedly to tell him they had a secret for him before whispering into his ear about some apparently very cool bug they’d seen or that Uncle Caddy had snuck them an extra cookie or that he was the best daddy ever. He loved being brought into their world where everything was brighter and more exciting and there was fun to be found in the smallest things. And where everything was felt so much more keenly.

“Of course you can, sweetling,” he murmured gently, patting the bed beside him, “You can always tell me secrets. Whatever it is, I promise we can make it better together.”

As Una rolled out of the backpack, apparently unconcerned and rather enjoying herself, Trinket clambered up beside him and stood so he could whisper into his ear. Molly tucked his purple curls behind one ear, smiling encouragingly.

Voice already trembling, Trinket leaned in and murmured, “I messed up Papa’s coat.”

Molly absorbed that in silence, feeling his son’s anxious red eyes on him. He leaned back, keeping his face carefully neutral before taking a long, deep breath through his nose, marshalling his thoughts.

“Trinket, I’m not going to lie to you here. We might be in trouble.”

His opinion didn’t change when he actually saw the coat. The coat his husband had been wearing as long as he’d known him and refused to be regularly seen without, no matter how many attempts Molly had made to buy him a newer, less ragged, less musty smelling version. It was more a comfort blanket than just clothing, stained and scorched from numerous spells and spills, old leather worn shiny from overuse. He hadn’t said so in so many words but it didn’t take a genius to guess that Caleb had worn it since before he came to the city. Which meant it had probably come from his parents. And though it was old and faded and stained today, it must have been new when he got it, a costly garment for people like the Ermendruds. The sort of gift that would only be given if your only son was leaving home to join the Academy and wanted to show him how proud you were.

A lot of Caleb’s life was like that. Even as his husband, Molly found himself having to piece things together from passing comments and turns of phrase, things that dulled his love’s eyes and tightened his jaw. Molly had about a quilt and a half’s worth of assumptions and semi-finished anecdotes by this point, telling of a sad and fractured timeline.

But he knew enough to see what the coat meant to Caleb and the place it held in his husband’s black and white, yes or no, yours and mine way of thinking.

The coat that now had a minor gallery’s worth of doodles and drawings scribbled in magic marker across the sleeves and all the way down the back. And if he wasn’t comfortable with Molly washing the thing, he wasn’t going to be okay with this.

Trinket had been fretfully watching his daddy since he’d first pulled the coat out from where he’d guiltily stashed it under his bed. As Molly’s mutely horrified silence dragged on, he only became more and more anguished until he was barely in tears, wringing his tail between his pudgy fists.

“I only wanted to make it pretty,” he whimpered, “Papa will hate me. I won’t be his special boy any more.”

Molly looked up at him, reaching out and putting his hand on Trinket’s shoulder, “Oh sweetling, your papa loves you a lot, you know this isn’t going to change that.”

But he couldn’t stop thinking about the times he’d picked up a pen from Caleb’s desk without thinking much of it, doodling with it until he’d looked up to see his husband gaping at him in scandalised horror. Or the times he’d stolen sips from Caleb’s drink when they were at the cafe, the same way he’d do to any of his friends, but Caleb would frown if he caught him, unable to understand why Molly was taking his coffee?

It was just part of the way his brain functioned, the rules it spat out after absorbing years of poverty and trauma, along with some different wiring that had simply occurred naturally. Mollymauk had learned a long time ago how to fondly work with these Caleb-isms, making concessions where it was best to and encouraging his wizard to gentle the restrictions his brain built when he needed to. It was like tending some kind of creeping vine in a garden, the way he saw it. Sometimes things needed moving aside so it could flourish and sometimes it needed pruning so it didn’t strangle the flowers around it. Caleb had been as brave as Mollymauk could have wished in managing his idiosyncrasies and sometimes he just had to sit back and admire how different the Caleb he lived with today was from the anxious, mumbling wizard he’d first met.

But how much patience he’d be able to muster when it was one of his favourite things in the world, Molly couldn’t say. But he wasn’t looking forward to telling him about it.

“Should I go?” Trinket’s lower lip wobbled, glancing back at his half packed bag, which Una was back inside, the front half this time as she munched away on some snack he must have stashed in there.

“Absolutely not, your papa would never want that,” Molly squeezed his shoulder gently, “We’re going to put the coat in to soak so we can get all this ink out and then we’re going to find him and I’ll tell him what’s happened. But you need to be the one who says sorry, okay?”

Trinket nodded frantically, still clinging onto his tail for comfort, “I am sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

“I know, buddy,” Molly drew him close and hugged him tight, hating to see him so upset, “But we’ll be laughing about this before long, you’ll see.”

Maybe if he said it confidently enough, he’d start to believe it too.

Caleb wasn’t hard to find for a number of reasons. For one, their apartment was very small and there were only a handful of rooms to look in. But more importantly, it was late afternoon on a day where Caleb didn’t have any reason to go down to the Academy and fulfill his duties as an adjunct professor and when his bookshop was closed, as it was once a week. Which meant there was only one place he would be, in his half of their spare room, either playing one of his video games or reading.

Molly wasn’t quite sure what they’d do when one of their kids decided they wanted their own room and were tired of sharing, meaning Caleb would have to store his books and he’d have to store his sewing somewhere else. Or if they had another kid. He’d been toying with that idea in the back of his mind lately.

Maybe best not to float that idea with Caleb right after this.

Mollymauk could feel Trinket in his arms, his offer to pick him up and carry him having been immediately, breathlessly accepted. He could sense him getting more tense, more anxious, growing heavier against him as Molly knocked lightly on the door.

“Ja, come in,” Caleb’s response was immediate, not even needing to ask who it was or having to pause over whether he wanted to see them.

When Molly went in, Caleb was in the old, ratty wingback chair they’d liberated from some sidewalk when they’d first moved in, Molly announcing teasingly that a future professor needed some grand leather throne from which to smoke a pipe and pontificate. Caleb had blushed and rolled his eyes, not even believing back then that one day he would get the job he’d always dreamed of having, thinking trauma and past hurts had stolen it from him.

So now Molly always got a small flush of pride when he saw his Caleb sitting in that chair.

His hair was getting a little longer these days, it’s auburn tangles pulled into a small knot at the crown of his head so it wouldn’t fall in his eyes. His beard was growing a little thicker too, more than the usual rusty shadow that dusted his jawline. Molly absolutely was not going to be complaining about any of that, he liked his husband looking a little more rough around the edges like when they’d first met.

As soon as he saw them, Molly with Trinket balanced on one hip, Caleb’s face lit up with a smile. His smiles had been rare once upon a time but now just the sight of his family was enough.

“Hello,” he set the book he’d been reading to one side, already expecting Trinket to want to sit on his lap like always, “How are my loves?”

Near Molly’s ear, Trinket whimpered mournfully and pressed his face against his daddy’s neck. It was more than an ache to listen to, Trinket idolised his papa, following him around whenever he could, listening devotedly as he explained his work even when it wandered far off the track that his little mind could understand. Molly had no doubt the attempt to brighten up his coat had been a genuine attempt to make him smile and he couldn’t imagine how much it was hurting his little boy, to think he’d upset the man he looked up to more than anyone.

Caleb’s smile dulled a little, seeing Trinket hesitate, immediately realising they weren’t here for playtime, “What’s wrong?”

Molly exhaled slowly, carefully keeping his voice calm and level, “It’s okay babe, Trinket just...did something he wants to apologise for.”

“Oh?” Caleb frowned a little, eyes still fixed on Trinket, arms still open.

Molly opened his mouth, ready to do the hard part but before he could, Trinket bolted upright and tearfully burst out, “I wanted to make your coat pretty because you always like my pictures and I thought you could take them everywhere not just in your pockets but I made a mess and I’m so sorry papa! I’m really sorry!”

For a moment both of his parents were a little stunned, not quite sure what to say as his rambles tapered off into spluttery sobs. Molly warily glanced at Caleb, looking for any change in his blank, closed off expression, any flicker of discomfort, even anger.

After a few beats, ones that felt longer than usual, Caleb only nodded, getting to his feet. Gently, he reached over and put a gentle hand on his son’s face, catching some of the tears dribbling down his cheek on his thumb.

“Little Kätzchen, it’s alright,” he murmured softly, “Please don’t cry.”

Trinket sniffled, blinking blearily, “You’re not angry? Don’t want me to go away?”

Caleb’s eyebrows shot up in alarm, “No! Oh, Trinkie, absolutely not. I’d never want that.”

“But…” Trinket’s eyes were wide, hopeful, wanting to take this relief being offered but hesitant to, “It’s your favourite thing in the whole wide world…”

Caleb chuckled quietly, his smile back with all it’s warmth as he leaned in and kissed his forehead.

“Kätzchen, you and your sister are my favourite thing in the whole wide world.”

Molly nearly yelped in panic as he felt the weight of Trinket suddenly leave his arms before realising his son had thrown himself at Caleb, locking his arms around him tightly. He didn’t doubt for a moment that his husband would catch him, only smiling fondly as he gathered Trinket close and buried his face in his hair.

“It’s all okay,” Caleb whispered against the rust red curls he’d given their son, “It’s okay, little one.”

Molly let them have their moment, letting Trinket cry the last of his tears out happily against his papa’s chest, hanging back and feeling his heart thudding warmly against his ribs. Eventually he was their beaming, bright little boy again, if a little damp, wriggling down from Caleb’s arms determinedly after one last little kiss against his papa’s cheek.

“I’m gonna make you a sorry card. The best sorry card ever,” he promised Caleb, already toddling towards the door, “It’s gonna have glitter.”

“Wow, that kid is definitely my son,” Molly observed wryly once his little lavender tail had disappeared around the corner.

“Then you can clean up the mess he’s definitely about to make,” Caleb chuckled, moving into his husband’s arms.

“Hey,” Molly kissed the crown of his head gently, “Well done. I know that must have been hard for you and...I’m really proud of you.”

He couldn’t see it but he could hear the coy smile in his voice, “Well...I meant what I said. Some coat is never going to be more important to me than my kids.”

Molly smiled knowingly, “I know baby….but you know, if you want to scream into that cushion for a little while, that’s okay too?”

There was a short pause before he felt Caleb’s shoulders drop in relief.

“Thank you, Katze…”

“Is it done yet?”

Molly had to fight a smile. He’d explained to Caleb that soaking his coat would take exactly thirty minutes, knowing his husband fixated on time easily, but still he asked every five minutes on the dot. He’d expected nothing less.

“Not just yet, babe,” he repeated, as he had all of those other times, looking up from the laundry they’d been folding so Caleb would have an excuse to hover anxiously in the laundry room, over the tub of hot soapy water and a little rubbing alcohol his coat was submerged in, “Soon though.”

Caleb gave a small grunt, poking a finger into the water curiously like it was some potion he was working over. After a moment, before Molly could turn back to folding the clothes, he frowned.

“This sleeve isn’t in the water…”

Molly’s smile turned crooked, coming over and putting a hand on Caleb’s before he could move the one sleeve into the tub, “I thought maybe you’d want to look at it...decide if you want to keep that one.”

Caleb blinked, not understanding until he turned it a little and saw the drawing his Trinket had chosen to adorn the sleeve with. It was done in bright red, standing clearly against the dark fabric, unmistakable a child’s drawing. There were four figures there, two taller and two smaller. The first had a set of horns drawn a little too large for it’s head, as well as a tail. The second had a long scarf and a scrawled head of shoulder length hair. The next was much smaller, with another set of horns and a tail but the same scribbled hair. And the last was tiny, with voluminous ears and spikes on the end of it’s fingers. All of them had immense smiles and held hands, a lopsided love heart hovering above them.

As the other scribbles and swirls turned into formless ink in the water, Caleb held this one like it was the most precious thing he’d ever seen in his life.

“Yeah,” he murmured, smiling softly, “I think this one can stay.”

#critical role #modern au #caleb widogast #mollymauk tealeaf #widomauk #una #trinket #please reblog and comment!

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charming-mage · 4 years

Text

The Ghost Zone’s Running Joke Part 2 (Lila Salt Fic)

I find it fitting to finish this in October. Fits the Halloween season.

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Vlad Masters is here to take on the role of Mayor of Amity Park. Lila’s sees her golden ticket in the billionaire. His money makes the Agrestes look like paupers. His wealth and the connections that can be made through him might just be enough for the A-Listers.

It’s not hard to notice the strained relationship between Danny and Vlad. Danny wants nothing to do with the man. No matter what Vlad does, the high schooler aggressively rejects it. Lila figures she can do for him what she did for Mr. Agreste: spying and giving reports. In return, pulling some strings for a good internship at city hall or one of his businesses. The status of an internship at a good place and future in making lots of money might just be enough.

Lila makes her move. She’s able to catch Vlad after another failed attempt. Far from the students’ prying eyes, an offer is made. She’ll help him keep an eye on Danny, and give Vlad information on the teenager. The offer is prettied up to sound nicer then saying it’ll involve spying and violating Danny’s privacy. There’s regret in not cozying up to Danny. Would’ve made things easier.

Vlad turns her down. Says some things about not wanting to violate his trust like that. Wants to win him over his own way. In reality, he doesn’t need her. There’s spy cameras in the Fenton home and ghosts on his payroll. Besides, why would he want the help of a human female minor? Not a good look.

Lila is disappointed, but is not ready to give up yet. Plots form in her head to arrange situations to her advantage. ‘Accidently’ bumping into him and just so happen to have some interesting information. Too bad for her, the plan doesn’t workout to well because of a new lie she’s telling Casper High students.

Plasmius spotted in Amity Park gives Lila inspiration for a new lie. She claims the ghost is kind to her. Implies he sees her as attractive. The teenager doesn’t have the life experience to understand why this is a problem. Thinks admiration like this from an adult means nothing.

Let’s just say it’s an understatement this doesn’t go down well with the adults. When the students tell their parents, there’s an uproar. A recent Plasmius and Phantom fight at the school adds fuel to the fire. The fight is now seen as the ghost hero protecting minors from a pedophile.

People demand city hall, the Fentons, and the Guys in White to prioritize hunting down the Wisconsin Ghost. Phantom is not a major threat compared to the older ghost. Heck, Phantom has been seen to reject advances from his fans.

Vlad is forced to go along with this. If he hesitated it’d look very bad. Only saving grace here is Lila is a known liar among the ghosts. Things would have gone very bad for him otherwise. After this catastrophe, Vlad is cold to Lila. Refuses to humor her much to her dismay. What a lovely introduction to the Ghost Zone’s running joke.

Meanwhile with Team Phantom, they’re having a group meeting on what to do about Lila. Danny catching Lila stalking him (as Fenton) is the last straw. Danny is all for calling her out. It irritates him to watch the liar being fawned over for a fake connection. The friendship lie is encouraging his fans to be bolder.

Sam, the voice of reason, vetoes this plan. Trying to disprove Lila’s lies as Fenton is a horrible idea. No one will believe the loser at the bottom of the social hierarchy. It also adds a target on his back. Who knows what Lila will do to keep a lid on this. That Lila is willing to stalk, snoop, and snitch to Vlad is not good. It shows the teenager won’t stop at small lies to get what she wants.

On the other hand, confronting her as Phantom will make people think there’s a grain of truth in Lila’s story. It’ll be easy to twist it as a falling out. Besides, they don’t want to bring more attention on the ghost attacks at the school then there already is. If people believe Phantom, then it’ll be obvious the hero is at the school often enough to hear it. Which means more scrutiny and surveillance.

Tucker has a plan. Simply pretend to have no idea who Lila is or haven’t heard the rumors. One day an Amity Park resident is going to point blank ask him. It’ll be easy to stick around long enough after a ghost fight at Casper High. A student will be sure to bring up the subject.

Luckily for Danny, an opportunity appears within a week. After capturing a ghost, he allows Paulina to catch up to him. Paulina does the usual gushing over him. When she brings up Lila, he sticks to the plan. “....Oh you’re talking about that long haired Brunette. Layla? Lie-la?” Let’s just say the popular girl is not happy to have been made a fool of in front of the entire school. It’s one thing to tell unimportant white lies. It’s another thing to make Paulina look stupid.

Paulina is not the only one finding out about Lila’s lies. Some Amity Park residents have noticed the ghosts reaction to Lila. Their interactions stand out as most ghosts don’t usually target an individual. If they do, it’s usually a one time thing. That this girl is well known to the ghosts and this drama hasn’t calmed down yet is suspicious.

Lance Thunder manages to get an on the scene interview with a ghost. He asks the burning question: “What’s so funny about this girl?” Other ghosts invite themselves to the interview when word spreads. It’s revealed Lila lied about knowing the ghost hero. It’s funny to them how hard the girl tries to be Phantom’s friend. Unknowingly, her actions cause him to keep his distance from her. Respecting Phantom, the ghosts don’t reveal his Halfa status. That doesn’t stop them from sharing stories. They just neglect to mention if it happened as Phantom or Fenton.

“I held her hostage and Phantom didn’t believe me when I said I had his friend. Told me all his friends are accounted for. He had no idea who this girl was.”

“She stalks him.”

“The child told me to my face Phantom will permanently end me if I harmed her. If she really knew him, she’d know Mr. Hero Complex would never cross that line.”

As the witnesses go on, it’s pretty clear Lila is a liar. This combined with Paulina’s revenge campaign, Lila’s rise as a future A-lister is finished. She never did manage to find a solution to rich requirement in time.

Lila is the social pariah at the school. Lower on the totem pole than Team Phantom and the nerds. There’s no escape to a new school this time. Mrs. Rossi is dealing with the aftermath of the ‘Ladybug is incompetent’ lies. (She finally got around to telling her boss about it.) Mr. Rossi is trying to transfer to another city, but Amity Park has a bad reputation. Outsiders view the ‘ghost believing fanatics’ lowly.

Mrs. Rossi doesn’t have any family to turn to. Her only family members left died years ago. Mr. Rossi is an orphan. It’s a hard choice, but Lila is staying in Amity Park. The uncertain future of Mrs. Rossi’s job is the deciding factor. There’s money to spare for anti-etco defenses. Unlike ghosts, there’s no products to deal with Akumas.

So Lila is stuck in Amity Park until her dad finds a new job in a different city. It’s not so fun being known as the town liar. Or the Ghost Zone’s laughing stock. No one believes her when the Box Ghost moves the packed boxes in the art room. Or Phantom calling her the girl who cried wolf.

The drama filled the ghosts’ boredom. Watching Phantom doing his best to tolerate her is a must see for visiting ghosts. They still for years tease him about his ‘dishonest friend.’

#lila salt #lila rossi #salt #crossover #lila gets exposed #lila exposed

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guqin-and-flute · 4 years

Note

Jin Guangyao supervises a-Fu and a-Ling's first sleepover while Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue are night-hunting

[Well, this was SUPPOSED to be just fluffy, but that’s a little hard inside of JGY’s head]

A-Fu bounded his way into the room and flung himself into Jin Guangyao’s arms with such force that it nearly knocked him over. “Oof--my child, please--” he chuckled as he caught him and A-Fu rubbed his face all over the embroidered Sparks Amidst Snow peony on the front of his robes, likely wiping his snot off on it. His clothes were still cold and damp from their flight.

“We--” A-Fu reared his head back, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling. “Are gonna stay up all night!”

A-Yuan appeared to have stayed behind by Lan Xichen’s side, because the pair made their entrance at a more measured pace as Lan Xichen reminded, patiently, “While the rules of Carp Tower may be different than Cloud Recesses, staying up all night is not good for you.”

Rather shyly, A-Yuan bowed in greeting to Jin Guangyao and he nodded back, smiling down at the boy. It had always been vaguely amusing to him that A-Yuan had more patience and decorum than A-Fu, who was born a Lan. One had to wonder if it was the influence of the slightly more rowdy Nie Clan exposure or simply innate. “Seeing how I am the one watching you and I cannot stay up all night, I’m going to have to disagree with you, Fufu,” Jin Guangyao slotted his gentle negation right alongside Lan Xichen’s and braced for the inevitable pout.

Instead, he received a sunny smile. “Oh, okay, then you’ll just go to bed at the Lan time and we’ll stay up to help the sun rise!”

A-Yuan was looking between the adults with a rather furtive smile, as if trying to silently communicate that he did not, in fact, condone this plan and would not like to be a part of the repercussions. Jin Guangyao grinned and hefted A-Fu over to his side to brace him on his hip, his back beginning to complain. “Ah, what a creative set of ears you have, Fufu--we say ‘you’re not staying up all night’, and yet they hear ‘you’re allowed to stay up until sunrise’! Truly remarkable.”

Quite dramatically, A-Fu sighed and smushed his hands up onto Jin Guangyao’s face, smearing his cheeks around. “Dieeee, don’t be a party pooper, it’s our first Jin sleepover with all of us!”

Gently, Jin Guangyao shook his face free of his cold fingered grasp and turned toward Lan Xichen to receive the kiss to his forehead. Despite A-Fu beginning to wiggle, he leaned into it, let himself inhale the scent of ozone-sky, clean wind, and sandalwood that clung to his robes and hair. The habitual tension torqued at his core loosened, like a sigh. “Easy trip? You’re not too tired after carrying them both, are you?”

Lan Xichen chuckled, slid to kiss his temple. “I’m fine, A-Yao. I’m sorry again for the short notice--Wangji is off on his own night hunt and this cannot wait.”

Shaking his head, Jin Guangyao smiled. “It’s no trouble. A-Ling is very excited.”

“And you?”

“Also very excited--ah!” A-Fu made a lunge off of his hip, not being content to simply wiggle his displeasure at being kept from pelting about and Jin Guangyao had to stoop to catch him before he hit his head on the ground. “A-Fu!” The boy froze, guiltily, and let himself be lowered down to his feet. Jin Guangyao crouched down and straightened his robes and headband with little tugs to lessen the sting of his scolding, brushing his hair back over his shoulder. “Patience is valuable. You’ll hurt yourself that way.”

As soon as no more admonishments came, A-Fu brightened immediately. “You wouldn’t drop me. A-Yuan!! Let’s go find A-Ling!”

Darting away, he seized A-Yuan’s wrist and dragged him out and down the hall, already excitedly chattering about the plans of the night as Lan Xichen chuckled and shook his head, winding an arm about Jin Guangyao’s waist when he rose. “Good luck. He couldn’t keep still the entire trip and told me the same thing when I reminded him that dropping from my arms in the sky was a bad idea.”

“Aiya,” he shook his head and, since they were alone, turned inside his embrace and kissed the corner of his mouth. “I’m sure it will be fine,” he murmured against him. “But you will be careful, yes?”

“Mm,” Lan Xichen tilted his head, pressed a firmer, more complete kiss against his lips, slipping his arms fully around him before pulling back to smile down at him. “I always am. Da-ge will be with me.”

With practiced ease, he swept aside the tangle of anxiety, old hurt, regret, and darker things the mention of Nie Mingjue bubbled inside his gut and smiled back. “Of course.”

The boys were already fighting by the time Jin Guangyao found them in Jin Ling’s toy room down the hall--something about the colors of toy swords--but quieted down fairly quickly when he mildly suggested that perhaps they wouldn’t need more sugar after dinner because they were already so lively. Eating went well, as both A-Ling and A-Fu were too busy inhaling food like they were starving and A-Yuan was making like a good Lan child and not talking during meals. He contented himself watching them dart around afterward, announcing in grandiose little voices the various heroes they were and what monsters they were battling. Without direct adult interference, A-Yuan grew a little more vibrant and playful, and though he never reached the same volume of the other 2, he seemed to be enjoying himself. Soon, Jin Guangyao faded into the background for them like so much furniture. He smiled as he watched them play. It was funny how sometimes it worked on children as well as adults.

That is, until A-Ling twisted around like he suddenly realized something. “Hey, you’re a hero of the Sunshot Campaign, right, shushu?”

Jin Guangyao blinked and smiled. “Oh, I wouldn’t go so far as to say all that.” Modesty was a good trait to teach your children. In any case, his father would certainly agree with his hedging and Madam Jin would certainly take exception if her grandson began calling such a bastard a hero in her presence. “Most people of my generation were a part of the Sunshot Campaign. Why do you ask, A-Ling?”

“Well, you just seem so normal.”

Jin Guangyao did not let the slightly darker, wry humor he felt coil in his chest bleed into his perfectly reasonable smile. “I’m pleased that you think so.”

“But heroes aren’t normal, though, they’re heroes,” A-Fu seemed to understand whatever A-Ling was failing to adequately explain. “They aren’t moms and dads and stuff.”

“What should they be instead, then, A-Fu? Simply stories?”

His son squinted his eyes at him, like he was solving a particularly difficult equation and looked over at A-Yuan and back. “But...you didn’t have...like...sleepovers and things, right?”

Jin Guangyao was silent for a moment, keeping his expression perfectly balanced. There had never been another child to whisper the night away with. No adult in the corner to watch him play. Nights were not a time for fun. “No, A-Fu, I didn’t. But plenty of others have.”

A-Fu cocked his head. “Why not?”

Jin Guangyao smiled. “Why don’t we see if the cook has any sweet buns leftover? I know she baked them fresh this morning.”

After the hunt and acquisition of their prize and after the children had licked their hands clean, A-Fu looked up at him with a few crumbles of sugar stuck to the tip of his nose and said, “You can be part of the sleepover if you want, though, die, ‘cause this is our first one all together too!”

Heart pinching, flooding with warmth, he reached out and brushed the little crystals off with his thumb, tilting his head. “So thoughtful, xiao-Fu. I wouldn’t want to spoil your fun.”

“You’re fun, die! Right, A-Yuan?”

With a shy smile, A-Yuan nodded. “I liked when you taught us about the plants in the woods, that one time.”

The time in question had been more than 2 years ago when they were quite a bit younger, not too many months after the boy had recovered fully from his illness to be well enough to leave the Hanshi where he was staying with Lan Xichen and A-Yuan for extended periods of time. Even as A-Fu screwed up his face in confusion, the strange buzz of realization that he lived in the minds of these children in ways he did not control rushed through Jin Guangyao. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know this, cognitively or as if this wasn’t true of everyone, but...when they were small and unsteady on their feet, still learning the ways of the world and the words for things, one forgot to consider them people on the way to becoming themselves. Recording and collecting moments that were inconsequential to their grown ups. When he considered his own childhood, there wasn’t a boy who lived there, but himself, as he ever was, reflected back through time, the story written and unyielding. He had never felt particularly like a child.

And yet, here was a boy who remembered him fondly from an insignificant walk from some recordless day for pointing out a few edible plants along a path.

He found himself wondering if his mother had ever been taken out of her own head for a moment, watching him watch her, not knowing the picture she painted across his memory. For good or for ill.

Always good.

He blinked back to himself and made sure to smile at A-Yuan. “I’m glad.”

“I don’t remember that,” A-Fu complained just as A-Ling said, “I didn’t get that! Shushu, tell me about plants!”

That startled a genuine laugh out of Jin Guangyao and he knelt down. “I’m no expert, but in the morning, what if I took you all out to the gardens and told you about some of the plants that we have growing here in Carp Tower? Would you boys like that?”

The answering, competitively loud yells of YES from both A-Fu and A-Ling had him wincing but A-Yuan’s eager nod made him smile.

There was whining and stalling at bedtime, misuse of soap, and a hastily declared armistice of a mutinous pillow fight because there are lanterns in here, A-Ling, you know better, but, finally, they were tucked in, 3 dark little heads on the pillow with the blanket pulled up to their chins. “Are we going to greet the sun?” Jin Guangyao asked with knowing patience, kneeling beside their bed, leaning with his elbow in his own nightclothes.

“Nooo?” A-Fu widened his eyes, as if his own father didn’t know when he was trying to be innocent.

Smoothing a palm over his forehead, bare of its headband, Jin Guangyao raised his eyebrows. “What happens if I find you trying to stay up to greet the sun, A-Fu?”

“Youuuu...join us!”

Jin Guangyao blinked slowly, smile still fixed on his face. A-Fu sighed grumpily. “I probably have to clean dishes for a month or something.”

“Or something,” he agreed. “I’ll leave it up to your blue father.”

A-Ling snickered as A-Fu stiffened. “Nooo, don’t tell him!”

“Then I will advise you, Fufu, to not do it at all,” he replied indulgently, stroking his thumb between his eyebrows.

Tucked in the middle so the other two didn’t fight, A-Yuan piped up, saying, “I won’t let them, bo-fu.”

When A-Yuan gave him a smile, he felt his own soften without his say so--but here, with uncalculating eyes and sleepy shadows, he supposed that was alright. He reached over and patted A-Yuan’s round cheek, resisting the illogical parentally-encoded impulse to pinch them. “Thank you, A-Yuan.” Then, he reached farther to do the same for A-Ling. “Goodnight, boys. Sleep well.”

As Jin Guangyao rose and moved to the door, A-Fu chirped, “Love you.” He paused as the other 2 echoed the same words, like A-Fu had reminded them of an important ritual.

Drawing in a deep breath around his suddenly tight throat, he turned back and smiled. “Love you, too.”

#xiyao #3zun raise jingyi au #my fic #my stuff #jgy #lxc #ljy #jl #lsz #Thanks for the prooompt Maaads it's way angstier than I meaaaaant #madtomedgar #3zun raise jingyi content

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stomp-that-ho-regard · 3 years

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I typically don’t do asks (I've only ever gotten a few), but a recent one got my gears turning and I wanted to reply.

(This is a secondary blog, so I can’t answer asks in the usual way.)

Your post about the retcon is so fucking good, I wish every critter saw it and actually thought about how shitty it was done, but then their belief in the cast and show would probably start cracking.

Thank you for liking the retcon post. I’ve seen various people in the tags thank me for making that post and have said that it’s helped them ‘feel less insane’. None of us are insane. We are not delusional. We didn’t experience a mass hallucination. These things happened, and they’ve been thoroughly documented. Hundreds of hours of material over the course of three years.

The people who should read that post won’t ever see it because I have all those assholes blocked lol. If they did manage to find it somehow, I know they would just mock it, as they’re wont to do with any of our criticisms. They’re so far up CR’s ass, they’ve convinced themselves that a retcon didn’t happen. Even shoving the literal definition of the word in their faces wouldn’t wake them up.

It's just so fucking weird to see how the group is acting now, and I'm pretty sure we're never gonna get a Laura&Marisha episode picture and a TM episode with those 2 for the rest of the campaign. It feels like when a non-canon wlw ship gets big on a TV show and suddenly the actresses can't be seen or interact with each other anymore🙄 it's the same fucking pattern and like you, I thought I wouldn't have to deal with this on a d&d show.

I specifically want to address the “It feels like when a non-canon wlw ship gets big on a TV show and suddenly the actresses can't be seen or interact with each other anymore” because I’ve thought about that pattern too. (Not so much with Marisha/Laura ‘cause them being on TM together is already a rare combo. If they don’t appear much or at all going forward, I don’t think it’s because of this, though it really wouldn’t surprise me. But, I have been thinking about that specific pattern in regard to their characters.)

I can make a comparison between this situation and what happened with the show A/gent Carter and the way the ship Cart/inelli was handled.

I know that might sound weird, but stay with me here lol...

I want to make it clear that I’m not comparing the relationships at all. Cart/inelli did not have nearly the same amount of build-up and depth as Beaujester, (or quite frankly, their level of possibility.) What I am comparing is the creators over-the-top reactions to these characters being shipped so hard and the extreme measures they went to in order to ‘remedy’ that.

The ship included P/eggy Carter and A/ngie Martinelli. The show was set in New York. Angie was a waitress (who wanted to be an actress/be on Broadway) at the diner that Peggy frequented. They ended up talking quite a bit and became fairly close. That ended up kind of becoming the core relationship in the entire first season, and LOTS of people started shipping it.

At the time, no one was calling us crazy or delusional. At most it was, “This is ABC! They’re not gonna pair her with a woman!” and of course the obligatory “But Peggy’s not gay!”. But no one was calling us names or being generally cruel. And anyone who tried it was ignored because everyone else drowned them out. The ship became extremely popular on Tumblr and Twitter. Both actresses were very positive and supportive. They regularly liked/retweeted romantic Cart/inelli fanart on Twitter. Even one of the female writers on the show got behind it too. It was asked about frequently at conventions and no one booed or rolled their eyes. The questions were never dismissed or made into a joke. (Honestly, this was one of the better overall fandom experiences I’ve had on here.)

And all of us were super excited for S2. Not just because of all the support, but because they had ended S1 with Peggy and Angie moving in together. Peggy had purchased, either it was a really fancy apartment or house (my memory is fuzzy on this), and she literally asked Angie to stay with her. Needless to say, that fueled the flames even more.

But despite the actresses and at least one writer being on board, between S1 and S2, something shifted.

Clearly, the showrunner and/or the execs, took a look at all of this and deemed it a ‘problem’. When S2 finally came around, suddenly everything was different. Instead of both of them living together in New York, instead of it being an organic (I’m beginning to hate that word) continuation from where they left off, Peggy decided to move to Los Angeles to do work for some agency out there or something, and Angie stayed in New York. It’s never explained why. It’s never explained why a woman who so badly wanted to be an actress would NOT want to go to LA, where Hollywood is. LA was never mentioned in S1. There were no hints that Peggy might want to fly out to the West Coast at some point. She seemed perfectly happy in NY, basically setting up house with Angie.

And they didn’t even ease into the change. They just got rid of the character. The actress was bummed about it and Cart/inelli fans tried to put pressure on the showrunner/writers to bring Angie back, which the actress completely supported, but even that fell on deaf ears. So, Angie was simply no longer an entity on that show. Conveniently removed. All the excitement we had was crushed. And of course, the second that Peggy got out to LA, she suddenly had a very obvious male love interest. What a surprise.

The showrunner/writers were not subtle about what they thought about our ship and us. They made the most extreme, nonsensical writing decision in order to permanently separate these two characters. Because, hey, that’s the only way to get the shippers to STOP, right?

This was what I was reminded of when I started seeing the turn that post-hiatus CR was taking. It ended up being a weird combination of kneejerk erasure (BJ) and heavy-handed overcompensation (BY).

But of course, CR is not a TV show, it’s D&D. And they can’t force one of their PCs to just disappear, so what do they have to resort to? Not interacting.

We all know how severely neutered Beau and Jester’s general relationship has become. It’s clear to me that both Marisha and Laura felt they had to do that. They had to suddenly have their characters stay away from each other as much as possible so they could prioritize Fjord and Yasha, and speed-run into romances with them. They started acting as if either of them giving the other one ounce of affectionate attention (like they had been doing so often and so naturally before), would be breaking some sort of hidden ‘relationship code’. Almost like if they ever hugged again, the studio would go down in flames.

The very obvious fact that they went to these lengths, to me, proves two things...

One, it proves the retcon even more, because you can tell that the way they behaved with each other DID in fact change. The frequency of interactions and the way those interactions would play out. Whenever they interact now, it seems like they’re trying to keep it as short, thin, and almost comedic (to the point of goofiness, and not in a good way) as possible. Their engagement seems half-assed and dull. The sounds of their voices, their facial expressions... completely sanitized. Even all the physicality they had is gone; the touches, the hugs, the cuddling. Every single aspect is different and they absolutely did that intentionally. This had to happen because they needed to dupe the viewers into believing that despite overall interest waning, their threadbare connections to Fjord and Yasha are more important, and were always more important then their connection to each other, that we all watched them steadily build. (And watched them pick up steam from about ep70 onwards.)

And two, that whole intentional decision to cut themselves off from each other, proves to me that their interactions pre-hiatus were indeed tinged with ‘something extra’, that was more than just friendship. They both recognized it and that’s why they pulled back so hard. That’s why soft touches and hugs and cuddling are no longer ‘allowed’. That’s why quiet, heartfelt conversations are no longer ‘allowed’. Because if there was absolutely nothing there, if they didn’t see/feel any romantic chemistry simmering underneath, and it was all just platonic BFF stuff, why would they suppress their behavior so drastically?

I think that all of this really does cement what I said in my retcon post: That there are disingenuous patterns being used here that I’ve seen far too often in media. In A/gent Carter, it was a character separation, in CR it was a character dynamic separation. Both done on purpose, to make the shippers shut up, and to push a different plot.

One is scripted, the other is unscripted, but the situations feel disgustingly similar, don’t they?

#op #ask #long post #i feel like i'm just retreading old ground here #still cathartic though

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ishkah · 3 years

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On The Far-Left, Effective Activism & Violence

Introduction to what it means to be on the far-left

So first off, as socialists & anarchists, we know we are far outside the Overton window. We know even if left-wing policy positions are more popular than right-wing, most people are still going to be biased to what they’ve grown up with and what’s familiar to them.

But, we also know we can shift the Overton window from the radical fringe: [1]

The most important thing about the Overton window, however, is that it can be shifted to the left or the right, with the once merely “acceptable” becoming “popular” or even imminent policy, and formerly “unthinkable” positions becoming the open position of a partisan base. The challenge for activists and advocates is to move the window in the direction of their preferred outcomes, so their desired outcome moves closer and closer to “common sense.”

There are two ways to do this: the long, hard way and the short, easy way. The long, hard way is to continue making your actual case persistently and persuasively until your position becomes more politically mainstream, whether it be due to the strength of your rhetoric or a long-term shift in societal values. By contrast, the short, easy way is to amplify and echo the voices of those who take a position a few notches more radical than what you really want.

For example, if what you actually want is a public health care option in the United States, coordinate with and promote those pushing for single-payer, universal health care. If the single-payer approach constitutes the “acceptable left” flank of the discourse, then the public option looks, by comparison, like the conservative option it was once considered back when it was first proposed by Orrin Hatch in 1994.

This is Negotiating 101.

So our hope is that our ideals and passion can be admired by some, like risking prison to sabotage the draft for Vietnam, so some peoples sons aren't conscripted into fighting an evil war. [2] Then any moderate left policies might look reasonable in comparison which makes them the tried and tested policies of the future.

We should also openly acknowledge that the ideal future we would like to see is empirically extremely unlikely to come about in our own lifetimes in the west, as there are still so many hills to climb first in pressuring workplaces over to a more co-operative flattened hierarchy of workplace democracy.

To quickly summarise, the direction the far-left would like to head in, is going from; a two party system, to... a multi-party coalition through preferential voting, to... some local government positions being elected by sortition, to… the majority of society being so content with worker-co-ops and syndicalist unions that we transition from representative democracy to direct democracy. So, a chamber of ministers to federated spokes councils.

Now I might be the minority in the far-left on this, but I would want people to have the option of going back a step if people aren't ready for that level of direct democracy, where the choice is disorganization and suffering or slightly less suffering under a repressive system of governance again. You could relate this to the position Rosa Luxemburg was in in lending support and hoping some good would come of the Spartacist uprising, whilst also wishing they could have been convinced to hold off until they were more prepared.

This is why it’s so important to build the governance model slowly enough to match expertise, so as not to falter with people pushing for ideals before having adequately put them to the test. So as not to cause a whiplash effect, where people desire a reactionary politics of conformity, under more rigid hierarchy of just the few.

As anarchists & socialists who desire a more directly democratic society, what tactics should we use if we want to be effective at moving society in that direction?

Electoral politics - We need to get really well educated on how even the baby step policies toward the left would be an improvement on where we are now, we need to learn the internal politicking of government and get good at having friendly arguments with comedy to appeal to friends and acquaintances basic intuitions.

The goal being that we can talk the latest news and (1) Win over conservatives to obvious empirically better policies on the left, and (2) Win over liberals when centre-left parties are in power to feel dismayed at the slow pace of change, and so acknowlege how much better it would be if there was a market socialist in the position willing to rally people to demonstrate and strike to push through bills.

Mutual aid – We should put the time into helping our neighbours and volunteering, for example on a food not bombs stall, to get people to see the positive benefits of a communalist caring society.

Theory – We should be educating ourselves and helping others know what work and rent union to join, what to keep a record of at work, how to defend yourself from rapists and fascists, how to crack a squat and how to write a press release, etc.

Campaigning – We should look for the easiest squeeze points to rack up small wins, like the picketing of a cafe to reclaim lost wages, so that word spreads and it creates a domino effect.

What tactics should we or shouldn’t we generally avoid in our political campaigns?

Civility as an end in itself

They’re not lies, they’re “falsehoods”; it’s not racism, it’s “racially charged comments”; it’s not torture, it’s “enhanced interrogation.” For years, U.S. media has prioritized, above all else, norms and civility.

Mean words or questioning motives are signs of declining civility and the subject of much lament from our media class. However, op-eds explicitly advocating war, invasion, sanctions, sabotage, bombing and occupation or cutting vital programs and lifelines for the poor are just the cost of doing business. What’s rhetorically out of bounds - and what isn’t - is far more a product of power than any objective sense of "civility" or “decency.”

Where did these so-called norms come from, who do they benefit, and why is their maintenance–-even in the face of overt white nationalism––still the highest priority for many liberals and centrists in U.S. media? [3]

This is so important to challenge, and yet incredibly nuanced. So, it is obviously a great success that the rate at which people would go around hurling racist insults looks to have dropped in favour of more political correctness.

It is also true that in pursuit of political correctness and an ethic of care, we can look for simplistic niceness, to the detriment of being able to identify systems of oppression. We need to be able to refuse the emotional labor of treating our bosses as friends when we have no desire to be friends with them. [4]

Similarly in our everyday interactions, we need to encourage our friends to accept us for who we are or not to accept us at all, so as to create deeper connections which builds stronger communities: [5]

It can be annoying or hurtful when others presume they know everything about you. But rather than assert their wrongness and make them defensive, you can acknowledge it as a common human failing and find creative ways to hold a mirror up to what life experiences they’ve had that lead them to jump to those conclusions.

One way is a kind of playful authenticity, telling a lie about a lie, to get back closer to the truth. So don’t outright challenge the idea, but don’t live up to it either, in fact live down to it. Playfully undermine the idea by failing to live up to the glamour of what it would mean to be that person, then find a way of revealing that it was a misunderstanding all along, so they needn’t worry about it applying to you.

Media Chasing – We shouldn’t chose our actions for the primary purpose of provoking conversations because it is insincere to ones own desires to materially affect change and it’s recognised as such by those who hear about it.

Transparency – We should be transparent with our supporters in all we hope to achieve and how successful we are being at achieving that task, so as not to attract funds for labor we haven’t and aren’t likely to be able to do.

Civil Disobedience – Whether it be breaking the law without causing any damage or economic sabotage and political violence which we’ll talk about later, anarchists hope to chose the right actions to provoke conversations and materially challenge unethical industries and actors, so as to push electoral politics towards direct democracy and eventually consolidate our gains in a revolution.

Fascists will also use tactics from civil disobedience to political violence, and tend toward violence against people for people holding ideas as the things they hate, rather than the lefts systemic critique of material conditions. All in the hopes of pushing society towards a more authoritarian constitutional republic, before seizing power in a palace coup and attempting to rule as a sequence of dictators for life.

It is up to the left to try and counter this violence by doxxing, making their rallies miserable, etc. And it is up to everyone to decide which government to vote in, to enact what degree of punishment to bring down on people breaking the law on either side.

Any direction the society goes in for either not controlling or bowing to which protesters demands is still the moral culpability of the government and those who participated in the party political process.

There simply is an obvious legal and moral difference between for example victimless civil disobedience on the left aimed at all people being treated equally in society like collecting salt from the sea or staying seated on the bus, to the type of violence you see on the right, like Israeli settlers throwing people off their land with arson attacks, stealing another country’s resources against international law.

But again, it is true that to whatever degree anarchists chose bad targets optically, we do to some degree bring the slow pace of change on ourselves by handing the right an advocacy win.

Graffiti & Culture Jamming – Whether it be an artistic masterpiece that no one asked for or altering a billboard to say something funny and political, instead of the advert that was there before pressuring you to consume more and more, most people can be won over by this as a good form of advocacy. Just don’t practice tagging your name a million times over every building in town.

Hacking – Obviously most people agree whistle-blowing war crimes is a yay. Selectively releasing documents to help conservatives win elections however, is a nay.

Sabotage – We should chose targets which have caused people the most amount of misery, for which people can sympathise most, like the sabotaging of draft cards I wrote about at the beginning. So causing economic damage to affect material conditions and make a statement.

We also need to carefully consider the difference between property which is personal, luxury, private, government owned and co-operatively worker owned.

So, it could be seen as ethical to chose material targets of evil actors in order to cause economic damage and make a statement, so long as in the case of personal property, the item has no sentimental value and can be replaced because the person is wealthy. Or is a luxury item that was paid for through the exploitation of others labor. Or is private property, meaning the means of production which should be owned collectively anyway.

It’s an expression of wanting to find an outlet for legitimate anger against that which causes us suffering. For example, if taking the risk to slash slaughterhouse trucks’ tires in the dead of night is how you develop stronger bonds with a group of people and gain the confidence to do amazing things like travel the world and learn from other liberation struggles.

Fighting – First off, I think propaganda by the deed, physically hurting people for the purpose of making a political statement is evil, as it runs counter to our philosophy on the left that material conditions create the person and so we should make every peaceful effort to rehabilitate people.

However, to the extent that some current institutions fail to rehabilitate people and the process of seeking justice through these institutions can cause more trauma, then personal violence to get to resolve feelings of helplessness in the face of evil acts can be an ethical act.

For example survivor-led vigilantism: [4]

“I wanted revenge. I wanted to make him feel as out of control, scared and vulnerable as he had made me feel. There is no safety really after a sexual assault, but there can be consequences.” -Angustia Celeste, “Safety is an Illusion: Reflections on Accountability”

Two situations in which prominent anarchist men were confronted and attacked by groups of women in New York and Santa Cruz made waves in anarchist circles in 2010. The debates that unfolded across our scenes in response to the actions revealed a widespread sense of frustration with existing methods of addressing sexual assault in anarchist scenes. Physical confrontation isn’t a new strategy; it was one of the ways survivors responded to their abusers before community accountability discourse became widespread in anarchist circles. As accountability strategies developed, many rejected physical confrontation because it hadn’t worked to stop rape or keep people safe. The trend of survivor-led vigilantism accompanied by communiqués critiquing accountability process models reflects the powerlessness and desperation felt by survivors, who are searching for alternatives in the face of the futility of the other available options.

However, survivor-led vigilantism can be a valid response to sexual assault regardless of the existence of alternatives. One doesn’t need to feel powerless or sense the futility of other options to take decisive physical action against one’s abuser. This approach offers several advantages. For one, in stark contrast to many accountability processes, it sets realistic goals and succeeds at them. It can feel more empowering and fulfilling than a long, frequently triggering, overly abstract process. Women can use confrontations to build collective power towards other concerted anti-patriarchal action. Physical confrontation sends an unambiguous message that sexual assault is unacceptable. If sexual violence imprints patriarchy on the bodies of women, taking revenge embodies female resistance.

Other examples we can think of are personally desiring to fight fascists in the street to block them from marching through immigrant communities. To pushing your way through huntsman to save a fox from getting mauled to death by dogs.

Political killing

I’ll work through hypotheticals from circumstances relevant to the past, present and future, then talk through the ethics of each.

Past possibilities

Most people agree anyone who took it upon themselves to assassinate Hitler a day before the break out of WW2 would be seen as committing an ethical act, no matter who follows, because throwing a wrench into the cult of personality spell built around Hitler would be a significant set back for the fascist state’s grip over the people. And given all the evidence pointing to the inevitability of war, such an act could easily be seen as a necessary pre-emptive act.

Present possibilities

Most can sympathise with quick revolutions against dictatorships where the result is a freer society, like the Kurdish uprising in Northern Syria which took power from a regime who had rolled tanks on demonstrators and outlawed teaching of their native language.

But, even there, there are key foundations you need to work from, like the probability you won’t just give an excuse for the oppressor committing even worse horrors as was the case with the Rohingya militants who ambushed a police checkpoint, resulting in army & citizen campaign to burn down many villages, plus murder and rape those that couldn’t get away.

As well as a responsibility to put down arms after winning political freedoms and a majority are in favour of diplomacy through electoral politics, like in Northern Ireland today.

Under representative parliamentary systems, the sentiment of most is that even if it could be argued that a war of terror against the ruling class was the easiest route to produce a better society, that it would still be ethically wrong to be the person who takes another’s life just because it’s the easiest way. Since regardless of manufactured consent or anything else you still could have worked to build a coalition to overcome those obstacles and change the system slowly from within.

And I agree, it would be an act of self-harm to treat life with such disregard when you could have been that same deluded person shrouded in the justificatory trappings of society treating your behaviour normally. I don’t think the way we win today is treating a cold bureaucratic system with equally cold disregard in whose life we had the resources to be able to intimidate this week. Time on earth is the greatest gift people have, to make mistakes and learn from them.

So then, an easy statement to make on life under representative parliamentary systems is; outside of absurdly unrealistic hypotheticals, I could never condone purposefully killing others when campaigning against such monoliths as state and corporate repression today.

Breaking that down though; what do I mean by an unrealistic hypothetical? For example the philosophical thought experiment called the trolley problem, where you have a runaway trolley hurtling towards 5 people tied to a track, and you can pull a leaver so the train changes tracks and only kills 1 person tied to a track. Or you can change it to 7 billion to 1 even. Or 7 billion of your average citizens vs. 1 million unethical politicians, police and bosses, to make it political.

Now what do I mean by purposeful, well we can think of for example the most extreme cases of post-partum psychosis which has mothers killing their babies. But more nuanced than that, the rape victim who gets worn down by their abuser for years until they have a psychological break and kill.

That does still leave a lot of lee way for people knowingly taking risks with others lives, not intending to kill, but who are reckless in their actions, such as with some forms of economic sabotage. And I agree such a reckless act would bring up feelings of revulsion for all kinds of reasons like questioning whether the person was really doing it to help people or for their own ego-aggrandizement. All that can be hoped is a person makes a careful accounting of their ability for human error and weighs it against the outcomes of doing nothing.

Future possibilities

We can hypothesise the unrealistic case of 99% of society desiring a referendum on a shift from parliamentary representative system to a federated spokes council system and the MPs dragging their feet, the same way both parties gerrymander the boundaries to make it easier to win despite it being the one issue most everyone agrees is bad, and people needing to storm the halls of power to force a vote to happen.

More likely though, an opportunity for revolution might arise from such a confluence of events as climate refugees and worker gains forcing the state and corporations into trying to crack down on freedoms in order to preserve their power and enough people resisting that move, who are then able take power and usher in radical policy change, with either the army deciding to stand down or splitting into factions.

References

1. Beautiful Trouble: A Toolbox for Revolution - Use your radical fringe to shift the Overton window P. 215.

2. The Camden 28 - The Camden 28 were a group of Catholic left anti-Vietnam War activists who in 1971 planned and executed a raid on a Camden, New Jersey draft board. The raid resulted in a high-profile criminal trial of the activists that was seen by many as a referendum on the Vietnam War and as an example of jury nullification.

3. Citations Needed Podcast - Civility Politics

4. Slavoj Žižek: Political Correctness is a More Dangerous Form of Totalitarianism | Big Think

5. A Love Letter To Failing Upward

6. Accounting for Ourselves - Breaking the Impasse Around Assault and Abuse in Anarchist Scenes.

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revchainsaw · 3 years

Text

Nausicaa and the Valley of the Wind (1984)

Prayers and Salutations Cult Members! I am your mysterious minister Reverend Chainsaw and this is another nights revival service at the Cult Film Tent Revival. I bring you a special word tonight. Tonight's word is about a person who roamed the earth, in a time where people were backward and warlike. A leader emerged into a kingdom full of eschatological expectation. This leader came preaching peace, and was killed for the sins of the world, but was resurrected. In that resurrection a new hope was brought to the planet, and true healing through the power of love in the face of violence is made possible. I am talking of course about Princess Nausicaa from the Valley of the Wind.

The Message

Nausicaa and the Valley of the Wind is the film that put studio Ghibli and Hayoa Miyazaki on the map. No animated feature this grandiose and epic had been achieved by 1984, as much as Disney may beg to differ. The tale may be simple, and it may feel super 80s to us today, but Nausicaa is a masterpiece, and the fact that Howl's Moving Castle is brought up alongside Princess Mononoke and Spirited Away more often than Nausicaa is a farce and a tragedy.

The film takes place on a fantastic planet that seems to have suffered the ravages of an apocalyptic war. A war that involved gigantic warriors with powers so devastating they about made the entire planet inhospitable if not uninhabitable; save for a few areas. The fall out of this ancient war has left the earth in a state of repair, where the natural processes of a planet healing has creating giant toxic jungles.

Beyond these jungles lie two imperialistic factions, they seem almost to be city-states but it's not terribly clear. The Kingdom of Tolmekia, a militaristic proto-fascist society of almost Spartan sensibilities. Tolmekia is governed by the ambitious and cynical Princess Kushana, But I like to call her Furiosa. Just like Furiosa, Kushana is physically missing parts of herself, a visual metaphor for her metaphysical lacking and the parts of her humanity she has cut away. Kushana's world view is one of fear, a fear that can only be quelled by waging a genocidal campaign against her enemies.

Speaking of enemies, the Athens to Tolmekias Sparta would be the Pejite Kingdom. The Pejites might like to view themselves as simply responding to Tolmekian aggression, but the narrative of the film, and the story told quite visibly on the body of Kushana, is quite different. The Pejites are just as bloodthirsty if not more palettable in their approach, but like the Tolmekians, they believe only their own lives have any value. And thus, in this theatre of war, a Giant Warrior from the ages before is unearthed by the Pejite Kingdom, Stolen by the Tolmekians, before the forces of nature themselves, seem to conspire to drop the Giant Warriors "egg" right into the Valley of the Wind.

The Valley of the Wind is populated like the world of Avatar the Last Airbender, that is mostly of children and the elderly. The people of the Valley have been able to remain untouched by the ravages of war and the toxic jungles of the damaged world primarily due to geographic luck that's explained in minor exposition in the film. They are ruled by a King, and they are all deeply enamored by their beloved Princess Nausicaa.

Nausicaa is a gentle soul. She is kind to animals, she is empathetic, unreasonably patient, and bears pain and grief inflicted on her out of cruelty with a saintly understanding. She really is a thinly veiled Christ figure, scratch that. There is no veil. But she's also my favorite Christ figure. She does not preach a message, as much as she tries to save everyone from their own short sighted goals. She is not perfect, she does lash out and do some fantasy sword fight murder, but she regrets her actions so deeply that it seems to have played a part in motivating her to become even more compassionate and patient with the evils of the world.

Nausicaa discovers yet another plot by the Pejites, who are afraid of the possibility of the Tolmekians awakening the Giant Warrior, to use animal cruelty to enrage a group of almost invincible giant insects known as the Ohm. By luring the Ohm into the Valley of the Wind where the Tolmekians have become an occupying force, they hope to completely wipe out everything that threatens them. The Tolmekians DO awaken the Giant Warrior and pure pandemonium ensues. Nausicaa manages to save the Baby Ohm and calm the rage of the bloodthirsty Ohm swarm, and to defeat the warlike tendencies of both the Pejites and the Tolmekians. All the while fulfilling a prophecy fortold about a messianic savior figure called the Man in Blue.

Now that you have heard the Gospel of Nausicaa, please stand to receive The Benediction.

Best Character: Half a Person

Now that I've spent the better part of this review gushing about our Lord and savior Nausicaa. I have to admit, she's at times a bit too perfect, a bit too saccharin. Even her flaw, or her one weakness and her failing to be perfect, just adds to the perfection. I can't even say she never makes mistakes cuz she made one, and that's infuriating. It's even more infuriating that I still think she's a great character. Normally this kind of thing really kills a hero. Most Chosen Ones are the most boring and least likeable characters in their narratives. I don't know how Nausicaa avoids this trap, but she does. I'll have to do some meditating on that.

However, just like in your typical Chosen One fantasy narrative, the hero is a lot less fun than the villain. I'm going to say the best character in Nausicaa is Kushana. I want to be like Nausicaa, but I don't understand her. She's almost alien, even though we learn all about her. Kushana is mysterious, secretive, and enigmatic, yet I understand her. She barely has an arc, she doesn't really change. She's cold and cynical to the bone, but I don't need to see much of her situation to completely understand why she is the way she is. I usually hate totalitarian bad guys, but Kushana I like. Sue Me.

Also fun fact, did you that Nausicaa means 'Sinker of Ships'. That's kinda fun.

Best Scene: Spoiled for Choice

I'm going to be lazy and say take your pick. There is really not a bad seen in this movie. If the action isn't going, then there's intriguing dialogue. If there's no dialogue then you may be about to get hit with a forceful burst of whimsy. There's horror, there's swordfights and aerial dogfights. The only thing in Nausicaa I don't like to see, is the bloody tortured Ohm Baby. It's like a god damned Sarah Mclachlan commercial.

Best Creature: Foxy Shazam!

The Ohm are so simplistic yet so detailed. The number of eyes is alien, but the way they are used is expertly expressive. Who'd think you could get me to love what basically amounts to a silverfish with the intensity that I love a kitten. How did Miyazaki pull an Okja with a creature that should be haunting our dreams? I don't know.

And what about the Giant Warrior! If you are an Evangelion fan then you probably already know that Hideaki Anno designed and animated the melting goopy biomechanical beast. Surely a sight that would make both H.R. Giger and Clive Barker giddy with excitement. Just the image of the silhouettes marching amidst the desolation of the old world is burned into my brain.

So which of these is the best creature from Ghibli's first outing? It's fucking Teto. It was always gonna be Teto you idiot. Just look at Teto, he's adorable. He's too cute to exist. I'm so alone. I need a pet.

Best Character Design: Tolmekian Regalia

I originally included this category to talk some about Kushana, however, at that time I also thought I was going to say Nausicaa was the best character. I thought hard about deleting it, but I think it's a different category and you can't accuse me of playing favorites because my favorite character is clearly Teto. Just to keep it simple. It's the two costume shift from full military regalia in white and gold, to the one metal arm, warrior princess get up. It's a great costume and a great look. Get on this shit cosplay nerds. It's great for Cons in Canada, you have to think about layers, and you can't keep going as Mr. Plow. It's lazy.

Best Excuse to Talk About Patrick Stewart's Character: Lord Yupa

I just realized that I was about to write this whole review without talking about Lord Yupa. Lord Yupa is a sword saint and all around badass I think a lot of entertainment, especially in the west is lacking bad ass old men. Lord Yupa particularly shines in the early half of the film as a warrior and as a wise council to Nausicaa. If she's Jesus then Yupa is John the Baptist. He is also voiced by the elegant and eloquent Patrick Stewart. He also comes with 2 chocobos!

Worst Character: For Whom Asbel Tolls

This might also be the worst actor category as well. Actual Cannibal (haha meme) and actual monster (haha real life) Shia Labeouf doesn't so much act in the role as he read the lines and it was recorded. The good news it doesn't effect the film too much because Asbel is completely forgettable. He is a catalyst to some of the action, but besides that I don't really care for him.

Worst Aspect: To Be Fair ...

It would be unfair to completely ignore anything negative about Nausicaa. I have already mentioned in many places that there are some pretty corny, or pretty predictable tropes to this movie. But what I can't capture in words is exactly why it feels fresh when it's done in this movie. I suppose that's what makes it good. It's just so good that it's weak points are lifted up by it's strengths. Some people may bored of Nausicaa's unyielding goodness, or that she very rarely chooses to take action as much as she chases and pleads with her surroundings, but I mean, she does pay for that eventually. It's a fantasy story and it hits a lot of timeless themes that have been hit in stories for as long as human beings have been telling stories. Some people may feel that it doesn't do enough to stand out.

Summary

I have defined the S tier for myself as "near perfect and personal favorite" films. I like to think that Nausicaa and the Valley of the Wind is near perfect. Some may say that it looks like it might just be a personal favorite. In the case of Nausicaa, I'm having a very hard time telling the difference. I think it would be overly simple to claim that Nausicaa is just an ancient archetypal heroes journey with an 80s anime coat of paint. I think it's doing quite a few new and interesting things with that formula, those things are just playing out all around that narrative as opposed to being at it's center. For a first full length outing by the studio, you can really see Miyazaki's heart and the values he holds close to. I'll repeat myself so that we are completely clear on the matter. I think Nausicaa and the Valley of the Wind is a near perfect movie.

Overall Grade: S

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savnofilter · 4 years

Text

Official Callout Post (5 - Q&A)

TW: mentions of suicide, ephebophilia, grooming, pseudo racism (microaggression). toxic friendships, harassment towards minors, mental health, fandom discourse.

*DISCLAIMER: THIS IS NOT BECAUSE OF MY AGE OR SOCIAL MEDIA. THIS IS BECAUSE TOXICITY/TREATMENT. This post is not just minors. This is for the people from different ages 16-22 who feel like they did not have a voice by fellow BNHA writers.*

Important Topics:

Clearing last statements

Addressing my callouts

Alienated mental health

Fic stealing

BNHarem server regulation

Where is the proof that there are people not speaking up?

*10

*11

*12

*13

What’s wrong with aging up?

@mci-writing: There isn’t a problem with aging up in specific, but rather how you go about aging up the characters, especially in NSFW pieces. If you’re going to age the characters up, make it apparent that the characters are aged up rather than just slapping the 18+ label, whether it be in an offhand mention of living in a house of their own or maybe something small about being in college if dorms are such an integral part to the work in question.

“If the minors knew it was an 18+ space, why did they join?”

@mci-writing: Their server is a 16+ server, so they were invited and welcomed once they proved their ages. Many minors that joined their server saw it as an opportunity to meet new people and make friends, all while being able to interact with their favorite writers in the fandom.

If the discord discussion wasn't about harassing Lady-bakuhoe, why did it happen?

@mci-writing: The first discussion quite literally was a couple of people active in the fandom, mainly writers, venting about how hard it is to currently get your works out there and just how hard it is to properly get involved in the fandom without some form of help from a clique. No one in specific was named that time. The other discussion was Sav venting about how she was treated after a whack ass callout post was made and simply because a writer was mad that Sav ran her server the way Sav wanted to, which led to her elaborating on the situation (it then prompted other people’s responses, whose responses are fairly similar to how many of you reacted to Jo’s small “callout”).

What legal offences have they done if charged?

@savnofilter: Well since you guys like supporting people you think should be in jail, considering Lady-Bakuhoe has shared a minor’s face and age, the offense would be up to the parents in question. It's stated in laws that even if the minor is a felon, you do not have the rights to share such information without law/parent consent. Although I cannot find anything about age, sharing a minor's face comes with consequences.

- UK source: 1

- US source: 1

Charges will be:

Lawsuit: exposing minor information without parental consent.

*****

To put in perspective, the U.S and UK are basically flip flopped. In the U.S it is not against the law to groom, but in the UK it is. It is illegal to have relationships with minors in the U.S, while in the UK it is not.

For knowingly engaging sexually with a minor (DMs), you can also be trialed for having depictions of any picture/video of minors. (ex: students in school uniforms) or minors in sexual situations. Although having a sexual relationship with a 16 year-olds is permitted, consuming child pornography is not. Grooming is also outside of sexual abuse, you can groom anyone for any reason.

- UK source: 1

- US source: 1

Charges will be:

Misdemeanor: for knowingly engaging NSFW with minors, causing mental anguish.

Felony: for knowingly engaging NSFW with minors, causing mental anguish.

2 Years Prison: sexting any sort of NSFW content to a minor.

Registered Sex Offender: engaging sexually with minors (U.S).

*****

For the acts of gaslighting, you can be sentenced if proven with evidence.

- UK source: 1, 2

- U.S source: 1, 2, 3

Charges will be:

Misdemeanor: causing mental anguish, this is categorized as mental abuse.

Felony: causing mental anguish, this is categorized as mental abuse.

*****

Sharing false and hurtful posts about someone with intention to hurt someone's image constitutes cyberbullying. This includes false posts to make someone look bad and sending hate (whether you directed it or not).

For perspective, once again it is flip-flopped. The U.S has many states so there are not any direct laws against cyberbullying (in my state and my friends it is illegal), but you can categorize abusive behaviors exhibited online as a form of abuse. In the U.K it is illegal, grooming is considered being one of the offenses.

LBH and or any adult who participated in posting, sending hate, or anything that repeatedly tore our image down would be classified as a Verbal Adult Bully.

UK source: link

U.S source: link

Charges will be:

Lawsuit: defamation of character, harassment.

Misdemeanor: harassment, abuse.

1-2 years jail or fine: harassment, intimidation, or bullying.

12 months jail or fine: classified as stalking.

*****

You can categorize abusive behaviors exhibited online as a form of abuse. In the U.K it is illegal, grooming is considered being one of the offenses.

- UK source: link

- U.S source: link

Charges will be:

Lawsuit: defamation of character, harassment.

Misdemeanor: harassment, abuse.

1-2 years jail or fine: harassment, intimidation, or bullying.

12 months jail or fine: classified as stalking.

*****

Since you only promote 18+ blogs in your 16+ server, the people who run/host the server will be trialed for exposing minors to NSFW

UK source: link

U.S source: link

Charges will be:

Misdemeanor: exposing a minor to pornographic content.

Third degree felony: exposing a minor to pornographic content.

1-15 years jail: exposing a minor to pornographic content.

Fine: $1,000 - $10,000

Don't you (minors) know it's illegal to consume and produce erotica?

@savnofilter: As long as we (minors) don't go as far to engage (message privately) sexually with people who are 18+, it’s not illegal. Reblogging or commenting on a work both ways isn't illegal either 1, 2. It’s only illegal if you approach minors and send it to them personally. If it was illegal, porn websites wouldn’t even exist. If you’re concerned about minors reading your stuff, don’t put them in main tags.

Can't the person producing the content get arrested?

@savnofilter: To put it simply: No. You will not go to jail if a minor reads your smut. With the other way around, you won't go to jail reading a minor's smut either. The laws state that you can only go to jail if you send porn (video, art, pictures) to a minor or produce depictions of a minor in sexual acts.

Therefore if you do not approach a minor with such contents, you will not be trialed. If this was the case, there wouldn't be platforms such as PornHub and etc would not be able to run.

Do you have a problem with them writing the content that they do?

@savnofilter: No. If we did it would be hypocritical. It’s more of the personal jabs to alienate teens feel in the writing community. This means having to go out your way saying stuff like “fuck minors” “minors are stupid”. People like to shove down our throats that we want to go into “adult spaces”. Tumblr is an open site for 13+, the anime being a Shounen anime. Again, if you don’t want minors interacting with your stuff, keep it out of main tags.

What do we want from this post?

The main reason why I even decided to speak up is because I was tired of always talking about how toxic it is here and always being accused of starting drama to shut me up. Sure, call it “bitching” and “whining” but why should I take bullying because I have less followers and half someone’s age?

The double-standard that I’ve touched upon in CCC or even how small blogs are treated. Fandom is supposed to be fun, and it’s not okay to let things slide just to keep things “happy”. Stop intimidating and shutting down people who finally have a choice to talk about the things they have been through just because your favorite says so. Don’t campaign about listening to hurt peoples voices, then proceed to ignore and ridicule people who do it in your own environment.

I’ve had people come into my inbox and mock me for admitting to being mentally ill and say I’m doing this because I’m sick in the head, or call me a liar only because I spoke up. The BNHA fandom needs to stop the popularity mob mentality. Before you blindly someone, think to yourself: why? Stop giving toxic people passes because there is always a high chance in them not even caring about you. Don’t be a sheep, think for yourself. That’s what I want from this post. Even if people don’t believe me now, you can’t say I didn’t warn you.

Here is what a few of our members have had to say:

Continuation here: main post, one, two, three, four, ▸five◂.

#callout #tw grooming #tw toxic people #lady-bakuhoe #fandom discourse

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fortheloveoffanfic · 4 years

Text

Protective Service

John Wick x Reader (A/n-random fact, in reality, The Irish is actually from the West, i.e, they’re called the Westies, but this is fiction so *shrugs*)

Masterlist Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Warnings- Tension?

Chapter 6 Jealousy And Other Sharp Objects

A week has passed, and things between John and Y/n had gone back to the way they used to be, as if she hadn't opened up to him, in a way she usually didn't to anyone, as if they hadn’t seen each other in a light that would blur the lines of what they were. Of course, the apathy exchanged immediately afterwards should have been telling enough, and for the most part, it was, at least for the first four or five days. It hadn’t even bothered John until, late one night, when he was heading to Y/n’s home office for confirmation on a work matter.

He was just walking up the hall, hands slipped coolly into his pocket and a file wedged between his arm and his side, almost near the door when it opened. He was wholly expecting Y/n, and was a little taken aback, even if he didn’t show it, when Donavan walked out instead, buttoning his wrinkled white dress shirt and blazer draped over his crooked elbow as he nudged the door closed behind himself. Both men brushed past each other hastily, not wanting to share the same square footage for longer than absolutely necessary and an irrational wave of jealousy surged up in him. Reaching the door, John could even hear Y/n shuffling around, probably just getting dressed. Still though, he knocked.

It took a minute, but eventually her voice rang through, cool and unaffected as she permitted, “Come in.” Drawing in a sharp breath, John pulled the door open, not sure if he should keep looking or turn away when he caught her in the midst of pulling on her thin chiffon blouse. She wasn’t half as exposed as she was during their shared evening in the kitchen, but there was something about knowing that Y/n had just been with someone else that made it seem wrong for John to look. Though he didn’t have much time to think on the matter for the minute she’d finished fiddling with the stylish ruffles at the neckline, Y/n moved to lean against the lip of her desk, breaking John’s thoughts as she ran her fingers through sex mused hair, “What do you want?”

Unable to keep the edge of unwarranted envy to himself, John lounged on the leather upholstered sofa kept against the wall, setting the file next to him before leaning back and crossing one ankle over his knee, “Does he know?” Nonchalantly, he nudged his head towards the door.

Her reaction wasn’t what he expected and Y/n quirked a mischievous smirk, her lithe fingers finding a half drank glass of Cabernet near some disarrayed papers, swirling around the remainder of her drink before slowly bringing the glass to her lips. Y/n’s gaze holding John’s didn’t waver, nor did the mischief reflected on her features, “Know about what?” Feigning innocence didn’t really suit her because even then a dark, menacing mystery lurked beneath her façade and Y/n didn’t look any less the vixen that she usually was.

“Don’t do that,” John huffed. It was a battle to maintain some semblance of dominance over the situation, neither of them wanted to be at the other’s whim and it only then dawned upon John that it was a miracle that they’d existed in the same space for just over two months without getting into a fight. They’d come close though, two personalities that alike were bound to clash. “You know exactly what I’m talking about,” he persisted, not phased in the slightest by her behavior.

“Why would he need to know?” Finishing off her wine, Y/n replaced the glass on the surface with a quiet thud, “Who I fuck isn’t his business, and its not yours either,” folding her arms, Y/n’s smirk widened a bit when upon noting how John stiffened slightly, “Are you jealous, John?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” John fired immediately, sounding more defensive than intended, “It’s just,” clearing his throat, he pondered only for a second before voicing his suspicions, “I don’t trust him.”

Smoothly, like aged whiskey over ice, Y/n chuckled, rolling her gorgeous orbs, “Donavan? You don’t trust Donavan? Now who’s being ridiculous?” Pushing off the edge, Y/n sauntered around the desk, easing into her chair, “He’s loyal, there’s no reason to doubt him.”

“I’m just saying,” pressing the matter was fruitless, yet John still continued, “You should keep an eye on him.”

“Stop it,” immediately, her tone grew firm and her jaw tightened, “Don’t do that,” exasperated already, Y/n threaded a hand through her loose tresses, “Is this what you came here talk about?”

Now, equally irritated by her dismissiveness, John’s voice took on a new harshness, “No,” He stood, swiping up the manila folder and taking long strides towards her desk, “These are the specifics for Vienna next week,” he offered hastily, the folder almost falling to the table top during the trade off, “Review it, tell me what you you think in the morning.”

Sighing heavily, Y/n almost felt guilty about the turn their conversation had made, but something stopped her, leaving her to try to call out to him in a tone tinged with annoyance as he headed for the door, “John-”

“Good night, Y/n,” he cut her off, stalking out of the room, leaving the door open.

The next week, Vienna. It was the morning of Y/n’s second meeting with the High Table and like the first, the hours before had brought a sense of dread with it, the only thing soothing her in the tiniest bit was that John would be right outside the door that time. They still hadn’t ironed things out after that late night in her office, once again sinking into a state where words spent between them were short and few. Usually something like that wouldn’t have bothered Y/n, but somehow, being at odds with John wasn’t the same; she secretly wanted him to care and not knowing if he still did was disheartening.

The whole thing had made her more snappy than she usually was; her quick temper grew shorter, her sharp words were given a new edge and her moments of quiet were vastly extended. For the most part, it made those around her even more willing to back down instead of pushing an issue. All except one.

The three of them had gathered at Y/n’s room that morning; Donavan to brief Y/n on the fast approaching meeting and John to leave with her when she was ready. “The mayor of New York is requesting your audience; at the charity gala next month,” Donovan casually eased in as they ate at a table near the room’s living room window.

Scraping her fork against the delicate china, Y/n’s absent gaze snapped up, focusing on the source of the words, “You can tell the mayor to go fuck himself.”

“Vila-”

Without letting him finish, she was cutting him off, “Donavan. I’m not interested, okay. We stay away from politics.” Clearly over the conversation, Y/n stood, taking her plate over to the room service cart, refilling her coffee afterwards.

“This could be good for us,” Donavan reasoned, forgetting his food and glancing at a still silent John before looking to Y/n, “He needs funding for his reelection campaign and he says that if he’s in for a next term he can give us a leg up; an in with the D.A and couple judges on our side just in case.”

“Yeah,” she huffed, “But it also gives him leverage. He can betray us just as easily as he’s betraying them, and one word and we’re over,” taking a long drag of her coffee, Y/n shook her head, “This isn’t a good idea.”

Standing abruptly, Donavan tried to step next to where she stood at the cart, though Y/n simply moved away, walking near to the table, standing where Vienna’s early morning sun would cast an otherworldly glow on her face. Simply taking it all in, John continued reading through the intel he’d had on the other members of The Table as he ate. “It is. Vila,” he whispered the name, hidden affection laced with the word, “This union could give us an edge on the Irish. Fuck the city, you’ve wanted to take time down since you stepped foot in the club house. If we don’t do this with Balinski, they will, and we can’t risk that.”

“Donavan,” Y/n’s exasperation was audible and John was internally glad that he wasn’t the only one on the receiving end of it, “You don’t understand. We need to be careful with who we trust, and Balinski, he’s not the kind of man we can trust. God,” she scoffed a humorless chuckle, “He’s a fucking politician, we don’t need his type sniffing around.”

“What we don’t need is the Irish with such a big leg up in the game. Look, we already have Staten Island and everything else in the west, but they have most of the east. We work with Balinski, we can take it, and wherever the fuck you want, no questions asked,” anyone from a mile away could see that Donavan was reaching his rope’s end and there was an sense of desperate urgency in his explanations, as if there was a lot riding on Y/n accepting the invitation to the gala, “We can not just hand this over to them, right now, we’re the one’s he’s asking for, but if you refuse this offer, he’ll be offended and he’ll shack up with them just to take you down.”

“There are other ways,” Y/n gritted. She didn’t want to, for even the slightest of a second, think that she might need someone alongside her to help her rise to the top. Y/n worked alone, it was how she had been trained and she intended in keeping it that way. She didn’t need anyone, especially not some sleazy politician looking for dirty money to help him plaster his face on billboards, to help her fight her battles, “And we can explore them when necessary.”

“You don’t understand how big this is for you Vila. For us,” Donavan emphasized, shaking his head and grinding his teeth, “You,” he spun hastily, turning to John, “Since she trusts you so much, why don’t you talk some sense into her?”

With a hard, cold gaze, John just stared, and Y/n was the one to interject, able as ever to speak for herself, “Talk some sense into me? Who the fuck do you think you are?” Folding her arms and standing her ground, “I don’t need anyone to talk sense into me, and if you think that that’s what you're here to do then maybe you should sit this one out.” For a minute more, Y/n and Donavan traded sharp glares, and again, it was Y/n that spoke, pointing to the door that time, “I mean it Donavan.”

Sniffing for effect, Donavan nodded bitterly, “Whatever you want boss,” the word was said with such disdain that it might have been an insult. And really, it was, considering that most times, Donavan was the only one that ever got a taste of being her equal. That was, until she’d hired John. “But I’m telling you,” he warned pointedly, “You make the wrong decision, it won't be pretty.”

Largely, she ignored him, pretending his words weren’t an omen, rooted to the spot until Donavan slammed the door. Fuming, Y/n suppressed the urge to throw something. She absolutely hated being questioned, her word should have had finality, not room for argument. Yet, when she shifted her gaze, feeling John's stare bore into her, Y/n suspected that another argument was in the making, "What?" She snarled, planting a hand on her hip, "Just say it."

"I know that this isn't my place," John began, standing as he did, swiping up his mug as he walked past Y/n into the living area, "And I hate to admit it," he continued, a begrudged twinge propelling his words, "But Donavan is right. If the mayor wants an alliance, you should give it to him."

Taking another sip from the scalding black liquid, Y/n followed John into the living room, sinking into an armchair; crossing her legs and placing her arms on the cushioned rests. "It's not that easy," turning to face the blank television, Y/n hoped the gesture would guard the first traces of defeat, "I don't need him having leverage on me."

"But he has it anyway," John insisted, going through the weaponry he went armed to her room with, "Think about it, he knows who you are and what you're doing. Balinski can rat anyone out if he wanted to. But he hasn't. Besides,” John was in the process of assembling a gun he’d taken apart for cleaning earlier; his stocky fingers working with precision and fluidity, “If he’s working with you, then you have leverage too, if he’s willing to partner up, then that’s gotta mean he has some skeletons in his closet, and if not, you’ll be the first one. You have the upper hand Y/n.” John cut his words short, putting the gun to his ear as he made a couple more adjustments, “I’m not saying you have to do it,” he sighed as he finally loaded the handgun that would ultimately become part of his on-person armory, “But I am saying that you should think about it.”

Y/n lapsed into a bout of deep thought, pensive stare far off and unintentionally falling to the display on the glass table, littered with an array of guns and blades, along with John’s mug near the edge. He was right, they both were, and Y/n hated defeat, but the more his and Donavan’s words sank in, the more she realized that she needed the alliance with New York’s mayor. If she didn’t take it, he and the Irish would have the upper hand, but if she did, for the price of a small risk, Y/n would have insurmountable power. She’d had to have been foolish to pass it up.

“Alright,” draining the last of her coffee, Y/n carelessly discarded the delicate cup on the end table next to her, standing with purpose, “I’ll do it, and I’ll go to that gala,” she was already walking off towards her bedroom and John had already nodded in acknowledgement when she added, “Under one condition; you go with me.”

“I go where you go, that’s the rule,” he hummed gruffly, not thinking much of it until Y/n turned, leaning against the metal doorframe, her constant, amused stare beckoning his attention.

“No,” a glimmer of a wicked smile tugged at her lips while a mischievous glint danced in her eyes, “I meant you go with me. Invitations for those things are usually for two people, you’re gonna be my…..plus one.”

Straightening his back, John briefly reflected on their conversation in her office and then more so on how confused his feelings towards Y/n made him. Guilt for seeing her the way he did, jealousy when she was with Donavan, irritation during almost every conversation they had and finally something simply…...undefinable. Fondness maybe, likeness, something that made him wish things weren’t as complicated as they were, that Y/n wasn’t who she was so maybe, just maybe, he could give letting someone in another shot. “That’s not part of our arrangement,” he countered dismissively; since she was so protective of her boy toy then should have just taken him anyway, “You should take Donavan.”

“I said I’m taking you,” Y/n turned again, strolling off into the bedroom, “Hope you’ve got a nice tux,” she teased, disappearing into the shadowy dimness before shutting the door behind herself.

*****

Tagging-@harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves @planetkt @wheretheriversrunintothesea @jupiterdawngirl

#fanfiction #john wick #keanu reeves #john wick fanfic #keanu reeves fanfic #john wick x you #john wick x reader #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves x you #ff #fanfic #protective service #jealousy and other sharp objects #requested

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cozy-the-overlord · 4 years

Text

Crimson Curls

Summary: A barista at the Avengers Tower coffeeshop goes missing. Her boyfriend, prominent Avengers engineer Michael Hauer, headlines a desperate campaign to find her, aided by the support of Tony Stark and the rest of the super-powered team. But as Hauer’s narrative begins to unravel, it becomes clear that a certain Asgardian prince knows more than he’s telling.

Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character

Chapter 2: Perception

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Word Count: 7,914

A/N: This is a long one... I actually considered chopping it into two chapters, but that would have messed up my careful three-act-structure plans, so I kept it in one. Hope you don’t mind!

TW: domestic violence

Read it on Ao3

It all started because of the Christmas party.

The funny thing was Loki didn’t even want to go to the party. He would have much preferred to remain in his room, flipping through a book he had read hundreds of times before, shielded from the crowds of eyes widening in alarm and conversations that would trail off when they noticed his presence. The mood always shifted when people realized that the alien who invaded New York was in the same room as them, and Loki had become rather exhausted of it.

But Thor had insisted. “Please, brother,” he wheedled. “Just this once. You’ll enjoy it, I swear!”

He had ended up humoring his brother, simply because he knew he’d never hear the end of it if he didn’t. He didn’t expect to be there long. Surely, within an hour Thor would have broken out the Asgardian mead and subsequently have forgotten all else, and Loki could slip away to the sanctuary of his soundproofed quarters.

Stark had been going around introducing them to his various compatriots: everyone wanted to meet Thor, and Loki was an unfortunate obstacle that they had to put up with to do so. Loki hadn’t been paying much attention to them.

But after a while, there was one couple that caught his eye.

“Oh, Thor, you wanna meet this guy!” Stark said excitedly, steering them over to the corner of the room. “Hey, Hauer! Over here!”

Michael Hauer was unimpressive. Tall, pale, blonde—his face looked no different from the dozens of other men Stark had paraded in front of him throughout the night.

It was the woman that stood next to him that piqued his interest.

“This guy’s one of our most talented engineers,” Stark was saying. “That new Quinjet was mostly his design.”

“You give me too much credit, sir,” said the man, grinning widly. He grasped the arm of his companion and pulled her forward. “This is my girlfriend, Kristine.”

Kristine smiled too, but it didn’t quite reach her cerulean eyes. She was a small woman, but her posture made her look even smaller, with the way she huddled in on herself, her face barely peeking out through the strands of her curly red hair. Her long-sleeved dress clung to her body and only accentuated her thin form. She looked like a twig, ready to snap in half.

Her dress was green. Perhaps it was silly that such a thing still garnered Loki’s attention after all this time, but it did. On Asgard, green had been his color, just as red had been Thor’s. Women hoping to gain his favor used to wear green to the royal balls, hoping that he would notice how perfectly the color of their gowns matched his cape. He was well aware, of course, that such a practice was practically nonexistent on Earth. He understood that the Midgardian holiday they were celebrating was associated with the very same colors he and his brother had once claimed for their own. The color of the woman’s dress meant nothing.

But it still caught his eye.

Thor bowed gallantly. “It’s lovely to meet you, my lady.” Studying her face, he added, “I think I’ve seen you before. Don’t you work at the coffeeshop?”

Kristine tensed. “Yes sir, I do,” she mumbled, her voice just barely legible amidst the hum of conversation. She refused to raise her gaze from the floor.

Stark laughed boisterously. “Of course, how could I forget?” He motioned towards her wild mane. “You really do stand out in a crowd, don’t you? Gee, is that how you two met? What do you know, I’m a matchmaker!”

Hauer and Thor both joined in his laughter, but Kristine just looked uncomfortable. Loki cocked his head to the side. It seemed he had found someone even more miserable at this godforsaken party than he was.

He kept an eye on her for the remainder of the night. It wasn’t that he intended to watch her, but his gaze kept drifting back to her frizzy red hair and her sparkling emerald dress. She looked rather lonely, hovering in her boyfriend’s shadow for the entire night. Hauer barely acknowledged her. He was too busy laughing with Stark or enthusiastically explaining something to Rodgers or guzzling beer with Thor. Loki was rather disgusted by it. Had he been Kristine, he would have walked out hours ago.

It was later in the night when he finally decided to approach her. He had been debating about it for a while. On one hand, perhaps she preferred to be invisible—as unhappy as she looked, she didn’t appear to be complaining about her situation. She certainly wasn’t making the effort to capture Hauer’s attention or to find other means of entertainment. But still, something ached in his chest at the way she stood by so stiffly silent as her boyfriend frolicked about the room having the time of his life.

When Hauer joined the crowd gathered on the balcony attempting to lift Thor’s hammer, Loki made his way to her.

He bowed slightly. “Forgive my forwardness, my lady, but I was wondering if you’d honor me with a dance.”

Kristine was startled. “Oh!” she gasped, jumping a bit. She glanced towards the balcony uncertainly. “Uh… alright.”

He saw it there, that familiar flash of fear that he had been so desperate to avoid tonight. He cursed himself inwardly. What had he expected? “I don’t mean to pressure you—”

“No, no, it’s fine!” she interrupted hurriedly. Behind them, people hooted and chanted as Hauer tried his luck with the hammer. She turned back towards Loki. “I’d like to. Dance, that is.” Her cheeks flushed pink.

“Wonderful.” Loki offered his hand, smiling slightly when she took it.

Loki had long been of the opinion that Midgardians had no regard for proper dance. The complex steps and fluid motions of his youth had no place on the barbaric mortal floors. However, that night he experienced a rare stroke of luck. The song that was playing was softer, the couples dancing merely swaying slowly to the notes. He pulled Kristine on to the dance floor, and the two fell into a rhythm quite smoothly.

At first, they didn’t speak. Loki wasn’t sure what to say. She was clearly not at ease—he could feel the tension in her muscles as they danced—but he was beginning to doubt that he was the cause of her discomfort. She kept looking back towards the balcony, as if at any moment she expected something to come crashing through the windows. When somebody coming back into the main room slammed the door, she whipped her head around so quickly that Loki’s cheek was pelted by red curls.

Kristine gasped in embarrassment. “Sorry!” she said quickly, stumbling over her words. “My hair—I know it’s a complete mess, I try to get it to stay put—”

Loki laughed. “Nonsense. It’s lovely the way it is.” She made a face, shrugging indifferently, and he frowned. “Why would you ever think otherwise?”

“I mean— it’s so hard to care for,” she said. “And it gets on Michael’s nerves. Such a mess…”

There was something in her tone that Loki didn’t like, something that seemed to go deeper than hairstyles.

“It’s perfect,” he said fiercely. After a moment, he added, “My mother always thought red hair was the prettiest shade.” He inhaled at the memory. Frigga had loved the color because of her mother’s red hair. Her sisters had all inherited the same shade, but she had been left with her father’s golden brown. She used to tell him this story often when he was a child, whenever he questioned why he looked nothing like his older brother. Although now, all things considered, he found himself wondering if that had just been yet another lie to keep him from trying to look deeper.

Kristine looked thoughtful. “Really? Huh. My mother used to say the same thing,” she sighed. “But I guess all mothers tell their kids they’re pretty.”

“Perhaps, but in your case, she was speaking the truth.”

The girl blushed. “Thank you,” she murmured.

Kristine seemed quite shy, but she laughed when he made a sarcastic joke about Thor’s hammer overcompensation, and when the first dance ended, she agreed to the second without hesitation.

“I’m not used to doing much at these things,” she admitted. “I don’t really know anyone here except Michael. I never know what to do with myself.”

“He’s not one for dancing, I take it?” Loki asked.

Kristine laughed nervously. “No, not really.”

Their conversation continued, soft and simple. Slowly, she began sharing tiny details about herself. She grew up in Virginia. She liked to draw. Her favorite color was dark blue, but she liked green too—although she seemed embarrassed when he complimented her gown.

“It’s just a plain old green dress,” she told him. “I’ve had it for years. There’s nothing really special about it or anything.”

“I don’t find it plain. It’s quite striking on you,” he twirled her gently, watching her skirt fan out around her legs. “Very pretty.”

When he pulled her back, her cheeks were bright red. “Thanks,” Kristine sputtered. “I-I think you’re pretty too.” She winced. “Oh, that sounded weird—”

Loki chuckled. “Not at all,” he said. “I’ll take what I can get.”

He was enjoying himself far more than he preferred to admit. When was the last time he had had a friendly, casual conversation with anyone? His interactions with the Avengers were stilted at best— a reluctant necessity that both parties avoided as much as they could. And Thor… Thor was still trying to live a fantasy where the past had been entirely forgotten and everything had been fixed between the two of them. Call it irony, but Loki wasn’t that talented at lying to himself.

But this… this was nice. Just talking, joking, laughing. Spending time with someone who didn’t have any ulterior motives or unreasonable expectations. It was rather refreshing, even.

Which is why it of course had to end abruptly.

“Kris!” Kristine stiffened, ripping herself out of his arms immediately as Hauer came barreling across the dance floor. “Kris, where the hell have you been? I’ve been looking all over!” He grabbed her arm and began pulling her back across the room. “I want you to meet this guy I work with. Remember, I told you about him—”

Kristine glanced back at Loki, shooting him what he thought was meant to be an apologetic grin. It came off as more of a pained grimace. He frowned.

It wasn’t the place to make a scene. Loki of Asgard, the invader of New York, throwing a fit in Avengers Tower because he wanted to dance with another man’s lover—oh yes, that would go over spectacularly.

Still, he lingered far longer than he ever intended, his gaze following the couple from the corner of his eye. Something about the whole situation didn’t sit right with him. He watched as the man Hauer had been so eager to introduce to her moved on after a few minutes of conversation, and Kristine returned to her dutiful place trailing behind her boyfriend. They left shortly before one in the morning, Hauer’s arm around her waist as they slipped into the elevator.

Kristine met his gaze just as the doors were closing. She smiled softly.

And then they were gone.

He spent the next few days pretending to have forgotten her. He should’ve forgotten her. She was nothing to him—a random mortal who he had just happened to dance with at a party.

And who had a selfish, egotistical boyfriend.

Now that he had been introduced to Michael Hauer, Loki noticed him more often. He worked a lot with Stark, drawing up new designs and overseeing their test runs. From what Loki saw, Hauer was quite intelligent, and well aware of it. He clearly prided himself on his work, as it seemed to be the only topic he ever wanted to discuss.

Loki had found himself lurking around the lab more often, listening in on the discourse that went on between the engineers. His behavior was… odd. Despite many of his coworkers often bringing up their significant others in conversation, Hauer never once mentioned Kristine. Had he not known better, Loki wouldn’t have thought the man was seeing anyone at all. It may have been nothing, of course—perhaps he just didn’t want to discuss his personal life while he was focusing on his work—but Loki couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off about Michael Hauer. His concern for Kristine grew.

It was about a week after the party that he spoke with her again. He went down to the lower floors a few times to scope out the coffeeshop where she worked. It seemed she was always on duty—her crimson curls stood out even when she had them tied back behind her head as she spoke with customers and punched numbers into the cash register.

It was something of a marvel, really; here was this woman who had stuttered and blushed her way through two dances (or a dance and a half, to be more precise), completely calm as she juggled the demands of what had to be hundreds of impatient strangers a day. Was she truly that comfortable with her task, he wondered, or was she simply a better actress than he would have given her credit for?

It was late in the day when he decided to find out.

For once, there wasn’t a line to the counter. Loki sidled up to the cash register and smiled. “Good afternoon, my lady.”

Kristine looked up from her cellular device with a jump. “Oh, hi!” she smiled, but her shoulders remained tense. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you down here.”

“No, you haven’t,” he said. “But ever since his first visit here, my brother has been completely infatuated with this drink of yours. I thought I might give it a try.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s-it’s kind of addicting.” She shifted, pushing a loose strand of hair back behind her ear. He frowned. She still had yet to look him in the eye. “Um, I wanted to tell you… I’m really sorry I dipped so quickly the other night. Michael had told me he wanted to introduce me to his friend, I had just forgotten. I didn’t mean to—”

Loki’s features softened. “I completely understand. No need to apologize,” he said. Kristine’s posture relaxed at his words.

“Really?” she asked.

“Of course. If anything, I should be apologizing to you. After all, I’m the one who stole you away from your party in the first place.”

“Oh no, you’re fine! It was—it was nice. I had fun,” Kristine blushed once again. He smiled wider. Never had he encountered an individual so easily embarrassed by everything she said. It was rather endearing.

She cleared her throat. “So, um, what can I get you?”

Loki glanced at the screen behind her, the various types of drinks laid out in an electric menu he didn’t have the patience to read. “It seems I am in need of your assistance on that front,” he said. “I know nothing of these beverages. What would you recommend?”

“Um,” she shifted, settling into her barista voice. “Well today’s special is the peppermint mocha—it’s kind of the last of the holiday drinks, so—”

“You misunderstand,” he interrupted. “What would you recommend?”

“Oh. You mean—,” Kristine stumbled. “Well… I’m probably the wrong person to ask. I—I don’t really like sugary drinks. I just stick to black coffee most of the time. But that’s just me!” she added hurriedly. “Most people actually prefer—”

“I think I will trust your judgment. After all, I am hardly most people,” he grinned. “I can’t say I enjoy you Midgardians’ obsession with sugar that much myself.”

Her brow furrowed anxiously. “Are you sure? I mean, it’s not that exciting—”

“I’m sure.”

She studied him for a moment, as if attempting to assess his sincerity. Her eyes really were quite piercing. Loki wasn’t sure if he had ever met a mortal with such vibrant blue irises.

“Okay,” she said finally, turning to the cash register. “Small, regular, or large?”

Loki followed her movement, leaning over the counter. “Large,” he said. “Why not? Let’s be dangerous.”

“Well, you are getting the most boring item on the menu, so I don’t know how dangerous you’re being.” Her eyes widened at her own words, clapping her hand over her mouth as her cheeks flushed pink yet again. “I’m sorry, I—”

But Loki was chortling. “My my, now where did that sharp tongue come from?”

Kristine giggled. “Cash or credit?”

She was still smiling when she handed over the warm paper cup. Loki took a whiff of the liquid and winced. “Norns, that is potent.”

“I think it smells nice,” she protested. “I—” Suddenly she stiffened, eyes trained on something over behind him.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder and seeing nothing particularly alarming.

“N-no, no, um—” she looked away quickly, raising her voice. “Is there anything else I can get for you today?”

Frowning, Loki shook his head. “No, I suppose that would be all.”

“Well, have a nice day!” Kristine’s smile was wide and strained. Her message was clear, although Loki couldn’t fathom what had so quickly flipped the switch from playful conversation to such an abrupt dismissal. It was only after he thanked her and made to leave that he found the object of her concern.

Michael Hauer was exiting the stairway, making his way across the room to the coffeeshop. She must have noticed him coming down the stairs.

Still, he was confused. What was so alarming about her boyfriend coming to see her? Was she concerned that he’d see her with another man and get the wrong idea? But surely the brilliant Hauer understood that his girlfriend’s occupation required her to interact with a plethora of different characters every day.

Loki watched as Hauer spoke with her at the counter. He couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but Kristine had become very still. In fact, she didn’t seem to be speaking at all: she just nodded and shook her head as her boyfriend continued. Loki found himself remembering all the things he disliked about Hauer.

After a few minutes, he left without buying anything. As soon as he was gone Kristine ducked into the back room, only to be replaced a short while later by another girl in a matching apron. Loki returned to his room silently, unable to shake the feeling that something was drastically wrong with Michael Hauer.

He began making a point of stopping by the coffeeshop once a day in the late afternoon. Furtive observation taught him that Hauer had a habit of showing up at the counter in the middle of the morning and again shortly after the lunch hour, although the purposes of these visits were still unclear to him. Kristine’s answers were evasive when Loki had attempted to casually broach the subject.

“Oh, you know,” she said, avoiding his gaze. “He just likes to check up on me.”

Despite his concerns about Michael Hauer (or perhaps because of them), Loki and Kristine struck up an odd little friendship. The coffeeshop was never that busy at the times he came by, so usually he’d stick around to talk for a bit. Their conversations were never anything earth-shattering: they’d complain about their lives, reminisce about their past, make fun of the eccentric individuals they’d see shuffling through the food court. Once, when she learned that Loki still had no idea how to use the cellular phone Stark had given him, Kristine insisted upon teaching him.

“So these are your text messages here,” she said, her fingers sliding across the slab of metal. “See the speech bubble? Geez, you have a lot of unread texts.”

Loki watched over her shoulder, doing his best to feign interest. “Now how could you tell that?”

“The number in the red circle in the corner. See that?” Kristine pointed. “That’s how many new notifications you have.”

“What am I being notified of?”

“People have been texting you. You can go in and—” she pressed the text icon “See? Here’s all your messages.” She frowned at the jumble of capitalized letters that greeted her. “It looks like they’re all from Thor.”

Loki yawned. “Is that so? Well then, we know they’re not important.”

She giggled. “Here, let me show you how to text back.”

Sometimes, she’d show him her sketchbook. Kristine really was a talented artist: her penciled sketches of the birds she’d see outside her apartment window looked as though they could almost fly off the page. She drew a lot of people as well. Most were portraits of Hauer, of course, as well as a light-haired, middle-aged woman Kristine identified as her mother, but Loki also recognized some of the Avengers: Tony Stark, Captain Rodgers, even his brother.

“You spent the time to draw Thor and not me?” he cried in mock outrage. “And here I thought we were friends! I must say, I’m quite offended.”

Kristine stifled a giggle. “I’ll draw you next,” she said. “I promise.”

In return, he’d show her bits of his magic. He’d conjure an illusion of a snake on the counter or make his hand glow or turn the sugar jar into a goblet of wine or something equally silly—hardly anything remarkable, but he loved how her eyes would light up at even the simplest of tricks.

“That’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen!” she laughed as she ran her hands through a fading illusion. “That is just so cool!”

He grinned. “You’re easily impressed, my lady.”

“I wish I had magic” Kristine continued. “It would make my life so much easier. Wouldn’t have to drive anywhere, I could just teleport. If I left my phone at home, I could just summon it through a portal or something.” She snapped her fingers. “You know what I’d do? I’d make it snow inside. It’s always so freaking hot in here—we could use some indoor snow.”

“There’s a far simpler solution to that problem, my lady.” He nodded at her shirt. “You should change your wardrobe. It’s far to warm in here for long sleeves.”

Kristine tugged at the collar of her turtleneck uncomfortably. “I guess. But—I’m just used to wearing this, you know? Like, you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, right?” She laughed again, but this time it sounded far emptier. “Besides, it’s not that bad in here. I just always make a big deal out of little things, you know?”

Loki nodded in agreement, but inwardly, he was distressed. He had suddenly realized that in the weeks he had been spending time with Kristine, he had never once known her to bare her arms.

His concerns only grew when one day Kristine came in to work with a blackened eye and a bruise that stretched down her cheek.

“Norns, Kristine, are you alright?” he cried. “What happened?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” she said, speaking so quickly he could barely understand what she was saying. “I just fell down the stairs at my apartment. It was my fault, they’re really steep, I wasn’t paying attention. It looks a lot worse than it is.” She smiled desperately. “One large black coffee?”

“What is your opinion on Michael Hauer?”

Stark looked up from the box of spare parts he was rummaging through in his lab and frowned.

“Hauer?” he asked. “Why do you care?”

Loki glared coldly across the room. “Simple curiosity. Indulge me.”

He smirked. “What’s the magic word?”

“Stark.”

“Fine, geez,” Stark turned back to his work. “Hauer’s a genius. You know that new Quinjet we tried out in Novi Grad? That was his model. I never would have thought to—”

“I understand that he’s intelligent,” Loki interrupted. “But what are your thoughts of his nature?”

“His nature?” Stark shrugged, dumping the contents of the box on his desk. “I don’t know, he’s nice. Fun at parties.”

Loki raised an eyebrow. “That’s all? Hasn’t he been in your employ for years?”

“Hey,” Stark raised his arms in mock surrender. “I focus on the important stuff. You know,” he continued as he picked out pieces from the pile. “You can see for yourself, if you hang around a few minutes. We’re staying late tonight to test out one of his new designs—”

He started. “Hauer’s coming up here?”

“Yeah. If you want to meet him, I can—”

But Loki had already dashed out of the room.

Kristine usually got out of work early in the evening, but he knew that when Hauer stayed late she’d wait for him at the tables across from the coffeeshop. Perhaps this would be the best time to confront her, when she knew her boyfriend would be occupied for the foreseeable future.

He nearly ran into the man on the stairs going down to the food court.

“Watch it!” snapped Hauer as he came barreling up the steps, not even looking up to see who he was snapping at. For a moment, Loki was tempted to remind him, but he held himself back. Now was hardly the time or place.

The dark-haired girl behind the counter wasn’t Kristine, and she visibly stiffened when she saw Loki coming.

“H-how can I help you today, sir?” she stuttered.

“I’d like to speak with Ms. Ververs,” he said. “Is she here at the moment?”

The girl looked surprised. “Kristine?” she asked. “Oh, um, you just missed her. I think she went to the bathroom.”

He nodded. “Ah. Very well. Thank you.”

Loki made his way to one of the tables, resolving to wait for her return. Time passed. Men and women trickled down the stairs and out the door. Outside, the sun began its slow descent beneath the horizon. Kristine still did not return. He had waited nearly forty-five minutes when Loki decided to go looking for her.

The nearest restrooms were empty. He went down the hall to check the others, peeping into the cubicle offices along the way. He couldn’t imagine what she’d be doing in there, but perhaps she had run into a friend and struck up a conversation and lost track of time—he hoped that was what had happened. But she wasn’t anywhere he looked.

Loki was on the brink of alerting Stark that one of his employees had gone missing so that he could check security footage when he overheard what sounded like muffled sobs coming from a broom closet.

Frowning, he tapped on the door. “Kristine?” He cracked it open and called again. “Kristine, is that you?”

There was a moment of hesitation before the answer came. “Yeah,” she mumbled, sounding completely exhausted. “Yeah, it’s me, Loki.”

He pushed the door all the way open. She was huddled in the corner, hidden behind a mountain of cleaning supplies. Her hair was beginning to slip out of her ponytail, framing her face in wispy strands of unkempt curls. Her eyes were swollen. Loki’s chest ached as he took in her appearance. In the low light, she looked more like a frightened child than a grown woman.

Loki made his way into the closet, stooping to avoid the low ceiling. “What are you doing in here?” he asked gently as he sat down next to her. “What happened?”

“Oh nothing, it’s just—I thought—” she hiccupped. “I just wanted to get away from everything.” She rubbed at her eyes with the corner of her apron.

“Here.” Loki summoned a clean handkerchief to his hand and held it out to her. This time, the magic trick sparked none of the usual wonder in her eyes. She took the cloth with a barely audible thank you.

“What do you mean by everything?” he asked.

Kristine sniffed. “It’s nothing. Really. Michael and I—we just had a little argument. That’s it. It’s nothing.”

“Nothing,” Loki echoed. “And yet you’re hiding in a broom closet.”

“I—it’s just—” she sniffed again, blinking back tears. “He gets mad sometimes.”

She blew her nose into the handkerchief, wincing when she pressed too hard on her bruised cheek. Loki thought of Michael Hauer, fuming on the stairs as he stormed off from the coffeeshop. He thought of how he had dragged Kristine away on the dance floor, how terrified she had been when she saw him coming while speaking with Loki at the counter.

Hesitantly, he gave voice to the suspicion that had been lurking in the back of his mind ever since he first laid eyes on the couple.

“He hurts you,” Loki whispered quietly. “Doesn’t he?”

Kristine looked up with panicked eyes. “You can’t tell anybody!” she cried, trembling. “You won’t, right? You won’t tell anybody?” she grabbed at his shoulders as the tears streamed down her cheeks, her breathing coming in fast spirts. “Please, he’ll get so mad at me if he thought—you won’t tell anybody, will you? Please—”

Loki gently pulled her shaking body into an embrace, trying to soothe her as she hyperventilated. “Kristine, it’s alright—”

She sobbed into his chest. “He’ll get mad, he’ll get mad!”

He hushed her softly, rubbing her back. “If you don’t want me to tell anyone, then I won’t,” he murmured. “Can you breathe in slowly for me now? And now out. Just like that…”

They sat in the dark for a while, Loki whispering quiet nonsense into her ear as her breathing stabilized. People passed by outside, but thankfully no one barged into the broom closet.

“Why do you stay with him?” he asked after several minutes of silence.

Kristine shook her head. “He-he’s done so much for me—”

“He hurts you.” He looked down at her in disbelief. “You don’t owe him anything.”

She inhaled hoarsely. “I didn’t have anything when I came up here. My mom had just died, everything was going wrong, I was so lonely—” she sighed. “I’ve never been good at—at making friends. But he—he was so nice to me… I don’t know what happened.”

She sounded utterly broken. Loki’s arms tightened around her without realizing. “He’s not worthy of you,” he whispered fiercely. “You deserve to be treated like a goddess.”

Kristine laughed humorlessly. “But I can’t just leave him,” she said. “I’d lose my job. He’s literally best friends with Tony Stark, he’d be sure of it. And I wouldn’t have anywhere to go—he owns the apartment.”

“Don’t you have someone you could stay with temporarily?” he asked. “Friends, family? Surely you aren’t entirely dependent on that rat.”

“My parents are both dead,” she whispered. “And I never really got to know anyone out here before I met Michael. After that… I never really hung out with anyone else.”

“You hang out with me,” he reminded her. “I’m sure I could arrange for you to stay somewhere. I’ll tell Stark what kind of person Hauer really is. I’m sure the Avengers would be eager to have him terminated if they knew.” It would take some convincing, but if he got his brother to believe him, Thor could surely convince the others. Perhaps Stark would be unwilling, but Rodgers held just as much authority as the mechanic, and Loki somehow doubted that keeping a known abuser on Avengers payroll would sit well with the Captain’s heavy moral compass.

Kristine was less convinced. “They’d never fire him,” she said bitterly. “Not for me. Michael builds all their world-saving technology. They rely on him. I’m just some random barista. They’ll never sacrifice all that stuff for me. And he knows it.”

Loki frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve called the police on him. Twice. I thought he was going to kill me,” she gulped. “The police got there, and he just talked his way out of it. Told them who he was, who he worked for, and they were like, shaking hands with him!” She sobbed. “They asked me if I wanted to press charges, and it was like, how could I? They were already on his side!”

“What do you do then?” he asked, horrified. “If you’re afraid to call law enforcement, what do you do when he’s attacking you?” Somehow, he already knew the answer.

Kristine shrugged. “Pray. Wait for him to get tired.”

“No.” Loki shifted, digging out the glossy Avengers-sanctioned cellular phone from his pocket. “Here. If you can’t call the police, call me.” The screen lit up the broom closet as he pulled up his number.

She frowned. “What?”

“Take down this number. If you ever feel you’re in danger, I want you to call it. Without hesitation.” Loki looked at her somberly. “I’ll teleport to your location immediately.”

“Are-are you sure?” she asked hesitantly. “Isn’t that number supposed to be, you know, like, top secret?”

“Don’t worry about it. Stark claims it’s untraceable.” He watched as she pulled out her own phone and began typing the number in. “I will get you out of this, Kristine.”

She ran her hands through her red hair. “You really think you can?”

“Yes,” he said. “I swear it.”

Things changed after that. His daily coffee-stops turned into check-ins: asking if she was alright, if Michael had done anything the night before, if he could do anything for her. It seemed that they had reached a period of peace: Michael was so distracted with his latest project with Stark that he didn’t have the time to be violent. Loki feared that it wouldn’t last long though.

Kristine had made him swear that he wouldn’t tell anyone else of her circumstances, so Loki figured that he’d have to get creative with getting Hauer out of Avengers Tower. Framing him as a security threat seemed to be the best option, as security was Stark’s highest priority. Loki set about planning to make it look as if Hauer was stealing SHIELD intel. It was a more difficult task than he anticipated. Leaving too obvious a trail would make Stark suspicious that Hauer was being set up, but too subtle a trail and nobody would even notice that something was wrong. He went back and forth on various plans, all harboring some flaw that could potentially give it all away, before storming out of his quarters one day in frustration.

It really shouldn’t have been so difficult. Loki sat in the food court, cloaked by an illusion, watching Hauer make his way down the stairs for his morning visit to his girlfriend. If he were to trip at the top of the staircase, put the wrong foot in the wrong place at the wrong time and go tumbling to his death, nobody would think anything of it. Oh, what a tragic accident. He was so young. And then they’d move on with their lives.

Yes, Loki thought as Hauer went on his way, it would be so much easier if you would just fall down the stairs.

He didn’t kill him though. It wasn’t out of any love for Michael Hauer—the very thought of the man drove Loki into fantasies of burying a dagger into his chest—but because of Kristine. Loki didn’t tell her about his murderous dreams, but she had her suspicions, and she didn’t like them.

“You wouldn’t do anything to hurt Michael, right?” she asked suddenly one day. “Like, physically?” She looked up at him, eyes wide and anxious. It cut him deeply to see her looking at him like that, as if he was the unpredictable monster she had to fear.

Loki shook his head. “No,” he said. “No, I wouldn’t do anything like that.” He left with his coffee, unable to shake the feeling of shame weighing down his shoulders.

It was late at night when the phone rang. Loki had been sitting on the couch in his quarters, the open book in his lap failing to hold his attention as his mind wandered to more pressing issues, when the ringtone crashed through the silence.

Loki jumped to his feet, clawing at his pocket to find the damn device. As quickly as it began, the room fell quiet. By the time that he had the phone in his hand, the ringing had stopped. Across the screen flashed a message: Missed Call from Kristine Ververs.

He didn’t remember making the decision to teleport to her apartment, only that suddenly he was there, ripping the door open so forcefully that the lock cracked.

Three things greeted him inside the apartment: Hauer, standing only a few feet from the door. Kristine, curled beneath him on the floor, gasping for air. And blood. Lots and lots of blood.

Hauer whipped up, eyes wild. “The fuck are you?”

Loki grabbed him by the collar and flung him into the television set.

Kristine was sobbing. Her bloodied hands clawed at the knife handle buried deep into her abdomen.

Oh Norns, what did he do to her?

“Here, hang on,” Loki knelt beside her in a frenzy, pulling her wrists away. Her shirt was soaked through with red. Helplessly, he pressed against her wound, hoping to staunch the bleeding.

How much blood has she lost already?

Panicked, he glanced around the room. The carpet was stained, a trail leading all the way back to the kitchen area.

“Loki,” she choked. “I didn’t—I tried—”

“Shh,” he hushed. “It’s alright. You are going to be fine.” He needed to get her out of here. He had no medical supplies in here, no healing stones. Gingerly, he scooped her up in his arms, kicking himself when she whimpered in pain. “I’m going to take care of you, alright?” he whispered as he stood. “You’re going to be fine. I swear, you’ll be fine.”

He teleported back to his quarters and laid her on his bed.

Healing stones. Need healing stones.

“Kristine,” he said urgently, bringing her hands to either side of the knife. “I need to you to press down here, okay?” He pushed her hands against her wound. “Just like that, alright?”

Kristine gave a short nod, but her eyes seemed to be staring past him.

“Kristine,” he tapped her cheeks, “Kristine, stay awake!”

She made a nondescript noise and nodded again. With a troubled look, Loki grabbed a healing stone and broke it over her stomach, casting a spell of light to activate it. The dust shimmered as it sank into her skin through her shirt. He pulled the knife out as the wound closed and tossed it aside.

Kristine moaned, her head falling backward on to the pillow as her eyes closed. That was okay. In the handful of times Loki had used healing stones on mortals (usually members of the Avengers), he had learned that their bodies tended to be overwhelmed by the magic and need to sleep it off. It was okay.

He watched her chest rise and fall with each small breath, her crimson curls seeming even more vibrant against the paleness of her skin.

It was okay, right?

Her pulse was steady. Loki took it twice more, just to be certain. Her temperature was normal. Her breathing regular. Everything was fine. He sighed.

Loki cleaned up the blood best he could without disturbing her, then washed off and pulled up a chair. Kristine was still sleeping peacefully. He wondered suddenly what Hauer was going to do. The man was used to getting away with violence, but this went beyond beatings: this was attempted murder. Would he come clean? Or (and the more Loki thought about it the more likely this seemed) would he attempt to pin the blame on him?

“He crashed through the door and kidnapped my girlfriend! I tried to stop him, but he attacked me!”

From an outside perspective, the story might seem believable. After all, most of this world still saw him as the monster who lurked in the shadows, waiting with sharpened claws for the opportune moment to strike. It would be easy for Hauer to paint him as the villain.

Loki considered waking the others and explaining what had happened, before Hauer had a chance to tell his warped version, but he decided to wait until Kristine awoke. It was her life, after all—she should have a say in how things played out. Besides, doing so would require him to leave her by herself for a bit.

He didn’t know what it was, but he didn’t want to leave her alone.

By morning, she still had not awoken. It was a bit concerning—the other times he had used stones on mortals, they had only slept for a few hours. By the end of the day, she still had not stirred and he was convinced that something was wrong. Frantically, he consulted his books, searching for some caveat he had overlooked.

The obvious answer would be that she was having a bad reaction to the healing stones, but such a situation would merit a reaction: racing heartbeat, wild seizures, delirious hallucinations. But Kristine was still. Her vitals were normal, her sleep tranquil. Loki didn’t know what to do.

It wasn’t until he found a footnote in his old healer’s textbook that he realized what was happening.

Note that the potency of healing stones can be affected by the mental wellbeing of the patient. An individual who has suffered under extreme stress for an extended period of time may have a longer recovery period than one who has not.

“Oh, dear,” Loki murmured. He closed the book slowly. “Extreme stress for an extended period of time”—that practically described Kristine’s entire existence. She was going to be out for a while.

He looked at her on the bed, eyes closed, breath soft. He had never known Kristine to look so at peace. Perhaps a long, deep sleep was just what she needed. He patted her knuckles gently.

“You’re safe here, my lady,” he whispered.

The next day, when no one had crashed into his quarters accusing him of kidnapping, he thought that perhaps he better find out what was going on. He slunk into the common room, hoping to overhear some tidbit of information. Of course, Thor was never one to appreciate his desires for stealth.

“Brother!” he cried when he noticed him, patting him on the back. “Where have you been? Have you heard the news?”

Loki stiffened. “News?”

“Michael Hauer’s lady has gone missing! You remember her, don’t you? You danced with her at Stark’s last party.”

“Yes,” Loki frowned. Thor didn’t seem to have any idea of his involvement. “What do you mean ‘missing’? Has she been abducted?”

“We don’t know,” Thor said, shaking his head ruefully. “She and Hauer had a fight the night before last, and she stormed out. Hauer only saw yesterday morning that she never returned.”

“Oh.” Loki stared for a moment, shellshocked. Hauer had made up a story that didn’t include him in it. Why would he cut out his easiest option for a scapegoat? “Well,” he said cautiously, “I assume every effort is being made to retrieve the young lady.”

“Oh, yes. Stark plans to help the police, to make certain she’s found safely,” Thor sighed. “Poor Hauer. I can’t imagine what he’s going through right now.”

Loki shook his head. “No, neither can I.”

It was an interesting tale that Hauer had concocted. Loki watched it play out over the next few weeks as he watched over Kristine. Listening to the piece of filth pretend to weep over the woman who he had beaten and abused and buried a blade into made his blood boil, but Loki put up with it in an attempt to understand what Hauer was trying to accomplish. Shockingly, he continued to stick to his story: he and Kristine had a fight at around ten, she got angry and stormed out, and when he woke up the next morning he realized she hadn’t come back.

At first, Loki thought he was simply trying to cover up his violent history. But it didn’t make any sense: he had the perfect opportunity to solidify his innocence by throwing the blame on to Loki, and yet he continued to dig himself into a hole by claiming Kristine left on her own—something security cameras proved never happened.

It was only when he stopped to consider that Hauer had to have taken the time to clean the apartment, wash away the traces of blood and fix the lock and right the television set, that Loki began to examine an alternative explanation. Did… did Hauer even know what happened that night? Loki hadn’t exactly checked his force when he threw him across the room. It was possible that he didn’t even remember Loki showing up, didn’t remember what happened to Kristine… and woke up in an apartment full of blood…

Oh my, Loki thought as he watched Hauer stumble through an interview on television. He thinks he killed her.

The revelation and thought of the stress it must have been causing him gave Loki great joy, but watching the world fall for Hauer’s story hook, line, and sinker was frustrating beyond words. As the Avengers showered him with pity, not even bothering to question the shakiness of his ridiculous story, Loki thought of Kristine’s words in the broom closet, her steadfast belief that nobody cared enough about her to turn on her boyfriend.

Then the narrative flipped.

Loki remembered Kristine telling him about those two phone calls, but nothing could have prepared him for actually listening to them.

“Can you please just send someone?” her voice was shaking, barely holding together as she breathed into the phone, “He’s really mad, I think he’s going to break down the door. Please, is someone coming?”

Loki wasn’t sure what hurt him more, hearing her whisper through such unadulterated fear, or knowing that when the someone did arrive, they did nothing to help her.

The public had turned on Michael Hauer. The police found traces of blood in his apartment. Stark fired him. Descriptions of the missing knife plastered the news. Demands for an arrest flooded the Internet. The search for a body kicked into full gear. And then Loki had an idea that could put the nail in his coffin.

He left the knife where it was sure to be noticed by someone, just sitting atop the dumpster behind their apartment building. Sure enough, it was found within hours.

Four days later, Michael Hauer was arrested and charged with the murder of Kristine Ververs.

That same day, Kristine woke up. He had become so used to her stillness that he nearly jumped out of his skin when she groaned.

He knelt next to the bed. “Kristine?”

She stretched, blinking her cerulean eyes. “L-Loki? What—where are we?”

“My quarters in Avengers Tower,” he smiled wryly. “You’ve had a bit of a nap.”

Kristine shot up as if she was struck by lightning. “Michael! Oh my God, he—” her hands flew to her stomach, where the knife had gone in. “What—how—did he—”

Loki hushed her. “It’s alright. You’re safe. He can’t hurt you,” he said, taking her hands in his and giving them a reassuring squeeze. “I have much to tell you…”

#loki x ofc #loki marvel #loki fanfic #avengers fanfic #crimson curls #chapter 2 perception #crimson curls chapter 2

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cryptonewsmanuelakanji · 3 years

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NiftyPlanet (NFPL)

NiftyPlanet (NFPL) - Decentralized international NFT marketplace.

What is the main aim for the NiftyPlanet project?

NiftyPlanet is an NFT marketplace and minting platform that utilizes the NFPL token to empower users who actively interact with the platform.

Users on the NiftyPlanet platform can buy and sell NFT’s (non-fungible tokens) created for rare and unique digital items such as music, artwork, trading cards, experience-sharing, hybrid digital/physical, and in the near future, even physical items.

NiftyPlanet’s plans extend far beyond being just another marketplace for digital collectibles and art. We intend to bridge the digital and physical world via blockchain technology to make it possible for collectibles and creations borne from both worlds to be shared with the world in the same exciting place.

We also want to give an international voice to creators that have never ventured past their own “neighborhoods” by connecting creators with an exploding International Crypto community.

Finally, we plan to provide a place where creators can monetize their creativity and even make a living from it, something especially needed in the wake of the globalist-created plannedemic, inhuman lockdowns and global financial destruction of 2020–2021. NiftyPlanet also wants to give back to all of its users and will offer rewards for active participation on the platform (creating and selling, collecting, voting and moderating, etc.). NiftyPlanet plans to provide the opportunity for farming to earn, as well.

The NiftyPlanet protocol is a solution to the limitations faced by the intellectual property market, including licensing and paperwork challenges, piracy issues and right-protection, limited or subdued revenue, and more. The advent of NFT’s represents an awesome alternative to everyone.

NIftyPlanet Video Guides - NFTとは？

https://youtu.be/8qApW2D_sn4

Why is the NiftyPlanet project team remaining anonymous?

We believe that new era of privacy and also private money is here. The world is changing very fast and people want to have a new approach in their relationship with the world at large, including the economy and government. It is clear, especially after the tyranny that has arisen from the insane and and irrational response to the “pandemic” that the NWO and its buddies in the new Pharmaceutical Industrial Complex, are currently trying to take over the world, and or kill us all. We feel that it is essential that we all begin guarding and protecting our privacy and rights before everything we own and love is gone or usurped by the “powers that shouldn’t be” either via their surveillance, assisted by other NWO buddies such as the tech giants we all know and love. Our own efforts start with this project. Those megalomaniacs aren’t welcome to participate in our community nor do we want anything to do with them thus we choose to remain anonymous.

We also feel there is too much pressure on companies and individuals to pay exorbitantly high taxes. And besides the obvious fact that taxes are too high, governments have shown perpetually that they are completely irresponsible in how they use taxes they collect from hard working citizens the world round; wasting and misusing funds for personal ends such as visiting prostitute establishments, rebuilding the same road many multiple times just so they can receive the same budget as the previous year, and last but not least to start wars, spending billions worldwide to create weapons of destruction to kill people in foreign countries that the taxpayers have no desire to have conflict with at all in the first place. But saying all this does not mean that we are against the taxes completely. In fact, we will gladly support the payment of taxes when they will be used for the people that bust their asses to pay them, and not to benefit the psychopaths who are currently in control of the spending of the taxes they collect from all of us. Taxes should migrated to a cryptocurrency basis and the method of payment should be changed from advanced payment — where you pay VAT, consumption taxes or taxes from your income from trading, to the “payment for the results”. In business area it’s called “Pay for Performance Principle”. In this payment for results scenario, for example, if you were happy with how the roads look around us that were built by your government, you would go to the DeFi Tax platform and pay directly to the company who built those roads. The same with your local Police force or any other kind of service that are currently funded by the thousands of types of taxes collected around the world. This way of paying taxes after you see the results or actual use of those taxes will motivate governments to transform and become more effective, efficient and responsible, and it will improve the world and environment around us. In our opinion, VAT that we are all paying in shops is absolutely enough for the government to survive. The rest of the Taxes we will pay in the future, once governments recognize and respect that The Era of Private money is here and we will no longer forgive their irresponsible use of our hard-earned income.

Cryptocurrency gives us our power to control our governments once more, the way they should be. Until the governments can prove they can be responsible and will not misuse or simply steal taxed money from the people we have no reason to hand any over to them. Another important reason for remaining anonymous, is routine paperwork and other extra costs. Once we register any kind of a earth-based company we need to hire a lawyer open a physical office, get and send correspondence in perpetuity. And all these things decrease our efficiency and effectiveness. In our initial stage we can not allow ourselves to waste such important resources as a time. We would better off investing this time to improve your user experience on our platform and make your life easier and more interesting, and to provide more creative and financial opportunities for our users.

The structure of NFPL token distribution

The NiftyPlanet platform is a semi self-funded platform. Half of the funds for the development and platform launch were provided by a few pre-seed investors.

Total token supply is 1 billion tokens.

There are 10 pre-seed investors of this project. In total they control 83M tokens. Additionally, they own 29% interest in the project.

2 main Founders control 8% of all token supply (80M tokens).

Tokens have been distributed to 2 founders, 2 team members and 10 pre-seed investors.

Before we hold our IDO which is planned for June 2021, founders’ and pre-seed investors’ tokens will not move at all. The main reason we are doing this is because we believe that people who participate in IDO’s should have a guarantee that the team and investors will not sell all of their tokens all at once before the IDO starts.

In the graphic you can see the entity structure of token allocation with exact ETH addresses. Until the end of the actual IDO, there will be no NFPL transactions originating from project or investor wallets.

Founder 1 (4.00%)

0x313a82316f2591ecdff509699f80ff434b4f23a1

Founder 2 (4.00%)

0xb85d39145755ca7cbd7a0703327dd0ad7fc7137c

Pre-seed investor 1 (2.00%)

0x3fb9bea7a24b70bc7588c5c25815f5d6a5936cdd

Pre-seed investor 2 (1.15%)

0x05fc4d24c1ccd25b69b8d072f4234d37d2f26bb3

Pre-seed investor 3 (0.60%)

0x9664a89a0627106d02a0143f3e6b8cc8403070cd

Pre-seed investor 4 (0.55%)

0x6ada63ea649c558718da343f09be19421724f6a6

Pre-seed investor 5 (0.40%)

0xcbc297537f30d383460862e86c3c7c332b2f1eda

Pre-seed investor 6 (0.40%)

0xbf9c915abf2003da52a6e67ae6bcd2daba6779a1

Pre-seed investor 7 (0.40%)

0x9cf8e867328eb1d35c6637c5c75fd7851d879ef5

Pre-seed investor 8 (0.40%)

These tokens will be distributed after IDO

Pre-seed investor 9 (0.40%)

0xe81C6E1B75dD8fA589Ce0389dEc305e899FA943D

Pre-seed investor 10 (2.00%)

0x58E2966cA92Eb9FebE5f6c05DA653E464aF2531A

Core team member 11 (1%)

0x6802bf043ECA770F7c1F4A03C9D68F9D181591fe

Core team member 12 (1%)

0xeAe5700167e71E88f2D20CDf5E7B743C8EB79533

Marketing (10.00%)

0xC5F62cCDB455800c1daa1e8f6b0678A77F71B756

Main address with rest of the NFPL tokens (81.70%)

0xee0ab4691476244d1633d8d1197d0a66def7e5a9

Buy our NFTs from the first Original NiftyPlanet drop!

https://twitter.com/i/status/1406979232463470599

#niftyplanet #digitalcollections #NFTs #ETH #Drop

Platform Roadmap

Development of "NFT Creation Engine" and marketplace.

Launching of marketplace Beta Testing, presenting exclusive Drops.

Collaboration with show-biz talents, artists, and creators in Japan and China for Drops.

Implementation of invitation system/Start reward system for users.

Opening of NFT creation to all content creators.

Official launch and mass marketing in Japan and China.

IDO (Initial Dex Offering) in Japan, China, and Internationally.

Voting system integration and delegation of Management to the community.

#niftyplanet #nifties #NFT #NFTCommunity #digitalart #NFTmarketplace

NiftyPlanet — Where Are We Heading?

NiftyPlanet is the world’s marketplace for Nifties. Nifties are authentic and verifiably unique digital items you can truly own. Our team has been working hard to create something worthy of the attention of our community. After quite a lot of testing of the platform, we are happy, excited, and proud to announce that we are officially launching tomorrow, June, 19th! Our first drop is now scheduled, so more info will be published on our social media shortly.

Let’s talk about some things that you can expect in the next few days. On June 22, we are conducting our first Chinese AMA, so make you follow our WeChat and have your questions ready.

Another important piece of news is that NiftyPlanet is starting its first bounty campaign. During the next 8 weeks, bounty hunters will have a chance to earn $9,000 worth of NFPL tokens.

There will be 160 winners in total. At the end of the bounty campaign, we will count the number of stakes earned in all bounty programs and reward the best achievers. To increase your chances of winning, participate in several bounty programs. More details and rules will be published separately.

Our first ever AMA session is live. Only for Chinese people!

#AMA #Niftyplanet #digitalart

For more information about niftyplanet

WEBSITE: https://niftyplanet.co/

MEDIUM: https://niftyplanet.medium.com/

TELEGRAM : https://t.me/NiftyPlanet

TWITTER: https://twitter.com/PlanetNifty

YOU TUBE: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC7iTV9RFgEOQsxhOaKfITDw

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/nifty.planet/

Reddit: https://discord.com/channels/829112237247561738/829112237247561740

Author:

Bitcointalk Username: Manuel Akanji

Bitcointalk Profile: https://bitcointalk.org/index.php?action=profile;u=2954998

Telegram Username: @Manuelakanji777

ETH Address: 0x176a48a2Eb8FF8dfa46e58741E4A7b642C90F512

#niftyplanet digitalart NFT AMA NFTCommunity NFTmarketplace nifties

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that-shamrock-vibe · 4 years

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Movie Review: Scoob! (Spoilers)

Spoiler Warning: Alright so this isn’t the type of movie that really warrants two separate reviews, but because it was only released recently I feel a spoiler warning is warranted as I will be talking about specific points in the movie. So if you haven’t yet seen Scoob! and don’t want anything ruined before you do, go and watch then come back.

General Reaction:

So, I’m having a hard time really getting to grips with my enjoyment level of this movie. Because while I don’t think this was a bad movie by any means, I always wouldn’t rank it as one of my favourites particularly with this new wave of nostalgia-based movies that seems to be a thing in recent years.

Maybe the problem is I am not an avid Scooby-Doo fan, a lot of people may think that is sacrilege and I did grow up watching the original Scooby-Doo shows and movies, but I wasn’t as into it as I was other Cartoon Network shows or even other Hanna-Barbera properties.

On that note, something that fascinated me about Scoob! in its promo campaign outside of it being a stunning CG-Animation movie was the inclusion of other Hanna-Barbera properties. In the trailer it is simply Dynomutt, Blue Falcon and Dick Dastardly, the former two who I believe were spin-off characters of Scooby-Doo originally and Dick Dastardly who of course is Dick Dastardly. Wacky Races and its spin-off Dastardly and Muttley in Their Flying Machines were shows I was an avid fan of, but once you see the movie and you realise that Warner Bros. Animation is really pushing for a Hanna-Barbera cinematic universe to stem from this with the amount of references and cameos of other characters and properties it is fascinating to me.

For instance, The Amazing Spider-Man 2 attempted something similar by effectively shouting about the fact that this movie was supposed to not only set up a third Spider-Man movie but also a Sinister Six movie and a Black Cat movie, then it was revealed Venom and Carnage were supposed to come into play, but then the whole thing got canned because the movie tried doing too much too soon.

Here though, they are subtle references that, unless you know the characters, don’t really register. I mean one or two are really obvious like having this universe’s version of Captain Caveman be somewhat of an antagonist here...I will be talking about him further down...but there are also just simply posters and name references that catch your eye if you know the characters. I don’t know every Hanna-Barbera character but the one that did catch my eye was a cardboard cutout of Hong-Kong Phooey.

As for the actual movie from a storytelling perspective, again I never really thought there was anything that grand about Scooby-Doo in terms of how they told a story. It was one of the first “monster of the week” shows in how formulaic it was and there was almost always a predictable formula in how each character would play their part.

In hindsight to that, I do appreciate both this movie and the first live-action Scooby-Doo movie for actually making that a satirical plot point, but in not having that much of a plot to base the movie on...I mean you can tell this is really an origin story of sorts in that if they are planning a cinematic universe this is that first rock, but unlike Iron Man they never had that hook that made you want to see the story continue.

I guess you could compare it in-house to what the DCEU did with Man of Steel. I didn’t really need more from after seeing that movie but I did want to see what this universe’s versions of some of my favourite DC Characters would be like, in a way this is similar.

It does sound stupid but the plot very much feels like a Scooby-Doo movie plot, in that the movie opens with that classic “monster of the week” unmasking, but the main threat of the movie is a real monster with some type of supernatural mystical twist.

But also, in adding the entire universe of Hanna-Barbera characters to that, you also have the most blatant in-movie Warner Bros. promo campaign with so many of the studio’s other properties being name-dropped it was borderline laughable.

In terms of the actual movie experience, this isn’t the first time I’ve watched a movie for the first time not in the cinema but knowing that the movie should have been released in cinemas rather than me simply not seeing it for any reason was rather surreal and, I do feel that this is the type of movie that warrants an audience viewing rather than just me watching it in my bedroom.

I also feel I would have enjoyed it a lot more with an audience, particularly an audience that doesn’t mind slightly dated, cheesy or somewhat really obvious plot points at times. I kind of predicted every major plot twist in this movie, although a couple of them I feel the audience is supposed to know from the get go otherwise why make it so obviously unless your pandering to a really young audience that don’t have two brain cells to rub together and tell that Fred with a really sinister grin full-naming Scooby is really the main villain in disguise particularly when you just saw him do the same thing ten minutes before.

But anyway, rather then going character by character in this spoilery section I’m going to break it down into what I liked and what I didn’t like. There was nothing I loved but also nothing I hated.

What I Liked:

But in terms of the overall message of the movie, Scoob! really hammers home that old-school notion of Man’s Best Friend, and not just with Shaggy and Scooby which is all I will say on that.

Alright so this movie is obviously called Scoob! and focuses on Scooby as effectively the main character as well as his friendship with Shaggy. The two really are one character in that you can’t really imagine one without the other, and the movie really explores that in both good and bad ways...we’ll get to the bad.

As a dog lover and dog owner myself, this movie really spoke to me on that level and the bond that Shaggy and Scooby share I finally understood. In all other media for me it’s more a case of Scooby and Shaggy just being friends but here that bond goes deeper because you see them meet and you see them essentially become family.

I really didn’t like the plot device of making them fall out only to have them make up later, it just is a very lazy trope at this point particularly as I’ve already seen it in a Scooby-Doo property before.

But they do kind of explain why it is necessary and why it happens because while they do have their friends at Mystery Inc. Shaggy and Scooby had no one before having each other, so when one feels like they’re drifting apart something flips and they get very possessive.

Also that ending, I mentioned this movie has a lot of things thrown in but while Hanna-Barbera and Warner Bros. references are kind of in sync with this movie, how about Greek mythology to the point where they effectively summon the Underworld to Earth!

I’m a massive Greek mythology fan, and seeing the main monster of this movie actually being from Greek mythology and animated so beautifully is why this is in the good section, even if the Underworld actually looked like the Cave of Wonders from Aladdin.

The voice cast for this movie is also unexpectedly brilliant. A lot of people may complain that the original cast who are still all alive, I think, weren’t asked back but outside of Frank Welker as Scooby I don’t think you really need them.

Zac Efron is one of those actors at the moment that can do no wrong for me, he can do comedy, he can do musical, he can do drama, he can do serious gritty drama. I really loved him as Fred here.

Will Forte didn’t fool me into thinking it was Matthew Lillard returning to the role because I feel his voice here wasn’t as squeeky or high as Lillard’s, but he still did a great job, Ian Armitage voicing the kid version was great too.

Gina Rodriguez is a choice for Velma not just because like a lot of these characters the classic Velma’s voice is very distinct and almost iconic but to actively race-bend the character and make her Latina I thought added some much needed diversity to this movie and the Hanna-Barbera universe in general.

Jason Isaacs as Dick Dastardly was really a fantastic choice both for the actor and for the character. There were times particularly towards the start when he made Dick sound like Captain Hook and even his design here is very Captain Hook/Gru esk rather than the lanky Dick Dastardly design, and I was missing his classic hat. But for me Jason Isaacs is at his best when he’s playing a villain.

On that note, Dee Dee Sykes and Dynomutt I thought were absolutely wonderful here, I’d actually say these two and Dick Dastardly were my favourite characters. All the D’s apparently.

Not only was it a teachable moment for me because I had to look up someone I was pretty sure was someone I thought they were in terms of me knowing Dee Dee originated in Captain Caveman and the Teen Angels, but here was on Blue Falcon’s crew with Dynomutt and no reference to Captain Caveman whatsoever I was okay with.

Also, I cannot believe I am saying this but, this movie actually made me like a Ken Jeong performance. I cannot stand this man, I do not find him funny, I do not find him entertaining, yet something about him voicing Dynomutt who originally I swear what meant to have the brain capacity I associate with Ken Jeong, but to make me like the character was impressive.

The final thing on my good list to mention is that opening sequence, after the very heartwarming opening scene of Scooby and Shaggy meeting and a Halloween setting of the team first coming together to battle a monster of the week in a It inspired haunted house, they show a shot-for-shot remake of the opening credits for the OG cartoon which is rather clever.

The only other voice actor to mention in the good section for me is Simon Cowell, not only do they have Simon playing himself in such a brilliant way but also his son Eric also voices a character, very brief and not central to the plot, but really a cute moment. Also I don’t know why but Simon in voice over sounds almost like a parody to Simon in live-action.

What I Didn’t Like:

Alright so these are really knitpicks but I think they’re worth noting in terms of moving this universe forward.

Scooby Doo is a dog, a talking dog yes but a dog none the less...so why the heck does he talk so much. I mean granted this is a universe with a robotic dog and a biped martial arts vigilante dog...but they never genuinely explain how Scooby can talk and while it’s understandable in the original cartoons as it’s mostly groans and the odd mispronounced word...here he was having monologues...also as a puppy he should have had a puppy voice, just saying.

As mentioned, I never really got into this franchise when I was younger so outside of Scooby and Shaggy I don’t really know these characters...but was Fred always so weirdly obsessed with the Mystery Machine? I get being happy with your vehicle but I thought Fred and Daphne were supposed to be the ship of this property...not Fred and the van.

I really really really really really really really really did not like the cop out ending they had, I didn’t let them get away with it in Stitch Has a Glitch and I am not letting them get away with it here. This big dramatic heartstring pulling thing happens, yet it’s almost immediately rectified with no solid explanation other then “we need to wrap things up”.

So to see one of these properties not authentically translate I thought was annoying, by which I mean Captain Caveman. Looks wise he is on point and I am fully aware that Mel Blanc is not going to rise up from the grave to voice him again, but the very essence of him being a caveman in his speech was not there for me here.

It would have been better if they allowed some time to go past and let the heroes stew in their sorrow before somehow discovering a way to fix things, but no it is literally as soon as the bad thing happens we are supposed to believe this was thought out?

My final thing is this. The Hanna-Barbera properties I grew up with are Scooby-Doo which I liked, Top Cat which I loved, Wacky Races which I loved, The Jetsons which I wasn’t as acquainted with as I would have liked to be, The Flinstones which I loved, Hong Kong Phooey which I liked and Captain Cavemani which I liked.

I’m sure Tracy Morgan is a likeable comedian, but then play on the comedy of the character and have him be like he originally was.

Hanna-Barbera Cinematic Universe:

I would love to see The Flinstones, Top Cat and the other Wacky Racers get this movie treatment. In fact if they market it correctly, Warner Bros. Animation could have a different genre movie for each property, be that comedy for Flinstones, action for Hong Kong Phooey, maybe a heist movie for Top Cat, sci-fi for the Jetsons, the list goes on.

As mentioned before, I do not see that groundwork for a cinematic universe here. Rather than it showing signs of being like the MCU I think it does stick more in-house as the DCEU by simply giving me the want to see other Hanna-Barbera characters inhabit this universe.

Do I feel this is the start of something big? No, do I feel there is potential here absolutely.

Overall I rate the movie a solid 7/10, it’s enjoyable, it’s cute, it’s family-friendly and I believe that’s its USP. It’s not a groundbreaking movie but it does have that cinematic universe potential and, as mentioned, I do look forward to see if more Hanna-Barbera properties get the same treatment.

So that’s my review of Scoob! What did you guys think? Post your comments and check out more Movie Reviews and other posts.

#scoob #scoob!#scooby-doo #scooby doo #warner bros.#hanna-barbera #hong kong phooey #dick dastardly #wacky races #blue falcon #dynomutt #zac efron #jason isaacs #gina rodriguez #amanda seyfried #frank welker #muttley #captain caveman

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Konami’s wheels are turning... slowly

Lot’s of interesting news heading to our heads this Monday from what I heard from Yong Yea’s video about Konami wanting to outsource their IP’s to 3rd parties.

Obviously, Akira Yamaoka has kinda given away a strong hint that he’s working on a project with Bloober which in this case would be the long awaited SH remake or the direction they had with PT before it got cancelled. Akira Yamaoka also decided that (too late) he wanted to amend the article from his interview and release it later down the line. It’s very unusual that these news happen, but we all know Yamaoka is most famous for his music in Silent Hill.

Which brings me to a funny story about my own involvement of a Silent Hill game. I mentioned this on a podcast that I was part of 2 Konami-owned IP’s that went into another direction and killing off their franchises which have been like dead bodies in a morgue for the last 7 years.

I got the request to write industrial-metal music for a Silent Hill (of course at this time I only knew the IP and their most famous version of the game has been Silent Hill 2.) game. First I was of course very excited to be part of the series, but I jumped to early until I found out it was a Pachinko-machine (A japanese style pinball-game mixed with a touch-screen and a one-armed bandit and a slot-machine in one.), and my heart sank a little. I think I produced 4-5 cues for the machine, but I’m glad that nobody will be able to hear my “mediocre” masterpieces because all you would hear are metal-balls falling into a tray. But the thing about this machine, it had taken cut-scenes from Silent Hill 2, upscaled or even re-mastered/remade the graphics which would have looked great if it was its own game. But it was the same thing they’ve done with all their other IPs when those transfer over to this kind of entertainment. All what was left of it, Jim Sterling turned the game into a Meme and all I can hear is the -”HIT THE LEVER!” and the effects overpowering the music behind it. But I’m glad it didn’t go further then that. Technically here, Silent Hill(s) died with the arrival of the pachinko-slot machine and the series have tried to re-establish itself ever since.

Another game I was a part of was a Castlevania (Dracula in Japan) themed Pachinko-slot machine, with the revolutionary phrase “Erotic Violence” in it’s PR material and video-commercial. I mean, they took the music production part of this machine very seriously because I wasn’t aware of the “EV” part. I just thought it would be a machine praising the history of Castlevania. I was assigned to re-write and re-orchestrate a few songs from Neo-classical Metal music into more Progressive Metal style, and I was super-proud of this one because they had the sheet-music already available for me. All I had to do was re-arrange some parts for a string-quartet (1 cello, 2 violins and 1 viola) and I believe it was engineered and recorded by famed engineer Kenji Nakai who was under and working with famed engineer Mr Bruce Swedien (Michael Jackson, Quincy Jones).

From that moment me and Mr. Nakai stroke a friendship because he has a passion for Progressive Metal and he asked me if I could send more songs his way. From this we both have been incredibly busy on both of our ends, but I hope we can be able to work on something in the future. I have a feeling that might be soon.

So a long story short, Konami spent a lot of money for recording, they approved everything and we were done. But when it turned out to be a pachinko-machine and not a world-wide videogame release, I just had to facepalm myself, asking the question why they keep doing so many poor decisions. Why leaving all those fans out in the cold and really start making Castlevania mean something. This void of “lots of fancy things, but no substance” started right here...

Konami are turning their wheels a little bit too late and too slow until now. After they got rid of Hideo Kojima (Who I believe was thinking of the international-market rather than the domestic one), Konami had only one thing on their minds: Making money quick and domestically. No more wasted time on translations, straight for the gambling crowd. No need to write interesting stories. No need to introduce kids to this adult material. They wanted to earn it back as fast as possible. But we all see their decisions put them on the map as a “black-company”, who mistreat their staff, shaming them out in the office for overstaying their lunch-breaks. Moving staff from one business to another, from a programmer to a Konami-fitness Center-staff, or as a toilet-cleaner at a Konami-owned pachinko-slot gambling hall. The management of the company has been horrendous for the full-time employee. I’m glad I was not part of these later projects and only wrote stuff for them for Pro Evolution Soccer series from 2009-2012. (My work on 2010-2012 was unfortunately un-credited work. :(

Metal Gear Solid V - The Phantom Pain In My Ass

When the playable teaser called Metal Gear Solid - Ground Zeroes, came out on the PS3 and later on the PS4, it was an introduction for the new graphics engine designed by Hideo Kojima’s team, simply called The FOX-Engine. Basically this “game” was more of a demo rather than a full-product. But it looked great and with a fantastic score by Akihiro Honda, Ludvig Forssell and Harry Gregson-Williams, it had everything going for it to become something really awesome. It became a standard approach from Hideo Kojima now to produce “Playable Teasers” to show a great concept while offering a 3-4 hour short campaign, showing off the engine’s graphical capabilities.

Still, the story was under progress and I knew early on that Hideo Kojima really didn’t want to do it after he always felt that Metal Gear Solid 4 was final. But here is the curse of the die-hard fans, and I’m sorry to say it. No matter how many Iron Man movies Marvel crams out, at the 3rd movie, I started to feel “This does not feel like Iron Man anymore”. But that’s what the fans wanted and is a standard in the movie industry. Always produce a trilogy. Indiana Jones has always been the 3 movies from 1981-1989. The 4th one doesn’t really need to be called Indiana Jones at all. It was there I felt, just like with Metal Gear Solid V, they were beating a DEAD RACE HORSE.

I can’t deny the talents on display for Metal Gear Solid - Ground Zeroes. It laid down some really cool foundations for the gameplay, but I still believe the better game-series for stealth was beaten by the likes of Splinter Cell and most recently Thief. Stealth in MGS has always felt a little bit childish and I only really enjoyed MGS 1, MGS 2, tried to play MGS 3 (still have it one my Vita!) and will try to finish it. MGS 3 has felt like the TRUE Zeroes experience, with the inception of the story and lore behind the cloning of Big Boss. MGS 4 finally brought it all to a great finale and I felt, there is NOTHING more to tell. MGS 1, 2 and 4 is the Trilogy, MGS 3 serves as the Prequel and I see nothing wrong with that.

Mission - Erase Kojima’s Legacy

The making of MGS V - The Phantom Pain is kinda true to it’s title. Can you feel the nostalgia? Or are we just imagining the sensation of a Metal Gear Solid game past it’s prime? The missing link? The missing limb? And with the worlds biggest cop-out of everything that had to do with story was completely missing.

Each mission is playing out every time the same, with an intro to a TV-show, giving away massive spoilers to who would appear in the mission, you do your thing (not so much of story, just a “go-here, do that approach, sneak back out, head to pick-up) rinse and repeat. I wonder how much of this was Kojima’s fault? I don’t think he was up to it. I’m sure he fought for more story but the big heads didn’t want to listen to what makes a MGS game a MGS game. The new management had now already played the hand to disown the man who put Konami on the map for games since the mid 80s.

The game is no longer marketed like before. The tagline “A Hideo Kojima Game” no longer exists and will never be part of Konami’s mission of erasing the person who gave them their fame and the recognition that a game carrying the name Konami was a brand of quality for any gamer out there. Me myself, personally only played PES because of the stellar animations, but its recently since 2012, I stopped playing the series. FIFA had already cheapened itself, PES likewise. Updating the graphics, but the same old animations have been recycled back to the PES3 days. Maybe there’s been an update in the collision engine, but otherwise everything stayed the same, with the huge amount of data collected from previous years of motion-capture, why do it all over when its all about the brand recognition? Saving money on processes wherever possible. Simple Math. And here it is. MGS V is not a MGS game.

We already knew it was going to be a massive budget behind the game of MGS V. But what can Konami do to save money on MGS V? They already have the Fox Engine running from Ground Zeroes. The assets for “Snake” (I’ll let you know why I put quotation-marks around it) and standard models will extend somewhat. Oh, yes, let’s save money on a character that doesn’t speak (Quiet), over-sexualize the character to start a fan-base of people who just dig character design, animated a sexy “shower” routine for the character for boys to go nuts over. What about voice? Let’s not really try to sync the voices to the mouths. Let’s have the guy from “24″ record his performances onto tape-logs. Kiefer Sutherland would have been a good “Snake”, but I understand now that you are not “SNAKE”. The game explains pretty soon at the end that you are just a Medic and all the tapes you’ve been listening to is the original Big Boss. You never where the character of Snake. Even though this all could have been handled better, Konami wanted to save money wherever possible. We also knew David Hayter was not asked or put forward to return as “The Voice of Snake”. But in this case I start to wonder myself, David Hayter might have dodged the biggest bullet in the most expensive, commercial and very controversial game of all time once Konami decided to kill everything that built up their reputation.

Even during production Kojima managed to start working on PT. The game Konami “silenced” after it was released on the PS-store. Guillermo Del Toro and his friendship with Hideo Kojima’s dream-game was put on ice. All because Kojima was about to get frozen out of the company that was according to Konami “Wasting too much bloody money”. I might get blacklisted for saying this, but once the new management started to mess with the other IPs for just domestic/gambling market, that’s where everything went sideways. Konami wasn’t treating their heritage with respect.

It took them 7 years to realize their mistake! And now, for those who wants to be part of 3rd party developers who would get a crack at a new Castlevania, a new Metal Gear Solid (remake I hope), Konami has realized that the only way they will survive (Yeah, Metal Gear Solid Survive killed them HARD) is to let other’s take over. Maybe my dream of scoring a Metal Gear Solid game would be somewhat more possible now rather than working in the confined space of limitations posed by the higher ups at Konami. Let 3rd party developers breathe life into the IPs because I know there are smarter ways to tell a story and I would gladly like to see the return of David Hayter in the seat, without having to deal with the blank-face approach that he was faced with every time he had to audition for Snake in MGS 2, 3 and 4! David Hayter is a fantastic writer, actor and voice-actor. He has the chops and I think we are all ready for either a re-make or a better follow up to MGS 2 and the time between that one and MGS 4.

#Metal Gear Solid V #the phantom pain #Konami #Hideo Kojima #Akira Yamaoka #Yong Yea #Castlevania #Pachinko #Silent Hill #PT #Ground Zeroes #harry gregson williams #ludvig forssell #3rd Party #Bloober team #remake #Metal Gear Solid Remake

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